Stasi's Blog
It's in the Details
Last weekend was a Captivating retreat up at Frontier Ranch in Buena Vista, Colorado. It was, in every possible and impossible way, simply beautiful. God is SO faithful! Oh, how he loves it when his women pay such a cost in time, money, effort, battle...to gather to seek his heart. And he comes! He came gently, powerfully, heavily. And he came intimately. I'm just getting some stories in now...one woman whose favorite breakfast is french toast asked God if he would give her a special love gift of french toast for breakfast. How she smiled Sunday morning when she came in to the dining room to plates overflowing with french toast. Another woman was being wooed by Jesus to remember how close they had once been - how sweet their relationship - and inviting her back to his heart when we played her all time favorite worship song that held memories dear to her heart of her Lord. A song she hadn't heard in years. She wept. Actually, there are hundreds of stories. Literally. Women who so deeply longed to hear the voice of God in their spirit - and did. Felt his deep affection. Encountered his love. Worshipped him with a passion, intimacy and sweetness they had never experienced before. Will never be the same. He came for me in heart rocks. He's been wonderfully extravagant with them! He even gave me a heart cloud with wings on either side of it! I love how personal, how sweet his gifts to us are. How is he coming to you? Ask the Holy Spirit to open your eyes to see and receive his loving pursuit - his intimate gifts, just for you. He is a God of details. :-)
Stasi Eldredge
A Convalescent Hospital
My husband’s father is in a convalescent hospital. He believes he is at home. Believing this puts his heart at rest. I just got back from spending a week visiting Bob. John’s mom was on a much needed respite and well, it’s a long story but for part of the time, to put her own heart at ease, she needed me to come. Visit Bob. Play cards. Water her plants. Bring in her paper. Make sure he was okay. I was so happy to be able to do a little something for her but honestly, a bit apprehensive about my time with Bob; aka Robert, Papa, Mr. Eldredge. Would he know who I was? This man who has greeted me for the last thirty years with “Hello Gorgeous!” regardless of my appearance? Probably not. My time was hard, good, painful, exhausting, poignant and holy. We did play cards. We did puzzles. One day I fed him lunch and on another day he knew who I was. There were some tricky moments involving the toilet. There were times when he asked, “What do I do now?” and times when he winked at me mischievously over a good poker hand. My heart broke. I don’t think you can visit a convalescent hospital and not have your heart break. I was in awe of the care givers…of the friends and relatives of other patients that were there when I came and still there when I left. I was grieved by the loss…of vitality, communication, health, memory. And I was keenly aware of what was not lost. Dignity. In Bob’s most vulnerable moments, he possessed his dignity. The same dignity I saw and felt in every single person there – patient and health worker and visitor alike. Regardless of their state. There is something precious about being in need. Something intangibly good about serving one who is in need. My father in law lives for now in a little hospital in a quiet neighborhood filled with sparsely decorated rooms furnished with hospital beds and wheelchairs, where most of the “tenants” will never leave. It is a home turned hospital where confusion resides next to suffering and soft food is served with mercy. I am so thankful to have had the time with him. I am utterly spent from it. And I was only there 8 days. Now I know a bit better how to pray.
Stasi Eldredge
The End of Summer
“Love to you as you embrace and mourn your changes today.” This was the closing sentence to a little note I received via email today. It caught me. Yes. That is what I want and need to do. I can’t pretend the changes aren’t happening. I don’t want to refuse them and lose what God has for me. But I do mourn them. I am both sad and grateful. The end of summer brings with it not only back to school sales, an abundance of grasshoppers and the final burst of glory via the prolific sunflowers that fill every open space but many goodbyes. I do not like goodbyes. Not at all. I like hellos. To me, one of the pleasures of Heaven is that it will be one big HELLO! No separations of any kind ever again. I just returned home from driving our second son, Blaine, off to college. Our oldest, Sam, left a few weeks ago as he is a senior now and a Resident Assistant this year and had training to attend. An earlier goodbye. I didn’t even cry. I’m getting better at this (I thought). I didn’t cry when I said goodbye to Blaine either! I think it helped both of them to be free from feeling that their growing up is causing their mother pain. But I will confess that when I left him and went inside my hotel room, I collapsed on the floor and sobbed. For quite a while. Pictures flashed through my mind of my sons in elementary school – in class photos – during family hikes – laughing – even some hard moments. Tow headed. Curly headed. Little boys. I am not the mother of little boys any more. My sons are young men. All three of them. And I love them. And I am grateful to God both for who they are and for who they are becoming. I am actually glad for them and the season of life that they are in. But dang. Oh just to be able to hold on to a moment for longer than a moment. I was intentional this summer to be present to the moment. To be here. To be here now and to drink it all in. That was a good choice. Even so, I am increasingly looking forward to Heaven…to time out of time, to no separation, no misunderstanding, no disunity, and no more goodbyes. But for now, I bless my sons. And I’m going to cry a little bit more. And yes, embrace and mourn my changes today.
