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.

Garden Primer

Today marked a personal first.

I ate a cantaloupe grown in my own garden.

Now before you admire my exceptional gardening skills, let me tell you—this has been my worst year gardening.
In March I planted cold-weather seeds like lettuce, pea, spinach and arugula. I pictured bushy plants and the bounty of salads we’d have. And I waited with anticipation for the seeds to germinate and the plants to grow—“35 days to harvest” the seed packets promised.

I waited. And waited. And waited. 35 days became 50, then 70...

A few sprouts emerged. The peas gave early hope of success. But just when the peas started to climb their trellis, a critter got to them. It was a pea pod massacre.

Seemingly frozen in time, tiny shoots of lettuce didn’t grow. And I’m not sure the spinach ever germinated! It all gave new meaning to the term “micro greens.”

Discouraged, but not defeated, in May I set my sights to the summer planting. I added compost and fertilizer to spruce up the soil. Tiny tomato, cucumber, zucchini and melon plants made their home in my garden. Yet again, I had hope.

At the end of June (100 days after planting) I discovered that the lettuces had finally grown enough to be picked. Excitedly, I snipped off some tender leaves and went inside to concoct a salad. I took a bite. Mmmm! Wait … does the lettuce taste bitter? Nah. Well, maybe… but it’s not that bad, really.

The next week I picked a leaf of lettuce and bit it. The bitter flavor filled my mouth. “Yuck!” I said and spit it out. Lettuce season was officially over. One, one-person salad was the extent of my harvest. I ripped out the plants to make room for the summer bounty.

The good news is that I’m having the best tomato season I’ve had in a long time. Gazpacho, BLTs, tuna stuffed tomatoes, tomatoes and mozzarella, and plain old sliced tomatoes have been dietary staples for the last month.

The other summer plants showed promise. Now the cucumber vines are yellowing and ready to bite the dust. The zucchini got a root rot after only a few weeks of producing fruit. Now the condition is spreading to the melons and they’re dying too. Plus, the weeds are taking over, too.

But how exciting it was to discover a cantaloupe growing in the giant tangle of melon vines! Our first one—ever. Sadly, however, it might be the only one.

So yes, I’m bummed about the unfruitfulness of my gardening efforts. My gardening motto has always been “low maintenance.” I plant and water, and fertilize a little bit. Veggies grow. We pick them. We eat them. I don’t want to go to a lot of trouble.

In my personal and spiritual life I want low maintenance, too. I‘ll sow seeds to share the gospel, till the soil of my gifts, fertilize a friendship or water a ministry. And I expect to see results.

But often, like my garden, there is no harvest. A friendship doesn’t blossom. Efforts to share my gifts are unfruitful. A ministry withers. I’ll be honest. My response isn’t to dig deeper and try harder. It’s to reassess and move to greener pastures. I don’t want to waste my time—or suffer the disappointment.

In any type of garden—real or metaphorical—it’s hard to keep going when we can’t see the results. But doesn’t this attitude run contrary to the gospel message? Isn’t our motivation for more than what is evident before our eyes? Aren’t perseverance and generosity key components of living a life surrendered to the Master Gardener?

Indeed, God’s Word offers instruction: “Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9: 6, 8)

I hear Jesus saying, “Keep going. Keep sowing. Keep tending—in all your gardens—one cantaloupe, one heart won for me at a time. Don’t strive for results you can see. Strive because you love me. I will bless your efforts abundantly. Take time to plant and to water, but know that it is I alone, who makes things grow. Trust me to take care of the harvest.”

This week wild weather hit our area. Thunderstorm after thunderstorm dumped buckets of water on my flailing garden. Mini-floods surrounded it. And even hail pummeled it. The wounded plants are history and the living ones are limping.

But, the skies will clear and the sun will dry the soil. Bountiful harvest or not, I’m not ready to quit. After all, fall lettuce planting season is right around the corner and I have hope.

