5 Thoughts on Motherhood (So Far)

The past almost four months have felt like a blur. It feels like we were just in the hospital with our little 5 lb. 11 oz. miracle who I was totally convinced I was going to break just by holding her. And between the constant cycle of feeding and changing and rocking and doing another load of baby laundry, it seems like there’s honestly been very little time to process. And I’m definitely a processor.

Being Millie’s mom has been the hardest and the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m starting to understand more and more how those two things are not mutually exclusive. I’m living proof that the clichés of new parenthood are true, more often than not. I’m exhausted and elated. Overwhelmed and overjoyed.

So in trying to reflect upon the past few months, these are the five ideas that keep rolling around in my distracted and sleep-deprived brain:

1. Mindset has been key.

I’ve told myself from the day that Millie was born that my primary responsibility is to take care of the little human. I’ve repeated this to myself multiple times a day. I don’t think I’m alone when I say that it’s so tempting to put pressure on ourselves as new moms to do all the things. But, my word, you’ve just gone through one of the biggest transitions of your entire life. So put first things first.

Your responsibility is to take care of the little human.

Not to clean your house.

Not to make dinner.

Not to entertain the people who were kind enough to bring you dinner. (!!!)

Not to lose your baby weight.

Not to jump into a new fitness program.

Not to read all the parenting books and blogs.

Not to “maximize your maternity leave” by turning a hobby into a side hustle.

And maybe you did do some or all of those things. I didn’t, and keeping it ridiculously simple was what I needed. For some reason, I thought that by time Millie was a month old, I’d automatically have the capacity to do everything that I used to do. Not so. I’m finding that I’m starting to pick up other responsibilities, but it’s come slower that I’ve expected. I still rely on my husband, my parents, and my close friends for A LOT. Asking for help is humbling and hard, but it’s easier when you remind yourself of that primary responsibility. Today, take care of the little human. Everything else is secondary.

2. Not being a “baby person” has not automatically equaled hating the baby stage.

I have a mother who is the actual epitome of a “baby person.” If there’s a tiny human in the room, my mom wants to hold him. Me? I could take him or leave him, and frankly, would probably rather leave him. It was getting to the point that when I announced I was pregnant, anyone who knew my mom had the response of “Oh my goodness, I bet your mom is SO excited!” I was actually starting to get worried. Am I going to have to simply tolerate the baby stage? Maybe I’ll be a good mom once she hits, like, kindergarten, but I’m not sure about this first part.

Once again with the clichés, but the fact that she’s my baby has made all the difference in the world. I’m obsessed. I’m giddy thinking about her smiles, her little baby sneezes, and her thigh rolls. And I’m still so excited for the future, but time could freeze for a while and I’d be perfectly content. I love this time with my baby girl.

3. Huggies has my business for the rest of my life.

I’ll say it. I’m not afraid. #1 Pediatrician recommended Pampers? Trash. Trash, I tell you. I’ve lost count of how many leaks we’ve had with Pampers. Huggies keeps the biggest blowouts contained. And as much as I think I should caveat and say that maybe Huggies works better for Millie’s little body shape, I won’t. Buy the Huggies, already. Postpartum hormones got me passionate about this one.

4. Love is inefficient.

Millie’s not in a hurry to do ANYTHING. She eats at a snail’s pace. She fights sleep like it’s her job and often I’ll drift off to sleep rocking her before she does. She doesn’t seem interested in rolling, even though I’m told that’s where she should be developmentally. Now give this baby to someone who values efficiency and watch chaos ensue.

Yes, I’ve had to learn to dethrone my heart’s idol of productivity. And I’ve let frustration win over patience so many times. But I’m learning that love is usually not efficient. Caring for someone means pausing the work on the to-do list. Relationships are inherently unproductive, and we invest in them anyway. So I’ll soak up the long feedings and rocking sessions for everything they’re worth because I love this little one, and for now, we can do things on her timetable. Which actually leads to my last point…

Relationships are inherently unproductive, and we invest in them anyway.

5. God’s heart toward us must be so, so tender.

One of the last books I read before I had Millie was Dane Ortlund’s Gentle and Lowly. I didn’t know it at the time, but this is probably one of the best things I could have done to prepare for parenthood. I was brought to tears as I was reminded of how compassionate the heart of God is for His children.

I don’t know any other word to describe it besides tenderness. Having Millie has brought out a tenderness in me that I’ve never felt before. There are nights that I hold her and my eyes flood with tears because I love her so much. And in those moments, I’m overwhelmed with the reality that I’m probably just getting the smallest taste of how our Heavenly Father feels about us. Those emotional moments in the nursery have led me to worship, and I’m forever grateful for them.

Alright other new mamas, did any of this hit home? What has the Lord been teaching you? I’d love to hear! (Also, buy the Huggies. Ok, I’m done.)

The Bible as a Means of Grace

I have a writing assignment that I give to my 5^th graders each fall before we dive into a year’s study of exegetical method. I’ve found that 5^th grade is a great age for kids to really start to learn what it looks like to read, study, and interpret the Bible for themselves. Before I teach them what it looks like to make good observations, find a timeless truth, and apply a passage to their own lives, we have to understand what kind of book we’re dealing with. So I start with the simple question: What is the Bible? 

Now I only have two requirements for their responses. The first is that they have to answer the question in one sentence (granted, run-on sentences are acceptable in this instance). For some kids, a one-sentence journal answer is the dream, and for others it proves to be a daunting impossibility. But I like that it forces them to be concise and intentional with their words.

