Just finished a plate of pancakes with strawberries.
Caroline and I are enjoying "a night in" together. Ava is gone to a birthday party. Shep and Zeke are off doing boy stuff that most certainly includes shooting rifles and shotguns and such.
The house is oddly quiet.
Francesca Batistelli is singing in the background (love her) and Caroline is making delightful sounds as she rips up an old magazine. She loves doing this. She lays on her side and uses her left hand to turn the pages and rip them out.
I guess it is the equivalent of what it feels like to rip open presents...just minus the presents.
Anyway I thought this might just be the perfect time to sit down and type out some of what has been rolling around in my brain lately.
A couple of weeks ago I attended a memorial service for a dear friend's mom that passed away.
It was obvious that she was a kind and generous woman.
Observing her family it seemed as though her love kept on living...even after she was gone.
Before she had passed away she had told her daughter that if she had any advice to give at the end of her life it would be this: listen to what you see.
Wow.
5 powerful little words.
I try to be a good listener.
Sometimes my ADD tendencies get in the way with that. (I am easily bored)
But I am rather nosy.
I notice stuff.
I notice people.
I notice body language.
I notice expressions and tension.
I notice fear, anxiety, and anger.
I notice insecurity.
God has been working in my heart and life since I was 9 years old. But this past year or so He has begun a new work.
It has kind of caught me by surprise.
It seems as though most of my life God has been slowly teaching me to love Him.
But in this past year....He has opened my heart up to love people. Really love them.
After all~ loving Him means loving what and WHO He loves.
He loves scoundrels.
He loves drunks.
He loves liars.
He loves addicts.
He loves haters.
He loves idiots.
He loves doubters.
He loves racists.
He loves abusers.
He loves betrayers.
He loves thieves.
He loves sinners.
Here is the thing: I AM ALL OF THAT.
My heart has been made new. But I know the thoughts that I think. I still battle with my flesh.
Without Jesus...I would reach for any and all "feel good" remedies. I would ache for fulfillment. I would chase after empty thrills just to feel something.
When we see ourselves as who we really are ~ then others aren't so bad.
Loving them is no longer a chore.
Loving them is easy. Because they are JUST LIKE US.
One way believers can do this is to take the advice my friend's mom gave: listen to what you see.
Most people don't want to be in the spotlight but they do like being noticed.
Look around.
Someone needs an encouraging word.
Someone desperately needs a compliment.
Someone is falling apart.
Someone is contemplating leaving their spouse.
Someone is depressed.
Someone is battling addiction.
Someone is losing hope.
Someone needs a miracle.
Someone has bills they can't pay.
Someone needs a second chance.
Listen with your eyes.
I have heard it said that when Jesus lived he was a very busy man on a mission but He was never in a hurry.
Our hurried lives keep us from having fellowship.
Being in a hurry all the time leaves very little room to love people.
I am right smack in the middle of learning this lesson with God.
He has to go super slow with me.
But as I have began to listen to what I see and engage people that I have never noticed before...my life has begun to bulge with blessing.
Some folks may take me the wrong way but when love is our motive even that isn't offensive.
Being free enough with myself to love others is seriously the coolest thing I have experienced in a long time.
Lives change with love.
He modeled it for us.
Let's look around and listen with our eyes.
We may never know the impact that our love has on someone else.
Matthew 22: 37-40
Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments."'
Walking By Faith
Friday, April 24, 2015
Saturday, April 18, 2015
the BOAST post
There is this song we sing at church that goes something like this...
"Blessed be Your Name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness blessed be Your Name.
Blessed be Your Name when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be blessed be Your Name.
Every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in Lord...still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be Your Name."
I cannot tell you how many times I have sung that song and felt nothing at all like blessing the name of Jesus.
Hope has felt a million miles away and difficult days have numbered more than the easy ones.
Yet...I would sing it loud. Beyond what I felt.
I would sing of what I knew.
I would sing beyond the day. Beyond the present circumstances.
And some days that song would reach full volume from my voice while tears of pain and doubt stained my face.
Its just what we do.
But the past 2 weeks have been different.
Tonight that song is not only known but it is felt as well.
Now THAT is fun.
Lots of the time Jesus asks us to press through with praise. Sing it and declare it despite what you feel. Despite what you see it front of you.
And then....there are the other times. The times our hearts want to burst from joy. The times our eyes get a glimpse of God doing the impossible things.
My Caroline has done some new things lately. Formerly impossible things.
This girl is almost 13 years old.
In the past 12 days she has been able to sit (without help) in a camp chair.
She has also said her brother's name. He goes by "Zeke". Her version sounded something like "Eeekk". But still. Beautiful to us.
And lastly, a few days ago she sipped liquid up through a straw.
