Category Archives: Community

Unexpected blooms

I do not have a green thumb whatsoever, but wish I did.

Every spring, my husband and children give me a potted Easter lily. In the beginning, I enjoyed them until they died from a lack of water (my bad) in the foil-lined plastic pot with a large ribbon tied around it. One year, thinking I had nothing to lose, I planted the lily. Five years later, I continue to plant my special gifts with fingers crossed.

Nearby, I wanted to spruce up a small corner of our yard so I planted Calalilies. Truly, if anything is going to live on our property it must be pretty much self-sufficient, drought-proof and frost-proof.

About this time every year, I am AMAZED when these little beauties pop up and show off their gorgeous colors and form.

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As I stood and stared at them today, I had a thought.

Is this what it’s like, God? Is this what happens when we put just a little work into our hearts? It’s like You take our effort and multiple it beyond measure! When I forgive someone. Ask for forgiveness. Help someone. Seek You. Decide one more time not to quit the race. Love the unlovely. Bite my tongue. Give it all over to You. Ask for wisdom. Worship You.

Salvation is not earned by works. God doesn’t love me more or less depending on my actions and words. His grace is steady. Faithful. Unwavering.

But, like with the prodigal son who decided to return home, and his father saw him far off and ran to him and prepared a banquet (Luke 15:11-31). The widow’s son collected jars for the oil that kept flowing and flowing (2 Kings 4:1-7). Moses took the first step out of Egypt (Exodus 12:31-42). Abraham packed up and moved to a place he’d never been (Genesis 12:1-9). Mary believed the angel who told her the good news of great joy about the baby inside her virgin womb (Luke 1:26-38). Peter followed Jesus even after Peter admitted his own inadequacy (Luke 5:1-11).

Just like the plants I planted in the ground, so God sees His children trying to follow Him. Our hearts, like my garden, are rich to receive Him. After all, they were made to be His temple.

A little effort in an area on our part and God runs with it to produce something beyond our wildest dreams. Our effort is our obedience.

Looking at these flowers every year, I am encouraged and challenged to keep pursuing God. To continue letting Him perform heart surgery on me, if you will, in the areas that have grown dry and hard. When I let Him til the soil, pull the weeds and cut back the overgrowth of sin, He has space to grow something beautiful that I could never imagine.

I write this today with a garden in bloom in my heart. Is my life perfect? Absolutely not. However, buds and blooms burst forth in shapes and fragrances I never knew it could by way of healed forgiveness, unexplained peace, raptured joy, and rest knowing God truly is love and is sovereign.

Some of these blooms have taken years to take root. They’ve taken A LOT of surrendering while God tilled and tilled and tilled the weeds and rocks out of my heart. It’s taken me holding my breath while He pours from heaven the grace and mercy I’ve needed for certain buds drink in to thrive.

I’ve learned, and continue to learn, that God really is trustworthy (2 Samuel 7:28). He really does work all things good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28). He really is looking over the world to see who He can encourage (2 Chronicles 16:9). He truly doesn’t forget us or our pain (Psalm 34:18). He is faithful when I’m not (Psalm 89:7-8). Loving when I can’t (Romans 5:8). Strong when I am weak (Psalm 18:2). He is good all the time – even in the midst of baddest bad (Psalm 86:15; 2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

Just like the blooms that take me by surprise each year, so does the gardening that God continues to do in my heart. Although I’ve left the lilies to fend for themselves, God has never – will never – leave me or you (Deuteronomy 31:6).

So what’s the point of all this gardening He does in our hearts?

We will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor (Isaiah 61:3) in colors and fragrances and forms we have yet to imagine. When people look at our lives they will see the hand of the loving Gardener who makes us beautiful.

 

 

 

Private thoughts of a short-term missionary

Monday morning greets me with mixed emotions. I woke up today feeling very frustrated. I have been consistently diligent in putting on the armor of God (Ephesians 6) and working with all the logic that’s in my crazy brain to get things ready for an upcoming mission trip. On paper everything looks good. But, read in between the lines and there are struggles and doubts and frustrations that eat away at my thoughts.

I am grateful for the Proverbs 31 Ministry’s devotions that appear in my inbox every day. Today, it’s like Lysa Terkeurst read my heart. Her words speak more clearly than mine as I sit here tired and sick. Here is an excerpt from her devotion, “When God’s Assignments Feel Almost Impossible”

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I pulled into my driveway and stared at this gathering place my people call “home.” And my heart whispered …

Lord, am I doing all of this right?

This life You’ve entrusted to me, these people You’ve entrusted to me, this calling You’ve entrusted to me … I desperately want to get it right. To live without painful regret gnawing deep within. To know that I gave it my very best. To please You. Love them. Smile more than frowning. Laugh more than I complain. See the beauty tucked within all these sacred moments of just being together and remember to whisper, Thank You.

Thank You for all of it. The whole package deal of good and bad and highs and lows. For all that mixed together sets about a process of making me. The me that needs the tough stuff to mature me. The sad moments to soften me. The thrilling moments to invigorate me. The poignant moments to endear me. The complicated moments to challenge me. The quiet moments to unrush me.

I need it all.

But sometimes, in the midst of all the moments that are making me into the woman You created me to be, I get awfully tired and discouraged.

And I find myself sitting in my driveway wondering. Staring at the culmination of thousands of decisions I’ve made that have brought me here. To this home. This family. This life. I made my decisions and then my decisions made me.

I’m thankful, yes. So very thankful. But I need You to whisper reassurance into my heart that You’re with me. That You see me. And that You are pleased with me. I just need to know, Lord, am I doing this right?

Jesus instructed us to “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation,” (Mark 16:15). That seems an impossible task for someone who sits in her driveway and feels fragile and wonders all the things I sometimes wonder.

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Fragile indeed. I told Bruce the other day that I wrestle with opposite dichotomies warring within:

* Continue to pursue short-term global and local missions as long as God allows and I am physically able.

* Sell it all and move to a distant land to serve full-time.

* Move to a tropical island and forget everything (just kidding, sort of!).

I feel like a nomad. When I am home doing the suburban housewife and mom thing, my heart is restless even though serving my family sometimes takes everything in me! When I am serving abroad, I reach a tipping point where I need normalcy and a sense of home. When I serve locally, I feel I am not doing enough. It makes my heart spin.

Yesterday I had a conversation with one of my favorite people. She is the mother-in-law of one of my dearest friends and she turns 80 this month. I just love talking with her! Her mind is sharp as a tack and conversations with her are thought-provoking and always entertaining.

She’s been through some major unexpected illnesses lately that have left her fragile, frail and in spinal therapy. Her already tiny frame of less than 5 feet is now curled over and even thinner than she was before. She asked me all kinds of questions about our mission trip as she has always had a keen interest in them. Once we talked through the logistics of the trip, she turned the conversation to why we go.

She asked questions that she really wanted sincere answers to. Questions like – You feel this is right for your family? And you enjoy this? Do the kids enjoy it? What do they get out of if? How long do you think you will continue to do these mission trips?

