What’s in a picture?

Posted on May 3, 2013 by Julie

One of the things I’ve always loved about God is His nearness, that He’s close by, not distant… as if I have an invisible hand pressed against the small of my back prompting me on.

My memories confirm this… like the time as a 5 year-old little girl, I went with my family to Disneyland. I was riding on my Daddy’s shoulders, walking down Main Street, heading for Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. The sky was sunny and blue, and I can even remember wearing my Mickey Mouse ears hat with my name written in cursive on the back. So, there I was, riding on my Dad’s shoulders, and I didn’t have a care in the world. I felt safe. Even with the crazy crowds at Disneyland, I felt his strong arms around me and I knew he loved me; I knew he would protect me.

I think this is why I’ve always known God was close. Because my parents loved me and took care of me, I had no problem believing that Jesus would love me and take care of me. But of course, little girls grow up. And I couldn’t live at Disneyland, riding on Daddy’s shoulders.

… … …

Fifteen years later I found myself with another man on a metal bridge in London. Typical for London, the weather was cold and raining, but I was crying. I was with my boyfriend – the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. We had met two years earlier, and our relationship consumed me. I wanted to share his love, his opinions, his plans for the future – we had talked about changing the world.

But on that gray bridge in London, I couldn’t have felt more alone. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. But I do remember that he used his words to hurt me. They would cut at my heart like a knife. Throughout our relationship he would drop little comments about my hair or my weight – just enough to let me know that he was dissatisfied with me.

On that bridge I realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was, and I was afraid. I know now that God was there on that bridge – close by, but I couldn’t see Him, and I didn’t reach out for Him.

… … …

Fast-forward 20 years… It seems like just the other day, I was walking through the Walmart parking lot with my youngest son, Andrew. Cars moved in and out of parking spaces, so he slid up close to me and took my hand. He just grabbed my hand, but it was like he was saying, “I want to be near you, Mommy. I trust you.” It felt good to be trusted. A busy parking lot can be a scary place to a nine-year-old, but Andrew knew that if he was near me, he would be safe.

I think it’s the same lesson I learned all those years ago at Disneyland with my Dad… and on the bridge in London. I think God is still trying to teach me: “Stay close to me, Julie. I’ll keep you safe. Take my hand, I’ll lead you on”

But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds. Ps. 73:25

What snapshots from your life tell you something about God? Do you see? Are you listening?

photo credits: Mainstreet, USA; Metal Bridge

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A little bit of this and that

Posted on April 29, 2013 by Julie

The thought struck me today: Life is like a good potato salad, smooth, buttery goodness; some crunch; the pizazz of color, and the bite of vinegar… but taken all together, totally satisfying.

I know someone reading this might not be a fan of potato salad. For me, it’s more of an adult taste. Not something I enjoyed as a kid. I think I needed to develop an appreciation for mushy. If that’s not proof of maturity, I don’t know what is.

Regardless of your tastes concerning potato salad, I’d love for you to hear out my analogy. A life, to reach “satisfying,” has to embrace a variety of ingredients. The potato foundations of family, faith, and friendship provide the canvas on which all other experiences lie. Crunchy celery and fava beans, my add-ins of choice, give texture to the mixture, like hobbies and interests bring variety and depth. Bright watercress, a surprising addition, reminds to me to delight in unexpected beauty. And vinegar. Tangy vinegar stands for suffering; searing but essential if my life will come to mean anything in the great banquet of the Kingdom of God.

So, that’s what came to me as I prepared my lunch today. I just pulled the ingredients together from what I had in the frig and pantry. The more exotic things were in my organic produce share this week. Isn’t that like life? We make do with what we are given — the everyday and the exotic.

I’d love for you to share your thoughts on what ingredients make your life “satisfying.”

