It's a new normal

Tornadoes--actually the effects therein--are very distracting. Everything I attempt to do/accomplish is colored by the niggling thought in the back of my mind: A tornado. A tornado ripped right through downtown. A tornado.. I can't concentrate, hence this kind of stream-of-consciousness thinking that has marked these blog posts about the tornado.

I forget that other's lives aren't as affected. I read blogs, twitter updates, facebook statuses, all covering topics from purses to shoes to a good hair day to the critical need for a pedicure to some other fabulous tidbit of useless information that drives the social media of our culture (no criticism just an observation) and sometimes I can't help but think to myself: IT WAS A TORNADO! A TORNADO! DEVASTATION! LOSS! GRIEF! COME BROOD WITH ME! STOP THE INANITY ALREADY!

Is inanity a word?

I don't resent or begrudge anyone's inanity, not really. I am probably a little envious of it. The inane has no relevance when one drives through a stretch of road that is unrecognizable--the same stretch of road one drove three or four times a day before the storm, yet the damage is so extensive that one cannot get her bearings. It's all changed. It's a new normal.

I attended a series of meetings last night in regard to the new normal we are facing as a school system. Three of our five school populations must be housed off site. The logistics entailing such a plan are daunting, to say the least. In that crowded church auditorium, standing room only, I was struck both by a sense of pride in my community and, again, over and over again, a sense of gratitude that the losses we sustained while extensive (did you see those pictures?), are of the kind that can be fixed. No one died. The Lord was merciful to us.

Before and after the meeting, as parents chatted and greeted one other, I could hear snippets of conversations: Any damage your way? Got power yet? Been down East Main Street? Need anything? Our vocabulary has changed, now including words like catastrophe and curfew. This tragedy, as most tragedies do, has marked us as a community. Last night the principal of our high school told us about a group of students from our rival high school (bitter, bitter rival) that not only worked with clean up at our school but raised money that they would like to be used for any senior with an outstanding balance on their account. Stories like that abound.

In my thanksgiving post yesterday, I neglected to mention one other element of this experience that has moved me to gratitude: the prayers and support you my internet friends have given through your comments here, your emails, your twitter DM's, your text messages--all mean more to me than you can know. See, all is not inane in the social media world! :-) Continue to pray for us, for those who lost so much, for those doing clean up, for our teachers and school administrators, for recovery both physical and spiritual. Pray for those of us who are believers, that we would hold out the word of life as we proclaim the good news of the hope we have in Christ!

Thankfulness on Thursday: Beauty from Ashes

I have so much to be grateful for that I scarcely know where to begin. For these, and so much more, I am thankful...

I am so grateful for the Lord's mercy that spared us any loss of life in Saturday's tornado.

I'm thankful for the many, many volunteers giving of their time, their chainsaws, and the strength of their backs to help those who suffered damage.

I'm grateful for the local businesses doing what they can to serve our community, businesses like Domino's that delivered free pizzas to volunteers and victims both, businesses like the local Powerhouse Gym allowing football players to come work out for free. These are just a couple of examples; there are so many others helping out in so many ways.

My son played in the first round of the state soccer playoffs Tuesday. It was an out of town game and I'm thankful for those fans from the opposing team who stopped to ask about us and allowed us to tell our story. I'm glad for the pre game prayer that beseeched God on our behalf via loudspeaker.

I am thankful for the compassionate and strong leadership exhibited by our school superintendent. I am glad for school administrators and educators working together to develop a plan to serve the students of our city despite the very worst of conditions.

I am thankful as well for our other city officials: the mayor, police chief, fire chief and others doing what is necessary to keep us safe and maintain some semblance of normalcy.

I am grateful for the many stories of survival and service. I thank God for the spirit of unity that reaches across previous dividing lines and for the resiliency embraced by my fellow citizens.

Yesterday, as we looked out over the span of the damage caused by the tornado, shocked and humbled by the devastation, someone remarked to me that we have seen only a fraction of the Lord's power. Indeed. It boggles the mind. However, we have seen His mercy multiplied many times over. He is good. He is gracious. His steadfast love never ends. To God be the glory!

Devastation

Click here to see more photos of the damage wrought by the tornado that ripped through my town.

Praying as I prepare for Bible study

We will meet for Bible study in an hour. I am woefully ill-prepared, understandably distracted by all the events of the week, not so understandably behind in my preparation given that we ended up not meeting last week. So, this morning as I study cram, I find comfort and conviction in the following prayer from The Valley of Vision. As weird as it may seem, typing it becomes its own kind of offering:

O GOD OF TRUTH,
I thank thee for the holy Scriptures,
their precepts, promises, directions, light.

