Simple joys.

O ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.
(Henry Francis Lyte)

Driving to Visalia and back

One month ago: My friend, Steph, and I joked about meeting halfway between San Jose and Fullerton.

Three weeks ago: We gave it more serious consideration.

Two weeks ago: We decided to do it.

A week and a half ago: Done.

A couple Saturdays ago, we each left our homes around 6:45 AM.  Three hours and about a hundred dead bugs on my windshield later, we met at the midpoint (Visalia, CA) at one of our favorite conversation spots:

(I took this picture on my phone as I arrived — haha.)

It was totally worth the trip to see her and catch up face-to-face.  Who knows, it could happen again.  :]

Walks with Mom and the pups

My mom and I have started to take evening walks a couple times a week, mostly on the weekends.  I’ll put a leash on one of our dogs, Choco, and only put a collar on our other dog, Atom.  (Choco gets lost, so we need to keep her near, but Atom can find his way home from just about anywhere, so we let him loose.)

Atom will race ahead of us and sniff around and wait for us when he’s half a block ahead.  When we catch up to him, he’ll race ahead again.  And we just shake our heads and laugh.  Silly pup.  Love my mom.

Joy.

“Joy is a sweet attitude in response to God’s sovereignty. Joy says, I’m going to let my disposition be rooted in truth that’s in heaven and in the word of God, not necessarily in what’s happening around me.  Joy is not always a feeling.  Sometimes, joy is a confidence.  Sometimes, joy is a persuasion.“
(Rick Holland)

Joy remembers who God is.  Joy remembers that He is sovereign over nature, over circumstances in our lives, over the duration of circumstances in our lives, and even over the king’s heart.  And joy is the cheerful submission to His sovereignty.  Joy is the sweetness of spirit that bows before His sometimes heavy hand.

Joy remembers that God’s Word stands (and sustains) even when everything else may fall and be destroyed.

And though it is heartfelt, joy is not merely an emotion.  An emotion can be a response, but a response does not always have to be an emotion.  Joy isn’t limited to the bounds of feeling.  Joy is not elusive; it is kept by truth.

Joy is the belief and deep-seated conviction that God is sovereign, that God is good, and that God is Abba.  Joy is confidence in Him, being persuaded that He is able and willing and delighting to do what He promised.  Joy is the confident response to the character of God.

He’s good to give us Himself as the anchor to our joy — immutable, eternal, holy.

A sweet surrender.

Lord, here I hold within my trembling hand,
This will of mine — a thing which seemeth small;
And only Thou, O Christ, canst understand
How, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all.
It hath been wet with tears and stained with sighs,
Clenched in my grasp till beauty hath it none;
Now, from Thy footstool where it prostrate lies
The prayer ascendeth: “Let Thy will be done.”
(D. M. M’Intyre)

Expectation.

From Bruchko, an autobiography of a missionary to the Motilone Indians:

Bobby [one of the Motilone Indians] and I worked on the translation of Philippians.  It was one of the most intense, most wonderful times of translation we had ever had together.

As we worked through the first chapter, we came to verse twenty where Paul says that his great expectation is that he will not be put to shame, but that Christ will be exalted in him whether in life or death.

I needed the right word for expectation.  A Motilone expects to go to bed at night, but that word doesn’t have much force.

The center of emotion for a Motilone is his stomach.  To have a full stomach is to have a happy heart.  What was the surest way of having a full stomach?  Probably to have hunted and killed a large tapir.  You eat tapir until you can’t eat any more.

So I took the verb for having a tapir in your possession, and I invented a new tense: I put it in a future tense that has already been completed, then I made it superlative.

I gave Bobby the word.  It shocked him.  “No,” he said, “that’s too big a word.  It’s too forceful.  How can you expect something as much as that?”

“All right,” I said.

He was quiet for a while, thinking, then said, “Bruchko, is Jesus Christ that expectation for you in your life?  Really?”

