Grace.

Unspeakable, unstoppable, unquenchable grace.

I saw it today.

Grace looked like a bare cement floor, empty cupboards and curtainless windows.

I don’t know know how to describe it, but it’s burning in my heart, so I have to try. Today Grace took the form of the house of a single mom I know. She’s been through the ringer. She has laid her heart open to her community of companions in a humbling display of contrition. Her life was just too overwhelming to walk through alone.

One by one the companions came. Some sorted precious belongings - few of those. Some threw out the flotsam of trash the world convinces us to horde and protect. Some brought order back, cleaned. Some came and ripped out the filthy carpets and painted the walls clean. Her house is a metaphor for her life: it is swept out now, waiting for the rebuilding process that will follow grace as surely as that wonderful smell follows the rain.

Grace looked like those bare cement floors, waiting for carpet, waiting for new life.

The best part of the journey was the diversity of her companions. The humbling part was that the hardest steps of the journey were accomplished with companions who had walked the very same road. In ripping out carpets and cleaning out cupboards they found healing from bits of their own pathways.

Grace. Undeserved, unmerited favor of an overwheming God who pours blessing after blessing over us in showers of life.

It’s all about the people.

That is the conclusion I have reached this week, and it’s a good conclusion. It has worked for every situation I’ve been in!

We started our week with our Pastor’s wife and daughter, already happily touring the Boston area when David and I arrived on Monday. I noticed that Noelle (the daughter) had very definite opinions on which historical tours we were going to take: Paul Revere’s house yes, Buckman Tavern no. Favorite attraction was John Quincy Adams’ house and library. It did not take long to realize why. For Noelle, history is all about the people and their stories. “George Washington really slept here!!!” It is no coincidence that she lives her life that way, as well.

We also shared several dinners with my mother while we were here. On each occasion she added (or wanted to add) to the guest list. “I don’t want her to feel left out!” Sweet. And while I’m not going to say that my mother doesn’t enjoy our company, we have noticed that she wakes up and sparkles when there are other guests at dinner. She is alone a lot, and for her it is all about the people, too.

And then there’s me. David and I were looking forward yesterday to two friends from Florida joining us at our condo while they visit their college-freshman daughter. Brian and Robin live just up the road in Florida, but we find we connect far more often as couples in the northeast. To me, the pleasure of fall in New England was multiplied many times by sharing even a smidge of it with my friend.

Now we sit at the airport, blogging away and checking Facebook. That’s when I realized how true this post is. A quick scan down my friend’s status statements and I’m in the loop. I see that my oldest daughter — who should be studying — appears to be playing this weekend. And I can see that my baby girl must not be awake yet. A couple of their friends, however, have said really sweet things on my Facebook. And at church our adult ministries pastor’s wife is planning to come to service in spite of delivering a baby and having two surgeries, all within three weeks. I guess I won’t complain tonight when I’m too tired to want to go to church.

And I probably wouldn’t complain anyway, because at church I’m surrounded with other people making their way through this crazy kingdom. The journey would be nothing without them.

It’s all about the people.

This is part of Watercooler Wednesday at Ethos - a cultural watercooler. Go check it out!

I found this description of the kind of community that happens when people are forced — for one reason or another — to leave their homes and wander through the town! This quote is from the book “The Piano Shop on the Left Bank,” by Thad Carhart. Its subtitle is “Discovering a forgotten passion in a Paris Atelier.” How can you resist a title like that? It is a great memoir of a man who rediscovers his delight of playing the piano for entertainment and private enjoyment. The writing is descriptive, and I almost feel like I am living in the quaint quartier of Paris myself. Which could explain my sudden craving for chocolate croissants.

Summer set in early and the sidewalks in the quartier came alive after hours. In a city where few apartments are air-conditioned, the terraces of cafes and restaurants become the common refuge from a whithering heat in the evening. The long light of June and July encouraged those gathered at the outdoor tables to linger well into the night, while swallows threaded the air with their shrill whistles. Before the August dispersion, everyone in the neighborhood seemed to revel in the slower pace that the heat imposed.

Something about that paragraph just caught my eye. I came away with several thoughts.

