Some very exciting items are beginning to accumulate in my dining room. There are travel hair appliances, a travel bag, a neck pillow, a name tag, luggage tags, and an itinerary.

Did you spy the LPM logo? Our whole LPM crew and lots of our volunteers are taking a journey together in a couple of weeks. Wanna guess where we’re going?

The Holy Land!

My passport’s a little rusty, but it still works!

When I was 17 years old I had the amazing blessing of going to Israel with my mom. I found that old photo album this morning. Pardon the unfortunate quality of these pictures. I don’t have a scanner and rather than drag my babies up to the office to use theirs, I just took pictures of my pictures. I’m a skilled blogger, y’all!  Melissa and I are going to blog from Israel and I don’t want to steal our future thunder, so these will be pretty random.

Here I am in the airport with my friend Debbie.

Here’s Mom in a funny hat on our 12 hour layover in London. I fell in love with England that day.

This is Mom with Mary Helen Davis, whom our resource center is named after. We love her so much.

This is something that will never happen again as long as I live – a mother-daughter overalls picture. Wrong…very, very wrong.

Here’s the wonderful Nancy Mattingly in the airport on our way home. I’m sure she was calling her family to say she would see them soon. Her youngest, Sara, would have been 5 years old at the time. Sara is now my kids’ babysitter and her graduation announcement is sitting on my counter. Time? It is a’flyin’!

Have you ever been to the Holy Land? If so, what is one of your favorite memories of being there? If you’ve never made the pilgrimage but hope to one day, what do you look forward to experiencing?

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At fifteen months old, Annabeth…

Loves her baby dolls.

Has hair that can be experimented with.

Is adorable in her summer shorts.

Is trying to get the hang of sippy cups.

Loves this enormous book about animals. Sometimes we hide it from her because she also gets mad at it.

Is ready for the pool!

Finds the trampoline electrifying.

Likes to scribble on the magnadoodle.

Went on a mother-daughter lunch date at a tea room.

Took a walk with Pappaw.

Learned to say “Bibby” only moments before this picture was taken.

Took a wild ride with her brother pushing the stroller…and loved it.

Tried using a spoon (that was too long). She stabbed the cheerios with it and then used her fingers.

Loves being outside. (But it’s only May.)

Is highly entertained by this water table.

Check back this weekend for a Mother’s Day video and greeting from Beth!

PS – Please pray for Siesta Mama as she films five segments for Life Today tonight and tomorrow. Ask Him to give her anointing, strength, endurance, a great connection with the audience, and for Jesus to be magnified through His Word. Thank you so much!

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Siestas, today is the National Day of Prayer.  Let’s take time to focus our attention on praying for our nation. It thrills us that many of you are in other nations besides the U.S.A., and we welcome you to join in with prayers for your country.

If you’d like to, use the comment box to post a brief prayer. (That obviously doesn’t need to limit how much you actually pray, but it helps us as we moderate if the comments are not too long.) I’m going to let my words be few so that we can get to praying!

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I wonder if anyone but me has a loved one (whose identity I will guard with my life) who suffers from a little known fear I have chosen to call Trashcanaphobia. Maybe it is not your loved one. Maybe it is you. See if any of this sounds familiar. Sufferers of Trashcanaphobia inexplicably leave all sorts of things – used Splenda packets, or even running shoes, for instance – on otherwise spotless kitchen counters for hours on end or until a codependent loved one moves them. Here’s the definitive part of the diagnosis: and all the while with the trash can only a few feet away. After watching this strange phenomenon for a matter of years (I’ll not say exactly how many), I have come to the conclusion that said sufferer cannot help it. Said sufferer obviously has a terror of trash cans.

Here is a recent documentation of this little-explored and afore unexplained phenomenon:

This very morning, my mind was even further expanded concerning phobias when Melissa’s cell phone dropped in the middle of rich conversation as it does every single morning. I called her back and got the usual voice mail, then about 10 minutes later like clockwork she rang my line. I answered the phone with, “I bet anything your cell battery was dead.”

“Yep, it was.” (It almost always is.) “Colin told me yesterday that he can come up with no further explanation for why I constantly have a dead battery except for an undiagnosed fear of phone chargers.”

So, that’s two of them in our family at least. We’ll call that one “Cellchargaphobia.” I think my daughters told you several years ago that I have a phobia of unfried foods. We’ll call it “Unfriedaphobia.” I’ve gotten some victory over it the last few years but it is still my phobia of choice.

