Heather J Jonsson

April 28, 2022

Resurrection People Living in an Easter World

As I have come to this side of Easter, something new grew in my heart. I gave my mind space for holy imagination, and painted strokes to fill in the picture on the pages. My heart journeyed through Maundy Thursday’s agonizing dread and anticipation. Friday’s harrowing grief of brutal torture and crucifixion. Onto silent Saturday. And finally, resurrection Sunday.

Like little vases on a windowsill, stuffed with water and wildflowers, the capacity of emotions burgeon within each day. Each vase holding a million molecules of stories. Their stories. Our stories. Because even when the story line differs, the emotions flow the same.

The dread of a biopsy or an illness. The march of grief in the wake of death. Silence in the waiting. Do you feel the drumbeat deep in your soul?

And, lest we forget, the celebration of life.

That last one is essential, because resurrection people are powerful people. We can be pulled from one vase and stuffed into another, and not whither. So what is the secret? Where do we find this vibrancy?

From streams of living water! Flowing deep in the caverns of our hearts. As we are planted and replanted, the water remains the same. Whether we are planted in the vase of seeming silence, or that of agonizing dread, we can drink deep and flourish.

I don’t want to hold out false hope. To be sure, pain always stings. I have known it sitting in a courtroom filled with dread. And times felt like God’s silence betrayed me. An abundant life is not void of sadness. But an abundant life is always overbrimming with hope that flourishing is possible.

So today, remember to drink deeply. He is a life-giver, in every planting season!

“Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:38

April 14, 2022

We Promise the Best is Yet to Come, but What if Tomorrow Holds Tragedy?

We sit in the middle of Holy Week. That place between enthusiastic Hosannas and the crucifixion of a friend and son, teacher and miracle worker. As if following the bullet across the stage of Hamilton, time slows down. This space encourages us to look around. Notice. To hear the whispers of unspoken anxiety, and dreams put on ice.

In this space, the disciples beckon me. I read the written word of Scripture. And I pencil in the unwritten emotions. Confusion. Hope. Distress. Love. All jumbled up together like atoms bouncing around under pressure. It really is no wonder the disciples fell asleep in the garden. Their eyelids certainly carried the exhaustion of their hearts.

I’m also thinking about a phrase that gets tossed around in Christian circles these days. In fact, I heard it this morning in a devotional. “The Best is Yet to Come.” But, in a world of cancer and car accidents, wars and heart attacks, what if tomorrow, or, perhaps tonight, the best is not to come? Where does that leave us?

Smack dab in the middle of Holy Week.

So, let me ask, at what point should we tell the disciples, “The best is yet to come?” While they huddled in fear after Jesus’ death? The resurrection certainly is amazing news, but for 3 years Jesus was a constant, physical presence, and he is about to leave them. Yes, Jesus’ ascension ushered in a new Presence, but, like babies on wobbly knees, did the disciples learn to walk with the Spirit? Just like us?

Should we tell them while they watch Steven stoned, or hear that James was beheaded? As Paul said in Acts 20:23, “I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me.”

Perhaps, nestled into the American Dream, we so desperately want “the best to come” because, at some level, we don’t believe heaven is better than what we have right now. Perhaps our understanding of what’s best is fundamentally flawed.

If any of this rings true to you, let’s flip the script. Together. Here is what I journaled this week:

Hardships are yet to come, but the best is already here. Merciful. Gracious. Love.

And when the worst hangs me out to dry upon the desert winds, I will trust Jesus’ love will hold me fast. In stark contrast to this often times brittle world, I know the bountiful love of Jesus will find me. The best is truly the Lord.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, You are the best. Forgive me when I get this wrong.

Once we get this straight, then we are more apt to flourish in the desert. To hold out hope for grace and beauty enough for today. Like 2 loaves and 5 fish, to feast on God’s Word and be satisfied. So much so, that there are still basketfuls leftover.

PS – One more thing, look for the little desert flowers that daringly push their way through dried cracks. They are found tucked in sunsets and snuggles, a good cup of coffee and a good morning stretch. This is certain to bring a smile. And goodness knows we need them every day!

Pressing towards heaven with you!

April 1, 2022

Beloved are You

Beloved are you who, like Eve, saw the vine dripping with delicacies and plucked it’s forbidden fruit. Many nights you have grieved a harvest stained by your past. Yet you rise from the ashes, clothed in garments of Righteousness, bearing the name, mother of the living.

