This week’s post is by Becca Wellan. A volunteer at Redeemer and full-time nanny (aka: superhero).

Be thankful.

I have a pretty good guess at what you’re thinking: It’s not Thanksgiving yet.

I am notorious (in my own head, anyway) for associating certain emotions and concepts with specific holidays. I can’t be the only one. The word Immanuel means “God with us.” The word Immanuel also makes me want to hang up Christmas lights. And I can make a good guess at what song is playing in your head right now (does this mean I’m psychic?).

I do this with the word “thankful.” Maybe you do too. I think of cozy sweaters, the smell of cinnamon, the laughter of friends and family as we eat ridiculous amounts of food, and the pumpkin cheesecake I make us each year that never turns out right. Ever.

Last night, I went for a walk with my dear friend and roommate, Kyla. Actually, she was longboarding and I was panting like a lost puppy trying to keep up with her.

“Hey Becca,” she called out, roughly two miles ahead of me. “Let’s do the thankfulness ABC’s.”

… but it’s not Thanksgiving, goofus.

I just laughed and went along with it. We were thankful for everything, from “Apples” to “Zaaa! For pizzaaaa.” Our conversation was a fun, silly exercise but it got us talking. How would our hearts change if we started to actively cultivate a daily awareness of the wonder and blessing from God in our lives?

When we aren’t thankful, our hearts may grow cold and we may not see just how truly, deeply, unbelievably blessed we are. A thankful heart opens your eyes to blessings in your life that, let’s be real, may go unnoticed as real-life tears at your skin and threatens to steal your joy.  
 

This year, I’ve cried my fair share of ocean tears. I’ve learned that on Christ the solid rock I stand, sit, lay down and cry. So have you, in one way or another. 2016 has been an incredibly trying year for many in my Redeemer family. We’ve been heartbroken, individually and collectively.

In the midst of deep hurt and sorrow, God pours out His love in abundance. What if we started to notice it and talk about it? The bible encourages a thankfulness that runs deeper than circumstance, rooted in the goodness of Jesus and everything that He has already done for us.

...giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. // Colossians 1:12-14

We can praise God, always, because He already rescued us from the domain of darkness. Even when we feel darkness surround us, it’s not our home anymore. Darkness isn’t our identity. We are redeemed, forgiven, and qualified to party in heaven one day, where He promises to remove all sorrow, pain, and death forever (Revelation 21:4). Until then, we have a God who promises to never leave us, no matter what battles we may face (Deuteronomy 31:6).

So what are you thankful for?

I am thankful for:

• A brand new awareness of my weakness and sin that has driven me deeper into the arms of Christ.
• A God who calls me His cherished, forgiven, deeply loved daughter, in spite of me.
• My friends who have extended their forgiveness, even though it was undeserved. Who sat with me and let me be broken. Who reminded me of the gospel when I couldn’t remind myself. Who gave me their wisdom, and food (I love food).
• My beloved church family at Redeemer. Even all the nerds in my Gospel Community. I love you all.

The list could run for miles. 

Let’s be a community who together recognize and talk about the power of Christ at work in the mundane, the suffering, and the joy that life brings.

So, what are you thankful for?

It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name O Most High, to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night. // Psalm 92:1.

 

This week's blog was written by Theresa Adams, a wife and mother who loves to tap dance. 

The other night my little family of four trooped down to the beach in search of a sunset. And sunset we got. God did not disappoint. His handiwork was all over the sky and the water reflecting below. As we sat, okay my husband and I sat while our boys bouldered and climbed, gazing on His Glory there was a Heron not far away. It was so still it almost looked as though it had been placed there by a sculptor for our viewing pleasure. The sun was behind it just so that it was a still silhouette unmoving yet full of grace. As the sun continued to dip and the horizon played with yellows and pinks, still the Heron stood. It paid no attention to the voices calling out in loud delight (our kids) nor to the never ending bark of the delighted dog in the surf (not ours). It simply just was. Whether it was asleep, getting ready to eat, or also admiring the view, I'll never know. But, what I do know is that I could learn a thing of two from the Heron. I could learn how to "just be" amidst the countless distractions and chaos of the world around me. I could find out how to still be full of grace even as the circumstances around me shift and swirl.

