Karla Jo Wasion

after the car wreck

Yesterday was the worst day so far, since the accident. My husband and I went out to run an errand. I held his hand. In a death grip. With the other hand I held the arm of the door with that same death grip. Throughout the ride I gasped and cringed, even though my husband was driving very carefully, and even describing everything he was doing the whole time, letting me know he saw every car and was very aware of his surroundings. Still, my heart raced.

And I cried. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because this thing has such a grip on me. I cried because I need to get back to my life and that means being in the car, and I can’t. I just can’t.

We arrived back home and I felt utterly defeated. And then we had to turn right back around and go out again, to go to church (we were going to the evening service). It was almost too much for me, but I did it, determined not to cry this time. Instead, I asked Jesus to help me with this fear, got into the car, and made it all the way to church without crying. And that’s where He met me with a revelation that, I think, has changed this game.

It was during worship (don’t EVER underestimate the importance of entering into worship, even when you don’t feel like it). During this song we sang these lyrics:

I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
There is no one like You God
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
No other name be lifted high

And suddenly I knew.

I had exalted my fear. Granted it permission to take over my heart. Played the game like my fear was the biggest, baddest, strongest player on the field. I wrecked my car and now fear was wrecking me. Fear was winning the game. That made me mad.

And so I sang. And my song became a prayer. “I will exalt YOU. No other. YOU. Nothing else has the right to hold my heart above You. Nothing. I lift You high. Higher than the accident. Higher than pain. Higher than guilt. Higher than fear. I exalt You.

The drive home was easier, but I attributed it to the fact that it was dark out, and what I can’t see can’t scare me. (Silly, right? Because what we can’t see is EXACTLY what scares us!) I couldn’t imagine that a few moments in worship that birthed a revelation that birthed a prayer, could work that fast. (My rock hard faith amazes me sometimes.)

So I just have to ask. What about you? Is there something that is being exalted in your heart or in your mind that has no right to be lifted that high?

Is there a fear, anger, an illness, or a disappointment that has become higher than Jesus? How about a desire, a spouse, or a child? A gifting, a calling, even a ministry?

What grips your heart?

Let it be Jesus.

from inside the wreck

The car isn’t moving anymore. I wonder why. I push on the gas pedal, but the car won’t move. My head hurts. I hear voices, someone yelling, someone off to my left is crying/screaming.

A woman is at my window, telling me to stay still, that 911 has been called and I will be ok. My head hurts. I put my hand back there and it comes back bloody. I don’t understand. What happened? I need to get out of this car. That seems suddenly very important to me. I pull the handle and push. Nothing. That door will never open again, from the curious looks of it. How did it get like that? Maybe I can crawl out the other side. Because I need to get out of this car. The lady at my window stops me, tells me I have to stay still. She grabbed a towel from my back seat and is now holding it against the back of my head. I need to call my husband. He will come and get me. I look down and, oddly, my phone is laying on the passenger seat. The nice lady offers to call him for me and I hear her telling him “your wife has been in an accident, you need to get here”.

Sirens. Voices. Blood. Crying off to my left. I am shaking now, uncontrollably. My head hurts.

Bits and pieces of a conversation taking place somewhere outside of my car float into my brain. “I didn’t see it, some guy just ran into the shop and told me I needed to get out here because people were hurt.” “Has 911 been called? Yes?”.

A policeman opens my passenger door and starts going through my purse. Tells me to stay still. Takes my license and disappears. I try to be still, because that’s what everyone keeps telling me. Must be important.

A different lady leans in my passenger window, holding a pair of glasses. Wants to know if they are mine. Yes. “I found them out on the road”. Thank you. She smiled and was gone. My glasses weren’t even scratched.

Through my passenger window I see the back of an ambulance. A man on a stretcher being put in the back. I start crying. Now there’s a man at my driver’s window, replacing the nice lady with the towel. A fireman. And another one…fireman? paramedic?…sitting in my passenger seat holding the towel against my head. The fireman in my window tells me to be still and not to worry, that they need to cut me out of the car and it will be loud but I’ll be ok. Then he put a blanket over my window. My head hurts. But I’m being still.

