Beauty and Affliction

"But two things pierce the human soul," wrote Simone Weil, "beauty and affliction."

Sweet friends at Anna's

The words of the Christian mystic ring especially true in Nassau, where we experience such humbling beauty and such immense pain--all in concentrated time and space. Our hearts are pricked, and we are not the same again.

Having just returned from the second annual April edition of the Nassau trip, my heart is full and also achy this morning. It gets harder to leave that place each time. And although I'm so proud of our little team and what we accomplished in only three full days on the worksite, the time flew by too quickly. I find myself wishing that today could be another day for piggyback rides and plaiting hair and sharing our peanut butter.

All of life to me is generally a bold and joy-filled adventure, with the difficult stuff inspiring as much wonder as the fun. But there's something about returning from Nassau that makes the breakneck pace of my cushy Connecticut life feel a little numb--and after this trip especially, in which the company was so sweet, the work so satisfying, and the experiences so rich with meaning.

The best little team--what a privilege to serve alongside these three!
(Photo creds to our dear friend Mindy Seeley at the ALC.)

The Project
It was a joyful encounter with God this past week to watch my three teammates create.  In their own unique ways, they are each desperately creative: Kim with her big ideas and her paint, Steve with his words (which I know are always taking shape in his head, even when he's not putting pen to paper), and Jon from behind the lens of his camera.

In a place that is characterized by rubble and trash, I am inspired by the way God has been inviting us to image forth His creative presence: first with Will's garden project last year, and now with Kim's project to invite the kids to help paint the classrooms at Carmichael Church.  As our relationships in the Carmichael neighborhood continue to blossom and flourish through the years, I pray that these creative marks left on their places will shape and empower the community.  Love creates, and creativity inspires courage.  Such is our ongoing calling in Nassau, I'm learning.

My girl Kiddi washing up.

Watching excited Haitian kids sponge paint flowers on the walls of their now canary-yellow Sunday school classroom, so giddy to participate in this work, to leave their imprint on a building where the entire community gathers, my heart could have burst.  We say with God that it is good (Genesis 1:24).

The All-Saints Visit
There were so many sweet moments with the team this past week, but one I will never forget is our brief visit to the All Saints Camp. I had not been back since Ms. Moxey's passing more than a year ago. I avoided a visit last April, and was ashamed at my relief when it wasn't feasible for me to go with the students this past July. It felt scary and hard to return to this place that I love, having lost our matriarch.

But as I prepared for last week's trip, I had the feeling that maybe it was time. And how appropriately timed with Easter because Ms. Moxey lived the resurrection life more fully than anyone I have ever known. True to her nickname, which means "force of character or determination," her contagious joy, reckless love for others, and inexplicable courage displayed the presence of God with her. Tim Keller writes, "The difference between knowing Christ and knowing the power of his resurrection is the difference between knowing a person and resembling a person." Ms. Moxey not only knew but closely resembled Jesus.  And as Keller goes on to say, "Death actually moves this process on to perfection." Standing at her memorial, thinking of her influence and the power of Christ in her, a flood of emotion washed over my aching heart.

I'm forever grateful to these three compassionate souls for their grace in going with me on that first dreaded pilgrimage back, and for giving me a few tearful moments to revel in the tension of pain and beauty, the longing for Ms. Moxey in this life and the joy at knowing she is with our Lord forever. Thank you, friends!

The Sunrise
Earlier that same morning we had one of the most transcendent experiences I can remember, a stolen sunrise on Cabbage Beach that sums up the trip for me. We awoke at 5:00 a.m., eager to make the most of our last few hours on the island and jealous for one last glimpse of sun and sea. In the foggy stillness of those last minutes before first light, we made our way ungraciously to Paradise Island, racing the clock to find the perfect spot.

Cloud cover made the sunrise slow in coming. So after Jon shot the first blushed hues, we all got in the water to watch the rays unfurl their magic.

Just thinking about it still takes my breath away: The peaceful calm of the deserted beach. The perfect chill of the water and the subtle fierceness of its enveloping waves. The clouds becoming pinker and more saturated with each untainted moment. The quiet conversation about Jesus and life and beauty. And finally, the magnificent tangerine sun coming up giant and full, so compelling we couldn't take our eyes away. It was all so beautiful, it made my heart hurt.

With calm, easy strokes, our two bold swimmers made their way back to the beach to snap some photos and then out to us again in the water, laughing and carefree.  As I watched Kim and Stephen swim in the glow of that sparkling light, I couldn't help but think of the limitless possibility their young lives hold. Their college choices may still be uncertain--but they will change the world, those two. Kim with her diligence and organization and her ability to make plans come together so effortlessly. And Stephen, like his namesake the martyr, with his inspiring words and boldness to speak about God's goodness.  I'm so proud of them and so thankful for the ways in which their hearts have been pierced for the things of God: His creation, His people, His beauty, His participation in suffering.

