The Gospel

The law damns us.

The gospel sets us free.

The law controls us.

The gospel releases us.

The law judges us.

The gospel pours out grace.

The law keeps order.

The gospel brings radical upheaval.

 

I’ve spent most of my life living under the law,

Feeling judged, damned, and never enough

Because I can never rid myself of the sin that lives within me.

 

But that’s just the point.

There is NOTHING I can do to overcome my brokenness,

So Jesus did it for me.

 

Jesus lived a life that ushered in abundant life on earth with the promise of eternal life beyond.

Jesus died a death that paid the price for sin.

Jesus was resurrected into a life that defeated evil and death.

Jesus transformed the cross from a symbol of shame to a symbol of hope.

Jesus is gospel.

Jesus is hope.

Jesus is grace.

Jesus is love…

And love sets us free.

 

For the past five years, I’ve been learning about this Jesus anew.

It’s not a Jesus bound by the law,

It’s not a Jesus bound by failed human attempts of righteousness,

Rather it’s a Jesus who healed people from all walks of life to demonstrate that the Kin-dom welcomes all,

It’s a Jesus who chose messed-up, fallible creatures to carry his message of redemption,

And it’s a Jesus who really does love us and has called us to be part of his body,

Which is a really beautiful thing.

 

If you have been damned by the law.

If you have been controlled, judged, and kept in line by the rules and regulations of denominational and religious polity.

Then remember the gospel.

Remember freedom, release, grace, and love.

Remember that Jesus brings radical redemption to ALL who will believe—

Oh God, help our unbelief!

 

Amen.

 

A Tale of Two Cat Rescues

 

My Facebook feed is full of animal rescue videos.

I’m a sucker for a good rescue story,

Although I admit that some of them make me sad.

I don’t understand what part of someone thinks that throwing animals in dumpsters is at all okay.

But that’s not my point.

My point is that I watch a lot of animal rescue videos 😊.

 

Recently, I saw two different cat rescues,

Both from trees.

 

In one of the videos,

The cat gets so scared of the rescuer

That he decides he would rather just jump out of the tree!

I think it was a 20-foot drop,

Limbs flailing in the air,

But the cat was okay!

 

In the other video,

The cat was 50-feet high,

Literally shaking from exhaustion,

And completely relieved when his rescuer showed up.

He immediately climbed into the rescuer’s arms,

Began purring,

And happily let the rescuer put him into a mesh sack so that he could safely make the descent.

 

Two cats stuck in similar situations;

Two very different reactions to someone coming to help.

 

It makes me wonder:

Am I the first cat who was afraid to, or simply didn’t, accept help when it was offered?

Or am I the second cat who embraced help when it came?

Both cats were okay in the end,

But it seems to me that the second cat had a slightly safer journey than the first,

Who went on a great adventure!

 

I’m pretty sure that Annie the Cat would jump if someone came to rescue her from a tree.

She’s not a stranger-truster.

It would be ugly.

I would cry and scream and deem her dead.

Because I am her opposite.

Vulnerable. Trusting. Always putting safety first.

 

What about you?

Do you accept help? Or do you remain independent?

Do fall into safe arms? Or do you try to do things yourself?

 

Oh God: Help us to know who we are and then to be willing to try something different if needed. Help us to know when to accept help and when to go at it alone. Help us to know when to leap and when to fall into open arms. And help us, God, not to let fear lead to make bad decisions. Amen.

It's Quiet Uptown

Despite rave reviews from friends and critics alike, I did not listen to the soundtrack from Hamilton until this year. Since listening to it, though, a day hasn’t passed that I haven’t listened to one of its most powerful songs, “It’s Quiet Uptown.” Truth be known, “It’s Quiet Uptown” is one of the most powerful songs I’ve ever heard.

I won’t attempt to explain the storyline of Hamilton or the events that lead up to the song’s presence, but I will say this: a really bad decision has been made, a heart has been betrayed, and tragedy has occurred when the song emerges from a solo voice backed by the choir and accompanied by the piano.

