{Butterfly} Transformation

I follow (and then when they get annoying unfollow) certain accounts on Twitter. These accounts are often those run by Christian young people who seem to live their lives by tweeting. But once in a while one of them will post something that actually catches my attention, which is why I tolerate one or two. The other night, @GentforChrist posted this:

Why do we give God just the good parts our life? He wants our wretched hearts so He can purify them.
— Imperfect Gent (@GentForChrist) February 12, 2014

At first it didn't seem like much more than trite, Christian lip service. I mean, haven't we all heard this a thousand times, practically every single Sunday at church? But I kept thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more astonishing and profound it became. I tend to come to Jesus with the parts of me that are "purified", the things I believe are "ready" to receive His touch. The parts that I have surrendered already, or that I've already asked him to remove. But see, here's the thing: God isn't in the business of removing; He transforms.

"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."

-Romans 12:1-2

God doesn't want to wait for me to try (and fail) to remove a certain sin or habit or struggle from my life before coming to Him as if He can't take the sight of it. No, He wants my raggle-taggle life and heart. He wants that original, sinful material that is so soiled and worn and wrung-out and wrong, and He wants to transform it into something beautiful and pure.

He wants to take the impatience and melt it down into contentment.
He wants to transform the lust into purity.
He wants to bend the greed into a ring of charity.
He wants to re-mold the bitterness into compassion and the selfishness into love.

By wanting "all of us", He wants the bad with the good, the evil with the pure because we have nothing good or pure outside of what He's given us. When I thought on this concept, it was like some things I've always thought clicked with what I wanted to feel. I mean...I had always known this concept of transformation, but I'd never taken the time to understand it: that I don't have to wait to feel accepted by Him until we've removed the laundry list of issues I have. Yes, I know there are some things in my life that are yet to be transformed but He's working on it. The other night, once I realized that it's not that things will be removed, but that they'll be transformed, a peace settled on my heart.

I understand transformations.

I'm a writer. I'm an artist. I get the fact that things don't go from unformed one moment to flesh and blood the next. There's a creation going on. We don't get from Winter to May in a flash of sunlight. There's a thaw, a relenting, a release. There's a bud, and a blossom, and then the summer comes in its flush of fruit and light and joy. A book isn't written by thinking, "This is a book" and there it is, all eighty-thousand words of it. No. It's sentence by sentence transforming abstract thoughts into tangible words and meanings. A song isn't written in a blinding burst of music. It is notes and melodies and harmonies strung together in intricate harmony.

Jesus is transforming me little by little, day by day. Sometimes I perceive it, sometimes I don't, but He wants all of me. Every little bit. The scrappy parts. The dark parts. The sad and lonely and angry parts. He wants all of it, because the Conjurer of all conjurers, the Magician of all magicians, the Artist of all artists is working with me--all of me--to sculpt me more like Him.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

Try me, and know my anxieties;

And see if there is any wicked way in me,

And lead me in the way everlasting.

-Psalm 139:23-24-

{Framed} The Philosophy of Dressing Well

I've been bringing the topic of fashion back onto this blog the past couple of weeks. It's been just as much a personal challenge as it is for your benefit because let's face it: it's January; it's been raining or snowing for weeks on end; I'm out of money for coffee-runs; I've been working out consistently and it's starting to show a little; I'm out of conventional outfits which means I'm piecing together odds and ends and trying to look better than presentable. Growing up, it took me a while to notice that dressing and dressing well are two very different things. In one case, you're clothing your figure to avoid nakedness and cold and being ostracized by polite society. In the other case, you're using your body like a canvas to display a certain message; you're taking care with your decisions of what you are putting on that body. You are saying that you are beautiful and you care to notice and cherish the fact. Some girls have the desire to dress well but think it can't be done modestly. Others know exactly what message they want to slap across the face of mankind and dress accordingly with care and selfish intent. I want to propose the idea that you can dress with care in a way that brings your modesty front forward as its own unique beauty.

We have each been gifted with a certain beautiful body type. I don't want to hear anyone complaining they are an hourglass instead of a pear or a pear instead of an apple or an apple instead of an hourglass. God (and hence your bone structure) has determined already what sort of body you will have and no amount of dieting or exercise will change that about you. Kiera Knightley is skinny as they come and she's a pear. It's the hips, darlings. I know. I'm an hourglass/pear combo. Knowing your body type and dressing in a way that flatters it is important to dressing well and modestly. If I try to squeeze my pear body into a tight pencil skirt, it will cling to the wrong curves and not only look odd but immodest.

