{{the Word became flesh}}

Already a week into Advent, and I am just now posting this year's daily Scriptures.  {I put up my tree late this year, too--such is the life of a busy student/career girl!}  Anyway, the readings are embedded below if you want to follow along!

We've been doing a study on Advent for our Sunday morning youth small groups at Walnut Hill, and this morning we talked about the Incarnation and what it means for us that "the Word became flesh..." (John 1:14). 

As I was developing the material the past couple of weeks, there were several practical applications that struck me: 1.) Jesus is fully God, so he deserves our worship, 2.) Jesus inhabited a body, so God cares what we do with our bodies, 3.) Jesus "moved into the neighborhood," (as Eugene Peterson has paraphrased John 1:14 in the Message), so it matters how we inhabit the places we live.  Wow--it was a lot to cover in one morning!

But before we launched the small groups, I shared with students for a few minutes about why Jesus had to come at all.  I tried to connect for them the two dimensions of God's Word--written (the Bible) and living/Incarnate (Jesus!).  God's written Word is manifest in the Person of Jesus Christ who comes to fulfill the Law and Prophets (Matthew 5:17) and to accomplish what the law could not do (Romans 8:3).

Fittingly, one of tonight's Advent Scriptures is Psalm 115.  Last year, I blogged about a song called "One Winter's Night," that has truly become my favorite-of-all-time Christmas carol.  There is a line in the bridge that confused me a bit when I first discovered the tune:

the gods we trusted and became

will find no solace here

The gods we trusted and became?  This was an odd concept to me.  But that same week, I read Psalm 115 and it all made sense:

But their idols are silver and gold,

made by the hands of men.

They have mouths but cannot speak,

eyes, but they cannot see...

Those who make them will be like them,

and so will all who trust in them.

(vv. 4-5, 8)

The point is, we become what we worship.  Since last Christmas, I've noticed that this theme of becoming like our idols is repeated often in Scripture, especially in the Psalms and in Isaiah.  And in my Old Testament class at Gordon-Conwell this fall, Dr. Carol Kaminski has lectured on this concept a good deal. 

At the first of our three class meetings of the semester, Dr. Kaminski said, "We have to learn to listen to the voice of God in our lives, otherwise we treat Him like some dumb idol." 

For this YHWH God has always been a speaking God.  His Word went forth as He created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1-2). And when gave Moses the Law at Mount Sinai.  And through the prophets when the people were so steeped in idolatry that they would not listen and repent.  

And finally, when He could stand it no longer, God spoke through the Word Incarnate, Jesus, "the image of the invisible God" (Colossians 1:15).   

{The Word became flesh!}

May you hear Him speak this Christmas.

Now that is God shouting. You can't mistake it. Christ is God, and you see every attribute of God manifest in him. His judgment, his justice, his love, his wisdom, his power, his omniscience. It's all there in person as we see Him walk through the world, working his work, living his life. The fullness of God may be seen as it was never seen before in Jesus Christ.

John MacArthur 

Advent Readings 2012

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.

Nassau 2012: All the sad things are coming untrue

On my much needed day off yesterday, I took some time to think and write and debrief.  I know from past years that this process often takes weeks, but I'm off to Portland with another team on Sunday--so I'm praying God will give me favor in decompressing everything quickly.

I had the opportunity to speak to the whole Mission Discovery group (our students and three other groups from around the country) on Thursday night during our evening service.  I always like to claim Thursday night because for most of the teams, the week is over at that point, and students have just said their heart-wrenching goodbyes.  {{of course, our team worked an extra day this year, so my own kids weren't quite in debriefing mode yet.}}  I love to talk to everyone at camp about the Kingdom that has already been initiated but that is not yet here in fullness.  I love to tell them that when they feel knocked backward by the need they see in Nassau, they need not lose heart!

For part one of this year's talk, I borrowed from a sermon I heard recently by Mike Erre, my friend Emme's pastor in California.  It's called "The Cross-Shaped World," and I've listened to it six times over the past couple of weeks--it is so beautiful!!  {Listen here.}  I explained that on the cross, Jesus turned a Roman torture symbol into the means by which we are saved.  Paul writes: "Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross" (Colossians 2:15).  I told the students that so often, we mistake the gospel for only the thing we teach to unbelievers--when really it's the hope we have for every part of life!  But, I shared with them that the cross isn't the end of the story.  If it were, we'd all be pretty hopeless.  But there is a Day that's coming when our great Savior will ride in on his white horse and save the day (Revelation 19)!  He will make everything new (Revelation 21).  We celebrated this reality with an Ecumenical (there was another non-denominational church, a Chinese church, and a Methodist church with us) communion service with orange juice and Cheese Nips.  It might have been the most boot-leg communion service ever, but it was beautiful, and God was there.

Here's what I'm wrestling with upon my return:

Sometimes I have a harder time believing in redemption for my students than for those broken Haitian kids.  Our lives are so cluttered, here in the States where we play it so safe.  The Haitian kids with their grubby hands and bruised, bare feet have treasures that my own kids do not.  They are rich by comparison--they see fully their own need, and they know what it is to have that need met by Grace.

