Becoming Washers of Feet

I'm writing less and more sporadically these days, and it seems more raw. I thought when I came back from Serbia last October I would be a more liberated, world wise writer. I was wrong. It seems that words have become like a jagged, ugly cry rather than a thing of beauty. But some things of beauty, at least outwardly, are hideous. A brand new baby in a smelly, manure filled stable for example. Or perfect Jesus, with the tender voice and piercing eyes, blood matted on a cross. Perhaps that's where worth comes in, the holy meeting the putrid in a visceral mess.

Lately, when I un-clench a protective hand from my blood red heart, I stare at a silver vein running through it. It creates a stark contrast, this sliver of hope tracing itself on flesh. A promise held in trust. It aches like a splinter and throbs like love, tethering it's owners together, stretched thin through time and space.

What story can be told? I've told it before, over and over. Hands I've held in my own, small and dry from lack of care. Chewed for comfort, missing a mother's touch. I remember the feel of them; some days I wish I didn't. And yet he smiles and coos and laughs, if you can call the sound he makes laughter. Who's womb bore him and then gave him up when illness clamped it's steely jaws around his mind? Why would I, a stranger, grieve and cry and pray and beg for his life more than his own flesh and blood? What could her story be.

Sometimes I remember his fragile frame and wonder if a soul and body can just disappear. How many months until his stick legs are bent and twisted, never to straighten again? Will his smile dry up and the mask of loss be his to wear forever? Will the dull, glassy, institutional eyes replace the sparkle? Will he be lost for good? At the moment I see life flicker behind his eyes and I pray it doesn't vanish.

I'll see him in July. I catch my breath and wonder what I'll find. Will he be in the little bed, arms pushed through the rails, waiting? Will he have changed? Will I be able to bear seeing him again?

Sometimes I wonder how the world can take the burgeoning weight of her orphans without ripping at the seams of her huge heart, when it feels my own cannot. How do you taste the brutal love of a Father grieving for his children and not stagger under the weight of it? I cannot, and so most days I cry.

I cry for his mother who knew a beautiful, sweet child and lost him to disease. I cry for the hopes she had for who he would be. I cry for his body, his time, his future, his days locked away from love. I cry for what could have been and what may not be. I cry for me to have seen him and have fallen in love and have to live without him. I cry for everyone who hasn't seen, and lives as if he and his brothers and sisters don't exist, and miss the agony of caring. I cry because I escaped a life of neglect that so many in the world have known. I cry because Jesus cries and he wants company in the grieving. I cry because one day I trust I won't have to any more.

He's just one orphan of so very many, why could it possibly matter that I love him? Ezekiel 16 contains a peculiar passage that hints at the answer. God says to his people Israel, "No one had the slightest interest in you; no one pitied you or cared for you. On the day you were born, you were unwanted, dumped in a field and left to die. “But I came by and saw you there, helplessly kicking about in your own blood. As you lay there, I said, ‘Live!’" Is that not the story of humanity, of me? Is that not the story of the cross?

What if God had passed  by on the day we became orphans in the Garden at the beginning of time? What if he decided Jesus was too great of a price for our own lives, could you blame him? But he didn't. He has pursued us as though we have always been his sons and daughters.

That's what I came away with this Easter season. I was reminded that a great God stooped to clean and care for an orphaned humanity. I was reminded that I'm not greater than my Master and just as he washed feet it's my privilege and responsibility to wash feet too. Wherever I may find them. In my home, in my church, on the side of the road, in Serbia.

I wish I could daily wash the feet of this little orphaned boy. But right now I can't. And so I daily choose to bear the burden of love and wash his feet in prayer from a distance. It's always more complicated when holy and profane meet. I don't know if I'll ever bring him home and be his mama. But I will climb in the yoke of suffering with Jesus. The cross has made a way, and burdens that never seemed as if they could be born, for the love of Jesus, can be. I will labor for this child. The heavy heart that comes, in the light of Jesus, becomes a joy.

When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. John 13:12-17

Who's burden are you carrying, who's feet has Jesus asked you to wash. The burden becomes joy when carried in love.

How do you use your influence?

