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.

A Time to Celebrate

"So... there is just this stuff that squirts water at us?" My oldest sounded less than enthused. She'd never been to a splash pad. Neither had I for that matter.  

"Basically," I responded with some enthusiasm. "Let's just try it out. I've heard it's really great." And so as the temperature made its inevitable ascent, we 5 piled into the van for an adventure 30 minutes away. 

Let me just say the kids were totally impressed. We drove up to an enormous jungle gym coupled closely with the satisfyingly wet splash pad. Kids screaming as they careened through walls of water, little boys laughing recklessly as they sat on streams of water shooting from the ground. It was all hilarity and mayhem, and my kids fit right in. 

It's not lost on me that in the past days we have been celebrating, laughing even, while our nation mourns, while we shake our heads and wonder at the depths of depravity all around us. We have prayed. We have called for justice. And then we have smiled as our kids run abandoned through a park of water.  

We celebrated on Sunday as well. My husband celebrated 10 years in the pastoral ministry and the church banded together with funny t-shirts and prayers and a standing ovation. We ate delicious cake with purple frosting and took pictures to post on Facebook. 

I thought of those who were mourning. The people Scott preached about. Those who need the hope of Christ. And here is what hit me- we are to minister to those in pain, to comfort with the comfort we ourselves have received from God, but that comfort is nothing if we spend all our resources focusing on the injustice to the exclusion of the goodness God pours freely every single day. 

Rejoice in the Lord always. Give thanks in all circumstances. Taste and see that the Lord is good. Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget not all His benefits. 

My kids ran recklessly, showered, misted, doused with the refreshing water. And no amount of sorrow made them any less wet. The atrocities of humankind, and I am not ignoring that the acts taken recently have been particularly atrocious, cannot diminish the goodness of our God. We are saturated with His love. 

The schemes of the devil can in no way diminish the glory of our God. They cannot remove our salvation. They cannot reverse the atonement of Christ. They cannot put Jesus back in the tomb. They cannot rob me of the faith that is mine in Christ.  

And he knows this so he distracts us. He deceives us into thinking that our brooding and battle lines will do more good than giving glory to the only One who can defeat death and bring true peace. I thank God every time I see a post on Facebook that acknowledges the hurt and evil around us in light of the gospel. 

We are called to minister, to bind up, to cry out for justice. We are called to pray and seek God's will. We see all those things in the Psalms. We are not called to despair, become cynics, or doomsday prophets.   

There is a time for everything, but never a time to forget the goodness of God.

We are called to recognize and proclaim the saturating, penetrating, love of a God who grieves with us, but not like us, because even in the darkest times He knows He is working all things for good. And as that ethereal "good" proves too elusive for our fallen eyes, He gives us His Spirit. 

So I am trying again to be more intentional about celebrating God. To love, mourn, pray, listen, and celebrate deliberately. Because we should not let satan win his little battles in words of hopelessness and "what do we do now?" 

Thanks only to the God of the universe we are more than conquerors, and that is something worth seriously celebrating. 

More Than a Relationship App

The countdown began before day break. The words whispered expectantly from her small mouth...

"Can I play on my tablet?"

Good morning to you too, Sweetie.

It was a Saturday morning, ushering in the weekend and, consequently, electronics. It is a rule around here and the kids don't mind it as long as the weekend delivers their blessed kindle fires.

My oldest was rapt with anticipation because, while she has more games than she will play downloaded onto her divine device, she really really really couldn't wait to download two more. Because they super fun and completely free,

A metaphor for salvation came to mind, but it was more of the American cheap imitation variety.

Salvation is not free. Not like that.

As fun as it would be to visualize clicking the little "FREE" button, however that looks to you, and going about our lives, Christianity is just not like that.

And that is good news. Especially for those of us who look at our lives and think, "This discipleship thing is no joke. I'm exhausted."

When your faith is based on a click and a purchase, you are still in control. Jesus gets organized neatly into a specific system in your life right along all the other morals you pull out on special occasions.

When faith is not "FREE", but "PAID IN FULL" then you realize that you did not buy into Jesus. He bought into you. He is in control.

In our password-saved world, where we can literally purchase anything at the click of a button, or the touch of the screen, it can be easy to lose sight of what it means to purchase something.

Lilly purchased her games because she was tired of the old ones.

You were not born again out of boredom. You won't be discarded or replaced.

Jesus tells a great story of what purchasing means in the kingdom of heaven,

"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it." Matthew 13:45-46

Jesus was so brilliantly to the point.

