Remaining Anonymous

I walked the sunny pavement. Slowly, one footstep and then another. 

I just had a baby; my body was healing. 

And the people around me moved fast--moved to the beat of the loud music. Moved to keep up with the frantic pace of their life. 

But I had to walk slowly. 

Sometimes stitches keep your heart quieter. Sometimes Jesus slows you down to listen to His still, small voice amid the clutter and chaos of life. 

He slowed me down. And I could hear Him more clearly again. 

I needed some comfortable t-shirts. When I brought my drab findings to the boy behind the counter of the Bass store, he asked me for my first name. 

I paused. "I'd rather not," I said. And then I quipped, "I prefer to remain anonymous." 

His head jerked up, surprised. "That's ok," he spoke laughing, "I would like to live by myself in the woods." 

Sometimes anonymity is appealing. In a world where "the individual" has become all important and everyone is their own superstar. 

I wished to remain anonymous. 

And I walked down the crowded walkway again and all the sights and the delicious smells and the perfumed bodies with the sleek, smooth hair swirled around me. 

And the men in their designer clothes and their pointy shoes and the children in their Gap and Hannah-Andersen motifs. 

I saw my own image in the tinted window -- a bedraggled specimen of sleep-deprivation and baggy maternity leftovers -- the only clothes that I could fit in. 

My youthful glory-departed, my mind briefly drifted to contemplating how many stretch marks adorned my belly and when was the last time I took a shower, anyway? 

I sincerely wished to remain anonymous. 

And the world around us screams in our ears that we need to be someone, that we need to stand up for ourselves, that we need to climb the social ladder, that we need more friends, more likes, more recognition. 

That our hair, that our bodies need to be "just so," that we're not worth anything if we can't squeeze into a size 4. 

We become so caught up in the world and its twisted thinking, that we lose sight of what is really important--

Seek first the kingdom of God . . . 

Because the man, the woman who seeks His kingdom first will not be caught up in worrying about  their image. 

Their focus will be higher, their mind set on heavenly things; they'll be prepared to suffer persecution and hardship and deprivation for His sake. 

It's hard to set the things of this world aside, to take our narrow focus off of "me" and set it upon Jesus. 

It's a daily struggle for me. Because who wants to forever "remain anonymous," to shrink smaller so that Christ can shine more brightly in our bodies? 

We want to shine -- but He wants us to reflect His light, not just propel our own little spark. 

Sometimes He has to bring us low to teach us this truth -- His glory, not ours -- whether through pain or illness or through a difficult or overwhelming situation. 

"The world is too much with us," said the poet, and God is weaning our hearts from the self-love that grips this earthy terrain and hangs on too tightly to its pleasures and promises.

He's humbling our hearts for something better--

The day when we will wake and be made in His likeness, a reflection not of ourselves, but of His overwhelming, all-beautiful grace. 



You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, SDG Gathering, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Motivate and Rejuvenate Mondays, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Theology Thursdays, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Thought Provoking Thursday, Every Day Jesus, Count My Blessings, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Blessing Counters Link Party, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Saturday Soiree Blog Party, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, Faith and  Fellowship Blog Hop, Motivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-Up, A Little R&R Wednesdays. TGI Saturdays Blog Hop. Totally Terrific Tuesday, RaRaLinkup
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Photo Credits:
1.MikeKalasnik / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0)  

2.Collin Key / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)  

Beauty is a Cross

I have to admit it; I Googled it more than once.

Did she have the baby, yet, I wondered? 

And was it a boy or a girl? 

And what was she wearing when she made her first appearance, precious, tiny baby-soul in arms, her husband dotingly beside her? 

I read an article in passing-- something about how she plans to regain her figure as soon as possible after having the baby, what she uses to prevent stretch marks, how she styles her hair so flawlessly, has such keen fashion sense... 

We can become caught up in things like this-- lives of famous people, lives of "beautiful" people, because they intrigue us, because they seem somehow "other" than us, because we just can't envision ourselves without swollen ankles  a few hours after delivering a baby, because maybe we gained just a few too many pounds, because maybe we're genetically prone to stretchmarks even if we didn't... 

And all of these things have been swirling in my mind, in between the taking care and the nurturing and the loving my two babies-- a two-and-a-half-year-old and an 11-month-old--

And I have to confess-- that I marveled a moment and thought, "How does she look so "together" right after having a baby?" 

Soon after, this thought came, too-- all of that, all of the perfection and the smooth hair and the flawless skin and the straight teeth and the attentive husband  gives an appearance of beauty--

But real beauty goes deeper, goes beyond-- all of these external things that fascinate us and that hold our attention for a moment. 

