Hope

Sometimes there are seasons that feel dark and heavy, when the journey toward wholeness feels like a battle. You look around and ask, "Is there ever going to be a day that is easier than this?" 

Parenting challenges seem endless, anxiety drains you mentally, marriage road bumps leave minor injuries, responsibilities pile up to overwhelming heights, past experiences pop up in unhealthy ways, traumatic events happen...and you spend all of your time feeling like you're desperately trying to learn all the right strokes necessary to swim out of the deep ocean waters, while at the same time just trying not to succumb to the waves. It's exhausting and terrifying.

It's ironic, or perhaps it only feels ironic and is simply just the nature of spiritual truth, that into a season such as this Jesus speaks to me of hope. I started contemplating hope throughout Advent and asking myself questions like, what is hope? What is false hope and what is real hope? Where is hope when rescue doesn't seem imminent or when rescue doesn't look like I think it should? What does hope look like lived out on a daily basis?

So I find myself in a season of thinking and asking and wondering about hope in the face of trials. Advent and then Lent lend themselves to these questions so well and I have felt God leading me on this learning journey. The history of God's people and the life of Jesus himself have followed an untraditional path of hope. There are answers and comfort in this truth but, still, I find myself asking God what that looks like specifically in my relationships, in my work, in my pain.

God keeps directing me to Romans 15:13, which says "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."

So this is all that I know so far....

God is the God of hope.  

He is the source and creator. 

Real hope can only be given to us from God. 

It's byproducts are joy and peace. 

Being filled with hope (and joy and peace) comes as we trust in him. 

It is actually possible to overflow with hope, but only by the power of the Holy Spirit.

I'm understanding that mostly my ideas about hope tend to be built on my trust in things of this world--answers or strategies that bring relief. It's easy to feel that kind of hope and it's also easy for it to be ripped away. But that's not the hope Romans 15:13 talks about. In fact, the beginning of that chapter talks about god giving us encouragement and endurance in the face of challenging situations through Jesus...who IS hope.

The fact is, when the swells of trials threaten to take us under, sometimes Jesus grabs a life preserver and threads us through that hole and we feel immediate relief.  But other times, Jesus holds us steady, his arms on our arms, as he shows us the shape of the strokes toward land. The relief in these seasons comes when we can breathe through the panic and remind ourselves whose arms are around us and whose instruction we can trust. We still have to do the work to trust and obey. We still have to tread water and learn the strokes. When the exhaustion hits, we still have to remind ourselves that Jesus is near. When we suddenly panic and forget something we've learned, we have to remember to turn toward Jesus and ask him to show us again.

I'm trying to retrain my brain to see hope as a person. I'm working to remind myself to look into the face of hope, instead of the waves. When I do, inevitably I find moments of joy and peace.

Yesterday, I felt like God gave me a moment of perspective in an area I've felt a particular burden of effort lately. He held my head up out of the waves so I would notice the rays of sun shining down. It was as if he was saying, "Look, all the work we're doing isn't in vain." Just for a minute I was able to stop swimming and take a deep breath and be encouraged, and it felt...good. Like a little breath of peace. 

Later we went on a wandering hike as a family and my kids all picked tiny handfuls of wildflowers for me. A little breath of joy. 

Maybe I can't entirely discount the circumstantial things that bring hope in difficult moments either, but the shift in perspective is that the hard things and the good things are experienced with Jesus, who is my hope. Whether he's pulling me out of the waves, helping me swim through the currents, or holding me still long enough to feel a ray of sun on my face, he is the hope that I cling to.

It's a work in progress, but today I'm looking at my little handful of flowers and remembering that Jesus is the giver of good gifts and encouraging words, the strength to endure the storm, and the hope in which I choose to trust.

What that looks like tomorrow? I don't know. But I know Jesus--the Hope--will be there with me and we can figure it out.

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,

    and in his word I put my hope.

 I wait for the Lord

    more than watchmen wait for the morning,

    more than watchmen wait for the morning. Psalm 130: 5-6

He Restores My Soul: Part 3

Read Part 1  |  Part 2

You know what makes me stay up at night? (Well, aside from my worst-case-scenario anxiety, desperate need for alone time, and good books.) What keeps me awake is the desire to make a difference. I want to believe that by working and reworking I can create something that changes things.

It’s a desire that is core to my personality, but it’s a desire that has also fueled my doing tendencies. It can turn that passion into frantic, required motion meant to prove and accomplish.

The chorus of the song by Sleeping At Last I quoted in part 2 says:

I, I wanna sing a song worth singing
I'll write an anthem worth repeating
I, I wanna feel the transformation
A melody of reformation

When I first heard that chorus I ached with sympathy. Yes! I know that feeling. I want so desperately to know that what I do will be worthy and worthwhile. It’s what motivates me to perfect things, to keep going when other people give up.

