This morning I received a phone call that made me sick to my stomach. Just as I was leaving for church. It was one of those, that’s not fair! moments. And to be honest, my first response was, VINDICATION! Or, in my daughter’s words, “Sue!” We’re a sue-happy society, aren’t we? Always grabbing, striving, manipulating, making sure we get our fair share.
My second response was to withdraw. You really can’t get hurt in a closet, right? But it does get pretty dark and isolating in there. And awful quiet. (I’m pretty sure it’s home to a few, hairy, eight-legged creatures, as well.)
And yet, there was a third response–the self-evaluating one. And in the end, this was what I chose because I realized (rather begrudgingly)…dead men don’t bleed. The very fact that I felt the need to be vindicated showed I hadn’t died to self. It was like God had placed a giant magnifying glass over my heart, revealing every festering tumor just waiting to sprout. And hidden deep in the left ventricle was a blossoming sprig of self-love. This earthly betrayal begged the question: Who are you really serving, Jennifer?
Ouch. Will I always fight against myself? This appears to be my greatest, apparently never-ending, battle. One that keeps popping up for a second round just when I’m ready to step out of the ring.
I’m reading God Meant it For Goodby R. T Kendell, which is an indepth look at the life of Joseph, and as I was rehashing, gnawing, chewing, everything in my ever-spewing mind, I couldn’t help but think about Joseph’s life. In the beginning, he was all about the glory—self-glory. His brothers and father were going to bow down to him, remember? Now wouldn’t that be something? A few doting family members would go very well with his royal robe!
But God had other plans, and it took being tossed in a cistern, sold into slavery, dragged across the desert, and thrown into prison before Joseph got it. It wasn’t about him–it was about God. And Joseph? He was there to serve God–not the other way around. Oh, how we like to twist that one!
I don’t want to go into my story–okay, actually, I do, in a self-vindicating, listen what happened to me, sort of way–but I won’t. And it really doesn’t matter. We all deal with injustice or betrayal. Maybe we’ve slaved over a project only to have someone else get the credit, or maybe one of our team members fell down on the job and we had to carry the blame. It doesn’t matter. Our reaction to the event reveals the level of our spirituality. And our faith in God. Do we really believe He’s sovereign, even when humans are involved? Do we really believe He will work all things to good, or do we think He needs our help?
This event that caused me such angst? It was nothing more than a tool showing a hearts issue in need of a double-bypass. I’ll know the surgery’s done when the initial betrayal–or any betrayal–no longer causes me pain.
Yesterday one of my friends posted this video on facebook, which led to about an hour of instant replay.
And it’s not just because it has a catchy beat. The words, “How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er” touched me deeply. As I sang, memories of all the times Jesus has shown up—again, and again, and again—came washing over me. When I’ve had nowhere else to turn, He was there. When everyone else turned away, He was there. When I was too tired to lift my face, He lifted it for me. When I felt like my heart would break, He comforted me with words of love. Like a gentle father enveloping a weak and timid child. God has proven His love and faithfulness to me o’er and o’er.
One day I was speaking with an atheist. This was one of those intellectual conversations–you know, “According to the first law of thermodynamics…therefore there must be a God.”
He wasn’t buying it.
Although, I suspect he was. Each one of us knows deep in our hearts there is a God. And I believe each one of us catch glimpses of His all-consuming love throughout the day, but we rationalize those moments and faint whispers away.
That’s easy to do, even for believers. We’ll hear a word from God. Maybe a verse will speak to us, asking us to do something we’d rather not do. And in that moment, we surrender completely. But then the next day rolls around, and the words, and our passion, fades. How do you know that verse was from God? (Besides the fact that it’s in the Bible?) Maybe you’re making too much of it. You do have a tendency to make every verse your own. (News flash–the Bible is God’s Word to you. Own it.)
Or, we’ll ask for another confirmation, then another, then another. And over time, that tiny flame begins to fade. Life seeps in, and we tell ourselves it was never really a call.
Given enough time and enough human rationalization, even the miraculous can be explained away. Maybe it wasn’t a worldwide flood. Maybe Jonah’s life was an allegory. Maybe that check that came in the mail at just the right time was a coincidence.
