Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,calling for you and for me. See, on the portals He’s waiting and watchingwatching for you and for me.
Come home, come home, you who are weary, come home; Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, calling, O sinner, come home!
I love this old hymn. We sang it often in my little Southern Baptist church in the suburbs of New Orleans.
Perhaps you grew up singing it too? It was one of those familiar end-of-the-service-hymns that just did an emotional number on your soul – a hymn chosen in hope – hope that if anyone in the congregation who hadn’t yet felt the call of Jesus on them, this would surely do it. And felt it I did, over and over. I probably hold some sort of world-record for walking more church aisles than any of my Presbyterian sisters. I was easily convinced that I was still a wretched sinner. Especially during the yearly revival. And, any previous aisle walking and sincerity often evaporated into thin air along this intrepid path to holiness.
And this was all before I was 12.
I lived with enough guilt as a child to assuage even my siblings’ guilt. I would sometimes confess to things I didn’t do because I thought – you never know – maybe I did do it – after all I was a known sleepwalker. I still remember the time my mother tried to convince me that I really wasn’t the culprit to an in-house-robbery-job.
But something must have happened to my heart during my teen years – I don’t think it was instant or intentional – but it happened none the less – where my guilt no longer bothered me – and the world looked much more loving and forgiving than my Atlanta church. So I chose the world. Happily, I chose the world. And they chose me back.
Now at this point you may think God quit calling. Perhaps you only get one or two shots at it, and if you reject him, then surely he has rejected you too. And then there are those really “big” sins, the ones too heinous in God’s sight to really forgive – so you eventually assume that you have crossed some proverbial line that brings you into the category of non-redeemable.
But, then Jesus – the one who walked this planet 2000+ years ago – kept calling. He proved himself to truly be the Good Shepherd who doesn’t give up on the lost sheep – the Father of thousands of prodigal daughters (and sons) – rejoicing greatly when His call on a prodigal FINALLY becomes effective.
Sometimes I think it just sounds too good to really be true. Jesus calling all sinners, come home. Is he really? Calling humans who seem to be doing just fine without his involvement and interaction? Calling a world that often times can seem so devoid of any sort of unified belief in the Triune God of the Bible?
I suppose it depends on your vantage point as to how you would answer that question (or questions). But as I sit in my private sanctuary and commune with an audience of One, reflecting on my own calling – that I like to refer to as my rescue – reflecting on the hardness and lostness of my own soul back at 22 years of age – I don’t think my story is all that exclusive to me – I think there are millions of prodigals out there wondering if the God of the universe could really love them knowing the depths of their depravity.
Wonder no longer. Amazingly and miraculously he continues to watch and wait and rescue and deliver and redeem. Over and over again. He never stops.
I know its true. It happened to me.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there, if I make my bed in the depths, you are there (Psalm 139:7-8)
Oh Lord. Lo davirm indeed. Thank you for last night. The joy that now floods my soul for an evening of community. And love. And fellowship. And delightful children and adults with talent.
It was an evening to remember. And perhaps before I forget anything, I should give a record for the joy that is in me—beginning with my newest Gastonia BFF Alex, who writes music and sings so very beautifully. Yet she began with a belly button song that was priceless. She’s adorable. Thank you for giving me Alex this year. May you continue to flood her soul with your joy and wisdom. She is indeed a soul sister.
Then Ana. (Aaaaah-na to me). She has a beautiful voice! It reminded me of Lily’s. Oh so soothing. She is fun! Lord, thank you for bringing her to us. Prosper her so that she may have a dynamite ministry in your name one day. Yes, she also closed the show with a seminary Spears number that was so fun and clever. She’s gifted. Thank you for gifting her.
And then came a new talent that I knew nothing about until a couple weeks ago – Keith & Olivia Ginn. Oh so very beautiful – and fun (Ikea! Ha!) – and talented! Lord! That was such a pretty song (Blessed Be The Tie)! I could listen to it in eternity. Such a dear couple who truly added grace to the evening.
So, now it’s going to get fuzzy.
Because I can’t remember the order.
