The Now and Not-Yet Kingdom of God

For the past three years I have had the joy and the privilege of working with and learning from these 49 men and 2 women. Representing at least nine different evangelical denominations, we met together every six months with the goal of accelerating the rate of church planting in France. Among the participants, there is a vision to plant ninety new churches over the next three years...some denominations planting as many as 30 churches in that time frame, some as few as 4. All seeking to make their best contribution towards seeing God's kingdom come in France.

I was not on a denominational team for this project, but on the team that was facilitating the gatherings. My specific role was to plan and lead the times of spiritual reflection and formation. The facilitation team had decided early on that we wanted each gathering to be marked by a spiritual rhythm, so we did not simply begin and end each day with prayer; rather, we paused several times each day to read scripture, intercede for each other, and listen to God.

One of our final spiritual exercises was to build an "Altar of Remembrance." First we read the story of Moses and the battle of the Amalakites. At the end of the story, Moses builds an altar to the Lord and calls it, "The Lord Is My Banner." I talked about how the name given to an altar expressed both gratitude for what God had done and hope for God would do in the future. I then asked each person to consider what name they would give to an altar that was built to commemorate what God had done in and through us over the past three years. Next, each participant was given a card that had his or her own photo attached to it. They were asked to write the name of  their altar next to their photo. Finally, each person was invited to come to the front of the room to share the name of their altar, and then to add their card to our communal altar. In this way we proclaimed together what God has done AND declared our hope for what He would continue to do. Here was how our altar turned out:

It was a holy moment. We concluded by singing several songs of gratitude and praise together. So there's a small peek at one of the ways God is working in France. To Him be the glory!

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40 Things I Love about My Forties!

Today is my 45th Birthday. I like my age, and I'm glad for every one of the 45 years I've lived. They'll be no whining about the fact that reading glasses are now a required accessory or that I can't pack away the ice cream like I used to. I love the changing seasons of life, each one bringing new hopes and dreams into focus. 

So as I hit the half-way mark through my forties, I thought I'd list 40 things I love about my forties--so far. Ready?

Thus far, in my forties...

1. I learned to speak French!
2. I fell in love with comté, vouvray, and fois gras.
3. I saw both my boys graduate from high school.
4. I learned to knit.
5. I became a "grand voyageur" according to SNCF, the French rail system.
6. I started seminary.
7. I tried to write a book, and failed, but didn't regret trying!
8. I went to Spain, Austria, Ireland, Italy, Croatia, and Greece for the first time.
9. I started learning calligraphy.
10. I went through a "dark night of the soul" and lived to tell about it.
11. I came to terms with my apostolic and prophetic gifting, and gave up trying to fit into the "good Christian woman" box.
12. I made the switch to an iPhone and did not lose my soul.
13. I fell more and more and more in love with David.
14. I got a Dutch God-daughter!
15. I learned to love community prayer. I learned to need community prayer.
16. I changed my view about the role of women in the church.
17. I stopped driving (except when I'm in the States) and learned to rely on public transportation.
18. I stopped buying clothes that are "Made in China." I started buying Fair Trade Coffee.
19. I discovered Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises--and did them. And keep doing them.
20. I learned to practice the discipline of Silence. Every. Single. Day.
21. I became a "third culture" person. No longer fully American, yet never fully French.
22. I kept running, even though I would have liked to have quit.
23. I stopped eating or drinking anything with artificial sweeteners and greatly reduced my sugar intake at the same time.
24. I became a church planter.
25. I marveled at the wisdom of my young adult children. 
26. I found that I love to read memoirs.
27. I learned to wear scarves. And boots. And even bikinis.
28. I made amazing friends at George Fox Evangelical seminary--Shout out to Cohort 14!
29. I have a deepening appreciation of God's work in my life.
30. I participated in the Leighton Ford Mentoring Community, which ministered to me in deep and healing ways.
31. I skied in the Alps. Lots of times.
32. I learned to make Tartiflette. Yum-o!
33. I started putting honey in my tea.
34. I lost a house, and realized, in the end, I didn't need a house anyway.
35. I discovered the band Of Monsters and Men (Thanks, Graham!)
36. I preached a lot. In French. But I also learned that I don't need to preach. My identity is no longer tied to my gifts.
37. I crocheted an Angry Birds hat and a stuffed Hobbes (from Calvin and Hobbes). Those are my favorite things I've ever made!
38. I  reached the expert level of Hot Shots Golf on the Play Station (Thanks, Chan!)
39. I finally read Richard Foster's classic book on Prayer and regretted waiting so long to read it.
40. I am less and less sure of me, and more and more sure of Jesus.

