#NotMyEnemy

There is an epidemic of fear, hate, and bitterness running rampant on our globe right now. And for some reason we were momentarily lulled into the lie that America was immune.

I think it is safe to say we have had our wake up call.

And as my heart breaks over the strife and the pain, I have to shout it out: This is not the way.

This is not the end. It is not the end of our story.

It is the middle. The part where the characters try to make things right. And in the most intriguing stories I've read, usually the characters get it wrong a few times.

So I'm wondering this: since as Christians we live in the full knowledge that this is not the end of our story, are we willing to extend grace to the characters around us who mess things up? Or even admit that we could be messing up too?

Are we able to discern between those who are maliciously attempting to destroy lives, and those who simply think differently?

Are we willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe, just maybe, those who disagree with us aren't the villains trying to destroy the world? Maybe we even have a bit of villainy in ourselves as well?

Maybe our battle is truly not against flesh and blood, "but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places." (Eph. 6:12)

If my battle is not against a person, but against the powers of hell, then in all of my dealings with that person I must take one course of action every. single. time.

I must pray. I must pray for them. I may even need to pray with them.

I must look into the face of the people I believe are committing the vilest crimes against humanity and I absolutely must pray for them. Jesus told me to. Jesus prayed for me.


And when I just can't take it and I want to scream at those I see as my enemies, I have to remember that at one time I was an enemy of God. What did God choose to do with me at that time? Pursue me. Send His only Son to die for me. In His love and mercy and justice, He punished my sin on His Son. On His Son. And while it is completely contradictory to my sinful nature (COMPLETELY), He calls me to pick up my cross and do the same, to sacrifice the time He has given me on His altar. To offer up myself, indignation and all, and use His time to pray for His creatures, the very people He chose to create. The very ones He died for.


I don't want to do this. I have to. Not simply because God says so, but because there will always be another battle to fight- another person with whom I strongly disagree. Another person to rouse my "righteous" indignation. And if I allow myself to give in to the lie that these are my battles to fight alone, I will be embittered and angry forever- incapable of living in the thankfulness and joy to which God also implores me. I will have forgotten that God is God and I am not, and I will place myself in the judgment seat when I actually stand just as condemned as the person I am attacking.

I must view my neighbor through the lens of God in Christ Jesus. That is my only hope for peace and wisdom. The moment I forsake those lenses for my own fallen ones is the moment I bow to hopelessness and judgmental actions. Instead, I am called to bow before God alone. To utter "Thy will be done," and keep on living like the King is still on His throne. A heart that submits to the Lord is a heart that has hope even when they are in broken relationships at a broken time.  



So what should I do? Take action- but take it in the calm confidence of grace. Stand against injustice. Speak up for those who have no voice. Love my neighbor as myself. And realize that fighting hate with hate is pointless. As a mom who listened to "He started it, she started it," more times than I can count this morning, I do have to say hateful retaliation solves nothing. (Though I did congratulate them on cooperating with each other to drive me crazy.)



We have these words on our wall and I believe they rest there for such a time as this: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that."- Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

We can only be lights in the darkness if we choose to answer temporal trials with the certainty of eternity. 

My words will only matter if I speak truth with the absolute assurance that my words are not coming from a heart smoldering with hatred, but from a heart burning with love for the victims and the criminals.

I can only do that if I first remember where I came from, where I stand with God because of Christ. 

And I must remember that true and lasting reconciliation comes only from God. No amount of organizing, and posting, and protesting can accomplish the work of changing hearts. That belongs to God. Which means that while I am responsible for my actions, I am not responsible for the results.

Seek justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8) May I be given the strength to live this way no matter what the future holds.

The Post Where I Broach the Subject of People-Induced Stress

My son's balloon lasted all of 2 minutes this morning, and the "POP" that heralded its demise was music to my ears.

I am not balloonaphobic, or some sort of balloon bigot. It is just that the benefits of their delightfully cheap mode of entertainment is often outweighed by the obnoxious distraction they are when we have stuff to get done. Like getting ready for school, for example.

So when the kids discovered the treasury of old balloons stashed in the garage amongst God-only-knows-what, and then proceeded to slobber all over them before shoving their shimmering, slimy, limp balloons in my face to the chorus of "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE," I was done. I thought of every single thing they had to accomplish before I would even contemplate touching one of those slobbery rubber specimens.

The kiddos were diligent and completed their tasks. I wiped the balloons off thoroughly, blew them up substantially (in hopes their lifespan would be diminished due to explosion), and handed them off to my husband to tie off since my arthritic fingers could not get the job done.

Then this morning my son comes in with a balloon he's blown up and asks me to tie it. I remind him who I am and what I am capable of, and he seeks out his dad. The balloon is tied, banished to the boy's bedroom, and promptly popped on the popcorn ceiling. Victory.

This morning, I empathized with the balloon.

For almost a year now I have submitted to a regiment of nutrition and lifestyle guidelines in an effort to heal my body of the chronic illness of rheumatoid arthritis.* As is typical for most RA sufferers, after years and years of medication the medicines stopped working. Then one day God directed some people into my life that put me on a path to healing. A path with strict nutrition guidelines, rest prescriptions, and the limiting of stress. A ministry family with 4 kids- what could go wrong?

The nutrition has become second nature, and my lack of coffee and sugar of any kind really doesn't stress me out like it once did. My daily allotment of rest is a little tougher to handle since I don't have any substances to prop me up. I used to "run on dunkin'" and now I walk tortoise-like through each day hoping to get as much done as possible.

