This post has been brewing in my head for a while...keeps changing in form, title, words...But, I think I have it now. [If it's a little bit choppy and all over the place, I apologize. There's just too much going on in my head...]

It started with this book I'm reading. It's called "This Beautiful Mess - Practicing the Presence of the Kingdom of God" by Rick McKinley. While I don't know if I agree or even understand everything he writes about, I am still being moved by this book. It's super thought provoking; I believe I can even use the word "radical." The back cover of the book says this:

When Jesus announced, “the kingdom of God is at hand,” what did He mean? Uncover the reality of the kingdom of God and what it might look like if followers of Christ practiced its in-breaking presence. What happens when we view life through the lens of the kingdom? How does the beauty of Jesus’ reign break into the mess of our broken lives and world? What if we lived as though a world other than this one was here today? This Beautiful Mess launches a paradigm-shifting journey inviting us to experience the kingdom of God in the ordinary miracle of our everyday lives.

I guess that would describe the book. But not what it's been doing in my head. It's only a brief window into how the view before my eyes is changing.

I'm a girl all about definitions. I love words and looking up what words mean. Definitions are super important because knowing them makes the words more powerful. But how do you define the Kingdom of God? At this point, I'm pretty sure you can't. How can you define something so large, multi-faceted and all-encompassing? I think that's why if you look in the New Testament, Jesus used numerous metophors for the Kingdom. It was likened to things such as a treasure in a field, a pearl, yeast, a mustard seed. Yeast and pearls are very much different things. How does that work?

At one point, the author explains that Kingdom of God is here already, but also, not here yet. It's a tension that exists between the two. Jesus did show up, and He brought with Him life, redemption, relationship and beauty. But when you look around you, at the ugliness that is, the death, disease, deception, greed, and confusion how can we say the Kingdom of God is here? The author put it this way:

The Kingdom of God is the kingdom of life, health, beauty, salvation and freedem to name just a few of its qualities. The enemy of the kingdom, whom the Bible refers to as Satan, is always attacking that life and health and beauty. He attacks spiritual freedom; he wants us to be paralyzed. His relentless attacks are why things are not the way they are supposed to be...yet.

But there in the midst of the tension, the kingdom of God still comes crashing in.

Since reading that paragraph, I've been looking for the Kingdom of God in my life. Here are just two of the things I recently witnessed:

The Kingdom of God was present this past Saturday, as I watched my little baby having the time of her life with her daddy, splashing in the cool lake on a hot day. Life, family, laughter - these are the things of the Kingdom.

The Kingdom of God came crashing in during our church service, when two brave women got up and shared the ugliest, most beautiful testimony I have ever heard. Redemption, forgiveness, wholeness - these are the things of the Kingdom.

The author also says this about Kingdom-living:

Pay attention, Jesus was saying, because in a mysterious but powerful way, the condition of your heart radically dictates what the kingdom is going to look like in your life. If you wrap all your hopes and dreams around it and let it sink far into your inner being, the kingdom of Jesus will live in you and bear fruit.

So where does that leave me? The Kingdom is still "undefined". How can I make sure it's present in my life if I can't even explain what it is? I think...I think that's okay. I need to be all right with an undefined presence of God in my life. If I could put it in a box with a nice ribbon, it wouldn't be all powerful. It wouldn't be God and His Kingdom.

That leaves me with this conclusion: I want kingdom fruit, whatever that looks like, to be present in my life. I want to look for the Kingdom in my everyday life and be encouraged that though it's not here yet, it's powerful enough for little pieces to break through. I will cherish and be grateful for those moments when the Kingdom does break through and I will strive to make choices that will enable it to show up more and more. I want my heart to reflect Jesus and everything He is.

Foreboding Joy

Ever notice that it's way easier to write about things that are hard or troubling or "dark"? Maybe it's just me. It's more fun to write about deep hard process things in a dark foreboding tone. Better adjectives to use. What do you write when things are going well? There are words like "good", "happy", "smiley", "fun". Those aren't exactly a writer's favourite words. Why can't there be a great word like "foreboding" that means something good?

