A CHRISTMAS PRAYER

I am standing in a stable.  They tell me the Son of God was born here tonight.  I stare.  I am shocked.  The baby!  The baby is so small!  This is God?!?

Mary invites me closer.  "Would you like to hold him?" she asks.  I nod.

As I cradle him in my arms, I am mesmerized.  All the hope of the world, all the good, all the peace that exists, all these and more were contained in his tiny features.  And I, I am holding him.

His eyes are closed.  He turns his head, shifting in his sleep.  So delicate, so beautiful, so unassuming. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I begin to softly hum.
          A refuge for the poor, a shelter from the storm,
             This is our God.
          He will wipe away your tears, return your wasted years,
              This is our God.
         Oh call on his name, he is mighty to save
              This is our God.

He hears me.  The child stirs and opens his eyes.  And the world is suddenly awash with Love.

This is our God!

EXTRAVAGANT

Work pressure has been slowly building up lately and I've been fighting to see myself as valuable apart from my work.  One such morning, I sat there desperate before the Lord.  I prayed that He would help me see myself as He saw me.


I was surprised when the text that came to mind was Matthew 13:44, "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field."  What did that have to do with my question? I wondered.


Then it made sense.  I had always taken the verse to mean that we are to be like the man who sells it all for the joy of finding the gospel.  I suddenly realized that the man in the story is more like God and that we are the treasure that He finds and gives up everything to acquire!  The parable was about God and His heart towards us!  We are the field that He sees the value hidden in and He did give everything He had in order to buy us.


It makes me think about my response as one who claims to follow Him.  Do I look at each person I encounter and see their hidden treasure?  Would I pull out all the stops to let these people know how valuable they are?


I am God's treasure. So are you.  How amazing is that?!

"Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

~ Luke 12:7 ~ 

THE FINE LINE

This past Wednesday, I went to an aesthetics school for a girls' "spa day" in celebration of my friend's birthday.  Since one of the gals was getting a haircut, I thought to myself why not?  I know how to do my own nails but I can't cut my own hair...  plus, I'm way overdue for a trim.  The last time I had it cut was way back in February!

Big mistake.

Well, for me it was anyway.  My friend got a hairdresser who was just about to graduate from the program and so her cut turned out spectacular.  Mine, not so much.

I was the lucky recipient of a THREE HOUR LONG haircut from a very sweet and gentle middle-aged man who was aspiring to be a barber.  He had never cut women's hair.  Ever.  It was only his second month into his training.

From the get-go, I knew I was in trouble.  The chair for my wash was too low so I was slowly feeling my head go numb from the pressure of my neck being pulled upwards while my body dangled, trying to reach the seat.  The water temperature went between hot and cold.  And then, as the instructor came over to get him started on the haircutting itself, he actually said "I've never done this before."  The torture was only beginning.

Snip. Snip. Snip.  Half an hour.  One hour.  One and a half hours.  Two hours.

At the two and a half hour mark, a second instructor came over and checked his work.  "Is this the length you want?" the instructor asks.

In my head, I'm thinking "No, I'd actually like it to be a couple inches shorter."  But then I thought, if I actually said that, I'd be stuck here F O R E V E R.  So I politely said it was fine.

By the end, my poor barber was quite exhausted.  He had concentrated very hard and, for a first woman's cut, he had done fairly well.  At least it was even. The instructor had mercy on him and got another girl to do the blowdrying.  Only the girl he got had never worked on customer before.  She was one month into her program and had solely be practicing on the mannequins in the back room. 

Sigh.  I figured, if I'm a guinea pig for one student, I might as well be for another.

Finally, 3 hours later, I walked out of the salon.  I didn't care how I looked.  I was just glad to be out of there.  The next day, after I'd washed and dried my hair, I realized the gravity of my decision.

I
had
a
mullet.

Looking back, I can laugh about the experience.  It still mortifies me when I see my hair au naturel, without clips of some sort, holding some of it up.  But I'm hoping that in time, as my hair grows, it'll look better.  I consider it my three hours (plus $10!) of community service for the week. 

When I told my parents about what happened, my dad said I was courageous. I'm not so sure.

Sometimes, the line between courage and stupidity is very very thin.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.

~ 1 Peter 3:3-4 ~

REASON TO CARE

Living on the West Coast, I am constantly surrounded by "Green" messaging.  Bring your own reusable cloth bag to the grocery store and get bonus points.  Bring your own tumbler to Starbucks and get 10 cents off.  Buy local.  Buy organic.  Use less paper.