It's the stress that I have had to watch closely. Because out of all three guidelines stress is the most unpredictable.

And I don't think this is true for just me.

I have had to view my life through latex. I have had to monitor the pressure in my balloon. I have had to decide exactly what to fill my life with because if I am careless I will explode, and that means physical pain.

I am convinced I am not the only person struggling with stress, so I am going to share with you lovely readers what I have found to be an incredibly helpful tool (outside the Bible directly) to handle people-induced stress.

So you know what to look for
in the bookstore.

Brant Hansen is a hilarious human being. I haven't met him personally, but I listen to his podcast, which is pretty much the same thing. I am sure I will see him someday and he will know precisely who I am since he talks to me so frequently. His writing has me scrambling for a pen to underline, and annoying my husband with "Listen to this!" He is transparent and  definitely unafraid to be a "non-example" of what to do. I purchased his book Unoffendable after hearing his segment on The Eric Metaxas Show podcast. What I expected was a methodical walk through the Scriptures to prove his point that we are not at all entitled to our anger. What I received was a confrontation, not to my beliefs, but to the way I was living- and I didn't even know I was doing it. I realized that if I really took the Bible seriously on this point it would change my life immediately. I ordered the book and loved it. He didn't waste time making up new truths. He said, "Here's what the Bible says about how we should view our anger and this is what it looks like in real life." It made me think and practice, and I can see a difference.

It's chapter titles like this that keep me reading...

The chronically ill part of me loves this benefit- when I am not wasting my energy and life clutching the offenses against me, I have more energy and patience for the things I love. People-induced stress is one of the biggest drains on our lives. Since we can't take the "people" part out, why not follow God's prescription of forgiveness?

I wish I could sum the book up in a sentence, but I don't want to cheat you out of reading it. It is a quick and witty read which complements the depth of its meaning quite perfectly.

What I will say is this:

Today is a new day. A day to practice forgiveness in the little things because some day we will have to practice forgiveness for something big, and won't it be easier if our forgiveness muscles aren't all atrophied and whatnot? 

A day to face that same person who gets our goat over and over again and forgive them before they ever open their mouth.

A day to remember that we have been saved not because we are the moral superior to an

 

 
yone, but because God loves us fully and completely through the work of His Son, Jesus Christ.

A day to remember that we have already received the best news we will ever get, and to let that color our response to the infractions against us that pale in comparison to our eternal salvation.

A day to refuse to be shocked by the callousness and carelessness of humanity, and to let things go because haven't we all been callous and careless and isn't it forgiveness to which God calls us?


A day to trade our anger for action. Anger doesn't accomplish the righteousness God requires (James 1:20). Love in action does that.


A day to quit our occupation of judge. Retire! Let someone else discern people's motives and judge people's hearts- someone like God. We really aren't that good at it anyway.


A day to let go of our imaginary control. God knows our issues. He knows what has gone down. He is a God of mercy and a God of justice- just look at the cross.


A day to wipe the scoreboard of offense clean and look at our offender through the eyes of the One who made them.


A day to rest in who God is, and who you are in Him. You are forgiven and loved completely.




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* In case you are wondering- yes, the program is working.

Why Speaking Life isn't Cute- it's Critical

The sentence that draws a groan from the mouths of parents of healthy kids everywhere... "There's something going around."

Sick. And the animated germs float through the various scenarios in our mind as we reluctantly, intentionally, put our children in close quarters with other potentially contagious human beings.

At school.
Work.
Store.
Library.
Church.

And the only way to escape contamination is quarantine. Not of the sick- of the healthy. Who has time for that?

So as the coughs and sniffles infiltrate our home atmosphere, I have to ponder another illness with symptoms just as apparent and far more damaging.

Toxic words.

It's not a new concept. As old as sin itself, toxic words have been creeping around here lately and it really is time to knock them out.

The breath God Himself breathed into the first man, that He gives us graciously so that we may praise and exalt His name, we transform into noxious vapors bent on destruction. And any ignorant, careless, even harmless statement injures us. The pain turns our focus inward and we perpetuate the pain in the ears of another. Continuing the cycle. Spreading the germ of hurt and hate.

I wish I could say there was a vaccination. A way to prevent the hurtfulness of others from invading our hearts and poisoning our words, but there just isn't- not yet. Pain, death, and sin are tight for sure.

But what sets us apart as God's holy people has never been that we remain emotionless and untouched by human wrongs. It is the Spirit living in us that gives us the strength to stop the spread of the toxicity, and provide the pain relief of love, mercy, forgiveness

What sets us apart is the new life we have in Christ that makes it possible to "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil." (Ephesians 4:26-27)

Let's be honest, the devil will use it all if we give him the chance. He will twist words, thoughts, actions to offend us and break apart the relationships God intends to restore and strengthen. I know far too many families in strife over hurtful speech. Far too many people who have left their church home because someone chose to harbor hurt rather than foster forgiveness.

Left unchecked, the toxicity of our speech can lead to death. You've seen the casualties.

So now what? Now we choose. Do I truly fix my eyes on the Author and Perfecter of my faith? Do I really believe that I belong to and reflect the One and Only man who ever was healthy, who did not quarantine Himself away from the miserable patients, but who came to be Emmanuel, God with us?

Or do I bow down and worship my temper? My anger? My pain? My narcissism? My insecurity?