Our common society has this terribly wrong idea that dressing sexy means dressing well. I'm sorry if this conversation is going to make you blush, but it's a point on which I am adamant. Most of the time, dressing to look sexy means dressing look trashy. They assume that our goal as women is to look sexy, to be thought sexy, to promote the sex culture, and to end our acquaintances with men in the bedroom.

No thanks.

Our Christian society has this terribly wrong idea that dressing modestly means shapeless clothing, hiding your figure, and covering every single inch of skin that isn't necessary for breathing. Many women dress to hide their bodies as if embarrassed that they should have curves, as if their femininity cannot be celebrated except in ankle-length skirts and wrist-length tops.

Umm...no thanks again.

Dressing to look beautiful is where modesty and femininity combine in a far more alluring mixture than you could ever get in a massively figure-hugging dress. I think the most definitive quote on this concept comes from actress Emma Watson:

“I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing. If I do an interview with photographs people desperately want to change me - dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there’s the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that’s not me. I feel uncomfortable. I’d never go out in a mini-skirt. It’s nothing to do with protecting the Hermione image. I wouldn’t do that. Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my boobs out and a short skirt, have a look at everything I’ve got?’ My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder.”

Dressing well means weighing your options, choosing clothes that aren't revealing some things and are making the most of others. My point in this post is not to discuss which is sexier but to discuss why we care to dress well. If our goal in our fashion life is not to look sexy and attract men via our bodies, why do we care?

{1}

It is a social grace

When a woman (or man, for that matter) takes thought with the manner in which she dresses herself, she is saying that she thinks you worth her time. She thinks the possibility of meeting with you--with anyone--worth the effort of thinking through her appearance. She tells the world with her grace and class that she takes her adulthood seriously. She values the physical way she was created enough to learn how to present it in its best and most beautiful form.

{2}

It is an act of worship

You might say I go too far in this statement. But if the definition of "worship" is bringing glory to and praising God, the way we dress our bodies can very much be an act of worship. Our bodies are canvasses for proclaiming a particular message: what message would you like to proclaim? I want people to be able to look at me and see that I know I am something special; I am an image bearer; I have dignity and beauty and a purpose here on this earth.

{3}

It is a kind thing

Wait. Did I really just go there? Yes I did. Too many women spend their lives hating their figures. I know. I've been there. I still get there sometimes. I get just as annoyed at you for still needing the gobs of self-image blog posts. But the best way to learn to value your appearance is to act like you value it. And I am quite serious when I say that you look at least ten times better when you've taken the time to put together a pretty ensemble. Seeing how you clean up is a huge morale-booster. Just don't forget the pretty smile along with the lipstick! 

{4}

It is an expression of creativity

One of the fun things about creating a personal style with care is that it is uniquely you. I would probably never wear a grey and yellow-striped shirt with a grey top, grey boots, and bright yellow blazer but my friend Joanna did because it is so her. And she looked fabulous, I might add. You might never mix patterns but I do. You might never combine glitz with utility or romantic styles with preppy undertones, but someone does. After you've learned the basics of what does and does not look good on you, the details are up to your own taste and that leaves room for all sorts of fun and experimentation.

{5}

It's a mental exercise

Seriously. Keeping it sharp, people. If you saw my closet at most times of the year, you'd hardly believe I am able to dress as well as I do. Being able to take a whole lot of fashion odds and ends, dream up creative color combinations and style-pairings, and drumming up the confidence to try something new takes energy and brain-power. Forget Mensa. We've got fashion on a budget. Who cares if you weren't born knowing how to walk in high-heels or color-coordinating your t-shirts? Anyone can learn if they put their minds to it.

These are only five of the reasons I believe that dressing well is worth the effort. This is my fashion philosophy and it has stood me in good stead for some years. Don't be afraid to enjoy fashion. Don't be afraid to try new styles, embrace old styles, forge your own style, and love being a woman.

Cheers, darlings. Femininity is a charming thing.

Koinonia: A Crazy Blessing

Throwback to the last night in Romania

I had meant to write that post about Orthodoxy and The Mind of the Maker like I said, but tonight something else came across my path and, being the little fox I am, I took a detour for a bit. This post was inspired by a post by my friend, Brittany Barden, on The Ivory Cubicle. Her article is excellent for many reasons, (a testimony of her recent mission's trip to Uganda--you should read it), but there was one section that tapped me on the shoulder with a "prickle of recognition". She mentions that she left America prepared to be changed, convicted, and challenged, but said that she did not expect the experience to feel so normal.

