Good Friday Reflection

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What does the cross mean to me?

I’m the daughter of two successful type “A’s”. 

To say that I despise failure would be putting it mildly.

So after digging myself into a pit of sin and knowing full well how desperately I needed forgiveness and a Savior I gave my life to Christ.  I made this cross personal.  It was my sin on His shoulders.

And I found for quite some time afterwards- I would hold the communion cup-full of the symbol of His blood and say, “I’m sorry. “  I AM SO SORRY IT CAME TO THIS. 

The betrayal.

The whipping.

The thorns.

The blood.

The shame.  

I AM SO SORRY.

 And then one day the Lord spoke into the quiet of my heart.

                        “Lee, your sin didn’t sneak up on me.  I knew you, Child."

                        "The cross wasn’t plan B because you failed me.  I knew.”

And isn’t that what Revelation says-
                        that the Lamb was slain before the creation of the world.
His death was Plan A.

And it's easy for me to hold that at arms length and not really allow that to penetrate the depths of me until this-

For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.

In love  he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.

 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us. - Ephesians 1:4-8
 

He lavished love, in advance, on me.

I can stop surveying the depth of my failure in the blood of the cross and instead find wild, unmerited, unabashed love.

Love that warrants my everything.

Somewhere along the way, the Lord whispered this on my heart.
                                  
                                    "Lee stop saying 'I'm so sorry.'"

                                    "Say, thank you now, child."

Thank you.  Thank you, Jesus.

No small service

I've never really been able to stomach needles.

Perhaps the aversion developed after my abdominal surgery when I was four.  I distinctly remember having band-aids on every one of my fingers and begging them to leave. me. alone. Maybe it was the 14 years following of blood draws, ultrasounds, and prodding that was required, or maybe that nasty Hepatitis vaccine when I was 6.  Whatever it was, by the time I hit 5th grade, the "Know your blood type" unit pushed me over the edge.  One stick of Mrs. Steinbauer's finger and that drop of blood falling onto the overhead transparency and I passed out cold.  I woke up just in time to vomit on her shoes.

I'm A positive. By the way.

Fast forward to college.  I was an active member of Moody's Student Council and one of our fall activities was a student body Blood Drive with the Red Cross.  Like most responsibilities, I took the job of recruiting donors rather seriously.  I was amazed at how few people were willing to donate blood.  I'd always been told I could sell ice to Eskimos and there I was with miserably few slots on my form signed.  Truth be told, I was selling something I didn't really want to do either. The time came when I sat in that chair, filled out the forms and heard that dreaded cap pop off the needle.  I tend to dig the fingernails on my right hand into my palm and focus on that hand while evidence of my life drips. 

The door closed on my ability to donate blood not that long ago.  Following my diagnosis with Graves Disease (don't let the name throw you- it is just a thyroid condition), my doctor told me that I should no longer donate blood.  It's almost comical actually.  Now, I have blood drawn all the time, don't flinch a bit when they stick me and I'm no longer permitted.

Truthfully, the memory of my first blood donation had been long buried when the dust blew off a couple days ago while  I was visiting my precious friend, Ryan, at the Cancer Treatment Center in Chicago.  I watched blood flow from a bag into a port in his chest and praised God that someone had given that blood.  It enabled Ryan to spend one more day glorifying God with every breath he takes.  Ten years ago I watched blood drip into Mandy and prayed that God would strengthen her very weak body after a major surgery. Not only did he spare my forever friend, but He has given her an amazing testimony of His faithfulness. And the Spirit pressed into my heart again.

IT MATTERS.

We will never know the name of the person who shared their blood with my friends.  Never.  But it was life to them both. 

The same is true of many other seemingly small acts of service.  The shoebox packed at Christmas time that drew a child on the other side of the world into a service where he heard the name of Christ.

The man.  My father in law.  Who folds the bulletins for church every week.

The lady who rocked the baby in the nursery while the tired Mama's soul was refreshed.

The $5 bill out the window to the woman on the corner.  The bag of groceries left on the doorstep. 

IT MATTERS. IT MATTERS. IT MATTERS.

You see, Scripture tells us that whatever we do in word or in deed to do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus. (Colossians 3:17).  And we can KNOW that it matters.  It will never be faceless to Him. He will take those "small" acts of service and make them into a useful, beautiful, honorable act of worship unto the Lord.

Thank you.  Whoever gave that blood, wherever you are.......it was no small service.  Jesus looks beautiful shining through my friends because of you.

The one where I tell you I didn't go.

The last four days have been such a surreal blur.

From the first few coughs, to fever and headache.  Wednesday I went into the doctor and did the nose test.  I had Influenza A, and as long as my fever went away I wasn't coughing, took my Tamiflu, it should have been alright to go.  I just needed to be very careful because I would be contagious.

