Gospel Reflections

Beautiful Church

~ Ami ~ 3 Comments

all the reI like to sit in the second row. I want to be where the action is, up front, close and personal. I’d already taken the bread, dipped it into the cup, and returned to my seat.

Observing the familiar scene, I marveled anew at the radical beauty unfolding. The elements picture the broken body of Christ and His blood poured out for the sins of many.  A steady stream of humanity flowed down the aisle, person after person participating in the holy moment.

I’m in a building with a group of people who under most circumstances would never be friends, nonetheless, call themselves family. Something miraculous must have brought us together.

“It was couple months ago. And it smacked me in the face. I felt like I was hearing the truth for the first time. I don’t know, I guess the lights turned on. Pastor Jamie said, ‘You need Jesus to be your Savior. He died for you.’ And I thought, ‘For me? This is for me?’ Woah.”

This is how she described the miraculous.

I grin. Such a motley crew we are.

The sins of our pasts are ugly. Pride and anger. Pornography and lust. Adultery and drunkenness. The list goes on. Other sins are perhaps unknown. There’s a lot of failure represented here. There’s a lot of not being good enough. We’re not a wealthy, flashy bunch either. We’re not dressed in suits and ties. White collar and blue collar, professionals and factory workers converge to partake.

But I don’t see the sins or the failures. I don’t see folks struggling to make ends meet.I see a stunning bride, clothed in spotless white.

Joy explodes in my heart. “Oh Christ, this is your Church! And she is beautiful!”

“All the redeemed washed by His blood

Come and rejoice in His great love

O praise Him! Allelujah!

Christ has defeated every sin

Cast all your burdens now on Him

O praise Him! O praise Him!

Allelujah! Allelujah! Allelujah!”

(All Creatures of our God and King)

These, my friends—my family— are not defined by past sin and failure. They don’t have to be good enough. This is a bride made pure and clean. She radiates light, peace, and something altogether new.

Together we worship the One who ransomed us; no longer are we slaves. We are redeemed. In His death and resurrection, Jesus purchased salvation. His body was broken. His blood was shed. He took our ugly, wretched sins. Moreover, He became sin, that we would become righteous.

Let these words never fall on deaf ears! Let not the truth become mundane!

“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 1 Corinthians 5:21

This is His church. I can almost see the unearthly glow.

I sure do love this motley crew.

But how much more does Jesus love it! As a groom can’t contain his emotion when he glimpses his radiant bride, so does Christ rejoice. And how much more does the Father grin as if He beholds His newborn child!

Oh Christ, this is your Church! She is so beautiful.

_____________________________________________________________________

“While all our hearts and all our songs join to admire the feast, each of us cries, with thankful tongue, ‘Lord why was I a guest?” – Isaac Watts.

 

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For my sister, Builder of Bikes

~ Ami ~ 1 Comment

Daily Quotes

Surrounded by giant cardboard boxes, bike parts, and tools (of which we did not know all the names), I could sum up the situation in a few choice words—overwhelming, infuriating, and daunting. My sister stared at the instructions, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

But she took a deep breath, gathered her resolve, and set to work. Somewhat reluctantly, I followed suit. Building bikes is not for the faint of heart. We’re smart girls, but certain aspects left us completely bewildered, putting our ingenuity to the test. Some steps seemed to be left out of the directions altogether.

If a woman had written them, they’d be more more detailed. “Use pliers with cable cutting ability, or just use scissors.”

Trial and error. We had to disconnect and reconnect brake cables three times. We didn’t realize the handlebars were backwards. There may have been frustration involved.

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Visions of husbands deftly using wrenches and pliers with cable cutting ability danced across my mind.

We shouldn’t be building bikes.

Not because we weren’t capable in the end, but we shouldn’t have to.

I felt anger rise at the brother-in-law who left her, preferring adultery and divorce. I still want to punch him. She should not be a single mother. I watched her composure crack, tears streaming. Not many see a window into my beautiful sister’s vulnerability. But I saw.

“Sometimes I feel stuck, like I’m caught on a never ending cycle. Like God has held me to the fire far too long”

“Sometimes I feel abandoned.”

“I’ve tried to be a strong testimony of grace, of resting in God’s goodness. But sometimes I’m tired of trying.”

Yet it is with abundant grace she shepherds the hearts of her children, pays the bills, works, home schools, and shoulders all the household tasks. I think it’s easier to see grace from the outside looking in.

