What if We Dared to Look Deeply?

This morning she awoke with a different sensation bubbling up in her heart. But it wasn’t what was bubbling that struck her the most; it was this instant recognition that it was drastically divergent from the companions that had been sharing her days for some weeks now, maybe months—actually years if you were brave enough to press in beyond the easy answer and ask “how are you?” more than once, and really mean it.

Apathy. Wandering. A touch of Loneliness. Well, maybe more than a touch. Probably more like the deep end of the pool that sometimes feels like that expanse of ocean experienced when one swims out beyond the break of the waves. There are no sides to hold onto out there when the legs grow weary from treading water. One simply wills him or herself to tread longer, or … sink.

These were some of her companions, but there were others too.

Insanity. Really, just a sense of insanity, but not the kind we call crazy where the mind can’t distinguish thought from reality—the kind that causes a mind to break into pieces and take up residence in the fractured places of darkness. No. This is the heart kind of insanity where what’s offered up and out to be heard and accepted and understood and nurtured bounces back in confusing ways. Ways that speak one thing but demonstrate another. Ways that almost force her to choose between what she hears and what she sees. Ways that allow room for her to grasp at hope for change but often back her into a corner where she has to consider a reality that may not be what she’s built around her. A carefully constructed environment often betrays what lies behind closed doors.

This kind of insanity is dangerously deceptive because while crazy tends to prominently display itself, the heart can hide itself in pretend smiles and creative words that tell a story of what’s longed for but not actually lived out.

And then there are those questions unanswered. Constant questions can spin a mind into a cycle of unknowing that feels endless and exhausting. Questions about what’s been and what is and what will be—and how they all fit together. Questions about what’s true versus what’s believed, and the fact that the forces of life’s winds can twist and bend us until up seems down and down seems up. And we’ll stake our lives, and the lives of those around us, on this upside-down truth. That’s a world with which she’s become far too acquainted. A world she chose to settle into because it seemed as if it were the only option offered. But was it? Is it? What if we don't see other options because we're just not willing to look in a different direction? Many say they see, but how many actually look?

What happens when questions remain unanswered for too long? When not knowing no longer satisfies the often-distorted stability of uncertainty? When the desire for answers trumps unanswered acceptance? A heart can only ask for so long before it just stops asking.

She’s heard it said, “One should not ask a question they don’t want to know the answer to.” And she’s understood for some time now that many happily abide by that suggested life policy, and do so with ease. Many don’t ask because there simply isn’t a desire to know, and she’s been wondering if that’s equally proportional to their desire to not be known. Questions are necessary though—vital actually—to fully living instead of just surviving, to knowing instead of just being.

The mystery of the human heart—just like the Mystery of God—is hidden, not to be forever buried, but to be uncovered by those who desire to search for it and appreciate the adventure; and deep is not meant for those who are content to float on the surface, but too many are.

What if we dared to look deeply and stayed long enough to gain trusted access into this hidden place? We may discover a world that’s pleading to be inhabited, where the ground is lush with life and love, and the soil is fertile for growing so many things new. Where treasure remains unearthed because no one’s yet dug deep enough to find it. Where the fraudulent belief that knowing someone is a finite process actually dissipates and then stretches into the wondrously wild and borderless expanse that was breathed into man by the One who is infinite.

But to many—to most, more often than not—this hidden place is too hazardous a path to travel because it requires a conscious choice to step over awkward and into the delicate and fragile territory of the unchartered human soul. It’s risky business here because easy answers don’t work, and listening is more profitable than being heard, and questions become the shovel to the buried treasure of the heart.

And really, isn’t there some truth to the thought that we’ve been lulled into this belief that comfortable clichés are enough? That communicating knowledge and being heard are the same as being known? And those years marked off on the calendar equal knowing someone instead of what they really are … just time?

I wonder how much would change if we dared to look deeply? 

Let Them Come Home by Abraham Piper

The article below was written by Abraham Piper (John Piper's son). I actually copied it straight from another blog and am keeping it here because it's just so ridiculously powerful and practical.

The following is Abraham’s account written for Decision Magazine.

When I was 19, I decided I’d be honest and stop pretending I was a christian.  At first I pretended that my reasoning was high-minded and philosophical. But really I just wanted to drink gallons of cheap sangria and sleep around. Four years of this and I was strung out, stupefied and generally pretty low. Especially when I was sober or alone.

My parents, (John and Noel Piper) who are strong believers and who raised their kids as well as any parents I’ve ever seen, were brokenhearted and baffled. (See sidebar story below.) I’m sure they were wondering why the child they tried to raise right was such a ridiculous screw-up now. But God was in control.

One Tuesday morning, before 8 o’clock, I went to the library to check my e-mail. I had a message from a girl I’d met a few weeks before, and her e-mail mentioned a verse in Romans. I went down to the Circle K and bought a 40-ounce can of Miller High Life for $1.29. Then I went back to where I was staying, rolled a few cigarettes, cracked open my drink, and started reading Romans. I wanted to read the verse from the e-mail, but I couldn’t remember what it was, so I started at the beginning of the book. By the time I got to chapter 10, the beer was gone, the ashtray needed emptying and I was a Christian.

