Tag Archives: faith

Obedience, Part Unknown

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It’s time to get personal with all the talk about obedience. If you didn’t know, I’m writing a series of five posts on obedience:
Obedience, Part 1 – Turning
Obedience, Part 2 – Agreeing or Trusting?
Obedience, Part 3 – What Precedes Obedience
Obedience, Part 4 – What Follows Obedience
Obedience, Part 5 – Disobedience

“Obedience, Part Unknown” was not going to be in the series, but I’m struggling today and it’s time to share the struggle. But first, how the difficulty began; which is actually a story I love to tell.

A couple months ago I was feeling inadequate and overwhelmed in parenting, which is not at all unusual for me. However, this time things were at the point I felt something needed to be done. My seven year old daughter was saying she felt like the worst person in the world, that she hated herself, and that she wished she were dead. Fear and worry swooped in to tell me it was my fault for being a perfectionist, and that not having the right solution would result in lifelong negative consequences.

As my mind began to spin up a tornado and my soul began to clench in fear, the Holy Spirit threw me a rope. He reminded me that I didn’t have to descend into despair, and He also informed me that I was not strong enough on my own to fight that battle. He instructed me to reach out to my friends for prayer, and so by God’s grace and praying friends I made the journey over the next 24 hours from “this is big and I can’t solve it and that’s bad” to “God loves my daughter even more than I do and He knows exactly what she needs.” In my heart I sensed that God was asking me to wait on Him. It was not time to act, it was time to trust, and then from the quiet of trust, to listen. This was all His work, not mine. I simply responded.

Within a day or two of this, my husband and I had our weekly “M&P,” which is a time we spend after the kids are in bed talking about either our marriage or parenting. We prayed and I shared my concern about our daughter, and then we had the most wonderful conversation about our lives being too full. There is absolutely no explanation for it being wonderful except that God showed up. Generally, conversations about how we spend our time have been anything but wonderful. Weekends have been the crucible of our marriage because unplanned time sends us in opposite directions: my husband to relaxing and entertainment, and me to chores and activities. But throughout this conversation we expressed ourselves well, we heard each other well, and we reached the same conclusion: our life is too full and God is calling us to slow down.

Typically my response to any sort of conclusion is to take action. Time to buy a car? Ok, let’s go get one tomorrow. Time to plan a birthday party? I’ll start the guest and supply lists right now. But I experienced this calling from God as if a divine Parent was truly in charge. I didn’t feel the need to make it happen. My husband and I both agreed that we were to slow down our lives, but we didn’t know how. We even agreed that if we were to sit down with the intent to discuss our schedule, two things could happen: 1) no individual item would ever make the cut, because each one had been chosen for a good reason in the first place (how could we cancel date night, dinner with friends, or art lessons for the kids?), and 2) if we did actually find something to cut, our lists would be opposite: what he wanted to cut would be what I wanted to keep, and vice versa.

So here we sat, unexpectedly in peace and agreement, waiting for God to reveal what He had in mind for us. Some weeks later as I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water, the thought came to me that we could decide on our schedule based on what we know God has called us to. In other words, those things in our life we know He has directed us to do would remain, and everything else would get cut. I tucked that thought away for later, and through unanticipated circumstances we found ourselves at home alone on a Saturday morning for two hours. I suggested we talk more about God’s plan for our time, and my husband reservedly agreed. Again we experienced the same oneness of mind as our previous conversation, and we felt God was asking us to lay aside those things that He had not called us to do. (Our focus was the time between school and bedtime, so we were not talking about changes to my husband’s work schedule, or to time commitments in the first part of the day).

As we conversed over the next couple of weeks, we identified three things we knew God had clearly called us to, and we decided it was time to tell the kids our plan and start eliminating everything else from our evening schedule. Previous to these changes, we were out of the house five nights a week on average. And this was after saying no to quite a few opportunities. We communicated with our extended family – who are our primary babysitters – that we would be making changes, and were blessed to have their support. We started to get excited about more evenings at home as a family, and maybe the option to invite people for dinner occasionally – something we had not been able to do for some time. Our focus was on keeping things off the calendar, so dinner invitations would be more spontaneous – not planned weeks ahead.

So, that’s the story. We basically started following this new calling at the beginning of January, which felt very fitting. Here we are a few weeks in, and it’s getting hard. At first it was a relief, even a joy, to look at the empty calendar, knowing that we were right where God wanted us to be, and that we didn’t have to always be going here and there. Then the social invitations started coming in. Last weekend we had three social invitations on Saturday evening. My stress level went up as we tried to decide which was the most important, whether we should do any at all, how late we could respond to the invitations without being thoughtless toward the hosts, and so on. I was texting people, feeling torn and overwhelmed. Part of me wanted to go ahead and respond with Yes to two of the invitations, as they would fit together nicely. Part of me thought we should pick one. Part of me wanted to say no to all of them. And this uncertainty was a huge energy drain. I was stressed, wanting to keep each of my family members happy and also (to be completely honest) keep up good impressions with the friends who had invited us. We ended up choosing one event, which kept us up late, and in the end I felt overextended and emotionally exhausted (more from the decision making than the event, which seems ridiculous).