My second requirement is that their one sentence cannot be “The Bible is God’s Word.” Every year I’ve gotten a collective groan when I write these forbidden words on the whiteboard. “It’s not that it’s not true,” I tell them, “But in this case, it’s a cop-out phrase that requires no critical thinking on your part and frankly, I don’t know what you mean by it.”

There’s always that one kid who wants to be Mr. Technicality and writes, “The Bible is the Word of God” because I didn’t say they couldn’t write that. But for the most part, I get a nice assortment of responses highlighting the Bible’s didactic and narrative qualities, its revelatory nature regarding God’s plan in history, and its importance in the life of a Christian, all in different sentence lengths.

Naturally, at the end of the lesson, I’ll give them my oh-so-wise one-sentence teacher answer to the question. It’s traditionally looked something like this:

The Bible is a collection of documents written within particular historical contexts and in varying literary styles, all inspired by the very Spirit of God, that come together as one unified narrative centered around Jesus Christ.

If you’re an 11-year-old, you’re overwhelmed at this point. Let’s be honest, if you’re an adult with a seminary degree, you’re overwhelmed at this point, or at least I think you should be. And of course I’m overwhelmed at this point in trying to think how in the world I’m supposed to get my mind around this 2,000 page book that was written millennia ago in weirdo dead languages and faithfully teach it to children. Also, let’s add the fact that this is divine communication. No pressure.

As much as I love my job, most days it absolutely terrifies me. I take James’ words that not many should aspire to be teachers because they will be judged more severely (James 3:1) and run them through my brain at least once a day. The awareness that I could misinterpret the Holy Bible has the potential to spur me towards reverence and awe and handling such a text carefully. It hasn’t. Instead, it’s landed me in a kind of paralysis. And maybe not externally. No, if you walked into my classroom, you’d say I sound pretty confident (and loud. Very loud. My teacher voice scares me sometimes, y’all.). But inside there’s this impulse to hedge all bets, to cover my tail, and to always prepare for the possibility that I’ve gotten it all completely wrong.

But lately I’m finding unexpected consolation as my one sentence definition of the Bible has undergone a shift. It’s not at all that I discount the validity of the words that I wrote several years ago as a brand new Bible teacher. I still agree with my former definition of the Bible. But I don’t think those are the first words from my mouth or my whiteboard marker anymore. Because if you asked me today to write a one sentence response to the question “What is the Bible?”, I think my answer would be this:

The Bible is a means of grace by which we know God.

It’s not comprehensive, but this reframing of my perspective is totally changing the way I approach my Bible. I’m starting to draw immense comfort in the thought that God’s Word is actually a means of grace for us. It’s an instrument through which God gives me Himself. Passages are becoming more of an extension of God’s kindness and less of a code to be cracked. And by code I don’t mean in a hyper-dispensationalist, “let’s add the numbers and see when Jesus is coming back” kind of way as much as a “let’s make sure we know everything we can about context so that we don’t misinterpret” kind of way.

Passages are becoming more of an extension of God’s kindness and less of a code to be cracked.

Don’t get me wrong, I think there’s always going to be a side of me that loves to dig deeper into these texts. Learning historical and literary context has been so formative in growing my faith and understanding of God’s story. But I’m also learning that sometimes it is so good for my soul to simply read this book at face value.

It’s actually become a helpful discipline for me to read the Bible with nothing but God’s Spirit to guide in my interpretation. I don’t always have to immediately jump to reading my ESV study notes. I don’t always have to have a devotional book or article on hand. I don’t always have to open my Blue Letter Bible app to check out a commentary or look up a Greek verb. This practice of just reading has grounded me in the sufficiency of the Word and the unique way that God uses it in our lives.

I remember being so rocked in college to learn that passages took on a whole new meaning after understanding certain historical nuances. Even the way you translated certain prepositions could be the difference between heresy and orthodoxy. I think I ultimately got lost in the weeds. I started to adopt this view that unless I understood it all, I could never trust my interpretations (I’d also like to thank the doctrine of Total Depravity for taking this philosophy of mine to the next level. Love you, Calvin.).

I remember this one specific time on a Greek exam, our professor asked us to write a short essay about how learning Greek had influenced our understanding of the Bible. I took this as an opportunity to vent and spewed all of my concerns to my professor. I told him that I had become terrified of interpreting the Bible for fear of doing it wrong. I was overwhelmed by the burden of correct understanding. I’m so grateful for his patience and wisdom. Because upon reading the words of his troubled student, he sent me an email that I printed and have kept to this day. He wrote:

“There is a difference between being humbled by the responsibility (which is good) and being frustrated by the responsibility (which is not good). Do we all have more to understand, new skills to acquire, more things to read, etc., ad nauseam? Absolutely, your professor included. But do not forget that the biblical text was penned by farmers (Amos from Tekoa), shepherds (that’s what David was before God made him a king), fishermen (like Peter), and reformed religious zealots (like Paul). The biblical text was not penned by scholars behind a desk, but by real people in a real world. Additionally, for every human author of the Bible, there is a Divine one. The same Spirit who inspired John to write 1 John (what we were translating at the time) is the same Spirit who illuminates you to interpret it.“

I wish that I naturally took those words to heart everyday, but I don’t. In fact, a lot of days I still feel like that fear-stricken 20-year-old cynic taking her Greek exam. But as I lean into the power of the Spirit and the belief that the Bible is truly a means of grace, I’m finding that there’s still hope for the cynic, for the perfectionist, for the over-thinker. And if one day my students forget everything I taught them about exegesis, I pray they hold onto that hope too.