Last Sunday, our sermon was about what our attitude should be toward creation.  Interestingly, the early church saw people in relation to themselves, each other, God and the rest of creation.  In our small group, we had a lively discussion about this.  On one hand, how does my recycling one tin can make a difference in the world?  And if I'm not the CEO of a large corporation, what say do I have in who can clearcut the Amazon forests?  It seems like one individual can do little to help with this global crisis.

I can appreciate this perspective, but my own stance is this:  If I respect God, I will respect His creation.  My recycling one tin can has more to do with my relationship with the Creator than it does with the effectiveness of the act.  In being careful about my choices and thinking through how I'm impacting the earth, I am honouring the fact that God has entrusted me with this place I live in.  I may not hold an influential position to stop the destruction of rainforests, but I do live in a country that provides facilities and opportunities to be kinder to this planet.  So I will do my best, though I'm far from perfect.  Because at the end of the day, when I stand before the Lord, I know I am accountable to Him and Him alone. 

The earth is not my god (as it seems to be to some people out here...), God is.  But it so happens that God made this earth and called it "good."  So I think I would do well to treat it as such.

"In the beginning, God created... the earth."

~ Genesis 1:1 ~

HOUSE CLEANING AND GOD

Mondays are my clean the house days.  On top of dusting, I do the floors, the bathroom and the laundry.  I find great satisfaction at the end of it all: to look around and see that all is clean.  I especially love it when the sun is out and light fills the house, confirming that dust and dirt are thoroughly gone. It tires me out, but I really am very satisfied.

I suspect that God has the same sense of satisfaction when He cleans us up.  I imagine that when He looks at us and sees that the dirt of sin or false understanding have been removed, that our original colours and beauty are able to shine without obstruction or contamination, it brings His heart much joy.  And satisfaction.

"Create in me a clean heart, O God."

~ Psalm 51:10 ~

BEAUTY FROM THE PAIN

A most curious incident happened at dinner last night.  Tim's parents are in town and they wanted Greek food, so we tried out a place nearby.  The ambience was quite nice and we decided to go for some lamb and some seafood.  We were pretty much enjoying our dinner and joking about who would take the last oyster when Tim decided he would just take a tiny piece of it to try.  No sooner had he popped it into his mouth when "pft!" he spit out a small white chunk of... pearl!  The waitress would not believe that we found a pearl in the oyster.  Apparently, it had never happened before.

Aside from being amusing, I found the appearance of this pearl as strangely timely.  You see, this past Saturday, as I was praying for a friend, I saw a picture of a pearl and the words, "The discomfort will result in beauty" along with it.  It was a message for my friend, but I also think it was a message for me and for Tim.  We are in a place where things are not comfortable and we'd rather squirm out of it.  But I believe that God wants us to persevere.  To allow Him to shape the pain into something beautiful, precious and lasting.

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
       because the LORD has anointed me...

to provide for those who grieve in Zion—
       to bestow on them a crown of beauty
       instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness
       instead of mourning,
       and a garment of praise
       instead of a spirit of despair. 

~ Isaiah 61: 1 & 3 ~

TIME, DEATH, LIFE AND LOVE

I have had the pleasure of being introduced to a very fine writer, in my opinion. I haven't met him in person, but I have enjoyed the characters and insights in his novels. His name? Wendell Berry. I came across the quote below in his novel Andy Catlett. Andy is an old man, writing about his adventures as a 9-year-old boy. Ponder, and enjoy.

"Time is told by death, who doubts it? But time is always halved - for all we know, it is halved - be the eye blink, the synapse, the immeasurable moment of the present. Time is only the past and maybe the future; the present moment, dividing and connecting them, is eternal. The time of the past is there, somewhat, but only somewhat, to be remembered and examined. We believe that the future is there too, for it keeps arriving, though we know nothing about it. But try to stop the present for your patient scrutiny, or to measure its length with your most advanced chronometer. It exists, so far as I can tell, only as a leak in time, through which, if we were quiet enough, eternity falls upon us and makes its claim. And here I am, an old man, traveling as a child among the dead.

