Everybody Drops Stuff

When I was about twelve, I went on a charitable mission with the Girl Scouts. We brought Thanksgiving food to a family in the poorest of poor neighborhoods. Their dirty house made all of us uncomfortable, but we each stood up a little straighter, determined to “bear our cross,” because, quite simply, we were “better” than these people, and it was our duty to help them.

Before we left, the adult son of the family, who was severely mentally disabled, prayed with us. We prayed our middle-class, “family pew at the Baptist church” prayers; and then this man prayed. We understood not a word he said, because his disability made speech very difficult for him.

Even at twelve, I was a little ashamed. What if, I thought, this man’s very sincere prayer pierced the heart of God far more deeply than any of our pharisaical words ever could?

And then, like a typical human being, I threw the thought away; felt pleased with myself, like a well-groomed cat, for my charitable heart; and went back to focusing on being the best me I could be.

I led a charmed life: top of my class, full scholarships, talented in so many areas, winning writing and art contests left and right with about 2% effort. I was healthy, pretty, slender, funny, friendly, ambitious, made for leadership, honest and full of integrity. Bosses begged me to stay and work for them; teachers and professors showed my work to colleagues; I smashed tests and projects and papers. I went running, hardcore, in the southern heat, and was admired by my friends for my ability to balance work, school, fitness, social life, and hobbies so nonchalantly. I pretended to be humble about it, but inside I glowed with their praise. That’s right, I thought, I’m different from everybody else. I am more special. And because of this, my existence has value.

In spite of all this, I dreamed of more. I could just see it: the perfect “me.” Popular, brilliant, well-loved, patient and kind and always smooth, never awkward--everybody’s favorite. And that’s what I strived for. Accomplishment wasn’t enough. I wanted the whole world to love me.

Popular culture as well as Christian culture fueled my ego, and right alongside that, my self-destructive habits of thought. Unfortunately, these two cultures work hand in hand in many areas. And one thing they agree wholeheartedly about is this: that we must all strive to be the “best we can be.” (Just ask Oprah, with her “live your best life” campaign.)  Christians in the western world tend to be little more than scientologists: we believe we are in control, that circumstances can be manipulated to suit us. You know, the American Dream. If you make it big, it’s because you worked hard. If you don’t, it’s because there’s something inherently wrong with you. Anybody else could have done it, right?

In this economy, there are dozens of versions of yourself, but you must work hard to improve yourself so that you can be the best version of you. It’s like living in a house of mirrors: everywhere you turn, there’s another delusion to distort your perfect image of yourself. ALWAYS something that we are “working on.” And always, always before us, that proverbial carrot, dangling teasingly but never reached: our own idea of what the “perfect me” would look like. And the closer we get, the more frustrated we become. The haunting image of catastrophic failure looms after every social misstep, every bumbled word, every little mistake at work and home. You can “have it all”--and you’re expected to, inside and out.

It’s an illusion.

Growth is good. But the thing about growth is that it cannot be contrived. “Consider the lilies of the field,” Jesus said. A flower doesn’t try to be an oak tree. It doesn’t even try to be a flower. It just is--because of a process outside of itself that it cannot control, a process that requires many factors that somehow work together in divine orchestration--against an insanity of odds. It’s an everyday, millions-multiplied miracle. A seed doesn’t know what a flower looks like.  And I’d imagine it’s not sitting there hankering and straining after something it thinks it ought to be.

If it were, if it had any clue what it wanted to be--it would stay a seed.

I don’t mean to sound like a hippie transcendentalist. But just think about it. The self-improvement industry is a billion-dollar hoax. Don’t you think if you could improve yourself, you wouldn’t need a book about it? Isn’t that an oxymoron?

I’m not saying there’s no such thing as good advice, or value in working through your issues. But the goal of all that stuff shouldn’t be to become some version of us that we are pleased with, that everybody likes, that is “better” than who we currently are.

Maybe you don’t do that. Maybe it’s just me. But I think we are a culture of believers and non-believers alike who are wildly and passionately expending energy under the pressure of ideals that are not real. In other words, we’re spinning wheels and getting nowhere, because the “where” we’re trying to get to isn’t the point.

That’s how my life--my charmed, accomplished life--became a comparison game. Internally I seethed with self-hatred. I wasn’t perfect. I was responsible for everything, and everything was my fault. Comparison games are sick, and they are games that you will never, ever, ever win. They are basically Hunger Games for the soul.

A week or two ago, the power went out at my house on a Friday night. Instantly, I felt inadequate to solve the problem. I had never called the power company before. I had probably chosen the wrong company anyway. The storm that interfered with my power lines was probably my fault, too. Internally, I began to blame myself for everything: why can’t you be more knowledgeable? More responsible? More grown-up? If you weren’t you, none of this would have ever happened.

I know it’s ridiculous, but it didn’t seem so to my subconsciousness on a Friday night at 10 p.m.

As I fumbled for my phone and flashlight in the dark, I knocked a bottle of nice O.P.I. nail polish off my nightstand. (Those who paint their nails will appreciate what a crisis this was. That stuff is expensive!) It broke and got sparkly glitter all over the floor. Gosh, you’re so stupid. Why didn’t you just put that away when you were done with it? Then it wouldn’t have been there. You’re so disorganized. If everybody knew how much of a wreck you were, they would never like you. Now your cat is probably going to step in this and cut her foot and it’s going to be YOUR FAULT.

Your fault. Those words have echoed in sinister whispers to me my whole life. Because, see, if you can contrive to be a perfect version of yourself--you can also become the worst version. You think you’re in control of the whole shebang. It’s a battle, constantly, between your image of the best of yourself and the worst of yourself.

I’ll stop and add a side-note that I struggle with OCD. The chemical imbalances of OCD leave you terrified of what you could do wrong to hurt other people and destroy yourself. Your fault. The responsibility of the whole world falls on your shoulders, just like Atlas who longed for just a moment of relief.

OCD is a real brain disorder, but it’s just an extreme version of what every human deals with every day. The comparison games. The control issues. The perfectionism. Most people have these problems buried deep beneath seeming sanity. It took a moment of insanity to expose to me that I really did have a problem. And that problem was the belief that I was only valuable if I were special, more accomplished than others, and loved by everyone.

I thought, frankly, that the Bible was naive when it said God loved everybody. Sure, He loves everybody, I thought--but who cares? I want to be perfect. And it had to be my perfect--my image of the perfect me.

When I was punched in the face with my own inadequacy, I was brought to my knees in more ways than one.

Then, a pastor asked a provoking question: “What is your idea of success? Like, not the world’s, and not God’s, but yours?”

I had to answer honestly. The ultimate goal of my life was to become this perfect version of myself (however it was I was imagining it), and when I did, the whole world would be in love with me.

