50 Questions for My Future Husband

When I was a young teen, it was popular in my circle of friends to write lists of characteristics we hoped for in a husband someday. Some of our criteria was reasonable, much of it silly. After that time, I began to greatly dislike writing such lists, and I threw all mine away. I didn't like the "grocery shopping" feeling that list-writing gave me. I had experienced the uncomfortable feeling of being likened to a piece of feminine merchandise, up on the shelf next to all the other pretty church girls, so perhaps my intense dislike for petty checklists was more reactionary than it should have been. Even so, I threw out all lists, criteria, and qualifications, and thought no more about it for several years.

In the last year, I realized the practicality of having some clearly defined criteria of what things can or cannot be negotiated when finding a mate. This new appreciation came chiefly out of my dismay as I saw some friends of mine fall for and marry men that were, to put it nicely, losers. These were scrupulous, Christian girls who thought they would be strong and sensible, but had failed to plan ahead and as a result, made the biggest error of their lives.

I'm still not a fan of lists. I hate putting people into a box. I've never liked applications or surveys. But, after many weeks of thinking, praying, and revising, I came up with a list that contained only six simple, non-negotiable items, and two negotiable ones. I'm not posting it here for obvious reasons; it is customized to who I am and what things I value most in this life. It is a list meant to flag non-compatibility in life's biggest issues right from the get-go, thus averting future disaster.

Along the same line, I began thinking about what questions I would want to have answered from my future husband. Here is a list of 50 questions I came up with. I realize many are sober in nature, but wouldn't it be awful to commit your life to someone with some of these things unanswered? There are also some glaring omissions that one might consider essential--questions about salvation, etc. Those fundamental issues are covered in my first list, so are not repeated here. Write your own list of questions that would weigh on your heart until answered. I may not ever use these, but the writing of them helped me shape in my heart and mind the issues that are most important to me as I consider the rest of my life spent in service to the Lord, fully aware that the choices I make in life's biggest arenas will determine a future of either delight or disaster.

50 Questions for My Future Husband

1) If I developed a debilitating mental illness (example: schizophrenia) and became a threat to you or our children, what would you do?

2) If I was in an unresponsive coma, most likely for life, what would you do?

3) Under what circumstances would you seek to divorce me?

4) If I was unable to have children, how would you feel? What would you do?

5) If I died suddenly, what are your plans for taking care of yourself and raising our children? Would you consider remarrying?

6) What do you believe about spanking?

7) If another person was making inappropriate or flirtatious advances on me, how would you want me to go about including you and ending it?

8) What are your expectations for me to keep healthy and beautiful for you, even as my body changes with childbearing? (Weight gain/loss, stretch marks, etc)

9) How important is it to you that I wear makeup, style my hair, and dress attractively?

10) How do you feel about adoption, raising children of different ethnicities, and interracial marriage?

11) If I became disfigured through illness or injury, how would you feel and what would you do?

12) Because of my work history in the medical field, how would you feel if I was ever included in a court case or lawsuit, even years from now?

13) How would we handle the death of one of our children?

14) How will you keep yourself guarded from pornography and other sexual sins, and hold yourself accountable to me (and anyone else)?

15) How important is it to you to pray for your spouse? To pray with your spouse?

16) How important is it to you that we regularly do fun things together that we both enjoy?

17) How do you plan to fulfill your role as provider without sacrificing important time spent with your wife and family?

18) How interested or receptive will you be to making any lifestyle or dietary changes in an effort to make ourselves healthier?

19) What constitutes a “major purchase,” and at what amount of money should both spouses be consulted before a purchase is made?

20) What are your views on credit cards? How do you feel about debt? How much debt are you willing to carry, and for what reasons?

21) What are your views on contraception? Under what circumstances would you consider preventing conception for a time?

22) How important is it to you to have money to spend on your hobbies and interests?

23) How important is it to you that I keep a clean, organized home?

24) Under what circumstances would you be willing to be apart from me and our children for an extended period of time (mission trip, etc.)?

25) How do you plan to implement spiritual leadership in our home, and what can I do to help set up a family discipleship plan that works for us?

26) What do you think about spouses having separate email or social networking accounts?

27) When was a time I’ve ever embarrassed you by my speech, dress, behavior, or other conduct?

28) Have I ever made you feel uncomfortable by how I interact with other men?

29) How should we manage holidays and birthdays with both sides of our family?

30) What is the thing that I might do that would hurt or damage you the most?

31) What kind of secret is justified in being withheld from a spouse?

