when you thirst

I've read this story a zillion times.

The Good Shepherd passes through Samaria when he meets her.  A woman, surely avoiding eye contact as the Jew joins her at the well.  Until He speaks.  He thirsts from his long trek, but not as she does.  He sees beyond appearance.  Beyond her Samaritan roots.  Beyond the hard exterior of a woman who has been wronged and done the wronging of a husband five times over, with yet another man in her bed.  Empty.  Insecure.  Guilt-ridden.  Parched.

A woman He should have nothing to do with for a million reasons or more.

Even in this familiar story, I read this and for the first time realized that I am that woman.  I am that woman who, time and time again, finds other loves to put above Jesus.  Looking for something to fill a void, but always coming up dry.

Once I found that common ground, I could relate with her shame.  Luckily, I don't turn to men, like this woman, and I only have eyes for one.  But when that void is once again attempting to be filled by worldly things, I feel empty.  Yet, I continue to drift toward anything but Him to fill it.

The battle of my flesh.  

But, when he could of condemned, He offers her life.  Living water He calls it.  The kind that quenches for eternity.  It fills every need.  Every thirst.  No emptiness.  No insecurity.  

We all need that water.  And it is free to all.  And oh, how I thirst.  I thirst for life, and the world lies and says they can fill with what they have to offer.

For me, it's things like approval.

Recognition.

But I deepen that thirst with things like comparison.

It breeds toxic thoughts and steals joy.

The sin that spins in my mind that says that I am not enough.  That everyone else must have it all together and that for some reason I am lacking.  

The sin that says that I am unloved.  Or judged.  Or boring.  

Oh, sweet friends.  Whenever we try to find significance and fill up with anything but living water, we will find ourselves toxic.  

I find myself there too often.

Even when we turn to our Christian friends for direction or approval or encouragement, unless we are drinking deeply from the well of life, we will still continue to find ourselves dissatisfied and parched to the core.  

And over and over and over, we'll go to the well.  And over and over and over, we'll look to other loves to satisfy.  Until we drink deep of the living water.  Embrace grace.  And let go of what the world is offering.  

Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

To drink of eternal life is to know the source.  Our creator.  Without Him, there will never be enough.

Lord, may I drink deeply of truth.  And be satisfied in You alone.  

when you long for home

"I want to go back to Jude's house", he says as we drive to the grocery store.

He wants to go home.  His sweet little heart longs for a home and stability and it breaks my heart.

It's not that he doesn't have a home. We're just in-between.  Our home is listing for sale tomorrow, and the boys had been staying at my parents as we finished painting and projects and detailed cleaning.

Truly.  I don't know how people get their home ready to sell while kids and pets are in the house.

This time of transition has left my spirit in turmoil.  Emotions I didn't expect rising up as I prepare myself to say goodbye to a house that holds 6 years of memories.  The home my babies were brought into and nursed in and grew in.  Yet, also the home where we complained and grumbled and grew frustrated over our lack of space to cook a meal together, have people for dinner, or host our house church.

The stress of it all makes me want to run.  To say, forget it.  But everything is lining up for now to be the time to move.  The funds are there.  The mortgage interest rates.  And the timing in our family.  But I'm having such a difficult time detaching form my home when I don't have a home to look forward to.

I feel like Jude.  I want to go home.

As he repeated that from the back seat, my mind drifted to home.  In the sense of our kingdom home.  This in-between stage has reminded me of how temporary and fleeting the things of this world are.  And my attachment and need for home has convicted me that I might be holding to tightly.  I might put too much on where we live and the building and the space we are in.  But really, when I'm run dry from exhaustion and stress, my longing for home is probably really longing for Jesus.

So, this morning, I have a to-do list a mile long, but I'm putting it on the back burner.  Me time.  Spending time reading and remembering that he cares for the birds of the air and I have no need to worry.  Remembering that the things of this world pass away, but he who abides remains forever.

Abiding.

Why is it, when things get crazy, the thing that I need most desperately is the thing that is the first to go?

I feel so weak these days.  Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with my need for Jesus and my lack of discipline to carve out the space I need.  And then I remember that he is here.  Now.  Even if my carved out time is 10 minutes before my feet hit the floor, he is still here with me now.  Always.  Regardless of if I feel crazy or feel shalom.  But Jesus, we need more Shalom.