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Madrid

The largest hotel in Europe

Every now and then in this missionary journey, I find myself in places that I have no business being. I sit at tables among giants, keenly aware of the reality that while the others have knowledge and experience that makes their presence at the table something to be desired, I am merely a guest. I did not earn my place at the table. But for some reason Jesus pulled out a chair and invited me to sit down. And so I sit, aware that I am on holy ground.

This was my experience in Madrid,

Eighty Christian leaders from 16 different European countries representing a broad spectrum of denominations came together to talk about leading national processes for church planting.

The conference was a Learning Community. What that means is that rather than operating like a traditional conference, where all of the information and expertise comes from speakers at the front of the room, participants are given an active role to play. Only about a third of the time is dedicated to the presentation of information. The rest of the time is spent in groups of 5-8 around tables, processing, understanding, and synthesizing the content of the presentations. And in the end, national teams are given time to make plans of action, considering how they might actually apply or implement the things that they have discovered through the process.

What's even more inspiring is the fact that as we come together as believers, the Spirit of God is also among us, leading us, helping us, correcting us, and challenging us. The organizers build time into the schedule to stop and listen to Lord, inviting Him into every conversation, giving Him authority over every decision, trusting Him at every turn. We worship together. We pray for each other. We study the Word. The facilitators do everything in their power to make sure that Jesus is on center stage, all the time, no matter what. And as these men and women lifted up their gates, the King of Glory came in.

Please don't interpret my wonder about what happened as ignorance concerning the complex issues facing the evangelical church in Europe today. The diversity between countries is much more pronounced than any similarities they might share, and what works in one nation may not work in another. There is no pat answer, no one-size-fits-all method that will result in healthy churches popping up on every corner. But this same complexity might also be a strength, allowing for multiple streams of success and promoting cross-pollination. It also keeps leaders from seeking a "magic bullet" and gives them permission to wrestle with the challenges, imagine creative solutions, and seek dynamic partnerships that have never before been considered.

I have been in the midst of the faithful, the fearless, and the forward-thinking. They can see a future where the Kingdom of God is expanding in the continent of Europe in tangible, redemptive, and transformative ways. And they want to go there together.

My role was small (miniscule, really!), but I felt privileged to play it. I was invited to lead the daily meditations, or times of spiritual reflection, on the subject of unity. I love it when the Lord speaks clearly, and in my time of preparation, I did have a sense of the Spirit's leading. But oh, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy as I stood before some of the best leaders and theologians on the continent and dared to open my mouth.

"Who am I," I kept asking myself, "that I should address such a room full of wisdom?"

"The least among them," came the response.  And I could almost see the hint of a smile play around the mouth of God as the words entered my head. "The very least among them."

Yes, isn't that just like God? The one who welcomes children, who dines with sinners, who seeks and saves the lost. Of course He would be able to speak through the most unlikely person in the room. Of course He would. For in this way, He would be seen. Not through my titles or diplomas or authority--for I have none! But through my weakness and my brokenness.

Yes, I am convinced that the Lord had his way in Madrid. And He could have done it with or without me, or any other person in the room, for that matter. Only He invited us, each one to the table. And in faith, with fear and trepidation, we sat down.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

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Another Au Revoir

Tears in my eyes.

