THE Must-Have Gift List

So, what’s on your holiday wish list?

Me… I’ve been eyeing a pair of black suede boots and an antique birdbath.

(What can I say… I’m a Vanity Fair-meets-Southern Living kinda gal these days.)

As much as I’d love for Santa Baby (ok, Steve) to slip these gifts under the tree – for me – I realize at some point the boots’ll wear out and my feathered friends will crap all over that beautiful birdbath.

And you know what? When I close my eyes at the end of a rough day (or the middle of a crisis), it’s not boots or birdbaths that I want.

What I must have is…

Hope.

Comfort.

Clarity.

Safety… security… serenity.

Peace.

And some tender loving care. (The kind that won’t quit.)

Aren’t those the gifts we all want? All 8 billion of us?

What if I told you they could be yours? Guaranteed delivery. What if I told you there’s a prince waiting to bestow everything your soul longs for.

A Prince… of Peace.

A Protector. Comforter. Counselor. Listener. Lover.

He’s ready/waiting/willing/able to give you what you ache to have.

Himself.

It’s Jesus we’re desperate for.

He is the gift.

But there’s a catch. Neither you nor I can receive him… until we open our hearts wide and bare our souls. And tragically, most of us won’t ever do that.

Unless… until… we realize how desperate we really are.

Most of us are pretty obtuse. We don’t even realize we need Jesus in the first place. But even those of us who do, we rarely want to admit that our self-sufficiency is… well… insufficient.

(It’s called foolish pride for a reason.)

Not to mention the fact that without him, we remain unforgiven… beholden to our failures and faults, riddled with guilt and shame.

I’ve got my share, that’s for sure:

I’m selfish.

Stubborn.

Lazy at times.

I jockey for position and play favorites.

I indulge my pride with self-pity… or a runaway sense of entitlement.

(Just scratching the surface here.)

If I dig deeper, I uncover…

I’m weak-willed, short-sighted, much-afraid.

I interrupt and interfere. I try to control things – and people! – far beyond my reach and resources (a limited perspective and lack of power, for starters).

But the beautiful thing (beneath all that muck and mire) is that I know it.

I know myself.

And self-awareness is a precious commodity. Because it can lead straight to contrition.

(That’s the part where I own it.)

And contrition can lead straight to confession.

(That’s when I admit it.)

If I choose not to duck/dodge/deflect blame for my own s&*t.

God knows it all anyway. So I may as well unburden myself.

Plead guilty, if you will.

(And breathe a huge sigh of relief.)

Exhale guilt and shame; inhale mercy and grace.

Come clean… and come near.

That’s the invitation of Christmas.

To gaze up at the heavens and turn your heart toward the One who created them… and you.

He knows all about you – the good, the bad, the ugly. And here’s the really crazy thing:

He adores you.

No, really.

And nothing you’ve ever done – or will do – changes that.

How can it be? That our God, our Gift, can see us so clearly… and love us with such unflinching devotion?

It’s inexplicable.

A Christmas miracle.

And now – this year, this day, here and now – it’s our turn. To come clean and come near.

Open your heart wide, bare your soul, believe.

By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of… Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise. ~ Romans 5:1-2 (The Message)

Oh, come let us adore him.

Wendy

The Unthinkable

Remember that one time… when you did that?

No matter how firmly you’ve refused to look back, how far you’ve travelled, how long ago it was…

It still remains.

The stain.

The shame.

That god-awful pit in your stomach.

Maybe you freaked out… or blacked out… or gave in.

Maybe you stumbled into something once upon a time. And now it’s a habit you can’t seem to kick.

Maybe you used someone and then discarded them like week-old leftovers.

Maybe you severed a friendship or family tie. Maybe you terminated a marriage or a pregnancy… and it haunts you.

Maybe your fears (and that fierce protective instinct) took a wrong turn. What you meant to be caring became critical, condescending, controlling.

Maybe your rage inflicted untold damage on another soul. (Or several.)

Maybe you neglected someone who really needed you.

Or abandoned God.

(Because he’s the only one who knows the truth about your backstory.)

Perhaps it wasn’t one horrendous mistake. But rather a whole mess of missteps and lousy decisions… that led you to this.

This brokenness. This barrenness.

You can’t stop eating/drinking/popping pills/watching porn. (You know you can’t quit it ’cause you’ve tried. Countless times.)

Maybe you lost your way… and your life isn’t even recognizable anymore.

Maybe your lies or debts or damaged relationships are stacked so high you can’t see around them.

Or you’re stoking a flame of revenge… and now it’s threatening to incinerate you.

Okay… okay… maybe I’ve got it all wrong.

Your problem isn’t something you did; it’s something someone did to you.

The unthinkable.

It left you gutted, grief-stricken, half-dead. Your heart battered beyond recognition.

Hear this now…

It wasn’t your fault.

(Full stop.)

You didn’t deserve it.

(No one does.)

But maybe – in the awful aftermath of that unthinkable evil – you did whatever you thought might ease (annihilate) your pain and the unbidden shame.

Booze, blades, blasphemy, bitterness.

Binging… whatever. Bedding… whomever.

But it turns out you weren’t erasing the trauma at all. You were just erasing yourself.

And making things worse.

Here’s the truth about the unthinkable. It can’t be evaded. Or escaped.

It can’t be undone.

But justice will be done.

Someday.

See, the story isn’t over yet.

God is full of love and mercy, yes. But he is holy too. (Contrary to popular belief, these aren’t mutually exclusive.)

Justice matters to God, and he judges rightly, perfectly, powerfully, exactingly.

One day – soon I imagine – he will.

All rise!

We will all stand before the Judge. And when we do, we’ll find…

We’re all guilty.

