It has been awhile since I have written.  When Covid first hit, I had to retreat to handle what was happening.  Then, we bought a house, renovated that house, and moved during the week of Easter.  After all that, we eventually sold our other house, which was also stressful.  Then, there was the stress of our world and society.  All of that, and I just had to take a big Sabbath to survive. 

It is now time to leave my cocoon.  While I Sabbathed and was quiet, I learned a lot.  God grew, challenged, and met me, yet some crevices in my soul that had been there got worse and bigger.  Still, some of those broken places, He wove over with His grace and filled me up with His Living Water.  I am both broken and whole, a reminder of His continual grace and the grace that is to come.

There is no denying how very hard this time has been and often continues to be.  Watching the pain of actual death for some, sickness for others, loss of jobs, school children bereft of friendship and learning, people scared and incredulous, rancor in the streets, families split because of opinions, and so on, has been one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced.  I know this experience is not unique to me-- it has been a lot for us all.

In this broken, I have waged my own war-- one of fear, rage, submission, and hope.  As a germaphobe, I have written previously (see here-- worry-hard-fought-faith-and-coronavirus.html) about how hard a pandemic is for me on a very basic level.  But, the emotional stress of it all has been more than I could anticipate.  I have been afraid for myself, my family, and all I love. I have been judged, and I have judged others.   I have been frustrated by my viewpoints and the differing ones of others.  I have sought Him and left it there and then taken it all back again.  And, I have learned that He is my Rock in ways I never knew I needed. 

Yet, through it all, I have felt called to carry space for all I encounter to breathe, to be who they truly are. These fraught times have taught me how much discipline it takes to let someone else be safe with me, even if I disagree with them about a certain issue.  In so doing, I have found some precious friends who have done the same for me, even while knowing we deeply disagree in our perspectives. 

It is simply hard work to love this way; it is bloody, Cross-work.  It is some of the hardest work I have ever done. 

Humility is a bitter pill to swallow, and most in our culture do not cultivate its fruit. I am first in need to lay my own self down in these ways.  But, when we do, when we do, pathways of freedom and grace begin to form.  Love begets love, humility slays pride, and peace covers fear.

A beautiful lesson I have learned in this is regarding motives.  When all of this began, I think I would rush to wonder about someone’s motives if their views were different than mine.  In that, I judged.  Over time, God has revealed that I always must trust people’s hearts that I know, just like I want them to do so for me when I make them wonder.  It has been one of my biggest gifts in this season.

Can you imagine what our world would be like if we gave each other the benefit of the doubt—that just because we disagree does not change one iota the depth of the other’s love, character, integrity?

​So, how humble are you and I?  How safe are we for our friends?  Can they be real with us, or do they have to hide their real thoughts because they know we can’t handle them?

​I invite you to take up the cross of humility with me.  This does not mean our opinions will change nor that we won’t share them at appropriate times, but may we do so with our souls prostrate before Him.  Let us be humble together, for we follow a Savior that was humble enough to submit to death on a cross for us.  May we, too, take up our cross and follow Him.

A beginning caveat— this is written to believers in Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. All are welcome to read it, of course, but I am writing this to followers of Jesus, so if you do read it, please do so in this light.

As we have lived through this season, I am almost speechless to describe it. We are walking through a pandemic that is ravaging bodies, economies, and relationships.  At the same time, cultural upheaval of a magnitude I have never seen is rippling through our communities.  Amid this sits the beautiful, often broken, complicated, holy, and redeemed Bride of Christ—the Church.  Oh, how I love her—she is not perfect, but God is holding her, challenging her, rooting out sin, and calling her to show grace in a world that has lost its healing songs of mercy.  

Mercy’s songs, I humbly appeal, are quieting because we often cannot hold difficult realities about ourselves together.  Right now, culturally, we are struggling with our complexities and would rather label one another as “good” or “bad” based on one opinion, one mistake, one difference among us.  We have started putting people into these camps, categorizing one another as “this” or “that,” boxing complex human beings into spaces in which we will not let them escape.  We are even doing this sometimes in the church.

Yet, we who follow the Bible know how convoluted we are, for we bear both His image and a sinful nature simultaneously.  And, that reality gives us nuances that are not easily inserted into a simplistic duality.  Even when we have claimed the blood of Jesus as our righteousness—we have been born again, we still have not been glorified yet and face the challenge of our flesh daily.

Indeed, we are all made up of healthy and unhealthy elements; we are a convoluted jumble of it all.  As a wise counselor shared with me, we are all made up of parts— some functioning well and some not.  We have so much going on all at once. That is why we must resist the labeling of one another in exclusive, binding, and unyielding ways.  

