Enough Already!

Do you ever get weary of this character building, you know, trials God brings into our lives to move us beyond childishness and into maturity?  Or maybe someone has said to you, "This hard time you are going through is so that you can help others going through similar circumstances."   Do you ever shout out, "Enough already!  I'm tired of going through all this trouble so I can empathize with someone else!"

Just this morning I read, "His faithful love endures forever," not once . . . but twenty six times. (Psa. 136)  By the end of the chapter the words seem rote and calloused.  I'm thinking, why do they keep saying this?  Then it became clear.

This love of God will not let me go!  It is enduring to the point that He refuses to let me remain as I am.  He loves so deeply that He continually brings challenge into my life to build me into the image of His Son, Jesus.  I might kick and scream against it, but His love is persistent and oh so patient.  And I am amazed!  How can God be that interested in my life, that He will take the time and the effort, yes, even the risk, to confront my immaturity?  Love like that is rare!   

Coming down from a retreat is hard and I've been having difficulties keeping my emotions in check.  They seek to control my life, to sway truth into making exceptions, until I start feeling entitled to rest, entitled to envy, entitled to complaints.  The more I nurture these emotions, the more they reign in my heart resulting in self-pity, sulking, and procrastination.  This is not the way I was meant to live.  

There are so many nice people out there, but I'm not one of them.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  I can put on a good front and pretend, but I know my heart and it is far from reaching that good standard.   Before long all this yuck oozes out.  I'm ashamed of my own self and wonder how I could be so childish.   

Yet, nice can be overrated.  My daughter recently told me, "Nice is just doing what pleases people.  If you do whatever others want, before long they will be calling you nice."  It opened my eyes to see that nice is not all its cracked up to be.  In fact, it can actually be a bondage. 

And so my goal is not to please people, but to honor the Lord with what is deeply embedded in my heart.  I want a purity within so that what I think, what I say, and what I do will always flow pure.  So often I think that holiness is for God's benefit, not my own.  But when I live in misery it causes me to realize that right living is really for my own well-being.

I've learned one solution to overcoming my emotions, that is, to simply do the next thing.  The depression, the yielding to my feelings, can be a form of procrastination away from where my energies should be spent.  If I keep my focus on what I am to be about, my Father's business, no time is left for unhealthy musings.   I'm not saying there are easy solutions, just that there can be answers.  There is joy to be found as I surrender to God's terms for my life.

Yes, the proof of God's Spirit within me is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  (Gal. 5:22-23) These qualities should be evident because I have given my life to Jesus.  But in order for Him to truly shine through me, I have to align my will with His, keeping in step with His Spirit.  Only then do I become a luminary that shines clear with a pure heart.

"Guard your heart above all else,
for it determines the course of your life."
 Prov. 4:23

The Trust Zone

I find it fascinating, these currents that move through the oceans.  In all the wild expanse of the untamed sea, there are passageways.  As the last two weeks dipped and swelled with monumental waves, God led me to a channel, a pathway of faith.

Though I could not see, I simply placed one foot in front of the other, trusting that He would take care of what concerned me.

In the midst of my helplessness I became keenly aware of God's presence, so real, so near.  I don't know how to describe it except to say I felt carried, lifted on His shoulders.   Every direction I turned, God spoke to me through His Word.

I just returned from our youth retreat.  I cannot speak for the students, but for me personally it was a weekend of blessing, because God met me in my weakness.  He answered when I called. 

I always try to have my ducks in a row long before the retreat is upon us, but this year God did not allow that to happen.  Instead, I was typing up lesson plans the night before the event, and it was not because I had been irresponsible.  In fact, God led me to the Scriptures I was to teach way back in September, and I had been meditating on these truths for some time.  But to come up with the specific outline, to arrive at a flow of thought, as well as visuals and songs to illustrate these truths was not coming to me quickly.  It was like God was saying to me, "Wait.  I will give it in my time.  Trust me."

Trust with twenty pairs of eyes bearing down on me?  Trust when others are counting on me to deliver something worth their time?  Trust when I don't know how to connect with both a sixth grader and a senior in high school at the same time?  Trust when I enter the weekend exhausted, a weekend that demands my energy 24/7?  Trust when I have prayed and it seems to fall on deaf ears? 