So how do I navigate this? We’re not trying to completely eliminate our social life, but we are trying to slow it down. And although I am absolutely certain of God’s calling to a quieter schedule, I am not as sure how to make the individual decisions. We’ve been reading a new book by Jefferson Bethke titled “To Hell with the Hustle: Reclaiming Your Life in an Overworked, Overspent and Overconnected World.” It explores the ways life has changed in the last two hundred years with cars, electric lights, worldwide time zones, and all the things that enable us to have the very full lives we have today. It has been eyeopening, and an encouraging read as it echoes the heart calling God has given us for this season.

And yet I still don’t know what I’m doing. Today school was cancelled because of snow. I decided to have a fun day with my girls, and we each picked something to do: bake cookies, make cereal necklaces, and dance along with kid song videos. I also took my first-grader on a mommy-daughter date because she has been asking for some time alone with me. Then I started getting social invitations. Four, to be exact, all before 1:00 (and there may still be more to come?). And I like them all. What’s not to love about sledding and lunch and playdates? Each time I agonize. The kids would love to do it. It would be good to get out of the house. But here’s the real kicker. I realized as I responded No to each one that there may be a cost to this obedience. Friendships only last when you invest in them. If we are going to be centered at home, we are essentially tightening our circle, and some relationships may be lost. If I am investing more time at home, the obvious flip side is that I’m investing less time outside the home. How can I say no to the meal trains, the mom nights, the potlucks and sledding invitations, the dinner invitations, the birthday parties, the playdates at the park?

And then I pause for a moment right in the middle of this thought and realize how blessed I am! What an incredibly warm and wonderful place to be – surrounded by friends I admire and cherish, who regularly invite me into their activities and their homes. I have a story for another day about hungering for friendship, and by God’s grace here I am drowning in it.

But back to my original thought. What to do? I must say no. I am called to say no. As Bethke says in the aforementioned book, “If you’re not saying no to good things, you’re probably not saying no enough.” This is uncomfortable. But despite the discomfort I can be grateful, because all is good. The calling to slowness is good. The friendships are good. There is nothing bad here, but there is a calling. There is a culling. There is a cost. In all of it I am blessed. I am blessed to have a loving Father who cares enough to orchestrate the details of my life. I am blessed to be surrounded by a loving community of friends and family. I am also blessed to discover the freedom that comes with the word No. 

Is it painful? Yes. Is it also peaceful? Yes. Is there a cost? Yes. Do I know what the cost will be? No. Am I called to obedience? Yes. Can I be obedient on my own? No. It is all the work of God, from start to finish. In his book Mere Christianity C. S. Lewis points out that “Christ Himself sometimes describes the Christian way as very hard, sometimes as very easy. He says, ‘Take up your Cross” – in other words, it is like going to be beaten to death in a concentration camp. Next minute he says, ‘My yoke is easy and my burden light.’ He means both.” So here I am, feeling peaceful and blessed, and simultaneously uncomfortable and sad. God is asking me to do something hard, but the truth is that He does all the hard  stuff. I just turn toward Him in obedience.

Today the photo for my post is a picture of my husband and me with our older daughter when she was about a week old. The first time I looked at this picture, God impressed an image on my mind that still comes to me every time I see it. In the picture you can see our daughter, with my arm around her, and my husband’s arms around both of us. In my mind’s eye God showed me His arms as another Person around all of us. Here we are seven years later, facing new challenges, but we are still held. And being held is worth fighting for. It’s worth obedience, even knowing it comes with discomfort and loss and the unknown.

That Man

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You are my Savior. I don’t have to save myself today.

You are my Lord. I don’t have to master myself today.

You are my Father. I belong in a loving home today.

If a man can predict his own death and resurrection, and pull it off, I just go with whatever that man says.  – Andy Stanley

Today looks daunting; but today I serve a Man who predicted His own death and resurrection.

Today I feel broken beyond help; but today I serve a Redeemer who touched dead people and they came back to life.

Today feels impossible; but today I serve a Father who serves me, and who has proclaimed all things possible.

Today I feel lonely; but today I serve a Friend who has never and will never leave me alone.

Today I suffocate with worry; but today I serve a Lord who knows me and my needs and delights in providing for me.

