Trivial.

I had some trivial post to send your way last week. But then I couldn't get my trivial pictures to post like I wanted them to.
It was a witty blog, with me having realizations that I somehow am not what I thought I was. And maybe someday I will post it.
Because I write about trivial things sometimes.

But then the unthinkable happened.
And looking back I am so glad I had not posted that blog.
It would have been, really, so-----trivial.
Worthless.

It wouldn't have helped anyone's soul at that point.

See, we lost one of our dear ones. One of my very best friends had to say goodbye to a sister. Nobody saw it coming.
It stopped me in my tracks.
Made everything else, (blog posts especially)-----all very trivial.

I left immediately when I got the news. Immediately after I could see through swollen, bleary, teary eyes, that is.
It was a sorrow like I have never seen or felt before. One that comes from depths you didn't even know you had.
But it was a sorrow for us. The ones who are still here. The ones who still have what we call "today."
Our dear one is with Jesus now; so we do not sorrow for her. We sorrow for us. Which is both a pain and a glory. For "we do not grieve like the world grieves" (I Thess. 4:13), which is our sure and abiding hope, a true and present glory, all the while living in the land of grief's shadow (Psalm 23) and having to deal with the consequences of Adam's sin (Romans 5:12) in all it's indelible sorrow.
Our pain and our hope, it seems, are cut out of the same cloth.
Never so more clearly seen than in situations like this.

And, it's the kind of situation where you want to go and be eloquent. You want to speak words that are a balm, like oil on a wound. You want to offer something that heals, something that comforts. To know what Jesus would say in a time like this. Speak some kind of hope into the situation.
But instead you go and all that stumbles out is, "I don't know what to say......."

And it's the kind of situation where you want to go and be strong for them, so they know they don't have to be. You want to be a fortress for them for a while.
But then you get there and you don't feel strong at all and all you can do is climb onto the bed and weep right along with them. And you feel like the tables turned, and they are comforting you more than you are comforting them.


Grief.
Stricken.

And all your desires to go and somehow make it a little more bearable seem a little more trivial.
 


So, because while I am on this earth I am still very much "me,"  in a very "me" way I asked what I can do. Is there anything tangible I can do to help.....something.

"Yeah, you could make me a counter top for our kitchen island."

Even for this project girl that I am that was not what I was expecting.

But yes, yes you dear sweet mother. I would do anything for you. And I will most definitely build you a counter top.

I love this Sweet Mother. I always have. I have known her basically my whole life. She is one of those women who is GENTLE. I remember when I was a kid, when some of her young children were getting out of hand she would never yell. She would never fly off the handle. She would get down on her knees, down to their level, and she would whisper. In the midst of their tantrums or misbehavings or what-have-yous, she would whisper. And it was a miracle: They would always quiet down.
Gentleness.

So yes, Sweet Mother, anything at all you want.

And so we did. Hubbs and I and some of my best friends. We set to work immediately. Working as if we had been given an order by the king.

Sweet mother wanted it, and we would have done anything to give it to her.


In the midst of our measurements and power tools, every once in a while one of us would just break down. And they would stop the sanding. Stop the staining.
And we would pray. And we would cry. And we would pray for them.

Pray because, all of the sudden, what a week before had maybe been viewed by them as a trivial chore (building an island) was now, to us, not trivial in the least.

See, Wolfies, it's not the WHAT you are doing, but it's the WHO are you doing it for that brings purpose or meaning or urgency to something.

I think in life so often we want to do the big things. We want to fly in and save the day. Be that strong person, or that eloquent person. And maybe the Lord has granted that to some of you, to be those things.
But maybe some of you are like me.
Your words stumble out, and you wish you could heal but all that comes, you feel, are your shortcomings. You are so aware that only Jesus can heal and if there ever was a cracked vessel, it was you.
You see yourself and your efforts to save the world and be good and save yourself and help others and you see really how it's all so inadequate.
You are now so aware that you don't have power in you to do that.

Which is probably exactly where we all need to be.

I realized in the midst of all this that maybe I see all my shortcomings because I am looking to me. 
I see all that cracks because my eyes are on the vessel.

