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“Positivity is the key to success”

The words rang through our home numerous times each day, from a daughter to her brother throughout his adolescents.

They are good words, they are encouraging words … but they are not always the words one desires to hear when negative situations seems to falling into one’s lap, over and over, day after day.

The Bible allows for a little negativity:

  • Job, quite literally, sat upon a dung heap numbering his woos
  • the Psalmist has numerous accounts of laments
  • Esau cried out loudly when his birthright was given to his brother
  • heck, an entire book in the Old Testament is called Lamentations

It is okay to to lament, sit for awhile on a dung heap and to cry out to God.

Our God knows and sees all that we experience in this life. He knows when we hurt, when we are angry, when we ache. To not share our laments with him is pointless, for we cannot hide anything from him.

With our acknowledgement of the negatives in our lives, can come some relief, for in the telling, the sharing of our hearts in the safety of communion with God, it can be like a needle prick in a balloon, allowing the tension of holding it all in to be broken.

In sharing our honest hearts with God, we release our negative situation to him, no longer being held down by it’s control.

Though positivity can be a key to success, dealing rightly with the negatives is also an important factor. Holding on to the negatives in our lives, as if they were a precious jewel, does not allow us the freedom that comes from handing them over to God.

And he is safe with our laments, for “he was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain” (Isaiah 53:3).

 

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blogAfter being awakened, far too early, by my torturer (aka, the Wonder Dog) I sat watching the sky to show signs of morning moving aside the darkness of night, my phone dinged an incoming text.

A sweet lady I know was awake when she received a notification, by email, of a blog post from itsawonderfilledlife, and she let me know that she felt she could hear my voice saying it’s words, telling it’s message, to just her.

The most common question I get about this site is,

“How do you have time to write a blog?”

To which I would say, I just do it.

The real question isn’t how? The real question is, why? For if the answer to why feeds some part of us, the how is redundant, for we do not starve ourselves from that which nourishes our souls.

A couple of years ago I wrote about my writing as being what I leave for my kids, in the post, Writing as a Legacy. I have also written about my purpose in Why do I write this Blog? In that post I wrote:

“Although there is great jesting in my house about my desire for Oprah to discover me, really, I write for me. This little corner of the cyber world is where I connect with God, where I process my hurts, where I share my celebrations, and where I just get it all out. For me, itsawonderfilledlife is my hairdresser, my bartender, my shrink. And, you who read are the flies on the wall.”

I do write, primarily, to leave a legacy for my children, and I do write because it is a place where I can be the real me, as I share my successes and failures, and my insights on them. Because we all have such insights …

We all live in the mundane, the magical and mayhem of real life. We all experience love and hate. We all have given forgiveness, and been given forgiveness. We all strive, fall and have to face the reality that we must get back up again. We all have times of being full with life, and times of struggle to get out of bed.

And that, is life … real life.

I simply give words to it all.

It is not unusual to receive messages from people like these:

“I so needed to hear what you wrote.”

“I am going through the same thing.”

“Thanks for sharing your heart.”

“I needed those words today.”

I write … for my kids, for myself.

And I hope that my words of love and loss, success and failure, laughter and weeping, joy and struggle touch you, the reader. Whether the stats show that there were two views, or two hundred, on any given day.

No matter the number of views, it’s the comments, emails, messages and texts in the wee hours of the morning that tell me this isn’t just about me (or even my kids). This is what God does when we offer him the little we have, and he works though our little, to multiply his love into all of our stories.

 

 

 

 

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As I looked across the table, last Friday, at the birthday boy, I realized that this was a different Christmas indeed.

With hubby on a medical leave, there was a palatable absence of something …

busyness.

Though hubby is tired (so tired), he is not pre-occupied. The ring of his phone, the ding of a text or email is silent, peaceful. He is not rushing off to … anything.

Our most difficult decision on Christmas Eve was, where to attend church. For hubby, being with groups of people are fatiguing, so I chose a small Anglican church, offering a “Holy Eucharist with Candlelight”. It was to be a first time experience.

As we entered the small sanctuary, we sat in two of the last available seats, one in front of the other, and the service began. It was traditional, liturgical … probably the same as it had been done there for much of it’s over one hundred years.

And there was comfort in it’s traditions, that have stood the test of time.

