When after all of this

When after all of this we finally stand

Upon a crystal sea that's paved with blood,

How will we wonder that Your faithful hand

Did not release us to the hungry flood

Of wrath we churned and churned with our own sin?

When we are saved upon that final day,

Knowing You are all it's ever been,

And knowing we've been carried this whole way

By One who wears a rainbow on His head,

Though sin should claim us as its very own,

When You return or we're at long last dead

And as Your sheep acknowledged, loved, and known,

How special it will be for us to see

Each beat of Your great heart was bent toward mercy.

My feelings are not true

My feelings are not true,

But Christ is God's true Word,

And over all the howls of sin

And lies let this strong voice be heard:

My wickedness won't win,

Though sin crouch at my door,

Though satan and my heart agree,

It's those like me whom He died for.

And even though sin clouds my view,

Here at the cross my eyes can see

Atonement has been made by You

Who ever shelters me.

More Thoughts on Seeing God

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; 

for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

to give knowledge of salvation to his people 

in the forgiveness of their sins,

because of the tender mercy of our God, 

whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:76-79)

      

     One thing I love about winter is the coruscating frost in the warm morning light like God's very own glitter. It is good of Him to give us light when days are short and cloudy. I love how the frost covers everything on the ground, little plants and dead things too, and how joyously the light dances through the cold wetness, like the glistening, merry eyes of someone laughing. And in December mornings as I drive to church with sparkles in my eyes, I think of Christ, our Sunrise, who brings the forgiveness of our sins and light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

      How do we write about or even think about these things? God reveals Himself in nature, but according to Romans 1 it is His eternal power and divine nature that we see. We don't open our front doors or wander out in fields and receive specific messages from God. The final word of God is Christ, a light whom the darkness can't overcome (John 1:5). In the Scriptures, God has spoken with finality of the forgiveness of sins in Christ. Yet I don't think it's wrong to see the beauty of God in creation not just abstractly but symbolically, viewing the creation as shadows of true things He has already revealed in the gospel in His Word. God Himself uses creation metaphorically all throughout the Bible to make the realities of our sin and salvation in Christ more clear to us. Yet beauties we see now in creation are not direct messages or even purposeful symbols at that moment from God Himself. We can see reminders of the gospel in them, but they are not signs from God.

      I guess it is easy for us to, on social media and through creative outlets, but also just through our daily lives, use creation and even our own selves as demonstrations of sorts without ending with Christ, the One we're supposedly pointing toward. The whole point of figurative language is to take what we can see and use it to see what we can't see as well. We even devalue metaphors when we get hung up on the symbols or shadows themselves. Again, I have to wonder, if we are trying to see Christ and point others to Christ, how is that done?

      Ultimately, we cannot see Christ unless it is in connection with the law and the gospel. This is how God reveals His Son, who is the precious goal and object of our sight. This means that when we spend all of our energies thinking of His provision of good things, like food or farmland or family, without turning our eyes to our need before Him as sinners and His greatest provision of true food and true drink – Christ's body and blood – we are not honoring Him as we should. Perhaps we are even turning our hearts and the hearts of others to idols instead of the true God and Savior. Should we put so much focus on living our lives before believers and unbelievers as though our lives were some great portrayal of Christ, or should we focus on pushing others to Christ through the law and gospel? Showing Christ through the law and gospel doesn't really have to do with having cute houses or bringing the best beer to the party. In fact, our nice families and moral, supposedly happy lives are not how we are to point others to Christ. Our morality (though we may fail greatly, we will still fight against sin, bear fruit, and do good works) is not what attracts others to Christ. It may convict them as they see their lack of holiness under the law, and this conviction can drive them to Christ, but when we are pointing others to ourselves and our lives as the end goal, we are offering them false saviors and helping them to hope in themselves and earthly things instead of Christ.

