Advent

They wait for Him in the leper colonies. Waiting for Him to touch their snowy white skin and make it whole again. They have been outcasts for so long, knowing only the word “Unclean!” to describe them. With healing, they can be loved again. Oh to be loved.

They wait for Him as AID’s takes away the life of their youth. They ask Him for a mom and dad, just to be a part of a family before death carries them into the unknown… Just like it’s already carried away their mother’s and father’s. Their cries fill the small, overcrowded rooms of the orphanages. Slowly they see their playmates, their siblings, those well, taken first. No one is coming for them. They beg Him to let them be included. Oh for a family.

They wait for Him in prison cells across the world. Memories overcome their weary minds as they fight to cling to truth. The scars covering their backs will never heal here on earth. They will never forget the moment they were ripped away from the churches they had vowed to give their very lives for. They will never forget seeing the tears on their babies faces when the soldiers came. They ask Him for release. They beg Him to open the prison doors wide. Oh for freedom.

They wait for Him in the small towns. Waiting for Him to come put together the brokenness that has become a normal they can’t ever seem to shake. They wait for Him to put together the marriages; destroyed by lust, addictions, pleasures that never seem to be satisfied. In their little hearts they wish for the pills to be thrown away, the bottles destroyed.  Beside small beds they ask for their daddy to love Jesus and to come home again. He hasn’t come home for Christmas in a long time. Oh for a Daddy.

They wait for Him in the Red Light districts and dirty brothels. Numb to any beauty of life, it seems impossible imagining anything outside of this place. But in the darkness, as their last customer for the night has finally left, they find their hearts crying out for something. Anything more than this living hell.

They plead for a Rescuer. Oh for a Redeemer.

They wait for Him on the bench inside the large, beautiful stain-glassed sanctuary. Put together on the outside, yet their insides have been dying for so long now. Change seems impossible, pretending now a part of who they have become. Secret sins shredding them apart, overwhelmed by lies, they have become complacent and apathetic. They ask Him to for life. To feel something again. If only just for one time. They begin to cry out for a Healer. Someone to make the dry bones come to life. Oh for life.

Hopeless in themselves. The leper without access to any medicine even able to touch such a disease, the child unable to write their own adoption papers, the prostitute without money or power to buy her own freedom, daddy doesn’t even want to come home yet….

But then the darkness begins to shatter, as the King steps back into the world.

We would have given up long ago, but in His kingdom, their stories haven’t ended yet.

They are just beginning.

He makes ALL things new. Feel the weight and beauty and hope of those words.

ALL THINGS.

Someone told the leper about the One who washes all people clean by His blood. Who makes the unclean, “Clean!” The man now laughs as he listens to the stories of Peter, Paul, Moses...the leper who came back and thanked Jesus for healing him too. Surrounded by a community, fully accepted before the King of Kings.

Every night before bed, a sister at the orphanage told the children about a Daddy who had written adoption papers for each of them. A Daddy who wanted them all, sick or well. A Daddy who had come to bring them into His family forever, a Daddy who would love and protect them and never leave them. The little boy believed in this Daddy, and when he grew up, he came back to the orphanage with his wife and they signed adoption papers to bring 3 babies home. He sits at the table next to his wife and their 3 children, all healed from AID’s here. I see them smiling and talking to Jesus.

Someone went to that small house and started doing life with that family.  More people were raised up to pray over those children and to join them in asking for their daddy to love Jesus and come home. They sit at the table, eating their fill from the best china dishes they’ve ever seen. For the first time in years, they’re getting to eat together as a family. Finally a meal void of conflict, anger, alcohol, drugs, or fear of anyone leaving. I see Jesus wipe their last tear away. They're ALL here.

Someone came to the brothel and rescued the women. Someone opened up their home and took the hardened girl inside. They gave her a safe place to sleep and told her about the Greatest Healer ever to come. She didn’t understand it for a long time, she broke many hearts trying to figure this whole thing out. But now she’s here. She’s been touched by the very hand of Jesus… a hand that will never defile her, never degrade her or use her, a hand that will never sell her for money. She listens intently as Rahab tells her story. You see them taking a long walk together with Jesus.

Everyone is made well here. Everyone is made new and clean. The stories never stop coming forth.

Their endings beautiful and they find themselves in perfect worship at the foot of the throne of the King of Kings.