That stopped me short.  It’s one thing to figure out the right word to use, it’s quite another thing to be asked if it’s true of your own life. I thought of my conversion, and of some of the crises I had weathered with Yukos and the Motilones.  Finally, after a long silence, I said, “Yes.”

Then I nodded vigorously.  “Yes, Bobby.  With all my strength and all my will I want to give myself to the expectation of Jesus Christ.”

Bobby looked down at his feet.  “Yes,” he said.  “It’s a good word.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

He nodded.

Lessons in trust.

Her Father: Do you trust Me?

Her: Yes.

Her Father: Do you trust Me with the uncertainties?  With what you do not know?

Her: Yes.

Her Father: Do you trust Me with the certainties?  With what you do know?

Her: Ye–what do You mean?

Her Father: The things that have thus far been certainties your whole life long–the ongoing struggles, the past, the hearts of those dearest to you, the same prayer prayed for years without answer–do you trust Me in these things, too?

Her: I …

Her Father: When the certainties in your life cause you to cry out again and again, “How long…?”  And when it seems that I am neither hearing nor answering, do you yet trust Me?

Her: …

Her Father: Child, don’t fear or despair.  I formed you and made your heart so that knowledge must precede trust.  So I will teach you to know Me more.  Then you will also learn to trust Me more.

Matthew 5:4 is because of Jesus.

You who are mourning by reason of inbred sin and depravity, remember, none of your sins can condemn you. You have learned to hate sin; but you have also learned how that sin is not yours–it was laid upon Christ’s head. Your standing is not in yourself–it is in Christ. Your acceptance is not in yourself, but in your Lord; you are just as accepted by God today, with all your sinfulness, as you will be when you stand before His throne, free from all corruption.

(by C.H. Spurgeon, revised and updated by Alistair Begg)

2nd period.

I was looking through some of my teaching stuff from last year, and I started cracking up because I remembered my second period class asked me to name my first child “Second Period” so that I’d never forget them.  They were crazy, but I loved them (for it).

One of the seniors wrote the poem below and then read it to the class on the last day.  Catch a glimpse of some majorly undeserved love:

Ms. Han

I walked into school in a midsummer morning
Into a place & time where I will start my story…

You introduced yourself, made friendly gestures
You looked nice enough, not very tough
You sat behind the teacher’s desk
Listening & learning as if studying for a test

Skip several weeks ahead
You announce that something must be said
You’re going to be our new teacher
I was a bit skeptical at first
But soon my doubts turned into thirst
For the knowledge that you taught us
To allow me to speak my mind & not let it be hushed

I appreciate the things you’ve done
I appreciate the fact you made English fun
I appreciate the hours you sacrificed you know
To teach us about Wife of Bath, poems, & Quiz Show

It’s sad to see you go away
Hopefully we’ll see you again someday
I know you’ll be a great teacher in your career
Because you hold something everyone finds dear
Love, compassion, & a kind heart
You’re such a great person, I could write you a song
But until then, we’ll miss you Ms. Han

None save Christ.

(A narrative.)

Her knees were pressed against her chest, and she was crying — her tears splashing on the unswept brick floor.  The hands wiping away the tears were coarse from years of hard labor.  The single deep crease between her brows told of years of unspoken suffering.

When she saw me, she quickly got up, and as she did, the shuffling of her feet drew my eyes to her house slippers.  They were smudged with cinder.  The soles were peeling apart, and empty metal prongs gaped back at me, telling of cheap gems lost in wear and tear.

By her feet was a browning, crumpled sheet of paper.  She would never tell me, but I already knew what was on it.

She had inquired all over town and failed to find what she was looking for.

What could I do for her?  I was her granddaughter.  I knew no trade.  I had no expertise, no knowledge.

None save Christ.

But I was told that is enough …

Grace, God’s method.

Penance and retribution do not transform.  The flagellation of self or the flagellation of another, whether literally or figuratively, do not transform.  Severity does not change the heart.

Grace does.

Grace — kindness undeserved, favor unmerited — transforms.  This is God’s method.

What’s ours?