      Christ is the Word of God. The gospel is presented to us in words. Words are so important in sharing the truth, much more important than our lives lived out before others. This is comforting for me, because I do a poor job loving others and pointing them to Christ as an example. I am far too unlike Him. But I can use words and say that I am sinful. I can go to Christ and be loved by Him in front of others. I can receive forgiveness and grace from Him in front of others and serve others as a result of that mercy. I can exhort others to turn to Him when they have need and sin. Our God is so powerful. He will receive glory in His people even in our sin, because He will still be there to save us. And it will be so sweet to stand in heaven with so many other justified and even glorified sinners who sin no more and see that He carried us the whole way and that His mercy was so expansive, enough for so many people.

      I want to learn more and more how to use words like God uses them, how He uses metaphors and figurative language to point us to Christ, and how Christ is God's final word. Christ is our end, whom we see through the law and gospel laid out in Scripture. If earthly things can help us understand these things more clearly, they are valuable for us to use, just as God Himself uses them. And it is beautiful to me, more beautiful than the earthly blessings God gives, that He loves us and shows us mercy even when we abuse these blessings and focus on them instead of Him. It's beautiful that when we live the glory story and point others to ourselves, Christ stands able to save us and others. We would wrap ourselves in shadows, but our Father sent Christ, the sun who rises with healing in His wings, to bear away our sins.

Artists of the Cross

For a month, the world has been trembling with color, the sky has been swirling with chiaroscuro, and I have been thinking about art. I've been singing with My Epic:

I can't sing that song the same way anymore
'cause I start laughing at the parts where I could only weep before
And it sounds sweeter now because the notes can't ring
until they echo through each wasted year that You restored to me

I've been thinking of how You wept for Lazarus
Tears on Your cheeks, resurrection on Your lips
Sometimes mercy can feel like abandonment
But You know all about it

I used to think I had to write these songs just so
For heavens sake and for my own I put myself through hell
But I quit striving for perfection surrendered up to it instead
And now the songs keep pouring out and I cannot contain myself

I've been thinking of how You wept for Lazarus.
Tears on Your cheeks, resurrection on Your lips
(Broken will)
Sometimes mercy feels just like abandonment
(Find your rest / Broken voice)
You let my heart die, but left Yours beating in my chest
(You sing best)

At 30,000 feet above, the earth was small enough to think of everyone I love
And then imagine them a thousand mirrors all reflect it back at once
and any light would multiply and then remind me
that Your love is more than the sum (“Lazarus”)

It seems like we create the most beautiful art, or at least the truest art, when we are caught up in something outside of the art itself. Writers seem to glorify narcissism sometimes. It seems like we give a lot of energy to contemplating our art, what it is, how to improve it. This isn't a bad thing, but I often find in myself a focus on creating instead of on my motivation for creating. I think this perfectionism is the result of what Luther called a theology of glory. I am trying to control my own success (defined by my own standards instead of God's) instead of trying to show Christ. How does one show Christ, in art or in anything? It seems like everything we touch we ruin. On this side of heaven then, how do we reflect Him?

For a Christian, a theology of glory is disturbing and the complete opposite of what He wants for us. We show Christ best when we decrease and He increases. This means our most beautiful and true art will be the art created at the mercy seat of God, covered in the blood of Christ. This means we as Christians and artists must admit our deep need and sinfulness, but this doesn't mean we glorify sin or wear our brokenness as a badge of honor. Our Beloved died for this. It does mean that we lose ourselves in Christ. For unbelievers, art seems centered on self-discovery and self-expression. For believers, though, art is displaying the beauty of another. The notes that ring the sweetest are the ones that echo through our years of sin and His grace in its face. When we surrender to this, to all we are not and yet to all He is, is when we create best. Broken voice, you sing best, and in the end is Christ. We are mirrors, and He is the light shining in us. At least on this side of heaven, I think we show Him best by being loved by Him. We are artists of the cross.

I can imagine Jesus, shadows and light playing some sort of rubato all over His face, with tears in His eyes and resurrection on His lips. Just as leaves are the most radiant when they are dying, we see His beauty at the cross. We reflect His beauty best when we embrace the cross, not even of suffering for Him, but of agreeing with Him that we are sinful and helpless, but that His cross is enough to save us. And let us not forget that there is sunlight and there is spring.

