Pure

By Heather Allen –

On this sanctification journey there are moments where I reflect on where I have been.  Sometimes I travel pretty far back, to the spot where it began: on my knees, next to my bed, at the age of six. Even as a little one I felt an internal conflict when I was asked to do something I did not want to do.  At times I disobeyed, and other times I lied. I fought with my brothers when they provoked me. For the most part I was a happy kid in a happy home.

And my world grew as I grew, and I found myself struggling with other types of sin.  The root was pretty much the same, selfishness and conceit. I think I loved God since I was a wee tot, but verbalizing that Jesus is Lord and that God raised Him from the dead gave life to my heart.

A few nights ago I was reading the news headlines, our world has been set on fire.  Sexual sin is everywhere. Theft, dishonesty, and dishonorable behavior are the new norm.  At one point I closed my computer and laid flat on my face.  This is an age of deception and I am fighting to keep from being deceived.  I feel the weight of contending with sin every single day. And it is tiresome.  But then I think about all of the changes in me.  There are thousands of small, daily victories where I have not given into my wants and feelings.  And learning to deny myself has led to character change.

A friend of mine said, “We will not be pure on accident, it will be something we fight hard for.”  I think she is right.  The point of purity is not so I can look shiny and clean and it isn’t just a nice thing to say because I am a Christ follower.  It is a down and dirty all out battle against my flesh.  It shows up everywhere, even in the grocery checkout where I am assaulted by magazine cover stories featuring infidelity, selfishness, and greed.  All presented in such a photo-shopped way, that the average girl cannot help but wonder what went wrong in her genetic pool.  It is a mind game. And as a whole, one I do not see being won.

So, how do I raise my kids in this culture?  How do I raise two Daniels and one Deborah?  My solution is not youth group, or Sunday school classes.  It is not counseling or involving them in good activities. This is battle. And being involved in good things is not the same as being armed.

“How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word. I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.” (Psalm 119:9-11 NIV).

At some point, they will, like all of us, have to choose. They will decide. But while my babies are still home, I will teach them to hide the word in their hearts. I write this knowing that hiding His word in my heart will provide the only map that keeps me from stumbling head long into the apostasy minefield that Jude spoke of. The truth is I need to be cleaned and changed and the only source I know is the Word.  It is, after all, what endures.

“The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8 NIV).

Heather Allen spends most of her time caring for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.theknottedapron.blogspot.com/

An Off Brand Life

By Heather Allen –

Can I tell you what I want from life? Do you have a minute to pull up a chair? I want a smallish house with beautiful plants surrounding it and a roof made of shakes. Smells wafting from the kitchen that welcome visitors and make them want to stay for the cookies in the oven; sounds of kids laughing, with me straining to hear all the ridiculously cute things they are saying. Permanence: same house, same garden, new friends are okay, same grocery store, same streets. But ah, it seems that it is not to be.

My heart feels a little tattered tonight, like a rag flappin’ out on the line.

At age 13 I told my mom I did not want an ordinary life. How I wish I could go back and muzzle that big-mouthed girl. There is enough adventure in books. Fictional characters do not lay awake at night worrying about their kids adjusting.

So here I am another house in another state, but thankfully a little closer to those I love best. Yet I feel my life is an itchy sweater with seams that keep twisting up my body. The tag at the neck is driving me to distraction: it’s fixating. I cannot breathe right, I do not feel right, but I just keep yanking at that tag. It is easier than learning to live with it, or around it.

If God put His hand on my head my whole body would probably still be squirming. There is only one conversation I am looking to have but He keeps bringing me back to where we started “Set your heart on pilgrimage”.

I do not like being a pilgrim, and it doesn’t strike me as a very family friendly lifestyle.   My mind spins and forms an extensive list of questions, so I read the book of Job. He had questions about his life. It started well, but not even halfway through the first chapter he starts a downhill spiral. I am a bit dramatic, but I can relate to his confusion and his longing for some answers.

At the heart of my conflicted life lies a deep desire to see the extraordinary, even if it means traveling to the ends of the earth. So I will endeavor to set my heart on pilgrimage. Believing a God whose knowledge spans beginning to end, I will learn to trust.  He left His home to save me; I can leave mine too.

“My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” Job 42:5 (NIV)

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.” Psalms 84:5 (NIV)

Someone to Hold

By Heather Allen –

This summer I met a stocky toddler with honey brown eyes. She and her baby sister are wards of the state.  Over the past year I have spent some time with foster children. In the sadness of their situation there is also joy.  Many believers open their lives and homes to help care for these children. The duration is uncertain; it can be weeks or years. A housemother from a children’s home said girls in her care are constantly moved, often with only ten minutes to gather their belongings and adjust emotionally. I think about my belongings filling shelves and closets and counters while theirs fit in a solitary bag. What would it be like to not know the people you live with or how long you will be with them?

My friend Stephanie is fostering two little girls, and knowing their time together may be short, she longs to give them hope. Zephaniah 3:17 is painted on their temporary bedroom wall.

“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” (NIV)

Hurting over the toddler, who insists on keeping every possession by her side, Stephanie asked, “If that were you or I, stripped to one small bag that held all our belongings, would we still believe we were loved?  Would we believe our life had purpose? And how tightly would we cling to that bag?” She went further. “Imagine everything you hold is lifted from your grasp. Who would you be?”

In Egypt, the Israelites cried for a deliverer. They prayed God would rescue them. He did. Plagues that struck the Egyptians did not touch them. They were set apart but it was not because they had done anything right, they simply belonged to Yahweh. There was a distinction made. Sadly, knowing they were set apart was not enough to keep them content in the wilderness. Instead a generation fell.

