I'll Have What She's Having

We sat in a circle, talking about repentance and freedom and deliverance and victory. What does it mean? What does it look like? And one question kept coming up, “How? How does this happen … and how can this happen to me?!”

We tossed around thoughts and a few personal stories. We looked up scripture. Then one friend shared her experiences.

It was the kind of testimony shared with fellow sojourners, not casual seekers. She talked about intensely difficult struggles, about shattered expectations and disappointments so great they took her breath away—and knocked her to her knees, literally. As the storms raged, she went to her Lord. In sorrow she prayed. In anger she prayed. Through tears she prayed. Through confusion she prayed. With love, she prayed. With gut-wrenching honesty she prayed.

Through days and months and years, she brought her broken parts to the cross. To Jesus. She’d give and He’d take away.

Did He make the storm stop or give the answers she sought? An outsider might look at the evidence and say, “No.” But as we listen we know differently. Jesus might not have changed her circumstances, but He changed her heart. The more of it she gave, the more of it He transformed. Her spirit shines so radiantly that everyone sees the light within.

As she spoke, it struck me—this is what faith looks like. The persistent, passionate, pursuit of our Savior. The willingness to trust, regardless of the outcome. The courage to come with open hands and let go of whatever holds her back, no matter how precious it is. The desperate need for divine sustenance. The humility to realize when she’s getting in the way of God’s doing … again.

Surely this is why she has a faith we admire, and has experienced deliverance again and again.

Looking at my friend’s walk with Jesus, I think about the line from When Harry Met Sally, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

I’m tired of the status quo in my faith. I’m tired of believing the lies of the enemy. I want the kind of deliverance that Jesus promises in the Bible—not as an eventual victory in eternity, but as a here and now reality. I want to walk in the power of the Spirit and be used by the Lord to do great things for His kingdom. I want to get out of my own way and stop tripping myself up before I even get started.

How about you? So many women I’ve met through the years want a deeper faith. They want to forgive or change or heal or experience intimacy with God. But they are stuck and discouraged.

Jesus didn’t walk this earth and die on the cross for us to live this way. He says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10)

So what’s the difference between us (or at least me) and my friend? I’ll tell you one thing is clear. She approaches her faith like an athlete in training. Disciplined, obedient, committed, passionate. She puts in the time, works through the pain, looks to improve and stays singularly focused on the goal—Jesus.

If you, like me, want to experience the abundant life that Jesus promises. Here are some bad habits I’ve observed that WON’T get you there:

• Just going to church on Sunday and spending a few minutes every day reading devotions
• Holding Jesus as arms’ length
• Adding faith as a hobby or an accessory to life
• Not reading the Bible
• Sitting back and hoping for the best
• Dictating the outcome
• Giving Jesus your leftover time and money
• Thinking, “I’m not that bad”

As the author of Hebrews tells us,

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (12:1-3)

Paul instructs, “Run in such a way as to win the race.” Win the race. Not participate in, observe or dabble in.

Run.To. Win.

Where are you in the race?

Shaken to the Core

This devotion is running today on Internet Cafe Devotions. 

On January 12, 2010 the foundations of the earth shook as a 7.0 magnitude earthquake struck Haiti.

The already-poorest-country in the Western hemisphere suffered unthinkable destruction. News reports confirmed the ruin, chaos, grief, tragedy. By all accounts Haiti was devastated. Period.

Did you know earthquakes foreshadowed major plot shifts in the Bible?

• Before Moses received the Ten Commandments, “the mountain trembled violently.”
• When Jesus was crucified and took his last breath, “the earth shook.” 
• When the angel rolled the stone away from the tomb, “there was a violent earthquake.” 
• When Paul and Silas sang hymns in prison, “there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken.” 

I imagine the witnesses focused on the chaos, shock and ruin of the earthquakes. But knowing what came next, I hear God saying, “Don’t focus on the shaking earth and get stuck there! Look at me. Watch what I’m going to do!” I’m giving you The Law. I’m overcoming death. I’m giving you eternal life. I’m building my church.

The earthquakes weren’t the end of the story; they were the beginning. It’s been said, “Don’t put a period where God intends a comma.”