Lettuce, anyone?

Bliss in the Solitude

I. Am. In. Heaven.


My kids left this afternoon on a trip with my parents. My husband is on a business appointment. And I am home alone in a quiet house—with no one to carpool, no deadlines pressing and no interruptions. Just Tess and I hanging out—relaxed and carefree. (Although pretty much every day for our adorable yellow lab is stress-free and chill.) But, I do think she looks particularly pleased as she’s laying at my feet.


It’s been a long while since I’ve had this kind of solitude. And my heart is happy. I need this.


Plus, I’ve exercised, I’ve showered and the laundry is done. Even the dinner menu is planned. (Who says God doesn't do miracles!) So, what was the first order of business? To curl up on my favorite loveseat and finish my latest book…and enjoy a mini-catnap.


Now I’m reviewing my notes from the writers’ conference last week and planning my next writing steps. From top to bottom, the conference was a great experience. I have a book idea brewing and proposed the concept to a few editors/agents/publishers. Part of me wanted them all to say, “Forget it. It’s been done. Your idea is stale. There’s no market for it. You don’t have what it takes.” Seriously. I see how much of an uphill struggle book publishing is, and a big part of me says, Why would any sane person pursue that road?!


But the writing professionals didn’t dissuade me. In fact one of them said my idea was the only one that excited him from the entire conference. Of course, I was flattered and encouraged, but needed to remind myself that I haven’t even written one sentence of said book yet!


The whole experience made me question my gifts, my calling and my next steps. How does God want me to proceed? What gifts should I develop them more fully? Should I concentrate on ministry or look for paying opportunities? Should I stay in my small arena where it’s safe and relative success is guaranteed or venture out into the unknown and risk catastrophic failure?


I say I like adventure, and I do, but there is so much that scares and intimidates me about taking a next step. My weaknesses seem a glaring liability—my deficiencies a brick wall. I look around and see so many writers who write with far greater skill, humor, compassion and eloquence. I see writers who love the spotlight and speaking and platform-building (necessary for authors). I visit websites and blogs that show lives and families that resemble pages from the latest JCrew, Pottery Barn or Gourmet magazines. Who lives this way?


I hear the message, Only the exceptional need apply.


I know this mindset is a thorn (certainly one of many) in my side. And I know the enemy wants me to marinate in these feelings of inadequacy. But part of me believes I’m right— that I’m not good enough. That I don’t measure up. And that while I may be lots of things, exceptional isn’t one of them.


Thankfully, the Bible is filled with stories of unlikely, unwilling and unqualified people through whom God did great things. I call to mind the promise of the cross. If Jesus lived, died and conquered death, surely He can slay the demons of doubt that infest me. Surely He can fulfill His purpose in me, regardless of my confidence in the matter.


And He can do the same with you. I don’t know where your confidence lies right now or what insecurities plague you. I don’t know why women especially, struggle with feelings of inadequacy. But so many of us do.


But Jesus is our hope. He is our strength. And He is our peace. His grace covers our weakness, and overcomes the voice in our head and the lies of this world. “I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.” (John 16:32-33, The Message)


I take these words to heart. I drink in their truth and promise. I press on, reaffirmed that I'm not going it alone. And I offer up a prayer of thanks for the gifts God's given me—starting with a blissfully, quiet house.

Finding Hope in a Hopeless World

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
my hope comes from him. ~Psalm 62:5

Last Sunday was the first Sunday in Advent. Per my post on Advent Conspiracy, I’m trying to make this Christmas a little less crazy and a little more focused. To that end, we put together an Advent wreath so our family will pause each Sunday evening for a time of mini-worship. (Side note: Looking for something else, I happened upon a box of Advent candles at AC Moore. They even sell wreaths with the candle holders built right in. Who knew?! The whole thing cost less than seven dollars and took moments to put together.)

The first candle of Advent stands for hope.