 A verse that is often read on well-meaning magnets and wall hangings is Psalms 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God."  Synonyms of the word, still include motionless, stationary, immobile. "Rooted to the spot, as if turned to stone." That would lead us to believe that "being still" is a passive state requiring very little of us. I am pretty sure that those of us who've gone through any season requiring us to be still know that the act of being still is a very involved and engaging place to be. To intentionally choose to "just be" in the season you are in. To not look ahead to what is next and to not be fill up the present. There is nothing passive about guarding your time or safekeeping the now. Maybe it's just me, but I find being still a difficult place to be. In this fast-paced-busy-is-best-time we find ourselves living in it almost goes against our nature. It certainly goes against our culture.

This particular season of being still that I find myself in is new to me. Both of my boys, whom I've stayed home with since they were born, are now in school full-time. It's something I've long anticipated, but now that it's upon me I'm not quite sure how to navigate it. I am continually met with questions and comments such as "What are you going to do with all of your spare time? Are you going to be getting a job? Wow, that must be so nice!"  Yes, it is nice, okay some days is downright lovely,  but the thing is I don't have an answer to those other questions. And that is by design. But at times, when peppered by inquiring minds, I can forget the intentionality behind not knowing. And at times whether it's my insecurity or the fear of being looked down on for not having a plan or because I'm not able to satisfy other people's curiosity I can forget that my security isn't in what I do or don't do. I can get amnesia about where my identity lies. It's then when I'm misplacing my identity, which I start to justify my choices, or I elaborate on what I do with my time. Anyone?

The thing that I have to preach to myself time and time again is that my identity is rooted in what God has said who I am in Christ. It doesn't matter what anyone else says. Even well-meaning friends or dearly loved family doesn't get to decide who I am.  When you are in a season of being still whether you are there due to a self-induced prescription while learning the art of saying "no" or whether you are there because that is where God has placed you, and you don't know for what reason or for how long, it's almost as if you have to get used to the silence. 

You need time to grow accustomed to the pace or rather a lack of. To slow your thinking from constantly looking ahead and re-learn how to look at the now with fondness and thanksgiving. To remember that who you are has worth. No matter what you do. No matter how much you make. Regardless of where you live or what you study or how you score. No matter how full or free, your calendar is. Our identity and our security are not tethered to what we do or don't do.

 If I could imagine what that Heron had running through his or her mind as it stood there on the beach, I suppose it wasn't much. I don't suppose it was preoccupied with its identity as a Heron being linked to his movement.  I don't think it cared whether others thought it was insignificant because it wasn't busy being busy and I don't believe it was thinking ahead to the next season of life and how it couldn't wait to be done standing on that rock. I am fairly certain it wasn't even making a plan for how to get off of that rock. It simply just was where it was. Easier said than done, but let's not rush past it or dismiss it. 

Let's try, rather, to embrace the in-between. Look to being still as a gift of rest or quiet or refreshment. No matter why you end up there or no matter how long you find yourself there I hope that you, and me, can find enjoyment in simply being still.

This week's post by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He likes music, words, and words about music.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote on listening to sermons, about being attentive to what God is speaking through His Word and how to work towards getting the most out of it. As a part of that post, I touched on my fondness for paper Bibles. Specifically my paper Bible with rips, creases and coffee stains accumulated over nearly a decade of use.

It reminded me how much I love things I can feel.

