Theory vs. Practice

"Love without limits." "Love in spite of." "Love without getting anything in return." "Love like Jesus." Those phrases, read with inspiring music playing in my head, sound noble, like a worthy aspiration. And they are. But they are far easier to say than to do. To think about than to implement.

We have been fostering our son's sister for nine weeks now. We know that the goal of foster care is reunification with the birth family. We, intentional or not, received the impression that probably it would be a clear path to adopting little Miss S. We found out that isn't the case.

We don't know what will ultimately happen. In the world of foster care, it's early days. But. But. We had already built the future in our minds, and forgotten to hold loosely. We had prayed for so long for a sister for Z that we assumed an ending that hadn't yet been made clear. He has a sister, and they will be siblings forever. We just don't know if she will be living with us or not.

Almost all adoptions/foster situations are more complicated than they look. We want the best for S, and that may be living with her birth family. Children living with their birth families is what is supposed to happen. Foster care and adoption is not what is supposed to happen. They can be beautiful and redemptive and loving, but it is only reality because of sin. Sin always leads to sadness and heartbreak for someone.

We love S. We want her to stay in our family. We want her and Z to grow up together. If she must leave, we will be heartbroken. Her big brother loves his "Sissy" very much, and my heart quails and my eyes overflow imagining explaining to him (who won't be able to really understand anything but that she's gone) that his sister had to go away.

But. But. Children belong with biological parents if it is possible, and if it is a safe and loving environment. While I think I know what is best for S, I am not God. I don't know the future. I only know my feelings and my desires, and they are currently at war. I want S to stay with us. At the same time, as a Christian, one of the deepest desires of my heart is that God be glorified, and that I follow and obey the teachings of Jesus. The temptation is twofold: To wish ill will for our kids' birth parents and pursue what we want at any cost, or, maybe worse, to withhold our hearts from our daughter (which she will always be) to try to lessen the pain. Neither choice will glorify God.

Today in church we sang an older Mercy Me song, "God With Us". The chorus has the line, "All that is within me cries For You alone be glorified." My husband and I want that to be true for us. Yet that choice, so romantic and lofty, holds the potential for much pain. The next line is the only power that will sustain us in this journey: "Emmanuel, God with Us."

God's heart has felt its share of pain. He gave up His Son. We say that a lot, but the true import of it is beyond knowing. He has put this baby in our home, and in our hearts for a reason. We will trust that He will give us grace for whatever happens, and that, whether she stays for six months or for our lifetime, we will love her wholeheartedly. 

This obedient choice does not make us saints. Many of you reading this would choose the same. If we knew what we know now, would we change our minds? Would you? If told your child had a sibling who needed a safe and loving home? That maybe she would stay with you and with her big brother? How could we not? How can we not love her to the best of our ability? We have been loved so so much by the Lord and by His family. When the time comes to put our grand and romantic and real theories into action, we will do so, knowing that "I can do all things, through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)--and that God's strength is the only way, and that it will be enough.

Taking Stock

Five years ago today, I walked down the aisle at my wedding. It was a long time coming, and a union accomplished only by God's design (A Wedding Story ). I know my husband, Paul, and I had discussed "Where do you think we'll be in five years?" I'm not sure we would have imagined that there would be a toddler asleep upstairs for a nap and a newborn snoozing on my chest as I type.

I always envisioned that I would be married sometime in my twenties, enjoy a few years just with my husband, and then start having children, maybe four. Yet, years (and years and years) went by as I watched almost all my friends do just those things. Wedding after wedding, and baby shower after baby shower. It was hard to see so many people get the life that I had wanted. I prayed, and cried, and demanded, and cried, and prayed. . .

A deep longing of my heart was to just be "normal". To get married when my friends did, to have kids when my closest friends did. Nope. I remember talking to the Lord about this--"Is it so much to ask? To be normal? To be like everyone else?"

Now, beginning my fifth year as a wife and in the middle of my second year as a mom, well. . . Still not normal. Those close friends of mine? Their kids are going to college and getting married and having babies now. Most of the moms with kids our children's ages could also BE our kids. It makes forming new friendships interesting. Paul often gets mistaken for Grandpa, and while I haven't (yet) been called Grandma, I did have someone ask me last weekend if I were Mom or Grandma.

I don't know why the Lord waited so long to bless me with marriage. In the past I have said that I wished I knew Paul earlier, but now I have rethought that, since earlier means different children. I do know that being out of sync with most other people keeps me looking to the Lord for acceptance and peace and grace. I definitely know that being an older parent also requires extra strength and energy and faith to believe that we are the best choice for these children, at this time.

Life in the mainstream or out of it . . all of it requires faith and trust that the Lord is enough, no matter our (perceived) level of "normal".

My life is not how I thought it would be (I'm learning that very few people's are), but it is so, so good.

Psalm 16: 5-6 (ESV):


5 Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure.
6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    surely I have a delightful inheritance.
7 I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
8 I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

I Want It I Want It I Want It

Seems like teaching + infant = no blog posts for a while! However, things are relatively calm on the home front now (planning a six month update in a few weeks) and, as I had been told, watching babies leads to thoughts about God and how He takes care of us.

Our little guy is about five and a half months old. He can roll over and grab toys and stick everything in his mouth. He has an activity gym that he loves! He can reach all of the dangling toys now, but he can't get them into his mouth. Cue: massive frustration:

Yesterday morning he was just livid that he could not, no matter how hard he pulled, get those rings all the way into his mouth. After a few minutes of yelling and screeching, I had to just scoop him up, give him snuggles, and move him away from his obsession. We went and looked outside, and talked, and walked, and left the scene of the emotion.

As I was holding him and watching him calm down, it struck me that I have done the same thing in my life, albeit in a slightly more subtle (or maybe not) manner. There were times when I was single when I fixated on dating sites and trying to WILL the right guy to contact me. I can fixate on the one chore my husband forgot rather than the seven he completed. More recently, during our adoption wait, I would stalk the "waiting families" page. I would scour other people's profiles to figure out what they were doing that we weren't. I remember crying to our social worker in frustration that our profile page wasn't yet on the portal because the expectant mom for us could be looking RIGHT NOW (a year and a half before we were matched with little guy's mom). In those moments, like our baby who could only see the rings he could not reach, all I could see was the husband or baby or ____________ that I couldn't conjure despite my best efforts.