Our offenders.

And us, too.

Everyone has sinned. No one measures up to God’s glory. ~ Romans 3:23 (NIRV)

(Don’t we know it.)

Let’s say someone saw everything we’ve ever done… from every angle. Knew every detail, read every thought, examined our every intention and reaction.

(Your heart racing yet? Yeah, mine too.)

But then he did something altogether unexpected… almost unbelievable.

He stepped in.

To both mete out justice… and bear the brunt of it.

It was the only way goodness and grace, mercy and justice, holiness and wholeness could be accomplished.

It was the only way love would win.

The truth is, we all need saving.

And apparently God thought you and I were worth it.

So Jesus surrendered himself.

Sacrificed his life.

Said…

It is finished.

And buried the unthinkable.

When the sun rose on the third day, the Son rose too.

Believe it, friend.

Pour out your heart – the whole story, every bit of it – and unburden yourself. And Jesus will render all your regret and shame and sorrow powerless against you.

On God my salvation and my glory rest; He is my rock of [unyielding] strength, my refuge is in God.

Trust [confidently] in Him at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before Him.
God is a refuge for us. ~ Psalm 62:7-8 (AMP)

The offer still stands.

Refuge.

Relief.

Freedom.

From the unthinkable, unbearable, ugliest and worst.

Turns out, our only hope is… a sure one.

All who call out to the Lord will be saved. ~ Romans 10:13 (CEV)

All.

(No exceptions, exclusions or prerequisites.)

Jesus loves you more than you could ever imagine. And he’s ready to rescue.

What are you waiting for?

Wendy

P.S. Come as you are.

There’s hope for the hopeless
And all those who’ve strayed.
Come sit at the table,
Come taste the grace.
There’s rest for the weary,
Rest that endures.
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t cure.

So lay down your burdens,
Lay down your shame.
All who are broken
Lift up your face.
Oh wanderer, come home;
You're not too far.
Lay down your hurt, lay down your heart.
Come as you are. (Crowder)

Almost Friday…

You’ve seen those memes, right?

With images of clinging koalas/dancing ferrets/fist-pumping babies… or (my personal favorite):

Lionel Richie wearing a smile and a “Friday” nametag… and sporting a caption that reads:

Hello… is it me you’re looking for?

Almost Friday means… you’re about to get a breather, a break, a blessed respite from the drudgery of the daily grind. Almost Friday signals stress relief… freedom!… sweet celebration.

We get 52 Fridays included with every trip around the sun.

(Pretty great.)

So if you’ve had a rough week, chin up. Soon the dismal/ dreadful/ disappointing/ disastrous events of the last few days will be in the rearview mirror… and everything above the dashboard will be looking oh-so-bright and beautiful.

If you’ve had a rough year (or life), take heart.

Because tomorrow isn’t just any Friday.

It’s guaranteed…

Good.

Tomorrow marks the most beguiling/ bewildering/ bewitching day in all of human history. That single, life-changing, earth-shaking Friday was both celestial and cataclysmic.

Heavenly and horrifying.

Divine and deadly.

(It was unthinkably brutal… bloody… barbaric, really.)

And yet we call it Good.

Why?

Because it harkens back, looks forward, and wraps up in the present all the best things in life:

Debts cancelled.

Evil overcome.

Mercy sprinkled.

Injustice overturned.

Sins forgiven. (Even the ugliest and worst.)

Grace gifted.

Death defeated, once and for all… for all who dare to believe. (That Jesus is who he said he is. And did what he said he would. And will do all he’s promised.)

The hero prevails.

The villain slinks back into the shadows.

And every one of us who’s desperate to be cherished… knows… now… and forever… we are.

The One who embodies love… offered up his body.

The One who loves us to death… died.

The One who breathes life itself… breathed his last. For you and me.

Because love compelled him to.

Jesus.

Loves.

You.

It’s not a fearful, flimsy love. It’s fierce, firm. It’s not fleeting.

It’s forever.

It’s the stuff of dreams-come-true and happily-ever-after… but it is not a fairy tale.

Real love isn’t the story arc of a two-hour rom-com. It sticks around a whole lot longer. (And it’s far more practical, capable, durable, valuable than anything Hollywood could dream up.)

Real love looks closely, tenderly. And it overlooks.

It listens carefully and hears – between, beneath, beyond – what’s spoken out loud.

Real love has grit, strength, steely resolve.

And it (eventually, always) requires sacrifice.

Selflessness.

It gets its hands dirty… pulls up out of the muck… or sits weeping together in it.

It’s the kind of love that’s willing to lay it all down.

Even when the beloved is unlovely.

Unworthy.

Ungrateful.

(Like me.)

Now, would anyone dare to die for the sake of a wicked person?  We can all understand if someone was willing to die for a truly noble person. But Christ proved God’s passionate love for us by dying in our place while we were still lost and ungodly!

And there is still much more to say of his unfailing love for us!  ~ Romans 5:7-9 (TPT)

Real love will bear the worst, believe the best, wait expectantly when everything in sight tells it to abandon hope… and endure beyond the bitter end…

Anticipating a fresh new beginning.

That kind of lay-down-your-life love is a force. It has resurrection power. It breathes life into dead things.

Dreams.

Relationships.

Futures.

Forever afters.

So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture…

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us. ~ Romans 8:31-39 (The Message)

The human mind can scarcely comprehend that kind of love.

It’s inexplicable.

Unsurpassable.

Flawless.

And… finished.

Yes, friend.

It.

Is.

Finished.

Ready, waiting, yours for the asking.

I know… because I’m the blessed recipient of that kind of crazy love. And I pray that you are – or will be (today?) – too.