So, please say it’s not just the Moores. Any odd family phobias out there?

PS. We’re having fun here today. Those in a mood to take themselves too seriously will want to find a different blog for the next 24 hours. You are dearly loved but we’ll talk to you later in the week.

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I’ve been thinking about something since a week ago Saturday that I’m not sure I can articulate well. I’m going to give it a shot, though. Over the couple of years we’ve shared this community, I’ve seen enough of you refer to teaching Bible studies or speaking at retreats or to various groups that it may, should God care to use it, answer a few questions. Or, then again, it could more likely save you the energy of asking them. Some things are just a mystery.

Like callings.

And grace.

And how much of an accomplished work has anything to do with human vessels or are we of no consequence whatsoever. The question is not, could God use anybody? We know that’s a yes. It’s not even, does God prefer weakness so He can show Himself strong? That’s also a clear yes. What’s less clear is how much that “weak-anybody” has one iota’s bearing on what God does with him from then on. And, what are the differences between the times we are called upon by God to labor intensely toward a victory with every last ounce of energy we have (Colossians 1:29) and times when we just stand there and watch God do the thing like we weren’t even there. Or maybe we see nothing happen at all and go home in near despair, only for somebody to drop a note to us and say, “God spoke the word to me that day that I’ve waited all my life to hear.” Sometimes they quote what they heard and you know good and well it wasn’t you who said it. God talked around you instead of through you.

So, what part is God and what part is man? Twenty-five years in, I have no idea. And, I’m just weird enough to be strangely exhilarated by the fresh pulsation that I don’t. Yes, of course, we’re told to walk worthy of our callings (Ephesians 4:1) but could we walk worthy enough to enjoy a consistent, full-throttle Presence and anointing?

I doubt it.

If these are simple questions with simple answers, you may not have been around this bend often enough yet. Ask some folks who’ve spent decades at podiums like Kay Arthur, Anne Graham Lotz, Louie Giglio, James McDonald, and a host of others the devil hasn’t yet harassed into quitting and they might agree that some things get more mysterious with time. Not less.

There are too many things that don’t make sense. For communicators who give one whit about being honest-to-God (I mean that literally) Spirit-led, filled, and anointed servants, there’s no finding a formula. There’s no learning how to hit and not miss. There is no exact list and order of Spiritual disciplines to practice. Fasting every Monday, for instance, may seem to be the key attraction of God’s favor for a while but it soon wears off and you consider whether or not to add Tuesday. Nothing “works” every time. Don’t get me wrong. I believe in fasting. I’m just saying that, if you think you can use it to induce God’s unwavering favor, you’re probably going to get pretty hungry. There is no secret PIN number for His ATM. It’s God’s safeguard for keeping us from being more committed to our disciplines than to Him.

Here are a few other things I’ve learned about gifted speaking. There is no physical condition or best mood to be in. There is no amount of self-abhorrence, self-flagellation, competence or confidence to make you best suited for a mighty work of God. There is no perfect place, format, or group where “it” happens without fail. There is no type of message that never falls flat.  Or, there hasn’t been for me. There’s simply no outsmarting it. Absolutely no mastering it.

We’re splitting hairs here so stay with me until your mind gets good and muddled and only then will you get what I’m trying to say. To be sure, there are some basic ways we can cooperate with God for consistency and fruitfulness. Thank You, Lord. There are ways we can intentionally live our lives to His great glory and serve and love in His beautiful name. Bless You, Father. If not, in our earthbound wanderings, how ironically lost would we, the saved, be? But, as those who have the gall or call, responsibility or culpability to stand before a group of listeners, is there any way to insure that God will bless a message with a significant work of His Spirit?

I’m not talking here about manipulating God or trying to make Him behave. I’m not talking about trying to get Him to make you look good. I’m talking about the sheer attempt to prepare well enough, pray thoroughly enough, be humble enough (and not be proud of it) or do it all right enough in His eyes for Him to always perceptibly bless it. Honestly, there are just times when we disagree with God about what is best for Him.

What I’m talking about here is almost indefinable. I’d more easily be able to tell you how it feels than tell you what it is and yet sometimes it’s there and there’s no feeling it at all. Muddled yet? The closest I can come to naming it is God’s anointing and, if that’s the long and short of it, no wonder we can’t tame it or formulize it. The very nature of divine favor is that it is unmerited. And the very nature of God being God is that He is sovereign. As the Psalmist says, Our God is in the heavens and He does what He has pleased.

