gratitude – Page 4 – Abigail Dodds

Hopeful No Matter What Happens on Super Tuesday

By: Abigail Dodds March 1, 2016

body of Christ, culture, gratitude, politics, UncategorizedLeave a Comment

As we in MN stare down Super Tuesday, poised to do our part and head to the caucus, I find myself hopeful and thankful.

With just a smidge of irony (because isn’t that how God works?), “Two” Corinthians just so happens to be the place where all this hope is welling up from.

“Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart. But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God’s word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:1-6 ESV)

Christian friends, let’s resolve with Paul to refuse to practice cunning, but with an open statement of truth, let’s commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience. We can openly and with a clear resolve, give our Gospel, God-fearing reasons for who we hope will be President of our country, all the while making it clear that our peace with God is not disturbed by whatever happens. We can give thanks for all that there is to give thanks for in this country. This is our chance to show who our hope really is in. Go to your caucus and preach Christ, friends, not a candidate. Yes, you’ll have to vote one way or another and I’m sincerely praying that no Christians vote for Trump, but even as we give our support to a candidate, we must make it our larger goal to point to the source of true hope. Is there a place more fraught with worry and anger and more in need of the Gospel than the political sphere? We have an opportunity to shine the light of Christ.

Perhaps the most countercultural way we can testify to the fact that Christ has come to save–that his kingdom is at hand–is to show that by the imperturbable state of our heart and utter reliance and confidence in God. Preach Christ by refusing to let your spirit be rattled or agitated by what’s to come. Which isn’t to say that we are indifferent. No, not indifferent, but set apart, invested in the life of our country, but with our citizenship fully in heaven.

I’m remembering that God uses the strangest, most unlikely things to draw people to himself. I’m remembering that, even though some may intend evil, that God means all things for good for his people and that, even while we work against the evil as we should, God is powerful to turn the evil upside down and refine his church, strengthen his bride and bring many sons to glory.

We live in the Kingdom of light, not darkness, and I don’t mean America. God has transferred us from the kingdom of darkness and now we walk with him in the light. God’s kingdom came to us when he shined the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ into our hearts. Rather than act fearful of all that could come, we stand on a sure foundation. We do not fear for ourselves or our children. We serve the Living God and he will make all grace abound to us, no matter the outcome of Super Tuesday or any day after.

So, go caucus friends; caucus as unashamed and immovable children of God and bring the light of Christ to the dark places.

Radical Gratitude

By: Abigail Dodds February 7, 2016

culture, gratitude, politics3 Comments

Bill Maher recently interviewed Gloria Steinem. I don’t watch Bill Maher, but I saw a headline that peaked my interest about a statement Gloria Steinem made as to why young feminists are supporting Bernie Sanders over Hillary Clinton. She said young women are thinking, “Where are the boys? The boys are with Bernie.” The implication being that young feminists just want to be “Where The Boys Are” as one song famously put it.

This fascinated me for a number of reasons, but while watching the interview, I came across something even more intriguing. Bill Maher asks Ms. Steinem if young women are complacent about Roe v. Wade–if they don’t appreciate it as much as the older generation. And Ms. Steinem replies with this, “Gratitude never radicalized anybody.” She explains that she never said thank you for the right to vote, but rather it was her anger about what was happening to her that drove her action. She says that nowadays young women are “mad as hell” about college debt and earning less than men over their lifetime, in contrast, their mere gratitude over so-called abortion rights doesn’t fuel any action. First off, I don’t agree with any of the causes Ms. Steinem is advocating. But I want to understand what she thinks is the motivating factor for change.

Steinem believes anger is the fuel of progress. It’s only when we’re fed up that we’ll start to initiate change. This is a righteous anger to her, a matter of injustice being corrected. So she believes abortion is a right and worked to get it because of what she saw as injustice. Now in reality that’s a perversion of justice. Killing babies isn’t justice for anybody. But putting aside her amorality, you can get your head around the principle. Injustice ought to drive us to action. I do not agree with her on what constitutes injustice and what is worth being angry over. But nevertheless, I get it.

But does it follow that righteous indignation over injustice is the only way to transformation? Does it follow that gratitude is impotent? That is never radicalized anybody?

The Gospel of Christ, the knowledge of him and receiving of his grace is the true transformation. It is the only way to change inside or outside. And gratitude is a potent byproduct of that.

