Category Archives: Faith

No sooner did I…

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.  See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.   Isaiah 43:18-19

In 2010, our lives were unexpectedly flipped upside down and inside out.  Unbeknownst to us, a series of events, divinely timed, methodically unfolded.  However, we were completely unaware of what God was up to.  What began as a normal Sunday at church turned into an eternal change in the direction of our family.  The words of guest speaker, David Stevens, uprooted my entire way of thinking of what faith looks like in a person’s life.  Challenging, penetrating words from a woman advocating for African orphans rocked my world one night as we watched them joyfully sing and dance and give their testimony to God’s faithfulness.  Then, through God’s providence, He brought Dr. David Platt’s book, Radical, into our lives.  Like birth pains, our lives were quickly becoming uncomfortable to say the least.  We were compelled to examine our lives and ask God if there was anything He’d like to change about them.  Do NOT ask that question if you’re not ready for the answer!

The next thing we know, we’re on a plane with our children 10-14 yrs old, headed to Africa on our first international mission trip (and our first trip out of the country).  The next summer, we found ourselves in Ukraine on a different mission trip.  This past summer, we were speechless as our passports were stamped in Asia on yet another different mission project.

Everything we knew normal to look like was so far in the rear view mirror we couldn’t even see it anymore.  In between those times, we continued with local work in our community.  I thought what God had planned to change in our lives had happened, and even though I certainly felt out of my comfort zone, I had no idea that was only the first phase of the transformation.

I really believed the “change” had happened.  And it did.  But, God never said anything to us about that being the only change.

Once again, I find myself being shaken. I am currently taking the Bible study, Interrupted, by Jen Hatmaker.  What began as a desire to take this study from an alumni stance of, Oh I know what she is talking about!  Been there.  Done that! quickly became something different.

One day of homework shook me to my core.  I admitted to my small group that God had radically shown me a peek into phase 2 of the transformation and it deals directly with me.  I have a thing.  Everyone has a thing, and we are quick to judge others’ things because either they makes us feel better about our thing, or their thing is just plain weird in our own eyes.

My thing has to do with my hands.  It is a sensory issue mostly.  My hands must be clean.  I don’t wash them 18 times a day, but they must stay generally clean or the epicenter of my sanity is rocked off its axis and I cannot focus on anything until I wash them.  Okay, so that’s my thing.  I said it.

What does this have to do with the transformation of our family’s and my faith?  A lot.

This oddity about me with my hands has held me back from experiences in life.  I love nature, animals, and all of that.  Love it!  But, as much as I love to get up close and personal with insects, please do not ask me to touch them.  I will look at them, photograph them and appreciate their place in our ecosystem, but their legs and exoskeletons make my skin crawl to imagine them touching my hands.

I love sharks.  Okay, so I am a little obsessed with them!  Have been my whole life.  I’ve read books about them and watched nearly every documentary on them.  A few years ago, I had the opportunity to touch one.  I was allowed to stroke its back and dorsal fin.  A moment I had waited for my entire life!  As I reached into the salty water, I felt a swell of adrenaline and nausea roll over me.  As much as I wanted to enjoy the moment, the slick, leathery skin that I had waited forever to touch also made me weak in the knees.

The other day, I was trying to catch a large lizard that found its way into our home.  However, it wasn’t the lizard’s size, speed or agility that made me shriek like a little girl every time I missed, it was knowing it would be in my hands and I would feel every toenail, its chest heaving in distress (scared of me!) and its lose, cool skin.  I think lizards are so neat!  But handling them is something different.

When pumping gas, or in the salad bar line, I use my less dominant hand so the hand I use for everything else is still clean.  It’s a right-handed world, and that’s fine with me!  Shaking people’s hands with my right hand keeps my dominant left hand clean for everything else I need to do.  A couple of times for my children’s birthday parties, I made mystery boxes that everyone stuck their hands into and had to feel their way to the items on the list. I made the box.  I knew what was in it.  I knew it was only spaghetti noodles hiding things like pencils, plastic dinosaurs, and bouncy balls. But, for the life of me, I could not stick my own hand in the box!  Yeah, that’s me.

When we were in Africa, I really struggled.  For 2 weeks, I couldn’t practice the hand-washing methods, etc. that I do here in America.  However, I did embrace bucket showers and thought that if America could do this one change we’d have no more worries of clean water shortages. As much as I loved Kenya and its friendly, hospitable and warm people, being there was a huge mental obstacle for me because of my stupid hand thing.  I carried so much guilt and shame around with me as I wrestled to assure myself this wasn’t a case of me thinking too highly of myself.  Like, I would never touch something or someone less than me.  Oh my word no!  That’s not it at all.

It’s a sensory thing.  Like I have 10 little brains attached to my hands.  Weird, I know.

When I hold my husband or my children’s hands, I feel an emotional electricity connecting us through touch.  When I knead dough, there is a feeling of workmanship and family (it’s a very old family recipe) that affects me on a deeper level.  But, don’t even get me started on public door handles and bathrooms.  It isn’t pretty.

So in Africa, as well as the other two countries we served in, because of this secret, odd thing, I found my place comfortably behind the camera.  As a freelance photographer, I was more than happy to be the team historian for these trips.  I was also very happy to load and lug equipment; produce and carry-out VBS with the team; harvest corn; help with soccer clinics, help start-up community playgroups, etc.  I was very happy to serve in ways that made me comfortable.  I even told myself that according to 1 Corinthians 12:12-31, we all have different gifts and talents God uses as a collective body to serve in His name.  That is true, but hiding behind those talents is not the same as using them for His glory.

Enter the Interrupted study I am taking.

On this particular day of study, God showed me that what I have known my whole life as “good enough” service to Him was no longer good enough.  He wants to move me from from a place of comfort to a place where I will serve Him even if – and especially if – it is uncomfortable.  It’s about living in His strength and not my own.  It’s about overcoming our fears with power and victory believers have in Christ.

Sure, it’s okay to continue to use the stuff God hard-wired in me for His work, but He is now gently pushing me toward new work that requires more than I have to give.

He lovingly told me that I have been hiding behind my camera; hiding behind the title of organizer in different service projects both local and worldwide; and hiding behind my writing.  Why?  Because in all of those cases I get to appease my hand issue.  I don’t have to necessarily be hands-on in the uncomfortable work.

I remember watching my daughter, then just 12 years old, swing, hold and play with precious children on the African mountainside completely uninhibited.  I was envious of her.  She sat on the ground while they braided her hair and rested in her lap.  I stood on the sidelines watching through the lens of my camera – wishing I could be like her.  Watching my sons hold hands with children who had an enormous amount of mucus and drainage running out of their noses, wiping it with their hands, then again taking the hands of my sons again – never to be denied and always welcomed with a smile, tears filled my eyes as I hoped those same mucus-filled hands wouldn’t find mine.  If they did, I would certainly not turn them away, but it would push me right to the edge of my personal cliff.

In Asia, we worked with children who couldn’t care for themselves, and I repeatedly had to silently stop and breathe because again, as I adjusted my normal to meet theirs.  I guess it turned up the fact I have the same issue with my feet.  Removing my shoes, as is custom, meant I had to sometimes walk barefoot on strange floors that had many bare feet on them.  The crunch of unknown substances I stepped on, or someone else’s hair getting stuck to the bottoms of my feet made me want to run outside and rub my feet in the grass.  Oh the shame to feel such things on mission trips!  But, I would just as quickly feel them at home, too. My oddity shows no discrimination of people, place or circumstance.

This is real. Raw. Sobering.  Embarrassing.  So why write about it?  Why risk being judged by the big world we live in?  Why set myself up for possible critique or criticism?

God is doing a new work, and I guess I want to give a very clear “before” picture, so He can get the glory for the “after” picture I trust is coming.

In our study’s small group, I confessed these things with bated breath not knowing how I’d be received. To my pleasant surprise, my humbling words were met with beautiful grace.  Every single woman was so gracious!  It is their response that gave me the courage to write this on a public blog.  I left that morning with hope that God can change even the strangest things about people.  We are, in fact, a work in progress.

We openly discussed the topic of helping the homeless and the poor and all that surrounds these desperate circumstances. Yet, as I confessed my shortcoming of the hand thing, even the nurse and occupational therapist in our group were merciful to me – and never made me feel like I was less of a believer or a person due to this obstacle that they obviously don’t share given their lines of work.

I told the group, God revealed to me with fresh eyes that I have been hiding in ministry because of this.  With sincere motives, giving money, donating clothes, and serving in a food line is comfortable.  Joining my kids and their friends in nursing homes to sing Christmas carols, making and donating gift baskets for women’s shelters and organizing bake sales to benefit world relief efforts is comfortable.  Doing yard work and attending luncheons for widows is comfortable.  Soliciting contributions from businesses for the different charities we work with is comfortable.

God is clearly telling me that while those things are good, if I am doing them to partly hide behind what isn’t comfortable, then that needs to change.  I accepted His loving discipline and offered Him an open heart as best I could.

I left our small group to run a few errands at my familiar stomping ground.  No sooner did I pull up at the same old three-way stop, than I immediately saw a woman standing at the stop sign holding a sign asking for help.  At her feet sat two children.  It was chilly, windy and drizzling.

In one motion of heart and head, I instantly knew this was God placing me there to practice this new lesson of serving in the discomfort.  We keep gift bags in our car with bottled water, cans of soup and Scripture for such an occasion, but this mom and her kids needed more than that.

I cannot describe how 100% confidently sure I was that God called me to this intersection for such a time as this.  Normally, we would hand them the gift bag, ask their name and tell them we would pray for them all before the light turned green and off we’d go.  For years that has sufficed.  Not so this day.