Annie, Ann, and Seeing God

      I spent a night at the beach a few weeks ago and lay out on a rooftop deck watching the stars breathe out and in. They twinkle with a sort of a heartbeat, a pulse. I tried to spot constellations, but stars are dizzying. As I focused on one star at a time, I wondered if they moved or if I just imagined such dancing. Shivering a little under my blanket, I felt lonely in the quietness, vastness, and other-ness of the sky. I wonder how many stars there are that we just cannot see. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1). His hand is over the still and steady sparkle of the stars.

       He has created so much good, like wild beach heather, whispering dune grass, warm cappuccino waves, swirled blue skies, and sun that “comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy” (Psalm 19:5). But waves crash unpredictably, and I can't see the end of the sea. Its “waters roar and foam” and “the mountains tremble at its swelling” (Psalm 46:3). I've been thinking a lot lately of how the natural world fits into our continual seeing of God. Nature is a precious tool, and God uses it throughout Scripture to point us to Himself. At the same time, there is so much that general revelation can't say. Even being out in nature, we can feel excluded, and general revelation makes no promises and gives no assurances. Creation is big and beautiful, but it does not welcome us into the dance (Lewis 40).

      We can't know that God is on our side from bare creation. In A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard poignantly paints the unpredictability of nature and our separation from its Creator. Throughout the whole book, she tries to make sense of the death and seemingly senseless pain in the natural world, even in relation to small things, like insects, and she tries to reconcile this pain with the life and seemingly senseless beauty found in these same things. She questions the reader and puts God in the dock, wondering if He is duping us. “Or is beauty itself an intricately fashioned lure, the cruelest hoax of all? […] Could it be that if I climbed the dome of heaven and scrabbled and clutched at the beautiful cloth till I loaded my fists with a wrinkle to pull, that the mask would rip away to reveal a toothless old ugly, eyes glazed with delight?” (255). She watches Tinker Creek, “waters of beauty and mystery,” which are also “waters of separation: they purify, acrid and laving, and they cut me off” (256). She writes of the Biblical waters of separation, the cleansing rites of the priests, purifying the people so that they might draw near to God. “This special water purifies. A man – any man – dips a sprig of hyssop into the vessel and sprinkles – merely sprinkles! - the water upon the unclean, 'upon him that touched a bone, or one slain, or one dead.' So. But I never signed up for this role. The bone touched me” (256). Here Dillard reveals what all men know. We cannot draw near to God on our own; we must be purified. At the same time, she questions God for the brokenness and accursedness of this world, because she refuses to admit her sin. Creation is cursed and its Creator is against us because we have sinned. Just so, we have all touched the bone.

      In the face of a Creator God who is outside of us, who is glorious and just, Dillard must lie to herself for comfort. (“If I am a maple key falling, at least I can twirl” (257).) She is absolutely right that the “universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest,” yet there is no assurance for us in creation or in our sinful selves that this earnestly beautiful God is for us (259). “Shadow Creek” cannot comfort sinners (260).

      More than shadows, we have Jesus Christ and the Word of God. His incarnation, death, and resurrection speak of nearness to our Creator, peace for His enemies. General revelation can show us a glorious God exists, but it cannot bring us near to Him; such knowledge only condemns us. Though creation can speak of a glorious Creator, it alone excludes sinners from Him, because He is far more glorious and perfect than we are. So I am so glad that He has given us His gospel, a clear message of the cleansing blood of Christ that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel (Hebrews 12:24). Contrary to Dillard's waters, this blood of sprinkling does not separate us from God, but through it Christ secures our “eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God” (Hebrews 9:12-14). “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that He opened for us through the curtain, that is, through His flesh, and since we have a great high priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water” (10:19-22).

