Augustine's Double Knowledge

"Lord, let me know myself; let me know You." 

When Pastor Corby quoted this line of Augustine's prayer in church I was a tiny bit unsettled. Praying these two thoughts as though they should be equally sought necessitates a desire to know myself uncomfortably well. I am complex, a reality for anyone made in the image of God. Combine that with my heart being "deceitful above all things" and you've got yourself a 43 year old hot mess (Jeremiah 17:9). 

Self-reflection is often overwhelming to my perfectionistic type A personality. I don't like realizing aspects of my sin that has darkened my perspective for decades. I especially hate it when others have been affected and possibly have seen things in my heart that aren't completely wonderful. I can always avoid these blindspots, ignore the humility, downplay the regret, and in the process create more regret. Or, I can prayerfully work through conflict, feelings, emotions and ask the Holy Spirit to show me my true self. The difficult process of repentance takes time and intentionality. It requires my existing in the presence of negative feelings or emotions in order to understand and name my sin. 

Rev. Rob Yancey from McLean Presbyterian Church preached a sermon recently that illuminates repentance as one of these words we say yet don't fully comprehend. He uses this enlightenment to contrast Biblical repentance with false repentance. I'm convinced the Holy Spirit gave Pastor Yancey a screenshot of my heart as he wrote this sermon. I do both. I'm often impatient for the latter and therefore tempted to settle for the former. Rob, if I can call him Rob,  reflects on three characteristics that contrast Biblical repentance with false repentance in Psalm 51: recognize that we're undone, receive grace and reveal God. "David doesn't hide his shame he uses his experience to reveal God to others."

As I backed out of my driveway a few weeks ago I noticed a crop of tiny weeds growing under my rose bushes. Trying to pull them would have required the use of tweezers and a magnifying glass. I could have painstakingly lifted each weed one at a time to ensure the roots came with each stem. Another option was to give them a quick spray of Roundup no doubt damaging the rose bush that encompasses the purpose of having a flower bed in the first place. So, I waited for the weed colony to grow. A week later I was able to easily grab this weed harvest by the fist fulls and remove them roots and all. Even the pieces I couldn't see under the soil came along with the parts that were annoying me. 

When I'm faced with pieces of Leah that allow my actions, reactions, attitudes, motives to be sinful, I regret not seeing them sooner. I take a mental walk through relationships with people I love, situations that hold value and realize I could have handled things better. Been more effective. Lived more peaceably. Even at the cost of regret and humility, I'm thankful for the time it takes to be able to fully extract those sinful pieces and any self deceit that is allowing the space for them to flourish. I'm thankful God continues to show me more of Himself so there's less room for me. I rejoice when I'm able to name the ugly that lingers in the deepest crevices of my deceptive heart. As this sludge is removed I have a clearer understanding of my continuing transformation and am able to enjoy my Savior more fully. I also value the kindness in God's resistance to use the spiritual equivalent of Roundup.

"Look upon me, that I may love You.
Call me that I may see You.
And for ever enjoy You."
-St. Augustine

Not the prettiest picture, but a beautiful sight. 

City Sidewalks and My Little Black Book

This time a year ago I was just west of London bearing witness to the good work of a church called New Life Masih Ghar. Before touring a Sikh gurdwara and Hindu temple we stopped in the middle of a neighborhood sidewalk and prayed for respect, empathy and understanding. Almost as soon as we said amen a man came running up to us. He was a Pentecostal minister who had been driving past when he felt a strong sense of the Holy Spirit. He saw us praying, parked his car, and came to meet us. Christians are hard to find in that community so when you see them praying on the street you gotta jump out of your car and say hello! Later in the week we took a tour of Southall. We walked in pairs from one spot to the next and prayed. People around us thought we were just walking and talking, unaware we were seeking the face of the True Sovereign on behalf of their city. 

Fast forward a year, downtown Chattanooga, again praying on a sidewalk. It had been a difficult week and I was a bit tender. As providence would have it I had a lunch date with one of my Covenant kids. After rich, encouraging conversation we walked out to Broad Street where he asked if he could pray for me. As I sat in the weeds of my world, his bird's eye view provided wisdom beyond his 20 years. I needed to hear his prayers as he sought the compassion and care of our Father on my behalf. 