Looking toward the front, my eyes and mind were captivated by the large stained glass window at the back. The focal image was that of Jesus, holding a lamb … the Good Shepherd. It reminded me of a similar stained glass window in the church my grandmother had attended, and I remember, so fondly, from my childhood.

I am not sure if the one speaking recognized the significance of her homily, when she began by describing the shepherds … in the Christmas pageant held earlier.

According to Wonderololis the profession of shepherd is probably one of the oldest professions, and practiced all over our world. They work long hours,  roaming deserted countrysides, enduring all forms of weather, and always needing to be on the alert for predators, who seek to destroy the sheep in their care. Plus, by all accounts, sheep are … not very intuitive (aka, they are thick as a brick).

The work of the shepherd can be long, tiring, lonely.

The term shepherd can also be attributed to those in the role of pastor, priest, minister. They too can experience their task to be long, tiring and lonely … especially at this high expectation and busy season of Christmas.

When Jesus is described as the Good Shepherd, the Greek word, kalos, is used, and it means noble, wholesome. It is a goodness that comes from the inside out, not a behaviour but character. In a sense Jesus is a shepherd unlike any other, real or metaphorically. For he was not just born for this role, but conceived for it.

The Good Shepherd,

  • who lays down His life for the sheep (John 10:11)
  • tends His flock … gathers the lambs and carries them in His bosom (Isaiah 40:11)
  • he calls his own sheep by name … and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice (John 10:3-4)

He is the true Good Shepherd, who leads his flock in the power and grace specifically given to him.

All others (even priests, pastors and the like) are followers … sheep in need of the shepherd … and he carries us close, knows our names and gave his life for us.

 

 

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This Christmas season, writing this blog has been more challenging. So, I have (mostly) re-posted my cheerier Christmas words from years past.

I didn’t want to put a damper on the season of hope, joy, love and faith.

With the joy of a new job and co-workers I love, came the loss of a large community that I adored. With our kids growing and starting new adventures, comes the end of their need of me. With hubby being on a medical leave that stretches into the new year, comes more question marks about the future, than certainty.

Then I read an article called Celebrating Christmas with a Broken Heart. Towards the end of the article, the author, Brittany Salmon, wrote:

“Believer, God came to earth to make broken things whole. It’s okay for you to be broken this holiday season because of the baby in the manger.”

The Christmas season does not simply celebrate picture-perfect nativities, with clean animals, angels, a contented baby and peaceful new parents. It is the bloody mess of a baby born to an unwed mother, a homeless family in a strange town. It is the story that begins in blood and must end that way … to redeem the mess of humanity.

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The words that Jesus spoke to his disciples the night before his death, echo in our hearts in the Christmas season. You see Christmas is not Christmas without Easter.

We are not made holy by Jesus’ conception,
but in his crucifixion. 

And his crucifixion was the once for all blood sacrifice, to make the broken things of our lives whole. To make us whole … even when we are cracked, bruised and broken. Even when we are lonely, weak and wandering. Even when our past is past and our future uncertain.

And so, in brokenness, I will look to that babe in the manger, who came to overcome the world … and make my broken heart whole.

 

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Listening to a Christmas CD, I have found myself repeating a song I had listened to many times, yet had never really heard.

As Josh Groban’s voice fills my vehicle with the Latin words that shared how the poor and humble servant would be satiated by the gift from heaven, my thoughts drifted to Christmas.

Panis Angelicus,  (bread of angels or bread of heaven) was written by Thomas Aquinas in the twelve hundreds, as part of a communion-themed hymn called Sacris Solemniis.

In English, the lyrics are as follows:

Heavenly bread

That becomes the bread for all mankind;
Bread from the angelic host
That is the end of all imaginings;
Oh, miraculous thing!
This body of God will nourish
Even the poorest,
The most humble of servants.
Even the poorest,
The most humble of servants.
 
Heavenly bread
That becomes the bread for all mankind;
Bread from the angelic host
That is the end of all imaginings;
Oh, miraculous thing!
This body of God will nourish
Even the poorest,
The most humble of servants.
Even the poorest,
The most humble of servants.

Heavenly bread … like the manna, provided to the Israelites, by God himself, in the desert. The Israelites, complaining about the menu, forgetting from the bondage that they left when lead into the desert (perhaps a desert is not so dry and desolate).

