A Considerable Tent

To celebrate my two-year anniversary at A Considerable Speck,
I purchased this lovely original artwork for the empty space above my piano.
(Check out Willowgrass Designs on Etsy.com.)

Two years.  That's how long a young man serves a full-time mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It's also how long I've been living at my current apartment, A Considerable Speck.  This is the longest I've stayed in one residence, since leaving my folks' ten years ago.  I have called this little duplex "home" for over a third of the time I've been in Utah.  Some day I would like to move to a bigger place, capable of hosting groups more comfortably.  But for now this is home, as much as a manmade building can be.  I am here for something far more permanent than a two-year mission.

And so I find myself living a delicate balance: purposefully sticking around, putting roots down, building relationships, investing in long-term ministry here in Utah Valley; yet being careful not to grow too comfortable in a place whose very existence is a fractioned heartbeat relative to eternity.  For all the grandeur and rugged strength of these mountains outside my window, they will pass away at God's appointed time.  Meanwhile, I seek an Abrahamic perspective:

By faith he lived as an alien in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, dwelling in tents [...] for he was looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  (Hebrews 11:9-10)

A Considerable Speck, therefore, is just a "tent": a temporary residence on my way to heaven.

That said, I'm tickled that this tent comes with a carport and programmable thermostat.

Remind Me Who I Am

Who are you?

I am:
Daughter, sister, aunt, friend.
Public relations director, optician, Bible teacher.
Single.
Missionary.
Bible college grad.
Lip balm addict.

Sinner.

Selfish.
Phony, hypocrite.
Lazy.
Jealous, lonely.
Shallow, judgmental, ignorant.
Misunderstood.
Wounded.

But.
My identity is not wrapped up in my family or my vocation.
I am not simply the sum total of my personality and experiences.
I am not confined by the perceptions of others'.
I am not defined by my choices and successes.
Nor am I captive to my disadvantages and failures.

Sometimes I just need to be reminded who I really am:

Forgiven,
Beloved,
Hidden in Christ,
Made in the image of the Giver of life.
Righteous and holy,
Reborn and remade,
Accepted and worthy:
This is [my] new name.
I am new.

Thank you, Jason Gray.



It is worth noting that Jason does not address the question of identity merely from an academic standpoint.  He knows whereof he speaks: Jason has a speech impediment.  What would normally be considered a severe handicap to a career vocalist, has become an evidence of God's grace and an agent of inspiration.  It serves as a constant reminder that, for the Christ-follower, identity is not determined by Self, but by Christ Himself.

I'm the one You love,
I'm the one You love;
That will be enough.



"I will call those who were not My people, 'My people,'
and her who was not beloved, 'Beloved.'
And it shall be that in the place where it was said to them,
'You are not my people,'
there they shall be called sons of the living God." (Romans 9:26-27)

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.  Now all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ...  (2 Cor. 5:16-17 NASB)

Who are you?

Snow in June and Other Utah Humdingers

Lydia and I, hiking on the east side of Mt. Timpanogos.

There is something about yards-deep snow on a 90-degree day that I can't quite comprehend.  Shouldn't it be—oh, I don't know—melting or something?

I know this winter's was a record-breaking snowfall.  I know the eastern slopes of mountains don't get as much sun exposure.  And I know the snow is melting, but the runoff occurs under the snowpack and out of sight.

Add up all the facts—and still! wading through snow in shorts does not compute in this prairie-raised brain.  It's a humdinger to Midwestern me, but a matter of routine in Utah.  Like fry sauce.  And billboards advertising modest clothing.  And church steeples every few blocks, all void of a cross.  Many Utah anomalies I gladly adapt to.  Some: I pray I never do.

Walking for Life

I love babies.  I love life.  I love the God Who creates life.  That's why I support the Pregnancy Resource Center of Utah Valley.  They provide free services for those unprepared for pregnancy and those traumatized by abortion.  Yes, even in squeaky-clean Provo, Utah, there are many people dealing with these complex issues.  That's why I'll be participating in the June 4 Walk for Life, benefiting the PRC.  Would you consider helping me reach my $200 goal?  Click here.

