Tag Archives: God

the f-word

aphiemi is our f-word. It means to send away, dismiss, set free.  It means to forgive.

So much has been said about forgiveness so I won’t go on and on. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.

Here is what I have seen, what I am seeing, and what I myself have done:  searched the scriptures for a way out of forgiving someone, rather than for a way into it. Usually, our way out lies in a lack of repentance, or change, on the part of the person we need to forgive.  Most often the door out of forgiving is found in Luke 17:3-4.

“If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. And if he sins against you seven times in a day, and comes back to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive him.” 

Ergo, if they don’t repent, we don’t have to forgive them. Two other places used as a way out of forgiveness are Colossians 3:13: “Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you must also forgive.” and Ephesians 3:32 – “And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ.”

God’s forgiveness comes at our repentance, so we use repentance, or change, as our measuring stick of whether or not we have to forgive someone. So let’s just talk about that.

What if, in Luke 17, the point Jesus was making was not repentance, but forgiveness? What if He was addressing the heart of the forgiver, not the forgiven? What if He was saying “I don’t care how many times he does the same thing to you and keeps coming back and saying “sorry”…you cannot withhold forgiveness.”

I mean, what if someone coming back over and over again and repenting for the same sin isn’t really the definition of repentance, and therefore, repentance is not the criteria for forgiving someone seventy times seven?

So let’s throw Colossians and Ephesians up and see what sticks.

“Just as”. That’s what usually sticks. And so then we say God forgave us when we repented, so just as He did, we are to do. Ok, fair enough. Let’s talk about that.

What if we have no ability to offer anyone salvation and therefore, our forgiveness cannot be based on repentance? What if by “just as”, He was referring to any number of other things besides “when they repent”?

Like, completely. Fully. Unmerited. Forgiveness given when it is not even close to being deserved. Because that is how God has forgiven us in Christ, and it should make us out of our minds grateful. Not searching for a way not to give that same thing to others.

What if God was saying to us, “I so desired to forgive you that I sent my Son to die to make it happen”. What if forgiving as God forgave means looking for a way to forgive, rather than for a way not to forgive?

Well, what about repentance? What about it? First of all, those of us who are looking for a reason not to forgive, aren’t really looking for repentance. We want change. We are demanding to see the fruit of repentance before we forgive. Which is not the way that God has forgiven us. Not if we believe the gospel. What we really have to ask ourselves is not “did they repent”, but “what do we do with these scriptures”:

But if you don’t forgive people, your Father will not forgive your wrongdoing. – Matthew 6:15

And whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven will also forgive you your wrongdoing. – Mark 11:25

Shouldn’t those statements have us scrambling to find a way to forgive the people who have hurt us, rather than trying to find justification not to forgive them?

I know what it feels like to have to forgive someone who has done you great harm, and not owned up to it. I know how hard that is and how gut-wrenching the work of forgiveness can be.  I know that it feels like forgiveness is the same as saying they didn’t do what they did, or that what they did doesn’t matter. It feels like they are getting away with something. It feels unjust.

This has become one of the deepest truths I know:  forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling. If you are waiting to feel forgiving, stop it.  We have to stop trying to figure out what forgiveness feels like, and see what it looks like. Below is an excerpt from my book on the restoration of my marriage (the book is still in process):

It looks like never mentioning any of it ever again. No matter how mad I am. No matter how hurt I am. No matter how much I want to get back at him. I choose to let forgiven things remain forgiven.

It looks like not allowing my thoughts to turn over the rocks of the past, digging up the dirt of things buried in my forgiveness. In other words, I don’t think about the things I’ve forgiven. I just don’t. If those thoughts come in, I send them right back out. I choose to think of something else. I choose to start speaking Scripture about what is true about my husband. I choose to keep forgiving.

It looks like allowing my scars to be evidence of God’s healing instead of evidence of my wounding. Those scars didn’t all come from my husband. I had to forgive the person who molested me, the ex-husband who abused me, and [many others who have hurt me deeply throughout my life].