Job and Psalms are some of the most anguish-filled books in the Bible. Even so, the word “hope” is mentioned more in them than the rest of the Old Testament. Obviously the writers of these books suffered greatly. They were oppressed physically and spiritually. They had experienced a stripping away that left them naked and broken. Yet, despite their sadness and circumstance, they knew in the deepest parts of their soul, their hope for the future was found in the Lord. We talk about the patience of Job; perhaps we should focus on the hope of Job.

To us today, the Old Testament can look like a dusty old book. It’s hard to relate to because life isn’t like that anymore. That was then, this is now.

I think times may change but the human experience doesn’t. Just look around.

We suffer greatly through abuse, addiction, a graceless society, war and terrorism. We’re oppressed physically and spiritually through cancer, loneliness, depression, materialism and sexual immorality. We’ve experienced stripping away through our prodigal children, evaporating finances, unemployment, fractured relationships, illness and death.

Each morning the paper tells of so much suffering and evil not only around the world, but close to home. At its best, this world doesn’t make sense. And at its worst, it can seem hopeless. It’s easy to wonder where God is. Does He see? Does He care?

God answered these age-old questions with one simple answer: Jesus. Jesus’ coming reveals the specific glory for which the ancient hoped for, but couldn’t name. He who was there at the beginning surrendered his infinite strength and power to become human “so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corin. 5:21) The seemingly simple story of a baby in a manager changed all of human history.

Because of Jesus our hope is no longer vague or our future uncertain. Jesus bridged the chasm of sin that separated us from God. He gave us the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. And He gave us the promise of eternal life so that “what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.” (Rom. 8:18)

So, when I look at this week’s Advent candle I truly see hope.

HOPE that “he who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion.” even when it’s hard to see the evidence. (Phil. 1:6a)

HOPE that His grace is sufficient for me, not in spite of, but because of my weakness. (2 Corin. 12:9)

HOPE that no matter how I will fail as a parent, God has plans for my children— "plans to prosper [them] and not to harm [them], plans to give [them] hope and a future. (Jer. 29:11)

HOPE that regardless of the leadership of our government and political happenings my future is secure because my citizenship isn't here, it is in heaven. (Eph 2:19)

HOPE that God will “richly provide us with everything for our enjoyment” despite the fledging stock market, crumbling financial institutions and increasing unemployment. (1 Tim. 6:17)

HOPE that the battle over evil was fought and won by Jesus on the cross and no amount evil doings in this world can change that. Satan has received his judgement. (1 Corin. 15:57, Rev. 20)

And HOPE that, “to live is Christ and to die is gain” for “the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Phil. 1:21; Rom. 6:23)

Lord, even though it can sometimes seem there’s no hope in this hopeless world, thank you for sending your Son. Through Him “we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” (Heb. 6:19)
Amen.

A Mother's Pain. A Father's Love.

I had planned to write about something else today, but I just got back from running errands and it’s on my heart to share this.

As I walked into Target this afternoon, a woman ahead of me caught my attention. She was dressed for tennis and looked like a good player (she was actually built kind of like me—tall, strong and athletic ;-) Since I play tennis often, I thought I might know her, but at a distance I couldn’t tell.

Luckily, she had paused inside the store and I was able to get a good look at her. Nope, I had never seen her before. Oh, well. I treated myself to a Starbucks and went about my shopping.

As I shopped for hair care products, I heard someone talking on their phone in the aisle next to me. Because the caller was speaking rather loudly and emphatically the conversation caught my attention. But, this wasn’t one of those rude cell phone users who blabs on and on because they think their life is too important to deal with in private.

This was a woman in anguish.

She told whoever she was talking to that she lived in a constant state of fear, not knowing when she’d get a call to confirm the worst. It became apparent that the person she was talking to was the cause of this fear.

It was her 18-year old daughter (as I later found out), in the midst of an addiction, living somewhere far away and making very bad choices. The woman was patiently, but desperately, trying to communicate with her daughter and get her to recognize the devastating consequences of her behavior. And to show her she loved her. My heart broke for this mother and I silently said a prayer for both of them.