The best way I know to describe what happened to me that morning is that God made it possible for me to love Jesus. When He makes this possible and at the same time gives you a glimpse of the true wonder of Jesus, it is impossible to resist His call.

Looking back on my years of rejecting Christ, I offer these suggestions to help you reach out to your wayward child so that they, too, would wake up to Christ’s amazing power to save even the worst of us.

1. Point them to Christ.

Your rebellious child’s real problem is not drugs or sex or cigarettes or porn or laziness or crime or cussing or slovenliness or homosexuality or being in a punk band. The real problem is that your child doesn’t see Jesus clearly. The best thing you can do for rebellious children—and the only reason to follow any of these suggestions—is to show them Christ. It won’t be simple or immediate, but the sins in their life that distress you and destroy them will begin to disappear only when they see Jesus more as He actually is.

2. Pray.

Only God can save your children, so keep on asking Him to display Himself to them in a way they can’t resist worshiping Him for.

3. Acknowledge that something is wrong.

When your daughter rejects Jesus, don’t pretend that everything is fine.

If you know she’s not a believer and you’re not reaching out to her, then start. And never stop. Don’t ignore her unbelief. Ignoring it might make holidays easier, but not eternity.

4. Don’t expect them to be Christlike.

If your son is not a Christian, he won’t act like one, and it’s hypocrisy if he does. If he has forsaken your faith, he has little motivation to live by your standards, and you have little reason to expect him to.

If he’s struggling to believe in Jesus, there is little significance in his admitting that it’s wrong to get wasted, for instance. You want to protect him, yes, but his most dangerous problem is unbelief—not partying. No matter how your child’s behavior proves his unbelief, always be sure to focus more on his heart’s sickness than its symptoms

5. Welcome them home.

Because your deepest concern is your son’s heart, not his actions, don’t create too many requirements for coming home. If he has any inkling to be with you, don’t make it hard for him. God may use your love to call him back to Christ. Obviously there are instances when parents must give ultimatums: “Don’t come to this house, if you are …” But these will be rare. Don’t lessen the likelihood of an opportunity to be with your child by pushing him away with rules.

If your daughter stinks like weed or an ashtray, spray her jacket with Febreeze and change the sheets when she leaves, but let her come home. If you find out she’s pregnant, then buy her folic acid, take her to her 20-week ultrasound, protect her from Planned Parenthood, and by all means let her come home. If your son is broke because he spent all the money you lent him on loose women and ritzy liquor, then forgive his debt as you’ve been forgiven, don’t give him any more money—and let him come home. If he hasn’t been around for a week and a half because he’s been staying at his girlfriend’s—or boyfriend’s—apartment, urge him not to go back, and let him come home.

6. Plead with them more than you rebuke them.

Be gentle in your disappointment.

What concerns you most is that your child is destroying herself, not that she’s breaking rules. Treat her in a way that makes this clear. She probably knows—especially if she was raised as a Christian—that what she’s doing is wrong. And she definitely knows you think it is, so she doesn’t need this pointed out. She needs to see how you are going to react to her evil. Your gentle forbearance and sorrowful hope will show her that you really do trust Jesus.

Her conscience can condemn her by itself. Your role is to stand kindly and firmly, always living in the hope that you want your child to return to.

7. Connect them to other believers.

Obviously, you are distant from your wayward child; otherwise you wouldn’t think they’re wayward. This is another reason why pleading is better than rebuking—your relationship with your rebellious child is tenuous and should be protected if at all possible.

But rebuke is still necessary. A lot of rebellious kids would do well to hear that they’re being fools, but you’re probably not the one to tell them. Try to keep other Christians in their lives and trust God to connect your son or daughter with a believer who can point out your child’s folly without getting the door slammed on them.

8. Respect their friends.

Of course your daughter’s relationships are founded on sin. And, yes, her friends are bad for her. But she’s bad for them, too. And nothing will be solved by making it evident that you don’t like who she’s hanging around with.

Be hospitable. Her friends are someone else’s wayward children, and they need Jesus, too.

9. E-mail them.

When you read something in the Bible that encourages you and helps you love Jesus more, write it up in a couple of lines and send it to your child. The best exhortation—better than any correction—is for them to see Christ’s joy in your life

Don’t stress out when you’re composing these as if each one needs to be singularly powerful. Just whip them out and let the cumulative effect of your satisfaction in God gather up in your child’s inbox. God’s Word is never useless.

10. Take them to lunch.

If possible, don’t let your only interaction with your child be electronic. Get together with him face to face if you can. You may think this is stressful and uncomfortable, but trust me that it’s far worse to be in the child’s shoes—he is experiencing all the same discomfort, but compounded by guilt. So if he is willing to get together with you for lunch, praise God, and use the opportunity.

It may almost feel hypocritical to talk about his daily life, since what you really care about is his eternal life, but be sure to do it anyway. He needs to know you care about all of him. Then, before lunch is over, ask about his soul. You don’t know how he’ll respond. Will he roll his eyes like you’re a moron? Will he get mad and leave? Or has God been working in him since you talked last? You don’t know until you risk asking. God will give you the gumption.

11. Take an interest in their pursuits.

Odds are that if your daughter is purposefully rejecting Christ, then the way she spends her time will disappoint you. Nevertheless, find the value in her interests, if possible, and encourage her. You went to her school plays and soccer games when she was 10; what can you do now that she’s 20 to show that you still really care about her interests?