I tend to be a little, tiny bit obsessive about most things. The less control I have the more mental fixation occurs. Not owning the struggles of others is a constant battle. I want to be faithful to listen as I share life. I want to sit with them, provide wisdom when attainable, and then with great effort I want to give them to the One who actually has real control. When the hamster wheel inside my head won't stop spinning it helps to intercede. A few years ago I began the practice of writing intercessory prayers in a little black Moleskin journal. The pages are small and just the right size to pray for a specific person and their need of that moment on that day. It renews my faith to look back over three year's of these prayers- prayers for guidance,  jobs, wisdom, resistance against sin struggles, relationships, hopes, dreams, healing, joys and sorrows. So many answered prayers! Some still pending...

What kindness it is for God to command us to pray for one another. Either standing on the sidewalk of a busy street or wherever I am when I need to break out my intercessory prayer journal. I'm thankful for the relief that prayer provides when the love that Jesus gives us threatens to overwhelm. 

This pretty lady is battling pancreatic cancer. Wherever your March Madness loyalties lie, pray for Brenda! She is one of the kindest people on the planet. 

Keep Up With this Jones Family in 2018

I give up. One's best laid plans are often thwarted by a basketball schedule, a small marketing agency (aka our fourth child) and the flu. In my fevered, cold medicine induced dreams I'll get New Years cards in the mail but they will be few in number and may not arrive until March. 

I thought I'd use this alternative method to keep the masses informed:

Emma is loving Furman and just completed her hardest semester yet. An A- in Mandarin only intensifies her gratefulness to be done with foreign language requirement. She continues to write articles for The Odyssey Online and was hired as a social media intern for the admissions department. Check out #PaLabri on Instagram to see her work. Her hopes and dreams are a conglomeration of providing mental health care to inmates in the justice system and a young man named Winston (not an inmate, just her boyfriend). She has no idea she’s the size of a shoe box but we are so proud of her insatiable desire to care for the under served and to be salt and light to those around her. 

Eliot is thriving during these high school years by filling his time with climbing, cross-country, chorus, musicals, and working at Ruby Falls. He fills every second of free time with church friends, school friends, and a special young lady named Kalee who he calls "Kale". He has been to Colorado twice this year and is convinced he is called to bike, backpack and play in the Centennial State for life. He is the hardest worker we've ever met and his heart is as kind and caring as ever. He would drop everything to help a stranger on the street.

Daniel continues to impress with his mad cerebral skills. National Standardized Tests show him in the 97th percentile in most subjects except for math where he lands in the 99th percentile. He made the JV basketball team at his middle school and transitioned from being so nervous he avoided the ball to begging his teammates to pass him the ball. He scored, stole, broke ankles, rejected, and boxed out like nobody's business. He loves being a part of the youth group and is super stoked at any sign of puberty. Danny Mac is sweet, sensitive and may possibly have his mama wrapped around his finger. He created his first cinematography exhibit and had his biggest fan in a bucket of tears. Grab a tissue and click here. 

Roundtree is now the focus of not only Andy's work week but also my own. We're thankful for how God continues to bless our efforts and excited to see it flourish in 2018!

Much Love from the Jones Family

Measurements and Image-Bearing

Today at Rock Creek we sang So Will I by Hillsong. I was so excited to help teach this new song to our congregation. I thought like most things unfamiliar the people in the wooden chairs at RCF might approach the song with hesitation. I on the other hand, was going to be bold as I sang the wonderful lyrics hoping others would feel free to do the same with confidence. The first verse went great. The chorus was also great except, I came in six beats before everyone else. I'm not saying I was wrong, but I was definitely the only one singing in that moment. Those of you who have never sung into a microphone in front of a room full of people are thinking "that sounds like the worst!" The rest of you would confirm that to be a correct sentiment. Unfortunately this will happen again as it has happened before (cue flashback to choir tour of 1990's duet with Joe Evans).

In God's sweet providence I had two events that prepped me for this moment. The first happened on Friday as I sat in Covenant College's chapel and listened to Vaneetha Rendall Risner share her story. Be kind to yourself, take some time, and listen here. One does not hear her tale of suffering, comfort and redemption without being forever changed. Her words ringing in my ears allowed my impromptu solo to feel as insignificant as it was in actuality. 

The second preparatory lesson happened Saturday morning as I spent time on my back deck reading Jen Wilkin's book "None Like Him" (shout out to Megan Hulse for loaning it to me, your handwritten thoughts on it's pages are my favorite). In the book's first chapter, Wilkin identifies God as one concerned with measurements. Her list of examples includes everything from arks, hairs on heads, grains of sand, length of limbs, circumference of our crania, and our very days. Then she reminds the reader, "all that he measures is perfect in measurement. All that he binds is perfectly boundaried." 

