if he says stay :: 5 minute Friday

This week I've been working through faith and works.  Really trying to figure out, what are these "works" that are the fruit of our faith?  Starting to feel the beginnings of a heart broken for what grieves God.  And feeling helpless.

We've prayed, Lord, do what you will with us.  And we pray it again and again.  Giving it up and saying it is all fair game.  And we wait.

I've learned that God tends to move slowly, not hurried, like the world that I live in or my human tendencies.  But he guides us through the process, waiting on him.  Giving us time to grow in trust.  

But in the waiting I'm overwhelmed by what I see.  Orphans and human trafficking and abortion and injustice of all kinds.  With broken heart I'm wanting to do something.  Although I do do something.  I give my money and my prayers, but I start feeling like what if that's not good enough.

And I'm convicted.  Like the rich young ruler who wants to get into heaven by his works, I'm tempted with the same.  I'm tempted by the mentality that my works change my standing with Jesus.  I'm tempted by the mentality that how publicly I seek justice and do works changes my worth to Him.  This is simply not true.  

I remember Jesus' words... when the rich young ruler was overwhelmed at the task before him, and feeling defeated, walked away.  Jesus says, “With people it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God.”  Jesus knew that what he would tell the rich young ruler would be the last straw of an overwhelming load to bear.  A load far too heavy for a human back.  He knew that we would need Jesus to bring true and final justice.

So I lean into Jesus.  Choosing to believe that he sees just as much beauty in laying down my life for my kids on a daily basis as those in huts in Africa.  He sees beauty in the discipleship of small hearts.  In serving lunches and giving baths and wiping tears.  In reading stories that show of God's goodness throughout the ages.  Stories that tell that we are all in the same boat and far from what is required to live with God.  But the story of a God who loved us too much to let it stay that way.  

I learn in the story of the talents that God cares not about how many talents I am given, but the fact that I am faithful with what is before me.  

I am here.  Now.  Tempted to look to the future and take a peek into God's plan.  But that is only my sinful need to control and have knowledge that is not mine to have.  

But I am here.  A mom on her knees, seeking to please God with what is before me.  Two sweet boys that exhaust me and show me how self-centered I truly am on a minutely basis.  A wife to a husband who has the same dreams and the same open hands, offering up all that we have and are.  Knowing that if we are called to go, and do something wildly different than we imagined, we will go.  But also knowing that if this simple life in Grand Rapids, working, sharing life, raising babies, serving our neighbors, and taking every opportunity to glorify God in the mundane, we will also stay.  And we will glorify God all the same.

who is the least?

I have been so caught up in Matthew 25:31-46.  Needing to wrap my mind around what Jesus was saying here. And I was unable to understand in a way that fit in with the rest of what I knew to be true. Now finally... a bit of enlightenment.  I can breathe.

In this passage, Jesus identifies himself with the least.  Those that needed clothing and drink and food.  Jesus says that whoever gives clothing and food and drink to the least of these does so unto Him.  Okay, but what does this really mean?  What does he expect of me?  Does this mean that I have to spend every possible moment serving the poor?  Those "worse off" than me?  Because, let's face it, simply being a middle-class American puts me in the top 1% most wealthy in the world.  Regardless of how I feel, I am in a position to give a life-changing $5 to someone in need.

I started to feel weighed down, as if I weren't living well if I weren't pouring myself out for the disadvantaged.  And this thought exhausted me.  We have ministry that we are involved in both through our church and personally that keep us busy.  We also give money to a couple of different people or organizations that work with the third world countries, but our active involvement stops there.  There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus values this work, but I kept feeling like I was missing a HUGE piece here.

I was so focused on those who were seen as less than me.  Having less than me.  In doing so, I was making myself greater.  I'm putting myself on this pedestal as if I am something great.  When in reality, I don't feel that I have anything to offer.  I feel so inadequate to be an example to anyone, because I know that Jesus is the only true reason I have value.

So here I am, elevating myself and seeing how I can be "good" and serve the least.  Because it is commanded, right?

