Goggles & Boots

Power surges are the worst. Earlier this afternoon, I had sat down to blog for awhile -- was going along, just writing away when everything shut down, just like that. Ugh!! We've had about 5 of those surges in little Richey, MT, today -- a few of them during my husband's sermon. Not sure what's up, but it certainly isn't conducive for maintaining your train of thought. Anyway, I'm trying again.

Right after church today, after everyone had left and my husband and I were picking up around the sanctuary, I told him, "I think this is one of those times when the difficulty of the week was commensurate with the impact of the message." Really, it was a hard week. The reasons for that aren't the point -- just that it seemed like we were slogging through muck, each in our own ways. Fashion aside, I should've just put on my knee-high black rubber boots and left them on all week. Maybe it would've helped me maintain a more helpful, giving perspective toward my husband and kids on a number of occasions when what came out of me didn't look like or have the fragrance of Christ.

But back to Paul's message. His message was called "Caution: God at Work" and it was based on the imagery in scripture about the church being like God's building; specifically, his building materials -- living stones. And if you're building with stones, what are the tools used to shape them? A hammer and chisel. While I haven't worked with stones as far as building something vertical and needing to chisel, I did build a flagstone path several years ago in our front yard. It was hard, sweaty work, and it required piecing the slabs of white stone together this way, then that way until I found a fit. Sometimes if I needed to trim a chunk off, I'd just take a hammer and get rid of a few unwanted inches here or there. It was obvious to see what needed to happen to the stone to make it the most useful for my path.

For us, though, it's not as easy to recognize where the inner chiseling is taking place. How will we respond to God's work in us if we aren't aware of the specific areas that need chiseling? This morning Paul talked about some ways to recognize it. What triggers anxiety and fear in us? Anxiety and fear are close cousins. What areas of life do you find yourself anxious over? Relationships? Money? What people might be thinking of you? How about what triggers frustration and anger; both responses to unmet expectations. Again, two closely related reactions.

God, in his sovereign wisdom, allows us to choose to yield to his chiseling work or resist it. His heart toward us is one of a Father, and he would say to us, "I love you as you are. I accept you fully. But I love you too much to leave you this way. Will you submit to my chiseling work?"

If we yield to his work, our sin and self stuff gives way to Himself. We resemble him more and more in our actions, words, attitudes, countenance, thoughts. And if people see Jesus in us, they are drawn to Him. Isn't it amazing that that's how God has chosen to work? Drawing people to himself through the transformed lives of those who are following Him, however imperfectly.

But what about resisting his chiseling work? Maybe we've felt the sting of conviction and decided that it's too hard to change. We're too far gone. No hope for ever being transformed into the image of Christ. Just never getting free of the cycle of sin, and in lie-based hopelessness, we check out and our passivity equals active resistance. What's at stake if we resist this chiseling work? Well, obviously, the only thing people will see in us is us.

As my husband disclosed some very poignant aspects of his personal journey in these areas (amid the power surges, mind you) I sensed God working despite the distractions. I knew he was working in me. I know where I resist, and I suspect you do as well. I needed the conviction that came today and am grateful for it. As Paul closed the message today, he said that he hoped that our church would be a place where there'd be figurative rock chips flying all the time as God does his work in us.

So along with our rubber boots, I guess we can add to our ensemble a pair of goggles and see how the Master chooses to shape all of us, his living stones, more into His image.

My Friends,
This is one of those times when it's clear to me that what was spoken so intimately into my soul is meant not only to feed and change me, but to do the same for others. I share this excerpt from my journal for the purpose of encouraging you and pointing you toward Love Himself.


Being Remade

"Your purpose will be realized in the light of who I am. Come toward me; let me remake you. You can only be transformed to the degree I have planned for you if you come close. I love you. You’re my girl. My plan is the now. Who you are and who you’re becoming now – today – is the point. Don’t live for tomorrow. Press in close to me and let me fill you with the joy of who I am. That is your strength.

