Through the Gospels – Matthew 1

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SOAP – Through the Gospels
Matthew 1

S – SCRIPTURE
Matthew 1:1 – the book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

O –OBSERVATION
When I was just learning to read, one of my daily routines was going through a devotional bible reading plan called “Bible Pathways.” Their particular plan was set up in such a way that if you followed it closely (reading approximately 3 chapters/15 minutes/day), you would finish reading the entire Bible in one year. I absolutely loved finishing my reading because then I could put a check mark on the scheduled reading plan for the day. (Nothing like crossing things off a list! DONE! Still love doing that.)

That said, I hated reading the genealogies & family trees. Whenever I came across them, I would just SKIP over them to the end; the spot where the ‘boring’ & meaningless to me list of oft-unpronounceable names ran on & on. I can remember asking several people WHY this was in the Bible; it made no sense to me to have all these people listed & that I had to read over it. And it wasn’t like there was only one spot in the Bible where the genealogies were, like the “Book of Genealogies” located after Esther & before Job, so you could just kind of SKIP over them to get to the good stuff. Nope. They pop up all over the place, invisibly connecting narratives, histories, & stories like connective tissue – its there, but you don’t know the reason for it.

Matthew 1 begins with a genealogy – one that I have skipped over many, many times. Until I got frustrated & asked God a question: “Why? Why are these in the Bible? Is it to build my perseverance? To make me thankful for the end of the list? I don’t get it – but if its in there, its gotta be important. What is it?”

A – APPLICATION
The answer to my prayer/question was not immediate, & it came from an unlikely source: my dad’s cousin Laurie. Cousin Laurie is our very own “Family Tree & Ancestry Expert.” For some reason unbeknownst to me, she has been passionately researching our family line for years, even crossing the Atlantic to peruse family records in Scotland. To my knowledge, she has traced our family of origin, with multiple branches, back into the 16th century. I had heard many 2nd hand stories about her searches, but never really got the straight scoop until one day she stopped by my office after church on a Sunday, & started in on a story about “our family.”

Laurie pulled out a notebook with several pieces of paper – it was obvious she’d spent a lot of time with it, & that the information on it was valuable. In a very short period of time, she showed me different branches of the family tree, complete with names, birth/death dates, & interesting vignettes. What had once been a poorly understood & mostly unknown collection of names came to life. These were people, with lifetimes of stories – & every one of them was connected to me & my own story. The actions, choices, & lives (good, bad, & ugly) of people living hundreds of years prior had somehow, someway led to me & my reality.

As I listened & observed, suddenly threads began to emerge in my mind – I could see & trace God’s hand of mercy, grace, & purpose on my family line. Generation upon generation, God had been working redemptively & faithfully. The family tree revealed a forest of purpose & intentionality. It was like a puzzle piece being placed into the 10,000-pc puzzle it originated in; somehow it fit.

And then I saw it – an answer to the prayer/question I had asked God long before. Genealogies are reminders of the importance of individual lives in the grand story of the gospel, as well as a picture of the absolute sovereignty of God to weave those threads of story into a beautiful tapestry that reveals HIS story, purpose, plan, & the Good News of Jesus Christ.

P – PRAYER
LORD – thank you for not only being a “big picture” God, but also for dealing with the small & seemingly insignificant life story threads… that You make something beautiful from it. Remind me of the significance of my actions, choices, & the way I invest my life today. Fill me with awareness of where You are at work in & around me, & show me how to cooperate with Your Spirit in that work.

school’s out for summer… er, 2 weeks, an anniversary. And other musings.