If you choose the latter, there isn't much I can do for you. But if you truly believe the former, then there is hope. Real, abiding, living hope. And it will refresh your soul.

But first, we all have to be quick to repent. Victim or no, we've knowingly infected those around us. Only through the eyes of forgiveness (not perfection) can we then spread the soothing balm of kindness and understanding to the injured around us.

We can use our platform, our influence, only for what is helpful. That means keeping our raw emotions about other people off Facebook, Twitter, etc. Venting is necessary, no doubt. Find a journal or a trusted and objective friend with which you can work out your difficulties. Sharing our rational opinions on Facebook or wherever, and being open to real feedback is fine, but veiled ranting does no good. In fact, I'll make you a deal. If you really have to get something off your chest, PM me on Facebook or Twitter. If you have my number, call me or text. I'll put it in the vault and you won't suffer the indigestion of eating your words later.

We can pray that God opens our eyes to the hurt snaking into our speech and gives us the resolve to say, "This stops here. I will not let that person's hurt rob me of my joy in Christ and affect my treatment of others".

We can take the difficult relationships in our lives and imagine better. Imagine the best possible way this relationship can be healed, and pray about it. Forgive generously. Then as far as it depends on you, work to make a better relationship. Leave the rest up to God. You do not have the one relationship God cannot heal.

Then when we screw up we can repent again and live in forgiveness daily. It might seem like a cycle, but I'd take a cycle of resurrection over a cycle of death any day. I think you would too.

Let's start a kindness epidemic.

Counting on Christ and Keeping Track

You should know I tried this ultra-natural ultra-moisturizing treatment on my hair. In my effort to get rid of all things scented, and not spend a fortune on hair products*, I read yet another article about the crazy miraculous benefits of coconut oil. So I did it. About 10 minutes before my shower I gently coated my hair with coconut oil. I let it sit, then washed it out. Then washed it again. And again.

I think I did something wrong, maybe? It took roughly 5 washings over 3 days to get all the oil out. During that time I shoved my head into a hat and called it good. One silver lining to having sick kids- I don't have to worry about facing the world with straight up greasy hair.

All this to say: I screw things up on a regular basis. And things bigger than tropical hair.

Which makes it tempting to play it safe. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Because I honestly live my life like a giant golf game. Unintentionally, I keep track. And the goal is to have the least amount of screw ups before getting it right. Failure hurts. Why oh why go through it unnecessarily? I look at my kids weekly, after another screw up, and go, "Hey look, I've never done this before."

It's true. I've never lived this day before, raised an almost 10 year old girl like my oldest, or raised any other kid like my other kids.

So the most tempting thing to do would be to tell myself to stop keeping track. I could tell you the same thing. Stop keeping track. Just live. There's only one problem. We can't seem to do it. Sure, some are better than others at it, but at some point do you ever look at something you've done or said, and think, "Really? Again?"

I am beginning to think there is a reason we keep track. God keeps track. For those in Christ, that doesn't have to be a scary thing. And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of  your flesh, God made alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This He set aside, nailing it to the cross. -Colossians 2:13-14

I believe the "keeping track" part of us is part of God's character in us. The distortion and sin comes in when we use it to focus on ourselves or others. Job kept track of his good works, his faithfulness. God kept track of His own faithfulness, His own greatness. God won out big time. (Job 40-41)

I'm not going to tell you to stop keeping track. I will say that we need to redirect that very natural tendency toward a much more Worthy Subject. Let's keep our eyes fixed on the Author and Perfector of our faith- let's keep track of His faithfulness. His deliverance. His mercy.

We don't need to keep track of ourselves- He does that already. You know when I sit and when I rise... Psalm 139. 

And He does it in perfect love.

How would we live if we just kept our eyes on all the ways God shows us His love, namely in Christ, and stopped worrying about doing it all just right? It would be a messier life for sure, but so much larger than what we can fit into our safe little boxes.

So, can we make a deal? How about when we make mistakes or just blatantly bad choices, instead of putting another tally under our own "screw up" column, we put the tally under God's column- and count on Him to be faithful and forgiving? It will make all the difference.

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* By the way, if you know what I did wrong with the coconut oil, or know of some inexpensive unscented products, I'd be so grateful if you shared your wisdom with me. :)

Beyond the Mirror

Most women I know who have sworn off cosmetics have done it for altruistic reasons- fasting from vanity and chemicals, or protesting animal testing. Not me. A couple months ago I stopped wearing makeup precisely for vanity's sake. I haven't sworn it off for good, or even for the week, but it occurred to me that I sleep on this face and the skin isn't getting any more elastic, so maybe I should save my eyelids from sagging and give up eye shadow. Not to mention the money I save on not buying the stuff. So, in reality, I'm just cheap.

But I almost didn't make it. I didn't usually wear a ton of make up, but still. Every single time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'd groan a little. There's the woman who gave up. I had lots of friends who go sans makeup, and never once had I thought that about them, but this was my face. I'd depart the mirror only to look again later and be reminded of what my face actually looks like.

I probably sound shallow. I didn't lose sleep over it, but it is an uncomfortable thing to forget what you look like. To get used to being "just you." No frills. Plain old you.

And plain old me has been reading a lot about being uncomfortable lately. My walk through the Bible had me reading through Exodus and Leviticus recently. The last couple days especially have been heavy on the laws and the sacrifices. I'd hate to be the priest on mildew and body sore duty.

