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 by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He loves words, music, and words about music. And napping.

I love and hate summer.

I love that it’s warm and not hot. I love that people seem to get social all of a sudden, making up for all the time we spent binging on Netflix in January.

But I hate that it’s only July, and I’m wiped out. Our calendar says we’ll be gone the next three weekends. That’s fine with me; I just want sleep, to completely unplug from life in my normal environment and dive into a mountain paper and words. Just for a little bit.

Rest and Community

There’s a time for that. God built the need for rest into the DNA of creation (Genesis 2.1-3, Exodus 20.8-11), and it’s important to recognize that we are finite beings with constraints on our energy and time. We need rest, in the form of days off, vacations, and free evenings. Sometimes, we see Sunday services and small midweek gatherings as impediments to rest. And sometimes they are.

But, at the same time, God has made us family. He knows that we also need one another and as a result places a high importance on meeting together (Hebrews 10.25, for example). However, we often forget our church families or the implications of our absence when we plan for time away.

I’m not at all saying we shouldn’t take vacations, or that we shouldn’t ever miss a Sunday gathering. Again, God knows we need periods of rest, and sometimes that looks like time away and unplugged.

Staying Connected

Even if we’re going to be away for awhile, it’s possible - and important - to stay connected with what’s going on in your church community. That takes a bunch of different forms:

• Pray for everyone serving on a Sunday, for visitors, and for the needs of members of the church.
• Listen to the sermons that you miss. You can find those on the website, or on iTunes.
• Keep in touch with other people in the church to make sure you are aware of how you can be praying for them, and how they can be praying for you. If you’re in town midweek, don’t skimp on meeting if you can help it. (I say this as one often guilty of the “prep skip”).
• Check your notification settings on the City to make sure you’re aware of what’s going on in the ministries you serve in, and contribute to the discussion if you can. (This is specific to Redeemer. If you are part of Redeemer, are not on the City, and want to be, send us an email at info@redeemernw.org, and we’ll get you squared away).

Again, by all means, if you need to unplug completely, do it. Personally, I love camping way outside cell phone range, or just turning my phone off altogether. It just gives my mind a break from all the noise.

Even without being connected by the web, we can still be connected to the life of the church by praying for services and the needs of the people we know.

Ultimately, Jesus struck this balance between rest and engagement flawlessly. We have perfect rest and community in Him, so we don’t have to be afraid or despair the repercussions of our failure.

This definitely is not a call to skip vacation, just a reminder to remember your church while you are vacationing.

This week's post by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He likes words, music, and words about music, and has already had one cup of coffee too many. 

I get angry both too often and not enough.

I get riled up by inconveniences, such as slow internet or getting cut off on the highway.

But I don’t get angry near enough, not well enough, and not at the things I should. I think I’m scared to do that.

We know that God is, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness (Ex 34.36). We know, as well, that He does get angry (Judges 2, Exodus 32.9).

Human anger is scary because, even as it's not always violent, it is imperfect - or, I should say - we’re imperfect. We don’t get mad about what we should, so we have a tendency to think that our anger is inherently bad, and even if it’s righteous, our emotions - or our intellect - can easily lead us into sin; we like to think that we’re the Judge.

While human anger can be scary, it’s nothing compared to God’s anger. When He saw sin and ruin and injustice, He did something about it. He sent His Son for the wicked, and not until He had unleashed His calculated, controlled, perfect, terrifying and righteous wrath on Jesus was His mission “finished”.

We get mercy. And it’s only because our Father understands justice, and gave His Son what we deserve.

Because of the grace we have in Him, we can work for justice, mercy, and grace in this world without fear of the eternal consequences of getting it wrong.

Like Nehemiah, filled with sorrow for Jerusalem’s lack of walls, or Moses’ fury with the nation of Israel as they broke the covenant just as it was instated, we should get angry at the things that the things that make God angry, things that are an affront to His rightful authority, and prayerfully take action.

Again, we should be careful with our anger, even if it's righteous. There may be earthly consequences for taking the wrong action. But there could also be earthly consequences to doing nothing.

