Lord – Marilyn R. Gardner

Sometimes it Takes a Hundred Alleluias

Published on January 20, 2013January 20, 2013 by Marilyn5 Comments

icons, orthodoxy It seemed to me that it was at the 100th Alleluia that I finally let my guard down, put the tension and burdens of the week at the foot of the cross, began to look up instead of down and across.

Sometimes it takes a hundred Alleluias – sometimes it takes a thousand.

Somewhere during the process of saying the words I allowed myself to give up being a poor substitute for a deity and allow God to be God. I began to give up my need to control and offer up reins and a mouth bit to a Holy God. I realized that the depth of my heart cried out for miracles, even as my head refused to believe they were possible.

It’s at that hundredth Alleluia and the fiftieth ‘Lord Have Mercy’ that my soul begins to believe the words and rest in the God who made me – the Giver of all Life.

Today? Today it make take a thousand. But of this I am assured, the resting will come.

The Alleluia After Epiphany (prayers4reparation.wordpress.com)

Evidence of Grace

Published on January 17, 2013 by Marilyn14 Comments

It snowed yesterday. Huge flakes came down and painted the world white and fluffy. It was that perfect sort of snow. The light, pretty, I can see each separate flake kind of snow.

The fact that I just wrote the word ‘pretty’ in the same sentence as ‘snow’? This is evidence of Grace. My attitude toward yesterday’s snow is evidence of Grace.

When we left Massachusetts to move to Phoenix in 2003, I wiped the snow off my boots and vowed I would never see a snowflake again. Snow represented all that is cold and hurtful. It represented a place that didn’t like me. It represented alienation and pain and crisis after crisis. And I stepped off the plane in Phoenix into sun and expansive blue desert sky and all that was behind me.

And then five years ago we moved back in the middle of December. Back to four feet of snow. Back to the cold.

We moved back and I was terrified. Terrified that I would once again feel alienated in a cold Northeast world.

So yesterday, as I walked slowly to the subway with frequent stops to catch the beauty of the snow, was evidence of His Grace. This transformation — this would never have happened without some deep soul-work, like a surgeon with a sharp scalpel cuts into the skin and carefully removes the diseased tissue. It is, without doubt, the work of God in me – and the evidence may seem silly, but to me it’s miraculous. I stop and I take pictures of snow. I smile as the snowflakes hit my nose and make my scarf wet. I don’t hate where I live.

This is evidence of Grace. My delight in the snow all around is evidence of God-given Grace.

Where do you see evidence of Grace?

“When he arrived and saw evidence of the Grace of God, he was glad and encouraged them all to remain true to the Lord with all their hearts”. Acts 11:23

Can’t Get Enough of Grace (mytropicalhome.wordpress.com)
Grace & Perspective (wordjat.wordpress.com)

Gifts of the Season

Published on January 11, 2013 by Marilyn7 Comments

In this post Robynn beautifully wraps up Christmas for us by giving us a glimpse of the gifts of the season.

************************

There was wrapping paper and bows everywhere. There was a lovely tree full of sentiment and ornament. But here’s the best of what I received this Christmas:

*Our friend from Christmas past, John, came through the week before Christmas Day. He brought a box full of various shampoos. I know it’s awfully random but it pleased me.

*Adelaide wanted to buy her “enemy” a present with her very own money. She thought it might change her heart toward this girl at school she struggles to like. I don’t know if it did. But it changed mine thinking she would do that.

*A friend, fellow church goer, close associate wrote me a letter a week before Christmas and apologized for pain she had caused me nearly 7 years ago. It made me cry. I had moved on–I had chosen to forgive without the apology. But her letter softened my heart and filled me with a quiet peace. She is released. And I am lighter for it.

*I have a kind mother-in-law who suffers great physical pain. She has for years. Seeing her face light up at the sight of her granddaughters blessed me. It’s a gift to have her in our lives and to live so close to them now is sweet privilege.

*A boy in Bronwynn’s class greeted me on the way to school the other morning with a finger pointing up to the sky. An enormous flock of geese flew overhead. Look at the Birds! I did. And my faith grew as I remembered Jesus cares. And I told Ryan to have a great day. He had made mine.

*A tattered envelope arrived all by itself on December 21. The bottom was mostly torn off, the contents hung precariously inside. And in it was an enormous check for an insanely large amount from sacrificial saints. And I cried.

*I loved seeing Connor, our 15-year-old son, decked out in his tuxedo, singing with 79 other public high school students, “Rejoice, Sing Praises to the Lord our God”. It was worship in an unexpected place. The force of it, the harmonies, the potential of it all brought tears to my eyes.

Grace just shows up! We are changed when we notice it and offer it hospitality.

That’s the essence of my one resolution this year: Notice. Invite. Embrace. Change.

What are your gifts from the season? Would love it if you shared with us through the comments!

“My Weary Wheels Need a Rest”

Published on December 30, 2012December 30, 2012 by Marilyn9 Comments

Lightbulb After an outing that included a hike up a hill, my brother’s grandson, David, remarked to my sister-in-law “Grandma, my weary wheels need a rest!”.

These words from a not quite three-year old. Wisdom indeed!

