2020: God’s people, observations, and nutshell thoughts

I opened my devotional a few days ago, and began reading. I stopped at the first sentence.

“Learn to appreciate difficult days.”

Immediately, the total weight of the exhaustion of 2020 fell over my heart.

I couldn’t I even read the second sentence without stealing myself for the next blow. What could this day possibly bring we have not already endured? Do we really need one more opportunity to “appreciate the difficult days?”

And my thoughts continued down this path…

I’m doing my absolute gut level best to be grateful and dig in and press on AND be nice.

But it has become increasingly difficult this year to convince my broken heart to remain grateful and open. But not simply because the stress of this year overwhelms me at times.

Sure, to say this year is challenging is a gross understatement. But to me, the true heartbreak of this entire season is the revelation of foundational issues in the hearts of God’s people.

And I’ll step out on this limb one step further to say something even more unpopular.

To blame the heart issues on the virus, the masks, the economy, or the racial divide is a terrible mistake.

When we were told we couldn’t come together legally, so much of God’s Church lost its footing on mission.

But that’s only because God’s people had drawn division lines much earlier.

Remember, the Facebook posts and comments after the Super Bowl halftime show back in February?

Remember the political tensions in small groups and friendly conversations as far back as 2016. (Or as far back as forever. Politics is at its core the unsolvable word problem).

Ultimately, the prince of this world gave us all opportunities to focus on our gods this year, and we did.

We divided and chose Self and the church of ME over just loving Jesus and people no matter what.

Maybe tithes are solid, so we are assuming the church is good.

Maybe, online numbers are huge, so we all feel like the church is reaching the lost.

And maybe this will all blow over now- or soon-maybe Christmas will fix it?

Maybe, if everyone will just learn to stay out of their feelings and just go along to get along, we could move forward with the joy of the Lord as our strength?

Maybe, passive aggressive Facebook posts aren’t a sign of heart issues.

Maybe, leaving church because you don’t believe in masks isn’t a sign of Self-love over, submission to a leadership just trying to make hard decisions for the majority.

Maybe choosing masks for the majority isn’t a sign of favoritism over faith – maybe it’s just trying to find a happy medium in an unprecedented situation.

Maybe, choosing not to mediate in truth and allow it to soften our hearts to meet people where they are hurting and torn, isn’t the same thing as being hard-hearted.

Maybe, miss quoting sermons meant to gently rebuke and taking scripture out of context isn’t a harmful agenda.

Maybe, the whites are completely wrong and the blacks and all people of color are completely right.

Maybe, we can tear down idols of hate in our hearts by removing commercials, and war memorials.

Maybe riots are only caused by the informed and the injured.

And none of those angry people are just lost and angry and easily lead by lies delivered from both sides.

And maybe God’s people have no real role in any possible resolution.

Maybe the mainstream media isn’t a drug dealer peddling drama and fear to fuel the fire.

Maybe, the word “LOVE” hasn’t been weaponized to prove either side of any argument.

And.

Maybe, we can win the lost to Christ by proving to them we don’t know what we’re doing either?

Hey.

Maybe God’s church just needs to let people know, we love everyone. And we have a small group to meet their every convenience, as well as their social-political-viral affiliation.

But if you join us in person rather than online, just know we no longer serve coffee – because serving coffee is dangerous and unhealthy.

Or maybe we should just give church staff some time off. They can’t make everyone happy anyway. What’s the purpose of setting hoops ablaze for them to jump through, if we’re not going to receive the Truth they attempt to feed us?

And.

Maybe when He called satan, “prince of this world,” Jesus didn’t actually mean the enemy had any real power.

Maybe, accountability isn’t needed in the season of fear.

Maybe, the best thing to do with God’s people is to just let this thing run its course.

Like a virus.

in the beginning

I don’t remember hearing the phone ring. But I did hear my husband slam the phone down.
Then after some confusion, I made a phone call. Just pushing numbers.  Then ringing. I don’t remember speaking.

Then, I’m standing in my closet. Trying to decide what to wear. This shirt is too big.  This one needs to be ironed. This one has paint on it.

I’m sure the girls were crying. I’m sure I mothered them in some way. And obviously time passed.
Because my in-laws arrived from twenty minutes away.  And then they disappeared with the girls.

I don’t remember what I chose to wear. Which is curious, because it seemed I stood in that closet for an hour trying to make the right decision. Trying to focus. Trying to force my brain to stop repeating the question, “my father is dead?”

Because here’s how grief worked for me: Shock and function attempted to inhabit my brain at the same time. My need for death to be a lie, my need to maintain control, my need to do this part right for my kids, and mom, and even do it right for Dad all sat in my thoughts together accomplishing nothing.
making no progress. And I’m sure I cried. But I can’t remember the tears.