I am dealing with you at the root of your pain, and the root is the stronghold of deception. If you believe lies, behavior flows from that lie. “…you’re only as valuable as you are beautiful, or you’re only as acceptable as you are polished and free of flaws to the gaze of people who only see your outside."

But that isn’t my way. I am in the process of remaking you into my image. I know you want it sometimes and don’t care other times. When you are faithless, I am still faithful. I know you want to love me and you’re becoming ever-aware of your tendency to wander away from me and seek phantom fillers for the hole inside. I made you for myself. I made you to love me and to love others.

Your purpose is fulfilled when you love. Not when you achieve or make money or do something others recognize you for. If you love me and love others you’re doing what I created you to do.

What I want to see in you is for you to love more quickly in practical ways. When you think about sending a card, do it right then. Or a phone call, or a visit. Don’t explain it away or make excuses or let the immediate inconvenience rob you of living out your purpose. If you’re living for some kind of renown on this planet, as the pinnacle of reaching your destiny, you’ll reach the end of your life having missed my plan. Sometimes the loving is done in public ways where masses are reached by a few; I don’t measure importance in linear terms as humans do. I know this is counter-intuitive, but I’m telling you now so you don’t spend the rest of your earthly life striving for the wind.

I don’t want you to hate the memories of times when you've been broken. It’s part of my plan of teaching you how to love more deeply; and so much of loving is in forgiving. I’m with you always, even when you don’t know which way is up and when you aren’t seeking me. I’m with you, but when you seek me with all your heart, you’ll find me and you’ll become even thirstier for me. And I will always satisfy that thirst with myself in you. There’s no limit to my glorious riches that I want to pour out on you for fullness and abundance in your life. Enabling you to live in freedom – not striving for the approval of people, but in resting quietly and joyfully in the truth of my already proclaimed and sealed acceptance and limitless love for you."

Oh boy, it's been a long time since I've been here. April 19 -- and here it is October 8. Honestly, I feel like I survived the summer, and that's sad. It's stuff still too raw to voice here, at least yet. Something I learned on a whole new level this summer was how tempting it is to let hurt cloud my judgment. Also, how much insecurity robs me of being able to love others well. Yuck. That's another topic for another post, though.

And then on July 31, life changed. Paul got the call about the church here in Richey, and 22 days later we were here in the parsonage, surrounded by boxes, with three days before our kids would start school. Talk about a whirlwind move. But amidst the craziness, I was aware that God had provided. He had answered my prayer.

But I need to back up. In late June or early July, all that was before me seemed to be one huge, looming question mark. "Still no direction, Lord? How much longer?" I wondered. So I prayed a crazy prayer. I asked God that we would not only know where we'd be going, but we'd even be there before school started. The possibility of moving to Richey, Montana, was a remote little flicker in the back of my mind. I knew they were without a pastor, and there were a few things that seemed to be matching up. But still, I thought, "No way. Richey!? We've already done the extreme rural thing. And those were good years -- really good years. But, I mean...Richey??"

But back to that prayer. I knew I was praying the crazy. But my heart weighed heavily for my kids. I didn't want them to start school in Fairview, be plucked out of school after a few months and start all over, mid-stream, somewhere else. I so much didn't want to put them through that. And Paul was praying something specific, too. He asked that we'd have some kind of direction by the end of July. Well, July was ticking down, and there was nothing concrete on the horizon.

But, July 31 came, and Paul got the call about the church in Richey. I'll skip through the details of all the candidating, etc. Suffice it to say, it was fast and pretty uncomplicated as far as job changes go.

So I've entered back into the PW world -- pastor's wife. I guess I have to laugh at myself in all the thoughts that that title triggers for me. I think it boils down to taking the bait or just living in love. I'm here, so because I'm in Christ and He is in me, I can be all here. I can be free to love because there's no real threat. There's stuff I perceive as threats, but God is leading me to walk away from the fear that fuels those perceptions.

