Had Jesus turned up the chairs at His table saving seats only for those “like” Him and whom He considered worthy of friendship, we would have missed out on Luke’s gospel – the gospel writer most quoted when speaking of the birth of the Savior. As Eugene Peterson says in his introduction to the book of Luke, “Luke is a vigorous champion of the outsider. An outsider himself, the only Gentile in an all-Jewish cast of New Testament writers…” Think of the Christmas Eve services and the adorable pre-school programs and children’s musicals where we would have missed the words, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree…” had Jesus turned up the chair at the table when Luke entered the room.

Cliques in the church should never be. Jesus set that example for us. Whose word in your life have you missed for turning up the chair at the table of fellowship?

And for those times in life when YOU have been the one searching for an unsaved seat in a crowded room, celebrate this observation from Eugene Peterson, “As Luke tells the story, all of us who have found ourselves on the outside looking in on life with no hope of gaining entrance (and who of us hasn’t felt it?), now find the doors wide open; we have been found, welcomed and redeemed by God in Jesus Christ.” Now THERE’S a table I’m so thankful had an available seat for me!

Got gay?

Friends?  Family?

Two words:

Love them.

News flash:

Jesus does.

1 John 4:9-11 In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

I’m thinking I may have to create a category titled “The Older I Get” because the conversations in my head seem to be landing there a lot these days.  For example, the older I get the more I ponder why we clap when we do and whether our choice of times to clap is appropriate.

This morning in church our pastor veered from his notes and made a Biblical statement about the sanctity of life.  He was careful to point out that his statement was not political; rather, it was taken straight from the pages of God’s word.  And it was.  And I was so proud of him because not many pastors are brave enough to go there these days.  It was refreshing.  And I said, “amen!” along with several others.

And then someone started clapping – loudly.  And suddenly I felt uncomfortable.  I have no idea who started the clapping and, even if I did, I would not presume to make a judgement call on the heart motive of the clapper.  It may have simply been their way of saying “amen!”

In the deep of me, this is what I thought.  “Someone(s) here has been through the horror of abortion.  Perhaps they have asked God to forgive them and they have been forgiven because that is what happens – even with abortion.  And perhaps the sudden clapping in a place where there is generally no clapping during a sermon will bring a new level of condemnation for them.  And if they feel condemned will they ever feel free to share their story?  After all, their story could change some one else’s life and maybe even save the life of an unborn child.  The shared story may even be a brand new place of freedom in their own life.  So, should I clap along because I really am so thankful that FINALLY what breaks the heart of God is being spoken out loud or is my amen enough?  Or is there even a difference between the two?”

So there is my question for today.  To clap or not to clap?

As I read “Streams in the Desert” this morning I was reminded of the great cost of freedom. We watch and applaud those men and women who have fought for the freedoms we have – and we absolutely should. We shed tears and salute when we realize the loss of life and limb that comes with the cost. It is real. It is great. And if we aren’t careful we stand to lose those freedoms that came at so great a cost.

And then we compartmentalize our spiritual freedom as if the same rules do not apply. We talk as though if we are optimistic enough or spiritual enough that God should and will automatically bless us with health, wealth and happiness.

That is simply not the Story I read. Jesus neither arrived nor departed in comfort. And in between? Not so much. The road to Calvary was difficult, it was poor, it was not popular, it was dirty, it was filled with scars.

This morning I’ve thought about Mary and her road. I believe she would have read “Love You Forever” to her boy and shed a tear as she did. I cannot imagine the agony and emotional scars she bore as she watched life unfold for her beloved son.

I will admit to you that my years in the oasis of life have been my absolute favorite years. And I thank God that He gives us those kinds of years. However, my most productive years spiritually have been those years in the desert. I’ve been walking in the desert for several years with oasis moments and days sprinkled in. I have new scars.

Here is what “Streams in the Desert” said today: “Would you like to be there (at the judgement seat) and see yourself pointed at as the one saint who never knew a sorrow? Oh, no! For you would be an alien in the midst of the sacred brotherhood. We will be content to share the battle, for we shall soon wear the crown and wave the palm.” -C.H. Spurgeon.

So, stand up and salute your scars with me today. They will be worth it when our final freedom is realized!

I’ve often said it would be fun to be one of the people who sit around a table all day naming things all while getting paid for sitting around a table all day naming things.  Lip stick and nail polish are two great examples.  Yes, you can find the standard Apple Red, Coral and Mocha, but have you ever looked past the standard, boring person who must be required at the table?  There you will find lip sticks named “Just Like Heaven” (really?) and “Barely Nude” which is not to be outdone by “Never So Nude.”  Next you can move on to the nail polish where you will find “I’m Baroque,” “No Pre-Nup” (which likely explains the former) and “Blowin’ Money Fast.”  I’m thinking someone at that table was in the midst of a very bad life experience.

Because naming things always looked appealing, I really thought naming a blog would be rather easy.  Boy was I ever wrong.  I started the process with my family and came up with a short list of possibilities, most of which were taken.  It would appear that we are the boring people at the table.  Next I enlisted the help of seven women who have been on this journey with me.  They definitely brought the fun I was expecting to the table.  They had some ideas like “Cup-o-Jo” and “Simply Speaking Now” but then things went south quickly with “Going Off Half Hancock,” “You Can’t Handle the Truth,” and “But then again, what do I know?”

Somewhere in the process “My Life in Ink” was born.  It wasn’t an instant favorite except with me and I decided that’s what matters.  I kept returning to it like a table full of sugar cookies at Christmas.  The deal was sealed when one of the women got my wheels turning with a design theme centered around news and ink.

The one nagging negative that kept surfacing as I did computer research was in wondering if people would assume my domain was a site about tattoos.

I’m not one who thinks tattoos are a bad thing.  My main issue with them is that they are permanent, expensive and can be addictive.  You really can cross a line into looking like a clown.  I have told our eighteen year old that waiting until she flips the calendar several more times before she chooses to put permanent ink on her body would be a display of the better part of wisdom.  I’ve also told her that if she can afford a tattoo then she must have more money than we thought she had to put on her own school bill.

Plus, as I researched inking I didn’t really like what I could or would often be associated with.

And then the light bulb went on.

Isaiah 49:16 tells me what God thought was important enough to tattoo on Himself.  It was ME.  And it is YOU.  The NIV says it this way:  “See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”  The Message says it this way:  “I have written your names on the backs of my hands.”

Me…and you…all down through history.  Me…and you…forever engraved on Him.

And I cannot get over the wonder of the two versions.  In the NIV I’m in the palm of His hands; the place where He can cover and protect me.  In the Message I’m on the backs of His hands; where I’m in His line of sight all day long.

And did you see that in both versions, I am not only on a singular hand?  I am in His care on every side. And so are you.

So ink it is.  I want “My Life in Ink.com” to be a reflection of knowing I am inked onto the very nature of God.  And the best part of all?  He never over-thought whether I was worth the inking.  I simply was….before the foundation of the world…chosen.  (Ephesians 1:4)

Celebrate being chosen with me.  Celebrate the ink.