Aren’t they the cutest little guys ever?! Noah is on your left and David Cai is on the right. They look like they are somehow related, don’t they?
Stephen recently wrote this article for the Sacred Charge website giving a vision for prevailing faith, and it absolutely provoked my heart… so I wanted to share it with all of you. Enjoy and I pray it will exhort your hearts to believe as much as it did my own. — Karli
The body of Christ in every generation must stand at a similar crossroads. As we read of the power of the Holy Spirit in the New Testament and feel the painful disparity between what we find on those pages and what we have known in our experience, what will we do? This question confronts us both individually and corporately, and though we may evade its pursuit for a season, at some point we must turn and reckon with its probing force. While much could be written of the marvelous works Jesus performed in and through the apostolic church, only a cursory journey through the middle portion of the book of Acts is necessary to shine the light on the barrenness of Western Christianity in the 21st century.
In a mere five verses in the fifth chapter, we are informed that signs and wonders were so prevalent that those who were in need from the cities surrounding Jerusalem were brought to the feet of the apostles and the sick were even laid out in the streets in the hope that Peter’s shadow might fall upon them. The result was that multitudes of men and women were added to the Lord (v 14) and all who came found healing and deliverance in His precious name (v 16). In verse 19 of Acts 5, the apostles are miraculously freed from imprisonment by an angel. Acts 6:8 describes how Stephen, who was simply responsible for distributing food and not actually one of the apostles, “did great wonders and signs among the people.” After baptizing the Ethiopian convert, Philip was caught up by the Spirit and transported to a different city (8:39-40). In the next chapter a man who was paralyzed is healed through the ministry of Peter, followed by the remarkable account of the raising of a woman named Tabitha from the dead in the city of Joppa (9:36-43). The night before he was to be executed, an angel came to Peter in prison and escorted him out of bondage into safety (12:5-19). In a similar vein, Paul and Silas found themselves beaten and in shackles for the cause of Christ when suddenly a great earthquake shook the prison and released them from their chains (14:25-34). As the story continues to unfold we are told that “God worked unusual miracles by the hand of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons were brought from his body to the sick, and the diseases left them and the evil spirits went out of them (19:11-12).”
Furthermore, Divine communication is riddled throughout the tale of the first generation of followers of Christ. Jesus appeared to Stephen at his death, to Paul at his conversion, and to Ananias with instructions to restore Paul’s sight (7:56; 9:5; 9:10 respectively). Cornelius the centurion was visited by an angel in an open vision, after which Peter was caught up in a trance while in prayer (10:3, 10). Agabus prophesied of a famine that would come upon the land, the apostolic mission to the gentiles was directed to go to Macedonia through a vision in the night, and the Lord Jesus appeared again to Paul in order to encourage his heart (11:28; 16:9; 18:9). The testimonies go on and on, and this is not even highlighting the astonishing power of the Holy Spirit present in the preaching of the early Church.
By contrast the sick in our midst almost always stay sick, regardless of whether one is ‘evangelical’ or ‘charismatic’. In other words, possessing a rhetoric which includes the power of the Spirit is not at all synonymous with the reality of it. Though profoundly grateful for what the Lord has done, at IHOP-KC alone over the last few years we have had the privilege of standing in prayer with four dear souls in their struggle against terminal cancer… each one of them glorified Jesus by loving Him well as they lost that battle and died. Not surprisingly we don’t find diseased and tormented unbelievers flocking to our churches as they did to the apostles and their followers. We don’t even have the opportunity to be miraculously delivered from prison because our witness is not powerful enough to evoke the resistance from the world to put us in fetters. While the diluted, culturally assimilated proclamation going forth from so many pulpits in the land may be effective at making ‘seekers’ feel comfortable, we know nothing of words so laden with heavenly power that thousands are cut to the soul and conquered by the glory of Christ (Acts 2:37). And though there seems to be more people than ever with the word ‘prophet’ in front of their name, few and far between are those men and women who truly stand in the counsel of the Lord and declare His word in truth.