I have to believe that our Lord Jesus is not hiding from us in its pages.

I have to believe that this book, independent of commentaries and dictionaries, can make wise the simple (Psalm 19:8). I have to believe that this book truly is unique in that it is living and active (Hebrews 4:12). And I have to believe that our Lord Jesus is not hiding from us in its pages. And with Peter, I’ll say that He alone has the words of life (John 6:68). Where else would I go? 

10 Things I’m Learning After a Year of Pandemic Living

A little over a year ago, on March 16^th, 2020, I was passing out Chromebooks to students and having a little bit of an emotional breakdown. That unprecedented (word of the year, anyone?) day seems like ages ago, and yet it remains perfectly clear in my memory. This was the day that the spring of virtual learning began. One Thursday we were having a staff meeting about the “potential” of having to put some material online and the following weekend we learned that that would indeed be our reality. It all felt so overwhelming. I remember only having a couple hours that Monday to throw together something that might resemble a virtual lesson plan before students arrived to pick up their materials. I remember meeting with my 5^th/6^th grade team to figure out how to set up a Google Classroom on the fly. I remember trying to keep calm and rational, only to rush out of the room in a puddle of embarrassing tears. But it’ll only be for a couple weeks, they said…

What a year it’s been. What a bizarre timestamp that has marked the story of our lives. Since passing the one-year anniversary of the start of it all, I’ve found it necessary to take the past few weeks to reflect.  

I was originally going to call this post “10 Things I’ve Learned After a Year or Pandemic Living.” But “learned” connotes too much mastery for some of these. “Learned” assumes a defined ending, a closed loop, a neat bow on top. The reality, however, is that some of these ideas are still getting ingrained in my mind and fleshed out in my life. The pandemic has seemingly just been acting as my preschool teacher.

So when I think back on the past year, here are 10 things that I’m learning about God, about myself, and about life, some significantly deeper than others:

1. Our God is near to us. I can’t tell you how much I’ve come back to this idea. In social distancing, our God is close. Seeing Jesus as Immanuel during the Advent season has never felt timelier. Just like Paul taught the people in Athens, God designates our times in history so that we will reach out for Him and find that He’s always been right there (Acts 17:26-27). COVID has made me reach, made me seek, and as a result, shown me His presence.
2. I love lipstick way more than I thought I did. Wearing a mask so often has made using it essentially pointless. My quality of life has suffered tremendously.
3. Creation reminds us of truth if we would only look. I wrote about this extensively last year when the pandemic first started (What If: Questions for a Global Pandemic). But I still can’t quit Jesus’ words in Matthew 6. The season of spring, with its birds and flowers, is a constant reminder of God’s faithfulness.
4. I don’t have the capacity for boredom. This one’s probably weird and maybe just for me, but this statement actually brought a lot of clarity to my life once I named it. The whole bored-at-home-during-quarantine narrative never resonated with me. I think my to-do lists, both productive and pleasurable, are limitless. And that’s ok.
5. We need grace-filled, face-to-face conversations. Pandemic plus politics has inevitably equaled polarization. I think giving people the benefit of the doubt goes a long way. But I also think that a real sit-down conversation is best when you don’t see eye-to-eye with someone; I frankly don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Facebook debate thread, no matter how civil, that ever truly benefited anyone.
6. If it takes a pandemic for people to learn how to wash their hands and for Chipotle to get a mobile order drive-through window, then, dare I say, we’ve found our silver lining. Enough said.
7. Sovereignty belongs to God alone. Seems obvious, right? But it’s funny how I can know that conceptually and still act like I have total control over my own life. This year has been nothing short of a liturgy of surrendering my own plans.
8. Our souls are “community-sized.” I read John Eldredge’s book Get Your Life Back a few months ago and he makes this point super well. The Internet and social media have the sometimes-wonderful ability to make the whole world accessible. But you and I are not designed to bear the grief and celebrate the joys of everyone everywhere. No wonder we’re overwhelmed. We’re made to share life in community, real community, with the people in our physical proximity.
9. Baking is therapeutic. And all God’s people said “Amen.” But seriously, as someone who works more with her brain than with her hands, I’ve found the practice of something more tactile to be ridiculously restorative. And delicious.
10. Hope is worth the risk. I’m a cynic by default. I often plan for the worst to spare myself the sting of disappointment, or at least lessen the pain. Too many times this past year I’ve rolled my eyes at the notion of a timeline of returning to a world without restrictions. Don’t get your hopes up, I quietly remind myself. But there’s a beauty, and even a necessity, of being confident of the good to come. So I’m learning to say with King David, “I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13).

So what about you? What have you been learning during this past year of pandemic living? Maybe today’s the perfect time to stop and reflect.