For the life of me I can’t figure out the common denominator tying together the times God really shows up. Two things are for certain. Sometimes He shows up without us even knowing it. Other times we’ll be positive He’s coming and later think He must have googled the wrong address.

This speaking thing is baffling. Beyond mastery.  It’s not for the fainthearted or the full-of-themselves. Unless a person is certifiably clueless or narcissistic beyond all hope of recovery, he or she will soon discover that what ego it builds, it also tears down. What wins out at the end of any given year is a total toss-up. In human reckoning, you could be brilliant one moment and a drooling fool the next. You can give the same message three times and the Holy Spirit hit like a lightning bolt, give it a fourth time with the same passion and authenticity and have it fall, to quote my grandmother, flatter than a flitter. I’ve never known what a flitter is but I am more than sure I’ve been flatter.

Think twice before you beg to be up front. This is the kind of thing you only want to do if you can’t keep from it. If God ever throws you up there, best to just keep your ego out of it. You can either be crucified to self or let God give you a good killing right in front of everybody. You better learn quickly and repeatedly that it’s not about you and that self-loathing is as self-absorbed as inordinate self-love. And, whatever you do, don’t get into the rut of letting your personal devotional time with God get supplanted by preparations to speak or teach. The enemy will put few subtler temptations in front of you. Every decent Bible student knows we reap what we sow but the tricky part is the sizable time gap that can occur between that sowing and reaping. When it stretches over a considerable amount of time, we think we’re getting away with it. Maybe God’s even blessing it. In His strange way, you may not see the fall-out of the loss of lively, daily relationship with Him for months but make no mistake. It’s coming. It’s a slow bleed and often you’re not aware that the lifeblood has left you until you are stone-cold dead. Thank goodness God has a penchant for resurrections. You better guard your intimacy with Him like your dying breath.

God’s love for us and our value before Him are insurmountable and unwavering. Our daughter-ship or son-ship is unconditional. His worthiness is unquestionable. Let me say that again. His worthiness is unquestionable. These are the things that must occupy us. These are the underpinnings of our security as His laborers in this harvest of souls. Things like our fitness or spiritual performance or numbers don’t just ebb and flow. They shake like a bottle of oil and vinegar duct taped to a jackhammer.

I’ve thought about this off and on for twenty years and two hundred reasons but I’ll tell you what brought it all up on this blog.

Remember last weekend’s simulcast? Those of you who participated may remember me saying that I’d had such big plans for it. As well as I know how to decipher it, not selfish or temporal plans. I honestly believed that so many women giving up their Saturdays were worthy of much deliberation, study, and preparation. And it goes without saying that God was worthy of those things and more. I felt like He must have been up to something strange and remarkably eternal to have put together numbers of women none of us could have anticipated. My plan was to give a profuse amount of time to preparation and illustration so that I could actually be familiar enough with my material not to do my usual thing. My normal approach is something like – let me think of a delicate word for it – regurgitation.  I seldom hit a platform unprepared but no one is going to accuse me of being impressively organized. For the most part, a thousand bites of information are swirling around like butterflies in my stomach and I just get up there and throw it all up.

The simulcast was to be the exception. I got home late the Saturday night before from a Living Proof Live in Florida and headed to church only to get a text from my firstborn, Amanda, telling me that her husband, Curtis, wasn’t feeling well and suspected something could really be wrong. In no time at all, he was in surgery with what his surgeon called an appendix that had gone off like a grenade. After sitting with Amanda at the hospital through the surgery, I moved into her house with my two beloved grandchildren and she moved into the hospital with her beloved man. That’s the way we spent the better part of four days.

Just like yours, our family comes first so I can honestly tell you that I had no second thoughts and, needless to say, not the least resentment. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything nor would I want to miss the next round. I have no intention of forfeiting my grandparent rights and responsibilities. I love Jackson and Annabeth like I love my own two daughters. Every minute I spent with them was my honor and joy and, yes, delightfully hard work. Every now and then I’d look up at the heavens and say something like, “Lord, I sure hope you’re preparing for Saturday while I’m keeping babies!”

And He was. He’s always faithful.

