Category Archives: Blog

from disgrace into grace

rebuilding-the-wallFive women sitting in a living room, taking turns reading from Nehemiah. We are studying that book because in the rebuilding of a wall God can speak much about rebuilding lives. And in that second chapter, starting right there in that 17th verse, something speaks to me.

‘Then I said to them, “You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates have been burned with fire. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and we will no longer be in disgrace.”’

Disgrace. (It rhymes with shame.)

Nehemiah saw his broken city with broken walls, and women see their broken lives in much the same way. And in the time it took to inhale that 17th verse something grabbed hold and won’t let go.

The only way out of disgrace is to step into grace.

And I find myself stepping in, in more ways than one. As I sat on that couch in that circle of women, I had no idea that God was searching something out in me. Something that caught my heart by a painful surprise.

Later that night something was said that pulled a trigger and a dam broke open and disgrace spilled out, and I learned that scar tissue won’t hold a wall together because grace is the mortar of God’s rebuilding.

running awayI discovered, as I tried to stop the flow of pain and tears and years of pent-up shame, that the city walls begin to fall into ruin when a little girl is held to a secret as hands go where hands aren’t supposed to go. Shame makes a little girl feel alone and somehow ‘wrong’, and in her attempts to feel ‘right’ again she runs as hard as she can away from her pain, only to discover she has just been running with her pain. Until one day she falls in a heap. Disgraced.

at the cross

But God. He knew where she would fall and He made sure it was at the feet of Grace.

(Because sometimes the only way out of disgrace is to fall into Grace.)

For days now God has been pulling away scar tissue and putting grace in its place. And for once, I understand His timing. Because the women who are studying Nehemiah are the staff at Grace House. And this is where God has me now, about to step into full-time ministry to women with broken walls. To cities in ruin. And I needed to know that God doesn’t rebuild with scar tissue, but with grace.

faith has to move

chairIt came to me as I stood on the chair, almost cutting off my head in the ceiling fan blades. Maybe not cutting off really, but the thwack of even a dull fan blade would have hurt. Anyway, that’s when it hit me. Right up there on the chair, in my little prayer room, as the woman on my couch looked on with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. And who could blame her? I’d have that look too if I was her and not me.

Faith is moving.

That’s what came to me as I stood on the chair trying to demonstrate trust to the poor woman on my couch. I stood there and pretended to fall back because I need visuals most times and I hoped she appreciated my attempt, awkward as it was. The look on her face never really changed, so I couldn’t tell.

Faith moves, even when we are “being still and knowing that He is God”. Because being still is movement too, I think. It takes a lot of trust to stay very still when you want to hide or get busy fixing this mess. Being still is still falling backward, as long you know that He is God.

trust1Faith is trust and trust falls backward into the waiting arms of God, knowing He will be there. It knows and it falls back and God always catches faith.

Faith reaches for the hem of the garment, falling backward into the Healer’s arms. “Take heart, daughter…your faith has healed you.” 

Faith follows, crying out for mercy the whole way. “Do you believe I can do this?”.  Blind men see because God always catches faith.

Faith steps out onto water and it speaks to mountains and it walks through the fire and all of it is letting go, knowing God won’t drop you.

I listened to the woman on my couch, heard her hard story, and her brand new, shaky, trying-to-believe faith that was keeping the needle out of her arm. As she talked, I could feel myself getting overwhelmed. It felt like that time last year when God said “Pack” and I was looking at 28 years of stuff and thinking there’s not enough boxes on earth and where do I begin?

shooting upSo faith reached for my Bible and He caught me there and said “tell her about love”. Because her life had been just so hard and when someone has been kicked around that much you have to start with the love that died for her before the needle ever left her arm, before she stopped being for sale. She needs to know that we don’t fall backward into anger or disappointment or “shame on you”. It’s love that has arms out to catch us.

And every little movement is faith – the reaching, the leaving, the following, the coming through the roof for your healing. This is the falling, the trusting, the letting go and believing He will catch you and not drop you.

Faith must move.

Because faith that stands still, unable to move, unwilling to even shift its feet? That’s not faith, that’s fear and there will be no falling backward in that. And every so often I have to repeat it to myself, God doesn’t catch what isn’t falling.

Today, let your faith move.

Reach for Him.
           Speak to a mountain.
                      Come through the roof to get your healing.
                                Step out of the boat. 
                                        If you don’t have enough, give anyway.
                                                    Share the gospel.    
                                                         Go.
                                                             Love.

God will catch you.

