The Sand on the Shore

Sit on the shore, as the sunset fades,

run your fingers through the sand

grip,

grasp,

squeeze,

as the grains flee downward.

Now scoop broadly, loosely, gently

some grains fall,

some stick to finger tips,

most rest.

Notice mica, silica, granite

endless sizes, shades, shapes.

The stars begin to assemble,

glinting into the night,

answering the roll call

of Abraham’s descendants.   

 

Traveling Off the Map

As I wrote last week, it was my birthday last Thursday.  Eleven years ago, also on a Thursday, I turned 22.  That day I happened to listen to “Let That Be Enough” by Switchfoot. 

It was an interesting coincidence, and the song struck me.  At that time I was in an in between place.  I had graduated from college in Maryland, where most of my friends lived, and was back at my Dad’s house in Massachusetts working a temporary summer job.  My parents had divorced that year, I had no friends from high school, and I really had no idea what I was doing.  I had reached the edge of the map, so to speak.  It was always assumed that I would go to college, so when I finished that, there weren’t any more plans to follow.  “Let That Be Enough” really resonated. 

Shortly thereafter, in a turn of events that surprised me and everyone who knew me, I moved out to the Pacific Northwest, September 30th to be exact.  And thus began an amazing new chapter of my life.  I’ve lived here eleven years now and with last Thursday’s birthday, I feel like I’m beginning a new chapter.  This chapter doesn’t begin with moving, but it does push further off the map into uncharted (for me) territory.  The things I learn or struggle with along the way will make it onto my blog to share with you. 

One element of beginning a new chapter is reflecting on the old.  Or to use the map metaphor, looking back over where you’ve traveled.  Birthdays on Facebook mean wall posts with birthday wishes.  This year I took extra joy in all of the posts from friends.  Here, in one place, were birthday wishes from friends from every season and sphere of my life.  I was thankful, blessed, and humbled by all the people I’ve connected with over my thirty-three years.  I’ve traveled much, both metaphorically and literally, and I’ve been blessed to have shared so many different stretches of road with you, my friends and family, fellow journeyers on this road of life.  Thank you, and here’s to the next chapter!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Consider this post your birthday party goodie bag, filled with random bits of fun stuff, not really connected at all.

 Today I turn thirty-three.  Which is how old Jesus was when He started His work.  So I should probably get busy now.  :o)

One of my favorite non-main Star Trek characters is Lwaxana Troi.  She is quite eccentric and has this really impressive string of official titles.  She is Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, the Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed.  Along the theme of names, titles are that by which one is known.  I've been feeling like in this last season of my life, Jesus has been expanding my titles:

Sarah, Princess, Dear One,
Bat-Melek, Daughter of the King,
a Woman Unashamed.

I do in fact intend to blog more regularly.  I've been shooting for one a week, but hitting one a month.  As a birthday is a new start (like New Years), I'm going to be diving back in to blogging with renewed intentionally.  So stay tuned!

I've been tweeting one "Random thing for which I am #thankful" each day.  You can follow me on Twitter @Batmelek.  If you've missed it, let me get you caught up:

Random things for which I am #thankful:
—good headphones and music recorded in stereo.
—bosses who have and show compassion for their employees.
—salmon and hazelnuts!
—straight up blue, (the color of the sky directly above you on a clear day), and its memories.
—the resiliency of two year olds!
—rocking out to @Superchick !
—Tuba! #Tuba #Tuba #Tuba #yesalwayscapitalized #showrespect
—that I am not a Vulcan. (Though Vulcans are still cool. LLAP)
—Stewie’s unbridled enthusiasm when I pick up his leash.
—analogy and metaphor, and their cousin parable.
—the smell of rice cooking.  

And lastly, a picture of my parents and me.

I'm off to eat my birthday tomato soup cake, catch you next week!

Princess

"You said princess."
"What?"
"When she asked what your name meant, you said princess."
"Well, that's what it means."
"But I've never heard you just say princess. You usually explain more."

A good friend of eleven years shared this observation with me two weeks ago. He was referring to what happened at church when I asked for prayer about a guest blog post I had written. And he was right. When the topic of what one's name means comes up, I almost always explain that Sarah is Hebrew for princess, and while I like my name, princess makes you think of pink and frilly girly things, which isn't me.

