Be Still?

June 22, 2016 — 2 Comments

“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”(Psalm 46:10).

Whenever I’ve read this verse, (which is usually on a FB graphic or on a coffee mug), I imagine calm seas and peaceful breezes. We often talk about this verse when we need to have rest, quiet places to sit and read the Bible. All of that is fine. God does provide those things sometimes. But I think we’ve got a false impression of what it means to “be still.”

This week I’ve been packing our house. I’ve been trying to plan a 10-yr old’s birthday party. I’ve been juggling house inspectors, repair men, a 3-yr old’s nap, and just hoping to be showered in time for my evening commitments. I’ve been trying to understand inspection reports and book study questions, and applying the meaning of both to the decisions I’ve got to make for my life. I’ve driven to and from a city over 200 miles away in one day, with plans to repeat that trip two more times before move day. And I’ve also been dreaming. And talking. And doing.

Life hasn’t been still…in the slightest definition of the word.

In fact, the picture that comes to mind is the tornado scene in the Wizard of Oz. There I am, like Dorothy, grasping tightly to my bed, watching houses and a poop-emoji-bithday-cake fly past the window. I see boxes and bubble wrap topple and spin through the air. The A/C guy and sprinkler repair man wave at me as they whiz by and toss the bill into my lap. And then the buyers for our house ride by on their bike and cackle through the window, “I’ll get you, my pretty.” (yes, there is a story there).

I think when we read, “Be still and know that I am God…”, we imagine finally landing in a magical land full of color and singing and little people who just want to give us oversized lolly-pops and cheer at our arrival.

But that’s not the way life works.

Being still and knowing that God is GOD is like sitting in the spinning airborne house without fear.

Being still is leaning against the bed and watching in amazement as God does all the work outside the window. The house is still going to shake. There might still be moments when the mayhem induces dizziness and nausea. But in that sepia-colored movie scene, Dorothy sits still as the world spins outside the door.

We are told to be still for one purpose only: To know that God is GOD.

He doesn’t tell us to be still so that we can rest. He doesn’t tell us to be still so that we can have a quiet cup of coffee. He doesn’t tell us to be still so that we can enjoy comfort and earthly stability. He wants us to know that He is God.

And when God shows up, He usually comes in big ways…like burning bushes and trembling ground, crazy whirlwinds of activity and madness. He comes with strength and fury. His Spirit violently blows through communities toppling over idols and uniting hearts to be on His mission. He kicks up the dirt and moves families out of their homes to be closer to those with whom He is asking to do big things. He rattles our hearts with meaningfully deep questions and spurs us into actually engaging with the world around us. That’s not representative of a peaceful river scene on a Christian coffee mug. It’s not easy. It’s not comfortable. It’s not still.

But He tells us to be still enough to look.

He asks us to identify Him in the movement outside our windows, to watch, and KNOW.

He is busy out there. He is busy exalting Himself among the nations, exalting Himself over all the earth. That isn’t accomplished by Him being still or for life’s schedule to be calm and serene.

If He wants the earth to know Him, the world is going to get shook up a little.

Today, I might dare to step outside the spinning house, hold onto the front door posts, and lean into the twister…lean into what He’s got going on out there. If I gain enough courage, I might stick my chin into the wind and let the fierce storm tangle my hair and wet my eyes. I might, just might, embrace the howl of His mysterious work as it whips with sting across my face. Will you come with me?

Let’s get to KNOW Him.

The Waze of Jesus…

April 27, 2016 — Leave a comment

This morning as we left the house for school, I was determined to make it in record time. Due to the recent flooding in our area, our morning commute had increased dramatically. I’ve had the Waze app on my phone for some time now, but have only been using it for trips into downtown Houston, (because attempting to drive into that without help is downright scary).

When I typed in the address of the school, Waze reassured me it could lead us there in 35 minutes. (The day before, it took us an hour and a half). The kids and I laughed.

“Do you think it will work, Mom?”

“If this works, it will be a miracle from Jesus.”, I said.

So off we went.