Today I want to save myself; but today I serve a God who sacrificed self and emerged from the other side to tell the story.

Today Satan tempts me to settle; but today I serve a God who “did not spare even His own Son but gave him up for us all, won’t he also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32 NLT)

Today looks big; but I serve a God who is bigger.

Letting God Provide

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[from my prayer journal]

August 12, 2019

God says, “Let me be your provider. ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness’ (2 Cor. 12:9). You don’t need your kids and husband and other people around you to keep you happy, or your performance to be your reward. Bring everything to me. Let me be your provider. Be still. Wait on me. Give thanks. Hold fast. Find contentment in watching me provide.”

November 12, 2019

This morning I am feeling my brokenness in parenting. The sorrow of all the moments of connection lost to worry and fear. I asked God what to do and He sent me a bird. A tiny bird to flit about in the leafless tree outside my window. And He reminded me not to worry because He cares for the sparrows and He cares for me. I am not able to parent my children the way He would have me parent them. I am not even to try. I may trust His provision. I may find contentment in watching Him provide.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matthew 6:25,26 NIV)

November 13, 2019

“I have resurrection power, living on the the inside Jesus, You have given us freedom” (Chris Tomlin, “Resurrection Power”). This morning I write these words with a sense of belonging rather than a sense of longing. Yesterday I spent the afternoon having fun with my daughters. And I actually had fun. And I didn’t even think of my to-do list. That is resurrection power.

November 25, 2019

When I woke up this morning I realized I’m not miserable any more. I was thinking about yesterday and today – my husband being sick, my e-book with an hour left before it expires and no time to listen, the kids being on school vacation, not knowing how best to spend my time, Christmas crochet projects not getting done, grocery shopping, meal preparations, a messy house, parenting my girls today – and none of it felt like a burden.

It has been about four years since I realized I was miserable. Since I got honest about the reality that I had a perfect life and I hated it. I just wanted to escape. Was part of this seasonal? Probably. I had a one year old and a three year old at that time. But the greater part of this change is the holy and beautiful, precious and long desired, oh-so-beautiful and tasty, fruit of seeking God. Or responding to Him seeking me. To be honest, it’s still somewhat of a mystery. But this morning I cry tears of happiness and contentment and relief at the realization I am not miserable. In some sense I am surprised. In the deepest sense I am loved, and I have finally begun to let it soak in.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 NIV)

Obedience, Part 2 – Agreeing or Trusting?

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If obedience is a turning toward God (I explored this idea in Obedience, Part 1), then how do I decide when to turn toward Him? Do I need to understand and agree in order to obey? I will be arguing in this post that agreement and understanding do not precede obedience. But before exploring that further, let’s agree that it is important to understand who God is, and agree with His kingdom principles before we trust and follow Him. He is not asking us to choose Him blindly. But once we do choose Him, and we learn to trust Him (which, by the way, happens over time, not magically all at once), we will miss the glory of being His if we obey only when we agree and understand. I also want to note before I begin that the ideas presented under “Why Obedience” come primarily from a presentation by Bob Folkenberg, which may be viewed in full here: https://vimeo.com/32471840

Why Obedience?

Think about what happens in a parent-child relationship when a child wants to know “why?” Suppose I ask my daughter Kayt to wash the dinner table. At this point she can obey or disobey, based only on the fact that I am her mother and I have asked her to do something. But suppose she asks why, and I explain, “we’re going to do a craft and I don’t want crumbs and sticky food to get on our craft.” Now she can think about that and decide whether she also doesn’t want crumbs and sticky stuff on her craft. Or whether she will do it because she wants to keep me happy by doing what’s important to me. Or perhaps she’ll decide not to do it, because she doesn’t think what I said makes any sense. The point is, now that I have given her my reason, she will use her own judgement to decide whether to obey me. Folkenberg says, “Therefore they are not doing what you asked them to do. They are doing what they have decided is appropriate to do. They are worshipping their own opinions, which are higher than yours.” Since I have given my reason, my daughter is now making a decision based on her own authority and judgement, not mine.

Understanding is a good prerequisite for decision making, but not for obedience. In most of our relationships obedience makes no sense. Ought we to do whatever our boss says without thinking about it? I should think not. What about our friends, coworkers, small group leaders, pastors? Certainly not. But in our relationship with God, as well as in the parent-child relationship, it does make sense to obey without understanding, without making our own judgement about the situation. What child would cheerfully put herself to bed at 8pm every night because you explained the importance of sleep? What child would eagerly hand over his toys whenever friends came to play because you explained the importance of caring about others? Children must obey their parents without understanding or agreeing, because their life and wellbeing depends on it. They would die if left to their own understanding. And so will we.