For this moment in my life, I feel...settled. Happy. Good. Like I have a fun life. (See, those words are inadequate, even a bit boring.) Oh sure, there are the occasional frustrating moments during the day. But really, for right now, I feel like I fit into my life. I'm not even sure things have changed all that much. I think pieces of my heart and elements of my attitude have changed. Maybe when those changed, they opened a door for joy to enter in. No longer do I feel like a square peg trying to shove herself into a round hole. Or, not even shove. It's more like, I was just sitting over a round hole, wishing that it would miracuously turn into a square so I'd fit.

About a month and half ago I went to a retreat, and there I was given the opportunity to spend some time repenting. Sounds funny. Repenting does bring refreshing though, so if ever I am given the chance to repent, I willingly take it. (Usually). With the refreshment came encouragement. And open doors. By getting rid of the ugly corners of my square shaped heart, I found I could fit into the places I was trying to get to - and then some. More open doors. More round holes for me to fill.

So, it's good. It's fun. The sun is shining right now and it's beautiful. (See? All I can think of are cliched words. Boring.) Oh well. On with my foreboding joy. (Foreboding as in great.)

Process

I've heard the word "Process" in my head lately. Process...process. What does it mean, really? What am I saying when I say, "I'm going through a process"? The dictionary defines process in a few different ways:

1. a systematic series of actions directed to some end
2. a continuous action, operation, or series of changes taking place in a definite manner
3. the action of going forward or on
4. to treat or prepare by some particular process, as in manufacturing
5. to require (someone) to answer questionnaires, perform various tasks, and sometimes to undergo physical and aptitude classification examinations before the beginning or termination of a period of service

The word process is from the latin processus meaning "a going forward". So I guess, by definition, one may conclude that if someone is in a process, it is not possible to go backwards. Digression would negate the prescence of a process.

As a Christian, I feel the pains of the "process" of becoming a disciple of Christ. It's not a constant pain. Sometimes, I hardly notice the process. Sunny days are bright and cheerful. All is right in my world and I skip along on my merry way, proud of my accomplishments and the places I'm heading. Other times, my whole world seems to fall around me. My words are harsh, my thoughts dark. I trudge along, up a muddy hill, cursing the process.

Process means change; continuous actions in a forward movement. Change is frustrating. Foreward movement means I'm going places I've never been before. I'm learning new things. It's about dealing with the ugly parts of my life that I haven't had to deal with before now. And suddenly, there I am, face to face with my humanity. If I pretended the process didn't exist, my reflection would be beautiful. But I've asked for the process. I wear it like a pair of glasses, allowing me to see clearly. The shocking clarity saddens me, but also shows me the flaws I can fix. I won't always be this messy looking. The process will end when Perfection comes back.

If I stay true to the process, it means I won't digress. I won't get too far away from my goal. Only closer. It's sure to get harder, but it also means I'm closer to completion.

Jesus Loves Me

I recently watched a moved called, "The Day the Earth Stood Still" (The newer one starring Keanu Reeves). For those of you who have never seen it, it's about aliens who come to earth with a mission to save Earth from humans. The aliens had been watching the humans as they had slowly destroyed the life that is on Earth. In order to stop the destruction, the aliens put a plan into effect that will rid the Earth of humans and start over again. I guess it's sort of a modern day Noah's Ark. Only more alien-y.

One scene in the movie shows the main alien, (Klaatu) who has landed on Earth to start the process of elimination, head into McDonalds for a meeting. The man who joins him in the booth is a small elderly Chinese man named Mr. Wu. As the two carry out the conversation, we learn that Mr. Wu is actually an alien who has been living on Earth for the past 70 years. He had be studying humans and learning about how they live in order to report back to his superiors.

