Faithfulness is What I Long For

“The writers of most of the biblical books concentrate on those people and events that are central to redemptive history.  This focus on great events easily obscures the fact that often whole generations are born, grow old, and die without them…For every biblical hero there are thousands of Israelites who know God only through what is taught by priest and prophets, and seek to be obedient to the law in personal devotion, in home and family life, and in worship of God.”  -Graeme Goldsworthy (According to Plan) 

      Last weekend our family went to Danny’s grandfather’s 90^th birthday party.  Surprisingly, his grandfather wasn’t the oldest person in the room.  At 91, his grandmother is the baby of her family and I was pleased to finally meet her 100-year-old big sister.  It was a great time for Danny to interview his great-aunts and uncles and piece his family history together, going back to when his great-grandparents took the journey from Italy to Ellis Island and their experiences during the World Wars and the Great Depression and all the years that followed.  It was a time for feasting.  It was a time for old pictures.  It was a time for the youngest branches from the family tree to play together on the grassy hill beside the church where we were gathered. 

Most of all, it was a time for stories.  Some were humorous and many were told through tears, but my favorite was a simple memory from my sister-in-law, Lauren.  She told of when their family lived with their grandparents for a few months when she was a girl and how every single morning she saw her grandparents with their toast and coffee, reading the word of God together at the table. 

       At 37 and 36, Danny and I are among the oldest members of our current (and previous) church and we miss having the opportunity to learn from some of the wisdom that can only come from time and experience.  Christianity today is often described as an exciting and dangerous adventure. Our generation tends to eschew comfort and conformity and focus a lot of energy trying to figure out how to be radical and relevant.  I don’t think this is bad.  I hope this generation can lead the way in ending human trafficking and that we will take seriously our call to care for widows, orphans, and all who are marginalized.  I am glad there are voices calling us to move from excess to generosity and from judgment to grace. 

      At the same time, I hope that we don’t forget that obedience isn’t always exhilarating.  Sometimes it’s much easier to make a great and shocking sacrifice than it is to be faithful in the mundane, when you think no one else is looking. 

      I pray, by God’s grace, that I would always be listening and ready to respond to any crazy call God might have for me and I pray I would be equally content if He wants me to “make my ambition to live a quiet life” (1 Thessalonians 4:11).  Either way, I want to number my days, to drink His word with my coffee, to learn to love God and my neighbor, and to “press on toward the goal.” I’m thankful for those who have gone before me. 

           

A Comforting Paradox

“I want neither a terrorist spirituality that keeps me in a perpetual state of fright about being in right relationship with my heavenly Father nor a sappy spirituality that portrays God as such a benign teddy bear that there is no aberrant behavior or desire of mine that he will not condone. I want a relationship with the Abba of Jesus, who is infinitely compassionate with my brokenness and at the same time an awesome, incomprehensible, and unwieldy Mystery. ”

― Brennan Manning

     My first image of God, from a very young age, was a loving father.  I believed He loved me, always forgave me, and always cared about all of my hopes and fears.  For years I took for granted that everyone who knew God, knew Him in the same way.  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized many believers grow up seeing God as distant, angry, and unconcerned.   After hearing some of their stories, I realized my foundational view of God was a special gift.

            In college, my understanding of God’s character grew.  First, through reading about Lewis’s Aslan in the Narnia series (as well as other Christian authors), and then from reading the Bible afresh, I realized that God is not only grace and mercy, but also power, strength, and majesty.  He was no longer just a father to me, but also creator, judge, and king.  He was not only worthy of my love, but my holy fear.  I found this to be incredibly good news.  God is strong and His might is enough to change me and redeem a fallen world. 

            This new (to me) doctrine of the fear of the Lord was so exciting that I began to share it every chance I could, though it was met with mixed reviews.  Many, whose backgrounds were similar to mine, found God’s awe-inspiring, sovereign rule inspiring for worship and obedience.  However, others found this message confusing.  In time, I realized that both messages were imbalanced; that only in the tension of seeing God as both gentle shepherd and mighty warrior can we get a clearer view.