In that moment, I realized that the reason I’d been frustrated my whole life was because I thought I was living “for God,” but really inside I was pursuing those other motivations. It all became as clear. My desires were so sacreligious that I should have been burned at the stake.

“But still He gives more grace” (James 4:6).

So when I dropped the nail polish and beat myself up mercilessly about it, I realized that I had been doing that to myself all my life: taking responsibility for everything, and thinking I was going to be punished for imperfection--I guess with power outages. (I don’t know. None of it made sense in the light--or literal lack thereof, in this case.) My friend Ashley told me, “Everybody drops stuff.” But I didn’t want to be Everybody--this nameless body of people who made mistakes. Everybody had imperfections. But if I were Everybody, I would be Somebody different: Somebody whose mistakes had drastic consequences. I was terrified.

But John said this: Perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. We love, because He first loved us (1 John 4:18-19). He also said, When our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart (1 John 3:20).

Poor John. He was an old man on the Isle of Patmos, seemingly a big fat failure, trying to put into words the grace and the love of Christ over a people who were chasing the wrong things. God bless him. We still didn’t get it. Granted, his writing is pretty circular and confusing. But he was trying to express something on the tip of his tongue that is nearly inexpressible.

I’m not saying we’re all just big fat fails. Nor am I saying we shouldn’t work on our issues, or that we should run around sinning at every opportunity. I’m simply saying that we don’t see the whole picture. And because of that, our perspective, the way we interpret the events of our lives, the worldview that we try to fit everything (and everyone) into--they’re all a bit skewed. Or a lot skewed.

It’s not a behavior issue but a perspective issue.

Last night, I got gussied up in my finest clothing and looked like a million bucks. I went to a birthday party and then swing dancing. But I had to leave because my head was throbbing. When I got home, I threw up all the pain reliever I took. I vomited until I was staring into a toilet bowl full of yellow slime from the pit of my stomach (TMI, but this is where it gets real). And still my head would not leave me alone. I tried to think about what I could have done or eaten to bring this headache on. How was it my fault? What inadequacy in me caused my misfortune? Ever since the nail polish revelation, I throw these thoughts away, but they still occur to me.

As I lay in my bed, helpless and frustrated, with my head trying to complete a self-destruct mission, a revelation popped into that twilight zone of almost-asleep:

What if it doesn’t matter?

What if I’m just as lovely to God right now, helpless and in pain and puking my guts out, as I would be on the mission field, saving babies’ lives and spreading the gospel? What if I’m always inhibited by imperfections--roadblocks, illnesses, things that delay the wonderful plans of action I have for making myself accomplished in the kingdom? What if I never do anything spectacular for God? What if I am not as wonderful and accomplished as everyone told me I was my whole life?

What if….just what if….I never become that perfect image of me that I idolized?

What if it’s not about ME at all?

My whole life, I “trusted” God because I thought He was going to give me a better version of me. But maybe that’s not His game. Maybe He doesn’t even have a game. His thoughts are not our thoughts, you know.

What if I simply received His love and let it transform me, like a lily of the field--and worry about it about as much as a seed?

In that moment, I realized that I didn’t care about anything anymore--just Jesus. And that’s not the end. That’s the beginning.

He instructed us to love others and to spread the gospel, yes. We are meant to have good character, yes. We are made for big and divine plans, plans to change the world--yes, yes, yes.

But if these things are what we are living for, we will be a frustrated people. If we try with all our might to become an idea we created, we are destined to failure, the empty ruins of religion, and the bitterness of disappointing our own fickle, incomplete imaginations.

I’m not saying that none of that matters….but I’m saying that none of that matters.

Some of you are offended by this. Still others are thinking, “It took her this long to realize it?” Some of you are saying, “I have no clue what this girl is talking about.” It’s all been as unintelligible to you as that young man’s prayer was to me so many years ago.

He was nothing. He lived nowhere. He could do nothing. He was as helpless as a girl in the bed with a migraine. But from twelve to twenty-nine, I’ve found a different way to see him. I’ve reconciled what made me so uncomfortable so many years ago. I wanted to be different from him.

But you see, I’m not.

We are all helpless. We are all inadequate. We are never going to be perfect. I’m never going to be charming and graceful “like other people.” Every single person in the world isn’t going to fall in love with me.

And that’s ok. It doesn’t even matter.

This is eternal life: that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent (John 17:3). I don’t get that...I’ve been reading it over and over. And yet I do get it--in the same way I understood that young man’s wordless prayer years ago.

That’s what matters. And honestly, it’s a big relief. The weight of the world is not on our shoulders--it’s on His, where it always really was, and always will be.

Just take it from me, “the girl who was perfect”: perfection is a cruel master. But there is One who isn’t.

Therefore Choose Life

I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live...

{Deuteronomy 30:19}

I used to get annoyed when people would talk about the cross.

I know--so un-saved of me, right?

It was just that I saw a bunch of people around me with problems, tons of problems, and the church was telling them, "Jesus covers it all. The cross has the final word. Just come to the altar. Jesus forgives every sin, every addiction, every iniquity!"

And I was like, Yeah, but what about the reality of the sin these people are in? It was still there, ugly and pervasive, with all of its hurtful consequences. I would be annoyed because it just couldn't be that simple. I wanted freedom for people, and I didn't see it happening. I just saw people walking the aisle over and over again, still in bondage to their sin, hurting themselves and other people. I thought, "Why don't they do something about it?

You see, I do think that, often, our perspective of the cross is wrong because it encourages people to just confess their sin, and then keep doing the same thing. In other words, we often intend to preach grace but end up preaching more bondage. But my perspective was wrong, too, because I believed I had no problems myself (ha!). 

I mean, I knew I had issues, but it took some nasty spiritual warfare for me to realize the hopelessness of the situation I would be in without Christ. I began to understand that there was nothing I could do to overcome the sin, issues, and problems that I was born into as a human being. And then I started to see the cross in a different light.

And so I've realized that most of us have had it wrong--including me. I've finally come into the reality that the choice was never between sin and morality. It's not about righteousness or holiness or evil. The battle has always been and always will be between life and death. 

Living in sin causes death. But so does sitting around in condemnation and shame about it. You might as well just keep on sinning if you're going to do that.

You see, the enemy doesn't care if you believe that Christ is the Lord as long as you don't allow Him in to actually bring life into areas of sin. He doesn't bother with shaming unbelievers, because he's already killing them with sin anyway. But believers require some more tricky mind games. He throws shame and condemnation on us because that's equally as effective as sin--if not more so--in separating us from God. 

Through shame, the accuser will distract you with the mirror mirage of sin to draw your attention away from the real issue: death. He comes to "steal, kill, and destroy"...not to increase sin, but to KILL your spirit. If he can do it with sin, great. If he has to use shame and guilt to draw you away from the Living Water, then fine--it's one and the same to him. His end goal for you isn't sin: it's suicide.