Dividing ourselves into camps and words solely based on experiences and identities is so limiting.  That is not to say that these realities do not matter; they do— God made us specifically, beautifully, and purposefully in these ways.  But, our first identity as Christians must be in the blood of Jesus.  

As Christians, somehow, we have to reach through all this and grab the splintery Cross.  I see our hands there, all different, reaching through the darkness and terror to that Cross, holding there together.  As we do so in the midst of these crises, our compassion towards one another has to be so very strong, our love so very wide— wide enough to feel the stretch of Christ’s arms on the bloody cross.    

We need such humility to find one another.  Let me say that again to you and to myself—we need such humility to find one another.  

In the church, may we be found calling each other sister and brother first.  May we hold one another together.  May we have difficult conversations about our sin individually and corporately, hear one another anew, and walk in each other’s shoes more than we have.  But, but, but, we cannot divide ourselves in the church.  

Please, church, stay at the Cross.  Stay near it.  Let the blood of Christ be our foundation.  Everything must be handled in the shadow of the Cross.  That is where we must begin and eventually end.  And, if we think that anything or anyone other than Jesus can change a heart, we, too, will find ourselves bowing before a godless idol of humanistic ideology that will eventually devour our souls.   

​Instead, let us be found at the Cross, singing songs of mercy to a world that needs to see us finding unity in all our differences because of the blood of Jesus.   And may our songs of humility, redemption, and praise to our Father lead others to Jesus, in Whom streams of Living Water forever flow.

