Birthday Party

I can't get this story out of my head.


"It was the right thing to do." ~ Tony Campolo  

Lord, give me eyes to see the right thing, and the everyday courage to do it.

"I would join a church like that." ~ Hawaiian Diner Owner

I couldn't help but think of a passage from Crazy Love by Francis Chan:

We need to stop giving people excuses not to believe in God. You've probably heard the expression "I believe in God, just not organized religion." I don’t think people would say that if the church truly lived like we are called to. The expression would change to "I can’t deny what the church does, but I don’t believe in their God." At least then they’d address their rejection of God rather than use the church as a scapegoat. 

Stuff to ponder.  

And stuff to live.

Seven Brides...or So

I love when stories collide.

I'm reading through the Old Testament again and made it to Judges 21. Strange story. But when I got to this verse:

"So that is what the Benjamites did. While the young women were dancing, each man caught one and carried her off to be his wife. Then they returned to their inheritance and rebuilt the towns and settled in them." (Judges 21:23).

It made me think of the "Sobbin' Women" song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, and the subsequent scene where the brothers sneak into town and pretty much capture their sweethearts. "Tell ya 'bout them sobbin' women who lived in the Roman days...."

What a hilarious mental picture to make the word come alive!

(And while it's not exactly the beginning most girls would imagine for their fairy tale of wedded bliss, I hope these young women went on to have happy stories, like their movie counterparts did.)

Gossip

I've Got a Secret - A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy person keeps a secret. Proverbs 11:13

One statement Liz made really jumped out to me: "Sadly, I fall in both camps: totally zip-lipped with the big stuff that truly matters, less careful with the small stuff that seems insignificant but really isn’t."

That hit a little close to home. 

I've had to play confidant and secret keeper quite a lot in my life.  I always take that position seriously and wouldn't dream of betraying that confidence. 

But how often to I misjudge the sensitivity of a small thing and betray a confidence without realizing the treasure of the information I was holding? 

Little stuff that's not little. Those little glimpses of deeper issues or vulnerabilities that we're not ready to lay bare, but we allow to peek through in interactions we have with people we think we can trust...with everything big and small.

I've been on the receiving side of that.  And it hurts.  It makes you feel small and exposed and wondering, "I wonder what else they say about me when I'm not around."

Today I'm challenged to keep an eye on my idle words, to abstain from whispered rumors, and to keep the secrets entrusted to my care.

Leviticus

Leviticus. Oh Leviticus! For many aspiring readers who want to read the Bible through from start to finish, Leviticus is the kiss of death. There’s just no way around it. It’s infamously boring. All those laws. Offerings and feasts. So many, and so repetitive! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve struggled through it, fighting the tendency for my eyes to glaze over and the words to morph into “blah blah blah blah blah.”

But I looked at Leviticus through a new lens, and suddenly this stale book came to life. (It might have helped that this time I was listening to an audio version, keeping my glaze-prone eyes from faltering.)

Leviticus was a book of law given to a people who for generations had known nothing but slavery. They weren’t treated as people. They were killed at a whim. They were worked to exhaustion. Their stuff could be confiscated or destroyed at the discretion of their slavers. They could be abused. And they had no way of standing up to injustices because they had no rights. They were simply slaves.

Suddenly, here’s a set of rules that affirms they have value. Their stuff has value. Their time has value. Their family structure has value. Wrongs have known and reasonable punishments.

What a world changer!

You mean I have a course of restitution if someone kills my cow? Yep. The miscreant has to make repayment.

You mean someone can’t just come in and take advantage of my wife? Nope. There’s a punishment for that.

You mean I don’t have to work day in and day out? That’s right. You get to have a regular day of rest, and holidays throughout the year. 

Line by line, Leviticus builds upon the framework of the Ten Commandments to show what is acceptable and unacceptable for a culture of people chosen to show the world what life looks like with God leading the way. This mass of refugees who have known nothing but slavery are given power to be people again.

A beautiful passage in Leviticus (Lev 19:9-10) talks about the “edges of the field” and basically tells people to look out for those in need.

What’s even more beautiful is that Leviticus gives instructions for how the Israelites should treat their own slaves. Unsurprisingly, it’s with dignity and fairness. It would be so easy for the Israelites to be angry and bitter about the injustice of their past, and pay it forward now that they’re free and in a place of power. Leviticus shows that God’s way is not like that. Someone may work for you, but that doesn’t give you the right to mistreat them. They’re still people. And they are valued.

That's the phrase that kept coming to mind: “You have value.”  A message that carries through the rest of the Bible and points straight to Jesus.

“But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1 (There’s a lot of redeeming in Leviticus)

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16 (A redemption worthy of God's son? That's quite valuable indeed.)

“You matter.” What a beautiful message to find in a boring book. (Sorry Leviticus. It's true.)

Leah

Every time I read this woman’s story, my heart goes out to her.  The whole Jacob-Leah-Rachel story is pretty wackadoo, but she really gets the short end of the stick.

The wedding night mixup is still bizarre to me when I read it.  Was Leah an active planner in this debacle or simply a pawn to her father’s plans? Laban was a pretty shady guy, and double-crossed Jacob on more than one occasion.  He was a swindler and an opportunist.    While she was obviously involved, the narrative doesn’t tell us how much of it was her idea or if she was a voluntary participant.  I suppose in the end, it doesn’t matter.

But the hits just keep coming for Leah.  Her husband is very vocal about not loving her or wanting her, but he seems happy to keep sleeping with her:  fulfilling her week and subsequently fathering six sons with her.  6!  Women of that day measured success by their ability to bear sons, but hers didn’t seem to raise her in her husband’s esteem at all.  How did that prey on her emotions?  Her identity?  Her self-image?  Plus, how tormenting was it to watch her husband labor seven years to marry another person? Her younger, prettier sister no less? How bad could she be?

