This week's post by Theresa Adams

Our boys are six and almost nine. That means we are departing from the little boys stage and entering into the big boy stage. Our kids are the ones now finding out ways to climb on top of the play structures at parks. They are the ones occasionally rolling their eyes and learning what boundaries they can push. They are the ones asking for house keys and cell phones (No. Just no.) As we learn to navigate this new season of parenthood it is tricky to not look too much ahead to where we hope our kids to be and wish them out of where they are. It is a balance to not get down on them so hard that we don't remember where they were. It's easier to point out what they still have to work on then it is to praise them for what they've done. It takes being intentional to not compare them against another kids progress. To remember that they will all learn math, eventually. They'll all be able to run a certain amount of laps at one point. How and when they get there just varies.

That's kind of how we are with spiritual growth, isn't it? Although no calendar or time piece can measure our growth we are constantly focused on where we should be or where we think God wants us to be that it overshadows where we are coming from. We get down on ourselves for not being at a certain point yet that we can forget where we've been. We continue to get down on ourselves for not  spending more time reading our Bible, for not knowing as much as we should, for being too short with a friend, for not being as quick to forgive. We can spend so much time on the "woulda" and "coulda" and even "shouldas" that we completely forget what once was. We lose sight of where we've been. Instead of thinking, gosh, it's a miracle I'm even here. Getting to live this life. Spending time doing these things. We just focus on what we aren't doing. How we aren't living.

In her book, For The Love, Jen Hatmaker says: "You are doing a better job than you think. Self-criticism sometimes improves best practices, but it can also lie to you and probably has. You may need to ignore your mind and watch yourself for awhile." She goes on to say, "Condemnation is a trick of the enemy, not the language of the heavens. Shame is not God's tool, so if we are slaves to it, we're way off the beaten path. And it is harsh out there, debilitating actually. If you inner monologue is critical, endlessly degrading, it's time to move back to grace."

Grace. "The love and mercy given to us by God, because God desires us to have it not because of anything we have done to earn it." What if, instead of thinking about how far we still have to go, shaming ourselves for not being there yet, we take a minute to think about how far we've come? What if instead of beating ourselves up we soak in the grace that's so freely available to us.  As Rob said recently " Change isn't just possible it a guarantee."  I don't know about you, but that is some good news.The good news is that God isn't looming over us with a measuring stick. Tapping his watch, saying "tisk-tisk" that we aren't "there" yet. Rather I'm starting to believe He's actually waiting over us cheering us on. Seeing growth in us that we don't see in ourselves. Elbowing the angels "did you see that? That ones mine."

I recently had a friend ask me some questions about my past. She had heard bits and pieces over the years. But she wanted more. In talking to her and sharing with her it made me realize just how far away I am from where I once was. Isn't that amazing? Not in a look-at-me-and-what-I-have-done sort of way, but in a wow God sure has been graceful with me sort of way. Does this mean we look back with regret? Does this mean we look back and glorify some sordid past? No. We don't even need to dwell there. But, what we can do is glance back and see the progress of what we've, with the Holy Spirit, have made and look forward to what's to come.

I am a miracle. And so are you. Perhaps your past isn't nearly as checkered as mine. Still it's just as amazing you are here. Whatever your "here" looks like if you are keeping your eyes on Jesus most likely it looks a lot different than your "there."  Last time someone wronged you were you a bit quicker to forgive? Did you hand out grace instead of disfavor? That's remarkable. Are you becoming quicker to repent? More sensitive to sin? Amazing. Do you have a growing interest in God? Are you wanting to learn more about Him than you did a year ago? 5 years ago?  Are you finding it easier to love others? Were you able to stuff your selfishness aside and give of yourself to someone when you didn't feel like that? That's a miracle right there. All of the steps no matter how minute or mighty are worth celebrating.

What if we were better at celebrating? What if we were just as quick to share our triumphs as we were our failings? I think we can all agree life is hard. All the more reason to lean in to others when we see growth. When we recognize something in someone that wasn't once there. When we can say "I'm not who I was." Let's not just get together when we need prayer or when we are struggling or when life is seeming too much. Let's not discount the steps we take no matter if mammoth or mini. A step is a step. One step closer to the person God is shaping you to be.

In our family we have started to celebrate when our kids are courageous. When they try new things or when they don't give up on a difficult situation. We look ahead for those opportunities with expectancy and anticipation. Why should it be any different with us and our walks with God? If we know Him and believe in Him then we ought to look forward with expectancy to the works He will do in us.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. 
Philippians 1:6

Post by Ashley Bowie - Sapling in progress.