Jesus spent time with tax collectors and prostitutes, and He wasn’t even related to them. Imitate Christ by being the kind of parent who will put some earplugs in your pocket and head downtown to where your daughter’s CD release show is. Encourage her and never stop praying that she will begin to use her gifts for Jesus’ glory instead of her own.

12. Point them to Christ.

This can’t be stressed enough. It’s the whole point. No strategy for reaching your son or daughter will have any lasting effect if the underlying goal isn’t to help them know Jesus.

The goal is not that they will be good kids again. It’s not that they’ll get their hair cut and start taking showers; it’s not that they’ll like classical music instead of deathcore; it’s not that they’ll vote conservative again by the next election. The goal is not for you to stop being embarrassed at your weekly Bible study or even for you to be able to sleep at night, knowing they’re not going to hell.

The only ultimate reason to pray for them, welcome them, plead with them, eat with them, or take an interest in their interests is so that their eyes will be opened to Jesus Christ.

And not only is He the only point, but He’s the only hope. When they see the wonder of Jesus, satisfaction will be redefined. He Himself will replace the money, or the praise of man, or the high, or the sex that they are staking their eternities on right now. Only His grace can draw them from their perilous pursuits and bind them safely to Him—captive, but satisfied.

God will do this for many. Be faithful and don’t give up.

This Little Light of Mine

In the beginning was the one who is called the Word. The Word was with God and was truly God. From the very beginning the Word was with God. And with this Word, God created all things. Nothing was made without the Word. Everything that was created received its life from him, and his life gave light to everyone. The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out. 
John 1:1-5

Dark or darkness in this passage is described as this: metaphor used of ignorance of divine things, and its associated wickedness.

The verse that I highlighted above stopped me in my reading tracks this morning. I read it over and over again and let it settle into my heart. "The light keeps shining" and "darkness has never put it out". Memories of the times I've allowed darkness to put out my light or even seep in and become the primary source began to roll across my mind.

There is one event--that is both past and present--that this verse touches and causes me to examine. While I'm going to protect those who haven't given permission to share their side of the story, I can refer to this event as 'the broken relationship', and this broken relationship is a very present source of emotional roller coaster rides for me. From confusion to anger to pain to apathy, since last November my heart hasn't settled, and more often that not, when I think of this relationship I feel anger--which I know from my Freedom journey with Gateway, that this really points to a wound.

I'm not writing now to mull over the details of this brokenness or its accompanying emotions, but to jot down what Holy Spirit impressed within me as I read the above words. If you back up just one verse we read that "his (Jesus) life gave light to everyone." Simply put, since our life comes from Jesus and that life is light, then darkness should never be able to put our lights, just like it couldn't with Jesus.

The other day I was reading a favorite blog author and came across this golden nugget--among a multitude of nuggets: Reaching a point where you say "enough" to a toxic environment is not cowardly--it is so very brave. [Jen Hatmaker, When Is It Time to Walk Away?, April 21, 2103]

Read the post and you'll see that she's not giving permission to throw in the towel because a relationship is hard work. What she is stating is that there sometimes comes a point in the brokenness where it just may be the wisest decision to either remove yourself from within it or give permission for it to no longer be a part of your life. This line spoke right to the 'broken relationship' and that place in my heart that just keeps turning it over and again.

I have not thought of the decision that was made last November regarding this 'broken relationship' as brave, but cowardly--or just finally giving in and consequently ... giving up. Much has been deposited into my heart since that time, each golden nugget making sense and resonating, but not capping the well, so to speak. This particular sentence settled deeply within me, but was still missing the mark by 'thismuch'.

And then today... the revelation that the light keeps shining and is never put out by darkness, combined with the above golden nugget and the understanding I've received about blame and control with relationships, put a period at the end of this punctuationless (my made up word) sentence that's been hindering me since November.

"Enough" was both asked for and given almost six months ago. I understand now that it was not cowardly on our parts, but necessary to the health of the rest of our family, and to the party asking/demanding said release. I cannot control someone's feelings for or against me, but I do have control over what I do with mine. I also cannot walk another's journey to freedom and healing, but I have full control over the freedom and healing that I choose to pursue, or not. So I will choose to release the stranglehold of negative emotions and pursue true healing (from the hurt I hold) and freedom (from the negative emotions attached to it).

And this light? Well, I've let the darkness of this situation cast a shadow for too long over the light that is supposed to overcome darkness, and in that allowing of the presence of the shadow, the light in my life has been dimmed and has kept me from praying for a 'light revelation' for the other one.

Is there a situation or relationship in your life that God may be asking you to let go of? He may be telling you it's time to let it go for good, or He may be asking you to release it for a season so that there's room for Him to work in that space. That's for Him to speak to you, and no two situations are the same. Just because we label something broken doesn't mean it's immune from redemption or resurrection. Regardless of the permanency or temporal answer, what God doesn't desire is for a shadow of darkness to overcome the light of Jesus inside of us, and the light we are called to be to and for others.

Two weeks before the night of the 'broken relationship', God gave me a verse--a promise--that, unknown to me at that time, spoke right to the situation that was going to occur. He was laying down a red carpet of promise along the path of brokenness to keep our hearts steady and focused on and encouraged by the One who's word never returns void.

