Jeremiah 31:31-34

If you've spent any amount of time at all in the church, you've likely heard the term Law vs. Grace, which is what this passage speaks of. Most of the Old Testament speaks of how God set up the law as His special covenant between His people and Himself.  So... why the change?  Why the need for a new covenant?  It certainly wasn't because the original Law and covenant was bad.  God didn't change it because He had to.  He could have decided to wipe out the entire fallen creation that He had made because we had hurt Him so grievously, and a few times (as with Noah and the Ark) He very nearly did.  But instead, in His love, God saw the frailty of man and His weakness and IN LOVE He made another way.  He saw how difficult it would be for us to keep His perfect law, so in love, He gave us Jesus to cover all our sins, even the ones we have yet to commit.  If held to the true standard of holiness, we would never measure up.  So He made a way in the wilderness.  (Isaiah 43)

We hear this a lot, and we do live now under grace, not the law.  But do we really believe it?  We say it, but so often it seems that we try to attribute a strict, works-based love onto God.  We try to do all kinds of good deeds as though this will somehow make us more worthy of God's love.  We try not to do bad things that might make God angry or ashamed and somehow love us less.  That's not how grace works.  Nothing good we can do will make God love us more, because He can't love us any more than He already does.  Nothing we can do will be so bad that He will love us less.  (which I certainly find encouraging!) We do try to please Him because it is the right thing to do (according to the law), but let us try to respond as God first did to us, with love being the first reason for doing anything.

Jesus Laughter

{Author's Note: As usual, I find that there is still a great deal of room for editing and revising in this short story.  But I laughed as the idea was coming to me in my car on the way home from the grocery store.  As often in my life as I write, only occasionally will I write a song or a story that feels different.  While some of the poetry and other things I write are technically good in a literary sense, its the few that don't come from me at all that feel the best.  Words that I cannot truthfully attribute to myself because... well, I don't write "fluffy stuff".  *sniff*  :) And yet... somehow the ones I might in some sense term "fluffy", that don't come from me at all, turn out the best...  Not that this is perfect yet, but the concept certainly wasn't mine.  The concept was beyond me, and therefore much better than anything I could think to write.  It does remind me a little of 'Footprints', a poem which I have loved since I was a child, but I did not mean at all to replicate it.  This just stands alone.  I will post some pictures to go with it later when I come back for editing.  And anyway... writing it made me smile.  Thank You, Father.  Your timing is perfect.}



One night, a troubled young women struggled to sleep.  Every mistake that she'd made in her life seemed to haunt her now when she needed rest the most, and every worry and shame that had collected in her years of living seemed to pour our into the writhing vessel of her mind.  When sleep finally came, she had a dream.

She opened her eyes and found herself in heaven.  All around her was soft, brilliant light that did not hurt to look at, yet there was no sun.  As she looked around to find the source of the light, she found a man standing next to her.  It was Jesus, and the sight of Him standing there, and even more than that the absolute delight in His eyes to see her, stole her breath away.  She did not know quite what to do.  No words would come, so she found herself sinking into a kneel.  With her eyes downcast, she could not see His smile, but she could feel it as He knelt down and took her hands.  "Come now beloved, rise.  I appreciate the praise, but we have things to talk about."

She rose as His hands gently lifted her and dared to look at His face.  Tears came freely as she realized that the love in His eyes was saying something just to her; He utterly cherished her.  He lifted a hand to wipe the tears away, then took her hand smiling.  "Come."  He invited.

He led her along a gold-paved street beside mansions and dwellings far more fabulous than she had ever imagined and she could only stare around her in awe.  He finally stopped at the gates of a courtyard to one mansion that seemed to be only half-made.  The gate itself was opened wide and as Jesus led her inside to the courtyard beyond, somehow she felt that this place seemed extremely familiar.  The opened gate held her eyes.  Jesus told her warmly,  "You let me in long ago.  And since then we've kept the door open wide."  Not too far away on one side of a grand set of marbled steps leading up, an angel gracefully swept away at what appeared to be ashes.  The ashes were the only dark thing to be seen.  As she wondered at this, she looked up at Jesus.  "What is this place?  Who does this mansion belong to?"

Jesus laughed.  Funny, all the times she had imagined Jesus smiling never once had she imagined the sound of his laugh.  The sound of it sang to her soul.  It sang of joy, but even more of freedom.  "Why beloved, don't you know?  This mansion belongs to you."

A thrill of excitement filled her at once, Though unfinished, the part of the structure that stood was more magnificent than anything she had yet seen.  As she looked around the courtyard, she saw a large, well-tended garden with many sparkling crystalline fountains, latticed arches adorned with roses, and many perfectly constructed statues carved out of pure gold, silver or pearl.  The part of the house that stood had many sparkling pillars and countless turrets and with silken flags of every brilliant color one could imagine.  The sweep of the angel's broom came to her ears and brought her back to that one unpleasant thought, and she looked back at the angel again who was sweeping the ashes.  She gasped.  Where the angel was sweeping, the shimmering shape of a statue had begun to appear.  The more the angel swept, the grander the statue grew and the darker were the ashes that lay at its feet seeming now as discarded shavings.  Jesus had been watching her closely.  "Jesus!"  She said in amazement.

"Yes."  He answered.  "I see."

"What do the ashes and the statue mean?"  She said in wonder.

