Humanity + Holiness

The wonder of Christmas really is the miracle that the holy can become human...and vice versa, that the human can be reunited with the holy. As humans, I think this combination doesn't feel "seamless" - it often feels more like the tension between the dark and the light. (I just saw The Last Jedi last night, so that imagery is still vivid) Humanness and holiness don't seem to exist on the same plane, for us.

...but that couldn't be farther from the truth, could it?

Our humanity is what makes our holiness accessible. Our humanity makes holiness not seem like an impossible ideal, but instead a glorious place of love, acceptance, mercy, and joy.


What has flagged that for me this Christmas? My mom.

My mom doesn't tend to get the "shout-out" she has earned in my life, probably because of the centrality she plays. You don't notice the importance of breathing - you just do it everyday, every moment...and that's sort of how my mom is. She is SO MUCH of who I am that I don't even know how to recognize and honor her importance.

At Thanksgiving, we had a "discussion" where she said, "Can we just stop making fun of me for my short-comings? It's always funny to bring up the things that I do wrong. Well, it's not funny to me!"

...and it's true. We often have a really good laugh at my mom's antics...like the bumper boats incident. Those moments are inscribed into our shared family experience. ...but, we don't laugh at the them because they highlight her imperfection - I love them because they highlight her accessibility. Her realness. Her willingness to put herself out there...and show her vulnerabilities - and to laugh at the outcome when it wasn't ideal.  

My mom's willingness to be herself, to allow her "imperfections" to be displayed makes me love her more. My mom's immediate reaction to a problem with, "Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit!" makes me love her more. If she responded beatifically to every situation, well, I think we would be the most insufferable people. Completely inaccessible to others. Unrelatable. Untouchable. Separate. Removed. 

Instead, she is the person to whom I can give a gift that combines two seemingly unrelated things:

because she is my personal reminder that humanity and holiness dwell together. She can laugh at the message of "Sofa King Bueno" while allowing the immutable truth of Jesus Christ present to us to be the anchor of her soul through the storms of life.  ...I think people might say the same of me - and that is often why describing her importance in my life is so difficult. She is my first teacher and my best friend.


Humanity and holiness dwelling together. My friends, this is the Christmas Mystery. That the Creator of the Universe, God from God, Light from Light...could even put on our flesh and become human - that is mystery itself. ...but the fact that this God would choose to put on humanity...that is love itself.

Our image of holiness is one that is removed. separate. untouchable. ...because our sin doesn't allow us to encounter holiness. The effect of coming close to the fire of holiness would be to burn away to impurities and the imperfections - and that seems scary. To encounter the fire of holiness in our state would certainly be our undoing, our end.

The idea of God often seems far from us. God is removed from us. Separate. ...unreachable...untouchable...unrelatable.

...which is why the Incarnation, God becoming flesh, Light entering the world in the form of a person should bring us to our knees - out of sheer awe and relief and worship and joy.

Jesus, who did not believe equality with God was something which should be grasped,
humbled himself and taking the form of a man,
and finding himself in the form of a man, submitted to death - even death on the cross -
that at his name, every knee should bow on heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue proclaim that "Jesus is Lord!"

The miracle of Christmas is humanity and holiness reunited, knit together in the form of Jesus Christ. Jesus - the baby in the manger, born in the humblest of places into a working-class family...
Jesus - the teenager who senses his calling, who knows he is meant for more - submits to his parents' desire for him to stay home and near them...growing in grace and favor;
Jesus - the teacher, inspiring and confusing;
Jesus - the miracle worker, loving and noticing and touching and healing - the unlovable, the forgotten, the untouchable, the broken;
Jesus - the prophet, speaking words of truth that divide soul & spirit, right from might;
Jesus - the prince of peace and the stumbling block;

Jesus - in a manger, in his mother's arms.
Jesus - in a temple, sitting among his teachers.
Jesus - in a boat. on a beach. at a well, speaking to individuals, to friends, to the masses.
Jesus - at a dinner with his friends, reclining at table.
Jesus - praying for a miracle. desperate for a resolution. seeking consolation.
Jesus - taking up his cross, and shouldering the mantle of his calling.
Jesus - bearing all the brunt of hatred, power, man's inhumanity to man, our sin and all that has separated us from the holiness of his Father....he took it all upon him. ALL.
Everything that separated us from the presence of holiness himself: God the Father, Jesus destroyed through that cross. Everything. EVERY THING. including death.