        So, ever since I was a little girl, I have been afraid of death.  I just remember being eerily aware of the danger of the world ever since I was very young.  This was not due to my childhood. I had a wonderful family and still do.  That I am even somewhat normal is due to them, I know, because God loved me so well through them. 
         My Mom has told me stories about my desire to wash my hands until they were raw because of germs.  How I knew about germs, I am not sure, but I picked it up along the way.  Also, I lived in a small town, and that smallness connects you with death because you are close to everyone.  We had our fair share of deaths, and I was close to most who passed.  Life circumstances and my innate fears seemed to whisper to me from the beginning.  Worry became a companion on my journey.
         In short, the prospect of death and its eventual imminence is something I think about, am cognizant of, and can worry about it (if I let myself) daily.
         So, enter the Coronavirus now-- you can imagine my level of crazy on the inside.  Oh my!  I just got back from Disneyland a few weeks ago and wore gloves during the rides the entire time I was there.  Yes, I was “that girl” because that was the only way I was able to get through it and enjoy myself and not make those around me miserable (at least, I hope)!
         As this pandemic closes in around the world, our country, and me, I am saddened, horrified, and, often, terrified.  All my fellow germaphobes are shouting out with me right now, and those who are anxious about such things understand my worry.
         Yet, despite all this crazy found in me and around me, God has placed a joy in Him that never goes away either.  This joy bubbles up and my face is smiling now even as I write it.  Nehemiah said that “the joy of the Lord is your strength,” (8:10) and that is a testimony that I give.  The delight I find in Him-- in worship, song, being His vessel where He calls me, in walking with Him—is truly breathtaking.  When He whooshes through me with His Holy Fire, I am undone and able to stand breathlessly in Him.
      In the midst of this see-sawing fear and joy is the battle for my faith over fear.  I face it daily and sometimes minutely.  I fight ferociously.  Despite my many frailties and doubts, I cannot deny the One who has called me by name, made me His own by His blood.  I love Him forever.  Still, how that fleshes out is hard for those of us who struggle in the grip of fear.  The difficulty of this battle is worth it, though.
         This is how I fight. 
         First, I go to His Word.  It is a daily source of renewal and adjustment. Often the lies from the world and the Evil One behind those filter through me throughout the day.  When I reorient myself and my mind in the Word, I am pulled near, restored, corrected.  There is no other washing that I need so much than that of the Word (Eph. 5:25).  I also daily swim in the Psalms—I immerse myself in them as if they are my oxygen.  For, as Jesus declared to the Evil One in Matt. 4:4, “… ‘It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”
         Second, I spend time alone with Jesus.  Often, I visualize putting my worries in boxes and giving them to our Lord to handle.  I, also, imagine myself being held by Him and crawling up in His lap because that is truly what I need from Him.  Leaning into Him in these ways and through worship and the Word are so vital to my faith.  Like David says in Ps. 27:4-5, may I just be in Your Presence, then I will be okay! (My translation!)
Third, I have sounding boards that are wise.  I go to counseling regularly to process my life, and this helps me manage my anxiety. I have found it so helpful to process with someone else, to clarify, and to be present in this way.  Not only that, I have relationships with my family, friends, and husband that keep me grounded.  They provide perspective when I may be going a bit too far because of my fears.
         Fourth, I am part of the Body of Christ.  Though we cannot gather currently, the many years of gathering together still infuse my dry bones with life!  And, the Body is not bound by the church’s walls, thankfully, and we are still finding ways to connect and walk through this together.  I cannot tell you how much I love being a part of His Body!  Drawing strength from one another, leaning on others’ shining faith when I’m faltering, coming together in our frailties at the Cross of Christ—it is a joy like no other. 
       Fifth, I look to the Gospel and the Cross.  In these trying times of a new pandemic (my absolute worst germaphobe nightmare!), it has taken me a bit to reorient myself here.  Because of my struggles, I have been in survival mode while taking this all in.  I am slowly looking to His hand at work here and seeing where He is moving.  I know He hates evil and the sadness of sickness, for Eden was our true home and to Eden we are headed again.  But, even in the darkest of moments, He is near and is redeeming through it. I see Him when I see others praying, giving, carrying their crosses, and serving through these harrowing times.  My hope is that many awaken to Him, too, for when we face evil, much is clarified for us—what really matters and what does not.
         Sixth, I believe that God’s blood can cover my weaknesses.  I fail often in so many areas, but in this one, I am an epic failure.  I will never forget when I first read that worry was a sin!  Yet, there is nothing like abject weakness to remind us of our need for a Savior.  And, in this truth, I give myself grace.  This world is hard for natures like mine—sometimes I feel as if I cannot handle the evil that exists here in my own soul and in the world.  And, I know I am not alone-- if that is you, I see you and am with you in spirit.  Yet, on the opposite side, some of you are just like, “We got this. God is big enough for this. I’m not afraid.”  I LOVE that, but it is not what first comes to my mind at this moment even though I believe God is big enough, too.  Yet, still, God has called me His own and will get me to say that over time, even if mine is a quiet whisper next to someone’s roar.  Honestly, I have felt Him telling me that He knows what it costs me even to get there—our costly faith pleases Him as we take up our crosses even when we don’t want to.  Jesus shares in Luke 9:23—“And he said to all, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.’”  And, for my fearless friends, whatever their weakness, He knows what it costs them to have faith in other areas.
        Lastly, I pray and reach out where I can.  Prayer keeps me connected to my Abba Father, for without this connection, I will always falter.  It also lets me love my neighbors so powerfully.  Prayer is a work I can do for anyone at anytime; it is such a wonderful way to love someone tangibly.  I also pray against the Evil One and that he would be stopped in his effort to hurt humanity, for he hates those who bear God’s image.  We must battle him through prayer.  Prayer is the most effective weapon we have in our fight for faith, for others, and against fear.  Ephesians 6:12, 18—“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms….. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”  May we be found on our knees more and more.
         So, wherever you are on the worry/anxiety scale, I encourage you to fight with me in the struggle against fear and worry.  It is okay to feel your feelings, but we must preach ourselves the Truth, too.  God is faithful and will be with us.  And, if you are reading this and are not a follower of Jesus, I invite you to follow Him today.  Just believe.  John 3:16—“ For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  If you became His disciple right now, please contact me anytime, and I will help as you move forward in faith.
         Love and peace to you all from this weak, broken, needy, sinner sister who is strong, healed, upheld, and redeemed because of her Lord Jesus! 
 
 

 

