living holy week all year.

Well, after a bit of hiatus, I'm back to waiting.
I've found myself sitting at a coffee shop in KC after being dropped off by one ride and waiting for another to take me back to Minnesota.  My ride here had to go to work.  My ride from here wasn't planning to meet me for awhile, so here I am.  Waiting.

I don't mind it.  I smile...it brings me back to what God is teaching me.  Besides, it's kind of nice having blocked out time for solitude.  I also enjoyed some down time at the same cafe on the way here for before Easter.  And as I think about it, I can't help but think how appropriate it is.

It doesn't really get much air time in Scripture, but waiting was a big part of the Passion and Easter story.  From Good Friday to Easter Sunday, Jesus' friends were waiting.  Check it out.

Luke says: 
It was Preparation Day. The Sabbath was about to begin.  The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph. They saw the tomb and how Jesus' body was placed in it.  Then they went home. There they prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath day in order to obey the Law. (Luke 23:54-56)


I don't really think they really got the fact that they were waiting for the resurrection.  Jesus tried to explain it, but still, here we find the disciples hiding in fear for three days.  The disciples were hiding, waiting for resolution.  The women were waiting for Sabbath/Passover to end so they could go anoint Jesus' Body.  Now that their Messiah was dead and the hope that they were looking for died, they were waiting for what would happen next.  Regardless of what they would've liked to do, it was the Sabbath.  They had to be still and wait in accordance with the Jewish law.  The women were eager to go to Jesus' body.  So eager that they prepared everything before the Sabbath, so they could leave right away when it broke.  Until then, though, they could do nothing.  No funeral ceremonies or preparations.  No making casseroles for the bereaved family or picking hymns.  No ordering flowers.  They had to wait.  Waiting was and is difficult.

The three days.  It's the down time between death and new life.  It's often where we live now--experiencing the effects of brokenness and not yet in the full resurrection that is coming.  Jesus saying to us: "Wait.  There's nothing you can do.  Let me make all things new.  Let me show my glory."  Boy, did he.  In a way those women could've never imagined (see stones will roll for more on that story).

And as I sit here waiting, I wonder if it could be beneficial to us to live life in a Holy Week cycle. 

Without being a Debbie downer, I'll be honest.  In my world (and if you're honest, in your world), Good Friday looms all year round.  Every time I get dropped off by someone I love, it's a little Good Friday.  It hurts.  Friends experience difficult times.  Death happens.  Great experiences come to an end.  Good Friday keeps popping up.

But Good Friday always gives way to a victorious Sunday.  Jesus comes and does make all things new.

My days, weeks, months, and years are filled with glimpses of Easter.  Creation is so excited with new life that it can't be contained!  Take a new day, for example.  It's a new chance for life.  A new shot at living life to the full and bringing life to others.  Every time I get picked up by someone I love, it's a little Easter.  New life is breathed into me.  New opportunity.  New fun and stories.  A new journey.

From something dead comes life.  That's Easter, people.  It's all around us.  I  pray that God would give us eyes that eagerly look for Easter when hints of Good Friday loom.  That we would have hearts that can't help but wait to see Christ glorified in darkness.  In times of death and brokenness, we would see it as another opportunity for Christ to bring His resurrection to life in our lives.  God help us to trust the end of the story.  Give us lives of hope--hope knowing that death couldn't hold You.  Hope that promises in all things You're working for Your glory and our good.  Help us not to be stuck on Good Friday, but excited for Sunday.  You're good, Lord.  Thanks for Sunday.  Thank you that we have something sure that we're waiting for--that we can live in Your Holy Week.

lessons in waiting (this post is brought to you by Black Friday)

Feel free to judge away, but I'm a Black Friday shopper. For the longest time, I didn't know the difference between Good Friday and Black Friday, but it's become a tradition for some of the ladies in my family. We're not super intense, but we do get up pretty early and have vague plan for what stores we're heading for and items we have our eyes out for. It's just a fun time for us. Similar to hunting I presume--both activities have much opposition. I understand the disgust with our society's obsession with consumerism, if that's where you sit--not arguing that, but that's another post for another blog. Anyway...