But the Lee children! Oh my! What discipline and talent. What a family. Lord, they are beautiful and adorable and excellent. Whatsover is pure, lovely, admirable … surely Hann and Hazel are teaching them such things. I’d love to witness their family life.
And Lucas! Now with his brother Caleb – doing an adorable skit. Makes me giggle remembering them. Lucas is a treat for every show. Thank you for giving me the Browns for a long time. They are forever friends and I never want to lose that. Lily’s voice is perhaps my favorite voice in all the world – and you gave her to me for a long time. She sang an Easter song that silenced the hollers. Amazing how we can go from nonsense to reverence when Lily sings. Prosper them and bless them beyond their wildest dreams. That’s the thing, holy God, the people who participate in the show are truly exceptional in character and not just talent – that is what I see. There is this humility to their talent that impresses me greatly.
Then Elihe and Erin! Oh my. They are growing in grace and talent before our very eyes! Lord! That was incredible! And beautiful and difficult – and then the duet along with cello & violin – lo davrim (that’s no words in Hebrew) – I’m glad they love this show as much as I do. I can always count on them to step it up – and they did so in abundance last night.
Milling! Oh so adorable. Milling is a new pianist who played a number called Say Cheese. It was delightful, which matched her smile and enthusiasm and personality. Oh I’d love to be friends with this delightful girl. I think I’ll work at making that happen!
And that back table! Pedro, John, and Travis among others! Cracking me up! Because they hollered and rooted for them all with great zeal. And what a Student Council! Many of them showed up at 4:00 to help with the meal and twinkling décor. I’m going to enjoy this council. They are truly servant leaders, who desire seminary community, and are willing to make that happen.
Thank you Father, Son and Holy Spirit for gracing my vocation with such joy and blessing.
Three days from now I will finish a Philippians study with a few fabulous women at seminary. I’ve known most of them for only three short months, yet in that time they have become forever friends—friends I plan to spend eternity with—an eternity that hopefully involves downhill snow skiing—at least occasionally.
The topic for Monday night is twofold: anxiety and contentment. I taught it this summer to an older group of lovely women at my church. In that group I was the youngest—in this group I am the oldest. I am having a little anxiety of my own trying to decide how to teach on the very same subject that I taught on three months ago. Because, our anxiety and contentment issues are surely different when we are in our twenties, than when we are in our nineties. (Yes, I had two ninety-something year old women in Bible study this summer, who I also hope to snow ski with in eternity).
I plan to start our evening by asking: What brings you anxiety? I’m curious to see what they say. For when I asked this question to the older group, they gave answers such as: the health of my husband, my children don’t know Jesus, friends or family members out of work, and living with chronic pain. These are all legitimate, anxiety-producing issues. If I’m to be honest with myself and God, I have worried over these same issues in various seasons of my own life. And, yes, there is some tinge of anxiety every time I lead or teach a group of women.
But all anxieties are not created equal. Some are debilitating and some are just annoying and evaporate quickly. Like this “chronic pain” issue—that one stays with me. But after I teach—whether I think I’ve done my Savior justice or totally floundered in my words—my anxiety is over.
My husband thinks I have no anxiety—ever. He wishes I had just a little—the kind needed to keep yourself safe from danger—or a wife who cares just a little about what others may think of her housekeeping abilities.
But for many, anxiety is a very serious issue. And because I have little to no anxiety, perhaps I’m not the one that can speak to this subject. Or, I could flip that around, and say because I have little to no anxiety, I am the perfect person to bear witness to anxiety-free living. Personally, however, I attribute my anxiety levels to being a gift from God. And I am certain that the minute I was to take credit for a lack of anxiety, I would become a very anxious-ridden soul.
Expert or not, here’s what I think perpetuates an anxious heart:
We think too much of ourselves, and too little of God.
So, if I may elaborate …
One, we navel gaze … in other words, we worry too much about what others think of us and how we come across to those we think are thinking about us. (My husband loves to remind his clients–and me as well–that people really aren’t thinking about you nearly as much as you think they are.)
And two, we think we know what’s best for our lives. We think we have life figured out and know what we want. Yet we often want the wrong things, and when we don’t get what we think we want, we pout or become mad at God or others. So, when we rely on others to make us happy instead of relying on God and his infinite wisdom for our lives, what we get is an anxious heart.