Members of The Fellowship of the Ring by Enneagram Type

Nolan and I recently watched The Fellowship of the Ring (extended edition, obviously) when we were both struck with the same thought: what if the nine fellowship members correlate to the nine enneagram types? Now, the likelihood of these nine characters all being different types is probably a real stretch, unless Tolkien just had some bonkers character development ideas. And frankly, can we say that we would put that past the guy? Convinced that surely there was a meme or a post floating out there in the World Wide Web, we headed for the Google search bar. And yes, there were plenty of thoughts on Lord of the Rings characters’ enneagram types, but nothing that perfectly matched the nine fellowship members to their respective types. So with some discussion and debate to clarify how these characters embody all nine motivations, we’re now staking our claim in this uncharted territory. It’s an honor, really.

I want to preface this by saying that I’m by NO means a LOTR expert. I’m also not an enneagram expert, although I’ll say I know more about this typing system than I do the regions of Middle Earth. That being said, please take the following with a good attitude and a grain of salt.

I also think I should point out the elephant (or oliphaunt in this case) in the room that this is far from being “on brand” with what’s normally on my blog. I love to write about the beauties and challenges of life, about faith, about Scripture. But I think there’s space for fun here also. And sometimes fun is dissecting the inner motivations of fictional characters. And you nerds clearly think so too because you’re reading this.

So let’s dive in, shall we?

Type 1: Aragorn

Aragorn’s the natural-born leader with a strong moral compass. He’s steady and led by his ideals, although at times he needs encouraging to live up to his potential as the rightful king.

Type 2: Sam

Always seeking to help, Sam’s the truest of true friends. He’s happy to serve the purpose of another and, in stereotypical two fashion, is always seemingly concerned about making sure people have food.

Type 3: Boromir

Also a natural leader like Aragorn, but can we just admit that Boromir is super image-conscious? His desire to make Gondor great leads to his sketchy motives around the ring, but in his death we see a resurgence of true character that would make his fellows threes proud. (FYI, Nolan is a three and gives his heartfelt stamp of approval.)

Type 4: Legolas

Ah, Legolas, you unique, beautiful unicorn. This one was automatic for us. Just doing his own thing reciting elf poetry and reading omens into sunsets. He brings a strikingly different flavor needed by the rest of his crew.

Type 5: Gandalf

Gandalf is really the brains behind the operation here (well, and the wizardry’s helpful too). He has times where he can appear aloof and withdrawn, but he ultimately offers an objective perspective and spits out wise maxims like it’s his job.

Type 6: Frodo

Frodo is pretty widely accepted as a archetypal six, as I would argue a lot of protagonists are (not like I’m biased or anything, we sixes are just the best). Super loyal to his people and responsible in his task, his crippling caution grows to an unexpected bravery.

Type 7: Merry

This is where I had to rely on Nolan’s expertise, because I’m going to be honest with you, as a subpar fan, there’s really no clear distinction in my mind between Merry and Pippin. I saw them both as pretty seven-like, just along for the adventure. But Nolan assures me that Merry personifies the fun-loving attitude and light-heartedness that we all love in our sevens. And he’s the one who came up with the scheme to steal Gandalf’s fireworks after all.

Type 8: Gimli

Let’s get past the fact that Gimli’s anger lies pretty close to the surface, although that definitely didn’t hurt our case. This dwarf is fierce. He’s going to defend the little guy (literally). He’s going to take charge when he needs to. And he’s the dose of boldness that the fellowship needs.

Type 9: Pippin

Once again, I defer to Nolan’s insight here. While Pippin is also all about the adventure, he brings a mellow “can’t-everyone-just-get-along” attitude to the group. It’s actually no surprise that he and Merry are such good friends as nines are usually drawn to sevens’ energy.

To my true LOTR gurus, did we get it right? Which types would you change? Do you identify with the character who matches your own type? What examples do you see of these types played out in the narrative? I’d love to hear your thoughts! 🙂

The God Who Illuminates: Advent Reflection #4

“…the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death…” Luke 1:78-79

No matter how much you love winter, I think we can agree that the short days and long nights deeply disrupt our daily patterns. We all know the feeling of wondering if it’s time to go to bed yet only to find that it’s 5:30 pm. Our circadian rhythms get thrown for a loop and we wonder how awkward it would be to declare our own hibernation.

I can’t imagine living in another part of the world where this phenomenon is even more pronounced. When Nolan and I honeymooned in Maine in the summer of 2016, I would awake every morning, sunlight streaming through the window, ready for the day. And then I’d see that it was 4:00 am. The opposite sounds seriously depressing. A friend of mine who recently traveled to Alaska told me about the importance of “happy lights,” mood-boosting lamps to ward off seasonal affective disorder. It makes total sense. Too much darkness really does take a toll on our psyche.

It’s really fascinating how God’s creation often mirrors some sort of spiritual truth, and darkness and light are no exception. Too much spiritual darkness is hazardous to our souls. And unfortunately, we wade knee-deep in it every single day.

Zechariah knew well what it was like to go about life surrounded by this darkness. The word that he uses in this verse to talk about this darkness carries a two-fold metaphorical meaning. Strong’s lexicon defines the term as both an “ignorance respecting divine things and human duties” and “the accompanying ungodliness and immorality.” Darkness is both a mindset and a lifestyle. More specifically, darkness is a lifestyle that proceeds from a mindset. We look around our world and we see acts of evil, but these do not happen in a vacuum. These acts are the result of an “ignorance” of the Creator and a disregard for His ways. Darkness starts within.

The sobering reality is that no one is immune. We look at our own hearts and, no matter how pious we may seem, we see traces of ignorance and disregard. We look at our own actions and can’t deny that they are tainted with darkness. We need light, a light that pierces to the deepest shadows inside. And the amazing news is that that light has come.

