Stasi's Blog
A Mother's Christmas Angst
In the light of recent tragedies, my desire to create a stunning, memorable and holy Christmas this year has paled. A little. Yet, if I'm honest, the desire does remain in tact just a breath beneath the surface. Last year, at the peak of my pre-Christmas angst, I journaled my internal tug of war. With hope—and as a gift to all out there like me who are feeling the pressure of longing to create a holy encounter for their loved ones this Christmas—I want to share my entry. Desperately I feel such a compulsion to strive, to reach for entrance into the place where memory meets longing meets wonder meets fulfillment. A way to touch transcendence and meaning and connection. If I bake enough cookies and the house is filled with decorations and lights and boughs of evergreen, will our world, our home, our family be secure in the love and light of God? Can I carol and wrap my way into the time of my childhood when I carried no responsibility for beauty or Santa or Jesus? Can I create an experience where I connect my past with my families present and the world will be lovely and safe and filled with a foundation of unshakable love? We dress up our homes and neighborhoods in lights and bows and nostalgia reaching for hope and a better world. How do I get there with my family? If we go to midnight mass? If we dress up for Christmas dinner? If we continue with our family traditions of waffles and berries and whipped cream for breakfast and an ornament in our stocking, will we know we are connected to our past and will therefore be connected in our future? That there is a future that is good. Will we then know that there is a coming where hope and longing and promise are fulfilled? And it's lovelier than twinkly Christmas lights. Where all is gained and nothing good is lost and Jesus is at once the Babe in the manger and the Warrior on his steed. The lion and the lamb will lay down together. And the fragrance of sugar cookies baking will carry only the scent of satisfaction instead of hunger. Where my mother is alive and my father is young and laughing. My husband's eyes are dancing and my sons know they are seen and loved. And all our hearts are embraced and known and know that all is better then well. That's the Christmas I want. The best moments of the past, the memory of what should have been married to the beauty and depth of what could be - become one. With perfectly wrapped packages under the tree and each one being opened bringing deeper delight. Endlessly. Endlessly. Endlessly." Dear ones, may your holidays indeed be holy days filled with both joy and the hope filled promise that every good thing you long for is coming. It is coming. We can't wrap our way into that truth but we can receive it. We can receive him—the Babe and the Warrior, the Lion and the Lamb. Jesus. Hallelujah and Amen. Happy receiving and Merry Christmas!
Stasi Eldredge
A Taste
To paraphrase Philip Yancey, “Faith believes ahead of time what can only be understood by looking back.” I was six months pregnant with our first child when my husband was transferred to a new job. Moving from our home in California to a new one on the East coast was a terrifying proposition to me. Mercifully, we didn’t have to move until our baby boy was three months old, allowing me to give birth and begin the adjustment to motherhood surrounded by my family and friends. But the move was hard. It turned out that the move back less than two years later was even more difficult. Researching the area, John learned of a church that mutual acquaintances of ours had planted in Laurel, Maryland. It had many young mothers in it like me, was "seeker friendly," and welcomed our involvement. So we moved there. And we dove in. (Choosing where to live based on the Christian community available is brilliant.) The day we arrived with the moving truck, so did the pastor, asking if we needed help unpacking. When it came time to move back to California, I was eight months pregnant with our second child, and three women appeared on my doorstep with buckets and cleaning materials in hand to spare me the work. In between was the richest taste of Christian community I have ever had. One of my dear friends drove us to the airport and I clung to her, sobbing, as we said our painful goodbyes. Leaving wasn’t just difficult. It was excruciating. That was twenty-two years ago. The church just finished celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary and to end the yearlong celebration, John and I flew back to participate. I was honored to speak at a women’s event Saturday night, John spoke at the two Sunday morning services and God, well, God blindsided me. Overwhelmed during the worship Sunday, I had to sit down with my face in my hands and weep. I wept for remembering. I wept for the unhealed sorrow I didn’t know was there. I wept for the taste of Heaven that going back and being with these dear ones offered me. I know Heaven is real. I believe that in our lives with Christ, nothing good is truly lost. I believe we get back every treasured time and moment and relationship that has been taken from us. But I didn’t know I was going to experience that on this trip. It turned out to be an appetizer to the Banquet, a slipping into the joy of eternity, a holy reunion. Leading worship were two dear ones, a husband and wife, who led worship twenty-two years ago. There he was playing the guitar with passion and skill, and she was singing with beauty and depth. The pastor and his wife were leading, loving, and speaking with the same gentle and winsome strength that they used to–though all of their hearts have been honed and crafted by suffering. Two rows behind me was a couple we often had picnics with and when the husband saw me, this composed, reserved man climbed over the chairs to hug me. You bet I wept. A lot of life has happened since we were last with this company of believers. We have all endured much. Hardship. Illness. Loss. Pain. Betrayals. Death. And we all have also known goodness. Beauty. Faith. Surrender. Glory. Joy. Hope. Love. Life. The presence of God. Jesus reigned then and he reigns now. Acknowledging all of the life and goodness that has come from our difficult choice to leave those many years ago, a friend said, “I hated that you had to leave. And I’m so glad you did.” Yes. Me, too. Looking back, and looking forward, I can truly say, “Thank you, Jesus. You are the Giver of all good gifts even when all is mystery and I simply don’t understand. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Stasi Eldredge
Pearl
