Nicodemus

They were covered in grime and dust. What they looked like underneath, I could not fathom. "If those jugs weren't so disgusting, I'd give one to my brother," I mentioned to my husband as I walked past them. Sitting on the floor with the rest of the old bottles and jars, the two jugs only stood out because of their size. I shook my head, and dismissed them. 

My husband, on the other hand, didn't. He picked one up and rubbed the side with his thumb. I halfheartedly looked his way, and then froze. I couldn't believe it. Where his thumb had been was a shiny, beautiful brown glaze. What in the world? I thought. My eyes locked with my husband's, and we were both a little startled. Maybe, just maybe, the jugs weren't a lost cause. A few minutes later, with a little elbow grease, the first jug was unrecognizable. A better word to describe it: Gorgeous. The second jug took a little longer to clean, but turned out just as amazing as the first. Pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I was thrilled. No longer did they look like junky, grimy, yucky things. With a little love, they were given a new life.

Nicodemus was a wealthy, highly educated man that lived during Jesus' time. He was respected as a teacher, was a member of the Sanhedrin, and was a descendant of Abraham. He believed Jesus was from God, and wanted to know more. But then came a part of Jesus' teachings he did not understand: Being born again. "'How can someone be born when they are old?' Nicodemus asked. 'Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother's womb to be born!'" Even though he was a teacher himself, he was thinking too literally, too simply. Like me with the jug, he couldn't think outside the box. Jesus had to explain it has nothing to do with physical birth, nothing to do with where we come from or to what our lineage looks like. It's what's inside our physical bodies that matters. It means giving ourselves to Jesus, and in turn being restored to Him and His kingdom. Being reborn. 

"Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God - children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." John 1:12-13

Halfway Point

Just a quick check-in, since we are halfway through the alphabet, and an update on a change I'm making. I'll continue with "N" as soon as this is written.

Instead of a couple times during the week, I am going to be posting a new message every Monday. It will help with preparing for each message, and with homeschool right around the corner, busyness is going to ramp up to way higher levels than what it is already.

I'm going to be really transparent with what I'm saying next. The reason for this blog is to reach both believers and unbelievers. I have a very hard time telling people about my blog, because I don't ever want to seem like I'm tooting my own horn. So if you know someone who may benefit from reading anything on here, please pass it on. I'm going to look into ways to make it easier to find this blog, but until then, I'm relying on friends and family.

With all that said... On to "N"!!

Mercy

He was an outcast. His family had turned their backs on him, his town wanted nothing to do with him. Sleeping was almost impossible, with the oozing sores and scabs all over his body that would not heal. If anyone accidentally came near him, he had to yell out "Unclean! Unclean!" so they could avoid him. Caves became his home, and wild animals his only real company. He looked wild himself, being required by law to wear clothes of mourning, and to allow his hair to be wild and unkempt. It was a lonely life he lived. His memories of days past haunted him, days where he didn't feel the pain of his condition, or the pain of rejection. He would give anything to have someone look on him with something other than disgust and horror. 

Then he overheard passersby speak of a man named Jesus who had arrived in his hometown. They were talking about how Jesus had healed the sick, the lame, even the blind. If he could just get close to this man, maybe He would have pity on him, and would not shy away from him like everyone else did. So he took a chance. Since he was not allowed to come close to anyone, he slinked his way to the outskirts of town. And there He was... Jesus. Fearing rejection, he almost turned around, almost gave up the hope that was deep in his heart that this man could heal him. But he was exhausted from his journey and from the life he lived. His legs gave out, and he cried, "Jesus, have mercy on me!" 

Jesus turned to him. The look of tenderness on Jesus' face brought tears to the man's eyes. He made His way to this man, who had not felt human touch or human sympathy in a long time. Jesus opened His arms and held him like a father holds a hurting child, and healed his body from the sores and discolored skin. He not only healed the man on the outside, but on the inside as well. He gave him a new life. 