He just uses sin because it is the quickest way to death. But he can also use disease, circumstances, disasters....whatever is convenient. He doesn't care. And he'll distract you into thinking that YOU are the problem. It's like the movie The Lion King, when Scar kills Mufasa, then convinces Simba that it's his fault, and tells him to "run away...run away, Simba, and never return!" And when Simba runs, he sends hyenas to kill him. Even though Simba survives, he lives with shame for so long that it becomes his identity, and when he is told that he is a king, he immediately denies it.

It's amazing to me how secular screenwriters are familiar with the devil's schemes, and they don't even know it.

The tree in the garden that brought sin into the world was called the "Tree of the Knowledge of Good AND Evil." Both grew in its branches. And God didn't say, "If you eat from that tree, I'll never forgive you." Or, "If you eat from that tree, I'll have nothing to do with you again." He said, "If you eat from that tree, you will surely die."

It was never about sin and disobedience. It was about life and death.

Sin is a nasty booger, but shame is what isolates us from other people and from God. We think we'll never be good enough for fellowship. That's why the enemy tells us that we should stay home, become a hermit, run from the presence of God, or even kill ourselves. He tells us we're hopeless: we'll never be good enough, that we'll live in this depression forever. He traps us in the web of thinking about our guilt until shame becomes an inextricable part of who we believe we are, and we don't even approach God because we feel like He will reject us. Then shame becomes our god, and we live to worship it, to coddle it, to appease it, to argue with it, to serve it. The rest of that chapter in Deuteronomy doesn't talk about sinning as much as it talks about serving other gods. And I think shame is one of them. 

Adam and Eve hid. It wasn't their sin itself that separated them from God. It was their shame. Like us, they let the enemy distract them from the real consequence (death) with the overwhelming fear that shame brings.

People were not the first to die in the garden. The first to be slaughtered were animals--and God killed them. He killed them as a substitute to make garments to cover Adam and Eve's nakedness--which they would not have been ashamed of if not for the taste of the fruit. It was a type and shadow of Jesus. God was planning our redemption even from the moment we fell.

Yeah, we'll never be good enough. We sin all the time. You know what Jesus has to say about that?

.....So?

Really: So what?

Think about it. It's offensive. But that's what happened on the cross: an exchange that removed sin so that we could see the real battle, the battle between life and death.

If it were about sin, He could have come on the clouds and wiped out all of our sin with some assault rifles of judgment. He could have just given us the death we deserved. But He didn't. He came to die Himself. And then He came back to life, dropped the mic (so to speak), and started pouring the water of life on everyone so that we could actually live.

What a strange God He is. But I think I'll follow Him, because the sound of His voice brings galaxies into existence. He is the creator of all things: the ultimate source of life.

So....back to the issue at hand, the thing I was really frustrated about when I went to church: if the problem isn't really sin, what do we do about all this death?

The answer is this: nothing.

It's done.

Again, offensive to our religious spirit....but it's the truth. You can't shovel your way out of the junk you are in. You can waste a lot of time strategizing how to get out of the mess yourself, but it will get you nowhere except entrapped in more death, stuck in mental bondage. You can worry and worry about your problems if you want. You can give the enemy that power: to not only inspire sin in you, but then cause you to worry about it until it's all you think about, causing a nuclear blast of chronic death that is worse than the sin itself and deforms your real identity.

Yes, face up to your problems. But then allow God to be God. Stop trying to find a way out by yourself. If you spend your life arguing with the devil about who you are, you're going to lose. He's a way better arguer than you are. And at the end of all his arguments is death for you. He wants to use your problems to separate you from the only remedy that can fix them: Jesus. We didn't start the problems, and we can't finish them. There is One who has already done that.

Sometimes what we need to lay on the altar isn't our desires or dreams. It's all that crappy, nasty stuff we've been carrying for years. The stuff we've been hiding from God, shoving it in a closet in our hearts, wrapping it in scriptures in the hope of convincing ourselves that it's not really a problem.

Ironicallly, it isn't...but only if you let Him in to take care of it.

If you totally surrender to Jesus....if you not only refuse to run from Him, but invite Him into the very areas where you are ashamed...if you allow His tender mercy to come into the nasty parts of you and heal...if you pursue intimacy with Him and allow Him to come right into the mess, like He earnestly desires to do....then you will find life.

You can't think your way out. Your only job is to surrender. Believe Him. And spend time with Him. And learn what He really meant when He said, "Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

Like, He's not lying, y'all. He doesn't say, "Come to Me, all of you who have figured out how to solve your own sin problems. Now you're good enough for Me."

Not even close.

Are you weary and burdened? It's not circumstances and cares that cause the most death. It's the junk inside of us.

Invite Him into the very things about yourself that burden you. I don't care what they are. I don't care if you've struggled with them your whole life. I don't care if it looks hopeless to you. If it does, good. Think about the Israelites with the Red Sea before them and Pharoah's army at their backs. If you are so sick of yourself and your internal issues that you see no way out but death, GOOD. You're about to see the Red Sea part. 

Lay yourself down at His feet--not in physical death, but in death to controlling things within you that you can't control. Your emotions. Your thoughts. Your sinful deeds. 

Then forget about it and let Him do His thing. He's the Author of Life. He will naturally bring life to things that are dead, regenerating lost or damaged tissue, restoring and healing. 

And really, that's our only choice. I almost went down the road of obsessive thought and shame, and I felt like a crazy person. Then I thought: well, I can live for the rest of my life in this death cycle...or I can just accept the cross and just see what Jesus will do with all my problems. 

To be frank, that was the option I chose simply because the alternative--continuing in the living death of shame and anxiety, or actually dying--was just so unappealing. Thinking and thinking about my problems only made them worse. I became tied up in the straight jacket of insane and irrational fear. (I wonder if that's what everyone who lives without Christ feels like all the time.) As I tried to reason my way out and control myself, everything that was wrong with me became worse, not better.

Finally, I thought, Well, I might as well let Him have control, even if I don't know if I can believe Him, if He can fix it, if He will accept me...because otherwise I'm DEFINITELY going to die.

He said, "Worship me, and let me fight your battle."

So I did.

And I still am. I'm holding on to the cross for dear...well....life. And He's been doing some inexplicable stuff. If you allow Him to love you in the very place of your brokenness, you'll find you'll start loving Him too, in a way you never dreamed.

"It's not the healthy people that need a physician. It's the sick."

You know who said that, right?

We're all sick. And though some of it may be our own fault, it's not our fault that we were born with a really crappy inheritance of sin and death. Good thing there is One who came to exchange that for a rich inheritance of life and love and joy.

The basic truth is this: Jesus Christ IS life. And if you just let Him in, He's not going to snap His fingers and create a perfect version of you, someone who never makes mistakes. But He will do some things in your spirit that will be just as miraculous as the way he created DNA and stars and butterflies. Because He's not interested in your sin. He's interested in your life.

