archives
Twenty Sixteen
BY YEAR
BY SEASON
BY TOPIC
I don’t love you like I should
I can pick you out in a crowd—the light in your eyes, the warmth of your spirit, the kindness of your actions. You are His, and I see Him in you. Even though we may not know each other, we are part of the most beautiful, authentic, contagious community in all the world. We’re called by strange but cherished names: Bride, Body, Church. Some communities are formed around perceived rights and shared indignation. Their fever-pitched cries are their bond. But we realize there is nothing good nor “rightful” in us apart from the God who loves us. So we do not yell. Rather, in quietness and trust is our strength. And while we’re forgiven and freed from the power of sin, we’re still a broken bunch. We’ve misunderstood each other, been paralyzed by our anger toward one another, and wronged each other a thousand times. Our deepest wounds have come from within our own community, not from without. Maybe because we expect more of each other. Maybe because we’re just that broken still. But like rocks in a tumbler, it’s our constant colliding into each other that smooths out our rough edges. And because of Whose we are, we know how to forgive—and how to be forgiven. How to move past our differences and into unity. So I’m not ashamed to say, “I need you.” As the psalmist wrote, you are “the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight.” And in the apostle Paul’s words: “You are my glory and joy.” I’m no good without you. With you, I experience more of Him and the fullness of His life in me. Jim Wilder said, “Some of our best characteristics can be harmful when applied too strongly.” You, dear ones, keep me from being too much Colleen. We are a diverse people with very different perspectives on how to navigate the tumultuous waters of life. But isn’t that the beauty of our bond? We agree on Christ but we still need our differences so that we become “less of us” and “more of Him.” Beloved, we are His and He has given us each other. And He has sent us out to be His hands and feet to a world that needs Him desperately. We are Life-givers, Joy-starters, Peace-makers. To the spiritually illiterate all around us, we are His picture book of love joy peace patience kindness goodness faithfulness gentleness, and self-control. I write this for my own sake because my heart beats selfish and I don’t love you like I should. You are the stunning Bride of Christ, the apple of your Father’s eye, a work of impeccable art—yet too often I treat you as a hindrance to my happiness. (When, in fact, you are my happiness.) In C.S. Lewis’ words: It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. You, dear children of God, are anything but ordinary. You are blood-bought and beautiful, and the world’s loudest and strongest pale in comparison to you. So I keep asking God to help me see you in light of your everlasting splendor and how to love you out of a deep-and-wide experience of His love. Because without love, I’m nothing but a loud annoying noise. So-what if I’m wrong about the small stuff (even if that small stuff feels really big at the moment)? When the dust settles on my grave someday, I hope the commentary on my life is not “She was right,” but rather, “She loved lavishly.”
The election, the holidays, and a mouthful of praise
I’ll admit: the holiday season can put me on edge. But this year it’s not just the frenzy of festivity that looms large on the horizon. The countdown to this election is a wee bit stressful as well. Can I get a witness? So this past week I’ve been amping up my “peaceful practices.” One of my favorite ways to color myself calm in the midst of stress is to tell stories of God’s goodness in my life. Like this one…. My friends Cara and Melissa have entered into our family’s food-allergy-ridden diet and cared for us in ways that have brought me to tears on more than one occasion. They’ve actually cried with me when I’ve shared how food allergies can isolate my son Jeremy in social settings. They’ve thought in advance of an event where Jeremy might feel left out and have prepared food for him so I didn’t have to. They’ve stocked the kids’ class at church with the one “candy” Jeremy can eat so he has a treat like the rest of the kids. Not only that, but when I’ve thanked them through tears for all their kindnesses, they’ve said, “You guys are family, and Jeremy is so special to us.” I cannot begin to describe what a balm to my heart these precious friends are. This practice is so simple, yet so sweet. By describing to someone God’s goodness to me, my own heart is cheered, quieted, and strengthened. I literally feel my whole body relax. I experience a calm and joy that are a direct result of sharing my appreciation aloud. To quote the incomparable Lewis: I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed. Body, brain, and soul, we are created to enjoy what is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, excellent, and praiseworthy. (See Philippians 4:8.) But we live in a world that celebrates duplicity, death, anger, shame, and self-worship. To give voice to God’s beauty in my life helps me overwhelm the darkness with light. So here’s an idea for us as we enter into the holidays and count down to this election. What if between now and November 8 we take time each day to tell a detailed story of God’s goodness to us? We can share with someone via phone call, FaceTime, audio message, or best of all—in person! There’s another habit similar to story-telling that also helps calm my anxious heart. In his book Transforming Fellowship: 19 brain skills that build joyful community, Chris Coursey tells of how he and his wife practice “3x3x3” before falling asleep at night: First, identify three things from your day that you feel thankful for. Give examples and take turns sharing. Next, identify three qualities you appreciate about the other person. Last, name three qualities about God you feel thankful for. I am struck by the simplicity of the exercise, but I feel grateful for the results! We feel better, lighter, calmer and safer. (And to state the obvious, you don’t have to be married to do this. Find a friend or roommate who also needs this kind of peaceful, grateful encouragement!) Dear one, in one way or another let’s keep talking about God’s loving kindness to us. Let’s overwhelm anxiety with appreciation. Let’s drown out the din of doomsday predictions with a mouthful of praise. Because God is that good (and He’s got it all figured out). “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.” Psalm 9:1