Stasi Eldredge
Grace
"I will sing of your love and justice; to you, O LORD, I will sing praise. I will be careful to lead a blameless life - when will you come to me? I will walk in my house with a blameless heart." Psalm 101:1,2 I want to lead a blameless life. I want to live a life of love. I want Jesus. I want to love him and carry his love to every single person in my life. In my house. In my work. In my grocery store. But guess what? I'm not. Dang. I was pondering the above verses the other morning and feeling hopeless. Helpless. Even when I try to live well and walk with God, I don't do it perfectly. (What? You, too?) I fail people. They get hurt. So then what? Beyond asking for forgiveness and accepting the reality that I have clay feet...then what? What do I do with the sorrow inside? The answer once again is found in Jesus. The hope of Jesus Christ. He is blameless. He is perfect. He loves well and perfectly and with cunning and wisdom and untold magnificence one hundred percent of the time. 100%. Holy. Always! And he is the only one. As a believer, I can imagine the arrows of accusation coming against my heart - the accusation that is fueled by the enemy and wholly untrue AND the accusation that may be fueled by the enemy but is founded in reality - and picture them passing by me and going straight into the cross. Jesus paid for that too. He knows. He took care of that. He is not turning his face away...ever. There is mercy. There is grace. It's so good to offer it to ourselves. AND to offer it to the people who fail us - or those we love. To choose to obey Christ and think the best of others. To pray blessing and favor and more of Jesus for everyone. Those we hurt. Those who hurt us or others. For ourselves. I am humbled and grateful. I will get it right one day...perfectly. When I am transformed perfectly into the image of my King. That is my destiny and it is yours. And we are on our way. Thank you, Jesus. Please come.
Stasi Eldredge
Happy Summer!
In Colorado Springs, Winter has finally and fully yielded to Summer. The leaves (and yes, there are leaves) are countless shades of green. The hillsides are offering up their secrets of wild irises, Indian paintbrush, blooming mustard, wild geraniums, blue bells, cornflowers, snapdragons and wild roses in an explosion of intricate beauty. Oh my. I am so grateful. It’s real. It’s true. It is not going to last forever but it is going to last for several soul nourishing months! My sons have returned home from college from what was often a grueling year on many levels. Our youngest son’s last day of high school was yesterday and oh – the relief! Like Winter giving way to Summer, their lives have breathing room again. Hope rises. Moments of rest are coming. Time to listen, really listen to the wind in the trees and maybe even discern animals in the clouds. Conversations can linger longer outside without the threat of a paper due or a test in the morning. As much as possible, I too will unplug. I love summer. It’s absolutely my favorite season. A taste of Heaven. Just a taste, I know but a taste still and one I want to savor. The world does not stop turning though. A close relative is very ill. A good friends’ marriage is in worse trouble than anyone could have guessed. Personally, I received eight crisis calls this past week. Dear friends. Different dear friends calling with a dire SOS. No, the world does not stop turning. But in the midst of the mess and sadness and trial and grief and difficulty, the world is blooming; reminding us all of what is most true. I forget. We all forget. But may the seasonal grace given to us in the beauty of a summer thunderstorm and the flight of an emerald hummingbird serve to remind us that we are not alone. That we are LOVED. That Jesus has made every provision for us. That he is indeed reaching to each one of us with his mercy and grace and strength and being more than enough for every part of us at every turn and moment of our lives. That Jesus is present so there is beauty and life and love and joy in the moment. And immeasurably more – coming. Yesterday I had the supreme pleasure of brushing my friend’s little girl’s long blonde hair. I took my time and she let me. While brushing, the song “I Am” by Jill Phillips began to play over the stereo – a personal favorite of mine. I began to sing as I brushed: Oh gently lay your head Upon my chest And I will comfort you as a mother While you rest….. For I am constant I am near I am peace that comforts All your secret fears… A song about the mothering heart of God. Offering rest, grace, understanding and mercy. As I sang, I flashed to the memory of singing this very song to my friend at her baby shower as we celebrated this coming daughter. Now six years later, I am singing it to her little girl. I realized I had stumbled into a holy moment. The veil became thin as I breathed in the presence of eternity. The presence of Love. May this summer hold for you and I and ours many moments of beauty and rest and joy. May the eternal break into all of our mundane. May we all grow in recognizing the beauty and the presence and the power of Jesus in the midst of our lives while they shower us with fragrant blooms or, as they will, with difficulties. And may you take every opportunity to lay your head upon his chest and allow God to comfort you like a mother while you rest. Happy Summer. Happy Summer indeed!