Fava Bean and Japanese Sweet Potato Salad

2 medium Japanese sweet potatoes (or any other sweet potato), peeled and cut in chunks
1 large russet potato, peeled and cut into chunks
1 lb fava beans, shelled, blanched, and shelled again (see how to prep fava beans here)
small handful of watercress, chopped
2 green onions, chopped
2 stalks celery, sliced on diagonal
2 T apple cider vinegar
1/4 C. sour cream
1/4 C. mayo
1 T. dijon mustard
1/2 t. dried tarragon
quite a bit of freshly ground garlic salt or plain sea salt
freshly ground pepper

Plop the sweet potatoes in a large pot of boiling water. Boil for 8 minutes. Add the russet potatoes and boil for another 3-4 minutes till the potatoes are easily pierced with a fork. When they are done, immediately drain them in a colander and run under cold water. Place them in a large mixing bowl, and sprinkle the vinegar over the still warm potatoes. Toss gently with a spoon.

While the potatoes are cooking, take care of the fava beans according to these instructions. Then add them to the potatoes. Add in the watercress, celery, and green onions.

In a small bowl, combine the sour cream, mayo, dijon and tarragon. Add salt and pepper to taste. Gently combine the dressing with the potato mixture and chill in the frig or eat warm. If it tastes bland to you, add more salt and pepper, and maybe even a bit more vinegar — it’s essential.

Bon appetit!

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A Touch

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Julie

I woke up this morning thinking of the Widow of Nain.

As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”

Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. Luke 7:12-15

Jesus doesn’t shy away from the wailing and the grieving. He perceives the hopelessness and breaks in. Not concerned with propriety, he stops the funeral procession mid-step. He sees what’s broken and sets it right.

He knows… a mother shouldn’t have to bury her son.

… … …

A little over a week ago, my friend’s son took his own life. Today is his 15th birthday.

And every time I think of my friend, my heart breaks. Somehow the darkness became so dark, her son didn’t see any other options. For the rest of their lives, my friend, her husband, and their other children will have an indelible blot on their stories… a pain to share that words fail.

So when I think of the widow of Nain and how Jesus touched her, I think, “Sure. Jesus brought her son back to life. It’s easy to believe he’s good. Easy to believe he’s the Son of God. Easy to follow him after something like that. “

But my friend’s son… he’s not coming back. Somehow, the Destroyer got ahold of his mind and convinced him that there are some things that Jesus can’t touch, can’t redeem. He took the pen and wrote the ending to his story, “There’s no hope. Period.”

Does Jesus still have a touch in the midst this kind of pain? When questions swarm unanswered, does Jesus still step in and set things right? Will they ever “be right” again?

I don’t know. Some things simply lay beyond my understanding — sad things and glorious things.

But, I do know that when questions scream beyond reason, or when I feel like I’m breaking at the seams, the cross stands firm. The unshakeable act of Jesus Christ dying on a wooden cross to pay for my sin shines true in the darkest night. He saw this grief. He saw these tears. He saw these questions and went to the cross with them in mind.

There are answers at the cross, because there’s love at the cross. Love that reaches beyond the this-is-not-what-we-were-created-for pain of death. Love for the grieving, and the hopeless, and the lost.

Have you felt the touch of Jesus at the cross?

cemetery statue photo: © Ladykassie | Dreamstime Stock Photos &Stock Free Images

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Not the end

Posted on March 30, 2013 by Julie

Lazarus was sick. Maybe it was staying out late fishing in the rain that turned his cold to the worst. Maybe the infected cut on his hand from mending the nets had turned to gangrene, or a pounding ache in his head that won’t go away. But now, his sisters Mary and Martha had exhausted their salves and home remedies. They sent for Jesus. They needed the Healer.

But Jesus didn’t show up. It wasn’t for lack of love for Lazarus, but because he loved him. He wanted Lazarus to experience God’s glory.

When Jesus finally made his way to Bethany, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Mary and Martha’s grief overwhelmed them. They both came to him with questions…

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (Luke 11:21 and 32).

Lovingly, Jesus met them in their pain. He mourned death. He wept. But Jesus knew something they didn’t know. Jesus knew about belief so strong that it conquers death. Jesus knew about resurrection and life — real life.

