Happy Halloween (this blessed my socks off)

This year, Ben decided he wanted to pull our little fire ring to the front driveway and have hot cider, brownies, and candy out front so we could connect with neighbors on Halloween.

As we were bustling around getting ready, Victor came up to me.

"Mom, I wrote a little history of Halloween with the gospel in it. Do you want to print some off and we could attach it to candy for trick-or-treaters?"

Here's what he wrote:

The origin of Halloween:

 

Halloween is considered a time when kids go around in creepy costumes and collect candy from different houses. But that is not how it originated! Halloween began as a Celtic tradition, the festival of Samhain where they would light bonfires and wear crazy costumes to ward off ghosts. It then turned into a Holiday called “All Saints Day” that happened on November 1 In honor of the dead saints. The evening before was called “All Hallows Eve,” or what we now call ,“Halloween.” The two traditions eventually combined to create a crazy day of carving pumpkins, wearing costumes, and collecting candy. Although we know ghosts are not real, it is a fun holiday. We do not need costumes to scare away ghosts, though. There is someone who is much greater than any costume or saint. He came to Earth to save us. Even if you want to think you are good, no one could ever come close to becoming perfect except for Jesus. Jesus is God’s son and he is the only one who could do what he did. God, the maker of everything, saw that no one was good and that we needed help. So God sent his son into the world as a baby whose name was Jesus. God sent Jesus to bear the punishment we deserved. His son, Jesus, the only perfect person, Died a painful death on a tree so that we would be able to live with God forever. But his death wasn’t the end of the story. He was dead. But on the third day, when all seemed lost, He was resurrected! This is not a theory. People actually saw him after his death! Although Jesus died to save our sins, we cannot be saved unless we believe in him. Believe that he died for you. If you believe in him, God will look at you and instead of seeing your sin, he will see the perfection of his son on you and He will be pleased. And you will go to Heaven with him forever.

Victor Katterson age 12

And that pretty well blessed my socks right off. So Happy Halloween, and may the grace of Jesus cover you (and many others) tonight!

The Name: Jemima Faye

Dear Jemima,

Though you are our "grand finale" baby (we think), your name was perhaps the first one settled on by Daddy and me. Way back when we were thinking of what to call our first baby (who was, I felt quite certain, a girl), the name Jemima was our first choice.

Like each of our kids, your first name is special to us because of what it reminds us about God. 

 

In the Bible, the story of Jemima (ESV "Jemimah") begins with the story of Job. Job was a man who believed in God, served God, taught his children about God, treated his family, employees, and the vulnerable in light of God's love, and feared and revered God (Job 1:1, 5, 23:11, etc). And yet, for reasons that he could not fathom, God sent him suffering of the deepest and most painful kinds.

He lost his livelihood, his possessions, his children, and his health. Even his friends thought that such profound and sustained suffering must be a sign that God was judging him. To walk through deep waters amid such accusations and questions was a trial of the soul like few taste. 

But Job had hope like an anchor in his soul.

Though He slay me, yet I will hope in Him (Job 13:15).

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God (Job 19:25-26).

The real question is, was God trust-worthy?

We get an actual answer to that question in James 5:11:

We count those blessed who endured. You have heard of the endurance of Job and have seen the outcome of the Lord's dealings, that the Lord is full of compassion and is merciful.

Indeed, God was and is always worthy of our trust. After Job's anguish, questioning, and outcries, God vindicates his faith and restores his health and prosperity, "and the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before" (Job 42:10). 

Not only that, but, in true resurrection-type joy,

the LORD blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning. And he had 14,000 sheep, 6,000 camels, 1,000 yoke of oxen, and 1,000 female donkeys. He had also seven sons and three daughters. And he called the name of the first daughter Jemimah, and the name of the second Keziah, and the name of the third Keren-happuch. And in all land there were no women so beautiful as Job's daughters. And their father gave them an inheritance among their brothers. (Job 42:12-15)

To us, the name Jemima is a reminder of "joy that comes in the morning," of the indestructible hope that belongs to those who trust in God, even when nothing makes sense, and of the way Jesus' victory over sin, death, and the curse is so absolute that even our deepest sorrows and losses may be transformed to joy in Him.