They understand perfectly that it was the King alone who saved them. No one else had the power on earth to set them free. And for some reason or another, He chose to send many “someone’s” along the way to reveal Himself to them.

Together, hand in hand, they rejoice.

Today, I rejoice in the First Advent. That the Savior, God Himself, has come.

And I rejoice in the hope for the Second Advent. For the return of the King.

When He will make ALL things new.

Jesus Only

Picture silence. What do you see?

Nothing. Darkness. The absence of sound. Stillness. A period of time without speech or noise.

400 years of silence. 400 years without a voice from the Lord calling out to His people. 400 years of waiting for the promise of a Messiah to come to fulfillment. And the Lord’s people waited, wanting, desiring, longing, hoping, wondering.

And as a baby’s cry pierced the cold night air, the darkness would be shattered in a million places forever. It would go to China, to Australia, Rome, Greece, South America, India, Japan, Mexico, Chicago, Eureka... The light was now shining in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.

A messenger was sent to prepare the way for this Messiah. Before the foundations of the world were laid, it was determined that John the Baptist would lead and prepare the way for the light. And he did. “John appeared baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” (Mark 1:4)

And when John had accomplished the purpose to which he had been sent, “Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.”

And all through the gospels you see this incredible story falling into place, perfectly fulfilling all of the prophecies that had spoken of its coming. You see the Great Rescuer coming and interacting with people. For the first time, you see God Himself come to dwell with, walk with, laugh with, do life with….sinful men.

Men who, despite their massive failures, would become so radically transformed by seeing the greatest glory of Jesus and believing in this gospel. Men, who would stake their very lives on its truth, would turn the world upside down, and whose sweat and blood would pave the way for people like me and you to hear about and believe in the gospel.

Men who had walked with Jesus.

In Mark 9, we find three of these men on a mountain top with Jesus (Peter, James, and John), and their first hand encounter with the glory of God coming down and being revealed. (Check out Mark 9:1-13)

Jesus has just finished telling them that he has come to suffer and to die, and then he leads 3 of his closest disciples on top of a mountain with him. Here they get a phenomenal, epic “mountain top” experience that completely blew them away.

And while I’ve been meditating on their encounter on the mountain, my mind has been going the most to the verse following.

(Mark 9:8) “And suddenly, looking around, they no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only.”

I love the mountain top experiences of walking with the Lord. When the glory appears so bright, when you are blown away by the Lord, when the Word speaks so clearly and loudly, and when it “seems easy” to be led into worship. When Jesus feels close, spending time with Him such a joy, prayers are being answered, our hearts refreshed, we love our church….the list goes on.

But, regardless of what some might say, life is not lived on the mountain top. Life is not lived in a constant, spiritual high. It’s living in the day to day faithfulness on the road. Some people may be blessed with more mountain top seasons, but eventually all of us are asked to live out our faithfulness in the routine of doing life. And if you’re like me, when you stay there awhile, you can often begin to doubt what the Lord is really up to. You long for the spiritual high, but it’s not coming. It can feel tiring, dry, even hard. Or maybe you have a short season on the mountain, but coming down hits you like cold water in the face as temptation and life quickly set in.

As I am writing this, I am thinking of a new friend I have made up here in Chicago. A new friend who faithfully attends church and small group week after week…alone.

A friend who faithfully keeps praying every day for her husband and children and grandbabies to come to know Jesus.

A friend who has taught me some things these past few months.

Recently we were given the task of setting up a Christmas tree for a church party, and she taught me how to make a Christmas tree stand out of rocks and old buckets and sand. Things you find in back alleys and in church basements.

She’s challenged me in my love for God’s Word. Her Bible is so marked up and highlighted, that it’s falling apart. She loves meeting with Jesus in her mornings.

She tells me she can’t read very well and never wants to read out-loud because she never completed an education past the 7^th grade when she dropped out to have her first baby. But she doesn’t let that stop her from digging into the Word.

She always tells me she’s blessed, even when she says it with tears in her eyes because of how hard her week has been.

She never misses church, even when I find her sitting alone in the back.

I don’t know how many of her weeks, how many seasons she has gotten on the mountain with the Lord, but I can write this with so much confidence that in her darkest days and greatest struggles, this verse is her hope.

Jesus is with her.

She may no longer see anyone with her, BUT JESUS ONLY.

