Reaching

My littlest one, at 6 months, has mastered rolling over, scooting and is displaying a tenacity for acquiring what he wants. To encourage him, I put things just out of his reach, and make him work to get it. I know in the long run, this will encourage him to crawl, but to an outsider, I can see how this would be perceived as cruel. Hearing his little voice grunt, while his legs flail and he tries to get his hand, which only cooperates 70% of the time, to move toward the object of desire, is obviously a struggle for him. Often, he looks at me, squinches up his whole face and lets out a displeased cry. I usually respond by coming in close, with a big smile and telling him, "You got it, buddy. You can do it. Just reach for it."

Looking at him, reaching out in earnest for what he wants, my heart is drawn to Mark 5:25-34, where we read about the woman who bled for 12 years.  I've read her story dozens of times, but I imagine it went something like this: She was on her way home, trying to stay out of everyone's way, subtly whispering "unclean" to anyone who got too close. Suddenly, there was a crowd coming down the street, and she started to panic, wondering how she was going to get around it. Maybe she could stand in an alley and wait for it to pass. Then, she saw Jesus. She'd heard of Jesus! In that moment, she just knew in her spirit that if she just could touch the hem of his robe, her suffering would be no more. At the risk of punishment from religious leaders, she pressed into the crowd. She bit her tongue as she moved toward Him, refusing to let this moment pass by her. He seemed in a hurry, and there wasn't much time, so she stretched her hand out, fingers splayed, reaching with all her might.... Her fingertips grazed his clothes and !!!!!!! For the first time, in 12 years, relief. It took everything she had to keep from exposing herself, from laughing and sobbing and grabbing the nearest person, saying, "Do you know what just happened?"

"Who touched me?" The color drained from her face, her exuberance stifled by Jesus' question. The crowd stopped, everyone asking what was happening. The disciples, confused, looked at Jesus and said, "Umm, there's a whole crowd following you to Jairus' house. It could have been anyone. Why is this important?"

But no, Jesus wouldn't take another step without knowing who had grabbed him, and a little girl was dying waiting for him. 12 years of suffering, only to likely be stoned to death for stealing the power of God. She stepped forward and fell at his feet, hoping to land on his mercy. She was trembling with fear, stammering the story of the last 12 years, and how every doctor she'd been to made things worse. She told him that she saw him and knew He carried the power of God, and she didn't have time to ask him, but just knew in her heart she would be healed if she just touched him, and... and...

"Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free from your suffering." Then Jesus and the crowd went on their way, leaving her gobsmacked, wiping away her tears, free in body and soul.

I think more of us have encounters with Jesus in our lives that are like this than we think. We're just trying to make it through the day, largely ignoring the gnawing in our hearts and minds of our current status, whatever it may be. Suddenly, we see God's hand move in someone's life, and it reminds us that He can move in ours too. We are then left with a choice: We either follow the inclination that says, "I should reach for what I think He has for me," or we follow the sarcastic undertone of the world that suggests these are simply carrots being dangled in front of our faces to keep us following along, never receiving the satisfaction that our souls and bodies long for. If there's one thing this woman's story has taught me, it's this, Jesus doesn't have time to dangle our heart's deepest desires in front of us, but He may absolutely put them just outside of ourselves and ask us to reach, and reach with all that we have, believing that it's worth the risk, worth the work and worth the growth. 

Many people I know are in seasons where they hear the Father asking, "Do you want this? Come get it." A couple friends picked up their family and moved to Nebraska last week. Another is accepting a dream job and relocating their family to Australia for 3 years. Even my little family is being asked to reach beyond our hangups and in faith take hold of Abba's blessing, which has been confirmed again and again over our lives. Could the Father have just provided all his blessing within our current situations if He wanted to? Absolutely; But like I'm encouraging my littlest to move, He's teaching us how to press into trust and grow beyond our current capacity. I believe He has the same in mind for you.

Abba, so many of us see you as Lucy from Peanuts, who will show us the football and then pull it away when we go to kick it. I thank you that you are a God who when your children ask for bread, You do not give them a stone. Give us the confidence this woman from your gospel had, that You are filled with goodness, and all we have to do is reach for what You put in front of us, and we shall find satisfaction. I ask that you allow the gnawing thoughts and feelings surface, and place discontent in the hearts of those you're calling into growth, that they would risk reaching. I ask for encouragers to surround them and repeat Your heart over them, "You can do it! Keep reaching! You almost have it!" Let these experiences draw Your people closer to Your heart, and the peace, relief, and faith gained would leave those surrounding us in awe. In Jesus name, amen.

I couldn't find the name of the artist, so if anyone knows who they might be, please let me know so I can give them credit. 

Stop asking

My toddler does this thing that drives me absolutely crazy: He asks me for the same thing, over and over, regardless of whether or not I've answered him. If it was to get my attention, like in Family Guy when Stewie tortures Lois with variations of "Mommy" until he's acknowledged, I would understand, because he wouldn't be getting what he wants from me. But when I've given him my attention, thought about his request, probably even said yes, and he continues to ask, it brings me to a near breaking point. I know he doesn't understand, and that he thinks persistence might hurry me up, but all I want to do is grab him and say, "Kid, I gave you my answer. Stop asking."

Do you ever hear that from the Father? I think when we have a request, we think of the Canaanite woman who asked Jesus to heal her daughter (Matthew 15) who was first told to go away and then granted her request because of her faith and persistence. We get in our mind that if we really, really, really want something, we should keep asking, and our persistence will make God grant our request.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I was cleaving to persistence about staying at my current job, and while I was again, asking God to bless the day, he responded with, "Lisa, I want you to stop asking me to bless what you're bent on doing, and start asking me to bless what I told you to do." WHOA!!! Now that turns into a whole new set of questions, but it was clear his message was, "No. Now stop asking." It wasn't until I re-vamped my resume and actually sent it out that He gave me peace, and spoke to my heart that everything was going to be ok.

I'm not saying persistence doesn't have it's place. The story of the Canaanite woman shows that if you haven’t gotten your answer yet, by all means, keep asking, but the rest of scripture seems to suggest that when God gives you an answer, even if it’s an answer you don’t necessarily like or want, believe that He has revealed His will on the subject and accept it. A great example of this is Paul, in 2nd Corinthians 12, who was given something he called a thorn in his flesh and a messenger of Satan to torment him. He said 3 times, he asked God to take it from him, and all the Father said was, “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul still didn't want this thorn, this tormentor, but instead of continuing to ask, he accepted that God's goodness and power was going to be perfected in the midst of his situation.

