the dream is dead

The main room has sold out, and they are at overflow seating at the Desiring God National Conference. Yes, I know we're not going, and yes, I know I'm working that weekend.

This was a deathblow, nonetheless.

What I wanted to see most:
N.D. Wilson's session - Think "Story": Understanding Your Place in the Drama of Redemption
John Piper's address - "The Life of the Mind and the Love of God"
& a live broadcast of the White Horse Inn, featuring one of my favorite super heroes, Captain Orthodox (aka Michael Horton), and his band of merry theologi, discussing Textual Narcissism.

Now Piper I can download, and the White Horse Inn I can download. But I'm not so sure about Wilson's session. Hopefully it's being recorded, but who can say for sure? Alas and lackaday.


Ok, so I know there are not a few heavy hitters at the conference this year--Mohler, Chan, VideoSproul, not to mention Kevin DeYoung (!!!!) and Billy Graham's grandson (because I can't spell his name, but I can spell 'Billy'). So why do I want to see N.D. Wilson?
1. His writing style blows me away. Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl was one of the most interesting, memorable, and thoughtful books I've ever read. I'm interested in hearing from the mind behind it.
2. I naturally think in terms of "story." He's bringing redemption into a setting and language I am fluent in.


Oh, and if I could go see the rest of the conference, too, I wouldn't complain. :)


Maybe 2011??

post-party joy

Despite my fears and disappointments, people seem to have enjoyed the weekend. Maybe I'll be able to sleep again.......Thank you, TFC, for proving me wrong in all my doubts and frustrations. This has been the most humbling summer of my life----a very good thing. God is a good, powerful, loving, sweet God. I recently read something along these lines in a book on the Trinity-- "Father is not just a description of what he is like--father is what he is." Where would we be without his extravagantly kind providence? There is only joy in my heart, and all the labor is a memory--a zephyr of eternity.

bad flashback

the last time i blogged on this topic, some guy i didn't  know got mad at me and posted a mean comment. :)

I listened to Dr. Silva from Westminster Seminary lecture on textual criticism while driving home today. He mentioned a scholar named Streeter, and immediately all I heard in my head was a deep, deliberately slow voice drawling, "Seven-ty fiiive rea-sonss whyyy Iiiiii Chooose the Kiinng Jaames Version.............Num-ber One...." An odd combination of mental cringing and giggles distracted me from the rest of the lecture as I flashed back to Dr. Streeter's painful chapel messages. But the textual criticism lectures and the flashback to Dr. Streeter really do make me wonder about the TR/KJV only position.

How in the world do you get away from the Greek Septuagint, which varied significantly from the Hebrew manuscripts of the Old Testament, and that Jesus and the writers of the New  Testament  all quoted from?  How can you expect something to be done for the New Testament when translated from Greek to English when that same thing was not done for the Old Testament when translated from Hebrew  to Greek? If it were a problem, wouldn't Jesus only quote from the Hebrew texts? Why do we have him quoting from the Septuagint? Why do the writers of the NT all quote from the Septuagint? How can  the  NT writers quote three different versions of Habakkuk 2:4, even in the Textus Receptus, if changing  one word of the Scriptures is the same thing as willful perversion and amounts to a leavening of the whole  lump?

I wish just once in all the lectures we were forced to listen to at PCC about the King James Version and the Byzantine Text and the very righteous Erasmus (Luther just rolled in his grave) and King James (William Brewster just rolled in  his grave) and the very wicked Wescott and Hort (and they just rolled in their graves), that just once someone had meaningfully engaged the Greek Septuagint and its implications for Scripture translation. Or even the textual criticism that Erasmus engaged in, and the extent to which he borrowed from the Latin Vulgate when the Byzantine manuscripts didn't supply enough information, and how in the world his  textual criticism was any different from Hort's textual criticism. I still have inner panic attacks when I remember the sloppy scholarship and awful writing demonstrated in the book we were forced to read, Touch Not the Unclean  Thing.Talk about an unconvincing argument!