Like manna from heaven, God send his Son to Earth. Like the Israelites who wandered in the desert, we too live our lives as if our existence is in a dry and desolate place. We too complain, not because we are starving, but because we want more than just sustenance, we strive to icing on the cake (our cake). We desire more, more, more, of all that does not satisfy.

We have within reach, even in our grasp, the bread of heaven, through the Christ child, yet me look beyond him to what is temporary. It is as though we look straight through him, all the while crying for more.

Perhaps we have too much.

Perhaps we need to be the most humble, the poorest of servants before we can be truly filled with this bread of heaven, this Christmas, and every day.

Our fathers ate the manna in the desert; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’
Then Jesus said to them, “Most assuredly, I say to you, Moses did not give you the bread from heaven, but My Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is He who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”
Then they said to Him, “Lord, give us this bread always.”
 And Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.”
John 6:31-35

 

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As the holly jolly, festive season is in full gingerbread house building swing, some are left asking,

What is the Christmas Spirit,
and how does one get it?

For the Christian it is the celebration of the birth of Christ, our Redeemer. But being a follower of Christ does not mean that we might not feel the spirit of Christmas in the season.

Recently someone stated that, despite watching numerous Christmas movies, they were not feeling the spirit of Christmas.

It got me thinking … (and I love it when something gets me thinking)

What is the Christmas Spirit,
and how does one get it?

Yes, I am a Christ-follower, yet I am not immune to to feelings of humdrum at this time of year. I sought out a favourite Christmas music CD to listen to in my vehicle (or my own private chapel, as I like to think of it), in the hopes of getting into the Christmas spirit, and it was … okay. I brought the tree out of storage, and set lights to it, and it is … pretty. I hung lit (not the Urban dictionary version of lit) boughs over my front door, and a wreath which did make me smile when I came home in the evenings, but …

the question persisted,

What is the Christmas Spirit,
and how does one get it?

When one searches the internet for such answers, the predominant discoveries do, indeed, point to the nativity, the birth of the long-anticipated Jesus. But what if one does not feel it?

I love the words of Peter Marshall:

“So we will not ‘spend’ Christmas nor ‘observe’ Christmas.
We will ‘keep’ Christmas – keep as it is…
in all the loveliness of its ancient traditions.
May we keep it in our hearts,
that we may be kept in its hope.” 

His words make me think of another festive quote:

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?
It came without ribbons.
It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

What the Grinch, and Peter Marshall know is that we cannot manufacture the Spirit of Christmas, we need to keep it. To keep it is to do. It is to practice it, to not just listen, but to sing the songs of announcement, joy and celebration. It is to, not just hang lights, but to look to the light that came to our world and lives. It is to, not just exchange gifts, but share the gift of hope that God’s gift is to we who have accepted it. It is to, not just watch the seasonal movies, but be moved to bring heaven to Earth for those who have little.

My searching for the feeling of the Spirit of Christmas, rekindled it in my own heart, for it is a feeling that comes from a knowledge and understanding that it comes, it has come, in spite of my actions or feelings. I only need to seek it, and reflect it.

“The Christmas message is that there is hope for a ruined humanity—hope of pardon, hope of peace with God, hope of glory—because at the Father’s will Jesus Christ became poor, and was born in a stable so that thirty years later He might hang on a cross. It is the most wonderful message the world has ever heard, or will hear.
…the ‘Christmas spirit’…ought to mean the reproducing in human lives of the temper of Him who for our sakes became poor at the first Christmas. And the Christmas spirit itself ought to be the mark of every Christian all year round.”
J. I. Packer (Knowing God)

 

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As Saturday fell, and Sunday rose, so did the first Sunday of Advent … the Sunday of Hope.

It is interesting that the Christmas story, though one of hope, has fear woven through the human experience of heaven’s story.

The angels who came down and spoke to Mary, Zachariah, Joseph and the shepherds in the watching their flocks were aware that their presence, and the message that they were delivering, would cause fear in the hearts of the recipients:

To Zechariah:
“Don’t be afraid, Zechariah!” Luke 1:13

To Mary:
“Mary don’t be afraid …” Luke 1:30

To Joseph:
“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid … “ Matthew 1:20

To the shepherds:
“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid.”” Luke 2:10

It is said that in the Old and New Testaments there are as many exhortations to

DO NOT FEAR

as there are days in a calendar year.

