Receive and Pass On

When my youngest son Morgan turned ten he discovered his love for soccer. First it was new and he thought it was kind of fun to get in there and learn how to play. As he grew to understand it more he now is completely passionate about it and wants to play every chance he gets. 

The other day we were getting into the car to go kick the ball around at the local soccer field when he started telling us about playing soccer during recess. He told us about how another boy was really impressed by his moves and tricks. When Morgan showed him how he can do a cross behind kick, the boy was like, “Wow!” This kid was captivated by Morgan and I thought to myself, “Oh, no. Here we go. He is going to try to show off now and become an idol.”

But I continued to listen to him as he described what happened next. Rather than telling the other kid to watch another sweet move he can do or arrogantly telling him that he knows he is good, Morgan simply said to him, “Hey, I am happy to show you.”

Wow, I thought. He is ten and he gets it. And it really is that simple. He has received training, skills, gifts and talent and rather than use it for his own glory he is willing to pass it on. He isn't going to try to hoard it, or try to be the best or even show off. Instead he was willing to humbly say to the other boy, “I will teach you everything I know.”

He may learn more from teaching someone else than that person ever gets from him. And as Morgan begins to teach his friend how to do certain things Morgan may mess up himself and even miss the goal. He will fail and have to explain to the other boy that he missed the mark and get up and try again. 

The other boy will also fail as he begins learning these new skills. It isn't going to come to him the first day or on the first try, but it is about growing, learning and becoming more like a soccer player every day. This is discipleship. Receiving and passing on. Teaching someone else and pointing them to a common goal while you yourself are fully in the game and continuing to learn as well.

When I first receive something new and it is fun I want to keep it to myself. I want to just enjoy it! However, as it brings me joy I become passionate about it and want to share it. But sometimes there is a tendency for me to think I have earned something on my own and then I feel entitled to keep it. I hoard it and do not share it.

At times I feel threatened by someone else who has more than me or might take the glory from me and I stop passing on to protect myself. I mean I don’t want to end up on the side line while someone else gets to be in the game because I taught them everything I know and now they have become greater than me. Sometimes they will even take credit for something I have shown them how to do.

At that point have I not lost sight of the mission? Is it about receiving and passing on or about being the greatest? Is about giving away something I have been given to reach a common goal or about others following me? I mean do I want someone who begins looking like me or looking like a “soccer player”? If the goal is winning the game is it not best for me to stand back at times and simply coach and encourage those who are in the game? Even the ones who are now “better” than me.

Whether in our work place, our neighborhoods, churches or schools we can either believe that we have been given everything we have and have received it in order to pass it on. Or we can hoard what we have and believe that we somehow had something to do with how we got to a certain place ourselves.

I own nothing. The more I have grown in that knowledge, the more I want to give away everything I have every chance that I get. And the goal no longer is for me to get anything in return. I mean have I not received everything I have in order to pass it on anyways? I no longer need to get the glory or worry about someone taking credit for the things I have taught them because they weren't really my things to begin with. I have no need to feel threatened by others even those who know more than me. I simply get the joy of receiving what I have been given and inviting others to share in it by passing it on.

Under The Rug

A few weeks ago my ten year old son was asked to brainstorm ideas for a personal memoir at school. In doing so, all of his ideas came back to times he spent with his big brother. He decided to write about when we went to his big brother’s military graduation and he became overwhelmed with emotion. He misses his big brother. He has so many sweet memories with him and that is a beautiful thing. But sometimes there is pain in the mist of something beautiful and there is weeping over the loss of it. So how do we respond? My concern is, often we respond by avoiding it. His teacher, though I know she meant well, took him into the hallway and suggested that maybe he write about something else…something less painful.

Have you ever been responded to in that way? I know I have many times in my life. I needed to talk to someone about something utterly painful or I was dealing with a loss in my life and it was extremely raw. Every time it was brought up I began to weep; sometimes even wail or get angry. And what is worse than being vulnerable and crying in front of someone is when they lift up the rug. Instead of being available to you, a shoulder to cry on, a leg to stand on, or an ear to listen (really listen), they lift up the rug and sweep you under it.

I mean do we really think that by not talking about pain it will somehow just miraculously go away? Do we think that if we throw someone under the rug that it will somehow turn into a magic carpet that sweeps them away to the land of make believe where everyone is smiling and happily singing, “It’s A Small World”?

I wonder what we as the church would be like if we really meant it when we said, “Come as you are.” If we really meant it when we said, “You need to be ‘in community’ with one another.”  If, when we invite someone to come out of hiding, we actually listen to them and point them to Jesus instead of judging them, trying to fix them, or trying to get them to see how we see. If we would offer to pray with them instead of putting flowery words over their pain saying, “It’s all going to work out,” while quickly moving onto another less upsetting topic.

