Thursday, June 30, 2016

My Stay At Home Mom Calling



It’s always been a struggle for me to embrace this stay at home mom gig as a calling.  Other women would tell me that in this season, these children are my ministry. It is my job, my calling, my mission field to love and serve my kids day in and day out.  These words of encouragement would pour out of the mouths of all sorts of people, and in my mind I would think, “that’s just something people say to encourage the mom who cannot get it together enough to serve in the real mission field.”

I would search out scriptures to support their proverbs.  I would scour Christian mommy books and blogs in search of passages that would support this “home as the mission field” mantra.  Even Proverbs 31, THE ultimate woman’s passage in scripture, reveals a mother and wife working hard out in the real world, reaching the poor, starting a business, a pillar of the community. Gosh, where did she find the time? Her kids must have actually slept at naps and nighttime, unlike some children I know.

And so I have languished in this in between place, the place of longing to be something more, to do something more, to really impact the world for Jesus. I hadn’t completely checked out of my mission field of two, but I also felt a listlessness as I folded socks again, cleaned up pee from the floor again, and broke up the one millionth fight of the day.

But this summer I began to pray a new and different prayer. I’m not sure exactly what inspired it, a book, a podcast perhaps, or just the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. I would wake up each day and pray, “God let my heart attitude be that I don’t have to play with my kids today, I get to play with them. Amen.” That was it. Simple and sweet. Change my perspective, change my heart. Help me to see my children not as a burden, but as a blessing. Teach me to delight and not dwell. Move me from the place of selfishness to one of selflessness. Help me Jesus, I want this!

As no surprise to anyone, as I prayed this prayer, the circumstances with my kids got harder. More fights. More tantrums. Bigger, harder words falling from Izzy’s mouth. Tougher spiritual conversations. More moments of me desperate on my knees asking Jesus what on earth to say next, or begging Him to bridle my tongue so that I wouldn’t say all of the awful, hurtful things I was thinking. And yet, each morning I would rise and pray once again, “God let my heart attitude be that I don’t have to play with my kids today, I get to play with them. Amen.”

What did happen as I prayed this prayer was that I began to cherish the moments a bit more. I set down my phone and could find myself laughing, smiling, enjoying without the need to capture it on my camera and send it to 10 of my closest friends. I caught myself whispering to God, “did you hear what Josh just said? I love when he quotes things from his favorites shows!” I stopped myself from grumbling about the spilled cup of paint water, and remembered that it wasn’t that long ago that she couldn’t paint these vibrant pictures at all. I had more glimmers of joy, more moments of gratitude.

God was softening my heart, He was laying the groundwork for His crescendo, His climax, the revelation He’s been so patiently waiting to teach me. Monday I opened 1 Peter 5 and read these words:

“Therefore, I exhort the elders among you, as your fellow elder and witness of the sufferings of Christ, and a partaker also of the glory that is to be revealed, shepherd the flock of God among you, exercising oversight not under compulsion, but voluntarily, according to the will of God; and not for sordid gain, but with eagerness; nor yet as lording it over those allotted to your charge, but proving to be examples to the flock.

And God opened my eyes. I am not an elder in the church, but I am an elder in my home. I may not have a congregation, but I have a flock. God has entrusted me with two sweet tender lambs, and He has given me charge over them.

I love the language of this passage, the language of the calling: not under compulsion, but voluntarily. Not for sordid gain, but with eagerness. Not lording it over your charge, but proving to be examples. Is this how I love my children? Do I love them, serve them, minister to them out of compulsion because I have to? Because that’s my job? Or do I honor them willingly? Do I cherish them, pursue their good, encourage them for my own personal gain, cursing them when they ruin my image as the perfect mother? Or is there an eagerness in my heart for their good, for their finished, pure hearts who long after Jesus? Do I lord my authority over them as one who knows what’s good for them if only they’d listen? Or do I remember my own brokenness and need of a Savior and show them time and again what repentance and forgiveness looks like?