Until we’re leveled–totally broken, without a glimmer of hope, and God shows up. Then there’s no doubt. No explanations suffice, and that memory of God reaching down His hand and plunging us out of whatever mess we were in resonates so deeply, it cements itself into our hearts.
After a long, and fruitless conversation with my atheist friend, he asked me what I would do if someone proved the Bible wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of how many years I had spent studying cannonization, biblical archeology and books upon books discussing the credibility and authority of the Bible. But despite all the evidence I’d seen in favor of the Bible’s authority, I contemplated his question honestly.
After all the times God surrounded me, held me, spoke to me, saved me, healed me–showed Himself to me in both the big and the mundane–could anything convince me of His non-existence?
No. Once you’ve tasted the water, there is no way someone can convince you it is not real.
What about you? Pause for a moment and think…contemplate all the times and ways God has shown up in your life. Then listen to the song again. Do you find yourself singing, “Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him. How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er.”?
Not there yet? Curious? Maybe even a tad thirsty? Wanna see if God really is who He says He is and really does what He says He does? Ask Him to show you, for all who ask receive, all who seek find and to him who knocks the door will be opened.
Jeremiah 29:12-13 “Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”
If you want to know God–truly know Him, and experience His freeing, cleansing love first hand, tell Him. If you seek, you will find. He’s already there, loving you, drawing you. Waiting for you to life up your face.
And now I’ going to play that song again. Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him. How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er.
So today I made a major blunder–not the first. Actually, not the second or third, either. And I’m sure my editor at Clash of the Titles is about ready to tear her hair out. (Yep, I’ve called her twice this week.) Now part of it’s a Mac problem–not today’s error, but the other errors I’ve made this week.
(My name is Jennifer Slattery and I’m a PC).
Although technology is getting better, there are still many programs and downloads that aren’t Mac compatible. And I’ve got a pc (three Macs, one PC), but somehow it lost my wireless internet key, and the internet guys don’t have it. (Seriously?) So, to use the internet on my Toshiba, I have to manually plug my Toshiba into the modem. Not a big deal, right? Except the modem is in the loft in the entertainment center about four feet off the ground and the cord is maybe four and a half feet, so there’s a bit of juggling involved. (Maybe it would have been better to keep our desktop…)
Enough complaining–you’re wanting to know what I did, right? Wow, tad bit morbid this morning, aren’t we? What’s that saying? Misery likes company? Just kidding.
So this week was my week to host COTT, and we’ve got a definite order of how things are supposed to go. Only I got so caught up in the stories and the comments from our readers, and the neck-and-neck polls (52%-48%. Now that’s close!) that I posted the winners. Not just on our site, but all through out cyberspace. Meaning, I can’t fix it. (Winners aren’t supposed to be announced until Friday. Surprise!)
I had to eat it. Tuck tail, send out emails to both competing authors, copy in my editor, asking for mercy. I offered a consolation prize–an interview on Reflections. But I blew it, and these authors deserved better.
I tend to do stuff like this often. For someone who gnaws things to death (my husband’s words, not mine) I sure live by the seat of my pants a lot. It can get downright discouraging, and rather embarrassing. I’m frequently sucking on my toes. (Open mouth, insert foot.) Which is why I like Peter so much–one of the sons of thunder. My husband says I’m like a bull in a china cabinet.
If he says it with a smile, does that mean it’s a good thing?
I guess that depends on which side of the table you’re on.
I’ve got a friend who can see the good in every situation. I love talking to her.
“You’re a pit-bull.”
“Okay…???” (I’ve got stinky breath? I suck the life right out of you? I need to be chained?)
“In a good way. When…” (And she relates a positive example.)
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. “Yeah, I see where you’re going.” Chest puffed out a bit more. “Right, pit bull. I like that.”
We’ve all got hints of Peter, or Thomas, or Martha’s in us.
Even as I say that, I’m imaging numerous images come to mind. Peter was impetuous, a trait that caused him to eat his words on at least one occasion, but he was also passionate. Impetuous/passionate…See where I’m going?
Martha was like a type A to the extreme. I bet she drove her people-oriented sister, Mary, crazy! And yet, she got things done. She took care of details. She never would have bombed the COTT deal today.