Forgiveness in my story looks like refusing to protect my own heart from pain. It’s staying vulnerable. It looks like trusting God.

It looks like remembering how very much I have been forgiven. It’s recognizing that what was done and what was said during those years were from a place of brokenness, and broken people do broken things and we are all broken at some point. You. Me. All of us have hurt people we love. Then we pull out our scales of justice and measure how much pain we’ve inflicted against how much pain we’ve been dealt and somehow, the scale always tips in our favor. I choose to throw away the scales of what justice looks like to me, because it is mercy and forgiveness I’ve been given by God, not justice.

If you are struggling with the f-word, then do what you know to do. Repent. Turn around. Go the other way. Look for a way into forgiveness instead of a way out of it.

I promised not to go on and on. Promise broken. Forgive me.

i can live with that – part one

At the same time the Benjaminites did not drive out the Jebusites who were living in Jerusalem. The Jebusites have lived among the Benjaminites in Jerusalem to this day. {Judges 1:21}

I could go on about how I was in the book of Judges with no idea why I chose to go there. How I was reading along at more of a yada yada pace than taking a contemplative stroll. I could tell you about reading past verse 21, but not really because my eyes kept going back to it even though my brain kept wanting to move on. Get to something interesting. I could tell you all of that, but I won’t. I’ll just cut to the chase. Or to the quick. Whichever it happens to be for you.

What are you co-existing with that you should have driven out?

Personally, I needed a whole minute after that question. Could have been a month. A month of trying not to let it stop at conviction. Forcing myself to stay with it and not push it away as one of those oh, that’s good moments and then go back to being whatever it is that I am. Oblivious. Comfortable. Unconvicted.

I may need more time. But here is where I share my journey with whoever may be listening, so I’ll share a couple of miles or so I’ve gone with this so far.

The Israelites had been told to drive out the inhabitants that were in their promised land. Get rid of them. The promised land was the territory God had given them. Places He had given them the authority to dwell as His people.

What is the spiritual shadow being cast by this physical reality? What is my land, my territory of authority?

My home, family. My marriage. If I were still raising children, my parenting would be a place God has given to me, but now it’s my grandparenting.  Ministry. Calling. Gifting. My workplace. My relationships with God, and with others, inside and outside of the Church.

This is my land, my territory. God has planted me here and given me authority, spiritually.  These are the areas I have felt led to ask myself the question — what have I been allowing to co-exist with me here, rather than driving it out?

Some that I came up with apply to me, and some do not. Maybe they resonate with you, though.

Fear, including the fear of man. The fear of disappointing someone, of feeling their disapproval or criticism. That kind of fear will keep us in a place of striving, trying to please and appease. It will keep us from speaking the truth when truth needs to be spoken. Then there is the fear that comes when we watch the news. That’s the fear that can turn our desire to be informed into an obsession. And because we are obsessed with what is going on around us, we are continually fueling fresh fear.  And no, the answer is not to bury our heads, no longer paying any attention to the news. The news is not the trespasser on our land. Fear is.

{Also, for the record — fear includes control, because control is rooted primarily in fear.  Think about it.}

Pride, which includes a low self-esteem. Whether thinking too much of ourselves, or too little of ourselves — we are still continually thinking of self. Narcissism, which is pride on steroids, is rampant in the Church. One day on social media will confirm that, I promise.  Comparison is also rampant and is rooted in pride. Self-hatred, self-loathing, self-everything — all the offspring of pride.

Pride ensures that no matter where we look, we see ourselves.

{It also includes a judgmental and/or critical spirit, both of which can be traced back to pride.}

Apathy/Complacency. Couch surfing Christians. Those who believe they follow Jesus, but never actually follow Him past the couch. They keep their religion as a “private” matter, never talking about it with others.  Or, they post spiritual memes on their social media accounts and consider that sharing the gospel. It is spiritual laziness and we have made peace with it and allowed it to co-exist with us in every aspect of our lives.