In them may I learn more of Christ,
be enabled to retain his truth
and have grace to follow it.

Help me to life up the gates of my soul that he may come in
and show me himself when I search the Scriptures,
for I have no lines to fathom its depths,
no wings to soar to its heights.

By his aid may I be enabled to explore all its truths,
love them with all my heart,
embrace them with all my power,
engraft them into my life.

Bless to my soul all grains of truth garnered from they Word;
may they take deep root,
be refreshed by heavenly dew,
be ripened by heavenly rays,
be harvested to my joy and thy praise.

Help me to gain profit by what I read,
a treasure beyond all treasure,
a fountain which can replenish my dry heart,
its waters flowing through me as a perennial river
on-drawn by thy Holy Spirit.

Enable me to distil from its pages
faithful prayer that grasps the arm of thy omnipotence,
achieves wonders,
obtains blessings, and
draws down streams of mercy.

From it show me how my words have often been
unfaithful to thee,
injurious to my fellow-men,
empty of grace,
full of folly,
dishonouring to my calling.

Then write thy own words upon my heart and inscribe them on my lips;
So shall all glory be to thee in my reading of thy Word!

May the Lord bless our study of His Word this morning!

On tornadoes and such

It was a EF3 tornado. Its path was 18 miles long, 3/4 mile wide, accompanied by 140 mile an hour winds. You can read more about it here. I am glad for the internet (and for the electricity that powers it). One of the benefits (detriments?) of living in a small town is a lack of continuously streaming information. In those first several hours, once our power was restored, I was glued to the computer, searching out every bit of information, every horrifying picture I could find.

We rode through some of the damaged areas Sunday night. People always say that aftermath of storms like ours looks like a war zone. It does indeed. Thanks to the wonder that is Facebook, I'd seen pictures. A two dimensional shot, no matter how striking, doesn't begin to do justice to the reality of the devastation. One of our city councilmen made the statement that the landscape of our town has changed forever. It has. And not just physically.

My husband and I are not from here. We're transplants, having moved here almost fourteen years ago. Yet we grieve. This may not be our hometown but it is our home. We weren't born here but here we have lived. And as such riding through the devastation brought tears to our eyes.

There was no loss of life. That in itself is amazing. Yesterday at the grocery store I saw a young teenaged acquaintance whose home was completely decimated with her and her family huddled inside. Are you okay, I asked, feeling ridiculous even as I did. Who can be okay after your home was picked up only to be thrown down again several yards away from its foundation? We're praying for you, I assured her. We are. We do.

I've been praying for our mayor, city council, police chief, fire chief, school superintendent and the other city leaders. There's no blueprint for this, our mayor said in a radio interview Sunday morning. I am thankful for the strong leadership they've demonstrated. May the Lord continue to grant them strength and wisdom, clarity of mind and calmness of spirit.

We saw sheriff's cars and utility trucks from neighboring counties and cities. I know that's not unusual with a disaster like ours, but seeing others come so quickly to our aid was, for lack of a better (less cheesy) word, heartwarming.

Our high school and middle school were both hit pretty hard. Classes have been canceled system wide for the whole week and a plan is being formulated for completing the school year. Students will not be returning to the high school and middle school campuses, that much is certain.

With the boys home this week, we are little off-kilter. Okay, so it's me that's off-kilter and, honestly, I can't blame it on the boys. Disasters move others to act, to serve. I brood.

I was thinking of the comfort, the security, that comes with knowing that God is sovereign. Sometimes we resent and resist His sovereignty, thinking it's not fair, that we deserve--or don't deserve--this or that. Ultimately, whether I find His sovereign control a source of refuge or resentment depends on what I know of His character. His Word tells me He is good, that His mercy endures forever, that He works all things according to His will for our good and His glory. If I believe that, if I know His glory to be my greatest desire, if I trust Him, then I can rest even in the midst of our corporate and personal grief.

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,
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling. (Ps. 45:1-3)

Aftermath

I am sitting on my back porch. The sky is a brilliant blue, a cool breeze blows, all is bright and beautiful. The beauty seems more than a little surreal when I consider that just a few hours ago, I was sitting on the sofa, the battery powered radio in my lap sputtering intermittent storm coverage, the only light being candlelight, sirens blaring in the distance, me holding my breath with every static filled damage update. I slept sporadically; mostly I waited for morning.

