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.

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.

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.

The Only Word of Mouth That Really Matters Anyway

Not even sure where to begin with this. So I type and you read and I'm sure I'll get to the point eventually. ;) Actually, the fact that this blog is the flavor of procrastination you choose for these few precious minutes is a blessing to me. You are a busy person. As am I. So when we choose to spend this time together I am thankful.

It's not that I haven't felt like writing. It's just that we are in the "busy season" here as a pastor's family. I contemplated running through the basic list of all the obligations and responsibilities we have, but honestly it was making me a bit nauseus. Best not to think of it.

The Christmas season and end of the year, has a tendency toward the analytical. I can't tell you how many product reviews I have read on amazon and other websites. I've spent even more time reading recipes and comments on food blogs as my family steers their food consumption to a more whole and healthy diet. I've read warning labels on medicine, testimonials on home remedies, book reviews, Pinterest boards, tutorials...

Because in the end I want to know that if I put forth the time, money, effort, that in the end it will be worth it.

Because everything costs something, and I really don't want to waste anything.

So I filter searches, and follow stars. The ones attached to the general opinions of the masses.

And in all the assessment, I assess myself: How many stars would I give myself for the condition of my home? My care of the sick children? My songs in worship? My coaching of the team? My disposition? My generosity? My patience? My cooking? My wife-ing? My mom-ing?

I follow the stars. And they lead me in circles.

Then I open my impulse buy, and reading this stops the spinning and it makes all the difference. 

It reminds me that God's choice to come save, graft-in, this tired, weary soul is the only review that matters. The stars, the ratings I attach to myself- the ones I perceive come from others- those wither and fade.

God didn't seek four-star all-inclusive accomodations to house his flesh-born Son. We marvel that He would choose such humble surroundings, and yet forget that what makes a place spectacular is not the decor and finery, but the One who made it, dwells within it, chooses it.

Like our lives. Surely God could find a more worthy heart than mine in which to dwell. One not so tainted and jaded by sin. A person who can keep it together at least.

But it is the One who made us that matters. It is the One who dwells within us and chooses us as His own that transforms our lives into a beautiful story of His love, power, mercy, grace, forgiveness, and faithfulness. You are amazing, a miracle, because God has made you His own. The shortcomings we possess and can't ignore, they aren't a monument to our failures, they are a living testimony to the greatness of our God.

"See what kind of love the Father has given to us, 

that we should be called children of God; and so we are." 1 John 3:1a

There is only one star we need follow, and it is the one the directs us to Savior. Because the time, riches of heaven, and effort God put forth in His Son Jesus were all worth it to save us. We are worth it and He is worthy.

He says so.

"In the same way we also, when we were children, were enslaved to the elementary principles of the world.  But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God." Galatians 4:3-7

And that is really the only word of mouth that matters anyway.

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Would it not just be so amazing if I was able to write again before the end of the year? Oh, friends! I'm going to try. I really and truly am. I drive and live and read and think, "I need to write about this!" Then life passes, and I go to bed wondering what I did that day. It wasn't writing. So scout's- honor I will do my best to get to writing because I have so much to share and I really do enjoy our time together. Merry Christmas

Marigolds and Miracles {What to do When This Mess of World Steals Your Peace}

The husband is back! Safe. Sound. Here. Praise the Lord.

In his absence, my parents ventured north to help me around the home. Thank you thank you thank you...

My parents each have a specific set of skills and I know that. So I made lists. Mom and I went grocery shopping, and she assumed the role of "Laundry Fairy." My dad's list consisted of fix-it type stuff that needed to be done that we just never get around to doing. That and gardening.

"You still have a rabbit?" His question referred to the rabbit residing in our backyard our first year here. The animal was huge and destructive. And impossible to intimidate. It was because of this rabbit that I started planting marigolds. Even after the rabbit disappeared marigolds have kept their vigil and rabbits have kept away from my garden.

This past weekend, as I put my garden in the ground, sowing seeds and plants into the black earth, the marigolds stood small sentries.

Then I thought of my children.

Little sprouts growing, bearing fruit.

It is enough to scare the daylights out of me. Because I'm not guarding them against ravenous rabbits, but a lion seeking someone to devour.

And Christ's admonition falls heavy on my shoulders, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them..."

If Christ was talking about simple Sunday school and church, I could rest easy. Check and check. Enroll them in VBS... Check. After-school church programs... Check.

But something tells me that Christ is talking the walk. 

And I am easily convinced that if anyone is hindering their walk with Christ, it's me.

Casting stones and careless words. Is that really giving my children Jesus?

Not to mention a world ravaged by wars, strife, struggle. Abroad. Domestic. Human beings are capable of such atrocities and I am one and the same. What can my feeble efforts do to stop the world from breaking my young ones to bits?

I drown in thoughts, reaching toward scriptures until I surface. I am buoyed by one in particular:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Philippians 4:8

At one time I hastened through this verse, summarizing "just think about the happy things," as though pixie dust and happy thoughts would carry me over cares.

But that's not what it says. Focus on what is true. I list the truths, deliberately. The Truth illuminates the dark dread. The Beauty of Christ is the antidote to the fear poison.