Business bullied my heart this week and pressing responsibility squeezed tight. The littlest one bore the brunt of it. She usually does. As I felt the crush of expectation, mostly my own; and drive to accomplish, my words turned sour and sharp. How could I think about, write about, celebrate mercy, and yet so shamefully neglect to give it? 

I'm reminded once again that I am sorrowfully broken, so easily misguided. Even the best of my intentions, without God breath, are a puff of dust leaving a dry taste in the mouth. 

Perhaps that easy distraction, a slipping into the love of boxes and rules instead of truth, isn't so new a problem. In Acts Paul mentions a group of women, devout, God fearing women, who were easily stirred up to love their own way more than the truth.

And so the Word of the Lord [concerning eternal salvation through Christ] scattered and spread throughout the whole region. But the Jews stirred up the devout women of high rank and the outstanding men of the town, and instigated persecution against Paul and Barnabas and drove them out of their boundaries. Acts 13:49-50

The truth of Christ is always met with opposition. What is scary is that it can be met with opposition even in the most devout. Truth always requires a response, a bending with or standing opposed. It strikes me in this passage that the women mentioned had the opportunity to affect the whole community, for good or bad, with their actions and words.

Do I realize, do you realize, the power our words and attitudes, actions and choices have on those around us? Our children are watching, our husbands listening, the young women we teach, the facebook community we interact with, the women we have coffee with, they are all influenced by us.

Women are influencers with the power to "instigate". Sometimes it's hard to look in the mirror, but I think this question bears attention. How are we influencing? Are our words negative, biting into the heart of those listening, leaving behind a trail of doubt and cynicism; are they self exalting; are they colored with rigid religion, fear, or pride?

Or do our words wash others with an outpouring of hope, fresh as rain, quenching parched hearts. Do we speak of mercy, forgiveness, trust? Do we confess our fears and weaknesses, doubts and lack of understanding in humility? Do we celebrate the spread of Christ's eternal salvation, for all people?

Our influence as women in our communities is powerful and not to be taken lightly. I'm convicted regularly how short I've fallen, how careless I've been with such a sacred trust.

I'd love to hear from you. How do you guard your influence? Do you have women in your life who hold you accountable? 

You can leave a comment here or head over to the Allied Women website and join in the conversation in the Mentoring forum. We would love to have you!

A Broken Christmas

Not Okay

I'm not okay. I hate wrestling with the pain of life at Christmas time. It's supposed to be a season of beauty and wonder, right? I dreamed about Serbia last night. It left a gnawing ache in my heart.

So many things in my life I can't heal, I can't help. I can't heal my own wounds of painful and disappointing years in ministry. I can't heal my Mom's cancer. I have so little strength to help the disabled of Serbia, whom I've come to love.

Instead of boisterous and strong this Christmas I feel sad, weak, vulnerable. I keep shoving those feelings down, I'd rather pretend I'm okay. But I'm not.

If you've read my blog you'll know that I asked God to show me his presence this Christmas season. I suppose I had expected something mysterious and beautiful. Instead, I feel broken. I didn't expect him to take me to a place of vulnerability, dependence, need; but he has.

Instead of fighting it, I'm working on embracing this hard place. It's my gift to Jesus this Christmas, acceptance and trust. I choose to let him into the broken places.

Not Okay Is Why He Came

In my weakness I'm reminded that Jesus did the same for us. He embraced vulnerability, dependence, and ultimately brokenness for our good. What kind of a God would step into our messiness? I'm thankful for his presence in a whole new way this Christmas season. 

I wonder how often I've overlooked other people's pain at the holidays. It's inconvenient and messy to step into broken lives. 

But Jesus has set the example and I'm trusting him to lead the way. Painful days are exactly why God wrapped himself in flesh and came to be with us! If you're hurting join me in inviting God into your painful days. If you are in a strong place look for those around you who are hurting this Christmas to show compassion and love to.

The Word became flesh and blood,

and moved into the neighborhood.

We saw the glory with our own eyes,

the one-of-a-kind glory,

like Father, like Son,

Generous inside and out,

true from start to finish.

John 1:14

I'm resting on the generosity of the God-Man who moved into our messy world, who showed up to save, I hope you are too!

