when God says yes

 2 Corinthians 1:20 For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ. And so through him the “Amen” is spoken by us to the glory of God.

I wonder how many promises God has made.  A quick google search yields answers all the way up to 3,500.  But as we read in the Scripture above, it doesn’t matter how many, what does matter is that every promise is fulfilled in Christ.   Each and every one. The answer is “yes!” in Christ; He embodies the yes of God.  He accomplishes it and He proclaims it. The Father has made countless promises, our Savior has fulfilled each one. 

And what do we do? 
We glorify God by saying Amen. 

Surprisingly, Amen doesn’t mean “the end” but instead means “truly, so be it, yes, I agree.”   It is an agreement with the Father.  It is our yes in response to all that He is, says, and does. And it is one of the most universal words in human language. 

I wonder what it looks like to say “amen” to the Father?
I think of Mary’s response when Gabriel told her of the child she would bear: “Yes, Lord.  May it be to me as You have said.”  I’m sure she had so many questions, but she said yes anyway.  Agreeing with God doesn’t mean we have every answer, it means in the midst of uncertainty, we say yes anyway.  It doesn’t mean we’re idle, it means we join what He’s doing as an active participant. It doesn’t mean we don’t ask, seek, and knock, it means we persist in prayer and also submit to His way.

I’ve struggled through some of God’s “nos” over the years.  Hearing No is difficult.  I assume this is universal.  But it seems God’s “yeses” are also difficult.  Maybe we don’t believe what He says--that’s He’s that good, or that His yeses are actual fact and not just theory.  Maybe we are so stuck on a no, that we’ve overlooked His yeses.

Like the first two in the garden, hyper focused on the one No of God, and unable to fathom the goodness of His infinite yeses, we too have trouble seeing the abundance of Yeses He gives: Comfort? Yes! Strength? Yes! His presence in joy and pain? Yes!  Eternity with Him? Yes! Mercy? Grace? Yes! An endless supply of uncommon love? Yes!  Wisdom? Yes! Favor, righteousness, peace that passes understanding, healing, resurrection? Yes! Rest, A new name, victory over sin and death? Abundant life, calm in the storm, joy unspeakable, forgiveness, soul-delight, Living Water, broken chains, intercession before the Father? Yes.

Sometimes I voice the Amen because I’m completely on board with what He’s doing, and sometimes I say Amen so my heart hears my mouth and tags along.  When God’s plan veers a different direction than my desires, willingly saying yes to Him is hard. My fickle heart oscillates between wanting my own way and wanting His.  I wonder if growth in Christ is essentially aligning our hearts with His, agreeing with His promises, agreeing with His yeses and nos.  

Oh dear friend, what is God speaking and doing that you have resisted?  Know that your God has declared good things.  Cling to what He’s promised and shout a resounding Amen.

wandering

Alone. Wandering. It’s unnerving when life takes a turn and the ground you’ve built your life on is unsure...when you realize the path where your feet have settled is no longer a path at all, when equations you’ve relied on no longer balance.

~~Like the time my friend and I went on a simple four-wheeler ride and 10 hours later found ourselves walking in the woods, no trail in sight, no person in sight, and no 4-wheeler in sight. We had lost our way. And yes, we even lost the 4-wheeler. How does that happen? That’s a story for another day. “Help, Help” our shaky, tearful preteen voices yelled. We clung together like magnets, walking and looking and yelling. Hours and hours. Scene after scene went through my mind of living the rest of our lives in the woods, lost. I was terrified, but not the horror movie kind of terrified. No, it was more of a sudden realization that life was not as safe as I once thought—for the first 12 years of my life I didn’t have the understanding that life is hard or that scary things happen or that all trails don’t lead home.

I think of this story when I feel the wandering rumbling within. I think of this story when I see someone so far down a road and returning feels impossible. What once felt like an exploration has quietly shifted to being lost in a shifting maze. And the result? Fearful, breathless searching.
It can be terrifying when looking around no longer brings comfort but instead suggests alienation. So alone, not only are you unfamiliar with the surrounding scenery, you’re also unfamiliar with yourself in this unmarked space.

~~Just as the sun was setting we finally heard a voice--a distant “Heather!...Shelley!...Come toward my voice” The voice so distant we couldn’t tell which way to turn so we stood still, listening and hoping. Minutes that felt like hours passed and then we saw him. We had been found. If you’ve ever gotten lost, you know the sudden burst of hope, joy, and relief at the first sight of rescue. They had called in a man who knew those woods “like tha back a my hand.” I remember the sight of him, this burly, serious man. He was clearly the keeper of the woods and he was on a rescue mission. We climbed on His 4 wheeler and clung tight, breathing deep, because we had been found.

