The Economy of the Kingdom

We don’t know how this works or how this is supposed to work.

But as we reach towards and imagine a place – an outpost – of the Kingdom of God, perhaps our summations of this economy with necessarily fall short.  On the demand side we see so much.  We see and know these boys who we are desperately trying to intertwine ourselves with.  We see and know a family at CCF with real needs and hurts.  We see and know a church that we so want to come alongside and support and be supported by.  We see and know our own hearts, and energies, and emotions, and relationships, and time, and finances.  We see and know a bit of our own frailty.  We see and we know much demand – and yet we see and know so little of the abundant demand and aridity and dryness of our own hearts and lives.

And yet on the supply side we have a God who graciously gives us all good gifts; who abundantly supplies for all our needs; who adds grace upon grace to the very fabric of our lives.  We have a God who does not withhold from His children.  No.  There are no supply issues here.

The God who graciously gives me this breath……and this breath……and this breath – just as I have need, is the God who delights to do so.

The God who knows my sterile and banal heart sends me this dawning day while the birds of Spring converse and hold vigil for the gifts of this day.

Pictures

Since the birth of this blog however many years ago now most (maybe all) of the pictures have been from around The Farm and several from Missy's grandparents' place (including the header). It's not just because I like this place (although I do) and it's not just because I'm here and this is what I have to photograph (although that's true too). No, there is a certain significance (maybe even "sacramental significance" - although we'll go there later) to the pictures of this place that reach far beyond their appeal or utility.

Going back to the passage in Philippians that I referenced in my previous post (Phil. 3:20-21) it seems to me that place matters because resurrection matters. We are, even now, citizens of a future land and that land is a land of resurrection. Philippians 3:21 ties Christ's resurrection to our resurrection and then he goes on to claim that it is this same "power that enables him even to subject all things to himself." All things.

It is this resurrection power, this resurrection hope, and this resurrection land in which our citizenship even now lies. We are even now citizens of that place. And because of that there is beauty and significance and hope and .... to these very particular and specific images from across this farm. Because we are even now citizens of a resurrection land.

Assignment

It's a beautiful day here. Hot, but beautiful. I've been eagerly anticipating (and noting to Missy how eagerly I have been anticipating) the coming of Spring. We've lived here on The Farm before during all three other seasons - but never Spring. Not such a big deal to Missy since she grew up here and has experienced many a beautiful Spring day here.

Yesterday was sunny and hot, too. And the trees have just exploded today. Driving home from work I was amazed by the traces of green covering the the giant trees to the west.

My dad recently gave me an assignment. He would like me to articulate my calling - our calling - here. With so many changes over the past year - and changes that we felt were a result of some sort of calling - what exactly (or, maybe not exactly) is it that we are here to do? What is it that we are about? How do we (and what we do) fit into the larger purposes of God and His Kingdom? How is the Gospel articulated in our home, our hands, our words, our desires?

Perhaps the next series of posts will be efforts towards answering those questions (and let it be said that this exercise is mostly for our own good and clarifying purposes).

First, a section from a book I've been reading. At Nature's Pace by Gene Logsdon. In the introduction he writes (and this is lengthy - I want to archive it here):

But my hope, my intention, is that this book exudes less anger or blame for the condition of rural society than it inspires love for the land and the value of rural life. If that love prevails, it will lead more people back to the farm. And what America needs again so desperately is a solid middle-class society of independent smallholders.

