Resting in His Provision

I wrote this on the Fall Student Ministry Retreat as I sat by a brook in the middle of the forest.  Reading it over and over again takes me back to the overwhelming peace I experienced that morning. Hear the meditations of my heart that I might go back to that rest time and again:

God I am overwhelmed by how vast You are. You placed each star in the Heavens and You know them by  name. You placed each rock in this creek and poured the water out to flow down so very long ago, and yet as You laid each rock and positioned each star You knew that at this moment, in this weekend, I would sit here and gaze at them and stand in awe of You.  My mind can't comprehend how awesomely, all-powerful You are, and how intimately You know me, love me and speak to me. I'm such a tiny part of a much greater story and yet You care about my minuscule plot line.  You have crafted this world, these people, my experiences to reverberate Your story in my heart! I love Your ways O Lord! My heart cannot contain the joy that flows from Your love for me!

I just cannot get over the birds that are flying about and landing on the trees before me. All I keep thinking on is Matthew 6:26 "Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, and yet Your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?" Jesus, the number of birds that fly through the air and alight on branches around me are many and I am seeing such a small portion of this Earth. Multiply that over and over and over again for the uncountable birds on this Earth. You provide for every single one, and Your word says I am worth much more than these. 

Why do I ever doubt Your provision? Lord I pray that when I worry or fear, You would bring me a bird and remind me of this moment. Let me be grounded in this truth of Your word. You, O Lord, are my Provider. At no point are You worried or concerned about how You will provide for me. Your resources are limitless! You could conjure money out of thin air. You could spring up a garden of delicious fruit in my back yard. You could place a glass of healing elixir on my nightstand or lay Your hand on my body and remove all illness. You are never at a loss for how to provide for me! Please Jesus, let me rest in this truth! Help me to cease striving and be at rest in You.

Amen

How I Found Rest

I have so many truths in my heart right now, so much that God is unveiling to me, that I almost do not know where to begin.  God is so good to speak to our hearts, He is so gracious to include me in His words and in His ways, and I am overwhelmed by how much my understanding of God has grown and changed these past few months.  Yet as I grow in deeper understanding I also recognize that there is so much more to learn.  How amazing is our God that we cannot even begin to fathom the depth of His character, love, mercy, grace!  What joy in the discovering and the knowing! He is so good to me; let me tell you of His goodness.

By nature I am a doer, I'm quite certain I have been my whole life.  How can I help?  How can I serve? What can I do? What rules should I follow? What's the strategy to win? To succeed? To be noticed? To. Be. Loved? I am so much a doer that there are many times in my life when doing has been impossible (re: I have a cranky newborn), and I actually do not know who I am.  If I'm not helping someone, then who am I?  Of course I never really saw it this way.  I mean, I was helping.  I was doing the right thing, and that was all that mattered.  I was being noticed for my good works.  I was following God's law.  Basically you could call me a Pharisee, a follower of the law externally with an askew heart, but oh how my heart could not see that. 

Some teenagers get attention by acting out, but for me I was all about seeking attention by doing what was right.  I wrote encouraging letters to friends (so that they would think of me as a good friend), I helped teachers out (so that they would see me as a good student), I showed up at church every Sunday (so that the pastors and God could see what a faithful girl I was).  I wanted to be noticed.  I wanted to be loved.  So badly.

And in some ways it is hard to track my progress down this do-gooder road because it became so much a part of every day life.  I was reading my Bible every day, I was listening to sermons to learn more about what to do right, I was serving in ministries that had need, I was giving money away, I was being a good friend.  And all the while I was unconsciously thinking, "God, am I doing it right? Have you noticed me yet? Do you love me yet? I mean I'm checking all the boxes. Or is it not enough? Should I be doing more? I haven't fed the homeless in a while. There are still some needs for child care at the church. I'll try to do those too. Let me know if there's more You need me to do. I'm here. I'm available. Please use me (and please say that I'm enough)."

I was exhausted.  I was so weary from trying to figure out what I needed to do, and then trying to do it.  I was exhausted from wondering if God loved me or if my friends loved me or if Herb loved me or if my kids loved me. I was constantly seeking approval.  And it was a sickness. 