I’ve been a Christ follower for a majority of my life. At about the age of eleven I walked quietly to an alter during the midweek worship service at my church. The children’s pastor came and put an arm on my shoulder and asked me what I wanted to pray about. I told her I wasn’t good at being good, I didn’t know how to do all the right things all the time. I don’t remember much else about what we said, but we prayed together, I asked forgiveness for my sins and prayed that Jesus would live in my heart and teach me how to be good.

I’d like to tell you that I have never once wavered from my faith since that day. I wish I could say that I learned how to be good and am now an expert at it. But you’re smart, and you would know I was lying. In fact, from that day on, I did devote myself to being good. I read my bible, I prayed, I attended church, memorized scripture, went to church camp and worshiped my God with abandon. I learned which sins were socially unacceptable, and what sort of girl I was supposed to be. Though I was young, and though “church culture” has a tendency to capitalize on the idea that we are to “be good,” I did have some deep, life changing moments with God during that time. In spite of all the world’s best efforts to distract me with religion, I can recall the simplest moments sitting alone with God and knowing with certainty that I belonged to Him and He loved me.

One of the sweetest memories I have, is coming in from swimming in midsummer, exhausted, all played out and happy. I fell onto my bed in the late afternoon and let the sun warm me, my mind was wandering around all of the fun I had that day, and landed abruptly on Jesus. I picked up my bible and read:

1 John :18 “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.”

I laid back on my bed and breathed pure truth into my lungs. My heart was overwhelmed there by the fearless love of God. Call it the sprouting of a seed, the first inclination that I did not want to “be good” I just wanted to be near to God.

I have sinned a lot since those sweet days. In fact, I think I am even worse at being good than I was as a child. I have fought depression, anxiety, anger, fear and mistrust in my good Father. I have manipulated scripture to “mean” what I wanted it to, and I have ignored God and my bible for months on end.

But the little sapling from so long ago has remained firm, has grown to a full tree that I cling to, remembering that though it costs Him everything, God is not afraid to love me. I have also come to understand grace in a deeper and more personal way than I could have imagined. I have tasted the sweetness of God’s presence, and His abounding love when I thought He would rather not deal with me at all. I have taped the surface of what it means to love God without fear, the way He loves me.

There are forests around here known as old growth forests. They are the ones that have been around for at least 150 years, most for longer. The redwood forest is one of the oldest, and is thought to date back at least one thousand years. These trees have survived bleak winters, dry summers, fires, insect plagues and worst of all, humans. Old growth forests have extremely fertile soil and are host to more varieties of plant and animal life than other forests.

Any culture has its fads, and Christians are no different. We seem to be in a fad right now, where we are looking for the most clever way to say a thing. We want the raw truth, sure, but give it to us in a phrase we can remember and pass on to people who need a golden nugget of wisdom.
In all the storms and battles of my life, when I was at the very lowest point, it was not a cleverly packaged phrase that I wanted to hear, or that I needed to pull me out of my self pity or shine a light on my dark fears. It was that ancient oak, born of the simplest sweetest moment of love between my savior and me. It was the ancient wisdom that says; Jesus loves me, I am sure of this.

Isaiah 61:3 “...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”

Every mighty oak began as a seed. Every branch in you that bears fruit began as a seed and has been cultivated by the omniscient hand of the Father from the beginning until now. The longer you have a faith, the longer you are in Christ, the easier it can become to sort of forget or become bored of the old simple truths. They are like hymns that just tell you how it is, in simple repeatable verse, accompanied by simple instruments, beautiful in their place. Altogether forgettable if you aren’t paying attention. 

But listen, let it fill you; Perfect love that drives away fear, a garment of praise instead of despair, Love has nothing to do with punishment, joy instead of mourning, Oaks of righteousness, made for the display of HIS splendor. These are the truths by which God captured my heart. These are the truths I return to when the lights are off and my soul is alone except for God. 

Life can be bleak and difficult at times, you may not see any new growth, or feel like you are accomplishing any good at all. You may feel alone or lost or even too far gone for God to be willing to rescue you. Maybe you feel like God is treating you unfairly. In my most difficult moments, it was not new understanding or clever wording that made me turn and run into God’s waiting arms. It was the old growth, that has found me in the quiet, the ancient wisdom that was a seed when God designed the world, it sprouted in my heart as I was laying in the warm afternoon summer sun. It has been my source and sustenance through so many storms and has been there after I’ve wandered off, and come trudging through the rain and mud, home again.

This week’s post is by Ashley Bowie, a dramatic sort of person who needs dramatic reminders about things.