Stasi Eldredge
Bills Schmills
I realized something today. It was after I stopped moving the three envelopes around on the counter and opened them and in a moment of rare swift decision, paid the three bills. Wow. Just like that. Took care of them. I was on a role, feeling quite good about myself so bboldly, I went to my bill pile (hidden in the laundry room in a decorative bread basket) and emptied the pile on top of the washing machine. Man! What is it with these things? I think they multiply when I turn off the lights. But today, I was not dissuaded by the sheer number of them. I picked up the top envelope, opened it and marched right to the computer and paid it on line. I even recorded it in the check register and put it in its very own file. So uncharacteristically organized of me! Amazing! But I looked again at the bill pile and realized that they all needed attention. Again. There is the utility bill, the phone bill, the cellular phone bill, several mystery medical bills...I just paid them last month and here they are again clamoring for attention. Unsatisfied. They want more. Why is it never enough with these, these, these invasions to my life? I know. It's time to reveal my realization. The way I feel about bills goes way beyond irritation and anxiety. The truth is, I am personally offended by them. They make me feel like I am not doing enough. I am failing. I am affronted by them! Yes, little phone bill, I spent a lot of time with you just recently and what, you're back?! You want some more from me? I'm not doing enough? Why do you keep coming? Leave me alone! Two months ago our phone was turned off. Woops. I was really, really late in retrieving the pile from the bread basket. These guys are relentless. Yah, they sent the colored bills. Yes, I got the phone message. But I deleted it without really listening to it. I did pay attention when I didn't get a dial tone. Used my cell to call home and got the "temporarily disconnected" message. Then I hustled to retrieve and open and thank you Jesus that I could, pay the bill. The thing is, they are not an insult. Getting a bill in the mail is not the same thing as a nasty letter sent home from a teacher to my parents tattling on me. They are just an annoying part of life. I like switching on the light in my room. I'm tying by it now. Shoot - I'm typing...plugged in at this very moment. Little marvelous conveniences that I take for granted and every single month of the year have to pay for. And they are not a sentence on my life either. When I can pay them and when I can't. When I'm on time and when I'm late. They are just bills. And man, is there a big ole huge pile of them on my washing machine right now. Multiplying I'm sure, at this very moment. But they lost some of their power today. Power I didn't even know I had given them. Because over the silent demand of "pay me now" came the Holy Spirit with his fabulous perception and truth and remembrance; revealing once again where my identity lies and who has the power to tell me who I am and how I'm doing. And that all is well. All manner of things are well. Pile or no pile.