         Story is something I just cannot seem to live without.  I just recently finished binge-watching my favorite spy show.  I love it to the point that its characters often become like fictional friends.  This happens for me when I read books, too.  I am currently rereading the Anne Of Green Gables series right now, and I am visiting old friends as I do. I have missed them and the bewitching beauty of L.M. Montgomery’s prose.
         This preoccupation with story may seem odd to many and familiar to others.  All I know is that life can be very difficult this side of heaven, but story helps.  It helps me remember that Good will one day triumph over Evil, even though I have moments of doubt and fear.  Story reminds me that there is a future Eden coming, too, and that I am not fully home yet.  Ultimately, God’s gift of story reminds me of the fullness of Him.
         As I walk softly on this earth, the weight of evil, the power of free will, and the kingdom of darkness that is at work here can weigh me down in ways in which there are no sufficient words to describe.  Walking with questions to God about Job-like friends and circumstances, seeing the sicknesses that plunder many of daily life and sometimes actual life, hearing of stories that speak of hard, unspeakable things, aching with the sinful flesh I inhabit—these all are the often wordless burdens of suffering we carry.  In our losses and weaknesses, we are left with the Spirit’s groans.  “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” (Romans 8:26)
        One of God’s answers to us in these times is the gift of story.  All story in its best moments and hopes are pointing us to Him.  Stories are told with words, images, and sound, and I have found all mediums of His mercy through story to be so healing.
          So, I watch, listen, read, and wonder. 
         I watch gritty shows where there is fallout because I live with that fallout daily.  Seeing the hard is tough, but it also lets me know I’m not crazy.  Much uncertainty and darkness does live in our existence.  But, the best realistic visions still have a remnant of Good triumphing to some degree over Evil, even if it is only the person experiencing the Evil not succumbing to it while all else around her crumbles. 
​          I watch or read these stark stories to remember not to give up, for the thread of justice will one day be a river. (Amos 5:24)  And, I remember that He will not give up until all of creation is reconciled to Himself. (Col. 1:20)
        I also read stories like Anne Of Green Gables that have quotes such as this describing the beauty of a hearth-fire, “Anne was….gazing into that joyous glow where the sunshine of a hundred summers was being distilled from the maple cordwood.” (238). When I hear beauty described so acutely, I can see it and feel the warmth of those golden, summer rays hitting my soul.  In these moments, I find His Beauty breaking through the veil between this world and the one beyond.  I, also, hear it in music, behold it in nature’s majesty, and love to read it in words like these that drip with wonder and grace.
          Beauty speaks to me and lets me know that there is something beyond the harshness of life.  Wonder glistens with truth, and I cannot look away.  One day (if we are in Christ), the magic we glimpse here—the effortless and wordless beauty of His creatures, creation, and Story—will inhabit our souls completely.  I need this reminder, too—that there is much more to come!
          And, then there is the ultimate Story that I swim in daily—His Story.  It, too, is full of both the unflinching reality of the world we live in with all its horrors and sin as well as glimpses of pure wonder that take our breath away with their grace, joy, and all that is to come.  Christianity lives in the “both/and” reality of what the world is and what is coming.  It tells the truth about the world and its broken followers, but it is always reminding us of the Kingdom to come with its amazing, triumphant, yet servant King—Jesus, whose name literally means, “God saves.”
       Jesus is woven in every story of the Bible and is writing Himself in our own story if we let Him.  Sometimes, I am good at that and invite Him in, but there are rooms of fear and sin that I struggle to open to Him still.  I am a work in progress that won’t be finished until I see Him face-to-face, but His Story will eventually be written in every corner of my being, wrapping every atom of my existence in His righteousness and glory. 
         So, I persist in my love of story—seeing His great Story behind every good one.  As you listen, read, and remember, seek out stories that remind you of Him, too.  May we be found in the amazing tale He is weaving, living out our callings and His love to one another.  And, as we do, we will be living signs of the Story to come!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

       I have been wondering lately about truth and grace and our overexposed but also wonderfully-shared society.  What did you think about that sentence?  Yeah, I am confused, too, but it encompasses the wild complexities of living in this age.
     With the advent of social media, the non-stop news cycle, expanded visual formats for every screen, we are living in a wild, media-driven world.  Social media is just one part of our visual world, and it is one that I both love and abhor. 
     One blessing of social media is connectedness.  I love seeing friends near and far, getting to witness their lives in peace and hope and struggle and walking with them in that.  I, also, love having a platform to share about where God has brought me and have others journey with me.  These are all healthy and positive, adding to my wholeness and being.
     Still, there is the hard, and one of those for me is being tempted to miss being present.  Sometimes, I can be worried about posting while I am in the moment of living.  When that happens, I really am not present.  When I give into that pressure, I so miss out.  Ultimately, I don’t want to “live” online because that leads to disconnection with the people right before my very eyes.  And, I do not want to miss them!
     Another struggle in social media-land is that I can easily start to live falsely in this world.  It can become one of constructs, and in that, too, I can stumble.  In my worst moments, I lose sight of reality and focus on perception.  Full disclosure, I am a recovering perfectionistic, first-born pleaser.  So, I can take a deep dive off the truth-train in this constructed world if I’m not careful. 
     I think the lesson for me is not to lose touch with reality, actual reality, in the midst of the crazy times we live in.  Checking in with my motives are paramount to living truthfully.  I have to ask myself-- am I posting because I’m feeling insecure and have a need to show everyone that we are a “good” family and/or that I’m a “good/successful” person?  Or, am I sharing because I am grateful for the amazing moments He has given us in this life?  The answer to these questions makes every difference. 
     So, in the spirit of transparency, I want you to know that I have a wonderful family, but we are also a mess.  We are flawed, selfish people who squabble and fuss at one another sometimes.  We also have tons of fun together and great connectedness.  We are a bundle of joy and hard, sass and gentleness and everything in-between. 
     I get, though, that we don’t usually share the nitty gritty of our sinfulness because it would be awkward for everyone else observing it!  So, because of practicality and emotional appropriateness, we end up sharing the good moments usually.  And, I think that is generally okay as long as we know that all the other stuff in our lives is going on, too. 
     Staying real is so essential, but it is hard.  It takes deliberate intentionality and work to remain grounded in truth-- the truth that we all live in and contribute to the sinful, amazing, challenging, and beautiful world we inhabit.
     When we live in reality, our postings will remain genuine because we know who we are and who we aren’t.  None of us is perfect and life is crazy-hard and wonderful all at the same time.  When we have this perspective, our happy postings remind us of the wonderful that God has graciously given us as sustenance to our weary souls.
     So, joy in the gift of social media, but tell yourself the truth about it.  Like everything, it can be used for good or ill.  Technology is not evil or good inherently.  Just like everything, it is tainted by the Fall, and the people who employ it are fallen, as well.  We bring our brokenness to it, but we can also bring the healing and redemption of Jesus, as well. 
     May we be people who are living in truth, not constructs-- letting go of fake affirmation and choosing to dwell in the known truth of His unending love.  As we do, we will follow our Savior, walking in His steps and not our own. 

