No Place Like Home

I have these days, like today, where an irrepressible longing for home rises up in my soul. A longing to watch the last rays of sunshine dance across a clear sky before hiding behind the mountains. Or to walk the streets of my little town, tucked between fields of golden wheat. A longing to drive up to my parent's house wrapped in fog, windows glowing in the dark. To open the front door and be met with the scent of brownies wafting from the oven. A longing to feel arms wrapped lovingly, protectively around me. I have these days where this longing for home commands complete residency of my heart and mind. A thought about any other subject simply cannot reside. There is no section, no corner of my heart left, for other feelings to occupy. It is painfully full, threatening to burst without cure.

If only I were Dorothy so I might click my sparkly red heels and whisper, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home." It's not that Indonesia is bad, in fact it is good in many ways, but its just not home. I am a foreigner, or as Indonesians say, a "bule." Try as I might, I do not fit in. Darn freckles and white skin. Indonesia holds parts of home with fellow college graduates, dear friends, and of course Jif peanut butter, but still it isn't home. I am not home, in fact, none of us are.

As children of God, this earth and all it holds, is not our home. Paul tells us that our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20).  Through Christ's death we are "no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God's people and members of God's household . . . with Christ Jesus as the chief cornerstone" (Ephesians 2:19-20). We don't belong down here on earth. We won't fit in, we shouldn't fit in. Our lives should be so entirely different the world recognizes immediately we are foreigners. We are "aliens and strangers in the world" (1 Peter 2:11) set-apart for Christ. Earth may hold glimpses of heaven, but let us "not love the world or anything in the world . . . for the world and its desires [will] pass away" (1 John 2:15,17). May we wait in eager expectation, even groaning inwardly like creation, for the world to pass away. Our hearts, our minds, completely focused on that day. The day of "our adoption of sons, the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:23). The day we meet our Saviour. The day when we shall finally go home.

"But, our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body." Philippians 3:20-21

I can't wait. Can you?

Transformation

Lately, I seem to be on a roll of doing abnormal things. Yesterday, it was cooking a pumpkin. Back in November, I purchased two pumpkins (yes, they have pumpkins in Indo) in an attempt to make life feel "Fall-ish." When December came I put them on top of the fridge and quite forgot about them until this last week when I discovered one was rotting (gross). Thus, yesterday I mustered up the courage to cook the second one.

Cooking this pumpkin was no walk in the park. First, I had to chop off the stem. It sounded easy enough, but I soon found myself hacking at it wishing I had a saw or something of the sort. After successfully removing the stem and cutting the pumpkin in half without losing any fingers, I had to scrape out all of the seeds.

I then sliced the pumpkin into smaller chunks and baked in the oven until the skin easily peeled away. 

The pumpkin "flesh" was then put into the blender and I started the battle of turning it into puree. Blenders and I don't seem to get along. I'm forever and always stopping to mix it with a spoon or add more liquid. At some point I thought maybe I should have mashed the pumpkin by hand, but eventually I had pumpkin puree. 

Of course, I then used to make pumpkin bread.

Now, don't worry, my blog is not morphing into a baking blog. I just wanted to share a thought I had while baking this pumpkin. You may think its silly or over "spiritualizing" a daily task, but I have to share. It speaks for what God has done in my life. Here it goes . . . 

There I was desperately trying to chop the pumpkin into pieces half laughing at myself, half muttering frustrations. At one point I thought "this is hurting me worse than the pumpkin!" Right then the thought hit me that this situation reflected God's work in our lives. Lamentations 3:33 says, "For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men." God's heart breaks over judgement. Just like chopping up the pumpkin was hurting more than the pumpkin, we are not the only one touched by discipline or judgement. Yet, "God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness (Hebrews 12:10)." The Lord disciplines those he loves, whom he calls his sons. Discipline is what trains us, it is what produces a harvest of righteousness (Hebrews 12:11). Chopping up the pumpkin was a necessary step to get pumpkin bread, just as discipline is a necessary part in our spiritual transformations. 

I have been thinking a lot about the transformations that have taken place in my life as I have read about Much-Afraid and her journey to the High Places. I remember being a teenager who functioned in fear. Like Much-Afraid, I lived among the family of the Fearings. I feared leaving home, growing up, starting life after college unmarried, finding a job, living alone, living overseas . . . I had so many fears. Today, with God, I have lived out almost every single one of those fears. Guess what? It hasn't been easy, but I'm okay. No, more than okay, I'm full of joy. God transformed my heart full of fear into a heart full of peace. All by myself, I never could have changed my fearful heart, neither could the pumpkin cook itself. This is just ONE of the many ways I have been transformed through God's power. 

Before I started chopping up the pumpkin I knew exactly what I was going to make it into: pumpkin bread. In the same way, God knows exactly what he is going to transform us into. He chops us up, scrapes out our seeds, removes our skins, adds to us, and turns our best parts into something wonderful. There is an enormous difference between the pumpkin and the pumpkin bread, yet its essence is still the same. I will always be the same person, but God's transformations have changed me drastically for the better. 

