Peace

How is it that the season we claim should bring such peace seems some years to deliver instead exhaustion and unrest? This year in particular I find myself checking the calendar for "the next thing," and looking ahead to my husband's time off from work with more than the usual enthusiasm. Anyone else hoping for a blizzard?

Growing up in Iowa, I well recall the hopeful huddling by the radio on frosty, blustering mornings, waiting for THE LIST of school closings, hoping beyond hope that ours would be there.  Iowans don't shut down for the average winter storm, people. Some years, however, it happened--that awesome, exciting moment when our school was mentioned on THE LIST. Unbelievable relief and joy flooded our faces and minds. Snow day! Who could have believed it?! Today was THE day!

We stayed in our pajamas, shut down all the vents upstairs and brought our sleeping bags and mattresses down to the living room near the wood burning stove.  We played games and ate snacks. We read books and listened to records. We built forts and wrestled. Boredom eventually drove us into our snowsuits and out into the cold to go sledding. Or even shoveling the driveway. Again. If the power stayed on we watched a movie or cartoons.

The whole world around us seemed to melt into whiteness. It was just us in our little town, venturing out to our nearest neighbors, making homemade ice cream with the new snow.  For just a little while, no cars sauntered by, no telephones rang.  Peace.

Peace.

The sound of snow falling on sandbox hills.

Peace.

This year in particular, while finding such beauty in the lights and music, I look inside and wonder--where is that peace? Will a cleared calendar really produce peace? Will my husband home for 10 days (whoohoo!) really create peace? (well, it won't hurt, folks!). Will finally getting the last present bought and wrapped in time bring about that perfect inner peace?

Hate to break it to you...or maybe you've been holding your tongue waiting to tell me...it won't. None of it will.

This is one of those questions already answered. Jesus is my peace. He Himself is our peace (Ephesians 2:14).  The lyrics below came to me swiftly earlier this month after a Christmas dinner with friends. Someone mentioned the verse just quoted, and all the way home the words turned in my mind like some brightly colored ornament. "He Himself is our peace."

Peace

He Himself is our peace

He Himself is our peace

Though wind and wave increase,

Jesus is our peace

On a cross upon a hill

Hammers rang and hearts were still

Christ overcame Death’s dark will

Now He is our peace.

Won’t you come and join us now

Low in great cathedrals bow,

Or in forest, field or town—

He is still our peace

He Himself is our peace

He Himself is our peace

Though wind and wave increase,

Jesus is our peace

Fiery trial or crushing pain

Sharp temptation, thorny way

Through each loss or failure, say,

“Jesus is my peace!”

Christ alone will see you through

All His words are grace and truth

Faithful Shepherd, Savior, too,

He will be your peace.

He Himself is our peace

He Himself is our peace

Someday all storms shall cease

Jesus is our peace

Someday all storms shall cease

And all will be at peace.

Whatever your schedule looks like this December, I pray that, together, we will look into history to a baby and a manger, a cross and an empty tomb, and then into the future, when there will be no end to His Kingdom. And He shall reign forevermore. In Peace.

Stonehenge

 It was a perfect day for great conquests. We set off across the creek into our yard's wild side, chore boots, stained jeans, long sleeves to protect us from those insidious thorns.

It smelled like the first true autumn day: crisp. Light. Almost sharp. Exhilarating. What better day than this to build our Stonehenge.

I watched the kids work through planning phase, gathering phase, construction phase.

 One site seemed to require more forethought than the other, but I'm not judging.

The point was attempt to think through the process of this ancient task. How did they measure this huge and almost perfect circle back then without lasers or satellites? How did they move such gargantuan stones from over 300 miles away? What incredible significance did this site hold for these people? Why would they bother?


And my favorite question....drum roll, please....What does God want us  to learn from this structure?  

What are you building day after day? What will your sweat, tears, ambitions bring to fruition?  I have to ask myself: when I am gone and someone sorts through my sky line of life-efforts, will they be able to make sense of what they find? Will it show something of the amazing grace and mercy of an all-powerful Creator in my life?

To quote a line from a popular Christian song: "I'd be building my kingdom, just to watch it fade away. It's so true: that's me without You."  One day the only Kingdom that is any kingdom at all will truly come, eclipsing all others.  Every monument to man's greatness will crumble to dust, "but the Word of the Lord stands forever" (1 Peter 1:25).

My Jour(His story)ney

Recently I had the terrifying privilege of sharing some of my life's faith journey with a group of homeschooling moms.  For weeks I pondered over events and people from the past, wondering exactly what it was I needed to share. I prayed. I scribbled notes. I looked at pictures in photo albums.  I made lists and then scratched things off the lists. I bit my fingernails.

I was a mess.

