Sunday, November 18, 2018

He gets it from his Father.

At our house we have had an ongoing game that started when we first became parents 14 years ago...  when our kids do something dumb or crazy or even something amazing we say, "Well, he/she gets that from.. mom/dad."  Sometimes, it's a dig because they are being totally annoying, sometimes it's an observation of them reflecting our own "greatness" and sometimes it's one of us seeing the ugly reality of who we really are, through one of our kids.

Today, I posted a brag post on FB about my almost 13 year old son and the character that he has displayed through a dismal football season.  I hesitated posting, but in the end I decided to give honor where honor is due, because he inspires me to be a better person.

It's real easy for people to look at that post and say something along the lines that "we must be doing something right" or something similar, so I wanted to write this post to clear that up.

HE GETS IT FROM HIS FATHER.

Every single time that my kids have had to struggle through hard situations I wanted to save them from the pain.  I have raged at God when I had to sit and watch my kids go through things that I couldn't fix.  I have asked Him to do it another way.  I've asked him to turn down the fire, afraid that it would destroy their tender hearts.  I can't tell you how many times I have asked, "WHY".

"Lord, why does it have to be this way?  Why are you letting them go through these hard things, don't you see how tender they are?  This is too hard."  This is what my prayers have looked like.

I've cried with them and I've cried for them.  I've questioned the plans of God for a long time.

Last night, I sat in the bleachers for the 16th time in two long years and watched him lose AGAIN.  13 losses.  Some of the losses were so bad that I cried in the car after ward in discouragement and disappointment... not because they lost, but because he had given it all he had.  Never once did I see him give up.  Never once did he look at the scoreboard and quit. These two losing seasons have changed my son.  He's a different person than the one who joined this team 2 years ago and I am humbled.

I am humbled because I know he didn't get that from me.  He gets that from His Heavenly Father.  All the things I begged Jesus to rescue my kids from were the very things that are making them the people they are.

You know what they get from me?  A sinful nature.  Selfishness, pride, impatience, anger issues, control issues and so much more.  If he was like me he would give up when things were hard.  He would cry and complain and pout.  He would quit and say it's not worth it.  If he was like me he would throw his hands up and say forget it...

But THANK GOD...  he is NOT like me.  He's better than me, because Jesus KNOWS better than I do.  He knows exactly what my kids need.  He knows the plans that He has for their lives and He is preparing them for those plans.  Plans that include determination and endurance, plans that take faith and hope, plans that won't be easy.  Plans to bring GLORY to GOD.

I could NEVER claim that any of the good things about them come from me.  I know what kind of parent I have been.  I know what kind of person I am.  I know the mistakes I've made and I know the basket case I can be sometimes.  I KNOW, that while I've been all over the place trying to figure myself out...  God has been in the background working through hard situations to produce character in their lives.

That's why I decided to go ahead and post that brag post on FB today, because really it's a praise about a God.  It's a praise to God that He takes a mess and makes a message.  He's the God who allows hard things in our lives, because He loves us and He wants to produce fruit that will bring glory to Him.   He wants to refine us in the fire and He knows just exactly what to use and how much pressure to apply to bring forth a vessel that He can use.

So, let me get out of the way and allow My Heavenly Father to do what only He can do because if there is anything good about my son...  he gets it from His Father.

I'm not sure where you find yourself tonight...  maybe you're a parent that's struggling with a wayward child, who has gotten into trouble...  It's equally as tempting to beat yourself up and say it's all your fault.  It's not.   It's easy to get bogged down in discouragement and disappointment...  but, friend lift up your head...  you don't need to carry that load.  I urge to leave that child in the Father's hand and be encouraged that's the best place for them.  Remember, "God is ABLE to do EXCEEDINGLY ABUNDANTLY above all that we ask or think according to the power that works within us." Eph. 3:20

Maybe you're in a situation with your child that is breaking y your heart for them, as they walk through a painful season.  Friend, lift up your head.   Be encouraged that God works ALL things out for the good of those who love Him and who are called according to HIS purpose.  Rest in knowing that God knows just how much fire they can handle.

Where ever you find your self tonight...  Trust God, He is faithful.









Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Cleaning Up My Mess

It's the sound that my nightmares are made of.  The sound that every mother cringes and bites down a scream when they hear it.  It's worse than the sound than the sound my eight year old makes when he's hurt, because I know that will just take a kiss and cuddle to make it right.  It's the kind of sound that starts out my day with the worst sort of dread.

Just stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my hair and checking out the new wrinkles and black circles under my eyes... I already feel tired when I think about what's coming today.  I send up a quick prayer asking God for patience, maybe a little kindness and please help me not to yell at my kids.  That's when I hear the sound that destroys any sense of calm...  I know what I just heard, it's unmistakable, but while I quickly throw on my yoga pants and faded t-shirt, I lie to myself and say, "surely it's not, because someone would run in here and tell me what happened."

Swinging the bedroom door open, I step into an eerie silence.  No running and screaming that normally fills the walls of my home, just quietness.  Hope soars for one fleeting second and then I see him, standing in the kitchen, with the fridge door standing wide open.  He's stuck in place, with a look of dread plastered on his face.  Surrounded by a million pieces of glass, he has no where to go in his bare feet.  Shattered glass covers the floor from one end of the kitchen to the other.  I have no idea what he broke, but it must have been big.

Wanting him to recognize WHY this ALWAYS happens to him, I ask him how the glass broke into a million tiny pieces?  My mind is screaming what, when, how, WHYYYYYYYY?  Why do you do this all the time.  My other kids jump on the opportunity to share the story of how the shattered glass has come about.  It's at this moment that my thinly veiled rage reaches the breaking point.  Why are they so gleeful when they are telling me what he did wrong?  As if they never do this kind of thing.  Why are they smirking?  Why would they even open their mouths to share his mistake, when they have done the same thing so many times before.  But, I know what it is...  they're just glad it's not them this time.

The  thing is, as much as I don't like  the broken glass on the floor, I HATE the way the other three boys are rejoicing in the mishap of their brother.  I HATE the way they take this chance to fill  me in on what he did wrong.  I HATE the way they LOVE to see someone else in the hot seat.

Walking back in my room, taking a few deep breaths to calm down, I put my contacts in so I can see the mess, which gives me a chance to not do too much damage with my words.  It really doesn't matter why it happened or if he understand why he did this again.  All that matters is he knows it's not the end of the world and mom will fix this.

When I come back out of my room there is no one in sight.  They have all fled to safety.  Somehow, he has extracted himself from the precarious situation.  The fridge is still wide open, glass still covers the floor.  He and I both know that only I can clean up this mess he's made.  There is no way he could get all the glass.  If it was a little spill, I would make him clean it up himself, but this is THE BIG ONE.  It's in every corner, tiny little slivers are stuck in the grout, glass had somehow traveled all the way to the living room.   Most of it is under the kitchen table and chairs.  I will have to move everything out of the way to get it all.  There are just some messes that a mom has to take care of.

While I'm sweeping up the glass, I see myself, stuck in the middle of a big mess of my own making.  Surrounding by a sea of broken pieces, standing barefoot, with no way to escape.  A mess that's so big I know I will never be able to do this on my own.  In fact, I see a few messes that I'm made.  Messes that I just can't clean up.  Some of them are relational...  I've hurt people and let them down.  Some are physical that are the result of bad choices, some are financial.  I see myself surrounded by the consequences of my choices and I feel stuck and overwhelmed.

While I'm cleaning up my son's mess I see clearly the truth of my situation...  I've made a mess I can't clean up.  On my own I'm stuck in it, somehow lacking what it takes to get the job done. My Father (who is nothing like me) gently asks me what happened.  I struggle through my explanation, knowing He sees the truth...  It happened because I was in a hurry.  I was impatient to get what I wanted.  I didn't take the time I needed to carefully move a few things out of the way.  I just snatched at the thing I wanted and in the process I knocked over something and broke it into a million little pieces.