When we find ourselves in discipline may we remember that it is a part of the transformation process. May we trust in the God who's heart breaks over judgement, knowing that he is purposeful with an end in mind. May we allow ourselves to be transformed.

                                                      

Between the Valley and the High Places

The other night I did something abnormal. I read a book. Yep, I am having extra time these days! I've been reading through a book my best friend gave me called Hinds Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard. The book is an allegory and so far it seems to reflect much of my life.  It is "the story of how Much-Afraid escaped from her Fearing relatives and went with the Shepherd to the High Places where 'perfect love casteth out fear.'"

Much-Afraid is first introduced as a servant of the Chief Shepherd despite her crippled feet and crooked mouth. While she loved serving and pleasing the Shepherd she continually felt ashamed by her disfigurements. One day, her relatives came to her demanding that she marry her cousin Craven Fear. Distraught, Much-Afraid immediately went to the Shepherd for advice telling him how much she longed to escape the Valley and go to the High Places away from the Fearings. The Shepherd replied that he had long waited for Much-Afraid to voice this desire and he wanted to take her there. Much-Afraid in disbelief doubted her crippled feet could make the climb, but the Shepherd told her otherwise. If Much-Afraid went with him, he would help her develop hinds' feet and heal her disfigurements. To do this though, she would have to be willing to be completely changed. This would mean taking on a new name and allow love to be planted in her heart. Much-Afraid agreed and so they started their journey to the High Places.

A short distance into their journey they came to a steep path at the foot of the mountains. The Shepherd turned Much-Afraid over to two guides: Sorrow and her twin-sister Suffering. At first, Much-Afraid was uncomfortable with her guides, but gradually she learned to put her hands in theirs accepting their assistance.

One day the path turned a corner revealing a dessert below. Much-Afraid stopped refusing to following Sorrow and Suffering any further. Distressed she called for the Shepherd, who appeared. Despairingly, she cried out, "I can't understand this. The guides you gave me say that we must go down there into that desert, turning right away from the High Places altogether. You don't mean that, do you? You can't contradict yourself." The Shepherd replied it was not a contradiction but rather a postponement for the best to become possible. Still in disbelief, Much-Afraid sobbed as she realized this was an indefinite postponement. It could "be months, even years, before that path [lead] back to the mountains again." Yet, the Shepherd asked her to trust.

Much-Afraid trusted, following Sorrow and Suffering through the dessert to the shores of the great sea of Loneliness. Initially, Much-Afraid only noticed the lack of life and dreary grey sea, but with time she found beauty in the small things. The way the sun broke through the clouds transforming grey landscape into greens and blues or the moanful cries of the sea gulls above. A new joy rose in her heart causing her to laugh again despite the loneliness.

Yet, she wasn't completely alone, for her relatives had caught up with her. Resentment, Bitterness, Pride, and Self-Pity confronted Much-Afraid with assaults in hopes she would give up her journey and return to the Valley. Worn out, Much-Afraid called out for the Shepherd who rescued her. She asked the Shepherd why she couldn't escape from her relatives horrible suggestions. He answered, "When you wear the weed of impatience in your heart instead of the flower Acceptance-with-Joy, you will always find your enemies get an advantage over you."

I can relate to Much-Afraid's journey along the path of indefinite postponement through the dessert and along the shores of the great sea. It was hard to go down that path with Sorrow and Suffering, away from the High Places, away from the blessings I thought God might have in store for me. Like Much-Afraid the trials changed me and taught me many lessons. Yet, as a new joy began to creep into my heart I found with it came impatience. With this weed of impatience came the assaults of resentment, bitterness, pride, and self-pity. I've walked this indefinite path long enough. I deserve redemption for everything I've gone through. These enemies have surely got the best of me at times.

One of my favorite books of the Bible, James, says, "Count it all joy my brothers when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness, and let steadfastness have its full effect that you may be perfect and complete lacking in nothing" (James 1:2-4).  James goes on to say, "blessed is the man who perseveres." This perseverance or endurance is a hopeful patience. Job, a man who knew suffering like no one else, is commended by James for his perseverance. James says, "You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful."

What a great reminder. God is purposeful, compassionate, and merciful. Resentment, bitterness, pride, and self-pity would have us think that somehow God does not have our best in mind. Surely, he cannot know what is best for us. The assaults of these enemies, strip us of our trust in the Shepherd. I think in the dessert of our trials, when we are so weak we cannot stand, we have to be utterly dependent upon the Lord, completely trusting. There comes a day though, as we walk along the shores of the great sea that the sun comes out and we find ourselves stronger than before, limping less and less. This moment is where our trust is perhaps the most fragile. This is where resentment, bitterness, pride, and self-pity attack.

I want to have the response of Much-Afraid at these critical moments. To lift my face to the sky and cry out with all the breath that is in me for my Shepherd to come to my deliverance. When I realize the weed of impatience has grown up I want to put my hand in the Shepherd's and say sorrowfully,

"You are quite right. I have been thinking that you are allowing me to follow this path too long and that you were forgetting your promise. . . . But I do tell you now with all my heart that you are my Shepherd whose voice I love to hear and obey, and that it is my joy to follow you. You choose, my Lord, and I will obey."