Inspiration

I have been thinking a lot about intention lately. Last week's sermon and the study I led on Friday dealt with this topic. The Nooma study entitled Shells asked hard questions of us, like why are we so busy? What is our life about? Do you have a hard time saying no? Or, better yet, what have you said yes to? 

Soren Kierkegaard said that a saint is the person who can will the one thing. He was talking about the kind of person who knows exactly what their life is about. Does our lives reflect the "one thing"? 

My friends and I would always jokingly say that if you didn't know the answer just say Jesus because Jesus is always the answer. 

And isn't He? He should always be the One to drive our focus, our things. 

A few weeks ago I was really struggling with feeling like I was being ineffective. Like, how am I even making a difference? And I think it is always the idea of the grandiose that makes me feel defeated. Right now in the season of my life I am unable to do everything. Mother Theresa I am not. I work 40 plus hours a week and I have a family {an unbelieving spouse and two sons}. And that, when you come to think about it, is the biggest mission field I have right now. I can be Christ's ambassador to my family and in my work. I can focus on it because it is important. I shouldn't view it as something that hinders me, but as a place where I can shine Jesus' love.  

The other time I have can be filled in with responding to the opportunities God gives me. I can give because the Giver of everything enables me to do so. And maybe in the future I will have the opportunity to foster or go on mission trips or whatever. But for now I heed the call that I have. And as long as I answer, it is enough. 

I have been intentional about visiting with the elderly who live in the assisted living home next to the church. I met Bernice outside and we walked and talked this morning. Come to find out she went to Poly High School at the same time as my grandparents and some aunt and uncles. As we neared the end of the street I looked up and saw the name of the cross street: Inspiration. And I smiled because I truly felt inspired. In this small way, in this 30 minutes, I was making a difference to Bernice. 

I'll leave you with a benediction of sorts from Shells as my prayer for you:

"May you drop your shells {those things that we hold onto} in the pursuit of a simple, disciplined, focused life in which you pursue the few things God has for you. And may you be life Jesus, able to day no, because you’ve already said yes."

Can I get an "Amen"?

A Stumbling Hope

Well, this post is a long time coming. And as much as I have always endeavored for my blog to be transparent and honest, this feels almost too vulnerable for me, but here it goes anyway {may God use it...}

I have had a desire to simplify. I have been going through and purging, donating, etc... Amid my books, I came across an activity I had my women's group complete a few years ago. On a piece of paper I had typed each person's name and the phrase "You make a difference by..." and everyone wrote an example of how that person made a difference in the lives of others. I looked at the responses written on my paper which included; walking with others, listening, providing encouragement, having a servant's heart, leading, opening your heart to help others learn/feel loved, and praying and being so intentional in all that you do.

It was the last statement scrawled across the paper that caused me to pause: being so intentional in all that you do. It was just ten hours earlier in church that I was listening to the message from 1 Peter. Be self-controlled and alert. When we fail, we put ourselves in danger. Behaviors that become addictive can erode our relationship with Jesus. The message was so relevant and probably not very popular with people who don't appreciate being called out. But I am glad for preaching that doesn't worry about offending. I think we need to be offended more. 

The homework was to identify people who live their faith intentionally. And I can be very intentional about some things. But, by looking at me you can see my struggle. I am not a closet alcoholic or narcotic drug user. My drug of choice? Food. I am an emotional eater.

I can pinpoint when it all began for me. A time where I felt unsafe. The years where I suffered silently because another chose to take my voice and so much more.

And, I wanted to shove it all down. I wanted to silence the pain that I couldn't even fully comprehend as a child. I wanted to fill the void that made me feel like I was worth absolutely nothing. But, I never could. I eventually found my voice. I eventually came to know God and His redeeming love. Those old habits, though, they are like a deceptive safety net.

Instead of clinging to the promises I know to be true, it is shockingly easy to succumb to old patterns. This 75 extra pounds I carry is a physical representation of how I really haven't trusted God completely. Not with everything. Not when I feel truly unsafe. I haven't been intentional with this area of my life. And I will not sugarcoat the fact that it hinders me and makes me feel ashamed {and somewhat worthless - and isn't that what I was battling to begin with?} And so it is with the flesh: a vicious cycle.

But, there is hope. There is always hope if we choose to go to the source of hope. And I have hope. As I was typing this, the words from "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" played: love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. 

My all. All that I am in Christ. 

He who began a good work in me and you will be faithful to complete it! I may stumble, but I will not fall, because I am upheld. And I know in my heart that He uses everything. Even the ugly, especially the ugly things in which He turns beautiful in His time. My life is nothing if not a testimony to that. 

