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Faith Life

But The Greatest Of These Is Love

Love’s redeeming work is done, fought the fight, the battle won. Death in vain forbids him rise, Christ has opened paradise. ~Charles Wesley

Mel Sunrise

What Wondrous Love

To shame our sins He blushed in blood;

He closed His eyes to show us God;

Let all the world fall down and know

That none but God such love can show.

~Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153)

Lent is not a season of deprivation, but a return to love’s true source.

With those words we began a long lenten look at 1 Corinthians 13. In French, the word lent means slow, and for some of us slow grates. We are trained to look for quick results and stunning progress, but the journey to love takes time.

The path–with boulders to be climbed, and brambles that tear at the fabric of our confidence, and whispers on the breeze that we are fools to try–offers no short-cuts.

When the Easter hymns have faded and the chocolate eggs all been consumed, don’t forget: you were made for the hard work of Love. To let yourself be loved, and to pour out your life in love, and it is the most difficult thing you will ever attempt, and the one thing you will never achieve, unless you cling with all your might to Love Himself.

  • Do you doubt you are loved? Remember the Cross.
  • Do you feel powerless to love others? Remember the empty tomb.
  • Do you fear the cost that comes with love? Jesus says, “I am with you always, to the end of he age.”

Finish, then, thy new creation;
pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation
perfectly restored in thee;
changed from glory into glory,
till in heaven we take our place,
till we cast our crowns before thee,
lost in wonder, love, and praise.

 ~Charles Wesley

Photograph by Melanie Hunt
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Good Friday: A Scandalous Grace

He breaks the power of canceled sin, he sets the prisoner free. His blood can make the foulest clean; His blood availed for me. ~ Charles Wesley

A Scandalous Grace

By Annie McPeak

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I don’t really know what I’d expected.  She was only five feet tall, if that, as she emerged from her cell.  Her body was bent under a weight as she shuffled forward, her gaze fixed downward.  When she finally looked up, I recognized her from the six o’clock news.

She was the one who’d thrown her two small children off the bridge and was nearly ready to jump when a passerby tackled her.

I’d been told the other chaplains were “too busy” to visit.  She sat emotionless, eyes downcast, as I wondered what kind of monster throws her own children to their death.  Looking up tearfully, she finally spoke.  “Chaplain, I’m a Christian.  I know what God thinks of murderers.  I’m going to rot in hell, aren’t I?”

Was this a question or pronouncement?

What could I say?  God would have to give me a reason to speak grace. “Well…” I hesitated, still wrestling with the horror of such evil, “what does the Bible say?”

Her voice was monotone.  “Revelation talks about murderers being thrown in a fiery lake.”

I knew the Scripture, and at that moment such judgment seemed justified.

Suddenly, a picture of the criminal on the cross beside Jesus flashed through my mind.  He’d humbly admitted his mistakes and asked Jesus to remember him.  I reminded her that Jesus said the thief would be with Him that day in Paradise though he couldn’t undo his sins.

A tear dropped to her hands below.

After several silent moments, she asked, “When I die and have to face my child on judgment day…well…how can he ever forgive me?”

At that moment, my ears caught the words of the singer on the television overhead:

He became sin who knew no sin; that we might become His righteousness; He humbled Himself and carried the cross.  Love so amazing!  Jesus Messiah… blessed Redeemer… Emmanuel…*   

That was it—Emmanuel—God with us.

I thought of the ways God had been with me in the midst of my own hell, and realized that God was there with this woman too, beside her in her prison cell of remorse, her quagmire of guilt, and had already made a way for her—even her!  He would stand beside her on that day she faced her Maker and her son.  Jesus’ sacrifice had paid the price for forgiveness—an unreasonable grace—most would say “a scandalous grace” for so hideous an act.

As I walked out of the jail that day, I couldn’t help but think of my own sin—the many regrets I could not undo.  And then I realized that without such grace—without such scandalous grace—we’d all be lost.

* Jesus Messiah by Jesse Reeves, Daniel Carson, Ed Cash, Chris Tomlin Copyright © 2008 sixsteps Music/worshiptogether.com

My friend Annie McPeak (a pseudonym) serves as a chaplain at a maximum security women’s correctional facility where she ministers to inmates who have committed crimes ranging from substance abuse to murder.  Annie marvels that the inmates who acknowledge their sins and receive God’s grace in Jesus Christ become truly transformed and experience a greater freedom than many who have never been incarcerated.  