I hauled my sack of bones to the beach last weekend. It really felt that way too. I was weary, confused, sad, and angry. I went to the Olympic coast where the waves are unimpeded by the islands, and I let the crashing of the waves fill my heart and still my soul. Does that sound dramatic? Maybe it was a little bit, but the world is a mess and getting messier, and no one has any solutions.

I was sitting there in my tent, watching the waves, listening to their penetrating roar, and praying that God would just help my heart, and suddenly the peace that passes all understanding found me.

Revelation 1:14-15 “The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters.”

I don’t know how recently you have sat on the beach or near a rushing river, but let me delight you with a little drama. You park your car at the end of a long line of cars facing a thick wall of trees you can’t see more than a few feet into. “Great” you think, “the beach will be crowded and I won’t get any peace and quiet.” But you haul your stuff out of the car anyway and head into the woods. The trees are quiet, the soft forest floor muffles your steps and that smell, what is it? It’s wood and salt, green ferns and ageless evergreen. Things start slipping away and you don’t notice. The careless words spoken to you, the careless words you’ve spoken, fade. Life might be sad, but it’s also beautiful. You breathe deep and exhale in a staggered sigh. Then you see it, as the trees thin and you begin a descent to the shore, there it is, the wide open sea. You catch your breath and practically run to get there faster. Pitch a tent, kick off your shoes, run for the tide and return their stares with smiles. Families, couples, children and photographers dot the shore line and they all seem to be talking, but you can’t hear them. The crashing of the waves is consuming, overwhelming and deeply comfortable. It’s undeniable, those rushing roaring waves produce an exhilarating calm.

So much of life is what you choose. The parade of endless anger, prejudice and hate will always be there because we live among fallen men. The struggle between your flesh and spirit is not going to end until we reach heaven. There will always be a battle in the making or a battle we are fighting. But there will also always be the voice of God. His consuming, overwhelming, comforting roar will always be there to hear if you will listen.

I’m not suggesting that we tune out the world, or ignore the problems of our generation. I am saying that the voice of God is louder, stronger and all together pure. Nothing will calm your heart like He can. The problems of the world will come, and we can offer solutions, and fight for social justice and do our best to make the world better. But if we aren’t careful, the world can be overwhelming.

Romans 8:5-6 “For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.”

I really needed the reminder that God’s voice is like the roar of many waters; consuming all other noise, and drowning out the superfluous demands for attention. It was a call for me to set my mind on the Spirit, to keep His voice near to me and let Him be the one who sorts my thoughts and gives weight to the priorities in my life.

You don’t need the open ocean or a mighty river to feel that overwhelming peace. You just need the Spirit of God. I want to remember the next time I’m feeling overwhelmed by life, that the Spirit of God is in me, that His voice will consume the noise and give me peace.

This blog is by Ashley Bowie, who pairs well with coffee and a good story.

Life is really hard. I’m sure you have noticed that. Sometimes in life you have to deal with people who don’t like you, or with people you don’t like. You have to work during times you would rather be with your family. People say mean things or do terrible things, loved ones die or we have to stand by as they face trials we don’t know how to help with. Life is really hard.

It does not become perfectly easy as a Christ follower. I’m sure you’ve noticed that too. People still hurt you, bosses still exist, tragedies happen to us or the people we love and you can still get weary and depressed. In our own community right now there are people facing loss and hardship that seems unfair, and more than most of us know what to do with.

The world will offer a few solutions to your problems, they come in little inspirational slogans on a backdrop of a sunset or waterfall. ‘Pull yourself up’ is the general idea in most of them. If you can’t manage that, then try to keep your sorrows to yourself and not weigh down the rest of the world. You’ll get better, give it time.

The people of God have another option. We have one another. The New Testament has 55 “One Another” statements. These verses call out how we are to treat one another. We are called the body of Christ; we are one body. The hand does not despise the foot, the eye does not despise the heart, we are all in this together. When one member suffers, all suffer, when one rejoices, all rejoice. That means we don’t abandon people when they are sad because it makes us too sad. We don’t grow envious of one another’s victories because we didn’t get a victory. We share in these things with one another. You are no freer to walk away from a member of the body of Christ than you are to cut off your own hand. Sure you could, but only at a great detriment to yourself.

A few weeks ago, the women of Redeemer gathered together for breakfast, prayer and good conversation. Usually there is a teaching during these quarterly gatherings but not this week. We gathered intentionally, to bear one another’s burdens.

Galatians 6:2 “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

There is no instruction on how to do this. But as the body of Christ, that has the spirit of Christ, you don’t have to know. Sometimes the thing to do is just be there, sometimes it’s offering prayer, or to take a task off their hands. The thing is, Christ knows what is needed, and we as His body, simply act in love. Language does not contain the right words in times of sorrow, and it is hard to know what do or say when your friend loses someone, or faces a tragedy. But still we are called to bear with one another.

