Tag Archives: Faith

bad tap dancer

“Will God be mad at me if I…”? She was being pressured to convert to another religion to please the man who says he loves her. As I waited for the oil change I had come there for, she sat on the floor, waiting for her own car to get whatever it came there to get. She listened to me and my friend talking to each other about Jesus and then timidly asked her question. I could feel my heart breaking.

Or maybe that’s what God’s heart feels like when it breaks.

So we moved from our chairs to sit down on the floor next to her. As the story came out of parents pushing her to find a husband online and a man she’s never met from another country who promises love and marriage, she assured us that Jesus is her Savior and that would never change, it would just be to appease the man’s family. But she kept coming back to her question. “Will God be mad at me?”.

I wish I could say that I told her all that her heart really wanted to know in those few moments, but I didn’t. Truth was spoken, we prayed for her and invited her to church and then the oil was changed and our car was waiting. Just a few minutes of time with a woman with a question. And I wondered if hearing that God loves her and has so much more for her than what she wants to settle for would be enough to change anything for her.

But I think that encounter on the floor wasn’t so that I could give a woman the answer that would change her life. It was so that I could recognize the question that has haunted my own heart and that led to God’s purpose for me this past year.

“Is God mad at me?” 

Beginning last August, this year brought a sifting, which brought that question to the surface, revealing what I believed about God after 25 years of walking with Him.

Because the lie that always answered my question was “Yes”.

And I feel like a newborn calf, trying to walk out of a lie and into truth. It’s awkward, and I fall down a lot but one baby step at a time my legs are getting stronger.

running-awaySoon I will run and not look back.

I will leave behind me the lie that I am the child of an angry God…

…a God who loves me if I act right but who will turn away from me if I sin.

Left in the dust of my feet will be the constant weight of feeling that I have disappointed God and must perform well to gain His approval again, only to lose it the next time I step out of line.

But I am not running yet. I’m still stumbling,trying to get my footing in this place of grace.

tap-dancing

Still tap dancing for God, trying to earn His favor and love by performing well.

And in the dancing and turning and circling and walking on wobbly legs, I am learning and God is teaching and fresh truth is filling my lungs and I am taking real breaths for the first time.

God’s love for me is wide and deep and it doesn’t move. His affections are for me, all the time, and He always wants to be with me. He knows me better than I know me and still loves me and wants me and calls me His own.

I am my Father’s child and my Father’s heart is good. His love and affections are mine forever and nothing will change that truth. He sent His Son to die in my place because He wanted me to be with Him. His desire is not that I tap dance for Him, but that I trust Him with my whole heart.

And I am breathing deep this revelation of love that silences questions and the sounds of tap shoes.

Trusting God is an endless journey through the heart, I am finding. I did trust Him. I do trust Him. In many ways, for many things. But with the sifting, has come new revelation. Revelation that everything is an issue of trust.

Because Adam and Eve did not trust God’s goodness and that has passed into the hearts of all of mankind.

The root of sin is a lack of trust in God. Unbelief. 

sifting

God allowed my heart to be sifted to separate out the unbelief that was keeping me from abundant life. To reveal that although I knew He loved me, I didn’t really trust His love to stay put even on my worst days, when I couldn’t tap dance to save my life.

And that is God’s point to this story. Tap dancing didn’t save my life in the first place. Love saved my life. Dying saved my life. His love, His dying.

He died because He loved me in the midst of my sin. He died because I couldn’t tap dance my way to Him and He wanted me then and He still wants me now and the desire of His heart is that I would trust that truth.

And to finally realize that I can’t dance anyway.

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;

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

Holy Spirit, who are You?

In my quest to go deeper, to know the heart of God more, it was inevitable that I would find my way here. Because after almost 24 years of relationship, I still find the Holy Spirit to be a mystery. I’ve been taught much, heard much, and have even sensed His presence many times, and I still feel as though I need to stick out my hand, introduce myself and ask Him that question.

Just who are You, really?

I am filled with the urge to search, and I know of only one place to search for God; only one place that I know for sure He will be found.  And I remember that “In the beginning“, the Spirit of God was there, so that is where I turn. And I find the first glimpse of the Holy Spirit.

“Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep,and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” {Genesis 1:2}

Hovering. Rachaph is the Hebrew word. It means to brood, like a mother bird broods over her young.

It also means “to cherish”.

The exact same word is used in Deuteronomy 32:11, describing God’s care for Israel ~

“like an eagle that stirs up its nest
    and hovers over its young,
that spreads its wings to catch them
    and carries them on its pinions.”

He cherishes.

And I am reminded ~

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” {Romans 5:5}

I sat back and closed my bible, closed my notebook and put down my pen. And then I chose to believe what I had found.

The Holy Spirit of God is not just a vaporous mystery. He’s not just power and strength, worker of signs and wonders, and Giver of gifts.

Suddenly the fact that I am indwelt by the Holy Spirit looks different to me.

“In the beginning…”  became “Here is the first thing I want to tell you about Myself. You are cherished by Me.”