I'm tempted to put too much weight into the worldly things I can touch.  Where should we live?  What house?  What part of the city?  What neighborhood will become our new mission field?

And I'm reminded of something I read at one time, although I can't remember where.  I read once that maybe God doesn't care as much about who you marry, as he does about your heart in the process (not talking about being unequally yolked, but rather the idea that you are waiting for "the one").  Surrendering to Him.  Wanting to serve.  Becoming the least, so that your spouse can be made greater (something I fail at daily).  I think the same is probably true about where we live.  I can spin and spin in my mind about where and how big and what's God's will.  Truth is, I know he is most concerned about my heart.  We will serve where we live.  We will choose a home that is intended to serve and have an open door to ministry and breaking bread and loving our neighbor near and far.

None of that has much to do with the house itself.  It's about us, being God's kingdom here on earth.  Loving our neighbors well, because we know that out of all the things, love is the greatest.


Lord, help me to not put too much worth into a house and to put all of myself into your kingdom.  Wherever you take us.  Whomever we come into contact with.  First Your kingdom.

when parenting feels a lot like football (and I need Jesus)

Hello again.

Hello from a season where I simply felt like I didn't have words to share.  Sometimes things are best kept to myself.  Pondered and wondered upon, before just opening my mouth.

I've been pondering how to share life, my heart, and spur and encourage and speak truth without making a big deal of me.  How do I write a blog with my words that makes very little of me and of who I am?  And makes much of Jesus in my life?  I started to believe that it was better to just not say anything at all.

But then I realized, that was more likely insecurity speaking than confidence in the Spirit.  Would Jesus want me to shut up about his goodness in my life?  No!  But Satan would.

So, I'm here.  I'm writing.  I'm continuing to seek Him in my words and what I bring to this space and have asked many for the accountability to let me know if this starts to make too much of me and not enough of Christ.

And also - if you haven't soaked in the Word of God yet today, shut your computer or your phone and read Jesus' words before mine.

So, that's been behind a lot of my writing break.  There's also the fact that I never ever want to write in a way that makes it seem like I'm complaining or I'm ungrateful.  But, let me just say it.  Two years old and 10 months old has shaken my parenting confidence.  And I've decided to write about it because I need camaraderie and encouragement.  And if I feel that way, chances are that you also need to know that you are not alone.

In all honesty, up until the past month or two, I thought I was handling this Mom-of-two deal fairly well.  I knew how to keep Isaac safe from a rampaging toddler.  Methods of choices and distraction worked about 90 percent of the time.  And I kept my cool.

I don't know what changed.  But two years old brings with it a whole new attitude.

Parenting feels a lot like a football field.

At least I imagine so. (don't hold me to it, I failed my football test in gym in 8th grade).  But surely, there are guys whose primary job is to protect the quarterback, right?  And the other team's goal, play by play, over and over, is to take the ball (his toy) and knock him to the ground.  In this game, Isaac is the quarterback.  Jude is the other team.  And I'm the defense - protecting Isaac, keeping him from getting knocked to the ground and his toys constantly stolen.

Only I don't knock Jude to the ground in the process.  Only via time-outs.

If it's not clear by now, I'm not a fan of this game much.

Grace came yesterday in the form of friends stating that they feel the exact. same. way. with their 2.5 year old and 8 month old.  Oh, so it's not just my toddler boy who thinks that tackling, kicking, hair-pulling, and head-butting is the best form of affection (or something).

In all honesty, I've never been one quick to anger until now.  I've been patient, responding in the way I've chosen most of the time.  But when one child is endangering the other?  It's made me snap my tongue more often than I care to admit.

I've never felt more inadequate as a parent than parenting a two-year-old.

And I don't blame him.  He's a boy and he's two.  He's still developing and learning boundaries and the whole bit.  But it is still my job to guide him and love him and teach him about love and grace.  The fact that this is normal and expected doesn't mean that this behavior should be overlooked.  And that job is exhausting.  I fail daily.

And when it comes down to it?  What better way to show him his need for a Savior than a mom who admits that she's so incredibly imperfect too?  If my imperfections mean that he sees his need for Jesus, I'll shout it from the rooftops.