I know what I want to do in that situation---be the eloquent and strong one---but maybe that's not what HE wants me to do.

Maybe it's important for someone to go and say what I said: "I don't know what to say."
And maybe it's good for someone just to crawl into bed and cry right along with them.
Even if it all feels so much more trivial than you wanted it to.

Because maybe all our things that we do FOR the Lord and FOR the people he has put in our paths aren't so trivial after all. Be them as in-eloquent and un-strong as they were.
Maybe Sweetest Mother needed a project done more than she needed my words.
Maybe the Lord needed me to build something so both of us would find healing around it, both in the building and receiving processes.

If there is anything I know, I know this: The Lord's plans are not ours, and his ways are not our ways.

As humans we want to take eloquent roads, the strong roads.

But he took the humble road. The silent road before accusations. The road that was broken for us, so that we, we cracked vessels would some day be made whole again. He took the road that wept with his mourning friends, and the road that has taken him to build and prepare places in Heaven for those of us whom he has called unto his name.

His ways are not our ways. But his ways are higher, because they are taking us along the same road he walked.
And nothing about that is trivial.

Common Grace.

Up until that point I had never understood what everyone was talking about when they said, “Yeah, I was there at such and such a place and blah blah blah happened and I just FELT VERY SMALL.”

Never.

Never in my life have I ever felt like that.

From those same blah blah blah situations they would talk about I would usually come away feeling like I was on top of the world. Or very important to God. Or like I was making a difference.

And I suppose all of that was true then. Maybe I was in a really good spot in life.

I AM very important to God (you all are).

Maybe I was making a difference (Oh, Lord, I pray so).

But I have never felt small.

I have walked the streets of almost every major European city and felt like all eyes were on me. 

Not small.

I have stood beside oceans and seas, both calm and tumultuous, and heard God whisper in that obvious expanse. God, who created that, was talking to me. So, I didn’t feel very small.

I have been on stages of all sizes, but never felt small.

I have made sales that were thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars. No small potatoes.

But then one night when I was least expecting it….driving through the middle of nowhere, watching a sunset like most sunsets in this lovely State, seeing the fields and forests laid out before me, all amber colored in the long shadows, I felt very small.

It had been a tumultuous couple of weeks, making me wonder a million times what the world was possibly coming to and where in the world all of it was going to lead, and as I sat there in the moving car, watching creation in all of its resplendent glory arrayed before me, I was overwhelmed by the goodness of God.

Such grace. Fields and fields of corn and wheat just doing their thing. Unaffected by politics, no care and concern for the thoughts of the masses. They just grow.

A farmer puts a seed in the ground, and God makes it grow. 

Grace.

Or think about that sunset. Just shimmering away for me to awe at.

Grace.

Or so much bounty in my refrigerator.

Grace.

And the more I thought about how the world is going mad and God is still so good; so good to continue to send rain to grow the plants, so good to continue to produce incredible sunsets, so good to make the air smell all wonderful and summery, so good for Him to still be so big and so in charge. Big enough to handle everything. Big enough to see the world’s condition and deal with it.

Without forgetting to make one single sunset.

He is so big.

And I am so small.

And that night I knew it.

He is not affected by our comings and goings. We do not change his character and his statutes. 

He is eternal. We are temporal. He causes the plants to grow. We do not. Matthew 5:45 says, “He causes the sun to rise on the wicked and the good, and make the rain fall on the upright and the wrongdoers alike.”

Wherever you stand on this line of wicked or good, upright or a wrongdoer, he still extends to you so much common grace. Not because of anything you have done or will ever do. But just because HE IS GRACIOUS.

Because He still causes all of our plants to grow. No matter what shape the world is in right now.

I mean, for example.

When I was in 5 Month City I took some seeds and some dirt and some egg cartons.

 And I put the seeds in the dirt in the egg cartons. One week later, I had little plants.

Then we moved to the Homeland and I put my even bigger little plants in buckets.

And now I have big plants.

That give me yellow beans.

And will soon produce tomatoes.