By late Wednesday night, Amanda took back the reins and her in-laws arrived first thing Thursday. At that point, my thoughts shifted totally to the simulcast. By Saturday morning, the Lord had graciously helped me prepare the two lessons. I was fine with them. Not fabulous with them but at peace. They were meaningful to me and appropriate for the occasion, I think, but, alas, not what I had planned. (Please don’t think I’m fishing for encouragement here. It would deflect severely from the point.)

This is where you come into the story. A few hours after the simulcast concluded Amanda called me and told me that comments were already coming in on the blog and that I ought to give them a glance. She thought I’d be blessed. I did and she was right, I was so thankful to God and was absolutely certain -100% – that anything of value was His doing. Then I came upon a comment I will never forget. It was posted at exactly 6:29. It said something like this: “I will always remember that we studied Ephesians 4:24 on 4/24.”  (April 24^th) Somebody may as well have hit me in the head with a sledge hammer. I went completely slack-jawed and stared at those words over and over. It had never – not once – dawned on me that God had given me Ephesians 4:24 (which was our primary verse and the whole theme of the simulcast) for 4/24. He’d given that verse to me several months earlier to memorize then I began to feel that it was His leadership toward our gathering. Still, I’d never put the reference with the date. I wasn’t that clever but God surely was. Here’s the verse. See it from the point of view of the person who has decided to put her insecurity behind her:

“put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

He’d had it all along. Planned it to a tee. Didn’t mean for it to be complicated.  Wasn’t interested in a flawless delivery.  Didn’t even need it to be great. Any jar of clay would do because anything happening on the visible platform was virtually incidental…as long as it didn’t quench the Spirit. All God had in mind to do was cut through the layers of technology until we could see straight into the beating heart of the Gospel: Jesus Christ can change your life.

That’s it. Plain and simple.

I love the mysterious side of God. I love that we can’t figure Him out. I love that He honors us by choosing us and humbles us by not even needing us. I love that He is wholly beyond formulas and manipulations, because goodness knows I’m not.

I love Him.

So, what do we do with all of this since we don’t know one iota more than we did? Just keep doing what we’re called to do. In season. Out of season. When we feel good. When we don’t. Believe Him to do something huge. Trust Him when you can’t even tell He did something small. Keep your heart in it and your big head out of it.

He’s the only one who can make it happen. As for us, we don’t even know what “it” is.

“The Lord our God has secrets known to no one. We are not accountable for them, but we and our children are accountable forever for all that he has revealed to us.” Deuteronomy 29:29 NLT

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Hi ladies! This week’s most frequently asked question has been whether we will make a DVD available of Beth’s teaching from the So Long Insecurity Simulcast. I finally have an answer for you!

There will be a DVD and the planned release date is July 1.

We have also been asked about The Promise of Security, which is a 40-page booklet of Scriptures that pairs nicely with SLI. It is sold out, but I’ve been told that the publisher, Tyndale, expects to have more of them in early May. They will be available in many bookstores and in our online store for $1.

In other news, I finished Francine Rivers’ Her Mother’s Hope this week and I’m already dying for the next one! Her Daughter’s Dream looks to be coming out in the fall. I just went to her web site to look for that release date and look what I came across! Ha!

This was taken at a book signing that Mom and Mrs. Rivers did together here in Houston.

And, because this post needs yet another topic in it, I want to thank you for praying for my family since Curtis had his surgery 12 days ago. He is doing much better and life is feeling a lot more normal. Sometimes Curtis and I get bored of “normal” but I can assure you we are more grateful for it now.

Have a great weekend, Siestas!

PS – There is a little present at the top of our sidebar for everyone who has asked me how to have the blog posts emailed to them over the last three years. Woo hoo!

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Three weekends ago, Mom, Melissa, Annabeth and I headed north to Dallas-Fort Worth. Our co-worker’s son was getting married and we were excited to make  a girls weekend out of it. I realize the relevance of this post has now dwindled, but it’s been sitting in the draft folder for a couple of weeks and I would hate to waste it.

As always, we had many “That’s going on the blog!” moments, some of which I will document for you.

The first was when we passed the giant statue of Sam Houston just outside of Huntsville on I-45. If you’ve heard Beth tell about the night she thought she saw our Lord on the highway, you will appreciate this. At night Sam is lit up against the pitch black background of pine trees.

Too many hours later (Mom was behind the wheel and she drives like a granny), we finally arrived in the Metroplex. We went through Irving and got one last look at Texas Stadium. It was already very stripped down in preparation for Sunday morning’s implosion.