We want all sorts of things in life. But what we need isn’t something. It’s someone. And when we look for him and find him, we gain everything.

Looking for truth? A way through? The meaning of life? Jesus really is…

All that.

He’s the one you’re looking for. (It’s been him all along.)

Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me. ~ John 14:6 (NLT)

A Father’s love, a Son’s obedience, a sinner’s pardon.

Relief… freedom!… and sweet celebration.

That’s what Good Friday looks like.

T.G.I.F.

Wendy

P.S. Sunday’s coming. Tomb’s empty. Love wins.

The Mother Lode

Today is all about the mommas.

And that’s a good thing. Because if you’re a mom (young, old, or somewhere in the bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, daunting, desperate middle) pretty much all the other days are about… well… everybody else.

*********************************************************************************** Now I realize that Mother’s Day isn’t happy for everyone. (Because… grief, infertility, abuse, abandonment, addiction, estrangement.) And I don’t want to just blow past all that pain and suffering, because I know some of you can’t either.

I see your bruised and broken hearts. I do. And I pray somehow, some way, sometime very soon God’s grace and peace will find you… and hold you. Close.

************************************************************************************

Mother’s Day may feel like a hassle, chore, or cheesy Hallmark holiday to you. But if you’ve been gifted with a loving mother, this day is cause for celebration.

(Go ahead, make her day.)

In recognition of the most excellent (exhausting/exciting/ excruciating/exhilirating) job on earth, here’s my (loosely adapted and wildly re-imagined) take on the “best mom ever” as described in Proverbs 31:

Do you have any clue how tough it is to find a woman who’ll become an incredible partner and amazing momma? Young bucks, you’re far better off spending your time looking for her IRL, than scrolling/snapping/swiping night and day. Find and invest in a true gem, rather than a gadget, guitar, truck or car. You won’t regret it.

If you make a good match, you’ll have a lifelong lover, trustworthy advisor, fierce warrior and tender comforter by your side. She’ll bring blessing upon blessing. And one day, you’ll realize how rich you truly are. Because your woman will look out for you in ways you can’t imagine. She’ll make your house a home, your home a haven, and your heart (genuinely) happy.

Ever after.

She’ll be a helping hand, hard worker, wise investor, bargain hunter. Maybe a natural athlete or artist, savvy businesswoman, teacher or techie, master gardener or gourmet, gifted fashion designer, fisherwoman or physician, accomplished musician or mechanical engineer, brilliant architect/actuary/ author/astronaut. Or maybe she’ll simply make every day brighter, lighter, more festive and fun… because she’s a breath of fresh JOY. But whatever her talents and training, her teamwork will complement, hone and heighten yours. In short, she’ll make you a better man.

That’s the kind of woman you want by your side… for the adventure of a lifetime.

She’ll be captivating, no doubt. But it won’t be a bunch of razzle dazzle and designer dresses and photo filters and false eyelashes. (Charm is deceptive, aging is inevitable, and soap – and real life – have a way of washing away the razzle. And the dazzle too.) It’ll be true grit and amazing grace and a little bit of divine glory that shine in her… and enchant you.

A true beauty will be luminous and lovely… because her soul is.

She’ll be resourceful, resilient and relentlessly hopeful. Even in the daily grind.

Even in the worst of times.

(Like 2020… or ’21.)

She may be battle-weary but she’ll soldier on. She may be covered in spit-up and Paw Patrol stickers… but that won’t dim her outlook or her smile. She may have to endure an entire school year of zoom rooms and online instruction, but she won’t stop teaching, learning, coaching. (Not even remotely.)

When the chips are down and the going gets rough, she’ll be tough, tender, true blue.

She’ll show compassion to friends and strangers alike. She’ll be generous and conscientious and confident and capable. So much so that at some point you might wonder if she really needs you at all. Don’t worry; she will. Because you’ll be the one holding her heart for safekeeping. (Careful there, pal.)

All the guys in the office, on the field, at the course will know and respect you. (And she’ll deserve a fair amount of credit for that.)

She’ll be kind, brave and wonder-full.

She’ll possess a sharp mind, a good sense of humor, and a wealth of sound advice. (If you’re smart, you’ll be humble enough to take it… and appreciate it.)

She’ll be a natural at nurturing and a pro at problem-solving. Again and again, you and your children will benefit from her foresight, fortitude, forgiveness and faith.

And you’ll give her props for all of the above. 

(‘Cause she deserves it.)

Pretty tall order. Truth be told, there isn’t a mother in the history of humankind who’s nailed it. Not even close. (So… moms, toss the inferiority complex. It’s not your color.)

But if your mom even vaguely resembles this maternal force of nature, you have every reason to be grateful. Today and every other day of the year, too.

If you got a gem (by birth, adoption or divine intervention), you hit the mother lode.

And if you’ve yet to find that elusive, exquisite – and affordable – Mother’s Day gift, I’m here for you. Here’s what Mom really wants.

You’re welcome.

(And blessed.)

Wendy

Postscript to Z, M, J and T: It’s true what they say. A good woman is hard to find.

Pray for her. Wait for her. And get busy making yourself worthy of her.

(I trust you will.)

xoxo

Influencers and Followers

Influencers.

That’s what we call people who use their social media as a pipeline for public adoration… and cash.

In the world of Insta/Twitter/Tok…

Influence = affluence.

(Ask Halsey.)

Seems like everyone’s building a platform these days. It’s all about branding, creating a media presence, carefully crafting an image.

And then merchandising the heck out of it all.

Sometimes it happens by accident. Somebody posts something amusing/ intriguing/appalling… and watches awestruck as it takes social media by storm. A couple hundred likes/comments/shares turns into 470K overnight. It’s a middle school math lesson on exponents.