Romans tells us that the world has two big problems, it doesn’t honor God as God and it won’t give thanks to him. Gratitude is a big deal. And not as some manufactured “to do” for people who are trying to be saved. It’s also not some payback, like you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours system that Christians have going with God. We do owe him thanks. But no one wants thanks that aren’t true overflow. What we owe him can’t be given as payback. It’s got to be a real heartfelt response.

Begrudging thanks or thanks that are duty go against the spirit of gratitude, which is a spirit of overflow, of gladness, of simple gratefulness. There’s an element of spontaneity in them, of something that can’t be suppressed, it bubbles up and can’t be kept down.

That’s what thankful people are like. And what a radical thing they are in our day. Grateful people are transformed and transformative. When gratitude wells up, it kills entitlement. The spring of gratitude turns victims into whole, full people.

I’ve never seen a truly grateful person be divisive or argumentative. A heart is not made to harbor gratitude alongside sin, which is what makes it so powerful, so radical. And it’s presence can change a whole room.

So you want to see change? You want real injustice to end? You want to be radical? Ask God to open your eyes too all you have to be grateful for. And if your a Christian and belong to Christ–God has given you his Son and along with him all things. I’m pretty sure that’s enough to keep gratitude overflowing into eternity.

Because Christmas Keeps Coming

By: Abigail Dodds December 13, 2015

body of Christ, family, gratitude, Uncategorized1 Comment

I’m reliving the past as I sit at home Sunday morning with a vomiting kiddo, on the cusp of Christmas once again and the thoughts stir in my head about the Incarnation, the mess, the chaos, the Word, and what’s this all about anyway?!

Then I start to sense that perhaps I’ve thought these thoughts before, perhaps these feelings are all too familiar. Maybe, could it be, I’ve actually written these thoughts down before. One advantage to having an overstuffed memory is that everything seems new all the time! I’ve been known to sit down to a movie I’ve seen before with almost no recollection of it whatsoever. Maybe that’s why writing the same themes over and over again never gets old.

And maybe that’s why Christmas comes every year. Because our finitude makes us needy for reminders. Chesterton says, “But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon.”

And also, perhaps knowing this world is for finite people, he’d know that that’s how often we’d need reminded that he is good. He is God. He did it, again–the sun gave warmth and light. Maybe he knows that I’d forget, even in just a day, that he does that sort of incomprehensible thing.

So, to remind myself of the lessons of yesteryear, I’m linking up to my previous Christmas posts. If they all sound strangely similar, let’s just say God doesn’t tire of teaching me the same lesson. I’m so thankful that Christmas keeps coming.

A Christmas Misadventure (With Stitches)

What Vomit Under the Christmas Tree Teaches Me About the Glorious Incarnation

Christmas in Pictures

What’s With All This Stuff?! It’s Christmas Of Course!

A Mom’s Made-Up Holiness at Christmas

Reflections on Giving Thanks

By: Abigail Dodds November 23, 2015

body of Christ, gratitude, UncategorizedLeave a Comment

Thanksgiving is right around the corner which has got me thinking about the sometimes strange interplay between our thankfulness, our suffering and our identity in Christ.

Every now and then you’ll meet someone or perhaps you’ll be someone (I know I’ve wrestled with this) who can’t tolerate the coexistence of suffering and thankfulness. Some of us are simply convinced that a thankful heart will cancel out the legitimacy of our suffering. That if we give way to true full throated thankfulness, people will start forgetting our pain and trials.

Actually this is the farthest thing from the truth. When we’re thankful to God for all the gifts he’s given and especially the sending of his Son to die and live for us, people are not less interested in walking alongside our suffering, but rather we become less invested in it. Our hardships are not the definitive part of our life that we must make sure everyone knows about us, rather Christ in us, is the thing that cannot be contained and must be made known to everyone we meet. Our sufferings do not disappear because we’ve sprinkled magical thankful dust on them, but now they serve the cause of magnifying him as part of the story he’s given us.

Thanksgiving is powerful, to be sure, in as much as it focuses on the pinnacle of all things to be thankful for: the word of truth, the Gospel of Jesus, the grace of God to save and sanctify us and the Triune God himself. The world has tapped into the remedial power of thanksgiving–godless people recognize that focusing on the good things in life rather than the bad makes you a happier person. But this is the teeniest, tiniest taste of what thanksgiving affords. Even thanksgiving that is misguided in its direction (thankful to stuff rather than to the Giver), can have a strong impact on someone’s life.

