Learning to Sail

I don’t have a thing. I wish I had a thing. I have one friend who teaches piano, one who teaches kindergarten, another who is passionate about coaching really anything, another who is a nurse, one who sells real estate, and the list could go on and on. Everyone has a thing. Well, most people have a thing. I don’t have a thing.

I’m good at lots of things! Give me a task, I’ll pull it off efficiently, in a timely manner, and with excellence. I’m excellent at making decisions for other people, managing calendars, scheduling appointments. I’m decently artistic making me a talented imitator of art, but I’m not an idea generator. I dream, but I don’t vision cast for myself or others. I’m a rule follower, and the best Number 2 person you can have by your side. But I need a strong leader to tell me what to do, to point me in a direction, to give me a goal. I can get you from point A to point B, but I need someone else to show me what point A and B are.

This made me an excellent student. Not because I was wicked smart, but because I knew how to read teachers and perform to give them what they wanted. I read people, rooms, body language, and emotions like a book. But I went to college to be a teacher, and then I was a teacher, and I found out I didn’t like being the one in charge. There was a season I thought that’s who I was. In the absence of a strong leader, I will morph to become a strong leader, and I think other people saw that in me too. They praised and encouraged my leadership skills. So, I got a degree putting me in charge of a classroom, and I hated every second of it. I loved the students and hated the job. Leading gave me anxiety.

Who I am at my core is a loyal follower. I crave the ability to be part of something bigger than myself. I desire to be the right-hand man to the man influencing the world for greater things. I truly desire to be the support person who makes someone else look their best. That’s the role where I shine and where I feel most fulfilled.

For 15 years now, I’ve been doing this for my kids. I’ve been partners in life with my husband for 21. I’ve been the administrative-assistant-of-the-year for my family as a stay-at-home mom. And I’ve loved every minute. If from the outside you think our family is a well-oiled machine, it’s because that’s my God-given gifting. It’s not everyone’s gifting, so don’t compare.  

Now, at this stage of life with two teenagers I’ve almost worked myself out of a job. I’m in this wonky in-between season where they don’t need me as much or in the ways they use to, but they still really need me present. I could go to work as an administrative assistant in a heartbeat and probably love my job, but in my thirties, the Lord spent a decade teaching me about how He knit me together (Psalm 139:13-14). When I do things, I do them well. Learning to do things halfway or partially has actually been a growth point in my life because sometimes just wiping the counter down is ok. Disinfecting the baseboards and scrubbing every cabinet face is not always necessary. There’s room in life for grace. And that’s excellent growth, balance, and boundaries for my own kitchen, but if it was your kitchen, I want it to sparkle! I want you to love it. I want you to feel you’ve been blessed and served above and beyond after I clean your kitchen (Matthew 5:14, Colossians 3:23).

The Lord knows and has taught me if I go to work all day and serve others above and beyond, my family will get the leftovers of me, not the best of me. My desire is to finish this season of parenting strong and give my kids the best of me while they still live in my home. I know not every mother has this privilege, choice, or desire.  That’s ok. But I do, and I’m only responsible for this one life God has given me, and the story He wants me to live to tell.

So, I stay home, but remember?  I’ve just about worked myself out of a job. The house is clean because the kids pick up after themselves. There’re no playdates to plan because they now have their own friends and plan their own fun. There’s not as many trips to plan because our weekends are spent attending games for sports and serving at church. I just made a major move across the country, so my people aren’t accessible to hang. I’m in this weird, awkward space of waking up every day not knowing what I will accomplish of value while my kids are at school and my husband at work. I find myself completely dependent on the Lord to tell me what to do, to fill my mind, to fill my time, to fill my heart. I’m pleading with Him constantly to make my days significant.

And in typing that very last sentence, I realize…this is exactly where He wants me to be.

He’s teaching me how to be completely dependent on Him (Proverbs 3:5-6). He’s showing me how loudly He can speak in the silence. He’s showing me how physically present He can be in my solitude. He’s showing me how to talk unceasingly to Him because He’s the only One available all day long to listen (1 Thessalonians 5:17). My devotion this morning reminded me being with God is more important than doing for Him. That’s a powerful, counter-cultural idea. Our world is driven by achievement. American capitalism is defined by work and making things happen for yourself. As a human race, we have a deep-seated need to be known, seen, and loved, and the best way we’ve come up with how to make it happen for ourselves is to accomplish, to contribute, to do…things.

And yet, God just wants to be with us. He sent His only Son to be with us, to be one of us. He set out to save us from being without Him because our sin eternally separates us from a holy God. I think what God wants, what He knows is best for us, what He knows we really need, is for us to be with Him. To exist with Him. To breathe breath that is Him. To think thoughts that are His kind of thoughts. (Matthew 1:22-23, Isaiah 59:2, Romans 3:23, 6:23, Acts 17:28, Job 33:4, Philippians 4:8)

Yes, I believe He knows doing is good for us. He was the first to gift the purpose of work in the Garden of Eden when He gave Adam the job of naming all the animals. Work was originally a gift from God, and my guess is it was originally accomplished with God. I imagine Adam and God walking together through the garden, stopping when they found a new creature to discourse on ideas for a name. Maybe they laughed together at funny sounding words. Maybe they marveled together over a specific, created trait. Maybe God taught Adam a fact about the animal He created, then based on that new information, Adam named the animal. I don’t know! But I don’t think Adam acted (worked) to be known, seen, and loved by God. He was already all of those things.

So maybe that’s what this quiet season of space is for me too. Maybe the noise of the world has to be stopped. Maybe the addiction to doing has to be broken.

Our pastor talked on Sunday about the difference between row-boating and sailing. My giftings make me an excellent row boater. Remember what I said about getting from point A to point B? I’m not in a season where anyone is giving me a point A and a point B. I’m in a season where God is asking me to raise the sails of my faith and trust Him to fill the space provided with the wind of His Spirit. Quite frankly, these row-boating arms are antsy to get back to work, but my row-boating body is SO. TIRED. All the time.