Thomas, doubting Thomas, full of questions. And yet, he got his questions answered, resulting in total, unwavering faith.
Every personality has its strength along with a dose of weakness. And according to my dear friend Katie Johnson, our greatest strength often doubles as our greatest weakness.
Not sure what to do about that. It’s not like I can suddenly decide to change my personality, replacing all those negative qualities with positives, although I console myself with the knowledge that God’s not through with me yet. And although I’m tempted to retreat into a nice, safe, non-impetuous-provoking world of laundry and vacuuming, I’m not going to let my weakness get in the way of obedience. Sure, I’ll have to tuck tail once in awhile, owning up to my mistakes and asking for an extra dose of grace–but I’ve already got all the grace I need in Jesus.
In the meantime, I’ll learn from my mistakes and do the best I can to compensate for them.
What about you? What tends to be your greatest weakness and how might it also be a strength? What steps can you take to overcome your weaknesses?
(And as a side-note. Thanks to Lena, Tiffany, and April, for their immeasurable patience!)
Lately I’ve spent way too much time staring at a blank computer screen. Normally I can pop off a scene or devotion without batting an eye. And because writing has always come so easily, and in many ways accidentally, (I didn’t start out wanting to write. My initial dream was to be a children’s Sunday school director.) I guess I’ve developed this false idea that if God’s in it, I’ll breeze through it. (I really need to listen to my pastor more. He keeps reminding me that obedience isn’t always easy.)
I think part of this comes from my huge admiration of God. I realize that nothing in me is due to anything I’ve done. God could very easily give that devotion or story He’s asking me to write to someone else. If He wanted to, He could raise up a stone, give it flesh, breath life into it, and have the stone-turned-man pen work equivalent to a Shakespearean play.
So why am I struggling? Where’s that strength of God that is made perfect in my weakness? Where’s that peace that surpasses all understanding?
Sunday I was really frustrated, and beginning to wonder if the struggles I was facing indicated a closed door. Or, more accurately, a towering brick wall. Discouraged, I set the project I was working on aside and pulled up my email account. The first message I read was from Inspirational Quotes–a feed I subscribed to some time back.
Proverbs 30:30 “A lion, mighty among beasts, who retreats before nothing;”
I wasn’t sure I liked that verse. I liked the premise–that children of God need to follow through with the tasks they are given (my interpretation when I read it.) But honestly, I was looking for something more comforting, like “Abide in Me and I’ll abide in you.” I didn’t want an uphill climb that would take determination and grit. I wanted to find that nice green pastur–to know that if I prayed a bit longer or spent a few more minutes connecting with God, the words would suddenly start to flow. So I headed to Proverbs 31 Ministries–one of my favorite devotion sites.
This is what I got, “David also said to Solomon his son, ”Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the LORD is finished.”
This helped a bit. It wasn’t the “Rest and let me write the words for you,” I was looking for, but it did remind me of God’s call for dedicated faithfulness.
I’m an endurance runner, largely because I couldn’t go fast if my life depended on it. In high school, I ran track and cross-country. Most cross-country races were just over three miles, which isn’t terribly long, but long enough to bring out a runner’s weakness. If you’d skirted through turn-out, avoiding the hill work-outs, walking on the long runs, or skipping out on the drills, come race day, it’d show. Gratification rarely came instantly. Often it wasn’t until the end of the season, sometimes even the end of your high school career, that you’d begin to see the fruits of your labor.
Because of my marriage column on Reflections, I hear a lot about struggling, sometimes even shattered, marriages. I’ve sort of skirted around addressing some of the tougher issues because quite frankly, I’ve not known what to say. And I’ve contacted some friends with more experience hoping maybe they could address the issue of marital betrayal, but after months of no takers and emails from hurting readers, I’ve decided to do my best to share ways God has helped me. I’ve never dealt with marital betrayal, but I understand the pain of shattered trust. We live in a fallen world, and humans are going to let us down every time. Guaranteed. But God never will, and we will never fall further than His hand.
I’m a runner, although I’m not as diligent as I used to be. In fact, I haven’t “trained” in quite a while. As a result, my times have gotten increasingly worse. Most things in my life, when left to themselves, decline. Even my spiritual life. If I’m not careful, it can be easy to live the Christian life on autopilot: Read my Bible, check. Pray, check. Go to church, check. But living on autopilot leads to stagnation.