This is not the context to develop either the biblical theology of healing or that of suffering (both of which we have the propensity to monumentally err on), or to try to unearth the causes of the absence of the Spirit in our utterance. Still from this juxtaposition at least one thing should be clear – we are missing something. And thus we arrive once more at the question posed at the outset: what will we do? Sadly the most common response throughout history has been the path of least resistance, accepting the way things are and explaining away the dissonance between the Bible and what we have known by putting the New Testament in a different category theologically. In effect this puts the book of Acts high on a shelf to be admired and applauded but never emulated or sought after. Yet as our generation stands at the crossroads there is another option. It is the difficult way, and surely the road less traveled, but the one we must embrace. In opting for this lonely path we are allowing our hearts to be torn over the vision for the fullness of the Spirit and daring to believe in what we have never seen. Instead of finding a shallow peace with the way things are, we elect instead to throw ourselves into the crushing tension of intercession where we contend in faith for the way God desires them to be. This posture is that which embodies and undergirds the fourth value of the IHOP heart-standards – Prophetic, or prevailing faith, as Mike Bickle has often said over the years. To prevail in our stand for the power of God does not mean that we are free from doubt, or that we do not grow weary, but simply that the slow passage of time without the answer we seek does not extinguish our tears and prayers for God to break through. In the end, our conviction in the mercy of Jesus and His passion to pour out His Spirit triumphs over the weakness of our own hearts and years of waiting.
For me the revelation of the Lord’s desire to release His power today and not just on the pages of history came like an avalanche as I discovered the writings of Smith Wigglesworth and John G. Lake during my college years. At the time I did not realize how deeply my heart was being marked by the vision for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, nor was I aware of how much my motivation for His power needed to be purified and how much the desire to see signs and wonders would be tested. Even in the ten short years that have intervened, I have found it increasingly difficult to avoid becoming calloused and to keep my heart soft and broken over our barrenness. Zeal is cheap, but endurance is costly. Yet through the pain of perseverance, I have gained clearer perspective on how we must contend for power from on high. Revival does not exist to cure the chronic boredom we wrestle with nor to enlarge our churches so we can finally feel a sense of significance in the landscape of ministry. In the Divine heart the unleashing of His miraculous might upon a city or nation is unto the glory of Christ and compassion for hurting people. Unless our hearts are aligned with these two purposes, we will likely not prevail in our faith and if revival does come we will almost certainly be crushed by the pressure that accompanies authentic power. God insisted upon this final heart standard in the DNA of this movement because He is so zealous for the exaltation of His Son and so filled with tenderness and mercy for the sick and the oppressed as they suffer. These currents in His heart are just as strong now as they were when the apostles turned the world upside down in the first-century. Let this be our confidence, and may His renown be our all-consuming aim as we stand at the crossroads. What will we do? We will take our stand and believe God for an unprecedented breakthrough of power and the full manifestation of the gifts of the Holy Spirit in our generation.
May our faith prevail…
I love these pictures because I love this side of Noah. He is a gazer, my little contemplative, and I love to see the wonder and intrigue in his little heart. It’s amazing how certain aspects of our personalities are there right from the very beginning. Noah has always quietly and purposefully observed the world around him – with a remarkable depth in his little gaze… oh to know what is swirling in his little heart and mind…
And the wonder of it all almost always turns into overflowing joy… wonderfully contagious joy! I love this little boy… he is the miracle and joy of my heart. Can you tell?
In other news, the neurosurgeon appointment was moved up and so we saw him on Tuesday this week. He is apparently one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, and he only sees patients on Tuesdays. So that is probably why we had to wait five hours just to be seen. The resident came in first, and he actually explained an os odontoideum for the first time, which was helpful. Then we saw the neurosurgeon for what amounted to approximately twenty or thirty seconds total – during which time, I think I was first insulted and then told I needed to have a CT and come back. To be fair, the resident tried to prepare us with a nice little disclaimer about his mentor - something about how great he was… world renown and so forth… thus, he doesn’t spend much time with patients and is very direct. (Apparently, when you are that amazing, you don’t even need to talk to your patients anymore). So I guess we should have been prepared for it, but it was still hard for both of us. Afterwards, Stephen wrote a speech to the doctor in his head and I didn’t say much at all… until finally in the car, I just cried.