Fortunately for us, and for our Haitian friends with all their suffering and all their joy, the sunrise reminds us: "His mercies are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness!" (Lamentations 3:23).

We do not want merely to see beauty... we want something else which can hardly be put into words- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. 
- C.S. Lewis

Our good friend and member of the ALC family, Kevin, was a godsend to us! He also painted the dove on the wall.

farewell to a saint, sister, and friend

Summer Trips have just ended, and I still need to write and recap about Mississippi and Portland.  But tonight my heart is back in Nassau.  Our beautiful Bahamian sister and heroine of the faith, Ms. Moxey, has gone to be with Jesus.

It is a curious kind of sadness, loosing a saint in this life.  Beautiful because she is not sad!  She is, as my friend Tim reminded me, running with Jesus, just like she said she would.  And heart-wrenching because I won't have the great honor introducing my students to her again this side of heaven, or of sitting and holding her frail hand while she reads aloud the hundredth Psalm from her well-worn Bible for the hundredth time.

It's here at the barn, in the still of the night with only crickets chirping and horses munching the last of their dinner, that I got Tim's text.  I bury my head in Aiden's big, soft shoulder and cry the tears that have been stored up for this day since I first met Ms. Moxey two years ago.  Aiden is good company for teary-eyed moments--he reaches around to rest his head on my shoulder and lets out a deep sigh.  I'm not one of those animal-people who think that my horse has a soul and feels compassion; but I think of Romans 8:19-22, that the creation groans and waits for the world to be rescued from its brokenness.  My big thoroughbred is sighing with the rest of creation tonight {and every night}.  It reminds me that as I cry, I'm not the only one who senses deep down that things are not as they should be.

Ms. Moxey knew it, too.  Oh, how she knew it!  And her whole life was a revealing of the Kingdom that is both now and coming.  You could feel it so powerfully in her tiny little bedroom, as she talked about the goodness of God and the fierceness of His love.  Ms. Moxey taught us how to long for heaven, because heaven was so near when you were in her presence.

She also taught us how to live with boldness in the wait for heaven.  The Angel of Courage, I called her--so named for the Willow Tree Angel with her hands raised in triumph above her head, a posture Ms. Moxey often took to express her joy.  When I feel anxious or fretful, I think of Ms. Moxey, facing the hardships of her difficult life with her face set upon the God who promised good to her, unafraid of what horrors AIDS might bring her.

She taught us to trade bitterness for joy.  Never in my life have I known someone with more reason to live out of resentment, and yet my students will tell you--she was the most joyful person any of us has ever met!  It wasn't a put on, phoney-Christian kind of joy, either, but the kind that let you know she had most certainly been with Jesus.

And she is with him now.  Face to face at last.  Her body, once ravaged by AIDS, now restored to the perfection God intended in the Garden.  Her spirit, more alive than ever {though it's difficult to imagine how anyone could be more alive than Ms. Moxey!}, and her face, radiating the Father's glory in even greater brilliance than it did while she graced this earth.

My students have learned Ms. Moxey's lessons well.  Today, as one of my girls and I were--oddly enough--working on a little project for Pastor Joseph in Nassau, she said to me, "it just doesn't really matter what happens in my life, whether I get married or where I live.  That's nothing compared with the things I know God has for me to do."  Another called me after we heard the news tonight and said, "Chelsea, I can't even cry or be sad!  I'm just so full of joy that she is with Jesus, finally."  And so Ms. Moxey's legacy of joy in all circumstances lives on.

On my last visit to see her, it certainly seemed that it wouldn't be long.  A stroke had further wrecked her body this year, and she was less herself at times because of the heavy medication she hated taking. As I read to her from Revelation 21, tears threatened to choke the words:

 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

(Revelation 21:3-5)

As I read, she seemed to so especially close to Jesus, so ready to be Home!  

And tonight, as I think about this brave woman who has taught me so much about the heart of God, I too am longing for Home.

What Advent Means

In my family, a greater-than-average love for Christmas is mandatory.  Cue my baby sister, who once said, pertaining to a boy she was seeing and why she liked him, "well, he really loves Christmas!"  It's true--we Kingston (Russell) women are nuts about the holiday.

My preparations for Advent have been frenzied.  But I am determined that Advent itself, the discipline of preparing oneself for Jesus to come, should be just the opposite.

