Just. Be. Still.

“Relax, Daniel, don’t be afraid. From the moment you decided to humble yourself to receive understanding, your prayer was heard.” (Daniel 10:12; MSG)

I got up on the wrong side of the bed today. I was in good head space when I went to sleep, but I woke up angry and combative. Never a great way to start the day.

The day started anyway, and I worked to stop the running arguments in my head as I went through my usual morning motions. I sent up a handful of hurried prayers for God to release me. The arguments persisted. I grabbed a notebook and angrily wrote out about three or four pages of what was going on in my mind. If it hadn’t been for time, I would’ve written more. As I threw together my things to hurry out the door for work, I dialed my sponsor in hopes of releasing some of the tumult. No answer.

Arriving at work, I glossed the subject with a co-worker and friend in whom I can confide, touching only the basic idea of what had me so afflicted. He offered some limited perspective and helped by giving me a couple of extra things to consider. I calmed a bit and began my work day. As I feel tends to happen when I am already in a state of agitation, several things popped up just within the first three hours that grated on my raw nerves. Another co-worker approached and undeservedly received a barrage of angry words about the things that had irritated me in the past hour.

Knowing I needed to do something to change my attitude, I stepped outside to take a few minutes and pray. The first thing that came to my mind was the Prayer of St. Francis. Following that, a few deep breaths in stillness and earnest requests to God to help me seek to be compassionate and understanding. Opening my eyes I picked up my Bible and the page fell open to Daniel. Highlighted on the page, I saw first, “’Don’t be afraid, friend. Peace. Everything is going to be all right. Take courage. Be strong.” (Daniel 10:19; MSG) As I read and re-read the words, I indeed felt peace seep in.

Further up on the page the highlighted words, “From the moment you decided to humble yourself to receive understanding, your prayer was heard.” (Daniel 10:12; MSG)

As I sat in my car and breathed in the warmth and sunshine wafting in through the open windows, the war of the morning subsided.

I just needed to be still for a few minutes, call out to God from the stillness, then sit with him in the stillness. Why, oh, why, oh, why does it seem so difficult for me to just. be. still. It is one of the primary reasons why one of my Lenten commitments was to this blog. As evidenced by the lack of recent posts, I allowed other things in life to win out yet again. Always there is the struggle to differentiate between treating myself with grace and allowing behavior to continue that is inconsistent with what I believe or what I desire in my life.

And ultimately, that is the underlying issue right now with anything I approach.

So here is a revision for this last week and a half of Lent, most especially for Holy Week, a time to which I should devote myself in earnest to what the week remembers. If I write a reflection, great. If I don’t get to it, no sweat. More importantly than anything else, I need to spend time in stillness. So my commitment is to make that time. To apologize to anyone or anything that I must miss for it, and to make that time. To show God I’m serious about this and I want my relationship with him more than anything else.

My prayer today is that those of you who stumble across this blog and also struggle with stillness find the strength with me to sit quietly with God every day. To make space for God rather than fit God in.

Amen.

Throw Open the Door

“By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us… We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand – out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace & glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.” (Romans 5:1-2; MSG, para.)

Romans 5:2 is one of my favorite verses. I love the imagery and I love the message. Today as I consider the peace I find in stepping into willingness and saying, “Okay, God,” I can’t help but think of this verse. The more I open my mind to allow God to work however he will – even if it doesn’t look how I think I want it to look – the more I realize he continues to set me free. When I stop being stubborn and remove the barriers I’ve set between myself and God’s will, I throw open my door to him. And there he is, smiling, saying, “I’m glad you came around. Just wait and see what we’re going to do together now.”

Just wait and see.

Yesterday, as I stepped into willingness concerning some present stressful circumstances (the stress all completely manifested by me, mind you), I felt less negatively overwhelmed by not knowing what to do and more positively overwhelmed with knowing I have options and there are things I can do if I am willing. Open mind, open heart, open door to God. And following my release of the white knuckle grip I had on the situation, I began to receive affirmation in many different ways, which confirmed for me that I am indeed stepping into God’s will with this issue. Imagine that!

Just wait and see.

Actively participating in a twelve-step program often means being willing to do whatever it takes to stay clean & sober. This often includes getting out of our comfort zones, doing things we don’t feel like doing and going the extra mile when we think we’ve run as far as we can. Our very lives depend on it. Stepping into the will of God shouldn’t be any different. Am I willing to do whatever it takes to live the life he designed for me? Even though at times it may mean troubles, discomfort, pain, distress or struggle? God, give me the strength to say, “Yes,” every time.

“There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary – we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!” (Romans 5:3-5; MSG)

Just wait and see.