Jesus and the inspiring Holy Ghost apparently didn't have the same standards  for translation that the Received Text scholars do. Even Erasmus didn't have those standards, and he's the one who put the whole TR together! It blows my mind.

My very favorite PCC KJV-only moment came when in Touch Not the Unclean Thing I read that Westcott  and Hort were involved in the occult and some other Very Bad Things, only to later learn that there was a man in London named Westcott who practiced  black magic. It was not the same Westcott, but hey, the similarities are striking. I mean, they both lived in the same city at the same time. It doesn't take much of a leap to figure out that since one Westcott was a bad egg, the other must be one too!

more on the video

My other quirk with the Roots to Fruit video is that we didn't adequately explain why it is a GOOD thing that God is so sovereign. It states that he is without a doubt sovereign, but as to why this is something desirable, I feel like we left to the imagination. A belligerent unbeliever could accuse us of masochism, or dependence, or ignorance. 

I tried resolving that issue a little bit in my blog post today at Women by Design with this paragraph:

We read on Sunday from Jeremiah 18 that God does not just reserve the right to intervene when he chooses, but that he is in total and complete control over all creation at all times. He is good and glorious, and the reverence that we owe him is not what an mere earthly tyrant demands. If we were not so blinded by sin and depraved in heart, mankind would find him irresistibly delightful. It is for our good that he reveals himself to us as Sovereign Lord.

 The only reason that we would find God's sovereignty distasteful is because we do not see him as he is. If I could add anything to the video, it would be something proclaiming the glorious beauty of God, not just his sovereignty, not just his power. If he were evil yet sovereign, it would be right to hate him. His sovereignty is one of the reasons we worship him, but not the only one. But his righteousness is unparalleled. If we hate him, it is because we love the darkness. If we resent him, it is because we would have ourselves be the grand and glorious center of the universe. Our vision is blinded.

I would add a disclaimer for people who do not love him--what we are saying may not make sense to you, but that does not change his goodness, mercy, righteousness, and compassion. We do not blindly lean on a crutch or give ourselves up to determinism. We love him only because he first loved us. His sovereignty makes his mercy all the greater, and his mercy makes his sovereignty good to the taste.

confused

Robin Lawrence & Jenny Lawrence - A Roots to Fruit Story from Trinity Fellowship Church on Vimeo.


This is, I hope, not false humility parading itself, but I'm having a hard time with the overly generous reaction to the video. I bordered on embarrassment when they first suggested the topic for us to speak about. Of all the people in the world, I think I'm one of the last qualified to speak about suffering. I've never gone to bed hungry. I've never been abused. I've never had to kill myself with labor to get byy. I haven't suffered.

My mom died of cancer when I was eleven. But she loved me. She never abused me or ignored me. She died--she didn't abandon me. That's diet suffering. Lite. Zero calories.

I know someone who was tormented by a terrible disease, watched his sister suffer from a disorder, and then watched his mom die of cancer.

I look at him and think---what right do I have to put myself on the pedestal of an experienced sufferer? I don't know anything! God took my mom, and by His grace I can still praise Him. But what if He took all of my health, my job, my possessions, and every friend? I pray, literally pray every day, that He will keep me faithful even then. But I am as yet not tested.

It's strange to hear from people who really have suffered, whether physically or emotionally or spiritually, and to find that they were touched and impressed. I can find no explanation for it, except that God is pleased to use the extremely foolish things of the world.

You are good, and what You do is good. Teach me decrees!

book review: Anne Bradstreet

 I had good  expectations for D.B. Kellogg's Anne Bradstreet--biography is one of my favorite genres, and religiously, I am very sympathetic to the Puritans. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy this biography at all.

The writing was limp, uninteresting at best and confusing at worst. There were several misstatements in the book that interrupted the flow of reading. The information level seemed appropriate for a sixth grade book report, which is fine. Sixth graders need books at their level. However, the writing style was so flavorless and at times incoherent that if I were a parent or teacher looking to recommend a biography, this one would not be it.

It is a small book, and I hope that the book's failings are due to a forced editing due to size restrictions. Perhaps with more words to spare, the author would have produced a more interesting, captivating biography.

