Empty, Darkness...Then God Spoke...

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

"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."

"And God said..."

So I've been miserable for a while now...running.  I knew I was running.  I knew I was running from God.

But I didn't know why.

I knew my heart didn't want to hear His voice or seek His face.  But for the life of me, I couldn't discern what the problem was.

It was starting to show in my life, to spill over into other areas.  And I couldn't seem to solve it.

So last night, I finally just said to the Lord, "Examine me, Lord.  Show me what wickedness my heart is embracing."

I was afraid.

But I was also tired of living with a broken fellowship.  Especially when I couldn't figure out why I was behaving this way.

A few minutes later, the quiet answer came--Forgiveness.

And I knew immediately who, and for what.  And that the debt I felt that person owed me was owed only to God Himself.  I had put myself in His place.

And I was ashamed.

If God could forgive this person for violating His nature, who was I to carry on this grudge?  Am I more righteous than God?

And then, this verse tumbled back into my mind, one of the very first ones I ever understood on my own: For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.  (Matthew 6:14-15)

I sin too much to remove myself from God's forgiving grace.  I had to forgive this person.

But by then, I wanted to.  I know that I am not more righteous than God; who was I to exact such punishment?

And finally, there was rest.  The wickedness my heart had been embracing had been revealed by the searching eye of His Spirit, and I was given the freedom to do what was right.

And so, finally, I slept.  I am at peace.  And my Lord is no longer the wrong pole of a magnet to my heart.

And I am grateful.

-J

He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  --Psalm 23:3, NIV

Getting Out of the Boat...Or Not.

I'm not doing well.

I'm doing better physically, though I'm still not 100% yet. But what really pains me right now is how poorly I've done on my own challenge. You remember--the pursuing God challenge?

The very day I issued that challenge, I came down sick. Very sick. And it threw a lot of things in my life, including this. And what I want to do is blame my current spiritual lassitude on having been sick. That would be justifiable, right?

But it wouldn't be honest.

Though my health certainly made spending time with the Lord more of a challenge, the real problem is this:

I've discovered that I've got both feet firmly planted in the boat.

And I do mean firmly. I am not even close to being a risk-taker. Once, on a (3-hour, professionally-administered) temperament analysis test, I scored a 3 out of 100 on risk-taking. Get the picture? I am in NO WAY a risk-taker. If you have ever seen me take a risk, just know that it was a God-thing.

And as it turns out, getting out of the boat is risky.

Here's my current struggle: There was a sacrifice that it occurred to me to make, one that would cost me dearly, financially as well as emotionally, and would have even 'cost' those around me, too. It came to me suddenly, but quietly, so quietly that I wasn't honestly sure that it was God's voice.

And I didn't want to make it.

So I questioned it. I justified it. I finagled it until it wasn't God. I became sure it wasn't God. Or if it was God, the question was just a test, a reminder of an attitude I needed to have.

So I didn't make the sacrifice.

And now, I have the strong and sinking feeling that it WAS God, and it WAS a test...and that I failed with a score of 0 out of 100.

And I so don't want to be me right now.

This feeling is so overwhelming that I have a genuine fear that I have missed something very significant. The kind of something that never gets redeemed. And it makes my heart hurt to think that I am so tied to this world and my comfort and safety that I wouldn't act in faith when God called on me.

I want to be a woman of faith.

But the truth is, today, this month, now, I'm not. I am a woman who's treasure is gonna rot soon, whose fear of the storm keeps her--as it did 11 of the disciples--from even seriously considering getting out of the boat.

And can I tell you that it is those eleven guys that give me hope? I've so often identified with Peter--zealous in heart, but the actions get all mixed up in practice. And promises made, but broken. But in this case, I see myself with the other disciples in the boat and ask myself if they too wondered, "Will I ever get a chance to actually try this again...and get it right?"

And just to be clear, there is no record in Scripture that they did get to take that particular test over again. But each of them did fulfill his mission of being a witness to Christ to the ends of the earth. And that gives me hope.

But it still hurts.

Still His, but faithless,
-J

You know my folly, O God; my guilt is not hidden from you. May those who hope in you not be disgraced because of me, O Lord, the LORD Almighty; may those who seek you not be put to shame because of me, O God of Israel. -Psalm 69:5-6, NIV

...If we died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us; if we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself. - 2 Timothy 2:12-14, NIV

Um...Ouch. Time to Get Out of the Boat

I had a little thought/conversation/realization the other day, and it kinda hurt. And since you guys are getting used to receiving my confessions, well...here goes.

