Abide

You know, it doesn't take much. That left hook - when you were looking for the right - that blindsides you and knocks you out cold with one hit. It's a suckerpunch to the jaw and suddenly the world goes dark and you find yourself groping around, fingers reaching out for the familiar. It can happen in an instant - the world tilts and turns and you know that it's never going to be the same again. Thank God we have a Rock immovable. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He is the handle we find in the inky black that gives us some kind of orientation to the "right".

It's in these moments (and the moments after) that it's so crucial to hold on to Truth. But what about when I feel so breathless and disoriented that I just don't feel like I can summon the strength to hold on to anything? My fingers go numb and my muscles refuse to obey the command to "hold on". What then?

My best friend once made me a painting in the worst of times, and on it is the word, "stay". It still hangs in my bedroom. Stay. When there is nothing I can do, sometimes it's the things I don't do that become paramount choices. Don't run away - Don't distract or withdraw or act out in a way I think is going to somehow alleviate the panic. Don't shut down, Don't give up, Don't throw it all away for what you can only feel in this moment. Don't unplug from the Source. Don't jump off the Vine.

Jesus invites us to abide. He doesn't ask us to stress and strain and try to fix it all or figure it out. He doesn't ask us to summon some sort of burst of giant faith and push out positive thinking. He doesn't need us to pray the perfect prayers or sing the right songs. Jesus only asks us to "stay". 

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener... Remain [abide] in me and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain [abide] in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains [abides] in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing... If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be given you... As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain [abide] in my love..." 
John 15:1-10

This passage is not a threat. Hear the tone of Jesus' voice, so loving and matter-of-fact. He's speaking Truth; calmly and carefully repeating himself so that we don't miss it.

What does a branch do to remain in the vine? 
Literally, the answer is: It doesn't fall off. 


How much effort does it take to simply stay? Remain. He's already here. We're already loved. We just have to remain. Don't fall off - don't run off and try to do it by your own strength alone. Don't get despondent and succumb to the lazy self-pity that says, "Well, I guess He doesn't love me anymore..." Don't turn your back on Jesus, just remain.

I can do that, Lord. I can abide. I don't have the strength to figure it out. I don't understand - I have so many questions and I feel so weak and tired. I can't imagine taking another step right now. But I trust You enough to know that You've somehow got this. You have eternity in mind for me. So I choose to stay. I can't hold on, but I won't let go.

www.flickr.com - Kalecik Karası Grape-vine (Kalecikkarasi) 

*FYI, my family is fine. I'm just having to face some things from my past that are new and shocking and difficult. But we're ok. Just didn't want any of my friends to panic. ;)

More thoughts on Fasting

Well this has been a most interesting almost three weeks! Watch out, you who may be subscribed to this blog, hopefully you won't be overwhelmed by all that may come spilling out of me! :) Ah well, it's God anyway.



This whole experience of fasting has been really eye opening. I came across this verse, and it describes so well the purpose and plan of God in fasting. Here's how it kind of breaks down:

2 Corinthians 7:1
Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.
2 Corinthians 7:1-3 (in Context) 2 Corinthians 7 (Whole Chapter)




"Therefore, since we have these promises..." 
Fasting, for me, had to come out of a spirit of gratefulness. It's not about striving to earn God's approval or acting pitiful before God so that He'll answer my prayers. Fasting (and all spiritual disciplines, for that matter) should spring out of a heart so overwhelmed by the extravagant love of God, that we can't help but respond in every way that is honoring to Him. It should be as natural as the goofy grin we get on our faces when a friend drops off a surprise Starbucks. Fasting is my goofy grin to God. 


"let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body..." 
Fasts that eliminate certain foods actually set your body into a detoxification mode. Our bodies need a rest from constantly having to process out the mess we put into it. There's a whole physiology that I don't claim to know anything about, but I do know that 2-3 Diet Cokes per day probably weren't helping my little cells do their thing.


"and spirit..." 
One of the weirdest side-effects (I guess you can call it that) of this fast, is that I haven't had a desire to watch certain things or engage in certain forms of entertainment. There's a video game that my husband and I regularly play together as a way to have a cheap date of sorts. Since we started the fast, I've had no desire to play. Not an aversion, really, but it just hasn't crossed my mind as something I'd like to do! I've been sleeping a whole lot more, which is good for the body and the spirit, I think. Because I've made too much a habit of staying up way too late watching some stupid show or another. 
Instead, I've been really trying to make a point to meet with God every day and to feed into the gaps left by cutting out certain entertainments. 


"perfecting holiness out of reverence for God."
The word "perfect" has always tripped me up when it shows up in scripture. I associate "perfect" with way too many failures in my life. I've learned, though, that it is acceptable/biblical/scholarly accurate to substitute the word "perfect" in scripture for "mature". So this Paul is writing about "maturing in holiness..." This makes so much sense to me. When we mature, things that used to interest us no longer interest us. Things that didn't used to make sense start to click into place. Impatience gives way to a longer-term vision. Maturing is an awesome result of fasting. And we want to be mature, because reverence for God requires maturity. God deserves to be honored for the place He holds in this universe. Yes, He is intimate and good and ever-present, but He is also the Creator, the giver of life, the One who is wiser than any man could ever dream. As much as I want to cultivate my knowledge of His immediacy, I also want to devote time toward cultivating my awe of His transcendence. 


So that's the Bible-student version of what's been going on during this fast. 
How has that played out in real life? I've been woken up to dreams I had forgotten about, challenged in my faith, blessed in ways I may have missed before, been exposed to parts of my soul that are downright nasty, and come into a new appreciation for God's sovereignty. I hear Him more easily, obey Him a little more readily, and worship Him more passionately. 
None of this is because I am awesome, it is because HE is. There are things God is showing me about myself that Satan would love to magnify until I'm so swallowed up shame that I can't move. But God's not about condemnation, He is about restoration.


Oh I have so much to share. :)
Look out blogger world. She's on Fiiiiaaaa!

Happy "New"!

It's my first post of 2011! To be honest, I've been doing a whole lot more reading then writing. It's been great to hear about everyone's thoughts about the New Year, resolutions and goals, dreams, hopes, and reflections. It's been so inspiring and encouraging that it's kind of left me at a loss for my own words.

When I was hopeless and jaded, the New Year was nothing but a turn of the calendar toward another string of empty days. I didn't count down with excitement. I thought I knew what was coming.
My paradigm has shifted a lot since finding hope again, but the idea of a man-made calendar writing so many choices for people still bumps me a little bit. I suppose there is still this part of me with a foreshortened sense of the future - an urgency for the immediate - that begs a resolution every day, not once a year. Life's unpredictability makes it necessary for us to live each day to the fullest, not coasting on toward the next major milestone where we'll start over again.

