Thankful for you

(Much of the correspondence that takes place among my church seems to end with the same affection: "Thankful for you." Hence, the title, apropos to this sincere story of appreciation for my church family.)

Today, I went up to my church to help wrap gifts for Affordable Christmas - an event that gives families in our community an opportunity to purchase Christmas gifts at extremely reduced prices. It's an amazing way to get to know the people who live in the area where the church is and I really enjoyed chatting with the families who came. And somehow wrapping gifts seems so much more fun when it's for someone else! :)

Before I went up to the church for my shift, though, I was battling anxiety and almost wanted to back out. I knew that the gift wrappers would be in the gallery, an area that tends to render almost everyone hard of hearing on Sunday mornings because it's not the most acoustically sound (ha, see what I did there?) place in the building. In other words, it be loud up in there! I only have one good hearing aid right now while I wait for new ear molds to arrive at my audiologist's office. I can't lipread and wrap presents at the same time. How was I going to engage with the shoppers and wrap their gifts at the same time, unable to filter out the dull roar of background noise?

But I was convicted that not going would be worse, so I made my way over and asked the gift wrap coordinator if she could pair me with another gift wrapper so that someone would have my back if communication became a problem. She happily teamed me up with another volunteer who graciously answered questions that I missed  hearing and helped carry on conversations with the shoppers. While all that was going on, we worked together to wrap gifts. I'm so thankful for those two ladies who were willing to help me be part of the team!

That led me to reflect on the other ways I'm able to serve my church family. I help our children's ministry most Sundays and there have been a few times where I wondered if I was the best person for the job. Trying to field questions from parents and volunteers, help volunteers troubleshoot the check-in process, interact with kids who haven't learned how to enunciate yet... all in the very same gallery that reaches fever pitch every week. Shouldn't someone with better hearing be doing this? Would I serve my church family better by stepping down and letting someone who is better equipped step up? Am I making Sunday mornings more complicated for other volunteers who have to do their own jobs in addition to helping me communicate?

But every time I've raised the question with other volunteers or staff, the answer has been a firm "NO." If anything, they ask me what else they can do to make sure that I am able to fulfill my duties every Sunday. They don't let my disability get in the way of my ability to serve! They don't just minister to me and make me the object of their compassion and kindness - though they do that as well! - they equip me to serve along with them. They embrace 1 Corinthians 12, especially verses 14-26:

For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body. 

The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.

Having the right heart and attitude toward someone who lives with a disability is so important for a church that is seeking to love the "weaker" members. Formal ministries and programs and schedules and plans and events can be good ways for a church to connect with those who have a disability, but all of those would fall short without the right heart. I'm grateful to be part of a church that faithfully preaches God's goodness in and sovereignty over the hard things like disability and takes the Bible seriously when it says that we are all one in Christ.

So church family, I am indeed thankful for you, and delighted to grow with you - for God's glory and our joy!

When knowing I'm yucky makes me happy

You. Guys. It is 10 degrees. For realz. And they're saying mean things during the weather segments, like "wind chill" and "below zero" and "frostbite." Rude.

Didja miss me, internets? (I know, I'm vain. It's part of my charm.) If I did my math right (and that's always kind of a question mark), this is my 100th post! Bow chicka bow wow!

Anywhozzle, I've been feeling a little scattered lately. My apartment is a mess because I'm never here to clean it up and when I am home, I just want to watch reruns of How I Met Your Mother. I've got work, cavities, people, shopping, parties, crafts, hearing aids and "who am I/why am I here/ohmygawsh I'm having an identity crisis" to think too much about. It's so fun.

But when I get like that, all distracted and frustrated and annoyed, I start thinking that I can handle things on my own and that I am, in fact, all of that and a bag of chips (I know, I am so hip with the slang, I can barely handle it).

But today at church, our pastor was, as always (and in a good way), hammering home the point that there is something wrong with all of us, we're more ruined and awful and messed up and broken than we can ever dare imagine, and that Jesus is our only hope and came to fill our greatest need - our need for a Savior to save us from ourselves.

And all I could think was, "How come knowing how broken I am is the only thing that makes me feel complete?"

So funny how that works. Knowing who I really am - a mess - is actually the thing that makes me the most settled. Because the more aware I am of myself, the more I recognize my need for a Savior. And knowing the depth and desperation of that need causes me to treasure Jesus even more and myself even less.

Which, let's face it, is hard to do. We're selfish people. We think the world is about us. We're here to further our own agendas, meet our deadlines, make the best decisions for our lives and basically, do what we have to do to feel good. And when God says to us, "That's not really the way to happiness," we don't really believe Him, because His idea of joy and contentment is so radically different from our own.

But it's better. Harder and messier and raw, but better.

One of my pastors tweeted not long ago: "My parenting of my (young kids) is currently focused on 2 themes: You're not in control and you are deeply loved."

Which I think is a pretty good thing for all of us to know. We're not in control. We are broken, messy and falling apart - and there's nothing we can do about it. We can't make ourselves right and we don't have it all together. But. We are deeply loved by a Savior from whom we have received grace upon grace. God, who does not merely offer a solution to our problem, but who Himself is the Solution to our problem, loves us lavishly.

Which makes me feel pretty small, and God pretty big, which is exactly as it should be.

Entitlement

Happy Post-Thanksgiving!

Here's a math problem for you. All I did was make one batch of mashed potatoes, yet when all was said and done, I had four giant bowls soaking in sudsy water to get all of the potato-ness off of them, approximately 9,000 utensils scattered in the sink and took out two bags of trash in the last six hours.

How does that happen? If Rachael Ray or Martha Stewart ever need a replacement... don't call me.

But the potatoes... oh. my. word. They almost didn't make it to my aunt's for Thanksgiving because I may or may not have kept sneaking tastes. They are full of bad things. Heavy cream. Buttttah. Cream cheese. Don't look at me like that. It was a holiday. Go with it.

Annnnnyway, Thanksgiving. I feel like I won't be a good American unless I list all the things I'm thankful for, just like everyone else is doing. But that seems so... so... routine. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for a lot of things. I understand the value of a grateful heart. But I'm wondering if I really know what thankfulness means.

I came across this Thanksgiving poem last week that just rubbed me the wrong way. It starts out like this:

Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings, thank
You, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.

Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long
as possible, thank You, Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

I think you can imagine why I found that a little offensive (!). The poem goes on to give thanks for things like family (because there are many who are lonely), food (because there are many who are hungry) and work (because there are many who don't have a job).

It's okay to be thankful for those things. But the motivation behind the gratitude in the poem is all wrong. Being thankful that you have something that someone else doesn't isn't really gratitude, but superiority.

The whole poem is really just one complaint after another. Paraphrased, it is basically saying something like:

"Poor me, I have to listen to my alarm shrill at me day after day, and I'm forced to leave my warm, cozy bed and work for The Man just so I can come home to crying children and a demanding spouse and burned toast in a modest house... but at least I'm not like those people! Even though I'm not really getting what I want, that's okay, because it could be so much worse."

Are we really that backwards that instead of truly being humbly thankful for what we do have, we're begrudgingly noting that at least someone else is worse off than we are? What we're really doing then is assuring ourselves that we're still awesome, that we've still got one up on everyone else. This isn't really a poem of Thanksgiving, but one of entitlement. It assumes that life should be free of restrictions and authority and cold and ruined food and illness and trials. That we are special and awesome enough to deserve a perfect life and have right to pitch a fit when it doesn't go our way.

I know this because I get behind the wheel of a car every day. I don't know what it is about driving that makes me act like a three year old, but it does. I mean, people are driving in my lane. What is up with that? I did not tell them they could be there. Why are they driving so slow? Don't they know that the speed limit thingy is just a suggestion? I have someplace to be and they are slowing me down and don't they know I will be late for work if they don't MOVE. IT.?! I act like I'm the only person on the highway who has schedule to keep. All of a sudden, everything becomes about me and my need to get somewhere and everyone who stands in my way is an enemy.