Victory in Jesus

You have crushed beneath your heel the vile serpent, ¹

You have carried to the grave the black stain; ²

You have torn apart the temple's holy curtain, ³

You have beaten death at death's own game. ⁴

- From "Hosanna" by Andrew Peterson

¹ And I will put enmity between thee [the serpent] and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.  Genesis 3:15

² ...Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures...  I Corinthians 15:3-4

³ Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.  And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent...  Matthew 27:50-51

⁴ ...Death is swallowed up in victory.  I Corinthians 15:54

Near the Cross

O sacred Head, now wounded,

With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded,
With thorns Thine only crown.
How pale Thou art with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish
Which once was bright as morn!

Don't old English words like "sore abuse" and "visage languish" seem more apt to describe the grisly, stomach-turning crucifixion of Christ than the casual American English of 2011?  

The stanza above is part of the standard translation of a 12th-century hymn originally written in Latin.  A few days ago, I listened to Chuck Swindoll read these words—part of a special series of Easter-themed messages on KEY Radio.  He then made an observation to the effect that nobody is writing hymn texts like that nowadays.

It's not just the quaint vocabulary he was referring to; rather, I think his point was that we as the modern-day Church have generally settled into a religion of comfort, and we hesitate to dwell on our Savior's suffering.  It is simply too uncomfortable to think about anyone—much less God!—whose flesh was torn, whose nakedness was exposed, whose bones were broken without either anesthesia or pity.  Indeed, we embrace what the Cross purchased for us (reconciliation with a holy God) without understanding the enormity of the cost paid physically by Christ.

Dr. Swindoll's remarks got me thinking, as they often do.  Is it true that songs about Jesus' suffering and humiliation are not being written by my generation of believers?  Of course, I cannot speak authoritatively; I can only make the unscientific observations of a music-lover and occasional radio deejay.  But sadly, I must agree there is a void of songwriting here.

Building a playlist for KEY that afternoon, however, I found a few notable exceptions to what I fear is the rule.  "Blessed Redeemer," by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms does not shy away  from Christ's pain: "I see him on Calvary's tree, wounded and bleeding..."  Nor did Chad Cates, Todd Smith, and Tony Wood sugarcoat the crucifixion when writing, "Beautiful Terrible Cross."  (An aside: hymn-lovers will notice the Selah version of this song incorporating musical phrases of the old Fanny Crosby hymn "Near the Cross"—subtly paying tribute to the generation- and culture-spanning power of Jesus' death.)

One more thought: balance.  We should meditate on both the Cross and what it accomplished.  Contemplating Christ's agony does little good when I don't apply its ramifications to my life.  Because Jesus willingly died on the cross (and rose again! that's a whole other post), I have victory over sin, Satan and death!  What is more worthy of song?

And so I share with you these few songs about different aspects of the Cross.  As they have done for me, may they help you to "fix your eyes on Jesus... who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself" (Hebrews 12).


(Please forgive the commercial inserted before the final song.  "Free salvation" means no strings attached; not so with "free music player.")

Keeping Missions In Front(ier)

One of my 2011 ministry goals was to post twice a month on my blog.  Ha.  That's me: ever the optimist.  But there is still three hours left in February, if you're in Mountain time like I—and if you're not, you really should consider moving west and adding another hour to your life—so I'll rustle up a post.  It is simply a short but hearty endorsement of this:

I had the privilege of being at Frontier School of the Bible for six days this month, participating in a missions conference.  I say "a" missions conference, not "the" missions conference, because Frontier has three every school year.  Three, for crying out loud.  And here I thought the "missions conference" was an endangered animal.  But there it was: six days of special speakers and workshops and dinners and presentations and displays, all with the purpose of exposing students to opportunities of participating in Christ's Great Commission.