My prayer today is that as I find freedom by throwing my door open to God and willingly stepping into whatever he will do with me next that you also find the courage to remove the things between you and that door. What is God calling you to do today? Push aside those barriers, open the door and gaze into his radiant, smiling face as he opens his arms and says, “I’m glad you came around. Just wait and see what we’re going to do together now.”

Amen! =D

Room Full of Boxes

“From the ends of the earth I cry to you for help when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you are my refuge.” (Psalm 61:2-3; NLT/NIV)

When life gets overwhelming, I like to use my “Room Full of Boxes” analogy. I came up with this analogy during a particularly difficult move. I got all of my things moved into my new home and unpacked the essentials, then left most of my stuff in boxes in the spare room and closed the door. Every time I opened the door and saw all the boxes, I felt overwhelmed. For months, my response was to close the door and pretend the room did not exist.

Finally, one day, I summoned my courage, breathed a prayer, opened the door and pulled out one box. After that, one box at a time, I finished unpacking.

Life is a room full of boxes. At any given time, I have boxes to unpack. They may be work boxes, family boxes, financial boxes, relationship boxes... When I get stressed and feel like I’m in a situation where several decisions need to be made at once, I want to close the door. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know where to start, I don’t want to do it, so I’ll just ignore it.

The problem is that closing the door to the room full of boxes doesn’t make the boxes go away. Neither does ignoring or delaying addressing issues that present themselves in my life. The more I resist, the harder it becomes, the more overwhelmed I feel.

It can be crippling.

So how do I combat the room full of boxes? The first thing I do is acknowledge it. Acknowledging the situation(s) making me feel overwhelmed takes away some their power. The second thing I do, when I stop being stubborn and willful, is to give it to God. “God, I feel overwhelmed. Here is my situation. I feel a little lost and like I don’t know where to start. Please calm my soul and show me the way.” Then I open the door and ask God to help me see one box at a time.

It is freeing.

“Do you not know or have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.” (Isaiah 40:28-29; NAB/NLT)

If you find you are battling a room full of boxes today, feeling overwhelmed, lost and like you don’t know where to start, invite God to the doorway. As you stand together in front of the closed door, tell God about the room. Tell him about the boxes and what’s in them, then tell him about your heart and where your mind is. Take a few moments of quiet to feel him as he smiles at you and places his hands on you, reassuring you. Then, with his loving care surrounding you, take a deep breath, open the door, and reach for the first box.

My prayer today is that I invite God to my room full of boxes, trusting that he alone can show me where to start, trusting that he can help me unpack my boxes, trusting that he can give me strength to finish unpacking. God you are good and the source of all things good. I give my room full of boxes and my weary, burdened heart to you. Thank you for your endless mercy and grace, and your patience with me when I choose to be stubborn in following your lead.

Amen! =D

Working for What?

“People leave this world no better off than when they came. All their hard work is for nothing—like working for the wind. Throughout their lives, they live under a cloud—frustrated, discouraged, and angry.” (Ecclesiates 5:16-17; NLT)

It is safe to say that money is the number one thing that can poke holes in my serenity. Here in this society, money is required for me to make it from day to day – to feed myself, to clothe myself, to keep a roof over my head. Money also is required for education, preparation and relaxation.

I know I am not alone in this. Friends and family members have struggled over the years, some breaking free of money’s crush, others still living under it, and yet others choosing to remain unaware of any issue. With the ups and downs of the economy over the last several years, many of us found ourselves suddenly unemployed, and while God may have graced us with a new job, we carry the burden of debt accumulated while without work. Many who chose to take out school loans over recent years graduated only to be unable to find work adequate to cover the cost of their monthly payments.

And the cost of everything, it seems, continues to go up, up, up, while our paychecks, if we’re blessed enough to have them, stay right where they are.

Spend some time in Ecclesiates and you’ll see the author is very much fed up with our human patterns of existence. Perhaps he saw something similar in his time to what is common today of people working hard just to make ends meet and hardly getting to enjoy the life God gave them because of their constant toiling. He says it’s all for nothing. We can’t take it with us, so there’s no use for hoarding it. We should be enjoying life more, not being so consumed by work and worry.

But what about saving money for retirement? Or emergencies? What about providing for the kids?

Perhaps the main point here is that the author is trying to bring our attention to our fruitless works. Not to tell us to stop working all together, but to consider where our time is spent and how much we trust God to take care of us. In the introduction to Ecclesiates in The Message, Eugene Peterson writes:

“Ecclesiastes actually doesn’t say that much about God; the author leaves that to the other sixty-five books of the Bible. His task is to expose our total incapacity to find the meaning and completion of our lives on our own.” (emphasis mine.)