I’m not sure why I cried to be honest. The reason the doctor wanted me to have a CT is because he doesn’t think I even have the os odontoideum, which would be great news. I think I’m just tired of doctors… and of feeling like we’re just running around in circles accomplishing almost nothing by seeing them. I don’t have any delusions or false hope when it comes to medicine anymore. I realize that it is what it is… sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t… and I know that doctors are just people with M.D. behind their names, far from the ’gods’ of our imaginations. But it would be nice to have a doctor actually read through those papers they make you spend an hour filling out beforehand OR to sit down, ask you what is going on, and when you answer, LISTEN to what you have to say OR maybe, just maybe, remember as they are talking to you that you are someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone’s daughter, someone’s friend… that the person sitting across from them could be someone they cared about and how would they want that person to be treated by the one they came to for help… is that too much to ask?
My rheumatologist is that kind of doctor. The orthopedic surgeon that did my last hip replacement (for free because the Lord told him to)was definitely that kind of doctor — he was an incredible surgeon too so he was the whole package (he’s retired now sadly). And really, Noah’s doctors are awesome too — pediatric doctors are usually great though. But unfortunately, in my experience (which I think is pretty extensive for a thirtysomething year old), the good ones that are skillful physicians but still see a person sitting in front of them seem to be few and far between. I’m grateful that the Lord has led us to some of the few though. And truthfully, if I had to have a neurosurgeon (i.e. if I had to have brain surgery), I think I’d rather have the ‘world renown’ one with all his pomposity than the nice guy or girl that isn’t a good surgeon (not exactly the kind of surgery that allows for significant margin of error)… but wouldn’t it be nice if the “best” came with compassion… kind of like, oh I don’t know… the Great Physician (Who has every reason to boast, but humbled Himself that we would be healed). Okay – sorry, just blog-venting… would that be ‘blenting’?
Anyway, today I had the CT, and in about a week and a half (the Tuesday after next), we see the nice doctor again. And this time we’ll bring books and notepads and such to occupy the time during our wait… and hopefully, we’ll be better prepared for the twenty seconds with the doctor too.
I feel like I’ve been living in the reality of Mark 5:26-28 these last few months. My Hope (capital H hope) is not in any doctor or medicine or anything this world has to offer. It rests solely in that Man who was and is and will always be God walking through the crowds wearing His heart out on His sleeve. If I touch even the hem of His garments…
More to come… another post soon.
Mourning makes us poor; it powerfully reminds us of our smallness. But it is precisely here, in that pain or poverty or awkwardness, that the Dancer invites us to rise up and take the first steps. For in our suffering, not apart from it, Jesus enters our sadness, takes us by the hand, pulls us gently up to stand, and invites us to dance. We find the way to pray, as the psalmist did, “You have turned my mourning into dancing” (Ps. 30:11), because at the center of our grief, we find the grace of God. (Henri Nouwen)
Never before has the reality of our life as a vapor (James 4) or a fading flower (Isa 40) been so tangibly real in my own life as it has in the last month or so… yet simultaneously, it is as if I am living in slow motion right now, where every breath seems to come to me just as slow as it leaves me, where every joy stuns and overwhelms me as it slowly washes over me and every sorrow wounds me as it steadily penetrates all my pretentious defenses. Some days I feel like I’m the person in that climactic scene that we’ve all seen in the movies where the slow ballad plays and the main character is taking stock of his or her life through one slow motion glimpse or memory after another. It’s amazing how even in the small things… like a lily opening up her ’soul’ to the sun after a sweet spring rain OR the innocent delight of my little Noah as he runs from one side of the room to the other while turning his cute smiling face to find Mommy’s delight in him as he passes me by… in these little, slow-moving moments, my eyes seem to open to Something, or Someone, more alive than life itself.
