Love Story Week 1: Rahab

Every Wednesday morning I teach a women's Bible study.  We've been meeting together for 2 years.  This week, we begin our winter/spring study for 2014.  I'm calling it "Love Story."  I'm so excited about this study!

If you're like me, your holidays were spent making everything special—the most special it could be for the people you love.  How special is special enough?  I've been thinking about that for several months, and I've begun to think that we really wrestle with the need to feel special.  We are pressured by everyone else's pictures on Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. What a fabulous time they're having!  What an incredible recipe they just made!  What a fantastic new makeover they just gave their living room!  Look at their new boyfriend!  Their engagement ring!  Their wedding pictures!  Their kids!  Their new job!  Their vacation!  

We can begin to feel that we must go out and make the same magical things happen, get those things for ourselves, or we aren't special enough.  

Paul tells us in Ephesians 1 that we are indeed very special, chosen and loved by God and destined for an incredible purpose:

Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.)

Later in Ephesians 3, we learn that God is able to do far more for us than we could ever think up on our own or dare to ask for.  And certainly more than we could get for ourselves.

We cannot make ourselves special enough.  But God already has. He has set his heart on us.  He has a present and future to bring us that is part of eveything he's been doing since the creation of the world.  And he delights to bring us that life.  That's the good news we call The Gospel.  That's the story of the Bible.

I noticed two things in our Bible study last fall:  

First, I'm not sure we believe this about ourselves.   Second, I'm pretty sure we're afraid we don't know how to tell it to others.  I feel that way!  So I'm very excited about tackling those two problems together in our next Bible study, and here's how we're going to do it, in a fun but challenging new way:  

We're going to learn to tell Bible stories.

We're going to learn 18 Bible stories together, stories that tell us about the long-range plan God has for us, the very special role we play in his story, and the way he delivers that life to us.  We'll learn about women like Rahab, who jumped at the chance to have that kind of life; Sarah, who doubted that God could deliver on his special promise and schemed a way to get it herself; the Israelites, who doubted that God could take them into their promised life and so wandered in the wilderness for 40 years; and the Samaritan woman at the well, who didn't believe she was included in the promise, but wound up telling everyone in her village about Jesus, the one who knew everything about her and offered her a new life.  Each week, we'll learn a new story, and each week we'll practice telling it.

Yep, telling it.  Because I'm betting that we're not the only ones who wonder if we are special enough, who feel the need to go out and achieve a "special enough life" for themselves.  We're surrounded by neighbors and friends and family members who feel the same way.  We can tell them a story that could set them free of that.

In learning these stories, we're going to deal with lots of things:  shame, fear, worthiness, belonging, grace, identity, purpose, faith, receiving.

For this study, I'm going to be posting a recording of me telling the story.  (Mostly to encourage you.  If I tell the story this badly, surely you can do better!)  Listen to the story.  And then practice telling it yourself.

I'm also going to post the homework hand out each week, so you can download it and keep up with us, even if you don't make it to the class.  The homework has some questions for you to consider and journal about.  But the most important question is this:

Who will you tell the story to this week?  

This is good news;  it's meant to be shared.  Pray about it and watch for the opportunity you'll have to say, "Have you heard the story about….?"

So here we go:  

Ready to learn how we get written into God's love story? 

Here's the story of Rahab. 

Who did you tell this story to?  I'd love to hear about it. 

25 Things for Christmas and One for the New Year

This year, Arley Worley gave me the most wonderful Christmas gift:  a giant box of 25 Things to Open.  The box arrived on December 1, with a little package for each day til Christmas.

                                    

25 Things:

the most excellent potato masher
mashed potatoes=love

back scratcher

Sundance gift card!

perfect little sauce bowl

cozy throw in my fav blue

basil mint hand salts

thermal pack - make it hot or cold!

cool rolling pin

happy apron for Christmas cooking

delicious bath salts

boot socks in perfect orange/red/brown knit

W is for Worleys!

funny answers to text questions

gel booties for tired feet

Abe Lincoln boot socks!

over the knee black boot socks!

spa gift certificate!

Santa napkins

shiny silver orb

Starbucks!

apple ornament

Q-tip dispenser with BLUE Q-tips

book shopping!