For me, it comes down to two things: Do I believe the Father is good and has my best in mind and do I believe He is capable in either filling in the cracks or making good on His promises? James says, “If any of you lack wisdom he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double minded man, unstable in all he does.” (James 1:5-8)

To ask for His wisdom and doubt His answer is as good as not asking, and the Spirit isn’t interested in volleying “are you sure”s. This is not to say don’t ask for confirmation, as John tells us to test what we believe to be the Holy Spirit. However, there is  difference in asking if we heard correctly and doubting we heard at all, especially if we don’t like the answer. It might sound harsh, but much like our children questioning our intentions, understanding, and  reliability is met with disengagement on our part, the Father disengages with doubt. The writer of Hebrews sums this up by saying, "Without faith, it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe he exists, and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." (Heb 11:6)

Abba, thank You for being generous with your wisdom. Reveal in my heart those things you want to water and grow and bring to fruition, and give me the grace to walk away from the things you've told me to stop asking about. I pray that you give me faith to receive when you reveal Your will in my life, and cling to the knowledge that Your thoughts and ways are higher than mine. I trust you, Father. In Jesus name.

Getting into your uncomfort zone

I took my 2 year old into the pool for the first time this week. He's actually been in a pool before, but just on an inflatable mat where my husband and I pushed him around. This time, he was actually in the water. Dressed in his beach gear, wearing a little life vest, I coaxed him down the stairs while he was holding onto the bar, and when it was time to actually get into the water, he wrapped his arms and legs around my body with all his might, screaming every time I motioned him away from me. Finally, my saying, "Buddy, trust me. Mama won't let go" got through to him and he let me establish some space between us. After that, we had such a good time swirling around in the water, and he got to experience his first lesson in swimming.

I kept wondering what would our time have been like had he continued to cling to me? On one hand, he would have still left his comfort zone and gotten in, but on the other, he would have absolutely missed the point of being in a pool. This is like so many things that the Father leads me to, where I'm willing to leave my comfort zone, but if the experience makes me too uncomfortable, I'll wrap around the emotional equivalent of a child's blankey, something safe and familiar, and refuse to let go. I'll rationalize that I absolutely need this, and that without it, I will drown. In those moments, it's not so much about leaving my comfort zone, it's about getting into my uncomfort zone.

In John 9, Jesus comes across a man who was born blind. He spat in some dirt and wiped the mud on the man's eyes. He then told him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam. The man did, and he received his sight. I imagine this man, having heard about Jesus, thinking, "Ok, he's going to touch me and I'll be healed." Letting Jesus put mud on his eyes was definitely out of his comfort zone, as that doesn't seem like the way sight would be restored. But it was when Jesus told him to go wash, he was asked to get into his uncomfort zone, where he would need a friend to walk him through the city with mud over his eyes, probably fielding questions along the way. He could have decided that if Jesus wanted to heal him, he would have just done it and told Jesus thanks, but no thanks. He could have thought Jesus' method was foolish, and wiped the mud off his face and continued his life the way it had always been.

Simply going out of his comfort zone wasn't going to lead him to receiving his sight. He had to decide if Jesus was trustworthy enough to fully embrace the experience he was being asked to. Would he be made a spectacle of gullibility? Or would being made uncomfortable lead to the miraculous healing his heart always desired?

What is God calling you to, that you've dipped your toes in, but haven't dived into? What are you hanging onto that's preventing you from getting your breakthrough? I encourage you today to let some space be established between you and your safety net. Psalm 37 says, "The blameless spend their days under the LORD's care, and their inheritance will endure forever. In times of disaster, they will not wither, in times of famine, they will enjoy plenty" (vs 18 & 19.) It also says that the LORD makes firm the step of the one who delights in Him, and though they stumble, they will not fall, because He upholds them (vs 23 & 24.)

You can open your arms because He's holding onto you. He won't let go. 

Abba, thank you for calling me to greater things. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to partner in receiving all that You have for me. Help me to trust that because You're hanging onto me, I can fully pursue what You're calling me to. May the breakthroughs in my life bring You glory, and be a testimony to many of Your faithfulness. In Jesus' name.

Stay with your brother

My firstborn was the type who occasionally liked to be put down, next to a window, so I imagine he could contemplate all that it meant to be a baby. My second is nothing like that. He likes to be held all the time, and if he can't be, he needs to be as close to someone else as possible. When no one is in his range of sight, he starts to cry a wail that I can only describe as expressing forlorn. I've found myself recently trying to employ my toddler in helping keep my littlest one company, so I can put him down and do something like make dinner. It starts off well enough, with me giving him a rattle and telling him to shake it for the baby. While they're occupied with each other, I sneak away and start something. My toddler realizes I'm missing, throws the rattle in the little rocker and follows after me. The baby sees he's alone and starts crying and I'm guiding my toddler back to the living room, pleading with him, stay with your brother.

I find it interesting that at a mere 3 months old, my son's cries echo the sentiments of God, who when He created a companion for Adam, stated that it's not good to be alone (Gen 2:18.) In my experience, just living beats down the cry that says, "don't leave me," because vulnerability often leads to rejection. Even just the fear of judgment is enough to jade ourselves against community, and create a system where we don't need anyone for anything. The sad part is I see this jaded viewpoint expressed over and over again against the church.

The writer of Hebrews said, "Consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, and not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching." (Heb 10:24-25) Why did they make it a point to highlight that some make it a habit of not showing up? Could it be because even back then the excuses of  encountering hypocrisy, citing a personal relationship with God, or just not having the time kept believers apart?

Why is specifically a faith community so important anyway? Why can't I just have a good relationship with my coworkers and my friends and my time with God be just be me and Him?

This world can be gnarly sometimes, and there are many entrapments. I would hope that if one of the boys were about to do something they would get in trouble for, their brother would say, "Hey, don't do it." Worst case scenario, they do it anyway, and their brother is there to help them clean up the mess. Or what if a bully tried to hurt one of them? Wouldn't it be better if their brother was there to help? In the same way, we're called to support one another and deal with temptation, sin, and spiritual attack in each other's lives.

Solomon makes this point in Ecclesiastes when he says,"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

That phrase, "Woe to him who falls alone and has not another to lift him up" weighs so heavily on my heart. So many Christ followers encounter temptation, sin or the spiritual attack and have no one around them who understands what that even means, and are left to struggle with it alone. Your brothers and sisters are here. We understand. We want to lift you up.

Another reason is you are vital to the full functioning capacity of the body of Christ. Yes, You.

Paul said, "That there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it." (1 Cor 12:25-27) He didn't make a distinction that this only applied to those who show up. If I lost an eye or ear, an arm or leg, I would still be a relatively functioning human being, but I would never be one-hundred percent. Think of all those Christ followers, who have so much to contribute, and don't show up. Think about how that contributes to the dysfunction and lack of potency in the body. Your presence matters so much.

If you're not part of a faith community, or are considering leaving your current one, I invite you to join ours. If you don't happen to live in Southern California, reach out and I'm sure we could find you a church that you would feel right at home in. Your brothers and sisters are there to make sure you never fall alone, and we need you in order to reach the corners of this world only you have access to. If you are part of a faith community, I pray that you would find strength within the body, and that you would be encouraged, equipped, and spurred on toward love and good deeds. I pray that the words of David would be true in your life, and that it would be good and pleasant as you dwell in unity with other Christ followers. I pray we would all be given a measure of grace that would enable us, as different as we all are, to uphold one another in love. Amen.