Matthew 9:22; Matthew 9:28-29; Matthew 14:29; Matthew 17:20; Romans 5:8;

the prayer that changed my prayer

“For this reason I, Paul, the prisoner of Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles—”

This is Paul’s opening to chapter 3 of his letter to the Ephesians. And then he goes off-roading a bit, with the explanation of his calling to preach to the gentiles. This is why we have to connect Paul’s prayer in chapter 3, not to the 12 verses above it, but to the ending verses in chapter 2.

So it would look like this:

“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord.  And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.”

“For this reason I kneel before the Father…”

templeHis language points back to the Old Testament and the building of the temple…the dwelling place for God’s glory.

And then he prayed for power. Power to trust Christ so He could dwell in their hearts. Be at home there. Settle down and ‘dwell fixedly there’. (Vines Expository Dictionary)

He tells them that they are rooted and grounded in love. The words speak of a foundation. The foundation for the gentiles being included into the family of God was love.

{We, you and I, are laid upon that same foundation. Love is why we are His.}

He prayed that God’s power would enable them to grasp the dimensions of Christ’s love, how truly expansive it is, and to know that love.

And I heard God speak to me words that began a quaking in me.

“How wide, high, long and deep was the chasm that sin created between you and Me? I want you to intimately experience the love that poured into that chasm, filling it completely and beyond, until it was a chasm no longer.”

{This grasping has me gasping for air.}

..and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.

gnōsis. It is the general knowledge of the Christian religion.

{Take what you think you know about the love of Christ, throw it as far as you can and see where it lands. His love will go beyond it. That is love that surpasses knowledge. It is beyond what we can know with our minds, no matter how much we investigate and study.}

He LOVES more than we can KNOW.

Power for faith. Power to grasp love. Power to know love.

{Everything needs the power of God. Everything.} 

Why was he praying for all of this?

So that God, and His glory can fill the temple…the Church…you. me.

Paul didn’t pray what he prayed because it sounded good, and maybe had a shot at being answered.

{He prayed what God breathed.}

But it is God’s next breath that has changed my prayer life.

Ephesians3-20-detail-150x150More. IMMEASURABLY more. Exceedingly above and beyond more. More than I can ask. More than I would even consider asking, could imagine asking.

My prayers do not set the boundaries for God. They are not His finish line, they are His starting line.

Ephesians 3:14-21; Ephesians 2:19-22; 2Timothy 3:16

glory

joint

A very broad stroke of the brush would reveal that I spent my teen years running and numbing. Running from…everything, I guess. Reality. Pain. Fear. All of which I numbed with drugs. Way too many drugs at way too young an age.

My 20’s were lived for the moment. I left one marriage and entered into a live-in relationship with very little time in between. People who are desperate to be loved do that sort of thing. Drugs and alcohol flowed abundantly in that decade, because I still wasn’t quite numb enough. That live-in relationship morphed into a marriage with two kids, and on the edge of 30, Jesus rescued me. I didn’t ‘find’ Jesus. He was never lost. He didn’t ‘find’ me. He had been in pursuit of me the whole time. He knew right where I was at all times. And at what I can only assume was exactly the right moment, He reached down and pulled me out of the darkness.

I wasn’t living in that darkness. No one really does. But I was very busy dying in it.

In my 30’s I was raising two kids, fighting with my husband, and trying to learn to love God. Raising children with no idea of what I was doing. Like most things in my life, there was no planning, no real intentions concerning motherhood. I desperately loved my children, but it wasn’t enough to keep them from the effects of a broken marriage between two very broken people.

fire-heart

In my mid-40’s, things turned. I was on the brink of divorce when God offered me another way. His plan was for restoration. His method was to put me into a refining furnace. From a distance, it looked like a very unreasonable, unfair plan. But up close, in that fire with my own heart, I (eventually) knew God was doing it right. In that fire, my selfishness rose to the top, along with my judgmental nature and my conditional love. In the fire, my exhausting need for love came to an end, as God asked me a question. “I love you. Can that be enough for you?”. I was painfully aware that it was a yes or no question. In the fire, I discovered how easy it is to believe you are following Jesus, only to find out you were just following your own ways.

I’ll save more “fire stories” for future posts.

And then I turned around and here I am, in my early 50’s, wondering how life went by so fast. The past year itself has seen God’s shaking in our lives, uprooting us from 28 years in Illinois and moving us to Texas, complete with numerous stories of His provision throughout that process. I have told the story to many people, and have heard on more than one occasion, “I don’t know that I could have done that”. Oh, I don’t know about that.