He doesn't have to say anything.  I know it's my fault and to make things worse, we both know that I've done this before.  We both know that I should have learned by now what causes this to happen again and again.  With my head hung in shame for doing this again, I don't see Him take the step towards me.  I'm not sure what to expect this time. Will He leave me here in this mess?  Or will He help me again?  With broom in hand, He tells me to go on so He can sweep up the mess.  Relief washes over me, knowing that the next time I come down to the kitchen it will be as good as new.  There will be no evidence of THE BIG ONE, everything will be made right.  Only the memory will be left.

The memory of me standing in the kitchen, watching with dread as the glass hit the floor, the sound of  millions of tiny pieces bouncing in a hundred different directions.  The memory of my Father stepping in to fix what I have broken.  The memory of the grace that He has shown me time after time.

Hopefully, we will won't do this again, but both of us (my son and I) know it will most likely happen again.  We have a way of getting ourselves in messy situations.  Hopefully, we will learn NOT to do this or that and then again, probably not.  One thing we will learn for sure is sometimes we make messes too big to clean up and while we run off and try to forget about what just happened, there's someone bigger, stronger and smarter than us sweeping up the kitchen, making sure every trace is gone.

"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your loving kindness; According to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sins."  Words of David, after his sin with Bathsheba.

David's Psalm of repentance is filled with the most beautiful words ever recorded.  David's confidence before God, in spite of his terrible sin, and his assurance that in the presence of God there is forgiveness, grace and mercy, have comforted my soul a 1000 times since the day I started following Jesus.  Like David I have sinned greatly against the Lord.  I have made messes that looked hopeless, BUT through the pages of scripture I see that His mercy is new every day.  I see that nothing can separate me from the love of God.  I see that God so loved that world that He sent His only Son to clean up the messes that we have all made of our lives.  I see that the wages of my sin was death and eternal separation from God, but that He offered me another way.  I see LOVE that covers all my sin.

Friend, I don't what mess you find yourself mired in today, but I know a God, who says:

"IF my people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and heal their land." 2 Chronicles 7:14

and...  "Come to me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

and... "Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, CASTING all your cares on Him, for He cares for you."  I Peter 5:6-7

So, hand the broom over and step out of the way.  Recognize it's too big for you to fix.  Humbly take your broken heart to God, hand him all the pieces and trust Him to make all things new.  Knowing this...  ALL things work together for the good of those who love God and who are called according to His purpose...

I hate that I do this again and again, but His love for me is never more evident than when He's cleaning up my mess.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Passing the Test

Sitting at the messy kitchen table, covered in books, pencils, and lunch plates with half-eaten turkey sandwiches, sending up a silent prayer that I will have the patience to handle the next few minutes.  It's the worst part of my day...  math time.  Today, is the worst of all days though.  It's test time.  I have to hand it to them this time, there are no tears yet, just snippy comments and eye rolls.  The test is 4 pages long and contains everything we have been learning for the last few months.  Today is the day to see what they really know.

Oh, the things I have seen on test day.  One of my children would kill me, if I told you about the temper tantrums that have been thrown over math.  The tears, the frustration, the feeling of defeat that they would NEVER get this was the biggest land mine that we have had to learn how to avoid.

I have to be honest and say that half of the problem is that I am NOT a math teacher.  I struggled with math in school and I would go back and kick my stupid teenage self and tell her to pay attention, because the question "when are you ever gonna use this" has now been answered.  I'm gonna use it every day of my life, because now I have to teach 5 kids how to do it.

I've been summoned over to the table and invited to sit in between my two oldest kids and "help" them with a problem or 10.  They made it through the first few pages without too much struggle, but those two pages were filled with equations they are now pretty comfortable with.  The last 2 pages are filled with word problems, that have 3 or 4 parts to solve and even though we've been working on it for a week or so, it's still hasn't stuck.

The test is where I find out what they really know and what each one is having a little trouble with, sometimes it's where I realize they don't know it at all and it's time to go back and practice that a little more.  The important thing isn't that they could do the work each day as we practiced it... the important thing is that they know it enough to be tested.

CAN YOU PASS THE TEST?

Listening to my kids grumble about how "math is stupid" and "why do we even have to do this" and "who cares, we won't ever use this in real life" and "Mom, it's TOO HARD", I think about how I've acted lately when I've been tested.  I've been doing a lot of eye-rolling, foot-stomping and crying in frustration because, "WHY, do I have to go through this?",  "WHY do I even need to know this?  Haven't I do enough practice already?"

Listening to my kids gripe and complain and cry about math has given me the chance to see myself from my Father's perspective.  Having already completed my school experience I know what's coming in the next few years.  I know that what they are doing right now is a stepping stone that only leads to another stepping stone and one day they will be working math equations that look more like Spanish than math. They will think back to this stuff and remember how easy it was.  I know they have to get this today or they will be clueless in the future.  I know that what they are doing in math today is nothing compared to what they are going to be doing in the years to come.  I also know that we can NOT move on until they get it enough to pass the test.

I know there's a big difference between knowing something, being able to do it at in any time or any circumstance and just kinda sorta thinking you might know it.  So, being the faithful Father that He is, God will patiently sit with me and help me learn this lesson until I get it.  Then He will test me to see if I really get it.  Then He will sit down with me and go over what I got right and what I missed.  Later, He will probably test me again to see if I really get it.  It might take me a while, but He doesn't mind that.  I might cry and complain and say I can't do it, but He knows better.  I might stomp and have a temper tantrum, but He's too faithful to let me stay in that place for long.

One day last week when I was having a really crappy day and getting pretty frustrated with the circumstances in my life, angry with God for holding out on an answer to prayers that I felt like I had been praying for too long...  a friend text asking how I was doing.  I truthfully answered her question with a mile long text, unloading on her all my frustrations and fears.  I told her how I had just been thinking about just taking care of this situation on my own and forget waiting around on God.  I'm sure she rolled her eyes on the other end of the line, thinking about all the things we have been learning about faith in Bible study, and how easily I would throw my hands up in surrender.  Being a good friend she reminded that sometimes God's answers take a while, but He is faithful to answer them.

Later, that night, after waking from a dream I had a few words from a verse that I vaguely remembered whispering through my mind...  something about faith being testing and being more valuable than gold.  Reaching for my phone, of course I googled the few words "faith more valuable" and up popped I Peter 1:-7, tapping on the first link that came up, I read the verses and cried.

"You rejoice in this, even though for a short time, if necessary, you suffer grief in various trials, SO THAT THE PROVEN CHARACTER OF YOUR FAITH- MORE VALUABLE THAN GOLD, which though perishable, is REFINED BY FIRE- May result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." I Peter 1:6-7

To be honest...  I don't want my faith tested.  I don't want to be refined by fire.  I don't want to suffer (in any regard).  I want my life to be exactly the way I want it to be.  I want money in the bank, kids that listen, days that are peaceful, friends that make me laugh and can hang out on a regular basis, I want a marriage that takes no work, I want comfort and ease, I want plenty and popularity, I want people to love me and never be mad at me.  I want my life to be completely stress free.  I have realized that one thing I really don't like more than all others is having to trust an invisible God with my life.  Faith is so completely out of my character.  I want CONTROL.  I want to fix.  I want answers and I want them to come easily.  I don't want to have to learn news things.   I don't want to keep working on a problem til I get it.

It's taking  a really long time for me to understand that control is an illusion. There is just too much I don't know for me to be the god and queen of my own life.   Even though I fight Him tooth and nail and kick and scream and stomp to my room, yelling that I will never be able to do this...  He is faithful.  He won't let me have my own way... because it's no good for me.

So, He will sit with me and patiently walk me through the problem again.  He will work with me day after day, until one day I have an "ah ha" moment.  He will help me and encourage me and tell me why it's important and he will remind me of how far I've come.  He will hold me when I cry. He will refute the lie that I can't do it.  One day I will know with absolute certainty how proud He is of me for staying at it, even when I wanted to quit, because to Him my faith is more valuable than gold.

Through the years I will be tested on this thing again...  and there will be harder things down the road.  There will be new lessons to learn and their will be many more tests, of this I am sure... because the proof that I really know it will only show when I am able to pass the test.