His Word keeps our light shining in the darkness.

On Guns and Bullets

The words shot out at the screen. BAM! BAM! BAM! They weren't focused on the quality of the script or the cinematography efforts of the film being watched, but instead aimed at one of the characters within the story. Like bullets being shot out of a gun pointed directly at the female lead, each sentence was pulling the trigger at her assumed affiliation with a world view that didn't match the gun holder's. And the gun holder was letting her (and us) know it.

what? why?

I love a good story, whether I get the opportunity to read it in a book or see it on the big screen or rent it from Redbox ... I love a good story. I love well written characters and plot lines and intentional pacing. And I most love stories that make me think--that cause me to question where I currently stand on a life matter or even shake the foundation of the easy, American-styled life I live.

But that gun ... and those bullets? They were filled with a personal disgust for the fictional character's decisions, and they made me immediately question why?

What causes a soul to become so rankled by a fictional movie?
How can a fabricated character crawl under skin so easily?
What does she represent that provokes judgment?
Why does there seem to be an air of satisfaction at her suffering?

The human character is complex. As I walk through this season of life, I am even more aware of that fact. And I believe we are so complex, in part, because glory highlights flaws. And one can't see truth without recognizing the lie. And words are always revealing.

This is not judgment, but perspective. Those words could have come from me. Those kinds of words have come from me.

I've heard it said that the way we judge others is really just a [re]presentation of the way we judge ourselves--the way not being the particulars, but the heart attitude. When judgment towards others is harsh, does that mean we are just as harsh with ourselves, or even more so?

As I journey deeper into my relationship with Jesus, my spirit is becoming more and more sensitive to words. I find myself listening not to just what's being said, but becoming actively attentive to hear what is being revealed by what's being said. Scripture states that anything that proceeds from the mouth proceeds from the heart (Matthew 15:18). Trust me when I declare that my words have betrayed my heart too many times in the past and still do to this day ... and the cleansing of the foul muck in my heart is a huge part of my Jesus journey here on earth. I am not innocent in this area and I do not take pride in it either; I'm just choosing not to hide from it.

I want to hear others with an openness to origination and revelation. I want to hear myself the way I want to hear others--to know my words' origins and to be changed at the core by their revelation. I want to hear, not so I can judge, but grow.

Hope Allows

5:12am. Wednesday. January 30.

I woke up at 3:30am with my head and heart very actively engaged in processing life. Yesterday was a difficult day in our family as we processed news that played out completely different than what we had anticipated, even expected.

In this world of so much heartbreak and suffering, our news was not earth shattering, but it was still disappointing. Our sophomore, who has grown up with a baseball in one hand and a glove on the other, was given news that his place on this year's high school team is one of demotion, not promotion: 2nd string catcher on the 3rd of three teams. Basically, he received the last available slot for his position on the high school roster ... one step away from having been cut altogether.

Receiving his one-word text "JV2", my heart immediately dropped for him. After a series of questions and short replies between him and me, his astonishment and discouragement were evident. This was not the news he was expecting to hear as he stepped inside the coach's office yesterday morning. With an entire school day and first after school practice still ahead, those of us at home were left with more questions than answers (as I'm sure my sophomore was too).

How? What happened?

By the time I picked him up from school ten hours later, my heart was more concerned for how he was doing and feeling than figuring out the roster results. He was downcast, defeated, discouraged and angry. I know anger; it's how we process pain when we don't know what to do with it.

From the time he was two he carried a ball and glove around wherever he went. He watched complete baseball games on TV with his grandpa at age five. He could recite line-ups and player positions of his favorite team, the Angels, at six-years-old. He has lived, breathed and loved the purity of this game for all the years he can remember ... me too.

And then he's basically told that he was "kept in the program" because the new freshman coach highly recommended him; a coach that could only judge him from a few days of tryouts. His talent and skills and 18 months practicing under the watchful eyes of the Varsity coaches hadn't convinced them, but the new coach did. Talk about a blow to his dreams and his hopes and his reality.

His eyes told me all he felt without saying a word. Sliding into the front seat of our car, shoulders slumped and arms loaded with uniform colors he didn't think he'd have to wear again this year, his body language spoke even louder. My heart was breaking badly for my son and I didn't have the words that would make him feel better. Through conversation I could only help him process what neither of us really understood and pray that God would hold his heart and help him process through the pain of disappointment. Life is disappointing and none of us escape that. But gosh, it's so hard to watch one of your children live through it.

So ... this morning. My head. My heart. All those questions and residual heartache. I got up in the dark knowing I was sacrificing sleep for what was more important: I needed to hear from God--needed my soul settled and encouraged, and wanted something to give my sophomore to hold onto today; a piece of God's heart that reminded him to keep looking up, not out.

And then I read this:

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Hebrews 11:1 [NLT]

When you think about the future, are you hopeful? Or do you struggle with a sense of dread? ... A close cousin to fear, dread steals the ability to enjoy ordinary life and makes people anxious about the future. Hope is the opposite of dread, and a close relative of faith. ... Hope allows us to leave our unanswered questions in God's hands; it empowers us to live in peace, and it enables us to believe the best about the days to come. You can have hope when you trust in God's love. He has the power to provide for you and lead you through every situation. [Joyce Meyer]

I don't read that verse and think its inference is that everything we hope for in [this] life will magically come true. This is not a "God in a genie in the bottle" type of verse. Considering our treasure should be placed in the eternal things, God does not promise that all our "earthly hopes" will come true.