Why? Because God is still so very good and so very gracious, even though I am still so very small.

See, in the Christian world, everything is different. Being small doesn’t mean insignificant, unimportant, or with no influencing power. Being small is a relative term; the Lord is simply so big. We have no other option but to be small.

And that’s good news. Because it doesn’t change who you are, and it doesn’t change who he is, it just gives you proper perspective.

So think on his bigness and his common grace to us all this morning. And bless the name of the Lord for being still so good to you.

Even though we are all still so very small.

Muted.

Hi Wolfies!!! I almost bought an excellent fur blanket yesterday, like the one in this picture, but refrained. Needless to say though it made me think of you, as I do often.

The original Wolf Queen picture.

So Hubbs and I are getting all settled in. Sure, I still need an area rug for over there, and a floor lamp for over here, but all things considered we are feeling pretty much at home.
That does not mean, of course, that I am not still going to the wrong drawer to look for a chopping knife (I am going where the chopping knives were in our last kitchen), or to the wrong closet to look for a towel ( I am going where the towels were in our last hallway), or the wrong side of the bed at night (not really); slowly but surely though, I am finding my way through my new dwelling.
We are attempting to adjust to the new schedule of him going to work all day and not spending it with me (not fun), I am trying to find a routine in a schedule that isn't routine (hopefully it gets better), and I have about eight big projects I want to tackle and time only for maybe one. Or half of one. Blah.

But it will come.
And despite all the typical challenges that come with moving to a new city (finding the right stores, the right roads, the right knife drawer, etc) we really are so glad to be "home" and closer to all we know so well.
There have also been a couple really great little moments that stuck to my little soul lately.

Like a little Sunday afternoon tea and coffee service we had.

This little guy never ceases to thrill me.

The glory of summertime fruits.

Living rooms starting to look like home.

Feeling all Ina-Garten-ish and making her Roast Chicken.

No caption really needed for this one.

Hubbs and I went to Chicago this last weekend for a number of things, one of them being to see the excellent Chris Botti in concert. He is one of the world's best living trumpet players right now and since Hubbs is a trumpet player and I love all things jazz, it made perfect sense since we were in the city anyway.

I dislike cities, have I told you this? They make me feel claustrophobic, like I need to wash my hands, and very much like an imposter.
But Jesus is helping me with the last one.

Anywho, we were there and are so very glad we went as both of us agreed it was one of the best concerts we have ever been to. Which is saying something. We have been to a lot of concerts.

At one point he had this insanely good violinist join him and they played this song called Emmanuel.
A really moving tune, I leaned over to Hubbs half way through and said to him "Kind of interesting this song is called Emmanuel, isn't it?" (Watch it here--and I apologize for any nasty ad beforehand. They can be unacceptable.)
I don't believe Chris Botti is a Believer. He makes no mention of it, so I can assume. And I don't know if he wrote this song or not, I would assume not, but I still found it curious that, right there, in the middle of this grand musical display is a word that means "God with us." I think I wrote something entitled this at Christmas once and it is such a good thought. Wherever you are, in whatever circumstance you find yourself in, God is with you. "He is at your right hand" the Bible says (I wrote something about that, too. No surprise.).  Sitting right there, he was there, too. God with me. At my right hand. Listening to Chris Botti wail out "Emmanuel."

A neat reminder.

So trumpets have these things called Mutes, I guess (Hubbs told me). My favorite trumpet sound is when the bell has in it what is called a Harmon Mute. It's the classic jazz sound.
Listen to it here when he plays "Hallelujah."
And while I think it sounds so neat and chill and.......sultry, if I do say so myself, it absolutely IS muted. It doesn't have that glorious "brilliance" or "shine" as a trumpet can. It's not crisp, clear. It's blurry.
It's muted. So appropriately named.

And it made me think.

Romans 8 says that "All creation groans" because it was "subjected to frustration" at the Fall (verses 22 and 20), which would go to mean that THIS TRUMPET is just groaning. Not singing. Not jubilating. Not praising.
For as excellent as it sounds, and great at Chris Botti is, it is not what it could be. Isn't that mind blowing?