Also known as… going viral.

(Rather ironic since we’ve spent the past year trying to battle a deadly one.)

Anyway, I’m not denouncing social media. Like so many things, it’s simply a tool. Like a hammer, it can be used constructively or destructively. (Wielder’s choice.)

I just want to point out that it’s better to build a life… than a platform.

Platforms can be deceiving, especially when someone says something (on-camera/post/podcast) and does another (off).

Platforms can be dangerous too. They can undermine honesty/integrity/ transparency… and wreak havoc on inner peace. Especially when they become a higher priority than people. 

Things that are raised up can come crashing down.

What soars sometimes gets shot out of the sky.

Take Jesus, for example. Crowds gathered. People fawned. He was hailed as “the One” (think Neo in the “The Matrix” only without the black leather and dark glasses) – astounding onlookers and garnering adoration. Throngs cheered and lauded and clamored, desperate to crown him King.

Then he was “lifted up.” And it killed Him.

But (shockingly, thankfully) He didn’t stay dead. 

I truly believe that. ^

I don’t think it’s fake news… or a fairytale circulated by first-century religious hucksters.

There’s a record of it… eyewitnesses… evidence…

Scrolls. (The parchment kind, not the finger-on-phone kind.)

The problem is, I can’t prove it. That’s why it’s called:

Faith.

Unless Christ was raised to life, your faith is useless, and you are still living in your sins. And those people who died after putting their faith in him are completely lost.  If our hope in Christ is good only for this life, we are worse off than anyone else.

But Christ has been raised to life! And he makes us certain that others will also be raised to life.  Just as we will die because of Adam, we will be raised to life because of Christ. Adam brought death to all of us, and Christ will bring life to all of us. (1 Corinthians 15:17-22, CEV)

Here’s the thing about Jesus. Either he is who he said he is… and did what he said he did. Or not. (There’s no third option. No “well, I think he was a nice guy/great teacher/brilliant philosopher/selfless humanitarian.” He’s either bold-faced liar… or he embodies Truth. Either a certifiable loon, long dead… or the eternal, almighty God.)

And those of us who follow him?

We’re either destined for untold glory… or the most pitiful fools of all.

All I know is this: I’ve had an incurable case of wanderlust for as long as I can remember. An ache for someplace else, somewhere heavenly. I’ve been running headlong toward ever-after my whole life.

I’m chasing glory. 

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that we were made for another world.” (C.S. Lewis)

The reason so many of us scramble to make a name/build a brand/handcraft success for ourselves… and then come up short (or – perhaps worse – achieve all we hoped and wonder why it isn’t enough)? The reason we struggle to find contentment… or peace on earth?

Because we weren’t made for this short, hard, hurt-filled life. We were made for an everlasting, pain-free, perfect one.

The trouble is… we see all the world’s shiny things… and we want them.

Now.

What is the cause of your conflicts and quarrels with each other? Doesn’t the battle begin inside of you as you fight to have your own way and fulfill your own desires?  You jealously want what others have so you begin to see yourself as better than others. You scheme with envy and harm others to selfishly obtain what you crave—that’s why you quarrel and fight. And all the time you don’t obtain what you want because you won’t ask God for it!  And if you ask, you won’t receive it for you’re asking with corrupt motives, seeking only to fulfill your own selfish desires.  You have become spiritual adulterers who are having an affair, an unholy relationship with the world. Don’t you know that flirting with the world’s values places you at odds with God? Whoever chooses to be the world’s friend makes himself God’s enemy! ~ James 4:1-4 (TPT)

Whew…

Gut check.

Do I really want what God wants? (Am I willing to relinquish my own wish list?) Can I subdue my stubborn pride?

Less attention-seeking… more soul-searching.

Less “look at me.” More pointing to Him.

Less making content. More making disciples.

The apostle Paul made it crystal clear:

He must increase, but I must decrease.

But how?

My dear pastor Clem put it this way:

It’s not thinking less of yourself… it’s just thinking of yourself less.

But I’m all me me me!!! sometimes. (Ok, most of the time.)

And when I’m not – when I actually put Jesus in his rightful place, first – well…

If you’re following the real Jesus (not the one you created or curated for yourself), you’ll quickly find that you’re… well… pretty unpopular with some people.

Or a lot.

You’ll lose friends/followers/favor.

Jesus told us so:

But it’s trouble ahead if you think you have it made.
What you have is all you’ll ever get.

And it’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself.
Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games.
There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it.

There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests—look how many scoundrel preachers were approved by your ancestors! Your task is to be true, not popular. ~ Luke 6:24-26 (MSG)

If we’re truly willing to follow Jesus, we must be willing to walk alone. Alone, but never lonely.

Because God is…

With us.

Jesus isn’t a skeleton or a sentiment.

He is risen!

(And he loves you to death.)

Follow him.

Wendy

P.S. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same. (C.S. Lewis)

Just a Taste

I’m over 2020. (Guessing you are too.)

But it isn’t.

Still six weeks to go… give or take a socially-distant holiday or two.

Ugh.

As both Covid cases and post-election tensions surge, 2020 continues its reign of trouble/tension/terror and appears likely to tag-team with ’21.

With another round of school closures, small business losses and city/state lockdowns, Covid fatigue is giving way to…

Pandemic despondency.

At this point, just getting out of bed is a noteworthy accomplishment. (Zero judgment if you’re reading this under the covers. These are unprecedented times – which require occasional pajama days, frequent naps and Alexa streaming “soothing rainfall” nature sounds on your nightstand.)