So, I’m learning to raise my sails in silence, worship, meditation, solitude, revelry, wonder, gratitude, and waiting. Wait for the breath of the Almighty to give me life (Job 33:4). Wait for Him to fill me up to move with Him. To move because of Him (Acts 17:28). And because I trust Him, I will wait expectantly with hope. I will smile as the sun rises and sets knowing I am completely known, seen, and loved by a God who knows, sees, and loves me exactly where I am, and when He wants me to move, He will send the wind (John 3:8).

I still wish I had a thing. I guess the one thing I’m passionate about all the time is Jesus. I really do want Jesus to be everyone’s thing. So, if Jesus is my thing, I guess being with Him as much as I am currently is actually exactly the thing I want. Funny how God gives us the desires of our heart, but we don’t realize it because we often don’t even know the own desires of our own hearts.

This stay-at-home mom is raising her white sails of surrender to sit and wait for God to fill and move her where her Thing will take her next. I’m learning how to give up the oars to my rowboat and take a seat on the sailboat.

You know, it’s peaceful sitting in the sun on a sailboat.

A Peek Inside An Anxious Mind

I’ve been seeing a counselor now for years, five to be exact. At the beginning it was once a week, and then as the tools in my mental tool belt increased, I was able to drop to once a month. Here’s the thing though, I am not cured of my depression. It goes into remission. Good habits and the power of a daily relationship with Jesus Christ keep it in check, but I live with the ability to be easily triggered. Much like an alcoholic is forever an alcoholic and makes lifelong choices to stay sober and not drink, a person who struggles with depression must daily make choices to stay in the light, choosing joy and peace rather than anxious or sad thoughts.

But I wish my drink of choice were more physical, staring me in the face with a physical temptation. Instead, my poison is thoughts—trains of thoughts, tirades of thoughts, spirals of thoughts—into deep, dark places. Thoughts that run rampant in the background of my subconscious where they do their damage unseen and unchecked for longer periods of time than I would like.

Let me see if I can explain….

In the summer my teenagers sleep late, I love this because I like to sleep late. It gives me a chance to really dive into my Bible study or get an early start on the chores of the day before the house gets loud with activity. If I get up and spend time in God’s Word, my thoughts are more ordered, more calm, more centered. So yesterday started off well!

By 11am everyone was up and moving, and we had a plan for an adventure exploring the Beltline in Atlanta on our bikes. On the drive down, I reminded my kids they didn’t need to be on their phones in the car, but in my brain, my thoughts were disappointed:

Why do they want to be on those stupid phones all the time? They just woke up! They know they’re not allowed to be on them in the car. I’m terrible at holding them accountable to that rule. That’s my fault.

Now that the kids are off their phones, the silence in the car overwhelms me.

Why can’t I think of anything to talk to them about? I’m terrible at conversation. This feels so awkward. They don’t want to talk to me about anything anyway. But you’re teaching them how to have conversation. You’re setting the example for them to follow. If they don’t know how to carry on a conversation in the car, that’s your fault.

We finally find our parking space and start our bike ride. It’s an overcast, slightly humid day, but I’m grateful the sun isn’t shining, or we’d be twice as hot. The ride is pretty in spots, full of lush underbrush overhanging the trail. We pass under bridges covered from head to toe in graffiti. I’m enjoying myself when it dawns on me:

This isn’t a very good way to interact with my kids. They’re basically up in front of me by themselves this whole time doing their own thing. How is this bonding us as a family? How does this open doors to conversations?

And so, the onslaught of thoughts continues ALL. DAY. In reflection, I continued to judge and criticize myself and my actions as a mother the remainder of the day. At lunch I was at a loss for communication again, by the afternoon we were all so tired from our adventure we came home and retired to our separate corners on our separate devices. Dinner was good because when my husband’s around, he’s better at getting us all to talk. He’s a better communicator. But when he and my son leave to head out of town, and I’m left alone with my daughter, again, she wants to text friends and watch movies, and I want to take a bath and watch movies, and so the day ends. All the while, I’m beating myself up in retrospect about how her and I have nothing in common to help us connect together. I end the day feeling like a waste of a human being, incapable of connecting with her own children, and beating myself up for hiding behind my screen instead of engaging in the life inside my house. I go to bed drunk on anxious, critical, depressing thoughts.

Jesus. Sweet Jesus.

I wake in the morning in need of lots of water to flush my system and my time with Jesus to flush my spirit.

It takes energy and commitment to let go of yesterday and all its failures, so I can try again today. Walk differently today. Make different choices with my thoughts and actions, but sometimes the day stretches before you like a barren wasteland of hopeless, unavoidable failures waiting to happen. I mean, that was what happened yesterday? Logically, it can happen again today as well.

Jesus! Help!

….

This is the life inside my head. One small peek. I can think like this on a myriad of topics throughout the day. On the worst days, it feels like I am being beaten constantly. Those are the days I don’t want to crawl out of bed because the thoughts can start that early, even in my dreams before I ever wake up. Those are the days I convince myself the world is better off if I don’t show my face today. There are plenty of people who do not face this struggle, who are never aware of their own thoughts, and if they are, their personalities allow them to “snap out of it” as so many of us are encouraged to do.

If you were being physically beaten, would you want someone to walk up to you and tell you to snap out of it? (Just offering some perspective.) What would you want them to do? Step in. Offer help to block the attacker. Offer you a safe space. A way out. People who commit suicide are looking for a way out. They are tired of being beaten. Like most diseases or conditions, depression exists on a scale of 1-10 or stages like cancer. If you suffer from stage 4 depression, suicide is one of your treatment options. That’s the level of mental beating that person has taken.