A tornado blew through our town last night, leaving in its wake a swath of destruction I have yet to see and can only imagine via the radio reports and the pictures I've viewed on Facebook. Talk about surreal. Our street is pristine, untouched, not even a stray stick or limb anywhere. One would never know of the devastation only a few blocks away. Devastation that is rightly called such as it is indeed devastating. Homes, businesses, our schools: the tornado was no respecter of any of them, ripping through them all with disastrous force.

Surreal.

Last night as I worried and fretted in the dark, fearful for my friends and acquaintances, anxious for news of any kind, yet thankful for our own safety--I thought of other nights that stretched long and interminable, nights where I waited and wished for the morning to come and come quickly--nights like when Hurricane Opal hit and we too waited out that storm in the dark, without power, ears glued to the radio for whatever news we could hear over the roar of the wind and the rain. We weren't nervous, not really, at least not until we could no longer get a local station. Our only contact with the outside world--this well before cell phones and the like--was then a radio broadcast out of New Orleans. We couldn't know what destruction had come to us until daylight. I sat on the sofa once the storm had blown through, and in the flickering illumination of candlelight, waited for morning.

I think too of those nights when one of the children was sick, or when the mommy (me) was sick. How I prayed, even begged, for morning! I can't explain it, maybe it's just me, but with the sunrise comes the strength to cope. I worry in the dark. I hope in the light.

I pray that same hope for those in my city struggling to cope in the aftermath. Loss and devastation came in the dark of the night; I pray we know the mercies that come new every morning. The mercies of the Lord that are new even this morning. In the midst of all that is broken and destroyed, not to mention during the long and lengthy rebuilding efforts to come, may we find strength in the Light, even as we hope in Him, Christ, our blessed Hope. He is the Light.

Be a Berean

I wrote this post a few weeks ago and it has languished in my draft queue due to my characteristically compulsive self editing. I'm still not sure it says exactly what I want and ought to say yet I am posting it anyway because it ties in with our recent discussion on the post Trust and Adjust? As always, I'd love to know your thoughts...

So a couple of weeks ago I spent some quality time cleaning out cabinets and bookshelves and boxes in a general decluttering effort. Some of you who know me in real life may well be impressed with my spurt of industry. I know I am.

In the process, I uncovered stacks and stacks of lesson outlines from various Bible studies I've facilitated over the years, articles I'd printed off the internet in the name of research, notebooks from various conferences with what seemed to be full transcripts of the speakers' messages (what can I say, I am a copious notetaker when I take notes).

I threw nearly all of it away.

I also found pages and pages of scribbled notes and outlines where I'd brainstormed the next great book or article idea. Like many (or most) bloggers, I have harbored a not-so-secret desire to be a writer. A real one. Of the printed page that people pay money to read.

I trashed those as well. All of them.

See, around the time of my decluttering efforts, one of my blog friends posted a question about the proper interpretation of a specific passage of Scripture. She had heard it explained one way, as had I, and as she looked at the verses in context she began to wonder if that particular application was valid. Her question, a good one, prompted some good discussion in the comments (a blogger's dream). A link was posted to a critique of the doctrinal laxity of a leading women's Bible teacher.

I clicked.

I read.

I was scared to death.

I thought of the all those studies I'd facilitated, some good, some not so. I thought of my (so called) great book ideas, none of them good, all of them not so. I saw where I had been guilty of many of the same errors and overspiritualization of Scripture. I saw the subtle self-fulfillment message that permeated most of what I'd written and a lot of what I'd taught. I saw my careless mishandling of the Word of God.

I was ashamed. Conviction fell heavy and hard. I felt like crying. Maybe I did.

You may think me ridiculous, that I'm taking myself far too seriously. While I will freely admit that can indeed be my tendency, I also know that Bible has some pretty serious warnings for those who presume to teach. I also know that though I may have been sincere, it is obedience the Lord requires. Sincerity too, but I'm not convinced one trumps the other.

So you can see that when I wrote my post in criticism of that speaker I didn't do so in an attitude of superiority. I couldn't. I can't. I've been guilty of the exact same thing. I am, often, guilty of the exact same thing. So where does that leave me? Where does that leave any humble, sincere teacher of God's Word? We're all sinners; we're all bound to mess up, misinterpret, misapply, mishandle and mistake what we're teaching.