In the two years since the earthquake in Haiti, futility, hopelessness and despair abound. Each news report draws circles around the period at the end of the story called Haiti.

But God.

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging." (Psalm 46:1-3) 

The earthquake drew me to Haiti to work with the Foundation for Peace. Relief has turned into rebuilding and ongoing care.

During each visit to Haiti I see momentum building and the story growing. I hear God saying, “Don’t focus on the shaken earth and get stuck there! Look at me. Watch what I’m doing!”  

Newly rebuilt boats ready for fishing.

Recently I received an update on the work FFP had been doing since my team’s departure in March. They:

• Distributed shoes to children and Bibles to adults in a poor village, and they helped rebuild the village’s three fishing boats. 
• Finished building a house for a woman and her children who’d been living under sheets. 
• Held a worship service where a voodoo priest and his family gave their lives to Jesus. (It took an hour to burn all of his voodoo trinkets.) 
• Continued to build the vocational school started last year—the only school of its kind in the region. 

God is telling a story of glory in Haiti.

In our own lives earthquakes will happen. Natural disasters. Death. Divorce. Cancer. Financial woes. Heartbreak. Our foundations will be shaken to their core.

But God says, “Be still…” Relax. Pause. Add a comma. “…and know…” Experience for yourself. Take my truth into your soul. Turn toward me. “…that I am God.” Your refuge and strength. Your ever-present help in trouble. Your fortress and deliverer.

Has your foundation been shaken? Is God calling you to "Be still, and know…?" Where is He writing a story of glory in your life?


If you'd like to learn more about Foundation for Peace and the work they do, and even join an upcoming trip, click here.

Gym Time and Jesus

I wrote this for Internet Cafe Devotions last month and thought I'd share here.

I love Thursday morning spin class at my gym. It’s intense, sweaty and leaves me feeling exhausted in a great way.

A spin bike is stationary, of course. So no matter how hard you pedal, the bike remains in exactly the same place. Yet, every week my competitive streak flares and I try not just to survive spin class, but to “win” it. Throughout the class I compare my perceived effort to others. I try to keep my gear and cadence above what the instructor calls out. And I glance at the digital displays on the bikes of nearby riders to see if my “numbers” are better than theirs.

Recently my bike was “tighter” than usual and during the class I struggled to reach even the lowest gear range the instructor called out. I looked at my fellow pedalers.  

They’re doing it, why can’t I?

My heart pounded. Sweat flowed off my forehead and down my back. Yet, I felt discouraged. At the end of the class my body said, “Wow, tough workout!” But my mind said, “You’re weak—loser!”

The next week, the bike I chose shifted easily. Throughout class, instead of lagging behind, I stayed several gears ahead. A quick glance around the room confirmed, Yep, you’re beating them! My adrenaline pumped and I finished class feeling victorious. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t as fatigued as usual, or that the victory came on an “easy” bike—I “won” spin class.

Letting a fickle machine and the perceived performance of strangers validate and invalidate my results is silly of course. But my competitive nature can be my fatal flaw: I constantly compare myself to those around me—and use them as my barometer. When tail winds of affirmations, praise and success make the ride easy, I feel great…and worthy. When the head winds of rejection, stress and failure press me back, my spirits sink. Up and down goes my self-esteem.

All around us, every single day, the mirrors of life reflect who we are, what we’re worth and where we fit in. They label us (and we label ourselves) by what is seen: Popular, smart, beautiful, talented, winner … Weak, rejected, fat, stupid, loser.
How this must grieve our Savior. That we believe these fickle, flawed labels instead of the heavenly ones He so preciously obtained for us:

Forgiven … worthy … accepted … known … victorious … redeemed ...

His Word shatters false labels and shows us our true reflection. “If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” (John 15:9,19)

One day I hope this amazing truth permeates into the center of my being, because isn't the greatest victory to truly know and accept the love God has for us? To that end, I pray as David did:

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139: 23-24)

I’m still going to try to "win" spin class, but there's only one label I want to wear as a crown of victory ... beloved.

I Love You Not

I have a confession to make.

I have hate in my heart.