"made with love" cookie press

Arley knows that blue is my favorite color, that I can't get enough books or coffee, that mashed potatoes and massages are special treats I dole out when I really need to de-stress, that I long for everything in the Sundance catalog and I have a thing for Christmas napkins and shiny orbs, that I love aprons and cooking gadgets, that boot socks make me ridiculously happy, I like alphabet letter do-dads and funny quirky books and soaking in the tub, that my shoulders get tight when I'm tense and there is an itchy spot in the middle of my back that drives me crazy.

She remembered every one of these things.  She went out and found them and wrapped them.  That blew me away, every day.

At Christmas, I am the one who does all the shopping and wrapping and stocking-stuffing.  I'm the one who plans the surprises and treats, and this job makes me happy.  Dennis is busy planning wonderful treats for the people who will come to church at Christmas, sights and sounds and moments they will never forget.  I take care of the home front.  Because of this, I'm rarely surprised at Christmas.

That's not because DW falls down on the job, mind you.  I get every single thing my heart desires at Christmas.  Because when I am shopping for others, I have this habit of shopping for myself.  "Oh, this is awesome!  One for you, one for me."  I could show you pictures of the 25 Things I Bought for Myself, but that's not the point.  This is:  How much fun it was every day to unwrap a gift that said, "I know you, and I love to delight you."

I love the things I bought for myself (with DW's blessing), but I treasure the things I was given.  Arls gave me a much bigger gift than a Box of Things.  She gave me the lesson that it is more fun to receive than to get for yourself.

I'm thinking of this today as I'm working on the Bible study I'll be teaching January through May on Wednesdays.  Ephesians 1 tells us about the incredible identity and destiny God designed for us from the beginning of time, and how he planned with so much love to give it to us:

Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.

Ephesians 1:4-6 The Message

I am, most days, not so different than I am at Christmas:  I'm so busy going out and getting the things, achievements, attention, affection that I think I need to create a special enough life that I miss the incredibly lavish gift-giving that God is up to.  He is bringing me a life more special that I could ever dream up or provide. He knows me, and he loves to delight me.  The question of faith is:  Do I trust God to bring me the best life I could ever have, or do I feel I need to go out and get it for myself?

This winter and spring on Wednesday mornings, we'll be learning 18 Bible stories of people who could or couldn't wait for God to bring them the life he had promised.  I hope we'll learn to answer the anxious questions, "What makes me special?"  I hope we'll learn that it is so much more fun to receive this life than it is to try to acquire it for ourselves.  Anyway, that's the challenge for me in the new year, and the lesson Arls began teaching me on December 1.

P.S.  #25 was the best gift of all:  these fantastic five, in person.  Also like God:  The best gift of all is his presence.

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!  - Ephesians 3:20 MSG

Happy New Year!  My wish for you and me in 2014 is that we believe the promise of Ephesians 3:20 and receive the life God brings us.  Each day comes bearing its own gifts.  Untie the ribbons.

Hap

Fear, Faith & Dreams that Kill Us

There is a scene in Jurassic Park where we learn how raptors hunt.  The raptor you see is not the one who'll eat you.  While you're standing very still, looking him in his beady eye, the others have snuck up on you from the sides and come in for the kill.

So it was last week that all my focus was on Matt, on getting him on that plane to Cape Town.  On doing it with grace and faith and joy, leaping with no fear.  So for a minute I forgot that I gave birth to two other sons, and I didn't see it coming, the thought that ate me alive, that came out of left field and tore me to shreds :

What if my other boys move away?

Other people's kids have done it.  Dennis and I did it.  Apparently you can survive it.  But for a few days last week, fear told me, "You can't."

In "Life Together", Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes about the danger of "wish dreams."  He is writing about life in the community of believers, but it speaks loudly to me about life in a family:

By sheer grace, God will not permit us to live even for a brief period in a dream world. He does not abandon us to those rapturous experiences and lofty moods that come over us like a dream. God is not a God of emotions but the God of truth. Only that fellowship which faces such disillusionment, with all its unhappy and ugly aspects, begins to be what it should be in God’s sight, begins to grasp in faith the promise that is given to it. The sooner this shock of disillusionment comes to an individual and to a community the better for both.