And the truth is that I live my life this way too. I don't know how to be thankful because I assume I'm entitled to live the way I want. It's hard to say "thank you" when you're distracted by the fact that your internet connection isn't fast enough or that the kitchen isn't big enough or the weekend isn't full enough. Then trying to fake an attitude of gratitude (cue cheesy sound effect) by mumbling, "Well, at least I'm not like that guy!" just doesn't cut it.

I think true thankfulness starts with humility, with recognizing who you really are (a sinner, not awesome and yucky), what you really deserve (wrath, hell and death) and what you got instead (grace, mercy and life). Only by breaking the illusion of entitlement will I really be thankful.

Which means I've got a long, loooooooong way to go.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience — among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved — and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:1-10

Contributing with disability - Part 5-ish

Whew. I made it. Part 5-ish. I don't know how some bloggers manage to do this every. single. day. Kudos to those who do! I've learned a lot from writing this little series and I'm so grateful for the discussion it's sparked. I hope we'll keep on discussing and talking and thinking and engaging. Community-ing, if you will.

Defining disability - Part 1
The kinship of disability - Part 2
A proper response to disability - Part 3
Learning from disability - Part 4

Anyway, so all week long I've been talking about what the church can and needs to do for those with disabilities. But as with most things in life, it's a two-way street, you know. Those of us who do live with disabilities cannot just stand around, waiting to be served. My friend Carin commented on one of my earlier posts and I thought she made a great point:

"Disabled" people also need to get involved and do things they are gifted and able to do. ... [W]e who are viewed as "disabled" have a responsibility to become involved and serve as well. And it need not be only in the area of our "disability" as you said. For example, as a deaf person, I am still able to serve my church family in many ways - not only the deaf - but my CHURCH FAMILY (all of them!). There are some things that I am not able to do well because of my hearing loss, but there are many other things I CAN do to serve. I need to do some of them and not just sit back with the attitude that "oh I am deaf..."

People with disabilities are often just as guilty of perpetuating division within the church by demanding this service or that accommodation, or by sequestering themselves with people who are like them. I know that sometimes I am tempted to think that because I have a disability that my suffering is more unbearable than someone else's, or that I am worthy of more attention because of it. But that is not true at all. Disabled or not, we are all sinners in need of a Savior and ought to serve one another in light of that truth. When I look at a brother or sister, I shouldn't see their able bodies and be jealous or angry; instead, I should see someone who needs Christ just as much as I do. The cross is an equalizer in that there is no room for superiority or inferiority in the Body - we are all disabled in soul before the Lord.

Something else that I'm tempted to do is to claim that I have nothing to contribute to the Body or that I'm worthless to serve because I can't hear everything. But when I do that, I buy into the lie that hearing loss defines me instead of embracing the truth that the gospel does. It's true that I can't hear everything and that there will just be some areas where I cannot serve. For example, you'll never see me help lead worship and I'd be reluctant to work at the information desk. I see so many people with disabilities just not contribute because they focus so much on what they can't do, or maybe they're missing all the things they used to be able to do and now suddenly can't. And at the heart of it is a pride issue; we want to do what we want to do and are angry that our efforts are hampered. Isn't God faithful, though? He doesn't let us slip through the cracks and He certainly doesn't put us out of commission just because our ears or legs or eyes stop working. To say that we have nothing to offer because of our disability is like saying that disability has more power than God, that the Almighty could somehow be crippled by our weakness. Puh-leez.

Having a disability does not excuse us from coming alongside of our brothers and sisters, to weep when they weep, to rejoice when they rejoice. My hearing loss does not let me off the hook to make meals when a family welcomes a new baby, help coordinate childcare, hand out worship guides, pitch in with cleanup, be kind to people, love them as Jesus does and offer a listening heart. It's true that I can't do everything, but I can trust that the Lord will equip me to do the things that He has called me to do - for my good and His glory. And so often, we expect that God has a special job just for us and that disability has somehow thwarted that plan, but that's presumptuous. God is, I think, less concerned with exactly what it is we are doing and far more concerned with how we are doing it. There are no loopholes in Micah 6:8 - abled or disabled, the decree is the same:

He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

Finally, those of us with disability need to remember that these are just temporary bodies. C.S. Lewis said, "You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body." Bodies with crooked spines and lifeless legs and silent eyes and damaged ears - they're just for now. Disability advocacy and raising awareness is a good thing, but it's not the most important thing. When we make disability the standard by which we live, we've missed the point. When we judge other people or churches based on whether or not they meet our needs, we're sinning. At the end of the day, the question is not, "Did the church serve my disability?" but, "Is Jesus my only hope?" Am I finding joy and fulfillment and completeness in the finished work of Christ and embracing the truth that His blood has already spoken for me, or am I basing who I am and what I think and how I act on how my body functions or doesn't function?

God is enough. And that's all I really wanted to say.

Learning from disability - part 4

Read Part 1
Read Part 2
Read Part 3

Okay, friends, we’re in the home stretch. Part 4. I was going for a part 5, but I’m not confident that I’ll make it. That’s why I kept adding the “-ish” at the end. Five-ish. Ishes are so helpful in creating loopholes, dontcha know?

What I’ve found in my own life, and from what I’ve learned from others’ stories, is that disability can be a blessing because when something is taken away – sight, hearing, legs, neurons, synapses – you are forced to come face to face with the truth that you are broken. Not just in body, but in soul. That there is something wrong and that you can’t fix it. The need for grace seems more evident when you live with brokenness. Disabilities and sickness and weakness and brokenness point us to God and remind us that He is sovereign and complete and that only He can fix us, body and soul.

A friend of mine, who lives with hearing loss brought on by Meneire’s Disease, put it well:

I like the idea of using the Paraclete Ministry [a disability ministry at her church] as a impetus to remind "normal" people that the Fall, our sin nature, the afflictions in our bodies are a part of all of us... not just the person in the wheelchair or carrying an oxygen tank or wearing hearing aids. Weakness is not a popular thing in our culture or our churches. We want to be strong. I think weakness is where God wants us to be so that we can rely on His strength. Healthy people working with sick people (could be temporary illness like chemo for cancer, or recovering from difficult childbirth, accident, or something chronic, long-term, or even terminal) are going to be reminded that this is what the Fall did, it made pain, sorrow and death come into the world. How thankful we all should be that the Redeemer saved us from our just punishment in hell!

Greg Lucas at Wrestling with an Angel shares his thoughts on how he sees his son experiencing God:

Locked away in the mystified mind of my mentally disabled son is a deep thinking joy that can only be explained as “the secret things of God.”
…
My son also gives the impression that he too shares a divine bond with his heavenly Father. One of the first words in sign language Jake learned as a young child was the sign for “Jesus” which is displayed by pointing to the center of each hand (where the nail prints will be found). Ask him where Jesus lives and Jake will point upward. Ask him where else Jesus lives and Jake will point to his heart. I don’t remember ever teaching my son these things. Could it be that for many years he has known of the One who sits at the Father’s right hand, and inhabits the hearts of men?

I have watched Jake sit through entire sermons and nod his head appropriately. I have watched him give emotional standing ovations at the end of a well preached message (even when he is the only one clapping in a room of 300 people). He also claps at the end of each prayer—it is a hearty, resounding AMEN!

There have been times after a sermon or moving hymn when Jake is in tears. I do not know what is going on in his mind during these times. I only know that there is so much more happening than the doctors and specialists have ever dreamed possible in the silent, diminished world of his “disabled mind”.
…
Is it possible that my son’s inability to see things as a “normal” person sees, or his incapability to understand what “ordinary” people understand, is actually an exceptional ability rather than a disability?