Friend, I’m not sure if this story is familiar to you. I don’t know if you are wandering right now or not. But if by chance you are, can I tell you something you may need to reread when you’re ready? You are not alone. Your God knows the way. He knows how far you’ve traveled and He knows the reason.

He knows if you’re wandering for survival-- whether it’s running from chaos or looking for safety, The Prince of Peace knows.

He knows if your wandering is rebellion--a rejection of people, ideas, and beliefs in search of your own, The Truth incarnate knows.

He knows if boredom has caused you to wander-- life hasn’t turned out the way you envisioned and your restless heart has grown too restless to contain, The Abundant Life-Giver knows.

Questions, doubts, anger, hurts...whatever your reason, your Father in heaven knows.

The One who knows the way, the “Keeper of the Woods,” is on a rescue mission. It isn’t to bring you shame, but rather to bring you home. It may not be so He can bring you back to life like it was, but it certainly is to bring you to Himself.
“Son! Daughter! Come toward my voice,” He calls. And in His mercy and grace, He’ll clarify, prove, and confirm who He is, who you are, and why walking with Him is infinitely better than walking away from Him. He calls your name. His eye is on you. He is your rescue.

flourish

Flourish. Jesus has called me to flourish: to grow prolifically, to thrive, to display His glory. But I admit much of the time I feel the opposite...like I’m a case study of what it looks like to not flourish. Tired, distracted and vacillating between living on autopilot and living on the wrong fuel, I’m repeatedly surprised by the resulting emptiness.

I’m reminded of a plant in my kitchen. I had listened to the advice to keep it in a dark room and not water until the soil was bone dry. Bad advice. Yellowed and wilted, each day it looked worse than the day before.

Finally one day, when it was the saddest plant I’d ever seen, I absentmindedly moved it near my kitchen window and flooded it with water. I went to change out the laundry and here is what I saw when I returned: its arms were raised high, palms facing the window with its turgor pressure in full force. And it was smiling. Have you ever seen a plant smile? I have. And it whispered a quiet, “thank you.”

Ok, maybe that didn’t happen. But the change after simply moving it to the sunlight and giving it a drink was shocking. It was doing exactly what it was created to do, what it had been longing to do for longer than I’ll admit--taking in sunlight and nutrients and showcasing it’s green leaves.

It had found its glory.

I wonder if this is a lesson on what it means to Flourish? Maybe it’s as simple as facing the light, taking Him in, and then doing what I’m created to do. Why do I complicate this? Why do I often choose to starve and wilt? Why do I persist in my stubbornness to live my days without Him? I don’t know if it’s my lust for control or accomplishment, but I’ve taken the simple life with God and added stuff He never intended.

The truth is, flourishing is clear and simple. I take Him in and I flourish: I feast on His word and I flourish; I marinate in His presence and I flourish; I drink in His Spirit and I flourish. In Him I grow and His light brings health and wholeness. And then I simply do what I was created to do--I display Him in whatever season, circumstance, joy or pain I find myself. Fully nourished, I am free to display His glory, no longer wilting, but flourishing in Him.

showing up

A life meant to be vibrant, now dull.
A life meant to flourish, now yellowed and wilted.
Busy. Moving, always moving but barely thinking.
Distracted. Unaware and disengaged from my own soul.
Sleepy. Deciding by default that the easy choice is the best choice. 

Showing up for life takes courage. What if what we have to offer is rejected? What if we show up with all we can muster and it’s only given a passing glance, a halfhearted look that doesn’t hold anyone’s attention, including our own?

If we show up, what comforts will we have to forego? Because showing up always comes at a cost. Showing up for our own life means setting laziness and ease aside. It means not watching the lives of others, but participating in our own life. It means not seeking things that numb but doing things that require discipline. It means having all the conversations--the good soul-feeding ones, the hard ones, the messy ones. It means valuing authenticity over pretense.

When did escaping reality become such an attractive choice? Maybe when reality required more than we were prepared to give. Maybe when we believed the lie that comfort was priority. I wonder if it happened little by little, one small choice to avoid or disengage at a time. Like a drug addict who began with a few impulsive half-hearted decisions which led to larger decisions, until eventually there wasn’t a decision to make at all--the path unknowingly had already been decided in small increments along the way. As the addict one day looks around and sees nothing resembling real life, just cheap counterfeits, I wonder if after living on autopilot for far too long, we might have this same realization. We know our life is a gift, but we’ve treated the minutes and days as if they were something to be wasted. We’ve allowed ourselves to live in a stupor, full of mind-numbing entertainment and distraction.