So, here we are in this little village. There's about 200 people in the town, and I genuinely appreciate many of the parts of living in a place like this. My kids are free to ride their bikes around town, and they're safe. I can send Isaac down the street to the grocery store for a gallon of milk, and the people already know him. The lady in the store marks the purchase down in this little book, Isaac initials it, and that's it. There's a Bible club led by a couple ladies from our church, and the information about Bible club is included in the e-mails put out by the public school. And as far as places like this being backward, you have to live here to realize that's a myth. People are people wherever you go. Our surroundings largely determine what we value, what we worry about, what we think about, how we plan.

Shopping isn't at the center of life here. When we moved to Fairview last year, I was glad to be free of the constant barage of advertising and the lure of materialism. And then we moved to an even more remote place with the nearest store of any substance 45 miles away. Not that materialism will ever be a non-issue, but it changes the temptation considerably when it's not constantly in front of you. I like a simpler life. I like it that my life doesn't revolve around Wal-Mart or Target. I love the wide, open sky. I love that I can ride my bike down the highway -- even down the middle if I want -- the traffic is that sparse. I guess I'll know if I'm feeling rebellious if I decide to do that. Some of us are so wild, huh. ha!!

It just occurred to me that this is the first time since April that I've felt any desire to blog, to let thoughts flow like this in black and white. I think that's a good sign -- moving toward knowing and being known instead of staying in a corner because you don't want people to know you're bleeding. Like a lot of people, if I'm not in a good place inside, I don't want to see what I'm thinking or feeling in black and white.

If I were to summarize what God is teaching me at this season of my life, it would be these things, all things borne out of difficulty. Seems that's how most of us learn the big stuff.
1. Because I am in Him, I am free to love. Free to give and receive love.
2. I am not who others say I am. I am who God says I am. I know God's plan for me is to serve his Church, and for now that involves a role that often feels uncomfortable to be. But, role or not, who I am is who God says I am. I want to increasingly see those around me through the same lens. They are not who I say they are, especially the ones who've caused hurt. They are loved greatly and in the same process I'm in.
3. I am free to walk away from fear toward love. Fear in relationships, fear that something will happen to my kids. Fear of betrayal, of rejection. All those fears rob me/us of the strength for the day. "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." I want that to mark my life to a much greater degree.
4. If I love God, I love what He loves, and He loves His church. So there's no giving up on the Church, no checking out. The God of all creation offers me strength out of Himself to be empowered to grasp his love, to live beyond my own nature. To resemble who he is. As I do that, I'll contribute my part to His body.
5. There is hope. Not that stuff will turn out how I expect or desire, but that God is at work, and He can be trusted to provide everything needed for the moment.

So, my friends, that's where I've been since April and where I'm at today. Time to get some laundry done now. :-)

Walking Away From Fear

No picture today. Lots of stuff on my mind, though.

One of the biggest -- I'll even go so far as to call it epic -- things God has been leading me through lately is about walking away from fear. Specifically, the fear of man. To be even more precise, having to have the approval of man to be OK.

"I'm OK if you tell me I'm OK. Who I am, inside and out, is as valuable as others tell me it is. If I'm affirmed, I'm OK. If I'm criticized or not wanted, then what? What do I do if someone doesn't like me or want me?"

It's so easy to pinpoint in others' lives. But brutal to admit about yourself.
It boils down to fear; something I'm way too acquainted with. I distinctly remember when it started. I was six years old and we moved a few hours away where my Dad had taken a new job. I don't remember feeling happy in that place except for a few times at the little country school where I went. We spent just under a year there, and nearly every night I had nightmares. It was as though fear came in that year and set up resisidence in my spirit.

Here I am 30 years later and see what fear has done. It's a thief. It robs you of joy and the ability to love -- to give it and receive it. There's no truth in fear. It's deceptive.