I'm not sure what the complete answer is (hence the weeks it has taken me to write even this much). I'm pretty sure it begins with a twofold commitment to humility and to a high view of Scripture. As the teacher, I must be humble enough to accept reproof and conviction in those areas I have misunderstood God's Word. Because I believe God's Word to be authoritative, I must submit to it and not to my own preconceived assumptions.

By the same token, as a student, I must be a Berean (Acts 17:10-15). I must examine what's being taught. I must test the spirits. Because God's Word is both sufficient and authoritative, I will hold what I'm being taught up to the light of Scripture. I will ask: Is it Jesus centered? Gospel oriented? Does it fit the context of the passage? Is the focus on me and my perceived needs or on Christ and His glory? If not, then in humility, I will confront the teacher as appropriate with gentleness and ask her to explain how her teaching conforms to Scripture.

This is what I hope--what I pray--the ladies in my class do. That they would know God's Word for themselves, that they would be Berean-like women of the Word, carefully searching the Scriptures daily to find out whether the things we discuss in class conform to the Truth. I want them to ask, to question, to examine--to hold me accountable to teach the Word with integrity.

Whether you sit in the teacher's chair or that of the student, be a Berean. Be humble. Be diligent. Cry aloud for understanding. Call out for insight. Seek for it. Search for it. Our God will surely answer the desperate, passionate desire to know Him.

My son, if you receive my words
and treasure up my commandments with you,
making your ear attentive to wisdom
and inclining your heart to understanding;
yes, if you call out for insight
and raise your voice for understanding,
if you seek it like silver
and search for it as for hidden treasures,
then you will understand the fear of the LORD
and find the knowledge of God.
For the LORD gives wisdom;
from his mouth come knowledge and understanding

~Prov. 2:1-6

Monday's To Do list

• Laundry, always and forever: washing, folding, putting away, ironing


• Make out the week's menu and corresponding grocery list


• Shop for groceries


• Continue to work on memorizing Colossians 1


• Vacuum


• Dust


• Sweep


• Mop


• Walk


• Study 1 John 2 for Bible study Wednesday


• Finish reading the next chapter in When People are Big and God is Small


• Meet with a friend for prayer


• Attend #2 son's high school planning meeting

What's on your list today?

A Disciple's Renewal

From The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions:

O My Saviour,

Help me.

I am so slow to learn,
so prone to forget,
so weak to climb;

I am in the foothills when I should be on the heights;

I am pained by my graceless heart,
my prayerless days,
my poverty of love,
my sloth in the heavenly race,
my sullied conscience,
my wasted hours,
my unspent opportunities.

I am blind while light shines around me:
take the scales from my eyes,
grind to dust the evil heart of unbelief.

Make it my chiefest joy to study thee,
meditate on thee,
gaze on thee,
site like Mary at thy feet,
lean like John on thy breast,
appeal like Peter to thy love,
count like Paul all things dung.

Give me increase and progress in grace
so that there may be more decision in my character,
more vigour in my purposes,
more elevation in my life,
more fervour in my devotion,
more constancy in my zeal.

As I have a position in the world,
keep me from making the world my position;

May I never seek in the creature
what can only be found in the Creator;

Let not faith cease from seeking thee until it vanishes into sight.

Ride forth in me, thou King of kings and Lord of lords,
that I may live victoriously, and in victory attain my end.

Blessings all mine

The porch is clean, the mildew bleached, the cobwebs shop-vac'ed, the faux wicker hosed and scrubbed, new cushions purchased.

Tablecloth on the table, fajitas on the grill, lemonade pies in the freezer, guacamole and chips on the kitchen island.

Husband and boys throwing the football in the front yard, me pouring a glass of sweet tea.

Supper on the porch, gratitude in the heart.

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.

The Bruised Reed, Chapter 1

True confessions: I am currently reading four books. At the same time. I mean, not literally at the same time because, well, that would be impossible. But you know what I mean.

In other words, I have a problem. My name is Lisa and I read too many books. All at once.

So when I saw that The Bruised Reed was Challies' current selection for his Reading The Classics Together series, I was torn. I read Richard Sibbes' book a few years ago and since it was one of my very first introductions to the Puritan theologians I really need to read it again. I really want to read it again. Can I add one more book to the "currently reading" list? Five books? Is that crazy or what?

I don't know how consistent I will be, but I'm going to try. Because The Bruised Reed is good. Because reading The Bruised Reed will be good for me. Because I learn so much from reading Challies' reflections on the classics as well as the thoughts of the other participants.