The pearl is you. In full knowledge of your sins and faults, God valued you enough to give up His Son. Jesus willing left His throne. The One more precious and blameless than our little minds can fathom, gave Himself up for us. For you.

That is a love that will not tire and move on. It is a love you can count on. It is a love that confronts us not just on the peaks, but in the valleys where we can't seem to reconcile with our friend no matter how hard we try. Where our kids won't.stop.fighting. in the church pew; at the communion rail. Where we collapse after a day too long, or stay up through a night too long.

Love met us when He formed us out of dust, dug us out of the dirt, and saved our soiled souls. Love still meets us.

So on the days that are just too hard, Love is still there, in your face. Call Him out. You are His. That is a big deal.

#GodRemembers

"Mom, we forgot to do the Advent calendar."

You'd think her accusation wouldn't catch me off guard any more. I mean, we forget a lot of things. Practically every day.

And yet, those two words "we forgot" prickled something inside me.

Of course I answered rationally, "No, Honey. We didn't forget. We didn't have time yesterday, remember? We had church all night." With that the matter was settled. Right. We didn't have time. It's not that we forgot. It's just that in the 30 minutes we had between school and church we chose to eat snacks and watch a show on PBS. 

Why does the word "forget" sting me so? This morning's observation didn't wound me nearly as much as usual. Such as when I perform my weekly grocery shopping and the kids keenly observe that, "Mom, you forgot the bananas."

You forgot the quarters for Popcorn Friday.
You forgot to wash my shirt.
You forgot to pack my shoes.
You forgot to return the library books.
You forgot to pick up stamps.
You forgot to make the appointment.

You forgot... you forgot... you forgot.

A simple remark becomes a glaring accusation.

#momfail

And we can debate whether I should make more detailed lists, become more organized, or make my kids responsible for all the minutia in their own lives, but the truth is that when I take ownership of a task and fail to meet that responsibility, then I become immediately and poignantly aware of my own shortcomings.

What better time to face my own failing humanity than a season when we focus so pointedly on God's invading divinity?

Because as I continue to spew my tired, irrational rants that "Of COURSE I forgot! I'm busy remembering things for everyone around me," I look at the unsatisfying parts of my life and make my own accusation. God, you forgot. I simultaneously celebrate God and criticize Him.

Blinding tinsel and blaring Christmas ballads are only the tip of the marketing iceberg that breeds discontent in December.Constantly there is the pedaling of the lie that what you have is not enough. That who you are is not enough. And when enough is not enough, you admit that God is not enough. With every complaint we point the finger at God and remind Him, "God, you forgot."

Which is why we need to celebrate the season all the more. Sing God's greatness all the louder.

Because at the heart of the Christmas
message is this, "God has not forgotten you."

The evidence is there, wrapped in skin. For those who waited long for a Savior, who looked to God, just as we have, and asked Him desperately, "God, have you forgotten me, "a baby's cry proclaims, resounding, "Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son from her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you." (Isaiah 49:15)

I will tell you a phrase that I hear far less often, yet when I hear it my heart aches with the pain of full love: Mom, you remembered...

That is gratitude at its simplest. Acknowledging that the caregiver remembered, was faithful.

Those who celebrate Christmas fully are the one who realize gratitude is the manger that cradles the God who remembers. Gratitude is the song of the angels, the urgency of the shepherds, the gifts of the wise men.

Gratitude utters to the broken, "Look at God. See how He remembers us."

Gratitude sees into the family discord and reminds us that Christ was born into discord, and in the darkness of it all God did not forget us, but sent His one and only Light because He loves us.

Gratitude heeds the voice that invites, "Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat!" because the Holy One of Israel has not forgotten His covenant with us.

Gratitude is the cure of spiritual amnesia along with all its discontented side effects. It is the song, simple and constant, that sings, "God, you remembered".

Maybe you need to hear the song, remember deeply that God has not forgotten you. Maybe the grinches, bah-humbugs, and hopeless cases around you need to hear it. Chances are it needs to be heard by all of the above.

So as we await our coming King, our God who remembers, let's sing the song together in the hearing of our neighbors. We celebrate a God who has not forgotten us. A God who remembers us always. The only God who can fully satisfy. And for that we are eternally grateful.

Why we all need to get ourselves some Radical Rest

Last night was pumpkin carving night. Well, that was the plan. Despite our requests, warnings, and threats, our kids couldn't get their acts together long enough to hold a conversation, listen to a story, or even pray. The annoyed look on my 9 year-old's face when I asked her to pray from someone (anyone) was the last straw. My husband closed out our prayer and I mouthed the words across the table, "We're done". He nodded, and announced that supper was now done. Everyone was to clear their dishes and find something to do. Pumpkin carving night was officially postponed.

