Author Archives: Karla Jo Wasion

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

uncomfortable goodness

The goodness of God makes me uncomfortable. Suddenly, the desires of my heart are being met and I discover a new fear hiding within me. Every few days it crawls out of the deep place in my heart and stops me mid-dance, whispering that God’s goodness is not free. Not for me. Convincing me that there must be a catch. There must be a hard lesson coming.

God is good. His word proclaims it, and my life proves it. So what is this fear that kicks at my feet while I’m dancing for joy? Why am I waiting for the door to slam? Why would God be this good to me? There. That’s the real question slamming against the sides of my brain. Why, God?

Maybe I had prayed enough, repented enough, been kind enough to strangers. Maybe I really was good enough to earn the favor of God. Or maybe my pride is quickly sucking up all the oxygen in the room. Stupid theory #1 was quickly abandoned.

So here I sit in God’s goodness and I’m squirming with a sort of weird discomfort. Because I can’t find the reason. And I can’t find the reason that I need a reason. It’s all quite maddening. And this exposure of my heart is like a fly that continually dive bombs a really good nap. I’m trying to enjoy this goodness (before it disappears?), but my heart is naked again and I want to yell at God to stop doing this to me.

Because I’ve been here before – heart exposed to the One who formed it. Light goes deep and I remember long ago mouthing the words uttered by King David,  “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” This exposure is what I had asked of my ever faithful God, because my own heart was as much as mystery to me as His. And cleansing doesn’t happen to hidden things.

In my discomfort I asked “Why are You being so good to me?”.

In His cleansing He asked His own question. “To whom are you comparing Me?” Light comes far too swiftly for dark to get out of the way.

I live in a world where, just like love, goodness needs a reason. It is a cynical, un-trusting world, and while I am in it but not of it, sometimes I view God through it. Which is a blame-the-world way to say that I am often cynical and untrusting toward God.

The fear, the questions, the wondering…all of the discomfort once again comes back to one thing. What do I really believe about God?

Somewhere from the back of my mind I hear a familiar refrain: “If something seems to be too good to be true, it probably isn’t true.”

And so I return to my place of refuge. In this place, He will speak truth and the lies will bow down. My exposed heart will be comforted and cleansed.

“Then Moses said, ‘Now show me your glory.’ And the Lord said, ‘I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you…'” (Exodus 33:18-19)

Moses wanted to see My glory. I answered by showing Him My goodness. Goodness is not something I do, it is who I am.

“They will tell of the power of your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds. They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” (Psalm 145:6-7)

My goodness is not meager. Not doled out in drips.  It is abundant, poured out, celebration worthy goodness.

“You are good, and what you do is good.” (Psalm 119:68)

I am good and I do not change, and my goodness extends to everything I do. It is not tied to circumstance. I will not be good today, and not good tomorrow. Your circumstances may change. Storms will invade your life. Trials will come. Difficulties will arise. You dwell in a fallen world, but I am not a fallen God. No matter what happens, I will still be good. To you.

“I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me.” (Proverbs 8:17)

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jeremiah 29:13)

My goodness is not trickery, nor is it fickle. It is a part of the promise. When you seek Me, you find Me. When you find Me, you find My goodness. 

In utter desperation I have sought God…and found the only thing that is not too good to be true. Abundant goodness. Worth celebrating. Worth proclaiming.

“I will sing to the Lord,
for He has been good to me.”

To me. Because He is God. Because He is good.

an epic journey begins

To say that I am on a journey with God just doesn’t do justice to what is happening in my life, so I think I need to add the word “epic” in there. I have sat down at this computer numerous time to attempt to write a blog post about this epic-ness, and came up empty every time. Maybe this time I will find my words.

Two years ago, I turned 50, and asked something of God. My exact words, echoed by my husband, were “Lord, I want the second half to count. I want the second half of my life to be about Your Kingdom.” God would later stun me with these exact words.

A couple of years ago I looked up from my life to discover both of my kids had moved to Texas. My husband and I both entered into an emotional turmoil of sorts. We were sad, and missed them deeply, while at the same time being overjoyed at what God was doing in their lives. And while I would have packed up and headed south in a New York minute (not sure what that means…are minutes in NY shorter than in Illinois?), my husband was not keen on living “2 blocks from hell”, referring to the heat of Texas.

We listened as our children told us about their lives in Waco, and we both wept and marveled at what God was doing in and through them. They were both being transformed as a result of their “yes” to Him. He placed them in a community of believers like none I have ever seen, and I soon realized that they were learning to follow Jesus in a way that made me yearn for more of Him. The desire to relocate grew in my heart, not just to be with my kids, but to experience what God was doing in them.