The Bruised Reed, as may be obvious, is Sibbes' exploration of Matthew 12:18-20 (in which Matthew quotes Isaiah 42). In fulfillment of these verses, Christ accomplished the work of redemption with gentle grace and mercy: "A bruised reed he will not break and a smoldering wick he will not quench."

In defining what it means to be a "bruised reed," Sibbes says the following:

A bruised reed is a man that for the most part is in some misery, as those were that came to Christ for help, and by misery he is brought to see sin as the cause of it, for, whatever pretences sin makes, they come to an end when we are bruised and broken. He is sensible of sin and misery, even unto bruising; and, seeing no help in himself, is carried with restless desire to have supply from another, with some hope, which a little raises him out of himself to Christ, though he dare not claim any present interest of mercy.

This kind of bruising comes before conversion "so that the Spirit may make way for himself into the heart by levelling all proud, high thoughts, and that we may understand oursleves to be what indeed we are by nature." Yet bruising may also come to believers by sovereign design so that we may "know [ourselves] to be reeds, and not oaks. Even reeds need bruising, by reason of the remainder of pride in our nature, and to let us see we live by mercy."

The kind of bruising Sibbes is describing is not a fun process but I am so grateful for those things the Lord has brought into my life that have reminded me of my own weakness and sinfulness. It's not easy to see those things in me. It hurts. It humiliates. It's often embarrassing and painful. In those moments I know I live by mercy. I know it is Christ and Christ alone that is my hope and my salvation and I can be glad. I can marvel all over again at His grace toward someone like me and I can place my faith in the power of the gospel to save sinners.

Sibbes concludes the chapter by saying "It is no easy matter to bring a man from nature to grace, and from grace to glory, so unyielding and intractable are our hearts." Yes, indeed. Unyielding and intractable is my heart, stubborn and rebellious, wicked and depraved, yet His grace to me is not without effect, glory to His name!

Meeting Leslie

Last night I had so much fun meeting-and-greeting Leslie of Alabamenagerie! Leslie and I have been internet friends for years; I can't even remember how our blog paths first crossed. We both live in Alabama yet never had the opportunity to meet what with the eight kids between us and the responsibilities therein. But when I learned I would be taking my son over her way for a conference, we were finally able to work things out for a MIRL ("meet in real life") over coffee at Barnes and Noble.

We chatted about everything and anything including (among other things): school, Star Wars, our kids, blogging, doctrinal integrity, writing, and Yentl. Believe it or not, we never got around to discussing football (Alabama or Auburn), LOST or politics. So there you go. I think we could have talked non stop all weekend long!

Leslie posted on her Facebook page that she and I have been kindred spirits for years and right she is, a fact made all the more evident by our too-short visit last night. I am grateful for the example and encouragement she is to me. She is a smart and serious student of God's Word who also happens to be sweet and delightful and lots of fun to hang out with at the bookstore on a Thursday night! If you're not a regular reader of her blog, you should be!

And her kids came along for the fun. What great kids! I was glad to meet them as well.

Oh, and in violation of all blog protocol for MIRLs, we didn't even get a picture. Forgive us?

Trust and adjust?

She is a published author and skilled communicator. She has endured with resilience and grace what many would describe as an unfair twist of fate. Her testimony in the Lord's faithfulness to deliver her not from but through her tragedy is both inspiring and challenging.

However, I listened to her speak with a mixture of unease and dread gnawing at my stomach.

I began to make an unofficial tally of how many times she named the name "Jesus." I don't know why. I just grew curious. I think I counted once. And, if you're wondering, as was I, "repentance" came up with a subtotal of zero.

Not a scientific poll, of course.

I tried to both ignore and discount my misgivings. I wanted my unease to be unfounded, my misgivings unwarranted. I wanted to enjoy her jokes and be inspired by her beauty and her zeal. She was sincere; she was passionate; what more did I want, really? Who am I to judge?

All attempts to quiet my apprehensions fled when I glanced over at the notes the woman next to me had jotted down. My eyes caught the phrase "Cross: trust and adjust." I nearly came out of my chair. Adjust? As if we approach the cross and find a little something in our lives that needs tweaking, a mere "adjustment", and then we carry on our merry way because the rest of our lives is just fine? We just needed to "adjust" a little here and there?

