What Saturday's Stillness Says

 

 "...But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment." Luke 23:56b

       By nature I am a talker. Silence makes me uncomfortable. How can I know what you are thinking if you aren't speaking? How can you know what I am thinking if I'm not speaking? Anyone who has ever spent any great amount of time with me doesn't have to worry about that. I won't be quiet for long. 

    But there are times when even I do not speak. It doesn't happen often, although as I mature it seems to be increasing in frequency. I think perhaps it is a sign of wisdom. I am least prone to speak when I am angry-it is not a good sign if I stop talking in the middle of a fight. But I have also learned to limit my words when someone is grieving. I have begun to see that there are no words that I have that can make that right. At those times people usually just want someone to be with them, not offer empty platitudes or trite phrases of consolation. They don't need the sound of my voice, just to know they are not alone is enough. 

  "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:8

    Today is Good Friday. Sunday is Easter. Saturday is...silence?  We tremble before the power of the crucifixion. We rejoice at the power of the Resurrection. But what power does Saturday hold?

I like to think it holds the power of silence.

Sometimes when God doesn't seem to be saying anything He is speaking the loudest. Sometimes He is sitting with us in our grief. That verse is from the Old Testament. Well in advance of Jesus' death God had promised to be with His people. Jesus time in the tomb did not undo that promise. 

"For the word of the LORD is right and true; He is faithful in all He does." Psalm 33:4

What happens in silence? We start to listen. We wait. We think of what we already know. When God does not seem to be moving we should start paying the closest of attention. There are times we have strayed from His immediate presence, to be sure. But I have found that in times of grief and loss, confusion and pain, we feel like God is not moving. And perhaps it is because He is sitting with us in our grief.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18 

   I cannot speak for those waiting women. But Scripture speaks for them. Look at it again:

 "...But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment." Luke 23:56b

The emphasis is mine, but every word of Scripture is true. In the dozens of English translations that word is rendered "rested" except in one (Darby) that says "remained quiet." 

    What do rest and grief have in common? How can you be at peace in times of greatest loss? How can you remain quiet when your heart is wailing with fear and loss? Was there any greater loss than that of Jesus? How could these women rest? How could they remain quiet?

"There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God's rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from His." Hebrews 4:9-10 

"When He had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, He bowed His head and gave up His spirit." John 19:30 

We can rest when our work is done. And our work is done for us because we could never do it ourselves. We can remain quiet in the stillness of grief, knowing that we don't have to fight anymore. The battle is won. God didn't have to speak in the stillness of Saturday, the Word had already been spoken. All that remained was to believe. 

   And that is how we can rest in the stillness of whatever Saturday we may be currently going through. The end has already been written and it is glorious. The Word has already spoken and He is victorious. We can live on Saturday like it is already Sunday. We can walk in the same faith knowing He is risen even while He seems to be very silent, as still as the grave. 

"The angel said to the women, 'Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; He has risen just as He said. Come and see the place where He lay." Matthew 28:5-6

  He has already spoken. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. (John 1:14) He is with us, He is for us, He has given us rest. So if this "Saturday" seems so silent you feel like you are going crazy, remember that rest is possible. If those women could have enough faith in the promises of God to rest while Jesus was in the tomb, you can find rest in Him here. He is using the silence to speak and it is saying:

"For no matter how many promises God has made, they are 'Yes' in Christ. And so through Him the 'Amen' is spoken by us to the glory of God." 2 Corinthians 1:20 

 

Easter in Exile

 (I must confess that the idea  of "exile" was borrowed from Russell Moore who is using it as part of his series, "Reading in Exile".)

     "The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to her appointed feasts. All her gateways are desolate, her priests groan, her maidens grieve, and she is in bitter anguish."

Lamentations 1:4

"My sins have been bound into a yoke, by His hands they were woven together. They have come upon my neck and the Lord has sapped my strength. He has handed me over to those I cannot withstand. " Lamentations 1:14 

   When one thinks of Easter the book of Lamentations isn't usually the first one to come to mind. Any of the Gospels, if you want to go further afield perhaps another book of the New Testament. Really far out? Maybe throw in some Isaiah or Psalms. But I keep turning current events over and over in my mind. I am frustrated, I am confused, I am angry. Everything familiar seem ripped away by circumstances beyond my control. I feel thrown into a foreign land, one I don't have skills to navigate, one where convention and tradition have been tossed to the side like so much extra baggage on the Oregon Trail, abandoned with no hope of returning to it.