Y'all.
I could just come unglued.
These little things might as well be mountains to us.
I have been a picture-taking and videoing fool.
Unashamed I might add.
These past 2 weeks hope of the new has painted a new canvas for us. Colors I have never seen have suddenly appeared and my soul can hardly stand it.
Hope is a gorgeous view.
Limitless possibilities with a God that delights to bless His children.
Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His holy Name.
Sing like never before.
Oh my soul.
I worship His holy Name.
Tomorrow the skies of blue may darken to monotonous gray once again.
Days may stretch into weeks and months and years.
Hardship and difficulty will no doubt knock upon my door.
But today....the colors are vibrant. These weeks have refreshed my faith. I almost feel buoyant.
Lifted and carried and light as a feather.
I want to boast in my God.
He is life and breath to me. My Savior and Redeemer. The One that lifts my weary head.
"Blessed be Your Name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness blessed be Your Name.
Blessed be Your Name when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be blessed be Your Name.
Every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in Lord...still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord. Blessed be Your Name."
I cannot tell you how many times I have sung that song and felt nothing at all like blessing the name of Jesus.
Hope has felt a million miles away and difficult days have numbered more than the easy ones.
Yet...I would sing it loud. Beyond what I felt.
I would sing of what I knew.
I would sing beyond the day. Beyond the present circumstances.
And some days that song would reach full volume from my voice while tears of pain and doubt stained my face.
Its just what we do.
But the past 2 weeks have been different.
Tonight that song is not only known but it is felt as well.
Now THAT is fun.
Lots of the time Jesus asks us to press through with praise. Sing it and declare it despite what you feel. Despite what you see it front of you.
And then....there are the other times. The times our hearts want to burst from joy. The times our eyes get a glimpse of God doing the impossible things.
My Caroline has done some new things lately. Formerly impossible things.
This girl is almost 13 years old.
In the past 12 days she has been able to sit (without help) in a camp chair.
She has also said her brother's name. He goes by "Zeke". Her version sounded something like "Eeekk". But still. Beautiful to us.
And lastly, a few days ago she sipped liquid up through a straw.
Y'all.
I could just come unglued.
These little things might as well be mountains to us.
I have been a picture-taking and videoing fool.
Unashamed I might add.
These past 2 weeks hope of the new has painted a new canvas for us. Colors I have never seen have suddenly appeared and my soul can hardly stand it.
Hope is a gorgeous view.
Limitless possibilities with a God that delights to bless His children.
Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His holy Name.
Sing like never before.
Oh my soul.
I worship His holy Name.
Tomorrow the skies of blue may darken to monotonous gray once again.
Days may stretch into weeks and months and years.
Hardship and difficulty will no doubt knock upon my door.
But today....the colors are vibrant. These weeks have refreshed my faith. I almost feel buoyant.
Lifted and carried and light as a feather.
I want to boast in my God.
He is life and breath to me. My Savior and Redeemer. The One that lifts my weary head.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Revisit the Scene
To this day my husband does not like to go back to the hospital where Caroline was born.
The sights, sounds, and smells take him back to a very hard day.
That day, her birthday, changed us forever.
Chaos took the place of calm. What should have been a glorious celebration turned into a day of shock, fear, and change.
In the process of her birth Shep almost lost both of us.
So any normal person can understand his angst over going back there.
For me it is different.
I kind of like going back. It provides a surreal even euphoric kind of therapy. I can remember how it felt to walk in the hospital with butterflies dancing in my tummy. Fear was mixed with determined joy over giving birth and becoming a mom. The days and weeks and months that followed became a friend to me. Time was the only thing that helped me get through the day. Time didn't judge or push. It just stayed with me. It passed.
No friend or family member could really understand what I was experiencing. Honestly...I didn't either.
I just knew that my life would never be the same.
The walls, sounds, and smells became my company. Odd I am sure. But they were stable and sure. That hospital was the setting that God used to shape and mold me.
Day after day I would sit in the NICU and learn. The zombie state I was in began to wake up to the dreaded newness. I learned to not fear the machines and the beeps. I began to embrace a level of hard that I thought would never be possible. Courage and strength were there even though I barely recognized what they looked like.
Going back there reminds me of a loss and a gain.
All of it hard. None of it wanted.
But it is there just the same.
What I gained in those passing days was an awakening.
The loss of what I had expected birthed a sprout of hope.
Although Jesus had saved me I had never really needed his help for much else.
Now hope was essential to living.
The promise of His help was my only hope.
Almost 13 years later I sit here with some perspective.
God has been faithful each and every moment of every single day since.
Revisiting those days spark new appreciation for who I was before and who God is making me into now.
Today is also Good Friday.