These are high callings, and Peter knows they are. As Peter writes I can just imagine his mind wandering back to when these words were first uttered, one of his last encounters with the Savior. They are having breakfast and Jesus puts Peter on the spot:

“So when they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love Me more than these?’ He said to Him, ‘Yes, Lord; You know that I love You.’ He said to him, ‘Tend My lambs.’ He said to him again a second time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love Me?’ He said to Him, ‘Yes, Lord; You know that I love You.’ He said to him, ‘Shepherd My sheep.’ He said to him the third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love Me?’ Peter was grieved because He said to him the third time, ‘Do you love Me?’ And he said to Him, ‘Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Tend My sheep.’”

If we love Jesus, we will tend His sheep. As I poured over this passage after reading 1 Peter 5, I sat with the weight of Jesus’ calling. I get Peter here. I know what it feels like to say to Jesus, “Lord, you know I love you,” and to have Him ask me again. Peter turned his back on Jesus three times the night He was crucified. I don’t then think it’s a coincidence that Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him. How many times have I said with my mouth that I love the Lord, and then turned the other way and betrayed Him? Far more than three, that’s to be certain. And yet, I just love Peter’s response after being asked that wounding third time; “You know all things; You know that I love You.”

Jesus knows, He knows that I love Him in my meager, tiny offering ways. He knows that I do long to serve and honor Him with my life. He knows that in my grumbling that my ministry of two was too small, my real heart was to change the entire world for His glory. But His response to Peter, and to my, desire to love Him well, is this alone—tend my sheep. That’s what He wants from me. That’s the calling.

So I now find myself repeating new words every day.
“Katie, daughter of Keith, do you love me?”
“You know I do Lord.”
“Then tend my sheep.”

That is my calling.  That is where He needs me to be. Perhaps He has me tending to two hearts to prepare me to tend to 2,000. Maybe He needs me to tend to two hearts, so He can do a mighty overhaul on my one. But one thing is for certain, Izzy and Josh are His lambs. He created them, He loves them, He knows them, and they need an earthly shepherd to point them toward the Heavenly one.

And so may I shepherd my children not under compulsion but voluntarily and with willingness, not for any selfish gain. I've been trying to embody these words--willing and eager. May I serve my kids, love them and pour truth into their little hearts with eagerness and willingness knowing that this is what Jesus instructed Peter to do, and this is what He has for me.

You see it isn’t so much about “this season”, it is about tending the sheep in front of me. It is about believing that Jesus will lead sheep to my pasture when they need tending, and that my job is to respond with willingness and eagerness to each and every one. May I rejoice in every lost sheep found, and may I delight in the tender calling of the Shepherd to tend His sheep.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

"I'm ready to rock in the rocking chair"

Last night Josh woke with some sort of fear, maybe a nightmare, and as I walked into his room he said, "I'm ready to rock in the rocking chair." As I was rocking him, praying for him, comforting him, the verse I had been studying earlier that day came to mind. "Casting all your anxiety upon Him, for He cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7 And I started to cry. This calling out, "I'm ready to sit in the rocking chair" was Josh casting his anxiety upon me, so easily, so willingly. Not once did he hesitate and wonder if I would come, if I would care. His history with a loving mother drives him to trust that I will come to him, I will take his anxiety and worry, and I will be with him. This rocking in the chair, this patting and soothing and snuggling, this is because I care for him, so deeply, so intimately. This middle of the night rocking is 1 Peter 5:7 in motion, living and breathing. I'm so grateful for the parent/child relationship God gives us to better understand our own relationship with Him. What a gift to see His love for us tangibly lived out in smaller ways in our own hearts! What a joy to rock away Josh's anxiety and lay him peacefully back down in his crib because I care for him. What a motivation to cast my anxiety upon the One who cares for me. History has shown, He will come 💜

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Coffee

You're intrigued right?!? A blog post about one of your favorite subjects. The liqueur of the gods.  The substance by which you pull yourself into coherence every morning. The beautiful gift of warmth and goodness in the chaos of your day. The boost of joy that comes from driving thru your very favorite coffee joint and sipping on that drink made just for you.  One of my favorite quotes from You've Got Mail sums it up quite well:

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino." -Joe Fox

Here's the thing: I gave up coffee for Lent. (GASP) Either you are shocked that I would do such a thing, or you're shocked that I shared what I gave up for Lent (after all isn't that supposed to be between me and God?), but there's shock nonetheless.  I don't share this with you to brag about my holiness, but rather this post is about the realization of my complete and utter failures to walk with Jesus in this Lenten season.

