for when trying is utterly futile

[raging battles with the seen: part 1]

since my health adventure began, there’s been a big slice of life that has been off limits, with uninviting exceptions that i can count on one hand. an area so prominent that i unfortunately can’t avoid it, especially around the holidays. because afterall, how else are the holidays celebrated, but by indulging in all kinds of delicious FOOD, right?

i don’t need to tell you that food is a beloved topic of conversation, especially among women. IRL and online. it’s the theme of social gatherings year-round, the centerpiece of holiday parties. food is a popular topic in the stories i read my son, the songs i sing.
it. is. everywhere . . . relentlessly!

the world seems to revolve around food.
and so does mine.
just in an exhausting, overwhelming, and utterly disheartening way.

i’ll spare you the details and simply say that for the past year and a half, my body has only been able to tolerate a handful of plain foods. plain potatoes, a gluten-free pasta, a protein drink, some plain veggies, and a ration of fruit. yep, that pretty much covers it. (whether for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. because they're all the same.)

so as thanksgiving approached, i found myself grieving. grieving the loss of freedom i’ve always known. grieving the loss of comfort that i never knew i sought – until it came to a screeching hault. and grieving the loss of convenience that i desperately want back sorely miss.

and as i’ve slowly shifted from being confined to my couch to reentering life outside my four walls, the world around me looks the same as it used to.
but i’m not.
i cannot interact with it the same as i always have. and that’s been a painful adjustment.

rationally, i know i’m not missing out on any health benefits derived from sugar, MSG, and whatever else lurks in our food. but emotionally, i don't care still long for the freedom, the occasional comfort, and oh, the convenience.

and then i am challenged with this:
"we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen,
since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
- 2 Corinthians 4:18

that is one impossible tall order, but i know it’s the only way i’ll avoid giving in to the temptation to be self-absorbed, or to buy into the lie that something aside from God can satisfy me. sure, i know that.
in my head.

but oh, the road from my head to my heart. it’s an awfully long, dark, and windy one, friends. because i’m a tangible, literal, planning kinda girl.

i like the seen!!

things i can touch. smell. and of course, taste.

and i live in the seen . . . i walk through aisle after aisle in the grocery store seeing all the food i can’t have. i practically drooled at the heavenly smell of fried chicken permeating from somebody’s open car window in a parking lot recently. and what i wouldn’t give to be able to go out on a dinner date with my husband again . . .

i’m weary of this road i’m travelling.
i’m struggling hard with impatience.
and sadly, i sense my relationship with food growing bitter and resentful.

amidst the struggle, i read this from joyce meyer:
“pride prevents patient waiting because the proud person thinks so highly of himself that he believes he should never be inconvenienced in any way.”

ouch . . .

okay then. so i am called to fix my eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen.
somehow . . .

friends, i haven’t solved that dilemma. i’ve thought about it a lot. i’ve talked to God about it a lot. and i’ve been banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how to actually to fix my mind’s eyes on what is unseen, rather than on all this plethora of food that surrounds me and causes my senses to scream brutal lies of deprivation to me
all.
day.
long.

and then i remember . . .

i don’t have to figure it out.
victory doesn’t come in trying harder.
the power to overcome is only found when i stop trying.

this is a battle i can not win.
but Jesus already has.

“this is the assigned moment for Him to move into the center,
while i slip off to the sidelines.”
(john 3:30, the message)

in miles stanford’s book, the green letters (which i highly recommend), he shares this liberating truth from norman douty:

“throw down every endeavor and say, i cannot do it,
the more i try the farther i get from His likeness.
what shall i do?

ah, the Holy Spirit says, you cannot do it;
just withdraw; come out of it.
you have been in the arena, you have been endeavoring . . .
come out and sit down,
and as you sit there behold Him,
look at Him.

don’t try to be like Him, just look at Him.
just be occupied with Him.
forget about trying to be like Him.
instead of letting that fill your mind and heart, let Him fill it.”

my freedom lies in the simplicity of the gospel – when i remember that i am completely incapable of living this Christian life.

when i cease striving . . .

i invite you to read about the powerful experience that i had with God after seeking to surrender all this to Him. read raging battles with the seen: part 2 here.

because love covers a multitude of smells

today, i’m celebrating the value of community.
and sharing a story about my morning as pig pen.

