Category Archives: real life

being.

The sun shines through the windows and I’m all snuggled down, bottom-deep in my favorite $40 resale store comfy chair. The littles are napping, the air conditioner kicks on, and the day pauses. Steam rises from my vanilla coffee on the table next to me and I take a deep breath.

What do you have to say to me, God?

And I sit. And I wait.

And sometimes, answers come like puzzle pieces, filling in the gaps, making it all make sense.

Other times, there are no answers, no questions to be answered. There is just me be-ing.

It struck me this afternoon that maybe that is the point, after all, isn’t it? To be.

One of my very favorite, close to my heart verses is Acts 17:28.

For in Him, we live and move, and have our being.

If that verse is true, then He is how I’m typing these words. He is how I take the next breath. And the next. And the one after that.

He is the life-sustainer.

If I live and move in Him, if my being is in Him without me doing anything, then He is speaking, whispering, conversing with me all the live-long day.

He speaks through the littles, through the hubby, through creation, through sunshine.

And so it becomes not so much that I have to make it all quiet to hear Him, but that He is in me and unmovable and teh I AM regardless of external noise. Or lack thereof.

He is the unshakable core, the Rock that anchors me down deep into His love-ocean. And if I’m there, I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything to invite Him into what I’m doing.

Oh no. He is so much bigger than that.

I’m already a part of what He is doing, because I live and move in Him. Because He says that I do. That you do. Already.

As Rob Bell says, it all becomes “holy ground” then, doesn’t it? Changing the 8th dirty diaper before lunchtime – holy ground. Putting the 3 year old in time out again – redemptive work. Feeding, folding, sweeping, nursing, answering, loving. If He holds life together and me in it, then we – me joined into the Trinity – do all of these things together, as one.

And He doesn’t want just a little sliver of “quiet time” in the mornings. No, no. He invites us to see Him in all things, as the one holding every detail together. All day, in everything.

Remember that you are being held, every moment of every day.

In Him, you live and move and have your being.

 

a chair around the campfire

When I was in school, I used to hate Sundays. From 1st grade through college graduation, Sundays were a four-letter word.

Sundays were the last day of a weekend free from the expectations and rules and only-make-A’s of the school week. Sundays were the Day of Dread, the day where I could only over-think what the coming week was bringing. I felt incapable of actually enjoying the day, for fear I would forget something important in the days to come.

School was a rigorous Olympic course and I was the gold medalist. I made sure I was, every time.

And yet. My world was dark, conflicted, a roller coaster of emotion, shame, grit my teeth and do it. I was boxed in by my own impossible standards and self-expectation. Anxiety was the name of my game and I won every time. Perfectionism was my trusty sidekick, who never failed to remind me I couldn’t ever screw up, or else.

Life was not anticipated with joy, excitement, welcome. It was an impossible checklist I crazily tried to complete.

So God, in his unending, never failing love, let me choose my own way and trudge deeper and deeper down that perfectionistic road. Even through the eating disorder it led to. {That story is coming.}

But here’s where it gets good. I had to experience death to have life.

I had to know, without a doubt, that there is no life down that road. I had to die to that independence, that self-choice that buried me in lies and loneliness and fear. And there, when all the consequences of my independence from Love lay broken at my feet, Love took my hand. Love showed me life.

This Love that I’ve come to know, this God who is Love, is the perfection I sought all those years. He is the perfect union of myself hidden in Jesus, hidden in Him. He is the welcome-to-life I’m after. His are the friendly eyes I seek as I walk into new and scary. He is the warm hand grasping mine and letting me know He knows me, and He’s been waiting for me to look up from my treadmill into His peace-eyes, and that He’s all-in with me.

It’s like this: Love pitches a tent, invites me into the campfire circle, and pulls over a cozy camp chair. Beckons me to sit and stay and tell my story. And to listen, listen deep to the Trinity’s voice around the campfire, encouraging me, loving me, filling up my broken ways.

you are more

She looks at me, her eyes filling up while her body wastes away from intentionally not feeding it, and she whispers, “This is me. This is just who I am now.”

I feel my heart crack in half.

No.

The new mama talks loudly, over the crying newborn, whispers, “I can’t do this. I’m not a good mother.”

No. No, no, no.

Beat up from years of betrayal, she holds worry, anxiety, mistrust heavy in her grip. She whispers, “I’m not enough. I will never be enough.”

No, no, no.

You are so much more.

You are more than an eating disorder. You are more than the food you eat. You are more than your crazy thoughts.

You are more than your clothes, more than your weight, more than your perfectly shaded eyeshadow.

You are more than your manipulating behavior, more than the angry words you say, more than your mommy-yells.

You, sitting right there, looking at your computer screen. You are so much more than all these things.