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Life

One Anonymous Act Of Faith, Hope And Love

Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small; love so amazing so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. ~ Isaac Watts

Anoint with oil

Is love ever wasted?

Anonymous.

We don’t know her name. We’re given a glimpse, we bump into her a few days before Jesus’ crucifixion  in a healed leper’s home. But her astonishing act resounds through the long years, a theme song for the gospel of grace.

But not forgotten.

A woman enters the room carrying an alabaster jar filled with imported ointment so costly it would take a year of labor to earn its price. A collective gasp fills the room as she breaks open the jar, pouring the luxurious contents over Jesus’ head.

“What are you doing?” they chastise her, shocked at the pointless waste of alabaster and pure nard. “Leave her alone, she has done a beautiful thing to me, ” Jesus rebukes them back.

They shut their mouths, confused.

Why is Jesus so grateful for her gift? Why does he celebrate what seems like pointless waste? While evil plots and circles, while death turns its cold gaze, while even close friends doubt Jesus’ claims,  this unidentified woman proclaims, without a word, God’s evil-shattering plan.

Faith, Hope And Love

In Faith that Jesus is worthy of her unwavering trust, she breaks open the bottle and anoints him as Messiah.

In Hope, that God will have the final word, she breaks open the bottle and anoints Jesus for his burial.

In Love, so costly and unexpected it foreshadows the Cross, she breaks open the bottle and pours out everything she has in gratitude to the one who will soon do the same for the world.

Not many years later, Paul writes 1 Corinthians 13 to teach us the stanzas of the same three-part song. Now faith, hope and love abide, these three.

Will you follow her lead? 

What better time than now? What better week than this holy one? Leave aside your doubting and untrusting ways. Pick up your alabaster jar, the one that contains your afraid-to-love-heart.

Break it wide open for love of the Savior, whose life was poured out for you.

Will you love extravagantly even if you’re criticized by the crowd?

Mark 14:1-9

This is post seventeen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Join us on the journey to Easter.

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What You Look At You Will See

O Lord my God, teach my heart where and how to seek you, and where and how to find you. ~St. Anselm

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

At present all we see is the baffling reflection of reality; we are like people looking at a landscape in a small mirror. The time will come when we shall see reality whole and face to face! At present all I know is a little fraction of the truth, but the time will come when I shall know it as fully as God now knows me!

(1 Corinthians 13:12 Phillips Translation)  

Today’s Squint

The trouble was, I couldn’t see. For seven years I hid my nearsightedness. Too vain to wear glasses, I faked it–staking out front row seating, not because I enjoyed teacher attention. Small, well-lit classrooms helped delay the inevitable.

With college came larger and darker auditoriums where even first rows were far from the chalkboard action. After a long-avoided visit to the optometrist, I emerged onto the sidewalk, contact lenses stinging my eyes, and gasped, amazed. I almost grabbed an innocent bystander and yelled, “Trees have leaves!” Not vague clouds of green fuzziness, but individual, sharply defined foliage. I gaped in wonder, drunk with the arboreal splendor around me.

Tomorrow’s Vision

The time will come when our blinded eyes will be opened. Some of us will weep in sorrow at the waste, as the perishable objects of our earthly focus fade from view. Some of us will gaze with joy at what we always strained to see–with 20/20 vision we will know God as we have always been known.

What if the clearness of our vision then depends on where we fix our eyes today?

 Look And See

I am not asking you to make many reflections, to produce grand and subtle considerations with your intellect, or to feel deep devotion.

I only ask you to look at Him.

Who can prevent your turning the eyes of your soul (but for an instant, if you can do no more) on our Lord?

You are able to look on many ugly things, then can you not gaze upon the fairest sight imaginable?

Your bridegroom never takes His eyes off you!

He has borne with many offenses and much unworthiness in you, yet these have not sufficed to make Him turn away. Is it much to ask that you should sometimes shift your gaze from earthly things to fix it on Him?

You will find that He suits Himself to whatever mood you are in. He longs so keenly for our glance that He will neglect no means to win it.

~Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

Where are you looking these days?

This is post sixteen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Why not subscribe today and join us on the journey? Here’s a link to my guest writer’s website I forgot to include in my last post: ginnyyttrup.com.

Photograph by Melanie Hunt

 

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Reflection Correction: A Guest Post by Ginny Yttrup

God loves each of us as if there were only one of us. ~Augustine of Hippo

The scene…

reflection in a window

You’ve stared at yourself in the mirror ad nauseam. Every hair is in place, there’s no spinach between your teeth, and your outfit is perfect. It’s a good day.

