Category Archives: Blog

hey buddy…got a quarter?

“Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Acts 3:6

I would have dug around for a quarter.

Ever been in one of those awkward prayer circles? You know the scene. At church on Sunday, Betty tells Susie of a certain (or very vague) struggle she’s having. Susie gets excited and says “wait here, I’ll be right back”, and indeed she does come “right back”, with 5 other women in tow, and you’re one of them.

Sometimes I stand in those circles, and it’s like me and God are just staring at each other, each waiting for the other one to say something. I’m waiting, straining to hear Him speak in case He’s whispering. Nothing. I start to get a little nervous because it’s a circle. That means the unwritten rule of “everyone has to pray when it’s their turn” goes into effect. If you try to skip your turn, an incredibly awkward silence will ensue and your neck will get really hot and your hands become all clammy. So you start begging God for something, anything that would be even a little sincere, but He just stares at you. And now, the person next to you is taking her turn and you’re literally screaming in your head, promising God all sorts of things if He will “JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO PRAY!”. And then it’s your turn, so you kick it into auto pilot and start praying “the right things to pray”, using your finely tuned grasp of the Christianese language. Finally it’s over and you can wipe your sweaty hands on your pants and go home and brood about God’s silence when you so desperately needed Him to give you something to pray so that you wouldn’t have to fake it. Again.

Ok, maybe that’s just me. Maybe this is why I am so desperate for the heart of God. Because I’m tired of giving people what I don’t have.

So this morning I opened my bible, put on some worship music, and came with great expectation of…something. I didn’t know what it would be, but I wasn’t going to leave until my heart tasted something.

Breakfast was served…

“That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched —this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” 1John 1:1-3

“Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Acts 3:6

“When the Counselor comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truthwho goes out from the Father, he will testify about me. And you also must testify, for you have been with me from the beginning.” John 15:26-27

They proclaimed what they had seen and heard from Him, they gave what they had been given by Him, and they testified because they had been with Him.

Being with Him, hearing Him, receiving from Him. It all spells intimacy, and when we have intimacy with Jesus, we have something to proclaim, something to give. It’s hard to pray in faith for someone else when my own spiritual life is bone dry. And it’s hard to proclaim, with believability, the power of God to someone else when your own life lacks that power. Try testifying about the peace of Christ when you are full of anxiety and fear.

I may have known His peace yesterday. Perhaps I prayed with incredible faith last year. Maybe I’ve heard His voice many, many times, just not lately. But it’s no longer then…it’s now. Intimacy with God is about today, not yesterday. Did I come to the well to drink deep of Him today? Did I gather His manna today? Or am I trying to stay alive with yesterday’s bread and water? (And by the way…is that all I want? To stay alive?)

I went to the well this morning, and He met me there with this –

“I want to meet with you every single day, as long as it’s called today. Because I love you, and I want you to know it. Today, not yesterday.

And because if all you have is a quarter in your pocket, no one is going to get up and walk.”

the heart that i want

I recently spent some time in the prayer room at my church, telling God that I wanted more. That could sound quite spiritual, except that I wasn’t sure what “more” I wanted. I only knew I have wanted it for quite some time now.

As I sat there, swaying to the worship music and running through all of the things one might want more of, I finally realized that it all really came down to one thing. I want more of Him. Not His power. Not even the sense of His presence. In that room (where His presence surely hovered), my longing received its name.

I want to be near His heart.

I had come to that room because people were gathered to pray, and I am a woman who loves prayer. But it didn’t take long for me to realize God was after something other than my prayers. He prodded until He got my heart to acknowledge the hunger for more. And the only thing I could think to say was “Why?”. I knew that if anyone could answer the question of my own longing, it would be Him, and I was right. He knew exactly why I have been longing for a place close to His heart.

Because I’ve been there before.

I lived near His heart for a season, learning to love someone who didn’t love back…and He resurrected a marriage from the grave.

I lived there learning to trust, believe and pray relentlessly for a daughter to find her way to Him…and He went after her and brought a prodigal back from the far country.

(Being near to the heart of God is to know the agony of love.)

You see, I’ve seen and I’ve tasted that God is good. I learned that when you draw close to His heart and live from that place, He does mighty things through you, for you, and in you.

I also learned that it is a fiery place, and getting close means something will get burned. And that is the dilemma of drawing near to a heart as fierce as His. Life and death both live there. Spirit grows strong in the heat of those flames, while flesh is consumed by that same heat.