My mother told me that “Good things come to those who wait” and usually when the thought of waiting felt too much to bear. Cookies to come out of the oven. Christmas morning to arrive. A graduation. A boyfriend. A dream. Waiting is hard. A recent study suggests that we human beings are pretty good at waiting especially when we know that what we are waiting for is going to be awesome. The better the prize, the longer we will wait. Heaven is going to awesome! Jesus’ return will be glorious beyond description! And that is going to happen. Okay then. I’ll wait. Not that I have much choice in the matter, but knowing that the reality of the Kingdom of God coming fully and Jesus reigning completely here is only a matter of time is helpful. Boy is it helpful. Oh happy day when there will be no more tears, all evil vanquished forever and all our dreams come true! I can feel my heart rise again merely at the thought of it. Oh to see Jesus face to face!!!! What are you waiting for these days? Looking forward to? I’m really looking forward to our sons coming home for Thanksgiving. Which is, apparently, next week. (How did that happen?) We’ll be picking up two of them from the airport next Wednesday morning and it will feel like I’m eight years old again and it’s Christmas morning. I want to say, “I can’t wait!”, but I will have to. Good things are worth waiting for. I read today that it takes one to five years for a freshwater pearl to be formed. A saltwater pearl takes a bit longer, five to twenty years. A thing of beauty, they can’t be rushed. They’re worth the wait. It took ten years for our ministry to come out with the Captivating Pearl Collection. They’re CDs from the live women’s events we hold in Colorado. Each CD is a session that was selected as the “best of” after ten years of beautiful, Holy Spirit-filled retreats. I think they’re worth the wait. Our hope is that they are conduits of Christ’s love and healing…that listening to them will help us to continue on our faith journey, to remember who Jesus really is and who we are to him. Priceless treasure is being formed in our hearts while we wait for him…more costly than gold, more lovely than pearls. I’m waiting with you. It will be worth it. And Happy Thanksgiving!!!
Stasi Eldredge
Freedom
My “Official Ballot” came in the mail yesterday. I was so happy to get it. Come November 6th, I won’t have to stand in line! Though, I will miss my “I voted” sticker, it’ll be good to do it in advance. One of my son’s “Official Ballot” came in the mail too. The thing is, I don’t know that he is going to vote for the same candidate that I am. In fact, I don’t think he is. So, I confess, a wicked thought went through my head. Rather than engaging with my son in meaningful and respectful discussion that may change one of our opinions, I could just not give it to him! OK, I didn’t entertain the thought for long. The Holy Spirit isn’t much for lying, cheating or stealing and honestly neither am I. I don’t want to keep my son from participating in his first presidential election and enjoying one of the fabulous freedoms we possess in the United States. We have so many freedoms we are privileged to enjoy as citizens here but this is truly one of the great ones! 30 years ago, John and I attended a wonderful Bible based church in Sierra Madre, California. A young man also attended there who had an amazing spirit and an even more amazing testimony. He hadn’t grown up with the freedoms I take for granted. He was from Uganda. He had been in prison there because he was a Christian. He had been brutally tortured and had the scars to show for it. His days were spent being beaten. During one of his trials there, he was chained to the ceiling - hung by his hands with his feet grazing the floor. His guard’s job was to whip him. Beatings lasted for hours. After a few days, this young man was aware of the guard cleaning up his “tools” preparing to leave…and he said to the guard, “Have a nice evening.” Seriously. He blessed him. Have a nice evening. Which of these men was free? Truly free? The guard was undone. He was angry. “How can you say that to me? How can you say that?” Our friend told him how. He told him about Jesus – about the price that Jesus paid to win his heart – about the freedom he knew in Christ. He told him about being LOVED and FORGIVEN and ACCEPTED and KNOWN perfectly. A few days later, that guard helped him to escape. But before he helped him leave the country, he first took him to his home to treat his wounds, feed him and have him share the Gospel with his family. Have a nice evening?!?!?! This young man was free. The guard became free and so did his family. In Christ, we too are free. We are no longer slaves. We have been freed. We are no longer in bondage to sin. We have been released. In Christ, we have the freedom to choose life, choose not to sin, choose good, choose to give our sons the mail in ballot thing. We are free to choose to believe God, to become who we were created to be, to not be afraid and to not be overwhelmed by anything or anyone. Yes there is sorrow in our lives. But we will not be overcome by sorrow. Christianity is not a promise of a life with no pain or even a short cut through it. It is a promise that pain, sorrow, sin – ours and others - will not swallow us, destroy us, overwhelm us, define us or have the final word. Jesus has won our victory. He is the Final Word. We are free. 2 Cor 3:17 Now the Lord is a Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faced all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. We are being transformed. We are. God is doing it. In our transformation we are free from: Bondage Sin The fear of man Shame Regret Rage Disappointment Addiction Fear We are no longer captives to sin. We are no longer in bondage to the enemy, to the world, or to our own flesh. We have been released. We are not only free FROM – we are free TO. We are free to be transformed into the very image of Christ! We are free to bless in the face of cursing, to love in the face of hatred. We are free to become the fullest expression of our unique selves. We are free to offer to others the unique gifting that God planted in us when he first dreamed of us. We are free to: Be happy To be glorious To fail To succeed To love To live To forgive. Because of what Jesus has done, we are no longer bound by any chains. We have been ransomed, paid for, purchased, saved, and freed to be who we really are. How do we increasingly live in freedom? By increasingly coming to know and embrace the boundless love of God for us. We grow into our freedom as we are captured by his goodness, his faithfulness, his honor, his sacrifice, his compelling nature, his heart that yearns for us. We can embrace the freedom that Jesus won for us simply and only because we are so completely, loved…right now. The truth is, we are safe and secure in the love of God every moment of our lives. No matter what. The invitation of Jesus Christ is to come fully alive in his love - know him as he really is and offer both him and ourselves truly – freely to a hurting and thirsty world. I want to do to that, don’t you?