I had no eloquent words of wisdom. I just wanted to listen and share the sorrow with her.

Being a widow can be excruciatingly difficult, but I think my sister’s lot is harder. I want her to be cared for as I have been cared for. But sometimes, folks don’t always see those affected by divorce. They think it gets easier.

I want her family restored. I wish she didn’t have to walk this path, and I wish my niece and nephew didn’t know brokenness. I can’t fix the suffering. But I know the One who will.

So to my sister, Builder of Bikes, I want to tell you what I see.

I see the radiance of Christ in you through every soft word and patient conversation you have with your children. You live with consistency before them; God is working through you in more substantial ways than you know. You’ve given me an incredible example of parenting through suffering.

I see the sacrificial way you raise them, constantly pointing their hearts to Jesus.

You bravely face the hard things.

I see Christ reflected as you’ve struggled through deep emotions. By grace you have refused bitterness.

You’ve wept with me also, sharing grief, understanding things others cannot. And we’ve allowed each other to struggle with faith. Invaluable.

I see mercy and compassion for others. I see a daughter of the Most High, clothed in righteousness, being transformed exponentially in Christlikeness.

I believe God is doing good. And I believe He will give you beauty for ashes, not only in eternity, but in this life also. I pray for grace to surround you. I pray the love of God overwhelms you. I pray you will be guarded with peace.

I see your strength. But I want you to know you don’t always have to be strong.

You have a great High Priest who gets it. He knows your weaknesses. He carries, and He has promised never to leave you. I know it doesn’t always feel that way. I struggle sometimes also. So I need truth too.

But we can stand on this—God keeps His promises. 

He will not leave.  He will never be unfaithful.

“He will tend his flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs in his arms; He will carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.” (Isaiah 40:11)

It seems like you bear the weight of the world, but your Shepherd bears you. You are cherished, and you are loved.

He gently leads. “A bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not quench.” (Isaiah 42:3)

How patiently our Father teaches us to “ride our bikes.” When we fail to trust, still He’s there keeping us upright. And when we fall He cleans our scraped up knees.

And on the day we finally see Him face to face, we’ll know it was worth it! We’ll know for certain that He writes astonishing stories, exquisite in detail, lovely beyond comprehension, woven seamlessly into the story of stories. He’ll be resplendent in glory!

And we will also see total restoration. 

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18)

Christmas morning two children received their gifts with joy. With exuberance, they couldn’t wait to learn. So my sister, Builder of Bikes, set out to teach them to ride.

 

You are utterly enjoyable.

~ Ami ~ 5 Comments

You know every ugliness.-2
Stopping in my tracks, I reread the simple statement. And it whacked me in between the eyes like a two-by-four.

“The infinitely self-sufficient God has come not to be assisted, but to be enjoyed.” – John Piper. 

Enjoyed.

God doesn’t need my help. Jesus came to be enjoyed.

Questions formed. Do I enjoy God? Or do I merely enjoy His things?

How easy it is to love the marvelous gifts I receive from God—life, provision, protection, salvation, comfort, adoption, reconciliation, and on and on. It is good to enjoy God’s gifts. He is a Father who delights to give good things to His children.

But do I enjoy Him more than His gifts?

Had I merely enjoyed the things I received from my husband, I’d rightly be labeled a horrible wife.

But my relationship with Jon was much more than things. I enjoyed his goofy child-like enthusiasm and passionate pursuit of anything he set out to do. I cherished his quirks and all the things that made him distinctly Jon. I even came to love his “no writing in books” ban.

I adored evenings curled up on the couch together and the warmth of his hand folded around mine. He chose me and loved me despite my flaws. I appreciated his wisdom and discernment. And I savored how his smile could light up a room.

Oh how greatly I enjoyed him! Moreover, how great was our mutual enjoyment!

What about God? How quickly I forget. Often I relish His things more than I relish the Giver. I could rightly be called a horrible daughter.

Ever the writer, I set out to make a list.

“Lord remind me how I enjoy you.”

I enjoy your masterful artistry. The sky is a multifaceted painting, each day ushering a new design. You expertly blend varieties of blues, grays, pinks, and oranges. It’s stunning because you are stunning.

If I enjoy anything beautiful and good, it is because you enjoy it first. Gorgeous sunsets. Music. Laughter and singing. Love. Affection. Deep conversations.

