I meant what I said, and I said what I meant.

Hallelujah! I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart. Psalm 111:1

The Cry of the Church

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Even as Hallelujah originated as a transliteration of the second-person imperative form of the Hebrew verb hallal, a command to praise, early in the morning it can seem like a command performance, shaking out all of the murmuring and double-heartedness of my heart so that I may be wholehearted, undivided in my worship.

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

This weekend a whole lot of us went to Puerto Peñasco. And we rented a great big house a block from the calm warm ocean and we had boxes and bags and coolers of food and toys and blankets and towels and firewood for the fireplace.

And some of the little kids had never done anything like this before, and their first response was a pouty “I don’t like it” or even sometimes “I hate it.” And we big kids were a lot like Sam I am with his platter of Green Eggs and Ham. Try it and you may. Try it and you may I say.

And I have read Green Eggs and Ham a jillion times to Everette. She says it is a happy book. 

And yes, nighttime tide-pooling with flashlights and octopus and sea cucumbers and even a nudibranch, the twirling Spanish Dancer, and Italian potato-stuffed pasta and kayaking and Salad Bowl Charades rebranded as Banana Split Charades was pretty cool.

And sometimes I am that little kid howling noooooooooo before I have tasted, tasted and seen the Lord’s goodness.

But Manuel the Italian exchange student had a great response when I complimented him on his kindness to sometimes fussy kids. He shut me down quick. He said each child is beautiful and delightful and beloved. No matter what. It was a great response because it is the response of our Heavenly Father.

And I tried to tuck his answer into my a whole heart yesterday as I headed out into a day covering for two sick teachers on top of my own classes and a principal taking care of some important things and a director who had to leave suddenly and then another two teachers with family emergencies and I didn’t even sit down for nine hours. And really so many of these beautiful children were recovering from what had obviously been a rough long four days at home and there was lots of tears and defiance and stomping. And making farting noises with their mouths every time I knelt down to help a student with a question.

But that old I am Sam, Sam I am never gave up. Neither did Horton the Elephant faithful, 100%. Pretty good truths to pound into our core again and again in sing-song rhythms.

And this week’s core value is excellence. And Reverend Susan read aloud to each of us from Aristotle, We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.

Like sliding on that alarm for 4:15 every morning.
Like setting the espresso pot on the gas stove to boil.
And scraping off ice from windshield this morning to go swimming.

And may I become a whole-hearted woman of thanks. Repeatedly, without hesitation. Beyond a choice or decision, but just what I do because it is who I am.

Faithful. Full of faith. 100%.

Scrubbing with an old sponge, because it's all I have

And to Him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve Him; His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and His kingdom one that shall not be destroyed. Daniel 7:14

So Jessica Ridgeway, a ten-year-old walking to school, was kidnapped by a stranger, killed and chopped into pieces by killer still at large... and fourteen-year-old Malala Yousafzai, remains in critical condition after her attempted murder.  And these are just two names of the myriad faces who suffer injustice and humiliation and inconceivable pain on a daily basis.  

My sweet sister Jenny writes, “I really, really don't know how to absorb it, to swallow it as part of "free will" and what does any of it mean and how do we understand who and how and why and where God is.”

And Charly burst out of her bedroom as the twin towers exploded into flames, and shook her fist at the world, and said, “This, this, this is why I don’t believe in God.”

And it all feels very academic to sit around a lunchtime table devotions and parse the concept of My Ways are Not Your Ways, and a God who would ask Abraham to kill his beloved son Isaac, when these names and faces are on our hearts.  The New Living Translation says, "And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine,” says the LORD.

Yep.  And yet.  When I metaphorically scrub at the glass through which I only see dimly or darkly, sort of like Nicole’s windshield that I just hosed down and rubbed with an old towel, I don’t simply see wanton misery and random luck of colliding particles.  Peering back at me through the shadows I see love.  Clear and undeniable moments of grace and rightness and yes, even love.  My human angst and, could it be, the fiery darts of the Evil One would attempt to brush past them.  But that would be untruth.  Because even one smashing breakthrough of light and power wrapped around even me demonstrates that Truth exists.  

And I don’t get it all.  I don’t get very much at all.  Even Daniel, Mr. Faithful and Thankful, wrote, “As for me, Daniel, my spirit within me was anxious, and the visions of my head alarmed me.” And that’s OK.  Who would want to serve a god as cloudy-brained and short-viewed as myself?

Thus, I confess that His thoughts are not my thoughts.  But I will choose to say that with confidence and joy.  Because while I can lose sight of hope, even when on tippy toes, He does not.  He has a much bigger perspective.  He stands on a higher vantage point and sees clearly beyond the forest and over the misty mountains.  

King of kings forever and ever

and LORD of lords hallelujah hallelujah

And He shall reign forever and ever

Hallelujah hallelujah