This time when I read the story though, something jumped out to me.  The names of her sons, especially the first four:

Reuben.  According to the notes in my Bible, Reuben sounds like the Hebrew for he has seen my misery. “It is because the Lord has seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now.”  Genesis 29:32
Simeon.  One who hears. “Because the Lord heard that I am not loved, he gave me this one too.” Genesis 29:33
Levi.  Derived from the Hebrew for attached. “Now at last my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.” Genesis 29:34
Judah.  Derived from the Hebrew for praise. “This time I will praise the Lord.” Genesis 29:35

The names show both her pain and her faith, and it was the last two that really struck me.  She’s the mother of the tribe of priests and the tribe of kings.  And Jesus is described as the Lion of the tribe of Judah.  Leah’s not one of the famous five women called out in the genealogy of Christ (poor girl, overlooked again), but there she is.  Abraham, Isaac, Jacob+Leah.  Not Rachel.  Leah.

While Jacob only had room in his heart for Rachel, God had room in his for Leah.  That's a pretty wonderful thing.

I’m so thankful for a heavenly father who doesn't overlook.  He sees.  He hears.  He loves.  He gives. Abundantly.

Painted

Last Halloween, my sister asked me to braid her hair for her "dark elf warrior" costume.  Since I braid at the local renaissance festival, her request (though unique and elaborate) was well within my bag of tricks:   "Something like Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones, but bunned up, and with rope twists.  Oh, and with accents in the front to hide the seam for my elf ears."

Sure.  As long as we're keeping it simple.

But I knew she was looking ahead to a costume contest later that night, and I was happy to oblige.  After all, braiding is fun for me, and she has great hair for it.  I put my practiced fingers to the task and created a masterpiece.  And just as I placed the last touch and stepped back to admire the finished product, my sister said, "Ok.  Now you can paint it."

Huh?  I didn't see that coming.  But with great reservation, I did just that.

With each dab of paint, my beautiful braid lost some of its luster. The paint highlighted every stray hair.  Suddenly, an artsy, loose bun just looked messy and unkempt.  It was hard to get the paint into every nook and cranny made by the weave, so it started to look incomplete and unfinished.

At least to my eye.

She loved it.  In fact, she went on to win the costume contest that night.

And while I was happy for her, a part of me was sad that that was the version of the braid other people saw. Even though they thought it was awesome.

For some reason, it got me thinking about church and the gospel.  (Perhaps a little ironic on Halloween night, but there you go.) How hard to we try to dress up God's message when all we need is his truth?  Trying to make it cooler or more relevant or whatever?  Maybe my thoughts went that way because I tend to think in analogies, and no matter how strong or powerful an analogy is...there will always be holes.  And I've been in the church world long enough to see programs try to capitalize on different fads and trends in order to best win the attention and affection of their audience.

I wonder if his truth is like that braid.  If painting it up just makes it messy, or just diminishes the glory of what he originally had in mind?  Are we losing the depth of the message by painting it into a corner or costuming it up?

God with us.
It is finished.
Come to me and I will give you rest.

That's it.  Plain and simple.

I don't know if that makes sense. But it challenged me to just be God’s love in action and let the beautiful power of the Gospel speak for itself.

Mitsa Mar

I was 27 and battling a Jane Austen life-crisis. (Single, with no prospect of marriage, and about to officially become a burden on my parents.) However, the crisis was averted after a house hunting adventure uncovered this hidden gem that turned out to be perfect for my first place. As soon as I walked in the door, I knew. (So did my realtor. After looking at several other properties that day (all of them dismal), I bravely looked at him and declared, “I think I want to make an offer.” He replied, “Well…that’s good! Because as soon as we left the house I made a call to the office to get the paperwork started.”   “I just had a feeling,” he said.)

I miraculously went to closing just two weeks later, and after signing papers for the biggest commitment of my life…I promptly left the country for two weeks on holiday. The last stop of that trip was to visit a friend of mine who lives in Ireland. In the midst of catching up, I couldn’t help but mention my big news, and her first question to me was ,“What did you name it?”

Name what? I thought. My house? 

I’d never even thought of that. After all, not many houses in the US have names. But to her Irish sensibilities, all houses should have names. A la, Pemberly or Green Gables. Her childhood home had a wonderful name. Sadly, I can’t remember what it was, but the few times they had to relocate, they would christen their new home with it too.

So I sat down and pondered. What should I name my house? I thought about wanting to capture the idea of warmth and welcome and refuge I hoped my home would embody. I scoured my geeky knowledge to see if something from one of my favorite sagas would jump out at me.

And then it struck me: My house is my little piece of the world.  The tiny corner of the universe I get to call home. Being the Lord of the Rings fan I am (and wanting my house name to give a nod to the beautiful Celtic country where I was inspired to name it), I immediately went to see if I could translate “tiny corner” into Elvish. And voila. There it was. As soon as I spotted the words in Elvish, I knew I had a winner:

"Mitsa Mar."

Roughly translated it’s “small house,” and I love it. (Tolkien didn’t develop Elvish enough to have words for either “tiny” or “corner”, so I used mitsa which means “small” and mar which means “home, house, or dwelling.”)

My house *is* small. Very small by American standards. But it’s perfect for me. And in many ways, it seems bigger on the inside. I’ve had the great joy to host wonderful evenings full of friendship and laughter. I’ve had the honor to extend hospitality to those who needed a place to stay. I’ve grown to love the solace of having a place to call my own…a refuge to come home to after being off on adventures (sometimes halfway around the world).

Finding it was definitely a miracle. But I know I was meant to be the steward of this little place. My small house. My tiny corner of the universe.

Mitsa Mar.

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This post was inspired by Five Minute Friday and this week's word - "small"