Click here for a song that says everything I just said, except better.

Right Here

I'm going to get real with y'all, because apparently me getting real gets a lot of people free. So why not?

This will be less of a scripture exegesis and more of a pondering about God and Jesus and life. More poetic, I hope.

I almost wrote a poem instead, but I decided y'all wouldn't like that.

I'm going through some grief over multiple things, and a bit of shame that has tried to come upon me--some that had roots that were already there, and some that has newly crept around, trying to attach itself like a leach. I've not often experienced grief and shame, so these two emotions, even in the smallest increments, seem very heavy to me. One is healthy, and the other is not. If you read the Bible, I'll let you guess which one.

But that's not the poetic part.

Just to clarify, my life is beautiful, and I really have nothing to complain about. But sometimes things happen to us that aren't our fault because we live on earth. We experience grief. And then shame comes: "It was your fault," it lies. Or, "You ought to be better." You might find yourself U-turning five different times because you're too emotionally distraught to find the on-ramp for the interstate, and you're caught in traffic telling yourself, Just hold back. Just make it home before you start crying.

But then God might call you by name, in your car, and say to you, You can't run from my love.

{That's in Psalm 139, speaking of poetry...and the Father of poems.}

Sometimes, that may happen after a long day of teacher training. It may. And you may remember that He said the same thing to Adam and Eve in the Garden: "You can't hide from Me." He pursued them in their deep shame. And He pursues us. He's not afraid of the emotional mess.

I think I've told this story on my blog before, so if I have, forgive me. But I've been thinking over the past few days about a student I had a few years ago in my reading intervention tutoring program. Let's call her Precious. Her real name was something like that--a word that gave her an identity of beloved.

But when I met Precious, she seemed the opposite of her name. She was rowdy, hyperactive, impulsive, spastic. She didn't smell good. Her clothes were a mess. She was disobedient. She looked for every excuse to talk back. She wanted to run the show. None of my tutors liked working with her, and they seemed to get nowhere every time they tried to help her learn to read. She refused the bright future we were trying to give her. And on top of that, she was one of those kids who just really wasn't cute at all. (You know the kids I'm talking about.) It was hard to find something to like about Precious.

Finally, I started working with her because the other tutors couldn't manage. I expressed all of her issues to my boss--who was an extremely positive, undaunted woman in the face of my negativity. (I later appreciated this a lot.) She suggested that when I read with Precious, I put my arm around her in a gentle, motherly way. I thought, Yeah, like that's gonna work.

But it did. When I put my arm casually around her as she attempted to read a book, her whole body relaxed. She was able to focus. Later, I found out that reading right next to her on the floor was also effective. She felt the special sitting where other kids didn't get to sit, and she focused during the lesson in order to maintain the privilege. I did a lot of things differently with Precious than I did with the other kids, allowing her more choice (within my control) and special projects. With this kind of attention, she started to grow.

It wasn't an easy journey. She was still rambunctious. But she improved. And I hope that maybe she began to see the meaning of her name--because, working so closely with her, I finally did. I learned that she was funny and high-spirited. She could think and respond, when given the opportunity. She had just had no clue how to behave, and she was crying out for attention.

I later found out that Precious had been homeless. Her evenings were spent in shelters. That's why her clothes were unwashed and she never had a backpack. She had been sleeping with strangers around her. Probably nobody had ever sat with their arm around her that way, not even her mother. She thought like an orphan, like somebody abandoned and in danger.

And that explained a lot.

A few months later, I was praying--frustrated with myself and with my life, asking God why I couldn't seem to suddenly be different. He was silent--except that He kept bringing the image of Precious to my mind.

I got even more frustrated with that. So finally, I asked Him why He kept showing me her face.

He said, Because you are Precious.

We all are.

And when Jesus came to earth, He didn't come with marching bands and trumpet blasts and an army of angels. He came down from heaven, got right next to us, and put His arm around us.

Precious didn't understand that what we were trying to give her was good. Nobody had given her anything good or kind in her life. As a child, she didn't have the capacity to understand that she needed to learn to read because it would help her succeed, that we were trying to give her a future. All she saw was something she didn't want to do, given to her by people she didn't think she could trust. She was in survival mode, and she only saw the moment in front of her.

But I met her in that moment, and when I did, something beautiful happened.

If I, who was so unwilling to work with a disobedient child, could make a difference like that, how much more does Jesus know how to meet us in our pain?

And that is what I have learned about God most of all through the past month or so: that He is here. I mean that, in the midst of the grief, frustration, longing, pain, disobedience, and violent desperation of the human condition, He is right next to us. So close that He can smell our stench and hear our obscene words. And He still doesn't mind putting His arm around us.

When He does, shame melts away. All the ferocious, deafening lies of the enemy are silenced. Because somebody truly loves us, somebody who has compassion on our condition. It's not our fault. We aren't to blame for our homelessness. And even the things that we bring on ourselves with our sin...He isn't afraid to touch those, either, and make them clean.

What other God is like Him?

He taught a lot when He walked on the earth, but He did way more touching. Think about it. He healed so many people. He broke bread for them and ate with them. He wasn't offended.

He isn't surprised by the dirtiness of you or me. He is delighted with us. And that's not from a wall-art decal or a Precious Moments coloring book (no offense, Precious Moments). It's real. I'm understanding it beyond scripture.

His love is impossible to describe, and it might need a poem to be fully expressed. It's like He shattered my heart with light, but it felt wonderful somehow. It's like there were holes in me that I didn't know were there until He came and filled them. It's like being curled up like a baby in a womb, surrounded completely by Himself. Sorrow becomes strangely joyful, even as it still hurts. When you're there, you know that you know in your depths who you are--it's like you see everything that you were meant to be, but there are no words for it. You can't describe that, either. You'll just end up sounding like a crazy person if you try. When you feel it, you want to get out of your car at 10:45 at night in downtown and hug a homeless man under a bridge, because you want Him to know that God wants to touch him, too. (I didn't actually do that. I just wanted to.)

Like, I think I'm finally beginning to understand His compassion....for me. For all of us.

Right here, where He meets us, our grief becomes His grief, no matter how small or big it is. He doesn't ask us to do anything but lie there and receive from Him. And shame is laughable in that place.

It's hard to get there sometimes, because we feel swallowed in our own emotions and thoughts. Some people are afraid to go there, because they feel too ashamed. But if we will calm down for a moment and invite Him to enter our hearts and do what only He can do--no matter if we can explain it or not--we will discover that He is something we didn't quite expect, something that doesn't fit our box. In the midst of our pain and struggle and frustration, He isn't afraid of our emotions. Even the wind and waves know His name. He is someone we can trust, even if we can't explain Him.

Right here, you belong to Him, and belonging to the Creator is one of the deepest cravings of the human heart. Only He can satisfy it.

So let him.