​        “Love endures all things.” (1 Corinthians 13:7)  That little but powerful world “all” carries and covers so much distance in soul.  I find that I love that word when it is representing all the goodness He brings this side of heaven.  But, when “all” includes suffering, my soul wavers and trembles.  It is then that I often hide or go in search of comfort. 
         Most of us, myself included, want stability at all costs.  We avoid and remove all pain whenever possible.  Until heaven or His coming, though, we are called to follow in all His footsteps, and His steps (1 Peter 2:21) knew both joy and suffering.  Though we will never bear the full extent of suffering He did, we will walk our own road after His.
          In the Hebrew, the word endure is made up of two words that literally mean to “abide under” (Strongs).  Thankfully, we do abide under God’s beautiful, tender blessings, like dew in the morning that comes to softly kiss the earth.  But, we also abide under the hard.  The challenge is to do it all—abide in whatever ways He is calling us to, be they full or sparse, sparkling or dark. 
        One of the most intense ways He calls us to abide under is with others in relationship.  This enduring with one another is one of the most amazing ways we reflect Him and show the world who He is.  In my relationships, enduring has been both joyous and difficult, depending on what kind of road I am walking.  The times that He has poured out Himself in fellowship with my husband, children, and friends have been some of the sweetest I have ever known.  It is like a pool of grace He gives to cool ourselves off from this difficult world.
       But, even with these amazing people I just mentioned, enduring can be difficult, as well.  For, in our families and with our friends, we still rub up against the humanity of one another, that pesky flesh with which we all still wrestle.  It is there that I want to sit with you today.
        Though every relationship calls me to endure lovingly, I want to share about parenting today.  I have found that living and breathing enduring love while parenting requires immense discipline of spirit. Parenting seems easy when all is going well, but to take the time in the hardest moments to breathe and pray so that I can respond and not react is bone-deep hard.
         It is so difficult because I sometimes am immature and choose to let my emotions reign instead of His Spirit.  When struggle ensues because of tiredness, squabbles, disrespect, being controlling, and so on (in either them, me, or all of us), I have a choice to make the pain stop via decree and top-down authority, or I can seek His direction before I act.  I can abide under and then move forward, or I can avoid it through my attempts to control the situation.  Control, though, never gets to my heart or my kids’ heart or His heart. 
       Yet, as any parent eventually realizes, the shaping and shepherding of souls is not a recipe we can manufacture.  It is only a surrender I can live.  This awareness and shift in my spirit is a journey I am joyfully on, for I want to be the best shepherd I can be, not just make my life more comfortable or my children more compliant.
          Compliant children is my short-term aim when my heart just wants peace and the appearance of ease.  But, down deep, I am insatiably hungry for His heart to change us in our depths, with me first in line and first in need.   When I do that and abide under with my children, He is given the grace and space to mold us all in His ways as we grow together in our walk on this earth.
         I am so thankful for the joy that my kids so deeply and effortlessly bring to my life just by being them and the amazing images of God He made them.  They truly are some of His most precious gifts to me!!  Abiding under is often so effortless in those magical times of communion.  But, I am becoming more and more grateful for the broken in us all that reminds me (and I hope one day them when they look back!) how much I and they need a Savior.  And, this, too, is a beauty they bring to my life that is both costly and precious.
         This is what enduring together looks like. It looks like abiding under, not sweeping under.  It is staying near and not leaving in the hard.  It is getting to the heart and not just outwardly appearances.   It is battling together through victories and defeats, knowing all is somehow leading us to Him.  For, He is the Giver of every victory and the only Succor that will ever meet our need. 
        This all calls for a bravery that is humbling.  To love truly and as best we can this side of heaven, honestly, and in every season, is none other than cruciform living.
         As we live out this surrendered, cruciform love in both the highs and lows together, may we be the living embodiment of this verse to all we encounter—“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” (2 Cor. 2:15)  May our abiding under with each other leave the indelible, exquisite, costly fragrance of Him wherever we walk. 