I can worry myself sick. Fears consume in ways no "happy thoughts" can battle. But when I focus on what is true, just, pure, lovely, commendable... I am reminded of God. Of His love, power, mercy, providence. It has never depended on me. That was never the point. All along I was only to plant the marigolds and trust the Maker. 

Relief. Release.

Plant marigolds. Build fences. Resist the fear that would compel us to smother our sprouts "for their own protection." 

Instead, trust the Only One who has overcome the world. The One who began this good work in us in the first place, and Who promises to bring it to completion. 

Where His truth reigns, there reigns peace. Where His wisdom prevails, there prevails peace. Where His peace permeates, the world cannot overcome.

And it is in His peace that the big kids and little children of the world encounter Christ.

But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.

James 3:17

We Are Healed {Written in Wounds}

Fifth graders are cool. Perhaps you already know this. Perhaps you have the honor of housing and/or loving a fifth grader in your own family.

I don't, but for an hour or so a week, I get to interact with the beings after school. Adopt them temporarily. They meander into our church in steady stream of chatter. They snack with their friends. Then they sing (or don't sing) dorky camp songs with one of the dorkiest people I know- me.

Music has a kind of crazy magic that draws out of a person a wild abandon that just can't be released effectively through speech. Add in dancing and ridonkulous lyrics about baby sharks, and you have wholly different people. So in a way, I'm pretty much a magician. Maybe that's why I have been accepted into the tribe of fifth graders.

I was initiated yesterday. While other kids filed into the sanctuary, a lovely girl and her friend walked up to me to show off their sweatshirts. There wasn't much extraordinary about the shirts themselves, but what was scrawled on them was worthy of notice. I'm still not sure I understand why, but for some reason these girls had their friends sign their shirts. In permanent marker.

I repressed the questions of my inner mom ("And your moms are cool with this?"), and marveled at the creativity and comradery demonstrated in the multi-colored names across their arms and backs. Friends willing to sign off on these girls. They knew them and more than that, they approved of them. And they were willing to testify to that permanently.

"You wanna sign it?" She sounded so cool about it.

"Yes please," I answered. I'm not nearly so cool.

She held out her Sharpie rainbow and I selected my color. I signed her back. Because I have her back. I signed her friend's hood.

I've signed my name before. And I've signed off on the most horrible sins. Music works its magic and draws out my confession in worship:

"Oh, to see my name

Written in the wounds,

For through Your suffering I am free..."

"But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities..."

-Isaiah 53:5a

Yes, I signed off on His death. You can see my signature there. No Sharpie needed. It is written in His blood.

But that's not the end of the story. He loves us too much to end it there.

"Death is crushed to death;

Life is mine to live,

Won through Your selfless love."

-The Power of the Cross, by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend

"...upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed."

Isaiah 53:5b

And it is tonight and in the days to come that we receive admission to witness the most glorious of all paradoxes. The Servant King binds our wounds with His wounds. 

It's not just some cool theological mystery to ponder and solve. 

It's God the Father signing His name, His approval, onto His Son. Then clothing us in Him. 

We have put on Christ. (Galatians 3:27)

And it's more than clothing deep. It cuts right to the heart.

Because we are His friends. (John 15:13-15)

You are His friend.

He made you that way.

Because He loves you.

It is holy week, but Jesus didn't die for this week. He died for you.

So that when we are not enough, when things don't get done, when we say that thing that we shouldn't have said, when we sign our names to Christ's murder over and over again- He shows us the truth.

"I have called you by name. You are mine." 

-Isaiah 43:1

"I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand."

-John 10:28

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A blessed holy week to you all. I'd sign your sweatshirts any day. I pray for you in the days to come. Things have been crazy around these parts. Preparing for Easter, then Kenya. Reading the Bible in 90 days and doing a Beth Moore study simultaneously provides plenty of inspiration, but little time. Oh, and I have kids.

Which is probably why I'm linking late with Simply Beth yet again. But hey, better late than never.

Love you all!

Embarrassing Grace

We made it through the first few verses of the passage and stopped to discuss. My daughter and a third grade boy sat across the table from me. They answered the questions I asked them and we looked down at our Bibles to continue reading.

"I already know this story." It wasn't arrogant. Just an off-hand remark from my daughter who indeed knows and remembers the story well.

"I do too," I replied. "But I'm learning something new from it right now."

"Really?"

"You bet." 

I wasn't lying.

I asked them, "Why did Jesus wash the disciples' feet?"
"Because He loved them."
"Ok," I answered, "but why wash their feet? Couldn't He have just bought them something pretty?"
"Jesus doesn't just give pretty things to show His love."

She was right of course. We talked about how Jesus took the place of a servant, the lowest of the servants, and He looked at what made them dirty. He put the nastiness right in His face.

"I see it. I see your filth. And I'm not avoiding it. I'm not condoning it. I'm not glossing over it. I'm not giving you pretty things and ignoring the muck that has accumulated from a life of weary travel. I'm taking care of it."