A community which cannot bear and cannot survive such a crisis, which insists upon keeping its illusion when it should be shattered, permanently loses in that moment the promise of Christian community. Sooner or later it will collapse.

Every human wish dream that is injected into the Christian community is a hindrance to genuine community and must be banished if genuine community is to survive. He who loves his dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial.

God hates visionary dreaming; it makes the dreamer proud and pretentious. The man who fashions a visionary ideal of community demands that it be realized by God, by others, and by himself. He enters the community of Christians with his demands, sets up his own law, and judges the brethren and God Himself accordingly.

He stands adamant, a living reproach to all others in the circle of brethren. He acts as if he is the creator of the Christian community, as if his dream binds men together. When things do not go his way, he calls the effort a failure. When his ideal picture is destroyed, he sees the community going to smash. So he becomes, first an accuser of his brethren, then an accuser of God, and finally the despairing accuser of himself.

Because God has already laid the only foundation of our fellowship, because God has bound us together in one body with other Christians in Jesus Christ, long before we entered into common life with them, we enter into that common life not as demanders but as thankful recipients. We thank God for what He has done for us. We thank God for giving us brethren who live by His call, by His forgiveness, and His promise. We do not complain of what God does not give us; we rather thank God for what He does give us daily.

I realize that I have a wish dream of my own, a vision of my family.  And I am at the center of it.  My wish dream is to have them all here, all doing things together, all coming in and out of the house, all satellites around us.  In my vision, this is a full life.  This is enough.

My wish dream could wreck my family, if I cling to it.  And make me miserable in the process.  Which is why God, in his grace, must shatter my illusion.  She who loves her dream most does not love her children enough.  Worse, does not love her God enough.

You don't have to be a Mom to have this fear.  You might be clinging to a wish dream about your job, or your church, or what kind of house you live in.  I'm not the only one going through this, and I know it from the conversations I'm having.  In my Wednesday morning Bible study yesterday, we talked about faith & fear, and we shook in our boots as we read these words from Hebrews 10:

So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.

36 You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. 37 For,

“In just a little while,

he who is coming will come

and will not delay.”

38 And,

“But my righteous one will live by faith.

And I take no pleasure

in the one who shrinks back.”

39 But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.

Faith, Hebrews 11 goes on to tell us, is what the ancients were commended for.  In the list of those commended for their faith, there are wish-dreamers and schemers.  If you go back and read their stories, God had to say to every one of them, "Do not fear."  Numerous times.  Their wish dreams ended in devastating consequences.  Their schemes failed them.  Their God never did.  They aren't commended for how perfectly they followed Him, but for the fact that they did.  They chose following over fear.  

You cannot stay where you are and go with God. 

- Henry Blackaby, Experiencing God: Knowing & Doing the Will of God

Ok.  Let's go.

The Big Adventure

Wednesday night before last I sat in a storytelling training session with IMB missionary Stephen Stringer.  We learned to tell the story of the rich young ruler.  We chose that story because it speaks to our affinity group, middle class wealthy achievers in Williamson County.  

Jesus says to the young man, "Sell everything you have, take the money and give it to the poor."  And the young man walked away sad, because he was not willing to.

Those were powerfully ringing in my heart last weekend as I watched Matt sell everything he has, and as we unloaded our closets and cabinets, along with friends and family, to have a huge garage sale for him.  It was not sad to part with any of that stuff, because  of what we were working toward.  But it was convicting to watch strangers show up in the dark with trailers to buy all that stuff and haul it home.  Such a contrast: they were acquiring, loading, hoarding, as we were all divesting, unloading, giving away.

I looked in Matt's room last Tuesday and there was all he has left:  two crates with t-shirts, pants, shoes, socks, books all rolled up and packed, a back pack, a computer, a guitar.  Nothing else.  He was camped out here in the room he grew up as a boy, and this weekend he was sleeping on an air mattress in London at Matt & Jamie Hoppe's.  Tomorrow, when he arrives in Cape Town, he'll be camping out in a room at the Team House until he finds a home of his own.  And he's perfectly happy.

I came across these words in Luke 9:

⁵⁷ As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”

⁵⁸ Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

⁵⁹ He said to another man, “Follow me.”

But he replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”

⁶⁰ Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

⁶¹ Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.”