The older two kids were bummed, but not surprised. They knew they blew it. But the kindergartner? She lost it. Full blown weeping and gnashing of teeth. No doubt she would have clothed herself in sackcloth and ashes had she the knowledge to do so. As she wailed bitterly and I repeated the daily question, "Has this crying routine ever worked for you," Scott remarked to our princess, "Honey, you don't have a leg to stand on".

This was too much. She went nuclear. Her voice growled, "WHAT?! That's NOT TRUE! What?! You think I CAN'T WALK? You think I'm an OLD LADY?!?!?!"

And we laughed. She didn't, of course. I try to make it a point not to laugh at my children's misery and anger unless absolutely necessary. After all, they should learn to be able to laugh at themselves. This was no learning moment. The tension had to break, and our sweetie had inadvertently crushed it soundly. I wish I could say she saw the humor, but she was too outraged. That was okay though, because the parents saw it and lightened up.

That is a glimpse of what limits look like at our house. And the repercussions of pushing each other past them.

I admit, I keep pushing my own limits. I suck at this resting business.  I am learning, slowly (very slowly), that I don't have to chase the distractions; that my limitations are a gift, not a burden.

Part of me wants to push past my limits. Often times that part wins out. Andy Stanley asserts that the driving force behind that is fear. That if he was to ask us why we do so much, we would likely begin our answer with, "Because I'm afraid if I don't..."

Rest then is radical. It whispers I have limits. It pries my hands open and forces me to offer up the control I keep trying to grasp. It abolishes fear. It is why the Sabbath was, and is, so vital for God's people. It acknowledges that we are reliant on the power, provision, and love of God.

Satan tempts us in our gardens with the lie that we can be "like God". Limitless. In control.

In another garden, Jesus Christ, gave us another option. Submission. We think Christ came to die, but He came for more than that. He came to do the will of the Father. That involved more than His unspeakably horrible crucifixion. It even involved more than His resurrection. It meant His life. His ministry. His rest. It meant all that is still to come.

His rest. His limitations. Isn't that one of the most beautiful truths of the Gospel? He was a real man. (Phil 2:5-8) He could have said, "But if I rest, then I won't get to heal these people... I won't be able to teach this truth," but Christ submitted. He trusted that God the Father knew best. Jesus knew that while He was true God, He was also true man. And that meant He physically. emotionally, spiritually needed to take time to be restored.

We watch eagerly how Christ helped the poor, taught the Word, shared the Gospel, loved the children, and we think, "Yes, I want to do what Christ did!" The times Christ rested are easier to gloss over. They are more mundane. Anyone can do that.

Let me tell you, rest is work. If you've had to do it, then you get what I mean. Rest is a big deal. Anyone can do it- almost no one does. What does that tell you? It is simple and complex. Theoretically easy, practically difficult. Spiritually essential.

Maybe you can't rest from everything. It can be a daunting proposition. In that case, maybe today we just need to look at one thing and say, "I'm going to rest from ______ for a certain amount of time." You can do this. We can do it. And if my permission isn't enough, just look to Jesus and the times He rested and when you get to heaven and He asks you why the laundry didn't make it into the drawers you can just let Him know you were just following in His footsteps. Wait a minute...

Then pray something like this, "Father, Jesus submitted to you and rested. Grant me the same humble and courageous spirit to submit and find my rest in You." Let's pray this for each other, ok?

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* And if you are looking for a morning Sabbath, "exchange whispers with God before shouts with the world" with Proverbs 31's new app, first5. It wakes you up in the Word. All lovely and refreshing. I highly recommend it.

Wanted: Perspective {This Day Thursday}

I wasn't going to do this. My to-do list is long. My time is short. What I wouldn't give for a magic lamp... ("Ya got a list that's three miles long no doubt, well all you gotta do is rub like so...")

I figured you'd get it if I just let you know that my brain is fried, emotions fraying, and I just need to get. stuff. done. But God is persistent. No amount of laundry, packing, cooking, cleaning will give me the peace of mind only time with God can offer. And I can't multitask that.

So here we sit, you and I, and I need to do a bit of bragging. My mom makes hella-good banana bread. So good I almost engaged in a drop-down, drag-out fight over it. Is it mob-mentality when its just a mob of individuals assaulting each other?