On the other hand, I'm touched by God's heart toward mornings and beginnings. My God is a God of the new. God brings about the sunrise after the darkest of nights. The colors are among the most vivid and awe-inspiring in all of creation. It's as though it's His way of displaying the full splendor of His new day. The rainbow after a storm - colorful and vibrant. (It's a DOUBLE RAINBOW!!!)
I love to see the things that make my kids' mouths drop open in wonder. Most of them are things that are new and surprising and beautiful. Their faces reflect the Father's heart. My God loves new things.
And while He makes no guarantee of my tomorrow, He does promise that a New Year will dawn as long as the Earth remains.

"For as long as Earth lasts,
planting and harvest, cold and heat,
Summer and winter, day and night
will never stop."
(Genesis 8:22, The Message)

So I thank God for another year and for the opportunity to experience a New Year. I'm in awe that there is still breath in my lungs... I honestly never expected to live to be 30 years old. I'm so aware that each day is on loan to me, and while I don't always act it, I understand what a huge responsibility that is.

While I'm not at all a fan of resolutions, I do resolve to live each day on purpose. Gone are the days of being chased along life's current in a sleepy stupor. Last year I got to test out my new legs. I'm almost ready to run.

I also have some goals for this year - physical, emotional, spiritual:

I want to hear God's voice for my family - whether or not we home-school, whether or not God wants to add to our family, etc - and see His plan come to pass this year.
I'd like to get 300 pages down on a book by year's end. Considering I still have no concrete ideas for this book, this will be a miracle.
I'd like to add fasting to my spiritual practices.
I have a goal to read through the entire Bible this year, cover to cover.
I'd like to meet some physical health goals, including improving my flexibility and participating in a few races/runs.
I want to knit a pair of socks.

I'm writing these and other goals down in the front of my Bible, so that at years' end, I can see where God has taken me and what He's helped me accomplish. I'm interested in what others' goals are, so if you'd like to post a link to your blog entry or jot a few down in the "comments" section, that'd be fun. I'm excited to see where 2011 will take us, and I'm filled with peace knowing that no matter what victories or trials we encounter this year, God is truly in control working His greater good in to every situation.

Love, love, love
Emily

this year

I have drafts for about three different posts in the queue, but I can't seem to bring myself to finish them right now. Timing, I guess, because I've been avoiding writing about what's truly on my heart.

I didn't want to write it because it's not really all in the "spirit of the holidays". In fact, some days I'm having trouble seeing the silver lining at all. I know it's there, though. That presence of the Lord that radiates through the darkest personal moments. Sometimes it takes faith to see it.

My whole life, the beauty of this season has been tainted by a dark hand of fear - a threat or realized pain from a person in my past still refusing to let go. Our birthdays are a day apart, which he always said made me some kind of special. He had a habit of ascribing great meaning to the meaningless. So in the joy and anticipation of parties and friends and presents, I always had to deal with what would be taken from me instead of given. Any more, he is a menace - quickly losing his power and throwing a tantrum because of it. God has given me back my voice and choice to resist. God has given me friends who understand my situation and rally in the tough times. It's no longer a war I fight alone, but with an army by my side, so the enemy looks smaller and smaller every year.

Still, there is the act of faith. "Faith without works is dead" (James 2:26) speaks to letting our hands do the talking when we talk about faith in God. I think, though, that part of those "works" can be the daily walking out of what we cannot see or touch. As one who faced debilitating depression, I know it can be as simple as getting out of bed, showering, and getting dressed. Faith that the day holds more than the pain inside. Faith that God has a purpose for these moments, even the seemingly insignificant, and that His sovereign power is working out a masterpiece with all of the shattered pieces.

I still wake up heavy with the memories of this time. I still struggle with fear as the sun sets in the evening. I still take practical precautions to ensure that my family's safety is secure. Until this person has a "Road to Damascus" experience or dies, I will most likely always have to be proactive during this time.

It's unfair and infuriating and I can finally feel that. This is a precious time of celebration and giving and beauty in the simple things. This is a season of unity and the recognition of that common bond that spans color and creed and gender and social standing. And I'm incredibly grateful for what the Lord has restored to me. This is my first year home, whole, and happy in five years. I celebrated three birthdays in one treatment center or another, because of that pitiful manipulator.
This year, however, I got to enjoy my daughter's beautiful anticipation and my son's amazement that his friends from school would honor his birthday. This year, I get to live in the victory of the freedom and choices that God has given me as I celebrate the fact that I'm GLAD to be alive. I'm grateful for it.

It's another lesson in the bittersweet - in reclaiming that which the enemy stole from me, one calendar date at a time. But I don't have to do it alone, and that makes all the difference. As my counselor at Mercy used to say, "It's not the absence of struggle, but the presence of God in the midst." 

the gift of receiving

I am constantly humbled by God's crazy love. And I'm constantly convicted by my apparent lack of ability to receive. I wish I could say that by some noble mark of humility, I have found myself in a position more comfortable with giving, but the truth is, I've forgotten how to receive.

My kids have no problem receiving. Kids are spongy in ways that make sponges look inferior. My three expect to be given things. They expect that their needs will be met, that there will always be an overflow of abundance, and that their hands will always be full. In handing a sweet treat to my little girl, I have never heard the words, "No, thank you. I don't need that, momma." But how many times do I hold up my hand and look at the ground and say, "I'm fine, thanks. I don't need that, Lord."





Before jumping to the conclusion that I am insane, think back on the times we couldn't forgive ourselves. I've made a mistake, and even though I'm broken with the pain of regret, I refuse to be comforted. I deserved this. I shouldn't have... I wish I would have...I can't believe that I... And God is standing with His forgiveness wrapped up in a golden ribbon, waiting.
The times I didn't rest when I should have. When I was lead to those green pastures, but I shook my head and kept on walking. When I collapsed on craggy rock, frustrated with God for my lack of energy after He had offered respite but I refused.
The times He poured out love on me - tangible, thick, and more than I deserved. But my heart was guarded and afraid to feel, because I've been hurt so many, many times. So the waterfall of grace rolled off of my back, and I stood numbly reaching, but never receiving. 

I get uncomfortable when I am complimented "too much". I shake my hand and turn down "Thanks" with "No need to thank me" instead of a gracious "You're welcome!" Am I always the first to pull away from a hug? Why am I so afraid to be loved?

Of course, there is always the flip side. The wealth of things I have received and never given thanks for - things I have taken for granted. But it's the love, for me. It's the things that speak, "I'm here. You're Ok. I love you. I delight in you." (He whispers these things to you, as well.) These are the things that meet a weathered wall, and I must somehow choose to be vulnerable to pain in order to receive the love that heals it. 

I find myself wrapped up in the arms that hold no conditions. Sweet words sung over me, sweet whispers of promises I want so badly to believe. At first, I'm tense, because I'm sure this feeling will end and be followed by immense loneliness. I won't be fooled, I've been betrayed before. But the arms remain far past my comfort zone- into eternity -so I dare to relax a bit and then rest. I'm praying there is safety here - praying to the only One who will never, ever disappoint.

acrylic pastels by abbEy

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."  - Zephaniah 3:17


"Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." Hebrews 4:16

...but God wears eternity

I couldn't sleep tonight. I had so much on my mind, I felt like I was lying on the track at the Indy 500 attempting a nap. Finally, I got up, texted a friend, made tea, and sat down with my journal. (by her advice)

I started writing a list. "I have to do this... I need to figure out this... I need to plan this..." And finally my words turned into a prayer. God, I can't do this. I don't even want to! It's time to trim the tree, and I want to run for cover. Visions of hot chocolate, Christmas music, and laughing children are stomped out by a wave of nausea. Lord, please, sort this out for me. Figure this out - tell ME what to do.

