Tuesday, July 19, 2011

One Thousand Gifts: Loved this book!


Thankfulness brings transfiguration; gratitude, the path of grace. Eyes that see glory and beauty are won by it’s splendor. Trust conquers fear. This is merely a glimpse of the journey of Ann “full of grace” Voskamp, in her book One Thousand Gifts. It is real and raw. Gritty and tender. A truth journey. Her questions come, unafraid; not sure of answer, but so full of desire to be free from fear, doubt, bitterness, and pain. And as a fellow traveler, I found her journey refreshing, challenging, and affirming. My heart and mind full of “Amens!” and thank yous. For in a different setting and with a different song, He has sung me to my own place of rest, assurance, and freedom. “Fully here and fully alive.”

In mind, heart and soul, her poetic style was lyric that I understood. Words full of meaning, images that took me to her warm kitchen with bread baking, her wonder upon a glimmer of sunshine through window pane, her mind’s battle with temper over child's misbehavior. It is one part journal, one part Bible study, and all of it bathed in honesty. It resonates deeply to both the weary traveler and to the one who has found respite. It says, “Come walk with me as I struggle, and see it real. “ Not in glossy cliché or condescension, but real and hard and wondrous.

We can read of the promises to those who overcome, but what will the path of overcoming look like? We are often surprised by the pain of it and turn back. Yet her words challenge us to see differently. To press on. For "that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave." Then she asks, "But how? How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God-places?...How do I give up resentment for gratitude, gnawing anger for spilling joy? Self-focus for God-communion?...To fully live." These are the questions. This is the dilemma of Spirit over flesh.

Just like our journey, her road winds and the obstacles are many - loss, heartache, crippling fear, discontent, anger. But as she perseveres she invites us to do the same. To cultivate thankfulness, find grace, know joy. She ends the book, “In the orchard, the day’s first wind blows a thousand apple blossoms from the trees. They shower earth’s dark breast. I watch them fly. A snow of endless beauty. And I feel His caress.” As I read these last words my soul shouts, “And so do I!” Jesus, lover of my soul! He knows my darkest places and my stubborn rebellion, and still He woos me. He leads me to pastures of green, to quiet, healing waters, and has been my companion and strength through many a shadowy valley of death. 

He is my tender Shepherd, good and altogether faithful. He has given me eyes to see that all is grace. I feel it and I know it just as fully as I know the sound of my husband's footsteps and the voices of my own children. It is as sure as the morning sun and the evening moon. From beginning of life to last gasping breath, all is grace. Every joy, every sorrow blended in greatest wisdom yielding bread for the breaking, and bread enough to share. His grace is the deepest pool, the infinite gaze, the answer to eternal longing. Though journey be dark, He is light. Though grief shatters quiet, His song speaks solace. Though sin ravages unmerciful, He is tender Redeemer of all things. Champion. Lord. He is good. Always.

His grace is always at work, teaching eyes to see and hearts to give thanks, turning ugliness to beauty, if we would only hold out our hands and receive. For in this world of the shattered Eden, where man’s rejection of God takes flesh in every headline of horror and in each heart’s secret pain, His still voice still beckons, “Behold, I am making all things new! Behold...see! Come away with me into grace!” Oh, loved one of God, His gifts are everywhere! In Him there is life and healing and hope for the traveler.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my son
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, all is at rest
I in my Savior am happy and blest
Watching and waiting, looking above
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.    ~Frances J. Crosby, 1873

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Digging In the Dirt


Little sounds register somewhere behind the din of grown up conversation. Laughter, grunts, the occasional scuffle. Childlike sounds. Busy sounds. Rounding the corner of the house, there they are - shorts, t-shirts, skirts, curls, faces smudged and feet even smudgier - digging in the dirt. In this age of techno toys, isn’t it wonderful to watch children play with their own imaginations instead of someone else’s? No batteries required, just shovels and spoons. No animated world, but real earth and dirt, rocks and sticks. 

The party of adults, who would probably only get that dirty for some "real" purpose, can’t help but smile. Do those tiny miners have a common agenda or each a secret wish as they labor side by side? Are they digging an earthen fortress or looking for buried treasure? Are they still in the backyard or transported to another world where fantasy is fact and time is endless? We who only sit and watch will never know. But how earnestly they dig! Working so hard at their play. Toiling for wonder and hidden possibility. Such a simple picture that takes us back to simpler days when we too were the miners and every march to the dirt pile held promise. 

(Reflections from a visit to Timothy's backyard on the 4th of July)