It was a well-trafficked intersection, in the middle of the day, in a familiar part of town, and it was a mom and two young children.  I felt very safe (an important aspect). I drove right by her without a word, but pulled into the first open parking space at Wal-Mart.  God clearly told me to get them a gift card.  I found a pretty gift card with pink flowers on it, checked out and walked with haste back to the van.

Looking back to see if they were still there, I circled the van to the closest parking space to them.  I sat in the van and prayed.  Of all the times I’ve tried to help people standing on the street corner, I’ve never gotten out of my car to do it.

That instant, the bondage of fear left me and I knew I was walking in God’s strength and power – not mine.  I walked up to the mom and her kids and asked them if I could take them to lunch.  I offered that the kids could play on the play set while we could just relax and eat.  As soon as I offered, she broke down and cried and thanked me.  However, someone before me had already given them lunch.

Okay.  So what now? I prayed.

I remembered Jen Hatmaker’s words in the study, Ask them their name and their story, because they never get to tell their story.  

So I did.  And, with all glory to God, I held out my hand to shake each of theirs.  (Not a big deal to 99% of the population, but it’s a big deal to me.)

Suddenly, we were just two women smiling and talking with no regard to the many cars passing by.  Her daughter had a beautiful, captivating smile and her son was incredibly polite.  I offered her the gift card and she began to cry again.  I gave her the name of our church to see if they could help in any way.  Then I did something I’ve never done.  I gave her my cell phone number.

Physical touch and sharing personal information were on my list of no’s.  And, I would never blankly say it’s okay to do this in any situation, but it was okay in this one.  God had given me an indescribable a peace about it.

I listened to her story and offered to pray for her family.  She gladly accepted.  In our home, we always hold hands when we pray no matter where we are.  I reached out my hand and asked if she would hold mine for the prayer.  She held out her hand, and in the moment we touched I felt a 1,000 pounds of guilt and shame I have carried my whole life over this hand thing drop like a rock.

I was a new person before we said Amen.

This mom was so sweet.  Her children were precious.  I could have stayed with them all day. Before leaving, I shook both of her children’s hands and gave the mom my number. I didn’t have much to write on, so she offered me the back of her poster she was holding asking for help.

I mentioned earlier that physical touch is a big deal for me, and as we both held the large poster board, and my left hand drug across it as I wrote my number on it in ink, it changed me.  In a  way, I had become connected to her board – her situation – her.  It became very personal in that moment.  It’s difficult to put into words.  It wasn’t a typical drive-by/drop-off of goods and well wishes between strangers.  It was two women helping each other.  I hope I was a blessing to her.  For certain she was to me.

When she accepted the gift card, the first words she spoke were, My children have almost nothing to wear.  Now I can buy them some clothes. It pierced my heart that her first response was to take care of her children.

Driving away, it dawned on me that she never asked me for anything.  Strange!  I asked her name and her story; offered them lunch; gave her a gift card; gave them our church’s number and my cell phone number; and asked if there was anything else I could do.  She never asked for anything, but was so appreciative and teary.

However, truly I also received something I needed.  God broke the stronghold of the hand thing. His love superseded my hangup and His mercy and compassion won out.

I pray He continues to meet the needs of this family, as I look for them now every time I pass that intersection.  I know He will.  This experience was also a blessing to me because it showed me that God hasn’t given up on me and my hangups.  He loves us with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3) and will finish the work He started in us (Philippians 1:6) even if some of us take a little longer.

Because of this experience, God has given me a new hope and fresh excitement for what phase 2 may hold.  Before, I had some sticky reservations, but I am reminded that God can do the impossible – He can change us – creatures of habit that we are.

Serving where He has me, in the roles He has me in, is great.  But, now I look forward with curiosity at what in the world He may have in store.

He is good.  Patient.  Kind.  Perfect.  Forgiving.  We are made in His image.  Fragile.  Sinful.  Beautiful.  Only He can put Humpty Dumpty together to create a new work with the same broken chards of the past.  We are new.  Whole.  Lovely.  Even though it is the same ol’ us.

What is He nudging you toward today?  What comfort zone is He moving you away from?  As we live and breathe there is a plan for our lives. The Potter continues to sculpt us into the image of His Son for plans no eye has seen nor ear has heard (1 Corinthians 2:9).  Do I wish I could redo all of the times my shortcomings sabotaged a moment of ministry?  Absolutely.  But I will not stay in the guilt of the past because God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3;22-23).  If He can forgive and forget, so can I (Psalm 103:11-12; Isaiah 43:25; Hebrews 8:12).

However, I don’t want to completely forget so I will remember to let God keep pushing me out of my comfort zone and draw me toward wherever His heart is at work.  I don’t want to miss a moment.

Seasons

As I have written before, God used recent physical therapy as a very loud way in which to communicate with me.  I was wary of His methods and wasn’t always prepared for what He had to say.

After shoulder surgery, I spent the last several weeks traveling to and from the p/t office.  This is a great thing, except one part – the dreaded arm bike.

Before surgery, I never knew there was such a thing as an arm bike.  A nifty piece of equipment, but they could not have put it in a worse spot in the p/t room.  Stuck in a corner!

I have the attention span of a gnat, and sitting and staring at a business-beige wall drives me to the brink of my ever-loving sanity! This cumbersome task is anticipated as much as dental work or repairing an ingrown toenail.

Here is a photo of the arm bike and the corner I was put in multiple times a week.

arm bike

The highlight was watching a squirrel run past the window – which looked out onto a parking lot of lonely cars.  Ug.

One day, I walked in wanting this “time out,” as it feels, to be over with as quick as possible.  I blew past my physical therapist and plopped myself down on the pleather seat.  He walked up and smiled.  I squeezed a half-grin out and said, Ten minutes, right?

Yep, he answered looking down at his clipboard.  He programmed the bike and off I went spinning my arms.

Knowing we’re both looking for results, that particular day I thought, Hey, he wants results?  I’ll give him results! I tucked my head down, shut my eyes tight and spun spun spun.  I pedaled with my arms as fast as I could.

Within no time at all my biceps were burning.  The whizzing and whirling of the arm bike revved high, and I bet my arms could have run a 10 minute mile at their speed.

My face grew red and hot and sweat quickly beaded on the nap of my neck, trickling down my back.  I was a madman on that thing.  Unstoppable. Huffing and puffing I flew (figuratively speaking on this stationary arm bike).  I really gave it my all-in-one giant moment of effort.

When I thought my heart would burst from beating, I opened my eyes and looked at the clock on the arm bike, just knowing I had to be almost done by the drama I produced.

One minute, seventeen seconds.

What!?!?!  That had to be wrong. There is absolutely no way I had only spun for one minute, seventeen seconds!  I was sweating profusely, short of breath, arms burning, heart pounding. Discouragement fell on me like a ton of bricks.

Just then, God spoke to me.  His words nearly made me topple off the arm bike.

He told me that this emotional episode is much like how I handle matters of the heart.  I am so results-oriented, I tend to blow through the exercise of walking through life to get to a particular finish line faster so I can move on to the next race.

I look obedient.  I do the “right” things like pray and practice behavior modification for my sinful ways.  But, my heart isn’t necessarily engaged all the time. Okay, it’s not engaged.

He showed me that, just like having to sit on that infuriating arm bike – shoved in the corner – for a full ten minutes, sometimes there are seasons in life that simply must be lived for the duration they are meant to take.  I want to fast forward what makes me miserable, like forgiving someone, waiting on God for an answer, and practicing self-control.  With those things, I simply want to go through the motions on the outside and make myself believe there has been change on the inside.

My recovering arm received no benefit from overworking it in a fraction of the time I was supposed to be exercising it.  The ten minutes have a reason for being there.  It’s to slowly, fully stretch the muscles, tendons and scar tissue in a healthy way that will lead to a full range of motion again.

The same goes for seasons when God puts us in the corner of life to sit through an uncomfortable, and even miserable season of growing, stretching, and perhaps discipline, so our hearts can have full range of motion and emotion so we will, in the end, be drawn closer to Him and look more like His Son.

When we blow through the five stages of grief, or the steps of forgiveness, or a season of His loving discipline, to simply check them off our list – we fool no one.  Not God.  Not ourselves.  Not others.  We just make a lot of unnecessary drama and hurt ourselves in the process.

The other day, my younger son said to me regarding the large, shedding oak trees in our yard during this season of weather’s change, Why can’t all the leaves just fall at once?  Why does it have to take so long, because then we have to keep coming out here over and over again raking them up?

Good question!  I answered, Because if the leaves all fell at once, it would be an overwhelming job.  I know it’s frustrating to have to do the same job again and again, but if they came down at once, they’d be so thick we wouldn’t even know where to begin.  It’s actually better to do this in phases, because then this huge task is manageable and the grass beneath them won’t be smothered and die.

I love the connection between the dreaded arm bike and the dreaded leaf-raking.  Both are big jobs overall, broken down into smaller, more manageable parts that don’t exasperate us – rather they leave us feeling like we actually accomplished something and are stronger for it as we stand back and survey the results.

While driving up to our home this weekend after a trip to the store, I noticed our older son taking his turn with the leaves.  Our neighbor stopped to chat during his walk, and with a smile, he said to me, Don’t you just want to shake ’em?  Don’t you just want to give these trees a good shake so all the leaves will fall already?  I look at all you’ve done, but then I look up (glancing up at the trees) and see so much more still there.

Before the lesson on the arm bike, followed by a short, but metaphorically meaty, discussion about tending the seasons of our trees, I just smiled.  I understood his point, but no, I really don’t want to shake the trees.  Our family’s life can’t handle an enormous, overwhelming task right now. But, we can tackle this monster in steps over time.  Otherwise, and we’ve been here before with these trees when the kids were much younger and time was very limited, we’d look out on a yard knee-high in daunting leaves and be instantly discouraged to the point of quitting.