as i walked through the church doors yesterday morning, i saw a friend and gave her a hug. but i didn’t realize that she had an open tin of fish in one hand – until my hand felt wet after our hug . . . apparently, she had just finished an object lesson for a children’s class, and was looking for a good place to dispose of the hazardous material.

i stopped in the bathroom to give my hands a quick wash, and then headed to the worship center. as soon as my husband and i got seated, i was knocked over by the stench of fish that had me on the verge of nausea.
i reeked!

so i exited the premises and bee lined to the restroom. only i couldn’t locate the origin of the smell. so i rubbed a soapy paper towel all over the one side of my sweater and pants, and returned to the worship center.

moments later, it became grossly apparent that all my lathering hadn’t resolved the putrid stench.

i felt helpless.
i was embarrassed.
i stunk!

in a room with about 1,000 other people, i spotted a good friend of mine. and at that moment, she was taking off her blazer.
in the seat.
right.
in.
front of me!

i broke out in the hallelujah chorus asked my husband if i should ask her to borrow it. but i was clearly asking entirely rhetorically, because without delay, i reached my hand out to her shoulder and asked. (mhmm, pretty much like the kid at the dinner table who asks, “are you gonna eat that??”)

my status quo was clearly dysfunctional, and i had spotted a new pair of shoes!
and let me tell ya, there was nothing but a desperate willing heart here.

my friend joyfully gave me the blazer off her back. which didn’t actually surprise me – because that’s the will-give-you-the-shirt-off-her-back kind of friend she is.

so i disturbed the people sitting next to us now a third time hit the restroom yet again. and i returned a new woman.
the blazer fit.
it matched.
and it was cute!

and you know, friends, that’s exactly what Christ does for us. He rescues us from the overwhelming stench of our sin, and clothes us with new life. too often, we keep rubbing our soapy paper towels all over our messy hearts to try to make them clean. but the stench of sin will always remain unless our hearts are washed in the cleansing blood of Christ, and we are clothed anew.

as i sat there grateful for my new look (and smell), our pastor was speaking about none other than the importance of community. reminders to the body of Christ that we need each other. that we’re dependent on one another.
with my eau de tropicale, i was living proof. i was exhibit A.
and that was far from the first time.

community is a place where we remind each other of God’s strong love.
a place where we have the freedom to ask, the assurance of support, and the opportunity to bless.

true friends offer reflections of God’s glory as we live out life with them.

whether it’s through their gestures of support, their faithful prayers, their words of encouragement, or their inspiring example of God's power as they persevere through life’s hardest trials.

true friends live out the essence of the gospel.

because the purpose of friendship, the purpose of community, is that hearts and affections are drawn to Jesus.

thank you, my friend, for loving on me with a beautiful, practical portrayal of the gospel. (and all those around me enthusiastically thank you, too!)

flying shoes & dysfunctional status quos

“No good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”(Psalm 84:11)

A few months ago, I bought some new shoes for my son. I successfully maintained my long-standing precedence of buying shoes that were too small, then going back to the store days later to exchange them for the next size up. Only this time, they didn’t have a ½ size bigger. So rather than embrace that there are other stores that exist in the world aside from Target and Wal-Mart naturally, we got a whole size bigger. And they seemed to be the right size. Until they started flying off his feet when put in playground motion.

Being the cheap frugal mom I am, I figured we’d just give it a little time, and he’d grow into them.
Right? . . .

At first, he was inconvenienced with having to retrieve his shoe and put it back on – multiple times when playing. So if you would have asked him a few months ago if he’d like a pair of shoes that fit better, he would have welcomed the opportunity.
But then, he adapted.

Several months weeks passed, and my husband and I continued to witness the case of the flying shoe. So I asked my son if it happened every day at school, and he very matter-of-factly explained that he has simply started to run slower to reduce the incidents.
He was compensating to accommodate a wrong fit.

When I heard that, I felt like a loser mom and horribly guilty badly, so I decided that it was time. Time that he had the right fit.

So I decided to take him to a whole new world shoe store on the way home from school today. And I eagerly anticipated announcing the good news to him receiving a hero's fanfare in response. It was going to be one of those special moments as a parent when I intentionally affirmed that his needs are important. I couldn’t wait to verbalize with all sincerity of heart that now, he can run as fast as he wants to.
That he doesn’t have to be held back, anymore!
It was an opportunity to give my son a gift of freedom, and I was fully embracing it.

But my son?
Um, not so much.

