Perishable

Voicemail from yesterday: “Perishable Package. Please pick it up at your earliest convenience.” 

This is what I’ve been thinking about. 

(fair warning--as usual, most likely overthetop : })

A couple of things—I don’t even like flowers all that much—I can enjoy them and revel in nature and even think they brighten a home, but spending money on sappy gifts and such never has appealed to me. Even so, I had a smile from deep within on my face as I walked away from the campus post office with my “perishable package.” I was eversoblessed by my father (Eric Ness) who reminds me of my heavenly Father. My dad remembered me and reminded me of his love for me as his daughter by sending me cyclamen with a note on Valentine’s Day as he has for so many years! Calls to mind: How deep the Father’s love for us…, consistency and commitment, memory, surprise, delight, sweetness, grace, gift, cherish, life, brevity and faithfulness.

Even in our fallen, dying selves, the Lord clothes and cares for the vainglory of the flowers (Mtt. 6, Lk. 12). It’s ironic that Dr. Ness sent the cyclamen to his daughter who is a Swedish flower, who has been meditating on the verse that stuck out to me in upper elementary school at LWBC “All people are like grass, and all their glory and faithfulness is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them, (perishable packages), but the word of the Lord our God endures forever” (Is. 40 and 1 Peter 1). The passage in Isaiah is reminding the people of God’s sovereignty and his faithfulness to his people, and Peter is reminding us that we can now live out sincere love (apt for Valentine’s Day or single’s awareness day) because we can “love one another deeply, from the heart” now that we are not only of perishable seed, but “imperishable through the living and enduring word of God!”                           

In reflecting on my given name and more so on the reminder of the ancients in the faith who called on the name of the LORD. I can quickly forget the power in the name of Jesus, the presence of Jehovah, the truth of Adonai, all of who He is in His glory and my fallenness as one of the flowers of the field, Linnea. Gentle flower. I miss that mark in the sense that I struggle with gentleness in word and deed, any evidence thereof is by the mercy and grace of the Holy Spirit.  I live up to my name in the sense that I am here today and gone tomorrow, sometimes beautiful in the essence of who I was created to be, known from before my time (Ps. 139) and given a place (1 Jn. 3:1), altogether perishing and being made new. Struck by paradox and finitude in the wake of Ash Wednesday and a general awareness of my shortcomings and the beauty that I am part of.   

Second thing—IV (the 5 yr-old in the family I’ve been babysitting for over the past few years--such a challenge and gift!), says to me today, “Hey Linnea, you know why I didn’t want to play with ya on Wednesday? It was because of your forehead. I haven’t been to church in a while, so I haven’t really seen that stuff. …It was ashes? Oh, it looked kinda like hair. It was only a little terrifying.” (He had managed to keep his eyes mostly on the ground as he gave me a high-five and headed upstairs Wed.) His 1 ½ year-old brother’s reaction on Wednesday was a little bit of hesitancy, but also curiosity, in pointing and soon overcoming and playing like normal with me.

Having ashes on my forehead on Wednesday was a reminder of what we should/do look like to the world—a bit strange and recognizable, mourning the brokenness and praying hosanna, His kingdom come only through the Messiah. Yet, we become pretty normal and some don’t even notice, and there is a beauty to questioning and also to accepting that I learn from hanging out and taking care of these kids.

I was privileged to have some good conversation with Amber,* (the mom) about teaching children about sin and the complexity of the Lenten season, and IV and I had some careful conversation about the 40 days before Easter and the reminders of death and sad and bad things in the world while hoping for Jesus.

I’m stuck on our mortality in a different way than I was as a third grader overly solemn about dying (thought I might at least die a hero’s death at that time : }). More and more aware of the brevity and urgency of life, but not in the helter-skelter panic or competition nor quite epicurean. Urgency and brevity in the sense that we need to be purposeful, pursuing life, being ministers of reconciliation, reveling in moments of glory, administering healing and peace, challenging with Truth, laughing and not taking ourselves too seriously, celebrating God’s abundant goodness, crying real tears, asking hard questions and actually taking action…

Sometimes this will look like slowing down. Sometimes this will be playing tough and being courageous. Sometimes this will be stepping up and persevering. I definitely would still give myself a floundering grade at life, but I’m coming alive by dying again, I think. Not my own.

Came to mind and won’t leave…

“Two little lines I heard one day, 
Traveling along life’s busy way; 
Bringing conviction to my heart, 
And from my mind would not depart; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Soon will its fleeting hours be done; 
Then, in ‘that day’ my Lord to meet, 
And stand before His Judgement seat; 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, the still small voice, 
Gently pleads for a better choice 
Bidding me selfish aims to leave, 
And to God’s holy will to cleave; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, a few brief years, 
Each with its burdens, hopes, and fears; 
Each with its clays I must fulfill, 
living for self or in His will; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

When this bright world would tempt me sore, 
When Satan would a victory score; 
When self would seek to have its way, 
Then help me Lord with joy to say; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Give me Father, a purpose deep, 
In joy or sorrow Thy word to keep; 
Faithful and true what e’er the strife, 
Pleasing Thee in my daily life; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Oh let my love with fervor burn, 
And from the world now let me turn; 
Living for Thee, and Thee alone, 
Bringing Thee pleasure on Thy throne; 
Only one life, “twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Now let me say,”Thy will be done”; 
And when at last I’ll hear the call, 
I know I’ll say “twas worth it all”;(vale la pena) 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. ”

Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. 
And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be, 
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee.”

--C.T. Studd

Unsure of where this takes me, but willing to sit and soak for a bit. Turning inward, to Him. If Christ came, lived, suffered, died, rose, and intercedes, I certainly can take a little time to think and maybe mourn and move.