When I was sixteen years old, I was preparing to attend my junior
prom with my boyfriend (who is now my husband). I had tried on several
dresses and had found one that I thought might be “the” dress. I begged
my parents to come to the mall so I could try it on for them. They
were helping pay for it, plus I wanted their feedback. But deep down, I
knew (even though I never would have admitted it aloud) what I really
wanted was for my father to tell me I was beautiful. I don’t know why
it was so important to me, but in that moment, I desperately wanted the
man who raised me to look at me all dressed up and see that I was a
beautiful young woman– not just outwardly, but inwardly. I was hungry
to hear those words from this person who meant so much to me. Beautiful. You are so beautiful.
Recently I have been reflecting on that feeling and I’ve realized
that for a long time, I have wanted so much to be told that I am
beautiful. And again, it is not really about outward beauty (although I
wouldn’t argue with having some of that!). It’s about my desire for
the people I care about to look at me and see something special inside,
something beautiful.
The problem is that I have spent so much time chasing after all sorts
of things in hopes of making people see me as special and beautiful–
and, for that matter, to try to see myself as special and beautiful. I
have looked for my value and worth in numerous things, from achievements
to physical attractiveness to my role as a mother. And yet, no matter
how hard I’ve tried, it’s never been quite what I’m looking for.
Underneath it all, I still have not felt beautiful or special. I have
felt as though I’m whoring myself out in search of affirmation, and any
affirmation I do get is short-lived and provides limited satisfaction.
What absolutely blows my mind is that I am beautiful, not
because of anything I have done, but because God says so. I am created
in his image, and he is the one who defines my worth and value.
Anything I do on my own will be empty. When I am trying to show people
how intelligent or insightful (or whatever else) I am, it is an attempt
to take matters into my own hands in hopes that they will admire and
validate me. But if I will step back and allow God to shine
through me, people will certainly see something beautiful and special–
but they won’t just be seeing me. They will be seeing him– and that is
the beauty I want to reflect.
You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust.
You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us.
-Gungor- Beautiful Things
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Faith and Obedience
Many times I have heard the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”
But I am not convinced that this is actually an accurate statement. If I could handle everything that comes my way, I would have significantly fewer opportunities to put my faith in God. After all, if I’ll never get more than I can handle, then it would be pretty easy to put my faith in myself. No worries, God, I’ve got this one!
No, I absolutely believe that we are given more than we can handle ourselves. There comes a point when all you can do is give it to God and trust him. And to be honest, when I look back at the things I have tried to handle on my own in the past, I am quite happy to admit that there are some things that God is better off handling because, well, he’s God and I’m not.
I am in one of those places in my life right now. With finances very tight, a house that is barely big enough for our family as it is, and a poor housing market, we have recently found out that we are expecting another child. And I am realizing that while, yes, there are some things we can do, we are going to have to trust God in a major way. Financially, long-term, this is a situation that is beyond our control. It is more than we can handle on our own.
Normally the realization that I cannot make it happen for myself would stress me out. But now I am seeing the beauty in surrendering to God and having faith in him to work in our situation in the way he sees fit. I know he will come through. Perhaps our house will sell, perhaps we will have just enough to get by, perhaps we will have more than enough, or perhaps God will give us the patience and fortitude we need to get through a challenging time. In what particular way he will come through, I do not know, but I know that he is faithful, he knows what we need better than I do, and I trust him.
Along with this faith and trust, though, is the willingness to listen and obey. Faith and trust are not passivity and laziness cloaked in clever spiritual-sounding terms. I must spend time in prayer, not only talking, but also listening. Is there something God wants me to do? Something he wants me to give up? Something he wants me to change? Then I must hear him and obey.
I cannot handle everything that comes my way, not on my own. But by experiencing situations that are beyond what I can handle, I am learning to put more faith in God, to listen more closely to his voice and to trust him to guide me. And, because I believe he is a good shepherd, I believe he will do what he knows is best for me, even if that doesn’t look the way I expected it to look.
But I am not convinced that this is actually an accurate statement. If I could handle everything that comes my way, I would have significantly fewer opportunities to put my faith in God. After all, if I’ll never get more than I can handle, then it would be pretty easy to put my faith in myself. No worries, God, I’ve got this one!
No, I absolutely believe that we are given more than we can handle ourselves. There comes a point when all you can do is give it to God and trust him. And to be honest, when I look back at the things I have tried to handle on my own in the past, I am quite happy to admit that there are some things that God is better off handling because, well, he’s God and I’m not.