And much like cancer, you don’t need to experience it to have compassion for those who suffer. You don’t even need to understand how or why their brain thinks the way it does, to be able to come alongside and offer support and a safe space. The stigma surrounding mental illness must end. I am as passionate about that statement as I am about treatment.

I have Jesus. He is literally my daily Savior. He is my first line of treatment. (1 Timothy 1:15, Acts 4:10, 1 Timothy 4:10)

I know I need His power and presence in every breath I take just to be able to take thoughts captive and gain victory over the darkness (Job 33:4, 2 Corinthians 10:5). The more mature in my faith I grow to be, the less energy this requires, but I’m not great at it yet. His Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path (Psalm 119:105). I literally have His promises plastered all over my house. I like to think I’ve done that for my kids, but I read them all, every day, at every turn in my home (Deuteronomy 6:9, 11:20). On my best days, I’m blasting praise and worship music into the silence of my home, drowning the sound of my own thoughts with truth. My counselor is right. The way I think about myself, judge, criticize, evaluate, analyze myself has to stop. It has to change.

I have Jesus, a supportive husband, Prozac, friends who gently hold me accountable and encourage along the way, a family who loves me unconditionally, and insurance that covers mental health 100%. I have everything a person needs to fight and overcome depression, and it is STILL a daily battle. The wins outnumber the losses little by little as the Lord continues to do His work of sanctification through my life, but the losses are heavy and hard.

Someone you know doesn’t have the same support and privileges I have been afforded in my fight with depression. Someone you know doesn’t have any of these supports at all, not even Jesus. It’s why giving this world Jesus is the most compassionate and life-saving effort a person can devote their lives to (2 Corinthians 5:20). Jesus is enough. Even without all the other supports, He would be enough to sustain, to keep me from wanting to leave this earth because He breathes life into His children (Acts 17:25, Job 34:14-15).

I struggle because as a believer who has been afforded the privileges of all my supports, I think I should only need Jesus too. I shouldn’t have to rely on medicine, counseling, etc. But the reality and truth is… this is the journey God has ordained for me and my life. The woman struggling with depression in Africa may only be given Jesus at some point in time, and He will be all she needs, and that’s all she’ll ever be given, and He will be enough.

He is enough for me too. Period. I know this. There have been seasons when He was all I had, and He was enough. Yet, He is also the Father who gives good gifts. Why some are afforded certain good gifts and others are not is one of the great mysteries of being God. He knows me best; therefore, He knows what’s best for me.

My Jesus knows humility is essential to real life. He was the humblest of us all (Philippians 2:5-8). Medicine and counseling keep me humble. Without it, my pride, my own natural strengths, and my own intellect power me through my days. Humility is a necessary piece of the puzzle. We cannot be fully dependent on the Lord if pride is present at all (James 4:10).

It has been my observation of God’s kingdom that all of His children are given something to humble them—a thorn in the flesh as Paul puts it (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). For some it is their marriage, their life circumstances, their health, their finances, their station, their job, their friendships, their family, their children, their losses—the list is unending as to what God can use and how He can give the gift of humility to His children. These are all crosses we bear for the sake of Christ. We take them up and we follow Him regardless, dying to ourselves every day (Luke 9:23, 14:27). This is what it means to be a Christian, a child of God—grateful surrender to the cross that keeps us humble, knowing it’s a good gift from a Good Father who’s saving us from ourselves. Every day. Our pride is sin, and our sin is death (Romans 6:23). There’s no other answer to pride, but humility.

So today I will be grateful for the cross I bear. The depression I battle. I will reframe it with new purpose and lean into my Jesus and His good gifts—the gift of medicine, the gift of counseling, the gift of gratefulness, the gift of humility, the gift of His presence, the gift of salvation. Today He will be enough. That is my choice.

Who do you know struggling with anxiety? Depression? Who feels overwhelmed by life? You do not have to understand the cross they carry to be able to cheer them on along their path. Send that encouraging text. Mail that gift. Don’t be afraid to place a hand on their shoulder. To drop off that meal. Show up. Be present. Be available. Cover them in the protection of your prayers. Bend the Father’s ear to their plight with your incessant interceding on their behalf. Don’t throw your hands up in the air because the enemy has paralyzed you with lack of understanding or empathy. Seek understanding (Proverbs 2:2-5).

My daughter asked me the other day why I struggle with depression. I didn’t have a good answer for her because I live a blessed life. I could only tell her the condemning voices inside my head are loud and constant, and I need help to silence them. When the condemning voices are silenced, I hear the Voice of the Spirit clearly Who is the source of my joy, creativity, sensitivity, empathy, compassion, and purpose. Hearing voices is both one of my greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses. It’s how God put me together. It’s my cross to bear. By God’s grace, these condemning voices are not my daughter’s struggle, but maybe I can teach her how to show love to someone who struggles differently than her. Maybe teaching that alone to one more person in this world is a far-reaching ripple in the ocean of eternity.

What I do want her to know is Jesus is my Rock, my Answer, my Support. Following His lead is my best treatment plan. Healing and wholeness can only be realized through His power alone.

“Thank You, Father, for the gift of humility that enables me to fully rely on You. Thank You for the gift of humility that protects me from my own pride and the death and destruction it causes not just for me, but for those I love (Proverbs 11:2). Thank You for using the struggles we inevitably face for our good and Your glory—that no cross we bear is meaningless or carried alone. Thank You for glimpses of You.”

Encouragement for the Threshing

The Threshing. It sounds like the name of horror movie. And in some ways, maybe it is. I see it happening around me, and I’ve been hesitant to say anything, to speak anything because aren’t we all these days—about SO many things. But I can’t get the idea out of my mind. The Lord is sifting the wheat from the tares. Now, I’m sure He’s been doing this for centuries, it’s just not every generation lives through a season of threshing. Some have only ever known the decades of planting, some the decades of growth, which means some must live through the decades of threshing as well. It is the process of harvesting after all.