A Lesson In Abiding, Humility, Grace and a New Found Limp

On Wednesday I wrote a blog post that I regret. (If you didn't read it don't bother looking for it, I removed it.) On Thursday I wanted to delete my blog and silently slip away, never to have my words read again. Like shards of glass, sharp and scattered, I knew I could never call the words back. Friday I woke up to Mercy, a song over me, grace extended in my direction even though I hadn't offered the same. Sweet relief.


The week before I posted about not being enough. Then I posted about a right expectation of other's and their inability to be enough to satisfy us. I then promptly forgot everything I learned and gave way to the self-righteous urge to sloppily express hot feelings.


Thankfully Jesus doesn't deal with me in the same manner I deal with others. 


Interestingly, Wednesday morning, my father-in-law and I had a conversation about learning from the mistakes of others and our own mistakes. And still I blazed ahead giving vent to feelings I had not allowed Jesus to temper properly. What could have been an opportunity to give voice to truth was lost because truth and humility cannot be separated, and I would have none of that.


Graciously some friends emulated Paul in my life, "But when Peter came to Antioch, I (Paul) had to oppose him to his face, for what he did was very wrong." Their gentle push back, a reminder to embrace grace, stung. Their words also forced me to Jesus in prayer. Through it I gained more clarity about the concerns I had so clumsily expressed but more importantly I regained a right perspective of who I am in Jesus.


I had not been abiding in him. Disconnected from Jesus' heart, that great source of love, my words had turned brassy and ugly. A painful reminder that abiding is essential. Apart from him I am nothing, my words mean nothing. 


John 15:3-5 "Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing."


As a writer, to have an audience is a privilege, words are a trust. When my words resonate with you I'm thankful. But when they don't I'm thankful for friends who are willing to say so. I have people in my daily life I'm accountable to. I've given them the right to challenge me. I want to do the same here. I welcome accountability from you the reader to remind me to abide in Jesus, to use words according to his purpose. 


There are times for a writer to call out a bold challenge, times for quiet tones of beauty, and then there are times to sit in quiet humility, hand over mouth. Sometimes it's a challenge to know which is which. 


I know that I will at times meet with disagreement or criticism, that's an inevitable part of putting yourself out there as a writer. Pleasing people can't and shouldn't be my goal. But a healthy part of the writing process is taking challenges from trusted sources to heart, allowing them to sift motive and intent.


I will write with a limp for weeks, months, maybe even years. Which I think is a valuable gift. A costly gift, guarding words as they flow from my fingers and into your heart. Reminding me I'm susceptible to pride and foolishness, reminding me to abide in Jesus.


Thank you for reading, for being gracious and patient, and for second chances. 

The Real Deal

I'm not Ann Voskamp, or one of a dozen other amazing authors, I'm not sure if that fact dismays or delights me. It's been on my mind lately and I've been wrestling it into submission. 

Two different blog posts on friend's sites recently prompted these responses from me.

Why do I write? Does the world really need another novel, another blog post, another e-book. Yes and no. The entire world may not need to hear what we need to say, but our sphere of influence does. Words of hope, words of healing, words of wisdom or challenge, words of joy, of meaning, of beauty, they are our gift to the hearts of those around us. Loved ones and strangers alike. Our hearts long to connect and words allow us to do just that. 

and 

I've been pondering lately, how I can be the best me, who honors God, if I'm worried about being someone else?

Are you being the best you possible? Do you wonder if what you do matters?  I say it does. One of my favorite quotes is from Jim Elliot, “Father, make of me a crisis man. Bring those I contact to decision. Let me not be a milepost on a single road; make me a fork, that men must turn one way or another on facing Christ in me.” 

It may be that my words and actions, led by Jesus, impact one person or one hundred. But that's up to God. He can use whomever he wants however he wants. Our responsibility isn't the size of the audience, the budget, the talent, ours is the responsibility of submission and obedience.

"For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do," Ephesians 2:10. Don't offer the world a copy of someone else, offer the gift of you, uniquely created to honor God, pointing others to the truth of Christ. 

I want to hear your story. What dreams has God given you, what are you gifted for, what are you offering to others?

