Author Archives: Karla Jo Wasion

I love Jesus and His Church. His Word is Truth, His heart is good, and His return is sure.

Rejoicing With Envy

Elizabeth gave birth to a long prayed for son who would become known as John the Baptizer. And Luke tells us in his gospel that “her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her his great mercy, and they rejoiced with her.” – Luke 1:58

And I wondered.

Among the rejoicers were there also women feeling the emptiness of their womb and prayers that went unanswered? Husbands, happy for Zechariah, while wondering why he was the lucky one, as they felt helpless for their own wifes’ maternal longings?

Weddings. Births. Healings. Financial or material gain. The list is long and it creates a space where “good for them” and “why not me” battle it out for front row seats, while we ignore it or shove it down with a piece of cake and a smile that hides the truth.

What if we chose sanctification instead? Put ourselves on the altar and let Him bring our envious heart into the light so that we can see the damage it’s done.

A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot. – Proverbs 14:30

“But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic… – James 3:14-16.

“Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” – Galatians 5:19-21

We just can’t continue to ignore our own envy—that stuff is dangerous on every level. Instead, I pray we will become so quick to repent when we see it, and ask God to heal our heart of what has wounded it.

Because we know He’s a good Father, and everything we need. We know He does not overlook us. We are loved, cared for, and safe in His hands.

Lord, teach us to rejoice without envy.

Marriage Matters—What Have You Learned?

“Lord, what have I learned about marriage over all these years?”

Loaded question potential right there.

His answer could be either “not nearly enough” or “quite a lot.” But what I heard back wasn’t either of those answers.

The question isn’t “how much have you learned”, but “how much do you obey what you’ve learned?”

*head goes back* Ugh.

Fine. But for the purpose of this blog post, I’m going to stick to what I’ve learned and we can all just assume I don’t always have stellar follow through. Fair?

And He said to all, “If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. (Luke 9:23)

Self-denial is the life of a Christian, but it is practiced most vigorously in the context of marriage. In the beginning it doesn’t really feel like dying, you know? When all you want is the happiness of this wonderful creature who now shares your bathroom. And then.

One day you realize they are insanely messy with no rhyme or reason to the way they live their life on the daily, and have an “I’ll get to it when I get to it” code for life. They never turn off lights, have the sleep schedule of a toddler, prefer to talk in partial sentences and let you figure out the rest, and would live on “something snacky” if you let them. And if you tell them they can’t do something it’s a sure thing they’ll do that thing, even if they don’t really want to do that thing. Because, don’t tell them what to do. Besides all that, what makes them laugh one day makes them cry the next day, and you don’t know what day it is, ever (all of that is me, by the way. all me.).

Those are the more lighthearted things my husband has learned about me. There are more, less lighthearted, that we’ve both learned about one another. Things that broke us. Hurt us. Almost ended us.

And this is where the dying begins in earnest. Where the forgiveness, grace, humility, and bearing with one another that the bible talks about becomes the fork in the road. Follow Jesus, or do it our own way. One brings life, the other brings death.

Marriage has taught me how to be kind when I don’t want to be kind. How to swallow my pride and apologize for my snarky tone of voice that they clearly deserved. How to forgive even the egregious, because I was forgiven by Jesus and have no other leg to stand on.

The statement “marriage is hard” is such an understatement. But so is “marriage is good.” Both are true at the very same time, because while we make it hard, God made it good.

Every lesson I’ve learned about following Jesus, I’ve learned in the context of marriage. And one of the most shameful things I discovered is that I was a way better Christian to other people than I was to my husband. Oof. That was hard to admit, but I know I am not the only one who can say it and hopefully by going first, someone else will find the courage to admit it so that it can change.

God has taught me more through marriage than I could ever convey on this page. Surprisingly, or maybe not, is that He has used marriage to teach me more about Himself than about me, or my husband. I’ve learned that He is everything I need. That He is so very good. Faithful. Patient. Full of grace and generous with compassion, and powerful enough to change hearts and minds that we could never have changed on our own.

Think about it…

? What is the hardest thing you’ve learned through marriage?

? What is the best thing you’ve learned through marriage?

? How are you doing at obeying what you’ve learned?

Exodus 20—The Hardest One of All

I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. You shall have no other gods before Me.