I do not farm on a large scale, nor do I farm for the money - though I do make a little. I farm for the enjoyment and to experiment with various methods which I hope will lead me to discover better ways of farming. I work to prepare the way for new farmers who must be found to take over the land when the megafarms disintegrate, as most of them will. I know of no other calling that could challenge me more, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

The joys of rural life, though they bear little resemblance to the overblown descriptions of Rosseauist romantics, are still very much realizable, a very real antidote to the restlessness and chaos that infect modern life. But rural life is a victim of the most inaccurate media-imaging in our cultural history - as bad as the imaging of the Native American. Too often, rural life is presented to an urban audience, already prejudiced against "local yokels," as a place of discontent, boredom, poverty, crudeness, despair, meanness, ignorance. Surely, these tendencies exist in the cross section of any community. And yet I know that just as there have always been people in farming who were unhappy because they were not fit for it, so there are thousands, perhaps millions of people in urban situations who are unhappy because they belong in farming and do not know it. They have the true farmer's spirit in them - that blend of creative artistry, independence, manual skill, and love of nurturing that marks the true farmer. If some of these people had been exposed to intelligent and craftsmanlike farming, perhaps they might be living on and working their own little farms. And with these hundreds of thousands of carefully kept little garden farms dotting the landscape, all of society would profit.

I hope readers of these essays share the vision I had as I wrote them: that sustainable farms are to today's headlong rush toward the earth's destruction what the monasteries were to the Dark Ages: places to preserve human skills and arts until some semblance of common sense and common purpose return to the public mind."

I think there might be some interesting implications to the thoughtful Christ-follower here. If the Gospel is much more than a "personal relationship with Jesus Christ" but is, in fact, Good News for all of Creation and if we are called to live now as the displaced citizens of that future country (Phil. 3:20) then our homes, our farms, our families, our churches ought to be places firmly rooted in the stuff of the here and now but that point to the future coming of our Savior who will then bring everything under his beneficent and life-giving control (Phil 3:20-21).

Towards a Theology of Farming

A person could write volumes on the intersection of Christian life and farming – and on the vast and various theological perspectives that would robustly support and uphold our care for farming and food production as Christians. There are numerous points and sub-points that one could argue from, but I would like to briefly mention five that I think lay a quite substantial groundwork for additional thought or discussion on the subject.

1. A Christian should care about food production and farming because the Earth is the Lord’s (Psalm 24). The cosmos was not created for us or around us. We do not, in any sense, own it – we are part of a larger Creation, all of which is the Lord’s. He made it for Himself and for His own glory. We are but creatures of the late sixth day (Genesis 1:24-31). All of Creation was brought forth by the Word of God as it was spoken into being, and each created thing of this inter-connected and whole Creation is but a member of a beautiful and profoundly articulate choir that moment-by-moment sings its Creator’s praise.

2. A Christian should care about food production and farming because we are created and called to be God’s representative to and towards the rest of Creation. We are stewards of all that God has made. We were (and are) made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26) and while this may mean we hold certain attributes (eg. moral reasoning) in our being that the rest of creation cannot claim – this “image of God” is also a calling. It is a calling (in a certain and limited sense) to be as God would be to His Creation. To serve as His representative to all that He has made.

This “imaging God” or “Stewardship” is an active task as Genesis 2:15 points out. We were created to “work and keep the garden.” The Hebrew words translated as “work” (abad) and “keep” (shamar) in this verse are words that could have been just as easily translated as “serve” and “protect.” Our “Stewardship” and “God-representing” is not only for our good – but for the good of the whole Creation. Or, at least, that is how things were intended to be (but sadly, often are not).

3. A Christian should care about food production and farming because farming and food production are gifts from God (Genesis 1:29ff). These are not accidental arrangements of history, evolution, or biology. We were created with the need for food – and God has provided, from the Earth, that which we need. Those of us who are not daily consumed with the elements of food production are really exceptions to the rule in all of human history. Up until the industrial revolution at the earliest and the post-WWII era at the latest most people in most places at most times on this planet did not have the option or luxury (is it a luxury?) to not care about food production and/or farming. This fact of life served as a daily reminder of our connection with, dependence on, and provision from this gift from God.

4. A Christian should care about food production and farming because Jesus cared about food production and farming. Our Savior did not live hovering a few feet off the ground, but was firmly rooted in the stuff of earth and lived close to it. His was not a spiritual existence if that means it was not physical. Jesus of Nazareth was thoroughly physical, human, and earthy. He is, after all, referred to as “the Second Adam.”

