Waking up at three in the morning just to wait in line and fight over the last widget in the store. Doesn’t sound like a deal to me!

Besides, it’s not even where to find the best stuff this year. I’ll let you in on a little secret – the best stuff for all the loved ones on your Christmas list can be found at the Handmade Holiday Open House. Stop by 811 Magnolia Drive, Altamonte Springs, 32701 on Sunday, December 4th anytime between 2:00pm and 6:00pm for the best selection of handmade gifts east of I-4!

Stephanie Rex is hosting this fun holiday open house, featuring the following vendors:

Sarah Fanok of Lilyfly’s Garden
Amy Gabriel of Gabriel’s Good Tidings
Kendyl Troxel of Mae Sue’s Designs
Kelly Simpson with Hair Flair & Handmade Cards

There will be a wonderful selection, with trinkets and goodies for all ages – Children are welcome. Shop handmade this holiday season. Feel free to bring friends – the more the merrier!

We know with the hustle and bustle of the holidays that each day is packed full of fun things to do. That’s why we’ve taken the initiative and combined two of our favorite things: crafting and worship. The biggest difference between this open house and every other sale you’ll attend this year is that we’re crafting for a cause. A portion of the proceeds from Amy’s and Kelly’s booths at this sale will benefit the Building Fund at Orlando Grace Church.

Amy and I were talking after church one day and decided that this is one way we’d love to serve the body. We already love crafting and decided to offer it up as an act of worship. So many others have had great ideas – selling calendars, putting on concerts, taking photos – all to benefit the building fund and the “Each One Seek One” initiative. We figured – whatever your thing is – do it for the Glory of God. If you babysit or cook or build chairs or clean teeth or balance ledgers or write insurance policies – do it for the Lord. We hope that this not only provides an opportunity to check off many gifts from your list, but that it also encourages others to think creatively in fund raising, and to worship in all of life.

Now doesn’t that sound way better than fighting over Black Friday deals?

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” Colossians 3:23

I’ll say a word and you tell me what pops into your head first. Ready?

Hospitality.

Here are things that come to my mind: cleaning the house, setting the table, breaking out the real place mats and napkins, hours of careful cooking, inviting people over, using the good china, providing a cozy environment, lighting candles, serving others in tangible ways.

I’m not the best cook and sometimes the floor needs vacuuming, but I like to think of my house as welcoming, open, and hospitable. But how does my life display hospitality? I am busy. I am scheduled. I do not have time for surprises or interruptions. I have a plan and feel terrible if I do not accomplish my list of things to do each day. A good day to me is a productive day. So what happens when a friend calls who needs to talk? Do I put aside my to-do list or ignore the phone call? What happens when a patient at work needs lots of extra time? Do I love them well or do I roll my eyes, constantly recalculating how to make up this time later on? How do I handle the unplanned?

While thinking about hospitality in this way – I’ve discovered just how inhospitable my life is.

What if I did something totally different and defined hospitality as leaving room for others in my life?

I want to be more open and less scheduled. More available and less programmed. I want to handle the unexpected, the urgent, the surprising, and the interruptions with grace. As Henri Nouwen said near the end of his life, “My whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered the interruptions were my work.” Fellowship. Community. Talking about life’s blessings and troubles. That’s where true ministry and hospitality bloom.

I want to values others more and value my own time and expected schedule less. “The delight of embracing time rather than things is that we are free from the bondage of a schedule. Gifts can happen whenever they come, and we are not bound to certain times for certain experiences. Furthermore, if we freely give our time, we will harvest it in greater abundance.” (Marva Dawn, Keeping the Sabbath Wholly, p. 122)

I want my life to be an offering of hospitality greater than the most gourmet meal or the most beautiful model home!