Consider Lucifer’s sin. “For you have said in your heart: ‘I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God…’” (Isaiah 14:13a NKJV). His sin was in his thoughts, his heart, and it was a conflict of authority. Folkenberg puts it this way: Lucifer says “You have the authority to make all the rules you want to, but I get to decide which ones I’m going to follow…. And that means I’m a god like You’re a God. I’ve got the same authority ‘cause I crowned myself an alternate God.”

Consider Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Lucifer shows up and crowns himself as another god – able to make judgements about God – in the sight of Adam and Eve by contradicting God: “you won’t die.” Then he offers Eve the opportunity to become a god too: “your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4b NKJV). She accepted his invitation and used her own reasoning to consider what God had said about the tree, consider what she herself could see and understand about the tree, and make a decision. “So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate” (Genesis 3:6a NKJV). She placed her own judgement above God’s judgement. She crowned herself another god. Folkenberg says there is only one sin: “Yes God, I know what you said, but it seems to me…”

Both Lucifer and Eve rejected God’s sovereignty and His love. Folkenberg argues that God’s love/acceptance and His sovereignty/authority are two sides of the same coin, and that you cannot have one without the other. “Sin [as defined above] is the rebellion that is made evident in the deed that rejects God’s sovereign authority and love beyond description. You cannot reject His authority without rejecting His love. You cannot separate His sovereign love that is the basis for His means of salvation without also rejecting His authority. And we most commonly reject His sovereignty, His lordship. But we can’t have one without the other… The Lord says, ‘You cannot be anything like me unless you let me change your likes and dislikes and your wants and your desires. I’m the one. Let me in; I’ll help you.'” This is Lordship in a nutshell:
Me: I’m trying so hard.
God: Stop trying, I’ve got it covered.

If you’re agreeing with God, the weight is on you. You have to make the right decision. If you’re trusting God, the weight is on Him. As my friend Nic always says, “Are you trusting God, or trusting yourself?”

Let’s be clear that prioritizing obedience does not somehow place salvation in our hands. We are not saved by obedience. We’re saved by grace, and by the process of responding to that grace in the only way that we can – falling in love with Jesus. In fact, Folkenberg goes on to say that if we obey God because we agree with Him, we’re not actually obeying Him, we’re obeying ourselves. Our actions that appear to be obedience may actually be sin if they are done out of agreement (we have now placed ourselves in judgement over God) and not trust.

So if we’re not saved by obedience, but by grace, why does God ask us to obey Him? 1 John 2:3 says, “Now by this we know that we know Him, if we keep His commandments.” By this WE know. Folkenberg says, “my obedience is not designed to impress God… or to impress somebody else (it’s none of their business)… it is there for me, as an honesty check on who I am. [When we put on a good act] we deceive everybody else and deceive ourselves. Folks, we’re not as good as we think we are and we’re certainly not as good as anybody else thinks we are. The Lord says… ‘I’ve designed the plan of salvation so that you have to confront who you are. You’re saved by grace… but I’m helping you realize that you’ve got a struggle, and your struggle is to set your opinions aside and simply say, “Lord make me what you want [me] to be.”‘ Don’t be impressed by yourself. Face the reality of yourself.”

My Experience

Obedience is like a trust thermometer. Nearly four years ago I realized I didn’t trust God one bit. The idea of waking up in the morning and saying, “Lord, you are God, do as you see fit today,” was absolutely terrifying and practically revolting to me. I didn’t want what God wanted. I wanted what I wanted, and if He wanted to help with it, that would be lovely. Of course He didn’t, so things got a little awkward there for a while. After years of honest conversation, humbly seeking to fall in love with Jesus, and facing the reality of my deep brokenness, most mornings I am now relieved to leave everything in God’s hands. Have I mastered trust? Heavens, no! By God’s grace I have taken one tiny step toward fully trusting Him. There is always another layer, a deeper experience. God is never done. As I learn to trust Him in one place, He stretches me in another. 

Walking with God is comforting, but right on the edge of unnerving. It’s not a gradient where I move from unnerved to comforted. Rather, they are stacked right against each other. The second I forget how much God loves me, I move from peace to stress. Which of course makes sense, because God’s kingdom is ridiculous and impossible for me, and thinking about it causes fear and anxiety when I am trying to follow Him by making the right decisions myself. But knowing and trusting God – and letting Him make the decisions – changes everything. There is great peace and comfort in His presence.

It’s kind of like being naked or being clothed. Imagine trying to go through a typical day naked. When I’m naked I can’t take on anything because all I can think about is needing to be dressed. But when I am clothed, those thoughts disappear completely and I am ready to tackle the day. Walking with God, rooted in His love, is like being dressed. When I start to wonder if He’s really got it covered, it’s like my underwear are showing. If I keep going that way, pretty soon my buttons fall off and I might as well be naked because it’s all I can think about. But if I pull my clothes back into place – if I remember God’s love for me – I return to the safety of being covered. Am I always naked underneath the clothes? Yes. Will I always be naked underneath God’s love and provision? Yes. But will the knowledge of that nakedness be practically nonexistent in my mind as I enjoy His clothing? I believe yes.