While not a farmer, Jesus’ trade was carpentry and he certainly knew the names of trees. He was intimately involved with a number of fisherman who followed him as disciples. He cooked a breakfast of fish for his close friends after the resurrection. The stories he told often included pastoral or agrarian imagery. His first miracle involved the transformation of water into wine. He was often accused of being a glutton and drunkard – two charges that we would dismiss. However, he evidently enjoyed food and wine.

5. A Christian should care about food production and farming because Christians yearn towards Kingdom of God – a Kingdom characterized by Shalom. Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. of Calvin College has defined Shalom as, “The webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment and delight.” One day Christ will return, the Kingdom will be consummated, and the Shalom of all things will be established. On that day we will continue to care for food production and farming as we dine at the Lord’s table, feast from His fields, and drink well-aged wine from his vineyard.

All our efforts will be gathered up into that day – and all those days to follow – for our tables now are but echoes of that future day, our fields now are but whispers of that coming hour, our goblets and cellars and vineyards now are but shadows of that certain celebration. We are a people who live now in the light of a future hope – and that future hope yet holds within it food production and farming.

Journal Entry: A New Life on the Farm

A new life on the farm. Financial needs being met by the Lord through the provision of a job. Without that job and weekly paycheck the Lord would have led and provided otherwise - but we are amazed at the way these things have come together.

And yet the central thrust - the whole and purposed life to which we are called - is yet mysterious to us. It is yet unshaped and ill-defined - however real and substantial it might be. I hesitate to call it farming - and yet it is. I hesitate to call it agrarian - and yet it is. I hesitate to call it pastoring - and yet it is.

Certainly the goal, the pursuit, the purpose is not to pursue "farming" or "agrarianism" or "pastoring" or any other such thing. The center to this all is a life of wholeness that carries with it and in it a certain integrity and durable continuity between ourselves, this place, and the resurrection of all things.

I hesitate to write such seemingly high-minded sentiments - but what else is there and how else would I put it?

Because of who we are, how we are created, and who the Lord is redeeming us to be; because of this rural place with its fields and farms - its history and heritage; because Christ is risen from the dead and God in Christ is reconciling the world to himself this is what we are called to be and do.

Reflection on Grace - Sunday, July 25, 2010

Today I would like to offer maybe more of a personal reflection than a sermon perhaps. You note-takers out there can put down your pens and paper and just listen. Just listen. Listen with your ears and your hearts to a simple story of a simple woman who has simply transformed the lives of many by the grace-filled story that she allowed herself to be spoken out of, breathed into, and acted from. This is a thoroughly biblical story – however, we may not arrive to any chapters or verses until much later. Until then, let me tell you a story that begins in the early 1960s.

It was in the early 60s that a young mother-of-four chose to take a class at Buena Vista College (now Buena Vista University) in Storm Lake, Iowa. She was a voracious reader and had a mind that was interested and fascinated by the details and beauty of life. The class was to be on the “Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth” and was taught by an old, retired Methodist pastor. A pastor who prayed that while teaching the facts of and about Jesus – perhaps one, even just one, of the students in his class would come to not only know about Jesus – but would actually come to know Jesus.

And this young mother-of-four did.

This mother-of-four who was raised on Des Moines’ east side in a small house shaded by large oak trees that still stand. Her father had shock-white hair and was a legendary coach and math teacher at Des Moines East High School. He was known as “Quiet Mike.” Her mother’s name was Florence and she had an older sister named Ellen.

She had grown up in a family that didn’t ever really go to church. They were good people – well respected, quiet, hardworking. But they were not religious or even spiritual. Our mother-of-four graduated from high school and ended up studying at Iowa State College. She received her degree in Home Economics and was to be a Home Economics teacher in High School. But while at Iowa State she met a member of the Iowa State football team. He was a farm-boy from northwest Iowa and was itching to get back and farm once he graduated college. This football star and our mother-of-four were married and eventually returned home to the farm just south of Rolfe, Iowa. This now-husband of our mother-of-four was the third generation to farm this land in Pocahontas County. He and his bride moved into the large farmhouse that his father had built and they created a life for themselves. He worked hard in the field, she worked hard in the kitchen and in the garden. They had children – three in quick succession and then one more a few years later on.