My mom reminded me this weekend while I was home for Thanksgiving that as a little girl, I badgered her for months about the coming of Christmas, counting down the days many months in advance.  Once December rolled around, I couldn't sleep at night for the excitement!  That is just the spirit that Advent recaptures each year for me.  I may not be that enthusiastic seven-year-old anymore, but sitting in my cozy Connecticut apartment with the tree lit and my Bible open, I feel as though she and I have been reacquainted.  Only now it's not Malibu Barbie or American Girl Dolls that get me excited.  It's that this Jesus whom I love has come...and He will come again!

Christmas on Greenwood Ave.

Tonight, on the first night of Advent, the Scriptures speak of Jesus' second coming as much as his first.  2 Peter 3:1-10 reminds us that He is "not slow in keeping His promises," but He is waiting for just the right time to return for His bride.  And in Matthew 25, we're reminded to be prepared for that any-day-now arrival.  This is the hope of Advent: That Jesus would come through a birth canal (as Alistair Begg has pointed out in an essay "Wrapped in Humility"), and what's more that He promises to return for us, fully, finally, once and for all.

For those of us who love Jesus, this hope also means that we will live differently.  I'm increasingly challenged by that thought recently, especially as it pertains to my materialism.  {Ouch...this being vulnerable stuff is painful at times.}

I was really excited to see that my favorite non-profit/parachurch ministry/human rights organization is to be the recipient of this year's Advent Conspiracy campaign.  Advent Conspiracy is an organization that challenges Christians to remember what Christmas really means by giving more and spending less.  Check out the  video and support the work of IJM here!

If you want to follow along with the Scripture reading plan I use each year (it's adjusted from the Book of Common Prayer), you can find it below.  

Much love to you this Advent!
chelsea

It will be said on that Day "Behold, this is our God; we have waited for Him."

Isaiah 25:9

Advent Readings 2011

Advent Fulfillment

Santa Claus was always a big part of our Christmas celebrations. My faith in him was secured the year he came to my Grandma and Grandpa Russell's house on Christmas Eve to give each of us granddaughters an early gift. My three older cousins suspected that this man in the red suit was a friend of theirs from Penn Avenue Baptist, but at five, I was enamored. The best part was when Santa leaned in close to whisper in my ear. When he told me that Jesus was the reason for celebrating Christmas, I was ecstatic. Santa Claus is a Christian! That sealed the deal. I was hooked.

I have always felt that my encounter with the "real" Santa Claus that day was significant spiritually. I hear a lot of talk in Christian circles about how harmful it is to "lie" to children about Santa...or how including him in our Christmas celebrations is pagan and detracts from the true meaning of the holiday. But somehow, I never felt lied to. And when I finally put aside my affections for the man in the red suit, an even stronger faith in Jesus remained.

My mom and I were talking about this on Christmas Eve--in the kitchen, where we have so many of our heart-to-hearts--and she said that she had been thinking recently about how much the anticipation of Santa Claus parallels our waiting for Jesus. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that was just really beautiful.

And it's true--those nights when I would make myself sick thinking about Christmas morning, those Christmas Eves crammed in a double bed with my three cousins when none of us could sleep for the excitement, they really were just a foretaste of what's to come.

It's been a long time since I slept cross-ways in a bed with my cousins on Christmas Eve, but Taylor and I have carried on the tradition. Every year, she camps out in my bedroom and we read Jolly Old Santa Claus, just like our mom and her sister did when they were little girls, and just like my cousins and I used to. It's a fanciful tour of Santa's workshop that makes you feel just a little homesick for days when Santa was real and you could count on his coming. The illustrations are stunning. This year, Taylor has been going through the Advent readings, too--so we read them together after the Santa book. The parallels were incredible:

For tonight is the night...at long last it is here...it is the night before Christmas! You must be very quite now and hop into bed quickly, for Santa Claus is ready to leave. The stars are twinkling in the blue sky above...and all the world is hushed and still, waiting for this magical night. For tonight...yes, tonight is the night he comes! And such excitement there will be when he comes!Jolly Old Santa Claus, by Maryjane H. Tonn

Say to those with fearful hearts, "Be strong, do not fear; your God will come...He will come to save you."Isaiah 35:4

"Shout and be glad, Daughter of Zion. For I am coming, and I will live among you," declares the LORD.
Zechariah 2:10

The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!"
He who testifies to these things says, "Yes, I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.Revelation 22:17, 20

Maybe it sounds sacrilegious to write about Jesus and Santa in the same post. But I really believe that Santa was a vessel God used to teach me about expectant waiting. He pointed me to the God who has come and who will come again for us. May we always cultivate longing for Him.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Dancers Who Dance Upon Injustice

because
in spite of all this
brokenness
it's good
He's weaving it together
for good

These are words from my dear friend, Sarah. You would just love her if you knew her. She is wise and poetic and full of grace, even on gchat, which is where she typed out these words to me sometime last year when I was living in Nashville. Her words, which are scribbled on the page of my quote book (a little book where I stash sweet nuggets of truth from good books and movies and such), came to mind last night. This world in which we find ourselves is so very broken, indeed.