My sophomore is not promised a career in baseball making millions of dollars playing for a major league team simply because he "hopes" for that. His hope to be a Sooner and play for OU is not written in stone in the Heavenlies (that we're aware of yet anyway). His hope of catching for his high school varsity team is even on shaky ground from where he sits today. But that doesn't mean he's been instructed to stop hoping; instead, he is to be secured by his faith in a God who holds his unanswered questions (for now) and encourages him to press on and in while depositing peace and power to pursue the days, weeks and months ahead trusting in God's plan that is still unfolding.

Hope is a precarious thing. It can feel like we're walking a tight-rope at times without a visible net below us. And disappointment is like a tremor to our foundation of faith. It shakes us, but doesn't have to shift us.

Hope allows us [the choice] to leave our unanswered questions in God's hands. The choice is ours ... always ours.

Standing Firm: Job Speak

Now that the worst is over, we're pleased we can report that we've come out of this with conscience and faith intact, and can face the world--and even more importantly, face you with our heads held high. But it wasn't by any fancy footwork on our part. It was God who kept us focused on him, uncompromised. 2 Corinthians 1:12 [MSG]

As I opened up today's entry on YouVersion and read these first few sentences, I felt this strong, immediate impression that I was reading it as if these words are the newest addition to Anthony's and my testimony regarding our walk through the [un]employment journey of 2012. It was so clear to me that I found myself questioning whether or not it was my soulish desire to read it like this (through the filter of believing this job opportunity is God's plan), or if it was God. But just as quickly as that thought arrived, I was reminded of this question I read somewhere:

Why is it that we constantly question the validity (or source: me or God) when Holy Spirit speaks to us, but we so readily absorb the accusations and lies of the enemy without question?

I didn't consciously try to read this through the filter of wanting (worldly) confirmation of this plan (an official job offer). It's 6:30am--early for this brain of mine--and I've been up since 5:30am, mulling over this passage of scripture for almost an hour now. When I opened my laptop I hadn't been awake but 10 minutes and my conscience thoughts were no where near related to Anthony's job. I simply popped open the day's entry and began reading. The impression was immediate and concrete: these are your words and this is My promise and confirmation.

It is my choice whether or not to allow my flesh and my enemy to convince me otherwise, but God delights in my faith and trust, and it's in Him--not myself or my accuser--that I choose to place both.

I am risking what I declare I've "heard" from God (and my soul has a way of reminding me of this every time I talk about this job opportunity) by consistently standing on the belief that this is what God has been working out for Anthony, for us, since October 2012. I've "felt it" since the first conversation Anthony had with [him]--a conversation that quickly turned into a job interview (unbeknownst to Anthony until the end of it 1.5 hours later). There was this peace, this knowing of sorts, that wrapped that evening's re-telling of Anthony's conversation with him.

Did I think back then that it would take this long for it to come to pass? Heck NO! I was thinking ... "YES! Here it finally is!" Yet here we sit, in January 2013 (almost into February) and we're still waiting for a final word ... here on earth, at least. I believe it's already been spoken in the Heavenlies.

What's interesting to me is if you read this particular passage in any other translation it doesn't read like this at all. Maybe some would say "Aha! There's the contradiction." But that doesn't take away from what or how God chose to speak to me. On the contrary, I believe The Message translation was exactly what I was supposed to read first so that He could speak this point specifically to me--not coincidence ... not contradiction ... but purpose.

As I read the above words, my spirit was buzzing a bit, asking God if today is the day we'll know. I do not know that answer; it wasn't really addressed. But I do so love when my spirit starts to flit about like a June bug, all kinds of erratic in motion. Watch a June beetle in flight; there is nothing predictable about its pattern or course because it sees differently than I do. Hmmm... catch the nuance?

So this morning I do not shrink back from the words that I've been holding onto for months now: this job opportunity IS for us; it is what God has been working out; it is the breakthrough to something new for us--not because it comes with a paycheck but also because it comes with a paycheck. Provision is part of God's plan for us and cannot be removed because someone can choose to label that "fleshy hearted". There is nothing fleshy about believing in and for God's provision; it's faith to believe God for the provision of our needs (Matthew 6:26) and the abundance to bless us above and beyond anything we could ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:21)--and I choose to stand on faith.

A couple weeks ago, as I was coming out of a weeks-long battle with a severe cold and then the flu, I remember sitting on my couch asking God for a word to get me through January. We'd had zero word about this job opportunity for weeks; between the partnership of sickness and uncertainty, my soul was dry and in need. Immediately Jeremiah 29:11 came to mind. I actually scoffed a bit thinking "That's too easy. Everyone knows that verse, God." Then I was prompted to open up Facebook--yep, I go with the flow with God like that--and the very first entry in the news feed was this verse, posted by a friend. Okay, I hear ya, God!