And though most of us are battling Covid fatigue, let’s not forget that many are battling… Covid. Patients are still suffering – and succumbing – in alarming numbers.

(While healthcare workers kill themselves trying to save them.)

I look around, and nearly everyone I know is suffering somehow – physically, emotionally, relationally, spiritually. Or all of the above.

Seems we’re all pretty desperate.

Desperate for a glimmer of hope. Peace of mind, body and spirit. Some semblance of normalcy.

Desperate for some comfort and joy in this heartbreaking world.

A little tenderness.

Sweetness.

Beauty.

Desperate for a taste of the good life.

A while back, I attended a yearlong urban workshop in which participants took a variety of courses (“Poverty 101,” “Hidden Rules of Class” etc) to help us become more educated, equipped and effective in our volunteer work. I remember one class in particular when our instructor, Dr. Amy Sherman, entered the room clutching a tiny pink plastic spoon.

“Who knows what this is?”

A few hands shot up.

“A spoon!”

“What kind of spoon?”

“It’s a tasting spoon!”

“Exactly. It’s meant to give customers ‘just a taste’ of different ice cream flavors – up to 31, I imagine.” She grinned.

Dr. Sherman went on to explain that as Christ-followers and volunteers, one of our critical assignments is to share with others the “flavors” of God’s grace and goodness.

A loving spoonful, if you will.

A foretaste of heaven.

After class, Dr. Sherman gave each of us a little pink plastic spoon to keep in our pocket as a reminder of our “mission from God.” And her lesson has stuck with me ever since.

That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?

To love… because God first loved us.

To (for)give and serve and bless… because that’s what he does.

If we claim to follow him, shouldn’t we be using our gifts of mercy or helps or hospitality to bring a little heaven to this oft-hellish earth? To share spoonfuls of lovingkindness with the people around us?

When I was growing up, we said a simple “grace” before we ate. It was short and sweet (and thereby kept us kids from becoming hangry – that terrible moment when hungry goes all rogue/rage).

God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.

Yes, amen.

God is great… and good… and you need only take one bite of fresh pineapple or parmesan risotto or pralines ‘n cream to know it.

Comfort food was his idea.

Brilliant.

(And bursting with flavor.)

Penzey’s Spices, a favorite of foodies and epicures everywhere, has a lovely little slogan. Maybe you’ve seen it on a bumper sticker or dish towel someplace:

Love people. Cook them tasty food.  

That’s the gospel according to Penzey’s. And it’s not too far off, really.

Look at Jesus. He cooked for the people he loved. Really. (See John 21, the chapter I like to call “Breakfast on the Beach with the Prince of Peace.”)

Jesus fed people. Physically and spiritually. And he encouraged others to do the same.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.”He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. ~ John 21:15-17 (NLT)

Do you love God?

Feed people.

Big and little. Hungry and hangry. Vegans and carnivores.

Offer them the fresh fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness… and self-control.

Feed them.

Body and soul.

Whether you’re preparing a meal for your family, picking up curbside… or planning to gobble a turkey sandwich while zooming with friends and family, I wish you a bountiful, blessed Thanksgiving. Yes, even in 2020.

Bon Appetit!

Wendy

P.S. Since this holiday is all about giving thanks, can we take a moment and offer a little gratitude to those bearing the heaviest burdens of Covid: our doctors, nurses, pharmacists and first responders, our therapists and teachers, our grocery store workers, truck drivers and delivery people. Let’s thank God for them… say a prayer for them… and give them thanks too.

Daddy Issues

This one might hurt a little.

‘Cause Father’s Day isn’t just fun and (baseball/bags/poker/tennis/golf) games. Sadly, this third Sunday in June can toss up all kinds of heartache and here’s why:

There’s a whole slew of troubled guys out there who happen to have reproduced.

And more than a few of their kids grew up… hurt. So many battle-scarred adults were wounded by the person responsible for protecting them:

Dad.

(Others were just collateral damage in his own private battles.)

All this means there’s a mess of kids – young and old – for whom Father’s Day seems a little ridiculous/offensive/pointless/painful. Or a lot.

I’d venture to guess that most of those troubled dads got that way because their dads were troubled.

(Unfortunately, it’s often an inherited trait.)

Doesn’t take a PhD in Clinical Psychology to figure out that a lot of deadbeat dads were raised by men who were chronically distant or distracted. Dismissive or demanding. Demeaning or downright mean.

Or maybe Dad just took off. Without thinking twice about the fallout.

Either way, daddy issues almost always come back to haunt somebody. Usually two somebodies:

Parent.

And child.

The sad truth is there are a lot of lousy dads. And even more mediocre ones. But the good news is there are some really fantastic fathers out there too.

My kids got one of the all-time greats.

His name is Steve… but he mostly goes by Dad, Daddy, Dizzle or (my personal favorite)…

Hoosier Daddy.

He’s the best of the best. Steady, strong, hardworking, humble, faithful, fun and fiercely devoted. He counsels, coaches, comforts, consoles. He folds laundry and settles disputes. He’s good with a mower, shovel, glove and putter. And he can grill a mean rack of ribs.

He plays with our kids and prays with our kids.

And he practices what he preaches.

He loves them. Dearly. Deeply.

Day after day after day.

Real love means sacrifice. For dads, it means willingly relinquishing their desires (perhaps their dreams too) so their kids can grow up healthy, safe and strong… and pursue their own dreams.

Being a good dad requires intentionality and investment.

Because you know how kids spell “love?”

T-I-M-E.

The best dads give their kids that gift, again and again.

(Even when it’s inconvenient or seems “unimportant” in comparison to other demands.)

If you got a dad like that, it’s pretty easy to respect, appreciate and celebrate that guy. But what if you didn’t?