Just A Man

I saw something yesterday that I can't shake. It's niggling me. I saw a man. Let me explain. I watched a speech by President Obama. Now, before you start stepping onto your band wagon or soap box, sit back down, this isn't one of those posts.

No I didn't see a demon or a savior, as he is so often painted. I saw a man. A man with tired eyes, graying hair, and a flat voice. I could be wrong but it appeared to me I saw a man loosing heart. A man who has been fighting a battle far bigger than himself for longer than he has the resources or energy.

Ideologically I don't agree with President Obama. Actually when he was elected, to be honest, I flipped out. But I'm not flipping out anymore and quite frankly I have little interest in elections and politics and such. Not because I'm embittered more because I'm liberated. Living in the Kingdom of God here and now, destined for the Kingdom of God later, is perspective changing.

Previously, I saw President Obama as the enemy. But I don't anymore. He's not our enemy. Our own hate is. If we have been born into the family of God through the sacrifice of Jesus and power of the Holy Spirit we have very few enemies. Death isn't our enemy, it's been defeated; people aren't our enemy, God is greater; circumstances aren't our enemy, they are temporary.

No, our greatest enemy is our own self. Our own pride, lust, fear, or indifference; they are the enemy of intimacy with God. Not the president. 

And yet I see sound bites and words flying across the internet and hear conversations that drip with vitriol and disdain. But the president shouldn't be our enemy. He should be the focus of our prayers and compassion. We all want a scape goat, and President Obama is a natural target, but he's the wrong one. No one person ruins a country. We all have.

I think there is enough gluttony, self-centeredness, apathy, and prayerlessness to go around for us to all indulge in a little humility and repentance. What concerns me is our pride. How can we speak about grace for others but not offer it to the president, as if he's too bad for it? But God says he expects something different from his children.

"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God... rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.... Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." Colossians 3:1,8,12

If we are raised in rebirth with Jesus Christ our real life is in him, and his leadership is unshakable no matter who is president. Fear is improper for people living in the reality of eternity. Malicious, hateful words have no place in our speech, they are a denial of our birthright of grace. I have no doubt God meant that applies to all people we speak to or about, from our children to our president. If we join in the mudslinging debate we are wallowing in the filth of this world. Clothing ourselves in compassion, humility and gentleness lifts us above that mess.

Yesterday, for the first time, I saw a man. And I repented from my slander and hate. I prayed for compassion and kind eyes. And I prayed that I, and my brothers and sisters, would do my part in the reformation of society. Not by yelling at the unrighteous but by living in bold conviction and authentic love. 

It is our duty to speak up for the unborn, the poor, the disabled. It's also our responsibility to care for them. It's not our duty or right to turn that love for the needy into hate for others. Certainly we can speak about what is good and right for all people without ungracious words for someone else. 

If God had treated us with the gracelessness we have a tendency to treat others with, when we were dead in our sin, what hope would we have had? I'm thankful he's not like us but that we can become like him. I invite you. Look and see a man. A man that needs grace, just like you. 

The Gift of Right Expectation

Yesterday I wrote about not being enough. Not enough to satisfy other people, or accomplish anything on my own really. Only Jesus is enough to satisfy and to overcome our weaknesses. 

Today I'm wondering, do we allow Jesus to be enough for others as well? Grace let's others off the hook. It is a right expectation that they can never be enough to satisfy or fulfill us. Grace says, your weaknesses are covered by Jesus' righteousness. Grace has orderly expectations of God and of people. 

I'm not saying we don't hold other Christ followers accountable to a righteous life. And I'm not saying that we don't desire those living in sin to be reconciled to God.

I'm saying we live out our relationships with others, even the hard parts of confrontation and restoration, with a heart remembering that we ourselves are not enough. Expecting others to be enough to get it right all the time, please God in their own strength, and never disappoint us, is unwise and unkind. 

I think that may be what God meant when he inspired Proverbs 16:18. "Pride goes before destruction,  a haughty spirit before a fall." He hates it when his children, whom he saved when they couldn't save themselves, forget their humble beginnings and deal harshly with others. When we expect others to be enough we're saying we can be perfect ourselves, which is a lie, and God opposes that lie in our lives for our own liberation.

