MISS MOOX: Jesus

Yesterday I heard from my immigration lawyer that Citizenship and Immigration Canada is requesting a medical exam.

My application to immigrate to Canada was submitted a year and a half ago. During that time, I moved to the States, adjusted to a totally new and different place, lived in six different houses, had three jobs, suffered severe depression, went through a whirlwind romance and heartrending breakup, and got healed by God. I've been knit into the joyous and glorious dance that is my church, and ultimately, the kingdom of God. I've come to love people here and form good friendships, some of which I hope will last a lifetime. I've learned to appreciate the unique beauty of the New England seacoast. I will miss it here, in many ways, if I go back to Canada.

Apparently, once a medical exam is requested, you are all but in. CIC only requires medicals of those they have intent of accepting; with no other problems on the application, a clear medical is a green light. Only if I exhibit some severe mental or physical condition or communicable disease requiring hospitalization and dependence on social services, with unlikelihood of being self-supporting, will they refuse me. Apparently.

I confess I am divided, with the heaving thoughts and emotions associated with such a big step. When I first moved here, all I thought about was going back to Canada. I strained toward the day when I could return and resume "normal life". More recently, the connections I've formed here have caused such an attachment that I've wanted not to go back to Canada, but to stay here, remain a part of the church, keep up with the relationships I have, be a part of what's going on. I thought that if I was accepted, there'd be a long and difficult decision about whether to stay or to go.

But when the news came yesterday an exultant flood of joy welled up in me that I couldn't suppress and didn't expect. "Canada! Canada!" was all I thought. The country I lived in for six years, came to love, became a part of, now could be mine! The city I lived and played and worked and studied and loved in, Toronto, could be my home again. The multiplicity and diversity of the ethnic makeup, the bustle of the city, the multitude of opportunities and the palette of crazy life on every corner: mine to inhabit. For real this time. As a resident. Belonging.

All my reasons for staying here in a moment were torn away and I realized: there's nothing here I can't leave. No defining ties. Sure, there are lots of people I love. There's a fantastic church, the best I've ever been a part of, a leadership team I'm proud to support and exciting things that are happening.

But when I gave my life to God, I meant it, and, as someone in our church likes to say, he took it. It's not mine to direct. It's his. And I sense he's saying, "Go."

It will mean another rending. It will mean another ripping up of little roots that cling to the soil, leaving bits of me behind. It will mean the hardship of adjusting, once again, even to a familiar environment. It will mean the pain of missing what I have here. It will mean relationships which will have to be maintained long distance, and people I can no longer drop in to see once a week.

But can I not do it? No. I heard God whisper to me, "Don't ever say you can't do anything I've called you to." And I believe it. And I know, if he wants me to move back to Canada, that he's got greater things there for me.

But this place, will always be a part of me. It will always have my heart.

I'm so thankful, as I was thinking last night during worship at homegroup, surrounded by some of the most precious people in my life: this life is so temporary. The rendings, the partings, the pain and the sorrow, are only for such a short time. We will be together again for eternity, united where no death, no move, no animosity or hardship, will ever part us again. United around the one who makes us one, the reason for our being: Jesus. And it will be forever.

So that in mind, I can do this. Yes, it will be hard. But I can never say no. It's not my life. On to the next adventure.

It was unaccountably spring when I stepped out of my door this morning. The earth was shades of brown and green, the snow completely gone, and the air warm. The gorgeous morning sunlight was on everything, turning the pines of the forest into almost a cathedral. A bird called sweetly and insistently from a distant tree. The crows called more raucously and clamorously.

The air smelt of spring, that fresh, alive, invigorating, earthy smell that feels as if it nearly imparts life with every breath. It was as if the earth had briefly shaken itself free from its winter slumber in impatient jubilation of the time when it would become a nursery of expectant life. Everything seemed excited, alive, waiting.

It was with great reluctance that I stepped into the door at work, knowing that it meant being imprisoned away from such beauty until it had shouted and skipped and flung itself away into night. But somehow just being there is enough. . .and I can see the gentle hand of its Creator on every branch, touching it in love. How much joy it must give him. . .