When I told Anthony that day that I had asked God for a word about our situation, he had the same kind of reaction to the "overtness" of this verse, actually quoting it to me before I could tell him the specific verse God had given me--more in a questioning manner than anything declarative. Isn't it funny how we can so easily discredit the Word of God because a specific verse has somehow become cliche' and "overused" in our Christian culture? (That's a rabbit trail I won't go down in this blog, but that doesn't mean it's not worth taking.)

But God was purposing to settle my heart. Scripture is never cliche' to Him. He knows His plans and it was my choice to rest in that fact ... or not. And even today, when I can't point to an offer letter or employment start date, I can point to my God and His promise:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give hope and a future." 

I'm smiling now as I come to the end of this [note] because I realize just how much I needed to walk through this exercise of declaration, of faith, of trust and of knowing.

Visiting: The Grace Perspective

"It's amazing how much more mercy I give to people who struggle with sins I understand." [Michael Cheshire, Going to Hell with Ted Haggard, Christianity Today, December 2012}

Ouch! Did I really just read that? And why did I catch myself catching my breath?

"You guys can't forgive him and let him back into your good graces. Every time you talk to me about God, you explain that he will take me as I am. You say he forgives all my failures and will restore my hope, and as long as I stay outside the church, you say God wants to forgive me. But that guy failed while he was one of you, and most of you are still vicious to him." Then he uttered words that left me reeling: "You Christians eat your own. Always have. Always will."

These were just the first of many thoughts that reached right into my gut and yanked at the fibers of what I believe about grace and stirred the pot of how conditional it is in my life.

Going to Hell with Ted Haggard [What I Learned about Grace and Redemption Through my Friendship with a Christian Pariah] is one of the most thought-provoking pieces I've read in quite a while. Not that I haven't read my share, but this man, Michael Cheshire, just dared to put us face-to-face with the ugly side of grace (catch my sarcasm here because grace was never intended to be ugly).

Truth be told, I would bet my next paycheck (if I earned one) that most people can relate to one side of this story or the other: the Christian sinner cast aside for daring to sin or, if we're throwing all caution to the wind for the sake of utter transparency, the person who has done the casting. Shoot, we've probably all sailed in both boats at one time or another. I know I have.

I think the reason this article touched such a tender spot in me is because I remember the unveiling of this "scandal", the media coverage it received and the venom it produced. Sadly, once I was over my shock of learning that a pastor, of all people, (more sarcasm) could fall from grace so harshly, I remember thinking along the lines of this thought pointed out in the article:

"Most Christians would say God can forgive him, but almost universally people agree that God will never use him again."

I shudder now when I realize that type of judgment resided in my heart just over six years ago, but I smile in thankfulness when I recognize that God has brought me a long way on the journey of learning grace in my life, although I still have a ways to go. Who am I to label someone "unusable"? In other words, "Who died and made me God?"

Now I read stories like this one and nod my head in agreement with the author's next line:

"'Why can't God still use Ted?" After all, I reasoned, Jesus restored Peter after he denied Christ."

But unless I trail off my intended path for this particular blog, I will let the "usable or unusable" topic sit for the time being. (For the record, I would stand in the "usable" line if asked to pick a side.) No, what struck me the most about these particular phrases is two-fold: 1) the grace partnership with restoration and, more importantly, 2) the basic necessity for grace itself.

I have a lot of thoughts spinning around my head, and I could easily digress here, but I've been really challenged by the whole topic of grace as I give it and live it. What's hit me is the notion that I have no problem reading this article and wholeheartedly agreeing that Ted Haggard deserves grace and restoration, not because he's earned it but precisely because he doesn't have to earn it, should not be made to earn it.

And yet...

In familiar fashion to the opening quote of this blog, I can say, "It's amazing how much more grace I give to those whose lives I view from afar, but I struggle with it when you own a piece of my heart."

Why do I hand out grace on a silver platter to the man down the street, or the person on Facebook I barely know, yet my grace has its limits and its conditions when it's tested by the same person(s) time and again? Is it still grace if it has limits, which in reality makes it conditional? If grace is unmerited then who am I to say, "Today you are worthy, tomorrow you are not. The first few times I'll cover you in grace, after that, dude you're on your own."

I mean, really ... who am I?

I either believe in the totality of grace or I don't, right? I either believe it's truly unmerited, in all circumstances for all people, or I don't, right?

But what if I don't? Why don't I?

Like I touched on in my Visiting blogs from last week (Grief and Reality), I am in a place of examining everything, and grace is that place today. I don't have the answers yet, but I am--at the least--willing to ask the questions.

Every journey starts somewhere.

The Perfect Distraction

When I look at my blog and see that it's been almost six months since I last posted anything new, my brain immediately begins flipping through my mind files to determine which event is most relevant to write about, and my heart feels the burden of realizing I've allowed a lot of life to go unrecorded and, possibly, unprocessed.

It's not that I haven't sat here -- at my laptop with the thought to write -- in six months; it's that I haven't sat here with a true desire to forever keep the words rattling around my head and heart. But today ... today I read a portion of scripture posted on a friend's Facebook wall and knew that I would have to ignore that urge to write in order to not write. Yes, I've done this enough times to know that's Holy Spirit nudging me, because when I write, He often speaks.

So, here I go!