32) What should I do if I think you’re irritated or angry at something I’ve said or done?

33) How should we use and manage electronic devices and media consumption in our home?

34) How are we going to manage the internet in our home?

35) What will we do if you and I hold differing viewpoints on some Bible doctrines?

36) What would make me unattractive or undesirable to you?

37) What will we do for our parents in their older years when they need care and can no longer live alone?

38) What would you change about me, if you could?

39) What attracted you to me the most?

40) What are you most afraid of?

41) How do you feel about displays of physical affection in public? How much is too much?

42) How do you feel about women speaking up and contributing in church?

43) How would we help if one of our siblings fell on hard financial times?

44) What makes you angry?

45) What gives you the most joy?

46) How do you plan to be involved in the home-schooling of our children?

47) How do you feel about the use of slang, popular catch-phrases, sarcasm, and other irreverent or casual speech in our home?

48) What are your thoughts on owning pets or livestock?

49) How do you understand your role in carrying out the Great Commission with your God-given gifts and 

personality? 

50) What is your love language (the best way for me to communicate my love for you)?

Alone in the Desert

My sister once told me that when she speaks to God, she envisions herself in the middle of a vast, barren desert. Sand and sky as far as the eye can see. Maybe a burning, holy wind. But no sounds. Nowhere to run. No cover from the blinding sun. It is just her, alone in the desert with the Most High.

That was the most profound image I took out of my childhood, and I think about it almost every day. I, too, have come to see the meeting of God-and-human as occurring in a desert. When I was young, the only deserts I had seen were in picture books, so I  began to create my own desert meeting-place in my mind. It was wide and welcoming, unknown but not unkind. It bore His stamp of dominion, and I was always safe there. Since then, I have seen real deserts. They are wild, unsettling. There is an ancient lava flow not far from my cottage. Jagged rivers of hardened magma glitter and dare onlookers to try crossing. No one does. The rocks are too sharp, the terrain too fierce, the risks too great. So they stand back and take pictures.

A desert is a place in which it is good--no, essential--to have a faithful companion upon whom to depend for survival. Someone who knows that there is a shaded cleft here, a hidden spring there, and a clump of edible herbs just beyond. Someone who packed provisions, who shares. Someone who knew it would be so cold at night, and brought shelter. Someone who stays awake to keep harm at bay.

I have read many (nearly all) of the western stories by the great storyteller Louis L'Amour. Some of his tales were placed within a few miles of where I am living. He knew the harshness of the desert, how it swallows, hides, and never gives back. But he also saw its haunting beauty, and he loved it.

Perhaps the imaginary desert of my childhood,  that secret place where I met God, was a kind of metaphor for His attributes which I could not identify, yet I sensed their presence and shape. It was vast; He is infinite. It was strange and unknown; He is mystery. It was safe and welcoming; He is a haven of rest. It was also fierce and relentless; He is righteous and reigns on high. I was helpless and needy there; He is near to all who call upon Him. It was hot and blinding; He is holy and pure. There are more parallels than there is time to list.

Perhaps I am not so wise after all these years. I still meet Him there, in the desert that exists only in my soul, and it seems little has changed. I am still utterly dependent on Him. My sinful self is still loathe to enter into that bright, searing heat and feel the burn of His righteous gaze. I am still alone in the desert with the Most High.

May it ever be so.

The Blog Post About Women and Clothes

From tonight's email to my lovely girls:

Today my mind and heart have really been returning to a concept I want to talk about for a few moments: modesty and the godly woman's clothing. The thought didn't really spring from any one recent event or Scripture passage, but it has been weighing on my heart, and I'd like to speak both practically and spiritually with you today.

Believe me, the feminine closet is an ever-present responsibility. So many factors to consider! Such a delicate balance to be found between equally unlovely opposite sides of the spectrum. What a lot of maintenance--because for the woman who loves her Savior and strives to honor his name in every area of her life, the wardrobe is an especially challenging project to tackle. But it must be given careful thought, for just as in any other aspect, carelessness or a headstrong "I'll-do-it-my-way" attitude is not indicative of complete submission to the Holy Spirit.

First, let me say that for us, maintaining a God-honoring closet requires a lot of prayer. That sounds silly, doesn't it? What kind of nutcase prays about what to wear?

Well, I do. Here's why.

#1: God made women beautiful. Everything about the feminine character, from her physical design to the varied blends of personality, temperament, style, mannerisms, voice, mind and articulation, etc. etc. were designed by God and crafted all together in one creature called a woman, to be the helper to his first creation, man, and to glorify the name of the Lord by gracing his creation with femininity.