I answered each question with a thoughtful answer: For now, this is what God has called our family to. Everyone has a purpose, and we believe this is ours. Yes, we enjoy it very much. It’s the hardest, most demanding thing we’ve ever done (besides parenting) and it’s worth every drop of blood, sweat and tear. The kids love it! Mission trips are great to strip away the entitlement and materialism that our society imposes and encourages. Although our children don’t have overt problems with these anyway, still if we live in a society long enough its way of thinking creeps into our thoughts as being normal. These missions remind them that the world doesn’t revolve around them and that’s a good and necessary truth to know. More importantly, it’s training them to share the Gospel whenever, wherever God leads. We will go as long as the Lord allows and we are physically able.

To every answer she smiled, nodded her head and replied, Okay. Alright. However, she paused at my last answer about being physically able. As we stood in the kitchen, she asked if I wanted a piece of cake and I said yes. She carefully, slowly, struggled to cut and serve it to me, but I knew I needed to let her do it. It was a beautiful moment. I felt God whisper, She needs to do this. Let her. As she worked on the slice of cake, she said, You know, one day you have your health and then the next day you don’t. It’s taken away without warning. I never thought I would go through what I’ve been through, and getting back to where I was is a great struggle. Do what you can while you can do it. Enjoy life. Go on these mission trips. Do it all before you no longer can. Wise words which brought a tear to my eye as I bent over to hear her talk above the white noise in the crowded room of her grandson’s graduation party.

I’ve told Bruce this before. We were walking through Wal-Mart one day and I said, You know, it would only take one car accident. One illness. One life change that could keep one of us from ever being able to go on mission again. Life is fragile. Health is fragile although no one wants to admit it out loud. It’s partially this thought that makes me second guess if I really am doing what God purposed for me in Psalm 139:16 –

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

This is where Lysa Terkeurst and I share the same wonderings and ponderings. Are we getting it right?

Do I feel restless here because we are supposed to be there? Do I miss home there because we are supposed to be here? It’s maddening, really.

Life is so so short. As proactive and intentional as I have been about preserving my body specifically for ministry with all of the surgeries, procedures and physical therapy I’ve had since 2008, I can’t figure out how to stop time. It marches on and takes no prisoners. At the end of my life, whether that be in a year or 40+, I yearn for no regrets – not that I checked off everything on my bucket list, but that I checked off everything on God’s bucket for me. I desperately want to please Him even when human nature screams otherwise. I am starving for Isaiah 30:21 to be read over my life –

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.‘

My job is to reject my idols and images and run with passion in the direction He leads (v 22). This is much easier said than done. But, when I think about my dear friend who is struggling just to once again stand erect after her physical struggles, I hear a clock ticking in my head and heart. So I write openly on a blog what I’ve been praying in my heart, in a thousand different ways for a long time, that which Psalm 139:23-24 sums up best –

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

Lead on, God. I will follow You all the way home no matter where the journey takes me to get there.

 

The relationship of lifelong love

I often see the same senior couple walking when I exercise. What strikes me about them is that they are always holding hands. Not just a loose touch, but a firm grip on one another. I am captivated and curious as to why.

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This particular morning was no different. There they were, walking without words, yet holding one another. As my dog and I trailed at a distance on the same familiar path, I watched them and wondered, Why the tight grasp?

I’ve thought all along that what makes this couple hold each other’s hands so tightly was their lifelong love for each other. Hopefully so, but there is something more so subtle that if I blinked I would’ve missed it.

It isn’t only because they want to – they need to.

As they walked, each took their turn ever-so-slightly losing their balance. Time and again, I watched as one of them began to lose their footing, the other one pulled them into their side for support through the strong grasp of their hand.

It was beautiful.

This husband and wife know a truth many marriages never learn. They not only want each other, they need each other. They not only need each other, they want each other.

Too often, marriages side with one or the other: I want you, but I don’t need you. Or, I need you, but I don’t want you. In either case, the relationship is doomed to stand the valleys and victories of life.

If a marriage is based solely on wanting each other, what happens when those wants change as time passes and we change with it?

Or, what if we need each other without wanting each other? This is more of a business partnership than a marriage. People use each other up until there is nothing left.

What I saw this morning was the idea that it’s both – want and need. Not out of selfish gain, but of selfless giving. Their actions gave new meaning to the vow, To have and to hold from this day forth…

That’s a vow, and a hand, worth holding on to.

 

 

Grateful

I just have to give a shout out to God for what He did yesterday. You know, so many times in life Plan A turns to Plan B, etc. until I feel we live somewhere between Plans X and Y. Walking these unexpected paths, we learn great lessons of patience, faith and perseverance. We learn to be flexible. Gracious. Selfless. We learn to seek God’s joy amid the stress and sadness of life. It’s really okay that Plan A is oftentimes nothing more than a faint mirage of an oasis always a fingertip out of reach.

However, yesterday God intervened and I am grateful. So grateful that I want to tell the world about it!

After a week’s worth of waiting (a lifetime actually), finally an important appointment would commence in exactly one hour. I scurried through Wal Mart for the items I needed, then I was out the door and happily on my way to my appointment.

It was a bit of a drive, but I had just enough time to make it barring nothing unforeseen would happen (foreshadow).

My van was baking hot, and my legs burned against the seat as I sat and tried to decide which way would be quicker to exit the parking lot. It was a draw, so I turned right to circle back up the next lane toward the light.

As I pulled into the aisle, a woman in her car began to back out. Surely she saw me smack behind her. Nope. She kept coming.

I watched, as if in slow motion, her car reversing toward mine. It was as though time stood still and I was helpless to do anything but lay on the horn.

Two women looked up at my obnoxious horn, and the three of us watched the woman continue to reverse. I was caught in traffic and couldn’t move. I was at her mercy…or was I?

My first thought was, “Great. Now I’m going to be involved in an accident and I can’t make my appointment – the one I’ve waited a week for!”

My next thought was, “Our van is paid for – please don’t hit it!”

Finally, as my horn continued to blow and she continued to reverse, I prayed, “Dear God, please don’t let her hit me,” as I stared on, unable to do anything but brace for impact.

She must have come within an inch of the side of my van. Then she stopped, just like that. She was so close I have no idea how she didn’t make impact. She was so close, I had to think for a minute if I felt an impact!

Never have I seen a near miss like this. Immediately, I prayed again, “Thank You, thank You, thank You Lord!”

It was odd to drive away like nothing happened, but in fact, nothing happened (except my nerves were shot!). I so appreciated that God stopped her car a centimeter short of an accident. I am thankful I made my appointment and that no one was hurt. I am thankful my van is in tact.

This may have been a blip on the day’s radar, but to me, it was an answered prayer. I needed no one to be hurt. I needed to be at that appointment. I needed all of sixty minutes to get there. I needed my van not get hit.

There are days when thing after thing derails plans. Other days plans don’t even have a chance to get made before chaos ensues. I am slowly learning to value the disruptions of life and their bigger purpose in my life.

But boy am I grateful for a day when God’s mercy lets Plan A unfold.

You’ve got my attention

For a few days now, I have noticed a huge blimp flying over my neck of the woods advertising this and that. It’s funny, I remember the visual of the blimp way more than I recall what it was promoting because, well, blimps are cool and it’s not every day we get to see one hoovering over the earth.

Last night, in an unusual evening of watching some television, my daughter and I shook our heads at what companies are doing these days to try to get us to buy their stuff. I looked at her and said, “Do they really think we are so dumb that this is all they think we’ll understand?”