All of these reflect your character.

I enjoy you in the quietness of a rainy day. For you are rest and peace.

I cherish our constant conversation, the ebbs and flows, the picking up right where we left off. Your words flood my heart in seasons of fear and doubt. You are trustworthy. You are comfort; scripture tells me truth when I cannot tell myself.

I love to tell you who you are. Sovereign protector. Redeemer. Provider. God you are holy, merciful, and just.—At the cross they collided harmoniously!

Sustainer. Satisfier. Exalted above all. Refuge. The list is exhaustive!

Furthermore, who I am flows directly from who you are. I know myself accurately only when I first know you. My identity is thoroughly wrapped up in your identity.

  • You adopt.
  • You guide.
  • You lead.
  • You cherish.
  • You secure.
  • You shelter.

Therefore, I am adopted, guided, led, cherished, secured, and sheltered.

I enjoy being thoroughly known and thoroughly loved. You know every single ugliness, even the ones I dare not let others see. Yet you stay. More than that, you enjoy me too! What an unfathomable thing, Lord!

You are the subject of every sentence, the main character of every story.

“He Himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.” Acts 17:25

“For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: ‘I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.” Isaiah 57:15

With vibrant clarity rings the truth about God.

O Lord I do enjoy you! You are utterly enjoyable.

Breakthrough. How Autism teaches me the Gospel.

~ Ami ~ 1 Comment

open gatesWeek after week the toddler fought me. Our hours together were punctuated with severe meltdowns. Kicking, screaming, biting, and hitting: these were the norms (his, of course). I left each session emotionally and physically drained, weighted by sadness.

This little boy could not comprehend that I wanted good things for him. Sometimes he fought in anger, but sometimes he fought because he couldn’t make sense of his world. There is a fine line between a meltdown and a tantrum; the line is often blurry.

A family member struggled to understand, “Why is he so stubborn? Why doesn’t he just stop?” 

But he can’t stop. He doesn’t know how to help himself.

A developmental disconnect akin to a shorted circuit makes typical situations overwhelming. Slight changes in routine seem monumental and devastating, the result of an extreme preoccupation with rigidity.

Trust is not a part of his natural repertoire.

Week after week I sought him, reinforcing expectations through repetition, implementing calming strategies, returning his anger with patience and compassion. I’m constantly aware of my need for grace.

My work as a developmental therapist puts me in complicated situations every day. I regularly work with children with Autism and a myriad of other developmental issues. A common thread runs through the early sessions.

They fight.

They don’t understand.

They run.

They have meltdowns. And tantrums.

They avoid.

They hit.

They bite.

One day, something marvelous occurred. Music calmed. He let me touch his hands. He signed “more” and “please.” In 60 minutes, there was one meltdown. As we read a book, he leaned his back against me. Trust. The lights turned on. Hallelujah! We celebrated like the angels in heaven must celebrate when one sees Jesus for the first time!

Breakthrough.

I walked to my car, sank down on the seat, and shut the door. A sigh escaped, “Finally.”  And I thought of Martin Luther—

“I felt as if I were entirely born again and had entered paradise itself through gates that had been flung open.”

After wrestling with ideas of righteousness and justification for many days, at last Martin Luther received glorious illumination, penning the now famous words—

I hated the righteous God who punishes sinners, and secretly, if not blasphemously, certainly murmuring greatly, I was angry with God, and said, “As if, indeed, it is not enough, that miserable sinners, eternally lost through original sin, are crushed by every kind of calamity by the law of the Decalogue, without having God add pain to pain by the gospel and also by the gospel threatening us with his righteousness and wrath!”

Thus I raged with a fierce and troubled conscience. Nevertheless, I beat importunately upon Paul at that place, most ardently desiring to know what St. Paul wanted.

At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the context of the words, namely, “In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.”’ There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is that by which the righteous lives by a gift of God, namely by faith. And this is the meaning: the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely, the passive righteousness with which merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, “He who through faith is righteous shall live.” Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. -Luther

Now before I go on, let me make something abundantly clear. I am not saying Autism is sin. But other parallels are unmistakable.

He fought.

He didn’t understand.

He ran.

He had meltdowns. And tantrums.

He was angry. He raged.

As a small child fought me, so do we fight. Without Christ we’re blinded, and our comprehension of glorious truth is short circuited.

