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.

Once Upon a Time in Ukraine

So there’s a chapter in my story that took place in Ukraine.

Turns out, that chapter is…

To be continued.

In 2001, Steve and I travelled to Kyiv to adopt a child. We had three sons and – believe it or not – weren’t convinced our family was complete. We talked about having another baby… but kept hearing this still, small voice:

What about all the others?

The orphaned and abandoned. The ones who’ve been shifted/shuffled/shoved around like so much used furniture.

What about them?

We prayed, went to an information meeting on international adoption… and prayed some more.

A year and a half later, we flew to Kyiv, travelled to an orphanage in Odessa… and there, we met our precious four-year-old girl. She had a shy smile, bright eyes, gentle spirit.

Alexandria.

(We decided to call her Lexi.)

We had maybe 20 minutes together. Talking through an interpreter, trying to connect, tenderly dreaming of her future… with a family.

Our family.

But then came 9/11… a travel moratorium… a postponed court date. We slogged through six months of complications and delays. And just as we were packing our bags to return to Kyiv to bring our little girl home, we got a call from Irena, our adoption facilitator in country. Long story short… she’d been informed a professor from Kyiv had filed a preemptive petition for “our” daughter. Alexandria would not be coming home with us after all.

Wait… what???

Irena went on.

Did we want to begin the process again? Travel to Ukraine, meet with orphanage directors, request an adoption referral, file paperwork, pay fees, update our home visit, wait for a new court date, make arrangements to travel back to Kyiv a third time?

Did we want to do that?

Did I want to do that?

All over again?

Yes!

No…

I had no idea.

What was God doing? We’d asked him to lead us. We tried to follow. And it had all come crashing down… and crushed us. Like the World Trade Center towers a few months before.

And now – 21 years later – I’m watching buildings fall again. And people get crushed.

In the very same place this chapter began.

Ukraine.

We’re all watching… the whole world.

Collectively stunned/horrified/reeling/outraged…

Crushed.

And I wonder where is Alexandria? Our dear Lexi? That precious preschooler, now a 25-year-old young woman.

Is she safe?

Is she alive?

And somewhere over there too, our troops stand strong, ready to respond. Whenever, wherever they’re called.

Including my son.

Needless to say, this war – an ocean and four time zones away – hits awfully close to home.

It’s personal.

I see images of cities that Steve and I visited… reduced to rubble. I watch the skies rain bombs onto apartment buildings, businesses, schools…

Orphanages.

And despite my wildly fluctuating feelings, my fretting/frustration/fears/fury (sometimes within the hour), I am oddly comforted.

Inspired.

Hopeful even.

As I witness the esprit de corps of the Ukrainian people and the valor of their president, I’m awestruck. It surpasses human comprehension.

I think a song from Hamilton says it best:

They’re outgunned, outmanned… outnumbered, outplanned.

And yet they…

Rise up!

Again and again. And we – the free world – must too.

Rise up.

Speak up. (Yes, I’ve written to my senators and our President. Can we please stop purchasing oil from Putin? Like… now?!)

Ante up. (There are so many amazing organizations mobilizing to provide humanitarian aid to those remaining in country… and those who have fled. Pick one. Or five. And kick in.)

Pray.

Pray.

Pray.

Recently, Ann Voskamp wrote:

Prayer isn’t the least we can do. It isn’t all we can do. It is the most we can do.

Know why?

Because there’s undeniable… otherworldly… power in prayer.

There’s a scene in The Matrix when Neo goes to see the Oracle. He walks in to see a handful of children sitting on the floor. At first glance, they seem to be playing with toys… but they’re not.

They’re putting training into action. Because they’re not on a playground; they’re in a war zone.

And that’s what we’ve got to do.

Because there are battles – seen and unseen – raging. In Ukraine. In Russia. And everywhere else on this not-yet-God-forsaken planet.

Incoming!

Prayer isn’t fairy dust.

It’s fuel…

And firepower.

BOOM!

It bends spoons. And moves mountains.

I’ve been astounded by eyewitness accounts of divine intervention and protection these past 12 days. And I’ve made a decision.

I don’t want to pray pathetic, puny prayers ever again.

I want to pray big, gutsy, God-sized ones.

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)

Some friends of ours run a nonprofit rehabilitation center in Ukraine that offers a wide array of medical, social, psychological, educational and therapeutic services. The director there, Oksana (not her real name) sent this email last week:

“The city is preparing for an attack. Even now as I am writing this, I hear planes flying over our heads. 

But the Lord has given us incredible peace: most of our staff is witnessing that, in spite of horror we see and hear about, we feel the Lord carrying us through and we know it is because you and thousands of our brothers and sisters are praying. Your prayers are priceless! We also hear many testimonies of God’s miracles like missiles disappearing (announced officially) or not exploding; our soldiers are seeing God’s power and His hand all over them. And it is powerful to see such unity, determination, love and care among all people. Everyone is offering help, everyone wants to do something and be part of this fight. My colleague Nastia (not her real name) caught an armed saboteur singlehandedly yesterday…

We are living through the most critical part of the war, which may take just a few more days or go on for weeks; we do not know. But we do know the Lord is among us, He is doing something great, we are part of His plan and Ukraine will win. So please please keep your mighty, constant prayers up!

Pray for the Lord to be the Saviour and shield of our army and to fight for them. Pray for the Lord to scatter and horrify our enemies and for their bullets and missiles to miss targets. And above all – pray for God’s Presence and light, for the Holy Spirit to bring revival and repentance to our land.“

Several years ago, Anne Lamott wrote a book about three essential prayers:

Help! Thanks! Wow!

I haven’t read the book, but the title rings true. I’m pretty sure Oksana (and her praying friends in Ukraine and around the world) have covered all three.

Help, God!

Thanks, God!

Wow, God!

Again and again.

(This is surely the intent behind scripture’s directive to pray without ceasing.)

One thing’s become starkly clear these past 12 days.

We desperately need God’s help.

You.

Me.

My son.

Alexandria. Oksana. Ukraine.

Soldiers, orphans, medics, refugees.

Ordinary people and presidents.

All.

Of.

Us.

Incoming!

Since we have a great high priest, Jesus the Son of God, who has gone into heaven, let us hold on to the faith we have… Let us, then, feel very sure that we can come before God’s throne where there is grace. There we can receive mercy and grace to help us when we need it. ~ Hebrews 4:14, 16

Pray with me.

Wendy

P.S. If you’d like to donate to Mission to Ukraine (the nonprofit rehabilitation center I referenced above), here’s the link: https://www.missiontoukraine.org