"We measure time by its deaths, yes, and by its births. For time is told also by life. As some depart, others come. The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome. I, who once had grandparents and parents, now have children and grandchildren. Like the flowing river that is yet always present, time that is always going is always coming. And time that is told by death and birth is held and redeemed by love, which is always present. Time, then, is told by love's losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost. It is folded and enfolded and unfolded forever and ever, the love by which the dead are alive and the unborn welcomed into the womb. The great question for the old and the dying, I think, is not if they have loved and been loved enough, but if they have been grateful enough for the loved received and given, however much."

- Andy Catlett, in Andy Catlett by Wendell Berry

A PRAYER FOR THOSE I LOVE

"God, cajole and nudge them, draw,
delight, and dream them close,
drift them along love's eddy, dare them,
inch them to yourself and with each inch,
yield them a yard of joy. Touch them;
with tears teach them.
Tangle their thoughts in yours"
- adapted from Luci Shaw, God in the Dark

13 WEDDINGS & 9 FUNERALS

I don't know what it is this summer, but it's been full of weddings and funerals. The wedding part was expected. The funerals, not so much.

Over the last couple months, nine (9!) loved ones of people I know have died. They have either been spouses, parents or children of my friends, coworkers or people at church. And quite a few of them battled cancer in their last days. It's gotten to the point where I'll hear the news and I'll think "Oh no, not another one..." And although it's no laughing matter, a small part inside of me wants to laugh for the sheer absurdity of so many deaths in frequent succession.

It makes me feel helpless. It feels like every other night, Tim and I are praying for someone else who's losing or lost someone dear. It makes me wonder when death will come to our doorstep.

And yet, I am discovering that God is stronger than death. As I allow myself to fall deep into His embrace, I find I am no longer afraid of what life might throw at me. I look at nature and see that even among the forests, there are dead branches mixed in with the live ones. And somehow, life always wins. Suffering is part of being human on this side of eternity. But I have hope in a God who is able and who will redeem it all.

"Death has been swallowed up in victory."

~ 1 Corinthians 15:54 ~

SACRED SPACES

I am working out a theory: To enter into the deepest place of pain in others is to enter one of the most sacred spaces possible.

When someone trusts you so much as to allow you to look into the open wounds of their heart, it draws out of you a response of quietness, respect and gentleness. You recognize the need to tread softly, to be unhurried and to accept the mystery. And suddenly, you are aware that God is there.

Surely [God] took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.
~ Isaiah 53:4 ~

HEALING THE WORLD

Even though I'm an 80's kid, I've never been a follower of Michael Jackson or his music. But something prompted me to log in to CNN to watch the public memorial service this morning. I caught the tail end of the extravaganza. What moved me most was that I was watching the impact that one artist had on the lives of millions of people.

I was affirmed in my belief that the arts has a powerful role to play in connecting to people's souls. The arts, be it music, dance, film, theatre or visual art, carry within them the potential to bring healing to the deepest parts of a person. Watching Usher sing "Gone Too Soon" was an example of how a song could communicate so much more deeply what was being felt.

Art gives the soul a voice and the vocabulary to express itself. In our busy, noisy lives today, the soul's voice is often lost, forgotten or even unwelcome. The arts provide a safe place for the soul to emerge.

I don't know what the Lord has in mind for me, but I know He made me an artist for a reason. My hope is that I would be able to honour Him with what I've got.

"I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;
I remembered my songs in the night.
My heart mused and my spirit inquired..."
~Psalm 77:5-6~

WHAT DO I OFFER HIM?

Last Sunday, Tim and I went to our church's evening service, which is a little more "off the beaten track" than the morning ones. As the offering baskets were going around, Tim and I couldn't help but smile when the basket that passed our hands contained the usual envelopes and one big shiny granny smith apple. What a concept! To offer God not only our money, but our other goods as well, right there in church.

"And everyone who was willing and whose heart moved him came and brought an offering to the LORD for the work on the Tent of Meeting."

~Exodus 35:21~

A NONDESCRIPT YET SIGNIFICANT DAY

Today marks the one year anniversary of my move to Vancouver. Coming to a point of calling this "home" has been a slow one. But I think that out of all the places in the world that I have been, I'm happy that God brought me here to sink my roots. I still can't get over the fact that beautiful beaches, amazing mountains and the USA are all about a half hour drive away. And our apartment is now such a place of rest - and a mini art gallery to boot! The community God has surrounded me with here has been both a delight and a suprise. I've had to remind myself to be open to new friendships - God can work through new friends as much as He has worked through old friends in the past!

