Tag Archives: crazy

Stillness (Part 2): Is God Crazy?

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God has a knack for suggesting stillness when it sounds like the worst possible idea. Imagine the Israelites leaving behind hundreds of years of slavery in Egypt, and suddenly seeing the Egyptian army coming after them as they approach the Red Sea. Terrified, they declare they would rather go back to be slaves than die. Sounds logical to me. But Moses says, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again. The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” (Exodus 14:13,14 NLT) “Just stay calm”? Really, God? You’re just going to say that? Of all the times to stand still, this seems like the worst. 

On some level I can relate to the Israelites, being trapped between slavery and salvation. My brokenness—from which God has already delivered me in Christ—pursues and traps me. Fear and anxiety rush in and I am ready to run back to my slavery: impatience, control, and being right. I would rather perform than be set free. I am afraid of myself and the cavernous ugliness I have seen inside. When things are not turning out how I want, it sounds much safer to reach for control than to sit between the enemy and an unknown outcome. But sometimes that is exactly what I am invited to do. And sometimes watching and waiting is the catalyst for victory.

Last winter our marriage stepped off solid ground onto a suspension bridge. There was a bit of wobbling and a few moments where we held our breath. After one of many difficult conversations, I was left looking down at the chasm below and wondering if that’s where we were going to end up. As I prayed, I had a strong impression that I was to watch and wait—that God was on the move but I needed to be still. So I was. By God’s grace I didn’t dwell on painful words or unanswerable questions. I waited. When fear rolled in with a choking sensation and suggested that I fight or flee, I prayed aloud, reminding God what He had asked of me and asking for His help to continue watching and waiting. After several days I saw God’s handiwork, in the form of a handwritten letter from my husband. God fought the battle for me as I watched and waited.

When God is involved, stillness can be productive. Look at the moment of stillness in this story of Jesus going to Nain:

Now it happened… that [Jesus] went into a city called Nain… and when He came near the gate of the city, behold, a dead man was being carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then He came and touched the open coffin, and those who carried him stood still. And He said, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” So he who was dead sat up and began to speak. And He presented him to his mother. (Luke 7:11-15, NKJV)

Did you catch it? The pallbearers stand still. 

When something is dead—whether it be a dream, an opportunity, a relationship—we take the next logical step and bury it. And rightly so, for dead things left in the open begin to stink. But Jesus may be audacious enough to stop us on the way to the hole in the ground. I want to get the ordeal over with. But if I pay attention to Jesus, He may simply be asking me to pause. 

I realize when I look at these stories that it can be ill-advised to be logical with Jesus. He may ask me sometimes to stop and be still when I am taking what is the undeniably obvious next step. Am I willing to still myself and see what He is going to do?

There are times to take action, yes. There are also times to stand still. Permit me one more Bible story: Judah’s king, Jehoshaphat, is terrified by the approach of not one, but three armies. He fasts and prays, and orders his whole kingdom to do the same. In response, God’s Spirit comes upon a guy named Jahaziel, and this is what he says: “‘Listen, all you people of Judah and Jerusalem! Listen, King Jehoshaphat! This is what the Lord says: Do not be afraid! Don’t be discouraged by this mighty army, for the battle is not yours, but God’s… you will not even need to fight. Take your positions; then stand still and watch the Lord’s victory’” (2 Chronicles 20:15-17b, NLT, emphasis added). Sure enough, the enemies coming against Judah in battle kill each other, and Jehoshaphat’s army just watches. 

Isn’t that crazy? 

Is it possible that sometimes I miss what God is saying because I’m only listening for actions I can take? Maybe I give God multiple-choice, but His answer isn’t on the list. Doing nothing seems counterintuitive to problem solving. 

If we are parents, sometimes we have to tell our kids to wait: for cookies to cool, for glue to dry, for the day of the party to arrive. By the same token, we may be asked by Daddy God to wait when it seems obvious what the next step ought to be. The antidote for white-knuckled waiting—or rushing in headlong—is the slow building of trust, creating a safe space for stillness. As God shows His heart to us, we let His love soak deep into our bones so that we may trust Him, crazy though He may be.