    It might seem melodramatic to some, but go with me- to have freedoms taken, however small, and replaced with fear and lack of certainty always moves one to grief. To be haunted by death and illness should be saddening. We mourn the past, not the least because we knew what it held. And there are definitely those who know that feeling.

"Joy is gone from our hearts. Our dancing has turned to mourning." Lamentations 5:15

  This is not normal, and we should not treat it as such. We should be sorrowful for the way that sin has wreaked havoc through disease and fear over the entire world.

"The hearts of the people cry out to the Lord. O wall of the Daughter of Zion, let your tears flow like a river day and night; give yourself no relief, your eyes no rest." Lamentations 2:18 

   The exile of the people of Israel is one of the most gut-wrenching events in the Old Testament. The promised land was no longer theirs-not only had they been overrun by the enemy they were wrenched from their towns and homes and thrown into a foreign land. They wanted to blame the Assyrians, the Babylonians,  the Egyptians, anyone but themselves. They found themselves alone, far from everything they knew.

And they weren't coming back. Normal would never be normal again.

And it was all their fault.

"Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord. Let us lift up our hearts and our hands to God in heaven and say: We have sinned and rebelled..." Lamentations 3:40-41a

   For decades, through Daniel and Esther, through Jeremiah and Lamentations, the people of Israel were foreigners in a foreign land. Birthdays, anniversaries, births, weddings, and even deaths happening all the while. And the feasts, the ones we slog through in Leviticus but that defined the seasons of their lives, kept occurring: the Feast of Tabernacles, the Feast of Weeks. Passover.

    I can't begin to fathom the pain and irony of even considering observing a feast that was a celebration of release from exile. While in exile. Passover, the time they were redeemed from their oppressors. Celebrating, remembering, while in the grip of new captors.  Painting doorways with blood to signal release. Baking bread meant for a journey of freedom. While locked in a cell of their own design.

Passover...

"He [Jesus] replied, 'Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house." Matthew 26:18

Passover...

This is My body given for you...

This cup is the covenant in My blood  which is poured out for you...

Passover means Easter to us.

    This year it may feel like we are in exile, separated, forced to let go of long-cherished familiar traditions. We may feel robbed and frustrated. But more so than ever before, let us celebrate Easter as one in exile.

One waiting for the coming King.

One covered by the Blood.

One knowing that this is NOT our home.

One knowing that all His promises are true,

One knowing that this will end and then we will really be Home.

One clinging to faith when the world is unfriendly and uncertain.

One who continues to look with hope, true hope, when it all seems hopeless.

"Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail, they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him. The LORD is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him." Lamentations 3:23-25

    We underestimate the faith of those who turned and repented in exile. They looked for Jesus. They looked for over 400 years. We live in the realization that Christ has come, but we, too, should be looking for Him to come again. There were those who continued to celebrate the release they had experienced, as we experience new life in Christ here on earth, but as they looked with expectancy to a better, fuller freedom, so do we. This world is not our home, but trusting fully that in Christ every promise of God is, "Yes!" Exile is always meant to teach us something. Don't let this be any different.

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country-a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them....These were all commended for their faith yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect." Hebrews 11:13-16 & 39-40

Better things are yet to come but we can still celebrate, for even in exile, HE IS RISEN.

The More Things Change

(This is a five minute blog post.)

  ...the more they stay the same. Except it doesn't really seem like that at all does it? Lately, more than ever, it seems like I finally get something "figured out". And then that ugly "c" word rears its head. And we are all up in the air again.
 
   I. Don't. Like. Change. I am creature of habit, a lover of routine. I like the familiarity of continuity. But here is the cruddy, but oh-so-essential, lesson spring teaches us: growth absolutely requires change. A seed that stays a seed is useless. We actually call it dead. Because that is what it is. To live is to change.

   And so while in the immature part of my heart I don't like it, I recognize its absolutely vitality to the human condition. If I am growing, I am changing. If I am changing, I am living. Seasons come and go, no two ever alike. Days go by, each containing similar elements but always different ones, too. Some good, some bad, some uncomfortable, some exciting, all part of the process.

