I've got to ask you something

but please don't be afraid

there's a promise that's heavier 

than your answer might weight

baby it's me, it's me

It's a sweet, sweet thing

standing here with you and nothing to hide

light shining down to our very insides

sharing our secrets, bearing our souls,

helping each other come clean.

-Sara Groves, "Different Kinds of Happy"

True View

Sometimes I can be too entirely philosophical that I forget "catharticisms" or little moments of catharsis are not the norm for most of God's beautiful personality creations out there. In fact, I - alongside my sister - have to come to realize we are quiet sojourners in a lot of those moments.

Those moments when things came into true view just because I dug a hole, started a fire, heard a wind chime, laid down next to him, gave water to plants, put glasses on tired eyes... Foolish or just strikingly imaginary? Sometimes both.

Put me on stage with a bow, shaking through every plow across the bridge. Watch the sun creep through the blinds and project slats onto the bed spread. In the middle of everything, they propel you backwards, making you measure memories as they compare to that moment and merge present with past with future. At times, all you know is that it feels like one of those "life to the full" moments.

And then like a puff of smoke it dissipates and you're left changed or unchanged. That's for you to decide. Many carry these like charms on a bracelet or locks on a bridge. As if a lengthy bibliography and hoarding polaroids in a shoe box makes you the person in the photograph.

So I think we just encounter and offer praise in the details. Praise God of the cold breath that crystallizes, the freedom of a Friday evening and the loosened muscles after long stretching. That in His protection, refuge and hiding place we can tromp like children in circles, laughing at their stringy hair and too-big bracelets. We can play and notice the teensy glitter specks of his Great Love.

Shame on You

Have you ever asked the question, "What do you see in me?"

I have often slumped into this question when feeling flattered beyond qualification. Sometimes it's the words I have spat out when seething under someone's grace. Like a go-to defensive stab when you have wronged someone and can't honestly believe they didn't bat an eyelash but instead forgave.

Receiving anything undeserved seems to somehow puncture pride slowly, like a needle prick in an air mattress... it takes nights of bottoming out and re-puffing yourself back up only to realize you're a steadily deflating piece of plastic.

So in John 2 when Jesus commands empty stoneware to be filled with water, which acquired the new form of wine to meet a sober need, the newlyweds and their wedding director were fumbling for a proof of origin. Previously shame-stricken, they were saved from the embarrassment of a dry reception (trust me, my husband and I had one!), and the celebration was restored by new wine. Best of all, Jesus bestowed his first miracle on a humble, small-town group of people.

Cana, the Israeli version of Marshville (where cousins marry cousins marry cousins), was far from the buzzing lights of Jerusalem, where the public scene of action would have better showcased the first sign from the Messiah. In fact, Cana, the tribe of Asher, was an obscure little corner of the country where Jesus could put honor on the lowly like Genesis promised: "He shall yield royal danties." Debuting choice wine for half-drunk Galilean country mice mid-week during a wedding festival was a move only a King could afford to make. 

Gracing the institute of marriage with his first miracle, Jesus' work reminds us of what the Father did for Adam and Eve - pardon and remove shame. He would do the same thing for us in time. Yet, His time "had not yet come," something He reminds His mother and followers multiple times. In some contexts, it seems Jesus is waiting on the infancy faith of His own disciples to mature before He begins doing miracles as a part of His ministry. And other times, it seems Jesus simply isn't ready to face what He knows is coming, for reasons and conversations only could He have with His Father. Regardless, it seems abundantly clear that at the bottom of the Galileans' wine casks, then and only there was Jesus able to intercede. Likewise, man's extremity is God's opportunity to appear for the help and relief of his people. Mercy delayed until man's dire strait, but "at the end it shall speak."

Thus when Jesus shrouded the shame of these poor newlyweds, He kicked off a ministry of law breaking, table flipping, leper touching and whore loving. In all cases, He replaced water with wine, trumping Moses' previous miracle of water into blood. For the Jews in Jesus' day, all this did was highlight and underline the difference between their law of Moses and the new Gospel of Christ.