It’s how I feel. My weary wheels need a rest. Sickness has crowded out our energy and sucked up the fresh smell of pine and cinnamon. Tiredness and uncertainty have camped out in our living space. We can’t keep up with tea and Tylenol.

Snow came last night and so the world outside is a white wonderland. And we’re giving ourselves permission to just ‘be’.

In a society that judges worth by occupation and productivity, letting our weary wheels rest isn’t easy. Sometimes it takes a fever to knock us down, force us to our couches, our knees…and to our moms.

And it was my mom that reminded me of Isaiah 40. The title says it all “Comfort for God’s People.” The words are a comfort for weary wheels.

Today, if your weary wheels need a rest, sit down, put your feet up and read Isaiah 40.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

Complaining or Lamenting

Published on November 15, 2012November 15, 2012 by Marilyn12 Comments

I struggle with the ‘in all things give thanks’ piece of scripture. I know. I know. Many of us have read with poetic passion Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts and no doubt most of us think it is an amazing book. We marvel at how we feel as we begin to keep that journal and give thanks. Initially words fly onto the pages, our pens barely keeping up with the flowing ink.

And then life happens with all its fights, disease, chaos, uncertainty, and discord. And suddenly the pen feels heavy on our paper, the passion is gone. We shout “Where is Ann Voskamp when I need her?” (and Ann undoubtedly shouts back “You’re supposed to say “Where is God, NOT Where is Ann!”)

I think what I haven’t always understood is that lamenting, and by that I mean true grief over a broken world, a broken relationship, a death, is not complaining. Lamenting is aching for a world that is not as it should be. Lamenting is crying out to a God who cares that it’s not as it should be. Lamenting is giving appropriate voice to those things that disappoint, those things that grieve.

If God had wanted our constant happiness he would have created wind-up robots – instead he asks for our deepest trust, faith, and yes – a lamenting now and then. We have evidence of this through the book of Lamentations where the prophet Jeremiah laments for the fall of Jerusalem. He’s in solitude in a fixed posture of grief. He cries out to God with his whole being – from his toes to his nose. And through his cries we are given a portrait of one in anguish.

“He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall. He has broken my teeth with gravel; he has trampled me in the dust.I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. So I say, ‘My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the LORD.’ I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.”*

Laments can heal the soul because they take us back to God as God. While complaints lead us into an abyss of discontent and wondering why the manna went bad, laments get at the core of the human heart, the dilemma of living out truth in a broken world.

At the end of complaining is greater discontent; at the end of lamenting is the whisper of hope, for at the end of the bitterness and gall is this: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.”*

*Lamentations 3: 15-20 *Lamentations 3:21,22

Blogger’s note – and today I am lamenting for Israel and Gaza as rockets fly and civilians are killed. My heart goes out to those who have already died with prayers for what seems an impossible peace.

Removing the High Places

Published on October 7, 2012 by Marilyn2 Comments

The books of the Kings in the Old Testament have a fairly simple way of evaluating leaders: they either did what was good and right in the eyes of the Lord, or they did what was evil. The rest of the information about their kingdoms we are told we can find in the Annals of the Kings of Israel.

One phrase is used over and over in these books: removing the high places.“He did evil, he did not remove the high places” or “He did good, but he did not remove the high places, “He did good, he removed the high places”.

The High Places were places of idolatry. They were literally ‘high places’: hills and ridges looked up to by those in the lower lands. They usually had an altar or a pole — something symbolic of worship focusing on man and not God. It was an exchange; exchanging looking up to Heaven and to a sovereign God with looking up to the hills. “Exchanging the truth of God for a lie”; a poor substitute yet a comfort of sorts.

The Psalmist speaks of those high places. “I look up to the hills, where does my help come from?” The question lays it out – does help, does security, does strength, come from the hills? Come from the high places – those places of false promise and deceptive dreams?

It got me thinking about the ‘high places’ in my life. The high places have included jobs, status, reputation, ministry, even parenting (when they were little and did what I wanted) — sadly the list is endless. I hang onto these high places with a tight fist and greedy fingers. If I give them up, what then? Where will I hang my allegiance? The high places are often compelling – they are present and I can see them; they give instant gratification and temporary security; a pay check and affirmation. The high places are easy. They are already there and besides, others look to them, why not me?

And yet I want to be known as one who did good and got rid of the high places, no matter what it takes.

There are times when God has forcibly removed those high places; times when I have sensed he loves me too much to allow me to continue on the path of idolatry. Other times, while there have been warning signs not to look to the high places, I haven’t always heeded them.

The Psalmist answers his own question later in the verse “My help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and Earth”. It’s the verbal commitment to renounce that which is false and exchange it with truth; to take down those high places and replace them with God himself.

Today may my prayer echo that of the Psalmist and in that echo may my worship be transformed.

At the Intersection of Despair and Confusion

Published on August 19, 2012 by Marilyn14 Comments

It’s so easy to lose faith, to lose heart.

I sat on the subway staring at an advertisement for higher education. The ad showed a map of streets with a bubble over the top “At the intersection of Career and Success”. I stared at it for some time, quite possibly to avoid eye contact with the person opposite me. Ah yes….I am becoming quite Bostonian.