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Sunday morning I woke up early… earlier than normal for my Sunday workday. Many reasons for that:

    -the nagging of unfinished school work; had to write a couple paragraphs for the conclusion to the paper for the END o Class project for TH600 (which is a fancy way of saying Advanced Theology & Worldview. Its a 600 class, not a 500 class. So it is 100 better. Or bigger. Or badder. But I digress.)
    -My back hurt enough that rolling over repeatedly didn’t make it go away. Better to rise than to lay there.
    -I smelled the foff (coffee for laymen). The timer went off at the weekday time instead of the weekend time, calling to me with her siren’s call: “Come & get me! I’m Guatemala today!” Sounded just like that too.
    -Bad dreams. Woke up thinking I’d gotten a certified letter LEGALLY declaring the demand that I cease & desist, with no further talking to or interacting with my family. That was a fun. Felt real until the afternoon.

And yet, the biggest reason was it was Father’s Day. June 17, 2012. Exactly 22 years since my little brother John Leavy Locke went to be with Jesus. He passed at 4:34 a.m on that day in 1990; I’ve written about it a few times. Here. And here. And now, every year on the anniversary of his passing from death to life, I wake up at precisely that time. I’ve probably tapped into some latent superpower that allows one to wake up WHEN they WANT to, though this one is a bit out of control as I don’t wanna wake up then. But I do. Perhaps I always will. I do know that while I still grieve, it’s not without the hope of seeing him again. And perhaps I shall write on this topic yearly… until such a time that other such days color my world grey.

The last 9 months have been something of a blur – I have felt more than a bit overwhelmed emotionally – talked with my friend Chuck about it a couple weeks back over a Shepherd’s Pie & he asked the question: “Have you experienced any loss or significant relationship change over the last while?”

I got to thinking, & images of people, dear friends & pseudo-family members, rushed through my brain. All people that have moved on. Many due to school, jobs & opportunities outside of the Reno area, a couple due to the moving on associated with life change & finding a new church to attend. Tried to count the number of people that had moved/transitioned since January 1. Stopped at 30. I looked across the table at Chuck through misty eyes & he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” It happens. Its a part of life. And it hurts. Love these people, & when they go, it leaves a mark. More than when Charlie bit my finger… it really hurts.

And the hits keep on coming – TheAge & Sandra Nell are relocating to Boston – TheAge, one of the truly greatest creative musical artists I’ve ever known, is off to Berklee School of Music to pursue a dream that I know he will catch. Sandra Nell, teacher, baker, artist, & cake designer of the rarest sort… Chris & Natalie (& their progeny, including my namesake, lil Mo’Lou, are heading to their hometown of Vegas…was just hired as the worship pastor at the church he grew up in. Chris. a gifted songwriter, artist, worship leader… Natalie Rose, writer, photographic artist, creative soul, and freestyle, stream-of-consciousness thought sharer.

My friends. People I love dearly. My eyes are swimming.

And in other news: now that I have 2 whole weeks off from the required reading & writing of grad school, I shall endeavor to reread the LOTR (aka, The Lord of the Rings.) It is one book, not three, divided into six sections. J.R.R. Tolkien, how I love thee.

Went to Father’s Day lunch at the Little Wal with theBean, theWeez, iDoey, & the 3 of the last 4 people to live with our family, along with their spouses. (Missed you YoooooouuuulleeeeeeeeAHHHHHHHH!) It was like a family reunion. Beautiful, especially seeing the lives that the girls are living now with their very own boys. Brings me great joy.

The Little Wal has an extra special Sunday Special – buy one burger at regular price, get another for 1cent. Booyah.

TheWeez got up from the table at the end of the meal to go home with iDoey – her long dark brown hair fell perfectly across her face, partially behind her right ear. I was mesmerized – & I told her, “Wow, Weez. You look absolutely Elvish! All you need is the pointy ears!”

Which of course in my world = Absolutely Beautiful. It makes total sense. To me. And to other Tolkien speakers.

TheWeez grimaced at me & left.

Three of the ladies at the table, one being my wife, the other two being grown up, surrogate daughter-types, let me know that I had committed a faux-pas. Fortunately, they gave me some good advice for communicating with my girl in the future.

