Blog post by Ashley Bowie, a child at heart, and a weirdy to the core.

I’m a believer. I am inclined toward belief. As a kid I would get lost in stories that featured characters whose lives seemed to carry this inexplicable sense of purpose. They would start their days in a drifting prose, unexpected things would happen to them and they would gasp, the world would slow down and they would have a moment. They would have this really life altering moment. I believe in those moments. It irked me as a kid that I would wake up to the stubbornly ordinary of my life, I would walk through the world with my hands facing out, no joke, not lifted up or raised but facing out, ready for my moment. I would build stories for people I had never met, dream up impossibly heroic scenarios for myself and I would wait. Wait to be told that my necklace that I bought at a flea market was actually magical, or that the boy I liked recognized a pattern in my freckles that meant I was a descendant of a goddess.

I was a weird kid, I don’t mind if you think that. But you have to admit there is a trace of that same kind of weird in all of us. We all want to think that there is more to the world than what we face every day, than slugging through our own routines and emotions, putting up with the world's imperfections like there is no solution, wishing for superheroes, and magic items that tell us how to fix the problems, how to rise out of ordinary and show the world something astounding for a change.

Christmas feels like magic. Maybe less so now than when I was young, but I still thrill at our tendency to light up the dark with our symbols of peace and hope and joy, raging against the cold indifference of winter running its course, and pressing light and joy into the empty night. I still delight in bringing the wild into my home, in thinking sincerely about all the people I love and how I can show them what they mean to me. I’d like to believe that the right combination of Christmas cookies and well spoken words of love will shift the balance of the world out of chaos and hate, and have us all leaning into love and peace.

Above all I believe in words. When God created the world, He spoke it into existence. Jesus made sick people well with His words, nations have been rallied to war, comfort is delivered, freedom is declared, love is proclaimed, all by the delicate process of air through lips, words on a page.

A prophecy was delivered, shouted through centuries, clung to in sleepless nights, hoped for, fought for and then whispered as a baby was born among the least of these, raised in adversity, rallied against injustice and delivered peace to the world if we would have it.

Behold, the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. - Isaiah 9:2

I love this verse. I can hear the shattered pieces, like a whisper right against my heart, like a memory and a reminder.

The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned. - Matthew 4:16

Jesus came into this world, to find the lost, to save them, to rescue them from destruction. When we think of this, our minds go to the cross. We think of the sacrifice of Jesus. He shed His blood, He paid our price. He ransomed us from the clutches of death and brought us in to be adopted as His brothers and sisters. He did, I will not contradict that. But the very first thing he did, His first act as human was to shine a light upon those walking in darkness.

We stumble about, we hurt each other out of ignorance and sometimes out of fear or hate but mostly the fear and hate is because of something we don’t understand, something we cannot see. But behold, a people walking in darkness have seen a great light. For 33 years before He died, Jesus shone his light on the world, He illuminated the dark places for us. He taught us how to love, how to face down hatred and run the race despite the fear.

I was walking once, through the fresh snow, with those massive flakes falling gently around me, insulating me from the noise of the world. Everything felt so calm and peaceful and I just stopped. I wasn’t thinking anything in particular, I wasn’t on some important mission or feeling very full of purpose. But I stopped there on the sidewalk and looked around me at the world blanketed in glittering white and I had one of those moments. I felt the whole world slow down and I opened my palms and thought; “I will walk in the light, I will welcome the relief from the darkness, I will hold out my hands to those who crave the light.”

In the dead of winter, on the longest and coldest nights we put lights on our houses, we remember the baby king, we celebrate His life. We celebrate light. May we not clutter the season with obligations and desperate attempts at magic moments. May we see the glorious light, may we reach out to those walking in darkness, as Christ our light and our life has shown us, has shone upon us, has not only died, but lived for us.

This week’s blog is by Becca Wellan.

It’s a Saturday afternoon. I hear the rain pouring down on the roof and the deep, whirring sound of the vacuum. My mom is downstairs, getting our dear home ready to decorate with shimmering lights and that horrible singing Santa (oh you better watch out).

