Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

On Grace and Ketchup

Forgive me for being sacrilegious, but every time I sing “Jesus Paid It All,” I can’t help but think about ketchup.

My husband played his bass at church last week, and we sang the lines of that old classic spiritual:

Jesus paid it all
All to him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow

While other people were no doubt musing about spiritual things like substitutionary atonement, I was instantly transported to the teenage version of myself. On a big yellow school bus, no less.

I was sixteen, and just a few months prior, I’d made the first major clothing purchase of my life: a beautiful brown suede leather jacket. I’d had my eye on it for a long time, and after saving up my heard-earned babysitting money, I finally made the purchase.

leathercoat

I felt pretty cool wearing it to high school (even if I was mortified to still be riding the bus). One morning I was minding my own business, doing some finishing touches on my homework on the way to school, when all of a sudden I heard a sickening splat. I looked down at the arm of my precious caramel-colored jacket. It was smeared with ketchup, the casualty of crossfire between two punky boys who were apparently having a post-breakfast food fight.

I was, in all the drama of teenagerdom, devastated.

Later Mom and I took the coat to the dry cleaner’s. The lady matter-of-factly told me they’d be able to get the ketchup out but the coat would never be the same. I was crushed. But I also knew I wouldn’t be able to stand smelling vaguely like McDonald’s for any length of time, so I handed over the jacket.

They were right. The coat was never the same again. It lost its velvety finish, and the discolored spot where the ketchup hit its mark never went away.

When I think about the stain of my sin, I have the same fear—that the stain will never come out. And that even if does, I’ll never be the same again. So I hold back from going to the only one who can make me clean again. I try in vain to mask the ketchupy stench that trails me wherever I go.

At the risk of stating the obvious, Jesus’ cleansing abilities are infinitely more effective than the dry cleaner’s. Sin has indeed left its crimson mark on us, but it’s no match for his forgiveness. He washes us white as snow, and leaves us better than he found us.

“Come now, let’s settle this,”
says the Lord.
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
I will make them as white as snow.
Though they are red like crimson,
I will make them as white as wool.”
—Isaiah 1:18

Whatever marred spot you are trying to hide, it’s time to come and settle this. There is no sin too great, no stain too deep, that he cannot wipe it out.

But even so, if you ever find yourself on the school bus with punky kids, I’d advise you to leave the leather jacket at home.

 

 

Book of the Month Club for August

prototype-coverCongratulations to Kelli for winning the free book giveaway for July! You can read more about our discussion of quirky characters and Seattle and Antarctica here.

And now, announcing the book of the month for August: Prototype by Jonathan Martin.

Here’s the description, taken from the back of the book:

 Jesus is God and we are not. Most of us get that. But what we don’t always understand is that God loves us just as much as He does His Son. Many times in the Old Testament, God refers to human beings as His “beloved.” But when God called Jesus His beloved, Jesus did something truly remarkable: He believed Him. He lived every moment of His life fully convinced of His identity. And unlike every other person in history . . . He never forgot.

In Prototype, Jonathan Martin creates a vivid understanding of what it means to be beloved by God. To completely trust, as Jesus did, that God loves you. To live life without fear, confident in your identity and purpose. To handle life’s wounds as Jesus did, and to wake every day with a deep awareness of God’s presence.

Martin reveals a startling truth at the heart of the gospel: Jesus is our prototype. And as we discover how the knowledge of being God’s beloved changed everything for Jesus—how it set Him free to live out his purpose and love God, others, and the world—it will begin to do the same for us.

I hope you’ll join us!

{Remember—there will be a free book giveaway for one lucky commenter!}

Book of the Month Discussion: Where’d You Go, Bernadette

whered_you_go_bernadette_coverThanks to everyone who participated in our virtual book club (which I introduced here). July’s selection was Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple.

Discussion #1: Quirky Style
I enjoyed the unique format of the storytelling in this book. It’s part epistolary (with the letters and the documents Bee discovers telling part of the story) and part narrative, and I think the combination works well. I appreciate that the firsthand documents help us piece together clues alongside Bee, while the narrative parts gives us a window into Bee’s thoughts and personality.

What did you think of the style? Did it work for you?

Discussion #2: 3-D Characters
The characters in this novel felt quirky but real to me. Case in point: Bernadette is clearly disturbed and unstable, but she’s still lovable, and we gradually get a peek into more layers of her character as the story progresses. Audrey seems to be annoying and one-dimensional at first, but she turns out to be the one who saves Bernadette, and we see her soften from her judgmental, shallow ways. And then there’s Bee—the smart, precocious heroine who manages to unravel the mystery and carry the load of an adult role in her search for her mom.