My favorite has to be when people try to guess why God is doing something in my life. People have caused me more pain from trying to do that because they often indirectly accuse me, as if my sin is the reason why I am going through a difficult time. Sometimes that could be. But sometimes innocent people are hurt because someone else isn’t following God’s plan. Is that really that hard for us to understand? Have we not all felt the weight of our own sin as well as the weight of someone else’s sin on us?

What has happened to you when you have come out of hiding before or shared from your heart? I know I have been attacked for feeling a certain way and expressing it. What has happened to you when you have cried and expressed deep pain about something? Have you ever experienced just good old-fashioned avoidance? “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s pretend it didn’t even happen. Let’s pretend you are not struggling in that area because it is just too messy. Ain’t nobody got time for that!”

We need to lay down the rug and perhaps nail it to the floor. There is no light under there. We need each other to lift our eyes and allow God to expose what He needs to expose. That is where healing can begin; when we come out of hiding and stop pretending. His holiness can be trusted to reveal all that is needed. Let us be the church that invites others to seek His face with us. Let’s be the church that isn’t shocked when people sin or are sinned against and love one another as Christ has loved us. Pain can be beautiful. Let us be willing to die to ourselves and allow the rug to get messy so others can have life.

Labels

As parents we want to see our children do well and feel good. When my oldest was little I hated to see him cry it tore at my mommy heart strings to watch his lip quiver and tears stream down his cheeks. As he got older he learned how to manipulate me with his emotions and he started to throw fits. He would kick and scream and try to get his way and somewhere along the line I am sure I labeled him strong-willed. I know my own mom was glad to see me get my due as I was also a very difficult young girl.

 

Then my second child was born. When he wanted his way he just did what he wanted and disregarded what he was being told as if he couldn’t hear us. The oldest was a fit thrower, and the younger was an ignorer. They were like night and day. The oldest was athletic and wanted to fit in and the second was into music and walking to the beat of his own drum. The oldest became a baseball player and was defined by it. The second was a guitar player and was defined by that. People often asked us why our second son didn’t play baseball like his brother as if it was what all boys should do. But we allowed them each to explore their bend and discover the way God had uniquely designed them to be. They had both found what they were good at and there is nothing wrong with that, right?

 

But what happens to us if we are defined by what we do? What happens to us if we are defined by our behaviors? It becomes our identity. So my oldest son’s identity was a strong-willed baseball player and my second son’s identity was a laid–back guitar player who likes to be an individual. Even I grew up knowing that I was a defiant, ornery little stinker who gave looks that could kill and never cried at movies. Maybe growing up someone called you difficult or labeled you a bully or announced, “Here comes trouble” every time you entered the room. Or perhaps you were labeled by “good” behaviors like nice or polite.

 

Somewhere along the way your teachers, coaches, parents or friends have labeled you or boxed you in because you were a certain way or had or didn’t have a certain skill. It seems we have all been given labels at some point in our lives and if you are like me you felt the need to live up to them. They define who you are and they affect how you see yourself. You may even feel the need to be that person on the outside but on the inside that is not who you really are. You end up feeling trapped by these labels and they become your identity. And what happens if you stop being a baseball player, or a bully or “nice”?  You have an identity crisis, right? You no longer know who you are.

 

But what would happen if we defined our children by their true identity? What would happen if from day one we pointed them to their maker and told them how much they are loved despite their behavior? That they are wonderfully made. That they were chosen and dearly loved before the creation of the world. That they are the workmanship of the creator of the whole universe. That they are a holy temple and a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit.  That they are a child of God and there is no greater identity than that. That they are a sheep of His pasture and that they have everything they need in Him. They need to look no further. They need not put their hope in anything else. They have nothing and are nothing apart from Him. The very breath in their lungs comes from the one who laid down His life so that they could have a new life free from these labels.

 

The enemy is always going to try to rob us of our true identity and get us to believe God is holding out on us and our children are not immune to this. He will use labels and try to deceive us all. He will try to get us to see ourselves better or worse than we ought to. I want my children to know that these are lies. That it’s a trap and that nothing is greater than the identity that is available to them in Christ. Sin will look less appealing when we define ourselves by who we are in Him. Image-bearers. Ministers of reconciliation. Blameless. Set Free.

 

As parents we want to see our children do well and feel good. Our children will misbehave and they will believe lies. They will throw fits and embarrass us and they will hit the winning homerun and make us proud. But that is not who they are. So, remind them of the truth every day so they can choose to believe in life over lies, freedom over sin and their true identity over labels. Help your children to see who they are by who God is, not by what they do.