Who really, seriously, needed or wanted to hear anything about my life? Why couldn't we just focus on the here and now and read a meaningful passage from, say, the Gospel of John, applying it to our daily lives? That would definitely be more beneficial than some timeline. What was the big deal, anyway?

Ah, that was the question...what was the big deal? Why was I so anxious and resistant? Why was this so hard?

I was afraid. Of exposure. Of rejection. Of others' opinions. Of sharing the ways I desperately needed Christ's redeeming grace and mercy.  Of shame. 

Then that still small Voice broke through my self-absorption. "You are not your own, you are bought with a price."  This journey, my journey, wasn't really about me. It was about Him! When Christ forgave my sin and rescued me from the kingdom of darkness, He bought the publishing rights to all of me. My whole life belongs to Him--future, present and past. It wasn't my story after all. It was His!

There was another thought gnawing at the edges of my mind. I have an enemy that doesn't want word to get out about Christ's powerful love and grace at work in my life. He loves nothing better than the mask, the polite nothings, the fear of discovery. That enemy is Satan. He knows the power of one life. He will never forget that day when one Life laid itself down on a cross, only to rise again to the salvation of millions! How he hates the one life. Suddenly I realized the source of my fear and anxiety, and I was not bowing to it!

I was still a mess, but I was an obedient mess. I would go and share, and trust my Savior to make His Name great. It was up to Him. After all, He started it.

And then the night was over. The tangled mess of anxiety melted in His presence. If He had some purpose for this night, so be it. Some shared that same night how God had touched them. In my mind, I sat back and admired His perfect handiwork. He wastes nothing, He loves each one, He knows every story.

Maybe it's time you let Him share yours....

Today is a gift.

We are just hours away from embarking on our semi-annual Groothuis family reunion. Out of 41 people, 12 of them will be adults. Out-numbered, but not out-maneuvered! It's going to be a blast! We're leaving at 12:30 a.m. It just makes sense that I would be typing now at 10:30  instead of sleeping, yes? That's how I am just before a big road trip--jazzed, wired, ready to GO, but wanting a nap at the same time. 

The van is packed, and, amazingly enough, there is room to spare. The snacks are ready, the neighbors are prepped should an emergency with our house arise. We have a full tank of gas. We have caffeine. We are set.

I have to admit, this has been one of the craziest weeks our house has seen for some time. Every day there've been appointments, home school group preparations, lots of checklists of responsibilities, oh, and supper. Laundry. Cleaning. Packing list. Packing bags. Re-packing the kids' bags--a case of Dad expectations vs. Mom expectations. Prayer needs, planning needs, neighbor needs, friend needs, family needs. Likely for most of you reading this, that aforementioned list is par for the course. For me, it was....interesting. The Lord was giving me ample opportunity to lean into Him. Sometimes I did. And sometimes I didn't.

But here we are. Somehow all ready to go. Trent is an amazing van packing man! I love that man. As I'm winding down for my pre-trip nap, I'm smiling in memory of something two of my boys created all by themselves this week. They were eating lunch on our back porch, just relaxing. Then they called me out to hear this:

Just a reminder to me that along with time itself, my family is moving along, growing up, while I am growing older. That's reality, not pessimism. I'm excited to know my Savior more, and every day He gifts to me, He is also pulling me closer to Home, to His arms. So I plan to make the most of this day. At this point, that might mean catching that nap.

Thank You, Heavenly Father, for keeping track of our days, bringing us safely Home to You, and blessing us so richly along the road.

Good night, all!

Coffee Shop Fellowship

Tonight I'm just back home after a refreshing time out for coffee with a friend.

We wondered if we are doing enough to prepare our children for life "out there." We pondered the mercy and patience of God as we explored the path our country seems to be taking. We shared some journeyings from the past and the amazing love and grace of God Who brought redemption. We found out some hard things that one can only share with caution, and even then with some trepidation. We prayed. We connected.

We chose openness.

We chose to be known.

When was the last time you chose openness? When was the last time you prayed with someone? Out loud?

Who knows you?

I realize that's a large question. Lots of people know me, you might be saying as you read this. True. People know us in layers and circles. Generally, people know what we want them to know. On the odd occasion, I meet someone who seems to just see right into me. It's eerie. It's unsettling. It's somehow satisfying. While there are many things I am glad you haven't collected in your fact file about me, I was made to be known. God created me for connection. He did the same for you.

Last time I wrote about catching someone's ribbon and holding on. Tonight I'm thinking about being a ribbon-caster. Am I throwing my ribbon out to the person God brings across my path? Or am I hoarding it for the sake of self-preservation? By all means, be discerning, but also, be brave.

Maybe it's time for some coffee shop fellowship. Maybe it's time you asked the Lord to connect you with someone from His family you need to know. Maybe it's time you chose openness.