Stasi Eldredge
A New Path
I love my morning walks with our dog, Oban. It’s my time with God. My morning prayer. My realignment for a forgetful spirit. I go to the nearby Open Space and wander, sometimes hiking hard and fast, but more often, slowly, taking in the sights and smells of creation. The Waldo Canyon Fire took its toll on my city and my morning walks. The Open Space is closed and I don’t know when it will re-open. The mountains are a patchwork of black and green, the scorched against the untouched. It’s been three months since the fire and I’m ready for it to be all done, all green, all open. I have yet to find a new path to walk in the mornings though I’ve explored a few different ones. New paths are lovely. Discovering new ways, good. But there is a reason why paths become well trodden, well worn. There is a settled rhythm to the beautiful known. The last of my sons has moved out and on to college. My pantry is neat. My laundry is less. My grocery cart is light. And my heart is heavy. I am on a new and unknown path. The ways I have spent much of my days are not burned or scorched but are no longer mine. I am on unfamiliar terrain but I have to continue on it because the well worn path that I have known is closed to me. It will not re-open. Seasons change. Parks close. Friends move away. Children grow up. Life moves on. The old is gone, and ready or not, the new has come. For me, at my saddest, it can feel like my life is over. Well, a season of my life is over. But my life isn’t. No child of God’s life is ever over. (My deepest apologies to all my friends who have gone before me into this life change. I empathized with you. I ached for you. But I didn’t have a clue. I’m sorry.) All change feels like loss. Change is loss. Even fabulous change. But I do know that a season has to end in order for the new one to begin. In this change, I am holding on to my Anchor who is a light unto my path. Step by step, he will show me the way. He is the Way. Even when my heart is heavy. It will be good to discover the beauty that awaits…just around the bend.
Stasi Eldredge
Windows of Grace
My friend, Rosetta, is all for hearing about the daily activities of my life. I had called her from a stop light to check in. This day was a full one. I was busy inside and out, driving to and fro on an endless stream of errands. I was tired and not happy about it. I called Rose in the middle of my lists to say hello but also to complain a little. She didn’t let me. Not even a little bit. Instead, she spoke words of loving conviction. “How wonderful that you can get out!” “How great that you have such a full life!” “Oh, to be able to walk!” Rosetta’s life isn’t full with running errands or with running of any kind. She can’t run. She can’t walk. Bound to a wheelchair, Rose doesn’t “get out” much. But Rosetta has so much life exuding out of her spirit that sometimes, to my embarrassment, I forget. Her words reframed my moment and opened my eyes. Again. Oh to have a spirit of gratitude. Oh, to be thankful that I am able to be out and about engaged in the daily activities of a full and healthy life! Rosetta spends many of her days looking out the window in her little apartment watching the activity of others more physically able. Her little view of the world is a window of grace and she invites me to see my world through it. Rosetta offers me that. In her company the priorities of my life order themselves up correctly. She teaches me that way of love sees with a thankful heart. The simple moments that I too often take for granted are the very pearls that join together and make a beautiful life, but only when strung together with thankfulness, linked with grace. Rosetta longs to walk, to run, to get out and about. She’s been dreaming lately of walking and believes it is a promise from God that she is going to. Too many days, Rose thinks that her life is not one of much impact since she lives in dependence upon the care of others. Like most of us, she doesn’t know how much she enriches those around her by her faith in the midst of her confined life. I get to offer her my view of her life through the window of grace and she drinks deeply from hope. Some days Rosetta feels like she is losing her mind because of the unbearable pain that racks through her body but within moments the gaze of her heart turns back to Jesus in trust. She looks to him and is grateful for his love. She is thankful for his provision. She knows joy because she knows she is his. Last Friday night Rosetta and I enjoyed an unhurried conversation. Both sitting in our respective chairs, we spoke of thoughtful things; of hope, of suffering, of the mysterious ways of our God. She cried in saying goodbye. I didn’t know it would be our last. Come Sunday morning, Rosetta is running. She is free and healed and happy and seeing face to face the One who had won her heart. I already miss her. I am going to continue to miss her. But only for a little while. And while I do, I pray to see my life through a window of grace and invite others to share the view.