I've only been back in the office for two days after my Cayman getaway, but our church is currently standing with some friends who are facing grave injustices. Yesterday some of the staff gathered to pray over a heartbreaking situation and today my team sprung into action to minister in another set of circumstances. I'm feeling drained tonight, but also strangely encouraged by the role God permits us to play in advocating for justice.

Sharon Cohn, the Vice President of International Justice Mission, wisely said (in a speech at InterVarsity's Urbana conference), "God is not knocked backward by the massiveness of the need. It does not blur the contours of each person He so passionately loves and He so doggedly pursues." I cling to those words on days like this, when I feel worn out in ministry and overwhelmed by the need. The speech is worth watching. View it here.

Oh, Jesus, how we long that you might bring your Kingdom in its fullness! May we be used of you as agents of justice to usher it in.

Advent Readings

In my quest to find Christmas afresh this year, I ordered a book of Advent meditations called Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus: Experiencing the Peace and Promise of Christmas. It's a collection of 22 essays and sermons by theologians such as John Piper, Tim Keller, Martin Luther, Charles Spurgeon, and R.C. Sproul. It also includes a sermon excerpt of Skip Ryan's, who is the chaplain of Asian Access and a Dallas friend's pastor at Park Cities Pres! The book draws its title from Charles Wesley's hymn by the same name. Check out the lyrics of this lesser known hymn--they're incredible!

These readings have been a beautiful complement to the daily Advent Scriptures. I thought I would share a little snippet with you in order to endorse the book. Keller writes:

'In the first chapter of Luke, Elizabeth says, "Blessed is she who has believed what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished." Elizabeth is saying to Mary--and to us--"if you really believe what the angel told you about this baby, if you take it in, you'll be blessed.'

"But our English word 'blessed' is so limp and lightweight. In English we use blessed to mean something like 'inspired.' But in the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, the word for blessed meant something much deeper than that. To be blessed brings you back to full shalom, full human functioning; if makes you everything God meant for you to be. To be blessed is to be strengthened and repaired in every one of your human capacities, to be utterly transformed.

"What Elizabeth is saying to Mary, and what Luke is saying to us is, 'Do you believe that this beautiful idea of the Incarnation will really happen? If you believe it, and if you will take it into the center of your life, you're blessed, transformed, and utterly changed.'"

I love that! To internalize the Incarnation is to be transformed into all that God intended us to be (i.e. to be regenerated by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit).

So even as this week feels a little frantic, I'm determined not to "bustle about but only in vain" (Psalm 39:6), but in all things to "believe that what the Lord has said will be accomplished" (Luke 1:45).

Grace and peace,
Chelsea

Advent Scriptures

Is it just me, or does Christmas get easily buried beneath a slew of parties and cookies and tinsel? We're just days into the Advent season, and my mind is spinning. I love the pace of Christmastime at Walnut Hill because there are so many wonderful festivities--like the Happy Birthday Jesus Party held this morning for preschoolers, or the fun-spirited parties I'm busy planning for our middle and high school students. But somehow, before it all even started, I felt dry. At Thanksgiving I told my mom I was pining for the rhythm of Advent as it's celebrated at Third Pres in Richmond.

So, the relatively new-found Presbyterian in me (of course, I say that tongue-and-cheek since I work for a non-denominational church now!) decided this would be the year: the year I do my own daily Advent readings. The year I intentionally set aside time every day to not lose Christmas under a pile of wrapping paper. Not that Presbyterians are the only ones to celebrate Advent--it's just that before I attended Presbyterian churches, all I knew of Advent was the calendar full of chocolate my grandparents gave me every year.

I'm loving this new Advent rhythm. Every morning, I snuggle back under the covers, post-shower, with my Bible and read the morning Advent Scripture for the day. Every evening, I lounge on my couch in front of my five-foot Balsam Fir and meditate on the evening Scripture. It's a sweet tradition that is melting away the stress and distraction of the day. (Kind of like the daily chocolate from those Advent calendars!) I'm beginning to relax into the presence of God as I ponder His coming. Slowly, He's preparing my heart for Christmas.