I think in the simplest of terms, this means just not walking away, not cutting off your hand. For us, on that sunny Saturday morning, this meant we spent time just talking with one another, listening to one another’s stories, and sharing our own. This meant that when we prayed for a friend we all wept together for the struggle she is facing. This means we remember one another’s trials and we continue to pray. You don’t have to know what to do because God does know, and He will see to it. Bearing with one another means hand to hand praying, one foot after the other, brain communicating with heart, lungs handling the rhythm of breath while the tear ducts empty.

No one is in this alone. The world has nothing to offer because the world is “every man for himself.” Among the body of Christ it is, “every man is myself.” 

This post is by Becca Wellan, a volunteer at Redeemer who firmly believes there will be coffee and hammocks and bonfires in heaven.

“You know when the sun is about to set, at the beginning of summer? Everything smells like fresh cut grass,” she says, looking out at the road, barely lit by dim headlights. “That’s how I imagine it. There will be fields of soft grass and we’ll just lay there, watching the stars come out. Feeling nothing but peace.”

My dear friend and I pulled up to my dumpy, old house and sat there talking for another hour. Already, we spent several hours working through our struggles together. I had a desperate, heavy heart that night and I craved the salve of gospel-conversation. Soon, talk turned into daydreaming about heaven. 

This past year did not go as planned. But really, does anything? I’ve been blindsided by heartache and desperation, drowning in an endless sea of questions I can’t answer.

I am no Job or King David. I won’t pretend to be well acquainted with the suffering of this world and really, I’m not prepared to write about my own. But I will say this. In the questions and confusion, in the hurt and fear, I’ve clung to this hope: one day, one glorious day, it will all be over. 

Finding healing in this world is not our only hope. 

And after you have suffered a little while, 
the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, 
will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. // 1 Peter 5:10. 

If you believe that Jesus has saved you from the power and punishment of your sin, the process of being restored, confirmed, strengthened and established has already begun. But while we’re on earth, we will suffer in one way or another. A guarantee, like death and taxes and coffee shops on every corner in the PNW. 

By no means to make light of the horrendous state of our world, but in comparison with forever, it will last no longer than the morning mist. Or my morning cup of jo, let’s be real.

In sharing each other’s suffering, my friends and I have been deeply comforted as we dreamed together of what forever and finally free will be like. What it will be like to be fully restored and at rest in the arms of Christ. 

In other words, we can’t shut up about heaven. We’re stoked to go home. 

Think heaven will be boring? I used to. Puffy clouds, cherubs, harps and all that. Harps are pretty rad, but I had no glimmer of joy in my expectation of heaven. On top of that, no one really talked about it. I only started caring when I realized my heart could break and I’m not who I thought I was and life just stinks, some days. 

But think about it: the creator of joy and laughter and shimmering oceans and, well, pepto-bismol pink flamingos, also created heaven. We have a lot to look forward to. And, we have a lot we could talk about. 

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes,
and death shall be no more, 
neither shall there be mourning, 
nor crying, 
nor pain anymore, 
for the former things have passed away. // Revelation 21:3-4

Just think about it: There will be no more pain. No. More. Pain! This means … 

No more grief, no loss, no hunger. 
No more shootings. No racism, sexism, homophobia. 
No more struggles with singleness, marriage, friendships, sexuality.  
No more addictions. 
No more mental illness. 
No more cancer, or other illnesses. 
No more papercuts, stubbed toes, acne, bad breath. Etc. 

What are your biggest pain points right now? Perhaps your own sin, or the sin you see around you? Let your heart be encouraged - these things will pass away, because on the cross Jesus purchased our freedom, our hope for heaven. One day, He’ll give us a warm welcome, with arms open wide. We’ll be with Him in paradise, like the criminal on the cross - unworthy to be called His, but loved, forgiven and heaven-bound in spite of ourselves (Luke 23:43). 

Some questions about heaven we’ll never find answers to in the bible. Like, will there be ice-cream, or laser tag? But, it’d do our souls some good to look upward, with our hearts set towards eternity. Jesus prepared a place for us (John 14:2), and our hearts cannot possibly imagine all He has in store for those who love Him (1 Corinthians 2:9). But, we’re free to imagine nonetheless!

Now, here’s what I want you to do: Go, geek out about heaven. Look up verses about it. Ask your friends what they imagine heaven will be like. Ask a lot of questions. Remind each other that in dark seasons, when hope seems hard to find, belief in Jesus means we can breathe:

One day, one glorious day, it will all be over. We will be home.