And it’s enough for her to keep walking faithfully day in and day out.

My promise verse of 2011 has been Psalm 139:5, “You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”

I look behind and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there too.

Jesus has been all over 2011, whether we have spent much or very little on the mountaintop. This is to bring much hope to the believer that even if we look around and it feels no one else is still walking with us, Jesus is.

Will He be enough for you this next year? Will you be alright if you look around and it’s Jesus only?
Will you still praise Him if you doesn’t allow you to experience the mountaintop for a long time, but calls you to the road?

Will you acknowledge that Jesus has been there, behind you in these last 12 months, and He’s already there up ahead in 2012?

Jesus only. May that promise be more than enough for us all.

Take Risks

John 15:4: “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the Vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.”

“Be careful.”

An overused phrase that I’ve recently begun to wrestle with in my own life.

I'm struggling to find Jesus telling his disciples in conversation (if ever He says it) to “be careful.” Rather I find Him demanding the opposite, “Take great risks for my name!”

It seems everything in my life is too easily becoming about safety and being comfortable.

The question that I have been wrestling with this week after reading John 15:4 is: Doesn’t bearing more fruit require greater risk? Isn’t it that the more deeply we abide in the Vine, the more we pursue Jesus, the more He prunes us, the more fruit we bear, the GREATER the risks we will be asked to take?

Isn’t abiding deeply in the Vine and letting Jesus go to the deepest and darkest places of our hearts for surgery outright dangerous? Isn’t our relationship with Him the most beautiful, greatest, “safest”, risk we will ever take?

Disclaimer:

I’m not saying we in any way forsake wisdom in the process of taking risks. I am NOT saying that taking risks means to “follow your heart” or pursue sin! I’m not saying we should be stupid and claim the name of risk taking and Jesus.

But, I am saying that maybe this phrase “be careful” and “be safe” needs to be reconsidered.

Consider the following from the Apostle Paul:

“And now, behold, I am going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there, except that in every city that imprisonment and affliction await me. BUT I DO NOT COUNT MY LIFE OF ANY VALUE not as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course…” (Acts 20:22-24)

“Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea…danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers…” (2 Corinthians 11)

I think Paul must have missed the memo about being careful.

“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be WISE as serpents and innocent as doves. …they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues…and you will be hate by all for my name’s sake.” (Matthew 10)

Interestingly, I’m not seeing anything about being safe or comfortable in the words of Jesus either.

If you live gladly to make others glad in God, your life will be hard, your risks will be high, and your joy will be full. This is not a book about how to avoid a wounded life, but how to avoid a wasted life. Some of you will die in the service of Christ. That will not be a tragedy. Treasuring life above Christ is a tragedy.” John Piper

A good friend of mine started telling me “Take risks Gerb.” I wish I remembered that more often.

I need to start taking some more risks.

Some risks at loving people. With the gospel. In sacrificing. In prayer. In worship. With my time.

And yes, my heart might get broken in the process. And the journey will most likely NOT be safe or comfortable. In fact, there’s a very good chance it must end just like Paul’s.

So why take risks? What’s the benefit? What’s the purpose?

John 15:8 “By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.”

The greater risk I take in Jesus, the more of Jesus I get. The more of Jesus I get, the more fruit I bear, and the Father is glorified. The more fruit, the more glory, the more joy.

It’s not (as I used to struggle with thinking) Jesus standing there saying, “Come take risks with me and I’m going to rip your guts out and leave you dying on the road.”

No, but rather ….

“Come, come take risks with Me. Come walk and abide deeply in Me. Let me do an incredibly painful but BEAUTIFUL work in your heart that when all is said and done is going to be worth every second of surgery. Come, lose yourself and find Me. Find me for all that I am. Your good shepherd, your living water, your bread of life, your wine, the way and truth and LIFE. Come take risks with Me and find my goodness and mercy in ways you never will if you stay safe and comfortable. Come join me in bringing my glory to the ends of the earth. The darkest streets, dangerous ghettos, broken small towns, empty suburban’s, lifeless slums, and searching campuses. Come join with Me in becoming a part of the greatest story ever told to mankind.”

And so I would ask, please don’t tell me to “be safe” but rather “take some risks for Jesus today.”