In order to receive, we become like little children. Children like Precious. We are able only to receive. And when we do, when we open our fists and allow Him to give us what He wants to give us, we find belonging.

Even Jesus had difficulty describing this feeling, but He said it just like poetry when He prayed to the Father:

All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. (John 17:10)

You are not alone.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

{Ephesians 2:10}

The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup;

You support my lot.

The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;

Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.

{Psalm 16:5-6}

You are not alone.

I know that, sometimes, you think you are. And sometimes you may isolate yourself. But you are not the only one going through the thing you're experiencing. 

I haven't had too many encounters with spiritual warfare in my life. It's not something I commonly experience. I've heard other people's war stories, and I thought they were being dramatic, honestly. But now I understand.

This post is not meant to glorify the enemy, but rather to expose his schemes in order that he might be defeated. And to let YOU know that you are not alone in the battle. And to glorify the One who has already won the day--totally, utterly, and without dispute: Jesus Christ. And that's not an emotional conviction or a fairytale whim. It's a cold, hard fact.

I guess I should start by making a confession. If you're reading this, I can pretty much assume that you know me in person, because I don't think I get much traffic on this page other than friends. And if you know me, you know that I am the person that you call for detailed, specific prayer. I am known for my extravagant faith. And I have never struggled with some of the "big time" sins that people are shocked by (as if there are really "better" or "worse" ones). I've been what the world would consider a "good girl" my whole life. But I have battled with something that may surprise you: doubt.

Yes, me.

And we're not talking about the "Does God love me?" or "Is God really good?" kind of doubt. We're talking about the "Is God even real?" kind. 

It doesn't hit me that often, but there was a time in my life when it was very real and very oppressive. And a couple weeks ago, it happened to me again.

You see, the enemy likes to find our greatest strength and make it our greatest weakness. He likes to find God's dreams for our lives and turn them into his nightmares.

In the Garden, the first thing the enemy did was accuse God, calling Him a liar. He likes to accuse God of what he is himself. Then, as soon as Eve bit (literally), he accused her identity: "You're naked. Look what you've done!" So Adam and Eve responded with 1) shame, and 2) isolation, hiding from God.

That's how our world got into the mess we are in: someone listened to the devil accuse God and then themselves. And they believed him. Most of the world is stuck in this pattern, because most of the world doesn't know Jesus. And I have great compassion on them, because they are disconnected from the One who made them, the only One who can tell them who they are. 

But some of us know Jesus. And since the enemy can't destroy us, he tries to undermine our purpose. He tries to incapacitate us so much with lies that we are unable to connect with God or to go after what He has for us. 

But here's the good news: we aren't unaware of his tricks. And he's already lost. The only thing to do is recognize his voice. It's his only weapon. 

In my case, the devil first attacked my concept of God with those big doubts, just like he did with Adam and Eve. Honestly, a lot of my theology needed to go anyway. By that I mean me thinking I could figure God out based on some formula in my mind. But the devil doesn't mind that. He wanted me to just throw out the idea that God even exists.

I know that sounds crazy coming from me. But I am telling you so that you know you are not alone, if intellectual doubt is something you've encountered. 

And I want to encourage you: if you've been attacked in this area, it is likely that you, like me, have a tremendous gift of faith. When I was in college and struggling through mountains of doubts and hopeless depression, I would still pray, and I would still receive highly specific answers to prayer. It was crazy. So be encouraged. God is not afraid of your doubt. He knows we can't understand Him.

Good news: the devil couldn't bring me down with those doubts. Even though they seemed very real, stressful, and terrifying, I fought through them because I'm just plain, well, stubborn. It's another one of the wonderful qualities He gave me that creates in me such strong faith. 

So he tried something else. 

I know that I know that I know what my purpose is on earth, and I have big dreams about it. Guess who else knows my purpose? .....Right. So he began to feed me every deep, dark fear I have associated with the areas connected with my dreams, trying to convince me that my ministry will explode in my face. It was all-out war, no holds barred. Every worst case scenario came to my mind, and with every one, the devil reminded me: You are not in control. You have no ability to direct your future. Your whole life will be ruined, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You see, he will find your biggest dream. When he finds that, he'll infuse it with fear and turn it into your worst nightmare. Then, he'll find a half-truth that makes his lie just believable enough for you to swallow it.  

Then, once you've bitten and swallowed, he'll come right behind and slam you with hopelessness: This is how it is, this is how it's always going to be, and you're never going to get out. Give up.

The devil has no new tricks. If he can get us to incapacitate ourselves with fear, he doesn't have to use any other strategies. He doesn't have to oppose us in any other way, because we'll have done ourselves in. He's right: we don't have as much control over our futures as we tend to think. There is One who does, and the enemy would love for us to distrust Him. If we do, we will never even attempt to go after God's purposes for us, because we'll believe lies about Him and about ourselves.

This is not mental illness or anxiety or depression. I've never suffered from any of those. Those are legit issues that people have, and they should be addressed medically. But this was something else. This was an attack of the enemy. He knows I'm getting close to my purpose, to the fulfillment of my dreams. He can't stand the thought. So he started throwing every fear he could think of in my face to see if he could take me down.

But--NOT THIS GIRL. Keep reading the story.

The fears that have come over me the past few weeks are ridiculous. They are nightmares, the opposite of anything God would have for me. They indirectly accuse God: He has nothing good for you. He is going to leave you and allow your dreams to be destroyed. The fear and the hopelessness were literally sickening--like, my body actually felt the stress. My mind would receive a thought, then think and think and think about it until it was all I could think about. I would spin around the circle of thoughts, trying to reason my way out, trying to find hope, and just ending back up where I started.

It was terrible. It was torture. I now have compassion on those who have suffered with this all their lives. 

When you look at them objectively, the lies that were coming to me actually seem pretty ridiculous. But there was just enough half-truth in there to make them seem very, very real--like everything about my future was definite, and none of it was good. And I believed that they were my own ideas. 

But they weren't. And they definitely weren't God's. I didn't know that, though, until I finally heard a lie that was so ludicrous that I said, "Wait a second....." 

It was like that point in a movie when the villain, in order to get the hero to join forces with him, is pretending to be something he's not, and the hero is beginning to buy it....until the villain slips and says something that reveals his true hand.

And my response was, "Oh. No. You. DIDN'T!"

It was then that I realized what frequency I had been listening to.

The Lord doesn't give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind (1:7). I used to say that verse over and over as a kid. Fear is a spirit. And it's not God's spirit. He would never give you that. 

But somebody else would.

So if you're experiencing paralyzing fear and incapacitating hopelessness, know that those things are coming from a source that not only isn't God, but that has already been defeated. I know it seems very, very real in this moment. It looks like the truth. But it's not.

The very area where you're attacked, where you feel weakest, is probably your greatest strength and holds the key to your purpose.

