“Let the words of Christ, in all their richness,

live in your hearts and make you wise…”

Colossians 3:16

(source)

The Meaning of His Name:

Words are powerful.

Words build up and words tear down.  Words lure open hearts and shut down relationships.  Words wound and words heal. Words alter everything.

But only Logos has the power to actually change us deep inside.

Jesus is Logos, a continuous stream of words and wisdom and hope and life pouring out of God’s heart. This logos of God is able to see through the façade of our inglorious attempts at being good, straight to our hearts.

He speaks and we are never the same.

Every day we have a chance to hear God.  He speaks directly through His Word— pages and pages of stories and shadows and truths and wisdom fraught with the power of His Voice. And He speaks indirectly as well— through the words of men and women of faith who have captured His words in their own lives and long to tell us how.

And every day we face a choice. Do we listen, or do we turn a deaf ear on all those streaming words? Do we trot on about our business, or do we pause and consider?

I, being deaf, know a little about not listening. In fact, even as I write these words, that little computer which keeps me connected to the world of the hearing is broken, rendering me completely and totally unable to hear even the slightest sound.

While I wait for a new cochlear to bring words once again through my ears, I have some choices to make. Will I still try to listen? Straining to see words formed on lips moving fast? Searching faces for clues? Connecting the bit of information I can come up with to decipher what is being said?

Or will I just shut it all out, wrap myself in my world gone silent, and go about my business… alone?

It’s not an easy choice, you know. To hear without ears is hard work. Exhausting. Draining. Embarrassing at times. Awkward.

The words are there, but is the effort to catch them worth it?

And, my dear listening sisters, is it worth it for you to strain and try and fail sometimes and then work again to hear the Voice of the One who calls Himself your Logos?

Or are you willing to give up and go about your days blundering through, all deaf to Him who calls you as His own, unable and unwilling to put out the effort to really hear?

He who has ears to hear, let him hear

~Jesus

From my heart,

Diane

John 1:1-4

Genesis 1:1-5

Hebrews 4:12

John 5:24-26

I Timothy 3:16

Psalm 119

James 1:22-25

My seven-year-old daughter Alli has a hard time staying focused. She’ll head up to her room after breakfast intent on completing her get-ready-for-school routine.  Before she goes upstairs, we run down the list of what she needs to accomplish: brush teeth, make bed, shower, get dressed, fix hair, read Bible. Most mornings she wants to be first in line at the bus stop, but other mornings she allows herself to get distracted.  It’s not that she wants to be late.  There are just too many other things, like doodling on a piece of notebook paper or spinning in circles in her bedroom, that are more appealing. She often loses sight of the goal – to catch the bus so she can go to school.

Every five minutes, I holler up the stairs, “Alli, how’s it going? The bus will be coming in ten minutes.  Have you finished your first task?   The bus is coming in nine minutes.  How’s it going?” We play this game every school morning and even with my help, she often has to run to catch the bus.

I have perfected the art of Professional Nagger, otherwise known as Mom, and thought I’d put these skills to use by checking in with you as well.  How is your training going?  The race is coming in forty-seven days.  Are you staying focused on consistent training or are the distractions calling you?

I put together a checklist of things to accomplish.

• Register for the race. If you still need to do this, go to http://www.runwithpaula.com/helvetia-half, click on the blue box with the white star that says, “Register Now” and follow the prompts.  Interest in this event is growing exponentially and there is talk that it might start selling out.  Wouldn’t you be disappointed if you trained for twelve weeks for an event but didn’t get a spot in the race?
• Let the Not Your Own team know who you are. Go to http://www.hespeaksinthesilence.com/category/not-your-own/ and scroll down past the blue box on the right hand side.  Under the countdown clock is a “Join Us” heading.  Click on the link, follow the prompts, and let us know we have a new team member.
• Check out the Not Your Own Facebook page. One of the biggest questions we’ve been getting is, “How do I get connected to other women who are training for this event?”  Find them at the Not Your Own Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_113751875371574&ap=1.  Join the group and use the page to find training partners, glean tidbits of helpful info, and encourage us with your progress.
• Gear up. By now you should have purchased a good pair of running or walking shoes.  If you haven’t done this, my guess is that you have sore feet, sore knees, and sore everything.  I know it’s hard to shell out $100 for a pair of good shoes, but not purchasing proper gear makes you susceptible to injury and makes exercising more uncomfortable.  It is worth the investment to get proper running shoes, a supportive bra (sorry boys), and cute exercise clothes that wick away sweat.  You can find inexpensive workout gear at Target or check out my favorite place to buy workout clothes, www.athleta.com.  The price point is higher, but the quality is excellent and this store features a wide range of sizes including petites, tall, and plus sizes.
• Stick to your training plan. You should be starting to ramp up the miles on the weekend now.  I know it’s tough, but you can do it.  Stick to your training plan and don’t skimp on the long runs.  Your body needs the slow ramp up of adjusting to the longer distances so it’s not so shocking on race day.
• Plan your course before you exercise. I plot all my training runs on www.mapmyrun.com.  It’s a resource I can’t live without.  When I chart a weekend long run, I usually choose loops instead of out-and-back routes.  Running a loop forces me to run to the farthest point before heading back home and eliminates the mental argument of “I’m so tired, maybe I could just cut a mile or two off by turning around sooner than I planned.” Even when I run shorter distances, I always decide ahead of time how far or how many minutes I’m planning to run, and I don’t allow myself to swerve from that goal.
• Celebrate your victories. A friend of mine runs on a treadmill next to a poster that says, “It doesn’t matter how fast you’re going.  You’re still lapping everyone on the couch.” Don’t forget to celebrate each time you get out for a run or walk.  Celebrate the days you run fast and furious.  Celebrate the days you fight for each step.  Celebrate because you are really doing this.  WHOO HOO!!!! More →

