This week I prayed for one who had taken her life. I do not know her name. I do not know her story. Questions fly. Why? How could she? Didn't she know? I could only bow my head to pray. For her hurting family. For her children.
I don't know her story.
But like so many others, I may know part of her pain. Hopelessness. Fear. Anxiety. Depression. Emotions so heavy and real. And so separate from any particular circumstance or event. They just are.
Early this morning in the quiet pre-dawn, fear hung over me like a too-small cloak, choking off my air supply. There wasn't a name for this fear, a cause. It just was. Maybe that is why it is so fearsome. When you can name something, you have a handle for it. When it is simply a sense of dread, running thick over you... clinging, its very elusiveness terrifies.
Who to call when you can't put a name to things? Pride moves in right alongside the terror, whispering lies. If I tell someone, they just won't get it. Who to tell that won't hide quiet disdain? Who to tell that won't give well-meaning but unproductive advice? That's what fear and pride do...get you all alone. They create a space where they can grow bigger and bigger.
This morning fear hung over me like a too-small cloak. But I pried a corner of the cloak away as I sat down to journal my thoughts to a God who seemed very distant and completely removed. My view of Him was all but gone, the giants of fear and pride looming large right in front of me. Yet, I pulled the corner of the cloak as I sat down to communicate with a God I couldn't feel in that moment.
I poured out my questions and thoughts. I cried tears of helplessness. Why can't I just pray this away? Why do I fight this all-encompassing battle with anxiety over and over and over again? If I was a better Christian. If I was a better person. If I did more. If I did less. If. If. If. Crying out to my Abba-Daddy, lump in my throat, hands clutching my pen and journal.
Spent, I opened my Bible app on my phone, and the verse of the day jumped out at me as if it was in neon flashing lights.
1 Peter 5: 8-9
Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith. Remember that your Christian brothers and sisters all over the world are going through the same kind of suffering you are.
Feeling like the too-tight cloak had slipped off one shoulder and breath was coming a little easier, I opened to my readings for the day.
In the Old Testament, I was revisiting Elijah in 1 Kings 19. But that living and active Word meant something different to me today then all the other times I had read it. Elijah, after receiving God's amazing provision and revelation was now running scared from the evil Jezebel. I must sheepishly admit in the past when I've read this account, I've thought to myself, "Elijah! Seriously! God has shown you how He can provide and yet you are going to run scared from this woman?" Today, this thought didn't enter my mind. I was in a place of understanding fear. Of not being able to see past the looming shadow of fear. Today as I read, I was instead floored by the compassion God showed Elijah.
After running all day, Elijah sets down under a tree and prays to die.
Oh how my heart aches for this man. I feel his hopelessness and fear and the dropping to the knees and the crying "just take me!"
And he sleeps. And he is twice woken by an angel who urges him to eat and drink both times, preparing him for a journey. A Father meeting His child's physical needs.
He journeys to Mount Sinai, somehow sustained by this food and drink, though it is a forty day trip. When he gets there, he cries out to the Lord, telling Him why he has run. He cries out his fear. He cries out the unfairness of serving the Lord and yet meeting the fate Jezebel would mete out to him.
The Lord's response always brings tears to my eyes, especially today as God met me there in my need.
1 Kings 19: 11-13
"Go out and stand before me on the mountain," the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance to the cave.
I imagine the God of the universe, the Creator of the universe, revealing Himself to a scared man. And I imagine Him revealing Himself in a gentle whisper. A Father meeting His child's heart needs. And I cry tears turned to joy because He is mighty. But He is gentle. He is my Father. And I am His child. He is patient. And kind. He cares. And I cry just because I needed to know that today.
Though I can share the words that I spoke this morning. And I can share the passages in His Word He spoke soft over me, I don't know that I can convey the feeling of His presence. How I felt. Helpless down on my knees, worn and weary. But met by God. In that place of need. He spoke so tangibly to me.
And I am grateful. The cloak slipped off my shoulders, and I'm now breathing in full, sweet gulps of life-giving air. I am clothed, not by ill-fitting cloaks never meant for me to wear, but instead I am covered by my Father's hand. The fear and pride simply shadows in the background overshadowed by the shelter of my Father's wing.
I don't know the story of the woman who took her life. I don't know her exact pain. Why she felt helpless. Maybe her pain didn't have a name either, it just loomed big and heavy and fearsome, breathing hot and unrelenting on her neck. Maybe she was simply so tired and worn, one more day didn't seem possible. But I pray for her. And I pray for her family. And I pray for my Brothers and Sisters out in this world who face fear and helplessness and hopelessness. I pray for them to find the shelter of God Most High. That they would feel, instead of the shadows of fear and death, the shadow of His wing.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Things No One Ever Told Me... or "Confessions of a Thirtysomething Former Know-it-all"
No one ever told me that the realization that I was now the adult in charge could bring terror, not the jubilation I always imagined.