 For years I’ve tried to overcome—to be the better person. I’ve tried ignoring. I’ve tried accepting.

See … me and this machine … we’re in a battle. It's game on.

My emotions are so raw that writing this makes my pulse quicken and my insides tighten. Oh, the ill will I direct its way. The thoughts of its demise I imagine. It's stolen the joy from a household chore I actually like!

I think it knows my contempt and is out to break me. The wretched thing is a beast. It’s cumbersome and clunky. The self-propelling quit long ago and I have to drag it across the carpet. It’s built for someone six inches shorter, so I end up with a backache from stooping. The handle digs into my hands. And the motor roars like a jet taking off.

Just about every cap, cover, filter and extra part has cracked, broken or fallen off. The electric cord has 36 gouges in it from being run over. The housing is littered with paint marks from being run into doorways and furniture—and from falling down the steps several times.

You know what really ticks me off? What keeps me from opening the front door and hurling it into the front yard every time I use it? As much as I loathe admitting this, it vacuums really well. Dirt and dog hair are no match for its suction. My practical side won't let me buy a new one.

That leaves us in a standoff … me and this machine. I keep hoping it will suffer a fatal wound—like electrocution. Yet, it refuses to quit. How many favored appliances have headed to appliance heaven well before their time?! This monster won’t die. Seriously, it could take on a Timex.

So, the hate grows and the battle ensues.

I set my sights on a glimmer of hope in the distance. My birthday, anniversary and Mother’s Day are coming up. The trifecta of gift giving. Oh, how a girl can wish.

Dan … hello? Are you listening?

A Wretch Like Me

For reasons I've yet to logically explain, God's led me to some places that are way outside my ordinary—like prison. Here I've met people I may have crossed the street to avoid, looked down on in judgement or never even encountered. Yet here I also meet people whose transformed lives show me the incredible, indescribable, incomprehensible love of Jesus whose amazing grace sets us free—ALL of us. Today at Internet Cafe Devotions I share about one of those experiences.

I wish you could join me for a church service in the prison I visit regularly. Together we’d experience praise that’s loud and joy that’s overflowing. We’d see worship that’s raw, transparent and vulnerable.

An outside guest recently shared his testimony. “I was a stone cold drunk for 20 years. Sometimes I’d be driving on the expressway and I’d be so drunk I’d roll down the window, throw up and keep driving. I did crystal meth. I was into pornography, adultery, thieving.”

I cringed at the raw and ugly details of a life so obviously devastated by sin. And I marveled as he proclaimed God’s redemptive and transforming grace.

In the broken places of this world I continually hear similar testimonies from people who had hit bottom and literally had nowhere else to turn—except to Jesus.

(image credit/Creation Swap)

Sometimes I get serious spiritual whiplash going from the active, out-loud faith in the prison to the cautious, silent faith in the suburbs.

In a community Bible study I attend, most of the upper-middle class women are seeking faith and have been part of the group for years. Yet even though they’ve heard lots of solid biblical teaching, it seems few have grown. Requests for personal testimony are usually met with uncomfortable silence. Many still seem to hold Jesus at arms’ length.

You and I don’t have to literally be in jail to be imprisoned. We can be locked behind bars made of things stronger than steel. Things like doubt, fear, hurt, anger, pride, jealousy, insecurity, worry, guilt. The list goes on.

In suburbia the greatest barriers to life-changing faith might be the comfort and materialism of our affluent lives. Who needs a savior when we live in kingdoms of our own making?

Plus, we’re not wretches. At least not like the man who shared his testimony!

Or are we?  

[Read more...]

From Good to Better...to Best

Hello flashing cursor and blank white page. It’s good to be back, my friend.

Has absence made your heart grow fonder? Or will you chastise me for neglect? I have excuses at the ready to explain my time away. Some good, some lame. But honestly I’ve neglected you for a simple reason—my attention has been focused elsewhere.

And it’s been a good thing.

2011 was a different kind of year. It brought a season of stripping away as God taught me some hard lessons about holding loosely onto the ways I serve Him. See, I kept a tight grip on the ministries I’d been involved. To me these things were a big part of how I defined myself as a Christian servant. They gave me joy and filled me with pride and I think occasionally bore fruit.  