We live in a world of automation, of comfort and ease. If you don’t own, don’t want to carry, or just straight up forgot a paper Bible on a Sunday, you can downIoad one to your phone in an instant. Most of the time, if you don’t want to go into the bank you don’t have to, and you can make a transfer in seconds. If you don’t want to read the newspaper, you can jump on the web to get the highlights, curated and tailored to your specific interests. If you don’t want to chop vegetables, you can get a machine that will do it for you, and do it better than you could.

God created us as physical beings to live and interact with physical objects, to create and steward and manage them for His glory and the good of everyone. And yet, it seems to me that we go to great lengths to rid ourselves of these cumbersome physical processes. Or, at least to get physical things that make life easier. I really, really don’t think that’s bad. But I do think we take them for granted, and miss out on opportunities to thank God for His provision.

Telling Stories

At many points in the gospels, we can hear Jesus speak in parables, basically stories with a moral or spiritual lesson. Often, He uses everyday objects and processes as illustrations. He references vine pruning, wine pressing, bird watching, bread baking, fishing, reaping and sowing. These are jobs that, if people didn’t do them themselves, they were at least aware of what they entailed.

Jesus then connects these mundane, arduous, physical processes, and uses them to say something about God and what He's doing.

When I eat bread I know that it tastes good, but I am so far disconnected from the physical process of making it that I completely forget the hours and care and ingredients went into it.

Some friends of mine recently started baking bread the old fashion way, beginning with the starter. They mix flour and water and let it sit for awhile, “feeding” it more flour as the starter expands until finally they have enough leaven to make a couple loaves of bread.

Because they’ve gone through the process of making bread and I haven’t, Jesus saying “The kingdom of heaven is like leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, till it was all leavened”, is going to mean a lot more to them than it is to me. (Matt 13.33)

What We’re "Missing"

So, what am I suggesting? Just that we be mindful people that take the time to understand what we're missing, that know the time and effort it took someone to make what they did and be grateful to God for whatever agony they saved us.

For example, rather than write my own definition of a parable, I used Google to find a definition in about six seconds.

Google is easy, right? Just punch in what you want and see where it takes you. But, what process is that replacing?

Twenty years ago, my parents would have told me to go find a dictionary, which would have taken me a whole five minutes, and if we didn’t have a dictionary or it wasn’t in there, I would have had to ask everyone I knew until I found an answer. If those efforts proved fruitless, I would have had to carefully read all the parables, distill them down to their core elements, and come up with a definition myself. For what it’s worth, I think that process is really fun.

But I don’t have time to do it right now. So. Praise God for Google! He gave someone a vision for what internet searching could be, and gave them the mind to make it.

I’ve got another friend who’s really into woodworking, and he uses all hand tools to do it. One of his earlier projects was to make a workbench, crafted to his exact needs. I don't recall how long it took, but I know it was awhile. He came out the other side of the project with something he was proud of and a greater understanding of woodworking.

My friend loves woodworking. I do not. If I want a workbench, I will go buy a workbench. Shoot, if I want a wooden stool, I'll go buy a wooden stool.

But because of my friend, I would appreciate that stool more, knowing how much time and effort went into it, even if it was a five dollar stool machined by someone in China. Which, as an aside, is also crazy. Because that means someone figured out to make a stool that would cost me five dollars and make enough money to stay in business.

These are all examples of people, made in the image of God, doing what people do, being creators and stewards and managers of the world around them. We don’t always have the best of intentions when we do this, but God gives a lot of grace for our endeavors to work out for the benefit of others.

Being Thankful

I don't think we always have to go through the process of figuring out what we're "missing". Sometimes, we just don't care; we just need to get the thing done and move on. And that's okay.

One thing we should understand, though, is that God Himself didn't just send His Son to save us from an inconvenience, but from an impossibility.

The debt we owe for our sin is so great that no amount of mere human toil could overcome or pay it back. Jesus lived perfectly, died sacrificially, and rose victoriously for people who were and are unaware of what they owe apart from Christ.

For all of this, let's be marked by a constant gratefulness just to be alive, for the convenience and luxury we often take for granted, and the new life that we have in Jesus.

