Bought Debt

If you're like me you enjoy learning new things. A couple of days ago I learned that there is a translation of the Bible called "The Geneva Bible" that was an English translation predating the King James. I'd heard of this Bible before, but I thought the person who mentioned it was severely confused. Turns out it's a real thing. Now I know. Last week I learned that my dentist and his staff are really, really good at that game with the mouthpiece where you have to guess what your teammate is saying. They get a lot of practice with that one.

Some things aren't as much fun to learn. Sometimes learning something new leaves us feeling disappointed and disgusted. For example, I recently learned that there are companies out there that literally purchase outstanding debt. Did you know this? I had no idea this happened until someone told me about it. It's pretty gross, actually.  These companies exploit the misfortunes of others. Sure, some have made unwise decisions and of course people should pay what they owe. It doesn't matter how you look at it, it still seems merciless. What these companies do is contact lenders with offers to take on the claims of people who have outstanding debts. They buy the balance for a fraction of the deficit and then they wait. Periodically, I suppose, they check the borrower's credit  until he or she has a high enough score. They then contact the borrower and threaten to take them to court if they don't pay. It seems pretty rotten to me.
But strangely enough it also reminds me of Jesus.
There sits my debt: a long list of wrongs. Every boast. Every ugly word. Every time I choose self over righteousness; my name justly scrawled at the bottom of the mess in indelible ink. I deserve the penalty- to be eternally separated from God. I could never live with Him in paradise while bearing my sinful heart. I also have no means of paying. On my own I have no hope.Today is Good Friday. 2,000 years ago Jesus endured unspeakable suffering in order to buy our debt. Yours and mine and everyone else's, ever. In one outrageous act, He reclaimed our deficit. I will dramatically understate by saying, however, that He did not merely pay a fraction of the cost. The price of our debt was His precious, sinless, blood. Because of the perfection of the price, the payment was absolute. Every person, ever, has had his or her debt purchased by the Son of God.  1 Peter tells us that Jesus died one time and for each of us; that He invaded death and hell (Revelation 1:18) and ascended to heaven with all authority. That means that He doesn't go back to the cross every time a new believer is ready to accept Him. He doesn't have to go to the enemy to reclaim every sin-list, because the sin of the world was laid on His sinless shoulders on that first Good Friday. Like the debt collector, Jesus already owns the debt, and is waiting. Like the debt collector He peruses us.Unlike the debt collector, He is not waiting for us to be able to pay Him back because He knows that will never happen.  Unlike the debt collector when we acknowledge that, yes and that is our debt, that we are in fact guilty, when we accept His gift and begin our new life with Him, He shows us that He's written His own name in place of ours.  Forgiven. Paid in Full. It is Finished.

Name Calling

Drop off/pick up time at my son's preschool is usually pretty uneventful, but one morning offered a small adventure.
I was getting back into my car when I noticed a little white dog running around the parking lot.  A lady was trying unsuccessfully to coax him back into her car so a few of the other preschool parents and I tried to help herd him over to her.

We called to him, whistled, and tried to corral him. He was having none of our directions but heaps of fun. It was a glorious game for the little white dog.
"What's his name?" I asked the self-conscious handler of the naughty dog.
She smiled at me apologetically. 
"Chase" was her amusing answer.
I think about names often. Naming characters, for me, is one of the hardest things about story writing. I work in a library and I'm always looking up names of patrons to process their transactions and it's fun to see how many "Susans" or how few "Scarlets" there are in the Evergreen program.
I think one of the reasons names hold fascination for me is that my name (except, perhaps, for the spelling) is so very ordinary. Just today I came across at least two people with the same name as me.  Having the same name as so many others makes me feel common and uninteresting sometimes. It's silly, I know.
But there is one thing about my name that I love: the meaning. My name means "beloved" and like Chase the mischievous dog, it fits. Not because I'm especially charming or adorable or anything, but because of The One who goes by many, many names. Here are just a few:

