Glorying Fool

Bondage. Beating. Shipwreck. Stoning. Lashing.
Pain. Hunger. Thirst. Cold. Nakedness. Weakness.

From one travesty, misfortune, hardship to another. The list goes on.
Perils by sea. Perils by land. Perils by robbers, countrymen, heathen and city dwellers.

I have two questions. 

One—who could possibly endure all these things?
And two—how could anyone end such a list with gratitude?

Paul did.

And on top of a list a mile long, he also suffers from his "thorn in the flesh."
Yet he proclaims that Grace is sufficient. That strength is found through weakness.
(And through infirmity, and reproach, and persecution.)

And he calls himself the glorying fool. Because he refuses to abandon gratitude.
I marvel this man who possesses indomitable gratitude.

May I be such a one.

Blessed and Broken

In contemplating gratitude I am reminded of a story, actually two stories. Stories that have been the theme of my year…

It's bread He holds in His hands as He lifts eyes to heaven on the crowded hillside surrounded by 20,000 people or in the upper room with His special twelve. This bread, this life, this miracle waiting to happen…

After He blesses, He breaks. Because brokenness without blessing makes men destitute and hearts grow cold.

The blessing always comes before the breaking. 

Yet brokenness is not the end of the story.
Blessed bread is broken and given away. And it's in the giving that it's multiplied. 

Healing comes through brokenness.

The promise grows to meet our need. Whether twelve or twenty thousand.
Miracles happen. Bread is multiplied. Hearts are fed. But only through torn pieces.

--

I’m blessed and broken, as a token, of a love I can’t deny. 

I’m torn in pieces, by my Jesus, the only way to beautify. 

Though the pain be bittersweet, This transformation He will complete.

I’m blessed and broken, for only brokenness can heal.

© Glesni Mason, 2013

The Thankful One

Dust billows and rises under tired feet to meet fading day. On the horizon silhouettes form the welcoming outline of a small town where thirteen weary travelers anticipate spending the night. Gathering fatigue slows the pace of some, quickens others. All is silence besides the gentle crunch of footsteps.

Suddenly a gasp escapes the lips of one in the group as ten shadowy figures approach the travelers.
They are untouchables. They are the lowest of the low. They are lepers.

I can feel the tension, the awkwardness of the moment.

"What audacity!" one disciple whispers to the other.
"The nerve of them! Don't they realize that this is prohibited by law?"

Audacity indeed.
And Someone recognizes it.

Ten men cry for mercy from One who men say is the Mercy-Giver.
Jesus commands them to go. And they go.

Following the running men at a relaxed pace, the group of disciples and their Master continue on.
The gates of the village are not far now. Warmth and nourishment are imminent.

Yet silence is abruptly interrupted again as a man rushes excitedly toward them.
It's one of the lepers with tears flowing freely down glistening cheeks. He has something to say.

"Thank you, Jesus… 
       …thank you, thank you, thank you."

In his delirious euphoria he can say nothing more. But that doesn't matter. 
This Samaritan has grasped what Christ has been vainly trying to teach the Jews for months.

Gratitude is a lifestyle.

One man was thankful and soon his testimony converted hundreds.
Because his thanksgiving was not a one time event, but a way of life.

And I wonder what kind of thanksgiving I have…
Am I living a life of gratitude?

Beautiful Ugly

I love all things beautiful.
And it's a beautiful life I live. Every part of it.

Oh, I may cry. I may wonder.
I may wish things were different.
I may at times wish to see beyond the misty shroud upon my pathway.

Yet my God is also a lover of the beautiful. 
And making my life beautiful is exactly what He is attempting to do. Even through the ugly.
Because sometimes it is the ugly that makes something beautiful. 

Sometimes it's the only thing…

The beautiful-ugly.
If anything falls under the category of miracle, that does.

A miracle of Love poured out upon an ugly planet bathed in ugly scars.
A miracle that transforms ugly hearts.

A miracle that looks past ugly surfaces to discern uncut diamonds, hearts of beauty covered by years of filth.

He calls the ugly beautiful…
        He calls each beating heart beautiful…
                He calls me beautiful…

And He promises to love me forever and always. Not because I'm beautiful, but because I'm ugly. 
It's the ugly that makes the greatest contrast when transformation occurs anyway.

He calls my ugly beautiful.
My love overflows.

He Always Endures More

I climb part of the hill behind our house to my special place of communion. Rugged boulders wait serenely as though they were the thrones of majesties themselves. A cloudless blue sky envelops the world with brilliant rays of sunlight. In the distance I hear cheerful bird melodies while I watch a silvery-blue butterfly rest gently upon my bare toes. It's time to be still…

There are few things I cherish more than peace. 

My mind has travelled thousands of pathways in the last few weeks. Big decisions to make. Places to minister. People to love. 

Yet atop my mountain top perch with a birds-eye view, my mind wanders. 

--

A heavy groan pierces the silence of midnight. The stark moonlight shining through the olive branches seems to cut the blackness like a sharp knife. Huddled beneath their cloaks a few hundred feet away can be seen a few drowsy figures. The entire atmosphere seems triggered, waiting with cold tenseness.

Stillness is broken by a movement in the shadows. A pallid form raises from the hard ground shaking in sobs of anguish. Following the silent path of gravity, blood stains red the place of conflict. With faint but determined voice come the words, "Not My will, but Thy will be done. I choose to surrender. I will give all."

Suddenly His haggard form crumbles to meet the earth. This struggle has drained from Him every ounce of strength. He has made the choice.

--

I review this scene while gazing silently across the pined landscape and my mind returns to the cause of this remembering.