Clean, unclean. Over and over. Sacrifices. Atonement. Offerings. I couldn't read it without thinking, I'd be unclean all the time! Seriously, those were busy priests sacrificing and making offerings day in and day out for people like me who fall short. Were there standing appointments I wonder? See you this time tomorrow, Aaron! On a daily basis, God's people got a long look in the mirror at themselves. No frills. Unclean.

But the craziest part of it all was that God stayed with them. These unclean people who would just as soon return to slavery or be absorbed into pagan life- God sat in the midst of them. These rules and regulations seemed a bit much until you got a glimpse of the Most Holy God making camp with them.

For I am the Lord who brought you up out of the land of Egypt to be your God. 

You shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.”

Leviticus 11:45

40 years in the desert and 40 days of Lent are not just cute symbolism. These days we look in the scriptural mirror and get a good glimpse of our fallen state. No sacrifices we offer could atone for the wrongs we have done. No measures taken on our part could bring about healing and holiness in our lives.

But it goes beyond that.

It compels us to look beyond our unclean selves into the presence of the Holy God that delivered us from slavery and makes camp in our lives.

Because He chose us.

Because He loves us.

Because sacrifice must be made so we and God can live together.

And that is exactly what He did.

Praying for you, Dear Friends, as you travel in the wilderness this Lent. I pray you see beyond your shortcomings and sinfulness to the God who abides with you and within you. He is so faithful. So so faithful.

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Linking up today with simply wonderful Simply Beth. Check her blog out- you'll just love her :)

Just One Day {He Will Deliver}

I can't think of a more appropriate way to begin Lent than an Ash Wednesday morning meltdown.

If you are preparing to read a hilarious account of my children's impetuous hi-jinks, think again. The meltdown was mine. And when you think meltdown, think nuclear. Think Mt. Wild Woman eruption. Think oatmeal expanding in the microwave and running down the sides of the bowl. Yuck.

That was basically it. All because of my own hang ups with the quality of my housekeeping. I guess the good part is that the only one who ended up in tears was me.

"I quit. I'm a horrible mom. I'm getting a different job."

My husband held me, rubbed my back, reassured me that I was a "good mom." But my conscience told me otherwise.

We decided to come up with a plan. My husband is giving up yelling for Lent. I told him if that was the case with me, I would have blown it already. In fact, if I had given up yelling, swearing, or crying, I would have blown all of those in record time.Thankfully, I just gave up coffee.

Wait a minute... "Do you think that's why I'm acting this way?"

"Well..." I could hear the gears turning as he contemplated the best response. "Maybe that would explain it a little."

He reminded me that the company coming wouldn't care what the house looked like. Rebecca would understand. She has five kids and is so full of grace, it just sloshes right out of her every time she moves. (You like that image, Sloshy Rebecca? :) )

"I know," I said. "That's not the point. I'm just asking for one day. I'm not asking for every day. I'm not even asking for every week. I can't get my house together for one day. Just one day!"

So today is the day after and I guess I can only say Thank God.

I wrote about Lent last year. About how its turbulence shakes us out of the inevitable settling in our souls for the comforts of this world. It's about returning to the Lord. Looking to the stone that the builders rejected.

I'll give it to you straight, yesterday was a day where dawn to dusk I had to lean on Jesus to get me through.

And that is a gift.

I was reminded of that it in my desperately needed quiet time this week too. In Genesis 12, God promises to give Abram's offspring the land at Shechem. So Abram builds an altar and worships God there.

The land hadn't been delivered to them yet. It was just at God's word that Abram found reason to worship. There was no "show me the money" attitude that we so often require today when it comes to worshiping God.

Just one day. That's all I was asking. God promises to deliver. Only He will give me days without end. One day my act will get put back together. The tears, the yelling, the poison words- those will be done. There will be no more begging for help, because my Helper will be there.

In the meantime, until that land is mine, I will believe His promise and I will worship. The altar may be a coffee-stained counter, or a laundry-covered basement, or a tear-stained pillow. But He makes beautiful things out of dust.

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Linking late with the always fabulous, Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday <3

Rats in the Cellar and the Strong-Willed Child

Shortly after becoming pregnant with our second child, I decided to get to the library and check out some more parenting books. This new endeavor would naturally take more parenting skills that I had yet to develop. I perused the shelves, in search of any of the books I had seen in the bookstore, but was too cheap to buy, until one book caught my eye. I snatched it up, took it home, and set to reading.

 

The name of the book, The New Strong-Willed Child by Dr. James Dobson. After all, other than some clinging issues, our first was a rather compliant child, but I couldn't afford to take any chances. I needed to be "prepared" in the eventuality that this second one was more headstrong.

 

I read the first chapter. The second. Then quit. It freaked me out. A young mother, I was already struggling with the idea that I would be capable of loving another child as much as the one I already had. If this second child acted like any of the case studies in Dr. Dobson's book, I was petrified that I wouldn't love the child at all. Plus, it just looked like so much work to love that kind of child. And mothering one obedient child was tiring enough.

 

Our second, a son, had issues like every other kid, but being strong-willed wasn't one of them. Antagonizing, anxious, goofy, sensitive- he's all of those. Strong-willed? Not really.

 

Then I had the privilege of raising a third child. For this child I prayed. And God let me have it. I wonder why Dobson's book doesn't grace our shelves as a source of constant wisdom.