Fear is a reality in our lives … we know it, God knows it.

The Bible doe not exhort, (“communicate emphatically, urging one to do something” Google search) us to not fear, because it is the exception, but because it is the norm.

God, in his wisdom and understanding, knows that we will be anxious, that we will fear in our lives. He knows that we struggle to trust our futures into his hands. He knows us so well!

The message of the Christmas story is not:

fear not, for everything is about to get easier

The Christmas message is:

life is fearful, but you don’t have to walk it alone, for God is with you always.

 

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New-Command

This morning I get to speak at our church, and so my post today is the ‘guts’ of that message.

Though out of season from the traditional church calendar, today I am going to take us back to Passover, specifically the Passover surrounding the final days of Jesus.

The message today comes out of the account of the Final Supper, is told from the perspective of John, and is recorded only in the gospel (the good news) of John.

Here is the setting:

Jesus is having a meal with his 12. And he decides that his dirty dozen need their feet to be washed.

Then there is Judas, who had all that Jesus offered to all of the disciples, but then the bread is dipped into the wine, and Jesus holds it out to Judas …

Can you imagine being Judas? Imagine looking into the eyes of Jesus, and choosing to take the bread, fulfilling the prophesies of the Old Testament, records of the Psalms and Zechariah. He CHOSE to take the bread. And, as soon as did, as soon as he made the choice, verse 27 tells us that “Satan entered into him.” So, Judas leaves to do Satan’s work.

Jesus is aware that the clock is ticking in regards to his human life. He is now with his 11 disciples, whom he is counting on to spread the news of who Jesus is, and who will give accounts of his arrest, his trial, his death, his rising from the dead and ascension into heaven. He knows that whatever he says may be the last of his words that these men hear.

He is about to share with them, his magnum opus … his greatest work yet. It is a testament or sermon, common in Jewish culture. 

This reminds me of an annual practise in our household when our children were in elementary school. Each September we would get a notice from school … the earthquake preparedness notice. We would be instructed to put together, in a Ziploc bag a list of items (large garbage bag, nutritious snack bars, a deck of cards, a small toy, a water bottle, and a note).

That note … it made my heart stop every year. I would fill the plastic bag, ticking off every item on the list, leaving the note to last. And finally, after going to bed, after the house was dark and still, my quickened heart beat will force me out of bed, and I would boil the water, and stick a tea bag into it, then I would sit at the dining table, with paper and pen, and write what might be my final message to each of my children. And the tears would flow like the water in a spring brook … without choice, just flowing from a place higher up, that removed personal choice, from the action.

It was in the writing of those letters that what is really important, became really important to say.

Dear Cris,

I wish I was with you right now, but I am so glad that you can be with your school friends and your teachers who will look after you so well.

We are so proud of you. You have a heart for other people, and you do not care who they are, what they wear, how old they are … you just love people. Keep doing that, for that is what you were created for.

Be brave, like we know you are, my sweet girl, your daddy’s Red Rocket.

We are going to do all that we can to get to you, just as soon as possible.

Keep answering this question … you know the answer.

Mommy and Daddy love you, but who loves you the most?

It’s Jesus … don’t forget that. It is always Jesus who loves the most.

Do you hear our song? …

A, you’re adorable, B, you’re so beautiful, C, you’re a cutie full of charms …

Love you, to the moon and back,

Momma and Daddy

In John 13:33-35 (The Message), Jesus gave a new command to his followers (aka. those who would be the early Christian/Christ-following, yet imperfect) church:

“My children (he starts with “my children” … he is coming from a parental perspective, a perspective of limitless love, care and concern,  just like my earthquake notes to my children), I will be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come. Let me give you a new command (here it is, what is most important becomes the only message when it might be the last): Love one another.  Now repeat after me Love one another.  In the same way I loved you, you love one another ponder those words … now look around this room of believers … he, the Christ, who died for you, and me, is calling his disciples, is calling us (his church), to love each other as he loved … his love was self-sacrifice, it was his death.

Then he finishes his last testament with these words:

This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.”