    -“if you think she looks beautiful, tell her she is pretty. Pretty. Not elvish.”
    -“elvish is definitely not something a girl wants to be compared to. No matter what any other man at the table might say.”
    -“if you keep that up, you could give her a complex.”
    -“don’t mention her ears. She doesn’t want to hear about her ears.”

Duly noted. I will keep my sci-fi/fantasy comparisons & metaphors to myself.

TheWeez – you are beautiful.

It’s not about me…

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Last year I spent a little over a month blogging through the Book of Acts – 1 post per chapter. Several people were invited by a mutual friend to do this with the thoughts that The Collective End Product might be able to be compiled & bound into a book of some sorts.

The (original) project didn’t end up coming together, but a couple weeks back, I found out that several blogs that we’d written had been combined with some others as a part of a devotional book called DAILY ACTS. Sweet. I was really excited & my wife & kids thought it was pretty cool. So we bought a copy of the book. It is good stuff, & not just because I wrote a portion.

There was only one ‘problem.’ Every one of the blog/devotions that I wrote were attributed to “Louie D. Locke, Pastor of Fountainhead Foursquare Church in Carson City, NV.” That’s not me. It’s my dad.

Ouch.

My dad & I are both pastors in the Foursquare Church. We have the same first name. And last name. Over the last 20 years, this has resulted in me getting his anniversary cards. Him getting my correspondence. Both of us getting emails, letters, and phone calls meant for the other. It happens.

As soon as I saw the attribution, I felt something rise up in my gut. I think it was frustration. I felt wronged. I wanted the world to know that it was really me that had written the blogs. Not because I’m a glory hound: at least I don’t think so. Not because I want to be famous. But because I did the work. So I did what I’ve learned to do when I feel ME rising up inside, getting all indignant & frustrated at one of life’s quirky yet painful happenings. I went to a private place & told God what was up. What I was feeling. In gruesome detail. I talked til I was talked out. It wasn’t that I felt much better at the end, but I did feel understood. Like He got me.

Then, a question popped into my head –
GOD – “Why did you write the blogs on Acts?”

ME: “Because I hoped that they’d help people read, study, understand, & apply the Scriptures.”

GOD – “Is that going to happen?”

ME: “Yes.”

GOD: “So what’s the problem?”

ME: “I guess I wanted the credit.”

GOD: “It’s not about you. Don’t make it about you. You start making it about you, you’ll try to make yourself known. Someone great, in the eyes of others. Don’t do it.”

ME: “Ok.”

GOD: “Remember, whatever you do, you’re doing it for Me. My glory. My purposes.”

ME: “Got it. Yes Sir.”

The frustration lifted. My head cleared. And so did my heart.

Salsa, super-powers, theWeez & other musings…

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I made salsa tonight. Pineapple/Jalapeño Chutney actually. First time I made it, I didn’t know it was a salsa until we started dipping chips into it & repeating. Over. And over.

My favorite part of making salsa isn’t the chopping of the peppers, onion, or pineapple. Nope. That is an exercise of survival, mentally willing myself to keep all of my fingers where they belong as I crudely attempt to chop the choppees into manageable sized pieces.

My favorite part is the simmering. I get to turn the heat to a semi-lo setting, and stir when I want. The bubbles that appear in the liquid bring out smells that make my stomach jump in anticipation. The mess is too hot to eat, but the anticipation of dipping a chip into the mess & cramming it into my face brings with it joy unmentionable.

But I shall wait until tomorrow evening when salsa shall be consumed in copious amounts, accompanied by chile-lime marinated chicken & fresh tortillas. And there will be great rejoicing.

I think I might have a super-power. It isn’t flying. Or being made of steel. Or plasticity. Or invisibility. I think I have the super power of being able to sense ingredients that would taste good together in a recipe. The funny thing is I can taste the combo ingredients in my head. Without having to actually taste them. I am “low-keying” my super-power, as I do not know how to control it yet.

Baseball has to be listened to on AM radio. FM (& stereo) is wrong. I declare.