If you’ve ever used Waze, you soon learn that it requires an incredible amount of trust. It will send you in the opposite direction, down dark alley ways, through someone’s backyard, and then ask you at the drop of a hat to turn around and retrace your tracks. But any user of the app will tell you, “you’ve got to just trust the wisdom of Waze”.

See, the app keeps track of traffic, accidents, inoperable lights…all of it. Plus, it knows how fast you and other Waze users are moving. So, in an instant, it knows when changes occur. Immediately, it calculates when changing your route all together is time-efficient. And sometimes, it sends you in the opposite direction to have you arrive at your final destination faster.

This morning, Waze led us through small winding streets, on the Hwy headed south (when ultimately we wanted to go north), and zig-zagging neighborhoods I didn’t even know existed.

As we turned off one little street onto the next, we suddenly saw it: yard after yard filled with rolled up carpet, dismantled wood flooring, piles of sheetrock, and couches stacked upon one another. Kids were waiting in their front yards for the school bus next to piles of destroyed belongings.

It took us by surprise.

The car fell silent.

All the air was sucked into our lungs by our gasps.

Eventually, someone broke the quiet.

“I wish we could do something.”

Suddenly, our commuting challenges of the past few days didn’t matter. The unacknowledged rains of last night (the ones we slept through), now seemed cruel and senseless.

“Kids, if it hadn’t been for Waze, I wouldn’t have even known this was back here.”

“Maybe Jesus is in Waze, Mom.”

Maybe. I don’t think He is literally living in the phone app. However, I think Jesus absolutely used Waze this morning to guide us down a path of humility, compassion, and gratitude…the ways of Jesus.

As we continued to follow the directions offered by my phone, we saw house after house, family after family in need. We discussed plans to come back after school, maybe toting pizzas, or cleaning supplies, or just prayers and consolation. The kids were no longer arguing about who ate the last breakfast bar or debating whose fault it was that we left 10 minutes late that morning. Our hearts had been shifted. Our perspective had been flipped. My words came back to me: “If this works, it will be a miracle from Jesus.”

Jesus, in all His ways, miraculously turns our selfish hearts outwards towards others. The Holy Spirit guides us down paths previously unseen.

But if we don’t trust Him, in all His seemingly awkward and backwards-pointing directions, we just might miss the opportunity for a dramatic change of heart. We might miss the hurting and the broken. We might miss a whole world of opportunity to serve as the Church.

When we don’t trust His promptings, we find ourselves taking our route back into our own tight-gripped hands, only to be frustratingly locked in a spiritual stand still.

Think of Noah. Think of Jonah. Think of Lot. Think of Jesus! “Go towards the cross…”, even when Jesus asked the Father for a different way.

Lately, I’ve been feeling the prompting of the Holy Spirit to act in specific ways–to head in a specific direction. But I’ve been putting action off, straight-up ignoring His voice, and allowing myself to be distracted by the selfish conveniences of life. Today’s little adventure to school not only filled our car with compassion, launching us into a plan for service, but it also helped fix my eyes on Jesus…His voice, His direction, and His ways.

(And we got to school in 35 minutes.)

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths” (Psalm 25:4).

re-wiring…

December 2, 2014 — 1 Comment

We bought a Christmas Tree.

In the beginning God created it and gave the tree to us for Christmas. It was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of it. And the Spirit of God was hovering over me as I set out to add the lights:

First, the lights from last year didn’t all survive. Of the strands that remained, a few of the bulbs were no longer working, but not enough to make a dramatic effect. So I began weaving the green wires in and out of the branches.

About 1/4 of the way up, I was out of lights.

To the store…

Once home, I opened a fresh new box of 300-count lights, only to realize that the plethora of lights were packed into a mere number of feet. Three green wires were tightly braided together to form an extremely dense cluster of lights. Fearing a return to the store, I untwisted and manipulated the 300. I tucked and stretched. I stepped back to view. Nope. No way. No how. The center of the newly donned tree shone as bright as a burning apartment building, while the lower branches twinkled like stars. I untucked and unstretched. I twisted and manipulated. There was no way these lights were getting back into the box. If only they responded like my son’s tummy when I tell him to “suck it in” to button his pants.