I’m curled up by the fire in my favorite, cozy chair. The room is dark, except for the lamp my dad brought over for me. A Charlie Brown Christmas (my favorite) is playing softly, and I (tragically) finished off my coffee two hours ago but I’m too cozy (read: lazy) to make the treacherous journey downstairs to the Keurig.

So here I sit, reading and writing and soaking in the sounds of the holidays as the day slips by. Without my coffee.

The season of Advent is here. I never celebrated Advent before and really, all I know about it is that it’s a time of preparing your heart for the coming of Jesus, and eating chocolate.

I love Jesus. I love chocolate. But I never gave much thought to Advent.

In days of Christmas past, the 25th would come in a whirlwind of wrapping paper and I’d find myself trying to find the “reason for the season” as I lay on the couch in a food coma after eating WAY too many of my (somewhat doughy but thoroughly addictive) cinnamon rolls.

Thank you Jesus for being born, I’d pray. And thank you for presents. And cinnamon rolls. Bless the hands that made them (mine). Amen.

And that’d be that. But not this year.

This year, my heart is desperate for hope amidst hurt and aching and trying to figure it all out and starting over, and over and over again. My heart is longing to be filled with the hope that is already ours, because God wrapped Himself in human skin and bones. Because a baby named Jesus was born.

Advent means coming. And not as in “Santa Claus is coming.” Just like Lent is a time to prepare your soul for celebrating a risen King, Advent is a time to prepare your soul for celebrating the coming of Jesus. Like God’s people hoped for a Savior before Jesus was born, we posture our hearts to anticipate His coming too.

But it’s tricky to anticipate the birth of Jesus because we already know the story (thanks, Linus). We know that “unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). We know He went to a cross, died and rose again to absorb the punishment of hell and separation from God that we had coming. We know He did it all, with us on His heart.

We know a lot of things, but what we know doesn’t always invade our daily reality.
The oh-NO-I-lost-my-keys-again reality.
The my-heart-is-broken reality.
The I-burnt-the-toast-again reality.
The I-feel-like-a-failure-at-my-job reality.
The I-am-stressed-out-of-my-mind reality.

In the midst of our mundane, bitter, difficult but sometimes pretty great reality, we are in danger of overlooking the stunning miracle that is the birth of Christ. Not just in a whirlwind of holiday fluster, but throughout the entire year. We miss out on this heart-changing reality: a baby in a manger gives us hope for the days when you feel overwhelmed and hopeless. Ya’ll been there? I have. Or, hope for the days when the dull pain of heartache in your chest just won’t go away, no matter how many deep breaths you take. Or how many cinnamon rolls you eat.

When you think of “hope,” what comes to mind? For me, the word “hope” conjures up images of a walk-in-closet filled with flannel. And a box of donuts. And bacon. Lot’s of bacon.

But we all need a greater hope than mere wishful thinking. Biblical hope is not a cross-your-fingers type of hope (like, I hope I’ll learn how to not burn toast). These are things we tell ourselves to make us feel better. The sad truth is, we bank our current happiness on these little hopes. We wish for what we can never truly rest in.

God’s hope never operates like our little hopes.

No, the hope of God is a hope that is secure. God is faithful, He never changes. When He promised to send a Savior, He did. The same God that fulfilled His promise then is the same God that will fulfill His promises to us, today.

Because of His unchanging character, we can look into the future and expect, with absolute confidence and trust, that God will do exactly what He says He will do. He will care for us exactly how He says He will.

Please celebrate this with me! God is not like us, His love never changes.

God promises to change us, so throughout our lives we will become more like Him (2 Corinthians 3:18). When you’re struggling with sin, you can have hope that God will transform you. He promises that He will work ALL things for the good of those who love Him, so in the midst of suffering you can have hope that it will be for your benefit and God will use it in your life (Romans 8:28). When God promised to go to prepare a place for us in heaven, we have hope that one day we will be home (John 14:2).

This is my comfort today, this very moment. God was faithful 2,000 years ago when He came as a baby, then grew into a man who was a dear friend of sinners, then died on a cross to save them. To save us. To save me, even though I mess up big time and also burn toast.