I don’t know if the ten commandments are in order of importance or not, but I do think it says something that the very first onetold them (and us) to put nothing—and no one— before Him. No other “god” was to command their allegiance, worship, or obedience.

And then He told them why.

Because He is the one who defeated their enemy and saved them from slavery. No other god did that.

And He knew them. He knew they would need something to show them right from wrong, something that would prove their rebellious nature, so He gave them the Law. Commands He knew they would not be able to obey. And because He knew they would fall, He gave them a way to come back to Him, a way to atone and be right with Him again. And again, and again, through the sacrifice of an innocent animal.

The Old Testament is the story of a people loved and rescued by God who then continually strayed from Him. We don’t read of their habitual lying about their neighbor or wishing they could have someone else’s stuff. The story isn’t replete with people dishonoring their parents on the regular or stealing someone’s donkey.

Instead, we discover that remaining faithful to God was their number one hard thing.

There are a thousand more words I could write, but I think we can all come to our own conclusions about the similarities between us and the first ones called God’s people. So rather than a bunch of statements, I’m going to ask all of us a few questions.

? Is there anything that has slipped into the position of “first” in my life? Anything that is challenging my faithfulness to God and to His Word?

? Are there other “gods” that have become acceptable to me? The pursuit of money or fame (likes, follows, a stage). The obsession with anything, including self, that isn’t God. The desire to keep up with the crowd. The push or urge to do things my way, to control the outcome, to make it work apart from complete dependence, or waiting, on God.

? Do I look at or to myself more than God?

Questions not to be asked lightly or rushed through. And maybe the better thing is to simply sit with the Holy Spirit and ask Him to reveal the answers, to lead us to repentance, and back to full and humble submission to the Lord our God, who loved us and freed us from slavery.

The View From My Comfort

I’ve been sitting here looking out my window and thinking how pretty it looks out there. Everything is green, the skies are clear, and there’s a slight breeze that moves the leaves on the tree in the prettiest way. But I live in Texas and this is July, so I know the truth. Outside of my air-conditioned comfort zone it is hot and muggy, and within minutes I will want to go back inside, because the view of something and the experience of that same thing are often very different.

From my window, I can see the homes of my neighbors and it looks like most streets in middle-class suburbia. But the reality is that behind the walls of the majority of those homes, there is suffering taking place. Illness. Broken relationships. Financial stress. Depression. Suicidal thoughts. For all of us, what is seen on the outside rarely reveals what is on the inside.

As these thoughts creeped in, I thought of what we see when our view is of Jesus, through the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

The man with leprosy (Mark 1:40–45). The paralytic lowered through the roof (Mark 2:1–12). The woman with the issue of blood (Mark 5:25–34). Jairus (synagogue leader) and his daughter (Mark 5:21–43). The Gadarene demoniac (Mark 5:1–20). The centurion (and his servant) (Matthew 8:5–13). The blind men (including Bartimaeus) (Mark 10:46–52). The ten lepers (Luke 17:11–19). The widow of Nain (Luke 7:11–17). The crippled woman in the synagogue (Luke 13:10–17).

In all of these, Jesus viewed no suffering from a distance or from a place of comfort. He didn’t send up thoughts or prayers, or put a check in the mail. Instead, He touched the suffering, wept with them, spoke to them and comforted them face to face.

And one day He said this to His disciples – “If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also.” (John 12:26)

We all live in places where there is suffering, and it isn’t limited to the poor or the homeless. In this fallen world suffering comes to both the sick and the poor and the healthy and the wealty. It is no repecter of persons, and we live among them all, carrying His presence with us.

The question is, are we looking at them from our places of comfort, or from our willingness to reach out and touch them? To get face to face with them, sit in it with them, weep with them, share the love of the Father with them?

This is what makes us followers of Christ. This is what makes us missionaries. Not that we went across the world, but that we touched the suffering around us with the love, compassion, and power of Jesus.

Jesus didn’t have these encounters every day. Many times we read of Him sitting in a boat or in the synagogue, teaching. Sometimes He was just with His disciples and sometimes He went off on His own to be with His Father in prayer. All of this was the ministry of the Messiah, and as He went, He encountered the suffering of humanity and He touched it.

When you think of the scriptures and how they describe Jesus, what word comes to mind? For me, it’s compassion. He was filled with compassion, moved with compassion, and acted out of compassion. He showed compassion far more than He showed empathy. The difference is empathy feels, compassion acts.