 

Thursday, I woke up to fever, chills, coughing and a complete realization that not only was I not feeling better (ten times worse), I didn't think I could do a 2am trip to the airport the next morning to fly to Haiti, to be warmly embraced by people whom I wanted to serve.  ONLY instead I had just infected with something they might not be physically able to fight off, lacking the medical resources necessary to fight.  I couldn't imagine my teammates suffering fevers, chills, aches and coughing in Haiti.  And then a brave voice called me from far away telling me how concerned she was that I would go and do a great deal of harm to myself and to others if I went.  A phone call I don't think until today that I could have EVER made. 

 

I bowed my head prayed that the Lord would bring me wisdom and would give me a word that I knew was from Him.  Opened my Bible. And I received two.

 

Let love and faithfulness never leave you.....then
you will win favor and a good name
in the sight of God and man.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.
                        Proverbs 3:3-6

My son, preserve sound judgment and discernment,
do not let them out of your sight;
they will be life to you
an ornament to grace your neck.
Then you will go on your way in safety,
and your foot will not stumble;
when you lie down, you will not be afraid;
when you lie down your sleep will be sweet.
Proverbs 3:21-24
 

To say that I am sad would be putting it mildly.  That I've cried a time or twenty. An understatement.

This trip never really was all about me and what I would do it.  It is about the glory of the God I serve.  He will do His work in Haiti through my friends and I will sit at home very much still a part of my team.  Heart torn in two places, praying as if I were in both.  I've rehearsed the schedule dozens of times for this.  For this sacred work of prayer.  May I still be faithful.

Thank you for praying beside me.

 Lee

Traveling Mercies

The time has arrived, praying friends.  I leave on Friday with our team for all that God has in store.  Haiti or bust, I say!  I'm including a rough schedule of our time and would ask that you pray daily if you feel so led. 

Would you pray that I would proclaim the Gospel and the message that the Lord has given me BOLDLY as I should?  AND for an OUTPOURING of the Spirit upon us all.  Do your work, precious Lord.

Pray for smooth transitions and a good relationship with the translators who will be helping us share this truth!

Pray for eyes to see and ears to hear.  I have much to learn in Haiti.

Protection.  Our schedule to be His.  Team relationships and dynamics.  My kids and husband at home.  Logistics.  Back road safety.  Divine appointments. Now that I've begun I hardly know where to stop. 

Haiti Trip Schedule

Friday (Jan 4)- Kiss our loved ones, hop on a plane and arrive in Haiti

Saturday- Settle and visit some well- known ministry centers and in the afternoon we will host the pastors and deacon wives at the mission for dinner.  Please pray that this will be a time of encouragement and refreshment for them.

Sunday- Church Services

Monday- Teaching Conferences- I will be doing 4 Bible Teachings while the rest our group is busy with more bible classes, medical clinics, sewing classes, and life skills workshops. Lunch feeding for the women attendees. (I believe this will be outside PAP)

Tuesday- Feeding in a rural school and there will be a small Bible teaching for them.

Wednesday-  Teaching Conference and lunch(4 sessions)- same lesson and workshops as Monday, but this time in PAP.

Thursday- Medical clinic and food distribution in a rural location.

Friday- Third Teaching Conference and lunch (4 sessions)

Saturday- Medical clinic and sharing the gospel open air style! J

Sunday- I just typed dunday by accident- I’m not sure if that was a goof or not.  CHURCH SERVICES

Monday- Leave PAP in the afternoon and arrive State side.  We will be overnighting in New Jersey.

Tuesday- HOME SWEET HOME!  GR-10:30am.

You are a vital part of our team!  I hope to write updates at night if possible.  Love to you all.

Lee

The Power of A Whisper

I think it must have been in the final chapter of one of those parenting books I read when Brendan was little.  You know back in the day when I had one kid and was obsessed about every little detail of his life.  I'd read "Bringing up Boys" by the time he was three months and while the prospect of having a boy who wanted to be a super hero and do wild things was thrilling.....I didn't really know who it was that was lying in my arms.  His desire to be anything but "Baby-wised" was not new to me and I could tell you about every fleck in his little brown eyes, but if he would be strong willed or all boy was an enigma.  Only time would tell. 

Actually, it is sheer relief that I front loaded on all the parenting books because I slide between the sheets without an ounce of desire to read them now that I'm in the throes of it all.  Heavens!  If there were cliff notes to two or three I'm sure they'd come in handy about now! 

But somewhere in one of those, I learned that if I really wanted my kids to listen.  The lean forward kind of listen.  I should whisper.  Because whispers are powerful and whispers mean that the tidbit being spoken is valuable.