And then my husband’s face through a window, telling me I’m going to be ok. I wanted him to take me home now. Just get me out of here and let’s go home, ok? I don’t need to go in the ambulance. I don’t need a doctor. The bleeding will stop soon and I will be fine. I just wanna go home now.

They let him sit in the front seat next to me while they cut metal from metal. So loud. The car is rocking as they attempt to remove the curiously smashed door. He is calm, but I know. I saw it in that glimpse of his face. He is calmly scared. And relieved. Because I am moving and bleeding and breathing. Not dead. I felt bad that he had been scared, that he had wondered if his wife was alive as he took the phone call. Wondering still, as he came upon the scene of mangled metal, flashing lights, fire trucks and ambulances. But he was calm for me. He’s good like that.

Finally, the blanket came off and the jack-hammering noise stopped. Finally, I will get to leave this car. A strange contraption goes around my neck and now men are turning me, moving me, out, down, onto a board. Because of the contraption, I can only see straight up. The face of my son and my daughter-in-law come into view, with that same calmly scared look. And then a stranger’s face looking down at me saying “You’re going to be fine. We are praying for you.”. And then he was gone. Just a man who drove up on the crash. And began praying.

Into the ambulance. Lots of talking. Medical speak…letters and number I couldn’t understand. And questions. Medications? None. Allergies? I can’t have the dye for cat scans. Make sure they don’t give me that, ok?

Blood pressure cuff. Way too tight, it hurts my arm. Then, “blood pressure is 187 over 112. Ma’am do you have a history of high blood pressure?” “Sort of, yes.” Flurry of motion and this man wins a medal for quickest IV insertion EVER. One, two, done, taped down and everything. I was impressed. But my head hurt so I didn’t tell him. I think I should have told him.

Hospital. Scans, x-rays, pokes and prods. Head still hurts. My son, daughter-in-law and husband all in the room. Husband and son cracking jokes, making me laugh. Because that’s how we roll. We roll through most things laughing all the way. Daughter had not yet been reached at work. (She came to sit with me later that night at home, bearing grocery bags of food and treats and her runs-in-the-family sense of humor that made my head hurt less.)

I asked about the people in the other car. “No one has any life threatening injuries”. Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless and I am grateful for it.

Blood pressure down. Scans and x-rays, pokes and prods all show minimal damage. A two and a half inch gash in the back of my head. Nothing a staple gun can’t fix. Bam, bam…six staples just like that, after being assured by the carpenter/doctor that numbing it would hurt as much as the staples, so we may as well just get to stapling. Bruises, abrasions, soreness, a concussion and quite the headache. But I’m not dead, something that seemed surprising, at least to those who had seen my car.

The accident happened last Saturday, October 6, 2012. I still don’t know what happened, other than my car was broadsided by another car that, if going only the speed the limit, was travelling at least 45 miles an hour. I had gotten gas, and was waiting for traffic to clear so I could pull out and head home. I needed to cross two lanes of northbound traffic, and a center turn lane, so that I could go left (south). Two cars were coming from my left. They passed. I pulled out, crossed over the northbound lanes into the center turn lane.

And then a lady was at my window telling me to stay still, that 911 had been called.

And now I don’t want to drive a car again. Or ride in a car. Or leave my house. But I will. I will do all of those things, because I know God.

I know He will remind me that life is worth the risk of living it out in the open. Where I am in control of nothing. Where bad things can happen, but good things too.

He will remind me that because He is with me, Love is always there, even when I am bleeding and don’t know why.

Love will be there, holding a towel to my head, saying, “be still, you’ll be ok”.

Love will be there, getting out of their car to pray for the strangers in the twisted metal.

Love will be there, sitting in the front seat with me, holding my hand, calmly scared but telling me I will be ok.

He will remind me that I am His and He is in control and life is fragile so live it with care.

This experience will matter. It will change something. Because I know God.

He uses everything, and wastes nothing.

my heart in the song

I recently experienced a bit of a traumatic event, which I fully intend to blog about very soon. But it left me fearful and sent me into a seclusion of sorts, even from (especially from) God. So this morning I opened my bible and put on a worship song. And then I was on my knees.

