Resurrection

"By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures." Proverbs 24:3

Lent, though a time for lament and repentance, holds such beauty in the life of a believer. In this time of seeking out areas of our heart that need cleansing and renewal, the Lord meets us in such sweet ways. He has shown me the rooms of my heart with news eyes. He has opened my mind to understand places in my heart that were unclear before this season. He faithfully walked with me into the shrine that I had set up to man's praise and showed me the alter I had constructed on which I sacrificed anything to get people to like me. He opened up dusty boxes of fear, lies, and emotions and cradled each of these in his tender hands. For me, Lent was a time of walking into the darkness with the Light of the world.  

And then Easter came.

Not coincidentally, I was with some of the people who most help me to experience abundant life on Easter Sunday. I traveled to Greenville, Illinois with the precious Abby Brown to visit some dear people from college whom I had not seen in over a year. While I was there, each person I encountered (even people I met for the first time) welcomed me into their lives and showed me love so uniquely. This time with these people made me come alive. Praise God for His tangible gifts that reflect the inner movement of the heart! Truly, this Easter, I experienced the Resurrection in a new way. When God cleans out the junk in your heart, leaving seeming emptiness, He also increases your capacity to receive life and love.

Upon returning from Illinois, a certain house in the Park Ridge Community in Knoxville caught my attention. On a street lined with Victorian style homes restored to their former beauty, this house hides shyly behind a giant tree, veiling itself from the critical eyes of those passing by. The home needs paint, and seems tired from years of wear. But there are curtains in the window and furniture on the side porch and a ladder stretching along the side of the house--signs of life.

This house whispers hope and restoration  through the sun-speckled leaves. Despite its past, and its state of disrepair, its owners saw beauty and began the process of renovation. This process will take a long time, maybe even years, but life is being lived inside of this house. Light shines in its doors and windows, and the dirt and grime of the past is being scrubbed away.

It's no wonder this house caught my attention, for my heart and soul are experiencing a similar renovation in this Easter season. I praise God that in His wisdom He restores me because He "made His light shine in [my] heart to give [me] the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:6

Boxes and Rooms

Boxes and Rooms

Revelation 3:20

If any man opens...

I have a can opener that is so dull it is basically useless. The slender metal handles open like scissors and two round disks clamp the rim of the can. The top disk is smooth and sharp--meant to puncture the can--while the bottom disk has grooves like a gear to create traction as you twist a rectangular crank, similar to a wind up toy. Such a practical design, but it has one flaw, the can opener is at least fifteen years old. Fifteen years of slicing through tin renders it essentially useless. Each time I open a can of beans or corn or some kind of veggie, let's just say, the struggle is real.

A can seems impossibly impenetrable without something to pierce the metal that protects and preserves its contents. So it is with my heart.

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.

I was sitting in church three Sundays before Christmas with my forehead resting on my knees in confession. This week, acute awareness of how vulnerable I felt overwhelmed me. Part of this was exhaustion from ending my first semester as a teacher, another part was that my grandmother had passed away the day before, and another part of it was that the LORD chose to intervene in my life.

He gently whispered that he stood at the door of my heart knocking and waiting to come in. 

It was in that moment that I realized He had been knocking for a long time, but in my pride I wanted to tidy up a bit before I let Him in. But now, I could not hold out any longer. Too many things crowded in corners and hid in boxes. Cobwebs and dust accumulated. The darkness of those rooms I lived in kept smirking at my attempts to shine a flashlight and chase it away. In my vulnerability, I finally saw all of this clearly. So I opened the door.

Opening that door felt like opening a can with my worn and weary can opener. Choosing openness and exposure requires strength and perseverance, and over the next few weeks, the LORD gently reminded me that I was slamming the door again and again. He would then wait patiently while I opened it back up and let Him in. 

If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with Me.

Slowly but surely, God would ask to come into the various rooms of my heart where I had boxes of emotion, pain, fear, and desire locked away in darkness. He gently asked me for each box and opened it with me. The things that I saw reminded me why I had shut these things up and cut them off. But I have such a good Father who loves me so much that right there on the floor in the dirt with ugliness strewn all over the floor, he set a table for us and we ate. I tasted the sweetness of His presence and savored the flavor of His peace. What rest I found in dining with my King.

And of course, I tried to clean up, as always. I wanted to organize and purge and dust and mop. 

But yesterday, the Lord reminded me of this: 

Hannah, the only way you are going to find yourself is through Me. I am the Source of life. Stop looking at the boxes and rooms and look at Me. I have come to dwell with you--yes, to live with you always. Do not worry about the things that you have hidden and that I am bringing to light. Surrender them to Me. Allow Me to do work. All I am asking of you is that you seek Me more and more. Allow Me to do the renovating and renewing. I covet your mess that I may transform you.

I realized that I had been living in a dark hallway and looking at the Lord through a tiny peep hole in the door. But now that I have let Him in, I can know Him in a fuller way, and that is the goal, not me getting my act together.