Stasi Eldredge
A Thank You to Life Givers
The Pastor's Wifeby Sabina Wurmbrand: (speaking of time in a Romanian prison camp) "So we argued the night away. The prisoners murmured and grimaced in their sleep. Names were muttered, or cried aloud; of children, fathers, lovers, friends. But most often, the word 'Mother!' Age and class had lost all meaning as they dreamt, and the soul in distress whispered from its depths the old cry. It went deeper than a simple appeal to one's own parent. It was a cry for the eternal female tenderness and motherly care which exists for us in heaven." Happy Mother's Day all. This is a shout out to women everywhere. All of you! Being a mother is a glorious, amazing, exhausting thing. A great gift. And though not all women are mothers, ALL women are life givers. Really. The look in your eye. The thoughtful remark. The kind gesture. The fierce strength on behalf of others. The heart you carry. It all brings LIFE. Life to a needy soul and a weary world. Life to ministries, creative works, businesses, missions, relationships, and people. Every woman is an image bearer of our Life Giving God. I have benefited so much and so many times from the gentle and strong offerings of life from women. I just returned from the grocery store and while there ran into a neighbor from eight years ago. Such a pleasure to catch up...so happy. She brought me delight! Such a simple thing. Got home to a phone call from a woman friend who's poor health and handicaps keep her shut in for most of her hours. She's in pain but offers me and others mercy. Love. Encouragement to be aware and grateful for each moment of our lives. Two life givers in twenty minutes! Hooray! My mother was a life giver. Oh, I wish I had had the eyes to see and the heart to appreciate all that she did and spent on and for me while she was still alive. I lay in bed last night just remembering - and thanking God - and looking forward to the day that is coming when I will look her in the eyes again and be able to truly say, "Thank you, Mom". I ramble. But I ramble with a grateful heart. Bless you women of God. May you know his pleasure and delight for the myriad and countless ways you are bringing HIM to others. They may not thank you. Not yet. But God sees. And on behalf of him and the ones in your life, thank you. Happy Mother's Day.
Stasi Eldredge
Calling all Bloggers!
Hi friends, Wanted to let you know that our ministry would love to have our faithful allies out there who blog take a few minutes and write a blog and an amazon.com review on Love and War. Also, we are giving away a FREE copy of Love and War to the first 500 bloggers to respond! If you have interest in receiving a free copy of Love and War, click here! Some of you have already blogged on it and I want to say THANK YOU! We want to get the word out so marriages can be strengthened and encouraged and become all God and we want them to! Oh, this is a good journey to be on. So, happy blogging!
Stasi Eldredge
Ageless
In a nearby neighborhood, hidden around the corner of the Walgreens and tucked in behind the Methodist church are stables for boarding horses. I had lived here for fifteen years before knowing they existed. The stables are old, worn and border the last working cattle ranch inside the city limits of Colorado Springs. We board two horses there – Kokolo (a beautiful paint) and Whistle (a gorgeous bay). John grew up spending summers on his grandfather’s ranch and having horses of his own was a lifelong dream. Our middle son Blaine, entered the world with a love of horses, drawing them repeatedly ever since he could hold a crayon and saving every bit of money earned or given to him since he was five years old to buy one of his own. Whistle is John’s horse. Kokolo is Blaine’s. But as goes the way of the world and schedules and growing up and life, the #1 caregiver of these horses is yours truly. What God has taught me and done in my heart over these last six years with and through horses is the stuff of Heaven. I will not write of those deep matters now. But of this… Last week, I was bringing Kokolo in from the field when I saw on the other end of the stables a young child. The child looked about eight years old and was standing on a log watching me, then moved over to look out at a horse in an adjacent field. After putting Kokolo in his stall, I walked around to where the child was and saw only another woman, older than myself, standing at the gate, gazing out at her horse grazing. We greeted each other and then I asked, “Is there a child with you?” I looked around, seeing and hearing no one else. “I saw a little person over here.” She said, “No. There’s no one else here.” Oh! I was confused. What? “Well, I guess you are the little person!” She commented it that it had been quite a while since she had been called that. I went into the tack room to get grain and oats for the horses. The room is dark and smells of hay, leather and feed. Everything is covered with a thick layer of dirt. I adore it. Suddenly, the woman is in the room with me. There is an eagerness about her. She’s followed me in there to talk. Well, this is new, I think. She asks me about church and where I go and tells me where she goes then confesses that recently she was telling God she didn’t think she could do it anymore. I ask, do what? Church? Or life? Life she said. I nod. Say I understand. Then, she begins to tell me of meeting a man through a friend. A Christian man. A man slightly older than herself. A single man. A potentially good man. Husband material. Ah ha! A light comes into her eyes and there is the little person. She isn’t 64 years old. She is 8. Or 16. She is hope reborn. She is the possibility of being loved and loving. She is beautiful. She could have done spinning twirls in the field and I would have joined her. She is giddy and makes me giddy. I shout my prayers on her behalf up to the clouds and we laugh. I know beauty is ageless. I know that though our outer man is decaying our inner man is being renewed day by day. I know God has set eternity in our hearts. I know that nothing makes a woman blossom like love. I just forgot. We are forever young. It was a joyous thing to remember.