“Here I am, down on my knees again, Surrendering all, Surrendering all…”

I know. I’ve been here before. I thought “all” meant “all” the last time I surrendered all. So I want to apologize for this white flag, but I can’t. I’m too exhausted. Made weak by my own strength. I tried to buck up, suck it up, just move forward and move on. I wanted to be a big girl. A grown up. A warrior. Instead, here I am, down on my knees surrendering all. Again.

“Find me here, Lord as You draw me near, Desperate for You, Desperate for You”

Are You surprised by my desperation? Shouldn’t I be out moving mountains and slaying darkness with confidence? Shouldn’t there be a bible study or sermon that took hold, preventing me from landing in this place, trying to bat away condemnation for being so desperate? For You. The One I have been avoiding, running from for days, maybe longer. Are You surprised, like me, that my desperation is for You?

“Drench my soul, as mercy and grace unfold, I hunger and thirst, I hunger and thirst”

Don’t be thrifty. Not today. I need all You have to give. Mercy. For things done and undone. Said and unsaid. For the second guessing, the what if’s and the why’s. Mercy for the bruises left by my self-loathing. Mix it with Grace. Water that washes it all away, leaving me back on my feet but not far from my knees.

I know. I should be full by now, because You have poured and poured and poured. But this is me. Panting, hands cupped like a beggar. Begging for more. And in the air around me a question hovers – “Why are you here, begging, again?”, and the implication reeks of shame.

Because I hunger. Because I thirst. Because I know that if I come, He will give. Because what He has never runs out.

“With arms stretched wide, I know You hear my cry, Speak to me now, Speak to me now.”

I just need Your voice to say something, anything. Is that ok? Is it ok that my heart is hiding right now, and the only thing that will bring it out is Your voice? Is it ok that all of my desperation, all of my hunger, all of my flag waving on my knees surrender it all again comes down to “speak to me God. Please.”?

And so I heard, finally. Because He had been speaking all along, but my heart had hands over my ears and my eyes shut tight because I have been afraid. But here on my scratchy carpet with the song playing from the little speakers attached to my old computer, the hands came down, and I discovered the real fear. The one I hadn’t named.

“I’m with you.”

Three words that spoke many more.

“I am here, not over there waiting for you to get over it. Peace is here, not around the corner waiting for you stop being afraid. Mercy is here, not over there waiting for you to feel bad enough, sorry enough, or anything enough. Grace is here, not waiting somewhere else for you to get stronger and braver. Love is still here. Right here. I am not mad at you, disappointed in you or finished with you. I am not waiting for you. I am with you.”

Thank You Jesus, for hearing my heart in the song. For knowing what to sing back to me.

“I Surrender” – Hillsong Live

i drank from a garden hose and it doesn’t matter

“One generation will commend Your works to another…”

I am part of the generation who grew up in the 60’s and 70’s. Free love that was never really free. An anti-war generation that rallied for peace while fighting an internal war by escaping down psychedelic rabbit holes.

There is so much that my generation can pass on, and we certainly do try, don’t we? We love talking about how simple life was back then. How different, how much better things were. But this morning I was struck by Psalm 145:4, and I realized that we spend far too much time commending memories that are evidently being remembered through rose colored glasses. Because frankly, many of us who grew up in that era were just messed up.

So here’s the deal. I don’t care if you know that I drank freely from the water hose, and played outside until the streetlights came on. It won’t help you to know that we slept in painted cribs, rode around without seat belts or airbags, or that kids failed entire grades in school because they deserved to fail. I don’t care if you ever know what life was like “back in my day”.

Here is what I want you to know…

God…relentlessly pursued my heart down every rabbit hole, every dark corridor, through every bad choice. He never gave up. He chased me until I was finally broken enough to stop running. Because I am not just a face in the crowd to Him. I am not just an unseen part of “so loved the world”. And neither are you. You are not only loved, you are wanted by the Father who created you. He is the relentless pursuer of your running heart.

God…healed me on the inside. In the unseen places where I was incurably broken, He healed me. I was convinced I had little or no worth. He healed me. I was hurt and I was angry. He healed me. I had been used and discarded. He healed me. Because that’s who He is. Healer. He desires to heal the deep places in you, to convince your heart that you are worth much. Are you going here and there and everywhere trying to find what can put you back together? Are you convinced that nothing will be able to fix what is broken? I commend to you…God. You are not so broken that He cannot make you whole. It’s not too late, you haven’t gone too far, and there is no such thing as too damaged. For man, yes, but not for God. Not for your Healer.