And then I prayed, "Let me be your personal assistant for my life." 

I laughed at myself. What a weird and random prayer. But honestly, it helped everything make sense in my head. Apparently the Holy Spirit is up on corporate culture.

Just this past week, I watched "The Devil Wears Prada" for the first time in a long time. I'm sure most have seen it, but for those who haven't: It's about a young lady that moves to New York to be a journalist, only to find herself looking for just about any job that will pay the rent. She interviews for the position of the Personal Assistant (#2) to a notoriously difficult woman - the Editor in Chief of a major fashion magazine. The movie is about the young woman's struggle to maintain her identity and relationships while half killing herself to keep up with the insane demands of her boss.
It's cute, it's witty, and it has a happy ending. I won't spoil it just in case. (As if it weren't entirely predictable)

God is not the fictional Miranda Priestly. But I see how the metaphor loosely fits. 
God is neither impossibly demanding nor a slave-driver of a boss. However, our lives do start to look differently as we surrender our wills to His.

The boss knows whom to meet with and why. The boss knows what he needs and where to get it. The boss is the one in charge of organizing his complex life, while his personal assistant does the footwork and smaller tasks.
Similarly, God knows who I need to make time for and why. God knows my needs and how to provide them. God can make the most complex set of circumstances come together, because He's got the bigger picture in mind at all times. My job is to do what He asks me to do, so that we can work together to make the day to day things happen. 
Sometimes He asks me to do things that seem mundane or irrational. But it's my job to obey, trusting that He knows what He is doing. See, when I step aside, shut my mouth, and receive direction, God is free to make my life work. And because He is always good and has eternity in mind, I can trust His decisions as I go about doing what He has asked me to do. 

Let it be clear that God and I do not have a boss/employee relationship. I have chosen to serve the Lord with my life because of my love for Him. And because of the sacrifice Jesus made, I am not considered a servant but a child of God. We have a parent/child relationship. We have a best friend relationship. (John 15:15, Romans 8:15)

Free will says that I can rip the God's planner right out of his hands and try to sort out the schedule on my own. Free will says that I can walk away at any time. But I don't want that - I can't live like that. Every time I start to drift in that direction the burden becomes too heavy to bear.

I want to be God's personal assistant for my life. Tell me what to do, Lord, and I will facilitate your will in my life and in this world. 

"Why don't you choose to be led by the Spirit and so escape the erratic compulsions of a law-dominated existence?" (Galatians 5:18, The Message)
"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." (2 Corinthians 3:17)

times they are a changin

Change is difficult. 
Even when the changes are positive, the very fact of difference is a challenge to cope with. I used to get angry with myself for my apparent weakness and lack of adaptability. I've found, though, that God has created us for stability. Made in the image of Him, who is the same beyond time, we have a glimmer of the unchangeable One in our makeup.

Our family moved this past weekend. There were so many reasons to move on, most practically that we had simply outgrown it. For some reason, the boys continue to get taller and my daughter seems to acquire "stuff" at a rate I doubt the Roman Conquest ever saw. My husband and I are coming into our... thirties... we need our space. We can't live in dorm-sized accommodations like those college kids. It's exhausting! Regardless, we prayed and waited and planned to move for about six months (which seemed like so much longer), and finally, God brought us to the house He had in mind for us.

We love it. It boasts an additional bedroom and a great rec space for the kids so that the adults can stake our claim in a crumb-free zone. (we'll see how long it stays that way) It's a peaceful place, and for the first time in my adult life minus one year, I do not have to share a wall with any neighboring residents. The kids are released to be the free-range chaos they were intended to be without fear of hushing. My husband finally has the office he has long deserved.

Change, though, is hard! As I watched my pasta over cook, I had my husband running to the van to see if he could find the box with our colander in it. I can't find the light switches, and I have this strange sensation that I ought to be wearing flip-flops in the shower. We live in a different part of town, so I'm unfamiliar with the local grocery store or the fastest route to school. I had to switch Walgreens, which just makes me feel like I'm cheating on my old one! Even the kids, as adaptable as they are, are stretching for a full night's sleep with all of the new noises to wake them.

As a child, I relied on predictability for survival. Anyone who has grown up in the throws of violence understands the over-trained ability to read body language and mood shifts in the room. If I knew what was coming, even if it was painful, I could at least prepare. Some of my most terrifying memories from childhood involve being caught off guard in one way or another. I still live most days in a state of hyper-awareness. I sense shifts in atmosphere like a deer with a flickering tail, ever ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. And, of course, it affects my spiritual outlook.

We all inherently associate God with our primary childhood guardians. I had read about the Lord who turned women into pillars of salt for looking over their shoulders and ruined cities and made fish eat people. I paralleled God with an angry, impulsive, vindictive man - but I was comfortable with that. I knew how to deal with His sort. All I had to do to survive was figure out what pleased Him and made Him angry, and then be sure to do the right things so as to stay in His good graces. Problem is, God's standards are impossibly high.

I had also read about a loving, steadfast, and faithful Father. Oddly, I was less comfortable with this image than the former. I couldn't sort out the dichotomy I saw in destruction and protection, and this seeming changeability made God frighteningly unpredictable. Verses about God's unchanging nature made no sense. Was He just predictably unpredictable?

I had failed to grasp the simple fact that God is not a man. God is LOVE. Not as a descriptor, but as an essential to who He is. I came to know the true heart of God, learning to discard the fears of my past and let go of my false assumptions. See, God is not made in the image of man. He is not a reflection of our nature. We are a reflection of HIS. I had to toss aside everything that I thought I understood about how to approach the throne and trust. God is not to be figured out, but to be believed. Somehow, I had to take Him at His word and hear His heart.

I am finding a truly unchangeable Father. He is not only good, He is always good. He is not only loving, He is always loving.

There are so many changeable things in this world. Life is a breath. Nothing is truly predictable. Change, even of the good kind, happens every single day. And Change is hard. But circumstances to do not change who He is. Through pain and loss and fear and heartache and victory and laughter, God is and always will be the pure, sweet Truth.

God is the rock that we can cling to in the chaos. In the tossing waves and shifting sand, He is the same. There is safety in stability in knowing that when the world falls apart around us, we can look into the eyes of a God who regards us with unwavering adoration. Gone are the days of trembling before the doorknob, terrified to reach out because I did not know what I would get. There is so much comfort in knowing that every, single time I approach the throne of Grace, I will meet the same Lord with the same open arms. Every time.