We are called to serve Him by following Him. If we are going to do that, we cannot continue to just have a view of the world from our place of comfort.

Father, move us from our complacency, from our love of comfort. Give us the heart to desire to touch those who are suffering around us. Give us compassion more than empathy. I pray that You will make my own comfort zone uncomfortable, and that You will give me face to face encounters with those around me who need Your love and compassion.

His Disciple: Sometimes We Just Don’t Get It

For instance, the story of Lazarus told in John, chapter 11. Every point the disciples made in this story was wrong, but I learned a few things from them.

Jesus said “Let us go back to Judea” when He heard about Lazarus being sick (actually, three days later). The disciples argued that people tried to kill Him in Judea. Jesus responded with words that can sound confusing to us, but basically mean that there’s only so much time to do the work we are called to do, so don’t waste it being afraid. (that’s my take on it. You may have a different interpretation. If you’re feeling angsty about it, go with yours.)

Don’t waste Kingdom time on earthly fears.

Then He told them that Lazarus had fallen asleep. He meant Lazarus had died, but the disciples, bless their hearts, thought He meant their friend was napping, like a sick man would do. Because, as was so often the case, Jesus had a spiritual perspective while His disciples had an earthly perspective, and man, doesn’t that sound just like us?

Where we fix our eyes will give us our perspective.

Thomas said “Let us also go, that we may die with Him.” His assumption was based on common sense – that if they returned to Judea, Jesus would be killed and so would His followers. Thomas was there for it, so, wow. Good on him. On one deep space level, Thomas had it right. Jesus did eventually go to His death, and called us to follow Him in doing likewise by taking up our cross every day. But practically speaking, Thomas made an assumption because he had no idea what Jesus’ mission was actually about. It made sense to him that going back to Judea would end in death.

Common sense can keep us from trusting God.

Mary & Martha both said to Jesus, “if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” They judged His heart according to their pain. He was the same Jesus they had been following, serving, and loving. But because their lives had just changed, they assumed He had changed.

We are not the lens for the goodness of God. We cannot use our circumstances or our pain to judge His heart.

“Take away the stone.”

“Lazarus come out.”

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

Beautiful words that reveal the greater thing that Jesus was doing that His disciples couldn’t see.

Just because we can’t see what He’s doing, doesn’t mean He isn’t doing something good.

Those early ones are our mirror and today they show us that sometimes, we just don’t get it. But we are growing, just like they grew. Learning where to put our gaze, learning to trust Him more, follow more closely, and become more like Him and less like us.

And one day, we will see Him face to face, and we’ll get it. It will be the best. day. ever.

I Feel Old. And Weird. And Hopeful.

No forethought, really, just letting my fingers type my thoughts.

For awhile I couldn’t really tell that I was getting old, unless I consulted my physical body, which always seemed delighted to tell me the truth about my lost youth. My body and I are no longer on speaking terms.

But now. I don’t know. I feel it deeper than just physically.

When I look at the world around me and what has happened just over the last decade or so, I feel like someone from another time, finding myself in a world that has shape shifted into something I don’t recognize.

Strange people protesting strange things.

Everywhere I look someone is offended at someone or something.

Why does who I voted for offend you? I mean, when did that become a thing?

How can it be a debate that we don’t let children decide their gender?

How does it take legislation to prevent doctors from mutilating a child’s body for the sake of a delusion that is actually a mental illness?

How are we a society that now fights to keep parents from having the authority to not go along with their child’s desire to be something that, genetically, they are not and odds are they won’t desire in a few years?

I mean, when did we, as a culture, start going after the children – the ones who need our protection the most? I know it’s always been a thing, evil targeting kids, but when did it become something that people are ok publically fighting for rather than against? How did that even happen? When did America lose its mind?

When did we start applauding violence toward people and their property simply because they don’t agree with us? And oh my gosh, when and how did it become ok to spit in the face of anyone, much less a police officer? When did our respect for all authority get flushed down a toilet? I understand that corruption exists, and it makes us angry, and I am all for the right and responsiblity to protest corruption and injustice. But what’s happening right now feels different. Demonic. Lawless. Complete and utter rebellion, and a society that accepts it and even applauds it.