1. The people lived in a walkable neighborhood that had services like cafes and restaurants built into it.
2. Something that could be seen as a disadvantage (not having AC), was really an important part of creating a nourishing lifestyle.
3. The heat imposed a slower tempo on everyone — no one could escape it. Community events like heat waves foster a sense of “we’re all in this together.”
4. I want to sit at those cafe tables and chat with my friends until late into the evening. Now I just need to find the right cafe, coffee house or restaurant. And time. And people to chat with.

Doing a google search on left bank cafe’s yielded this review of one venue. It can be found at this site.

When you feel like having a coffee in a classic Left Bank café setting but shudder at the thought of neighboring a group of starry-eyed tourists (which is almost inevitable if you go to either the Café de Flore or Les Deux Magots), I have an alternative suggestion.

A few blocks away from the two oh-so-atmospheric stalwarts of Parisian café life sits a slightly less frequented etablishment: Le Rouquet.

* * *

People-watching here is as good as at the other two and you’ll feel better knowing that you’re not falling into one of the two biggest tourist traps in Paris.

Food is just okay, but that’s beside the point (well, unless you’re hungry). You can simply order a coffee (around €4 at the table; €2.50 at the bar, check Hillary’s advice on how to order coffee) and consider it your license to stay indefinitely. Watch the shoppers, read the paper, write a novel - whatever you wish. It might take you a few €4 drinks to finish the novel, but basically that’s the formula.

Founded in 1922, the café barely changed since its inception. Frommers informs us that the latest renovation happened in 1954. Tant mieux, as far as we’re concerned.

Who’s up for a trip to Paris?

There’s no doubt about it: Hurricane Ike blew into town today. Clouds went scudding across the sky and the palms are waggling back and forth. To me, the trees all look like they are cheering Hurricane Ike on…”Go get ‘em, Ike!” I resent them because they seem cheery about a hurricane running by in the Atlantic and Gulf.

Seeing the mild but breezy weather made me remember a scene from the old 1950’s game show, “What’s My Line?” David and I enjoy watching this piece of pop culture history because you never know what famous celebrities will be appearing, or what antiquated jobs some of the guests will have. A month or so ago a tall, handsome airplane pilot turned out to be one of the first hurricane hunter pilots. He told the panelists in the interview following his segment that he and his fellow hunters had “discovered” a hurricane 600 miles off the coast of Florida. You see, back in those days radar couldn’t alert us to swirling masses of thunderstorms. Hurricanes could come out of nowhere and surprise those of us silly enough to live on the coast. This early hurricane hunter was greeted like a rock star for possessing the ability to warn us when we were part of a tropical system.  Today as I drove along looking at the gusty, overcast day I remembered that early hurricane hunter. Back then I never would have known that my slightly nasty day was really part of a larger hurricane Ike.

Life in the kingdom is kind of like that, too. When the clouds are scudding along in life, we feel like the miniscule showers of day to day life really have no purpose. They just annoy us. But guess what? Sometimes the thunder storms of life are actually part of a much larger, swirling and whirling weather pattern. They are part of the bigger picture. While we wait for the glamor of “doing something for God” we might be missing the very part he has for us to play.

Home.

There is no better word after a season of travel and a season of trials. Last night, David and I got to return HOME when we walked in the door of Christ Fellowship Church. It’s fashionable to ignore, deride or hide your church, but I love my home. I love Christ Fellowship and its heart for the kingdom. Last night my pastor, Tom Mullins, spoke a message that went straight to my heart. Within five minutes I remembered why I plan my trips so I can be home on a Saturday night. Here is what inspired me.

A Champion’s Legacy: Pursuing Gold

As champions of the faith we ae called to inspire, influence and impact others for eternity. — Coach Mullins

Our PASSION inspires others.

There it is…Pastor Tom’s first point refocused my thinking and clarified my attempts to walk through God’s kingdom. You see, it isn’t our talent that impresses other people, or our great looks, or the achievements we’ve racked up throughout our lifetime. It is our passion that inspires other people. We’ve all seen this to be true. Look at those of us who drink coffee: we talk coffee, drink coffee, go out of our way to taste new presentations of coffee. Sooner or later we notice that our friends all feel the same way we do. We may even begin to attend coffee cuppings, and other bizarre coffee rituals! It is our passion that intrigues other people enough to make them pick up a coffee mug and join the crew.