I sit in my chair in my new house and lean upon the One who remains The Same despite the geographic shift. I pray the protection of The Same over my kids in their new rooms. I trust in The Same traveling down new roads of every kind. Thank God, because I don't want to be afraid any more. 

"You laid earths' foundations a long time ago, and handcrafted the very heavens; You'll still be around when they're long gone, threadbare and discarded like an old suit of clothes. You'll throw them away like a worn-out coat, but year after year you're good as new.  Your servant's children will have a good place to live and their children will be at home with you." (Psalm 102:27, The Message)


"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." (James 1:17, NIV)

hope in the asking

 It's indicative of my past, but I become distant and quiet when things get intense. I was telling a friend just tonight that I have turtle-like characteristics. Have you seen how fast a turtle can move? Not those giant ones, but regular old box turtles. 

When things are going pretty smoothly, I'm cruising along with my neck way out - interacting, committing, experiencing, and leading. 

But when things get crazy, it's like, "POP". The head goes in and the mobility comes to a screeching halt. 

Yeah, it's kind of like that.

Grief is hard. It's hard because it's one of those times when the healthy thing to do is feel all of those nasty negative emotions I try so hard to ignore. I've mentioned this need to get away from pain for fear that it will linger on forever. Learning that it won't makes the process no less uncomfortable - just perhaps less hopeless.

I've thought a lot about whether or not to share what I'm about to share. But this blog has been so much about my heart and journey and God in it, that to keep it to myself seems... dishonest. (This is a personal conviction and not a projection.) I write from the depths of my heart, and right now, this is pretty much what's in the deep of it. 

My husband and I have just recently gone through a miscarriage. Most people didn't even know that I was pregnant, because we kind of like to wait until the first trimester is through before we share. The news was a shock to us. We weren't planning on having any more kids at this point, because we're just so delighted (and busy) with what we have. But, as reality set in, a space was made in my heart for this new little one. 

At our first appointment, the ultrasound showed no heartbeat. The blood work came back with not-so-great results, and we were kept waiting for two weeks until a second ultrasound confirmed what we feared in the first. Little pea grew to about 7 weeks and then stopped. At what would have been about 12 weeks, we decided to let the doctor do a procedure to ensure that I wouldn't end up with further complications. All in all, it has been a heartbreaking and fairly traumatic experience. And I'm not going to lie, it's been faith-shaking. 

During the two weeks of waiting, I was in a fog of shock. To be completely honest, I didn't know what to pray for. I didn't know what I wanted. It sounds so strange, but I could envision my future with a new baby and without. And truthfully, I was terrified to ask for the life of my child and then be let down. I shielded myself from the hope that things could turn out alright. At the same time, this flicker of positive expectation would not die in me. 

I remember standing during the opening praise set at my Bible Study, my hands out in front of me and palms up toward heaven as though I were holding something. I couldn't sing, I could only stand in God's presence and be. I felt God nudge me to ask what I was afraid to ask. The Holy Spirit stirred in me to pray what I was afraid to pray. Hopelessness washed over me as I tried to steel myself for the pain of disappointment. More than anything, I did not want to be hurt again. 

God is gentle and good and persistent. I can't describe it, but in my spirit I heard Him say, "Just ask me". It wasn't accompanied by a promise, like "Just ask me and it'll be Ok". In fact, I had no peace either way about the outcome. But God was challenging me on my fear. He just wanted me to trust Him enough to ask. So in that moment, I prayed, "Lord, please let this baby live."

That's when the tears came. For the first time in all of the confusion and chaos, I collapsed before my God and let myself be vulnerable to Him. It was the first time I had really surrendered the situation to Him - and it came in the form of a request. 

See, as long as I was playing my cards close to my chest, I still had control of the game. Feigning indifference allowed me to say, "Ok God, whatever you think is best" in a very flippant and detached manner. It looks like faith. But it's not honest. It's the surrender of a conquered soul, not a soul won by love. It speaks to defeat, not faith.

In asking for what my heart truly wanted, I set myself up for hope. I chose to place a dream in the hands of my Father and fully trust Him with the outcome. I also set myself up for disappointment and heartbreak and loss. And it was really, really hard. 

Ultimately, I did not get what I asked for. I have no idea why. But honestly, seriously, I love my Lord as much now as ever. I trust Him, because I know that He heard me and He holds our future. We lost our baby, but I did not lose HOPE. And maybe that's the beauty for these ashes. Maybe my defeatist surrender would have yielded a cold distance between me and God. As it is, I can pound on His chest and scream my questions at Him, but I'm close enough that I can feel His warmth and He can wrap His arms around my soul and minister healing. 

Grief is hard. And healing from this loss will be a process. And God is right here with me.

Psalm 34:18

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Audrey Assad

With so much victory behind me, sometimes I feel like I have to put on a brave face, when in reality, things just really hurt. I trust my Lord, my heart is full of faith, and He knows that. But today, He just let me cry. And I feel better. :)

waiting it out

I guess I've drifted into "survival mode". It's the moment-to-moment careful distribution of time and energy to my top 10 priorities in life while everything else gets put on pause. Our family is going through some pretty major shifts right now. There are a lot of unknowns about Kurt's job (he's got one, just thinking about a change), where to live, where the kids will go to school, financial stuff, health stuff, kids stuff - the whole nine. Most of these changes are positive and exciting, but still unknown. I know that God has some pretty major things lined up for us in the next year, and I'm finding myself anxious to see how the end reads.

Last weekend, I went camping with my son, Alex, for Scouts. He's a Weebelo, which is the transition between the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts. All of the Weebelos in the district went down to Camp Wakonda to spend time with a "brother" Boy Scout troop and learn the ropes from the older kids. It's like a mini college recruitment. Kurt had camped the weekend before and had some obligations on Saturday, so I decided to go with Alex. We packed up the bare essentials - sleeping bag, change of clothes, tent, flashlight, lantern, bug spray, and water and took off. We honestly didn't bring much else. The Scouts are all about doing it au naturale.

Alex and I set up camp just fine, and he played night tag with the kids while I sat with some of the other parents and talked. We had a cracker barrel and laid ground rules and it was TAPS at 10:30. As diva as I can be, I really like sleeping outdoors. The tent walls were thin enough that I could see the full moon like a far away glow inching across the tent ceiling. It was about 65 degrees on a perfect late summer night. The cicadas and crickets were a racket, but somehow it all lulled me to sleep.

About 1:30 am, I woke up to what sounded like a car wash. A storm had blown in and rain was pelting the tent. I flicked on our lantern and took a look around the tent, fully expecting to see a half inch of standing water. Thankfully, we were mostly dry. I inspected the gear and made sure nothing was touching the sides of the tent that could leech water in. Finally, I laid back down and listened to the pouring rain. The wind started to pick up and blow our roof-flap around. The sides of the tent started to shake, and thunder crashed overhead. My heart pounded. I felt as vulnerable as if I'd been standing under a hand-held umbrella.

