Christ as her center

I’m addicted to reading blogs.

Craft blogs.

Pastoral blogs.

Design blogs.

Adoption blogs.

Blogs of friends.

Blogs of strangers.

Blogs of “I wish we were friends.”

I like my blogs almost as much as my Craigslist.

There’s probably a self-help group for both and a three-step program.

In which case, I should enroll.

Today I was reading one of my bloggy blogs, and saw this quote about Ruth Graham, daughter of legendary evangelist Billy Graham. Admittedly don’t know a thing more about Ruth, but these words about her life were so beautiful I couldn’t help but hope that someday when I’m old and gray, or when my body is in the ground and soul resting with our Savior in eternity, that I could be described in such a God-honoring way.

She taught all of His children to love the Lord God and His son Jesus Christ…she was the lovely, beautiful, wise woman she was because early in her life she chose Christ as her center, her home, her purpose, her example, her vision.

If that isn’t a kick in the rear, if that doesn’t make you want to ante-up, if that doesn’t make you want to read Proverbs 31 again, if that doesn’t make you want to clarify your goals and re-fix your eyes on Christ,  then check your spiritual pulse, friends.

Oh Christ, be the center of our lives. Be the place we fix our eyes. Be the center of our lives.

-Charlie Hall

love, allison

engineers our goings

If you haven’t read any of Oswald Chamber’s books, I want to encourage you to run, not walk, to your computer and order away. He’s got some major insight into the Bible.

I ran across this quote the other day, and wanted to share it with you:

Where we are placed is then a matter of indifference to us, because God sovereignly engineers our goings.

“None of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus…” Acts 20:24

That is how to keep going until we are gone from this life.

I love that line: “God sovereignly engineers our goings.”

Finish your race with joy.

I’m rooting for you.

love, allison

not for your friends

I’m just going to say this (and feel free to kindly disagree):

EvangeCubes are best left for backyard Bible clubs and mission trips.

Not for your friends.

Your neighbors.

Strangers.

The American public.

Yes, the pictures are great for kids (backyard Bible club).

And perfect to help bridge a language barrier or depict the Gospel where the Bible does not exist (mission trip).

But oh, so awkward when talking to American adults.

Please, people.

Don’t reduce the God of the Bible and your relationship with our Savior, Jesus to a toy that looks like a Rubik’s Cube.

Don’t insult the intelligence of the populus by memorizing kitschy Gospel phrases for each flip of the blocks.

Don’t tell me that you have to use a tricky contraption to explain your faith and the God who has rescued you.

Because people will look at you like you’re selling something.

Avoid you.

Discount your story.

They will wonder why you can’t talk to them naturally and normally.

Or dismiss you altogether. If you can’t sum your “religion” and share Scriptures in a few of your own sentences, why should they listen?

There’s my rant.

I’d like the Holy Spirit to guide me into conversations share my faith in a non-forced, non-memorized way. I’d love for Him to lead me to opportunities to set an example in words and actions that glorify God.

So, no offense to the makers or the fan club if i skip over EvangeCubes in my everyday life.

It just feels like a rehearsed gimmick.

I know, I know. Who am I to say what’s right and wrong in the realm of evangelism?

I’m no one.

But I understand the bottom line:

We must share.

We must fearlessly communicate who God is and what He’s done in our lives.

Who cares how we do it, as long as it’s Spirit-led.

You can use your EvangeCube, friends.

I won’t judge you.

Now I’m going to go get off my spiritual high horse.

And offer myself some sort of pride check.

love, allison

deepest awareness

When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and I get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good and I feel guilty about not feeling guilty, I am trusting and suspicious, I am honest and I still play games — to live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story the light side and the dark, my deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to deserve or earn it.                                                                                                                                           Brennan Manning

love, allison

critical question

Makes you think:

The critical question for our generation—and for every generation— is this: If you could have heaven, with no sickness, and with all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever saw, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with  heaven, if Christ were not there?