He replaced death with life even before He encountered death Himself. He traded lack for abundance. Such that by the end, when indeed His hour had come, He was the despised and rejected like all those previously broken and diseased folk He had healed and radicalized for good. Like a friend once said, "Jesus is not a bandaid dealer, He is a heart surgeon who does not simply save face for us."

And like the animal slaughtered to clothe the naked shame of two horny and hungry gardeners, Jesus was nailed and hung so that we could all be shrouded in grace instead of shame. God the Father pronated His anger away from man toward His Son, in order to lend final grace on the shameful. In essence, God looked at the charisma, compassion, mercy, and perfection of His Son and said, "Shame on You."

Thanks be to God for doing the most unfair just act of Love. Now we drink a new wine, that will be in new casks at the ultimate, unending wedding feast of the Bride and Bridegroom at the end of time for all of eternity.  Take me there!

God's Divorce

Recently, I joined a group of ladies to study the Bible on Tuesday mornings. Majority of them lived through the 60s, some of them have teenagers, many of them have little kids and then there's me: 23, newlywed, no kids, no pets, and in their words, "Honey, enjoy it while life is still easy." Each week the cotton tops and the breast-feeding momma's convene to talk about Jesus. It's a beautiful sight.

Nineteen chapters into Matthew, we hit a grumbling rut when Jesus decided to redefine the Pharisees' idea of divorce. My group leader Gina has had a divorce, and so has Debbie and Peggy and Carol... Are they all adulterers? You could see how clarity was far from some, while others had found peace over the years. Somehow we navigated around these icebergs of scar tissue and found our ways back home to read the lesson that would give answers/cross-references/explanations for the discussion we just had.

Side note: I love the design of this study. All during the week you go out on a limb with the Holy Spirit while reading Matthew, keeping all commentaries and google searches off the table, and see where He takes you. Then the next Tuesday, we meet and discuss which trails He took us down, what dead ends we stopped at and what new fields we frolicked through in the revelatory landscape of our God's Word. No sharing which church you go to, your judgments and conclusions on this, that and the other. It's not that we're that disciplined, it's simply not allowed. Just Scripture. Then we go separate ways and read a handout given with all the answers you maybe didn't have and all the connections, truths and references you needed to come full circle. Even then, sometimes it still leaves a knot in your back.

So when Ann said, "So, is my daughter committing adultery now that she's remarried?" I was quick to think, "Of course not." But where, besides the person of Christ and knowing Him well enough to think He would say the same, do I have proof in my pudding? That had me spiraling, until I got to Jeremiah.

My new (not for sale!) husband and I began reading Jeremiah together but separate, if that makes sense. We discuss it as it germinates but read it on our own. So while taking a break from the divorce dialogue, I flipped over to chapter 2 only to hear God saying, "What did your ancestors find fault with in me that they drifted so far from me?" Is it just me or do you hear the desperate plea of an abandoned husband? He is a heartbroken Lover. I began to sob.

As I've grown older, when I see my dad as a man who has pains and troubles yet still loves fully and still believes there is Truth to be had, I cry. Now as a wife, when I see my husband as a man, who works for our good, who serves with every fiber, who takes off each garment to be vulnerable and to love, who fights the world's candy-coated lies, instead nourishing His soul on Bread that gives Life, I nearly weep. It's too good, it's too tender, it's too Christ. This is to see man elevated to new heights of his being because he is doing as he is told: "Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for?"

What joy we have to witness Christ's cross made effective as believers now carry theirs! As heart-wrenching as it is to see man sanctified into truer form, Christ's form, what greater breakage must our heart experience when we see our God articulating His Supremacy in our terms: human emotions.

There is greater understanding when we read Scripture in His voice to us as a grand narrative of an eternity-long courtship, especially with the divorce debacle. What the Pharisees clearly missed was the temporary concession Moses made for hard heartedness and not for the convenience of men, but to protect women. It was not God's purpose. Divorce reveals what is true of every one of us. Sin binds the three branches from which God demands love: our hearts, our minds, our souls.