I was at the church office taking care of some bidness; I caught the movement of a person entering the office out of the corner of my eye. A glance. It was a beautiful woman that I didn’t recognize. And then she spoke, “Hi Daddy!”

Oh.

“Hi myWeez.”

My eyes water.

Free time & other musings on a cloudy Tuesday…

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I have 40 minutes until I pick up my little big kids from school. Doesn’t seem like much, but I’ve chosen to steal time where I can get it – free time.

Life is beautiful, still. I will declare it. But it is also full. I have a dwindling yet still there built in margin that is constantly being threatened by the Pressing In. Life. Family happenings. Work responsibilities. Grad school. Bulletin board interactions. Forced reading & writing. Rinse. Repeat.

Free time. Time alotted for nothing but whatever I could find to give myself to. It is precious, & when i find it, like I have today, I treasure it, relish it like a teaspoon of crunchy peanut butter on a hot spoon, smothered in chocolate chips. Even if its just 40 minutes.

The Pasty Gangster called me just now – he had 10 minutes to kill, & thought of me. It has been 7 months, 9 days since we last interacted face to face. I’m hoping to be able to send theBean to see him soon; don’t know if it will work out for all of us to get there, but if anyone goes, its gotta be theBean. Mom’s gotta be able to see her son – where he lives, works, etc. Somehow, its enough for me to hear about it & let my mind paint pictures of what his life is like. Mom has gotta see it. I understand, I think. And wonder if I’m just in denial, telling myself it will be ok to send Just theBean to Knoxville, & that me, theWeez, & iDoey will hold down the fort. Cause if its ok, then the hurt & longing of missing the boy can be wrapped up in the joy of theBean getting to see him on our behalf.

I just want people to know Jesus. To know His love & acceptance, the transforming power of forgiveness and grace. The real freedom that comes with a Holy Spirit-led life.

So often, the familiarity of the life we know keeps us from moving forward into the life in all of its fullness.

Had coffee with a new potential friend today – a fellow laborer within the church in Reno. It was fun, truly, getting to talk & feel each other out & to talk about commonalities.

More on that later.

musings on a Valentines Day…

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Our first Valentines Day is a little blurry in my memory. I know that I made myself sick with worry (really, I barfed. TMI, I know, TMI.) I wanted to get theBean, my fiancee a gift. A good gift. Something that would perfectly describe my commitment to her, encompass all of my undying love & devotion, & make her absolutely positively sure that she was making the Right Choice by marrying me. I wanted all of this to be communicated in the gift I got her. And I wanted it for under $50 (Which was a lot of money back in the day… But I digress.)

I don’t remember what I bought her. Neither does she. Funny. And I’d gotten so worked up, anxious, stressed, and worried. What I do remember is that she kissed me good after I gave her the present, & that I never wanted it to stop. The kiss that is. But it had to because theBean couldn’t (still can’t) breathe so good through her nose.

I knew I loved her, & for some reason, she loved me back. I didn’t (don’t) understand it, but I am not one to argue with a stunningly beautiful woman who wanted to pledge her undying love & a lifetime of devotion to me. Go figure.

Something that I’m thankful about is that theBean doesn’t need presents to make her happy; they’re not her main “love language.” (Go to that link. Learn about love languages. Talk to your loved one. Listen to what makes them feel loved. Do it.)

Granted, she likes bling, appreciates kind gestures like flowers & cool looking cooking pots, but what she wants is me.

Me. That’s a tough one. Because I know the depths of my heart, the levels of junk I’m capable of. The things I’ve put her through out of my immaturity, selfishness, and brokenness.

And still, what she wants is me. My attention. Approval. Support. Encouragement. Ears. Commitment. Good words. Touch. Eye contact. Heart. Acts of service. Cleaning up around the house. Pretending I know what I’m doing in the kitchen/bbq.

Today, she asked me to be her Valentine. Again. Still. I said, “Yes. Will you be mine too? Forever and ever and ever…?” She agreed.