This week’s post is written by Becca Wellan, a member at Redeemer who makes bomb mac n’ cheese, constantly shows everyone pictures of her (very adorable) niece, and doesn’t actually quit everything. 

I’m a world class, A+, allstar quitter. Just hand me a shimmering gold trophy, a tye-dye tee-shirt and one of those awful generic coffee mugs (for my collection, of course). Let me just say, I’m a rockstar:

I quit swim lessons. Gymnastics. Ballet. Guitar. Piano. Climbing trees. Riding my bike. Skateboarding. Choir. Photography. I quit sports before I even started. I would’ve quit my education after high school, if my parents didn’t make me to go to college. Apparently they knew I had it in me. Apparently, they were right. But I could’ve studied education, human services or psychology; I quit before I started. 

I’ve spent my life on the dusty sidelines. Some people find it (or, me?) boring. But it’s a comfort thing, really. A second-hand savior from the crushing mental weight of failure, embarrassment, disappointment. Soon after trying something new, I give up when it gets too difficult or when, let’s face it, I’m just pretty awful. Or, I quit before I even start. 

You know, I’ve always believed, fiercely, that my worth is directly tied to how good I am at doing “fill-in-the-blank-with-just-about-anything-and-you’ve-got-me.” Identity struggles have always hit me hard, very hard, even leading to times of mild depression. And sometimes, giving up seems like the easiest, safest option. There is no razor-sharp pain in quitting. There are no scars. 

I can’t be the only one who’s felt this way. 

Can I tell you something wonderful? Something that, if we fully embrace it, will transform how we see the quitter inside us (trust me, it’s in all of us): 

Jesus. Never. Quit. 

Jesus didn’t quit while He hung on the cross, even though He could have.

Before time began, God had a plan to bring a messy bunch of broken, rebellious, hard-hearted people (who will give up all the time, by the way) into the greatest joy imaginable; forever spent in glorious heaven, where there will be no more pain and no more crying (Revelation 21:4). Where they will be finally free. Free from the suffering that will surround them in a sin-stained existence. 

But His plan included excruciating pain. Pain encompassing all the suffering anyone who trusts in Him will ever feel. 

He knew it, too. Before He was captured by Roman guards, He asked His Father if it’d be possible to quit, as fear and anguish gripped Him so hard He sweat drops of blood (Luke 22:44). But with you on His mind, He “set his face towards Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51). There, He hung from a cross, the weight of all your sin crushing Him hard, enduring the punishment that should have been yours. 

He set His face towards Jerusalem, determined. He “endured the cross,” because of “the joy that was set before Him” (Hebrews 12:1-2). Part of the joy set before Him was this: He knew that by His death and resurrection, He would save you. You’d finally be free from the haunting of hell, because on that night He would take your hell so you could have His heaven.

Nothing, not even the scorching flames of hell, would keep Him from running to come grab you in your mess and say “Do not fear! I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are mine!!” (Isaiah 43:1). 

But what if He gave up? What if He said, “she’s not worth the pain” or “he doesn’t deserve to be free”? 

Then our worth really would be directly tied to how good we are at “things” because this world is the the only thread we’d have to cling to. If He gave up on us, the love-shaped hole inside us would gape open until we die and spend eternity tortured. Either guilt would eat us alive or pride would blind us like a scorching sun and we’d arrive in hell with bloodied knees and unhealed wounds. 

But we can breathe, because Jesus didn’t quit. We can live, because Jesus didn’t quit. We have hope, unbreakable, because Jesus didn’t quit. 

Jesus never quit, so we are free.  

Because we have this truth to cling to, because Jesus took the punishment for all the times we quit, all the times we place our identity in our performance, there is no condemnation for us (Romans 8:1). Why do we condemn ourselves? 

We are no less valuable to God, whether we give up or become the best-ever at “fill-in-the-blank-with-something-awesome.” We are no less important because we don’t have the same talents, degrees, jobs or intellects our friends have. Our value is fixed, because we are given value simply by being His kids. No amount of talent or skill can change that. No amount of giving up can change that. 

The more I soak in the fact that Jesus didn’t quit on me, the more I’ve learned that it’s okay to sit on the dusty sidelines. I’ve also learned that it’s okay to try and fail. It’s okay to not be everything I think I should be. I don’t have to bear the mental weight of failure, embarrassment, disappointment. Why?

Our identity cannot ever be “failure,” even if we fail. Our identity cannot ever be “quitter,” even if we quit. And as we try and fail, or do not try at all, we can rest because this world is not all we have to hope in. 

“... and I’ll never, ever have to be afraid. For this one thing remains; Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me.” // One Thing Remains, Jesus Culture.