God…gave me purpose. After years of wandering, looking for something I couldn’t define, I was left convinced that there was very little real purpose to my life. I would live and die and neither would have any impact on the earth. But as all of that began to fall away under the love of Jesus, it revealed the truth. I was created on purpose, with purpose, by my Father. My life matters, and so does yours. In knitting you together in your mother’s womb, He wove in the uniqueness that is you, the gift of you. You have giftings, talents that you may or may not be aware exist, but they are there on purpose. And the work of God, the advancement of His Kingdom, the release of captives, the healing of broken people, all of it needs you and your gifting. He has people for you to meet, places for you to go, things for you to do. You, and your life matter. You are you on purpose, with purpose.

God…gave me rest. Removing the shame and guilt that kept me running, He taught me what stillness looks like inside and out. He gave me rest from trying to earn love and worth, from Him or anyone else. Earning is a wearying business is it not? Two steps forward, nine steps back now start all over and there’s no such thing as a truly clean slate. We may have that “so what?” look on the outside, but we’re black and blue on the inside, damage done by our own fists of self-loathing and there aren’t enough Hail Marys to be said. But there is God, and His invitation is not “try harder”, but “come to Me and I will give you rest”. Rest from earning what cannot be earned, but is freely given by Him. He invites us to let our bruises heal, unclench our fists, stop doing penance for what only His blood can take away. And speaking of blood that doesn’t just wipe the slate clean, it destroys the slate all together…speaking of that blood…

God…saved me. I could comprehend that God is good, even loving. But the heart-shocking truth is that He is so good and so loving He sent the innocent to pay for my guilt, giving His Son over to death so that death could be conquered for me. So that the slate that held my record of sins would be forever destroyed, my filthy clothes would be forever removed, so that my forever would be forever changed. God pursued me straight to Golgotha, and there I discovered just how much I was worth to my Father. You are worth no less.

To the generation coming behind me, I commend to you the works of God. Powerful, majestic, fearsome. Kind, loving, merciful. Faithful and unfailing. Pursuer of hearts, Healer of broken, rest for weary. Savior.

I drank from a garden hose.

He loves you so much He died.

Which is worth commending?

the right question

“What do people want?”

It’s a strategy question. Churches, ministries, businesses and lives have been designed around that one question. And that question hides a lot of questions we don’t ask.

What will make us popular? What will make us look good? What will make us bigger? What will make people like us? What will make us the most successful? What will make people approve of us?

People pleasing is rarely about other people, it’s about our obsession with us. We need to change our obsession, so that we change our question.

“What does God want?”

With that question alone burning in our hearts, we can change the world.

The gospel would be preached. Disciples would be made. We would freely give what we have been given – money and time, grace and love. Prayer would be our first strategy. Obedience would be our second.

Whether or not an altar call would offend people would be dead last.

We would rely on God and expect little from people – not the other way around. We would bend to help the fallen rather than bending over backwards to please the upright.

We would rather be pierced by truth than tickled by a lie. And we would want the same for others. The fickleness of the hearts of men would take a backseat to the unchanging heart of God. His strategy would become ours. We would decrease and He would increase. We would put others before ourselves, for the right reason.

Because we asked the right question.

“Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ.” Galatians 1:10

wanted

He calls out. He has always called out. He is the initiator, the pursuer, the One doing the calling, the beckoning, the inviting. Always the inviting.

Return to Me

“You have gone off, in search of other loves. You have wandered from Me, preferring instead things that cannot love you, cannot save you, cannot be Me for you. But I have not forgotten you. Even now, I call for your return. Though you have strayed, though you have turned to idols for comfort, I call for your return. Return to Me, and I will return to you. As the father watches for the prodigal, I watch for you, ready to run to meet you as you come up from the far country. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you. You are Mine. You are loved.”