I didn't expect to sit in a mud hut, hearing that young boys and old grandmothers are the same the world over. I didn't expect selfies to be a thing with little African kids intrigued by my iPhone. I didn't expect to hear normal conversations about meeting friends for coffee, movie nights with neighbors, or a crisis pregnancy center on the other side of town.

This next bit was what really struck me:

My expected--even desired--lesson of better stewardship to result in greater giving flew out the window of that crowded van as God gently lectured me.

"These people do not need YOU or your money. They already have ALL that they need for life and godliness because they have Me. And before you can help them, you must first realize how much they have to teach you."

This is exactly how I felt when I went to Romania. I didn't expect to find people there who were exactly like people here. I didn't really think I'd be the one who felt given-to. When I came home from Romania and would talk online to the friends I made there, there was this funny give-and-take:

"You challenged us so much!" we would say.
"No, you challenged us!" they'd reply.

 It's a constant thing within my church-fellowship and among other believers that we're always deferring to the other person. That's a biblical trait, yes, but we take it too far. I can be guilty of discounting the effect I have on other people, telling them (in essence), "Oh, you certainly can't be feeling blessed and exhorted by me because you're the one teaching me stuff. I haven't done a gosh darned thing."
 Though my intentions are right (trying to be humble), I can sometimes actually begin to rob the blessing of being used by God by telling the friend that I didn't mean to bless them. We want to put others before us but we are also called to be aware of our ministry.

Maybe my Romanian friends and I were correct. Maybe the Ugandians and Brittany are both right. Maybe this is the principle on which the secret joy of Christian fellowship hangs. Too often in my life I have discounted the great strength which is to be found in fellowship with other believers. I mean, think about it; the word "fellowship" holds about as much meaning for us these days as terms like "get-together", "hanging out", "getting to know that seriously attractive person in a group setting" and "OH GOSH, SHE JUST ASKED ME ON CAMERA WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THIS CHRISTIAN CAMP." But what does "fellowship" really mean?

The term "fellowship" when used in the New Testament comes from the Greek word "koinonia". I remember when I was little we attended a church where they had a time before the service that we were always too late to attend; it remained rather shrouded in mystery and eclat for that reason. They called it "koinonia" and in my young mind, the word held associations of being successful (early enough for once!), getting Amish friendship bread, and something about cornucopias. (Don't ask me why about the last one.)
But back to koinonia. The word itself has roots meaning "joint participation". It comes from a family of words among which are meanings such as "the willingness to fellowship" and "partnering".

Koinonia...fellowship. Willingness to be a part of something. Willingness to be used in a partnership of mutual blessing. I think what Brittany felt in Uganda and what I felt in Romania 9 months ago and in my home just this afternoon...that humbled sense of unconsciously ministering and consciously receiving ministry...I think that's the real definition of fellowship. Perhaps we are more susceptible to realizing the beauty and importance of koinonia while away from our normal surroundings, surrounded by a peaceably foreign normalcy. The need for the richness of our sisters and brothers in Christ does not leave us when we board a flight back to America. It doesn't leave us when we've almost forgotten the heart-rending pain of having to leave that vivid willingness to fellowship we experienced while abroad, nor does it abate when we have begun to wonder if it was quite so beautiful as we remember it after all.
The hunger might be staved off, the pain might be dulled, and we might be like the dwarves in The Last Battle who convinced themselves their mired stall was a gilded hall. But we taste the koinonia sometimes when we least expect it, even here at home when our minds and hearts are dulled by the old normal,  and that is what makes one feel like crying in the last scene of The Return of the King when the fellowship is breaking up: they were a family of fools, gone through fire together, holding onto the light unflinchingly. They did life together. They had each others' backs. When one was weak, the other was strong. Sometimes they were all weak and in those moments someone would at last manage a grim smile and mention something about what they were doing on this Quest anyway, and they straggled onward and upward in the homely comfort of knowing they were in the company of those fighting for and against the same things.

A willingness to fellowship. Koinonia.