If we only obey God when we agree with Him, we will be forever running around naked. When we trust Him, and our obedience comes from a place of love and safety, we will always be clothed. We can honestly bring our deepest hurts and our greatest confusions to Him and know that there is comfort in His saving grace and His powerful lordship.

If you don’t feel peace and comfort in God’s presence, and you don’t want to trust Him, don’t despair. Your shortcoming are never ever so great that He can’t reach right through them and save you. Get really honest. Tell Him how you really feel. Put forth the tiny seed of faith you have, even if you’re embarrassed how small it is. For me, I couldn’t say I trusted Him, or even that I wanted to trust Him, but I could say that I wanted to want to trust Him. And that’s where I started.

Emmanuel Mystery

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On school picture day I was at the private Christian school my girls attend, waiting with my youngest daughter to get her school picture taken. Friday chapel happened to be at that time, so I sat in on it. The guest speaker told the story of a family committed to Sabbath-keeping who was experiencing a plague of grasshoppers that would devour their fields. They stood to lose tens of thousands of dollars because the company spraying for grasshoppers refused to spray their field when asked to work around Sabbath hours. Amazingly, the power lines the length of their property were covered with solid rows of birds Sabbath morning, which descended and ate all the grasshoppers, saving their fields and fortunes.

Stories like this trouble me. Especially when we share them with elementary school children. What exactly are we trying to say? That if we trust God He will make sure everything works out in our favor? That we can pray and expect Him to take care of things in a way that preserves us? What about all the things that don’t work out? And why would God save a field of grain but not save little girls from brothels, or a wife from her husband’s affair, or a Christian from torture and death?

Often my reaction to my inability to see and understand the ways of God is to reduce God’s provision to a cosmic “everything will be alright in the end” platitude. Clearly He’s not making everything alright now, so He must mean that His care and protection are for the race as a whole over the arc of history, and not really for individuals. He must mean that my soul is safe – not my body, or my possessions, or my relationships. He has redeemed me and I trust in Him for my eternal provision, so at least if I am tortured to death, I know my soul is safe with Him. (Unfortunately, I happen to like my body and my life, and I don’t like the idea of being a pawn in a cosmic game.)

But this really feels like a cop-out to me. How can I possibly enjoy an intimate relationship with a Being who I believe doesn’t care for my well-being today? And how do I explain my own experience, that He does care for things as minute as my to-do list and whether I have time to take a shower? How do I explain the times He has provided perfectly the intimacy I was missing in my marriage, or the words to connect with my distraught child? The longer I respond to Him, the more I am convinced that He desires to be present in every moment of my day, every cell of my being, every thought, every need. But while He does provide for me often, He seems more interested in being with me than in fixing everything. This is puzzling to me, because I place high value on things being fixed. In fact, God and I have had some serious altercations about why He has not made me good yet.

So where does this leave me? Certainly I have not answered the questions that millions have been asking for thousands of years. Truthfully, I think God is beyond understanding. His goodness is beyond understanding and I’m certain He is a little crazy for loving me. And when I think about all the badness that is beyond understanding, I just don’t get it. I explain to my kids the story of Satan’s fall, our own fall, and the importance of humans having the power of choice even though it hurts us. But still the evil in the world is unsettling.

For me, in this season, there are two beliefs that comfort me when I think about pain. The first I have already touched on, and that is God’s desire – and His promise – to be with us. I want to be crystal clear that pain is real, and sometimes so deep and raw it threatens to destroy us. It cannot be spoken away, “faithed” away, hidden away. It is part of our experience, and we will feel it, and we will know that we cannot escape it. Sitting in pain, the most comforting, affirming, burden-lightening experience is to have someone sit in it with us. Most of us have a friend or friends who are quick to offer advice, solutions, and fixes for everything in our lives, and we quickly learn not to share struggles and pain with those people. The times I have felt the most safe in my own emotional skin are the times when I was allowed to be in pain, when my experience was affirmed and I knew someone was with me. This is a rare gift.

God is Emmanuel: God with us. He has an incredible capacity for feeling, and He enters into our feelings as an intimate friend. One of my favorite authors, Ty Gibson, calls Him omnipassionate. He is able to feel deeply with each of us. He is present in our pain. There is no pain outside of His desire to be in it with us. He sits with us in deep sorrows, and He is present in the passion of misplacing my phone for the seventh time today. I’m starting to wonder if this is actually better than Him fixing everything. It irritates me just a little to even say that, but my spirit says yes to a God who is with me just to be with me. A God who holds my pain with tenderness and affirmation, and holy presence. A God who is not immune to my pain, but actually feels it with me because He is one with me by His grace. A God who became human so He actually knows what it is like to feel pain as a human.