The first time I heard the song, I wept, and I have teared up many times since that first hearing. The whole thing is just so beautifully raw and redemptive…

…which I suppose is why it’s the first song that entered my head yesterday, on Easter Sunday.

At first, I thought it strange that this song from Hamilton was the song in my head on the highest and holiest day of the Christian year. But then I thought about it and I realized that the song embodies what Easter is all about: forgiveness, redemption, humility, hope, reconciliation, faith, and resurrection—maybe not of the body (in this instance) but of lost love, relationship, reputation, and purpose.

Yesterday after church, I wrote:

Today is
Redemption
Righteousness
Resurrection
Reconciliation
Forgiveness
Hope
Peace and
Freedom
from
death,
sin,
condemnation,
and fear.
Today is the
Kingdom of God,
The Love of God,
Right here,
Right now,
Always.

The Kingdom of God is here, friends, and we can find it wherever we look, in whatever time and space we find ourselves—including in a car while listening to a musical that we’ve put off hearing for years.

How are you experiencing Kingdom of God? When and where are you finding hope, redemption, resurrection, and reconciliation?

------

There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
And push away the unimaginable
The moments when you’re in so deep
It feels easier to just swim down

The Hamiltons move uptown
And learn to live with the unimaginable

I spend hours in the garden
I walk alone to the store
And it’s quiet uptown
I never liked the quiet before
I take the children to church on Sunday
A sign of the cross at the door
And I pray
That never used to happen before

If you see him in the street, walking by
Himself, talking to himself, have pity

Philip, you would like it uptown
It’s quiet uptown

He is working through the unimaginable

His hair has gone grey. He passes every day
They say he walks the length of the city

You knock me out, I fall apart

Can you imagine?

Look at where we are
Look at where we started
I know I don’t deserve you, Eliza
But hear me out. That would be enough

If I could spare his life
If I could trade his life for mine
He’d be standing here right now
And you would smile, and that would be enough
I don’t pretend to know
The challenges we’re facing
I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost
And you need time
But I’m not afraid
I know who I married
Just let me stay here by your side
That would be enough

If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity

Eliza, do you like it uptown? It’s quiet uptown

He is trying to do the unimaginable
See them walking in the park, long after dark
Taking in the sights of the city

Look around, look around, Eliza

They are trying to do the unimaginable

There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable
They are standing in the garden
Alexander by Eliza’s side
She takes his hand

It’s quiet uptown

Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity
They are going through the unimaginable

Marigold's Rescue

Edited out: A couple of weeks ago, I went to Barnes and Noble for the sole purpose of finding journals that might appeal to boys. I realize that what I’m getting ready to say is going to sound stereotypical, but most of the journals that we have to give as writing prizes are geared toward girls—adorned with purples, pinks, and bright greens; with flowers, dots, and hearts. While I know that there are boys who would be happy with these journals, I also know that most of the boys who write for the weekly writing challenges are more into gaming, hunting, and traditional sports playing. Now, before you scream offense, please note the qualifications with both of those sentences. I know that we have girls who are into gaming, hunting, and traditional sports playing, too. This is precisely why we let students choose their prize journal…and if at student chooses something that he/she might get picked on for, then we give it to him/her in a discreet way at the end of the day.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Barnes and Noble for the sole purpose of finding more prize-journals for school. I did not accomplish my purpose. Instead, I walked away with zero prize-journals and seven bags of presents for friends and family members—including baby gifts for the two pregnant baristas in the store Starbucks. Yes, folks: this is typical of Deanna at the Barnes and Noble clearance sale.

One of that day’s gifts that I’m most excited about giving is an American Girl sewing/activity kit that I bought for Amelia. This past summer, she took an American Girl sewing class at a day-camp and had a really nice time. I wasn’t sure if Amelia was still interested in American Girl dolls—I think we all know how interests can come and go in the worlds of the children that we love—so I wrote my sister to check on the current American Girl doll interest level. We are still high on the interest-level scale and it doesn’t seem to be fading, so I took a risk and bought the American Girl stuff—hoping and trusting that Amelia would be happy with her gifts either way. She really is a positive, grateful child.