Yet, we who have Christ must ponder how true thankfulness for the most thank-worthy event and Person in history transforms the human heart. It is part and parcel of our new birth and identity in Christ. When our minds are made alert to the Gospel and the Spirit is blowing life into us, the warmth in His breath is thankfulness. Thankful people are genuinely warm. I’ve never met a cold person with a thankful bent.

Oh my prayer for this heart of mine is warm, glad-hearted thankfulness– first and foremost to God for his sending Christ into the world on a saving mission and Christ imparting the Spirit, then along with those, that I give thanks to God in all things and every circumstance.

Even in lament, our identity as God’s children give us reason for thanks. Psalm 73 is a psalm of lament, and God’s people end it like this:

“But we your people, the sheep of your pasture,
will give thanks to you forever;
from generation to generation we will recount your praise.”(Psalm 79:13 ESV)

A Hot Mess of Glory, or, Our Garden and Us

By: Abigail Dodds August 6, 2015August 6, 2015

body of Christ, family, gratitudegardenLeave a Comment

I’ve said before that a garden is a metaphor for most all of life and it seems I’ve only uncovered a minuscule amount of all that could be learned there. Joe Rigney says that Scripture is the lens through which we read the world and it seems to me there’s a plot of content to be unearthed.

We came home to our garden after over a week of neglect and discovered a hot mess of weeds and growth. Thankfully not all weeds, lots of good growth, lots to harvest and enjoy.

Which reminded me of my life, weeds alongside food, sin alongside growth. It’s discouraging the rate of weed growth when ignored, just like it’s discouraging how quickly entangled sin gets in my life when I ignore it. But God is gracious and He produces good things, good growth, even where sin is present. But it can’t go on like that without the weeds or sin taking over. It must be sorted out, pulled, dug up, repented of, killed. Again and again. Every day.

When I look at the pics of our garden at the end of May, I remember just how it felt–like it was all under control. Like there was a place for everything and everything in its place. Like I was waiting for miracles that I could count on. Like, if I did this right, there would be no more stinging nettle.. ever. Like an experiment that was bound to be a wild success. Like I was going to sit on my bench and watch all my garden dreams come true. And if I’m being honest, like the same way I felt when we got married and when we first had kids. It felt like: We Got This.

When I put the bench in the garden I thought it would be there for me to sit on, to rest and soak in all the beauty. Ha! The real reason it’s there, which I didn’t foresee, is for me to have a place to set my tools and to put the baskets of produce waiting to be hauled up and to give Titus a place to stand at while I’m frantically getting as much done as I can. It’s there for the gladiolas to lean against as they shoot up tall. I don’t think I’ve sat on it since the day I put it there.

And that’s a lot like life. Everything is sentimental, with soft edges, on the front end. It’s also a giant underestimation. When our first three children were 3, 1, and newborn, it was easy to be sentimental about them and their future. Even with the crazy little years, there is an element of control that parents have that slips away in larger chunks as they grow. This can be either scary or purposeful– or some of both if you’re like me, but it’s definitely not sentimental.

The wreath that announced “Our Garden” has lost its little sign and drooped, even while the truth of the matter is, this is more Our Garden than ever. More work, more sweat, more investment, but now lacking the sentiment that got us started. Same with raising kids. The vision statement for our family and homeschool, the 1, 5, and 10 year goals–they haven’t been consulted in years. All that intentionality and hopefulness, it was a good thing, still is, it’s just not a theory anymore.

It’s hard to be sentimental about garden growth when your wielding a tiller and sweat is dripping off your nose and down your back and your hands are burning from pulling up the stinging nettle without gloves–again. Now I know–stinging nettle is never gone. It creeps in, it has to be pulled every time.

And I also know that there is no fence that keeps sin away from my kids. Don’t get me wrong, fences are a good thing and faithful parents use them. But they aren’t impenetrable. Sin is within and without. It has to be pulled every time. And as they get older, it takes more and more cooperation and initiative on their part and less sheer will and determination on mine. They must take up this mantle and I must transition from primary enforcer of sin management to primary encourager/instructor of sin management. Not to mention being an encourager of growth and godliness. And even with my oldest only entering 6th grade, already I feel that process of trust and letting go start its slow release.