The second belief that comforts me is that God can somehow undo our pain in the future. If believing God’s presence in pain is hard for me to grasp, trying to understand His ability to work backwards and “undo” pain is even more of a mystery. In the book “The Great Divorce” by C.S. Lewis, one of the characters says, “That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.” I believe that God’s redemption is for all time. His sacrifice on the cross saved the first humans who breathed, just as it saves us. And if the cross can reach backwards and forwards, maybe heaven can, too.

Consider this passage from Ephesians: “Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure. So we praise God for the glorious grace he has poured out on us who belong to his dear Son. He is so rich in kindness and grace that he purchased our freedom with the blood of his Son and forgave our sins. He has showered his kindness on us, along with all wisdom and understanding. God has now revealed to us his mysterious will regarding Christ—which is to fulfill his own good plan. And this is the plan: At the right time he will bring everything together under the authority of Christ—everything in heaven and on earth. Furthermore, because we are united with Christ, we have received an inheritance from God, for he chose us in advance, and he makes everything work out according to his plan.” (Eph. 1:4-11, NLT) 

I am ignorant, sinful, selfish and blind, observing an infinite God through a finite lens. My understanding is weak, but I am drawn by Holy Mystery – a God who is here right now, desiring the intimacy of knowing my own feelings as they emerge naked and timid from my heart; a God who desires to extend His love and grace, passion and power to us in order to bring all things and all times under the healing power of His love. We are not left empty handed, holding only a promise, and neither are we held in the moment with no anticipation of future healing. It’s just like Him to offer comfort right now, and hope for the future. 

Maybe I feel unsettled about the farmer and the grasshopper-eating birds because I’m focused on the wheat. I assume God is placing value on the wheat and the money, when in fact He is placing value on His child. He is present in the experience of the farmer. His presence could be birds, peace, wisdom, money. It doesn’t really matter how He shows up. It matters that He shows up. Because He loves you. Emmanuel Mystery.

Give and Receive

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I am guarded with God. As much as I don’t want to admit it, it becomes painfully clear in those moments when I try to trust Him and end up exploding in anger. I’m still not sure He’s safe. Perhaps I am in a lifetime of recovery. Just as alcoholics are forever recovering, perhaps so are sinners.

I keep thinking God is expecting something from me – a life of service perhaps – and He keeps saying, “Let Me provide.” Why am I so convinced He wants to take, when all He has done is give? (And how presumptuous to think that I have anything of objective value to offer the God who made me.)

Always He is present. Always He is safe. Always He wants to be with me and love me, even though it makes no sense. “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not also with Him freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32)

Perhaps this giving is an invitation to me to receive. Receiving is different than taking. God is not a shelf from which I can select whatever I need and take it. He is a lover, pursuing me with gifts – blessings – and each time I receive I am entering into intimate relationship with Him. God bless this holy mystery.

Still

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“Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.” Psalm 37:7a

Stillness and I do not have a good relationship. I am a girl who does. While this has benefited me in the workplace, church volunteer positions, and even friend groups, it can be a real thorn in the side of my relationship with God.

I grew up in a home where hard work, productivity, and efficiency were highly valued. Our family rhythms were built largely around work, with rest and play languishing on the sidelines. More than fifteen years after moving out, I am less a slave to productivity, but still a product of my upbringing. As I sit here writing on the porch swing, a hot cup of tea beside me, I can feel the tension of the un-done things, but I also know the pleasure of taking this time to breathe the fresh air, feel the keys beneath my fingers, and enjoy writing and sipping tea (actually, I tend to let my tea cool and then chug since that is more efficient).

Over the last couple of years I have courageously cleared my schedule and said no to many things I would have said yes to before. I have come to enjoy a day with nothing on the calendar (this was previously terrifying). While I am tremendously grateful for this journey away from doing for the sake of doing, sometimes I am not sure what I am moving toward. Often I feel even the unscheduled days rush by without me in them. I have created space, but I don’t know how to live in it. I don’t know how to be still.

As I wrestled this past week with my monthly allotment of female hormones – which often send me back to the comfort of being productive – God invited me to be still. The word “invited” is intentional, because for do-ers like me, advice or requests ruin intimacy. I will run off to perform and miss the opportunity to connect. Jesus knows me, and He speaks words of invitation to my trembling, ready-to-please soul, that allow me to be still: “Let Me be your provider. My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness. (2 Cor. 12:9) You don’t need your kids and husband and other people around you to keep you happy, or your performance to be your reward. Bring everything to Me. Let Me be your provider. Be still. Wait on Me. Give thanks. Hold fast. Find contentment in watching me provide.”