By and By

I just took some medicine for a migraine. I took a nap earlier. When you can sleep, the pain goes away. But, there is the waking, and so many people cannot sleep for their pain is too great anyway. So what to do for the sleep-deprived and soul-weary?

We can keep others' sufferings at a distance. We get comfortable with our happy sphere of life. We try our best to keep our bubbles intact and impenetrable, until one day they are not. It all feels overwhelming tonight. My head pounds, my heart aches, and the tears fall for those who suffer {people I know personally, people in Colorado, people all around this big sphere}. I ponder the response. How, in our daily lives, do we respond to others' sufferings? How can I not ignore the broken and hurting all around me? And sometimes I think we try to choose the convoluted answers, when it is more simple, straightforward, but by no means easy. The response to others' suffering should always be compassion {to suffer with} as we continually point to the God of all comfort.

The last few years, I have really grown to appreciate hymns. I love reading the stories associated with them. I love the unwavering theological truths contained therein. I love that no matter what, there is the message of hope. When things well up and seem so hopeless, when things are seemingly beyond repair, there is hope.

Hope that things will be made right, whole again. 

And that is our promise to which we cling. In this world there will be trouble, but He has overcome this world. Things will be made right. 

By and by, when the morning comes, 

When the saints of God are gathered home, 

We'll tell the story how we've overcome, 

For we'll understand it better by and by.

In Which We Move Beyond the Walls

Today has been a good day. Today was a day that started by moving out beyond the walls of church. And for me, it couldn't have been better timing. It may seem hard to understand, but over the last month or so, I have grown fidgety. Like, when I am sitting in a pew, I fidget. I find it hard to just sit.

I have been thinking and praying about this. I have been reading. Droves of people are leaving church, becoming disheartened. Declining churches are continuing to decline while growing churches continue to grow. However, they are growing with previous churchgoers, not the lost, unchurched. My heart grieves and I think that overall the lost aren't just going to show up to sit in the pews either. They aren't drawn in by the liturgy. They aren't breaking down the doors to come to the Lord's table {even if they were led to partake by the Spirit, would they feel welcome?}.

Don't misunderstand me, I am not saying that there is anything inherently wrong with tradition. But, it seems that traditions have an uncanny ability to morph into legalistic institutions that will eventually die out with those  who cling to them. There is a deep affinity for how church was in the 1950's and 1960's. And there is this "But-this-is-how-we-have-always-done-it" mentality while the Lord says, "Behold, I am doing a new thing! Can you not perceive it?" And we don't really. Not entirely. Not when we come to church for us, to feel good, and not for the purpose of preparing to re-enter the mission field. It's almost as if, when the meager attempts to reach others have failed, we write it off {blame society's moral decline}, and continue the status quo.

This morning, I saw the happiness in Esther's face as she was read to, I listened to stories from Al's full life, I heard Bernice exclaim how beautiful our sanctuary was as she returned from her walk, and I held Hilda's hand as she teared up and told me she didn't want us to go. After we had sang "Amazing Grace" to Barbara, who was bed-ridden, her family asked her if she wanted to hear another song, or if she was too tired. She said emphatically, "I'm tired, but I'm not giving up." So we sang "Holy, Holy, Holy" very softly. And it was hallowed.

My heart resonates with Barbara. I am not giving up either. I am not giving up on the lost or the Church. I know we are all imperfect, all broken, but we are still the body, the Bride of Christ. And as such, we continue to reach out. Beyond ourselves, beyond our walls.

How Fire Works

Sitting at home on the Fourth of July and thinking about the holiday. You know, the celebration of Independence Day, Bar-B-Ques, parades, people adorned in patriotic garb, flags everywhere {someone even stuck a flag in my lawn}, and fireworks. Growing up, this holiday terrified me. I enjoyed the fireworks in the sky, but the illegal, street variety sent me indoors. Sparklers, which were always a huge hit with the neighborhood kids, were off limits to me. I was fiercely afraid of fire.

I knew that fire was destructive, powerful, and painful. But, there is a fire that is refining instead of destructive. Scripture refers to God as "a refiner and purifier" (Malachi 3). This work of becoming holy is no joke and so necessary. We are the ones, after all, who fill our lives with the impurities of our selfish desires and false idols...

And there is fear and trembling with this fire, too, as we work it all out. The heat can be intense and the afflictions indeed painful, but I know this Refiner. I know His work, and I trust Him with my life because without Him I am nothing.

{Short and to the point tonight, dear ones, as I am going to go make berry shortcake for Jaden and possibly walk down the street to see the show. xo}