In our quest for something more interesting, we’ve traded reality for a false, heavily filtered image that no longer resembles anything true. What if we decide to lay our current image of a life down and search out and remember a life that is LIVED? A life that GOES, a life that DOES, a life that is no longer just a reaction, but thoughtful and intentional. We can show up and participate or we can retreat. We can hide who we are--our thoughts, ideas, gifts, failures, uncertainties, or we can open them up for others. We can take our desire to be admired and wad it up like an old grocery list and toss it in the trash, because connection trumps admiration every time.

Oh Lord, When my vision is hazy and feet walk in the grooves made from repetition, when the world feels like a wheel I simply must rotate, awake my soul, turn me upside down, shine that bright bright light in my eyes. Help me not move left and right because of decisions I made years ago, or because of decisions made for me, living without thinking and thinking without pausing. Make my heart one of intention and purpose. Draw me out of spiritual stupor and invigorate my soul with You.

home

“In my deepest wound I saw your glory and it dazzled me.” St Augustine

Home. Thinking back on our first understanding of home can come with a torrent of emotion...the warm sliver of window light that woke us each morning, the black lab that met us on the driveway each evening, the daily paper always plopped just so on the counter, the hustle before holidays, the calm of Sunday afternoons, the smell of Friday night pizza, the sounds of that loud heater “warming up”...the memory of home is pregnant with nostalgia.

We remember the precious simple things that made up our life. We thought these would always be, but then time ticks away, calendar pages flip and one day we look back and we see it. What was once our whole world is now a memory. We didn’t know the permanent things were temporary, taken-for-granted gifts. They were seeds to nourish, many of which would not sprout for years to come. We assumed we would always be in this environment where we were loved and adored. At the time we may have wanted freedom from home’s constraints, but we were unaware those constraints were pieces of a foundation that would hold up in life’s ebb and flow.

But for most of us, memories of the past contain a unique mixture of comfort and pain. Whether thinking back brings common hurts caused by friends or hormones, or lingering memories of abuse, avoidance, or addiction, we wonder what do we do with this individualized GIF of pictures, phrases, and feelings running through our minds? What do we do when remembering brings pain? What do we do with neglect that masqueraded as freedom, control that masqueraded as care? Where do those memories settle? And how do we cause some to take root and others to fade away?
Memories are precious, not because they’re always wonderful but because they cannot be bought or sold. We speak of “making memories,” but we have no control over what becomes a memory and what doesn’t.

We’ve been long taught to avoid feelings of despair, loneliness, and sadness, but we may have forgotten that those feelings have a purpose. Terrified of falling into the pit, we stay on the periphery dreading what may be down there, forbidding ourselves to go there, living on the surface all while knowing the slightest “scratch” may unleash the ground swell below. In doing this we’ve forsaken the gift of wholeness, living days and months and years with the tangled mess that is our heart. It seems like a good idea because the untangling can be uncomfortable. What if we don’t like what we find, what if it changes us? Isn’t it better to move on? Maybe sometimes. But what do ignored wounds do? They either fester or they seem to heal but the stubborn scar tissue won’t allow for complete healing. May I ask you a question? Are there places where the ground has started to crack? Situations that bring out something unexpected? Maybe it’s time to go there.

In remembering and revisiting there can be healing--feelings that accompany pain help digest and process that pain. The depth of the pain varies, the intensity varies, the time needed varies, but one principle that doesn’t vary: healing happens when pain is no longer ignored. A wound, whether physical or emotional, must be tended to. Painful? Yes. But the pain of healing is purposeful and liberating, while the pain of avoidance is a passive aggressive inhibitor of abundance and freedom-- a constant dull ache. The potential healing is in direct proportion to the intensity of the pain.

And like the sweet sentiments of our past, pain also becomes a building block in making us who we are. Did your wounds break your heart, I can’t imagine the magnitude. Did Christ weep alongside you? Yes. Is it fair that your pain is worse than another’s. No. It isn’t fair. But do those things nullify or negate who God is and who you are in Him? No. Saying those things mattered does not mark them with a stamp of approval from you or from God. Saying they mattered means you are acknowledging their ability to bring Jesus to you. You want to just avoid old hurts and pain? That’s fine, but know this: you are forfeiting the healing offered you.