I watched her drive off to work, & as she started to pull away, she rolled down the window & said, “You’re all mine, baby!”

Like I’m a prize worth having. Like she still means it. Goodness.

My heart is full, & I am so thankful for the favor of God on my life that He would give me such a woman.

You didn’t let ME run!

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“You didn’t let ME run, Dad.”

TheWeez’s comment took me by surprise. I had no context. “What do you mean Weez?”

“You sat up on the stage today after church, & there were like 100 little kids running crazy all over the church, & you just sat there smiling. And then later on, you pointed out that little kids run & make messes & are loud… & you’re okay with it, because they are also a great sign of life. But you didn’t let ME run!”

Hmmm. She was going back in the archives to the Olden Days. The days before Boys entered her world. Before self-consciousness had struck. Before there was anything else on her agenda for the day except getting where she wanted to go as fast as she could. And what she recalled was that when she was small, like the running mitey-mites that had filled the sanctuary today, I wouldn’t let her run. My daughter.

I remember THAT guy. Sometimes he feels like a completely different person than I was, but then I see that he has scars on his shoulders in the same places I do, & I can remember thinking what he was thinking, & knowing, KNOWING that I KNEW what was most important in life… & kids not running at church, especially my kids, was important. Sigh.

That guy. Uptight. Grumpy. On the edge of angry most of the time. Easily frustrated. Defensive. Insecure. Immature. Trying sooooo hard. Working harder. Faster. Longer. Wearing out. Breaking down. Bottled up. Hurting. Confused. Tired.

He was so hard to be around; I couldn’t stand him. Its even harder to come to grips with when I know that I know that THAT guy was me. He left marks on the psyches of those he loved the most, theBean, Pasty, iDoey, & theWeez. Among others.

What I don’t remember is when that guy left. It seems that he might have lingered, neither here nor there, for quite a while, until finally he was gone, no longer welcome.

“You didn’t let me run, Dad. I just wanted to run,” theWeez said, softer this time. “WHY? Why didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry Weez. I thought I knew what I was doing, but looking back, I was silly, in the worst grownup kind of churchy silly that I could be. I’m so sorry…” My voice trailed off. My eyes reacted with vigor to the dust-storm that must have just appeared in the room; otherwise, why would my eyes be so clouded…?

“If I had it to do over again, sweetheart, I would let you run. And I would run with you.”

“You would?”

“Yep. I would.”

She thought for a moment… “Yeah, you probably would.” Big smile.

Wind and fire, a return to school-ness, family, & other musings…

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Oh LORD. Have mercy.

Fire is one of my favorite things – candles, camp fires, a back yard fire pit. Fire. In moderation, under control, providing ambiance, warmth, cheer… Sigh. I’m sitting at my desk looking out my window at the smoke filled sky… yet another wind-blown rager has descended upon the Reno area, consuming at least 10 houses in the Pleasant Valley-ish area. Oh LORD. Have mercy.

Sunday evening marks my return to my Master’s program & with it a 6 month deluge of reading & writing before my next break. I find myself wanting to drag out the days until I go “back to school” as long as possible. Its not the work – its the stress that keeping my school schedule in the context of an already full life – puts on my attempts to live “in rhythm,” balanced; to not only have a good day off, but to Sabbath. To cease. Rest. Celebrate. Reflect. Deadlines, assignments, pressures have taken me & my resolve to Sabbath to the bending point… bending to the point of recognizing a great need for an iron backbone and a forehead made of flint that, for the good of me & mine, will enable me to navigate the next phase of life & school. Oh LORD. Have mercy.

It has been exactly 5 months & 7 days since #1 son, the Pasty Gangster, moved to Knoxville, TN. He is doing well, has a great job, is prepping for a return to school in the fall, & his relationship with Alexandrea is going gangbusters… (He inherited from his Papi the uncanny ability of having a beautiful, talented, compassionate, caring woman fall in love with him. 3 words: Jedi mind tricks.)