Well, years ago I was on tour with my university's choir. Before every performance, a church would provide a meal. Usually a potluck deal. Good eats for sure. I chowed with my fellow choir buddy nerds and we chatted about all the whatnots going on in our "important" collegiate world. Then one of the guys takes a bite of the banana bread and makes some comment like, "This banana bread is good. Not as good as my mom's, but my mom makes the best banana bread in the world, so..."

That set off some playful banter along the lines of, "No way, my mom makes the best banana bread in the world. No my mom does. No mine. My mom uses cream cheese frosting. My mom does need crappy frosting. My mom's banana bread would make your mom's taste like cat food." Stuff like that. Good-natured at first, with just a hint of nasty. It was more than banana bread proficiency that hung in the balance, it was our mothers' honor- and that honor rested heavily on the quality of their banana bread. I won, by the way.

Anyway, in a world where we could disown our comrades over un-resolvable quickbread differences, we sure give a lot of ground when it comes to bragging up on our God. That isn't meant to be condemnation. I hop right on that train. People say, "look at this awesome stuff I have/do/think," and I say "uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, that's so cool!" And truth is- some of it is. But I am so slow. So. Slow. To be like, "Hey look at this totally awesome stuff my God did!"

And if I focus on how my marble mouth stumbles over praising God out loud to people who have their own gods to think of, I get down on myself. Man I suck.

But if instead I think about how awesome God is, I cut myself some slack because hey, God is awesome. So awesome. And the point has never been to flog ourselves and straighten up- its been about the good news of Jesus Christ. That doesn't mean flippantly ignoring the grievous sin that would separate me from God, it means confessing and living like Jesus is alive. He took my sins to that tree, but that is not the end of the story.

So I am going to do a little bragging on God.It's totally Biblical. "Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord." (1 Corinthians 1:31) Jesus is alive and living and active, and that perspective hit me afresh today.

This Day Thursday, I need some perspective. I need prayers for sure. But I really need perspective. God was good enough to sit down with me in Job. I didn't turn there out of Job-like self-pity. It was just on the way to Psalms, but I honestly didn't make it to Psalms.

Job 38-39 might as well have been titled, "The Lord Answers His Wild Woman." I have become aware that the times I am most apt to cry is when I feel overwhelmed and/or feel that things are out of my control. My kids and house, sure. Other people, definitely. And honestly, I felt a tad out of control this morning. I even said that, "I just feel like I have absolutely no control."

Guess what Job 38-39 is about? Control. God's control. Often I read it and play it out in my head that God is really giving it to Job. You think you're all that, Job? "Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you?" (38:34) While that is definitely the vibe it intentionally gives off, today I read it differently- not with the edge of a God who has had it up to here with self-justification. Today it whispered of God's mercy and loving care for every single tiny bit of His creation. There is no detail overlooked. No decision carelessly made. Couple that with Christ's sermon on the mount and we see that all flows out of the love and attention of the Creator of all- and that extends to me and you as well. The love that nailed Jesus to the cross is the love that makes known to us that we are valued and special, and that comes without any control on our part.

And then I flipped to John 17 and spent time in Jesus' high priestly prayer. God does these things for us and then He prays for us. That we would believe Him, be one, be kept from the evil one, be with Him. I ask people to pray for me, but I actually get to read the words that my Savior prayed on my behalf.

Perspective. The things out of my control- they are going to stay that way. And if I did have control, I would sure be bound to screw something up. But God's way is better. The picture He sees is complete and just the absolute best because it is built on and around who He is- holy, perfect love.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight." Proverbs 3:5-6

Dethroning Your Fear {Three Word Wednesday}

It is often said that people and animals respond to a threat in one of two ways.

Fight or Flight.

Then there's fear.

Fight or Flight- that's all survival there. Survival instinct. It is something that works beyond fear. In spite of it.

Fear works a lot like stress. Its result- paralysis.

Months back, I chose a word for this year. I prayed, sought, studied. "Fearless" commanded all other words silence, and refused to relinquish its hold on my psyche. So I chose it, and was soon warned that choosing that word could mean God would mess with me in that area. The prophecy was true and I can tell you that I have suffered more at the hand of fear this year than I can ever remember before.

That being said, I can hardly remember what I ate for breakfast, so my memory is not the most reliable gauge of my overall emotional health.

Still, the tunnel seems to be coming to an end- the light approaching ever brighter.

I can move and breathe again.

Too long have I been locked in an upper room for fear of... whatever. Name it.

I put on a good show. Muddle through in spite of the crippling thoughts that threaten to undo me. There is a lot to fear in this world, and all sorts of them have been seeking the throne in my heart reserved for God.

Not gonna lie, they have budged themselves on there more than once.