This week's post is by Ashley Bowie.

In a small upstairs dining room, in a rented space filled with quick glances and a tangible uncertainty the son of God sat breaking bread and praying. Low candles threw shadows around the room and on the faces of the men with Him. Some were afraid, or worried, most were confused. All sat listening intently through the sounds of eating and drinking and light conversation. With one ear to his brother and one ear to the Lord each of them waited. Something was happening, something was about to change. As they waited patiently they looked carefully at one another, Do you know what this is all about? Have you heard what he plans to do? All of them were looking for answers, all of them could feel the tension. All of them but Peter. Peter sat tall and easy. He sought a lively conversation but could not find it among his brothers. He leaned into his meal instead and focused on flavor. He did not notice when Jesus stood and filled a basin with water. He did not see the Son of the Almighty God wrap a servant’s towel around His waist and carry the water to his own feet. He did not notice until his feet were in the hands of Jesus and it became appallingly clear what He intended to do.

“Lord do you wash MY feet?” This was a job for the lowly, a disobedient servant, a young or very new servant. Certainly not a job for the great teacher, and not at all a thing for God himself to do. He could not allow it, Peter would do anything to serve the Lord and had said so, planned to say so again. I will die for you Lord. He rehearsed in his mind again. No this would not do. Maybe he would stand so Jesus could not wash his feet, or call on his fellow disciples to say something sensible.

“If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.” Jesus said patiently, with an eternity of longing in His voice. Peter softened, his bravado deflated. Above all, he must be with the Lord forever. Of all the things he had ever wanted, of all the paths in life he had tried, following Jesus had been the only right. If He says I am not clean then I will let Him wash me, he reasoned. If cleanliness is what he wants, then I want to be totally clean.

“Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Don’t count me out Lord! Clean all of me so I can be with you.

“The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean.”

~

I’ve been talking about the subject of this blog for several weeks now. My friends know that when I get excited about something they can expect to hear about it day and night ad infinitum. It was something of an epiphany that hit me as I was reading through the book of John one morning. Like a flame lit in my heart spreading warmth through me. I’m a little bit more afraid of this little candle than I thought, because as it happens, it’s not just a candle, it’s the consuming fire of a real and consistent face to face relationship with Jesus.

When we think of submission, I would guess that most of us think about doing as we are told by whomever happens to be in authority. We think of bosses or parents, and making good choices when it comes to our spiritual lives. We think of abstaining from sin and doing the good right things that the Lord gives us to do. These are good thoughts about submission, right even, but in the context of John 13 we have this miraculous moment when we are commanded to submit to being served by the Lord.

Sit right there, child you have been walking in the world. You have been living and striving and walking to and fro trying to be a good servant and a faithful child and you have collected the dust and filth of the world on your feet. Let me pour this pure water over your feet and wipe them with this towel white as snow.

I have sinned recently. At the time of this writing I am unwilling to tally up all the ways I have been selfish or careless, cold hearted or have let my words get away from me. I’m sure you understand; you are every bit as human as I am. When I am made aware of my sins, the filth of the world on my feet, I have a tendency to wallow for a few days. Then I try to clean up myself. As though I sit with a gavel in my human hearts court room and lay out a sentence. Do three kind things, say words of encouragement to people who annoy you, read nothing but scripture for a week. I have a friend who says that she “grounds” herself. She feels like she cannot go out with friends or do anything fun.

James chapter 4 says that when we do these things we become judges of the law. As if to say that the plan Jesus laid out for confession and repentance is not enough and we need to add our own items to the list in order to feel clean again.

Repentance will never stop being a part of our lives on this side of eternity. There is always going to be something to be sorry for. No matter how hard you try, you will continue to walk through the world and collect the mess on your feet. True, soul deep repentance puts you face to face with Jesus. As He kneels before you, the one He laid down His life for, the one He paid His own blood for, He looks into your eyes and says “You are already clean, just let me take care of these feet. Thank you for coming to me today because I know that you needed to sit here and confess all the mess you have gotten into, and look there, it is finished.”