So next time you feel that odd sense of having gone somewhere to be a blessing and achieved nothing but having gathered blessing for yourself, don't freak out that you've somehow missed the ministry you hoped to have. Chances are, God has used you in a gracious display of koinonia. Chances are, the people you have gone to were ready for your message and you were ready for theirs. This is always our Father's way; just when we think there's a limited quantity of blessing, He grins and dumps something like honest to goodness fellowship in our laps in that insanely generous way of His.

The Partnership of Mutual Blessing...Just think how awesome Heaven's going to be.

"You're a busy-body." "So sue me."

“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors."

-C. S. Lewis  

When I was little, there was this weird, dry, boring thing called "social studies". I never really knew what they were. It was an optional category on the standardized tests and when we asked Mama why we didn't do them she'd say, "We've got that covered." It wasn't till I grew up that I realized what she meant. See, Mama and Dad raised us to be extroverts. While working with GenJ this fall I was talking to a politico over dinner: "So I take it you've always been this outgoing and...forthright?" he asked with a wry smile.
    I laughed. "Actually I used to be super shy and when I'm around shy people it comes out now and then." (If you're wondering, yeah, he was shy and I started tripping up on my words explaining the situation.)

     Know what dragged me out of my shy funk? People. People are just so darn interesting.

     A quiet, retreating personality might not be able to understand my fascination with people at first thought, but let me ask you a question: have you ever sat by yourself at a coffee-shop and watched someone across the room or out the front window and let your mind wander? That's people-watching. That's social studies. That's finding people too darn interesting to let yourself be a hermit. Mama knew that we were curious kids. She knew that sooner or later, in a world full of color and personalities and back-story and drama, we'd take notice and start watching. She encouraged us to be around people and ask questions and watch life and take part in it. So what if I never took that test or read a social studies book? I read history. I watched people. I used my vibrant little brain and put two and two together and now the East Coast has a voraciously curious young woman on their hands. I can't stop watching people and thinking about people and making up their stories in my head. I have all these weird ideas and because I don't live in NYC or Seattle, I make up for the lack of tangible scenarios by writing books about the scenarios I wish I had time to live.

     I want to write a mystery called Brownstone and explore the relationships of fellow-tenants who ignored each other beforehand, brought into an unlikely, hilarious community by the appearance of a body (or an abandoned baby..don't know which) on their collective doorstep.

     I want to conduct an experiment and write a book called Ten, Noon by choosing one corner of a coffee shop or cafe in a big city and sitting there every day for a year for two hours (from ten to noon) and people-watching and seeing what sort of morphing, yet tight community you'd get. Probably there'd be love and heartbreak and good deeds and deceit and life and death and lots of interesting things happening in that corner, and it'd be a best-seller book when I'd finished and I'd get to sell thousands of copies and buy an old stone house somewhere with the profits. Don't steal my idea. You know it's a good one. (COPYRIGHT 2013 by Rachel Heffington)

     I'm one of the most observant people I know and it's mostly because I grew up in a family that didn't find themselves too busy to walk a little slower, discuss details, and imagine things. I can meet you once and remember your face. I can go home and tell my family exactly what conversations I carried on with whom, what they were wearing, what color their eyes were, and "write" a verbal portrait so my family ends up in laughter, fear, or a swoon. It's not like I'm particularly gifted in that area; I'm not Sherlock Holmes, I'm just...sociable. People are fascinating.

  What I want you to realize is that I'm not advocating humanism. I believe we live in a fallen world. I believe in original sin. I believe that people are inherently flawed and that the only way to heal the breach between ourselves and our Creator is to put ourselves under the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. And you know what...? Maybe that's why I find people so interesting. Maybe I'd rather study humans than birds and flowers and plants and saving the ocean because probably I'm not a people-watcher after all..probably I'm a soul-watcher. I am passionately curious about people because every single face on the street belongs to a soul that was specially created to play a particular part in the epic drama that is our history and future. I feel the stories and I want to know them. And more than I want to know them, I want to know that they are going on with me into eternity...and on the right side of the chasm at that. I want to know that these people realize they're part of the drama...and they have a particular choice to make.