I wonder how rigorous a cleansing it was. It always looks so poetic and gentle. Clear water cascading down caramel toes. How His hands must have felt.

I asked the kids what they thought went through the disciples' minds as Jesus did this.

"Uh? Okkkkkaaayyy?" I'd agree with that answer.

Peter couldn't handle it. "You shall never wash my feet." (John 13:8)

He was embarrassed. Embarrassed by His rabbi. Embarrassed that the man he followed would do something even below Peter's station. At that moment he probably would have been happier with something pretty.

And I get that. Because after reading this passage and hearing a sermon about a love that never gives up, I wonder why. I don't get it. I'm embarrassed.

Why, Lord? Why do you keep doing this? Day after day. It's the same old dirt. I can't keep it off my feet. I try and try and try. Why demean yourself to wash me when I'm just going to do it again? You are holy, so holy. Don't do this to yourself. I've tried it all already. I'll totally understand if you want to quit on me.

And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way because just an hour later one of the cutest children on the planet (who is not even mine) asked that very question of my husband during the children's sermon. Her three year old brain registered Christ's sacrifice, and her three year old lips questioned "why"?

"Because He loves us so much."

She took that in. "When will Jesus stop loving us?"

"Never. He will never ever stop loving us."

Her foster mother smiled. Eyes around the sanctuary glistened as the mystery of God's love was explained in the simplest of terms to the littlest of souls. Broken hearts in the room swelled with the abundant love of Christ.

That three year old heart bears the pain of abandonment. The people meant to care for her have given up on her. This morning, she was given the knowledge of a love that never ends. Never ever. It's something her mind just couldn't comprehend.

We are so used to giving up. We can't escape it. At some point in our lives someone has given up on us.

We've given up on ourselves.

So when God makes Himself low enough to put His face not into our face, into our feet, and say I will wash and wash and wash. Every day. Because love doesn't give up.

It's just too much.

And He was leading by example. "For I have given you an example that you should do just as I have done to you." His gift of love was one to be shared, never contained.

So who are you going to embarrass today? Who will find a love in you a love that never quits? Step away from the pretty things. It's time to get dirty.

I'm praying for you this week, Sweet Friends. Praying that you are overwhelmed by Christ's love. Praying that His love steps into your life in a way that inspires you to serve others. Praying that you know you will always give up on yourself before Jesus does.

Because Jesus will never stop loving you. Never ever.

He Plays Beautifully

I don't often admit the thoughts that run through my head during a worship service. I suspect that's because, like most people, my mind isn't always where it belongs. Which is why the fact that I am about to tell you a passing thought I had during a funeral is kind of hard for me.

Maybe it was selfish.

Glenn's guitar sat just two feet from me as I rested on the piano bench. He wasn't there to play it. It was his funeral.

After the music was sung, my eyes wandered back over to the instrument I wouldn't hear him play. They perched there for a moment. Just long enough for me to wonder, wouldn't it be amazing if that was a magic guitar? 

A brief scene coursed through my imagination. Some guy wanders into our praise team loft and sees the guitar sitting in its stand. He ponders it a moment, glances around to make sure no one is paying attention, then picks it up. He sits on the pew behind him and places the guitar on his lap, the back of it resting on his chest. Without explanation, his fingers move exactly to the right parts of the guitar like they have found their home. He leans over the instrument. His body is possessed by a musical talent he never knew he had and, like magic, the guitar makes a guitarist out of the man. He picks beautifully.

But it wouldn't be Glenn. So it wouldn't matter. And there are no such things as magic guitars.

It's just a piece of wood, I remembered.

But for some reason I couldn't let the thought rest there. It's been haunting me these past weeks.

The cross, that was just a piece of wood too. A couple pieces of wood held together by some ropes or something. But in the right hands, it played the most beautiful music I've ever heard. The music of my redemption.

We get wrapped up in the things, but with that guitar there was no doubt that the talent resided in its master. Glenn was good. He was so good. You just couldn't be unhappy while he was playing. It was like magic.
But the most beautiful part of all was that he shared it. His music was a sacrifice to God. He didn't keep it to himself. He just couldn't.

God has done that all along. From the beginning when He breathed out "let there be light" and there was, He showed us that the beauty lies in the Creator. He beckons us throughout His Word over and over to look beyond the nuts and bolts of what we see, and see the Master behind it all. And He plays beautifully.

So why do we doubt His work in us?

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worth of praise, think about these things. -Philippians 4:8

If you are like me, you are more than willing to check off the list above thinking "these things" about other people. She is lovely. He is so commendable.

But the first thing to remember is that Paul tells us to think about what is true.

Here is the truth: you are those things too.

Not on your own of course. Me neither. But God has breathed His Spirit into you, and if He can work wonders on a bloody hunk of wood, then He will work wonders in you. And through you.

You are not ordinary. Not anymore. You might look it on the outside, but the truth is He is extraordinary and what He has done in your heart is the most amazing thing in the world. So amazing the world cannot understand it. So amazing the devil would try anything to ruin it. So amazing that you cannot listen to the worthless lies of the father of lies anymore.