The primary message coming through in my reflections this Lenten season focuses on my need to rely on God, live into God’s will, and trust that God will provide and take care of all my needs. I’ve even written about how I know that doing exactly that is always the best decision I can make. But, human that I am, it becomes difficult when I sit down in front of the black and red of my budget and wonder how to make it work. How do I know when I’m trying to figure it out or if I’m trying to follow God’s lead? One thing at a time. Plenty of prayer and plenty of trust.

My prayer today is that I continue striving toward God’s will, not my own, even when it comes to my finances. May I trust him with my money and tear down the fears which stand between me and my pure belief that he will provide for all my needs. Lead the way, God, I’m right behind you.

Amen! =D

Run with Endurance the Race

“At the time, discipline isn’t much fun. It always feels like it’s going against the grain. Later, of course, it pays off, for it’s the well-trained who find themselves mature in their relationship with God. So don’t sit around on your hands, strengthen your weak knees. Clear the paths for long-distance runners so that what is lame may be healed.” (Hebrews 12:11-13; MSG/NAB para.)

Currently, I am training for a big run. As part of a twelve-person team, I will participate in a 200-mile relay race in less than two weeks. Before I started training in January, the last time I ran was in June.

One of the first things I had to learn as I began to train was to work on my words. I had to stop saying, “I’m not a runner.” Saying that diminished and devalued any attempt at progress I made. Instead, I worked to say, “I’ve not previously been a runner, but I’m running now,” thus affirming myself in my training.

The next great obstacle was my body, which did not want to run. For the past couple of months I’ve battled discouragement while nursing tight calves, weak knees and ankles, struggling lungs, misaligned hips and shin splints.

While running, to combat the pain and the negative attitude that tried to win in my mind, I turned to prayer. At first I tried sticking with gratitude lists, but eventually my mind fell to a mantra of brief, repetitive God-praising phrases to egg me on and keep my mind focused solely on God and not on my discouraging thoughts or resistant body.

Then came the moment when I ran my first full mile. Not long after that, I ran through two miles. Not long after that again, I ran three miles.

Triumph. And only with God.

I still battle pain and discouraging thoughts. It’s difficult to fit training into my schedule, and the shin splints won’t seem to go away even though I’ve given them rest and tried other methods for healing. But come hell or high water, I’m running in that race. The experience of disciplined training and having real, tangible evidence of progress and what God makes possible is more rewarding than I could’ve expected. For that, I am incredibly grateful.

Up next: a sprint triathlon this fall. I feel a little crazy to consider it, but I’ve seen from these past couple of months what God can do with me if I let him. (I’ve also realized that the only way I apparently have the discipline to work out or get any exercise is if I’m training for an event.)

“Let us strip off every weight that slows us down. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Think of him and you won’t become weary and give up.” (Hebrews 12:1; NLT para.)

My prayer today is that I place Jesus before me at the finish line and at all points along my runs so I can see and hear him cheering me on and see him jumping up and down at the finish line, just waiting to lift me up in his arms after I cross it, embracing me and telling me, “Well done.”

Amen! =D 

Radical Change

“God is kind, but he’s not soft. In kindness he takes us firmly by the hand and leads us into a radical life-change.”  (Romans 2:4; MSG)

Yesterday, as I was preparing to write, my hand made a double-click which led down a rabbit hole and a few clicks later opened a Pandora’s Box of my past. Buried in folders within folders I came across an old journal of mine. I randomly clicked to a page, then found it difficult to pull away as I read through the rest, seeing old details of my life unfold. Wounds, pain and evidence of the mess I was each is spewed across the pages. It is raw and it was very real for me.

Reading something like that a few years ago would’ve sent me into a downward spiral. Coming face to face with such sadness and struggle, I would’ve gone into “I give up” mode because it would’ve shown me I hadn’t changed and therefore couldn’t change.

But that was before I found the courage to step into total surrender and willingness, throw my hands up and let it all go.

Whenever I tried to ‘fix’ my life by my own plans, I failed. The moment I truly gave it all to God, I found that success was possible. Now, this didn’t mean I didn’t have to do any work. Stepping out in faith and saying, “Okay, God, here it is. Your will, not mine,” does not mean stepping back and waiting for something to happen or waiting for something to change. Saying yes to God means signing up for radical life change – and I certainly play a role in making that change.

Working in surrender and trust yields results. I know I am moving under God’s direction when I receive affirmation and feel the effects of positive change. When I struggle, it might be a good time to stop and check in because chances are I’ve started trying to do things my way again.