Or could it be that I am the disabled one here? That through my own personal pride and the superficial cares of this world I am calloused to the deeper things of God, deaf to His audible voice, and blind to His very real presence in my life.

And that’s why the church needs people with disabilities. It’s not just that we need to minister to the disabled and make them feel loved and welcomed, but we need to learn from them as well.

A proper response to disability - part 3

So because I consider myself to have a disability and strive to identify – at least emotionally – with other people who have disabilities, I’m naturally drawn to discussion on the topic, particularly in a church setting.

I know a lot of deaf and hard of hearing people who have a hard time with church. Even churches that provide an interpreter or other accommodations haven’t equipped the rest of the congregation to come alongside of those with the hearing loss. So the deaf and hard of hearing tend to just fellowship with each other. And this doesn’t just happen in church, really, but in daily living. And not just with people with disabilities. We all tend to clump together with people who are like us, regardless of how much we say that we are in favor of diversity and unity and yada yada yada.

So when it happens in church, on one hand, it’s natural and unsurprising. On the other hand, that’s not who God has called us to be in Christ. Scripture says that we are all one in Christ, and that we are part of one body. There shouldn’t be division in the church because we’re all the same before the Lord. I really long to see the church come alongside of people with disabilities, not just to minister to them in the sense of serving them and making life a little easier, but to enter into their world with the intention of learning from them as well. To welcome people with disabilities as wholly functioning parts of the Body, not treat them as a fringe ministry.

I'm so thankful for blogs like The Works of God and Wrestling with an Angel. Both of the men who write these are fathers who have children with a disability. I don’t know the particulars of each and a parent’s perspective is a bit different than the child’s, but I can identify with a lot of what they share and I appreciate their gospel-centered perspective on suffering.

A while ago, John Knight (The Works of God) wrote a post that helped clarify my own thoughts. I encourage you to read the whole thing, but I particularly liked his argument that God cares about disability, so if we are called to care about the things that God cares about, then we need to care about disability, too.

What this means, too, is that the responsibility for caring for those with disabilities in the church should not land only on those who live with it (the individuals themselves or the family members who care for him/her). We should all be concerned for one another, regardless of the state of our bodies, because we are all members of the same body, and we all belong to each other.

But I'll be honest. I'm not entirely sure what it looks like for a church to come alongside of people with disabilities. I think it starts with a solid theology of suffering, though, and an understanding that God is good even when difficult things happen in our lives or to our bodies. That's a hard truth to cling to, but I think the more a congregation understands this, the more willing they will be to do the coming alongside thing. And as with any kind of group, really, it starts at the top. Pastors, elders and other church leaders should be setting the example and even consider preaching about it.

What do you think? How can a church come alongside of those with disabilities? Should it? What are some things that might keep people from doing so?

Clearing the (mental) decks

Ugh. Writing is hard. Can I just say that? It's not just coming up with words, but organizing thoughts. Expressing feelings. Sorting through ideas. Let me tell you, that is a monumental task for dreamers like me. I think in metaphors and feel in pictures. Trying to capture all of that with mere words is like trying to catch a cloud and pin it down (name that movie reference!). But it is a good kind of hard. The stretching kind. The say what you mean kind. The makes you think for real this time kind.

But it is tiring. So here are some of the more frivilous thoughts I've entertained lately.

I am having a battle with a single strand of white hair that insists on protruding from my scalp. Now, I'm not afraid of going gray or white or whatever. A woman's glory is her hair, yeah? And I'll wear my white tresses like a crown. But not now. How can I, three years shy of 30, possibly have earned that white hair? I feel like I need to have a few decades of fruitful labor behind me before I'm allowed to join the club. Begone, white hair. Be. Gone. You may come back in 20 years. Or 50.

Where is fall? Well? Where is it? The weather is nice and all... for August. But it's October and I have bug bites. And I want to wear flip flops. Okay, bug bites, flip flops and October. Which of these things is not like the others? I'll give you a hint. It starts with "O" and ends in "ber." As in BBBRRRRR. I want my sweaters and thick socks and warm blankets and crisp apples and steaming mugs and general coziness to ensue. My one hope - knock on wood, cross my fingers and say a prayer - is that mild fall = mild winter. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. I like being chilly but I don't like freezing. Or driving in the snow. Or on ice. Though at the rate we're going, we'll just end up having a winter-long fall season. I could get on board with that.

I guess this one isn't terribly frivolous, but contemplative. I was looking through some old (well, by old, I mean three years ago) pictures on Facebook (isn't that weird to say? I bet our mothers never imagined a day when the word "Facebook" would replace "photo album.") and I was struck by how much things have changed in three years. So much. I go to a different church. I live somewhere else. I work somewhere else. I drive a different car. I have a new family member. I do different things with my spare time, when I have it. Back then, I had oodles and oodles of spare time and not in a good way. Three years seems like a long time. Five years seems like a lifetime ago. And I still maintain I'm not old, despite what my white hair is trying to tell me. But I'm feeling more keenly the passage of time and I know it only goes faster as I get older. That makes me a little nervous. And a little excited, because I have only the faintest glimmer of what's ahead. But it will be grand. So, so grand.

I have a question for you. Yeah, you. Not the person next to you or five cities away. You. Y'know how I tried doing that What Would You Ask thing? I'm wondering now, what would you say? Instead of me feeding you information about hearing loss, what do you want someone with hearing loss to know? Maybe you're a friend of someone who wears hearing aids or you are raising them or you have to talk a little louder to your grandma. Or maybe you've been living with hearing loss for a long time and have some wisdom to impart. I don't know anything everything. I have things to learn and I'm in the mood to listen. So spill it and I'll share it. You'll be famous. To all three of my readers, anyway.

I'm going to bed now. Because I am old. Let's just call it what it is.

Impromptu

Just a little housekeeping here. I've been thinking that maybe the What Would You Ask feature has been getting a little annoying. So I'm moving it to once a month-ish. Or when I remember to do it. If I remember. Whichever comes first. Kthanxbye.

Dear blog, I've missed you. To be more particular, I miss pounding out thoughts by tapping a series of keys on my computer. Writing, friends. I finally came to accept that it's one of my things. But just one of them. When I write, write, write, what that really means is that I am talking, talking, talking. I fill white spaces (both online and in my head) with words and sentences and misplaced modifiers. Oh yes. There is a lot of talk going on from me to "out there." It is good. I am, at last, finding my voice.

But I forget that listening, it's one of my things too. It was my thing before writing and talking and saying and sharing was. So I prayed for opportunities to listen. And when you pray, friends, God delivers. I listened to stories this week, about faraway lands and new love. Of broken dreams and sleepiness. Of plumbing the depths of God and never coming up empty. What sweet things to get to listen to. To share in and be a part of. Thank you for telling me your stories. Thank You, Lord, for the loveliness of listening.

And how are you?

Feel Good Friday: Five Things

Feel Good Friday is hosted by The Girl Next Door Grows Up. Check out her blog for more Feel Good Fridays!


Some lovely things lately:

1) Open captions are back at AMC! I have not seen a movie in an AMC theater for what feels like a few years now. That is most likely an exaggeration because I tend toward the dramatic, but I will say it's been at least a couple of years. Not counting that one showing of See What I'm Saying. I'm also happy that HLAA played a role in bring captions back - you can read more about it at HLAA-KC's blog or on my friend Shanna's blog. Shanna and Teri worked hard to make this happen - GO LADIES! ;-) AMC is currently showing Nanny McPhee Returns and I am all over it, friends. Yes, I know, it's a kids' movie but whatevs. I think it's important to support AMC and thank them for their efforts. Plus kids' movies can be so charming. They are good for encouraging creativity and imagination for both little ones and old. ;-)

2) I started reading a really good book this week. It takes an honest look at the Bible and the author uses beautiful language to really engage my wonder for the Lord. I think that is something that has been lost lately, at least in my head. I get so wrapped up in theological discourse that I forget to just step back and marvel at God. To be astonished by His artistry and grace. To find Him and all he does breathtaking. I highly recommend this book:



Not even joking. It's lovely. I started reading it to my friend's daughters the other night, then I kept reading it while she put them to bed. It's just such a sweet perspective to see things through a child's eyes. Love!