After all, Jesus exemplifies a life of hospitality despite constant interruptions. “Jesus… lived with the clearest and highest purpose. Yet he veered and strayed from one interruption to the next, with no apparent plan in hand other than his single, overarching one: get to Jerusalem and die. Otherwise, his days, as far as we can figure, were a series of zigzags and detours, apparent whims and second thoughts, interruptions and delays, off-the-cuff plans, spur-of-the-moment decisions, leisurely meals, serendipitous rounds of storytelling.” (Mark Buchanan, The Rest of God, p. 78)

What about you? How do you handle interruptions? How is hospitality displayed in your life?

Proverbs 11:24 “The world of the generous gets larger and larger/ the world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller.” (Msg)

Perhaps we can see the difference between God’s true rest and our “rest” by considering the difference between the words recreation and amusement. Embedded in the word roots for recreation and amusement are vastly different concepts. Recreation is the state of being re-created. It is something we do or choose that fills our soul and body so that we are stronger and richer as a result. Recreation nurtures us. Amusement, on the other hand, literally means “not to think.” When we choose amusement we shut down, we disengage. Even more pointed is the ancient meaning of amusement: “to deceive.” Could it be that we are deceived when we think that the answer to our weariness is amusement, not recreation? Life is not meant to alternate spasmodically between exhausting frenetic activity and mindless states where we have no energy for anything. We must learn to say no to relentless schedules and cultivate places in our lives for true recreation. Only we can make choices for what refurbishes our souls and our relationships.

You think about that.

Excerpt from: Choosing Rest by Sally Breedlove, Pg. 142.

No, I didn’t stub my toe on it while walking past. And no insensitive message was carved into its surface. I cried because of what this table means to my soul. I sat staring in awe at our old, worn, chipping coffee table. Its underside has crayon scribbles from the children of its previous owner. Its surface is riddled with imperfections and dented from repeated placement and removal of coffee mugs, computers, piles of books, and the occasional board game.

But to me, this is the Holy of Holies. It is where I commune with Jesus.

I often sit at this unassuming table during quiet times. Today I am surrounded by the memories of piles of books and commentaries, of carefully underlined scripture passages. Today I hear iPod playlists and the clackity-clack of computer keys as I record what I’m learning.

I read. I write. I pray. I fall in love.

This is the place where I’ve fallen into the ocean of God’s sovereignty with Jonah. Where I’ve gleaned  truths about God’s providence with Ruth. Where I’ve learned to love the imperfect, and at times infuriating, church with Paul. And where the Lord meets quietly with me. It is my special, set apart, holy place. My temple. My altar. My Holy of Holies.

This is the place where I can write in my journal and express thankfulness and joy. It is where I can ask, “How long, O Lord?” and “Why have you forsaken me?” And it is where I wait for His answers. It is where I sit amazed that I can enter in to my very own Holy of Holies constantly, not just once a year. It is where I am reminded that Jesus constantly intercedes for me. It is where I am reminded of God’s constant pursuit of my heart.

This is my small, rough, chipped, wooden altar of blessing. It is the space where the sacred meets the ordinary.

My unassuming Holy of Holies.

I really stink at it. I detest feeling like I’ve let others down. I have to work myself up to near-frenzy to get the words out and I typically feel remorse about it afterward as if I’m single handedly crushing someone’s spirit through my negative reply. I struggle with this. It’s a constant battle for me not to overbook myself, feel totally overtaxed, and want to retreat from the world.

I was complaining to my mom about this feeling and she said something which totally blew my concept of saying “no” out of the water.

She quoted Ephesians 2:10 “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

Then she went on to exegete the passage saying, “Kelly, God prepared for you good works, specific good works, and you should walk in those working at them mightily. Other works may present opportunity, and they may appear good from the outside, but if they’re not the good works that God prepared for you specifically, then they won’t be good if you say yes.”

Mind blowing truth! What beautiful freedom!

