My Jesus makes all things new.

Photo by discutant, flickr

 

there have been a lot of things to love about this year that is rapidly drawing to an end (two weeks left of school!). i have loved living in south nashville for the past year and discovering all the love that this part of town has to offer. i don’t know what the future holds and it’s a little sad to imagine never living in south nasty again. the thing i will most definitely miss most about this part of town is the ag center. it’s like my secret, private park, and she has become a good friend. during my run there this afternoon, i realized how much i have learned and loved this place.

i first met her in the hot july heat of moving to nashville. i met her full of snakes and mosquitoes and sweat, and i developed a happy friendship with her.

i watched the leaves change. i ate picnics on her lawns and read books while watching horses graze nearby. i sat at the banks of her creeks and i met with God on her trails. i went after school until it got dark too early and then i went every weekend. if it sounds idyllic, that’s because it is. if you were ever going to see a unicorn anywhere, it would be at ellington agricultural center.

and then winter came. i ran in the rain and in the cold and in the mud and the dead branches, but i ran less and less. i’m humiliated by how utterly i abandoned going outside, running, and meeting God on those trails, but i hibernated during the winter.

it was hard to wake up from that hibernation, but yesterday i finally went back for a run. to my delight, there are wildflowers growing on the hillsides and the irises in the iris garden have, for the first time since i have lived here, bloomed. on my run today i realized how much i have missed the presence of this sanctuary in my life. i have always felt God’s presence most when enjoying his creation, and this afternoon i found myself praying that he would keep others away from this place for just a little while longer, so that i could run through the woods in communion with my Father and without distractions. i sang and i ran and i talked and i embraced. and He came through- i saw almost no one else the whole time i was running.

the branches are so full of leaves and new life right now that they can’t support the weight. it’s like during the winter of no leaves they forgot how heavy this was, and they’re bending across the paths and bowing low to the ground. that’s how i felt running through those woods today- heavy with new life, new excitement, new adventures, new encouragement. it’s weighty and worth it, and i bow low in honor and thankfulness for the new life on my branches.

 

Come broken and weary
Come battered and bruised
My Jesus makes all things new
All things new

Come lost and abandoned
Come blown by the wind
He’ll bring you back home again
Home again

Rise up, O you sleeper, awake
The dawn is upon you
Rise up, O you sleeper, awake
He makes all things new
All things new

Come burning with shame
Come frozen with guilt
My Jesus, he loves you still
Loves you still

Rise up, O you sleeper, awake
The dawn is upon you
Rise up, O you sleeper, awake
He makes all things new
He makes all things new

The world was good
The world is fallen
The world will be redeemed

So hold on to the promise
The stories are true
That Jesus makes all things new
(The dawn is upon you)

Listen to the song here. 

And hold on to the promise: the stories are true, that Jesus makes all things new.

More beautiful for having been broken

Apparently spring break is inspiring for me: three blog posts in three days! At first I hesitated to post this today because it’s April Fool’s Day and this isn’t a prank or a silly post, but I really liked it so I’m going ahead with it. 

 

I recently read this article about a beautiful ceramics repair technique used in ancient Japan (and then couldn’t stop Googling for more information about it). The story goes that in the 15th century, a Japanese shogun sent his broken pottery to China for repair and was dissatisfied with the result. Convinced that the repair could be done better, he had Japanese craftsmen repair it again using gold lacquer to mend the cracks beautifully and rendering the piece of pottery more valuable after having been broken. This method became known as kintsugi, which means “to patch with gold”.

Indeed the examples of kintsugi I have found online are very beautiful and unique, and the beauty added from the repair is evident. The cultural implications of the practice are also fascinating. Rather than attempting to hide the repair work and any evidence of having ever been broken, kintsugi emphasizes the scars on the pieces and highlights them with the understanding that the broken pieces are what make the whole unique and beautiful. Kintsugi is quite difficult and the more intricate the repair work necessary, the more valuable the piece becomes. Therefore, a master craftsman would be one who could recreate something that had been deemed beyond repair.