 

 

 

You've gathered it from previous posts. She's our spit-fire. Our "wild card." Jekyll and Hyde. Time-bomb. She's even been referred to (lovingly) as Sybil on a couple occasions.

 

After a series of hard days this past week, I finally got around to asking people to pray for me as I navigate this relationship. The switch she flips between happy and irate was on a hair-trigger, and so was mine. It was rough and I was coming unglued.

 

It was her fault, I believed in the heat of the moment. I couldn't possibly be expected to respond civilly when she was always catching me off guard. But too much musing in bed revealed what I knew to be true. It was on me.

 

It reminded me of a point C.S. Lewis made in Mere Christianity. (Which is amazing, considering this morning I went into the basement to grab something, only to stare blankly at the overflowing shelf, completely lost as to what it was I needed. I headed back upstairs. Bingo. Paper plates. I chanted "paper plates" the whole way back down.)

 

"On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in the cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

So I am embarking on a thankfulness journey, again. Not because it is November. Not even really of my own will. "After the first few steps in the Christian life we realize that everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by God." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

It is starting because of this relentless love. Turns out, I can love a strong-willed child. No matter how long their season of stubbornness lasts.

 

And that's not on me, or in me. I have the rats of selfishness and anger running around in my cellar.

 

The relentless love begins, continues, and ends with God. I'm the strong-willed, weak-willed, disobedient, fickle child. And yet He rejoices in me. He delights in me. He loves me and He even likes me.

 

He rejoices in us. He strengthens us. He makes us new. He shines the light of His love into the cellars of our souls, and doesn't recoil at the rats.

 

Again and again and again.

 

And there is one person who reminds me of that day after day- my third-born. God will show me the good. Give grace to our short-comings. And if the only thing I see at the end of the day besides my regrets and her tantrums is His relentless forgiveness, then that's a good day.

 

Pray for me in this please!

If there are any prayer requests you have, please message me at my Facebook page!

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Today I am linking up with the fabulous writers at Faith Filled Friday! Click on the link and join us! Write, read, enjoy:)

Deep-Cleaned and Deeply Loved {Messy Monday}

It's Monday! And for some reason, my brain is a mess of ideas that cannot file into place. So, instead of suffering you through a jumble of words that will make no sense, I am blogging my church newsletter article. Also, I'm doing this because I really liked it:)

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The sky, once a brilliant blue, dulled to a somber gray as the clouds collected and the sun began its descent. The wind relentless and the air damp, his difficult work became even more so in the adverse conditions.

At least, that’s what I assume. I was inside. Doing whatever it is moms do with their kids on cruddy evenings in Fall. I roused myself out of my light and warm cocoon and ventured into the elements. “Would you like some hot chocolate or something?”

He looked up at me from the front porch. “Yes, that would be nice.”

Two minutes later, I snapped the lid on the travel mug and delivered the piping hot chocolate to the grateful Mr. Rick, and we laughed and talked about the progress he was making and the weather and who knows what else.

A few days later, the travel mug made it back home in a plastic bag. In pieces. Now Rick is good, but he’s no Jesus. I didn’t receive more travel mug back by virtue of multiplication like it was a loaf of whole wheat or a small mouth bass. It was actually the same amount of mug. Just divided. I gave him two pieces. He gave me back four.

Rick deep cleaned my coffee mug! And that was so awesome! Because that is exactly what it needed, and what I needed too.

In a world of visual stimulation, eye candy, we naturally just want to look good. Maybe not always physically, but who doesn’t want to look like they have it all together? Just wash the outside, Lord. And maybe a bit on the inside. No need to take me apart. Don’t waste your time on the nooks and crannies. I’m good enough there. Just give me a song on my lips and a decent amount of patience for the day, and I will praise You for it. I look good. You look good. It’s a win-win.

The only problem is we’re not God. I can’t call things good when I myself am not good. God alone is good (Mark 10:18), so He’s the real quality control. And He’s not satisfied with “good enough” because He knows that when we settle for our own standards, we miss out on His glorious will. The will that comes with (His) hard work, dismantling our lives, thoroughly scrubbing us in the blood of Christ (And sometimes using a God-sized power-sander.)

Because every frown in the mirror at the new wrinkles, the receding hairline, the way our clothes fit may seem “not that bad,” but it is a slight on the goodness of God, and it becomes a habit. It seeps into the nooks and crannies of our mind and taints the purity of our trust in the sufficient and constant love of God. Every lie that you are “not good enough” (for one reason or another) distances you from the One who gives unmerited and crazy abundant grace simply because He values you and loves you so much.

So if it feels like God is taking you apart-  if He is dismantling your job, your relationships, your self-perception, your life, then take heart. Be encouraged. He’s deep cleaning. He’s not interested in keeping up appearances. He is interested in a real, gritty, painfully honest and gloriously fulfilling relationship with you. You. And He won’t stop until it is complete.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6

Brace For Impact (Three Word Wednesday)

She looks at me, eyes smiling as she clutches her crackers. She has chubby cheeks and curly hair, so utterly different than every other child of mine.

But her playfulness is the same as that of any other happy toddler.

I send her the sternest look I can muster in the face of those ringlets, cheeks, blue eyes, and electric smile. My index finger firmly pets the air upward, coding the urgent message: come here.

She knows what that means. I know she knows what that means because she smiles wider, scrunches her nose, and hightails it the other way.

I have no other choice. I have to go after her.