 

 

Chains

Before I knew who Jesus was I lived my life for myself. I didn’t understand that I had a Creator. I didn’t understand that I had a Savior and a Redeemer. I thought life was mine to live and boy was I living it. My lifestyle led to many chains. I was trapped and enslaved by what I later knew as sin. It led me to feeling lonely, shameful, anxious, and just plain out of control at times.

 

As I stepped into a new life I was taught that these chains that enslaved me no longer had a hold on me. Though there were plenty of days those first several years where it felt like they did, I started believing in how God saw me as His much loved child. I was His beautiful daughter worth saving and breathing new life into.  I started to allow Him to take off the chains that He had broken long before I was ready to let them go. Eventually I was no longer haunted by my past regrets and sins because I allowed Him to take them from me completely. But as I stood worshipping God now, some 25 years later, I realized I must really love chains.

 

Break every chain was playing over and over in my mind; it was pouring out of my mouth and stirring something deep in my heart. For years I have loved singing that refrain because in those moments I would celebrate all that I know He is because of all that He has done in my life. So why do I insist on wearing chains like they are accessory to who I am? They are not comfortable. They are ugly. They dig in and cause pain in my life. They make me feel like a wild animal that is desperate to break free from a cage at the zoo. But there I was in shackles again.

 

These chains did not look like my old ones, but I had managed to find new ones. Instead of being a slave to myself I was now a slave to others. I had allowed the people in my life to put chains back on me. People that don’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated. People who expect me to carry their weight as well as my own. People who think they are better than me, who slander me, who disrespect me and play games with me. People who compete with me and try to pass their insecurities off onto me. I had strapped a brand new shiny set of chains back on myself. I was now enslaved again.

 

These new chains caused me to try and defend myself when I already have a Defender. These new chains caused me to become frustrated with others and blame them for making me carry their weight. These new chains wanted me to shout to others, “You are not better than me. I am not who you say I am. Do you not know who I am? I am an important person. I am a person and I have feelings that can be trampled on and hurt.”

 

Why do I want these chains when I can have a life free of slavery? Why would I go back to being beaten and abused, taken advantage of and tricked, mocked and spit on? Why would I go back to being a slave to someone else or even myself again? Why would I put on new chains that are now engraved with competing with my brothers and sisters or judging others who live and struggle differently than me? Sometimes even judging those who struggle the same as me. At the end of it all it comes back to my identity. Who defines it?

 

Every day is a battle. When man chose to disobey God, man also chose to believe a lie. That God wasn’t enough and that fulfillment could be found elsewhere. But it was a trap. It still is. I have to choose to believe that by God’s grace I am no longer a slave but heir. When I allow my Creator the one who knows every detail of my life to define me, I live in freedom. The chains of self-righteousness, pride, deceit, envy, anxiousness, slander they are all exchanged for freedom in Him and replaced with His righteousness, humility, holiness, kindness, love and peace. I must choose to believe the truth. That fulfillment, freedom and peace only come from the one who created me, rescued me and redeemed me. He broke every chain to reconcile me to Himself so I can be free to live an intimate relationship with Him and man.

 

I must stop exchanging my old chains for new ones. My brothers and sisters are not my enemy. They struggle, too. They fail to see their true identity every day, too. I must look to my Creator for my identity. He took the crown of thorns to give me a royal crown. He took the shackles off me feet so I could be set free. I am humbled as I remember by grace I am saved and freed. Not just for me, but also to pour out grace on my brothers and sisters, whether they are in Christ yet or not. When I stop competing and defending and exchange all of my chains for His freedom I just might lead someone else to find freedom as well.

 

 

 

“God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them.” Gen 1:27

 

“You have searched me and known me! For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Ps 139

 

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons (and daughters) of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons (and daughters), by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”  Rom. 8:14-15

 

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” 1 Peter 2:9

 

“To put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” Eph. 4:22-24

One Foot In, One Foot Out

This one is going to hurt a little. It may even hurt a lot. I know as I have been through various pains in my life, and even disappointment, that each time it can leave a mark. A mark that doesn’t really seem to ever go away. It may hurt less, it may heal even to where no one else can tell it is there, but it can still linger and affect how I live. It is kind of like a broken finger that hurts really badly at first but as it heals it hurts less and less. Eventually, no one else can tell that it is still sore. But it is sometimes, especially if it gets hit it in the same place. And one thing can be very true of that finger; I may never use it again 100 percent.

 

What a tragedy. I believe that can be the enemy’s strongest weapon; not to use just our pains, hurts, disappointments and failures against us, but to actually keep us from not trusting 100 percent. To get us to hold on and keep 10 percent, 20 percent or sometimes even 90 percent on reserve to protect ourselves from being hurt again. We don’t give ourselves fully to our new circumstances. We can even end up moving away and bringing it all with us.