Dear Jemima, when we look at you, we see a little picture of Jesus' resurrection joy. And we pray that you will know that joy in the fullest measure, as you come to trust in Jesus yourself!

Your middle name, like each of our kids, has a special connection to our family.

My mom's name is Patty Rae. Daddy's mom's name is Meredith Kay. And your middle name, Faye, is in honor of both these amazing grandmas. 

Faye means "faith," and faith is the greatest legacy that Grammy and Grandma Kay have given to our family. Like Paul wrote to Timothy, "I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, dwells in you as well" (2 Timothy 1:5).

To have two grandmothers who faithfully pray for you, model trust in Jesus, and desire to strengthen you in your own faith and life in Christ is a priceless gift that we thank God for.

And, how fitting that you arrived on Mother's Day, when we remember the sacrifice and investment of these women in the lives of their families.

Grammy shows such gentleness and patience to our family, as a wonderful picture of God's lavish grace and love. She is thoughtful about the specific needs and preferences of each one, and she is an unmatched "giver" of time, care, service, and encouragement. 

 

Grandma Kay is a joyful, whole-hearted lover of God. She prays earnestly, seeks God in His word faithfully, and responds to the leading of the Holy Spirit in specific and faith-filled ways, and she is full of joy to be a "trophy of God's grace." 

 

Jemima, we are blessed beyond measure to have these grandmas in our family, and I know you will be the recipient of unmeasured grace because of their investment in your life.

These are the special thoughts behind your name, and we pray that ultimately, your name will be etched in the Lamb's book of life, as a sign of your belonging wholly to Jesus Christ forever! 

Love you, sweet girl,

Momma

Love by Listening and Learning

If you are like me, you are facing this Monday with a very perspective than last Monday.

COVID-19 has prompted calls for action that I have not previously experienced. We are walking a path we haven't walked before.

That said, here are two ideas that have been growing in my mind for what it looks like to "let all you do be done in love" in the midst of COVID-19.

First, listen to others.

My ideas of what this virus means have been changing. My personal risk (and my family's) is not high. But when I have heard the hearts of those who are in an extremely vulnerable position ... or are caring for those who are, my perspective on what it means to act in love have changed.

It has helped me ask this kind of question: "If I were the one caring for a child on immuno-suppression medication, how much would I want others to act with conservative, protective, proactive care within the community?"

Listening is also a way of caring for others in a season where some people are facing loneliness like never before. Asking for neighbors to reach out if they needed help or prayers has already created connections and shared stories that I didn't have before.

Second, be a learner.

Since much of what we are experiencing is new (new virus, new pandemic experience, new implications being realized each day), have the posture of a learner.

I'm not commending that you race to read all the panic-inducing updates on the spread of the virus.

Rather, listen to counsel. If your medical provider or government officials make a request or recommendation, take it to heart. If you see how your actions could be changed to be more protective of the vulnerable, make a change. Find trusted resources for wise action, and do not look out only for your own interests, but also for the interests of others.

There are some heart-breaking stories of the dramatic and widespread consequences of just a single person failing to heed advice. This is a time for humble hearts. Let's be good learners.

1 Corinthians 16:14 calls us to "let all you do be done in love." May the Lord grant us that grace.

The Really Big Problem ... and the Greatest Rescue

There is a big story unfolding in these days, and we don't know all the chapters it will bring. But for all the seriousness and impact of COVID-19, a far greater story of peril, sacrificial love, and rescue surrounds it:

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die--but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:6-8

The problem: We are ungodly (all of us) and under a penalty of eternal death.

The risk: Not just unknown danger or potential hazards, but certain death on the part of the rescuer.