You could, if on your 50th birthday you realized how much time you had wasted on you and your own life. You could, if on that same birthday you had asked God for just one thing – to make the second half of your life be about His Kingdom and His glory and not about you.

You could, if you knew God had heard you and you suddenly found yourself in the middle of His “yes” to your prayer.

I try not to spend a lot of time dwelling in the past, but every now and then I need to look back. I need to see the beautiful spectacle God created. The story of His persistent pursuit, of His rescue and His loving push into His refining furnace. His faithfulness to grow me up from a petulant, rebellious child into a woman who is…less so. His goodness still takes me by surprise, and I have yet to figure out if that is a good thing or not.

So what would I go back and change, if I could? I’ve thought about that question a lot and at first, a long list of things goes through my head. But in the end, I wouldn’t change any of it. I’d keep every painful minute of my past. Because my past is full of God’s glory.

The glory of a God who isn’t afraid of the dark but will pursue you right through it until you fall panting into the light. The glory of a God who ignores your refusals, because He knows that you don’t know why you are so afraid to say yes to Him.

The glory of a God who loves your children way more than you do, and who has plans for them that you cannot destroy. I can describe the glory of a God who goes after your prodigal child and brings her back to Him and teaches you of His unstoppable faithfulness in the process.

I can tell you that while God may permit you to divorce, He does not command it, and He just may show up and ask you to reconsider, because He is planning glory.

I can tell you that a broken marriage can be healed, no matter who or what broke it.

I can tell you that a dead marriage simply means a resurrection instead of a healing.

I can tell you that God knows what will bring Him glory. We mostly do not.

I can tell you that God is more sovereign than you think, more powerful than you imagined, and far more loving than you believe Him to be. 

I would not change one thing about the life that puts that glory on display.

And I can’t help but ask for more.

it’s time to jump

high diveI only jumped one time. That was enough. When I take my mind back to that moment, I can still feel the fear. I saw others jump with ease, and go right back for more. I knew I could swim. I knew that the water was safe. I believed the mechanics of jumping, that if I went straight in, the water would catch me, I would touch the bottom and push my way back to the surface. And the one time I jumped, it happened just like that. I think I was crying when I got out of the water, and I never, ever climbed that high dive again. I remained terrified of jumping, but I never understood why.

(because believing and trusting are not the same)

I was watching a group of kids recently, barely toddlers. They were in the playroom at church, climbing up through the giant tubes and tunnels, sliding down and going right back for more. Only a few held back, content to go up the few steps so they could come down the small slide. But most of them were absolutely fearless. It never occurred to them that something bad could happen to them. We had led them in there and turned them loose to play, so they played with abandon.

(adults believe. children trust)

And then life happens. Hearts get broken. Innocence gets taken. We fall, we get hurt, we find ourselves alone. We learn the hard truth that not everyone is good, and sometimes, everything doesn’t turn out okay. Sometimes things just get worse. And fear comes in and bullies our trust into submission.

(“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”)

Jesus said we must change and become as little children. Change is a process. It takes time to grow from an adult into a child. To learn the truth that God is good. But time belongs to God and God cannot be bullied by fear. Instead, He sends love into the fight. And like ocean waves it just keeps coming, beating back the fear that keeps us from jumping. Because trust and fear do not dwell together, no sir, one of them must go, and God cannot be bullied.

Trust renders us dependent upon the one we are trusting. Isn’t that it, really? It’s the falling backward, trusting the one standing behind you to catch you that makes us vulnerable, wholly dependent on someone else’s ability to be trusted. No control. And isn’t the need for control the darkest place in our heart, after all? Isn’t that the biggest fear of them all?

(“but there is a God in heaven…”)

And the hardest thing about growing from an adult to a child is realizing that we never did have control. Not really. Some would call it an illusion. I think deception is a more fitting name.

Do I dare say my next thought? The one that keeps pulsing against my heart? Believing makes you safe. Trusting makes you dangerous.

(because believers rarely jump)

I am a believer, becoming a child who trusts. Because God has refused to be wave1bullied by my fear and love has been beating against my heart like ocean waves.

And He has me at the high dive again. I believe He is with me. I believe He is good. I believe He has good plans for me. But none of that will get me to jump.

I have to trust Him to catch me.

Luke 18:16; Matthew 18:3; Daniel 2:28

Note:  Many times Jesus asked, “do you believe?”, or He said that someone’s faith had healed them, etc. Both of those words contain, within their biblical definition, the word ‘trust’, and the idea of going beyond having a knowledge of something to actually trusting what you believe. In other words, when Jesus said “do you believe Me?”, He was asking “do you trust Me?”.