I walked away from the experience of watching ridiculously watered-down, unintelligent, sexist (could they please give the men in ads half a brain??) commercials feeling frustrated and insulted. I cannot recall one single product they were selling.

Driving between cities this week on a long stretch of highway, billboards screamed at me it seemed every 10 feet. Everything one can imagine was either plastered in paper, boasted neon blinking lights or had 3D statues strung up for all to see. So sad that these overshadow the simple beauty and serenity of green landscapes of trees, cow fields, and farms.

In the midst of so much visual clutter, there was someone in pursuit of my attention for the past week. He wasn’t selling anything. He wasn’t trying to manipulate my emotions, compulsions or cravings. He didn’t set me up to believe a mirage of quick fixes. He didn’t make empty promises of fulfillment. He had a laser-focused message He wanted me to get – and get it good.

God has been incredibly intentional these past seven days to show me one truth – I am not alone.

Several days ago, there was a difficult day that I could barely muddle through. I was at the third grocery store of the day trying to gather everything we needed to host three dinners back-to-back in three days, including Easter. My oldest son and I were filing out of the store with the scores of other people shopping for their weekends when beautiful flowers caught my eye.

What is it about flowers and females? We just can’t help ourselves. We love them!

Years ago, I reconciled that is perfectly fine to buy myself flowers. I am worth it. But, this particularly hard day struck me with wave after wave of despair. I believed the lie being whispered in my ear that I, in fact, wasn’t worth it after all.

My son tried to convince me to buy them, but I didn’t. This wasn’t a pit party or woe-is-me moment, it was a seriously dark day for good reason and I couldn’t find a silver lining in the thunderous clouds looming overhead no matter how many hours I looked for it.

The very next day, my doorbell rang. I had no earthly idea who it was.

I opened the door to find one of my closest friends smiling, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers!  Her heart felt God’s tug, and out of her love for me and obedience to Him she stopped her day to bless mine.

Here is what happened the MOMENT I saw her and the bouquet. God instantly brought back the flowers I wouldn’t buy – and why I wouldn’t buy them – and He whispered to me, Yes you are worth it. 

Only God could have known.

I had been cruising along with cooking, cleaning etc, in preparation for hosting Easter weekend and had not given the flowers I saw the day before another thought. But, God was watching. He saw that, although I tried to hide my broken heart from my son, I couldn’t hide it from my Father. Oh how I love Him!

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Fast-forward a few days. I was unexpectedly involved in a helping a tragedy that left me extremely shaken. Dazed and numb, I continue to coast through the hours and days doing my daily work. Inside, I am a wreck. Flashbacks, sounds of it ringing in my ears and sights of it every time I close my eyes leaves me with an inner tremor I can’t control. It was 2 days before I could shed a single tear. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It’s only been four days and the tears keep flowing…

During this time, my husband and youngest son went to the grocery store for just a couple of things after karate lessons one night, and the sight I beheld when they walked through the door stole my heart.

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I asked my favorite middle schooler why he was giving me these gorgeous roses. He smiled real big and replied, Because I love you and for what you went through. I thought you could use some cheering up. 

I know without a doubt he loves me, and am grateful my teenage son would take the time to show me.  In my heart, I heard God tell me, I see. I know. You can trust your pain to me and I will take care of you.

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Yesterday was an ordinary morning of racing the sunrise to get everybody to where they needed to be. I stumbled into our bathroom to brush my teeth and saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I reached for it and discovered a small yellow Post-it stuck under my medicine cabinet. Then another near my make-up. And another one inside the cabinet. And still another…

Although they were unsigned, I knew exactly who they were from – my daughter. Each member of our family has distinct handwriting, and there was no doubt at all these was from her.

How did she know I needed encouragement so desperately this particular morning? She has a very giving heart and a sense of intuition beyond her high school age.  She, like my friend and my son, felt God’s tug on her heart and responded.

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Lately, stress has been high octane around here for many reasons – some completely out of our control. Like a small boat on the ocean, I feel like our family is being tossed around by ominous, bullying waves. I am seasick from it all and wake up every morning with a pit in my stomach. This pit is the first feeling of the day – not ideal. Only God knows this, and He prepared all of these love notes, with my daughter’s help, to help me exhale through the early mornings.

Does life seem to have the upper hand for you right now? Do you feel lost, tossed, tired or forgotten?

There is one God, one true God, who knows everything about your life. Talking to Him through prayer is awesome because, unlike family and friends, we never have to catch Him up. He has been in every moment. When life takes our breath away, and we feel sucker-punched, we don’t have to muster strength to relive, retell and feel everything all over again.

He knows. He sees. He cares.

Even if you have never, ever called on Him for help – He has loved you all you along, never more – never less. His love is not conditional and does not depend on our performance or lack thereof.

He. Just. Loves. You. Period.

Tap into His love today. He’s shouting it from the mountains, singing it over you while you sleep, and painting it in brilliant colors that flowers only dream of.  He is leaving love notes all over your life.  His signature is distinct, just like my daughter’s.  He is pursing you in ways that only you can deeply grasp, like my friend’s and son’s flowers.

Ask God to help you recognize His handwriting in your life. He is writing His love story on your heart to you, about you, and for you.  Take a moment and read it today. It’s amazing what His perspective can bring to our lives – truth, peace, hope and joy – even in the midst of dark days and frightening waves.

Yes, sometimes life absolutely has the upper hand. But, as a believer, I rest in complete peace knowing God’s hands are bigger and He’s got the whole world in them. He’s got you, too. Let Him carry you today.

 

What salvation looks like

As we walk through this Holy Week and approach Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, my thoughts stay on Christ and His sacrifice for us. Recently, I saw two videos I cannot get out of my heart. I watched them a few times, but couldn’t wrap my head around why I was so drawn to them.

One night, out of nowhere, I had an epiphany. These two videos are a visual picture of what Christ has done in my life.

Click here and select “Fiona’s story” (top right video in the library) and “Miley’s story” (top left video in the library – also the cover story) and watch these two short, 3.5 & 4 minute videos – warning, they are not what you may expect.

When they found Fiona, she was living in a pile of garbage in an abandoned building. Blind. Terrified. Helpless. Voiceless. Paralyzed in her circumstance. Miley was also living in garbage – literally, a garbage dump. Sick. Hurting. Weak. Dazed.

The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. Psalm 18:4-6

In each story, the rescuers were gentle and approached with care. They understood these dogs were in crisis and what they needed was immediate help. For one dog, it was food. For the other, it was being shaved and bathed to escape the unrelenting flea infestation. Both needed medical help.

Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me. Psalm 31:2 

In both cases, the rescuer went to where they were. These rescuers didn’t wait for Miley and Fiona to find them, they went looking for these precious dogs. They weren’t afraid or disgusted at where they found them. Their hearts were moved to help.

The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Psalm 116:5-6

One thing about Miley’s story that reminds me so much of God, our Redeemer, is that when Miley knew nothing else but to return to the filthy pillow among the heap of garbage, her rescuer, realizing what she was doing, kindly said, “No, no, no, no we’re not sitting down again.” He cared enough about her to know that the life she had known was not good for her. In fact, it was dangerous and led to imminent death. He knew that if she sat back down, returning to her life, it may be the last time she would ever get up.

Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits – who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. Psalm 103:2-5

His compassion for Miley was heard in his expressions about her condition.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

He offered her food from his hand. He wasn’t afraid to touch her and let her touch him.