As if that weren't enough, I was also impressed with the warmth of the student body, the friendliness of the faculty and staff, the homemade goodness of the food, and the pleasantness of the facilities and setting.  And did I mention the food?

Frontier School of the Bible is located in rural southeastern Wyoming.  Affordable, concentrated study of God's Word and preparation for ministry.  Check it out here.

"She's Away and Westward Bound"

They say the best songs are borne of experience.  If that's true, singer/songwriter Gordon Lightfoot must have had his share of travel woes and adventures.

I picked up a compilation cassette of Lightfoot's music at Goodwill while I was home for Christmas.  Little did I know how it would prove to be the soundtrack of my trip back to Utah.

The journey began uneventfully enough at the Great Bend, Kansas airport.  (Airport is used only in the strictest sense here.  The terminal is a small, one-room brick building with a single glass door that opens to the tarmac.)  My folks sent me off with hugs, last-minute parental advice, and a small roll of cash slipped into my hand.  Pro that I am, leaving home is never easy.

But the mountains [...] are calling out to me,

And I got my bedroll on my back

And everything that I could pack to see me on my way...

Four of us passengers boarded the 19-seater; since there was no flight attendant, the co-captain—who looked barely old enough to shave—checked our seat belts and gave the flotation device shpeel.  Then takeoff.  It's a small thing in the grand scheme, but I thanked my Father for a clear day to fly over farmlands; there are few things as beautiful to my eyes as the rural Midwest viewed from 39,000 feet.

And the prairie towns go sailing by...

A quick stop in Dodge City yielded one more passenger; then it was on to Denver.  Though it was a crisp, sunny day when we took off, the sky clouded as we flew west.  By the time we landed in Colorado, it was a regular blizzard.  But, so far so good.

All is well.

I left the cold midwestern towns behind...

My next flight to Salt Lake City was scheduled to leave in 1.5 hours.  Winter weather, however, would dictate otherwise.  Along with thousands of other passengers, my layover became what I call a delayover.

This old airport's got me down, it's no earthly use to me
Cause I'm stuck here on the ground, cold [...] as I can be...

My flight was pushed back several times until the boarding call sounded about two hours behind schedule.  I called home; Mom answered and I let her know I wouldn't be calling when I arrive in Provo since it is already late.

Does your mother know, you had to go someday?

Just tell her [...] That you've got ten dollars and you'll be all right,

And when you get straight you're gonna come back east some day...

But the waiting wasn't over.  First, we sat in line to deice the plane.  It was dark now, with snow blowing under the lights and a chill creeping into the cabin.

Out on runway number nine, big 707 set to go, 

But I'm stuck here on the ground where the cold winds blow...

About the time I should have been pulling into my driveway in Utah, we finally took off from Denver.

Hear the mighty engines roar, see the silver bird on high;

She's away and westward bound, high above the clouds she'll fly...

It was a late but safe landing in wintery Salt Lake City.  Five inches of snow and ice had to be cleared off my car.  That was easy compared to the task of getting inside it.  The doors were frozen shut.  After much prying, yanking, pleading, huffing and puffing, I got the driver's door open and crawled in.  Only now the door wouldn't close; the latch was frozen in place.

I have had to hold my door closed as I've driven to work on a cold morning once or twice, but driving 50 minutes on the interstate is entirely different.  My door must latch.  The parking lot attendants only offered a sympathetic shake of the head and pointed me to a truck stop.  Once there, I pulled out some tools and a flashlight and attempted surgery with numb fingers.  Where was my capable-of-anything dad when I needed him?

I'm a long way from home

And I miss my loved ones so...

Ten minutes later, with no success, I admitted what I was: a Helpless Female.  I went inside the truck stop to look for a hero.  The girl behind the counter called over Hector, a young man whose wide smile I soon realized meant, "I am not an English-speaker and I would love to help but I have no idea what you're saying."  Still, he seemed to recognize a Helpless Female when he saw one.