For me, the images that evoke Jesus' humanness the most are his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane and his crown of thorns. I see in those two images the very image of what it means to be human - to wrestle with the weight of suffering and death, the vulnerability to be scared and tell God about it, and to find the love and the strength to endure cruelty, pain, and the worst. excruciatingly painful and humiliation - and love and forgive - to do it all willingly and with overflowing love: that is what it means to be holy.

In his humanity and through his holiness, Jesus has been the restoration of our life. He has redeemed our lives through love. In him and through him: holiness and humanity can dwell together in harmony once again. They are not ying-and-yang. It is our true self, our true calling. Humanity and holiness dwelling in harmony.

Only possible through Jesus Christ, the God-Man. This Christmas, let us throw off all that hinders us and coming running into the arms of our Savior and Lord. This reconciliation - this is the greatest gift.



...and it enables us to look at the circumstances of life knowing that it's sofa king bueno because it really is well with our souls.


Merry Christmas!

Let go of worry by being faithful in prayer

Today is my beautiful mom's birthday. I wrote her a little Facebook dedication today:

Happy Birthday to my mom! She's one of those people who mean so much to me that I can never really find the words to accurately say it all. She is "my person" when I need to emote - cry, vent, celebrate, worry. She tries to solve my problems (even when I don't want her to) because she cares. She wants the best for me and doesn't let me stay in a mindset that is not based on the Truth/reality of faith. She is a resting place; she is my shopping buddy; nothing makes me happier than seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. Thanks for teaching me to love life and to let go of worry by being faithful in prayer.

There are a lot of things I could expand upon, but I'm going to focus on what is probably her biggest gift to me: let go of worry by being faithful in prayer.

I am a Wednesday baby. You know what that means, right? "Wednesday's child is full of woe." ...and I live that out well. When I first read about 4 personality types (not Myers-Briggs) - the phlegmatic, sanguine, choleric, melancholic - in high school, I could strongly identify with the melancholic with my "internal self' - but I so badly wanted to be the sanguine, my "outside" self. The best way to describe the melancholic is to just think of Eeyore.

My internal self would worry; not all of the time - but, enough. I couldn't sleep the night before leaving for summer camp because I was worried about all the newness + being away from home; I was sick to my stomach the first 3 days I was in Rome (in high school) because I couldn't get in touch with my parents to let them know I was okay; I didn't get a small section of my hair wrapped in embroidery floss when in Italy like all the other girls because I didn't want to come home and have my mom think I'd changed so much on our 10-day trip to Italy/Greece.

I cried several times before starting 6th grade because it was the start to something I couldn't stop - THE REST OF MY LIFE. When opening a pack of 10 pens, I realized that I could use one pen each year - and that would get me through the entirety of high school AND college! (and I cried) Then, I got going with school - and the scary part wore off.

...then I graduated high school. Once county fair was over, the emotions came again. I cried once a day for 2 weeks about starting college/saying good-bye.

All of this is to demonstrate that transitions/changes have never been my strongest, emotionally. I also write this to share how much my mother has taught me over the years that this is no longer the same struggle for me.

My mom and I are quite alike in some ways - but also very different in others. Namely, she does not worry - and I'm not sure she ever has. As the youngest of 6, she got to be the carefree youngest. The parents are too tired from raising the others to put the pressure of being the 'perfect first', so the youngest get to just skate on through life. Although, the youngest can get the 'smothering' effect and feel so doted on that they need to exert their difference, their independence from all 'help' given by parents/older siblings.

It was always remarkable to me that she didn't worry, especially given that my grandmother is such a worrier. So, one day after graduating, I asked her, "Mom - why didn't you worry about me? Even when you knew that I was partying?" She said, "I just prayed for you, and knew that God would take care of you."

This lesson has guided me through my adult life by approaching new situations or life changes with prayer. Though, I am not perfect...and I often pray after the fact instead of first...but still, I do it. The last two months have been one of the most turbulent circumstantially, but also one of the blessed. Rather than worry first, I pray. ...and I pray often...through those prayers, peace stills my soul even though the waves still rage.