With a bounce in your step, you walk downtown to meet up with friends. Just before rounding the corner of your local Starbucks, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in a storefront window.

Was that me?

You sneak another peek.

And your heart drops.

Why did I wear this? How much weight have I gained? Am I really that bald? have I always been so scrawny?

Whatever.

Shame smacks you in the face and you trade the bounce in your step for a ball and chain.

The reflection…

Which is true?

The reflection you saw in the mirror or the one in the window?

Neither or both?

Yes.

Confused? Me too. But here’s the thing…It isn’t the reflection that’s confusing. We all know our reflections, especially those we see in glass, or on water, or in someone else’s eyes, are distorted. Sure we see an image of ourselves, but it isn’t a true image. What’s confusing is what we do with the image we see.

We allow it to define us.

We let it impact our demeanor.

We believe the lies.

The truth…

There’s only one reflection that matters. The one we see of ourselves in our Heavenly Father’s eyes. The reflection of Love. The truth of who we are–all of who we are. Fully known.

Fully known? Even as I write that I want to hide. What about you? God knows everything about us. There is no hiding. But the truth is that not only are we fully known by Him. We’re also fully loved.

Fully known and fully loved.

Just the thought leads to tears. Tears of gratitude–tears of joy.

Fully known and fully loved.

Incomprehensible now.

But then…

Oh, just imagine…

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

I Corinthians 13:12

Which reflection do you see?

Ginny L. Yttrup is a novelist and speaker, and great encourager to fledgling writers (like me). Her third novel, Invisible, releases April 1, 2013. A review of Ginny’s latest book is coming soon, but meanwhile I’ll whet your appetite with this endorsement by renowned writer and speaker Liz Curtis Higgs:

Her writing is fresh, winsome, and deeply spiritual. Faith isn’t merely a thread woven through the story; faith is the fabric upon which Invisible is stitched with a loving hand. Healing and hope can be found among these pages–not only for each character, but for the reader as well. 

You can find Ginny and her books over at ginnyytrrup.com.

This is post fifteen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Why not subscribe today and join us on the journey?

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Identity With An Expiration Date

Jesus knew who he was before God and in God. He could therefore resist the temptations to live his life out of a false center based on possessions, actions or the esteem of others. ~David G. Benner

fireman dog

Mistaken Identity:

  • The poses I practice.
  • The costumes I wear.
  • The posturing that earns me the right to breath air.

False Identity:

  • What I have.
  • What I do.
  • What people think of me.

Our identities are always in crisis because the false ones come with an expiration date.

The Identity Bin

A circle’s worth of children sit cross-legged on the floor. As I, the music teacher, hand out rhythm instruments from the plastic bin, their eyes plead,

Please give me claves or castanets! Darn, boring old rhythm sticks again. How will I stand out? I can’t compete with the cabasa’s scritchy sounds. I could be something special with maracas in my hand. The teacher must like me least of all.

The music begins. The students bang their instruments as loud as they can and eye each other with envy. But at the end of the song, the instruments go back in the bin.

Exactly The Point

the Apostle Paul’s makes in 1 Corinthians 13: 8: “Hey guys, you know those spectacular spiritual gifts that have you preening in the mirror, or hanging your head in resentment? They will all go back in the bin!”

What brings us applause and approval today will share the fate of quill pens tomorrow. When Christ returns, they get tossed in the bin–no one will need them, no one will care.

  • Who needs prophetic sermons, when the sound of God’s voice fills the air?
  • Who needs scholarly expertise when God himself can be asked?
  • Who needs mountain-moving faith when the mountains have been moved for good?

Are you building your identity and sense of worth on the temporary gifts of today? Forget your clever cabasa and your clanging cowbell. Start over-performing in what matters.

The Only Identity That Lasts

And so I return again to knowing myself as deeply loved by God. I meditate on his love, allowing my focus to be on him and his love for me, not me and my love for him.

And slowly things begin to change. My heart slowly begins to warm and soften. I begin to experience new levels of love for God. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, I begin to see others through God’s eyes of love.

David G. Benner in, Sacred Companions 

Have you forgotten the gifts you envy or admire will expire? 

This is post fifteen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Join us on the journey to Easter!

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Love Never Fails

Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me. ~Jesus Culture

out of order

Dear Complaint Department,

Life is out-of-order. Everywhere I turn, something or someone fails.