Something you should know about Amelia’s American Girl doll collection: Most of Amelia’s dolls were purchased second-hand. I find this neat because 1) the dolls are evidently very expensive and I’m a fan of not spending more money than is absolutely needed, and 2) Amelia has no idea nor does she care that someone before her once took care of the dolls. She loves her dolls as if she is the only person ever to love them—yet—she’d still love them if she were knowingly the fifteenth person to care for them. Here’s how I know this to be true:

Amelia and Griffin are on fall break this week. [Yes. They’re in elementary school.] For their first night of fall break, they came to spend the night at the house. Even though I was in and out at church all day yesterday, I still got to spend a few hours with these two amazing kids who had grown about ten inches since the last time I’d seen them (okay—that may be an exaggeration). During lunch, Amelia was excited to share that she had gotten a new doll. Knowing her propensity toward American Girl dolls, I asked if it was an American Girl doll. She informed me that it wasn’t. It was another kind of doll that she had rescued from a consignment sale. Did you hear that? My niece rescued a doll from a consignment sale!

Evidently, this doll was in bad shape. My sister said that it looked like she had been at the bottom of the toy bin for a very long time. Amelia said that she was really dirty, that her hair was a mess, and that her face was dented in. But for some reason, Amelia really wanted her. She saw potential in the doll. She wanted to save her. Amelia couldn’t rest until she’d rescued the doll.

Marigold, as she has now been named—although I heard Amelia say “Miracle” which would have been appropriate—is currently clean, with a new hairstyle, and with less sunken-in cheeks. She has been washed with a Clorox-wipe, brushed with a tiny brush, plumped up, and properly dressed. Marigold is now part of Amelia’s doll family, non-American Girl doll though she may be.

I don’t think I need to tell you how proud this story makes me. Amelia, age seven, believes in redemption without even knowing what redemption is. She sees potential in the people and things around her and then works to save what needs to be rescued—name-brand or not. And, really, what can be more beautiful than that?

The Candles Burned Again Today

I gave my mom the rest of my summer Mondays for her birthday.

For today’s Mom Monday, mom decided that we should stay home and do chores. Our main chore was to go through some boxes of candles and continue getting ready for Nana Camp. Currently, as part of an on-going clean-up and -out project, no upstairs room is ready for occupancy by anyone other than me.

Friends, I am a good organizer.
I can sort, file, and clean with the best of them.
But I am terrible at throwing things away if they could possibly be used again and/or redeemed in any way.
This is not a new realization.
I’ve written about it before.
But I was reminded of it today as I found myself lighting almost every candle that mom gave me to throw away.

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” I’d say.
So I’d light the candle and let it burn…
Until all of a sudden I felt sick because I had so many different candles burning that their smells overwhelmed my senses.
Then I had to lie down to recover.

As I was laying on the couch in recovery,
Deal Or No Deal was playing on TV.
I heard the woman on the show repetitively turn down tens of thousands of dollars in hopes of getting more.
On her last chance, she said,
“Please God…”

I thought to myself,
“I was just saying that:
‘Please God…’
Please God, forgive me for buying in excess and creating so much waste.
Forgive me for falling prey to consumerism when I could be helping those in need.
Forgive us, as a country, for producing so much of the world’s trash and destroying your beautiful world.
Forgive us, as a people, for not being good stewards of our resources.
Please God, forgive us.”

The woman on TV was praying for God to honor her greed.
I was praying for God to forgive mine.

The candle room is still a mess.
Mom and I didn’t really accomplish a lot on our first Mom Monday,
but maybe Mom Mondays aren’t about accomplishing things.
The woman on TV won $60.
I fell asleep and awoke headache-free to a text from my sister saying that she was going to take the candles that I’d let burn this afternoon.
I suggested she not burn them all at once, though,
Lest they make her sick.
And then I smiled because redemption visited my house again today.