Last year in the fall, in a time immediately following a season where I'd been doing a lot of teaching, the Lord whispered a word to my heart that stopped me cold.  I've had a few moments during my Christ following years that I could take you back to the exact spot in the room or on the road where He spoke a word in such a severe hush over my heart that it remains deeply etched.  And I know that they were indeed from the Lord because they are in harmony with the wisdom found in Scripture.  And they were personal and dealt with issues that only He knew I was wrestling through.

There I was standing in front of my dishwasher peeling fruit when the Lord whispered straight to my heart that, "I will not call you to teach something that you are unwilling to practice."  It was like the snap of a rubber band to my heart as I knew exactly to what He was referring.  I had been particularly dishonoring in my speech and attitude toward my husband and quick tempered with my children.  I was strategizing for moments alone rather than embracing the season God has given me with my tribe. 

Honestly, I reeled at the rebuke.  "Oh', Lord.  I will obey you. Please forgive me."

That whisper, the moment the Lord leaned in, has come to mind over and over again.  I've been more mindful than ever that His way is best and that short cutting obedience will not result in greater joy.  Greater joy comes as I embrace surrender not control, and service rather than demanding my own.

What is the Lord whispering to your heart? Are you leaning in to hear?

When we need a new beginning

                                                                    photo credit
New routines bring new trials.

My farmboy and I made the decision to homeschool our three oldest children this year. Many, many days I wake up and think, "What have I done?" and bookend it with an end of the day climb into bed thinking, "Well, that could have gone better" or sometimes even, "EPIC FAIL."  While there are certainly days peppered in where I know exactly why the Lord has led us this way, and am grateful for a day with my tribe snuggled in tight, many days leave me gasping for grace.  Not to mention confessing a short temper, a pitiful attitude, and a grumbling mouth.

I wake many mornings and thank God that His mercies are new every morning. Heaven knows how desperately I need a fresh start.  A new beginning.

Because there is fresh grace available for this day- ya know.  It isn't yesterday's grace and it isn't tomorrows either. 

It is THIS day's grace. 

A verse that has become quite precious to me in this season,

"God is able to make ALL grace abound to you, 

so that in ALL things,

at ALL times,

having ALL that you need,

you will abound in every good work." 

2 Corinthians 9:8

 

 

And I find that once again memorizing Scripture becomes my lifeline.  That hope is found in old, Holy Writ breathed fresh and new through the Spirit.  And the time at my sink (plentiful these days) becomes a place of growth and not monotony.

 

I confess that it is not just homeschooling that leaves me craving a new beginning, but also this place.  "New to this farm stuff" is being laid to rest, though it will certainly be in the archives- life is but archived isn't it?  I am no longer "new" to this farm life and I can't find inspiration in writing about the way my life fits awkward.  Country on this city girl.  I found just the title stuffy, and poorly reflective of the state of my heart.  My journey to His.

 

This place is a new beginning.   The Heart Set Free. 

 

A place to reflect the wonder found in a life following Him.  The journey of experiencing the boundless love of my God. My reckless love for my Savior.  The privilege of being a wife.  A mother.  A teacher.  A speaker.  But mostly a worshipper.

 

 





A Lilac post from the Farmboy

Hi!  Farm boy writting today.  The snow is on the ground here, but not much of it.  I have had about eight months to think about this post and am just getting around to writing it.

A couple of years ago we built a new barn.  Primary purpose???  Storage-- well actually, LITTER storage.  Does that sound cleaner than "manure" storage?

This allows us to keep nearly a year's worth of litter until we can spread it in the spring.  Which is really nice --- unless it IS spring.  Then there are many, Many, MANY Semi truck loads to haul and spread.

Around May 10th, we were in a hurry to finish cleaning out the barn.  I was on my third load of the day hauling to our farthest field away.  I was hot.  I reached for the air conditioning to turn it on.  A couple minutes later I realized the air coming out was hot!  Noooo!!!

I'm hot, sweatty, smell like the wrong end of  an animal, and can't get some nice cool air?  This is going to be a long day. 

Maybe it will cool off the cab a little if I leave it on.

NO.

The next time I pulled out of the farm I decided to use the more natural approach to cooling off.

ROLL DOWN THE WINDOW!

I had not gone 100 yards when the most amazing smell filled the cab.  The lilacs were in bloom!!!  One of God's most fragrant, sweet smelling plants.  A few minutes later I smelled another group of them.  What a beautiful relief from the foul smell I had been experiencing.

Within a couple of miles there was a man cutting grass with his mower.  In drifted the scent of fresh cut grass.  Then came another batch of lilacs.  How refreshing.

In those brief moments my day had been changed from slightly-annoyed and forgettable to one of my favorite days to think back on.

Many times I am the one whose attitude is poor.  My critical spirit leaves an odor much worse than turkey poop.

God, make me a pleasant person to be around.  I want to brighten peoples day like the fragrance of lilacs in the early part of May.  Help me leave smiles in my wake.

"For we are a fragance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among thoe who are perishing." 2 Cor. 2:15