And may my life be someday said to be that of those in Acts 15:26:

“Men who risked their lives for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Weight of Eternity

I love the rare afternoons like this here in Chicago. A gentle rain falls from the darkening skies surrounding the city, aroma’s of a hot pumpkin spice latte fill the air, the house is quiet, and I don’t have anywhere to be in the next few hours. A small unexpected gift of time to sit here and meditate on the Word, do some writing, and just think. It would seem life has forced me to do a lot of that this past week.

A few days ago, I sat at the funeral of a beautiful, 13 year old girl who was killed last week.

In that I watched a lot of middle school students walk through a line and say goodbye to their classmate. The previous night I had sat and just listened to a room full of junior high girls who shared memories and wept over the loss of a good friend. Life became a lot heavier this week.

I’m not sure I’ll really understand something like this.

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In my time in the Word, I have slowly been making my way through the book of John. I was struck this last week with the sudden transition from the miracles in the first 11 chapters, to finding Jesus in His final Passover Week (John 12&13). As He comes into Jerusalem and is met with shouts and praises from the people, you find only a few verses later Jesus sitting down at his last meal with the disciples.

Vs. 3“And Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God….”

I love that Jesus had all things in His hands. I love the truth that Jesus knew all things before time even began. I love the truth that the Cross was such a choice of Jesus Himself, that none of this was a surprise to Him, and that nothing was out of His control. No one could take His life from Him. No one could thwart His plans or His purpose for this event.

Not even John 13:2, “During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot to betray him….”

Knowing exactly what Judas was about to do to Him, knowing exactly what Peter would say, knowing exactly how all of these men in the room with Him, would in the moment of decision, flee from Him….

In this moment, the very Creator of all things…..

“Rose from supper.”

“He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist.

Then…..He poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet….”

The very hands that had knit them together in their mother’s wombs were washing their feet. The very hands that would soon be covered in blood and pierced by nails- these hands were gently, slowly, washing the dirt away. The very hands that would be bound and shackled, were washing the feet of even the enemy that would betray and sell Him?

Silence must have filled the room as the Word that had become flesh knelt down in front of each of the disciples.

“Lord, you’re going to wash my feet?” –Peter

“What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.” – Jesus

The tension that arises in Peter, arises in my own heart.

“Not this Lord. Not this kind of work. You shouldn’t be doing this. This is for the slaves, for those underneath you. You shouldn’t have to love like this. Not, like this.”

And gently, Jesus loves Peter enough to tell him how badly his feet need to be washed.

All filled with grace and truth, He reminds Peter once again how badly he needs his sins washed away.

And no one else can do that for Peter. Only Jesus.

And this is the only way. The cross is the only way. The washing by the blood is the only way for Peter to be made clean. For Peter to be healed and whole.

“Not yet, but soon you’re going to get this Peter. Soon you’re going to understand what all of this means.” – Jesus

Even this disciple who had walked with Jesus personally for 3 years needed his feet to be washed.

Even this disciple needed to understand his need for the blood of Jesus.

And as both a beautiful act of humility and service, more importantly Jesus signified to the 12 in the room that He had come, come to wash away their sins.

He had come to redeem them.

I need my feet to be washed.

Cheyenne needed her feet to be washed.

Every person sitting at that funeral looking death in the face needed their feet to be washed.

All of my roommates, all of my students need their feet to be washed.

There is not one, no not one who could stand as Jesus kneels down to wash them and say, “I don’t need that. I don’t need You.”

That has been the cry of my heart this week. That we would understand first in our own hearts how badly we need the gospel, and that all others would come to recognize their need as well.

Because it’s when you look at death so closely that you get this heavy weight of eternity that just aches inside of you. And you hope beyond hope, that those you love comprehend the glories of the gospel and invite Jesus to wash their feet.

Because my friend, death is coming for all of us.

In light of eternity, we’ll be there standing there in about 10 minutes.

And in that moment when I am flat on my face in front of the throne of unspeakable glory and the presence of Jesus Christ Himself, the only thing that will matter….

Yes, the only thing that will matter…

Did I let Him wash me clean by His blood?

I found the love of Jesus in these verses so incredibly beautiful and profound. And it forced me to stand in the weight of eternity and turn my eyes to the glory of the gospel.

May it do the same for you.