I would offer that the kind of "adjustment" required of those who would seek the mercy Jesus offers at the cross is less of an adjustment and more like, well, death. Jesus commands that those who follow Him must take up their cross and die. Paul said he was crucified with Christ and he no longer lived but Christ lived in Him. In our flesh, we are sinful, depraved, wicked, rebellious children of wrath, fully deserving of an eternity of punishment in hell. Repenting of our sin isn't an "adjustment"; it's acknowledging our helpless, hopeless state before a holy, righteous God who will indeed judge sin with its rightful wages: death.

Trust is no small adjustment either. If I am truly trusting Christ and Christ alone for my salvation, I realize that there is nothing--nothing!--I have done to merit God's favor. Nothing. Trust says that I place my hope fully and completely in the promise of God to save those who come to Him in repentance and faith. It's all God; salvation is utterly and wholly His work. Trusting Him is both humbling and humiliating. No pride can stand before God's sovereignty in salvation.

Genuine faith doesn't "adjust"; it dies to self and responds in humble, faith-filled surrender.

Perhaps you think I am unnecessarily mincing words here. Perhaps you think me too harsh. After all, this speaker loves Jesus and certainly is not intentionally seeking to promote heresy of any kind. Of that I'm certain. She's sincere; isn't that more important?

Is it?

Ordinary Monday

In case you haven't noticed, I've been suffering from a serious bout of blogger's block. I think my problem (if you could call it an actual problem) stems both from a lack of time and a lack of inspiration. In short, I got nothin' and no time to post it.

A lack of blog fodder reminds me of the very ordinary life I lead. No complaints there, none whatsoever. I am so grateful--increasingly so--for the normal, common, everyday life that is mine by the grace of my sovereign God. Though it doesn't make for compelling blogging necessarily, ordinary is just fine by me.

Today my ordinary life will consist of laundry and vacuuming, grocery shopping and errand running, some Bible study prep and posting this very ordinary blog post. We begin a new unit of Bible study on Wednesday in which we will be studying and discussing 1 John. It's something a little different in that there's no book to buy, no specific homework questions to complete. I'm really excited about it, a little nervous too.

You may remember I've been reading Let the Reader Understand, a book on Biblical interpretation and application. It's been a challenging read and a humbling one as well. I can't help but realize how very much I have to learn as I struggle to comprehend the author's points. Sometimes I feel very ignorant indeed!

My #3 son is home from school today with a fever. Or, at least I think he has a fever. We don't have a thermometer that works--one sure sign the kids are growing older! I used the tried and true diagnostic tool employed by moms everywhere: kissing his forehead. He feels warm, looks flushed and thus stays home with me. Though it's silly, I can't help but feeling a little responsible since I had just remarked a couple of days ago (Saturday, I think) that none of my kids had missed a day due to sickness this whole school year. Oh, well.

So my oldest son, now a driver, offered to take his youngest brother to school so I didn't have to get out this morning at all! Having another driver is the best! Someone asked me if I'm not nervous and scared with him on the road and I can honestly say maybe I am, a little, but only a little because the benefits? They are awesome! Taking his brother to school, running to the store to get the sugar I forgot, picking his brother up from practice, it's all great.

My parents were here this past weekend. They like to work so I suggested we clean out the flowerbeds, thinking we would pull a few weeds and be done (how two workhorses like my parents produced a daughter so unused to yard work and the like is beyond me). Not so fast. We cleared, we pulled, we trimmed, and finally we planted. And it looks good. Really good. I think perhaps they may have inspired me to actually get out there and do some care and maintenance on my own. Maybe.

Well, I've tarried here long enough. The vacuum beckons. Whether your day is full of the exciting and the extraordinary or, like mine, full of the common and the commonplace, may you rejoice in the Lord's gracious provision. This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Happy Monday, friends!

How does this passage point to Christ?

From Let the Reader Understand: A Guide to Interpreting and Applying the Bible,

Ultimately, any interpretation of a biblical passage is incomplete until it asks:

1. How does this passage function in God's plan of redemption for his people, and where does it fit into the unfolding of that plan in history?

2. How does the passage point to Jesus Christ; i.e., how does this (OT) passage participate in the entire OT's movement toward, and focus on, Jesus Christ; or, how does this (NT) passage build on the fulfillment of God's plan in Jesus Christ?

3. How does this passage, having been focused on Christ, instruct those who are in Christ, the church; how does it help us to follow him, know him, or grow in him?