Sometimes we get fruit we don’t expect, like carrots and tomatoes. I thought for sure we’d have cukes and zukes, but didn’t know if our soil was right for carrots and tomatoes. Lo and behold, I’ve got a bumper crop on my hands. Not only are the weeds more prolific than I imagined, so has been the produce.

When the garden is in its giving season, it’s easy to almost resent all that growth. I don’t know what to do with more beans! I don’t need any more lettuce! I’ve shredded enough zucchini for ridiculous amounts of bread! But that’s just like our God to give us more than we could ask or think.

God’s given us five children and I can’t remember a morning where I’ve awakened and thought, We Got This. I can’t remember a moment where it all felt within my grasp and control. I can’t ever remember thinking in regard to Titus’s special needs, “This is just what I’d planned for!” For me, there’s been no such thing as “planned parenthood.” Because God’s actually exploded my tiny plans and vision for our family. It’s been harder and better than I bargained for.

I thought we were raising a family of easy-going cucumbers, but he’s given me variety and bounty and spice and sweetness and just plain more goodness than I knew was good for me. So rather than resent all that bounty, I must remember that bounty isn’t for hoarding, but sharing–both in our garden and in our home. We’ve been entrusted with Gospel bounty, not to let it go to waste, but to enjoy and share.

Oh, the prayer of my heart is that this would be true of our family–sharing His goodness, unafraid of the toil that makes growth possible, covered in sweat and abounding in every good work, leaving behind sentimentality for the greater blessing of living.

What Does a Happy Ending Mean?

By: Abigail Dodds March 23, 2015

gratitude, questionsresurrection2 Comments

About a year ago, I was spending a lot of time making peace with a sad ending. I was asking what a sad ending means and wondering how anyone comes through the devastation of one.

The Lord was faithful to answer that question. In a word, he answered it with: resurrection. When a sad ending feels like the final chapter, our hope of resurrection tells us otherwise. It constantly reminds us that there is hope on the other side of the grave. We look back at our resurrected Jesus, at our once dead, risen King and we look forward to His life in us and His life in our loved ones after death has had its way.

Now, a year later, a different question has been nagging me. What does a happy ending mean? What if death is postponed, what if that fear that we carried around in our chest like someone was tightening a noose on our heart, intent on taking us to the brink, has subsided.

What does it mean when we’ve begged God to make something untrue, and by some measures, that has happened? Is this the moment when we claim victory and sermonize on the power of prayer to do just exactly what we wanted it to? Do we march triumphant, laughing at the death that we’ve defied? What does it mean that Titus survived that awful seizure and time on life support? What does it mean that he’s doing better than we expected and is progressing forward rather than regressing?

There is a devilish temptation to give glory to God for seeing the wisdom of our perfect plan. How godly we can look when we give glory to God for answering our prayers, even if the prayers say, “My will be done,” rather than, “Thy will be done.” The truth is, many of my prayers have been selfish and nothing more than a desperate mom’s clinging to a life that doesn’t belong to her. I know I have to be careful how I say this. It isn’t wrong to pray for God to heal your child, or ask for our loved one to live and not die. It’s right and good. But do we end with, “Not my will, but yours, God.” Are our hands lifted and open?

And is it right to claim Titus’s progression as an answer to our prayers? Isn’t it self-aggrandizing to assume that I understand the reason God has granted Titus to be where he’s at right now? What I can know for sure is that Titus is where He is because of the kind providence of God. It’s not that my prayers don’t matter, but praying simply to get what I want, is not the point of prayer. If prayer doesn’t align my will with his, what is it, but wishing upon a star?

One thing I’ve learned is that God’s will isn’t simple. He is not indebted to give His children yeses to their prayers. He told his own perfect Son, no.

Sometimes we have really special things planned for our kids. We plan vacations or get togethers with friends and they often don’t know about it until the plans are underway. Then, on occasion, they will ask for the very thing we’ve already planned. They’ll ask to get together with someone and it just so happens that we are planning on heading to their house later that day. It was part of the plan before they asked. They might think that we’re going because they asked, but we’re not, it was in the plan.

That’s how I feel about Titus. God has a plan. Our job is to submit to his will and allow him to bend us in ways we’ve never been bent before. Does God answer prayer? Yes. But claiming to understand how or why certain prayers get answered is risky when those prayers are not part of God’s revealed Biblical will. There are some prayers that I know God will answer with YES! When I confess my sins, repent and ask him for forgiveness, he ALWAYS says yes. When I ask for patience or self-control He always provides opportunities and the Spirit’s help to follow through with it. But it’s harder to correlate his answers to prayers outside of His revealed will for us. And when we do presume that He has answered our prayers for circumstantial good things on the basis of our asking (not necessarily in accordance with His will), it can also lead to a puffed up, inflated self-importance–the kind of view that believes our will has the power to bend his will, when it is exactly the opposite. Prayer is about bending our will to His.