If you're struggling with sexual thoughts, you probably have a powerful marriage ministry and a deep capacity for relational intimacy and acceptance. If you are struggling with anxiety, you probably have a ministry of faith and peace. If you have experienced thoughts of unforgiveness and bitterness towards others, you are probably meant to be a powerful example of the ministry of reconciliation. If you are battling feelings of unworthiness to be loved, you probably have the greatest servant-love ministry the world has ever seen. Think about it. Think about where you've sinned and fallen short the most, where you've felt the most insecurity. Somebody has been lying to you. He can get you to sin in these areas because he's already fed you a lie in your mind. Count it all joy to be persecuted by the enemy, because it just confirms your purpose.

Are you getting free just reading this? I hope so. That was my intention.

I heard a pastor last weekend give a great sermon on being a soldier and keeping your eyes forward, on Jesus. He told a story about an owl he saw flying by his car. The owl was just cruising, and a mockingbird came up and started chirping and squawking and generally annoying the owl. When the owl landed, the mockingbird just kept up relentlessly, buzzing all around the owl's head--but the owl just stared straight ahead.

The pastor said that the Lord told him, "See the wisdom of the owl."

An owl knows that a mockingbird is absolutely no threat to him. He isn't even worth the trouble of turning his head.

Our enemy tries to parade himself as something scary--prowling about "like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour" (1 Peter 5:8)...In other words, he has no bite, but he's looking to see who will believe in his roar. And his major battlefield with Christians is our minds. 

But once you know whom you're dealing with, the lies are actually kind of funny. Now, when he comes to me with something ridiculous, I declare the opposite out loud (just to annoy him back). And when he accuses me, I get to laugh and say, "I know you are, but what am I?" Then just keep moving. I know who I am. I know where I'm going. And I'm not going to give in to his lies that would keep me from that purpose. I am not going to engage, listen, and act upon his negativity. 

I refuse to submit to the devil's dreams for my life. He doesn't have a say. He doesn't get to plan my future. That privilege belongs only to my Father, who is good, and whose plans for me are good. The best, in fact. 

I'm not saying I'll never hear those lies again--on the contrary, I'm sure the enemy will try over and over to get me to bite them. I'm sure he has a long, relentless, and annoying plan to pester me, just like a mockingbird. But I am no longer afraid of his schemes. I am not afraid of what he wants to do to me. I belong to Jesus. And NOTHING can separate me from His love, no matter what happens (Romans 8:31).

If you're struggling, don't be ashamed. God is not afraid of your struggles. And He's right there with you. And you're definitely not alone as far as humanity is concerned--Adam and Eve fell for the tricks, and they walked with God every single day in the Garden. And I'm not belittling your struggle. I know--I KNOW--it is hard. I know the lies seem real, especially if you've heard them all your life. The weight of them feels crushing. 

But we have ALL been there. One thing I've learned through this process is that other believers will have your back. When I was unable to fight for myself, others came up next to me and swung their weapons at the enemy--and their prayers are powerful. If you're going through spiritual warfare, the last thing you should do is isolate yourself. Find believers you can trust and get them to fight with you. We are much stronger together. 

You see, my life is not a product of the devil's worst nightmare. In fact, I am his worst nightmare. And so are you. 

In the words of a great modern-day sage: "You can run and tell THAT, homeboy!"

Rocks

This is the cliff I dove from in Belize about a year ago. That spot on the left side, just behind that clump of greenery, is where I pushed off.

To get to the top, you have to slip and slide your way up through a whole bunch of underbrush, where tropical creatures are lurking, and sometimes your only handhold is some flimsy tree root. It's not exactly the easiest climb.

Then, when you get all the way up there, you're stuck on this little tiny ledge of slippery rock. Not my idea of the greatest launching pad. You could slip, and the whole thing's a bust.

But what made me really hesitate is the rock you can see in the left of the picture. From that angle, it doesn't look that big. But from up there on the tiny slippery ledge, you can see just how far it is jutting out beneath you into your fall zone. And let me tell you, folks: it was far.

It's not like there's a hospital anywhere near this place. There are no ambulances or medical professionals. And if you actually do get to a hospital (which would take a few hours), it wouldn't be an American hospital. I thought to myself, "If I hit that rock, I'm gonna die. Or at least be paralyzed." Worst case scenario had a field day in my head.

I sat there thinking about that rock and calculating the risk for a long time.

It's important to calculate risk. But I calculated for a little too long, and the ledge got really uncomfortable. A few other people went ahead of me (which wasn't easy, since they had to squeeze past me on the ledge). I watched them, telling myself I was figuring out the best way to jump. As I sat there, some weirdly tropical bug bit or stung me on my, um, upper thigh. It hurt really bad. I was in a pretty precarious spot already, and my feet were slipping in mud. There were plants tickling me. The thought of going back down the way I came was slightly more repulsive than jumping. It was nearly impossible to climb up; going down again was unthinkable.

This blog post is going to be super ambiguously metaphorical, but stick with me.

We all have our rocks.

I'm not talking about simple risks. I'm talking about big ones. I'm not talking about steps of faith--overcoming those little fears and then telling your Bible study about it next week. I'm talking about leaps of faith. The kind people write books about. The kind that change the course of your life.

We all have areas where we've experienced defeat over and over again. We all have fears that are so deeply ingrained, sins that have been our companions for so long, that we don't remember being without them. These are things that YOU have to decide to confront, or they will sit there forever, jutting out into your fall zone. Most of the time we ignore them, walking in denial, until we're forced to look them in the eye. But I bet even now you're thinking of one or two.

What's your rock?

Because God is gracious, there usually comes a time in your life when He offers you something that may be a big blessing, if you can just jump over a rock.

I've got a rock. And when I look at the rock, my old friends come out to play. These friends have names like Distrust. Control. Impatience. Pride. And their mama is Fear herself. They're a great big ugly family that I think we've all met. And when it comes to making a decision about something that really is a genuine risk to your heart, they love to come bring their family reunion to the bottom of the cliff and party on your rock.

Uncle Negativity likes to fire up the grill and start cooking up every worst case scenario in the book. These nightmares come straight out of half-truths, but they are lies from somewhere outside of reality. They're the scare tactics of the enemy.

Suddenly the rock starts looking a lot bigger than it actually is. Something that was a regular, normal risk becomes an unfathomable mountain. Your life, your purpose, your identity, your future are all at stake. Cue life crisis. The family of lies usually invites their cousins Anger and Despondency. And Hopelessness is always close at hand, ready to dance with them.

Don't act like you've never been there. And if you haven't--as I've recently discovered--don't worry: you're well on your way.

I have finally encountered a situation that is sensitive in pretty much every place it can be sensitive and asks a big risk from my heart. It's one of those life-course-changing moments. I had thought I was a fearless person. I've moved from state to state knowing nobody, started challenging jobs, and taken tons of other risks that most people wouldn't dream of. They were a piece of cake, because I love adventure... that is, when I am in control of the adventure.