God is the Gospel: Meditations on God’s Love as the Gift of Himself

Has my generation begun to view heaven as a cruise ship with everyone we care about, calm waters and gorgeous weather, an endless buffet of food, and every tropical adventure ever imagined? No fighting. No storms. No hurt. No poverty. No hunger. No sickness. Only happiness. Satisfaction. A flawless eternal dream.

No Christ necessary.

Have we become so disillusioned that we could be joyful about or satisfied with experiencing the promises of heaven without the Man whose death granted us life there?

That’s a scary, scary thought.

Thanks, John Piper for the reality check.

love, allison

camp conversations, take two.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent a week with junior girls at camp. We had more fun and ate more candy in our Oaks 4 cabin than should have been allowed. Even with walking hills and playing rec games in the heat all day, there was never a moment when I was hungry. There was also never a dull moment.

I shared with you some of the funny things that were said in my cabin throughout our week, so I thought it appropriate to share some of the insightful, spiritual moments we had in our small group as well. But, before I give you a list, let me brag on these girls. They were top notch. They knew their Bibles. They were sharp. That excited me. I’d gone to camp as a last-minute addition when another chaperone dropped out and was seriously blessed and left challenged by their statements and questions. During our small group or one-on-one times I had to dig deep to answer some of their questions and humbly admit that sometimes I just didn’t know. I was not expecting that! So much for an easy, peasy week addressing things like “does God always love me?” or “why should I have a regular quiet time?” Nope, these girls were on top of their game. I loved it!

Here’s a small sampling of some of the spiritual camp conversations from my girls:

1. I really struggle with Limited Atonement. Not because it contradicts Scripture, but because I have a hard time dealing with it when I think about my family and friends.

2. I know I’m not living the way Christ commands me to, but I’m not ready to do it. I could tell you all that I’m going to change right now, but it’s not the truth. At least I’m not afraid to be honest with myself and God. Some of you are still lying to yourselves.

3. I want you all to ask me the tough questions. I want you to ask me if I’ve spent time reading the Bible. I want you to ask me how my prayer life is going. I want you to ask me if I’ve had a good attitude with my parents and if I’m doing my best in school. I want you to ask me if I’m sharing Christ with my friends. I’m ready for accountability.

4. Camp is always some “mountain top” experience, but what about in two weeks? Or a month. Or a year. Are we going to be having these same conversations at camp next summer? What’s going to change when we go home and back to school? And what does that look like in my life?

5. I used to cut myself. I hate my parents. My mom and I went to counseling. I’ve had bad relationships with ex-boyfriends. But I think God is changing my heart and I’m scared.

6. I’d really like to know the best way to confront a friend about sin. I’m afraid to do it alone but I don’t understand how to talk to someone else without it seeming like gossip. What does God think I should do?

7. How can I know if I’m called to ministry?

8. I don’t understand how to desire God. I mean, I want to want God, but I don’t. What am I doing wrong?

9. My boyfriend and I broke up today because we don’t think we should give time to a relationship when we’re not giving time to God.

10. How can I explain God and what He’s done in my life to my friends without sounding totally crazy? Like I’m in some cult that believes in some magical invisible person that controls my life.

See? These girls were wrestling with some serious questions and Biblical truths. It was beautiful to watch them talk things through, pray for one another, set up accountability, and search Scripture for answers they weren’t sure about. It was such a privilege to facilitate those things and watch them discover things about themselves and Christ.

The girls and I are planning a reunion of sorts in the upcoming weeks. Maybe Mellow Mushroom?! I’m excited to hear about the life change that has happened since camp and to share a few more laughs. I’d love if you’d be praying for them and the way God is shaping their hearts and for me too, as I encourage them and remain challenged to seek wisdom through God’s Word as I share with them.

love, allison

the kid that jumps

I’ve been learning so much this summer about faith. I know that sounds basic and simple. Elementary, if you will. But the kind of faith that has been brewing inside of me is so much more than the bogus illustration I heard as a pre-teen: “faith is like believing that when you sit down in a chair it won’t break.”