They also didn't tell me that I could hand the reigns over to my Father because I was still His child.
No one ever told me that you don't outgrow fear. The monsters lurking just take on a different form is all.
They also didn't tell me that in these shadows, I would learn to lean on God the most.
No one ever told me that love is often a choice you make, not an emotion you feel.
They also didn't tell me that the love would be even sweeter for the choice made.
No one ever told me that the pink and blue bundles of joy placed into my hands would one day bear wounds from their mama's tongue. That my inadequacies, faults and sin would loom ugly in the mirror of their innocent eyes.
They also didn't tell me that there is perhaps no sweeter forgiveness than that of a child who hugs mama close and loves her despite her brokenness and failure.
No one ever told me that I would speak words that had once wounded me. That the words would spew forth as if out of my control.
They also didn't tell me that I would find a way to forgive the one who had wounded me, now equipped with the sweet knowledge that those words hadn't been meant to hurt me but came from a deep well of fear and insecurity.
No one ever told me that I would sometimes get lost in the cacophony of little voices clamoring for my attention. That indeed I could turn them off and get lost inside my own head.
They also didn't tell me that sometimes one small voice would reach through the discord, reminding me that I just had to meet one need at a time.
No one ever told me that someone else's pain could hurt far more than your own.
They also didn't tell me the sweet release of surrendering your loved ones to a caring Father.
No one ever told me that life in this fallen, broken world could be so filled with ash and debris. That I would sometimes stumble through the disarray in confusion and sorrow. But in those moments, He would bring beauty from the ashes, rising up like a brave wild flower taking root in the cinders. The beauty all the more exuberant and wonderful for the dismal surroundings. That when we take root where He plants us, He uses us in our weakness to breathe life to others.
No one ever told me these things
And really, if they had...if they did, I wouldn't have listened. I would've smiled in secret smugness knowing that I would love and live better. Love and live smarter.
Because something else no one ever told me?
I, too, would be more beautiful for the ashes. When I would finally allow myself to be humbled. Kneeling. Broken. Then. Only then could I hear Him whisper quiet, sure words laced with love.
Only then would I let Him shine through this weak, broken vessel.
And that is something worth telling.
They also didn't tell me that I could hand the reigns over to my Father because I was still His child.
No one ever told me that you don't outgrow fear. The monsters lurking just take on a different form is all.
They also didn't tell me that in these shadows, I would learn to lean on God the most.
No one ever told me that love is often a choice you make, not an emotion you feel.
They also didn't tell me that the love would be even sweeter for the choice made.
No one ever told me that the pink and blue bundles of joy placed into my hands would one day bear wounds from their mama's tongue. That my inadequacies, faults and sin would loom ugly in the mirror of their innocent eyes.
They also didn't tell me that there is perhaps no sweeter forgiveness than that of a child who hugs mama close and loves her despite her brokenness and failure.
No one ever told me that I would speak words that had once wounded me. That the words would spew forth as if out of my control.
They also didn't tell me that I would find a way to forgive the one who had wounded me, now equipped with the sweet knowledge that those words hadn't been meant to hurt me but came from a deep well of fear and insecurity.
No one ever told me that I would sometimes get lost in the cacophony of little voices clamoring for my attention. That indeed I could turn them off and get lost inside my own head.
They also didn't tell me that sometimes one small voice would reach through the discord, reminding me that I just had to meet one need at a time.
No one ever told me that someone else's pain could hurt far more than your own.
They also didn't tell me the sweet release of surrendering your loved ones to a caring Father.
No one ever told me that life in this fallen, broken world could be so filled with ash and debris. That I would sometimes stumble through the disarray in confusion and sorrow. But in those moments, He would bring beauty from the ashes, rising up like a brave wild flower taking root in the cinders. The beauty all the more exuberant and wonderful for the dismal surroundings. That when we take root where He plants us, He uses us in our weakness to breathe life to others.
No one ever told me these things
And really, if they had...if they did, I wouldn't have listened. I would've smiled in secret smugness knowing that I would love and live better. Love and live smarter.
Because something else no one ever told me?
I, too, would be more beautiful for the ashes. When I would finally allow myself to be humbled. Kneeling. Broken. Then. Only then could I hear Him whisper quiet, sure words laced with love.
Only then would I let Him shine through this weak, broken vessel.
And that is something worth telling.
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Play Maker
Walking into the gym, I saw third and fourth grade girls warming up. They had attended practices and studied the plays. Some of the girls patiently waited, confidence emanating from their faces, while others nervously paced.
Walking into the gym, I saw third and fourth grade girls warming up. They had attended practices and studied the plays. Some of the girls patiently waited, confidence emanating from their faces, while others nervously paced.
As the game started, it seemed we might be a bit outmatched.