Beloved are you who, like Sarah, snickered to yourself when you heard God’s lavish promises. Because month-by-month, and year-after-year, unwanted blood flowed carrying the hope of life in it’s tide. But you, wrapped in self-protection, slowly allowed God to untangle the knots of your heart. Unfurled, you wave the banner of God who delights in keeping his promises.

Beloved are you who, like Hagar, broke the bonds of abuse only to find yourself baking in the heat of a sun-scorched dead end. But God found you in the desert where you pain had cast you, and like an intimate companion you gave Him a name; you are the God who sees me.

Beloved are you who, like Naomi, are left a widow, adrift in a swirling dark ocean. You are a truth teller, and squarely place the blame upon the one who can quiet this wind and the waves. “Call me Mara,” you whisper, “because the Almighty, the El Shaddai, my All-Sufficient One, has made my life very bitter.” Yet, the waves of love and the raft of all-sufficiency pushed you to a shore of grace. And you chose hope in the face of death.

Beloved are you who, like Deborah, lead with justice. When others did not rise up to the challenge, you stepped over your fear, picked up your sword, and wielded it for righteousness. And beloved are you who, like Jael, used your cunning wisdom and mapped a shrewd plan. Masquerading as a safe harbor, victory lay in your grasp. Your courage is a beacon of light to follow.

Beloved are you who, like Martha, offer your hands and feet with the hidden sacred work of home and hospitality. You, who nurture children, kneed the bread, soak the lentils, and whose eyes fill with tears as each onion is sliced and each small memory is tucked into the secret pockets of your heart. Many generations arise and call you blessed.

Beloved are you who, like Mary, weep at the feet of death. The treasure once stored securely within, is now exposed, bruised, and beaten. Yet death is no victor. You rest cocooned in the certain grace for our today and hope for our tomorrow. For one day, the brightness of a thousand suns will call us home to be forever with those we love.

Beloved are you, daughter of the King, when you are trapped in a nightmare. Beloved are you in your fanfare of triumphs, and when the stars of your journey align in a perfect constellation. Beloved are you when your story is as twisted as barbwire, and your soul feels as warped as a battered house on the seaside. Beloved are you from the rising of your sun to it’s setting.

Beloved are you.

Beloved are you.

March 4, 2022

Hearts on Ukraine

Only a few times over the past week have I cracked my heart open to feel the weight of what is happening in Ukraine. Most of the time I protect my heart from the full capacity of this sorrow, because “boots on the ground hits different when you have skin in the game.”

Not that I have any skin in this particular battle, but emotions are stored like chips in our hardware; so, for a military spouse it is too easy to go back. To feel the depth of anxiety and fear that perhaps floods my heart more decisively now that I don’t need to pull on my big girl pants and be brave for the crowd.

Which, by the way, is not wrong. For the sake of my children and the people we serve, I must stand with courage on the homefront. However, I can look at photos of despairing women and children and in a small way understand the complexity of their distress. I can cry along with them and hold their fear as my own.

So, my dears, in the wake of our distress this is what we are going to do: We are going to open our hearts to feel the agonizing sorrow, and then we are going to step out and love deeply. We are going to be the boots on the ground of our communities because we have skin in this game. Our families. Our neighbors. Our friends. Our co-workers.

We are not going to love in pixelated squares or follows, but we are going to be the actual hands and feet of Jesus to our actual neighbors.

We are going to listen to Faye’s story about standing alongside the suffering and we are going to SHOW UP for our people. It doesn’t take gusto or exorbitant time. But it does take intentionality and discipline to choose love.

And in case you think I’m merely preaching what you must do better, I’m actually telling the world what I must do better. Together is not only better, together is the only way forward. So together it must be, in love and service.

I charge us to walk through our day and listen to our people. To ask the question, who needs tangible love right now? To see them and be the boots on the ground they so desperately need! You cannot reach the world, but you can reach your neighbor.

February 24, 2022

Trusting God When My Emotions Don’t

I hate to fly.

Not in the sense, “I hate to fly because airports are annoying and rude customers are aggravating.” But rather, I hate to fly because I might, best case scenario, throw up all over the person sitting next to me, or, worse case scenario, have a full blown panic attack causing the plan to divert for a medical emergency landing. (Thankfully, neither of these scenarios have happened. I always make it to the bathroom to throw up.)

Here’s the thing, everyone tells me that statistically I am far better off flying that driving. I emotionally don’t believe them. So when I fly I must trust the trained pilot and the mind-boggling physics, even though my emotions are running haywire.

In the same way, the scriptures teach us that trust trumps emotions every time!

I read Psalm 13 this morning. The Psalmist is a wreck. “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever: Day after day I have sorrow in my heart. How long will my enemy triumph over me?”