Our lives are precious to Jesus. He doesn't see the dirt and the grime, or the scars of battles we've waged in the past. He sees a lonely heart, and a beauty that is deep within. He has scars as well, evidence of His own battle, a battle He won. And because of this, we can have a new life, a life filled with contentment and joy. No more shame. No more guilt. No more rejection. All because of Jesus, and His wonderful mercy on our souls.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade." 1 Peter 1:3-4

Lazarus

It all started with a phone call. "Your grandma is not doing well. You probably should go see her as soon as you can. We'll meet you there." I panicked a little. This particular grandma was my dad's mom. Growing up, she would cook tons of food and feed us until we about burst. When our family would go visit, we'd stay up late chatting with my grandpa, and then around 5am, grandma would be up banging around in the kitchen. We'd raise our sleepy heads (their house was small, so we slept in every nook and cranny available), and she'd say, "Oh, you're up!" and then proceed to make coffee. As adults, my brothers and I would spend long weekends at her house. By that time, grandpa had passed away, and grandma spent her days going to dialysis and chatting with friends on her front porch. We'd play games and laugh until we cried, and grandma would sit in her chair and just watch us, and sometimes laugh with us. She was old school, so when we would say, "I love you, grandma!" she's say, "Okay" in her southern drawl. One of the last times I saw her at her house, I hugged her as I was leaving and said my usual, "I love you, grandma!" And she shocked me by saying, "I love you too." I could not believe it. As I was pulling out of her driveway, I burst into tears. I knew my grandma loved me, but just hearing her say it filled my heart with joy. 

My grandma died on Black Friday in 2010. We got there in time to see her and talk to her. When she breathed her last, it didn't really hit me. When we made funeral arrangements, it didn't hit me then either. During the viewing and funeral, I still couldn't wrap my head around it. But when the pall bearers walked her out to the hearse, it finally happened. My beloved grandma was gone. Cars pulled off the road on the way to the cemetery, which made me cry even more. They didn't know my grandma, but they respected those of us who did, and respected her in death. 

Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were close personal friends of Jesus. So when the sisters sent word to Jesus about Lazarus' condition, they were sure He would not let them down. They truly believed if Jesus arrived, He would be able to heal Lazarus. But their hope was shattered when Jesus did not come. And when Jesus arrived four days after Lazarus was laid in the tomb, their hearts were broken. Jesus had a plan in place for raising Lazarus from the dead. He was going to use this time to glorify His Father. And it would cause dissension among the Jews who did not believe in Him, pushing along the plots to kill Him. But when he saw the sisters, and heard the grief in their voices, he was deeply moved. And in John, chapter 11, the shortest verse in the Bible is found: "Jesus wept." Even though He was going to bring Lazarus back from death, He loved Lazarus so much He wept for him. I truly believe His weeping was for the sisters as well, and their profound grief at losing their brother. But I'm sure the weeping turned to pure astonishment and joy when Jesus said, "Lazarus, come out!" and out walked their brother, alive and well.  

Mary and Martha grieved for Lazarus as ones with no hope. Their faith had been rocked by Jesus' delay. But He restored their faith and brought back the one they loved. And when Lazarus' final time came, I'm sure they knew they would see him again, fully restored and healthy. 

I miss my grandma. But I don't miss her as one who has no hope. My grandma accepted Christ as her Savior, so I know she is in Heaven. No more dialysis. No more back pain. No more weakness. I can't wait to see her again, and give her a hug and tell her I love her. 

Kiss

It was a beautiful summer day. I was running around laughing, my little six-year-old legs moving as fast as I could go. Brushing the flyaways out of my face, I ran toward the top of a hill, only to get tagged. In this game, when a person is tagged they must fall on the ground, close their eyes, and wait for someone to tag them back in. So I fell, and waited. It didn't take long before I heard someone running my way. I tensed, ready to spring up and run the second I felt the tag. But it didn't come. Instead I felt a kiss on my cheek. I immediately opened my eyes to see the back of my friend Joey racing away in the direction of his house. What just happened? I thought to myself. Sometime later, he gave me a little red mirror in the shape of a heart. I thought it was so nice, and didn't know the significance of it until a couple years later when I cleaned out one of my memory boxes. There it was, a little smudgy but intact. The reflection in it was older, but the memories were still there. I had kept it because he was my friend, and because we moved away shortly after he gave it to me. I smiled and set it aside. Time to let it go and allow it to bring someone else a little bit of happiness.   