I often find myself walking around thinking about what I'm going to teach "my kids" (middle school class on Sunday) or "my girls" (the high schoolers I meet with throughout the week). This (blessedly-long!) weekend was no exception. I found myself pondering the lessons I wanted to communicate during this Advent Season. And when I got to "my girls," I heard myself 'say' (in my head), "I want them to know that Jesus is worth pursuing."

And then, a still, quiet Voice replied, "So, what about you?"

Uh...um... Have you ever stumbled over your words in your head?! And as I stumbled over this questions, a painful realization swept over me: It would be a serious stretch to say that I pursue Jesus regularly.

I know Jesus (thank You!!). I walk with Him. I obey Him (mostly). I pray. I read and study His Word. I teach His Word. I push/pull/encourage/exhort others to relationship with Him and application of His Word. But do I pursue Him?

There have been times I have. Dedicated periods of listening, seeking...and by His grace, hearing. There have been times where He was all I could and did cling to. But typically? Pursue would not be the right adjective for my life.

And I was saddened.

And challenged. What if I did more than just walk with my God? What if I put my all into knowing Him? What if I ran after my God to hear His voice, to see His face, to feel His heart?

It was thirty-two years ago this fall that I came into the Kingdom of the Son He Loves. I've walked with my God a long time. But what if the verb 'walk' was changed into 'run after'? What would that look like? Wouldn't that amount of effort change...everything?

Recently, I've had this growing sense. It's kinda hard to put into words, but I'll try. I get the feeling that no matter how close I--or anyone--press into knowing God, no matter how well we know Him, we will be overwhelmed by His presence, His glory, the moment we pass through the veil. When we see clearly--except that God Himself give us new bodies and preserve our lives--I truly think the radiance of His glory would simply consume us whole. That's what He is like.

Think about it: The Perfect (having never sinned) creatures in His presence are shown in Scripture to cover their faces and their feet in the presence of His holiness (Isaiah 6). When the saved of all the ages declare the preeminence of the Father and the Lamb, the angels fall on their faces in worship (Revelation 7). How much more would we be overwhelmed by the glory of the Lord? (What I think is that I would like the shock to be as minimal as possible. *wink*) A God whose very radiance is so powerful, and yet who set it all aside to take on the form of a servant (human) and humbled Himself to death, even death on a cross? Surely that is a God worth pursuing.

The Holy Spirit has 'thrown down the gauntlet,' so to speak. Will I pursue Him?

I'm not wholly sure what that will look like, but I know it will look different from the sleepy Scripture readings I tend to do 3 minutes before I fall asleep. I know it will look different from the random and incomplete prayers I often send 'upward.' I know that pursuing God will require more of my time and energy. It will require less of my self-impositions into the process. It's likely it will require sacrifice.

I am a tiny bit scared. My life is kinda comfortable right now. I am wrapped secure in my relationship with God, in the forgiveness and direction He has offered me. Then I think back to C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, when Eustace asks Reepicheep about Aslan (representing Christ), "Is He safe?" "Safe?! No He's not safe. But He's good."

This doesn't feel safe. But it does feel right. And my God IS good.

So, since "Pursue God for the rest of my life" seems a bit too large of a chunk to bite off right away, here is what I am committing to:
1.) I will pursue God in some tangible way every day during this advent season (December 1 to 25).
2.) AND, I will share at least some of what that looks like here.

I just might be launching the journey of my life, and it might be a wild ride. But faith is the siren call, and the only answer I can give is to step out of the safety of my boat.

Here's to life on the sea,
-J

P.S. I don't know what God is working in your life right now, and this might not be the lesson/time for you, but I feel compelled to ask, "Any other takers? Will anyone join me on a 25-day odyssey?"

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
--Philippians 3:7-14, NIV

Something I Probably Shouldn't Share...

You know the saying, confession is good for the soul but bad for the reputation. Well, I probably shouldn't share this, but...

Had a moment yesterday. A brunette-acting-blond moment. It's rather embarrassing, actually. Let me start with my defense. My life is really busy right now, especially at work, and I do feel scattered most of the time, but something like this, well, I can't have dementia yet, can I?

Wednesday, I realized that my follow-up doctor's appointment was Thursday at 11:15 a.m. So I went about arranging to go: informed both bosses and the receptionists, arranged around various work activities, canceled a long-planned lunch with a friend, etc. On Thursday, I was in full-run mode. I was moving and solving from the moment I arrived. At 11:08 a.m., I tore out of the building and rushed to my doctor's office. I arrived at 11:18 a.m. (late, but she always is so I wasn't too worried), signed in, and plunked myself down in the waiting area to read a magazine. My doctor's office is a small, single-doctor office, and I've been going for years, so everyone there knows me by sight (read: there is no anonymity here). A moment after seating myself, the receptionist calls me up to the desk, "Uh, J, your appointment is at 11:15 a.m. on the 20th."