Many have ignored the hurt only to find it surface in the most unexpected times, others have marinated in past pain and instead of welcoming healing, they’ve lived crippled their whole lives.
But some have sat with those memories, felt them, even relived them, and found their power to be weak in light of our Great Healer. Jesus never said to avoid uncomfortable or painful feelings. In fact it seems He usually addressed it. The sick, the dying, the sinful, the broken, the guilty--never did He paint their lives with optimism, but with faith and healing. He didn’t tell the man with the withered hand to hide or get over it...He told him to hold it up. What if the healing we long for, the wholeness we’ve been suspicious of, is on the other side of holding it up to our Jesus? What if acknowledging pain proves to be the first step in wholeness.
Oh, my friend. Past wounds are painful, taking a step toward them is terrifying. But if you’re willing, know that you have One who will travel the course with you. One who has seen the way the whole time. One who knows the depth of that pit and will go down in it with you. One who will bring you back to new, fresh, healed, whole life. One who invites you to find your home in Him.

don't hide your healing

“I don’t think I can do it...I don’t have the resources/time/knowledge...I’m inadequate...my past is still with me, crippling me...if only you knew what I’ve done, what I’ve been through...I’m so broken surely He doesn’t want to use me but would rather I sit on the sidelines.”

I've heard each of these phrases again and again over the last few years as I’ve talked with women about leadership in a ministry for which I volunteer. We always pray for God’s leading as they consider this roll, and we trust His yeses and His nos.

But the thing I’ve been surprised by, the thing I can’t quite get over is the common thread in almost every meeting. Do you see it? Maybe you can even relate to these phrases.

Often after sharing their story with me, they pause, as if they’re waiting for me to say, “oh ok, nevermind...well thanks for meeting with me.” But then a moment that’s simultaneously beautiful and heartbreaking. “Wow God has really been working. I think you’d make a great leader.”

I wish you could see their face. It’s probably similar to my 10 year old face when I thought I wasn’t getting much for Christmas. I came into the living room and there it was, the Sound Design stereo of my dreams. I had settled for socks and underwear, but instead was shocked and overwhelmed at this unexpected gift.

These precious women, their faces a beautiful picture of God’s shocking grace and restoration, have lived years, some even decades, thinking their lives just don’t measure up, that God could never use them. They’ve settled, maybe not for “socks and underwear” but for a life of observing instead of participating.

So here’s what I tell them: The world needs to hear the unique way you’ve experienced His forgiveness and grace--your weakness or brokenness doesn’t exclude you; it’s actually the prerequisite to seeing Him work in a mighty way. God wants to work in and through every single person submitted to Him.

You know what God does with the independent strong? He humbles them.

You know what He does with the humble or weak or wounded? He heals them, lifts them, places their feet on solid ground, and then He spotlights that healing to display His faithful power.

You know what does exclude you? Unbelief that God can and will work in you and through you.

Questioning if God can use you isn’t humility, but actually doubting His heart and His power. God heals the broken, but how will the world know He’s the Great Healer if you hide your story?

So Sister, I’m begging you--don’t hide your healing. Don’t sit on the sidelines because of ________. It’s time for the healed and restored to come out of hiding and in humility share our stories, share our lives...hold whatever we are up with open hands while whispering, “here you go Lord, use it however you like.”

still I follow

Follow Me. His call goes out: the call to something bigger, something deeper, something higher, the call to lay down and leave behind. And even though I’m flooded with uncertainty, I stand, lay down my nets and walk forward.

And follow.

Who is this man who draws and woos my heart?
He invites me to come along, to walk with Him. I’m nervous but I find my feet taking step after step, my feet settling onto this path. I don’t know where this road leads, but I know it isn’t a path to easy or indulgence.

But still I follow.

Following Him means going right or left is no longer my decision. Following means I stay attentive to my Shepherd. Following means my own agenda has dissolved, and if there are any fragments left, they must be submitted. Sometimes following means being propelled at breath-taking speed, sometimes it means pause, being still, waiting. Often, I begin to vere toward interesting things, but in His wisdom and grace He draws me back, “that’s not for you.” And when I object, He beckons again, “Follow Me.”

So still I follow.

“Not follow Me and work, labor, strive, but Follow me and in my supernatural creativity I will make you and remake you. I will form you, rearrange you, place you. Complete dependance is required and if not possessed, it will be formed in you. Follow me, but first consider the way I am going.”

And still I follow.

When I follow I’m reminded that the One I follow went all the way to the cross. I follow a crucified savior. The cost is great, but His love is greater. This is not upward mobility. I am not climbing up a ladder, rather I am climbing down....all the way down to the place of humility and service. And death.

Yet still I follow.

Following, I’m confounded by this Man who heals with a touch, who creates with a word, who confuses and convicts and comforts. I watch my assumptions dissipate, I watch my pride bow low, I watch my shame run and hide. The discrepancy between who He is and who I am seems infinite. But I find He who rose is now raising me; I find He who has called me to die has also called me to come to life. New life. A life marked with His wisdom, power and love.