 

I have lived a few years of my life with the one foot in one foot out mentality and it is not a place of peace. It is a place of worry, a place of uncertainty, place of wrestling, and a place of loneliness. You constantly think, “When this doesn’t work out I can always go back over here or move over there.” Back and forth you go from one foot to the other until you are exhausted. Until all you want is just a place to be swept off your feet from feeling the pain and laid down to rest in the comfort of what you knew before the pain.

 

We become distant from people feeling like no one really cares or understands because they cannot see the scars that were left. Some expect you to move on before you are ready. Others get busy with their own lives and the world just seems to be going on around you; like somehow you are not even connected to it in anyway, except to feel lonely. You find yourself wishing for at least one person to come and shine a light into your darkened places. You pray that God would have someone see the pain that goes unnoticed and go one step further and just show up. Someone to care enough to come after you and pursue you so you can trust again. They are the person that opens your hand to letting go of the percent you still hold onto that prevents you from giving 100 percent. They care for you through the pain and the fears and all of the tears that are shed through the releasing of this grip.

 

I know that is what God does for us and I believe it is what He calls us to do for others. The problem is the more a person is hurt the greater the distance at times and the stronger the pursuit often needs to be. We may have to show up at their work or call them seventy times before they start to believe you genuinely care about them. That you love them and want to have a real relationship with them.

 

Sometimes they just need to be reminded that God loves them. They need to be reminded that He took that risk and endured that pain for us over and over. He knows what it is like to be hurt. Rejected. Beaten. Mocked. Misunderstood. But He suffered long. He didn’t give up. He gave me one hundred percent of Himself to give me life and display His love for me. How far was He willing to go? How many risks was He willing to take? How many times would He forgive and still not hold back because of His unrelenting love.

 

I want to love like that. I want to forgive like that. I want to die to myself to give one hundred percent even if I am hurt again. Rejected. Beaten. Mocked. I want to suffer long with people because they are worth it. God thinks so. I want to risk it all again and again because I have counted the cost and I know He is worth it.

 

I am so thankful that God speaks through His sons and daughters so we can encourage one another to lay it all down again and again. I don’t know where some of you are today. Whether you are one that has been hurt and are holding back or you are one that needs to be the gentle voice into someone’s life because they are hurting. But take the risk. Be free from whatever hinders you. There is a cost, but it is not greater than the cost of holding on.

 

A New Way To Dream

Today marked an unbelievable day in my life. When my husband and I married almost twenty years ago we were half way through our first four years of college and we believed in the American dream. We had planned to finish school in two more years; both land professional jobs, buy a house and then have two children, possibly a third after the first two were a little older. It didn’t take us long to realize we had bought into a lie.

 

Two months into our marriage we found out we were going to have our first child. We were so thrilled and when we met him in our 11^th month of marriage God began to show us through our son’s tiny hands and feet what God’s dream was for us. People began to doubt I would finish school, but of course I was determined to continue and earn my bachelor’s degree despite any naysayers.

 

So there we were a family, both of us in school fulltime, my husband having to work waiting tables and me staying home to care for our new baby. We carefully studied the course catalog each quarter to set up our schedules opposite of each other and often had to hand our son off to each other between our classes. We made it work and continued through sleepless nights with a newborn and papers to write. The next year I did graduate and receive my diploma. My husband’s degree took a bit more time so he was still in school and I was trying to find that professional job the financial aid office told me I would land. My loans quickly became due and I still did not have any offers for jobs in my field, let alone one that would pay enough to put our much loved son in daycare. And then we got pregnant with baby number two.

 

After he was born I stayed home with our two boys and my husband worked and continued in school committed to finishing his degree so at least he could provide for our family with his “professional” income. With student loan money helping us through we managed to make it work and then a few months later I started getting really sick. Our oldest was not quite three and our baby was 6 months old. I had no insurance due to my unemployment, but had to go to the doctor. The doctor quickly informed me why I was feeling so ill. I was pregnant with number three. After asking the doctor to repeat that several times, I went home in our small car, to our small two bedroom apartment and told my husband that we were going to have another child.

 

Three kids in three and a half years. Now people were really talking. They would ask us if we knew how this happens. They couldn’t believe that we would have another baby at a time like this. They would talk about our birth control methods and let us know their opinion on whether this baby was God’s will or our stupidity. My husband began working at his internship while still in school and working as a server at night. After working two jobs while in school, having three children in a two bedroom apartment, sharing one small car and accruing more student loans he finally graduated five years into our marriage! This was our American dream and it had only just begun.