I'm not using the "respect" definition of fear. I'm talking idolatrous fear.
Because having no other gods isn't always about loving something more than God. Oftentimes, it's about ascribing more power to things other than God. Like all those things we fear.

And don't think for a second that you have to wait until you are completely immobilized by fear before it is a problem. No phobia diagnosis necessary. The moment it robs you of peace in the Lord, the moment it plants the seed of doubt, that's when it is a problem.

If we think too quickly about it all, we may try to find some way to justify our fear. I'm a mom, I'm supposed to worry. (Lie.) We are tempted to give fear credit for the fact that we are mobilized to take the reins and act in our communities. Or read our Bibles. Like those fears are driving us to our knees before the Lord.

Only fear does not do that. Ever. Survival- that's different. Love. Mercy. Grace. Those gifts from God are alone what send us searching for His peace.

Fear locks us away. It is a cunning bully that gradually shoves us in with the crowd that believed in Jesus, but were too scared to confess it because of what others might do. It leaves us helpless, frozen on an ocean in a squall.

It deafens us to Jesus' words:

"It is I; do not be afraid." (John 6:20)

It robs us of the gifts that are rightfully ours as heirs to the kingdom of God:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives so I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (John 14:27)

And God knows that. It is recorded in history as one of the first emotions felt by our first mother and father after the Fall. He knew way back when, before Creation, that we would need a Savior. And that we would need a Helper. And He delivered. Just like God always does.

God may give us more than our feeble selves can handle, but His promise of salvation and a Helper are guarantees that offer real hope. Because there is nothing He cannot handle. Nothing.

Drop-kick our fear and deliver us every day, Lord.

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Linking up today with simply wonderful Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday!

Just Say "Amen!"

My eyes closed, I tried to muscle in a few more minutes of sleep to the din and scuffling of newly awakened small people above me. Then the phone rang.

A sick friend, a working husband. Can I watch the kids?

"Of course. Sure, no problem."

I hadn't forgotten my last words before bed last night. "I think tomorrow we're just going to take it easy. I need to catch up on my Bible reading. Maybe I'll blog."

But when a friend needs you, things change. And I thought to myself, how will I best serve the Lord and my neighbor today? Reading the Bible to myself, or helping a friend in need? Well, if I remember correctly, it was the "holy" people that passed by the left-for-dead Samaritan. No brainer. I looked at my husband and said, "This is the day the Lord has made. I didn't make it, so I'll do what He wants me to do."

Do I always have that clarity or goodwill at 6 am? Uh no. So it is here that I give some mighty praise to the Holy Spirit who has borne in me a love that surpasses all sleep deprivation. It also helps that my friend is just so cool, and her kids are sweet.

The children showed up as mine stampeded downstairs. The TV clicked on, and those two little ones got a dose of the pre-schoolday routine that we take for granted. When the three oldest made their exit, I knew I would have to be more strategic with my morning. Beginning with some quiet time. Funny, God gave that to me too. Somehow that Bible time that would have been my excuse to forsake my sister in Christ was even more of a blessing because I wasn't actually anticipating being able to get it accomplished.

And this is what I read over and over and over, "Then all the people shall say, 'Amen!'" It makes up about half of Deuteronomy 27. The Levites would recite a law of the Lord and all the people were to say, "Amen!"

I have those days where it takes all my strength to just say "Jesus."

For those other days- the ones where I am granted the clarity of mind and energy of body to follow where the Lord leads, those are the days I am just to say, "Amen!"

It is an affirmative response to the word of God.

It is the refrain of believers.

It is the chorus of the broken, whose only hope is the strong and trustworthy God who proved ultimately on the cross and in the empty tomb that He would take on death and win. He gives us the victory.

So when plans change in the dark of the morning, Amen.

"It is more blessed to give than to receive." Amen!
(Acts 20:35)

"For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Amen!
(Isaiah 43:3)

The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10):
"Go and do likewise." Amen!

"Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Amen!
(Ephesians 5:1-2)

Sometimes it is in the solemn quiet of a church sanctuary.

The weeping of the frustrated husband and wife.

The crying of the physically ailing.

The shouts of the prisoner freed from sin.

The surrender of the rundown mother.

It's the melody that claims God is God, and there is no other. Amen.

It's the symphony of the broken, handing hearts to their Healer. Amen.

It's the believer, carried by the Spirit, putting one foot in front of the other down an uncertain path because faith tells them their God is the only certain thing they have in this life.

It is a gift from Him alone, who deigns to dwell with us and make Himself available to carry our burdens. Amen is His invitation to let. it. go.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

Amen.