Around 3:00 am, I gave up on sleeping and started thinking about a strategy. The storm showed no sign of letting up, and I couldn't get a signal on my phone to check the weather. Our camp site was a good 200 yard walk from the car. There was no way I was going to be able to salvage myself, Alex, and our gear in the downpour. Ultimately, I decided that the best thing we could do - the only thing we could do - was stay in the tent and wait it out.

I found myself lying there waiting for the tent to collapse in on us. I played out a dozen scenarios of what it would be like to find myself under a mess of sopping wet tent material. Would we even be able to breathe or find our way out? I hadn't brought a knife. I only had a couple of emergency ponchos that were like plastic bags with holes in them. My heart pounded away and my eyes strained against the dark, searching for any sign of tent failure.
Although I had been praying the whole time, in those dark hours before dawn, I prayed in earnest. My prayers weren't elaborate or inspired. They were more like a bunch of random pleas and some mild irritation at our misfortune.

Finally, God got through to me. I thought about all of the unknowns in life right now. I thought about the scary changes and the unforeseeable future. And I thought about how, although I was depending on God to keep me safe and dry, I was mostly just lying awake waiting for everything to collapse in on me. I had to smile at how often I do that. How often do I relegate God's protective, divine, and sovereign power to the protection of a tent in a thunderstorm?

God never promised there wouldn't be rain, but He did promise to be our shelter in the storm. And God's shelter is no flimsy tent. It is, comparatively, a five-star penthouse suite in an above-ground fall out shelter in a castle. Even in my own home, I don't fear a thunderstorm.
We lend our faith to things every day. I trust a plywood, glass, tar paper, and shingled house to protect my family during a storm. Why can I not trust God, creator of the universe, with my uncertain future?

We made it through the night dry for the most part. The rain lifted the next morning and quit completely by the afternoon. Of course, the Boy Scouts have a "Be Prepared" mindset and didn't cancel any of the planned activities. We did them in the mud and rain. I didn't mind the weather, though. Sure I was a little chilly and uncomfortable, but I was not afraid. I find that almost anything is endurable when fear is removed from the equation, because in the absence of fear is God's perfect, inexplicable peace. Learning to walk in that peace is one of the great lessons of my life.

Psalm 27:4-5 (NIV)


One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.


For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.

summer scoop

Things have been pretty crazy on all fronts. The summer is going really well so far, all things considered. The kids are happy and pretty entertained, I've had the opportunity to spend some time with good friends, the kids went to VBS, I passed my first two classes with high scores, and we have a family reunion coming up. Many of my fears have abated, though, I must admit to a little nervous tummy at night in anticipation of the next day's unpredictability.

Somehow, though I couldn't say how exactly, things are always moving! Maybe it's the constant hum of three little ones in the house, or the non-stop morning till night always feeling like there's something to be done. Now that I've finished (on Friday) my first two classes, my stress over school should lighten significantly. But I've noticed a decided decline in my time for quiet with God.
Normally, that is the type of thing I would beat myself up over, like the crumbs in the couch and the dirty laundry piled up in the hallway by the washer. I treasure my time with God - time to read my Bible, time to think, time to pray, time to worship. It honors Him when we give Him the "first fruits" of our days. I feel safe though (and other busy moms in significant ministry positions will back me up on this) in stealing moments of prayer, singing in the car, and snagging a verse or two and holding on to it all week. There are seasons of great intimate time spent with the Lord, and I adore those seasons. And there are seasons where that is less realistic. My heart posture, however, is toward Heaven (most of the time...), and I know that honors God as well.

In the latter seasons, I crave to experience more intimacy with God. To be able to hear His voice as clearly as I did while walking alone outside in St. Louis. To have an opportunity to worship in a corporate setting every single day, and in that expression, to be blessed as I pour my heart out to Him. Time spent doesn't necessarily equal greater intimacy, however for one like me, relatively new at walking hand in hand with God every day, it sure is helpful. Consequently, in this season of "lack of quiet" (I don't want to say "busy", because it sounds like I'm working to accomplish something, and that's not always the case), I sometimes have this question...

"God, are You still there?" 

Does He know I love Him? That I want so badly to do right by Him? That I struggle to receive His Grace and Love in a season where I can't work to earn it? Is He mad at me?
Oh, our enemy can have a hay-day messing with our minds if we start to feel the least bit insecure about our relationship with God.

The truth is, 
He promised never to leave me or forsake me. (Hebrews 13:5)
He promised that nothing can separate me from His love. (Romans 8:38-39)
He promised that I am in right-standing with Him, by virtue of the fact that Christ is my Lord. (Romans 3:22)
He promised that I do not have to earn His love. (Ephesians 1:6)
He promised that I am forgiven - no matter what - the second I ask. (1 John 1:9)

I love this song by Brooke Fraser. (I love a lot of songs by Brooke) The lyrics are profound, and remind me of the everlasting faithfulness of God's love and presence.

Hope it blesses you. :)

asking the tough questions

In my pursuit of a degree in Christian Ministry, I'm enrolled in a "Worldviews" class, which is basically Comparative Religion. I've been asked to take a look at the other major ideologies, dogmas, and philosophies of our age. I've been studying Evangelical Christianity and the Christian Theist worldview - picking it apart step by step and then holding it up to the scrutiny of others to discover why, in the light of so many options, I have chosen Christianity. 

Philosophically, it's frustrating. Academically, it's a challenge. Spiritually, it's an intense exercise. I've had to ask myself some pretty tough questions over the last month, but the faithfulness of God is unmatched. As I look to the other "answers" the world has to offer, I fall deeper in love with God. Deeper in love with His heart toward us. Deeper in love with the great lengths He went to bring us back to Him. So yes, I'm still a Christian, and I'm more appreciative of my faith than ever before. 

"But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect..." 1 Peter 3:15

One of the great issues I've had to tackle in my faith walk has been "suffering".  I've shared in my testimony "About Me" page, that I endured some pretty severe trauma as a child, teen, and young adult. By the time I was ten years old, I was entertaining suicidal thoughts, having already been mistreated for eight years. God gave me a very strong will, however, so when my perpetrators put me in a position that even I in my confusion and fear found to be abhorrent, I protested. Needless to say, "no" was not an answer back then. The summer I was 10 years old, I spent in almost 24 hour captivity and torture. The goal of my abusers was to break my spirit. They wanted complete, unquestioned submission, so they were going to prove to me that I was powerless. My mother had lead me to the Lord when I was five years old, so I had a foundation of faith. I prayed and prayed for God to rescue me, but things got worse and worse. The enemy, through his puppets on Earth, systematically dismantled my hope that summer. I learned not to want anything. Not physical comfort, affection, entertainment, attention, social interaction, kindness, love. And I learned not to need anything. Not food, water, air, sunlight, sleep. I learned that wishing was pointless, prayer was useless, and I was powerless. 

I can not, in any way that would make sense to anyone else, explain the reason that "God would let that happen to an innocent child". I've cried out to Him since then, demanding an answer. But instead of some kind of justification, the Lord was gracious enough to show me His heart. I caught in a moment His immense grief over the situation - more an intense emotion than I've ever been able to feel for myself. 