            Of course, God is more multifaceted than the human mind can comprehend, but in continually coming before him as a dearly loved daughter before a gracious father and as a humble servant before my righteous master, I am able to experience a deeper understanding of the Lord of my life.   When I see evil and injustice around me, I am comforted that God’s wrath is real and that He will not sit idly by.  And when I contemplate the God who has every right to smite me, I am more overwhelmed by his mercy. 

            If God really spoke the world into being, if he really is the potter and I am the clay, if every breath I take is a gift from him, than how can I not draw back in wonder?  Yet, he drew near and Jesus, when teaching his disciples to pray, said to begin with “Abba,” an intimate, personal word for father. 

In the Bible we see God create and destroy, judge and show mercy, lifted up and, yet, coming close.  It is in these seemingly opposing views that I work out my salvation, make decisions, pray, and seek wisdom.  I am thankful for the paradox. 

           

Does God Want to Fix Us?

 “But Jesus Christ did not come for us to have the same old, nasty, funky, trifling, hard heart…He gives you a new heart, He gives you receptivity—that means a new value system, new affections, and your will being taken out of bondage to be able to serve Him.”—Dr. Eric Mason

            I recently read an article in which the author, a Christian, repeatedly told her readers not to worry or fear because “God not only welcomes you as you are, but he does not want to fix you.”  Over the past few years I have heard this message in various places, in slightly different forms, but each time it is presented as wonderful news.  I’m not so sure about that, though.  What is the gospel without transformation?
            Before I go any farther, let me get one thing straight: I am a mess.  I have a myriad of fears, sinful patterns, deep-rooted lies, and selfish desires daily battling within me.  However, because of God’s grace, I’m not anywhere close to being the mess I was ten years ago, and I can have hope, because of that same grace, that I won’t be quite as messed up ten years from now.  The promise of sanctification, that God has begun and will continue the work of making me holy and clean, has become music to my ears.

            Sometimes when I go back to my college town, a simmering sadness works it’s way through my heart.  Though my college days were almost completely void of the prodigal wildness displayed in movies and shared in testimonies, I remember my more pharisaical rebellion, the instances when my pride, vanity, and relentless comparison hurt those close to me, stole my joy, and made me miss opportunities for good.  I’m thankful-yes, by grace, again-that it is possible to “flee the desires of youth” (2 Timothy 2:22).   I once heard a speaker say that one of the most inspiring words in the Bible is “were”. We were enemies of God, but we have been brought near.  We don’t have to serve ourselves; we don’t have to destroy our relationships with God and others.

            I’m so glad that we are accepted just as we are.  I’m glad that the father ran to meet his son even when he was a long way off.  I’m glad Jesus gave honor to the woman caught in adultery and convicted her accusers.  I’m glad he spoke to the woman at the well.  I’m glad he went to Zacchaeus' house for dinner.   Yet, I’m equally glad that he didn’t stop there.  He told the woman to “go and sin no more.”  Dinner with Jesus led Zacchaeus to give back four times what he stole.

            As Easter approaches, I have been thinking about life eternal and present. I’m convinced the former will be far better than our best dreams and I have hope that we can experience shadows and dim reflections of what is to come even now.   I’m not naïve about the nature of sin and our flesh.  I know that very few lives fit neatly in the categories ‘before’ and ‘after’.  “Fighting the good fight” and “running the race” (2 Timothy 4:7) will take a lifetime and will often be a jagged line full of peaks and valleys, but I thank God that He promises that transformation can take place now (Romans 12:1-2).  God alone knows the weight of the personal battles each of us fight and one day when we finally hear, “well done good and faithful servant,” those will certainly not be empty words.  Redemption will be complete and we will finally be fixed.  Now, that is incredibly good news.

“Therefore, we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed every day.”  -2 Corinthians 4:16

           

           

Praying for the Oppressed

“Of all things, guard against neglecting God in the secret place of prayer.” 