There were sleeping bags left laying outside of one store, along with trash and obvious remnants that someone had spent a fair amount of time treating the sidewalk as their own personal campsite. My first purchase of the day was a $1.99 DVD from Walmart and I waited about 20 minutes in line to pay for that one measly item. There were news stories about people waiting for days outside on Black Friday.

And after seeing all of this, I have to wonder, is what we're currently waiting for worth the wait?

God knew we'd be this way--wasting all of our patience and anticipation on ridiculousness that won't even be wanted next year. Isn't it scary how easily we fall to that? I know I do anyway. Paul knew the people of Colosse did too.

He said this:
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. ³ For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. (Colossians 3:1-3)

Your life is now hidden with Christ in God. We're waiting for what is hidden to be revealed and that is the only thing worth waiting for; not earthly things. DVDs, TVs, cars, fame, money, that perfect relationship. Call us blessed when God provides it, most certainly, but it's not worth hanging our hope on, folks. Those are the perks along the journey of the greater wait--the coffee in your hand and the friend by your side. We're waiting for the best deal of all...totally free...the anticipation is to live for.

Jesus--He's the hope that won't ever disappoint. May your mind be set on that while you wait.

ridiculous.

Have you ever felt ridiculous?  I do all the time.  I get embarrassed about my appearance or things I say or if I’m good enough.  Then, this is usually followed by a layer of shame for how insecure and self-focused I can be.

Last week, I got to speak on a challenging text—Jesus being anointed at Bethany by an unnamed woman in Mark 14.  A woman walks into Simon the Leper’s house while Jesus is eating with the disciples..  She dumps a jar full of ointment on Jesus that was worth a year’s wages.  Talk about ridiculous.

The disciples thought so too and let Jesus know about it.  They chided her for not thinking of the poor when she made such a “waste” of wealth, not to mention bringing shame on herself as a woman among a room of men, none to whom she was married.  Jesus quieted the disciples and honored the woman and her act of love.   He explained that the woman was anointing Him for His burial—a common use of oils and ointments.  He even said that she would be mentioned every time the Gospel would be told, but her name isn’t even listed.  After all, she wasn’t there for her name, but to honor Christ’s.

I was convicted and moved by this story.  How often am I that smitten and enamored with Jesus that I am completely unaware others’ perceptions of me, the shame I may encounter, or what it may cost me?  Not often.  I think it’s difficult for most of us to relate to such an impractical expression of love in such a responsible world.  It seems so ridiculous.  And it is.

I’ve experienced people thinking I’m ridiculous for many things—not going to college right away,  serving on a ministry team for a year, going into professional church work, not being a party-er or dating any guy I could find, or putting myself out there for conversation with strangers and those different than me.

I’m not a huge fan of feeling like people are disapproving of my choices, but that’s what this Scripture is all about.

Jesus said we would have struggle here.  People here don’t know or understand Him or us because they don’t know our Father.  We need to get used to this and believe, instead, in the love the Father has for us.

It’s a love big enough to make us totally unaware of ourselves.  We stop thinking about others’ opinions, how we look, and if we’re good enough.  It’s not convincing ourselves to put them aside, it’s being so in love with Jesus that you’re rendered unaware of anything else.  Adam and Eve knew what that was like.  They were naked before the fall, but they were so enamored with the Lord that they didn’t even care to notice.  When we believe we are loved like Jesus loves, we are freed from our addiction of self because we just can’t take our eyes off of how wonderful He is long enough to even glance in the mirror.  This is what is truly beautiful.

A life to the full is one lived without fear, without shame, and totally engrossed in the love of our Lord.  Whether you are like the woman in the story, the disciples, or even Judas who runs out to betray, know and trust His ridiculous love for you regardless of who you are or how you respond.  This coming Friday, Good Friday, we remember how shamed, embarrassed, and ridiculed Jesus was on our behalf.  I challenge you to set apart time this week to love Jesus and be loved by Him.  Read and retell the story.  Respond how it moves you to do so.  You can never outdo the ridiculous love Jesus showed for you on the cross, but you can love Him because of it.

Here’s to a ridiculous Holy Week, meantime, and eternity.

waiting for Easter.