I read this book as a member of Book Sneeze, a division of Thomas Nelson.

Christ in all of my longings

"bright Father of light,
no turning with Thee,
let there be Christ in all of my longings.
give me oil for my dry lamp.
let me be the white bride of Your heart,
of Your heart."
team strike force, "meditation on light"

It's really hard for me to not plan out my future and determine what would make everything perfect. If I get this apartment, if my latest scheme works, if i have less of a commute, if I get a fuzzy white doggy, if my friendship with this person continues to develop, if I .... then I would be so comfortable.

When I step back and evaluate my longings, I see all of Teddy's longings. If my perfect plans worked out, not one single person would be impacted for the Kingdom's sake. Just my life would be comfier.

Will my desire to want Christ ever translate into an actual desire for Christ? I know that I want Him, but my common thoughts reveal my true motives.

For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. But if I am doing the very thing I do not want, I am no longer the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, on the one hand I myself with my mind am serving the law of God, but on the other, with my flesh the law of sin

book review: Same Kind of Different as Me

I tend to be skeptical of both New York Times Bestsellers and Amazing True Stories, both of which tags Same Kind of Different as Me claims. This book is, my skepticism aside, deserving of the compliments.

The prose is exquisitely beautiful. I read some books for their content and some books just because the writing is so excellent--this one has both style and content, making it well-worth the time to read. The opening chapter sucked me in, and I barely put it down until I had finished it.

The story itself was an incredible one. I give the authors some artistic license to make a true story into an interesting novel, but still, the unfolding of events was a powerful display of man's impotence and God's sovereignty.

The racial tension was revealing and humbling, especially for a northerner born in the 1980s--my understanding of racial discrimination did not entirely agree with the descriptions in the book. I appreciated the honest emotions portrayed by both main characters.

Pretty early in the book, I guessed where the story was heading--and I was right. But that did not prevent me from feeling the full emotions and from crying at the climax. It is a beautifully written book that I recommend first as an example of first-class prose, and then as an important story.

I read this book as a member of BookSneeze, a division of Thomas Nelson.

[edit] Bonus Review by Tim Challies [/edit]

if I got a tattoo

In case anyone ever has me at gunpoint and forces me to get a tattoo, I have decided what I would get. It's good to be prepared for emergencies.

It would be a little person in complete armor with the words "coram Deo" somewhere around it. But maybe a little more dignified than this guy!

If someone actually came up to me and had a gun and told me to get a tattoo or die, I would accept it as a sign from God that I am to have a tattoo. Until then, I'll just have to live coram Deo without the artwork to remind me.

book review: I am Hutterite

I Am Hutterite by Mary-Ann Kirkby is one of the most interesting, enjoyable narratives that I've read recently. Her prose is very smooth and she makes what could be boring details come alive. I loved learning about the Hutterites, and I was genuinely disappointed when the book ended. It felt like an interactive history lesson, and she made me emotionally involved in the stories of her childhood. It's a great book that I would recommend to anyone who enjoys biographies, history, and wonderful home-spun stories.

I read this book as a member of BookSneeze, a division of Thomas Nelson.

and you, vanya

There's a poem that I memorized way back in high school. It's an English translation of a Russian poem--I have no idea who wrote it or translated, and I can't seem to find it anywhere. It came out of the Russian Revolution, a time of national poverty and despair. It went along these lines:


And you, Vanya--
go and cut up that black rooster.

What for?
The little rooster sings to us at dawn.

It sure does.
But to hear it, you must be alive.
And to be alive, you must eat.

Vanya went and cut up the rooster.
Now everyone's alive,
Sitting and listening to the little hen crying,
Cackling for the rooster.




There's something so simplistically obvious about that poem.

creation shows the power of God

I am ending the day with a lot more freckles than I began the day with. The sunnier and hotter it is outside, the more likely it is that I will be found outside. I want to be a person that in the summer LOVES the summer and all that summer entails--sunshine, heat, sweat, running, Vitamin D, fresh air, sweet grass, fireflies, gorgeous flowers, earthy dirt, salt water, fresh water, cold creeks, and clear lakes.