We cannot understand that He wants good things for us; God seems like the enemy, the great punisher. When we’re honest, though, we recognize the heavy burden of attaining “righteousness.” And our failures seem to mock us, “It’s impossible. You’ll never measure up.”

We don’t know how to help ourselves. Moreover, we’re thoroughly incapable.

But how wide the gates of paradise fling open!

Righteousness is a gift—“the righteousness of God through faith in Christ for all who believe…and are justified by His grace as a gift through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 3)

As I pursued a toddler with patience and compassion, so does Jesus pursue me. And you. As we celebrated the small graces, so does your Savior celebrate!

But how quickly I forget. Once again glorious truth is short circuited. No, I don’t lose the gift of His righteousness, but I forget that He is for me! I fail to trust. Sometimes I throw tantrums. Sometimes I try to run away.

When I look at toddler throwing himself on the floor, kicking, screaming, and eventually succumbing to exhaustion, so clearly I see myself.

But God gathers me up, pursues my heart, and again restores me to glorious comprehension. Breakthrough.

I can rest in truth.  He is for me. 

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:31-32

Check out more posts about God’s character, God’s grace, and the Gospel:

 

 

The dream must shatter: Revisiting 2008.

~ Ami ~ Leave a comment

Remember “back in the day” when people used to post notes on Facebook? It was a precursor to or perhaps a weak competitor with the blogosphere, I think. My how social media has developed. Well, I came across something I wrote in January 2009. An eternity ago, I’m a little astonished I had such thoughts.

Reflecting on the last several years, some blend together in ebbs and flows barely able to be discerned. Year builds upon year. Challenges and trials fade. For example, 2005 was stable, fairly smooth, and without major valleys. It’s labeled by no remarkable events but by the stage in life- grad school. I file it away as a peaceful year that must be consciously meditated upon to recall specific details. 2008, however, is not likely to be one of those years. Or maybe it will be. Perhaps it’s just a matter of perspective that will change with time.

But for now it’s black and white, in a word, volatile. An honest statement, yet without malice, regret, or bitterness. On the contrary, my heart swells with thankfulness because I see God’s hand moving in distinct ways. Loss and brokenness are the catalysts to something greater.

Most of us don’t wish for sorrow. Rather, we want life to come wrapped neatly in a package with a shiny bow on top. We want everything to go according to the dream plan we have so thoroughly imagined (and in some cases worshiped) that it seems it will surely become reality.

But God who loves his children more deeply than we can fathom, wants us to cling to Him, to the cross–not the “plan.” And sometimes the dream plan must be shattered for us to see beyond ourselves. Loss and brokenness. They are words that often fill with dread and fear, but they are also words that have potential to represent life, love, beauty, repentance, and vision.”

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Not my Symphony

~ Ami ~ 7 Comments

lightning More breathtaking than fireworks, lightning exploded in the night sky. For miles around there was nothing but fields and lightning. Black filled with light; blazing paths and brilliant flashes of light sliced across rolling clouds. It wasn’t raining. But we were surrounded by God’s own melodic composition. I’d never seen anything quite like it. We drove in silence, mesmerized. Perfectly timed, a song began.

Our God is great. The Father of creation, His splendor fills the earth. The lightning crash. The thunder sings His praises. The galaxies can’t help but shout His worth. My soul must sing to You an offering. How great You are! My soul must sing, oh, let the heavens ring. How great You are! Oh, how great You are!”

An invisible drummer synced lightning and song. Percussion, strings, rhythm, tempo- all aligned in radical harmony with God’s creation. And the heavens burst with the glory of God! My struggling heart soaked it in, overwhelmed with God in His spectacular beauty.

On my mind had been thoughts of a family and the long wait. I’d been grappling with another month’s disappointment. Two red lines had not appeared. Not pregnant. “Ami I’m doing something bigger.” 

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Hate will not win.

~ Ami ~ Leave a comment

It’s bigger than racism. It’s bigger than hate.

No doubt racism is still a raging and important issue in our nation. As a middle-class white woman, no doubt I don’t fully understand it.

America’s most recent, devastating tragedy, a shooting spree in a church, underscores reality again. And my soul grieves with the families and friends whose loved ones died.

I’m thankful for the response of the Charleston community. I’m thankful riots haven’t broken out, but rather prayer. I say with these brothers and sisters-

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  (Galatians 3:28)  The gospel creates unity.