Peter Warmed Himself

“What is your biggest regret?”

I had pondered this question before yesterday, but the impact of the question during Patrick’s sermon was greater than it had ever been yesterday morning. I found myself crying through most of the first service, naming, for the first time, a definitive answer to the question; feeling the full weight of my regret; realizing that, while I live in God’s grace and freedom, I have not figured out how to unlock the stifling cage of regret in which I have placed myself.

Peter figured it out, though.

Not mentioning the ups and downs of Peter’s actions during the majority of his time with Jesus,
Looking only at the final days of Jesus’ life:
Peter denied Christ three times.
Then he ate fish served to him by Jesus, walked with him, talked with him, confirmed his love for him and was confirmed in his love from him three times.
Then he boldly lived his life for and declared his faith in Jesus way more than three times…

“But Peter and John replied, “Which is right in God’s eyes: to listen to you, or to him? You be the judges! As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” (Acts 4:19-20)

…

As Patrick read yesterday’s scripture passages, before my tears fully set in, I heard something that struck me as odd:

Peter followed [Jesus] at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest. There he sat with the guards and warmed himself at the fire…While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked closely at him.

Having never before noticed this warming detail, I found myself wondering: Was it cold the night the Jesus was betrayed and on the day that he was crucified? I didn’t think it was because of Passover being in Spring.

But if it was cold, then praying in the garden, receiving lashes outside Pilot’s house, and hanging on the cross in the crossroads must have been that much harder for Jesus…and that’s hard to think about.

Yet if it was not, then why does the text make such a point of saying that Peter warmed himself?

…

Have you ever received shocking news? Had something profound happen that you didn’t expect? Have you ever felt that punch in the gut? Had that sickening, shivering, back-quivering feeling leave you uncertain of anyone or anything—and crazily, unnaturally cold?

If you have, then you know that someone asking you questions that you’re not ready to answer is not a welcome experience—and those questions can be as simple as what you want for supper.

There are times when one wants to be alone with his thoughts. There are moments when, even when surrounded by people, one wants not to be seen but to stand in the shadows with his own demons.

I’m thinking that Peter was having one of those nights.

And I wondering if maybe he wasn’t so much afraid of being arrested or so in fear of being associated with Jesus as he was just in really bad space—numb—wanting to be alone—annoyed by people’s questions—cold from the shock of Jesus’ betrayal, healing of Malchus’s ear, arrest, and pending trial—and then brought back to harsh, present reality by the third crow of the rooster—when he realized all too late what he had done.

…

I don’t know. This is just my wondering. And I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Except…

If Peter overcame his prison of regret—
regardless of what led to it—
passionately and joyfully jumped off of a boat to get to Jesus
(an act that probably left him to warm himself by a fire again),
and lived the rest of his life in
forward, bold freedom:

Then surely I can, too.

And so can you.

On Mass Murder

My pastor did it again; he delivered a sermon that shed new light on a story that I’d heard many times before.

Yesterday’s light-shedding was on the story of King Herod and the three Wisemen. Specifically, he led me to think about Herod.

Over the years, Herod, though not a Jew himself, earned the title “King of the Jews” through hard work and government-pleasing decisions. In the process of obtaining this title, Herod became obsessed with power and began living a paranoid, possessive, self-absorbed reality.

Herod had people killed if he even suspected a threat or sensed disloyalty, so it’s no surprise that he was not happy when three strange men, obviously from a far away land, arrived in Jerusalem asking for the newly born King of the Jews. It’s also no surprise that he quickly devised a plan to find and destroy this newly born babe. Noone, and he meant no one, was going to usurp Herod’s power—not today, or tomorrow, or any day in the future.

And so…when Herod’s first plan to capture Jesus failed, Herod went into survival mode. Ruled by fear of losing the status that consumed him, Herod made a decree that he likely never imagined himself making: kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under. Mass murder. To kill one, unknown child who could possibly, one day, pose a threat to Herod’s throne.