The other interesting outcome of the kintsugi method is that it was not used on solely Japanese ceramics. Japanese artisans would also repair broken Chinese and Korean pottery using this method. As the Washington Post article says, in this way the Japanese craftsman doesn’t just find and repair old Chinese and Korean pottery: “He marks them forever as distinctly Japanese.”

 

May you, today, believe that you are more beautiful for having been broken. May you see that the Craftsman who diligently worked on the repair did not mean for your cracks to remain hidden: he has filled them in with gold! May you understand that his gilded repair has the power to show the world the majesty and perfection of the One who had the skill to put your many, many broken pieces into an improved whole. And may you bravely show your golden scars, because the golden seams mark you forever as distinctly His. 

Easter Jesus

John 20:11-16

Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”  At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

I can imagine how Mary was feeling. She had given up everything to follow this man she believed to be the Messiah. Her identity was tied up in him, and he had been not only a teacher and religious leader, but a close friend and loved one. And now it looked like he must have been a raving madman, because he didn’t do what he said he would. He was supposed to change everything, and instead, he died.

I imagine that at first, Mary grieved because of the loss of a dear friend. She had loved Jesus, confided in him, trusted him, and he had left and she was mourning.

Then I imagine she grieved the loss of her faith, the loss of her understanding of the world. If Jesus wasn’t the only way, where should she center her life now? What should she do with all the things she had supposedly learned from him?

From there, I’m sure it was easy to feel angry and betrayed. Why had she walked away from her old life only to be let down? Now she was a target and the disciples had to be in hiding, all for a false prophet who had lied to them. How could he! If only she had never met Jesus, she would have been better off.

In the middle of all of these feelings, she wakes up early to visit the tomb. She still felt some loyalty and respect and love for Jesus. I imagine as she walked up to the tomb and saw that the stone was moved, she assumed someone else was in there working on putting some good smelling stuff down and finishing up the burial rites correctly. She might have felt a little nervous as she peeked around the corner into the tomb, but I am sure she felt confused and angry and frightened when she realized that no one was in there- including Jesus, who wasn’t supposed to be able to move anymore.

And then we arrive at this scene. Mary is confused and angry and scared, crying outside the tomb. And Jesus shows up in the middle of the mess he brought her into. Jesus shows up and asks why she’s crying.

Honestly, it’s always made me a little mad that Jesus greets her with, “Woman, why are you crying?” First, he certainly knows why she’s crying. This is just a cruel rhetorical question. But to add insult to injury, Mary is crying because Jesus has left her. She doesn’t just feel abandoned by Jesus or alone in the world, she isn’t just going through a “dry spell”, and most importantly this isn’t going to get better. Jesus has literally died and she watched it happen. He actually has left her and all of his followers in the middle of a really big mess. And he asks why she’s crying.

Mary, to her credit, says the ancient Hebrew equivalent of, “Look man, it’s been an emotional week and I’m not in the mood for chit chat. If you know where the guy who was buried in this tomb yesterday is now, I’ll go get him from wherever that is, no questions asked.” I imagine she was glaring at the “gardener” through her tears, daring him with her eyes to say anything else to her. I’ve heard people guess that perhaps she didn’t really look up at him, or that it was hard to see him, but I don’t think so. I think she stared at him hard and angry.

And then, the impossible. The gardener, whispering, taking a step closer, apology and sorrow in his eyes, says, “Mary”. He calls her name, and she can see. There is not a moment of hesitation, not a moment of “But I watched you die…”, no recorded disbelief, just a joyful realization. “Rabboni!”

Because when Jesus is gone, not just far away, but dead and gone, there is no hope, only confusion and anger and sorrow. But in a resurrected Jesus, an Easter Jesus, who calls out my name, even when it feels like he’s been gone for a long long time and I don’t know whether I feel confused or angry or sad anymore, when that Jesus calls out my name, there is joy and hope. Joy and hope and not even a moment of hesitation.

May the Easter Jesus who lives on today call out your name and restore your hope and joy in him.

happy st. patrick’s day!

an irish poem, to celebrate.