Yes, trust.  Because God compelled me to catch this current of faith.  He wanted me to risk my weakness and failure for His sufficiency, so that He could show Himself faithful. 

It started with a specific answer to prayer.  I was burdened for two young women who were not planning to go on the retreat.  It was like God was telling me, "I want these girls to hear this."  But how could they hear if they were absent?  And so I prayed earnestly, by name, for these women.  At the last minute they came.  They heard.   And God wowed my socks right off.

But it did not stop there.  The lessons came together with a flow that I did not even realize was happening until I was actually teaching them.  Furthermore, God gave me some visual illustrations that connected with the youth, not way ahead of time, but just in time.  I know God does that in order to keep me from becoming overly confident in my own strength.  In this way, I remain desperately dependent on Him.

At one point there was a dilemma and it had to do with Saturday's lunch.  I was at a loss and felt helpless, not knowing what to do, but again God showed Himself faithful and provided a solution.  Saturday afternoon I met more disappointment with a change of plans but God showed me my need to be flexible and He worked it out for good. 

At our Saturday night session the Lord's presence drew us in and settled my heart with an overwhelming peace and confidence in Him.  I knew, without doubt, that He was accomplishing His purpose through my life.  And He had been there all along.  There was, indeed, a pathway through the churning waves, for I watched Him lead me through on dry ground. 

A week before the youth retreat, I spoke to a group of women on faith.  The talk was a repeat, one I had given last year for our women's retreat.  But it was like God was making it new to me, showing me that faith does not plateau when we reach our victories.  He wanted me to continue trusting Him, only in a different area . . . through my present circumstances. 

One thing is certain.  Before I call, He answers.  I find nothing more satisfying, nor more thrilling than living in communion with my Heavenly Father, actively taking risks inside the trust zone.  He always remains faithful.  Always.  And as a result, my roots grow even deeper in Him.  

 

Do You Care?

I'm in this sea and I'm sinking.  In the middle of its depths, the safety of the shore far behind, I find the point of no return.  At the same time the banks ahead seem so far away.  Lord, don't you care that I'm drowning?  At o'dark thirty this morning, my husband read these words over breakfast and they awoke me right up from my grogginess.  (Mk. 4:38)

Why?  Because only yesterday I delivered a talk to a group of women on crossing our Jordan.  I spoke of living on that plane of faith, the realm of fighting giants and waging war.  But whenever I deliver a message or prepare a Bible study, it always pertains to what I am going through at the present time.  Always.  God sees to it. 

After yesterday's drama I felt exposed.  Did I say the right thing?  Was my personification of the characters foolish?  Did I say too much?  Or, I should have said it this way instead.  All these self-doubts began to weigh me down.  I wanted to hide and so I did. 

I ran up a mountain, appropriately named, The Liberty Cap.  The only car at the trail head, I was alone with my mountain.  Near the top, in the shade of those mighty cliffs, the air feels different.  Somehow the cliffs emit an intimacy which brings a hushed awe over the one still enough to listen.  There God revealed to me the answer. 

I knew, without doubt, that God had divinely appointed me to this speaking task.  I had great faith while in the preparation process and exercised faith in the delivery.   He even allowed me to see that His Spirit was indeed moving in the hearts of the women.  But now I must exercise faith on the other side and believe that it was just what He willed.  I must get past feeling stupid and believe that I was a tool in God's hands for His glory. 



The rest of this week looms large before me, and to look at it causes me to feel overwhelmed before the day scarcely begins.  But God whispers, "Believe.  Only do the next thing, and I will take care of the results. Take a step.  Trust Me."  

Surely, the path of the Lord "leads through the mighty waters--a pathway no one knew was there."  (Psa. 77:19)  His way is not around the obstacles, but rather right through the middle of them.  And as I step in faith, only placing one foot in front of the other, He opens up the way before me.  It is a way that I cannot see, but, none the less, remains, for He is with me. That is all that matters.