      Besides suffering, one of the hardest callings we have is to wait.  Though I often stubbornly resist, when I do wait, I see Him able to move more freely and powerfully in my life.  Even so, I still find the discipline of waiting to be a constant struggle. 
     Myriad forces hinder our waiting.  In our everyday lives, we are accustomed to getting things quickly—we have running water, microwaves, instant access to information, etc.  And, in our inner worlds, we are also similarly expectant.  If we work hard enough, we believe we can achieve our dreams.  In a way, we sometimes are convinced we deserve to get things easily because we have lived with these conveniences and seen such successes in our lives. 
     Then, we face something that is not easily accessible or that we cannot work into fulfillment.  We begin to realize that life does not always work out in the ways we envision, even when we try hard.  Sometimes, we do get what we want quickly, but often, He gives us what we need…slowly. 
     And, it is the slowly that really hurts.  It hurts because we often want what we want at whatever cost, even if it costs us His leading and covering.  
    To wait means to surrender, and surrendering is an achingly difficult business.  The relinquishing of our plans and our pride is akin to losing a limb.  It is life-altering.  When we lay ourselves down in this way, we are forever marked.
     The struggle began, just like almost everything, in the Garden.  Eve had a trust problem first.  She did not believe God’s plans were truly good for her.  So, she decided not to wait on God but manufacture good on her own.  She, so often like us, did not like the slow of God’s holy work in her life.  I am just like Eve too often.  
     This past year, I had a situation happen in which I wanted to share a perspective with someone about a sensitive cultural situation.  I felt the need to do it, and I did it, but I had not waited.  I had not prayed enough before I moved—I just went.  
     My husband often humorously calls me a “rhino” because I get this fierce focus and just will plow anything (and sadly sometimes anyone) down that gets in my way.  This dogged quality can be a blessing when operating under the Spirit’s direction.  He made me with a spirit that does not stop or give up, but it is His to use, not mine.  When I use it in my power, it can become a battering ram that leaves hurt in its wake.  The “rhino” in me struggles mightily to wait for wisdom, wait for prayer, wait for Him.
     So, when this situation happened, I had to circle back, apologize, and humble myself before God and the person because I had not waited.  The issue I brought up respectfully is not one I regret or would take back, but I should have waited and had Him direct me in the right timing of it.
     In the slowing and surrendering, even in my sin, He began to work.  I had allowed Him the sacred space of leading my life.  My goal, though, is to do that more on the front end of situations and not the back end.  I want to walk with Him humbly, slowly, quietly, while listening intently, so that I know when it is I need to stand meekly and when to be quiet.  
     As I look in Scripture, I see the discipline of waiting woven throughout the Old and the New Testaments.  The Psalmist often encourages his listeners to wait on the Lord—the word “wait” is mentioned 23 times in the Psalms.   And, Isaiah wrote of it often.  Listen to Isaiah in the 64th chapter, verse 4, “Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides You, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him.”  And, in the New Testament, we are “waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ…” (Titus 2:13)  
     The posture of waiting is written all over His pages, but it is a mold into which we often must be poured, for we do not take its shape easily.  God is eager to meet us in our waiting, but the rub is to wait first so that we can be met!
     So, in this fast, accessible world we live in, may we stop, listen, beseech, submit…wait.  I humbly invite you and myself to increase the rhythm of waiting in our souls, for “they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

Grace has left our culture with a swiftness and totality that takes my very breath away.  There is hardly any margin, mercy, or grace to be found. The art of disagreeing agreeably seems a lost and alien art.  Now, contempt has come calling, and we have drunk of it deeply. 
 
The stakes are truly high without grace.  Being candid with those whom you disagree can cost you something very tangible like your job and, even worse, the intangible yet invaluable good--your reputation.  One “wrong” statement or opinion can forever alter your present and future.  The very integrity I have tried so hard to live can be rendered moot by one interaction, one simple opinion fraying it completely. 
 