Last night my sister told me about her plans to run a half-marathon. She’s just had a baby, and at age 38 is having a tough time regaining the strength and endurance she had before pregnancy. Left alone, with no motivation–with no goal in sight–isn’t cutting it. Excuses come too readily. To fight this backward progression, she and her husband have made plans to run numerous races in the spring. She’s hoping her goals followed by clear deadlines will overcome her apathetic tendencies. And likely it will. (No, I won’t be joining her. I’m rather content with my comfortable stroll, thank you very much.)
I believe the same is true in our spiritual lives. If we want to grow, we need a goal, and an accountability partner. Someone who will stand by us. Someone who will do life with us.
At least I do. Maybe I’ve got a bit more Adam than most, but my first choice will always be the path of least resistance. Show me an uphill climb and I’ll search for the ski lift.
Which is why I’ve found a mentor. She’s an older lady at our church–an empty nester if you will–who’s willing to share her experiential knowledge with me. This relationship will be intentional, characterized by goals, expectations and a clear plan of action. This woman will be focused on my growth. Kind of sounds selfish, I know, but it’s also biblical. (Titus 2:3-5)
Philipians 3: 12-17
“12Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 13Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 14I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
15All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. 16Only let us live up to what we have already attained.
17Join with others in following my example, brothers, and take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you.”
As I read this passage this morning, verse twelve reminded me of my need for continual progress. It also reminded me Who’s standing beside me. Christ took hold of me. Christ died for me, and He’s given me everything I need to live a holy life. But just like athletes who practice drills to hone their skills, my growth will be much more significant if I approach it with intentionality. How do you increase an appetite? You feed it. (Think dark chocolate here.) How do you get rid of one? You starve it. So, intentional living is about continually feeding the spiritual man while starving the carnal man so that your godly appetite can increase while your sinful nature decreases.
Paul set his life as an example to other believers, then told other believers to unite as they sought to follow him.
Do you have a mentor? Someone who’s willing to come along side you, point out those sinful flaws that most will never see? Someone who will help you overcome your natural tendency toward stagnation as the two of you link arm in arm in a steady march toward the goal. Think you don’t have time? We’re all busy. But the tide pulling in the other direction is too strong not to find an ally along the way.
So how do you find a mentor? Watch the ladies in your church. It won’t take long to find a “Paul”–a mature believer who sets an example for others in how she lives. Then approach her. I know, kind of scary. But what’s the worst thing that can happen? So she says no. Then ask someone else.
Yesterday my daughter and I went for a walk. It was a beautiful afternoon. The weather was perfect—bright and sunny, with just enough warmth to make it pleasant but not enough heat to produce a sweat. A gentle breeze stirred newly fallen leaves across the sidewalk, covering nearby lawns in a blanket of red, orange and gold.
Our walk was slow. My daughter stopped periodically to pluck various leaves from the trees. We admired their beauty together. One in particular caught her attention. It was a peachy-orange with vibrant green along its veins, caught between life and death. As she twirled the leaf between her fingers, I thought about how often my own life mimics that leaf. I’ve been called to die to myself, to forsake those things that hinder my walk with Christ. But often I cling to my carnal life–to pride and selfish ambition—like that tiny leaf with blurred colors. And yet, to die, to truly surrender oneself into the loving arms of our Father, is where true beauty is found. Life, full, vibrant life, is found in death.
As my schedule increases, I have been forced to evaluate everything in light of the cross. And in the process, I’ve had to make a few difficult choices–I’ve had to die to self. Like that leaf my daughter twirled in her fingers, I find myself clinging between life and death, looking for that win-win compromise. But God has called me to complete surrender, not convenient surrender. At times, that means giving up some things I enjoy, to make time for the better, just like those leaves falling to the ground. And yet, like the song below says, if my Savior’s all He claims to be, I’m not losing anything.
