Author: made4eternity

Pretty incredible, that, considering I deserve to go just as much as everyone else on earth.

Pastor preached on the destiny of the lost  on Wednesday night. Despite the urgency and somberness of the topic, it wasn’t a “fire and brimstone” rant. It was a simple, matter-of-fact, serious look at hell. That was enough.

Hell needs no embellishment. The message based on passage after passage of Scripture gripped me. I left with a deep thankfulness in my heart that by God’s grace I am saved from such a tormented eternity. I also left with a deep sadness for the billions who are going there because they have rejected the good news that Jesus Christ paid for all their sins and rose again so that they could live eternally with God, rather than be separated from him in the Lake of Fire.

The Bible tells us that he who believes that message “is not condemned.” (John 3:18)

Jesus did the work. I believed in him. I’m not going to hell. You don’t have to go either; the choice is yours.

See the “good news” link up top for more info.

I haven’t posted in a while because I was in PA visiting my mom and 4 of my 6 siblings. Mom came back to the States to take Noah to college. If you live an ocean away from each other, you tend to take advantage of being on the same continent. It was a good time, even if it was (as always) too short. But that’s the way this life is.

Tomorrow I head to TN for my 10 year reunion. I’m loving this summer!

Onward.

“Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.” – Augustine

Take a minute to wonder  today.

Psalm 139:14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Like Adam and Eve, I often hide from God when I’ve sinned. I’ll do anything to avoid “eye contact” with my Father. I’ll read, I’ll do email, I’ll listen to the radio, I’ll do anything but turn to him. It’s so true, that verse in Isaiah 59: “but your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God”. Even as his child, I feel the wall I’ve put up as surely as if I’d built it from cinder blocks with my hands. It’s hard and harsh and cold. I hate it.

I know I’ve received eternal forgiveness for my sins, but daily I need parental forgiveness. I need to confess (say the same thing about) my sin, and have my heart cleansed by my Daddy.

I feel out of place, coming before the Holy One dirty with sin. My heart is burdened, my head is down, my guilt causes me to slink and shuffle in the shadows. Amazingly, I don’t have to do that.

Hebrews 4:16 “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

As God’s child, there’s no need for cowering in the shadows at the edge of the room. I can come before him with confidence. “Confidence”  does not mean being cavalier and careless about sin. It simply means I can be fully assured of God’s grace, mercy, and free forgiveness whenever I am in a “time of need”.

And that time comes around an awful lot.

I was thinking more about the lack of grace in the world, and how deeply the concept of “undeserved favor” goes against our human nature. How many times have I heard “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”? We are all skeptical of something we didn’t earn, something we don’t deserve. “Where’s the catch?” we ask.

We don’t naturally “get” grace.

People who hear the good news of free salvation by grace through faith for the first time are waiting for the catch. “Nah,” they say, shaking their heads, “I’ve still gotta do something. I’ve gotta at least pray a prayer, or get baptized, or go to church, or be kind to my neighbor. There’s no such thing as free lunch, you know.”

Free lunch? Maybe not. Free salvation? Yes, it’s true.

Others try to sneak works in the back door. “Well, it’s free, but if I go out and murder someone, then I’ll lose it.”  Sounds to me like you’re just trying to pay your way after the fact. You can’t.  Jesus already paid for every sin (and all of ours were future at that point). He paid for the pack of gum you stole in 1st grade. And if, God forbid, you take a life some time in the future, he paid for that sin, too.

“For the wages of sin is death” Romans 6:23a

Jesus paid that wage when he died in our place. As he hung on the cross, among his last words were:

It is finished [paid in full]” John 19:30

Grace is not deserved and, amazingly, it’s free because of the cross. The payment has been made.

Believe it, and you will know grace in a graceless world.

The longer I live, the more experiences I have with “gracelessness”. The world is ugly, mean, blunt, self-serving and unforgiving, which makes sense as it pretty much reflects our collective sin natures.

That’s what’s so amazing about God’s grace. Whenever I encounter the world’s lack of undeserved favor, I need to be reminded how graced I am. Every second I spend out of hell “is gravy”, as I heard a preacher say recently. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. My eternal destiny is heaven, my time on earth is a vapor (and often a beautiful vapor at that).

I love those moments when I see his grace in my circumstances and through other believers. I’m unspeakably grateful that it is in spite of ugly, mean, self-serving, unforgiving me.

We are smack dab in the middle of VBS here in southeastern Wisconsin, and it’s such a joy to share the Good News with these young’uns. Each day, we have a “thought for the day”. Yesterday’s was: “Believing Christ died, that’s history; believing Christ died for me that’s salvation!”

There are few sweeter things to hear from the mouth of an exuberant 4-year-old.

