What the Rain Really Brings

"Bring the Rain" by Mercyme

I can count a million times

People asking me how I

Can praise You with all that I've gone through

The question just amazes me

Can circumstances possibly

Change who I forever am in You

Maybe since my life was changed

Long before these rainy days

It's never really ever crossed my mind

To turn my back on you, oh Lord

My only shelter from the storm

But instead I draw closer through these times

So I pray

Bring me joy, bring me peace

Bring the chance to be free

Bring me anything that brings You glory

And I know there'll be days

When this life brings me pain

But if that's what it takes to praise You

Jesus, bring the rain

I am Yours regardless of

The dark clouds that may loom above

Because You are much greater than my pain

You who made a way for me

By suffering Your destiny

So tell me what's a little rain

So I pray

Holy, holy, holy

Is the Lord God Almighty

*********************************

It's rainy season right now. Actually, there's a torrential downpour going on and I want to shake my first and gnash my teeth and ask, "why?"

But when I truly quiet myself, soothe the frightened and upset child within, when I listen for my Father's voice

I hear this:

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."

~ Romans 8:18

And when I want to yell at God and ask Him why my present is so painful and full of strife after such a painful childhood and 20-something-years, when I want to demand that God answer me why now after such a trial before...I hear this:

"Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him." 

~ James 1:12

And while I know God doesn't necessarily cause the rain and and the tornado and the lifestorms

God certainly knows when it is in our best interest to experience such rain because it will grow us into better creations.

It's hard to ask God to bring the rain.

Who wants such trials?

But struggle forces us to strain under the pressure of the fact that we don't control all of this and struggle gives us eyesight to see Who does.

A lack of ground gives us the very ground we most need to stand on.

And so that is what I am holding onto this night when I ought to be in bed but I'm plagued by anxieties and thoughts of what-do-we-do-now's. When I worry about my family and our future. When I worry about everything. When I feel the downpour, rain hitting my face like pellets.

I know I am growing. I know my family grows under the weight of this rain because I know that God has us all in His hand.

And so Lord, I pray to you and I praise you. I praise you in this storm and while I do not understand your why's, I understand that your Son died for me and that ugly storm redeems all of my own storms. I praise you for the goodness and blessings you provide for us daily. I praise you for the graces that rain down upon us as well and I thank you for these opportunities - every storm which turns, one day, into the redemption stories we tell - I thank you for these opportunities to proclaim your faithfulness.

And I know there'll be days 

where this life brings me pain

but if that's what it takes to praise you

then, Jesus, bring the rain...

Light in the Midst, Out Of, Despite, and Because of Dark: my Easter Day

I ask you for grace as Husband plays around with the videos I made last night. They all came out upside-down.

In the meantime, it is upside-down here in terms of weather, too. Which makes perfect sense on this Easter day.

Two thousand years ago, some thought Jesus couldn't be the true Messiah because he had just died on the cross. So, walking sadly away from Calvary, they thought the criminal whose death made the earth shake was just another dead criminal.

Still, some held out hope for their Teacher and Friend. Despite hopelessness and fear, upon hearing the news, Peter, John, and Mary ran to the stone-opened grave. The men entered to find the lone grave clothes. They were shocked, "saw and believed," yet did not understand that Jesus had truly risen (John 20:8-9).

And Mary, sweet Mary who thought the gardener had taken her Teacher someplace...Mary's eyes were opened upon Jesus' very poignant call of her name.

It amazes me that all Jesus had to do was call her by name and she could see who He truly was. It reminds me of the scales that fell off Saul's eyes. Both could see with holy vision afterward, though their "scales" were different.

I think our sky had scales today.

It was to be a cloudy day. The weather forecast said that Good Friday would be sunny and warm(er) and today, Easter, would be cloudy. I felt disappointed. Couldn't it be the other way around? Good Friday I'd be mourning. I wouldn't mind clouds. But Easter...oh, blessed Easter...as we released our balloons in church and as children ran back and forth in new, fancy dresses, as the sanctuary lit up with fragrant lilies and Allelujah's, wouldn't it be appropriate for the forecast to deem that day full of sun and light?

A pause in the weather forecast for a moment.

**************

Last night from 11:00pm-12:00am I went to the prayer vigil at my church.

Each person could sign up for a time slot and, as I explained earlier, it would be like sitting vigil beside a dying friend. Last year's prayer vigil was highly emotional for me and I awaited this with a pounding and full heart.

My hour was once again beautiful and God showed up, despite how I kept telling Him I was showing up for Him.

After an hour of writing, whispering, crying from the heart, singing, lighting candles, talking, finally it was time to rejoice.

This is my secret:

I saw Easter early.

I saw Easter last year, too. Sneaky, I know. But I was so curious as to what our sanctuary looked like.

Of course, I thought, is this okay? Can't I just take a peek?

I saw the dark narthex and, through the windows, dark seemed to sing.

Dark sang because I knew Life was there. I wanted to hear its song. 

I opened the doors. The scent of lilies filled my nose before I caught sight of the flower settings up front. I fumbled for lights and the only ones I could find were the ones up by the cross. The picture below is what I saw - unedited by any picture software ..this is the amazing light that filled the room.

Life pulsed through me. I could smell, feel, taste Life all around. Tears filled me to the brim - but not mournful tears as I'd been used to. I wanted to celebrate.

Last year, when I walked into the newly-Easter sanctuary, and I knew I was alone in the church so I sang Natalie Grant's song, "Alive" (see video later) with great passion. Last night, however, there were people in the prayer vigil room while I took my early glance at Easter so I walked around in awestruck silence.

Had I thought it would be any difference? Doesn't Easter happen every year?

Yet still, here I was, an innocent child dancing happy because Jesus Christ filled the room anew - all things new - Yes, we celebrate His resurrection and life every year, but shouldn't this be celebrated anew each year?

I was giddy. Light permeated me.

Life in the midst of darkness. Light out of darkness. Light despite darkness.