But the girls doggedly continued racing up and down the court trying to
remember the difference between defense and offense. As the coach yelled
reminders and instructions, his words were joined by parents’ voices. Some
shouting encouragement, others yelling instructions. Once in a while, a
reprimand hung in the air.
Now, a friend and I always joke that should we coach, she’d
be the “bad guy” while I’d be the overindulgent (read: nonproductive) coach,
promising a trip for ice cream after the game “no matter the score.” And my softer side was coming out now. I felt
sympathy tugging at my heart as some girls looked clearly bewildered and scared
while most went about the game putting the pieces together: offense, defense,
plays…working all these pieces together to play the game of basketball.
And it hit me.
This is what I feel like most days.
I’ve read the Play Book. I’ve listened to the Coach. I’ve
rehearsed possible scenarios in my head, and visualized what they might look
like out on the court in a real game.
But just like the bewildered grade-schoolers, sometimes the
plays and shots come at me faster than I’d like once I’m actually on the court.
I don’t take time for a time-out and end up winging it, forgetting all the
plays I’d rehearsed with Coach.
And sometimes, I fail.
But the thing is, God doesn’t keep a score board for me.
Others do – they keep score of my inadequacies, my ‘hypocrisies’, my falls and
stumbles. From their vantage point, it is simple: I know the plays, now that
I’m on the court, I just need to put ‘em into action.
Yet from my vantage point, the plays aren’t so clear. I have
circumstances and people coming at me at an intense speed. Through the sweat
dripping off my brow, I see the Coach holding up the Play Book
and calling my name, but sometimes I try to do things on my own because I
can’t seem to hear His voice. Or I have the right play but use it at the wrong
moment. I trip and fall. And finally,
either by admitting my need for help or by a holy time out called by the Play
Maker, I crawl over to the bench. Tears in my eyes, wearing my failure like
it’s my uniform, I grab the Play Book and start searching again. And sometimes
the Coach shows me what I’ve got to do next time. Sometimes, He asks me to redo
what I’ve already done. And always, His sweet grace surrounds me as He
underscores the points in the Book, hands me Living Water and says,
“Take a swig and get back out there.”
“Take a swig and get back out there.”
Then I start playing again. And I sometimes I score. And
most often, I fall. And because I am vocal about my faith, people view my
stumbles or inadequacies as pretenses or hypocrisies.
But He
still isn’t keeping score. When I look at His score board, it simply says
“Redeemed.” And He’s given me amazing teammates who hold me accountable for my
game, who lift me up when I’m beat and who study the plays with me.
And so I keep on, keepin’ on.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Careful With His Words
The past several days, I have been increasingly disturbed as certain photos and statuses are shared over and again, showing up repeatedly on my Facebook page. The topic might be end times, witchcraft/mediums or things of those nature. All touchy subjects in our "anything goes" American culture. But it isn't even the dubious nature of the postings that has me so upset...it is the comments (sometimes into the thousands) underneath, showing the absolute ignorance in the "Christian" body today.
Many of these comments are well meaning - but off base. And some are just bizarre. Some from people out to destroy Christ-following beliefs. Some simply an extension of a society where even Christ followers seek after feel-good philosophies and ideas.
Now, lately I have been criticized for wanting "love" to supersede "truth." That analysis couldn't be farther from what I truly believe. People, claiming to love Jesus, are spouting out doctrine that is simply not true...and making a mockery of the Bible and the God it embodies in its pages. That makes me angry, just as it does my 'critics'! I, too, cringe as I read ignorant comments from people crediting God or the Bible for their twisted theology. Yet, I am fairly sure they've read a piece of Scripture here and there and never gone to the work to read the whole thing. That is a little like putting together a puzzle with half the pieces and passing it off as a work of art. Except the implications here are much more dangerous.
If you profess to be a Christian, you must read your Bible; you must seek to know truth. You must turn your back on what the world says is truth. That's what it means to be a Christian. To follow Christ. We are, too often, trying to meld this culture's secular humanist self-help model of living with a few often-cited Scriptures to make our own comfortable brand of religion. This too, makes me angry. How dishonoring to a very real God who has laid truth out for us.
I believe this whole-heartedly. I believe in Jesus as the Son of God, and I believe that He inspired every word in the Bible to help me live an honoring life, seeking Him. I fall sloppily short often, but I open the pages back up and begin reading again to understand a piece of this majestic God I get to call "Father."
Yet, I have recently been criticized much in the same way I am criticizing the ignorance of the people posting comments that are not biblically true. Let me be clear, I do not want to subscribe to a more comfortable brand of Christianity. I want to follow God - including the hard truths in between the covers of His Word. But I also feel those words should inspire me to action. And yes, to love people. Because if I have all the knowledge contained in those pages and do nothing with them, I am no more productive than an athlete watching training videos as their sole means to training for a sporting event. The truth must propel me to action.