I’m learning that about seasons of life, too.  God sees the bigger picture of our lives, which our ultimate goal is to look more like His Son.  But, a feat that vast doesn’t happen in one fail swoop.  It happens over the course of moments, days, weeks, months and years.  It is lifelong.  Rather than Him being a God who sits on His throne with a long checklist of achievements we tirelessly try to accomplish, He breaks His purpose for us down into bite-sized pieces we can digest one at a time.

There is no possible way I could have accomplished the physical results of 7 weeks on that frustrating arm bike in one 10-minute stretch.  Our bodies simply don’t work that way.

Neither do our hearts.

God can, and has, healed my heart many times in a moment of His grace and mercy.  But, that has come from the culmination of Him growing, pruning and nurturing my heart to prepare it for a season where healing, forgiveness, tenderness, love, maturing, and strengthening are ready to be harvested.  It is a culmination of the same moments, days, weeks, months and sometimes years of letting Him in and allowing Him to stretch us, challenge us, push us to goals we never would be able to accomplish left to our own human nature.  Our hearts simply don’t work that way.

I’m in a few seasons of discomfort – but’s that’s good!  I feel His hand of grace and mercy, but I also feel Him pressing me on to new places – an adventure that doesn’t allow any baggage.  He’s teaching me the important things to carry with me, and what needs to be left behind.  And for the first time in my life, I’m okay with that.

I’ve tossed the to-do list of the intangibles of the heart, as well as what I define as success in the effort.  Instead of resisting His work in my life, I can settle into seasons that before would have left me in a puddle of tears or frustrated beyond measure.  I would have fought Him all the way and tried relentlessly to change the path – hoping it would still lead me to where He wants me to be.

Now, after many, many sessions on the arm bike (which I still can’t stand) and the ever-present reminder of falling leaves outside my window, dare I say I welcome the seasons that make me wait on God and His timing.  After all, only He truly knows our hearts and when their harvest is ready.

He is such a good God.  He waits patiently on us, understanding our frailty, and sets His watch by His perfect timing – not our earthly clocks.  He knows if He pushes results too soon, our harvest will be unripe – tasteless, hardened and unusable.  If He waits too long, our harvest becomes too ripe and begins to rot by way of discouragement and doubt if God is ever going to finish the task of the season.  He comes at just the right time and gives us a nod and says Now you’re ready.

There are some areas of my life I am desperate to hear those words.  But, if I’m gut-wrenchingly honest with myself, I know I’m not yet ready. That doesn’t mean small steps of progress aren’t being made.  And every time one is taken in the right direction, so small I don’t even notice it, like the slow increasing of my range of motion in my shoulder, God is so kind to point it out.  It’s like He taps me on the shoulder and says with a smile, I see progress – and it’s good.

However patiently we feel we must wait on God, who is holy and faithful, He is infinitely more patient with us in our human nature.  I am embracing the idea of avoiding a massive shakedown like our trees, or a superficial burnout like my shoulder on the arm bike, and I rest in Truth that God is working all things good for me.

Here are Scriptures that help me embrace seasons of life:

Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. ~ Psalm 46:10

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him. ~ Lamentations 3:22-23

… (We) will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. ~ Isaiah 61:3

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. ~ Psalm 139:23-24

But the plans of the LORD stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart for all generations. ~Psalm 33:11

Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him! ~ Isaiah 30: 18

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

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. ~ Psalm 51:10

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. ~ Philippians 4:13

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. ~ Psalm 51:17

I am still 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

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”  ~ God, Isaiah 43:18-19

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. ~ Isaiah 40:31

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path. ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. ~ Ephesians 2:10

As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. ~ Psalm 103:14

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 1:6

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven… ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

Silent Conversations

With the days that may pass quietly on this blog, it is not for a lack of words.  Plenty of conversation is happening, but until now I couldn’t seem open my mouth and speak it.

I have felt so utterly alone in this, and it’s that sense of isolation that has kept me gagged.

See, I have a secret – sort of.  Only a limited number of people know about this…so does it still make it a secret?  It sure feels that way.  This secret is haunting me.  Well, haunting is not the right word…convicting me.

Not through guilt or fear, but a relentless nudging, prodding, and pulling that won’t leave me be.  I’ve been on the run from this for 3 and a half years.  For a season, other weighty matters pressed this way down in my soul, and I could ignore it most days.

Now, and I have no idea why now, it has emerged from the depth of my heart and won’t be silent.

However, there is not just one silent conversation going on in me – there are two.  These are the words…

* * * * * * * * * *

Do this.

I can’t.

She’s right, she can’t and she’s foolish to even consider it.

I know you can’t, but with Me you can.

I just simply can’t.  Please don’t ask me.

I didn’t ask you, I called you.

Why would you call her?  She’s got nothing to offer!

Do this.

But I’m not smart enough.  Strong enough.  I am not enough.

She’s right.  She’s nothing.

I’m nothing.

You are who I say you are, and you are My beloved.

Well, perhaps I am that to You, but that doesn’t mean I can do this.

She can’t do this.

It’s not about what you think you can or can’t do, it’s about what I am going to do through you.

Okay, wait, that’s what I don’t understand.  How can You use me for this?  There are a thousand other people who would do this far better than I ever could.

Yeah, let me name them.  She’s not your girl.

You are Mine, and this is what I have decided – you’re it.

You know I love You, and I’ll do anything for You, but this?  I’m just not good enough.  I don’t know where to go from here.

She’ll go nowhere – that’s where.

You’re halfway there, but you have frozen on the path.  Just take the next step.

Yeah, that next step is off a cliff for her it will be such a disaster!

I am terrified to move my feet.

I know you are, that’s why I am here to walk with you.

You know I want closure with this more than anything right now, but I’ve been stuck for 3 and a half years.  I forgot how to take the next step.

She’ll never do it.

What are you afraid of that I cannot handle for you?

If you really want to know – fear of commitment, failure, success, judgement, rejection, being laughed at, being criticized, not being taken seriously, not getting others’ approval, giving up my privacy, asking “now what” when it’s done.  Most of all, I am terrified at the thought of letting You down.

Letting Me down?  I’ve called you to obedience.  Only I know where to take it from there, and My measure of achievement looks very different from the world’s.

Get serious.  There is no way she is going to go through with this.  There is too much already in a day to do, and she’ll never muster the courage it would take to shut me up long enough to fully listen to You.  She’s not connected, not talented, not anything it takes to do this – especially to Your standard!!!!

I only ask for obedience from you.  The rest is up to Me.  You are making this too hard.  Just take the next step.  Will you trust Me?

* * * * * * * * * *

I suppose sharing this on my blog is taking the next step, because it calls some accountability into play.  Four years ago, God came to me and gave me a task.  One I didn’t understand, but jumped in with both feet.  I got totally lost in His project, and when I finally made it through the forest of His work, I was changed.  He called me to write a Bible study.

Like there aren’t already a bagillon of studies written by much more skilled people than me.  But I cannot deny that He unequivocally called me to do this.  So I did.

When it was finished, I asked a panel of people to take the study and critique it.  This group consists of men and women ranging from their 20’s to their 70’s.  They represent at least five different church denominations, geographical locations and socioeconomic statuses.  It was a great sample of people who generously gave their time and energy to help make this study the best it can be.

Then I asked for our pastor’s blessing on it.  Check.

It’s ready for the next step.  But am I?

Through this process, I have been wounded by some of the enemy’s arsenal and it ain’t pretty.  He doesn’t play fair.  To my surprise, but as my husband lovingly pointed out, negativity is an issue for me.  I’ve been a self-proclaimed optimist my entire life as a tool for surviving a childhood riddled with pain, trauma, crisis, loss and fear.  But somewhere, deep deep inside my spirit, a weakness for negative thinking (as a result of said childhood) is a small, back door for the enemy to creep in through the form of discouragement.

I had no idea how much discouragement can sabotage my thoughts, feelings and actions.  I give in every time and hate that!  Discouragement leads to doubt, which leads to all sorts of condemning thoughts like: Why would anyone give your study the time of day?  Who do you think you are?  Leave this to the professional authors and teachers.  No publisher asked you to do this.  This is the big time – and you’re a small deal.  You’ll make a fool out of yourself.

Frustrated, I admit that I have bought that lie too many times and tucked this study back in the cabinet.

But, as a believer, I cannot tuck God’s voice in the crevice of my heart.  He is irresistible and I love that about Him.  He is speaking, and I must respond with either a yes or a no (her hands tremble as she types).

This will be a true walk of faith – especially because of the second thing He asked of me.  First, He called me to write the study.  Second, He called me to give it away for free.  Yep, free.

He told me it is my offering to Him, and you know what?  I am totally okay with that.  So, with His help to get this study published, the goal is to offer it on this blog, as well as in all of the major book retailers as a downloadable study at absolutely no cost to the reader.

At first, my inner child whined, But it took me soooo long?  I have so much invested in this project.  Free, really? (Not that I wouldn’t WANT to give it away, but typically that’s not done in the book industry.)

His response was undeniable, Every person I call to take this study should have access to it regardless if they have any money to pay for it.

Well okay then.  I just can’t argue with that.  And thinking about this over a few months since He told me this, I have grown to completely embrace this idea and wouldn’t want it any other way.

So, today I get loud about the silent conversations that have been at war within me.  This has been a major preoccupation and has consumed my daily thoughts, to the point where I feel I will be held accountable to Him if I don’t finish this project.  As I lift my foot to take the next step, I do so with utter humility in the covering of His grace, begging for confirmation every moment that He’s with me in this or I’m not doing it (Exodus 33:15-17).  I have no earthly idea what He intends to do with this study, but He has heavenly plans that will be revealed in their sweet time.  He inspired it, wrote it, is pushing for it to be published and will send it to where He intends it to go.

May He give it wings to fly.