     Social studies...evangelism...there's probably a way to combine those two things. I'd like to learn how. How do I overcome the remaining bits of my shyness and turn my curiosity to compassion? How do I reach into the reflective, smooth-running current of anonymous people-watching and help them untangle their souls without ruining any of the beautiful dignity? But maybe that's it again...maybe the beautiful dignity comes from the fact that they are souls that need untangling. Maybe dabbling my fingers in the pretties of the brook will only make it more beautiful, fuller, smoother...Fact is, I love people and the reason I love them is because He loves them. They're pieces of Him, birthed in His laughter and delight, desperately in need of the Rescuer. Image-bearers, all of us. Somehow, there's a way for me to be a liaison between heaven and earth...somewhere there's a gap I will slide into like the final tumbler in a Chinese puzzle-box. This post might not even make sense to a single blessed soul but me...and if that's the case, I won't apologize. Chalk it up to a lesson for you in studying people like me.

Social studies? Hrmph. Such a silly name for such a marvelous thing.

Thanks, Gents

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Dear Gentlemen,
      When you hear the word 'gentlemen', you probably shrink inside, thinking we expect you to be some huge Titan of gallantry or the archetype of good manners. Maybe we do appreciate that in a man, but today I just wanted to thank you. Some people think the race of gentlemen has died off. I can't agree entirely, because you are here. I wonder if you realize how much you effect me and many another girl just by being considerate, amiable, and genuine. Not all men are gentlemen, but when we women meet one, we know him for what he is immediately.
     Did you know we were that keen? Well, we are.
     I feel that good things cannot be commended enough, and fine men deserve as much recognition as the rakish fools who take up so much space in the news without having done anything worthy. So here's your little space of glory: here I want to tell you the things that you do right, and (coming from me), the things you do that make girls breathe again and think, 'There are real men in the world after all.' This is a letter for the gentlemen I know, and their kindred whom I have not had the blessing of meeting. These are the things you do (and are) that make me smile:

      I love when you laugh. I love when you make me laugh.

      I love your friendship--you don't know what a treasure it is, knowing young men who are actually interested in appreciating my soul, not what I can give them in exchange for a little attention.

      I love looking across a room when someone says something funny, and reading mutual hilarity in your eyes, and then laughing about it with you later.

      I love your sensibleness, and the way you guide conversations into useful courses that a girl might never have thought of, were we discussing the same topics.

      I love your useless bits of information that expand my intellect in ways I'd never looked for. (cannibal forks, anyone?)

      I love it when you open a door for me--I realize you know I could do it myself and I am thankful you do it anyway, just out of kindness. You're not being a Chauvinist, whatever people might say.

      I love it when you take time to talk to me and ask questions, like you really want to know what I think.

      I love it when you remember little things we discussed a long time ago and bring them back up when I least expect it.

      I love it when you have good handwriting.

      I love it when you offer to accompany me on errands I've been asked to run.

      I love it when you have massive pools of talent, but I have to find out from someone else (or personal observation) because you don't talk up your good points to impress me.

      I love when you've read the same books I have, or new ones that you make me read.

      I love when you disagree with me and make a good case for your side of a question.

      I love when you quote Shakespeare, or my favorite movies. (or Cabin Pressure. ;)

      I love when you admire plain women, because I know you're seeing the important side of them.
   
      I love it when you obviously have taken care with your appearance.
   
      I love it when you seem to have forgotten you are looking very sharp.

      I love it when you make little kids laugh, and laugh with them.

      I love it when you ask if you can dip me when we dance.

      I love it when you give a genuine compliment with no hint of flattery inside.

  These are only some of the things I see in you, my dear gentlemen. And perhaps the thing I am most blessed by is that moment that comes along periodically where you remind me of My Man--the man I probably have not met yet, but whom I can see will be one of you. So thanks, gentlemen. You really don't get enough notice from the world in general--I didn't want to stay silent when you're such a huge part of how I can remain a lady myself.

All of my best,
        Your sister,
                      Rachel Heffington
         
     

a bit of pixie-dust

There's a certain courage in walking through the grocery store speaking in your fake, BBC-groomed British accent. (Pssst! Everyone else thinks you're American--isn't that funny? ;)

There's a certain courage in wearing polka dots and red lipstick if you like it. Don't worry--everyone else will forget about it in a week. 

There's a certain courage in filling your diaphragm with air and belting out Broadway tunes...even if you don't hit all the notes. Who cares how it comes out? You still sound like Charlotte Church inside. :)

There's a certain courage in saying your true opinion of a subject...regardless of whether everyone else agrees. (You mean you don't think Thor's perfectly drop-dead-gorgeous?!!! What's wrong with you?!? ;)

There's a certain courage in walking about with brown hair. (while knowing you're a red-head at heart. ;)

There's a certain courage in quoting Shakespeare and Dickens and other great authors even when it's hopelessly outdated. (They can't blame you for being clever, you know.)