It was especially a sickness because I knew in my head that God gives rest. I could tell anyone who would listen about the beauty of the cross, about grace, about how I didn't have to earn anything. God's free gift to me was salvation, freedom from sin, freedom from my attempts at righteousness.  But nothing about me was restful.  I kept saying with my actions "it's the power of the cross PLUS whatever I can do that saves me."  I really did not understand the power of the cross at all.  I was so wrapped up in earning my acceptance that I was busy rejecting the acceptance that God gives freely. ("Therefore, accept one another, just as Christ also accepted us to the glory of God."Romans 15:7) I could recite Ephesians 5:8-9 ("For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.") but I missed the whole point of the free gift.  I believed the works God had prepared ahead of time for me were so that I could make sure people knew I loved Him.  It was all about the proving for me.

And in this exhausting cycle of proving myself, I constantly questioned whether I was really saved by God. I mean, if it's all about what I'm doing, then there is a pretty good chance I'm not doing enough.  And if I'm not good enough, then He might drop me.  Oh how it saddens my heart to put words to these thoughts!  Because these are the words of someone who doesn't know the cross.  The beauty of Christianity, the beauty of Jesus is that He has done it all!  He has lived a perfect life! (I don't have to live perfectly, not that I even could!) He has accomplished it all! (My accomplishments aren't necessary because it is all His work being done anyway.)  He earned MY salvation; He was good enough, perfect, and yet died anyway, so that I do not have to! 

My eyes have been opened to this truth: the cross is not just about paying the penalty for my sin (although that is absolutely a powerful part of the cross), but it's also about the fact that Jesus lived perfectly.  He worked perfectly, He loved perfectly, He served perfectly, He worshiped perfectly, so I do not have to (Hebrews 10:14).  He did all of those things in my place!  I am free!  I am no longer enslaved by having to do anything perfectly!  I am free to love, worship, work, serve and do so in my own imperfect way knowing that God already filled in the gaps.  Nothing I can do can add to the work of the cross.  My life here, my work, my words are all the Lord's, they are His to use, they come from Him, and He will work them together for His good (Romans 8:28)!

This truth is SO exciting to me!  I cannot tell you the freedom I am experiencing newly each day as I rise to walk into this world.  On the cross, as Jesus breathed His last breath He said, "It is finished" and oh the power of these words!  It is all complete in Him. Jesus has done it all and I am free!



I am experiencing a new rest.  I now feel frenetic stress to be or do far less often. I look at each situation and recognize that God is the one at work and if I don't have the resources or the capacity to serve that I can ask Him to accomplish it and He will. When it's not in my hands but His, there is so much REST!

I'm excited to know this truth before my kids are fully grown. I'm excited at the prospect of raising them in a home where they feel free to obey and love and serve rather than feel burdened to do those things!  I'm excited to show them the cross that I now know, the cross that allows me to breathe. I'm excited to turn them toward the Savior who gave it all so that I might know this freedom.

Monday I wrote these words in my journal, "It isn't about works, it's about turning to Jesus time and again. Turning to Him when I'm anguished, fearful, sinful, joyful, weary, lost.  This turning testifies to my eternal faith in Him more than anything else I might do.  And this turning to Jesus defines me, it is true of me. So let me rest."

May this be the testimony of my life. In my moments of inadequacy, of self-sufficiency, of brokenness, of pride, of dejection, and of jubilation let me return to Him.  May I walk back to the cross, drop to my knees and look up into the face of the one who freed me.  May I let Him whisper the words "It is finished Katie" over and over when I try to earn my way yet again.  May I hear "It is finished Katie" when I see how much pain I've inflicted with my words or my selfishness. May I shout from the rooftops "IT IS FINISHED KATIE" whenever I desire the approval of others.  Because God loves me for me, not for what I can do for Him. He gave me the cross because He looked on me and loved me.  He loved me enough to free my from my slavery, and to allow me to walk in His light.

O the wonderful cross, now I may truly live.

"Did You Really Mean It?"

After my blog post last night about A Severe Mercy I went to bed full of joy and peace.  Somehow the words that I wrote had seeped into my soul, reviving me and reminding me that I do indeed trust my Maker to give me the very best.