I hate thinking about this day. But something in me needs to revisit it.
I need to go there in my mind and picture the reality of that day.
God's Word gives us 4 gospels that depict the scene and the surroundings.
I imagine dust in the air. Shouts of buyers and sellers in the street. Quiet tears on the followers of Jesus as they stand a respectable distance away. Crucifixions were not uncommon. But this one would be.
Creation knew that its creator was doing the unthinkable. He was becoming a servant to the very ones He delighted to create. He was dying for what they had done. Innocence and restrained power hung on a cross. The nails held his flesh but unparalleled love held his heart.
The words on the page don't seem to do it justice sometimes.
My Jesus suffered so.
He was mocked, spit upon, beaten in the head with a stick, and cursed. He was flogged with a lead-tipped whip. Long, sharp thorns were shoved into his skull. He was naked and forced to carry my burden. He willingly went to the place of death and laid down upon the wood. He offered his hands and feet to be nailed down.
For me.
For you.
The scene is so brutal and gruesome. The picture is so bleak and depressing. Such a loss.
Yet....such a gain.
Death bought my life.
His death gives me hope. Hope that I cling to now...2000 years later.
Revisit the scene.
Appreciate the pain.
See the hope that was born from such loss.
And remember....Sunday is coming!!
"Then Jesus shouted out again, and he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain in the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened." Matthew 27:50
The sights, sounds, and smells take him back to a very hard day.
That day, her birthday, changed us forever.
Chaos took the place of calm. What should have been a glorious celebration turned into a day of shock, fear, and change.
In the process of her birth Shep almost lost both of us.
So any normal person can understand his angst over going back there.
For me it is different.
I kind of like going back. It provides a surreal even euphoric kind of therapy. I can remember how it felt to walk in the hospital with butterflies dancing in my tummy. Fear was mixed with determined joy over giving birth and becoming a mom. The days and weeks and months that followed became a friend to me. Time was the only thing that helped me get through the day. Time didn't judge or push. It just stayed with me. It passed.
No friend or family member could really understand what I was experiencing. Honestly...I didn't either.
I just knew that my life would never be the same.
The walls, sounds, and smells became my company. Odd I am sure. But they were stable and sure. That hospital was the setting that God used to shape and mold me.
Day after day I would sit in the NICU and learn. The zombie state I was in began to wake up to the dreaded newness. I learned to not fear the machines and the beeps. I began to embrace a level of hard that I thought would never be possible. Courage and strength were there even though I barely recognized what they looked like.
Going back there reminds me of a loss and a gain.
All of it hard. None of it wanted.
But it is there just the same.
What I gained in those passing days was an awakening.
The loss of what I had expected birthed a sprout of hope.
Although Jesus had saved me I had never really needed his help for much else.
Now hope was essential to living.
The promise of His help was my only hope.
Almost 13 years later I sit here with some perspective.
God has been faithful each and every moment of every single day since.
Revisiting those days spark new appreciation for who I was before and who God is making me into now.
Today is also Good Friday.
I hate thinking about this day. But something in me needs to revisit it.
I need to go there in my mind and picture the reality of that day.
God's Word gives us 4 gospels that depict the scene and the surroundings.
I imagine dust in the air. Shouts of buyers and sellers in the street. Quiet tears on the followers of Jesus as they stand a respectable distance away. Crucifixions were not uncommon. But this one would be.
Creation knew that its creator was doing the unthinkable. He was becoming a servant to the very ones He delighted to create. He was dying for what they had done. Innocence and restrained power hung on a cross. The nails held his flesh but unparalleled love held his heart.
The words on the page don't seem to do it justice sometimes.
My Jesus suffered so.
He was mocked, spit upon, beaten in the head with a stick, and cursed. He was flogged with a lead-tipped whip. Long, sharp thorns were shoved into his skull. He was naked and forced to carry my burden. He willingly went to the place of death and laid down upon the wood. He offered his hands and feet to be nailed down.
For me.
For you.
The scene is so brutal and gruesome. The picture is so bleak and depressing. Such a loss.
Yet....such a gain.
Death bought my life.
His death gives me hope. Hope that I cling to now...2000 years later.
Revisit the scene.
Appreciate the pain.
See the hope that was born from such loss.
And remember....Sunday is coming!!
"Then Jesus shouted out again, and he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain in the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened." Matthew 27:50
Monday, March 23, 2015
LOVE....the hardest thing
So many thoughts swirl in my head this morning.
~I need potatoes, bread, and a few other essentials from the store.
~There is a friend's birthday this week that I cannot forget!
~Wash the load of laundry that has been sitting in the washer all weekend.
~There are several hand written notes that need to be finished today.
~We have soccer and ballet tonight.