Stasi Eldredge
A Fragrant Offering
Oh dear. I just got home from a family rest time during spring break. So wonderful. I had down time – actual true down time so had asked for book recommendations from friends. I’m a fiction girl primarily – needed a good story. Got some good recommends but as I had a lot of time, I ran out. Luke and I went to a bookstore to pick up a couple more each and after reading the cover, I bought, “The Girl Who Played with Fire” – the sequel to “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”. Not about vampires or witchcraft or werewolves…a mystery…a spy novel it said. OK then. Oh dear. About thirty years ago, our pastor gave a sermon warning us about the dangers of television. He was saying that watching just anything on it was like opening up a sewer pipe right into your home. THIRTY years ago! And what is it like now? When sex scenes, same sex scenes, murder, witchcraft, reality shows that manipulate and oh ….it’s getting worse. Ok, back to the much hailed, NY Times bestseller book. Well written - yes. Godless – yes. But even worse. At the beginning of the book the young 25ish woman heroine has a sexual liaison with a 16 year old boy for about 6 weeks. This is presented as a neutral thing. No, a good thing. Then the book turns to be about uncovering a sex trafficking ring back in Sweden. We are supposed to be shocked about the girls brought in for prostitution – ages 15 to 20. (We are shocked. Grieved.) But wait…what? It’s okay for a 25 year old woman to have sex with a 16 year old boy? What if it had been a 25 year old man with a 16 year old girl? The book continues…she meets up with an old girlfriend. Girl friend. And though the author does not go into sex details – they have their affair. Or maybe he does go into details. I don’t know. This is the point when the much hailed book went flying across the room. What are we reading? What are we watching? It MATTERS! What has become normal to our depraved, godless, searching, deceived, aching, fallen world? What has become normal to me? To you? Our last night away, our family went out to dinner to a hibachi restaurant. John had spent much time online researching a nice place to go and had chosen this. I was a little surprised. I think they’re fun and all but wasn’t so much in the mood to have dinner with a group of strangers. Hibachi restaurants are the ones with the grill in the center and the cooking, chopping, grilling is done miraculously, entertainingly in front of you. We were a party of 3. We would be sharing our table. (OK, sharing a table can be fun but honestly my last time at one of these restaurants was a surreal experience having been taken there by my well meaning aunt just hours after my mother passed away. The erupting onion volcano was lost on me. But that is another story.) So, we get there and are ushered to our table. We sit down. We are joined after a bit by a family of 5. The daughter sits next to me (18 years old), her fiancé next to her, then the younger brother and around the corner the parents. Hellos are exchanged. Then the fiancé and the girl begin to make out. Not just kiss. Make out. I mean it. At the table. In front of us. Did I mention the parents are sitting right there? Oh dear. We are stunned. What does one do? Say? John jokingly suggests they get a room. He then proceeds to engage them in conversation every time they begin to make out. Lots of conversation. We are looking forward to the food being served so they have something else to do with their mouths. John talks with the Dad about Wild at Heart…the evening progresses. I spend a bit of time talking with this little engaged girl with chipped blue nail polish on and she begins to tell me about a book she is writing. It’s about the end of the world. Well, not the end of the world, really, no. It’s about forgetting. People have all forgotten. I’m wondering what have they forgotten? Mores? Manners? Propriety? Holiness? ACK! Actually, I found the idea very interesting. Biblical even. Later, between embarrassingly long kisses…she confides in me that she thinks the world is getting worse. She’s 18. It is getting worse. But I’m kind of surprised that she has noticed. So, we hurry through our dinner…and when we get up to leave, John goes over to the parents…words are exchanged, book titles written down and the girl gets up to hug me good bye. Hug me goodbye? Just a snippet of our time. Just a few moments shared. Just me shaking my head and asking God, how am I supposed to live? And all at once I hear him. As salt and light. Being in the world but not of the world. Being intoxicatingly different. Fragrantly alluring. Unafraid and unabashed ofnot fitting in with the world and not sliding down the slippery slope but seeing it, recognizing it and offering a different way. Offering The Way. Offering Love. Offering Jesus. I need a new book.