"he [Jesus] upholds the universe by the word of his power." (Hebrews 1:3)

I spoke to a friend on the phone last night, a recently-made friend met at my last job, with whom I instantly connected before he announced that he was moving cross-country. He confessed to me in broken tones that he was seriously depressed. A week before, when we'd spoken on the phone, our conversation was the only thing that kept him from harming himself. His life seemed like one endless panorama of suffering, a constant uphill battle which was dragging him down with no hope and no light in sight. Our friendship, he said, was the one good thing in his life.

It's at times like that when I'm so thankful, in an odd way, for what I've gone through in my life. My life, too, seemed like one unbroken record of suffering; at times, I felt that God was seeking to make me an example of suffering, an experiment to see how much pain one human could endure. I felt hopeless, despairing, with no end in sight. For much of my life, I sincerely wanted to die.

But the difference is that I've come out the other side. I've been healed. I'm walking in freedom. I've known and tasted God's love and power. And now, I can turn to someone like my friend, from the other side of the darkness, and say, There is hope. It doesn't have to be this way. You, too, can be free.

At times like that, I wouldn't trade my life for the easiest, most pain-free existence imaginable. For then, who would reach out to the suffering? Who would tell them that there is hope? That the impossible, is possible, with God?

I feel a bit like Paul:

"Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life." (1 Timothy 1:15-16)

For "worst of sinners", perhaps substitute "most hopeless of depressives". But even that, too, he can change. And I'm so glad, that I can be an example to those who are walking in those same shoes.

This is something I wrote on New Year's Day, 2006. I found it this new year, and could not believe what a difference a year has made. I could not write this anymore. I post it here just to show what my life and my thinking was like a year ago, what it was for years, and how profoundly changed it is now. This was not written for publication, obviously, but since I'm not living it anymore I can publish it without fear:

Alone. I’ve been alone all day, since coming home from church. I left early. It’s to be questioned if I really wasn’t alone there either. I went, took in the service, talked to a few people and said the expected “happy new years”. The profound sense of not belonging, not fitting in, finally became overwhelming enough to make me walk out, long before the social hour afterward ended.

The service was jubilant. The church was celebrating those who’d come to Christ in the previous year, and showed a video with highlights of 2005. The worship was exuberant, excited, and many people were dancing uninhibitedly, clearly enjoying God. I watched, the acute pain of feeling like an outsider in the midst of the celebration overridden in moments, but coming back with twisting sharpness just as inevitably. I watched with a smile on my face as Russell and his brother jumped, whirled, and clapped with fists raised in the air, totally abandoned to God’s worship at the front of the church, completely unconscious of what anybody thought. I watched as Megan worshipped God with arms spread outward and a smile of pure joy on her face. I watched as Seth received prayer from a group so large they were jockeying for position to lay hands on him. His hands were upheld and a peaceful smile of bliss was on his face as he received from God. How God must love that, I thought, and the whipping pain of realizing, “I’m not like that,” hit sharp as a fist. Why can’t I be like that? I wonder. How do some people sustain that? Why do some people have such tender hearts? Why do they have no problem allowing God to penetrate them? Why do they so easily bear fruit when I don’t? Hidden and shut away in loneliness and pain, I weep silently and nobody sees. I cry out to God but it seems to make no difference. Hidden from my sight, any prayers for help seem to be met with answers that cause only more pain and don’t bring the solution. Why, I wonder? Why?

And I know the answer is nothing. I don’t know what the answer is. I bear this pain with a silent grimace and cries inside too stifled to be heard or even felt. I buckle under my pain and settle for enduring it because it seems no help is to be found, no answer is to be had, no solution is at hand. Wretched and hopeless endurance of what I feel that I cannot endure is my life. No amount of prayer, no amount of prophecy, no amount of “inner healing” seems to make a difference. I know that the problem lies with my stubborn will and my refusing to allow God in. But even realizing that makes no difference. I can’t overcome it.

I live in pain. My days are spent in misery. I am eaten up with loneliness, with the longing for someone to see me inside as I am and care. I wish that someone could help me. I fear utter abandonment, total loneliness. My social encounters are meaningless and bored. I can’t recall the last real or memorable conversation I had with anyone. Glib exchanges focus on appearing as normal and happy as possible. Never do they dip beneath the surface because my highest value is self-preservation, my worst fear being found out. I keep polite conversations as short as possible, to minimize the length of time I have to make the effort to pretend. I hate parties, groups of people, and conversations where people ask about myself. Which is most of them, since all of us are polite enough to play that game.