Jesus taught us to pray, “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Wouldn’t it be good to give glory to God for healing Titus, whether we know for sure if he did or not? I’m not so sure. It doesn’t glorify him or honor him to misinterpret or presume upon the storyline. Titus’s brain is still the same. He’s developing, yet disabled. He’s doing better than we expected and all of the praise for that goes to God.

Without glorifying our prayers, we can glorify Him by trusting His sovereign, wise plan when He takes and when He gives. We glorify Him with faith that He will give us the exact number of hardships that are good for us. We glorify Him by continuing to pour out our hearts and ask without hesitation in accordance with His will. We glorify Him with faith that He loves our son more than we do. And with faith that He loves us, too.

Have you talked to someone who believes that God has answered their prayers favorably regarding an earthly circumstance and is triumphant about it? Have you been pressured to just believe that God would give healing? Have you been made to feel like God’s answers to your prayers hinged on the amount of faith you could muster (not faith in God, mind you, but faith in a favorable outcome)? Is He glorified by pride about our faith?

A happy ending doesn’t mean I get credit for earning a yes from God.

Another thing it doesn’t mean is that all the sad chapters are over. It would be silly to call Titus’s story a happy ending when he’s nineteen months old. But it’s tempting to do so. How badly we want to be done with the pain! I can’t claim a happy ending for any of my children.. or myself.. or anyone! We can be thankful for the kind providence of what he’s granting us right now, without clutching at tomorrow. This life doesn’t end happily for anyone, because it ends in death for everyone. Death is our enemy.

It is on the other side of our enemy, death, that we get our happy ending. Knowing this means we can say, “Where is your victory Death?” We can mock death, “Where is your sting?” We can live in peace and contentment, because our ultimate destination is happy forever.

So what does a happy ending mean? For a Christian, it means the same thing that a sad ending means. The story isn’t over. This life isn’t our ending. We bank it all on the resurrection hope that we have because of Jesus Christ’s bloody death on a cross. He swallowed death on that cross and we will be raised with him. The perishable putting on the imperishable; the mortal, immortality.

A Mom’s Made-Up Holiness at Christmas

By: Abigail Dodds December 16, 2014December 20, 2014

body of Christ, gratitude5 Comments

For years this very vague version of Christmas has been floating around my mind. In this version, there is no chaos, no hurriedness, no cleaning, no messes, no loud noises, no shopping, no cooking, and especially no illnesses. It’s the “how it should-be”, or at least the “how I imagine it would be if I were much holier” version of Christmas. Unfortunately that doesn’t leave me with much, since those things fill up a pretty hefty part of life for the mother of many.

I think moms with littles can fall prey to wanting Christmas to be exactly what it isn’t and never was: simple and easy.

We think that surely Christmas is about quiet reflection and pondering silently with our coffee in one hand and Bible in the other. That real holiness lies in uninterrupted thoughts and long stretches of time gazing at the Jesse tree. That if we were further along in our sanctification we’d chuck this madness called Christmas and relinquish our duties to shop, prepare food, decorate and celebrate. Surely these extravagant feasts and gifts are a little over the top. We may even feel guilty for participating, as if by making snowman cookies with the kids we cheapen this holy time. We worry about too many presents and decide to do less next year.

Strip Christmas down to its essence, we think. Get rid of all this clutter. Christmas should be easier, we’re sure. But it hasn’t been that way from the beginning. From Mary hopping on a donkey and birthing in a stable, to terrified shepherds and shouting angels, to Herod’s horrible decree, to wise men bringing their gifts and their worship under a giant star. Christmas is a spectacle.

Yet we want Christ to come to us and bring external peace to our circumstances at Christmas. We want him to make young needy children, less needy; to make time-consuming food preparations quick and hassle-free; to make relational tensions with family disappear; to make getting ready for guests, seamless; to make the trek to relatives’ houses unhurried and simple; to make all this work on our to-do list, not work.