My personal belief is that God does not cause anyone to suffer - even for the "greater good".  

There is nothing in the character of God that would suggest that He brings about calamity to teach a lesson. Here's what I know: The world is an evil place, but God is good. We are subject to that evil temporarily because we live on planet earth, but God is eternally sovereign. He has prepared a place of perfection, and He has promised to bring good out of every situation. Sh-t happens, but it does not change the fundamental character of God. He is incapable of creating bad. Everything evil in this world was our Enemy's idea, and if God intervened and stopped every evil thing from happening, He would be interrupting His promise to allow us free will - a promise He made out of love. 

Scripture says that Christ was "delivered to death", suggesting a passing off from the perfection of God's economy to the destruction of the world's. "He [Christ] was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification". Romans 4:25 I don't know if that makes sense, but I'm saying God didn't cause Jesus to be killed, even for us. God gave His only Son to this broken World (temporarily) where the evil of this world could have its way with Him. BUT, in the end, the Power of God conquered the evil of this world, setting in motion His plan to eradicate evil once and for all.

What about natural disasters like New Orleans and Haiti? (things that have been deemed an "act of God") The Bible calls these things "birth pains" signifying what will become a new heaven and a new earth. It doesn't mean God wants His people to suffer, or that He doesn't grieve intensely over every single lost soul.  

"Then he said to them: 'Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven... There will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.  At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.  When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." (Luke 21: 10-11 and 25-28)

I didn't understand this truth - especially at 10 years old. I assumed either God couldn't save me, or worse, I wasn't worth saving. I had great faith in the God of the Bible, so I knew he could make the Red Sea part and raise Lazarus from the dead. My suspicion was less in God's character and capability as it was in my own worthiness. I had done something terribly, terribly wrong to deserve the torture. 

That lie haunted the deepest reaches of my heart where shame kept it vaulted away from even my own consciousness.  In order to allow God to reach that place in my heart, I had to go back and reveal to Him the pain of that summer, the incredible shame I felt, and the many, many questions I had. 

At first, it was easier to accept my own fault, because it allowed my picture of God to remain intact. As I understood my own value, I began to question God's. And I think that's a fairly common progression of thought. 

I was tempted to believe that God was a catalyst to set the world in motion and then left it to spin on its own. I wanted to believe that God was dead and the things that happened to me were bad luck or chance. He couldn't rescue me because He didn't exist. I wanted to believe that maybe it was just Karmic justice. Maybe I had been a kitten murderer in another life. (I say that tongue in cheek, but there was some truth to that hope) 

Ultimately, it wasn't by reason or philosophy or by intellect that I learned the Truth. It was learning to trust in my Abba, God, just enough to rest my head on His chest and listen to His heart. And I wilted into arms that said, "I love you. I hate that you were hurt. I'm going to make it right. Please, baby, just trust me." And the power of the Holy Spirit, our Comforter, spoke peace into my soul. 

He spoke Truth and faith and assured me of the things I wanted so desperately to hold onto as a child. Slowly, all of the hope I lost when I was 10 came back. All of that shame and fear and pain, though I remember it vividly and with grief in my heart, lost its power over me. I was able to rest in the arms of a trust-worthy God.

My faith is justifiable by rhetoric and philosophy. It's argumentable by Scripture. But the ultimate stand of my Faith, is that I worship a LIVING God, who takes an active role in revealing Himself to us. It is by that revelation my faith is strengthened and matured. And no other god in the world can offer personal revelation. Even transcendental meditation whereby a person seeks to empty themselves and become one with the One Being, there is no revelation by a personal, loving, good, God. Their One Being can't cradle them in His arms and cry with them, and that's exactly what my Abba did with me on the front porch in the rain.

I didn't really intend to go this direction with this post, but maybe someone needed to hear it.

I share my heart, because I know that my experiences aren't unique. God's longs to reveal Himself to each one of us - in different ways in different times, but the same non-the-less. My encouragement to anyone who may come across this post is to keep seeking, keep asking. Don't let the cynicism of this age strip your hope from you. That's no worse than being held physically captive. Fight against the lies. Fight to find the Truth, because He's offering it. 

God bless you all, I love you dearly.

50th Post!!

It's my 50th post! Which is an appropriate landmark, because I've had kind of a landmark day!

I've been so busy writing for school, that I haven't had much thought or energy for what to write on my blog! As I was in my quiet time today, I was praying about what the topic for this week should be. Nothing really jumped out at me. I've been hammering out several hundred words per day in essays, debate postings, and discussions, so the creative well has been a little bit dry. At the same time, I always feel like I'm neglecting to share all that God is doing when I don't make time to blog. So I keep my heart continually open for what God would have me write.

It has been a goal of mine, ever since coming back from St. Louis, to get rid of some of the negative artifacts of my past life. In talking to a friend who also grew up as a military kid, I realize that I hold onto keep sakes with real tenacity. There were so many times in moving around that I was asked to say goodbye to someone I would never see again. I have a couple of friends from the first fifteen years of my life, but most of the people, places, and things that I treasured from that time are gone. I've also lost quite a bit of memory to the PTSD fog that surrounds the chronic trauma I experienced. In that, journals, knickknacks, jewelry, pictures, and other things become overly important. I become fearful that if I don't hold onto that scrap of paper, the memory of that time will be lost forever. Abbey put it really well when she said, "I just know that my memories don't do it justice". I feel that I need something tangible to hold on to.

There are certain things, however, that are better left in the past. I have written in journals diligently from 1998 to now. Some of those years, particularly between 2006-2009, hold very dark moments of total despair. I wrote things, drew things, and recorded experiences from that time that still hold leverage over me, and God has brought me to a place where I'm ready to let those things go. Not all of it, but certain entries that are the very opposite of life-giving. Hear me: I'm not saying that it's wrong for anyone to keep things that remind them of tough times in life. But for me, at this point, I felt the Lord saying, "It's time to move on".  I have such strong negative associations to certain things that I wrote and drew - things God has already brought me through and out of - that to go back there would just be rehashing things He has already laid to rest.

It's different for everyone. Sometimes, in letting go of a past relationship, we have to get rid of clothing or pictures that remind us of that person. Sometimes, it's getting rid of music or movies that take us to a dangerous place. For me, it was getting rid of certain pieces of jewelry, certain images, and certain journal entries.  I made sure that I was not alone, and I was prayerfully supported. I put on some worship music and started in my sketchbooks, tearing out anything I felt "check" in my spirit.
It was pretty obvious.

Once it was all said and done, I had a small box full of papers I never needed to see again. I wanted to burn them and get rid of them, but living within city limits doesn't allow for back yard bonfires. Somehow, though, I needed those papers destroyed. So the Holy Spirit prompted me to soak them in the tub. As I immersed those records in the water, I watched the ink slide off the page and one of my entire journals just slide out of its binding. I felt like that particular aspect of my past was literally being washed away.