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Linking late with a lovely lady:) Three Word Wednesday with Simply Sweet, Simply Beth.

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

Why I Quit "Helping" God {God is God}

The dog greeted me warmly at the door. I left her loose while I was gone because there was no food out and how much trouble could she get into? I carried the tired toddler into the kitchen and was greeted warmly once more.

By a completely annihilated box of Honey Nut Cheerios. What would possess an animal to jump onto a kitchen table and destroy a box and bag, only to consume a few handfuls of cereal? Yet there lay the accusing debris. As a mother of four with a dirty house, you could imagine my delight.

I set down the kid and reached for the broom. In moments, tiny fingers laid hold of the handle and her words formed, "Mm how. Mm how."

To a foreigner that would mean nothing. To my mother ears it rang clearly, "I help. I help."

I released the broom into her eager hands and watched as she toddled around the kitchen, spreading the cardboard, plastic, crumbs and other junk pell-mell over the linoleum. As a mother of four with a dirty house, you could imagine my delight.

This is precisely why I've quit helping God. I'm as effective as a 1 year old with a broom.

Pray, proclaim, fight, obey, serve, love, forgive, follow. All those things I remember being instructed by God through His word.

"Help me out." Not so much.

Teach, baptize, tell, give, bring, watch, repent.  Those words too come to mind.

"Do me a favor." Not that one.

I'd like to think the absence of those phrases would eliminate the notion from our brains, but I can say from experience that isn't the case. It's tempting to feel some degree of awesomeness in performing a task on behalf of God. Like God must really delight in me, check out this daughter of His I am helping. Check out this hurting brother I am feeding. Feed and clothe the least of these- I'm doing this for you, God.

But the truth is, God doesn't need my help. He's not a frazzled parent, relinquishing His broom to a bossy toddler.

God is in charge. And that's the case always.

So, what's the big difference? What's the big deal if I feel like I'm doing an act to help God or if I'm doing it to help my neighbor? It's precisely this- who is in control?

If I am assuming the Lord is in need of my service, I have some claim to its outcome. Just a little glory, not much, if it all turns out great. I'll give Him most- just hoard a little of the glory to myself, if that's ok.

On the other hand, if it all comes crashing down around me I ask, "God, what did I do wrong?"

I don't want to crawl up onto His lap. I want to crawl up on His throne. I want to grab the reins, and the reign. Just for a moment. Just until He can handle this without me.

Maybe that's not how you think. Maybe you don't feel pressure to make someone believe. Maybe you are content to teach your children the way of the Lord without fretting over whether or not you are going to screw it up and send them to hell in a hand-basket.

Maybe you don't lose sleep over unbelieving family and friends. Or over the starving multitudes. Or the children sold into slavery. Maybe you are content to teach and follow and serve, and know your role.

I have a hard time with that. Overwhelmed with the problems of the world, I forget Whose shoulders can carry it all. I forget that when I visit the poor, teach the children, listen to the lonely, I am not doing God a favor. I am following Jesus where He leads. Nothing more. And I'm sinning all the while. I'm being an imperfect disciple in the hands of the perfect and almighty God, who doesn't need my help, but chooses to use me in His plan.

God delights in me because He created me. He delights in me because He redeemed me and made me His own. And my readiness or reluctance to serve in His name will not diminish or augment His love for me. He loves me because He is love.

Now, are there consequences to withholding my service? Of course. Serious ones even. The Bible is clear on that as well. But not because God needed me and now His plan is going to fall apart because I'm selfish. If that was the case, He would accomplish nothing because I am more often than not a selfish individual. Any glimmers of selflessness come as a result of His work in me.

So I've given up "helping" God. At least for now. I'm sure I'll fall back into the pattern again somewhere down the road and He'll have to remind me that He can handle this whole life thing all on His own and I'm His beloved child, chosen and set apart to work alongside Him, but never in place of Him. I was never meant to carry that load, and that's because He loves us too much to give me His job.

Follow. It's a simple enough command, though difficult in execution. Fight, baptize, proclaim, feed, repent, etc. are all acts that on their own are too complicated for me to accomplish without His power. There's no need to add "Be God" onto the list. So today I start with the simplest of words, Believe, which is a gift in itself, and all the rest will fall into place.

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Linking up today with the always fabulous, Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday.

We're All Puzzled

We are having a garage sale.

This is the first one I have attempted in a while. I'm talking about 9 years. I think we did one with the church right after we got married to fund a youth group mission trip. Pretty sure that was the last time.

It's just a daunting task.