⁶² Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."

Matt was lying on the floor of my study the day before he left and I read him that Luke passage.  Then I told him the rich young ruler story.  But I stopped at vs.  27, where Jesus says it is impossible to do eternal things without God, but with God all things are possible.  Matt took my Bible from me and read verses 28-30:

28 Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”

29 “Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel 30 will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.

"Those are my motivational verses," he said. 

We are not looking back.  We are not sad.  We are ready for his adventure to begin.   Matt is so ready to go.  He is all in.

As I watch what God is doing in my son, I know He is beginning something in me.  He is teaching me how to live the next part of my adventure, which includes two other sons who are having adventures of their own.  There will be more giving up, letting go, stepping out.  There will be more change, every one a challenge to trust and follow into the future God has for all of us, a future we can never dare to ask or imagine.  I could beg to stay right here, but I would miss it all.  

Thank you, Matt, for blazing a trail of faith.  As you follow Jesus into your adventure, I am coming right behind.

Follow Matt on his big adventure and read his story about how it began.  And pray for us!

The Resistance

There is rebellion afoot,
a Resistance
to our gunning engines,
ticking clocks,
our lists, alarms, appointments. 

The green forces -
lemon balm, mint, basil,
the pepper and tomato,
Virginia creeper -
whisper, "Look! I grew
while you were not looking!"

Our children grew, too -
one, four, twelve -
chubby foot soldiers with crayon banners
shouting "Look what I made you!"
while you were making lists.

The campaign of birds
sing, "It is good
to sit for hours on a branch
and glory in the golden morning!"

Every leaf, blade, 
every drop of rain
join forces
in nonviolent protest
against Hurry. 

We are surrounded.
Surrender.

Love and Chicken Casserole

Today was my day to provide dinner for two families from church.  Since they are both going through hard things and need comfort, I knew just what I was going to make for them: Poppyseed Chicken.

We just had Poppyseed Chicken for Mother's Day.  One of my favorite things about Mother's Day and my birthday is that I don't have to cook;  somebody makes food for me.  

I don't know where I learned the equation that food = love.  Possibly from my mother, who is a fantastic cook and made sure that we came home every day of the week to something delicious cooking.  (Exception: liver day.  My dad liked liver & onions, so I guess making that for him was her way of saying I love you, but the only message I associate with liver is, "Eat it, it's good for you." Blegh.  Since I love my husband and he also hates liver, I demonstrate my love by never cooking it.)

Possibly I learned that food = love by summers spent at my great grandmother's farm.  My grandmother was one of six sisters.  In August, they would all bring their kids to the farm.  In Arkansas.  They would get up at the crack of dawn, start frying bacon and rolling biscuits and tossing flour to lay out a full breakfast spread, clean it up and start frying the chicken for lunch.  By mid-afternoon it was 110 degrees in the kitchen.  That was when they would call us in from where we were playing under the big trees outside and make us sit at the kitchen table shelling peas for dinner because it was "too hot to play outside."

I learned to love food and laughter from my family.  I learned to love to cook, especially to cook for those you love.  I believe in the act of measuring and mixing and crumbling and baking to ensure that when the ones you love come home at the end of the long day, they are greeted with the message, "Everything will be okay.  There is comfort here. There is something warm and gooey."  I know that sometimes we just need to stuff something down and get on with our busy lives, but I believe in the servant act of making a mess of your kitchen, cleaning it up and laying a table that says, "You are loved."  And Southern cooks know how to show the love.

Food brought by Southern Baptist women is a good reason to have surgery, or to have a baby or buy a house.  Especially chicken casseroles.  Chicken Divan.  Chicken and rice.  Chicken Tetrazzini.  Chicken Pot Pie, oh my word.  Hot Chicken Salad.  But the winner, hands down, of the food = love contest in the chicken category is Poppyseed Chicken.  It has everything I find comforting in a dish - creamy sauce, buttery cracker topping.  The only thing missing is cheese.  

We had Poppyseed Chicken from Barbara's Home Cooking for Mother's Day.  I do love their recipe.  But I have a really good one from the Blue Willow Inn in Social Hill GA.  (If you love southern cooking, the Blue Willow Inn is Mecca.  You must go there just to eat.  I did.  I once took a bus trip from Atlanta out to Social Hill with a bunch of other Southern Baptist women.  We chartered a bus for the sole purpose of eating at the Blue Willow. And shopping in their gift shop, of course, which is where I purchased the Blue Willow Inn Bible of Southern Cooking. Yes, that is the title.)  