With a likely glow of pride satisfaction, I reached out to my son’s heart with the news this afternoon. And rather than embracing the fullness of the freedom at hand, or at least delighting in a much-improved situation, he resisted. He started to persuasively explain to me that his current shoes are fine. No, they’re actually great! In fact, they’re not falling off as much.
Only “zero – one” times!
A day. . .

Needless to say, we proceeded to the shoe store to remedy the situation. But I started to think – that’s exactly what we do as adults. We adapt to things that aren’t a healthy fit for our souls. Fear, patterns in relationships, comfort zones, emotional idols.

At first, we know something’s not best. We’re aware.Then, we begin to compensate in life to accommodate the pattern. To make it less frustrating.
It grows on us, becomes a part of us. We get comfortable with it.
And consider it good.

And then, God offers us better.

Maybe an opportunity to throw off chains of fear, stretch out our arms, and experience the thrill of a trust fall into His arms.

Or a gentle nudging from the Holy Spirit to take that first step.

An invitation from Him to be fragile, knowing full well that our souls are safely in the palm of His strong, but gentle hand. Nurtured, cared for, and protected.

The courage walk by faith, when sight’s screams are perpetual, and relentless.

And what do we do? We resist. I do. I start to tell Him all the reasons why my current this or that is fine. That I really don't want Him to move my cheese am okay with the status quo.

But what if?
What if instead, we said yes.
And freely received.

The next time our Father offers you or I a new pair of shoes, friend, let’s see them through His eyes.
And welcome them.

Let’s embrace the opportunities to clothe ourselves with His best, and the freedom to freely RUN!

the relief in failure

"For many, the deepest growth in humble, joyful reliance on God will be in the context of the most bloody battles, which appear to be tragic losses, and not glorious victories.”
- Dan Allender, Bold Love

And that right there, my friend, pretty much sums up the final six weeks, or so, of my 2011.

Bloody battles in my heart and mind that are downright overwhelming.
Battles of my expectations that constantly vie to snuff out the warm glow of grace.
Expectations of life. Expectations of God.
Discontentment emerging from unmet expectations of what I think God should do for me – rather than reveling in the wonder of who He is.

Battles against the temptation to be self absorbed. Usually lost.
Battles with feelings of entitlement that leave trails of relational destruction.
The steady assault of self-centered thoughts.

In my estimation, tragic losses for sure.
And in most battles, the enemy is me.

I haven’t even been able to figure out the right strategy for combat . . . Do I need to adjust my thinking? Or simply receive God’s comfort amidst the challenges? How do I overcome my feelings with healthy perspective? And how do I walk by faith – when I feel like I can’t conjure it?

Amidst the chaos on the battleground and the noise of clanking armor on this awkward soldier, there is a still, small voice.

Bring it to Me. Bring it ALL to Me.

Your confusion.
Your chaos.
Your sorrow.
Your defeats.

Because you can’t win these battles.

But I already have.

just one more time

even though i've been slowly regaining strengh from my health adventure that began last fall, i still struggle hard to see the forest through the trees many days. especially when it comes to missing out on opportunities with my husband or son because of my limitations.

but the other night, God, in His mercy, enabled me to see the captivating forest that surrounds me amidst the trees of my desires.

i was dropping off my first-grade son at a weekly church program. and after we entered the gym together, we exchanged a hug and a kiss before he ran off to dive into the night’s activities. but after he began to run, he paused.

and he looked back at me.

and smiled.

as if to say good-bye and i love you — just one more time.

at that moment in time, the Lord blessed us with yet another relational gift when our eyes and our smiles confirmed our deep love and appreciation for the other. a very simple and ordinary moment in time – that became extraordinary.

because i beheld it.

in God’s tender mercy as my Father, He enabled my mommy heart to recognize that i was receiving a precious treasure in that moment. a gift not to be taken for granted.

admittedly, my heart bled a little (okay, a lot!) at the thought that there will likely come a time when my son doesn’t stop to pause and look back at mommy like that. but i also can’t help but think that if that’s how my heart felt in that moment, how much more must it bless our Father’s heart when we pause?
and look into His tender eyes.

and amidst our running from here to there,
express to Him that we love Him.

just one more time.

because pride cometh before the fender bender

I used my GPS for the first time the other day. Well, I had semi-used it once before when I was stuck in traffic and knew how to press the button with the home icon calculated an alternate route. But this was the first time I actually keyed in a destination. And I was figuring it out fine, except for the view. Its default was to show me only the next turn, and I knew that wasn’t going to work because I pride myself in being a responsible driver I’d have to constantly take my eyes off the road. But I didn’t have time to fuss with it or else I’d be responsible no longer (gasp!) late. So off I drove.