How on earth did we get here?

I feel the oldness now. Not just in my body, but in my soul. Like I slept too long and woke up in a foreign place. Unable to find my way around, because nothing is familiar. It feels like a tsmanami that just keeps coming, destroying everything with a darkness that is palpable.

But yes. I know the ending. I know God remains enthroned above the circle of the earth and He raises nations and kings and He brings them down and all of this must take place before the end comes and Jesus returns in glory.

Honestly, if I didn’t know all that, there are days when I don’t think I would have any desire to continue living on this earth. Thankfully, I do know all that.

But still the thoughts come. The grieving comes. Because my grandchildren are growing up in this world that has gone awry. In a world where truth is subjective and morality isn’t really a thing and people are buck naked crazy but everyone pretends they aren’t.

It makes me feel not just old, but almost helpless. Except.

I know the One enthroned. He inclines His ear to me. He moves me to prayer and to believe that my voice matters more in heaven than it does on earth. So I pray for the little ones who carry the future of this place that is so strange to me now.

I pray they will be awakened from the slumber that has come upon this land and its people, and that they will recognize truth from lie. That they will shake off offense and fear and the lure of the carnal, and choose to take up sword and shield and fight a spiritual battle that matters more than any other war being fought by men. That they will know the urgency of the gospel and that it is far more important than what a government is doing or not doing.

I pray for a generation of children to know the light, carry the light, and live in the light of Christ for the sake of a lost world. That they will have the spiritual maturity, even at a young age, to resist the pull of this world and keep their feet firmly planted on the Word of God. I pray for rescuers, not to rescue a country, but to rescue souls from eternal darkness.

I may feel old, but in my spirit there remains a hope that still feels young. Fresh. Alive. I am learning to embrace both. To be ok with weirdness and with the passing of time, as I remain full of hope and full of prayer.

Thanks for listening. Maybe you feel some of these things as well? Maybe you disagree with every word of it, except the part that I may be weird. That’s ok. You are entitled to your opinion, and I’m not offended by it. See how easy that is?

His Disciple—They Went

“These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Do not go among the Gentiles or enter any town of the Samaritans. Go rather to the lost sheep of Israel.  As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.” – Matthew 10:5-8

They were to go without His physical presence with them, but with His authority and power on them. He told them where to go and where not to go. What to say, what to do. In other words, He sent them with His purpose and strategy not theirs.

And once again He reminds me that I do not call the shots for my life. I am not the decision maker in this relationship.

“Do not get any gold or silver or copper to take with you in your belts— no bag for the journey or extra shirt or sandals or a staff, for the worker is worth his keep.” (vs. 9-10) 

He allowed them no means to provide for themselves and it would be their first lesson in trusting the One who sent them out.

“If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet.” (v. 14) 

Don’t spend breath and time trying to make someone listen to you. Just go. Move on. I wonder if that was as hard for them as it is for us. To just walk away from someone who isn’t ready to repent, instead of trying to convince them to accept something they don’t want.

We are a people called to carry a message to the world. But we are not a people called to try to convince the world to believe and receive our message. Neither are we called to dress the gospel up or dress it down, to cover it in soft sounding language and prime it with the best songs and lights and coffee in the lobby. I’m not saying having coffee for people is wrong. I’m not a monster. I’m just saying that, in so many ways, what we are doing today looks very different than it looked then and I don’t know if that’s such a good thing.

“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues. On My account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles.” (vs. 16-18)

He didn’t sugarcoat it for them. Didn’t frame it as a great adventure. He told them the truth—this was going to be hard. Dangerous. They were being sent out on mission with the authority and power of Jesus on them, and a mandate to preach the gospel, heal the sick, and cast out demons. And, with a promise of suffering.

So they went. Perhaps that is the most surprising thing of all. They chose to trust and obey and they just went. The simplicity of it is stark in comparison to our months and months of trainings and preparations and fund raising and our “let me pray about it” mentality. (Yes, yes, in our world today all of that feels so necessary, and practically speaking it is, I get that. But don’t you just long for the early days? The days when trust was literally all they had?)

They were His disciples, and He said go, so they just went.

Father, break us free from ourselves and our propensity to run with our own plans and to complicate the mess out of what You’ve called us to do. May it be said of us, in this time, that we just went, because You said go and we had learned to trust You.