You know what I am hearing right now?

“We are one in the spirit
We are one in the Lord
And we pray that our unity
May one day be restored
And they’ll know we are Christians by our love”

“This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples
—when they see the love you have for :

 

  • The poor?
  • The unborn?
  • The drug addict?

 

No, when they see the love you have for … one another, each other.”

The Matthew Henry Commentary speaks to that verse:

“if the followers of Christ do not show love one to another, they give reason to suspect their sincerity.

When the world outside of our church doors sees and hears of divisions within the relationships of Christ-followers, it makes the world doubtful of our authenticity, doubtful of the difference that Christ can make in the world. Jesus knew that this would be the case, and this is why he reminded his followers, all of his followers, in the form of a new commandment … love one another.

If we cannot get this one commandment right, the world will never fully see that we are followers of Christ, no matter how much we do for the poor, the unborn, the addict or any other person of need.

It is important that all members, like the disciples, who were the first followers of Christ,   love one another. This speaks to the world more loudly than whether or not we are members, if we have ever taken part in communion or how we were baptized.

By loving each other we mirror the way Jesus lived, we show his unique, sacrificial, undeniable Christ-like love to the world. If we do not show love to one another … are we truly His followers, His church?

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Maybe it’s at a buffet of food, all placed on tables and trays and in food warmers.

Or maybe it is at a shopping mall, in your favourite store, when the doors have opened on a new fashion season.

Or maybe it is a drive in the country, and the colors of autumn (an East Coast autumn) are everywhere.

Or maybe at an athletic stadium, where your favourite team is playing the season ending game.

In a variety of places and circumstances we can struggle with knowing where to look, or perhaps, where to place our attention, where to give our time.

In the daily living of tyranny of the urgent we are torn between what is urgent and what is important. Far too often what is urgent interrupts, clouds and pushes aside what is truly important, and of lasting value.

According to Forbes Media it is not our job demands, getting to swim practise on time, or missing that ever-invading tweet or FB post that people regret. It is people, and what we have missed out on with real life humans who have, at one time, captivated something so deep within us that on our deathbeds it is they who we long for most.

These memorable people are not just the ones we should long for in our final earthly hours, but we ought to keep the value of them in our daily life every day of our life.

As hubby’s vocation is that of a pastor, I hear often about death bed regrets, and of what it is that people want to talk about in their final hours.

They desire family, forgiveness and a real faith in a Saviour.

They want those who they love to be nearest to them. They want to right what has been wrong in their relationships. They want to have their eyes open for those gone before them, and for Jesus … to see him, face to face.

What if we lived every day, as our last day?

What if we loved and valued our greatest earthly human loves as though this were our last day with them, free of technology, dusting and the demands of daily life? What if we lived today with reconciliation in our hearts, and flowing freely from our lips, as we asked and offered forgiveness?

What if you (and I) were to actually Turn your Eyes to the Jesus, to see him in every aspect of our day?

Lets stop wasting our time indulging in everything at the buffet of life, and just choose to taste and see what satisfies most.

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The image (below) grabbed my attention.

Two hands, one reaching down, the other reaching up.

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In the image I could see the multitude of times that I reached up for the security of the hand of the Father, Creator and Redeemer of my soul.

I remembered the tears falling down my cheeks, the throbbing of my head with worry, and the rapid heartbeat in a desperate state of fear. These were not one memory, one experience, but numerous ones, over the years of my life. Moments that could have been defined as desperate, hopeless, fretful or in despair.

These are normative experiences of any life. They are what we share in our human existence of life. Some days and seasons leave you breathless, lifeless and hopeless. The light at the end of the tunnel seems extinguished, or, at the very least, hidden from sight.

When we reach the point of total desperation, it is often then that we have the strength and wisdom to lift our eyes, our hand to the one who can save us … even if, when we raise our hand, it is in the form of a fist.

Acts 17:27 tells us:

“they might look for God,
somehow reach for him,
and find him.
Of course,
he is never far from any one of us.”

His hand is always waiting for us to raise ours. He already knows our heartache, our hardship … yet we need to raise our hand to receive the love, the support and, perhaps, even the resolution or redemption, that he holds out to us.

May we life our hand, accepting his in ours, for “he is never far from any one of us.”

 

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