After Mr. Wu informs Klaatu that humans are, in fact, a destructive race, and that they will never change, Klaatu tells Mr. Wu that the process has begun and that Mr. Wu needs to head home:

Klaatu: You can't stay here.
Mr. Wu: I can and I will.
Klaatu: If you stay, you'll die
Mr. Wu: I know. This is my home now.
Klaatu: You yourself called them a destructive race.
Mr. Wu: That's true, but still there is another side. You see, I love them. It is a very strange thing. I cant find a way to explain it to you...True, my life is difficult, but as this life is coming to an end, I consider myself lucky to have lived it.

Watching this little scene, I couldn't help but think about Jesus. He loves us. He lived on Earth with us. He saw that we are a destructive race. He saw that we are evil and hurtful and deceitful. He knows that we will never change. But, it's very strange. He loves us.

He sees that I am part of this destructive race. He sees that I have bad attitudes and dishonest conversations and a lazy spirit. But He loves me.

I think perhaps He looks at us and sees our potential. He knows we were created for beauty and graciousness and wonder. He looks at us and remembers what we looked like in the Garden. True, we are a destructive race, but He looks at the other side. He loves us.

Well-formed love

I have a confession to make. I am scared of teenagers. Always have been. Never mind the fact that I'm like, at least 10 years older than a lot of them. I'm not entirely sure where this came from. I remember one day when I was about 12 years old, my sister and I were in a store close to a high school. This distraught teenage girl came running in, crying. She was freaking out, shouting, "They are trying to set my hair on fire!" I don't remember what happened after that, or even what really was going on. In my head, it was probably a bunch of mean and tough high school kids who were picking on this girl. After that, I always wondered what I would do if someone set my hair on fire.

The thing with teenagers is that I think they can be unpredictable. Who knows what is going on inside their heads? Stereotypes define them as being disrespectful, uncaring, and emotional punks. Even the ones who haven't been in any real trouble or arrested often get the same distinction. Especially by me. I've noticed this more and more as my walks with Lucy take me by a highschool, often just as school is out. Along the sidewalk students linger, some waiting for the bus, some killing time until their parents' show up. They're usually laughing, sometimes together, sometimes at each other. Doesn't matter to me. Instantly, my guard goes up, as if preparing for war. What if one of these punks does something to Lucy? What if they start heckling me? What will my exit strategy be? I don't even look them in the eyes for fear they'll notice my quivering lip.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Is this really fear, or have I written off an entire generation because I don't understand them? I assume that they can't be trusted, that they're always only up to no good, that every single one of them would like to chance to set my hair on fire. The other day I was walking through the mall, and I had to pass through a group of teenage boys. I would say they were about 15 or 16 years old. My guard went up, and my first thought was, "These kids, so disrespectful. They're not even getting out of my way". As I continued walking, I heard one boy say to another something to the effect of, "What was that? You didn't see her?" In that moment, the Lord convicted me. I had written these boys off as punks. I didn't even consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, they hadn't seen me. I didn't even say, "Excuse me". I just barreled through, expecting them to get out of my way.

Currently, many different aspects in my life seem to be merging at one specific point: Love people. Loving is noticing. Loving is giving people a chance. Loving is not listening to stereotypes. Love is walking by a student and smiling at them. Maybe it's the only smile they got all day. How dare I just keep walking. I want to start looking at people in the eyes. How silly to be controlled by fear when I can be controlled by love.

1 John 4:18 (The Message)
God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we're free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ's. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

Hope Proved True

Psalm 33:4:
"For the word of the Lord holds true,
and we can trust everything he does."


To the future she laughs, wipes the hair
From her eyes
and dances
Nothing appears more beautiful
More pure, more elegant
Than hope proved true.

The moment, glorious
The preparation, long. Painful.
Full of tear-streaked faces.

Seems cruel to me that
Time takes its time to finally realize.
How dreams don’t often materialize
Until the proper time
Like a clock that ticks, over and over
Ignoring the pleading,
Forgetting we’re waiting.
It’s the tock we’re watching for.