I can think of others, can you? A religious spirit, unbelief, addictions of every kind, and compromise, just to name a few.

To figure out how and why these things are enemies that should not be allowed to co-exist with us, we have to consider what they destroy, or at a minimum, what they hinder in us. We’ll do that in the next mile. Stay tuned!

when will i just stop surrendering?

Quick. What do you think when I say the word surrender?

I think song lyrics. I think on my knees before God. I think giving up.

A word I say, and think I’m doing, but really, I’m not.

 I’ve looked. I cannot find one scripture reference to humans surrendering to God, using the actual word surrender.

As though God wants to take prisoners rather than be reconciled to His children.

But I remember all those times on my knees, weeping and singing the lyrics. Don’t You remember those, God?

So He said to me, ‘Jonah’, and something in my stomach dropped as I reached for my bible.

Jonah was commanded to go prophecy to the city of Ninevah that God was going to destroy it because of their wickedness.

So Jonah ran. Ended up on a ship, a storm came, they threw Jonah overboard, big fish swallowed him. Jonah sees the error of his ways from inside the fish, and says this…

but as for me, I will sacrifice to You
with a voice of thanksgiving.
I will fulfill what I have vowed.

{and i think to myself…hmmm. that could be called surrender, right?}

Big fish pukes Jonah out onto a beach. He went to Ninevah and preached against it. All of Ninevah repents, turns from their wicked ways. God chooses not to destroy the city.

Jonah gets mad. Says this —

That’s why I fled toward Tarshish in the first place. I knew that You are a merciful and compassionate God, slow to become angry, rich in faithful love, and One who relents from sending disaster.

So then God and I discussed Jonah.

He surrendered, right?

Is it surrender to agree to obey Me once I have taken you into the depths? Is it surrender to stop fighting only because I have put you into a position where you can no longer fight? When I’ve cut off your ability to run? Is it surrender when you finally realize that you cannot hide from Me?

What is really being established — your surrender, or My sovereignty?

Why do you think Jonah ran in the first place?

Because he didn’t want to preach to Ninevah.

No. Jonah ran because he knew Me, but did not trust Me. 

He knew I am a compassionate God, a God rich in love and mercy. Jonah could not trust that I would do things the way he would do them. Jonah’s heart was to destroy Ninevah because that’s what justice looked like to him. He didn’t trust Me to do what was just.

Oh. Ok. {awkward silence} So, am I like Jonah? Knowing You but not trusting You? Surrendering because there are no further options?

Is my surrender really surrender, or is it Your sovereignty being established?

{i knew the answer. So did He. He was gracious to move the conversation along.}

What about Mary?

Mary. Teenaged girl, engaged to be married. Suddenly there’s an angel named Gabriel in front of her. Mary remained calm. We can ponder that some other time.

Gabriel tells Mary that she will become pregnant by the Holy Spirit and give birth to the Messiah.

“I am the Lord’s slave,” said Mary. “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38)

Was that it? Was that her surrender?

No. Mary didn’t need to surrender because she never chose to fight. She trusted Me.

I want you to consider this the next time you are singing those lyrics, the next time you are on your knees before me, pledging your surrender. 

Are you surrendered like Jonah, or like Mary? 

I don’t actually want your surrender. I don’t want to have to fight with you until you finally give up. Surrender is not the same as obedience. Surrender is not the same as trust. Surrender is simply acknowledging that you are in a battle that you cannot win. That isn’t what I’m after.

I am not your opponent, I’m your Father.

I want you to know Me. And because you know Me, you trust Me. If you know Me and trust Me then you will not have to surrender in order to obey Me.

The conversation spanned two weeks. I know that we use the term ‘surrender’, because it best fits our heart’s posture at the crossroad. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.

But I do think God wants to shift something. To have us step into the light and get a better view of Him.

He never wanted to fight us in the first place. He wanted to love us, rescue us and bring us back to Himself. We’re the ones who turn it into a fight.