"Now FAITH is the REALITY of what is hoped for, THE PROOF of what is not see."  Hebrews 11:1

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

What I See

This is his first season.  He's 8, and most of the kids on his team have been playing for a while.  That's enough to make you feel insecure, but that's not really the problem. I watch him hold back and second guess every move.  I watch him let other people take the lead, because he's not sure of himself.  I can see his potential.  He's fast, real fast, and he will one day be a really good soccer player or anything else he wants to be, but for now he's holding back.  I know what he is capable of and I know why he's so scared.  

He's a younger brother of two pretty amazing athletes (and I can say that because I have no athletic skill at all).  I also know this because other people say it all the time.  We hear it from Coaches and from other parents.  It comes so naturally to them.  They make it look so easy and since the day that he figured this out he has been comparing himself to them.  

It's not easy for him.  He has to work harder and he has to try harder.  He had to practice and drop a 100 balls before he could catch one, but he works at it with a determination that makes me ashamed of how easy I give up.  Nothing has ever been easy for him and he's an overcomer.  

The voice in his head tells him he will never measure up.  The voice in his head says he isn't as good as his football star brother or as good as his brother that always scores goals.  His voice constantly tells him, he doesn't have what it takes...  so I have had to be that other voice in his head.  

I want to be that voice that says, "Let me tell you what I see."  I see that you work hard and never give up.  I see that your brothers have been a valuable asset in your life, they have made you better.  I see that you are fast, I see that you have a great kick, I see that when you were in the game the ball stayed at the other end of the field.  I see that you are holding back and that you have so much more to give.  I see that you are scared, but you don't have any reason to be...  You are better than you think you are.  

I also say "I heard your Coach say repeatedly, "Let Andrew kick the ball."  I saw him tell you a few times that he didn't want you throwing in, he wanted the ball thrown to you, because he believes in you.  Your dad and I see so much in you that you are holding back and only you can release it".  

I also say "You have to believe what I say and stop listening to the voice in your head.  You can do this, but you have to push through the fear.  You will never know what you are capable of, if you keep listening to the lie that you aren't good enough".

One of the hardest things a parent can watch is a child paralyzed and held back by fear, doubt and insecurity.  Sitting on the side lines waiting with baited breath for them to realize just what they are capable of, is excruciating.  
 
But, I am Andrew.  I am scared.  I am in the game, but I'm holding back.  I kind of know there's more in there, but I'm still idling.  I'm still listening to that voice in my head that says, "Who do you think you are?"  

I'm looking around and thinking they've been playing longer than me, I will just let them do it.  They are better at this whole thing than I am, so Coach it's ok to take me out of the game.  I'm ok on the sidelines.  I'm just gonna run around the field and look busy, but there are those moments when I get my eye on that ball and no one is gonna take it away from me.  There are those moments when I kick that ball so hard I surprise myself.  There are times when I look over on the sidelines and it's looks like my mom's face is going to split in half from pride.  There are those times when somewhere inside I know there is greatness that the world has yet to see...  

After the game is over I remind that kid again of what I see...  I see greatness and I'm going to tell him every day until he believes it too.  I'm going to be that voice of truth that pushes him past the fear and to reach his full potential.  

I'm thankful for the people in my life that do that for me.  I'm thankful for the people that say "Let me tell you what I see."  I'm thankful for people who remind me not to compare myself to other people, who tell me to run my fastest, play my hardest, give my all and forget about those older brothers.

I'm thankful for the sweetest voice of all... the One who said, "I chose you... you are mine."  His love is beyond my understanding.  He knows everything about me.  He knows my fears, insecurities and doubts and I know it pains Him to know that I listen to the voice in my head instead of His.  I know that He watches me hold back, out of fear and I know He waits patiently for me to finally start believing that "In Christ I can do all things."  

I can see in my 8 year old that fear is a liar.  Fear is paralyzing.  Fear is scary and big and loud, but everything fear says is a lie.  It's easy to see that in him.  It's easy to see fear telling him that he's not good enough and it's just as easy for me to see how good he can be.  

How do we shut up the fear?  The Word...  Just as Jesus refuted the enemy in the wilderness with the Word, we must believe the Word of Truth.

"There is no fear in love; INSTEAD, perfect LOVE drives out fear..."  I John 4:18

The love of our perfect Father in heaven, through the love displayed for us by Christ Jesus on the cross is that perfect love that casts out our fear.  

This morning when I was reminding my son of this truth, I asked him how he could know that he was valuable...  he said because Jesus would never have given his life for trash.  OH, SON you are so much farther along than me already.  

Friend, are you holding back?  Are you paralyzed by fear?  Are you letting the voice in your head convince you that you are not enough?  Fear is a liar...  If Jesus has put you on the field play your heart out...  the world is waiting for YOU!





Thursday, October 4, 2018

Game of Thrones

An epic battle rages in the early morning hours and extends well after the sun has gone down...  Who will win the bid for the throne, who will lead this tiny kingdom, who is really in control?  I like to think that I am the one, who is running this show, but my 10yr old middle son gives me a run for my money ALL. DAY. EVERYDAY.  As if we were two ancient armies, facing off on either side of a wide valley, we wage war all day, lay down in camp at night, and start up again in the morning.  The clashing of two titans, with iron wills, ever ready to defend our ground.

Our most recent battle started innocently enough, cruising down the highway last night, jamming to a good song on the radio, when out of nowhere the station changed (side note: who in the name of goodness thought it would be a great idea to put radio controls in the backseat, I hate you.).  I don't know when it happened that a mini human started thinking that he could just control the car radio, but my mini-me thinks by divine right he can change the station anytime he wants to.  NOT COOL.

Our biggest battles happen during school hours each day.  To graduate at 5th grade or not to, is the question.  No, son...  you can not quit in 5th grade and still go to college.  No, son you have not reached the zenith of your education.  You must press on with the thing we call school.   "Sit down and do your work" is my constant battle cry.  No you can't watch TV, play football, and eat all day, you must do school.  ALL. DAY. EVERYDAY.

Speaking of TV, that's a whopper.  Oh, 3 games of NFL Sunday were not enough for you?  Oh, I'm sorry, yes let me see if I can muster up some sympathy for your pour mistreated soul.

There is no area that is off limits for the two of us.  We fight about breakfast, junk food, music, TV, school, we fight about swimming in December, we fight about everything, and I guess if I was a better monarch, then we wouldn't fight at all, but people I'm tired.

To be honest, we are too much alike.  Out of all my children, he is the one who is most like me.  We love everything that we shouldn't, the only difference is that I understand a thing or two about consequences...  Like if you eat too many brownies you will get sick.  If you quit school in 5th grade you won't get a good job, and then you will be living with me for the rest of your life (and I can't handle that), so you are getting an education.  I know stuff he doesn't know...   so, like it or not young son you will submit to my will.

Another epic battle rages in another dimension every day as well...  My will or Thine.  My kingdom vs. His Kingdom.  He being King Jesus, the rightful heir to the throne, the one who paid the price to ascend and be seated.  Daily I pray "Your Kingdom come" and then fight frantically to recover the throne.  The battle rages for control, leaving me with self-inflicted wounds, as our wills collide.

There is no contest...  He is the undisputed King.  I know it's a losing battle, but I fight anyway.  When He says, "Love your enemies", I balk and say, "I can't".   When He says, "Value others above yourself", I say, "Impossible."  When He says, "You must die to yourself and pick up your cross.",  I say, "It's too heavy, that's too much."  When He says, "Be still (stop fighting) and know (that I am God)", I say, "I can't let go."

The power struggle rages on.  I want to be Queen of my own life.  I want to be captain of my own destiny.  I struggle to surrender control of my life, because what if I don't like what Jesus does with it.  But, whether or not I accept it in the moment, Jesus is King.  He will have His way.  There is really no power struggle, it's all in my head.  He will have His way in my life and unlike the war between my child and I, there is no doubt who is in control.

He is King.  His will for me is better than my will for me.  Just like my child, my will is usually selfish.  I have to constantly fight the battle of being completely self-centered... as if I were the Sun with all the planets rotating around me.  I, like most earthly kings, believe that everything and everyone is here to make me happy.

As a parent, I have one main goal in life, it's NOT my kids happiness, because I recognize that what makes them happy, usually is NOT good for them.   My main goal as a parent is to prepare and equip my children to grow up and be mature, responsible adults, people that are prepared for their future and that requires a lot of time fighting for what is best for them.