I spent the past hour with my friend--the woman you know as Marie. You prayed for her. You shared her journey as she came to a living faith in Jesus. Over the past three years she has continued to grow in the Lord. She witnesses to her friends and family, she prays, she studies her Bible. She lives a life that has been transformed by the power of the risen Lord, free from fear and marked by joy and love. She and I have become very close, I consider her to be my French mother. She has helped me with language and culture and (like a mother) she always seems to notice (and comment!) if I put on any extra weight. I love her dearly, this sister in Christ.

And today I told her goodbye

Oh this missionary life we lead, a life that seems to be smearing my heart all across the globe. We invest deeply in friendships, find community, join together in God's work, and then we leave.

I know this is the life to which I have been called.

And I love it.

And I hate it.

Some days it is exciting, even glamourous. Some days it is blissfully ordinary. And some days it just plain stinks.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.

I showed up at Marie's house empty-handed. Over the past several weeks she has been showering me with gifts in anticipation of my upcoming departure. She has given me flowers from her garden, a wonderful bottle of sparking wine, and a gorgeous rug that she bought years ago in southeast Asia. And so I wanted to give her a momento--something tangible to tell her how much she means to me. But everytime I tried to think of an appropriate gift, I drew a blank.

As we wept and hugged, I told her that I had wanted to bring her a gift, but that I couldn't figure out what to give her.

With tears in her eyes, she looked into my soul and said, "What to give me? You have already given me the most important thing! Because of you I know Jesus. Because of you I have eternal life. There is no greater gift."

This is the reason we are in France.

And so as I leave yet another part of my heart here in this town and move on to the next, I lean on the One who bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. The One who is Love. The One who never fails. I remember that he left the comforts of his heavenly home to make salvation known to the world. I remember that the Son of Man had no place to lay his head. I remember that he goes before me. And I trust him to meet me there.

And I begin to pray for the "Maries" of Lyon....

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Au Revoir

On Monday, if all things go as planned, David and I will make a five hour drive to Lyon to sign a lease on our new apartment. We won't move until the middle of August, but between now and then we will go to a conference in Germany, and so next week will be our last full week living in the Loire Valley.

As part of our farewell tour, we're going to some of our favorite spots. Yesterday we went to the château and gardens at Villandry.

David and I enjoyed the shade of the grape leaves...

...while Selah (a friend from the States) and Chandler mimicked the silhouettes on Grecian urns. 

We ended the morning with a picnic in a nearby park. It was a lovely day!

We also went to the nearby town of Amboise this week for some of our favorite gelato. They always make the cones look like flowers, which makes this a treat that is tasteful in every way!

I'm so thankful we have Selah here because she is giving us a wonderful excuse to visit all our favorite spots one more time before our move.

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Pour

Jesus was in Bethany, dining at the home of Simon the Leper. His disciples were with him, as were his dear friends, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. As usual, Martha was busy in the kitchen, though this time she does not seem bothered that Mary wasn't helping her. Mary certainly didn't have cooking on her mind that night.

Without fanfare or explanation, Mary brings out her finest jar of perfume. It's extravagance is difficult to imagine, it would have cost 11 month's wages. In today's terms that's about $40,000. Stop and think about that for a moment. The perfume in the alabaster jar was valued at the equivalent of $40,000.

If you had $40,000 lying around the house what would you do with it? 

Mary poured this perfume--the whole bottle--onto Jesus. A fraction of the bottle would have been a generous offering. The whole bottle? It was prodigious. It was preposterous. It was so extreme that the others were not inspired by her gift, they were appalled. Disgusted. Scandalized. 

They all began to scold her, proud in their practicality. I suppose they expected Jesus to reprimand her as well. What a waste!

But Jesus welcomes the gift. He receives every excessive ounce. The God-man was worthy. In fact, he is worthy of all the bottles of all the perfume in the entire world. Mary couldn't give him all that he deserved, but she did what she could. How deep and sure was Mary's love for Jesus!

Do I love him like that? Do I love him so much that I pour out my best for him? Or do I excuse the modesty of my giving, believing that extravagance is only for the rich; thinking that generosity is the duty of the financially secure? The fact is, one need not have much to be openhanded. There is no minimum income requirement on generosity--the freedom to give is one of the world's great equalizers. 