   This time of year is hard, perhaps because so many endings are so boldly proclaimed: graduations are a big 'ol celebration of over-ness. You're done, moving on. Changing, hopefully for the better, but you are literally not allowed to stay where you were. Kids are shedding grades like butterflies come out of their chrysalises, not fully fledged but ready for the next thing. Weddings, too, signal a big fat end: say goodbye to singleness, for better or worse. Programs are ending all over the place, shelved for the summer, and next year won't be quite the same.

   I think these may seem like New Year's musings, but truly, if January is for beginnings, this time of year is for endings. But that's okay, because I only need one thing in my life to stay the same.

"Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever." Hebrews 13:8

And I have to recognize: if I want to be more like Him, many more things will have to change then stay the same. So here is to bittersweet endings. And to growth, even with the change it brings. 

To Gideyon, That Time You Asked the Tough Question

Dear Gideyon,

                  Do you remember this summer, when we were driving back from Michigan, and I was belting out that song on the radio? You might not, because it probably wasn't that big of deal to you-and you are probably wondering why, four months later, I am finally answering that question you asked. Well, because I have been mulling my answer over all that time, trying to find the right words, because I feel like tough questions deserve well-thought out answers. 

    So, the song came on the radio: "Bulletproof", by Citizen Way. I exclaimed, "I love this song! It's one of my favorites right now." And I started singing along (because, of course, I know every word.) And the refrain goes:

"I--------I don't have to fear no more,
worry no more,
And I--------I don't have to fear no more,
worry no more."

And you said, "Why is it adults always say things they don't believe in?".

Ugh. Nobody likes questions like that. But that absolutely does not mean you should not ask them. Actually, oftentimes those are the very questions you must ask to really get to the bottom of things.

   Now, at the time, I did not give you the brush-off. I said something, although it was phrased very poorly, and sounded kind of trite. The kind of answer I hate to give, much less get. No one likes a fake who does not know what they are talking about.

   But, as I have chewed on this question, for months now, I have finally come up with what I think is an acceptable answer:

Because we *want* to believe them.

   With my whole heart (ignoring the double negatives) I want to believe that I don't have to fear anymore, or worry anymore. This is the twist, though: I *know* it is true-I don't have to worry or fear anymore. But often I stand in my own way, and I don't live like that. I talk about having enough money to pay for bills, or what will happen if yet another war starts, or how I would fall apart if someone I loved died. So I don't live that way.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life..." 

Matthew 6:25 NIV

   But I sing those words at the top of my lungs because I serve a God who isn't changed in the slightest by my inconsistency. Who longs to comfort me when I am worried, and promises me that I do not have to fear.

"This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus.There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:17-18 NIV

  Because I want to believe them, sometimes desperately, I have to say them to myself, over and over. I sing the same songs, again and again, I quote the verses, repeating them endlessly, praying that the repetition will move them from my head to my heart. I cling to what I know is true, even when I am not strong enough to believe it, to live it out.

    Because my lack of action in no way dilutes or diminishes the truth of that statement. Fortunately, my belief, or lack thereof, does not at all affect the truthfulness of the Truth.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever." Hebrews 13:8 NIV 

  I first learned that verse in Spanish class, in high school. For the longest time, I had to say it in Spanish to remember how to say it in English. But it didn't matter what language I said it in, it was still the same. It didn't matter whether I said it twenty years ago (Eek! I'm so old!) or if I say it today. It doesn't matter whether I believe it or not. He doesn't rely on me to be who He is. He is the same, no matter who I am.
   
    So, instead of wanting Him to be more like me, because no one likes someone flighty, someone who can never make up their mind, someone who is one way one day, and different the next, I choose to focus on trying to become more like Him. Some days I do better than others. Some days, I allow the words I sing to change me, to help me see that I can be more like He is.

    And some days, I just sing them because I know them, and I want to remember them, because on those days I just can't seem to get it together. And I try to remember what Paul says here:

"“My grace is enough for you: for where there is weakness, my power is shown the more completely.” Therefore, I have cheerfully made up my mind to be proud of my weaknesses, because they mean a deeper experience of the power of Christ. I can even enjoy weaknesses, suffering, privations, persecutions and difficulties for Christ’s sake. For my very weakness makes me strong in Him." 

2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (Phillips)

     He reminds me that He can be strong enough to overcome my unbelief, strong enough to help me live out what I believe. Strong enough that when I worry, He isn't scared, that He can show me in that what it truly means to fully trust Him.