Growing today feels a lot like my the dirty rags that my attempts at goodness are in comparison to God's glory.  Knowing God more means I become less.  It means I see more and more of my own sinfulness and how far I am from holy on my own.

It's tempting to dwell there.  It's tempting to dwell in inadequacy and insecurity and insignificance.  Instead, I know that I am made holy.  I am made clean and perfect.  And I am given God's word and his spirit to guide me.  To convict me and affirm me.  To speak of my value as a daughter of a King.  To bring forth grace when I am so clearly fallen.

Simply put, every day, I'm more stricken by my need for Jesus.  For forever life and for the day to day life.

May I stop trying to find confidence and identity in myself.  Me as a good mom.  Me with well-behaved kids.  Me with a perfect marriage.  Me with a clean house.  Me with early morning quiet times.  This identity will always fail.  My identity in grace, the daughter of the Most High King, will reign always.  So, once again, today I keep walking and seeking my creator for my daily bread.

isn't life still life?

The story is starting to come out of the woodwork.  The nauseating story of the abortionist "doctor" in West Philadelphia who performed hundreds of late-term abortions, resulting in the death of countless babies and at least two of their mothers.

It's completely sickening.  Gut-wrenching to read of what this heartless man did to ensure those breathing babies were "ensured fetal demise".  In talking about it to my husband, he said he had to turn off the radio when they started talking about it.  It's heard to wrap your mind around such evil.

Trust me, the stories are graphic.  Unless you are prepared to handle it, don't go reading about this story.

But I'm seeing it all over facebook.  How horrible this is.  How heartless.  And it's true.  When you hear of breathing babies whose lives are taken in a horrendous act, there is no other word for it.  Murder.

I can't keep quiet.  I still have this nagging feeling.

Why is this different than any of the other thousands of abortions that are performed every day?

Truly.  What is the difference of a few weeks?  6 weeks.  8 weeks.  10 weeks.  Why is this so horrendous to cause so much attention, when babies only a mere couple of weeks or months younger don't receive the same aghast reaction?

Please, let's think about it.

The least of these has been on my heart.  The Lord is near to them.  He identifies with the least.  And in all honesty, I can't imagine anyone more disadvantaged than a child who never has a chance to breathe.  Never given the opportunity.  I just can't be silent.

I don't know what to do.  I'm going to seek it out, all the while knowing that we serve a sovereign God with a Spirit that desires to guide and protect us.  Let's pray for heart change.  For the young girl who wasn't expecting to be a mother so soon.  Let's pray that she would choose to give the gift of a child to another family if she isn't fit.  Let's pray that the doctors who are performing these acts would begin to see the life that they are killing.  Let's pray that those who have a fire in their hearts for life would not fear being bold.

Our country seems to be all about rights.  As if we all have a right to something (which is a whole different issue altogether).  I'm sorry, but I can't understand the band wagon of a woman's right to an abortion.  Life is full of unexpecteds.  Sometimes horrible, life-altering unexpected things.  There is always a choice how to handle it.  In every other unexpected event, you can't go back and erase it as if it had never happened.  You must cope, work through it.  Somehow, we've come to the conclusion that life inside the womb is erasable.  It is simply not true.  Most people who have had an abortion will tell you that it wasn't something they were able to walk away from completely unscathed.  But that is the message we put out there.  That there don't have to be consequences.

Even under the darkest of circumstances, women have the ability to chose life for a child.  It may not be easy, but neither is life.  We live in a world of chaos, but God is the author of life and choosing life for a child over death can allow God's miracle in an otherwise dark time.

Please hear this friends.  I think it is out there that people who have opposing opinions must also hate the opposer.  I can promise that if you have a differing opinion from me, I still love you.  There is much that I hate.  I do hate abortion.  I hate evil.  I hate that there are 50 million lives unaccounted for at the hand of unknowing women and doctors.  I hate that this world has such a twisted view of sexuality.  But, I love you.  You who advocate for women's rights.  You who had an abortion.  You who just can't see from my perspective.  That's fine.  I still love you.  But I'm continuing to pray for hearts changed and lives saved.  There is hope and redemption.  I have not many, but a handful of friends who have such a history and their testimony is powerful as they have experienced God's grace.  I just love their bravery.

Now, let's get on our knees for all the lives lost.  Those that breathed a breath or two, and those that never did.