Plans come up empty, wells run dry. Hearts are broken, coupons expire.

Knees give out, idealists give in, plumbing bursts and hard drives crash.

Coffee gets cold and food will mold, buildings crumble and leaders stumble.

People we count on are late or distracted, show-offs and no-shows deliver their low-blows. Promises made, quickly fade. People neglect and fail to protect and are often inept.

In every way we let each other down. There’s no end to what we fail to be.

In the midst of the damaged, defeated and deranged, is there anything that comes with a lifetime guarantee?

Ted mt. rainier meme 3

Never Fails

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

Lamentations 3: 21-26

Have you grabbed hold of the unfailing love of God? I invite you to listen to:

One Thing Remains by Jesus Culture

This is post fourteen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Join us on the journey to Easter!

Photo Credit  Ted Martinson, photograph of Mt. Rainier
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Love Endures All Things Where Fickle Is The Fashion

Everything in life, contrary to Madison Avenue guarantees, can’t be cured or resolved or eliminated. Some things must simply be endured. Some things must simply be borne. Some things must simply be accepted. ~Joan Chittister

tree endures

Love endures all things. Really? I think I’ll skip to the next verse. My ideal of love involves preventing all pain, not providing the strength to bear it.

Then I look up 1 Corinthians 13:7 in the original Greek and see a glimmer of light. Translated literally, it reads like this: Love

  • all things bears
  • all things believes
  • all things hopes
  • all things endures

As opposed to: Some things, love may endure. Several things, it will put up with for a while. A few things, love will stick around until the end for, if a the ending is guaranteed.

I can’t deny the difference. My feeble, ineffective human version, versus the unmovable love of God. Twenty-six times Psalm 136 repeats this truth, a steady cadence to count on: His love endures forever. His love endures forever. His love endures forever. 

The love of God endures all things so we can become his durable ones, who hold on for the duration, even under great duress, and so reveal his enduring character in this fickle and faltering world.

Love Endures All Things

The winds of March are often cruel and blustery. And yet they typify the stormy seasons of my life. Indeed, I should be glad to have the opportunity to come to know these seasons.

It is better for the rains to descend and the floods to come than to always live in the legendary land of Lotus or the lush Valley of Avalon, where the sun always shines and strong winds never blow.

The storms of temptation may appear cruel, but don’t they lead to a greater intensity and earnestness in my prayer life? Don’t they compel me to cling to God’s promises with a tighter grasp? And don’t they leave me with character that is more refined?

The storms of sorrow through bereavement are intense, but they are one of the Father’s ways of driving me to Himself. His purpose is to softly and tenderly speak to my heart in the secret, hidden places of His presence. There is a certain glory of the Master that can only be seen when the wind is contrary and my ship is being tossed by the waves.

Jesus is not my security against the storms of life, but He is my perfect security in the storms. He has never promised me an easy passage, only a safe landing.

~L.B. Cowman from Streams in the Desert, ed. James Reimann

What does love that endures look like in your life?

This is post thirteen of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Join us on the journey to Easter!

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Love Hopes All Things

Hope is the word which God has written on the brow of every man. ~Victor Hugo

Love Hopes All Things: By Susan Basham

starbucks logo

Pulling my car into the drive-thru line at Starbucks, I wondered why it was a dozen people deep. It wasn’t raining, yet it seemed everyone was driving through today. I was transporting three dogs to the groomer, and there was no way I could leave two wild Shih-tzus and one crazy Bichon alone while I went inside for my daily dose.

Millie, the Bichon, sat on my lap licking the window. As I peeled her away from the glass, I saw the woman. She sat across the parking lot, leaving just enough room for a thoroughfare, as she too was waiting in the Starbucks line. I smiled, and gestured to her. It went something like this: “Are you next, or am I?”

Really, I was fine either way.

She was not.

Thinking I was trying to snag her spot of next up, she gunned her Suburban, rolled down the window, and let out a string of expletives that made me blush. Millie barked back a retort.

“Go ahead, please,” I said. “I wasn’t sure who was first.” I pulled Millie back onto my lap, so she could see I had been dog-distracted and truly didn’t know who was next.

She didn’t buy it. She continued with the name calling without taking a breath. I won’t write them down here, but the main mantra shared initials with the number one social networking site.