Our third-generation farmer had grown up going to the Presbyterian Church in Rolfe. So, upon returning to the farm – that’s where he and his new bride continued to go to church. In fact his whole family went to that church. His father was one of 12 children – most of whom stayed in the area so the Presbyterian Church in Rolfe was filled with uncles, aunts, and cousins. Our mother-of-four had no difficulty going to church. She had nothing against church or Christianity or religion – in fact, she thought it was pretty interesting stuff. Her children attended Sunday School and learned about Jesus. They said grace at meals and read the Bible.

This mother-of-four was a good woman. She did the right thing and was well thought of in her community, church, and family. She was quiet and reserved – but not overly so. So listened well and was loyal. She had a sense of right and wrong – and wanted to do the right thing, live a good life, and raise a healthy and happy family.

She liked to read and had a naturally curious mind so she would occasionally take college classes, attend lectures, and read books. Not a lot – her life was not filled with these sorts of things (she was both a mother and farmers-wife after all) – but she would pursue things and ideas with her mind as her time and life permitted.

So, she decided to take a class on Jesus. She had been going to church for a number of years with her husband at the Presbyterian Church in Rolfe and had heard a lot about him. She knew he was important – but didn’t really feel like she knew all that much about him. So, she took the class. And that old Methodist pastor’s prayer was answered.

Our mother-of-four – my Grandma – came to know Jesus during the course of that class in Storm Lake, Iowa. Over the course of a decade of regular and faithful church attendance she had come to know quite a bit about Jesus – but she came to see during this small and seemingly inconsequential class that that wasn’t enough. That knowing about Jesus was great – but that was not the same as knowing Jesus himself. At the conclusion of the class – on the last day as the story goes – this old Methodist pastor presented the Gospel of Grace to the people in his class. A message of joy to my grandmother’s ears. For, up till that point, she had just kind of assumed that doing the right thing, reading her Bible, and going to church is what mattered. But she found out that it didn’t. She found out that it was all about Grace.

And that’s what this little reflection is all about this morning: Grace. That’s a word that we throw around a lot in the church. God’s Grace. The Gospel of Grace. Saved by Grace. But, what is Grace?

Grace is an underserved gift. Unmerited favor. Unearned joy. Uncultivated bounty. Untended flourishing. Unworked for rest.

Grace is God coming to us – not us going to God. For we are neither strong enough nor wise enough to find our way to him. Grace is God loving us – not us loving God. For we are neither faithful enough nor humble enough to give ourselves to him with our whole hearts.

And God in his Grace says, “That’s right. You are not strong enough, not wise enough, not faithful enough, not humble enough.” But then God says, “But in your condition I will come to you. I will pursue you. I will find you. I will save you. I will make you my child. This is only because I love you. Do you understand?”

We read of this Grace - this love that God has for us - in the book of Ephesians. The apostle Paul writes, And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience – among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved – and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works so that no man may boast.”

But we often fail to understand – we fail to grasp the breadth and length and height and depth – of the love of Christ. And it wasn’t until that class in Storm Lake that my grandma knew this unearned and given love – this Grace. She had known that God is love, she had heard of the Grace in Christ Jesus – but she had not known that Jesus loved her. That he had come for her, that he had died as a substitute for her, that he rose again and had conquered the forces of death that had hold on her. Now it was personal.

But now she knew and she knew him. She learned that she could come before him in prayer boldly and bravely – knowing that she was completely loved and utterly washed clean and forgiven. This did not make her self-righteous or religious or pious – but full of joy. Because she knew that the good life that she had lived was of no consequence – it didn’t matter at all - when it came to his love. She opened her hands and accepted his love and the gift of his Grace – and she was changed, and changed forever.