 

My husband began his search for his professional job and our loans became due. Making only $18,000 that year with a family of five and no longer receiving financial aid we put our loans on forbearance not sure what else to do. After a year he found a part-time job in his profession and we moved across the state for an $11,000 a year job. I suppose normal people don’t do that but God had provided so much and we knew He was in this all the way. We watched doors being opened in front of us and closed behind us in amazing ways. We had no control over it and it was completely scary and beautiful all and the same time. We ended up moving again the next year and God provided again. We had promises made to us by employers that we not kept. We had zero pennies to our name many of days. But God would show up. In the middle of all the chaos He was faithful. There were many times that I wished a generous fountain of money would just open up and rain out of the sky so we could have a nice home with two cars, a full time job with a professional salary and our student loan debt paid in full. But, we were not living the American Dream. We were living God’s dream for us which is way more beautiful.

 

Twenty-two years ago we enter college at eighteen years old thinking nothing could stop us from living the life we always wanted and believing a lie. We were told we would have great jobs when we finished college and taking out student loans wasn’t really a big deal because we could easily pay them back when we were done with school. None of that happened like that for us. God had a much greater plan to show us Himself. We learned to never give up because He never gave up on us. When other people had their say He remained faithfully by our side. We learned to be generous because He has given us everything we have without question. We learned that He is good and only good even when it seemed like there was no good to be found. He has given us an overwhelming abundance of joy through trusting in Him and not the false securities of this world.

 

Today marks a day that my husband and I will always remember. We thought today would never come. After having four beautiful children and moving our family four times, each with its own set of challenges, in an attempt to find a way to this day, it is finally here. We are overwhelmed with God’s goodness, faithfulness and generosity. Because today is the day the Lord has made a way for us to pay off our student loans. Our student loan debt is paid in full and I am so grateful for a God that showed us a new way to dream.

 

A Parent's Love Cannot Be Explained

Some things cannot be explained. Like how a mother feels about her children or the lengths she would go just to be near them. To embrace them. To care for them. She would drive to the ends of the earth just to lay her eyes upon theirs; to know they are alright. She would spend every penny she had to hug them one more time; to feel a part of them deep within her very soul.

Father, how did you do it? How did you let him go? How did you endure the pain and the hole in your heart while he was apart from you? Was it for me that you chose to suffer the separation from your child? You have given me a chance to have life with you. To be embraced by you. To know you. I cannot believe how I have made this into a vacation. I cannot believe how selfish I have been. I cannot believe that I could not see how deep your love is for me. That it would compel you to lose your child on the account of adopting one that would spit on him and pervert his name.

You would go that far and I just sit back and complain about the cost of following you there. I grumble about how I must wait on you, often without the luxuries I would like to have. I make it seem like I am the one who has to sacrifice and that you are lucky to have me even show up. I treat it like it is a vacation and that I am here for myself. Is it because I believe that what I am going to get out of it is paradise? But God forbid if it rains at all. Have I somehow reduced a life spent with you and made it about the conditions, the event and the experience? Do I just wonder when I will get to bask in the sun, go shopping about the town or enjoy an ice tea from my room with a view?

But you, Father, you made it about a relationship. You have taken me by the hand and taught me that the treasure isn’t found in where I go or what I might see along the way. The treasure is found in simply being reconciled with the one who gave me life. Like a mother who longs to just simply be in the presence of her children no matter the cost. Could it be that the real treasure to be found is in the costly but warm embrace of a kind and loving parent? One that would go to the ends of the earth to turn me around to lay His eyes upon mine. Could it be found in the very one willing to pay it all just to be with me?

Some things cannot be explained. Like how a mother feels about her children or the lengths she would go just to be near them. Father, thank you for going these lengths for me.

Calling Home

As my family sat in church a few Sundays ago, my husband’s phone lit up with an incoming call. I looked down and saw “Kyle” on the face of his phone and then looked at my husband. With overwhelming joy in my heart I whispered, “Go and answer it!”

We wait for that call every week now. Kyle is our first born son who left in November to join the military. He is still in training and at most he gets to call home now once a week. We long to hear his voice and to hear how he is doing. All week he is told when to get up, where to stand, how to stand, when to move and how to move, and then for a few hours once a week he gets a pass. On pass he is free to do whatever he wants with this time. Okay, it’s the military so it’s not whatever he wants but still he has a little freedom. He can go hang out with the other soldiers, go to the store or use his phone. This time it hit me that he is free to choose how he spends that time. He could spend it however he wants and he chooses to call home and talk to us. Wow.