The days have been indescribably slow, yet indelibly transforming. In the same chapter by Henri Nouwen quoted above, he says:
“I once saw a stonecutter remove great pieces from a huge rock on which he was working. In my imagination I thought, That rock must be hurting terribly. Why does this man wound the rock so much? But as I looked longer, I saw the figure of a graceful dancer emerge gradually from the stone, looking at me in my mind’s eye and saying, “You foolish man, didn’t you know that I had to suffer and thus enter into my glory?”
Mourning, loss, suffering, pain… all of these have an unwavering power to reveal our humanity – our smallness in the scheme of things – as well as our deep disdain for said weakness. In the best of circumstances, it is easy to sing the old song, “I Surrender All…” but when push comes to shove, those words do not fall from our lips quite as freely. Or maybe they do, but the weight of them upon our souls is absolutely crushing if we are truly ‘drinking the cup.’
I have been ”enjoying” that place of crushing these last few months. I find that I am utterly helpless in this experience of physical pain. I can take the medicines that are available to me and I can go through a short list of things that might help, but at the end of the day, all I can really do is endure. And even enduring has taken on an entirely new meaning. It’s hard to explain, but quite honestly, I have never experienced this kind of pain before and it has been a trial by fire unlike anything I have ever known. Have you ever felt something, whether physically or emotionally, that you really (in all honesty, with no drama or exaggeration) thought that there was no way you could take one more second of… that it was too much and in its absolute desolation, you were left reeling as you tried to figure out a way to stop it, get out of it, or just do absolutely anything so you didn’t have to experience one more minute of it??
A friend of mine, D, had one of those labor and deliveries that we all pray will never happen to us. Her baby’s head was turned and literally ”stuck” in the birth canal after hours and hours of labor. The epidural that she was given to help alleviate the excruciating pain had somehow come unplugged, so she was left to experience every second of it. Afterwards she recalled reaching a point in the midst of it where she just knew, “This is it. I cannot go on any longer.” And when she was describing just how bad it was and how she had reached that place where she knew she couldn’t take it anymore… I remember another friend, who we will call MB, responding (in a way that only he could get away with), “What does that mean? What was the alternative?” Meaning, what other option did she have?
And that, my friends, is the crushing blow. There are no options. It might get better, it might stay the same, or it may even get worse, but time will still keep moving and there is no other way around what lies ahead… the only way is THROUGH it. And it is in our journey through that we find this profound invitation from the Lord.
Because you see, He too went through and not around. Jesus, though being in very nature God Himself, made Himself nothing, humbled Himself and became obedient to death, even death on a Cross. He suffered more than any man, before or since. He was beaten and scourged so much so that He was unrecognizable as a man. Yet He was God… unlike us, He had a choice to go above or around or any other way He wanted, but He chose to go through… Jesus chose the Cross.
Now if God went through and not around, where does that leave us?
Well… first and foremost, it means we are not alone. There is no pain too horrific, no loss too unimaginable, no depth too dark and impenetrable that Love hasn’t travelled the road before us. Love went to the abyss and death didn’t win… even the grave could not contain Him. He united Himself to us forever when He took on flesh and He invites us to know something of Himself even (and especially) as we travel down the terrifyingly dark alleyways life brings us. God chose to reveal the passion of His own heart in the way of the Cross, and the way to the Resurrection will always be through, never around, the Cross.
We also find each other at the foot of the Cross. We are bound one to another in our “human-ness.” Though our roads may look a bit different, we are all in the same boat. We’re not so different from each other… we’re all utterly human and vulnerable to the storms that rage around us. But that’s a different post…
His way also reveals the ‘other side.’ The joy that comes on Easter morning. There is a promise, a living Hope, set before us in that Day. Though we die a thousand deaths, death has forever lost its sting. Oh glorious Day… how I long for the rising of the Son and the end of this long night. But the darkest hour comes just before the dawn. The way from Palm Sunday to Easter is the way of suffering.