At the tomb, Jesus showed them.

He told them to roll away the stone.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” (Luke 11:39-40)

… … …

Oh, how many times I have faced a brother’s tomb and come to Jesus with questions?

When a brother betrays his wife with years of a secret addiction; when a brother takes a joy-ride in his father’s sports car and kills his best friend in the accident; when a brother smiles, but in the end sees no option but to end his own life…

I ask, “Where were you, Jesus? Couldn’t you have seen what was happening and stopped it? Couldn’t you have stepped in? You’ve healed others, why not my brother!”

Patiently he tells me roll away the stone of my doubts. Gently, he asks me to believe. Quietly he whispers.

“I know it hurts. Remember Gethsemane? But I know how the story ends. It’s for God’s glory. Trust me. The grave is not the end.”

“I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die” (Luke 11:25-26).

This, friends, is the beauty of Easter.

What a wonderful Savior.

… … …

boy walking photo credit: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

empty tomb photo credit: icr.org

Check out Institue for Creation Research for an article on the impact of the empty tomb. It’s a great read!

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Encountering Jesus

Posted on March 29, 2013 by Julie

I pulled this post from the archives. It seemed appropriate in remembrance of the crucifixion and resurrection. Where do you take your botched responsibilities?

… … …

When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the 30 pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders. ”I have sinned,” he said, “for I have betrayed innocent blood.”

“What is that to us? they replied. “That is your responsibility.”

When Pilate saw that he was getting no where, but instead that an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in the front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. ‘It is your responsibility!” Matt. 27:3-4, 24

What an interesting parallel between Judas and Pilate… responsibility.

Judas had followed Jesus closely for three years. Judas had sat under his teaching, watched him heal blind, and broke bread with him. Judas got it all wrong… the betrayer.

Pilate had only one brief interview with Jesus. One cryptic conversation probably left him with more questions than answers. Pilate ducked out and missed it… the dodger.

When the innocence of Christ’s blood rises up before him, Judas only sees his responsibility. Actually, he sees his culpability, his blame. It grips him around the throat and pulls him under. He sees no option other than to take his own life. He doesn’t see Jesus’ offer for a new one. Responsibility blinds him to it.

When Christ’s innocence stares Pilate in the face, he lets his desire for peaceful public relations get the better of him. He abdicates his responsibility and kowtows to the crowd. In washing his hands of the innocent man’s blood, he only implicates himself further. The irony jumps out and grabs him – for only in washing himself in Jesus’ blood would Pilate find the truth he is seeking. But Pilate misses Jesus’ offer of new life. Responsibility disguises it.

Two men. Two encounters with responsibility. One overcome with the weight of it. One skirting the glory of it. Both blinded. Both guilty. Both forever tied to the story of Christ’s death that brings life.

Some might argue that it’s unfair to hold either Judas or Pilate responsible for Jesus’ death. After all, it was God’s plan. Jesus said so. This is why he came – to die. Judas and Pilate were simply pawns in God’s chess match with the evil one. How can they be responsible?

True. God’s intention was to have Jesus Christ die on man’s behalf. But even truer is the fact that my sin put Jesus on that cross just as much as Judas’ betrayal or Pilate’s poor judgment. My sin… and your sin… drove Jesus to the cross. We are all responsible for the innocent man’s blood.

But our confrontation with our guilt doesn’t have to end in despair or disillusion like it did for Judas and Pilate. Not if we know who to bring it to.

See, Judas sought the religious leaders for absolution. All he got was his blood money thrown back in his face. Pilate sought the crowd for answers. All he got was “Crucify him!” slammed in his face.

But you and me?

With all our botched responsibilities, we can come to Jesus and get nail-pierced hands cupping our face, and love-laden eyes washing over our face, and grace-filled words warming our face saying, “My child, your sins are my responsibility. You are forgiven. Now, come, follow me.”

What a wonderful Savior.

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Do bunnies lay eggs?