So these past years I've collected our treasures and given them away or donated them somewhere. Simply because I don't want to do the pricing thing., and because other people need those things.

My husband came in the door as I was purging toys the other day. "You ready to get rid of that stuff?"

"Yup."

"Good. What do you think about having a garage sale?" I gave him a You're kidding, right? look.

He wasn't kidding. The concept was simple. No pricing. We set up in the basement of the church. Freewill donation (maybe a section for things that need a bit bigger of a donation, we'll see). Every penny goes to fund my husband's and his friend's trip to Kenya in a few months to share Jesus.

I could do that. He put it on the calendar before I could back out.

Yesterday, I figured I better get to work with the organizing and boxing and whatnot. What better place to start than the puzzle closet? I opened the closet and perused the shelves for the puzzles we have neglected lately. Those would be the first to go.

There was just one problem. We have dozens of puzzles, and I guarantee you half of them don't have all their pieces.

New plan. I picked out the puzzles with the fewest pieces and counted the pieces in each. The complete ones were the first to go. The larger puzzles, we'd have to tackle those another way.

Another plan! (And I thought I wasn't a planner!) I'd wait until school was out, then have the kids grab some puzzles and we'd have some family puzzle time. Genius!

In case you are wondering how that went over, I've transcribed some of our wholesome and fun conversations below. I was going to put my words in red. Like Jesus. Jesus always spoke in red. But red doesn't show up very well round here, so we'll go with blue.

Ok, guys! Grab a couple puzzles and we'll work on them together.

Do we have to?

Yes, you have to. But I'll help you! It'll be fun.

(Eye rolls from the boy. He grabs a puzzle. The girls are a little more accommodating. They grab several and even manage to spill one 6 inches from the closet. )

Mom, this is hard.

I'll help you. Just let me help your little sister here first. No, get away from that! Can someone please get the baby away from the table?

Mom, this is hard.

Yeah, I know. I'll help you- I just have to clean these up first.

I don't like doing this.

Yes you do. Stop whining and finish it.

No I don't, it's too hard.

You've done that puzzle a hundred times. It's not too hard.

Can I be done?

Really? You can't just help me out on this one?

No. Can I please be done and go play?

Fine.

Thanks.

It's too bad you won't get any ice cream, though.

What?!

Your sisters get ice cream after supper because they are helping me. 

That's not fair! I want ice cream too!

It is too fair. I want to get these puzzles done. Anyone who helps gets ice cream after supper. If you choose not to help, that's your own choice.

He huffed and sat back down. His sister finished the puzzle with him as he provided some comic relief that had me wanting to beg him to go. Go play. It's fine, really.

It didn't go quite as I envisioned, but some progress was made. Some of the puzzles had all the pieces. Some didn't. I decided to finish some more after the kids were in bed.

One puzzle had given the 8 year old a tough time. 150 pieces, it should have been a cinch. The kids went to bed and I sat in front of the sparkly princess puzzle, ready to knock it out.

I despise that puzzle. I probably shouldn't admit this, but that sucker was hard. I'll blame the long day. And the fact that most of the pieces were identical in shape. I'd get to where I thought I was on a roll, then I'd pick up a piece, put it in its place, and realize I had to change about 3 other pieces around it because they were wrong.

"This is hard," I told my husband. He just laughed.

I say that to God a lot. Sometimes it seems that as soon as I get a piece in place, I have to reorganize everything else. And sometimes that is hard. Not to mention, I know I don't have all my pieces.

When we do puzzles, I tell the kids they have to wait to add the piece in their hand. "Another piece has to go there first. Then you'll be able to connect that one." The waiting for the right pieces can be hard too. I just want to get it all in there as soon as possible, and when it gets too hard, I just want to say, "Can I be done now?"

Of course, God is more gracious and wise than I am. His not yet isn't said in exasperation, but understanding. He is waiting too. And He loves me way too much to let me just give up and "go play."

He loves you that much too. We all have our own puzzles to work on. And everyone is missing pieces, at least for now. Sometimes we see things that fit, that should work, but we don't see the whole picture. We don't realize that those things that should work in our own mind don't actually belong there at all. Even the edge pieces can be tricky.

But there is a wonderful promise that I sing to myself, when things get tricky, or confusing, or frustrating:

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 

It's not my job to see the whole picture. It's not my job to see how everything is supposed to go. I only need to trust, place my pieces where He leads, and praise Him for the good things He is working in me. And they are all good things.

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Linking up with my buddy Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday today!

Eyes to See {Messy Monday}

If I was to measure the distance from her nose to the treats she sought, it could not have measured more than 8 inches.