But Christ came to rule in our hearts, not change our circumstances. He came to give us the kind of heart that looks at the to-do list and sees a hundred ways to bless her family and extend that blessing to hundreds more. Through his perfect life, death and resurrection, Christ came to undo our small-minded resentments at our work and replace them with willing hands and thankful hearts. Christ came to change our ideas of simplistic solo holiness and instead he put us in families.

What has God entrusted to you this Christmas? Is it the privilege of hosting family, friends, neighbors or co-workers? Then welcome people in Jesus’ name and show them how extravagant God’s love is. Is it traveling to someone else’s home? Then go willingly in Jesus’ name and be a blessing. Is it making Christmas memories for your immediate family? Then do good to them by celebrating Jesus in ways that minister to every age represented. Is it caring for sick people and missing out on everything you’d hoped for? Then do for the least of these as you would for Christ.

This Christmas Jesus wants from us the same thing He always wants: death to our selfish desires and made-up notions of holiness and absolute joy and loyalty to Him. He’s bought our faithfulness so that we can make the food, set the table and wrap the gifts in the strength He supplies. The Prince of Peace has come and He can make our love multiply a hundredfold in Jesus’ name, even, maybe especially, during the chaos of Christmastime.

Reaping a Harvest in the Snow

By: Abigail Dodds November 11, 2014

body of Christ, gratitude, sorrow2 Comments

I was shocked last month when I saw our lilies with new buds and blossoms among the falling leaves of mid-October. The kids had told me about them a day or two before, but I hadn’t made it outside to check and had completely forgotten about it until I happened upon them for myself. It was startling and looked out of place, but beautiful.

At the same time, our indoor orchid was slowly dying after having bloomed for many months with the most blossoms at one time we’d ever had: 11. I pruned it back and now we wait to see when it will decide to flower again. It’s blossomed twice since we moved here over a year ago and three times at our old house.

I made it outside again the day before the snowstorm that hit yesterday. I was picking some things up and admiring the work of some friends that had come over to help us get our place ready for winter. I was surprised to see the lilies still going, even with the temperature having dropped.

I walked around to my garden which had been utterly neglected the last two plus months just to see what the damage was. I had purposely avoided looking at it, knowing that my priorities had to be taking care of the people under our roof and feeling guilty about the garden wouldn’t help anything. So my shock when I found three heads of cabbage just waiting to be plucked up was substantial, so was my delight!

I can’t help but relate this to life currently. When I step back from our life and see what it’s like, it’s not what I thought it would be like. It’s harder and sometimes scarier. Sometimes it seems like our life is an unexpected snowstorm in early November, when what we planned on was a nice spot inside with the fire going. We want to be the orchid that blossoms on the counter. Instead we find ourselves in an unattended garden with dropping temperatures.

Yet, isn’t that the miracle? Somehow or another, when we weren’t paying attention, just taking step after step in the life we were given, asking God to help us weather the cold, fruit happened. And by fruit I don’t mean accomplishments, I mean His fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

By God’s mysterious grace, He ministers to us and through us in ways we never could have foreseen and wouldn’t have chosen. He causes growth in the winter and then uses it to nourish others. This is the ministry He gives us, walking through our own unique life circumstances with His Spirit. The love and peace he grows in us will be the fruit that another will need to sustain them as they walk through difficulties.

Your life may be nothing like you imagined it would be. I never dreamed we’d have an IV pole in our kitchen or that our son would get nourishment through a button put into his tummy. Maybe you never dreamed you still wouldn’t be married, or that you’d ever be divorced or that you’d be longing for a baby, or that you’d be moving again, or stuck in the same unhappy job, or that you’d be so.. ordinary. But whatever it is, it is the soil that He intends to make you fruitful in. It is the place that He is growing the seeds of His righteousness and Spirit. So keep on walking and trusting and don’t be surprised when you find yourself covered in snow and blossoming in winter. Because that’s our God.

“..May people blossom in the cities
like the grass of the field!
May his name endure forever,
his fame continue as long as the sun!
May people be blessed in him,
all nations call him blessed!” Psalm 72:16,17

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad;
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus;
it shall blossom abundantly
and rejoice with joy and singing.” Isaiah 35:1

The Risky Business of Bible Reading

By: Abigail Dodds October 23, 2014

body of Christ, everyday, gratitudebible readingLeave a Comment

The Bible isn’t like any other book. To read it is to be confronted.