-William Wilberforce

“Christianity is the story of how the rightful King has landed, you might say in disguise, and is calling us all to take part in his great campaign of sabotage.”  -C.S. Lewis

            Last Friday, I went to a viewing of the documentary, Nefarious:Merchant of Souls.  The film gives voices and faces to the millions of women and children enslaved by the global sex trade.  Although it was extremely difficult to watch, I recommend it for adults and older teenagers.  I have read and seen a lot on this subject, but Nefarious was unique in at least three ways. One, the film included interviews with men who are no longer abusers, highlighting their former enslavement and the hope for redemption. Two, it effectively broadened the definition of trafficking.  Three, most importantly, it portrayed prostitution as not only a cultural, political, and socio-economic problem, but a spiritual problem as well.

            I remember all of the sadness, anger, and fear I felt the first time I learned about the details of the Holocaust in eleventh grade U.S. History.  I wondered how a conscience could grow numb enough to inflict such pain on others.  I wondered how people on the outside could watch and do nothing.  I felt similar feelings when I really began to understand the transatlantic slave trade and the injustices that lead to the civil rights movement.  As an adult, I’ve read sorrowful accounts from various places and cultures, throughout many different periods of history, and sometimes it feels impossible to have hope in this dark, broken world.  It’s hard to have hope that the light of the gospel can break though in places like Cambodia where parents willingly sell their children to be repeatedly raped for money (a practice that reminds me of the parents in the Old Testament who sacrificed their children to other gods).  It’s hard to believe the gospel can bring light to Amsterdam, Bangkok, and Las Vegas.  It’s hard to believe the gospel can be trusted by women who have experienced abuse from those who were supposed to protect them, who have only heard lies and never experienced grace or love.  Yet, some of them have amazing stories of healing and faith.

            I’m glad I saw this documentary during lent, a time when I’m supposed to be preparing my heart for Easter.  I believe, by sins of commission and omission, we are all part of the brokenness in the world and any hope we have stems from Christ alone.  I agree with Paul when he says, “if Christ is not raised than our faith is useless” (1 Corinthians 15:17).  However, if what we sing and say is true, God does care and He did come and He was raised.  He established a kingdom, that is still gaining numbers and power even while the darkness seems to reign, and one day he will come back and all that is hidden will come to light and all that is nefarious will be crushed, forever defeated, and the curse will be lifted, all things will be made new. 

            We, who live in between the two comings, have choices to make.  It can be such a helpless feeling to have ones eyes open to unthinkable evil.  There was a palpable heaviness in the dark room as we watched, muffled sounds of crying or a slight gasp of disbelief occasionally cutting through the silence.  Yet, the makers of the film ended with action points inspired by the great abolitionist William Wilberforce: raise awareness, give money to ministries that work to end trafficking, and pray. 

            I confess it is hard to believe prayer can make a difference, but I agree that this battle is not only physical, but spiritual, and spiritual power is needed to break these chains.  I believe God is close to the broken-hearted and hears their cry.  I believe he calls his church to proclaim “freedom for the captives” (Isaiah 61:1) and he uses us for his purposes.  I believe it is Friday, but Sunday is coming.  “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.” (Revelation 22:2)

           

           

For additional information and prayer guides, check out:

http://nefariousdocumentary.com/

http://www.ijm.org/

http://www.salvationarmyusa.org/trafficking

http://enditmovement.com/

Why I Write

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”-Maya Angelou

Two years ago I started this blog with this post.  Since that time, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with blogging.  It’s more love than hate; I love the process of writing and it’s encouraging when others can relate to my thoughts and experiences, but, on the other hand, I have a relentless, inner nay-saying voice that can sometimes be hard to ignore.  It’s the voice that tells me I should be using the few free hours I have each week doing something productive like cleaning my house (trust me, it needs all the help it can get) or clipping coupons or exercising or lesson planning, basically anything but clicking away on my laptop at Starbucks, Jam n Java, or Sola Coffee, imposing my thoughts on others.  This voice can sometimes convince me that this whole endeavor is pretty silly and I’ve come close to stopping several times, but I always come back.