I hope that as my students process what they have seen, they will not be the same.  But I know it's a bold hope because I see the reality in my own life.  Ms. Moxey and Anna's kids and Pastor and Madam Joseph keep on challenging me.  My heart is filled, I pray for them, seek ways to better their lives, wait for next year, repeat.  But in the meantime, I still shop at the same stores, still eat the same rich food, still prioritize travel and leisure, still clutter up my life.  {{What would it look like to let go of some of that?}}

And I feel hopeless for my students because if their thick-headed teacher doesn't even get it, how will they, these walking paradoxes who are all joy and selflessness one moment and all sass the next?  They are mirrors--the same stuff that's in them is in me too, only bigger and worse because I'm really old enough to know better.

"All the sad things are coming untrue," Tolkien writes.  And I have to remind myself: that goes for the Haitian kids and their empty tummies, but also for my students in the hurt they face stateside.

It's easy to look at the Haitian kids and see that they are oppressed, by a government and a people that does not want them, by the forces of poverty that keep them bound.

{{But my students and I--we are shackled up with all this stuff, with our safety and our comfort.}} 

Those Haitian kids, in the immensity of their need, are closer to that Day that we are.  In their lacking, they can taste the abundance that is to come.  It feels far off to me, here in the States.  But in that little Haitian slum where God is so near, I can almost taste it too.

There's a land where our shackles turn to diamonds;

When we trade in our rags for a royal crown.

In that place our oppressors hold no power,

And the doors of the King are thrown wide!

Caedmon's Call, "Mother India"

Nassau 2012: Days Four and Five

Not much time to write this morning, so I'll leave it at this: our hearts were pricked as we left the church yesterday--we who have held these hungry Haitian kids, wiped their little noses, and dried their big tears. I'm really proud of the team for how hard they worked this week, finishing a good chunk of the roofing project and giving 110% of their energy for the kids each day.

When the Mission Discovery staff asked us last night what we are "taking home" from Nassau, all I could think was that I am taking home 17 high school students-- who I hope have been changed forever because of this experience, who I hope will now take responsibility for the things they have seen.

I think we all shed some tears yesterday, and it feels a little funny to be transitioning into a beach/debrief day today...so pray for us that we'll continue to process, even as we head out this morning to unwind!

Nassau 2012: Days Two and Three

We've just finished day three in Nassau, and the team is doing great!  Wednesday and Thursday are always the toughest days on site {{we'll get a burst of energy on Friday, our last day!}}

Last night, one of the girls reported that CiCi had reminded her that God is at His strongest when we are at our weakest. Good words for today, since we had a rain storm that set us back a couple of hours on the roofing project and three students who were down for the count due to exhaustion! {{not to worry, parents: we pumped them full of Gatorade and they are feeling great today!}} Josie's favorite "God sighting" (as we call them here at camp) was when a precious little boy came and played nurse to her while she wasn't feeling so hot. As she was lying on chairs in the church sanctuary, he came and sang to her and stroked her hair! It was a really sweet moment, and I was able to catch the end on film.

It was awesome to see the students working so hard on the roof today, in spite of the fact that we were operating with a few men down. They are really getting the handle of shingling, and they worked their tails off today tearing off the next section of the old roof.

Here's the thing I'm learning about God (in Nassau and in life): He is close {{maybe closest!}} to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18), the hungry, the sick. On Tuesday and again yesterday, Kiara (one of the kids who lives near Anna, a Haitian woman in a neighboring village who's kids we've befriended over the years) was acting out. Both days, I wanted to understand why she was being grumpy. Our conversation went like this:

"Kiara, are you sad?"
::nods her head::
"What kinds of things make you sad?"
::shrugs her shoulders::
Are you sad because your tummy is hungry?
::nods her head and starts to cry::

We've been able to share our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Kiara and the other kids from Anna's house the past couple of days, which is a joyful experience. But there is a heaviness in knowing that these kids we love are hungry so much of the time. I'm reminded that we serve a God who put on flesh to experience the worst of human suffering. He is the God who identifies with Kiara in her need, and He is putting all things right.

The team is excited to have two more days at Carmichael! Please keep praying that God would teach us much and accomplish much through us.

But He said to me, my grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness.  Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Nassau 2012: Day One

Hello from Nassau!

The morning before we left, I had breakfast with a student who came on the trip last year, and she asked me what I was most looking forward to.  I told her that as excited as I was to hold the Haitian babies and to be reunited with Pastor and Madam Joseph, the thing I love most about this trip every year is watching students experience it.

There is just nothing quite like seeing the sadness in their eyes as they look upon real poverty for the first time, or watching them wrestle with God as they try to understand how He can be loving and Good in the midst of such brokenness.  The joy on the Haitian kids' faces is priceless...but every bit as beautiful to me is the joy on my students' faces as they give the day's hundredth piggyback ride, swing a kid around in the air, or recognize that maybe it's not we in the States who know God best, but instead, the least of these.

We're reflecting as a team on the gospel this week--the truth that God created the world, that mankind sinned, corrupting the perfection of creation, and that God has come in the flesh to redeem it {{us!!}}.  But that's not all--He will come again to restore all things to himself, to put everything right fully and finally (Revelation 21).  That's the hope we have for the brokenness we see in Nassau this week.  In the midst of poverty and oppression, God calls us to image forth His own redemptive nature, to begin the work of restoration in the here-and-now.

He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for his Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.

Proverbs 14:31

Here are some pictures from our first day!