In God's hands there is no such thing as ordinary. He cannot touch a thing without it being amazing just from having been in contact with Him. He might wrap it up in what the world will say is "common," but there is nothing common about following God. Nothing.

You are more than a hunk of wood. You are a precious and beautiful instrument in the hands of the Master Artist. And it's not magic. It's real. There can be no doubt, He plays you beautifully.

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Linking up with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday (on this Thursday morning:))

Christmas With Judas

I'm writing this because everyone is stuck with someone.

And Christmas is a particularly adhesive time of the year.

Perhaps you already have a person in mind, but in case you don't I will jog your memory.

The person you're stuck with isn't the well-meaning, but tactless, guy at the office (or family member) whose comments you have learned to let roll off your back.

It's that person you don't want to see. The one who would make your life easier if they simply moved- out of the school, out of the office, out of the town, out of the country, off of your Facebook.

The wild-card that has you on your guard.

It's your cause-and-effect person. You know,

"I wouldn't yell so much if they'd just listen to me the first time." (Wait, that's just my kids.)

"If they wouldn't complain about everything, then I would make more of an effort to talk to them."

"If they wouldn't shove their 'perfect' family in my face, then I wouldn't feel so insecure."

"I'm really good at taming my tongue except when they do things specifically to annoy me."

It could be any manner of if-then statements, but when it comes down to it- it's the person who has hurt you repeatedly with their words and actions.

If you don't currently interact with any hurtful people, enjoy it! Then keep reading because chances are that person will walk into your life eventually, and even if they don't there's still some Jesus time coming up and who wants to pass on that?

Repeated interactions with these people threaten to do two very unpleasant things-

1. Calcify into an emotional kidney stone that moves painfully whenever they are near.
2. Turn you into an emotional hypochondriac- imaging emotional injuries all over the place where they were never intended.

Thankfully, I don't have "sticky" people in my family. But I know there are lots of people who do. There are sticky people at our jobs, in our neighborhood, even in our church.

So, how are we going to encounter these sticky people at Christmas and beyond without losing it? It would be easier if we didn't have to face them, but I know too many people for whom that's simply not an option, so let's have a game plan.

You've probably already gone the prayer route. Maybe you've been driven to your knees repeatedly over these issues. If not- just go ahead and fall to them. Don't pray while you are sweeping or balancing the checkbook. I'm not saying it doesn't work- prayers work anywhere and everywhere- I'm saying it benefits your peace of mind less. Some things you can't multitask. This may be one of those things.

Take some lessons from scripture. Search out the Godly people who encountered sticky people. How did David behave around King Saul? How did Jacob deal with his father-in-law?

How did Jesus treat Judas?

What a blessing is ours that we have such a close relationship with our God- so much so that there is no human relationship that is beyond His comprehension.

I thought about Judas the other day. It's easy to write the other disciples a pass for their betrayals. They were scared stupid. Eventually they lived and died following Jesus.

We can't say the same for Judas.

He spent every single day with the Savior and he never got it. How did Jesus do it? How did He face His betrayer every. single. day? And no rolling of the eyes? No snide comments? No gossiping? No punching him in the face? I don't get it.

The obvious answer is that Jesus was perfect. Jesus was God and man. And we're obviously not God, so that must mean this is impossible for us, right?

But we shouldn't let ourselves off the hook that easily, not because we need to try harder to be holy at Christmas, but because giving up the fight and giving in to our own hurt feelings will only hurt us more in the long run.

The secret isn't in dissecting the hurt and pain in their own lives. It might help a little, but it doesn't justify a thing in the midst of the pain they have caused us. The secret is in the person of Jesus.

Jesus was always about the work of His Father. 

At those moments when we are face to face with the hurt of "sticky" people around us, we need to remember Who is really in charge. It's not them. It's not even us. God is orchestrating it all for a very specific purpose. It stinks, it hurts, but the truth is that God is equipping you to experience and reveal His love.

When we are weak, He is strong. And He displays His strength most when we are buckled in weakness. We are tempted to give the other person the power. They are the ones who "cause" our reactions. But the truth is they don't actually have that power unless we give it to them.

How about we study the One who really has the power? Take some time and search the scriptures for the sticky people. How did God's people remain upright? They ascribed power and glory and honor to God. What happened when they succumbed to harmful reactions? They found forgiveness in His arms.

Forgiveness is another post, another blog, all it's own, but for now let's not spend this Christmas trying to "get through it." Let's live it. Really live it with other people that Jesus was born for. Even the sticky people because God stuck us together for a reason, and His strength, love, and glory are worth it all.

It's my prayer as you encounter people of all kinds, that the love and power of God works in you to love and live freely. I pray we all ascribe to God the power that He deserves and refuse to share that power with anyone else. And I pray you all enjoy this last week of Advent- really enjoy it!

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This morning I am linking up with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday, If I get around to it, maybe I'll link up with others too!

"Worth It" Friends

I'm suffering from a vacation hangover. I feel I should report that any consequent memory loss is simply due to sleep deprivation or old age. While the hubs headed to a Sr. High youth gathering, the rest of us ventured out to see friends for 25 hours of joyful Jesus-loving happy time.