John 12:24 “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remans only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (NIV)
First of all, run now, while you still have a chance. Just kidding. But seriously, writing is not for the thin-skinned. And it isn’t nearly as glamorous as it might seem. In fact, most days you’ll be glued to your computer, still in PJ’s at two in the afternoon, ball cap by your side in case one of your normal, presentable neighbors happen by. Although truth be told, you probably won’t answer the door anyway. Or the phone. Until the tips of your fingers throb from pounding your keyboard and your eyes cross from hours upon hours of edits.
Then you’ll stand up to force blood into your numbed legs and glance out the window as you try to reconnect with reality. You’d love to have someone to chat with, only all your neighbors are at work. You call a friend and leave a message. You hop on facebook and make a few random posts. You pace the room and have a few conversations with yourself. But then you glance at the clock. It’s just after one, which means you’ve got about two hours before the kids return from school and your nice silent haven turns into an unproductive madhouse. So, you toss all thoughts of socialization aside and bunker down. But hey, you’ve always got Alice, the heroine in your latest novel. She’s your friend, right?
Actually, I totally love what I do. I can’t envision myself doing anything else. (And believe me, I’ve tried. When I’ve noticed a fatal plot error requiring a total re-write or my computer crashes halfway through a 90,000 word document.) But I’m still here, plugging away, day after day, word after word. Only now, I’ve learned to do things differently.
1) I find ways to stay connected.
When I first started writing, I did it alone. It wasn’t long before I fell into a pattern of discouragement. We all experience that once in awhile, when our negative self-talk runs amuck and those fears, insecurities and frustrations bite away at our resolve. Now I’m a part of three writer’s groups and I cherish the support they offer. I’ve also taken the time to nurture deeper relationships with a few ladies I’ve met along the way. Yeah, they’re largely internet and phone relationships, but they work. My greatest resource has been the American Christian Fiction Writers network. They have an amazing online loop, numerous mature Christian authors who love pouring into the lives of newbies, and a phenomenal critique group.
2) I choose my close friends wisely.
The other day I listened to a writer friend talk about how someone had totally slammed on both her and her work. Not in your normal, “I think this would be stronger if…” This was all-out brutality. As she talked, I was reminded of the story of Joseph and how his brothers and father responded when he shared his God-given dream with them. They scoffed. They were so focused on who Joseph was–a runt–they overlooked the power standing behind him.
Writing is tough. You’re going to face rejection. A lot. You’re going to have to make tough decisions and you’re going to have to overcome a lot of inner demons that threaten to keep you stagnant. You certainly don’t need naysayers dragging you down. To the contrary. You need strong Christian friends who will encourage you to keep on keeping on, with your eyes focused on the goal with unwavering determination.
If you want to write more than mindless drivel, you’re gonna need to learn to rest. To trust. To listen. To fight the urge to do things in your own strength and wisdom as you continually lay yourself on the alter. This is a toughy, especially when you’ve got deadlines coming your way or writer’s block dragging you down. Our first tendency is to try harder and in doing so, we fail to connect with our true source of wisdom and power.
The other day I had the task of turning nine Bible chapters into an eight hundred word leaflet. Not an easy thing to do, especially for a word lover like me. And I really didn’t have the time to fret over it. Fretting is the biggest time sapper there is! So instead of forcing a bunch of drivel onto the screen, I closed my computer, walked into the bedroom and turned on some praise music. Basically, I passed the buck. I knew God had brought me this assignment. I knew He had a plan for it. I just needed to wait for Him to share His plan with me.
After spending a few moments in prayer and quiet, I returned to my computer with clarity and finished the leaflet in a relatively short period of time.
4) Take time to get away.
Those momentary refreshers are great, but they’re not enough. At least not for me. I can only rely on shout-out prayers for so long before my creativity begins to shrivel. Every once in a while I need to create my own little spiritual retreat. Normally I don’t go far. Maybe I’ll visit a hiking trail nearby or spend a few hours in a nearby park with my Pandora radio (on my iphone), a Bible and a notebook. Sometimes the getting there is hard, especially when my tasks are mounting, but I’ve learned those are the times when I most need to get away. And once I do, once I spend those cherished moments connecting with God, I come back twice as productive as before.
5) Let it go.
God’s already got the whole journey figured out. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Try not to look at the day-to-day. Learn as you go, walking forward with an eyes-wide-open approach as God guides you towards the finish line.
