Smudgy Stains

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Margaret

Little Emerald is 11 months now, and though she can’t talk, she’s been communicating the same message since she began crawling a few weeks ago: “Clean your floors, Grandma Midgee.”

Taking advantage of her new mobility, she’s been investigating every corner of my cottage on hands and knees, a cleaning crew of one. But instead of swinging a broom or swiping a Swiffer, she just uses her clothes.

This morning while Birgitta was at school, Emerald and I worked on several projects in the basement. Although I sat her down next to a bin of toys, she quickly flipped to mobile-mode, resuming her floor-cleaning program. In just a few minutes her hands, knees and toes were black with who-knows-what, and at that point we abandoned the basement and headed upstairs to clean up.

Until Emerald began crawling, I had no idea my floors were as dirty as they were. It took “contaminating her” to let me know.

Isn’t that similar to what Jesus did for our filthy sins?

While on the cross, he willingly “crawled through” the sin-contamination of all mankind, letting every sin from every person, past, present and future, dirty him through and through. Scripture tells us he “became” our sin. How can we not sit up and take notice of how dirty he became, just so we wouldn’t have to be?

Then, after Jesus rose from the dead, everything changed. He conquered sin and therefore could become pure again himself, as he had been before he picked up all our filth. His suffering was “once for all,” after which he could freely offer an eternal clean slate to all of us.

So then why do we continue to suffer from guilt over our own sin? It’s because we’re shocked by the blackness of it, just like I was surprised to see Emerald’s filthy clothes. But as we turn from our “dirty deeds” and ask forgiveness, recommitting ourselves to live for Christ, God no longer sees our dark smudges, all because of Jesus. Our sins have been deep-sixed into the sea, and we can enjoy release from the heavy darkness of guilt. What a beautiful cleansing system our Lord has!

I lay my sins on Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all and frees us from every guilty load.
I bring my guilt to Jesus, to wash my crimson stains
White in His blood most precious, ‘til not a spot remains.

(Horatius Bonar)

I’ve made a concentrated effort to get the dirty stains out of Emerald’s pink clothes, but even my best scrub brush and a combination of chemicals have left telltale smudges related to the blackness that used to be.

How glorious that when Jesus goes about forgiving even the darkest of sins, he does it all the way to spotless.

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” (Isaiah 1:18)

I lay my sins on Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God;

He bears them all and frees us from every guilty load.

I bring my guilt to Jesus, to wash my crimson stains

White in His blood most precious, ‘til not a spot remains.

(Horatius Bonar)

Extravagant Giving

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Margaret

I love the word “lavish”. Even the definition is fun to read: open-handed benevolence; giving in great amounts without limit; generosity occurring in profusion; abundance poured out.

The word originally comes from Latin, lavare, which means “to wash, as in a downpour of rain.”

Although “lavish” is used in Scripture only a handful of times, God’s lavishness threads through the Bible in his actions. That’s still true today, and I’ve kept a journal detailing the lavish blessings he’s rained down on our family over the years, an effective antidote for any ingratitude that might creep in.

The road-map to God’s lavish provision often looks something like this:

A need appears.
We attempt to meet it.
Our attempts fail, and the need increases.
We try harder to meet it.
The need escalates to crisis level.
We realize we can’t meet it and turn to God for rescue.
He meets the need lavishly.

A perfect example took place when Nate was battling his cancer and fading fast. Our 7+2+2 children had come from far and wide to be with their father, all except Hans who lived with his family in England. Visa problems and UK re-entry issues made a trip to the States impossible. The story of God’s lavish provision is written up in a blog from that time. (Then God stepped in!)

It seems God relishes opportunities to pour “a profusion of generosity” on his children and is watching us for two things: a willingness to (1) trust him, and a determination to (2) wait for him. We say, “Oh, that’s easy!” when in reality the opposite is true. Both are difficult and take repeated practice.

God knows we struggle to trust and then wait, so he details a variety of examples in his Word, showing how good it can be. One of these (taught in every Sunday School) is the feeding of the 5000. While growing up I viewed this as a nice miracle Jesus did so those he was teaching wouldn’t have to leave the meeting for dinner. Of course there was much more to it.

Just before that big picnic, Scripture tells us Jesus and the disciples had been so busy, they hadn’t even had time to eat. We don’t know how many meals they’d missed, but surely their stomachs were growling when Jesus suggested they separate themselves from the multitude so they could rest (and presumably eat). When the crowds continued to follow, their hope for rejuvenation evaporated.

But fast-forward to the other end of the miraculous feeding that satisfied every appetite, and we see 12 full baskets of extra food, one per disciple. Jesus caused it to work out exactly that way (another miracle) not just to provide for their next meal. He wanted to use the leftovers to make an important point:

“Trust me with your needs, men; then wait expectantly, and I guarantee you’ll see what ‘lavish’ looks like, every time.”

“They all ate as much as they wanted, and afterward, the disciples picked up twelve baskets of leftover bread and fish.” (Mark 6:42-43)

Ok. You lead.

Posted on September 11, 2013 by Margaret

When our Nelson was two years old, he was dynamite, and I wasn’t the best mother for this headstrong, impulsive child, being a first-timer with no experience. For example, I remember one day when the two of us visited my aunt for lunch. She lived in a high-rise building on a busy four-lane street. After lunch, as we walked outside, little Nelson (who loved cars and trucks) saw the whizzing traffic and made a bee-line for the street.

“Nelson!” I shouted. “NELSON!” But he was a boy on a mission, passionate about pursuing his own plan, and didn’t look back. Dropping my bags and racing after him, I could see he was going to get to the street before I could get to him, and I was desperate to stop him.

Nate and I had tried to teach this little boy about the dangers of traffic. We’d done our best to lead him sensibly, counting on him to trust our wisdom over his own. But as all two year olds know, their personal agendas trump parental ones.

But what about us adults? Are we any different in our dealings with God? What does it take for us to set our own plans aside and sincerely say to him, “Ok. You lead.”

It’s very possible God sees us as we see our children. He has the ability to teach us how to live well and lead us one step at a time in that direction. And since he’s God, there’s no question his leadership is superior to ours. Despite that, though, we often choose to do our own thing rather than his.

None of us would argue with the idea that God is a fabulous leader, not just of individuals but also of families, churches, businesses, and governments. We can find a variety of scriptural examples showing us what happens when people follow his lead and what happens when they don’t.

“See those?” he says. “So how ’bout we do it my way?” And yet we still refuse.

It’s not that we doubt him as a leader. We all know he has both the ability and the longing to direct us perfectly. The problem comes with his one prerequisite: surrendering self-management. And even a two year old can tell you, that doesn’t come easy.

When Nelson was dashing pell-mell toward high speed traffic, I was frantic to stop him before he got hit by a car. All I could think to do was shout the only word I knew might stop him:

“CANDY!”

Nelson heard it, stopped at curb, and turned in my direction. It was just enough time for me to arrive and grab him, the perfect case of my leadership being superior to his. Surrendering his personal car-truck agenda for my candy-plan gave him the best outcome by far.