Holy Spirit of God…

It’s so nice to meet You.

desperate encounters – pt. 2

This is part 2 of a 4 part post in which I look at four women, desperate for different reasons, who encountered Jesus. In part 1 I highlighted the woman at the well. You can read that here.

From Mark 5:25-34

The Bleeding Woman

woman with issue of bloodThis is the story of a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. The cause of the blood flow can only be speculated, i.e. menstruation, uterine tumors…we don’t know (although most agree it has to do with menstruation). What we do know is that it was an abnormal, chronic condition that brought her to desperation. To understand just how desperate, we need some background information.

She was a Jewish woman, so she would have been under the law of Moses. Leviticus 15:19-30 deemed her “unclean”.  That means that everything and everyone she touched became ceremonially unclean. She would have been shunned by her community, including her family. It is very likely that this woman had not been touched in twelve years. If she had been married, most likely her husband would have divorced her, as any sexual relations would have been unclean. She would not have been allowed to share in the annual worship celebrations that were considered important  in Judaism. She was not allowed to go into the temple courts, she could not light the candles for the Sabbath evening, nor could she participate in the Passover meal. It would have been as if she was non-existent in an existing world. She had every reason to be desperate.

And then she heard about Jesus, and her desperation drove her to do the unthinkable. She made her way through the crowd and touched the hem of His garment. Had He been a normal man, her touch would have made Him ceremonially unclean. And to compound it, as a woman she was not allowed to touch a man in public.

An unclean, desperate woman touched Jesus with faith that He could heal her, and the power of God was released.

So often we wait for His power to do something in our lives so that we can believe Him. Perhaps He is waiting for us to believe Him so that His power is released. 

It is here, in that moment of her touching Jesus that we learn something of the character of God. We learn it as much from how He did not respond, as from how He did respond.

He did not shame her for being unclean. He did not punish or even chastise her for breaking the law. He did not pull away from her. Instead, He called her “Daughter”. She is the only woman in scripture He addressed with that title, so, I have to wonder…why her? Could it be that this woman, untouched for so long, an outcast from her community of faith and her family, desperately needed to know she was still a “daughter of Abraham”?

An unclean outcast who touched Jesus. And in response, He publicly declared her to be clean, and called her Daughter.

I imagine this woman and her desperation. I would have been longing to be touched, to be accepted, to be healed. But having come to Jesus as an unclean woman myself, I know what it is be desperate to be clean.

While this woman lived under the law that said Jesus was untouchable, I lived under the lie that said He was untouchable. Because of the life I had lived, and was still living, I believed Jesus would have nothing to do with me.  Coming to Jesus meant coming to “religion”, something I just wasn’t ready to do. Until desperation drove me to Him, and I learned the truth.

The untouchable God became touchable through His Son, to a people who desperately need to be made clean.

Read part 3 of Desperate Encounters

 

gung ho

I had a strange conversation with someone a little while ago and it’s messin’ with me. When things mess with me I blog about them. It helps.

The conversation was with a newborn Christian. Maybe a couple of weeks old. I think he may have been under the influence, evidenced by the smell of beer, the slurring, and a somewhat glazed look in his eyes (yeah, it’s hard to get anything past me). Yet, he still managed to say something that I found odd. He told me that he had been talking to a Christian couple recently, discussing the “Christian faith”, and that “they weren’t as gung ho about it as you guys are” (meaning my husband and I). I couldn’t tell if I was being praised or insulted, to be honest with you.

Gung ho. I haven’t heard that term since I was in the Army. Gung ho soldiers were the ones that were “all in”. They lived and breathed being a soldier. So I don’t mind being called gung ho for Christianity. I minded something else. I minded that this brand new baby Christian saw people who were less than “all in”, and thought that might be the better way to go. I minded that. A lot. I’m not judging the less than all in people (or maybe I am. I’ll think about that later). And can I stop saying “all in” now, and just call it lukewarm? Yes, I am peeved that someone played off their lukewarmth as being perfectly ok to someone who doesn’t know any better.

So I think I need to say something to my slightly inebriated fellow, and to the people, who I am sure are perfectly nice people, that may have messed with his baby-faith. None of them read my blog, so I’ll mostly be talking to myself. Again.

Jesus came to this earth to take upon Himself the punishment that was rightly ours. The whip they used tore open His back for us. He was spit upon and beaten for us. They made Him drag the heavy crossbeam, the instrument of His own death, up the hill to Golgotha…after the whip tore open His back for us. His hands and feet were nailed, yes nailed to that cross and then it was dropped into the ground. A crown of thorns…sharp, 2″ thorns, was shoved into His skull for us. He hung there, the King of Heaven, separated from His Father by our sin, until He finally died for us.

God came for us, and then died for us. And now you and I have been deemed forgiven. Forever. Why? Because He offered His death to us as God’s gift of life, and we took it.

So, do you think He was “all in”? Was every single moment of every single day of His life on this earth spent on us? Or were we just part of His life here?

He left heaven for earth and died a wretched death in our place. Because He wants us with Him.

Tell me, friends. Do you think Jesus is gung ho about you?

P.S. ~ I was right. Blogging helped.