I think our biggest problem is that we still haven’t discovered how incredible, mighty, lavish and holy our great God is.
We know what our wretched self is capable of—yet we care little about trying to fix the serious flaws that render us ineffective and unproductive toward lasting change. And we know way too little about how mind-blowing God can be in our lives IF we would surrender EVERYTHING into his powerful hands. He is in the details. He does know that we hurt. He does know that our children are still very far from him. BUT the fabulous truth is that he not only knows, he also cares and he is also near. He has never left you or forsaken you, not for a minute. But sadly, we stay ignorant of this knowledge, and continue to run our own agendas, inviting God into the mix when things aren’t going our way.
I think Calvin was right to start his Institutes with “knowing ourselves and knowing God.” For when we are honest about who we are—with a repentant heart—and seek—with that repentant heart—to know God as he reveals himself to us—in His Word, through Jesus Christ, by His Holy Spirit—in the smallest details of our everyday lives—I do believe we will get smaller, He will get bigger, and our anxieties will diminish.
It’s just my opinion. I could be wrong. But it surely wouldn’t hurt to try.
p.s. I greatly appreciated the wisdom from two books on these topics: Tim Lane, Worry Free Living, and Bill Barcley, The Secret of Contentment. I read them this summer in preparation for Philippians chapter four, and I thoroughly enjoyed them both. I whole-heartedly agree with their godly perspective on the topics of anxiety and contentment.
My husband, Tom, has a pair of genuine cowboy boots. His former cowboy boss and dear friend, Rex Dunlap, personally measured his foot in his office about 40 years ago. Yes, they are custom made. Tom’s initials are embroidered on the sides and at least one reptile lost its life in the making of these very cherished boots. I’ve witnessed the wearing of these boots. Once. We were with Rex and JoAn, walking a trail (more like a gravel road) in the mountains of Arizona 32 years ago. That’s the first and last time I’ve seen my husband put these boots on. That night, I had to peel them off his feet with as much strength as I could muster, thinking, if I ever get these off his feet, I hope he never tries to put them on again.
I’ve been trying to pitch these boots for over 20 years now. I hate clutter. I hate hoarding things I know will never be used again. Things just don’t carry much weight for me.
But they do for Tom. He loves to look at stuff from his past, and remember. They bring him back. He has a cowbell from his cheerleading days; bottles of stuff that remind him of his sales manager days, medals from his army days, pictures of his dance band, pictures of him dancing, awards from his time at Family Preservation, a bowling trophy, Indian Guide vests, and all sorts of soapbox derby memorabilia. That’s my husband. Yes he’s quite the collector. A collector of things that mean the world to him and only him. I think one of the things that keeps him going at 81 is the fear of what will happen to all these things when he departs this earth and enters eternity.
I walk past most of these things every day and just see clutter.
But not yesterday. Even though I don’t identify, I think I’m starting to get it.
And here’s what I got today. My very dear and precious husband is still going. And not just going, he’s finishing well. Even though some part of his aging body hurts every hour of every day – he hasn’t given up.
Yesterday, when i saw those boots sitting on a shelf in our garage – the garage I’m ready to turn into a pottery studio – my heart didn’t just see clutter. It reminded me of a life well lived and still being lived, and remembering a past filled with the mercy of God. You know that old saying: “He went out with his boots on.” While my husband may not be able to fit into these cherished boots at the moment, for the first time in 32 years I’m thankful they are still here. Because you know what, if he dies before me, I’m going to make sure he goes into the ground with his boots on (or at least in the general vicinity!)
I just noticed something I do. Often. During times of study. Or in my morning God-Time.
I keep reading until something so explosive in thought invades my entire being and then I stop. What follows next are combinations of jumping, dancing, hands lifted, feet kicking. That’s the physical part. Internally my mind is being renewed, my heart is becoming strangely warmed, and burdens are minimized to disappearing levels.
At this point, I’m done with my God time – I just can’t go any further – as I simply want to bask in that thought and moment – really feel and experience what I just read – and not let it go away as quickly as it came.
I was there just now.