Light because of darkness.

That is Easter.

*****************
Let's return to the weather forecast.

I arrived at church early for the 9am service to practice with the Praise Team. While we rehearsed the songs for the morning, I noticed my face warm and lit, all lit up like how the prayer vigil candles lit up the night before.

It was the sun. Sun poured in the sanctuary windows.

And we sang and we proclaimed Jesus' resurrection and we prayed and we thanked God.

I thanked God all day for His upside-down Kingdom.

How the very least of us are loved, how the lowliest become kings and the most sacrificial become rich.

How the weatherman can call for clouds, but Jesus has other plans.

It's been an interesting day. I've found beautiful new music, such as this Jonathan and Emily Martin. On the web site, NoiseTrade, you can download their album for free (and tip them as you see fit, which I recommend). My favorite songs and the ones that have been on loud and repeat today are "Greatest Treasure" and "O Great Vine."

Here is Jonathan Martin giving you a preview and a bit of backstory about "Greatest Treasure."

I've worked on this blog entry all day, with my candle lit beside me and the sky holding onto that sun.

Easter day is drawing to an end and tomorrow is Monday.

No doubt we will face dark in days to come. That is guaranteed.

But what is beautiful about Jesus is that we are new in Him and He gives new mercies every morning (2 Corinthians 5:17 and Lamentations 3:22-23) and, when we love, believe, and follow the Christ...

the Monday after Easter isn't just another day.

Do listen to "Alive" by Natalie Grant. Watch the accompanying video, too. It is from the docudrama about Jesus by Olive Branch Media.  I am fascinated by the depiction of Jesus. No doubt the actor chosen will surprise you - for he does not look like the "normal" Jesus usually depicted. I love how they reenact this very much. I pray the music and video, both, minister to you, give you hope and a cause to celebrate and declare, "He is alive!"

Happy Easter, friends. I have truly enjoyed getting a chance to write on my blog with more frequency this week. I'm grateful to God for providing me with such time and opportunity. I do not know what the future holds in terms of time. I might not be able to continue writing here with great frequency. As seen, my blog ebbs and flows a bit. Though I would like more consistency, God calls me to focus on my husband and children more than my blogging pursuits. I know, however, that God will use my writing to glorify Him in whatever way He sees fit. In the meantime, I thank you, dear friend, for stopping by for a bit and taking in my words, thoughts, and heart. 

Have a blessed Easter and every day that follows.

How the Title of My Story Is Not Mine

(written Friday, February 8, 2013)

I've always liked naming things

When I was a writer-child and delving deep into 7-year-old-plot lines about magic mirrors and orphan girls banding together to esce evil, I deeply cared about my characters' names as well as the places they lived.

The title of my stories were the most important, of course. The title could tell you the entire story, itself.

Or so I thought. I relied on my titles to express what I was going through at such a tender age.

Well, now I am a few months shy of my 35th birthday and I have a different story to tell. But, much like my child-writer-self, I depend on that title, that name, to define what my story is.

When all along...it is His story...not mine. And He names it. Not me.

Three or so years ago, I remember getting a pain in the vicinity of my abdomen.

Two years ago I noticed a very specific pain in my right lower abdomen. I remember having to stand, hunched over. It came and went and I knew why they call pain "waves."

Then, in January of 2012, I began having issues that sent me to my doctor, then to urgent care, and then, in February, to the first of what would become a few emergency room visits in one year.

Throughout 2012, I baffled everyone. I'd attend an appointment or sit on the ER bed in tears over the amount of pain I was in. Nurses drew blood, doctors peered down at results; all told me I was normal.

But I knew something wasn't right.

I went to see an "expert" and he, with the help of his assistant, prescribed an unusual diet and an even more unusual regime in which I did not feel comfortable.

I was nervous about their orders, but when I tried to ask questions, they batted them away like irritating flies and the "expert" actually walked out on me, saying, "You'll do fine, fine..."

I was not doing fine and no one would listen to me. No professional doctor, anyway.

Home life was becoming increasingly stressful in 2012 in ways I cannot nor should I go into. But my stress did play a part in my worsening symptoms.

Also playing a part were the nurses telling me it was all in my head, that I was just too anxious, that I had too much stress.

I felt unacknowledged, unheard, invalidated.

During this time, my daily life was a push against the fleshly instincts of wanting to exert control on my life - or the lives around me. If I couldn't control my own life, I'd clamp around others' My temper flared. I spit red anger at kids for the smallest things. And I fell into a pit of despair around the Fall of 2012 going into early January of '13.

I was exhausted. I had had numerous procedures, one too painful to want to remember, and still no answer.

But I knew that whatever I was walking around with that God was beside me. I could feel His Presence, but I wasn't sure what He was telling me.

Until today in the car after an appointment that I thought would give me the title to my story.

A few days ago I found out that, unbeknownst to me, my mother had Endometriosis in her early 40s as well as fibroid cysts and, ultimately, had to have a hysterectomy.

I went to my doctor with this new genetic possibility...and, besides, it fit my pain so well. It had all the descriptions, it had all the correct verbs and adjectives. I found my character in the book of Endometriosis.

And when my general practitioner gave me an exam and said she thought she felt something...that could be Endo...I grasped onto that name, that diagnosis, that title, and ran as though my life depended on it.

I wanted to shout it from the roof - or at least out my car windows: I have Endometriosis! I have a name for it! I can tell you what it is and what they are going to do and when I will get better!

And there is a certain understandable element to clutching onto a diagnosis after years of unnameable pain.

Yet...I feel ashamed now looking at how I proclaimed and gun-jumped regarding the maybe-diagnosis.

Today I felt foolish as I visited the doctor who said I very well might have Endo, but that all my pain was most likely not caused by this illness.

I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

I felt like my cover was torn off of my story.

