Author: jdunderwood

Odds and Ends

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This is a purposely random post. It includes further thoughts on a recent post; one quote; and one Scripture passage (in three versions) that I found beautiful.

Last weekend, as I was walking just after our first snowfall, I saw this bud lying on the ground. I brought it home, set it in the snow on our patio, and shot a picture. I changed my header picture to this shot because it certainly describes this strange transition of weather we are in. Down to 12 degrees one night, and then five days later it's back up to 50!

Last weekend, as I was walking just after our first snowfall, I saw this bud lying on the ground. I brought it home, set it in the snow on our patio, and shot a picture. I changed my header picture to this shot because it certainly describes this strange transition of weather we are in. Down to 12 degrees one night, and then five days later it’s back up to 50!

1. A couple days after posting the Meanderings on Being piece, I heard a radio interview with James Bryan Smith about his book The Good and Beautiful God. He shared this wonderful illustration from his book: A 19th century Russian Orthodox priest named John of Kronstadt was terribly bothered by the alcoholics he saw passed out in the gutters on his way to the church where he served. Unlike the other priests, he could not simply walk by them. Compelled by love, John would lift up the “hungover, foul-smelling people from the gutter, cradle them in his arms, and say to them, ‘This is beneath your dignity. You were meant to house the fullness of God.'” When I heard that amazing story, my mind jumped to my thoughts about the “God-blank” I wrote about in the Meanderings piece. Hmmm. “You were meant to house the fullness of God.” Oh, I like that.

2. If you live in the U.S. and used Google today, you saw the funky artwork at the top with a quote in it from Corita Kent. Here’s the quote:

“To understand is to stand under

which is to look up

which is a good way to understand.”

I like that, too. When I read the Google blurb on Kent (1918-1986), I learned she was a nun, a teacher, and an artist known for contrasting the idea of consumerism with spiritual concepts drawn from her religious background. I found one article on her in which a friend described her as “a Boston lady who understands friendship and ‘who quietly waits for the gentle inner voice to whisper’ where it will take her next.” An artist whose friend described her first in terms of FRIENDSHIP–and then referred to her as a thoughtful artist: that’s a good model!

3. Here are the verses: Psalms 16:5-7. I’m pasting it in here in the Amplified version (of course), but the reference link will take you to a Bible Gateway page with the ESV, Amp, and New Living translation side by side. (I love that tool!). This verse, too, informs my “meanderings on being.”

5 The Lord is my chosen and assigned portion, my cup; You hold and maintain my lot.

6 The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; yes, I have a good heritage.

7 I will bless the Lord, Who has given me counsel; yes, my heart instructs me in the night seasons.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

Book Suggestion: A Minor by Margaret Philbrick

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A few months ago I went to a book signing for my friend’s debut novel, A Minor: A Novel of Love, Music & Memory. The author, Margaret Philbrick, is a both a writing friend (she’s on the board of the Redbud Writers Guild) and a fellow member at Church of the Resurrection (though she’s been there much, much longer than I).

The book deals with a teenage piano prodigy, Clive, and the mentor who helps him to, as Clive puts it, “set his fingers and his heart on fire.” I was fascinated with the way Philbrick describes music throughout the novel. It becomes a character, and it drives and woos Clive.

Clive’s relationship with his mentor, Clare, also becomes increasingly complex, and he finds himself falling in love with her. But Clare is more than twice his age, and Clive soon notices her memory is slipping. Clare is diagnosed with early-onset dementia, and Philbrick explores the effects of this on human relationships and on a person’s gifts and passions (with a particular focus on the effects of music on memory).

I don’t usually suggest an e-book over print, but this book is an exception BECAUSE Philbrick has done the coolest thing ever. In the e-book, the reader has the option of playing the music Clive is working on; it becomes the background music as the reader experiences the scene!

Here’s another reason to purchase the e-book: November is Alzheimer’s Awareness Month, so Philbrick and her publisher, Köehler Books, are donating 20% of all proceeds from e-book sales to the Alzheimer’s Association AND it’s on sale for only $1.99.

Intrigued? Here’s another link to the book’s Amazon page and here’s a link to the info about the publisher/author donating money during Alzheimer’s Awareness Month.