I miss him something terribly. There’s a part of me that is so happy for him – the prayerful choices he made to get where he is, the hard work he’s put in to excel at his job, & set himself up for the next phase of life… And there’s a part of me, that is still grieving, missing him; it is so close to the surface that merely thinking on it moves me to weepyness, & I find myself “dad-gumming” the dust in the room that has gotten in my eyes. Oh, the joy of feeling one’s emotions… Don’t have a date to see the boy yet, but I’m hopeful. And praying for him. And us. And asking the LORD for mercy on our lives, and favor upon his.

Joey, aka iDoey came into our room last night, and laid across the foot of the bed. The whole thing. He was even hanging off the edge of it. What HAPPENED to that kid? When did the little man turn into the tallest member of the family? His drivers license tells me he is 17. I don’t believe it. I still see the 2 year old boy that used to try to sneak into my room in the morning (if 4 a.m. is the morning), dodging pillows that I’d toss at him, trying to make it to his mom’s side of the bed so he could alert her to his need for food & drink: “I’m hungry, and thirsty, and hungry!” Always the same words. The same intensity and desperation.

iDoey is passionate. His personality is reminiscent of my brother Johnny’s – super strong, articulate & well-expressed. I have oft been tempted to counter his strength with my own tidal wave of forcefulness, strength, & power… but that’s been shown, long ago, to be ineffective. Meekness, controlled strength, patience and perseverance is what was required. Oh, so many times I blew it in a blow up, only to repent later, asking forgiveness of my God & my boy. There’s not much time left before the world we live in calls my son an adult, challenging him to move out on his own to pursue life, dreams, & God’s plans for His life. I resist the temptation to control, and find myself praying for this boy/man. Oh LORD. Have mercy.

Alyse, theWeez, Princess Weezer-brooks just had birthday #15. She takes great joy in tormenting her father with stories of her dreams of getting married in just a couple more years… Oh theWeez, you can wait a little while, can’t you? I will spoil you something terrible, & you will get to have your mom & I all to yourself…

We, she & I, picked out a ring for her birthday – its special, with her birthstone – we call it a “getting a vision for sexy-time with her husband and only her husband” purity ring. To save the specialness of intimacy for marriage. Because my girl is special, & worth waiting for. Oh LORD. Have mercy.

Thankful for the peace of God that transcends understanding & circumstance, filling my heart & mind with the comfort of KNOWING that I KNOW that He is with me. Is sufficient for me. For my life situations. And my kids.

So say we all.

Blowing in the wind on a New Year’s Eve eve & other musings…

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I spent the morning putting together a shopping list for our church family’s New Year Pancake Sunday extravaganza… the preparation of the list was much more thrilling than the actual shopping that fulfilled the list (unless you count the crossing off of items from the list which just might be one of the funnest things ever to do. Give me a list to cross stuff off of & entertain me for days. Truly. But I digress.)

Navigated the aisles of Costco, bemoaning the fact that the Powers That Be within said Costco must have made it their holiday wish to stymie my already malformed ability to shop effectively by daily moving items from one place to another within the warehouse. I vaguely remember an explanation i was given by a Costco employee as to WHY they happen to move stuff around so frequently, but I have chosen to forget said explanation because it pales in contrast to the obvious wrongs of Changing the Location of Items I would like to purchase.

Never fear. Pancake Sunday is happening, & all relevant items for the celebration of the day are in hand. So to speak.

The wind is blowing. Howling even. As a native Nevadan, I am used to the wind. Wind happens. But today, I stood outside my house in the street for about 10 minutes & let the wind gust around me, sending tumbleweeds, sticker bushes, & small items of trash from the House that Shall Remain Unidentified (hit the trash can with your stuff man!) The warmish yet bleak ‘winter wind’ reminded me that a new year is coming, & with it, a ‘new’ sameness. It’s a little bit awkward, because ts not like 2012 just arrives & all of the sudden everything is new – its just the flip of a page on the calendar… there is work, school, friends, relationships, & all sorts of the same types of interactions that 2011 had… but, 2012 brings the idea of something new, a mindset where people are, even for the briefest of times, open to the promise of possibility of a different, developing, new way.