Long pause on my end. "That's next Thursday, isn't it?" "Mmhum," a smile trying to break free from her tightly clasped lips. Me: "Am I the earliest person ever for an appointment?" "Bwahaha..." We both broke out laughing loudly.

All I can say is, I'm glad I'm thirty-five not seventy-five, 'cause they would have sent me in for memory tests in a heartbeat otherwise. Perhaps they should anyway...

A tad embarrassed, but early for once in her life,
-J

(c) 2008

Stepping to His Rhythm

You know, since Tuesday, I've been wanting to post about how amazing it was to see God just open up the floodgates in my discipleship meeting on Tuesday evening. I've never gotten around to it, and now I find my week counterpointed with the disaster of a discipleship meeting I had last night. Ugh.

Firstly, let me tell you that I am the leader of both meetings, and both are with middle/high school students. I love these times, and more often than not, I am amazed at the stuff God puts into my head/mouth. You know the experience...you're talking and as you hear yourself sharing verses or illustrations or connections within Scripture, you're more amazed than the hearer at what appears to be wisdom and truth emitting from you! I love it when God's Spirit makes Himself so evident!

And Tuesday evening was just such a time. As we talked, the conversation moved in ways and directions which I hadn't planned for, but fit so perfectly the needs being stated. It was so very obviously God. But last night...oh last night I messed up so badly. It was so very obviously me, and I hate that.

You know, there are moments in life at which you groan inwardly (or in my case, outwardly) when you remember them. They are too awful or embarrassing or stupid of you to even recount. This was one of them. Let's just say that I've worked for years to create a 'safe' relationship with a very hurting and damaged girl, and just as the doors are beginning to crack open--in a moment of complete brain-shut down--I called her out publicly on something she shared with us. Even now, just sharing that much, I feel like crumpling inside and crying outside.

I've asked for her forgiveness, and for my Father's forgiveness in what was obviously a move of the flesh, not the Spirit. But sometimes you have to ask how your education, training, experience, and common sense can all go on vacation, and why do they have to do it at the same time? If even just one had hung around, I wouldn't have made the blunder I did.

Don't misunderstand. I'm not one who believes in beating oneself up after a mistake or a sin. Confess and repent and 'forget those things which are behind, pressing forward'... But today, I just wonder if I will ever again get the chance to speak into this girl's life in the way I had worked to so hard to be able to. I am just so sad and ashamed.

And so I revisit a lesson I long to have mastered: It matters--every day, every moment--that I keep in step with the Spirit, that my heart be tuned as perfectly as it is able to be to the frequency of His. It matters to those I minister to, those I love, and those I don't know but encounter in daily life. And just so you know, it matters to me that you do the same, 'cause I need you. The Body of Christ is each of us, and when we fall out of step, the whole body suffers.

So today, I recommit to stepping to His rhythm. Will you join me?

-J

(c) 2008

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. --Galatians 5:22-25

The Trouble with Mostlies

Something hit me this past week, a realization that is disturbing, and worse...convicting.

I tend to, at least lately, give God my "mostlies." Do you know what I mean? I...mostly obey, mostly prepare, am mostly honest, diligent, patient, faithful. I am not, however, fully {fill in blank}. I am not giving God 100%, and thus, I'm not giving anyone 100%, not my friends, family, nor employer. It makes me squirm just to type this, 'cause I know that 'mostlies' don't cut it. I know that as a believer, I'm not allowed to cut such corners.

Now, lest you think I don't have a good reason for my 'mostlies,' I do: I don't want to. Isn't that a great reason? I am tired or irritated or lazy or selfish or greedy or whatever the sinful motivation may be, and I just don't want to. That'll get me off, huh?

I Timothy 4:12, 15
Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity...Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. NIV

Now the young part is getting to be questionable (If God says most will live to 70-ish, then I've just hit middle age--ugh!), but the principle is clear: Live your life so that you are an example in speech, life, love, faith, purity. Do these things diligently, giving yourself wholly to them, so that you might be an example.

Well, I've been an example lately. A quiet, bad example.