If I say “no” to everything, I’m being disobedient by failing to walk in the good works God has prepared for me. If I say “yes” to everything, I’m not being a good steward of myself! By stretching myself too thin I’m failing to give enough energy, time, and attention to the specific works which have been chosen for me. But perhaps even more frightening than that is the fact that by saying “yes” to everything I could be inadvertently usurping a work meant for another and thereby denying him of the opportunity to walk in the good works prepared for him!

I’ve found myself praying my own version of the Serenity Prayer.

God grant me the serenity to say “no” to the works not prepared for me.
The courage to say “yes” to the works which are prepared for me.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.

[Before you ask, no, I did not hang the banner with these words on it in the SDA worship center. And no, I don't think this is what they meant, but I couldn't resist using the phraseology anyway! From now on when you glance above the projector screen, think of this post instead of being puzzled!]

I’ve been thinking more about the fact that it takes a village of committed, motivated, engaged people to get four of our own to a small, unassuming village in Kenya. Four get to be on the ground, doing the work, shaking hands and giving hugs, but they couldn’t do it without an army of supporters. Financial support, prayer support, administrative support, and family support.

This is an incredibly comforting thought! I was ecstatic to be a participant in the original conception of this summer’s trip. Through a series of adjustments, I found myself unable to participate in the Kenyan mission trip this summer. I was incredibly disappointed. Many tears were shed.

Solace was provided in the thought that I am participating in the trip this summer, just not in the way I originally planned.

Anchored Youth has been faithfully selling coffee for two years to raise money for Esther’s Well. We also planned and carried through the Sweetheart’s Banquet this spring to raise the remaining money needed for the well. Letters were written and edited to raise funds for four short-term missionaries to travel to the Mrema Village and dedicate a well overflowing with clean, potable water. Friends and families of the four radical-goers need support, rides, food, time to talk, and someone to pray with while they miss their loved ones.

African Tree

And I had an epiphany. I’ve been involved in every single one of those steps.

I don’t get to board a plane or experience the African soil. I don’t get to hug Esther. I don’t get to  see the well.

But I am a part of this trip.

And so are you.

You, as a part of Orlando Grace Church, are involved in global missions whether you like it or not! A substantial portion of our budget goes toward missions, so you’re involved in that way if you’ve ever given a dollar to OGC. Many years ago we adopted the Digo people and intend to love them for the long term. If you’ve attended any worship service you’ve been involved in praying for the Digo people. For their salvation, well-being, for them to love the newly translated Word, and, just as surely as their lips drink the clean well water, for their hearts to drink from the spiritual well that never runs dry.

Take joy in your part of the puzzle of missions. You may be assigned a behind the scenes role, without apparent appreciation or recognition, but that does not mean your part is less important to God.
Whether your role is goer or sender, do it with all your might.

After all, it takes a village… to get to a village.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love music! But somehow my musical training and prowess stalled when I was first chair in the recorder in fourth grade. I can carry a tune okay, but I don’t enjoy singing in front of others – at least not on my own. But if you put me in a group, surrounded by the voices of the congregation, I sing loudly and I sound phenomenal! Something beautiful happens when I match the pitch of the person next to me. I hear and feel the power of the masses. I am encouraged to breathe deeply and give the tune everything I’ve got.

The power of singing in unison drowns out my vocal imperfections and highlights the notes I get right.

This is the power of community.

And that’s a beautiful thing. And the good news is that the power of community doesn’t stop with just singing ability – it extends to all areas of life. I am more compassionate at my job, a fiercer friend, and more motivated in ministry when encouraged by my community than I ever could be on my own. Others understand where you are and how hard it is to sing at times. They can give you strength to sing even when it’s hard.

Each person’s life has a song. If you think of your life as an opus, full of different movements at different times in life, our songs won’t always sound the same, but they can all be beautiful. It doesn’t matter if your current tune sounds like a playful ditty or a mournful dirge – both can be sung worshipfully. And both are more powerful with others singing alongside you. Each life is an opus which must be crafted in community and fellowship.

