Trophies of Grace

When I was younger, I tended to think of Paul with a sort of saintly glow.  He wrote half the books in the New Testament, he preached powerful sermons, he traveled all over planting churches and discipling leaders.

And then there's Peter.  Such a pathetically perfect specimen of humanity.  Quick to speak (without thinking, often!), confident and cowardly, up and down, back and forth, mistakes in full view.  I always figured most of us could relate more to him than to Paul, the Great Apostle.

Until I realized they were on an equal plane: trophies on the shelf of grace.

Both of them talk a lot about grace, and as I thought back over their stories, I realized why it was so precious to them.  Why they wanted their readers to grasp its impact.

So Peter – we all know his story.  The denial.  The redeeming.  The second chance.  When you've messed up so very badly (after becoming a follower of Jesus, no less!) and then experienced the fullness of God's forgiveness, it only makes sense.  You're going to want to others to grow in grace, too.

But Paul?  What makes him so passionate about grace?  I mean, he was a good guy.  A religious, educated, cultured guy.  Respected.  You don't get the impression that he was always getting himself into trouble and needing second chances.

Or…did he?

His life before Acts 8 was full of practiced "goodness" and spiritual zeal.  Like a plowed field of orderly rows – and an insidious weed hiding throughout.

Self-righteousness.

Grace and self-righteousness are mutually exclusive.  Hold onto your own righteousness, your own goodness, your own efforts, and you ignore grace.  Or misunderstand it.  Or think grace is just for the Peters and the tax collectors and the thieves on crosses.

And then, when Jesus shatters that self-righteous shell and you're blinded by grace that says He's done it all and you don't need to – can't – do anything to gain His love…

When you look back over the years spent striving to be good, thinking you were somehow getting closer to Him…

When you realize how that very trying was actually a wall that kept you from being close to Him…

When you experience a true freedom you'd never had before…

When in spite of years wasted – partially by choice, partially by ignorance – you get a second chance…

…You can't possibly keep it to yourself.  It's too big, too wonderful, too amazing.

So Paul, a trophy of grace, wrote.

And I write.

I'm on that same shelf, after all.

Critter Discovery

Weevils.

For whatever reason, they're a lot less disgusting to me than cockroaches.

Not that I was happy to see them.

Not that I was going to invite them to continue boring holes through my popcorn kernels.

Not that I thought they were cute.

But still.  Better than cockroaches.

Dear _____,

Produce vendor who said he thought I was the lady on the Air France billboard just down the street [to be featured in another post]...  Wow.  No.  Most definitely not!

Pesto cheese bread...  Not quite the same as when we make it at home, but still tasty.  I suppose it's just as well that you didn't turn out addictively delicious (like at home).

French ad...  I do not approve of the word "selfie" in English, and I'm no fonder of it being borrowed by other languages.  (Sorry to sound snobby, but I really dislike that word.)

Roasted butternut squash...  I love you.  Sure, you have endless potential for both sweet and savory creations, but what I like best is how perfectly delicious you are with no embellishments whatsoever.  Just roasted and eaten directly from the skin.

Little girl making mud sand cakes by the side of the road...  How's that working out for you?  It doesn't seem like sand would hold together very well.

Duck-flavored ramen noodles...  I can't say that you tasted much like duck.  (Yes, I have had the real thing before.)  You tasted like garlic.  And chili pepper.  And the strangest hint of…not quite cinnamon…but some other warm spice.

Phone...  You say "memory full", right when I'm in the middle of recording something in a session.  How do you think my brain feels, hm?  And you call yourself a smartphone…

Meteorite showers...  I'm so glad you're a several-times-a-year kind of thing.  Hopefully next time I'll be able to see more.  (Last week I didn't get much of a show at all.  Too many lights on in the neighborhood.)

Anne-with-an-e Shirley...  I feel that you and I (or at least my younger self) would have certainly been kindred spirits.  It's a royal shame I lived twenty-three years before making your acquaintance.

Nail polish remover...  Goodness, you kill cockroaches even faster than the cockroach spray.  Makes me wonder if I should be putting you on my nails.  (An explanation of that discovery is probably in order.  I had to smash a cockroach in my bedroom, so I grabbed the nearest non-breakable object I could find.  The top came off the bottle and some of it spilled on the floor, resulting in instant death for the cockroach.  "Hey, I like this!")

Baygon spray...  Oh, it's so good to have you back.  I was seriously a basket case without you.  (As in, close to tears several times when I walked into the kitchen and had to smash, instead of spray, the myriad of cockroaches.)

"Best brownies" recipe...  Yeah, I know you think that title makes you numero uno in the world of brownies.  Never heard of "the perfect brownie" recipe, eh?  It's found in "The Perfect Cookbook".  (No, I'm not making that up.  It's a real book sitting on our shelf back home.)  And those really are THE perfect brownies.  One day I shall write an ode to them.  (Because I have so much time for that sort of thing, you know.)

Neighbors cooking dinner...  I don't know what you were making, but it smelled like split-pea-and-ham soup.  I'm pretty sure that's not what it was, but…

Neighbors playing what sounded like worship music…  I couldn't hear the words, but the familiar style was enough to make me happy.

Snoring neighbors...  Yes, I can hear you.  Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!

Neighbors stomping and cheering wildly...  Let me guess.  Wrestling match on TV?

Apparently klutzy neighbors...  Could you please stop dropping pots, pans and other heavy objects…at midnight???

Neighbors with the barking dog...  I love dogs, but sometimes I reach my limits and I just want to shoot that creature!  Of course, if I was a dog and cooped up on the tiny patio all the time, I'd probably bark incessantly too.  But I'm not a dog.  And I'll just stop there.

Neighbors...  About your collective noise level: When I have a headache – or simply want to rest – it's nearly impossible.  And that makes me a little crazy.  Like, "ARGH!  There's nowhere I can go to get away from noise!!"  On a positive note, because y'all are so loud, I don't feel the least bit guilty about singing my heart out or playing music…unquietly.

Home

 

Ah, this song.



Before and after...

 

...a meal.

 

It wasn't the same mosquito, but at least you get a lovely comparison.  I've had enough experience smashing mosquitoes in my apartment that I can now tell with just a brief glance (while the wretched thing is still flying around) whether it's had a recent meal or not.  Is that creepy?

Current Reads

 

Two books at once?  I hardly ever do that.  (Unlike my mother, who usually has several books going at once. :))

 

Both of these are excellent, by the way.  I've read both of them more than once, and I highly recommend them.

Everyday Life: Shots from the Window

It's amazing how many interesting things I can see just from my apartment windows...

 

 

I have no idea what this was.  Warming up for a race? a soccer game?

 

 

 

This is a reflection on one of the windows.

 

 

I don't know exactly what this was - one Sunday (all day), there were all these people under canopies.  There was lovely music, very different from the style you normally hear around the neighborhood. 

 

 

 

 

 

I don't know what's in her bucket, but she often walks down the street, calling out something...which I don't understand.

 

Me and My Rights

I'm not sure if it's a Western thing or more just an American thing, but we talk about "rights" a lot.

Our right to vote.

Our right to own property.

Our right to justice.

Our right to voice our opinions freely.

And so on.

Lately I've been reflecting on some of the rights I hold so dear.  Not necessarily ones like voting, or owning, or even the "right" to a comfortable life.

Things like being understood, being thought of well, being treated well.

Actually, I might not have thought of them as "rights" at all until I realized how I reacted when I didn't get those things.  My friend doesn't understand me?   That's so not fair!  She ought to!  Someone questions a decision I make?  But I didn't make it carelessly.  I prayed about it.  I can explain it all.  It was a perfectly respectable and legitimate decision.  People laugh at me because I can't speak very well?  That's unkind.  They shouldn't be that way.

I hold onto those things (and others), as if I deserve them, as if they are my security.

But in this tight holding…I'm actually harming instead of protecting myself.  In this insistent demanding of things God never actually promised as mine, I miss true freedom.  I miss my real refuge, my real safe place.

The greatest things God gives me don't come packaged as rights – something I deserve.

They come as grace – something I never have been and never will be able to deserve.

This...

 

These are weapons.  I always keep one next to my pillow, in case a burglar breaks in. 

 

Just kidding.  I don't use them as weapons.  But they would make effective ones, should the need ever arise.

 

 

This is a picture that had potential but was spoiled by my camera angle.

 

 

This is a typical scene...sheep crossing the road.

 

 

This is the beach.

 

 

This is one of the Sunday School classes at my church back home.

 

 

This is bag of goodies folks from home sent with Uncle Dan and Auntie Tina.

 

 

These are cards from my Sunday School kids.  So sweet.

 

 

This is a hand-painted box made by Auntie Betty (from my church back home).  It makes a very handy place to store my jewelry. :)

 

 

This was Friday night.  Five girls, pizza, a movie, and caramel popcorn.  Fun!

 

 

This is the current jelly in my fridge: cashew apple butter.  It reminds me of a peach-apricot combination.

 

 

This is pesto fettuccine, courtesy of my friend Abigail.  (She sent the ingredients.)

 

 

This is laundry day.

 

 

This was Sunday...which really deserves its own post, but I'm being lazy efficient.  Everyone was taking pictures of everyone, which was kind of nice.  "Hurray, I can take pictures without being 'that weird one'!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a sign that, as everyone here keeps saying, La chaleur arrive (the heat is coming).  The fan is back in operation.

 

 

This is how I unwound after a longer-than-usual Sunday: a 2 1/2 hour trek through the snowy Austrian mountains, chains rattling all the way.

 

 

This was Monday morning's breakfast.

 

 

This was part of a weekend project: reorganizing my apartment.  It felt so good!

 

 

This is how I mark milestones.  (Have I really been here eight months?  Crazy.)

Hello, Africa...

Uncle Dan and Auntie Tina were here for a short (but full!) visit.  It was their first time in Africa.  Most of the pictures are from those four days, although I threw a few other ones in there that hadn't gotten posted yet.

 

 

It's been a while since I've shopped for more than one person.  I had to bleach my produce in batches. :)

 

 

No, this isn't a comet or shooting star.  It's just what happened when I tried to take a zoomed-in picture of a starry night.

 

 

 

 

No weird camera effects or editing here, just a slightly shaky hand!  Cool, huh?

 

- - -

 

 

We visited the island - third time for me, and it still hasn't lost its charm.

 

 

 

Big and little, modern and traditional.  All side by side (or at least within the same general vicinity).

 

 

- - -

 

Is it weird to sing O Come, Emmanuel when Easter is just around the corner?  'Cause I can't seem to help myself.

 

Just like I can't help myself when I start reading Evangelists.  I gotta read the whole thing.  In one sitting.

 

 

I've lost track of how many times I've read that book, but trust me, it's a lot.  (And by "a lot" I don't mean six or seven times.  Waaay more than that.)  I know the story so well that reading it is like visiting a gloriously familiar place with old friends.

 

 

Did I hear the word "obsessive"?  No, I'm not obsessive.  It just happens to be the best story I've ever read. :)

 

But of course, it isn't the only book I enjoy.

 

 

- - -

 

 

The day started out a bit overcast, so I didn't think much about sunscreen.  Plus, I'd spent most of the day at the island before, and I didn't get burned.

 

No such luck this time.

 

My nose got the worst of it, and nearly a week later, I'm peeling off bits every time I look in the mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

Potted plants are my one weakness.

 

(Although I still haven't gotten any for my place...)

 

 

 

 

 

This time I was trying to take pictures other than just doors and windows, which is hard, 'cause there are so many cool ones on the island.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can hardly see a clay pot without thinking of 2 Corinthians 4:7.  Some days I'm super thankful that clay pots are exactly what God likes to use.

 

Some days I'd rather be something a little more impressive and a lot less fragile than a clay pot.

 

- - -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

- - -

 

 

 

 

I was unable to refrain entirely from doors and windows.  Especially with colors like this.  Gorgeous!

 

 

Did I mention this island has a lot of color? :)

 

 

 

One of my especially artsy shots...

 

 

- - -

 

 

That fish was grilled with the teeth still in.  If you look closely, you can see them.

 

 

We're so American - taking pictures of food and taking pictures of people taking pictures.

 

- - -

 

 

Eeek!  The aliens landed and left their brains on the beach!

 

 

Rather an unfortunate name for a boat.  Beer.

 

 

 

Guess who this made us think of?!

 

- - -

 

 

We went for a drive after church on Sunday.  Tablecloths, anyone?

 

 

 

 

 

It was funny to see one of these here - I think it was a first for me.

 

 

We couldn't believe how many shells were on the beach.  So different from back home.

 

 

 

Note to self: Don't cross arms next time.  Doesn't look so good in pictures.

 

 

 

 

There.  That ought to be enough pictures for a while. ;)