Last night a bunch of us went down in the “frigid” air (60s! in July) by the Lake to hand out tracts and strike up spiritual conversations with Festa Italiana goers.

A big part of me would have liked to just stay home and hide under the covers rather than stick my neck out for Jesus Christ, but there are people out there on their way to hell. When I think about it in light of eternity, what’s a little derisive laughter and sneering? Millions have been killed for their testimony.

Anyway, one of my favorite ways to start a conversation is to ask, “Can I offer you some good news about how you can know for sure where you are going when you die?” based on  1 John 5:13: “I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life.” (emphasis mine) No religion in the world can offer such certainty. God’s Word can guarantee heaven because salvation has NOTHING to do with our works, but is based entirely on the finished work of Jesus Christ, God incarnate, who died the death we deserve and rose again.

The idea of “knowing for sure” catches some people’s attention. If they are not believers in Jesus, they don’t have their eternal destiny settled in their mind or in reality. They are dangling on a precipice over eternal damnation.

They must hear. They must believe. Then they will know they have everlasting life.

God planned out my family in a very unique way. There are six of us kids, and at some point each year, we are 10 years apart from one of our siblings. There’s Luke (30) and Emily (20). Then me (28) and Noah (18 next month), and Pete (25) and Daniel (15).

Pretty cool, huh?

Another ten year tradition continues this weekend. On 17 July 1999, I graduated from Rift Valley Academy. Tomorrow, Noah will walk across the stage at Centennial Hall and receive his diploma. I am so proud of my little brother (who towers over me).

It’s never easy living an ocean and continent away from home. It’s days like these that are the hardest.

I laugh when I hear people say that Christianity is a crutch, because though that sentiment is meant to be an insult it’s actually the understatement of  . . . well, eternity.

It’s not my crutch. It (or He, Jesus Christ) is my entire life support system. Without him, I’m dead. I’m helpless. I’m hopeless. I’m hellbound. But since I trusted solely in His death in my place, He is my life (Colossians 3:4).

Just a crutch?? Ha!

It’s going on as I write, and I’m rooting for the underdog N.L. (of course). They haven’t won an All-Star Game since ’96. Last year they lost a nail-biter on a play at the plate in the 15th inning. Good grief!

I’m also feeling somewhat vindicated for voting for Shane Victorino in the Final Vote (he of the single and game-tying run in the 3rd).

OK, back to the game  . . . ah, baseball.  Happy sigh.

[she] is teachable.”

That’s something my pastor said in his message yesterday from Titus 1:9.  I admit, I hate criticism and correction (my parents can attest to this). But I believe the Bible when it tells me that instruction and reproof is necessary and a good thing (see 2 Timothy 3:16-17).

He’s still working on me, and I’m still learning to take it with the right attitude. Good thing one of God’s attributes is patience!

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

– F. Lehman

I John 1:19 We love because he first loved us.

Are we to love God? Of course! But the emphasis of Scripture is clearly on his incomprehensible love for us.

Our love for him is flimsy and changes by the moment; his love for every one of us sinners is as steady, infinite, and eternal as he himself is.

a.k.a. 07/08/09, is this year’s sequential date!

Wrap your arms around it and squeeze the life out of this unique day. You can slog through tomorrow, but today, Carpe Diem!

(And I’m just kidding about tomorrow.)

So, I’m studying Spanish. I avoided the learning the language with all my might through high school and college. Not that I really had anything against it, but EVERYONE studies Spanish, and I wanted to be different.

Duh, Katie.

There’s a reason EVERYONE studies Spanish. A lot of people in this country (and in my city) speak it. This fall I will be transferring to a school smack-dab in the heart of the Hispanic section of Milwaukee. Many of my kids won’t have good English proficiency. I’ll work with an interpreter, but my days of avoiding Espanol are officially over.

My friend Erika from grad school agreed to be my L.A. (language assistant); in essence, she’s my Spanish teacher. And I’m learning little by little how to hear and speak basic Spanish. Much of what I’m learning is directly related to classroom activities. I know how to say “Be quiet”, “listen”, “come here”, “walk”, and”stop”, among other things. These are essential phrases, as any educator will tell you.

It feels good to exercise the 2nd language part of my brain. Now if only that pesky Swahili would stop sneaking out.

Inertia is a powerful force. Once I start writing, it’s easy to keep going. When I stop . . . well, it’s extraordinarily easy to stay stopped.

I just didn’t know I’d stopped for so long. Time to get the ball . . . or words . . . rolling again. As it is summer break, my goal is to write daily, or nearly daily, again through the end of August.

Tomorrow: my thoughts on Spanish. Betcha can’t wait, huh?

See ya then!