You are more than the nice girl, more than the fat girl, more than the skinny girl. More than the smart one, the crazy one, the nerdy one.

You are more than a good mom, more than a homeschooler, more than a house-cleaner and diaper-changer.

You are more than your company title, more than the car you drive, more than your earthly authority.

You are more than your labels, your job, the compliments thrown your way.

You are more than the way you cope, survive, exist. You are more than the masks you wear.

You are more than what you think you’re identity is.

You are more than the sum of your parts.

You are hidden with Christ in God. {Colossions 3:3}

You are renewed, made new, a new creation. {2 Corinthians 5:17}

You are united with Him, one with Him. {Romans 6:5}

And so now, a choice. You can choose to keep living on the island of independence from God where you’ve dug your flag deep down into the sand of self-sufficiency and work-hard and do-good.

Or you can believe who you really are.

You are joined with the Spirit.

You work from within Him.

You are participating in His present, real, truer than true reality.

Your position as His in unchangeable, unmovable.

You can choose to join in with whatever the Trinity is doing right this minute.

He is inviting you, pursuing you, love-whispering in your ear, telling you to jump in, that the water’s warm where He is.

You are His. You are loved. You are wanted. Now believe it. You are so much more than the sum of your parts.

the great wind of 2013 and a lesson on messiness

Y’all. The wind yesterday. Dear heavens.

The Weather Channel app on my phone had a “wind advisory” and called for gusts up to 50 miles per hour. But we live on top of a hill in a tall house and I’m pretty sure we got gusts up to 856 miles per hour.

Our siding came off. Seriously. A business a few miles down the road had their entire metal roof blown off. I tell you these facts because I’m slightly prone to exaggeration (!) but I need you to know I am not exaggerating about the tornadic activity of yesterday. Except for maybe the wind gusts. I might have been closer to 782 miles per hour.

Anyway.

The point is that our front and back yard is a mess. Trash cans blown over. Kids’ outside toys strewn about like we had 50 toddlers over to play. Deer feeder completely fallen over.

And you know what? The mess bothers me. Not like in a “oh man, that’s inconvenient and kind of a pain to clean up”, but like a “glance out the window and start to perspire while heart rate goes up” kind of bother. Which, obviously, was a red flag. So I started talking to myself. Which is actually quite a useful skill. At least, that’s what I tell myself. What the heck is wrong with me? It’s just some stuff dumped over. Just some toys to pick up. No big, right? I mean, there are much bigger fish to fry in the scope of world problems.

And yet. It really, really bothers me. I like my house to be picked up. Clean, clutter-free, neat. When the things I look at every day, all day, are visually clutter-free, I feel better. I think that can be a good thing. But in this instance, it was making me anxious and uneasy.

And then, through the mess and through my silly reaction, God spoke gently. Over the anxious ball in the pit of my stomach, He told me to relax. Which He tells me a lot, actually. Especially about motherhood. But then He reminded me that His peace and His joy and His at-ease-ness doesn’t depend on circumstances. At all. Not even a little bit.

Peace while staring at my siding-less porch. Joy while the yard waits to get cleaned up. Normal heart rate and no sweating as I go retrieve the chicken feeder from the far front yard when it should be in the very back yard.

I don’t feel like relaxing when my yard looks like a tornado hit it. I don’t really want to let go of everything-in-its-place syndrome. So I choose past the feeling.

Because He is in the clutter. He is in the I-can’t-keep-it-all-together because He is the One who holds everything together. Even the messes. Or, more specifically, He holds me together even in the messes. In Him, I am not undone.

So thanks, Wind-Causer God, for the lessons in the wind-blown mess.

 

salvation {starting complete}

Salvation. It’s a great “Christian-ese” word. I bet we all hear it in church at least 7 times every Sunday. And twice on Wednesdays. But lately, God has really been rocking my world with what this salvation thing really is.

For a long time, I thought salvation was all of the following: that Jesus died on the cross for my sin and if I believed in Him then I wouldn’t go to hell when I died. But good luck living the rest of your life until then. Oh, and by the way, you have to “act saved” and read your Bible every day and do this and do that to “work out your salvation”. Because we’re still “sinners saved by grace” and will be forever.

But.

He says, “It is finished” on the cross. {John 19:30}

He says, “If anyone is in Christ, He is a new creature.” { 2 Cor. 5:17}

He says His “divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness”. {2 Peter 1:3}

“People ask me what the difference is between Christianity and every other religion in the world. You want to know what it is? We start complete.” {Steve Pettit}

 

We start complete. On the Cross, all of our sin {past, present, future} was taken care of. Dealt with. Finished.

As believers, we already are new creations. We already are complete in Christ. We already are.