"The ashes are your past.  As the old remnants of past hurt and despair are swept away, something beautiful is erected from within them."  This pronouncement should have been met with wonder, and at first it was.  But the smile then faded from her face and her eyes were downcast again.  "What is it that saddens you?"  He asked.

"Jesus,"  She sad sadly.  "It hasn't felt lately as though the past has gone away.  The hurt seems to stay with me.   The consequences of my sins from long ago... they seem to follow me with every step and weigh on me so heavily that I can barely breathe."  Jesus said nothing, but listened quietly.  The young woman found that they were sitting on plush cushions now one of the many marble benches in the garden, but now that she had begun speaking with Jesus directly, nothing else seemed to matter except that her thoughts and hurts be poured out to Him.

"I've made so many mistakes in my life."  She said.  "And while I know You've forgiven me, still it seems that the consequences won't let me go.  I feel like I've failed so many people, disappointed so many that I love.  You've given me Godly friends whom I cherish, and they are there for me Lord when I need them, they bless me with so many things.  But I feel that I have nothing left to give them in return.  As others now make my life brighter, I feel as though nothing I have done has made things better for them.  And even though You've saved me, my sins are still so many."  She began to cry again.

Jesus held her hand and allowed her to cry for a while, then finally rose and drew her up with Him.  "Come."  He said very gently.  "See what else I have prepared for you."

He led her into the main entryway of the mansion, then to a ballroom nearby where a marble floor was being laid by many cheerful workers.  "See."  Jesus invited.  "See the sparkle glowing deeply in the marble's polish, the way it reflects My light, the way it reflects the grandness all around us."

"Yes."  She agreed.  "Its unfinished, but still beautiful."  She said, wondering faintly why he had not responded to her words in the garden.

"Unfinished, but beautiful."  He smiled at her in such a loving and knowing way that her lingering tears immediately dried up.  "This floor beloved, began being laid when you lost your job just the other day."

Her brow furrowed in confusion.  "When I lost my job.  But I feel such a failure for that.  Why is there a thing of beauty for something I've lost?"

"It is being laid for tomorrow, when you will trust me anyway despite the uncertainty.  And for the next opportunity that I send your way because of your continued faith.  Of such, beloved, are your treasures here made."

He led her on pointing out other beautiful items, masterwork tapestries and paintings, statuary and glistening things that were half-begun and relating them to her life.  They entered what seemed to be a trophy room.  The plaques on the wall glistened like many-colored stars and she saw things written on them like, 'Cried for the homeless man you saw along the highway.'  'Prayed for the boy that was mean to you at school.'  'Forgave your mother for neglecting you.'  'Rejoiced at seeing a friend come to Me.'  'Kept trying even when you failed.'  Many, many places there were plaques that read simply,  'Loved as I have loved.'  "You have a great capacity for that one."  Jesus said when He saw her counting these.

He gestured for her to look at a glass display case set against the wall.  "Look."  He said.  She did as He bid and inside the velvet-lined case she saw crystal casks filled with the most pure and perfect gems she had ever seen.  And beside each one was the name of one of her friends.  "You feel as though you cannot give anything back to the friends that love you in My name.  These treasures I will give to them in your name.  I store them here.  They will soon receive them for loving you as I do."  Understanding flooded her eyes along with happy tears as she looked up at him in joy.  "All of this that you see is but a taste."

As they continued to look around the half-finished mansion, a thought occurred to her and she asked, "Lord, on the plaques in the trophy room.  I didn't see any that mentioned the time I helped at the food pantry, or sang at church, or baby-sat my friends children.  Weren't those good things?"

"Yes."  He answered.  "They were good deeds.  But the deeds themselves don't make much difference here."  The continued walking and as they did, she thought of her life, of all of the things she felt she had messed up, all the struggles, all the confusion, the pain, the frustration she felt for herself when she messed up, for not being able to serve as fully and often as she felt she should.  She thought of all of her failings and all the little things that kept her up at night worrying, She thought how infinitely small it all was compared to this.  And how those things seemed to disappear entirely with Jesus there walking beside her.  It was impossible to despair with him there.

The two of them walked out into the garden together and to her the light seemed to have melted into all of the vivid, but lovely colors of sunset.  He turned to her one last time now a silhouette against a lavender sky.  "You see beloved, it's not what you do that matters.  Because there's nothing wrong that you do that I have not already covered, and nothing right you do that can earn you more of my love."  The image of Jesus and heaven began to rapidly fade, though His voice did not.  The dream was nearly gone from her sight as His voice carried after her.  "Despite every hurt along the journey, what matters is how you follow...."

Abstract

Abstract world

Not part of body, but of mind

Endless thoughts that are so unkind

A little mind with thoughts too grand

To sort out or to understand

What good the theory or the shame?

Conjecture sours when faced with pain

With broken smile I face the rain

Persistent storm without a name

With open arms I greet its flood

Its waters thicker than my blood

Resolved to meet determined fate

Am I early, am I late?

Surrendered now, or just resigned?

It won't hold back the hands of time

Love was grand in infancy

But left a broken heart is misery

With its raw, consuming power

Its brittle walls become a crumbling tower

Betrayed its friend to the enemy

Till ruin is all that's left of me

Perhaps a day, perhaps infinity

I'm too weary now to care to see

Where the war has left its charge

Too few victories, too many battle scars