After a much needed stop at Starbucks, we stayed the course of our long journey until we arrived at the perfect Moore Girls Weekend destination – a hotel at Southlake Town Square. Praise the Lord and amen.

In this spot, please imagine a picture of Melissa and me unloading our overpacked bags and toddler paraphernalia out of the car while Mom visited with two really cute ladies who seemed a little surprised to be seeing her.

Right here, please imagine a picture of my mom’s face when they told her that their church was hosting a women’s retreat at that very hotel and – you’ll never believe this – Mom was the retreat speaker! Yes, you read that right. They were using the Revelation DVD’s for their women’s retreat. Isn’t that ironic/hilarious/crazy?

We didn’t waste much time unpacking. There was eating and shopping to do before bedtime!

We had a great time exploring Southlake and just being together. We met lots of really neat ladies and even a few Siestas!

Our time flew by and before we knew it, it was time for the Mattingly/Simpson wedding. We all got dressed up. Mom wore the gold dress that she’s worn to almost every wedding in the last 8 years. I wore a “new again” black dress that hadn’t fit since Annabeth was born. I also wore a brand new pair of heels that quickly became my nemesis. Melissa took a fashion risk and wore something less conventional. Halfway through the night, she saw a picture of herself and suddenly there was no convincing her that she didn’t look exactly like the wedding cake in her voluminous, tiered white blouse. She said she feared people would begin approaching her with their cake plates. I believe this was Melissa’s first time to experience fashion remorse. Unfortunately, all pictures of it have been destroyed. (I thought she looked beautiful!) Annabeth wore a sweet little dress that had pink tulips on it. Unfortunately, a toddler really limits one’s participation in a wedding celebration. Annabeth and I just walked up and down the halls of the church during the ceremony. Our time at the reception ended up being short and sweet, seeing as how my daughter was two hours past her bedtime and nothing could make her happy. At least she was cute!

The Lord allowed us to have a couple of unexpected moments with Adam and Laura, the beautiful bride and handsome groom, on our way out.

There happened to have been some red and pink tulips nearby that matched Annabeth’s dress. What a great photographic opportunity, right? Annabeth did not agree.

The next hour held one mishap after another. I got us terribly lost, Melissa dropped a room service tray on the floor and broke some plates, and Mom and I accidentally ate  her dinner while she was cleaning it up. (We thought it was an appetizer for all of us.) Bless her heart.

Soon we called it a night. Early the next morning I woke up to a rumbling sound. I glanced at the clock and realized it must have been the stadium coming down. You can see a video of the implosion here. People cheer at the end but I thought it was pretty sad to watch! (I used to live by this stadium and even though it was u-g-l-y, I felt sorry for it.)

We dropped Melissa off at DFW airport so that she could fly home to Atlanta. Then Mom, Annabeth and I made our way toward the stadium so we could see the pile of rubble. It was so freaky! It looked like there had been an earthquake. I tried to imagine how horrifying Port Au Prince must be with most of the buildings looking like that. Awful.

A highlight on the way home was stopping for lunch at the Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana. One word – YUM! There was a big field of bluebonnets (our celebrated state flower) next to the parking lot, so we did what every self-respecting mother and grandmother in Texas would do. We plopped ourselves and our baby down in the middle of it and took some pictures!  Ideally, these would not have been taken with an iPhone and Annabeth would have been wearing a cute summer dress. We also had to hurry because we could tell the church crowd was about to arrive at the restaurant.

And this concludes the semi-annual Moore Girls Weekend recap.  Our DFW trip was a great success. Thank you, Adam and Laura Mattingly for getting married and giving us a great reason to get away. We love you guys!

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He was one of the “ones” at the SLI simulcast last weekend.

Siesta Lavonda says, “Melana sent Moose with Adrienne to the simulcast, and during the lunch break, we took this picture of him (with the cup holder that makes him feel more secure about his hair.)”

You can check out one of his previous adventures here.

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Colin and I just dropped Mom off at the Atlanta airport.

[Tear]

I was secretly hoping the strong rains in Atlanta would last just a day longer so I could hold on to Mom for just a few more hours. And a cleansing of the final layer of inch deep pollen paste that has coated my car and bronchial tubes would have been a nice little bonus as well.