Am I saying that we are no longer sinners? Yes, I am. The Cross accomplished nothing if it didn’t make us new creatures. That was the point. To become joined with God in us. We are no longer man separated from God but man joined in a holy union – a new kind of creature. Now if that doesn’t make you step back and gasp and maybe let out a “what?what??”, I don’t know what will.

Just like Paul says in all his letters over and over and over again, we are saints. We are complete.

Now, I am not belittling sin. The power of sin is active and working and very real in our daily lives. But that’s not who we are. It may feel like you are a sinner. It may feel like you aren’t complete. It may feel like you don’t have what you need. But that’s not who you are. Feelings are pretty little liars much of the time, are they not? {But that’s a whole other post ;) } In a believer, sin is not at home. It is not our identity. Your sin IS NOT who you are.

How much would change about our lives if we really believed Him? If we really believe what He says about us? If we really believe that we are who He says we are? That we are saints, not sinners?

on living in reality

I have a bad habit. It’s called jumping into the future and living there. The problem is, “future” is not reality. It is fantasy land with no truth in it whatsoever. I might as well be envisioning unicorns and fairies and the Hogwarts School.

And yet. Here we are again, on the eve of a busy day. And my mind starts going and spinning and whirring and before I know it I’ve been transported by magic time machine to tomorrow. Even though I’m still in today.

And there in the fantasy tomorrow that lives in my head, there are problems and checklists and tasks that sink heavy into my heart. I am busy, I rush around, I zoom from task to task. In my head, I am bogged down by the uncertainties and potential obstacles of the day. But that’s just it. It’s just potential and it’s just in my head. It’s not real.

And only crazy people want to live in non-reality, right? ;)

I have to remind myself {sometimes over and over again} to come back to the present. Live in the reality that is right now. Not tomorrow morning or afternoon or whatever. Right now.

Right now is where life is happening.

Right now is where He says “I am”.

Right now is when I have everything I need for life and godliness. {2 Peter 1:3}

Right now is when He meets me, exactly where I am, with everything He is.

So, self, quit time-machining me into the imaginary future, thankyouverymuch. I’d rather live here in reality.

the holy no :: a manifesto

Confession: I don’t really know what a manifesto is. I assume it is something you feel very strongly about, kind of like a creed or a motto or a way of living life. In any case, that’s what I mean. Plus, I really like this title that the Holy Spirit plopped into my head. End of confession. :)

Yes.

I never knew that was a four-letter word. For all of my life, I’ve been a yes-person. Will you be a volunteer counselor for the junior high youth trip? Yes. Can you lead this Bible study? Sure. Can you watch my kid three nights a week? Yep. Will you be a part of our organization? You bet. Will you be on the leadership team? Yes, ma’am. You should come to our Bible study. Sure thing. Want to come to our play date? Of course.

You see, I’m a recovering people-pleaser. And people-pleasing is all about saying yes. To everything. Without thought to what I want or need or feel. Without taking into account how it will affect my life or my family. And, hello, without asking if this is where the Spirit is leading me.

Well, no more. I’m saying no.

In this month of New Year’s resolutions and goals littering every single conversation, I’m taking a stand against them. I’m not saying goals are bad or starting new things isn’t a good idea. I’m saying that for me, right now, the Spirit is calling me to die to my people-pleasing flesh by saying no.

This no isn’t just any no. It’s a holy no. Because the power of the Spirit is behind it. {He is the author and perfecter of our faith, after all.} When I say no to something, I do so in the wisdom and life and freedom of God. This no is my breath of fresh air. And it’s a holy no because He’s the only way I’ll be able to do this. My little people-pleasing self doesn’t want to “let people down” or “disappoint anyone”. But I’m not responsible for any of that. My responsibility is to God Himself, the Holy Spirit within me.

And so. The manifesto of the holy no.

I will listen to the Spirit first, before answering.

I will get comfortable with saying no, without having to explain or make excuses or otherwise prattle on and on to some poor someone.

I will remember that I’m defined by who I am and Whose I am, not by what I do or don’t do.

I will choose less “good” things and end up with the best things.

Saying no more often means I can say yes to spontaneity. It means there is real, spacey room in my schedule for having a lonely couple over for dinner or watching someone else’s kids so they can go to the store in peace or – dare I say it – reading a good book. Saying no means I can get excited about the white space on my calendar and look forward to how the Spirit will fill it.

I’m excited about saying no more often. In the words of Steve Martin as George Banks, I’m removing the superfluous buns.

And just because this kind of sums it all up for you…

happy trusting Sunday

source

May you truly trust Him today. With your heart, with His heart. May you remember, over and over again, that His love is unfailing. You cannot outdo it. You cannot outrun it. It never fails. Period.

Any may you find the utmost joy in your salvation, remembering that He rescues us from ourselves every moment of every day. His salvation never ends. May the joy of that sink in enough to make you dance the happy-dance. ;)