Tag Archives: Jesus

2:00 a.m. and my heart is full

My little office/prayer room. Couch, cozy blanket. Candles burning, filling the room with the smell of cinnamon. Bibles, books and journals spilled out onto the couch.

(All Sons and Daughters are singing Called Me Higher. Makes me close my eyes and sway to the sound.)

My bible is next to me, a worn but comfortable friend. I begin to randomly turn pages, feeling His breath rising up from the words.  I breathe it in deep and my thoughts respond.

“And God said ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”   Profound power. This “Let there be” that is obeyed every time…it makes me crave Your voice over my life.

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; He seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor”  You don’t push down, You raise up. I want to be like You.

“…You are the ruler of all things. In Your hands are strength and power…”  All things. All. Things. And the hands that hold me and mine and all things, they are strong, powerful hands.

(And now Jason Upton is singing You Are Holy and I have to stop.)

“This is what the Lord says—Israel’s King and Redeemer, the Lord Almighty: I am the first and I am the last;  apart from me there is no God. Who then is like Me? Let him proclaim it.”  The silence is deafening. You stand alone in Your God-ness. You came first, You will be last, with none in-between. I bow right here, in the silence of no other god.

“The Lord said to me, “Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.”  Such a scandalous love, and You don’t hide it.  It is overwhelming. Unearthly. Heavenly.

“Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”  The invitation to rest. I’m so glad that You know that the world I live in continually calls me to “do more, go farther, be better”. You know the weight of the yoke I am prone to come under; the one that has “Not enough” written all over it. I love that You know. And You invite me to You. To rest. If I will just come.

“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”  Rich grace. Poured out, not measured. I am over my head deep in this grace. I want to live it, give it to others, let it be the lens that I look through. I don’t want to keep looking at the world through squinty, judging eyes behind the closed door of my life. I want to open them all wide.  Teach me grace.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I am finally tired.

(Fittingly, Jason Upton sang one final song…)

..to end my time of breathing in His breath, surrounded by the warmth of candles, Presence, and the scent of cinnamon. My heart is full, having discovered again that His heart is good.

Genesis 1:3    1Samuel 2:8   1Chronicles 29:12   Isaiah 44:6-7   Hosea 3:1   Matthew 11:28   1Corinthians 1:8-9

measuring grace

Measuring-TapeI didn’t measure up again today. Yesterday I fell really, really short. In fact, the measuring tape hasn’t delivered good news for me in quite a long time, and today I just woke up feelin’ it, very aware of the heaviness of it.

I think God knew.

He’s been whispering “grace” to me for weeks, in various forms. Doing battle for me behind my back. This morning He thrust the sword into my own hand.

“You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified. I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort? Have you suffered so much for nothing—if it really was for nothing? Does God give you his Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?” (Galatians 3:1-5, emphasis mine)

Faith in grace. That’s where it began. It didn’t begin with me measuring up, nor will it end that way. It is by faith, from first to last.

“For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.” (Romans 1:17)

Why is grace so hard for us? Why do we chase our tails trying to be good enough when we were never good enough to begin with and that’s why this whole thing started? That’s why “it is finished” was ever spoken in the first place.

I pondered all of it this morning, as I let God remove the heaviness like we remove a winter coat. I retraced back to grace and all is well because I can’t earn what is free. And it seemed good. Seemed done. But it wasn’t.

Because sometimes we drink down His grace and something in us still says “more”. Because sometimes bewitching looks different than we expect, especially when it looks like I’m not trying to measure up to God at all. I’m trying to measure up to you.

To the ones who do it all and do it well. Those of you who have self-control in spades and never struggle with sin. You, with your perfect life, perfect happiness, perfect job, perfect hair, perfect spouse, perfect everything.

You, the one who doesn’t exist, except in my wildly rampant imagination on days when the feeling of failure is exceptionally present. The days when my usual pep talk to self turns downright abusive. The days when I want to slap you, you non-existent perfect person, but instead I spend the day crying and binge eating.

And to this God still whispers grace, it is finished. On my worst bewitched days, He leads me right back to the cross, where all measuring ends, and grace begins.

Everything begins and ends at the cross. And there’s just no measuring grace.

after the car wreck

Yesterday was the worst day so far, since the accident. My husband and I went out to run an errand. I held his hand. In a death grip. With the other hand I held the arm of the door with that same death grip. Throughout the ride I gasped and cringed, even though my husband was driving very carefully, and even describing everything he was doing the whole time, letting me know he saw every car and was very aware of his surroundings. Still, my heart raced.

And I cried. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because this thing has such a grip on me. I cried because I need to get back to my life and that means being in the car, and I can’t. I just can’t.

We arrived back home and I felt utterly defeated. And then we had to turn right back around and go out again, to go to church (we were going to the evening service). It was almost too much for me, but I did it, determined not to cry this time.  Instead, I asked Jesus to help me with this fear, got into the car, and made it all the way to church without crying. And that’s where He met me with a revelation that, I think, has changed this game.

It was during worship (don’t EVER underestimate the importance of entering into worship, even when you don’t feel like it). During this song we sang these lyrics:

I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
There is no one like You God
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
No other name be lifted high

And suddenly I knew.