Yet, in the kindness of God, my eyes were opened to this in a new way about six weeks ago. The truth is what loosens bonds, and the truth is that I don't have to fear. I'm learning to take deliberate steps away from fear. Fear that I'm not thought well of. Fear that I'm going to look like a fool. Fear that when I try to give love I'll be blown off. Fear that transformation isn't real. Most of us can fill in the blanks.

The real question isn't so much what am I afraid of, but am I living by faith or in unbelief? Will I believe what God has spoken over me? What will I miss out on if I persist in unbelief? I have the choice to persist in the idolatry of seeking the approval of man or in loving God by believing Him. When His words rule my mind, and thus my words, attitudes and actions, then He is truly reigning in my life.

I want to learn to love. Loving flows from Truth. And Truth is a Person. I get to know Jesus -- the living, Source of truth. I can receive his life-giving breath into my spirit every day. This is what strengthens me to walk away from fear. To call fear what it is and walk toward love instead.

For me, here's the shape walking aways from fear has taken: to contact a friend instead of waiting and wondering why she doesn't contact me. To leave a message on my husband's voice mail telling him I'm thinking of him and thankful for the person he is, that I get to share life with him. To move toward him and ask him how he's doing, especially when it involves a misunderstanding between us, instead of retreating and withdrawing.

I'm so in process. Inconsistent. Yet I have right now, and at this moment, Father, I'm pressing in close, wanting to live the life you said I could live in You. Fill me with Yourself so that what comes out of me looks more like You.

"Come Into the Light"

This picture came a few months after we moved last year up to my husband's folks' farm. It was in the fall, and I was in the middle of a Beth Moore study on the life of Esther. I had signed up for the study to meet some people and get some needed structure to my personal study. Didn't expect to be BLOWN AWAY by it.

One of the themes of the study is destiny. I know. It's heady and elusive -- I hadn't ever spent much time dwelling on it, but the study forced the issue, and my personal circumstances were perfectly arranged for each week's teaching to reach me at my core. Because of the circumstances that prompted our move, I was in a place of not wanting to deal with big picture stuff like destiny because I was confused and hurt. But at the same time I was drawn to it, and there remained in me a flicker of hope that I'd yet be able to fulfill what God created me to do.

It was into this mental/spiritual/emotional context that this picture came. Here's some thoughts that came:

"Destinies are fulfilled in the light. I am with you where you are. I won't leave you, but in this dim place you won't fulfill your destiny. Come fully into the light. That is where I am. That is where you'll be able to see Me -- to see as I've created you to see."

God, help me to want the life you made me for more than this familiar place where I only see you faintly and where I sit in habitual sin and contentment with mediocrity.
November 2009

Ugh. I dislike what this picture reveals. Feeling those pointed words takes me to a place of sadness and hope all at once. If I'm partly in the shadows and partly in the light, it reveals where my thoughts rest and what I believe. Because what I believe, I do.

This thing about destinies hasn't ever been something I've explored. Just seemed a little out there. But really -- what's the big picture purpose of life? We each have unique expressions of the same thing: love God and love people. A life poured out in that pursuit is a life well lived.

The shadows symbolize sin; the sinful nature; the flesh, however you want to put it. My new favorite phrase for that is thanks to author Bill Giovanetti: the "inner mess." The light, of course, symbolizes the presence of God. Living in the light means living close to God.

Responding

What do you do with this picture? Where do you see yourself? Where are you saying yes to God? Where are you saying no? What do your habits reveal about your love for God and others? Your daily schedule?

I'm so not about legalism. I want to learn how to love. But loving means living in truth. And where there's stuff in my life that bears evidence of deception (you know, the thing about "being hardened by sin's deceitfulness"), I want to see the deception for what it is and trade it for truth.

But it's messy and I'm inconsistent. Sometimes I care more than other times. Sometimes I can be so engaged and other times so checked out. Thank God that he knows how to father us toward maturity. God, will you increase my faith and put within me a greater desire for yourself.