6) Take your thoughts captive.
Negativity breeds negativity. And quite frankly, it’s a waste of time–time you don’t have. Make a decision, right now, not to allow discouragement to linger in your brain. If God’s got it covered, what is there to be discouraged about? So you’ve got a 60,000 word rewrite, or realized your eighth edit wasn’t enough. And? I’m not joining your pity party here. I’m waiting at the finish line with my camera ready to catch your victorious smile when you break through the tape.
Our family used to rock-climb. Yeah, I know, this probably doesn’t fit the image you have of me. I’ll bet you’re remembering that post I wrote a while back about my fear of heights which translated into a fear of flying. But you should also remember that I refuse to let this fear hinder me. (And my fear of manmade things, like planes, is much greater than my fear of God made things, like rocks.) Besides, life is too short. Christ died to set me free. Why would I allow myself to remain in self-imposed bondage?
As I read my Bible this morning, I was reminded of a weekend we spent at a rock climbing ranch in Arkansas. It was one of those places designated for climbers, with camp sites tucked amidst mountainous boulders and well-trodden trails leading to numerous rock walls. The whole event is quite comical looking back. It had been my idea to go. In fact, the whole rock-climbing deal had been my idea. Largely because I felt God nudging me to do it. He saw a weakness in me—fear—and He wanted to slice it out. But as we readied for our climb, beef jerky, water bottles and climbing gear shoved in our packs, I wanted to turn around and head home. Fast. But I didn’t. I offered up a few, “God, don’t leave me hanging,” (literally) prayers and followed my husband up the mountain. The whole way I’m doing my, replace the lies with truth, mantra. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” “There is no fear in love for perfect love casts out fear.” “Do not let yourself be burdened by the yoke of slavery.” “For I have not been given the spirit of fear.”
You get the idea.
But twenty minutes later as I stood strapped into my harnesses ready to scale this towering rock wall, all my recitations fell flat as my best intentions collided with “reality”. Did I really trust God to hold me up? Was my husband (who was my belayer) as strong as I thought he was? Would the rope hold if I happened to slip?
Needless to say, I was terrified. My stomach twisted in knots and my hands went slick with sweat. Not a good thing when you’re about to climb.
Until I re-routed my thoughts. My rope was stronger. And it was attached to my anchor—my husband. Ultimately, it was my trust in him that allowed me to take that first step, and then the next, and the next, until I reached the top.
A while later, it was my daughter’s turn. She started out strong enough, but as the climb grew more difficult, she began to have trouble reaching those good holds. My husband noticed this as well and leaned back, working the rope like a pulley, lifting her up inch by inch, until she too made it to the top.
When I read through the New Testament, I’m awed by the tremendous amount of divine power displayed in believers. And they faced a lot more than a steep climb. They faced death. But they didn’t cower. Why? Because they had witnessed the miraculous—Christ rising from the dead. And sometimes, when we read about their courage and single-minded focus, it can be easy to rationalize it away. They had an extra dose of the Holy Spirit, right? But our God never changes. The same power that worked through them lives inside of us.
I love those verses that talk about God’s insurmountable power and I often have Chris Tomlin’s Our God is Greater on instant replay. But then, once the song is done, I go back to my nice safe little life, taking on only enough tasks to keep my boat afloat, but certainly not enough to send it into the waves. Basically, I take on those things that can be accomplished in my strength, keeping God and His promises tucked in my pocket for that occasional pep-talk. Nothing more.
It’s like I’ve built this natural safety net into my day. I’ve got to schedule in time for the occasional writer’s block, right? As doors open, I quickly grab my binoculars so I can see as far down that hallway as possible. And then I’ll walk tentatively, like a timid child, eyes darting all around waiting for that first hint of danger, ready to dash back into my safe, little predictable world.
Perhaps its a fear of failure that keeps me bound. And yet, Christ died to set me free. He’s given me everything I need to live a victorious life–a glorious life, a fully surrendered life marked by the ever-working power of the Holy Spirit.
For children set free by the grace of God, we sure live in angst. Fretting, stressing, over-analyzing, clinging to the safe and familiar. We say we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, but we live as if it’s all up to us.