“And the angel of the Lord…

came…

and sat upon it.”

Matthew 28:2

(source)

The stone stood in silent sentinel across the cave. On the other side, or so she thought, lay Jesus.  Her Lord.  And wrapped up with Him lay all her shattered hopes and dreams. Dead.

She’d come to say good-bye. Farewell to faith.

She’d come to grieve. To let go of the hope that had held her in such wild expectation every time He talked.

It was over now.

Best she be done with it and cope with reality… deal with drudgery… face her future…

But that stone blocked her way.

Falling to the ground in a heap of defeated despair, pulling her knees tight against her chest, she rocked back and forth, back and forth as her sobs filled the early morning air.

Why… Was… Life… So… Hard…?

Waves of grief shook her. Years of hurt overwhelmed her reason, spilling out upon the unyielding realities of that stone. There was nothing to do but die.

Somewhere in the peripheral of her mind she sensed movement, but her sorrow was too great to stop and listen. But there.

A sound.

A scrape.

Was that a cough?

Her sobs slowed, again a noise.

Fear froze her.  Oh no, what now?

Slowly, hesitantly, as if she could wait away the next disaster, she looked up.

An angel sitting on the stone, that… gargantuan… immovable… uncontrollable mountain of impossibilities.

And the stone was moved.

Just like that.

Is a stone blocking your way to life?  To peace?  To joy?  Have you worn yourself out trying to push it away?  Exhausted your soul trying everything to change your circumstances?  Are you sweaty and angry and defeated and discouraged?  Have you lost hope?

Sit still awhile. Sit at the tomb of your tomorrows and let yourself grieve what might have been.  Should have been.  Cry it all out.

And when you’re done, listen… shhh… quiet… be still…

In the ashes of your grief, in the failure of your fantasies of how life ought to be, sits Jesus. In dazzling white He sits atop that stone… immune to impossibilities… with a different idea of the ideal.

And while you’re there, let Him fill you with His hope and His dreams.  Let Him store those tears away, pack up your past, relinquish your regrets, and give you… a new start, a new life… a renewed hope…

After all, He rolled away that stone.

From my heart,

Diane

Jesus said to the people,

“I am the light of the world.

If you follow Me, you won’t be stumbling through the darkness,

Because you will have the light that leads to light.”

John 8:12

NLT

The Meaning of His Name:

God sits on a throne of light. He revealed Himself to Moses in as a burning bush, lighting up the desert with His presence. He wrapped Himself in a pillar of light to lead His people out of the darkness of slavery.  He flashed a streak of blinding light to get Paul’s attention.

God basks in light.

When I was a little girl growing up in the tiny village of Oberhurchstadt, Germany, we often had tremendous thunder and lightening storms. In fact, a tall metal spire to draw the lightening away from the roof— just in case, topped every house in our village. One night, especially thunderous hail pounding against our tile roof had me cowering as close to my Dad as I could get. He wrapped his arm around me and spoke reassuringly of how safe we really were.

Boom! Oh, that’s just the lightening rod on the roof, taking the brunt of the storm.

Crash! Probably just a few roof tiles, nothing to worry about.

Bang! Mmh, we must have a shutter loose somewhere, I’ll fix it in the morning.

But when the lights went out, cloaking our cozy home in sinister darkness, my terror reached a turning point. Words from my father meant nothing. I was just too afraid to hear him.

And so my loving dad did what he’d always done when fear overwhelmed me.

He fixed it.

Handing this histrionic prone girl to my less-than-fully sympathetic mother (a woman who honestly is not afraid of anything), he simply got up and found a flashlight. Then he lit the beautiful Tyrolean carved candles on the coffee table, creating an aura of safety for his family.