~Water the indoor plants.
~Why is LOVE so hard? Impossible even.
Last night I sat in a room full of precious and typical 8th-12th grade girls.
I wish I could say that there was rousing conversation.
Truthfully the room was unusually quiet.
Our topic was LOVE.
Not the love we like to talk about for hours.
It was God's version of love.
Hard stuff.
We cracked open 1 Corinthians 13 and began listening to God's instructions to us about how we show love.
The list is flat out impossible.
Patient. Kind. Not proud, boastful, or rude. Keeps no record of wrongs. Does not demand its own way. It is not irritable.
These are just a few of the characteristics of God's version of love.
Honestly....I don't make it past patient.
God's love for us is such a gift.
I doubt many of us really fathom the depth of it. I know I don't.
On my worst most wicked day~ HE is crazy about me. He is for me. His thoughts toward me out number the grains of sand on all the beaches in all the world.
How on earth can we comprehend such love?
But our comprehension or lack thereof doesn't change the truth of it. He loves us. Mind-blowing crazy loves us.
We could talk of this all day long. Am I right?
It's what He asks of us that makes us hugely uncomfortable.
Silence hangs in the air because not only can we NOT do it on our own. We don't even WANT to do it.
Listen to the words of Luke. He is challenging us to be so utterly different from those around us. The world would be in awe if we really lived this out....
"But if you are willing to listen, I say, love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Pray for the happiness of those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you. If someone slaps you on the cheek, turn the other cheek. If someone demands your coat, offer your shirt also. Give what you have to anyone who asks you for it; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. Do for others as you would like them to do for you.
Do you think you deserve credit merely for loving those who love you? Even the sinners do that! And if you do good only to those who do good to you, is that so wonderful? Even sinners do that much! And if you lend money only to those who can repay you, what good is that? Even sinners will lend to their own kind for a full return.
Love your enemies! Do good to them!" (Luke 6:27-35)
This is essentially the gospel.
Jesus loved me when I was his enemy.
He did good for me.
He gave his life.
He knew I could never repay him.
This flies in the very face of our pride.
I want to make out a list of all of my exceptions to this rule. But God doesn't grant exceptions.
Hanging on to my grudges and bitterness makes me feel validated.
But it also diminishes my capacity to love and make any kind of difference for Jesus Christ.
So what do I want more???
I must choose.
Do I want validation or do I want to love?
Some days I choose the former and I regret the outcome. I become one raw irritated nerve that no one wants to be around. But the days that I choose the latter....there are never any regrets.
It is hard. So very hard. But right.
Love is the greatest (and hardest) thing.
My middle little turned 10 years old last week. I am well aware of the years that lay ahead of her. Middle and high school can be brutal. Girls haven't stopped being mean and I remember it well.
However if she can KNOW the depth of God's love for her....
Then loving others is a real possibility.
I pray she is far ahead of where I was at her age.
If someone was mean to me...I was mean back.
If someone talked bad about me....I couldn't wait to return the favor.
What if I had been different?
Who knows?
Although I think she is the prettiest 10 year old I know....I want her to be pretty on the inside.
That, my friends, takes A LOT of character building.
Think about what built your character the most.
For me....it was the hard lessons.
Being left out made me understand rejection. Getting hurt helped me gain compassion. Walking alone helped me appreciate real friends.
I don't want her to suffer rejection, pain, loss, betrayal, and meanness. But I do want her to be kind, compassionate, grateful and generous.
She may have to feel the sting of pain to gain what I cannot teach her.
God help me to love others. Especially my enemies. To do good to those who hate me. To pray for those who curse me. To turn the cheek that has been slapped and offer the other as well.
This is love. It speaks when nothing else will.
She will learn by watching what I do and how I live. Not what I say...
Oh God ~ help me.
~I need potatoes, bread, and a few other essentials from the store.
~There is a friend's birthday this week that I cannot forget!
~Wash the load of laundry that has been sitting in the washer all weekend.
~There are several hand written notes that need to be finished today.
~We have soccer and ballet tonight.
~Water the indoor plants.
~Why is LOVE so hard? Impossible even.
Last night I sat in a room full of precious and typical 8th-12th grade girls.
I wish I could say that there was rousing conversation.
Truthfully the room was unusually quiet.
Our topic was LOVE.
Not the love we like to talk about for hours.
It was God's version of love.
Hard stuff.
We cracked open 1 Corinthians 13 and began listening to God's instructions to us about how we show love.
The list is flat out impossible.
Patient. Kind. Not proud, boastful, or rude. Keeps no record of wrongs. Does not demand its own way. It is not irritable.
These are just a few of the characteristics of God's version of love.
Honestly....I don't make it past patient.
God's love for us is such a gift.