Still not really knowing what to think or feel, I heard the Lord speak to me the phrase, "letting go of the former things..."  I looked up the reference in my concordance, and I found this in the Message Version of my Bible.

"You learned Christ! My assumption is that you have paid careful attention to him, been well instructed in the truth precisely as we have it in Jesus. Since, then, we do not have the excuse of ignorance, everything - and I do mean everything - connected with that old way of life has to go.  It's rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life - a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you."  Ephesians 4:20-24 (The Message)

Thank You, God, that you have given me an entirely new way of life, and that You've given me the grace to get ride of the old things. It's been quite a journey, and I know You're not finished with me yet.
I am so excited for what is to come. I know You have great and wonderful plans in store for those of us who call ourselves Yours.

mom's day

Mother's Day is a very big day. I know how women are. This is one particular day out of the year that we have purpose to become hyper-introspective.  

We think about our moms. Maybe we knew her, maybe we didn't, maybe we had more than one. Maybe we had a "mom" that wasn't our "mom". We think about our childhoods. (Sometimes whether we want to or not!)  What our moms did that we will NEVER do. What went well, and what we appreciate now that we didn't then.

And we think about being or becoming a mom.  Nothing will bring more women to tears for more different reasons than meditating on that subject.  Maybe we don't ever want children, or maybe we have children we weren't expecting.  Maybe we can't wait to start having children, or maybe the trying has been heartbreaking. Maybe we're grateful for the kids we have, and maybe we're mourning the ones we've lost. Maybe we know we can never give birth to a child, but we mother none-the-less.

Guarantee that, by and large, guys do not go through the emotional overhaul on Father's Day that we ladies do on Mother's Day.  If they get emotional about "fathers", it's usually during "Into the Wild" or  "Hannah Montana, The Movie".  (You think I'm kidding. Tears. Actual Tears.)
I know I'm not being fair to the guys and their powers of introspection. LOL
It's just that women have the instinctive intuitive ability to turn any occasion into An Occasion.

In all honesty, I can only speak from my own experience as a woman. I feel like God carved out a space on the inside of me, and there is a deeply running river that ties me to my identity as a daughter and a mother. It rings out in a place beyond what I can see and describe.  It is deeply personal and deeply sacred.  And I believe that God intended for it to be this way! He gave us parents to give substance to an indescribable God. We understand God by coming to understand our parents. For better or worse, unfortunately.  And He gave moms supernatural grace to love the way He loves - whatever the object of that love may be.  The world is a flawed place. God's design is not.

Today, I am grateful. I feel a lot of things, but most prominently, I am grateful. I am the daughter of a mom I have never met and an adopted mom who loves me deeply. I am a mother to three astounding kids sleeping snug in their beds as I write and three in a place more perfect than I can imagine. And most importantly, I am the daughter of the Most High God.  I have so much to be grateful for.

To anyone woman who may read this post: 

Whatever your situation was and is, know that there is one constant you can cling to today. If you've given your heart to Jesus Christ, you can rest in the knowledge that you are now and forever the daughter of the King. And when the whole earth fades away, He remains.

If you've loved and lost, whether in dreams or in this life, I'm so very sorry. You are not alone in your grief. God's heart is for his daughters.  He is not asking you to put away the pain. He invites you to share it with Him, to pour out your heart to Him, and then trust Him to lead you forward.

And if you think you are not a mother, you are. Look around at the ones you have loved without payback or gain. The ones you have loved who have made a mess, but it didn't change a thing. The ones you have held and comforted and patched up a wound. You may not have the title "Mom", but you have a mommy's heart. So I honor you today just the same.

From my heart to yours,
Emily

see through

I've had several different posts in mind but haven't gotten around to formulating any of them into real, whole sentences. Hopefully this will be legible. :) Thanks for sticking by me.

I gotta say, God's way always looks different than I think it's going to. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but I'm realizing how idealistic I can be. It is a blessing and a curse. Optimism hopes for the best, but Idealism sort of expects it. There is a picture in my head of how I thing things ought to go. A narrative plays out in my mind - usually following the plot of a sitcom or romantic comedy - well before events actually take place. I rehearse conversations. (I know I'm not the only one) But when the gloves come off, reality can be either really boring, really uncomfortable, or really disappointing.
Hear me out: I'm not saying that I'm perpetually deflated. Uncomfortable is a good thing. It means that I'm in a place of growth. Boring and disappointing are my own fault. I set myself up for those.

God gave me a vision a while back, around 2004. (I think) I'm not usually one prone to visions, but I held this one close to my heart, asking God over time to reveal the meaning to me. I'd explain it in detail, but it'd be meaningless to you. Additionally, Joseph got sold into slavery when he shared his vision, so...

The long and short of it, is that I knew God would be refining me to be in a position to help others. On a grand scale or a small one, I don't know. In what capacity exactly, I'm unsure. But it's been amazing to see it play out over the past 6 or 7 years. Coming home from Mercy, I knew that something dramatic had happened in my life. I feel like I'm closer than ever to seeing that vision fulfilled.  Of course, in my idealistic dreams, I am a put-together, spiffy, organized and collected woman of influence. I see myself in a trendy natural fiber tunic sipping overpriced coffee and laughing as I share a witty piece of wisdom with a girl in need.  I see my kids lying on their stomachs on the spotless living room carpet reading their assignments while I draft my second book on my laptop.  For some reason, I have glasses on my head, even though I don't use reading glasses. There is always a lot of sunlight in my dreams.

That is SO not how life works. Every now and then, I'll get the opportunity to talk to someone who has been reading this blog, face to face. Maybe I don't know them very well, or maybe we've been friends for years, but sometimes they'll tell me how it has helped them or that they enjoyed it. Looking at the face of someone who reads my stuff is really uncomfortable! I put my heart and soul "out there" on this blog. I'm vulnerable, but it's safe because it's relatively anonymous. Somehow my words here belong to a segregated time and space. I'm surprised at how tongue tied I get by face to face comments! But it's so good for me. Not for the ego boost, but because it's actually really, really humbling to know that God is using me to speak His truth. It blesses me so much, no matter how naked I feel.

Something else happened recently that threw me for a loop. While at Mercy, I got the opportunity to meet a woman named Charlotte Gambill. She really made an impact on me, so I introduced myself to her. After seeing her for the second time at a women's conference, she asked me to email her. Four months of procrastination, and I finally did. I'm not sure what made me finally write to her, but God knows. Turns out, she "happened" to be in Nashville visiting the Mercy house there, and she shared my email with Nancy Alcorn (President and Founder of Mercy Ministries).  Nancy emailed me a sweet note and asked if she could post my letter on her blog. I agreed, excited to give back to the ministry that had so dramatically changed my life.  Within two hours, the new blog post announcement pops up on my twitter feed.

My stomach dropped through the floor. I clicked over to it, and there was my letter (for the most part), spelling out my testimony for Nancy's world to see. She didn't use my last name, of course, but she did post a photo. Reading through the letter, I realized that I had given a lot more detail than I would have usually, because I wrote it for an audience of one.  I panicked.  Kurt was sitting right beside me, and he was quite soothing and rational. I worked through my fears and audibly gave it over to God.