In the next scene, I’m pouring wine into a travel mug and driving to my parent’s home.
And then we were there. My husband and me. And a scene on the lawn- surreal.
Cut grass. EMT. Covered body. Manicured flower beds. And I wonder if I can see him.
If I smell like wine. If Mom has wine. And I’m ushered inside. Not allowed off the front walk.

And then time both slipped by and stopped.
We were the first phone call. But we seemed to be the last to arrive. The house seemed full.
The evening sun lingered and then suddenly disappeared, and hours had vanished.

I worked the room grieving and greeting simultaneously.
Trying to swallow reality of the moment while attempting to make sure each person felt appreciated, to ensure they knew their value as they arrived to show support. To shake hands and embrace and smile lovingly as each guest attempted to swallow their own bitter bite of sad shock.

And sweet church ladies set the table with coffee and treats. And I remember thinking the spiritual gift of hospitality must be some kind of super power. Do they just have paper goods and cookies on stand-by? Sugar cookies for death? Chocolate chip for celebration? Peanut butter for something in between?

I said churchy things each time I shook a hand. Thankful God gave us the time we had with Dad. Thankful God allowed Dad to serve. Thankful Dad shot a great golf game earlier in the day. In the 80’s, I think? I’m not sure.  And the dear man who told me Dad’s score has long since passed as well. There will be no fact checking this post.

In my head I screamed at God, “What the hell? How dare you! I’m not done with him here!”
And all the time more hands, hugs, and spoken words. Thankful for your friendship. Thank you for being here for Mom. Thank you for knowing what cookies to bring. Has anyone seen my travel mug?

 

That horrible night always floats to the surface of my mind this time of year. A therapist might say I’m not letting go. But honestly, I’m not dwelling or wailing or wasting time in a wallow. I just believe some moments – even well-adjusted moments- leave a forever time stamp on our calendars.

The night of my dad’s death remains a dreamlike memory holding both sadness and hope. While Grief worked hard to assert himself a tyrant that night, Love filled the room. Where darkness intended to root and take over, the goodness of God and His people held me tight and refused to be banished. I was not only comforted by close friends. I reconnected with many others.  And without knowing it at the time, I met people that night who would walk with me even through darker days in the coming years.

The most important thing I’ve learned from death is the truth that God wastes nothing.
I believe God works all things for good according to His plan and purpose. Yes, people we love die and that sucks and hurts and leaves shadows over the empty places at family dinners, celebrations, and comfy chairs. But our creator refuses to leave us sitting in those shadows alone.
He offers Jesus. Hope. And something more than loss.

While He isn’t available in the physical world to fill in for my father doing father things – carving turkeys, giving hugs, fixing faucets, or drying tears, God has never left my side. Some of the struggles I’ve been through, would have broken my dad’s heart, possibly even driven a wedge in our relationship. Heaven knows, my circumstances haven’t been easy and not all my choices have been good.  But God stood close and leaned in when I needed a father’s advice and love.
He reminded me of Jesus. His son. His loss. And His love.
God used a heartbreaking moment to get my attention and renew my focus.

And then, He used the years after a horrible night to straighten out my priorities and teach me about love, grace, and transparency. Almost none of it has been easy. He just doesn’t work that way.
But there has been comfort in the valley of the shadow.

So maybe one day, this time of year will drift by my thoughts and I won’t feel compelled to write about my dad, or my grief, or what God has done with it along my journey.
But I absolutely hope not.
Because the Lord took a life-changing moment – and then used it to truly change my life.
I keep writing about the dark, hard parts because I know someone will read, hear and understand my story.
But above all, I want people to read, hear and understand that because of Jesus and God’s great love– my story doesn’t end in the dark – and yours doesn’t have to either.
It can be the beginning of something beautiful.

speak up, please.

Do you ever start typing knowing the words won’t be received well?

Then you pause, rethink your delivery or possibly even the importance of the words you are about to send. Will there be repercussions? Is this subject important enough to provoke push-back?
Am I prepared to deal with everything surely to follow once I hit send, or does the value of my point lessen compared to the weight of the impending fall out?
I’ve had these thoughts many times while composing emails and texts. No one on the planet can boast being more grateful than myself for the backspace key.  Backspace remains the key to this hothead’s peaceful relationships.
And admittedly, I should use it more.
In fact, today would be a great day to exercise use of the backspace.
As my fingers pluck along the keyboard, my brain screams warning after warning.

But I’ve set my resolve and these words are going to happen.

Christians need to stop hiding their failures and their struggles.
WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT MATTERS.

Keeping your shortcomings, failings, and disappointments tucked away where no one can see them harms you and others.

Hiding because of pride or shame, separates you from God and His people.
Hiding because of pride or shame sinfully suggests you trust other people’s opinions over your Savior’s plan.
Hiding because of pride or shame also sinfully suggests to others unconditional love from others and God is not attainable. Hiding says “If you aren’t perfect, you sure better hold your head and tongue like you are.”