But while I slept I had a horrible nightmare.  It started with the usual bad guys chasing me sort of thing.  I thought I was clear of them, and I was driving in my car talking on the phone to my friend Melinda.  We exchanged the normal chit chat until I saw that the villains had found me and were indeed shooting at my car.  A bullet grazed the window but didn't break the glass. It was at that point that I decided the best course of action would be for me to ram my car into the wall right in front of me.  I thought my pursuers would think I was dead and leave me alone, but what I didn't know was that there was a bicyclist on the other side of the wall.  Long and short of it is that the bicyclist died and I found myself explaining to the cops why I had done such an insane act.  "I was being pursued!  They were shooting at me!" was met with "Have you been drinking Ms. Garcia? Were you distracted by your phone?"  They didn't arrest me that night but the plan was to bring me in for more questioning in the morning.  I found myself face to face with my dad sobbing and saying, "I just wrote these words.  I just blogged that 'all that can be shaken will be shaken'.  My life as I know it is going to be over. I'm going to prison. My kids will be left alone. God is shaking me!"  And with that I woke up, heart-racing, panicked.

As I recounted my dream to Herb these questions filled my mind: will I still trust Him?  If this exact thing were to happen tonight, if my distracted driving led to the accidental death of someone else, could I still trust God's severe mercy in the prison sentence?  Could I still trust God's severe mercy in the anguish of knowing my poor choices had led to the death of someone else?   Could I sit in prison just as Paul did and REJOICE?  Could I write letters to others as Paul did and tell them to REJOICE, again I say REJOICE? (Philippians 1:18)

If I truly believe the words I wrote yesterday, the words that gave all credit and praise to the God who will make all things new (Rev. 21:5), who will work all things together for my good (Romans 8:28), who brings beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:3), then I have to be at peace with anything that happens. Whether it be prison, or rape, or loss of my children, or homelessness, or torture, or whatever other horrific thing my mind can think up, I have to believe that God will work those things together for my good.  That He is capable of working those things together for my good.  They may not be what He wanted, in fact He will cry real tears as He watches the suffering of this world that I have to endure, but He will look me in the eye and tell me, "I will make this new.  I will redeem this.  I will make something more beautiful than you can even fathom. Wait. Watch me. Trust me."  And because I have known His severe mercies before, because I have watched Him redeem so much of what is broken in my life, I will look back into His eyes and say, "I will."

It is certainly my hope and prayer that none of these atrocities become a part of my life, but I appreciate that God felt the need to ask me, "Did you really mean it? What you said in that post, did you mean it? Do you trust me?"  I'm thankful that He called me on my boldness, perhaps even my arrogance, to remind me, that this thing He has called me to isn't easy, in fact it might be excruciating. He forced me to ask if I was up for the challenge. He reminded me of what C.S. Lewis said: "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful that best will turn out to be." There is a pondering and a trepidation that comes with thinking about how much pain might lie ahead. But there is also a peace in knowing who I am walking into that future with; He forced me to look at the certainty of faith I have in Him. Jesus wasn't about to let me speak my words lightly, and so now I am reminded that I am choosing to believe in His severe mercies no matter how bleak my tomorrow is.  He who is promised is faithful.  He will redeem, He will make all things new.  And this, my friends, is true Hope.

A Severe Mercy

I recently finished the memoir A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. This book is many things; it is a love story, the tale of Davy and Sheldon and their Shining Barrier of love against the world.  It is a testimony of how each Davy and Sheldon came to know Jesus as their Savior.  It is a tragedy, guiding the reader through the journey of grief in the immense loss of a spouse. And it is a journal of correspondence between the author and C. S. Lewis, as each of them walked with the other through friendship and grief.  It is a beautiful book, and I keep telling everyone I know they should read it. But it is the title, the title alone, that has resonated over my heart this past week.