Threshing is the process of harvesting grains of wheat by the use of cutting and/or beating. The object being to loosen and separate the grains of wheat from the stalk of the plant. If you’re the wheat, it’s a violent process.

So, what does this look like for people? Adversity. Every Christ-follower I know is facing one adversity after another. Much like the process of threshing, the beating is constant. It doesn’t stop. One blow after another. One punch in the gut, one slash to the spirit after another. Just when you think you can come up for air, more adversity comes crashing into your life again. I’ve been there. Am there on some days still. It’s been over a decade of waves of grief for me. For some it’s been over a decade of physical traumas and complications. For some, they’ve never known anxiety and depression so personally. They can’t escape it or find relief from the onslaught of voices. The adversity is real. It is high. It is hard. It is not stopping.

It makes you question the goodness of God. It makes you wonder if everything you’ve ever believed is a lie. It makes you shout at God for Him to stop! Haven’t I been Your faithful child?! Haven’t I kept the faith, proclaimed your glory, stood by the promises of Your Word even when they didn’t “feel” true?! Haven’t I endured enough? Hasn’t my family and friends endured enough? The questions and doubts assail our minds and hearts. We wrestle with God, with our faith, with each other.

Friends, fellow believers, we are being sifted, and only the wheat gets gathered.

I’m not talking about the unbelievers from the believers here, the goats from the sheep (Well, maybe I am a little.) I’m talking about the wheat from the tares. The types of seed along the path without deep roots, choked by the world, drying out. I’m talking about the people who have grown up among us, who look like us, talk like us, act like us, say they believe what we believe, say they love and follow Jesus, who read His Word, who claim His name, yet adversity wipes them out. Somewhere in the process of wrestling with their faith and wrestling with God, they give up, and they walk away. They can’t take the threshing any longer. (Matthew 13:24-30, Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23)

I’ve been there. Some days I am still there. There will be days I am there again. This generation is living through a season of threshing. I’m not saying Jesus is returning tomorrow. I’m not proclaiming the end of the world as we know it is near. (Although, come Lord Jesus, come!) I’m saying I see the Lord using adversity in the life of His children to draw them close, to gather us together and to Him. He wants us to be free of the weeds for a little while. He’s causing the tares to fall behind and be consumed by the burning fire of this world, while He gathers His own to Himself.

Will you let bend your heavy, fruit-laden head of wheat, and allow the Master to thresh and gather you unto Himself? Will the words, “Though He slay me, yet will I praise Him,” fall from your mouth (Job 13:15)? Will you mean it? Will you live it? Will you choose to trust your Master’s careful, purpose-driven Hand? And if not, as an old song by Babbie Mason reminds me, when you can’t trace His hand, will you trust His heart? Do you even know His heart for you enough to trust it?

And that is the question separating the wheat from the chaff inside our churches today.

Do you know His heart for you enough to trust it? I believe we have been living in the era of growth for quite some time. The wheat and the tares have been growing alongside each other for decades now. While growth can be difficult and uncomfortable, it’s rarely traumatically painful. Growth pains are short lived. During a time of growth, it’s easy to become complacent, apathetic, content, comfortable, energized by the growth of yourself and others, encouraged, hopeful, the future is yours—bright and possible. It’s easy to forget we were once seeds in the dark, and no one wants to ponder the threshing on the horizon. We just bask in the glory of the sun and grow!

Be encouraged, friends, fellow believers, your time of growth has been producing fruit. Heavy fruit. Fruit which bows its head to the Sower. Fruit able to withstand the threshing. Take heart! Our Master will gather you to Himself when His work is accomplished. In His presence there will be times of refreshing and renewal, feasting and reward. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, Acts 3:19-21, Jeremiah 31:25)

But only after the threshing.

Jesus’ children may wrestle, question, argue with Him all they need, but in the end, when the threshing floor grows still and quiet, their fruit will remain, and they will be gathered to Him. (Mark 13:7, Psalm 50:5, Jeremiah 23:3)

I want to be gathered to Him so badly. And I’m not just talking about my final resting place with Him for all eternity, I’m talking about today, now. In the middle of the adversity, the threshing, I am learning to savor the moments when Jesus runs His hands through the fruit of my life and nods with knowing affirmation or smiles with approval or holds me in love in His hand in the middle of the hard things happening around me. In the presence of my enemies, right in the middle of them, He prepares a table for me (Psalm 23:5). He is fully present in the beginning, the middle, and the end of all things.

In your time of growth, did you put down deep roots? Did you learn about His heart for you enough to trust it? To trust His purpose in the adversity even when it makes no sense? Even when the pain is unbearable? When you no longer feel His goodness, will you still choose to believe He is good? When you are not the recipient of what you think His favor should look like, will you still choose to believe His favor is present somehow, someway simply because you are His child? Is being His child enough for you?

Is being His child reward enough in itself?

I believe when the answer to this question is a broken, beaten, threshed-out, “Yes, Lord,” followed by child-like trust, producing humble obedience, and dogged, determination to live a life grateful for the cost of adoption into the family of God—when this happens, we are gathered unto our Jesus, pulled up into His lap and able to fully rest in the enjoyment of just Him. Just Jesus. Just being His child.

The gathering will come, but only after the threshing. Someone you know is being threshed right now. Someone you love is breaking open and falling apart. Someone needs you to be the worker in the field gathering them to Jesus because by God’s grace someone else is gathering your brokenness to Jesus. God’s kingdom on earth is not free of suffering, yet. Yet. But the kingdom He established, the one He began on earth when He sent His Son, this kingdom can be a safe place, a haven, a place of gathering and being gathered for His children.

Take heart. Take courage. Endure. Stand fast. Hold on. Persevere.