Posted on March 27, 2013 by Julie

I’ve always been a little disturbed by the commercialization of Easter. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

Dying chicken eggs, hiding them, only to hunt for them later in the day? A big rabbit hopping into my bedroom at night leaving a basket full of candy and toys?

Really?

What is it really about, anyway?

It’s about the brokenness at the cross. It’s about new life. It’s about the way God lavished his grace on each of us through Jesus.

If that’s news to you, I’d like to show you a video. It’s God’s invitation to a relationship with him… extended to you.

So what’d you think? No bunnies. No eggs or candy. Just life the way it’s intended to be. Want some?

photo credit: © Frenc | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

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A gift

Quote

Posted on March 15, 2013 by Julie

My friend gave me flowers today.
Creamy and fragile, lace-like.
Blue-tinged puff balls balancing on sturdy stalks.

My friend brought me flowers today.
Unexpectedly, with dancing brown eyes and an inviting hug.
Just because we’re friends.

My friend gave me flowers today.
Now they linger on my counter.
A fragrant reminder that love and friendship
Are mine.

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Getting Through

Posted on March 13, 2013 by Julie

How strange prayer is. Sometimes it feels like God is right in the room with me, hearing my heart, leading the way. Sometimes I feel like God and I are just missing each other — I’m not getting through.

It reminds me of how I felt flying into Rio de Janeiro a few years ago.

RioLuggage

The flight went smoothly enough… until we landed at the airport. My co-worker, Denise, and I sailed through customs and walked out into a crowd of greeters. As we scanned the sea of expectant eyes, not one pair looked back at us with recognition. Our friend, Janie, who had asked us to come to Brazil to train her new music staff, was simply not there. So, we gathered our luggage and stood in a conspicuous place. After a half hour of anxious waiting, we decided we needed do something.

So, we prayed.

God you know where Janie is, you know where we are. Please help us find each other.

Our cell phones were dead, but we found a bank of pay phones. They looked equipped to take credit cards. I swiped, but nothing happened. I swiped again, nothing. A man using the phone next to me pantomimed that the phone didn’t take credit cards. We needed to buy a prepaid phone card. So, after more pantomiming and broken English with a security guard and the women at an airport pharmacy, I finally purchased the critical calling card. All the while, Denise stood sentry in the airport, on the lookout for Janie.

I had three phone numbers for our friend. Two cell numbers and a home number. I tried the first cell number and only received the Brazilian equivalent of the Verizon operator. The second number rang and rang and rang. No luck. I tried each number again. Nothing. Reluctantly, I dialed the land line, praying for someone to answer the phone, but not wanting it to be Janie. I knew that she lived at least an hour from the airport. As the phone rang, I whispered, “She better not be home, she better not be home.” To my surprise a young woman answered the phone.

“Janie?”

“No. blah, blah” – something in Portuguese.

“Do you know where Janie is?” I formed each word slowly.

Hesitation. “I – don’t – speak English.”

“Yes, you do. You just did!” Finally someone to help me! “I am Julie. I’m at the airport. Do you know where Janie is?”

Pause. “Janie airport.”

“We can’t find her,” I answered, trying to hide the desperation in my voice.

Silence. “Oh, OK. I call. I tell her call you. Number?” So I gave her the phone number of the pay phone, praying that she had been taught numbers in the English classes she had obviously taken.

Soon, the pay phone rang and on the other end I heard … Janie. Contact! She hadn’t forgotten us. She wasn’t lost. She had been waiting in another section of the airport all this time.

Ten minutes later, Janie greeted me with “Hey Julie, baby!” She and her friend Maita were hugging us and throwing our bags in her car.

It was a rough landing, but finally, we had arrived.

See how that’s like prayer?

Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like I’m getting through. Like I have the wrong number, or I just connect with an automated operator at the other end. Does God read pantomime? Do I need a translator?

But really, God sees what I don’t. He wants me to trust him to work it out in his timing. I’m learning to do that. And soon I know I’ll hear, “Hey Julie, baby! I was here all the time.”

… … …

I linked this story up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory. This is good stuff!