The title comes from a letter C.S. Lewis wrote to Vanauken shortly after Davy died.  Lewis is speaking of Sheldon and Davy's immense love for one another, a love that to the world seemed perfect, impenetrable.  This love, however, was rocked as each Davy and Sheldon became Christians.  Prior to their conversion they believed that whenever conflict arose they would Appeal to Love and decide which side of the coin was best for their love. Knowing Jesus changed that; the appeal was now to God, and Davy was comfortable with the change.  She was in love with her Redeemer and her devotion to Him was now the basis for all decision making, all life living.  Sheldon, no matter how deeply he loved Jesus, could not let go of Davy.  He wanted her for himself; he coveted her time, her attention, her devotion to the things he valued and cared for. He loved God, but he could not demote his love for Davy, and he grew bitter that she had demoted her love for him.  Most of this never came to a head while Davy lived, but she did pray and offer her life in exchange for Sheldon's faithfulness to shift from her to Jesus.  And her prayer was answered; a year and a half later she was gone and Sheldon found himself face to face with God.  Lewis points out to Vanauken what he could not see in himself:

 "'One way or another the thing had to die.  Perpetual spring-time is not allowed.  You were not cutting the wood of life according to the grain.  There are various possible ways in wh. it cd. have died tho' both parties went on living.  You have been treated with a severe mercy.  You have been brought to see (how true & how v. frequent this is!) that you were jealous of God. So from US you have been led back to US AND GOD; it remains to go on to GOD AND US. She was further on than you, and she can help you more where she now is than she could have done on earth.  You must go on...There's no other man, in such affliction as yours, to whom I'd dare write so plainly. And that, if you can believe me, is the strongest proof of my belief in you and love for you. To fools and weaklings one writes soft things. You spared her (v. wrongly) the pains of childbirth: do not evade your own, the travail you must undergo while Christ is being born in you.  Do you imagine she herself can now have any greater care about you than that this spiritual maternity of yours shd. be patiently suffered & joyfully delivered?'" (C.S. Lewis to Vanauken in A Severe Mercy).

A Severe Mercy.  Severe being strict or harsh, mercy being full of compassion and forgiveness.  How can these two co-exist?  They are an oxymoron of sorts.  How can we receive a harsh compassion? It was indeed severe, harsh, horrific, heart-rending to have Davy stolen away from Sheldon.  His companion, his best friend, his lover stolen from him after only 12 years together.  But if Vanauken really wanted Jesus, if He truly desired to be changed, to be transformed, to bend his knee to the King of Glory, he could not love Davy to the degree he did before.  She could no longer be his everything.  And as long as she lived, he was unable severe that love, to make the leap to GOD AND US.  And so with the greatest compassion and mercy, knowing the true longings of Sheldon's heart, Davy is taken home to be with Jesus.

I remember distinctly someone telling me after Hope died that I would someday be grateful for her death.  After such aching loss it seemed like such a bitter blow.  But six years later I sit here and I am grateful.  You see, in the months leading up to Hope's death, I was crippled by anxiety.  It had been a rough year and in an attempt to feel in control I began to obsess over everything, but specifically germs. I would bring a meal to a friend, washing my hands 40 times in the 40 minutes it took me to make the meal, and then I would sit by the phone and wait to make sure no one had gotten food poisoning.  I broke a jar in the school parking lot, and I searched for an hour for the tiny pieces of glass so that I might not be responsible for some student cutting their foot open.  My fear was paralyzing me. Enter a pregnancy where you worry about deli meat, unpasteurized cheese, caffeine and any substance consumed. I was going to keep this baby healthy if it killed me.  From the moment Hope died I knew with certainty I couldn't have done anything to change the outcome.  No crazy amounts of obsessive control could have kept her alive.  Losing my sweet girl was severe, it is still severe. (Sunday at church I started sobbing during a worship song as I remembered this baby who I never really got to know.)  And also her death was merciful.  God used her death to free me.  I hold my Josh and Izzy so loosely because I know that while I can control some things, these babies are entrusted to me but belong to God.  There is such FREEDOM in knowing I am not in control, and that is God's mercy in my life.