Stasi Eldredge
Body, Soul and Spirit!
The pace and the demands and the cares of life really seem too much for a person to handle; too much for me to handle. At least to handle well. Is this a new development, the fruit of living in a high tech, instant messaging, be connected with everyone, take the freeway, drive thru, microwave world? Or is this a fact of the human condition?. Both I think. We need Jesus. People need God. We always have. We always will. The pace and demands and cares of my life keep me from staying current with friends, bills, blogging, laundry and toilet paper. Yay that God is always, ALWAYS present and current and more than enough for all of us. I’ve been thinking about so many things lately, it’s hard to choose what to write about! How about the importance of realizing that we are body, soul and spirit. Each part matters. Intrinsically. Deeply. To God. To us. When we as people focus on one aspect as being much more important than another, we get stuck, we miss out, we get out of whack. Which means that we are usually, to some extent, always out of whack. Because we are continuing to grow in our wisdom and understanding and that is a very good thing! So hooray for grace. For ourselves. For others. There is mercy. Some in Christianity focus primarily on the soul. To the neglect of the spirit. Some in Christianity focus on the spirit to the extent that they diminish the soul. Some focus primarily on the body – and really get into trouble. Our bodies are vitally important. They are the temple of the Holy Spirit. Our bodies are God’s instrument of choice to bring himself. Our bodies matter! Our health matters. Our vitality, our strength, our rest, our taking care of ourselves. Our bodies are a great gift to us! Our souls matter. Our personalities and style of relating and emotions and minds and wills. God is transforming us. We want to cooperate here! We need to be self aware which is quite different from being self absorbed. God loves people. He likes variety and gave us emotions and laughter and love and desire and the ability to seek him. Our emotions are not meant to rule us nor torment us but they are a part of us! I like being happy much more than I like being sad but I wouldn’t give one up for the other. We are alive! This is the realm of friendship and relationships and the working out of our salvation! Does not God care immeasurably about these things? We do not want to neglect our souls! The spirit is where we are most connected to God in the Heavenly realms! We hear the voice of God, feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit, worship, pray, experience his presence and power in and through our spirits! We live in the natural realm but we live in the spiritual realm as well. The spiritual realm is the eternal one! The battle we are in is a spiritual one. Our spirits need to be quickened, awakened to the constant presence of the Holy Spirit – so that we can bring the Kingdom of God to this world of ours! How vitally important is that? Oh, there are many books to be read and written on this. We are an odd people, we humans. We are mysteriously made. Wonderfully. Beautifully. And God does not despise our humanity. He loves it. All of it.
Stasi Eldredge
Limping
I’m walking the dog this morning, trying to pray, when the memory comes suddenly and powerfully to my mind of being deeply hurt and misunderstood by a friend. And as if that isn’t enough, there is also the memory of deeply hurting her. This is an old memory. Here it comes again. Sheesh. Now there has been healing and forgiveness here and Jesus is the Lord of both of us. But the work is not yet complete. I wonder, will it ever be? Or is this sorrow just part of my story now, an addition to my already visible limp? Yah, I think it is. I will carry this with me. I pray to learn all God has to teach me through this experience and to know his healing and freedom even more deeply than I do today. And honestly, I know it more today than I did even last month! God is so very good, so very faithful, so perfectly trustworthy. I believe more healing is available. I believe God can and will remove the sting of death from every memory, from every painful experience. But I also believe that ultimate, total, complete and perfect healing will not come until I see Jesus face to face. And that’s okay. It causes me to lean into my King. In the meantime, I have a choice to make. Daily. Oh, more than daily. And it goes beyond the choice to forgive myself and others. It is a choice to love. Or not. I think of a friend whose deep betrayal by her ex-husband has dealt a merciless blow to her ability trust men. Make that to trust, period. I think of God, who was betrayed by the angels when they chose Satan over him. How badly did that hurt? I think again of God who gave us the free will to choose against him and the countless millions of times we all, beginning with Adam and Eve have chosen against him; betrayed his heart. And yet, God continues to love. To stay in. To pursue. To offer. To invite. To desire. So, is that just because he’s God and God is Love and he can’t help himself? Well that would make it easier for him wouldn’t it? Isn’t it easier for him? But then I thought about how mad he can get. And how really, you don’t want to get him mad. Think volcanoes erupting and fiery hailstorms and Jesus returning with his robe dipped in blood. And I remembered that Abraham talked God out of destroying Sodom and Gomorrah unconditionally. How God says himself that he has changed his mind. Many times. That he would like to react in anger sometimes too, but then, thinks better of it and chooses to stay in. Chooses to love. And so, because I am his and he is mine and because the resurrection is real and Jesus can and will and does live his life through me, I can choose to love again too. I can risk friendship and being hurt and misunderstood. I won’t walk around expecting it to happen but not be doe eyed shocked if it does. I will entrust myself to God. I will grow in fully trusting Jesus, my truest Friend. And I can choose to trust those God tells me to trust. I will limp. But I will limp, with God, and by his grace, choose an open heart.
