Category: hobo honeymoon

Joy: Well-Being

 . . . fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
 (Hebrews 12:2-3 NIV)

 

As the bride enters the room, all rise and turn to her, but her eyes are fixed on her prize, her longed after groom.  This last, sacred week of Lent, I remember that I chose to take this journey as a bride, not a penitent.  At the start of the day, I felt forced and false. I was not looking forward to recounting the death of my Savior. I wanted to shake this grave feeling, but I needed someone to help me, like Lazarus needed unwrapping after four days in the tomb.

I ran to the Living One, who is no longer in the grave, begging for a week of celebration, rather than despair. I desired more time to linger over our honeymoon journey. I did not want to spend the entire week reeling under false guilt and recounting lost causes in my life.

And then I remembered these words: For the joy set before Him!

The cross was a joy, even though the pain was excruciating. The journey was a delight, in spite of the scourging and being spat upon and the jeering that Jesus endured. And He offered Himself to the cross, to be humiliated before all. He willingly went to that hill, because He knew that the stone would be rolled away, that His sacrifice would make possible a miracle. His love would melt our hearts of stone and bestow on us hearts that rejoice. He believed that mercy is new every morning! He had us in mind as He endured the oppression, and our faces eased His pain. For the joy set before Him!

Today, when I was tempted to give into false Lenten misery, I called my hobo (homeward bound) friend, Carol Ann, the one who invited me to see this journey as a honeymoon with the Beloved. She was feeling the heaviness, too.

But the Beloved had something else in mind for us. He was beckoning us both to experience joy. He invited us to embrace the snow laden, spring day.  I packed us some fresh bagels and coffee.  We drove past the railroad tracks to an abandoned neighborhood. We trekked to a picnic shelter, poured coffee into our mugs, dunking the bagels in our coffee for some quick nourishment. Then we packed up the picnic, bundled up in our mittens and scarves to stroll through the wintry landscape. Large snowflakes bathed us and eased us into other worldly calm, immersing us into the beauty of the Beloved.
 
 
Posted on by kelrohlf 2

In This City



For this world is not our home; we are looking forward to our city in heaven,
which is yet to come.
(Hebrews 13:14 NLT)

 

I took the Metrolink to our fair city of St. Louis today. It was an expirement of sorts, a hometown adventure. I was seeking inspiration away from my usual surroundings.

I am not a city girl and I am no longer a country girl. I am a just another suburbanite looking for adventure and glitz in the city. I am a writer, and I have come to realize that as a writer, much of my life is spent in the imagination.

As some of my friends can attest, I come up with these crazy, romantic ideas, like becoming a world traveller in my own city or starting a hiking club or designing a “Bible as Literature” book club. I have a lot of ideas, not that all of them pan out

For my latest adventure, I am recreating the atmopshere of A Writer’s Paris, here in St. Louis. I mean, we do have some French roots, thus our name, St. Louis, from the Louisana Purchase and all that. In Paris, people go to the train stations to people watch and enjoy art, why not see if I could do the same here?

I was a little giddy, wondering what or who I would encounter. In light of my hobo honeymoon, I chose to go down to Union Station, our famous train depot and home to Union Station Hotel. I hadn’t been in a while, so I was pleasantly surprised to find the food court still open and a few people milling around. Mostly locals and some college basketball fans– this weekend the city is hosting Arch Madness. I did  find a few people to watch and very little art, except for the train memorabilia and the architecture in the hotel lobby.

For lunch, I sat at a cafe table in the sunny atrium. I ate my sandwich, while trying to scribble in my journal. I mostly wrote about how I didn’t like my new journal or my new pen, and kept fighting the urge to just go home and be comfortable in my blue thinking chair.




Since I was getting restless, I checked my map for the location of the newly renovated Central Library, then I walked over to check it out. There were some tourists on Market Street walking toward the Arch and a few folks sitting on the benches in Keener Park Plaza.

The difference between St. Louis and other cities that I have visited is the people. Downtown St. Louis is sparsely populated. It feels more like walking through a deserted town, than the cosmopolitan feel of New York City and Chicago. It just lacks volume. Hardly any cars, so you feel foolish waiting to cross the street. The people who are out and about look warily at each other. I found myself mumbling to myself and looking at the skyline. Do people do this in Paris?