Discontent disguised as “spiritual” longing

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A few weeks ago “Do not grow weary in well doing” literally jumped into my mind. It was unexpected, both out of place and time. I was NOT engaged in what I thought of as “well doing” at that moment. Nor was I in a particularly “spiritual” frame of mind. In fact, after the verse jumped in—surprising me—I retorted back at, I assumed, the Holy Spirit. “What if I’m just simply ‘weary’ without there being any ‘well doing’ going on at all? That’s rather depressing, don’t you think? It means I am weary simply spinning my wheels, simply being ‘busy’ with suburban mom ‘stuff.’”
I waited for a moment, wondering if another verse would “pop up.” Nothing came, but I was left with a slightly unsettled feeling, as if the conversation were not yet finished.
A week later it continued, this time a bit more forcefully. I was driving (no surprise there–a literal spinning of the wheels), vaguely longing for “otherness”—a more focused ministry that involved our entire family (or at least my husband and I together), a centralized location that would involve much less “in the car” time for me…
This time it wasn’t a verse, just three words, but they cut across my mind, stark, black on a white background.
“You are discontent.”
What? Discontent? That didn’t describe me! I was simply longing for something “better,” right? A more spiritual life, one that stood out as “different.” One that could serve as a good example for others…
Ooh—pride as well as discontent.
Yuck!
Really, Lord? I asked. This—what I so often see as a “small” life—is what You want for me? This here? This now?
Yes.
It was confirmed by a conversation with my mother-in-law. “Let me tell you what I’ve been praying for you lately,” she said. (What a blessing to have not one but two sets of parents who pray for me!) “I’m praying that you will see the goodness and purpose in all the running around, the cooking, the organizing of schedules, the ‘mothering stage’ you are now in, with kids who need you in very different ways than they did when they were younger. I’m praying that you will understand that all this, though it seems small, is BIG. In all this, you are loving your children. This is your good work.”
Good work. Well doing.
Oh, Lord, I prayed, help me to see this—to keep on seeing this.
And help me not to grow weary.
*Here’s a link to a Tim Keller sermon titled “Everyone with a Gift” in which he talks about this very kind of discontent. I’ve listened to it twice now–and I probably need to listen to it again.

“Take, O Take Me As I Am”–followup to “Meanderings on BEING”

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The last post I put up–with my questions and wonderings about individuality and how it relates to my being a creation of God–came from a journal entry I wrote over a year ago. It’s been sitting and sitting, but when I finally was able to post something (sorry for the gap), it came to my mind rather than something written more recently.

I posted it on Friday, and that night I went to a church service and we sang the song “Take, O Take Me As I Am”. “This,” I thought, “relates so beautifully to that blog post.” I have found myself singing/praying it off-and-on ever since, and I want to share it with you. The link above (the title) takes you to Hymnary.org, which has information on the song’s author, Scotsman John Bell, and, when you scroll the bottom of the page, the actual music (so those of you who are musicians can play it), and this link is a Youtube video of a choir singing the song.

Hope you enjoy.

Meanderings on BEING

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When I read the following post to my husband (he and my mother-in-law serve as a sounding board for nearly everything I put on the blog), he responded, “I’ve never ever asked myself the questions you wonder about in this piece, but I’m assuming that if you’ve wondered it, someone else has, so, yes, post it.” I then asked him, “Do you think I’m out on a theological limb in this one–just a bit?” At that he grinned, half-shrugged, and said, “Maybe a little, but not too much.” (I’ve done some adjusting since I first read it to him, and I think I’ve moved closer to the trunk.) SO, if you choose to read on, just know I am NOT claiming this is solid theology but simply, as titled, my mind’s meanderings on my being/personhood/individuality.

It all started with these questions: If I am accepted ONLY in Christ, then does God love ME? For that matter, who am I? If I am called to become more and more like Christ, then WHO am I becoming? How can I still be ME and yet be like Christ? And WHO, exactly, is God loving? Me or Christ in me?

Scripture tells me I have no “good” in me, but it also says I am made in the image of God. I have value as God’s creation in general (like the sparrows) and, to a greater extent, because of that image.

I still wonder, though, do I have value simply in being myself?

But, wait, without God, I do not exist.