 #2: God is honored when women cultivate and nourish their womanliness, and purposefully blossom into creatures of grace, gentleness, beauty, intelligence, and helpfulness. I like to think of this metamorphosis as stemming from a spiritual "core," which is simply 100% devoted to loving Jesus Christ and serving him first of all. Then, as the Spirit works his sanctification in you, outward manifestations become evident of this inward change--including changes in how you speak, dress, move, act and react in response to the world around you. You blossom into a wholly feminine woman.

#3: Even Adam in a perfect world full of marvelous creatures was incomplete, and when he saw Eve, he knew he'd been given what no other creature in the world could be--a soulmate and companion, a helper, a wife (Genesis 2:18-25).

And, because women are innately desirable to men (and men to women, for that matter--but that is another conversation for another day), and because we live in a terribly fallen world that is deformed by sin that twists and mars this beautiful attraction, we sometimes forget what it was meant to be and we look to the sin-seeped culture, observing its counterfeits, and because we are weak, we succumb and do the same--sometimes even unintentionally, that's how ingrained we can become in the ways of the flesh. Little things slip in here and there, and bit by bit our wholesome feminine essence is chipped away and sold out for something that is not only cheap and fake, it is wrong and it dishonors God, and it is a very serious offense. That's why we have to talk about this, no matter what your current feelings are --awkward, eye-rolling, worried, open--whatever. You need to consider these things if you never have before, and if you've heard them a hundred times, you still need to hear them again, and then we all need to open our closet doors and get on our knees before God.

Feminine modesty is not an inconsequential matter. If the devil can get you to believe so, he'll have you--a "good Christian girl"--as a spectacular tool in his claws to make great men fall and wreak havoc in the kingdom of God. Do not go down so easy, dear ones.

I'm not going to talk to you about "respecting yourself." I'm not even going to talk to you about how precious, cherished, and valuable women are in God's eyes--this is true, but tonight I'm talking about what goes on your mind, in your heart, that makes you select the things to wear that you do. What are your motives? Don't bypass your heart's motives and be confused by the many lesser-important things that come into play--for example, I like clothes reminiscent of hippie/bohemian/earthy/old world romanticism, and I (almost) despise business attire. Not because one is better than the other, but because I simply like one more and the other less, in conjunction with my personality. Other factors that necessarily contribute to the clothing you choose will be the work and play that occupies your time, the socioeconomic class and geographical area in which you live, the season of the year, whether the event is formal or casual, etc. But none of these things has the power to be modest and God-honoring--or otherwise--without your heart's direction and motivation.

Let's not get bogged down with skirt-length regulations, T-shirt circumference rules, or earring length gauges. Here's the crux of the matter: if you love Jesus, really really love him, and you've been saved by the grace of God through his Son Jesus, if you're walking on the road that is narrow and scorned by many, looking neither to the left nor to the right, if you have tasted of the love of God, then you will love the people in the world around you (including men) with the love that God bestowed on you who were unworthy--this love is the love of a sister for her brothers, a daughter for her father, a mother for her son, a wife for her husband--a love that helps, upholds, encourages, eases burdens and assists them in their wearisome battles. I am a sister to four brothers; many of you are sisters to brothers as well, and if you haven't a brother, I bet there is either a dad or a cousin or a nephew-- all of whom you won't be marrying, but whom you still love fiercely. A sister's love is angry when foolish girls tempt her brothers, even subtly. You need to be the girl who is loving these men, praying for them, and helping to shovel rocks out of the path, not standing there throwing more in their way.

In my mind, I see the faces and know the names of girls who go to youth group, go to church, occasionally post something Bible-ish on Facebook, but persistently cause their brothers in the Lord to stumble because they refuse to love those men with a selfless love that cares more for others than for oneself. They have their reward now, dear girls--the silly attention of foolish boys (see Proverbs 7) and the jealous half-friendships of equally trite girls. But, oh, my dear little sisters--do not be deceived--they will each give account for these things. You and I will stand before God and give an account as well. I have no desire to explain for years of egocentric living, wearing whatever garners immediate attention, regardless of the long-term consequences of wrecking other people's hearts and minds, do you?