And minutes later, I became a statistic.

Because less than a mile from home, I got into an accident. I was so focused on confirming my right turn with the GPS that I forgot to look up (and left, in particular).

Fortunately, the other car swerved, so the damage was minor and everyone was okay. But in my heart and mind, that wasn't the point there was something that still troubled me. And I am not one to get fired up, but I was angry. No, I was furious. But, um, I didn’t know why.

And before I disclose my insecurities go any further, let me be clear that I still regret take full responsibility for choosing to use the stinkin' GPS, for taking my eyes off the road, and for hitting the other car. Yes, I always have a choice.
(That public service announcement brought to you by my head.)

But as for my heart, I felt wronged. Even betrayed.
(Yes, folks, I realize that I was experiencing intense emotions toward an inanimate object, but just humor me for a few minutes, mmkay?)

So after praying about it and toggling between tears and rage talking to my husband about it, I realized that because I am still trying to blame the GPS didn’t have time to figure out how to change the view (or go inside to print directions from mapquest), I felt like I didn’t have much choice but to use the GPS “as is” three. measly. yards. at a time. Like I was forced to do something that I knew was irresponsible. And then to add salt to the wound, I ended up the bad guy!
The irresponsible one . . .

Woah.
We need to stop right there, friends. Because that is one big ouch, with a capital O.
I was irresponsible? . . .
And THAT, my friends, is where my pride cries out like a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum draws the line.

Because far be it from me that I ever appear fallible irresponsible. And even farther be it from me that I ever actually AM human irresponsible. I make smart choices, not foolish choices. I use my turn signals. I follow the rules. That’s where I've wrongly placed my safety and security who I am! And according to that (false) premise, the GPS clearly violated my identity. The accident, a direct blow to my perceived value.

Fortunately, God is greater than my tantrums pride. And He reminded me that life’s not about doing the right things.

WHAT?!?!

Did I just say what I think I just said?

I need to say that one again.
The goal in life isn't doing the right things.
That is not why we are here.
(Excuse me, but did that thought just rock your world like it did mine??)

This is about a relationship, friends. A relationship with God Almighty.
The One who rejoices over you with singing.
The One who has never stopped loving you since the beginning of time.
The One who knows your weaknesses, and loves you anyway.
The One who offers safety amidst life’s storms.
The One with whom you can entrust your whole soul – and know that it is always protected.
The One who can heal your broken heart.

As I’ve shared before, responsibility isn’t bad; it’s good. Very good! But ultimately, life is not about being responsible, friends. It’s about God.

I am valued not because of any responsibility that comes out of me, but because of the glory that was placed IN me the moment I was created in God’s image.

In Christ, God doesn’t see me as responsible or irresponsible. When God looks at me, all He sees is Christ. In all of His righteousness. All of His spotlessness. Only when I remember that my identity is safe and secure in Christ is my soul at rest. For He is the only identity that cannot be shaken.

Lord, help me to not be so preoccupied with doing the right things turns in life that I forget to look up, that I forget to keep my eyes on what really matters. May I be forever preoccupied with You.

The Fixer-Upper Marriage

I had a unique opportunity the other day. An opportunity to see current pictures of the first home that my husband and I lived in – 15 years ago. (Talk about a throw back in time!) It was vacant, had just been renovated, and it looked fantastic!

The contrast between that home’s condition “then” and “now” was so apparent that I got fixated on it took me a little while to move past the first picture. And as I envied gazed into the sight of newly-refinished hardwoods, chocolate-glazed kitchen cabinets, and a fresh coat of paint, I thought, “That’s nicer than where we live now – 15 years later!” We've digressed. There’s something wrong with this whole picture . . . (I know, such a thankful spirit, huh?)

The reality? The materials now featured in that home are nicer than that of our current home. And materials aside, there was no denying how foreign it appeared clean it was.
No clutter.
No marks on the hardwoods.
No scuffs on the paint.
(Did I mention no clutter??)

Since this happened so nostalgically just days before our 15th wedding anniversary, I couldn’t help but take a retrospective look at the couple that occupied those two homes.
Same people. Two very different points in time.