And then, after the angry tears and words in the car, I felt the Lord's hand on my shoulder and the Lord's heart speak directly to mine:

Do you think that you can't give Me glory by getting through exactly this? Do you think that you need a specific sign above your heard that advertises your ailments? Those on-lookers at Golgotha had no clue why My Son truly cried out in pain. Jesus had "King of the Jews" as the sign above him and even that was man's folly. You don't need a sign, child. You don't need to prove to anyone that you hurt. All my children hurt in some way; that is just the way, isn't it. You are not so different. How you can be Kingdom-different...and bring Me glory... is to praise Me even when your body hurts, even when you are angry and sad and confused. Bring all of that to Me. Do not rest your idolizing on doctors or family. They can't validate you the way I can. They can't name you. 

Child, I can name you. I did name you:

Chosen. Beloved. Heir. Holy and faithful. Forgiven. Loved. 

Do you need more names? Because I have them all - in Scripture. 

Child, open that Bible to get your title. Don't expect a doctor to give it to you. Don't hope for something that many people dread. I named you before you were even born.

I was astonished. Had I actually been...hoping?

And am I actually writing all this...now? To you, the public?

Yes, I am. I do not hide behind my computer screen very well. I know I sometimes have flawed boundaries, but I also know that with that flaw comes the deep need to live with a healthy dose of transparency so that I can admit when thoughts have shaped wrong and life has gone askew.

And...yes...life has gone askew.

I thought that if I had a diagnosis of some illness, then I could battle through it by relying on God's strength within me, go through my "valley of the shadow," for sure, but then come out the other side with more bolstering faith than I'd know what to do with.

Many of my favorite authors and radio hosts have that kind of story. They've endured horrific things: abuse, illness, atrocity. And yet here they are now, with books or programs or ministries - all serving God in such honorable ways.

So did I think I had to do it that way?

I really did.

I sigh a big sigh right now. It is sad and shameful to know that I thought that way.

That I really believed I had to let the world name me in order to serve God.

The suffering I endured for much of my life has been nameless and general. Some doctors tried to link my severe depression in my teens and 20s to more specific things like bipolar or borderline personality disorder.

But, truly, my entire life was in dis-order. I didn't know whether I was coming or going until I fell onto the floor in 2010 and saw the Lord before me and that Great Whoosh came upon me and I changed, I grew, I stretched, and I made the best decision of my life.

Jesus never promised us easy. He promised His Presence during the hard (John 16:33) so why did I think that my story would be like others'?

My confession, my prayer, with head bowed is this:

Lord, I confess to you my sin of comparison. You created me to be unique and special unto You and I must believe that I am. I must believe what Your Word says of me and because of those promises I come to You seeking forgiveness for wanting the doctors to give me a title to my story, a name to my pain. I was trying to be the Author and not letting you work through me. I think and write all the time about the concept of "letting go." I write and read and think about the concept of gratitude all the time - and yet all this writing, reading, and thinking has not brought me to a true understanding of ...

"Be still and know that I am God." 
~ Psalm 46:10a

Such a simple-sounding and oft-used verse, but I studied it in some detail and You revealed it to me and I thank you. Help me to cease striving. Help me to stop trying to be my own Author and to live the life You have written for me. I know You are not done yet and so I remain Your servant, a child who loves You and wants to glorify You in the love and strength and faith that I carry with me every day. Help my honest outpourings in this blog illuminate some truth for some person. Let someone understand better what took me much pain to learn - and which I am still learning. 

I thank you for my body that can walk and talk and move and pump blood and work as well as it does. I know there are so many who do not have that. I pray for all who suffer - in mind, body, and spirit. I pray that they would seek You and know You to be the God of all Comforts and find rest and peace in that truth. 

Continue to grow me, Lord. Continue to draw me closer to You and to write my story. 

I think the best title, the best name I can think of is:

Yours. 

I belong to the Lord. 

I am Yours.

In Your Holy Name I pray,
Amen.

And so I stumble upon this verse and chuckle:

"What do people get for all the toil and anxious striving with which they labor under the sun? All their days their work is grief and pain; even at night their minds do not rest. This too is meaningless."

~ Ecclesiastes 2:22-23

For hasn't all my anxiety and worry been toil and meaningless? I bathed in grief and pain and yes, even at night, this mind did not rest.

And then I think of the God of All Comforts verse in 2 Cortinthians 1:3-5 (ESV):

" Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too."

************************************

February 12, 2013

Friends, since the days since I drafted this blog entry out, much more has been revealed, particularly about the rest of 2 Corinthians 1 which adds so much to my story. 

While it is a difficult journey to allow God to name me and to not be lured in by false names, I am dedicated as I walk this road. 

I thank you for reading my words, bare and naked, and hope that you give mercy and forgiveness for this one's naivety. 

Thank you for such grace. 

May you be blessed as you walk with the Lord this week and always.

If Thirst, Have Drink

What to say when I haven't said anything for over a month?

I feel guilty.  I feel ashamed. I feel embarrassed.

I also know that I have been attending to things that were, perhaps, more important than my blog.

God has put on my heart numerous times the fact that I have worshiped the online world. And I'm not talking about Facebook or some no-brainer web site...I'm talking about spending hours and hours reading amazing faith-filled blogs, connecting with amazing online sisters-in-Christ, researching faith-related questions, listening to Christian music, adding to my Guinness Book of World Records-Big-Christian library...

these are all good things, right?

"When one is thirsty one quenches one's thirst by drinking, not by reading books which treat of this condition" ~ Jean Pierre de Caussade

and Ann Voskamp, in "One Thousand Gifts," continues, saying,

If we are dying of thirst, passively reading books about water quenches little;

the only way to quench the parched mouth is to close the book

and dip the hand into water and bring it to the lips. 

If we thirst, we'll have to drink.

I would have to do something.

(p44)

It took a few times of being knocked on the side of the head for me to get it, but I was idolizing my desire to learn more - but not through spending time with God or reading Scripture, but by being the academic and reading those beautifully-written, what-I-term "Christian living" books and soaking up those authors' knowledge about the Christian life because...come on...I like to hear a woman a bit older than me telling me about her troubled past and how God redeemed it. 