Therefore, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised.

 Hebrews 10:35-36

But remember, what God has promised is Himself! HE is the reward. He is the promise. Those who are disappointed by this truth are the tares falling away and being left behind.

Do you know His heart enough to trust it? Is He truly Enough for you? Is He all the reward and favor you need?

Good Friday Tears

Easter! I love Christmas, but Easter creates a tangible joy in my spirit. But there’s no Easter without Good Friday. There’s no resurrection without death and a funeral. And not only did Jesus have to die, but He also had to die the MOST torturous, gruesome, humiliating death any human has ever faced.

Remember Good Friday. Take time to read the account of the cross. Visualize the rods with which Jesus was beaten. Visualize the faces of the people doing the beating. Try to imagine what a crown of three-inch thorns feels like being pressed into your skull. The weight of a rugged cross on the exposed skin of a whipped, flesh-stripped back. Read the story but visualize every detail. (Matthew 27:26-66, Mark 15:15-47, Luke 23:24-56, John 19:16-42)

Let yourself cry. Mourn. Today represents the day your Jesus died. For you. He did it all for you.

The wrath of God can be defined as complete separation from the attributes and presence of God. Separation from His Goodness, Mercy, Sovereignty, Love, Beauty, Peace—the list goes on and on. These attributes are on limited display at all times even in our sinful world because we are and live in God’s creation. His presence still dwells with His people. His attributes still reflected in His creation. So, we have never experienced God’s full wrath, yet. We have no inkling to encapsulate the horror and torture of that reality. Maybe the depravity of a concentration camp or the bloody hell of a Roman colosseum, but even there God made Himself known among His people.

One of the greatest mysteries our minds cannot fathom is Christ fully knowing and experiencing the separation that is the full wrath of God. When the sky darkened and the earth shook that first Good Friday, Jesus fully knew the total wrath of God. In fully taking our destined and deserved punishment, He gave us a way to choose a different destiny even though He never committed one sin to deserve ours. He is the penultimate, spotless Lamb of God.

Christ’s quest was to save us from God’s wrath, but He had to defeat Death to do it. He couldn’t just taste it and survive. He couldn’t come within an inch of His life and live to tell the story. To defeat Death, He had to surrender completely to its power then rise victorious after what looked like utter defeat.

Oh, the battle that must have raged in the belly of eternity during those days between Good Friday and Easter! Sometimes I envision heaven as an opportunity to sit and hear the best stories the universe has ever known finally retold in the light of complete truth. Better than any theatre experience we can imagine. I want to hear this story of the middle one day—the story of how death was defeated.

Until that day, I can only imagine with my limited human mind the events between burial and resurrection, and it leaves me with more questions than answers. What I do know is there is no glorious victory of Easter resurrection without the gory suffering of a Good Friday death and burial. You can’t have one without the other.

You can’t have one without the other. Yet don’t we always try?

Jesus’ children will never know God’s wrath because He made another path for them if they choose to take it. But He did not remove all forms of death from this world. Though the Source of death has been defeated, the web of roots runs deep and far throughout the fabric of our world. We will not escape its presence this side of heaven.

So, we too must face death in our daily lives. Death of loved ones, dreams, hopes, ideas, jobs, homes—death permeates our world. We can mourn those things. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted (Matthew 5:4). Good Friday is a day to mourn but mourn expectantly. Our mourning does have an end, a glorious, victorious, radiant, triumphant, resurrected end!

We serve a Living Victor! A Resurrected Savior! A Glorified King! A Triumphant Comforter who is able, willing, and more than qualified to wrap you in His arms and breath new life into whatever needs resurrection. So, if you still live inside a tomb, look to the Light of your Savior’s triumph, heed His voice, and walk out.

Yes, we all have the Good Fridays in our lives and in our circumstances. They are necessary. Because we cannot know the freedom of the resurrected life without them. Jesus suffered and died to give us a choice. Don’t choose to stay in your tomb. Mourn for a season. Traverse, grapple, wrestle the weird mystery of the middle between death and life. But in the end, choose Christ and live. Live abundantly and victoriously!

Today I’ll shed tears for my Jesus, His Good Friday. I’ll shed tears for my Good Fridays and those of others, but I will smile as I cry because Sunday is coming, and I’m living life on the winning team. Are you?

Losing Those 15lbs

15lbs. It’s the average weight most people would like to lose. I know I would. Ten pounds gets you to a healthy weight, but fifteen gives you room to wiggle. You know, the old gain-five-being-bad, lose-five-being-good routine. It’s been said the average person gains fifteen pounds each decade. Yikes. If you’re not aware of the gain, cognizant to stop it, that’s how you end up seventy years old, overweight, and with joints so old you’re unable to move and drop the weight faster like you could in your youth. It can be done, it’s just twice as hard to do. I want to stop the weight gain before it gets to the point where it’s too hard to do or more difficult than it needs to be.

But weight loss is NOT easy. At 40, my metabolism decided to get even slower than it had been in my thirties. I’ve been on a personal health journey for 15 years. I know way more now than I did then, but my clothes size doesn’t necessarily reflect the knowledge. Why? Because we live in a world of instant results, instant gratification, instant coffee, and microwaveable life. And knowing all the right things isn’t the same as doing them. Every day. Every minute of the day. Every second.

True weight loss and then weight management begins with daily, lifelong choices. Hourly choices. Minute-by-minute, craving-by-craving choices. I want sugar! Nope. You need to drink more water. Salty snacks!!! Nope. Try an apple or hummus first. I’m SO tired. One more TV episode. Nope. Let’s go for a quick walk around the block. Do you see the battle here? Constant desires of feeling good, tasting good, being comfortable—this is called temptation. It is constant. The barrage of temptations doesn’t quit in this world. It’s actually quite exhausting and no wonder why most people just keep gaining those fifteen pounds every decade. To fight off temptation can be a full-time job all in itself!