Adonai

Creator
Savior

Abba

Comforter

Father

Spirit

Jesus

I am loved beyond comprehension by Him. 
And so are you.
 He takes away our orphan status and calls us sons. No matter how ordinary, rejected, unworthy or forgotten we feel we are His Beloved. 
Check out this very exciting, mysterious verse from Revelation. This was the passage was the message of a recent sermon at church and I've been thinking of it ever since:


Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.                                                                       Revelation 2:17


Maybe others have given you names. The enemy sure has. Maybe you've given even yourself some. I know how that feels. Hello My Name is...Ugly? Weird? Irrelevant? Ordinary? I've worn all those names and more on my lapel. 
But no one has the authority to tell us who we are except the One who created us. Not even ourselves.
 Our Father is going to give us a new name. Something special that tells us what we really are to him. I don't really understand  all that this verse means and I certainly have no idea what sort of new name Jesus would have for us, but I know one thing: While, like Chase the dog, our name will suit us, our new name will not be one of the  soul-killing, untrue labels we've  worn here on earth. Our name will not be "Ordinary" because we are extraordinarily loved. 

Useless Weapons

I've been thinking a lot lately about the value people put on appearances. More to my point, I've been thinking a lot about the things people are willing to do to get what they want. Identity is important. Status...not so much. It's especially upsetting to me when it comes to believers. We're all sinners and every one of us has a sinful heart that wants to be selfish. But it seems that there are some who are more intentional about their disobedience. When it's not just a bad habit, but a strategy. 

Human beings have always used little tricks and gimmicks to get what they want. How about intimidation? Temper and abuse are effective tools for sending others scurrying out of one's way. On the other side of the spectrum is charm. It may be bogus, duplicitous, conditional, and totally insincere, but it achieves a dual payoff: getting one's way and stroking one's ego. The manipulations are probably endless. Whining, bribing, guilt-tripping, snubbing, flattering, and belittling. We humans have found ways of avoiding discomfort and accountability.

Like I said, there are payoffs to these acts of selfishness and dishonesty. But there is a huge downside. While it feels good in the moment, ill-gotten victories are cheap and temporary. But much, much graver, these tricks do not work on God.

A prominent atheist was once asked what he would do if he found himself face-to-face with the Creator he so vehemently denied. He said that he would ask Him, "Why did you take such pains to hide yourself?"

I  promise you that when he passed away in 1970, he met God and yet did not ask that question. All of our favorite little weapons that have been so effective in manipulating our brothers and sisters? We won't even think of trying them on God. Though I honestly believe that there are people who have this plan. 

God will not be intimidated by your anger. He will not cower at your temper. He will not wink at your sin because you're just so gosh-darn cute. He will not rush to soothe your whining or be abashed at your scolding. You will not out-think, out-talk, interrupt, or confuse Him. Neither will I. We won't even consider it when we stand before Him and His indescribable holiness and glory. Remember when Moses questioned God? Job? To put it mildly, they did not come out the victors of those conversations. Frankly, I think I would faint with terror if God said to me "Brace yourself like a man;I will question you, and you shall answer me." 

Remember that part near the middle of "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" when the four children are making plans with The Beavers? Edmond, having already been deceived and poisoned by the White Witch, asked a question. 

   "She won't turn him into stone, too?" said Edmond.

   "Lord love you, Son of Adam, what a simple thing to say!" answered Mr. Beaver with a great laugh. "Turn him into stone? If she can stand on her own two feet and look him in the face it'll be the most she can do and more than I expect of her."

Yes, Jadis had power. She was a witch who made it winter for over 100 years. "Always winter and never Christmas". She turned the beloved Mr. Tumnus, and many others, to stone. She had gained fear, respect, and in some cases even devotion from the Narnians. These temporary victories caused her to greatly overestimate her power. The White Witch (though she knew she was no match for Aslan, that Aslan had no match) still dared to challenge him. She lost. 

