Even still...

...I miss...

...pink peppermints hidden in pockets
...me, hidden by his side, my arm through his, my head on his shoulder
...the laugh that began deep inside and inevitably ended with a snort and a shake of his head
...the reverence of prayer filled with Thy's and Thou's and the rolling of r's
...fighting with my brothers to sit next to him at Sunday dinner
...hands that swallowed mine, no matter how grown I'd gotten to be
...eyes full of absolute and unquestioned love
...him.

Arthur Knyfd, d. January 23, 2009
http://laurenkooistra.blogspot.com/2010/01/but-moment.html

Covenantal Living

Recently I found myself at the wedding ceremony of some lovely friends.  I sat in the congregation, unsuspecting, reflecting on the loveliness of the couple and the miracle that is marriage, when suddenly the word

"covenant"

leapt off the tongue of the minister and came catapulting through the air toward me, lodging itself--large, and etched in silver--on the frontal cortex of my brain.  I thought:

Buy a book.  You need to understand this.

So, buy a book I did.

Fast forward a few months to this past weekend, which found me in nyc with Lisa and Geoff for our yearly installment of "Lauren Lisa and Geoff Get Together and Hash Out Life".  This installment was similar to others: food, drink, hashing out life, food, movie, food, jazz at Dizzy's Club. Food.

[Yes, this statement--

uttered pretty early on in the weekend by a key member of the group--

encapsulates our time together: 

"I love food."  

Enough said.]

But. The real point of HOL? 

Be together.

Live life together.

Engage in real, deep, longterm relationship.

Together.

Now, you may be wondering what these two seemingly separate topics--covenant and the real relationship emphasized in HOL--have to do with each other. You may be wondering where I'm going, and if you are, I do not blame you.  I just ask you: 

Trust me, and walk with me for a moment.

Walk with me on the path that I have been walking over this past year, the path of learning:  

Walking in real relationship is difficult,

because we are all just walking wounded.

I have come to learn that with our wounds, we wound those around us, in the places that are often the most raw.

We hurt each other, and hurt leads to bells and whistles screaming in our heads "unsafe! get out!".

We try to protect our own hearts.  We hide.

We are human.  It is bound to happen.

But.

Speaking of being bound, did you know that a covenant is binding?

I found this out on Sunday morning when I walked into L & G's church to discover that the sermon topic for the day was--you guessed it--

covenant.

[Of course it was on covenant. I have walked with God long enough now to never be surprised by these seeming coincidences.]

And I learned: 

A covenant is a binding contract between two parties.  It says "I will do this and you will do that".

"But!," my little scrambling mind screams, 

"problem!"

If I am in covenant with you, I will let you down.  I will fail you.  I cannot hold up my side.

And here is where we intersect with another pathway I have been walking this year:

The pathway of learning to live in Grace.  

Abundant, extravagant, makes-no-sense kind of grace. 

The kind of grace that I can stand in and say: 

"God, I have no idea what the right answer is and I'm crazy in my head to boot, but I'm going to trust that your grace is sufficient.  That you will make right what I can't help but make wrong."

Because--did you know?  God's covenant is equal parts law and love.  It says there is something I'm being held to, but that His love will not let me go when I screw it all up.  He will not walk away from me, no matter what, because He knows I am just walking wounded.  And I am not bound in judgement or consequence--I am bound in freedom, because the purpose of His own wounds is that He loved me to the point where He took my wounds on Himself.  

And so, here is what I'm wondering:

What if I were to approach the relationships in my life covenantally?  

What if I were to say "I see your wounds, and I take them as my own, no matter the hurt they might inflict on me or the sacrifice they might ask of me.  I will allow myself to be vulnerable before you, and ask you for your grace.  I will fight the bells in my head pointing me toward my own safety.   I will not walk away from you.  No matter what."?

What if?

"But!"  my ever-present mind spins.  "Problem! I am human.  I can't.  I will fail you.  It is better if I walk away."

And, in my humanity, I turn around to do it.  To walk away.  To find:  Jesus, the Creator of the Covenant, waiting just behind me.

He takes my downcast face full of terrified shame-laced eyes, and turns it to His, with a tenderness I can barely endure.  

He says, 

"Take those wounds, add them to your own, 

and then give them to Me.  

I will take them, I will add them to my wounds.  

And by my wounds?  

You are healed."

Because--did you know?  

His wounds are covenantal.  They are equal parts law and love.  They bind me to Him, forever.  And, they give me the strength to stand, healed and armored with Grace, in otherwise impossible real relationship.

In covenantal living.

No matter what.

Good-bye Old Year, Hello New

I had never been a lover of New Year's Eve--

too much pressure to wear high heels and a silly hat, while balancing a glass filled with substances I don't particularly like--

until  "New Year's Eve" became synonymous with "Baxter Time".

Baxter Time in any capacity is time well spent.

(Baxter Time is also well planned, thank you Adam.)

The typical pressures are removed, 

since I can walk around in just my socks

while other people wear silly hats.

(Just kidding Nathan, you know I love that hat.)

There is, however, a little bit of pressure still involved:

The pressure to perform in activities slightly outside of my comfort zone.

Linked to the latest Christmas gifts, 

past years have included Guitar Hero and other various Wii activities designed for me to fail. 

This year's humiliation of choice?

Dance equal to (or much much less than) Michael Jackson.

Hm.

(If we are talking about humiliation, let's conveniently forget to mention the foosball tournament I lose in--less than or equal to--3 minutes).  

Fortunately, I am not the only one ever caught in situations that might come back to haunt,

and for evidence-- 

I give you:

and:

Really, the small pressures involved in embarrassing one another are worth it, in that they lead to much opportunity for hilarity.

You see, with games and movies (and endless quoting of movies, particularly by 3 younger males) and shopping and eating and tea and cookies and talking and teasing making up all of our time together,

we find ourselves just endlessly laughing.

And laughing--I have come to learn--cannot be genuinely performed if genuine pressure is involved.

So, now that the old year has passed gracefully away and the new one has dawned bright and fair in the company of these old and dear friends,

I only feel pressured to tell you:

I am one blessed girl.

(My glass runneth over--

with things I DO particularly enjoy, beyond what I deserve.)