The Lord, who is a much better parent than I, wants to draw me away from my frustrated fixation to spending time with Him and widening my vision to see the bigger world and what He is doing in it. Sadly, my grown-up self is not as easily moved as an infant, so sometimes I spend far longer than five minutes screeching in frustration at things I can't change.

Little Man will gain access to those rings when he's a big bigger or able to sit up. When the time is right, he'll be able to get them into his mouth or throw them or whatever he wants to do with them. Later in the afternoon, I detached that turtle toy with the rings and handed it to him, thinking that would make him happy. It didn't. He was just as frustrated having them in his hands as when they were attached. Whatever he was wanting to do with them, he wasn't able to do it yet. 

Had I gotten some of the things I wanted when I wanted them, my life would be different. I wouldn't have necessarily been any happier. God, in His wisdom knows when to give me the toy and when to withhold it. 

As I witnessed my son's frustration, the verse that came to mind was from Matthew 11:28-30, when Jesus shared these words:

 Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

I am reminded that, when I am caught in the frustration of wanting it RIGHT NOW, I need to turn my eyes to Jesus and let Him calm me, comfort me, and re-orient my vision to the tasks and gifts He has for me.

Supposed To Be . . .

Today was supposed to be the day that we brought our son home. After seventeen months as a waiting family, we were matched with an expectant mom and all seemed well. The baby was born earlier in the week and today was supposed to be the start of a new chapter in our lives and the fulfillment of long-held hopes and dreams.

Instead, the bassinet was moved to the basement, the pack n play is folded and packed away, and all the other baby paraphernalia is hidden in drawers and closets. So close, again, but denied.

There's no one to blame, really. Just broken people, like each one of us, seeking love and acceptance and chasing a dream of family. We're just the collateral damage who were standing in the middle.

We saw him an hour after birth. Fed him his first bottle. Tried (unsuccessfully) to get his first burps. Watched the first bath and the weighing and the measuring. Held him. Rocked him. Cried tears of joy. Successfully burped him. Prayed over him. Then, in one phone call, it all changed.

We sobbed. We held him one last time, prayed, kissed him on the forehead, and wheeled him back. We said goodbye, trusting him to a God who sees the end from the beginning and loves us fiercely.

We are broken people too. This morning was the morning we were supposed to bring him home and we would be, officially, parents. Instead, we are full of tears, sorrow, and sadness.

We don't feel strong. We're trusting the Lord as best we can, trusting in the truth that He will work all of this for good (Romans 8: 28). But it's hard. And it hurts.  We are held up by God's grace and love and the love and support being shown to us by our friends and family, with whom we have been gifted beyond measure.

Maybe there's a different son or daughter still to come. Maybe we will become parents in a way we can't imagine. Maybe the answer is "no" and we will fulfill another purpose.

Even if it was only for two days, we are thankful to have loved a precious, beautiful, baby boy, and we will never forget him. He will always be in our hearts and a part of our family.

Update to this story: Unless God. . .

Eyes Opened (or Not)

It's the 273rd day of 2017, in case you missed it. I know that because the Bible app that I use to read through the Bible in a year tells me so. Today's Old Testament reading was in Jeremiah. Poor Jeremiah, one of the most unsuccessful (as far as converts) prophets ever. I have to take a deep breath before reading Jeremiah. But today I noticed something new.

Jeremiah 2:5-6; and verse 8a (emphasis mine):

Thus says the Lord:

“What wrong did your fathers find in me
    that they went far from me,
and went after worthlessness, and became worthless?
 They did not say, ‘Where is the Lord
    who brought us up from the land of Egypt,
who led us in the wilderness,
    in a land of deserts and pits,
in a land of drought and deep darkness,
    in a land that none passes through,
    where no man dwells?’ 

The priests did not say, ‘Where is the Lord? Those who handle the law did not know me; 

The passage addresses the idolatry of Israel's people even after they had been delivered from Egypt by God. Israel has strayed and hardships are happening, but the people aren't asking where God is. Instead, they are turning to idols and trying to solve the problems on their own.

The phrase "Where is God?" can be uttered with either anticipation or despair. I recently attended a women's retreat and played hooky from one of the sessions. I hiked up a hill with only my Bible--and not any Bible, but my old, big, actual paper and ink Bible--and a pen. No phone at all. Just me and God and my Bible sitting on an old bench under a tree.

That morning, God used the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, recorded in Mark 10. Bartimaeus is sitting by the road and hears Jesus walking by. He cries out "Son of David, have mercy on me" repeatedly, annoying the people nearby. Jesus stops and asks him what the beggar wants Jesus to do for him. Bartimaeus replies, "Rabbi, let me recover my sight." Jesus immediately restores his sight.

I realized that for many months lately, I had been blind to the workings of the Lord. That morning, it was me who was crying out to God to have mercy on me and to restore my sight so that I could see Him at work. Instead of blindly going through life not seeing what God is doing, I wanted to see with my eyes of faith and believe that God is always present and active.

I believe that God has restored my spiritual sight. I have recognized God's hand and provision in big and small instances in the last few weeks. Even this morning, to hear God speak to me though my daily reading is a moment of seeing clearly. Today I ask "Where is God?" with anticipation as I search for His hand and touch in the world around me.

However, "Where is God?" is sometimes cried with despair and hopelessness. Job cries for the Lord this way. Hannah prayed this way when begging for a child. I have asked this when I can't see what God is doing and it feels like He's far away. From the words in Jeremiah, I think that God wants us to ask the question from either emotion. He just wants us to turn toward Him, whether we are blind and groping wildly or have our eyes open, seeking purposefully.

Jeremiah's words may have gone unheeded in his time, but I heard them loud and clear at the breakfast table this morning!