It confronts us with the truth about ourselves and the truth about God. One thing we learn as we read it is that reading it is not necessarily a holy act. Reading the Bible may be the most sinful thing you could do, if you use it, rather than come under it in humility.

Reading the Bible to gain standing with God or other people is one way we use it sinfully. Reading it to know God, to be taught by him, to receive from him, is the only way we can read it rightly. There is a sense in which the study of the Bible can itself become a god. We can read it in such a double-minded fashion that we believe because we study it, we know the One whose book it is. To read the Bible and not be changed by it, is risky. To read the Bible in order to look smart, is to profoundly reject what it actually teaches.

The Bible’s purpose is two kinds of knowing. Knowing the information and stories in the pages, and knowing the Person. You can have the first without the second. You can’t have the second without some amount of the first.

As I reflect on how I’ve read the Bible, there has been much of the wrong kind of reading over the years. There are so many temptations to read it like a cookbook, or a self-help pamphlet, or fix-it manual, or to look holy. Yet, in all that, there has been profound grace. In all the mis-use and tainted motivations, the Person in the pages has been revealed. The evil motives have been confronted as the reading rolls on. Repentance has been taught. Forgiveness has been given.

Reading the Bible will always be risky business and we shouldn’t take it lightly. A healthy dose of humility and fear should accompany our reading. But NOT reading the Bible is whole different kind of frightening. Taking it for granted, ignoring it, assuming we know it all already, avoiding the confrontation we know it will bring–that’s as close to soul suicide as I can think of.

Do you have a Bible? Are you willing to have your life crushed and reborn? Do you want to know God? Then read your Bible and ask the Person in the pages to meet you there.

“That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us—that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.” (1 John 1:1-4 ESV)

Borrowing Praise in the Pew

By: Abigail Dodds August 31, 2014October 28, 2014

body of Christ, gratitude, sorrowLeave a Comment

Have you ever come to church in turmoil or sadness, feeling rattled, asking questions, with heavy weights and the wrong kind of fear?

I praise God for the many times this hasn’t been my lot, but there are enough times where it has been to leave a strong memory of what it’s like and to notice when I see someone who looks to be in that spot.

Everyone stands to sing and for one reason or another the words aren’t coming out. Maybe they’re choked by tears, because there’s nothing theoretical about what’s being sung, it’s all utterly real and has stunned you in the farthest reaches: “I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ Name.” Or maybe they’re too dissonant to what you’re walking through. Perhaps singing, “O, Death, where is your sting?” seems impossible when you feel sucker-punched by death or its effects have dramatically altered the life of someone close to you.

Whatever the difficulty in life: disease, divorce, death, betrayal; this difficulty may leave us feeling very out of place in the middle of the worshiping body of Christ. But I’d like to share my experience in the pew during some difficult times. It’s a testimony of the Spirit’s gracious care. Through the tears or hardness or pain, God has reminded me of something very kind: His body is One. He’s put me in the middle of pew after pew of His children, some of whom are singing full-throated, robust praises. Some have their hands raised and some have faces that are beaming like light, unobscured.

Even when I can’t sing or raise my eyes, the soon-to-be-married bright young woman five rows up can do it for me. When I can’t lift my arms to clap, the 7 year old down the aisle can clap on my behalf. And when my hand is too weak to raise in praise, the man up ahead with a couple littles squirming around and a wife about to have another, can lift his. This is the body of Christ and each one of us is apart of it.

When one part of the body is weak, the other parts take up the slack. When one part is strong, it pours itself out for the rest.

There is a danger for the suffering, the danger of anger and bitterness toward the strong. It’s an attitude that begrudges them their faith and circumstances, and makes a mockery of it, as if to say, “If you were in my shoes, see how strong your faith would be!” But this attitude is like a man who has a broken arm deciding to break the other arm out of a sense of spite and twisted fairness. We are all part of One Body.

Praise God that there is an alternative to that kind of soul-shriveling envy. We can borrow the strength of strong. We can praise by proxy. We can give thanks that someone else is happily proclaiming the words that stick in our throat. We can say amen to the truths we know, but can’t speak.

And by God’s grace, there may be a day not far off when our eyes are clear and our hearts bursting when we sing with all our might to the God who is with us in the valley. Perhaps just a few rows away from us someone will need to hear our voice penetrating into their heaviness, they’ll need our hands lifted up, offering what they can’t, with their whispered amens to it all. And we’ll do it for them, because we are members of one another in this body that belongs to Christ.