My most recent severe mercy came in our move to Phoenix.  This past week marks a year ago that our house sold in Tucson and the ball began rolling toward a move I did not want. I was leaving my very best friends, a home I loved, my dreams of what I envisioned my life to be.  To say I was heart-broken was an understatement.  This change was severe; I was angry with God.  How could He break me so?  Hadn't I been broken enough?  And yet, I had faith. I believed God had asked us to move and so I had to believe He had a reason.  This year has been amongst the hardest of my life.  Loneliness, parenting challenges, loneliness, discomfort, loneliness. But I have also seen God change Herb and me in ways I never could have imagined.  Herb has grown so much as a parent; he's grown in confidence, in creativity, in love.  He is pursuing God in new ways and surrounded by men who are challenging him to do so.  We are on mission and in ministry so much differently than we have ever been. I have found a community where I feel challenged to grow as a mom, as a student of the Word, as a wife, as a teacher.  God has placed me in a mission field I wouldn't have thought of in Tucson.  Izzy is going to a school that will offer her unique learning opportunities and life experiences.  Through our friendships here we found a sleep specialist who has revolutionized Josh's sleep; I have a confident, more healthy and exuberant little boy.  The short version of that is that I am so thankful we moved to Phoenix.  The harsh move, brought merciful renewal in our lives.

Hebrews 12:27-29 says: "And His voice shook the earth then, but now He has promised, saying, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth, but also the heaven.” This expression, “Yet once more,” denotes the removing of those things which can be shaken, as of created things, so that those things which cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore, since we receive a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us  show gratitude, by which we may offer to God an acceptable service with reverence and awe;  for our God is a consuming fire."

God shakes those things which we are dependent on, the ones we hold so closely to, the ones where we get our value and identity, the ones that give us our strength, and He shakes, and He shakes, and He shakes, until we let go.  It is severe; we love those things more than we can ever hope to articulate, but it is merciful because that "which cannot be shaken may remain."  God will shake away the strongholds we have so that we have no other choice but to hold on to Him who will always be, Him who will always love, Him who remains faithful until the end of time.

Six years ago I wrote about this same idea (All That Can Be Shaken).  Since then my experiences with severe mercies have grown; these severe mercies keep coming and deepening in severity.  I have lived through many severe mercies in my life, and I am so thankful to be able to name them as such.  Being able to look at your most painful moments and see how God was compassionate to you in those moments is not only a gift, it is evidence that your grief journey has worked it's way in and through you.  When you can see the purpose for the pain not only can you be grateful for it, but you can hunker down differently when the next wave of grief comes, for it will come.  Hebrews 12:28 is right, after all that can be shaken is shaken, we can come with gratitude and awe for we know that the consuming fire of our God has burned away that which is worthless and left the pure gold in its wake.

One more note: I love that C.S. Lewis says to Vanauken that he only speaks this truth to him because he loves and believes in him.  It is not an easy thing to hear that in God's severity there is somehow mercy.  When your heart aches you want to punch the person who tells you it's all for a reason.  As tears stream down your face and your grief is too much for you, you don't need to hear that someday you'll understand your loss.  Only the truest of friends, at the most God-ordained moments, should say these things to a grieving friend.  Most of the time the griever just needs someone to sit with them, cry with them, and grieve with them.  Someday, after the waves recede, there will be conversations of what God is and was doing.  But wait, wait for God to guide and move. Speak to a friend whose heart you know intimately.  And in the meanwhile, cry, for the severity in all of its goodness, hurts like hell.

"I Just Want to be Happy!"

"I just want to be happy!"

"I hope she makes you happy all the days of your life!"

"When this baby gets here, I will be so happy!"

There is an epidemic of happiness in our country today.  We stand in churches and listen to couples vow to make each other happy, we sit at graduations and listen to speakers tout the importance of finding a job that makes you happy, we buy things and plan activities that will make our kids happy, and we spend each and every day pursuing our own happiness and growing angry at those who thwart our attempts to be happy.  I can't point fingers and say "it's them!  They're the happiness pursuers! Let's get 'em!"  I am guilty in my own right, day in and day out, seeking to find activities that will make my kids happy enough and will allow me to be happy enough to survive our day.  I grow angry at my son when he doesn't nap and thereby takes away my ME time, my HAPPY time (which quite honestly usually involves folding laundry or cleaning some gross orifice in my house.)  But the ironic thing about this pursuit of happiness is that it leaves me feeling wholly UNHAPPY.