We like success stories.

We like stories in which we can relate.

And yet...

Mary is a success story. Paul, too, don't you think? A nobody becoming a Somebody. In fact...isn't that what God's Kingdom is all about? It is our world that is so upside-down. God yearns to make us nobodies into Somebodies. 

So many people in the Bible struggled. I can relate to so many of them - they were all sinners, just like me. Why wasn't I reading the Bible for the relateable stories?

I feel God silenced me in some ways. Every time I wanted to write a blog entry, something interfered - a child needing something, Husband needing something, work, other hobbies, whatever it was, something in the past month always got in the way of me sitting down here and writing. 

I realized, after years of grumpy and sometimes anger-exploding-mornings, that I need to sit and pray before I start the day. 

I realized, after hearing the message over and over from different sources, unknown to the other, that I needed to seek God's wisdom about important things going on in my life...

and I needed to take a break from the internet. I needed to take a break from my Christian blog-perusing, even my own blog-writing. 

Then came the day (ironically, after a Christmas gift card was used on Amazon to buy fabulous Christian books) when I felt God say to me to put down every single book except for the Bible for one week. 

And I did.

I'd like to say that an epiphany came and I spent time seeped in God's Word every day for hours and have notebooks and notebooks of journaling to show for it. I'd like to say that I feel that peace which surpasses all understanding. I'd at least like to say that I feel better. 

But I can't say that. Because I don't feel better. 

My health problems worsen, marriage strain still exists, chaotic children drama still occurs daily. 

And, what is worse than that, to me: I barely even got into God's Word this week. 

I did, however, put down all other books. 

It is taking a great deal of courage to type all this down. For so long I've wanted this blog to be a place of wisdom and safety. A place where people could come and read and feel comforted and possibly even ministered to (read the newer About Me). 

But, somehow, I got it in my ego-driven little head that I had to "write pretty." Oh, I could ask the hard questions all right. And I often do ask the hard questions. But I knew that was a good thing to do. We should all be asking the hard questions, right?

But when it came down to doing the hard thing...

what was it I learned that weekend away?...

the real meaning of eucharisteo....

and I stumbled upon, while link-jumping, this old blog entry of mine...

which just about blew my mind...

and I realized that I wasn't doing what I wrote about. I was doing a lot of reading, thinking, writing, talking...but I wasn't doing. 

I wasn't obeying; I wasn't truly listening for God's wisdom; I wasn't truly sitting in God's Presence. 

I only truly wrote about it.

So as I sit here now, I feel a bit better about my blog objectives. I know I can't just write pretty anymore. If I am going to be any kind of friend, much less a mentor or disciple, I have to get down on my hands and knees and get honest with God. 

God, I am sorry that I have walked the walk but did not fully engage the way You want. I am sorry that I made other things into idols: internet, books, music, church activities. Yes, even these very "godly" things can become dangerous idols if depended upon too much. And so, Lord, I seek Your forgiveness and ask for Your wisdom and guidance as I step into the knowledge that I need to read Your Word more. I ask for Your blessing and help in fighting off the enemy - both my own apathy and the real enemy that seeks to kill and destroy. I ask You to direct my footsteps, now and always. Amen.

And so, with some heart-pounding, I joined Ann Voskamp's community over at ScriptureTyper. 

It is called "The Romans Project"  and you can click that link as well as this one from Ann's blog describing why she decided to do this. And you can also click on the badge to the right and be connected to the community to which I have made myself accountable. I just signed up and perused it. I am overwhelmed. 

I used to be so good at memorization, but in early college I had a dreadful, traumatic experience in my theatre class and because of that mess (which included my brain blanking on the script during a testing performance) I walked away from the stage and from any and all confidence in my memorization ability. So I came to this project with clammy hands, afraid to fail myself...but more afraid to fail God. 

But in my stumbling and falling, lately and always, I do know that God would rather me try and fail than not try at all. He'd rather me try to dig into His Word than keep that Bible closed. And who knows...if I stop leaning on my own understanding...who knows what things I could accomplish?

So I invite you. You who are flawed and messy. You who spend too much time watching mindless television because you feel too depressed to get off the couch. You who are a closet-theologian and think that you know just about all you need to know. You who doubt your own ability to get anything right. I invite all of you. Let's take this challenge to memorize God's Word. It is one of the most important things we can do. 

Ann Voskamp writes, 

"God gives us time. And who has time for God?" (p64, "One Thousand Gifts")

Let's make time for God. I think it is the one habit He would have us do. Don't you?

What You Find When You Peel Back the Tree

Copyright (c) <a href='http://www.123rf.com'>123RF Stock Photos</a>

The past two Christmases I've written excitably about the season, feeling inspired and touched by the meaning, the reality of it all.

The past two Christmases are the first two that I've truly known Christ.

This Christmas? There are more unexplained tears and more family-tension. More little problems and more big crises. There is more nagging and more needing-to-go-for-a-walk to get away from it all.

My blog has been quiet, waiting patiently for my return and I begin to think: who is the author - is it me? What is this blog? Who reads it?

The normal writer-doubts fill my head and tell me that I'm not good enough, that I don't write well enough. I hear the lie that I should just return to angst-ridden poetry instead of faith-filled personal writing because that, at least, got me ....

say it. Say it.

Attention. Accolades.

Shiny ornaments on my tree of success.

Oh, but I think about what I've learned in the past 2 years about God's upside-down Kingdom and I re-read what I just wrote.

The angst-ridden poetry may have gotten published widely and a few awards here and there...but the truly fulfilling writing did not come until I started this blog, until I started writing for my church newsletter, writing more intimately in my prayer journal and my regular journal, when I began my gratitude journal.

When I began the dialogue with God I became the writer I wanted to be.

Maybe not the writer that would get me accolades and awards. But the writer I know I was meant to be.