But I'm telling you, sweet ones, it won't be easy. No way. It's hard to be quiet and modest, because you will be overlooked, ignored, misunderstood, and all manner of other unpleasant things. It's hard because your biggest battles aren't from the outside, they're waged from within between our carnal nature and our new nature in Christ! It's hard because you will want the attention those other flashy girls get, you'll feel unlovely and not beautiful at times, and besides all of that, it will be inconvenient and a lot of work. These are all things the devil will gladly point out to you in hopes of getting you to give up on the mission altogether, in order to concentrate on "more important" aspects of your Christian life. He might suggest that you go on a mission trip or volunteer someplace doing something benevolent, anything to pacify your conscience and keep you wearing the clothes that are hurting God's up-and-coming men who are currently making the devil nervous. You'd be the perfect, subtle thing to trip them up and keep them from doing anything really worthwhile. Then you can all limp along in carnal Christianity, totally crippled spiritually and accomplishing nothing for the kingdom. Perfect.

I know, I know--this letter's getting long. You get the point. It's serious stuff here, girls. I'm not trying to be a killjoy--honestly! I love putting together outfits and accessories as much as any girl. It's so fun to find just the perfect thing. That's all fine and good, but please, please think about what you're wearing, who you're wearing it for, and why you picked this item over that one--examine what's going on way down there in those reeeally hidden places of your heart. Perhaps all is not as it seems, and some serious prayer and wardrobe re-vamping are in order.

It may sound simple or cliched, but seriously, if Jesus Christ, your Lord and Savior whom you love and adore, saw you in everything you wear, walked with you, sat with you, and saw you in action--would he rejoice or would he be grieved? And by the way, no need to imagine if he were by your side . . . he already is.

All my love,
~Brenna

. . . Coram Deo . . .
"Living before the face of God"

Living in Limbo

I had to stay home last weekend while my family went to a conference about homeschooling and family discipleship. I wanted to go, but alas, a major, 160 question, nerve-wracking exit nursing examination was scheduled smack in the middle of it, so I couldn't go. They came home on Sunday, beaming. Inspired. Renewed. Excited. And with bag-fulls of new books and audio lectures.

They came home filled with hope to see that there are still people left in the world who love the LORD their God with all of their hearts, souls, and minds, and teach their children to love His law as well. It was good that they went.

I, however, have been in a bit of a rut. Perhaps "stalemate" would be a better word. Not afraid, not discouraged, not frustrated--I can't pinpoint it. Worn out? Burned out? Wishing the future would hurry up and pan out so I could see how things will settle? Needing more sleep? Or, all of the above.

I want to plant a garden. But, should I bother if I won't be here to tend it? The two sheep need to be sheared. Where will I store the wool if this isn't the year I can learn to spin? I have too many horses. Which ones should I sell before I move in a mere ten weeks? Who will want them anyway? When will I find time to trim the goats' hooves? And, the "check engine" light came on in my car and it started rattling. And, we have to squeeze in a post-graduation barbecue somewhere in the 24 hours before two of our guys head to Alaska for a commercial fishing season. So much to do. Plans are a-whirling. Everything's jumbled up.

In the midst of the hum, I hear, "Be still." And know that I am God.

Yes, yes. I will. I have forgotten to be still. I have forgotten to cultivate contented joy with the flurry of each day, learning to live in this limbo land of not-quite-jelled plans. They will become clear in time, in His time, when it is right to reveal them to me. It is hard to be still when pulled in a thousand directions, hard to dim the buzzing world out and think about Him. Talk to Him. Ponder what He says. Tune for His pull on the heart.

And be still.

Winds of Change

Since my last blog post, I have indeed been accepted at the three-and-a-half-hour away little hospital, and if all goes as planned, I will start a few weeks after graduation, as soon as I've obtained my RN license. I mustn't complain--how good and gracious of the Lord to provide me with a job so soon! And not too far away; I can still come home often enough. Some folks are looking across the country for work. I am grateful. Really.

But I am a little afraid. Humans weren't designed to live alone, least of all women, and least of those, young women. How will I be safe? Will there be a good church? Who will be my new friends and influences? How can I let go of everything I love here? It's icy there in the winter--will my car be able to handle it? What if I get mugged leaving a noc shift? This is, of course, the point where some begin to snicker at me, and as one lady made all too plain by her scissor-snipping hand motions and a tawdry joke, I am apparently far too attached and dependent on the people I love. "Time to cut the apron strings, sweetie."

Nonsense. I have deliberately rejected that senseless, thoughtless custom of our deluded culture: that kicking-them-out-of-the-nest at eighteen, out-of-their-parents'-hair-and-into-the-world-alone ideology that is hopelessly flawed when examined against Scripture. I've seen it fail--miserably so--and have no desire to become a lonely, selfish, unhelpful person, who is not accountable to anyone for anything and has no good reason to do anything other than whatever I darn well please whenever I have the fancy to do it. Such begins the spiraling descent into apathy, sin, folly, and a host of other spiritual maladies. Granted, I'm not eighteen anymore. "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven."