The motive: Love. Not our kind of love that settles on those who are lovable or already part of our people. This is love for the ugly, the enemy, the ones who have created the problem for themselves.

The rescue: God himself sent his own Son Jesus. He lived perfectly, keeping the standards that all of us have broken. He gave his life as a substitute payment for what we owe.

The offer: Receive him. Give up your way of trying to produce your own worth before God. Look only to Jesus for your perfect righteousness, your fully paid debt, and the resources to live in God's ways by God's own strength and Spirit.

It's an awesome story. Let's not forget it, no matter what unexpected twists come our way.

Thoughts on Psalm 121:7-8

Since I inadvertently wrote about the wrong passage for a Fighter Verse blog post, here are some unsolicited thoughts on Psalm 121:7-8. 😏

The Kept and the Keeper

The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.—Psalm 121:7-8

If the psalms are songs, then perhaps we may consider this to be the great crescendo and finale of Psalm 121. And the note that is struck over and over in this finale is the precious note of “keep.”

Remember the first words of this psalm? “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?” This song of ascents begins with the question of finding our help, but it closes with a rhythmic, repeated refrain of the One whose eyes are ever on us.

Shamar, “keep,” has the idea of guarding, protecting, attending to, watching over. And life in this fallen world holds many perils. What kind of keeping does God grant his own?

The LORD will keep you from all evil. No greater blanket of security could cover us in this world of fallenness, brokenness, and sin than this. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). There is great evil in the world. But unfortunately, our trouble is not simply external to us. As Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” So this “keeping” promise hints at a most precious deliverance. In perfect faithfulness, God has purposed to deliver us not only from evil schemes of others but to provide a Redeemer who would make a way for eternal joy and deliverance from our own sin.

He will keep your life. We see another hint here at the depth of “keeping” God provides. “Life” is also translated “soul.” Our Keeper is so strong that he guards and attends to the deepest needs of our heart. Are you facing grave adversity? Are you staring down the reality of death and the grave? These verses give an unshakable anchor. The LORD is not too weak to keep our life. Even in deepest darkness, he will keep our soul. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4). When all around my soul gives way, he then is all my hope and stay (Edward Mote, “The Solid Rock”).

The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore. God’s care is both cosmic and close. Recall from verse 3, he guards each step of your foot. “Even the hairs of your head are all numbered” (Matthew 10:30). You will never go beyond the scope of his keeping gaze. “If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (Psalm 139:9-10). His keeping is constant, and his keeping is eternal, “from this time forth and forevermore.”

The security of our keeping depends on the nature of our Keeper. So let’s revel and rest in the truth that the LORD is our keeper (Psalm 121:5), and by his own saving hand, we are kept this moment and forevermore.

Discussion Questions:

·       What do you find the greatest threat to your life or hope? How has God provided a “keeping” grace for you at that very point of need?

·       What is the most precious aspect of “keeping” to you today? How can you praise God for his perfect protection and attentiveness to every need of your heart?

Gospel, Preparation, and Coffee Shop Conversations

"Hi." My back was toward the man who greeted me while taking his plate to the "dish-return bucket." "My name is Omad." (Not his real name.)

"Hello, I'm Amy."

"They have good coffee here, don't they?" he said. "I work just over there. Do you live nearby?"

"Yes, not too far from here. This is my favorite place to get coffee," I said. "I like to come here to work or do my Bible study," I pointed to my Galatians notebook on the counter. "I'm in a Bible study on Galatians right now. Do you know the Bible?"

"Somewhat, yes. My family is Muslim, but I don't consider myself Muslim. But I am quite religious," he said. "I feel very connected to God."

I said, "Actually, this week in Bible study we were talking about the heart of the good news of Jesus.

"We have a big problem, because all of us have fallen short of God's standard of goodness, and we cannot fix that. But God sent His own Son Jesus, who lived a perfect life. He died, not because of wrong things He had done, but rather to pay for the sins of those who will trust in Him.