So what are your passions?

Your priorities will reflect your passions: how do you spend your time? What gets you excited and makes you drive across town for a new experience?

Your conversations will relate your passions. No secret here. I write Coffee Shop Journal. I read, and tell you about it. I wonder about the kingdom and feel like a five year old wobbling in high heels as I try to walk in it, but I do love the kingdom. I travel. Yes, I think I believe this. Our conversations do show our passions.

Your investments reveal your passions. Yes…money. I never met a bookstore I didn’t love. I don’t care what my cup of coffee costs (OK, maybe I do a little, but I’m really only saying that because I think I should!). Money reflects our heart. But don’t stop there on the investment train: where do you invest your time? thoughts? desires? energy?

This was only the first half of Tom’s sermon last night and today. You can watch the rest at Christ Fellowship’s website. But I was done after the first point. I want to take time out on this Sabbath day to wonder about my passion in God’s kingdom. I want to evaluate where my heart is, and make sure God has control of it. Most of all, I’m glad to be back home where my community is: the people who know me best and challenge me to keep taking the next step of faith.

Dictionary:

antidote

(?n‘t?-d?t‘)

n.

1. A remedy or other agent used to neutralize or counteract the effects of a poison.
2. An agent that relieves or counteracts: jogging as an antidote to nervous tension.

I began thinking about antidotes today after noticing a rash of commercials promoting their product as an antidote to this or an antidote to that. When you look at the definition above you realize that being an antidote is a worthwhile kingdom goal for all of us!

So many times the people sitting next to us in Starbucks or in line at the grocery store are mired in problems for which there seems to be no cure. But we know differently. We are the antidote that points them to the cure. Jesus calls us to a radical, kingdom response to the toxins in our society. We aren’t supposed to dabble with the poison, we are supposed to administer the cure.

Knowing this, where do we need to apply the kingdom antidotes to society’s toxic poisons? How about these for a starter?

• Consumerism and over-spending
• Hurry and frantic, over-scheduled speed
• Selfishness in relationships
• Greed
• Blindness to social justice
• Worry

I could go on, but that list is already a lifetime of work administering antidotes. How about you? Do you need an antidote? Are you an antidote?  I’ve convicted myself with my words today, but I’m willing to walk down the road and see what happens. Today — which is all I can control — today I will be an antidote.

This is my entry for Watercooler Wednesday at Randy Elrod’s blog. 

There is no doubt that “authentic” is the new buzzword these days. You see it as an advertising adjective everywhere you turn, and in ministry world we’ve been recreating “authentic” experiences and longing for “authentic” interactions with community. I even noticed today in shopping for a new messenger bag for my computer that I wanted it to be have an authentic, vintage appeal. Wherever this consumer-oriented, technology-laden generation turns, it now wants to be and feel authentic.

Be careful what you wish for!

Authentic comes with a price tag. Consider, for example, the Santa Barbara Starbucks where we began our day this morning versus the Java Joint, an authentic local coffee shop here in town. Both served amazing coffee. We enjoyed our time in each. But I noticed something about Java Joint: the distressed brick walls showed different colors of brick reflecting its previous lives in retail. It’s bathroom was carved out of a store room, and had rickety fixtures original to the building. The people who wandered in from the street were often just that: street people. At Starbucks the air-conditioning was running well, the bathroom smelled clean and the colors harmonized.

When you search for authentic, you may be surprised by what you find. Be prepared in ministry, design and life, to greet the flaws in “authentic” with gratitude at their originality and acceptance of their character. And when striving to be authentic, remember that the cracks in the facade aren’t scars to be hidden, they are the life God has given.

Joy comes in the morning. 3:30 in the morning. That’s the time I had to get up this morning in order to catch my 4:30 ride to the airport. David, Jillian and I are off to Santa Barbara, CA for a family wedding. Now I have to tell you, my attitude on this wedding was less than stellar. I am tired, ready to sleep in my own bed, and NOT ready to fly across the country. Last week I complained to my friend Jody about this trip (yes, I dared to complain about a trip to an ocean-side resort in Santa Barbara. Just go ahead and send me a virtual slap in the face). Jody wisely said, “You know, when you’ve prayed about your life and put it in God’s hands, sometimes he plans surprises for you when you least expect them. Like at a family wedding you are too tired to appreciate. Maybe he has a gift for you there!”