I desire to be a useful woman, integrated into a community of people, relied upon, held accountable for my life and my choices, needed, remembered, cared for, not forgotten, watched out for, missed, loved . . . everything that I have here in my home, my family, my church and my small-town community. And yet, He leads me away from it all, and I trust Him, but there is mingled with it a dose of fear.

I had, of course, always planned on leaving home someday. But I hadn't envisioned it quite like this--to a place where I know not one soul, by myself. Other people do it all the time, but the pure commonality of it hardly qualifies it as the best scenario--unless it is God who ordains such a situation to be mine to live, for this time.

So, like the boy Samuel, I wake in the night, surrounded by the comforts of a familiar life, but I sense a change in the air. And, not knowing for certain what it is, I can only speak the same words as he: "Speak, LORD, for your servant hears."

Standing in the Sun

Today was one of those quintessentially spring-ish days. Every year I fall in love with spring more and more, and it is a bit of a sorrow to me that the last five years--including this one--have found me mired in school work and unable to run outside, fling open my arms to the sun, smell the damp dirt and kiss my little goats' furry faces at every chance. But, in a way, the obligatory leash of The Nursing Program (yes, capitalized) has made me behold with a fresh wonder the glory of this time of year, particularly today, as I strain against the cord of annotated bibliography assignments. I lean out my second story window, take out the screen, and close my eyes as the bamboo wind chimes sing in the garden and the shaggy orchard grass glows in the last slanting rays of the sun. And I think, in this life, this quick, spinning, brief life, what more could there be than to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God? (Micah 6:8)

I woke up this morning from a deep, good, sweet sleep, and I awoke with the startling realization that my life is magnificently blessed. Who am I to be the receiver of a life so charmed? My parents are still married, and actually love each other (29 years and counting!). My one sister (of whom I am jealously protective) is six years into one of the most blessed marriages I've had the privilege of watching. My four younger brothers (whom I love with dreadful fierceness) are rising up, growing into the kinds of men who cast off the shabby farce of weak-minded manhood, instead asking hard questions and seeking true answers--a search that is changing them from boys to warriors before my eyes. My niece (2 years old) and nephew (4 weeks old) thrive and grow in a pure, earnest home with a mama and a papa who fear God and love his commandments.

And then there is me.

Somewhere in the middle of this bustling mini-universe that is our family, there is a 22 year old woman standing in the light of the Son, and it blinds me sometimes, when I turn my face into His glory. I'm walking, as we all are walking, and I see the junction just ahead. It's fast approaching, and when I get there, this road ends where a thousand others begin, and I'll have to pick one or stand forever on the sidewalk, watching the traffic rush by. But, it's so hard to choose. In two months I'll be done with nursing school. The pursuit that ate up the end of my teen years and launched me solidly into my twenties, forever out of childhood and into adulthood, will be over, and I'll have to move on--maybe literally.

You see, in my hometown, which is rather small and out-of-the-way, there aren't many (if any) jobs for new nurses. Quite frankly, it's just a bad time to be graduating from nursing school. Five years ago would have been a lot better. Five years from now it may be again--but I'm in the slump years, and I know it was meant to be so. I know He has not forgotten me. I know the joy of the LORD is my strength, and that I am doing this not for a good job or a paycheck or to impress anybody by having the "RN" letters behind my name, but I am doing this so that I may be of greater service to my Lord, wherever and whenever and however He should choose to use me. And if he never uses this profession, this skill set that is "nursing" which I have learned (though the thought is hard to swallow at the moment), I will not insist on using it. If He closes every door that I have knocked upon, I know it is because He knows better than I. Doors have already closed to me; even this afternoon I could scratch out another possibility on my list of hopefuls. And, for the first time, there is the possibility that I might have to leave all that I love and move away to find a job as a nurse, which brings me to some serious introspection: is it worth it? What is the point of what I'm doing? How much will I shell out in the name of Nursing? And, more importantly, it drives me into the Living Word to see what God is telling me to do, especially when each plan and sub-plan of mine are gently and firmly shut down.