"And God raised Him from the dead to show that it was enough. So if we trust in Jesus and not in anything we can offer, God will receive us and cover us with Jesus' goodness. It is such good news!"

"Yes, thank you," he said. "Have a good day."

"You too," I said, and he went on his way.

It was curious, but I was not surprised at this unusual encounter. Because on Wednesday at Bible study I challenged the women to take an "assignment" to share the good news we were discussing with someone in the week ahead. And on my drive to the coffee shop, I was asking God for an opportunity. And don't you know, He always hears our prayers.

May He give us many such prayers, many such encounters, and multiplied joy rehearsing the good news of Jesus.

P.S. My husband says he was just hitting on me. To which I say, well whatever. What he got was the gospel.

Sermon by Ben

A good word from someone dear.

Emotions and Building Your Own House

Be true to yourself! Follow your heart. As you feel, so you are. To stifle, deny, or repress your emotions is not only unhealthy, it's actually dangerous.

These messages are the gospel of our culture, the good news that you not only may but must embrace how you feel and indulge it to the full.

So let's follow the line of thought to its conclusion.

Examples taken from my personal experience:

Scene 1: I feel frustrated because I can't get anything done. I snap at my kids, growl at my husband, slam around backpacks and water bottles trying to get out the door, and glare bitterly at the piles of work that taunt me with my futile efforts to make headway. In anything.

Outcome: full family misery

Scene 2: I feel needy, emotionally fragile. I wait for my husband to sense the specific tenderness and attentiveness that my soul craves. He fails, being a mere mortal. I grow silent, sullen, withdrawn. He is very confused about what the trouble could be.

Outcome: sad, disconnected evening

Scene 3: I feel industrious, ready to tackle anything. I charge into a project, getting knee-deep in work (the kind of thing that looks like a total tornado before getting better). My children come to me with tiny, insignificant matters: they need a snack, there is a squabble over a toy, they can't find their special bear. I brush them aside when possible, deal with the issues begrudgingly, ignore all that I can.

Outcome: bigger mess, tangled hearts that have not been shepherded, frustration (and loop back to Scene 1 above)

Our emotions powerfully speak to us, and they are no small part of what shapes our desires, attitudes, priorities, and responses. But they are tyrants if given mastery, and the fulfillment promised by boundlessly indulging what we feel is actually an empty one. "By what a man is overcome, to this he is enslaved" (2 Peter 2:19b).

What is the better word that the gospel of Christ brings? Nothing less than an entirely new heart.

"I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20).

Because we are deeply loved by Christ, because our ugly hearts have been put to death with Him and we have received new hearts with the very life of Christ, a new path is open to us.

The same strong native emotions course through us, but with the Spirit of Christ within we  see that those are not our deepest identity. And so the words of Proverbs 14:1 come to life: "The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down."

What does this look like on the ground?

Examples also taken from real life:

Scene 1: I feel frustrated because I can't get anything done. A heart check indicates that I'm craving significance through accomplishment. Truth reminds me: Christ has done it all. God is pleased with my humbly opening my hand for today's labors to receive what He is pleased to give. He knows when I need to get where I'm going. He may use the weakness of my hands and home to point to His sufficiency, even by contentment in what I can't get done. I'm still late and messy, but I'm able to walk in peace with my family and see the joy of these crazy days.

Scene 2: I feel needy, emotionally fragile. I wait for my husband to sense the specific tenderness and attentiveness that my soul craves. He fails, being a mere mortal. I quietly plead for an ability to trust God to minister what my heart needs and tell Ben that it might be a nice night to just cozy up on the couch and watch a show together because I'm tired and feeling needy. He prays for me.

Scene 3: I feel industrious, ready to tackle anything. I charge into a project, getting knee-deep in work (the kind of thing that looks like a total tornado before getting better). My children come to me with tiny, insignificant matters: they need a snack, there is a squabble over a toy, they can't find their special bear. I sigh deeply and offer up my project to God. I stop and help the boys work through their conflict and restore fellowship together. I ask for help to push through my work. I am surprised to find that I actually make some headway.