Because it felt like I was trespassing on something so private I tried to quickly finish and move on. As I passed the aisle where the caller stood, I was surprised to see the tennis woman I had spotted earlier. The last thing I heard her say as I walked away was, “No. I’m not mad at you.”

The pain in that woman’s voice is still with me. Any of us could be in her place. Drug and alcohol addiction is such a powerful, evil force. And it’s all around us. Brothers, sisters, spouses, parents, sons, daughters. Addiction does not discriminate by age, gender or economic background. It welcomes all.

For so many of you, this woman’s world is your reality. You are consumed with fear as you helplessly watch your loved one struggle with addiction. You try to help them find a way out, but the fierce grip of addiction pulls them back again and again.

I pray for each of you. I pray for the addicts in your lives. I pray for this woman and her daughter. I pray that in the midst of this darkness, God’s love will shine bringing hope and peace and healing.

I pray for those struggling with recovery.

And I pray that God’s protection surrounds our children, whether they are still young and innocent or at an age where drugs and alcohol are common choices.

As it turns out, I stood right behind this woman in the check-out line. It seemed too coincidental and I felt compelled to speak to her. To break the ice, I chatted about tennis (which she does play). But there was more I needed to say. After confessing that I had heard her on the phone, I told her that I would pray for her. It didn’t seem like much, but it was the best I could offer. I wanted her to know there is hope and love in the midst of it all.

Because, really that is the best we have to offer—hope. Hope in the One who is stronger than any evil, even addiction—Jesus. How do we know? Because Jesus tells us, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

“In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-39)

Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

Getting Out of the Pit

“Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up or the pit close its mouth over me.” Psalm 69:15

Have you ever been in a pit? These aren’t valleys that accompany the normal ebb and flow of life; they’re the holes that we fall into that threaten to swallow us.

Our pits have names: loneliness, doubt, addiction, fear, past hurts, sorrow, sickness, insecurity, worry, envy, selfishness, anger and shame just to name a few.

Maybe you “visit” your pit from time to time. Perhaps you’ve spent so much time there it feels like home. Or maybe you’ve been blindsided by a traumatic event or illness and hurled into one. It makes no difference. When you’re a pit dweller, it’s dark, lonely and confusing there. Logic doesn’t prevail and hope is elusive. The problem isn’t getting in, it’s getting out.

From my experience, rarely (like never) does anyone jump in to join you. So, while you’re in there alone, you get busy. You paint the walls with self-pity. Carpet the floors with despair. And accessorize with anger. The pit may even start to feel comfortable…and maybe even deserved…so you stay.

Is this where God wants us to be? I think the answer is an emphatic NO!

But there is someone who celebrates when we’re downtrodden—Satan. Spiritual warfare is real. Forget about demon possession, as long as the enemy can keep our eyes OFF God and ON ourselves, our doubts and our problems, he’s won.

The Bible is filled with stories of pit dwellers. Moses was filled with doubt and felt completely unqualified to do what God called him to do. Sarah waited 25 years for the son God promised. Hannah struggled with sadness and shame because she was barren. Job lost everything. And David repeatedly cried out for the Lord to have mercy and deliver him.

We’re not alone in our troubles. And there seems to be no doubt that we will have them, but Jesus did not die for us to dwell in them. Satan condemns, but Jesus came to redeem us and set us free—“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

Is life abundant in the pit? Absolutely not! Fortunately there is hope.

I’ve learned that getting out of the pit is about letting go so that I can receive. It’s about choosing to listen to the Voice of Truth and not the lies of the enemy. It’s about trusting God that He will do what he promises. Because ultimately, it's about faith.

Are you in a pit? Cling to the words of King David, “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.” Psalm 40:2

Cry out to Jesus, stretch out your hand and trust in Him. He has not forgotten you.