I give my name explanation a bit more often than most because it's usually in the context of someone asking me what is on my ring. 

It reads in Hebrew:  

שָׂרָה בַת-מֶלֶךְ  

which is pronounced Sarah BatMelek (which is where the title of my blog comes from). Sarah means princess. BatMelek is a compound word. Bat is daughter and Melek is king, so it means daughter of the king. The essence of a princess is that she is a daughter of a king, and as Christians, we are all children of the King. I studied in Israel for a semester in college and a friend there gave me the nickname BatMelek. It's how I became reconciled with the meaning of my name—it wasn’t just pink and frilly, but had cool theological significance!  And my ring, which I had made in Israel, is an ever present tangible reminder of who I am--a daughter of the King.

Interestingly, I thought that the grammar wasn't right in the Hebrew of the nickname my friend gave me. It's a noun construct and I thought the "the" definite article was missing. Several years later, I was talking with God—in a season when He wasn't replying much—and I asked Him how I was doing. Was I doing good, bad, indifferent? I just didn't know. So what did He think? God was being quiet again, so I went through the motions of my habit of reading and praying in the morning. Just as I was about to get ready for the day, I remembered that I hadn't read a psalm yet. I like to cycle through the book of Psalms, not randomly, but from one to 150 in order and back to the beginning again. That morning the next psalm up was number 45. I was in the NASB version and was just reading along until I was floored by verse 13a:

The King’s daughter is all glorious within;

Well, that's me! Any other translation wouldn't have grabbed my attention.  Most of them say princess and fill in where that “within” is, instead of leaving it open ended like the Hebrew (see here).

God answered my beginning question of how I was doing--which was really a question of worth and value--in the psalm I almost forgot to read.  The king's daughter, me, is presently all glorious within.  That He saw me as all glorious within, right then, in the middle of the process of walking with Him.

And it gets better. I decided to geek out a bit and pull out my Hebrew tools. I was interested in finding out more about what "all glorious within" meant. But what I really found was that "king's daughter" was BatMelek. Spelled exactly like my ring. So it really was me!

That's why my answer to the question of what my name means is usually not the simple one word, princess. I have a really cool story about how I came to terms with what my name means and it’s fun to share cool God stuff.

I love psalm 45. And that is one of my very most favorite moments with God. But it just dawned on me this week that BatMelek, daughter of the King, is a definition.  BatMelek defines my position with God—He is King and I am His daughter.  But Sarah, princess, is a term of endearment.  The current Disney princess craze wasn’t happening twenty-five years ago.  And because I actually never have liked pink and frilly things, I don’t remember anyone ever calling me a little princess.   Except that princess is what my name means.  Names are declarations over people (I’ll expand on that in a later blog post).  So every single time someone says my name, God’s term of endearment is spoken over me.  "Sarah, princess, dear one." The presence of the ring on my finger reminds me of who I am relationally to God. Hearing my name now is a reminder of who God says I am--His princess, dear one.

So the next time someone asks me what my name means, I’ll say, “Princess.”  And smile.

-----------------------------

This is part one in what will be an occasional “What's in a Name” series.

I think God is fond of nicknames. He takes many and likes to give them.  Today ask God what He thinks of you. What is He calling you? Not what is He calling you to, but what is He calling you? What is His nickname for you?

Barking at Fireworks

Image: my own photo

Stewie, my dog, doesn’t like fireworks. 

Not in a I-don’t-like-peas-but-I’ll-eat-them-if-there’s-enough-mashed-potatoes-to-cover-them sort of don’t like fireworks.  More like the I-don’t-like-velociraptors-figuring-out-how-to-open-doors sort of way.  It’s a deep hatred for Stewie and it triggers his fight or flight response.  The trouble is, he’s missing the flight part, so my 95lbs black lab mix runs at the windows and doors, barking his thunderous bark at every boom of a firework.  Oh, and the county in which I live allows some pretty serious personal fireworks.  So for five days I’ve got a freaking out dog on my hands. 

