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To Ashes (Repost)

In observance and celebration of Ash Wednesday and another Lent season.

Note: Today’s blog is an excerpt from my 2011 memoir Craving Grace: A Story of Faith, Failure, and My Search for Sweetness. Used with permission.

Ash Wednesday, though a noted date on the traditional Church calendar, is not formally observed by many evangelical churches. In my West Michigan neck of the woods, for instance, most Christians think this day is for Catholic types only. Most of us grew up without knowing what Ash Wednesday is about. We’ve never practiced it, and we have no problem finding it odd and a little creepy.

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Recently Published by Lisa

Links For Your Perusing Pleasure

Here’s a quick compilation of the articles I’ve had published recently. They’re all online, which hopefully keeps things handy for you.

If you’re a blogger who’s looking for me to guest post or an editor who’s looking to hire me for your publication, I’d love it if you’d email me and say so. If you’re a reader looking for more, you can subscribe to my blog and consider immediately picking up your copy of my latest book, Craving Grace.

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Better, Stronger, Thinner, More?

Keeping Space for Grace in the New Year

NOTE: Today’s post is a preview of a New Year’s piece I wrote for the January 2012 online edition of Praise and Coffee magazine. Find out more about Praise and Coffee over at their site, or head on over to Issuu to view the full article.

It’s a fickle thing that can happen, this shift from Christmas into a sparkling New Year. There are only six days between O Holy Night and Auld Lang Syne, yet it could be said that we who sing the songs are vastly changed from one melody to the other.

…by the time our Christmas trees are de-trimmed and hauled out to curbs, we might already be forgetting we are people with a great need who live under great grace. Without even thinking to consider what’s happening, we stow the Gift away somewhere with our ornament boxes, because the calendar is turning and now it’s time for resolutions.

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Christmas Delivery

On expecting.

It is called the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise.

Luke’s gospel begins with the story of Christmas, told by way of two pregnancies and of John the Baptist’s birth first. Much is happening—all the noise of eternal change and prophesy-fulfillment and joy—but in the middle of it there is also the song, which reads like a stop. A moment of quiet and, appropriately, privacy.

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Pennies Falling

Generosity is the word.

Just yesterday, in a conversation about faith and its place in a person’s life, a friend of mine shared that two types of near-daily observations, more than any other, stir her faith and cause her to marvel: the beauty of creation and the generosity of strangers.

How incredible, she noted, that such life-altering, majestic things are common!

Then this morning, during my standard ten minutes of perusing major news front pages, a headline caught my eye about Kmart and anonymous donors and layaway. When I clicked over to the story and read it, I decided you should have the chance to see it too, if you haven’t already. (A link follows here.)

I know, I know: Christmas isn’t about toys, and general revelation isn’t the same as specific. But we can all agree, I think, that when generosity is the word, something remarkable happens in this creation. When pennies are falling among us, it’s because grace is falling among us too. And when grace is falling, people start looking around, searching for the source of it.

May we find Him again and again, in all our tiny interactions and shopping trips this Christmas.

Referenced Article: Anonymous Donors Pay Off Kmart Layaway Accounts

Decoding Christmas

Here’s my favorite family tradition. What’s yours?

My dad picks one five-minute span of every Christmas season for gift-guessing. He saves it for the moment when most or all the other family gift-givers are present, simply because he knows how much it infuriates us.

Strolling up to the tree, he gives a lift and a few quick shakes to each present that’s for him. Then one by one, he calmly and nonchalantly names exactly what’s inside. Every year, no matter how strange or off-the-wall our gifts have tried to be, after his brief inspection it’s always clear: he knows what’s coming already.

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The Weight (and Wait) of Joy

Is Joy Heavy or Light?

It is snowy out but not icy, darkening but not yet dark, and still in a 45mph zone the car in front of me is holding steady at 15.

I have nothing to rush home to tonight, just some tea in a mug and some pages to turn in a book, yet as I accelerate and swoop ahead of this other driver I am starting to get a little huffy.

For several weeks now I have been waiting for something to happen. The specifics aren’t helpful to share; the point is that with all of my breath I have been waiting. Wishing. Wanting. Hoping. Praying that it would happen. And what I have been telling myself is that if this something were to come true it might possibly change my whole life for the better. The day would open up like a gift, and joy would arrive—enough to float on for a while.

So with every day that there’s no new news, I stomp a little harder on the gas pedal.

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Bump Ahead

Or, more aptly titled, Bump In Progress.

In a classic example of professional life bowing to personal, the excuse for my recent blog absence is that rumors are true: The first trimester of a pregnancy can be brutal. I will not get into the gory details or attempt to explain morning sickness to anyone who hasn’t been there. The point is: Hooray, there’s a baby on the way!

Now that I’m back to feeling well, I’ll thank you for your patience if you’ve been waiting on a new post here. Be on the lookout later this week—I’ve got a few Christmas-y things up my sleeve and in my drafts folder. See you again soon!

 

A Fix for All This

“Either worrying drives out prayer, or prayer drives out worrying.” -D.A. Carson*

For me, now, worry is my husband and Afghanistan. When I worry (more likely than not, some days), it is always about Nathan and the war.

I worry about the upcoming deployment, about combat zones and mortars and grenades, about ambushes and IED’s. I worry about snipers. I worry about torturers. I worry about suicide bombers. If it can be worried about, I am worrying. This is not uncommon for military spouses and family members, but I have to accept that from a biblical perspective it’s not OK.

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Small Town Girl, Big City Sorrow

On ten years, hopefulness, and looking back.

I had skipped my 9:25 a.m. Tuesday class—I must’ve, because I always had a 9:25 class on Tuesdays while in college, but on that Tuesday morning around 10 a.m. I was having a chat with my roommate while getting ready in the dorm. Applying makeup and styling hair, probably.

Some girl from down the hall, I can’t remember who, burst into our room. Almost immediately she implied offense, at hearing we didn’t know what was going on in New York.

“Planes hit the World Trade Center!” she said. There was emotion in her voice, but I remember thinking it seemed contrived in a demanding sort of way.

I thought something like, This is Indiana, sweetheart.

I thought, Don’t pretend New York has something to do with you, just so you can be the one to spread big news. I purposely didn’t turn on the TV until the girl left and continued on down the hall.

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