I doubt many of us really fathom the depth of it. I know I don't.
On my worst most wicked day~ HE is crazy about me. He is for me. His thoughts toward me out number the grains of sand on all the beaches in all the world.
How on earth can we comprehend such love?
But our comprehension or lack thereof doesn't change the truth of it. He loves us. Mind-blowing crazy loves us.
We could talk of this all day long. Am I right?
It's what He asks of us that makes us hugely uncomfortable.
Silence hangs in the air because not only can we NOT do it on our own. We don't even WANT to do it.
Listen to the words of Luke. He is challenging us to be so utterly different from those around us. The world would be in awe if we really lived this out....
"But if you are willing to listen, I say, love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Pray for the happiness of those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you. If someone slaps you on the cheek, turn the other cheek. If someone demands your coat, offer your shirt also. Give what you have to anyone who asks you for it; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. Do for others as you would like them to do for you.
Do you think you deserve credit merely for loving those who love you? Even the sinners do that! And if you do good only to those who do good to you, is that so wonderful? Even sinners do that much! And if you lend money only to those who can repay you, what good is that? Even sinners will lend to their own kind for a full return.
Love your enemies! Do good to them!" (Luke 6:27-35)
This is essentially the gospel.
Jesus loved me when I was his enemy.
He did good for me.
He gave his life.
He knew I could never repay him.
This flies in the very face of our pride.
I want to make out a list of all of my exceptions to this rule. But God doesn't grant exceptions.
Hanging on to my grudges and bitterness makes me feel validated.
But it also diminishes my capacity to love and make any kind of difference for Jesus Christ.
So what do I want more???
I must choose.
Do I want validation or do I want to love?
Some days I choose the former and I regret the outcome. I become one raw irritated nerve that no one wants to be around. But the days that I choose the latter....there are never any regrets.
It is hard. So very hard. But right.
Love is the greatest (and hardest) thing.
My middle little turned 10 years old last week. I am well aware of the years that lay ahead of her. Middle and high school can be brutal. Girls haven't stopped being mean and I remember it well.
However if she can KNOW the depth of God's love for her....
Then loving others is a real possibility.
I pray she is far ahead of where I was at her age.
If someone was mean to me...I was mean back.
If someone talked bad about me....I couldn't wait to return the favor.
What if I had been different?
Who knows?
Although I think she is the prettiest 10 year old I know....I want her to be pretty on the inside.
That, my friends, takes A LOT of character building.
Think about what built your character the most.
For me....it was the hard lessons.
Being left out made me understand rejection. Getting hurt helped me gain compassion. Walking alone helped me appreciate real friends.
I don't want her to suffer rejection, pain, loss, betrayal, and meanness. But I do want her to be kind, compassionate, grateful and generous.
She may have to feel the sting of pain to gain what I cannot teach her.
God help me to love others. Especially my enemies. To do good to those who hate me. To pray for those who curse me. To turn the cheek that has been slapped and offer the other as well.
This is love. It speaks when nothing else will.
She will learn by watching what I do and how I live. Not what I say...
Oh God ~ help me.
Friday, March 6, 2015
CONTRAST
This past week a word from my devotion book took root and hasn't eased up yet.
The word is CONTRAST.
The scripture read like this, "Eli's sons were wicked men; they had no regard for the Lord...
By contrast, the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and with men." 1 Samuel 2:12, 26
Let me give you a few visuals of contrast.
These are pretty self explanatory.
But God has spoken this concept over me in a fresh way this week.
I am not sure there is a greater contrast in the life of a believer than ~love~.
Loving is easy when someone is lovable.
The world does that.
Loving is easy when everything is going your way.
The world does that.
Loving is easy as long as everyone agrees.
The world does that.
Loving is easy as long as things seem fair.
The world does that.
Now let's take this to the CONTRAST level.
Love when you are hated.
Love when you are misunderstood.
Love when you are rejected.
Love when you have been mistreated.
Love when you have been betrayed.
Love when you are angry.
Love when you have been exposed and abused.
Love hung on a cross. Naked. Exposed. Betrayed. Misunderstood. Rejected. Beaten.
He was the contrast to His culture.
We are called to be the same thing.
Distinguishably different. Marked by love. Not easy love. But hard love. Ugly. Honest. Sacrificial. Exposed. Unnoticed.
I want so badly to please Jesus with my life.
But this concept leaves me cold sometimes.
I don't mind God asking me to have faith and hope.
I understand that grace, mercy and forgiveness have to be given and received.
But love?
Love seems so personal. Love seems too valuable to just throw it out there on people who don't seem to want it or even appreciate it.
Love is precious. Reserved for those most dear to me.
Love awakens to me to care and see folks as God sees them.