Radical life change. It’s a scary thought. It means doing things sometimes which might make others think I’m crazy. It means putting God above all else, which might call for difficult sacrifices. It means possibly not being understood by peers and facing lonely days which require I cling desperately to faith.

Radical life change. It’s turning everything in my world topsy-turvy and buckling in for the ride ahead.

Jesus didn’t come just to forgive us our sins; he came to show us a new way of life, a free life, a fruitful life, a life of love. By his example we are to live our lives – and that’s pretty radical.

My prayer today is that I see where I’ve shied away from some radical changes and let go of my will and also to bask in gratitude for the radical changes God already effected in me.

Amen! =D

Painting Love

“God’s Word vaults across the skies from sunrise to sunset, melting ice, scorching deserts, warming hearts to faith. As the heavens tower over the earth, so God’s love towers over the faithful. As far as the east is from the west, so far have our sins been removed from us.” (Psalm 19:6; 103:11-12; MSG/NAB)

The Bible can be pure poetry with its imagery. One of the things I love about thumbing through different translations is to read how the same thing is said in different ways. The picture painted for me allows me to transcend the pages and step into the sands of the Israeli deserts.

If you’ve ever watched “Mary Poppins,” you might remember when Mary, Bert and the kids go on an adventure by jumping into one of Bert’s sidewalk chalk drawings. One moment they are standing in the street, the next they are running through a field, encountering dancing penguins, riding a carousel and then riding the painted horses off the carousel and into an animated horse race. All it takes is a little imagination.

This is what the Bible is like for me. I don’t ride carousel horses with Moses or Jesus – although I certainly could if I wanted – but when I get into scripture, really get into it, I’m not just reading words on a page. The Good Book comes alive and I find myself fascinated at the sights, smells and sounds around me.

Last night at my church’s Lenten dinner, our speaker shared many great words of wisdom on the love of God. One of my favorite things she stated, though, was that the Bible is a love story. It’s One Big Love Story all about God’s Love for Us.

The Bible is a love story.

From creation through persecution and into sending his son to live and die like one of us and then triumph over death and evil in the resurrection and ascension, the Bible is an incredible narrative of God’s love for his human children. What lengths, heights and depths he went to to prove his love for us!

I invite you, if you don’t already do this, to pull a Mary Poppins when you read the Good Book. Feel the sand beneath your toes, hear the thunder on the mountain when Moses meets God, see the delight on the faces of the children who flock to Jesus. To imagine being there is to make it feel that much more real and tangible. It aids in a deeply personal relationship with God, something he so desperately wants for us to have.

My prayer today is that as we prepare for the celebration of our Lord’s resurrection, we move toward a resurrection of our childlike wonder. May we allow ourselves to step outside of rigidity and read God’s Word with eager eyes, yearning hearts and open minds. It is the Greatest Love Story Ever Told, and I hope to see you in its pages.

Amen! =D

Beautiful Things

“This is what God says, “Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.” (Isaiah 43:16A, 18; MSG)

Lent corresponds with spring in such divine design. The shells of the dead of winter begin to fall away, and where there was a lack of life, life begins anew. Although this inconsistent winter is confusing even for the plants, which keep trying to bloom before the cold is truly gone, seeing those blooms reminds me that the bleakness of winter is almost behind us. During this season of self-examination I have the opportunity to shed things of the past and reach forward for the new life God works in me.

I am blessed to be a part of the praise and worship team at my church. We have a lot of favorite & familiar songs we love to play, but every now and then one of us will bring in something new to try. Last night I brought Gungor’s “Beautiful Things”¹ to the group. It is a simple, sweet song with a powerful and meaningful message. The moment I first heard the song it touched my heart. The opening lines speak to my core: “All this pain / I wonder if I'll ever find my way / I wonder if my life could really change at all...” The gist of the song is about the possibility of new life, that God makes things new, that he makes beautiful things out of us – his beloved children.

I wrote recently about God not choosing the most well-to-do or put together people to carry his message.² Generally, it seems God rather likes messes. The stories and major players throughout the Bible can be inspiration, reassurance or hope for us all in that we do not have to be slave to our human condition if we only turn to God. It’s as though he says, “Wait and see. Just look what I can do with YOU.”

He makes beautiful things out of us.

No matter how broken, how rebellious, how messy, he can make us beautiful. No matter how far we’ve fallen, how far away we’ve run, how many mistakes we’ve made, he can make us beautiful. No matter how dark, how lonely, how hopeless… He can make us beautiful.