There is something about believing God will provide that frees me to be present. If He is providing, then I don’t have to get everything right. If He is providing, worrying and planning can step down from their positions as chairman and CEO in my brain. If He is providing, I can be still. Stillness is still a discovery for me. Sometimes it is sitting in the quiet of the morning, in front of an open window, listening to the leaves rustling and the birds chirping. Sometimes it is recognizing my brokenness and talking to Jesus about it. Sometimes it is singing “He’s got the whole world in His hands,” and replacing “whole world” with whatever it is that is worrying me. Often is remembering that He loves me. For no good reason, really. And He even likes me. There is something restful about being loved and liked.

Maybe faith is letting God be God. He loves me crazy. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. (Psalm 50:10) What makes me think I need to exercise or manipulate Him? My part is to thank Him, praise Him, worship Him, watch Him, and be still. Still so I can feel the wind of His Spirit whisper against my heart. Still so I can hear His voice. Still so I can watch my children playing. Still so I can sit beside my husband and not be doing something. Still so the intensity of God’s love for me rises above the intensity of the unrelenting problem-solving and rabbit-trailing and ugly-worrying going on in my head. Still so I will know when He begins to move. Still because it is the strongest stand I can take against wearing the rags I have earned by my own righteousness. (Isaiah 64:6) Still because sometimes the Lord wants me to have a front-row seat as He fights the battle for me. Still because I don’t need to catch up with God. He is right here. Still because if God isn’t using both hands to hold me strong from my flailing performance of doing and striving, maybe He can do something else for me. Still because running ahead is lonely. Still because squirming and fighting is getting tiresome. Still because He is God and I am not, and what a relief!

Stillness may be the antidote to my perfectionism. Even the voices that scold me for not being present in the spaces in my life must be silenced by stillness. Stillness allows me to feel, but not to be overwhelmed by my feelings. It allows me a measure of comfort in the tension of living life in a broken body in a broken world. It invites me to hope in the good things my Provider has spread before me. It allows me to be as I am. Stillness in the presence of God is safe and holy and intimate.

Today I Can Breathe

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Today I can breathe deep because when tonight comes God will not love me any more or less than He does this morning.

“God loves people because of who God is, not because of who we are.”

-Philip Yancey, in his book “What’s So Amazing About Grace?”

Today I can breathe deep because God is in charge and I am not.

“He’s got the whole world in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands…”

-traditional American spiritual

Today I can breathe deep because God is bigger.

“…Just a whisper of your voice can tame the seas
So who am I to try to take the lead
Still I run ahead and think I’m strong enough
When you’re the one who made me from the dust

When did I forget that you’ve always been the king of the world?
I try to take life back right out of the hands of the king of the world
How could I make you so small
When you’re the one who holds it all
When did I forget that you’ve always been the king of the world…”

-from the song “King of the World” sung by Natalie Grant

Today I can breathe deep because I am already victorious and righteous in Christ.

“The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.”

-Romans 8:11, Holy Bible, New Living Translation

Today I can breathe deep because it’s not about me. Even if I get everything wrong today, I am still loved and God is still at work.

“The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”

The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
to those who search for him.
So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the Lord.”

-Lamentations 3:22-26, Holy Bible, New Living Translation

Today I can breathe deep because grace multiplies.

“The struggling of fleshly efforts won’t deliver anyone, but God’s grace never fails. If you have big problems, remember that His grace is always sufficient to meet every weakness (2 Cor. 12:9). God does not just offer us grace, but He offers us grace, grace, and more grace. His supply is bountiful; no matter how much we use there is always plenty more.”

Joyce Meyer, in her book ” If Not for the Grace of God”

Today I can breathe deep because I am enough.

“No matter how much I get done, or is left undone, at the end of the day I am enough.”

-Brené Brown

Today I can breathe deep because God will never leave me or forsake me (Deut. 31:6). I will never at any moment be alone.