Prayers appreciated :)

He is wooing you from the jaws of distress to a spacious place free from restriction, to the comfort of your table laden with choice foods. Job 36:16

Sidewalk: hope in unexpected places

The past few months of my life have been challenging, heart wrenching, beautiful, hopeful, painful, exhausting, fun, hilarious, and hard. As a teacher, I have learned far more than I ever did as a student. But this growth came through those tough moments when all I could see was the ways that I screwed up. But as for me I will always have hope. 

One day driving home from school exhausted and discouraged, I saw something that gave me hope--sunlight. I captured the above image while waiting at a stoplight. It was such an ordinary place, but the light still shone down on the crumbling pavement outside my window. Beauty transcended brokenness.

These few stumbling words explain more:

Sidewalk

Orbs drifting through blades

of grass--

remnants of

that celestial light,

that sapphire sky

clear 

as water sitting still

after dust, pebbles, algae

settle.

Flares float

above

white styrofoam and

a muddy sock

nestled in chaos:

weeds sprawling across

cracked cement.

Shadows sketch 

rough lines on asphalt--

an untrained artist

hiding flaws with inky darkness.

But sky and air and light,

these wash the world with clarity,

through a lens 

Uncapped, 

Unblinking, 

Untarnished.

Words and the Intangible

Ars Poetica

by Archibald MacLeish

A poem should be palpable and mute

As a globed fruit,

Dumb

As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone

Of casement ledges where the moss has grown--

A poem should be wordless 

As the flight of birds.

           *

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases

Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves

Memory by memory the mind--

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs.

           *

A poem should be equal to:

Not true.

For all the history of grief

An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love

The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea--

A poem should not mean

But be.

Words and the Intangible

"Why do we have to know this?" This is the question that every high school student wants to know when we start reading A Vindication of the Rights of Women or Macbeth. What they don't know is that question haunts me, their teacher, as well. 

Why do we have to know about these works that were written hundreds of years ago? I have been struggling with this question for a while, because how can I help students love English if I cannot pinpoint exactly why I love it, and why my heart overflows with joy when I read perfectly paired words?

So many questions, and the answer kept escaping my grasp. But yesterday I caught it. The answer glowed in my palms like a lightning bug at dusk. 

Literature, words, stories--these make the intangible tangible. Those things that we cannot grab or touch, those things that we know are real but cannot rub between our fingertips. These are the things that rest in our palms when we hold a book. The intangible becomes real through printed words because we can run our hands over the porcelain pages stained with inky letters. 

Not only this, but authors use this thing called "imagery," the art of creating a real image in the reader's mind. In "Ars Poetica," the poem above, the author makes vivid images for the reader that symbolize universal feelings we often cannot express. My favorite is grief being linked to the emptiness of a doorway and a lone maple leaf. I also enjoy the images of love being like two blades of grass swaying together in the sunlight and wind or like two lighthouses communicating back and forth in the darkness of night.

Love and grief, among other intangible things, find substance in literature, or any form of art for that matter. But what really made my heart skip a beat was when I realized that human emotion was not the only intangible thing to be made tangible through words.

Another Word actually took on human flesh and lived among his people. Jesus Christ came to make God Almighty tangible, a God who His people had a very hard time understanding and knowing. So Jesus actually make Himself into something physical, something we could grasp and understand. Through the Word, we have been reconciled to God!

I am always amazed at the ways in which literature reflects and flows from our great God. My heart rejoices that He has come and been made like us so that we can know Him! Rejoice with me today!

Hospitality & Hope

There are things I can barely manage to hope for, perhaps that is why this story sunk into the dry places.

A man, who lived very long ago, who traveled much. Once he stopped in a town where he happened to meet a rich woman who invited him to dinner. After their first meal together, she welcomed him to come to her and her husband's home whenever he passed through the area.
The next time the man came through he stopped at the couple's home. While their stomachs filled with food, their conversations dwelled on a God who extends endless mercy to His people. Then the man traveled on his way, but he returned again a few weeks later. In fact, he stopped so frequently that the woman went to her husband with a request, "I know that this man who often comes our way is a holy man of God. Let's make a small room on the roof...then he can stay there whenever he comes with us." Because her husband loved her, and they had no children, he allowed her to open their home to the man.

One day when the man was staying in his room, he called his hostess to come to him. He said to her, "You have gone to all this trouble for [me]. Now what can be done for you?"

But she replied that she needed nothing.

She went away, but her guest called her back again, pondering, "What can be done for her?" When she returned he said, "About this time next year, you will hold a son in your arms."

But the woman responded by saying, "'No, my lord,' she objected,. 'Don't mislead your servant!'"
How could he have known the deepest desires of her soul? Why did he draw out the things she dared not even hope for?
                                                                           
A year later, the young woman held a baby boy in her arms, just as Elisha had told her.
                                                                               
                                                                              ******

Some time later, this very same son died. But this time the woman's hope, bolstered by a promise fulfilled, went to Elisha. She spoke not a single word of his death to anyone, for her hope was steadfast even in the face of her great fear and uncertainty.
But when she saw Elisha, and he alone discerned her deep distress, she crumbled, "Did I ask you for a son, my lord? Didn't I tell you 'Don't raise my hopes'?"