Who can bear the weight of such a burden? You weren’t meant to bear it. Instead, God planned for you to live in community. He planned for you to walk together, talk together with other believers.  Why?

Because crying out from your failures, disappointments, and from your true-life raw broken places encourages other believers. It offers permission to others who have failed to seek consolation in God’s grace. It speaks volumes of your faith over pride. It shouts to the shame trying to control you, “My God is for me. He will not be shaken. NOT EVEN IN THIS.”
I know.
Honesty is hard to do. People are untrustworthy. Your heart isn’t safe with everyone you meet because the church is full of people. And people fail.
But you are called to love others and strive for unity.

Life is a journey, and it certainly isn’t an easy walk.
But Jesus never said it would be.
He did however, leave you with instructions.
And you are not walking alone.

These thoughts sit fresh on my heart due to my experiences over the last few days.

I was privileged to witness a few brave sisters courageously lay out the dark parts of their stories. I considered it an offering to God as words of pain and past were shared boldly with other sisters as encouragement. Shame and pride were surrendered to love.  And I was beautifully humbled as I watched these women choose faith and trust in our God and His grace over fear of judgment from people.

In the same few days, I’ve also sadly realized others.
Others carrying disappoint, failure, and struggles, as if they are trying to get all the bags carried inside without being seen. Not asking for help. No admission of failure.
Only smiles outside and the tick of pride digging in less obvious underneath the surface.
Others resolutely banishing transparency to the corner where it sits in shame waiting to be called upon and redeemed by God
– If only the offering had been made.

I’m not naive. I’m no advocate for baring all your woes from the pulpit or at the church pot luck. Certainly, social media is out of the question with its widespread wildfire of opinions from feelingless, filter-faced responders.
But I believe God expects you to talk to each other. To share what you’ve learned from loss or even in the middle of the mess. I have always believed this, but my heart is burning with this truth right now.
Because in the last few days, I have seen with my own eyes both the beauty of boldness and the darkness in the silence.

But for your heart’s protection, I will add this:
Share in safety with a person you trust to hold what you share as priceless.
If you are married, share only with persons of the same gender. Sharing truth holds a great intimacy, and the enemy will exploit that fact by either crawling into your marriage or reputation if you share outside your gender.
Share with someone who will love you enough to hold you accountable and pray for you. This person will not always be the easiest person.
Deal with it.
Sometimes we need cheerleader.
But sometimes we need a coach.

And remember forgiveness, because sometimes the people you share with will fail.
I encourage you and pray boldly for you to receive these truths today.
You are your brother’s keeper.
God already knows where it hurts.
And He can and will use your story to bring healing to someone else.
IF you will trust, and surrender His light will shine over the words you speak.

when healing doesn’t come – five years later

We pray for healing. We wait for healing.

When healing doesn’t come, the faithful are tortured and infuriated by the idea a lack of faith may be the cause. While the Bible sites verse after verse about faith and healing, scripture also refers to some who were healed before they believed.  So, I don’t think faith is always the deciding factor.

However, reconciling the lack of healing to simply being God’s choice illustrates a God we don’t like to imagine. We don’t like the idea of a God who picks and chooses. We don’t like the idea of a God who picks bad men, and unholy men over babies and unselfish servants.

Then finally, to simply say we live in a fallen world seems trite. That statement doesn’t even contain enough words to address a question of such magnitude.

God loves us each of us and I believe His heart breaks for each of His children as they suffer. However, His will is bigger than our suffering. The span of what He is accomplishing is much greater than the scope of our individual lives.

I believe this hard truth: healing comes or does not come, and we do not get to know why.
And our trust in Him regardless of the outcome proves our faith. Because when we trust in His Love, His Goodness, and His Power even when the answer is no, the body of Christ shows the world we recognize Jesus’ sovereignty.

But I’m not suffering.
So, this hard truth is an easy statement for me to make.
I don’t have unexplained seizures. My liver isn’t dying. I haven’t endured the death of a child.  And because I am not suffering, God’s statement in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness” is comfort enough. To me, God’s grace is sufficient. It’s a blanket of love and comfort covering all my inadequacies.

However, I suppose to those who suffer or watch over the suffering, grace can feel like a blanket that just won’t cover their toes.
*************************************************************************************I wrote this post in 2012, five years ago.
If you read the original post you’ll find not only do I use the word “that” horribly, but I also had the audacity to end the post with a challenge. I challenged the suffering to remember God is the creator of the universe and He knows what He’s doing.
The End.
Forgive me. And thank God, He grows us from what we think we know.

While, I believe remembering God’s sovereignty is the correct posture of our hearts, I issued a challenge as if it were Simple. Easy. And not at all painful.

Five years later, I’m still not suffering with health or tragedy. But during this time, I’ve known disappointment, and crushed expectations. I’ve struggled with issues beyond my control and outside my ability to change. I’ve watched dear ones wander off, knowing my intercessory prayer is necessary, but ultimately their salvation is beyond my doing.