Fast forward to a few months ago, when God spoke one word to my husband – “Pack”. We wrestled with it a bit, and then decided to do what we believed God wanted us to do. We began to pack. It took some time, and some confirmations on God’s part, but we eventually realized He was moving us to Waco. One of those confirmations stunned both of us. My husband had been asked to come to a little church and speak for 5 minutes about his ministry to the homeless. The church had two services, so we stayed for the sermon so he could speak at the second service. We did not know the pastor of this church, and he didn’t know us. His sermon was about getting free from debt, and in the middle of it he said these words – “Some of you are in your 50’s, your children are gone, and you are wanting the second half of your lives to count.” The very words we had spoken two years prior. We both felt the reverberations of God’s voice in our hearts. It was at that little church, during that sermon, that God asked my husband if he was willing to take a leap of faith. He was scared, but he said yes. Emotional turmoil just went turbo.

We have lived in Illinois for 27 years, in this house for the past 12 years, have attended the same church for 19 years, and my husband has been extensively  involved in a homeless ministry for 7 years. The roots are deep here. Suddenly, packing up our lives and heading south felt overwhelming, sad, fantastic and adventurous all at the same time, and when you’ve crossed the threshold of 50, that many emotions are hard to manage.

Oh, but I’m not done with the setup yet. In May, my daughter returned to Texas from an 8 month trip to Uganda, releasing me from a tension and anxiety I had been unaware was living in my heart. I would not get to see or hug her though, until June 6th when my husband and I arrived for my son’s wedding. Yes…my son got married on June 9th, so now we’ve added a brand new mix of emotions into an already emotionally overloaded heart. Overjoyed to see my daughter, thrilled for my son and his new bride, sad that the mother/son relationship is changing, proud as can be of the man that used to be my little boy, so very happy to be adding a wonderful woman of God into our family, giddy and scared to be moving to Texas, and so darn weepy over everything. Mind you, our house in Illinois is packed, and we sold off a lot of our stuff in a garage sale…but we have no place to live and no jobs in Waco. We are leaping.

My daughter and I returned to Illinois on June 10th, while my husband remained in Waco to look around at places to live and job opportunities. He returned a couple of days ago, having found us a house to rent that is way beyond what either of us expected, with a move-in date of no later than July 19th. But we still have no jobs.  We are in mid-air, too committed to the leap to turn around and reach for the familiarity of solid ground.

Throughout this whole process, God has been good, and utterly faithful. And that really is the point of this blog post. Because right here, in mid-air, He has chosen to encounter my heart. His goodness has revealed something that surprised me (as the contents of my own heart usually do).

The goodness of God makes me uncomfortable.

my etch-a-sketch life

1 Chronicles 28:1-9

The gathering was massive. Thousands of men had been summoned to listen to their king.  As I often like to do, I placed myself among them to hear and see as they did. I was among men who loved, served and fought for this man, King David. If you are at all patriotic, you can imagine with me the atmosphere of this gathering. So I listened, but soon I was no longer back there, so long ago. I am right here, right now and my heart is hearing what it needs to hear.

“I had it in my heart to build a house as a place of rest for the ark of the covenant of the LORD, for the footstool of our God, and I made plans to build it.  But God said to me, ‘You are not to build a house for my Name…”

What will I do? How will I respond when the picture I had for my life changes? How hard will it be for me when the plans I’ve made get scrapped?

What if…

I don’t get to live comfortably, surrounded by pretty things and signs of financial success?

I never get to write that book, build that ministry, retire with a nest egg, retire at all, play that stage, get that job, have that child or find that spouse?

What if life suddenly looks different than I thought it would?

What if my identity in Christ and my eternal destination…all of the spiritual truths concerning me and my life, are the only things that are unchanging? What if everything else is in an etch-a-sketch?

(What if I discover that I often get those two confused?)

How tightly I grip the plans that lie in my own heart may determine my reaction when God ditches them for the plan in His heart.

A number of years ago, God shook my etch-a-sketch life and it exposed my heart. Fear. Pride. Self-reliance Self-everything. Unbelief. Anger. All there, hidden beneath my plans and my piety. God was ditching my plan for His, and the process was painful. God wasn’t hurting me, it was my response to the change in plans that brought the pain. I cried, I grieved, I kicked and I pouted, and I gave in to fear many times throughout the process. I struggled to believe that what God was doing could be good, let alone better than what I wanted. As it turned out, I could not have been more wrong.

That kind of shaking can also expose a person’s true perspective of God. We may discover that we really believe Him to be angry, or at least very stern, and always looking for a reason to bring some painful discipline our way to teach us a lesson. That He is, at a minimum, very disappointed in us.