So, on to Matthew, Jesus changes nothing, instead keeps the protective measure for women, and actually re-illustrates marriage, knowing full well His soon-to-be-died-upon cross was His deathbed for His marital love of the church. We see that God rejected divorce then because it damaged His picture of His own faithful love for His people! He hates it because it causes suffering, a deeply scarring, deserting, innocence-stripping, covenant-breaking kind of suffering. He has experienced it!

And while we're on a roll, let's address on more thing. Perhaps this is why women are given protection. As the Hosea prostitute lover Israel was, crawling back to their Magnificent God after whittling mini-god figurines out of balsa wood, He withholds His wrath and instead embraces His inglorious, prodigal people. ONLY GOD is capable of this grace. God knew no mere mortal man could ever reroute such anger to show grace until Jesus came to buy us the ability and rewire hearts. Thus Moses' concession.

So what about Ann's daughter? Now knowing God's heart behind what we initially read as His condemnation, which believers and innocent divorcees find themselves pinned beneath, we reread Jesus' command in new light. No believer who truly repents should consider themselves as living in a state of adultery. Even further, not all who are divorced are guilty of the sin of divorce. He said, "In this world, you will have trouble..." and then "Take heart! I have overcome the world."

We stand victoriously healed. In fact, we have a compensating joy for the world's bitter pill of suffering and our own hard heartedness. As a young married girl with no authority outside of Christ to even address this topic, I have been encouraged by these women around me as they shared a closing truth last Tuesday: "Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It's your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it." 

First Course of Lamb

Knee deep in a book given me by my new brother, I am cooking transformatively and philosophizing like I did my last semester in Tyson's class. This is not a book for the lighthearted. While most of the progress I've made the past few days has been accomplished waiting at one of our many state governmental offices (DMV, car title, social security... aaah the reality of the name change), the author ever-so-convivially transcribes your preconceived notions. At the beginning of chapter 10, he acknowledged something I had been feeling: "If you are still with me at this point, it can only be because you are a serious drinker of being: a man who will walk back ten paces to smell privet in bloom; a woman who loves to rap sound turnips with her knuckles." Prey tell, how did you know I enjoy a good turnip overture?

While I plan to divulge a bit more later, for now take this...

     "Creation is God's living room, the place where He sits down and relishes the exquisite taste of His decoration. Things, therefore, as things, are inseparable from God, as God. Separate the secular from the sacred, and the world becomes an idol shrouded in interpretations; creation becomes too meaningful to make love to. As religion devoured life for the pagan, so significance consumes the world of the secularist. Delectability goes by the boards, dullness reigns and earth becomes a sitting duck for confidence men and tin-fiddle manufacturers of all sorts. Poor earth, poor stars, poor flesh. Without a Giver, they never become themselves."

#300: the bedroom

Inspired by my good friend Kelsey's interior design prowess and simultaneous prompting by curious friends and family for a look at our uptown bungalow, I've decided to do a mini-series of posts much like one of my favorite websites: Apartment Therapy. Spoiler alert: we live in 800 square feet of 1-bedroom-1-bathroom-corner-unit paradise, so there won't be much to show. However, we are quite proud of the work that has gone into making it look our own.

So a bit of background on Superman Groves (code for Brian, my husband): if you can dream it, he can build it. Last night we broke ground on our newest project which takes up our entire living room (more to come!). As the girl who can swing a hammer, use a measuring tape and hold my own with the cordless drill, I make a pretty handy assistant... but I am convinced this man could take a caulk gun and his router and remodel the Taj Mahal.

Long before I moved in, Brian began putting his touches on what he considered a stock apartment. Obliterating our lease contract with no hope for a return on our deposit, we now have custom-built bookshelves (installed in the wall), a walnut King-size bed frame, upholstered headboard and ottoman, bathroom shelving, and a beautiful color palate on our walls. I look to him with intense admiration and desire now living in the space he created and customized for us in which to build our lives together. What an easy environment to fully experience the truth and reality of our future hope that we are going to a place that has been prepared for us!