You cannot love people the way Jesus commands us to without knowing His Word in its entirety - hard truths included. But neither can knowledge without love and action surely fully please Him either.
I have fallen often and messily. But I will return to the training book over and again and soak in its Words - praying that God will inspire me with its words each and every time. And I will use those words to help me live and love in an imperfect world, where I am an incredibly imperfect participant, yet showered by His grace. How can I do any less than extend love and grace in this world when I am such an undeserving recipient myself?
If that makes me weak or inferior or too "needy", there you have it. And thank God that I am. I am needy. I am in need of His grace as I fall short every single day. I am in need of others to show me love and grace. I am in need of brothers and sisters in Christ who will hold me accountable, help me to learn and steer me back on track. I don't simply desire a "feel-good" message, I desire real relationship with real people who will help me live in a 'real hard' world, with honor and godliness as much as I can.
So - you will never, ever hear me say the words "thank goodness I'm 'there' " Because I'm not "there." As I've stated, I fall short again and again. But one thing I take seriously is the Word of my God. And I ask you, as a sister in Christ, do not quote Him and give Him credit for words unless you're sure He's spoken them. Because though we live under a grace-giving, merciful Father who knows our hearts, we are speaking to an unforgiving, critical generation who loves to see our inconsistencies and errors. Speak your words carefully. Quote His words more carefully still. Don't fall into the trap I've set for myself in the past, serving a God I'd made up in my mind - my image of Him carefully boxed up and tied with a nice, neat bow. His truths and all the facets of who He is cannot be contained. Make sure the Christ you proclaim is the one found on the pages of Scripture...not a Messiah you've created on your own that comfortably fits your ideals. Because none of us will be prepared for how awesome and majestic He is - but I want all of my knowledge of Him, here on earth, to come straight from His own Word. Please, as you go forward wanting to proclaim truth in an unbelieving world, do so carefully. Study carefully and speak more carefully still.
I say this to you and I say it to myself. God, help us honor you with our words.
Many of these comments are well meaning - but off base. And some are just bizarre. Some from people out to destroy Christ-following beliefs. Some simply an extension of a society where even Christ followers seek after feel-good philosophies and ideas.
Now, lately I have been criticized for wanting "love" to supersede "truth." That analysis couldn't be farther from what I truly believe. People, claiming to love Jesus, are spouting out doctrine that is simply not true...and making a mockery of the Bible and the God it embodies in its pages. That makes me angry, just as it does my 'critics'! I, too, cringe as I read ignorant comments from people crediting God or the Bible for their twisted theology. Yet, I am fairly sure they've read a piece of Scripture here and there and never gone to the work to read the whole thing. That is a little like putting together a puzzle with half the pieces and passing it off as a work of art. Except the implications here are much more dangerous.
If you profess to be a Christian, you must read your Bible; you must seek to know truth. You must turn your back on what the world says is truth. That's what it means to be a Christian. To follow Christ. We are, too often, trying to meld this culture's secular humanist self-help model of living with a few often-cited Scriptures to make our own comfortable brand of religion. This too, makes me angry. How dishonoring to a very real God who has laid truth out for us.
I believe this whole-heartedly. I believe in Jesus as the Son of God, and I believe that He inspired every word in the Bible to help me live an honoring life, seeking Him. I fall sloppily short often, but I open the pages back up and begin reading again to understand a piece of this majestic God I get to call "Father."
Yet, I have recently been criticized much in the same way I am criticizing the ignorance of the people posting comments that are not biblically true. Let me be clear, I do not want to subscribe to a more comfortable brand of Christianity. I want to follow God - including the hard truths in between the covers of His Word. But I also feel those words should inspire me to action. And yes, to love people. Because if I have all the knowledge contained in those pages and do nothing with them, I am no more productive than an athlete watching training videos as their sole means to training for a sporting event. The truth must propel me to action.
You cannot love people the way Jesus commands us to without knowing His Word in its entirety - hard truths included. But neither can knowledge without love and action surely fully please Him either.
I have fallen often and messily. But I will return to the training book over and again and soak in its Words - praying that God will inspire me with its words each and every time. And I will use those words to help me live and love in an imperfect world, where I am an incredibly imperfect participant, yet showered by His grace. How can I do any less than extend love and grace in this world when I am such an undeserving recipient myself?
If that makes me weak or inferior or too "needy", there you have it. And thank God that I am. I am needy. I am in need of His grace as I fall short every single day. I am in need of others to show me love and grace. I am in need of brothers and sisters in Christ who will hold me accountable, help me to learn and steer me back on track. I don't simply desire a "feel-good" message, I desire real relationship with real people who will help me live in a 'real hard' world, with honor and godliness as much as I can.