He will establish His sovereignty if that’s what has to happen.

Or, we can seek to know Him, choose to trust Him. We can have obedience that didn’t require surrender.

We can choose to believe that He is worthy of not just our worship, not just our praises, but worthy of our obedience. Worthy of our trust. Worthy of so much more than our surrender.

Because He is not a worthy opponent. He is a worthy Father.

what are you doing in the presence of God…

It started a couple of years ago, actually. This feeling would creep up whenever the talk turned to more of God. More of His presence. Something about that didn’t sound right to my spirit, but I didn’t know why.

Not too long ago, a well-known preacher (one of my favorites, in fact), spoke about this very thing, this hunger for more of God’s presence. I understood the point he was trying to make, but that creeping uneasiness was now full-on stalking me. Still, the very next time I was in prayer, I told God I just wanted to be in His presence, told Him I wanted more. So He said something back to me.

Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? – 1Corinthians 3:16

Presence. Dwelling in me.

“I am crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.”—Galatians 2:20

Where is there more than that? Where will I find more presence than Jesus living in me? Just what is this hunger for more?

Why are we hungering for something we have dwelling within us? I think if we’re going to be hungry, raise our hands and fall on our knees and cry out ‘more Lord’, we should know why, shouldn’t we?

Maybe not. Maybe there is no rhyme, no reason. Maybe God follows the rule to ‘always leave them wanting more’. Maybe we want all of Him and all of Him doesn’t fit inside jars of clay. Maybe we all just instinctively know that there must be more.

Maybe we need a different question. Maybe God asked me a question that won’t leave me be. Maybe you need to hear it too.

How are you stewarding the presence you already have?

My soul feels sucker-punched. And since we’re wanting more, there’s more.

What are you doing, in the presence of God?

What are you saying, in the presence of God?

What are you watching, in the presence of God?

What are you thinking about, in the presence of God?

How are you loving, in the presence of God?

How are you serving, in the presence of God?

How are you living, with Christ in you, the hope of glory?

Everywhere we go, we bring the presence of God with us. How are we stewarding that presence? Who around us is hurting? Who is struggling? Who needs encouragement? Who needs to see light in the darkness? Who needs to witness the goodness of God in a corrupt world? Who needs to see the integrity of Jesus, the faithfulness of Jesus, the willingness of Jesus to draw near when others pull away?

Then there’s this. Are we entering the room with ourselves in mind, looking for our own needs to get met, wanting, needing attention? Do we come in complaining, discontent, or distracted? I’m talking about the grocery store. The gas station. Our jobs, our churches. I’m talking about our homes.

Or this. How powerless are we living? How addicted are we? How much weakness do we claim? How defeated do we feel? How less than, unworthy, unwanted, unvalued do we believe we are?

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with hungering for more of God. There is a very real ache in the Beloved, a longing, a yearning, for Jesus. But I think we may have become preoccupied with believing the answer is found here, usually in a really good worship service/revival meeting/conference. But let’s just be honest about this thing.

We go to all the worship services and are genuinely moved to worship. We attend the conferences and leave with our treasures, our takeaways, our nuggets to ponder. We attend all the things, go where we think His presence is going to be ‘poured out’. And often, we do encounter Him through conviction, through worship, through a revelation of truth.

But it doesn’t make it go away, does it? We still long for Him. We still want more. We’re still hungry for His presence.

Because this isn’t heaven. 

Until we see Him face to face, something in us will continually long for more of Him.

But I think God may be asking us why we want more when we don’t really know what to do with what we already have within us.

I think He’s asking what we’re doing here, in the presence of God.

Heroes: Noah—Why I quit smoking

We’re walking through the Hall of Faith together, in Hebrews 11. Links to the previous posts will be at the end of this one.

By faith Noah, after he was warned about what was not yet seen and motivated by godly fear, built an ark to deliver his family. By faith he condemned the world and became an heir of the righteousness that comes by faith.