Sometimes, when we’re in survival mode—when we’re trying to hold on to everything we know—good or bad—we do things we never thought we’d do. As my pastor said, “When Herod was young,I’m sure he never said, ‘When I grow up, I want to be a mass murderer.”

Likewise, I would wager that none of us ever said, “When I grow up, I want to be an adulterer. Or an addict. Or a thief. Or a liar. Or a murderer.”

But sometimes, when the world is falling apart, and all that we have worked for is slipping away, and thoughts of being alone scream louder than anything sane, and we see nothing in front of us except a string that is slipping away, we think, say, and do things we never dreamed possible. We order the mass murder of all males under the age of two,along with dreams of fidelity, freedom, righteousness, humility, integrity, and truth.

Whether we like it or not, life really does come down to a battle between two kingdoms: the kingdom of God and the kingdom of self. When Jesus was born into this world, he ushered in the kingdom of God which stood in stark contrast to Herod’s kingdom of self…and Herod wasn’t yet ready to lay down his crown.

Lyrics from two songs come to mind as I wrap up this note:

“Grasping to a string in the cold, dark stale air. It won’t get you very far. It won’t get you anywhere. It’s crying out in the night and standing for what it right that’ll heal the hurt.It’ll heal the hurt…” (--D.Deaton)

(and)

“I will rise up, rise up. And bow down and lay my crown. At his wounded feet.” (--Caedmon’s Call)

This holiday season, as we wait in anticipation to celebrate the radically, unsettling but all-together world changing birth of the King of the Jews, ask yourself to what strings you are grasping and if you are ready to begin letting go. When Jesus was born, Herod wasn’t yet there and henceforth made a horrific decree. Yet if we believe in the redemption that Jesus was born to provide, then maybe one day Herod got there. And maybe his crown is now at Jesus’ feet. And maybe ours can be, too.

Midmorning Daydream

Yesterday, the first prayer of my day was
for a friend with whom I haven't spoken in quite some time.
I had dreamed about her the night before.

Today, the first prayer of my day was
"May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, oh Lord, my strength and redeemer."
I have no idea what I dreamed last night.
Which is weird.
I usually dream in active, vivid color.

Right now, the prayer of my heart continues to be the prayer of my morning as I
Daydream of a time when all of my students
(and my friend)
(and all persons everywhere)
will know they are (or can be) safely loved and that
(at least in my eyes) there is redemption and grace.

Betrayal

Relationships are hard. Family, friend, and work relationships. Romantic and platonic relationships. In-person and long-distance relationships. Relationships are just plain hard…especially when they are met with a betrayal.

I’ve been thinking a lot about betrayal today because today is an event anniversary for me. Today marks a time in my life when I was deeply betrayed and life began to drastically change course.

As I’ve reflected upon this betrayal today and remembered the reversal of, “If you’ve needed a friend to trust, then you’ve chosen the right one,” I’ve noticed my mind wandering to Judas and Jesus.

I’ve considered the story of Jesus’ final meal with his friends and how Judas kissed Jesus before Judas completed his betrayal. Judas handed over Jesus to his enemies with the hope that Jesus would assert his authority on earth. I don’t know that Judas was necessarily trying to hurt Jesus, rather, he was trying, in his own way, to hasten Jesus’ Kingdom. Judas’ plan backfired and led to Jesus’ death, which was horrible. Yet Jesus’ death made way for hope, forgiveness, resurrection, and redemption…and I believe that if Judas had not killed himself before Jesus arose then Jesus would have embraced him with open arms.

I get this.

I wonder if Judas ever told Jesus that if he needed someone to trust then he could trust Judas. Jesus must have seen something in Judas. Jesus must have enjoyed Judas’ presence and believed in his ability to manage money. Jesus must have cared for and loved Judas because that’s what Jesus did with everyone, not to mention those he chose to keep by his side.

I suppose we never enter a relationship predicting betrayal…or if we do, then I think we hold to a deep-seated hope that our fear is wrong. Yet with every relationship we enter,we run the risk of being betrayed…or of being the betrayer.