Now my head is spinning!

In Him we live and move and have our being. So is there part of God’s being in me? Well, if there is no good in me, then, no, there is no “divine” in me. God is good to His core–no, that’s not strong enough. He IS good, so not only is He never unsure about what is right-wrong/good-evil, He is never tempted to do anything that disagrees with His pure nature. Well, that doesn’t describe me at all. So what does it mean that I am “made in His image”?

I go back to my earlier statement: without God I have no being. I am NOT.

Yet I am. Even in a state of alienation from God—my pre-redeemed state—I have been given being. I am able to think and reason and love and hate and feel pain and joy.

I certainly do not FEEL like a puppet.

Nor did Jesus Christ–very God/very man–treat people as puppets. That, right there, wows me. Each person He encountered was His own creation. He could have chosen NOT to create any of them. In one sense, they were nothing more than clay in His hands.

Yet He treated each person as an individual. He treated each with respect as a human, as an individual. Even when He came down hard on a person or a group of people, it was never belittling but related to the choice they had made to set or follow their own standard/to be their own god–and they were definitely faced with the option of choosing differently. (I think of Nicodemus as a particular example of this.)

We are not only treated as individuals; we ARE so individual—down to our fingerprints, as if God is saying, “I am so big I am able to put a unique image of myself in every single one of you, and I will never have to duplicate or repeat.” (We get a beautiful picture of this in Psalm 139, in which the writer, David, imagines God being present–right there–shaping him in utero uniquely and specifically–no cookie cutter “creation” going on.)

This brings me back to my original question: Who am I? But now I realize that there are two ways to ask that question, one good and one bad. The bad way is when I am wanting an individuality/personhood that is separate from God, from being His, from being linked to Him as the Source and the Sustainer.

And isn’t that the same desire Satan had?

Lucifer wanted to be Lucifer on His own. He didn’t want to maintain his being as an angel OF God. He wanted to be Lucifer, just Lucifer. He didn’t want God to be linked to his being.

God granted Lucifer’s request. I know Lucifer was cast out of heaven, but he wasn’t annihilated. Can anything that God creates ever by truly annihilated?

So Lucifer “won,” in the sense that a rebellious child “wins” autonomy. He was allowed to separate. We see the consequences. Lucifer has lost all good. He has NO good impulses. He never creates, only destroys. He destroyed Eve–and then Adam and all their offspring–with the same temptation.

When I want to be MYSELF (and I am speaking here as one who is following Christ), am I trying to separate from Christ in me? Am I trying to fill the God-blank inside me with ME (pure self-focus). And in so doing, do I, like Satan, ironically, become capable only of destruction, never creation?

Hmm. I am imagining the “God-blank” as a sphere within our souls that has a beautiful, unique shape but which is un-filled. It is merely keeping a portion of my soul from being tainted with the selfishness/self-focus that permeates the rest of me. That empty sphere will either be filled with God or be overtaken by all the rest. In its empty state, it has no power to DO good, only to keep space for Good to enter in. When Christ enters it, His Good has power and begins its work in me, renewing me.

My mind returns to Nicodemus here: is this somehow related to “being born of the Spirit”? When I surrender and say, I am Yours, God. You work Your new creation in me, exactly as YOU want to, then am I born anew to be the ME He originally intended? So, though I am becoming more like Christ, with more of God filling me, yet He is filling me uniquely so that MY becoming like Christ is wholly different than my husband or my children or any other person becoming like Him. Together we are His body, but each cell within it is individual.

He is too great to simply duplicate Himself or even a small portion of Himself. There is TOO much of Him to ever be exhausted.

So perhaps God says to each of us: “You are YOU. Yes, you are from me, yet you are you, and the more you surrender to ME, the more you become the YOU I designed you to be. I take joy in your uniqueness because you display ME uniquely.

“When you are focused on self, you are not YOU—the real YOU is being overcome. The real YOU is completely at peace in your being my intricate masterpiece. You lose self-focus and, in so doing, become more YOU.”

All this is too big for me, but I end in awe rather than confusion because I have returned to my Creator. I place my weary, addled head on His chest; I feel His loving arms encircle me; and my spirit is reminded that He is for me.