So - you will never, ever hear me say the words "thank goodness I'm 'there' " Because I'm not "there." As I've stated, I fall short again and again. But one thing I take seriously is the Word of my God. And I ask you, as a sister in Christ, do not quote Him and give Him credit for words unless you're sure He's spoken them. Because though we live under a grace-giving, merciful Father who knows our hearts, we are speaking to an unforgiving, critical generation who loves to see our inconsistencies and errors. Speak your words carefully. Quote His words more carefully still. Don't fall into the trap I've set for myself in the past, serving a God I'd made up in my mind - my image of Him carefully boxed up and tied with a nice, neat bow. His truths and all the facets of who He is cannot be contained. Make sure the Christ you proclaim is the one found on the pages of Scripture...not a Messiah you've created on your own that comfortably fits your ideals. Because none of us will be prepared for how awesome and majestic He is - but I want all of my knowledge of Him, here on earth, to come straight from His own Word. Please, as you go forward wanting to proclaim truth in an unbelieving world, do so carefully. Study carefully and speak more carefully still.
I say this to you and I say it to myself. God, help us honor you with our words.
Monday, June 18, 2012
I Love God...So Why Is Life So Hard?!
Yesterday, we had a guest speaker at church who talked about the average person having a life that goes up and down. Trials and triumphs. Then he quipped, 'when God promised to give believers life abundantly, He delivered. The highs are even higher...and the lows are even lower!'
I laughed because it is SO true. I have a friend who has compared life to a hamster wheel. In mock (and sometimes not-so-mock) dispair, she asked "what is the point?!"
Now you know the quick, "Jesus-y" answer I could give. We all KNOW the point of this life. But sometimes we still wonder about the "whys" of it all. God gave me a little illustration this morning.
As I navigated the track bright and early this morning, after two days of not walking, I found my legs rather stiff. After a couple times around my sphere of torture (okay, okay, I'm joking...kind of), I was loosened up and ready to really roll. I came around the corner of the track, heading south when it hit. A wind so heavy and persistent, it felt like I had a physical wall in front of me. I pushed the stroller with all my might against the wall of wind and seriously contemplated turning off at the exit!
After a few more laps, battling the wind while heading in one direction, I was hit with this revelation. My exercise routine this morning was a bit like life. I would be cruising along just fine and then I would turn the corner and be hit by the wind (insert your trial or circumstance here).
But one thing became clear to me as I continued walking. After pushing against the wind, when I turned the other corner, the wind was at my back. I was gently propelled forward and felt as though I was getting a rest in the midst of my walk. (Isn't God kinda like that?)
My scenery hadn't changed. The track was still a firm, solid ground. I had on shoes supporting my feet, my legs supporting my body. The wind was making my workout a little harder, true. But when it was all said and done, those moments walking against the wind were making me a little stronger.
Isn't that what trials do for us? They help us to strengthen our spiritual muscles.
And God is so faithful. If we will only keep our eyes on Him, we find rest, we find Him as the wind at our back, propelling us forward. Carrying us.
Here's the clincher. I hadn't walked for two days. My body was a little week, a little lazy. I was less equipped to hit that wall of wind.
I do that with my spiritual muscles too. I get spiritually lazy. I fall into patterns where I don't read my Bible daily. I claim to know God's Word and God's will when I am not in His Word to know what His will is.
Doing life without reading His Word or following His truth is a lot like competing in a triatholon without training!
Sometimes life does seem a bit like running tirelessly on a hamster wheel. But that is not God's plan for us. He has things for us to learn and help us grow in absolutely every stage or circumstance He allows. He gave us life. It is a privelege to run this race and we are wise to bear in mind the Helper we have to help us run well.
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. 1 Corinthians 9:24
We are all here doing this thing called "life" together. As fellow believers we can be the "wind" at someone else's back, propelling them forward.
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7
God indeed gives us life abundantly. We will have the highest of highs. But we will still experience lows. Lows that make us ask "why?" and cry out to Him. But that is just it. We can cry out to Him. He will NEVER let our "lows" or suffering be wasted. We can grow in these dark places in unparalelled ways. But we have to be willing to let Him mold us.
In my walk, I loved when I could feel the wind at my back, gently guiding me along. But it was when I faced the wind that I was strengthening myself the most. Pushing through, determined to finish my walk well.
How I wish to do the same in this Walk He blessed me with.
I laughed because it is SO true. I have a friend who has compared life to a hamster wheel. In mock (and sometimes not-so-mock) dispair, she asked "what is the point?!"
Now you know the quick, "Jesus-y" answer I could give. We all KNOW the point of this life. But sometimes we still wonder about the "whys" of it all. God gave me a little illustration this morning.
As I navigated the track bright and early this morning, after two days of not walking, I found my legs rather stiff. After a couple times around my sphere of torture (okay, okay, I'm joking...kind of), I was loosened up and ready to really roll. I came around the corner of the track, heading south when it hit. A wind so heavy and persistent, it felt like I had a physical wall in front of me. I pushed the stroller with all my might against the wall of wind and seriously contemplated turning off at the exit!