3) Last weekend, on the way to the conference, we drove by Story City, IA. There was a billboard on the side of the road beckoning us to ride their antique carousel. Oh, how I wish we could have stopped. If I lived in Story City, I would totally take up residence in a gingerbread house at the corner of Cherry St. and Gumdrop Lane. My trusty carousel horse would get me to work every day at Toyland, Inc., and I wouldn't talk anymore. Oh no, everything I would have to say would just have to be delivered by way of song and dance. Obviously. (And now I have a sudden hankering to watch Mary Poppins. Hellooooo, plan for the weekend!)

4) Okay, on to more grown-up things. I had lunch with my co-workers today. And we got Chipotle, so really, I am cheating here by listing two lovely things. And they might sound trivial, but it has been a while since we all (well, we were missing one, so okay, most) sat down and had lunch together. Isn't it funny how something as simple as discussing which plastic forks we prefer (the office's or Chipotle's?) or how we eat our food can just make you feel like you belong? I'm blessed, too, to work with people I can also call friends. Not many folks get to say that. And when you add Chipotle to the mix, it just makes everything sweeter. Srsly. If I was 12, I would totally be doodling "I <3 Chipotle" and "Chipotle + Lucy 4 EVER" in my Lisa Frank notebooks.

5) I love watching people take communion at church. The way it's set up is that there are two servers at each station, one with the bread and one with the grape juice. People line up to tear a piece of bread off and dip it in the cup. You just go up when you feel led. I usually wait til the end so I don't have to stand in line can pray and reflect on the Lord before partaking. One Sunday, George and Mary (totally not their real names) went up, tore the bread, dipped it in the cup and walked over to a corner to pray together before taking the bread. As they walked to the corner, George pulled his hat off and wrapped his arm around Mary before leading them in prayer. It was such a simple gesture and one that was being repeated throughout the sanctuary (and one I had witnessed many times before), but it just struck me that day how beautiful and symbolic of Christ it was. His protective covering over us, His speaking for us before the throne. They bowed their heads to pray and I knew they were standing before the Lord as children, broken and in need of grace, as we all are. I teared up because it was so right and so good. And so often, I tend to think of how marriage could be beneficial to me here on this earth, but watching George and Mary together, as one before God, opened my eyes to how beautiful marriage is because of who God is. What a picture it is of Christ and the Church. I don't know if the Lord has marriage in mind for me and if He didn't, that would be okay. There are joys to be had and lessons to be learned in being single that can't happen when you're married. But if He does have marriage in mind for me, I hope I will see it for what it is - a gift from God to be treasured, a daily reminder of His relationship to His people, a sweet evidence of His grace. George and Mary's communion scene took mere seconds to unfold, but oh, what a sweet, eternal moment.

Happy Friday, friends!

What Would You Ask: Lectures and Sermons

Last week, Suz asked:

"[H]ow do public speaking forums work best for you (aka. lectures, sermons, etc.)?"

Um, seriously, are you people stalking me? In the hiding-in-my-closet-and-spying-on-me-way, not the I'm-following-your-blog way. Yet another timely question, as I just got back from the Desiring God conference in Minneapolis this weekend, which provides the perfect backdrop for this particular query.

One of the things I really love about Desiring God is their no-holds-barred approach to ministry. They have a "whatever you can afford policy" on their resource items and have faithfully provided accommodations at their conferences. They're pretty good about supplying transcripts of online audio or video and they're faithful to translate their library into other languages so that all people might learn about God. This year's conference was no exception. They offered ASL (American Sign Language) interpreters in addition to Spanish and Russian translators. They don't let anything keep them from sharing the Gospel.

I was really thankful to have the interpreters because even though I was sitting in the front row and the speakers' faces were projected on a large screen behind them, it was still difficult to lip read. They moved around a lot or were just a little too far away to catch. And I tried, but there was just something about lip reading on the screen that was difficult. I'm not sure what it was... maybe I rely on body language to help facilitate communication more than I realize and the way the camera was positioned, we mostly only saw the speaker's face on the screen. So because my primary mode of communication - lip reading - was weakened, I was thankful to have the interpreters for help.

However, I was reminded once again how much English, and not ASL, is my first language. I felt like I could mostly keep up with the concept of each session, but the Wordie (oh there I go making up words again) in me really wanted to know exactly what each person was saying. For example, when Al Mohler was talking, he kept using the word "unregenerated" to refer to those who do not know Christ. But the interpreters would use the sign for "non-Christian." The concept is the same, but the nuances were not. "Unregenerated" brings to mind the powerful work of the Holy Spirit and illustrates the lifelessness of the soul apart from God. "Non-Christian," on the other hand, connotes someone who just doesn't go to church or ignores God. Yes, the two words are technically the same, but one brings more depth to the table than the other.

So don't get me wrong. I'm so thankful I even had the option of ASL interpretation because without it, I really would not have gotten anything out of the conference. I think in that environment, I would have benefited more from captioning and as God would have it, I had an opportunity to make the case for it.

On Sunday morning, I decided to head to the exhibit hall to see if I could talk to a Resurgence representative about getting their online videos subtitled. I was disappointed to find out that no one was manning that booth, so I just wandered around for a little bit and read my Bible for a few minutes. Then I decided it was about time to go and find my seat for the last session. As I got up, I saw Scott Anderson, the conference coordinator, walking across the hall. I had the fleeting thought that I should thank him for the interpreters, and I would have talked myself out of it if I had listened to my inner wimp. Instead, I found my feet propelling me in his direction and before I could stop myself, I heard my mouth greeting him and explaining who I was. I thanked him for being considerate of the needs of the deaf and hard of hearing attendees and how much I appreciated Desiring God's faithfulness to come alongside of those of us who just need a little extra help.

And then I did it. I asked him, "I was just wondering, would you be willing to consider offering captioning at future events?" I explained what captioning was and how it worked and what my experience with it has been like. You guys, he took his notebook out and started taking notes! He was so kind and listened intently to everything I explained and really seemed interested when I clarified that not all deaf/hard of hearing people benefit from the same accommodations. I also explained that it's not just deaf/hard of hearing people who benefit from captioning, but people who are learning English as a second language or even people who are visual learners. He said he'd been wanting to do something like that for a while but didn't quite know how to go about it. He gave me his card and asked me to email him to continue the discussion! I was so thankful for - and humbled by - his attention; even though he was a busy, busy man that weekend, he talked to me like he had all the time in the world. Isn't that just so like the Lord?

So yeah, I know that story doesn't have a lot to do with the original question but I thought it was too sweet not to share. :) So anyway, back to business. In that situation, captioning would have helped and I am considering bringing it up for church. Right now, I sit near the front row and lipread the best I can. I think that I generally get enough out of the sermon to be able to discuss it with other people, but I miss a lot of the jokes and I know I'm not getting every single thing the pastor says. He talks fast. He moves around the stage a lot. So I wonder if captioning might enhance the experience for me. I'm hesitant to use an interpreter because I don't like drawing attention to myself that way. And yes, I'm that vain. ;) Plus most interpreters will use ASL and we've already established that that's sometimes not the best solution.

Now, I did have sign language interpreters when I was in college and I will say that in some situations, I feel more comfortable with an interpreter than with captioning. My interpreters, knowing my penchant for English, modified the way they signed so that they were using ASL vocabulary but with English grammar. And a good interpreter works with their client(s) to deliver the information in a way that best fits the client's needs. I had good interpreters.