I absolutely cannot get over the specific image that Zechariah uses for the light that Christ brings. The light is not a blinding flash like Saul experienced on the road to Damascus. The light is not a blazing pillar of fire like the Israelites followed in the desert. The light is a sunrise, a beautiful wonder that the whole human race can experience.

Our pastor preached on this passage a few weeks ago (and if you’d like to hear someone a lot more knowledgeable and eloquent teach on this passage, you can listen here: https://www.downtownpres.org/sermons/2020/12/13/why-we-need-the-light). I was struck by his insight on the concept of a sunrise: just as we cannot stare at the sun in its full glory at its peak, we also cannot stare at the intense glory of the Father and walk away unharmed. But when the sun is first rising, we can behold its beauty, we can stare and not be blinded. Glory made accessible. Jesus was God coming to be with us in a way that our frail humanity could see. Brilliance condescended. The Divine wrapped up in the familiar.

Jesus was God coming to be with us in a way that our frail humanity could see. Brilliance condescended. The Divine wrapped up in the familiar.

Just as the lights of Christmas bring little glimmers of hope to a dark December, Jesus illuminates our dark world, our dark circumstances, our dark hearts. And the real hope is that while our Christmas lights are now coming down, the true Light still shines, and will all year long. We don’t have to wait another long year to look upon His illumination.

I don’t know where the darkness is for you right now. Maybe it’s a fresh disappointment that has already crushed the hope of this new year. Or maybe it’s an extended season of suffering, a long winter’s night where the daylight feels forever away. But can I leave you with this mantra that our pastor shared in the sermon I referenced earlier? I’ve been repeating this to my soul frequently, and I’m choosing to believe that it’s true. “Jesus is my sunrise. The darkness is doomed.”

The God Who Prepares- Advent Reflection #3

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare His ways…” Luke 1:76

There’s nothing that quite compares to the excitement of students the day before Christmas break, and this year was no exception. The 5^th and 6^th graders wiggled in their seats, all decked out in their Santa hats and Christmas pajamas, ready to go outside and play until dismissal at noon. That’s when one of my fellow teachers made an important announcement.

“While we’re gone over break,” she began, “the school’s going to be recording a series of videos to put together as a virtual tour for potential families. This means our classrooms need to be looking their best.”

You could see the excitement plummet with the collective eye-roll. They knew what was coming…

“So it’s like we’re having guests! And what does your mom make you do before guests come over?”

“Clean,” moaned 100 12-year-olds in unison. And clean they did. And then they got to go outside and play.

Preparation is a natural part of our rhythm of life, especially around the holidays. Even kids know the importance of readying a space before guests come. We decorate. We cook. We clean, clean, clean. And often times these precursory steps take up more time than the actual event itself. Our preparation denotes the importance of what is to come.

So of course it shouldn’t surprise us that Scripture tells us about the preparation needed before the Messiah shows up on the scene. Zechariah alludes to it here in his prophecy. After all, his son John would play a major role in helping the world get ready for the Son of God.

The prophets of the Old Testament spoke implicitly of John and his responsibility. Isaiah wrote, “A voice cries: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God’” (40:3). All four Gospels cite this passage in reference to John, by the way, lest we try to create an alternate interpretation. Malachi also tells us about John’s function when he explains from God’s perspective, “Behold, I send my messenger, and he will prepare the way before me…” (3:1).

The obvious next question is how did John prepare the world for Jesus. When he grew up, John’s eccentric style and straightforward preaching drew large crowds, perhaps out of curiosity more than anything. But it was his message that truly prepared the way for God in the flesh. Matthew sums up his sermons with this simple, yet profound, call to action: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (3:2).

Repentance. Preparation for the King of all kings looks like repentance. Preparation looks like turning our hearts away from pride and idolatry and turning to the Savior who was born on that first Christmas.

In all the preparation for Christmas, let’s not forget to prepare our hearts.

We remind ourselves about this kind of preparation whenever we sing, “Joy to the World.” “Let every heart prepare Him room,” we sing. We’ve readied ourselves for this holiday. We’ve baked. We’ve wrapped gifts. We’ve trimmed the tree. We’ve vacuumed 50 times, it seems. But have we repented? In all the preparation for Christmas, let’s not forget to prepare our hearts.

But wait, you might be thinking, is this not titled The God Who Prepares? What is God preparing? It sounds like this responsibility of preparation falls on me.

Well, yes and no. Yes, we must actively make the effort to turn to God today. But here’s the truth I’ve found: my ability to prepare my own heart to receive the gift of Jesus is pretty limited.

Going into this Christmas, my heart is plagued with worry, discontentment, selfishness, restlessness. I can’t rid myself of those things. I can’t make my heart squeaky clean like I can my house. This kind of preparation needs divine intervention.

I had a professor in college who always said, “That which God requires, He gives.” I think that’s a gift we can all receive going into Christmas. God requires a prepared heart, a repentant heart. This is the kind of heart that can truly appreciate and accept the birth of Christ. We, however, are unable to manufacture that type of heart on our own. Left to our own devises and bogged down with brokenness, we would never be prepared for the joy of Christmas. But praise be to the God who gives us new hearts!

Do you feel that your own heart is unprepared? Unable to genuinely celebrate all that Christmas means for one reason or another? Ask God to prepare you. That which God requires, He gives, dear friend. Let’s rejoice in our weariness. Merry Christmas to you and yours.  