We want forward movement of dreams
That were planted.
We want to catch a peek, a glimpse,
To know that what was promised
will not be hiding forever.

So she waits. And waits.
Keeps waiting, trusting, believing
Some days hopeful
Some days pleading

How to trust in the dark,
Imagining a sun does exist.
To trust in something, Someone
Who is so faithful, but maybe
Maybe
forgetful?

Then one day, the switch turns on
IT’S TIME! Is blazed across the sky.
How beautiful is this?
How beautiful is she?

To the future she laughs, wipes the hair
From her eyes, and dances
Declaring – no more whispering –
That the word of her God holds true.

Calling out the Princess.

The other day a lady told me a random little story about some people she knew. There was this little girl that, right from birth, was told she was a princess. By the time she got to kindergarten, she went around the classroom telling everyone that she was a princess. I thought the story was really cute. The lady telling me the story seemed a little bit apalled that this little girl had the audacity to call herself a princess.

I started thinking about that. Why would a little story like that invoke two different responses? I think the problem lies in the definition of "princess". Maybe not even the definition, but the connotation. The pictures that the word "princess" paints.

When this lady thinks "princess", I bet she thinks spoiled little rich girl who has been given everything she has ever wanted. This princess expects those around her to stroke her ego, tell her how great she is, give in to every little whim, and never challenge the character of the princess, as, of course, this princess is perfect. Examples of these kinds of "princesses" would be the evil stepsisters in Cinderella, the Wicked Witch in Wizard of Oz, the White Witch in Narnia, Sharpay Evans in High School Musical, Josie Pye in Anne of Green Gables, etc, etc. These girls all thought they were something special, and demanded the recognition of princess. That made them ugly.

When I think "princess", I think about those girls who have integrity and characteristics that make them beautiful. These are girls who don't need a title; who would serve and love and behave like ladies rather than stand in the spotlight, demanding respect. Cinderella was gentle with the birds and mice, making her a princess. Belle looked for the beauty even in something ugly and that made her a princess. It's not the title, it's the character inside the girl that creates the princess.

There's a book called A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It's been a while since I've read it, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. The story is about this daughter (Sara Crewe) of a wealthy man who is sent away to boarding school for her safety. This little princess is treated very well as the woman who runs the school knows that Sara has a rich father. One day, Sara is informed that her father has died. Suddenly, Sara is declared not to be a little princess, and therefore, has everything taken away from her. Instead of a student, she becomes slave to the headmistress. The few dresses she is allowed to keep get dirty and torn as she scrubs the floors and chimneys. Sara isn't even fed properly. I remember one part where she is so hungry, she stands outside a bakery desperate even for a crust of bread. As she is no longer a student, she is forced to wait on the other girls, who in turn shun her for her poverty.

Through all of this however, Sara maintains the same personality she always had. Kind, gentle, honest. Inside her heart, she is still the princess she remembers her father calling her.

That's the kind of princess I want my daughter to be. I want her to grow up hearing everyday that she is a princess. She will be taught that princesses clean bathrooms, empty garbages, wash dishes. She will be taught that princesses share their toys, spend their money to buy gifts for others, and smile at the homeless man as she walks by. She will learn that princesses don't always get their own way and that even princesses get spanked.

However, as she's learning the hard parts about being a princess, she will also learn that princesses are valuable. They are loved. They are beautiful. They are special and important. She will be told that all princesses need a prince, and if she watches and waits for him, he'll come riding up on a white horse to take her to her own castle (only after asking permission from the king and performing dangerous feats involving dragons and fire to prove his worth).

There is an old Russian proverb that says: "Call to the Princess and she will answer." As my daughter is learning what a Princess is, we will call to her. We will call out the very things we are teaching her. As we do that, I believe she will answer. With her cute little smile and big blue eyes and crazy curly blonde hair, she will walk into kindergarten telling the others that she is a princess. And then she will call out to the other princesses around her and they will giggle as they discover this great secret.

