He Makes All Things New

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy

and peace as you trust in Him."

~Romans 15:13

  This morning I laid out Christmas dishes for two. I looked at Facebook posts of friends posing in the snow with pregnant bellies and radiant mommy smiles. I saw the holiday tribute to our little one, Hope, on the mantle surrounded by twinkling lights and holly. My heart sank, and I felt no hope. This is a Christmas season that I looked forward to with such anticipation – not only because it is my very favorite time of the year, but because I fully expected to be one of those glowing mamas-to-be standing under falling snow, bursting with a dazzling joy.

The tree is up, holiday baking complete, presents bought, decorations out in full array. And my belly is empty. We buried our baby after 16 weeks of waiting, hoping, pleading for a miracle. It is hard to go through the motions of Christmas cheer. Hard to find joy when my longed-for little one lies under a tree in my back yard. Hard to give freely when inside I feel empty, and broken.

This morning I sat down to my quiet time. I opened to my bookmark for today’s assigned reading, Psalm 103. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.”

In the face of grief and disappointment, giving thanks feels shallow, and forced. I try to be grateful for what we do have, then wonder if it somehow “doesn’t count” because I don’t feel grateful. I don’t feel contented or joyful. 

But the list in Psalm 103 is not contingent on feelings. Whether or not I “feel” the weightiness of these truths does not affect the fact that they are TRUE. The Lord has forgiven me of all my sins. He healed me from all miscarriage complications (a testimony in and of itself), He has redeemed me, set me apart for Himself, sealed me with His love and mercy, given me everything that is good in Himself. He is merciful and gracious. He does not treat me as my sins deserve. He is compassionate, and present. He hears every longing cry. 

The Lord does not promise to fulfill our desires with things, or circumstances, or relationships. If He did, we would have little reason to cling to Him every moment.

In this season of emptiness I am reminded that I have all I need in Christ. 

My greatest need has already been atoned for, and on this earth I am simply passing through to a place where indescribable glory awaits. “This slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.”

 Belonging to Christ is truly the only way that I can survive in a broken, grief-stricken world. Without the hope of eternity suffering is senseless. It is only in looking at tragedy through an eternal lens – this is not how it was meant to be, but someday all will be well – that I can lift my head from the grave of my baby and worship the God who has ultimately conquered death.

This Christmas season, the gospel has taken on a new meaning for me. All I have is Christ. In the words of Noel Piper, “the reason for Christmas is the same as it ever was, and nothing is more essential to our lives than the incarnation. Trees are nothing. Feasts are nothing. Lights are nothing. Music is nothing. Only Jesus matters.”

 Every day I fight to cling to my Savior. I long for heaven, where Hope is waiting for us, whole and perfect. 

Even now I am filled with joy as I think of these two things: Jesus, and heaven! What more could we want or need? Anything else is an undeserved gift that was never meant to distract us from the Giver, but to bring us more deeply into relationship and dependence on Him. It is only through Him that we have Christmas, the day that our souls’ most poignant need was satisfied, completely, forever. 

And so, truly, Merry Christmas. This season we rejoice in a God who makes all things new.

Three Years of Love & Learning

Eleven days ago, Nathan and I celebrated our three-year (three years!) anniversary. To commemorate the occasion, I read back in my journal to three summers ago when we were brand-newlyweds. Three years is a long time; an eighth of my lifetime. And yet, in many ways my life has come full-circle to the way it was back then. Once again I am in-between jobs. Once again we are searching for a church home. Again I find myself with long hours to fill between waking and sleeping. Again our future is uncertain; we have no roots, we are not grounded.

Those early days as a wife were intense. Days of worrying, days of wondering:

I gained four pounds since our honeymoon! Three months and I haven't found a job. What am I supposed to do with my life? How do I maintain the independent qualities that Nathan loves, yet submit to his leadership? How do I take on my husband's preferences, habits and dreams without losing my individuality? What if I'm not enough? What if I really can't do this whole marriage thing? HOW do I love someone else more than myself, all day every day??

These thoughts and fears flowed freely in the summer of 2010, filling page after page of my journal. Reading back now, I wish I could have a conversation with my newlywed self. Tell myself to relax. It takes time, but marriage works itself out. Routines are established, personalities explored and understood, new habits evolve, and love becomes more richly seasoned. If God is the center of a relationship, and pleasing Him is the highest aim of husband and wife, conflict and selfishness - though a lifelong struggle - cannot thrive. And, as Ecclesiastes states, two are better than one. Countless times Nathan has lifted my gaze from the depths of self-pity to the blessings I've been given. So often he has deflected my accusations leveled at him to remind me that we are on the same team. Together we have learned the truth that love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

In many ways, marriage and relocation across the country have felt like a full-blown identity crisis. Who I thought I was is morphing into someone entirely different and yet, deep down, the same. It's uncomfortable. It can be scary. It has definitely revealed where my previous identity was rooted in the wrong things. Yet, through all the change and uncertainty, I've learned several invaluable truths that I wouldn't trade for anything:

1. 99% of God's will for me is revealed in Scripture. Ultimately, it doesn't matter what my job is or where we live or go to church or how many kids we have. Circumstances fluctuate. Change is constant. Life is immensely unpredictable. And yet, God's Word is my rock. No matter what storms we face, I am called to live in a way that honors and glorifies my Savior and puts others first. My feelings, my mood and my situation can never excuse me from obeying God. And I firmly believe that "finding God's will" in those big life decisions is of secondary importance to living every moment of every day in step with His Spirit. My greatest priority in this season of uncertainty needs to be living each day in accordance to what I already KNOW God's will for me is, and trusting Him to lead us through the rest.