But the problem is bigger than racism alone. We live in a broken society, a world fractured by the sin that courses through every person. I need only lift my head to see shattered fragments all around: shootings, bombings, abuse, rape, racism, terrorism, war, corruption, scandals, adultery, identity crises, abortion…

In my lifetime alone, the list is exhaustive.  Gulf War. Oklahoma City Bombing. Columbine. 9/11. Sandy Hook Elementary School. And I will not neglect to look at my own brokenness. I see my own sin.

So we cry for peace and we cry for change!

As I watched the suspect’s bond video this morning, a message from the victims’ families resonated across the court room.

“I forgive you.” 

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

“We would like you to take this opportunity to repent. Repent. Confess. Give your life to the One who matters the most, Christ. So that He can change you. He can change your ways no matter what happened to you.”

“I admit I’m a work in progress. And I acknowledge that I am very angry… But we have no room for hate, so we have to forgive.”

Over and over families offered forgiveness. More powerfully, they pointed the man who destroyed their families to One who will restore everything. Issuing a clear call to repentance, they pleaded for this man’s soul.

Not explicitly stated, but certainly implied was an undercurrent that forgiveness was possible because they had been forgiven.

So here’s what I want to say.

In a world gone mad, Jesus is the only hope. He alone will make things right. He forgives because He paid the penalty for sin.  

Since God is holy, forgiveness couldn’t merely be a wave of the hand, a dismissal of penalty. Rather forgiveness cost something. Atonement was absolutely necessary.

Issuing forgiveness cost the Father His Son, and it cost the Son His life. The legal demands of sin no longer bind me because Jesus took them! The Great Substitute. On the cross He became sin so that we could be righteous.

These grieving families can forgive because they have been forgiven.  They have been forgiven because Jesus satisfied God’s righteous wrath.

How beautiful the response of these dear ones! Turn to Christ. Run to King Jesus, who will one day make all things right. Amid a pain that hurts “every fiber” of their bodies, they offered Jesus. Such grace.

Hate will not win.

Sin will not win.

Yes Lord. Refine Me Again.

~ Ami ~ 5 Comments

slaveryWhen I found myself sobbing on Mother’s Day, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Happy tears. Sad tears. Angry tears. An external processor to the core, it gets embarrassing sometimes.

But I laugh a lot too. So I suppose they balance out. A friend put it this way, “Ami, you just feel a lot on the outside.” Ok, I’ll take that.

Therefore, I should not have been blindsided. But I was.

A sucker punch straight to the gut, an imaginary referee counted down. These weren’t a few tears at the corners of my eyes, but shuddering waves, a flood impossible to stem.

I’ve been there before. Sure, I anticipate struggle on the major days, Christmas, anniversaries, birthdays, but Mother’s Day falls off the radar.

When I realize a “grief day” is coming, I actively prepare. I have learned to expect grace, to look for tangible manifestations of God’s compassionate care. And He faithfully turns dreaded days into peace, joy, and laughter.

The most difficult days, though, are the ones unexpected.

But the cause is not what you think. The sorrow wasn’t about motherhood and unmet dreams. Instead it had everything to do with a passage of Scripture.

Have you ever been deeply pierced by the Word?

For you, O God, have tried us as silver is tried, You brought us into the net; you laid a crushing burden on our backs, you let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water; yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance.” Psalm 66:10-12

The words leapt from the page, forever connected to a memory blazoned in startling clarity.

Only a week before he died, God and I talked about those words. I didn’t know death was at my door, but I sensed a season of suffering.

“Ok, we can face the wind and the rain together.”

Peace dispelled the fear that day. God would walk with us through the fire and water. We were precious in His sight. (Isaiah 43) I expected us to come through the fiery trial together. I thought abundance meant a return to the delightful circumstances of my choosing.

But I had to change my definition of abundant.

A 27 month journey to date, from one side of the valley of death to the other, now I call abundant something different.

Abundant is being rescued from the wrath of God by the blood of the Son of God. Abundant is a slave turned radiant bride.

Abundant is not determined by my physical circumstances.

“How wealthy is the place of every believer, and how doubly does he feel it to be so in contrast with his former slavery; what songs shall suffice to set forth our joy and gratitude for such a glorious deliverance and such a bountiful heritage. More awaits us. The depth of our grief bears no proportion to the height of our bliss.” – Charles Spurgeon.

