Mourning

This semester I am enrolled in a creative writing course…stop laughing, I’m serious. And, despite whatever preconceived notions you have about a creative writing course in seminary, this class has given me the opportunity to express many deep, theological convictions in ways previously foreign to me. One such opportunity came when our class was asked to reflect upon the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington D.C. Not having had the opportunity to visit this landmark, my thoughts focused instead on the idea of mourning loss. It was in my preparation for that writing assignment that I realized our society has lost the ability to grieve well. Throughout scripture mentioning of sackcloth and ashes, wailing, renting of clothing, and utter despair accompany bereavement. Now funerals exhibit starched clothing, manicured appearances, and hushed whimpers as we attempt to add dignity to suffering. It is my firm conviction that mourning plays a purposeful and redemptive role in the life of a believer (c.f. Ecclesiastes 7:4; and verses which speak on suffering, Romans 8:17 in particular) and we would be wise to follow in the footsteps of our spiritual ancestors who grieved openly, loudly, and genuinely. Rejoice with those who rejoice, but, please, remember to WEEP with those who WEEP.

Silent Grief by Nika Spaulding

Hurried tears and gentle sobs escape the young widow.

Induced smiles conceal the writhing hands of a bereaved mother.

Somebody lied to them, to us.

“Dignity emerges in restraint,” paralyzes their sorrow.

Etched names satisfy our need to commend.

But, who receives the honor?

Consideration killed grief.

Reverence excised wailing, but left a wall.

Silence replaced weeping

Sackcloth exchanged for starched suits

Where is your sting O Death?

We forgot how it feels.

For Baby J

For those of you who know me, you knew this day was coming: a blog about my niece. I simply had to. But, since I know you all have endured my relentless reminders of how amazing she is, I figured I would post this awfully, embarrassing video of me with her to offer as a small sacrifice. Of course, the video has purpose. As I’ve watched this video repeatedly, I’m constantly struck by the frailty of my niece and her sheer dependence on me to hold her. I’m not even brave enough to type about the results that could occur if I were to fail on my end.

Now perhaps it’s because I’m in seminary, or perhaps it’s because I was holding her around Christmas time but this video also makes me think of Jesus (yes, you should find it humorous that I am singing such a ridiculous song and am still reminded of my Lord and Savior). However, the concept of an all-mighty God who transcends time and space coming to Earth in the flesh as a mere babe simply astounds me.

Jesus, our only worthy sacrifice on behalf of sins, was once swaddled and held by human hands—the same human hands that needed him to go to cross because they were covered in filth which comes by way of the flesh.

As I sometimes think about my niece, there are so many “what ifs” that plague my mind—what if she gets hurt? What if she gets abducted? What if my sweet Lord takes her home soon? (Even the thought of it brings tears to my eyes as I type.) Then I think about Jesus and the same “what ifs” could have applied. However, the implications are so different it’s hard to imagine them on the same plane. What if Christ would have been murdered under Herod’s decree? What if Jesus would have been stoned by the Jews prior to the cross? What if Jesus would have been trampled by a crowd?… what if? what if? what if? Would he not have still atoned for my sins? Would their still be wrath stored for me? Would he not be coming back for us all?

Then one word always hushes the racing hypothetical situations: sovereignty.

Sovereignty. God’s got this. All of this. He had Jesus, and He has my niece.

I simply cannot fathom being in God’s place sending my son down to earth to be cared for my humanity. He’s seen our wretchedness, our evil, our reckless pursuit of sin and yet placed His Son in our midst to be cared for by one of us: one of the harlots. Of course, I cannot fathom this act because I’m not God. This obvious and understood statement brings me to my point: although I am not God, that does not excuse me from trusting His plan and work in my life and the lives of those around me. I want so much for my niece to live a life free from harm, pain, or discomfort; yet, I know that this life will bring her hurt, sorrow and even despair at times. My comfort is in knowing that God was trustworthy with His son, even orchestrating the salvation of the world through wicked humanity.