Kisses are usually a symbol of love, affection, relationship, trust. When Jesus was born, I have no doubt His mother Mary gave Him kisses. He was her little one, her first child, the face of God Himself. I'm sure her motherly instincts, as well as her love for her Father in Heaven, compelled her to kiss His soft little cheek. 

There was another kiss that was given to Jesus, but it was a kiss of betrayal; a mark that symbolized the hatred of those who wanted to kill Him. They did not know it actually marked the beginning of what Jesus was destined for, a prophecy coming to life from centuries before Jesus was even born. The little baby Mary had held in her arms, the Son of the Most High God, was sent to die so that we could be free. His suffering, His pain, His horrible death on a cross and then rising again three days later gives us a glimpse of the love that God has for us. The kiss of death became a kiss of life. A life we can live in eternity with Him.

"Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life." John 5:24

Joseph

We were waiting patiently. Okay, there might have been a little toe-tapping, but we were kinda in a time crunch. Our objective: Buy a 50 gallon water heater. Our progress: Zip. Well, not exactly zip, but super close. "We have two," said the Menards worker, who looked partially bored while checking the stock on her phone. However, the majority of the water heaters were on a top shelf, and only Inspector Gadget could reach them (remember him? He had all kinds of cool... um... gadgets). Oh, and a lift. That's what we were waiting on. 

Forty-five minutes later, we walked out of the store, empty handed. The guys on the lift (who were more interested in impressing the girl workers) halfheartedly looked for our water heater, concluded it was not there (after looking at maybe two on the shelf of twenty-five), and went on their merry lift way. 

Being the optimistic people that we are, we decided to check out another Menards the next morning. But what did we find there? Under the 50 gallon propane gas water heaters were the horrible words, "Special Order." ARGH!! So we decided, after we got done pouting a little, that we would just replace our super old water heater with a 40 gallon model, which was the size of our original one anyway. But here's the cool part. Our new 40 gallon water heater, our second choice, fit where the old one was (which had sat in the same place for thirty-one years) perfectly. And I mean, perfectly. If we had bought the 50 gallon guy, my husband would have had to re-figure everything, including the gas line. A project that only took a half hour or so to hook up would have extended to at least half a day. Maybe longer. Buying the smaller version of what we had in mind was a blessing in disguise.

Joseph's blessings in disguise were a tad bigger than our water heater purchase. I mean, he had some pretty rough circumstances to overcome: Brothers who wanted to murder him but sold him to slavery instead; imprisoned for a crime he did not commit; forgotten by a fellow prisoner who was released with the help of Joseph; and interpreting a troubling dream for Pharaoh (which had to be a little scary!). The amazing part was God was in each situation. Joseph was sold to a man who put him in charge of his household and everything he owned. When Joseph was sent to prison, the warden put him in charge of everything prison-related. And when Pharaoh heard Joseph's interpretation of his dream, and saw that God was with him, he chose Joseph as his second-in-command, and put him in charge of the entire land of Egypt. Each trial, each test of his integrity and faith, ended in blessings for Joseph. There was no wallowing in self-pity, no woe-is-me. No questioning God's motives. Joseph knew God was there with him, walking beside him. His future was in God's hands, and that was enough for Joseph. 

I truly believe that God had worked out our Menards trips to end up exactly how they did. We realized that for some reason our 50 gallon plan was not meant to be, and it ended up that God was saving us a bundle of work and frustration. Because God is not a God of only the big miracles and big circumstances. He works in the everyday of life. I like to think that even the mundane things, like a long line at the grocery store, or a Sunday driver cruising at 40 on a 55 mph road, happen for a reason. With our lives in God's hands, setbacks could be blessings in disguise. We just need to trust in Him, the same God who took care of Joseph, and realize that He sees the bigger picture and will get us there. And that's good enough for me. 

"God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them." -John Piper

Irreplaceable

Growing up, there was a game I did not like to play: Operation. Bleck. It had nothing to do with the fact that a chubby, cartoonish-looking man was lying on an operating table. Or the openings all over his body, with an odd assortment of bones and weird objects (like a watering pail... and a wrench. Poor guy!). The part I was terrified of was trying to remove these "ailments" with tweezers. Okay, doesn't sound all that bad, right? Wrong!! One little slip, or wobbly move, and BUZZ!!!!! The sound and vibration of an electric current would scare the living daylights out of me!!