So what’s broken around you? Where do you see injustice, hurt, pain, and suffering? Where is justice a joke, where are human rights neglected, where is there a lack of love, of mercy, of compassion?

Ask God to act on behalf of the oppressed, and ask Him to stir your heart and mind toward action.

Pray that you’d be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger. Pray that anger would eventually come, and that your anger would not lead you to sin. (James 1.20, Ephesians 4.26)

Pray that you’d get angry about things that matter, and that we'd work for justice and mercy in this broken world.

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. 

This blog post is by Ashley Bowie, a child really, who loves all the beautiful things; coffee, words, people and birds.

I'm a big fan of Jesus. He's my favorite person. I tell Him all the time how much I love Him, and how grateful I am for what He has done and continues to do for me and on my behalf. Jesus has been my dearest friend. He has laid beside me when I had nothing but tears at the end of the day. He has been the source of my very greatest joys, and the only one I take comfort in when there are no human words for my feelings.

A few days ago I was talking with a friend who is soon to be married. She was talking about pre marital counseling and all of the things she was learning about herself, and how amazing it feels to be chosen in such a special way. She went on to talk about how much more clear it is to her now in this stage of life that Jesus has chosen us, He has decided that we belong to Him, we are His bride. 

Her joy was a beautiful thing to witness, and my heart was overwhelmed. We don't know how desperately we need help until we are helped, we don't know how wonderful love is until we are loved, we don't know the delight in Christ until we recognize that He has chosen us. On the testimony of my friend I could feel the pull on my heart by a God who wanted me to know that I have been chosen. She was simply recounting something she had learned about the wonder of Jesus, and my heart was in full on worship mode toward the king of all kings. 

It reminded me of this moment in scripture;

"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!" (Isaiah 6:1-3)

These angelic beings were standing/flying in the presence of God. He, the great I am, was right there in the middle of the room. They did not say, "Lord you are holy, the whole earth is full of your glory." They were calling out to one another, declaring to one another the greatness of our God. 

The account goes on to say that Isaiah stands there in the midst of them and becomes convicted of his sin. One of the seraphim takes a coal from the altar to cleanse him and two sentences later he is volunteering to take the message of God to the people of Israel. 

How powerful, the testimony of the beloved of God! We tell Jesus all the time that we love Him, we thank God for His mercy and His plan. But there is something special about declaring these truths to one another. I can tell you a lot of things about Jesus, miracles He did, stories He told, and social rules that He stomped all over. These things are wonderful, and certainly full of truth, but when it comes to the human heart, the experience of Love transcends facts. To witness this Love radiating out from another person is more powerful than any lesson on Jesus. 

One of my greatest joys that comes from having a community of faith is hearing about the greatness of our good Father. As we gather, let us not be shy of telling the great things God has done. He comforts us in sorrow, He lifts us up with joy, He counsels us in times of confusion, and He is the Holy God who holds the universe from beginning to end. As we call out to one another the goodness of God, our hearts respond in worship, repentance, and desire to carry out the will of heaven on earth. 

I've heard it said, that God does not need our worship, rather we desperately need to worship God. Perhaps as we tell one another about the greatness of God there will be those in our midst who hear and are drawn to the Father, whose hearts will swell when they hear the call of one son or daughter to another and long to be a part of that family.

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

Showing up. Getting into it. How much about this do any of us really get?

How do we turn up for someone when they are in a crisis? When they are suffering?

Showing up can be hard, messy, difficult, uncomfortable, and did I say hard? When you purposefully choose to meet someone in a difficult place it is anything but simple.

You may question yourself, fend off insecurities and wonder what you did that day that made you sound like an idiot/uncaring/self-absorbed person. Showing up is something that all of us, no matter the stage of life we are in, will one day experience.

We will either make the choice to show up or we will need people to show up for us. Maybe it's just me, but I'd like to be a lot better at giving and receiving so that when the time comes I won't be immobilized. I won't think that they have people closer to them that have it. I won't allow the lack of relationship to hold me back. Nor, when I find myself in need for me or my family, will I freeze and not know how to welcome them in. I've already done that.