I’ve heard the words, “not right now,” from heaven a heartbreaking number of times.
And even worse, I’ve been in seasons in which I’ve heard nothing at all.
I’ve faced days when The Sad and The Tired, have nearly over taken me.
And in response:
I’ve yelled at the Father.
I’ve given the Son the silent treatment.
I’ve rebelled like a teenager with the car keys when Holy Spirit offered correction or boundaries.

So, I realize today the immaturity in throwing out a challenge.
Choosing to rest in God’s sovereignty regardless of circumstance isn’t simple.
It’s not fun like choosing to be “glass half- full” or “look on the bright side.”
It’s not a “yes, I’ll have fries with that,” choice.

It’s painful.
And letting go can initially take more strength than clinging tightly ever did.

But I still believe His grace remains sufficient.
And sometimes the answer is just no. And we don’t get to know why.
But I also believe  if you are willing to walk the distance between Thy will be done to it is well with my soul, He will walk with you the entire way.

 “Though the fig tree does not bud, and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength…” Habakkuk 3:17-19.

the awe of off-center

Recently I attended my church’s women’s retreat. We gathered at a Bible camp just outside of Brenham, Texas. Although I was only a couple of hours from home, the distance from the city and suburbs brought me closer to all the outside than I experience daily. So being an early riser, my coffee cup and I walked out to the middle of the camp’s courtyard to watch the sunrise.

As I sat on the pathway, I silently told God I was prepared to watch Him show off.
And then I asked Him to allow me to see Him in a new way.

As a side note I strongly encourage you – in fact, consider this a challenge: Make it a practice to ask God to reveal Himself to you in a new way. You don’t have to wait until you’re away from home. I’ve asked while sitting at a red light, in the grocery store, even during worship.
He will honor your request. He may not show up the way you expected. But He will NOT disappoint.

Meanwhile back on the path,
I sat in the darkness waiting for the light to begin.

At first, the darkness simply lightened. I began to see the outline of the tree tops and layers of dark, blue-gray in the sky. As the layers slowly became clouds, the distance filled with the sounds of birds waking up. I could hear acorns falling from their branches and softly hitting the leaves which had traveled to the ground some time before this morning.
I was all alone and yet surrounded by everything. Somehow part and still un-apart from the whole. Something like the centerpiece in a snow globe – but still knowing I wasn’t the center at all.

And then there was light.

A tiny glow across the tree tops at first. I realized this sunrise took longer than they seem to at home. On any given day, I can look up on my way to work and see it beginning. However by the next time I take notice, it’s over and the day has begun rushing off into tomorrow.

Everything rushes if you aren’t intentional about slowing it down.

As I watched, anticipation grew. A little more light. A slight glow. Slowly shadows come into better form and the details can be seen in the clouds. And as I sat, a peaceful urgency began to tug at my anticipation. I felt an increasing need to see the finished view. I felt like a child on Christmas Eve, or a mother waiting to meet her unborn baby.
Something amazing was going to happen and the whole of the experience was exciting.

And at the same time, I felt a sincere desire for this moment to never end. I wanted it to linger like a grand suspended forte, while all the details of what I watched soaked into my heart.

And light grew all around. And more of the world began to stir. And I looked over my shoulder and realized the piece of the morning I was watching wasn’t even the main event.

I wasn’t actually facing east. I sat watching God from my perspective, and amazing things were happening. But while I watched in awe in my tiny corner of the Off-Center, the sun was rising in a place I wasn’t looking. God’s glory and splendor abounded in front of me, and it wasn’t even the center ring, or the main event.

Something more amazing than I could ever imagine was happening in the Big Picture.

And I thought truthfully, this is what it is to love and follow Jesus.
We trust. We watch. We wait. We get excited when we catch a glimpse of God. But all too often, shortly after the first flicker of light, we become impatient and discouraged because we just don’t see enough fast enough.
Or we wake up remembering at first we are Jesus people, but as the day rushes ahead we forget to watch for Him, His leading, or His love.
We stop noticing. We stop trusting. We stop anticipating.
We feel like the center of a snow globe shaken, upside down, and waiting for the pieces to fall so we know where we stand.

Too often, we forget where we stand is on the Rock. We wait for the One who is able to do immeasurably more than we can imagine.
Too often we forget to trust, He is doing something.
It may not be what we expect,
But it will be good.
Because the Son has Risen. And in the end He does not disappoint.

this moment

I wish I had a funny Thanksgiving story to tell. Sadly, most of the humorous anecdotes for this holiday fall into the “you’d have to be there” category.  If you aren’t part of my family’s Thanksgiving tradition, you won’t find the humor in the story of the famed and precious fruit salad being prepared by meticulous hands and then those same hands dropping it to the floor. You also probably can’t appreciate my memory of the exploding green bean casserole. And of course, there’s always the sad tale of the smoked turkey tragedy. However, even my memory of that one is fuzzy.