       Following in the footsteps of Dillard, Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts, writes of many spiritual experiences she received through nature and the world around her, like traveling to Paris to “make love to God” (Voskamp 201).* From the excerpts I have read of her book and the pieces I have read on her blog, I've found a lack of Christ and clear cut gospel (particularly discussion of sin, not imperfection or weakness or piles of dirty dishes or overdue library books, but downright sin and the forgiveness of it). While I don't mean to review Voskamp's work, I find this type of thinking dangerous and infected with lies. God's blessings cannot provide the comfort and joy for us that Christ, our Savior, does. As the enemy works to blind us to the light of the glory of the gospel of Christ (2 Corinthians 4:4), I think it is sad that we seek communion with Him more in shadows instead of the substance of His Word and gospel. It is not that shadows are bad, but it is that shadows are not where we see Him best. With only shadows, we are outcasts. It is at the cross that we find peace with Him, and it is there that we see His glory shining the brightest. Living in a cursed world with so much sin around us and dealing day by day with indwelling sin, we need these starry sights of Him in the gospel.

      Because of Christ and His cross, I can enjoy glimpses of a Creator who is both transcendent and immanent. The stars dizzy me, but they twinkle like the heartbeat my loving Father put within my chest. I think God wants Christians to see His lavish, almost wasteful, beauty in His creation and be reminded not just that He is beautiful, but that He is for us. I think He wants us to see all things in connection with the grace He has lavished upon us as He has revealed the truth of His gospel to us (Ephesians 1:7-10). “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea” (Psalm 46:1-2). Beauty smiles, and it is to welcome us. He has marked us and engraved our names in the palms of His hands (Lewis 40, Isaiah 49:16). Our greatest communion with God is not through creation or His gifts to us but through the Word, sacraments, and prayer as He reminds us of the gospel. We are loved by and love God at the foot of the cross as He freely blesses us with faith in His Son. We see Him best on this side of heaven not in shadows, but in seeing our sin forgiven and His arms open wide to welcome us because of not our work, but Christ's.

Dillard, Annie. Three by Annie Dillard. New York: Harper Perennial, 1991.

Lewis, C.S. The Weight of Glory. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2001.

Voskamp, Ann. One Thousand Gifts. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2010. *I accessed this quote through a detailed review by Bob DeWaay on this site - http://www.cicministry.org/commentary/issue120.htm. I haven't read the book personally, but from this review and others, along with reading some of her material myself on her blog, I think my explanation of her ideas is accurate. For a helpful review, see http://www.fightingforthefaith.com/2014/01/mystical-estrogen.html

When Beauty Swallows

i stir a pot of orange and cloves
boiling rapidly up on the stove,
a steady, anxious heartbeat.
while spices dissolve, wet warmth rises to meet
the air as dry as my cold and cracked elbows.
a Rose unfurls in a vase on the window, 
and as winter melts in surrender to Spring
May i wither into You.

"I Am Who I Am"

You are holy.
You are happy.
You are God.
You are wise.
You are strong.
You are just.
You are jealous.
You are righteous.
You are gracious.
God. Gracious.
You are clean.
You are pure.
You're...beautiful.
You are sure.
You're...beautiful.
You are good.
God. Good.
You are lavish.
You are Love.
You are All.
You are for me.
You are worthy.
You are true.
You are You
And mine.
Shine. Eclipse.
Drown me in this.

Zephaniah and an Unexpected Song

     We grow up performing, and we want to be safe and shameless. Though we don't trust Him or seek Him, we, like tired virgins, lie to ourselves, ignoring the judgment we know we deserve, the judgment that is coming upon all men (3:1-2, 1:12). Because of the very nature of performance, a fake, outward layer of “goodness” keeps us from the joy of being fully known and totally loved. He weeps and wants us to come close to Him, but so often we reject an offer so precious. His jealousy burns and will bring a just holocaust, a fiery jealousy and flaming wrath that will consume the whole earth (1:17-18, 2:1-2). Like self-righteous Judah, we may think we'll escape His wrath and that our false hopes will give us good, but such people will stand with the Pharisees, estranged and outside of His sacred camp forever, unclean.

      Our idols cannot save us. He will “famish all the gods of the earth” and they will bow before Him (2:11). Will those whom He will famish satiate our hunger? In a delusive security, we have shamelessly exulted in ourselves and the gods we have made and said in our hearts, “I am, and there is no one else.” How dare I. How dare you. How dare we.