Honor your father…

Anyway.

(Because God said so.)

Notice the lack of conditions/caveats/qualifications. It doesn’t say “Honor your father if (fill-in-the-blank).”

If he was honorable. Or admirable. Or available. (Or even around.)

It just says honor him.

Sometimes that means expressing gratitude (for a job well done) and admiration (for a life well-lived).

Sometimes it’s just acknowledging that he did the best he could. (Often this requires some hindsight… and humility.)

But if your dad was someone who abused you – physically or emotionally, intentionally or repeatedly – how in the world are you supposed to do that impossibly hard thing? Honor him?

Honestly, I have no idea. Because my dad didn’t abuse or abandon me. He didn’t belittle or manipulate or prey on me… he protected and provided and prayed for me.

Maybe “honoring” your dad just means allowing God to be your Father… and asking Him to help you not repeat the cycle of abuse.

Or maybe it means mustering every ounce of mercy and bravery that God offers and saying, “I forgive you.” Even if you’ve never gotten a glimpse of remorse or a whisper of “I’m sorry.”

Because forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.

(When you open it, you’ll find buried treasure inside. For some, freedom. Others, healing. Some, transformation. Others, a whole new identity.)

The truth is it’s our Creator who defines us. The real question isn’t who your father is… or even who you are… it’s whose you are.

Who’s your Daddy?

If you don’t already know Him, I pray you’ll get to know your Heavenly Daddy.

I just hope you’re not too wounded or bitter to even try.

Maybe you blame “our Father who art in heaven” for your troubled/absent/abusive one. You figure if He’s really God (all-knowing, all-powerful and all that) then He’s responsible for the dad you got (or didn’t get, as the case may be).

Fair enough.

But God’s not a dictator. He didn’t “make” your father do – or not do – anything. He isn’t responsible for that great big gash your dad left on your heart.

He just wants to be the one to stitch it up. (And make it better than new.)

He promises to be the Dad you never had: protective, patient, kind, strong, gentle, wise, merciful, fair, full of good humor and giver of good gifts.

He really is the… Best. Dad. Ever.

And He loves you like crazy.

From the bottom of my heart, I wish you a Heavenly Father‘s Day.

Wendy

P.S. Pretty sure if all dads were good dads, a lot of the world’s problems would vanish in a heartbeat.

Christians & COVID: Politicizing, Theorizing (& Apologizing)

The only maladies more contagious than COVID right now are the rapidly-mutating accusations and politically-charged conspiracy theories surrounding it.

Wow.

And yikes.

I haven’t heard them all yet… but I’ve heard a smattering. And a whole lot of them are coming from Christians. (Disclaimer: I realize that some people who’d identify themselves as such don’t know a whole lot about what Jesus said, did or taught.)

Frankly, I just don’t get it.

Because what does polarizing/politicizing/promoting conspiracy theories – in a pandemic (or ever) – actually accomplish? Especially in regards to what Christ told us to do?

Jesus made it pretty clear that we’ve got two essential tasks before us:

Love God with everything we’ve got.

And love people. Strangers, friends and foes alike.

^ I’m not exactly sure how speculating and insinuating and implicating fit into that.

If we really want people to be drawn to Jesus (and all His goodness/grace/mercy), then we – the people who follow Him – ought to (at least try to) be good and gracious and merciful ourselves. If Christians aren’t the kind of people others are drawn to, then it would seem we’re not doing our job. (Love draws people in and makes them feel heard… seen… safe… special. Not scolded/slandered/dismissed/detested.)

News flash: We’re supposed to point people to Jesus by looking – and living – like He did.

There’s a surprising number of people who know something’s broken/wrong/ missing/stuck in their lives. And they’re just waiting for someone to introduce them to the One who can fix/forgive/fill/free them.

I’ve said this before (probably during the last election cycle) but I think it bears repeating:

My dear brothers and sisters, if we want to win some, we need to be…

Winsome.

Based on what I see on social media lately, I’d say we’re falling embarrassingly short.

I’ve seen some pretty insensitive/offensive/capricious remarks in response to people with differing views on COVID and the issues surrounding it. That over-the-top defensiveness smacks of pride… or paranoia. And it hurts my heart.

And really, what good does it do? The odds of convincing someone with an opposing view – on a platform like Twitter or Facebook – are next to nil.

Maybe these folks can’t find anything better to do.

Or maybe (after two months in lockdown) they’re starting to lose it.

(Coronanervousbreakdown?)

Ranting and raving rarely convince anyone of anything… except that the person doing it is out in left field (or right, as the case may be.) Explain how being argumentative – or spittin’ mad – is going to invite others to love and follow Jesus?

Can we all just take a deep breath… and a step back… and remind ourselves:

The enemy is… the enemy.

Not people created in God’s image and loved like crazy by Him. (Regardless of political perspective, party affiliation, personal preferences or past mistakes.)

We Christians need to pull it together (and pull together). We need to ask the Holy Spirit to empty us of ourselves and fill us full of His love. We need to listen and pray, give and forgive, serve and bless.

… when the Holy Spirit controls our lives he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. ~ Galatians 5:22-23

Peace… not pot-stirring.

Patience… not pushback.

Kindness… not contempt.

Gentleness… not hostility.

Self-control… not volatility.

A friend of mine recently shared this quote from Oswald Chambers, and it struck a chord:

The things we are going through are either making us sweeter, better, nobler men and women; or they are making us more captious and fault-finding, more insistent upon our own way. The things that happen either make us fiends, or they make us saints; it depends entirely upon the relationship we are in to God. If we say — “Thy will be done,” we get the consolation of John 17, the consolation of knowing that our Father is working according to His own wisdom. When we understand what God is after we will not get mean and cynical. Jesus has prayed nothing less for us than absolute oneness with Himself as He was one with the Father. Some of us are far off it, and yet God will not leave us alone until we are one with Him, because Jesus has prayed that we may be. 