Cast your cares

A few weeks ago, my 2 year old got a stomach bug for the first time. It was obvious he didn't feel well and so when he motioned to crawl up into my lap, I welcomed him and wrapped my arms around his achy body. Then, out of no where, he started to cough, and before I could even think, he puked all over to the both of us. I looked at my husband, who had horror wash over his face, and sighed while I comforted my little one. I mean, what can you really do in that moment?

 After handing him over to be showered, while cleaning myself up, I heard the Father say, "Cast your cares on Me... That's what I mean."
"Throw up on you?" I asked, in almost disbelief of what I was hearing.
"Go look up the word 'cast."
"To throw or hurl; Fling." It made me think about a fisherman, casting his line into the water, first rearing his pole back, and then flinging with all of his might in the direction he intended it to go.

This picture gave me a new understanding of the verses I've heard so many times, even though it seems to many, they've become a pat answer in the face of worrisome circumstances. Peter tells us to "cast our anxieties on the LORD because He cares for us." He's echoing David, who said "Cast your cares on the LORD, and He will sustain you. He will never let the righteous be shaken." (1 Peter 5:7/Psalm 55:22) Throw, hurl, fling my cares on the Lord. It's not a picture of passively placing my worries at Jesus' feet. It's a forceful, intentional, power-filled action.

But since the Father made a note to mention this in the middle of my son's vomiting, I got to thinking about what anxiety and worry does to the body as well as the soul. Worry often makes us nauseous, but we tend to stuff it down, as if talking or praying about it will make our concerns real instead of just in our minds. Ironically enough, stuffing it down keeps us in this state of being worried sick. Once we get it up and out, we end up feeling so much better, even if the process is messy, because our soul wasn't meant to hold onto it.  Like a body needs to get rid of a germ it can't process, the soul needs to get rid of anxiety.

He cares for you. He's not disappointed that you couldn't handle what keeps you up at night yourself, and He's not grossed out that you finally decided to cough up what's making your stomach churn. All He wants is for you to throw, hurl, fling these anxieties far enough away from you, with confidence and boldness, that you can't just reach down and pick them back up. Like the fisherman who only drops his line next to his boat, it's too easy to pick our anxieties back up and claim "it didn't work." If the temptation to take our anxieties back on ourselves is great, it means we didn't throw them far enough.

I pray you're given grace for the task. I'm not saying that it's easy. I'm saying that no matter how imperfect your aim, no matter how messy your progression, or how many times it takes for you to throw it a good distance away, it's worth it. He sustains those who cast their cares on Him. He stabilizes them with His peace.

"May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content knowing you are a child of God.

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love .

It is there for each and every one of us." St. Therese of Liseux prayer from "Story of a Soul"

Finding Rest

There is no tired like "just had a baby" tired. Talking to a friend at lunch today, I told her I am so impressed with how the human body can seem to survive on caffeine, adrenaline and 3 hours of sleep for weeks on end. More times than not, I sacrifice sleep in order to get some dishes done, clean the living room, call a friend, anything I can think of that I can't do while the kids are awake. Occasionally, though, the exhaustion comes over me like a wave and leaves me no choice but to succumb to it's siren call. In those moments, I'm usually bombarded with thoughts that our society has pounded into me from childhood,"What about the dishes/laundry/dinner? You're just gonna let your husband come home to this mess?" "You could be, SHOULD BE doing _____ instead of sleeping." "You can sleep when you're dead!" They all carry the same message: I'm selfish, lazy, and if you add the message that I'm a crap mom for sticking my kids in front of Sesame Street while I close my eyes for an hour, unwilling to deal with the consequences of having children.

I've heard people who are entrepreneurs being told the same thing when they talk about needing a break. If you have something that requires all of you to sustain it, it's as though our society says, "If you wanted rest, you should have wanted less." Instead, I'm supposed to live in weariness without the option of burnout. Thankfully, we are not entitled to rest, we are commanded to rest.

We have all read passages that say remember the Sabbath, and keep it holy, and that God worked 6 days and then rested. How many of us have read about those who disobeyed God's commands, and what ended up happening to them? In Hebrews 4, the writer quotes Psalm 95, who explains that because of the Israelites' disobedience, they were cursed by God in His anger, an oath which said that they shall not enter His rest. (Ps 95:10-11) By not carving out time to rest, in making excuses to bypass the idea of taking a break, we are not only being disobedient, we are living under a curse reserved for those who chronically harden their hearts against God, and as a result, perish from it. (vs 11) 

Gives whole new meaning to the phrase "dead tired," doesn't it? 

Thankfully, Jesus became a curse for us, negating the curses of the law (Gal 3:13,) so that we might turn back and embrace the rest the Father calls us to. Maybe that's why the writer opens the chapter with, "Since the promise of entering His rest still stands, let us be careful none of you have fallen short of it." (Heb 4:1) The joyous, exuberant, shout from the top of the mountain news is the promise of entering His rest stands for those who submit to His love and care. (Psalm 95:6-7)

Since we don't have the luxury of a siesta built into our day, we have to be intentional about our rest. It seems paradoxical to think we need to actively seek out time to be inactive, but if we don't, it's only a matter of time before the taskmaster of expectation finds it's way back into our schedule. Before we know it, we will again be telling someone how tired we are while reaching for that 44 oz cup of coffee.

Many I know find rest in nature. The sound of the crashing waves, smell of seasonal blooms or sights of puffy clouds just give their hearts peace. Some I know really just need a day where the dishes don't get done, the laundry stays in piles and they curl up with a book. I have a few friends who find rest while running, with their headphones in, focusing on getting back in touch with their body. I could go for a nap, or what really rejuvenates my soul is appreciating art, whether listening to someone play an instrument or going to a museum.  My point is everyone rests differently. Just find where you can turn off the world and tune into peace; Keep it holy and go there often.

I ask that Abba would silence the voices that tell you if you rest, something catastrophic will happen. I pray that you would enter into a deeper, fuller, sweeter experience with Jesus as you turn off the world and pause in His presence. That you would have the energy needed to live abundantly, and the endurance to run the race He has set before you. Amen.

How we do naps at my house

Seasons

Every piece of laundry I own is covered in baby vomit and toddler snot. I've come to the place where I expect at least 2 wardrobe changes a day because baby will inevitably give me those big eyes, coo and then puke down my shirt and the toddler will run over to me and rub his nose across my sleeve, my stomach, wherever he can wrap around his face. I normally suck my teeth, whisper, "awesome," and grab one of the plethora of towels I keep in arm's reach. A mantra that bounces around my head surfaces in those moments, "It's just a season."  But what does that mean?

I think it's important to understand that seasons are appointed by God. In Daniel, it says God changes seasons and times. Ecclesiastes 3 takes it further and says that there is an appointed time for nearly everything. There is an appointed time to run and a time to sit, appointed times for rain and sun, for growth and rest and so on and so forth. I think of seasons as a measure of time where space is given to purposefully focus on or experience just a few aspects of life. Whether cyclical or singular, significantly longer or shorter than we expect, a season's temporary nature allows us to be immersed in their full measure, to learn and grow before naturally transitioning to the next. The Father appointing them leads me to believe He does so to furnish for us an abundant human experience.