So basically the most important trait to making a difference in this world for Jesus is the one trait I resist.
Not just resist.
I rebel from it.
It infuriates me to love the people that I deem unworthy.
So I am actually not being a contrast at all.
I just keep doing the easy thing.
Loving those that are easy to love.
The conviction of God gently revealed this to me. I was so shamed at how I am more like the world than I want to admit. I can boast about faith in God all day long. I can talk about ministering to people on mission trips and through my volunteering...but when love for difficult people is absent.....I am just like every one else.
O God help me be distinguishably different. A stand out for your cause. Love brought you to this world. Love took you to the cross. Love raised you from the dead. Love is the basis for all you do. Make me like you Lord. Change my heart.
The word is CONTRAST.
The scripture read like this, "Eli's sons were wicked men; they had no regard for the Lord...
By contrast, the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and with men." 1 Samuel 2:12, 26
Let me give you a few visuals of contrast.
These are pretty self explanatory.
But God has spoken this concept over me in a fresh way this week.
I am not sure there is a greater contrast in the life of a believer than ~love~.
Loving is easy when someone is lovable.
The world does that.
Loving is easy when everything is going your way.
The world does that.
Loving is easy as long as everyone agrees.
The world does that.
Loving is easy as long as things seem fair.
The world does that.
Now let's take this to the CONTRAST level.
Love when you are hated.
Love when you are misunderstood.
Love when you are rejected.
Love when you have been mistreated.
Love when you have been betrayed.
Love when you are angry.
Love when you have been exposed and abused.
Love hung on a cross. Naked. Exposed. Betrayed. Misunderstood. Rejected. Beaten.
He was the contrast to His culture.
We are called to be the same thing.
Distinguishably different. Marked by love. Not easy love. But hard love. Ugly. Honest. Sacrificial. Exposed. Unnoticed.
I want so badly to please Jesus with my life.
But this concept leaves me cold sometimes.
I don't mind God asking me to have faith and hope.
I understand that grace, mercy and forgiveness have to be given and received.
But love?
Love seems so personal. Love seems too valuable to just throw it out there on people who don't seem to want it or even appreciate it.
Love is precious. Reserved for those most dear to me.
Love awakens to me to care and see folks as God sees them.
So basically the most important trait to making a difference in this world for Jesus is the one trait I resist.
Not just resist.
I rebel from it.
It infuriates me to love the people that I deem unworthy.
So I am actually not being a contrast at all.
I just keep doing the easy thing.
Loving those that are easy to love.
The conviction of God gently revealed this to me. I was so shamed at how I am more like the world than I want to admit. I can boast about faith in God all day long. I can talk about ministering to people on mission trips and through my volunteering...but when love for difficult people is absent.....I am just like every one else.
O God help me be distinguishably different. A stand out for your cause. Love brought you to this world. Love took you to the cross. Love raised you from the dead. Love is the basis for all you do. Make me like you Lord. Change my heart.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Turn Us Again
The verse is repeated 3 times in Psalm 80.
"Turn us to yourself, O God.
Make your face shine down upon us.
Only then will we be saved."
Why is turning so hard?
I think the answer is as simple as, "we want it our own way."
Sometimes when we can't seem to turn ourselves we have to ask for help.
There is One that aches to turn his child home.
I am not a typical prodigal child. I haven't left my husband or kids and gone out in search of fun. But my heart tends to wander away a lot.
I want to squander the riches of His grace for instant ease.
I want to enjoy revenge on someone rather than seek mercy instead.
I want to please myself with over indulgences rather than exercise mindful self control.
I want to let my pride win over all rather than humbling myself before my Savior and my God.
See?
From the outside I am rather put together.
But this heart of mine must be kept in check.
It must constantly be turned to Jesus or it will run amuck.
I love that over and over and over again He doesn't mind turning us around.
Even if He has done it a thousand times before. He never tolerates us. He never tires of hearing a child utter this plea, "Turn me again, Lord."
This verse doesn't stop there.
The writer shamelessly asks for more.
Once turned.....we get to ask Him to shine down upon us.
And get this. HE DOES.
He takes His glorious presence and shines it down upon a child just previously turned away from him.
His tenderness shames me.
(I usually need a block of time away from my kids when they have been purposely disobedient.)
But not our God.
He rushes in.
His presence does something for our souls that nothing else can. It SATISFIES.
And the last part of this verse is beautifully summed up with these words, "only then will we be saved."
Only then....
Salvation must begin with an turning.
If we can't turn ourselves....He will turn us.
It ends with a glorious saving.
I turned to Jesus at 9 years old. He sealed me with His Presence and saved me with His grace.