Without further ramblings here it is: Joy + Poverty = Generosity.
It’s based on 2 Corinthians 8:1-5 where Paul is referring to the Macedonia churches.
They are joyful and they are impoverished – YET they are generous.
I’m not so sure why this resonates so with my soul at the moment but it does. Perhaps because just this morning I was reading Luke and this passage jumped off the page: “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (Luke 12:15)
Or, perhaps because I was watching Fox News last night, and hearing Donald Trump speak about his run for President. I don’t know.
But something tells me that the opposite of this beautiful equation also rings a little too true in our present age: “anxiety + wealth = stinginess/never having enough.”
I agree with the liberals and a few conservatives – the divide between the rich and the poor in America is becoming increasingly wide – even though we claim to be a Christian nation – we “Christians” have no qualms about fattening our 401Ks and accumulating “stuff” only to be auctioned off at $2 a box years from now when we are dead and our children are trying to get rid of said-stuff. Can you tell I recently went to another auction? Perhaps that too has something to say about this current track that is running in my head.
These are the messages that make me want to not only declutter – but also repent. I pray they strangely warm your soul as they did mine. And not just warm us or convict us, but also cause us to go out and do something generous for someone who needs to experience Christ-like generosity.
If you could have any vocation on the planet what would it be?
That was the question my husband and I were contemplating just before I graduated from seminary. He assured me that wherever God called me, he would follow too. Just as I had followed him to his beloved state of North Carolina over a decade ago when he graduated from seminary, he was ready to go anywhere the Lord called—preferably near an ocean.
So, in the presence of my husband, and out of the overflow of my heart, I blurted out, “I’d run a camp.” Knowing me all to well, Tom said, “You couldn’t run a camp – you like the city too much.” Again, without much thought, I said, “Then, I’d run an urban camp.”
That conversation took place over 10 years ago. A conversation that God took notice of – a conversation that went into my heart as a pipe-dream desire. And yes, several years after it was flippantly verbalized in the parking lot of the Red Lobster restaurant – my ultimate vocation became a reality.
Now mind you, in His mercy, God indeed put his own spin on the desire of my heart to run a camp. For what He gave me was Brookstone Camp in Charlotte. The camp runs for six weeks in the summer, led by one of my heroes in the faith, Kristy Davis. Kristy could run a camp full time. And after one week of running and planning a camp with a team of friends, I realized quickly, one week was as much as I could handle. But what a week! It’s the best week of my year.
The children are gracious and wild and loving and moldable. What’s not to love about that!? Every night during that week my heart is filled to overflowing.
We sing and we dance,
we listen to godly men speak the truth about God into their lives,
we make joy boxes and write character words on stones,
we teach them how to say Jesus loves you in other languages and to sign the twenty-third Psalm,
we have tea parties and etiquette lessons over scones,
and end the three hours over cheese sticks and cookies while having whole group Bible trivia.
And that’s just some of the things we’ve done over the past three camps we’ve been blessed to participate in.
Our week this year is July 20.
Not even a whole week.
Monday through Thursday.
Not even a whole day. 1:00 to 4:00.
I need help. While I love doing this, God did not equip me with all the skills to run a camp. It takes dancers (thank you Kim!), and preachers (thank you Matt!), and story tellers (thank you Aynn & Kristy!), and crafty ones (thank you Wendy!) and organized ones (thank you Julia!) and silly ones and athletes and those who simply love children and love to serve God in the most delightful way.
I need prayer. Even if camp is not your thing – or you are too far away to trek to Charlotte for four days – prayer is essential to pulling off a Christ-centered Fun Camp.
Would love it if you’d consider joining us for a day or more.
I wish you all a happy day.
You who have the hardest vocation on the planet.
The vocation that never stops.
The vocation that always gives.
The vocation that puts everyone else first.
The vocation that has the greatest blessings
and the hardest sorrows.
But there is one mom in particular that is on my heart at this moment, and it is my own.
She’s truly something.
Other worldly something.
Because all that thrills her soul is her heavenly Father.
She talks about Him continuously.
She has no greater pleasures than seeking Him first and making Him known.
She cares deeply for all her children.