But little did she know that God was about to display great power.

Elisha went back with her to her son and after he prayed for her son, he returned to life!

                                                                              ******

The beauty of this story lies in its simple beginning--sharing a meal with a stranger. The woman was faithful to the small task the Lord placed before her that day that she met Elisha. She invited him home to share life with her and her husband. She welcomed him into her life. Because she used the unique gift of hospitality that God granted her, not only did she gain a lifelong friend, but God blessed her immensely.

As I talked about this story with one of my friends, I became aware of how wonderful the gifts of the Spirit are. For He uses us not only to bring Him immense glory (hello, a kid was brought back to life!), but as an added bonus He throws in blessings for us too.

In confidence of this, we can walk forward into the good works God has prepared in advance for us to do (Eph 2:10) hoping in the glory that will be revealed in our cracked and leaky vessels and that God will satisfy the deepest desires of our hearts, even the ones we haven't quite realized yet.

The Dinner Party

He is wooing you from the jaws of distress to a spacious place free from restriction, to the comfort of your table laden with choice food. Job 36:16

A feast is set before a handful of guests. They wait in apprehension of the exotic dishes that their hosts have whispered of over the past few months. But the two sisters seated at their own crude wooden table do not realize that they are about to become the guests at a feast of delights more bountiful than they ever fathomed. With a simple prayer, pronounced warily, the feast begins. They eye the blood-red wine and succulent fruits with suspicion, but with the first bite and an explosion of flavor, their faces light up. With each course their moods brighten and their spirits lift. The servant boy continues to place before them new and curious dishes, but the host remains unseen. She slaves in the kitchen working for the beloved sisters and their community, to provide for them not only sweet sustenance, but peace and unity as well. 

This is the story of a French cook who gave everything for those she loved. But "Babette's Feast" also mirrors another story reflected in our own souls.

Several days ago, I was reading Job 36:16. The beauty of this image and it's striking parallel to Isak Dinesen's parable overwhelmed me. The Lord began to speak to my heart. The worry and anxiety that had built up in my heart and mind over the past semester began to dissipate. The questions that rattled around inside of me quickly grew quiet, and peace comforted my soul.

The Lord has sent me an invitation this year. He invites me daily to His table. I am seated and waiting. I do not know what each course will be; in fact, I know that some of the things He places before me will be new and strange to my palate at first. But all He asks is that I lift the fork to my mouth to taste. The food He gives will be just what I need to sustain me. Some dishes will be bitter and some incredibly sweet, but I want to receive and enjoy them all because they are from Him, the Lover of my soul. 

I am not alone at this table. He invites us all to dine and feast upon Him. Join me at the comfort of His table that together we may taste and see that the Lord is good!!!

to grandmother's house we go

Often a meal never lasts long enough for my taste. I linger with friends and family around a table wishing the flavors would continue to erupt on my tastebuds and the laughter would carry on until my face cramps from smiles.

But the foods themselves remain. I'm not talking about that moldy bread sitting on the counter.... I mean the recipes that one generation passes to the next. So satisfying is the feeling of biting into one of my grandmother's sweet treats and instantly being transported to her kitchen with the tacky daisy wallpaper and flower pots with flourishing plants. 

So here's to Grandmom. All of these recipes are in honor of her!

Grandmom's Brownies

Ingredients:

2 c sugar

¼ c cocoa

1 c butter (melted)

4 eggs (beaten)

2 t vanilla

1 ½ c flour

1 t salt

Preheat 375. Mix sugar & cocoa. Stir in melted butter. Add beaten eggs & vanilla. Beat well. Sift together flour and salt. Add cocoa mixture. Pour into greased casserole dish. Bake for 25 minutes.

Icing:

½ box powdered sugar

¼ c evaporated milk

3 T butter

3 T cocoa powder

Combine all ingredients. If too thick add more ev. Milk, if too thin more pow. Sugar.

Grandmom's Cinnamon Rolls

Ingredients:

2 pkg yeast (2 ¼ t)

¼ c warm water

1T sugar

1 c oil

½ c sugar

2 c boiling water

2 eggs

6 ½ c self-rising flour (try adding more till dough not quite as sticky)

3 T butter, melted

½ c sugar

1 ½ t cinnamon

Dissolve yeast in warm water; add 1 T sugar & set aside. Combine oil & sugar, add boiling water & mix till cools. Beat in eggs. Add risen yeast mixture. Add flour & mix well. Cover in bowl for 45 min or till double. Punch down. (can refrigerate at this point if want to)

To make rolls: roll dough flat on WELL floured surface. Melt butter & spread with melted butter. Mix cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle on top of rolled out buttered dough. Roll dough into long roll (roll long ways & can cut in half to make more manageable). Slice in ½ inch segments. Place in GREASED, round CAKE pans. Bake at 375 for 20-30 min.

Icing:

2 c powdered sugar

3 T milk

2  t vanilla

Mix till thick but still runs off spoon slowly.