And in the fall I want to love the changing colors, the brisk air, wearing a sweater or sweatshirt, smelling the first fire, and the in-between warmth and coolness of the air. In the winter I want to love the shocking cold, the glimmering beauty of snow-covered fields, the fun of bundling up, gray skies, shoveling snow, putting out seed for the birds, and the pleasure of a warm kitchen. In spring I want to love every drop of rain, the buds and blossoms on the trees, the blue skies, the winds that make warm days still chilly, the return of the birds and the venturing out of the animals.

I do NOT want to be the person that in summer sweats for winter, in winter moans for summer, in spring sneezes for fall, and in fall wheezes for spring. God has given us a beautiful creation, and I don't want to waste it. I love living in a state that experiences four seasons. By loving and enjoying the creation, I glorify God the Creator. I can't even imagine what the new heavens and the new earth will be like, when creation no longer groans because of the curse. It's gonna be good! And God himself will be with us in that day when we venture further up and further in!

subliminal messages

I saw an episode of a television show that I loved as a tweenager. The show was intended for kids my age in the 11-13 year old range. The specific audience was boys, but I and a friend from school watched it because of the cute guys.

What were those producers thinking? A show for little kids, specifically boys, and the main lesson driven into our heads every day was that girls can and should be good, better, best, never resting until the boy is dominated and the better is best.

I was shocked by a scene that was played for humor in which two guys and a girl were walking while on a journey. Boy A was carrying a load and complaining about it, so the girl took it from him and marched off. Behind her back, boys A and B high-fived each other. Episode after episode of women overcoming impossible odds and men being incredibly stupid.

Oh dear. Hello, unhappy 11-year old Jenny. I was wondering where you picked up those feminist ideals. But you were eleven, and those ideas went right over your discretion and right into your head.

Kids are little fools. That's not the surprise. What I don't understand is why male producers and male writers would write a show for little men that completely demeans men and teaches little women to despise men? I do not get it.

I don't like tv.

we reached 90 degrees today

I turned the AC on in the car today.

Not because I was hot. But I had a few Hershey Kisses, and they were melting faster than I could unwrap them. So I cranked the AC and held the yummies up to the cold air until they firmed up. I did not enjoy the cold air, but I admit it has its uses.

Chocolate gone, AC off, windows down, welcome summer.

the pool has to come down

The swimming pool was a gift from my grandparents the year that Mom was diagnosed with cancer. I'm guessing that the two facts were related, but I was only eight at the time and wasn't specifically told, and I haven't asked since to verify. But I remember a lot specifically about the installation of the pool.

First, we went to see the model at Branch Brook. Mom and Dad measured out the backyard with sticks and string. Then the guys with machines (I'm a girl and don't know what they're called) came to dig a hole in the backyard. The guy operating the machine nicked the shed and tore off a half a shingle and gouged a gash in the wood. We had a really wet backyard, and the dirt hole they tore up soon turned into a mudpit.

This must have been late June, because Mommy had just had her surgery, still had drains, and was generally white-faced. The weather turned rainy, and the pre-pool mudhole turned into a lake. We four kids were going to VBS. The morning that the pool installers were coming, the five of us were outside with buckets bailing the water out of the hole. Our carpool came to pick us kids up, and I remember desperately wanting to stay at home to help Mom work in the mudhole. For one reason or another, I got in the van and went off to Pinecone Campground for another day of playing. I remember thinking how utterly ridiculous it was that four healthy kids were going off to play while Mom, with her incisions and drains and obvious pain, was in the backyard bailing water out of a mudpit so that guys could come install a pool for her kids to swim in. When we came home that evening, the pool was installed. Mom never said a word about how difficult it must have been for her. She was as excited as any of us at how nicely the water was filling the pool. She wasn't going in any time soon. She was going on chemo and would spend the majority of the next year on the couch sick.