I am in one of those places in my life right now. With finances very tight, a house that is barely big enough for our family as it is, and a poor housing market, we have recently found out that we are expecting another child. And I am realizing that while, yes, there are some things we can do, we are going to have to trust God in a major way. Financially, long-term, this is a situation that is beyond our control. It is more than we can handle on our own.
Normally the realization that I cannot make it happen for myself would stress me out. But now I am seeing the beauty in surrendering to God and having faith in him to work in our situation in the way he sees fit. I know he will come through. Perhaps our house will sell, perhaps we will have just enough to get by, perhaps we will have more than enough, or perhaps God will give us the patience and fortitude we need to get through a challenging time. In what particular way he will come through, I do not know, but I know that he is faithful, he knows what we need better than I do, and I trust him.
Along with this faith and trust, though, is the willingness to listen and obey. Faith and trust are not passivity and laziness cloaked in clever spiritual-sounding terms. I must spend time in prayer, not only talking, but also listening. Is there something God wants me to do? Something he wants me to give up? Something he wants me to change? Then I must hear him and obey.
I cannot handle everything that comes my way, not on my own. But by experiencing situations that are beyond what I can handle, I am learning to put more faith in God, to listen more closely to his voice and to trust him to guide me. And, because I believe he is a good shepherd, I believe he will do what he knows is best for me, even if that doesn’t look the way I expected it to look.
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Shepherd
In Luke 15, Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep. A shepherd goes out searching for his sheep when he realizes one is lost, and once he finds it, he rejoices. He lifts it onto his shoulders and carries it to safety. John wrote that Jesus called himself the good shepherd. And most of us know the beginning of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd.”
But in modern American culture, we are limited in our understanding of sheep and shepherds. However, I recently had an experience that I think helps me understand the analogy a little better. While I was in another room of the house, making preparations for a family trip, I heard the front door open and close. Immediately I went to the living room to see what was going on, and I quickly realized my two year old son was missing. I looked out the front door, and to my horror, saw him gallivanting across the street with nothing on but a diaper and a pair of mismatched socks. My heart dropped, my mama bear instinct kicked in (or perhaps I should say my shepherd instinct!) and I ran out the door, calling his name. When I reached him at the other side of the street, I scooped him up in my arms, held him to me so closely and so tightly, and thanked God he was okay. Like the shepherd who found his lost sheep, I rejoiced and carried him to safety.
It is worth noting that sheep, just like my toddler that afternoon, are not really aware that they’re putting themselves in potentially dangerous situations. They do not realize what could happen to them. This is why they need a shepherd to protect and guide them. The shepherd used his rod and staff to fight off predators and lead the sheep in the direction they should go. Psalm 23 references this as well: “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” These items were a comfort to the sheep, an assurance that the good shepherd would do everything in his power to protect them and lead them. Likewise, as a parent, I will do everything in my power to lead and protect my children. I will go out searching for them if they are missing, and I will fight anyone and anything that gets in my way. I am their shepherd, gently leading them and fiercely protecting them.
Later, as I reflected on it, I felt as though God was reminding me that this is his heart toward me, toward all of us. God is my good shepherd, the one I can trust to guide and protect me. Notice that the shepherd in the parable does not become angry and punish the sheep once he finds it. Not even close. He rejoices! Many times in my life, I have wandered in the wrong direction and put myself in harm’s way. And God has never punished me for it or decided not to look for me. He has found me, he has protected me, and he has returned me to safety. He loves me– like the good shepherd loves his sheep, like parents love their children.
But in modern American culture, we are limited in our understanding of sheep and shepherds. However, I recently had an experience that I think helps me understand the analogy a little better. While I was in another room of the house, making preparations for a family trip, I heard the front door open and close. Immediately I went to the living room to see what was going on, and I quickly realized my two year old son was missing. I looked out the front door, and to my horror, saw him gallivanting across the street with nothing on but a diaper and a pair of mismatched socks. My heart dropped, my mama bear instinct kicked in (or perhaps I should say my shepherd instinct!) and I ran out the door, calling his name. When I reached him at the other side of the street, I scooped him up in my arms, held him to me so closely and so tightly, and thanked God he was okay. Like the shepherd who found his lost sheep, I rejoiced and carried him to safety.