Ode

By Arthur O’Shaughnessy

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,	5
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world’s great cities,	10
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire’s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song’s measure	15
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;	20
And o’erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world’s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

psalm 63:1

last summer, i spent three awesome days hiking a tiny section on the appalachian trail with four of the only friends who i would ever let see me in that state. we stuffed our packs full of WAY TOO MUCH food and gear and headed out on a day that forecasted “severe thunderstorms”, beginning an adventure that could be chronicled in probably 15 blog posts. Highlights included when the severe weather actually came, breaking my water bottle by throwing it at a tree, the bear/raccoon in the middle of the night, everything we owned being soaked and attempting to dry it on top of our packs as we hiked, the dog we fed oatmeal to, impressive views and fascinating thru-hikers. if you want to hear stories, just ask. i will talk for as long as you’ll listen.

recently i was reminded of the last day of our trip, when the rain from two days before was long forgotten and we were nearly out of water. we were hiking what looked (according to the map) like the smallest of the three peaks we were hiking, and we were trying to hike out that afternoon to shorten our trip by one night (because of nine hours of driving home left, not necessarily because we weren’t enjoying ourselves…). unfortunately, it was summer in virginia and it was a hot day, and despite having filled our water bottles up before leaving camp, there weren’t any streams for a good long way and the tiny stream on the map looked like it might be dry, especially with how hot it was. the tiny mountain turned out to be the steepest we hiked and the path had so many switchbacks that we had to stop every few corners to take a breather (it didn’t help that our packs still probably weighed over 30 pounds each… flirting with what it was really safe for us to be carrying).

i remember stopping for lunch. at least two of us had already drank all of our water. we shared and made conscious efforts to ration our water, but it was getting hotter and we were still trying to walk fast. not having water makes me very nervous. i get bad headaches when i get dehydrated and i know it doesn’t take much for me to get dehydrated (me and my water bottle are usually pretty tight).

at one point, a few of us towards the front had stopped for a breather and to let everyone catch up. we were assessing our water situation, and it wasn’t looking great. we couldn’t figure out how much further we had to the summit of the tiny mountain and we still had to do all of the downhill before we reached the stream. someone finally asked the question everyone was thinking: “what will we do if we run out of water?” we stood silently for a moment, taking small guilty sips and trying to find our least-salty snacks to eat. finally, i said, “well, we’ll just have to keep walking.”

it was meant to be a lighthearted, somewhat sarcastic comment, but we only laughed because it was so true. stopping or going backwards certainly wouldn’t help at this point. there was no cell service. we weren’t going to be able to create our own water or satisfy our thirst with anything but water. if we ran out of water, we’d keep walking until we found water or passed out from dehydration. because when you’re thirsty, you keep walking until you find water. there’s nothing else to do.

as it turned out, we weren’t that far from the top, and we weren’t even totally out of water by the time we got to the tiny stream on the other side of the mountain (which was small but had enough water to pump). we made it out and drove home safely and showered and had ice cream before bed that night. i promptly forgot what it was like to be thirsty.

when you’re thirsty, you have to keep walking. there’s nothing else to do.

photo credit to karen laws. this is me assessing where the deepest part of this stream might be for pumping water. and clearly feeling overjoyed on the inside about having found water.

ps backpacking friends from last summer- when are we planning outdoor adventure 2013?! i’m in!

snot.

i have been sick with a very stuffy nose for what feels like forever but what has in actuality been about a week and a half. and let me tell you, there are a couple of times when a stuffy nose can be really, excessively inconvenient.

first, at a faculty meeting before you really realize you’re getting sick. you will never feel so conspicuous as you do at a staff meeting sniffling like your life depends on it without a napkin, tissue, piece of cloth not attached to your shirtsleeves, or anything else that could possibly used to wipe your nose (until your wonderful coworker finds a tissue in the bottom of her purse). 

second, when you’ve taken too many decongestants and at the end of a long day of teaching when you’re wearing a white sweater you get a bloody nose all over the copies you were going to make for tomorrow. that’s how you know it’s time to go home, too.

