Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Looking through our pictures on facebook, friends wonder why the refridgerator is next to Emeth's crib. Now, if they look at enough pictures, they would realize that the dining room, Emeth's nursery, my study, our library, and our kitchen (separated by a counter) are all in the same room.

This is our world. Our first home as husband and wife. The place where we had our first child, where we will welcome our second child. And it is precious to me.

In preparation for our new arrival, I've been on a rampage! I've been digging through closets, rummaging through shelves, opening boxes, and uncovering carpet. Most delightfully, I've been donating and throwing things away. I am learning to be ruthless. Clearing clutter is serious business.

I mean, I had food hidden deep in my shelves that expired back in 2007. GROSS.

At church, Hans is preaching a series on the Gospel of Matthew. We've been dwelling in the Sermon on the Mount for a few weeks now (Matthew 5-7). Last Sunday, concerning laying up treasures in heaven (Matt 6:19-24), he asked us what our treasure were.

What do we love? How do our lives reflect where we place our affections?

Our time is limited. The space of our lives is confined, and is precious. To have an orderly home, we must be ruthless when it comes to what needs to stay and what needs to go.

There is much clutter in my life. There are things hidden in dark corners that had expired back in 1985. GROSS. Am I really going to eat that?

Grudges and youthful infatuations,
Rotten, infested sins,
Useless expensive things,
Things that do not even fit anymore,
Stubborn habits, bloody stains.

Lord, enter my heart like a whirlwind and make me clean.

Thursday, April 15, 2010


While walking on campus today, I saw the husband of my friend who recently passed away. He was deep in thought, eyes downcast.

She entered into new life as he read Isaiah 40 by her side,
All flesh is grass,
and all its beauty like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the LORD blows upon it;
surely the people is grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand for ever.

(Isaiah 40:6-8)
Her death has been a gentle and effective instructor; it teaches with a rod.

As I kneel down and look into Emeth's eyes, "Darling, I want you to obey immediately," I hear my voice echoing the same instruction given to me. "When mommy says come, you come."

No excuses.
No delay.

When I am tired and weary, her death forces me to turn, to repent from my great urge to complain, and acknowledge my ungrateful heart.

I have another meal to serve and share.
Another walk, while holding hands.
Another song to sing, even with this broken, imperfect voice.
I get to hear "mommy" and "darling" just one more time.
Another new word to celebrate, new alphabet to conquer.
Another cuddle.
Another conversation around the dinner table, even with the frustrations of misunderstandings and inadequate words.
Another night to sleep with the hope of seeing another sunrise.

Another day,
One more chance to obey, to repent
before I must stand before the throne
and give an account of my choices,
what I have done,
what I have left undone.

Obey immediately, darling.