Anyway, if I'm part of a classroom or some kind of setting that requires listening to one speaker and then going over discussion questions with the people sitting near me (church people - think midsize group/Explore-type settings), an interpreter is a good fit (although, again, I'm too vain to ask for one. Thereisaidit). With captioning, the person typing can only hear whoever is speaking into a special microphone, so if several people are talking at once or taking turns talking, it's cumbersome to pass the mic around. An interpreter can (in my opinion) more easily relay that kind of information and also convey expression. My interpreters could tell me if the professor sounded mad or if another student was confused. I can't always tell tone, so it was helpful when the interpreter would explain the mood and not just the words to me.

I've also had friends take notes for me, which was really helpful. It's hard - not impossible, but hard - to take notes and watch an interpreter at the same time. ;) And I have put myself in classroom-type settings without any accommodations before. I just lipread the best I can and I have friends who, without being asked, will jump in and start writing a summary of what's going on. They're kind like that.

Mk, friends, your turn. Whaddyawannaknow?

Mystery

Theology is a hard thing for me to talk about sometimes. Partly because I feel inadequate to discuss it. And partly because I know my theology is flawed. I'm not sure anyone has a perfect theology, but I just don't like to be wrong. ;)

As far as my theological beliefs, the Reformed tradition sums it up well. Calvinist. Sovereignty. Glory. Suffering. Community. These are the buzzwords of Reformed theology today. John Piper, Mark Driscoll and Matt Chandler are its spokespersons. Throw in other names like Challies, Keller or Carson and you will be up to speed on Reformed-speak.

One of the defining characteristics of Reformed theology is its intellect. We, the "young, restless and reformed" crowd, tend to elevate thinking about God and talking about God and refining our doctrine and explaining what we believe. Logic, reason and (usually) literal interpretation are the norm. But, I fear, we start worshiping the system. I have noticed this about myself. I become very concerned about whether or not what I am thinking or feeling or pondering or concluding is right. Do I trust in God's sovereignty enough? Am I doing community the right way? If I forget to end my prayer with "for the glory of God," am I going to hell?

That's not faith. That is clinging to works, to thoughts instead of God. It is easy, in the Reformed tradition of intellect, to overthink things (Maybe that is why I feel so comfortable among Reformed peers... I am an overthinker! ;)). To somehow lose God in the process.

I'm going to link to two other blogs now. You might find it ironic, especially if you're not Reformed, that I'm linking to Reformed blogs that talk about this very thing. We're an ironic species, we humans. Just go with it.

I've always appreciated John Piper. In the midst of some very frustrating and dark times in my life, it was Piper's sermons that the Lord used to draw me to Himself again. Certainly I struggle with elevating Piper to God-like proportions. I jokingly call myself a Piper-ette. Which is exactly the point I'm trying to make - the battle of intellect vs. the Person of God. But anyway, I appreciated what he had to say in a recent Ask Pastor John segment. John Piper's Caution for the New Reformed movement

Then I read this gem from The Resurgence today. Pretty much the same point, but a little more expansive.

I'm getting a headache from thinking. Certainly thinking has its place in Christianity. In doctrine, theology and daily living. God is the Great Thinker and if we are made in His image, we were made to consider, reason and ponder. But to do it apart from the heart of God is meaningless. I'm a very emotional person. So emotional that I just do not trust myself very much. I make a lot of decisions based on how I'm feeling that get me nowhere at best or prove disastrous at worst. So in order to counter the dangerous effects of emotions, I tend to stifle them. I shove them out of the way where they can't be a distraction and try to silence the pangs clamoring for my attention. There can be a time and place for that. But to do it all the time is, I think, dishonoring to the Lord. We're called to "love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." It is okay to have an emotional walk with God, or an emotional spiritual experience. To be overflowing with passion or gratitude or love or tears or pain. To really feel it.

Along those lines, I think that is why imagination is important. We've been going through the book of Colossians at church and the concept of mystery in relation to God has come up a couple times. Particularly Colossians 1:26-28 - "[T]he mystery hidden for ages and generations but now revealed to his saints. To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ." It's not mystery like God is withholding something from us unfairly, but that He is so incredible and vast that there are just some things we'll never quite be able to wrap our heads around. Or that won't be made known to us apart from His timing. But I like that there is mystery. That we won't ever get tired of plumbing the depths of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God. That there is always something to explored, some new perspective to gain, new mercies to be realized. That there is room for wonder and excitement among logic and reason.

Hard to love and ugly

I am pretty sure that my pastors must have some kind of microchip implanted in my brain. How else could they deliver a sermon every single Sunday that sounds like a page from my life? They are up to something. I just know it. ;)

Our church is going through the book of Colossians and today was Colossians 3:5-6.

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming.

The pastor talked a lot about how if Jesus is our only hope, then our actions should follow suit. His biggest fear, he says, is that we will think that behavior modification is the path to salvation. That if we just do this thing or don't do that other thing, but don't deal with the heart issue, that everything will just be hunky-dory. Then he said something like, "There are so many people here who have been sweet and nice and quiet in the church and they stay under the radar. They are leaving sins in their hearts unchecked because they think they've cleaned up their outside but not their inside and no one ever noticed them enough to speak into their lives about their heart issues."

It was at that point that I considered having my place swept for bugs. I just know they're listening in on me. Do you hear me, pastors? I am on to you.

I've always known that I'm a sinner and I need a Savior and Jesus is the only way to Heaven. But I've never fully realized my tendency to blame others when things go wrong, or when I'm sad, or when life is overwhelming. For example, I've been indulging lately in feeling lonely. This inevitably leads to feeling angry and bitter. Clearly, this is everyone else's fault because they don't reach out to me even though I try to be more engaging. Shame on them for failing. And this is also not something I signed up for, but my hearing loss forces me away from people and makes communication harder to achieve. So really, it is not my fault that I get mad or frustrated - if I wasn't hard of hearing, I wouldn't be this way. So obviously, it's not my fault that my actions haven't been lining up with the person God has called me to be. Obviously.

Then I did that thinking thing. Ugh. It always gets me into all sorts of trouble. I thought. And I pondered. I toyed with the idea... "What if it's not them? What if it's me? What if I have particular sins that drive people away? What if I am not as marvelous and wonderful and delightful as I think I am? What if I am not a victim but an instigator?"

I've always been that fly-under-the-radar kind of person. I'm nice and helpful and bend over backwards for people. But I don't let people get too close. I'm open, but not vulnerable. I'm the shoulder to cry on but I won't lean on yours. On top of that, I'm pushy, nosy and demanding. I'm a know-it-all and think highly of myself. My soul is so riddled with pride, criticism and self-righteousness. My problem isn't other people and what they've done or not done to me. My problem isn't that I live with a profound hearing loss and all that that entails. My biggest problem is that I'm a sinner, that there is something inherently wrong with me, that I love to sin and do things that dishonor God and hurt my relationships with other people (We don't think of it like that, that we "love to sin." But it's true, we do. We're more passionate about making ourselves happy - even with seemingly good things like families, food and fellowship - and feeding our egos than we are about loving God).

The problem is me. Maybe when I pester people to go out to lunch, that's a turn-off because what I'm really doing is not respecting their boundaries and demanding my own way, that my needs be served. Maybe when I get mad that other people seem to have more friends, I'm really just coveting that they got what I wanted. I'm like a three-year-old complaining that the other kid is playing with that toy, even when I have a perfectly good toy in my own hands. I'm greedy. And maybe, just maybe, all the overthinking I do isn't the result of some drama that just came to me... maybe I'm actually the instigator by all the thinking I do because I'm trying to control something that I can't.