So I can say, with full confidence, that He will be faithful to me now, and everyday for the rest of my life. He will be my Savior, my greatest love, my comforter, and my constant source of peace.

May this be your hope too, fam. Merry Christmas!

This week's post by Theresa Adams

Recently some women of Redeemer spent the weekend thinking about the weight of our words. About taming the tongue. About the heart behind our words. And about seeking God's wisdom over our own. Through the teaching, listening, praying, sharing, crying, laughing, and eating  we were able to walk away from that weekend having learned that we all struggle with taming our tongue. We all wrestle with knowing if our words lift-up or tear-down. Fill up or empty. Bless or curse. We all get to choose whether we speak or remain silent. Should you be of the opinion that it must be something only women struggle with, or only parents, or only teenagers here is what RT Kendall has to say about it, "Nobody can tame the tongue. Not a single person under heaven. Old or Young. Rich or poor. No matter one's color, race, or nationality. Tongue control cannot be attained by any gift we have, by any education we receive, or by the highest level of intellect." Encouraged, yet?

In the Bible, the Book of James, Chapter 3 we read such stunning imagery detailing the sheer power of the tongue and the lack we have over it. "How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire." We are all familiar with how the sky here, in the Pacific Northwest, darkens most summers, caused by the roaring forest fires in Eastern Washington and Canada. How even the sun can be marked by a hazy glow. Those fires cause acres and acres of destruction and devastation and they are often caused by a careless match or cigarette. Much like the fires our tongues can cause. All of us, most likely, have our own examples of times our words caused devastation. Or perhaps words said to you were what caused things to set ablaze.

For myself, I think back to when my boys were younger and the way I spoke to them. The words I would use with them would constantly set things ablaze and often times those words were said, as my kids would point out, with my “outside voice.” I would get so rattled. So frustrated. So negative that my words would come out sharp as a weapon. I would be remorseful, of course. Yet it would continue to happen. Again and again. So, I would try to "do better." I would try to will the words away. I would yell into pillows. I even went as far as putting my head in the freezer (on the internet's suggestion because everything on the internet is helpful. And true.) And, still,  I couldn't believe how I would talk to my kiddos. These two kids that I had longed for so desperately. That I had prayed and cried for. We were told we would never even be able to have children and yet here we were with two and the way I spoke to them was despicable.

Weary of the load I was carrying I began to pray incessantly about my words. It was obvious nothing else was working and I was so tired of relying on my own strength and abilities. Over time Christ revealed to me that I was speaking to my kids out of a heart of anger and a lack of control. I had no idea how to cope with the fact that as they were getting older the amount of control I had over them was lessening. They were beginning to think for themselves. To reason. To have opinions. So I spoke when I should have listened. I used a harsh tone when I should have soothed. I criticized when I should have encouraged. When I would do so I would immediately wish I could grasp the words out of the air and swallow them back up. Because once they were out I could see my boys faces crumple. I could hear their cries and see their tears fall.

My words were coming out tainted and ugly because they were reflecting what was going on in my heart. Yes, I needed to clean up how I spoke to my children, absolutely, but more importantly I had some heart work to do. I began, slowly, to realize that my children were people too. That they had their own ideas, minds, and worth. Which was exactly how God made them and intended them to be. As a parent it was challenging for me to realize that the short people who lived in my home deserved the same respect as anyone else. James says in verse 9, "with it (our tongue) we curse people who are made in the likeness of God." Which is exactly what I was doing with my boys.

I think that's what we need to grasp...that no matter if we are a parent, student, professional, man, woman or child  when we gossip about someone or judge them we are judging the very likeness they were made in. When we tear someone down we are tearing down the very God who spoke them into existence. No matter how they vote, where they worship, how much they make or how they treat you. With everyone we speak to, email, or text we have the privilege of building them up and the responsibility to not tear them down.

I don't think James wrote this letter to the church because he wanted them to "do more" in order to gain God's love or favor. Nor is he telling us to be performance driven.  The God we love is good. If we malign Him by maligning someone else He still loves us just the same. If we have a great day where we build everyone up we come into contact with, He still loves us just the same. Paul Miller says, " Come dirty. Jesus said that He came for sinners, for messed up people who keep messing up."