I had a weak moment a few years back, and almost bought the game at a garage sale. It was for memory sake, which seems a silly reason to buy this particular game, since I am scared to death of it (okay, that might be a little dramatic, but still...). I opened the box, only to find it was missing a piece. I can't remember if it was the wishbone, or the pencil in his arm... but that small thing saved me from buying this nerve-wracking game. I could have probably found something that would've worked, a replacement piece that would have fit the space just enough that the game could still be played. But I'd always know in the back of my mind that the game was incomplete. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be the same.

Our souls are not unlike that game.We have pockets that need filled, with love from family, acceptance from others, areas that push us to grow and learn. But there's a part of our soul that cannot be filled with something else. It's stronger than all the other areas, has a longing deep within that starts when we are young. We can try to fill it, distract it, ignore it. But the longing is always there, seemingly unquenchable. Until we meet Jesus.

Only Jesus can fill that longing in our soul. No one, or any thing, can replace where He is supposed to be. When we ask Him to be our Lord and Savior, the empty part of ourselves rejoices. It welcomes Him, knowing all along it needed Him. We are no longer missing a piece of who we are. We are complete. No replacement parts for us. We have the best of the best, living within us.

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him."  Psalm 62:5

Heart

When you're little, things are way simple. No bills to pay (electricity was like magic), no suppers to cook (food just appeared on the table... all we had to do was help set plates and silverware!), no grocery list to tackle (I'll always think fondly of the day we ate peanut butter and jelly on saltine crackers because we were out of bread... it was a treat!). And as a 5-year-old, when I asked Jesus to live in my heart, that's where He was, in my heart-shaped heart. Always with me, protecting me and my family. 

Now as an adult, things aren't always so simple. A few years back, I was asked how I would talk to a child about being a Christian. So I shared how it was taught to me when I was little. It was apparently not the right answer. "A child would not know what it means to have Jesus in their heart. They would not understand how He could fit there." I remember looking at this person thinking, how sad. They proceeded to explain how I should go about it, using words I would need a dictionary to make sense of. I walked away from that conversation shaking my head, hoping this person would not run into an unsaved child. Their little eyes would glass over, and then they'd probably interrupt by asking why the sky is blue, and where the Easter bunny lives. 

As I've gotten older, I still like to think of Jesus in my heart, although my heart is no longer in a heart-shape. I envision Him in my soul, speaking through my conscience, and in gentle whispers in my heart. He is still always with me, my Protector for me and my family. One of my favorite hymns I sang as a child (and still love today) called "He Lives" puts it best:

"You ask me how I know He lives?

He lives within my heart." 

Amen.

"And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."  Romans 5:5

Guard

I'm a nerd. A Star Wars nerd, to be exact. Turn on an episode and I'm there, sitting on the floor cross-legged, eyes glued to the screen. I've seen them all a few times (except the old ones... I have them pretty much memorized), but cannot get enough of them. When I was kid, Darth Vader was super scary. And his stormtroopers were almost just as scary (for those who don't know what that is, they were dressed in white armor and thankfully couldn't shoot the broadside of anything). It was a never-ending fight between good and evil. And when the end did come (just this past December, with the very last episode), I cried. Yep, there's the nerd.

It all started with my crush on Luke Skywalker as a kid, and ended in the most amazing way, sacrificing oneself for another. The amazing part about it was the constant struggle the characters went through. With enticements to turn to both sides, they had to guard their hearts from the conflict within themselves. Good was enticed to the power of the dark, and evil was fighting against the light that was burning inside. It looked like evil was going to prevail, and then the great switch happened. The guarded heart of darkness gave in to the light. I wiped my tears with a sigh of relief, so glad it ended the way I thought it should: the good side won.

Paul said in Philippians, chapter 4, "And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." I'm so thankful for that verse, that reminder. We do not have to guard our hearts by ourselves. The Creator of the universe stands guard, keeping the dark from getting in. And not only that, but He gives us peace, a calming that we are forgiven and loved. A cherished part of His family. With God, the good side will always win.

"He will guard the feet of his faithful servants, but the wicked will be silenced in the place of darkness."   1 Samuel 2:9