 My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. Psalm 63:8

This rescuer personally led her out of her circumstance. He walked her out of one life and into another, better one, waiting – a life that she didn’t even know existed.

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul. Psalm 23:1-3

He didn’t mind getting messy – not him or his nice, clean car. He welcomed her into his car, and watching her circle and settle, my heart skipped a beat as it had been so long since she felt something so soft. Clean. Safe.

He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalm 91:4

 He got her the help she needed.

Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will hear their cries and comfort them. Psalm 10;17

He understood Miley was exhausted in every way, and needed time to heal and rest. She could do so knowing she was finally safe. She could let her guard down and heal.

My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He who watches over you will not slumber nor sleep; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. Psalm 121:2-3,8

He continued to feed her and care for her while she healed.

The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Psalm 9:9

The rescuer had earned her trust and forever gratitude and Miley came to a place where she could show him just how much he came to mean to her.

My lips will shout for joy when I sing praise to you— I whom you have delivered. Psalm 71:23

As her strength grew and wounds mended, the trust she gained from the relationship with her rescuer gave her confidence to comfort another dog in crisis. These two became quick friends – finding comfort and friendship birthed out of two dogs who were once alone, now bonded forever.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

For Fiona, when they realized she was blind, they let her smell them. They, also, were not too clean or too proud to go to the hard places to rescue her. Fiona sat speechless, helpless, as they reassured her by gently petting her head.

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:13-14

She was terrified. Panicked. She wanted to run away, but had nowhere to go and no sight to lead her there. The only solution was to scoop her up in their arms and carry her – away from her sightless prison of garbage and a malnutrition-ravaged world. The only world she knew.

…I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Isaiah 46:4

 They took her into their space, not caring about the fleas and whatever else could soil their clean bathroom.

Praise the Lord; praise God our savior! For each day he carries us in his arms. Our God is a God who saves! The Sovereign Lord rescues us from death. Psalm 68:19-20

They carefully shaved her matted, dirty, flea-ridden fur coat and gave her a bath that she visibly enjoyed. She was clean. So clean that who knew this grey dog was actually white!

He gives a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. Isaiah 64:3 

They got her the medical help she needed and she received sight back in one eye!  Just imagine seeing again. And, seeing a world she didn’t know existed. Beautiful. Loving. Safe.

The LORD gives sight to the blind. Psalm 146:8

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

The footage of her riding home from the vet’s looking out the window makes my heart overflow. A car ride with her rescuer. The sunlight shining on her skin and in her eyes.  Imagine what she must have been thinking. Feeling.

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you. For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the LORD in the land of the living. Psalm 116:7-9

Her rescuer fed her by hand. Not afraid or too good to touch and be touched by Fiona. They gave her a safe place to sleep. Heal. Rest.

I lie down and sleep; I awake again, because the LORD sustains me. Psalm 3:5 

Watching her run, pounce and play was so cool. Moreover, watching her rest in her rescuer’s arms, leaning against his chest in total peace and contentment, there’s nothing else like it.

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. Psalm 62:5-6

She was adopted! Never again homeless. Never again alone. Never again hungry or thirsty.

(Jesus said) “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Matthew 11:28

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Psalm 107:8-9

Combine these two stories and you’ve just watched my story of Christ’s salvation and God’s grace. As images of these dogs’ stories flash through my mind, I am reminded of where God found me and how He rescued me. I feel His mercy, love and compassion all over again. I feel His strong arms and determined heart to not abandon me. I feel His desire to call me His daughter.

All of this was only made possible through the sacrifice Christ gave for us and our sins on the cross. These dogs were victims for sure and endured terrible circumstances under life’s plight. I can relate. If your story looks like mine, where God found me was at the cost of other people’s decisions and choices, as well as being caught in the middle of circumstances beyond anyone’s control.

However, all people are guilty of sin and I came to a place where I had to own mine. Even one sin is enough for eternal separation from God. Not because God is an angry, invisible entity that sits and waits to smite us in our wrong-doing with lightning bolts and curses – getting some sick and sadistic pleasure out of watching us toil and suffer, but because He is holy. Holiness cannot share space with sin. There is a great divide between God and us, and that divide is our sin. We need a Savior.

If you can relate to Miley or Fiona, and you want to be rescued, God is looking for you. In fact, He already knows exactly where you are. He is there with you and His hand is reaching out to you. Will you take it?

Through accepting Christ as your Lord and Savior, you can be reconciled to God once and for all. Talk to God – right where you are. Whatever your life looks like. He’s not afraid to get messy. We don’t need to clean up before approaching Him. His arms are strong enough to carry you. He knows the way to life. He is life. He will never abandon you. He loves you forever and always.

Talk to God. Tell Him what’s going on. Tell Him who you believe (if you truly believe) Christ is – Savior and Lord, God’s only Son who died on a cross and rose again so we can live forever with God. Tell Him you’re sorry for the sins you’ve done. Make intentional effort to stop doing them. However, try as we might, we will all continue to sin because we’re not perfect. But God’s grace and forgiveness is a never-ending well from which we can draw from for the rest of our lives when we seek Him. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). Commit your life to God and accept Christ’s free gift of salvation. Tell Him in your own words. He’s listening.

This Easter, Miley and Fiona are beautiful visual reminders of the lengths God will go to rescue us. Christ went so far as to take on our sin for us, suffer unspeakable torture, and be heartbroken over feeling forsaken by God – all so we won’t ever have to.

Easter is so much richer than chocolate bunnies. It is so much more beautiful than colored eggs or tulips or dainty little dresses with skirts that twirl freely in circles. Easter is so much deeper than the celebration of Spring as our culture has embraced.

It is the celebration that Christ, in fact, suffered and died for us, and then rose again to prove every single last word, deed and prophecy is 100% true. He lives today and is preparing rooms in His Father’s house for all who believe.

I hope to see you there.

Questions? Feel free to ask. Questions are good. God isn’t afraid, intimidated, angered or annoyed by them. After all, He IS the answer.

“…But while (his son) was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” Luke 15:20

 

 

 

The Great Denominational Divide

I’ve wanted to write this for years, but frankly, I’ve been too apprehensive. It’s a hot topic that has divided family, friends and churches for centuries.

The denominational divide.

I’m certainly no theologian and would never try to pass as one. I steer clear of legalistic debates because most of it makes my head spin. I’m not an authoritarian on any one denomination, not even the one I am affiliated with now.

So why in the world write about this? Why step into such a sensitive topic? People can be very loyal to their denomination, if not to their specific church, so let sleeping dogs lie, right?

The denominations I have been affiliated with throughout my life have made a huge impact on me. They have been a major factor into who I am today. As much I have read over the years about churches, and all of the issues that go along with them (i.e., worship wars, service styles, pastor styles, rules and regulations, etc.), I haven’t quite read anything that sounds like my experience.

So I am going to share my story in hopes it touches someone’s heart.  Understand that this is my personal experience, and I am not saying all churches in their respective denominations are the same and function in the same way. I am not generalizing or standardizing all churches of any denomination. I am simply sharing what my experience has been in these particular churches and denominations.

As far a denominations go, I see myself as a mutt. A Heinz 57 mix.  Allow me to explain.