What about you?  Have you had similar battles of words in your heart?  Is there something purposeful and biblical that God has asked of you that you know you can’t deny, but don’t know what to do with?  What is that next step He is calling you to?  What keeps you from taking it?

When we take ourselves out of the equation, and remember it’s all about Him, the next step becomes crystal clear.  Thankfully, just like with Moses, Abraham, Joshua, Mary & Joseph, Ruth, Esther, Nehemiah, and so many others in the Bible, God promises He won’t leave us to fend for ourselves.  He doesn’t give us a wink and a grin and says, Good luck with that.  He goes before us to lead; He protects us from behind; and walks along side us for company.

Let’s abandon our notions of success and failure, and realize all over again that all He asks of us is obedience. The results are up to Him.

It feels good to lay my discouragement, doubts and fears on the table and expose them for what they are – lies.  God’s plan is unstoppable, and it’s with joy I jump up and down with hand raised high like a child who excitedly begs to be called on by the teacher saying, Pick me! Pick me!

I want to be a part of what God is doing.  How about you?  Whatever that looks like.  Wherever that leads.  God, give us courage to do what You ask of us. Strengthen us to complete the task. Encourage our wary hearts.  Ignite an unquenchable, thirsty passion in our souls for You and this world You love so much.  I’m all in.  Are you?

The Lunch Date

I was a mess!  Stinky.  Sweaty.  Stressed out.  Family was coming to visit, and there was so much to do to get our house ready for them.

Clutter drives me crazy, but it seems Monday through Friday it is an unwelcome visitor that just doesn’t know when to leave.

Overwhelmed by the amount of work, I couldn’t even make a to-do list (which I love, and have been known to put finished tasks on the list after-the-fact just so I could feel the satisfaction of crossing them off!) because it all made my head spin.  Our family had not found our groove for the new school year; my son’s birthday party was that weekend (an entirely separate to-do list!); and four precious family members were literally en route to our house.

Our extended family doesn’t care what our house looks like, thus I was only going to this much trouble in part for them.  I had surgery just a few weeks before, and I was set on convincing myself, and proving to everyone else, this wasn’t going to stop the normal flow of our lives no matter the toll it took on me.

My heart pounded to the rhythm of the dishwasher, while I blankly stared at the clothes swirling around in the washing machine – as if my icy glare would make the washer work any faster.  Just when I thought it was somewhat manageable to get it all done, I turned around and caught a glimpse of our dirty, stinky dog.  She has this ritual of what we call “moling” in the grass when we walk her.  She doesn’t walk.  She puts her head down, muzzle to the ground, and sticks out her tongue.  Then she takes off on her extendable leash and runs as fast as she can (throwing my back out once and costing me a few trips to the chiropractor, thank you very much) so she can lap up the morning dew off of the grass.  Needless to say, she comes home wet and dirty with leaves and tiny sticks stuck in her fur.  She’s one happy dog.  But she was gross!

So into the laundry sink she went for a rapid home-spa, which with all her drama surrounding bath time I ended up as wet as she was.

Yep.  Stinky.  Sweaty from hauling the vacuum up and down stairs, cleaning floors, dusting, primping pillows, making beds, running errands, etc.  Basically, I was trying to make our home look like no one lived there – which is impossible with five people and one crazy dog – and an African Pygmy Hedgehog to boot.  It definitely couldn’t look like we were in the throws of a new school year, which reeks havoc in all of our lives trying to buy the “right” school supplies on the 10th trip to the store that week.  Not to mention the impending birthday party or the fact that I was down an arm due to the shoulder surgery.

It was quite a feat to haul that vacuum all over creation one-handed, while trying to clean using my less-dominant hand.  Comical to say the least.  But, the real showstopper was when I looked out the window and saw the grass needed mowing.  Yes, one-handed.

There I was, zipping around in circles till dizzy, trying to control a mower that is lightening fast with my weaker arm.  It was challenging to say the least, but I conquered the mower and the grass eventually, though the grass looked like it had been mowed blindfolded.  Oh well.

I looked down at my watch, for the millionth time that morning, and saw it was 11:55am.  Oh no!  In five little minutes I had to be at a friend’s house for lunch.  Really?  Like this?  No way.

I scrambled for my cell phone to tell her I couldn’t come, but as I dialed her number I realized she had already made it – given I was supposed to be there by then.  What to do?

The house wasn’t done.  The food for guests wasn’t planned.  I had more errands to run and company would be on our doorstep in a matter of a few hours.  Not to mention the fact I had dog hair and grass stuck to me.  Dirt and sweat coated my arms and legs.  A baseball cap hid my atrocious hair underneath.  I smelled like a mix of earth, wet dog and baby shampoo.  No make up.  No energy. No time for lunch.  No time to chat.  No guts to say no.

Slipping out of my nasty yard shoes and into flip flops (at the time I thought they were a better choice so as to not leave a trail of grass in my friend’s home) I trudged down to her house not daring to look up at cars passing me by.

At her door, I took a deep, embarrassing breath and knocked.  Two little, angelic faces – about knee and waist height – appeared in the window.  Their shining smiles were only outdone by the excitement their dog showed as he pounced over them to get to the window.

My friend opened the door, and her eyes grew big when she saw me.  I said hello with a sheepish grin.  I was a sight to behold and we both knew it.  Thankfully, she is not a fair-weathered friend.  She is real.  Down-to-earth.  Gracious.  Funny.  Kind.  I couldn’t have shown up to just anyone’s house like this, but I knew she desired my company more than my choice of clothes.

We walked into the kitchen and my feet froze as I gasped!  There before my exhausted body was the most beautiful sight.  Lunch for two.  Real dishes.  Water goblets.  Shiny silverware.  Homemade chicken salad sandwiches with a beautiful spinach salad with strawberries and nuts.  Nestled in the bay window of her kitchen was the most welcoming table I had ever seen.  It was just for her and me.

Her young children, having already eaten, still tried to scam the strawberries off of the plates, but I just laughed.

I found my breath, blinked, and told her that #1, she went to way too much trouble, and #2, now I felt doubly bad for showing up in my humbled guise.

She reassured me it didn’t matter, and because I knew she meant it I knew I could stay and be comfortable.  I pulled out the gorgeous wooden chair with a delicate fabric overlay, and my weary bones sank into the cushioned seat.  She asked a blessing for our food, and I tried not to inhale even the plate as I had skipped breakfast in the name of time.

Nourishment and good conversation hydrated my wilted soul, and before I knew it we were chatting and laughing as the sun’s rays laced the windows and table.  It was truly a scene out of a book.

I was so glad I didn’t cancel on her at the last minute.  Although my watch screamed at me all day that I was late late late; and my shoulder was grumpy and telling me I was overdoing it; and the to-do list taunted and teased me; I needed this time with my friend – even though I had no idea I did.  Our time together was good to the last berry and giggle.  I left feeling stronger and with a tremendous sense of peace that people are more important than to-do lists.  Time with my friend was like a cold glass of water; a nap on rainy day; the smile of a loved one.  It was just what I needed.  Had I been too proud to go because of how I looked and smelled, I would have missed all of the sweet blessings that came out of our time together – both everything she had planned and our spontaneous conversations.

I walked home thinking about how often I cancel on God when He wants to meet with me.  He has planned something extraordinary for us each and every day, but because of being too busy, too tired, too distracted, or too proud (not wanting Him to see me in my sinful estate), I miss the fellowship, intimacy, joy, laughter, healing, company and teaching He has so lovingly designed for our lives.  We miss the peace and strength that comes from drawing from the Living Water, Christ (John 4:13), who is also the Bread of Life (John 6:35).  I have missed so much goodness that comes from spending time with our Abba Father, Creator, Redeemer, Restorer because I considered other tasks more time sensitive or more important that day.  Or, I knew my sin and didn’t want to come to Him all mucky like I was that day with my friend. Later, God, once I’m all cleaned up.  But later never comes.

We can get so wrapped up in our own little worlds, we miss the bigger plan – our destiny – that may lie just around the corner revealed in a conversation with God.  We spin our wheels on things that don’t make an eternal difference.  We stress and strain over tasks that most people never even notice – much less comment on.

That lunch was one of the most precious times I’ve ever spent with a friend.  She invited me and asked me to bring nothing.  She welcomed me in her home despite how dirty I was, and treated me like a queen for no reason at all except that she loves me and wanted to show me so.  It was nothing I deserved or expected, it was a gift given freely.

That is exactly what God does for us.  He plans, prepares and invites us to His table.  He actually wants us to come with empty hands so He can fill them with blessings like joy, peace, encouragement and strength.  He wants nothing from us except to be in communion with us.  To be part of our day, involved in our stuff, so He can bear the burden and share the load.  He wants to show His love for us, but too often I’ve left Him sitting at a table for one.

It was that lunch date that changed my thinking about spending time with God.  It revealed the pride that holds me back.  The mis-prioritizing of tasks that leaves my head spinning and stomach churning.  The giant hole in my heart that aches until the only One who can fill it, pours His living water into it and fills my soul.

Even though I’ve been walking with God for a long time, I need to be reminded that I can make things unnecessarily complicated between Him and me.  The game of hide-and-seek is all me.  He’s not hiding from me at all.  Rather, He’s waiting for me and for you.  Waiting for us to come, just as we are, and respond to the invitation.  To relationship with Him over our own special table for two.  He sits and waits eternally patient on His children, because He will never leave.  He can’t because He cannot break His own oath to Himself – even when we cancel on our end.

Meeting with Him is not about checking yet another obligation off the to-do list.  It’s about responding to an invitation, just like my friend’s, and coming with open hands and hungry hearts.  He just wants to be with us.  Every day.  The table is set.  He is waiting to listen and to speak.  To laugh and cry with us.  To dream and plan with us.  To discipline and disciple us.  To challenge and to hold us.