The response to this pandemic has elicited all kinds of politically-charged accusations and public shaming. I’m not denying there’s lots of lousy reporting, misinformation and not-so-hidden agendas – money and power come to mind – in both political parties and every media outlet around. But why this startling impulse (of some individuals) to push conspiracy theories and wild speculation and gloom-and-doom prognostication? 

None of it is helping. It’s not healing a single sick patient or helping a weary front-line worker or feeding a hungry family or lifting anyone out of despair.

So let me be the first to apologize.

To our doctors and nurses and pharmacists and first-responders.

To our grocery store workers and truck drivers and delivery people.

To our researchers and scientists and statisticians.

To my neighbors, friends and fellow citizens whose newsfeed looks uglier by the day.

And to those who have lost loved ones… or their livelihood.

I’m sorry.

Please don’t reject Jesus because of those who claim to follow Him including…

Yours Truly,

Wendy

P.S. I know I’ll probably get some grief for this post… and that’s okay. I may hear some explanations/generalizations/justifications like: “I want the truth! I’m just trying to educate people! Jesus spoke truth!”

Yes He did. (He IS truth.) But when Jesus spoke truth, it was thoroughly wrapped in humility and grace. He wasn’t presumptuous or pushy. Ever.

In fact, the only times He got really riled?

He was calling out…

Religious hypocrites.

*******

Father, forgive us.

 

When There’s No Easy Way Out

In the midst of this pandemic, I have a question for you. Bold and uncensored.

A somber, blunt, bare-your-soul kind of question.

What’s your worst fear?

Is it this virus?

This plague that violently attacks some… and leaves them gasping for breath… fighting for dear life?

Is that the vexing thing that looms low and dark, ominous and unsettling? The thing that instantly evokes foreboding… or sheer terror? The invisible enemy that creeps close, no matter which way you turn. The threat that slinks and slithers into every quiet moment and leaves you rattled, reeling.

Maybe COVID-19 isn’t the thing. Sure, it’s taken center stage… but behind the curtain lurks another assailant, taunting you with terrifying “what ifs” or “what nows” or grim predictions or false accusations. Threats of inescapable heartbreak or inevitable failure: infertility, arrest, abuse, bankruptcy, betrayal.

Perhaps it’s something even worse. Maybe you’re terrified of watching someone you love… leave.

Or suffer.

Or self-destruct.

Or die.

(Does it matter the culprit? COVID, cancer, cardiac failure… they’re are all merciless killers.)

Whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s heavy. And hard. And hurts like hell.

Fear and dread drag us to the shadowlands and abandon us there. They make us scratch/claw/cower/sob. They predict defeat and suggest surrender. Or lay blame and offer ammo.

They whisper doom.

So we seek scapegoats and stockpile munitions (masks/gloves/groceries/guns) and sometimes we make human shields of the people we hold dearest. (Because they’re near.)

Fear convinces us that we are utterly alone. That we have to walk the proverbial plank (or lie in the ICU bed) unaccompanied and unprotected, bound and bare.

Dread persuades us that no one has the faintest clue what we’re going through… or what peril awaits.

No one.

Not a single soul.

But it isn’t true.  

Because…

Jesus.

He walked away, perhaps a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed this prayer: “Father, if you are willing, please take away this cup of horror from me. But I want your will, not mine.”Then an angel from heaven appeared and strengthened him, for he was in such agony of spirit that he broke into a sweat of blood, with great drops falling to the ground as he prayed more and more earnestly. (Luke 22:41-44, TLB)

Jesus was no stranger to dread.

He felt its stranglehold. Knew its instinct to devour.

He begged release. But it was denied him.

There simply was no easy way out.

So He bore the anguish through tears… and beads of sweat… and drops of blood.

He faced the worst horror of all, knowing full well what heinous injustice, vicious brutality and unbridled evil would be unleashed against him.

He was not spared the brunt of the (real) Avenger’s wrath. He wasn’t delivered from one millisecond of hissing mockery or bloody torture or wrongful conviction. Nor the spitting or scourging or spikes or…

Suffocating.

Jesus drank the cup of suffering… and poured out his lifeblood.

Alone.

His followers distanced themselves.

His friends freaked… and fled. In fact, one of his closest companions outright denied even knowing him. (Not once or twice. Three times.) Another turned traitor.

Even his own Father deserted him in his darkest hour.

At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock.  Then at three o’clock Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” …Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed his last.  And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. When the Roman officer who stood facing him saw how he had died, he exclaimed, “This man truly was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:33-34, 37-39, NLT)

Jesus – the Son of Almighty God – despaired… and died. Unaccompanied and unprotected, bound and bare.

Utterly, indecently, disgracefully – and yes, dreadfully – alone.

Why? So we never have to be. Not in a pandemic. Not on our deathbed. Never.

Jesus died alone so we don’t have to.

His name is Immanuel…

God with us.

He is Love. And love never leaves.

Oh how he loves us.   

Crazy as it may sound, his love was deeper and wider and higher than his sweating-blood dread. Braver than the savagery inflicted on him. More ferocious than all the foes and forces amassed against him. His love fueled him through forsakenness.

Jesus’ steadfast, staggering love compelled him – held him – to the cross.

He suffered alone, so we could come near.

Near to the holy.

Near to the heavenly.

Near to hope.

He drank the cup of crucifixion, so we could could come close – commune – with him.