(Noah’s story is in Genesis, chapters 6-9)

For years I had tried over and over to quit smoking, but nothing worked. I was firmly, undeniably, enslaved and I hated it. And then a series of events and one scripture passage happened.

Later Jesus found him at the temple and said to him, “See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.” – John 5:14

And the fear of God came upon me at last. To be honest, I had been praying for a real fear of God, because I didn’t feel like I had any. I had a sincere love for God, devotion to God, affection for God and hunger for God. But I did not fear Him.

Until He told me, through His word, that there was something worse coming if I didn’t stop what I was doing and change course, and I believed Him and found my godly fear.

A fear of the Lord is defined as having reverence, or deep respect for Him. Some people also define it as being in awe of Him. All of those are correct. But for me, something was missing.

I knew God, loved God and walked with God. How could I not fear Him?

So here’s the deal. My deal, let’s just call it my deal because it may not be your deal at all. I have been fed on the grace and love and goodness and kindness and the “abba-ness” of God, and let me tell you, it has been nourishment for my broken soul. And feeding on the power of God to defeat the enemy, move mountains, heal sickness, and turn hearts, has lit.me.up with excitement and energy and determination and purpose. So so good.

close up buffet table arrangement cattering

But at the banqueting table of the fullness of who God is I have politely passed by a lot of what did not make me feel good, you know? The stuff that went down hard and felt strange to my pallet. I found that my spiritual appetite more or less mimicked my physical appetite. Eat what tastes good, don’t eat what doesn’t taste good.

Ironically, it is because God is good and kind and loving and full of grace, because He is my Abba-Father, that He led me to truth.

God always keeps His word. Even the hard to swallow ones.

So when He says that continuing in disobedience will bring something worse to me, He means it.

shut-the-door

And when He says that destruction is coming, He means it. And when He says He has made a way out of that destruction, but the day will come when He will shut the door of that way out, He means it. And when He says that if you have not obeyed His command to turn, believe in Jesus and be saved, you will perish, He means it.

And when He says that it is not His desire that you perish, He means it. 

By faith Noah took the way out provided by God. But He was motivated by godly fear.

Because He believed God meant what He said.

Previously:

Heroes: Cain & Abel

Heroes:  Enoch

leave nothing out

writing processLast weekend I went to my first Christian writers’ conference. I had no idea what to expect, but let me tell you, it was money well spent. I was a little intimidated at first, walking into this fancy schmancy hotel. Marble floors fancy and humongous chandeliers schmancy. But I walked right in, tried not to stare with my mouth open, and found the escalator up to the conference room.

My second clue that this was no joe-schmo operation was my name tag. My name was already on it. Typed in big bold letters. Like I belonged there. Next, I spent 10 minutes placing the name first on one side of my chest and then the other. Then on my stomach and then back to just under my throat. All the while the voice in my head is saying, “Stop it. You’re obsessing. It doesn’t matter, it’s a name tag. Stick it somewhere and walk through the door.” I was just so nervous.

Since I had compulsively arrived 45 minutes early, every table was empty. I got a cup of coffee from the “coffee station”, loaded it with sugar, and sat down at a table near the front of the platform. Ten minutes later, I grabbed my stuff and moved to a different table a little further back, because I felt too visible. Five minutes after that, I moved again, this time to the table right next to the door. Easy access to the bathroom, and a quick exit if this thing goes south and they discover I shouldn’t be there. By now I’m sweating, hopped up on sugar and trying to figure out where to put my purse. I hung it on the back of my chair and it fell right back off.  If I put it on the floor, someone will trip over it for sure, spilling out 300 empty gum wrappers and a brush that looks like someone’s been chewing on it. I finally shoved the purse under the table in front of my feet. Man, I was nervous.