Stasi Eldredge
Beauty
Some things can be measured scientifically. Weight. Height. Even the fact that infants respond more to a woman's smile than a man's...All kinds of things can be measured. But how do you measure the fragrance of a woman? The beauty of a comforting touch? Tears of empathy? Eyes that welcome, accept...love? How can you quantify the sound of a laugh that makes you feel to your bones that all is right with the world? How can you possibly dissect beauty? That would be like pinning a dead butterfly to a board. What would you know of its flight or what is drawn from the human heart while watching it move? We know it when we see it. We truly see it when we experience it. We experience it when that part of us that is most truly us sighs in our soul's deepest recesses and connects with the heart of our God in rest. In thankfulness. In joy. Outward beauty is a thing that can be measured only when we accept the standards of measurement. Youth passes - so youthful beauty fades. Wrinkles are around my eyes. Yours too most likely. Laugh lines are earned! Gravity takes its toll but who wants to live in a cage; fearful of the ravages of time? Life is to be lived. Beauty, true beauty INCREASES! It increases as it is offered, shared and spent on others. It increases as our eyes open to the beauty surrounding us in God's creation and in each and every one of his image bearers. It grows as Jesus captures more of our hearts and we are transformed into his very likeness. Who can measure the beauty of a sunset? Of a nursing mother? Of the Living God? Of you? No one. Beauty is a mystery to be embraced and enjoyed and received and owned. God says you are beautiful. More beautiful than any other thing in all creation. And, well, he ought to know.
Stasi Eldredge
Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig
What a whirlwind my life has been these last two months! Traveling for a variety of reasons culminated in traveling for the Love and War tour. Goodness, it was quite a schedule. It was exhausting, demanding and difficult. It was also glorious, fun and an immense honor! Oh, the best part was meeting the men and women who wanted to have their book signed at the end of the evening. Getting to meet, look into their eyes and chat briefly was just so great! I was meeting my brothers and sisters who are on this journey with me, who I’ll know well in Heaven, but getting to meet them on this side. YAY! Thank you to all of you who came. What a privilege it was for John and I to have been able to come. But I am home now. Big sigh. Home for a month before traveling again and I am so thankful! Today, I planned out the meals for a whole week – breakfast, lunch and dinner – (yes, be amazed), then made my grocery list and actually went out and purchased it. It took four trips to unload the car and half of the groceries are still on the kitchen counter but I feel so very accomplished! When I am rested, I am so much more organized. I am also such a nicer person. This morning, I ventured out into the snowy twenty-degree weather and took our dog for a walk while I talked with God. Oban (our dog) was so happy, running along with his nose in the snow. On the way back home, we passed my neighbor’s who also have a golden retriever who loves playing with our dog. They’re kind of like cousins. Anyway, as I’m passing their house, I think about inviting her over for coffee. We gave the couple Love and War for Christmas and it would be good to talk…but honestly, I haven’t had the energy to pursue anyone for quite a while. It felt so good to be thinking about pursuing our neighbors again! So, I’m passing the house when she emerges to let out her dog and invite ours over to romp. Then, since I have the time and the space, I was able to “hang out” and talk (inside) while the dogs raced around in the snow. YAY! I’m back. Now to pace myself. I can hear Jesus saying, "Walk with Me". Yes, Lord.