The Bible says that “a good name is more desirable than great riches.” (Proverbs 22:1)  But, how do we deal with a vitriolic culture that can wreck your name because you view the world differently than it does?  The coldness of our world scares me completely.  As David says in Psalm 69, “Scorn has broken my heart and has left me helpless; I looked for sympathy, but there was none, for comforters, but I found none.” (20)
 
Sadly, another level of malice is often layered to our disagreements.  If one is on “the wrong side of an issue,“ many people often declare the person with the other viewpoint to be “evil,” as well as ignorant, spreading further malice.  When I think of someone who is evil, I think of the Devil, Hitler, Stalin, terrorists.  Sadly, we are calling our neighbors, friends, church members, fellow citizens with this same term just because we disagree.  And, it is utterly suffocating. 
 
I humbly argue that contempt is the true evil here.  For, when we feel contempt, we secretly believe in our soul that we are “better” than others, more enlightened, etc.  While stroking our egos, we secretly wish others could be like us— so rational, intelligent, and advanced.  Oxford Living Dictionary gives this definition for contempt—“The feeling that a person or a thing is worthless or beneath consideration.”  How aptly this describes our culture right now when we disagree; we are so swift to completely render others “worthless.”
 
Sadly, most of us choose not to do the hard work of truly, vitally disagreeing with someone while keeping his/her motives and humanity in check.  It is much easier to write off people as “quacks” than to hear their hearts, even if you think their conclusions are fundamentally, ethically, morally, and even egregiously wrong.
 
Being a Christian is helping me challenge this tendency in myself.  Because of my beliefs, I think all humans are made in God’s image—the Imago Dei, and this belief catches me in my contempt.  When I remember we are made in His image, it is harder to hate, harder to dismiss, harder to compartmentalize someone into a “bad” category.  Even my “enemies” in ideology are stamped with the divine. 
 
What does this mean for me?  Right now, it means that I have decided not to put myself out there politically/ideologically in the social media realm.  That could certainly change, but for now, it helps me practice what I preach— to dialogue with humans face-to-face or one-on-one regarding these hard issues, forcing me to surrender contempt as I stare into someone’s eyes, smile, and frown. 
 
But, I am not running, so if you want to know my view on abortion, immigration, refugees and vetting, President Trump, Democrats, Republicans, theology, marriage and gender issues, or just anything in general, please email me so that we can have a personal chat.  I will gladly tell you all these things in relationship but not on social media where it is too easy for me to hide and not look into your eyes.  We must see each other as human during these hard, vital, crazy, emotional, but, hopefully, respectful conversations/debates.

I ask you to join with me in fighting this contempt that so easily creeps into our insecure and vain souls.  No matter how you feel led to share your opinions to the world, I pray you would lay down your contempt as you do it.  I am trying right along with you, battling often on my knees to do this very thing. 
 
May humility be the cloak we wear and grace be the fragrance we leave when we share our opinions.
 
 
 

                Prayer is always, always changing me, but there has been a certain prayer crawling through my soul lately, challenging some of the small spaces in my spirit.  In Rebecca Konyndyk DeYoung’s book, Glittering Vices, she introduced me to a word I have never known—pusillanimity, which means “smallness of soul.” (9)  What a profound phrase that encapsulates the deepest battles of who we are fighting to be. 
              The shapes of my soul’s smallness are many.  As I look at the vices in that book, I pretty much can find them all in the back corners and darker rooms of my soul.  But, there is one that God has been really working on lately—its name is envy.
                 This is one of those vices that embarrasses me most because as someone who hates pettiness, this sin unmistakably reeks of it.  Yet, it lives in me.  And, as De Young writes, “The bottom line for the envious is how they stack up against others, because they measure their self-worth comparatively.” (44)  This is so true.  Sometimes, when I look at others in admiration, it turns to envy, and I feel comparison’s gong ringing through my soul.  It is then that I can cross over into sin’s darkness.
               So, I have begun to pray on my knees to fight this darkness when it comes.  The prayer I pray is for His glory to abound more and more, especially in others.  I ask that His work in them to be great so that He may be glorified even more.  As I do, I begin to hunger for His glory above all else, rejoicing in His movement everywhere and in everyone instead of worrying about myself.  As John said, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” (3:30) 
                It is a hard prayer, for my selfishness breathes just as strongly as Eve’s did in her garden.  But, as I submit, I am tasting His freedom.  It is a posture I am growing in, and I don’t always do it perfectly or as sincerely as I want.  Still, it is changing me, nonetheless, this wanting more of God and more for others than myself.
                   So, when envy comes to call, what will we do?  When we see someone more successful at our field in worldly terms, when we see God’s unmistakable voice in another and wish for it in ours, when we see someone who has a more “perfect” family than ours, when we look at those who are the great influencers and wonder about our own place in the world, what response will we have? 
                   I pray you will join me in praying that God will be glorified and abound more and more in everyone we see.   And, may we not compare ourselves to others but rejoice in the God-reflection that is in us each.  As De Young says, “From a secure sense of God’s love and life-giving power, untainted by the envier’s conditional and comparative lens, we can see the right way to follow Paul’s admonition to ‘in humility regard others as better than yourselves.’” (57) 
                 Matthew records these words from Jesus—“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (16:24-25)  As we carry our own crosses and watch others carry theirs, my hope is that we would not tarry over them--how big or small they are, what a wide or narrow road they walk, or if theirs has less splinters than ours.  Instead, may we be found simply and faithfully carrying our cross while wholeheartedly encouraging and rejoicing with others as they carry theirs. 
                  And, as our personal kingdoms fall away, our anxious, worried grip of insecurity will loosen.  We will, then, be able to revel and rest in the God-ness we find in His people—shouting our joy at His movement in them!!  The painful, beautiful practice of humility will lead us into rejoicing at His amazing movement through us all—gasping at the grace of God that He even allows us to be part of His workings here on earth.  God, grant us mercy upon mercies to do just this. Hallelujah and hallelujah.