I think of that day often. I wish, I wish, I wish that I had stayed home from VBS, had helped her work, had spent just one more afternoon with her. I didn't even like VBS, and I think that was the day that a little boy knocked over my can of soda, leaving me with nothing to drink. What a stupid thing for her to put herself out for, and she did it without a single complaint.

Now the pool is broken and needs to be taken down. And I want to mourn over the removal of a monument. In a way, the pool feels sacred. I can still stand out there and look over my shoulder at the pool and see her crouching in a mud pit, slinging water out of a bucket the way she was fifteen years ago as I left her behind.

He sat down!

My friends, Jesus paid it all.

Remember, when Christ was raised from the dead, all of our sins were in the future. And when Christ ascended to the Father, what does the writer of the book of Hebrews says he did?

He sat down.

In the priestly context of the book of Hebrews, the author is drawing a deliberate contrast between the work of Christ and the work of the priests in the tabernacle. Of all of the furniture in the tabernacle, what piece of furniture was missing? It was a chair! Because the work of the priests were never done. By contrast, the Son sat down because he made full payment for all of our sins.

And if there is anyone here who has not gone to God with your load of guilt because you think your sin is too great or too repetitive or too willful, you are guilty of buying into this lie of the devil of belittling the cross.

Dr. Jerry Hullinger, The Five Schemes of Satan (PCC chapel)

what it's not saying

And we hope think wish doubt guess feel know that God wants crosses his fingers causes some things nothing all things to fall apart disintegrate squeeze by work together for the worst in vain ruin good to those who couldn’t care less hate don’t believe in love fate karma the Force God, to those who feel like it are forced decide are called according to His whim purpose.

first day on the new job

Just a few things I enjoyed (loved) about today.

* sleeping in until 7
* wearing a watch
* not wearing a hat
* no Wawa rash
* listening to an entire RC Sproul sermon on the way to work
* relistening to the sermon on the way home
* enjoying lunch on an outside porch overlooking a lake
* not hearing a single curse word all day
* not hearing any gossip
* no flirting creepers
* learning new things
* meeting new people
* no sore feet
* grasping the opportunity to trust God to provide in an uncertain future

book review: The Revolutiory Paul Revere

I just finished reading The Revolutionary Paul Revere by Joel J. Miller. I enjoyed it a lot as a light biography. It was written in fluid language that was easy and entertaining to read. The Revolutionary War is one of my favorite periods of history, so it was interesting to read events from a well-known but little-explored point of view. It did not go deeply into historical events, but it went in depth enough to tie in the narration of Revere's life to the historical timeline. I thought the point of view was very fair and objective toward the different people and groups mentioned. Overall, it was a really good read.

another job interview!

I have a job interview tomorrow (Monday) at America's Keswick. I've been praying a lot this past week for contentment and a peaceful spirit. I tend to get really excited about things and then when they don't pan out, sink pretty low. I've followed that pattern too many times to count in my hunt for the Job-That-Isn't-Wawa, and I've been really convicted about my idolatrous heart. Tim Keller's book Counterfeit Gods opened my eyes to how I had made a little god out of career success. I don't want to do that again! I'm going to give thanks to the Lord, for HE IS GOOD!

Still, a different job would be nice. To that end, I am going into the interview and the days of uncertainty praying:

1. that God will use my life to glorify Himself. He is worthy of all honor and praise!
2. that I would be content with what God has for me, whatever that is and wherever that leads me.
3. that I would be willing to do hard things and take risks for the Savior and His Kingdom's sake.
4. that as I keep going back to Wawa day after day for however long, I do not begrudge the time and place that God has placed me in.

My desire is for a different job. My hope is in the righteous Lord, who intercedes for me before the Father.

Is He precious?

We all have our pet peeves and could bleat and scream and and snarl other people into listening. But I don't think the kingdom of Heaven is about my pet peeve. Or yours. Church history is full of Christians persecuting and being persecuted over peeves. Peripherals.

Baptism is not insignificant. Or the spiritual gifts. Or the regulative principle. Clothes, family, humanitarian efforts, social justice--all important.

But meaningless by themselves.