Um. That’s not the kind of faith I’ve been impressed and convicted to show. I’ve probably sat in thousands of chairs and not one has made me think about its abilities before I bent my knees and plopped down. The kind of faith that has recently resonated in my heart is the faith that makes God look good. The kind of faith that says “God is the only way this won’t fail.” The kind of faith that is not me-centered, doesn’t prove anything about my skills, my trust, my gusto, or my bravery.

I’ve been praying for that kind of faith. Faith to trust. Faith to believe… and act. So many times it’s been easy for me to claim faith but leave the second part of the equation out. Action. I can say I have faith all day long, but if I don’t do anything about it, is it really faith? God doesn’t want that from me. He wants me to pull the trigger. Go out on a limb. Jump. Because when I do those things, it makes Him look awesome. Notice I didn’t say it makes me look awesome. It makes Him look like the hero. That’s exactly the point.

I love this!

Recently I was reading a little John Piper, and came across this illustration that talks about the exact kind of God-glorifying faith He has been stirring in my heart.

Your daddy is standing in a swimming pool out a little bit from the edge. You are, let’s say, three years old and standing on the edge of the pool. Daddy holds out his arms to you and says, “Jump, I’ll catch you. I promise.” Now, how do you make your daddy look good at that moment? Answer: trust him and jump. Have faith in him and jump. That makes him look strong and wise and loving. But if you won’t jump, if you shake your head and run away from the edge, you make your daddy look bad. It looks like you are saying, “he can’t catch me” or “he won’t catch me” or “it’s not a good idea to do what he tells me to do.” And all three of those make your dad look bad.

But you don’t want to make God look bad. So you trust him. Then you make him look good–which he really is. And that is what we mean when we say, “Faith glorifies God” or “Faith gives God glory.” It makes him look as good as he really is. So trusting God is really important.

And the harder it seems for him to fulfill his promise, the better he looks when you trust him. Suppose that you are at the deep end of a pool by the diving board. You are four years old and can’t swim, and your daddy is at the other end of the pool. Suddenly a big, mean dog crawls under the fence and shows his teeth and growls at you and starts coming toward you to bite you. You crawl up on the diving board and walk toward the end to get away from him. The dog puts his front paws up on the diving board. Just then, your daddy sees what’s happening and calls out, “Johnny, jump in the water. I’ll get you.”

Now, you have never jumped from one meter high and you can’t swim and your daddy is not underneath you and this water is way over your head. How do you make your daddy look good in that moment? You jump. And almost as soon as you hit the water, you feel his hands under your arms and he treads water holding you safely while someone chases the dog away. Then he takes you to the side of the pool.

We give glory to God when we trust him to do what he has promised to do–especially when all human possibilities are exhausted. Faith glorifies God. That is why God planned for faith to be the way we are justified.

So here I am, telling you that…

I don’t want to stand at the edge of the pool saying, “yeah, I believe you can catch me Dad, but I don’t really feel like swimming. How about some other time?”

I don’t want to desperately cling to the edge with my toes, waiting and waiting and waiting for the appropriate amount of courage. Let’s face it. The appropriate amount of courage won’t come.

I don’t want to sit down on the edge in defeat and slide into the water, without giving up my death grip on the wall.

I also don’t want to walk away for a few moments and come back with floaties firmly placed on each arm, goggles and a tube around my waist.

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I want to be the kid that jumps.

With abandon.

No floaties.

No goggles.

No idea how to swim.

Trusting my Dad is going to be there.

You know what?

He’ll be there.

And He’s going to look like a total hero.

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Jump with me?

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love, allison

the Righteous Branch

Hey y’all.

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Saw this today in Jeremiah 23, and it gives me holy goosebumps.

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“The days are coming,” declares the Lord, “when I will raise up from David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteousness.”

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That Branch, that King, that Lord of Righteousness, is our God. Jesus Christ.