BUT…

“But I trust in your unfailing love.”

Statistically, God is batting 1000. When I look back on my life, He has always been faithful!! 100 percent of the time!

Trust is not always an emotion. Often, trust is a declaration when our emotions run haywire. So, when my situation feels fraught with danger, or my soul is shaken with sorrow, I can still declare my trust.

And you can, too!

February 15, 2022

When Life Feels Uncertain

Standing on the banks of uncertainty, I, like Jacob, wrestled with God. I anguished in the not knowing. I wrung my hands over my unknown future. Would the other side of the river hold tender celebration or my worst nightmare? Weary and fearful, I looked into the dark unknown and wrestled God with my doubts and questions.

My prayer list right now is full of women standing on the banks of uncertainty. One friend struggles to find a lifeline as she navigates her mental health. Another wades through the torrent of doctor’s appointments and chemotherapy. And a dear Mom feels like she is drowning under the stress and grief of her teenage son’s addictions.

Oh, the weight and the temptation to despair!

But then I remember Jacob. I remember his wrestling and his plea for blessing. And I remember the years before the Jordan River scene; how he fled from his brother, the deceiver becoming the deceived. The world must have felt twisted and wearisome and unsatisfactory.

Yet, as dawn broke wide open upon his wrestling, Jacob was a different man. A blessed man. A man with a new name. But a man with a limp.

As we watch Jacob hobble across the River and into the arms of forgiveness, I wonder at a God who stood with Jacob on the banks of uncertainty and gave Himself to Jacob’s wrestling. A God who chose to become weak so that, in Him, we could be deemed a victor!

So if you are standing on the bank of uncertainty, find freedom to be like Jacob, who wrestled with God from the setting of the sun until it nearly rose. It’s really exhausting work. Let that be said. And you will walk out with a limp touched by love. Let that not be swept under the rug.

But once you have wrestled on the banks of uncertainty, and hobbled out across the River, may your limp be a reminder you saw God face-to-face. Just as the rising sun is a beacon of hope, may this truth shine bright: God became weak so that in our weakness He might prove His strength!

You will walk with a limp, we all do, but you will have wrestled with God and seen Him. And you are blessed for it!

February 4, 2022

I See A Comeback

This picture can hardly do justice to the messy situation residing inside my purse. I usually keep the mess tucked away and out of view, but I became quite self-conscious this morning as I realized I needed to turn over my purse to the scrutiny of hospital security.

As I set my purse onto the table, I kind of held it with one hand and opened it with the other, sequestering some of the mess from the public eye. Yet needing to get a better view of the contents of my purse, the security gaurd passed me through the metal detector while he used one of those long wooden poles to expose all the hidden corners of my mess.

“Sir, I’m so embarrassed!! It’s so messy.”

With the kindest of eyes he looked at me and said, “I don’t see a mess. I see a comeback!” 😭

Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes.

You see, the first 22 days of 2022 have been messier than expected. It is as if I was lulled to sleep with the thrill of hope, but woke up to the sad reality that the messes of yesterday are still present today. The sadnesses and sickness, the weary weight of unanswered prayers and the apprehension of an unknown future. They are all still here.

But this is what I know about God’s Kingdom: He rules.

Until Heaven arrives in full glory, suffering is here to stay. But in God’s Kingdom, the pain we carry becomes a privilege.

Why? Because it casts within us a Christlike heart AND we sit front row to watch our suffering bow at the feet of Jesus.

In God’s Kingdom our hope is secure! He will fashion gardens from our deserts, flip deep mourning into joy, and celebrate with us as ashes of lament become a color-filled dance.

So hold on sister! The truth about being a daughter in God’s Kingdom is that what you see as a mess, He sees as a comeback!! ❤️

(Genesis 50; Romans 8)

January 28, 2022

The World Needs You

I sat surrounded by limp babies blushed with fever, several women crying in agonizing pain, and more than a few who smelled of alcohol and life lived on the street.

The young lady who sat beside snuggled her sick newborn baby and broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. The man sitting in front of me snuck sips of beer from his backpack. Another cussed into his cell phone saying, “I’m going to break her a**. She took all the drugs and the money.”

I pinched my mask tight around my nose and pulled my girl and my purse close as if I could keep us all sanitized.

But I couldn’t. I sat in a petri dish of disease and darkness. My eyes swept the devastation in front of me, and I was disgusted.

I was disgusted until the man in front of me took out his wallet and counted the 5 dollars he had to his name. And the young woman beside me told her boyfriend, “Oh no, you aren’t nasty.” (Which, frankly, is another way of saying that he is, indeed, nasty.) And a young lady crawled into the ER all alone wailing in pain.