Southern Baptist

I was born into a Southern Baptist family and baptized as a small child. I will tell you what I remember from that night. It was an evening church service in a huge church. I wore a white robe and was immersed into baptism by the pastor. I love water in general, so being baptized in what I thought of as a small pool was the coolest thing ever.

After the service was over, I noticed a dead roach floating on its back in the baptismal. I told my mom, “Look! Even the roach got baptized!” I laughed and thought that was funny. She didn’t.

Presbyterian

My mom met her second husband in that Baptist church, and remarried when I was four years old. A few years later, our family switched our church membership to a Presbyterian church which was his preference. We attended that church from my ages of 7-12. It was a beautiful church with high, vaulted ceilings, crisp white walls and mahogany pews. The stained-glass windows that lined either side of the pews told the story of Christ. The choir wore long, white robes. The pastor spoke in a solemn tone. The service followed the bulletin exactly. Everyone in the congregation sat silent, except when singing. We sang all of the stanzas to every hymn. It always amazed me that we would sing all 4, 5 or 6 stanzas. It was very hard for me to stand still that long as an over-active child. I love that hymns took root in my heart. I developed a huge appreciation for them even as a child. In my unpredictable, stressful home, I liked knowing exactly what words to sing by reading them. It made me feel like an adult and part of the congregation.

There was a huge stained glass window behind the pastor that depicted Jesus standing at a wooden door in a garden and knocking (taken from Revelation 3:20). I had every piece of glass memorized, but never understood which door I needed to open to let Him in.

I remember the softness of the worn velvet cushion that stretched from one end of the pew to the other. I bubbled in every letter in the bulletin that I could to help me sit still. Most of all, I remember the Christmas Eve midnight, candlelight services. Those were super special! For one, I never ever got to stay up that late.  Two, it was so cool to say, “Merry Christmas!” at the stroke of midnight. And three (most of all), I got to hold a lit candle. I was a very energetic child, so trusting me to hold fire without dropping it or setting my hair ablaze was big. This was the only day of the year I was allowed to get that close to a flame.

The most important moment of every Sunday in this church for me was the benediction. I did not have a man speaking positively into my life at that time, despite the presence of my stepfather, and I craved something – anything – that would encourage, inspire or bless me. I needed a blessing to wash over me to help me endure another week of loneliness and fear. The pastor said the same benediction every week. I literally bowed my young head, closed my eyes and drank in every word. That benediction alone was a major source of comfort in a very unstable time. Everything about this church was predictable, safe and quiet which was salve to my soul like nothing else in my life at that time.

My mom’s second marriage ended, and she, my sister and I left this Presbyterian church since it was my stepfather’s preference and the divorce made it awkward.

Charismatic United Methodist

I began walking to a charismatic, United Methodist church that was three blocks from my home. Yes, there is such a thing. No, we didn’t handle snakes. Yes women wore jewelry and cut their hair and went against every stereotype of a charismatic church.  Erase all images of extreme. It was unlike any church I had ever attended. I attended this church from when I was 12 to 26 years old.  I met my husband and got married there (he was raised Episcopalian).

This church did not have the full approval from my family, although they attended sometimes and my sister and I attended the church’s school for three years.

The deeper involvement I had with this church, the more concerned my family got. They held an intervention once trying to convince me I was in a cult. I wasn’t sure what a cult was at that point, but I knew there was something radically different there – and I was drawn to it.

This church did an excellent job of living out the New Testament as far as orderly worship (speaking in tongues, healing, dancing, etc.). Never was there a time when it was chaotic, blaspheme, or ungodly. The leaders of this church have my utmost respect. They were godly, ethical, transparent and real. They simply allowed the Holy Spirit to move in the ways He wanted to – all according to the Bible.  I experienced a healing to my leg there that at least a dozen people witnessed. God spoke to me personally for the first time, then countless times, during this season. The youth pastor became one of the most influential people I’ve ever had in my life as he demonstrated true humility and strength of convictions, leadership and friendship. I learned that it was okay to dance before the Lord, like David did. I learned it was okay to raise my hands in worship when my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest. I learned it was okay to get out of my seat and kneel down at the altar for prayer if I needed it. Those years were unlike any other. God took on 3D form. His presence was tangible. His love was radical. His yearning for personal relationship was new, fresh, and exciting.

When my husband and I married, we moved about 45 minutes away from that church in order to afford our first home. I was 19 (he was 23) when we married and 21 (he was 25) when we bought a small, foreclosed, forgotten home. The major benefit was its close proximity to our college and jobs as we worked and went to school. We didn’t mind the drive to church…until our baby was born 5 years later. He was very colicky and hard to settle down. The long drive proved to be too much. Sadly, we felt we needed a church home closer to us.

Southern Baptist

God led us to a Southern Baptist church. We joined a Bible Study class, had our baby registered with the church nursery and grew as a couple, and as individuals, from the sermons taught. We thought it would be a place we would stay for a long time, until an unexpected job change meant packing up our home and taking a new job in a different state.

We spent a year looking for a church after we moved, when a contractor helping us with some work on our soon-to-be new home suggested his church – another Southern Baptist. We tried it and liked it because it was so much like the one in our old state – just a smaller version. It was the first church we visited where our then toddler didn’t pitch a fit to go.  We agreed with their doctrine, etc. and felt at home. We joined it and have been there for the past 16 years.

Where was God?

It may sound like I bounced around a lot from church to church – denomination to denomination – and I did. Some were my choice, some were not.  But God revealed something to me years ago when I was struggling to heal from my past.  I’ve been a part of many conversations where people wear their denomination (or church) like a badge or club membership. They are proud of it and believe the are part of the best team. Then there was me standing sheepishly quiet (unusual for me), embarrassed, hoping no one would ask me about my church background. If I had to explain it, it would open a Pandora’s box of an unstable, unsettled childhood I didn’t know how to frame in the conversation.

But what God told me was profound. It was simple. Rich. Easy to understand.

He was in each church, and ordained each of them for the different seasons of my life.  They were all Bible-teaching churches, though they couldn’t have been more different in style of worship and service.  Biblically sound, spot on theology – they all believed the Word of God and taught it in its entirety.

Being born into a Southern Baptist church, I had the privilege of being baptized as a child. To my best understanding, I accepted all I understood about God and Jesus and wanted them to be a part of my life. It was then God became my safe place.  Jesus was my friend.

Walking with my mom and sister after dinner one night, we held hands with my empty hand open in mid-air. My mom asked me whose hand I was holding. I replied in a matter-of-fact, almost perturbed I had to actually explain it, “Well Jesus’ of course!”  God and Jesus became real to me as a child through this Southern Baptist church.

During the years of my mom’s second marriage when we attended the Presbyterian church, I experienced God as sovereign, protector and peacemaker. See, this was the only hour of the entire week that I could count on my stepfather controlling his temper and voice. The years he was in my life were a living nightmare. I was terrified of him – for good reason. My mom and he fought constantly, often ending with her sobbing in the bedroom with the door locked. Our home was neither happy nor safe as long as he was there. Sitting together in the pew for church meant I could exhale – for one hour a week. The pins and needles I lived on for the other 6 days and 23 hours could relax. I could let my guard down. I could rest.