What if God shakes away our plans, not only because He has something better, but because He is going after something deadly in us? What if what God delights in is not teaching us a lesson, but us? 

God once again has His hand on my etch-a-sketch life. How will I respond this time? What if I choose to believe what is written in stone?

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

What if I loosen my grip, open my hand and let my plans fall out, because He opens His hand to show me scars that say “I love you”?

“The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17)

What if I choose to believe that God has a song and not a whip? That He is delighted, not disappointed?

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1)

What if “fear not” is really possible, because He is mine and I am His?

What if I choose to dance rather than mourn? Sing rather than weep? Trust instead of fear?

“I will make an everlasting covenant with them: I will never stop doing good to them, and I will inspire them to fear me, so that they will never turn away from me.  I will rejoice in doing them good and will assuredly plant them in this land with all my heart and soul.” (Jeremiah 32:40-41)

What if that is God’s heart…written in stone.

blood is in the air

Matthew 27

I stood at a distance with the other women, watching Jesus die. The smell of blood is in the air. Passover lambs being slaughtered and the Lamb of God dying. The law being kept in the shadow of grace flowing from the veins of God.

Blood is in the air and it means something to everyone.

Pilate, you washed your hands of the guilt of killing the innocent. How ironic that the very blood you washed your hands of was the only thing that could have washed away your guilt.

Pharisee, you killed the Lamb of God and then sacrificed your own lamb. You thought that the death of the One secured your prideful position before men, and the death of the other secured your humble position before God. How ironic, Pharisee, that the opposite was true.

Disciples, you left everything to follow, to be with Him. He was Messiah and His coming gave you hope and now He has died and your hope along with Him. Do you see the irony now, disciples? He left everything to be with you and your only hope is in His death.

Blood is in the air and isn’t it ironic? We wash our hands and kill a lamb and find hope in what we can see and touch. Our hands look clean but we ignore our hearts and we make our sacrifice while refusing His. We put our trust in what we see but we are blind.

I watch the rich man put His body in a tomb. Dead. Buried. Those who hated Him sighed relief, those who loved Him wept grief. The lambs were dead and the Lamb was buried. Sins had been taken and punishment given. Pilate sealed the tomb and posted guards and now the Pharisees could rest easy. While Mary weeps at the grave of the One she loves.

Her heart breaks in despair over the same death that makes mine beat with joy. Mary, don’t you know? What good is forgiveness if the grave keeps the Forgiver? Or the forgiven? Stay here, Mary. Watch with me. Because I know that today, blood is in the air.

But soon, that stone will roll out of His way.

And then we will sing…

He took my mourning and turned it into dancing;

He took my weeping and turned it into laughing;

He took my mourning and turned it into dancing;

He took my sadness and turned it into joy!

the full wage

Matthew 27:11-50

I caught glimpses of the disciples’ faces as I imagine them to look. Seeking them out, dispersed among the crowd, I saw their pain and confusion. Suddenly, it was all careening out of control, going way too fast. He had warned them, but they hadn’t understood. Still didn’t. They could only watch and hope that somehow this was all going to end well.  I wish I could tell them what I know of these familiar, far away events.

The pain of that thought stops me, as my eyes turn to my heart. Is that what this has become for me? Familiar? I push my way to the front of the crowd, my eyes searching for His face now. Finding Him, my heart desperately whispers above the shouts of the crowd calling for His death. “Jesus! Is that what You have become to me?” The pain in my heart rushes at me all over again and my eyes spill tears as they look at His. “Is that why I’m here, back at the beginning with You? Searching for unfamiliar?”

So I follow, determined not to lose sight of Him, wanting to see. Not something new but something that has been there all along. Unfamiliar. The whip comes down as His eyes watch me watching. And He is silent.

Our eyes are locked as the thorns cut into His flesh and the spit hits His face. The staff they used to mock Him now comes down upon His head again and again. I want to look away. And He is silent.

I walk with Him up the hill, precious blood already flowing. The noise is deafening as the crowd follows and the nails are driven in. And He is silent. Also deafening.

I find His silence disturbing. Offense, injustice, lies…this scene has it all. Why are You so silent? Why do You not fight back? Why do You not lash out at the ones who are hurting You? Why are You so unlike me?

It grows dark as I watch Him labor to breathe. And then. Finally. The cry erupts from His beaten body. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. I see His eyes. He is watching me watching Him, as though He is willing me to remember.

“…you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die.”

“The wages of sin is death.”  

Death. Separation from God.

The full wage must be paid.