See, those are the earthly things Paul is telling us to put to death. I loved the colorful way our pastor put it today (I'm paraphrasing. I don't take notes during the sermon, so this is based on my own recollection. Eek): "Be passionate about annilihating anything that would rob you of your affections for God. Put it to death."

That sounds trite these days. Put our sin to death. Jesus is our only hope. God is enough. Jesus died to bring you to God. We say them so often and they've been absorbed into our church-ese that they don't mean anything to us anymore. Indeed, I had even been getting a little anxious with our pastors because they basically were preaching the exact same sermon every week. Didn't matter what the text was, the final message was always, "Jesus is our only hope." I wanted to scream, "I KNOW! So now what?!"

But the more I reflect on the truth that Jesus is, in fact, my only hope, that my sin is so great that it separates me from God, and that apart from Him, I can't make myself good or right, the more I realize how much I do not live a life that responds to that hope. I cling to things like work and family and friends and company and TV and food and dreams of marriage to fulfill me but they never, ever do. Never. That sounds trite, too, to say that God is enough. But really, we live like God + ____ = enough. Oh, what a lie we buy into when we think that. How we insult God's holiness when we say as long as He gives us this, that and the other AND Him, then we'll be okay. But the truth is that if your family and friends and company and TV and food and marriage were pulled out from under you, if they were all gone tomorrow, all you would be left with would be the Lord and that would still be enough. Do you know that? I mean, do you really know that? Or are you waiting for God to give you things that you think make you happy, instead of resting in Him alone who is your greatest joy?

If Jesus is my only hope, Paul says, I should abhor the things that starve me of my affections for Him. Because God is enough, I should be waging war on "what is earthly in [me]: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry." I shouldn't be waging war on perceived slights or the unfairness of life, but on the things that would draw me away from the Giver of life... and rejoicing that He has brought me near by the precious blood of Christ.

One of the songs we sang at the closing of the service was "I Am One of Those" by Nathan Partain. Google it. Find it. Listen to it. I don't know how to embed audio or video here (I'm a slow blog learner), so you'll have to do the dirty work. But the last stanza brought it all home for me:

I am one of those, who was hard to love and ugly
Self-righteous, critical; religion was my stain,
Then I came to Christ to wash and be discovered,
Jesus came to me and covered up my shame.

I am hard to love and ugly... but Jesus came to me and covered up my shame.

Something's wrong with me. Only Jesus can fix it. This is the gospel. This is grace.

Quiet

I have been reflecting on quiet lately. Being hard of hearing is not quite as silent as you might think. My ears ring sometimes. With my hearing aids on, I hear lots of noises but I'm not always able to pick out specific sounds. Everything blurs into one mass of white noise. Sometimes turning my hearing aids off is a relief. Quiet becomes a safe place rather than a frightening one. Sometimes it's lonely, but at the same time, sometimes I need the lonely.

I've also been thinking about the quiet of my heart. A verse that keeps popping up in my life is 1 Thessalonians 4:11, but I'm big on context, so here's verses 9-12:

Now concerning brotherly love you have no need for anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another, for that indeed is what you are doing to all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.

I grew up in a culture of Christianity that dreamed big things. If God called you to do something, it was going to be Big. And Awesome. And Everyone Would Take Notice. And if you weren't doing something Crazy, then maybe you weren't really a Christian. Or something. That's how I felt sometimes anyway.

I tend to expect Huge Things when I feel called to do something. Like if I feel called to, I don't know, make Rice Krispie treats for my neighbors, then I assume something Big is going to happen if I do. Like we'll be BFFs or conquer the world together or something. Or even with this blog, I confess I expect a lot out of it. I write here for a lot of reasons but mostly I write because I feel like that's a passion the Lord created in me. So sometimes I think that means that I have to say Amazing and Meaningful and Deep and Rock Your Face Off things ALL the time. Which is really very arrogant, unrealistic and exhausting!

I admit I'm tempted. I'm jealous sometimes of people who live what I call loud lives. Everyone knows their name. They do Great Things, like write books or lead seminars or preach sermons or heal bodies or feed the poor. I don't do these things. And I often battle the whisper of doubt that nags at me, "You're not good enough. You're not cool enough. Your life is not loud enough. You must not really love Jesus because you haven't rescued all the children in China."

But that verse keeps popping up. The truth is, I'm more at home living a quiet life. My place is behind those who are on the front lines, to pray for them and lift them up and serve them, so that they can do the Big Things. My job is to take care of kids so their parents can have a break. To type words to the internet so maybe somebody else somewhere else knows that they're not alone in their hearing aids. To be faithful to my work, honor my bosses and respect those in authority. To make the neighbors feel welcome. To be faithful to all the things in between. To aspire to live a quiet life.

Tempting

I've been reading a few D/deaf blogs lately and I always walk away never quite sure what to think. What I do know is that it is tempting to jump into that kind of lifestyle again. To sign instead of talk or sign and talk and understand and keep up. To commiserate with those who struggle with hearing loss in a hearing world. To feel like part of the group. It's tempting to think that will bring satisfaction.

I've been all over eHarmony in the last couple weeks. Most of the time, I've walked away discouraged. I'm far too... traditional? Old-fashioned? Downright prudish? to initiative conversation myself. So I wait. And wait. And wait. For someone else to do it. And when they do, they're... how do I put this nicely? ... not quite my cup of tea. And when I do get matched with someone who is my cup of tea, my hopes skyrocket to frightening levels. It's tempting to think I'll find acceptance there.

It's been a tempting week or two. There's this constant craving to belong, to fit in, to be part of something, to feel included and content. It's tempting to think that things of this earth will satisfy those needs. Tempting to think that I'm in charge of finding my own way on my own, to think that I have the power to do that.

It's tempting to think my problems are only earthly. That all my issues are outside of me and not inside. But the truth is that my biggest problem isn't that I wear hearing aids or that I don't wear a ring on my left hand. My biggest problem is that I'm a sinner in need of a Savior. To paraphrase Paul Tripp, I want to think that my problems are outside of me and the solution(s) is inside of me, that if I just have enough self-esteem or strength of character, I can handle anything life throws my way. But the truth is that all my problems are inside of me and the only Solution is outside of me. All the self-esteem in the world won't free me from the problem inside of me. Only Christ - not hearing aids or rings - can do that.

I know my hope is in Christ alone and frankly, I've been playing that song (In Christ Alone - the Newsboys version) almost nonstop the last couple of days, hoping it'll make my heart catch up with my head. I'm thankful the Lord isn't dependent upon us or our emotions for His truth. What I know to be true is that God is enough. Hearing or deaf or single or married, Christ is sufficient.

I know this, but I battle to know it.

For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin.

Romans 7:15-25 (ESV)

It's been one of those "wretched man that I am!" kind of weeks. But it's also been one of those "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!" kind of moments. Praise God that His truth is objective and our shifting (and sometimes shifty) emotions don't undo it. Praise God that His truth is absolute and not dependent upon changing circumstances. Praise God that He is enough ... even when I don't "feel" like it.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.

Romans 8:1-2 (ESV)

Praise God for the freedom we have in Christ. Praise God for hope.

In His Time

Our church is going through a series on its core values. So far, we've done truth, worship, transformation and community. This week it was beauty and next week it will be city.

I gotta tell you, I was/am a little stumped on the beauty thing. Everything else makes sense to me. Truth - totally essential. Worship, duh. Transformation - ditto. Community... well, you'd hope a church would uphold community, yes? But beauty? I don't know about that. Beauty as I know it is so subjective. Skin-deep. In the eye of the beholder. I was willing to admit the value of beauty in everyday life but not quite ready to embrace it as a core value for a church.

So I've been praying that the Lord would lay this thing called beauty on my heart and that if there was merit to it as a value, core or otherwise, that He would open my eyes to that truth.