"Don’t worry about the wicked or envy those who do wrong. For like grass, they soon fade away. Like spring flowers, they soon wither. Trust in the Lord and do good. Then you will live safely in the land and prosper. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires. Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you. He will make your innocence radiate like the dawn, and the justice of your cause will shine like the noonday sun. Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. Don’t worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes. Stop being angry! Turn from your rage! Do not lose your temper—it only leads to harm. For the wicked will be destroyed, but those who trust in the Lord will possess the land." [Psalm 37:1-9]

These words immediately pulled [her] to the surface of my thoughts and the deep pit of deception that was both created and taught. This passage poked at some of the questions that have been roaming around in my spirit for a couple weeks now and brought about an (almost) immediate release of the anger and confusion that's been resident in my soul just as long. That's the power of the Word of God.

After "the night of discovery and disconnection" a few weeks ago, I have been wandering like a nomad in a desert of anger, regret, questions and blame. I've asked more questions than I have answers to, but, on the flip side, some important puzzle pieces were uncovered and a fractured picture is a bit more whole. Things that haven't made sense for years are now understandable, not justifiable, but understandable.

"Don't worry about evil people who prosper or fret about their wicked schemes." [vs. 7]

A simple statement. A straightforward instruction. My vagabond heart was instantly settled. 

The word scheming has rolled off my tongue numerous times lately when joined with her name, and I've struggled to wrap my mind around her purposeful plotting of a desired outcome that I couldn't help but label as "corrupt". But God's simple instruction of "don't worry" dropped this peace into my spirit that has escaped me since that night. I've been asking a lot "why's?", but in that moment I knew that He was asking me that same question. 

"Why is it so important to you to have the actions and intentions of another person with whom you have little to no relationship explained?"

Hmmm. His question stopped me in my tracks and got me thinking. Asking "why did she ...?" or even "how could she ...?" has been this impenetrable obstacle in my mind. I know one answer is "hurt people hurt people"--I've heard it multiple times and even used it myself in conversation with others--but that wasn't good enough for me, probably because it was now me and not someone else. I thought I needed to reconcile the how and why in order to move forward, but God was challenging me, kind of like a Freedom Pastor. ;) 

"So, how's that working for you?" 

The emotional realty I've surrendered to figuring her out--with no productive results--is pointless, and I see that now. Even if I were to somehow have the why and how revealed, I'm not sure they would bring the peace I've longed for; they would probably just bring more questions.

So I'm laying this part of this journey down. I recognize the futility of my obsession to identify with or influence someone with whom I have zero relational equity, and by choice of my will, I am letting it go ... letting her go ... letting this battle go. Five-and-a-half years later I realize I may have been duped all along anyway. She was never my battlefield, just my enemy's perfect distraction.

*this is just one train of thought regarding this scripture passage, and there are more remaining, but I needed to focus this blog on this one point for sake of clarity and length.

Beauty Redefined

Source: sundayinbed.tumblr.com via Babs on Pinterest

"I am weathered but still elegant ..." Song of Solomon 1:5 {TheMessage}

Shut Up and Pray

HolySpirit has been whispering a theme to me for the past few weeks. His words came nicely the first time, "Talk less. Pray more." WisdomWords spoken through a Titus2 leader that hovered over my heart and seemed tangible enough for me to chew on. Simple statements speak volumes to me, and God knows me best.

I was frustrated. Tired. Worn out. Life was not being fair and I wanted people to know it. I didn't desire to spill all the beans, just enough to make me feel better.

When I didn't exactly heed those words in full embrace, HolySpirit was kind enough to deliver them again with a bit more punch, "SHUT UP and PRAY!" And sometimes simple statements have to be backed up with strength [because] God knows me best.

Do I think my God to be rude and lacking in love to say 'shut up' to me? Absolutely not. Quite the contrary, I know Him well enough by now to understand His intent. He loves me too much to [not] shout a declarative statement of safety. Wouldn't I shout at my child about to run into a street, all in the name of protection? Absolutely.

My God is protecting me while at the same time teaching me. That is what a [good] parent does.

Evening, morning and at noon will I utter my complaint and moan and sigh and He will hear my voice. ~ Psalm 55:17

Home [Again]

It's been just over a week since life as we know it was packed into boxes, loaded into the back of an orange and white truck and transported from one city to another. Our family unit has known three moves in just as many years; and Teighlor, Alec and I have lived in ten different cities within two states over the past sixteen years. I'm beginning to believe that we may be drawing closer, mile by mile, to earning a "gypsy" notch on our life belts.

As a kid growing up, the majority of my years were spent in a two-story home on Olive Street in a county named for the brightly colored and most beloved breakfast juice fruit. I vaguely remember the sight and scent of orange groves before homes allowing for the influx of families were built on top of the dirt once formerly inhabited by trees.

Year after year, my birthday photos show me blowing out candles in front of the sliding glass door that led to the yard that was home to countless barbecues and endless games of tag, capture the flag and baseball played with wiffle balls and plastic bats.

Christmases were celebrated with a sentimentally decorated tree that moved from one corner to another, depending on the arrangement of furniture, but always filled the same living room lit by a log in the fireplace that was home to our stockings every December.