I turned to Jesus again this morning at 37 years old. My heart wanted to go its own way today. I confessed that to Him. I brought it all before Him. My hurt. My weariness. My fear. My anger. My questions. My gratitude. My blessings. I let Him turn me once again. He may have to do it again before lunchtime. But He delights to turn me~ His child. I felt the joy of His presence when I relinquished control. Saved again...from myself.
"Turn us to yourself, O God.
Make your face shine down upon us.
Only then will we be saved."
Why is turning so hard?
I think the answer is as simple as, "we want it our own way."
Sometimes when we can't seem to turn ourselves we have to ask for help.
There is One that aches to turn his child home.
I am not a typical prodigal child. I haven't left my husband or kids and gone out in search of fun. But my heart tends to wander away a lot.
I want to squander the riches of His grace for instant ease.
I want to enjoy revenge on someone rather than seek mercy instead.
I want to please myself with over indulgences rather than exercise mindful self control.
I want to let my pride win over all rather than humbling myself before my Savior and my God.
See?
From the outside I am rather put together.
But this heart of mine must be kept in check.
It must constantly be turned to Jesus or it will run amuck.
I love that over and over and over again He doesn't mind turning us around.
Even if He has done it a thousand times before. He never tolerates us. He never tires of hearing a child utter this plea, "Turn me again, Lord."
This verse doesn't stop there.
The writer shamelessly asks for more.
Once turned.....we get to ask Him to shine down upon us.
And get this. HE DOES.
He takes His glorious presence and shines it down upon a child just previously turned away from him.
His tenderness shames me.
(I usually need a block of time away from my kids when they have been purposely disobedient.)
But not our God.
He rushes in.
His presence does something for our souls that nothing else can. It SATISFIES.
And the last part of this verse is beautifully summed up with these words, "only then will we be saved."
Only then....
Salvation must begin with an turning.
If we can't turn ourselves....He will turn us.
It ends with a glorious saving.
I turned to Jesus at 9 years old. He sealed me with His Presence and saved me with His grace.
I turned to Jesus again this morning at 37 years old. My heart wanted to go its own way today. I confessed that to Him. I brought it all before Him. My hurt. My weariness. My fear. My anger. My questions. My gratitude. My blessings. I let Him turn me once again. He may have to do it again before lunchtime. But He delights to turn me~ His child. I felt the joy of His presence when I relinquished control. Saved again...from myself.
Monday, February 2, 2015
the joy of Others
(This post was written over a week ago. Somehow Blogger never posted it)
Anyone else sick of yourself?
I so wish I could see a show of hands.
Both of my arms would be waving madly in the air with the declaration that I am sick of me.
My life is nuts. This week alone my dog has peed numerous times in the house; not to mention at 5:30 in the morning on top of my somewhat new bedspread. The re is a bruise the size of Texas on my thigh where I ran smack into my son's bed post. I have washed too many sheets and pillow cases to count due to random nose bleeds AND today we got the official word that we will be having to purchase a new washing machine. Oh and I am pretty sure I only cooked dinner for my family one time this week.
I am guessing that my week may not look that different from yours.
This is life.
Messy. Chaotic. Unexpected.
Thankfully Jesus meets us right in the grind of it all. He speaks in our whirlwind.
Thursday morning I walked into the bible study room late because I had gotten to the church at my early normal time only to discover that I had left the dvd's at home. So I hurried home and got the dvds and drove back to the church. I was frazzled and distracted and aggravated at myself.
Not the best way to lead a ladies bible study group.
As Kelly Minter taught us I knew God was powerfully speaking to me.
God came into our presence and reminded us all of a wonderful gift that He has given us: each other.
1 John 1:7 says, "But if we are living in the light of God's presence, just as Christ is, then we have fellowship with each other, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, cleanses us from every sin."
Fellowship is a real thing. It is a beautiful thing.
My heart thrills at knowing that Jesus Christ loves me no matter what.
But there is something almost equally as thrilling to look over and see others that are willing to enter into our mess and stand shoulder to shoulder with us. They willingly choose to scale our mountains of fear, thirst along with us in the deserts, and rest beside us in the valleys.
These are our others.
They bring such joy.
They bear our burdens.
They are longsuffering with us.
They serve us with good intentions.
Their very presence offers us resolve and strengthened faith.
They speak truth when it isn't what we want to hear.
They pray hard and love harder.
They don't give up even when we want to.
They forgive us before we even ask.
They sit and listen to our rants...over and over.
When our heart is broken...they ache too.
When our dreams come true...they rejoice.
When we overcome something hard...they cheer the loudest.
Jesus wanted us to have this fellowship with others because living the Christian life is hard.
Fellowship brings joy to the journey.
I can't help but notice that many people that claim to know Jesus have little to no real fellowship with others.