      The I Am who is Everything will not let us mock Him with a crown of thorns forever. He will pour out His indignation, all His burning anger, and consume the whole earth in the fire of His jealousy (3:8).

      And then He will sing, over me, over you, over us. He will save, drawing the lame to Himself, humbling the “proudly exultant ones,” and putting a song of joy in the souls of the needy, for while we were still sinners Christ died for us (3:11-20, Rom. 5:8). What we truly need is safety from His wrath and whole nearness to Him. Sinners who come to Christ are safe, secure, cared for, known and unashamed. The LORD, the I Am, takes away all of the judgment against us by placing it on the back of His precious Son, and in Jesus our Hope is secure. So much more than our defeated gods, our Jesus can save and He does save. He is with us, knowing yet loving, knowing and loving, singing an unexpected song of pleasure in His children. His voice must be so strong and so tender, so fierce and so pure, so full and so golden. In open Calvaried arms of immovable love, we are quiet and at peace. His "heart is a song that our Jesus sings."*

*from Showbread's "Sing Me to Sleep"

Quote: Precious Communion

"No happiness that all the glory of this world could produce is equal to that of a broken heart at the feet of Jesus. It is sweet to creep into the very bosom of Christ, while we feel how utterly worthless and unworthy, yet how welcome, we are." 

"I think, if I had ten thousand hearts, I would give them all to Jesus!"

From Walking with Jesus by Mary Winslow (italics mine)

Quote: The Rent Veil

The broken body and shed blood of the Lord had at length opened the sinner's way into the holiest. And these were the tokens not merely of grace, but of righteousness. That rending was no act either of mere power or of mere grace. Righteousness had done it. Righteousness had rolled away the stone. Righteousness had burst the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron. It was a righteous removal of the barrier; it was a righteous entrance that had been secured for the unrighteous; it was a righteous welcome for the chief of sinners that was now proclaimed.

Long had the blood of bulls and goats striven to rend the veil, but in vain. Long had they knocked at the awful gate, demanding entrance for the sinner; long had they striven to quench the flaming sword, and unclasp the fiery belt that girdled paradise; long had they demanded entrance for the sinner, but in vain. But now the better blood has come; it knocks but once, and the gate flies open; it but once touches the sword of fire, and it is quenched. Not a moment is lost. The fulness of the time has come. God delays not, but unbars the door at once. He throws open His mercy-seat to the sinner, and makes haste to receive the banished one; more glad even than the wanderer himself that the distance, and the exclusion, and the terror are at an end for ever.

O wondrous power of the cross of Christ! To exalt the low, and to abase the high; to cast down and to build up; to unlink and to link; to save and to destroy; to kill and to make alive; to shut out and to let in; to curse and to bless. O wondrous virtue of the saving cross, which saves in crucifying, and crucifies in saving! For four thousand years has paradise been closed, but Thou hast opened it. For ages and generations the presence of God has been denied to the sinner, but Thou hast given entrance,-- and that not timid, and uncertain, and costly, and hazardous; but bold, and blessed, and safe, and free. [...]

"May I then draw near as I am, in virtue of the efficacy of the sprinkled blood?" Most certainly. In what other way or character do you propose to come? And may I be bold at once? Most certainly. For if not at once, then when and how? Let boldness come when it may, it will come to you from the sight of the blood upon the floor and mercy-seat, and from nothing else. It is bold coming that honours the blood. It is bold coming that glorifies the love of God and the grace of His throne. "Come boldly!" this is the message to the sinner. Come boldly now! Come in the full assurance of faith, not supposing it possible that that God who has provided such a mercy-seat can do anything but welcome you; that such a mercy-seat can be anything to you but the place of pardon, or that the gospel out of which every sinner that has believed it has extracted peace, can contain anything but peace to you.