I wonder if the longing to be free ever went beyond idealism.  Instead of having a micromanaged life, they could choose. And in choosing they longed for the certainty that captivity had provided. I feel conviction as I write this, compelled to admit that I sacrifice freedom for certainty too.

I think about that small bag of belongings and my hope that Stephanie’s tot will know there is more. I wish she knew that her little bag held no assurance, that Jesus is enough. And I wish that took the ache and loneliness from her small heart. If it would make a difference, I’d put my hands on her cheeks and kneel and say “let it go sweetie, let it go.”

As I contemplate what might help, a holy hushed whisper asks me the same question, “What would it take for you to lay down your bags and just hold on to me?”

I am bereft and filled with an intense longing for that to be our reality, hers and mine.

Heather Allen spends most of her time caring for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.theknottedapron.blogspot.com/

Manna

By Heather Allen –

It is cold tonight.  I am curled up under a blanket with a book and cup of coffee in hand.  I wanted to read about Moses and Israel and have it stay on the page. I wanted to forget my cares, but that is not to be. Instead, I am entrenched in the desert with the Israelites. As their story weaves through mine, I cannot help wonder if staying in the desert longer than necessary is just something humans do?  Wasn’t it just this afternoon I was concocting a scheme that might help me feel more in control?  I would have been tempted to gather extra Manna with the Israelites. I might have even drawn up maps and offered help planning the route.  Whenever I am afraid, my natural response is to come up with a plan.  Moses’ response was to fall before God.  I think I need a new response.

It seems there are new beliefs built on the journey to the promised land.  God uses my situations to press me towards a decision. Do I count on Him or do I build my own safety net?  I cannot do both.  I either set my own course or I believe God.

Not so many years ago I encountered a situation that snuck up on me, sabotaging me.  I felt like someone had tossed me into a sea of garbage and left me there to try to swim alone if I had the will or strength.  I did not see it coming and as wave after wave crashed on my head I just stood watching, bewildered, mouth gaping. God – are you seeing this?  I am drowning in accusations.  I do not have the reserves to handle this.  After the torrent I only heard one thing.  So I obeyed. Somehow I did not throw-up as I quietly said, “I love you” in response.  I was met with a glare that shriveled my socks.  But I kept myself still, like a child determined to win a staring contest.  I came away with something that I could not forget, that was not washed away as I cried myself to sleep.  Protection does not always look like I think it should, but the wounds were not left gaping.  I was tended through the night.

I love the idea of being hidden in Christ. Of drawing near, and finding a place in His shelter.  I think about Him welcoming me into an inner sanctuary, a private dwelling where I am safe. The thought of Him wanting me to be there is what brings tears to my eyes. The Israelite’s day camp was overshadowed by a cloud, which provided shade from the blazing sun. At night a pillar of fire burned with heat and light. At any point the people could find physical proof that God was with them. He was covering them. There may not be a cloud or pillar of fire noticeably moving as I roam, but the same protection covers anyone who is numbered as His. Light dwells with Him.Yet He still wants me close. Nothing is hidden from Him.Yet He is the only secure place to hide. When all that can be shaken, is shaken, He remains.

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine” (Psalm 33:18 NIV).

Heather Allen spends most of her time carrying for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.thebloodknot.blogspot.com/

Walking in the Dark

By Heather Allen –

Tonight I read a rough draft my daughter is preparing for English class. I read the first paragraph and felt physical pain. So I quit reading and washed dishes. Determined, I went back to the computer, aching, as I read her thoughts about the different moves our family has made.

Our world was rocked hard four years ago. We stood on the brink of winter wondering what to do with life. We were where we wanted to be, where we believed God wanted us, doing what we loved doing. And then the bottom fell out. The verse that rang in my ears was Isaiah 50:10 (NIV), “When you walk in the dark and have no light, trust in the name of the Lord.” It was dark as I struggled to understand why God was allowing such chaos to befall our family.

We did not know where to go or what to do. So we waited. Nothing came. Nothing for months and months turned into three years. Out of the blue a job offer came that required another cross-country move. Our options seemed bleak. With uncertainty we packed our bare necessities and tried the situation for ten long months. And we realized there in our small rental that the call on our lives had not been revoked. So taking a leap, we did what we believe we were last told to do, ten years earlier. We made the move we either did not have the faith to make sooner, or had not seen as a clear option.

My daughter’s essay details her transient, vulnerable life. A life I never would have chosen for her. But then she writes how good God is, and that in the loneliness He is a friend like no other. I nod, mumbling to myself that this is better; her sweet heart knowing it can trust Jesus.

As the days grow shorter and darker, stacks of gifts are growing on my shelf.  My thoughts are turned towards celebrating Christ’s birth. In the ongoing days of trying to make new friends and acclimate to our surroundings, I meditate on a much larger move; the word becoming flesh and dwelling among us. On a night so many heartbreaks ago, God became man, Emmanuel. And every thing changed. My mind aches thinking of God living in the frail body of a man. Only God chooses vulnerability. We who lack strength, who are not glorious, see weakness and vulnerability as something to be hidden. Christ loved and allowed others to reject Him. But oh what He does for those who trust Him.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” Ezekiel 36:26 (NIV).

On that night so long ago a star announced His birth: a star, announcing the glory of its Creator. He came knowing He would be despised. But the sin growing in the garden had only one hope of redemption. So the Word became flesh. Before the manger He was the pillar of fire at night. He has always moved despite the instability of our flesh. On this dark night my heart rejoices in a God that intervenes and saves. My heart leaps knowing the darkness will soon be turned to day and the King will again dwell in Israel.

Heather Allen spends most of her time carrying for her hubby and 3 kids.  Check out her blog: http://www.thebloodknot.blogspot.com/