The whip and the nails You took in silence. But the final wage, separation from God, brought forth Your cry and You called it forsaken.

This. This is unfamiliar to me. That I shall never have to know the pain of the one thing that broke Your silence. That the full wage of my sin was more than a crucifixion.

My heart is full, heavy, as I move to the ground beneath where He hangs and I lie down under the crimson flow no longer so familiar.

And He meets me here in this place with one final gift for my aching heart.

“You were worth the full wage.”

He has wrecked familiar.

Thank You, Jesus.

taking the cup

Matthew 26:36-46   Mark 14:32-42   Luke 22:39-46

They were gone now, and the garden was quiet. Jesus had been arrested, His disciples scattered. As for me, I am compelled to remain here, allowing what I had seen and heard to seep into deep places.

His words still hang in the air among the trees…“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.”  

“…not as I will, but as You will.”  As I watched Him, the words echo familiar to me. They have flowed easily from me over the years. “Not my will, but Yours be done!” “I just want God’s will for my life.” “Lord, have Your way!” I see Him there, on the ground and I hear my voice speaking out those words. And I see Him there, on the ground sweating blood and I hear my voice. And somewhere inside of me something is tearing. Something hurts. Something that was hidden in darkness is backing away from the light coming in…but it’s too late.

“The words come easy, but there is no battle being waged for them. You say the words, but when your flesh resists you surrender to defeat. You say the words, because they are part of the Christian vocabulary of magic words spoken because they are the ‘right’ thing to say. You say the words, because you believe that My will looks like your will. You say the words. You want My will but you wants yours too. You say the words and then let the cup pass.”

I followed Him here, and He exposed my heart.

in the dirtEverything in me wants to lay on the ground where He had been, to press my cheek into the dirt still wet with His tears and sweat turned to blood. I want to capture it all, this war between flesh and Spirit, and hold it tightly somewhere inside of me. Because I want it to change me.

I listened as He asked for the last time…”if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me…”. I heard no response. Maybe He did. Maybe His Father spoke words of comfort and strength to Him. Maybe He heard nothing because sometimes the silence of God says everything. Either way, it was done. He took the cup and set His face toward Golgotha. Death for Life. Victory was secured.

I followed Him here and I learned. “Not as I will but as You will” are the words of battle. Jesus didn’t enter Gethsemane and surrender His will so that I wouldn’t have to. He did it so that I could. He overcame so that I could overcome.

Death for life. Not a drink to be sipped. It is a cup to be taken hold of with both hands and swallowed down. It is hard. Agony. Weeping and falling face to the earth in surrender.

It is the prelude to victory.


the things of God

He was in our midst. Listening. Watching. Whispering. None of us saw him there, except Jesus. Jesus heard. Jesus knew. 

“From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that He must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.  Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to You!”  Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to Me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.”

 Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. ” Matthew 16:21-24

We like to wonder. We wonder if Satan knew from the beginning that Jesus’ death would bring about his defeat. I’ve sat in on numerous discussions of wonderings. “No, he couldn’t have known. He is not omniscient.” “He knew. That’s why he was trying to kill Jesus ahead of time, to stop Him from going to the cross.” “He probably knew some things, but he didn’t know the whole plan.” We wonder, and then we move on.

But today I couldn’t move on. I stood there listening to Jesus address the unseen one speaking through Peter. Whether Satan knew the whole plan or not, Jesus had just announced part of it. Satan knew that it was the will and the plan of the Most High God for Jesus to go to Jerusalem, be killed and then be raised to life.

And surely Satan knows that any plan of God’s will not end well for him.

And so I wonder. What has Satan tried to stop in my life? What part of my destiny has he overheard, and whispered “No!”, because he knows that my destiny fulfilled will not be good for him?

How has he tried to convince me that sacrificing myself on behalf of someone else isn’t in my best interest?

How many times have I been persuaded that doing the hard work of dying to my own needs and wants isn’t what God requires?

Dying to self. Loving the the one undeserving of love. Showing mercy instead of judgment. Praying for the one who hurt me. Doing what is right instead of what is easy. Fighting for a relationship I would rather walk away from. Turning the other cheek. Giving when I have little to give. Pushing through when I’d rather give up.  Being open and vulnerable when I would rather hide and self-protect. Believing for the impossible instead of settling for the possible. Choosing brokenness and humility over my pride.

Picking up my cross. Losing my life for Christ.

The things of God and the things of men.

And in the midst of God’s people, there is one who is whispering “No! Never!”.

May I, may we, the Church, learn to discern. And may our voice be heard echoing through the realms of darkness…

“Get behind Me, Satan!”