“I’ve heard a thousand stories of what they think you’re like
But I’ve heard the tender whispers of love in the dead of night
And you tell me that you’re pleased
And that I’m never alone.
You’re a good good father
It’s who you are, it’s who you are, it’s who you are
And I’m loved by you
It’s who I am, it’s who I am, it’s who I am…”
      -from the song “Good Good Father” sung by Chris Tomlin

Fear of Parenting, Part 2

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As I explored in my previous post – Fear of Parenting, Part 1 – parenting has undone me in many ways. The truth is, I was already selfish and overwhelmed and angry, I just didn’t see it until I became a parent. This wide revelation of my inner self often leaves me feeling naked and ashamed. Yet I am confident this is not where God intends me to remain, because He says things like “So now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

When I state in plain words the things I am thinking and believing (the lies listed in my previous post), it gets really clear how far my head and heart are from the truth. This provides the opportunity to explore with the Holy Spirit what the truth is. As I have done that, these truths have emerged:

  • There is not one right answer. Perfect parenting is not the goal. It’s ok. Jesus is here with us.
  • God’s power to redeem is much greater than my power to destroy.
  • Enough faith to come to Jesus is enough faith to be healed by Jesus.
  • I CAN change. But where I’m going is God’s work in me. I am neither a slave to bad behavior or good behavior. I am free in grace.
  • The only thing that recommends me to Jesus is my great need.
  • Mistakes are not preventable. They are normal. They are evidence of showing up and living life.
  • The goal of parenting is to love my children (imperfectly) and model trusting Jesus (also imperfectly).
  • God gave me the full range of emotions. None of them are bad. He experiences them all too. I am made in His image.
  • I am exactly where I need to be. I can rest now (NOT after I become a “better” parent). Jesus’ fullness is the perfect match for my emptiness.
  • I don’t have to be ashamed. His mercies are new every morning. There is grace, grace, and more grace.
  • I can give myself permission to be calm and centered after a difficult day or experience (i.e. parenting fail). I don’t have to wallow in the bad (God has no desire to punish me). I can move on, grateful for grace and the newness of the moment.
  • There will always be problems and unresolved issues in parenting. I can welcome them, knowing 1) they are normal, 2) there is not one right answer, and 3) Jesus is walking me through them.
  • My children are not disrespecting me and acting like brainless wild creatures on purpose. They are weak, desiring my love and guidance.

Isn’t it nice that Jesus doesn’t think I’m acting like a brainless wild creature on purpose, but instead moves closer to me to love and guide me? Every now and then he reminds me not to take myself too seriously. Perfectionism has a way of turning every moment of life into an opportunity to be “right.” That much pressure is bound to make even the best of us into the worst versions of ourselves. When I feel overwhelmed, it helps to imagine my Savior smiling at me and reminding me, “Don’t take yourself too seriously.” No condemnation.

I still struggle with feeling that I am ruining my children. I joke that we have a therapy fund for the hours of therapy they will one day need in order to recover from growing up in our home. But somehow softening the edges of my struggle is the truth that it’s not about me, and it’s not about perfection. Someone Bigger is in charge, and He is God, which means I don’t have to be. He is Big and I am small. He is Creator, I am created. He is Redeemer, I am redeemed. He is Perfect, I am flawed. He is Potter, I am clay. And He is all this to my children as well. I cannot mess anything up so badly that He cannot redeem it. This is truth, this is freedom.

 

Lies, #3

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I find safety in conformity. I feel afraid of diversity. There is something really uncomfortable for me about interacting with someone who may be hard of seeing or hearing, or who has unusual behaviors or a mental disorder. I don’t know what the rules are. Perhaps if love was the rule I could navigate alright, despite my apparent lack of understanding. But I don’t operate well at that level. I desire clearly defined roles and expectations.

One of the lies I have believed from childhood is this: What you think or feel is only ok when it is the same as what I think or feel. Alternatively, if I can understand how you might think or feel that way, there is a slight possibility for it to be ok even if we are not in agreement. But if what you think or feel doesn’t make sense to me it couldn’t possibly be valid. This goes for desires, tastes and preferences, and so on.

And so I go through life judging others, and assuming they are judging me. I believe that what I feel is not valid unless other people share the same feeling, or unless I can logically defend my feeling. (By the way, logically defending feelings has been a fruitless exercise). I question myself, and I feel discomfort within my own self because I don’t follow my own rules and expectations. How do I reconcile with the mess that I am? How will I interact with people who follow different rules than I do?

The Holy Spirit’s answer to my lie is this: What you think, feel, desire, prefer, and enjoy delights me. I love that all my children are different. Your experience is valid. You don’t need to explain or justify to me why you like or dislike something, want to do something or go somewhere, desire or enjoy something, or feel a particular feeling. You do not have to agree with me in thought and/or action in order for me to be pleased with you. I am pleased with you and I delight in you.

Could I let God be big enough that He can delight in me AND in the person who disagrees with me? Is it possible that what seems mutually exclusive to me is not mutually exclusive to God? Perhaps there is more value in the human experience than in its definition. Maybe part of abundant life is living free from the need to measure up, to hustle, to conform. God is pleased with me and He delights in me. I am enough. Today I can rest. Not after I become a “better” person. Right now. You and I are already in His favor. And so are the “others” in our lives.