As I thought about it, I found myself overwhelmed by God and His love for me . As people we all sin. And at some point in our lives we have been slaves to that sin. We end up feeling like my son who is being controlled by the US Army. We have no freedom. We are imprisoned and sin is our master drill sergeant. But Jesus came to set us free from that bondage and when we put our faith, hope and whole lives into His hands he gives us freedom. A non-controlling freedom to do whatever we want. But what do we do? Do we go on sinning just like before because we are forgiven and God will and can forgive us again? Do we put filthy rags back on and declare we are temples? Or do we call home and talk to our Father and hear His voice say our name? Do we use our freedom to rest in Him? To hear Him say, “I love you. I am proud of you, son, because you are beautifully and wonderfully made.”

We have the freedom to call home and talk to our Father. Not just on a pass that will end after a few hours, like my son when he calls us, but an endless freedom to be at home resting in Him for an eternity. I don’t know about you, but for me I don’t want go back to how I was before I had His freedom. His way brings life and joy, meaning, and purpose, and fills me in ways sin never could. His freedom pours out kindness, love and compassion. He is present in the mist of my suffering and the source of all of my joy. Whether I have a four hour pass or the rest of my life to give, I want to give it all to Him. I can only picture the look on our Father’s face when He sees us calling His name. Overwhelming.

Calling Home

As my family sat in church a few Sundays ago, my husband’s phone lit up with an incoming call. I looked down and saw “Kyle” on the face of his phone and then looked at my husband. With overwhelming joy in my heart I whispered, “Go and answer it!”

We wait for that call every week now. Kyle is our first born son who left in November to join the military. He is still in training and at most he gets to call home now once a week. We long to hear his voice and to hear how he is doing. All week he is told when to get up, where to stand, how to stand, when to move and how to move, and then for a few hours once a week he gets a pass. On pass he is free to do whatever he wants with this time. Okay, it’s the military so it’s not whatever he wants but still he has freedom. He can go hang out with the other soldiers, go to the store or use his phone. Today it hit me that he is free to do whatever he would like. He could do whatever he wants and he chooses to call home and talk to us. Wow.

I found myself overwhelmed by God and His love for me as I thought about it. As people we all sin. And at some point in our lives we have been slaves to that sin. We end up feeling like my son who is being controlled by the US Army. We have no freedom. We are imprisoned and sin is our master drill sergeant. But Jesus came to set us free from that bondage and when we put our faith, hope and whole lives into His hands he gives us freedom. A non-controlling freedom to do whatever we want. But what do we do? Do we go on sinning just like before because we are forgiven and God will and can forgive us again? Do we put filthy rags back on and declare we are temples? Or do we call home and talk to our Father and hear His voice say our name? Do we use our freedom to rest in Him? To hear Him say, “I love you. I am proud of you, son, because you are beautifully and wonderfully made.”

We have the freedom to call home and talk to our Father. Not just on a pass that will end after a few hours, like my son when he calls us, but an endless freedom to be at home resting in Him for an eternity. I don’t know about you but for me I don’t want go back to how I was before I had His freedom. His way brings life and joy, meaning and purpose, and fills me in ways sin never could. His freedom pours out kindness, love and compassion. He is present in the mist of my suffering and the source of all of my joy. Whether I have a four hour pass or the rest of my life to give I want to give it all to Him. I can only picture the look on my Father’s face when He sees us calling His name. Overwhelming.

 

 

"That's not nice."

One day my daughter came home from a middle school Christian youth gathering. I asked her how it went and she began to describe something all too familiar. My daughter explained that during discussion groups one of the young girls began talking about how she really cannot stand these two girls at school. The girls were mean to her and she really hated them for it.

This probably happens in every social circle in middle school. This is not new and certainly everyone alive has faced feeling hatred for someone who is mean to them. So I asked my daughter, “So what did the leader say to her?” My daughter told me that the leader told the young girl, “That’s not nice.”

Ugh.

I often found this difficult with my own children; to tell them that their behavior wasn’t right without looking into their hearts. To correct them by telling them, “That’s not nice.” However, to truly understand their behavior I must start with looking into their hearts and helping them see their true identity. They are children of God defined by the finished work of Jesus and who they are in Christ begins shaping what they do.

I grieved for this young girl who was opening up about her life. She chose to come into her community group that night and confess the struggling in her heart. Maybe she said it nasty and maybe she wasn’t being “nice”, but I wondered what the church would be like if we responded differently to honesty. I wondered how this young girl viewed her identity in Christ, and I wondered what would happen if she were to respond to these mean girls out of that identity.

Let us believe for a moment that this young girl knew that it was “not nice” to hate people and that is why she opened up. Let us just believe that she wanted to change and that telling someone of her struggle would free her and would allow her to love these “mean” girls. That her small group would understand her struggle. That this gathering would be a safe place to not pretend to be “nice” but to admit when sin was invading her heart. That her group would sharpen and encourage her to live in His righteousness and not her own. In His strength and not her own. That they would point her in the direction of her true identity when the world was trying to tell her lies about it.