My mom told me I was more adventurous than she used to be. Who just packs up their 4 kids by themselves to drive 3 hours to see friends for one night? Then we joked that it was really more a matter of survival than anything else.

But the truth is- they are worth it.

I pray you have "worth it" friends.

You can't truly define a "worth it" friend, but in the fashion of Mr. Foxworthy I'll give you some brief examples:

You Might Have a "Worth it" Friend if...

1. Your house is crazy busy and a total mess, but you shoot them a text or a phone call because they have been on your heart lately.

2. You realize you haven't talked to them in a couple months, but when you call them it's like no time has passed.

3. You don't have to shower, wear makeup, or change out of your pajamas to see them.

4. You can talk about the most disgusting aspects of health and children, really it's ok. Shoot- you probably even ask their medical opinion.

5. You can ask each other questions about pretty much anything- even those things that require real honesty.

6. You never judge- and you never feel judged- even when you don't do everything exactly alike.

7. You have no idea how dirty or clean each others' houses are because you are just so excited to be together!

8. You can search each others' kitchen cabinets, refrigerators, and drawers for anything you need.

9. You can laugh and cry together.

10. You make each other "better" people.

(Now share this list with ten other friends in the next 8.5 minutes or in 17 days your old 5th grade teacher's niece will receive a disturbing letter in the mail marked, "You are pre-approved!")

This isn't some sappy list to forward. It's just ten reasons I carted four kids halfway across the state to chill with this family.

Because I knew it would totally be worth it.

Maybe you see where I'm going with this.

Of course, Jesus is totally worth it, but that's not my point. Harsh much, Lauren? I didn't mean that to sound flippant. It's just that my real point is this:

We have a God that comes to us.

And He came because we are worth it.

Not in and of ourselves. It wasn't our worthiness that sent Him here- it was His.

He created us and watched as His blessed children traded His love for their own pride.

Then He watched it again. The Old Testament shows scene after scene of betrayal- all by humanity.

And the faithfulness of God.

Because He knew it would be worth it.

It would be worth the birth. The persecution. The abandonment. The betrayal. The death.

It would be worth the tired feet. The chapped skin. The aching muscles. The hunger. The fatigue.

It would be worth the dirty looks. The cutting words.

It would be worth the separation- the total separation from the Father.

It would be worth it because we would finally be together. The Bridegroom and His bride.

So He left it all behind, traveled from the throne of heaven and into His creation with nothing.

To offer Himself up and redeem us. To set the captives free.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba, Father! So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

Galatians 4:4-7

It's Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter all wrapped up into one glorious holy day. One that we will be celebrating for all eternity.

As the next few days and weeks turn into one giant countdown of parties, presents, houseguests, and travels, may we be mindful of the One who truly is Worthy and who loves us beyond compare.

I Check Jesus

The worship service was awesome, in case you were wondering. I sure do hope you aren't tired of reading the disastrous exploits of a young family in church, because I can tell you there is more where this came from.
 

The boy displayed near-OCD tendencies, adjusting of his mohawk while sitting in the front of the church- kneeling tall, facing backward on the pew to survey the crowd during the sermon.

The three year old was relentless, producing uncontrollable and inexplicable sobs throughout the service- the full realization of their origin not occurring until 15 minutes after we arrived home- whence she fell asleep.

 



So I quit my job as soon as I got home. It happens sometimes. I tell my husband that his kids annoy me, and then I take a breath before heading back out into the fray.

I meandered out of our bedroom, embraced by exhaustion and insanity, and then Scott mentioned his amusing exchange with our son.

 

It seems that while Scott was opening up the floor to any other announcements after church, our darling boy asked him to announce that there was a new sign up sheet in the back of the church. "For who you like better- Jesus or the devil."

 

"Yeah. I don't think so, Bud."

 

I asked our son if there was indeed that sign up in the back of the church. He confirmed it and went to fetch it for me. (There- it is recorded. He listened and obeyed. Remind me of this in the future, please.)

 

Scrawled in kindergarten handwriting on a communion card were his words (which I shall translate into modern English for you): "The wan (one) you lik (like) more. Check one. (I think.) Devil / Jesus."

 

Reasons for praise carried from the sanctuary to the kitchen.

 

I laughed and lauded. Then I asked, "Which one would you check?"

 

"Mom, I checked Jesus!"
 

 

Then from the oldest girl in the living room, "I check Jesus!"

 

And the three year old, "I check Jesus!"



 

They spoke the name of the devil with no fear. And the name of the Savior with no hesitation.

 

The name that is above every name, spoken by the young, the weak, the unruly. And how that must please Him.

 

Because they were borne of His will, not mine. And the hoodlums that send me to my room crying for just a bit of peace, are full of the life that He gave them. In the kitchen last Sunday, they spoke the name of their most important family member as though He was right there.

 

Out of the chaos a simple sentence, and the rest just melted away.

 

"I check Jesus!"

 

In the face of all the mountains of chores, deadlines, relationships, may I remember to Whom I belong. I am His and He is mine. You are in charge, Lord. I check Jesus.