Why was I so nervous? Because from the moment I arrived I was convinced I didn’t belong there. I have not published a book, therefore I can’t call myself a writer. I am someone who wants to be a writer, but I’m not actually a writer. I was nervous because I was believing a lie. Within 10 minutes of the start of the conference, I knew I belonged there. Because I write. Because I am compelled to write. Because my world is unmanageable unless I can write. Because writing makes me feel alive. I am a writer because God has called me and gifted me to write. I want to be a woman who walks confidently, with my head up and not down, in what God has called me to do. I had not realized this had been missing until I attended the conference.

People were starting to trickle in, and soon all the tables filled up. My table had three other women and one man (a nice missionary from Zambia.) We took a few minutes to tell each other our names and where we had driven from. And then we shared what made us “writers”. Two of the women at my table had published books. I talked about my blog and the book that I’m in the throes of writing. By this time I was starting to relax and finally stopped fidgeting with my name tag, which was looking fairly ragged at this point. The conference hadn’t even started and it was already torn and refused to stay stuck to my chest. I got up for another cup of sugar with coffee in it and resisted the urge to just lick the back of the tag and stick it on my forehead.

my peopleFinally, they got started, and from that moment on, I was captivated. Each speaker had 20 minutes to download as much as they could to us, and I was their sponge. At one point in the afternoon, a woman got up to teach us to use active voice more than passive voice, and what kind of verbs to avoid. I was taking notes like crazy and looked around to see others taking notes, nodding, all paying attention. Not at all like in math class. Suddenly, I thought, “These are my people. I have found my people.” I was giddy.

One speaker, in particular, was significantly impactful to me. She talked about leaving nothing out. Her name is Jennifer Strickland and she tells her story in a book called “Beautiful Lies“. She talked about having to set the book aside, a lot, because it was too painful to write, and how God finally told her to just close her eyes and write it all out. Every memory, everything…just write her story. She told us that much of her healing came from just writing it all, leaving nothing out. And when she had written it all, then she went back and edited, taking out whatever would have dishonored her husband, her parents, or her readers.

I have been struggling with my book because so much of it is painful, and I’ve hated having to go back and remember those painful parts. So I keep putting it away. When Jennifer spoke, something clicked. During a break in the conference, I got the chance to speak with her, and she encouraged me to write it all out. To go to the painful places with God and don’t stop writing until the story is done, resisting the urge to edit as I write. She assured me that it would be hard, but it would also be healing, and when it’s done, the editing can begin. So that is what I’m doing. And it has been hard. But I have felt God in it with me, listening, comforting. I still have a lot of story to write, and then a lot of editing to do, but it’s ok. I am healing.

I didn’t write this just to tell you about a writer’s conference and the awkward angst that is my life. I wrote this to tell you that your story matters, so stop avoiding the hard parts. Go there. Your healing is in the hard parts with God. Tell it to Him, write it out, whatever works for you, but leave nothing out. Then edit what dishonors.

But mostly, I sat down here to tell you this —

Our stories are hard and pain is written into them. But in every story, God is there. Rescuing. Delivering. Providing. Comforting. Healing. Restoring. Saving. If we keep our stories about us, they will remain hard and painful. But when we make it about Him, our story becomes beautiful and full of glory.

God is the glory in your story.

give no advantage

“If you forgive anyone, I do too. For what I have forgiven—if I have forgiven anything—it is for you in the presence of Christ. I have done this so that we may not be taken advantage of by Satan. For we are not ignorant of his schemes.“ 2 Corinthians 2:10-11

Paul is talking to the Church about restoring a sinner back to fellowship, but let’s not miss the implication.  Our unwillingness to forgive gives the enemy an advantage and is part of his scheming against us. In other words, unforgiveness on the part of a believer is a bona fide weapon in the hand of the enemy.

demonic eyesSome offenses are easy to forgive, while others are not. But forgiving someone does not depend on the size or impact of the offense, but on the willingness of our heart. Because forgiveness, like love, is a choice we make, not a feeling we feel. The key, for me, is in recognizing that forgiveness is not just an issue between me and the offender. There are spiritual eyes watching to see if an advantage will be given or not.

Forgiveness is a spiritual game war changer.