The rent veil is liberty of access. Will you linger still? The sprinkled blood is boldness,-- boldness for the sinner, for any sinner, for every sinner. Will you still hesitate, tampering and dallying with uncertainty and doubt, and an evil conscience? Oh, take that blood for what it is and gives, and go in. Take that rent veil for what it indicates, and go in. This only will make you a peaceful, happy, holy man. This only will enable you to work for God on earth, unfettered and unburdened; all over joyful, all over loving, and all over free. This will make your religion not that of one who has everything yet to settle between himself and God, and whose labours, and duties, and devotions are all undergone for the purpose of working out that momentous adjustment before life shall close, but the religion of one who, having at the very outset, and simply in believing, settled every question between himself and God over the blood of the Lamb, is serving the blessed One who has loved him and bought him, with all the undivided energy of his liberated and happy soul.

For every sinner, without exception, that veil has a voice, that blood a voice, that mercy-seat a voice. They say, "Come in." They say, "Be reconciled to God." They say, "Draw near." They say, "Seek the Lord while He may be found." To the wandering prodigal, the lover of pleasure, the drinker of earth's maddening cup, the dreamer of earth's vain dreams,--they say, there is bread enough in your Father's house, and love enough in your Father's heart, and to spare,--return, return. To each banished child of Adam, exiles from the paradise which their first father lost, these symbols, with united voice, proclaim the extinction of the fiery sword, the re- opening of the long-barred gate, with a free and abundant re-entrance, or rather, entrance into a more glorious paradise, a paradise that was never lost.*

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that He opened for us through the curtain, that is, through His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.**

*From Horatius Bonar's The Rent Veil
**Hebrews 10:19-23, ESV

Quote: The Cross Once Seen

    "Hear the just law- the judgment of the skies!
He that hates the truth shall be the dupe of lies:
And he that will be cheated to the last,
Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast.
But if the wanderer his mistake discern,
Judge his own ways, and sigh for a return,
Bewildered once, must he bewail his loss
For ever and for ever?  No- the cross! 
[...]
There and there only is the power to save.
There no delusive hope invites despair;
No mockery meets you, no deception there.
The spells and charms that blinded you before
All vanish there and fascinate no more.
    I am no preacher, let this hint suffice-
The cross once seen is death to every vice"

From "The Progress of Error" by William Cowper

A Sketch of a Woman, Guilty and at Peace

    The lurid eyes of death always a picture in my mind, I felt a burning weight upon my chest, felt as though I were drowning, panicking, suffocating, and there was none to help, none to help.  Over and over again, I turned the pages of my life, searching frenziedly, reading between the lines even, for a reason as to why I was so cursed.  Was I not cursed?  Is that not what they would all say?  Perhaps this is why I felt so deserted; I expected no one to help me now.  Sinners did not merit care, and, without anyone to care for me, I knew that was how the town viewed me.  And in the deepest parts of me I knew. My fiery guilt is true, as real as the cold, stagnant body of my son.
    My dear, only son’s body was hoisted upon the bier and carried by a few men through the town for the procession.  The wailing of the crowd, considerable in size, was intense enough to give anyone nightmares.  Perhaps the women considered their own sons.  To add to the torture was the haunting memory of another funeral procession which seemed not very long ago in my mind, and I wailed.  More grieved than any, my wails stood alone.  Shock had not comforted me much, so at least I had a chance to express the ache already in my heart, released many a times since the day before in a groan here, a sob there.  The hours of worry released themselves also in my howls.  Where would I find food?  Shelter?  How long could I make it on our last loaf of bread?  My last loaf of bread.
    As we reached the gate to carry him out, from the head of the crowd I spotted another crowd coming toward us, a great crowd, and did not take much note of them.  However, for some reason, the other crowd stopped- I believe because their leader stopped- and the head of it looked at me, His face flushed from His journey, unattractive, beside the zest of life in His eyes, eyes that rested on me.  Turning my sallow face toward him, my eyes- I’m sure of stinging, pathetic, wild grief- met His eyes, compassion welling up in them, passionate compassion, almost fierce, that lively sparkle in His eye- or His look or whatever it was- ever present.  I note this all only looking back; when I first saw Him, I cannot I noted anything at all inhumane about this man. 
    Then He spoke.  “Do not weep."  His voice…it was excited, tense, gentle, magnanimous in its feeling, as if compassion spewed irresistibly the words from the depths of Him.  Queerly, then he walked up toward the bier, the men holding it standing still, and touched it. “Young man, I say to you, arise,” He said, confidence in His voice.  The Prince of Life collides with Death and Sin and wins. 
    My dead boy sat up and began to speak!  And the man gave him to me.  Relief swept over me like a refreshing sea breeze at noon, but wonder, fear, seized me even more, along with the rest of the crowd.  “A great prophet has arisen among us!”  “God has visited His people!”  God has visited His people, and peace has visited the earth among those with whom He is pleased.*  In a moment of desperate need, when all is lost for me and to me, He comes, merely passing by my town in His journey, with no reason to stop here but compassion, unasked for by me or any other as far as I know, unnecessary on His part, Life and Mercy dripping from Him, meeting me, guilty and helpless me, drawing near to me with Joy in His wake.  And peace flows like a river through my sin-scorched veins.**