In honor of Holy Saturday, here's a blog post from last about waiting for Easter this week and in life.

http://www.shellyschwalm.com/search?q=good+friday

Blessings as you wait.  This is not the end.

“This isn’t how I thought it would be.” : a Mary story.

As I sit here in the glow of my Christmas tree, soaking up the scent of my holiday candle, I see the packages under the tree that my parents sent from Kansas.  There are a couple of open boxes in the corner that haven’t been mailed.  An unfinished Christmas project has overtaken the coffee table, which also holds a box of cards that won’t get sent.  I’m so bad at Christmas.

Ya know, I’m just not really what you would call a “Christmas person.”  I know, I know.  How can I love Jesus,  be in church work, and NOT be excited about His birth?!  Well, perhaps the Grinch and myself have something in common, but I think it has more to do with the crazy of the season and my tendency for ridiculous expectations.

I love giving thoughtful gifts.  I secretly dream of getting THE PERFECT THING that each person on my list has always secretly hoped and dreamed to receive.  If I fall short, I’m disappointed.  I get bummed when I don’t hear from loved ones I’m thinking of during this season.  It’s hard to spend the days leading up to Christmas, knowing that the Schwalm girls are filling the kitchen with goodies and sneaking gifts under the tree.  I sit and wonder who will wrap my Dad’s gifts for him and why I didn’t take time to adopt a Christmas angel this year.  I didn’t get to go to the Holidazzle parade or make it back for my alma mater’s Christmas concert.  I miss snow and I can’t make desserts like my mom.  My apartment is empty and my work load is full.  And I can’t help but think to myself: “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”

I heard someone say once, “This craziness of Christmas is ridiculous!  Do you think the first Christmas was like that?!  No!”  I can’t argue about the over-the-top nature the holiday has taken, but I’m pretty sure Christmas has always been crazy.

God blessed me with new eyes for Jesus’ mother, Mary, this Advent—a glimpse into her story.  Picture her.  Sweet teenage Mary.  Engaged to a lovely man.   Dreaming of the festivities they would have with the whole village to celebrate their nuptials.  Enter Gabriel the game changer.  Mary takes her assignment of birthing the Messiah with obedience, grace, and faith and in a flash, the holy baby bump is the talk of the village.  Hurtful words and whispers abound, dreams of a joyous and honorable wedding are dashed, and her man is having doubts.  Thankfully Elizabeth gave her some encouragement and Joseph jumps aboard after a little visit from the Lord while he was sleeping.  The wedding is still on, but not the large, honorable festivities, I’m sure.  She would never have a wedding like the one where her Son turned water into wine.  They would always be under scandal.  People are wondering about Joseph, too.  Just like that, this couples’ obedience to God has earned them scarlet letters.   And I have to wonder if at the thought of her crushed bridal dreams, she said, “This isn't how I thought it would be.”

But moving on, there’s a baby on the way.  Of course, they didn’t have a baby registry or a nursery to decorate, but there were still plans to be made.  I’m sure Mary had spoken with Nazareth’s midwife.  I'm sure those were interesting conversations.  I'm thinking she had delivered enough babies to question the whole virgin birth thing.  There are certain to have been conversations with Mary’s mom about what to expect and tricks to handle the pain.  They probably prepared a place for the birth and a few items for the baby soon to come.  After all, it could be any day now.  But wait, word arrives to Nazareth that there is a census being enforced by the Roman occupation.  All must register.  No exceptions.  (Note God's creative use of political oppression here as a tool to get Mary and Joseph 80 miles down the road to Bethlehem so the prophecy would be fulfilled.  Well played.)  I can only imagine the tears rolling down Mary’s face as Joseph broke the news.  “I’m sorry, Mary, but we have to go to Bethlehem right away.  It’s a long journey, but we have no choice.”  She rushes to gather a few things together—a few loaves of bread, a wine skin, and some strips of cloth for swaddling for the baby’s arrival—while her mother repeats delivery instructions over and over again to the young, first time parents.  Mary wouldn’t have her midwife there, or her mama, or anyone who had been a parent before.  And as they left Nazareth all their plans for the birth of their child fading behind them, I’m sure Mary had to have thought at least once, “This isn’t how I thought it would be.”