One of the interesting about these characters was how they seemed to coexist side by side but in their own separate worlds—it’s like they are somehow lonely together. At one point Bee says:

I don’t know if it’s possible to feel everything all at once, so much that you think you’re going to burst. . . . I felt so full of love for everything. But at the same, I felt so hung out to dry there, like nobody could ever understand. I felt so alone in this world, and so loved at the same time. (p. 199)

What did you think of the characters? Did you have a favorite? Was there a character you couldn’t stand?

Discussion #3: Seattle as a Character
Seattle is practically a character in the novel—and a dynamic one at that, as we see the city through Bernadette’s eyes. At first she appreciates how refreshingly different it is from California, but eventually she starts to resent everything about the city—the weather, the crunchy granola types, the Microsoft culture—and Bernadette practically blames the city for driving her away. But in the stark, unforgiving cold desert climate of Antarctica—so opposite from Seattle—Bernadette starts to appreciate what she left behind in the Emerald City.

Do you think this story would work in another setting? Did the portrayal of Seattle ring true to you?

Discussion #4: The Mind of an Artist
It was heartbreaking to finally unravel what had happened to Bernadette’s architectural masterpiece. Here’s what Bernadette says about it in her letter to Bee:

By now you’ve learned that I’m a certified genius. . . . Really, who wants to admit to her daughter that she was once considered the most promising architect in the country, but now devotes her celebrated genius to maligning the driver in front of her for having Idaho plates? (p. 316)

How do you think you would have responded if someone had destroyed your life’s work like that? Do you know any artists? What happens to them if they don’t create?

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
I would give this book 4 stars for the ever-precocious Bee and the creative storytelling.

What rating would you give this book?

{Remember: There will be a free book giveaway for one lucky commenter!}

 

Fireflies of the Soul

At first glance, it may seem that God sprinkled the Midwest with the leftovers when he was distributing nature’s gifts. We can’t see the purple mountains’ majesty from here, and our shorelines boast no waving palm trees. We don’t waken to the sound of crashing ocean waves or plunging waterfalls, and our rest stops don’t sell postcards of stately lighthouses.

 

But over the years I’ve come to suspect that God had a few secrets up his sleeve when he made the heartland, a few gifts to compensate for an otherwise lackluster showing. These gifts aren’t big or loud or dramatic, and only those with a discerning eye notice them. But once you discover them, like so many clues on a treasure hunt, you just may find yourself settling in and calling the place home.

 

There are the sunny daffodils that peek sleepy heads out of the ground after a long, cold winter. There’s the never-ending canvas of sky, alternately dotted with cotton-ball clouds and painted with fiery oranges and pinks as the sun dips below the horizon. There’s the beautiful dying of the trees as they explode in a final display of color before hunkering down for the winter.

 

And then there are the fireflies that make their appearance on hot summer evenings. Maybe most of all, the fireflies.

 

firefly1

 

My friend and I were walking along the trail at dusk the other night, and it was one of those evenings that succumbed to nightfall in a whisper of a second. One moment we could see the path beneath our feet, and the next we were treading into darkness.

 

Maybe the cover of evening makes it easier for truth to leak out, but it was in that sacred moment of dusk-to-darkness that my friend’s secret spilled over the edges. Her happy, surprising news that just couldn’t stay bottled up inside her anymore.

 

The words were barely off her lips when the fireflies ignited in a symphony of lights, illuminating the sky with their pulsing. Just one moment earlier they were nowhere to be found, yet with the single flip of a switch, we were surrounded by thousands of tiny flashlights, small enough to fit in the palm of our hands.

 

And I wondered: Had they appeared out of nowhere, on cue somehow? Or had they been there all along, and I just couldn’t see them without the curtain of darkness?

 

firefly4

 

Most of the time I fear the darkness, shrink away from it, attempt to push it back. But what if some of those secret bursts of light God has hidden in my heart can only show up against the backdrop of darkness?

 

I don’t want to miss anything in this ordinary, glorious landscape of my Midwestern soul. So if the darkness needs to come as a backdrop to those little divine beacons, then let it come. Let it come, so I can see the flickering light, so I can hold it in the palm of my hand. I don’t want to miss a single firefly of the soul.

 

“We do not truly see light, we only see slower things lit by it, so that for us light is on the edge—the last thing we know before things become too swift for us.”

—C. S. Lewis

Would You Buy a One-Way Ticket to Mars?

Here’s the opening of an article I wrote for Christianity Today’s her.meneutics site this week about a rather unlikely combination of topics: a Mars expedition, the desert fathers, and commitment.