I have to confess, I have struggled for years with this. But God has faithfully been stripping away spiritual pride. Of course I'm disappointed when leaders don't lead, peers stumble, those who should know better don't. But the reason I'm disappointed has changed. Instead of being offended by the short comings of others, it's my love for Jesus' bride that desires the health and well being of it's members.

I've lived too long with the proverbial plank in my eye, running around pointing out others specks, their not enoughness. But I don't think the size of the sin is the issue in that teaching, I think the ownership is. Our own issues should be foremost in our lives, our sin, our obedience is our primary responsibility. It's not that we aren't supposed to assist others with their own speck. It's that we need to deal with our junk, recognize in humility the that we have junk, and remember it's a privilege to assist others with their messiness.

Not an easy task, to admit we are not enough and allow others that same freedom. But what a liberating way to live; our eyes on Jesus, trusting his righteousness for us all. Our devotion in prayer for the church body and our families, our gift of forgiveness, our hopeful expectation, are all evidence of faith in the One who is enough for us all.

Ephesians 5:1-2, "Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God."

Is it harder for you to accept weakness in yourself or in another? Ask God to help you extend life giving grace today.

Follow the Leader

Leadership is a hot topic these days. And for good reason. The spiritual law of leadership is important. Defined by the Trinity and effecting our social orders from family life, to government, church health to corporate success it's obvious that leadership matters.

There's a topic that I think needs equal attention however. How to be a good follower. Being a good follower is as important as being a good leader and can impact a leaders success. Interestingly enough I believe the life of Jesus teaches us a great deal about following the leader. Even leaders need to know how to be good followers because they are apt, in some areas of their lives, to not always be the leader.

In his time on earth Jesus had followers but he was also led. Jesus said that he came to do the will of the Father. (John 8:28) He was submissive and humble, not necessarily popular attributes, but important.

As a woman who is married to a pastor I've had an opportunity to contemplate this truth over the years from a variety of angles. Families and churches would be much healthier if leaders led and followers followed.

Here are just a few characteristics I believe a good follower exhibits:

Humility - those of us in a position of following need to be okay with not being the leader. Recognizing our submission to another's role helps define a healthy relationship. We all have equality in our value but we don't all have equality in our roles. We need to be okay with that. Leaders must leverage their power for the good of others and followers must respect authority without manipulating and undermining. Confident respect is healthy when followed through in submission.

Assume goodwill - unless otherwise proved operate under the assumption that your husband, pastor, father, or boss has motives of good. If it is proved  they don't find out why, don't chuck the relationship, work toward restoration and healing. Leaders need appropriate accountability and at times correction. However, I've found when we believe in a leader, pray for them, encourage them, and follow well, the need for intervention is lessened.

Participate - don't just sit back and watch the leader do all the work. Just because you "wouldn't do it that way" doesn't get you off the hook of taking ownership. Leaders can't be successful if those they are leading are passive. If you are a part of a family, church, organization, country the success of those organizations depend on your willing participation.

"Have confidence in your leaders and submit to their authority, because they keep watch over you as those who must give an account. Do this so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no benefit to you." Hebrews 13:17


So in a day when the conversation turns readily to leadership let's not forget to follow. Nothing promotes unity in a family or a church like when the balance of leadership and submission are in place. Have you struggled with a resentful or suspicious attitude toward the leaders in your life? Ask God to help you overcome it and instead be a blessing to them. Leaders lead better when their followers follow.

Love Matters ~ The Heart of it All

I wrote a post this week entitled Unity Matters- A Match Made in Heaven about the importance of marriage. I believe marriage matters because everything God ordains or creates has value. Today, I say people matter. Does anything have value and touch God's heart as dearly as people? I don't think so. He is a great lover.

So while marriage matters, and the church matters they are not ends in and of themselves any more than I believe grace is. Because it's all about unity and God is looking for people to unite to his heart and to become part of his family. Marriages and churches are servants, they are servants of people, because people matter.

In my last post I told a story, a figurative story. Today I'm going to tell a real one and it's loose ended and in the making. Here goes:

Once upon a time a young woman felt compelled to ask God, "show me your heart, I want to know what you love, what matters to you." And he answered. God began showing her his plan to unify people to himself and each other. And he started teaching her about love. A robust, purifying, enduring love; not sappy and flat. He peeled back a layer of life and showed her that his heart beat for the broken. First revealing hidden children, outcasts and abused, orphaned and disabled. Then he made her squirm. He clearly showed her his love for someone unexpected.