He didn’t scold. He wouldn’t allow my big brother to laugh (though I definitely recall a snicker from his corner). He just brought me some beautiful light to ease my fear.

God knows how terrifying the darkness is.

In the dark we hurt ourselves, we get lost and feel intensely alone.

Darkness is dangerous. And frightening.

Knowing this, Jesus gave Himself a new name: Light of the World. By His name He banished the darkness, flooded our lives with light, and opened the world of His Kingdom.

Are you confused about what to do?  How to think? Where to go?

Are you tired of bumping into people, leaving bruised bodies behind?

Have you succumbed to insecurity?

Let Him shine Himself into your darkness by inviting Him to be who He is to you.

He is… the Light of the World.

From my heart,

Diane

John 8:12

John 9:5

John 1:1-5

Isaiah 9:2

Isaiah 60:2

Matthew 17:1-2

I John 1:5-7

Psalm 139:11-12

Micah 7:7-8

I Timothy 6:13-16

Psalm 104:1-2

Today’s post is a treat for all of us who are less-than-athletic. You know who I mean. We are the ones who love the rain because it means we get to forego our walk/run/whatever we were going to do. After all, it’s a bit fanatical to get wet, on top of out-of-breath and sweaty! Really.

(Phil and me)

MY STORY:

I started running three years ago after a 20-year hiatus. And to tell the truth, I never ran a whole lot even way back when. My first bumbling attempt at running was just weeks before my wedding in 1978. Phil persuaded me that even I could run. So I pulled back my waist length hair, pulled on my shorts, donned my Keds, and set out.

I didn’t get very far.

But still, I’d done it, and my incredibly compelling fiancé was impressed.

Eventually I choked out the fist full of cash necessary to buy real running shoes and clocked in some regular two and three milers. I never really liked it, but since I loved to eat even more than I hated sweating and huffing, I kept at it a few days a week.

Then my first baby came (that would be John Mark, for all you Solid Rockers), and with him came a funny flap on my stomach and extra pounds on the scale. And, since I loved eating as much or more than ever, that meant laps around suburbia. When we moved to Portland for Phil to go to grad school at Multnomah, a friend and I jogged ‘round and ‘round the one mile square block that encompassed the school as we tried to memorize Proverbs 31.

More babies came in the ensuing years. First Rebekah, then little Elizabeth, and eventually Matthew. Somewhere in there I gave up on running with the exception of occasional bursts of “starting again”. It was just too hard to figure out when and where with four little ones at home and more work than I could sanely handle.

The kids grew up and I grew out… out of those tiny sizes I once wore, out of my idea of what I thought my body ought to look like.

I walked a lot during those years. I love to walk. But by walk, I mean stroll. There’s just something that seems to me sort of sacrilegious about walking fast. And when I did have a walking partner who challenged me to a pace that induced a little sweating, I actually gained weight! Those were the years when my two oldest kids worked at Noah’s Bagels and at the end of each day they brought home a big bag of extras. Just the thing after a long morning walk!

But as the years went by and the pounds crept on, and walking the dog didn’t seem to make a dent, I kind of woke up one day and thought, “Maybe I should try jogging.” And I thought about it… and didn’t. More →

“I forgave you…should you not also you have mercy?”

Matthew 18:32,22

(me at age 5 – nursery school graduation)

Once upon a time there was a girl. All her friends and family thought she was a very good girl.

She did her chores, obeyed her teachers, was nice to her friends, and kept out of trouble.

She followed The Rules.

The Rules were a set of laws designed to keep everybody happy. They were good rules, like Never raise your voice in anger and Don’t talk too much and Always say please and thank-you.

The girl lived her life every day being ever so careful to learn and follow these rules. She kept quiet instead of chattering her thoughts so she wouldn’t say the wrong thing. She sat in the front row at school so that she wouldn’t miss anything the teacher said. She even did all her homework when she’d rather have been doing anything but homework.

And everyone loved this very good girl.

But sometimes in the night when everyone was sleeping, this good girl had nightmares about all the things nobody knew about. Like the black and white t.v. her parents had proudly displayed in the living room, her mind filled with pictures of deeds done wrong. Shameful things. Things that broke The Rules.

No one knew about these great misdeeds. The girl had learned to pretend very, very well. She knew how to lie and to steal and to cheat on her homework.

No one knew about the flashlight she hid so that she could burrow under the covers to finish her Nancy Drew book. Or about the awful words that often bubbled right up to her tongue, flooding her mind with dirty debris.

Nobody knew how much she hated Mrs. Moran, her math teacher who’d humiliated her in front of everybody, and Mary Cunningham, who’d made fun of her at lunchtime, and that horrible boy down the hall who’d called her a gorilla because she was so very awfully hairy.

Nobody knew.

And as the girl grew, her misdeeds grew with her.