Our Helper, our Healer, our High Priest.

We have a great high priest. He has gone up into heaven. He is Jesus the Son of God. So let us hold firmly to what we say we believe.  We have a high priest who can feel it when we are weak and hurting. We have a high priest who has been tempted in every way, just as we are. But he did not sin. So let us boldly approach God’s throne of grace. Then we will receive mercy. We will find grace to help us when we need it. (Hebrews 4:14-16, NIRV)

There’s no easy way out of this pandemic. And ultimately, there’s no escaping death. It comes to all… eventually.

If there’s ever a time to face your worst fear, it’s now.

Whatever it is that you dread… draw near to the throne of grace.

Receive mercy.

Find grace.

While they were eating, Jesus took bread and blessed it. He broke the bread, gave it to his disciples, and said, “Take this, and eat it. This is my body.” Then he took a cup and spoke a prayer of thanksgiving. He gave it to them and said, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood, the blood of the promise. It is poured out for many people so that sins are forgiven.” (Matthew 26:26-28, GW)

The One ~ God’s own Son, the perfect Passover Lamb ~ who faced the dread, drank the cup, spilled his blood and bore the cross…

He won.

He rose.

He forgives. (Yes, even that.)

He lives!    

He defeated sin and darkness and death. Once and for all.

For all.  

Believe and receive.

Now glory be to God, who by his mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of—infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes. (Ephesians 3:20, TLB)

Praying for (another) Easter miracle.

Wendy

P.S. When it looks like there’s no easy way out, remember what Jesus said: I am the Way.

 

Through the Valley

By now, everyone’s heard the news.

Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gigi and seven others (including another father and daughter… and mother) were killed in a helicopter crash on Sunday.

In slow motion, our disbelief surrendered to shock and horror. The news was confirmed; we felt sick… stricken… distraught. Kobe’s teammates, broadcasters, coaches, friends – most visibly shaken – described the tragedy as devastating and senseless.

And Monday was no less sobering:

Holocaust Remembrance Day.

(We cannot… must not… ever… forget what happens when hatred and fear join forces.)

Whether we realize it or not, every hour we live and breathe on this spinning blue ball…

…We walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

It’s true that our days are numbered. And we are all walking – one step, one heartbeat, one breath at a time – toward our end.

But we don’t have to walk alone.

At funerals, we hear this reminder from a Davidic Psalm:

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. 

(Psalm 23, ESV)

What about you? When your time is up, what then? Where will you dwell?

We’re born. We live (80 years maybe… or 41… or 13). We die.

Then what?

Death happens. It’s inevitable. But we don’t really think about it much, do we? Until somebody dies. Especially when somebody dies tragically or too soon.

Then we wonder.

Maybe you imagine you’ll reemerge from your cocoon (coffin) and morph into a monarch butterfly or water moccasin… or Wakandan princess. (Sounds plausible… or not.)

Perhaps you have this vague idea death is just a deep sleep. Like Princess Aurora… without the wake-up kiss.

Really? I mean, a good night’s sleep is lovely and all, but sleepy/semiconscious/coffin-napping forever and ever?

***yawn***

(If that’s the case, we’ve got no shot at staying woke after all, do we?)

Or maybe you think death is just like the last page in our storybooks.

The end.

That’s it. A last breath… a flat line… eternal nothingness.

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say… I disagree. (Stay with me here – on this limb – for just a couple hundred words. Please.)

I think you and I were made for forever.

I think Kobe and Gigi and the other passengers and pilot of that helicopter were made for forever.

I think everyone, everywhere, is made for forever.

Why? Because God is great. And He loves us more than we can begin to imagine. Because He created us and cares for us and carries us.

Because He carried a cross for us… so that one day He can carry us home.

To heaven.

(Yes… forever.)

Don’t believe me? Here’s Kobe’s take… from an interview in 2006, three years after he was accused and charged with sexual assault. (The felony charges were dropped and a civil case was settled out of court for an undisclosed sum.) In his own words:

S.A. Smith/ESPN: What did you learn from that whole experience, just having to go through what you went through?

Kobe: God is great.

Smith: Is it that simple?

Kobe: God is great. Doesn’t get any simpler than that, bro.

Smith: Did you know that – I mean, everybody knows that – but the way you know it now… did you know it before that incident* took place?

Kobe: You can know it all you want but until you have to pick up that cross that you can’t carry… and He picks it up for you and carries you and that cross… then you know.

Kobe knew. (And now he really knows.)

Do you?

Regardless of what litters your past, you’re never beyond the reach of God’s love and mercy. Jesus’ blood will cover every sin in your story and every skeleton in your closet (and mine too). If you want forgiveness/freedom/forever home in heaven, all you have to do is ask.

LORD, have mercy… be my Shepherd… restore my soul… guide me along the right paths for your name’s sake.

It’s that simple.

And this profound:

If you ask, surely His goodness and love shall follow you all the days of your life (however many or few)… and you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

(Pretty sure you’ll meet Kobe there too.)

Isn’t God great?

Wendy

P.S. You can watch the clip from Kobe’s 2006 interview with Stephen A. Smith here.

* There’s no denying Kobe was an incredible inspiration to countless athletes and fans… but he wasn’t perfect. His past wasn’t (always) pretty. The aforementioned “incident” caused untold damage to Kobe’s reputation and his marriage. Kobe couldn’t fix it. In his words, he “couldn’t carry that cross.” Some say it’s disrespectful to point out the sins of the deceased. Sacrilegious even. And maybe it is. But religion isn’t the point here. Relationship is. A relationship between a sinner and a Savior. A father and the Son. A really good basketball player… and a really great God.