And so, it came in a dream – the answer to my reachings for the Lord in the midst of this crazy hard season. One night last week, I had a dream where I was in this desert and it was pitch black. I was laying with my face in the dirt (appropriately). And as I laid there, I started to hear the sound of these deep African drums and dark wind instruments. The music got louder and louder and I heard what sounded like a children’s choir singing “dance, dance, dancing in the dirge” until their voices seemed to lift me out of the dirt onto my feet. And just as I took my first step into a dance, I woke up. I woke up with a new understanding…
Somewhere in this rubble and mass of stone, there lives a dancer. Though right now, it is hard to see… maybe no one knows except the Sculptor that she’s even there… but what He sees is all that matters. The path toward freedom comes as I surrender myself to the Hands of the Master. I have before me this incredible invitation to travel with Him through the way of Love that I would not miss its heights and depths. And what I am discovering is that the Dancer dances even now. Here in the midst of mourning is where I find my first steps… it is here in the dirge that I am learning the foundations of the dance as I surrender to His perfect leadership in each movement and with every breath.
Yet I must confess that even as I took my first steps, I found myself asking Him with fear in my heart… are You sure this is the way??
But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor 12:9-10)
Happy Week After Resurrection Day!
more about “Video of I Have Seen the Lord” :: Des…“, posted with vodpod
Tonight Stephen is preaching on the Cross at the House of Prayer’s (Good) Friday Night Encounter God Service. You can watch or listen to the message LIVE AT THIS WEBSITE (for free). Look for the menu that says LIVE WEBCAST WITH WORSHIP AND TEACHING and click on Watch or Listen (whichever you prefer) next to the Friday Night 6pm session. The message starts around 7:30pm CST.
You can get the notes for the message above at this link. Look for the menu titled Most Recent Notes and Stephen’s will be at the top or near the top. You can also get a copy of a Harmony of the Crucifixion Accounts from the Gospels here.
Today we celebrate the most unimaginable day in the history of all things… the day God was wounded for our transgressions and chastised for our iniquities. God Himself bore our griefs and carried our sorrows. He did not look away from the ocean of pain and depraved ugliness in the human heart, yet we despised Him, rejected Him and assumed Him to be smitten by God (though He was God). Jesus was the Man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief… oppressed and afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, yet He said nothing, did nothing to stop it. He could have turned the world on its axis and called all of Heaven’s angels to His side. No one actually had the power to take His life… it was Jesus who laid it down by His own accord.
Today, on Good Friday, may our hearts come before a Love so Radical, a Passion so Holy, and a Desire so Unthinkable that even death was not too far to reach for the King of Kings and Lord or Lords.
Take this to heart and doubt not that you are the one who killed Christ. Your sins certainly did, and when you see the nails driven through his hands, be sure that you are pounding, and when the thorns pierce his brow, know that they are your evil thoughts. Consider that if one thorn pierced Christ you deserve one hundred thousand.
The whole value of the meditation of the suffering of Christ lies in this, that man should come to the knowledge of himself and sink and tremble. If you are so hardened that you do not tremble, then you have reason to tremble. Pray to God that he may soften your heart and make fruitful your meditation upon the suffering of Christ, for we ourselves are incapable of proper reflection unless God instills it.