Hearing His Name

My first graders have been little scoundrels the past month or so. They’ve successfully managed to get written up by the art, music, and Chinese teachers; they’ve lost recess at least three times because they can’t stand in a line without talking, and the principal herself has reprimanded them on several occasions for their behavior. They’ve taken home red faces instead of green, notes about behavior problems instead of compliments, and have lost privileges of even the most envied “treats” my mentor teacher hands out for students who are listening.

I can’t tell you how hard it is to get 27 kids to walk in a line, very quietly, up a set of stairs.

But I love my kids.

And I know, even on our bad days together, my kids love me.

I made a surprise visit to my students after one of my ISU classes let out and came just in time to pick them up from library. “MISS EMILY!!!!!!!” 27 little children began screeching and attacking me with hugs.

“You’re late!!!!!” one little boy scolded me.

“Miss Emily where were you today????”

“Miss Emily, you weren’t here to pour our cereal out for us at breakfast. So we plugged the drain!” (My all-time favorite line)

One of my hardest little boys (who I hadn’t seen in almost a week) came running and threw his arms around me. “Miss Emily, I missed you!!!!”

On my last teaching observation from my ISU professor, she commented, “I noticed all the kids call you Miss Emily. I love that. I wish everyone did that.”

I love that my kids know my name. It’s so much of my identity and who I am. And interestingly enough, it was REALLY important to my kids that I knew every single one of their names. The first few weeks I was always forgetting and getting names mixed up, and on the day when I finally got them right, I was met with huge smiles and “Finalmente Miss Emily! ¡Tú sabes mi nombre!”

As important as it was to my little scoundrels that I know their names, it’s always going to be equally important to me that every student knows my name.

John 10:14

“I am the good shepherd, I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father, and I lay down my life for the sheep.” – Jesus

Here in John 10, Jesus paints for us a picture of a deep, deep, deep relationship. As intimately and deeply as the relationship between the Son and the Father, so Jesus says is His relationship with us. With open hands, He offers us the most satisfying opportunity for freedom that could ever exist. Just sit in that for awhile.

But this offer came with a price. The wolves threatening to attack the sheep had to be defeated- forever. John 10 is this beautiful story of a Shepherd seeing wolves coming at his flock of sheep. Given the choice, He doesn’t leave them to be slaughtered, but rather fights the wolves, draws them away from the flock, saves the sheep- and in doing so lays down His very life.

 But the story doesn’t end with a dead shepherd. Given the power to defeat even death and hell, this Great Shepherd rose to life as a sign of triumphant victory.

As I have been reading this chapter, I have been meditating a lot on John 10:14 and 10:16.

“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

“Jesus didn’t come into the world for a few Jewish disciples in Palestine. He has other sheep not of this fold…He has sheep in Antioch and Athens, Mexico City, London, Chicago. Beijing and Calcutta and Tehran and Moscow….”- Piper

I believe that in John 10 Jesus shows us that dying to self is such a beautiful thing. In doing so, you get invited into a deeper, more satisfying relationship than the world has ever known. You get to know Jesus in a way so few people are experiencing. And through that relationship, we get to see others being added to the flock of the Great Shepherd from all over the world.

And when I understand glimpses of the depth of the relationship Jesus wants to have with me, my heart response should be a longing and desire that others experience that as well.

We should hear Him calling our name all the time. We should feel Him pursuing our hearts, beating them with love, chastening them, drawing them to Himself. All the time.

And when I feel the great gap and distance between what I know I should be experiencing and what I actually feel, I am reminded of James 4:

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts…Humble yourselves before the Lord.”

Maybe it’s time that some of us have a funeral….to ourselves and our flesh. Maybe it’s time a few of us take a journey to the foot of the cross and stay there awhile and remember. Maybe it’s time we wash ourselves in the water of the Word, and humble our hearts in prayer. Maybe it’s time we finally have some conversations with people who have been heavy on our hearts.

I began my blog this week with stories about my students and the importance of knowing their names, and them knowing mine. It’s the same picture with Jesus- we need to take some time to reflect on where our relationship with Him is really at.

Are we hearing Him call our names?

And equally as important, are we calling on His?

May we throw all we have into knowing the fullness of Jesus Christ. And when it costs us everything, which it will, may we celebrate the depth and freedom and life that dying to self brings about. For the praise of HIS glorious name!

“I want the presence of God Himself, or I don't want anything at all to do with religion... I want all that God has or I don't want any.”
― A.W. Tozer