Those Sundays, the sun shone through the colored glass and lulled me to a place of contentment and peace not found in our home. The quietness. Stillness. Calm atmosphere of this traditional church is just what this very frightened little girl needed. There was safety in numbers, and I knew my stepfather would never dare make a scene at church. The authority figures of the pastors seemed to usurp him for that one hour and I could lean against my mom’s shoulder, doodle or stare at the stained glass life of Christ in utter peace – if only for 60 minutes a week.

God was precious to me there. I didn’t know this style of service was just what I needed, but He did. He was indeed looking after His baby girl. Anything louder, higher energy, or more sensory would have sent my spirit into a tailspin. Worship at this church felt like I could curl up in His lap every week and be held.  Hymns still have a way of bringing me to a place of instant peace.

When I became a member of the charismatic United Methodist church at 13, little did I know that two years later my single-parent mom would be stricken with breast cancer, and die from it a year later.  We would go from an all-girl home, finally filled with laughter after the divorce, to a 24/7 crisis. My entire life fractured and I fell completely apart inside.

We lost our home, possessions, my boyfriend, most of my friends, my dog, my cat and my car in an accident the night before her funeral. I had no reason to live and wanted to die. Had it not been for being a part of this church at this exact point in my life, I don’t know how else I would have gotten to experience the saving hand of God. He held on to me when I was too weak to hold on to Him. Because of the extraordinary ways I experienced God for two years leading up to her illness, He used that open door to radically save my life, literally. I couldn’t breathe. Think. Cope. But, God never let me go. He often gave me dreams and spoke to me through the Bible. I was open to seeing His hand move in miraculous ways with much thanks to this church teaching me how to recognize it when He moved.  This kind of church gets a lot of negative complaints, and oftentimes rightly so. But not all charismatic churches are the same. This one did it right. Godly. Biblically. This church didn’t save my life, but God did through it.  

God became acutely personal to me like never before.  When I was 14, I went on a youth retreat with this church. It was on this trip that God literally called me to Himself to the point where I turned to other people in the room to see if they heard it, too. A couple of years later, on another youth retreat, I asked our youth pastor if I could be baptized – again. It was my idea – not his. I felt a tugging in my heart that I wanted to do this, although I had already been baptized as a young child. It’s not that the first one “didn’t count,” it was that I was older and had grown so much in my faith, I simply wanted to be baptized to show God how much I love Him. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was between Him and me.  I was old enough to own my faith, and this was a decision I made. I had grown a lot since the whole roach comment, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and really wanted to stick a stake in the ground of my faith. In addition to baptism being an outward symbol of my decision to follow Christ, this was as a beautiful reminder of everything Jesus did out of love for me. The youth pastor agreed and opened it up to others. On a sunny afternoon in the North Carolina mountains, several of us took turns wading into the small river near our retreat. I remember looking up at the tall trees, the sunlight bursting through the pockets of leaves, and the taste of fresh river water rushing through my mouth. It was beautiful. I am thankful that this church didn’t reject my second baptism for legalistic reasons. My river moment changed me. I truly believe I wouldn’t be alive now without having experienced God in the raw, holy ways I did in this church during the most difficult years of my life.

One more thing to mention, when my mom’s cancer was progressing, she surprised me and came to a Sunday evening service. I was so happy! I wasn’t sure why she was there, because I wasn’t sure if she still thought this was a cult or not. However, there was an older gentleman who always held the large, wooden doors open for the congregation. He was always there. That night, God gave me one of the sweetest, most tender gifts He’s ever given me.  He allowed me to overhear a very short conversation. I happened to be standing just far enough away as the service ended to see this gentleman walk over to my mom.  She stood motionless. Speechless. Wide-eyed. He came to her and quietly said, “Something happened tonight, didn’t it.” She couldn’t reply with words. With huge eyes staring forward, she could only nod her head, her body frozen. It was powerful to observe.

I stood off to the side, watching.  I don’t know what transpired between God and her, but after that she was very different. She no longer minded that I spent so much time at this church. Her faith walk began to look very different. She was changed. Her illness took a quick turn for the worse, and this is the last memory I have of her as herself before the cancer got so bad. Although I don’t know the details, I am comforted in the fact that God met her in a new way, right where she was at, for the good.  I knew she had experienced God in the real, tangible way I had – and I felt a peace that she now understood why I was drawn to Him in such intense ways as just a teenager.

When my husband, baby and I joined the Southern Baptist church near our home, we had no idea it would be for such a short season. However, looking back, we are so grateful because this was a divine appointment in two ways. One, it helped us grow as a young family. There was a multitude of Bible study classes to join, a very impressive nursery system, and it was new for us. As 20-somethings with a baby, it was exciting to begin our own family worship routine. This church helped shepherd us as young parents – something we deeply needed. By divine design, it also set us up for the church we found when we moved. Although our current church is considerably smaller compared to the mega-church we came from, it was very similar in many ways. It made a new state, new city, new community and new neighbors feel quickly like home.

We had no way of knowing about the move, so we had no idea we’d be looking for a church in a state where we knew no one. It was a God-send to find our church home through a contractor.  Even the childcare program was much the same (which is a huge factor for new moms!). God knew He was leading us to this church, for this season of life over the past 16 years, and helped us find it by way of the one we joined back home.

For His glory, God put us here to use our spiritual gifts and raise our family. This church is family to us. They have been with us through the highest highs and deepest lows. It is an extraordinarily giving, gracious church who cares about those sitting next to us, living next door to us, and those across the oceans from us. It is here that God brought a 20 year-old word from Him to fruition in our marriage – that our marriage was designed to be an extension of His open hand. We have seen that become realized in local and global missions through our church.  It is very exciting to serve with people who have the same passionate heartbeat of serving others in need – wherever that may take us.

In each season of life, God gave me a church that was exactly what I needed – even though I didn’t realize it at the time. As a child, He blessed me in the churches that my parents chose. As an adult, through much prayer and seeking His will, He has led us right where He wants us each time.

Now when I am in conversations with those who want to talk denomination (though I refuse to argue or debate about them), I am no longer embarrassed to tell them my quilted church history. Looking back, it is so easy to see that no matter which Bible-believing church I was a part of, it was the perfect fit for that season of life – only God could’ve planned it that way.

Who God was to me in those churches

God wove my faith journey together using each church and denomination as a different color and texture in my story…

Birth – 4 yrs – Born into a Southern Baptist church – I learned God was real; a friend; someone who was nice and loved me.

7yrs – 12yrs of a frightened childhood spent at a Presbyterian church- He was peacemaker, strong, protective, safe, someone who cared about my feelings, gentle, and kind.

13-25yrs crisis-stricken teen years and early 20’s spent at a charismatic United Methodist – He fights for me; has a plan for me; is the one true God; knows me better than I know myself; is holy; healer; is on our side; there is nothing He wouldn’t do to show me He loves me.

26yrs to current – Southern Baptist – He is provider, loves the whole world, redeemer, restorer, re-builder. He is hope, joy, good all the time, bears our burdens, disciplines in love, equips us for the task, encourages, leads blind faith, is justice, mercy, and defender of the voiceless.

What I’ve learned

The denomination doesn’t matter to me NEARLY as much as if the entire Word of God is being preached (including His stance on all of the current major social issues). I haven’t mentioned church names for a reason – I can’t stand cliches and branding. There are many great Bible-believing churches out there, and I am not going to drop names for the sake of.