Will you join Him?

The Broken Down Blessing

There was a time when my van breaking down while running errands would have really stressed me out. When the smell of electrical wires burning, and the odd hum under the hood, would’ve sent me spinning. When having to interrupt my husband’s late work night to come rescue me would’ve agitated me. When having to call on help for a ride for my kids, AND that I had to ask their friend and classmate giving them the ride to finish running a very important errand for me, would have turned my stomach in fear I was bothering her. When, in calling the destination of my errand, my voice would’ve cracked from bad nerves suffocating it that I was inconveniencing him with my tardiness.

When the sheer thought of being stuck for 3 hours would’ve made me anxious beyond measure. And when the rain came on cue, I would’ve said, “Well it figures!” and thrown up my hands in defeat. When having to call and tell the committee that I was going to miss our monthly meeting because I was stranded would’ve made me just plain mad…not to mention sour over missing the gelato they were going to enjoy. When sitting in my van, helpless, watching cars go by, I would’ve been frantic that I had less than 10% cell phone battery and my kids needed directions at home regarding the dinner I made – and a reminder to begin their homework.

When, thinking about my friend, whose car was randomly shot at the other night, bullet hole in the driver’s door and all, while he sat at a red light, would’ve made me paranoid to sit with my broken vehicle. When having NOTHING to do for ALL that time would’ve made me crawl out of my skin! When watching 5 cars pull up next to me and total ignore my circumstance would’ve tickled my cynic’s ears and reaffirmed the thought that there is no good left in the world.

BUT, such was not the case tonight. God has brought me, by His grace, to a place where peace can be found in the most unexpected situations. This is the perspective He covered me in…

Thank goodness I was in the less trafficked, turn lane of the intersection so as to not disrupt rush hour for everyone one. Thankful God told me to stop at the light and turn off the engine when the strange smell crept into my van – followed by visible smoke rising from under the hood – even though I had one more important stop to make. Thankful that God let my husband leave when he did and avoid wet streets late at night, tired from a hard day’s work.

Thankful that my kids have generous friends who are willing to be very inconvenienced to help with a smile. Thankful all four teens got to finish my errand, which involved blessing a very special gentleman who is grieving the loss of his wife. It’s good for youth to help people younger and older than them. It’s good for them to help.

Thankful the rain kept the temperatures down because it would’ve been a real bummer if I was stuck in horrible heat. Thankful for some unexpected time to sit and be still. Just sit. And. Be. Still.

Thankful that I have friends I serve with who are flexible, loving and understand the crazy side of life as well as my absence from the meeting. Friends who offered a laugh, encouraging words, and camaraderie that reminded me I am not alone in this world – even if I sit alone in a broken down van. Pondering the wonderful lunch I had just hours earlier with a new friend, thoughts about our conversation over burritos brought a smile to my face as I contemplated the wise counsel she gave me.

Thankful that God knew how much cell battery I needed to communicate with my husband and children, and how just like the oil in the widow’s jar in the Old Testament didn’t run out when it was all she had, neither did my cell battery. And, even if it had, I trust Him to know my needs and take care of me in the creative, unique ways He does every day.

Thankful that I had already made dinner and had it completely ready when the kids came home, so very hungry, to an empty house. Thankful they had a house to come home to and food to eat. Thankful that, just as God protected my friend who was shot at, nothing can happen to me that hasn’t already been known to the Father. And, even if something bad did happen, it would have been worked into my life for good and His glory. There was a time I didn’t believe that. Couldn’t accept that. Wouldn’t accept that.

Thankful for unscheduled time to simply sit and watch a gorgeous sunset I would have otherwise missed. Literally. I would have been driving in the opposite direction of it if my van had not started smoldering. Instead, I got to watch clouds play chase against a pink and yellow backdrop of His expansive, eternal glory. Thankful that the 6th car did stop, and like the Good Samaritan, this sweet woman reassured my spirit that it only takes one person’s help to encourage and strengthen a weary heart.

Thankful for a sense of humor to laugh at the whole mess. Thankful I own a van to break down. Thankful that after owning it for 7 years, this is first problem we’ve ever had with it. Thankful for all of the unseen events that were thwarted that may not have been good for me had I stayed on task. Only God knows all of the whys that this had to happen tonight. It’s not my concern as to why, but I will bask in the goodness of Him because from where I’m sitting, the blessings outweigh the bad in this hiccup today.

Thankful my husband and I could laugh, in the dark and drizzling rain, that we had an unexpected date night. It wasn’t dinner and a movie – it was better. We had nothing to do while waiting for a tow than to talk. A full conversation can be elusive at times in this season of life, so I relished in the fact we got to finish our thoughts, discuss the day and simply enjoy being together.

Still, there is something really special about this night that makes me grateful the whole thing happened. The story really begins when the tow truck arrived…

tow truck

When the tow truck finally pulled around the corner, and my husband and I breathed a collective sigh of relief, it led to a divine conversation with the tow truck driver. It was late and we were tired and hungry, so I sat in my husband’s car while he helped orchestrate the towing with the driver. I texted the kids on my charging phone while I sat warm and safe in his car.

He, however, had the best conversation with the driver.

I’m not sure how the conversation began, but the driver told my husband that many years ago, he wanted to go to a church that had all of the bells and whistles of “entertainment.” Now that he is a husband and father, he “wants needs solid biblical teaching” regardless of the environment. My husband agreed that biblical teaching is the most important aspect and encouraged him in his quest to find a solid church home.

Then, the driver looked at my husband and asked, How do you do it? My kids are only 6 and 8, and yours are all teenagers. How do you continue to teach them God’s way when they are older and not have them resent or ignore you?

My husband replied, You have to make some things non-negotiable. For example, going to church on a regular basis.

The man was deeply searching for Truth. Answers. Help. Can I just say that I highly respect this man! Here he is, trying so hard to be a good father, he is open to receiving a good word of counsel – even from a stranger whose van he is towing. Wow, what would this country, this world, look like if dads and moms took their parenting responsibilities this seriously? I tip my hat to this man and know beyond a doubt God will honor his quest in godly parenting.

My husband saw the look of longing in the man’s eyes. A look of insecurity. A lack of self-confidence. He smiled at the man and said, Keep searching for a church home until God leads you to one, but mostly, live your faith. If your kids seeing you do what you want them to do – they’ll be alright.

They shook hands with hearty smiles, and the man repeatedly thanked my husband for his time to talk. The van was ready for the tow. Off went my second office to vehicle urgent care.

On the ride home, my husband told me about their conversation. I have to admit, I was really disappointed that I stayed in the comfort of his car and missed all the action. I asked God why things played out like they did because I wanted to add a few of my own thoughts to their conversation.

God clearly answered me. He told me that this conversation was not meant for me. In fact, He told me this whole evening wasn’t about me. It was for the tow truck driver.

Wow.

Everything I went through was to set up this man for a beautiful blessing. What would God have thought of me if I had pitched an ever-loving fit through this ordeal? Here He was positioning the driver and my husband for a divine appointment, and what if I had thrown a tantrum in my flesh? I can almost hear Him say, Can you just get over yourself and stop whining for a second? I’m trying to do something big here and you’re not helping! Instead, by God’s grace, He made the evening one of peace, joy and purpose.

I saw that my purpose was to step out of the way this time – even if it meant enduring the tense moments of a rigid timeline. There was a time when I would have seen that as not being fair to me. After all, I didn’t even get to be part of the ending – which was the real point to the night! But, because of God’s faithfulness to me, I was reminded that what’s a few hours of my time if someone else’s faith could be encouraged and strengthened? Really! I mean, this saga didn’t go on forever. It’s ancient history now. It was a momentary blip on life’s radar. I’m okay. The van is fixed. It’s all good. And, it was all completely worth it to hear an incredible story of a conversation that encouraged a man, we otherwise never would’ve met, in the great job he was doing as a dad. In fact, he encouraged me that there are men still seeking God’s wisdom for their families.

This was a tricky day with lots going on and many people were affected by my van breaking down. But, God met every need in His best way. This situation was meant to be a conduit of His love to someone who needed to know God is for this man and his family, and that his heart is the best witness to his children. So very cool.

The one thing I would’ve done differently as I look back at the day is that I would have gone to the bathroom before I left the house. Three hours is a long time to wait! EEK! Another lesson learned. 🙂

The pursuit of healing

With my 7th lifetime surgery now behind me, the 4th in the last 5 years, I turn my attention toward physical therapy in hopes to be back to normal – only better.  I love my physical therapists, but am annoyed at the inconvenience it is to stop everything multiple times a week and go.  I don’t say anything out loud, because I am grateful for healthcare and that I am on the other side of surgery, but inside I throw a fit at how laborious and irrelevant this process feels.

Today, I schlepped in as always, with a smile, and breathed a big “here we go again” breath.  I made a point not to complain to the therapists because I am certain they’ve heard it all before. Yet, perhaps it’s the gray skies or drizzly rain or unusually cool temps that set me up, and for the first time I did complain.  Lying on my back on the hard, pleather table, staring at into the awful, harsh fluorescent lights above, while working out the exercises I was instructed to do, I said, “I just want the pain to finally stop.  I mean, I’ve been living with this pain in my shoulder for years and finally did something about it.  However now that the surgery is over, this p/t is making it hurt worse than ever.  I just want the pain to finally be gone.”

The therapist smiled and agreed in a nice way, though I’m sure I’m not the first or last to voice my frustration.

Then I began to think about this whole process and found a gap.  I asked her, “Why is it that when I am at home, I am able to do almost everything I could before – only a week out of surgery – and feel very little pain, but when I come here and do the exercises you instruct it really hurts?  I mean, I’m doing laundry, loading and unloading the dishwasher, making the bed, walking the dog, able to wash my own hair, etc.  I thought these were pretty good home therapy measures.  Don’t they count?”