Yes, four children before 23.
All born in New Orleans.
And then there are the hundreds of other children that didn’t come from her body.
She cares deeply for them too. Rachel, Coley, Kammy, Buddy, Kathy, Bob … You know who you are.
Here’s what I love about her:
Her faith is rock solid in Jesus Christ, which produces an overflowing joy emanating from her at all times. And if she’s not talking about Father, you can be sure she’s thinking about him.
She’s Polyana. She only believes in what is pure and lovely and true.
She’s also Walt Disney (the early years).
She’s imperfect—never needing anyone around her to be perfect either. Growing up, her expectations were never very high for her very imperfect children – which really takes the pressure off of all who are around her. You can be yourself, and it is good enough.
She’s fun. Four children in your early twenties—living in the projects with a husband who shipped out for months at a time, doesn’t sound like fun. And for her it must not have been. But for us kids? Well, we had a ball. Beignets, Mardi Gras, Halloween, snowballs, Christmas, Easter, ice cream trucks, playing in the streets, building forts out of blankets in our rooms, playing playing playing – we had fun every day of our lives – and every night ended with prayers in bed. Amazing that we found time to go to church twice on Sunday and Wednesday nights. For much of my childhood, my mom was the church pianist. So while she played the piano at choir practice, we ran wild throughout God’s house.
God’s grace to my mother has not been without effect. We really didn’t have much – in the way of worldly possessions – those early years – but God never let my mother out of his sights. And His grace to her has produced a woman after God’s own heart. She works for free for her favorite Christian retreat center, she still plays the piano at her church, she runs the community Bible study in her town – and she still has hundreds of children. And that’s just only a few of the things she is STILL doing in her mid-seventies.
Ma, I love you. You have been a fun, godly, passionate mother. I’m very thankful that the Lord gave me you as my mother. Eternity will be a blast with you and Jesus.
It’s January. January 23rd to be exact. And I still haven’t gotten with “the program.” I think my last year’s theme of Rest didn’t cease on December 31 and I am still in rest mode. Yet it is time to move on to another life theme. Because, I realize that God indeed gave me rest for my body and soul, refreshment for my mind and heart, and I now feel quite rejuvenated.
Just last week, I almost bought a new home. The word new may be a bit misleading. The home was built in 1966 and it looked like nothing had been done to the home since the ‘80s. Yes, it was a complete fixer upper – but thankfully my husband and my God had better sense than I did – and I didn’t get what I thought was a desire of my heart. One week later – my BFF reminded me that we should be extremely thankful when God doesn’t give us what we think we want in the moment.
But, oddly enough, the desire to pack up all our belongings and move two blocks down the street to fix up a fixer upper was attractive to me – making me realize it’s time to lean into 2015.
That was the first lesson – rest over, get moving!
I came away from that experience with other lessons, not to mention a renewed gratitude for the cozy home the Lord did give us 21 years ago.
Another lesson from this fun adventure was that I sensed the Lord was telling me: you CAN have that house if you want it, BUT I don’t want you to have it. You see, the house was auctioned off – and my generous husband was the highest bidder – however, the highest bid was not enough for the sellers. We were given the sole opportunity to offer more but that is when we both realized that God was in the midst of our decision and His answer was NO.
[My husband came to the realization that I was looking at too much Property Brothers.]
Having this sole opportunity also made me think that God often says, ok, you can have what you want – but you’re not going to want it later. It was another one of those lessons that He has shown me over and over again in my life: His ways truly are higher than mine.
So, one week later, sitting in my cozy, closed-concept livingroom that was remodeled, floor to ceiling, 4 short years ago, I am experiencing shalom. The kind of shalom I get from realizing that God is watching over me, protecting me from all sorts of things that would seek to rob me of my shalom.
Thank you Holy God. The nearness of You is my strength.
we were to dwell on three things?
and advancing the kingdom of God.
I hope you will stay with me while I break these down.