I write because there is a “fire in my bones” and I grow “weary from holding it in” (Jeremiah 20:9).  I distinctly remember the wonder of being introduced to creative writing in 4^th grade and since that time, it has been hard for me to think, pray, or attempt to make sense of the world around me without writing.  I find myself putting pieces of stories and essays together while driving, putting away the dishes, and taking a shower (which explains at least some of my scatter-brained tendencies).  Phrases and words swirl around in my brain and drive me crazy until they make their way to my hands, and then to a page or a computer screen, where I feel the relief and joy of trapping and organizing them. 

I’ve discovered, with awe and gratitude, that writing can be worship and even ministry.  Unfortunately, it can also be an idol.  There is a thin line.  I find this is true sometimes on days when I love it, but mostly on the days I hate it.  I am, thankfully, taking baby steps to the freedom of not thinking too highly or too lowly of anything God allows me to do or create.  I want to know the beauty of self-forgetfulness as I place my sacrifice on the altar, leaving the rest up to him.  In the parable of the talents (Luke 19:12-28), it is the servant with the least amount of money who is scared to invest it.  Maybe he thought that it would have been worth the risk if he had received a larger share, but he was condemned for not using the portion he had been given.  I try to remember that.

            I think writing, like cooking, acting, building, preaching, crafting, joke-telling, and almost any other activity that comes to mind, is incomplete until it’s shared. I appreciate this place to share and store some of my words and experiences.  I hope one day to pursue other writing projects, but this is just enough for this season.  So, I’m going to do my best to silence the nay-saying voice and I’m going to keep clicking away, grateful for the journey and thankful for those of you who read along. 

 

Lupus and Prayer

“We never know in advance exactly how suffering can be transformed into a cause for celebration…Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.”
–Philip Yancey, Where is God When it Hurts

            I haven’t written about lupus in awhile, mostly because I have been feeling quite well and it hasn’t been on the forefront of my mind.  Two weeks ago, however, I had one of the worst flairs I’ve had since my diagnosis (almost three years ago).  My feet, knees, and hips hurt when I walked, my wrist and fingers hurt when I tried to do anything with my hands, and a shooting pain went down my right arm whenever I attempted to lift it. 

            I saw my rheumatologist a few days ago and he prescribed steroids as a short-term fix (thankfully they are helping with the pain and symptoms) while I wait to see a pulmonologist.  My last breathing test showed there is still fluid in my lungs so the doctors want to work together on a treatment for both.  So, after a long season of almost forgetting about it entirely, I have been reminded that I have lupus and I should be praying about it.

            In the 5^th chapter of John, Jesus goes to the Pool of Bethesda, a place where the blind, lame, paralyzed, and disabled go in search of healing in it’s waters.  There he sees a man who has been an invalid for thirty-eight years and he asks him an interesting question: “Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)   Although the answer seems obvious, I think it’s a good and important question.  For this man, healing will mean a complete change in identity, responsibility, and lifestyle, so he needs to contemplate if he’s really ready for that.  Equally important, he needs to admit, aloud to Jesus, what he wants. 

            I want to get well.  It’s hard for me to say that.  I don’t want to put God on the spot.  I don’t want people to pray and be disappointed.  I don’t want to be disappointed.  It’s easier to ignore it.  But I know my Heavenly Father, who knows what I need before I even ask, wants me to be honest with him. 

            Sometimes when I am in the waiting room and I see patients who are about twenty years older than me hooked to oxygen tanks or dependent on walkers or wheelchairs, I wonder if I am beholding my future and fear shoots through me.  Then I remember that daily bread is, in fact, daily.  I have manna for today, grace sufficient for this season, and God will take care of the rest.

            When I come home, I am reminded, again, of my many blessings including my servant-hearted husband and my children who are so quick to ask where it hurts so they can pray.  Once, I noticed Derek pause and close his eyes in the middle of playing Legos.  After a few seconds he told me, “I just prayed for you.  I prayed, ‘Dear God, please help Mommy to feel better and have no more sickness. Amen.’”   I thanked him and told him it was a wonderful prayer, so he started praying those exact words at random times (on the drive to school, in the middle of snack, before he goes to bed). I have been so blessed by his simple, confident, loving request.