(That is not to say it is only the Father's hand who causes the season we find ourselves in. I have a friend who moved to northern India after college. Something she's mentioned in passing is preparing for monsoon season, because India has a monsoon season. However, I live in southern California, and if a monsoon came through here, it would mean something very wrong has happened and changed our weather pattern. All this to point out some seasons are strictly geographical. We are quick to ask God what we're supposed to be gleaning in seasons of chaos while never evaluating our surroundings. Are you in community with people who are the emotional equivalent of monsoons? People you have to prepare to engage with or they'll rip through your life, threatening to tear away your resources, peace of mind and stability, leaving a trail of wreckage for you to deal with? Whether you decide to move to a more agreeable emotional climate (without them,) or that the benefits of relationship outweigh the drawbacks (like people who live happily in tornado alley,) take note that the storms they come with aren't necessarily those appointed for you, they're ones you choose to chase.)

Most of us don't think of abundant life as being saturated with grief, or marinating in travail. Many of us ask "why" when we're forced to spend any true length of time in seasons of dryness, silence, or uncertainty. Even Jesus asked for an alternative as he struggled in a season of turmoil while he approached his death. It's easy to see abundant life when we've got lots of money in the bank, are healthy, and experiencing fulfillment and affirmation. Those are great seasons that I'm sure given the choice, we would set our whole lives up to be that eternal spring, where everything is growing and increasing, full of sweet fruit. How is being covered in toddler snot and baby vomit living fully? What am I supposed to do when everything I see is transient and I have nothing to cling to? What am I to learn in the winters of my life, when conditions are harsh and nothing is growing?

"From the ends of the earth, I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I." (Psalm 61:2)  Of course we want to live in perpetual seasons of prosperity, but when we really think about it, where is it we experience the abundance of God in our lives? We want to say in times of joy and ease, but know that isn't true. When we're immersed in the less than desirable parts of the human experience, we hold to to the truth that unlike the seasons, the Father says, "I, the LORD, do not change. Therefore you, O sons of Jacob, are not consumed. " (Malachi 3:6) Jesus echoed this when he said we build our lives on the Rock instead of on the sand, where our lives can't be blown apart by the wind or washed away by the waves. The abundant life is established in these seasons because the stable, unyielding, unchanging God uses them to stretch our souls closer to His heart. The fullest, most realized lives are lived out from there.

I encourage you to journal through your seasons so that you can look back and see how full a life He's purposed for you. I am praying that whether you are being equipped to live a fully flourished life, greater than one you could imagine putting together yourself, or are being stretched to His heart, learning to live from His hand, that you would find the space to thank Him. I pray that if you're anything like me, you would surrender and repent of your desire to maintain an eternal spring, and that you would receive His grace when seasons change, eager to be fully immersed in the experience before you. I pray that your seasons of plenty would have more than enough to carry you through the seasons of lack, and more than anything, the Rock in which you stand would prove Himself faithful. Amen.

Crumbs

My firstborn may have just turned 2, but he still doesn't quite have the understanding that you shouldn't eat food off the floor, and being that he's a toddler, quite a bit ends up there when he's eating. Today, he found a piece of a chip, and bent down to eat it. My husband intercepted, taking the crumb, which lead to our little one pouting and whining, asking for it back. "Dude, it's a crumb. Do you want some chips? I can get you some chips if you want some," My husband answered. As he took our son's hand and moved to the kitchen, I sat back and thanked Abba for again speaking through my husband. How often do I settle for crumbs?

If you're a mom, you might be used to standing over the sink with a half eaten plate of your child's food and that being your dinner. Not only do we not want anything to go to waste, considering how resourceful we have to be, but that's all we have time for. The idea of actually sitting down and enjoying a satisfying meal is almost a joke when you have young kids. We settle for this because that's all we have time for. Many of us use the same excuse when it comes to spending time with the Father. There is always something else happening, and we're on the go, just able to take in what we can quickly find along the way, whether that be from our 5 minute app or Sunday's hour long service. We tell ourselves it's just a season, but it quickly becomes habit, scavenging what we find instead of looking up and asking for what we really want or need. We tell ourselves the crumbs are from God, and thank Him for them, because we believe the lie that this is what he wants for us, and if we don't have enough, we're just not stewarding well. 

Where is the abundant life Jesus offers? Many of us walk around as though that's a joke too, or at least a pie in the sky idea that we'll get eventually, but certainly not now. Our life just doesn't leave abundance as an option, and we move into survival. We see others sitting at the banquet table, feasting on joy and contentment, pouring love and grace into their goblet, drinking deeply and pulling off another serving of hope. We push resentment down as we step under the table, looking for something that may have fallen off, disguising our skulking as asking for prayer, not really believing God will hear our heart's desire, but supposing maybe someone we know who is satisfied will take pity on us and give us a little off their plate. 

My church, every year, does a devotional for Lent called Leap of Faith. This year, I didn't jump. I believed that what I needed, (security, stability, more money) God just wasn't going to give me. I told myself that's just not how He works. Even though I was deeply convicted, I never even cracked the devotional book. Despite my utter lack of faith, my deepest prayers began to be acknowledged, and seed I refused to sow began growing. Doctors extended grace to me when I found out my insurance company hadn't covered even 1 visit my entire pregnancy, telling me we'd get to the bills in a few months. Money began falling out of the sky, not just in the amount we would need to get through the next 3 months, but excess, with more pouring in as we followed the leading to bless others with our resources. I had my children not just recognized, but utterly celebrated as we asked our community to join us in special occasions. I even had the minutia of needing friends to meet with me on Saturday, specifically, when my husband is gone for 13 hours of the day and I need help with the boys, answered, and not just answered, blossom into a beautiful beginning of friendship. I tell you all this for one reason: The abundance I refused to pray for, but desperately needed, I received; This leads me to believe Jesus is even more invested in my living abundantly than I am. I'm in awe of His grace and mercy. 

So how do we walk away from our habit of gathering and living off crumbs and move onto believing what Jesus said is true?

Ask. Jesus lays it out here, over and over. "Ask, and it will be given to you, seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened." (Matt 7:7, Luke 11:9-10) This is the risky part; It comes with taking a seat at the table. Jesus follows this verse in Luke with this: "Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him? (Luke 11:11) I understand those of you who say you don't want the Holy Spirit, you want ________. I said the same thing. That moves into the next step.

Believe/Trust. If asking is the risky part, this is the hard part. The author of Hebrews says, "Without faith, it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe he exists, and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him." (Hebrews 11:6) When our life experience tells us we're not even being acknowledged, let alone rewarded by God, trust. Trust that the Holy Spirit comes with good things, and that unlike man, who only has a certain amount, He has more, in greater volume than you could even imagine. 

Praise. There is something about praising God for what He's doing in our life, and for the seeds we know He will water and grow if we throw them out there, that gets us looking up. Paul, in 1 Corinthians says, "I always thank my God for you, because of His grace given you in Christ Jesus. For in Him, you have been enriched in every way- with all kinds of speech and all knowledge-God thus confirming our testimony about Christ among you. Therefore, you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed." (1 Cor. 1:4-7) We praise God as we eagerly wait for His hand to be revealed, acknowledging the grace currently being poured out over us. 