But truth is, the joy was past tense and the staying was out of obligation. I soldiered on because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do...and God wanted me to do. Plus my ego confirmed, “You can’t leave. This is who you are. They need you…who will take your place?”

Yet in several areas I knew the time had come to say goodbye. And in the walking away I didn't feel regret or remorse as expected, I felt relief and renewal and peace. Yes, it was time.

My empty calendar beckoned, “Fill me up. Don’t be idle. Get busy!” But God said, “Be still.”

And in the in-between-time He allowed my empty hands to grasp more tightly to the passions He’s led me to. And He opened up new ways of serving Him and His people. Often in unexpected ways.

But my writing voice remained quiet. The words set aside, seemingly content to be stored away. Lord, are you calling me from writing, too? In time I’ve felt His answer, “Give voice to the stories I give you.”

After our last trip to Haiti last October I saw this confirmed as God provided amazing opportunities to share our stories from Haiti. In the telling, people were touched, hearts were softened and eyes opened. Others were blessed and I was too.

I know God’s given me a gift with words but I’ve struggled with my role as a writer. For a while I tried to imitate successful writers' habits. But I could never sustain the focus and drive needed to earn the title, "Writer." Guilt followed my lack of discipline.

It's been rewarding to have my words reach others. And exciting to dip my toe in the pool of publication. But I realized I’ve jumped into the writing dreams of others. And this held me hostage. During my break from writing I’ve come to understand that I don’t have a burning passion to write (and that’s OK)... but I do have a passion to tell the stories that God is so vividly writing on the tablets of my heart. Stories of Haiti and the prison. Stories of His amazing grace. Stories of love in action. Stories of adventures with my Guide.

Writing is an extension of my greater calling. An integral part of it. So I look forward to 2012 with open ears and an expectant heart. Excited to see what stories God will tell anew and which ones He’ll continue.

In the beginning of Philippians, Paul says a prayer for the Philippians that strikes me as the secret to success for this Christian journey we’re on: “And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.”

His prayer has become my prayer: to grow in love and wisdom so that I can discern good and best. Just because I CAN do something, doesn't mean I SHOULD do it. Sometimes "No" is the best answer. I don't know if what I'm doing now is the best, but I do know it's better. And in that I'll keep striving for discernment. Because with the "best" comes with the abundant blessings of Christ. And that, my friends, is where I want to be!

What good (and not so good) things are you clutching? If you loosen your grip, what might Christ give you to hold?

Special Delivery

With Christmas shockingly near, maybe you've been cramming with online shopping as I have. The UPS trucks in the neighborhood confirm I'm not the only one! Inspired by our usual UPS driver I have a "brown" devotion on Internet Cafe Devotions today. Happy Christmas!

…let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16, NIV)

Tess, my yellow lab, hears it before I do and runs to the window barking. Her response is more urgent than the usual ruckus aimed at dog walkers and taunting squirrels. This is a full-blown, red-alert, “Hurry! Let me out! It’s time!”
I read her obvious signals and drop what I’m doing to open the door.

Tess runs to the edge of the yard and sits patiently. She waits hyper-alert and expectant. Her tail quivers with excitement. Her head cocks as she listens intently. As the familiar rumble gets nearer and the target appears in view, she barks frantically, “Over here! Over here! Over here!”
 
See, every afternoon the UPS truck comes into our neighborhood. Personally I think the daily arrival of the big brown truck is fairly exciting because it means something fun could be on its way to me—like a book or clothes I ordered, or even a present.

But to Tess, our UPS driver brings something waaaaay better than packages. He brings dog bones.

And every day—whether he has a delivery for us or not—this driver stops at our house to give Tess a Milk Bone. The other day he even backed down the street because he wasn’t turning our way and didn’t want to overlook his furry, frantic friend.

This routine makes Tess so happy and it tickles my heart as well. The man’s kind gesture is a bright spot in my day. Now I too look forward to his daily visit.

More than that, his example shows me how a simple yet faithful act of kindness can make a big impact. Something we may brush off as “no big deal” can encourage someone just at the moment they need encouraging, or lift their spirits just when they need lifting.  <Read more...>