On Mission in Nicaragua: The Week in Pictures, part 1

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Other posts in this series:
Maybe I Will Dance
Home
It was good...
Our Arrival
Nuevo Guinea
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday

Book Club: Fireworks Over Toccoa

I have the pleasure of working with a great group of women over at 5 Minutes for Books. Jennifer and the rest of the team are always cooking up something new and fun for us, be it the new and improved Classics Book Club, the Children's Mystery Challenge, or an online discussion group of a newly released novel. All this in addition to the wide array of reviews we post! Like I said, we have fun.

Currently we're reading and discussing Fireworks Over Toccoa by Jeffrey Stepakoff. Since it's via the internet, our book club discussion consists of us posting our responses to the novel and to some of the questions Jennifer has posed. Before you read any further, know that my post contains SPOILERS! If you don't want to know what happens in the novel, don't read any more of this post!! I will also say up front that this novel isn't among my favorites but that my opinion is just that: mine. In fact, my opinion differs with other members of our team. If you think you might be interested in reading the book, be sure to visit the reviews posted here to see what other readers thought. And, if you read along with us, we'd love for you to join the discussion!

Remember: my answers contain plot spoilers! Here's my thoughts in response to Jennifer's questions...

Many of the characters in the novel deal with regret and/or loss. How did these themes affect the characters? How did it affect their decisions? With whom could you relate as they struggled through these emotions?

Honey, Lily's mom, represents a clear picture of how many deal with loss in her refusal to even speak the name of her son that she lost in the war. One element I found interesting in the novel is the theme of loss. We see how the war touched nearly the lives of nearly everyone, from Lily's childhood sweetheart who will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair to those like Lily's family and Jake whose loved ones were killed.

*Do you think duty is ever more important than love?

If you mean love as in a sentimental, sappy, passionate emotion then yes, I think commitment and duty is more important. If you mean love in terms of a promise to remain true and steadfast until death do us part and duty as a mechanical, empty fulfillment of an obligation, then no I would say love is more important. In fact, one of my frustrations with the novel is not only all the melodrama but that Lily would so freely abandon all sense of commitment. Sure, she was lonely. Loneliness is understandable and certainly sympathetic. I disliked the sense of inevitability surrounding Jake and Lily's relationship.

How would you describe the love between Jake and Lily? Was it genuine? Born of fear or loneliness? Could it have survived the intricacies of "real life," or could it only have existed in the tiny pocket of time outside of reality that they had?

I think it was born of loneliness (see my answer above). As for whether or not it was genuine and would have lasted, I want to say no, mainly because I disagree with the premise of unexpectedly finding one's "true love" that renders the commitment to marriage as irrelevant and constraining. Also, their "love" really only lasted a couple of days, a tiny pocket of time indeed--how then could they "know" each other so well and so thoroughly? I have to admit, I chuckled a little at Jake's surprise at Lily's art. "Until now, he thought he knew her entirely." After only a day?

How much of this story is a wartime story? Would Jake and Lily and her father and mother have reacted differently had they not been in the midst of a war? How has your family been affected by war?

It is a war story and interestingly enough that is what I liked most about the story. My generation and those after me are largely untouched by war, at least not to the extent of my grandparents' generation, the "greatest generation" of World War II.

*What was your response to Lily’s decision to offer a thirsty African-American soldier a rare ice cold Coca-Cola in the middle of busy downtown 1945 Toccoa, Georgia? Do you think she should have been more direct in her action to help him, or stayed out of it entirely?

I liked her boldness in doing so in full view and I also liked how she sought to protect the reputation of both herself and the soldier.

*Honey speaks the name of her son, Jonathan, only once in the story after he is killed in the war. Do you think the way she deals with his death is understandable? Do you think it’s healthy? What effect do you think it has on Lily?

Denial is an emotion I understand, particularly in view of such a tragic loss. Healthy, not so much. I think being able to commiserate in their grief would have strengthened the relationship between Lily and Honey and would have helped Lily understand her own loneliness during Paul's deployment.

*Lily’s father Walter is very clear with her about what he expects her to do when he speaks to her the morning after she has been out all night with Jake. What was your response to how Walter handled this situation? In his place, in what ways would you have reacted similarly or differently?

I could sense his mixture of patriotism and grief when he reminded Lily of the great sacrifice so many had made. "Not because it was easy or because it felt right, not because of love. They did it out of a sense of selflessness, out of a sense of duty." Though I would argue that genuine love is selflessness, I appreciate his point and his plea with Lily to honor her commitment to Paul though I probably would have been a little less dismissive of the affair and the fact that she had spent the night with Jake.