Oh friends, this is not a war we can win on our own. But the good news is, our Victor has come. We are no longer slaves to our emotions. The Shepherd of our heart may show us a new way, and we may find the grace to build our house instead of our own hands tearing it down. May it be, Lord!

The Right to Choose

The right to choose is a real a weighty thing.

I choose what I do with my body. That is a great and valuable entrustment.

What difference do those choices make?

There are huge and far-reaching effects.

If I choose to act in compassion, considering others' interests and not just my own, the effects of my choice will be significant. Others will be changed in response to my choice.

If I choose to act in anger, selfishness, or pride, there are consequences to those choices as well. Though I have the right to choose, I cannot manage or control all the results of that choice. There are many factors outside of my control. In addition, the choices I make shape the course of my life and the direction of others. The choices I make matter.

If I choose to harm others with my body, that choice bears fruit. If I should choose to harm my 7-year-old, it would be a terrible and culpable decision. He has certain rights, because he is made in God's image and his body is not my own. Where my choices impact others, there is more to consider than just my own rights.

I also have a 10-month-old baby. He is much smaller than my 7-year-old. He is much more dependent. In fact, he depends on me for nearly all of his care. He doesn't contribute very much to our household, from the standpoint of utilitarian value. His presence impacts my own responsibilities in great ways. It is possible that my own health or sleep or employment may be affected because of the interconnected bonds of our lives. That impact does not mean that his body is under my jurisdiction, that I may do to it what I please. To assert such, to misuse his body in any way, is called abuse, and it is a horrifying reality. That I am stronger than he, more capable than he, more productive than he does not give me permission to use my body to harm him without repercussion.

Slightly more than 10 months ago, my baby was within me. His DNA was the same as it is now. His precious little nose had the same shape. His tiny fingers (already chubby!) had their own unique fingerprint. His little heels jabbed me in the ribs, quite aside from any impulse or effort of my own body.

About 8 months and 8 days earlier than that, his heart was already beating on its own.

Let us not imagine that the decisions I made with my body, the choices I had and have the right to make, were less significant in their consequences on his body than they are now. Nor, in the sight of God, do those decisions have any less weight of responsibility.

That may seem quite a burden. Who of us has perfectly stewarded the right to choose without error? Some have made choices that ended the lives of others. Maybe the others were very tiny and still within their body. Maybe the others were living independently. Some have made choices that did not harm the physical lives of others but harbored anger and hatred for them internally. In a crushing insight, God has said that the heart reality behind anger is the same as behind murder (Matthew 5:21-22). I am guilty. And the hard truth is that my guilt has earned me a consequence. Before a holy God, I have earned death (Romans 6:23).

But this grim, sweeping sentence is not the end of the story. In a shocking move, the Righteous Judge, God Himself, made a choice. He chose to send His only Son, the beloved Son, sent as a helpless baby into His own creation. He lived perfectly but was betrayed. He was judged innocent (John 19:4), yet handed over to death. He could have been delivered (Matthew 26:53), but He chose to give His life. And like a divine exclamation point, God raised Him from the dead to show that the exchange was complete, that the way was opened for us to be made right with God, to receive by faith the perfect record of the Son and by His death the penalty for our sin be paid (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Easter morning dawns tomorrow, reminding us of this cosmic invitation, to trust in One who chose not to be served but to serve and give His life as a ransom for many. I pray you find eternal joy and comfort in Him, whatever choices you have made before. He is worthy.



 

He Is Worthy

A real Friday. A terrible pain.

The day when the Lamb of the world was slain,

When the Light was crushed, whom the Father gave,

The Lord of life put into a grave.

The day toward which our hopes were bent.

The day for which the Son was sent.

A day of infamy, cruelty, death,

He uttered a cry and gave His last breath.

He is worthy.

Sleep Deprivation, Strongholds, and Radical Spiritual Victory

I am all too aware of what horrible outbursts of flesh and sin are typical of the morning-after-a-terrible-night-of-sleep.