So still I follow.

face to face

Fear had gripped my heart and wouldn’t let go. I was afraid of making the wrong decision, afraid of outcomes, afraid of what others would think, and even afraid I had misinterpreted my own heart. The fear was swirling, and not the sweet swirling of an autumn breeze. It was tornado size fear, and I was certain the only thing remaining when it was over would be destruction.

But then. God in His sweet tender way put these words in front of me.

Isaiah 41:10: So do not fear, for I am with you, so do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand...V13 For I am the Lord, your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you “do not fear; I will help you.”

I had read these words before, but I guess I missed the picture of what was happening: The Father, holding His child with His righteous right hand--the hand of power and salvation--then takes hold of the child’s right hand. Can you picture it?

Being held with His right hand while He’s holding the child’s right hand puts them face to face. The child is now facing the Father. He is holding the child close. Face to face...whispering, “do not fear, I will help you.” As I read those words over and over, His incredible peace and presence washed over me.

So maybe, like me, you need to hear this: your Father in heaven upholds you with His hand of great power, all while holding your right hand, drawing you close, face to face, whispering words of comfort and hope:

Do not fear. I will help you.

this boy

This boy. 
This boy came from me, this boy looks like me, talks like me, responds like me. This boy is growing and growing. This boy looks like a man, still becoming like a man.
This boy is covered with bruises and scrapes and mosquito bites. This boy doesn’t go lightly. This boy I knew how to raise until he raised me, teaches me what it takes to be a mom of boys. This boy shows me the difference between facades and authenticity...he would have none of the former but painfully taught me about the later. This boy can break my heart with his words, but melts it with his grin.
This boy gives to those without and has compassion and humility for days. This boy makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. This boy has his daddy’s heart.
This boy goes out into the world to search for who he is and returns home to find it. This boy will leave one day, will marry one day, will have his own family one day. This boy is becoming grown whether I like it or not. This boy terrifies me, worries me, concerns me, humbles me, thrills me. And loves me. This boy loves me.

to the mama who's lost her way,

To the mama who’s lost her way. You are not alone. Maybe there isn’t anyone around while you sit here sobbing on this carpet, hiding in this closet, or driving in this car, but there’s a secret army of women who feel the weight of what you feel and who are shouldering this with you. Women who are hopeful and tired. So tired. If you could take a 40 foot view, and if longing hearts were visible, you’d see it. You would.
And here is what you’d see: fellow mamas, young and old, black and white, living with equal parts delight in our little loves and dread of losing sleep, joy in who they are becoming and melancholy that they will one day leave, fulfillment because we are growing a person, and longing because we may have lost ourselves.

This is called the paradox of motherhood.

When we enter into the long journey of giving and loving and teaching, we’re sometimes caught off guard when the baby or toddler or teen we so desperately wanted doesn’t always bring the fulfillment we thought they would.
We are learning mothering while we mother. We are like a runner who is learning to run after the race has already begun. What we thought was preparation was just playing house. Washing those baby clothes and reading those books was fun, but didn’t come close to addressing the emotion or worry many feel. There is no training that can prepare you for that. We find “what works” and then what works is merely yesterday’s solution, old news that no longer applies to today’s dilema. Today needs new thoughts, new methods, new energy--yesterday’s just won’t do.

Oh mama, hold on.

Now listen to me. Listen carefully. If you have wondered if you can do it: that means you certainly can--being unsure and uncertain are not liabilities, they are prerequisites showing that you take this job seriously.

If you think others are doing it better: this is your race and the way they run their race has nothing to do with you. Their race is none of your business.

If you long for sleep or quiet: there will come a day when you have more of that than you want, but in the meantime, find ways to get what you need--trade off with a friend, tag your man, grab the stroller and go outside.

If your day is steeped in chaos: pause, look at what you are expecting from yourself and cross 5 things off the list. When did we start believing the lie that our calendar and our to do list had to be full in order for our life to be?

If life has started to spiral out of control: take a breath, and tell someone. We were never meant to do this alone. When you need help, it doesn’t mean anything other than you are a human...it doesn’t mean you are inadequate or not fit for motherhood, it means you are a human. Read that out loud if you have to.
We are gifted these little ones, these cute squishy ones and we are tasked with pouring into their little lives all while we watch our lives change and shift in ways we never anticipated.
Maybe the way you were blazing forward was not the way for you at all, but this new trail you are trudging through is the one meant for you. It may be steep, winding, and hidden, but it is this very path you will one day look back on and marvel at the surprising strength and determination it has formed in you. Loosen your grip on what you think life should be, and begin to receive what it is. Could it be this is the path He has decided would make His words go from stale sentiments to your daily bread? Could it be this is the path that will transform your prayers from sweet memorized phrases to cries of desperation? And we all know how God feels about desperation. Could it be that God wants to empty you and then refill and remake you to not only be the mama you desire to be but to be the woman this world needs you to be?
Your life might just supply others following a few steps back with exactly what they need. Compassion, untouched joy, and inner grit may be the things God is working in you and wants you to share with others. And one day, may you look back and see this new way, this unexpected way, was the way meant for you all along.