In the one home, a young (sigh) newlywed couple with pretty much all of life ahead of them. And in the other home, a couple who has struggled walked through 15 years of life together. And you know what I concluded? The way those two homes look: Pretty much the same as the marriage.

Because since we’ve been married, we’ve certainly had seasons that have looked much like the newly-renovated house. Incredibly bright days of joy that energized like rays of the sun. Times beautifully painted with vivid colors of laughter. Memories woven together in rich fabric of personal and relational growth.

But we’ve also had times when the leaves have changed their colors, and we’ve found our home in the middle of harsh, cold winters. Times when the supporting beams of life seemed to be collapsing around us. Crises that left us in survival mode – long term.
Times that changed us. And the way we look at the world.

And if our collective walls could speak, they would also attest to the interior realities:
Scuffs of impatience.
Stains of selfish choices.
Dings of disappointment.
Cracks from responses lacking grace.
The constant clutter of my expectations.

Original structure unchanged. But the risk of damage clearly revealed.
Vulnerabilities ruthlessly exposed.

The newlywed home looks altogether appealing and intact. But this marriage home often looks worn.
And then I remember. That home is vacant.
It is only spotless because nobody lives there yet.

So yes, our marriage often looks weathered, messy, and needing repairs. But those marks are evidence of our humanity. Evidence of life.
Every scuff testifies to a life lived – together.
Every crack a reminder that we desperately need God
to pull the whole thing off.

So has our marriage has been wedded bliss? Nope! It hasn't.
It’s been better.

It's been a construction site for our hearts.
A journey of surrendering our wants for God’s best.
A place where we are reminded that God is more interested in our holiness, than our happiness.
Sacred ground where we abide, grow, protect, trust, hope, and persevere.

I'm not afraid of the mess, anymore!
I'm honored to live out this truth in marriage with my husband – stains, leaks, storms, & all.

a brutal four-letter word

Every once in a while, there's a particular word that comes out of my mouth that I have a real problem with. I genuinely try to avoid it with a passion, but there are simply times when it's called for. During those times, I take a deep breath, and reluctantly let it out. At which point I can count on fear and trepidation to settle in quite well.

And the word, my friends?
Need
A seemingly innocent four-letter word, don’t you think?
But frankly, I don't like it. One. Bit.

I’ve had to contend with that word a lot, especially over the past year as I’ve walked through a health crisis that literally swept me off my feet. And my aversion to admitting my needs was, once again, in my face when my husband recently cancelled an important business trip because I wasn’t feeling well. {Mind you, I’m still working on getting totally back on my feet, so when I say that I wasn’t feeling well, I’m unfortunately not referring to a cold.}

While I was definitely relieved with his decision, I was more disheartened that he had to miss out on something important – on my account. It was clearly a sacrificial gift of love that made such a statement about my importance to him, but admittedly, it was very hard to receive.  (There’s that receive word again . . . )

I know I’m not the only one who finds it difficult to receive, so why IS that? And why is doing the unthinkable asking for help one of the most humbling experiences in life? I shared recently that coming to terms with my needs is painful because it requires me to set aside my pride and admit that I’m not actually, wait for it, super-human! . . . (Gasp!)
My needs are a humbling reminder of my humanity.
Whether physical, emotional, or spiritual needs.

Then add to my pride the messages that surround us every day . . .

We’re told that we always have to be strong.
But God tells us that it is in our weakness, not our strength, that His power is made perfect.
(Not superb. Perfect! )

We're taught that needy is a bad word with strong connotations, so we learn to be independent and self-sufficient.
But God says that without Him, we can do – nothing.

We think what matters is what we do.
God says that what matters is who He is.

So after hearing messages our entire lives about needing to be strong and self-sufficient, how is anybody supposed to know that it’s okay to be anything less than super-human, let alone have the courage to ask for help? Or to know that it’s okay to be fallible?

And this, my friends, is precisely where I’d like to turn the social norms upside down.
Truth: Needs are a powerful opportunity
to experience God first-hand.

So guess what! That means they’re not actually BAD! (Double Gasp!!)

Because what makes all the difference is where we primarily direct our needs. When we first and foremost entrust God with our needs, He begins to build on the beautiful story that He’s been writing in our lives all along. But this time, He adds this exciting twist:
When we lose, we actually gain.