So, confronted anew with Psalm 66, it compelled me once more to wrestle its heavy truth.

“…tried us as silver is tried…” Must I continued to be tried?

Though my flesh shouts, “No more refining,” my souls whispers, “Yes, Lord. Refine me, and refine me again. For you are worthy of pure worship.

A whisper, a wisp of flame, kindles again a blazing flame. “Yes Lord!”

“You have brought us out to a place of abundance.”

Do I still believe this?

Yes, Lord.

Jesus is the abundant place.

Crushed dreams, a broken house. But let the house be rebuilt on the solid rock whose name is Jesus! I hold dreams loosely. God is the designer of my expectations.

Often I’ve asked “Isn’t it enough God? Must I be refined further still?”

But I am not called to be “just enough” sanctified. God deserves the most precious, costly silver, the rarest vintage of wine, the most brilliant diamond.

yes Lord

Refine me, and refine me again.

Sobbing turned to praise, as entirety of the Psalm slid into view.

Shout for joy to God!

Sing the glory of His name!

Give to Him glorious praise!

Say to God, ‘How awesome are your deeds!’

So great is your power that your enemies come cringing to you.

All the earth worships you!

And sings praises to you; they sing praises to your name.
Come and see what God has done….

Bless our God, O peoples; let the sound of His praise be heard, who has kept our soul among the living! …

Come and hear all you who fear God, and I will tell you what he has done for my soul! …

But truly God has listened; He has attended to the voice of my prayer.

Blessed be God because He has not rejected my prayer or removed His steadfast love from me!” – Psalm 66

I don’t want “just enough” of God. I want all of Him. And He wants all of me. And I will shout, “Come and see what God has done for my soul!’

He makes me rest in His abundance. He showers me with good things. He remains steadfast in his love. He refines, and His visage radiates ever clearer from my life.

Even the knockout, sucker punch days are beautiful. Even a grief day can be the catalyst for greater depth. And tears for me are a door to illumined truth.

Then make me what you will, Lord. Refine me, and refine me again.

This post by Ami appeared first at Intentional By Grace

 

Mine.

~ Ami ~ 3 Comments

Live for the Audience of One.

I remember the injunction clearly, and pondered what it meant for me, a teenager and new believer. I knew salvation was by grace alone, through faith in Christ alone. I understood my need, responded to His relentless pursuit, and experienced His saving power. I saw radical transformation, wildfire growth if you will. And I wanted to follow Christ with all my soul.

“I am no longer who I once was,” my heart rejoiced!

But many things about this thing called the “Christian Life” were still fuzzy. Audience of One?

“Well that must mean ‘to live for God’s approval alone.’ I suppose God is more pleased with me when I don’t do certain things, but do other things. If He’s the audience then I must perform, right?”

And so, I tumbled into the trap of performance. Do this. Don’t do this.

My failures crushed me. “Didn’t read my Bible every day this week. Epic fail. God must love me less.”

I may never have said the words aloud, but if I was honest, I thought they were true. I knew I’d been saved by grace, but I lived like I still had to earn it.

I’d love to tell my teenage self some things. I suppose I had to learn them over the passage of time, but if I could, I’d save her years of guilt ridden, faulty belief.

The Audience of One already approves.

Have you forgotten who He is?

As a father grins at his lisping child, stumbling through one line in the Kindergarten play, so does the Audience of One beam. Everyone else sees a gymnasium, but a father sees Carnegie Hall.

The father approves, not for the merit of the performance, but because he looks and says, “Mine.”

I’d say to my teenage self, “Christ justified you. By His blood you are declared innocent. He took your sin, and put it on Himself. Not only that, He gave you His righteousness.”

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Romans 5:1

“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 in the heavenly places in Christ.” Ephesians 2:4-7

Justified.

Just as if I’ve never sinned.

Just as if I’ve always obeyed.

Negative infinity to zero.

Zero to positive infinity.

He approves. On my best days and worst days, God loves me just the same. He looks at me and sees His Son.

Therefore, to live for the Audience of One, isn’t performance. 

It is worship, the delight that flows from all Jesus accomplished on my behalf.

The Audience rejoices, not on my merit, but because I belong to Him. My lines may be lisped, my song sung with cracking voice, but He looks and says, “Mine!”