And again I read, he who is first shall be last, and the last shall be first.  And it hits me.  I am the least.

I am reading Jen Hatmaker's bible study, Interrupted.  And I must admit, I've been reading much of it through a critical eye.  Her writing style is difficult for me to follow (at least in this bible study format) and there are times I haven't agreed with what she has said, but this is mainly because I know it is about her journey and my place in my journey is simply different.  All that to say, it has sparked questions in me that I haven't addressed for quite some time.  It's challenged me to really understand what God is saying here and not assume that it is what I've been taught my whole life.  It's made me want to fully understand this text, even if it is just so I can figure out if I agree with Jen's opinion or not.  (I'm planning to do a review of her study when I'm finished.)

But through examining Matthew 25 and reading this Bible study and spending the past two weeks in mental turmoil and prayer over this passage, I fianlly realize that Jesus is identifying with me.  Compared to Him, I am the lowest of lows.  The chief of sinners, to quote Paul.  And suddenly I feel valued, knowing that when he cares deeply about the least, he is talking about me.  And his identification with me is what allows me to spend all eternity with Him.

I think as I was working through this I started to get this perspective that God cared more about the physically impoverished and poor than he did me.  This was completely wrong, which I know, which is why I felt such unrest about it.  But I feel like I now see that we are all the least.  And our command is to love the Lord first, and to love each other well second.  Because we are all valuable in God's eyes.  We all bear his image.  Nothing changes that.  Not race or nationality or wealth or education.

So when I am commanded to serve the least, yes, justice on this earth is important.  It is part of loving and being imitators of Christ.  I do think there is a level of responsibility to make right the things that grieve God.  It comes out of the overflow of my understanding that I, too, fall short but have received grace.  Just as important is the fact that I love and serve my neighbor well, regardless of their financial or social standing.  Because we all bear the image of God.  

Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, and mind.  And love your neighbor as you love yourself.

Let's love well, friends.

faith and works and real life

For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.  James 2:26

How is that for an opener?  

This is a concept I have been chewing on over the past many weeks.  Faith and works.  There's no easy or clear way to get into all that my brain has been churning, but I know two truths here.

I am saved because of my faith, by grace.  Jesus on the cross.  God reads His resume instead of mine when the day comes.  And I am clean.  White as snow.  This is truth.  I know get to be a part of the new earth, spending all eternity with God.  Not because of any work or deed that I did.

But, God still cares about what I do here on earth.  Jesus words have made this clear.  The great commission commands that we share this good news of redemption through Jesus to all the earth!  It is clear throughout watching Jesus lifestyle that he identifies with the least.  The poor, the orphan, the widow, the single mom, the mentally ill, the elderly, the disadvantaged.  He desires justice for these people.  He desires that we love our neighbor as ourself and that the church clothe, feed, and give drink to the least.  

I believe both of these things.  With all my heart I believe it.  

But here is where I am struggling with that second part.  What does this mean for me in real life?

For one, I think it means being counter-cultural.  Knowing that the things that our world seeks in attempt to satisfy never really do.  It means that I can hardly make a decision without considering the kingdom impact.  It means that when we sell our house this summer (hopefully) we can't simply make a decision to move to the best house in the best neighborhood with the best school district, absent-mindedly.  

I've found my mind spinning in circles trying to figure out where we should live.  And I know that is part of my problem, that simply I am trying to figure it out, and while I am in prayer over it, I've been unwilling to be patient.  I want knowledge and control.  Isn't that what caused the fall of man in the first place?  But ultimately, I am finding that because of faith... because I know Jesus is real and heaven is near, the simplest decisions such as where I live and who my neighbors are have kingdom impact.  

It's easy for me to feel the urgent need to move to the inner city and live missionally there, because that gets attention and seems radical.  But at the same time I know that ministry happens in the affluent neighborhoods as well.  The wealthy can be just as lost as the poor.  And ultimately, I must be willing to accept whatever God has for me, even if it looks different than I might have guessed.  Even if it doesn't get quite the same attention or turn the heads (because that isn't the point either).  I have to be willing to be called to the great task, but also know that faithfulness in the small ones is just as valuable.  