You see, when we are willing to lose our pride, we gain immense freedom:
Freedom from the pressure to have it all together
Freedom to accept that we have needs
Freedom to make mistakes
Freedom to trust Him
And freedom to receive grace. Lots of it.

We gain the thrill of experiencing the fullness of God’s glory and love as we allow Him to meet our needs. And THAT, my friends, is why the Bible says that we can actually embrace and celebrate our needs and weaknesses.

So call me crazy, but with that being the case, might we even dare to consider that our needs, our short-comings, our longings, even our unmet dreams – are actually good? . . .

I know first-hand how difficult it is to have needs. But I want you to hear this:
In Christ, you are fully loved and accepted just as you are – including all of your needs.
And hurts.
And disappointments.
And struggles.
We can trust God with all those things, and know that He is for us.
Don’t ever let your heart or mind tell you otherwise.

So when I focus on God instead of what I have or don’t have, He will meet my needs. No, He will exceed them.

So here’s my radical proposal:
Rather than being afraid of our needs, why not embrace them as precious opportunities to experience the supernatural?
Why not take the risk to share a struggle with a friend?
Why not take off the pretty “I have it all together” masks that we hide behind, and instead be an inspiration for others as to how to cling to God in the middle of life’s hurts, disappointments, and sheer mess?

When we’re unguarded, we give also give others a precious gift. The gift of our trust. And the same “permission” to be human. Because the best of friendships are based on truth, not pretense, and offer a safe place to be real and vulnerable.

However, as you boldly take steps toward authenticity, do not forget this, friends:
Whether others handle our vulnerability with the care it deserves or not, we are not defined by how others respond to us in life. Our identity must be anchored in Christ alone or else this whole transparency thing becomes one big threat.

Mother Teresa once said,
“Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable.
Be honest and transparent anyway.”

So what do you say, friends? Will you take the risk with me to be open about our needs, our hurts, our struggles in this journey called life? And unlock the doors to greater freedom and healing?

Who’s in??


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i am the older brother

Recently at church, our teacher taught on the story of the prodigal son. At the end of the lesson, he said that the following Sunday, we'd discuss the prodigal son’s older brother. I immediately knew I was in trouble I'd get a lot out of it.

While the Bible doesn’t say a whole lot about the older brother, what it says speaks volumes to me – because I can all too easily see myself in him. The older brother was the responsible one. The dependable one. The goody two shoes. He likely did what he was told, and never caused his father any trouble. What parent wouldn’t be proud, right?

But the Bible tells us that while people size us up by our actions, God looks at our hearts. (Gulp.) And that, my friends, is what turns the whole story (of life!) upside down for me.

Because I don’t know about you, but I tend to view life through lenses of doing, rather than being. Every day, my nature vies to prioritize tasks over people. Check lists over community. Running, rather than resting. Tangible accomplishments over the unseen and the eternal. Doing things for God, rather than fostering a relationship with God.

Responsibility, over relationship . . .

Pursuing good, while missing out on best.

So what’s the matter with being a responsible individual and accomplishing things? Absolutely nothing.

However, when I allow those accomplishments to be what drive me in life, what thrills me most, I miss out on something greater. I miss out on experiencing the eternal, the immeasurable. And all the while my identity and security and perceived acceptance can subtly slip into being dangerously defined by the things that I do, rather than who I am. Or more accurately, who Christ is, in me.

Just this past year, God allowed me to go through a long period when I literally couldn’t do. A sudden health crisis left me bed-ridden and unable to take care of myself at all for more than six months. And now, more than a year later, I’m still limited in what I can and can’t do. And let me tell ya, friends – Have I ever wanted to DO! But do you know what God has wanted for me during this time? He’s simply wanted me to BE. To rest and revel in His presence.

It’s hard to rest, isn’t it? Because at the same time that we struggle to prioritize being over doing, our culture shouts lies like these about value:

Resting is a waste of time . . . Productivity is always priority . . . Sacrifice relational sensitivity for the sake of efficiency . . . And your value is determined by your contribution to society.

In our do-more society, we’re practically obsessed by doing.

Take a moment to consider the following:
Think about the myriad of things that you do in your life. Everything you do each day at work, at home, with family, friends. All of it. If you were to put it all in list form, it would be a lot, wouldn’t it?

Now I want you to imagine not doing any of those things. None.

And what are you left with?