And the service station man agreed I didn't look too well...

Hector followed me out, and by gestures I made him understand what the problem was.  He motioned for me to get in the car and then he slammed the door.  It latched!  At last I headed south to Provo and my warm bed.

All is well.

The foothills are coming into sight.

Today is just a memory, the future is tonight.

And the red pines will bow their heads,

The rivers and the watersheds will carry us along,

And the mountains [...] will greet me there as only [they] can do.

All is well.

Excerpts from songs by the great Gordon Lightfoot: Early Morning Rain, Mountains and Maryann, Does Your Mother Know.

The Light of the Whole World

Stand amazed, ye heavens!

See th'Eternal Son of GOD

A Mortal Son of Man,

Dwelling in an Earthly Clod

Whom Heaven cannot contain!

Stand amaz'd ye Heavens at This!

See the LORD of Earth and Skies

Humbled to the Dust He is,

And in a Manger lies!

-- Charles Wesley

Thanksgiving

Of all the things I am thankful for, spiritual blessings rank highest.  I used to be "dead in my trespasses and sins," according to God.  But now check out what Ephesians says is mine in Christ.  And this is just a sampling.  Wow.

www.Tagxedo.com

All this can be yours, too.
And the best is yet to be.  Amen, come Lord Jesus!

Oh, Sweet Construction-Free Peace!

The interstate is just a couple stone's throw from A Considerable Speck, and it's undergoing a massive revamp: four more lanes, all new interchanges, etc.  It will be oh-so-wonderful when it's finished.  But for the next 18 months or so: delays, detours, dust—and noise.  (My alliteration skills fail me.)

And so this song by Nicky Mehta came to mind the other night as I lay awake, trying not to listen to the grating sounds of highway construction.  (Pun intended.)

Oh, sweet peace, never have you fallen upon this town...

I cannot rest... at least until the darkness is quiet for a while.

How convenient that my friend (at least in the world of Facebook), Don Shorock, taped the winsome trio The Wailin' Jennys performing the song.  I attended this beautiful concert, so if you hear an earnest though slightly off-key alto on the sing-along chorus—well, I'll let you put two and two together.

Peace or no peace, my home is in heaven anyway.  Jesus said He's preparing a place for me before I get there, so there'll be no construction hubbub on those streets of gold once I arrive, thank you very much.  I've been keeping a mental list, and I think "No Construction" makes Reason #1,742 that I am glad to be glory bound.  Amen?

Labor Day? Never again.

The gospel encourages me to rest in my righteous standing with God, a standing which Christ Himself has accomplished and always maintains for me.*

I never have to do a moment's labor to gain or maintain my justified status before God!**

Freed from the burden of such a task, I now can put my energies into enjoying God, pursuing holiness, and ministering God's amazing grace to others.


* Romans 5:1-2  Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God.
** I John 2:1-2  ...And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He Himself is the propitiation for our sins...


—A Gospel Primer For Christians, Milton Vincent

What a Spectacle

I have been told I have my father's eyes.  Thanks to the (somewhat absurd) American fashion cycle, I can now have my father's glasses, too.

A Considerable Speck

This past week marked exactly one year since I moved into my Provo duplex.  To celebrate, here are a few photos of my home, affectionately called A Considerable Speck (a nod to Robert Frost's poem).  This little place is a "good and perfect gift from the Father of Heavenly Lights."  Come on a virtual tour of the first floor.  (And then come for a real honest-to-goodness visit!)

My cozy kitchen, where many a box of Mac and Cheese meets its demise.  Laundry niche behind the red curtain.

The patio window looks out to a small private patio and lawn.  And beyond those, an unkempt lot with an apple tree, several cats and an abandoned car or two—reminds me of West Virginia for some reason.