We, too, will lose if we dare to think that our ludicrous, petty, human weapons will silence God. We may feel we are a powerful, victorious Queen Jadis, turning people to stone if they get in our way, but don't be deceived. Standing on our own two feet and looking Him in the face is the most we will do and more than I expect of us. 

Hope and Home

This morning at breakfast while discussing possible plans for the day I made a bold statement. "I think I might try and clean up the cold room today."
We call it the cold room because we only use it for extra storage so we don't have the heat on in there. It gets chilly in the winter. I've cleaned it before, but like in all catch-all areas the clutter multiplies.
So far this morning I've accomplished sorting through the boys' clothes. Until today we've been using the closet in that room for their clothes. If you know my boys you understand why. We'll see how it goes.
Anyway, It feels good to get organized.I'd really like to have it a little more usable. Maybe a chair and a desk and a quiet place to read or write with a cup of tea.  I still have a long way to go before it's "done". Every time I complete an organization project like this one I tell Keith the same thing.
"When I organize a part of our house like that I feel like I'm un-cluttering a part of my brain."
I think women especially feel a soulful connection with their homes. I believe we're all created with a longing for something this world cannot satisfy. Like a phantom pain we remember that there's something more. There are things that hint at it. Just little whispers of heaven. Like when the four of us have been in four different locations during the day, but then we're all sitting around the table together at suppertime. Just a taste of the completeness we'll experience in heaven.
I am looking forward to having a nice room to enjoy. But the truth is, it might not happen. Even if I do find a place to arrange all the mess, I don't know if I'll have the necessary odds and ends to bring about my little sanctuary room. I hope, but I don't know.
What I do know is that while I may never get my temporary home to be anything like what I wish it would be, I have an unimaginably better realer home waiting for me in heaven. Only that home is eternal. It won't have any messy closets or dust-bunnies.

Jesus knew better than anyone what it was like to be homesick. He knew we would sometimes feel bereft. So He made a promise.

1“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God ; believe also in me. 2 My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. 4 You know the way to the place where I am going.”

I don't just hope it happens I know it will. So much better than a chair and a cup of tea.

A Big Lie

  One morning in Sunday School we talked about heaven. We read through several scriptures that tell us a little about what heaven will be like.  Although we can't really imagine how beautiful and happy and holy it will be, there's one thing that we can be certain of . Heaven will not be boring. But, this is a cultural thing we've seen over and over. Just sitting on clouds, playing harps, wearing robes. Sure the scenery will be eye-pleasing but on the whole, it's a big yawn-fest. Didn't Mark Twain say, "Go to heaven for the climate and hell for the company."?  How sad.  What a huge, horrible, ugly lie. And it isn't just limited to what heaven and hell are like. We're surrounded by this sort of thing all the time. There's this great big lie that people fall for all day every day. The idea that the devil is all about pleasure and God is all about self-denial.
 It just isn't true.
 C.S. Lewis talks about this at length in his book "The Screwtape Letters". I've posted an excerpt here about how God is the one who loves when we find bliss in His creation. Screwtape and Wormwood are sickened by it.

“He’s a hedonist at heart. All those fasts and vigils and stakes and crosses are only a facade. Or only like foam on the sea shore. Out at sea, out in His sea, there is pleasure, and more pleasure. He makes no secret of it; at His right hand are ‘pleasures for evermore.’

Ugh! I don’t think He has the least inkling of that high and austere mystery to which we rise in the Miserific Vision. He’s vulgar, Wormwood. He has a bourgeois mind. He has filled His world full of pleasures.

There are things for humans to do all day long without His minding in the least– sleeping, washing, eating, drinking, making love, playing, praying, working. Everything has to be twisted before it’s any use to us. We fight under cruel disadvantages. Nothing is naturally on our side.”