And today I kept thinking about this song we used to sing at my old church. One of the lines went, "In His time/in His time/He makes all things beautiful/in His time." Then I started thinking about what that meant, especially in light of my hearing loss. I had dinner with a friend last night and I was telling her that I was so much more willing to trust the Lord with my friendships (or what I sometimes feel is a lack thereof) and socialization and that I had to come to grips that the life I had in mind for myself (belonging, being part of a regular circle of friends, movie nights, weekend outings, etc) was not the life He had called me to. And then I (embarrassingly) starting tearing up. Dangit, I explained, I'm really more okay with this than my eyes are letting on! :)

So I was just mulling that over today, that maybe the life He has called me to isn't what I had in mind for myself, but that even with my hearing loss, He will make everything beautiful in His time. And that there is a time for everything. A time for friends and a time for loneliness. The writer of Ecclesiastes never specifies just how much time anything should take and I'm grateful. Maybe my time of loneliness is a lifetime and a time of friendship an eternity... in Eternity. But what is so promising about the "Time" passage is that there is a time for everything. If there is a time for tears, then there will be a time for not tears. If there's a time for loneliness, then there will be a time for not loneliness.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-15

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man.

I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away."

There's a time for everything and I "cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." His works are too great and unfathomable and marvelous and beautiful for me to comprehend and I can rest in that.

And now, it's time... for dinner. ;)

The Thing

What's your thing?

That was the question posed on today's Stuff Christians Like (stalk it with me, will you? Your life will never be the same). And it's also the same question I've been pondering lately. Jon asks, "What’s the thing that makes you feel alive, that talent or gift or art or activity that feels handcrafted for you?"

My gut reaction is to say kids, but that could be the hormones talking. People are always (lovingly) pushing me towards writing and yes, I like writing. I do. I wouldn't have this here blog if I didn't. I wouldn't have a job in editing if I didn't. But it's not all I feel equipped for or gifted with. I already deal with words, words, words in my day job and during some evenings with the blog. I wish, though, that I was doing more with my life in addition to that.

One of the highlights of my week is babysitting 3-year-old J and his 1-year-old sister, E. UH-dorable. I love watching them grow. J is still learning about sharing and following rules. E has just discovered her tongue and walking. I got J a bubble gun for his birthday last week - he LOVED it. So did E. They were outside playing with it for a while. Then J got bored so E wanted to play with it but she hasn't quite mastered all of the dexterity required for such a skill. ;) A lot of times when I leave their house, I'll hug J goodbye and he runs off. Then right before I step out the door, he comes running back. "I wanna give you a kisth!" E couldn't care less when I leave but whenever I come over, she waddles right over to me with a toy in hand so we can play. I do love those kids.

A lifetime ago, I was on the leadership team for a deaf youth ministry. As I've alluded to before, it didn't end well. At the height of it, I was really in it for myself and not for the Lord and that's never a good deal. But what I did love was the mentoring. I was not a rock star at it by any means, but I genuinely wanted to see the young ladies I spent time with grow up in the grace and knowledge of God. And I wanted to help equip them for the world, for life (which was a pretty presumptuous goal for my 19/20 year old self!). Maybe I wasn't the best person to fill that role at that time because I was so young but since then, the desire to encourage those just a few years behind me never really went away. I'm a mother hen, really. My friends hate me for it sometimes ;) and while I'm learning to scale it back, I don't know how to be anything else.

So despite what I said yesterday, I really do want to be a mom, a wother, a mife. I know myself and I know my sin and I tremble at the thought of filling such roles. They are precious and great responsibilities and so easily confounded by sin. But I always forget that grace is part of the equation, too. It's been hard for me to admit, even to myself and to the Lord, that I want to be a wife and a mom. Maybe because I spent so many years convincing myself that "I don't need a man." I can also be kind of a closet feminist and sometimes worry that being married or raising children will mean losing me. And really, I've never been one of those girls who just alwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays wanted to get married and needed romance and flowers and sunshine and long walks to be fulfilled. I'm sure that when/if the time comes, I'll relish the lovey-dovey crap and make everyone around me sick, but honestly, what I'm excited for the most is the partner-in-crime part. ;) The one who's in my corner and holds my hand and doesn't take my crap. The knowing and being known part.

I'm not an idealist. I know marriage and parenthood are hard. So is singleness. There are good things about both and there are hard things about both. There are things you can only learn by being married and things you can only learn from a lifetime of singleness. As a single woman, there are times when I just reallyreallyreally wish I had a husband. And I'm sure that if/when I'm married, there will be times that I will reallyreallyreally wish I was single. Whatever my marital state is, I want to savor the season. I want to savor this season (life? months? years?) of singleness. And I'd want to savor marriage if the Lord called me to it.

So going back to the original question. My thing? Writing and loving on kids. I hope that other things include being a wife and being a mom but if not, that's okay. Because the Thing that all of those things rest on is Christ. If I didn't have writing or babysitting or a husband or kids, I would still have Jesus... and that is the greatest thing of all.

Dining, drive-thrus and drives

Random fact of the day: I love driving nowhere in particular. My perfect vacation would probably be a road trip across the U.S.



Hearing aids: I love Sonic. Or rather, I love their Cherry Cokes. I don't go very often, though. Partly because I'm trying to wean myself of a sugary-drink addiction but mostly because I don't do drive-thrus (okay, technically Sonic is a drive-in but whatever. Work with me here). I can't understand what they say at the intercom and I'm terrified I'll end up ordering too many onion rings.

Oh, I know of deaf or hard of hearing people who will just bypass the intercom and go straight to the drive up window and place an order there. Or what I've done in the past with Sonic has been to push the button and ask for someone to come out and take my order. I quit doing that when they kept coming out with paper and pen for me to write down what I wanted. :p

But when I have my youngest brother in the car with me, we can whip through the drive thrus. He does the listening and I do the talking. It's not a perfect system, but it works. Sometimes I wonder if I could bluff my way through ordering. I know they'll say something like, "Hello, How can I help you today?" and I can place my order. But it gets tricky after that. Will they ask if I want fries with that or will they just tell me how much it is and to go ahead and pull up to the window? I can't think of a neutral phrase that would satisfy both possible scenarios.

In other news: It's spring again. For now, anyway. It doesn't say so on the calendar, but right now, at 8:07 pm, my Weatherbug reads 59 degrees. It's spring, friends. I love new beginnings. I love that God is a God of new beginnings. Of starting fresh. Of forgetting what is behind and pressing on towards the goal. Of second (and third and seventh and 37th) chances.

I have been gripped by fear lately. I had been facing the question of, "If God is good, why do bad things happen?" much more intensely than before. Oh, when it comes to suffering and God's sovereignty, I often fool myself into thinking I have a handle on it. Hearing loss is suffering. I've made my peace (erm, mostly) with God's sovereignty over it. (This doesn't mean I never whine, or wonder, or wish for something else. Just that most of the time, I'm able to say, "God's in control of my hearing loss.") And really, I know I could have it so much worse. Whatever I suffer in my hearing loss is so much less than what other people suffer every day in their minds.

So it's been keeping me awake at night - how can God stand by and watch all this evil happen? How can He sit there while people are tortured, raped, sold, attacked? Shouldn't I be terrified of a god who would do that?

But then He reminded me that, as always, I had it oh so wrong and was, as usual, asking the wrong questions. God doesn't sit by while these things happen, He sits *with* us when they do. He never promises that we will be without trouble, but He does promise we will never be alone when we face it. And He always, always delivers a new beginning from it. Definitely in the life to come, maybe sometimes on this side of Heaven, too.

"... Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love; and he relents over disaster." - Joel 2:13

God is not eager to send disaster. He doesn't gleefully rub His hands and twirl His mustache like He's plotting something devious. He doesn't cheerfully whip out God's Giant Bag 'O Pain and dump it out on an unsuspecting world. He relents over disaster.

