MY BLOG POSTS

We are moving at the end of this week. My husband and I are both going to be teaching at a Christian school in Largo, Fl. It’s close to Tampa (home for the past seven years), but far enough that we can’t commute.

We’ve moved before – halfway around the country and halfway around the world. This time, we’re just moving to the next county over. Should be a piece of cake, right? We don’t have to ship anything in a container across the Atlantic. We don’t have to wrap every little thing in bubble wrap so it can survive a thousand miles in a U-Haul. We don’t even have to take our clothes off the hangers.

As far as logistics go, this move is a piece of cake.

My heart, though, is a different story. In my heart, this move is just like the others: we are leaving a place we love, people we love, and everything that is comfortable and familiar. We have to move into a new house, go to a new school, join a new church, and make new friends. And though we know God orchestrated it all – He has made that very clear – it is still difficult.

I thought it quite ironic that my map to the new house said “This route requires tolls.” The first time I plugged in the address and saw that, I teared up a little. Those of you who have experienced a move know the toll it takes on you. Anytime you have to uproot and replant is hard. Especially when the place you’re leaving is a place you love.

So this week, we will put in practice something we learned from past moves: we will embrace the “tolls”. It does no good to pretend there is no cost, no pain in a move. But it does great good to admit that leaving is hard. It is important to say goodbye to special friends and special places, to revisit beautiful memories made.

Moving is hard. But for me, it is a reminder that this earth is not my home. I am an alien here, a wanderer. My home, my citizenship, is in heaven. Until I reach my eternal home, I will seek to honor God, to go through the doors He opens, to follow the paths He lays before me.

The “tolls” He requires are always for our good, to grow us and strengthen us and make us more like Him. And, though the journeys are sometimes painful, the “end of the story” is settled, and it is beautiful.

This week, I have been able to spend time with my sweet niece, Calla, and my brand-new nephew, Clark. I have loved getting to hold the tiny newborn, snuggling and sniffing and smothering him with Auntie Krista kisses.

I have also loved watching big sister Calla do the same thing. But she doesn’t stop there. She kneels down, gets in Clark’s face and tells him, “I love you so much. You’re the best brother ever. You are so cute. I just love you!” She kisses and hugs him and frames his tiny face with her hands and says it all over again. And when she prays, she thanks God for “the best brother EVER.” It is adorable.

Watching Calla lavish her brother with so much love makes me think of God’s love. All my life, I have struggled with fully grasping how much God loves me. I don’t have a problem knowing God is holy, that He is just, that He is good. But that this holy, just, good God loves ME? Really loves me?

I don’t feel worthy of that kind of love.

But as I watch Calla with Clark, I see a glimpse of the love God has for me. Clark can’t do anything for Calla. He can’t hug her back, yet. He can’t tell her he loves her. He can’t earn her love. But that doesn’t matter. Calla loves Clark simply because he is her brother. And she has loved him since she first found out he was growing in her mommy’s belly.

It is hard to grasp, but God looks at me – at you – like Calla looks at Clark. He loves me, even though I can’t do anything for Him. He loved me, even when I didn’t love Him back. He loves me because I am His. But unlike even the sweetest human love, God’s love is perfect. Complete.

When I remember that, when I live in light of that amazing love, I can release my stresses, my disappointments, my frustrations, and just bask in the deep, deep love of Jesus. I can join in Paul’s prayer that we all “grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.” (Ephesians 3:18b)

I love donuts. Chocolate glazed with chocolate icing is my favorite. Mmmm. I like sugar-covered cream-filled donuts, too. But if I were to eat only donuts every day…not only would I have to fill my closet with stretchy pants, but I’d also be miserable! I need proteins, vegetables, grains in my diet. I need solid good-for-me foods to stay healthy.

Sometimes, though, in our spiritual lives, we are content with “devotional donuts.” Instead of feasting on the solid meat of God’s amazing word, we maintain a steady diet of devotions that are light and tasty. They make us feel good – for a little while – but they are easily forgotten and they don’t really help us build the spiritual muscle needed to face life’s challenges.

I know — the Bible is tough. It is confusing. But I also know that students read tough, confusing works all the time. You have to. Your textbooks are tough and confusing. The literature books your English teacher makes you read are tough and confusing. And let’s not even talk about math! I still break out in hives every time I hear “quadratic equation.” But you read them, you study them, because you know it is important to master that material, to get good grades so you can get into a good college and (hopefully!) get a decent job.

So forget the excuses. Ignore them. And study God’s word. Really study it. Go to your local Christian bookstore and find a study that goes through a book of the bible or addresses a biblical topic. I prefer the ones with fill-in-the-blanks – they help me stay focused. There are many wonderful books like that. And they aren’t expensive — usually $15 or less. And the rewards are amazing. Your faith is strengthened, your love for God and for others is strengthened. And you begin to hunger for the “meat” of God’s word even more. Not that the occasional “devotional donut” isn’t still delicious. But your Christian life shouldn’t be filled with those. They are a treat, an appetizer, but not the main course.

So trade in your spiritual stretchy pants for some walking shoes! It is a decision you will never regret.

This week, on Monday, my baby sister had a beautiful baby boy: Clark Henry Scott. I have spent the last few days showing everyone around me his cute little picture and desperately waiting for my week of reading AP essays to end so I can drive over and hold this precious little guy.

Yesterday, I got a call that a sweet family friend lost her battle with cancer. I ache for her family. Barbara was a wonderful woman and she will be deeply missed.

Life and death.

Joy and pain.

Happiness and grief.

I wonder, as I offer praise for one and prayers for the other, how anyone can survive the radical ups and downs of this life without knowing Christ. He is the source of all good gifts, the giver of life. And he is the Rock we cling to when the storms of life threaten to drown us.

Knowing Christ doesn’t insulate us from life. Jesus himself said that we should expect difficulties. He modeled that for us – enduring temptation, persecution, and even death – an excruciating death that he did not deserve. This life isn’t easy, it isn’t perfect. We will experience pain. But this life is good, too. There are incredible joys, beauty all around us that we sometimes forget to see when circumstances weigh us down.

But the greatest joy I have – in both the happiness and the heartache – is knowing that this life is not our only life. In fact, compared to what is in store for us, this life is nothing – a vapor, a mist, dew on the grass. The greatest joys we can experience here pale in comparison to the joy that awaits us. And the greatest pain will be forgotten when we step out of these sin-trapped bodies into our eternal home.

So I will rejoice with those who rejoice, and I will weep with those who weep. I will live this life with the next life in mind. Because, as the beautiful old hymn teaches, “My hope is built on nothing less/than Jesus’ blood/ and righteousness.”