Upon the cross and in the garden over two thousand years ago He shouldered the sins for an entire world of ungrateful creatures.

He took them all. He bore it all. He chose it all.

And yet when everything is said and done, Satan will only suffer for the sins of the righteous.

Christ always endures more. 

His love encompasses, His heart throbs as one in our sorrow, in our agony, in our joy.

He has been through it all, and He understands.

Trust Him.

Do You Realize?

I lie on my bed, the sun shining in its brilliant splendor outdoors, yet my eyes closed and curtains drawn indoors. My head pounds like hammer on anvil. Yes, I have plenty of time to think today. Plenty of time to be still…

Sometimes God gives me the gift of a different solution to my questions than I intended. Yet beneath my thin sheet, mask and earplugs, I am smiling. I am counting my blessings. 

I laugh sometimes at His sense of humor. Perhaps I shouldn't, but if you knew all the circumstance you might just laugh too. :)

It's been three weeks since I landed on this soil. Three weeks to the day. They have come and gone like sand through a sieve. And as I lie in complete consciousness amidst the muted childlike activity beyond my open window, I can't help but review them. 

Humid mornings attending preschool. Soccer games in black of night. Unexpected hugs at anytime of the day from anyplace on campus. Surprises not to be forgotten. Finger-feeding blended beans and non-sticky rice to one-year-olds. An aching arm from pushing kids on swings over one hundred times some days. The struggle to communicate in a language unfamiliar. A muddy yet exciting hike up the mountain. Honduran noises. (I'm convinced these people must be half deaf). Baleada (among other authentic food) experiments in the kitchen. The early morning bird chorus. Coloring, creating, making activities for the kids. Purchasing school supplies when you don't know what half the things are. A hefty stalk of perhaps 60 medium-sized bananas for a dollar. Continual prayers to show Jesus. Time in La Zona with friends old and new alike. Emails from friends that challenge and encourage me. The realization of my abundance once again. A sick day. The opportunity to simply be here. 

Yes, I'm thankful for all these things and so much more. 

Wiping one tear. Creating one smile. Holding one child. Changing one diaper. Pushing one swing. Hearing "Glesy" dozens of times a day. Doing one thing to bless one person, to touch one life…

Do you realize how blessed you are? There are thousands of children who would prize just your worn pillow as their greatest treasure. There are thousands of children who would do anything for just one bowl of food from your table. There are thousands of children who want nothing more than someone to care. 

Do you realize how much you owe?

Sisters

Camera happy? :)

Just like Migel…

Happiness

Can't get over those eyes…

Little friends

Nicole

This swing is the favorite

Cuteness

Watching

I love Arturo's smile…

Ramon and Yeferson

Joy

Genesis… :)

Jump!

Don't ask… :)

We Call It Sacrifice?

{Jeremiah 33}

“…and of them that shall bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord…”

I rest back into my chair and mull over this phrase.

We call a lot of things sacrifice. Giving a miserly amount for missions. Setting down a good book to go help our parents with a project. Speaking to someone who’s feeling lonely when we would rather be conversing with friends. Spending a day helping at the homeless shelter. Adhering to healthy lifestyle principles just because we know it’s good for us. Putting aside our selfish nature for the benefit of others.

We call this sacrifice. And I rebel.

Because if Christ truly has our hearts, the above is not sacrifice; it’s joy. Pure joy.

When the wellspring of Christ’s joy is in our hearts, to give is to gain; to obey is our pleasure; to share is our song. 

It’s an all-consuming pursuit of happiness of the eternal variety.

And praise? For the Israelites it was embodied in a physical offering, yet there is also the verbal aspect.

We often pride ourselves, thinking we declare our praise and adoration quite often.

We praise God when we call on Him and He shows us great and mighty things. We praise God for healing. We praise God for the big things in our lives. And to us, it seems no sacrifice. The blessings are so obvious.


But what about the things we take for granted? Or perhaps the things that don’t appear to be blessings?

Little things.

Like a minute of sun piercing through the clouds. Like a plethora of Bibles sitting on our shelf. Like instructive criticism from a caring mother. Like golden tamarack trees dotting the hillsides. Like a toothbrush. Like giving to sustain and educate a girl across the world. Like the gift of learning. Even like trials and temptations, suffering and pain, heartache and tears.

Yes, all these are worthy of our gratitude and praise. Through the eyes of the Infinite we can view even the thorniest valley as a gift from the Giver. And we mustn’t forget to pour out our hearts in thanks to the Giver Himself…

With all that He has done for us, praise is no sacrifice; to give is pure joy.

Filled with Gratitude

Another year has passed into unalterable history. My heart is filled beyond over-flowing with gratitude. My God has been so gracious to me this year.

I think back on lessons He has taught me and opportunities I have had… They are all blessings. 

I see His fingerprints everywhere along my path. 

My thankfulness encompasses two consecutive days. Special days. Days to especially express gratitude from the depths of my heart. Not that I don't thank Him every day of the year. I do.

But I've had special time to ponder my thanks over the past couple days. I cannot but praise Him. 

For so many things…

My spiritual experience has gone deeper this year than ever before. I have been pushed and encouraged  by friends and my fire has been kindled brighter by the coals from His fire. You know who you are… Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

I have learned so many lessons: That adversity is my greatest blessing, every life matters, brokenness brings transformation, war takes every last drop of blood I have. Yet He has enraptured my heart.

I have also been blessed with so many opportunities this year that I never could have dreamed of on my own. God always out-gives. Always…

I'm counting my blessings, yet they are innumerable.

Thank you, Father… I know You will prove Yourself faithful yet again this coming year.