Dimly

Still trudging out of the desert over here. I continue with reading through the Bible in a year and read in both Kings and Luke this week. The account of Elijah challenging the prophets of Baal via the "Whose God can Light the Altar on Fire First" contest remains one of my favorite Biblical stories (1 Kings 18). Elijah sees God's power consume a drenched altar and the prophets of Baal defeated. However, immediately after this victory, we find Elijah dejected in the desert, having fled from Jezebel and her threat on his life.

While in the desert, Elijah meets with God, and tells the Lord:

". . .I have been very jealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant,thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away." (1 Kings 19:14)

In Elijah's mind, all hope is gone, and he is all alone, the only one who is faithful to the Lord. However, God reveals to Elijah that there are seven thousand people who have not bowed their knee to Baal. Seven thousand, instead of just Elijah.

Sometimes I have the same amount of faith as Elijah hiding out in the desert. Elijah feels alone, and is certain that there is no one else on his team. Yet, there are 7000 people allied with him. What he believed wasn't true. It wasn't even close to the truth. It reminds me of Jesus' miracle with the loaves and fishes. Though the disciples had seen him do miraculous deeds, they didn't believe He could feed the people, and yet there were twelve baskets full of leftovers when dinner was finished.

Over and over in the Bible, God provides so much more than we can imagine. I remember days in my life feeling like I would never find a man to marry. There were days I was certain that such a man simply did not exist (and I didn't think my requirements were even that burdensome). Yet, I have been blessed with a husband far better than I ever expected.

This latest stint in the desert has lasted a long time. Days and months of feeling far away from the Lord and morning after morning of opening the Bible out of discipline, deaf to the truth I was reading. I have thought that maybe I would never hear from God again. Reading about Elijah reminds me that I and all of us see so dimly and have such small faith. Elijah was sure he was alone--but he wasn't. I was sure I would never find a husband--but I did. I was almost certain I would never again have truth leap off the pages of Scripture--but it's starting to again.

I want to learn how to walk in faith, and how to remember the loaves and the fishes and the 7000 faithful when I feel hungry and alone. God is at work whether I see it or not. He is present whether I feel it or not. The Chris Tomlin song, "I Will Rise" has lyrics in verse two that speak to this: "There's a day that's drawing near when this darkness breaks to light, and the shadows disappear and my faith shall be my eyes."

I think I see clearly. I am wrong. My eyes, this world, are all shrouded still in darkness until Jesus comes again.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. (I Corinthians 13:12)

No More Fear?

Five months since I have blogged.  Five months since I posted about feeling stuck. Five months in which I remained stuck. Just in the past week or so have I dared to hope that, maybe, I'm starting to come unstuck. Not by any act of mine, but simply by the grace of God.

I struggle with fear and worry. Every day I wonder and worry about someone I love dying. About the new over-forty-year-old body ache that surely signifies cancer or some other dread disease. About a blizzard or tornado, depending on the season. Every time I fly I imagine that I could crash. Every time my husband drives I imagine he could crash. And, all these things could happen.

Tuesday I was reading in the Bible  about the time when the disciples were in a boat with Jesus:  

 And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.”  And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” (Matthew 8:24-27)

Jesus asks the disciples why they are afraid. I would think it would be obvious: They're in a boat, it's storming, and the boat is being swamped. Which means, to me, that if I were there I would be afraid that the boat is going to sink. Plus, Jesus, the one Whom they look to for help was asleep. Then Jesus tells them they don't have much faith. In the same account as told in Luke 8, verse 25 reports that Jesus asks them, "Where is your faith?" I've been thinking about that question for the past few days.

It seems as if Jesus is saying that if they had faith, they wouldn't fear. Even with the waves crashing, even with the water threatening to sink the boat, they should not be afraid. Why? I went on a search through the New Testament to find the people who were commended for their faith. On the list were the Roman Centurion whose daughter is healed, the friends of the paralyzed man who lowered him through the roof to see Jesus, the bleeding woman who touched Jesus' hem, the Canaanite woman who sought healing for her daughter, the blind beggar who cries out to Jesus, and the tenth leper who returns to give thanks. Each of these were people I found who had direct dealings with Jesus.

What did they have in common? They sought out Jesus and believed that He could help them. Yet, so did the disciples. The disciples also went to Jesus and  asked Him for help. I wonder if (as it always is) it was a difference in what was in each person's heart. Did the disciples really believe that Jesus could help them? Were they annoyed with him for being asleep? Did they truly believe (as they soon learned) that Jesus could still the very winds and waves that were threatening to capsize them? Where had they placed their faith?

How much better would my life be if I weren't fearful and worried, especially over things that haven't even happened? Why can I choose not to fear? Over and over I return to the basic elements of Christianity. I can choose not to fear because Jesus is with me. Nothing that I will face, should my worst imaginings come to pass, will be bigger than God's power and grace. I need to put my faith, my confidence, and my assurance in the person of Jesus--the Jesus who stilled those waves, healed those people, and rose victorious from that grave.

Hebrews 2: 14-15 says this:

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil,  and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.

Look at that last phrase again: "...those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery." I have been a slave to the fear of death. I do not have to be. Through Jesus' resurrection, I have been set free from this fear. I will be with Jesus when I die. The people I love who follow and believe Jesus, I will see again in eternity. I don't need to be enslaved. I am not enslaved.

The Message paraphrase of Hebrews 2:14-15 puts it like this:

Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it’s logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the Devil’s hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death.

I no longer need to be scared to death of death. I no longer need to fear. Come what may, Jesus is in the boat with me. I pray that God will show me how to find my faith and abandon fear.

Francis Shaeffer and the Undead (Zombie Theology)

What? Two posts in one week? Pick yourself off of the floor!

As regular readers know, I have been keeping up with season four of "The Walking Dead" (TWD). I've been trying to figure out my fascination with it.  I hate blood and gore, of which there are plenty on the show, so I spend many minutes with my eyes closed. I like happy endings, and happy stories, and happy people. Not so far, not too many, and not too often. Yet I am hooked.