The angsty poetry had its place back then. But I am a new creation and I cannot nor should I discount the transformation within done by God.

So who is the author of this blog?

My dear friend, Michele, says on her blog that "Life's Author is God."

And I want that desperately. I want to surrender so much - all of myself - to God so that He is truly the Author of my everything.

I want God to be the author of this blog and I the mere vehicle.

I look at the metaphorical tree I have set up in front of me. I notice the ornaments are those of ingratitude, complaint, grief, sadness, depression.

I fight all those things on a daily basis, but this season has been especially hard. I read so much inspiration on my favorite blogs and I then play the comparison game. Why can't I do that? Write that? Feel that? Be that?

I don't want to feel this much grief for my mother, six years gone. Why am I feeling it so much more now?

I don't want to get this crabby on a daily morning basis.

I come home after my 40 minute drive and I am ready to go, having put the Armor of God from Ephesians 6 on, prayed in the car, told God I was ready to face the evening. And then to walk through the door to some crisis. It feels like it's every day. It just might be every day.

And in all of it - (I took a weekend break a few weeks back and learned this -) I know to give thanks.

Practice Eucharisteo. Practice giving thanks during the hard times.

So maybe this Christmas, for me, won't have the jolliness past ones have had. It isn't seeped in my mother's apple cider. It doesn't sing with Barbra Streisand's unique rendition of "Jingle Bells." We haven't done a family picture this year and I haven't sent out Christmas cards (how strange) because we've just been trying to survive.

Maybe this Christmas is more about what I learned that weekend I went away to be with God. Maybe it is about giving the hard thanks.

Maybe this Christmas I will peel the leafy evergreen branches back and reveal the bare tree underneath. It isn't about presents for me this year. It's about His Presence.

Not the decorated evergreen tree

but the bare tree that became a cross where Jesus gave His life for me

picture from http://www.dayspring.com/tree_to_cross_3_christmas_ornament/

and through tears (maybe explained, maybe unexplained) and heart-pains I give the hard thanks. I turn my head up and, amidst the frightening teenage choices and the whiny kindergartener and the starting-to-get-moody-tween and the marriage bumps and doctors' shrugs, I give thanks.

I give thanks to You, Lord. I give thanks because You deserve it and so much more. I give thanks because I am thankful that I know how to give thanks. For that is truly what saves me every time, in my deepest and loneliest and scariest times: counting Your gifts. I lived so much of my life feeling lost, Lord. This Christmas, I thank you for leading me, stone by stone, footprint by footprint, year by year, to You. I am choked up when I think about how You have saved me. How You sent Jesus down as a baby born in a dirty, filthy feed trough instead of a regal chamber.  I am amazed at how You, this baby grown into God-Man, have pursued me - me! - all of my life, and still do! How you ask me to sit at Your feet. This girl who looked in the mirror and hated herself. Who saw dirt and filth. You ask me to see what You see, Lord. You are the Savior I always knew I wanted but never could understand until now. And not only do I want you, but I need You, Lord. Jesus, I need You.

It feels odd to be writing so nakedly about myself now - here - at Christmastime when I feel I ought to be writing about Jesus and His birth and the Gospels. I wrote my first year of blogging here about Joseph being a great example of a stepparent and I shared different music videos contemplating the amazing situation Mary found herself in. And an interesting blog entry from December, 2011, about the yoke Jesus asks us to take on and about Christmas expectations.

Is this December, almost-Christmas, blog entry appropriate reading for this season?

I can't answer that right now. Somehow, though, I know God works through my heart and into my fingertips. Somehow, He can write me out of this confusion.

From a bare cross, God folds out my branches until, in Him, I am a beautiful tree, ever-green with glory as I shine with all He will do through me.

I hope to write again before Christmas. I can't promise, but I will try. Until then, may you keep your eyes on Jesus this season.

And does any peeling need to happen in your life? Certainly an interesting notion...

Now, if you'd like, sit back and listen to a beautiful song I just discovered:
"Becoming" by Christine Dente

Blessings be yours...

Join Me: On My Knees and Ears Open

Be aware of what you ask for.

Did you read my last blog entry? I laid myself bare on the operating table, ready and willing for God to mold and change me. A wise reader commented how similar it sounded to the threshing floor process: dividing the carnal nature away from spirit so that God can impart more of His Spirit into you. Anonymous gave that definition in the comment from the last entry and it made a lot of sense.

I'm going to write about being on that floor. And I'm going to ask you to join me.

What? You're going to ask me go through that immense pain and suffering, you ask?

No, I'm going to ask you to open your ears to God's voice.

I was at the edge today. I've been at my edge at various times this week. Chaos and stress continue to pile on as though it has no care for my comfort. Is she overburdened? Oh, no matter. She's hunched over in pain both physically and emotionally? Oh, that's okay. She can handle a bit more. 

No, worldly chaos and stress don't much care for whether you are ready or even willing to take it on.

Looking back now, I can tell chaos and stress to keep their threats because my God promises:

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

~ 1 Corinthians 10:13

However, from being at my edge today...and nearly succumbing to the lies of the enemy...and then seeking company and mentoring from a dear godly girlfriend...I know now that I need to do something before I can "stand up under it."

I need to get on my knees and I need to listen. 

I've spent too much time being my own little "god" and saying, "That's okay, God, I've got it."

I didn't consciously know that; it was all so subtle. I even told people.

"I don't have a savior complex, but I am trying to" x...y...z...

I told people I was not trying to save my loved ones...create peace in my home all by myself, using my own strength and resources...but I was. 

When we try to be God to other people, we miss God trying to be Himself to us.

And I'm not missing God anymore.

It might have taken my face to slam down on the floor - yet again - but I see now.

I bow to Him and I am on my knees and I am listening.

My friend gave me the idea today. She talked about her own stresses and troubles and I realized that while our situations were very different, what we had to do was the same. She worded it so wonderfully: she had to get on her knees and she was devoting this week to strictly listening for God's direction and provision.