 

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Today I am linking up with the writing family over at Simply Beth. Stop over! Read! Write! Link up! Encourage and be encouraged:)



Serving the Chronic Unbeliever {Messy Monday}

 

 

"I sometimes hear Christians talk about how terrible life must be for atheists. But our lives were not terrible. Life actually seemed pretty wonderful, filled with opportunity and good conversation and privilege. I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don't know what you don't know. How could I have missed something I didn't think existed?"

 

So said Fox News' Highly Reluctant Jesus Follower Kirsten Powers, in her article for Christianity Today.

 

The quote haunted me even days after reading it. I've heard that before, but it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of living for this world alone.

 

Don't worry- God clued me in yesterday morning. I woke up in pain. Not the good kind of pain that tells me I worked my body hard and it was paying off. Joint pain. I don't talk about it much because it seems so... blah. Mundane. It's not glamorous. It's just arthritis, and since it is so common and boring I'd rather just act like I don't have it.

 

I couldn't do that yesterday. My arthritis fooled me like it does from time to time. Like it did two days ago when I was feeling good. So good. Like, normal good. And I'd had that normal feeling for a few days in a row and I thought perhaps the most ridiculously unfunny thought, "Maybe it's gone."

 

 Really, a few days of ease and I think it's gone? Yet it happens every time.

 

We get used to what we know. When I wake up with joint pain every morning, albeit it is slight in comparison with so many, I get used to it. It can be tiresome sure, but I function and everything seems fine. Like Kirsten, I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don't know what you don't know.

 

Unbelief is like being diagnosed with chronic illness.

 

* You do what you can and you deal. When you're in a lot of pain, you get desperate and might even try a crazy remedy just to see if it works, but if there are no immediate results you move on.

 

* You get so used to the abnormal, that it becomes your normal. And that is fine as long as it is manageable. You live life as usual.

 

* Unless someone lives a pain free life in front of your face, you actually forget that some people have that option.

 

* You don't take advice from anyone on the topic unless you trust them. That means they either have a vague idea of how you feel, they have treated multiple people with your condition and have a heart for it, or they have a vested interest in your wellbeing- meaning they like you enough to listen to you.

 

Maybe our witness would be more effective if we saw unbelief for what it was: a soul-killing sickness that only Jesus can cure.

 

Would that add some urgency to the issue?

 

Would that take the pressure off of us to "save" the person, and place it on the Only One who can?

 

Would that highlight the true gift we have to serve those around us?

 

 

So how do the "well" serve the "sick"?:

 

* Don't "deal." Live. Jesus needs to be more than the crazy remedy for our personal lives. He needs to be our lives. I'm not talking the need to live perfectly as an example to the sinners around. I'm talking living in joy and thankfulness, and forgiving ourselves and others when we screw up. I'm talking living with patience and hope when the immediate results the world demands do not coordinate with the awesome plan God is working.

 

* Live normally in an abnormal world. Christians are weird. Maybe we are in the abnormal minority. So own it. Revel in it. As vanilla as it may seem to you when you step out of the gossip, out of the parties, out of the complaining- what you are doing is rebellious. You are rebelling against the world! That doesn't mean leaving out the ungodly participants. It means living respectably and serving neighbors no matter how they spend their time and resources. People know who they can trust- who they can talk to honestly- and when you show yourself to be humble and trustworthy, they'll pick up on that.

 

* Don't mask your struggles- show them Who's boss. Fake isn't following. Denial isn't discipleship. And just like people detect an honest person, they just as easily detect a false one. The only difference in our struggles is how we deal with them. Unbelievers ignore their struggles or bow to them. Believers do neither. Believers face their struggles for what they are, and bow only to the One who bears our burdens for us. One of the greatest gifts you can give your unbelieving neighbor is a glimpse into your imperfect life, because it is there that the might of God shines gloriously.

 

* Be a friend, not a fixer. Think about it- who do people speak most honestly to? Doctors and loved ones. So, unless you are interacting with them as their therapist, if you aren't willing to love them they probably won't be open to your witness. That doesn't mean you don't offer it, that just means you take the time to love first. Remember, the sick need relief.

 

* Pray for them. This is something that has come to mind a lot lately. I guess there have just been a lot of situations where all I could do was pray. All I could do. Like interceding to the Lord on behalf of a friend, taking that person's needs and cares to Jesus, was too little. What? It is the number one thing any of us can do, and as I ponder and pray on this topic I hope to add a new page to this blog for prayer scriptures, quotes, and concerns.

 

If you are curious about any other specific ways you can love the unbelieving (or the believing, for that matter), Colossians 3 has some absolutely rad words of wisdom. Seriously, so good. And after all that good stuff, Paul writes these words, that I pray will resonate with you all day long:

 

 

Praying for a love-filled, harmonious, and God-glorifying day for us all around.

Take a Picture

"I should have taken a picture."

His eyes surveyed the kitchen in search of the photographic gem to which I was, no doubt, referring. He found nothing. "Of what?"

"Of this." My arm swept the room. "It was clean this morning."

Really clean. I don't mean clean for a home of 6. I mean, legitimately clean.