I laughed my frustrated laugh, "They are literally right in front of your face."

"Huh?" Her eyes searched the counter and settled on the gummy worms my husband was now pointing to.

"Ooohhhh!"

In my helpful fashion I mused, "You must have zero peripheral vision." (To be sure, this was not the first time that day that her eyes had completely missed an item I asked her to fetch...)

"I was looking for a bag."

There it was. The moment I handed my giddy son his gummy worms and watched him skip into the living room, I showed initiative and went ahead and pulled more worms from the bag. I placed them in neat, equal piles on the counter.

She wasn't looking for neat, equal piles. She was looking for a bag.

Haha, Lord. I get it.

He does this to me all the time. I ask for something. I search for it in confusion. Then there it is. Right there. Right in front of my face.

I prayed that I would be able to make it through Glenn's funeral music relatively intact.

I then wrenched my back something fierce while working out, and spent the majority of the funeral focusing on the electricity massaging my back to keep the inflammation down.

Ok, it doesn't seem much like an answered prayer. It certainly wasn't in a package I expected, but the singing went awesome. As easy as breathing. (I'll blog more about the funeral on Wednesday.)

And I shouldn't be surprised. God's always wrapping up answered prayers in His own packages.

A deliverer in a basket in the reeds.

The Messiah in a little baby.

A healing cleanse in a dirty river.

Body and blood in bread and wine.

You are an answered prayer. You are to me, and to so many others. He hears our prayers and so often we want a magical finish. From what I've seen, God can definitely do that, but more often He changes the packaging. He wraps it in flesh. He wraps up His answered prayers in fallible people with hearts for God.

You are going to meet people today with messy lives. People who are praying for an answer, for a miracle. You might not be the answer, but you can be the one who points them to The Answer. You can show them the love and support that they need to get through this. You can be the one who receives the help from the person wondering if there is any purpose to their life.

Today I pray God give you the eyes to see His answers, no matter how their wrapped. And I pray He gives us all eyes to see that He has chosen us to point out His Answer to a broken and hurting world.

God bless your Messy Monday, Friends! I love you dearly!

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Today I am linking up with Inspire Me Monday!

Supernatural Hope {Fearless Friday}

I learned a few years back that just because death is common to all man, that doesn't make it common to our souls. Back then I lost my mother-in-law and two babies.

This past week, I lost a friend.

Details unnecessary beyond,"cancer sucks."

Tomorrow I sing for his funeral and I haven't practiced the song yet without crying. I guess I'm just hoping that if I practice it enough, I'll be all dried out. I already tried the "pretend it didn't happen" approach, hoping that would get me through Saturday, but it didn't work. The praise team sings too, and I'm just hoping no one expects a Grammy Award winning performance, because we were a mess at rehearsal.

He played guitar for us and I can't tell you how beautiful his music was.

So, he and his wife are my Fearless Friday. Because 7 months ago everything was fine, and now... it's not.

I thought about this yesterday as I drove home from Omaha. Perhaps they weren't fearless. Each appointment brought more and more bad news. They just knew they'd show up and he'd take tests and the results would come and... more bad news. That pattern can certainly cause some fear.

Still, the only word I heard out of their mouths was peace.

There were tears. More than I can imagine. I find it amazing even now as I write just how freely tears can flow. But when all was said and done, they had peace.

They could see something beyond this present circumstance, and that vision was supernatural. That strength, that perseverance, that optimism that they displayed- that was supernatural. It was fearless.

Because God reigned in their hearts and in this situation.

Fearlessness has nothing to do with your circumstances, and everything to do with your God.

When God is God, love overshadows fear. It doesn't annihilate the pain. It doesn't eradicate heartache. It gives hope. Supernatural hope.

"When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.

And I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me."

How He Loves, David Crowder

I don't have the words right now to tell you just how wonderful and loving this man was, this couple was. We were awed and thankful, so thankful, for their peace and their presence. I just ask that you pray. Pray for his beautiful wife, his kids, his grandkids, his friends. Thank God for His faithfulness. Ask for strength and comfort and anything else you can think of. And pray for those of us singing tomorrow. Lord, I Need You is hard enough to sing without crying. 

For now I'm just thanking God for His promises.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, 

and death shall be no more, 

neither shall there be mourning, 

nor crying, nor pain anymore, 

for the former things have passed away.”

 Revelation 21:4

Thank you all for your words of encouragement to me. I appreciate them so much, and it warms my heart to know that God is using me to bless others. I am so thankful for each of you. Have a blessed weekend.

Love,
Lauren