Josh has started sleeping through the night, as of one week ago.  This means that for 7 whole days I have gotten a decent night of sleep, a feat that hasn't happened in 4 years!  Believe me, the heavens opened, and there were great choruses of Hallelujahs in many realms!  But guess what--it hasn't changed my happiness level.  It has given me a greater ability to cope with the eccentricities of life that come at you with a spirited four and two year-old, but I don't feel happier, as I was certain I would.  I have been in the doldrums all week.  I have been trying to fill my week with things that make me happy, things that serve me.  I've spent time with lots of friends, I have done some reading, I listened to some good music, I spent time reading my Bible and praying.  And yet, I lacked happiness.

Then yesterday I listened to a Tim Keller sermon entitled "Mission".  It was a short, 38-minute sermon on the importance of mission. It wasn't what I was looking for. I wanted a sermon on contentment; I wanted to learn how to be okay with where I am; I wanted to stop idealizing where I could be.  But the sermon title stuck out to me and I clicked on it.  Within the first 5 minutes Keller addressed the very heart of my problem.

We, as humans, and even more so as Christians, were created to live life on a mission.  It's built into the very fiber of our being to want great adventure, to uproot the evil and overcome with good, to vanquish the enemy.  We see it written all over literature, in all of our favorite movies.  The world is in peril, it is threatened by great evil, but there is one who can save the world, make all of the difference.  This is the selfless hero!  He believes that there is a greater good, greater than his own life, and he is willing to take the chance, make the sacrifice, to achieve that healing, that greater good.  As I just finished Harry Potter, this specifically resonated with me.  Book 7 of the series is tied together with threads of selfless acts that inevitably bring salvation to the world; the reason Harry can defeat Voldemort is because he walks willingly to be sacrificed.  (I didn't catch that on my first reading, but it is remarkable that the same selflessness in Lily Potter's death that protected her son is then repeated in Harry creating a protection of those he loves!)  It is the selflessness, the realization that the mission is more important than me and my happiness.  We love it in stories, but we no longer live that way.

We live in a society that is designed around pleasing ourselves.  We are bombarded with images and advertisements insinuating that more stuff will make us happy, or a thinner body, or a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  We are consumed with achieving happiness. But the ironic thing is that the more we pursue our own happiness, the less happy we seem to be.  We grow discontent because there is more out there that we NEED to make us happy.  We have our eyes fixed on ourselves and we are blind to the thing that could truly allow us to find joy.

Thus far I have been speaking about this mission in a general sense.  And I do believe that in each person the pursuit of mission will generate some joy, far more than pursuing our own happiness.  But for me, the mission is very specific, very driven.  I have been called to imitate Christ; Christ who was sent into the world to reach out to the brokenhearted and show them the face of the Father.  I have been called to go on mission to bind up the brokenhearted, to reach out to the hurting, and to point everyone to the one who is able to bring healing, to bring hope.

I know this can be where non-Christians grow greatly uncomfortable with the idea of Christianity and our "need" to "convert" others to our faith.  But Keller addressed that very thing in his sermon, and his explanation really spoke to me.  He gave the analogy of a cancer patient who had a friend who was a survivor of cancer.  If the survivor knew THE doctor, the one who had the miracle treatment that would cure this horrific disease, out of love for his friend he would not stay silent.  He would feel compelled to tell his friend everything he knew; the survivor not only knew the agony of the disease, but he knew the cure.  How, if he loves his friend, could he not tell him?  This is the story of the Christian.  I know brokenness.  I am intimately acquainted with the horrors of this world.  I am also highly aware of my own fallen nature, the ways in which I have broken this world myself.  And I know the Healer, I know the one who comes down into the muck, who reaches out His hand, and who makes me see the glory in myself and the glory that is to come.  I KNOW this Healer, and I cannot keep silent about Him.  He is the magic weapon, the secret power, the ring; He is the One spoken of in legends long ago.  He is the hero of the story, and not only does He invite me to be His sidekick, I can't help but beg Him for the role.  I want in!  I know how the story ends and I want to be a part of bringing about the change!

