Megan and I were inspired from a book we read called Safely Home by Randy Alcorn to set aside a chair in our tiny, one-room home as the place where Jesus sits. In the story of a poor Chinese Christian family, who, among tattered, meager furnishings, kept an elaborate chair. It was relatively royal for their humble home, and it was where "Jesus sat" as a physical reminder of His presence in their lives.

Our options were either a rolling desk chair, piano stool, or a comfy, antique armchair nestled in the "reading corner" of our room. We chose the armchair. This seat is anything but royal. It's fabric is browned and torn, the wood is scraped and worn, and the springs are falling out the bottom. But, it is the best, most comfy seat in the house. So, we agreed it would be where Jesus sits.

I must admit that there are many times when the occupation of that seat is troublesome. Like when I want to read a book or need a place to set my stuff, or the laundry, or the blankets as I'm making the bed. And then there are times when I just really want to sit there.

Instead, every once in a while I sit on the floor at the foot of the chair and I talk to Jesus. I look at the chair and imagine Him sitting there. I think of His scars. I think of who He is and what He did and how much He loves me. I allow my mind to be blown away by who Jesus really is, who I really am, what was and what is and what will be.

I will confess that I don't sit at His feet very often. Most of the time I ignore the armchair altogether. I wish I could make Him a chair deserving of a king! He created angels with the sole purpose of giving Him glory 24-7. Yet I can go a week without acknowledging Him in that chair.

Really, that armchair is a representation of the seat of my heart that He sits on, which is ragged a lot like that armchair. Though His ultimate throne is in Heaven at the right hand of the Father-- a seat deserving of a king-- He loves me more than enough to sit in my ragged armchair.

I am so grateful for the wise woman known as Grammy Doris. I've never met a more nurturing caregiver who on multiple occasions every month cooks a delicious Sunday afternoon meal for her family. Because I lived with her, I was adopted in as part of that family. But the sweetest thing is that even now after getting married and moving out, she still considers Megan and I as part of her family. So no matter what, we are usually invited to Sunday lunch.

Even today, when she was making a huge meal for two families of six, special friends who had come into town, and some other adopted couples like ourselves, we were welcome. I am very grateful because Megan and I are living in a season of no money and sometimes we don't know what to do for food. Grammy's only request was that we sit with the children in the living room because she doesn't have a big enough table. I had no problem with that if it meant I could eat a delicious lunch. I thought it was so funny when it was time for the children, and us, to get our food. It was all on the kitchen stove and we lined up. She had trays for us with napkins and silverware. It was just like a cafeteria or soup kitchen. It felt surreal. It made me so grateful for Grammy Doris. And I remember how amazing she is. I've never met anyone who would do all this for others. This blog is a special thanks to Grammy Doris. A woman who is characterized by her wisdom, fortitude, and lavish love... among many other things.

P.S. I am often tempted to take Grammy with us to a mission field far off where there are hurting, starving children and just let Grammy go to town on them. How many transformed lives would she leave in her wake? How many transformed lives has she already left in her wake? Amen!

Today started for me as a normal day off. I slept in and made a yummy breakfast (scrambled eggs topped with shredded cheese, spinach sauteed in salsa and olive oil, and toast with butter). It was only after my wife declared that this would be a sabbath day for her, and she didn't want to do anything, that I started to unravel. I couldn't help but get a little nauseous at her declaration because nothing sounds more intimidating, more depressing, more boring than a day spent doing nada. This hasn't been the first time I've come up against a day like this. Yes, I have encountered many and reacted much the same, with dread. It's kind of "old hat"-the kind of hat that doesn't match anything else, it's ugly, but your so used to wearing it and you don't have another one to wear.

It's on these occasions, like today, that I come unraveled and can't seem to get myself back together. Megan was looking forward to getting some serious reading done. As a matter of fact, she hasn't stopped reading all day except to eat or use the bathroom. Though I have made huge strides in becoming a reader (I have read more in the past year of my life than in all other years combined-not including textbooks), I am definitely not at her level. So, reading was not going to happen for me today. I was read out. But then what would I do?

It is when I have nothing to do that the whole army of Woe's inside my mind ambushes! The commander of this army is Loneliness and second in command, Insignificance. Their plan of attack; to destroy all motivation allowing for total takeover. After this happens, hope is all but lost. Any suggestion or idea or encouragement from my lovely wife of the many things I am blessed to be able to do today, fall on deaf ears. No, I hear them, but the attacker is holding my right-mind captive and I am uninterested in anything and everything. I sabotage myself. I convince myself that I don't want to be around anyone, or do anything. All this happens in a matter of minutes.

After a lifetime of living with this cycle I have gotten better. For example I can actually understand what's going on and why I feel the way I do, and I can write it out. That's big enough. But I have also learned to counter attack, though I am still not very good at it. I tried to remind myself that 75% of the world doesn't have the luxury of not doing anything for a whole day yet still being able to eat and relax in a comfy, safe bedroom that is all their own. I even tried to climb back into bed and "wake up" all over again to shake this attitude, this army that had overtaken me.

It didn't work. Today I am weak. I had a choice. There was a way out. But I didn't take it. Instead I sat back on the bed, lay my head on the pillow, closed my eyes, and surrendered with false comfort to a cloaked enemy. Sleep.

It didn't take me long after waking to realize the error of my ways. I should have..., I need to remember to..., I must be better prepared for next time. Megan and I went for a bite. The beautiful weather outside reminded me of what I had missed. After Megan expressed her concern that I wasn't myself and she could tell, we came back to the room and she continued to read.

Here I was again with a decision. I had ruined it once today, but I didn't have to ruin it again.

So, I read. I read Red, by Ted Dekker. It's a trilogy that Megan and I are reading and listening through (listening because we have the audio books, too). It is about a great fight. The fight between good an evil, in worlds, in people, in hearts, and in minds. It's about survival. It's about true life, in the deepest sense of the word. Right now I feel like one of the warriors screaming, "Elyon, give me strength!" Yet their struggle doesn't seem to subside. Sometimes it gets worse. But, I am only halfway through the second book.

This afternoon reading didn't last very long for me, but somehow I found my way to this blog. Somehow it has gotten me through at least an hour, maybe two. This has been good for me. I hope to get better at Sabbaths. The least I could do is practice it like the Jews do Shabbat.

And I could always blog.

Some very exciting news...

Joshua and I (and Shell-Bell!) were hired on at the Biltmore Estate to work in the vineyards as harvest workers. We start on Monday, bright and early at 7:00 a.m., picking grapes. We are all ridiculously excited about this endeavor, while most people out of their twenties look at us with something akin to horrified bemusement.

I am most excited because I will get to meet a lot of internationals, which is right up my alley. Introduce me to someone from another country and I can ask them questions until the cows come home.

This weekend is a women's retreat at Highland and I am co-leading a group, which I am kind of nervous about, if only for the fact that I suck at small talk. But I trust that God has his hand on it all, and he'll help me out.

Anyways, short update, but had to let you all know... the grapes have ripened and off we go!