Yes, God does care.  He can calm the turbulent waves, but even more importantly, He quiets my heart in the midst of them.  I trust Him to sustain me through the rest of this week, through every task set before me.  I cling to Him while He holds me fast.  

"Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty."  Psa. 91:1

What I Crave

Input.

Output.

In the computer world, this is a long time standing principal, but it also holds true in every other area of life.  Why, when it comes to God, do we expect differently?

With these sunny skies of our balmy January, I've had an inkling towards gardening.  It is too early to be planting, obviously, but one thing remains true.  No matter the quality of the seed, the success of the plant depends greatly on the condition of the soil.  Every ounce of energy I invest in improving the soil is worth it in fruitfulness.

We relish in the produce.  Oh the delight of the first tender peas, the baby spinach, the radishes, and sweet lettuce!  But long before I receive these blessings, I first work the soil.  I labor.  I invest.   

The seed of the Word of God is of highest quality.  The problem is not in the seed, but in the soil of my heart.  How is it that at the same worship service one is touched, inspired, and revived, but another is left unchanged, even claiming the service was dead?  Was God's Spirit really absent?  We know it cannot be, for "where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them." (Matt. 18:20)  God promises His presence, but we can miss Him entirely. How?  It all depends on our attitude, the soil of our hearts.   

We might come away from a service thinking, I got nothing out of it.   If that is the case maybe its because we never put anything into it.  "Sing us a song," the people demanded of God's chosen. (Psa. 137:3)  And we start to think that worship is a performance, something that someone else does for us rather than the surrender of our own hearts. 

Growth only comes as I participate with the Lord.  I recently heard this on the radio, "Each of us has as much of God as we want of Him." (Dr. David Jeremiah)  After thinking about that all week, I have to agree.  Do I truly desire the Lord with all of my being?  We sing, "Better is one day in Your courts than thousands elsewhere."  Really?  Is that the craving of my heart?  Maybe if it were, if all I sought was "to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His Temple", worship would take on a whole new dimension.  (Psa. 27:4)

God wired each of us differently.  One person wears their emotions on their sleeve, while another, though just as intense in their focus and passion, might wear it on the inside.  Yet, both need to be sensitive to one another and accept how each is made.  Worship is not something that can be driven.  Furthermore, forcing someone to be who they are not, kills worship.  And so where is the balance?  Perhaps not in how we worship, but in Who, not in the level of expression, but in the preparation of the heart.  

And so I ask myself, "What do I crave?"  The intensity of my seeking is probably only as great as the desire for what I crave.  If I truly want more of God, I will pursue Him in greater measure.  Input.  Output. 





P.S.  There is one exception where this does not hold true, and it has everything to do with eternity.   Sandwiched between grace and mercy is this, "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom. 5:8)  I put nothing into my salvation, but I receive "every spiritual blessing in Christ." (Eph. 1:3)  I simply place my trust in the work of Jesus, calling on the Lord to forgive my sin, and His blood washes me clean. (Rom. 10:13) I am set free.

My position in Christ does not budge.  It is the anchor for my soul.  But then, like kneading color into play doh, we work out, or practice what God has worked in.  Not as passive onlookers, but active participators in His work as He conforms us into His image.   

  

Worn Out Christmas

You know how it is.  One month past Christmas and some still have their lights up.  It's like they are clinging to the magic, hoping these lights will dispel the doldrums and dirge of January.  But somehow the same lights that brought comfort and joy at Christmas seem old, worn out, and mocking in January.  And dare I say it?  Even irresponsible!

It was weeks ago that I undecorated my tree.  But its branches were still so green, that I could not bring myself to dispose of it just yet.  Instead, I kept its lights intact and dragged it to my front porch where, for a few weeks, it's been friends with my neighbor's tree across the street.  Their quiet limbs whisper secrets back and forth, hoping passers by will notice their last ditch effort to push back the dark. 

However, this weekend, forty five minutes before a mob of middle school girls and their parents were to arrive at my house, I was fighting with a tree.  Motivated by what they would think, I had to get it off my front porch.  The tree at last succumbed, ready for the fire.