Revolutionary Intimacy

I found this vine on our float trip and just had to bring it home! Reminds me of something I wrote after thinking about John 15.

Feet touching the ground, lungs breathing the air, 

mouth eating the food--
dwelling with the people He knit together in mamas' wombs,
speaking words to ears he hand-crafted, Holy God in the flesh,
abiding in the world He created. 

It is Immanuel’s voice, the voice of the God who is with us, that we hear in John 15. Preparing His disciples for His death, Jesus shares these words of life to teach the with-ness that will be the trademark of His kingdom.
Vines, branches, gardeners…these are not just examples, these things were created for the purpose of illustrating unseen spiritual realities. When He created vines and determined that branches must stay connected, He knew this would be a clear picture of infinite truth to finite minds. Physical realities mimic spiritual truth, not the other way around.

If God had only sacrificed His Son to be the scapegoat for the punishment of humanity’s sin, that would have been more than enough. Salvation alone displays His goodness and abundant love. But since God is an “exceedingly more” kind of God, He went further, much further.
We hear God’s call to enjoy Him in abundance throughout Scripture.

for in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form…and you have been given fullness in Christ…open wide your mouth and I will fill it…for God gives the Spirit without limit…call to Me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know. Colossians 2:9-10; Psalm 81:10; John 3:34; Jeremiah 3:33
A friend recently taught me about "dayenu." A song sung at the Jewish Passover, it's a word that means it would have been enough for us. There are fifteen stanzas in the song and each is followed by Dayenu!--it would have been enough for us: "...If He brought us out of Egypt--Dayenu!...If He had fed us manna--Dayenu!..."
This is our extravagant God.
If He had only saved us from our sin it would have been enough for us--dayenu;
if He only rescued us from our willful destruction it would have been enough for us--dayenu.
He not only redeemed us, through no merit or effort of our own, but He also deposited His Spirit within our hearts—the Spirit that would enable all who believe to live their days in Him—Yes, in the very presence of God. He has graciously poured Himself out and graciously poured Himself into us. We are in Him and He is in us.
This is a revolutionary intimacy.
When Jesus is speaking of the vine and how the branch must remain in the vine, how it bears much fruit because of the source, He is giving them, and us, the foundational secret to life with God. This is the secret to wisdom, knowledge, joy, impact…this is everything. You either bear much fruit or you can do nothing, with abiding as the determining factor.

When we abide in Christ, we make our home in Him, we live in Him. Everything is now in Christ—our daily tasks, our relationships, our dreams—in Him we live, and move, and have our being. This is more than a mindfulness that we belong to Him—lifting our thoughts to Him is where it begins but if we are willing, it is much more.

In the Old Testament, you’ll remember, the priests carried out their duties in the Holy Place. It is important to note that the presence of God was not there, but on the other side of the curtain, in the Holy of Holies. The priest could enter this Holy of Holies once a year, with many stipulations, to offer a blood sacrifice for the sins of the people.
But now (two of my favorite words in Scripture) our Savior has opened wide the Holy of Holies. Beginning with the ripped curtain at His death, Jesus has now made living in Him possible and we are allowed, urged even, to enter into the very presence of God.

You can almost hear the shout, “COME IN, DWELL WITH ME; ENTER IN AND STAY—ABIDE HERE.”
He is ever-drawing, ever-wooing us to Himself. We simply enter by faith. But we forsake the magnitude of this gift when we function outside of the veil. We still belong to Him, our anchor is still within the veil, but we are forfeiting what He has freely given us when we do not abide therein. We may still think of Him a little or read His word, but the constancy of remaining is lacking. As C.S. Lewis taught, He offers the sea but we settle for a mud pies. He has cleared the path, telling us that He is the way into the very throne room of God and we are often content to remain outside the rent veil, going about our daily routine, settling for shadows and substitutes while the life-giving power is found within, in Him--in the vine.
What a truth!—I am made clean, declared righteous, and invited to live in His presence. The power over sin—to say no to those things that I can’t seem to shake—is found there, the companionship that I’ve looked for all my life is there, the approval, the love—oh the love!, the healing, the glory—everything is within.