Proverbs 31:25 says "She is clothed with strength and dignity - and she can laugh at the days to come." To me, this is my mother. She can laugh at the days to come because she has covered them in prayer, and she trusts that God is true to His word - that all things can work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purposes. (Romans 8:28 - one of the first verses she taught me)

So, happy birthday, Mom! Many more to come!

Thanks, Mom

In honor of my mother's birthday today, I thought that I would share some of the lessons I learned from my mom.  This is written a bit more in the spirit of a 'roast' instead of the tear-jerker memoir. But, if I know my mom, she'll get teary even while laughing.

Thanks, Mom, for being well-dressed. Your hand-me-downs keep me looking good.

Thanks, Mom, for loving to shop. This ensures that I get those aforementioned hand-me-downs while they are still in style.

Thanks, Mom, for showing me just how long 15 minutes can last. I am positive that I learned "15-minutes" can be anywhere from 20-35 minutes from you. I thank you for the lesson; I'm not sure Dan does. :)

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me the value of a Cabbage Patch Doll. When in first grade, I really wanted a "real" Cabbage Patch Doll - not the "fake" CPDs that my mom made for me. The fake ones had weird noses and looked like they were always leaking snot. So, around Easter time, while shopping with my mom (at Sernette's!), I spotted one I wanted. She allowed me to get it, on the condition that I 'bought' it. So, for several weeks, I would do chores; my mom would hand me a dollar, and I would hand it right back to her. I learned that one CPD was enough for me. :) ...and I treasured that 'real' CPD much more than if I didn't have to work for it.

Thanks, Mom, for not reading too many parenting books. That one time that you read the book by John Rosemond was a pretty rough week for me. I didn't enjoy paying 25-cents every time I called Matt a "Butthead."

Thanks, Mom, for not realizing that I called Matt a "butthead" because the older brother on the Wonder Years called Kevin that all the time.

Also, thanks for not looking too hard when you couldn't find that parenting book anymore. I hid it in the guest room at Grandma Faye's. ...and I think it stayed there until she moved. ...and I'm not sorry.

[Also, can we just take a moment and appreciate the perfection of the insult that 'Butthead' is? It combines 'poophead' and 'fartface' into one, all-encompassing, put-down: 'butthead.']

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me power of suggestion. I can still remember your entry in my autograph book in 2nd grade:

"I chose yellow [the color of the page you wrote on] because it is one of the school colors of Iowa State. That is where I went to school and would be honored if you went there, too."  

So, from 2nd grade, I knew that in order to make my mom happy, I would have to go to Iowa State. [not that I would have ever chosen another school...but I might have at least taken a look] :)

Thank, Mom, for being such a cool Mom. Part of the reason that I always wanted my friends to come over was because I wanted to spend time with my awesome Mom. I still want my friends to hang out with you and see how great you are.

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to make awesome faces for photos.

Thanks, Mom, for showing me how to laugh at yourself. ...and to not take yourself too seriously. You know what best exemplifies this? ...the bumper boats at Okoboji....

Thanks, Mom, for letting me be me.

Thanks, Mom, for knowing when to tell me to just knock it off when I'm being too much of me.

Thanks, Mom, for making our house a home through your decorating. It's always welcoming, inviting and warm.

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to work to deadlines. Company coming over in 2 hours? Plenty of time to clean the house! [To be fair, if you had cleaned the house any sooner than the day that company was coming it just would have been needed to be cleaned again...the day of.]

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me that even though the company we are cleaning for has seen a dirty house before, we should still clean the house for them, anyway.

Thanks, Mom, for instilling me with the DIY-spirit. Why spend money for something when we can have the pride and joy of doing it ourselves?

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me the power of dreaming. As in, the power of visualizing what DIY-awesomeness could be ours when Pinterest wasn't even a twinkle in their creator's eyes. The 4-H Building at the Iowa State Fair was Pinterest for generations of Iowans...and still is for my mom and me.

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to leave your home/family to make a new one in a new land among new people.

Thanks, Mom, for being better than a sister and a best friend. You are my Mom...my teacher, my confidant, my corrector, my fashion-consultant, and my friend. I love you!