In December people make a conscious effort toward peace and good will to all.  I don't know if New Year's resolutions make us grumpy, but somehow the warm fuzzy feeling in the air turns sour.  When the lights come down, so does the nice.  Between verbal backbiting and public murmuring, it would seem there had been no Christmas at all. 

Spring is coming, when all things are made new, but in the meantime, can we just shine these little lights a bit longer?  Can we think about what we are saying, doing, or promoting and how it might do more damage than good?  So what if it is my pet-peeve or my agenda.  If it hurts another, is it really worth it?  Don't we have anything better to do?

The coward spouts their case on the public scene, a place where they are accountable to no one and where they can gain the support of others on the broad road, worn out Christmas lights.  Many hop on this band wagon, but it takes all the power of Christ in us to remain silent.  We would rather revel in the satisfaction of verbally 'punching it to them', a selfish delight.  

But the courageous, the truly brave, come with their complaints on the private spectrum, maintaining the accused dignity and respect, giving the accused an opportunity to present their perspective and to clear up any misunderstandings.  This is the narrow road which leads to life, peace, and restoration . . . real change, but few choose it.

How can there be fellowship between light and darkness?  There is a chasm between the two, for when God created the light he "separated the light from the darkness." (Gen. 1:4)  They cannot coexist.  And "God saw that the light was good".  Good!  And yet, my nature is drawn to the darkness because in reality my sin loves it, deceiving myself into believing dark is good.  But God knows I am most happy in the light.  Only in His light will I find peace and good will to all.

Though most of my Christmas decor comes down shortly after the holidays, I purposefully leave a few lights until Valentine's Day.  Their warm glow encourages me through the dark winter, a reminder of the beauty of light, The Light.  Why did Jesus go through all that trouble to lay down His life?  Why did He willingly humble Himself so painfully?   Was it for separation?  No, God is not like that.  It was for restoration:  fellowship with our Heavenly Father and unity among brothers and sisters.   

My tree might be gone, but I do not part with Light, for He continues to warm my soul, guard my heart, and guide my steps. 

Lord Jesus,"Let no unwholesome talk come out of my mouth, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."  (Eph. 4:29) And do not let me grieve the Spirit of God who so graciously dwells within me. 

On The Move

I can sense it.  At every turn I find a squelching of hope, a struggle which does not let up, but goes on and on, one thing after another, pushing and shoving, seeking to gain an advantage, to defeat and destroy.  This has been my experience over the last few weeks.  From physical injuries to emotional strife, from discouragement to failure, sometimes the shadow looms large. 

Okay, so I can hardly stand to look at this, but I keep it big to illustrate my point.  Sorry. 

However, this morning as I met with the Lord, I saw Him, high and lifted up, with a view on my trouble.  The turmoil is only a stirring of the waters.  God is on the move, and whenever God is present, there I find also the forces of darkness fighting strong.  It seems He is about to do a new thing in my life, yet, I cannot place my finger on it.  Only this.  I'm listening closely for His voice.  I don't want to miss His activity nor His direction. 

Just as a child cannot be birthed without struggle and pain, so there is this wrestling that occurs before the breakthrough.  Often, in the midst of life, I do not perceive the presence of God until shortly after, when my spirit senses His touch and my heart exclaims, "Wait!  Was that God?  I think I just encountered Him!"  And my soul is hushed with a holy awe of what I just witnessed.  This happened last week, and then again this morning. 

God is on the move.  He is accomplishing His purpose not only in the broad scheme of world events, but also in the most minutest details of my own personal life.  Sometimes I forget of His power and control.  I forget that just a word from His mouth can melt mountains, the earth is His footstool, and clouds the dust of His feet.  He's got this! 

Furthermore, I am His child, "with whom He is well-pleased."  (Mk. 1:11)  God is not mad at me, nor distant, nor aloof.  That is nothing but lies.  I'm amazed at how the presence of God can be so very real, so near, and at the same time, these lies threaten to push Him away.   May "the meditation of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." (Psa. 19:14)  The phrase is so convicting.  This is why I pray earnestly, Lord, guard my heart, for every thought comes from that place and is crucial to my well being.