Stasi Eldredge
Lullaby of Delight
We were visiting friends in Tucson, escaping the freezing temperatures for a brief respite to the warmth of the sun and the warmth of a welcome. After a restful day exploring the wonder of the desert, we gathered together for evening prayer before turning in. A particular phrase of one of my friend’s prayer caught my heart and my imagination. “Father, sing your lullaby of delight over us”. I used to make up songs for my children, singing lullabies softly to coax my young sons to sleep. Never remembering the correct words, I would make them up as I went along inserting their names often. I loved it. Turns out, they loved it too. As I laid me down to sleep that night in Tucson, I asked God what his lullaby of delight over me sounded like. My mind immediately flashed to holy moments from earlier in the day - sitting alone in the shade listening to the wind blow through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees towering above me, the sound like water, like the movement of life. I remembered the sound of the red tail hawks crying and calling to each other as they circled above their nearby nest. The song of quails and mourning doves and birds I didn’t recognize added their melodies – a living spontaneous symphony. Then all was quiet again save for the movement of leaves as another gentle rolling breeze sung its way through the magnificent swaying trees. Beautiful. A holy song. A lullaby of delight.
Stasi Eldredge
Rolling in Dead Things
I love walking our golden retriever, Oban in the hills behind our home. Oban is almost 4 years old now but still such a puppy. Yesterday, he decided that he did not want to go for a walk after all but wanted to play tug ‘o war instead! In goes the leash into his mouth…back legs braced, front legs extended, head pulling and shaking enticing me to P L A Y! Ok, I know he was being bad, but he was so cute! We tugged. Back and forth and then running. He was so happy! I passed other dog walkers along the way who registered various states of disapproval. “Bad Mommy!” Oh well. Then Oban and I went up into the hills where no people were walking, no dogs tempting and off came his leash. OH HAPPINESS! He loves to run and I love his boundless doggy joy! But then, Oban found something dead to roll in. What is it with dogs and dead things? Oban plops onto his back slithering his body onto whatever gross thing he has victoriously discovered. Over and over he rolls, not wanting to miss an inch of his now stinky coat. He is savoring it, blissful as he covers his body with the scent of death. He wants to marinate in it, become one with the stench and returns to me only with the greatest of reluctance. Rolling in dead things. It’s easy to do. When I sin, it is really tempting to identify with it, marinate in it, and roll around in it. It’s so easy to believe that being a sinner is the truest me and I might as well wallow in my sin and my self-pity. Having failed again, the liar speaks with such authority to my weakened heart, saying that a sinner is who I am and sinning is all I’ll ever do so go ahead and just stay here. Roll around in death. Rolling in a dead thing. But no, the scripture says, “The death (Christ) died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus!” (Romans 6:10,11) Hah! I am not defined by sin! I am dead to sin and alive to God! I will not be like my dog that relishes the scent of death; I will be like my Jesus who is LIFE, LIFE, LIFE! How will I do that? Well, in a state of God given grace, I pray to humbly and quickly repent of sin and then turn and set my mind on things above where Christ is. He is perfect. Jesus is the only perfect One. He is my savior! I am crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me! (YAY!) When I fix my gaze on my ugly, smelly, sinful flesh, my heart spirals downward in despair. But our Jesus urges us to “Look up! Look to ME!’ I long to do that. To fix my gaze on my God, my Life, my Hope, my Love, my Jesus. One of the ways that helps me to do that is in worship. As we enter the summer months, the pace of my life slows down a bit and affords me more time to gaze at my Savior and relish who He is. I hope you will have more time for that as well. To help you, what follows is a worship set of various songs I have been enjoying recently. They help me to stay in the Truth. The truth of who Jesus is (Truth himself) and the truth of who I am to him. Which means who I really am. And who you really are, too. I pray they bless you as much as they have blessed me. With love, Stasi Mighty Breath of God Jesus Culture Come Away One Thirst (feat. Jeremy Riddle & Steffany Frizzell) [Live] 7:05 Bethel Live Be Lifted High (Live) When I Speak Your Name (feat. Kari Jobe) 5:28 Klaus Glory My Home Is You (Live) 6:48 Darrell Evans Trading My Sorrows - The Best of Darrell Evans More Than Ashes 5:54 Tim Reimherr Let the Weak Speak Fill Me Up 6:25 United Pursuit Band EP The Fragrance of Your Name 6:40 Cory Asbury Holy Faithful to the End 4:14 Cory Asbury Let Me See Your Eyes Great I Am 5:35 New Life Worship Great I Am - Single Holy 6:36 Matt Gilman Holy Yeshua (Live) 7:37 Will Reagan & United Pursuit Live At the Banks House
Stasi Eldredge
A Letter to a Young Woman
A friend’s daughter is turning 16 and asked a few friends and family members to write her a (short) letter about their memories of being sixteen and perhaps a little advice…here’s mine. I dedicate it to all the young women reading this…whatever their age. Dear Beauty, Sweet Sixteen! What a milestone! Hooray for you! On my sixteenth birthday, I got my driver’s license. Now that was sweet. Sixteen is a year of transition and wonder and enlargening circles and increasing freedom and more deeply stepping into the lovely young woman you are. When I was sixteen, most of the girls I knew had entered into the fray to attract a boyfriend. A date. An invitation. A kiss. A something. (Is it the same for you?) An intangible grid shifted in too many hearts around me (including mine) which gave an enormous amount of weight to the young men while robbing it from the young women. What did “he” think, say, do, ask? Those were the engrossing questions. What had begun in elementary school, increased to obsession in middle school, and became defining in high school. Girlfriends were sacrificed on the altar of “I’ve got a boyfriend, now.” Friendships that may have lasted for years were set aside in the interest of a relationship with a boy that may have lasted barely a few months or even days. You know it happens. Something internal inside of too many of us handed away our self worth to the cutest boy who