"Unto you that believe, he is precious." If you make doctrine the main thing, you are very likely to grow narrow-minded; if you make your own experience the main thing, you will become gloomy and censorious of others; if you make ordinance the main thing, you will be apt enough to grow merely formal; but you can never make too much of the living Christ Jesus. Remember that all things else are for his sake. Doctrines and ordinances are the planets, but Christ is the Sun; the stars of doctrine revolve around him as their great primal light. Get to love him best of all. Yea, I know you do, if ye are believing in him. You love the doctrines, and would not like to give one of them up, but still the incarnate God is the sum and substance of your confidence; Christ Jesus himself is precious to you.

Charles Spurgeon, A Sermon and a Reminiscence

I would like to stop talking about issues. Instead, may we talk about

-What is the Gospel?
-What did Jesus accomplish on the cross?
-Why did Jesus have to die?
-What is the work of the Holy Spirit?
-How may I be saved?
-How shall others be saved?
-How can I glorify God by my life?

This other stuff, this hugely important stuff, must be dealt with, but in its place. These other doctrines are means to knowing Him, to glorifying Him, to obeying Him, to telling others about Him, to living for His kingdom.

I don't want to waste my theology.

vulnerable

1. capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon: a vulnerable part of the body.
2. open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc

Feeling vulnerable, in both senses, and calling my spirit to rest in Jesus' strength and sympathy, not in my own ability to overcome all obstacles. There is only one shield, which is the Lord's salvation, but maybe the puny walls of my fort have been sacked, like the forts of leaves that we built as kids. Leaves don't stand up to any kind of force, but once you've arranged them just so, it's cozy inside. And with some mud and then snow, and some sticks, leaf forts aren't so frail anymore, until you give them a good kick. And the snow melts, and the mud dries and crumbles, the sticks fall over, and the leaves disintegrate into the wind.

But the Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God and my rock in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I AM saved from my enemies.

gold und silber

The Olympics are fascinating.

They are full of instruction on moral issues, to name a few: modesty, diligence, integrity, humility--and all their negatives. It's almost a shock to see where figure skating costumes have come since I was a little girl cuddling with my mom and sister, rooting for Victor Petrenko and Kristi Yamaguchi. Pairs skating and ice dancing are almost obscene. It's embarrassing to watch ice skating events in mixed company.

Diligence isn't always rewarded. Athletes work nonstop for their entire lives for Olympic medals--but someone always finishes last. Or fourth. And someone less talented than you or lazier than you could swoop in and easily win the gold. Just because you work hard doesn't mean you have earned or deserve a medal.

Integrity is required and mandated. Cheaters are not allowed to win...in theory. It would be interesting to see behind the scenes where no one knows to poke and see what sort of cheating, deceiving, and manipulating goes into Olympic preparations.

Humility is often feigned, but rarely practiced. How many athletes are brazen in their claims of self-determinism? Over and over come the claims that nothing can stop me, I can do anything, I'm in charge of my destiny. There's a heavy Invvictusly arrogant spirit that dwells in the heart of fallen man. We want to rebel against God and claim our independence. If we fail, it will be on our terms and in our way, whereas the truth is that our days have been ordained by God, and our talents and abilities are given to us by God. Athletes are athletes because of God's grace, when they could just as easily be paraplegics or klutzes or impoverished and without resources. The arrogance and self-credit with which most participants pat themselves on the back in either appreciation or sympathy is revolting to the Christian worldview.

The Olympics are helpful to me. Don't imitate.

theology matters

I'm supposed to blog here tomorrow about theology and why it is important.

And it is. I could wax eloquent for hours.

Except it's not coming. Feeling a little inadequate, a tendency to be a bit preachy and imperative. I'm a harsh writer and tend to be a little aggressive with absolute statements.