That is one difficult question, friends. But thinking through it helps me remember who I am apart from what I do. Because if I am not able to recognize my personal value without any association of doing something, then I am at risk of elevating responsibility to an unhealthy level – and missing out on the extraordinary in life.

Again, doing is good. And so is responsibility. They're important! But what ultimately matters is why we do what we do. And therein lies what we truly believe about ourselves, and God.

So here’s the truth that God is ever so patiently establishing in my head and heart, friends: Because I am made in His image, I have immense value whether or not I ever accomplish or achieve anything. There isn’t anything that I can do to add to it (or take away from it).

So the question is – Will I have the guts to rest while everyone around me sprints? To prioritize relationship over responsibility? Or will I settle for merely being responsible and accomplishing great things?

Dismissing a Miracle -- as a Mistake

A couple of years ago, I sat with some test results in my hands that were downright scary. Off-the-charts results in territory so dangerous that doctors’ offices across the country have been compelled to post visible warnings about this threat to one’s health.

Those disturbing results have haunted me the past two years, not knowing what type of internal damage was occurring, or what long-term ramifications could result. Or even short term! Not really knowing much of anything except that this was a serious threat. All the while wishing that somebody could just tell me what in the world I could do to fix it.

But they couldn’t. Even after enduring two full years of this silent danger, I have yet to hear any clear solutions for how to treat it. Maybe because it’s a rare problem. Or maybe because there aren’t any solutions.
I honestly don’t know.

This summer, the test was repeated to have a current snapshot. I tried to be realistic and not expect any change, but my longing for healing vied for hope, despite the reality. I unsuccessfully tried to shift my focus to the other areas being tested. But of course, when I received the results, my eyes instinctively went straight to the danger zone.

Let me pause right here. Because I don’t think it’s any coincidence that a week or two before, my son started a wonderful habit of reminding my husband and I conveniently, after we say no to something, that all things are possible . . .

Friends, the threat was completely GONE.
Not a lower risk than before. Not even low-risk numbers.
Normal.

I was dumbfounded. Confused, really.
So did I jump for joy? Cry tears of relief? Or pause to thank God right away? No, I actually didn’t do any of those things. You want to know my ongoing first response?
I questioned it.

{How in the world can this be accurate? I didn’t do anything to cause this change. What if the lab made a mistake? . . . }

God was handing me a gift, and I was having a hard time receiving it.
I was holding a miracle.
But considering it a mistake.

It’s hard to receive, isn’t it? Because when we receive, we make that painful choice to set aside our pride by admitting that we’re human and have needs. (And that’s certainly another post for another time because this post is about 3 words away from crossing the line from blog to book.)

As I was pondering my response, it occurred to me that my choice as to how to respond to this gift mirrors the most important choice that each person has to make in her lifetime. It, too, is a choice of receiving.

Let me explain . . .
The Bible says that we are all “sick” with a nature that is prone to sin, which severs our ability to be in the presence of a holy God. If you read the Bible, you’ll notice that it also says that there is absolutely nothing that we can do about that nature.
Nothing.
All of the striving to do incredible things in and for this world doesn’t even change it. We simply cannot fix the bond that’s been broken between us and God.
But God has.

Compelled by His limitless love for us, and His desire to be in a relationship with us, God reached out and gave us a gift. An unsurpassed gift. He made a way to restore the relational bond that was broken.

When He sent Jesus to earth, He sent Him with the sole mission of reconciliation. Because when Jesus died, He procured our pardon from sin. And because our sin nature was crucified with Christ, the cross is where we find our deliverance from the power and domination of that sin nature.
Life, from death.
And when Jesus rose from the dead, He secured our new life of freedom as forever with Him for all eternity.

And after this miraculous display of God’s power of life over death, itself, the Bible says, “many did not believe” . . .

The choice is always ours, friends:
Attempt to sort out the mysteries of life rationally.
Or embrace the miracles for what they are, and set aside our pride to receive them.

Admittedly, I’m still struggling with the embracing part of this recent miracle, but my heart is set on walking by faith and not by sight.

So how about you, friend? Ever try to rationalize the supernatural? Or written off a miracle as an outright mistake?


Disclaimer/Confession:
Even though this story has a happy ending, it is still tender territory for me. As such, I would be wise to not answer the obvious “what WAS it?” question, because unfortunately, that takes my mind down trains of thought that can easily lead to lies, instead of truth. Thank you for understanding, and letting me be vulnerable with you about that.