I am also reading Francis Schaeffer's book, True Spirituality.Schaeffer was a Christian theologian who lived from 1912-1984. True Spirituality tells of Schaeffer's examination of his faith and exposition of what it means to live life, real life, as a believer in Christ. I will confess: I've only read the first two chapters. However unlikely, the first chapter of Schaeffer's book gives me a clue why I am so fascinated with "The Walking Dead."

Schaeffer posits in the first chapter (as I understand it), that the breaking of the ten commandments (and, by extension, all sin) is rooted in the inward sin of covetousness. He states, on page seven:

We must see that to love God with all the heart, mind, and soul is not to covet against God; and to love man, to love our neighbor as ourselves, is not to covet against man. When I do not love the Lord as I should, I am coveting against the Lord. And when I do not love my neighbor as I should, I am coveting against him.

Schaeffer sees coveting as wanting something other than what God has given and believing that God is wrong in what He gives, and as wanting what someone else has. For most of us, once we are past the age of about ten, coveting is inward. We don't just tell our friend that we want their cute clothes or their great car or their wonderful boyfriend. But we think it. As adults, many of us struggle with wanting someone else's talents or looks or relationships. We don't much talk about it, but it's always there, under the surface.

Zombies on TWD (disclaimer: I am not an expert on the genre or mythology of zombies) have one goal: To eat. They have one preferred food: Human flesh. They want what they want, they want it now, and they don't care who gets hurt in the process. Their one and only purpose is keeping themselves alive (well, kind of, in an undead sort of way).

Zombies, to me, are the graphic image of the sin nature that is at the core of each of us. We hide it, we dress it up, we fight it, but each of us have needs or desires that we pursue with single-mindedness and without much caring whether someone else gets hurt as long as we get what we want. In our lives, the sin is usually disguised, but, in our worst moments, most of us recognize that we really do want what we want and intend to get it.

The people on TWD are not yet zombies (spoiler alert if you've never watched), but as soon as they die, that's what they become. They are "zombies walking" who have only two fates: To become a zombie or to have their brain destroyed as soon as they die to prevent this. There is no cure. I have not read the comic book series upon which the show is based, so I don't know if a cure is ever found.

All of us are "zombies walking" in the sense that we are sick with sin. There is no human cure. I can try really, really hard, but I will still internally covet something someone else has. Schaeffer puts it like this: "'Thou shalt not covet' is the internal commandment that shows the man who thinks himself to be moral that he really needs a Savior." (p. 7)

The characters on TWD need to be rescued. They need someone to save them from death. I need to be rescued. I need someone to save me from death. If I were writing TWD, there would be a rescuer. There would be a savior. In my life, God sends a rescuer. He sends a savior. The raging zombie of sin has been forgiven and redeemed by the love of Jesus. I am no longer enslaved to covetousness. I no longer have to fear death:

I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed[emphasis mine]. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:“Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory?    O death, where is your sting?”The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:50-57)

Can You Hear Me Now?

I'm a teacher who works with small children. I would be rich if I had a nickel for all the times over the past twenty years that I have said, "Pay attention. Are you listening? What did I say? I just said that. Look at me. Turn your listening ears on. I don't want to have to say this again." And on, and on.

I've been a Christian longer than I have been a teacher. I would probably also be rich if I had a nickel for all the times that God has been speaking to me and I have missed it or ignored it or not recognized that it was Him doing the talking.

The past several months have been difficult ones for me. I left a church family of eighteen years in obedience to what I still believe was the direct leading of the Holy Spirit. In my economy, obedience in a hard thing should lead to big reward (again, like my students: "If we do a good job, do we get a Skittle?"). Instead, it has seemed to lead to silence. I have continued in the disciplines of the faith, reading my Bible and praying and attending church. I have felt disconnected and have believed that God was not speaking. The loneliness and silence have made me angry and hurt, which led to an attitude of cynicism and sarcasm concerning what God is doing.

Last Sunday was the first glimpse of God that I have noticed in a while. In the middle of the message, or the song, or. . . I don't even remember, it occurred to me that God has been quietly doing things in my life. I had been praying and praying for guidance in a particular situation, and while there was no thundering voice from heaven, circumstances aligned and I had my answer. My  moment of clarity:  God is moving even when I don't see it.

Wednesday I had another sighting. A dear friend called specifically to see how I was doing Unfortunately, in the way we perversely do when someone we love and trust starts poking around, I reacted with defensiveness and intellectual argument and a refusal to acknowledge the presence of God in anything at all right now, EVER. However, in the perverse way of the love of Jesus, she prayed over me and for me and I started to pay attention that the very act of a friend calling, caring, listening, praying, and loving was the Lord at work to draw me closer to Him.

I determined that I needed (when don't I?) more time to spend with God praying and working through some of this. I sat down on the couch this morning and picked up Charles Swindoll's book about Esther that I have been reading but not opened in weeks. The chapter was about the silence of God.

Okay. I'm starting to get it (today, anyhow). I've read the story about Elijah in 1 Kings 19:9-18, about how the Lord speaks to him not in a wind, an earthquake, or a fire; but in a whisper. I know that in my brain, but my heart still wants something loud--because then I know for sure that I'm doing what I should be. Yet often the Lord is moving through quiet circumstances and speaking in words we already know. I want to be connected to a church family again. I've found a church to try. Yet I have been dragging my heels about joining a small group. Do I need a telegram to know what to do? I want more depth with God. I found out about a women's Bible study that keeps coming back to my mind. Do I need angels singing?

Again and again, because I am as slow to listen and pay attention as my students (with less excuse, since most of them are only seven years old), God reminds me that faith is not based in burning bushes and talking donkeys, but in the ever-present knowledge of the love of Christ shown me on the cross. God's voice was not heard in the book of Esther, yet His purposes prevailed. His silence does not mean that He is idle in my life. I am praying for a heart that sees Him at work in the smallest of ways.

Silence

Hello?? Are you still there?? Yeah, I know. . . I've been gone for quite a little while. . . When I started this blog, my aim was to write to share what God was showing me. Lately, I haven't been hearing from God. Which then leaves me without thoughts to ponder and words to write.