"Significant Insignificance"

I never knew feeling small could be so helpful in my understanding of God. It was through a teaching by Louie Giglio called "How Great is Our God" that my eyes were opened to the incomprehensible vastness of the universe and smallness of planet earth by comparison. I'd never seen photos that capture the outer reaches of the known universe combined with an explanation of where earth fits into that. Our smallness as a planet is mind-boggling; much less our smallness as individuals.

It's simple to say, but wrapping your mind around this is another thing: the God who spoke it all into existence set his love on our microscopic planet. He loves it, and he loves its inhabitants; knowing every individual human being who has drawn breath on it across the ages. Including me. And you. And not only does he know we exist, but he knows us down to the cell, down to the thought, motive, everything.

This simple but strong picture came when this realization was starting to sink in. Also, it was about eight months into a season of uncertainty. Unknowns were pressing in, and I was seeking God for guidance and peace.
May 2009

The Picture

Jesus' hand is cupped with planet earth sitting in his palm. In light of the universe surrounding earth, as human beings we're infantesimal. Smaller than microscopic. Yet in this smallness we're known and valued -- resting in the palm of the all-powerful, all-knowing Creator God. Right on top of his scar that makes this place with him possible. His significance establishes our significance.

Responding
Sometimes the circumstances that surrounds us look big because we measure big-ness by what our physical eyes absorb. Then we feel threatened when life is full of unknowns; when the bottom seems to drop out of everything and you wonder what in the world is going on. Been there?

How big is your view of God? How big is your view of yourself? Your circumstances? If you're overwhelmed, what does that tell you about the way you see God?

If everything is looming large, a great place to start in countering that is to accept & affirm the truth of your smallness. Just go outside on a starry night and look up (easy for me to say; I live in the country) :-). Still, whether you can see the stars or not, ask God to help you take in your smallness and His big-ness. That your place with him is one who is known and loved; one in whom He is personally doing a transforming work.

While the imagery is different, Isaiah 49:16 gives a picture of Israel being tattooed on God's palm. As his holy and dearly loved children we have this place with him, too.

"Preparing the Soil"

This picture came a few weeks into a difficult and confusing time. God spoke this picture into my mind and used it to comfort and remind me that, again, He can be trusted whether I understand circumstances or not.

The Picture
The farmer is preparing the soil for the crop that will grow in that field. The clods have to be broken up to be made useful. What the Gardener wants to grow here won't grow with the soil like it is.
The field appears to be fallow; no visible growth, no beauty, no fruit. But the Gardener is at work, preparing the soil for what is to come. A crop that can't grow in the soil of pride, self-sufficiency, contentment with mediocrity, fear, hanging onto hurt, anger, ego, critical spirit, cynicism. His plan can be trusted.
September 2008

Responding
Do you feel like you're in a season of being reshaped? Maybe what you thought was going to happen in your relationships, career or overall life plan hasn't happened. Do you feel like you're being worked over?

What does cooperating with God's reshaping work look like? It starts with our answer to this question: do I believe God is trustworthy in everything? If yes, then go from there and ask for His help and grace to accept our circumstances, however full of uncertainty and confusion they are. If your answer is no, try this: just ask God to give you eyes to see Him for who He is.

Sometimes it's discouraging when we see how far we have to go. We wonder if we've made any progress at all. But I think the Gardener would have us look at it not by the progress we have made, but by the progress He has made as we submit to him in loving trust.

"Let Me Make You Clean"

This picture came during a period of time when I was faced with a scenario that was confusing and hurtful. I was going back and forth between indulging in bitterness and fighting against it.

