Tag Archives: God lessons

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.

foggy writing

It hasn’t been definable, this reason for not writing. It seems mystical, unreachable, vaguely grey when I try to pin down why I gently shut my laptop closed on the blinking cursor, day after day.

The fog lingers even now. I don’t know why I’ve rested from writing.

And so I’m just going to push through the fog and write anyway.  It’s time. My words might not make sense, they might be cliche, they might be the weirdest thing anyone has ever said, or they might make you close your laptop.

But I’ve learned nothing if I haven’t learned writing is a creative outlet, and renewing, refreshing thing for me. And since Jesus is over and underneath and in between and holding together, then He’s in this, too.

So I’ll trust that. He is the Word, after all.

 

Grace for the Good Girl :: chapter 12

Well. This week’s chapter (chapter 12) is up and there is so much to talk about! However, this little post is going to be short and sweet because I have a sick little one who was up all night and this mama is t-i-r-e-d. So very tired.

In fact, I agree completely with Emily. I can’t do it. This mothering thing is eating my lunch today and it is only 9:15 in the morning. And yet. I have a “relevant Jesus, waiting with a smile to be himself in and through me.” {p. 143}

When I am this bone-tired and don’t have energy and have two littles needing anything I can give, I am not enough. But Jesus in me is. He is I AM. “I AM is my present reality and my only hope of freedom. Certainly, He will be with me.” {p. 146}

I’m going to “refuse to get up from His lap” today and know that “the riches of the fruit of His Spirit are made available to us in abundant supply.” {p. 147 & 150}

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1. When I was in high school and college, having a quiet time sometimes left me feeling as if I had accomplished something rather than related with a person. I equate it to working out: I don’t do it very often, but when I do I feel better about myself and slightly superior to those who may not have done the same that day. Have you ever been able to relate to this perspective of a quiet time?

2. Do you feel like a grown-up yet? In what ways has your perspective of time with the Lord changed as you have grown up?

3. God told Moses to tell the Israelites that I AM sent him. Read these synonyms for the word remain: stay put, stay behind, linger, wait, hang ab0ut, continue, endure, and hang on. These are all present, right-now words, much like the way God referred to himself with Moses. Does knowing that I AM is right now make any difference in the way you think about the course of your day?

Grace for the Good Girl :: chapter 11

Annnnnddd….we’re back! I’m so excited about starting this section of the book, y’all! This week we’re chatting about chapter 11 {Receive}.

There is such a truth-waterfall here, we could all drown. ;) But we’ll take it slow and if y’all have questions or need further clarification, or want to know why I can only come up with corny metaphors, just ask.

Emily speaks of The Wizard of Oz and how Dorothy had what she needed all along.

“Knowing what you have makes all the difference. As believers, we have been given everything for life and godliness, but if we don’t know it yet, we will never experience the reality of it.” {p. 129}

We already have what we think we need. Love, love how Emily explains the difference between soul and spirit, and how our spirits are what died in the Garden.

“The only way to bring the spirit to life is to admit it is dead and receive the One who is Life. When my spirit meets God’s Holy Spirit, life is made available. Now I have a choice. I can either receive truth from my circumstances by responding to what my soul tells me, or I can believe that God’s Spirit is now united with my spirit and receive truth from him.” {p. 133}

Oh, and those words about the “letting power”. We have to let the Truth be true in our lives. It is already there and it is already reality. Nothing will change that. As Emily says, “the truth is true whether I let it be or not.”

And so we choose to believe the truth. All the time. Between what out soul has been taught all its life and what we know in our spirit (joined in His Spirit) to be true. We can live from our masks or from who we really are.

“There is no other hope but the truth of Christ in you.” {p. 135}

Not to say that there is passivity, laziness, sitting on the couch eating Cheetos. {Although, that last one is a mom-necessity sometimes.} There is work, there is “a becoming” as Emily writes, as we walk with Him, but it is not about striving toward, working for, “achieving”…”rather it is in the act of receiving.” {p. 136}

It is work to receive His truth when our emotions are screaming at us that something else is true. It is work to receive His truth when our minds can’t possibly wrap around what He is saying. But we don’t have to conjure up, manufacture, produce the truth.

This is a huge statement. It took me a couple of years for that difference to trickle down from my head into my soul.

First, we must let go of our coping mechanisms, our masks, or default way of trying to control life on our own. And then we “receive the gift, and then live as if it were true.” {p. 138}

It is true. Now, go walk in it. Now, believe it.