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A couple things to check out: 1) this freeing song about stillness, by Hillary Scott. 2) my new Facebook page @jesusmyfavoritesubject. Love ya’ll. Thanks for reading.

Growing Pains

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Have you noticed it is hard to be loved by God? It is the end of a long day, and I sit in the quiet of my daughters’ bedroom, tired in every way. Finally they are sleeping, and finally I take inventory of my cowering spirit. I let the discomfort and fear rise to my conscious mind and the falling tears are evidence of despair over my mediocrity. Sometimes I think it would feel better to fail epically than to struggle along day after day, doing what I need to do, but feeling purposeless; being possessed by a nagging ache that I could do so much better. I could be a better mom and wife and friend; a better housekeeper and cook and caretaker of pets.

As I sit in the quiet and feel the discomfort of my own existence, the whisper to my soul is one of love. “How do I go through the coming week?” I wonder. And God says, “Let me love you.” Even as my tears become tears of relief, I realize: being loved is hard too. I don’t know how to be loved. For 34 years I have believed that I must perform. This is so deeply a part of me that an identity based on being loved feels like insanity. I must be crazy. God must be crazy. What is going on? Is He sure He really loves me? Is He sure loving me and not fixing me this week is the best idea? At any rate, shouldn’t I earn His love by doing something good? Or shouldn’t the purpose of His love be to make me good?

And so I find before me a most difficult task this week. Not to become a better parent, or a better wife. Not to hold my tongue, or have a hot dinner ready at 5:30 every day. Not to make fancy after-school snacks and remember everything I need when I go to the store. Not to have the perfect ratio of social time and time at home. Not to always listen attentively to my children. Not to affirm my husband every day. Not to anticipate and care for the needs of my family, friends and community. My task is to be loved.

This is hard because I don’t really believe I am lovable – especially when I am performing so far below my own expectations. But if I am honest, I know in my spirit that love is exactly the right place to begin. Love is transforming. Love is a safe place to be when my own self is a minefield of lies and scoffing laughter at my attempts to be “good.” Love when I don’t deserve it is precisely what nudges me toward healing: what gives me permission to be broken, so that instead of fighting against myself I can embrace brokenness and know the first moments of healing.

God’s love is too good to be true. And haven’t I always been told, “If it’s too good to be true, it’s probably not true”? Well, this time it is too good to be true, but it is nevertheless true. God loves me. He really is crazy. And this really is good news. I can lay down this ungainly burden of must-get-everything-right, and breath some fresh grace-air deep into my bones, my spirit, my identity.

How does this all work? I’m not exactly sure. But maybe one tiny step is becoming aware of my allegiance. Dare I give more allegiance to the whispers of Love than to the well-worn paths of performing and earning? Could I choose to believe that I am loved, having done nothing to deserve it? Could I take one tiny step away from legalism and toward grace: away from starvation and toward abundance?

I learned from Dr. Caroline Leaf’s brain detox program how our thoughts occupy physical space in our minds. When we develop new thoughts they begin as little “bumps” in our brain, which then grow into “mushrooms” and then big healthy “trees,” simply because we think them over and over. Conversely, we can physically remove thoughts from our brain, reversing this process and deteriorating healthy “trees” down into “mushrooms,” then “bumps,” then nothing. Death.

Life or death. Choose this day whom you will serve (Joshua 24:15). This week, choosing to serve God looks like letting God love me, even though it makes no sense. Letting Him hold me after I belittle my children. Letting Him forgive me 100 times in one afternoon. Letting Him give me gifts I do not deserve. Letting Him withhold consequences I do deserve. Letting Him get a little crazy with me. Letting Him decide whether I am worthy, because He already decided on a cross a long time ago, when He was worthy for me so I don’t have to be worthy.