But in the battle of stuff and counters. Really, the counters were just outnumbered. And trampled. By the stuff.

And I was tempted, so tempted, to view the morning scrub as a wash. Why? Why, when it's just going to get messy again?

Ever feel like a hamster on a wheel? Always moving- never getting anywhere? Wake up. Shower (maybe). Feed. Eat. Drink...

Fear not, for I am with you...

In a world where my most immediate threat is the flu bug or if the snow pants from last year will fit the kids, those words could threaten hollowness.

But they don't.

Because my most immediate fears come from within- not without.

What if it doesn't matter?
What if I miss something?
What if I can't protect them?
What if they don't need me?

Because, while I feel like my little feet are scrambling over already trodden ground, I see the progression of time. Measured it in foliage, store merchandise, farm machinery consuming the hillsides. Reaping what they sow, I know I will too one day.

What if I screw up?

He answers that fear as clearly as He does every other fear- with His name.

Screw up? Lauren surely will. It's a when, not an if.

But God never screws up. He created me, recreated me, and I bear His name.

But now thus says the Lord,

he who created you, O Jacob,

he who formed you, O Israel:

 

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine...

 

Everyone who is called by name,

whom I created for my glory,

whom I formed and made."

 

Isaiah 43:1, 7

I should have taken a picture. Not because it was so awesome (which it really was), but because this ground that we tread, as worn as it may be, is hallowed ground. The Lord of all creation dwells within us, blesses the messes, and uses it all for His glory.

Praying that your world reflects the glory of your Lord today, no matter how cluttered, dusty, or grimy it may be. The Father chose a trough to hold His only Son, and He has chosen us as well!

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This morning, I am linking up with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday! Want to read some wonderful posts on three words? Just click on the button on the right!

Just Call Me "Repurposed" (Messy Monday)

I did some Christmas shopping the other day. Right, it's not Halloween yet. And please don't think I'm on the ball. I'm just a survivalist. Last Christmas nearly killed me from stress, so I've tried to get a few things done before my brain fills up with extras and explodes in cranky words and unrealistic expectations.

 

So, I went shopping last week! And in an effort to do good while we shop, a dear friend and I traveled a little ways to Earthings, a cute Fair Trade Shop tucked snugly in Storm Lake, Iowa. We spent an hour and a half in that store. And it's no Wal-Mart. No huge warehouse, no burning calories pushing a 100 pound cart half a mile to get to the dairy section. A shop. Oh, right, and I had a toddler with me.

 

I bought a few things, some of which are Christmas gifts, so their pictures are omitted. (Sorry, Readers. Haha, Family.) But being a Fair Trade store, every piece had a story. Three of which have described me so often.

 

And maybe you too?

 

1. The "angels with attitude." For if you feel like you're nothing special.

 

Crafted by orphaned students in Northern Zululand, Africa as part of an "extra-mural activity." The proceeds from each angel go to support the students directly.

Now pop cans are valuable in Iowa. So valuable you have to pay a 5 cent deposit just to get one because the state would like them back when you are done, thank you. But really, they're nothing special. You find them everywhere. Most look exactly like thousands or millions of others.

 

And I get that. Feeling like one of a million. Instead of one in a million. Like nothing special- just like all the other mom bloggers, pastors' wives, moms.

 

But this angel. It was crafted with care. And so are you.

 

We are all made of the same material. Dust crafted, shaped, formed into unique gifts. Gifts that serve a purpose. Gifts that bring hope, nourishment, love to those around us. Nothing special? You are handmade, one of a kind. Priceless.

 

For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
    my soul knows it very well.

 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.

Psalm 139:13-16

 

 

2. The Haitian Oil Drum Art. (Not pictured.) For if you feel like you've outlived your usefulness.

 

Craftsmen in Haiti acquire used oil drums and use their hand tools to craft the coolest art you have ever seen. Too bad I can't show it to you. Yet. Wait til January;)

 

So clear at times, our purpose is a driving force in our ability to face the day, love the people.

 

Then it changes. Life. Kids grow. Jobs change. We move. Or we just stay put, and things change around us. That friend doesn't need us. Someone else steps into our position.

 

Purposes change. They don't die. You live and breathe on purpose, for purpose. Maybe your purpose comes with more hanging out and being there for others, than heavy lifting like it used to be, but it is beautiful what God does in you. Beautiful and so soooo cool. And He chose you to do it.

 

3. (Perhaps my favorite.) Mr. Ellie Poo*. For when you feel like a steaming pile.

 

You're either going to think this is really gross, or really cool. But seeing as I'm unsure as to how anyone would receive a gift of stationary made from elephant dung, I declined buying it for Christmas presents, and here is a little picture of my new notepad:

 

 

It's one enormous story of redemption, this one. Just how absolutely like our salvation!

 

A worthless pile of poop, a stinking testimony to indiscretions that ultimately lead to death (the elephants ate the farmland, so the farmers shot and killed them).

 

And yet, someone saw the value of that poop. They cleaned it up. Boiled it, pressed it, and ultimately repurposed it. (And made it quite cute, might I add.)