Music being one of God's most powerful gifts is unsurprisingly very measured. Beats make up notes, notes fill measures, measures create verses or stanzas. Add a bridge and/or a chorus and you have yourself a song. I was given the timely reminder by Wilkin just hours prior to my unfortunate miscalculation of measurement that being an image-bearer doesn't require perfection. Being an image-bearer "means reflecting as a limited being the perfections of a limitless God."

Our whole lives as Christ-followers are to be given over to the identification and celebration of the limits God has ordained for us. He lovingly teaches them to us through his Word, through trials, through discipline. He humbles us through these means to remind us that we are not him, nor is anyone or anything else we know.                            

-Jen Wilkins, None Like Him

Consider myself humbled! Later in the song this morning we all sang at the same time, much to my relief, words that had extra meaning after my rough start:

And as You speak

A hundred billion failures disappear

Where You lost Your life so I could find it here

If You left the grave behind You so will I

I can see Your heart in everything You’ve done

Every part designed in a work of art called love

If You gladly chose surrender so will I

So Will I, by Hillsong

Me and Vaneetha before Friday's chapel. 

You're gonna want to read her blog, Dance in the Rain.

Nuts and Bolts of 21 Years

Today, I've been married as many years as I have been single. When you first get married you feel so in love you couldn't possibly love the other more than you do right now. Then you struggle and work and live and a couple of decades later you realize it isn't the new exciting love anymore. It's richer, it's deeper, and it settles you. Every marriage is different and riddled with difficulty.  I wouldn't begin to think I had answers or solutions for anyone else's marriage. But here are a few connections I've made that help us remain intact.

It's important to believe in each other and encourage one another to try. When Andy Jones wants to fix something I may not be able to watch but I holler from the adjacent room my unfailing confidence. Sometimes the act of "fixing" involves drilling holes in my kitchen ceiling or days of waiting for parts to come in the mail while the guts of an appliance clutter the floor. He learned things and as the years have passed he's fixed a dryer, a freezer and the A/C without having to call a repair man. For the last few weeks he's been planning various backpacking trips to take over the coming year. As long as he doesn't try and drag me with him, I'm all for it! 

While we are two people who have become one, God has given us very different gifts. Sometimes these gifts take us each down individual avenues.  Andy sits on multiple boards of various non-profits. This takes time and resources and God graciously provides both. I have a baker's dozen worth of twenty-somethings that I love to love. As a result, two or three times a week I'm on the back deck, earbuds in, talking through someone's latest circumstance. I'm texting, writing out intercessory prayers, and walking through life with these friends. These types of activities take time and emotional energy. But living life with these peeps brings me so much joy. 

Last July Andy preached a sermon at Rock Creek Fellowship titled "Crazy Little Thing Called Love". He spoke about love, respect, and gardening. He also referred to me as a 4-H babe, which I totally am and always will be. His parting thought for RCF was that we need to give up on marriage. He said, "We need to give up placing a burden on marriage it was never meant to bear." Neither of us can be the source of joy, blessing or hope for the future. While God often gives me joy, blessing and hope through Andy, he is not the source of these blessings. Trying to find emotional or spiritual fulfillment in anyone save our sweet Savior ends in crushing not just our relationship but also ourselves. 

Out of all the posts that make up this blog, one of my favorites is from our anniversary two years ago called #19yearsandcounting. There, I lay out the fabric of our marriage. Here I give you the nuts and bolts.

We try not to make our co-workers as uncomfortable as we aspire to make our children. 

Stealth Prayer Warrior and Friend

Spring semester 2015 found me on the phone with an elderly man from Pennsylvania. Since his daughter's graduation in the 80's he had been praying for Covenant College and was looking for an avenue to find out specific needs for that castle in the clouds. As our conversation commenced I came to the amazing realization that Don had been praying over the same news letter every day for ten years. I thought, surely...I can get this man some new material.

I collaborated with other departments and put his mailing address on every list I could find. I also started copying the semester's chapel schedule in a document titled "Don's Chapel Schedule" with an additional column on the right. This column included specifics, explanations, bits of information so Don could pray effectively for our department and our school. I'd mail it to our Pennsylvania prayer warrior along with a thank you note. A few times each semester Don would give me a call. When the Chapel Department wrapped up a big conference or when students were just getting back from a break he would check in. See how things went or how students were adjusting.