I had to forget the tree for a minute…so I moved on to a new room and found a nice ledge to softly drape my now contorted strand of new Christmas lights. It was pretty. Whew.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.

With morning came another trip to the store after dropping the kids off to school. Promises were made to have the tree ready for decoration when they returned. Three boxes of 150 lights…double checked…no clusters of lights.

When school was out, next to the tree I opened and untied the first bundle of 3. I wove under and over, forward and back. Lots of twinkling sparkles. Beautiful. The first box was a success. I opened and unwrapped the second and went to connect it to the previous strand. NO!!! No outlet. I didn’t buy the lights that connect one strand to the next.

“I am NOT taking these lights off,” I said to myself. I continued with the new box, sneaking the cord to the original source of energy down the trunk of the tree. With what remained, I placed the rest of the lights between arms and fingers of branches. It wasn’t too noticeable. Disaster averted. Onto box three.

I turned to reach for it when I saw that my little helpers had already broken the seal…

Sigh..now to untangle the third strand of lights.

I draped the lights over one child and asked them to follow carefully behind me as we circled the tree with the last set of lights. Again, I threaded the plug down to the outlet first, then climbed the step ladder to start sprucing up the last top third of the tree. Half-way around the whole tree went dark.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the third day.

Back to the floor to find my chaotic daisy chain of plugs and wires. Unplugging and switching order and figuring out which lights or line of lights were the culprit. The section of last year’s lights were to blame. I stripped the bottom rows of branches and pulled and stretched at the new lights to avoid starting the whole process over again. It kind of worked. I figured presents would cover up the bottom anyways…or maybe we’ll go heavy on the ornaments down there.

I headed back to the top untouched portion of the tree and the last bit of lights. Round and round we went until every light was intentionally placed for the best overall effect. You’ve got to be kidding me. About a foot of the tree remained unlit.

I turned to the staircase, where our stockings were hanging, tied over stiff and scraggly garland and one short thin strand of about 50 lights.

With a huff, I forced each tiny bulb under each knot that held each of the 6 stockings.

Back to the ladder, where I just threw the flimsy 4 feet of lights at the peak of the tree, tucked in the ends a little and stepped back to look at the finished tree…FINALLY.

Not too bad, I thought. But now it was entirely too late to start the reminiscing of each homemade ornament as we placed them on the tree. Promises broken.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the fourth day.

Bright and early we woke to head off to school. As the kids made their way down the stairs, I heard while back in my bedroom closet… “What happened to the lights on the tree?”

sigh

And there was evening, and there was morning, the fifth day.

I avoided the tree for nearly half the day. When it finally became apparent to me that I was letting an oversized stick have rule over my day and my joy, I went through the leftover Halloween candy. Yep…didn’t touch that tree. I ate green Twizzlers and a fun-size PayDay instead.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the sixth day.

Surely, I can light this stupid Christmas tree in a week. Today is the day.

After removing 3 strands of lights (I don’t even know where the 3rd came from), buying one more box of 300 (the right kind that connects end to end, and adding an extension cord with multiple outlets, the tree is done. It ain’t perfect, but it’s done.

No lie, when I stepped back and took the final look, the “Alleluia Chorus” came on the Pandora Christmas station. You can’t make that stuff up. Now I’m just praying it doesn’t start an electrical fire between now and Christmas Day.

And on the seventh day I finished my tree that I had lit, and I rested on the seventh day from all the work that I had done.

A whole week was spent unwiring and disconnecting to produce light in a dark place. The analogy is not lost on me. When I am dark in spirit, when my light seems to have fizzled out, it takes time to rewire my heart, to reconnect with the Spirit. It doesn’t take time because the Spirit is slow to react or that I have to wait for the Father to reset His gaze upon me. God never leaves me nor forsakes me. Rather it is I, the twisted and confused amidst the prickly needles of this world. Because I am slow, because I have to reset my eyes to Jesus, it takes time– intentional time in quiet and still places. Again, I am reminded that this is Life After Rehab. When the temptations of relapse make everything a blur, I, like the addict, have to step back and re-evaluate where I am vulnerable and weak.