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.***

*Luke 2:14, ESV
**Isaiah 66:12, ESV
***Romans 5:1, ESV

Dialogue and story from Luke 7:11-17

A Sketch of a Woman, Sinful and Forgiven

    The moment I heard that Jesus was dining with a certain Pharisee at his home, I hastened to Him.  My feelings ordered me to halt, Experience on their side; Reason continually pointed out to me the foolishness of my way, but neither could she stop me.  I set my jaw and forced myself to move.  I forced myself, but do not think, reader, that I was not compelled to go.  Paradoxically, I forced myself, while a confident belief forced me.  I had seen this Jesus before, and somehow, from that vision of Him, I knew. 
    My heart flew wildly like a caged bird, paced like a caged, passionate tigress, as I made my way through the city to the Pharisee's home, cradling gingerly my flask of ointment, by far the most valuable thing I had, perhaps more valuable than myself in many eyes, myself who was cheapened so by my sin, but still I wish I had more to give to Him.  Mind you, my goal was not to pay Him back for what He had done for me.  A beloved one is honored; the more costly the gift, the more value it attributes to the receiver.  Oh, how much more He deserved!  May He receive His reward.  My heart was empty when I first saw Him, all need, with so much I needed to give, so much Justice compelled me to give, so much I could not give, my heart only a black hole of sin.  His eyes pierced the pit of my heart with hatred, well-earned.  “Go to hell!  Away from me!”  The idea of His repulsion burned my soul, as did the realization that I merited it.  I caused the breach, not Him.  Oh, no, not Him.  The sin ran so deep in me, as if it were the blood running through my veins, pumping in my heart.  But now…I knew.  I would be welcome.
    It did not take me long to reach the Pharisee’s home.  Uninvited, I went in, clutching my flask, weeping.  I dared not stand before Him, not because I couldn’t; perhaps it was the very fact that He would let someone like me before Him that caused me to stay behind, at His feet.  Awe made me tremble as my tears fell- oh dirty tears!- onto His feet, beautiful feet.  I wiped them tenderly with my hair, trembling still that I was so close to Him.  I had to go further; He demanded more honor, though He said not a word.  I had to kiss Him, His feet, over and over again.  Then I poured the alabaster oil all over His feet, rubbing it in, stopping here and there for another kiss, to wipe another tear, the wetness of all three mixing together.  “I love you,” I said wordlessly in every tear, every kiss, every stroke of my hand along his oily feet.  I had purposed to go beyond customary attributions of worth.  I must have tears and hair instead of water and a towel, kisses on His feet, as though He were a King, alabaster ointment instead of common oil.
    To himself, Simon, the owner of the house, said, “If this man were a prophet, He would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching Him, for she is a sinner.”  I did not look up.
    For the first time, Jesus spoke.  “Simon, I have something to say to you.”
    “Say it, Teacher.”
    Throughout their exchange, I could not look up.  I kissed, and kissed, and kissed.  “A certain moneylender had two debtors.  One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.  When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both.  Now which of them will love him more?”
    “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.”
    “You have judged rightly.”  Jesus turned to me; I felt His welcoming eyes upon me.  “Do you see this woman?  I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet.  You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven-”
    I know! my heart cried in confident, astonished joy.  Many sins, forgiven.  Oh, now He did not see the blackness in my veins, but beauty, purity, goodness, righteousness, all His own. 
    “-for she loved much.  But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”  The one who is forgiven much loves much.
    At last I ceased my kisses, an occasional tear still rolling down.  He said to me, “Your sins are forgiven.”  I looked at Him steadily.  His lips confirmed what I had known all along.  And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.*  How you forgive such a nothing as me, Jesus!
    Those who were at the table with Simon and Jesus began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?”
    I suspect Jesus knew their words, and, affirming His power and being dear to me, said, “Your faith has saved you;  go in peace.”  Peace for my tumultuous soul.  Peace with God, forgiven all the wrong I’ve done Him.  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. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us…**
   