Her answer was simple, but it explained a lot.  She said, “When you are doing your normal life at home, you stay in middle range of motion.”  She demonstrated some chores to show me that none of them require me to stretch my limits, literally.  They all stay within a pain-free zone, if you will.  “What we want is to push you to your limit.  That’s what’s going to give you full range of motion again.  What you are doing at home is fine, but you need these exercises to push you to your max to complete the healing.”

While I completed the circuit of exercises, I thought about what she said.  It made so much sense from a physical standpoint, but also from a spiritual one.

When something in our lives is injured, broken or hurting, either by someone else’s (un)intentional injury or our own emotionally degenerative heart, we approach the Master Healer for help.  What we are really asking for is a cure without any cost.  We want a broken heart mended, to have more patience, see our obvious purpose revealed, receive guidance and grow wiser – all without cost or discomfort to us. We think that as long as we admit there is a problem and want God’s help, poof!, it will be done and we get to move on with our lives.

Or, we don’t seek God’s help and try to go straight from hurting to healed in one fail swoop.  We think that what we are doing on our own is enough, when in reality we aren’t able to bring ourselves to where we need to be to be healed – because we simply can’t inflict pain on ourselves – even if it means it will make us better.  We stay stuck in the mid-range, comfortable zone.

Either scenario is not a prescription for ultimate healing.  If we allow God to work in our lives, we must be willing to count the cost of it being inconvenient; take longer than we’d like it to; pull us away from what we’d rather be doing in our flesh to where we need to be in our spirit; and be willing to be pushed to limits we didn’t know we had because we are so used to our mid-range comfort zone.

Trying to heal our hearts and lives on our own leaves scars, pain and unfinished business.  Trust me, after a very bad fall on our street in 2010, but seeking no medical help, my knee has an obvious scar and there is now (compliments of a recent xray – too little too late) a piece of my wrist bone floating in tissue that broke off in the fall that painfully catches my muscles and nerves.  I’ll always wonder what could’ve been a better outcome if I had just been humble enough to seek help.

I read today that a beautiful woman inside and out, full of potential, committed suicide in her quest to find love and attention.  I am so sad for her family and friends, and sad for her that she gave up trying to fix herself.  If only she could’ve sought healing through Jesus Christ who bore our afflictions, illnesses and failures for us on the cross.

He is right there, holding out His own scarred hand, offering us help.  He knows what we need and when we need it.  He is on our side.

Will I still grumble about having to make the next months of my life centered around p/t appointments?  Probably.  But, I will now go with a fresh perspective of a heart check, not just a shoulder check by asking myself these questions:

* Can I acknowledge there is something wrong?

* Am I willing to admit I need His help?

* Am I avoiding the work God wants to do in my life?

* Will I count the cost of my time, energy and emotions to allow God room to work?

* Will I not quit even if it is painful?

* Will I listen to God and follow His instructions?

* Can I accept the help He is trying to give me through prayer, His Word, or others?

The physical therapist is right on all counts.  I need her.  I need her to hold me accountable for showing up and putting forth the effort; to show me ways that I can work my shoulder back to its best; and accept her encouragement along the way.

The heart is much more involved.  The process is layered.  Sticky.  Complicated.  If we run away and hide, we hurt ourselves.  If we ignore the problem it will only get worse.  If we treat it halfway we will never know what our best could be.  If we let God in, daring Him with the deepest places of pain (like when the therapist stretches the joint that is healing in my shoulder), He will always work in our best interest.  His Word, the Bible, tells us so.  We can trust God because God is love.

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love…

1 John 4:16

Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

For the word of God is living and active.  Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to diving soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.  Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight.  Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.   Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, be we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin.  Let us approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in out time of need.

Hebrews 4:12-16

Trust in the LORD with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path. 

Proverbs 3:5-6

This is what the LORD says: ‘Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way it, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

Jeremiah 6:16

The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy.  I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly. 

~ Jesus, John 10:10

Breath in the storm

Sunday afternoon, our family sat quietly at a piano recital listening to children play the pieces they had worked so hard on for so long.  Rumbles of thunder echoed across the sky.  Sitting in a small church on this dreary, drizzly day listening to the sweet songs of children’s fingers dance with piano keys was soothing and restful…until…

The piano teacher introduced a young man who was about to play.  However, he wanted his performance to be dedicated to his friend, a fellow piano student, who would not be playing that day.

She suffered a tragic accident the day before.  Sleeping on the top bunk of her bunk beds, with no railing, she fell from the top bunk in her sleep.  She suffered several breaks in her back.

As the teacher told us this, with stained glass illuminating what sun was trying to peek through and kneeling prayer pads tucked underneath the chairs, my sleepy daze was shaken.  It was as though I could hear the thud and screams of that terrified little girl.  The cries and panic of the parents.  The wail of the ambulance and hustling of the family at 2 a.m. to gather their things to leave for the hospital.  As a mom, my hearts breaks and I pray, but still my heart is traumatized by something I neither witnessed or ever met this precious little girl now in the hospital.

Monday morning, reading the local paper, a photo of a teenager in a wheelchair caught my attention.  He is 17, and only 1 1/2 years ago found out he has leukemia.  One minute life is normal, the next the school nurse calls his dad and says something is wrong.  Now, having been through this nightmare for 18 months, he says he feels forgotten by his peers.  He says he doesn’t want to fight.  How it tears apart his parents to not be able to heal him, help him, give their hope to him.  How emotions must rage in their hearts to know their son feels forgotten.  I am broken for this young man, unrecognizable by his classmates because of chemo and the battering of his body by leukemia.  As a mom, my hearts breaks for him and his family and all families suffering the plight of cancer.

Then later Monday  came news of little lives are lost in a massive tornado.  No one knew when waking up and getting ready for school that for many families, this day will tear their hearts apart forever.  Innocence swept away with homes.  Hope crushed beneath the rubble that buries their young lives.  What mind can conceive of the devastation let alone the fact that many will never do life with their loved ones again – this side of heaven for those who follow Christ.  The pictures, the stories, the videos.  It’s too much.

Boston was too much.

China’s earthquake was too much.

Sri Lanka’s building collapse was too much.

We barely have time to catch our breath in between catastrophes.  We still replay the bombs blowing up at finish line; the elderly sitting in the middle of ruin that used to be their home; the photo of a couple embraced to their death in the fallen building, and now haunting images from Oklahoma sweep us up in their wake and we find no relief.  No answers.  No reason.  No breath.

We barely breathe in between tragedies, and in the middle of our hearts breaking for people we’ve never met, somewhere in the deepest of hearts we wonder if our families are next.  What will be the next act of horror?  It just doesn’t stop, like rolls of the tide, it comes and comes and comes.

We are at a loss for words.  What do you say to parents who suffer unfathomable loss of their children?  How do we console what is inconsolable?  How do we help put hearts back together that are scattered among the rubble of what used to be neighborhoods and schools and community?

There are no words.

I know there are no words.  I lived through a different kind of storm, but one that took everyone I loved and everything I owned.  As a survivor, there is a sense of responsibility to go back and sift through the wreckage of lives – be it from a storm, a collapsed building, an earthquake, cancer or a bunk bed.

But what do we say?  There are no words.

It’s not so much what we say, it’s what we do.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says it best,

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.

It’s what we have to give.  We can give our money, time, energy and words of encouragement.  Those are a huge help.  But, the everlasting help we can offer is to share the comfort we ourselves have received from God.  It’s in our prayers, an arm around their shoulders, an ear to listen, a heart to cry with, a shoulder to lean on.  Comfort is action.

That means with audacious prayer we stand in the gap for those hurting because not only do we know suffering, but we know that God brought us through it and He can do the same for them.  We can call upon Him on their behalf, because we know He did not leave us in our darkest times and He will not leave them.

There are many kinds of storms.  Some hit hard and fast and leave as swiftly as they come.  Some last days, weeks, months in illness.  Some last years for those trapped in human trafficking.  With every type of storm that rages, suffering is something that we have in common without regard to race, ethnicity, creed or lifestyle.  Compassion and comfort is something all of us can give to help.

There are no magical words to take the pain away.  But, there is comfort that we have received and can share to help them through their storm.  Comfort that allows the hurting, panic-stricken, grieving, those barely surviving to catch their breath – until the storm has passed.

The lunchbox

DSC_0002

The account of Jesus feeding the 5,000 is renown.  From preschool to the pulpit, this historical event has been told and retold for the glory of God.  However, there is someone in this true story that remains a mystery. Someone who has always captivated my curiosity.  Since God has chosen this season for our family to travel on global mission to Kenya, Ukraine and now this year’s mission, the mystery of the unnamed person takes on a new light to me.

I don’t want to take away one ounce of awe and wonder at what Jesus did that day in this post.  In fact, the goal is to continue to make much of Him – albeit differently than I’ve heard before about this passage of Scripture.

Read with me John 6:1-13

6 Some time after this, Jesus crossed to the far shore of the Sea of Galilee (that is, the Sea of Tiberias),2 and a great crowd of people followed him because they saw the signs he had performed by healing the sick. 3 Then Jesus went up on a mountainside and sat down with his disciples. 4 The Jewish Passover Festival was near.

5 When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” 6 He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.

7 Philip answered him, “It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!”

8 Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, 9 “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?”

10 Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there). 11 Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.

12 When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” 13 So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.

We read of several people involved in this awesome account – except one.  The person who made the little boy’s lunch – presumably his mother, but even if it were his father or grandparent or sibling, the message is still the same.

Someone took the time to do two things for this little boy.  One, they made time to let him go hear Jesus.  We don’t know his age, but perhaps there were chores he could have been doing or he simply could’ve played with his friends. Someone let him go hear Jesus teach.

Two, they were forward-thinking and packed him a lunch so he would be equipped to stay for as long as Jesus was teaching.