Psalm 51:6
Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.

Ribbons and Shards

Lately I've been having conversations with people around all kinds of difficult topics in their lives: struggling marriages, issues with kids, pieces of the past that keep popping up out of nowhere, anger, hurt, bitterness, illness, death.  Quite a list.

I'm thankful for those who are brave enough to share from their hearts. It reminds me how desperately we need to be known as well as to know others. A community weaves together through the ups and downs, highs and lows. Its strength is in its truth.  Some communities have an impressive tapestry of connections, but no strength to withstand a tempest.

Just a few days ago during our VBS parent night, each small group created its own web of ribbon while the teachers read about Phillip and the Ethiopian from the book of Acts in the bible. Every time a different speaker read, the person holding the ball of ribbon grabbed hold of the line and threw the ball to someone who didn't have any yet. By the end of the reading, everyone was holding onto the ribbon, forming a colorful interweaving between each member.

The point of that activity was to demonstrate how God weaves our lives together at just the right time and in just the right way to fulfill His perfect purposes in us. Thinking back over the conversations I mentioned earlier, I realize that each time someone shares their heart with me, they are throwing me the ribbon. Am I grabbing hold? Am I interceding in prayer? Am I taking their need to heart? Or am I just passing it on to the next open hand, hoping that person will have the love, the courage, the grace to step up?

Here's where I have to admit that at times I have dropped the ribbon. I have missed out on community. I have missed out on the privilege to connect with a sister or brother in Christ who needed His Truth in a situation. I've missed out on God's blessing.

Sometimes I don't want to pass the ribbon.  I don't want to be the one sharing. That's need. Not comfortable. Not easy. Not palatable.

The good news is that our God never gives up. His patient persistence outlasts my resistance.  First Corinthians 12:18 states that "God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as He chose" (ESV).  That's the challenge. Be where He placed me. Be present. Be alert. Be real.

Be real.  He is real.

A little over a month ago, while thinking of some tough situations, I wrote these words:

Broken People

We are broken, broken people

Praising God beneath the steeple.

We are broken, broken people in God’s hand.

We are broken, broken people

Serving God beneath the steeple.

We are broken,  broken people in God’s hand.

But if we’re broken

Then we’re fixable

And shards make great mosaics

People recognize His grace among the pieces.

If we’re broken

Then our bragging rights

Smash against His Holy Light

And we recognize He’ll place us

Where He pleases.

We are broken, but we’re His,

Because of Jesus.

Thankfully there’ll come a day

When our brokenness is swept away

Thankfully there’ll come a day

We’re free.

And we’ll look into that Holy Light

 Of the One once broken for our kind

And He’ll say, “My broken child,

You are whole—come Home with Me!”

And if we’re broken

Then we’re fixable

And shards make great mosaics.

People recognize His grace among the pieces.

If we’re broken

Then our bragging rights

Smash against His Holy Light

And we recognize He’ll place us

Where He pleases.

We are broken, but we’re His,

Because of Jesus.

Just Another Day?

June 5, 2000. For those in Sumatra, it was tragic as a deadly earthquake rocked the land. For others, this was just another day in a new millennium. Same cereal for breakfast, same TV show after dinner.

For those of us in Tempe, Arizona, it was hot. One hundred eleven degrees. Yes, you read it correctly, 111 degrees.  For a man named Trent and a woman named Bridget (that's me, folks), it was a dream come true--our wedding day.  The sun rose like any other day, warm and bright. But this day, this day was different.

I sat by the pool and spent time with my Lord in close conversation. He-Who-Never-Changes would walk me from one name to another. He assured me that morning that He would stay the same no matter what. And He was giving me the man of my dreams for real. I just knew everything was going to be wonderful.

And pretty much everything was wonderful. Oh, there was the usual: a bridesmaid "whoops, I forgot to bring the ring for pre-wedding photos!" moment; 111-degree heat stroke hovering at our shoulders for the lengthy outdoor pictures (which turned out beautifully); the tape player that chose to run at its own pace and warp the music for our grand entrance; the groomsmen who made last minute changes to the steps we were to walk up--without telling us.

There was also the incredible blessing of so many smiling faces starting us off on the first day of the rest of our lives. All that previous year Trent and I said we wanted our wedding to be Simple, Elegant, and Enjoyable.  The Lord definitely brought that about for us. Thanks to our parents for all of their love and support, and especially to my mom for the many last-minute decisions made to keep things running smoothly!

Thirteen years now walk beside us.  Each year shows its crowning glories and sound defeats. These are the mile markers we pass by again and again, reminding us of our own great fallibility and His own great love.  These are the proofs of faith and trust. These are the foundation stones of a legacy.

June 5, 2013.  Just another day? Perhaps. For Trent and Bridget Groothuis, this day is a gift.