There's a certain courage in living life the way God meant you to and not worrying about what the world thinks. After all...who's going to be happier in the end?

There's a certain courage in proclaiming yourself a writer. Everyone else expects you to publish a book 3 months later. ;)

There's a certain courage in reminding yourself over and over you're a fabulous young woman worth waiting for. Because you are. The King of kings says. 

There's a certain courage in carrying yourself like a heroine. There's a mistake on your birth certificate. Your name is really Elizabeth Bennet. ;)

It's not disillusionment. It's imagination + truth + a little bit of pixie-dust.

The Beautiful Branding

We are called to love our brothers and sisters in Christ. We are called to lay down our lives for them as Christ has laid down His life for us. Most often we think of missionaries and martyrs when this topic comes up. After all, aren't they the ones day in and day out laying down their lives to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Yes, that is true. And I am so grateful for all these men and women who have been called to that capacity.

But sometimes laying down our lives is a bit more subtle. I have been thinking on this topic a lot recently, and even the sermon at church on Sunday tied in. (in a strange Rachel's Mind sort of way.:) The preacher spoke on the Great Commission in Matthew 28, and about how we are called to spread the love of Christ wherever we are. We can "go," "baptize,", and "teach," but the base-line of it all is that we share Christ with others. This is something I've been convicted of recently in my life. Through God's grace I try to live a life pleasing to Him. I try to be a good testimony through my blogs, and other places. But how many times have I personally shared the Gospel with someone?

I ask myself that question and my mind blanks out. Have I? Have I? Yes, I have spoken of Jesus to perfect strangers before, but I cannot bring to mind a time I've actually told someone the Gospel on my own, apart from any event where that was my mission. Just an everyday conversation with someone, telling them about the great Love that has saved me. It pains me to realize and confess that. True, some of it is because I've been blessed to live in and associate with a group of people who already love Jesus and I haven't had many opportunities to have in-depth conversations with unbelievers. But that isn't an excuse. I need to look for opportunities to share my Savior with others. How can I keep from singing this glorious news?

That was Part One of the thoughts going through my mind. But the other part was loosely connected and reverts back to laying down our lives for others. I went from thinking about telling others about Christ to living for Christ. This means sacrificing our will, our dreams, our comfort and giving it over to Jesus so that He can make it perfect and beautiful through our brokenness.

It happens in life, sometimes, that we feel the Lord's hand in a situation and we move forward and our hopes and dreams run ahead of us and suddenly we come up against a wall. The door is shut. There is no way through that wall for us. We turn around and see Jesus standing there behind us.

"Lord, why would You have me do this thing only to make me turn around and go back the way I came?"

That is the temptation. And yet do we stop and wonder if, perhaps, our walking that far along that path was a way we were laying down our lives for others? It could be. Have we told Christ that the only way He can use us is if things turn out the way we want them to? Are we willing to be used to minister to another, to help the Lord accomplish His plan in another's life even if it doesn't appear to benefit us? Even if it seems it might hurt us?

Because I know that Jesus has a plan for my life, for your life. And He will use those situations to mold and shape us further into His image. His mercies are sharp, but tender. His ways are narrow but so perfect. Are we willing to be marked with His plan? It is a beautiful branding, but a branding all the same, and it might sting at times. We might "get nothing" out of a situation, have to turn around and go home and start from scratch. But if we were being used by Christ, He was still in the details. He brought you forth and He will bring you home.

I don't mean to make Jesus seem to take pleasure in wounding us. No! But are we willing to love our brothers this way? In the laying down our life for a friend? It's a sharp question that demands a quick throb from the thorn of Love planted in our hearts. A sweet, broken pain that heals as it cuts....

"Oh, bless our God, you peoples!

And make the voice of His praise to be heard,

⁹ 

Who keeps our soul among the living,

And does not allow our feet to be moved.

¹⁰ 

For You, O God, have tested us;

You have refined us as silver is refined.

¹¹ 

You brought us into the net;

You laid affliction on our backs.

¹² 

You have caused men to ride over our heads;

We went through fire and through water;

But You brought us out to rich fulfillment."

~Psalm 66:8-12

Joy--do you dare?