So, as my daughter climbs the scarlet stairs up to the altar, and her father delivers an impassioned sermon about one of the "Unusual Suspects" Christ called to be a fisher of men, I cast my line. She knows I've almost got her, so she does what she always does. She stops, squeezes her eyes shut, pulls her arms to her chest, her hands to her neck, and laughs. She braces herself for impact. I haul in a whopper of a girl. And I want to be mad, I really do. I just can't.

Sometimes in the waiting, we want to brace ourselves for impact- for whatever God has planned for us. And that really is so good. Except, we forget Who we're dealing with. God is mighty, sure. But God is also love.

So, we picture God's big plan as rocking our world. Entering earth's atmosphere.

We see the hard, and miss the heart.

We forget. God's biggest impact is always always always made by love.

That's how He created us. That's how He saved us. Every single time, God impacts us with His love, in His love.

Bracing is a natural instinct of ours to prepare for what's to come, so what if we prepared to be loved in a big way? I mean, a really big way. Today.

Would it open our eyes to the love impacts He makes on us every moment, every breath of our day, until even our breaths are blaring testimonies to the love of our Great God?

His love is amazing, persistent, gritty, beautiful, constant, and it is with you now. It isn't just a feeling. It's a guarantee that the Lord will work in your life in a way that is consistent with His character. Will it be hard? Probably.

But hard is bearable when His heart is what's bearing you up.

We've read the lines. Heard them sung and spoken. But what if we heard and saw 1st Corinthians 13:4-10 in action today? As God speaking them to us...

I am patient and kind to you, Beloved.

I will not compare you to others, or wish you to be more like them.

I will not belittle you or make you feel worthless in my sight.

I am God over all, but I say and do nothing out of cruelty toward you.

My plan is right, but that doesn't mean I am closed off to hearing your plans and pleas in prayer. Talk to me!

My anger is always just, and always aimed at that which is separating my children from me-

You won't find Me to just be cranky like a human. 

I don't hold grudges. When I say you are forgiven- You are forgiven.

I find no delight in the sins of man. The things that have hurt you- I've seen them all and they do not please Me.

I rejoice with all the heavenly host when one sinner repents, and comes to the truth.

That includes you.

There is nothing you can you do, say, or endure that I cannot bear, and will not bear, for you.

Just look at the cross.

I know for a fact the power within My grasp, so when I tell you that all things work together for the good of those who love Me- believe it. Put your hope in me. No matter what you endure. I'm there with you throughout it all.

I will never, ever stop working on your behalf. I will never stop showing you love. When the days get long and things get too hard- remember that all of this will be gone someday soon. The good stuff and the bad. What will remain is our love forever. When you cling to My love, you cling to something eternal- doesn't that reveal just how much stronger it is than your present circumstances?

Praying God impacts you with His love today. The love that created the world. The love that traded His robe of glory for human flesh. The love that nailed Him to the cross and kept Him there until it was finished. The love that resurrected that third day and reigns in your heart.

Brace yourself. He's about to make an impact:)

I would love to hear how God has impacted your day, and your life in real ways! It is always so exciting to see how personally He chooses to relate His love to each one of us. The magnitude and creativity of our loving God is just amazing!

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Linking up with Simply Beth at Three Word Wednesday today! For more posts on three incredible words, just click the button and get reading. Or think of your own three words and link up with us!

Three Word Wednesday: Eight Days Later

I sit in the silence, rocking in the wake of yet another child's puking episode, but it is too close to rise and shine, so how about I get in that quiet time I have been neglecting? I open my study book and Bible and get down to business, making connections, having epiphanies, and all before 6 am.

 

I am directed to look up yet another passage when I feel that familiar tug on my lazy nature. "Just skip it. You know that passage. Ok, maybe if you don't you'll at least figure out what it is from the context of the lesson." Reluctantly, I will my hands to escort the fragile pages left and find myself eye to text with the story of Doubting Thomas (poor man to have a label like that, like Rahab the Harlot). I say a quick prayer as I peruse the words, that the Lord would open my eyes to something that sticks- something beyond what I've read before. It sounds altruistic, but really I am just tired and I want to make sure this is "worth it." (Yuck, Lauren. Really? Yes, really. I can be selfish even when I'm reading the Word.)

 

But you know the Lord (or if you don't, you should). He delivers on His promises even when we are tired and whiny, and His Word definitely did not return void. It hit me hard, and I've been puzzling on it for a few days now.

 

 Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin,was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:26-29

 

"Eight days later?!" Wait, what? Did I know that? Surely I must have read that, maybe studied it even. But then why did I not see it before?" (Yet another case for rereading and praying while reading the Bible, no matter how many times you've seen it.)

 

Eight days later. A couple weeks ago my daughter asked what time period I would go back to if I could go for just one day. I would like to put this eight days in my top ten. It just has me asking these questions like,

 

- Jesus obviously knew what disciples would be present when He first arrived, so why did He come when Thomas was gone?

 

- Was it because of something with Thomas, or was He giving the disciples a chance to evangelize to one of their own? (Even us believers need some evangelism, no?)

 

- And if He knew Thomas wouldn't believe them, why didn't He just come back in an hour to show Him?

 

- Why did He let Thomas struggle in His unbelief when He could have just shown Him right then and there that He was back?

 

- Why didn't Thomas believe his friends? Were relationships damaged after the crucifixion? Was he just stubborn? Was He hurt that Jesus revealed Himself to the other ten, but seemed to leave Him out of it? (Ouch, that would hurt.)