“He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” (Isaiah 61:1-3; NIV)

“God, you are our Father.  We’re the clay and you’re our potter:  All of us are what you made us. Show us the way [you] work so we can live the way we’re made.” (Isaiah 64:4; 1:3; MSG)

My prayer today is that we let God, the great and masterful artist, work his beauty into us. May we allow him to form and shape us into his perfect image, into a design specific to each and every one of us, his beloved children. And then, may he grant us strength and courage to live the way we’re made!

Amen! =D

¹  Gungor’s “Beautiful Things” music video

² Dim Bulbs

Dim Bulbs

 “Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses?” (1 Corinthians 1:26-28; MSG, para.)

Sometimes I need to sit and remember where I was and who I was when I stepped across the line into this God-obedient life. At my core, I’ve always been me; this person who lives my life now always has been in there. It’s just that it was buried under layers of depression, persecution, addiction. And as I still struggle with being human – selfishness, insecurities, distraction, rebellion – there are moments I wonder if I’m really cut out for being a messenger in this God-life.

But God uses the dim bulbs to show how bright his light can shine.

How powerful the story of a person so beaten down who rises up in hope and light and goodness once he surrenders to God! How powerful the miracle of one who was so very lost and living in darkness who finds healing in Jesus and is forever changed! Flipping through the Gospels, the pages are littered with exactly these stories. The blind, the lame, the lepers, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the dregs of society – these were the people to whom Jesus was the closest.

Going back through the Old Testament, the story isn’t much different. Time and again, God chose the weak and insecure to do his greatest works. Jacob was a liar, Moses was a murder and fugitive who couldn’t speak well, Gideon was insecure, David was an adulterer¹... The list goes on.

God doesn’t choose the squeaky-clean to carry his strongest messages.

Holding myself to high standards, it’s easy to feel like a screw-up and a failure. What I forget in my humanity is that God finds strength in my weakness. If I am strong on my own, what need have I of God? I was broken that I could be mended, wounded that I could be healed and mired in darkness that I might come forth as a bearer of light. 

“But he said to me, “My Grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.” Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size – abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10; NIV/MSG)

My prayer today is that when I feel weak I remember that in my weakness, God shows his strength. May I remember that the core of my message lies in the miracle of healing by Jesus, who brought me forth from darkness into light, pulled me from the depths, resurrected me from the dead.

Amen! =D

¹ Genesis 27; Exodus 2:11-15; 4:10-12; Judges 6:15; 2 Samuel 11:2-5

Taxes vs. Death

 “Then Jesus said to them, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” (Mark 12:17; NIV)

I started my tax return today. Knowing that I’m not likely to win the lottery to solve financial issues, I jumped into my taxes in hopes of a refund. I was confident that this would be a way God would provide. As I clicked the last button, I felt sick to see that my state return was cancelled out by what I owed to federal.

Generally, I try not to talk dirty or mean about people. I may slip, but I really do try. Except when it comes to the IRS. Especially as it relates to taxes. The words I’ve used to describe how I experience them are profane, but best express how violated I feel time and again by taxes. And I feel like I have no power over them.

After indulging in willful disobedience and consoling myself with food that definitely does not fall under my Lenten dietary commitment, I sat down to write so I didn’t miss the bar on both commitments today. Instantly the story about giving to Caesar popped into my head.

As I prayed and pondered, then picked up and read the verse in its entirety, it hit me square in the face. “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” Giving to Caesar is easy. The government tells me I have to pay them money, so I pay it or suffer penalties. Giving to God? Well, I write a lot about how much I take back from God. I’m a thief and re-gifter to God: “Here, take this. No, I want it back. Here it is again. Can I see that for a minute? Please, I don’t want this; take it.”

I also had to look at what I don’t give to God that is God’s. Time, talents, spiritual gifts. I wrote recently that I don’t want to be that girl hiding her light under a bucket,¹ yet I’m standing face to face with a line of buckets under which I hide.

Lent provides me great opportunity to learn about myself and about my God-given work. I know I’m giving to Caesar what is his, but am I giving to God what is God’s? What am I holding back? Why? Honestly, I feel excited to explore this although I know it means hard work ahead.

Right now I’m making a commitment that will require great effort on my part: No more dirty talk about the tax man. God will provide for all my needs so long as I trust him to do so. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. And as I step into what may be part of that provision, just maybe I will start removing some buckets.

Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s; give to Me what is Mine; trust me to take care of the rest. Look at the birds and the flowers of the field, carefree in my care. How much more do I care for you! You will find all your everyday human concerns will be met.²

My prayer today is for the strength and courage to come out from under my buckets and step in willingness and obedience into the wide-open, wonderful God-life designed specifically for me. May you also find the way out from under your buckets.