"But I want you to know, brethren, that the things which happened to me have actually turned out for the furtherance of the gospel, so that it has become evident to the whole palace guard, and to all the rest, that my chains are in Christ; an most of the brethren in the Lord, having become confident by my chains, are much more bold to speak the word without fear." Philippians 1:12-14

Dad preached on this first chapter of Philippians in church on Sunday. My mind--which has a fearful habit of wandering--fixed upon these verses and stayed there while the rest of the universe whirled on. I am afraid I was not even thinking very hard upon the rest of the chapter, for I had my share of the sermon in these two verses.

I began thinking of Paul. He was thrown into prison, beaten, mocked, etc. and yet his attitude in these verses is not:

 "Poor me--look at what you might have to suffer for Christ!" 

= But =

"This is awesome! I want you to know that this is the epitome of my ministry! This is why I follow Christ."

Soon that thought was followed by another. How effective would Paul's ministry have been if, instead of this outlook, Paul had sulked? The letter to the Philippians might not have even been written if Paul decided to "have a reality check" and dwell in how he perceived the situation. In a way, the effectiveness of Paul's ministry depended upon his attitude. It was indeed Paul who said "To live is Christ, to die is gain," and yet I think too often martyrs of the faith have a "See me and be filled with holy dread" aura about them. Paul was cheerful in his chains. And because of that his ministry was far greater than he could have imagined!

To apply this to my own life, I thought back on last year--it was a difficult year, full of the strain and stress of starting up a naturally-grown produce farm/flowers/bakery. I'm not saying it wasn't a good year, but it was certainly a trial. And I am ashamed (and yet want to be truthful) to admit that I sulked. I sulked nearly all year. Not outwardly [most of the time] but in my heart of hearts I was being an ox--a beast that did not like what was going on and did not want to be in an uncomfortable spot and could not wait till it was all over. It was not just me that realized it was hard...in the past months when friends have asked if we are doing the same thing again this year, their questions have been tempered with remarks such as:

"Yeah...it sounded pretty stressful."

"Yes, I could tell it was a hard year for all of you."

Eeesh. Was it that obvious? Oh dear. I learned a lot and grew a lot over the year, and by the autumn my attitude was changing. But as we read these verses in church on Sunday, I couldn't help but wonder how much more I could have learned and how much more ministry I could have had if I had had a cheerful, submissive heart over it all. Paul's reaction to imprisonment was an inspiration to me--having a cheerful heart and playing Pollyanna are all very good things to talk about in theory, but when the nitty-gritty moments come, are we letting Jesus have his way with us? Are we accepting it all with joyful hearts, truly knowing that something beautiful will rise out of the ashes of the situation?

This skill can be applied to so many areas of life. I think of Sarah Mally, author of Before You Meet Prince Charming. (A fabulous book for younger teen girls)

Sarah, Stephen, and Grace Mally)

She is 30 years old and still unmarried, yet because Sarah has been faithful to the Lord during her single years and has lived them joyfully and fully, she has become a role-model for hundreds of young women across the nation and around the world. If Sarah had decided to bemoan her lot and sit with her hands folded until a guy came and swept her off her feet, I can imagine she'd be a bitter, lonely old maid. But the term "old-maid" could no more be applied to Sarah Mally than it could be applied to a mother with a dozen children. Being an "old-maid" is a state of the heart--not the circumstance. But I digress.

In short, I was just struck by the idea that the effectiveness of our ministry is, in some measure, inversely proportional to our attitude through-out the trial. What are your thoughts on it? :)

Dreamy Snippets

There's a certain precious impossibility in dreams that make them almost twice as valuable if they don't come true.

When the snow melts the morning after it falls I always feel like it's apologizing and creeping away..too bad it thinks it's unwanted!

 

When I hear a piece of music and get chills, I know I must be an instrument-less musician at heart.

There is always someone better than you in whatever field you choose...it's comforting really, knowing you've not yet reached a dizzying height.

 

There is no use in reading for reading's sake. But when you open a book and your heart is drawn in...let yourself read till your eyes refuse to take another word more.

A letter sent through the post is far more worthwhile than a letter sent online--it could be the same letter, but a stamp and an envelope and that devil-may-care attitude a travel-worn letter has is priceless. Keep the P.O. in business!

No matter what anyone says, Winnie-the-Pooh books are for adults. Read them today and laugh your head off.

Rubber boots are the number one must have for a country-girl...hmmm...Then why am I bootless right now?

Your dear Someone can have no ill manners, no vexing habits, no petty faults until you meet him... :D