If you are reading this blog on a computer, or a smart phone, you are (compared to much of the world) wealthy. Though many of us live month to month, few of us ever miss a meal. The sad truth is, we have tied up all of our means to maintain a certain standard of living. We pour our best out on our own comfort and pleasure, while trusting that Jesus can make do with small, cheap bottles of eau de toilette. 

But is isn't a question of Jesus making do. He doesn't need my money. It is a question of love and devotion. Jesus never minced words about it. He clearly said, "where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

Notice that the heart follows the money, not the other way around. That is to say, if I wait until I'm "feeling" it, I will keep pouring out my perfume on my own coddled self. But if I choose to pour out my perfume on Jesus, my heart will go to him, too. It starts with a choice, true love always starts with a choice.

All the disciples shamed Mary, treated her as if she had lost her senses. It turns out that she was probably the wisest, most deliberate person in the room. Her love lead her to make a bold decision. After the giving she probably loved Jesus even more. Her treasure had been lavished upon her savior, sealing her heart to his.

When I say I love Jesus, but that love doesn't cost me anything, perhaps I do not mean what I say. Love, by definition, gives. For God so loved the world that he GAVE. He gave his best for me, a gift so extravagant that I will not ever have enough perfume to pour out at his feet. Yet, I'm often spritzing and dabbing what little I posses. 

I need to break open the bottle and pour.

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A Day for Birthdays

This amazing boy turned 17 years old yesterday!

We celebrated his greatness by inviting a few friends over, friends aged 7-70 

(Diversity of age in friendships is one of my favorite things about living in community!)

These friends were asked to share an affirmation for Chandler.

He was honored for being hardworking, polite, faithful, compassionate, fun-loving, and kind. 

True. All true.

He received each word of encouragement with humility and grace.

And then we ate the cheesecake, which was his cake of choice.

Meanwhile, back in the States...

My oldest nephew anxiously awaited the birth of his first-born son.

This baby boy--the debut of a new generation--was named for both his father (Jordan Burris Korth)

And my father (Burris Dennis)

And he shares a birthday with Chandler.

Introducing  Burris Korth, Born April 22, 2014

Burris with his grandma (my sister, Barbara)


Much love and hearty congratulations to the new parents, Jordan and Chelsea!

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A Word About Mothers

I'm sick of it.

Sick. Of. It.

I'm sick of the perversion and glorification of motherhood that I see continually spread across the cyber-world. The video that pushed me over the edge is a video that depicts job-applicants being interviewed for a "job" that requires 24-hour duty, often standing up, with no breaks and no sleep, and by the way, it doesn't pay anything either. Of course, all of the applicants are appalled and cry "No one would do such a job!" To which the interviewer replies, "Yes, in fact many people do. It's the job of being a mom." And then all of the applicants get all mushy and nostalgic, pouring out gratitude to their mothers.

Such appeals are perhaps understandable apart from Christ. I get how the world could arrive at these conclusions. But as a believer, they make my stomach churn. 

First, motherhood is NOT A JOB! It is a calling and a privilege. It is an honor. It is a sacred role, but it is NOT a super-human endeavor. In fact, it is the very most basic human endeavor possible. God created women to be mothers and men to be fathers, and it was his joy to share creation with us through the act of procreation. The slight insinuation that there could (or should) be any sort of compensation put on such a sacred role is on the same level as suggesting that men pay their wives for sex. Do you see how it cheapens the very thing that flows out of love? Yuck! Just, yuck!

Secondly, this idea that motherhood is  "so hard" reveals how selfish we have become in our thinking. Because I struggled with infertility and faced the possibility that I might never have children, I am left with only one feeling for every hard day I've ever had as a mom: gratitude! I promise you that no matter how difficult you think it is to be a mother, there are thousands of women who, having never had that joy, would trade their best day for your hardest day in a heartbeat. If you are a mother you have been given a gift! Stop whining about it. 