Tonight I heard a pastor say, "Your comfort zone is the enemy of your purpose."

Control is my comfort zone. And God is asking me for that idol, and its whole family along with it. See, I don't know much, but I do know now that God's way to your purpose usually isn't the way you would have chosen. But it is always a better way, a way that destroys strongholds before you even get there. And I can't live out my purpose if I'm living in my comfort zone, kicking it with control.

Control is an illusion anyway. As a middle-class, first-world American, I think I have control of a lot of things. But the fact is that I cannot control other people. Nor can I control God.

In fact, I can only somewhat control my own decisions, because, although I can take agency of my life, there are still many factors outside of my control. Those factors go to a higher entity. And so I can surrender my life to fear, or to God. That's the choice we all face.

Fear is great at control. It has kept most of the world in line with the enemy's plans for centuries. And it has convinced me that if I always expect the worst case scenario, I'll never be disappointed.

But if you climb up the cliff with God, thinking you're in for a good time, He's going to ask you for your idols. And not the baby ones. The big ones, rooted so deep it's going to feel like you're dying when He takes them out.

Because, well, you will be dying. Jesus said "take up your cross." He could be deeply metaphorical too. 

Before the pastor talked about the comfort zone thing, a different pastor got up and said (paraphrased),  “I believe tonight God is asking for you to give up an area of control to him that you've been holding on to for a long time because you don't want to change. He says he can do great things if you'll just trust him in this area.”

I was like, "Dude, did you read my diary? Did you eavesdrop on my conversations with God?"

God is gracious, because I asked Him to change me, and He won't let me out of it. He takes my prayers more seriously than I do. He has arranged matters so that I am forced to either change or die on the cliff. There's no turning back and going the way I came. I don't understand the full depth of this yet. It's very fresh. But I do know He is doing something big in a heart that has been the same way as long as I can remember. I feel like, until now, I've been playing a Christian game. Now we're in the real deal. I never thought I would ever have to confront my rock.

Maybe you don't either.

Don't get me wrong: it's important to look at a matter practically and evaluate risks. Unless God tells you to, don't do something that, by all evaluations, is just plain stupid. (Although He has been known to do that. Noah spent years building an ark during a drought, you know.) But at the end of the day, when you're facing a decision, you can make your best guess as to how far you need to jump and just go for it....or you can sit on the ledge, hanging on to a tree root, and let the killer ants bite your butt for the rest of your life. 

In the end, I jumped. My friends said my head was inches from the rock. Inches. I could have been dead. But Jesus knew just how far I needed to jump. And the ledge wasn't as slippery as I thought. And the fall was fun. And the impact was wonderful, not scary, like I thought it would be. It was a new experience. It was a blessing.

I'm looking now, metaphorically, into a  jump that is very uncertain. There could be a big blessing in it, one that could change my future radically. And I haven't made a decision yet, because it demands some time and a whole lot of waiting before the risk factor becomes a little more clear (which my former friend Impatience doesn't enjoy). I'm studying the jump. A good Father knows that a girl like me needs a little time to observe, think, and evaluate, like I did on the real cliff. 

But I know that, regardless of what happens, I have to choose to deal with Fear and her children Control, Distrust, and Pride. (Impatience is divorcing me by force at this point. There's no way around it. God knows I wouldn't break up with it otherwise.) 

Yes, the jump could kill me; but, if I don't deal with these idols, it doesn't matter if I jump or not: either way, I will SURELY die.

God is good, people. He'll let you stay in your comfort zone if you want. But big blessings require big risks. And you will eventually have to encounter your rock. It's coming. It's up to you to decide how you will deal with it. But don't let the enemy's imagination pollute your ability to accurately evaluate the risk. And, if the water looks fine and there's an adventure to be had...don't let the rock keep you from jumping. 

Supernova

This school year has been a year of great freedom and contentment for me in general, especially over the past few months. I'm finally rolling with the freedom from insecurity that Jesus died to give me, and I've been in a place of awesome closeness with God, and it's all because of His mercy and grace.

But the Christian journey is nomadic, and we don't stay in one place for long. Nobody wants to camp in the same spot forever. No matter how nice and lovely it is there, you're eventually going to run out of food. So a week or two ago, I felt kind of a snapping of fingers in the spirit, and the Lord saying, "Ok, now!"

It was an invitation to move on and become more mature in my faith. But I didn't know how...so of course, proactive A-student that I (think I) am, I asked. I was like, "Do you want me to fast and spend like all night in my prayer closet, Jesus?" <I might be a little intense.> But His answer surprised me. Long story short, God rocked my face off with Isaiah 58.

I had been praying for these things: that I would be able to help rebuild the ruins of people's hearts, that the light of Jesus would go before me and blind people wherever I walked, that I would restore people's relationship with the Father through the ministry of reconciliation, that I would become a strong garden rooted in the love of God where other people could come and make a home.  I begged, "Jesus, just let me be a supernova of your light!" <Like I said--intense. Go big or go home.>

I normally don't put this long of a scripture in my blog, but the whole thing is good. I know it's about Israel and has historical significance, but the same God who wrote it writes on my heart under the New Covenant, so the same principles apply. Here's the CAV (Christi Annotated Version):

Cry loudly, do not hold back; 
Raise your voice like a trumpet,
And declare to My people their transgression
And to the house of Jacob their sins.
Yet they seek Me day by day and delight to know my ways, (Um, holla....exactly what I was doing....)
As a nation that has done righteousness
And has not forsaken the ordinance of their God. (Wait....)
They ask Me for just decisions,
They delight in the nearness of God. (Um....)
"Why have we fasted and You do not see?
Why have we humbled ourselves and You do not notice?"
Behold, on the day of your fast you find your desire (Eek!),
And drive hard all your workers. (Basically, you are irresponsible with relationships...that hits home...)
Behold, you fast for contention and strife and to strike with a wicked fist. (Ouch.)
You do not fast like you do today to make your voice heard on high.
Is it a fast like this which I choose, a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it for bowing one's head like a reed
And for spreading out sackcloth and ashes as a bed? (Ok, ok...I won't go spend all night in my prayer closet)
Will you call this a fast, even an acceptable day to the Lord? (I think that might be rhetorical. Just maybe.)
(Now pay careful attention:)
Is this not the fast which I choose,
To loosen the bonds of wickedness,
To undo the bands of the yoke,
And to let the oppressed go free
And break every yoke?
Is it not to divide your bread with the hungry
And to bring the homeless poor into the house; (That means YOUR house)
When you see the naked, to cover him;
And not to hide yourself from your own flesh? (I've avoided a few relatives in my time.)
(And if you do these things, here's the promise:)
Then your light will break out like the dawn, (supernova, anyone?) and your recovery will speedily spring forth;
And your righteousness will go before you; (like, maybe what I was asking for?)
The glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
You will cry, and He will say, "Here I am."
If you remove the yoke from your midst,
The pointing of the finger (ouch) and speaking wickedness (ouch ouch....)
And if you give yourself to the hungry (not give them food...give them YOURSELF)
And satisfy the desire of the afflicted (to be set free and loved),
Then your light will rise in darkness (sound familiar?)
And your gloom will become like midday.
And the Lord will continually guide you,
And satisfy your desire in scorched places (hold up, Holy Spirit...I don't want to go there...or would I rather just camp in the same place all my life?),
And give strength to your bones;
And you will be like a watered garden (garden, what??...come on, somebody),
And like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.
Those from among you will rebuild the ancient ruins (say WHAT?!?);
You will raise up the age-old foundations;
And you will be called the repairer of the breach (ministry of reconciliation, anyone?),
The restorer of the streets in which to dwell.
If because of the sabbath, you turn your foot
From doing your own pleasure on My holy day (I may or may not use Sunday as a personal day for me....)
And call the sabbath a delight, the holy day of the Lord honorable,
And honor it, desisting from your own ways, (Me? I would never do everything my own way...right?...)
And speaking your own word (ouch again....if you know me, you know how much I like to talk....and maybe share my own opinions....),
Then you will delight in the Lord,
And I will make you ride on the heights of the earth (that sounds like fun, honestly);
And I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father,
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken. (He spoke the whole world into being, so when He opens His mouth, probably we should listen.)