The God Who Delivers- Advent Reflection #2

“…that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve Him without fear….” Luke 1:74

“Enemy” is such a strong word to me. When I think about my life personally, I don’t consider anyone to be my actual enemy. Yes, there are people who malign and hurt me. And yes, there are entire nations that stand against the religious movement that I hold to. Maybe this is my privilege talking, but “enemies” is not a category of people that I interact with on a regular basis.

Now the Israelites, they had enemies. All throughout history, God’s chosen people might as well have had targets on their backs. Persecution abounds for the Jews in the biblical narrative.

Let’s start with the Egyptians. The dominating empire enslaves the Hebrew people for centuries all the while mandating that their baby boys be drowned upon birth. The whole situation is so dark and gruesome. When God does raise up Moses to lead them out of their bondage, it sparks a celebration that carries on for generations. Whenever poets and prophets speak of YHWH’s mighty acts of rescue, it’s likely that they refer to this mass exodus.

And then there were the Babylonians. Led by the ruthless Nebuchadnezzar, this nation was responsible for forcing the Israelites out of the Promise Land and burning Solomon’s temple to the ground. Though the prophets had warned of exile and God ultimately used this as an act of judgment on His people, captivity was a season of immense pain. As with the Egyptians, God would rescue His people, this time bringing them back to the Promised Land.

And lest you think that Israel’s enemies were all corporate people groups, it only takes a quick reading of the book of Esther to be reminded that opposition sometimes came from individual figures. Here, the Persian leader Haman plots to eradicate the Jewish population through a royal edict. Once again, God comes to the rescue, this time through the boldness of a Jewish queen who advocates for her people.

Fast-forward to the time of Zechariah in Luke 1 and now the Romans take center-stage as the antagonist. The reason why God’s people have not returned to the glory days of King David is because of their oppressive rule.

So naturally, when Zechariah, and every other prophet for that matter, claims that YHWH will yet again deliver His people from the hands of their enemies through the means of a Messiah, the Jews just know that Rome’s about to get it. They draw on their knowledge of history. The Egyptian army drowned in the Red Sea. The Babylonians were overtaken by the Persians, who eventually let the Jews go home. And Haman was hanged as a public spectacle.

The birth of the Messiah was the ultimate promise of rescue. Imagine how baffled they must have been when that Man makes zero attempts to overthrow Rome. Did the prophets get it wrong?

What I think we get to see in retrospect is that there was a whole different rescue operation playing out. Jesus the Messiah came to defeat a completely different type of enemy, one that we all share and have no chance of defeating on our own:

Death.

This is the common enemy of mankind. Brutal and inescapable. No matter where you live, no matter how much money you have, no matter how much joy in life you find, it comes for you.

We’ve been sobered by our enemy’s cruel oppression this year. We’ve watched millions worldwide die because of this unexpected pandemic. We’ve witnessed the deaths of some public figures that brought a lot of perspective and joy to this life.

And we’ve felt it immensely close to home in some cases. I personally feel that the sting of death is growing as we approach the first Christmas without my Nana. “She’s in a better place” can’t totally remove the pain. Death is excruciating. It’s our enemy, after all. Where’s the rescue?

Maybe it’s pertinent that we feel the wounds of this enemy in a greater way around the holiday season. This time, of all times of the year, reminds us that this world is not what it’s supposed to be. We pine for the ideal and are instead met with a grim reality. No matter who you are, I’m sure that death is affecting you this Christmas.

Maybe it’s also pertinent that we feel the hope of the deliverance in a greater way as we reflect on the coming of the Deliverer. The Baby in the manger came for this. He came to deliver us from our common enemy. His first coming set the rescue plan into motion, and His second coming will bring it to completion. And this is not just some abstraction that carries a good sentiment at a loved one’s funeral. I really and truly, with all of my heart, believe that death is not a part of God’s people’s eternal future.

This Christmas in our weariness, in our grief caused by our greatest enemy, we can rejoice in His rescue.

This Christmas in our weariness, in our grief caused by our greatest enemy, we can rejoice in His rescue. Paul cites Isaiah 25:8 in 1 Corinthians 15:54 as he reminds us of a coming time where “death is swallowed up in victory.”  Or as Sally Lloyd-Jones puts it in the Jesus Storybook Bible, “God is making everything sad, even death, come untrue.”

The God Who Remembers- Advent Reflection #1

“…to show the mercy promised to our fathers and to remember His holy covenant…” Luke 1:72

         Broken promises hurt. And we all know the feeling. As kids, we swore solemn vows as we locked pinkies, fully trusting the other party to keep their end of the deal. But somewhere along the way we woke up to the reality that humans aren’t awesome at always following through. Selfishness and peer pressure and better alternatives creep in and the contract becomes null and void.

         But if you ask me, there’s something that’s even worse than broken promises. Forgotten promises. Don’t get me wrong, malicious violation of the terms has excruciating consequences. But there’s something about the mere slip of the memory that belittles the whole agreement. The promise was not even important enough to take up residence in the other person’s brain, and we’re left out to endure the bitter coldness of ambivalence.

         Perhaps this is why the prophets like to use the language of God remembering His covenant. I don’t think that the Israelites would have necessarily thought their Sovereign Being would have literally forgotten. However, years of inactivity sure might have made it feel that way.