What is real beauty?

And immediately the image of the 21 men in orange suits came into my mind... the image of them kneeling on the beach, each one's lives taken for the sake of the cross of Jesus. 

Real beauty is a cross. 

And real beauty is taking up His cross daily, no matter the cost to ourselves. 

Real beauty is serving; real beauty is sacrificing and laying aside our own interests for the interests of others. 

Real beauty isn't about being in the spotlight, but in the shadows, pointing to Christ, decreasing that He may become more. 

Real beauty is worn hands from serving and washing dishes and washing clothing and washing babies-- the heavy, humbling work of love.

Real beauty is worn knees from praying and pleading and surrendering before the throne of grace. 

And real beauty isn't perfume and makeup and tailored clothing and toned arms and tanned legs. 

Real beauty is the nail-scarred hands of Jesus, taking our sin upon His shoulders.

Real beauty isn't a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns--a crown of surrender, of suffering, of dying--so that others may live. 

Real beauty is the missionary who has given his life to become "lost" in the eyes of this world, to be found by disease, hardship, pain and sacrifice. To suffer the loss of all things in order to gain what cannot be lost. 

Real beauty is pain that is transformed to glory by the grace of Christ.

Real beauty is Kara Tippetts and her long struggle to finally be made whole on the arms of Jesus.

Real beauty is suffering that is transformed into thankfulness, the joy that is hushed and bold and real and unshakable.

Real beauty is a cross. 

Real beauty is Jesus. 

We look at the things of this world, the things of this life, 

And we marvel at their sparkle and their shine and their glow.

These things will fade, leave us wanting, grasping at something that slips through our fingers, even though we lace them tightly together. 

We can't hold on to youth, or wealth, or fame, or strength. 

They fade.

It's when we relinquish all of these things into the loving, nail-scarred hands of Jesus that we gain life. 

Through death that we live.

Through suffering that we are sanctified.

We embrace Christ.

And in embracing, find real Beauty and live. 

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, Inspire Me Monday, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, SDG Gathering, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Motivate and Rejuvenate Mondays, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, Testimony Tuesday, Tell His Story, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Women With Intention Wednesdays, Messy Marriage, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Theology Thursdays, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Thought Provoking Thursday, Every Day Jesus, Count My Blessings, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, The Weekend Brew, Blessing Counters Link Party, The HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link Up, Grace and Truth Linkup, Faith Filled Friday, Saturday Soiree Blog Party, Tell It To Me Tuesdays, SHINE Blog Hop, Faith and  Fellowship Blog Hop, Motivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-Up, A Little R&R Wednesdays. TGI Saturdays Blog Hop. Totally Terrific Tuesday

Para-sailers, Props, and Freedom to Walk on the Waves . . .

May the love of Jesus fill me, as the waters fill the sea -

Him exalting, self abasing, this is victory.

--Kate B. Wilkinson

The wind stole around us as we neared the ocean's edge.

And we left the stroller and climbed down to the rocks, near the delightfully-refreshing waves. 

It was a hot, sticky day, the sun smoldering, the air tepid and still. 

We walked here for refreshment and a change of scene before supper. My husband pushed Debbie along, her chubby legs swinging in the heat. 

I carried our two-week-old baby, trying to get used to the wrap that he was neatly tucked inside, thinking for a brief moment of the Middle-eastern women who wore their babies with such ease, the wrap an aid to help them with their work. 

I needed some help . . . 

And we touched our feet on the rocks near the shore and Debbie threw them into the great water one by one, her little self delighted in the splashes that followed. 

My husband skimmed shells over the waves and we watched while a para-sailer performed there in the ice-blue water.

I marveled at his skill, which was impressive and then a thought came to me-- "Jesus could walk on the waves without any equipment." 

And I looked into the sky and saw the great kite that carried his board and that aided him over the vast expanse of the ocean. 

There were sea birds, soaring in the sky near him -- without ropes, without props -- just doing what God made them to do -- soaring--next to that para-sailer in the wind. 

God gave them wings, and God created them to fly -- the God who also walked on waves and calmed the raging sea in the storm.

Sometimes I think that I need all of this "equipment" to do what God has called me to do--

At times when He is teaching me to walk by faith, I grow afraid and reach out for my great kite, for my strings, for my life-vest.

And although it is good to take precautions, to be prepared, sometimes I rely upon these things rather than upon Jesus, who would have me cast my self upon Him and let go of my "props". 

Now, I have nothing against para-sailers-- I only use them as an example here -- They are fascinating to watch-

And I have nothing against "props" to make life easier -- My Maya wrap has been an incredible help to me -- and so has my baby swing, my car-seats, and my daily cups (plural!) of coffee. 