To make a connection.............it's muted.

It's a blurry picture.
There is something lost, something lacking.
All of it has been subjected to frustration.

Doesn't that make you homesick for what a SINGING trumpet will sound like? For how well a non-groaning instrument will sound?

And then it occurred to me. When Jesus comes back, he is coming with trumpets (I Thessalonians 4:16 and others)!! Not blurred trumpets, no way. Not groaning trumpets, not frustrated trumpets. But loud, brilliant, clear, tolling trumpets.
And what a jubilation that will be. Our ears will hear for the first time a sound that is not muted. The scales will have fallen.

But then it also occurred to me.

Our song will be the same as it was the other night. As it should be every day.

Just like how here on this earth "we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we will see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known" (I Corinthians 13:12), we sing our songs to the Lord in part. We only know the half of it.
Here I sing and I write about Hallelujah.
I sing and I talk about God Being With Us.

But I sing and I talk and I write and I know all muted. In part. Those things are entities that, I pray, glorifies God to the best of it's ability, but it is not brilliant yet. It does not shine as it will, it is not yet fully glorified as it will be.

But my song will be the same.
I will sing with no muting doubts. No fears that blur. No distortions that cast a shadow.

And then I will know it's truth in full.
I will see clearly it's Emmanuel.
I will sing unmuted it's Hallelujah.

I won't see them again.

So, I have been busy.

This whole gang came.

A designer in 5 Month City contacted me and wanted me to know if I could fill in while she was on maternity leave. And she makes stuff like this:

So yes. Yes I could fill in for her. Obviously. Look at those sweet poof things.

I have had a number of calls about weddings this. So collections like this have been taking place more and more frequently:

The zoo also had a baby:

You know that line from Dispicable Me when the little girls wins that stuffed animal at the carnival and says "It's so fluffy I could die!!!!"

Well that was me.

Except it was a baby elephant.

And in stead of saying "fluffy" I inserted "already wrinkly."

But the excitement was the same.

Seriously, it was the cutest baby I have ever seen and I pretty much lost my mind.

He even was taking his little trunk, filling it up with water, and spraying himself.

Slay me.

And then two days later, this happened:

Hubbs and I loaded almost all of our earthly possessions into a UHaul and left 5 Month City.

What a strange feeling it is to put your stuff in a box. It makes me wonder what really life is made up of.

Despite the fact that 5 Month City was not very nice to us, and it was not a place we felt particularly drawn to, as we were going through the packing process we both had our moments of sadness.

This was our first house together. This was our first city we lived in together. This was a place where we were together literally 24/7 and didn't get sick of each other. Be what the city itself may, we had created some semblance of a life there.

Yes, we wanted to leave, yes we are so happy to be back, yes the grocery stores here are nothing short of miraculous and I ordered meat at the butcher yesterday for probably twenty minutes, we still had to do our share of saying goodbye to 5 Month City. We even both might have had a few melancholy moments.

Leaving some place makes you take stock and sum up all the experiences you now call yours.

And I couldn't stop thinking about this one experience specifically.

It was a typical Monday. I had gone grocery shopping, I had gone to WalMart, I had had numerous typical unnerving experiences at both places.

Much like Jo in Little Women when she is asked to go visit friends with her sister, ("Come, Jo, it's time."

"For what?"

"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me today?"

"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week.")

I feel that way about shopping. Especially in 5 Month City. I had already gone to TWO stores, not one, (and a single store upsets me all week), and was "ready to get home" as one might casually say.

Zipping down The Pothole Road, I really was almost to my road, when out of the corner of my eye I see two women at a bus-stop, one of them flat on her back and the other standing over her.

And it wasn't like she was taking a nap. That was obvious.

Feeling certain they were in trouble I whipped my car around, delaying my longed-for return home.

"Are you alright?!?!" I said immediately as I pulled up.

"I don't know! I think she is having a panic attack!"

There she lay on the ground, almost convulsing, uncontrollably sobbing, hyperventilating, and overall out of it.

What is a girl to do?! I called someone I know who has dealt with this issue in the past and she walked me through how I could help.