But if one does meditate rightly on the suffering of Christ for a day, an hour, or even a quarter of an hour, this we may confidently say is better than a whole year of fasting, days of psalm singing, yes, than even one hundred masses, because this reflection changes the whole man and makes him new… (Martin Luther)
To those present that day the Cross was a scene unforgettable in its horror and yet somehow unthinkably beautiful. Memories of skin torn asunder, heaving sweat, dripping blood, and tear-stained eyes filled their minds. Through the testimony of Scripture and the ministry of the Holy Spirit we, no less than they, should also know the feeling of this graphic scene bearing down upon our souls until our hearts are crushed. When you join John at the foot of the Cross and behold the chest you leaned upon the night before now covered in blood and straining to be filled with breath, indifference is not plausible. If you kneel beside Mary and look up to see the One who entered your womb by the Holy Spirit, the One who grew before your eyes through the passing years, the One promised to sit upon the throne of David, now marred and reviled, your heart is flung into a torrent of emotion. (Stephen Venable)
…That is why the saints have always taken up meditation on the sorrows of Jesus Christ: it was by this means that Saint Francis of Assisi became a seraph. One day a gentleman found him weeping and crying out with a loud voice. On being asked why he did so, he answered, “I weep for the sorrows and ignominies of my Lord: and what makes me weep the most is that we, for whom he suffered so much, live in forgetfulness of Him.” And on saying this he redoubled his tears, so that this man too began to weep. Whenever the saint heard the bleating of a lamb, or saw anything else that reawakened the memory of Jesus’ Passion, he immediately fell aweeping. Another time, when he was sick, someone told him that he should have a book of devotion read to him. “My book,” he replied, “is Jesus crucified.” Hence he did nothing but exhort his brethren to think of the Passion of Jesus Christ at all times. (St. Alphonsus Liguori)
Great thief of hearts, the strength of your love has broken even our hard hearts. You inflamed the whole world with your love. Wisest Lord, inebriate our hearts with this wine, burn them with this fire, pierce them with this arrow of your love. This, your cross, is indeed a crossbow that pierces hearts. Let the whole world know that my heart is stricken. Sweetest love, what have you done? You have come to heal me, and you have wounded me. You have come to teach me, and you have made me like someone mad. O wisest madness, may I never live without you. Lord, everything that I see on the cross invites me to love: the wood, the form, the wounds in your body; and above all, your love invites me to love you and never forget you. (John of Avila)
Today is Maundy Thursday, aka Holy Thursday, aka Great and Holy Thursday, aka Sheer Thursday (sheer meaning ‘clean’ or ‘bright’)… in simple terms, it is the Thursday before Easter commemorating the Last Supper, the washing of the disciples’ feet, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the betrayal of Christ. Before we had Noah, we would go to one of the Episcopal churches in downtown Kansas City for their Maundy Thursday service. We haven’t done it in Noah’s infant or toddler years, but we hope to renew that tradition next year. If you haven’t been to a liturgical Maundy Thursday service or Good Friday service, they are so rich (if you can find a good church) and I recommend it. The typical Maundy Thursday service begins in celebration of the Last Supper and the commandment given by the Lord (Maundy actually means “command”) to “love one another as I have loved you.” It then usually goes through the breaking of the bread and drinking of the cup at the Last Supper as well as the washing of the feet (some churches even have a footwashing ceremony.) But the end… oh, the end is my favorite part.
In a nutshell, there are seven candles lit before the service and one larger candle representing Christ… and at the end, there is a reading for each of the seven candles before they are extinguished one by one:
1) Shadow of Betrayal – Matthew 26:20-25, 2) Shadow of Inner Agony – Luke 22:40-44, 3) Shadow of Loneliness – Matthew 26-40-45, 4) Shadow of Desertion – Matthew 26:47-50,55,56, 5) Shadow of Accusation – Matthew 26:59-67, 6) Shadow of Mockery – Mark 15:12-20, 7) Shadow of Death – Luke 23:33-46
After each passage is read and each candle is extinguished, the reader says, “Lord, have mercy,” and the church responds, “Christ, have mercy.”
Finally there is only one candle lit in the room. No other lights to be seen but the light of Christ represented by the singular flame. And these words are spoken:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. (John 1:1-4 )
The light has come into the world, but people love the shadows rather than the light.
The Christ candle is extinguished.
The church is in complete darkness.
And all you hear is a solemn voice say these piercing words from the darkness…
”My God, My God why have you forsaken me?”