The crumbs are not enough. They are too little joy, too little power over our circumstances, too little resources, too little hope, because they are only what we can scramble together or manufacture ourselves. These and living off the stories of others as opposed to seeing God's hand in our own lives will never fill us. Our Father is good, and has more than enough to meet our needs, you included. It is not His will that we would live in a state of distrust, keeping our eyes low for what might accidentally fall our way. He wants us to ask Him for what we want, believe that He wants to and will meet the deepest desires of our hearts and for His children to glorify His faithfulness. Satisfaction is on the table. Pull up a chair.

How can I pray for you? Leave a comment that I can add my amen to and hold with you in faith. Abba is good, and not just good, good to us. He is faithful even when we are faithless. Receive.

Tantrums

We are just starting to move into the phase called, "the terrible 2's," and man, whoever came up with that name wasn't kidding. Our little guy, moving closer to independence everyday, has no difficulty expressing to us what he wants and when he wants it. The problem is when our answer is no. I think most of us would agree that attempting to reason with a 2 year old is an exercise in futility. I mean, they're pretty much not interested in logic when they're throwing themselves on the ground, screaming over being told they may not draw on the wall or have another cookie. Yet a few weeks ago, in the middle of one of those tantrums, I heard my husband say this to our son: "Every moment you fight me for control is a moment nothing gets done. This is not the battle you want to choose. Let the frustration bleed off and realize I'm right." Whoa!!! Even though my son didn't exactly hear what my husband was trying to say, I heard the Holy Spirit loud and clear. It got me thinking of all the ways we fight God for control through throwing our own version of tantrums. How does the Father react, and how can I integrate His perspective into my parenting?

The Father does not respond to manipulation: In Numbers 20, God tells Moses to talk to a rock to bring water out of it for the Israelites. Moses instead relies on his previous experiences and strikes the rock. God tells him that because Moses didn't trust God enough to honor His holiness in front of the assembly, he would no longer be able to enter the promised land. In Deuteronomy 3, Moses turns around and starts pleading with God, saying, "Sovereign Lord, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do the deeds and mighty works that you do? Let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan, that fine hill country and Lebanon." God's response: "That's enough. Do not speak to me any longer about this matter." (Num 20:23-26) Neither Moses' pleading nor flattery was going to change God's mind. Kind words don't make up for disobedience, and sometimes, being sorry isn't enough. Abba shows me here that the best thing I can do as a parent is be consistent once a punishment has been laid out. It's not meant to be overbearing or prove my dominance, but reflect that accountability is something we will all be held to.

The Father will wait for us to calm down and then he'll give us the space to articulate why we're so upset. The prophet Elijah called down fire from heaven, slaughtered all the prophets of Ba'al, went to heaven in a chariot of fire and also had an epic tantrum. When he heard Queen Jezebel vowed to end his life, he said, "I've had enough, Lord. Take my life. I'm no better than my ancestors." After falling asleep under a tree (where an angel of the Lord woke him twice to eat,) Elijah finally got up and went to Mt. Horeb, which took him 40 days to travel to. In that time, there's no correspondence between he and God. Only once Elijah arrives, does God ask, "What are you doing here?" Elijah expresses his frustrations at his hard work for God, his fear of death and feelings of being completely unable to continue. God then gives Elijah perspective into the situation he didn't have, setting him right. (1 Kings 19) Abba shows me here that sometimes, the best thing I can do is give my kids space to figure out why they feel a certain way, let them explain it as best they can, and give them my perspective. Doing this validates that their feelings are real, even if unfounded, and expresses that I want to work with them to find a solution to the problem.

The Father will not enter into our frenzy. Most of us know the story of Mary and Martha, and how the first time Jesus and the disciples stayed with them, Martha was running around in a tizzy trying to get the house ready for her guests. Eventually, she realized that Mary was just hanging out with Jesus and went to him saying, "Jesus, don't you care that my sister has left me to do all the work? Make her help me!" Jesus response to Martha was, "You are worried and upset about many things, but few are needed, and indeed, only one. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:38-42) Jesus not reinforcing Martha's anxiety and validating Mary's choice told Martha that she was stressing herself out unnecessarily. Abba teaches me here that when my son's emotions are running high, I can bring peace to the situation and set him free of what he believes his (unrealistic) expectations are if I don't enter into his hysteria.

I know I'm using Abba's examples in disciplining my boys, but children aren't the only one who throw tantrums when they don't get their way. How gracious is the Father to give us examples on how to deal with our family, coworkers, and significant others when they can't adequately express their frustration, and succumb to blowing up? Satan is crafty, and will use moments when we lose it as a means of driving a wedge between us, encouraging us to cling to feelings of being misunderstood and angry. The Father would rather us remain steady in the call to accountability, give space for grace and perspective and standing strong as a pillar of peace in the midst of stress. 

Abba, so often, I turn to the internet or famous authors in figuring out how to deal with my toddler. Forgive me for not praying or looking in Your word when you have given such blatant examples in dealing with Your children. Help me employ your methods in the midst of madness, and let it's good fruit bring You glory. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Part 2: Waiting and whirlwinds

"Both my babies came early, I can't imagine what the last 4 weeks of pregnancy are like," my friend said as she looked pitifully at me. At the time, I was 37 weeks pregnant, and took her sympathy, as it felt as though I had been pregnant forever. I told another friend recently, who is expecting herself, that the last 4 weeks of my pregnancy were the longest of my entire life. Then suddenly, with little warning and even less time to get to the hospital, my second born was here. The brief 4 hours were a whirlwind that I'm still processing 3 weeks later, going over how in the world did I deliver my own child? (If you haven't already read, and you want more details you can read my birth story here.) I think pregnancy is a perfect modern illustration how waiting can be prolonged, excessive in it's demands and entirely exhausting, but relief and resolution can come so swiftly and completely that we barely have time to react before being swept up by it.

The whole experience actually made me think about the Exodus, and what we now observe as Passover. For 430 years the Israelites cried out to God about their being enslaved. The harsh sun beat down on them, exacerbating the already cruel treatment they were getting from their Egyptian masters. In Exodus 3, God says, "I have seen the misery of my people. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers and I am concerned for their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them..." (vs 7-8) For 430 years, they cried out, and had to wait for redemption. I think of myself and how at some point, much like in pregnancy, I would have just accepted misery and given up on the idea of deliverance. 