     I had another blog planned, but there has been a heaviness in my soul lately that must come out.  So much loss and chaos has been happening in my little world and in the larger world around us. And, I just want it to stop. 
     I don’t know if anyone is equipped for these losses, but I feel so utterly bereft when grief comes.  For, pain sometimes accompanies the price of love and connection.  I am so glad to pay it because it means I have fully attached my heart to another, but it is so costly. 
     Recently, one of the communities I have chosen to journey deeply with—my church-- has experienced two incredibly painful tragedies.  The first is a young woman whose life ended through domestic violence.  Her husband lost his life that night, too, eventually.  In that moment, two little girls were left orphaned in one instant of madness, pain, and evil.  It is almost too much to take in.
     Next, a dear servant in this same community collapsed the very next week during our last session of worship at VBS.  She was a tireless, endless warrior for the evangelism of children.  She had remarked to me that week when we were serving together that “VBS was the highlight of [her] year.”  When most people are just trying to make it through the wild and wonderful craziness that is VBS, she was living life exhilarated because of it!  What a glorious testimony and what pain that we have now lost her.
     In our larger world, we have had the Baghdad, Bangladesh, and Nice murders in the last several weeks.  And, now we have the horrid tragedies happening in America clamoring around us.  And, many, many more continue to suffer around the globe, as well, because of every imaginable evil, be it starvation, rape, murder, sickness, oppression, and so on.
     With all of this, my spirit just sighs and wonders if I can keep going in the midst of this harshness, this fragility of life, this chaos, this sadness.  Sometimes, I wonder if I can keep breathing through it because the pain is so tangible and stifling.
     Can I just say that I am not okay with this?  I hate this reality of death and sin and the seeming unfairness of it all.
     Nevertheless, I am reminded that my God is not satisfied either with the way of this world.  He is not okay with this evil we live with and that we even experience in our own hearts.  His vision was Eden, and I think that my soul is long remembering it.  The imprint of His reflection on me remembers the lost Eden we came from where there was no sin, no evil, no loss, no pain, no sickness, no death.  And, I long for that home.
     There is good news, though, for God is leading us to a restored Eden, reclaiming for us what was lost when Eve chose to go her own way and misuse the freedom God gave her and Adam.  Ever since the heavens were rent apart and started groaning at that very moment, God, the great I Am, has been writing the larger story of Eden Redeemed. 
     It started with Israel’s redemption.  The gift of their Passover lamb foreshadowed the Passover Lamb to come.  “‘Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.’” (John 1:29) Through Him-- Jesus, we found our ultimate redemption on the Cross.  Then came the Empty Tomb, where death was vanquished.  There, God rebuked all graves for their deadness and caused them to be final no more. 
     And, it is still happening today, as He leads His church, His people, to sing the song of Eden and Redemption to all those who are still struggling in this groaning, broken, beautiful land.  It is because of this, His labor for us, that we can keep breathing in the light of losing our loved ones and somehow bear the continued suffering in this world. 
     May we breathe in Him, Truth, as we walk forward day by day in the hardness of this life.  For, platitudes will never satisfy, only a Truth grounded in reality can sustain our spirits— a Truth that knows of a bloody, costly, yet victorious cross.  And, may we rest knowing that those who are in Jesus are with Him now and weep no more.