"Princess Lucy"

So, my church is hosting the annual Women's Weekend Away. They've done something different this year in terms of location. Usually, we go up to this camp around Hope. It's a lot of fun. Good food, cozy rooms. I like it. For this year, they're going to an actual hotel up by Harrison. That should be so pretty. My initial thought was, I'll just go up for the day. It would be too hard to bring Lucy up for the whole weekend, and I'm pretty sure my husband wouldn't like having her for the whole weekend. Plus, the cost went up a fair amount because of the location. Understandably so, but not totally practical for our family.

Then I found out that they don't allow drop ins. Either you go for the whole weekend or you don't go at all. Enter: Jenny's bad attitude. I thought it silly that my leaders would choose a place that didn't allow one-dayers. Didn't they think about that? And the cost. And the "inconvenience". Blah, blah, blah. I think I did a good job reigning in my pity party, so the world didn't see it, but still, the thoughts were there. I've since fixed that part. How great that my leaders took the risk of change. They wanted to do something different and special for the ladies this year. And really, they got a killer deal for staying at the hotel they booked. They work so hard at planning this weekend every year. I have no right to complain.

So, part one corrected. Part two, however, was still very much alive and active. I REALLY, REALLY wanted to go. The speaker this year is a fabulous woman (and friend of mine) whom I have had the pleasure of hearing speak numerous times, and I never get tired of her. I will listen to the same message 50 times over if it's given by her. She is amazing. But, pretty much due to finances, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be going this year. I would get the CD after the weekend was over.

I couldn't get the thought of going out of my head, though. Talking it over with my husband, he just said, "Let's pray about it." Sounded good to me. For the next couple of days, my prayers pretty much sounded like this, "Lord, I really want to go. Please put me on someone's heart so they'll pay for me." Ugh. How selfish is that? Well, maybe the prayer itself was not selfish, but my attitude accompanying the prayer was selfish. Kind of like it was my right to have someone pay for me because I deserved it. Gross, huh?

One morning, as I renewed my selfish prayer, I really stopped and thought about it. I remembered a teaching I had just listened to a couple of days ago (ironically, by the same lady who is speaking at the retreat). She said, "You will sacrifice for whatever it is you value." I value this retreat weekend. I value the teaching that I could sit under and listen to. I value the time I could spend with some of my friends. I value meeting with the Lord without distraction. What can I sacrifice? So, I've sacrificed a few things. Small, trivial things that don't even compare to a weekend like this. Some might say, "Well, now that your attitude is changed, maybe someone will pay for you". Thing is, I don't want them to. I want to pay for this. My trip. My value. I'll pay the price.

No More Featherdusters

"Evil never surrenders its grasp without a tremendous fight. We never arrive at any spiritual inheritance through the enjoyment of a picnic, but always through the fierce conflicts of the battlefield. And it is the same in the deep recesses of the soul. Every human capacity that wins its spiritual freedom does so at the cost of blood. Satan is not put to flight by our courteous request. He completely blocks our way, and our progress must be recorded in blood and tears. We need to remember this, or else we will be held responsible for the arrogance of misinterpretation. When we are born again, it is not into a soft and protected nursery but into the open countryside, where we actually draw out strength from the distress of the storm." (John Henry Jowett)

I read this at Youth the other night and then challenged the kids to enter the battle and pray hard for their friends, their schools and their country. I believe I also used the word "crap" when telling them how not to pray their usual halfhearted prayers. You know, the ones that are whispered, "Dear Lord, thank you for this day. Please save my school. Amen." Instead, together, we shouted out the words, "OH GOD, SAVE OUR COUNTRY! BRING REVIVAL, RESTORE PURITY! WE NEED YOU!" I even lost my voice a little bit.