My choice to go off of coffee wasn't an idea that had been brewing for a while (hehe I'm full of coffee jokes, watch out!), but rather it came after the flu hit our family.  Being off of coffee for 3 days was quite the shock to my system. Outrageous headaches that left me unable to open my eyes helped me figuratively open my eyes to see just how dependent my body was on this substance.  Me, being the strong-willed person that I am (don't remind me of this when I'm lamenting the strong will of my children...), decided that I would not be beholden to anything!  I would give up coffee for Lent and show coffee who is boss! (Because that's what Lent is all about right?!? That's the spirit of humility Katie!)

So I stayed off of coffee. And it was hard. I mean really hard.  I was completely and totally exhausted every day. The first Sunday after I gave up the good stuff I could barely keep my eyes open in church.  But I had committed to this. I was going to muscle through. And so I pushed on. Day after day getting up, trudging through the day, surviving until nap time, trudging some more and going to bed at 8 o'clock every night. "This is ridiculous," I thought. There is no way I was this addicted to coffee.  But oh, I was. I mean, I would day dream about going to Starbucks. I would lay in bed in the morning and imagine how much better my life would be if I could just get up and go fill my mug with delicious coffee. I'm a little horrified at how my soul longed for this, and how much I wanted to give up.

With Lenten sacrifices I haven't ever really felt tempted to give up.  I've missed the things I had given up, but I had never really considered giving in. I talked with my most trusted friends, and they could see the merits in giving up. I was a mom of young kids, this is a hard season, coffee is a tool God supplies us with to survive this season.  These things are all valid and true. Another piece for me was the argument against legalism. Was I just trying to follow through on my fast to prove something to myself? To prove something to God? Or was this truly drawing me to God? Reminding me of the greatest sacrifice He made for me?  I would recite a verse from Psalm 63, "The steadfast love of the Lord is better than life..." over and over again, but it wouldn't help. Then I would beat myself up that I didn't love God enough to be willing to give up this small, insignificant thing for Him. Legalism at its finest.

And then I got diagnosed with pneumonia. I have never known sickness or exhaustion like that. I truly could not get out of bed to make a cup of tea without becoming fatigued. It took everything in me to get out of bed to get Izzy dressed and brush her hair before climbing back onto the couch to nap. I began to wonder if I needed to be off of caffeine so I could truly know how sick I was. Maybe if I had been drinking coffee I would not have been able to discern the signs and symptoms of my illness as well. Or maybe I was just plain fool for not relying on coffee to pull me through. I mean, God gave us this gift, why not use it?  But I was determined. I could do this.

I'm finally resurfacing from the pneumonia haze, and yesterday Izzy was sick and up half the night.  That was it! It really felt like my breaking point. I pulled out my phone at 6 am yesterday to ask my mom to bring me a nice grande coffee from Starbucks, but I stopped myself. And I prayed, "God give me the strength I need to get through this day. You are able to strengthen me, even without coffee. You are the Giver of strength." There it was, there was the missing link through this Lenten season. I was SO determined that I could do this on my own. My will was strong enough. My self-discipline great enough. But I am not. I am not strong enough to face my day without God.  Coffee is a crutch, an illusion of strength and power for me. If I can keep myself up and going for long enough, I can do enough things, and be enough, and love enough and serve enough, and then I will be enough for everyone.  But I am not enough. I'm not. And saying that makes me feel free!  I was convinced that I was weak for being unable to handle life without coffee, but the truth is that I am weak. I need to know I am weak. I'm not superhuman, and while I could drink a legal addictive stimulant and try to convince myself that I am, when it is ripped away, I will be weak as I always have been.

We don't like to admit weakness in our culture. It's a sign of failure, of not applying ourselves enough. But our faith in God is predicated on our weakness.  Without knowing how limited and weak we are, we are unable to understand our need for a Savior. Without seeing our inability to handle life, to raise good kids, to be hard-working employees, to be loving spouses, to live outside of our own selfish desires, we can't understand how Jesus' sacrifice really is everything to us. The words to Jesus Loves Me flood to mind, "they are weak but He is strong. Yes Jesus loves me." He loves us so much that He gives us His strength. He gifts it to us over and over again. When we can see our weakness, we can fall on our knees and ask for His strength.  And that is what Lent is all about--reminding us of our need for a Savior.