If you've been a Christian for any length of time, you've probably heard about "dry spells": When you are still doing what you do (reading the Bible, praying, going to church), but you feel disconnected from the Lord. I've been in a dry spell, I guess. I am reading my Bible (trying the chronological approach to reading through the Bible in a year. Not loving it). I am praying. More or less. Sometimes less than more, but praying. Going to church is a bit tricky, because I'm between churches right now for longer than I ever have been, with it being summer and traveling and simply not being in town to visit churches to see where I need to be. I have been going to churches when I can, but as a visitor.

I don't like feeling disconnected. I don't like feeling helpless. I know that God is still there. I know that it's usually me that has stepped away, or has something going on in my head or heart that's blocking the connection. But I haven't known what it was. My recourse: Just keep praying that God will show me what it is and keep doing what I know to do. Keep trusting. Keep walking.

There is an excerpt from C.S. Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters" that I always think about during those dry times:

Sooner or later, [God] withdraws, if not in fact, at least from [believer's] conscious experience, all those supports and incentives. He leaves the creature [that would be us] to stand up on its own legs--to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best. . . He wants [believers] to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hands; and if only the will to walk is really there, He is pleased even with their stumbles. (The Screwtape Letters, p. 39)

I have learned that there is really nothing I can do to "fix" it, much as I would like to. I got some insight about a week ago, totally out of the blue. The thought came to me that I was angry at God. I was frustrated and mad (again) about being single and childless when I have desired my whole life to be married and a mom. It's not like God and I have not wrestled, argued, and cried about this before. We have. Numerous times. For me, part of peace with the Lord is sharing all my emotions with Him, bad ones included. He already knows what I'm thinking, and only by telling Him exactly what I am thinking and feeling can I clear the path to intimacy with Him. Which sounds great, except that it usually involves pain and tears, which are not my favorite way to spend an evening.

So, knowing what I now need to do: spend some time and go to that place and bring it to God, I finally sit myself down to do it. And I do. And, lo and behold, this time the whole spectre of singleness was NOT really the problem. Turns out I was mad about something else. Turns out I didn't appreciate being obedient in a hard area and feeling sure I was following the Lord's direction only to feel all alone and left out. So, we dealt with that. Which equaled me feeling a little bit better because at least I knew WHY I was feeling like I was.

I still don't feel very connected. At the end of that evening, the one thing I was reminded of was the basic truth about Jesus in my life:  I am not alone. Felt or not, He is with me always, as He promised in scripture: And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20)

I also had a song running through my head, "There You Are" by Carolyn Arends (whom you've probably never heard of, and I don't know if she has anything recent, but she is one of my favorites): 

 Carolyn Arends - There You Are

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And so I will keep walking. And trusting. And, eventually, the connection will return:

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:6-7).

Drawing Near

I intended on writing about practicing faith today. I'm reading  "The Fitting Room" by Kelly Minter, and in chapter five she shares a helpful explanation of how we work with the Lord to transform our character by what we choose to "practice".  I was musing over how I so much need to practice faith, and choose to believe God's Word as it applies to my life. . .

And I do. And you do. But there are times in our lives when it's too hard and we can't. We know all the right words and the applicable verses and what we SHOULD do and what we think God wants us to do, and we want to do it. But we can't.

Why can't we? Because it's too hard. Because we can't wait any longer for whatever it is we need. Because we cannot hope one more time only to be disappointed. Because we can't imagine living the rest of our life feeling this way. Because we don't see how to believe when the answer up to this point is always "No" (and maybe it's "Not yet" which is just a nicer way of saying "No".). Because there's nothing we can do to change our circumstances. Because we are tired of trying to be positive and full of faith in the face of denial.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I would have been rendered even more hopeless because I would have decided that since I can't walk in faith, then God would be mad at me and disappointed in me. Okay, maybe not so once-upon-a-time; maybe just this morning. I'm getting a glimpse, though, that maybe God's not like that.

Have you ever seen a two- or three-year-old when they are in a meltdown? When they are either hungry or tired or sad or mad or all those things at the same time? When nothing you offer or threaten turns off their tears? Reason is out the window. All they know is that they don't feel good and their world is a mess and there is no way to fix it(that they can see). All you can do is to pick them up and hold them (and they often don't want to accept this, either) and wait for the storm to pass.

I think we are like that sometimes. It feels like the most important things to us aren't working. Nothing can fix it. No one helps. We are just tired and sad and mad and we no longer have the strength or ability to walk by faith. Maybe the Lord just wants us to come to Him in all of our weariness, sorrow, and anger. Maybe all we have to do is to "draw near":

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.(James 4:8)

Drawing near to the Lord when we are weak IS walking by faith. It's believing that He is there and waiting and good and will accept us even when we have nothing to offer.  I think we forget that we never had anything to offer--it was all God at the beginning, and it remains all Him in the middle. By drawing near I am trusting that God will give me the grace for what I face, and the strength to keep walking. And, sometimes, it's all that we can do.

Control Freak Confessions. . .

I'm alive. Still here. Continuing to read my Bible and pray and seek God. I'm also a control freak. Continuing to try to manipulate God (in the nicest way) to give me what I want. It isn't working very well. Do you ever feel like you learn the same lessons over and over and over? A friend of mine refers to it as "coming around the mountain" again and again.

The longer I follow Jesus, the more I think there really isn't that much new to learn, just re-visiting bedrock truths until I finally rest in them.

I recently experienced a disappointment. Most of you can probably guess in what arena.  Apparently finding a husband requires dating, and dating requires risking, and risking often results in hurt. Intellectually, I understand this equation, and I understand that part of the dating process is figuring out whether to continue in said relationship, and that sometimes we all change our minds.

The tricky part, which I didn't realize until the last week or so, is not so much dealing with the other halves of the dating equation, but with the Lord. All through this process I have been trying to pray diligently.  Really godly, good prayers like "Lead and guide me.  Lead and guide him. I just want to glorify you. Do what is best." Don't those SOUND godly and humble? And they can be, depending on the heart from which they come.