I've known my desire to be on mission. Not that I feel called to stand on a street corner and proselytize, or go door to door telling people about Jesus, but I do want my every day goal to be relationships where I do get to share about my Savior.  I want to interact with people, to love them, and in the process to share what Jesus has done in and through me.  For me this has been one of the more difficult aspects for me of staying home with my kids: that I have minimal interaction with the outside world in general, but specifically with the broken world.  I try to find ways to break out, to interact with other moms, to be on mission, where I am, but I falter. I start and stop.  I feel lost on where to even begin.  But one thing I learned from the sermon is that mission is going to be uncomfortable, it is going to take me out of safety and into risk.  It is going to take me off of my couch and put me in the wilderness. And if I'm honest, that's what I want.  I'm tired of the couch; I'm weary of watching other people walk the wild journey in books and movies. The search for what will make me happy will only end in frustration if I am satisfied with playing it safe, with staying home and never venturing out, never meeting new people, never going new places and trying new things. I have to risk it all.  I have to believe that the cause, the mission of sharing how Jesus has changed my life, is greater than my own personal safety, metaphorically or literally.  It's time to start living my one word for this year; it's time for me to be brave.

The idea of mission is scary, but it's also exciting!  The idea of asking God to do big things that I know I can't do on my own is really quite awesome to think about!  I want to be on a journey that glorifies God; I want my life to be about that, I want my kids' life to be about that.  So it's time to get on my knees and pray and ask God to send me.  He will; He knows that the mission, the harrowing journey is worth it for the joy set before Him, and He would not deny me that joy!  He came that I might have life and have it abundantly.

I don't just want to be happy, I want to have joy, and I want others to have joy.  I don't want it to be about me any more; I want it to be about Him. My day to day, my moment to moment, defined by His purpose for me.  It's a paradigm shift, a huge one, to set aside my selfish desires and pursue something greater. And it is completely counter culture; there will be great opposition. But I know the hero AND I know He has already won!

So then my question is: how will my day be different tomorrow because I am on mission?  I don't know yet but  you'd better believe that's what I'll be asking Jesus tonight!

Mary Magdalene

Today's sermon was simply amazing. As I read once again about Mary Magdalene's encounter with Jesus after she found the empty tomb, I cannot help but cry reading her story. A woman possessed by 7 demons, and healed by the touch of a Savior, watches Him die. She stands at the cross watching this man who transformed her life, die a wretched death. Heartbroken and despairing she shows up at the tomb, teary eyed and weary, just wanting to do something, anything that will help her bear the grief--to anoint Jesus' broken body for burial. As she finds the tomb empty she weeps; even as the angels comfort her, she weeps; she cannot understand why He is gone. Finally, Jesus speaks to her, but she does not know it is Him. She's weary and longing for someone to just tell her where her Teacher has been taken. And with one word, her name, her eyes are opened. With one word, she knows with certainty that Jesus lives, that her despair will be no longer. She has gone from utter despair to complete Hope as Jesus speaks her name.

I know this kind of Hope. I know my Savior lives. And in the midst of the utter despair of losing a child, of giving birth to a little girl who would never take one breath, I had Hope, enough to give her that name. I have cried many tears for that sweet girl, but each tear was cried knowing, KNOWING, that this is not how it ends. Because Jesus lives, so do I, so does she. This day, this Easter, Jesus calls YOUR name, and offers YOU Hope. Easter is a day of joy, it is THE day of Hope. Let Him lift your despair and give you something, someONE to press into. "Now may the God of HOPE fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in HOPE by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Pain Gives You Feet

When you are walking through pain it is so so so hard to see what God is doing. But pain transforms and softens your heart if you allow it to. Pain gives you feet to press into the pain of others, to walk towards the hurting and not away. "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted" AND they shall be comforters. This is God's beautiful design for His people; it is how He gives beauty for ashes and strength for fear. I love this God who sees something beautiful in the midst of things that are so so so broken.

Idol Worship, Idle Worship

An Idol: something which you feel you would die if it were taken from you
~Tim Keller

"For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.  For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures." Romans 1:20-23

As all of my epiphanies stem from the words of other wise people, this new insight came from a sermon I listened to a few days ago by Tim Keller. It was entitled A World of Idols. His definition of idol, as mentioned above, shook me to my core.