 

Did it take some imagination and hard work? You bet. But they put in the time and energy, because that meant life. It put a stop to the carnage.

 

Not too hard to see that connection. I look at my notepad, and I treasure it. Partly because it cost so much (I use every millimeter front and back).

 

Partly because it is a reminder to me that there is nothing so horrid that God cannot use it for His purposes.

 

I cannot sin so greatly that I am deemed useless to my Maker. Boiled, pressed, repurposed for His purpose. So He can write His story and His glory all over me. All over every precious millimeter of my soul that cost Him so much. So He could stop the death. The carnage. And bring life.

 

So when people see my life, I can tell them honestly that I was such a piece of poop, and the only way I am here and in this condition of joy is because of the love, imagination, care, hard work, persistence, artistry, and determination of my God to bring life. Because He saw beyond the crap. He saw more. And I am so thankful that He continues to see more, because that crap is a daily battle.

 

What a gift, right? Makes you want to go buy some elephant dung paper? :) I certainly hope so! It's so rad!

 

Praying God opens your eyes to the little reminders of His unending love and faithfulness today.

 

What items in your life remind you of God's faithfulness?

How can you tackle the lies of being just like everyone else,

or uselessness,

or beyond love today?

 

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*Want to know the full scoop on how Mr. Ellie Poo came to be? (Heehee.) Click here.

Thank God It's Monday: Here's to the Rebounds!

"He missed the shot! But he got the rebound!"

 

He played the commentator and baller simultaneously- announcing his own moves aloud as I watched.

 

"And another rebound! And another! Another rebound!"

 

Who knows just how many shots he missed before his rebound paid off in the currency of a basket, but that wasn't going to bother him. At all. Because look at all those rebounds!

 

It's the ability to recognize the failures, yet dwell on the good that comes from it, and it's a perspective that eludes all of us at times. Maybe that's why I started this "Thank God It's Monday" segment to supplement the Messy Mondays. We get used to going with the flow, however negative it may be, and sometimes we need to step out of the stream and change course.

 

Psalm 77 does just that. Asaph cries aloud to God, his soul refuses to be comforted.

"Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?" (v. 9)

Then he steps out of the stream.

"Then I said, 'I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.' I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old." (vs. 10-11)

The law needs to work on our hearts to humble us, but when we let him work overtime, he gets a little power-hungry. He tries to take over. To become our god.

So let the law work, but when his job is over, put him back in his place.

Because dwelling on your shortcomings can be an idol too. And it robs the resurrection of its power.

Step out of the stream, off the court, and recalibrate, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith. And live in His joy.

If you are looking for scriptures in which you may ponder the mighty deeds of the Lord, look at these passages throughout your week!

 

• Psalm 16
• 1Thessalonians 5:9-24
• Colossians 2:6-15
• Ephesians 6:10-20
• Ephesians 2:1-10
• 2 Corinthians 5:14-21

 Praying for recalibration in your days ahead; the strength, courage, and wisdom to step outside of your circumstances and prison of sin and live in the grace of a God who loves you so so so much!

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1Thessalonians 5:16-18

If You Can

 And someone from the crowd answered him, “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid. So I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they were not able.” And he answered them, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you? Bring him to me.” And they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. 

Talk about drama. We all like a little drama in our lives, preferably in a book or on TV- nothing that directly affects us, of course. But man, does my heart break for this dad in Mark 9.

 

 And Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” And he said, “From childhood.  And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him."

I have four perfectly healthy children. The terror and struggle that gripped this poor man's life are beyond my comprehension. Still, I can think of more than one time I have thought something similar to his next statement: 

But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”

If you can.

Now, a good Christian girl like me would probably not dare to say it in those words exactly, but with the despair I have felt in my soul over the plight of others, or hopelessness that has hung about my neck in the face of guilt and unbelief, I might as well have said it verbatim. In straight-up fear, I have asked...

"If you can."

As if I didn't call upon the One who makes all things new. The One who moves mountains, and removes hearts of stone to replace them with living, beating hearts of flesh.

And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” 

This is no prosperity gospel. No "have more faith and you can do whatever you put your mind to."

No. But it is truth. I have seen it on the faces of the strongest women I know. The ones who have gone through unspeakable horrors and been refined by the fires of grief, and come out on the other side with a faith stronger than I can describe.

 

Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!”

It is a desperate thing to call out to the Lord when there are simply no other options left, because you know you have tried them all. But that doesn't keep the Lord from helping you. So often our last resort, when He should be our go-to guy, yet He works in us all the same.

And when Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.” And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose.

If you are struggling with whether or not God can remedy your circumstance, let me tell you- He can.

If you are struggling because you know God can, you just don't know if He will, take heart. God is not unsympathetic, and His is not far off. In fact, He is just the opposite:

 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Hebrews 4:15-16

We do not have a God who sits on His throne making arbitrary decisions about whether or not to please us. We are dearly beloved children of the Great Physician, who works on our broken selves and whispers in our aching ears, "Just keep watching, and wait. It is going to be so worth it."

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

2nd Corinthians 4:16-18

 

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