It happened one morning when she least expected it (this Tuesday) and it took her breath away. After hours of conversation with loved ones, soul searching, and bible searching; brought on by North Carolina's Marriage Amendment vote. After an online and real life whirlwind of debate and feeling like the world was turning upside down and what is the church coming to anyway kind of week, she was feeling raw. Wrestling truth had left her limping. Driving down the road that morning God told her to turn around and pick up a lonely road walker. She argued, God insisted, she obeyed.

A conversation ensued. Strangers talked about the hard reality of life, new cars, a dead father, and hand lotion. God came up, the young man was searching. She asked, "Do you have a church? Why not visit ours?" He said that would be nice, he was looking for new direction and better friends. He said he had prayed for help that morning. As they parted ways the young man leaned in close and asked. "Can someone like me, you know, gay, come to your church?"

What would you have said?

The question still rings in her heart. She responded "God loves you. Of course you can come." 

But that wasn't good enough. "I'm not worried about God's love," he replied. 

She got it, it wasn't God's love he was doubting, it was hers. "I believe that the Bible is true and that God is holy. But only God can convict us of sin, not people. We would love to have you," she answered. 

Before he left he reached out for her hand. She said "You know God told me to turn around and come back. God cares about you." And they moved, self consciously toward each other, because God was drawing them.

She pulled onto the highway and wanted to weep and laugh at once. God had pulled a stunt no magician could. He had brought her low and lifted himself up, he had reminded her that he loves the pharisee and broken alike, he made her the answer to a young man's prayer. One she would have said God doctrinally wasn't obligated to listen to or answer. But God had reminded her he wasn't obligated by her views of doctrine. She was convinced she had seen the love of God being poured out and it wasn't what she had expected. 

The next day she got a phone call. It was the stranger turned friend asking for a ride to church. 

My view of marriage remains in tact. However, I'm afraid my view of people, and of love, hangs in tatters. My pride is being laid low and God's love has coursed through my life like a tornado. I'm convinced of one thing. The only person's holiness I'm responsible for is mine. I am, however, indebted to love everyone.

So, what was a distant and theoretical conversation has become a real life crash coarse in love. "Can someone like me come to your church?" I will never be the same.

(By the way this song was playing on the radio when I drove past the road walking stranger, that's when I turned around)

Small

Small. I feel my smallness today. Insignificant, I would even venture. My voice is drown out by the cacophonous roar of humanity. Billions of people, jostling. Bigger, stronger, louder, smarter, more. Who am I on this planet that I should matter. Painfully ordinary. And yet I saw today a sparrow, smaller than I, worth less. I remember.

Not even a little bird can fall unnoticed by my Father, he knows. He takes notice of me, valued more than all the little birds. I wear his name wherever I go in my small life, down my short path. The Son notices, calling out my name for his Father to hear, gathering up his small one. (Matt. 10)

Pounding pulse of heartbeat in my ears, massive whoosh. Silence, hush falls. Breath of heaven stills, eyes turn. Heavenly eyes all on me. Throngs blur, disappear from my view as I step forward. Seraph's piercing gaze watching, the small one. I approach weighty, looming throne. Able to stand and be seen. It's the stamp, his large heart stamped across my plain one. Giving worth, adding weight, magnifying glory not my own. 

I'm no bigger than when I came, not richer or prettier. Not even more loved. In my own eyes I may be even smaller, I don't mind. I've been seen but more importantly, I've seen. In my mind, he's grown bigger as I've drawn near.

The delight of being small

Oh wow, upon first seeing the ocean.

"You're big, I'm little," my toddler's luminous eyes swell in solemn wonder over this observation. Maggie compares her hand resting on mine, her height to her Daddy's, the size of our clothes, each time bubbling delightedly, "you're big, I'm little." I smile at her pronouncements, expressed in her adorable baby lisp. She's learning about her world and her place in it, my mother's heart rejoices in watching the process. I remember too her older brother's similar delight in discovering the grandeur of nature when he was her age.