I barely needed to think for three seconds before identifying my greatest idol--sleep. It was a passing thought in my mind as I continued to listen to the sermon, but this morning the truth resounded loudly in my ears as I arose at the early hour of 4:30 to be with one of my sleepless kiddos. I know no greater anger than that which comes from stolen sleep, which is just ridiculous as there are so many greater injustices in the world. I could name them all, and I often do as I am fighting with myself over my exaggerated emotions. This morning as I was laying with Josh stewing, just ranting in my head about the child he is and my great frustration with his sleeping patterns, grumbling about how impossible it is to survive much less thrive on this kind of sleep schedule, the words from Keller's sermon bulldozed me. I truly felt like I was going to die as a result of this thing taken away from me. I was screaming in my head that it was such an unrealistic expectation to believe I could live like this! Sleep is my idol.

I've known this for a while. In fact last Lenten season I gave up sleep, literally, in that I vowed to wake earlier than my kids every day to spend time with God. I was going to want God more than I wanted sleep; I was going to train my body and mind to believe that. And it worked, sort of. In the last year I have certainly become more accepting and less bitter about my sleepless nights. But I find that while I have long stretches of freedom from this idolatry, it all comes bubbling up again after a particularly long stretch of weariness.

Sleep is the idol of my mind. I think about when I'll get to sleep, how much I'll get, how I will get my kids to sleep, when they will be up again, when I'll be up again, how I will get my kids to sleep (oh did I already say that?!?) I think these things over and over and over. I obsess, I dwell, I certainly think about it as much, if not more, than I pray.  I have made sleep my god in many ways; I have let it rule my actions and control my thoughts. It is my first thought when I rise and my last when I lie down at night.




The problem with idols is that they stem from good things, things God designed for our fulfillment, joy and ultimately for His glory. In Romans 1:20 we see that creation was made to reveal His divine attributes, to reveal our glorious Lord.  And again in 1 Corinthians 10:26 we see that "the Earth is the Lord's and all it contains."  God made everything, and it was good.  Sleep is good; God designed it to rejuvenate our bodies and minds.  He created it to remind us that we need rest; that we must relinquish complete power and control of our world for one-third of our day to the one who is in control of everything.  It is a constant niggling in our mind that we must rest in Him.  But when the good things become the thing we most believe will bring us fulfillment or joy, when they become our focus or our goal, when our dreams of those good things become greater than the Creator of those good things, there we must take pause.  It is there that we find ourselves kneeling at the foot of a lesser god instead of kneeling at the foot of the cross.

So what do I do now that I know? I can't walk away from sleep. I can't throw this idol in the garbage can or move away from it. What do we do with idols that we must conquer, day in and day out? I don't think there are easy answers, but I do think I must take my thoughts captive. 2 Corinthians 10:5 exhorts us in this practice, "We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ." If I am going to destroy these thoughts that are standing me against the risen Lord, I need to be aware of these thought patterns. And then I need to name them. I need to call it idolatry; giving it that name already moves me to a new frame of mind. As I take each thought captive, Jesus helps me to understand exactly what it is I am dealing with. "And we know that the Son of God has come, and has given us understanding so that we may know Him who is true; and we are in Him who is true, in His Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life.  Little children, guard yourselves from idols" (1 John 5:20-21).  That which is true, Jesus, is juxtaposed with that which is untrue, idols. Acknowledging the one true God enables us to guard ourselves from idols.  If I can call out those thoughts of idolatry as false joy-givers and name Jesus as the only joy-giver, I can move towards freedom from this idol. I need to make Jesus my God. I need to recognize that He should be where I place my thoughts, my time, my attention. I need to kneel at the feet of the One who can give me great strength beyond myself, the One who can stand in the gap of my sleeplessness. He is able, and I need to believe that. I need to have faith that He is stronger and more capable than sleep could ever be! Because idols are false gods, weaker gods. Idols cannot do what we know our God can do. So why would we place our hope in anything less than He would die for our sins?

This is a battle ground.  To replace things that are first and foremost in our minds with something else is a moment by moment battle. I will wage the war all day long and probably all night long; I will continually have to flee from idolatry (1 Corinthians 10:14).  And each night, and each morning, I will have to give myself over to the God who is more powerful than my sleeplessness, to the God who will walk with me and give me strength, and honestly to the God who created coffee.  Coffee is one of His good gifts, it points me back to Him.  I can do all things through Christ who stands in my gaps and provides the strength to serve my kids day in and day out, whether I've gotten 3 hours of sleep or 8.  Christ is enough for me.  May He be the center of my life, and the place I fix my eyes. Amen.