That being said, let us begin. Today: the bedroom!

How about that red blanket? It all started with Ol' Glory, our American Flag throw from Faribault Mills, an American Woolen Mills company that got their start making blankets during the Civil War. Brian gave me Ol' Glory last year for Christmas and thus began our picnicking and blanket acquisition habits. Last year, J.C. Penny was selling them like hot cakes on super sale... Alas not anymore. Every few months we would save up and buy another. Big Red is a king-size blanket that found its way at the foot of our bed. And yes, they all have names.

Last year (note: when we were still dating), Brian asked me to write his last name on a piece of paper. Thinking not much of it, "Sure," and I wrote "Groves" in my thoughtless lowercase cursive. What you see above the bed is the product. 

Bedding

1. Cream Duvet and Shams - Pottery Barn

2. Ikat Stripe Sheets - West Elm

3. Big Red - Faribault Mill 

4. "Always Kiss Me Good Night..." Pillows - Gift from a dear friend

Lighting 

1. Floral Toile Lamp Shades - Threshold Brand by Target 

2. Clear Turned Glass Lamp Bases - Threshold Brand by Target

Headboard - Homemade 

Bed Frame - Homemade 

Side Tables - Thrifted and Hand-me-downs

Accent Wall Paint - Valspar Lariat Tan

The Groves' Grid

As Brian likes to say, we're tier 2 hipsters... Instagram was too mainstream hipster for us, so we had to go a step further and join "the grid." Basically there's a photo camera app called VSCO cam, which just stands for Visual Supply Company. They also make and sell photoshop software and other things, but their iPhone app has some wonderful filters and photo editing capabilities. The company has an online hosting site for your photos... add a caption, upload and you're done. No one "likes" them, shares them, or tweets them. It's a portfolio of sorts.

All that to say, we have one! I listed the link to the right under "The Groves" in hopes it would be a good way for friends and family to check in with our daily life every now and then:

olivegroves.vsco.co

Named Anew

Soon -  as in 3 days from now - my nominal identity will undergo a change. As I vow a covenant that I hope will last 100 years, I willfully and excitedly lose my old self and put on a new. For a metaphor junkie, this a pretty appealing transformation.

My mother-to-be (my affectionate wording for mother-in-law) asked if I was at all sad to part with it. Growing up, Hyatt was a sort of synonym for toughness. We actually have a home video of my sister when she was no more than 3 years old with stringy blonde curls, naked, playing duck-duck-goose in our living room. She stumps her toe, begins to whimper into a cry. Very determinately, in his little-girl voice, my dad says, "Noooo. Don't cry, you're a Hyatt." And thus a name embodied a family attitude that continues to this day.

But it's time. I feel like I've molted my skin, and I'm naked and baking in the sun. It's time to grow a new skin. I'm past the point of being ready for this transition. Oddly enough, before I fell in love with him, I loved him. That's a proclamation not many can herald. But when you meet someone who is everything you knew to hope for, then you realize they're everything you prefer, and they equally enjoy you... well there's not much else to do but promise to make it last a lifetime sealed with a few kisses. Taking on a name with that kind of a story is an honor to say the least.

And so soon I shall be the newest Olivia Groves. I say "newest," because he has a 10-year-old little diva, rainbow-looming cousin who has very insistently self-identified herself to me as "Olivia #1," followed by, "You can be my back up!" Nevertheless, I join the ranks of a pretty incredible namesake.

Maybe one day I'll change how I say it. Olivia may age into Livy as I wrinkle and grow gray. For now, my significance of an "olive tree" morphs from my singular entity rather to a whole grove of them. As two become one, as we multiply through ministry and build a family, the grove will grow. From it many heads will be crowned, in it many quiet days will be spent, with it we will furnish and feed as each of us are pressed and poured into the finest of oil. Pardon me for perhaps outstretching this imagery, but I can't help but think I am gaining the most incredibly symbolic nominal treasure!

Enjoy the blog makeover!

O.G.