Webster’s dictionary does not use the word ‘trust’ in its definition of the word ‘believe’, and I am convinced that neither do many of us.

for you i pray

I wanted to tie 2012 up in a nice bow, bid it a fond goodbye, wax poetic about lessons learned and new beginnings and such. But my heart keeps turning away from all of that, bidding my mind to stop chattering long enough to just listen. And the weight of what I hear bends my heart, bowing it low. Voices from this past year. Conversations I’ve heard, words I’ve read. And I feel the Holy Spirit in this little room, this prayer room. I feel His weight on my heart as He reminds me to step out of my small story. And so I enter yours, with prayer…

hanging_by_a_threadFor those who spent this year hanging on by a thread. Maybe it’s a thread of hope. Maybe a thread attached to the hem of His garment, but a thread nonetheless. For you, I pray you will stop trying to trust Him. Trust is not something you try, it’s something you choose. He wants so much more for you than a thread of hope, a thread of trust. He wants handfuls for you. I pray that you will not be content with a thread in hand, but that you will let go of His garment and grab onto Him, and find your hands overflowing, unable to contain what you hold. For you, the thread holder, I pray ~

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

A year of both hands full of Christ, holding on to all of Him with trust and confidence, and hope that overflows. Both hands, beloved, grab onto Him with both hands, and let go of the thread.

PENTAX ImageFor those who suffered great loss and spent time in the ash heap of mourning. For you, the one now familiar with great sorrow and what surely feels like unquenchable pain. I pray you will know His comfort, like a balm, for that pain. I pray God opens His hand and pours forth joy, like oil over your mourning heart. I pray that at just the right time, His time, He will invite you to dance. Yes, beloved, you have known the time to mourn, but there is still a time to dance. I pray that this year you will receive grace to comfort others with the comfort you have received. I pray for all of your pain, all of your grief, every tear to be used, nothing wasted. And I pray that His promise will strengthen you on those days when grief attempts to hijack your heart ~

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

I pray that you will emerge from the ashes, steadfast and sure that all of this, the pain, the tears, the death, are all temporary conditions. That you will know and give others the hope that a reunion will happen, a holy hand will wipe away the last of the tears, and never again will you know this pain.

For those who spent the year afraid. Afraid something will never end, or perhaps that nothing will begin. Afraid of too much or not enough. Afraid that you didn’t hear Him right, or that you did. Afraid of what you feel, or of the fact that you feel nothing and maybe you never will. What if nothing changes? What if everything changes? For the one tormented by fear, I first pray peace for your wildly beating heart. I pray that this year He will lead you on a journey of letting go of fear. A journey of cliff jumping into faith, arms wide, heart fully expecting to be caught by His hands. I pray that you will know that He is with you, always, and that He will not drop you. I pray that your heart will come to know perfect love in the deep places where fear often hides. For you, the one who lived this year full of fear, I pray you will hear the voice of your Savior ~

“Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

I pray that this will be a year of increasing faith for you, the year where belief in the power and love of your God leaves no room for fear.

For the one who lived with disappointment. Unmet expectations that took the wind out of your sails throughout the year. Hopes and plans and dreams that fell apart. Your heart grows weary. I pray for you, dear one. I pray that this will be the year of renewed hope in God, and lower expectations in people. I pray that all of your hope, every last drop of it, will be in God and God alone. I pray for strength to hold on, and strength to let go. To let go of people and hold firmly to God, where your hope will find no disappointment. I pray that this year will find your prayers being answered, for God knows what hope deferred does to our hearts.

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love…”

Hoist your sails again, friend, and lift your voice in prayer with confidence that your God hears, your God sees, and your God will answer. His love will not fail.

For the one who tried. You tried being good enough. Tried praying, tried church. Tried to read the bible full of words you don’t understand. Tried to be nicer. Tried saying the right things the right way, tried fitting in. You followed the list of do’s and don’ts. You tried, but your life is still a mess. Your heart is still empty and so are your pockets. Your addiction still rages, and your marriage is still broken. And you just don’t get it. For you I pray that this was the last year.

The last year that you remain pinned to the ground by the enemy. The last year that you live unaware of Love. Unaware that there is a Father in heaven who created you, longs for you, and gave up His Son so that you could know Him.