Last year I tried giving him Benadryl.  It made him groggy, but didn’t lessen his freaking out barking.  I think he was more frustrated by the drugged feeling of not being alert, and so fought it more.  So this year I’ve used a multifaceted plan of helping Stewie cope.  We went for a five mile walk this morning.  I haven’t let him nap all day.  I’ve got the (white) noisy fan in the bathroom going, and classical music at the upper limits of comfortably loud.  He’s had the maximum recommended dose of doggie herbal calming tablets.  He hasn’t had any dinner, and I’m going to give him a big beef bone to focus on, right when it gets dark and the fireworks kick into high gear.  On the milder nights leading up to the fourth, I cut up several hot dogs, and every time we heard a firework, I gave Stewie a piece of hot dog and told him he was a good boy. 

My friends who have kids say that they learn an amazing amount about God through their children.  Well, I learn a lot about God through Stewie.  I’m not saying that he’s like a kid.  I am emphatically not Stewie’s mom.  I am not a doggie parent, I am a dog owner.  But that said, Stewie is a heck of a lot more work (and reward) than a hamster, and God really likes to speak to me in object lessons.  Therefore, Stewie plays a part of my spiritual formation in this stage of my life.  This time, help Stewie with the fireworks reminded me of something God showed me years ago, and added a layer of meaning to it.

A number of years ago I was going through a particarlly rough patch.  One night I had a dream that I was out on a battle field but terribly wounded.  God, as a knight on a horse, comes charging over at the head of a group of calvary, picks me up, and rides out from the midst of battle into a castle.  In the infirmary, my wounds tended and resting, God’s sitting beside my bed.  We’re inside the castle, but in my semi-delirious state, we can hear the roar of battle, and I’m flinching at every sound.  God is patiently calming and soothing me. 

When I woke up, I read the bible in the morning.  At the time I was cycling through the book of Psalms, reading one or two psalms a day.  That morning, the next psalm was the 18th. Go ahead and read it.  The highlights are:

1I love you, O Lord, my strength.
² The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
    my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,

….

¹⁶ He sent from on high, he took me;
    he drew me out of many waters.

…

¹⁹ He brought me out into a broad place;
    he rescued me, because he delighted in me.

…

³⁵ You have given me the shield of your salvation,
    and your right hand supported me,
    and your gentleness made me great.

The psalm of the day mirrored my dream.  At the time it was a great comfort, that God had rescued me, but was still patient as He and I worked through the ramifications of what He’d rescued me from.  That instead of being mad or disappointed that I still had issues to work through, He was patient and understanding of the process. 

Now several years later, helping Stewie deal with the fireworks gives me a whole new appreciation for how awesome God’s patience with me then (and now) is!  With Stewie, I get frustrated that I can’t explain to him that he’s inside, the fireworks can’t hurt him, that his barking will do nothing, and it would be best if he’d just chill out and go to sleep!  I feel like saying, “Dog! Will you just believe me!  You’re OK! Calm down already!”  How much more should I believe God when He tells me not to worry?  Or when He tells me to rest?  What a difference there is between me and God!  He’s not annoyed like I am with Stewie, but patient and gentle.  

Oh, and God doesn’t try to bribe me with hot dogs.  :o)

A Woman Unashamed - Addendum

Welcome to my blog!  And a special welcome to you if you’re visiting after reading my guest post on Renee Fisher’s Devotional Diva.  This entry is a companion reader to that post, which Renee wonderfully named, “A Woman Unashamed”.

That post started off by saying that I don’t like writing out of emotions.  And I don’t.  That didn’t start off as a guest post.  It started off as an email.  And it was an email because commenting on Renee’s blog seemed too public.  It’s ok if you laughed, I find God’s sense of humor very funny, too.

I also believe that God is big enough for our emotions—joy, sorrow, anger, confusion, whatever.  And that wrestling with God is really really important.  You’re not less of a person for not understanding or not sheepishly accepting things.  Needing to wrestle things out with God makes you more of a person, in my opinion.  Jacob might also agree. 

However, we weren’t designed to be lone rangers either, but for community.  So there is a certain healthy level of venting to another human being that we need.  I’m still learning what that healthy level is, and while I’ve erred on both sides—silence and vocal—my major tendency is to err on the side of silence.  Both sides can be destructive. 