made our heart skip a beat. Yikes. When I was in high school, I accepted this. It can be a girl thing. This valuing boyfriends above girlfriends thing. But you are not a girl. You are a self possessed, loved, and cherished young woman. Still, you are living in a world of girls. So guard your heart. Who you are is the most valuable treasure you possess. Be vigilant against handing away your self worth to anyone else. Male or female! You matter! Your heart matters! I still have girlfriends from high school. But…not any boyfriends. Friend boys. Yes. Boyfriends, no. (My most important friend boy from high school is now my husband!) There is only One who can tell you to the core of your being who you are. And He has spoken and He continues to speak. Through creation, through His Word, and through the life, death, and triumphant resurrection of His Son. You are priceless. You are immeasurably loved. And nothing and no one can ever change that! Enjoy being 16! Soak it in! There is the temptation to “rush” it…to rush life in the looking forward to the all that is coming. But I encourage you to savor it. Relish it. Stay in it. Be present to your own life and to the stage you are in; the glorious, wonderful age of sixteen! Happy Birthday, dear heart! You’re marvelous. your aunt Stasi
Stasi Eldredge
Getting Back Up
I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a few years ago. Now, I do like to dream but the resolution thing never seemed to work out for me. At the turn of this year, however, I decided to get more organized…with meal plans and grocery shopping in particular. I didn’t call my new, stay with the program, don’t try to figure out dinner at 5:30pm plan – a New Year’s resolution. But it was. I made my lists. I asked input from my family about what dinners they would like. I made a two week menu plan and posted it inside a kitchen cabinet. Ta da! And it has helped! It has. Mostly. Until a week or so ago when I got bored with the menu. But hey, it lasted more than a month! That’s at least two weeks longer than any of my previous “get my life under control” plans. And I am not scrapping it. I’m just taking a little break. Really. The line from the song Only Grace by Matthew West that goes“and if you fall, get back up, get back up” keeps playing in my head. I love that song. All those coachy, pep talking, life affirming messages of how it’s not about how many times you fall…it’s the getting back up that counts. They’re true! Exercise programs, skin care regimes, regular quiet times, nutrition protocols, getting rid of clutter, no more late fees, scripture memorization…don’t we all have such good intentions?!? They are good! And we are human. We fall. We fail. We don’t return the phone call. We misplace the tax receipt. We’re going to be alright! The falling and failing in the tiny ways and in the monumental ways really are teaching us important lessons if we will be open to learn them. Even before the phoenix rises from the ashes and is still covered in soot, there is good happening! Think mercy. Think grace. If we can be kind to ourselves when we don't live up to our own desires, we will be much more able to be kind to others when they don't. Or can't. Think of diamonds. Formed far beneath the earth’s surface (get it – you can’t see it happening) and under the perfect circumstances of pressure and heat…they rise to the surface through volcanic eruptions. Sheesh. I’m thinking there’s an analogy here. I’m not motivated to make dinner tonight. It is just not going to happen. I’m sure I can find some spaghetti in the pantry and boiling water is going to stretch the capacity of all I can muster. But I will try again. In every area where I seem to continually fall and find myself back on the ground…for what may feel either like a moment or a millennia. Diamonds are being formed. Formed in the beauty and context of grace. Getting back up. Really soon. ~Stasi
Stasi Eldredge
Dependent
Addicted to doesn’t mean the same thing as dependent upon. But it’s close, isn’t it? If I’m addicted to alcohol, my body will crave it, my mind will demand it, my cells will cry out for it. I need a drink in order to cope, to feel better or to feel nothing at all. Or, at least, I think I need a drink. I believe I need a drink. I turn to alcohol to help me, to save me. I depend upon it to do what it has done in the past…offer a momentary sense of relief. Or maybe it’s not like that at all. Maybe, if I’m addicted to alcohol, I am in a cell and it is my jailer. I need air, I need food, I need water,… I need to survive but in order to do that I must get my jailer’s permission. Alcohol holds the key that must be unlocked if I am to live. I am its slave, its prisoner. I have no choice. I am captive. Or maybe that doesn’t even come close to describing the bondage. When a person is addicted to something, they truly feel helpless to be free from it. Powerless. Unable. Somewhere, the friendly face became a tormenter. Enjoying something became needing something. Needing something became shackled to something. Pornography. Food. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Gambling. Spending. Escaping. You name it. My friend had been sober for seven years before the pain in her sons life overwhelmed her to the point that she returned to an old “lover” for comfort. At a wedding reception with her, I noticed the wine glass by her plate. “Are you drinking?”, I asked. “Yes!”, she answered with defensive strength, “it’s helping.” It’s helping. Alcohol or any other addiction may not be the answer but it is an answer. When the pain becomes too much, it can feel so much saner to run from it. But when we run from our pain, we run from our healing. After another eight months gripped by the familiar hell of alcoholism, my friend has been sober now for two weeks. And two weeks is a miracle. Heck, one day is a miracle. She is receiving the grace to stop running. I need grace as much as I need air. No, probably more. I cry out for grace. I am utterly dependent upon God’s grace. And he promises that his grace is and forever will be sufficient for us. Though we can be utterly dependent upon God, we can’t be addicted to God. God refuses to be put in a box. He will not respond, show up, or come through for us in the way we want every time simply because he is too brilliant for that. He outsmarts us. He is a PERSON who wants to be known, loved and worshiped. Not controlled. Not addicted to. But pursued. Depended upon. And proven stronger than our addictions time and time and time again. One miracle following another, day in, day out. Healing upon healing. Grace upon grace. Glory to glory.
