His first crown

Last week, as I was preparing for the church service and reading the lyrics of the hymns we'd be singing, many phrases caught my attention and moved my heart to worship.  But one phrase in particular seemed to hit me right in my gut.

That love of truth, those deeds of love, 
That death so steeped in hate and scorn --
These all are past, and now above, 
He reigns, our king, first crowned with thorn.

I understand the overall emotion of this stanza is supposed to be a victorious one but my words got caught in my throat when I read the last four words - first crowned with thorn. In the split second that I read it, I caught a glimpse of Jesus crowned in glory next to His father, as images of His head hung down with a crown of thorns flashed like lightening across my mind.  It was just a brief moment, really, but it stayed with me and I continued to be disturbed by images of Royalty being abused in such a scornful manner.

Yes, He is with His Father, and He stands tall and beautiful with a victorious crown on His brow, but the fact that His first crown was one made out of hate is more than my heart can handle in this moment.  It makes me angry and it hurts me because I know who He is and I know what He deserved.  I know that it has all been made right but it still happened and it should never have been.

I have said, before, that when I choose sin it is almost as if I'm putting yet one more thorn in His crown.  And that breaks my heart.  And I don't want that sin in my life because I don't want the pain in His heart.

We will wince in pain when we catch our finger on one thorn.  Can you imagine someone asking you to walk on a pile of thorns?  There would be pain in your feet that you wouldn't even be able to register.  And your feet are actually pretty tough.  Imagine now, that those same thorns were placed on the delicate skin of your face and head.  That crown of thorns was not placed gingerly on our Savior's head.  It was firm and stayed in place, possibly throughout the entire crucifixion.  The blood dripping down his face was mingled with the tears He shed on behalf of those who were hurting the ones He came to save.  Jesus cried for the one who made the crown, too.

Who made it?  Who decided that this humble Galilean needed a crown fashioned out of tiny painful spikes?  What kind of human being, created by God Himself, takes the time to collect branches of thorns and works it to fit a man's head?  Did this person hurt themselves while they were making it?  Did their fingers bleed once or twice?  What would they have done if while they were making the crown, Jesus walked up to them, placed His hands on their wounds and healed them?  Would that man have stopped making the crown and bowed before Jesus instead?  Yeah, I kind of think he would have.  Would that man have felt that the crown belonged to him and placed it on his own head, instead?  Maybe. But Jesus would never have allowed it.

That's the kind of Savior we serve.  And that is what He does.  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us so that we could be forgiven.  While we were making the crown, He came to us and healed the wounds of our own hurtful efforts.  We don't deserve it any more than the guy who fashioned the thorn crown, and yet we are recipients of such a great love, nonetheless.

How often I forget to acknowledge every part of His sacrifice.  I tend to see the crown as just another part of the crucifixion image and yet it was a message in and of itself.  Because when I realize that my King donned a crown that was the painful opposite of what He should have had, my heart is moved.

My heart is moved into worship, adoration, devotion, praise... all these (and more) are the emotions and desires of my heart when I reflect on this one element of His sacrifice - the crown of thorns.

"self"-denial

In preparation for Lent, I've heard the phrase "self-denial" being used and backed up by Mark 8:34.  Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves...

But I challenge the concept of self-denial because I believe it may be the opposite of what Jesus was trying to say in Mark.  In my opinion, self-denial puts us in the spotlight and says, "Look what I can do for Jesus."  But denying ourselves means we turn away from the mirror and look to Jesus.  Here's my story to back up my claim:

Although my denomination never celebrated the season of Lent, about 12 years ago, I decided that I would explore it a bit since many people I worked with would talk about what they were "giving up" for Lent.  So the first year, I gave up chocolate cause that was my favorite thing.  It was not an easy thing to do, either.  Chocolate was the treasure of my dessert world.  I couldn't understand why anyone would make a dessert without chocolate in it.  Lemon cake?  Creme brulee?  Fruit cobbler?  I loved all those things but would always opt for a chocolate choice, or add chocolate to them.  I even added chocolate to my pumpkin tart.

Giving up chocolate was rather challenging, but I like a challenge.  That's why I did it in the first place; it wasn't a spiritual discipline at that time at all.  And although I remained faithful for the 40-day period, I replaced chocolate with other sweet indulgences, so it really wasn't that significant if you think about it.