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love, allison

morning with Jan

Hey you.

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I spent time with my neighbor, Jan, the other morning. If you don’t know about her blueberry cobbler you’ve got to get up to speed.

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Here’s how I thought my morning with Jan was going to go:

1. Gather blueberry cobbler and recipe.

2. Walk down 1 flight of stairs, knock and exchange pleasantries.

3. Hug and leave.

Estimated total time? 5 minutes, tops.

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Oh no, that’s not even remotely what happened. It really went more like this:

1. Gathered blueberry cobbler and recipe.

2. Walked down 1 flight of stairs, knocked and exchanged pleasantries.

3. Jan asked me to put the cobbler in the fridge. She was feeling tired.

4. Jan trapped me.

5. Two homemade cookies, one cup of orange juice, one cup of coffee, three different sitting locales, and two-thousand stories (along with probably four hundred calories) later,

6. Jan asked me to take her for drive to look at real estate (she’s a former agent).

7. Jan asked me to clean her house for money so her cleaning lady didn’t have to come.

8. Jan told me her ex-husband tried to rape her deceased daughter. She divorced him, never to marry again.

9. Jan gave me a book to read about her deceased daughter.

10. Jan gave me a cookbook to “practice out of.” Apparently my cobbler wasn’t up to snuff.

11. Jan asked me to take her junk to Goodwill.

12. Jan invited me on several senior citizen trips, including one later this month and a 3-day trip in October where “I could be her roommate!”

13. Jan asked if I’d like all of her recipe collection.

14. Jan told me she paid cash for her car and her home and had saved enough for a nursing home.

15. Jan asked me to look up the repercussions of having your spleen removed. She still has hers.

16. Jan shared that she likes muumuu’s so she doesn’t have to wear a bra.

17. Jan said she’s going to call me tonight to pick up vanilla yogurt and plans to make other desserts to bring to up to my 2A place soon. She is not happy about me wanting to lose a mere 5 lbs.

18. Jan asked if I wanted to have weekly coffee and orange juice with her.

19. Jan wanted to know why we had all scratched up the hallway walls when we moved furniture in and out.

20. Jan showed me pictures of her grandchildren and grand nieces and nephews, including two that are “not pretty at all. It’s a shame.”

21. Phones rang, exchanged quick goodbyes and hugs, and ran up 1 flight of stairs to escape!

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So yeah, God has a very, very funny sense of humor, especially since my planned “quick” visit was an hour and a half long. I only escaped thanks to an unknowing friend who called at a very opportune moment, just as Jan received a call from the county fire department in search of donations. If it hadn’t been for my phone call, I’d still be there three days later, listening to her complain about our other neighbors.

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But here’s where I get hung up. Why is it easier and more natural for me to be teary-eyed watching an elderly stranger slowly crossing the street, than to show compassion and grace to the bitter-spirited Christ follower living downstairs?

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I think I am going to have to take her for a drive. I’ll tote her stuff to Goodwill. I’ll try out a few recipes and maybe even share. I’ll print out all I can find from WebMD’s spleen page. I may even clean and organize her house. And I’ll choke down some vanilla yogurt with my blueberry cobbler (such a stretch, right?). But no way, no how am I going to be Jan’s traveling companion in October. Please, Jesus, don’t make me do that.

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love, allison

unlimited patience.

Hello again!

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One of the things I wanted to do again this summer was read through the New Testament start to finish. It’s pretty short compared to the Old (and has less characters), so it hasn’t taken much time. I just finished up 1 Timothy, and I’ve identified so much with Paul’s words to the young Timothy in Chapter 1, starting with verse 15.

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason, I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display His unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on Him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, but honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

It is so wonderful to know and trust that I (and you!), as the worst sinner, am shown Christ’s full mercy, used to display His unlimited patience, and in spite of my many sins and shortcomings, will spend eternity with the King immortal. That’s worth clinging to!

Be encouraged fellow sinners. He came to the world just to save us.

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love, allison