I don’t even have to get out of bed for this first one. And yet, it’s often the first place I go during my GodTime. Dwelling on God’s ways brings me into His presence. Simply being grateful for the way He does things – the way life unfolds – the beauty of order and perfection – the knowledge that He hasn’t left me or forsaken me – not for one minute. That sort of dwelling. Selfishly, I tend to spend much of my time reflecting on His ways in my life – looking back and seeing his hand – oh how I love that. It’s one of those personal proofs for God’s existence. Remembering is one of the greatest gifts given to man – and it would be so satisfying to dwell there momentarily each and every day. I think it would change our attitude – change our countenance – change our nature – rejuvenate our mind … the benefits are endless.
I love thinking about eternity. I tend to make dates with friends to snow ski most afternoons in the new earth – it’s one of my favorite ways to picture eternity. However, I am sure that my own ponderings about heaven are not nearly as glorious as what it will truly be like. Saints – far more mature than I could ever hope to be – tell me this often, especially when I insist they ski with me at least every now and then.
But there’s something about setting your mind on things above that puts our earthly lives in a better light. So my head goes to questions such as:
What sorts of things could we do daily that would have eternal value?
I come up with one word: Kindness.
Practically speaking, wouldn’t it be great to write at least one encouraging note—everyday—in 2015? In this age of internet – this act of kindness is practically effortless!
And last, Advancing the kingdom.
I love the notion of advancing the kingdom – I also love knowing that God delights in using his daughters to do it. Not that he doesn’t delight also in his sons – but I think some women have a mentality that God uses the men for the big stuff – and us women just get to clean and cook so as to free up our men to do the really important things. With all the modern conveniences this world affords to middle aged women with no children, cooking and cleaning can be done in a fraction of the time compared with just a few decades ago. Microwaves, restaurants, freezers, wrinkle-free shirts … these are a few of my favorite things. Because! they free us women up to advance the kingdom. Kingdom advancing activities are limitless.
When I think about such things, my head always goes back to my twenties when I asked the Lord to use me.
Here’s the story:
One week, while working on staff at Central Church in St. Louis, the Minister of Pastoral Care was on vacation. I forgot that little tidbit of information one morning as I asked the Lord to use me in his service. Of course I was thinking something big and important – something manly perhaps – just kidding – sorta – but anyway, Don Fortson, Sr. was on vacation.
Now, I, as the Assistant to the Pastors, received all of Don’s calls that week.
Can I just tell you, this was not the week I had in mind when I asked God to use me.
The kingdom advancing activities he called me to didn’t feel very kingdom advancing. The first activity I was called to was taking cookies to an elderly shut-in man. His name was Clyde and surely he is in eternity now. He called the church – as a parishioner in good standing – and wanted the pastoral care minister to bring him cookies. So I did. He was grateful and kind. I hope to look him up in eternity.
Then there was Joy. She was not a parishioner – but she lived a couple blocks from the church and called asking if someone could take her to pay her light bill and buy a refrigerator. Joy and I had a yearlong relationship of carting her around St. Louis. I still snicker as I recall her squeezing out the door of her apartment so as not to let me see anything inside. I still wonder what was in there.
And then the last gift that week was Cindy. Her mother called our church telling us that Cindy was on her way to St. Louis to attend Washington University – a California girl with enough money, so it seemed, to fly here but with little else. She had no place to stay, no transportation and knew no one. Cindy was delightful. The Lord was very very good to her and we found her a place in a Campus Crusade dorm near Wash U that was perfect. I sure hope she is advancing the kingdom and remembering how lavish God was to her 27 years ago.
I’ve said it before, but it is worth mentioning again. We never know how the Lord is going to use us to advance his kingdom. But I think he uses us in ways that mature our godly character – and make us look more like Jesus.
So these are the three things I wish for myself and my sisters this new year – dwelling and lingering in places that are far too wonderful to comprehend. Never forget this one thing dear friends, He is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us. So let’s get asking! (cf. Ephesians 3:20)
Ever since I married the man of my dreams, returned to my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, and allowed his Holy Spirit to invade my entire being (most days I hope!) – I’ll have to say, I’ve led a rosy life. I’m in year 32 if you’re wondering.