But Advent isn't all about relaxing. Actually, it's more about anticipating. I love how Lauren Winner puts it in Girl Meets God:

"It's Advent, the weeks before Christmas, which means we are waiting for Jesus. It is the season of expectation, of being primed and pumped, the season during which you are supposed to cultivate longing for Him, the type of longing you feel when your beloved has been out of town for three weeks but you know he is coming home tonight.

"Every creative attempt to make the season meaningful, to steal it back inside the church, away from the shopping malls and cheesy radio stations, has been tried, and most of those creative attempts have proved wanting. Perhaps the problem is that we don't know what the meaning of this holiday, of Jesus' pushing into the world, is. If we did, we wouldn't have to worry about consumerism; if we knew what the Incarnation meant, we'd be so preoccupied with awe that we wouldn't notice all the shopping."

So that's my goal this year. To really get at the Incarnation. To anticipate not only Christmas, but also the Second Coming of my King in a fresh way. To know that all the shopping, baking, and wrapping is small fries compared to the glory of this God who made Himself small for me. Like chomping on an Oscar Myer wiener when there's a banquet waiting.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning...The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1-2, 14

To read the Advent Scripture along with me this year, check out my adaptation of a 2005 Advent calendar (below) that I found on reformationtheology.com. Advent Readings 2009
I've also made it available on the Walnut Hill Youth page for our students and adult leaders.

Seeing Past the Empty Living Room

Last night Matt and I attended a Christmas dinner at the local prison. Matt's been thinking about getting involved in a mentoring ministry there, and he was invited to attend the annual Christmas party in order to check things out. I was the plus one.

We went through security and a guard escorted us to the gymnasium, where all the men of the Jericho Project (a community of inmates within the prison) were waiting for us. These men live by a covenant of love for Christ and respect for one another in units separate from the rest of the facility. They choose to be a part of the Jericho Project because they want to see their lives transformed, both while they are incarcerated and thereafter.

Matt and I were seated at a table with a Vanderbilt law professor and three inmates, twenty-year-old Spencer, 30-something Andrew, and middle-aged Kenneth. While we ate our Cracker Barrel catered dinner (a real treat for them, they confessed), we chatted about their daily Bible studies and about Men of Valor, the group of mentors that provides them with individual spiritual counsel. They told me about their professions before being incarcerated, and Spencer admitted that he's never had a full-time job. Upon his release, he hopes to get into real estate in Southern California, where his sister lives. Kenneth and Andrew talked about their kids. I have no idea how these men ended up in jail, but I know that in the few months they've been involved with the Jericho Project, walls have indeed come down. Jesus Christ has torn down the stony walls of their hearts (Ezekiel 11:19, 36:26), evidenced by their very real joy and kindness.

After we ate, a group of the men sang and several inmates and mentors shared briefly. Finally, Mr. Lee, a member of the Men of Valor board gave a Christmas message. He talked openly about his wife's death several years prior, and how his four young children had dealt with the trauma. One of his twin sons, both of whom were with him at the dinner last night, had expressed uncertainty about Heaven. The then nine-year-old was perplexed by how Heaven could be a happy place if his mother was, as everyone told him, watching him from above. (I won't go into how obviously wrong this is theologically speaking--in Heaven we will be worshiping the Almighty God, not concerning ourselves with the foolish things of this present realm!)

Mr. Lee gave his son a beautiful illustration that day, which he shared last night. He told his young boy to picture Christmas morning at their house. His brother and two sisters receive everything they wanted, the living room is overflowing with gifts. But at the boy's place, there is nothing. He searches the room for even one gift belonging to him, but to no avail. Then, through tears he peers into the doorway leading into the kitchen and sees his mother, a smile creasing her face as she tries not to laugh because she knows this will be the best Christmas he's ever had. In the hallway behind her is the go-cart he's been pining after for months!

Mr. Lee likened this illustration to our own desperate longings. Our focus on the here-and-now sometimes keeps us from seeing past the living room of our circumstances. But if we would only look to the kitchen door, to see what marvelous things our King is planning for us, we would be encouraged and delighted!

As I sat at that table surrounded by inmates who have been changed by the scandalous grace of a Savior who took their sin upon Himself, I felt such kinship with them (and not only because I am also in desperate need of grace). Surely their days are filled with longing for something other than the empty living room of prison life. This transitional season of my own life can feel a little empty in a different-than-I-expected sort of way. But hope is being sure that what God has promised us will be accomplished (Luke 1:45), that the kitchen will hold new surprises in our life here on earth and ultimately in the life that is to come.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed in us...For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Romans 8:18