I pray someone will be brave enough to walk up to you and tell you the truth; that what you need is grace and trying isn’t currency to buy it with because grace is free, and only grace can put us back together and Jesus has the grace to give if you will just come. Come, while you are yet a sinner. While you are yet broken and messy, with all that rages in you and against you…come. I pray they tell you that trying won’t save you, it takes dying and Jesus did that dying for you.

cross1

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

For you, my messy, broken friend, I pray that this was your last year of trying. I pray this is the year you cry out to Jesus in faith that He is who He said He is…the only One who can save you. I pray this is the year you find freedom in Christ, and you find out just how loved you really are by Him. I pray this is the year someone tells you.

To all my friends, family, and those I encounter through the written word…I pray for you, and for me…

Our Father in heaven, Your name be honored as holy.
Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.And do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

Happy New Year!

Romans 15:13; Ecclesiastes 3:4; Revelation 21:4; Ephesians 3:17-18; 1John 4:18; Mark 5:36; Psalm 33:18; Romans 5:8; John 14:6; Matthew 6:9-13

doulos

Woke up with a massive migraine. Took painkillers left over from the car wreck. Woke up five hours later feeling hungover, but the tiny people were no longer using giant sledgehammers on my brain. Now they’re just rubber mallets. Much better. Opened my bible, thinking Psalms, or maybe Song of Songs. Something soothing.

Instead I went to James. I’m as surprised as anyone. Who reads James when they don’t feel good? I don’t know, because I didn’t actually read James. I read the first sentence and then tripped.

doulos“James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ”…

I think his opening words meant much more to James and the first readers of his letter, than to us. In fact, I bet most of us just skim over those words,  because who pays attention to introductions? The writer is simply identifying himself.

James was the brother of Jesus, and at first did not believe his brother was the Messiah and openly opposed Him. But James eventually became a believer, and very well known in the Church. He was the leader of the church in Jerusalem, and a “pillar” of the Church, according to Paul. James could have identified himself using any number of words. Personally, I think most of us would have pulled out the “brother of Jesus” card for sure.

Who are you, James? “a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ”.

What comes to mind when you hear the word ‘servant’? I think of foot washing. I think of someone who does the menial tasks, the one who sets up the tables for a church event. I think of terms we use, such as “servant-leadership”, and “he has a servant’s heart”, and how those terms generally refer to “doing”. I have even said “I am a servant of Christ” myself, usually under my breath while I am doing something no one else would volunteer for. And in my best martyr’s voice.

In the Greek language, there are various words used for our one word “servant”, and they have different meanings and shades of meaning. To fit my definition above (minus the martyr’s voice), the word James would probably have had to use is ‘diakonos’:

~ one who executes the commands of another, especially of a master ~ the servant of a king ~ a deacon, one who, by virtue of the office assigned to him by the church, cares for the poor and has charge of and distributes the money collected for their use ~ a waiter, one who serves food and drink.

But the word he actually used to identify himself is “doulos”, or “bondservant”:

~ slave ~ one who gives himself wholly to another’s will ~ one who is devoted to another to the disregard of one’s own interests ~ those who’s service is used by Christ in extending and advancing His cause among men  ~ all who obey God’s commands; His true worshippers

Big difference. James identified himself not as someone who did things for God, but as someone who had willingly enslaved and bound himself to God. He was completely and utterly devoted to God and to Jesus, laying down his own will and interests. A bondservant is one who is completely given over to the one he serves. It is a position that expresses the absolute highest devotion.

It is no small thing to be a doulos of Christ. It is not something we can use to guilt convince people to volunteer to do more in the church.

dig deepThis kind of study and digging fascinates me, and I could literally spend hours and hours doing it. But my desire to go deeper, and to know the heart of God more, won’t be satisfied by a word study, unless it results in revelation from the Holy Spirit. It was when I was reading my study notes about the life of James that I got the revelation that took me deeper.

James was martyred in 62 A.D.  Not because he was a diakonos, but because he was a doulos. 

James, Paul, Peter, and Jude all identified themselves as bondservants (doulos) of Christ. In their letters to the churches, they give a very vivid picture of what the life, and the faith, of a bondservant looks like. They were obedient, crucified lives. These men weren’t spiritual super heros. They were filled with the Spirit of God, but they were mortal men who had made a choice, a decision to live life, all of life, for God and for the cause of Christ.

Everyone of them were killed for that decision.

How do I want to be identified? diakonos, or doulos? One can make me feel like a martyr, the other, given the right place and time, could actually make me one.

I probably should have gone to the Song of Songs. James wasn’t good for my headache.