Come to Me

“Aren’t you tired of striving? Haven’t you wearied yet of your attempts to ‘get it right’? You keep Me at arm’s length because you believe you aren’t yet good enough to come any closer. Who has laid such a burden on you? Who has convinced you that there is a measuring rod called “good enough”? Who has set the yoke upon your neck that forces you to labor for My love? It was not Me. I long to give you rest from all of that. Come to Me, all the way to Me. Don’t stop short. I have no intention of making you crawl or beg. My heart is for you to come with boldness, confident in My love for you. I bled enough blood, there has been enough atonement made for you, enough death was died for you to live. Don’t you see? Enough is done. Just come to Me.”

Seek Me

“Look for Me. I won’t hide from you. I will always let you find Me. You have looked for life among the dead. Seek Me and live. You have looked for what is good in a world that has fallen under the grip of sin, for love in all the wrong places, for compassion among those who are empty, for significance in a shallow world. Seek Me. Your search will not be in vain. In Me you will find everything your heart has been longing to find. Look for Me. I am not hiding. I want to be found by you.”

It has always been this way. He calls to us, always, as in that first, “Where are you?”. With loving kindness He draws us to Himself. With patience, He watches for our return from the far country of our own ways. With gentleness, He beckons us to bend our neck and let the yoke of slavery and striving fall, so that we can rest. And when we seek, and even when we don’t, we find Him. Because love was His idea and we are the objects of love. We are wanted. Always. No matter what rags we are wearing or the stench we carry with us. He wants us. Even if we march to the beat of a drum no one else can hear, He wants us. In our poverty, we are wanted. In our searchings and cravings, broken or whole, we are wanted by the God who created us.

“I loved you first.

First, I loved you.

Nothing has changed.”

Isaiah 44:22; Luke 15:17-20; Matthew 11:28-30; Galatians 5:1; Isaiah 45:19; Isaiah 65:1; Amos 5:4; Jeremiah 29:13; 1John 4:19, and many more.

motivation

Jesus. What would you say about Him? How would you describe the way He lived while He made His dwelling among men? What was He after? Why did He do what He did? Love would be a very good, and correct, answer…but not what I’m going for today.

Because I had an “aha” moment.

“And they sang a new song: “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because You were slain, and with Your blood You purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.” (Revelation 5:9)

So I started thinking. Jesus didn’t die for me. He died because of me. I was purchased for God. His Father. Jesus died because God so loved the world. Jesus died for God, His Father. He lived for His Father, and He died for His Father.

And then I thought some more.

“Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12)

The Father that motivated everything Jesus said and did is also my Father. With me so far? Good. Because right about here I started hearing questions, and things took a hard turn.

Is God the motivation of my life, or am I?

(By the way, this is the part where drawing near to God’s heart begins to burn. Read The Heart That I Want to know what I mean by that.)

When I am offended, is it because God wasn’t glorified, or because I didn’t get a “me” fix? Is it because God wanted that position in the Church? Because God wanted to lead worship that day? Did God need the attention, validation or affirmation that I missed out on? Did God want that invitation that I didn’t get? Am I offended because God didn’t get something that I desperately needed?

I will be offended on a regular basis if I am my biggest motivation.

Do I obey God at all costs, or only when it doesn’t cost much at all? Do I claim “legalism” at true sacrificial living and giving, while I pat myself on the back for not drinking enough to be considered drunk? Is my obedience based on what will make me acceptable to others, or on what truly pleases God?

When my motivation is me, mine is a cheap obedience.

Do I enter into worship because I need to feel that “something” that worship provides? Or do I enter in because my Father is God, and God is to be worshiped? Even if I don’t feel like it. Even if I don’t like the songs being done or the way they’re being done. Even if I’m lonely. Even if I’m hurting. Even if I feel empty, scared, worthless, neglected, dry or just plain tired. God is still worthy of worship. Because worship is not about me. And it’s not about you, so I can just forget about whether or not you’re watching or listening and think I’m spiritual enough or gifted enough or anything enough.

If my worship is based on what I like, how I feel or what I need, then the one I am worshiping is me.

Why do I serve? Why do I love? Why do I forgive? Why do I give?

“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1Samuel 16:7

Motivation. It’s huge. Jesus had only one. His Father.

Can I really be…do I really want to be…that Christlike?

Author Archives: Karla Jo Wasion

after the car wreck

from inside the wreck

my heart in the song

i drank from a garden hose and it doesn’t matter