As I watch her take in the wonder of a world that is larger than herself, the whisper sweeps across my heart. "Take note of your smallness, delight in My bigness." There's a lesson to be learned in my daughters understanding of her size. Intrinsic to her small stature is a need to be protected and sheltered, she knows that. She also recognizes her parents ability to care for her. Perhaps that is part of what Jesus meant when he challenged his followers to become childlike.

I'm reminded of the psalmist's exclamation in Psalm 8 "LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?" Appropriate littleness, magnifying ultimate Bigness.

Of course my daughter is confident in our love for her but she is respectful of our difference is stature. We delight in caring for her, but we do not take advice from her or expect her to function as our peer. There is freedom and safety in our relationship as she acknowledges her smallness in relation to our bigness and as we fulfill our responsibility to her need.

Are there areas in your life where you need to embrace your small stature before God, depending upon his big heart to meet your need? If so a response of worship can restore that balance. Let's join our hearts with the seraphim in declaring, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory!” Isaiah 6:3

Women who Inspire: The Sisterhood

Sister -  (from dictionary.com)
adjective

12. being or considered a sister; related by or as if by sisterhood: sister ships.

13. having a close relationship with another because of shared interests, problems, or the like.

I have been undeniably blessed by precious women in my life. Some close family, some lived before my time, some have rubbed me hard smoothing away jagged edges, some young, some old, some who know my heart deeply and still love me, some I've never met. But all sharing a common relation, fellowship birthed from the blood of Jesus. Sweet family, a gift. These women have so energized my Christian walk I just had to introduce some of them to you. (I hope you will post a comment and tell me about the women who have blessed your life.)

This week's sister:
I met Jennifer four years ago and I had no idea at the time that she would change my life. To be honest, at the time she unnerved me just a bit. Not so any more, Jennifer is my sister. As a matter of fact she has often asked me if I am her sister, to which I heartily agree. Jennifer was born with Down syndrome, and if that wasn't enough, as a young woman she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I remember wondering at the time, "God why was that necessary, isn't Down syndrome plenty, her life had to get worse?"  So, over time, he showed me why.

For some reason Jennifer liked me, so at church on Sunday's, or other gatherings, she often followed me around. I didn't mind too much and had a soft spot for her. One Sunday she was particularly clingy, I excused myself to go to the restroom, telling her I would be right back. A couple of minutes later Jennifer was standing outside of the bathroom stall, keeping me company, it was a cozy conversation. Some things you just have to laugh about!

One Monday, not long after the bathroom incident, I was thinking about Jennifer. The thought came to me that although Jennifer's body, and perhaps even mind, are diseased, her spirit is not. I asked God, "does that mean her spirit is confined by her body but able to connect with you?" And then I asked the most important question yet. "God will you help me to see her the way you do, will you help me to connect to her spirit? Show me what you see." And he did. I began to feel a strong love for Jennifer, I wanted to protect and include her. I wanted to honor her as an adult and not treat her as a child. I wanted to know her, as best I could.

God led me to the passage in 1 Corinthians 12 about the body, a passage I had never completely understood. Sure I understood the analogy of the church being one body made up of many parts. It was this concept I had never understood: "But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be...those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it."

God had answered my why. Jennifer, and the specific needs that come with her, had been placed in the church body as much for it's health as for hers. Her very presence was an opportunity for us to see her, to love her like Jesus, we would be better for it. I never saw anyone be rude or unkind to Jennifer, but very few people treated her as indispensable, with special honor and modest protection. Jennifer has a role to play in the body that is indispensable, she tethers us to God's compassionate heart, her life insists we use God vision, she forces us to offer mother bear protection. "God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be." In many ways I've come to view Jennifer as more important than the "important" people.

When God opened my heart to really see Jennifer, to push past the barrier of her body and connect to her spirit, I found a sister. I know Jennifer loves me and I love her, and because I was looking I've seen her beauty. My family has since moved away and I miss Jennifer but she is someone I will never forget. Jennifer is a woman that inspires me, God has used her to teach me about his great heart and I'm honored.