I had exalted my fear. Granted it permission to take over my heart. Played the game like my fear was the biggest, baddest, strongest player on the field. I wrecked my car and now fear was wrecking me. Fear was winning the game. That made me mad.

And so I sang. And my song became a prayer. “I will exalt YOU. No other. YOU. Nothing else has the right to hold my heart above You. Nothing. I lift You high. Higher than the accident. Higher than pain. Higher than guilt. Higher than fear. I exalt You.

The drive home was easier, but I attributed it to the fact that it was dark out, and what I can’t see can’t scare me. (Silly, right? Because what we can’t see is EXACTLY what scares us!) I couldn’t imagine that a few moments in worship that birthed a revelation that birthed a prayer, could work that fast. (My rock hard faith amazes me sometimes.)

So I just have to ask. What about you? Is there something that is being exalted in your heart or in your mind that has no right to be lifted that high?

Is there a fear, anger, an illness, or a disappointment that has become higher than Jesus? How about a desire, a spouse, or a child? A gifting, a calling, even a ministry?

What grips your heart?

Let it be Jesus.

i drank from a garden hose and it doesn’t matter

“One generation will commend Your works to another…”

I am part of the generation who grew up in the 60’s and 70’s. Free love that was never really free. An anti-war generation that rallied for peace while fighting an internal war by escaping down psychedelic rabbit holes.

There is so much that my generation can pass on, and we certainly do try, don’t we? We love talking about how simple life was back then. How different, how much better things were. But this morning I was struck by Psalm 145:4, and I realized that we spend far too much time commending memories that are evidently being remembered through rose colored glasses. Because frankly, many of us who grew up in that era were just messed up.

So here’s the deal. I don’t care if you know that I drank freely from the water hose, and played outside until the streetlights came on. It won’t help you to know that we slept in painted cribs, rode around without seat belts or airbags, or that kids failed entire grades in school because they deserved to fail. I don’t care if you ever know what life was like “back in my day”.

Here is what I want you to know…

God…relentlessly pursued my heart down every rabbit hole, every dark corridor, through every bad choice. He never gave up. He chased me until I was finally broken enough to stop running. Because I am not just a face in the crowd to Him. I am not just an unseen part of  “so loved the world”. And neither are you. You are not only loved, you are wanted by the Father who created you. He is the relentless pursuer of your running heart.

God…healed me on the inside. In the unseen places where I was incurably broken, He healed me. I was convinced I had little or no worth. He healed me. I was hurt and I was angry. He healed me. I had been used and discarded. He healed me. Because that’s who He is. Healer. He desires to heal the deep places in you, to convince your heart that you are worth much. Are you going here and there and everywhere trying to find what can put you back together? Are you convinced that nothing will be able to fix what is broken? I commend to you…God. You are not so broken that He cannot make you whole. It’s not too late, you haven’t gone too far, and there is no such thing as too damaged. For man, yes, but not for God. Not for your Healer.

God…gave me purpose. After years of wandering, looking for something I couldn’t define, I was left convinced that there was very little real purpose to my life. I would live and die and neither would have any impact on the earth. But as all of that began to fall away under the love of Jesus, it revealed the truth. I was created on purpose, with purpose, by my Father. My life matters, and so does yours. In knitting you together in your mother’s womb, He wove in the uniqueness that is you, the gift of you. You have giftings, talents that you may or may not be aware exist, but they are there on purpose. And the work of God, the advancement of His Kingdom, the release of captives, the healing of broken people, all of it needs you and your gifting. He has people for you to meet, places for you to go, things for you to do. You, and your life matter. You are you on purpose, with purpose.

God…gave me rest. Removing the shame and guilt that kept me running, He taught me what stillness looks like inside and out. He gave me rest from trying to earn love and worth, from Him or anyone else. Earning is a wearying business is it not? Two steps forward, nine steps back now start all over and there’s no such thing as a truly clean slate. We may have that “so what?” look on the outside, but we’re black and blue on the inside, damage done by our own fists of self-loathing and there aren’t enough Hail Marys to be said. But there is God, and His invitation is not “try harder”, but “come to Me and I will give you rest”. Rest from earning what cannot be earned, but is freely given by Him. He invites us to let our bruises heal, unclench our fists, stop doing penance for what only His blood can take away. And speaking of blood that doesn’t just wipe the slate clean, it destroys the slate all together…speaking of that blood…

God…saved me. I could comprehend that God is good, even loving. But the heart-shocking truth is that He is so good and so loving He sent the innocent to pay for my guilt, giving His Son over to death so that death could be conquered for me. So that the slate that held my record of sins would be forever destroyed, my filthy clothes would be forever removed, so that my forever would be forever changed. God pursued me straight to Golgotha, and there I discovered just how much I was worth to my Father. You are worth no less.

To the generation coming behind me, I commend to you the works of God. Powerful, majestic, fearsome. Kind, loving, merciful. Faithful and unfailing. Pursuer of hearts, Healer of broken, rest for weary. Savior.

I drank from a garden hose.

                        He loves you so much He died.

                Which is worth commending?

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.”

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. 

 

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.