What I really want is for me to just stop being this way. But what I recognize is a pattern, a habit, and habits have to be 'unpracticed' to be removed. I think I have some work ahead of me. It's not going to be easy...my flesh likes the slack it's been cut. But somehow, this 90% attitude that has crept in is keeping me from being all God calls me to be. And not being all He asks of me is simply not possible. The cost was already too high, and since I'm not my own, well, there's not really a decision to make, is there? Obedience to the One who gave all is the call. So...

Out with the mostlies...On to fullies now.

-J

(c) 2008

I Had a Secret (Or, Things We Don't Share In Certain Circles)

I have a secret. Or, more accurately, I had a secret. It's the kind that, well, certain people wouldn't understand.

See, in Christian circles, there are certain things--some sins, some just struggles--that we don't talk about . These run the gambit--depression, pornography, managing sensual desires, trusting God, etc.
It's not that all sins that are taboo. We have our favorite sins and we feel very free to talk about these, often in very flippant ways: worry, lack of discipline, disrespecting our leaders, gossip.

But there are still some things that, well, are just awkward to bring up. Things that, if shared, would make people wonder about you, about where you stand with God. That's where my secret comes in.

For years, I didn't love Jesus.

Well there it is. I've gone and made it public to the whole world. I didn't feel what most of Christendom feels. No warm fuzzies. Really, very little emotion in that direction at all. I was usually grateful. But that's not the same thing.

Let me back up. I grew up in a very loving home, where I believed in Christ at a young age. All of my growing up years, and even into adulthood, I had a very clear picture of God the Father. See, if he was anything like my father, I could relate. My father wasn't perfect--as the Father is--but he was a good and loving parent. When I prayed to the father (in Jesus' name, of course), I could picture coming before Him and could see His intent and loving eyes on me. When I needed comfort, I could picture crawling up in His lap or leaning my head against His shoulder. Even when I was in trouble, I knew that He was seeking to bring me to my best for His glory, not to whap on me. The Father I 'got,' and the Father I loved.

The way I saw it was that Jesus had come to reveal the Father (John 17:25-26, "Righteous Father...I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known..."). He pointed us toward the Father, and then made a way to the Father (John 14:6, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one come to the Father except through me."). I didn't get why I should love Jesus. It seemed to me that His role was to introduce the Father.

But it didn't sit quite right with me. Firstly, many, many people did love Jesus, and seemed to think that this was normal and right. A little Christian peer pressure, so to speak. This made me think that I was missing something, and that thought brought me to...

Secondly, the Father exalted the Son, and made Him His focus (John 8:54, "My Father... is the one who glorifies Me."). Surely, Jesus was more important than the role to which I was relegating Him, that of a spiritual matchmaker. As I began to investigate this, I realized that...

Thirdly, the Father loves the Son (John 17:24, "Father...You loved Me before the creation of the world."). Whoa... The Father loves the Son? Love is important, then. Loving Jesus is important. Shouldn't I love what--and who--the Father loves? Clearly, I was missing something here.

Finally, Jesus said that our love for Him is connected with our obedience. Well, sometimes it's really hard to be obedient, and I needed every advantage I could get. Jesus said in John 14:15, "If you love Me, you will obey what I command." Surely the reverse is true also: If I don't love Him, I won't be keeping His commands. This was very sticky.

Once I realized I needed to love Jesus, I wasn't sure how to go about loving Him. To love the Father was natural. How did one go about falling in love with the Son?

On occasion, I have slipped away to the mountains to pray. On one such occasion not quite two years ago, I sat down to a lengthy conversation with my Savior. His presence was so real to me that all the worldly and insignificant concerns that I had seemed to melt away. But this one was left. "Jesus, I don't know you." Ouch, my secret was out, and it seemed awful. But quickly, His quiet answer came. "I and the Father are one." (John 10:30)

It was as if the sun had just suddenly burst into the sky, as if spring had routed winter in one single breath. Suddenly, I understood. I couldn't love the Father without also loving the Son, for He is in the Father and the Father is in Him (John 14:10-11). All along, I had been loving the Son, I just didn't know it!

One tiny phrase, six little words, but the ache, the pillars of shame and fear in my heart were suddenly banished. I could love Him; I did love Him. His love was already mine.

It's amazing how revolutionary this simple--basic, even--truth has been in my life. Sometimes these days, I will sit in enthralled worship, reveling in the fact the not only does He love me, but I can and do love Him too. What a gift this truth is.

And now, when others say they love Jesus, I understand. For my heart is bursting with love--and gratefulness--for the one who came to introduce me to the Father and to give me life now and forever.

I really do love Him. I really do.

-J

NIV
(c) 2007