There are so many unanswered questions like…

* When Andrew brought the boy and his lunch into the solution, was his mother standing right there, too, so close to Jesus and the disciples?  Probably not.  The 5,000 headcount refers to men.  Women and children not withstanding.  I would guess they sat on the fringe of where the men sat.

* Who prepared the fish for him?  That seems like a task an adult would have done.

* Who taught him to share?  Notice the boy didn’t put a fight about turning over his lunch.  I have two boys, and let me tell you when they are hungry – they are hungry and looking for food to consume.  So, if everyone else was already hungry, wasn’t he, too?

* Was he alone, or did he have siblings or friends with him?  If he had siblings with him, would not they have had a lunch, too?

Hmm.  My mind wanders to endless curiosities (it drives my family crazy sometimes. :))  Back to the point.

Someone, let’s assume it was his mother by what we know of family dynamics back in that time period, prepared that little boy for the long haul.  She packed him a lunch and gave him permission to go.

Traveling on mission with our children, I can relate a lot to this mom.

* Jesus is irresistible.  If He were coming to town, you’d better believe I’d have my kids there quicker than any music concert or midnight movie premier.  But, these days He works differently.  He isn’t seen on a grassy mountainside, but He is very much still teaching and performing miracles.  I don’t want my kids to miss a single moment they were destined to be a part of.

* Our children’s “lunchboxes” are crafted from the times we’ve poured Christ into their lives via prayer, conversation, Bible study, attending church, serving for Him, buying them devotionals, dedicating them as babies, and encouraging their faith in both subtle and direct ways in their 24/7/365.  We try hard not to take any minute for granted, and do what we can to spur them on in their faith – even when that means we show our weaknesses and frailties.

* We let them go.  For now, they go on mission with us (and sometimes without us, though well chaperoned). We allow experiences that are uncomfortable – even undesirable – if it means they meet Jesus in that moment. Our culture is dangerously soft in all ways.  We are consumed with the idolatry of comfort.  We want to play, eat and do whatever we want to.  Hard work is nearly obsolete in the generation behind us.  Example, (and this isn’t even for hard work – just plain work) I was in the grocery store recently when I walked up to the checkout clerk an asked him to page my husband since we didn’t have our phones with us and I needed his help.  There wasn’t a soul around and this teenage guy had nothing to do but stand there and wait for someone to check out.  He looked at me, without blinking, and said, “I could, but I just don’t want to.  If you could go up to customer service that’d be great.”  Infuriating, right?

One of the biggest disservices parents of my generation are doing is trying to get their kids to believe life is easy, they should be rewarded for nothing, and they should have their way every time.  When the real world slaps them silly whether it be in college, at their first job interview, or when they are evicted for not paying rent because they don’t have a job, they will feel not only defeated, but betrayed – by their parents.  Why didn’t you tell me.  Teach me.  Warn me.  Show me, are thoughts rolling around in their heads as our teens are setting new records of stress, drug addition, suicide, drinking, nervous breakdowns, burnout and prescription drug dependency.  I dread becoming old and depending on this generation to take care of me by way of voting on sketchy laws, working in nursing homes and other places I may need their help, and respecting the elderly in general.

No, I am not afraid to let my children have appropriately uncomfortable experiences like when our youngest couldn’t sleep on the long flight to Kenya.  It was hard to watch him not be able to settle down, but he survived.  Or when we were served food in Kenya that we had no idea what it was, and I looked at our daughter across the table with my mother’s eyes staring and silently said, “Smile.  Eat it.  Be thankful.”  We Americans have no idea how rude it would have been to say to the people who sacrificed their own food and poverty-level earnings to cook for us, Oh, my child won’t eat this, or doesn’t like this.  Do you have something else?  Not only does that give Christ a black eye as His ambassador, but it deeply harms cultural relations as Americans are viewed in a selfish, rude light.  I teach my children to be thankful for what they are given, because I know how it feels to work hard on a meal to which a young guest casually replies, I don’t eat that.  

I wanted to shout Amen! when our pastor said he doesn’t understand why parents are afraid to ask their 13 year-old to take out the garbage.  On mission, our kids must carry their weight even more than when we’re home.  Why?  It’s not because we are mean parents, it’s because we’re all asked to carry our own weight, and it’s hard work.  We’re all tired.  We’re all hungry.  We do help them out, but that is different from saving them every time they’re asked to do a job they don’t want to do or are tired of doing.  Teamwork – yes!  Enabling – no.

Why go through all of this anyway?  Bruce and I have a few thoughts on this for our children:

(1) More than anything, we want our children to follow God wherever He leads.  Toughening them now helps equip them for the future God has for them.  It also helps them erase limits and believe the impossible with God.  If anyone had told me even 3 years ago we’d being going  on global missions, I would have laughed!  I never want our kids to live within self-imposed boundaries that have held me captive my entire life.

(2) We want them to position themselves for God’s work.  That little boy with the 2 fish and 5 barley loaves made his way through the crowd directly to the inner circle of Jesus and the disciples.  We want our children to have a front-row seat to what Jesus is doing.

(3) We want them to be a part of whatever Jesus is doing – more than an onlooker, we want them to be in the middle of it.  Taking them on mission now equips them for mission trips they may take when they are grown or any ministry He has for them.  We want them to be comfortable jumping in with both feet.

(4) We want them to recognize the needs of others and want to be a part of the solution.  The little boy knew everyone was hungry because mostly likely he was hungry, too.  He surrendered his lunch for the good of the cause.  We want our kids, in the same way, to surrender their time, energy and resources to the cause of Christ without hesitation or reservation.

(5)  The days are evil and will become more so as the clock of history winds down.  Take a look at the snapshot Paul gives Timothy of what humanity will look like in the last days:

2 Timothy 3:1-5 But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. 2 People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3 without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, 4 treacherous, rash, conceited,lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— 5 having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people. (NIV)

(The Message) Don’t be naive. There are difficult times ahead. As the end approaches, people are going to be self-absorbed, money-hungry, self-promoting, stuck-up, profane, contemptuous of parents, crude, coarse, dog-eat-dog, unbending, slanderers, impulsively wild, savage, cynical, treacherous, ruthless, bloated windbags, addicted to lust, and allergic to God. They’ll make a show of religion, but behind the scenes they’re animals. Stay clear of these people.

(King James Version) This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. 2 For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, 4 Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; 5 Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

No matter how we slice and dice the translation, did your eyes glaze over this list like mine did simply because it doesn’t phase us?  This is our normal.  This is what we know.  Imagine how shocking it must have been for Timothy to read it.  How his eyes must have widened and a gasp heard under his breath while a cold chill ran down the back of neck as he read these “terrible” things.  Yet, I read it and say with a sarcastic tone, “…And…so what?” because I am desensitized by its commonness.

No one knows when the sun will rise for the last time, but we want our children to be fully aware of the times, making the most of every opportunity. (Ephesians 5:15 – 16, Be very careful, then, how you live-not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.)

Jesus said it best in Matthew 10:16, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.  Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.  Missions certainly gives a lot of practice with this!

(6) We want to teach our children to look for Christ in the crowd, to follow where He leads, to be part of the solution, and believe His miracles as all of this helps strengthen their foundation of faith.

When on mission, God’s presence is real in a very different way than in our normal grind.  He’s still there in the every day, but too often either we forget to look for Him because we are busy spinning on our hamster wheels, or we fail to see Him because we are positioned toward the back of the fighting line.  Yes, God gives our kids opportunities in their every day to take a stand for Him, serve Him and seek Him (they have AMAZING witnessing stories they share with us at school and other places of how God sets divine appointments), but ask anyone on mission and they will say the same…spiritual battles are very in your face on mission.  The more we teach our children while they are growing about what spiritual battles look like, and how to fight them in Jesus’ Name, the more they will be ready to fight them as an adult when they have left the nest.

There is a whole lot to learn packed in this one account of Jesus feeding the 5,000.  Today, we looked at one of the people whose name is omitted.  The anonymous lunch packer working for the benefit of their child.

This reminds me of God’s promise to David regarding Solomon in 1 Chronicles 17:11,

When your days are over and you go to be with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom.

He was referring to all that Solomon would do after David.

Relating this to our children, we seek not that they build their own kingdom, but that they are part of building the Kingdom of God by way of going into all nations as commissioners for Christ (Matthew 28:18-20).  If you ask Bruce, his mantra is this – I want our kids to do more for Christ than we’ll ever do in our lifetime!  

Our lives were half over before we caught the vision of global missions.  Our kids already have such a huge head start on us!  Yeah!  When we asked them to pen their thoughts on what missions means to them, something our youngest wrote sums this point up best…

“Now that I have both experiences in more rural countries and more westernized countries, I feel better equipped to be able to evangelize in most cultures.”

He is merely a tween.  I get teary every time I think about how God is equipping them both for today and for their futures.  It’s so exciting to be a part of it!

I am grateful for the person who packed that boy’s lunch and let him go, and in doing so has greatly encourage me to do the same.  To meet this Man, Jesus Christ, that is crazy in love with the world – even those who have never heard His name…yet.

We will continue to pack their lunchboxes and let them go meet Jesus for as long as God allows.  This may be across the street, across town, or across the globe.

I want to do everything I can as a parent to position them for miracles that still happen today.  I want them to see Jesus up close and personal – within arm’s reach.  To hear His voice, know His smell, and catch His passion for helping others.  I want our kids to be so close to Jesus that they see His smile as He watches onlookers be amazed at His power.  I want them to be so close to Him that they hear Him laugh under His breath as people see Jesus with fresh eyes that He loves them, cares for them, and wants to help them.