So this morning I got out my Blue Willow Bible and made my list and went to get all the ingredients and spent the morning making a double batch of Poppyseed Chicken.  I recommend you serve it with Uncle Ben's Long Grain & Wild Rice and green beans.  That's what I packed into containers and delivered this afternoon.  And cantaloupe. 

We are not having Poppyseed Chicken for dinner, since we just had it for lunch on Sunday and leftovers on Monday.  We're having pork chops.  But you might want to make Poppyseed Chicken.  Here's the recipe:

Blue Willow Inn Poppyseed Chicken

8   skinless boneless chicken breasts

10 ounces sour cream (not the fat free kind)

2 10-1/2 ounce cans cream of chicken soup

2 10-1/2 ounce cans cream of mushroom soup

2 sleeves Townhouse crackers

3 sticks butter (NOT margarine)

3 tablespoons poppyseeds

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Boil and cube the chicken.  (Alternately, you can buy a Rotisserie Chicken at the store, skin and debone it.  Whichever you find less work and more delicious.)  I do not cube the chicken.  I pull it apart into shredded chunks.  I like that better.

Combine the sour cream, chicken soup and mushroom soup.  Mix well and add the chicken.  Pour into a greased casserole dish.

In another bowl, melt the butter.  Crumble the crackers (not too finely) into the melted butter and mix gently.  Spread the mixture over the top of the casserole.  Sprinkle with poppy seeds.

Cover with foil (to keep the crackers from burning) and bake for 25 minutes.  (If you are taking this casserole to somebody, stop here.  Write down the rest of the directions for them to complete at home.)  If you are making this for yourself (and why not?), remove the foil and bake another 15-20 minutes or until the chicken mixture bubbles around the edges and the crackers are just golden.

Serves 8-10 normal people (6-8 Worleys)

But Jesus...

This afternoon as the rain pours down, I have been reading Peter's story of good intentions, bold declarations and epic failure.  I am so much like Peter – impulsive, bold to start, often missing the point, so often failing in the critical moment. 

But Jesus….

That's my testimony.  For many years, I thought my story was about what I could do for Christ.  More recently I am acutely aware that my testimony is, "But Jesus…"  Over the last 15 years, as I have struggled with cyclical depression, I have come to love the Greek word for resurrection – anastasis – "to stand again."  Every single day, that is what happens to me.  I would be down in that pit. But Jesus…

This Sunday is Easter, and at our church we begin a new sermon series called "Epic Fail." Next week we will talk about Peter, but this week we must talk about Christ. It is his day. As a Messiah, he was disappointing to most of the people of his time. And, as Paul points out in 1 Corinthians 15, if Christ had not been resurrected, he would have been an epic failure. Our faith in him would be useless and we to be pitied.

But Christ has been raised, Paul writes, summing up our hope and our salvation in five explosive words.

But

Christ

has

been

raised...

And then Paul employs an old Hebrew word picture to describe the risen Christ: the firstfruits. The firstfruits were an offering made from the first of your crops that had come in.  The firstfruits were proof that God had kept his promise to provide.  There was new growth, new life, a new crop, the promise of bounty.  The firstfruits offering was a celebration of life.

And Christ has been raised, the firstfruits - the proof that God has kept his promise, that there will be new life, that we will also be raised.

When I was growing up, the preacher always said these words from Romans 6 as he baptized people:  Buried with him by baptism into death, raised to walk in newness of life.

Newness of life is what I need, every day.  Every day I wake up sliding into the pit.  Every day life knocks me down.  But Jesus empowers me to stand again.

It's Easter, and I am depressed. 

But Jesus...

Made like him, like him we rise.  We sing those words every Easter, and when we do, a little chill runs up my spine.  Because one day, we will forever and finally really do it.

There are a lot of people like me who will be in our congregations on Sunday.  I am praying for them as we speak those powerful words that are the Gospel:  But Jesus has been raised.  How different history, and our stories, would be if that were not true.