BUT THEN, as wailing began to fill the night air while the firstborn children of Egypt were perishing, Pharaoh summoned Moses and said, "UP! You and all the Israelites, your flocks and your herds, leave my people! GO!" The Egyptians urged the Israelites to leave quickly, in fear all of Egypt would die if they dawdled. So the Israelites grabbed the dough they were going to use to make bread and packed it into troughs, asked the Egyptians for clothes and gold and left. 430 years of crying out and redemption came so quickly that they didn't have time to prepare food for themselves for the journey. (Exodus 12:31-42)

The illustration of waiting doesn't end there. There was an additional 400 years of silence from God between the last prophet of the old testament, Malachi, and the one who would declare the coming of the Messiah, John the Baptist. Yet, despite those 400 years, 2 people are mentioned as maintaining devotion to God and righteous standing, and were allowed to recognize Jesus' divinity the day he was presented at the temple. Simeon, the officiating priest, took Jesus into his arms and said, "My eyes have seen salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all nations." Anna, an 84 year old prophetess, then approached them and gave thanks to God, speaking of the child to anyone who looked forward to the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:29-38) But the work of that salvation and redemption would still need to wait, as it would be another 30 years before Jesus was baptized by John and began his ministry. (For those adding up the years, yes, this is another set of 430 years before God would again pour out His power on behalf of His people, though the display would be vastly different.) Much like in the works displayed in Egypt, the works of Jesus were so miraculous that in 3 short years, it overturned the preexisting order of things, and put into motion the final redemptive work of creation, His crucifixion, where he spoke, "It is finished." 

The prophet Nahum says the Lord's way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and the clouds are the dust at his feet. What does that image convey? From my understanding of the Word, it means that when God acts, the action comes through quickly, is ample and thorough and leaves no room for doubt. I think the reason our focus tends to be on the waiting, and how excruciating being in that state can be, is because that's the majority of our experience. Whether it's 40 weeks, 430 years or the exact amount you've been waiting for that prayer to be answered, it's no small amount spent and it's easy to become frustrated, angry or hopeless.

However, moving our focus from the waiting to the resolution is found in doing more than being patient, or trying to be strong. It is firmly standing on the established promises of God. "For no matter how many promises God has made, they are all YES in Christ. And through Him, the Amen is spoken by us to the glory of God." (2 Cor 1:20) Has He promised that goodness and mercy will follow you all the days of your life, but you're under a boss that's hellbent on making you miserable? Has He promised that you will have all your needs met, but you've been spinning your wheels and still come up financially insecure? Has He promised that you will be healed, but day after day, that same nagging pain reminds you that you're not yet? All of God's promises are Yes, and our agreement with that yes gives glory to God.

Whatever your prayer is, I say amen with you. I pray that your focus would be shifted toward the faithfulness of God no matter how long you've been waiting and these instances would bolster your confidence. If you would like to write that promise in the comments, I would love to pray in agreement with you. Blessed are they who believe that the LORD will fulfill His promises to them. (Luke 1:45)

Photo Credit: Jim Reed, Kansas Dust Devil

Part 1: My Birth Story

A week and a half ago, I waddled into church and sighed as I plopped heavily into my seat. "How are you?" friends asked sympathetically. "Ready to not be pregnant," I replied. I recounted my most recent doctor's visit, where just 2 days prior, I begged for induction, explaining that I was barely functional. The doctor saw first hand, as toward the end of our routine exam, after just spending 2 minutes on my back, I started getting very dizzy, was unable to breathe and broke out in a sweat. She, too, had that sympathetic look on her face my friends had, but told me that we would need to wait at least another week. As if 39 weeks hadn't been long enough. As if I could possibly endure another jab to my ribs or go through another acid reflux filled sleepless night.

And then late Monday night, things started happening. As I sat on my couch and ate my cinnamon bun while watching Food Network, I felt things shifting. I went to bed thinking braxton hicks, but 2 hours later, it was clear that this was no drill. Still, I sent my husband to work, because my firstborn took 28 hours to make his appearance, and while I expected a shortened labor, I thought it would be closer to 12 hours, and we were just in the beginning. 2 hours later, I called and told him come home, and that we needed to go to the hospital. Bellowing in pain, I woke up my toddler and his crying over whether or not Mama was ok just broke my heart. As his little hand took mine and led me to the car, I thought of my birth plan, wondered if I grabbed everything I needed and was thankful I was able to fill out my insurance information while posturing over our bed. We only live about 12-15 minutes away from the hospital, and I kept telling myself soon, I would have my epidural and be out of this exorbitant amount of pain, as I involuntarily began to cry out, "I can't do this again."

5 minutes into the drive we were on the highway, and as pressure rolled over my legs and back, my water broke. I was so happy because I knew at least I couldn't be turned away. I attempted to manage the pressure as well as I could the next 10 minutes, but my body had started to go rogue, pushing without my consent. My husband raced to the patient unloading station, assuring me the whole way that we were gonna be ok. I got out of the car, but braced against the door as another wave of mind numbing pain paralyzed my legs. "Do you want me to go get help?" My husband asked, with desperation in his eyes. "Yes," I whispered and before I knew it, he and my toddler were gone. In those 60 seconds, our second born decided to make his debut, and I found myself squatting down next to the car, catching him by his ears and cheeks. The rest of him made his way onto my forearm just as nursing students ran over, asking if they could help me. I handed my son over to one as the other laid me down in the parking lot, and saw my husband and toddler amidst a sea of green nursing student uniforms, running in to aid further. They stood back as we were packed with heated blankets amidst what looked like a murder scene. I laid my head back and took a grateful breath and I held my newborn to my chest. My husband was right, everything's was going to be ok.

Azariah Gideon was born 6:40am on a 55° Tuesday morning. His name means God Helps/Mighty Warrior. There is more to the story, but that will come in part 2.

Becoming like little children

I've officially been on maternity leave for 1 week, and the experience has been mostly wonderful. It's been nice to lay down when I feel like my body is telling me it needs to rest, to play all afternoon with my firstborn and even take part in family nap time. One unintended consequence is that I think my son has been completely thrown off by Mama being home all the time, and Daddy picking up extra shifts at work at night. The last few days, he has pushed every boundary, and the other night was literal hours of "no," "stop," and "don't!" We even went to bed early because I was done; I just could not yell anymore, take one more thing away from him, or attempt any other distractions. That night, I went to bed frustrated, telling my husband that I don't know what's gotten into him, and I'm not sure what to do, especially if his behavior continued. The next morning, I was woken up by a tiny voice shouting, "MAAAAAAMA!!" "Yes Baby," I said from the next room, before seeing he had escaped from his crib and was making his way toward me, beaming this ear to ear smile. He extended his hands upward and I pulled him onto my bed, and he laid down to cuddle. He jumped and laughed, hugged and kissed, and I was so grateful that the hellion I had put to bed had disappeared into the night and my sweet little had woken up.