Whatever. Even writing this provides no catharsis. I will go to bed alone, in sodden and sullen pain, and wake up in the morning, and go to work at my meaningless job, and come home and go through the routines of eating and cleaning and checking email and talking on the phone and getting ready for bed and going to bed and I’ll get up again the next morning and do it all the same. No light breaks into this darkness, no respite from the pain. Where this will go or I will go nobody knows. Stay tuned.

In 2007, I want:

To be a light so that everybody who looks at me, sees Jesus.

So that those who have given up hope can see his mercy.

So that those who despair of themselves can find his grace.

So that those who have no purpose can find themselves caught up in the purposes of God.

So that those who are hurting and lonely can find healing and help.

So that those who know him can know him more.

So that those who don't know him will meet him, and discover in him all that they have been looking for.

That is my greatest hope, and prayer, and purpose for this new year.

On the road for seven hours, sliding through radio stations, the scanner rapidly flipping through frequencies for minutes at a time during long lonely mountain stretches, every once in a while popping alive with a blast of country or classic rock, startling me out of my daydreaming with a jump. Rain lashes down, turning the road into a steaming muck of mist thrown up by slashing tires. I slide by slower drivers. The serious speeders slide by me. A fellow driver honks and throws me the finger when I cut him off. I pray intermittently and fall into deep, pensive thinking in between. I stop only once, for fifteen short minutes. Finally, I arrive at my exit and signal to turn off with gratitude. Another forty-five minutes, and I am home. I walk in with apprehension, bags on my arms. Greeted by my sister, who is going out with friends, and my mum, who is the only other one at home. I settle into the familiarity of the family home quietly, tucking away my bags and resting after the long journey.

Christmas with my family this year was a blessing, a nearly tension- and confrontation-free time. Grace for my parents, melted heart at my father's sorrow-tautened face as he held me for a long time when I left, saying goodbye. Laughter and tears with my sister, deep conversation as I sought to touch her with the grace I've been given. Love for the wild one, the prodigal, my youngest sister. Enjoyment of my boisterous younger brother's exuberance with life, his study, his calling. Thankfulness that the other brother and his wife, whom I don't know well, could be with us.

I caught up with several old friends. I rested. I experienced grace in the middle of difficulty. I thanked my God that he was still there. I exclaimed over the handmade quilt my mother proudly gave me for Christmas, her first, love in every stitch. I left more confident than ever that my family are in his hands.

And I came back, thankful to be with my other family, the people I know and love and walk with Jesus with as we seek to live out his calling in community.

How was your Christmas? I hope it was as good. Many blessings to all of you in the new year.

Greetings on this WINTRY WHITE DAY!
The snow is falling gently on this December morning.
This Christmas I pray each one of you are blessed to spend time with family and friends to celebrate the season.
Christmas services...
Caroling
Exchanging gifts...
Dining together...
Helping the needy...
Celebrating Jesus birth.

Several years ago I made this little Christmas quilt. I added hand embroidered touches, buttons, tiny charms, soft flannel, festive homespun prints and a cheerful Christmas theme.

"Every time a bell rings an angel gets it's wings..."
from "It's A Wonderful Life"
One of my favorite Christmas movies

"Mother in the kitchen now
baking pies and cakes,
cookies, candies, goodies, too.
That only Mother makes."

Can you smell the sweet aroma from Mother's pies and cakes?
I enjoyed hand embroidering the steam escaping from each pie!

I love embroidering french knots! They make the prettiest snowflakes.

Baby...It's cold outside!

The winter weather has arrived in style.
We have a beautiful coat of white puffy snow
blanketing the landscape.
It's definitely mitten weather!

"Over the hill and through the woods...
to Grandmother's house we go..."

"WINTRY WHITE STUFF"
Having a little fun with picmonkey...
Would you believe it's snowing inside???

Merry Christmas! This year my husband is home. I am so grateful and never take it for granted. I recall the year that he was deployed overseas. Please remember those who are serving away from home this Christmas. May God bless them and their families. Blessings,Carolynn xoxo

"Joy to the world
the Lord has come...
Let earth receive her King!"

This Christmas I know many of you will be remembering the families who have suffered
tremendous loss. May God give them comfort.



I'm linking to all my favorite blog parties and giveaways for this coming week.
I hope you will stop by and visit with each lov ely blog.