Stasi Eldredge
COMING SOON TO A LIVING ROOM NEAR YOU
I read on Yahoo news recently about a woman (Ms. Warden) in North Carolina who is spreading the word from her Subaru that Jesus will be returning on May 21st of this year. Another ministry devoted to deciphering the scriptures teaches that he’s coming back in 2016. I forget the exact day. December 23, 2012 is also a day being offered up for Christ’s imminent and triumphant return as is May 14thof this year. From the Spokesman-Review: “It’s a very jarring thing to be told you have five months on Earth,” admits Warden, 29. “That may interrupt any earthly plan.” Warden may be making the most attention-getting end-times prediction now going, but it’s hardly the first: In the year 1000, hysteria over Jesus’ return so captivated medieval society that crops went unplanted and criminals were freed from jails. In 1988, Edgar Whisenant published “88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988.” When the year passed with the material world still intact, he followed up with “The Final Shout: Rapture Report 1989.” The world has heard lots of dire predictions in the past. No wonder most are skeptical and find this kind of declaration to border the realm of crazy. However, many if not most biblical scholars well versed in the prophetic believe that the generation who will be alive when Jesus returns is alive now. They may be twenty years old. They may be two. They do not know but they have my attention. Because we do know that Jesus is returning. He actually is coming back. And he urges us in the scriptures to be alert and ready. Which begs the question, how then are we to live? How are we to be ready? What would change in your life if you knew, really knew that Jesus would be coming back to earth in all of his glory in a mere 140 days? How would you live differently? What would your prayer life be like? How would it alter the way that you are seeking first his kingdom? Well then… I don’t know the exact date of Christ’s return. I don’t know if I am going to be alive when he breaks through the Eastern sky or if I will have already crossed over. I don’t know if I am going to see him face to face in thirty years, thirty days or thirty minutes. I do know that I am going to see him. And I want to live my life today and increasingly in a way that not only makes me more ready for that longed for moment but makes other people more ready as well. Don't you?! The fact that Jesus is returning is really good news. REALLY GOOD NEWS!!! Oh, Jesus, help us to be increasingly alert and ready. Help us to know you more deeply as you truly are. As we know you more truly, we love you more deeply, long for you more eagerly, and can't keep ourselves from winsomely telling others about how utterly marvelous you are. Come Lord Jesus. Even so!
Stasi Eldredge
The Invasion
Christmas is an invasion. Not just the kingdom of God invading the earth, but God himself, invading the earth. In Person. Oh, how I love this! I went with a friend to her church this past Sunday, this fourth Sunday of Advent. I went hungry for the holy. Knowing this is a particularly good church, I was excited and expectant…ready to encounter Jesus. The singing began. I can’t call it worship. Darn it. It was singing. Before the last song, the worship pastor had a “word” for the body. It’s was a pretty common word. I’ve heard it before. So have you. It went along these lines. “The LORD is a warrior. All battles are His. You are not meant to fight. Some of you are inviting the battle into your life by fighting. God wants you to surrender and rest in Him.” Raise the white flag. Don’t engage in warfare. God doesn’t want you to do what he said to do in James 4:7 or in 1Peter or in Ephesians. The armor of God thing…don’t need it. Don’t bother. OK, I’m ranting. The “word” was as unbiblical as it was unhelpful. (And lest I make the same mistake he did by speaking in sweeping generalizations, yes, there are times when we are not to fight, the battle is not ours and we are to express our faith completely by resting in God…and yes, there are times when we cannot fight and need the body of Christ to intervene on our behalf…and yes, fighting is not striving…oh – how we need an intimate walk with Jesus!) As I listened to the man, who is a good man, I asked…”Is this for me, God? Am I taking on battles that aren’t mine to fight?”. No, he says. And then I wondered…where are the people who need to hear a word like this? I haven’t met them. I’ve seen and encountered and experienced a lot of fear and passivity. I haven’t encountered a bunch of warriors out there swinging the sword of the Lord around willy nilly looking for fights that aren’t theirs. But these folks must be out there somewhere because a lot of pastors and teachers are telling them to stop it. The pastor came up after the final song and began to give his very Biblical message. It was about how Jesus’ coming in the manger was actually an invasion. About pulling back the curtain and looking at Revelations and reading the account of the dragon waiting to devour the child. It was about the bigger picture, the larger story, the miraculous breaking into this world. HOORAY! My sons are home for Christmas. This makes a mother’s heart very happy. I am cherishing them and this time. Last night, we went together to see the movie Tron. Spoiler alert! It is a movie about a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue! Sound familiar? It is a story about a Creator and things going wrong, and the battle between good and evil and the good needing to be rescued. The Gospel was in there! Someone knows we are in a battle between good and evil and that we are required to rise up. At