I’m believing that God has & is setting in motion new things for me & mine in 2012, & am looking for the areas that I am to shift from how I have been & have lived in 2011 (& before) into the new patterns of life, new “good seeds of God’s plan” to plant in my life so that I can see the harvest, the developing fruit of what God would want to see in, through, & around me.

A door for a hobbit hole, navigating the plague, & other musings as Christmas approaches…

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My Hobbit DoorSpent the last several “Sunday Family Movie Nights” watching the LOTR (Lord of the Rings for the uninitiated,) & during the “Fellowship of the Ring,” I was hit by an epiphany: the hill directly across the street from my front door needs a “Hobbit Door.” Granted, in a perfect world, I would create an entire hobbit lair, but I can’t do that, for a plethora of reasons. A door, however, would most likely be a pretty easy install, & though it would go NOWHERE, you could imagine.

I mentioned it to theBean, & she wasn’t a fan. For some reason.

And then a backhoe showed up in front of my house. Obviously, I took this as a sign that God wanted me to have the Backhoe Guy dig a hole in the hill, & have a few handy friends come over to shore up the hill & ‘install’ a hobbit door. I could see the unveiling over next couple of months, complete with grass, flowers, a hobbit mailbox, & other accessories that I know that the neighbors (& of course city officials) would be very appreciative of.

As I was dreaming of all the upcoming construction, & mentally thanking the LORD for His providence at sending Backhoe Guy to my front porch, Backhoe Guy drove the backhoe up the hill to work on an install of some drainage pipe.

Noooo. Come back, says me.

It could still happen. I’m dreaming.

I have spent the last 10 days recovering from the flu – it was by far the ‘worst’ sickness I’ve endured in the last 20 years, as if there could be a ‘good’ sickness to have. The most troubling part of this sickness involved a renegade lymph node that swelled to the size of Kentucky. It was round, hard as a rock, & oh-so-conspicuous on the underside of my jaw, strategically placed on the left side. It was huge. TheWeez kindly said I resembled the dad from “Family Guy.” Though it has diminished in size due to prayer, antibiotics, & anti-inflammatories, I shall remember this little bundle of joy for all time.

As of Sunday, I am officially done with my first year (of two) of school in the pursuit of my Master’s degree. The year I’ve just completed is marked by a 4-week break from any real school activities. And there is great rejoicing!

Just about every day, in addition to my ‘regular’ Bible reading, I read the Psalms. My ‘way’ of reading them is to take whatever the date is today (the 20th,) & read Psalm 20, then add 30 & read Psalm 50, 80, 110, & 140. By doing this, I will have read through all 150 of the Psalms in a month.

A few weeks ago, I was given the Kathleen Norris book “The Cloister Walk” – I’d encourage you to check it out – & though it wasn’t something she recommended in the book, I felt compelled to return to reading my Psalms like I normally do, except OUT LOUD. One of the things I immediately noticed is the significant shift that happens when I have to slow down in order to speak each word, each phrase the psalmist has written. I find that I’m hanging on the words more, as though they are not just the words I’m reading, but are part of a prayer I’m praying, joining in with the church that has been praying these same psalms for thousands of years.

I am comforted by the humanity of the words, the acknowledgement of the suffering, need, and pain of the human condition, especially with how all of that is submitted to the glory & greatness of God. No whining. No complaining. No “woe is me” stands up to the fact that He is with me. He gives me peace, life, power, freedom, encouragement, and strength. And as I read, I sense the bedrock surety that is built in a life that depends on God & His Word.

Life is good. God is better.

I’m looking forward to 2012…