Attempting to maintain normalcy, we planned to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner only a few short weeks after my dad’s death. The holiday fell on Dad’s birthday that year. In an emotionally strategic move, Mom decided to celebrate Thanksgiving the weekend before the actual date. She also ordered a smoked turkey to avoid sentimentality. My parent’s bickered non-stop in the kitchen as their official holiday schtick. I suppose by eliminating the actual cooking of the turkey, Mom thought she could avoid feeling sad Dad wasn’t in the kitchen complaining.

This is where the story gets fuzzy.
I don’t know whose idea it was to heat the smoked turkey in the oven.
I don’t remember why anyone one of us decided it needed to cook longer.
And I don’t know how it happened, but the pre-cooked, re-cooked turkey (now, practically turkey jerky on bones) ended up on the floor.

Possibly my memory isn’t even clear up to that point.
I know we decided to celebrate early. I know we didn’t eat turkey that day. I know we had laughter, but the strained kind, the kind of laughter which is only the precursor to tears. But I do know, it wasn’t a bad day.
Hard.
Out of sorts, like playing a warped record on an old turn table.
But not bad. Just a room full of people attempting to move forward from awful.

I don’t bring all this up to reminisce or make you sad. Or even because I’m sad. A huge amount of life has happened since those first hard days. My cup overflows, and I have more joy than ever. I’m finally at a point in my life where I can see ashes being made into something beautiful and immeasurably more than what I ever hoped they would become. I believe my life is proof our God wastes nothing and Jesus works in even the darkest details.

So, the reason I am sharing is …

Well, to be totally honest I don’t know why I’m sharing.
Maybe it’s to let you know, I know this day and all holidays are hard for many of you.
Maybe it’s to let you know other people have dropped the fruit salad, left paper between the cheese slices on the deli tray, or cooked a pecan pie until it became some kind of hard candy in a crust.
Maybe it’s to let you know family gatherings are about love and relationship, not about the dressing. Maybe, I’m writing to give you permission to laugh even when it hurts.

Maybe it’s to tell you, my family has broken a gazillion traditions looking for our new normal for the holidays, and most of it’s been good. As much as I love my childhood memories, I think I’m ok if we just keep trying new things and never settle into a pattern. I’ve learned although patterns offer some comfort, they can also keep you from appreciating the beauty born from change.
Maybe I’m sharing to tell you simply, I don’t know if this moment for you sits in ash. I don’t know if it’s blindingly beautiful, or somewhere in the middle of a rebuild and remodel.
Where ever this moment finds you, grab it with a wink and a smile.
Don’t miss it trying to make it better.

 

 

 

treats & tricks: a tale of darkness

My parents filled my childhood with all kinds of amazing stuff. Stuff like building puppet stages out of old boxes, creating a Halloween carnival themed birthday party, and setting up a tight rope in the front yard because my sister and I wanted to see if we could walk it. (Thinking about it now, that time was probably more my dad. Not even sure mom was home for that one…)

Halloween costumes were a big deal too. Many years they were homemade. Custom designed to suit purpose and creative vision. I learned my gift for making something out of nothing from watching my folks be creative.

One costume stands out above the rest. I think of it every time the first Halloween decorations hit the retail shelves. I remember it for two reasons. The first one being because it was so cool.

I wanted to be a robot, and my parents went to work making it happen. Two boxes covered in foil served as the shell, one for the body and a smaller one attached to the top for my head. They attached spray paint can lids on either side of the head like ears. Foil, flexible dryer tubing made the arms. It also used a C-3PO mask for a face. COOL!
(Did I mention this was the late 70’s?)

AND to make it even MORE AMAZING – instead of carrying a candy bag, Dad cut an opening in the front and taped a lunch sack to the inside of my costume. People could just drop the candy right inside the little slot.

The candy slot not only went with the robotic design on front. It was necessary. I didn’t have much range of motion. The boxy costume was awkward. The top box for my head couldn’t turn. I could only see directly in front of me. My line of vision traveled through the holes cut in the box, and then through eye-holes in the mask. It was like having tunneled tunnel vision. To make movement more difficult, once I fit my arms through the holes in the box and down through the tubing, I could only bend them at the elbow. However, the trickiest part turned out to be walking because the bottom of the box ended about my knees and didn’t allow for much stride. I had to really pay attention when I walked or my legs would hit my costume – wump wump. Wump wump.

But even with limited mobility, I was proud of my costume and excited to trick or treat. Well actually, excited and a little apprehensive describes my feelings better. See, I was afraid of the dark, and the creepiness of the season always nibbled my courage after sunset. It was Halloween after all. Who knew what lurked in the shadows. However, the idea of showing off my costume and possibly getting EVEN MORE candy because of my costume’s coolness mustered the courage I needed to head down the block with my sister while my parents stood outside and chatted with the neighbors.