For me, who sometimes still uses her "outside voice" it is good news to be shook out of my amnesia and remember that as messy as I am I can always begin again. Moment-by-moment. Day-by-day. No matter whether I hit reply to soon, send way too many texts, or simply don't think before I speak I know that because of Jesus, who has given me a new heart, I can get back up when I fall.

"'Cause Jesus paid it all

All to him I owe

My sin had left this crimson stain, he washed it white as snow"

Blog Post by Ashley Bowie - Loved by God even though she is sometimes annoying.

Is anyone else a little irritated that the bible does not give instruction on how to deal with people who annoy you? We have words from the mouth of Jesus on how to treat enemies, how to treat the people who oppress us, or are wicked leaders, or unrepentant sinners, kings and queens, orphans and widows, but nothing on being annoyed. This is unfortunate because people are very annoying. Some of them talk too much and sometimes you have to carry the whole conversation. Some people try to cross the street where there is no crosswalk, some people chew with their mouths open, some people don’t speak in complete sentences, some people say “irregardless” like it’s a word, some people always interrupt you, and you guys, some people don’t like ice cream.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you said something really ridiculous or out of place and you felt like the fool of the moment? You can recall that moment with exact perfection 10 years later and still feel hints of shame? We all have stories like this. And we have bigger worse ones where you know you sinned against someone or hurt someone and you can’t seem to shake the guilt. Sure this is a tool of our enemy, to keep us trapped in past hurts and make us ineffective for the present. But the Lord is kind, He can and does turn those moments into a remembrance of how far He has brought you and how He has turned your heart against sin.

I’ve done my fair share of sinning in my life. Generally, I am an open book with my friends, I don’t mind talking about the things I’ve learned and the grace God has shown my life. There is one, however, that I cannot stand to talk about if I can avoid it, and I usually can. It produces the strongest aftershock of shame in my heart and frequently I find myself praying, begging God, that I never fall subject to that particular sin again. I’m going to tell you what it is.

Superiority.

There have been moments in my life where I intentionally did not talk to someone because I thought I was better than them, or I didn’t want people to think I was friends with that type of person. I have grown annoyed at people's faults or insecurities and have counted myself better. I’ve seen bad decisions in action and been glad that “at least I’m not stupid.” I have looked down on people as though their sin is any worse than mine, I have avoided people because their quirks rubbed me the wrong way. It makes me feel wretched because I have intimate knowledge of the darkness in my heart, and I have intimate knowledge of God's beautiful light.

Philippians 2:3-8 “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests, but each of you to the interests of the others. In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death- even death on a cross!”

Have you ever had a chance to see so many stars in the sky on a perfectly clear night that you could trace the thick band of the Milky Way over your head? It’s a stunner. You have to stand there and just breathe between your exclamations and sighs because what can you really say to adequately capture that kind of beauty? When I look at another person, that night sky is what I imagine. Inside their mind are the infinite possibilities of what they will say or do, what made them who they are, what their goals are, and what they might possibly be capable of. I can see your eye color, the length of your hair, I can be familiar with the shape of your face and the sound of your voice. I can know a few things about you, we can share some memories, but the reach and depth of who you are extends beyond the possibility of total comprehension. At the very least, this kind of craftsmanship by God the Creator, must be respected. And in its design, this delicate and vital work by the hand of God is essential to our growth as a people.

It's easy to chalk our annoyances up to sin. It’s easy to say “what it really is, is that she is selfish.” Or “I just don’t know how to interact with people who are so close minded.” Or “They dislike/hate me, why should I make an effort with them?” Popular advice supports most of this; protect yourself, don’t give to people who won’t give back, don’t engage with people you know you can’t win over. And this can seem like wisdom. Except…

Christ Jesus was God, and He humbled Himself to become a man, He valued the lowly, He reached toward sinners, He held out hands to the difficult personalities and made them an intimate part of His life. He washed feet and He healed the wounds inflicted by those who were too immature to sort out when was a good time for a fight.