I rest my whole being in that.

Sharing a post about Ebola

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Please read this very well-written, challenging, and helpful post by two American doctors living in Kenya who have actually lived through an Ebola crisis. They also have links to an article by Dr. Paul Farmer, who has his own words of wisdom to share on the subject. (Click on his name to read an earlier post I wrote about Farmer.)

Abiding–even in traffic

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This is the slightest bit fuzzy, but I couldn't resist blowing this up a bit to see this beautiful bird's detail. He was hanging out in my yard last week, and I managed to get a couple shots of him.

This is the slightest bit fuzzy, but I couldn’t resist blowing this up a bit to see this beautiful bird’s detail. He was hanging out in my yard last week, and I managed to get a couple shots of him.

It was mid-morning on a Saturday. I’d already taken the boys to their soccer games and returned home. The afternoon had been claimed by the three teens, who needed to shop for school spirit week items. I was their transportation. After that, I would fix dinner, run a younger child to-from a party, and finally collapse.

It was going to be a long day, much of it filled with shopping crowds–always a stressor for my introverted side–and I knew I needed a space of solitude before I plunged into the second part of it. I shut myself in the downstairs bathroom and tried to quiet my mind, to stop the responsibilities and concerns that shout so loud, that so often drown out the Spirit’s whispers.

Into the stillness came a verse, each word in it distinct, like the notes in a simple melody.

I realized it was a melody, was the Scripture I’d set to a tune so I could sing it over my younger daughter each night. “May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of our God, and the fellowship of His Holy Spirit abide with you, now and forever. Amen.”*

That was my prayer, my gift for that time, for the day ahead.

Again I prayed it. Again, focusing on phrases: Grace of Christ, love of God, fellowship of the Holy Spirit. Forever.

And then on the one word: abide.

May grace, love, and fellowship abide in me…

as I abide in God.

Abide.

Help me to abide, I prayed, and an image appeared now in my mind: a life-giving Vine, its clinging branch strong and vibrant.

“Mom, when are we leaving?”

The quiet was broken, and the next, crazy phase of the day began. It was full of traffic, of driving, of crowds, of noise.

Yet Abide ruled the day, inserting itself again and again…

And this led to miracles

Calm in the thrift store. I get jumpy so easily when I have to shop, when I’m in crowds, when I see no end in sight to the shopping. Abide, I heard. And I enjoyed time with the three older girls as we hunted for crazy items for spirit week: tutu skirts, Hawaiian leis, “mom jeans,” ugly sweaters. I even found myself some jeans—ones Em approved of, definitely not “mom jeans”—and didn’t go nuts in the process.

Miracles.

Twelve hours after praying in the bathroom, I was close to sleep. I readied my computer for shutdown, clearing all my screens and then closing my Web pages one at a time. The final page to close: Bible Gateway. The previous day’s verse-of-the-day was still on the screen. On a sudden whim, I refreshed the site to read the verse for the current day, less than one hour before it would change to the next day’s Scripture.

“May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of His Holy Spirit be with you all.”

No way!

But yes!

God had worked miracles as I’d shopped in crowded stores and while my car guzzled gasoline and I was stuck behind its wheel. Why was I surprised that the last one of the day was delivered via technology?!

May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of our God, and the fellowship of His Holy Spirit ABIDE with us, now and forever!

So be it.

*I made the song with the word “abide” in it, but I can’t find a Scripture version that actually includes that word (I have no idea why I began singing it with “abide” included).  BUT the morning I prayed that verse, it came to my mind with the word “abide,” which then led to my envisioning the vine and branches and thinking about Christ’s words about abiding in Him. SO, I’m using the word “abide” in the song version, but not, of course, in Bible Gateway’s verse of the day. That link includes a couple parallel versions.

26.2 miles for a reason

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The back of Dave's Refuge for Women shirt.

The back of Dave’s Refuge for Women shirt.

He did it! On Sunday, October 12, my husband, Dave, ran his sixth marathon (second time in Chicago), this one for women rescued from sex trafficking. His “Run for a Reason” shirt arrived too late (and too small) for him to actually wear it during the run, but his efforts still raised money for a safe house here in the western suburbs. A big thanks to all you who supported Refuge for Women, and, for those of you who still might like to contribute, visit this post I wrote last month to read more about the organization, its partnership with local ministry New Name, and Dave’s reasons for running for this particular purpose.