Amen! =D

¹ Am I Consistent? See also Matthew 5:14-16

² Mark 12:13-17; Matthew 22:15-22; Matthew 6:25-34/Luke 12:22-34

Wandering Sheep

 “I have wandered away like a lost sheep; come and find me, for I have not forgotten your commands.”   (Psalm 119:176; NLT)

Hang around me a bit and you’ll surely hear me say something like, “Life can’t all happen on the mountaintop; growth happens in the valleys; if life was a plateau then it would be boring.” I’m a firm believer that I cannot know light without darkness just as I cannot know who I am unless I experience who I am not. By this belief, I must go through periods of time where I am not the person I want to be in order to know both who I want to be and who I AM.

Many people often refer to similar experience as desert times or being in the wilderness. It is time that I feel more distant from God, it is harder to hear him, and I feel a little lost. When I am in that place, it seems like no matter how much I think I should know the answers or what I should do to bring myself out of it, nothing works.

It’s beyond frustrating.

More often than not, though, what I find is that God patiently waits through my stubbornness for the moment of beautiful surrender when I throw my hands up and say, “God, I don’t have the answers, I don’t know what to do, I’m giving it to you. Please show me the way.”

I get self-confident when things go well. While self-confidence can be a good thing, it gets troublesome when I start to think I have the answers and attempt to take my life back under my own direction and management. What I need more than self-confidence is God-confidence.¹

A couple of years ago, a chance encounter with an out-of-town visitor led to conversation over coffee. The discussion primarily revolved around God even though she was not a believer. She met me with opposition at every turn until finally she voiced what bothered her most about our dialogue. With her voice agitated and slightly raised, she blurted out, “You can’t just totally let go and let God. The idea of total surrender is absurd. It can’t be done!” As I let her words settle in the air between us, a smile crept across my face as I calmly said, “Actually, it can. It was the best thing I ever did. It saved my life.”

Then things got good and even though I was thanking and praising God at every turn, I began to forget I needed to continue surrendering to him.

This is a cycle of my life. There is no better indicator that I’ve tried to take over than when things start to feel like they are getting out of control. If I find myself worrying, I’m probably not surrendering. I’ve wandered away. God is there, I know he’s there, but I’ve wandered over to the edge of the pasture, or perhaps just outside the gate, or, if I’m being really stubborn, well past the gate and off into the forest.

Knowing my mistake, I turn my face upward and admit what I’ve done. Then I ask for help. “I’ve wandered away. Please come find me.”

God wants me to completely rely on him. He wants me to trust him implicitly. Sometimes that means he’s going to let me make mistakes until I consciously recognize and admit what I’ve done and then earnestly seek his passionate love and care.

My prayer today is that I find where I’m trying to direct my life and then let it go. God’s got this.

Amen! =D

¹ “Forget about self-confidence; it’s useless. Cultivate God-confidence.” (1 Corinthians 10:12; MSG)

Stay With It.

 “Stay with it – that’s what is required. Stay with it to the end. You won’t be sorry; you’ll be saved.” (Matthew 24:13; Mark 13:13; Luke 21:19; MSG)

Ever been in a place where you wonder if it’s all worth it? Feel like staying in bed or going far away from everything are better options than continuing in your day to day life?

I know that place. I know those feelings.

As a survivor of a severe chronic depression that plagued me for twenty years, I am all too familiar with feeling like life simply isn’t worth it. In ways both active and passive, I sought to end my life on many occasions. The most familiar feeling for me was that of being trapped; somewhere inside I knew I didn’t really want to die, but I knew I really didn’t want to go on living.

It was a very dark, lonely and hopeless world. By the end I looked for any way to escape my pain I could find, which only exacerbated and worsened my fear and hopelessness. I couldn’t understand why God, who I knew loved me, would allow me to hurt so badly for so long.

The thing is, I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust him to heal me. I didn’t think I was worth it. Even when I cried out, “God, help me!” I didn’t really think he would. No matter how often I went to church, no matter how much scripture I read, no matter how many prayers I prayed, I was simply too afraid to believe God would really help me.

I was simply too afraid to believe God would really help me.

Fear is such a manipulative beast. When fear grips me, I can become paralyzed and forget the strength I have in my Great Creator. I can forget that though I am less than a grain of sand in the infinite Glory of God, he cares about me personally. He loves me and wants to help me and asks only that I turn, face him, open my heart and trust him.

Within our small human frame of reference, it is easy to ascribe human attributes to God. This makes it difficult to see how a being can truly love freely and unconditionally, and be always forgiving, gracious and merciful. This also makes it easy to compare God to people in our lives, including people who let us down, break promises, hurt us and cause us pain. Thank God, God is not human.