In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit remind me of Jesus' words, "Truly, I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven." (Matt 18:3) Many have speculated as to what He meant by this, whether it's the inherent trust children have, or the faith they can contain, but I learned a few other things from that moment:

Little children keep no record of wrongs. My son didn't wake up thinking about the frustrating night before, or recalling everything he could have done better. He woke up thinking about the usual things our morning consists of: wakeup hugs, his cup of milk and Sesame Street. He woke up with the expectation that life was going to be as it usually was, where he is received, lavishly loved and has his needs met. For me to become like a little child would be to wake up without the regrets of yesterday, and not beating myself up for what I did or didn't do. It also means not borrowing tomorrow's anxieties and worrying about what I have to do today to ensure my comfort tomorrow. It means meeting my heavenly Father believing that He loves me, that He is generous with His presence and that He wants to meet my needs. It's seizing the blessing of a new day and the blank slate set before me. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

Little children don't expect constant punishment. My son didn't wake up expecting me to be angry. As a matter of fact, he didn't expect me to be angry 5 minutes after he was punished for doing the same thing I asked him not to for the 15th time. Discipline is the least favorite part of parenting, but like the writer of Hebrews says, we discipline our children for a little while, as we think is best. The verse continues, saying, "God disciplines us for our good, that we might share in His holiness" (Heb 12:10.) That said, I can't tell you how many times something goes wrong in my life or in the life of someone I know where the immediate assumption is that we are being punished for something that we have to figure out. To become like a little child is to accept the chastisement of our Father, and understand that while it's not going to feel good at the time, it's not meant to last long, and that He disciplines those He loves. It's throwing off the notion that God is an abusive Father, who is still angry from the night before, and that we need to do more to show Him how sorry we are. His character is such that for His own sake, he blots out our sin and remembers it no more. (Isaiah 43:25) We were never meant to expect to live under punishment.

Little children are going to stumble again. Maybe this lesson was learned later in the afternoon, but part of being a little child is pushing boundaries; is doing the wrong thing and being corrected over and over again. Their lack of perspective keeps their focus on what they want, regardless if that's a chef's knife purposely kept out of reach so they don't hurt themselves. There are many times in the Old Testament where God sounds like most parents, asking the Israelites, "How many times do I have to tell you?" That said, He never stops telling them. He never stops showing up with the grace necessary to mold them into becoming His people. God never throws His hands up and says, "Fine, I don't care what you do anymore." He is invested in us, even when we're headed in the wrong direction, and will leave the entire flock to rescue us from our moment of trouble (Luke 15:4.) The expectation to our children and to us is grace. Grace to push, grace to fumble, grace to fall, and grace to get back up and try again. 

I pray that as we become like little children, embracing the lavish love of God after our bad days, owning when we're being chastised and the lessons that come with it, and living in the grace necessary to stumble, that we are made more and more into the image of His likeness. May you be set free from any guilt of the past, and embrace the overflowing love of the Father, who never tires of showing up and setting us right.

Do this now!!

My son has a new habit of when he wants something, he'll grab my or my husband's hand and guide it to what he wants. Books, bubbles, turn this toy on, fill my cup, get me food, all communicated by grabbing our hand and putting it on what he wants us to fulfill for him. If we don't immediately, he'll obsess over getting us to do his bidding, continuously moving our hand back to the object of desire and within a minute, throw a full out fit. I've written before on how I wish he felt like he could trust me with his needs and wants and how I'm not holding out on him, but it seems even now, at 21 months, he has no sense of security in my nature; no assurance that I always want what's best for him, and yes, that I want him happy. I wonder why this is, since he's never gone without having his needs met, but I think it must be that in the moment of desire, that's all he can see. It is the loudest voice in his head, the most urgent alarm in his heart, and it demands to be satisfied immediately.

The disciples experienced something similar with Jesus, in Luke 8, where a squall came over the lake they were crossing and in a moment of panic, they woke Jesus, yelling, "MASTER! WE ARE PERISHING!!" It is obvious at that point they did not know the full extent of Jesus' power and ability, though they had seen him raise a boy from the dead, heal many people and even bestow forgiveness to a paralyzed man upon restoring him. They had no assurance that Jesus had their best in mind, no sense of security in his presence. Whether or not Jesus was in the boat with them, they were going to die, or so they thought. Jesus sat up, rebuked the wind and waves and then turned to his friends, asking, "Where is your faith? I recently learned that the word faith can also be translated as trust, and Jesus may has well have been saying, "Why don't you trust me?" The disciples looked at each other with fear and amazement, saying, "Who is this man, that even the wind and waves obey him?"

In truth, I had no intention on sharing my current struggle with this, but felt the need to in the interest of full disclosure. Much like my toddler, despite all the evidence that proves otherwise, I feel as though I have no assurance, no security in Jesus' presence with me. More often than not, I say that His presence isn't what I want, but His intervention. I just want bad things to not happen, and I want the plans I come up with to be honored and blessed. I'm like my son, guiding the Father's hand to what I think I need most and say, "Do this now!" In those moments, those needs consume all of my focus and I am completely unable to see where He has come through in the past; I declare that God has abandoned me before taking resentful control of my situation, and walking away in a huff, deciding if God won't give me what I want, I will get it myself. Usually, this ends with a friend or two expressing concern, and pointing out all the places God has provided my daily bread, and even if I had to wait, or if things didn't go the way I planned, that He has come through. They encourage me to see the forest for the trees, take a step back, and remember that for every urgent matter that has come up in my life, God has continued to deliver me. And you know what? None of it makes me feel any better about what God isn't doing right this second. 

I share this with you because I don't think I'm alone. Trust is hard in any relationship, and it doesn't seem any easier when life has been disappointing, when prayers have been met with silence, and when our best plans blow up in our faces. The reason we have such a hard time trusting God is because He doesn't offer security beyond His presence. "Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid, for the LORD your God goes with you wherever you go," "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you," "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me." (Deuteronomy 31:6, Isaiah 43:2, Psalm 23) Throughout scripture, His promise to us in the midst of trial is his very self. When most of our needs are so tangible, presence doesn't seem like it's enough, but I think that proves Jesus' point that much like the disciples, we don't understand who's with us.

I know I usually end with a prayer, but this time, I ask that you would pray for my family in this time. Faith (certainty in what we do not see,) and Hope (confidence in what we do not have,) are not satisfying the urgent cries of our hearts, and while our church is engaging in their yearly Leap of Faith, where we go to God with what matters most to us, my husband and I are looking at our lives, asking where God fits into anything right now. My friends have been faithful in pointing out blessing after blessing in our lives, and the alarm that screams, "Do this now!" overrides their voices. I feel resentful at being built so resourceful, and even though I can see the manna on the ground for today, I am angry that there is only enough for this moment, and I am consumed with worry for what the next moment will demand of us, while looking at depleted bank accounts, cupboards and strength. If you are in our boat and can relate to what we're experiencing, I'm sorry. I can only say that I hope and pray that we are proven wrong in the most magnificent way imaginable. But if you are firmly planted, looking at our situation from dry land, remembering what it was like to be in the midst of the storm, please keep us in your prayers, that we would trust that in His presence is the fullness of joy, and at his right hand, pleasures forevermore, which He desires to give to us. Thank you.

What's in a name?

As we are rapidly approaching the coming of my second son, my husband and I are narrowing down what we want to name him. Both names are unique, straight from the Old Testament, but one is so uncommon, it is almost unheard of. We like them both, and think they compliment each other, but are unsure as which  name to use first. In trying to choose, I started thinking about studies I've read that say people with less common, more ethnic sounding names tend to experience discrimination in job placement and salary assignment, and I don't even want to think about the sheer cruelty of children toward anyone who's "different." The more I thought about it, fear welled up within my heart, and felt responsible for shielding my son from this reality. Is it wrong? Absolutely. Should I have to worry about potential future hate? No. Does this actually happen? Yes. So I've been terrified that in picking a name we love, we would inevitably handicap our child and make him part of a fight he might not want a share in.