Darker things. Meaner thoughts. Uglier words.

And because the Rules at home with her family were different than the Rules at school with her friends, it got harder and harder to obey all the Rules.

But she tried, she really did.

She turned over new leaves, she threw Bad Things away, and she promised herself never ever to lie again.

But it didn’t work. And the nightmares got worse.

And the good little girl knew that she was very, very bad.

But everybody she knew was bad just like her. Her friends stole, her brother partied, her mom spewed the bad words, and even her dad got mad sometimes.

The good girl gone bad was surrounded by bad.

Then one day she heard a story about a Man who could make bad people good. She didn’t believe it at first. After all, none of those other things had worked. The bad seemed stuck.

No matter how she tried, all that darkness deep inside wouldn’t stay down. Like the dirty goldfish pond at Grandpa’s farm, there was just too much mud for the water to ever clear. She was doomed to be bad.

But she kept coming back to the Man, tiptoeing around the edges of the story, trying to get a glimpse of Him. Wondering why He’d want anything to do with a girl like her.

A bad girl.

Days passed, weeks, months, until the day came when the Man-who-could-make-people-good invited the good-girl-gone-bad to come close. And when she did, He held out His hands to show her something really, really awful while He told her something really, really beautiful.

The something awful was the scars. Ugly, oozing holes right through his hands.

Blood.

Pain.

Badness.

Everything in the girl wanted to turn away from those repulsive scars, yet something held her there, transfixed by this Good Man holding bad in His hands.

That’s when He told her the something beautiful.

The scars, He said, were for you. All the bad you have ever done, all the bad you will ever do, all the bad you have become, is covered by those scars. Not hidden, not ignored, not pretended away, but covered by a love that changes everything. And what’s more, I will use these scared hands of mine to make you new. To change the way you are. To throw the past away. To hold you close so that you never have to hide again.

To make you good.

And He did.

And she became someone new and the goodness grew and spread and the nightmares stopped and everyone loved her and she was very, very happy.

Until one day many, years later when someone she loved did something very, very mean to hurt the girl.

Something not right.

Something bad.

And the blackness she’d thought gone surged up again. And she got mad.

Over and over she went to the Man-who-could-make-someone-good and begged Him to make the mean one stop being bad to her.

And all He did was nothing.

Nothing at all.

The mean one kept being mean and the good girl kept getting mad and no one was happy.

Then one day she read in the Man’s book of stories about a king in a kingdom who caught one of his favored ones doing bad. A man he’d trusted. A man he’d been good to. And instead of being mad at the man, the king felt compassion for him and released him and forgave him the bad.

And the forgiven man was happy. Very happy.

But then someone did something bad to the man-set-free and he got mad. So he grabbed the mean man by the throat and started to choke him and threaten him and demand that he be put in prison like he deserved.

And the story made the girl sad, for she knew she was like the set-free-man wanting to choke the badness out of the one who’d been mean to her. Wanting to strike back. Demanding the mean one away.

And she turned to see the king staring right into her eyes- right into the heart of the girl-who’d-been-made-good. And she saw tears flowing down His heart.

And I am that girl.

The girl-with-the-bad-heart-made-good demanding the mean one away.

I see His tears. I know His mercy for a bad one and I know that now it’s my turn.

God help me.

From my heart,

Diane

PS: Next week read more about what it means to forgive and how…

“I will make you my wife forever,

showing you righteousness and justice,

unfailing love and compassion.

I will be faithful to you and make you mine,

And you will finally know Me as LORD.”

Hosea 2:19,20

NLT

The Meaning of the Name:

All through out Scripture, God uses the marriage metaphor to give us the sense of the relationship He wants with each of us.

In the book of Ruth, Boaz is a captivating picture of Jesus the Redeemer, coming to rescue us and sweep us away with His love.

In the Song of Solomon, we are invited to peer into the private moments of a couple in love.  The poetry poured onto those pages cannot help but point us to a relationship with God that is far more intimate than anything we have ever before experienced.

Then Hosea is ordered by God to marry an unfaithful, unworthy woman—just so He can demonstrate in tangible story how much He longs for us regardless of our filthy history.

In the book of Ephesians, Paul uses the same symbolism to capture God’s heart for the Church.  He speaks of nourishing and cherishing us, of washing us, of presenting us as lovely brides to the One who waits to draw us close.

Do you know Him in that way?  Can you shed your stiff image of a God waiting to pounce on you at the slightest provocation?  Do you understand how deep His love runs for you?  That He is crazy for you?

He is the only One who is always faithful.  He is the only One who will never leave you or disappoint you.

He is really the only One who loves you just the way you are.

After all, He is… your Husband.

Ephesian 5:25-27

Isaiah 54:5-8

Hosea

Isaiah 62:4,5