Breathing exercising, supporting their weight, reassuring them, telling them it's ok to feel how they are feeling, etc.

I sat there with them for about twenty minutes and we got the woman calmed down enough to sit up and be able to tell us how she was feeling.

They told me that they were a "couple" and their names were Beth and Madalyn, and we made small talk and self-help talk as best we could in a situation like this.

Seeing as they were at a bus stop they didn't have a car, so when Madalyn mentioned she wanted to go to the hospital, I knew I was the one to do it.

I called Hubbs and had his come down, pick us up, and take us.

They were so thankful, we told them about ourselves, what we were doing in 5 Month City, what we had done the day before for Easter.

They were not religious, so they had gone to one of those all you can eat Buffet places.

We helped her into a wheelchair at the ER and sent them in.

And then we drove home.

From that point on every time I drove by that bus stop I looked to see if they were there.

They weren't.

For weeks after I couldn't stop thinking about them. How different their lives were from mine. What their stories might be that had led them to that lifestyle. What background things brought on the attack. Why did no one else stop. Thanking the Lord that I listened to him and went back.

And then we started packing up our houses. And it really hit me: I will never see them again.

God placed me there for that time, to come into their life during that need.

To be a breathing coach.

To let them know they weren't alone.

To give them a ride to the hospital.

To tell them we were praying for them. And we are.

We left 5 Month City early in the morning and as I drove past I looked at that empty bus stop. Remembering the day I wanted to get home and God wanted me to stay. To be a tangible force in their life for good.

I won't ever see them again. I won't ever know how their story ends. I won't ever know how their story started.

But God does.

Jesus saw them born. He will see them die. He saw them in their panic and sent me.

He knows. He loves. He cares. For two women so far away from him. For two women with deep seeded need and pain.

And so I trust. I trust that he has seen them their whole life. And he will continue to. Whether I continue to drive by that bus stop in 5 Month City anymore or not.

Because I am not.

Idle

I made a kimono this week.
A sweet and stylish Jesus-loving friend of mine who has got the cutest little babes in the world posted a picture of herself and some gal pals while wearing this sensational little floral jacket number. In simply having to ask her where she procured it she told me it was indeed a "kimono" not a jacket and went on to mention the store.
Not one much for shopping, I thought "I bet there is a sewing blog that can tell me how to make it" and sure enough, Pinterest led me to the great treasure trove as it has a tendency of doing.
Immediately upon finding the pattern, and I mean immediately, I left the house and zipped off to the closest fabric store. To my elation, I walked in to find sale tables brimming with the kind of fabric I needed! Hurray and Huzzah and Hallelujah! Now to pick which pattern and color! Typically one given to patterns like...black, and colors like....black, I did away with "typical" and decided that I really do probably need more color in my life and settled upon something paisley, 70's-ish, and done up in red tones. I am also not typically one much for red in my clothes either, but I really liked the muted backside of the fabric and decided I would make the thing wrong-side-out. Because I do things like that: make things backwards.

Delightful. $6 worth of soon-to-be-kimono-fabric and utterly delightful.

Zipping back home then I immediately set to work. And I mean immediately.

I love projects. Have I told you that? ;)

Hubbs keeps remarking how I really wasn't lying the whole time we dated when I said "I love projects," and is now always saying to me, "I think it's so neat how you always have a project going..."

Isn't he just the best?! (yes.)

And here is said 70's-ish kimono:

I was talking to another very dear friend the other day, who also has the cutest little babes in the world, and she was asking what I had been up to lately.
"Oh...just the usual, I suppose. Reupholstering chairs; I refinished a couple tables over the last few weeks. I just read this nuts-o book about climbing K2 so now Hubbs and I can't stop watching YouTube documentaries on mountaineering. Let's see, what else....well, I really am getting into this whole bread making thing....um....AND MY PLANTS!! I have started all these seeds so I am tending to them and it's a great joy! Oh, I decided to take some classes, too, and I am working on a couple headpieces and am really enjoying making Asian food lately. And then I just started Teddy Roosevelt's autobiography and this whole book on the brief republic that pirates had in their hey-day......blah blah blah...." I kept rattling.