I don't need to reach far into the recesses of memory to see the snappish temper, the inward, sulky heart, impatience with others' childish demands, and a general sense of wounded entitlement, all nurtured within a bleary sense that I would be so much better if only so-and-so had not awakened me every 2 hours or such-and-such had not needed to feed so often.

Groaning, I squint at the digital clock face that demands I arise from bed, whatever kind of train wreck I may feel. I am like a ticking timebomb of discontentment, probably moments away from bursting in someone's face.

But of course, this general sense that the world is gloomy and there is no redemption for the  crumminess of life on such a tired morning is just one of the enemy's ploys.

Doubtless, he intends to triumph over us without even a struggle, if he can just start us off in despair and lead us gently into a day full of frustration, self-pity, and irritability.

What other darts does he employ? Of course, our cross temper typically multiplies into poor attitudes for all the little people around us. This can easily mushroom into angry outbursts (defended as "discipline") and all its ugly fallout.

Generally, he also sows thick seeds of bitterness toward one's spouse, who (regardless of how good or bad his own night of sleep may have been) cannot appreciate the full pain that one is laboring under at the start of this day.

Knowing (as we do) that God is sovereign in all the smallest details of life, we generally hold a grudge against Him for this tortuous entry into a day and the crud that continues to unfold in it, as the cherry on top of our enemy's tactics.

"We are not ignorant of his schemes" (2 Corinthians 2:11). So what does it look and feel like to face up to the enemy and walk in faith and grace in a morning such as this?

It probably doesn't feel very radical and victorious. It feels more like dying a hundred deaths before breakfast. "For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh" (2 Corinthians 10:3). Most of this war starts in the brain.

God is for me. He has tailor-made graces for the needs of this morning.

These little need-vessels (my children) are a gift.

The sin troubles of their own little hearts mirror my own, and the sacrifice of Jesus has made a way for us to find pardon and help.

There are reasons to laugh even when I'm blitzed.

No agenda for this day is more important than listening for God's quiet voice and receiving and reflecting His love.

Even if I don't check much off my to-do list today, it will be a day that honors God if I walk in Spirit-given kindness toward those around me.

I don't need an extra 15 minutes of sleep as much as I need a few minutes for God's truth to wash over my mind.

My husband is on my team (even if he looks perky and refreshed). He might even pray for me if I ask him.

There is not more joy in sleep than joy in Jesus. And by Jesus' grace, I will indeed (most likely) sleep again one day.


To us, these quiet shifts of heart are pretty insignificant and unimpressive. But I would not be surprised if such is the stuff of "divine [power] for the destruction of fortresses" (2 Corinthians 10:4). Radical Christianity is seen when faith in Jesus triumphs in a sleep deprived morning.

Letter to a Friend of a Friend

Dear friend,

I don’t know you, don’t know your name or much about you really. But one of your friends shared with me about what you said at school recently, that God is dead and you killed Him.

I’ve thought about those words a bit, and what I would say if I had the opportunity to sit down and talk with you. I’m quite a bit older than you, but I know that even by junior high, life can offer plenty of pain and difficulty. In the middle of junk, it’s easy to feel like God is distant—dead even.

But I know a little about death too. Mostly what I know is how my own heart was ugly and broken and dead. Might seem curious to say that since I could still walk around and play basketball and do algebra and play the piano, but there was absolutely no spark of real life inside. And dead people don’t get better with time and effort. 

And what happened to me is something quite crazy to imagine. Right in the middle of my own junk, when my heart was full of selfishness and arrogance and deadness, God broke in and gave me new life. Real life for the first time. And it wasn’t because I had something I could offer Him or do for Him. It was because of events in history—something that happened 2000 years ago. 

It was a universal problem actually, people with rebellion and ugliness and deadness inside, and—this may be hard to swallow but stick with me—God, the real God who made this world full of photosynthesis and the nervous system and black holes and symphonies, He not only made everything and everyone but He had every right to just let us pursue our course straight into eternal destruction.