About midway down the block, we came to a house with no lights shining. The yard sat totally black and bare except for one tiny sticker bush right smack dab in the middle. I think this neighbor kept that bush there just to keep us from playing ball in his yard and killing the grass. Who knows, I just remember my sister and I decided not to go to the door because the lights were all off.

And now we come to the second reason I remember the robot costume.

Just as we were halfway past – basically in the dead center of the darkened area – something jumped up from behind that loan sticker bush, moaned an awful holler and lunged for my sister and me!

Unable to turn my head and assess the threat, I screamed.

And I took off running in my box, wumpwump wumpwump wumpwump.

I had no idea what happened to my sister. But I could hear something chasing me.

SOMETHING CHASING ME AND MAKING HORRIBLE NOISES: “AEYYYYYY.  AEYYYYYYYY.”

IT WAS GETTING CLOSER AND

I WASN’T GOING TO GET AWAY!!

Wumpwumpwumpwumpwumpwump.

“AEYYYYY AEYYYY. HEY TONI WAIT! YOU DROPPED ALL YOUR CANDY! WAIT!!!!!”

 

It was an older boy from down the block.
Dressed in gray rags like a mummy.
He had laid behind that sticker bush in the dark spread eagle waiting for someone to pass so he could jump up to scare them.

He too was very proud of his homemade costume.

 

But when I bolted, I kicked the candy bag loose from inside my costume. I lost all my candy without knowing it because I was wumpwumping for my life.

Most of the time he I thought he was chasing me, he was actually TRYING to return my candy.

Does this happen to you?  Not mean boys in mummy outfits, BUT –

When you are in a dark season, or dealing with loss, or unexpected challenges

Do you find yourself running from imagined monsters – all the possible “what if” scenarios?

Do you lose focus when you can’t see the path clearly, and overlook the blessings provided during the tough stuff.

If you do, you’re probably human.
We all miss the trees for the forest sometimes. We see only the scariness of the big, dark Unknown, and miss the gifts, and kindnesses in the details.
I’m talking about:
The growth of trust, the encouragement from others, the slow steady root of patience trying to form. I’m talking about hitting your knees in surrender instead of hitting the walls of your boxed in ideas, and recognizing the lovely blessing in having that moment with Jesus.

In times of stress and darkness, try to remember our Heavenly Father is a remarkable creator. He not only designed you for a purpose, but He also designed the path you are walking. He’s filled it with amazing stuff to provide for you, protect you,
And challenge you.
And during the times your movements are limited and you have no clear vision for what happens next remember these two truths:

Jesus’ unlimited power is made perfect in your weakness
And NOTHING jumping from the shadows surprises Him.

 

Also, you may be wondering what my sister was doing while I was running away.
I have no idea.
And that’s the other thing about fear.
When we’re letting it chase us, we’re not able to support or encourage each other. And that’s just not acceptable. We’re all in this together.
That’s what it means to Love.

geckos and grace

It’s that time.

Spring seems to have sprung. This week we’ve moved from last week’s cool mornings to dog breath humid by 5:00 AM.

Warmer weather brings more than budding flowers, mosquitos, and flip flops. Warmer weather wakes up the geckos.

I’m not a fan of geckos for one reason.

But this post is not about geckos.

The reason I’m not a fan of these little darlings is because my fourteen-year-old daughter is terrified of them.

But this post is not about my daughter.

I drop my daughter off at my mother’s house each morning so she can catch the school bus. Then I drive to work. Like everybody else, our morning routine is lackadaisical until one of us realizes we have two minutes to brush teethe, pack lunches, put on shoes, be in the car, and get it moving toward Mom’s.

And every warm day at Mom’s it happens.

Apparently, Mom’s front porch is a five-star gecko hang out. Truly on any warm day, one can find at least two geckos hanging out. I’ve seen as many as five at one time.  The geckos make Mom’s front porch a great big problem.

Each morning, my daughter steps from the car while eyeballing the porch. I can see no dragons from my vantage point, but she swears she can see their eyes from the driveway. Each morning, she collects her backpack and laptop slowly, glancing back to the porch multiple times, as if waiting for an attack. Each morning, I hold my breath and opt not tell her to hurry. Each morning, she walks the few feet from the driveway to the porch as if she’s walking the green mile. Each morning, I still hold breath, glance at the clock and bite the sides of my mouth so I don’t yell something less than encouraging. Each morning, she reaches the edge of the porch. And stops. And looks. And takes deep breaths. And each morning I don’t honk. Not because I don’t want to bully. I don’t honk because I don’t want to wake up Mom who may still be sleeping inside oblivious to the fact that her home is under attack by an army of tiny geckos. And then finally each morning, my daughter steps up to the door, unlocks it, and walks inside to safety.