And because I like projects...and goals...and God-homework...and I like being part of a group...

I told my friend that we ought to be accountable to each other and email each other how things are going throughout the week.

Then I thought, why not open this up to you?

Is there something you ought to be getting on your knees for? Have you not had your ears tuned to God lately? I know I haven't. I thought I did, but my eyes are open now. Yes, I was blind, but now I see. And I'll probably have to be blind again and be reminded again, but this is all a process, isn't it? And God realizes that. He is a God of so many chances. And if you are genuinely wanting to learn, God is so pleased.

So join me in this prayer, won't you?

Lord, I give myself to you. I bow low and open my ears to hear any and everything You might say to me. I recognize that You could speak through other people - my family or co-workers or even strangers. You might even speak through my worst enemy. No matter what form Your voice takes, I promise to listen closely. I can't do this on my own, Lord. I can't live this life without leaning completely on You and I apologize for trying to do it through my own efforts. I invite You into my life, Lord. I am stepping out of the way so You can move in my life. Thank You for loving me, Lord, even when I am stubborn and not listening. I am on my knees, Lord, and I am listening now. In Jesus' holy name, Amen. 

I invite you to join me in whatever way you wish. If you like having accountability and goals and being part of a group, post how you are doing in the comment box. If you'd like to keep it more private, I invite you to email me. I hope this can spark conversation and community.

Bless you.
Let this poem minister to you, given to me by my dear godly girlfriend whom I met with today:

Last night I took a journey
To a land across the seas.
I didn't go by ship or plane~
I traveled on my knees.

I saw so many people there
In bondage to their sin,
And Jesus told me I should go,
That there were souls to win.

But I said "Jesus, I can't go
To lands across the seas."
He answered quickly, "Yes, you can
By traveling on your knees."

He said "You pray, I'll meet the need.
You call, and I will hear.
It's up to you to be concerned
For lost souls far and near."

And so I did; knelt in prayer,
Gave up some hours of ease,
And with the Savior by my side,
I traveled on my knees.

As I prayed on, I saw souls saved
And twisted persons healed,
I saw God's workers strength renewed
While laboring in the field.

I said, "Yes Lord, I'll take the job.
Your heart I want to please.
I'll heed Your call and swiftly go
By traveling on my knees."

By Sandra Goodwin

Let this song, "Word of God Speak" by MercyMe be our theme song for this next week.

The Story Table: When All You Can Do is Lay There

[note: this took many days to write, so bare with me as it is now three or four days after this event]

I'm sprawled out on the operating table right now.

I have been split completely open by mess.

Things I have neglected kept building and building; my self-care had gone shamefully mismanaged and neglected. Things were not going well.

I am not saying things are perfect now, as I lie on the table. I mean, I see that God's hands are ready to mold me. Take me apart, squish me together again, reshape me, do all kinds of things.

I see that God is doing work in me.

And it's scary.

There have been nights - recent nights - where I have sobbed on the laundry room floor and cried out at God, not necessarily to Him - and said, "I don't want this call! I don't want to do what you want me to do."

I've gone to the brink of suffering and almost lost my footing and let myself be swallowed.

And today I was completely split open.

Thanks to a few trusted counselors and a friend, I'm gaining some perspective bit by bit. I'm realizing how I need to care for myself. I need to put my oxygen mask on before I can care for anybody.

And let me tell you - I've let my oxygen mask hang there like a tree ornament for years now.

Oh nevermind you, I'd say to myself. It's selfish to think of yourself.

(As God whispers His command: "love others as yourself")

Nevermind you, I've repeated for twenty-plus years. You aren't worth it.

But no more. I am not letting the enemy's lies dictate my worth. I will not rely on anyone but the Lord to tell me who I am.

So I have taken an R&R evening. I have had to force my mind not to dwell on whether she did all her homework or if that electric bill sitting on the counter is going to tip us into the red. I have had to walk away from a sink full of dishes.

This is not piously said.

I say this in shame because I had to force myself to say:

I am breaking. I need help. I need saving. If I don't change something now, I will be lost forever.

Lord, save me. Stop this. I am Yours.

So although the image of me on an operating table sounds completely helpless and vulnerable, I have complete confidence in the Almighty to make me into who He wants me to be.

Why am I sharing this with the blogosphere? And who, really, reads my blog, anyway?

Reading my dear internet-sister-in-Christ, Michele-Lyn's blog entry, "What is alifesurrendered.com?" I read many of my own mission statements.

I can't keep quiet. What happens inside this heart is important. Not because I am more important than anyone else, but because I know God is doing important things in me.

I am becoming stronger not by my own efforts, but because I lean on Christ to strengthen me (Philippians 4:13).

My life will be a testimony. It already is.

God will use my story to help others. He uses all of our stories if we let Him.

Our story is His story.

That is what I desire - for my story to reveal His story.

Great Physician, here I am on Your table. I want to be molded, changed. I know I am made new by my faith  (2 Corinthians 5:17) and I also know that I will continue to struggle (John 16:33) so I ask you that you humble me enough to listen to You always. I ask that you humble me so that I may carry out the immense calling that you have for me - to serve my family and model Your love. As much as my heart beats for Daniela in her village, for Compassion International, Food for the Hungry, WorldVision, Operation Baby Rescue, and so many wonderful organizations that help the needy...my mission field is my home. The needy children are my own stepchildren who God has placed in my life. And God placed me in their lives. It goes both ways.

And Lord, I'm sorry that I was getting so overwhelmed and upset and I wiggled and strained against Your guidance. Sometimes it is so hard, Lord. Sometimes, I admit, I don't want this call.

I admit it. I am human.

I heard on Susie Larson's "Live the Promise" show (yesterday? I forget) concerning God's calling, that, if your heart resists a bit when you hear God calling you to do something, then that usually means you know that is what you ought to do.