Faith without works is dead.  Because if we know and believe Jesus is who he says he is, we will devour the Word of God and depend on the guidance of the Spirit in the steps that we take.  Works is the overflow of faith.  It is not salvation, but the fruit of it.  It is the love that our neighbor receives when we love the Lord our God with all of our heart.  

Works can look like living in the inner city and spending my days with the homeless and abandoned and abused.  Works can look like being bold in a conversation with a co-worker to find out if he knows Jesus.  Works can look like bringing a meal to that family that just adopted three children.  Works can look like adopting or fostering.  Works can look like spending the next 18+ years pouring into and discipling your children.  Works can look like foregoing that new 52" TV and sending a check to that agency fighting human trafficking instead.  Works can look like moving to Africa or Jamaica or Morocco or China or Los Angeles or East Grand Rapids and sharing life and speaking truth.  

Seeking Jesus radically means we're open to whatever he has.  Anything.  It's me opening my hands and my life and saying Your kingdom come and Your will be done.  And being obedient to that call.  It is being faithful with what is before us while seeking His will in the steps that we take.  

We are commanded two things above all else.  Love the Lord and love your neighbor.  We will know how to do this by getting to know Jesus.  I can't figure this out on my own, as much as I try.  I can't control my kingdom impact, only through the Spirit.  My responsibility is two-fold.  Know the written word of God.  Devour it and eat it up and memorize it and speak it and eat it again.  Know the character of God.  See the story of God's kingdom and how we are in need of a perfect Savior who can not fail.  Feel the weight of what Jesus and his sacrifice meant.  This is God's word.  And press into the Spirit for guidance for applying that to life in the western culture of 2013.  

I'm praying through this more in this season than I ever have before.  It's a reason I've been quiet here, because my mind has been so overwhelmed, I am unsure how to even begin discussing what is so heavy on my heart.  But I can't tell you how much more clear I feel after spitting that out in writing.

I once used this blog as a space for me to process my thoughts, and share a little bit of life.  Somewhere along the way, I started becoming afraid to do that.  I started getting more followers and feeling more pressure to have something good for you.  I started feeling the need to water down my passion a bit.  

I just can't do that anymore.  Take it or leave it, I'm going to use this space to work out my faith, my life, and how that fits together.  The good, the bad, the ugly, the utterly confusing.  This is a place where I'm inviting open dialogue and sharing life on this journey.  

So while we are at it, what are your thoughts on this?  Read Matthew 25 and share your thoughts on this as well.  I can't get this passage out of my mind, but after some researching and prayer, I think I have a bit of peace and perspective regarding this passage (especially 31-46).  

And can I just say, I'm so so so thankful for those of you who are on this journey with me.

when I choose to be brave

Self-confidence is a valued thing in our culture.  Know who you are and embrace it.  Don't care what other people think.  Be true to yourself.

Be a confident woman.

But is anyone really that confident in themselves when they are truly living boldly?  Taking risks?

Perhaps I am alone in this.  I'm willing to embrace it if I am.  But, I often find that in the areas of my life where I am the most passionate, I tend to experience the most fear.

There is that defeating little voice that says I'm not enough.  It breeds insecurity, saying, who cares about that?  Who do you think you are to do this?  Or simply, that's just dumb.

And it totally snuffs out my fire.  Instead of confidence and passion, I start to feel insecure and even embarrassed.

I start to believe that voice, if I'm not careful.

But what if hearing that voice doesn't mean I'm not qualified?  That what I am made of isn't enough?  Or that it is a just plain dumb thing to do?  What if it means that I need to jump?  Take that risk.  Write that blog post.  Take that job.  Say "no" to that one more thing.  Draft that book.  Be brave.

Fear is often part of the territory when it comes to being brave.  But if that thing that is stirring in my heart is a nudging from the Spirit... asking me to come alive and do what I was created to do, it is a risk I must take.  To express the parts of me that need to be said and need to be heard.  Then I don't need to be confident in myself, but I need to be confident that the one who created me has a plan that must be carried out.  He's telling me that I'm the one for the job.