Tony Reinke blogged this quote this morning:

From Marilynne Robinson’s The Death of Adam: Essays on Modern Thought (Picador, 2005), page 117:

“Good theology is always a kind of giant and intricate poetry, like epic or saga. It is written for those who know the tale already, the urgent messages and the dying words, and who attend to its retelling with a special alertness, because the story has a claim on them and they on it. … Theology is written for the small community of those who would think of reading it. So it need not define freighted words like ‘faith’ or ‘grace’ but may instead reveal what they contain. To the degree that it does them any justice, its community of readers will say yes, enjoying the insight as their own and affirming it in that way.”

That's just beautiful. What more could I say?

[edit]And there it is.[/edit]

good mothers intuit good theology

"I think one of the biggest fears is we want to able to protect our children and do everything for them, and we can't. We can't. We will never be able to protect them fully. We can't change their hearts. We can train them, and we can discipline them, and we can do the best we can to point them toward God, but we can't change their hearts. That's God's job, and we have to trust Him for that. And it's hard to admit that to ourselves that we are frail and we can't do it. But if we're honest before God and pray and pray, He is faithful. He is a God who honors those who love Him and fear Him.

Do you think Miriam had a problem trusting God, seeing her mother trust God? Jochabed's faith was reproduced in her children, and that's because they saw it in action. And we have to be willing to be honest before them and say, "Hey guys, listen, I'm just petrified, but we're going to trust God." They respect that so much, our kids, when we do that. And they learn. We're discipling them that way. We're training them how to go to God when they're scared. And that's our goal, to reproduce our faith in them so that they would love God and serve Him with their whole heart. And if we're trusting Him, and we're in the word, and we're reverencing Him, and honoring Him, and praying, then we will be women of courage."

mommy
"Jochabed: dealing with fear"
not sure the setting
05/04/1994 --> pre-cancer

as long as we needed her

Listening to Mom cry, sorrowful that she probably would not see us grown--yet confident that God loves us more than she ever could and that we would have her as long as we needed her.

Dear relatives that have been separated, you will meet again in heaven. One of you has lost a mother—she is gone above; and if you follow the track of Jesus, you shall meet her there. Methinks I see yet another coming to meet you at the door of Paradise; and though the ties of natural affection may be in a measure forgotten,—I may be allowed to use a figure—how blessed would she be as she turned to God, and said, "Here am I, and the children that thou hast given me."

"Children of the kingdom!" do not think that a pious mother can save you. ...And the angel came, and said, "I must take the mother, she is a sheep: she must go to the right hand. The children are goats: they must go on the left." She thought as she went, her children clutched her, and said, "Mother, can we part? Must we be separated?" She then put her arms around them, and seemed to say, "My children, I would, if possible, take you with me." But in a moment the angel touched her; her cheeks were dried, and now, overcoming natural affection, being rendered supernatural and sublime, resigned to God's will, she said, "My children, I taught you well, I trained you up, and you forsook the ways of God; and now all I have to say is, Amen to you condemnation."

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, Heaven and Hell 

diving in the ocean of Your grace

I'm not sure when or where it happened, but my love for the debate has vanished, and the thought of engaging someone in verbal battle makes me want to vomit. Is this an "evidence of grace," as we would phrase it in care group? One hopes, because I was intolerable. I'm sure there are those who would say I still am intolerable. A little grace seen--much grace still needed.

Of course, were the situation to present itself, and I were in such a state of mind, or such a state of digestion, or such a state of fatigue, or such a state of rebellion, I imagine I could gallop away in debate and trample and surge over whoever stood in my path.

Yet that, too, He will forgive because He is faithful and righteous. Overwhelming grace.

O the deep, deep love of Jesus--
Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!--
Rolling as a mighty ocean
In its fullness over me--
Underneath me, all around me,
Is the current of Thy love,
Leading onward, leading homeward
To Thy glorious rest above.

never swayed

Robin promises to never let me be swayed by a charming, blue-eyed fellow, and she tells me that I must trust her to always care first and foremost about my spiritual well being.

That's my girl. She's bedrock.