As King, Jesus, has ONE goal for His people...  to prepare us for the future of being with Him.  My happiness is NOT His priority.   His ways are not my ways, His thoughts are not my thoughts.  His ways are higher than ours.  It's up to me to surrender to His will for my life, recognizing that He knows more than I do and His ways are better.  It's up to me to bow my knee to the real King and say with my whole being, "Not my will, but Thine."

It's up to me to trust God to know what is best for me.  It's up to me to lay my weapons down, raise my white flag and let Him lead.  I know what ever He does is good.  He has proven that to me at the Cross.  There is nothing He would not do for my good.  He gave everything up for me...  now it's my turn to give it all up to follow Him.  He is the Worthy King.

Thursday, September 27, 2018

Common Ground

I knew I was on to something new and scary and amazingly freeing the day my friend Katie, walked into my house unexpectedly and I didn't kill over and die.  Katie was my neighbor and our friendship had just begun to blossom, but our relationship mostly consisted of sitting out in the her front yard, watching our kids play in the street.  I was just in the beginning stages of understanding that I did not have to be perfect, but on this day I was pushed to a new place I didn't know I needed desperately to go.

That day Katie waltzed through the front door and called out my name, walking through the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she looked into my laundry room and said, "Wow, am I glad I saw that."  It looked like a clothes volcano had erupted.  She hadn't even made it into the kitchen yet, so I knew she was about to be relieved of any idea that I was the perfect mom and wife, but I realized that day how much I needed her to know that.  I needed her to take me down off the pedestal of perfection I could never actually maintain.

I was starting to understand a little of what Paul was saying in 2 Corinthians 12:9

"He said to me, 'My GRACE is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in WEAKNESS.' Therefore, I will GLADLY BOAST all the more in my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may reside in me."

For years I had been trying so hard to be the perfect wife and mother... I was on a mission of self-improvement to show myself, the world and God that I was good enough.  But, the truth was I was a overwhelmed mom of 5 young children, one who was still in diapers.  I was homeschooling 4 little people and any honest HS mom will tell you, that during the school year, it's either teach your kids OR have a clean house, but it's close to impossible to do both.  I couldn't keep up with laundry or dishes... so there was never going to be a day that was good for Katie to just drop in.  I'm so thankful that she pushed me out of my comfort zone that day.  What wasn't lost on me that day was her relief in being able to look behind the curtain and see who I really was.  She was happy to know that my laundry was piled up and my dishes were over-flowing and the most amazing thing is, from that day on she always came over to lend me a hand.

I learned a valuable lesson that day...  If I would be open and vulnerable and truthful about my weaknesses God would use that to help me where I was overwhelmed.

It's human nature to want to show your good side, to close the laundry room door, so no one is able to see the real us.  That's why Facebook and Instagram are so popular.  We take 55 selfies just to get perfect one, making sure our neck is stretched out and that crooked tooth is not showing too much, we choose the perfect filter and make sure the lighting is just right... all because we want people to see the good stuff.  We share our kid's achievements and our vacation pics, our date night selfies and nights out with friends.  We don't share that fight we just had with our spouse, or the money problems that plague us, we don't share that we just cried our eyes out in the bathroom, because we can't handle life.  We don't talk about the kid that's failing math or the one on drugs.  Of course I don't recommend sharing your most personal details with the world wide web...  but the thing is that a lot of times we treat our closest friends the same way.  We don't want people to see the mess that we really are.

But, I LOVE what Paul says in 2 Corinthians 11:30 "If I must boast, I will boast about the things that show my weakness."

Paul had a lot of achievements to boast in, but when he met Jesus, He realized that all the stuff that he could boast in was worthless.

Paul said in Philippians, "But everything that was gain to me, I have considered as loss because of Christ.  More than that, I also consider everything to be a loss in view of the SURPASSING value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord."

When Paul met Jesus and realized that no earthly achievement was able to save him, he considered it all worthless.  When He received the lavish GRACE of God, he was willing to let everything else he had hoped in fall away.  Only Jesus mattered.

I think about the mom wars...  you know working mom vs stay at home mom, breast feeding mom vs bottle feeding mom, granola mom vs twinky mom (I think I made that up), but you get the point.  When we boast about what we think we do well or the decisions we have made, we divide ourselves into groups.

You know that awkward moment when you met a totally adorable new mom at the park and you strike up a conversation, everything is going wonderfully, UNTIL you mention that you're a (fill in the blank) mom.  All of the sudden everything goes quiet and the conversation dies.  There seems to be no common ground...

But what happens when you have that honest moment with a friend and you share your struggle?  In that beautiful, vulnerable moment two souls, breath a sigh of relief and say, "Wow, I'm glad I saw that."

Think about sitting down talking basketball with Lebron James...  how would you feel leaving that conversation?  Talking to one of the "greats" would make me feel like a loser, who could never measure up.  But, imagine having a discussion about the struggles of parenting with him instead.  Imagine him sharing the struggles of balancing being a good dad and having to travel so much, imagine him saying he is burdened with guilt when he can't be there?  How would you feel then?  Empathetic? Compassionate? Connected?  Would you find some common ground when you saw his weakness and vulnerability and wouldn't that make you feel much closer to him, because he allowed you a glimpse behind the curtain of greatness to the real man inside.

"Therefore if I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness." Apostle Paul.

It's still hard to open my door wide and let the world see the truth, but the freedom is worth it.  So, come on in, peek in my laundry room, check out my over-flowing sink and let's find some common ground.










Tuesday, September 25, 2018

To Die For.

A pen moving furiously, a hand trying to keep up with a mind more complex than most, paper holding truths hidden in mysteries for thousands of years, a heart so overwhelmed with gratitude, it didn't matter that he is imprisoned?  The chain, of no consequence, he had found freedom that Rome could not take away.  Being under constant guard, nothing more than a chance to share the Gospel, every time the guard changed.

The words on the page, a letter to his brothers and sisters in the churches around the world.  Encouragement to hold on to the message they had received through him.  The message he would ultimately give his life for.

Paul once zealous for the God of Israel and ready to rid her of all evil, had been the chief tormentor of the local churches. Now after coming face to face with King Jesus, Lord of all the earth, Messiah, Savior and hearing the message clearly for the first time, was a new man.  His single-minded devotion to Christ and to sharing His Good News is unequalled.  Nothing will stop him from heralding the Kingdom of Christ Jesus.

The letter he writes pierces the heart of any believer in Christ:

"Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually advanced the gospel, so that it has become known in the whole imperial guard...that my imprisonment is because of Christ...  18)  What does it matter?  Only that in every way... Christ is proclaimed, and IN THIS I REJOICE."  Philippians 1:12-18

How could the man rejoice when he was sitting in prison?  When he had lost position, power, prestige, friends and freedom?  How could he say that the only thing that matters is Christ being proclaimed?

"To live is Christ and to die is gain?"   How could he utter these words and live them to the fullest?  What happened to him on that road to Damascus that so completely shifted his world view?

What teaching would Martin Luther, standing before the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, not recant on penalty of excommunication or death?  What truth did he hold to that was more precious than life?

What truth so enraptured John Knox, that he would allow himself to be chained night and day in the galleys for two years, convicted as a common criminal, instead of recanting his beliefs?

 Peter, James, John, Thomas, Philip all dying for the sake of the gospel...  Why was their message so dangerous?  Why were they so willing to give their lives for the advancement of the gospel?

What is the gospel?  It's the "Good News".  The message that the conquering King was victorious.  The message they were proclaiming is the rightful King of all creation had come and He had vanquished His enemies, by his death on the cross.  By giving himself as a sin offering, He had been the payment for our sins, by rising again, He had defeated our worst enemy, death.  On the cross He had accomplished what we COULD NOT accomplish no matter how hard we tried to keep the law.

When Paul met face to face with King Jesus, he knew that everything he had been striving for his whole life no longer mattered.  He saw in Christ, the peace of God toward man.  He saw in Christ that he no longer had to strive to earn the favor of God.  He no longer had to try to be good enough.  He saw that through Christ his sins had been forgiven, once and for all and he now had peace with God and access to the Father through the Son. He would rather die than go back to trying to earn his own salvation.  He would live out every last breath sharing the good news with anyone who would listen to him.