Thank you, Meri, for sharing so many of your sweet vintage images.
They all speak of a simpler time.
www.imagimeris.blogspot.com



Please take time to pray for the families who have lost their precious loved ones this past week.

Blessings,
Carolynn xoxo

"May the peace that passeth all understand guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:6-7

On
Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Yesterday I went to see The Nativity Story. Overall, I thought it was well done, and I'd give it about 3-1/2 out of 5 stars.

The film had a very authentic feel to it, from the costumes to the set to the background activities taking place. It "felt" like a fairly accurate portrait of Judea two millenia ago. Apparently extensive research went into making it as authentic as possible, and it paid off, really enhancing the experience of the movie. Some of the filmography was incredibly beautiful, particularly the shots of Mary and Joseph travelling by the Sea of Galilee or the Wise Men trekking through the desert.

Quite a lot of "extraneous" material was added to "pad out" the story to the proportions necessary for a feature film. The "adding" was generally tastefully done, with nothing that detracted from the story (with possibly one or two exceptions, which I'll cover later on).

The filmmakers did a good job casting actors from a variety of ethnic backgrounds who all managed to look suitably dark-haired and dark-skinned Middle Eastern. The accented English they employed was designed to mimic the effect of speaking Aramaic, and while this could have been distracting, managed to be rather effective (as compared to Mel Gibson's subtitles in The Passion).

The film really focusses on the human element of the story. We tend to dwell on the miraculous (at least I do) and pass over the fact that this happened to real people in real time with real situations and real emotions. Some things it brought home to me: the brutal Roman oppression of the Israelites; their longing for the Messiah; the relationship between Mary and Joseph; the shame they must have suffered when Mary was found to be pregnant outside of wedlock and Joseph chose to marry her anyway. The cruelty of Herod was well-portrayed and emphasized the fact that the "opposition" was trying to destroy the Son of God from his very birth.

The most touching moments of the film (for me) were the portrayal of Jesus' actual birth, and the shepherds coming to kneel before the manger. I have to confess that I cried. The fact of God entering human time and space through a teenager's body and the bloody, painful, raw experience of actual birth was astounding. He really became one of us in every way. As the shepherds knelt, I experienced a moment of awe. Their worship of someone who was nothing more than a newborn baby is astounding evidence, to me, that God revealed to them who he was.

Despite the realism, some elements seem slightly out of place. One scene in particular seemed a little forced: Mary and Joseph are fording a stream, with Mary on their donkey. As they cross, a snake swims by. The donkey spooks and Mary is swept off and barely saved by Joseph. Perhaps, a la The Passion where Jesus stomps on the head of a snake, this is meant to depict the battle between the snake and the offspring of the woman foretold in Genesis 3:15, but it seemed rather out of place.

Some bits of the film are rather anachronistic and/or a result of the "editing" necessary to make a coherent whole. For example, the wise men show up at the stable, rather than about two years later as most scholars believe. As they and their camels kneel on the right, and the shepherds and their lambs kneel on the left of the rock cave stable, the star shines down onto the baby and the camera pans out to show us the classic Nativity scene of modern portrayals. I rather wish the film had gone for a bit more authenticity at this point and challenged our cliched conceptions rather than confirming them.

Other essential elements of the story were missed out: Mary's joyful song of worship, known as the Magnificat; the multitude of angels serenading the shepherds when the birth was announced.

As for the acting, I was disappointed in the portrayal of Mary. As the film begins, she is a slightly sullen, rebellious, typically modern teenager who clashes a bit with her parents. As it progresses, she gradually and gracefully accepts her role, but I never got the impression that it was with the wholeheartedness and joy that the Bible portrays. The Mary of the Magnificat was clearly a mature, faithful, humble and robust believer who considered it the highest possible honour to be the mother of the Messiah, as any Jewish woman of her age would. The Mary of the film is accepting, but it almost seems like something that is thrust upon her and she has to learn to deal with rather than something she is fully cooperative with. Perhaps that is the effect the filmmakers were aiming for—and it certainly enhances the "human" element—but I believe that a look at the nativity story of the Bible would show us something far different.

In addition, Keisha Castle-Hughes' acting was somewhat wooden and unemotional; I never felt like I got to "know" Mary as a person. She was silent and stoic; again, perhaps that was the effect aimed for, but I was disappointed.