There is no, absolutely no discrimination when it comes to who is more deserving of our time. I’ll tell you how you know when to give yourself and when to stop. This two-part rule; are they human? Are they in your vicinity? I’m not saying, seek out people who annoy you. No one has to do that, they exist in our world and if you need an ego pop; you are someone else’s annoying person. Just embrace it, there’s probably nothing you can do about that. But there are people everywhere who need to be loved as they are, welcomed in with sins and quirks and little habits that have you squirming.

Christ who is God, became lower than that, He became a man in order to welcome all to Himself. If the goal is to become more Christ like, then we must welcome all. We must humble ourselves and be sacrificial with our time, our ego, our pride. Can you talk with someone who is openly racist? Jesus did. Can you be seen talking with people that all of society has ostracized? Jesus did. Can you spend time with people that you feel like should be spiritually mature by now but aren’t? Jesus did, and He still does. I am so glad that He does. Where would I be without His loving embrace?

This week, we're meeting another deacon, Brandon.

Redeemer: How long have you been part of Redeemer, and how long have you been serving as a deacon?

Brandon: I started coming to Redeemer in I think July of 2010, so that’s a little more than six years. I became a member in 20… 13(?) and a deacon in 2014.

R: What was your understanding of the office before you starting serving in the capacity you are? Has that changed over time? If so, how?

B: Deacons serve the church by meeting practical needs. That can happen in a number of ways depending on the needs of the local church body in which the deacons serve. I think when I started, I kinda felt like there was a “right” way to do this, or that at least there should be. I’ve since learned there’s a lot of freedom and space here, so while being “right” is important, there’s a bunch of ways to get there.

R: What do you like about being a deacon? Is there anything you find particularly rewarding or challenging?

B: I really like helping people find their “thing” and encouraging people to apply their passions and skills to help build up the body. It’s really rewarding to see people serve and actually like it.

I hate scheduling, and I am terrible at it (everyone who knows me right now is either laughing or nodding along). I don’t have to do it very often, but when I do, I put it off as long as I can.  So that’s challenging. Yeah. I hate scheduling, and I’m really grateful for people who like and do it well.

R: What’s the most common question you are asked about being a deacon, and how do you respond?

B: There’s sort of two. One of them is ”So what does that mean?”, and I usually say something like “I help care for the practical needs of Redeemer. Kinda whatever comes up”.

And the second one, which often comes up in the same conversation, is “What’s the difference, then, between being a deacon and just serving faithfully?”

As deacons and deaconesses at Redeemer, our intention is to get the thing done and build up the church, so there is a fair amount of overlap. But, perhaps uniquely, we want to create an environment where as many people can help as possible, so we always (or, we should) have our heads up, looking to get others involved. Sometimes, that’s just taking the person that says “I want to help; tell me what to do” and invite them into any old thing. And others, we ask people to help, figure out what they like doing, and put them in a spot where they can apply their passions and skills, where they hopefully have fun doing it.

So there’s definitely times where we’ve got our heads down late at night, grinding away on some awful project that just has to get done. But, whenever possible, we’re trying to involve others. It makes the garbage more fun to deal with, anyway.

This week’s post is by Becca Wellan. Becca is a member and volunteer at Redeemer, and no, she’s not waiting until the day after Thanksgiving to post this.

Last Sunday after church, my roommates and I turned up our favorite Christmas tunes and put on our Christmas sweaters. We bought Christmas decor and decorated a mini tree. Christmas cookies baked in the oven as we strung up Christmas lights.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. We know. It was the day before Halloween, actually. And we could not have been more stoked.

As I danced around the house, singing Christmas songs (horrible-karaoke-style), it hit me: I haven’t felt this joyful and free in a long, long time.

Later, as I sat criss-cross on the floor, wrapping our paintings in Santa Claus wrapping paper, my mind suddenly flooded with memories of a past holiday season. My heart began to ache as memories played like a movie in my mind. The pain of deep wounds stole my breath, nearly knocking me over.

It’s strange what Santa Claus wrapping paper can do to a person.

 

To hurt is to be human.

Most of us have experienced deep hurt. Not to be a Scrooge, but if you haven’t been devastated by hurt yet, you will be. Sadly, it’s normal for the brokenness of this world to affect us deeply.