It's been awhile since I've read the Psalms, and as my personal quiet time has taken me there, my heart is swept up with heavenly vision, a plane not seen from below.  In that other world, my heart has been encouraged, so much so, that there is this joy, an unexplainable energy.  And yet, my circumstances have not changed.  The work which must be expended to accomplish His purpose, the fight, and the pressure of deadlines still remains.  It continues to take all the strength of my body, an ongoing state, to truly love the Lord my God with all of me.  But the presence of the Lord, His life in me, makes all the difference to my perspective. 

One assurance brings me great comfort, that "even though I walk through the valley of the shadow...I will fear no evil", because "God prepares a table for me in the presence of my enemies," and "my cup overflows." (Psa. 23:4,5-6)  In fact, my heart is so full right now I am nearly bursting!  And like footprints, goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life.  This boggles my mind!  No matter what I'm going through, nothing can separate me from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus! (Rom. 8:38)  Nothing.  And because God has only my good in mind, I fear no evil!  His grace is enough. 

Who is like Him?  There is no one.  None even come close.  He tells me, "Be still," little one . . .  mighty warrior, "and know that I am God."  (Psa. 46:10)

My Anchor Holds

A woman sprints toward the United States embassy, a 100 yard dash of life or death!  Her Soviet pursuer lunges close behind, gaining speed.  At last he catches up, reaching for her shoulder, but the woman, spurred on by adrenaline, doesn't yield.  Instead she pushes her arms back, releasing both her jacket and the Soviet's grip, shouting out, "Open the gate!  I'm an American!  I'm an American!" Just in time, the gate opens and the woman slips through.  Safe!  Whew! 

Though I have not watched this movie in a very long time, the intense scene remains vivid in my mind.  And in recent days it has become very real for me.  While the accuser condemns and chases hard after me I sprint to the gate crying out, "I'm a child of God!  I'm covered by the blood!  I'm a citizen of heaven!"  The gate opens and clanks behind me, locked securely by Jesus Himself.  Safe! 

This is the anchor for my soul, that Jesus has gone before me, taken my shame upon Himself. (Heb. 6:19) Spit on, mocked, and beaten, and then falsely accused, he endured an unfair trial where He knew to defend himself would only fall on deaf ears.  And so He said nothing and died for my sins, in my place.  Now I stand secure in Him, where "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."  (Rom. 8:1) 





It's been a rough week and I'm trying to sort it all out.  When it seems that years of pouring out my life is still not enough, my soul weeps, losing its courage to move forward. 

Yet, I firmly believe that with every criticism, there is an element of truth, an area that God is bringing to my attention for change.  Instead of discouragement, I'm beginning to be energized, spurred on toward a precise focus with less distraction, a purging of my own insecurities and prideful ambitions.

I've always had a hard time understanding this phrase from the book of Hebrews, "we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us," because the word flee seems like I should be running away  from something, not toward  it. (Heb. 6:18)  But now I get it.  "Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.  He has become a high priest forever..." (Heb. 6:20)  This is why I run toward Him because it is my only safe place.  This is not a slow jog, but rather an all out sprint, my 100 yard dash.  My accuser is right.  Yes, I failed.  I let people down.  I have no excuses, only this.  Let him who is without sin cast the first stone . . .


because we are all in the same boat together, with Jesus, our only safe haven. 

Jesus is the one who holds us.  He alone keeps us from falling and I would hope that we could fight together against our common enemy rather than each other.  I earnestly pray that the love of our Savior would cause us to love what He loves. 

Despite seasons of sickness, boundaries of structure, or mistakes of its crew, staying aboard is still better than to abandon ship, for it is what God designed to accomplish His mission.

Storms are inevitable.  They will come, often causing some churning of the stomach.  God has not promised a life of ease. And these waters can be hard to navigate. Yet, in the midst of the storm we run, not away from each other, but in support of one another, toward our safe place, Jesus, our refuge.

I know a place, a wonderful place,
where accused and condemned
find mercy and grace,
where the wrongs we have done
and the wrongs done to us
are nailed there with Him
there at the cross.
 (lyrics by Guy Penrod)