That’s not to say it hasn’t come without trials. And at the time of this writing—I waited to publish this—I am smack in the middle of one of them. It’s bad. Very bad. At least that is how I see it. And it has me questioning myself – and God – with questions like:
Can I really hold up and represent Christ in this trial? … and glorify God? … and have everything that comes out of my mouth be pleasing and loving?
No! I can’t hold up. I’m not representing Christ well at all. What is coming out of my heart and mouth is not pleasing or loving. The “trial” (that’s what I’m calling it) has gotten to me greatly.
So of course I must go to my knees, fall on my face (figuratively of course) and say, I can do none of those things unless God gives me the grace and His Spirit and wisdom to do them. It is times like these—when smack in the middle of the experience—that I realize I can do nothing apart from Christ. It is times like these that peaceful and loving and intelligent words escape me.
And oh how I’d like to say the perfect thing to silence the enemy. But I never seem to get those kinds of words when face to face with the enemy. Yes, in the moment, I now see my trial as my enemy.
In my head when I am alone, several verses in Scripture come to mind – but then I have to sort them all out–with the help of the Holy Spirit–as to which one best applies to the situation at the moment.
Am I to dust the dust off my shoes and make a run for it? (cf. Luke 9:5)
Am I to ask for powerful words that will cut like a knife into a hardened heart? (cf. Matthew 12:34)
Am I to love the other deeply and let that love cover a multitude of sins? (cf. 1 Peter 4:8)
Am I to turn the other cheek? (cf. Matthew 5:39)
Funny how I can justify what I’m thinking and feeling in the moment with several passages from Scripture. But I’m still left in a miserable state and wondering the best plan for the current trial that has rendered me a complete mess. The passages like “turn the other cheek” and “love one another deeply” are far from what my heart is feeling. I’m definitely in imprecatory Psalm mode.
So, perhaps in times like these it is a powerful thing to pray while opening the Word of God with a desperate heart – and let the Word flow over me like a balm in Gilead. Yesterday I went to James – because I really wanted wisdom – God assured me that He gives it lavishly – and yet by that evening wisdom went out the window – So this morning I went to Ephesians 4 – and verses 2 & 3 seemed perfect for my trial and helped my soul.
Be completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.
But I don’t feel humble or gentle or patient and have no love for the other.
But I’m not alone in my trial.
My husband – of course is the only calm in this storm at the moment. Can I just tell you how fabulous he is under certain pressures not his own?
And then I called my mom. That had its soothing moments as well. She prayed multiple times throughout the conversation, and then as our conversation was about to end she expressed her delight in me in such a way that it had me in a puddle of tears – even now as I write there is this puddle – I must stop – tears are not the thing at the moment – don’t let the enemy see you cry, right?
Yet in this moment, something mystical and otherworldly is happening in my soul. My tears of anger and hurt and disappointment have now turned to tears of gratitude and comfort. Through my dear personal saints and because of God’s love for me, I am able to bear up under the trial. Shalom invaded my heart even though the trial went on. But it indeed was one of those momentary trials. And I have to wonder, did it achieve for me a glory that outweighed the trial? While I don’t see it yet – I sure hope that is indeed the case.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:16-18
P.S. This particular trial is now over—I’ve had at least two others since I wrote this one—and I am obviously in perpetual student mode, never mastering any trial—self-inflicted or other-inflicted—and I find even then it’s hard to know what I’ve brought on myself because I have a very unguarded heart. This also has me wondering – is my heart too vulnerable? – and is there such a thing as being too vulnerable? Perhaps that’s a chapter in itself. But if you’re looking for a bottom line from me, this is what I think in the moment—the moment I actually will publish this publicly for the whole world to see if they so choose … our trials really are temporary—at least mine are—and I don’t think I’m atypical. And God is there—and He provides his word and his children as the necessary tools to get us past any and all of them. And here’s the thing—they really do produce fruit—perhaps we can’t see it in the moment—but it’s coming—wait for it! And also, remember this—this is the lesson I’m taking away from it—I need to learn how to deal with messy relationships in a godly fashion. I’m still a long way off, but perhaps I’m not nearly as pitiful as I was 32 years ago, just starting out on the journey of grace. Oh that reminds me, others need this grace from me that I lavish on myself. And one other thing, there are no formulas. Stink.