Any of us would agree that if we had been the parent on duty that day, we would have wanted our child exactly where this little guy was – not at home or with friends or in the back of the crowd.  We have to believe this moment changed this little boy’s life.  It’s still changing lives today.  He carried this moment for the rest of his life saying, It was my lunch.  Mine.  Jesus used my lunch to feed 5,000 people!  Changed indeed.

Changed is what Bruce and I desire for our kids.  We want them to shoot far beyond the American dream, overcome their obstacles, and seek God with a passion that keeps them pursuing Him for the long haul. Through taking them on mission, we provide the lunchbox and let them go.  God packs the miracles.  What an honor it is to watch it unfold.

When reading our son’s words again above, I think I share the same smile as the mom who packed the boy’s lunch that day.  As a mom, she was busy.  She could’ve played this out a hundred different ways, but she chose to pack a lunch and send him to go to Jesus where He was – on a mountainside.

God’s given each of us parents a lunchbox to pack for our children. How will we use it?

Where is the hand of God?

There are times when I am reminded of how fragile life is.  Yesterday, the horrific events in Boston was one of those times.  I, like many, need to hear comforting Truth that God is still with us – loving, looking after, and tending to our lives.

As I stepped outside today, this new bird’s nest caught my eye.  Protected by walls on each side, this nest is tucked away from the street’s view.  It has been tenderly crafted to hold life.

This nest carries such a deep image for me that I wanted to pass it along.

Bird's nest

God led me to see His hand is like this nest.  Holding.  Protecting.  Nurturing.  Providing.  Sheltering.  Covering.  Loving.

Then, just to prove His point even more, as I balanced on a step stool photographing this nest, out of nowhere came the mamma or daddy bird.  It was so upset I was near its nest!  It chirped, flew swift fly-by’s and clearly let me know that its presence was there.

God is in this moment to me.  His hands hold us.  His eyes watch over us.  His Presence never leaves us.

Even when we don’t see Him with our eyes – He’s there.  May we feel the warmth of His hands, look for His Presence, and rest knowing He is watching over we who are a part of this big world that He so loves.

Where is the hand of God?  It is around us sheltering us, beneath us holding us, and over us covering us.  Perhaps sometimes we can’t see it because everything we can see is viewed through the lens of His hands.  He so cares about our lives that the filter of His hands colors everything we see with His grace and mercy.

A few verses for today and every day….

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me. ~ Isaiah 49:16

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,my God, in whom I trust.” ~ Psalm 91:1-2

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. ~ Psalm 139:8-10

Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings… ~ Psalm 17:8

I love you, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. ~ Psalm 18:1-2

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; 

indeed, he who watches over (you)

will neither slumber nor sleep. ~ Psalm 121:1-4

Goodbye, Hello

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people… Galatians 6:9-10

This week has been filled with an array of emotions.  Some have been great like when something really cool happened to one of our children at school.  Some have been really low as we mourn the loss of a dear friend.

This friend was one of a kind.  He lived an exceptional life of service to the Lord and was an inspiration to many. Although he was elderly, he seemed timeless to me.  He was a staple at church and in his faith.  The world has lost a godly man.

The night before his celebration of life service, I sat in a room by myself and cried wept.  My heart spilled tears down my cheeks over the thought of never praying with, or enjoying the conversation of, this man again this side of heaven.  He was like a grandfather to me.

On the day of his service, I squandered my time, procrastinating the inevitable shower I needed.  I delayed his service as long as possible, which nearly made me miss it.  I just couldn’t bring myself to get ready and go. Going means goodbye – and I didn’t want to say goodbye to him.

I really dreaded going.  I’ve buried many people I love, and I loved this man.  Everyone did. He was family to my family.  My heart is broken.

I expected the service to run its course, then my oldest child and I would leave and muster the energy to return to our normal grind – though normal is the last thing that the day felt like.  However, one story the pastor shared about our friend will always stick with me…

He and our friend have gone to the Caribbean with a team of men from our church for the last 20 years to build all kinds of structures for churches there. I admire their tenacity in their golden years to continue such physically laborious work.  He said that one year many years ago, our friend (in his 60′s at the time) spent the days of the mission trip going house-to-house, all alone, evangelizing to everyone he met.  When he returned to their base camp, our pastor noticed his pants were torn and knees scraped and bloody.

What happened to you? he asked.

Oh, well I was knocking on doors up that mountain and fell down it.  I rolled all the way down the mountain, he replied.  They had lunch, then he went right back out to the streets and continued knocking.  He was unstoppable for Christ.

As much as I want to be surprised at this story, I’m not.  This was who he was.  Faithful to the task at hand for the Gospel whether in the States, in the Caribbean, or in the other parts of the world that he traveled.

Hearing about these men’s mission trips made me think about this upcoming one for our family.  When the service was over, this year’s mission trip was heavy on my mind – as well as thoughts of my dear friend.

A special friend from our Kenya trip came over to me and offered a smile.  I was so glad to see her.  She and her husband are mission mentors to me.  They are shining examples of what we hope Bruce’s and my retirement years will look like (Lord willing) – going anywhere God leads them to for the cause of Christ.

She speaks with her heart, so I told her what was on my mind – looking for a word of comfort or encouragement.

I said to her, How am I going to go to this place and help these fragile orphans for 13 days?  How does one go for just 13 days?  It’s like, Hi – nice to meet you…then Bye – have a nice life!  How do I do that?  These babies and children in their medical crises have NO ONE coming for them!!!  They don’t get to go home and receive love and care from a mom and dad.  They don’t have sisters and brothers to support them and help them.  They are alone.  How does my nurturing mother’s heart do this for just 13 short days?  God hasn’t put it on our hearts to adopt any children at this point, so isn’t it cruel to make connections with these precious children then leave? How am I going to ever go?

She smiled her comforting smile and said, When our friend that we mourn today was in the Caribbean on one of their trips, he led a man to Christ.  Remember, the pastor in his eulogy told us that this man was originally from India and eventually traveled back to his homeland.  There in India, he began to spread the Gospel.  We know that at least 5,000 people have accepted Christ, and 20 Christian libraries have begun.  We’ll never know the ripple effect of how many people’s lives have been changed because our friend shared the Gospel with just one person on one trip.  Sometimes, we are only called for 13 days.  God takes it from there.  Like our friend, while you are on mission, give it everything.  Give yourself completely to the task – even if it is to just one.  This is all the time God is giving you to be there.  Use it wisely.

As her tender eyes pierced mine, she spoke words that came straight from the throne room.  It was exactly what I needed to hear.  I needed to hear there is purpose in the lifetime missionaries that call a foreign land home, but there is also purpose in just 13 days.

This short conversation made a huge impact on me because it reminded me that it really is about God’s plan – not mine.  The nurturer in me wants to fix the needs of the orphans.  The Savior-complex in me wants to give them their happily ever efter.  The realist in me knows I can’t no matter how long I stay there or the resources I could spend.  The hard fact is that the problem is bigger than me.  The Truth, however, is that their problems are not too big for God.  So where I want to scoop these little ones up in my arms and hold them until everything is better – no matter how long it takes – God has only given us 13 days to hold them.  But, these precious children are never out of His grasp.  He knows them deeper more intimately than I ever will.  He knows their pain, their needs, their dreams and their hearts inside and out.  Their pain is His pain.  Their lives are His passion.  His love overflows.

I need to remember my place in missions.  It isn’t for me to go and be the hero who swoops in and saves the day.  It is to introduce them to the one, true Savior through being the hands and feet in whatever manner He calls me to.  It is hard to think we can make any difference in 2 weeks.  However, our friend is still changing India, even after his death, from just one conversation.

It is all for God’s glory and fame.  Missions is all about God and what Christ did to reconcile us to God the Father as well as meeting very real and basic needs of those we are sent to.  But, I love that He is the God of details in that He doesn’t forget about the goer and how missions impacts them.  I’m not kidding when I’ve told people this trip may break my heart in two. I watch tears well up in friends’ eyes when I tell them about what we are walking into with this trip – my heart feels the same. But, God in His faithfulness will be with us to put Humpty Dumpty back together again for the 1,000th time if need be.

Clearly the focus of missions is who we are going to.  However, the enemy tries to come in the back door and discourage me to the point of not going.  What difference can one person really make?  What help do you really think you’ll be there?  Come on, you know you’re not equipped for this job – who are you kidding?  Admit it, you’re not strong enough for this assignment.  You know you won’t be able to handle the fact that you can’t make everything better.  It’s just 13 lousy days.  What can radically change in that short time? You’re only going to get kids attached to you, and then you will leave them just like everyone else.  How is that helping?

To that I answer with Scripture – And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth.  The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him.  But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.  I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. ~ John 14:16-18

Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen. ~ Matthew 28:20

So where we may be able to hold and rock and love on these children, we are finite and our help is finite.  But, the Trinity is eternal and will always be with those who call Jesus Lord.  More than a band-aid or a hug or a smile, we long to introduce them to the Healer.

Because of the inspirational life of our dear friend, and the encouraging words of my fellow mission traveler, I am pumped now more than ever to get there and get started.  God has shown me I am released from guilt over what I can’t control, but I have total freedom in Christ to do His work as He provides the opportunities.  The fact is, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, so He calls us to make the most of every day whether it’s one hour, 13 days, or decades in service for Him.

The lie that 13 days can’t make a difference has been forever re-written in my heart because of one conversation in the Caribbean that is still changing India and beyond.  The thought of even one child grasping the love of Jesus and the faithfulness of God to make a difference right in their own community excites me like never before!

I like how our pastor often says in his sermons regarding evangelizing, discipling, and sharing God’s love – Go get ‘em.  That’s exactly what we intend to do on this mission as we work to do it here at home.

May my mission friend’s words be a charge to us all – Give everything we have to the task for the time we are granted. Spend our time wisely today.  After all, while bearing the sobering reality of the loss of our friend, I am reminded that today is, indeed, all we have.