So the next year, I decided that I would intensify the challenge (for my own ego) and I gave up all sugar.  And wow...talk about tough!  When you're interacting with 90 different middle schoolers all day long, there will be times when you'll need a little pick-me-up and to not have that option is just killer.  I'm a bit of a stickler when it comes to details so I gave up ALL sugar, even the little bit you'd find in salad dressings or ketchup, so when I say it was difficult, I mean it.  But again, I did it for my own self-centered pride, plus I replaced my cravings for sugar with other things that metabolized as sugar; breads, pastas, etc.

When I gave up the sugar, though, I had never sacrificed something so stringently before and I needed to find the strength to do it.  So I had a thought: how about every time I want something sweet, I think about the sacrifice that Jesus made?  And then I can realize that turning away from this temptation is NOTHING compared to Jesus turning away from heaven and coming to this earth, to His own children, to be rejected and humiliated and condemned.  And that's when I had my ah-ha moment.  Ohhhh, so this is what denial during Lent is for? I wondered.  (So embarrassing to admit how ignorant I was.)

I continued to toy with the basic concept of giving things up for Lent and maintained the practice.  I tried to make it more and more difficult every year, just to challenge myself.  (I bet you're wondering where God fits into all this self-denial fun I was having...)

One year I gave up watching television programs.  I'd never owned a television with cable or netflix or anything, but I had a computer and Hulu was all pretty much free back then, so I had plenty of opportunity to waste my time and veg around.  So that year, I decided I was tired of the food denial thing and I stayed away from my favorite shows instead.  But wow, I can't tell you how much more alive the world looked to me and I felt this sudden need to seek God (that was 2011; the year I made a deliberate decision to know God).

But you should know that when I began to seek God that year, it wasn't necessarily for the right reasons.  I didn't do it because I loved Him and wanted a closer walk with Him.  It was for my children.  Restricting the influences of the world made it possible for me to see what was right in front of my face and I realized that although I didn't actually care about heaven for myself, I didn't want to make that decision for my children.  I wanted them to have more opportunity than what I thought I deserved and I determined that I couldn't teach them unless I went up to the mountain first.  (Going up to the mountain was an analogy one author used to help parents understand why it was so important for Moses to go up to the mountain to meet with God before having the strength and wisdom to deal with the children of Israel.) So that period of denial proved to be quite rewarding and I was suddenly eager for even more.

And then came the most intense Lent season of all, till that point:  I gave up as much as I possibly could.  TV, and movies too, chocolate and sugar, but also all cooked food (since I had turned to refined carbs in replacement of sugar before).  Yup, I went raw for 40 long days.  Nothing to eat except what God made to grow in His green earth.  Yeah, that was tough.  But check it out:  that Lenten period immediately preceded this incredible thirst for God and for His word and for a personal relationship with Him (not just for my kids).  Interesting, huh?

So if I know me, you know I love denying myself the temptations and earthly pleasures in which most people love to indulge.  Why?  Because the results are so freaking amazing!

Remember the hymn Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus?  

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Well, guess what?  It works in reverse too.  Turn away from the things of earth and His wonderful face is where your eyes will turn.

I can't hardly keep silent about the benefits of a life away from earthly gratifications.  I want more people to try it and to devote themselves to it.  Not as a way of torture or penance, of course, but because the rewards are limitless.  The enjoyment of indulging in earthly pleasures pales in comparison to indulging in God.  The fire I have in my heart for God has nothing to do with what I've done or how devoted I am to Him so I can't take any credit for it.  The fire has always been there because His spirit dwells in me.  I just never recognized it until I started taking a step back from all the things that are born of this earth.

But like I said, I didn't do it for the "right" reasons.  When I first practiced Lenten denial I was self-centered and feeding my ego so no one can look at me and say, "Wow, you're so spiritually amazing."  Cause I really kind of suck when you realize how self-focused I was.  I suppose someone can try to give me credit for my determination in denying myself but if you understand that the determination was born of my desire to do everything by the strength of my own flesh, you wouldn't be so quick to praise it.  So please don't think that this is an opportunity to offer me any applause.  This is a testimony of how the Holy Spirit can penetrate a prideful heart and move me, in spite of my efforts to make it about my own ridiculous challenges.  