I needed to remove coffee from my life so I could see just how dependent I was on it. It's scary to think about my thoughts and responses to not having coffee in my life, thoughts I really think are akin to how those who remove other addictive substances from their life like alcohol and drugs. I had made coffee an idol, coming to it day after day, asking it to be enough to sustain me.  But just like every idol, it wasn't enough. Only Christ alone can sustain, only He can satisfy. I think I will be returning to a life of coffee ten days from now, but I hope it will be with a different mindset, and with a clear perspective on where I need to go for comfort and strength day after day.

I'm so thankful that I serve a God who loves me enough to knock me off my feet, onto my knees, so that I can look up into His face and once again know I am His beloved. And I'm thankful that I can face my day to day with the strength He provides (1 Peter 4:11). I can do all things through Him. Amen.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

The Gospel According to Thomas the Tank Engine

I was talking with my pastor a few months ago about Josh's obsession with Thomas the Tank Engine. He remarked that the gospel according to Thomas was so screwed up. "Sir Topham only values the engines based on how really useful they are."

Herb and I have been joking about this ever since because Pastor Scott was so spot on. Thomas will say things like, "I may be really stinky, but at least I'm really useful." Or "I'm sorry Sir, I was so busy having fun splashing that I forgot I needed to be really useful." Sir Topham Hatt's highest compliment is that the train had been really useful.

The thing is that as I've been laying on the couch down with pneumonia I realize that this isn't just the gospel according to Thomas, it really is also the gospel according to Katie. I have been useless these last weeks, truly. Unable to transport kids, cook dinner, play, make decent conversation, do laundry, clean my house. I have not been really useful. And the truth of the matter is, this makes me feel really worthless. For if I cannot DO anything, what am I worth? If I cannot contribute to this world, then I am nothing.

But this is NOT the gospel according to Jesus. Jesus came to do the work of salvation on my behalf. God has always been the initiator of relationship with His people, the teacher of the truth to our hearts. It is not our own work, our seemingly really useful contributions to the kingdom, but the work Christ did on the cross that brings us into adoption as sons and daughters. Paul says in Galatians, "Therefore the Law has become our tutor to lead us to Christ, so that we may be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a tutor. For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's descendants, heirs according to promise.” (Galatians 3:24-29 NASB) It is not the Law, not our actions that make us heirs to the promise. It is our faith in the One who promised. And it is through God's promise to Abraham to redeem and save His people that we are able to rest knowing that God is the one who wills and works according to what He has set out to do from the beginning of time. It is He who gives mercy freely and it is He who reconciles us to Himself. “For this is the word of promise: 'AT THIS TIME I WILL COME, AND SARAH SHALL HAVE A SON.' And not only this, but there was Rebekah also, when she had conceived twins by one man, our father Isaac; for though the twins were not yet born and had not done anything good or bad, so that God's purpose according to His choice would stand, not because of works but because of Him who calls, it was said to her, 'THE OLDER WILL SERVE THE YOUNGER'...So then it does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy.” (Romans 9:9-12, 16 NASB)

Isn't that a remarkable truth?!? Even before Jacob and Esau were born, even before they had done good or bad, God set forth His promise! Before any work could be done, God had called them to Himself; He had designed them for relationship and intimacy with Him!
It is such a relief to know that we can be completely useless, we can be doing nothing, and God calls us out of darkness, sets mercy upon us and moves us toward Him. It is not about works and if we adequately serve the kingdom. Instead it is about our faith and if we are willing to cling to His promise and draw near to Him as He calls us.

I'm quite thankful the Island of Sodor is not the kingdom of God. I'm thankful that God isn't watching and weighing each task I do and assigning value to me accordingly. I'm so grateful that Jesus already did all the really useful work, that all I have to do is trust in Him to be given words of approval and affirmation. I'm thankful that under God's mercy I can say, "I might not be really useful, but I'm really forgiven and really loved." Ah to be an engine in the Kingdom of God!

Thursday, October 29, 2015

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

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

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.

Friday, August 14, 2015

"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.