Although Jesus was cared for by human parents, His heavenly Father was always calling the shots. The same is true for my niece. God’s got her. What better place for her to be?

Jeremiah 10:23 LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.

Next Stop: Heaven

Hey Friends,

Just some thoughts from a recent spiritual retreat I took.

Season of Grace

Friends,

Here is my first vlog ever. It's a bit rough since it's an unedited, uncut one-take. Hope you can push through the amateurism of the film :)

Merry Christmas.

Thanks Be To God

Ex 23: 16 Also you shall observe… the Feast of the Ingathering at the end of the year when you gather in the fruit of your labors from the field.

In one simple verse, God ordained from that time forward an annual celebration for the Jews to offer their gratitude for the bounty Yahweh had abundantly and graciously provided during the harvest. Clearly, Thanksgiving began way before the Pilgrims. This Feast of Ingathering, later referred to as Feast of Booths or Tabernacles, parallels very well with our November feast. Leviticus 23:40 tells the reader the Jews were to celebrate this time joyfully and 23:43 offers that this time is an opportunity to remind the Jews of the temporary dwellings during the Exodus. Later in Zechariah 14:16-19 the prophet warns of the consequences for those who refuse to pay homage to God—no rain and plagues. In short, the Feast of Tabernacles was a time of year where to the Jews traveled to the Temple to celebrate God for an entire week. They cried out to God, thanking Him for His provision and pleading with Him to provide again for the next harvest.

Fast forward. John 7. Enter Jesus. The beauty of this passage is staggering.

In John 7, Jesus enters Jerusalem during the Feast of Tabernacles and offers words and a promise to the Jews never heard before. These men and women would have been celebrating all week long the bounty of Yahweh and would have been beseeching Him to provide a blessing. And, it is in this backdrop that Jesus, on the last day—after all the beseeching, praying, celebrating, and yearning—made this declaration:

“If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, 'From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'"

Jesus, in this short but powerful phrase turned this entire Feast on its head. No longer would the Jews need to long for the provision of Yahweh, He had come. No longer would the Jews need to yearn for rain, living water had come. No longer would the Jews need to travel to the Temple, the Word was now dwelling among them.

Yet, despite the fact that Jesus completely changed the content of this Feast, its purpose remained: give thanks. And so we will. But, let us give it like those who have read John 7, and who gush living waters.

God, thank you for your Son, and for the sacrifice He made on the cross, may we never forgot what you’ve done and who you are.

Underdog

Watch the video first. And turn up the volume.
If you’re anything like me, that video hits you in the soul, your eyes light up, your adrenaline spikes and you think to yourself, “Man, I love sports.” But ,maybe there is more to it than just sport. Maybe, something inside my soul cherishes the underdog, something loves the defiance of expectation, something begs for greatness to emerge from the weak or the unknown. Think about it, movies are seldom made focusing on the team expected to win the championship; instead, we flock to watch the story of the unexpected nobodies achieving the impossible. Movies like Rudy, Miracle, Remember the Titans, and, yes, even Mighty Ducks tug at our souls engaging something inside of us that yearns for the triumph of the human spirit over the seemingly insurmountable foe. Maybe it’s no mistake or a fabrication of society that this yearning is weaved into the very fiber of humanity.

There is a line in the middle of the video that says, “Sometimes passion has a funny way of trumping logic.” To that line I simply respond, “Amen.” There is nothing logical about the death on a cross of a man dying for the soul of a putrid, undeserving, wicked woman like ME. There is nothing logical about the shameful exposure of Jesus’ naked body at Golgotha FOR ME. There is nothing logical about my heavenly Father being pleased to shame his son FOR ME. But again, passion on that day trumped logic, and it will again, and again as long as God is in charge.