But instead He did an absolutely astounding thing. Breathtaking. Stunning.

He sent His own, His only Son straight into the mess. You know of Jesus—but have you ever read the firsthand accounts of those who walked next to Him on dusty Palestinian roads or sat with Him in a little fishing boat and saw and heard what God Himself was like when He actually put on human skin? 

If you believed God was real and alive, you might think He would be harsh and insensitive, turning away people who don’t measure up, with no time of day for the likes of you. But turns out that isn’t right all. Jesus saw the people nobody else cared about. He hung out with crooks and mess ups. And if someone came to Him, broken, sick, knowing their whole life was screwed up and they couldn’t do a thing to fix it and He was their only hope—well, He would take time not just to heal their sickness or rescue them from their demons, but to actually work resuscitating life into their dead hearts.

You’d think that would make Him a hero, but in fact it earned Him the utter hatred and venom of the religious leaders of the day.

In the end, they killed Him for it. But He’s God of course, so they couldn’t have touched a fingernail of His if He didn’t allow it. So why on earth did He let them hang Him up on a cross like a criminal so He could slowly asphyxiate to death? The most shocking thing of all. Because Jesus’ whole purpose in coming to earth was not just healing and loving the handful of people right there for a few years. He came to save dead people like you and me for all eternity. 

And to do that, He chose to die in our place. Take the hit that was coming to me for all the hateful junk in my dead heart. In a way, I could say what you said—God died, and I was the one who killed Him.

Best news of all though, and you can take it from me or get the confirming testimony of over 500 eyewitnesses, Jesus did not stay dead. He crushed the enemy by His own death, and no graveyard was strong enough to hold Him in. He’s alive, my friend, and He would welcome you—not if you get your act together or have something impressive to offer Him—He would welcome you if you simply came as you are to Him as He is. 

He died to give us life and cover over the ugliness of our dead hearts. How I pray that you would give Him a chance to do just that.

Wishing you every good thing,
Amy

Stomach Flu

We had just arrived at Como Zoo to meet some friends when Victor said his tummy hurt.

Go potty. Walk a little. Sit on a bench. He would crouch down between exhibits. Not good.

But he rallied after some pretzels, ate a decent lunch, said his tummy was feeling better, went potty again, and came home for a nap.

At 3:30, he came out (with vomit dripping down an arm and leg) and let us know he had spit up.

Oh, Stomach Flu. You are such a never-welcome guest here.

3:30pm.
4:30pm.
6:00pm.
7:15pm.
9:00pm.
11:00pm.
11:53pm.
12:55am.

Then Josiah started.

2:00am.
3:15am.
3:55am.
4:38am.
5:36am.
8:01am.
9:40am.

I'm just not sure how many loads of laundry we ran in the past 24 hours. (Josiah, in particular, is not a particularly good aim.)

I have a pretty good idea how much sleep I got, but I don't want to dwell on it.

The harbinger cough. The call. The retching, even after the belly is empty. Oh, you are a terrible thing. A picture of our awful Fall.

But on the other hand.

How thankful I am for a washer and dryer, so easily available.

I'm so glad neither of the boys got terribly dehydrated.

Only 10 hours apiece. Really not so bad.

Elliot has been spared, thus far.

Ben was able to help with a fair bit of it all.

We still have a few days before welcoming family and friends here for Easter.

I had a mental flash, sometime in the night, of the scourge of ebola that loomed so large a while ago. I could imagine the horrific dread that must have fallen on mommas and caregivers with the first signs of sickness. In comparison, o Stomach Flu, I could indeed nearly call you a friend.

And this week of all weeks, we remember our great Hero, who stepped into our Fall-tainted world and wore a flesh that was susceptible to the flu bug, the bite of a thorn, the explosion of pain that a nail could produce.

Victor over sin and death. Firstborn from the grave. Promise of coming joy. Thank You.