the theater, we were sitting behind a row of teenagers. A gaggle of them. About twelve young men and women reeking of marijuana. And I do mean, reeking. I could see them as well taking swigs out of the bottles they brought in knowing they had smuggled in alcohol and my heart broke for them. They were a bit loud. A bit rambunctious. A bit irritating and a bit smelly. I watched the movie but I also watched them. After the movie, I wanted to talk to the young woman sitting in front of me. I lingered. I went to the bathroom. I prayed. I hoped and expected her to come into the bathroom. See, I was once that girl. But the invasion of the kingdom of God broke into my life and I have been rescued. I wanted to tell her that she could be rescued, too! She didn’t come into the bathroom. When I finally came out, there was the whole group of teenagers standing in a circle. My sons were over by the door waiting for me and I hesitated…looked at the group, looked at my sons…and then completely compelled by the love of Christ, I walked up to their circle. “Did you enjoy the movie?”, I asked. Yes, they most emphatically did! I told them that I had been sitting behind them. That I saw and smelled how totally stoned they were…that I saw them drinking too. And then I told them, a few things that I hope will haunt them beautifully. I told them that part of the movie was true. That there is a Creator and his name is Jesus. That I was like them at their age but I had been rescued. That there is another way to live. A better way. That sometime in the future they may remember the words of the crazy lady after the movie…it may come back to them. And I hope they remember the name Jesus and that they are so very deeply loved. They were amazingly silent and sober as I spoke. One young man said thank you before I left with longing in my eyes. Some of them laughed as soon as I got a few steps away. Of course they did! But oh God, may they remember. I don’t do that often. But I pray to do it more. To follow Jesus and obey. To speak what he tells me to speak. To love. To offer. To risk. To invade. See Jesus has passed the baton to us. The scriptures say “And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force. (Matt 11:12). It is an invasion. An invasion is active. An invasion is strong. Yes, the kingdom of God is advancing and the gates of Hell will not prevail against it. But the kingdom of God is not advancing from a silent, surrendered couch. Submit to God. Resist the devil. Take your stand. Fight the good fight. Let the invasion continue. Yes and amen and a happy, holy and merry Christmas to you and yours!
Stasi Eldredge
Christmas, Christmas Time is Here
I had my first Christmas miracle today! I was in and out of the DMV in less than 20 minutes having secured the new license plates I needed! (The originals were stolen off of Sam’s car). I’ve been praying lately that I would see God in new ways. Praying for a spirit of wisdom and revelation to know his love more deeply and truly; to see into the spiritual realm more clearly and to walk with Jesus more intimately. The shortness of the DMV line was a gift. I see that. The heart rocks God continues to shower me with are gifts. I see them as revelations of God’s unconditional love for me. The ease and depth of conversation around the dinner table with my family…love it. Recognize it as a gift from my Father’s hand. Needing to fight for our sleep, love and pray through a weight of oppressive warfare, battle through a pervading sense of disqualification…haven’t seen those as gifts. Standing against the seemingly endless accusation from the enemy; not enjoying that. Needing to call child protective services, listening to my friend cry as she tells me of her husband’s betrayal, learning of the latest drug bust for herion at my son’s school…having trouble recognizing Jesus there. But he is there. Jesus not only reigns. He is reigning. Not only did he live, he is living. He came. He is coming still. Now. Today. In all moments. And soon, He is coming in the moment we are long awaiting…on a powerful white steed, with justice in his heart, and a flaming sword in his hand. Halleluia. Many of those I care for are in times of deep trevail. They are needing to stand against the world’s tide and the enemy’s assault and rely on God in ways that are difficult but ultimately so very good. Gee wiz, we all are, aren’t we? And sometimes, it gets confusing and tiring. But the fruit, oh the fruit, of pressing into Jesus in the midst of the sorrows of life is pure gold. Not only for the good of our own deepening faith but for the fellowship of believers cheering us on and the eyes of the world that are always watching. Like Joseph, we will come to say, the enemy meant it for evil, but our God – the God of the resurrection – meant it for our good and the saving of many lives. The injustices and suffering in the world are beyond vast. Heartbreaking. Overwhelming. Mind boggling. You know this. This earth has deteriorated horrificly. And it was to this world that Jesus came. Thank you God for coming! And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which shall be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born FOR YOU a Savior who is Christ the Lord!”. (Luke 2:10) His coming, his love, his pursuit, his triumph, his great goodness is the Christmas miracle that we celebrate; that opens our eyes, that keeps us breathing and moving forward. And so I decorate my house for Christmas and I still my heart to make room for the Prince of peace who has come and is coming again. I pray. I wait. I yearn. I ache. I hope. I believe. I ask. I seek. I bow. I worship. I surrender. I receive. Come Lord Jesus. Even so.