Moreover, we are one body, the bride of Christ. There will be no denominations in heaven. That’s right! Believers will all be united in one voice. Period. What the world needs to see us acting like it now. There is so much more we can do together as one, rather than divided.

I have no problem with different Bible-believing denominations and their unique traditions because I myself have lived to see there is purpose in each of them. It breaks my heart when family, friends and communities tear each other apart over things that do not make an eternal difference.

I used to avoid telling my church story for fear of being judged. Now, I want to tell it in hopes that others will see that God can move in any Bible-believing church. The ways He chooses to move may be different, but different doesn’t have to equal bad. Different can just be…different. And that’s okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. That difference may be just what someone needs for this season of life.

Grace. Grace. Grace. What would the church-at-large look like if we showed each other more grace? The world may just start to wonder what God’s grace could look like for their lives?

All of this is under the umbrella that a church is biblically sound, teaches solid theology, and believes the entire Word of God. I would never recommend letting the leash out on churches who aren’t teaching the whole Truth from the pulpit, in small groups, and in individual lives of its members.

Also…

I’ve had enough life experience in a variety of denominations to know that God isn’t denominational.  He’s personal. I thank Him for every moment spent in every church in which I have had the blessing to be a part.

My personal, Christian friends are: Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran, Catholic, Presbyterian, non-denominational, Greek Orthodox, Church of Christ, Assembly of God, and Episcopalian.  I love them all and have a blast worshiping the same God.

I want my friends who have faiths other than Christian to see that, despite my friends’ different denominations, we all get along, serve the same God, and are for sharing the love of Jesus and helping through service in any way God calls us to, rather than staying perpetually stuck on issues that won’t matter in the new heaven and new earth that is to come.

An interesting read on uniting the church community can be found here.

What would the church-at-large look like if we concentrated on working with what we have in common, rather than focusing on what we don’t?

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Romans 15:5-6

I’ve learned that God is much more concerned with the heart than with anything else. Anyone can fill a pew or a chair. People can be lifetime members of one church and never know God personally. We have friends who live in places where corporate worship is forbidden and they must worship on their own. Is their faith any less? Absolutely not.

We are the church. Each and every believer is the church. A building does not a church make. I’ve gone to church on the beach, in the hospital, under a tree, on a bus, in secret, in the African Mara with real warriors donning large spears sitting next to me, in theater buildings, in school buildings, in my home, on a ranch, at sunrise, at sunset, at midnight, in the car, on a plane, at the top of a mountain, over the ocean, in extended family’s churches, in best friends’ churches, on a walk, in war-torn country, and in our front yard – to name a few. Ironically, none of those were denominational services. They were believers, from every walk of life, coming together to worship the one, true God.  That’s what church in heaven will look like, and I can’t wait.

My heart’s desire is to be a reflection of the love of Christ to everyone with whom God intersects my path, and to live a life based on Christ’s principles – not a particular church’s membership – and to live in community with other Bible-believers with no staunch divisions between us.

Time is short. We can read the headlines and see that. Will the church-at-large allow God to work through our faith to make a difference for Christ in this world He loves so much?

…at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

Philippians 2:10-11

A place to belong

A thought occurred to me the other day – I have finally found a place to belong. A place where my heart beats in sync with those around me. Where I feel accepted. Beneficial. Wanted. A place where I am not judged or misunderstood. Quite the contrary, a place that wants to hear what I have to say. What I think. It wants to hear my voice.

I’ve waited my entire life to feel like I was actually a part of the conversation. Not being humored. Ignored. Tolerated.

I can count a thousand places where I didn’t fit in – no matter how hard I tried. No matter what I wore. How I spoke. What I owned.

And the things that make me unique are celebrated and encouraged – not snubbed, laughed at, or discounted.

This place fuels the fire in my soul that perhaps I have found a way to be myself and feed the God-given passion inside me at the same time. Neither part of me has to sit down and be quiet. For the first time, these two parts of me work together…in tandem.

But lately, this place has been judged. Criticized. Spoken harshly about. I get that there are people who won’t agree with my place, but do they have to be so vocal about it? Are generalizations beneficial? Even if some of their stereotypes are true, they may not be true about me, personally.

And, to my utter surprise, this hardness comes from those I thought would support this place. They come from the same team.

The other night, when I had enough of hearing their unwanted opinions, I began to cry. Once I started to cry, I couldn’t stop.

My teenager came over and held me the way I used to hold him when he was little and his feelings were hurt by this world. He whispered in my ear, “It’s okay, Mom.”

He held me in his long, lanky arms.

Tears of a broken heart are very different than tears of anger, bewilderment or shock. When a heart cries, it cries deep. The tears it spills replace words we can’t find to express the pain.

When a heart wells with tears, and fills to overflowing, in that moment no words are necessary.

Eventually, Humpty Dumpty’s heart was put back together and the tears stopped. It doesn’t mean my heart was never broken. The fracture lines are still there. And, it will probably break again.

But for now, I have a choice. Do I listen to the critical judgments of others, who paint with a broad brushstroke of generalizations, or do I believe what my heart knows is true and press on?

This is really hard. Discouragement is a weakness for me and it can make me quit faster than just about anything.

I choose to look at three little sticky posts I keep on my desk: One from my husband that says, “I love you!” Another is a quote I wrote down from a speaker, “Lean into the discomfort. Let yourself be seen.” And the last one that has been a go-to for a long time now, “Breathe.”

More than these, I read again the Scripture that sits apart from these sticky notes on the other side of my laptop by itself, “In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path.” – Proverbs 3:6

It won’t be easy. Pressing forward feels like when I’m at the beach and am trying to break through the tide line to get to deeper water. With every step a wave slams into me and knocks me off my feet. Sometimes I fall on my bum. Other times I get a mouth full of salty water and can’t catch my breath. Other times they slap me square on my back and sting my eyes.

But, I know very well that the way to get to the beautiful deep, where mysteries are discovered and God’s will is revealed, is only possible by pushing through the pounding waves.

I will keep pushing. There is a place where I finally found I belong, and it’s worth fighting for. Any place that’s worth it, is worth the effort to get there.

Strength in weakness

* This post has been reblogged from our family mission blog.*

We need a place to work out the very real emotions and thoughts of a regular family trying to be obedient to God in global missions. We are fearful. Selfish. Weak.

The hope is that by fleshing out the “us” in us, we will be empty vessels that can authentically be the hands and feet of Christ to whomever He puts in our path and wherever that path leads us. We deeply desire to shed the sin that so easily trips us up.

Hebrews 12:1-2, Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

It takes work to surrender – at least for me. I am stubborn. Opinionated. Obstinate. I don’t always learn things the first time and learn most lessons the hard way. I can easily become consumed by fear and worry, and am 100% guilty of going directly to the worst-case-scenario in my thoughts. My weaknesses can yell louder than my strengths, and I have been known to become paralyzed with fear. I have preferences, idiosyncrasies, and annoyances. I am ADD and OCD – each to different extents. I know exactly what pushes my buttons, as well as what pushes my sanity right off the cliff. I know what makes me cringe, nauseates me, and incites private anxiety. God knows these things about me, too.

The thought that He’d want to use me anyway is astounding!

Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 12:8-9, Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

When we acknowledge our weaknesses, the enemy cannot hang them over our heads, threatening to tell our secrets. Beth Moore said it best, “I tell on myself before the enemy has a chance to.”