DSC_0759It was an awesome day–especially for us spectators
who were not slogging out 26.2 miles! We enjoyed funny signs, were inspired by courageous people (like the blind runner–also on crutches–we saw at mile four, far behind the others), and loved, loved, loved seeing runners’ faces light up when we hollered out their names and reminded them that, yes, they really could do it.

All seven of us went down to cheer Dave on (plus Em’s friend Abby), and we DSC_0767were joined by my friend Beth (who just ran a marathon last week herself) and her two kids. They were cheering on husband/dad Geof, who was running his first marathon on
Sunday. Dave and Geof ran the whole thing together (well, they lost each other in the last two miles, but that’s close enough), and
DSC_0781we managed to see them at mile 11 and then again at 17. We tried to see them at 26, but the crowds of spectators were too packed. So we met them just after the finish, watched their drawn, sweat-crusted faces light up when they saw us, and told them we were very, very proud of them.

If you’re in the Chicago area, and you’ve DSC_0783never watched the marathon, DO IT! It’s a great day, filled with chances to cheer on strangers and talk to fellow spectators and walk down streets that are actually empty (Patrick absolutely loved this!). You get to spend the entire day wandering around downtown without a bit of pressure to shop (sorry to all my shopaholic friends).

Other highlights: the band at UIC, the crazy DSC_0787outfits worn by some runners (it wasn’t that hot, but still, the full-length character outfits had to be toasty), getting ice cream, playing in the park, congratulating exhausted finishers who hadn’t yet met up with friends or family, and, most of all, going home all together after a wonderful, wonderful day!

At mile 17, the guys got hugs from the kids.

At mile 17, the guys got hugs from the kids.

 

 

 

 

 

DSC_0837

Patrick giving out high fives.

Patrick giving out high fives.

Finished!

Finished!

Going home on the el--not sure which one looks more tired!

Going home on the el–not sure which one looks more tired!

What not to say to an adopted child: my list

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Finally a good picture of all of us. This is Dave and I with Judy and Kelly (our international student "daughters"--their real mom and dad live in Hong Kong and love them very, very much), Emily, the twins Jake and Maddie, and PJ. Honestly, it's usually the boys who mess up family shots. (Stand still for a picture if I'm not posing as a professional soccer player or bodybuilder? What's up with that?)

Finally a good picture of all of us. This is Dave and I with Judy and Kelly (our international student “daughters”–their real mom and dad live in Hong Kong and love them very, very much), Emily, the twins Jake and Maddie, and PJ (Patrick).

Not long ago, one of our elementary school principals sent a letter to every adoptive family in the school. “We want to meet your child’s and family’s needs,” he wrote. “Can you let us know any ways we are not doing that as well as ways we can do that better?”

I appreciated the question, though nothing came to mind right away. The school is filled with caring teachers and administrators who celebrate adoption and try to integrate multi-cultural literature and projects. They’re not committing any of the obvious insensitivities. But then I thought of a couple of less obvious things, and as I wrote them down, my heart began to pound. These are more important to me than I realized, I thought.

I know every adoptive family and every adopted child have their own particular struggles, so what I wrote to our principal will not apply to all adoptive situations, but I’m sharing because many of you know or will know a family who adopts or fosters, and this may give you an inside look at some of their less obvious struggles.