Thirdly, why this need for applause? If motherhood is truly its own reward (which I believe it is) why are we begging for adulation in the public arena? Why do we need validation from outsiders or recognition for our role? It is not enough that we have been entrusted with the rearing of another human life? Is it not enough that we have the opportunity to love and shape a real person? Can't we just delight in the sheer pleasure of mothering without needing a pat on the back? Are we missing the blessing because we are too worried about the reward? God does not give us children to make us feel important. Our value should be firmly rooted in our identity as children of God, not mothers of children. What have we become?

Fourthly, this idea of mother as "victim" or "employee" is pathetic! While I am certain that I am a competent, fully-engaged mother, I have never thought of my self as "never getting a break," or "not able to eat until after my children had finished eating," or even felt that I was at the mercy of my boys. Hello, I AM the parent. I CAN set boundaries. Children can be taught (at quite a young age, I might add) to be patient, considerate, and even to entertain themselves. While we carefully meet all of their needs, David and I have never seen our kids as the "bosses." In fact, in order for them to understand and appreciate God's authority it was important for our boys to realize that they were NOT in charge right from the very beginning. 

And finally, I hate the message that such a video sends to my kids. It makes them out to be demanding and burdensome, when in reality they are the best gifts I've ever received. 

Children are a blessing. They are not our employers. They are not a job. They are not trophies. They are not the source of our identity. They are not the reason for our existence. When did we lose our way?

Mothers, please stop seeking approval from the world. Just love and serve your family as God leads you. He's the boss.

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Love Notes from Dad

My Dad, who always made my school lunches, would often tuck little notes of encouragement into my brown bag. I remember feeling such a boost when, in the midst of a hectic school day, I would sit down in a noisy lunchroom, open my sack, and find his tender words among my sandwich and carrot sticks.

This week, it seemed like my heavenly Father sent me a few such love notes. As I traveled to the town of Mâcon to help train mentors for emerging French leaders, as I was far from family and immersed in many unknowns, as I timidly stepped out into a new ministry opportunity, God whispered words of blessing through unexpected messengers.

The first whisper came on the train. I had already traveled from Tours to Paris and traversed Paris via the metro from Gare Montparnasse to Gare de Lyon. Then I boarded another train in order to get from Paris to Mâcon. I found my seat at the back of the car and settled in with my computer to work on a monthly report. I tapped away on the keyboard for about half an hour, and then paused to eat a sandwich. In that moment, my seatmate--a thirty-something French man--asked, "Are you Jennifer Williamson?" It turns out that my seatmate was a pastor who was headed to Mâcon to be trained and encouraged as a mentor, and he recognized me from a photo in an email where I had been introduced as one of the facilitators for the group. We had a lovely conversation the rest of the journey. In that moment it was as if God said to me, "I see you."

The second whisper came at the retreat center the next day. The man who was in charge of all the logistics for the event approached me just before a lunch break seeking a minute of my time. I thought he was going to tell me something about a reimbursement for my travel expenses, but he hesitated and said instead, "I had a dream or a vision or something last night, and I think I am supposed to tell you about it." He was almost apologetic, not wanting to freak me out, and insisting that it could have just been a strange dream, but he wanted to tell me about it nonetheless. In the dream, he saw me before the throne of God, praying for something that had been heavy on my heart for a long time--though he didn't know exactly what that "something" was. He then heard the Lord say, "Be patient." And that was it. I thanked him sincerely. In that moment it was as if God said to me, "I hear you."

The third whisper came on the last day of the conference. There was a man at the mentoring community in Mâcon who had also been at the church planting conference in Lyon two weeks prior, where I had been responsible for the times of meditation. He sought me out intentionally to tell me how the Lord had used the meditations that I had shared in Lyon to speak specifically to him. God touched him in an amazing and unexpected way--in a way that I could never have anticipated or orchestrated. I was blown away by his story, and I thanked him for telling it to me. In that moment it was as if God said to me, "I'm using you."