It is worth noting that sheep, just like my toddler that afternoon, are not really aware that they’re putting themselves in potentially dangerous situations. They do not realize what could happen to them. This is why they need a shepherd to protect and guide them. The shepherd used his rod and staff to fight off predators and lead the sheep in the direction they should go. Psalm 23 references this as well: “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” These items were a comfort to the sheep, an assurance that the good shepherd would do everything in his power to protect them and lead them. Likewise, as a parent, I will do everything in my power to lead and protect my children. I will go out searching for them if they are missing, and I will fight anyone and anything that gets in my way. I am their shepherd, gently leading them and fiercely protecting them.
Later, as I reflected on it, I felt as though God was reminding me that this is his heart toward me, toward all of us. God is my good shepherd, the one I can trust to guide and protect me. Notice that the shepherd in the parable does not become angry and punish the sheep once he finds it. Not even close. He rejoices! Many times in my life, I have wandered in the wrong direction and put myself in harm’s way. And God has never punished me for it or decided not to look for me. He has found me, he has protected me, and he has returned me to safety. He loves me– like the good shepherd loves his sheep, like parents love their children.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Grace
I am changing a diaper when I realize yet again how amazing God’s grace is.
God, in all his holiness and all his goodness, knew we could never meet his standards on our own. And rather than punish and condemn us, he helped us. He bridged the gap between us and himself. We are like little children, and he is the compassionate father who sees that we simply cannot do it on our own and reaches down to help us. We are the toddlers who cannot use the toilet, and he is the parent who gently cleans us and patiently teaches us a better way, helping us move toward the goal.
Because of the grace he gives me, the grace I have done nothing to earn, I am compelled to pass that same grace on to others. Scripture tells the story of the man whose enormous debt was forgiven, yet he went out and demanded smaller debts from other people. This is not the person I want to be. I have been forgiven for so much. I have been given so much grace. How can I possibly have the audacity to be unforgiving and not extend grace to others?
And while God’s grace does not punish us for being unable to meet his standards, neither does it nullify those standards. God is not a punitive God, nor is he permissive. As a parent, this speaks to me. If this is how God has chosen to treat me, his child, I want to do everything in my power to treat my children the same way. In doing so, I hopefully will show them a glimpse of what God is like-- his love for them, the grace he gives them. As someone who has been forgiven and redeemed, I hope God is reflected in all my relationships, including those with my children.
And yes, I fail at this regularly. But even in my failures, God has grace and forgiveness for me. As I walk with my children, meeting them where they are, he walks with me. And unlike me, he never fails. And I am so grateful. His love is amazing, indescribable, beautiful.
God, in all his holiness and all his goodness, knew we could never meet his standards on our own. And rather than punish and condemn us, he helped us. He bridged the gap between us and himself. We are like little children, and he is the compassionate father who sees that we simply cannot do it on our own and reaches down to help us. We are the toddlers who cannot use the toilet, and he is the parent who gently cleans us and patiently teaches us a better way, helping us move toward the goal.
Because of the grace he gives me, the grace I have done nothing to earn, I am compelled to pass that same grace on to others. Scripture tells the story of the man whose enormous debt was forgiven, yet he went out and demanded smaller debts from other people. This is not the person I want to be. I have been forgiven for so much. I have been given so much grace. How can I possibly have the audacity to be unforgiving and not extend grace to others?
And while God’s grace does not punish us for being unable to meet his standards, neither does it nullify those standards. God is not a punitive God, nor is he permissive. As a parent, this speaks to me. If this is how God has chosen to treat me, his child, I want to do everything in my power to treat my children the same way. In doing so, I hopefully will show them a glimpse of what God is like-- his love for them, the grace he gives them. As someone who has been forgiven and redeemed, I hope God is reflected in all my relationships, including those with my children.
And yes, I fail at this regularly. But even in my failures, God has grace and forgiveness for me. As I walk with my children, meeting them where they are, he walks with me. And unlike me, he never fails. And I am so grateful. His love is amazing, indescribable, beautiful.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Faith
I was planning a lesson for children’s church about Moses and the Exodus. As I read through the Bible story, a particular scene caught my attention. God had just told Moses that he wanted him to go back to Egypt and rescue his people.
Moses doubted himself. “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And God promises to be with him. And then God promises Moses a sign.
“This will be the sign that it is I who will send you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”
Now, most of us know how the rest of the story went. We know that God did some amazing things in order to bring his people out of Egypt and to show that he was indeed God. But put yourself in Moses’ place for a minute. When he woke up that morning, he had no idea that God was going to interrupt his normal daily life and give him such an enormous job. And now he’s standing here, trying to take in this impossible-sounding assignment, and God tells him he will give him a sign-- after he brings the people out of Egypt.