Thank you, Jody.

The pictures are blurry until I get my uploader out (does anyone else get blurry pics from their Macbook Air?), but you can see where I am sitting. Looking at the ocean, walking to a marina to eat in an outdoor cafe, driving up State Street and discovering shoppers paradise, hanging with family I rarely get to see. Oh yes, God brought joy in the morning, and unexpected refreshment in the evening. Maybe that’s the secret to living in the Kingdom: balance seasons of intense ministry with seasons of intense healing, sitting in Papa’s lap drinking up the joy.

I’ve been crazily, unbelievably busy the past two weeks with walking through God’s Kingdom with my eyes wide open. As you know, I’ve been feeling the lows of other people’s griefs, the highs of seeing my little Kylie start flapping her wings and getting some air, and the sheer fatigue of meeting the needs God puts in front of me.

Tonight I had dinner with my mom, who has memory and speech issues, my husband, and my single friend who recently lost custody of her four children and is struggling with medical issues that threaten to overwhelm her every minute of every day. Do you know what we did? We sat in Friday’s and we laughed. We laughed at the jokes my 12 year old neighbor tells every time he sees us. We laughed at the incredibly rude dad in the booth behind us who let loose with a burp that would have won any contest. We laughed at silly things, and we laughed at incredibly sad things. We enjoyed my friend’s recounting of the characters she has met in an ongoing support group. We laughed at her broke financial status, pretending to argue over the bill just because it was funny. We laughed at the charades we had to play with my mom, in order to bring her into the conversation. We even laughed when my mom said, “So what ever happened to that messy house you were having to clean up?” and my friend had to sheepishly admit that it was hers. I believe that God put a little bubble around us tonight and infused the four of us with just a bit of his crazy, undeniable joy and peace. It was the payoff for the tears I cried last week.

I was struck with one thought as we tussled over that bill at the end of dinner. My friend reached for her money, and truly wanted to pay even though I know her situation, and could never ever take her money. To my friend, that money she wanted to offer was the highest value thing she posessed. She wanted to give it to me. To me, the money for dinner was of relatively little value, a blip on the radar screen of life. I could give her that money and never think of it again. I thought back to my afternoon, an afternoon spent with three other friends working for hours on cleaning my friend’s home and preparing it for sale: a messy, thankless job that was only tolerable because it was shared and would be over soon. That time — those hours of sweat and strain — were my highest value offering. I can’t think of an offering that could possibly cost me more to give at this stage in my life.

How often do we salve our consciences by offering what comes easy to us — money, time, extra clothes, extra food — while withholding the true offering God wants from us? What is your highest value? ow does God want to use it?

This is my entry for the Watercooler Wednesday at Randy Elrod’s place.

What a weekend..a weekend that will go into our family history books and one that I’m glad to have behind me. My daughter is partying at Sonic tonight with her new freshman class and I am heading back for the long, long ride home.

After dropping her off, in classic Saunders style, David and I stopped into this garage-turned-coffee shop for an espresso to speed us home to Atlanta. While we were waiting for them to make — and remake — our drinks, we struck up a conversation with a young guy lounging at the next table. Turns out he’s a freshman at Kylie’s college, and a musician who plays percussion. By the time we left, we’d gotten into a great kingdom discussion about the difference between EE (evangelism explosion) and living in the midst of the kingdom. David and I were so impressed with the heart of this drummer with a heart. Great stop for coffee and oh so much more.

Then tonight we worshiped at one of our favorite home away from homes, Grace Fellowship Church. During worship, maybe because of our coffee stop, I was watching the drummer tonight. He was a conservative drummer, keeping everyone on that stage in the same place at the same time. He added so much to our worship experience. Without him, it would all fall apart. I decided that I would like to be a drummer. I’d like to be like our friend in the coffee shop and the guy on stage, keeping the beat steady so that other people can do their thing on stage. I have a whole new respect for drummers this week.