I have been away long enough. Drawn to less intense places, I have tried to be satisfied with ministry, bible study, and various spiritual endeavors, as well as other things not so spiritual. They have all left me hungry.

Maybe deep down I thought I just wanted to know His heart for me. Don’t we all want that? But in that room, while others prayed, God met my hunger and extended His hand. It held His heart, but not just His heart for me.

For the woman in the corner, and the man laying face down on the floor. For the person who brings me pain, and the one I have ignored. For the bigot and the prostitute. For the muslim, the hindu and the atheist. For the spiritually poor and the spiritually proud. For the one who doesn’t love back. For His Church, with all of her flaws. For the nations of the earth. And I knew the question He was asking.

Is this the heart you want?

Yes. Yes it is. I know it is a fierce, fiery place, that heart of Yours. I know it will burn away the comfortable places in my own heart. I know it will mean coming out of the safety of hiding behind spiritual busy-work to be exposed, naked before You. It will demand the bravery to do what I’m afraid to do.

It will be hard, and it will be beautiful.

But I’m just too hungry to settle for less.

changing forevers

fishingIt was on a beach. Men doing what they do, what their fathers did, what their sons will do. Providing food for their families; making a living. And then God walked by with an invitation.

 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”               (Matthew 4:19)

Their invitation is my invitation.  “Come with Me and take part in what I am doing. Stop spending your life on the temporary. You have eternal purpose, and your life can affect the ‘forever’ of other people.”

(My forever was changed because someone dropped their nets and followed Jesus.)

He could have done it alone. He could have fished for men until all who would be caught by grace were in, and then He could have brought this whole thing to the end. Alone. Without us.

Instead, He invited us into it with Him. Because He wants us with Him, doing what He does. Loving unlovable, forgiving, lifting lowly heads, and strengthening weak. Treating outcasts with honor, feeding hungry, healing sick. Fishing. Always fishing. Always wanting us in it with Him. Being hands doing divine work, feet going to the ends of the earth, hearts breaking for the broken, eyes looking with love. Changing forevers. Preparing a Bride.

Us with Him. Him with us. And then I hear the words that draw me deeper, higher, lower. All the way to my knees.  “Christ in you, the hope of glory”.

Christ, encountering those I encounter. The Holy One of God dwelling in me. Loving, forgiving, lifting lowly heads, strengthening weak. Honoring outcasts, feeding hungry, healing sick.

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me…” Galatians 2:20

Deeper living requires deeper dying and going higher means going all the way low.

This. It is His invitation to me. To you.

This. And more.

leave there. come here.

Look down. That’s my new thing. If I’m walking, I’m watching. For crickets. Or spiders the size of my fist. Or tiny lizardy things that are blazingly fast when you’re chasing them around your kitchen. I live in Texas now, so the way I do life has changed. I will never again go to Taco Bell when I want something mexican(ish). I am now free to say y’all, and to smile and say hi to everyone I see. Because über-friendliness isn’t weird down here, it’s just the way of life. So is slow driving, but I can only adapt to so much at one time. So I wave and smile as I pass everyone on the road. That’s about the best I can do right now.

If I pull back from my microscopic stare at my life, the view is dizzying. There came an invitation. Pack. Let go and just go. Leave known, go to unknown. Trust. Believe. Now go.

Illinois seems so far behind and at the same time just right over there. Texas is so present, yet elusive. I’m not back there, and not yet fully here. But God isn’t waiting for me to get acclimated. I feel His breath blowing on embers. I hear His deep calling to mine. Pray. Listen. Hear Me. Feel Me. Know Me. Come higher, go deeper.

On the surface, it may seem like just a location change. A few minor adjustments and life should just keep on keepin’ on. It could be true if my God did anything on a surface level. If His invitations were ever to ordinary. But that has never been the case. Ever.

His voice has been whispering to me in the quiet hours… “called is invited. look at the invitation. look closer at what you have been called to…see what I have invited you to.”

The Gospel is a bloody invitation to step from this life into another.

To undergo a radically altered existence. To live beyond ordinary, beyond self, beyond…here. It isn’t about inviting Jesus into our lives. It’s about dropping everything and running to Him to find life. It is His invitation to leave our lives to be with Him, and in being with Him, to become like Him.

We are those called by God. The invited ones. Not once invited, always invited. To more.

This is what I am compelled to explore. The calling of God. This continual invitation to leave there…come here. Come closer. Come higher. Come deeper. You have been invited to more than you think. 

 

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.

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.

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.