If I'm seeking Him, there's little room left for insecurity.  For fear.  Because if I believe Him, I know he's got that covered.  Knowing who I am, first and foremost, as a daughter of the King.  With a voice and a message and a reason to be bold.

And we know that Satan has every reason to want to keep us from being bold, radical, in our lives.  He wants us to think that we must have it perfected and be confident in ourselves to have anything worth being bold for.  But in living out of ourselves, we will only run dry.

So, today, me taking the risk is mothering in grace and believing that (with His help) I am enough.  Taking that risk means that I'm going to trust that he has me writing these words here in this little internet space for a reason, and it is not something I should feel insecure or timid about.  Taking that risk means taking my dreams to Him and not being afraid to see them come alive.  It means that I should not be afraid to be my unique self, with all my passions and callings.

What is the voice of insecurity saying to you?  Chances are, that voice isn't conviction, but fear.  And chances are, this is an area you may need to stand in the face of fear and choose to be bold.

entering two with patience

With the coming and going of each season, I now find myself thinking back on the one before.  The changes happen so quickly with babies.  I often look between my two boys and am in awe at the difference only a short 15 months can make.

I am in awe of the many things I haven't needed to teach them.  I heard it once said that, "everyone needs to have two babies.  Because you think you did it all with the first one, and then the second one comes along and you realize how much it wasn't you."

I have a boy who is turning TWO this month.  A mere two years ago he was still kicking my ribs and we were planning for a birth that would go completely differently than I had planned.  But today he is running, and jumping, and talking about chop-choo trains and tractors and bulldozers and says "please" and "thank you, mama" and melts my heart with his mischievous smile.

Oh, the mischief.

Did I say that we are nearing TWO?

You never quite know what you are going to get.  And I know it's not his fault, it is just being two.  An answer of "no" may get a calm and acceptable response, or it might get an all-out kicking and screaming-bloody-murder, terrible-twos tantrum.

These are the teachable moments.

For him, yes, but mostly for me.

For him, I believe that this is mostly a stage that will pass.  Of course I try to teach him acceptable responses to anger, to use his words instead of screaming, and to make good choices.

But he doesn't have to take me with him into those tantrums.  Oh, how often I realize that I, too, want to stomp my feet and demand my way with an attitude and heart not all that different from my two-year-olds.  But the problem with this is not only the juvenile behavior, but the way this attitude effects how I view my child.  My heart is no longer in a position to teach and love when I let frustration overwhelm me.

But I do.  Often.  And I hate it.

Dinner time and bed time are often trigger-moments for this two-year-old.  I have learned that, while I must give him a warning a few minutes in advance about what we are about to do, I also must prepare myself to be patient.  Not just yelling, "Jude, sit down for dinner" and expecting an obedient child, only to find myself frustrated when it doesn't go my way yet another night.

For me, it is mind over emotion.  To be patient with my son.  To not hurry him.  To give him options, with the opportunity to make good choices.  To praise him often.

And if it results in the dead-weight-screaming-two-year-old (as it often does), I at least have control over myself.  To continue to be patient and not let the frustration get the best of me.  To not act in anger.  And to not let my blood boil.

It is like turning off your emotions when you feel that they could get the best of you. Going numb to the frustration and irritation and just choosing something else instead.  At least, this is what works for me.  Allowing me to stay consistent and clear-minded.

It allows me to extend more grace.

Do I do this all the time?  Far from it.  But I'm aware of it.  How often do I chose to give in to frustration and anger and complaining?  I know I have a choice.  I have a choice in my parenting, in my marriage, and in my everyday interactions.  A choice that can either turn your heart toward someone or away from them.  Always choosing the relationship or choosing self first.  That's what it comes down to, it seems.

I pray that in all the moments, the good and the frustrating ones, that my heart would be turned toward my child and that he would know I am on his team.  I fail and I will continue to do so.  But in the mere two years I've gotten to know this boy, I know that he is always watching.  So perceptive and intuitive. Understanding and picking up on far more than I know.  The terrible twos are only practice for the many years to come of needing to choose to turn my heart toward my child even when he wrongs me.  When he makes choices that aren't good.  Hoping that he'll see the same patience and unrelenting love that Christ has for us.

removing the bowls.