The same is true in your walk with the Lord, only the temptations come in the form of voices in your mind, lies that have been building since you were a child. Lies once whispers in adolescence are full on bull horns in adulthood. We ignored the whispers but cover our ears in pain at the bull horn. I don’t know about you, but I’m done with the bull horns. I want the voices silenced, and if they can’t be erased this side of heaven, I at least want them back to a whisper for goodness sakes. Those bull horns are heavy, and I want to drop some serious spiritual weight. How?

True weight loss and then weight management begins with daily, lifelong choices. Hourly choices. Minute-by-minute, craving-by-craving choices. I want recognition! Nope. You need to drink more Living Water. Influence!!! Nope. Try scripture memory and meditation first. I’m SO alone. No one even cares who I am. Nope. Let’s go attend that Bible study. Do you see the battle here? Constant desires of feeling not enough, wanting more, being discontent—this is called temptation. It is constant. The barrage of temptations doesn’t quit in this world. It’s actually quite exhausting and no wonder why most people just keep gaining those fifteen pounds of bull horns every decade. To silence them is a full-time job all in itself!

When I try to manage my weight loss, of any kind, on my own, I fail miserably every day.

I am in constant, desperate need of a Savior, an accountability Partner, a Source of Life and meaningful motivation. God the Father is all those things and more. Jesus provided direct access through His sacrifice. A direct intravenous (IV) line to the hydrating Living Water of God. Then when He ascended back to heaven to prepare eternity for His loved ones, Jesus left behind the Holy Spirit—His Spirit—to fill and guide His children, to provide a constant source of nourishment. As a child of God, I’m never alone. I’m always enough, never too much, perfectly content, fully satisfied and filled to overflowing in all the things of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. That is who I am. (John 7:37-39, John 14:16-27, Psalm 103:4-5)

If you don’t observe me living like this is true, it’s because at some point in time in my journey with the Lord, I messed with the IV needle. I might have even yanked it out, or maybe someone else bumped me and dislodged it, or maybe something done to me even yanked it out. Regardless, my source of nutrition, wellness, fullness, help—it’s come loose. It’s not in place and flowing like it should.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I hate needles, and if my IV has been dislodged, I am not about to even try putting it back in place. So, from my place of weakness, need, and/or discomfort, I cry out for my Great Physician, and He comes and puts me back together with as much care and gentleness as He can manage given the circumstances. He is patient and gracious with me, not condemning or withholding. (Psalm 18:6, Hosea 6:1, Matthew 7:11)

He freely restores my Source of constant Help—His Spirit—as soon as I confess I need it. (Proverbs 28:13, 1 John 1:9, Acts 3:19-21, 1Peter 5:10)

I think that’s the weight loss tip I have yet to master. I need help. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every breath. I need help. I need Jesus. I need His Holy Spirit connection to enjoy lasting results of any kind, physical or spiritual.

In Matthew 26 verse 41, Jesus is pleading with his disciples to “watch and pray,” so they wouldn’t fall into temptation because “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Don’t I know it! To watch means to be aware. To pray is the act of seeking support from Someone higher than you. Whenever we fall to temptation, we’re either unaware—whether innocently or by our own choice—or we are refusing to seek support from someone Who knows more than we do.

Friends, I want more victory in my life! I want to shed these fifteen pounds. For good. God has increased my awareness for decades, now I pray He increases my faith to pray, to take courage, to access the power of the Holy Spirit readily available to me (2 Peter 1:1-4). This weight is coming off, friends, and it won’t be my doing. If you see me fifteen pounds lighter in the days, months, years ahead, let it be a testimony to my Helper, my Savior, my Personal Trainer. He prompted, led, guided, encouraged, and fueled the journey. And if I’m not, grace please. It’s so easy to forget we need the IV connection and try to live without it for a while.

We are all a masterpiece in progress, a world-class athlete in training. In progress. In training. There’s still a work in us to be done. A work our Jesus is faithful to perfect (Philippians 1:6). He’s doing His part all the time. Our part is simply to let Him do His. Believe, trust, obey, follow, have faith. Love Jesus in word and deed more than anyone or anything else. And when you mess up and miss the mark, forgetting His plan is better than your own, take some time to confess and return to Him once more.

I’m learning confession in all areas of life really is the best way to lose weight. Repentance—the returning—is the best way to keep it off. Confession keeps my proud heart in the right posture before God—humbled, aware of my great need that only He can meet. Repentance opens my heart to be filled by the Spirit once again, to live from the Spirit instead of just for Him. These small nuances make all the difference over time, like logging your meals or choosing fruit over ice cream. Confession and repentance are our reset button, like a daily cleanse for your gut.

When’s the last time you hit the reset button with Jesus? Not just a quick “I’m sorry,” but some time in prayer, on your knees, getting it all out there in the open? There’s so much more here I’m still learning to unpack. I’m learning to practice what I preach even today. So, I think I’ll stop here today and go do just that.

 

Looking Back to Keep Looking Ahead

I wrote this over two years ago. The comments I make about social distancing make me laugh now, but the rest of it is a good reminder as the pace of life seemed to triple when the world reopened. All the lessons God was teaching two years ago are still applicable today. How quickly we forget! Maybe a quick jaunt down my memory lane will jog yours. Truth is, if we didn’t learn the lessons then, God will give us another chance to learn them again.

………………….

 

March 2020…..

Saturday I was supposed to fly to Kenya. On mission trip. With my husband. Just us, serving together. It was going to be my first time on the African continent. There was going to be a safari and wild animals involved at some point. Even more exciting to me, I was going to get to hug the neck of a missionary friend we’ve supported from afar for almost twenty years. It was going to be the best way I could spend my fortieth birthday. The best representation of how I want my life remembered and known—serving others, loving like Jesus, always on an adventure, and of course some animal love.