Here’s a picture of how I see that venting works:  If you’re an introvert like me, you process your ideas, emotions, frustrations, problems in your head.  When I’m doing that, sometimes I reach a point where churning the ideas and thoughts over and over ceases to produce anything new or useful.  It’s just the same ideas/emotions rehashed, bouncing around inside my head.  They bounce off each other, picking up speed and energy, and soon it’s like a nightmarish game of junior high dodge ball, where you’re stuck in the middle and everyone’s target.  Even if I know what’s True, I can’t hear it because I’m getting pelted by spiky balls of frustrated (often negative) thoughts. 

When I finally get around to venting (why I take so long is a completely different matter for another day), speaking the thoughts ricocheting around the inside of my head releases them.  They come out, and in the process, I both actually hear what I’ve been thinking, and make room for me to hear the truth.  Once all the thoughts are out, there is now space for me to really listen. 

The key element of venting is having another person hear you—really hear your heart.  Journaling, or driving around yelling in your car, while they certainly have their place, don’t quite work the same way.  When you journal or talk to yourself, you’re still keeping your thoughts.  When talking with another human being, you’re giving them a piece of yourself.  Giving your thoughts to another forces you to take your thoughts out of the dark of isolation, and expose them to the light of communion.   

Shame can be a self perpetuating thing, because shame wants to hide.  And when shame is hidden, it grows.  Shame tells you that exposure is the worst thing that could possibly happen.  It is—it’s the worst thing that can happen to that thing causing you shame.  Exposure, done prayerfully and with wisdom, will go to the root of that shame and bring healing and freedom.  And, consequently, be one of the best things that could possibly happen.

I’m still in process.  When Renee asked if she could use my email as a post, I thought I must be crazy to agree.  But I also knew it was right.  I hope you get benefit from a glimpse of my journey, and if you’d like to chat more leave a comment or send me a message.

I recommend checking out Isaiah 54.  Go ahead and read the whole chapter, but here are some highlights that I’ve been pondering:

“Enlarge the place of your tent, 

and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out;

do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes. …

Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; 

do not be confounded, for you will not be disgraced;

for you will forget the shame of your youth …

For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed,

but my steadfast love shall not depart from you,

and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,” 

says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

God's Eternal Purpose

             God's 

                       eternal 

                                   purpose

Individually, those are three very weighty words. Pair any two and the gravity causes you to pause in an orbit of thought. All three and I'm headed for a crash landing of prolonged contemplation.

But tonight, I'm under the g-force pressure of another weighty thought--the vehicle or means by which God announces that eternal purpose.

Image: Piyaphon / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Check out Ephesians 3:7-12. I hadn't seen this before. Did you know that we, corporately, are the vehicle for God's eternal purpose? That according to the eternal purpose of God, "the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places"--through the Church!!

The manifold wisdom of God is made known through the Church! Which begs the question, what is the Church? The Greek word just means congregation, or assembly--a gathering of people. And people gather around something. Congress gathers to make laws. Flash mobs gather to sing and dance in public places. What makes the Church different from Congress or or a flash mob, is that the Church gathers to remember and worship Jesus. Any and all people who get together in Jesus' name, inviting the Holy Spirit among them to come do what He does best--glorify Jesus (John 16:13-14)--those people are the Church, doctrinal preferences notwithstanding.

To reiterate, those who gather to glorify Jesus are the Church. The Church is the means by which God announces His eternal purpose.  The Church is made up of Christians--literally, little Christs. Other people gave the early Church the nickname Christians (Acts 11:26), because they represented Jesus in their conduct so fully, it was as if they were miniature Jesuses. What was it in their conduct that struck people so intently as to nickname them Christian? Well, Jesus said how His followers would be identified, "By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)

So to bring back around to where I started--how important is it that the people who gather in Jesus' name love each other? Crazy important! The Church is recognized as the Church by the love we show to one another. (And denominational allegiance is not a prerequisite for this love, by the way.) Through the Church, which is bound and recognized by love, the manifold wisdom of God is made known, and God's eternal purpose is accomplished.

They'll know we are Christians by our love.  The Church is recognized as the Body of Christ gathered through the way we live out our love for one another.  When the Church is recognized, God can then use it to proclaim His eternal purpose to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.  The Church is key.  And our love is key.

Wow. That's amazing. It seems fitting to borrow a benediction from John, the disciple whom Jesus loved: Therefore beloved, let us love one another.