Cynic that I am sometimes tempted to be, I know that my heart will never be completely pure until I die and am with Jesus. However, I tend to forget how selfish and manipulative my motives can be underneath the submitted-sounding words. I mean those words--I DO want the Lord to lead me, and I want Him to be glorified and I want Him to do what He wants with my life. But I also want Him to hear me and reward me for saying the right words and even trying to believe that I mean them 100%.

However, the proof comes when God answers my prayers in a way that I don't like. "No, not this time" is an answer. It is proof that the He is leading and guiding me; it's just that He's not leading me in the direction or guiding me into the relationship that I wanted. He's doing what's best for me because the Bibles tells me so (Romans 12:2 one example of reminding me that God's will is good, acceptable, and perfect), but it's not what I think is best. When I think this way, I end up angry at God. Mad that He's not giving me the goody when I tried to be the good girl.

After walking around in a funk for a week or two, I finally just sat down and really told the Lord exactly how I was feeling.  Somehow I never go straight to Him, but have to be miserable for a while first. Over and over I find that when I finally do get honest with God, I am able to see myself clearly, and the games that I play, and the reason I need Jesus in the first place. I am also finally able to breathe, to relax and to quit trying to make things happen.

Guess what? I can't control if I ever find a husband (well, at least if I ever find a good, godly one). When I try to control it, I end up stressed out and anxious, and with the danger of enshrining dating, a relationship, or marriage as an idol. In the preschool Sunday school class that I co-teach, we have been trying to explain to children how the Israelites built a golden calf to worship.  We made "jewelry" out of  Play-doh, smashed it up and then make a calf (well, kind of). It seemed utterly idiotic for the Jews to melt down their own earrings and then worship them. And yet, I am again reminded that I am not so different.

A touchstone verse for me the past year has been Psalm 138:8 (NAS):

The Lord will accomplish what concerns me;
Your lovingkindness, O Lord, is everlasting;
Do not forsake the works of Your hands.

 I need to stop saying it and start believing it!

Even If. . .

Today I read one of my favorite passages in the Old Testament, in Esther.  The exiled Jews have just heard about the edict against them--that in months, they will be slaughtered, legally, by the government.  Queen Esther's cousin Mordecai delivers a message to her, urging her to go to the king and plead for the lives of their people.  Esther at first gives all the reasons why that will never work.  Mordecai responds: 

“Do not think to yourself that in the king's palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews.  For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish.” (Esther 4:13b-14a)

What stood out to me this morning was Mordecai's utter faith that, whether Esther spoke up or not, the Lord would deliver them. As a Jew, he would have known that the Lord had promised to protect His chosen people.  Mordecai had a plan--Esther to intervene with the king--but greater than his trust in his plan was his faith in his God.

I am thankful that we can see Mordecai's humanness.  "When Mordecai learned all that had been done, Mordecai tore his clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes, and went out into the midst of the city, and he cried out with a loud and bitter cry." (Esther 4:1).  He didn't just nod and pray and twiddle his thumbs, waiting for divine intervention. He wailed.  He grieved.  He sought out Esther and had to ask her not once, but twice to speak to the king. Once Esther was persuaded, he led the Jews in fasting for her for three days.  

Mordecai was facing certain death if the edict were carried out as written.  He responded with honest emotion, a plan, and faith in a God who might or might not work through the plan Mordecai had conceived.  Where did his faith come from?  The knowledge of the promises of God to be faithful to His people.

Fast forward to me, a 21st century Christian facing not possible imminent physical death, but the possible death of hopes or dreams or security.  I am going to lose loved ones.  The idea I had in my head of what my life would be doesn't seem to be happening.  I have waited and waited and waited for good things that I want (and, truth be told, believe that I need).  Yet I, too, have promises from the Lord as well.  Promises to meet my needs.  Promises to give me the desires of my heart.  Promises that nothing, NOTHING, can separate me from His love:

 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

My plan may not work out.  My idea of how God will work may not be correct.  My desires may not be met in the timetable that I prefer (or at all).  Will I, with Mordecai, have the faith to believe that "relief and deliverance" will rise from God's perfect plan, His powerful execution of that plan, and His purposeful timing in when that plan occurs?  I may not get what I want, but I am promised that the Lord will give me what I need:  "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:19) 

Ultimately, my truest and deepest needs, for forgiveness and restoration to God, have already been met through Jesus.  Romans 8:32 says:  "He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?"  The deliverance of my soul has been accomplished, arising from the cross.  I can trust the Lord for everything else, as well.

Missing Jesus

Pretty humbling to have a blog centered on hearing from the Lord and then have no posts for over a month.  Yikes.  Sometimes it's like that, though, at least for me. I'm still reading my Bible and still praying (though I've been missing more days than I like to), but I'm not hearing as clearly as I sometimes do.  When that happens, I try to acknowledge it, bring that concern to God, and just keep walking in obedience the best that I can. 

Last Sunday my pastor at LifeSpring Community Church was talking about Jesus appearing to people after the resurrection.  He was sharing from John 21.  Verse one says that "After this Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, and he revealed himself in this way."  Then, in verse four, we find out that " Just as day was breaking, Jesus stood on the shore; yet the disciples did not know that it was Jesus."

Jesus had already appeared to the disciples about a week earlier, in the upper room (John 20).  He had stood among them, talked to them, shown them the nail holes in His hands and the wound in His side.  Yet, seven days later, the disciples don't recognize Jesus even as they see Him and He speaks to them.  Not until Jesus re-creates a moment from their past (a miraculous catch of fish) does John realize that the man on the shore is Jesus.

I am often comforted by the disciples, because I, too, have seen Jesus at work on one day, and then missed Him just a short time later.  This blog absence when it seems that I am not hearing from the Lord is one such instance.  I know that He is speaking, but somehow I am not hearing His voice.  There are many reasons why I may be hard of hearing. . . sin, impatience, lack of time with God, or an incorrect perspective, just to name a few.  A recent example of the last:  In the past few years I have been braving the dangerous and unsure waters of online dating.  Goal:  a godly husband.  Two years into it:  No husband, thereby causing me to view this venture as unsuccessful and lacking God's blessing.  Revelation upon waking up Saturday morning:  God has blessed this journey mightily, though not in the way that I envisioned.   No, I'm not married yet, but I have met some good men, learned a ton about myself, and had my faith strengthened hugely by having to trust the Lord even more directly in this arena. 

