September 2014 - Gina Brenna Butz

Seeing God in Legos

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 26, 2014
Post category:faith

Seeing God in Legos

My title is not meant to imply that I have seen the face of God in a Lego creation, a la the Virgin Mary in a piece of toast (especially not the creepy little guy above, courtesy of Ethan); rather, that in watching a young child play with Legos, I saw a bigger picture of Him.

We start our conference days with worship. This morning, the worship leader’s young son was sitting at our table. He availed himself of the large Lego blocks on the table (they’re great – yesterday I made an iphone holder out of them for myself). Over and over he attempted to build a structure using all the blocks, arranging and rearranging them. At this point, I wouldn’t peg this kid as a future structural engineer – a little top heavy, kiddo – but every time the blocks collapsed he laughed. When it was completed, it became a car he drove around the table. Sometimes it carried the candy on the table. Mostly the candy went in his mouth though (who can blame him?).

I was amused. He was fun to watch. It occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one enjoying him. God was having a great time watching him too. In fact, I thought, if I can find such joy in watching this little guy, how much more does God? He created our capacity to enjoy, and no one can enjoy like He can.

Do we think of Him that way? So often our view of God is too serious, like He would frown disapprovingly and shush a child playing during worship. The reality is He loves kids. He loves their creativity, their lightheartedness, their pure joy. He made it. He participates in it.

I think God laughs and enjoys His creation more than anyone. How could we enjoy something more than He does? The word says that He inhabits the praise of His people; He inhabits our joy as well.

I want to hear His laughter in ours. I want to see His smile in others’ faces. I want to be conscious of Him enjoying life with me.

Our inclination toward joy is from Him. I saw it today through some Legos.

Redeemed . . . or . . . DIYing Again

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 20, 2014
Post category:faith growth

DIY Bench

For weeks, Erik and I have intended to continue our DIY activity by making a bench out of the reclaimed dock wood we have. We kept having this conversation:

Gina: We should make the bench.
Erik: Do you have a plan for it?
Gina: Yes!
Erik: Where?
Gina: In my head.
Erik: Could you write it down?
Gina: (blink. blink.)

It finally dawned on Erik that when he said, “plan” what he meant was “detailed schematics of how this bench will be structurally sound” and what I meant was, “vague idea of cool looking bench, probably held together by nails and magic.”

So he made his own plan. And it was good, as you can see from the picture.

I love doing this. I love taking something others have discarded as worthless and making something new from it. Not something perfect – there will always be flaws, but that’s part of the beauty of it. That’s what makes it one of a kind. It can still be something useful, something good, something that gives life.

I love it because it is a picture of redemption. We all have places, moments, chapters, in our lives, that we could count as wasted. Worthless. Ruined.

God isn’t close to finished with them. In fact, that’s where He starts. He takes our broken places and our discarded moments and our lost chapters and he makes something new. These are the places from which we have the greatest potential to give life to others.

What a great gift – anything can be redeemed. Old dock wood. Us. It’s all good.

Just Enough Light for the Road I’m On

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 16, 2014
Post category:faith truth

One of the downsides of living this far south is that the sun doesn’t come up early, and I’m an early morning girl. It puts a damper on any outdoor exercise in the am, mostly because we live in the boondocks where there are no streetlights. People live out here specifically because they want to get away from all that pesky civilization with its fancy electricity that might light my way.

This morning, I decided to brave the darkness with Scout in tow so I could prayer walk around the neighborhood (is that three birds with one stone, since I also walked the dog? Multi-tasking at its best!).

As I walked, it seemed like there were just enough front porch lights, or kitchen lights of early risers, on to light our way. And during the stretches where there was no light, a car or two drove out of the neighborhood and helped us see.

Just enough light. Not the brightness I would like to feel completely confident, but enough to show me what was next.

I so want to see far ahead. I want to know what the next year, two years, 10 years will look like. But God gives me only enough light for the next step, and not always when I want it, but when I truly need it. Hopefully it keeps me walking slowly, looking to Him for what is next, trusting that what I have seen in the light is still true in the darkness.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path.” Psalm 119:105

Experiencing God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 3, 2014
Post category:faith transition

I’ll never forget the phone call from my husband in Singapore, telling me that we’d been asked to move there. The blood drained from my face at the prospect. I didn’t even know where Singapore was. I thought it was near Fiji (it is not near Fiji).

With less than 5 months to process this change, many details had to fall into place. We arrived on a Thursday night, hours after our co-workers there had been given the key to our new apartment. The next morning, as we sat in our empty dining room, we prayed that our shipment would arrive (we’d heard not a peep from the movers). Within 5 minutes, the doorbell rang. It was the moving company.

Looking back on it, I felt God’s tenderness. He knew how hard it was for us to move to Singapore, to leave behind the life we had. All those details falling into place felt like gifts from Him, saying, “I’m going to get you through this.”

Five years later, when we moved back into East Asia, the process wasn’t so smooth. Visa and shipping issues tied us and pushed our leave date again and again. I finally cried out in exasperation, “God, last time you were so tender with us! Why don’t I see it now?”

His answer was clear, “Because that’s not what you need now.”

It was true. I was overjoyed to be moving back to our previous home. I didn’t need comfort. I needed restoration after a long two years of ill health and loneliness. That summer was three months of glorious God-given re-everything: restoration, refreshment, rejuvenation, re-you name it. And through it all, I felt God rejoicing in giving it to me, cause that’s just the kind of God He is.

After those times, I was curious to see what aspect of His character I would experience most in moving back to the U.S. We moved back two years ago today (what??), so I thought it would behoove me to reflect upon it (and also, I like the word “behoove”).

I think more than anything, I have experienced God as the rock who anchors me. He has been my constant, my solid place. He has kept me from drifting too far from home. He has been the place I can rest when the waves are too strong for me. His strength has tethered me when I have reached the end of my resources again and again. He is the deepest truth about who I am when everything else is shifting sands.

What will He show me next?