  1. We’re really open to talking about PJ’s background with him. It’s clear he’s adopted, so we don’t avoid that topic when he brings it up (sometimes we even initiate it). When he asks about his birth parents and brothers, we speak openly and positively about them, and we allow him to talk about them, even when he’s going through a stage (which has happened a couple times) of kind of wishing that he were with his birth dad (who has AIDS; PJ’s mom died of AIDS when he was just an infant). We don’t say anything like, “Hey, we’re your parents. We’re the ones raising you. We’re your REAL mom and dad.” We don’t want teachers and others to say that either. It’s both okay and normal for PJ to wrestle with that, and even though I think most people’s natural instinct is to say, “But look at the family you have now, the mom and dad you have now–they’re your real family,” I don’t think that helps the kid to process the fact that he’s not with the family he was born into, that for one reason or another, his family life (and his entire culture) is different. If someone is not really, really, really close with an adoptive child and his/her family, then I think there is no place for saying something like, “You need to be grateful for the family you have.” Even if that’s a mostly true statement, chances are that the adoptive child is wrestling with a lot more than simply an ungrateful spirit.
  2. We don’t think of what we did—adopting—as anything special or heroic. For us, it was a really clear call from God and it would have been disobedience for us NOT to do it. Patrick is an incredible gift to US, not the other way around. I’ve had people say to me, “What a wonderful thing you did for him,” and, honestly, it makes me angry because I can’t imagine how that would feel if my son ever heard someone say that to me, like I loved him because he was a charity case. The truth is that God showed us PJ was meant to be ours. He planted him in our hearts as our child, and we adopted him simply to make that official. He’s ours; therefore, we love him. I don’t want Patrick to be presented with the idea that he is privileged to be our son. The truth is, we are privileged to be his parents, just as we are privileged to be the parents of all our kids.
  3. I KNOW adoption is a beautiful picture of God bringing us into full “son-ship,” with the same status as a biological child—and that’s absolutely incredible—but the analogy on an individual level can, like in my second note, send the message to the adopted child that he/she was being done a favor. It also emphasizes the differences between biological children in a family and adopted children in a family. I think an adopted child needs to be a certain age or of a certain understanding to be able to see this on a spiritual level without correlating it to his/her own situation.
  4. Anything that emphasizes that difference between the adopted child and biological children should be avoided. Examples would be talking with an adopted child (or talking with someone in the family in front of the adopted child) about how much their siblings look like each other or how one of their siblings looks like mom or dad. (Several years ago when Em was 8, the twins 5, and Patrick 4, we were all together, and I mentioned that someone at church had commented on how much Em and Jake (one of the twins) look alike while the twins look nothing like each other. Oddly enough, if was the other twin, Maddie, who was bothered by this. “Well,” she said, “I look like somebody, too. Patrick and I look just alike. Don’t we, Patrick?” He was really small then and just nodded, but I realized that if Maddie minded being told she didn’t look much like her siblings, then that could really be an issue for PJ.)

*If you are reading this as an adoptive parent or adopted child, and you have an idea to share, I would really love to read your response. Please, please leave a comment below. It will not be posted on the blog; I’ll receive it as an email.

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I’m grateful for Immutability

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Immutability: a big word meaning changeless, not capable of or susceptible to change

I’ve been very grateful for that attribute of God lately. As if it’s not enough that I live in a culture in which change is constant (in fact, change is one of its few constants), in a home with so many personalities (six kids, three of them teenage girls), and in a schedule that is both crazy and fluctuating…

I also am crazy and fluctuating.

I can be happy and joyous one hour and overwhelmed by all the pain and injustice in the world the next. One moment I can be confident in the sovereignty of God; in the next I am doubting and fearful. I remember at times that my security and identity rest in God, but I forget that truth daily (okay, more like every hour–or more) and find myself swinging between insecurity and pride as I compare myself with others.

With all that, God’s immutability is a wonder, a blessing, a miracle.

So when I reached the end of Hebrews today and read these words, I found in them a treasure. I hope they are the same for you.

8 Jesus Christ (the Messiah) is [always] the same, yesterday, today, [yes] and forever (to the ages).*

And because that is true–that Jesus Christ is never swayed because HE IS the great I AM (never the “I was” or the “I will be,” always the “I AM”)–then the benediction that follows can also be constantly true.

20 Now may the God of peace [Who is the Author and the Giver of peace], Who brought again from among the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, by the blood [that sealed, ratified] the everlasting agreement (covenant, testament),

21 Strengthen (complete, perfect) and make you what you ought to be and equip you with everything good that you may carry out His will; [while He Himself] works in you and accomplishes that which is pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ (the Messiah); to Whom be the glory forever and ever (to the ages of the ages). Amen (so be it).**

Amen!

*This link is to the entire chapter of Hebrews 13 in the Amplified version.

**This link is to Hebrews 13:20-21 in a parallel view of the AMP and the New Living Translation.