As I stared, I thought if this was a bubble over the map of my current world it would say “At the intersection of despair and confusion” Quite a contrast to the hope portrayed in the ad.

I have been here before, and I know “this too shall pass”. When this bubble appears over my life I am at a place where I’ve no choice but to fling myself on God’s mercy, to pray passionately that he will comfort, intervene, give hope and wisdom.

The intersection of despair and confusion will soon be replaced by a different intersection because that’s what life does. But right now I feel I’m in a traffic jam, stuck at this intersection with cars all around honking for me to move — they don’t see the red light in front of me.

In the midst of these thoughts I close my eyes and hear the words of the Psalmist in Psalm 40:

Do not withhold your mercy from me, Lord;
may your love and faithfulness always protect me.
For troubles without number surround me;
my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see.
They are more than the hairs of my head,
and my heart fails within me.
Be pleased to save me, Lord;
come quickly, Lord, to help me.

At the intersection of Despair and Confusion I turn to the only One who can give me wisdom and strength — the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

God of miracle babies and ladders to Heaven; God who wrestles and marks for life; God of laughter and mercy. A God who will turn despair and confusion into hope and clarity.

The Psalm 139 Challenge

Published on August 17, 2012August 17, 2012 by Marilyn10 Comments

The Psalm 139 Challenge – Fridays with Robynn
I still remember the challenge that Debby gave us: memorize Psalm 139. For four years she was my dorm mother at our small “Nestled ‘neath the great Himalayas” boarding school, and for four years the challenge remained the same: see if you can memorize Psalm 139. There must have been some sort of incentive, high school girls rarely agree without one, but I can’t remember what that was.

You see, I find myself now the age Debby was when she dared us to take on the Psalm. I’m forty-two years old and I’ve recently stumbled again in to the arms of Psalm 139.

And I love it.

It’s deeply consoling and reassuring. And I think I finally understand Debby’s deep attachment to it all those years ago.

This psalm of David speaks repeatedly of how well the Lord knows us. It doesn’t merely mention it once or twice. Oh no. The Psalmist wants us to be certain,

“Oh Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.” Psalm 139:1-5

It’s unnerving and overwhelming, even to King David who writes in verse 6,

“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand.”

But he won’t let it rest,

“I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your Presence! If I go to heaven you are there. If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me. I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night—but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” Psalm 139:7-12

To a room full of high school girls, such a Formidable Presence of a God wasn’t necessarily what we were looking for. The All Knowing God wasn’t our ideal deity. We had secret crushes, late night clandestine rendezvous (okay, most of them were in our dreams—but every once in a while we’d actually manage one)! We had serious doubts and relentless questions. We had our cliques and our dramatic divisions. There were sins, flirtations and temptations. There were hidden tears and muffled sobs. Insecurities, rebellions, deceptions played hide and seek in our souls.

We weren’t interested in a God who truly knew us. We didn’t like Him knowing where we stood, who we sat with, what words we were thinking to use but not quite daring to.

And we certainly shirked from the Psalms great climax:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” Psalm 139:23-24

However, we were quite happy to know the God which every graduation card and yearbook signature attested to. The God who, “(knew) the plans (He had) for (us)…plans for good and not for disaster, to give (us) a future and a hope”. The God of Jeremiah 29:11. That was a safe, promising God – a God of the Future and of a happy ending.

This other God knew too much. He knew way too much!

But now that I’m in my forties I think I understand. There seems to be a fresh round of horrors in the forties. Some of the same adolescent questions continue to haunt: Who am I? Who am I really? Where do I belong? Where am I from? Why am I here? Where am I going? What’s my purpose? For the adult Third Culture Kid our midlife crises are traced with the same old questions…only in this decade those questions seem louder and less easily silenced.

Now I read Psalm 139 and I am consoled. It’s no longer frightening to be found out—it’s comforting to let Someone else know me. When suddenly in my fifth decade I realize to my surprise that I hardly know myself—that I can’t make sense of the riffraff and noise in my head. When I can’t seem to see where duty ends and me begins—I find great joy and relief that God, who created me and formed me up—that He knows me. He understands. He gets it. All of it. Me. The hormones waxing and waning, the intentions, the dreads, the longings, the griefs, the perpetual insecurities (surely I should have outgrown those!?), the foibles, the faults. He knows me. All of me. He knows my story. Where I’ve been. Where I wish I was. Where I feel most at home.

And even more mysterious and maddening—He loves me.

Once when I was stopped at US Immigration and denied entry I tried to explain, “Can I just tell my story?” If the border guard could just hear how complex my comings and goings had been, I reasoned, surely then he’d have pity on me and allow me to enter. Imagine my pain when he gruffly replied, “I don’t care about your story!”

The God of Psalm 139 knew me. In fact He knew my whole story and He loves me.

And I realize something about Debby’s challenge—it wasn’t so much to us as it was to herself. And it wasn’t really about memorizing Psalm 139. It was about knowing the God of Psalm 139 and the sweet, sweet reality and relief of being truly and finally known by Him.

Debby, I finally get it. And even more amazing, He gets me!