I don't know why we sometimes see God like that. Probably because He threatens our illusions of security, of ourselves. When pain comes, we wonder why it happened, as if we are special and entitled to sorrow-free lives. So when bad things happen (and they will), in our heart of hearts, we are wondering, "How dare God allow that to happen. I don't deserve this." No, we don't deserve this. We deserve far worse and we fail to see how God is merciful in our pain.

We've been reading Mark 13 at church - Jesus is talking to His disciples about the day of judgement. One thing that keeps catching my eye (and heart) is Mark 13:20. Here's the context:

“But when you see the abomination of desolation standing where he ought not to be (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let the one who is on the housetop not go down, nor enter his house, to take anything out, 16 and let the one who is in the field not turn back to take his cloak. And alas for women who are pregnant and for those who are nursing infants in those days! Pray that it may not happen in winter. 19 For in those days there will be such tribulation as has not been from the beginning of the creation that God created until now, and never will be. And if the Lord had not cut short the days, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect, whom he chose, he shortened the days." Mark 13:14-20

This reminds me of when Abraham was pleading with God not to destroy Sodom. "If there are 50 righteous people here, will you hold back? Will you not destroy the city?" Abraham asks of God. God agrees. "For the sake of 50, I won't destroy." Abraham persists and ask the same question. "How about 45? 40? 20? 10?" Each time, God says, "For the sake of 45, 40, 20 and 10, I will not destroy the city." (Genesis 18:27-33) It may not seem like it, but God is holding evil at bay for our sakes. If we're attacked, or mutilated, or raped, or hurt, or robbed, or ignored, or left out - God is holding evil back. He is showing grace and mercy even in the middle of hurt.

Horrible things are going to happen. Jesus isn't shy about sharing that. He tells us in John 16 that we will have tribulation. Life is going to be hard. And I daresay the Christian life is incomplete and lacking without suffering. There's no such thing as a prosperity gospel, which says that if we just believe enough, we'll be healthy, wealthy and wise. I know sometimes we think, "If I just love God enough, He'll keep me safe." or maybe, "If I ask Jesus into my heart 12 times, nothing bad will ever happen to me." Not so, friends, no matter how much we want to make it so. God promises suffering.

But even in suffering, in pain, in hardships, when the day is long and the night is pitch black and you don't know which way is up or right or backwards, He will be gracious. In ways we can't see or maybe even know here, He is holding evil back. Whatever pain comes our way - it will never be as bad as it could as if He had no reign over it. The very worst thing I can ever imagine in this life is complete abandonment from God. And that is the very thing I can be absolutely sure I will never have to suffer - because Jesus already did. He already bore the wrath of God and God literally turned His back on His Son so that He would never have to turn His back on us.

Sometimes knowing that He is sovereign over evil makes me a little nervous - what more suffering does He have in store for me? Sometimes I don't think I can take any more. But I can stand in confidence that whatever suffering is waiting - I won't do it alone. I won't be abandoned and I will find grace and mercy in the midst of evil.

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 8:37-39

You'll never walk alone

Random fact of the day: VeggieTales are alive and well in my house. Things I've re-learned this weekend include, but are not limited to: God is bigger than the boogey man, a thankful heart is a happy heart and God made you special and He loves you very much! (insert cheesy grin)

Hearing aids: I've been reflecting lately on how lonely it is inside these hearing aids. Not in a wah-wah, poor me, life is soooooooooo hard kind of way. Just in a let's face it, this is the way it is kind of way. Even when I'm around people, it's hard not to get wrapped up in my own thoughts because trying to keep up with everyone gets tiring. Can you imagine a world in which the only person you could rely on to be a source of entertainment, a conversation starter or a deep thought sharer was... you? And not being able to find the words to explain to people what that's like? It's just lonely sometimes. And I wish I had better words to explain it. I think if people really know what when on inside of someone's hearing aids, they might be quicker to help. More eager to include. So this is me doing my best to put it out there.

In other news: I know I ragged on the Winter Olympics earlier, but I found myself watching them over the last few weeks. I cheered when Shaun White won a gold. I cried when Joannie Rochette skated. I sat on the edge of my couch during men's speed skating. And I loved that millions across the country and around the world were doing the same thing.

I'm really not an athletic person. My idea of hiking involves a gym and an elliptical. Skiing is best left to the pros and ice skating conjures images of butt-ice contact. No thanks. But I was riveted by the Opening Ceremony and have been following a bit of the Closing Ceremony tonight. I love that even in hard times - in the midst of earthquakes and wars and racism and tsunamis and terrorism and a thousand other horros - we can put aside our differences long enough to play some games. To just shut it all out for a little bit and cheer and cry and celebrate together.

One of my new favorite Olympic commercials is that "You'll Never Walk Alone" one that P&G has done as part of its "Moms" series. (Lyrics here) Love it. I always mist up at the end. Partly because, come on, how can you not? Mom's-my-biggest-fan doesn't leave dry eyes often. And partly because isn't that something we all need to know? To press on when things are tough and maybe even scary? That there's a light at the end of the tunnel and that we'll never go through it alone?

The song isn't an overtly Christian one, but the last lines say it all:

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone

As long as that hope is in Christ, we will never walk alone. Even when I'm at my loneliest, I'm never really alone. And there is a tremendous amount of relief wrapped up in that one little sentence that all the words in the world couldn't do it justice.

The hills are aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive....

Random fact of the day: I hate doing dishes even though I have a dishwasher. I don't like putting them away for some reason. So I end up just retrieving (clean) dishes from the dishwasher when I need them. It's like having an extra cabinet! :D

Hearing Aids: I love music. I wouldn't say I'm as up to speed with what the cool kids listen to these days, though. Out of ALL the songs they sang on Glee this past fall, I knew... two? I grew up listening to Christian music - I had it in my head that anything else was just evil. (Yet I watch "secular" TV with noooo problem. Hm) Plus honestly, the cool kid music is hard to hear. Like bands today purposefully record their albums so that the music overshadows the lyrics. The Christian artists I listened to tended to be easier to hear because they didn't do that (some do, I know. I don't listen to them lol).

Anyway, I've always been thankful that God in His grace left me enough hearing to enjoy music. (I am pretty sure I owe my early spiritual formation to Michael Card. ;)) It's a process for me to learn a song. I have to memorize it by following along with printed lyrics and once I memorize the lyrics, I also memorize beats. I even used to count how many seconds between the opening instrumental and the first lyrics so I wouldn't miss anything. If anything's off, if I count just half a beat too slow or too fast, if I forget just one line, I've lost my place in the song and while I hear the music, it doesn't make sense anymore. I can no longer appreciate it the way the artist wrote it.

Isn't life like that sometimes? The last several years and in particular, the last six months, have been something else. Church hurt. I got angry. And stayed angry. I moved out. I moved in. I got a job. Got left out. Railed against hypocrisy while being the poster child for it. I lost my place and while I could live some kind of life, it paled - pales - in comparison to who Jesus is.

I was listening to an old CD yesterday. I hadn't listened to it in years. I forgot some of the lyrics. I remembered the chorus, but that was all I remembered. For the life of me, I could not remember anything else but the chorus. I get so frustrated when that happens. Just one more lapse in communication. I prayed, as I always do, "God, please, help me understand the music!" And almost immediately, I heard the last stanza as if I'd been singing it all my life.

When I doubt, when I wonder, when I struggle, when I lose my place, when I ask, "How could You do this to me?", the answer is always in a song. I think God sometimes plants specific songs on purpose - they get stuck in my head and I'm forced to listen to the message all day. :) Like He sings the song back to me when I've forgotten the words... on the CD and behind the hearing aids.

The Arrow and the Song
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

In other news: I'm hosting brunch tomorrow! So, it's off to chop and brown and slice and prepare! I love it!