Peter, James, John, Martin Luther, John Knox and thousands like them would gave their lives on crosses, in arenas, attacked by wild animals, tortured to death on stakes, beaten, burned in the fire all for the sake of the good news they would never be able to recant.

"Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  COME TO ME.  Get away with me and you'll recover your life.  I'll show you how to take real rest.  Walk with me and work with me- watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of GRACE.  I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."   Matthew 11:28-30, MSG translation.

When you come to Jesus and you realize He has done all the work, you can rest.  You no longer have to prove anything to anyone.  Your standing before the God of Heaven is secure IN CHRIST and that truth is worth dying for.

Monday, September 24, 2018

I tried to be good...

I remember sitting in front of the TV, nursing a baby, scrolling mindlessly through a 100 channels when something on the screen jarred me out of my zombie state.  I was sucked into to marathon veg fest of "17 Kids and counting".   Right there on that couch I had finally found what I had been looking for... "the perfect Christian woman".   Michelle Duggar became the model that I pattered my life after.  She seemed to me to be exactly what every Christian woman should be and I wanted to be just like her.

Let me back track a little...  Growing up I was a wild child, least likely to succeed, bottom of my class and many other things that don't really matter now, but in my heart that's not really the girl I wanted to be.  Now that I'm an adult I can look back at my teenage rebel self and see with different eyes and I love that girl now, but I hated her then.  I did stuff I hated and I couldn't figure out why or how to not do it again.

At 19 I heard that greatest news of my life.  For the first time in 19 years someone explained the Gospel to me and this what they told me...

God created us.  He set some rules for his creation that were for their own good.  People broke those rules.  Sin separated us from God.  He had a plan to restore us to himself, because He loved us too much for us to be eternally separated from Him.  He sent His own Son to pay the penalty we could not pay.  If we accepted through faith the GIFT that was given to us we could be reconciled to God for eternity.

I could agree there was a God, but up until that point in my life I didn't know much about him, except He wanted me to be good and I didn't know how, so I agreed with all that.  I could not ever be good enough for God.  In fact I was really shocked when the church didn't catch on fire as my mom marched us down the center aisle to the front of the church, to sit close enough to the "holy man" to get sprayed with spittle when he got really excited.

When He shared the Gospel (good news) about Jesus I knew I had never in my life heard any better news and even though I had no idea what it meant to give my life to him, I handed over my messy life to Him and received His clean life.

I started going to church all the time (and liked it), started reading my Bible ( and LOVED it), started praying and talking to God about all my worries, fears, hopes and dreams...  I was astounded with this new experience with Jesus.

I knew I was supposed to be a new creation now and in a lot of ways I was, but what I didn't realize was that I still had all that old junk in there too.  It wasn't mysteriously gone.  I didn't know that God was going to be working on me from the inside out for the rest of my life.

Sadly, after a while I figured out that I still wasn't good.  I tried really hard for a while...  but some old things die hard.  I decided to give up trying...  so I quit going to church, stopped reading my Bible and I definitely couldn't pray, because I couldn't stand to think about God knowing all my junk.

I ran as far away from God as I could go, but He NEVER left me.  He continually called me back.  He whispered His love to my soul.  He drew me in with His promise that no matter what I have ever done or will ever do, NOTHING could cause Him to give up on me.  During that time I tried to drown out His voice so I could go on with my life without hearing from Him, but it never worked.

Against my will I ended up at church on a Sunday morning, feeling sick to my stomach, knowing I was polluting the people around me, worrying what rumors they might have heard about me, and wishing I could be anywhere else.  Standing up front the preacher passionately shared the story of the prodigal son.  Telling all who would listen about the son who had wasted his inheritance on partying and prostitutes and found himself cleaning pig pens and eating slop.  How the son decided to turn around and go home and beg forgiveness, but as He was approaching His Father, who had been waiting for him every day, started running to him and wrapped him up in his embrace. The Father wrapped his robe around him, restoring him to the family and then throwing a party to celebrate his home-coming.

The second best news of my life wrapped around my soul that day.  I promised myself that day I would do whatever I had to do to make up to my Father all that I had wasted.  I still didn't understand how GOOD God was.  I didn't understand that there would be many more times in my life that I would have to turn back to my Father and that He would ALWAYS have open arms for me.  I didn't understand GRACE.

Grace- favor, love and acceptance that I COULD NEVER EARN.

I wanted to put as much distance between me and that girl who had wasted her life.  I didn't want anything in my life to resemble that girl I was.

That's where Michelle Duggar comes in.  If I copied her and did what she did then maybe I could finally be good enough.  So I started growing my hair long, wearing only skirts, making sure my house was perfect and my children were well-behaved.  I tried to talk with a sugar-sweet voice, I tried to be the perfect wife and mother.

I found out it was really hard to be someone else.  I really missed my old faded blue-jeans, and I'm not really a great house cleaner, so my house was always a mess (so no one could stop-by, I would die 50 slow deaths), my hair starts breaking off after it gets passed my shoulders and if you know me at all, you KNOW I don't have a sugar-sweet voice.  My kids talk about farting and every other in-appropriate thing in the world and sometimes my husband and I have heated exchanges that would disqualify me for perfect wife.

The harder I tried to be like her the more I felt like a failure.  I wanted to be good enough, but striving to be someone that I perceived to be good, was more like a full-time job.  The heavy burden starting making me anxious and I didn't want to be around anyone, because I felt like people were always judging me... and they thought I was judging them.  I started to suffer with depression and I HATED my life.

A friend at church, who had seen the inner struggle and who was smart enough to know that I was trying to EARN what had already been given to me, handed me a Bible study called "Stuck".  The first week the verses were all centered in Ephesians chapter 1-2.  That week I reread those chapters repeatedly until they were imprinted in my mind...  and I heard the 3rd best news of my life...

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared ahead of time for us to do."  Eph 2:10

Time is too short to share all the verses that lead up to this one, but the basic thing that struck my heart like a lightning bolt that day was that God created me (individually) for reasons that He decided long before I was born.  He made me ME!!!  That day I quit trying to be someone else.  I still have a great love for Michelle as a woman, who obviously loves Jesus, BUT that day I felt like chains had been removed from my body.  I felt for the first time in my life the true freedom of GRACE.

For the first time in my life I knew that I was never going to be good enough for myself or anybody else and that was ok.  The freedom of knowing that I could NEVER do anything to earn God's favor was life-giving news.

Knowing that God loved me infinitely more than I could understand on my best day and my worst day set me free from earthly expectations (mine and others).

I'm not going to do the "right" things all the time and that's ok...  I'm not going to respond the right way or speak kindly all the time.  I'm never going to be perfect and that's some good news!!!


Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Not Another Day.

Countless journals entries filled with tears, calling out for rescue from my faceless enemy.  The one who haunts my sleeping hours, the one who steals my joy during the day.  The worry bringing into focus only my fears and failure.  When will you finally come and help me?  But, if I'm honest I would have to say, again?  You have rescued me from this prison before, for me to only run back once again.  

They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.  Maybe, I'm insane.  

I see myself in the Children of Israel as the spies return from the Promised Land, bringing back their bounty and sharing tales of beautiful landscapes truly filled with plenty.  The initial excitement of seeing two men carry a pole between them laden with a single huge cluster of grapes, juicy red pomegranates and delicious figs, food they had never seen in Egypt, is contagious.  Hearing the men report back to Moses, "Indeed the land is flowing with milk and honey," must have caused waves of frenzied excitement to flow through the crowds.  But just as swiftly as they had rejoiced, the rest of the report causes fear to radiate and pulse from person to person and from one family to the next.  Giants, fortified cities and enemies too fierce and numerous for a bunch of newly released slaves to face.  

All of Israel begins to cry out and complain against Moses and Aaron, accusing them of bringing the whole assembly out into the wilderness to die.  Accusing God of allowing their wives and children to become plunder and finally crying out to go back to the very land of oppression they had just been miraculously delivered from.  