Enter COVID-19.

It canceled Kenya, a camping trip, a backpacking trip with my sister to Zion National Park, probably even my mom’s visit, and maybe more. This was my last year with some of the senior girls I’ve been in small group with since they were freshmen. While my heart aches for my own disappointments, it aches doubly for the disappointments they are experiencing. It aches for all the families whose paychecks will be directly affected by this quarantine.

And I sit at home with my family and have nothing better to do but sit and ponder and think and whine. Oh, poor me. Oh, poor us. The pity party can be real.

I watch people who are still refusing to social distance. Part of me gets angry. Why should they still get to hang with their friends? Part of me gets scared—the longer people wait to social distance, the longer this thing goes on. I waffle between self-righteous justice and sulking defeat. You can’t make people do what they don’t want to do. Heck, even if it came down to a military state, I swear the surfers would still find a way to surf.

We are all innately selfish and driven toward our own self-satisfaction and self-preservation. Considering the “greater good” does not come naturally. It’s why we hoard toilet paper because what if I need it? Forget everyone else. Sometimes we’re also judgmental and self-righteous, believing our way and our words are a better source of direction and light to a less enlightened world. Hence the public shaming and calling out over social media. The pride at the root of either end of the spectrum makes my skin crawl.

Sitting at home with all these thoughts, I am forced to face the depravity and selfishness of my own mind and heart. I’m forced to consider the fact that part of me wants to give the middle finger to the government and the virus and board an airplane to anywhere out of pure rebellion. There are no distractions right now to keep me from facing that ugly, rebellious heart in the mirror of my mind. My thoughts cannot be drowned by my schedule currently, and I’m not sure I like what’s underneath. Sin. Ugly, prideful, selfish sin. Sometimes in my polished Christian world, I can forget that I’m included in the “all” of Romans 3:23. Full of sin and fallen short.

Enter Jesus. Like a breath of fresh air (Ezekiel 37:5), honey sweet to the taste (Psalm 119:103), He is transformative truth.

Because He reminds me ever so softly to look around and appreciate (Hebrews 12:28). To open disillusioned eyes to what I do have instead of what I don’t (Colossians 4:2). This is hard. Way harder than wallowing and throwing a pity party.

I started to list my blessings. Each of us have things we can be grateful for. Each of us have our own unique set of circumstances where we can find the silver linings that mean something to us, if not to everyone. Like, I can sleep in. Not everyone enjoys sleeping in as much as I do, but I really do. It’s a silver lining for me. Some of my California friends may be enjoying the sound of the rain on the rooftop, a rare sound in this part of the country. Others may be relishing the gift of unscheduled time because their life is always over-scheduled. We can all find silver linings.

It’s these small, miniscule blessings that can get lost in the noise of everyday life. Like the whisper of God Himself to Elijah (1 Kings 19:12-13), life can drown out my Best Friend’s voice. The busyness can distract from the callings my Jesus has given me. The constant need to entertain or perform can drown creativity and innovation. Now, quite unexpectedly, we’ve all been given a reason to throw all our excuses out the window. Lack of time is no longer an excuse. Being too busy is no longer an excuse. I dare say, even being too tired is no longer an excuse for some.

God, in His infinite wisdom, has created a space in time where our excuses don’t hold up anymore. If you’re like me, you might be forced to face the truth that there are things in life you just don’t want to do. There are responsibilities you know you have; you don’t want to admit you’ve been pushing to the back burner of life for all the previously listed excuses. That currently don’t exist.

God has created a space where we can be gently confronted with ourselves and make a choice to change, to create new habits, to prioritize what really matters. Then, He’s given us the time to make it happen.

That conversation you’ve been meaning to have with someone, have it.

That phone call you’ve been meaning to make, make it.

That text message you keep forgetting to send, send it.

That talk with your kids? your spouse? Make it happen.

That thing you’ve always wanted to teach yourself or your kids, do that.

Write. Read. Sing. Talk. Listen. Play. These are all ways we’ve forgotten how to connect because of being too busy, too tired, or not having enough time.

Today I laid on my couch and wallowed in my disappointment, in the loss of all the things I was looking forward to. I drowned my thoughts in meaningless television shows, watching my kids do the same on their own devices. I didn’t want to eat. Wasn’t tired enough to actually sleep until I got depressed enough to nap for an hour. It was miserable, friends.

The point? It takes work and effort to find ways to connect with others in meaningful ways. Even in my own home. Maybe especially in my own home. But we were designed by God for relationship and for work. He knew it was good for our souls from the very beginning (Genesis 2:15, 18). So, I’m going to go make myself a daily schedule, and Lord-willing, I’ll keep it. But it won’t be easy because my couch and television and cozy blankets are right there. It will be worth it because I will be a good steward of the gift of time the Lord has given during this season.

This is not how I wanted to spend the week of my fortieth birthday. This is not how I want to remember this benchmark year of life. But the hard truth is, I’ve been given an opportunity to write my own script to how the days ahead will play out in my home. An adventure my kids will remember being a part of instead of looking back on it in pictures. I want my family to look back on this time and remember it the way I wanted for Kenya—we served others, loved Jesus, made each day an adventure, and loved on some animals 😂 (We do have two dogs and two guinea pigs in this house.)

I don’t know how long this quarantine will last, but I know my callings in life haven’t changed. My sphere of influence may shrink, but that doesn’t matter because I’m only ever living for an audience of One anyway.

“Thank you, Jesus, for helping me process through to a perspective shift for today. I know more hard days are ahead, but I trust Your plan. Tomorrow will be a better day because Your truth makes the difference. May my hands not be idle, and my work continue to reflect You in me. May I never doubt the importance of Your mantle as my family watches. Thank you for being gentle with my disappointed heart. Your gracious understanding is more than I deserve. Amen.”