Meals were prepared in the kitchen that saw changing appliances, flooring and cabinet doors, but always held the familiar window next to the sink that framed the faces of friends and family as they showed up on the front doorstep.

Bedrooms held both children and parents; and even were home to almost every grandchild at one time or another.

Time passed. Days became weeks, became months, became years. Children became adults. And one by one we all stretched our wings and ventured out into the world. Each of us said "I Do" and God filled our arms with the next generation.

As life would have it, one by one we all were hit with situational curveballs and found a place of healing within the comfort of those same walls, made possible by the two home-filled-hearts we called Mom and Dad and the younger generation called "grand".

My grown-up dreams held visions of the same kinds of memories. Where wall colors changed but the walls themselves did not. Where old carpeting was replaced by new cherry laminate flooring covered by area rugs where feet made cold by winter months could find solace. Where hot pink or camouflage teenage comforters replaced Winnie-the-Pooh baby blankets once nuzzled by sleeping toddlers. Where nail polish and lip gloss replaced Barbie dream homes, and slumber parties of giggling girls replaced tea parties served at a small table surrounded by stuffed animals. Where a driveway once littered with hot wheels propelled by chubby, little boy fingers was now home to the clamoring feet of sweaty boys playing game after game of basketball on long, summer nights.

Home was defined by the square footage within the walls topped with the roof that never changed. And I was determined to provide my family with those same types of memories to tuck into their hearts and pass onto their children.

And then...

From one move to another, one year after another, God challenged my grown-up dream and taught me one of my most cherished and valuable life lessons:

Home is not about the walls that make up the rooms that hold up the roof that was supposed to never change. Home is about the love that fills the hearts that are held by the people that fill those rooms.

And memories? They may be birthed in a particular city but they are not held captive by a street address. They will always remain in the home of our hearts.

Seeing a Sliver

"From where we stand, we can’t see whether it’s something good or bad. All we can see is that God’s sovereign and He is always good, working all things for good. ... Our heart optics are not omniscient."

Those are words taken from Ann Voskamp's today blog. Another really good read! But I also had to pull from it the wisdom in the story she shared of the White Horse:

How a white stallion had rode into the paddocks of an old man and all the villagers had congratulated him on such good fortune. And the old man had only offered this: “Is it a curse or a blessing? All we can see is a sliver. Who can see what will come next?”
When the white horse ran off, the townsfolk were convinced the white stallion had been a curse. The old man lived surrendered and satisfied in the will of God alone:  “I cannot see as He sees.”
And when the horse returned with a dozen more horses, the townsfolk declared it a blessing, yet the old man said only, “It is as He wills and I give thanks for His will.”Then the man’s only son broke his leg when thrown from the white stallion. The town folk all bemoaned the bad fortune of that white stallion. And the old man had only offered, “We’ll see. We’ll see. It is as He wills and I give thanks for His will.”
When a draft for a war took all the young men off to battle but the son with the broken leg, the villagers all proclaimed the good fortune of that white horse. And the old man said but this, “We see only a sliver of the sum. We cannot see how the bad might be good. God is sovereign and He is good and He sees and work all things together for good.”

This story made me recall all the times I've wavered like these villagers. From good to bad, from blessing to a curse, all because I could only see a sliver.

This tied in with another blog I read today from Nancy Smith on Destiny in Bloom. Below is my comment that sums it up:

"There’s a magic word in Ted’s world: uncle. As in, Uncle David. Uncle David gets Ted, understands him pretty well. At that moment, he understood something I couldn’t see. He walked over, quite nonchalantly, and told me to go ahead and get on the ride and he would take care of the boy." 
First impression: Uncle David was Jesus to your Ted in this moment. He "understood Ted and saw something you couldn't see". How awesome to see Jesus in that exchange! And high-five to Uncle David for being discerning and seizing the moment in obedience! 
"Yes, I learned something from my eight year old son. I learned that I get to choose how I respond to the curves life throws at me." 
This hit my heart today. Yesterday was a day full of 'response choices' and I did not make all of them wisely. It's a reminder that I'm still learning how to hit that curve-ball ... and thankful for grace in the process of learning. 
"As a reasonable adult, I know why Ted shouldn’t ride a roller coaster when he’s not tall enough: safety. ... That didn’t stop the tears, though. He was disappointed." 
I know your point didn't stop where I chose to end your quote. I just wanted to pause on the reality and truth of those words combined. You understood the reason your son couldn't ride, but that didn't cover his disappointment. Just like Jesus understands the "why" behind our closed doors, and yet we still cry tears of disappointment in veiled understanding. 
Until HE uncovers... 
"Something better was around the corner, just out of reach. But at the right time, through the perfect process, we walked into the place we were meant to be." 
Oh that we would have eyes to see what's just around our corners when our hearts are disappointed at what we didn't get today ... that thing we wanted so badly, when in truth, it wasn't the BEST we believed it to be. I want the ears of my heart to be so sensitive to the whispers of Jesus saying, "It's okay. I have something better waiting to give you. Something that's better than what you came in for. Something you can take home with you." 

My takeaways: 
There is wisdom contained in a sliver, but it's not the whole truth. 
[AND] 
Disappointment is not truth. For around the next corner waits our BEST. 
[AND] 
Don't be so quick to judge what's lost today as actually lost. It may not have been ours to begin with.