But here is something surprising: as much as I hope for such-and-such opportunity to work out, and as much as I pursue it diligently, fill out the necessary applications and present myself as best I can, I have found an abiding equilibrium in knowing that it is He who ordains the future, and it is He who will orchestrate my life into a pleasing symphony of praise. When I get the letter, or answer the phone and receive the message of rejection (and I have, several times), it gets easier with each one--which is ironic, considering that rejection is generally depressing. But I am standing in the sun today; it warms and cheers my body, and I stand in the Son every day; He warms and cheers my soul. Being rejected has become almost exciting; I get to say, "Well, that wasn't it, was it, Lord?" And I smile, both in trust and bewilderment.

In the meantime, not knowing what the remaining year holds, and not even knowing where I will be in eight weeks, I'm surprised by His peace that allows me to notice and delight in the piano's muted arpeggios as the boys practice their music downstairs, the winter pear tree by the garden gate that just burst into a snowy froth of blossoms, and the delectable smell of the waffles some good soul is making for dinner. All is well when one walks humbly, trustingly, and quietly before the LORD of heaven and earth.

This, This is Why

More thoughts for my girls, from my Bible reading this evening.

Tonight, I'm reading from Matthew 26 through Mark 2.

The end of Matthew chronicles the unjust trial, condemnation, persecution, crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. It's a powerful story, even more so this time of year, with Easter only a couple of weeks away. There is so much I could say; I don't know where to focus for just one thoughts for this email.

I suppose I want to draw your attention to the night Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, and his disciples (who were supposed to be praying and watching at the gate) repeatedly fell asleep and left him alone, unsupported, in his darkest hour. (See Matthew 26:36-46)

I have to confess; for a long time (and maybe even still), I really didn't understand Jesus' grief and despair at this time. I guess I thought, "Yes, definitely it would be somber to await one's executioners, even more so when you hadn't done anything wrong. How scary to be unjustly condemned, and how awful to await the dawn, knowing it would bring nothing but terror and, ultimately, a murderer's death by agonizing crucifixion." I didn't really get it. Jesus didn't sweat drops of blood and weep because he was afraid to die an agonizing death. (Which would be reason enough for me to sweat blood and cry, by the way. I'm terribly afraid of pain). He spent the night in total anguish because he knew that his death meant not merely excruciating physical pain, and total humiliation, but . . . he, the Holy, the Sovereign, the Son of the Father who knew God, loved God, and who was God, would become the recipient of the righteous, terrible wrath of a just and holy God. We cannot even begin to comprehend what kind of terror and anguish this is. The only Man who had ever lived in perfect obedience, total innocence, without one single sin against him, would become a blood-saturated substitute for all who were truly guilty. His holiness, cleanness, and perfect purity would bear the punishment deserved by all who were filthy, rotten, foul, debased, and evil to the core of their very beings. The punishment you and I deserve.

That is why he wept. Not for physical pain, but for spiritual anguish. The wrath of God is a crippling, terrible, frightening, killing kind of fear that cuts to the quick of all who understand its measure. It is this gasping, paralyzing, anguishing fear that drives foul sinners to repentance, that drives them to their knees, begging forgiveness from a Holy God before whom they have no reason to stand except for His grace. But, He cannot simply be gracious to wicked people and still be just; all sins have a just recompense, a wage that has been earned and must be paid. That wage is death. An agonizing, spiritual, separated-from-God death. A death you and I, by all rights, have earned for ourselves by our foul hearts.

And Jesus Christ, that loving, gentle, holy, perfect, beautiful Son of Man and Son of God, saw down the corridors of time and saw your face, your tear-filled eyes, your guilty sentence, your hopeless plight, your foul record of sins, and he stepped up to executioner's block, not only for a physical death, but for the full onslaught of the out-poured wrath of God. For you. For me. And it cost him, oh so dearly. Such anguish. Such grief. How he prayed in that garden that there might be some other way! "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will, Father."

Oh, how great is our God. How merciful. How slow to anger, abounding in mercy. What is man, that You are mindful of him? We are so small, so weak, so flawed, yet he loves us still. I cannot understand such love. And in its wake, as a recipient of such immeasurable graciousness, how can I possibly settle for a religion that is shallow, weak, apathetic, fleshly in its lusts, and requires me to give less than absolutely everything? Look at what He did for me! Would I insult him so, and disregard such love? What hypocrisy is such a pseudo-faith! Far be it from me, oh Lord. I am weak, but You are strong. Help me, Father, to live with urgency and a right perspective of my place: from whence I've come, by Your amazing grace.

"Who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began." (2 Tim 1:9)

All my love, sweet girls,
~Brenna

. . . Coram Deo . . .
"Living before the face of God"