Keep the relationship bigger than the problem
I was deeply encouraged by this today! Hope you are too…. “Our normal way of living in our human nature is to value results and to look at people as those who can help us achieve what we want or look at people who are ‘getting in the way’ of achieving those results. This can result in manipulation and/or rejection. “But, when the Holy Spirit enters in and grows our new nature, when we grow to be more like God, we realize our relationships with others are more important than the problems we have with them. This changes the way we look at life and the people we connect with on a regular basis. Whether it is our business, the way we act in our families, the way we deal with our friends and neighbors, relationships have priority over results.” For Dana Hanson’s full article, visit the Joy Starts Here blog.
Bartimaeus
He was a blind man. A beggar. He lived long before Braille and social welfare, so he was probably far more desperate than the homeless man who holds a cardboard sign outside your car window today. He begged in order to eat. He scrounged to survive. But then one day there was a stir on the street, and the blind man inquired as to the cause. “Jesus is passing by” came the answer. And the man knew that after a lifetime of helplessness, this was his one chance at hope. His was a cry that came from the marrow of his soul: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And because the crowd could not understand what it was like to live in darkness and destitution, they harshly hushed him. But a rebuke could not silence his desperate hope. So he called out more loudly, Son of David, have mercy on me! And to the astonishment of the hushers, Jesus invited the blind man to come near. Not only that, but he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Blind man, begging man, what do you want the God of the universe to do for you? He dared to ask for a miracle. He wanted to see. Sight would mean he could live, really truly live. No more begging. No more groping about in the dark. And at the word of Him who first said, “Let there be light,” the man’s eyes were illumined and the first thing he must have seen was Jesus. And he praised Him and the crowd praised Him and the story of Bartimaeus has been told for 2,000 years now. ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ I have been Bartimaeus. You too, dear one? Do you recognize his desperation, his cry for mercy, the insensitive crowd? Do you also have limitations that make you feel like an outsider? I don’t have a permanent handicap and have never experienced true poverty. But I have known what it is to have socially awkward limitations. Due to years of insomnia, panic attacks, and depression, I have to guard my evenings, sleeping habits, and schedule. And because of a variety of chronic illnesses my son and I struggle with, even catching a simple cold can mean weeks (or months) of health complications for us. I’ve had to fight shame over admitting, “Evenings are difficult for me so we’ll need to leave early,” and “We’re sick…again.” Sometimes it can feel like a handicap of sorts, a relationship-buster, a crowd-upsetter. Not everyone can understand, and I don’t blame them. (I wouldn’t get it either if I weren’t walking in these shoes.) But these weaknesses have positioned me to cry out to Jesus. He is not ashamed of or impatient with my frailties. Weakness is where He meets me. Weakness is where He changes me. If I had no needs, no disabilities, I would miss out on His miracles. I would miss out on Him. There He stands, ready to show Himself to me, to act on behalf of me as I wait for Him (Isaiah 64:4). Where I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually needy—where I cry out for His mercy—that’s where I see Him working most powerfully in me. At times I am almost breathless at His goodness to me, a beggar. But before I sound even remotely like a victim, let me quickly confess…. I have been the crowd too. Resentful of another’s weakness. Short on grace for their shortcomings. Eager to hush their hurts. Here we go again…. Get over it already! Why can’t you trust God with this? Truth is, sometimes we don’t like each other in our desperation. Not many of us are the best versions of ourselves when we are needy. Our infirmities can keep us from fulfilling each other’s wishes and wants, leading to hurt and frustration. But look at Jesus’ tender response to a man of frailty, and let it be our model. The impatient ones who cannot accept your limitations? Be tender toward them. The loved one who isn’t handling her sufferings well? Be tender toward her. Perhaps your tenderness to their weakness will be the healing touch of Jesus in their life. So don’t take their reactions personally. This is, after all, not about us. This is about Him. He is doing something breathtaking behind the scenes and we are blind to it till He shines His light and says, “See! Look what I have been doing all along!” Are you longing to be married, dear one? Are you barren? Sick? In a bad marriage? Burdened till you feel you might break? Does this holiday season cause you to feel like a social misfit? Wait for God, dear one. Bartimaeus was blind and begging for years before Jesus walked by, but God had a miracle in mind all along—a miracle that would cause both the blind and the begrudging to praise Him. ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ Read the biblical account here and here.