"Wow, B. That's a lot you have going on," she said.

Well. I suppose.

I was thinking more about what she said a couple days later, about how I have a lot going on, and I thought to myself, "Well, what else would I be doing?! I can't be on Pinterest collecting ideas ALL DAY...."
And then I pondered some more. Much like Winnie the Pooh would ponder....

Why is it that I have so much going on?!

I guess it's because I figure that right now I don't work outside the home. Right now I don't have children. Right now, in 5 Month City, I don't know anyone. Right now there are projects to be had.
And right now this time is fleeting.

I told my friend after she commented on my busyness, "Well, I look at my life with all this open time, and if two years from now I look back and have nothing to show for all this free time, then I pretty much fail at life and being responsible. I mean, I won't ever get this time back. So I better have a whole trove of things to show for it."

And I believe it. Probably never again will I have time like this on my hands with no demands made upon except things like Hubbs and I should probably eat today so I will have to cook at some point.

This all had strolled back and forth through my brain over the course of the last few weeks and then it flared up again when I was immediately making my kimono.

At the juncture of all of these thoughts and things I was in my devotions in I Thessalonians and I came to the verse in chapter 4 that reads: "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands just as we told you." (verse 11)

I have had a box drawn around this verse since I was probably 14 years old. Most likely due to my growing up with the Amish (which you now know about) and my burning love of pioneers and all things Laura Ingalls Wilder, I have always thought that quiet lives are better than loud ones. The loud ones pass away, and pass away quickly at that, but things with less pomp and circumstance are better. As Doug Wilson would say about modern trends and policies that have no Biblical glory in themselves, "they are lame, they need everyone to applaud enthusiastically. This is the only way to compensate for being so lame."
My thoughts exactly.
Trendy is lame. And a quiet life that honors the Lord is not trendy.
So the box around this verse remains.

I was thinking about this and thought I should look up the words in the Greek. Because I am a wannabe aspiring philologist like that.

In my study I came across that those people in Thessaloniki were given to idleness because they thought that Jesus was going to come back at the end of the week and they didn't have time to spend on daily life. Basically. So Paul needed to set them aright.

In Greek, then, the definition for this "quiet life" says, "To be still. At rest, not running hither and thither. The manifestation of a quiet, in awe spirit and mind."

WOW!! Isn't that so neat?! So it's not just "not flashy," there is something more to it. It's a life of deep and profound peace. A life that has been quieted by the grace and sovereignty of God, for what else has the power to still?

And then for kicks and giggles I thought, "I wonder what the definition for 'hands' is?"
:)

It reads: "The instrument one uses to accomplish his purposes."



Whoa.

Babies.

This verse says a lot.



While I would like to think that I have always had a good handle on not letting myself be idle with my time (hence my cache of projects to show), this verse begs a couple further questions: Is my life a manifestation of a quiet, in awe spirit and mind?
But, and maybe more telling, does my time have PURPOSE that I am intentionally fulfilling with the work that goes through my hands?

Look at that definition of hands once again:
"The instrument one uses to accomplish his purposes."

Everyone has a purpose for what they do, of this I am convinced.

But do you KNOW yours?

Are you spending your time on purpose? Like, is there a goal you are trekking towards that is determining whether you do one thing with your time or don't do it?
In all your coming and going---or all of your NOT coming and going (if your life is quiet)--- does what you're doing have a meaning? Or is it just lame, too? With no glory, as Wilson would ask (things that do not carry a God-given glory are lame in his thinking.... for if it does not glorify, then what can it be doing?)

When was the last time you took a really good stock of your life? Looked at all your activities and asked "But WHY am I doing this?! WHY am I putting my family through this? WHY are we getting in the car AGAIN???" Is it accomplishing what I want to be accomplished?

Sometimes I go through the day almost mindlessly, I am shamed to admit. I get up, make breakfast, we drink our tea and coffee, I do my quiet time, and then I fill in the space with the current projects before I start into dinner prep.
But do I KNOW WHY I am making that cup of tea? Why I am prepping that dinner? Is there any reason behind it, or do I just do it? Because I think it's what you need to do?