All of this feels like hours, when it’s probably even seconds short of a minute. But by the time this process is completed each morning, I feel rushed and flustered.

Accept today.

But this post is not about me.

Today, I remembered the beginning of the school year. I remembered how for weeks I walked my daughter to the door and unlocked it for her. As frustrated as I was to see my teenage daughter terrified of the tiny creatures, I recognized she was truly terrified. Even with me by her side, her steps were slow and timid. She remained watchful for the moment when her fears (of I don’t even know what) would come true. I couldn’t help but recognize what looked like ridiculous fear to me, was my daughter choosing to be brave. Each morning.

She’s bloomed in so many ways during our Winter months. Stepping out. Stepping up. And walking herself to the door- be it ever so slowly – but walking on her own- as I watch.
And today I watched with a smile.

See, this post is about Grace.

We’re all walking our own journey, but we’re called to live in community, hold each other accountable, and share each other’s burdens. Waiting on others to deal with their stuff is frustrating. Sometimes the reason it’s frustrating is because we’ve spent all our energy dealing with our own stuff. We don’t feel like we have anything left over to give to someone else. That’s when we need to remember Jesus first loved us, and offered us His grace before we were brave, or well, or smarter, or even good. Then If we remember our imperfections, and our own slow, timid steps to progress, it’s easier to patiently wait for others while they struggle to be brave, or well, or smarter, or even good.

I wonder, how many times God has wanted to honk at me for taking too long to hear His voice.

I wonder, how many people have bit the sides of their mouth waiting for me to wrap my mind around a truth. THE TRUTH. That I am loved by God and do not have to live in fear.

GRACE.

Offered to us.
And therefore, we offer it to others.

Because life is not the green mile. It’s a journey full of hope and challenges. It’s a journey with fellow travelers each carrying their own baggage, fears, failures and triumphs.
All of us are trying to find our way.

And here’s one more sweet truth:

Even though I don’t honk because I’m afraid Mom is sleeping, she usually isn’t. Most days she is waiting patiently with coffee, and a warm hug.

And she is eager to chat with my brave one once she opens the door.

How much more eager DAD must be for us to step inside, and walk in the Grace He has offered.
And He waits, patiently, with a smile, ready to chat, with the children He loves.

bob box

They called it a Bob box.
But I can’t imagine what size box I would need to hold a blessing of this magnitude.

They were new friends. So new in fact, acquaintances may sadly be a more accurate description of the relationship.

I mean we church together, and have Bible class together. And of course, we’re friends on social media. But we hadn’t become what you would call buddies.

They heard my husband was out of work.

We just mentioned it, “Prayers, please.”

We didn’t tell anyone we were struggling. And in truth, we weren’t. Not yet. On my income alone, we would have to do without all WANTs, to meet our NEEDs. And the math on paper proved meeting our needs would be a struggle soon. But we weren’t there yet.
And we hadn’t shared that information with anyone.
But I was struggling in a different way.

The weight and the worry settled on me when I looked at the lists and saw what the sum of the math equaled:
No. Wiggle. Room.
And after a couple of weeks, it would be even worse.

And so, my thoughts took this path:
I know the Lord will meet all my needs… but what if He does and then I misstep, mis-spend, or mis-place a coupon?
What if I make mistakes?

I really struggle with what it means to trust a sovereign God who calls me to be a good steward, and then allows me free will.  I don’t possess the power to thwart God’s plan. However, He’s not necessarily going to rescue me from the consequences of my choices. This creates for me simultaneously, a safe place and a suffocating vastness of potentially wrong choices.  In other words, “no wiggle room” equals the paradox of trusting the Lord while having the weight of the world sit on my shoulders.

And this is where the enemy attacks.
He whispers lies. He tells me all the reasons why God will choose to let us sink. He whispers of places of disobedience, of choices – even from long ago- that demand retribution in the form of struggle and late payments and doing without. Then with the grace and skill of an Olympic figure skater, he darts around the truth weaving his lies in and out of reality. He reminds me of the things on my wish lists, things I will still have to do without, insisting they are things I will probably never have. With speed, he glides to the idea that my husband is to blame. He races to point out all the times I’ve quietly ignored my own wants to make my family happy with their own. And then with no warning, the enemy flies into his triple toe loop: He condemns me for thinking so selfishly.

After all, I’m a mom. Moms do without. Moms sacrifice. Mom and Martyr are synonymous terms.
But I’m selfish. I’m failing as a mom. I suck.

The enemy sticks the landing.
Lies. Division. Hopelessness.
And I didn’t tell a soul.

But God knew just where my heart lay frozen and scared, so He sent His people to the rescue.

As I stated at the beginning, they called it a Bob Box. They named their act of generosity and love after the man who blessed them years before with a box of their own. And God used these people and their Bob Box of groceries and so MUCH MORE to remind me that trusting in Him should come with peace-

Not because I won’t make a mistake. BUT BECAUSE HE WON’T.