         The word for “remember” that Zechariah uses here in Luke 1:72 is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew word zakar, first used when God establishes His covenant with Noah in Genesis 9:15. God has just destroyed the corrupted earth with a flood, but then makes an agreement with Noah to never do so again. Whenever the rainbow appears, God will remember, He will call to mind His promise.

         Throughout the generations, God has “zakared” all of His promises at pivotal moments. To spare the earth of the destructive waters. To grow Abram’s offspring into a great nation. To show grace to Jacob’s family. To establish David’s throne. He truly is the covenant-keeping God. 

           As I was diving deeper into this idea, I had one of those moments where I think I missed the forest for the trees. I was happily gliding down my little nerdy rabbit hole when it was like the Holy Spirit shook my shoulders to wake me up to the obvious. Ashley, WHO is saying that God remembers His promises?!?

         Zachariah. Zakar = remember. Yah = YHWH. The prophetic announcement of God’s remembering comes from a man who has literally carried that message every day of his life through his name.

         You have to wonder if Zachariah felt the irony of his name sometimes. Here he was, an old man continually disappointed on both cultural and personal levels. His people were under Roman oppression, longing for the promised Rescuer who was turning out to be a no-show. He and his wife had no heir to carry the family name, no child to love. And yet he walked around every day with people calling him “God remembers.” What a cruel joke. Talk about enduring the coldness of ambivalence. Only for Zachariah, it wasn’t his friend who forgot. It was his God.

         And then right on time, as He always does, God makes good on His promises. The baby growing in Elizabeth’s womb became the physical manifestation of Zachariah’s name. God remembered. He remembered Zachariah and Elizabeth. He remembered the nation of Israel. He remembered the whole of humanity, lost and longing for salvation. Zachariah knew it too. John was only the beginning of seeing how God was going to keep His promises. The Messiah, the One in whom all of God’s promises find their “yes,” was on His way.  And I have to imagine that for the first time in a long time, John was proud of his name. 

         This year might have felt like one big forgotten promise to you. It has for me. It’s as though the universe just overlooked all the potential that 2020 was supposed to hold. Our canceled plans, unrealized dreams, and broken relationships have left us feeling neglected. They’ve made us wonder if our God is really the promise-keeper He claims to be.

         But let Zachariah remind us of this: God remembers, friend. He remembers you. He remembers His promises to love you, to comfort you, to restore you. In our weariness, this is a truth we can rejoice in this Christmas season.   

The Weary World Rejoices

I get tired of radio Christmas music extremely quickly. It’s for this very reason that I take pride in my Spotify Christmas playlist, a perfectly curated selection (in my humble opinion) of the classics and new originals that encompasses a wide variety of genres and styles, 420 songs and counting. I think that because I am so familiar with the traditional carols, I’m always looking for new renditions to spice up the holiday soundtrack. Songs tend to bore me like that after a while.

But occasionally you’ll hear a song that you’ve heard literally hundreds of times and something new will click. A lyric that you could easily quote will resonate in a much deeper way.

“O Holy Night” did it for me this year. After this (word-of-the-year) unprecedented season, “the weary world rejoices” became the expression that I didn’t even know I needed. Because honestly, I can’t think of a better word to describe where most of us are at this point than weary. Weary of worry. Weary of checking the daily case numbers. Weary of the precautions. Weary of political tension. Weary of our own private matters that add to the stress. Weary of weariness itself.

In this season of Advent, I wanted to be intentional about rejoicing in the midst of weariness. Our “thrill of hope” is found in the coming of God Incarnate.

Over the next few weeks as we approach Christmas, I want us to consider 4 reasons why we can rejoice in the person of Christ that are specifically referenced in Zechariah’s prophecy in Luke 1:67-79. I’m guessing that Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth were well acquainted with the feeling of weariness too. Much reminiscent of their ancestors Abraham and Sarah, Zechariah and Elizabeth were unable to conceive and found themselves childless in their old age. But a divine encounter in the temple, rendering Zechariah speechless due to his initial unbelief, changed everything. Through this elderly couple, God was going to send the prophet John. John would come in the spirit and power of Elijah, one of Israel’s greatest prophets, and prepare the way for God’s own Son (see Luke 1:5-25).

John’s birth must have been the ultimate manifestation of hope for Zechariah and Elizabeth. And this was hope not only for their own personal circumstances, but also for the restoration of their entire people group. As Jews, they were well aware of the promise of a Messiah, an anointed One who would rescue them from their enemies. But Zechariah and Elizabeth had lived a long life without seeing this come to fruition. There’s no doubt that this promise seemed to grow stale after centuries of silence from the Promise-Maker.

But John’s arrival was a foreshadowing of the arrival of another Son. Through the latter, hope is realized, love is seen, peace is experienced. 

So Zechariah breaks out in song. His joyful anticipation flows poetically. This prophecy, known as the Benedictus (Latin for “blessed”), is an outpouring of praise to God for something that, at the time, He still technically had not done yet.

We, however, live after the first Advent. We look back at Zechariah’s words and see how they come to life in the person of Jesus. And we look forward to the second Advent, when these truths become our unchanging reality forever and ever.

So this December, let’s rejoice in the person of Christ, dear friends. In the weariness, let’s rejoice. I hope you’ll join me in meditating on Zechariah’s words. Wishing each of you wellness and a surprisingly merry Christmas season!