Her four children noticed that their mother was so happy now. That is what they remember of this time. All of a sudden they sensed their mother’s joy. She was at rest in the depth of God’s love for her. She knew that she was his daughter and that she could find rest in him. And a family was transformed because of Grace.

I could go on about the details of my grandma’s life – they would, perhaps, benefit us as we attempt to reflect on Grace this morning. But the purpose of my telling these personal stories are not so much about the personal stories in themselves – for the stories serve as but a testament, a testimony, of the Grace of God.

For God’s Grace that is demonstrated in my grandma’s life continues to go forward. While I was growing up she had (and still has) an old music box that looks like a church. It is made out of some sort of metal sheeting and painted brown or tan. It looks like a little country church made out of tin – a little smaller than a shoe box. But at one end of this tin church is a handle crank that a person can wind up, let go, and hear the tune of Amazing Grace. Whenever I hear that old hymn I think of my grandmother’s silly little music box - that was a sort of toy. But I remember singing the words of that hymn with my grandmother to the clink-y notes of that music box. Words that I had no context for, no life-experience to appreciate, no real failures to find comfort in. But as we sang the words – my grandma teaching them to me as we went along – I could tell that we were no longer playing with a toy. We weren’t really playing at all anymore. Something else had happened – something deep and serious – and yet full of joy. I didn’t know it at the time – and certainly wouldn’t have put it like this then – but we were worshiping. We were worshiping the God of Grace – the Grace that had so transformed by grandma’s heart and life. “Out of the mouths of babes and infants…” as the verse goes. We were singing:

Amazing Grace/how sweet the sound/That saved a wretch like me/I once was lost but now am found/Was blind, but now I see.
The testimonies and stories that are tied and connected to this story are many. I have heard some, guessed a few, and will never know most. Stories of God’s Grace going forward through my grandma’s simple life of joy in her weakness, but God’s strength. Her failures, but God’s Grace. Stories of her church, family, and community – and all the little connections and people and places in between. For many more families were transformed by God’s Grace. But these aren’t really my stories to tell.
But I do have my story to tell - my own testimony to God’s Grace. And it certainly is not worth telling because of how great everything is, or turns out, but it is worth telling because of how it demonstrates and tells of the Grace of God.
I don’t know a time in my life when I didn’t love Jesus and desire to follow Him. I had prayed to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior when I was 6. I believed that He had died on the cross for my sins. I was a serious little boy and I remember taking spiritual things pretty seriously. Of course, there’d be ups and downs. I’d go to camp and be “on fire” for God for a while – but then kind of come back down to earth. I’d be really good and diligent about having a regular quiet time for weeks and maybe months at a time – but then things would cool off, I’d get busy, or whatever else would happen. I’m sure I believed that I was saved by Grace – but I had really no clue as to how Grace continued to apply to my life.

I think my general mindset was – and maybe some of you can relate with me here – I was saved by Grace, by the free gift of salvation by Jesus dying on the cross for my sins, and now I was trying to follow him, obey him, and do the right things for him. Basically, I believed that I was saved by Grace but was made a “good Christian” by the hard work of doing the right thing out of some sense of loyalty or duty or obligation for the one who had saved me.

And this whole arrangement worked out just fine while things were going well, while I was strong and at peace, while I could manage and protect my life. But halfway through college things began to fall apart. I endured several painful relationships that went bad, I was depressed and confused about the most basic elements of faith and life, and I was just plain-old exhausted by my life of always working so hard to be and do the right thing out of obligation to God.