The Israelites feared the people of the land more than they feared the God, who had parted the Red Sea for them to walk through and then drowned their enemies in the turbulent waters.  They forgot to remember in their panic that the One True God was fighting for them.  And a sad thing happened that day...  God gave them over to their fears.  That generation spent the next 40 years walking around the same mountain and dying in the same desert.  Choosing to live by sight and not walk in faith cost them the abundance that God had for them.

Oh, they were able to live to a good old age and God fed them with manna from heaven.  He supernaturally kept their shoes and clothes from wearing out and they lived a comfortable, faithless life in the wilderness.  They never really had to face any hardship or fight any battles.  They were safe and protected by the presence of God every day.  They walked out of their tents every morning and picked manna from the ground and drank water from the springs and moved when God moved and stayed when He was still, but they never saw all the good that God had for them.  They never again tasted grapes, pomegranates and figs.  They never tasted the honey from the new land, they never saw those walled fortresses collapse, they never saw enormous armies put to flight, they never lived in houses they didn't build and harvest crops they didn't plant.  

14,600 days they walked around the same mountain until they died.  

I don't want to walk around this mountain ONE. MORE. DAY.  

Not another day.  There may be giants, but who can be against me IF God be for me?  There may be walled cities, but God can knock those walls down.  There may be warriors, and I may be only a newly freed slave, BUT God is fighting for me.  There may be weapons I've never seen and chariots and horses, BUT I will trust in the NAME OF MY GOD.  

One thing I do NOT want to do is die in this wilderness because I was too afraid to take what was rightfully mine.   The Giants in my mind may scorn, they may laugh, but if I can help it, the fear that bullies me now will come face to face with my God.  

I want to spend the next 14,600 days watching God do things that I never thought possible.  I want the abundant faith-filled life that Jesus promised to those who believed in Him.  I don't want to just see the land from a distance, I want to walk in the length, the width of it.  I want to trade my comfort for your best.  

Fear and Faith can't cohabitate, so Lord help me walk in Faith for the rest of my days.  

"Now without faith it is impossible to please God, since the one who draws near to Him MUST BELIEVE that He exists and is the rewarder of those who seek Him."  Hebrews 11:6

"By FAITH our ancestors won God's approval." Hebrews 11:2

Faith is the evidence, of what you believe.  Faith is the action you take in accordance to what you say you believe about God.  Let's not let fear hold us hostage one more day!  Take that step of faith.  

Friday, May 25, 2018

Back At The Lake


They call it “retail therapy”.   She can feel the excitement building as she whips her shiny new car, into the parking space.  Work was crap today.   No matter how hard she works, it’s always the same… somebody is complaining and she’s never enough.  The “career” that she thought was going to finally fulfill her and make her feel important, is actually  just a paycheck.  The disappointment of finally reaching the zenith only to find out there’s nothing there, it’s all just vapor has left her empty inside.  So, she goes shopping.   She can feel the rush as soon as the click of her heels hits the linoleum.  New aviator sunglasses, lip-plumping gloss and a cute pair of sandals quickly find their way in her basket and she’s feeling euphoric.  Shopping always makes her feel better.  Walking up to the register, the feel of cold plastic in her hands, probably feels just like the rush of the addicts’ needle.  The fact that she had to open a new charge account, because all the others are maxed out is a problem she will deal with later.  Walking out she knows she must hide the evidence, so she throws the receipt in the trash and tucks the bags under the back seat of the car…  she’s got to make sure her husband doesn’t see her coming in with another bag, because that’s sure to cause a fight.  She’s figured out if he never sees her carry the stuff in, he doesn’t know any difference from the new and old.  In the back of her mind she knows she’s putting a lot at risk for such a short-lived thrill.

Sitting on a barstool in a Chili’s an hour away from his house, he’s thinking he should really go home.  He loves his wife and his kids, he really does, it might not look like it from the outside, but he does.  He’s already ordered a whiskey and coke and as he sips on it, borrowing courage, he waits for her.  They met at work.  They laugh over the same stupid office jokes, making fun of people, like the  brown noser and the flirt who shows all her business and the skinny nerd with all the answers.   She’s young and cute and she makes him feel young and alive again.  The blood is pumping in his veins as he waits in anticipation for the next few hours.  He knows what he’s risking, but the pain is worth the pleasure.  If his wife found out he was doing this again, she’d leave and take his kids with her.   She hates him, he can see it in her eyes every day, the disappointment and disgust, because she had some fairy tale in mind when they got married.  Truth is… so did he.  He really believed she was the one that was going to make him feel like a man and with her life was going to exceed his expectations.  Reality bites.  He knows everything he’s risking doing this again, but he sits there waiting.

It’s a Tuesday night, the kids are in finally in bed.  Tension, stress, and frustration have been a constant companion all day.  She has all she could have ever dreamed of, an amazing husband, beautiful kids, nice house, and yet there are things she didn’t dream of.  She never dreamed she would say the things that she says to her kids.  She never dreamed it was all going to be this hard.  Another night ended in ugly words and guilty feelings.  Sitting in the living room, tv playing in the background, thumbing blinding through Facebook, she pops the top on a can.  Taking the first few sips, it only takes seconds for the knot in the back of her neck to disappear.  Minutes later the stress of the day has completely melted away.  She knows this isn’t really going to solve any problems.  In fact, she will wake up tomorrow tired and groggy and the cycle will start again…  but even though she knows it only makes things worse… she pops the top again and the rush of alcohol hits her bloodstream making her forget for now.

Sitting in the Doctor’s office, he rehearses what he’s going to say.  The Doctor is going to tell him that he doesn’t need the pills and that the dose he’s on is enough, maybe he should see a therapist, it’s all in his head, but he knows he needs those pills.  He used the month's prescription in just 2 weeks and he’s been having withdrawals for days, he’s already anxious and the sweat is beading on his brow and his hands are clammy.  He hates being here.  He hates the way people look at him, like he’s a freak, because stuff that “normal” people don’t get worked up about he does.  He hates life really.  The only thing that makes him feel ok is the pills.  It sucks majorly that they don’t last forever.  The truth is they don’t make him feel better… they make him feel nothing and nothing is exactly what he wants to feel.  He doesn’t want to feel sad, or lonely, or invisible. He wants to feel numb, dead would be even better.  He knows the pills are not making life better, but he needs them anyway.

She finds herself in the drive-thru line again.  It’s been a horrible day.  Screw the diet, she just wants to feel the rush of the Dr. Pepper hit her veins and the smell of the French fries wafting from the McDonald’s has already made her physically relax.  Just knowing in five minutes she can pull over in the parking lot and tear into the bag makes her feel almost happy.  She eats alone, because she cannot stand for people to look at her with disgust.  Stupid people, like they don’t eat every freaking day too.  But, she pulls into the last parking spot with a lone tree surrounded by concrete to shade her.  Here she’s safe to eat in peace and she’s happy for the first time today.  The fries are perfect, and the DP is just what she needed, but the burger is gone before she realizes she’s eaten it.   Maybe she should pull around and order another, but they would probably recognize her.  Maybe she’ll just go to DQ across the street and get a shake.  Decision made she starts the car up to head across the intersection.  She knows what she’s risking… health, feeling good about herself… but the temptation to fix her feelings with food is just too strong.

He sits down at the computer, pushes the power button, waiting for the browser to pop up.  The anticipation is building in his veins as his mind is already conjuring images that his imagination can feast on.  He didn’t mean to get into this kind of thing… it was actually by accident when he clicked on an innocent looking pop-up add one night when he couldn’t sleep.  Hours later he came out of a fog, feeling sick with guilt for what he had just spent hours looking at.  If his parents ever found out about this obsession he would be in so much trouble.  They think he’s gaming and they never give him any grief.  They never ask why he turned his desk around facing the door and they never check to see what’s on his computer, but he’s careful anyway, making sure to hide the evidence of his online fantasy world. Everyday he tells himself he’s not going to do this again, but every day he fails again.  Sadly, he’s lost interest in football and he hasn’t hung out with his friends lately… even though he knows this is sick, and he’ll be consumed with guilt later, nothing excites him quite like what he sees on this screen.