As per usual, the Lord used His own word to answer the exact questions I was asking. #mindblown

He was like, "You want intense? You want more of Me? Go and find me where I am. I'm not in your prayer closet, where you pray for your own pleasure. I'm next to that homeless guy on the street. I'm right beside a small child that needs affirmation and something to eat. You want to be near me? Go be near them."

Ouch.

I ask for growth... and then He sends it my way in the form of people, and I'm like, "Uh, no, this is not what I asked for." And He's like, "Uh, yes it is." Frankly, I would usually rather go fast or spend a day in my prayer closet. But it's not about how "intense" you get for God. The true test is whether you will lay aside your own desires and serve Him by serving other people, not out of religion, but because you honestly love Him and want to obey Him.

I read this and then was even more distressed because I don't know how to feed the hungry or set people free or break every yoke. I think He means these things literally, but I don't even know where to begin.

So, again, I asked. He said: "Just do it every day."

I am more than willing to jump on God's bandwagon for the big dreams of my life--all kinds of crazy ministries I imagine. But that's not what Jesus did. He sold out for God, of course, but the way He did it was day by day, person by person--small decision by small decision.

See, I think--if I want to grow spiritually and get more of Him--God is asking me to do is put aside all of these crazy dreams I have and just sacrifice my flesh every day, paying attention to what He is asking me to do. I can choose to stop talking and "pointing the finger" at someone else, and say positive things instead. I can choose to stop for one of my students who is having a rough day and listen to him or her. I can choose to stop what I am doing and help a friend, or even a stranger. There may be two or three small things, three or four small ways I pay attention to someone or do something for someone when I would rather do something else.

But if I listen to Him and do it, that's the kingdom of God, both inside of me and out. Smallest things can give the biggest growth, because they are daily, repeated statements of your commitment to the Lord. And, before I know it, the big things will happen. Because if He can trust me to listen in the small things, He can trust me with the big things.

I don't think this is going to be easy. You see, I was praying to be a supernova of God's love, basically consuming everything in my path with the radical presence of transformative light (intense again....sorry). But then Holy Spirit whispered to gently remind me that, when a star becomes a supernova, it has to die. So the brilliant light of my desires dying will bring forth the magnificence of His desires coming alive.

And that's what I want. (However much I may whine about it.)

I hope this encourages you. Go love on just one person today. You will fill the heart of your Father with joy.

Come Forth

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience. Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

--Ephesians 2:1-7

Let's talk about dead people.

A few years ago, I saw this movie called Warm Bodies. It was really stupid, but at the same time, it was fascinating. The whole storyline is about this zombie who learns to love this girl, and then he becomes human again because he responds to her love. At the end, he falls into this pool of water and emerges completely renewed, as if he had never died. As I watched it, I was like, "Somebody who wrote this movie read the Bible." I mean, the reference to baptism and new life was blatant. So even though the movie was really stupid, I appreciated it because of the obvious spiritual symbolism. I'd probably watch it again, except no one will watch it with me because it was so stupid.

The above passage from Ephesians says that you were dead. Paul doesn't mean that your flesh was dead. He means that your spirit was a zombie before you met Christ, and your response to Him made you alive again. 

Think about a dead person....like, laying in their coffin. I know it's morbid, but go with it. If a person is dead, can they really think to themselves, "I'd really like to be alive again"? Can they say, "Hey, Jesus, come resurrect me!"?

No. They're dead. They can't think or say anything.

Lazarus was brain dead. He didn't have the ability to think "I wish Jesus were here right now so He could raise me from the dead." He had no part in the choice Jesus made to resurrect him. He was a corpse. All he did was lie there until his flesh, heart, lungs, brain responded to Jesus' loving command to "come forth."

Are you beginning to draw some parallels here?

YOU were dead. YOU were a corpse. YOU were senseless of anything other than your flesh desires and your worldly mindsets. And then Jesus came and said "(Insert your name), come forth." 

My mom likes to say that Jesus had to use Lazarus's name--"Lazarus, come forth!"--because, if He didn't, everything that was dead for miles around would have started coming back to life and walking the earth. It's interesting when you think about it. He said, "I am the resurrection and the life" (John 11:25). His very words bring everything to life, because everything was created through Him (Colossians 1:16). Jesus IS the resurrection. He IS the definition of "life." When He speaks, even dead things respond. Zombies can't stay zombies in His presence. 

HE IS LIFE. You don't even know what life is until you meet Him.

I'm not trying to argue predestination or anything here--heavens no!--like we have no choice in the matter. I'm merely stating that, yes, you chose to respond--but you never knew love or what you should even be responding to until He showed you.

So let me ask you this: If you had no part in your resurrection, what makes you think you can take over now that you're alive? 

Read the passage of scripture above once again. Who is doing the action? It's all God. We are the direct object of God's mercy. HE raised us up, HE made us alive, HE seated us with Jesus, so that HE 

could show us the riches of our inheritance in Christ. It doesn't say, "He raised us from the dead so that we could then start earning our salvation." In fact, it says the opposite. 

Later, this chapter says, "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them" (2:10). 

I promise that if you quit working to earn His favor and just allow Him to speak life over you, walking closely with the Holy Spirit--submitting all your ideas and desires to His will--He will do a greater work in you than you could ever do in yourself. You will find yourself so much more righteous, so much more holy, so much more godly than you ever thought possible. He knows much better than you what you ought to look like.

Jesus gave you life, and He is more than capable of leading it, too.