Yes, I know she was obedient in this calling, but she was still human.  And any human riding nine months pregnant on a donkey for four days is sure to have some unholy thoughts.  As they come into this humble village of Bethlehem, the place is packed.  So packed that they can’t even get a room to sleep in.  The kind innkeeper offers a livestock cave out back so they can at least get out of the wind.  And Mary goes into labor.  In a place with sheep dung all over the ground, reeking of animals, chilly, and rocky.  I could image her desperation in that moment.  “Okay…I didn’t get the wedding, my first child is shamed, not celebrated by my village, the Romans force us to come to Bethlehem with a baby bouncing on a donkey ride, and I’ve been a good sport.  But…this?!?!  This. Is. Ridiculous!”  She has nothing to welcome her little one with, except for a few strips of cloth she brought and a new dad to help with the delivery.  This was so not how she thought it would be.

Jesus is born and Mary is exhausted.  She needs to rest, but can’t put Jesus down on the sheep poop floor.  I have to believe Joseph improvised with the whole manger idea and was so proud of his problem-solving dad moment.  He knew it wasn’t what she’d imagined, but the best they could do.

But wait.  There’s more.  God is so excited about the arrival of His Son to earth that He has to tell someone!  Why not some shepherds?  They’re close and still awake…bring ‘em over!  And poor post-labor Mary welcomes a bunch of filthy shepherds to the cave, probably accompanied by some sheep, to see the Christ lying in a feeding trough.  It really had to be nothing like she’d expected.  But that was the moment that it all hit her.

It was as if she relived all the moments that led up to that point, starting from Gabriel’s visit.  The pregnancy scandal, the talking neighbors, the almost divorce, the census, the journey, the donkey..oh, the donkey, the crowded inn, the sheep cave, the broken birth plans, and shepherds being the first to visit the newborn.  But she smiled and pondered all of these moments in her heart because through all of that, a stringing together of one crazy event after another, the Messiah was born just as she’d been told.

It didn’t get easier from there.  They had to flee to Egypt for awhile.  Their families wouldn’t have met Jesus until they returned to Nazareth when he was a young child.  Perhaps she’d thrown her expectations out the window by then.

So I stop and look around at my Christmas crazy.  My packages and projects.  Or just my regular crazy.  My unattained goals and unreached landmarks.  Are my expectations getting in the way?  Am I willing to give up my dreams and expectations for what God might have in mind?  Do I trust that when difficult arises that God’s provision and protection is bigger than my fear and discomfort?  Am I taking time to ponder in my heart what God has done this year to bring me to this point?  Am I missing the Savior for being focused on the manger?

There have been SO many times in my life that I’ve uttered those words, “this is not what I thought it would be.”  But one thing remains true every Christmas since the first, and it’s true for this one.  Jesus is here.  God has kept His promise and in a way no one expected.  Christmas has always been crazy.  This year is no exception.  Take a cue from Mary.  Roll with it.  Do some pondering.  And join in worshiping with the shepherds.

Sometimes I wonder if she really knew what it all meant.  I mean, she knew Jesus was the Messiah, but what did that mean to her?  Did she expect Him to reign as King of Israel?  Lead a mighty military?  Overthrow the Roman oppressors?  Did she really expect him to…be a carpenter like His dad?  Well, both of His dad’s did like to make things…so I guess it works.  Did she expect him to have a posse and travel around speaking and healing?  I don’t know.

There was a moment where Mary stood next to John, the one Jesus loved, and looked up at her first born.  A baby once wrapped in cloths was now a beaten, bloody mess hanging with His hands and feet nailed to a cross.  As His mother stood there in John’s arms, overcome by sadness, I believe she was grieving dreams of who she thought Jesus would be both as her son and her Messiah.  Perhaps saying for a final time, “This…this is not how I thought it would be.”

But on that Good Friday at the cross and that night in Bethlehem, heaven replied, “For you, for the world, for hope, life, and salvation, this is how it had to be in to accomplish what’s meant to be.”

You having life for hear and eternity is what’s meant to be.  Jesus brought that for you. 