When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.
I sat and pondered this for a while. If God asked me to do something that I felt totally comfortable and confident doing, obeying wouldn't require much faith. But would I have the faith to step out and do something that sounded so impossible? Something that terrified me? Something I didn't feel confident enough to do? And what if the sign that it was really from him would not come until after I had done the thing he was asking me to do?
Once God has interrupted your life in such a dramatic fashion, you have a choice: You can step out in faith and obey in spite of your fears, or you can ignore what has just happened and try to go back to your daily life.
Moses obeyed. Despite his fears, despite his worries, he obeyed. The only other option was to ignore what had happened to him and try to go back to life as usual. But I suspect that even if he had done that, things never would have felt the way they did before. He would always have that niggling feeling in the back of his mind, down deep in his spirit, that God was calling him to something more...
Moses doubted himself. “Who am I to go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” And God promises to be with him. And then God promises Moses a sign.
“This will be the sign that it is I who will send you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”
Now, most of us know how the rest of the story went. We know that God did some amazing things in order to bring his people out of Egypt and to show that he was indeed God. But put yourself in Moses’ place for a minute. When he woke up that morning, he had no idea that God was going to interrupt his normal daily life and give him such an enormous job. And now he’s standing here, trying to take in this impossible-sounding assignment, and God tells him he will give him a sign-- after he brings the people out of Egypt.
When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.
I sat and pondered this for a while. If God asked me to do something that I felt totally comfortable and confident doing, obeying wouldn't require much faith. But would I have the faith to step out and do something that sounded so impossible? Something that terrified me? Something I didn't feel confident enough to do? And what if the sign that it was really from him would not come until after I had done the thing he was asking me to do?
Once God has interrupted your life in such a dramatic fashion, you have a choice: You can step out in faith and obey in spite of your fears, or you can ignore what has just happened and try to go back to your daily life.
Moses obeyed. Despite his fears, despite his worries, he obeyed. The only other option was to ignore what had happened to him and try to go back to life as usual. But I suspect that even if he had done that, things never would have felt the way they did before. He would always have that niggling feeling in the back of his mind, down deep in his spirit, that God was calling him to something more...
Monday, March 14, 2011
A Simple Cup of Coffee
For a few weeks, this thing has been building. I have been purposely ignoring someone who is simply being friendly, someone who only wants a cup of coffee and a chat in the middle of his day. He comes by the church almost every Saturday while I am there cleaning. I have come to expect that he will stop by and ask if there’s any coffee. And yet every Saturday, I do not make coffee.
But the last time that scenario played out, I felt convicted. I had that sinking feeling inside that I knew what I was doing was not okay. And I asked myself, why am I doing this? It’s such a simple thing. A cup of coffee, a short chat, a friendly face. Why in the world would I knowingly, purposely deny him that?
I could blame it on my introversion, my shyness, or my desire to spend some time alone. Yes, I am introverted. Yes, I am shy. Yes, I enjoy spending a little time alone on Saturday mornings. But none of those things made it okay for me to refuse to give this man what he was looking for. The truth is, there really was no good reason for it.
So this Saturday, I made him coffee. He came in, poured a cup for himself and a cup for me, and we talked. It was just a short time. Five minutes, maybe ten. I had given him a travel mug to drink from, and when he left, I told him to go ahead and take it with him and come in for a refill next Saturday.
Perhaps a new tradition has begun.
I like to talk about community and the concept of loving others, but I wonder if sometimes I get so caught up in looking at the big ways of doing it, or just pondering it theoretically, that I miss so many little opportunities. Truth be told, there are opportunities throughout our daily lives to lift people up, encourage them and love them. How many times do I ignore those opportunities? More than I would like to admit, I think.
"We can do no great things; only small things with great love." -Mother Teresa
But the last time that scenario played out, I felt convicted. I had that sinking feeling inside that I knew what I was doing was not okay. And I asked myself, why am I doing this? It’s such a simple thing. A cup of coffee, a short chat, a friendly face. Why in the world would I knowingly, purposely deny him that?
I could blame it on my introversion, my shyness, or my desire to spend some time alone. Yes, I am introverted. Yes, I am shy. Yes, I enjoy spending a little time alone on Saturday mornings. But none of those things made it okay for me to refuse to give this man what he was looking for. The truth is, there really was no good reason for it.