Even as I peer uncertainly from my boat, wondering who that man is on the shore and what he is doing, Jesus is busy directing my net and providing me with exactly the food that I need.  My prayer is that I recognize His hand and hear His voice faster and more clearly every day.

Trusting the Timing

When I get to heaven, I am hoping there will be a chance to see behind the scenes of some of the accounts in the Bible. I have been reading in Genesis, about Joseph, and I really, really wish that I could ask him about those years in prison. We know that he was sent there unjustly, and that "The keeper of the prison paid no attention to anything that was in Joseph's charge, because the LORD was with him. And whatever he did, the LORD made it succeed." (Genesis 39:23). We know that the cupbearer of the Pharaoh was also imprisoned, that Joseph interpreted his dream, and that Joseph said this to the cupbearer: "Only remember me, when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention me to Pharaoh, and so get me out of this house." (Genesis 40:15) We also are privy to the fact that the cupbearer forgot Joseph and didn't remember for two years.

What did Joseph think right after he spoke to the cupbearer?  If he were like me (which he probably wasn't, since he had much more faith than I do, but surely he had his weak moments?), he would have been thinking, "Wow, God, so cool that you sent this cupbearer here, and that I could help him, and that he's going to tell Pharaoh about me, and I'm going to get out of here soon.  Yep, any day now, I'll be free."  And then he waits for two more years.

What's difficult about circumstances like that, at least for me, is to not just rely on the hopeful part of the situation:  "Look at this circumstance.  Surely God heard me and will answer me soon.", but to rely on God's grace for the unspoken (and unthinkable) part:  "Okay, Lord, I think this looks good, but I am going to trust that IF IT DOESN'T WORK OUT WHEN OR HOW I THINK, then that is also the answer from you and it is the better choice."  It's the choice we have after the sixteenth job interview:  "I trust you that if this is your plan, I'll get the job, but if it's NOT, then that is your good work in my life as well."  It's the attitude we choose after another month goes by with no pregnancy, or another date ends with no relationship, or another year passes of estrangement from a loved one.

If I were Joseph, I would think that of course the Lord wants me out of here now.  However, the timing wasn't right yet.  Pharaoh had no need of him.  The circumstances had not yet fallen into place to bring Joseph to a place of leadership so that he could save many lives:  "And God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors."  (Genesis 45:7)

It can be so hard to trust in God's timing, because when we are in the middle of the story, it can feel lonely and sad and pointless.  I so want to know how Joseph handled the two years of waiting in prison.  How long did it take him to rest in God's goodness and trust Him that He would work all circumstances together for good?  How was he able to choose a peaceful and calm attitude, walking in the truth that God was at work even if He was silent?  The irony is that Joseph knew far less of God than I do, and yet came through his circumstances knowing that God had purposefully orchestrated his life.  May I learn to trust as well in the God that I KNOW is at work on my behalf:  

"The Lord will accomplish what concerns me.  The Lord's lovingkindness is everlasting.  Do not forsake the works of your hands."  (Psalm 138:8, NAS)

Look Up

Once again, a concept that I have heard roughly four gazillion times in my Christian walk suddenly becomes clear. This summer I'm doing Beth Moore's "Steppin' Up" study. On week two, day two (and don't panic if you're in the same study--I'm working ahead because I have vacation coming soon), we are looking at Psalm 123:

To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the LORD our God,
till he has mercy upon us.

Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us,
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
Our soul has had more than enough
of the scorn of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.

The very first verse of the psalm talks about lifting our eyes to the Lord. I've heard that so many times: "Keep your eyes on Jesus." "Look at God, not your circumstances." "Where is your focus?" Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I got it. Apparently I didn't.

Beth takes us to Acts 3, the account about the lame beggar (who was healed) that I blogged about a few weeks ago (gotta love God's continuity). The beggar is just hanging out at the gate when Peter and John show up. Acts 3:3 finds Peter telling the beggar to "Look at us", and then in verse five it says that the man "fixed his attention on them. . . ". Here is how Beth described what happened (p. 43 of the "Steppin' Up" study):

"Therefore, he looked, which caused him to more effectively listen, which in turn altered his feelings, manifesting in a change in his expectation. Needless to say, the beggar got far more than he expected, but until he 'Gave them his attention' he had no real expectation of anything out of the ordinary."

She also puts in a little diagram that looks (somewhat) like this:

Where I look----> What I hear ----> What I feel ----> What I expect

Using the diagram sparked my "aha" moment. I put in a circumstance from my own life, online dating (yes, the idea makes me want to run screaming most days, too. Trust me, the reality is sometimes even worse than you imagine.). The gist of the diagram: If I focus on online dating, what I hear is "This isn't working. No one is interested. You're too. . . (old, short, whatever)." What I feel is frustrated, rejected, and discouraged; and what I expect is nothing. However, if I go back and put the Lord in the first slot, well, it all looks SO much better: If I look to God, then what I hear is "I'm here, I'm in control, you belong to me, and I will take care of you." What I feel is secure, safe, and encouraged; and what I expect is that God will do the very best thing for me.

Once again, "Duh!!!!!"

As I was thinking about this further, I tried thinking through other circumstances. No matter what it was, if I take the problem/worry/concern out from in front of my eyes and put the Lord there instead, it helps me to stand in truth, to feel encouraged and hopeful, and to believe that the Lord will work it all for His good. Glad to know that, on the four gazillion and first hearing, I finally get it.

At Just the Right Time

There are moments that I rue the inspiration which named this blog (what WAS I thinking?). It seems that the current theme of my life is waiting. This morning I read the following passage from Acts 3 (verses 1-12):

Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!" And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.
While he clung to Peter and John, all the people, utterly astounded, ran together to them in the portico called Solomon’s. And when Peter saw it he addressed the people: "Men of Israel, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we have made him walk?