Perhaps you’ve been wounded by someone you love. Maybe you’re struggling in your marriage, family, or friendships, or you feel devastatingly alone. Or, your mental/emotional/physical health seems impossible to work through. Maybe you’re sharing in the suffering of someone dear to you and it’s wearing on your spirit.

Life just hurts, sometimes. The hurt in our hearts and in the world is an opportunity to run into the arms of Jesus, to ask Him to be the healer, comforter and joy-giver He says He is. Yet so often we look for a quick fix, to take our mind off the pain.

Where do you run when you are starving for comfort and joy? Perhaps you run to someone who can affirm you, who can help steady you. But what if that person isn’t available, or walks out on your life?

Perhaps you self-medicate with alcohol, drugs or sex. But they will leave you empty tomorrow.

Perhaps you bury yourself in your work, your hobbies or school to take the edge off your pain. But busyness is only temporary distraction. When your head hits the pillow at night, has anything changed?

Seek comfort in these things, and you may feel better faster. But you’re putting a bandaid over a broken leg, it just won’t work. We need true comfort and joy to heal our hurts, from the inside out.

 

Tidings of comfort and joy.

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour. // Luke 2:10-11.

When life hurts, you become more aware of your need for a Savior. Whether you find it in a person, a substance, or a distraction, we all know we need to be rescued when the battle becomes too much.

The best news is that a Savior was born. To reconcile billions of reckless, bitter, calloused souls into deep friendship with Him. To forgive every last sinful thought.

The greatest joy is knowing that despite our circumstances, we have a Savior who took the punishment that should’ve been ours, to give us forgiveness we could never earn. We are safe, we don’t have to heal according to a timeline. Our greatest need for healing was met the moment Christ said “it is finished”; the moment we were forgiven.

What if the hurt you face serves a greater purpose?
Ever had one of those I-Just-Can’t moments? One of mine involved curling up on the couch one early autumn morning as the fog rolled in. I felt burnt out, angry at the daily struggle to overcome past hurt and shame. As tears stained my cheeks with mascara, I cried out to God:

Papa, please, I prayed, could you bring me a season of joy? You’ve brought me through a season of deep hurt and I could really use some joy right now.

I don’t like being hurt. I never have, I never will. I think it’s safe to say that’s universal. But what if God is using it to transform you to be more like Him?

In Romans 5:3-5, Paul encourages us to have joy in our sufferings; God is at work in the hurt. He is just as much our Savior when we’re suffering as He was our Savior on the cross. Paul says that suffering brings endurance, character, and hope. He will sharpen you, and He will change you.

Decking the halls the day before Halloween, with my sweet, hilarious roommates who relentlessly point me to Christ, reminded me that though it still hurts, God already answered my prayer for joy. I remembered the girl I was a year ago, and smiled because I see how God has been transforming my heart through the tears.

How to find joy and comfort.

When we catch even a glimpse of who God is, we can’t help but be transformed. When I remind myself of His character, that “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3), that He is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Psalm 145:8), I find comfort and rest.

This may sound obvious, but we learn who God is through reading the bible. We should never, ever get over the miracles that happen when it’s truths inform and challenge our minds. Psalm 119:50 says, “this is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life.” This verse isn’t referring to one promise. It’s saying that the entire bible makes Him alive, which is His comfort in suffering. God’s word is filled with truths about Him that are designed to bring you comfort as you learn about the character of God.

If you’re like me, you conform God to fit your culture. Bad idea. God is not PNW-passive. He is not sitting in heaven, hoping you’ll figure it out. He wants to enter into your life. Pray and ask God to act, to be who He says He is in your life. Ask God to show you that He truly does heal the brokenhearted, that He truly is a comforter. You are not asking Him to be something He’s not, and He’s more than willing to pour out His love into your life.

In the laughter, through the tears, God spoke to me last Sunday. Though hurt still lingers, He comforted me with the hope that He has, and is, and will be at work in my struggle, to heal from the inside out. He reminded me, as I decked the halls with laughter and gold glitter, as I nearly fell apart, that Jesus had come with tidings of comfort and joy.