[I’d be remiss if I didn’t confess that I, too, have been the one to betray or to push persons away from very unhealthy behavior. And for those times in my life and to the persons I have hurt, I am deeply sorry.]

And yet, we keep forming relationships. And we keep opening ourselves to love and living our lives alongside those for whom we care and feeling kisses of both passion and betrayal and finding ourselves faced with the options of hope, forgiveness, resurrection, and redemption.

---------

**“You Came Into My Life” is a song that popped into my head as I drove home today. I wrote it many years ago, but I think it fits this post well. The recording isn’t wonderful, but I posted the lyrics.
http://www.reverbnation.com/deannadeaton/songs**

This Crazy Disease Called Hope

A couple of weeks ago, my parents and I stumbled upon a show on HGTV that actually interested all of us. We watched 7 episodes of “Rehab Addict” that day and saw an entire house renovation. We were fascinated.

Nicole Curtis, the host/designer/renovator of the show, rescues old houses from demolition. Her goal is to restore houses to their original glory, using original flooring, wood, and furniture whenever possible.

She is a dumpster diver. She is a trash-pile picker. She has no shame in the fact that every piece of furniture in her house was rescued from the side of the road or a dumpster. She refurbishes thrown-out tables, dressers, medicine cabinets, bookshelves, and workbenches. She saves old windows, doors, hardwood flooring, and lumber because she knows that most of them can be reused.

She tears down walls, busts up old concrete, pours new concrete, drives the back-hoe, works with landscaping, puts in piping. She does whatever needs to be done and asks a lot of questions along the way. She believes that every opportunity is a learning opportunity.

Nicole Curtis is a single mom. She is a hard-worker who turned her life around by doing odd jobs and taking risks. She is real and down to earth. She makes mistakes and laughs at them. She forgets to get her car oil changed and runs out of gas in her moped. She enjoys spending time with her parents and is proud of her mom for recently going on her first mission trip to Africa.

Tonight, after stumbling upon the show again, I watched as Nicole took old paint to a paint recycling place where they re-use every part of old paint buckets. This is par for the course for her. She likes to partner with organizations that share her values of hope and redemption.

Curious as to who Nicole Curtis is, I googled her. As part of my reading, I scrolled down her Facebook wall and realized that what she portrays on TV isn’t an act. It’s who she is. There is a picture of her weeping after an old house was destroyed by someone who just wanted something new. She did her best to save the house—to honor the past and the beauty that it carries—but demolition won in the end. During the process of trying to save the house, she wrote:

“I was told today that houses are just ‘sticks and mortar’ -and that I get too emotionally vested. My thought is that if we start to care about the ‘sticks and mortar’ and keeping our communities intact -isn't that teaching our children to respect the past and to open their eyes? We might have fancier electronics now, but trust me--we are still facing the same stresses that people did 100 years ago in these houses. Doubt me? Sit and chat with someone that is 90 years old :). Even if you believe me, sit and chat with someone who is 90-it's refreshing and enlightening. Happy Sunday.”

At another time, she also wrote:

“Today--I'm going back at it and it doesn't matter what I am doing: saving old homes,volunteering, playing mom or being an active neighbor. My goal is to spread this crazy disease called Hope that I have (the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best).

What I hope for today is the same as everyday: people to start caring again...

One step at a time...”

Did you read those words? Her hope is that people will start caring again—one step at a time. She hopes that we will sit down and talk with persons who are 90-years-old—persons who are often overlooked yet full of beauty and depth. Nicole Curtis believes in hope. She believes in redemption. And she lives those values in her work. I think it's obvious that I admire that.

I don’t know about you, but my faith is built on hope and redemption. It stands on transforming what’s broken into something that’s whole. It rests on God saving us from the trash-heap and making us into something new. It looks at life and sees possibility. It believes that we may be persecuted but that we are not abandoned.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down,but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. 2 Corinthians 4:6-12

Life is at work within you, friend. Within us. Spreading this crazy disease called hope. One step at a time.