This beggar had been lame since birth, and in an instant (when all he was expecting was alms) was healed. How many years had the man been lame? From the time he was born until he was a man, so at least probably 16, 17 years. Years of sitting by the gate, begging. I wonder how many times he had asked God to heal him. Did he still have hope? Or had he given up and accepted his lot in life?

One of the hard things about waiting, which I come back to again and again, is contained within the uncertainty of it. If we know the length of the wait, we can hold on. Or, as with a woman in labor, if we know the happiness that comes at the end of the wait (and that it for sure will end), we can endure not knowing exactly how long it will take. When we are waiting for something that is not guaranteed (a new job, a mate, a pregnancy, healing) and has no set end, well, that's when we doubt and wonder and want to give up. We lose faith that God is paying attention, that He sees us, that He is, indeed, working it all for good.

The man is just laying at the gate. His friends and the whole neighborhood have seen him there for years. They know him. They know that he was born lame and that he can't walk. So when Peter and John, through the power of the Holy Spirit, heal him, there is no doubt. Unlike when we watch some TV show with people throwing away crutches or leaping from wheelchairs and cynically wonder if they were planted in the audience, this Jewish audience had no doubt. They had seen a miracle. The Lord was at work. The people are hanging on the words of Peter. Later, in Acts 4:4, we read:

But many of those who had heard the word believed, and the number of the men came to about five thousand.

FIVE THOUSAND people believed in Jesus after seeing this man healed and hearing the words of Peter. Five thousand. The man had to wait for years and years for healing so that the miracle could happen at just the right moment in time and would lead to an overwhelming number of people coming to know Jesus. If I believed that my waiting had a purpose, maybe a much bigger purpose than I can imagine, would I wait more patiently? More graciously? More easily? Once again, it all comes down to faith to believe God's promises to me, and to being brave enough to hope in His goodness. As I type this, I'm reminded of a song by Addison Road (one of my new favorites): YouTube - Addison road - Hope Now (w/ lyrics)

It always DOES come down to faith, and hope in the character and goodness of God.

Detours

Finished The Land Between, by Jeff Manion today. I recommend it highly. I got the book for Christmas but just "happened" to get it out a few weeks ago and finally start reading it. God's timing is perfect (which is another fact more easily seen in hindsight). The author was talking about detours in our lives, when the road that we thought we were going to follow or the road that we thought we were on suddenly changes. His example is my good buddy Joseph. Over and over in Joseph's experience in Egypt (including while he was in prison), the Bible states that God was with Joseph (Genesis 39:2), and that Joseph prospered. Here are some of Jeff Manion's thoughts (p. 182):

"The reality here can be unsettling. Often God chooses to meet us with his blessing in a place we do not choose to be. He will bless us on the detour. He will bless us in the Land Between. Often the place of blessing is not our place of preference."

I'm single. I've always been single. I never wanted to be single. My vision of my life when I was younger was probably a lot like most people's: Finish college, get married, have children. I remember walking through my college town and seeing the families in their houses and thinking "Someday that will be me." Someday still isn't here. Singleness has been an unplanned and very long detour. Yet, reflecting today, I have been blessed in so many ways: Opportunity, travel, some of the world's best friends. The blessings are deeper than that, however. On page 185, Manion writes:

"What if God desires to be present and faithful on your detour? What if he chooses to make his presence powerfully available when you are in the space you least desire to be--the Land Between?. . .Our longing [to prosper in the place of OUR choosing], however deep, may not change the reality. Sometimes we don't get to choose. But will we open our hearts to God? Will we open our lives to his work and his blessing while we are not where we want to be?"

Joseph never got to go home. God was with him, he prospered, and his family eventually was returned to him, but he never got to return to Canaan. The Israelites took his bones there, but that's the closest he came. I don't control very much of my life at all. I cannot conjure a husband and children out of the dust (I have tried. Doesn't work). It is a painful thing to know that some detours may be permanent. Yet, even with that pain, I can see that the Lord has used this season of singleness to deepen His relationship with me and to grow (slowly) my faith and trust in Him. The biggest blessing that I have in my life is my relationship with Jesus, and much of that was born from the seeking, crying, and wrestling which came about because of the trial of singleness. There are days when my flesh isn't sure that the trade off is worth it. I STILL don't want to be here. However, my choice remains: Will I work with God? Will I open my heart to receive blessings in a place that I never wanted to be? Will I relinquish my dreams and accept the ones the Lord has for me? Some days I choose the right choice, and others I don't. I am thankful that the Lord is patient with me, and that His will is perfect, even when I see it as a detour.

Whose Hand?

Reading now about Gideon. Doubting, fearful Gideon. The Lord tells Gideon that he will deliver Israel from the Midianites, but reduces the force with Gideon from about 22,000 men to 300. The Lord's reason is found in Judges 7:2:

The LORD said to Gideon, "The people with you are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand, lest Israel boast over me, saying, 'My own hand has saved me.'"

This verse makes me think of times in my life where I was struggling with getting close to the Lord and was turning to everyone and everything to try to fix it, but nothing was working. The sources I was turning to weren't bad, just as Gideon's fighting men weren't bad. Some things I was trying were talking to wiser people, reading books, and listening to worship music. Those are all good tactics. However, as much I was seeking the right formula (note: NOT really seeking the Lord as much as a way to succeed at Christianity), none of those things were the magical answer to my problem.

Eventually (And that is a kind word. It took a very long time. Years' worth of time) I have become close to God. Annoyingly, it's so much easier to see clearly how from this side of the situation. As I reflect upon that frustrating time, when I felt like I was failing, that I wasn't doing this faith walk right, that I was missing something important, I can see that I was the problem. . . The Lord, I think, wanted me to be able to look back on that time and see that the Lord's hand and the Lord's hand alone is what "saved me"--what brought me close to Him and gave me any ability to seek Him, hear Him, or see His work. If I had gotten my answer by following some list of five steps, well, then, I could congratulate myself upon successful completion of a program. I could pat myself on the back for my faithful abilities. . . Instead, I marvel at some of the changes in my heart and know beyond any doubt that the Lord did that mysterious work, and it was NOT by my hand.