Carrying Tent Pegs

I don’t know how you choose which book of the Bible or passage to read in your own personal study. Maybe you’re directed by a devotional book. Maybe you follow a certain reading plan through an app or Bible study. Or maybe sometimes you just think “oh yeah, there’s that book of the Bible and I literally know nothing/forgot everything about it.”

I’m pretty sure pages 263-323 of my personal ESV study Bible are not accustomed to the light of day. Numbers. I know I’ve read through it once upon a time, but it was just hanging out there towards the front of my Bible with this air of unfamiliarity. Some of our curriculum at school is based in Numbers, so I’ve taught portions of it. And teaching 2^nd graders about Balaam’s donkey is an absolute riot, let me tell you. Our church even did a short series on Numbers a while back, but apart from one sermon about Nazarites burning their hair that totally disrupted me in the best way, I don’t remember a lot about it.

So I started reading the book of Numbers this summer. I was ready for long censuses and lots of grumbling with the glorious Christological picture of the bronze snake sandwiched in the middle. That’s it. I found once again that the Bible has such a pleasant way of surprising me.

Within the first couple chapters, I was already in awe of how the structure of the Israelite camp reflected who they were as the people of God. For one, the location of the tabernacle at the center of the camp gave credence to the idea that all of life was meant to revolve around the worship of YHWH. I also really love how we’re given the names of all these guys who helped Moses conduct the census in chapter one. Though they never rose to the fame or reputation of their leader, they faithfully participated in the task at hand and were recognized individually for their work.

And then there was the tribe of Levi. The Levites were given the task of guarding and maintaining the tabernacle. This tribe was divided into three subsets named after Levi’s sons: Kohath, Gershon, and Merari (take note all you trendy parents in the market for some obscure biblical baby names). Each one of these groups was responsible for specific elements of the tabernacle.

The Kohathites took care of the furniture, the most holy articles. They cared for and transported the alters, the golden lampstand, and the table of presence for the holy bread. Perhaps most important of all, they were the ones who claimed responsibility for the Ark of the Covenant. This golden box housed some of Israel’s most treasured possessions, such as the Ten Commandments, and ultimately represented the very presence of YHWH. Touching it was absolutely forbidden (a guy named Uzzah learned this the hard way and you can check out his story in 2 Samuel 6. Spoiler alert: he died.). Even these Kohathites had to wait for Aaron and the priests to cover the ark and position poles on its sides before moving it. They would then use those poles to carry it from one campsite to the next.

The Gershonites took care of the tent material itself. All the curtains and clothes and coverings were their responsibility. Unlike the holy furniture that was carried, the curtains were moved by oxcart.

And finally, the Merarites took care of the tent frame, including the posts, crossbars, and tent pegs. These were also transported on oxcarts due to their bulky nature.

Part of me wants to pause here and say that I don’t want to over-spiritualize the way that the tabernacle was transported. At the end of the day, the big tent needed to get from point A to point B and dividing the tasks among the Levitical clans was inherently pragmatic.

But there’s this other part of me that just has to wonder how some of those Merarites felt journeying through the desolate desert walking beside an oxcart loaded down with poles with tent pegs in their hands. They were following the specific instructions given to Moses by God. They were faithfully stepping into their calling. But it’s still got to make you somewhat jealous to look behind you and see second cousin Eleazar helping with the alter of incense.

Why does being a Kohathite seemingly put one in such a different position? Why do they get the honor of caring for the holy articles? It wasn’t because Kohath was the oldest son. Gershon, listed first in Numbers 3:17, was likely the eldest of his brothers, so imagine how cheated his clan probably felt.

God’s people have gotten really good at assigning value to certain tasks. We’ve been doing it for millennia. The tasks of preaching and teaching obviously gets more attention than secretarial duties. The task of international mission work is hailed as heroism while we forget about the nonprofit working for justice right down the street. The task of mothering often gets the spotlight in women’s ministrywhile we downplay the work of women who might never be in that role. The task of “ministry” is venerated whereas “normal jobs” are easy to under-spiritualize. And the task of caring for the Ark of the Covenant naturally lends itself to more respect than taking care of tent pegs.

But despite this culturally constructed hierarchy, every task is needed. Every gift has its place. It makes me think of Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth where he famously compares the Church to a body. “If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be?” he writes, “If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be?” (1 Corinthians 12:17).

I know there have been so many times in my life where I’ve gotten trapped in this comparison game. I look at the task God has given me and it seems so pointless when juxtaposed with what so-and-so is doing. Even in writing this blog post this week, I had a little moment. Ok Lord, I really think I’m stepping into my calling and obeying You, but this feels so stupid sometimes. There are people in my stage of life who write books, ok? Like, really well researched, eloquent, best-selling books. My little blog is just a tent peg by comparison.  

I can’t help but think that perhaps you’ve felt the same on some days. The task right in front of you doesn’t seem big enough, important enough, spiritual enough, or “flashy” enough. Maybe your contribution seems insignificant at best. Maybe you look around and see other believers carrying gold furniture and you’re tempted to hide your tent pegs in embarrassment.

But devotedly using your unique skill set and gifts is not only good for you and glorifying to God, but it also builds up His church. Without those tent pegs, the tabernacle wouldn’t stand properly.

So today, let’s step into the unique calling that God has placed on us, no matter how small it may seem in the grand scheme of it all. Let’s faithfully attend to the specific task that we’ve been given, and trust that God has a place for those tent pegs.