The movie Mr. Holland’s Opus gives a helpful picture to think about life as a grand piece of music. Mr. Holland, a high school music teacher, who dreamed of fame and fortune, is given a gift upon his retirement. Many of his students over the previous four decades return to play a composition for their beloved teacher and mentor. One of his students, Gertrude Lang, whom Mr. Holland helped decades previously to “play the sunset” honors her mentor with the following speech:

“Mr. Holland had a profound influence on my life and on a lot of lives I know. But I have a feeling that he considers a great part of his own life misspent. Rumor had it he was always working on this symphony of his. And this was going to make him famous, rich, probably both. But Mr. Holland isn’t rich and he isn’t famous, at least not outside of our little town. So it might be easy for him to think himself a failure. But he would be wrong, because I think that he’s achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. Look around you. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched, and each of us is a better person because of you. We are your symphony Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus. We are the music of your life. “

We match each others’ tunes. We sing together. We live in community.

Jesus, help us to sing, no matter the tune, with all our might creating an opus of worship fit for the King!

Note: Special thanks to Tonya for leading devotionals at the Ladies Summer Fellowship this past week and planting the idea for this blog post in my head!

I woke up later than I’d planned, exhausted from a night of ministry and fellowship. I woke up defeated already, thinking of all the things that I should have already started – laundry could be in the washer, dinner could be in the crock pot. I could have replied to my numerous emails, planned out my day or at least have been awake enough to pray asking for strength to accomplish all I planned to complete this day. But instead, I lay supine, snuggled under the covers, fighting to keep out the light of morning and the senses of responsibility and duty that weigh so heavily on my soul.

I roll over protestingly as my snooze alarm blares for the fifth time. I let my eyes adjust to the light and something unexpected gleams outside my window… something that wasn’t there the night before. A beautifully intricate spider web hangs attached to trees just outside my bedroom window, swaying gently in the breeze.

From my safe place behind the glass, I observe the mini-architect as he stands proudly in the center of his creation surveying his masterpiece. A geometrically symmetric, intricate, delicate, shining masterpiece. Strong enough to last through gusts of wind yet dainty enough to go unnoticed by passersby.

And a thought dawned on me: I am not the only one at work.

I am not responsible for the continuation of the world. While I slumbered, blissfully unaware, this little eight-legged architect carried out his plan and surprised me with its presence and beauty in the morning. While I sleep, the world goes on, keeps spinning. It does not rely on me for continuation… so why do I often feel like it does? Why do I live as if the responsibility of the world rests on my shoulders? It’s quite arrogant when I stopped to think about it. As if my work, my contribution, my anxiety somehow affected the grand outcome, the master story.

God is at work both when I am asleep and awake. He calls me to obedience, He calls me to be a good steward of talents… but He doesn’t call me to feel responsible for the world, to never let myself rest, to wear myself thin. After all, as Henri Nouwen reminded me, “Burnout and depression are not signs that you are doing God’s will.” On the contrary, the world is designed and created with a natural rhythm of work and rest. It was designed that way since its inception by One who knew the importance of both work and rest.

And God saw fit to remind me of that through the work of a tine creator and his delicate, shimmering altar testifying that I am not the only one at work.

God is always at work… I can rest in that knowledge.

But Jesus answered them, “My Father is working until now, and I am working.”
John 5:17, ESV.

Moanings from a Fallow Field:

Dear Heavenly Farmer,

My nutrients have been spent. I’ve fed a family, clothed a village, provided for so many, given freely of all that is in me. I am tired. I am spent. Like Bilbo who could relate with this feeling when he said, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter, scraped over too much bread.”

But I am necessary for their well-being. How can I be expected to abide by your commandment to grow nothing for an entire year? How will they survive without my contributions, aide, expertise, and work? How can I ask for a break, even though I feel my energy growing thin?  I long to rest, to soak up the sun and the rain. I long to feel replenished, but I don’t know how. I’ve worked and provided for so long… it’s who I am. Will I still be valued if I don’t perform?