How about you?
Are you running here and there because you think it's what the world wants from you?
Because you are afraid of what the alternative is?

Like silence.

And quiet.

And not being busy.

And having a second to breathe and thank the Lord.

And having a better, and I will go so far as to add, a counter-cultural, reason to make dinner than well-we-have-to-eat-today-sometime. But rather an "I am making dinner to be a good steward of what God has given us and to provide for my family the tangible reminder that Jesus provides for us by giving us this bounty we eat every day." Or "Because some of the greatest human connection happens around a dinner table, with people sharing a common meal....which is sharing a common grace, which is blessing the name of the Lord."

And having a better reason to go to work (because we do all our work as unto the Lord).

And having a better reason to talk to your neighbor (because we believe that we have never met a mere mortal).

And having a better reason to stay home (because the people who live inside your house are your closest "neighbors" you have been commanded to love well).

Are we afraid of all of these things? Thinking maybe we might receive the scorn of a world who does not understand a stilled and quieted heart and life.


I saw this on Pinterest a while back and was struck.

Isn't this so revealing?
Because it's absolutely the truth.


It's a thought, Wolfies.
What are we using our time for?
And what are the purposes we are accomplishing with our hands?

Love you. Happy Sunday.

Amish don't apologize {Part III}

Every year in the Fall I always get a hankering to read an Amish novel series, typically the ones by Beverly Lewis, but that's neither here nor there. It makes me feel all warm and toasty and homey, much like a really great thick sweater does.
Why I have been thinking Amish things (albeit not reading Amish novels) this spring then is beyond me, since it is so out of seasonal character.
Maybe it's because 5 Month City is so far away from the little Amish hamlet I grew up in. Maybe it's because I am getting cynical about the world and want to hide. Or maybe it's because I think they are on to something. Not everything, mind you, but something.
Now, one thing that has to be said is that Amish are not necessarily Christians. Sure, the Bible would be their holy book if asked, but they have a tendency to be governed by things other than the Holy Spirit and the Word of God (money, traditions, peer pressure, respect of elders, and the like). It's true, my family has known some Amish that are sincere Believers, but for the majority---at least from what we know based on all of our interactions and conversations with them---this, sadly, is not the case.
Jonas and his family, for instance, wonderful salt-of-the-earth people, but not Believers.
That being said, I still think they are on to something.
Or maybe the more accurate thing to say would be, I think they are a good visual aid for something.

The other week I was reading my devotions in Hebrews and came across a familiar passage with a now-new thought for me. Hubbs and I have recently been commenting about how our lifestyle is seemingly becoming more and more counter-cultural. We don't mind this at all, as neither of us care much about the opinion of others if we feel like we are walking in the ways of the Lord, but have just been aptly observing and surmising from interactions we have had with folks lately. Ergo, when I came to this Hebrews passage I felt it was all too apropos.

"And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth." (Hebrews 11:13b)

Think about that. That can be a tough admission. It, by nature, makes you admit you are at odds with the world; in a separate camp from those who gladly make their home here. From the "natives."

I don't know if you have spent any time outside of the country (or even in different regions in this country), but there are some places in particular that when you are there it is obvious to everyone involved that someone in the group is a foreigner.....and it's not them. To use the cliche, you stick out like a sore thumb. You feel like you are an intruder, and they all know it to be the case.

I think that's what this verse is getting at. When you admit you are a stranger and, as some translations say "foreigner," it is an immediate claim that you do not do things the way those surrounding you do. You are, with no other options available to you, different. Weird. Strange.

So basically like the Amish. They are strange according to worldly standards.

However. And this is where the difference, unfortunately, comes in.
Amish don't mind. American Christians seem to mind.

Have you noticed it? More and more I see how we don't look any different from the world. We don't act differently, we don't speak differently, we don't entertain ourselves differently, we don't think about time and talents and money and possessions and jobs differently. By all observable standards WE ARE THE SAME.