God is so much bigger. He’s so much bigger than all our worry, all our doubt – and all our fear.

God. Is. Bigger.

Pick up the Good Book and flip through the Gospels a little bit. You’re sure to run across at least one of many verses which find Jesus saying, “Courage, do not be afraid.”¹ Time and time again he reassures those who tremble in fear, those who do not feel worthy, the outcast, downcast and downtrodden. Time and time again, he lifts them up and encourages them.

He wants to do that for you and me, too. Take a deep breath and allow yourself for a moment to be transported back to the time when Jesus walked the earth. He walks through your town amidst a throng of admirers as you watch from the sidelines. In the one brief moment that your desperation to be free from your pain finally is greater than any fear, you find yourself suddenly in the throng, pushing past people, bending down and fighting through the crowd to get to Jesus. “If only I can get near him,” you think, “I can be healed.” You come up behind him and boldly reach for him, brushing his clothes. Instantly you feel different, you feel changed. As he turns toward you, you prepare to be humiliated in front of the crowd for wanting to get so close to Jesus. Instead, it grows quiet. You look up into his eyes and he smiles the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. He touches your chin and gently raises you up. “You took a risk and trusted me. Now you are healed and whole. Live well, live blessed.”²

Stay with it. Stay with it to the end. It’s worth it, trust me. There is hope and there is light. I find mine in the Sweet Soul I follow with all my heart, my Jesus, who calls me beloved and friend. I find mine in God who is bigger than anything and everything, who made all things seen and unseen. I find mine in a faith that finally allows me to trust, even when life gets hard here on this earth.

My prayer today is for those of you who struggle with darkness, hopelessness and despair. May you find peace and comfort and freedom from your fear. May you live well and live blessed, and find yourselves healed and whole.

Amen.

¹ Matthew 10:26, 28, 31; 14:27; 17:7; 28:5, 10

Mark 5:36; 6:50

Luke 5:10; 8:50; 12:4, 7, 32;

John 6:20 12:15; 14:27

I’ve only listed some Gospel verses here (likely not comprehensive, so go flip through the book to find more!), but many, many more verses of God reassuring us and telling us not to fear, to have courage because he is with us pepper the whole Bible throughout, Old Testament and New. :)

² Mark 5:25-34; Luke 8:43-48; Matthew 9:20-22

May I Interrupt?

“Simon Peter, when he saw it, fell to his knees before Jesus. “Master, leave. I’m a sinner and can’t handle this holiness. Leave me to myself.” (Luke 5:8; MSG)

Shortly before this moment, Jesus, in an effort to better teach the eager crowd closing in on him, interrupted Simon in his work and had him put his boat back out in the water. I would like to be able to read of this interaction and the time in-between, but maybe it is better to imagine it...

Simon, James and John spend a long, tiring night out on the lake only to come back empty-handed. They beach their boats and begin the thankless task of washing their large nets. Perhaps they think about how many nights there were like this, how they will provide for their families, when they will finally haul in a good catch. Who knows if they even notice or pay attention to Jesus and his growing crowd?

Then Jesus just climbs right into Simon’s boat. Totally hops in uninvited and then has the nerve to ask Simon to get in, too, and put the boat back out in the water. Simon recognizes Jesus as the man who recently healed his mother-in-law (Luke 4:38-39). Feeling a bit obligated, he complies with Jesus’s request, then sits nearby in the boat while Jesus teaches the masses gathered on the shore.

I can’t help but imagine Simon spent that time in the boat much like many of us do in the pew on Sunday. He catches bits and pieces of what Jesus says, but he is distracted. His mind is on the long night and lack of fish. He thinks about the net he has yet to wash. He knows better than to expect James and John will do it for him since he’s stuck out here with this Jesus character. Simon’s attention is feeble at best as he checks off his mental to-do list and tries to prepare for the coming day.

As Jesus wraps up his sermon, Simon yawns. Jesus turns to him and says, “Push out into deep water and let your nets out for a catch.” (Luke 5:4) Simon thinks, “Is he kidding? Seriously? I didn’t catch anything all night and I already have one net waiting for me to wash on the shore and now he wants me to take the boat out again and toss my clean nets out?” He summons all his courage and patience as he again remembers that Jesus healed his mother-in-law. Half-protesting, half-obedient, Simon does as Jesus asks, sure to point out the clear folly in his request as he threw the nets out. Immediately, the nets fill with fish. So many fish that James and John have to bring their boat out to help haul in the catch.

