The church is his eyes to see people. It is his arms to hold people. It is his hands and feet to serve people. It is his legs to move towards people. It is his back to help carry the load. It is his mouth to speak love into people.
What if all of my failures, partial finishes, inconsistencies, and shameful secrets are access points from my story to God’s love?
The point here is that what Jesus is offering is a connection so deep and life giving that the only way to begin to describe it is with water and intimacy. Life and meaning are only found completely satisfying as we find both in relation to our Creator.
Who do we see Jesus confront with their sin in the Bible? Religious people who already think they are righteous friends of God. How does Jesus respond to the rest of us? Check out the 4th chapter in the Gospel of John, the famous story of Jesus and the woman at the well.
For me this is a marvelous example of how Jesus handles our shame.
Depicting Christ as a frail moralist unconcerned with those who follow him misses the target all together. Many people that I talk to more or less think of Jesus in this way. Somehow they’ve come to believe that Christ is more or less a divine Santa Claus: watching them continuously, and keeping track of good and bad deeds but instead of presents or coal, their actions add up to riches or retribution in the life to come.
Infertility has been the single must disheartening context of my life, but as this isn't a post about infertility, and for sake of brevity, I'll only say that it left me with the reality that answers are not promised—and that is one of the most beautiful truths I've come to learn.
All of us have barriers, walls, that we put up to shield ourselves from deep wounds, strategies we use to deal with the effect of the Fall in our lives. With Alzheimer’s, my Father’s ability to control his emotions is indeed being taken away. He still feels them, at least for now, but he can’t hide them.
The term 'daddy's girl' would apply for me, but the deeper experience of having a father who loved and encouraged me, corrected and guided me, and showed grace, patience and forgiveness when I chose foolishly, allowed me to accept (easier than most) that my Heavenly Father loved and accepted me.
It’s been seven years since I lost my dad, and I have been on quite the journey.
Loving and living with a child with trauma has revealed new depths of my own sinfulness. I am learning to fight against lies about my own inadequacies and insufficiencies while learning to rely on others even when I’d rather be self-sufficient. I’m learning to pull my daughter closer to me when I would rather have my own space and peace.