Breathless

I get breathless when I think about the promises of God.

Great and precious promises. Exceedingly great and precious promises. Drink deep, and find them.

I’m originally from New Mexico, and when the horizon isn’t blocked up by a bunch of trees and hills like it is here in the piedmont of South Carolina, and when you live up by the atmosphere at 1 mile, you can see for miles in every direction. You can literally see the curvature of the earth.

And there’s more sky. Deep, blue, endless sky. Which terrifies my husband who feels like he's about to fly off into outer space with nothing to catch him.  (He grew up here in the piedmont, in a nice forest.)

And when that deep blue sky fills up with piles of deep, high, puffy white clouds, you know something is about to happen.

Because the sunsets are incredible. Those clouds turn into fire, gold and red and rose and pink and a thousand shades of vibrant that have never been named.

I flew into Albuquerque during one such sunset. And I’ve never forgotten it. The plane flew across dry mesas and dusty land, and then over the rolling hills that pile up and begin the western rocky mountain chain.  And suddenly the mountains dropped off under the plane in a sharp cliff, and we flew in to a golden, fiery, sunset. The clouds were low and covering the entire city. Rain was pouring down. And it was like flying into the heart of heaven.

Exceedingly great. Vibrantly precious. Mind-blowingly spectacular.

Words can never describe them. Those promises of God.

But we can experience them.

My husband taught on Ephesians chapter 1 the other week, and one thing he said took hold of my heart: “The most enduring promises of God are spiritual.”

Spiritual. Not physical. Because, as Peter reminds us, those exceedingly great and precious promises are given to us for one reason: “That through them you may be partakers of divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust.” (2 Peter 1:4)

I grew up hearing a lot about every thing wrong that I did. Someone was always available to find fault. And now, so many years later, I do it myself.

Many of those old-school theological folks had some incredible things to say. And when we stumble across them again, it’s so freeing.

A friend had posted an incredible article by Timothy Keller titled “When Sin is Grievous and Grace is Stunning.”

I took a breath in. Grace is stunning.

And I read. He had dug up some John Newton from the 18th century and modernized it like this:

“Newton gives us some deeply convicting ways to examine our hearts. Christians, he says, put too little time and effort into examining themselves and seeking to grow in holiness, in the fruit of the Spirit. But does such close examination mean that we are doomed to always feel inadequate, ashamed, and guilty? No, because Newton sees  deeper knowledge of sin leading to richer rejoicing in grace.”

Oh. Rejoicing in Grace. I've always missed that part.

There’s more:

“People often try to fill their hearts with the danger of what they are doing. You can tell yourself, If I keep doing this it will cause problems for me. That may be true and could be good "smelling salts" to get you to recognize your problem. But if that's all you say to your heart, it effectively bends the metal of your heart but doesn't really soften and permanently reshape it. The motivation is ultimately selfish and only brings short-term change.”

I started to understand. So, when I remind myself that procrastinating now will make more work for me later, that doesn't change my heart. And when I mutter in my heart that my never picks up his socks, and then remind myself that if I let that out, I'm just a dripping faucet...I keep the words in, but the bitterness too.  

And when I teach my children that they shouldn't hit or yell or say mean words because it will make them unkind adults, I'm missing the heart of the issue.

And here's what blew my mind in this article:

“We need to go deeper to the only lasting way to change our hearts—take them to the radical, costly grace of God in Christ on the cross. You show your heart the infinite depths to which he went so that you would be free from sin and its condemnation. This fills you with a sense not just of the danger or sin, but also of its grievousness. Think about how ungrateful it is, think of how your sin is not just against God's law but also against his heart. Melt your heart with the knowledge of what he's done for you. Tremble before the knowledge of what he is worth—worthy of all glory.”

A heart that melts before a God of great worth. Isn't that beautiful?

That changes things. I work now, because I have been blessed with life by the One who gave his life. 

I pick up socks after my husband, because my God is picking up after me. And forgiving me. And never muttering about my issues.

And I teach my children gentle ways and right actions because our great God first extended his love, his grace, himself, to us.

And I get breathless. Because these things are deep. 

These are exceedingly great and precious promises. 

P.s. You can listen to Jason's teaching here: http://calvaryspartanburg.com/teachings.html. Load up "Unknown Blessings" Eph. 1.

You can read the Timothy Keller article here: http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2013/06/24/when-sin-is-grievous-and-grace-is-stunning/  (I am only linking to thegospelcoalition.com in order to cite this article; they don't know me and I don't know them)

Mind over Matter

I've begun running again recently. I used to be a runner.   