Driving in the car later, my prayer went something like this:
   "Lord, I thought that sharing my testimony would feel different. I thought that bragging about what You did would be fun! Why do I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin? Ahhh! Jesus! You did this, right? I mean, it's all going to be ok, right?"

I paused for a little while and listened while the Holy Spirit spoke peace and assurance into my heart.
I realized that God knows exactly what I can handle. He is not the type of God to throw me into a role that I am not ready to play. He's giving me these small opportunities to work out my humanity and continue to release control to Him. And it's so much less glamorous than standing behind a glass podium delivering a message of passion and grace. (with glasses on my head, again) It feels so different than I thought it would. But it feels right. And I know that I'm not alone.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 
'As the heaves are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.'" 
Isaiah 55:8


Here's a linkback to Nancy's blog post:  "Awesome Update from Recent Graduate!"

my scars or his?

I was looking at my arms this morning. They carry the scars of the times I tried to "do it myself". I thought about posting a picture, but I remember the gridlock of my battle with the addiction of self-injury, and I do not want to cause anyone to struggle.
Every time I look at them, though, I remember the failed attempts to control, manipulate, and survive this gift of life. Everyone carries scars from the times in their lives that they tried to handle things their own way instead of His way. I don't know that I'd go so far as to call it a "privilege" to carry my scars on my physical body, but it sure is easy to notice. Although, it wouldn't take much soul-searching to find the "hidden" scars as well.

This morning, I woke up to an amazing string of text messages from a friend of mine. They spoke life, authority, support, and encouragements into my circumstances. The thing is, I know that those words didn't just come from her. I know she would agree that they came from the heart of my Father God. One of her last statements was, "you are surely on the heart of God today!"

My husband was getting ready to go out of town for the weekend to help lead worship for our church's youth group retreat. Meanwhile, he's telling me about our son, Alex, who woke up at 5:30 this morning with a very high fever. At the same time, we're getting Isaac off to school and trying to arrange rides for my daughter, Annabelle, to go with her best friend to swimming lessons. It was a whirlwind from just before 8am until just before 10am.  But as the dust settles, and I'm alone in the house with my sleeping son, I am brought to my knees by the simple statement, "you are surely on the heart of God today!"

What? Who am I? I'm one of billions... just trying to live out my life with a heart postured toward Christ. But He reached out to me through this dear friend, knowing that I needed to hear from Him now more than ever. And it's not just her... God speaks to me through so many people all of the time. I just have to be attuned to the tone of His voice.

Oh God, I don't want to do this by myself. I'm responding to your invitation to stand strong in the waterfall of your Grace. Take the lead. I surrender to your magnificence. You have the power to make the sick well, to raise the dead, to forgive sins, and to move the hearts of kings, nations, and mountains. I am nothing without you. I don't want any more scars. I want to do it your way - completely. Lead on, Holy Spirit. I will follow you.


"Remember how you were when you didn't know God, led from one phony god to another, never knowing what you were doing, just doing it because everybody else did it? It's different in this life.  God wants us to use our intelligence, to seek to understand as well as we can.  For instance, by using your heads, you know perfectly well that the Spirit of God would never prompt anyone to say "Jesus be damned!" Nor would anyone be inclined to say "Jesus is Master!" without the insight of the Holy Spirit."  - 1 Corinthians 12: 2-3 (The Message)

"Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them -- living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life...  This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life.  It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike 'What's next, Papa?' God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who He is, and we know who we are: Father and children." - Romans 8:5-7, 15-16 (The Message)

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life - your sleeping, eating, going to work, and walking around life - and place it before God as an offering.  Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for Him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God.  You'll be changed from the inside out." - Romans 12:1-2 (The Message)

expect the unexpected

I know that I have at least two posts that refer to John the Baptist, but there is yet another lesson the Holy Spirit is teaching me through his story.
Yesterday, we started with the book of Mark in the New Testament. It opens with an awesome statement about the foundation of the Christian faith. (As a writer, I can think of no more powerful way to begin a story...)
Mark 1:1 "The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the son of God." BOOM.
Then the second character to grace the stage is John the Baptizer.
Mark 1:4 "And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins."

In early January, I blogged about the significance of the relationship between John the Baptist and Jesus. (linkback)  John and Jesus were cousins, contemporaries, and both in "ministry". The respected one another deeply, each understanding his own role in the kingdom story. John recognized Jesus as the One, the Messiah, when he was still in his mother's womb.  Luke 1:41  He was privy to the voice from heaven that spoke to Jesus in Mark 1:11, saying "You are my Son, whom I love, with you I am well pleased."

All four gospels speak in varying detail about the calling of John as a prophet to prepare the way of the Lord.  John the Baptist knew his role, and he knew the Christ. But I absolutely cannot shake this particular passage out of my mind. It is so profound an example.

John had been arrested and put into prison. Mark 6:17-20 says "Herod himself had given orders to have John arrested, and he had him bound an put in prison. He did the because of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, whom he had married.  For John had been saying to Herod, 'It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife.'"

Jumping over to Matthew 11, we see this interesting exchange.
Matthew 11:2 says, "When John heard in prison what Christ was doing [in all of His miracles], he sent his disciples to ask him, 'Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?'"
(insert mine)

These words are highlighted in magenta for me. Why was John the Baptist sending his disciples to ask Jesus if He was the One? He knew! Of course he knew... it's all over the gospels.

Jesus did not meet John's expectations.  He wanted the Savior to come into the world and kick some Roman tail! He wanted to see God's perfect Kingdom come to earth and end the suffering of the people. He wanted to see Jesus the Christ elevated to King of Israel. In the least his cousin, the Son of God, could get him out of his death sentence.
I can imagine John sitting in a prison dungeon, knowing he is going to die, thinking, "Really, Jesus? You are the Savior of the world. Come save me. I don't deserve to die in here."
I would be thinking the same thing. What an incredibly discouraging time it must have been for our great John.

But Jesus doesn't leap in and spring him for his prison. He doesn't drop everything He's doing in his ministry to try to somehow bail out His friend and cousin.  Jesus must stay true to the calling of His Father. He had to continue to "go about doing good".  See, there was a much larger picture at play. Who knows how things might have played out if Jesus had cancelled His speaking engagements to detour over to Herod's palace?
So Jesus says these words, "Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.  Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me." (Matthew 11:4-6)
In short, Jesus is saying, "I'm doing what I am supposed to be doing. Hold on tight to your faith. It's not invested in vain. Trust God."  I can almost hear the pain that must have shrouded Jesus' voice. He loved John the Baptist.

Sometimes Jesus Christ doesn't come through for me in the way that I'd expect Him to. Sometimes, I'm in so much pain that I ask "Jesus, are you for real?"
Life is crazy. There are amazing victories and crushing defeats. So it goes on planet Earth. But I hear Jesus saying, "Hold on tight to your faith. Trust God." Even when things do not play out the way I expected them to.