So yeah, my history with Lenten denial was not exactly rooted in the most noble or spiritually-worthy endeavor, but God is so eager to find any avenues into our heart.  I am forever and ever grateful to God's power to penetrate a prideful heart that was so misguided as to deny Him the very desire of His heart - an intimate relationship with me.  Because of His great love (not because of my strength) I am moved to find ways to give Him more and more of myself.  It's not self-denial anymore because I'm no longer doing it for myself.  It's is simply a denial of self.  I have no idea if I'm making any sense.  Oh well...


I'll bet you're wondering what I'm giving up for Lent this year...

What if I told you that this year I'm not giving anything up?

What if I told you that this year I choose to indulge, instead?

My perspective has shifted.  I no longer emotionally prepare myself for restrictions, but instead, I prepare my heart for rewards.  I eagerly anticipate how He can fill me, instead of how I can remove things.

Yes, there are things in which I won't indulge but not as an exercise of denial but because it is so, so incredibly rewarding to receive more of Jesus.  I gotta tell you, though, I do feel a little selfish in my approach and I'm not sure how to balance that out.  God's gifts to me during these times have been so incredible that I want to make sure I'm honoring Him and not just swimming in His goodness.  Last weekend, the pastor talked about giving to others during this Lenten time and so I think I'd like to explore more of that concept because right now, I'm pretty much just basking in His Sonshine and I'm way too content just doing that.  There is a light we need to shine for others; a responsibility; a privilege.  The pastor said that we will have wonderful moments with God on the mountaintop but that we can't just stay on the mountain and bask in the glorious light.  We also need to take it to others.  I had never considered such a perspective!  I prefer to just stay on that mountain, day in and day out but that would be selfish, wouldn't it?

So that is my prayer for this season of Lent.  Show me, Lord, how to take the joy and the love you have shared with me to others too.  Give me opportunities to serve them as a way to honor and multiply all the gifts you've given to me.  I am so undeserving of all your goodness and am so ashamed of how self-centered I was but am grateful for your eagerness to work with such a misguided heart.  Let me shine for you.

why mardi gras?

The season of Lent is here.  Many of the churches are preparing their services, and congregations are preparing their hearts to dwell on Jesus' sacrifice and reaffirm their devotion to Him.  This is my most favorite spiritual season of all!  Yes, I like Christmas, but the non-significant stuff kind of takes over that season.  But Lent is just lovely.  The word Lent is simply translated from the Old English word lencten which means Spring.  Spring is a time for rebirth and promises fulfilled as the dormant buds and flowers come back to life after a long winter.  It's a celebration of Jesus' victory and a hopeful anticipation of our eternity with Him.

So I look forward to this time now and even count down the days.  The church in which I grew up never celebrated Lent but I looked into it about 12 years ago and have been aware of the season since then.  This year it is especially significant to me since I feel that, I too, am experiencing a rebirth.

I love that so many denominations see the value in this season and they take the time to reflect on it.  But what I don't understand is the concept of Mardi Gras.  In some cultures Mardi Gras is synonymous with Carnival.  A big ol', let-it-all-hang-out kind of party time where anything goes, and you wear masks to hide because you don't want anyone to know how crazy you can get (or whatever reason they wear the masks).  Mardi Gras is the day before you accept a somber conduct, more befitting for a time of reflecting on Jesus' sacrifice. But Lent isn't just about Jesus' sacrifice, it's about His victory, so I can see how a day of celebration fits into that but that's not what's really going on with Fat Tuesday.

On Fat Tuesday people are trying to indulge in every manner of desire and that just doesn't make sense to me.  When I prepare for a longer fasting period, I work towards it by eliminating heavier things in my diet or sugars or whatever.  Because if I indulge right before I fast, it actually makes the sacrifice more difficult and I can't enjoy my fast.

When Jesus prepared His heart to walk the path of sacrifice, we find Him on His knees in the Garden, submitting to His Father and seeking Him for strength.  I imagine that it would have been nearly impossible for Jesus to accept His position as our Lamb if He'd spent the night before partying it up and getting drunk.

So I guess my point is to encourage people to take some time to reflect on the purpose of indulging before actually doing it.  Does it make sense to prepare our hearts for a contemplative season by giving in to all the earthly desires?  It's like, "Hey God, I really want to be a representative of you but first I want to go crazy and experience all the stuff your enemy uses to keep us chained.  That's cool, right?"  Yeah, that sounds like a fabulous idea.