Seasons of new truth and growth are wonderful and exhausting.

I'm learning loads about myself, but even more about the grace that covers all.  And so I want to know more about this grace and this love demanding a Savior.  I no longer want to depend on what I've been told second-hand my whole life.  A season of eating the real Word is good and needed.

But with it comes responsibility.  I can't read truth and act as if I haven't.  I can't have heart change without life change.  It just doesn't work.

Weeks and weeks ago I read Matthew 5.  Not for the first or even tenth time.  Who knows how many times I have read that we are the light of the world and to place my light on a stand instead of under a bowl (or basket, depending what version you read).

And in my overly-deep and analytic mind, this seemingly simple verse goes on a spiral.

I think in the past I have read this and thought I needed to go out and figure out where my light was.  Instead of realizing that I am the light.  Him in me is the light.  Right where I am.  In my day to day without even leaving my home.  I shine for my kids.  I shine for my friends.  I shine for husband.  Christ in me.

But in this season, I'm looking to identify the bowls I've placed in my life.  The friendships where I have shied away from speaking truth.  Even the attitudes where I choose self over Christ.  The moments where I can shine and serve, but it's easier and more tempting to complain and choose entitlement.

Sometimes my mind is exhausting.  Sometimes recognizing the bowls is exhausting.  And keeping them off is harder work than putting it on.

I think I like to hide under bowls in some areas of my life.  Two stand out in particular to me.

I think I like to put bowls on my blog.  There was a time last fall where I felt the tug to write more.  Share more of my heart.  Be real, truthful, honest.  Encourage, through my mess.  Not for the purpose of just airing my junk, but to seek Christ in the middle of it.

But, multiple times since then, I've been tempted to believe the lies.  That it doesn't matter.  That maybe I'm being too bold or in-your-face or offensive.  That I should back off the Jesus talk.  That nobody cares about that.  That is the bowl of insecurity in my calling here.  And the lies of the Devil.  As dumb as I feel sometimes about taking this little blog seriously, I really do.  But that's not to say I don't feel the risk of putting myself out there like I sometimes do.  I definitely feel that risk.  I pray against this insecurity all the time, but it is there.  Wondering who is reading.  Wondering what they think.

But ultimately, I know that those thoughts aren't from Christ.  Simply, they aren't.  So I keep walking and keep writing and remove that bowl.

I also like to put bowls on my hospitality.  Welcoming people into my home is not a natural gift I have.  It's another area of insecurity for me.  Many many times after I have friends over, I kick myself for not offering the water or coffee sooner.  For not asking more questions about them.  For not being more welcoming.  My natural introvert tendencies are to stay home and keep to myself.  Especially when it comes to inviting people over that I don't know.  But I also have a desperate need for community (I think us ladies were created that way).  Sharing my heart and sharing life with other women.  So I have to talk myself up and remove that bowl telling me I'm a bad hostess and invite the people over and share life in my imperfectness.  I share life with my messy sink and dog hair in all corners and my bedroom door closed, because that's where the mess all hides.  I am making it a priority to open my home, as uncomfortable as that can be for me.  Because sharing meals and sharing life lets the light shine.  It's so much harder to shine through the closed doors.

These bowls of insecurity prevent me from sharing life.  Sharing the light.  Sharing what I'm learning about Christ.  Sharing that I'm imperfect but have found grace.

What bowls do you need to remove to let your light shine?  

when I realize I had it all backwards

We met on Monday morning like we do.  Braving the winter weather and sub-freezing chill, ready to pass off the kiddos to the sitters and quickly preparing our hearts to dig deep and do so quickly.  Two hours can fly by before you know it.

We're trying to be more like David.  The sinful human man who understood God's heart.  Desperate for God.

And the question was asked.  Do you live in need of God?  What does this realistically look like in your life?