Back in the series of posts: 7 steps for Life After Rehab, I addressed all of the things that I already have forgotten. Step 7 was “Stay alert for signs of a relapse”…yeah, that would have been a good one to remember. I haven’t been alert, as evidenced by buying the wrong kind of lights…twice.

I rewire with a heart of thankfulness and gratitude. I reconnect with quiet time in the Word and in prayer, becoming comfortable to sit still and just listen to Him…scary as it may be. I am relit by all of His blessings and all the ways He loves me. I am recharged by His words of love and forgiveness for me.

“For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”

2 Corinthians 4:15-17

blog post…check

October 13, 2014 — 4 Comments

The rain dances off the shingled roof while shouts of laughter and giggles of delight bounce back and forth. I sit in the coziness of my kitchen with my smoked berry and incense candle setting the mood. What a calm Columbus Day home from school. With the showers and dark clouds comes the dawning of Fall. (Or at least I hope cooler weather is on the horizon.)

Autumn is my favorite season, with all it’s tastes and scents. Whether it’s walking into the grocery store and smelling the cinnamon pine cones, or sitting in a Starbucks with a spiced pumpkin latte, once October hits, the aroma and palette of fall is hard to escape.

This morning I thought, I really should write a blog post today. We are coming off a full and long weekend and though I should write, all I want to do today is sit with my coffee in front of the panes of glass and watch my children soak up the drops of joy falling from the sky…that, or take a nap. I had to run a quick trip to the store earlier this morning for some basics as I was praying, “What do I even write about today? I got nothin’, Lord.” Then I realized I completely drove past HEB, as if headed to school on a non-holiday Monday. I was already sitting at the next stop light.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit I’ve done this before. I’ve been deep in thought, distracted by squabbling kids in the back seat, or simply so exhausted that I miss my turn, pass my exit, or even drive past my own house, especially if it is a non-routine stop. I hope some of you can identify with this…

As I sat at the red left-turn-only light, waiting to make my u-turn back to the store, I prayed again, “What do I even write about today? I’m too tired to think, too tired to process, too tired to listen.”

Yep, there it is. A clear word from the Lord. Here we go:

How many times have I been too tired, too fatigued, too apathetic to listen to God? (More times than I can count or realize, I suppose.) Our pace of American life lulls us into such monotony of routine that we drive right past the urgings of God. When His Spirit speaks something that is outside the set boundaries of our schedules or beyond the lists of to-dos, we can sleep-walk ourselves past doors of opportunity.

Wake UP! God is telling us, “WAKE UP!” I have let my new-found awareness and ear (albeit still being fine-tuned) go…to…sleep. Are you awake??

I know what it is to be so exhausted that eyelids succumb to the laws of gravity, even in the midst of conversation. I get it. I know it. I am in that very state right now. But I am called to WAKE UP! I either need to make the necessary changes to not be so dang tired or I have to get over the sleepiness and force myself to be aware in the midst of fatigue. Perhaps the solution requires a little of both.

There are values in our culture that oppose rest, that break the 4th commandment. It’s admirable to work overtime. We boast of our busyness. Think about that for a minute. Our sins are all equal in the sight of God. Every sin, whether “big” or “small” (as deemed by our society) leads to death. So are we willing to take murder with the same degree of self-righteous excuse as we do working on the Sabbath? What if we murdered for the sake of an extra days worth of salary? What if we murdered for the sake of ministry? Yeah, I went there… How unsettling if we boasted of our killing? If we boasted for killing innocent people for the “sake of the Gospel?”

Our disregard for the Sabbath, using the excuse of “ministry” as justification, is no less a sin than the genocide of populations during the crusades.

Jesus healed on the Sabbath, yes. But Jesus also withdrew from the crowds and rested. We have to rest. We have to take rest seriously. We have to regard the commandment to honor the Sabbath with the same conviction as we do the other 9 on the list. What good is a half-eyed “christian” zombie who is too tired to hear the Spirit? It sure doesn’t make the truth of “Jesus in me” very convincing to others, when I am too tired to listen to Him and to bear His fruits of joy, peace, and patience. Why would anyone want what I have? It looks and feels miserable.