third, when you’re praying with a group of people. there are not a lot of times in life when you intentionally sit with your head bowed forward for long periods of time, but praying is one of them and it turns your nose into a little faucet for all the snot that has been getting comfortable in your sinuses all day. and the main problem when you’re praying with a group is that it’s really quiet, so everyone hears your frequent sniffles and snorts. 

so eventually while you’re sitting there, if the prayer is going on long enough, you’ll decide that it’s probably better to just stop bowing your head and to sit up a little bit. and then maybe you’ll even tip your head back a little bit to try to stop this humiliating and ridiculous flow of snot.

and then while you’re staring at the ceiling (and the prayer is going on and on), maybe your mind will wander a little bit to why we even bow our heads in prayer in the first place. and you’ll think about bowing in general and that maybe it’s supposed to be a little more humiliating and ridiculous than we usually make it out to be. that maybe we’re supposed to pray with snot dripping down our faces because we are so much lower than that which we pray to. in fact, you might realize that you would still think more highly of yourself with snot running down your face standing in front of the whole church than you should ever think of yourself in front of a Holy God.

and then finally everyone will stop praying and you’ll feel guilty for not really praying and for thinking too highly of yourself and too little of God and confused and possibly more than anything else in desperate need of a tissue (thankfully you brought your own). and you’ll make your small talk and say your goodbyes and start to drive home and a song with a truth you don’t want to think about will come on, so you change the station, and the same song is on that station too, so you change the station, and the same song is on there too and maybe God can speak through music that makes you cringe.

Your love never fails it never gives up it never runs out on me.

even if i should be covered in more snot than i am compared to God and even if i’m guilty of more than i can admit and even if i’m confused and full of doubt…

this one thing remains.

i hope you realize how snot-filled you really are (just like the rest of us) and maybe see how this one thing that remains makes God even bigger and holier and lovelier than you thought before. maybe. and i hope even if you don’t realize it today, that you struggle with it. i’m trying to.

advent week one: hope and prophecy

my dad asked today when my advent posts would start, so i guess it’s time to say something about this wonderful season it’s already here- the first week of advent! in some traditions, this week signifies the hope and prophecies. they celebrate looking back at a time when people had faith in a messiah that they had only heard whispers about and would never meet in their lifetime. the faith they had is finally fully satisfied in the Christ who comes, but they believed well before he was ever conceived. they believed the promises of God before they became “yes” and “amen” in Christ (2 Cor. 1:20). 

there is so much to say about this expectant longing, and i have been going back and forth about what way to go. last year i shared songs that had advent themes, and this year i’ve decided i’m going to share children’s books that have advent themes. as an elementary school teacher in a public school, i unfortunately never have the opportunity to share with my students the revolutionary truth that this season is about God With Us, and that he loves them perfectly and unconditionally. i do, however, have a lot of great christmas children’s books, so i will share them all with you.

this week, i want to share a story that’s not solely a Christmas story (though Christmas is a feature). i do think it illustrates hope in something we can’t taste yet, in something that’s been promised but we can’t experience or imagine yet. The Tale of the Three Trees is one of my favorite children’s books (disclaimer: i will probably say that every week). in the story, three trees are growing on a hillside and each of them has dreams for what they hope will happen in their life. one tree hopes to be a treasure chest. one tree hopes to be a strong sailing ship, and one tree wishes to be the tallest tree in the world: she wants people to look at her and give glory to God.

as i’m sure you can imagine, the hopes of the three trees were not quite fulfilled in the way they had expected. each tree is chopped down in turn (especially disappointing for the third tree). the first tree is made into a feed box for animals, the second tree made into a small dinghy, and the third tree is simply cut into lumber. it seems that their hopes have been dashed. what they had expected could not possibly come to happen, and the third tree had only wanted to glorify God. why would he not fulfill that hope for her?

of course the story doesn’t end there. the first tree, now a manger, is blessed to hold a bigger treasure than it could have possibly contained in a treasure chest- Jesus. the second tree, now a small fishing boat, holds Jesus and his disciples when Jesus calms the storm, and has it’s hopes fulfilled by carrying the King of Kings. the third tree is carried on through an angry crowd and has Christ nailed to her to die. how much more glory was God given in that act than he would have been through the tallest tree in the world?