Then something really strange happened. Instead of getting mad or yelling back at her, a sense of empathy invaded me. I looked at her again, and this time I saw someone different, someone who wrenched my heart. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was pulled back in a natty ponytail. She held her phone in her palm, glancing down at it every few seconds. And she was driving that big ole’ gas hog of a Suburban, my own car of choice when I had three kids at home and a carpool.

Dear God. I was looking at myself ten years ago. Same car, same ponytail. Same frustration.

We’ve all been there. Dog vomits on the sofa. Both kids have strep throat. The garbage disposal chooses today to break, when you are trying to disintegrate moldy fridge leftovers. Husband is mad because you forgot to pick up the dry cleaning and he’s going on a business trip. Sound familiar? And by the way, was that him she had been talking to or texting?

She gunned forward, just to show me that she could. I left her a wide berth, smiled at her splotchy face. She shot me a sideways scowl, mouthed the mantra again.

Pulling up to the loudspeaker behind her, I said “I want to pay for whatever the woman in front of me has ordered. And please tell her I hope she has a better day.” I meant every word.

The woman idled in front of me for a good four minutes, talking to the barista who had leaned out the window. She shook her head and handed over a bill. She drove around the side of the building slowly, this time no gunning. Hmmm.

“No takers, huh?” I said to the barista as I pulled forward.

“Nope. She said she couldn’t believe you wanted to pay for her drink after all the names she called you. She said she couldn’t allow it, and said to tell you she was sorry. She felt really bad.”

“Did you tell her I hoped she had a better day?”

“Yep. She said thanks— that she already was.”

“Good to hear.” I smiled and handed her a dollar to put in the tip jar.

As I drove away, I began to cry. Not because I had been called so many terrible names, but because God had answered my very recent prayer—which was that He would allow me to see people as His love sees them, not as I see them. That I might be able to see the hurting inside, instead of just the hurtful outside. And maybe a few tears were of gratitude and amazement that He always shows up with an answer when I sincerely ask.

I’ve thought of her many times since that day in the Starbucks line. I hope she knows that she is loved by her Creator, and that things can and do get better. In Starbucks speak, I’d say Tall to Venti better.

Are you learning to love others into hope? 

“The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17)

[Susan is one of my favorite creatives. She creates travel fiction (suspenseful novels based in exotic locations), blog-posts, oil paintings and delicious cuisine all while caring for her husband and three children. She deserves her Starbucks! You can find Susan over at susanbasham.com, where this post first appeared.]

 

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Love Believes All Things

Cynicism is self-imported blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us. ~Stephen Colbert

Mel bird in berries

What Every Cynic Knows

Even silver linings have their clouds,

the light? An oncoming train.

The lemonade made with life-tossed lemons

will be watered-down by rain.

And the rainbow that soon follows

is just the calm before the battle,

Dark’s longed-for dawn just reveals the truth–

you’re up a creek without a paddle. 

Jesus circles the foot-deep brick walls of self-defense you’ve built around your heart. He reads the motto you’ve carefully cross-stitched and hung over the doorway:

Better to believe the worst, for the worst is sure to happen.

He finds a door–the one you forgot to cement over. It’s small, but he can stoop. A soft knock, you barely hear it, but your heart is claustrophobic, and longs for more generous spaces. With a skeptical shrug, you open the door a crack, and barely hear his words.

“Will you trust me? Will you allow yourself to believe the best can happen? Will you give me the benefit of your doubt, and say “yes” to all I am?

 Love Believes All Things

It is right and good that we, for all things, at all times and in all places, give thanks and praise to you, O God.

We worship you, we confess to you, we praise you, we bless you, we sing to you, and we give thanks to you:

Maker, Nourisher, Guardian, Healer, Lord, and Father of all.

You are the Fountain of Life, the Treasure of everlasting goods to whom the heavens sing praise–all the angels and heavenly powers, crying out to one another–while we, the weak and unworthy join with them singing:

“Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts, the whole earth is full of the majesty of your glory.”

Blessed be the glory of the Lord for his Godhead, his mysteriousness, his sovereignty, his almightiness, his eternity, and his providence.

The Lord is my strength, my strong rock, my defense, my deliverer, the horn of my salvation, and my refuge. Amen

Lancelot Andrews (1555-1626)

Is Jesus inviting you to believe, to risk it all on his promises?

This is post eleven of our Lent To LoveA Return to the Source series on 1 Corinthians 13. Join us on the journey to Easter! Scroll up, look right to subscribe to e-mail.

 Photograph by Melanie Hunt
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