But what about this big call on my life to be "In the world, but not of it"? I asked myself that morning as I was sipping my decaf and wondering what the sum of my life is. How can I be in this world--- BUT NOT OF IT? How can I stop from looking the same as those who do not claim to know Christ personally?

So basically how can I be more Amish? Without of course being Amish?

The issue comes, though, in that Amish are not in the world hardly at all. And primarily due to their choosing, although it can't go without being said that the world (or at least the town where I am from) doesn't really want them there either. It's like the Amish make them uncomfortable.
But imagine if you can what it would be like if the Amish DID try to be a part of the world. If they remained exactly as they were, strange, foreign, and with a completely different worldview, but tried to live in the world up to the extent that their way of life let them. Just mingling with the natives, yet being nothing like the natives.

It begs the question. Would the natives accept them? Would they let them continue to be as they are while still doing business and rubbing shoulders ?

In all honesty, that does not seem likely. Being different is not a highly accepted form of existence.
And this I think is where the rub comes in. Christians, by Biblical definition, ARE different. We are called to different lifestyles-- ones of holiness and purity, we are called to different attitudes-- ones of joy and thankfulness and hope, we are called to view earthly treasures and possessions differently--with contentment and generosity. I could go on and on. In view of the Word of God, there is not much we are to do that looks like how the world does the same thing.
But the world does not accept us to let us be like that. They are fine with us in the world, so long as we are of it. They are fine that we are with them, so long as we conform to the patterns they have set forth. They don't mind us, so long as we stop being so strange. So foreign. So very different.

Which is no problem of theirs.
I have no interest in changing the world's thoughts about me. My interest is in changing their thoughts about Jesus and his Word.
My real concern then can only be with the family of God.

We have been called by a saving grace and to a very different lifestyle. Something that should look almost "Amish" according to the worlds standards it is so strange.
And so we get our lives on track with the Lord, head on out into the world so we can be in it while trying not to be of it, but then at the first sight of the world going "We don't like how you do things differently than us," rather than us responding with "That's ok, I don't need your approval to be a Christian" (Galatians 1:10) we start saying "Oh my! You don't like how we do things?!?! Oh! Ok! Which conviction and command by God upon my life would you like me to change to make you feel more comfortable??!?!!!" and therefore conform to "the pattern of this world."

Listen, I am not by any means saying that we should throw all niceties to the wind. Even though I say I love a good conflict, I really would rather not have one. And I firmly believe in what Hebrews says just one chapter later: "Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy." The trouble is, I believe in both of those commands. The peace and the holiness. And whichever way you slice it, an unholy world does not like holiness-seeking people.
 I also confirm what Romans 12 says when it admonishes "If it is possible, as far as it is up to you, live at peace with everyone." This denotes the great chasm, though: Sometimes, it is just not up to us. No matter how much effort we exert they do not want our peace if it involves us not changing our positions and world views. As I Peter 4:4 says, "They think it strange that you do not plunge with them into the same flood of dissipation, and they heap abuse on you."
The darkness hates the light. It cannot comprehend it (John 1:5). It could not thousands of years ago, it still cannot today.

And this is what I love about the Amish. They are so strange. Really, truly, unlike anything else in this country, this society.
Yet---and this is the visual aid----, strange as they absolutely are, they never apologize. Amish don't ever try to change how they live because of what WE, the "Englishers," think about them. You could tell Jonas and his family that you don't like how they live. That how they view the world and what they believe offends you. And you know what? They wouldn't care. And they most certainly would not apologize to you. After all, why would they? They never agreed to meet your standards, so they will not make amends when they miss your mark.

Wolfies , we are called to be respecters of persons, for all "persons"  are made in the image of the God we say 'Yes' to.  We are called, as far as it is up to us, to live at peace, but we are called, above all else, to be holy. Set apart. Sanctified. A people reserved for God. In this world, but so very not of it. Strange. Foreign.
And, even when abused for the sake of Christ and his gospel,  unapologetic. It would be one thing if we were Amish and our rules and codes of conduct were man-made , but ours are not. We are not the King, just the King's messengers. May we never apologize for the claims and call of Christ upon our lives.