I explained all of this to a friend at work, and she asked me, "Where's your faith? Are you trying to build your son's identity on fear of this world or on faith that, like this name suggests, God hears him, loves him, and will take care of him?"

Conviction punched me straight in the gut with that question, but she was absolutely right. I have been focusing on creating an identity for him that is world-proof and not giving much consideration as to how God would play into his life. As I thought about it, I realized it's something I've done for myself as well, and a common theme society pushes on us to embrace.

One of my pastors recently taught in our adolescence, we develop a sense of self that includes the opinion of the collective. We get labels, surrender what makes us special, and attempt the common goal of community void of conflict. I find many of us continue that trend into adulthood, even into the church, some not even remembering what makes them special to begin with until they are hit with their first major existential crisis, forced to ask, "who am I and why am I here?"

The Bible identifies us as many things, very few of which are world-proof. Salt of earth, Light of the world, Chosen people, royal priesthood, holy nation. (Matthew 5/1 Peter 2) Co-heir, Conqueror, Filled with the fullness of God. (Romans 8/Ephesians 3) are just a few examples of an exhaustive list. To walk around and live as though you carry the very spice and essence of life, created to bless others through a power that is not your own, with belief that you are able to combat and conquer anything that comes against you is brazen in a way that makes many of us uncomfortable. "What if the Bible is wrong?" "What if I can't be that?" "What if I'm ridiculed?" A Christ-identified life butts up against our world-proof identity and leaves no space to exist with a foot in each. 

Jesus, in the book of Matthew, says, "The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money." (Matt 6:22-24) I know Jesus used the example of money here, but I think we can replace that with a couple of other things and still get the spirit of what he was saying: fear, self, man. If we choose to live in a way that bows to fear as opposed to faith, that is devoted to self promotion instead of sacrifice, and loves the opinion of man instead of the opinion of God, it means our eyes are not healthy, and that a great darkness blankets the truth of our reality. 

I think it's human to create world-proof identities for ourselves, for our children, and to expect them from society. There is a strong allure to a conflict free, self fulfilling, promoted existence. But we are given a new mantle, a greater purpose, an opportunity to live interactively with the God of the all creation. The truth is we can't have both. Either we will trust that God loves us, hears the desires of our hearts and will take care of us or we will trust in our self made abilities and that the zoning we create around our souls will keep us safe and happy. I can tell you from experience that as risky and terrifying option 1 seems, option 2 never works. I pray that you will be filled with faith to jump into the arms of Abba as you live the life Christ has called you to, believing he'll catch you and never let go.

Abba, thank you for giving me this little life to steward, and for already using him to highlight where I fall short. Help me to trust You with who I am, and receive the name you've written on my heart, and call me when we're alone in the secret place. Break down the zoning I've built to keep me safe, and give me the faith to live audaciously. Cast out the darkness that has blinded my ability to see the truth of my reality, and fill me with the light You have called me to be in this world. I surrender my fear to You, and ask you to drive out the doubt that I am anything less than what You've called me to be: Chosen to be a co-heir with Christ, filled with all the fullness of God; A dearly loved child, called to be an example in this world of how far You're willing to go to restore Your creation to Yourself. And where I continue to struggle, help my unbelief. In Jesus name, amen.

The days are long, but the years are short

We've hit the new year running, but with this new start comes a barrage of memories. This time last year, my little one was only 8 months old, still nursing, just learning the mechanics of walking, loving to eat frozen waffles while his new little teeth were coming in. Today, he eats everything, runs without effort, even to walking up and down stairs, has favorite tv shows, a whole language of toddler and English, mimicking me in every way. It's like this year, he just sprouted and it has been amazing to watch how fast he grew. I took a picture a few weeks ago that makes me feel like his first day of college will be sometime next week.

It's hard to believe he's so independent already.

And yet, I think about the long nights where he's been sick or teething or just so wound up he won't sleep, and those are the longest hours of my life. Whether I'm up being his comfort or being a punching bag for enforcing our routine, the time seems to slow to a snail's pace while his wailing pierces the midnight air and in those moments, I grow weary, as my mind would try to convince me that this is all that life will ever be. 

I live in this dichotomy of how have I watched my little one shoot up in development, stature, communication and independence from the tiny, thoroughly dependent newborn I brought home, and how I can't believe how fast it's all gone, and an agonizing dragging on in times of waiting, times of suffering, times of grinding out another day, just desperate to make it to the next. The days can seem so very long but the months and years are flying by.

"A thousand years in Your sight is like a day that has just gone by." Grass that springs up in the morning and then is gone by the evening is how Moses describes our lifespans. (Ps 90:4-6) Peter goes on to expand on the verse, saying that God is not slow in keeping his promises, as some understand slowness, but is patient, not desiring that any perish, but come to repentance. (2nd Peter 3:8) I think these verses are meant to be a comfort as well as a warning, depending on which part of life's dichotomy we're caught in.

The comfort seems obvious: that no matter the difficulty of the season we're in, time is sure to pass and seasons naturally change. We're promised that things will not be the way they are forever, and it isn't that God is preoccupied or distracted, but is patiently waiting for the opportune moment to act, and that whether in patience or action, everything He does is based in love.

The warning is less obvious, but is noticed in alarming rate at which the years pass, and the building anxiety, regret, and second guessing every little decision. I think of the long summers of my youth, which seemed to go on forever, while I'm caught wondering how is it already midway through January, when I could have sworn it was just April?  We are confronted with the truth that our lives are like grass, here today and gone tomorrow, but are spending time throwing the hours down our gullet, eager to move onto the next, especially if we've been in a period of hardship. We don't savor moments.

The only balance offered seems to be remaining present, whether in plenty or famine. It is the only way to glean all there is in hard seasons, and the only way to avoid the cold shock of how much really changes while we're not paying attention. 

In the sermon on the mount (Matthew 5-7,) Jesus tells us we are the seasoning and illumination of this world. He tells us to give to the one who asks us, to love the unlovely and unlovable, to seek the face of God earnestly, to store our treasure in Heaven and to avoid worry, as it cannot add anything to our lives. Even in His teaching on prayer, he tells us to ask that what is true of Heaven would be true on Earth. All of these can only be realized if we remain present in all circumstances, as He did, who was so conscious of his surroundings, with everyone pushing against him, felt power leave him when a woman reached out in faith for her healing (Matthew 9.) 

My prayer for all of us is in the midnight hours, where our sanity seems moments from breaking, we remain present, seeking His face for wisdom and hope. I pray in the busy hours of sports, gymnastics, work commutes and shuffling around, we remain present, storing up treasure that no thief can destroy. I pray God becomes the Lord of our time, that we might not miss the littlest detail of Kingdom come. I come to the altar and lay down the many distractions and amusements I hold onto, and ask that my Father be present with me. He is a balm to the suffering, and the one who speaks meaning into chaos. I invite you to join me here.