But in his beautiful and uncomfortable way this year, the Lord brought me back to Psalm 23 when I heard another song several weeks later. Internally the Spirit pointed directly back to the previous song while I was singing:

Let the King of my heart
Be the mountain where I run
The fountain I drink from
Oh, He is my song
Let the King of my heart
Be the shadow where I hide
The ransom for my life
Oh, He is my song

(King of My Heart)

The song that’s worth singing is Jesus. The anthem worth repeating is Jesus. The melody of reformation is Jesus.

The story isn’t really about the sheep and our clumsy adventures. The story is about the Shepherd. And what a Good Shepherd he is.

If I stick close to the Shepherd, he’ll lead me into paths of righteousness…paths that bring reformation and transformation.

The worth-earner in me is tempted to feel desperate and demotivated by this revelation. Like, what am I supposed to do now? I could literally sit and do nothing and still receive God’s love and grace. But of course, accepting unconditional love makes you want to reciprocate. In that way “doing” isn’t something that is required of me to measure up, it’s a gift I can give back. When the gift is something you know the recipient will love, it’s a joy to give—it’s restorative and replenishing.

So I’m going to keep trying to be a sheep that knows I’m loved and to follow the Shepherd and I’ll keep you posted.

He Restores My Soul: Part 2

Read Part 1

There’s a song by Sleeping At Last that says:

The list goes on forever
Of all the ways I could be better
In my mind
As if I could earn God's favor given time
Or at least "congratulations"

Now I have learned my lesson
The price of this so-called perfection
Is everything
I've spent my whole life searching desperately
To find out that grace requires nothing of me

Grace requires nothing of me. Gut punch.

As I’ve been really honest with myself, I fear that God is like every other area of my life and relationships and I need to try to be worthy, I need to have done the right thing to get his favor. And if I can’t get his full favor at least I might be able to earn a “congratulations.”

Maybe I can’t truly be loved, but I can at least be respected for a job well done and that can almost be enough, right? You know what the price of that kind of thinking is? Everything. It’s cost me relationships. It’s cost me sanity. It’s cost me peace.

This song settled in my soul and has walked me through Psalm 23:1-3 by the hand of grace. I don’t have to DO anything to receive God’s grace. I know that, but I have the hardest time really believing it. I’m working on believing it now.

The work I’m doing this year, my job as it were, is accepting. It’s a terribly vulnerable job, to just sit with arms outstretched and dare to hope that I can receive just because I am who I am and God is who he is.

I can be a stupid sheep, sitting on my wooly butt, and still have the Shepherd's love and favor. I can wander away and fall off a cliff and his opinion of me won’t change. That really makes my eye twitch.

But you know what? It’s also been a little bit delicious.

Instead of feeling like I need to “do” to walk with the Lord this year I’ve started just trying to be. I’m trying to embrace the fact that my spiritual self is not made up of a check list and progression chart. Part of finding restoration of the soul is acknowledging who God made me to be, who he delights in, and accept enough grace to just BE that.

I’ve found green pastures in late night fiction reading. I’ve found still waters in an obsessive and fascinating research project. I’ve found plenty when I’ve decided to say no. I’ve found freedom in my soul when I’ve relinquished control. I’ve been restored when I sit quietly and listen.

Grace requires nothing of me.

Read Part 3

He Restores My Soul: Part 1

For the past few years I’ve prayed for, and received, a spiritual theme for the year. Usually it’s an idea that’s crystallized before the new year, I feel like I have a handle on its potential impact and then I write about it. It feels neat and tidy and I just unpack the outline throughout the timeline.

This year, it didn’t come to me until several weeks into the year, and I’ve felt like it is a message, a work in me, that is still so much in process that I haven’t quite known what to say about it. Here we are six months later and I feel like I’m just now beginning to put words to what is happening in my soul.

I think it is a profound shift for my life. One that will take a lifetime to grow into and one that humorously has required the least “doing” of my entire life—humorously, because I am a doer. I do the heck out of things. I earn every ounce of my self-worth and relational respect by doing the right things the right way, so in some ways, I felt a little gipped out of a job. And yet, I also felt hope of relief.

This year my theme is Psalm 23:1-3: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

As a tired, over-extroverted, over-scheduled mom, the initial appeal of these verses was the imagery of rest. How amazing it sounded to lie down in cool green pastures instead of having to move a pile of laundry just to lie down in sheets that hadn’t been laundered in far too long, only to have someone yell for you to get up and wipe their butt. How refreshing it would be to be led to a source of life instead of feeling the pressure to lead everyone else in life.