This story happens within the framework of the last supper. Jesus’s final communion with His disciples included a teaching on confession and repentance. It should be often and intentional that we come to have our feet washed. And when He has washed their feet He gives us this command; John 13:14-15 “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you.”

I think most of us repent in solitude because we don’t want others to know just how bad we are. I really hate to imagine what people would think of me if they knew how selfish I can be sometimes, or how angry I can get if things don’t meet my expectations. But here we have the example of Jesus; we are not to come to one another with superiority or with any of our own judgments on the law. We are to come with a servant’s towel and humble knees. It is messy to live in the world my friend, and I don’t want you to be slowed down by thorns or a collection of dirt. So let me help you, let me pray with you and we can walk on together.

Isaiah 52:7 “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your GOD reigns!”

This week's post was written by Theresa Adams who is constantly trying to convince herself that tea is just as good as coffee.

In the last few years we have had to sit down with our two boys, multiple times, to share with them that people near and dear were no longer going to be married. We've also experienced a lock-down at my son's elementary school. We've known people who have passed away and others who have battled life threatening illnesses. And this is just what our little family of four has encountered. The world at large is full of broken marriages, hurting people, dangers and uncertainty. As a mama who has two little ones, which means my heart lives outside of my body, there can be much to cause fear. Much to cause anxiety. Much that could overwhelm us.

It would be great if they made life-sized bubbles for our kiddos so that we could shield them from all of the brokenness and messiness they will encounter here on earth. But since that isn't an option what are we to do? How to shield them and let them experience it all so that when they go out into the world, as an adult. they will know how to comfort those in the brokenness rather than add to it? How to insulate them from all the negative? How to do so without your own fear being a burden upon their childhood? How to teach them that being courageous is sometimes more important than being safe? How to prepare them for life so they won't come running back to us and live in our basements? Unfortunately they will not encounter another way until they are rejoicing in heaven. Only then will their tears finally be wiped away. Then there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. Until that time there are all of the above and more.

This whole living in fear thing is new to me. Growing up and in my young adult life I was mildly void of fear. Spontaneity beckoned me and I typically answered without much thought or concern of what could or couldn't happen. I hitchhiked and went on solo trips across country all without a cellphone (least you think that was on account of bravery let me just be honest and say it was because they hadn't been invented yet.) I threw myself off of cliffs into the water below just for the thrill of it. Now, since becoming a mother, I get nervous and clammy driving over high bridges or when my kids get too close to the edge of a ledge overlooking the water below. Even though said ledge towers above them and there is literally no foreseeable way they could fall in. Still clammy. Still sometimes hold onto the hood of my youngest least a sea creature from down below were to leap up and decide he'd make a tasty treat. Okay, maybe not that last one so much but you can see how easily it is to be dwarfed by the umbrella of "what-if's." And these are just for the run-of-the-mill fears. Not the life threatening "what-ifs" about contracting a life-threatening disease or coming into a life-threatening situation simply when going throughout your day It, again, really does make the kid-in-a-bubble thing sound not so bad.

It's all too much. There is too much to fear and there is too much that could go wrong. But if we let fear win then we are going to miss out on too much joy. Too much love. Too much spontaneity and too much good. Life is hard enough as it is that we don't need to be saddled down by any additional weight of worry or anxiety or distress. What is a mama to do other than to spend time on her knees and trust the One who gave her those that cause her heart to live outside of her body. What can we do but believe and trust Him when he says:

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9

We can also remember we have a choice to live each day one day at a time. Not looking too far ahead but rather just soaking up the moment and the gift that it is. Maybe it's just me, but I don't want fear to get an inch more than it deserves. It has it's place and it is a good emotion to have when, say, you run into a grizzly bear. But day in and day out I want my emotions to know that I'm in charge and I want to model that for my children.