He felt like a ball of frustration and anger and self-loathing.  Everything had gone wrong.  He was confused and tired and angry and he wanted to be numb.  He didn’t want to feel or think anymore.  There was only one thing that could make him feel numb.  Peter, sick of feeling disappointed, abruptly stood up, looked at the men around him and said, “I’m going fishing.”  His friends decided to come along and now he found himself standing on the boat, with the familiar feel of the waves rocking beneath him.  Balancing himself against the sway of the boat felt good, it felt right, it felt comfortable.  The water reflecting the morning sun, the breeze touching his face and smell of fish were exactly what his weary soul longed for.  The only problem being the fact that he would never be able to escape what had happened in the last couple of days.  He was still in shock.  Jesus, the Messiah, his best friend had been arrested, beaten and nailed to a cross and he, Peter, had betrayed him.  He had denied knowing him and he had run, when he said he would stay and die with him.  Now Jesus was dead and nothing made sense.  He couldn’t sort out the jumbled mess that was in his head.  He didn’t know how to fix this or if he would ever get over this, but he knew that fishing would as least make him feel nothing for a while. 

Instead of making Peter feel better, fishing today actually made him feel more like a loser…  how bad was it when a fisherman couldn’t even catch fish?  With empty nets, they decided to head back to shore.  Distracted by his self-loathing, he didn’t see the man standing on the shore, but hearing someone call out he looked up, barely catching the greeting called out across the water…  “Friends, you don’t have any fish, do you?”

Thanks for stating the obvious stranger, Peter thought, but he called out, “No,” instead of what he wanted to say.  The man on shore said, “Cast out on the right side of the boat, and you’ll find some.”  Oh, really, Peter thinks, but something seems familiar about this episode and about the man on shore, so they threw their nets out on the other side of the boat and fish throw themselves in the net and some distant memory comes rushing to Peter’s mind, of the first time Peter had met Jesus.  In the background he hears someone call out, “It’s the Lord.”  Realizing that Jesus really was standing at the shore calling out to them and that He had called them friends made something in Peter crack.  Frantically, pulling his outer clothes around him, he plunged into the water, unable to wait for the boat to carry him to shore.  He had to get to Jesus.  Even though Peter was frantic to get to Jesus, he hesitated for a moment, not knowing how Jesus would respond, but Jesus rushed to him and wrapped his arms around Peter in a bear hug.  The love and forgiveness that Peter knew in that moment was the purest feeling he ever known.   Peter allowed the shame and self-hate to melt away because He knew that in spite of all that he had done wrong and all the times he had messed up he was loved and forgiven. 

Later that morning, Jesus took Peter aside and restored him completely and fully and commissioned him to carry on the work that Jesus was doing.  Somewhere in Peter’s confused mind he realized that only now after he had been broken could he be fully used by God.  Somehow, he had a new understanding that the Kingdom of God was not about over-throwing earthly kingdoms, but it was about forgiveness and restoration and reconciliation, and now Peter knew how to follow Jesus better.  He understood now that the most power thing in the world was forgiveness. 

Going back to the lake was how Peter handled his problems when his shame kept him from Jesus.  Going back to the lake is what we do when we go back to that familiar comfort instead of going to Jesus.  It’s that old thing that never helped us before, but we lie to ourselves that maybe this time will be different.  It’s never different.  I’m not sure what is driving you back to the lake, but I do know that Jesus is standing on the shore calling out to you friend.  He’s saying you won’t find what you’re looking for there…  somehow the net is always empty.  He is saying I have what you need…  Friend, come to me. 

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

The Reasons Why


Machines hum in the background, the tv’s turned low, some cooking show, she’s watching, even though she hasn’t eaten food in a week.  Tubes and wires connect her to the fluids that are keeping the pain manageable.  They talk about things like Jesus and heaven and all the things you talk about before someone leaves this life.  “Are you scared”, the daughter asks her mom. 

Tears that stay right under the surface of the smiles and assurances that everything is ok come flooding down her puffy cheeks and mirror the ones pooling in the eyes of her daughter.  Of course, she’s scared. They are both terrified.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Life was just beginning to make sense.  There were grandkids to enjoy and holidays for making memories.  There was Taco Tuesday, little league football games, babies to meet and an adult mom/daughter friendship with many years left to grow.  There were shopping trips left, there were awards ceremonies to cheer at, there were little people to laugh at and a daughter who needed a mom. 

A daughter who needed a mom.  A daughter who prayed fervently for her mother not to leave.  A daughter who wasn’t ready for the end.  A daughter who lost faith as she sat on that bedside knowing this was the end.  God would not answer her prayer for healing.  She would see no miracle.

Sitting at the bedside, holding her hand, and waiting for those final moments to pass, she felt a crack in her soul.  She said all the right things… that people needed to hear like, “she’s in a better place” and “she’s not in pain anymore”, she accepted the hugs and the comfort that other people needed to give to make themselves feel better.  She smiled at the funeral and squeezed hands and tried to make everyone else feel comfortable in her presence.

She went on with life, trying the best she could to not allow her pain to mess up other people’s lives.  When people asked how she was, she gave the standard answers that made them feel better.  She tried not to have bad days that would affect her kids and she tried to pretend that everything was ok.  She tried to believe that heaven was better for her mom and that she was happy, but the truth was she didn’t.

The truth was she was angry. The day she realized her mom was never getting better something broke inside her.  The day that she realized God was not going to heal her mom, everything changed. 

He could no longer be trusted with the things she loved.  She had prayed and begged and pleading for healing that didn’t come, and He had been silent.  Her faith in a good, loving Father evaporated.  Oh, she still went along like she believed it all, and maybe she even lied to herself, but her faith was shattered that day. 

People noticed that something was different, but they really couldn’t put a finger on it.  She wasn’t herself anymore, and that bothered a few, but no one could have known the depths of her despair.  They couldn’t know how betrayed she felt. They couldn’t have known how angry she was.  They couldn’t have known how much of her time she spent wanting her mom back and how cheated she felt. 

They couldn’t have known that she felt like God owed her, because he had already taken one mom from her when she was only a baby, too young to remember her.  No one knew that she felt like he had betrayed her twice and now she lived in constant fear that He would take someone else away that she loved. 

She kept all that to herself, because people can’t handle the pain in another person’s heart.  For years she pretended.  She went to church, she read her Bible, she prayed, but the anger and the hurt and the betrayal lingered under the surface contaminating everything in her life.  Her marriage suffered, her friendships suffered, her children suffered because the fear that was ruling her could only damage and lash out.  She couldn’t take it out on God, so she took it out on everyone else. 

She could no longer trust Him, so she couldn’t trust anyone else.  Security, peace, hope, and joy were replaced by fear, rage, and hopelessness.   Eventually, rage turned into unbelief…  she no longer believed that God was good and that He could be trusted.  Nothing made sense anymore and if she'd had no children to worry about she would have left her Christian faith far behind. 

I still don’t understand.  I still look out at my children playing with their cousins and I long for her.  I long to see the tranquil look on her beautiful face as she takes in the chaos.  I still long for her kiss on my cheek and the love in her eyes as she enjoyed watching her rebellious teenagers morph into competent, responsible adults.  I miss her voice.  Christmas has lost a little magic, because she’s not here.  I think of her every day, all day and I still cry, because it hurts worse now than it did that day I stood beside her casket. 

I still don’t understand why.  But, through the haze of rage and fear, Jesus NEVER once left my side.  He allowed me to cry when no one else could handle it.  He allowed me to question and to argue.  He allowed me to doubt.  He comforted me like only He can. 

One day not long after my mom passed away, I had stopped praying and reading the Bible, but for school each day my beginning readers would read a chapter to me.  That day both read the same story out of different books.  The first time I didn’t pay any attention, I was distracted and just wanted to get this over with.  You know how it is when you have kids learning how to read… the sounding out words is almost worse than a needle in your eye. 

The next one snuggled up beside me and starts reading and instantly my attention turns to what he is reading.  I know they are in different books and some may call this a coincidence, but I knew in that moment what I hadn’t gotten before the Spirit of God wanted me to understand now. So, I listened a little closer.  After the reading session was over I took my bible in my room and fell on the floor and prayed.  What are you trying to say, Lord? 