Jesus, forgive me for not taking rest seriously. Forgive me for not taking care of the body you have given me. Forgive me for letting my lack of rest inhibit me from following You. Forgive me for selfishly pursuing works instead of pursuing You. Forgive me for misrepresenting the new life and joy you offer in the presence of others who have yet to taste it.

Jesus, thank you for covering me in grace and giving me new life regardless of my performance. I am made new, daily.

Adequate rest is only half of my issue. When I am fatigued (and it’s bound to happen regardless of good Sabbath habits, because I’m only human), I am still called to wake up. In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asked his disciples to stay alert and pray…and they couldn’t keep their eyelids peeled. Twice He pleaded for their attention and twice they fell victim to slumber. “And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:40-41). The Spirit is right there, willing to reveal to me all manner of amazing gifts and revelations, but my flesh has been entirely weak.

Jesus pleads for our attention. He desires our alertness to His words, to His Spirit. If we are walking through life on auto-pilot, we miss His very voice and all that He has to offer us. He sings songs over us. He speaks truth to us. He reminds us of our beauty, our inheritance, our value, and our worth. These are reminders I need daily. I’m so ashamed that I don’t pay attention to these messages that I desperately need. I can’t believe that I own lies of value and worth that are contrary to what He says about me, yet His sweet words are ever-present for me. The Spirit’s fragrance and taste is all around me, just like Fall and it’s hard to escape. Yet, I have found a way to bypass it all.

Jesus, forgive me for falling asleep to Your voice. Forgive me for coasting through the day to day, unaware of the destinations to which I’ve been blind and the reminders of your truth.

I receive the clean slate you give me and honed-in ears to start afresh.

2 Timothy 2:13 says, “if we are faithless, he remains faithful— for he cannot deny himself.” For that, I am truly thankful. My list may not be totally completed at today’s end, but at least I heard Him say, “I will be faithful to you.”

Today I am tired, but not alone. My list of to-dos fills an entire 8 1/2 x 11 page of lined notebook paper. About half-way down the list is: write blog post. Listening to God doesn’t mean I’m irresponsible with my daily duties. When I listen to Him, He walks alongside me and makes the stuff happen, infusing each task with His fragrance of joy and lightness of heart. It’s the cinnamon and cardamon added to the everyday cup of joe. The ordinary becomes enraptured with His presence. With Him living in me, I can be tired, joyful, productive, and attentive all at the same time.

I have tried in the few hours of sitting in front of the screen to listen to God, even through my fatigue, even through trying to complete my writing task, and even with the other 15 things on my list looming in the back of my mind. This morning, I went on a journey to write a blog post. But I listened and stopped along the way, guided to pitstops and destinations that were not in my plan. Here’s what happened:

– I watched the rain fall.

– I closed my eyes and opened my ears to the sounds of my children’s laughter.

– I laughed over the top of the laptop as I witnessed four kids battle one dog to a bath–in the rain.

– I embraced muddy feet.

– I happily scratched off the list…

~~give the dog a bath~~

– I stopped typing to take pictures of siblings hugging in the open grass midst a thunderstorm. – I savored my creamer-enhanced coffee as I sat waiting for the electricity to come back on.

-I stopped typing again to tickle a half-naked, wet, and muddy toddler boy.

-I pondered my rest and lack thereof…then prayed for forgiveness.

-I meditated on grace.

-I paused to fill a bathtub with soapy warm foam for cold little bodies.

-I tossed soggy clothes into the washing machine, counting the blessings of modern technology.

– I marked off…

do a load of laundry

– I wrapped little boys in fluffy dry towels and kissed their tender noses.

– I happily elongated the chase of a naked bathroom escapee, and marveled at his laughter, picking up random toys on the floor along the way.

– I grabbed the pencil…

~~bathe kids~~

~~pick up clutter~~

-I returned to the keyboard and gave thanks for fresh ears and propped-open eyes.

– I heated hotdogs for lunch and threw some ingredients into the crockpot.

– I drew a line through:

~~start dinner~~

– I snuggled my baby close, singing a lullaby, then laid him sleepy-eyed into his crib for an afternoon respite.