*Colossians 2:13-14, ESV
**Romans 8:1-4, ESV

Dialogue and story from Luke 7:36-50, ESV

Look Up

Dear Believer,
This is a land of hungry, roving eyes. It is so easy to lock in on things that are so much less than Jesus, to lock in on a “worldly” life or a “righteous” life. There is a clean, warm sky above, but perhaps each time you sin, you find yourself gazing more deeply into the mud, greedy for idolatrous mud and muddied righteousness. It is so easy, perhaps, to look even too much to how you are looking at Him! But if and when you look up from your sin, you will find that He is still here. And He still saves even those who are so messed up that they can’t even look to Him rightly. You will find that the cross still stands and His blood still covers you. You will find His eyes waiting for you, even searching (and He finds) for you, full of love and warm welcome. You will find eyes that say:
“…where sin increased, grace abounded all the more…” (Romans 5:20)
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning…” (Lamentations 3:22-23)
“I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)
“Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” (John 6:37)
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” (John 10:27-28)
And you won’t be able to take your eyes away.

Rose: A Sonnet

His skin was thin, discolored green, with pikes-
The beast that dwelt within the castle’s bars.
The white old man was withered, shaking like
A brittle prisoner of a bitter dark.

The prisoner flapped his arms and begged. The beast,
With prickles piercing through his serpent cheeks,
With greedy eyes, a child before sweets,
Revealed unto his prey his thorny teeth.

A girl, her face with passion blossomed red,
Grew up the stairs to plead her father free.
Her voice was like a sword. The beauty bled
With love, though both at first refused her plea.

She cut him with a gaze of living green;
The beast the beauty conquered and made clean.

An Introduction

Hi, and welcome to this little blog! I hope you find a beautiful place here. The whole Christian life is very much a life of seeing beauty. In the gospel, God reveals and invites us into the most beautiful Beauty imaginable- Himself. There are a lot of blogs out there, even a lot of blogs about “beauty,” beauty in every day life, food, family, fashion, projects, the arts. Many of these sites point, not only to the beauty in this world, but the “beauty” of you, humanity’s “beauty.” But He is so much more than these things, and He is shown so little in this world.

Even on Christian websites and blogs, even those sites with wise words, I fear we miss out sometimes on that which will bring us the most joy- a simple sight of Christ. In Christian circles, we do a lot of focusing on ourselves. How can I be better at this or that? Sometimes our motives are sheer self-righteousness, other times perhaps a desire to honor Christ. It’s not wrong to seek wisdom and growth, but these things don’t come through five helpful tips on how to be Proverbs 31 woman or how to reach out to our communities. See, we are not so beautiful as we think, but there’s a lot of “freedom in failure”* and a lot of life in being helpless. What if we are totally needy and entirely ugly in our sin, but offered a complete salvation and an infinite love in Christ? Now that is beauty. It’s arresting beauty. He is Beauty, that He would live and die for wicked sinners who hate Him so that He might justly bring them to Himself, justly and fully welcome them into His presence in which there is fullness of joy.* Seeing Jesus in this way changes us and makes us live as fiercely His.* 

So, in all things here, be it a poem or theological thoughts, I hope what you read here will help point you to the beauty of Christ in the gospel. There will be no perfection, just a weak girl needing Jesus and receiving His grace. Hope you will join.

*Quote from Brave Saint Saturn’s “Recall”
*Psalm 16:11
*2 Corinthians 3:18-4:6