But most of all, God is there. The God who hand-knit me, the God who knows the intricate places of my heart better than I do, the God who has wooed me since childhood—Yes, He is there

We wait

We wait. We may wait patiently or we may learn patience along the way, but we wait. We may wait quietly or with shouts, but still we wait.

We hope. We hope, not for what we can see, but for that which remains in the not yet. We hope for the unseen, for hope that is seen is no hope at all.

We trust. We trust in His holy name--in all that He is. We trust a faithful God who has proven Himself. We trust Him with our hearts, our very lives, because He does not disappoint.

We pray, we beg, we pour out, we lament.

We lay our longings at the feet of a good God, and we wait for the time when our desires and His purposes intersect.

When our questions overshadow trust, we give our questioning hearts to Him--this God who walked and sneezed and cried and died and LIVES, this God who put on flesh to save us from our unbelief.

When we dance with doubt and mistake impatience for a friend, He makes up the difference and all the while is changing our heart, aligning it with His own.

When we are shocked as the brokenness below the surface is revealed, we look closer and find Him there, already knowing the depths of our soul, already refining and restoring. Although we are just getting acquainted with our weakness, He knew the extent of it before we took our first breath. He knew He would be our Great Substitute before we knew Him. He knew He would be The Source of our ability to wait and hope and trust.

While we wait, we see the banner of these words, wanting them to be our own:

Yes, Lord, walking in the way of Your truth, Your name and renown are the desire of our hearts.

But when this declaration would be a lie, when we want answers more than we want Him, we ask Him to refine this self-focused, short-sighted heart of ours. That He wouldn't relent until our heart reflects His.

So we wait, we hope, and we trust, with the strength and joy that He gives, for the time when He is our deepest longing and His glory is our one desire.

We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield.
In Him our hearts rejoice,for we trust in His holy name.
May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord,
even as we put our hope in You.
Psalm 33:20-22

Chasing Shadows

Seek Me and you will find Me when you seek Me with all your heart

 The words that brought such life and hope long ago echo in my mind.
If I seek the Lord, I am promised I will find Him. I have many anointed words from those lips that give life. I can read them for pleasure or instruction or knowledge, but when I read them and receive them with the desire to know The Author I find that those words will satisfy.

I read and search and remember. I bring the Author my questions and my weaknesses. He gives me understanding of who He is, how He feels and thinks. His heart is mine for the knowing.

With this knowing comes a life that is changed and a soul that is restored. He gives purpose and fulfillment and the ability to love and know that I am loved. If I seek Him

I will find what I'm looking for.

If, however, I seek something else--a feeling, a knowledge, a status, an identity, or any "thing"--then it will either elude me and I'll never find what I'm chasing, or I will finally have a grasp on it and will quickly realize I was deceived--that what seemed to promise happiness or purpose was only a lie. I will realize that I was made to seek and find the Author but settled for an elusive shadow that had no substance--a false promise of fulfillment.

When I find myself wondering why my days seem so empty, why the "fulfillment" hasn't come, then O Lord, lead me back to You, the One who first sought me.

think about the good

"Think about the good today."
These words woke me one morning. They weren’t audible, they came as a thought, but not a thought of my own. They were soft and generous as thoughts from above usually are. After quite the restless night—the result of many restless days, this simple sentence shook me. It wasn’t complex or profound, but revolutionary for sure.

I'd been feeling like I was in a type of pit for some time. God’s nearness and faithfulness were still certain in my mind, but I began to wonder if He had forgotten about me or set me aside. As a self-proclaimed realist, “looking on the bright side” when things are difficult has always bugged me. I love the part in Romans that says “Abraham…faced the fact that his body was as good as dead…” Facing the facts makes much more sense to me than the power of positive thinking.

But maybe, instead of focusing on the hard circumstances, I was being instructed to focus on the good that was also true—to the rest of that verse in Romans that says, “yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what He had promised.” He faced the facts, but then shifted to a bigger fact--the goodness and power and faithfulness of God. Maybe I had examined the difficult long enough; it was time to examine the good.
Could it be that the deliverance I’d begged for would begin with the renewal of my mind?...with my deliberate choice to follow Him out of the pit?

Sometimes God sheds His oh-so-bright light into our dark places and we sit in awe, but sometimes He shows us His light and asks us to walk to it, leaving the darkness behind.

Sometimes He says, “be still and watch my deliverance,” (Ex. 14:14) and sometimes He says, “get up and come out.” (John 5:8; 11:43) Today was the latter.

We cannot expect our lives to be free of sadness. Even if our lives were completely free from all hardship, which they’re not, the state of the world around us and the condition of human hearts can cause deep sorrow. Our world is so broken, lives around us are so broken, our own hearts are so broken. I think it was Amy Carmichael that said, we follow a crucified Savior. But we face the facts and then we face a great God who can be trusted.