So this Saturday, I made him coffee. He came in, poured a cup for himself and a cup for me, and we talked. It was just a short time. Five minutes, maybe ten. I had given him a travel mug to drink from, and when he left, I told him to go ahead and take it with him and come in for a refill next Saturday.
Perhaps a new tradition has begun.
I like to talk about community and the concept of loving others, but I wonder if sometimes I get so caught up in looking at the big ways of doing it, or just pondering it theoretically, that I miss so many little opportunities. Truth be told, there are opportunities throughout our daily lives to lift people up, encourage them and love them. How many times do I ignore those opportunities? More than I would like to admit, I think.
"We can do no great things; only small things with great love." -Mother Teresa
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Empathy
After my experience on Sunday morning, I am not sure what to do. I feel like I cannot carry on as usual and pretend it never happened. Even when I do carry on as usual, something in me feels... unsettled. I am reminded of what James has said about being "haunted" by the Holy Spirit; when you are haunted, you are unable to live a normal life.
It's not that I feel an urge to go out and try to fix everyone's problems. For once, I don't feel that way. I know that is not my place. But I am left asking myself, what do I do with this? I sat in that room and became immensely aware of people's pain and God's compassion. That is real, and I cannot ignore it.
Empathy is a gift, I think. And I think that is at the core of what I felt on Sunday. There have been many times in my life when I have felt so strongly what other people are feeling. Combine empathy with intuition, and yes, I absolutely believe it is a gift that God wants to use. Not that I am "special" somehow; I think we each have a gift he wants to use. But perhaps this is mine.
But what do you do with empathy and intuition? As with any gift, some people might use these things to manipulate others. But I don't think that is what empathy and intuition should be used for.
I want to use them to connect with other people. When you can "read" people well, and pick up on their emotions, you are better equipped to come alongside them and encourage them or help them through their problems. You can pray for them with a keen sense of what they are going through.
In fact, it hit me the other day that this is part of what Jesus did in his life here on earth. He became human. He can empathize with our struggles, fears, and joys. And Scripture says he intercedes for us with God.
As I look at the life of Jesus, I am so encouraged by what he did with his empathy and understanding of people. He had compassion. He loved them. He encouraged them. He spoke hard truths when necessary. He didn't let himself become completely overwhelmed by the pain of other people. He intercedes for us.
And so while I am still left wondering how, specifically, God wants to use me, I am not anxious and worried about it. I simply feel led to get to know the people in my life better, to spend time developing relationships with them, and encouraging them when I can, and praying for them. And I know I do not have to let myself get overwhelmed by other people's pain; I can be aware of it, let the feelings run through me, and give it to God.
But one thing is for sure; I cannot go on as though Sunday morning never happened.
It's not that I feel an urge to go out and try to fix everyone's problems. For once, I don't feel that way. I know that is not my place. But I am left asking myself, what do I do with this? I sat in that room and became immensely aware of people's pain and God's compassion. That is real, and I cannot ignore it.
Empathy is a gift, I think. And I think that is at the core of what I felt on Sunday. There have been many times in my life when I have felt so strongly what other people are feeling. Combine empathy with intuition, and yes, I absolutely believe it is a gift that God wants to use. Not that I am "special" somehow; I think we each have a gift he wants to use. But perhaps this is mine.
But what do you do with empathy and intuition? As with any gift, some people might use these things to manipulate others. But I don't think that is what empathy and intuition should be used for.
I want to use them to connect with other people. When you can "read" people well, and pick up on their emotions, you are better equipped to come alongside them and encourage them or help them through their problems. You can pray for them with a keen sense of what they are going through.
In fact, it hit me the other day that this is part of what Jesus did in his life here on earth. He became human. He can empathize with our struggles, fears, and joys. And Scripture says he intercedes for us with God.
As I look at the life of Jesus, I am so encouraged by what he did with his empathy and understanding of people. He had compassion. He loved them. He encouraged them. He spoke hard truths when necessary. He didn't let himself become completely overwhelmed by the pain of other people. He intercedes for us.
And so while I am still left wondering how, specifically, God wants to use me, I am not anxious and worried about it. I simply feel led to get to know the people in my life better, to spend time developing relationships with them, and encouraging them when I can, and praying for them. And I know I do not have to let myself get overwhelmed by other people's pain; I can be aware of it, let the feelings run through me, and give it to God.
But one thing is for sure; I cannot go on as though Sunday morning never happened.
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