And all this happened to really solidify the idea I shared in my previous post titled fight dirty
Love is one of the best weapons against the enemy’s attacks.

I was sinking under the weight of the enemy’s lies. I was listening and believing all He whispered even while I read and sang the truth I say I believe. Then my friends ACTED in that truth. And my heart warmed, and my mind refocused on the God who never leaves my side. In that Bob Box, I found more than milk and eggs. I found friends. I found wiggle room in the budget. I found a quiet melody which replaced the vicious hiss of the enemy. I found God’s loving voice of reassurance and direction.

 

And I found confirmation.

I know now without a doubt.

The time has come to Fight Dirty.

Today, I encourage you to step out of your comfort zone and let someone know what it means to be loved.

Ask God to show you who and how.
THEN:
Send a card. Drop off flowers or cookies, or even a veggie plate. (You know, for those kinds of people.)
OR MAKE AN ACTUAL PHONE CALL using your voice and everything- instead of sending a text.
DO WHAT YOU CAN WHERE YOU ARE WITH THE GIFTS AND RESOURCES GOD HAS GIVEN YOU.
Playing by the same old rules, being passive, waiting until you feel comfortable about it, only gives the enemy time to undermine your confidence.
Break Free of the normal.

Be Bold.
Love Big.
Fight Dirty!

fight dirty

“What are you prepared to do?”

Malone poses this question to Elliot Ness in the film The Untouchables. I loved this film when it first debuted back in 1987. Kevin Costner read the lines of Elliot Ness, the do-good agent tasked with bringing down the gangster Al Capone during prohibition. Sean Connery played Malone, an Irish beat cop grizzled with wisdom and experience.

Ness wants to bring Capone to justice, but is determined to stick to the letter of the law.  In the film although Ness is the man in charge, Malone quickly asserts himself as mentor. He asks Ness, “What are you prepared to do?”
Naïve Ness’ best answer, “What would you have me do?”
And the response:
“He pulls a knife. You pull a gun. He sends one of your guys to the hospital. You send one of his to the morgue!”

See, Malone realizes the enemy they are fighting refuses to play by the rules. If the hero continues to adhere to strict guidelines and the letter of the law, he will remain the underdog being pushed around by the bad guy. So, Malone encourages Ness to step out, be bold, push back. But even this comes with a warning:
“If you walk through this door now you’re walking into a world of trouble. And there’s no turning back.”

God’s people are also fighting an enemy who refuses to play by the rules. He doesn’t care about right or wrong. Our enemy hopes for hurt feelings. He counts on injustice being met with our apathy.

And he’s hyper-aware of the time we Christians spend being right, while we sing in the pew, and avoid eye contact with others in the street.
Unlike cops and gangsters, the weapons our enemy uses aren’t knives and guns.

But be assured nonetheless, the weapons our enemy employs lead to wounds and death.

Jesus teaches in the Book of John, “The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy…” John 10:10.

Jesus says it. So it’s true.

What’s the answer then for God’s people when faced with such a menacing foe?

I believe we must stop being so predictable. So routine.

So stuck in our safe and benign religion and relationships.

We must

Fight Dirty and Love Big.

The walking wounded roam in and out of our lives daily. The enemy is banking on the fact most people remain too focused on their own to do lists, and personal judgments to notice these as opportunities to offer healing words. Repeatedly, we huddle in comfortable groups and bless each other while neglecting to offer the safety of transparency to people just outside our circle.

What if we strayed from our plans, our schedules, the normal scripts, and traditions we follow, and just chose to listen to Jesus?

What if we didn’t go with the flow when the flow became dishonest?

What if we didn’t go with the flow when the flow stopped moving forward?

What if we asked the hard questions? What’s next? How can we love better?

What happened to the Millers? I haven’t seen them in a while…

What if we offered kindness and pulled in closer when our feelings are hurt rather than pull away?

What if we became advocates for the underdogs and recognized lack of action as indifference?

What if we didn’t wait for confirmation that a meeting was in fact a divine appointment, and instead defaulted to just loving everyone we meet?

What if we remained transparent? ALWAYS. And instead of inviting people to join us in a safe zone, we simply created a safe zone in each conversation.

Smile.
Speak – real words. Don’t just chat.
Listen with concern.
Pray before the moment. Pray in the moment. Pray after the moment.

And then:
Our secret weapon, the big gun is revealed in the continuation of John 10:10:

“The thief comes only to steal kill and destroy; but I have come that you may have life, and to have it to the full,” John 10:10.

Choose to offer the love of Jesus to others.
Fight Dirty.
Love Big.
Break free from the normal.

What are you prepared to do?
and remember, if you walk through this door, NOTHING WILL EVER BE THE SAME.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” Romans 12:21