Opening Up

For years it seemed like my family was living in lean times. People close to us knew. It was obvious that my husband lost his job. That we weren't able to join in when people went on fun outings or out to dinner. We always wore the same clothes. We kept the smiles plastered to our faces. The thing about being in hard times was that we knew it was hard. We were living it. We didn't want to spend any time talking about it. We didn't want it to get more airtime than it deserved. We thought that if we kept the smile in place and the questions at bay that the difficult time we were enduring would be easier to live with.

And that worked. For a time.

Until, finally, I just had to get it out. To admit how hard it was to not even be able to buy toothpaste. To admit how humbling it was to be at the food bank. And once I started letting people in and sharing how tough of a place it truly was to be losing our home, to know we didn't know where we were going to go, to know we just wanted to be able to celebrate Christmas with our kids then things started feeling a bit easier.

Nothing changed in our day to day circumstances, mind you. We still had the same amount in our bank account but it became a little easier to breath. People who had been watching us from afar were invited closer. They were relieved to be able to "do something”. They loved on us in countless ways from listening, to anonymous checks in the mail, to providing housing for us, to providing Christmas for our family.

By letting people in our tanks, which had been on empty, were suddenly overflowing. Those full-to-the-brim tanks enabled us to continue on, to be encouraged, fueling us for the remainder of that tough season.

So, may I just encourage you that if you are in a hard place it is completely okay to let people in on it. There is no bravery in keeping it to yourself. There is no gold star at the end for being stoic. It is, rather, a sign of courage to let others in. To invite them into the trenches. To have them mourn alongside you. They won't always get it right, but it's far better than going at it alone.

Showing Up

At times we will find ourselves not on the receiving end, but on the end where we want to give. We want to show up, but we aren't sure how. We say "Let me know if I can do anything" but often that blanket offer of help can be overwhelming to those hearing it. They may not even know what their needs are much less how you can help. Here are a couple of things that just might help us know to to show-up a little better.

Pray.

Seems obvious, right? But so often when our people are going through something difficult we want to do something tangible for them. Something more that "just" pray. Or sometimes the stuff our people are going through is long. We pray for a while and then we sense their situation will be one of long suffering and we give up on prayer for we don't see any relief. coming their way. Prayer can not only equip us to show up better it can also work on behalf of our people. It is a way that God has given us to give our burdens over to Him. He doesn't always answer according to our timeline nor according to our wishes, but each time we lift up a prayer to Him He is hearing it with fresh ears. He never tires of our requests, so why should we?

Meals.

Another obvious one, right? I think we all know that meals can be a huge way we can show up for people. Whether they've had a baby, are going through a divorce, just received a difficult diagnosis or lost someone dear to them, no matter what it is they are eventually going to need to eat. And not having to think about planning or preparing said meal can be a huge relief.

If cooking isn't your jam then think gift cards which can be an immense blessing. Or try bringing breakfast foods instead of a dinner. Someone dear to me was going through chemo and she said one way she was shown great love was when others brought their kids sack lunches. Sandwiches, fruit, cheese, maybe a juice box. Brilliant. Helpful. And no culinary degree required.

Keep in mind if there may be many people contributing meals so an excessively large meal is not necessary as there will also be many leftovers. This is not something I've ever thought about before, but my “Showing Up Adviser” told me how much time and energy it can take to package, freeze or store the leftovers.

Don't Ask. Just Do.

When I asked my person who had fought cancer what advice she would offer to those wanting to help, her sage advice was "If you really want to help, don't ask. Kindly, but firmly say what it is you are going to come help with. For example: ‘I would like to come over and clean your bathrooms, or do your laundry or clean up your kitchen. What is a good day for me to do this?’. The person probably feels physically pretty crummy and discouraged about how much they can't do, but human nature makes it really hard for us to accept the offer of help. But when a friend says, ‘I love you and I am coming to do this for you’… that's a gift."

These suggestions are not exhaustive by any means. But they are a start for when we know we want to show up but have no idea where to begin.

I think an important piece of the puzzle is to remember you won't get it right every time. You don't need to have the polished words, the perfect verse or the best cup of coffee. Sometimes you just need to be there. To listen. To not say anything at all or to just simply sit in silence.

Regardless of how you show up or how others show up for you it's the love behind it that really stands out.