That is how you leave the service… in the dark. So powerful. The first time I ever went to a Maundy Thursday service, I left in tears and wept all the way home.
I love liturgy – there is something so beautiful about it… because it is His Word. Sometimes, especially around Easter and Christmas when there is SO MUCH to be spoken from the Scriptures, I feel like the church, in all its efforts to be palatable and relevant, has long left the Word behind and traded it for feel-good sentimentalities that feed our flesh and not our souls. And ironically, that only makes the church less relevant, but that’s another story.
This afternoon I read this post by Angie (Bring the Rain)and cried all the way through it. (If you have never read her blog before, this link will give context to the significance of April 7th and what the post above is about. Prepare to cry a lot.) As I read Angie’s words (I love that she quotes people like Nouwen and Guyon in her posts), I was reminded by all that Jesus had to say in those final days before He went to the Cross. Think about it… the words, like in John 13-17, are the words GOD in the flesh saved for those last moments with His disciples… the words that would be recorded forever in Scripture before those great and glorious Days that follow and changed history and our lives forever. All the words of God are vastly relevant and important to our lives, but these words, the ones spoken in His last days and with His very last breaths on the earth before the Cross, how much more weight should we give them?
Anyway, all of this also made me think again about how I want to build traditions for our family especially around Christmas and Easter that serve as a remembrance and celebration of the One we love. I want Noah to grow up knowing Jesus and loving His appearing more than some imaginary bunny or man in a red suit. And around that time, I got an email from my “bff” (smile) and they are doing something so cool with Maddie and David this year. We’re going to steal their idea, which is actually Noel Piper’s idea. Here are some pictures from Dana (hopefully she won’t care that I’m posting them here):
Jesus is alive! : )
Here’s the basic recipe for doing this (taken from the Desiring God blog), but you can get more specifics at the Desiring God Blog OR in Noel Piper’s book, Treasuring God in our Traditions.
Ingredients for playdough:
- 4 c. of flour
- 1.5 c. salt
- 1.5 c. water
- 1 Tbs. oil
(Increase or decrease depending on how big you want your mountain to be.)
Other items you’ll need:
- several pipe cleaners (Dana used their Bible figures instead, which I like better too)
- 2 twigs
- 1 small aluminum can
Making the Mountain
- Mix playdough ingredients and knead. Add small amounts of water as needed until the texture is right.
- Separate a small lump of dough and form a disc-shaped “stone” to cover the entry to the “tomb.” (The can will be the tomb, so the stone needs to be a little bigger around than the can.)
- Shape the rest of the dough into a mound. Embed the can into one side, open side out, to create a cave.
- Press the cross into the top of the mountain to form a hole deep enough to stand the cross in. Make the hole a bit larger than the stick because the hole will get smaller when the mountain bakes.
- Press a fork randomly around into the hill to make “footholds” for the stick people.
- Bake the “mountain” and the “stone” 4-5 hours at 250 degrees.
- When cooled, color with paint or markers.
Using Your Playdough Mountain
You can play with the figures all week reenacting different scenes of the passion week to build up to Good Friday. With your kids on Friday, you can reenact the story of Jesus’ death-putting him on the cross, burying him in the cave, and rolling the stone in front of it. They will feel the waiting, small as it is – it builds in a little heart more than we realize, on Saturday when Jesus is hidden in the mountain and it is set aside.
On Easter, before your little ones are awake, take him out of the tomb and put him somewhere for them to find. First they’ll notice the tomb is empty; then they’ll see that he’s alive.
The simple joy of a child over a plastic figure (or pipe cleaner figure) of Jesus alive is a reminder of where our hearts should be this weekend… because He is a real man and He is God and this is how we know His glory.
Thought all my mommy and daddy friends might enjoy that : ) for this weekend.
Finally, I just have to point this out because I loved it… but you should also check out this video on the Desiring God Blog of an old friend, Matt Chandler, talking about the true Gospel of the Cross. SO good. Jesus wants the rose. Arms wide open, Heart exposed. We are that rose.