Truth is, none of us are worthy in our own right to bear the name of Christ. Our lips are wicked. Isaiah knew this well…

Isaiah 6:1-5, In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.”

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke. “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips,and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.”

Anyone who knows they have been saved by Jesus’ sacrifice knows we are not worthy to do His bidding. Still, He calls us to go and makes disciples of all nations. Wow.

Once I got it, really got it, that God first loved me (before I even knew His name), pursued me in the name of love, and Jesus saved me from my sins by counting the cost for me, my only response can be to love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength (Mark 12:30).

What does that look like?

Loving God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength can be summed up in one sentence: To worship Him in every way all the time. Something I fall dreadfully short in. Never has this been a more sobering, humbling process than once our family surrendered to His call to global missions.

Romans 12:1, Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God – this is your spiritual act of worship.

Is anything less than my everything acceptable? No. Christ gave everything to save me. I want to give Him everything in return. It’s just this annoying thing called: carnal nature, sinful nature, walking in the flesh, human nature, or whatever you want to name it that gets in the way.

There’s an old saying – The only problem with a living sacrifice, is that a living sacrifice can crawl off of the altar and run away.

So true!

I am left with one option. Deliberately. Knowingly. Sacrificially, give my time, talents and treasures over and over and over and over to Him again and again and again. My selfish hands keep stealing these back, but my heart, in love with the One who loves me, willingly surrenders them because being close to God is worth far more than anything this life could offer.

Jesus said in John 15:13, Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. We often think about the idea of giving our lives for people, or Jesus giving His life for us, but I am drawn to this verse that speaks of giving my life for my friend, Jesus (James 2:23). Paul said it this way in 2 Timothy…

2 Timothy 4:6, For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near.

There is way more about the Old Testament that I don’t understand than what I do understand, but I love how Paul’s word picture of being poured out like a drink offering parallels the memorial and peace offerings (burnt, fellowship and grain offerings) that drink offerings typically accompanied in the Old Testament. A memorial offering was a reminder of our sin.  A peace offering was a reminder that because of this offering we are able to have close communion with God, and that we can have peace with God (possible today through the blood Jesus shed for our sins as the final drink offering required for redemption – Luke 22:20; John 19:32-34).

So on this altar we call life, we lay ourselves down as living sacrifices being poured out in memory of our sins and comforted with divine peace that they are forgiven.  We do this out of our love for Him, yes, but moreover because of His love for us.

1 John 4:19, We love because he first loved us.

Turning our focus away from our own weaknesses and preferences and toward God who so loves this world, we are raptured in His love and suddenly the costs we are asked to count for Christ seem indescribably insignificant.

Luke 9:23-24, And (Jesus) said to all, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

His love for each of us makes it possible to pick up our cross daily and follow Him – even when the world stands and stares and shakes their head in nonsensical bewilderment.

Philippians 3:12-14, Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

We all have weaknesses. What a beautiful reminder that we press on toward the prize of Jesus… despite ourselves.

When we take our eyes off of ourselves, whatever the distractions may be, and gaze upward at the love, grace and mercy God has for us, this becomes the only thing we see. Everything that holds us to this life disappears and we find God’s strength in our weakness.

Hum the melody with me (or better yet, sing it old school with the piano – click here) to the classic hymn Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus. It is especially interesting to note that Helen Howarth Lemmel, who composed the music for these lyrics in 1922, was blind.  To God be the glory.

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Through death into life everlasting
He passed, and we follow Him there;
O’er us sin no more hath dominion
For more than conqu’rors we are!

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

His Word shall not fail you, He promised;
Believe Him and all will be well;
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Light the world

I was in the bank recently when God met me there with a word for the day. An armed security guard’s poised stance, with hands folded in front of him, greeted me at the door. I walked passed him and said, Hello. Nothing.

Entering the bank, I noticed I was the only customer. Good! A quick transaction and I’m outta there.  The teller was friendly. The room quiet.  When she stepped away for a second, I looked around the sterile square building with the ambiance to match. However, next to me was a Christmas tree. Festive! Unfortunately, it wasn’t lit. I looked closer to see if it had lights and indeed it did.

Hmm.  Maybe there isn’t an outlet nearby, I thought. The ornaments were pretty, but it just didn’t catch an eye without the sparkle of tiny lights brightening up the tree.

The teller and I finished our transaction, and I took a chance on offering something potentially embarrassing.  I asked, Would you like me to plug in the Christmas tree lights?

I held my breath for her reply.  Glancing at security cameras, I was reminded that in a bank, one is expected to act within a tight box of behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to draw attention. Do what you need to and leave. Rummaging around on the floor was far from the norm.

Yes! Thank you! she smiled. The outlet is on the wall near the back.

Relieved, I turned toward the tree and searched for the outlet.  Finding it, I realized I’d need to get on my hands and knees to reach it.  Down I went, searching for the plugs. One plug in.  Two plugs in. Done!

I crawled backwards from underneath the tree, still with my purse slung over my shoulder, and stood up – only to find a long line of people now waiting for tellers…staring at me.

EEK! I thought no one was around.  I made no eye contact and quickly headed toward the door.

When lights are plugged in, whether it be on a Christmas tree, on garland, on bushes or mantles, people usually like to stand back and take a look.  I never looked back, though I wanted to.

As I reached the door with the same security guard still not speaking, God met me and reminded me of my dear friend’s words. She often tells her children, Be a light in this world.

With the hustle and bustle of this short Christmas season, where panic and stress is thick in the air, God reminded me that wherever we go, whomever we speak with, we are to leave their lives brighter than we found them.  As followers of Christ, we have the privilege and responsibility of illuminating conversation, situation and circumstance with Jesus’ light – especially at Christmas.

When we are long gone, if we have done our job well as an ambassador for Christ, His light will continue to shine in the path we leave – just like the bank’s Christmas tree was something now beautiful and brilliant to look at while waiting in line.

We may never know the impact of Jesus’ light shining in our lives, but if we could see our path from God’s perspective, it must look pretty cool.  Imagine the map of the world we’ve seen as nighttime sets in.  Suddenly, there are pinpoints of light clustering all around the globe.  If our lives looked like a map, how bright would they shine?

The holidays are hard in their own right.  They bring pressure, stress, distraction, exhaustion and dynamics of relationships that can be both sad and difficult. Believers’ lives are no different.  We have our own share of struggles. But, this is when we need to let Jesus’ light shine in our lives even brighter.

Give the person in the car behind you that great parking spot you could have. Pay for someone’s meal. Bring cookies to the unpopular neighbor, teacher or coworker. Make Christmas more about people than things. Celebrate Christ, not stuff.

Only God can take a wacky moment of lighting a bank’s Christmas tree and turn it into a devotion for me that lasted the whole day. I love that about Him!

Let’s look for places we can shine His light – and begin at home. A hug for a difficult teenager. Patience for a preschooler. Grace for a spouse. And let the path of light continue into every relationship, every moment of this season. After all, this is not only exactly what Jesus did…it is who He is.

John 8:12 When Jesus spoke again to the people he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in the darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Without His light glowing in us and through us, we are just a prickly, sticky mass with a lot of bling hanging off of us.

His light may illuminate spaces that just might surprise us…like our own hearts! Be a light in this world. Shine on!