Jesus fulfilled all of the many prophecies that had been made about him, but remarkably he still didn’t fulfill what people had expected. the God-man was the perfect completion of everything humanity had hoped for, and still they seemed disappointed in him for not riding into human battle for them.

this Christmas, i pray that we would remember that all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory. even if it seems like whatever you are going through cannot line up with what God has promised for you, he will fulfill his will to his greatest glory in all things. 

so light a candle. give thanks that our hope has been fulfilled tangibly in Emmanuel. and hope. God cannot but remember his promises. 

it’s coming.

advent is coming, kids. see last year’s post (and subsequent series of posts) on why i love this season, or the year before’s post about what the season is all about (and why college students understand it better than anyone else- i thought i really knew something about the world, i guess )

i have been preparing for advent and celebrating thanksgiving with some serious crafting and decorating in celebration of the beginning of the christmas season! i was going to spend this morning doing laundry and cleaning my house, but we have no hot water again, so instead i’m crafting and decorating more (and now showing off on here). here’s some of the fun that one black friday trip to michael’s and goodwill (excellent christmas decoration spot, fyi) brought!

cute basket filled with cinnamon smelling mini pinecones

i painted these blocks and i really like how they came out! i may move them into my classroom.

i love this, but…

someone else does not. seconds after this shot was taken, he jumped up and knocked the bow off, again.

cute christmas pillow goodwill finds

this was definitely the biggest project of the holiday. i painted all of this without a paint pen. be impressed. the cursive in the middle has the text of isaiah 9:2.

advent posts will be starting soon! in the meantime, stay thankful happy thanksgiving, friends.

stupid mercies.

by the grace of God, my family and friends are all fine (and finally all with power again) post-Sandy and post- early snow storm. not all have been so fortunate. this blog post is an account of a family who was not so fortunate. you really should read it- it is humbling and beautiful. i almost feel that i should just direct you there and stop talking

in celebration of thanks-vent (see my last post), and in homage to the beautiful family ritual from that blog post, i have been looking for God in my everyday life, seeking to find him in the details. and as i develop this habit of looking, i find that i cannot help but seeing. here is just a sampling of where i have found God this week.

i see God in the face of the difficult boy asking, “Miss H, I did good today? I was good today?”

i see God in 75 degrees and sunny in november.

i see God in grandparents who still hold hands.

i see God in every story that has ever been told.

in the sweet girl who finally has the confidence to speak audibly after nine years of silence.

in toddler giggles.

in crying together.

in foggy mornings.

in music.

in waking up on time when i forgot to set my alarm.

in sharing a meal.

in perfect timing.

 

the list goes on and on. i have it open on my computer at home and at work and add to it as i recognize the stupid mercies of the everyday are all ordained and on-purpose. i do not deserve the mercy of teaching these children made in His image. i do not deserve to wake up on time when i didn’t set my alarm. i don’t deserve 75 and sunny today. but i have received even stupid mercies because this world is filled up with God’s love and as i seek to find that again, i find that i cannot escape it.

 

lamentations 3:22-24 (the message):

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
    his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
    How great your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).
    He’s all I’ve got left.

 

amen.

days of dust

Well I came home like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of dust, which we’ve known
Will blow away with this new sun

And I’ll kneel down, wait for now
And I’ll kneel down know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

So break my step, and relent
Well you forgave, and I won’t forget
Know what we’ve seen and him with less
Now in some way shake the excess

But I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

Now I’ll be bold as well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So tame my flesh and fix my eyes
A tethered mind freed from the lies

But I’ll kneel down, wait for now
I’ll kneel down know my ground

Raise my hands, paint my spirit gold
Bow my head, keep my heart slow

‘Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

 

it’s thanks-vent, friends (the advent of thanksgiving). today i am thankful for good music and that people vote in schools (no children tomorrow!). what are you thankful for today?