Inside the library was quiet, too. A beautiful building with stained glass windows, marble staircases and dark mahogeny tables blended with some modern rooms and seating areas. A potential place for undistracted writing.

But before I could find a writing spot, I noticed on the ornate wall clock that it was 2:10pm, so I quickly peeked around some more rooms and then headed back to the Union Station Metrolink. My surburban sensibility didn’t want to get caught in rush hour traffic on 70 west.

All in all it was a good day: out in the sunshine, people watching and riding the Metrolink. (For $4.50 you can take a roundtrip to many locations in the Greater St. Louis area. I was thinking it would be worth it just to sit on the train and read. Or eavesdrop on conversations, which I know is not polite, but who knows what great dialogue I might catch for a novel.)

Back in my SUV, I tuned into our local Christian station. I smiled as they were playing God of This City by Chris Tomlin.

Greater things
Have yet to come
And greater things
Are still to be done in this city
(Chris Tomlin)

 




 

Posted on by kelrohlf 4

A Noble Wife Who Can Find?

 
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
(Proverbs 31:12 ESV)
 
 
 
 
 
As I have embarked on this Lenten “hobo honeymoon,” I’ve wondered what kind of bride am I for Jesus?
 
Please keep in mind that the metaphor for the Bride of Christ is not just about me as an individual, but for the whole church. (See Ephesians 5:22-33).
 
However, as I am a member of this family called the Bride, I desire to live out the qualities that would be considered praiseworthy in His eyes.
 
Often the poem about the excellent wife in Proverbs has been used as a litmus test for the ideal godly woman. But lately I have noticed  a different perspective. The Proverbs woman in some ways can be compared to the church, and her activities give insight into ways to honor Her Bridegroom.
 
In the middle of the poem the poet records the central outcome of the woman’s active life:
 
 
Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.
(Proverbs 31:23 ESV)
 
 
Am I making Jesus known where I live? Am I offering good to Him? Am I harming His reputation with my words or the way I treat others?
 
 
 
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Rendezvous: A Lover’s Meeting

My Beloved spoke, and said to me:
“Rise up, my love, my fair one,
And come away.”
 
(Solomon 2:10 NKJV)
 
 
. . . rendezvous, French for “a lover’s meeting.” The word literally means, “present yourselves.” In that literal translation is an excellent instruction on how to pray.
(Edward Hays, A Lenten Hobo Honeymoon)
 
 
 
 
On the first Friday of the Month, Dawn and Susie encourage us to randomly choose an entry from one of our journals to share with the community over at Beneath the Surface: Breath of Faith.
 
As part of my “hobo honeymoon,” this was a nice trip down memory lane, as today I randomly chose a journal that I kept the summer of 2010. That summer I had the joy of visiting my sister and her family in Scotland.
 
Part of my time there included taking a trek on my own along the Fife Coastal Path. Those two days hiking alone with the Beloved will always be a treasured memory of our relationship. When I returned home, it would have been easy to forget the “romance” of those days and neglect our relationship.
 
 
This was one of my rendezvous spots along the path,
where I met with my Beloved in Scotland.
 
The practice of keeping a journal keeps me connected to the passion of loving Jesus. It’s a tangible record of our love and His companionship, as I live out this earthly trek.
 
Here’s what I wrote almost 3 years ago, after I returned home from Scotland:
 
“Thank you Jesus for the invitation to come away–to live apart from the usual pressures of life. Thank you that I can be an artist. Thank you for leisure and the ability to linger in your presence. You know me inside out.”
 
 
 
A little love note from Him, the verse from Solomon 2:10, precedes this entry. He continues to invite me to “come away” with Him daily in my journal and on these creative jaunts inspired by others’ devotional writing.
 
Jesus and I didn’t go anywhere today. We spent the morning sorting through supplies in the art room, so that we can enjoy the leisure of art journaling and collage these coming weeks.
 
He so delights for us to pursue the desires of our hearts, and He has provided for me beyond my wildest dreams. Life is not always rosy, but I have been blessed with abundant joy, even in the midst of trying times. And little reminders of His love surround me everyday.
 
 
 
Linking up with:
 
 
 
 
 
Posted on by kelrohlf 4