Why? Because it's probably hard. And we have a hard time with the hard stuff. 

Lord, I wrote a few days ago - bring it on.

And oh, you did.

You did so much that I found myself split open. I know you didn't cause this immense suffering these past weeks or months, but I know now that it needed to happen. I needed to be split open to see the light - Your light.

I needed to remember where I come from, Who I come from, where I must serve, and who I must serve.

I needed to remember who I am.

I am not anything or anyone defined by my childhood friends or current friends; I am not defined by roles placed on me by family. I am Yours, first.

I seek You, Lord. I seek to love others as I...

I am learning to love myself.

That is hard to type. I still hear echoes of ugly in my head.

But You ask me to love others as I love myself.

So...in order to love others perhaps I must dare to love myself.

Perhaps I must dare to let myself be split open and lay on that operating table and release my life into Your will.

And it says - your will is that I love myself.

And others.

And You.

Lord, help me love.

Help the ugly voices turn truthful.

Help the lies dissipate into steam on the mirror which quickly fades.

This I pray.

This I put out there in the blogosphere for Your glory and in hopes that someone might come along and read my story, Your story, and decide...

to love him/herself.

And to love others.

And to love You, Lord.

I chuckle as I look down at the necklace I wear every day. The abbreviated Bible verse has not felt personal until right now.

"Seek...to reflect Him"  2 Corinthians 

So Lord, I seek You and I lay upon the story table where You mold and move me. 

That's where the big stuff happens. That's where redemption is found. 

Praying for the Light Unto Their Path

A busy day of trying to get things done yet trying to relax and breathe as well.

But I pause in my busy relaxing to ask you to please pray for a dear sister in Christ who is journeying tomorrow to Guatemala on behalf of World Help and Operation Baby Rescue. You can read all about it here.

Her name is Michele-Lyn and she blogs at A Life Surrendered. which is my new favorite blog. I am constantly more and more astounded by this beautiful woman - her testimony is not for the faint of heart and she writes and lives in such grace and honesty that it makes me want to summon myself and my other friends and have us all unite in following God's ways more obediently.

Michele-Lyn will be blogging as part of the team going to Guatemala for World Help and I hope you follow her stories there.

She leaves tomorrow and, as you can read on her latest blog entry, she is feeling all the normal heart-flurries one feels before they embark on a life-altering journey. I remember feeling very similar things before my trip to Honduras and, to be honest, she is going far deeper into the trenches of poor and sickness and fear and death than I ever tip-toed in.

So I ask you to lift Michele-Lyn and all the people journeying to Guatemala this week up in prayer:

Dear Heavenly Father, so good and so loving,
We ask You to bless the efforts of the World Help volunteers, missionaries, and bloggers as they leave the safety of what they know to go and serve what we would call the very least of us: babies that need rescuing, adults and children that need comforting and the Good News that only You can bring.  I pray that You direct their footsteps according to Your Word (Ps 119:133) and uphold them in Your protection and righteousness. Though their hearts may break and grow weary from the sin and sadness in this world, make Your presence known to them so that they may feel hope and rely on Your provisions. You have us all in your mighty hand.  For You are a mighty savior and take delight in us with gladness. You calm our fears and rejoice over us with joyful songs (Zephaniah 3:17 NLT). We thank You and praise You for the work that will be done by these precious Christ-followers as You send them out. We pray this all in Jesus' holy and unfailing name. 
Amen.

Thank you, friends, for taking part in this prayer with me. My heart beats strongly for this mission. I'm not sure why. I don't question the passion I feel, though, I obey it. And though I want to drop everything I am doing here at home and join them, I know God wants me here, serving my family in this very specific way. So I must be content to pray fervently and unceasingly.

I encourage you to get to know Michele-Lyn over at her blog, A Life Surrendered as well as checking up on their experiences in Guatemala. 

Blessings as I leave you with this beautiful picture, taken from this website. 

Crossover

I think about my newly-turned 14-year-old stepdaughter and what it would be like for her be blinked off to Central America to switch lives with 13-year-old Daniela for a day. The thought stretches my mind like a rubber band - tight and resistant. But I go there anyway:

She was there in May, my 14 year old,
and mortified over her shoes.
Her $60.00 hiking boots she was too
embarrassed to wear in this rural village.
Not because of their extravagance
but because they "weren't cool."
She was worried about how she looked.

Did she look?
Around her? At the others?
Did she look at their feet?
Covered with worn shoes - maybe...
maybe barefoot.

Did she see their ground?
A kind of dirty my 14-year-old
saves for fast bike rides as a kid,
to see how much dirt she could spit up
from her tires.

These people live on dirt floors
and tires may be used for far more
than we understand.

Did she see the food they served us
and how they watched, eagerly,
for our approval?
They fixed us up extravagantly
yet, themselves, had nothing.

Once home, at our first family dinner.
I remember cooking up vegetables
on the stove

and it hit me
when the kids were fighting
at the table
over something trivial.

I cringed
not just at the bickering
but the Big Deal
we make out of so much.

When they
our "other family" out there
could make a big deal
out of so much
because
they have
so little.

If my 14-year-old switched lives
with our sponsor child
there'd be more than culture shock.
I pray there would be the kind of
recognition
only a God-sized miracle
can produce.

If I switched lives
with her mother,
sun-scorched face and wrinkles
explaining worry without words,
I wouldn't know the first thing
to do.

How do I ask for help?
How would my husband?
Fathers are to provide for the family
so what does Mr. F. think about
his daughter being sponsored
by us?

I had the chance to ask him in May.
And he smiled and nodded.
It was genuine.
His wife gushed sobs of gratitude
as he looked at the dirt ground
and she explained he was always working
and could not be in the family photos.
Forgive them? she asked.

Forgive them?
Forgive us, Mrs. F.
Forgive our apathy.
Forgive us assuming the "other guy"
will take care of it.
Forgive us for grazing over
our meatloaf and mashed potatoes
and not thanking, thanking,
thanking God ever-so-much
for each and every blessing
He bestows upon us

which includes your family, Daniela,
and your whole community. 