I dropped out – leaving the small-Christian college that I was attending. I moved to the quiet and dark woods of the northern Minnesota border. And the Lord showed him the depth of his Grace for me. In his Word and in Creation He showed me that my continued goodness and hardwork amounted to nothing - that I was exhausting myself in righteousness – not because it pleased God– but because I wanted to avoid him. I wanted control of my life – to rely on God for salvation, but to then kind of leave Grace for the people who just didn’t quite have it all together. I knew there were people who needed God’s Grace – and I knew that He would gracious give it to them – so they could get back on their feet and get it back together like me. Basically living a self-sufficient and righteous life out of my own strength and goodness – out of duty, obligation, and loyalty to God.
But God drowned me in his love and He transformed my life by Grace. He showed me that it was ALL ABOUT grace – from beginning to end. There was no moving past it. It is Grace that continues to transform us – not righteousness. It is Grace plus nothing, Grace and nothing, Grace but nothing, Grace then nothing. We attempt to add to Grace for many reasons perhaps – but for me (then as now) I attempt to add to Grace to stay in control, to make myself worthy of something – even if only in my own eyes, to keep myself from being completely and utterly at the mercy of God. I attempt to add to Grace that others might think well of me – that the Father might reserve a special place in His heart for me.

But these are lies, lies, lies. It is Grace that continues to transform – not righteousness. We add nothing to the equation. There is no pulling yourself up by the bootstraps, no helping yourself, no saving yourself, no proving yourself. There is only Grace – the free gift of God’s love and transforming power for those who look to him and accept it. Salvation and the Christian Life is no gentleman’s agreement whereby we sort of sit down at a table with the Lord and domestically arrange the terms of our salvation and discipleship. Salvation and the Christian Life is the desperate losing of oneself in the love of God that He has endlessly pours down upon us – most perfectly and completely in Christ Jesus.

There is a familiar passage in the book of Luke that resonates here. It is the story that we call “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” And the way we often tell the story is to emphasize the Grace of God to the prodigal, lost, or younger son. We are amazed by the depth of God’s Grace for the one who utterly rejected him and turned to the pleasures and pursuits of the world. And that is certainly a key portion to the story. But there is another son as well – the elder son. The son who has always has done everything right. The son who has worked hard at his righteousness. The son who has been attempting to merit something in the sight of his father.

As I read this familiar passage this morning – let me ask you: Which son are you?
There was a man who had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of property that is coming to me.” And he divided his property between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took a journey into a far country, and there hr squandered his property in reckless living. And when he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. And he was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything.

But when he came to himself, he said, “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.” And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his servants, “Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” And they began to celebrate.

Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.” But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” And he said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost and is found.”

Well, let me say, that I am often the elder brother. That is what I saw when I dropped out of college – nearly 10 years ago now. Which are you? We all sin – yes, of course. But is your righteousness an effort to stay away from the awful mercies of God? Are your good works little efforts of proving your worth to God, your family, or – even – yourself? Is Grace something that you begrudgingly give those who “need it” – but you are able to function pretty well without it?

If this describes you as it often does me, you may need to repent of your righteousness. That’s right. Repent of your good works. I, you, all of us are prone to use our hard work, respectability, and goodness in the same way that the younger son used his wild and crazy ways – to distance ourselves from the Father by showing ourselves to not really need him, to keep control of our lives, to show ourselves not to be so desperately in need of his Grace to us.

This reflection on Grace is mostly for those elder brothers out there – people recovering from their righteousness. People like me. People who, perhaps, are tired of living by duty, obligation, and loyalty – people who want to live freely in his love, swim lengths in his provision, and dive to the depths of his Grace.

If that’s you let me encourage you to let go. Let go of your righteousness and your hard work and your goodness. I know it’s not easy if that’s what your life has been all about – but you will only manage to damage yourself and those around you if you live by your righteousness. Let Grace sweep you away.

And that – I think – is maybe how my grandma’s simple testimony to Grace has been so profound. It is Grace that continues to transform us into the people that God calls us to be – never righteousness. Really, if you met my grandmother, you would not be amazed by her charisma, charm, or personality. She is just a mother-of-four. A farmers-wife. But she has allowed herself to swim in the breadth and length and height and depth of God’s love for her. His love that is freely given to you. His gift of Grace. Let us pray.

Boy, wouldn't I love to...

"...dwell securely in the wilderness and sleep in the woods."

Ezekiel 34:25b