I could have opened my Bible to Genesis and the story of Hagar and realized through her experience that God sees me. I could have read Hannah's story in the book of 1 Samuel and deduced that God hears me. I could have scanned through Paul's many letters and come to the conclusion that God uses his children for his purposes. And yet....

And yet God, in his tender mercy, chose to speak these things directly to me, he chose to write them into the very pages of my life. He sends loving, personal expressions of his grace if I just open my heart to receive them. He's such a great Dad.

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Happy Birthday, Graham!

As of today, I have an adult child. Graham is 18.

At lunch, he quoted one of our favorite authors, Mark Twain:

My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.

Oh yes, he was trouble. And yes, I enjoyed it. Every challenge was a blessing, every struggle a joy. And while I know (tears glistening in my eyes) that motherhood doesn't end when children reach adulthood, there is a strange feeling of accomplishment in seeing one's offspring come of age.

He is wise, and honest, and practical, and real. And most of all, he is ready.

I love you, my bug. It's an honor to be your mom. You are the answer to the longest prayer I ever prayed. And in every way you are immeasurably more than all I asked or imagined. I'm thankful for the miracle God gave us in you.

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GEM France Retreat

Ahhh, the joy of being in the Alps! And not just because my hair behaves perfectly in the dry mountain air. No, our time away was fun-filled and inspirational to boot. We are blessed to be a part of an amazing group of GEM missionaries and the few times a year that we all get to together are always rich.

 

At the camp, we are spoiled by good food--that we don't have to plan or make or clean up! We are also spoiled by field leaders who raise special funds for the retreat so that it barely costs anything for our entire family to go! But best of all, the GEM France retreat is always a safe place. Some of our colleagues are going through rough times with ministry or family. When we get together, they can share from their hearts, be refreshed, and find encouragement. Others come with great joy and enthusiasm for how God is working among and through them. These people bring energy and hope into the mix. Some come weary; they find rest. Some come thirsty; they are quenched. Some come  reluctantly; even they leave with unexpected blessings.

This  time I was especially blessed by my GEM family because they gave Graham the opportunity to lead worship for the first time in his life. He's helped us lead in the past, but this time he was the boss. He selected the music, called the rehearsals, and did all the praying and talking. Graham is a gifted musician and a natural leader, but he still felt nervous and really wanted to do well. I am so thankful for how our teammates welcomed and blessed his efforts. Some are, you know, not exactly Spring Chickens. Yet, they sang Skillet and Jesus Culture and Flyleaf music as if they loved it. They worshiped, whether or not they liked the genre. And yes, I was very proud. Graham trusted in the Lord's leading, stepped out in faith, and saw God work through him. 

Here's a sign that we've been in France for a while: we went to the Alps and didn't bother to take a single photo! All photos used here were taken by a new teammate, Jordan Egli. He's an awesome photographer. Thanks, Jordan!

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Inconceivable

Today I was thinking about Aimée, my precious god-daughter. Don't let that sweet face fool you, she's only smiling because I had raisins. Mostly she screams when I hold her. Which is fine, because I love her just the same.

She doesn't like me yet, and while I hope that she one day grows to like me, my feelings for her will never change. I love her.

She doesn't know that I've bought her a special bracelet. It's too big for her now, but it will be waiting for her once she grows into it. I hope she likes it. But if she doesn't, that's okay. She can reject all the gifts I give to her, and it won't change my love for her one bit.

I don't know if Aimée will prefer ballet or football, but whichever she likes, I'll like it too. I'll cheer her on even if she's lousy, because my love for her isn't based on her abilities.

I don't know if Aimée will like dolls or legos, but whichever she likes, I'll like too. I'll play with her as much as she'll let me, because I just look forward to spending time with her.

Aimée doesn't have to do anything great or be anything important for me to love her. I just love her.

I delight in watching her. I long for her smile. I weep for her tears. I love to caress her soft head, to squeeze her fat feet, and to hear her say "uh-oh!" I don't even mind changing her dirty diapers.

And as I was thinking about this little girl who really does not have a clue who I am, this sweet baby girl that wants nothing to do with me just yet, God spoke to my heart.

I love you like that, only better.