    The enemy wants you to believe that he's the ultimate party-planner, free-spirit and God is a massive wet blanket Who h a t e s it when we have any fun at all, but that's malarkey. If the devil could get us to make bad decisions without offering any sort of pleasure he would do it. The little bit of good-feeling that we get out of doing something we shouldn't? I imagine the devil resents it. Pleasure was God's invention. His idea. This idea that the devil likes it when we indulge ourselves? That he's the one who thinks of ways for us to enjoy, enjoy, enjoy? Wrong.
 He thinks of ways for us to destroy ourselves. He takes great big soul-killing decisions and paints them with the thinnest possible layer of gratification. We would never fall for it otherwise. If he told families to hate and disrespect one another they would close ranks and defend their loved ones. But take a popular sitcom, make the kids smarter than their lame parents, throw in a hefty dose of glamorized bad choices, sprinkle it with some cynical zingers and wrap it all up in laughter and it's an insidious poison. Poison that makes it seem like a good idea to disrespect your family. Poison that tastes like comedy. See the lie? Laughter is God's idea. Laughter is a very good thing. And it is used ALL THE TIME to help us ingest garbage.
The examples go on and on. Everything from gossip to lying to sexual sin, Underneath the destructive act is something that God created for our pleasure and His glory. We do it to feel better about ourselves? Self-worth is a good thing that God wants for us. We do it because we want others to accept us? Fellowship is a good thing that God encourages. But the devil wants us to go about getting these things in a sinful, empty, way. He wants us to choose the parody over the gift.
If the devil could get away with it, he would have us turn our backs on God completely without us getting any enjoyment out of it all. But God is honored when we hear birds sing and our spirits are lifted. When we sigh with contentment to rest after a trying day? God is glorified. There's not much the devil can do about how our awareness of God is impacted by His creation. The devil knows that pleasure belongs to God and I think he uses it against us begrudgingly. But it's a very useful weapon. The devil would not use pleasure if he didn't have to, but if it gets people to worship the created instead of the Creator, he'll do it.

Rhinestone Legacy

Rhinestone Legacy

I think I was eleven or twelve. My mom and I went out to eat at The Galley. Those were the good old days when we had one close by. We were greeted by the adorable hostess, Pat and her warm, enthusiastic smile. I don't know if she was naturally super short, like me, or if she was one of those old ladies that sort of shrunk with age. It didn't matter, because she was as sweet a person you would ever want to meet and bursting with personality. 
I think the thing that stood out to me most about Pat was the pin on her lapel. She was one of those ladies who liked lots of jewelry, but there was one piece that drew my eye. It was a rather large rhinestone thing that spelled out a word in careful cursive. Jesus. How simple. How bold. This dear woman proudly wore her Savior's name right there on her shoulder for everyone to see. I admired her gentle testimony. I wanted her to know. “I like your pin” I told her. She smiled. I think she said something grandmotherly, “thank you, honey,” and she seated us so we could enjoy our meal. 
We didn't eat out often, but eventually we came around again. Mom and me and The Galley. Again Pat was there to bless and smile at us. Again she wore her Jesus pin. Again I told her I liked it, but this time she didn't thank me. Pat remembered me and asked me if I were “that little girl that liked her pin before.” I told her, yes, that was me, and she did something amazing. Pat took the pin off of her shirt and held it out to me. I hadn't noticed, but this pin was smaller than the one she had worn before. It was for me. She had bought another one and worn it waiting for me to come back. I was so touched. What a lovely thing to do.
And yes, I still have my pin. I took it out to look at it when I was reminded of this gift last week. My lovely, quirky, friend doesn't need her pin anymore because now she has the Real Thing. I didn't get to attend her funeral, but I was told that she was laid to rest with her Jesus pin on her lapel. I really didn't know her well at all, but it doesn't matter. I am a small part of her legacy. Pat is a beautiful reminder that our witness for Christ doesn't have to be something loud or extreme. For me her legacy is a warm hug, a sweet smile and a rhinestone pin. I love you, Pat. Not even in my wildest imagination can I picture your reward.