How do you respond when you meet someone with special needs or challenges? I understand it can be uncomfortable but I hope you will take the opportunity to look past their limitations and into their heart. Ask God to show you their beauty, but don't expect to see it unless you believe it exists. I would love to hear from you! Who is someone that has unexpectedly inspired you?

Servanthood

I have to confess I struggle a lot with living the life of a servant. Anyone else with me in this struggle? I have this amazing knack to turn absolutely anything into something about me, just ask my husband, even when it's not. God has been teaching me lately that he is always at work and I have an open invitation to join him. The catch is that I have to adjust my life to fit his plans to join that work. I also have to join him as a servant. Ouch, that hurts my pride more than I realized. Isn't that ridiculous, as if I know better than the Almighty, ever existing God of the universe. The God who tells Job, "Everything under heaven is mine"! Honestly I think my problem is that I want recognition, I think it's a sickness inherited generationally, probably all the way back from the original parents in Eden. As if I think one prayer I pray, one kindness done, one truth told could have any effect without Jesus infusing each act with his power. I think for a few days that I'm chugging along great, loving Jesus, ingesting his word, sitting at his feet and then bam I trip over my own pride. I get a bloody nose and scraped hands to remind me he's the parent, I'm the child; he's the leader, I'm the follower; he's the source, I'm the receiver. His faithfulness once again relied upon and needed, I'm thankful. Will it always be this way? I hope my journey begins resembling a train ride in a steady direction instead of a jolting roller coaster, I don't like roller coasters. I know I'm just like Peter, if I kept my eyes locked firmly on Jesus I could glide across the water, but more often than not I notice the waves and splash. And if my eyes stayed on Jesus what would I see? The perfect Servant; humble, gentle, faithful.

"Your attitude should be the same that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not demand and cling to his rights as God. He made himself nothing; he took the humble position of a slave and appeared in human form. And in human form he obediently humbled himself even further by dying a criminal's death on a cross. Because of this, God raised him up to the heights of heaven and gave him a name that is above every other name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Philippians 2:5-11

Enough

I've been reading through a favorite book of mine lately, "Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ". Actually I'm using it in the teen girls life group I lead. It had a profound impact on me a few years ago when I first read it and it is blessing me as I read it again. In this book, John Piper says that "Seeing and savoring [the glory of Jesus] is the goal of our salvation." He says that Christ is glorious so that we can be satisfied, nothing less than his glory will do. I must confess that all too often I think I would be satisfied with far less. I long for, reach for, pursue things that can't and don't satisfy. My heart is restless and that is because it is not at rest in him. Why, why, why can't I get it right. Why do I learn this lesson over and over again. One of my favorite hymns is Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, in it is the line "Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee." I so feel that way, his goodness is compelling but truly unless he chains me to himself I will wander. I know that any good in my life has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. If his love didn't pursue me, if I wasn't the object of his affection I wouldn't, couldn't love him on my own.

In my ladies Bible study this week we were in Hebrews chapter 11. What a fabulous chapter that is; a list of prostitutes and murderers, liars and fools turned into a list of the most faithful. I'm embarrassed to say that as a girl I had illusions of a faith that would go down in history, I was going to do great deeds and if I was lucky maybe even be martyred, I would inspire thousands and be heroic in all that I did for Jesus. Oh my. Now my desire is to have a faith that works and gets me and my obscure little life from here to eternity. I mostly don't want it to give out along the way and I would be thrilled if it actually grew in the process. The longer I live and the more I see of Jesus the more aware I am that I'm wretched and the more wretched I am the more I know I need him. And I'm glad I need him, I'm glad it's all about him and not about me, what a relief.

I've felt my far awayness from home so much lately. Both my earthly and eternal home. The more I miss my physical home the more I realize that nothing, NOTHING, NOTHING, satisfies but Jesus. Living in Cody is an almost daily sacrifice and a laying down my life for him. The loss I feel from not being close to family is deep. But then I come back to the faith that all will be restored in eternity. I don't know how he'll do it but I believe he will restore all that has been lost. How else can broken people live in this world with any hope at all. But then, you know even if it wasn't restored it doesn't matter. After all he's God and I need him, he can ask what ever he wants of me, he has the right. That he shares with me his glory, his love, his character, his thoughts, his son is enough.