I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be overly critical, I'm just trying to understand the value of a day of indulging in sin.  I understand the idea of enjoying something that you're going to give up for a while and that's not a terrible thing.  But it seems to me like people have gone a little overboard with the whole indulging thing and really actually made it a day to give in to the sins we wouldn't normally give into.  That's all.  And it just doesn't make sense.  A smoker wouldn't smoke 3 packs of cigarettes the day before a date they've decided to quit.

If you celebrate Lent, I challenge you to use Fat Tuesday as a day to indulge in God's goodness.  Use this day as a day when you seek out and satisfy every desire for hope and strength and faith.  Because the difficult days of sacrifice will require that our bank of God's gifts is pretty full.  It's just a thought.

I know I sound like a bore and I promise that I do know how to enjoy a celebration, but I also know what it means to indulge in Jesus prior to a period of difficulty and that is entirely more satisfying and lasting than anything the world has to offer.  And it seems a little more fitting for the season in which we're entering.

All that being said, I will probably have a piece of cake today.... just so I can say goodbye...

tears... bleh

This is the first time I have ever re-posted an old blog.  But I just can't help myself.  In my last blog I said that I took a walk through my past and that means that I read some of my old writings.  This particular blog made me laugh when I consider how far I've come.

As of late I have been so completely overwhelmed with the power of music that it might be fun for others to also see where I used to be.  I was so resistant to having my heart respond to the music in any way, but especially resistant to allowing it to bring me to tears.  Yeah...I've come a long way.

Written in November 2013 
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Even as a younger kid, I never liked all the crying and emotional stuff associated with certain things in life.  Like "cry-movies."  I hate cry-movies.  Why would I want to watch a movie that I know will make me cry?  That's stupid. Yet girls seem to gravitate toward movies like those.  What a bunch of pansies.

In high school, a friend of mine forced me to listen to my first country song.  "Johnny's daddy, was taking him fishing, when he was eight years old.  Little girl came through the front gate, holding a fishing pole. . ."  Turns out the boy is upset that his dad invited the girl and says, "Don't take the girl."  A few years later, the boy and girl are held at gunpoint and the boy offers the robber anything he wants but says, "Don't take the girl."  A few years after that, they're married and having their first baby but there are complications and he falls to his knees and begs God to take him but whatever He does, "Don't take the girl."  Are you freaking kidding me?  Who writes stuff like this?  Why?!  Why do people want to make other people cry?  That's kind of sick.

I distinctly remember Week of Prayer meetings that we had when I was in middle school.  The speaker was finishing the week and saying stuff and making all the girls cry because it was apparently so ridiculously beautiful or something; oh, and he also had some music playing in the background. My natural instinct was to put up a firewall of sorts and ignore the emotional atmosphere in the room.  And I sat there, cold as ice, inwardly scoffing at the emotional weakness of the other girls.

I noticed people seemed moved to tears when they heard a beautiful song with touching lyrics or a quiet melody backing a speaker.  Do you want a productive alter call?  Have some sappy hymn music playing in the background; that always pulls the suckers in.  When I'd see all those people going up to the front and crying and all that, I would roll my eyes and think, "Whatever.  This isn't even real.  You guys are just moved by some stupid music and when the music stops everything will go back to the way it has always been; you guys are idiots."  Yup, I would think all of that.  And more.

My reflex instinct (because I was naturally unaffectionate and guarded) was to resist the temptation to be moved by music.  If I wanted to respond to an alter call it would be because I wanted to and had thought it out, not because the music was somehow affecting my heart.  Yuck.

You know why?  Because I decided that tears and other emotional responses were weaknesses.  And in my life, I needed to be tough and not let my circumstances result in pathetic weeping moments.  Tough people don't cry.  Tough people maintain their strong form in the face of emotional roller coasters.  Tough people don't let a tender moment get the better of them.  Tough people maintain their solidity while everyone else is still trying to find their footing.  Weak people suck.  And tough people kick butt. And what you think is all beautiful and moving was just an illusion created by sneaky sound waves; it's not real.


Can you imagine my shock and surprise when I discovered that I was almost entirely misguided in my perceptions?

It turns out that God invented music.  Heaven will have constant singing.  Revelation 4 talks about how some strange creatures will break out in a "Holy Holy Holy" song and 24 elders will fall down before God, throw their crowns before Him and worship Him.  They do all that when the song commences.  I'm having a hard time imagining that their response isn't real.  They fall down and worship.  They don't bow their heads, or bend at the waist, or genuflect; they FALL DOWN.