Colin and I took Mom to the Flying Biscuit in Midtown this morning for breakfast. We really wanted to take her for “brunch” but her flight was leaving a bit too early for such a special event. Brunch is a big deal to the wonderful folk in Georgia and I have become quite fond of it myself. Admittedly, I had to get over my initial aversion to the word “brunch” because it appears to be a combination of the word “breakfast” and “lunch” which sorta-kinda-I-mean-really gets on my nerves. I swiftly got over my petty annoyance, however, the first time those creamy dreamy shrimp and grits touched my lips. Enough about “brunch” though. Except for one more thing, the word “brunch” is far better than “bruncheon” on the velveeta scale. My cordiality comes to a screeching halt with “bruncheon”.

Back to breakfast. In predictable Beth fashion, Mom ordered the Flying Biscuit Breakfast with the Orange scented French toast on the side. Please note that the Orange Scented French toast is actually not a side dish but a full meal. While we were waiting for Mom’s several dishes to come out we were talking about really urgent issues, like how complex and intricate the Flying Biscuit motif was on this little ceramic jar.

If I have not said this on the blog before, by far my favorite time to hang out with my Mom is right after some kind of big event like a videotaping, Passion, Deeper Still, or a Living Proof Live. In this case it was the Simulcast that was evidently extended to over 300,000 women. By the way, I told my Mom yesterday never to utter a number like that to me again without a serious warning and that if she even attempted to introduce me during the second session of the simulcast, I would take her to court for her wrongdoing. As you can guess, Mom did not listen and it turns out there really are restrictions on lawsuits. But seriously, Mom is super fun to be with right after a big conference. For starters, right after a big event she hasn’t slept in about a week and so after she steps off the stage she plunges into a very advanced case of delirium. If I thought she could handle the stress I would use this priceless state for my own advantage and literally take her from the church directly to a venue for her to do stand-up comedy. Also, since her stomach is usually pretty weak right before she speaks since she doesn’t have much of an appetite, usually the first thing she says to us after a session is, “I AM SO HUNGRY!” Then we sit down at the table and she says, “I’m going to order sixteen things.” For some reason, she always uses the same number, sixteen. I’m not sure why she has this affinity for the number sixteen but she does and it delights me to no end each new time she throws it out there, almost like it is the very first time she has ever come up with this golden number “sixteen”. You can ask Amanda. I am not making this up.

My heart is so full from such a wonderful weekend. After Colin and I left Mom’s hotel last night and had gone on home, Amanda and I called my Mom three-way from my cell-phone. It was like 1993 sans landline. We talked and giggled and carried on and on about little snippets and stories from women we had encountered throughout the day until it was past Mom’s bedtime. When we hung up the phone I realized I had a giant lump in my throat. The Lord’s ways are truly remarkable.  His intricate and elaborate pursuit of each of us just blows me away.  Yesterday as I sat listening to my Mom’s message in the second session I noticed a woman a few rows behind me who quietly streamed tears the entire hour and a half. As I watched her emotionally absorb words that were far too weighty for her to bear without a physical response, the gospel in its most unadulterated form was preached to my heart once again. That God, in the cross of Jesus Christ, has forgiven us and brought us into fellowship with Himself is the most compelling news our ears will ever hear and our minds will ever conceive. That He esteems us and deems us valuable is just beyond comprehension. I mean, we’re pretty bad.  Okay, we’re really bad, and even a tad bit unlovable a lot of the time.

Paul told the Corinthians in his second letter, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our heart to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (4.6). God’s work in us through Jesus Christ is nothing short of a new creation. The same creator who sculpted the sun shined his very own light into our hearts by means of the knowledge of Christ’s gospel. This is not the kind of news one just sits and coldly anticipates with a forced half-smile but one that should be absorbed in a manner that cannot be controlled, contained, or folded up neatly like linens in a closet. I thank my dear sister who was sitting several rows behind me, wherever she is now, for reminding me how vast, enrapturing, and beautiful the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ really is. It is a profound experience to ponder the gospel anew in the face of someone who has just internalized God’s indescribable gift. The gospel is not safe and predictable, although we have most often rendered it such. It should turn every aspect of our lives completely upside down. Jesus has thrown everything utterly off balance. Perhaps more often than not the Gospel should completely undo us to the point that we cannot act altogether civilized. It sounds a little bit unsettling or even grotesque for those of us who are especially self aware but the bright side is that the community of God has been a peculiar people from the beginning, so we really don’t have all that much to lose.

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