 

- Was he afraid to face Jesus? After all, he had deserted Jesus too. Maybe he was afraid he had done something unforgivable. Jesus had spoken peace to the others. He had breathed on them, given them the Holy Spirit. Thomas had missed the crucial sending of the disciples and gift of forgiveness.

 

- Did Thomas try to make the others doubt what they had seen? Did he just have to be right?

 

I'm not sure of any of those answers really, but it did bring to mind some things I do know.

 

- We can evangelize til we're blue in the face, but if that person doesn't come face to face with who Jesus is and what He did, they won't believe. And half-pictures of Him are no good. He died AND rose!

 

- We can't make anyone believe, that's God's job, but that doesn't mean witnessing is a waste of time. Witnessing is a blessing from God. We have seen the Lord!

 

- It's not all about the outcome of our present circumstance. We want to skip the hard things, get to where things are good. So we rush it. We push our questions to the back burner and act like things are fine, because maybe if we act like it, that will make it happen. Jesus is okay with the struggles. He waited to show Himself, not because He didn't care or love Thomas. He knew exactly what Thomas needed, and delivered accordingly. God works within our struggles, and He loves us enough to wait until the time is right.

 

- Pride is always a snare. When our stubborn need to be right keeps us from celebrating the Risen Christ, we need to step back and be willing to conceive that maybe there is a better way beyond what our eyes have seen.

 

- You're mistakes don't have to define you. Failing once is not failing forever. Thomas had the opportunity to exercise true faith and he missed the boat. He wouldn't let that same mistake happen again. Years later he would have the opportunity to declare unbelief once again. Instead, he prayed to the Jesus he could no longer see and was run through with a spear. Sounds like a happy ending to me.

 

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Messy Monday: Keeping Score

I've been rocking out a lot since school ended. My seven year old love love LOVES Britt Nicole, which is fine by me because I just can't overestimate my affinity for a good beat. It puts me into some happy, motivated place. And I've needed it recently.

For whatever reason, I have been in a funk lately and just given into it. You know, you just sit there and go, "I know I shouldn't be thinking this, but I don't care. Let me wallow in my baseless whining." So much easier it is to just let myself be jealous or a victim than to intentionally remind myself of who I am because I belong to Christ. (But here's the secret- that's really just a lie. Giving into the "easy" just drains the spirit in the long run, while fighting it and feeding the truth renews our strength like the eagles'.)

So Britt Nicole and the like have been serenading us frequently since my daughter is home from school full time, and as I was cleaning on Saturday she sang a lyric that struck me anew. One of those lyrics that I think, "Oh, I hope my girls learn this truth. Remember this truth," when it's really me that needs to hear it. I guess I haven't outgrown as much as I'd hoped...

Everybody keeps score. Afraid your gonna lose. Just ignore, they don't know the real you.

 

Now to be fair- no one keeps score on me. I keep score on myself. I'm the one who forgets the real me.

 

That's what turns me into my pity-party mess...

 

As soon as the words hit my brain, I realized that's what I've been doing lately. Keeping score- and everyone else is ahead. Better moms, wives, singers, writers, etc. Everyone just seems more worthy.

 

Then a piece popped out of my mental archive. Turns out this must be a recurring theme in my life because I just wrote about it for the church newsletter... So here it is!



It’s Not About the Score

 

There is something amazing about little feet and legs and bodies chasing a ball on a blanket of green. Maybe it is just me, but to watch kids on a soccer field, running with all their might, kicking, passing, scoring, celebrating- my heart just bursts into little pieces when they are exhausted and smiling.

Last year, I remember my son running up to me after every goal their team scored. Jumping, bounding, giving fives. I thought just like our relationship with the Father. It hit me that the pride and joy I felt in both my little soccer players was a gift- a glimpse into God’s regard for His children. His regard for me. The insignificance of my daily chores suddenly became reasons to give God a high five and be reminded that my Coach was right on the field with me, and celebrating my every play!

 

This year started much the same way. The aunts and uncles and grandparents received pictures of their grandkids, niece and nephew, scoring goals and taking names. The grace and beauty of their form and footwork- it was no less than perfect art to me. My heart ached with love as my kids talked nonstop after the games about how they played.

 

Then my son's team lost. Quite handedly. It was one of those games where we wondered if the kids packed their cleats and shin-guards, but not their feet and brains. And you could see it on their faces; they were just as baffled as the rest of us. They were trying. Trying hard. But nothing connected. Like everything we had done the past few weeks was undone in one night.

 One boy was devastated. He probably would have torn his clothes in mourning had he the strength. His brother, on the other hand, did manage to score- and brilliantly-on his own team. But you should have seen his face light up. I just smiled that I-can’t-break-this-kid’s-heart smile and held out my hand. With an “I scored!” he gave me five. I then gently suggested he try scoring in the opposite goal the next time.

 My son wasn’t too rocked by the loss. “We lost 9-1,” he told his Auntie Sarah, and that was about it.

 My son didn’t feel like a loser. He felt Grady Jensen, the soccer player who lost a game. He knew what was really important- that even when he lost, his mother and father still loved and cared for him. It became immediately apparent that the real demonstration of my love was much more significant when he had nothing to “offer” to earn it. His ability to keep things in perspective was an example for me to follow.