Only one was an audience, the Audience of One. The smile of the King’s approval swept through the choir like fire across dry wheat fields. When the song was complete, the Audience of One  stood and raised His great arms, then clapped His scarred hands together in thunderous applause shaking the ground and sky, jarring every corner of the cosmos. His applause went on and on unstopping and unstoppable.” -Randy Alcorn

 

Ordinary? Extraordinary.

~ Ami ~ 3 Comments

special

“I’ll have the Ordinary Special.”

“Do you want blue skies with that?”

“Yes please.”

“Ok, that’ll be one Ordinary Special coming right up. Runny noses, nap time songs, making dinner, a kiss when the husband comes home, an argument, extra reconciliation snuggles, and a side of blue skies.”

“Yep, that’ll do it. I’ll have it my way.”

Wouldn’t it be great if we could order our days from a menu, consciously choosing what seems most desirable? An ordinary day? An extraordinary day?

I’d pick an entirely different ordinary than the one I have now- I wake up, stumble downstairs for coffee, work, write, spend time with friends, watch TV, go to bed by myself.

I would certainly pick an ordinary that included another husband and with him, children. I’d gladly take the exhaustion, the nighttime feedings, and the tantrums, for the joy of loving and being loved.

Other people’s ordinaries seem much better than my own, so I’d choose what I think I need to be happy.

But I want extraordinary also. How about I order that as well? I want to slay dragons and move mountains. I want God to do something BIG in and through me. I want the gospel to explode in hearts and the kingdom proclaimed.

God, I could do so much more. The task you’ve given seems so small.

“I want to write for multitudes and speak at conferences. Move over Nancy Leigh DeMoss!” says the silly, proud, dreamer with a hint of tongue and cheek.

How fickle am I, however, for often I cry “God don’t you think you’ve asked too much? Don’t you know I’m scared?”

To pick my own ordinary, or my own extraordinary seems like it’d be a sweet deal then. Right?

What is the ordinary you’d pick? The extraordinary?

It’s probably a good thing I can’t order life from a menu,though. Knowing human nature, I’d still say, “I wish I’d ordered what she’s having.”

And if I’m honest, a different ordinary wouldn’t thoroughly satisfy either. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.

Moreover, there’s a more glaring issue: choosing life like items on a menu presupposes I don’t need God, that I’m in control of my destiny. I’m not fooled, though. I’ve lived long enough to know that’s the oldest lie in the book.

I need God. He alone fully satisfies.

What if I realized that my ordinary is precisely, uniquely, and intimately guided by God? What if I knew– I mean really KNEW –that God is sovereign, trustworthy, and infinitely loving?

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” Psalm 32:8

“The steps of a man are established by the Lord when he delights in his way, though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand.” Psalm 37:23-24

What if I knew that ordinary is really extraordinary?

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” John 10:10-11

“Jesus calls his followers, not to a dour, lifeless, miserable existence that squashes human potential, but to a rich, full, joyful life, one overflowing with meaningful activities under the personal favor and blessing of God and in continual fellowship with his people.” (ESV Study Bible Notes)

abundant

Extraordinary Ordinary? Why, that might change everything.

Tim Keller put it this way.

“If Jesus became incarnate to live among the ordinary, what we call ordinary must be pretty special to God.”

God cares about all the ordinary details. He created them. He redeems them. God dwelt in them, so that He could be a High Priest who knows our weaknesses. They remind us that He provides.

Jesus seemed ridiculously ordinary. Ordinary looks. Ordinary stature. Ordinary occupation. The son of Mary and Joseph, apprenticed as a carpenter, went to Torah school and had a bar mitzvah.

But wrapped in ordinary humanity, was something inestimably extraordinary. God became flesh. “I will come to you. And I will die for you.” That’s the most radical thing I’ve ever heard! He gives life, abundant life. He gives extraordinary purpose to ordinary days.

So I stop, I marvel at flower blossoms and budding trees. I give thanks for dishes to wash and laundry to fold. When I think about my ordinary life, and even the not so ordinary parts, I remember it’s incredible to get to serve, to lead, to point others to Jesus.

Clay, wine, trees, fields, bread, fish: all ordinary things used by Jesus in marvelous ways. Jesus operates in the ordinary, but the results are extravagant. I suppose then, He uses my ordinary as well.

I’m the recipient of extraordinary grace.

I have received the extraordinary Gospel. And that is no ordinary thing.

This post by Ami appeared first at Intentional By Grace