It isn’t about being nice or not being nice. It is about giving ourselves to the only one that resisted retaliation of people who were mean. The only one who could overcome temptation and the only one who can heal us from the guilt and the shame that causes us to hide and pretend. Let’s believe for a moment that what this young girl was doing was being honest and that what she didn’t need was a reminder that she is “not nice” but a reminder that Jesus’ love for her is overwhelming. That He paid it all and now she is free to love even those who are mean because they are not her identity. Jesus is.

DieToServe: Reconcile

DieToServe: Reconcile: There they were staring at me like a beacon in the face. I have read these words before. I have even quoted them. But there they were in Romans 5...

Reconcile

There they were staring at me like a beacon in my face. I have read these words before. I have even quoted them. But there they were in Romans 5, “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for the righteous person-though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die- but God shows his love for us that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” I have believed these words for myself. They remind me how much God loves me and how great His love is for all of His people. He died. And not just for me. But He didn’t just die. He conquered death so that I could be reconciled to Him and to give me life.

And yet who am I willing to go to? Who am I willing to die for? Who am I willing to give life to? Would I be willing to sacrifice in order to reconcile with them? Would I be willing to die to myself to serve them? What can wash away my sin? “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” What can wash away their sin? “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” Do I believe that? If I did would I worry about my pride? Would I go to even my enemies like Christ did and die for them so they may have life. His sacrificial love not only redeems my life, it reconciles me to Him. So why would I be at odds with anyone? Why wouldn’t I choose reconciliation?

Why would I choose to sit back thinking my enemy wronged me so they should come to me? They should be the one to say they are sorry. They should humble themselves in front of me because they hurt me. They sinned against me. I even want other people to know that they were unkind to me. That they are not as nice as others might think they are. I want everyone to know that, what? That they are sinners? Ha! So am I. Is it not the blood and nothing but the blood? Did it not cover all sin but only those I commit against others? While I was still a sinner Christ died for me. He came to me. He rescued me, from my guilt and shame. From my darkness and despair. He brought me from death to life.

Christ didn’t wait for the wrong to come to Him. He didn’t ask the sinner to clean up his mess before He forgave him. He broke in and was willing to die in our place displaying the ultimate sacrifice. A fragrant love offering poured out for all in order to give life and to reconcile us back to the unity we once had in Him.

So, who am I willing to go to? Who am I willing to die for? Who am I willing to give life to? Would I be willing to sacrifice in order to reconcile with them? Would I be willing to die to myself to serve them? What can wash away my sin? “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” What can wash away my brother or sister’s sin? “Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” So let me humbly go before my brother and let me humbly go before my sister and ask them to forgive me for the anger I have felt towards them. For we are all sinners who are only justified by the blood of Jesus Christ.

The Defender

The other day I was driving in the car with my kids and I was pondering this post. Wondering if I would ever have the clarity to write it and then, in one of those teachable moments I often have with my kids, it happened. God taught me through my own spoken words.

There we were driving along and one of the kids was being unkind to another. Crazy, I know, but there it was. So, I stepped in and pointed out the obvious and explained that he owed his brother an apology for his unkind actions. He said he was sorry but then started listing his brother’s offenses. I heard them all, but didn’t acknowledge any of the statements that were attempting to point the finger away from him and onto his brother. And then the brother who was being accused starts in on his own unkindness. I said, “That’s enough” only to be followed by, “But he is saying a bunch of things I was obviously joking about.” To which I replied, “Am I responding to his accusing words towards you?”

Hmm…And there it was. I was the parent capable of discerning the truth and recognizing who was right and wrong. That is why I was not giving much thought to the side tracking arguments of the accuser. But how often do I want to defend myself even with a perfect Father? How often do I want to make sure that the world knows that I am not the one who is wrong? How often do I jump to justify myself even in situations where I know I cannot win? Where I am fighting a losing battle?

This is one of the biggest things I learned this past year. I don’t need to defend myself. I don’t need to seek to justify myself and I don’t need anyone to know that I wasn’t the one who messed up even when I didn’t. I don’t need to have anyone say, “You know what? You’re right.” I don’t have to justify myself to save face because I have already been justified. I have a defender and I cannot come close to defending myself to the degree He has defended me.