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Gettin’ Creative

Posted on March 8, 2013 by Julie

I live with a creative bunch — they all excel in music, in writing, in solving puzzles, in making cool stuff out of Legos.

You may wonder, how does a mama compete with all that?

In the kitchen.

I’m so pleased with how my lunch of leftovers (read: “There’s nothing good in the frig to eat Mom!”) turned out, I just had to share it with you! All the measurements are approximate because it was, after all, whatever I had on hand.

Pork and Veggie Fried Rice Scramble - serves 2 hungry people

one small onion, chopped
one section of red bell pepper, chopped
two smallish carrots, thinly sliced on a diagonal
one stick of celery, diced
any other veggies you need to use up: broccoli, mushrooms, zucchini

Heat a large skillet with 1 Tablespoon of sesame, peanut or coconut oil. Drizzle in toasted sesame oil of you have it. Saute veggies in oil still soft.

one leftover cooked porkchop, diced (or chicken if that’s what you have)
1 T. fresh ginger, finely diced (if you have it)
2 fresh garlic cloves, pressed (if you have them)
1 cup leftover cooked rice (been in the frig for a day or two)
2-3 eggs, lightly beaten with a fork

Add meat and spices. Saute till heated through. Mix in the rice and a bit more sesame oil if needed to keep everything from sticking. Push the veggie, pork, rice concoction to one side of your skillet and pour in the eggs to the empty side. Push the eggs around with your spatula or wooden spoon till barely set, then gently incorporate the cooked eggs into the rice mixture.

2-3 T. hoisin sauce, soy sauce, teriyaki sauce or any SoyVay sauce (my favorite!)
handful roasted peanuts or almonds (everything tastes better with nuts!)
handful chopped cilantro (I didn’t take the time to chop this, but it would have been yummy.)

Gently fold in whatever asian sauce you have on hand. Mound into flat bowls and sprinkle with nuts. Watch your teen age son spoon it into his mouth, barely taking time to breathe.

So this is me being creative. A rewarding venture. It’s the simple things that make me smile.

What simple things to you do for others that make you smile?

I joined up Ann Kroeker for her Food on Fridays Carnival. Pop over there and read about her meditation on an onion. I loved it!

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A Clear View

Posted on March 6, 2013 by Julie

Growing up in the Los Angeles basin, on clear days, I had an amazing view of the San Gabriel Mountains… Mt. Baldy, Lake Arrowhead and Big Bear. They would truly take my breath away on crisp February mornings dusted with snow. Those mountains rooted me and made me feel secure.

I could orient myself by the mountains. Heading south on the 57 freeway to Orange County, they graced my rearview mirror. Heading east on the 10 toward Ontario, they stood to my left. Heading north on the 605 to Pasadena, they stretched out in front of me. The mountains gave me something to measure against, unmoving and true.

I missed them when I moved to the midwest. I miss them still in Orlando. I need to look to other landmarks to get my bearings.

“… in view of God’s mercy…” Romans 12:1

Is viewing God’s mercy a centering, grounding reality in my life like my view of the San Gabriel’s? God’s mercy tells me a lot about my relationship to him. It shows me where I stand with him: not deserving, but receiving forgiveness. It reveals the true character of my heart: bent toward sin, but set free in the Spirit. It broadcasts the greatness of my salvation: nothing I did, but everything God did for me.

Fog

So do I have a clear view?

In LA sometimes the haze would settle in and obscure my view. The mountains would look fuzzy or disappear altogether. Well, they didn’t disappear. They remained in their fixed position — unchanging. I just couldn’t see them as clearly.

So what clouds my view of God’s mercy — fear of what others think of me, feeling like I don’t fit in, not taking time to rest and meditate on God’s goodness. His mercy remains solid and true, but I fumble around unable to get my bearings.

Oh God, clear out the haze. Let my view be crystal clear of all that your mercy means… today. Thank you for holding true and never changing, no matter how thick the fog.

What clouds your view of God’s mercy?

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