This morning, I imagined God as a gardener, carefully tending to His plants, picking off the brown parts, making sure the soil is moist enough and always, always, being ever-attentive to their growth. As I think about this past year and the incredible amount of progress I've had, I can see His smiling face, eyes twinkling, pleased with what He's done.

"...my Father is the gardener."

~ John 15:1b ~

AFRICAN CHICKEN

A friend I met recently told me this story about her time in Africa. I think it's an excellent illustration for what our attitude toward the Scriptures could aspire to. I know I'm not quite there yet but I'm discovering the value of sitting in a section of the Word and letting it soak. Ruminating, if you will.

Anyway, here's the story. Hope you enjoy it!

AFRICAN CHICKEN

During her time in Africa, Kim had a quest of sorts: to find tender chicken. Each time her helper would go to the market, she would come home with a chicken as requested. Kim would stick it in the pressure cooker, hoping that this time the meat would be softer. But to her dismay, conversation around the dinner table would trickle into silence as each person ended up concentrating on chewing, trying desperately to break down the meat enough to swallow.

After this happened several times, Kim asked her helper to please choose a young chicken the next time she went to the market. So the helper went as asked and brought back a younger animal. And Kim, not wanting to take any chances, made sure to pressure cooker the chicken extra long. So long, in fact, that the meat fell off the bones... in strings! Strings of meat that could have been played on a violin.

Perplexed, Kim spoke to her helper, trying to understand what was happening. As they talked, she realized "poulet," which she thought meant "chicken," actually meant something more like poultry in general. And in that part of the world, meat was so precious that if you were going to have it, it better last you a good long time in your mouth! A good piece of chicken should give you plenty of chew time so you could fully savour the flavour. A good piece of chicken, as it turned out, was a good piece of rooster!

Taste and see that the LORD is good!
~Psalm 34:8~

SOMETIMES I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE TO GROW

In general, I am glad when God points something out to me and reveals an area where I need to change. But sometimes, it feels like there are too many corrections in too short a span of time. It's moments like these when I wonder if I'm really accepted and I struggle to see His love.

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
~ Hebrews 12:11 ~

EXPECTATIONS: TOO HIGH OR TOO LOW?

Mealtimes in our home often fill both our stomachs and our souls. Tim and I love having meaningful conversation over food. Last night was no exception.

As we talked, I got to thinking about how I often expect myself to get every little detail perfect or not to mess up anything small. I wondered out loud why I had such high expectations of myself.

After a brief pause, Tim said, "Too high? Or too low?"

I was puzzled. Too low?

He went on to explain himself. If I was aiming to get every little thing right, my expectations would be too high. But if I was aiming to achieve greater things, the small errors wouldn't mean as much. Concerning myself about the nitty-gritty when there were bigger things to focus on would be expecting too little.

How often I need to renew my vision!

But you are a shield around me, O LORD; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head.

~ Psalm 3:3 ~

WHEN GOD DISAPPOINTS

Last week at church, Darrel Johnson gave a message on Palm Sunday. He unpacked the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem on the donkey, explaining that Jesus' actions were completely different from the people's expectations of the Messiah. They were hoping for a political saviour but He saw their deeper need of a saviour from sin and death. One of the conclusions that impacted me the most was this: God would rather disappoint us in order to meet our deepest needs than meet our surface expectations.

As I think about my life and the times I have been disappointed by God's actions/inaction, it encourages me to think that His love and concern for me goes deeper than simply trying to keep me happy. In the moments when it seems He isn't there, He's probably at work in a place I'm not even aware of.

Yet Jerusalem says, “The Lord has deserted us;
the Lord has forgotten us.”
“Never! Can a mother forget her nursing child?
Can she feel no love for the child she has borne?
But even if that were possible,
I would not forget you!
~ Isaiah 49:14-15 [NLT] ~

MY EVOLVING THOUGHTS ON SEX

I've had this post incubating for a while now and I have finally written down what's been on my mind. Those who know me might be surprised that I'm writing about the topic of sex. But I think (and hope) what I have to share here might be of help to someone out there. It's so commonly addressed in the media, but so rarely among friends - at least among the people I know.