Fear often is nothing more than an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous. In most cases it isn't even an actuality it's just a possibility. These ones we are raising up are going to need all the braveness they can muster.  They who take their cues from us. They look to us before they have a reaction. They cry harder if we gasp when they fall. They look more triumphant after seeing our smile. They need to know that we think they've got this. They also need to know that we've got this and that in the times when we don't that we  have someone to turn to who will never falter. Never leave. Never change. They need to know that we will keep trusting in the One who holds us all in the palm of His hands. They need to know that we will keep crying out on our knees for the courage and peace and love only He can provide to keep the fear it it's place.

"Steps unseen before me,

Hidden dangers near;

Nearer still my Savior,

Whispering, "Be of cheer"

Joys, like birds of springtime,

To my heart have flown,

Singing all so sweetly,

                                                                               "He will not leave me alone"

 

This blog is written by Becca Wellan. Nanny for two littles. Caffeine addict. Child of God.

Things that stress me out: Bees, balloons, and house hunting.

The past few weeks, I’ve been singing The Renters Blues to myself as I scroll through Craigslist every five minutes. But hey, who’s counting? Apparently the availability rate in Bellingham is 1% right now. Pour me a glass of that sweet tea, wouldya honey? I made it with the lemons life gave me.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. Just a little. But hey, finding a new place, ideally with some walls and a roof, is pretty high on my “adulting” list now that I bought a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

Since I moved out of my parents to go to Western, I’ve searched for a place to live each year. A place of rest and refuge; where I feel safe. A place filled up with laughter, shared tears, and welcoming arms. A place I can feel at home.

As I’ve wrestled through some emotionally rough patches these past few months, I’ve come to realize that my search for home goes much deeper than just finding some walls, a roof, and a lease sign.

Since I could breathe, my soul has been aching for home. It’s at the core of who I am. It’s how I’m wired. The grace I’ve found in these last few months is that I’ve been forced to re-think where I’m trying to find it.

If you are human (if you can read this, I’m 98% certain you are), you naturally long to feel safe. You desire to be fully known, flaws and all, yet be fully accepted. To be comforted, and deeply loved. To have stability and consistency. When you find this, you find home. That’s how God wired you.

Since I could breathe, my soul has been aching for this kind of home. And, I always find it in relationships. This is not always a bad thing. Community and deep friendships are some of the most beautiful gifts God gives us. God’s people, though sinful, are His presence in a broken world. I fully believe that.

But here’s the catch:

People aren’t always there for you when you need them. People make stupid decisions that break your heart. People will forget about you, they will back out on their plans with you. They will hurt you, even with the best intentions. And, there is always the gut-wrenching chance they will leave you.  

The problem is that I find myself banking on other people to come through for me, every time I need them. I need their comforting words, their reassurance, their presence, to feel okay again.

So where do you find home? Who do you depend on to always make you feel safe, to love you completely, to never fail you?

God wired us to long to be loved perfectly, to be deeply connected to a constant anchor when the storms come. But, other people have storms, too.

So why did God wire us this way?

“One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.” // Psalm 27:4-5

We are wired to seek after God’s presence, as long as we live. He is our constant anchor; no one else - no matter how great they are - can be that for us. We are wired to long for His company, to run into His arms when the our storms come. To know Him, and be known by Him.

We truly find home when our desire for home is met in Christ Jesus. It’s what we were designed for. Only through believing in Him can we be fully known yet fully accepted. Only in Him can we find true comfort. Only through believing in Him, and living each day resting in His constant, unbreakable friendship, can you come home.

Each day, may our heartcry be, “Lord, may I find my home in you all the days of my life.”

I still don’t have a place to live in the fall. I’ve been making phone calls and looking at property management websites even as I’ve been writing this. But I can put my laptop away and rest, knowing that my greatest need for home has already been met.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” // Matthew 11:28