2. I am not alone! No matter where I go or what I do, it's not just about me anymore. I have a husband who loves, supports and cheers for me in the smallest things like learning a song on the piano, taking a good picture or making his favorite meal. My life goal is no longer about being the best at my job or writing the next hit novel or impressing anyone else with my accomplishments. I have married a man and taken on his name and his identity. It's not about me. It's about us. His successes are my successes. Whatever God calls us to, we will accomplish together. This goes against the grain of an individualistic, independent culture, but I cannot survive long in a universe where I am at the center, nor would I want to. 

These past three years Nathan and I have grown in the art of loving well. The childhood mantra of "God first, others second, me third" is even more true today than it was then. C.S. Lewis defines true humility not as thinking less of myself, but as not thinking of myself at all. Those rare moments when I am caught up in complete joy - worshipping God or marveling at His creation of another human being - and my self ceases to exist, even for seconds, are the definition of pure and perfect happiness. In heaven my brain will not be running a constant background dialogue about how everything going on around me effects me, or how I feel about it. Every facet of my being will being will be caught up in eternal, blissful worship. This doesn't mean that I'm seeking to detach myself from my personality now. As Lewis explains, when I am fully God's, I will be more myself than ever - who He created me to be!

Thinking back on these three years of change, of being stretched and torn away from my comfort zone with nothing concrete about our future, I wouldn't trade a minute of it for stability. There is no growth in ease. In my selfish heart I so often equate God's will with what I want (i.e. not being challenged). I am so thankful that He loves me too much to let me have my own way, "for this light momentary affliction is preparing us for a weight of glory beyond all comparison." - 2 Cor. 4:17

Nate, thanks for being with  me on this journey. It's been a crazy ride, and there's no one I'd want beside me but you. Here's to many more years of unpredictability!

The Great Gatsby

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. 

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I was first introduced to The Great Gatsby as a junior in high school. A passionate lover of all things literary, I drank in the complex word pictures and sensuous imagery. Long after our study of the book was completed, I pored over its pages until phrases and descriptions were embedded in my memory. 

Soon I moved away to college, and then to Texas. All my belongings - including hundreds of well-loved books - were boxed and made various pilgrimages from bedroom to attic to moving van to three different apartments. In all the chaos I lost sight of my beloved Gatsby for awhile, until Baz Luhrmann's riveting preview of the film made its debut. I was spellbound by that preview. Thirty seconds of haunting, soul-beating music, accompanied by gold and glamour and heavy raindrops and Leonardo DiCaprio. As several other previews have leaked out over the past few weeks, I've grown even more excited about the film.

Luhrmann has some pretty big shoes to fill. Contemporary actors attempting to convey classic literary figures so vividly, perfectly painted in words can either impart the ultimate breath of life-giving air to complete the immortalization, or else fall despairingly short of portraying a character's psyche. That said, if I created a physical embodiment of Jay Gatsby out of thin air, I couldn't have painted a better portrait than Leonardo. He is Gatsby, in all his broken, extravagant yearnings. And Nick Carraway - dear, vague, introspective Nick - is given just the right touch of curious sincerity by Tobey Maguire.

This film has very nearly possessed me. The highlight of recent movies has been those glorious two minutes of Gatsby in the previews, a tantalizing appetizer for what is sure to be at least as exquisite as Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge. I dug up my well-worn copy of Gatsby and elected to buy a brand-new one; I wanted to read it with new eyes, and the corpulent highlighting, underlining and marginal notes distracted me.

Then Nathan made the greatest of masculine sacrifices and allowed me to read Gatsby to him. Aloud. We breezed through the entire book in less than a week and he only fell asleep a few times. He then proceeded to top that and get us tickets to the premiere. Tonight. The night before he goes out of town. That, friends, is a selfless gesture worthy of the highest esteem - although I have a sneaking suspicion that he's nearly as enchanted with the mystery that is Jay Gatsby as I am. 

Here are some of my favorite quotes from this reading, as well as exquisite book covers from printings over the years. If you haven't yet been introduced to F. Scott Fitzgerald, I hope this whets your appetite.

"I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men."

"I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart."

"There was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life."

"It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again...the exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain."

"The glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk."

"The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life."

"High over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life."

"There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars."

"I saw the skins of tigers flaming in his palace on the Grand Canal; I saw him opening a chest of rubies to ease, with their crimson-lighted depths, the gnawings of his broken heart."

"Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy."

"A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock ticked on the washstand and the moon soaked with wet light his tangled clothes upon the floor."

"Daisy and Jordan lay upon an enormous couch, like silver idols weighing down their own white dresses against the singing breeze of the fans."

"Ahead lay the scalloped ocean and the abounding blessed isles."

"Her voice struggled on through the heat, beating against it, molding its senselessness into forms."

"They were careless people, Tom and Daisy - they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made..."

"I thought of Gatsby's wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night. Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter - tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther...And one fine morning - So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Photos courtesy of

The New York Times Style Magazine

.