Choosing love (when you’re falling in love)
Seven years ago I sat in a coffee shop, looking across the table at a handsome man named Eddie. He was not quite a stranger to me, due to weeks of long phone conversations and shared group activities—but he was a huge risk. And I was scared. Please don’t hurt me, my tender heart silently cried. But from what I knew of him already, I couldn’t help but get excited when Eddie stated his intentions that night. He wanted to pursue a serious, marriage-minded relationship with me. ~ ~ ~ ~ By the time you’re 33 and still unmarried, you’ve mourned the death of a thousand dreams and you have just as many reasons why you should never risk your heart with another man again, why you should run when you see weakness in him, why dating can feel like a prelude to devastation. So while I was completely enamored with Eddie and couldn’t wait to spend every possible minute with him, I was also ready to bolt at any given moment. Surely God would say “no” to this one too, right? Well, I’d be ready. With my running shoes on. I begged God to let me get it right this time. I wanted a “yes” or “no”—sooner rather than later. I’d already risked my heart with several great guys before. Each time it had seemed so promising, so right. What made this scenario any different? Was I just setting myself up for another heartbreak? I had a shelf full of waiting-and-dating books but deep down I knew there was no course of action that would guarantee a safe and blissful trip to the altar. God was not asking me to get it all right—He was asking me for my heart. He wanted me to cling to Him and hold my relationship with Eddie in open, surrendered hands. And that’s as hard as it sounds. So I asked Him to teach me. Show me how to love and be loved in the midst of my fears, Lord. I had to close my eyes to the “what-ifs” and worst-case scenarios that played like a film festival in my heart—and instead look long at Him, staying in His Word and pouring out my heart to Him in prayer. But I was a slow, awkward learner. I remember calling one of my best friends in a frenzy over another “red flag” I saw in my relationship with Eddie. (I’d put those running shoes on again.) Lisa listened patiently and then said in her characteristically truth-telling way, “You keep looking for red flags in this guy, but you’re the mess.” And she was right. I was. I was a bundle of nerves and misgivings, and I needed a big God to walk me through heart-rending places. In those months I learned a new way to apply Elisabeth Elliot’s advice to “do the next thing.” I would enjoy the next date and leave the next year—with all its uncertainties and unknowns—in God’s strong hands. Growing to love and trust Eddie was, in a strange sense, a beautiful discipline. I was facing some of my long-standing fears, opening up my heart in the very places it was most tender, and learning it was okay to enjoy what God was giving me. Have you ever been terrified of a good gift God is giving you? ~ ~ ~ ~ We girls tend to think of falling in love with “the one” as something that will be obvious and chick-flick-worthy. But for me it was a season of tenacious trust. Right alongside the butterflies in my stomach and the new sparkle in my eyes was a sobering awareness that only God Himself could give me the grace to love past my fears, to love without knowing what tomorrow looked like. And only He could get me ready for a covenant love—a love so supernatural that two sinners with a ton of baggage, living in an anti-marriage culture, could commit their lives to each other “till death do us part.” In the end, I chose to love more than I fell in love. And that ushered me into a beautiful marriage where we continue to choose to keep loving each other every day, in our best and our worst. We’re only six years into this lifelong covenant, but I have a hunch we’ll be choosing love to our very last day.