Every overly-emotional, sappy, sentimental fool of a girl should make it a priority to get a sister like Robbie.

to comfort, in quiet

yesterday, a day devoted to prayer and fasting, was hard. splitting sinus headache, callouts at work, cranky customers, half-day for the highschoolers, an awful inherited shift, frustrations and irritations on the right and the left.

today, a day with no great spiritual significance, smooth sailing all around.



this afternoon i thought on job 23, amos 9, and ps. 139, and the ever-present presence of the Lord, whether for blessing or cursing. i love the old hymn (and its clever adaption by the mars hillbillies), "i bind unto myself today."
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in the hearts of all that love me,
Christ be with me this day.


Christ to comfort me.
Christ in quiet.
may my emotions never lead me astray from the sight of the unchanging, merciful Savior.
"

forget not His benefits

John Piper, and now Jonathan Edwards and a slew of Puritans. Topic: meditation. My status: generally failure. Repentance and prayer. Generally more failure.
John Piper preached,

Suppose you are feeling unworthy and unacceptable to God and generally a failure and having little motivation to rise above the sense of despondency. Now, you have lots of knowledge in your head of Christ's great deeds of old. And if someone says to you, "But don't you know that you are justified by faith and God looks on you in Christ as you cast yourself on him for mercy?" you might say, "Yes, I know that in my head, but it isn't having any effect on my feelings."

Indeed. And then Piper tears that idea down as lazy and passive and demonstrates what true "head knowledge" of the Gospel is and does. I've felt intimidated, not really sure where to begin, as if I were dipping my toe into a deep, deep sea.

Last week at work, this kept popping into my head: "Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not His benefits." I wrote it all over the place, on my write-off sheet, on the dry-erase boards, on the hoagie paper, napkins, receipts, everything. I couldn't get the phrase out of my head.

So last night I went and found the Psalm it comes from--One Hundred Three. I don't know that I have ever been so encouraged in all my life of God's presence and work in my life.

arrows in the hands of a warrior

I am listening to Mommy speak.

This is no small feat, as she has been dead for over a decade.

I do not fail to recognize God's blessing in this. First, that I live in a time period where we have the technology to record human voices. Not only that, but we can store them and even change the format to keep up with evolving technology, to the extent that over fifteen years after the recording was made, I am listening to my mom from my iPod. Second, that I even have recordings. I have four "sermonettes" from women's retreats and workshops that she taught. This is an uncommon blessing. Most people are never recorded speaking.

I even get a shoutout in one of them. Well, she refers to me by name, at any rate--calls me, "Jenny, the sloppy one." Thanks, Mom.


One "sermontte" is called "Arrows in the Hands of a Warrior." It's about being a mom. It's from a woman's retreat. This is the artwork for the retreat. Guess who painted it!

What fascinates me is that as she speaks, I recognize thoughts and philosophies that I thought originated in my own little mind--but she says them almost word-for-word and even mentions on how she intentionally fostered and planted those philosophies. (Philosophies is the wrong word, really, but I can't think of a better one.) I miss her.

the work with little fervor wrought

And today I generally goofed off. For a good deed, I fixed the podcast... which has been broken for two weeks without my noticing it, generally leading me to believe that it shall be fixed for another two weeks before anyone else notices that. It's the goofing off bit that worries me. I'm quite good at it. I watched a movie (which I never do except when I do) and fixed the podcast (okay, so that one is a good excuse--it took a long time) and organized my iTunes library and downloaded some D. A. Carson lectures and played with some graphics in Corel and talked to Robbie and is it ten o'clock already?

I have not served Thee as I ought--
Oh, the duties left undone!
The work with little fervor wrought,
The battles lost or scarcely won...
(Lord, give the zeal and give the might
For Thee to toil, for Thee to fight!)

I saw someone on Facebook today quote somebody famous (at least I assume he's famous), saying, "God doesn't call people who are qualified. He calls people who are willing and then He qualifies them." 

I'm so glad that's a false statement. I'm so thankful for Romans 8!! Thank God it's all of grace, because I'm willing in the truest sense of the term about oh, maybe three seconds a year? A decade? Thank God that He makes me willing, or as Jonathan Edwards said, tomorrow I would commit the most wicked sins I could conceive of. Like Spurgeon, I take great comfort and delight in one phrase--all of grace.