Anyway, growing up in a conservative Chinese Christian culture, I was always taught that sex is reserved for a man and a woman inside of marriage. I agreed with that principle (and I still do), so I naively assumed that I wouldn't have to think about it until I was married, or at least when I was ready for marriage. Sure it was an intriguing topic, but I put it on a shelf in my brain somewhere in a dusty corner.

As I grew through my teenage years and university, I not only tried to stay away from sex, I found myself distancing myself from guys. And from what I saw on TV and in movies, and especially after reading books like "Every Man's Battle," my perception of men was that they were sexual animals who could pounce at any moment. I've since learned that they are not, but back then I was afraid of them. And afraid of my own sexuality.

When Tim and I started dating, I was challenged to re-evaluate my assumptions. Could I trust this man to continue honouring me even when I was attractive to him? Was it possible to have a healthy acceptance of our sexuality without jumping into bed? To my surprise, the answer to both of those questions was Yes. In a particularly enlightening conversation, Tim told me that when I looked nice for him, it helped him to fight lust - because it reminded him that I was worth waiting for. And I learned that my sexuality was just as much a part of my whole person when I was unmarried, and that acceptance of it did not mean that I had to engage in sexual behaviour.

I had to unlearn false perceptions about sex and learn about God's view of sex. I also had to learn to trust Tim and his leadership of our physical interactions. In the days leading up to our wedding when hormones were raging and impatience was a common companion, I realized that in order for two people to have sex, it doesn't "just happen." Contrary to so many stories that I had read, each person must decide to go forward with it. (I am not talking about cases of rape, where one is willfully forced upon.) In a sense, I was shocked to discover that I had more control over myself than what I'd been told. When God tells us His Spirit is one of self-control, He means it!

Now that I'm five whopping months into marriage (and counting!), I have come to a point where I accept and even celebrate that my humanity includes my sexuality. I'm still continuing to figure out what healthy sexuality looks like, but I must say that it's been quite a journey toward wholeness for me.

[God] created [people] male and female and blessed them.
~ Genesis 5:2 ~

PS. If you want to discuss this topic with someone but don't know who to ask, feel free to email me. I won't be embarrassed. ;)

MOTIVATION FOR REPENTANCE

I find it interesting that scripture tells us that it's God's kindness that leads us to repentance. Scripture doesn't say that God's justice leads us to repentance. It makes me wonder whether the phrase, "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near!" means not so much "Repent, for your judgement is near" as "Repent, for your LOVE is near"? Perhaps the motivation for repentance comes not from a fear of punishment but rather, repentance happens because it pains us to hurt Someone who loves us so much? It would seem that the latter motivation would be more in line with the character of God.

Just yesterday, God gently told me that He misses having conversations with me - and if I was honest with myself, I missed having conversations with Him. I had gone from the extreme of almost legalistic duty of spending time daily in the quietness of His presence to the other extreme of "freedom" and just doing whatever I felt like. God's love was beckoning me to come back to a place of discipline and consistency. I repented not because I feared judgement, but because I no longer wanted to hurt the One who loves me most.

It makes me think about how we approach people who are living in sin. As the people of God, are we trying to lead people to repentance through kindness? What are people hearing when they hear that the Kingdom of God is near? Do they hear Judgement is near? Or Love is near?

God's kindness leads you toward repentance.

~ Romans 2:4b ~

DISCOVERY OF VALUE

Once in a while, when I flip back and re-read past journal entries, I come across some gems. Tonight was one of those moments and I couldn't help but post this excerpt. Enjoy.

I used to think that sin wrecked us. But now I see that even sin, though ugly and horrible, did and does not have the power to destroy the inherent noble qualities of God in us. So it is appropriate to pray that HE increase and I decrease in the sense that my sin has less and less of a hold on my life. But the role of the Holy Spirit does not manifest Christ in our lives at the expense of our uniqueness as children of the King. Instead, the way He becomes greater is to enable us to fully live out His vision for us.

I used to think that Christ is the only valuable part of me. But if I was not valuable without Christ, He would not have died for me. Now that I have Christ, I am not more valuable, but I can truly live out my value and no longer be concerned about proving it.

But God demonstrates His own love for us in this:
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
~ Romans 5:8 ~

CAN YOU IMAGINE?

Just for fun, I'm taking a six-class course in introductory belly dancing. This past Thursday, as I stood there with about a dozen other women, I was suddenly aware of the presence in Christ with me in that room. And the thought came to my head, "Jesus is here belly dancing with me!" It made me chuckle.