But I resist the urge to move when the music is cued.  I resist the weakness of the human heart.  I stand firm.  Wow.  I am simultaneously ashamed and yet afraid.  I'm ashamed that I have spent so many years of my life resisting the POWER of music because I didn't think it was real; elevating my own strength above the workings of the spirit.  How arrogant and proud.  But then I'm also afraid because if I allow the music to penetrate my core, I may become one of those people who are always weeping when the music is played.

In a church I attended 10 years ago, there was a woman that always cried when she sang.  Always!  She could not make it through a stupid song without breaking down and then squeaking out the words.  It would make me so uncomfortable!  I would see her name in the bulletin and would be like, "Oh great; the cry-lady is going to try and sing again."  I would literally sit there and pray that God would give her strength to get through the song without falling apart.  I didn't pray for her sake, but for mine!  Good grief, woman!  Get a grip!

But listen to this:  I was practicing with the praise team a Friday night recently and literally couldn't get through my music.  It struck a cord with me and moved my entire spirit to worship without words; just spirit communicating with Spirit.  It was beautiful and I was in a place with God where He was speaking to me and I was responding to His words and His love.  The song ended and I could breathe again and my first thought was, "Well, shoot, I'm the cry-lady."  All of the sudden I was disturbed by the fact that I couldn't get through a single, stupid song without being overcome by the power of it.  Granted, that was during a period of painful struggle, but still.  I told a dear friend that I could hardly sing with the praise team without falling apart and she said, "That's okay. Then you will praise Him with your tears."

And I am reassured that praising God with my tears is real.  I dare say that is is the most real thing I can do.  Now I'm not saying we should all rub our eyes with onions so that we cry every time we pray, as if there's some magical property in tears that somehow allows us to transcend to greater spiritual heights.  I'm just saying that worshiping God is not a mental thing.  It's not intellectual, it is Spirit.  It is our spirit which is everything we are inside; all our emotions, our happiness, our sadness, our hopefulness, our repentance.  It's everything that we feel and it is the part of God that lives in us.

Remember the lady with the expensive perfume?  There is no record of her speaking a single word to Jesus and yet Jesus immortalized her in the minds and hearts of all future generations because she praised Him with her tears.  She praised Him and thanked Him and submitted herself to Him.  And not a single word was spoken on her behalf.

I just want to end there.  In that room, with Mary at His feet, loving Him with her tears, unaware of onlookers, her Spirit intertwined with God's Spirit in a moment of free and overwhelming worship.  Now that was real.

restoration

Tonight I took a walk in the past and then followed that timeline into the present.  What I realized placed a powerful smile in my heart.

Here is my brief history:

I had walked the life of a ho-hum Christian until May 2011 when my lifetime of complacency came to an end.  For the next year and a half I sought spiritual understanding and asked God to remove strongholds from my life for His purpose and glory.

By January 2013, instruction and learning at the feet of Jesus intensified.

Then by fall 2013, I spent the next 9 months fighting forcefully to keep standing for Jesus while all hell broke loose and tried to defeat me.  That was such a painful period of brokenness and pain but Jesus was ever faithful.

From May 2014 till September 2015, my gentle Healer came to my aid.  Almost a year and a half!  Wow.  And that was not some casual healing, either, it was quite intense and purposeful.

And now?

Now, I have finally entered a period of restoration.

I have been waiting for this since 2013!  I've still been praying to God, asking Him when He would ever restore me.  I didn't realize He was actually doing it already.  How cool is He?

I have, over the last couple years, used the phrase, "....for my healing."  More recently I told someone, "that [something] provided healing for my heart."  But I felt disconnected from the word "healing" for some reason.  I felt a more appropriate word would have been "restoration."

All the things I'm experiencing now, they are restoring me!  They are making me new, not addressing the brokenness of yesterday.

What a lovely place to be.  What a long road it has been.  What a joy to recognize God fulfilling His promises to me.

Oh, how I love the promise of the verse in Joel 2:25.  I will restore to you the years the locust hath eaten.  That's not a promise of healing; that's a promise of restitution.

I wait on you, God, to fulfill your promise and restore all that has been lost, if you feel it would bring glory to your name.  I look forward to what you have purposed and planned for my life from here on out...