Some point along the way he started asking specifics about my life, how all my college friends were, did my son make the baseball team, had Emma chosen a college. Fast forward a semester and he asked how Emma's freshman year was going, how my husband's job was, how I felt missing all those who had graduated and moved on. Quite organically, Don soon became MY prayer warrior as well. Who doesn't need more people praying for them! He would pray for me, right there on the phone as the chaos of my office commenced around me. Then he would say, "I love ya, dear!"

I have never met Don in person, I don't even know what he looks like. I know he loves puns. I know he takes care of his wife everyday. I know he goes on mission trips during the summer months. I know he believes First John 5:14 with every fiber of his being and he prays boldly and fervently for a lot of people. I know my life is better because of Don's prayers and I'm thankful. The common friendship we have with the Holy Spirit makes us comrades in this world despite differing geographic locations, never having met, and experiencing life at completely different intervals. These eccentricities of our friendship make it spectacular. It's a reminder of God's faithful, at times unconventional care for his children. 

Don's a keeper. I don't have specifics to send him about the Chapel Department and we've been playing phone tag for the last few weeks. But soon we'll touch base. I'll ask about his wife, tell him about my new job, he'll pray for me and say "I love ya, dear".  I'll remind him to let me know when he comes south to visit his daughter. Because the only thing greater than your very own prayer warrior is actually meeting him in person! Stay tuned! I believe one day it will happen!

"But it is greater friendship when the Holy Spirit comes and teaches you all things; it is greater friendship when he bears with your stupidity, and when he opens your hearts to receive the truth in the love of it. This is friendship."

Robert Murray M'Cheyne

#OhDannyMac and Stoic Stonewall

When Daniel brought me a brightly colored paper with printed instructions for his school project, I immediately started feeling cranky. WHY!?!? Why must teachers assign projects that require MY brain power, lists of materials, yard sticks and markers! Needless to say I wasn't winning any awards with my attitude and that was before I realized my child had chosen the project requiring the most artistic ability. He could have chosen to recite the Gettysburg Address or create a simple poster outlining General Grant's military strategy for one of his many battles. Oh no...Daniel wanted to make a 3D model of the stoic "Stonewall" Jackson.

Andy and I did what all good parents do and told our sweet eleven year old that he couldn't possibly make such a thing. He expressed ideas involving clay and paint with bright eyed wonder and merriment. Again we tried to dissuade him, I even texted his teacher asking if there was another way...it got ugly and tears were shed. Mrs. Aldridge, the true hero of this tale, sent me a web address with instructions how to create a paper mache mask. She told me, and I quote, "Daniel is going to make the BEST project!" Reluctantly and with little to no gusto, I jumped on board reminding Daniel that this will have to be all his work cause Mama has zero artistic ability. I can't cut a straight line...never could! Just ask my mother! But Danny Mac and I put our heads together, followed the instructions exactly and created a big balloon covered ball. Then I sent it with him to school for he and Mrs. Aldridge to finish. DONE...right?

There just wasn't enough time in the school day to complete the project so the balloon head came home like a boomerang. Internally I panicked while Andy bought paint and Daniel went to work. He painted a face on that balloon head. Then he painted a box grey and added black lines to look like a stone wall for effect. He painted another box grey and cut out yellow buttons for the front of that box, slapped the face painted balloon head on top and BOOM! Stoic Stonewall in the flesh (well, sorta). Honestly, it's amazing. While I'm super proud of Danny Mac and his crazy fifth grade artsy skillz I feel I have a lot to learn.

Looking back at the ordeal in it's entirety I can't allow myself to overlook my parenting fail. Actually, I may have even failed at just being a good human. As I analyze, I realize my hesitation wasn't due to my fear that Daniel wouldn't accomplish his goal of completed project and pride in his accomplishment. My reluctance was that I couldn't help him do it perfectly. I'm a perfectionist. It's not a terrible thing until it's a terrible thing. I'm thankful that after 18 years at this parenting gig they teach me so much more than I could possibly teach them. I can't help how precisely I see life. My attention to detail helps me do the jobs God has given me to accomplish. This quality becomes a curse when I try and apply it to others and especially in this case when I tried to require perfection in a 5th grade school project for my youngest child. 

Happy Mother's Day guys...thanks for your patience as I continue to learn what it means to be your mama.

Presenting to younger students

He still loves me and lets me be his proud Mama

Talking Stonewall with Superintendent Raines