Though not a typical Young Adult coming-of-age novel, how is Fireworks Over Toccoa the story of Lily's coming of age?

We see that her relationship with Jake and the loss of Paul motivates Lily to move beyond her life in Toccoa, going to art school for example, traveling the world, meeting and marrying a wonderful man, raising a daughter. One wonders if she would have discovered such a life if the events of that summer in 1945 hadn't occurred.

What personal connection, if any, did you have with this novel?: the place (Toccoa, Georgia), the World War II setting, influential families in small towns, military deployment, the loss of a child or sibling, temptation in marriage?

While I found the novel's sweet sentimentality a little frustrating (what can I say, I'm a curmudgeon I suppose!), Lily and Jake's affair irresponsible, and the intimate scene wholly unnecessary, I did think its picture of small town life in the South to be spot on and exactly how I picture my grandparents and parents' lives during that time.

Click here to see reviews of Fireworks Over Toccoa and here to see what others thought in response to these same questions.

Status Report, April

Sitting...at my dining room table

Drinking...coffee, black

Loving...the sunshine and the blue skies

Wanting...to sit on the porch but it's still just a little too cool at the moment. Later, perhaps.

Enjoyed...a "vacation" day yesterday. We all need a day off now and then, don't you agree? My "vacation" included, among other things, an episode of Masterpiece Theater, lunch out with my husband, laundry (always and forever laundry) and several chapters of a mystery novel.

Reveling...with my guys in Duke's victory last night. It was a late night, even for those of us on vacation, an intense night (close game!), but a lot of fun in the end to share the joy of victory!

Thinking...about correct interpretation and application of Scripture and how one arrives at both, something that has been brought to the forefront of my ponderings and wonderings through a variety of means and circumstances. It's something I'm wanting to think through more thoroughly and hopefully write some about what the Lord is teaching me. A couple of things I've found instructive: Let the Reader Understand, a book on hermeneutics (only two chapters in but so far so good, not to mention deep and challenging), this post at Southern Baptist Girl and this post at The Upward Call. Hopefully more to come on this subject...

Anticipating...our end-of-Bible-study celebration in the morning! Really, it's not the end of Bible study, only the end of that particular study on Holiness. Next week we will begin a study of 1 John. Anticipating that too!

Considering...something a little different this summer for the ladies at my church: a bookclub! I've never done a real, live, non-internet bookclub. Any pointers? I hope it will be fun; I think it will!

Realizing...all over again that parenting is hard. I mean, it's not like I forgot it was so (indeed, who can?) but rather that a fresh sense of being overwhelmed and weary and helpless has washed over me and again I want to run and hide from the hard-ness of it all.

Thankful...and grateful and humbled and amazed and speechless when I consider the death and resurrection of my Lord Jesus and the redemption and forgiveness and mercy His sacrifice purchased for me. Our Easter celebration was full of the usual: good food, good friends, candy, and, yes, chocolate chip pies. I pray it too was full of the unusual, the divine: worship and wonder and the Word of truth, the gospel. He is risen! Glory to God, He is risen indeed!

One guess...

...as to which team my guys are pulling for in tonight's national championship game...

The Precious Blood

Blessed Lord Jesus,

Before thy cross I kneel and see
the heinousness of my sin,
my iniquity that caused thee to be 'made a curse',
the evil that excites the severity of divine wrath.

Show me the enormity of my guilt by
the crown of thorns,
the pierced hands and feet,
the bruised body,
the dying cries.

Thy blood is the blood of incarnate God,
its worth infinite, its value beyond all thought.

Infinite must be the evil and guilt that demands such a price.

Sin is my malady, my monster, my foe, my viper,
born in my birth,
alive in my life,
strong in my character,
dominating my faculties,
following me as a shadow,
intermingling with my every thought,
my chain that holds me captive in the empire of my soul.

Sinner that I am, why should the sun give me light,
the air supply breath,
the earth bear my tread,
its fruits nourish me,
its creatures subserve my ends?

Yet thy compassions yearn over me,
thy heart hastens to my rescue,
thy love endured my curse,
thy mercy bore my deserved stripes.

Let me walk humbly in the lowest depths of humiliation,
bathed in thy blood,
tender of conscience,
triumphing gloriously as an heir of salvation.

~"The Precious Blood" from The Valley of Vision