Merry Christmas. 

it’s not the alone, it’s the lonely.

I reconnected with my friend, Mary, for lunch a few days ago.  It was delightful.  She is a dear friend with a delightful personality, fun stories, and has depth of insight and faith.  It’d been awhile, so we caught one another up on our lives.  We shared the joys and the struggles of being two awesome, single women.   We paused for a moment and she said something profound.  “Ya know, I can handle being alone just fine.  It’s the lonely.  The lonely is what is difficult.”

She's so right.

There aren’t too many times that I get lonely.  I do fear it, though, now that I live on my own again.  It’s one of those lies that the enemy really tries to attack me with.  “You’re alone and always will be.”

Friday, I woke up with the same high fever I took to bed with me.   I rolled out of bed and went to the clinic, hoping it was just strep throat and would be dealt with by a few minutes with a doctor and antibiotics from the pharmacy a few isles away.  The PA looked concerned after seeing my 103 temperature and seeing that I couldn’t seem to grasp a deep breath.

She sat down and looked me in the eye.  “You have a really high fever and I’m concerned you have pneumonia.  I’m going to send you to an urgent care to get a chest x-ray.”  She continued on with how she’d call ahead for me and told me she just wouldn’t feel comfortable sending me home without getting checked somewhere else.  She printed out directions for me and sent me on my way.

I walked out to the car in shock.  I was scared.  I’d only known old people or really sick people that got pneumonia.  Some of them even died from it.   Then it happened.  The lonely set in.  “I have to go to this scary doctor and get x-rays by myself.   I don’t feel well.  What if I hear his directions incorrectly?   What if I have to go to the hospital?  I’ll be there alone.  Even if I don’t, I’m going to be home by myself for a few days.  My mom is 600 miles away.  I hate doing this by myself!”

Well, a few days later, I now know a few things that maybe we both can learn a little bit from.

1.        Being lonely is terrible.  It is not the way we were intended to be.  God designed us to love and serve one another.  We weren’t designed to fly solo.  Think of shut-ins in your community, people who live alone, moms who spend long days with young children.  Be someone who invites others to come to your house or invites yourself to theirs.  Let God use you to love the lonely. 

 2.     I am not alone.  Neither are you.  In times like these, or even just regular days when the imagination gets going a little too quickly, it’s really easy to let the enemy trick us into believing we are.  You are not alone.  This is a promise that God has made to you over and over again in Scripture. 

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”  Deuteronomy 31:8

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41:10

⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
   Where can I flee from your presence?
⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make my bed in the depths,^[a] you are there.
⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
   if I settle on the far side of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
   your right hand will hold me fast.  Psalm 139:7-10

We train our hearts with God’s truth so that it trusts His promises instead of our feelings.  You are not alone. 


3.     Stop being lonely.  I hate it when I catch myself saying “I’m getting used to being alone.”   I get really frustrated with myself when I realize I’ve thrown a huge pity party for myself, but still think to invite no one.  What I’m getting at is, if you’re lonely, reach out to someone.  I know there are people I could’ve called that would’ve come with me.  I’m too prideful to “inconvenience them.”  Guess what?  People usually don't mind being inconvenienced to help a friend.  I’m embarrassed that I’m not strong enough to take care of myself and all of this on my own, but guess what?  I’m not.  So, lonely people out there, let me hit you with something hard.  Ask for help.  Tell someone you’re lonely.  Let someone love you.  You aren't a bother or a chore.  Fight your fear and invite someone in to the messy parts of your life.  They can help with the clean up and I guarantee it won’t feel nearly as lonely once you do.  Life is so much better lived that way—in messy, real, beautiful, loving, chaotic community.

So last night a dear friend, Tabitha, asked me what she could do to help and instead of saying, “oh, nothing.  I’m fine.”  I told her.  I would love meals and company.  Today, she and two of her kids came over.  They raced up and down my hallway as she made me food that will make me healthy again.  My house was loud and filled with coloring pages and crayon marks and I loved it.  It was crazy, awesome love (and really good food, too).  Great medicine for my soul.

Because really, we’re all sick with something.  We might as well get honest about it and ask for help.  Things aren’t so lonely that way.