After a few more laps, battling the wind while heading in one direction, I was hit with this revelation. My exercise routine this morning was a bit like life. I would be cruising along just fine and then I would turn the corner and be hit by the wind (insert your trial or circumstance here).
But one thing became clear to me as I continued walking. After pushing against the wind, when I turned the other corner, the wind was at my back. I was gently propelled forward and felt as though I was getting a rest in the midst of my walk. (Isn't God kinda like that?)
My scenery hadn't changed. The track was still a firm, solid ground. I had on shoes supporting my feet, my legs supporting my body. The wind was making my workout a little harder, true. But when it was all said and done, those moments walking against the wind were making me a little stronger.
Isn't that what trials do for us? They help us to strengthen our spiritual muscles.
And God is so faithful. If we will only keep our eyes on Him, we find rest, we find Him as the wind at our back, propelling us forward. Carrying us.
Here's the clincher. I hadn't walked for two days. My body was a little week, a little lazy. I was less equipped to hit that wall of wind.
I do that with my spiritual muscles too. I get spiritually lazy. I fall into patterns where I don't read my Bible daily. I claim to know God's Word and God's will when I am not in His Word to know what His will is.
Doing life without reading His Word or following His truth is a lot like competing in a triatholon without training!
Sometimes life does seem a bit like running tirelessly on a hamster wheel. But that is not God's plan for us. He has things for us to learn and help us grow in absolutely every stage or circumstance He allows. He gave us life. It is a privelege to run this race and we are wise to bear in mind the Helper we have to help us run well.
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. 1 Corinthians 9:24
We are all here doing this thing called "life" together. As fellow believers we can be the "wind" at someone else's back, propelling them forward.
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7
God indeed gives us life abundantly. We will have the highest of highs. But we will still experience lows. Lows that make us ask "why?" and cry out to Him. But that is just it. We can cry out to Him. He will NEVER let our "lows" or suffering be wasted. We can grow in these dark places in unparalelled ways. But we have to be willing to let Him mold us.
In my walk, I loved when I could feel the wind at my back, gently guiding me along. But it was when I faced the wind that I was strengthening myself the most. Pushing through, determined to finish my walk well.
How I wish to do the same in this Walk He blessed me with.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
My Mission Field
This has been one of those weeks. I am discouraged. Looking around me, I think "this isn't what the picture in my head looks like!"
In my head, I have a squeaky clean nine year old and six year old studiously working on their seatwork. I have a just-turned-four year old who is quietly sitting on the floor putting together puzzles while reciting poetry. And my four month old is laying quietly on a quilt smiling and cooing and smelling all baby fresh. And me? I am put together, hair and make-up in place, with a text book in one hand and cook book in the other, effortlessly caring for my home and teaching my children all at the same time.
Reality check.
I just realized my nine year old IS sitting at the table working studiously...with her hair in knots because she gave up after patiently asking me fifteen times for help braiding the unruly mess. My six year old is also at the table, but more kinda upside down (how is that even possible?!) as he works on his math. That four year old is yelling from the room "EEWWW, that baby PUKED!" as she runs around moving my perfectly organized books from one shelf to another. And that four month year old? Yep, she did spit up...among other things...leaving her not smelling so fresh. Here we go, bath number two for the day! She is teething; we've been up for the past two nights and both mama and baby are D.O.N.E. And the cook book? Forget it. We will be having sandwiches again today - and don't even ask me about supper right now. As for me? My hair is in a frizzy mess. Makeup...are you KIDDING? Old jeans and t-shirt. And the all exclusive fragrance of baby spit up as my main eau de toilette.
And the little nagging voice starts as the picture from Better Homes and Gardens fades.
"You can't do this."
"You aren't giving those kids what they need."
"Look at the mess this house is."
"Look at YOU!"
"You can't do this."
Stop.
Truth.
"You can do this - but only through the love, grace and strength of Christ."
"God will give equip you every step of the way, filling in the gaps."
"Okay...the house really is a mess."
THIS is my mission field. These four children under this roof; they are my mission. Not just to supply their physical needs but to bring them up in the Lord. We definitely don't "do life" perfectly or even prettily but we do turn to Jesus again and again, and I pray that despite all the other things I may do that cause my kids to need therapy, they will walk away with a strong relationship with their Creator and Savior.
As a longing fills my heart to be better, to do better, instead I will turn to Jesus who is the best. That I will let Him fill me up instead of looking around to see how I am falling short. I pray that I will recognize that when I am overwhelmed, it is because I am trying to do the impossible on my own power instead of through Him who gives me strength.
This is my mission field.