– I sat for a final session at the computer and listened. I recounted all that Jesus had for my tired soul in one short morning…

~~write blog-post~~

Total eclipse of the heart…

October 8, 2014 — 1 Comment

“I’m learning a lot about God from my kids.” I think every Jesus-following parent says it at least once. It is true. Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18: 3-4).

This morning when darkness still loomed over the house, I rose to my oldest daughter already awake. She had set her alarm for 5 AM so as to not miss the much anticipated lunar eclipse. It was supposed to be first visible at 5:25 AM, but in an effort to not miss any of it, she was awake nearly a half hour early. The rest of the family wasn’t that interested in the phenomenon, so she planned her rising all on her own. She could hardly sleep last night, so it was not a surprise to me that she was already awake when my alarm went off at 6. The time she chose to wake up did not startle me. What did shock me was the place she chose to watch.

I assumed that she would venture out on the front driveway or walkway and peer into the moon-lit sky. I figured she’d take it in for a minute, get tired, and head back to bed. But, no, my child knew better than me…

She pulled a chair and pillow from the living room over to the front door. She made herself comfortable and sat, marveling at the moon through the glass insets. Any reasonable adult would say that chair was an annoyance and was placed in a dangerous spot, in the line of doorway traffic. But it was the perfect venue to focus on something almost magical, something that my mature brain can’t wrap my mind around. The sun, which we can’t see at night-time is yet right behind us–behind her in that chair. Its strong rays of sunlight reflecting over our heads on the surface of the moon millions of miles away. The earth, on which we stand, on which she sat in that chair, mysteriously floating in the space in between. The orbits of the moon and the earth in such synchronization and alinement that before her very eyes, the shadow of earth, orb on which she sat in that chair, appeared before her over the face of the moon–it’s light slowly burning red. What an amazing event that is so much grander and substantial than a walkway ridden with chair.

As we went on with our day and I returned home from morning errands, I saw the chair unmoved from the wee hours of dawn. The sunlight, now cascading through the windows bore such sweet light on that seat, on that place of tiny miracle.

My daughter has taught me something today. I have learned, and have been told over and over again, that I need to sit and marvel at God. Others may be annoyed with me. Others may think I am in the way. My resolve to sit and take in Jesus as I see Him throughout the day may irritate those who think it odd and silly. Some might deep down feel the sting of resentment that I have gone to such measures to encounter God. But I long to be like the carefree and uninhibited children. I no longer want to be an adult with to-do lists, logical answers, and cynicism. Jesus, teach me, like you taught the disciples, to humble myself, turn, and become like the child.

I have for far too long walked with the shadow of reason and logic hiding my heart from the everyday glory of Jesus. How can I follow His Spirit, if I shield my eyes from seeing Him? How can I soak in His words and ponder His parables if I block my ears from hearing Him? How can I sense His presence and act on His urgings if I cover-up my feelings with puffed up arrogance and pride? I, and most “Christians”, have been walking around in a “total eclipse of the heart” religion. We have covered ourselves with our performance and success, rather than being “hidden in Christ” (Col. 3:3), reflecting His glory, not our own.

Last night, my eleven-year-old delighted in asking questions of astronomy and selenology, of the heavens and their movement, just in anticipation for what she hoped to see. She didn’t presume to have all the answers. Her eyes doubled in fascination with the size and wonder of it all, even before witnessing. Are we adults even asking questions anymore? Do we think we have it all figured out? The mysteries of Jesus are beyond any human mind. His wisdom and knowledge deep. We will never exhaust all that He has for us. How boring and mundane to be the one who has forgotten this simple truth! What a dull and joyless, responsibility-driven, task-filled adult life! We need not live this way. He wants us to have life to the fullest, to marvel at His love and His Spirit, to wait in eager anticipation for just a glimpse of Him.

The chair will remain in it’s new home today. I want to be reminded to seek out all of the wonder and joy Jesus has for me. Even amidst my daily work, I will pass by and catch a glimpse of the Spirit’s reminder to me. He loves me so well to know that I need reminders and nudges. He understands my failing heart and fleeting zeal because undoubtedly, I will trip over it at some point. Thank you, Jesus, for telling me again.

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