 

It is easy to define ourselves by our roles. We rate our job performance on a spectrum from Loser to Winner and determine God’s love accordingly. Then we lose it. Nothing connects. We wonder where we left our mind. Some days I ask God, “How can you love me? I’m such a horrible mom.” I turn myself into a mom who follows God, instead of a child of God who is also a mom. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ… Ephesians 2:4-5 (boldface mine)

What makes the difference?

 

Relationship. A relationship entirely dependent on a loving Father. A relationship that is not contingent on what we have to offer- which is awesome because, outside of Jesus Christ, there isn’t a human being on earth that has ever made the grade.

 

We all lose, but we are not losers. We are champions in a very literal and eternal sense. All those other vocations we have- those are just gravy. Those are graces upon grace; things we do for the glory of God because we can, not because we have to climb some ladder of success to achieve significance. In fact, it is when we are at our lowest that we are forced to look up, and God’s love reveals itself most faithful …so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2: 7-8

F Words We All Can Appreciate

Turn Off the TV Week is kicking my behind. Not at all because I want to watch TV, but because there is some stable comfort in knowing that for a half hour each morning I will have some time to collect thoughts and perhaps blog. We miss you, Daniel Tiger... This is the kind of post I write when you are gone for three days...

Our educationally neglected third child and I have begun alphabet work. I say educationally neglected because for the first 2-3 years of the older two children's lives I was the picture of spiritual education. The third kid, she'll pick it up along the way. God help the fourth.

I admit there are a couple teaching points that make me tee-hee like a grade-schooler. The first- getting to the "it" endings in a rhyming lesson. The second one I hadn't thought too much about until today.

The letter F.

Now the girl is 3, and a bit precocious, so we play this school stuff loosely. A brown cinderblock wall makes a fabulous chalkboard, so we get to work making our "F Word" Wall. F words all over the place. You can laugh if you want. It's ok. I said F words a lot today, and the child in me giggles as I type that.

The F says ffff. We repeat. We draw, color, laugh. I search for just the right F word. Family, Frown, Fun, Flowers, Feet, Farm, Four, Five... She hears the clues and guesses the F word and laughs again.

Good times- when F words are safe.

I can't avoid the F word forever, I know. She'll hear it, learn it, possibly say it. She'll learn F words that will cause more pain than profanity.

Like failure.

And fear.

The mother in me wants to protect her from those words. Whisk her away like a sleeping beauty, so she'll never feel the prick of words that kill spirits. Failure. Fear.

I can't do it, though. For a flower to bloom, must it not cease to be just a seed? Must it not break open? And this little princess, she has been born not of perishable seed, but imperishable.

There's an F word for you.

Forgiven.

Free.

Found. Forever found.

I'm not called to remove God's precious child from a world of hurt, but to prepare and equip her for the victory that is hers in Jesus Christ. I am called to gift her with words, and The Word, like battle armor. In fact, Ephesians 6 gives a few F words I can appreciate...

Finally- Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.

Flesh- For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

Firm-Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.

Fastened- Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness,

Feet- ...and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.

Faith- In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one

¹⁷ and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, ¹⁸ praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, ¹⁹ and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰ for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

Then one day, my dear ones will be able to confess with King David that there is an F word they can't help but proclaim...

 

I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart; I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.

Psalm 40:10

Messy Monday: A Rescue in the Meantime

To just sit and wait. It seems... wrong.

 

Especially when you have a carload of kids and you feel like you are "on the clock" in a way.

 

So, the other day I made the most of our time. Scotty had a shut-in woman to visit in a town 30 miles away, but hey, that town had several stores we don't have so most of the family tagged along. As Scott administered pastoral care I focused more on the temporal care- like dog food and produce.

 

After completing the bulk of my errands, the kiddos and I headed back to the assisted living home to wait for Daddy to come out.

 

In the meantime I had to find something to do. Right? I mean, I couldn't just sit there. But what to do?

 

I looked down and had my answer...

 

 

How my purse got so full of junk, I'll never know- especially since I never use two bags two days in a row. No idea why. I just have a bunch of bags, and I change them like clothes- making organization and finding that tube of lipstick for church a bit difficult.

 

So I sat and I rifled through the outdated and obsolete, and just plain odd. I cleared it out. Most of it. And how many times did I just ask, Why?

 

Why do I hold on to this stuff?

 

Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. ~Psalm 69:1-2

 

If I dove into my conscience, my soul, like this overstuffed purse, when would I reach the bottom?

 

My purse was created to hold necessities- not junk.

 

Same with my heart.

 

So, what is necessary?

 

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42

 

 

 And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.

Luke 24:25-27

 

And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, “This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ.” And some of them were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women.

Acts 17:2-4

 

 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials,  so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

1 Peter 1:3-7

 

The Lord sits with me in the quiet meantimes, and together we rifle through the recesses and pockets of my heart.

 

And He is merciful and gracious as He reveals those things I keep that are not necessary.

 

A wrong word from my mouth spoken to a friend.

 

And vice versa.

 

Those hurts and aches that I keep a receipt of, and why? To remember?

 

To have proof?

 

To log in my spiritual register? A debt I owe. A debt I've paid.

 

...and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.

 

And out of pity for him, the master of that servant released him and forgave him the debt.

~Matthew 18:27

 

 

To hold or be held?

 

To be captive or set free from the muck and mire to which we cling?

 

To sink or swim?

 

Praise be to the Lord alone, who sits beside us and removes what should not remain, time and time again, so that in the end all that remains is Himself - a wallet full of grace and forgiveness, and a means to call on Him any time day or night- with minutes unlimited.