Sometimes I imagine forging out into the secular world, working a nine to five job, working 'behind the scenes' to bring others to Christ. Sounds noble, eh?
Or to journey off to some other country and hug and love on orphans and tell people about Jesus. Aw, foreign missionaries - unsung heroes who inspire me with their courage and vision. Talk about sacrifice and working for God's kingdom.
Or maybe I could write some amazing book. Teach a group of women. Join a club. Start a revival. There is so much to DO.
But THIS is my mission field.
In my stained clothes, with the only color on my face being the rings under my eyes. With a house that needs a good cleaning and purging. With kids who aren't lined up straight in a row reciting answers to me, kids who are living, learning ....and hanging upside down doing their addition facts. Homeschooling my children. Rocking the baby. Making a bazillion meals a week and doing my best to keep my house 'presentable'. Trying really hard to make home a safe haven for my husband as he comes home after working in the big ol' crazy world all day.
This is my mission field and this is my mission for now:
To raise these four beautiful children to know that they are loved more than they can fathom by a mom and a dad who desire the very best for them. And that best, to us, means knowing Jesus in a very personal way. To train up our children biblically and academically. To take care of our home and to remember that whether I always cherish the role or not, I am the heart of this home. The children looking up to me and sitting under my teaching will gather a large portion of what it means to be a disciple by watching me. My husband can only be as happy as he finds me when he walks in that door.
This is my mission field.
I will embrace it.
On the mountain tops.
And in the valleys when the only mountains are the towering piles of laundry awaiting me.
Because no matter how I view my work, God says it is priceless. I pray I will do it well - what "well" looks like through His eyes, not my own.
Because I am grateful that, for now, God gave me this mission.
This has been one of those weeks. I am discouraged. Looking around me, I think "this isn't what the picture in my head looks like!"
In my head, I have a squeaky clean nine year old and six year old studiously working on their seatwork. I have a just-turned-four year old who is quietly sitting on the floor putting together puzzles while reciting poetry. And my four month old is laying quietly on a quilt smiling and cooing and smelling all baby fresh. And me? I am put together, hair and make-up in place, with a text book in one hand and cook book in the other, effortlessly caring for my home and teaching my children all at the same time.
Reality check.
I just realized my nine year old IS sitting at the table working studiously...with her hair in knots because she gave up after patiently asking me fifteen times for help braiding the unruly mess. My six year old is also at the table, but more kinda upside down (how is that even possible?!) as he works on his math. That four year old is yelling from the room "EEWWW, that baby PUKED!" as she runs around moving my perfectly organized books from one shelf to another. And that four month year old? Yep, she did spit up...among other things...leaving her not smelling so fresh. Here we go, bath number two for the day! She is teething; we've been up for the past two nights and both mama and baby are D.O.N.E. And the cook book? Forget it. We will be having sandwiches again today - and don't even ask me about supper right now. As for me? My hair is in a frizzy mess. Makeup...are you KIDDING? Old jeans and t-shirt. And the all exclusive fragrance of baby spit up as my main eau de toilette.
And the little nagging voice starts as the picture from Better Homes and Gardens fades.
"You can't do this."
"You aren't giving those kids what they need."
"Look at the mess this house is."
"Look at YOU!"
"You can't do this."
Stop.
Truth.
"You can do this - but only through the love, grace and strength of Christ."
"God will give equip you every step of the way, filling in the gaps."
"Okay...the house really is a mess."
THIS is my mission field. These four children under this roof; they are my mission. Not just to supply their physical needs but to bring them up in the Lord. We definitely don't "do life" perfectly or even prettily but we do turn to Jesus again and again, and I pray that despite all the other things I may do that cause my kids to need therapy, they will walk away with a strong relationship with their Creator and Savior.
As a longing fills my heart to be better, to do better, instead I will turn to Jesus who is the best. That I will let Him fill me up instead of looking around to see how I am falling short. I pray that I will recognize that when I am overwhelmed, it is because I am trying to do the impossible on my own power instead of through Him who gives me strength.
This is my mission field.
Sometimes I imagine forging out into the secular world, working a nine to five job, working 'behind the scenes' to bring others to Christ. Sounds noble, eh?
Or to journey off to some other country and hug and love on orphans and tell people about Jesus. Aw, foreign missionaries - unsung heroes who inspire me with their courage and vision. Talk about sacrifice and working for God's kingdom.
Or maybe I could write some amazing book. Teach a group of women. Join a club. Start a revival. There is so much to DO.
But THIS is my mission field.
In my stained clothes, with the only color on my face being the rings under my eyes. With a house that needs a good cleaning and purging. With kids who aren't lined up straight in a row reciting answers to me, kids who are living, learning ....and hanging upside down doing their addition facts. Homeschooling my children. Rocking the baby. Making a bazillion meals a week and doing my best to keep my house 'presentable'. Trying really hard to make home a safe haven for my husband as he comes home after working in the big ol' crazy world all day.
