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. 

Progress?

Just a quick one today. I wanted to update you on the dubious progress we're making on cleaning up the bedroom we've been using for storage.You can read the first post here. I took a picture, but I'm too embarrassed to show you until I have an "after" picture to put next to it. I realize this means I might never show it to anyone because, like I said before, it might never happen.
This is one of those things where it gets worse before it gets better. We've made progress,but you can't tell by looking at the room. (I can tell by how wiped out I am) I still don't know what I'm going to do with all the stuff that's in there and I'm reaching a point where I'm not going to be able to do it all on my own.
Sounds like a lot of things in life, doesn't it? Sometimes progress is almost invisible, we don't know how things will turn out and asking for help is a big key to overcoming challenges.
You might be thinking about how dumb all of this sounds but I bet there are a few who get it. And I guess there's another parallel here. The end result is really important to me so I'm willing to put in the effort it takes to achieve it.
Stay tuned! I hope to have something happy to share before too long.

Roadblocks

I'm going to be totally real with you right now: I'm feeling like a failure this morning. A friend told me last night that someone went to Amazon to get a copy of my novel and there aren't any there. My book has been backlisted. I knew that already, but it was no fun to see the word "unavailable" there next to the picture of my book. This is not unusual. It happens to lots of authors. I still have copies of my novel and it hasn't just disappeared from the world, but it still stings. I'm working hard not to take it personally.
I'm warring with myself this morning. This is one of those times when I want to sit in the road and quit. The roadblock is steep and rocky. I can't see the other side. My metaphorical feet hurt and I'm tempted to give up.
But I won't.
I see lots of work ahead. A bunch of places to go, all of them outside of my cozy little comfort zone. So here I go. I'm pretty sure that if I had to do it on my own I wouldn't be able to. I'm not going to claim that I can just grit my teeth and pick myself up and keep trying. Not without Him anyway.
But Jesus has already acknowledged my bruises and promised to help me up out of the dust.
Just a few minutes ago Beth Moore sent out these two tweets:

Beth MooreVerified account‏@BethMooreLPM

This is how this earthly thing tends to go: we don't turn out to be as awesome as we hoped & Jesus turns out to be better than we believed.

Beth MooreVerified account‏@BethMooreLPM

@BethMooreLPM Personal crisis: looking our un-awesomeness in the eye. If we can deal, we're set for some wild and woolly Jesus-awesomeness.

So I'm trying be excited about what's coming because I know He has a plan. It's going to take work. It's going to take work just to choose not to sit in the road and cry for one minute longer than I should. 

I would  not have chosen this roadblock if I were mapping my path. But I'm not that kind of Author. I know He knows best and with His help I'll put my shoes back on my tired feet and start climbing.

rified accou

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.

Fear Not

Fear Not

I can't believe January is almost over. Time does seem to be speeding by, but still we're at the start of a new year. New beginnings, new promises, new goals: that's January. This year I've set a goal, too. Typing these words is just a small part of that. If you're reading this then you probably already know that I'm a writer. I've published one book so far and I am working on the second. My first book, The Valley Without Her, (you can find it here) was fun and easy to write. 
The, as yet untitled, book I'm working on now is not easy and not really much fun to write. But I'm done with whining and worrying and one of my main goals for this year is to finish my book. It will have a title and everything!
So a few weeks ago I wrote this post on my author page on facebook and I'm sharing it here. It's some accountability for me, yes, but maybe you're holding on to your security blanket, too and it will help you to know there's someone else out there who's scared to try.

 Last week my pastor spoke about facing our fears in 2016. He pointed out how Linus dropped his security blanket while quoting Luke 2 right at the moment he said "fear not". I was convicted. So I'll put down the blanket: I'm going to finish my story. I keep saying that I'm not as confident in this one. It's too short. People might hate it. People say they're going to read it but they never do and that's disappointing. These are all lame excuses that don't excuse me from anything. I don't want to be like the wicked servant Jesus talked about in His parable in the 18th chapter of Matthew. I don't want to bury my gift, even if it's small. Not for my readers, not for myself, but for Him I will face my fears and write the story.