Stasi Eldredge
Peace with Hormones
Maybe hormones aren’t as bad as I think they are. Maybe they are my friend. I would like to declare a truce, better still, I’d like to make nice. To that end…a little note of appreciation to estrogen, testosterone, and progesterone. The likes of which make me crazy. Sometimes. But maybe I need to be thankful. No, really. Men, you can read this if you want but this baby is for women. Yay women. Go women! I have been getting my period for over forty years now. WHAT?!? Forty years. Geez am I old. Anyway, I have been getting my period since I was eleven years old. So then why am I so surprised when it comes? I have a killer headache for a day or two before the onset of my period. Certain places are tender. I want red meat. Preferably with cheese. Chocolate in large quantities would be good too. I have feelings…emotions…and then woa! OH! Well, that explains a lot. Who knew? Well, for one, my husband knew… When I am near or around, say close to menstruating, the world in general and my world in particular is a dark place. I have no friends, no joy and no hope. These symptoms I have come to recognize at least as passing. I make no huge decisions during these hours. It would be best if I did not come over to your house to your prayer meeting, sales meeting, party, whatever during these hours. I have learned this. But there also is some truth that surfaces in my heart when my hormones are raging. All of my feelings are not false. They are intensified. (This is the making nice, appreciating, hormones-aren’t-so-horrible part.) The injustices of the world beg attention, my attention. I am moved to act. This is when I write the editor or my Compassion child. Writing the oh so belated thank you notes happens now, too. The hurt I feel at being judged and misunderstood by others goes beyond irritation to sorrow. A sorrow that I know I share with every other human being. A sorrow that incites me to pray for others. During this time of the month, the desire I feel inside as a woman for relational intimacy rises and will not be quenched by anything other than relational intimacy. Not red meat. Not chocolate. Not even movie theater popcorn. And this is difficult remember because in these moments I have no friends, no joy, and no hope. During my cycle, I begin to wonder if I am always so self absorbed. Or is it merely my awareness that increases? My hormonal awareness of myself and others. (But mostly of myself…shoot.) It can become a time of grace. Really! It can! Extending it, offering it and receiving it. I turn to Jesus. And where did he go by the way? How far must I cry out for him to hear me? The faithful friend, the companion, the one who is closer than any other sometimes feels so dang far away. And then, hoorah, faith kicks in. Jesus didn’t go anywhere. Whether my estrogen level is off the charts or dipping below the equator, Jesus is right here!!! And HE GETS ME. Perfectly! All the time! He understands. Oh thank God. And he aches too. For me and with me. He feels deeply all the time. ALL THE TIME! Oh, to be that alive! I’m not sure I could take it. But I am growing in taking it. I am alive. With all the emotional roller coaster experiences and deepening faith that that entails. And perhaps I am never more keenly alive than when my hormones are raging. So thank you gang. Really. Truce. Today, right now, I look to Jesus. I ache for him. And I eagerly cry out for his return. Come Lord Jesus! And menopause coming maybe wouldn’t be so bad either. Told you this was for women.
Stasi Eldredge
Scoreboard!
A good friend of mine's son (let's call him Andy) is an excellent soccer player. He's gifted, he's talented and he works really, really hard at it. He began playing on local leagues as soon as he could run and boy howdy can this young man run! Andy's on the high school team now - a key player leading their team to play stronger and more consistently than in several years. You get the picture. This guy is good. At a recent game, the opponent (on Team B, for bad guys) directly facing Andy had a brilliant strategy to discourage him. Though Team B was losing and losing badly (9- 1), the player was hurling taunts endlessly at Andy. "You're not playing very well." "You're an embarrassment to your team." "Your coach is mad at you." "Your coach is going to take you out." On and on it went. Andy's response? He would say, "Scoreboard." That was his only reply to his opponent. Scoreboard. Look at the scoreboard. We are winning. Your words don't change that reality and they won't change that reality. I've got nothing to say to you. Andy had to stay strong in the game. He later confessed that staying in the truth was a battle. Rejecting the opponent's accusation and focusing on what was before him required both determination and stamina. Sound familiar? Our opponent is tireless at hurling accusations at us; at taunting us. "You're not doing this very well." "You're an embarrassment to the Body of Christ." "God is mad at you." "You're disqualified." On and on it can go. Our response is not to take in the accusation or even engage in the dialogue but just to say, "Look at the Cross". Jesus has won it all. For me. I am in Him. I am loved. I am secure. I am forgiven. Always. (THANK YOU,GOD!) Or else, maybe the next time the enemy's accusation comes our way, we can just say, "Scoreboard!".
Stasi Eldredge