Stasi Eldredge
Be My Valentine!
Growing up, I loved Valentine’s Day! I liked decorating a shoe box to hold my classmates mandatory valentine’s that were sure to come during the party held at school that afternoon. I loved coming in from recess and finding a pretty napkin with a heart shaped cookie on it. (These were the days before mention of peanut allergies, wheat allergies, dairy allergies, or a personal conviction against holidays.) It was a welcome break from the monotony of the normal school day. Hooray! When I would get home from school, my mom would have made a special dessert – something pink and pretty. And on my bed would be a card from her – and a little gift; like a new pair of socks or a pretty pen. Her card would have shimmer to it. I loved the sparkly writing and the beauty of her handwriting. “I love you!” – Mom. My sons call Valentine’s Day “Single Awareness Day” and my husband hates the pressure to come through with some record breaking day of romantic bliss. I don’t care. I still love it. When my sons were in grade school I would go ALL OUT decorating for it the night before while they slept. We’re talking large red cupids, red, pink and white hearts – and yes streamers! Yes to the pretty dessert and valentine’s cards. And pink breakfasts. Ok, was I trying to recapture something here from my childhood. Yes. But sooo? I don’t like so much going out to dinner with John on Happy Heart Day, though. I feel the pressure to be amazing and beautiful and sit up straight and hold my knife and fork just so and it’s kind of distracting. And detracting. For the past few years, John and I either eat something special at home (with attendant sons) or go out on another night! But back to loving Valentine’s Day. Back to embracing the pink and the doilies and the heart shaped everything…. To me, it’s a day to celebrate all those I love. Yes, my husband. Absolutely my children. But my wonderful girlfriends too. With the silly joy of it! The sparkly shimmer of it! Hooray for Love! I’ve wanted to have an all girls Valentine’s Day Party for so long. Sadly, it’s a busy time of year and the desire remains unfulfilled. But it would be very schmaltzy and rosy and delicious and girly. And we would laugh and eat and drink and be merry and worship. Worship our Truest Valentine. Worship Love Himself. Worship Jesus. Thank Him for pursuing us, for choosing us, for romancing us, for loving us. So all by myself, I am going to do that part at least. We could all do that part! And eat something pink! And heart shaped. Happy Valentine’s Day! You are so very loved. XOX
Stasi Eldredge
Matters of the Minor and the Major
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” Martin Luther King, Jr. John and I just returned from the first half – first leg, if you will, of our Love and War tour. And what an honor. Really. To speak about things that matter. Our marriages. Our hearts. Our God. JESUS. And to have the opportunity to meet so many of my brothers and sisters this side of Heaven! To look into their eyes and see the life of Jesus or the hunger for Jesus. Desperate hearts. Grateful hearts. Hopeful hearts. The hearts of men and women engaged in the most important battle on earth. Fighting for their spouse, their children, their friends, their own hearts…fighting with God for the good. For what matters. Our first stop was Abilene, Texas! Once we landed, we saw a large private jet being loaded with boxes upon boxes. Then we saw many pairs of new crutches going onto the plane. That’s when we guessed the plane was headed to Haiti. We were right. We got home late yesterday afternoon and we weren’t home long before our youngest son, Luke asked permission to go out. He wanted to go to a concert given by a friend at a local coffee shop. They were taking donations; raising money for a ministry in Uganda that helps to rescue women and girls being trafficked in the sex trade. Yes, Luke. You bet. You can go. Money’s in my wallet. Drive safe. I am being struck again by the major and minor themes of life. Suffering. Anguish. Pain. Death. Destruction. The enemy. Yes, true enough and strong. But the minor theme. My eyes are opened again to Mercy. Generosity. Healing. Love. Forgiveness. Hope. Tenderness. Life. Resurrection. Jesus. The major theme. Love conquers all. Life conquers death. Jesus conquered the enemy. We are more than conquerors in Him. What a great gift to be alive in Christ, to have his life and his love pour through us, to live for Him, to offer Jesus. What an amazing thing it is to live a life that matters.
Stasi Eldredge