***

mars

Wanted: Adventurous individuals who are willing to settle new lands, survive in harsh conditions, subsist on few resources, and—quite possibly—make history.

 

Our generation’s version of Lewis and Clark‘s transcontinental expedition or Magellan’s seafaring journey has its charts set for a previously uninhabited planet: Mars. What once would have been a plot for a sci-fi flick is now a job opening.

 

The Dutch company Mars One is currently accepting applications for a mission to Mars…with a big catch. This trip requires applicants to sign on for a one-way ticket.

***

You can read the rest of the article here: Who Would Buy a One-Way Ticket to Mars?

Where Is God?

This summer our small group is taking a break from our usual routine of studying and discussing and making our way through a book together. In an attempt to go deeper with each other, we decided that at each gathering we’d have two people share about what God has done in their lives.

 

All the stories are different—some of us grew up knowing about God; some of us didn’t meet him until later in life. Some of us went down such dark paths we probably shouldn’t be here to tell about it; some of us were more subtle in our sins of choice. But there’s one thing we all have in common: we’re all broken and in desperate need of grace.

 

As we started sharing our stories, we noticed a pattern woven throughout each one. As we looked back, the places we could see God at work most clearly were the lowest points in our lives—our most grievous sins, our darkest seasons of failure, our struggles through grief and loss and loneliness.

 

After one person finished her testimony, there was a moment of sacred silence. Finally Daniel broke in: “Isn’t it amazing to think how we’re hemmed in and held, even when make the wrong choice . . . even when we don’t do the right thing?”

 

I thought of the three men in the Old Testament who were thrown into the fiery furnace (Daniel 3)—how if I’d been in their shoes, I’d no doubt have asked God to take me out of the fire. But as it turned out, God was right there in the midst of those flames.

fire2

And I thought of Peter walking on the water to Jesus as the storm raged around him (Matthew 14). Scaredy-cat that I am, I surely would have asked God to calm the storm. But Jesus surprised Peter with something even more profound: he was right there in the midst of the waves.

storm3

 

So what about my own life? I beg for the fire to be quenched, for the storm to be stilled. Sometimes he does just that. But other times Jesus is right there with me—in the midst of the flames, in the midst of the waves.

 

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me. . . .
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
—Psalm 139:1, 5

 

Even in the storms and the fire—maybe especially in the storms and the fire—we see the face of Jesus. It’s then that we are hemmed in, held.

 

God is here.

Alena’s Story

Two of my great passions in life are helping other people share their stories and seeing God’s extraordinary grace at work through ordinary people. So when I was given the opportunity to be part of the Gospel Stories project at my church, it felt like a beautiful collision of those passions.

 

Today I’d like to share Alena’s inspiring story with you.

 

alena

Alena’s Story

When we experience pain—whether the pain is physical or emotional—most of us fall to our knees with the same agonizing question on our lips: Why, Lord?

 

At the age of 16, Alena asked the same question when she found herself in constant physical pain, battling a condition that doctors couldn’t seem to nail down and wondering if she’d ever be able to dance again. Why did she have to go through something like this at such a young age? Where was God in the midst of her suffering?

 

It was only when she surrendered to the Lord that she experienced a life-transforming truth: even if God never changed her pain, he was changing her heart. This is the story of how the gospel met Alena at her point of deepest pain and taught her to dance again.

 

O Lord my God, I called out to you for help, and you healed me. . . . You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
—Psalm 30:2, 11

 

Click here to watch Alena’s story in her own words.

 

Sweet Sundays, Part 5: Multitaskers Anonymous

sweet_sundays_artworkHello, my name is Stephanie, and I’m a multitasker.

I haven’t always been this way. When I was a kid, I’d get so caught up in whatever I was doing that I was prone to lose all track of time and occasionally even miss my bus stop. Maybe it comes with the territory of adulthood or womanhood, or maybe it’s exacerbated by the various technologies itching at our fingertips, but whatever the reason, it can feel foreign and disorienting to only do one thing at a time. (Let alone rest!)

The other day I was reading Psalm 92 (while finishing my breakfast and drinking my coffee and doing the laundry), and I was struck by the epigraph at the beginning of the psalm: “A song to be sung on the Sabbath Day.”

And it got me to thinking: What is so special about music that God would have us set aside certain songs for the Sabbath?