Handling the Hurt

That text message stung. The long silences are filled with awkwardness. A distraction removes them from a conversation they never return to finish or revisit. The look in their eye tells you they’re not listening. He distances and hides. She overshares, becomes needy or completely insecure. Some scream and defend hotly. Heated conversation is typical. Others become cynical and dark. Some are so defensive about everything you feel it’s impossible to have a civil conversation.

Hurt people hurt people.

The hurt comes in all shapes and sizes. The passive aggressive are good at passing barbs or veiled stinging messages. The overtly aggressive scream and spew anger over the smallest incidents. The avoiders, avoid, sometimes even lie, or tell you what they think you want to hear, but they aren’t honest.

Yellers yell because they don’t feel heard.

Avoiders avoid because deep feelings scare them.

The overly distracted don’t have the capacity in the moment to even have the conversation.

Chances are if you’ve been hurt by someone, they are hurting also. In deep ways. They have open wounds now oozing into your life. Sometimes these people are aware of this, but I have found most people have zero clue they’ve hurt someone. Most people are so busy trying to hide and or treat their wounds, they don’t realize the effect it’s having on those around them.

Jesus was hurt by hurting people. He was rejected by his own hometown. Kicked out. Turned away. He was denied by Peter, one of His closest friends. Only one of ten lepers returned to say thank you the day He healed them all. We like to think of Him as perfect because He was, but the Bible says He also faced every human experience. He felt disappointment. He knew the burning irrationality of being offended. He was tempted to turn His back on those He knew would be ungrateful or had been ungrateful before. He had feelings, and I must believe for Him to understand my struggles in life, those feelings got hurt. (Luke 4:14-30, Matthew 26:69-75, Luke 17:11-19, Hebrews 4:15)

But He handled it all with grace and gentility, truth and love. Every wounded, hurting person was handled with care. He never excused the adulterous woman’s sin, but He also did not condemn her. He dispersed her accusers, then once they were alone, He told her to sin no more. He got His hands dirty with spit and mud healing some. He was begged to leave towns for healing others. The record of His conversation with the woman at the well is genius. Somehow, the way He spoke to her, made her love Him more even though He pointed out her every wrong! I like to think it’s because she felt fully known by Him, even her ugliness, yet fully loved by Him also. (John 8:1-11, John 9:6, Matthew 8:28-34, John 4:4-42)

The hurting that encountered Jesus were not always told truth, but they were always shown love.

Look around you. Today, in this divided, defensive world, every person you encounter is most likely hurting in ways you don’t see and have no way of understanding. Words AND actions are powerful tools. They must be carried and used in truth AND love. Sometimes both are needed in the moment. Other times, only actions of love are needed (1 John 3:18).

Jesus had the perfect wisdom of God to know when and how and what to say and do. I’m sure He felt the rub of wanting to speak truth, to correct, to guide, to offer advice, but in His wisdom, He chose to simply show up and be present instead. I also believe He felt that sensation in the pit of your stomach where you don’t want to say something, but you know you have to or need to say something, so in His wisdom He spoke truth with grace out of love and concern and in the need of the moment with compassion (Ephesians 4:29).

As Christians, followers of Jesus, we do not have to remain silent. We shouldn’t remain silent. We are called to hold one another accountable. In fact, the only people we are given permission to judge this side of heaven is our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. But we are out of practice in our delivery and soft skills to successfully enter those moments with others.

Our conviction and passion are too often received as condemnation when they are not delivered in a package wrapped by love and grace and given amid relationship.

So yes, speak the truth God has revealed to you. BUT speak it with the intention to show love. Speak it with the intention to offer grace where someone is drowning in shame. Speak it to offer a hand of camaraderie or commissary, letting the other person know, no matter what, you are in this with them, alongside them. Take the time to build or repair the foundation of the relationship, gaining trust, before speaking hard truths.

Because truth is an anchor. It is sturdy and solid. It will ground your faith, be a firm foundation. It will not move when the storms of life come. But it is heavy. To a drowning person, it is heavy. To a person soaring high in the clouds of life, it can be heavy. To the person on a long journey, it is heavy.

Know your audience before you hand them truth. It may be exactly what they need to hear, but you may need to get in the water and help them tread with the weight of it. You may need to be the counterbalance to the weight of the truth keeping them from crashing. You may need to plan to join them on their journey before you hand them the truth to take with them.

Yes, as Christians we are called to speak the truth to one another in love. We are called to hold each other to God’s standards of righteousness. But our culture has taught us we can spout these things over social media or in a text message or drop it like bombs in a one-off conversation, and somehow people are supposed to change their minds because we spoke truth in this manner? God can still use these methods because He can work all things for good, but this is not the example Jesus lived for us (Ephesians 4:15, Romans 8:28).

Jesus got His hands dirty. He spent hours eating and conversing inside the homes of the hurting. He made Himself available for one-on-one conversations. And in those moments, in those ways, when He was doing life with people, He spoke hard truths, and then He offered Himself as the means to help them carry and live with that truth.

I’m not Jesus, but I can try to be like Him. His Holy Spirit abides with me, so if I abide with Him, I can do all the things He calls me to do. If He strengthens me to hand over a heavy truth, then He also makes me strong enough to help carry the truth with the receiver, OR He’s already strengthened them to be able to carry it alone. When you have a relationship with the person, you will know which is true.

In the meantime, every Christian must practice balancing loving well with grace AND truth. We miss the mark when we err on either side. If you are a grace-giver by nature, it is wise to develop relationships with truth-tellers and vice versa. The perfect balance of the two leads us all straight to Jesus, and that is how the body of Christ accomplishes its purpose here on earth.

We are all hurting people, hurting people. The sooner we all accept this shortcoming about ourselves and each other, the sooner we can get around to figuring out how to be healing people that help each other heal.