   So know this: I don't ever want you to think I'm the "do as I say, not as I do" kind of adult. No one likes a two-face (except maybe the Joker...). I want to be able to have honest, open conversations. I want you to listen to me, not just because I am an adult, but because I love you and you feel like I not only believe these things, but I work hard to live them out. I will never be perfect this side of heaven. I want you to know that those things I keep saying to myself aren't true because I say them, but because He does.

   You can ask the hard questions, because He is strong enough to answer them, and because when you do, you remind me that my faith is more than just reading my Bible for a few minutes every day and going to church on Sunday. It is my moment-by-moment choices, and people are watching. I'm a little further along this thing called life, and I want to be able to help you all I can. Because I love you so much, I think you're awesome, and I know God has amazing plans for you. I pray constantly that He will help me to live in a way that shows you more of Him. And always feel free to help me do, not just say, the things I know to be true. Because I know, but I *want* to believe, too.

I love you. I hope you're never afraid to ask me the tough questions. I promise to listen.

                                                                                                        Love,
                                                                                                          Aunt Clare

Why in the World Am I Doing This?

So, I have a whole series of posts on the wedding and other trip things planned, and then I realized last night that I can't find my camera cord. Posting those posts without photos would be like having a s'more without a marshmallow-kind of icky. I had already planned to start blogging more frequently (even since the beginning of the year, my goal has been to blog at least once a week) and since I came home I was planning on blogging every night, even if I didn't hit publish.

But when I realized my camera cord was MIA, I started to feel sorry for myself. Why do I post anyway? Basically, the only people reading this are my aunt, my sisters and sometimes my mom. And they pretty much lived through all the wedding craziness with me. So they probably don't need an extended play-by-play.

As a matter of fact, why do I blog at all? I have been at this for almost *five* years (Next month is my anniversary, just in case you wanted to send a gift!) and I have precious little to show for it. Yes, I have a record of many of our little family's memories, which is wonderful. But I could have put together photo books for that and not displayed it like I thought it was so important that the whole world wanted to see it.

And my little spiritual musings, well, let's be honest. I'm no Beth Moore, or Ann Voskamp! And then I bizarrely mix that up with craft projects, and bizarre ramblings of other kinds and you kind of have a mess. That, I suppose, is why I named this "Clare's Contemplations"-it's basically your view into the utter disaster that is my mind.

Which leads me back to where I started. Why in the world am I wasting my time on this at all? I have looked at way too many blogs that have only been around for a year (or less!) that have literally thousands of more readers than I do. I know I don't follow the "rules"-I don't post often enough, I don't comment enough, I haven't submitted any guest posts, I don't link to enough parties. So, I really don't have anyone to blame but myself.

But, you see, I keep praying about this whole blogging thing. I think, "I will plunge in wholeheartedly and do a million linky parties, and pin faithfully, and write up a guest post and post more often and comment on at least "X" number of blogs." And I feel the Spirit say, "Wait". And then I think, that's okay, I will just close up shop and put all this childish foolishness behind me. And again, I feel the Spirit say, "Wait".

And I don't understand why. I'm not doing any good am I? Not that I can see.

 ^"Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction;

whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life.

 Let us not become weary in doing good,

for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Therefore, as we have opportunity,

let us do good to all people,

especially to those who belong to the family of believers."

Galatians 6:8-10

 

See, I read this blog this morning. And I also read this:

 

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,

 let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,

fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

For the joy set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame,

and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners,

so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

 Hebrews 12:1-3 

 

I'm doing this because I can't *not* do it. Because even though it embarasses me, and frustrates me, confuses me and confounds me, I'm just called to do it. And I don't get to see where the seeds I have sown have fallen. Because it keeps me humble and refines my faith, and causes me to focus on Who I am really doing this for.

 

Like being a wife.

Like being a mother.

Like being a homeschooler.

Like being a friend.

Like giving my widow's mite.

Like being a believer.

 

And so, on those days when I am feeling especially low, I go to the One who never wearies of me, no matter how pitiful I am. The One who sees past the bad grammar, and run-on sentences, the menial grasping at words to try to explain how the Word and the Spirit are at work in my life into what is truly going on: a continual perfecting of the good work He started in me. And I will keep planting seeds, even if I never see the fruit. I will keep chugging along, until I am given the freedom to stop. And that may be tomorrow, next year, or at the end of my life. Until then, I will continue to consider Him and not lost heart.