Robert Plant hanging out with some wall decs I designed in the background.   (Anyone who achieves the otherworldly experience of singing harmony with Alison Krauss deserves to have a florum named after him, I think.)

More plants that have somehow survived my "care" and also escaped my propensity for naming inanimate objects. Also notice the thrift store vinyl jackets which make very cost-effective decs.  Move over, Martha Stewart.

I'm a firm believer that pillows make a room.  I haven't found Scriptural backing for this yet, but it's gotta be in there somewhere.

A close-up of my new curtains.  Is it just me or does the design look Tolkien-ish?  I could see this flower gently waving in the warm breezes that blow through Rivendell...

I am quite fond of my piano, odd-ball knob or no.  Before it came to A Considerable Speck, it belonged successively to three dear friends, believers here in Utah.  My heart warms to think of the many hymns played and sung around it.  And that picture on the right gets more compliments than anything else I have, making it fully worth the one buck I spent on it at a dollar store in Beckley, West Virginia.  Score.  I do love a good road picture/song/poem.

Any P.D.Q. Bach fans out there?  This "Black Forest Bluegrass"
album cover tickles my funny bone.  As P.D.Q. himself would say: "It's got that certain je ne sais quoi."

I found these fantastic book ends at a yard sale a few weeks ago.  This one's name is Gog and the other's is Magog, a nod to L.M. Montgomery's Anne of the Island.  Sometimes we bookish sorts overdo it on the "nods".
.

A Picture Is Worth Four Posts

It took me four posts to document my travel saga but it took artist Christoph Niemann just a few doodles for his.  If you have flown much, you will certainly identify, and laugh at the accuracy of his clever drawings.  See them here.  My personal favorite is the 9:57am "poppyseed" entry.  That's me times 10, thanks to these braces, which, since you asked, will be coming off in November and then bring on the poppyseed, sister!

Grace to You

Grace.  It was my grandma's name.  It's what my name means.  It has been the subject of I-don't-know-how-many sermons, lectures and songs I've heard over the years, growing up in the church and attending Bible college.  Even so, when it comes to understanding God's grace for me, I've just begun to scratch the surface.  I have settled all too often for a shallow, defeated, quasi-Christianity instead of embracing the fullness of His grace.  Thanks to Pastor Milton Vincent for bringing this deficiency to my attention in a most thoughtful and heartfelt manner, during the recent Utah/Idaho BMW (Biblical Ministries Worldwide) Field Retreat.  And thanks to Laura Story for writing and recording this sincere, reflective song—which I've found myself adding to just about every playlist I've built for KEYY since the Retreat.  Her song solidifies in my mind and heart much of what Pastor Milton spoke of, and I hope it rings true for you, too.



Good stuff, huh?

Will you let me do something for you?  I want to purchase an mp3 and send it to you, so you can listen to Laura Story's "Grace" whenever you need a reminder of the incredible riches of God's grace for you.  Just get me your email address somehow, if I don't already have it, and I'll "gift" the song to you on iTunes.  Leave a comment, or go the more secure route and email me (k c l a r k 3 4 @ y a h o o . c o m).

Farewell

Farewell to my pickle-eating, bike-riding, piano-playing, deep-thinking, often-laughing, imaginatively-cooking roomie, Becca.  It's been a great summer.

Good, Better, Best: Three Reviews of New Media

I am a sucker for tear-jerker storybook animals like Lassie and Black Beauty and Misty of Chincoteague.  Therefore, I was disappointed when Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog and the Woman She Rescued did not quite turn out to be the moving pet story I thought it would be.  Mostly, it's the true story of a young woman emerging from a destructive past and slowly realizing what following Christ is all about.  The neglected Australian shepherd Laurie adopts aids her in learning authenticity, trust, joy and hope.  I found the writing style distracting, as needless dialogue and awkward narrative make the story seem a bit forced.  I ended up skim-reading parts.  Still, there are nuggets of truth and heartwarming anecdotes any dog-lover will enjoy.  And yes, I did cry when the dog died.  Except she didn't die.  Oh, you'll just have to read it yourself to know what I mean.  Keep reading to learn how to get a free copy.  (This book was provided for review by the WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.  You can purchase it here.)