But ultimately, I need to realize that it is Jesus who brings me through the day -- These things can be a help, but they are not the ultimate answer. 

And it's Him working through me that enables me to do anything that is worth anything, that has lasting value. 

When I try to hold onto my props, to my methods, apart from Him, it's just a performance. 

But His grace, His power working in and through us gives purpose. 

I want to exchange performance for purpose -- His purpose -- His will daily being worked out in and through me. 

I'd like to walk on the waves figuratively, taking His strength for each day--allowing Him to bend my heart and my will into the conformity of His purposes for me.

It's difficult for me to let go of my props, to walk by faith. 

It's easier to hang on to our ropes and our sail and our board. 

But when we do, we are lifted up, high into the great gust of His wonder and purpose, like the sea birds who dip into the wind and have no fear. 

His love enables us not to fear--

And to walk, to fly, by faith. 

But those who wait on the Lord
Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint

Isaiah 40:31

 

 

Photo credits:
1. bill85704 / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)  

2. Andrew Morrell Photography / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-ND 2.0)

3.By Paul Bril [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

When You're Alone

The whole earth is at rest and quiet;

They break forth into singing.

Isaiah 14:7

The last day of duck hunting is over and 100 Acre Cove is quiet, serene. 

No gunshots, no wounds, no fear. And the Cove laughs, rejoices again. 

I rejoice. 

Tired of hearing the gunshots early every morning. Tired of wondering how many gentle, innocent ducks were slaughtered for sport, for pleasure.

In the new earth there will be no more death, and no more fear, and no more wounding of another living thing for pleasure's sake alone--not for food to feed a family, but because of blood-lust and slaughter for slaughter's sake. 

100 Acre Cove is silent. Peace and grace to my soul; creation laughs and sings.

Another day. 

My Mama stands by the side of the water and feeds her ducks, feeds them while the cold, aching wind whips her hair and her old faded coat. 

And she smiles with pleasure. 

She buys big bags of whole corn, which she says will "keep them warm." 

She feeds the sweet wild ducks and the farm ducks that some cold person "dumped" here, and she smiles and she worries over whether they have all gotten enough and how much longer the winter will be and when "they" will prohibit the feeding of ducks. 

And she throws the corn and the ducks come and they eat and are kept alive for one more day. 

Talk about the eco-system and the balance of life and death and the ducks becoming dependent. 

And we have built so many houses and crushed so much of their territory, is it really a big deal if my Mom keeps some helpless ducks alive? 

I'm not going to stop her. 

 And there is one duck who hobbles over to her, hungrier than the rest, with a broken wing that healed improperly. 

One lonely duck, making her way through life, trying to eat enough corn to survive, pitiful and helpless, totally dependent. 

Some people would say to let that duck die--would I?

Not one sparrow falls to the ground apart from My notice . . . 

And some of our brothers and sisters are like that duck and I watch my Mom feeding the friendless broken bird and think of what she said to me--

"It's different when you're alone . . . " 


And some people are like that lonely duck, all by itself, a broken wing that will never lift it up in flight again, and totally dependent upon the mercy of someone to take pity upon it. 

It's different when you're alone.  

Grace and peace be theirs in abundance . . . 

There is a woman I know who lost her husband to cancer and she stills wears her wedding ring and she smiles joy and she sings in the choir and she serves. But it is different when you're alone. 

And she is freer than others to serve the Lord and she does with a beautiful heart and a kind smile and a sensitivity born out of loss. 

It's different when you're alone. 

And they are a little nearer to Jesus because nothing comes in between. 

He is their Portion and their Keeper.

  The sweet ducks chase the corn over the ice and the broken-winged duck struggles to keep  up. 


My Mom's corn is her mercy. 

And there are no more gunshots to fear. 

None now; none in the new earth. 

Praise Jesus. 

He prayeth well

Who loveth well

Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best

Who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God 

Who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.

--Samuel Taylor Coleridege

(from The Ancient Mariner)

 

Bearing Fruit

What depths of sin my heart has known

Pressed ever downward by His Law

While all-despairing bow my head

For I cannot for sin atone



The good I do is filthiness

For all in pride my good is done

And in my own sufficiency

For I am all unrighteousness



But when I flee from my vain strength

To bring my burden to His feet

The day grows bright; the birds are glad

When all my own resource is spent



He takes my sad, despairing heart

Into His great and gentle hands

He says "My grace alone will do--

And you must ne'er from Me depart"



Abide in Me to do the things

That I have given you to do

The branch bears fruit when it remains

Upon the vine-then life it brings