I love this video created by Francis Chan:
I’ve been cemented to my balance beam for way too long. It’s time I lifted my head, centered my gaze on Christ and the power that He has given to me.
What about you? Are you giving yourself an excuse not to believe in God? Excuses like, “I can’t do that!” or “I’m too young.” Or, “I’m too old, too shy,” whatever. Excuses that translate as lack of faith.
Step out of that boat. Yeah, I know, there’s a good chance you’ll sink–if you rely on your own strength. But God never intended you to go it alone. He wants you in a place of weakness because that is when He is most glorified. He wants you in a place of dependence because that is when you will be the most pliable.
I love this passage in Ephesians 1:17-21: “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spiritof wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.”
Yesterday I threw another one of my Jennifer-sized fits. No, I didn’t hurl things. No, I didn’t raise my voice. I threw a fit in my way–with lots of tears and a slew of complaints. And as usual, my husband wrapped me in his arms, smooshed my face to his chest so that my nasal passages flattened against my cheek, sufficiently blocking all air, and poured words of encouragement into my heart.
It didn’t work. I was still mad, and frustrated. I wanted him to hear me–to understand.
And he did. I could tell by the way he got up, cleaned the kitchen, folded the laundry and did the ironing that he understood how I felt. (Sorry, ladies, he’s taken.) But unlike me, his eyes weren’t focused on the mountain ahead of me, or the insecurities inside me.
“I have faith in you. I know you can do this.”
“Yeah, well you think I can do anything,” I snarled back. (Actually, I think it was more of a snarl, grunt, sniffle.)
“Because you can.”
Well let me tell you, that made me angrier! So I stormed off to take our daughter jean shopping–again–leaving my to-do list on the counter. (You already know what I came home to–a clean house and a calm, loving husband.)
Ah, those men of ours. What was God thinking when He paired Steve and I together? I don’t think He was looking at our honeymoon or our white picket fence dreams. I think His plans were a bit more eternal than that, and a bit more balanced. He was looking at our rough edges, the piles of sandpaper He’d already ordered, and the beautiful carving He was working to create. And unlike me, God isn’t focused on my momentary comfort or pleasure. He’s got a big-picture, bride of Christ view.
Ladies, do you remember all the things you did to get ready for your wedding? The hours you spent pouring over hairstyles, tasting cakes, talking with catering companies. But the highlight? Trying on your wedding dress. You knew what you wanted. You’d envisioned that gown for years, decades. Then one day you found it–the perfect gown, the one that would turn your prince’s head and set a glitter in his eye. The only problem was it was half a size to small. Oh, you could have bought the bigger one, the one that draped a little over your shoulders and sagged a bit at your waist. Or maybe you could have chosen a different one entirely, but no, this was your dress. And you were going to do whatever it took to make it fit. Even if that meant eating alfalfa sprouts for weeks on end. And it wasn’t easy. At times, it was even downright painful. (If you’ve ever tried a boot camp class, you know exactly what I’m talking about!)
But then the day came, and as you walked toward your groom, his eyes centered on you, your struggles to get to that point were completely forgotten. The diets and endless hours at the gym were nothing more than a distant memory. And that dress that at times seemed impossible to fit (like when you downed a gallon of ice-cream in a moment of stress) fit perfectly. As if it was tailored just for you.
Well ladies, we’ve got another wedding coming–a royal feast awaiting. And if you belong to Christ, you’ve already got your gown. (Matthew 22:1-14) It’s radiantly white, washed in the blood of the lamb. Only it doesn’t quite fit yet. There are still a few lumps God needs to purge away, but don’t worry, He’s got that covered, too. He’s already looking at the royal feast, and you decked in your gown. Your “diet” might be painful now as He removes those nasty things that distort your godly figure–those things like fear, and pride, and worldly distractions, but in the end, it will be glorious. And all your struggles now? They’ll be long forgotten, for all of eternity.
I loved this message sent to me from a friend today:
“May God remember you like Noah …
Favour you like Joseph …
Qualify you like Moses …
Shepherd you like David …
Empower you like Elijah …
Transform you like Mary Magdalene …
And love you like Himself …
El-Shaddai … JESUS LOVES YOU!”
