Monday, May 31, 2010

2 Years Ago Today


On May 31, 2008, Benjamin asked me to marry him.

Just before proposing, he gave me a black book, with this written in it:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.

This is one huge thing that the Lord has been teaching me... Problems, issues, everything in this world will pale in comparison to Christ Jesus, when we see His beauty. I want to be a means of that for you. I see it in Ephesians 5. By grace, the Holy Spirit, Lord willing, will use me to make you more holy, to sanctify you, to wash you with the water of the word. I pray that the Lord will allow me to be the kind of influence on your life that helps you...

"See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us that we would be called children of God; and such we are."

And from two years later, I can say, Benjamin...

You have.

Laboring Well

I've been thinking lately about what it is to labor well and be faithful in work. It troubles me to see how pervasive a "slacker" mentality is reaching, even in Christian circles and even in my own heart.

I've been reading through Ephesians lately, and Eph 6:5-8 stands out to me:
Slaves, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the sincerity of your heart, as to Christ, not by way of eyeservice as men-pleasers, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart. With good will render service, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that whatever good thing each one does, this he will receive back from the Lord, whether slave or free.
Elisabeth Elliot has a meditation called "The Gift of Work" in her Keep a Quiet Heart. Here is a helpful portion:
Wouldn't it make an astounding difference, not only in the quality of the work we do (in office, schoolroom, factory, kitchen, or backyard), but also in our satisfaction, even our joy, if we recognized God's gracious gift in every single task, from making a bed or bathing a baby to drawing a blueprint or selling a computer? If our children saw us doing "heartily as unto the Lord" all the work we do, they would learn true happiness. Instead of feeling that they must be allowed to do what they like, they would learn to like what they do. (101)

Monday, May 17, 2010

Two Brief Good-byes

Here is a post from Justin Taylor's blog. I didn't know Zac Smith. But I did know Mary Pearson and have been praying for her and (still am) for her family.

Zac Smith and Mary Pearson Didn't Waste Their Cancer

Zac Smith is with Jesus. He fought the good fight of faith. He finished the race. He kept the faith. He’s entered into the joy of his Master. He didn’t waste his life, and he didn’t waste his cancer.

Here’s the video he made several months ago:

The Story of Zac Smith from NewSpring Media on Vimeo.


Please also remember in your prayers the family of Mary Pearson, wife of Desiring God board member Mitch Pearson and mother of four.

Jon Bloom writes:
O God, thank you for the life of Mary Pearson. Thank you especially that you gave her new life. Thank you for delivering her from the domain of darkness and transferring her to the kingdom of your beloved Son (Colossians 1:13), which she is now experiencing in a measure that just a few short hours ago she could not have even imagined. And have mercy on her precious husband and children. Sustain them as they endure the painful amputation of her presence and the difficult road ahead.

And, Father, we want your Son, Jesus, to return and bring all these tears and pain and death to an end. May it be soon! In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8).

As Justin says, Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

For My Mom

Mother's Hands

They were the hands that brushed my coarse red mane
And wove the sections into tidy braids while I squirmed.
They fed the cloth into chewing teeth of the sewing machine
To stitch together my favorite Easter dress, blue with tiny peach flowers.
And tucked little pieces of Kleenex behind each hot curler
So it wouldn’t burn my ear.

Those fingers probed my swollen, angry thumb where the splinter had lodged.
Cool hands smoothed back sticky strands of hair from a flushed forehead
And held the straw in lukewarm 7-Up to sip.
Those hands didn’t shake
When they poured the sweet, sticky Triminic into a spoon.
Didn’t shake even when the doctor brought bad news.

Mom’s hands pounded and pressed smooth, elastic dough,
Forming tender bundles into loaves, side by side to rise,
With one small lump left to snuggle in my little pan.
Like magic, those hands could crack an egg and slip the yolk
Back and forth, back and forth, saving the white
For my angel food cake, a doll dress cake, with ribbons of frosting.

Her hands loved the clean of a fresh, straight sheet
With the corners folded and tucked like a tidy envelope.
They rubbed the rag on the mirror until it squeaked like a chick
And probed every ceiling corner with her long, fuzzy duster,
Stalking down the sticky strands of silky spider webs.

Her hands loved the dirt of a fresh tilled patch,
Tucking small green tendrils into damp, dark soil.
She didn’t hate the spider with the long, long legs,
Daddy-long-legs are our friends, she would say with a smile.

Her fingers traced the page in her open-spread Bible,
Held the notebook with its worn, crinkled pages
Where she wrote her prayers for us in soft, curling letters.
She’d press her fingers together when she tried to remember
That one next phrase in the passage on the notecard.

They’d spank us too, those hands of our mother,
With a short wooden spoon from her purse or the dresser.
Or set us on the chair to think until the timer beeped.
But they’d always hug us back and press our head to her shoulder,
And rub in slow circles until the shaking crying slowed.

Those hands were busy from the first song of morning,
Pouring milk on Cheerios and zipping jackets tight.
And they met us in the parking lot on carpool days
On the wide steering wheel of our big station wagon.
Mother’s hands were busy from the first song of morning,
Until they tucked us in like a snug little bug in a rug
And framed our faces for a soft kiss good-night.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

A New Affection

In the book Total Church, Tim Chester and Steve Timmis write,
I love being married, but I love being married because it unites me with my wife. In the same way, I love the gospel, but I love the gospel because it unites me with my Savior. We are not saved by principles or strategies but by a person.
They also point us to consider the sermon by Thomas Chalmers, "The Expulsive Power of a New Affection."