The crazy thing is that I often forget this. When decisions are made around me, even ones that are not personally affecting me, but ones that affect people or things I care about I get into my best defender stance and my passion overwhelms me. I feel I need to speak out against the injustice around me, to right the wrongs and ultimately there I stand unguarded and out in the open. Somehow I’ve switched places and realize I am defending my Defender.  I am now venerable and have placed myself in a position that allows people to attack from all sides, rather than standing in my rightful place, allowing my Defender to go before me and behind me.

All of this, of course, could be justified by the fact that I was defending things that are important to Him. I was defending things He had died for. And I was defending things that He cares about more than I do. I needed these accusers to see what they were doing, not to me, but to my Defender and His name. But when did my Defender ever give these accusers words any thought? When did He ever ask me to defend Him?

He knows who He is and whose He is. He knows perfect right from perfect wrong. He is truth. He is Just. So why did I think He needed a defender.  I guess I just didn’t realize what I was doing. But, I was wasting energy on defending a God that is the defender of all. At the cross Jesus didn’t even defend Himself. He had every right to, but He knew He was innocent and He was about to die for the guilty. He gave His life for all, even the people that I try to defend my God against. He doesn’t need me to defend Him. He invites me to rest in Him and quit blocking His way with my measly five foot defensive stance. I have a responsibility but it is to follow my defender and invite others to know Him and take refuge under His wing while He defends us from the accusers. We are the ones in need of Him. We need the defender, not the other way around.

“God my strength, I am looking to you, because God is my defender. My God loves me, and he goes in front of me. He will help me defeat my enemies.” Psalm 59:9-10  

The Cost is Worth 100 Percent

This one is going to hurt a little. It may even hurt a lot. I know as I have been through various pains in my life, and even disappointment, that each time it can leave a mark. A mark that doesn’t really seem to ever go away. It may hurt less, it may heal even to where no one else can tell it is there, but it can still linger and affect how I live. It is kind of like a broken finger that hurts really badly at first but as it heals it hurts less and less. Eventually, no one else can tell that it is still sore. But it is sometimes, especially if it gets hit it in the same place. And one thing can be very true of that finger; I may never use it again 100 percent.

 

What a tragedy. I believe that can be the enemy’s strongest weapon; not to use just our pains, hurts, disappointments and failures against us, but to actually keep us from not trusting 100 percent. To get us to hold on and keep 10 percent, 20 percent or sometimes even 90 percent on reserve to protect ourselves from being hurt again. We don’t give ourselves fully to our new circumstances. We can even end up moving away and bringing it all with us.

 

I have lived a few years of my life with the one foot in one foot out mentality and it is not a place of peace. It is a place of worry, a place of uncertainty, place of wrestling, and a place of loneliness. You constantly think, “When this doesn’t work out I can always go back over here or move over there.” Back and forth you go from one foot to the other until you are exhausted. Until all you want is just a place to be swept off your feet from feeling the pain and laid down to rest in the comfort of what you knew before the pain.

 

We become distant from people feeling like no one really cares or understands because they cannot see the scars that were left. Some expect you to move on before you are ready. Others get busy with their own lives and the world just seems to be going on around you; like somehow you are not even connected to it in anyway, except to feel lonely. You find yourself wishing for at least one person to come and shine a light into your darkened places. You pray that God would have someone see the pain that goes unnoticed and go one step further and just show up. Someone to care enough to come after you and pursue you so you can trust again. They are the person that opens your hand to letting go of the percent you still hold onto that prevents you from giving 100 percent. They care for you through the pain and the fears and all of the tears that are shed through the releasing of this grip.

 

I know that is what God does for us and I believe it is what He calls us to do for others. The problem is the more a person is hurt the greater the distance at times and the stronger the pursuit often needs to be. We may have to show up at their work or call them seventy times before they start to believe you genuinely care about them. That you love them and want to have a real relationship with them.

 

Sometimes they just need to be reminded that God loves them. They need to be reminded that He took that risk and endured that pain for us over and over. He knows what it is like to be hurt. Rejected. Beaten. Mocked. Misunderstood. But He suffered long. He didn’t give up. He gave me one hundred percent of Himself to give me life and display His love for me. How far was He willing to go? How many risks was He willing to take? How many times would He forgive and still not hold back because of His unrelenting love.

 

I want to love like that. I want to forgive like that. I want to die to myself to give one hundred percent even if I am hurt again. Rejected. Beaten. Mocked. I want to suffer long with people because they are worth it. God thinks so. I want to risk it all again and again because I have counted the cost and I know He is worth it.

 

I am so thankful that God speaks through His sons and daughters so we can encourage one another to lay it all down again and again. I don’t know where some of you are today. Whether you are one that has been hurt and are holding back or you are one that needs to be the gentle voice into someone’s life because they are hurting. But take the risk. Be free from whatever hinders you. There is a cost, but it is not greater than the cost of holding on.