The Picture
My mind filled with a picture of a mud pit. Jesus was sitting on big rock on a grassy bank, watching me. I was in the pit. He quietly sat there, inviting me to come out; offering to wipe away the muck and hold me. He was simply letting me know that I didn't have to stay in that place.
June 11, 2009

Apparently, there's something God has for me to learn from mud. The message in this picture is about grace, about how getting free of sin/bondage requires our choice to walk away from it and about how Jesus gives us his own strength and purity for our cleansing and freedom.

I suppose this picture could also be called "Coming To Our Senses." It captures the heart of God toward us when we take steps away from sin toward Him. To begin with, Jesus is there. He waits on the bank for us; not forcing anything but simply waiting for us to choose Him and live in the freedom of obedience. When we come to our senses and crawl out of the mudhole of... (fill in the blank -- maybe it's bitterness, fear, pride or anger), it's obvious where we've been. If we've chosen sin, it always comes out. Not as obviously as muddy clothes, but in the kinds of thoughts we think, the attitudes we nurture, words we let out, actions we take or don't take.

Yet, Jesus is there. As we move toward him, he responds to our willingness by enfolding us in his own strength and purity. He wraps us up and holds us close, allowing our mess to get all over him. He knows the reason we're dirty is because we chose sin. But he also knows that in this moment, we chose Him and are believing Him. As we do that more and more, we live in more consistent freedom. He is the source for becoming and staying clean.

Responding
What thoughts does this trigger for you? Are you in bondage to anything? Is there an area of failure you're tired of and want to be free of? Are you willing to be humbled before God and crawl out of the mud and live on His terms?

There is freedom in admitting our neediness before God, whether we've just entered into relationship with Him or have walked with Him for decades. But to enjoy that freedom, we need to get out of the mud.

"Even in This, I Am With You"

This picture came in response to the pain of someone close to me. There was much hurt in her past, and she knew that some of it remained unresolved and still very painful, even after the passing of decades. My heart hurt with hers, and this picture filled my mind.

The Picture
I grew up on a hog farm, so what filled my mind was an image of a big, muddy, stinky, gross hog lot. Enough adjectives to communicate a GROSS place? :-) It's not nice, "clean" mud you'd play in, but hog mud.

There's a woman with boots on, knee-deep in this mud. The mud is the symbol of the build-up of hurt and brokenness that has touched her life, whether by her own doing or done to her by others. She can't move because the mud is too deep, and the suction is stronger than she is. Left on her own, she'd stay in that spot and never be free inside.

But she's not alone -- Jesus is there. He's got boots on, too, and he's knee deep in the mud right beside her. Steadying her, holding her up, giving her strength to take little step by little step toward getting out of the mud pit. His presence and strength leads her to freedom from the brokenness of her past.
February 2009

Responding

Do you feel like you're stuck inside or feel powerless to break free of a painful past or present?

Each time you try to take a step forward you nearly lose your footing because the mire is thick and the suction that pulls at your feet is too strong. But you are not alone. In this foul place where your depest hurts and strongest doubts lie, Jesus is there. And he is strong. Not losing his footing at all. He holds you fast -- allowing you to pass through it so you can see it all for what it is and see Him for who he is. One who loves you.

The treasure in this picture is the assurance that Jesus is with us in everything; that His strength is ours in suffering, in difficulty. Whether it's stuff that's been done to us or it's of our own doing. You fill in the blanks.

As you draw near to Christ, he guides you to deal with what still has you in bondage. I heard it said this way, "He loves us exactly as we are, but too much to let us stay that way." He doesn't spare us from difficulty, but he's there in it with us.

God wants us see our trial for what it is so we can see Him for who He is. Perhaps you're in a season of confusion and wonder when clarity will come. Or you were wounded deeply and the memories you've pushed aside are pressing in. What is it for you?

Jesus loves us by entering into the messiness of our lives. While he's there for each of us individually, his design for his followers is that we'd put on some figurative rubber boots and do the same for each other. To enter into the mess of the people around us. What does that look like? It's about being there, loving, offering a steadying hand by speaking words of grace and truth and receiving that steadying hand other times.