One command in Scripture I love to think about is: "Delight yourself in the Lord." Yes, this is a command. We serve a God who commands us to take pleasure in Him! Delighting in the Lord is the response to a clear view of Him--God is delightful, we are told to enjoy Him. As John Piper proclaims, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.” Don’t seek joy (or satisfaction or pleasure), seek God and find all of the above. If I took my son to the candy store, opened the door and simply said, “go for it!” he would have no trouble finding delight inside. This is what God does for us, “here I am, find your delight in Me.”

All of God’s fullness is made available to us in Jesus Christ, we can either feast, snack, or fast.

If I am not finding delight in the Lord it is either because I haven’t subjected myself to His fullness—maybe because of busyness or disinterest; because I have looked in the wrong places and settled for a lesser-god, one that glitters and shines, but found to be fools gold; because I have so filled my thoughts with self that there is no room for Him or anything else; or because I have looked for pleasure in shadows--good things, even religious things, that only point to the reality found in Him.

Think about the good. Let your mind settle on who God is and His heart for you. His goodness, His love, His faithfulness---these are our soul’s delight. It takes practice when those thinking muscles are atrophied, but He gives strength with every command. We still face life’s difficulties, but the difference is that our joy is steadily anchored in Him—not because we have masterfully created a good anchor or a good rope, but because that which we are anchored in is strong and sure.

the message of psalms

Pour out. Pour it all out. This is the lesson of the Psalms. These written words, these songs--these questions, laments, celebrations--all urge us to do the same.
Nestled deep in this inspired book, we read:
pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge.
Pour it out because He is our refuge. He is a safe place to leave the contents of our hearts and minds, AND He is the one who can answer and transform you. It doesn’t say “pour out your heart because God will make your life comfortable, say yes to your every wish, or help you live your best life now.”
We pour because He can be trusted.
His thoughts toward us don’t shift depending on what we tell Him; His love doesn’t wane. When He sees our unattractive attitudes or motives, He doesn’t love us less or more because of what we pray. He doesn’t get uncomfortable when we “overshare.” His love for us has already been decided and determined, and guess what, it has nothing to do with our personality, actions, family history, or dignified prayers, but has everything to do with our belief and trust in Him. Those embarrassing or shameful parts of us?
He already knew the depth of them.
When we read that "the heart is deceitful above all things, who can understand it" (Jeremiah 17:9), it doesn’t mean our hearts deceive Him, but that they deceive us. It is in the pouring that we are given a glimpse at what He already knew. We can’t repent or ask for Spirit-enabled change for something that we are blind to.
When we continue to forsake time in prayer, we can begin to think that we're ok, that we've gotten this holiness thing down.
But then. When we see below the surface, we're appalled at what we find—jealousy? self-righteousness? Prejudice? Hatred? Materialism? Bitterness? He gives us a knowing look--this God before whom our secret thoughts are exposed (1 Corinthians 14:25) says yes.
The Psalms are the pen and paper version of the pouring. Among the countless prayers, there is also a lot of self-talk. David doesn’t shy away from difficulty, but instead puts it on paper allowing us to watch as God molds his heart. Sometimes God intervened and changed the situation but sometimes He changed David’s focus, reminding him of the truth and of God’s past faithfulness.
The Psalms vividly show how God lifts His children’s heads. The struggling Psalms are no less impactful than the praising Psalms--the struggle is relatable and beautiful, showing God for God and man for man—there is no confusion who the faithful, powerful, omniscient One is.
When it feels like everything else is dried up, we look to find that God’s love remains. His love and care for His own does not dissipate, but endures. When we are tired and only have words of complaint or fearful ramblings—God wants it all.
It is in the pouring out that we bring our authentic selves to Him—not a calculated façade. He works in vulnerability, molding the heart, the motives, the thoughts, and even the desires. Many hours are spent in prayer devoid of real heart-to-heart connection with our Maker because we are presenting who we think we should be, while our Maker knows who we really are, even when we ourselves are unaware.
Imagine a child wanting a piece of clay to become something more but withholding it from the potter. In prayer, we are holding our clay to The Potter, because He is the only One who knows what to do with it. Time spent in prayer is not only time to speak with God, but also time to avail ourselves to the One who redeems all things and changes us to reflect His image.
So today, pour it out, pour it all out, before your loving Father. And don’t be surprised when you notice a change in the contents of what you pour out…He is changing you; He is making you; He is remaking you. Your God who makes all things new will transform you from the inside out.