And then my heart broke in compassion. Remember Jesus looking out over Jerusalem and weeping?

He touched lepers. Spoke to the outcast. Dined with tax collectors. A sanitized life was not his goal.

The world needs us! Actually, the world needs Jesus, but because we are the hands and feet of Jesus the world needs you and I.

Sitting in the ER was not the way I planned to start our New Year, but I will take this lesson with me into 2022. So go forth sisters, filled with compassion. Look for lepers to touch, sinners to dine with, and society’s outcast to share a conversation. The world needs you because the world needs Jesus! ❤️

November 30, 2021

God’s Best Work is Done in the Secret Places

As I sat down to type a post recently I realized that even though I could share the lessons learned, much of the story would have to go untold. This lack of transparency felt inauthentic, and if we value anything in 2021, we value being authentic. After a little internal wrestling I finally came to peace with the fact that some pages of our storybooks are never meant for public consumption.

In these wrestlings, God taught me a valuable lesson. And although I won’t be able to share my story, I will share the story of the diamond. By the end of this article my hope is that we would treasure God’s secret work as His best work.

The Secret Place of Diamond Formation

I wear a diamond on my ring finger. My dear husband spent most his small, post-college savings on a beautifully set princess cut engagement ring. Although many of us publicly display diamonds, no eye has seen the secret places of their formation. At a depth of about 100 miles below the earth’s service, a combination of high heat and intense pressure fashion these precious little jewels. Once formed, natural occurrences, such as volcanos carry the diamonds closer to the earth’s surface where miners find them. Jewelers cut them. Consumers buy them.

100 miles into the depth of our own hearts, God does this kind of brilliant work. High heat. Intense pressure. Where no eye can see, nor drill can fathom.

I recently studied Matthew 6 where Jesus taught about giving, prayer and fasting, and thought about diamond formation.

Create Rhythms of Secret Disciplines

Matthew 6:17-18 says “But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret. And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you.”

Three times Matthew 6 repeats this phrase, “Then your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you.”

How many secret prayers have you prayed? How many solitary grief-stricken pleas? How many unknown sacrifices of generosity? Or undisclosed choices to fast from a tangible item so you can feast on God?

No eye sees…But God does!

So at all time, but especially when life feels overwhelming, press into these secret places create rhythms of daily secret disciplines.

Give generously…”do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”

Pray consistently…”go into your room, close the door and prayer to your Father, who is unseen.”

Fast patiently…”wash your face so it will not be obvious to men…but only to your Father, who is unseen.”

And don’t be discouraged if your life is not currently tied up with a pretty instagram bow! (Let’s be honest, mine rarely is!) As deep calls to deep, He will do His best work in our secret places and make them beautiful, dare I say bountiful!

How do I know He will do His best work in these secret places? Because He promises it! “Then your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you.”

Yes, the reward will be in heaven, but what about now as we trudge through this side of the thin veil?

I think Psalm 42 sums it up beautifully:

“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

By day the Lord directs His love, at night His song is with me.”

Because His love song is more than enough, I will keep running to these secret places.

November 16, 2021

Unanswered Prayers

Not too long ago God broke my heart when He denied a miracle I had prayed for with great faith. Not only had he told me No, but we answer to received was unjust and horrifically painful.

I took it up with God, desperately needing a way forward. I needed to find a gentle space to land in the tension between the mysterious way He acts, and the perfection of His well.

The truth is, God is the God of the unexpected, both the unexpected that delights and the unexpected that disappoints. He is the God over healthy babies and sunrises, clear scans and job promotions. But He is also the God over disabilities and car accidents, persecution and loved ones lost too soon.

How do we to balance the weight of this juxtaposition?

Certainly John the Baptist understood this. Locked in a cold dark prison he sent word to Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another.” (Luke 7:20) Even after all the miracles John had seen, even after his years of baptisms and ministry, he still held a flicker of a doubt that Jesus was the expected Messiah.

If He was, shouldn’t John’s circumstances look different than the 4 walls of his prison cell?

When I sat in my own circumstantial prison of denied prayers, I learned an important lesson. While I still pray with purpose, my most beloved expectation is incarnation. Presence. Emmanuel. God with me.

Comfort.

Peace.

Strength.

Remember, through every delight and every disappointment, He is good...

…and He is the only good we truly need!

Lock eyes on Him, and trust God with us to see you through!

“But as for me it is good to be near God.” Psalm 73:28

Follow@heatherjjonsson