A little rest, a little fantasizing about being a sheep without responsibilities and voila—my soul would be restored.

How I underestimated this year’s journey.

Read Part 2

Introverted and Extroverted He Created Them

God created mankind in his own image...Introverted and Extroverted he created them. 

OK that's not exactly what Genesis 1.27 says, but the sentiment is true nonetheless. 

Sometimes I hear the word "Introvert" used as a dirty word, a term for everything Extroverted culture doesn't understand or value. It's a prejudice that can create shame for Introverts and it fails to recognize the fullness of God's image. Introverts are not crippled Extroverts. We are an intentional part of the full breadth of God's image.

We don't dislike people. We don't avoid hard things. We don't flee from meaningful exchanges. We don't wish we were Extroverts--except maybe when we're at a party where we have to network.

We contribute stillness in a world of frenzy. We offer a listening ear when others are speaking. We engage in reflection in the face of impulsiveness. 

Being Introverted or Extroverted, technically speaking, has to do with where we draw our energy. Introverts gain energy from the inside and Extroverts gain energy from the outside. One is made to set ablaze from a spark in the quiet and the other to pour forth the power taken in from a waterfall. There are distinct differences in the way we engage with the world, build relationships, communicate, recharge, and what strengths we bring to the table. But, God can be seen in both...he is a still small voice speaking intimately to one and he is a pillar of light to a multitude. 

Sometimes we, as the Church, label personality traits as Christian character. Being joyful must mean being a bubbly, smiley person, right? Sharing the Gospel looks like engaging as many people in a day as possible, right? Living in Christian fellowship means being talkative and always engaging others, right? Worshiping God looks like demonstrative passion, right?

Yes! And...joy looks like a determined smile, evangelism is a slow build through relationship, fellowship is a deep one-on-one conversation, worship is being awed into silence before God Almighty.

Introverts and Extroverts will serve differently. We will fellowship differently. We will engage in spiritual growth differently. Yet it is these differences that will carry out the Great Commission with depth and breadth.

It is only together that we can more fully reflect God's image. What beautiful things we can learn from one another, what fantastic gifts we can give to one another, and what a full mission we can accomplish if given the freedom to celebrate the uniqueness we bring to the table in the context of One Body. 

My Favorite Place

There's just something about the ocean. It's the way the sky reaches down into the water, the horizon an infinity of blue and the sun winking back at itself a thousand times.

The waves whisper of a power held back and I marvel that this rippling expanse is but a rain drop in God's hand.

The salt of the ocean visits with each breath of wind, blowing back the intensity of the sun's touch.

It is my favorite place.

The feel of it. The view of it. The sound of it.

Palm fronds dance overhead to their own musical rattling and it makes me smile.

I feel perfectly empty and full, taking in the way God seems to say something in each little detail.

God is Not Overwhelmed

There was a moment last month when I was feeling stretched beyond what was comfortable; I was squeezing out a "Yes" to the Lord when everything inside me was saturated with fear and self-interest. I text a friend about how overwhelming it all felt, as we waited for the response to our "Yes."

Embedded in her reply I read the words "God is not overwhelmed." 

The squirming panic inside me took notice of those words. Their truth washed over me and calmed me. Suddenly this difficult, overwhelming thing had a champion whose hands hold the universe and whose might and wisdom never fail. This situation didn't take him by surprise. He saw the path before us and went even before our "Yes" to make a way. Slowly I let in the courage to lay down more of myself and trust him to walk beside me. 

Then, even more quickly than the situation had surfaced, it disappeared, but the "Yes" has remained. God used it to push back the encroaching tide of self-interest and leave space for new opportunities to trust him.

Since that day the words "God is not overwhelmed" have resurfaced again and again in my mind. The last few years the Lord has given me phrases and verses to focus my year around (2016, 2017), so this year I am claiming the truth and the promise of "God is not overwhelmed" along with Isaiah 40.28, which says, "Do you not know? Have you not heard? the Lord is an eternal God, the creator of the whole earth. He does not get tired or weary. There is no limit to His wisdom."

Admittedly it doesn't take a giant, life-altering situation to plunge me into the deep waters of life, overwhelming me with how impossible it feels to keep my head above water. More often than not, the day-to-day can feel more overwhelming than the occasional monumental issues. And the fact is, that it actually is impossible, save for the rescuing hand of Jesus, who never succumbs to the waves, whose feet can walk on the surface of the deep, whose hands created and hold it all. 

Today God is not overwhelmed. Tomorrow's troubles won't leave him tired and weary. Even the rest of the days of the year can't find the end of his wisdom.