It requires authenticity and vulnerability.
Something as fabulous as fellowship isn't cheaply attained. It does cost us something.
We must be real.
Our struggles give such validation to the power of Christ working in our lives. Yet so few of us actually want to discuss them.
I have been hugely blessed whenever I have been open with people about my issues.
It turns out that lots of other ladies struggle with anger, jealousy, self-control, meanness, pride, the love of the world, lusts of the flesh and insecurity.
The struggle is life.
Confessing our struggle helps us stay in the fight.
My inner Rocky kicks in when I know that I have sisters struggling and fighting in the faith too.
Fellowship.
It envelops everything that is real. The only thing about ourselves that isn't welcome in fellowship is being fake.
Sisters...let's strive together in fellowship. We are daughters of the King. We bear scars of battles fought and others can learn from our wins and defeats.
Could we courageously enter into fellowship with believers around us?
Could we listen with spiritual ears to someone who may desperately need to hear our story?
How differently would the body of Christ be if our burdens were shouldered by linked arms and determined hearts?
"But if we are living in the light of God's presence, just as Christ is, then we have FELLOWSHIP with EACH OTHER, and the blood of Jesus, His Son, cleanses us from every sin." 1 John 1:7
Anyone else sick of yourself?
I so wish I could see a show of hands.
Both of my arms would be waving madly in the air with the declaration that I am sick of me.
My life is nuts. This week alone my dog has peed numerous times in the house; not to mention at 5:30 in the morning on top of my somewhat new bedspread. The re is a bruise the size of Texas on my thigh where I ran smack into my son's bed post. I have washed too many sheets and pillow cases to count due to random nose bleeds AND today we got the official word that we will be having to purchase a new washing machine. Oh and I am pretty sure I only cooked dinner for my family one time this week.
I am guessing that my week may not look that different from yours.
This is life.
Messy. Chaotic. Unexpected.
Thankfully Jesus meets us right in the grind of it all. He speaks in our whirlwind.
Thursday morning I walked into the bible study room late because I had gotten to the church at my early normal time only to discover that I had left the dvd's at home. So I hurried home and got the dvds and drove back to the church. I was frazzled and distracted and aggravated at myself.
Not the best way to lead a ladies bible study group.
As Kelly Minter taught us I knew God was powerfully speaking to me.
God came into our presence and reminded us all of a wonderful gift that He has given us: each other.
1 John 1:7 says, "But if we are living in the light of God's presence, just as Christ is, then we have fellowship with each other, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, cleanses us from every sin."
Fellowship is a real thing. It is a beautiful thing.
My heart thrills at knowing that Jesus Christ loves me no matter what.
But there is something almost equally as thrilling to look over and see others that are willing to enter into our mess and stand shoulder to shoulder with us. They willingly choose to scale our mountains of fear, thirst along with us in the deserts, and rest beside us in the valleys.
These are our others.
They bring such joy.
They bear our burdens.
They are longsuffering with us.
They serve us with good intentions.
Their very presence offers us resolve and strengthened faith.
They speak truth when it isn't what we want to hear.
They pray hard and love harder.
They don't give up even when we want to.
They forgive us before we even ask.
They sit and listen to our rants...over and over.
When our heart is broken...they ache too.
When our dreams come true...they rejoice.
When we overcome something hard...they cheer the loudest.
Jesus wanted us to have this fellowship with others because living the Christian life is hard.
Fellowship brings joy to the journey.
I can't help but notice that many people that claim to know Jesus have little to no real fellowship with others.
It requires authenticity and vulnerability.
Something as fabulous as fellowship isn't cheaply attained. It does cost us something.
We must be real.
Our struggles give such validation to the power of Christ working in our lives. Yet so few of us actually want to discuss them.
I have been hugely blessed whenever I have been open with people about my issues.
It turns out that lots of other ladies struggle with anger, jealousy, self-control, meanness, pride, the love of the world, lusts of the flesh and insecurity.
The struggle is life.
Confessing our struggle helps us stay in the fight.
My inner Rocky kicks in when I know that I have sisters struggling and fighting in the faith too.
Fellowship.
It envelops everything that is real. The only thing about ourselves that isn't welcome in fellowship is being fake.
Sisters...let's strive together in fellowship. We are daughters of the King. We bear scars of battles fought and others can learn from our wins and defeats.
Could we courageously enter into fellowship with believers around us?
Could we listen with spiritual ears to someone who may desperately need to hear our story?
How differently would the body of Christ be if our burdens were shouldered by linked arms and determined hearts?
"But if we are living in the light of God's presence, just as Christ is, then we have FELLOWSHIP with EACH OTHER, and the blood of Jesus, His Son, cleanses us from every sin." 1 John 1:7
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