You don't have to do anything great or be anything important for me to love you.

You have no idea of the gifts I am storing up for you.

I delight in watching you.

I long for your smile.

I weep for your tears.

I don't even mind cleaning up your messes. I died for those messes.

I just love you.

Inconceivable! How can God love me so completely, so deeply, so perfectly? I'm a mess, yet He loves me. And just like Aimée can't begin to understand my love for her, I can't begin to understand God's love for me. I look for raisins from His almighty hand and contend myself with passing fancies rather than rest secure in the love of the one who holds me. 

Today I want to stop squirming in His arms and choose to trust in His goodness. He loves me!

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Forgiven, again

Just when I think I'm growing; just when I think I have finally grasped something about what it means  to belong to Jesus; just when I think that maybe I'm actually doing that thing he made me to do, I fall face first into the reality of my own brokenness.

I trip over an eagerness to please.

I stumble over misplaced trust.

I am overtaken by a critical spirit; I criticize myself most of all.

I am too easily wounded; too easily discouraged; too easily paralyzed.

I am steeped in awareness of my own sin; bogged down by the burden of my selfish motives; drowning in despair over yet another failure.

Flat out guilty, I ask Jesus if he will forgive me.

He says, "yes!"

(He always says, "yes.")

Then he lifts my chin and waits.

He's waiting for a willing heart. He's waiting for renewed trust. He's waiting, not for perfection, but for acceptance of his grace, his goodness, and his mercy. He's waiting for them to seep into my soul.

I unwittingly resist because I want to somehow be worthy. Or close to worthy. I'd like to find something in myself that merits this unrelenting grace. This goodness that never ends. This mercy that never asks, "Really? Did you have to do THAT again? When will you learn?"

He knows I may never learn. And still he forgives.

Finally his love wins out, breaking down the barriers to my brokenness, filling in the cracks with the salve of his his grace. Goodness and mercy follow me, no matter how often I tell them, "Go away! I'm not worth it!"

And then the joy breaks through, like the first beams of the rising sun. The joy of a soul set free, a heart bathed in redemption. Gratitude overwhelms as I once again grasp the truth of the gospel: I am forgiven.

Finally, I lift my eyes to meet his gaze. No hint of condemnation, no shadow of disappointment. Just delight in a daughter he adores.

I will never understand why he loves me, but I am so glad that he does. 

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Dear David,

You really are my best friend. You are that and so much more!

You are my dearest love, my biggest hero, my fiercest advocate.

You know how to be strong without being harsh; how to be gentle without being weak.

You are one of the funniest people I know, and your quiet, quick wit still catches me off guard and makes me smile.

You are book smart and situation wise, but you are never superior in your interactions with others.

When you play your guitar it makes me swoon, when you parent our boys it makes me proud, and when you hold my hand my heart still skips a beat.

Today, on your birthday, I celebrate you! I delight in you! I shout your praises!

But my words are just a humble reflection of the Lord's: He rejoices over you with singing! I hope, today, that you hear him.

Love,

Jenn

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Remember

Every year on our anniversary, David and I take time to remember the mercies of God.

1993

Jenn graduated

David got promoted

We began saving for a house

David draws a timeline, and then we draw little altars on the timeline and label their significance.

1994

We bought our first house

We were comforted after leaving a church

He got the idea from the Old Testament, where God commanded the Israelites to build altars of remembrance.

1995

Pregnant!- a month after the doctor told me that I was infertile

Birth of our first miracle child

Each year we marvel, because His mercies never cease.

1996

God provides for a new roof in a miraculous way

Surprise! A second miraculous pregnancy

Deliverance from a sin that had gripped David for years

It is easy to get lost in the trials of today and forget the eternal faithfulness of God.

1997

A grace filled conversation with my sister--our last one before she dies

Birth of our second miracle child

So we build our altars of remembrance to remind us of His goodness. And the list goes on and on....

Today, I am linking up with Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday, where writers are encouraged to just write for five minutes on a given prompt, without editing, over-thinking, or backtracking. 

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