And since Christ went to the Cross for me, my soul was invited to rejoice in the greatest underdog triumph in all of humanity. Think about it, the entire Old Testament pointed towards the coming Messiah. The Hope of the Jewish people rested in this “wonderful counselor” they had only heard about, read about, prayed for, and longed for. And finally, as prophesy said it would, he came!!! He came!!! But, oh no, he came as a baby? To a virgin mother? But, Jesus grew in wisdom and stature and around 30 he began to do ministry. But, what is this? Our Messiah, our Great Deliverer, is not concerned with the upheaval of Caesar and the government? And, he teaches that we are to turn the other cheek and love our neighbors as a Samaritan would? Where is our victory!? Where is our Messiah?! And then, as the history books tell us and our Bible testifies, they killed our Messiah. He was supposed to be the one, the one who was to save us all, and they killed him. Where is our victory?! Where is our triumph?!…It was fourth down, it was the bottom of the ninth, backs were against the ropes, all hope was lost, death was stronger, death was mightier, and death was winning…but three days later, oh! Three days later, our underdog, our deliverer, our Messiah sprang forth from that tomb and our King won the battle of all battles and has offered the riches of his victory to us.

Oh yes, something inside of me yearns for the underdog to win, and Christ satisfied that yearning and has welcomed me to walk in that victory with him. So, as that video says, Folks, “we’ve got ourselves a game”…and to that I would add, and we already know the outcome.

Heavenly Perspective

One of the greatest joys of my life has been experiencing the continued blessings I received by working five summers at K2 (Kanakuk Kamps--a christian sports camp). As I’ve often looked back on these fond times, there are certain memories that seem to hold greater intrinsic value for me—leading kids to Christ, preaching the word at Backwoods, baptizing kampers, etc. Amidst all of these tender remembrances rises one memory I continue to enjoy regularly.
When I was a counselor for cabin 19, I used to stay up late at night talking to one camper in particular (sorry Trish). Literally, for long stretches of time we would have conversations like this:

Camper: Nika, someday we’re going to be in heaven.
Me: I know, isn’t that awesome.
C: No, it’s so much better than awesome.
Me: Yeah, there are no words to describe the awesomeness.
C: And, it’s going to be forever.
Me: I know, I can’t wrap my mind around that.
(Silence as we both tried to contemplate forever)
C: No, I mean forever.
Me: Yeah, forever.
(Giggles ensued as we became giddy over the thought of dwelling with God forever in Heaven)
Camper: No, but Nika, someday we’re going to be in heaven…(and then the convo cycled like this for quite some time).

There are so many reasons why I love this memory, none of the least of which is because I particularly adore this camper still to this day. However, the reason tonight I am holding this memory so dear is because it marks one of the first times I really dwelled upon the eternality of my faith and relationship with God.

I am such a finite being with such feeble finite thoughts. Naturally, this earthly perspective allows me to navigate through the necessary tasks and endeavors of life. However, it also robs me of recognizing the purpose for all of my necessary tasks and endeavors: to glorify God. So many times I press on in this life toward my humanly goals, but Paul pressed on to win the prize for which God had called him heavenward (Phil 3:14).

The more I dwell on God’s will and purpose for my life, the more I am convinced that it is absolutely necessary to bathe my actions in an eternal perspective. If not, sharing Christ becomes a burden instead of an opportunity to shape someone’s future forever. If not, reading my bible becomes a legalistic task instead of an opportunity to learn about the God I will worship for eternity. If not, the trials of this world overwhelm my spirit instead of viewing them as experiences to sanctify me before my final dwelling. If not, I fiercely seek the desires of the flesh and temporary things of this world instead of forsaking all to walk with the Lover of my Soul. Simply put, without an eternal perspective my motives and desires are in great jeopardy of pursuing my will instead of God’s.

Someday I will be with God in heaven, and more and more I desire for that day to draw near. But until that day, I do not want to live my life as if heaven is a distant destination and I am simply waiting. Rather, I want to live my life as one who constantly remembers where I’m heading and my purpose until I get there.

Camper: Nika, someday we’re going to be in heaven.
Me: I know, let’s press on in the faith so that when that day comes we can say we’ve been poured out like a drink offering and God will say well done good and faithful servants, welcome home.