This is the story I heard that day and this is the story I read today and the one that I’ve read hundred times in the last 6 years.  This is the story that pierces my soul every time I hear it, and this is the story that brought me back to faith in a good God, who loves me and even when I can’t understand He can be trusted. 

“Just then, a man name Jairus came.  He was a leader of the synagogue.  He fell down at Jesus’s feet and pleaded with him to come to his house, because he had an only daughter about 12 years old, and she was dying.”

While Jesus was going with Jairus to heal his daughter, a woman came and touched his robe and she was healed of a blood disease she had had for 12 years.  During the commotion that followed Jairus’s daughter died.  His servants came to him and said, “Don’t bother the Master anymore, your daughter is dead.”

When Jesus heard this, the Bible says He turned to Jairus and said, “Don’t be afraid, Only believe, and she will be saved.” Luke 8:50

I can see Jesus with fire in His eyes willing Jairus to believe.  Willing him to hold on to that little spark of faith that had compelled him to seek Jesus out in the first place.  I can see Jesus holding his gaze and convincing Jairus that He really did have the power to raise the dead. 

I can see Jesus turn to me again and again as we walk to our destination and say I KNOW what you see.  I know it’s hard to believe.  I know you are afraid and I know you are sad, but JUST BELIEVE.  I can see Jesus put His arm around me and reassure me that everything is going to be ok. 

No, He didn’t answer my prayer.  No, my mom didn’t get healed (on this side anyway), no she’s not here, BUT if I just keep on believing I’m going to see her again someday.  

I know my mom would be begging me, if she could, to not be afraid.  She would say, “Angela follow Him, believe Him and you will see miracles.” 

My reasons why I have struggled over the years to follow Jesus are my own, but you have them too.  I see it in many Christians I know…  we all have our reasons why we stopped believing.  We all have our reasons why we started playing church instead of walking on water.  We’re afraid to get hurt, we’re afraid to believe again.

Fear permeates everything in our life and instead of joy we are bitter, instead of peace we are control-freaks.   Instead of love we feel empty.  Somewhere along the way, we stopped believing, BUT Jesus is turning to us today and saying, “Don’t be afraid, just believe…”

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Where is Your Faith?


This was crazy.  Abraham could not believe what he was doing.  Trudging up the mountain, sweat pouring down his back and Isaac following behind him.  His mind consumed with anxious thoughts.  He didn’t hear the first few times Isaac asked him, but the boy's question finally penetrated his preoccupied thoughts. 

“Where we going, Dad?”

How could he answer that question?  He really wished that he could understand God.  He had tried to please this unseen God.  From the first day the Voice had spoken to him and called him by name, Abraham had tried to do everything He commanded.  Leave your family and go where I tell you, had been the first thing He said.  No one had understood then and certainly no one will understand now. 

Abraham had been humbled to be chosen by God.  Who was he?  He was no one… but God had chosen him and made him unbelievable promises and showered him with blessings.  The greatest blessing of all was walking up this mountain behind him.  Remembering the reason for this trek brought a fresh wave of tears to Abraham’s eyes.

Isaac, his beloved son, his heir, the fulfillment of the promise, the son of his old age.  He was a miracle.  Who would have ever believed that Abraham, having already lived a century and Sarah at 90 could have a son, but he was learning, with God all things are possible. 

Possible. That’s why he was doing this.   Walking up this mountain, with Isaac following behind him, asking what they were doing, he was trusting that with God all things were possible, like raising his  son from the dead. 

Why?  Why would Jehovah be asking him to do this? He was not like the other gods that Abraham’s family had worshipped in Ur.  He didn’t require human sacrifice.  He was the living God.  He gave life, he didn’t take it, and yet He had demanded Abraham sacrifice his beloved son. 

The troubling thoughts continued to plague Abraham as he ascended the steep slopes of Mt. Moriah.  Usually the beauty surrounding him would calm his soul and remind him of the gracious hand of the Creator, but today nothing could still his thoughts. 

What would he tell Sarah?  He hadn’t said anything, because what do you say?  “Hey, you know the son God promised us, that we waited so long for, uh yeah I’m going to take him up the mountain and sacrifice him.” 

Why God?  Why did you ask this?  A thousand tangled thoughts were colliding in Abraham’s mind, but the one thought that stilled all the others was that God had been so good to him.  He remembered all the times that he had done what God had told him by faith, and all the times that God had rewarded that fledgling seed of faith.  He remembered all the times that he had gotten himself into bad situations and all the times God had rescued him.  He remembered the joy of finding out that Sarah’s dead womb had conceived a child.  He remembered holding Isaac in his arms and laughing with joy, because God had done the impossible.

Remembering calmed his heart.  Even though he didn’t understand why or how, Abraham knew that God was good and that nothing was impossible with him.  He knew that God could be trusted, even with the one thing that Abraham loved most in the world.  He knew that if God told him to do something, somehow it was going to be ok. 

Too soon Abraham and Isaac reached the top of the mountain.  Abraham leaned on his staff to catch his breath and to stall, hoping beyond hope that God would call this whole thing off.  After a few minutes he told Isaac to help him build an alter to perform the sacrifice on. 

“Well, Dad, the fire and wood are here, but where is the Lamb?” Isaac innocently asked.  Looking away across the distant hills, Abraham lifted his eyes to expanse of blue above him and said, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.” 

When Abraham could stomach the fear no longer he called Isaac over to him.  Submissively following his father’s instructions, he allowed himself to be bound and placed on the alter.  Abraham couldn’t speak, there were no words for this.  The horrible pit of pain and fear in his stomach were making it hard to breath.  The innocent love looking up at him from his precious son’s eyes was more than a father should have to bear.  GOD WHY????? 

Abraham raised the knife to do what God had told him to do.  This was the moment.  He was going to kill his own son, but as he raised the knife in his hand, He heard his name called out from heaven…  “Abraham, Abraham!” 

“Here I am.”  Abraham replied. 

The Lord said, “Do not lay a hand on the boy or do anything to him.  FOR NOW I KNOW YOU fear God, since you have not withheld your only son from me.”  At that moment Abraham heard the bleating of a ram, turning around he saw it stuck in the thicket behind him.  Relief, joy, tears all collided in that moment. 

The Lord had provided.  He was good.  He was gracious.  He had made a way.  He had tested Abraham’s greatest fears and although this was the hardest thing Abraham had ever in his life experienced, he felt set free.  He had faced his worst nightmare and with the Lord, he had come through it better than he was before. 

Abraham couldn’t find words to express what was in his heart.  For the first time in Abraham’s life he knew no fear.  God’s perfect love had cast out his fear.  His light had shown in Abraham’s darkness.  He had exposed the lies hidden in the depths of his heart.  The Lord had shown Abraham that there was nothing to fear when you were His.

I have been a Christian for twenty years and just in the past few years has God been exposing how much of my life has been governed by fear instead of faith.  Every time He asks me to take a step I argue and rationalize and try to find another way.  My faith being in what I can see, but God is testing that.  He’s asking me to face my fears.  He’s asking me to step out on unknown waters and do things I don’t think I can do, only to find out that HE has already provided everything I need, once I take the step. 

One day a few men were out on a boat and when an intense storm came out of nowhere.  They were frantic and sure that death was imminent.   They didn’t know what the sleeping guy down below could do, but they knew they had to go wake him up.  “Master, master we’re going to die.”, they frantically cried out. 

Jesus got up and with the authority of a military general He called out to the wind and waves to cease and immediately they calmed.  Then He turned to his disciples and said, “Where is your faith?”

Where is your faith today?  Is it in you?  Is it in your wisdom?  Is it in your circumstances or is it in God?  Is your faith in the sovereign Creator King of the Universe, who with mere words spoke galaxies into existence?  Is your faith in the One who can calm seas, hung the stars in place, and fed 5000 with a few fish and a little bread?  Is your faith in the One who loved you so much that He sent HIS OWN BELOVED SON TO DIE?  Or is your faith in your understanding? 

Where is your faith today?  If God is asking you to do a very hard thing, that you know you can not do, be assured He will provide a way for you to do it.  Be still and know that HE is good, and He is God and He will make a way.  Calm your anxious thoughts today, by remembering who HE is and then take that next step of faith.


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