It's now Friday morning, and I can't even think of a moment since Tuesday night where I've prayed, let alone cried out for the lost generation. It feels like there are two worlds inside me, and the "protected nursery" is the one in which I most often reside. Over the years, I have had to fight hard to learn how to pray in the countryside. The place where I recognize I'm in a battle, and I need to have blood on my sword. I remember those days. I felt strong. I believed nothing was impossible for the Lord. I recognized the dying world and I signed up to help save them. I learned how to pray the prayers that made evil surrender.

My sword is rusty right now,
sitting dusty on the shelf.
Barely touched.
I feel like I'm wielding a feather duster.
I can't remember the last time tears
Fell from my eyes for the lost.
When did I last raise my voice
Above a whisper?

I miss those days. I know, many would say the choices I make every day are a form of warfare. I believe that. But, I know, down in the warrior part of my heart, there is also a place for a more "violent" lifestyle. Oh, Lord, restore that part in my heart. I signed up for war, and I want to be put back into active duty.

Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do. He rushed straight up to the monster and aimed a slash of his sword at its side...he had just time to duck down and plunge his sword, as hard as he could, between the brute's forelegs into its heart. Then came a horrible, confused moment like something in a nightmare...A moment later he found that the monster lay dead and he had drawn his sword out of it was and was straightening his back and rubbing the sweat off his face and out of his eyes. He felt tired all over...

Peter, still out of breath, turned and saw Aslan close at hand. "You have forgotten to clean your sword," said Aslan.

It was true. Peter blushed when he looked at the bright blade and saw it all smeared with the Wolf's hair and blood. He stooped down and wiped it quite clean on the grass, and then wiped it quite dry on his coat.

"Hand it to me and kneel, Son of Adam," said Aslan. And when Peter had done so he struck him with the flat of the blade and said, "Rise up, Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane..." (Lion, Witch and Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis)

Worth the Price

I've been thinking a lot about motherhood these days, being that I am one. Specifically, I've been thinking about how it says in my Bible that children are a blessing from the Lord. I was thinking this around 2:30 am a couple mornings ago, as my darling child was up at that time for the 6th night in a row. I was tired. Really tired. Not feeling blessed at all. How can something be a blessing but feel like a curse other times? It makes no sense.

So, I looked up the word "blessed". Definitions include "happiness," "to bestow good", "to extol as holy". At 2:30 in the morning for the 6th day in a row, I was not happy, did not have good thoughts, and was definitely not exhibiting holiness.

I looked up some verses in my Bible that use the word blessed. This one stood out to me:

The Lord had said to Abram, “Leave your native country, your relatives, and your father’s family, and go to the land that I will show you. I will make you into a great nation. I will bless you and make you famous, and you will be a blessing to others. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who treat you with contempt. All the families on earth will be blessed through you.” (Gen. 12:1-3)

God didn't tell Abram that he was to be blessed no matter what. If Abram choosed to follow the Lord, THEN He would be blessed. I remembered something I have believed and said in the past. Anything worth having is worth paying the price for. Oh yeah. I did say that. I tell that to other people. To my youth kids. I forgot. A blessing will only fulfill its duty as a blessing if I've worked for it. Otherwise, it's just as worthless as garbage I happen to find along the road.

I remember a verse in Deuteronomy (I'm paraphrasing here). Basically, the Lord says to the Israelites:

"Today I put before you blessings that lead to life, or curses that lead to death. OH, THAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE LIFE".

I choose life. I'll pay the price. True life is worth the price.

So, the Lord says to me:

"Jenny, leave the comfort of your bed at 2:30 every morning to be with your child. Change her many dirty diapers. Clean up her spit up every 5 seconds. Wash those bottles. And walk in the life I have shown you. I will make you into a great family. You will have a daughter that loves you and loves Me. Continue to pay the price for having a family. See the heritage that you are paying into. You are and you will continue to be blessed. "

I'll take that over a full nights' sleep anyday.

To love is difficult for me.
I see more black than white.
What shocks me shouldn't.
The very humanity that averts my eyes
Is disguised
In me.