This is my mission field and this is my mission for now:
To raise these four beautiful children to know that they are loved more than they can fathom by a mom and a dad who desire the very best for them. And that best, to us, means knowing Jesus in a very personal way. To train up our children biblically and academically. To take care of our home and to remember that whether I always cherish the role or not, I am the heart of this home. The children looking up to me and sitting under my teaching will gather a large portion of what it means to be a disciple by watching me. My husband can only be as happy as he finds me when he walks in that door.
This is my mission field.
I will embrace it.
On the mountain tops.
And in the valleys when the only mountains are the towering piles of laundry awaiting me.
Because no matter how I view my work, God says it is priceless. I pray I will do it well - what "well" looks like through His eyes, not my own.
Because I am grateful that, for now, God gave me this mission.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Jesus...are you there?
I sat in silent amusement as I watched my 3 year old and 6 year old work together to construct a tent out of blankets in our living room. They were valiantly working together, without the usual aid of their peace-making older sister, while keeping a lid on their tempers. As the blanket Mollie (3) was working on fell for the umpteenth time, she sighed heavily...her lower lip protruded...and then...she caught herself before a full-fledged tantrum. Proud mama moment! Then she said "Jesus...pleeeeeaassse make it stay up!!"
It fell.
In frustrated unbelief: "Jesus!!!???" She started to get mad again and noticed me sitting there.
"Mom...will you ask the Lord to help me?"
What do I say to that other than "of course" and proceeded to pray with her (in 3 year old terms) for help to figure out how to solve her problem. So we prayed out loud together.
Mollie smiled, content, and turned back to her work...then turned back expectantly. Then the kicker.
"Well?? Did He say yes?"
It was one of those absolutely priceless, cute-as-a-button moments. Her innocent trust was so sweet. Yet as I sat there, something dawned on me.
She sounded an awful lot like me.
How many times do I stomp my feet, asking Jesus for something and then throw a fit because I don't get my way? He could deliver but didn't. I wanted an answer but didn't hear (or couldn't accept the "no" or "wait" answer that I got!) So I get mad and question Him.... "Jesus!!!??"
And then, I seek someone else out. Someone He might listen to better. "Please pray for this..." I ask in a panic. Now there is not a thing wrong with asking someone for prayers. But admittedly, sometimes I do it because in the deepest part of me, I feel like He'll hear someone who is a "better Christian" than me. Or I seek someone else's opinion because just maybe they will have the answer I am looking for and I won't have to wait patiently (my least favorite thing!)
The thing I loved about tonight's Bible study, given by Mollie without her even knowing it, was that later tonight, she still wanted to talk to Jesus. She wasn't mad that He hadn't given her an answer to what she wanted in the way she wanted. In fact, she was perfectly content with the fact that her brother had lent her a helping hand. She was able to see that his help might just have been the provision she needed, not a blanket that magically stayed put.
Ah, that I would have the grace and innocent faith of a child. We believe in what we do not see. That is faith. And sometimes He is so faithful to just give us a little glimpse!
It fell.
In frustrated unbelief: "Jesus!!!???" She started to get mad again and noticed me sitting there.
"Mom...will you ask the Lord to help me?"
What do I say to that other than "of course" and proceeded to pray with her (in 3 year old terms) for help to figure out how to solve her problem. So we prayed out loud together.
Mollie smiled, content, and turned back to her work...then turned back expectantly. Then the kicker.
"Well?? Did He say yes?"
It was one of those absolutely priceless, cute-as-a-button moments. Her innocent trust was so sweet. Yet as I sat there, something dawned on me.
She sounded an awful lot like me.
How many times do I stomp my feet, asking Jesus for something and then throw a fit because I don't get my way? He could deliver but didn't. I wanted an answer but didn't hear (or couldn't accept the "no" or "wait" answer that I got!) So I get mad and question Him.... "Jesus!!!??"
And then, I seek someone else out. Someone He might listen to better. "Please pray for this..." I ask in a panic. Now there is not a thing wrong with asking someone for prayers. But admittedly, sometimes I do it because in the deepest part of me, I feel like He'll hear someone who is a "better Christian" than me. Or I seek someone else's opinion because just maybe they will have the answer I am looking for and I won't have to wait patiently (my least favorite thing!)
The thing I loved about tonight's Bible study, given by Mollie without her even knowing it, was that later tonight, she still wanted to talk to Jesus. She wasn't mad that He hadn't given her an answer to what she wanted in the way she wanted. In fact, she was perfectly content with the fact that her brother had lent her a helping hand. She was able to see that his help might just have been the provision she needed, not a blanket that magically stayed put.
Ah, that I would have the grace and innocent faith of a child. We believe in what we do not see. That is faith. And sometimes He is so faithful to just give us a little glimpse!
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