And my thought progression goes, well, yeah.  I need God.  I know I need Him.  In my mind, I know I need Him.  But in my life, I act like I need coffee and sleep and people and facebook {shamefully} more.

I remember when I was a new mom.  Into this motherhood gig only a few months, and I cried out asking Mom's how they make the time for everything they need.

The advice was what good for me in that season.  That season where I was adjusting to my new all-consuming role ridden with guilt for not doing-it-all.  They told me to be easy on myself.  That if I don't read my Bible every day and don't do all-the-things that it is okay and that God knows my heart.

And really, that is truth.  It's not about doing all the things.  It is about my heart.  And the message of grace.  Because He never asks us to have it all together first anyway.

But I took that as somewhat of an excuse to be lazy about it.  To not need God, and to start living out of myself.  To not wake up early and read, because I had reasons not to.  To not take the time to be still before Him, because I didn't hardly find time to shower.  Of course, these things never happen intentionally.  But it is just our natural selves that start to show when we lose focus.

A year or so later, I am realizing that I had it all backwards.

I need Him in order to do any good in this motherhood/wife/friend gig.  I need Him first.  I don't need to be a mother or a wife or a friend first.  I need Him to fill me first so the rest can follow. 

For me, that does mean I need to make this a priority.  It means I am reading.  It means I am finding ways to meet with the Lord even when I'm run into the ground exhausted.  David did.  As messed up as he was, he was one of the few people in the Bible who got it.

Isn't it funny how the same lesson learned over and over and over can have new truth in the different seasons?  Of course I had learned before that I need God.  But this truth is taking a new and deeper meaning in my heart.  Or maybe I am just more receptive.  I recently read it best, when said I must narrow my life until Jesus becomes everything.  A difficult, but totally freeing process.  As this happens, all the rest seems so trivial.

In whatever case, this new truth and conviction requires action.  Confession and moving forward, toward Christ.

And so I keep on walking.

 

when I want to bubble up my kids forever

There was a conversation on facebook yesterday about how to explain Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to a young child.  While I am not at the point of having this conversation with my boys yet, this topic is something that has weighed heavily on my mind in the recent months.

The day will come when my boys learn about evil.  That bad things happen to good people.  That hurt happens.  Pain happens.  Discrimination.  Lies.  Hate.  Murder.  Manipulation.  Just evil.

It breaks my heart, because I want their little worlds to stay perfect.  No danger, as it is today.  Full of trust and hope and wonder.  I want to hide them away and bubble them up and keep them from all harm.

But that isn't good for them either.

I don't think anything has shown me God's heart for us more than being a parent has.  That kind of love and willingness to sacrifice.  And his is more than I could imagine.  Far far more.

But it is clear to me that even in my mere nearly-two-years of parenthood, that we are fallen from birth. I have often thought of the command to "do all things without complaining or arguing" as potentially one of the first sinful things people do.  The most basic to our nature.  Kids complain.  They argue.  They don't start out lying or manipulating or stealing.  Just complaining.  And that is already sin.

As I contemplate how I want to, someday, explain the fallen world for what it is, I know have to start at the end.  The gift given because of our fallenness.

Grace.

This world is fallen.

And there is grace.

So you complain and argue.

There will be grace.

So I snap a sharp remark or act out of frustration.

Grace for that as well.

In order for my children to understand our desperate need for grace, they WILL need to {someday} see this fallen world for what it is.  This sad, broken world.  Desperate for a savior.  Because we will never be perfect.

I'm in no hurry to have this conversation.  It will happen someday.  But not tomorrow.  Not at two years old.  And not for many years.  Today I will simply act in grace.  I'll respond in patience and gentleness.  And when I don't.  When I'm imperfect, I'll ask for forgiveness.  We try to be good at that 'round here.

In all things, especially in this season of parenthood, perfection cannot be the goal.  We will only fall time after time.  Grace is the testimony.  I do my best, but my works don't save me.  Only His blood.

That is the one thing I hope my kids walk away with in 18 years.  If nothing else, grace.


*linking up with Heather for Just Write.