It was my release, my freedom. It was how I unwound. 

And it was different then too. I could skip a week or three, and pick right back up, 8 mile pace, for  3 miles...no problem.

But when at age 36 I decided to run again, my body and I had a little disagreement.  After birthing two babies and adding a few years of life, my body was sure it was time to relax.  I just heard someone say that our bodies have one goal...to become mulch, and I think mine was well on the way.

So I got plugged into a running program and managed to run around the block. And then the neighborhood. And one rainy day, I even ran in a race.  

And then I gave in to my body and went back to holding the couch down for a few months. But now I'm back at it. 

Well, today I realized that I've gotten past the point of sheer effort and anguish.  Now my body is ready to go.

I was told years ago by one of my coaches that running is 85% mental.  I think he was wrong. I think it's 99% mental...give or take.

Because now I can go further, but I'm inclined to stop sooner than I should. I'm getting bored. And thirsty.  And sweaty.  I need chocolate.

Mind over matter. 

I've got a flaw. I love new things. Moving to new cities, trying new foods, starting new projects. Starting to get in shape. But then the new become routine and must be maintained. And that's where I usually start to lose momentum.

I procrastinate. 

Even with the things I love.  

James chapter 1 tells us this in verse 4: "And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

Lacking in nothing sounds amazing. Being perfect and complete sounds like something I desire. But first I must endure in testing. 

I must persever through the mundane. I must get up, put on my running shoes, and walk out the door, and then, run. And run well.  I must build up strength.

I must let endurance have its  perfect result. 

With the small things. Like words. And attitudes. 

With the details. A job done, or a job done well with a joyful heart. 

With the great matters of eternity and my soul.  I can tag a verse of the day, or dig in deep, in study, in prayer, in worship, and grow my soul. And then water the souls around me.

Endurance. The results are worth it.

And it all starts with mind over matter.  

No Regression...

So, confession time. I've been noticing my jeans were a little tight. And I thought to myself, "gee, I really need to start running again, now that it's warm."

And to make myself do it, I gave myself a goal...no new jeans til I run regularly.

Well, I've managed to do just that...you know, run once or twice in the four weeks since I decided it was warm enough.  (and for all my friends in the north, I know, 50 degrees with no ice or snow is warm...)

And then I went to the doctor who had to take my weight.  Oh.  Reality check.  The one or two pounds I thought I'd gained were actually ten.  In four months.  

I'm a fairly active person, my son has food allergies, so we eat really well, and I've always been in decent shape.  Until now apparently.  

What startled me was that I hadn't changed anything. I wasn't eating more or worse or exercising less.  And this kind of gain had never happened to me before.

Here's the reality.  There comes a time in life when your regular routine will actually cause regression.  

Ouch.

It's time to change things up.

That's a picture of the chocolate chip cookies I made tonight (and yes, they're dairy free, gluten free, egg and nut free and even gluten free...). But a cookie is a cookie.

So instead of snuggling with my handsome husband on the couch, eating cookies, I went for a run. And I ran further than usual, feeling that lovely jiggle with each step.  Sigh.

Half of America has learned from that P90x guy that you gotta change things up to build up and maintain strength.

Because things change. Life changes. Our age changes. Our bodies and metabolisms and appetites change.

There are people I admire so much.  People that live life that looks the way I want my life to look. People that talk the way I want to, with so much grace and warmth and love and wisdom. People that laugh and cry and dig in. People that are strong.  

They love and serve God with a grace and fervor that I hope I have.  And when I wonder how they've managed to maintain through the kids and jobs and dogs and cookies...

The answer is always the same.  They've all gotten there by changing it up. 

And that's how I want to live...No Regression.  

The battle...

This fuzzy, blue picture shows my Pilates mat.  We have begun bonding in this new year, it supporting my back with a layer of softness as I manipulate my way through some Pilates moves in the hopes of still being able to tie my own shoes when I'm 90.  Yes, it's on.  





Oh, and did I mention that I've also cut back on complaining, amped up on the prayer and time in the Word side of my life, and declared zero-tolerance on procrastination.  Which is unfortunate, because I'm really good at procrastinating.  And now I'll have to find something else to be good at.  Like blogging.  Or finishing up all the Christmas cookies left in the house.  But that might make the Pilates harder.


I have a favorite quotation from Lloyd Alexander that challenges me every time I recall it. "For each of us comes a time when we must be more than what we are." A new year brings that idea to the surface and I have grabbed it, and am reluctant to let it go.  I want to be more than what I am, that I may serve more fully the God who made me. 


My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20 NLT  Amen.