The other night
I told my two younger stepchildren,
8 and 5
that a family a world away
living on dirt floors
eating rice, beans, and tortillas every night
prayed for our family 
every morning.

Our family - I emphasized. 
Our family with the xBox
and the DVD player
and the fast-spinning washer and dryer.
Our family who is often too busy
to laugh and look in each other's eyes
because of poms and karate
and jobs us parents stress over.

That family prays for this family.

So that night
our family got together
and prayed for that family.

And prayers -
they are not so different
even if they come from different worlds

even if they come from different floors:
one dirt, one tile.

We are still two families
on our knees
praying for the other
to love God
with all our heart and all our soul
and all our mind.
******************************************

No, I cannot quite imagine switching places with a poverty-stricken family. I can't quite imagine not knowing if my children will have food for their next meal or if I was going to die of HIV or not and, if so, who would care for my children?

Fortunately, there are people and organizations stepping up and following God's call to the hands and feet of Christ. Organizations like Compassion International, the one I am focusing on this month, the one I so dearly love and feel strongly about. They don't just take money and toss it to the poor, hoping it will be used wisely. They invest. They teach. They help them with sustainability. 

And they invite you, this September, to take a bold step and sponsor a child and join the ranks of people sponsoring children.

It is a gift beyond description - to the child and to you, as well.

May God speak into your heart this day.

Tegucigalpa, capital of Honduras

Dreaming Your Everything

I opened my email earlier this week to find this week's September Compassion Blogger idea. Easy, I thought. Write a letter to God. About child sponsorship.

Sure, I can do that. I can thank God for my two sponsor girls, I can thank God for giving me the opportunity to have a relationships with them and, thus, with God, Himself. And so I sat down to write. And things just came out...well, plain.

And then, days later, I had a dream about Daniela.

I've never dreamed about Daniela before. She's the sponsor child I've had for 8 years and who I visited this past May.

The dream I had last night was more vivid and more real than what I actually remember from our visit. Isn't that weird? Yet, without that time of us meeting face-to-face, despite our shyness and nervousness, this dream couldn't have impacted me as much as it did.

All I remember from the dream was talking with her (we spoke the same language, which was strange) and looking into those deep, intensely dark eyes, her ebony hair flowing behind her, that gorgeous smile. And I remember the hug. I remember hugging her so tightly that when I awoke I literally ached for her.

Tonight, I sat outside on my back porch at twilight and cried.

I missed Daniela.

I ached for her.

And, so, I write my letter to God now. Here.

************************************************
Dear Heavenly Father,
I can see her so clearly in my head, Lord. Wearing that yellow shirt which starkly contrasted with her Latin American complexion and dark eyes and hair. She looked like a supermodel. In real life, Lord, not just in my dream. Daniela was more beautiful than I can ever imagine and I thank You so much for giving me the opportunity to meet her.

Not many sponsors can say they got to meet their sponsor child. I feel so very fortunate. And yet my heart aches because that dream...I felt so close to her in my dream...and yet, tonight, I cry because I feel so far away.

I miss her, Lord. I wish I could return to Central America and do all the things I would have done in hindsight. I wish I could  have been less shy, less nervous. Funny, in a recent letter, she wrote the same thing to me. She's 13, Lord, and she wrote to her 34-year-old "Madrina" (which means Godmother in Spanish) that she wished she was less self-conscious and could have been more outgoing during our visit.

A teenager wishes this, a teenager who, by hormonal nature, is usually shy and unsure. A teenager told this to a 34-year-old who, by most understanding, ought to be confident and well-spoken. Well, I was just as nervous and unsure as she was.

I couldn't stop smiling when I saw her in person, and I tried to strike up questions, but I just felt too nervous.

Not so in this dream. In my dream, we were laughing and sharing stories and loving each other.

And I awoke with such a clear picture of how I now want to visit her.

So on my back porch, Lord, I pray:

Thank you for the gift of Daniela and my other sponsor child in Indonesia, an 8 year old spirited girl who has the most intriguing eyes.

Thank you that my letters, prayers, and my monthly giving can impact a child so deeply.

And thank you, Lord, that these children's letters and prayers for me can impact me so deeply. I never expected it to be such a reciprocal road.

Thank you, Lord, for You - who connect these children and myself across miles and miles, across mountains and oceans, across political strife and poverty. You are the common link, Lord. You are our bridge. You are our common language.

I write that to Daniela a lot - I even told her when we all met in her church building - I said how amazed I was that God could connect one girl in Central America to one woman in the United States (I held one arm out to one side and the other arm out to the other side and then closed the gap to illustrate).

L-R, My stepdaughter, our translator, and myself (copyright Lisa Auter 2012)

What an amazing God we have!

For these children, Lord, I pray that You would give them Your Holy Spirit to guide them. Help their parents raise them in Your Ways. Guide these young girls to womanhood knowing their value in Your eyes. Teach them how good it is to be a Christ-follower.

Of course, I pray for their daily needs, Lord. That is a given. That is what people mostly think of when they think of monthly giving to a sponsor child: how the money will give them more food, better water, a chance at education, and better medical guidance. And that is all true - Compassion International does all that.

But Compassion does so much more.

Children don't just need food in their bellies; they need God's kiss on their foreheads. Mosquito netting is vital - as vital as knowing God is everything.

Lord, give them Your Everything.

This I pray in Your Precious and Life-Saving Name,

Amen.
**************************************************

Will you consider helping a child get their Everything?

The road is not one-way.

In return, you will get more than you ever could dream of.

I know; I dreamed it. And it was real.

You will get your Everything, too.

Pray about sponsoring a child. There are so many waiting, wondering, and dreaming their own dreams.

God bless you in your prayerful consideration.

village girls praying before the meal (copyright Lisa Auter 2012)