How often do I find myself in this situation? I’m tired, I’m frustrated, nothing’s going my way, I’m worried about bills, I don’t have enough time, and then – God interrupts. Absolutely no consideration for what I think or feel about it, he tells me to put the boat in the water. Then he talks for awhile and I sit in the boat, yawning and half-heartedly listening as I think about things I need to get done. Then God nudges me and says, “Go deeper.” Somewhat reluctantly, I go. And suddenly I find myself in that place of God’s Abundance, that Romans 5:1-2 promise of the Peace and Grace that come side-by-side with stepping out in faith.

I often feel like Simon Peter, falling to my knees and saying, “I do not deserve this.” Because I know, as Simon knew, that I could’ve done better, listened closer, tried harder, been more willing, etc, etc. The thing is, I never could be “good enough” for God’s Grace. I never could do or say enough to earn his Love. Which is why I am thankful that God’s Grace is freely given. There isn’t a thing I have to do to earn his Love – it is already mine without condition. And no matter how many times I fall, he will pick me up, dust me off and kiss me on the forehead as he says, “I forgive you.” Every time.

So how does Jesus reply when Simon falls to his knees and confesses his feelings of unworthiness?

“Jesus said to Simon, “There is nothing to fear.” (Luke 5:10b)

There is nothing to fear.

With that, Jesus tells Simon, James and John that they will be fishers of men. The three new disciples leave everything – everything – behind and follow Jesus. Because it never really was about the fish, was it?

My prayer today is that I work harder to stay focused on that which God reveals to me. It is so easy to be distracted by the things of this world and my daily life. I pray that I may strengthen my ears to therefore be quicker in perking them up when I hear the voice of my God speaking to me.

Amen!

Why Does God Allow Suffering?

“I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord; my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal. When friends said, “Everything will turn out all right,” I didn’t believe a word they said.” Psalm 77:2; MSG

Currently I am going through a training course geared toward providing pastoral care in a hospital setting. The course is rooted in the principles of Christian love and Christian care giving. Since it is taught in a hospital that is not faith-based we are challenged to move outside the “Jesus is the answer” box and provide Christian care without invoking the name of Christ out of respect for those whose faith journey follows a different path. This is hard for some, as all of us in the class have testimony to how being a believer has made all the difference in how we cope with and handle the presence of suffering in our lives. It proved an especially challenging exercise given the question we faced in our most recent class: "Why does God allow bad things to happen?"

We were given the week between classes to ponder the question and prepare for discussion. My thoughts on it ranged from answers found in my Christian faith to principles and ideas from Eastern religions, different philosophical musings and the plain ol’, “It is what it is,” ideology. I also asked a lot of people around me to hear their thoughts on the subject. In AA meetings that week I listened a little harder when people shared how they moved through trials and what their varied spiritual experiences were and are.

For the duration of class we carried on a very involved discussion. We covered every range of answers and lack thereof, we explored rebuttals, some shared stories, many shed tears, some struggled with how not to try to lead someone to Jesus or give "cheap grace." One gentleman especially struggled tonight because this coming Saturday is the one-year anniversary of his beloved wife's death. His faith was evident though, as through his tears he continued to give thanks and praise to God and shared how God moved through his wife's illness and death and the growth he experienced as a result. After class he was visibly having a hard time holding it together, so I walked over to give him a hug and he burst into sobs, lifting me off the floor as I hugged him tightly and he cried. I just held onto him for a little bit, then when I sensed his breathing slow, I told him I loved him, gave him an extra squeeze and walked away.

Ultimately, that is what I walked away with from the discussion. I'd gone in having concluded that I have plenty of answers to that question that can be tailored to all different kinds of people, but none is ever sufficient. In those crisis moments, those Psalm 77:1-10 moments, there isn’t really anything anyone can do or say to sufficiently explain suffering in a way that will bring comfort. However, I was unable to resolve that conclusion, thinking, okay, so then what? The lightbulb moment came in listening to everyone, to how much we want to fix people and show them the way, to the reminders from the chaplain that we are in the process, not the results, understanding it's okay not to have all the answers – perhaps the best answer is no answer at all, but a demonstration of Love through the simple act of having the Grace to allow people to be where they are, listening, genuinely caring and unconditionally loving. I believe, as experienced with my classmates and aware of it in myself, that sometimes we get so focused on how we can be of use and what that looks like that we forget to stay in the moment and instead block the incoming flow from the Spirit because we are trying to think our way to the best way rather than just letting God have his way.

I pray today that I may better learn how to let the Holy Spirit move through me, especially in opportunities to allow people to be where they are. May I be an instrument of God not only in my speaking, but even more so in my listening.

Amen!