            I know I am only seeing in a mirror dimly. God may heal me tomorrow, or he may next year, or he may thirty years from now; even if I have to wait until this body wears out, I am promised an imperishable body for eternity (1 Corinthians 15).  For now, I pray God will be glorified in my life either by healing, remission, the right treatment, or supernatural help to persevere without earthly healing (but I think I like the first choice the best).  This is my hope for the many I know whose bodies are feeling the effects of this broken world.  So, I’m going to keep on knocking like he told me to.  I think I’ll use Derek’s prayer as my guide.  

The Elephant in the Prayer Room

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?...But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.” 

-Psalm 13:1and 5

            I can’t go any further talking about prayer until I address the fact that God sometimes says “no” or “wait.”  I realize I’m in over my head.  It’s almost impossible to discuss God’s apparent silence on some issues without getting into the murky waters of the problem of evil, free will verses predestination, and a host of other philosophical and theological questions that I’m not qualified to discuss.  Still, I know that these questions tend to haunt and hinder our prayers.  God knows this, too, and I believe he is big enough to hold our questions as he cares for our hearts.

            Garth Brooks topped the charts in 1990 with his hit “Unanswered Prayers.”  The song tells the story of running into an old sweetheart and thanking God that his prayers to be with that person weren’t answered.  Most of us can relate.   I can look back on my life and pray relieved, grateful prayers that God didn’t give me many of the things that I desperately wanted at the time.  Just like I would be a bad parent if I gave my kids everything they wanted, God often withholds what would lead to our ruin.  Our hearts are deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9) and we would often spend what we receive selfishly (James 4:3).

            However, It’s relatively easy to come to terms with God’s “no” when speaking of dating relationships, job opportunities, or college acceptance, but when a “no” comes in the form of unhealed terminal illness, wombs that stay barren, unwanted desires and addictions that remain, unfulfilled dreams, prodigals who don’t return, or children who suffer, then it’s a much more bitter pill to swallow.  A friend of mine worked as a nurse in a child cancer ward and she saw faithful, loving parents pray that their children would be healed as they watched their children die before their eyes.  I can scarcely imagine anything more horrible and there are no simple answers for pain that dark and deep.

            There is so much I don’t know, but here are a few things I do know:

1.  Jesus cries with us.  Jesus knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead and, yet, when Jesus came to the tomb, he wept.  Over and over again, the gospels use the phrase, “he had compassion on them” describing how Jesus felt when he saw those in physical and spiritual pain.  Throughout the Old Testament, God is described as being close to the broken-hearted. 

2. There is a cosmic battle going on.  I don’t think demons are the cause of all that goes wrong in our lives, but I do think there is an invisible, spiritual realm that affects the physical world we live in.  From the presence of the serpent in the garden, to the behind the scenes dealing with Job, to the demonic possessions described in the gospels and Acts, to Revelation, it is evident that there are dark forces as well as light that play a role in our days. 

3.  Prayer is an act of submission, not an attempt to gain control.  Jesus prayed to God before his arrest.  Through tears, he actually ask God to “take this cup” of suffering from him.  Thankfully for us, he didn’t stop there and God didn’t grant that request, but Jesus went on to pray, “not my will, but yours.”  When we pray, we trust that God sees a bigger picture that we cannot fathom.

4.  We’re told to keep on asking.  Just because God might not answer in the way we would like, doesn’t mean that we stop asking for the desires of our hearts.  He knows what we want and what we need, but only in asking can we know Him.  Jesus makes it clear that we are to continue to ask, seek, and knock and Ephesians 6:18 says we’re to “pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.”  He delights in his children and he is generous to us.

           

            History surprisingly shows that a relationship with Christ is not dependent on requests granted.  Of the ten healed from leprosy on the road, only one came back to thank Jesus (Luke 17:19).  Likewise, there are those who experience miraculous healings and still walk away from the faith and those who suffer in this life and persevere.  Some will have to wait until death and life again before they are able to run or see or be reunited with someone they loved and lost, but there will be a day when all things are new.  This is the hope that surrounds every prayer to our good and loving God who promises us that hope in Him will not lead to disappointment in the end.