I'm fairly certain Phil Vischer, of VeggieTales fame, has more creativity in his pinky toe than the rest of us 7 billion inhabitants of Earth possess collectively.  Don't you love it when someone with a God-given talent uses it to build up the kingdom?  That's reason number one why I was excited to hear of the release of Phil's "What's In the Bible?" DVD series in March.  The other reason: we've got heaps of bibliology-illiterate folks sitting in our churches these days.  Many Christians aren't prepared to intelligently defend their faith and the Book on which their faith is (or should be) founded.  I have a hunch that's partly because when they (we) were kids, they learned Bible stories without really learning the Bible.  What is the Bible?  How did we get it?  Why is it organized the way it is?  Is it meant to be taken literally?  What does the word "bible" even mean, for goodness' sake?  These are some of the questions Phil Vischer sets out to answer for kids, using a delightful cast of puppets, catchy songs, high-quality production, and lots of humor.  I love, love, love the concept.  After hearing glowing reviews, I purchased the first (of three, so far) DVD ($14.99), including two 25-minute episodes: "What Is the Bible?" and "Who Wrote the Bible?"  I laughed and learned and I tapped my toes to the music.  Yes, I would love to add my glowing review to the rest.  However, some unsatisfactory tiptoeing around controversial issues gives me serious reservations.  The most disturbing is how the narrative of creation in Genesis chapter 1 is left open to interpretation.  According to Phil, it's a matter of opinion whether or not God created the world in six literal, 24-hour days.  He even invokes the worn-out and illogical argument: "with the Lord a day is like a thousand years" (2 Peter 3:8).  (For an excellent 2-minute rebuttal, listen to this.)  Alas, if only there were some way to edit out these moments of wishy-washy theology, I would heartily endorse "What's In the Bible?" DVDs.

And now we come to a product I can endorse, yea even urge you to purchase.   In fact, it deserves a post all its own.  It deserves a blog all its own.  Shoot, it deserves an internet all its own.  It is "Counting Stars", singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson's July 27 release.  I am still digesting these 13 songs of a Christ-follower's struggle and peace, longing and fulfillment, transgression and redemption.  Andrew's music always moves me deeply and this is perhaps his most intimate collection yet.  Give me a little more time to absorb.  For now, I'll simply quote Jonathan Rogers: "These songs aren’t safe. They hunker down and wrestle around, and they come up limping. The hope they express is hard-won."  Hard-won hope; authentic, unshakeable hope: that's the album in a nutshell.  You will not regret purchasing it.


Thanks to the good folks at WaterBrook Multnomah, I have a free copy of Blind Hope to give away.  For your chance to win, leave a comment recommending a book/movie/album you've recently read/watched/heard.

Chuckles: A Fable

Chuckles the Chocolate Lab knows that the sun's UV (ultraviolet) radiation has been linked to:

1.  Cataracts, a clouding of the eye's lens, eventually necessitating surgical removal,
2.  Cancer in the delicate skin around the eyes (melanoma),
3.  Macular degeneration (according to some studies), resulting in loss of vision in the center of the visual field,
... and several other types of eye damage.

So Chuckles doesn't leave home without his sunglasses, especially in the summer.  When he purchased them, he made sure the lenses block 100% UVA/UVB.  He was savvy enough to decline sunglasses with plastic lenses, even though they were tinted very dark; he knows it's the glass and polycarbonate lenses that protect his eyes.  Furthermore, Chuckles was careful to select a pair with large, close-fitting lenses—and not just because they're fashionable.  He realizes UV radiation poses a hazard to his eyes.

Chuckles knows it's no laughing matter.

(This thinly-veiled admonition brought to you by your friendly virtual optician.)