In contrast, the portrayal of Joseph (Oscar Isaac) was excellent. He came across as a warm, well-rounded, emotionally integrated man who fully interacted with his unusual circumstances. In addition, he was good, honest, faithful, fair, hard-working, self-sacrificing and merciful; genuinely loved Mary and was fully prepared to take her son as his own. By the end of the film, I wanted to marry him myself! Joseph definitely shone as the star of this story.

In conclusion: this film focuses our attention on an often-neglected part of Jesus' story and is a valuable and entertaining visual. Go and see it, but make sure to read Luke 1-2 when you're finished to get the original story.

I was worshipping the other night all by myself in my room, and I asked the Holy Spirit to come. As I did, it struck me:

The Holy Spirit I ask to come when I'm worshipping alone, or whom we ask to come when we're worshipping corporately, is the same God who dwelt in the Holy of Holies in the Temple of the Old Testament. The high priest was the only one who could go in there without being killed, and even he could only do so once a year, after all the appropriate sacrifices and rituals had been made, or he would die.

This is the same God whose presence came on Mt. Sinai in such a terrifying way that the people begged God not to speak to them anymore, and who told them that if even an animal touched the mountain, it would die.

This is the God whom I invite into my body and into my presence when I worship.

And it's safe. It's ok. And he comes. Every time.

Because Jesus broke down the veil. Because he paid the price. Because he made a way. And now, by this same Spirit we have access to the Father. His presence. His love. His power. Me, a little blue-jeans-clad girl worshipping by herself in her room, can enjoy this Spirit freely without price and no fear.

I love the New Testament.

Yesterday I went to see Gunther von Hagen's Body Worlds 2 exhibit at the Boston Museum of Science. To say it was fantastic, incredible, amazing, doesn't do it justice. It has to be seen.

von Hagens' method of "plastination", whereby he slowly replaces bodily fluids with liquid polymers, preserves whole bodies or individual organs while retaining a remarkably life-like appearance. The result is a fascinating peek inside human anatomy. The accompanying audio guide, well-worth the extra fee, provides more detailed information.

The most compelling part of the exhibit is without a doubt the entire bodies, devoid of their skin and arranged in life-like poses. They offer an unparalleled glimpse of the skeletal, nervous, and muscular structures and how these systems interact. In addition, the internal organs are arranged separately in roughly anatomical order, from the brain to the reproductives, with commentary on each. Often a diseased organ is compared with a normal one to illustrate malfunctions such as smoker's lung or cirrhosis.

One of the statements at the end of the exhibit was to the effect that it would cause people to reflect on religious and philosophical questions, no matter what their beliefs. That was certainly the case for me. My impressions on the exhibit, in no particular order:

1. I now feel like I have a far greater understanding or at least appreciation of anatomy than I did in high school. That alone was worth the price.

2. The human body is such an intricately yet perfectly designed system. Just a description of the kneecap and the way it is held in place by a muscular support system, encased in a capsule, and shielded by cartilage to protect its role as the most-stressed joint in the body, is enough to convince me. Let alone the workings of the inner ear and how tiny delicate bones, fluids, and hairs interact to turn sound waves into electrical impulses that the brain then decodes and understands.

3. How could anybody think this was a fluke of chance?

4. Worship. Of a God so amazing who designed it all so perfectly.

5. The reality of mortality. Probably most of the mostly young, high-school age crowd at the exhibit rarely if ever had given a thought to the fact that they'd end up like these corpses one day. Talk about death was interwoven throughout the exhibit, from the interviews with the creator on the audio guide, to the printed wall hangings. It's not something that allows that question to remain unconsidered—all of the exhibits were real people. Unfortunately the prevailing philosophy seemed to be that "with death, we cease existence." It's a grim outlook with little hope.

6. That I am so thankful that I do have hope for life beyond death. My body isn't all there is, this life on earth isn't all there is, I have a certain future because of Jesus. 'Nuff said.

7. That my time in this body is all I have before eternity—and how I live it matters. I won't get another chance. I want to make it count for God as much as I can, and not live it for myself. I don't want to end up like the rich but foolish man Jesus described, thinking this is all there is.

Anyway, those are just my thoughts—but I'd encourage anyone who has the opportunity to see it for yourself. Just be sure you're not squeamish before you go—it's not for the faint of heart.