Tonight I want to go home – real home, with my Savior. I want the tears of a million losses, some small, some way too big, to be wiped from my face by the One with eternally nail scarred hands. I want to see Him, to gaze on His glory. I want to never say goodbye again. I want to never sin again. I want to rest.

I’m tired and my heart hurts.

It’s not a depression. I’m not suicidal. I don’t have a death wish. I simply desire with all my heart and soul to be where I was intended to be, as I was intended to be, with whom I was intended to be.

And I take comfort in knowing that it’s only a matter of time.

Philippians 1:23 ” . . .I desire to be depart and be with Christ, which is better by far . . .”

Author Doris Lessing once said that she was “preoccupied by a feeling that words are too thin for our experience”, and I would tend to agree with her. Language is a wonderful gift. Words are treasures, but they are truly as thin as the pages they are printed on. 

I’ve become aware of this over the past few thousand days, as I have spent most of them far from home and the faces dearest to me. We miss so much when all we have are words. Experiences can never be fully – or even mostly – shared, by words.

Last night, I went to the beach at Lake Michigan with some friends.  It was a warm day in Milwaukee, the first in months, so we got out to enjoy it before the temps plummeted back into the 40s today. We played two-hand touch football and talked and laughed. The wind was wild, whipping sand into my eyes and hair. I could smell the lake and marijuana from somewhere down the beach. The guys grilled up brats and burgers. Someone brought fresh strawberries that were big and sweet and perfect. My brat seemed to be equal parts meat, ketchup, bun, and sandy grit. It tasted like summer. 

I read what I just wrote, and it feels so not what happened. The night was much more vibrant than my words. And even if you never thought about it before, I’m sure you’ll agree with Ms. Lessing and me. Think about your life, your experiences. Words are just too thin, aren’t they?

Still, these little semi-meaningful squiggles on the screen are what we’ve got, so I’ll keep sharing as best I can.

They are building a median in the street by my apartment, which apparently requires an irritatingly regular pounding of the ground. My building is literally shaking every couple of seconds. I’m guessing 3.78 on the Richter Scale.

Good thing I bought Tylenol on my way home from work. My head appears to be trying to match the pounding outside.

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I love Phillies baseball. Today the legendary voice of the Phillies, Harry Kalas, died at the age of 73. Fittingly, he was in the broadcast booth prepping for this afternoon’s Phils-Nats game at the time.

I’m sad. Very sad. I was surprised by the depth of my feelings when I heard the news, and the logical side of me kept telling me it was goofy to miss – so much – someone I never met. But then I realized that Harry wasn’t just the voice of the Phillies, he was the voice of my childhood. Even now, in my late 20s, whenever I hear(d) his smooth comforting voice (my brother Pete described it as “a warm blanket”), I slid back into little girl land.

I lost that today. 

A while ago, I wrote this poem – it pretty much sums my thoughts up.

Summertime Lullaby

On those nights when the heat overwhelmed

And the stickiness of the air made it hard to think,

Dressed in my thin cotton nightgown,

I’d sit at the table and wait for Daddy

To flip the switch on the radio

And turn the dial to my

Summertime lullaby.

But the voices that I heard on my way to sleep

Didn’t sing softly in mesmerizing tones, didn’t sing at all.

They shouted and chatted and groaned and joked

And when they talked, I was there

As the ball thunked – “He struck ‘im out!” – into the catcher’s mitt

Or squirted between the shortstop’s legs

Or was “OUTTA HERE! Home run, Michael Jack Schmidt!”

And in my young mind the dream was always alive,

No matter what the standings or how late it was in the season,

Back when the Phillies and Harry and the crew were my

Summertime lullaby.

Now I’ve moved on and discovered that no one else

Quite gets it right – not the way they did, the way they do.

So I still listen in from half a country away and

Something in the familiar rhythm of the game comforts me

And takes me back to when I was a little girl

Sitting at the table and waiting to hear

The latest version of my

Summertime lullaby.

I have discovered of late that most of my anxieties in life don’t come (first) from a lack of faith but from selfishness. I can’t remember a time that I ever feared that God did not hear a prayer of mine, or that he would not answer. I believe that he is my Father. I believe completely that he does answer the prayer, no matter how small (popsicles – see the previous post) or how big (salvation of a friend). 

Still my heart is often anxious. I’m selfish. I’m afraid that God won’t answer the prayer the way I want him to, with the timing I want, or in the place I want. I know in my heart he will give me what is best for me, but in my myopic selfish moments, I don’t want his best. Too often, I want what I want, even if what I want is not what’s ultimately the best for me, as decreed my an omniscient God.

Yikes. There were a lot of “I”s in that paragraph. That’s why I’m thankful for grace – grace that is greater than all my sin, all my wretched selfishness, all my foolish anxiety. 

Ephesians 1:7-8 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight”