Sara Alexander's blog

Astonish.  I really like that word and how often it is used in the gospels, when there was so much shock going around. Jesus was astonished at faith but mostly lack thereof; the disciples were astonished at Christ’s incredible statements; the crowds were astonished at His teaching. It seems clear that when one is walking with God in a remotely serious way there will be astonishment, probably on both sides.

Alive.  Merriam-Webster defines the word as having life : not dead or inanimate;  still in existence, force, or operation.  Christians around the globe celebrated the fact of Jesus Christ’s resurrection yesterday.   We believe he’s still in operation, that those shriveled lungs breathed air again and that his scarred body walked out of the dark tomb into a bright middle-eastern morning long ago.  Hallelujah!  But what did Operation Jesus look like come Monday morning?  Christ didn’t immediately return to heaven but hung around for another 40 days, tying up loose ends as it were.   We can learn a lot about the heart of God from reflecting on how his Son spent his last days here.

When it comes to important decision making, don’t you long for a neon sign from God?  At a pretty big crossroads recently, I found myself asking for a lightning bolt from him.   I had been praying for weeks for a powerful sense of the Spirit’s prompting, something dramatic upon which I could always look back and say yes, without a doubt, God led us this way.   But in his hallmark fashion, God answered my prayer differently than I expected.

For the New Year I’m rehearsing the truth of an oldie but goodie, Psalm 23.   It’s rich, profound, and best of all, true.  So followers of Christ, I invite you to forget its familiarity and re-live it with me today as if you’ve never heard it before.

Of the slow revelation of God’s plan for redeeming his wayward creation, C.S. Lewis wrote, “The whole thing narrows and narrows, until at last it comes down to a little point, small as the point of a spear – a Jewish girl at her prayers.”    Christ came for all humanity, but this Christmas I'm struck by the intimate way in which God dwelt, literally, in the feminine.   I’m struck by how his first advent restored the dignity of women.   God with us, ladies.

Twenty some odd years ago the great philosopher Don Henley crooned, “The more I know, the less I understand.  All the things I thought I knew before, I’m learning again.”  In my youth I liked the song but couldn't relate since I understood everything there was to know about everything.  Now the lyrics resonate.

Recently I was moved by an unlikely devotional passage – the account of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. In our hyper-tolerant culture, it’s undoubtedly one of those portions of Scripture that has compelled some to classify the Bible as hate literature. But I see a glimpse of God in all his multi-faceted glory, flickers of the very brilliance he would disclose to Moses on Sinai centuries later.

It’s election year and promises are flowing from the mouths of politicians like coffee at your church on Sunday morning. I’ve been reflecting on the promises we can actually count on, the promises of God. But some of the ones I’m thinking of are ones I’d rather not.

Inspired by the guts and glory of the ongoing Olympic games, I recently drifted back to relive my favorite Olympic moment from childhood. Before Michael, Ryan, Missy and Gabby, there was Mary Lou.

In his classic book The Jesus I Never Knew, Philip Yancey relates how the chasm between God and man was made plain to him as he tended a salt water aquarium.

Any word can become tired and eroded of meaning with overuse, but I think “Lord” in evangelical culture is one of the more lamentable cases.   “Praise the Lord.”   “Oh, Lord.”  “Lord, please….”   We throw his title around very casually, don’t we?    It’s become a virtual nickname for Jesus Christ, but I suspect we’ve forgotten what we proclaim when we use it.  

I was wrestling in prayer through some stubborn circumstances recently, trying for the umpteenth time to persuade “the Lord” to change them already.   Mid-plea, his words in Luke 6:46 came sharply to mind:   “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?”  

Sometimes believing God is more painful than not.  Praying for something consistently with no felt response can really smart, can’t it?  This is especially true if you’re someone who believes that God does things on the pavement of this life, not just in the next and not just in the spiritual realm.  Enter me.  I have seen God move in mighty ways and don’t believe material miracles have ceased.  What I believe and regularly experience, however, are at odds.  You see, I inhabit a body that is largely a nuisance and my prayers for physical healing have thus far been turned down.  If I saw Christ in the flesh, I would dive for the hem of his garment.  Until then, I pray.   I don’t know how many times I’ve asked for God’s healing, but he does. What I do know is that it’s difficult to keep asking, to hope that perhaps entreaty number 2,432 will be the one.