One of the bonus gifts I received with the Daniel-package is the gift of music. On any given day, our home is graced with strains of live music—anything from the Beatles to Bob Dylan to worship music. Daniel plays the bass guitar for our church band, and on the Sundays he goes early for practice, I like to go with him. In the spirit of efficient multitasking, I usually I bring along something I’m working on—a book to read, a letter to write, some scribbles I’ve been wanting to put to paper.

But after reading Psalm 92, I decided to just do one thing on a recent Sunday: soak in the songs for the Sabbath Day.

As the melodies and chords washed over me like so much grace, it occurred to me that music engages our hearts in a way that short-circuits our swirling minds and goes straight to our souls. The church father Athanasius suggested that God paired the words of the Psalms with melody to serve as a metaphor of sorts. Music, he said, serves as “a symbol of the spiritual harmony in a soul.” As a Christian sings praises, Athanasius said, he “brings rhythm to his soul and leads it, so to speak, from disproportion to proportion.”

While I sat there listening, I noticed something interesting about the rest notes. As lovely as the music is, the rests make you appreciate the melody all the more.

Just like Sundays.

It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to the Most High.
It is good to proclaim your unfailing love in the morning,
your faithfulness in the evening,
accompanied by a ten-stringed instrument, a harp,
and the melody of a lyre.*
—Psalm 92:1-3

 *Or an ice-blue Fender bass guitar.

10 Grammar Saves in 10 Years

I’m not quite sure how I blinked and 10 years passed, but last month I woke up and realized it had been a whole decade since I jumped into the world of editing and publishing. It has been a good decade, and in honor of the mile marker, I thought I’d share with you 10 of the errors I’ve stopped from going into print over the past 10 years.

{Note: I have omitted the authors and titles of these books to protect the relevant parties, but rest assured, these are all real quotes from real books.}

grammar3

  1. My daddy was a steal worker, and my granddaddy was a steal worker.
    [Sounds like a kind of shady business to me.]
  2. Gelatins 2:16 clearly states that human deeds can never save us.
    [Shockingly, the book of Gelatins made it through spell-check but not canonization.]
  3. I was blessed by marring a Christian lady and having three kids.
    [The blessing doesn’t quite sound mutual when you put it that way.]
  4. As a society, we’ve developed an erroneous belief system that is about as subtle as a rattle snack.
    [Hmm, must be a Southern delicacy, up there with fried okra.]
  5. Joshua 2: Rehab helps the Israelite spies
    [The earliest evidence of a successfully implemented 12-step program . . . ]
  6. But the Pharisees hardened their hearts toward Jesus’ wisdom. . . . They planned to deny pubicly that he was Messiah.
    [I have nothing further to say.]
  7. This relationship is called “the hookup,” referring to repeated one nightstands.
    [I’m getting a mental image of row after row of identical bedroom furniture. . . .]
  8. Does that mean God wants us to never plop down on the coach?
    [I’m not sure he addresses that particular issue, but it does sound rather uncomfortable for all parties.]
  9. “You don’t realize that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blond and naked” (Revelation 3:17).
    [Apparently, God prefers brunettes.]
  10. From an endnote source: (Colorado Springs: Multnomah Boobs; 2009), 275.
    [With apologies to the lovely people who work at Multnomah.]

ten_grammar_saves “There are two typos of people in this world: those who can edit and those who can’t.” —Jarod Kintz

“Only Southerners have taken horsewhips and pistols to editors about the treatment or maltreatment of their manuscript. This—the actual pistols—was in the old days, of course, we no longer succumb to the impulse. But it is still there, within us.” —William Faulkner

Announcing the Book of the Month for July

First of all, congratulations to Sarah for winning a free book for last month’s book discussion! You can read about our conversation about baby bath photos, soapboxes, and skeleton airing here.

 

And the book of the month for July is . . . . Where’d You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple.

bernadette2

 

Here’s the description from the jacket of her book:

 

Bernadette Fox is notorious. To her Microsoft-guru husband, she’s a fearlessly opinionated partner; to fellow private-school mothers in Seattle, she’s a disgrace; to design mavens, she’s a revolutionary architect, and to 15-year-old Bee, she is a best friend and, simply, Mom.

Then Bernadette disappears. It began when Bee aced her report card and claimed her promised reward: a family trip to Antarctica. But Bernadette’s intensifying allergy to Seattle—and people in general—has made her so agoraphobic that a virtual assistant in India now runs her most basic errands. A trip to the end of the earth is problematic.

To find her mother, Bee compiles email messages, official documents, secret correspondence—creating a compulsively readable and touching novel about misplaced genius and a mother and daughter’s role in an absurd world.

 bernadette1

 

Remember, there will be a FREE BOOK GIVEAWAY for one lucky commenter!