Somewhere inside of me I know that my nutrients are spent and that if I keep going I will only produce poor fruit, but the drive to produce, to perform, to do is so strong. I’ve done it for six years- I’ve been tilled, sown, and harvested. I’ve faithfully produced year after year. It is a paradigm shift to think of myself as valuable not for what I can do, but for who I am. I am valuable not first and foremost for what I can contribute, but for who I am. I am your field, Father. You call me to work and to rest. Help me to actively rest in this year of fallowness, not just to passively loaf. Help me to seek replenishment. Let my soil be filled to overflowing with nutrients not just for my own health, but so that I can provide again in the future. I am lying fallow in order to produce more fruit.

Learning the Importance of Lying Fallow,
Your Faithful Field

“Only when your roots are deep can your fruits be abundant.” Henri Nouwen

Nine months in the making, this is the closest thing I’ve experienced to compare with bearing a child. I’ve experienced months of preparation, sleepless nights, food cravings, and pain as I prepared to “birth” this study. Okay – so maybe the food cravings are unrelated, but still, it’s been a long time coming. Like a proud parent I’m ready to share my little bundle of joy with others – to hear them “ooh” an “ahh” over him.

Writing is both easier and harder than I ever expected. I often feel like Jeremiah when he said, “There is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9b) I have words, ideas, and thoughts bursting out of me –  so I write. Writing for me is both a form of therapy and of art. It helps me to process and give definition to ideas floating around in my heart and it allows me to paint pictures with keystrokes to be shared with others.

In other ways writing is wearisome because it not only seems to consume all my spare time, but it puts my heart on display in a way nothing else can. You’ve read some of my stories – not all of them are shining moments and it takes courage to display my flaws in order to elevate the beauty of God’s grace. I also have a totally new respect for the editing process.  I think more often than not when I tell people I’m editing a Bible study they think I just run spellcheck and am done with it. They don’t realize that it involves taking apart the entire study, putting it in a blender set to frappe and then piecing it back together word by word. Editing is painful. I could not have made it through the grueling months of editing without the constant support, prayer, and love of my Editor/Cheerleader extraordinaire, Abby Gjertsen. Writing (and editing!) Bible studies is truly a labor of love.

But now we get to enjoy it! I love hearing other people’s observations, opinions, and insights as we discuss and work through the material together. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve studied and how many commentaries I’ve read, there’s always more to be gleaned from Scripture. So thank you for being so encouraging, for sharing your hearts, and for taking this journey with me.

I’m happy to be finished with Jonah. To hold the tangible evidence of all my work is a beautiful thing. I’m currently fist pumping and high-fiving everyone I see! But at the same time I’ll miss it. I’ll miss my weekly three-hour long Skype conversations with Abby to perfect the study. I’ll miss sitting cross-legged underneath my coffee table surrounded by dozens of commentaries. I’ll miss writing introductions for each week and putting on display the best (and the worst!) of me. I’ll miss spending gobs of time with Jonah; he has become a friend of mine.

But the good news is that the study doesn’t have to end here. Before you start hyperventilating that there’s another week of homework hiding somewhere behind the works cited page, what I mean is that it’s now our responsibility to take what God has taught us about ourselves, each other, and the world through the book of Jonah and put it into practice. How will you find ways to celebrate God’s sovereignty? How will you live a life characterized by love, repentance, and obedience with a pure heart and right motives? How will you align your heart with God’s heart to spread the good news to all nations? These are the take aways from this study. Like I said at the beginning, I don’t much care if you can diagram a beautiful chiasm of the book of Jonah if it doesn’t change your heart. So, Beloved, let Jonah’s story change you. Be different because of your time spent in a little book, written hundreds of years ago, about a bumbling, pouting prophet and his merciful, compassionate God.

Rejoicing that Salvation Belongs to the LORD,
Kelly Simpson