And we have our entire lives to do this. God is never let down, disappointed, impatient with us. He is the author and perfecter of our faith. So let Him lead you into all truth.

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1. Ephesians 1 describes the many blessings that belong to us in Christ. Which of these blessings have you been striving after? How do you feel knowing they already belong to you? Well. Where to even begin? I sought after wisdom, after works, after trying to love other people. I still strive after them in between moments of remembering who I am and in Whom I live. SO MUCH FREEDOM in knowing they are already mine, that I don’t have to do a thing.

2. What has kept you from receiving your blessings and identity in Christ? What keeps you behind your masks? Not knowing who I really am. Believing the lie that what I do determines who I am. Not staying in the present reality that I am suspended in Grace.

3. What is the difference between obedience to the law and obedience to the truth? Literally, it is the difference between death and Life. Obedience to the law is living under death. The law is obliterated and the Truth has taken its place. Obedience to the Truth means I am listening to the Spirit, moment by moment, and He provides whatever I need to do what I need to do.

4. Is there a certain truth that is particularly difficult for you to obey, receive, or to let be true in your life? I’m a feeler, so it can be very difficult for me to get past whatever feeling I’m having. I’m learning how to let His Truth be greater than what my emotions try to tell me is the truth.

5. In what ways does knowing the difference between your soul and your spirit change the way you think? It changes everything!! Knowing my spirit is complete, hidden with Christ in God, is so freeing! And somehow, it makes it easier to relax, knowing that my soul gets it all wrong sometimes, but that’s not the end of the story.

6. Read Philippians 4:6-7. “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (emphasis added). Our hearts and minds are encompassed in our souls, not our spirits. As we let peace rule, it guards our souls. Can you you think of a time when you experienced God’s peace guarding your soul? Honestly, I think God’s peace guards our souls all the time, it is just every so often that our emotions match up with that truth. And also, it’s early in the morning and I can’t think of a good example. Which is why I look forward to reading y’all’s :)

Grace for the Good Girl :: intro to Part 2

Welcome back, lovely ladies! It’s the second day of spring, if you didn’t know ;) We are starting a new season in this book, too. We’re entering into the second half, the Part 2, the so-now-I-know-my-masks-and-how-they-stink-now-what phase. It’s gonna be good, y’all.

{Remember, you can click on the “Grace for the Good Girl book study” category under the “Categories” tab on the right and it will show you all the posts/discussions if you need to review or re-read.}

This introduction to Part 2 is called “The Finding”. We will cover chapter 11 {the first chapter in Part 2} next week. But be forewarned – it is so good but pretty hefty. So put the kids to bed early one night {you can claim any number of made-up charges} and read a bit extra! Not that I ever put my kids to bed early so I can do other things. Nope. Not me.

And if you’re gonna read a bit extra, you might as well read this little intro a couple of times, too. I just love how Emily writes and the Truth she speaks of.

“You have caught a glimpse of the God Who Sees. You know there is more to him than you once thought. And you know there is more to you. You want to come out, to let yourself be found by Love, to release your tight hold on familiar.” {p. 123}

She speaks of good girls who have to experience two rescues – the first at salvation when we were hidden with Christ in God, and the second one from ourselves and our own self-effort. Because “the good girl doesn’t know about this hiding with Christ. She does not understand the depth and breadth and height and width of this Lover who came for her, and so this rescue seems inadequate. She lives on the forgiveness side of the cross and then begins to work to earn the life.” {p. 124}

Umm, sound familiar? How many, many times do I work to earn the Life I already have!?

Oh, and then some of my favorite words. My sweet, wise friend, Chris, says this all the time…”You’re not this way. This may be how you cope, but this is not who you are.” {p. 125}

Get excited to discover who you really are as we move into Part 2 and Chapter 11 next week!

paint the day with thankfulness

Yesterday we went to church. Our church is about 25 minutes away and it starts at 3:00 in the afternoon. Because we’re rebels like that.

The pastor spoke from Psalm 92 {v. 1-4} about giving thanks.

It is good to give thanks to the Lord
And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High;
 To declare Your lovingkindness in the morning
And Your faithfulness by night,
With the ten-stringed lute and with the harp,
With resounding music upon the lyre.
For You, O Lord, have made me glad bywhat You have done,
I will sing for joy at the works of Your hands.

I heard him say that thanksgiving in Hebrew really means to confess. And confess means “to say the same thing as”. So giving thanks really means to say with God what He thinks about any given situation. Sweet freedom.

Y’all. All these years, I labored and worked and beat myself up because I wasn’t “being thankful” enough. Why can’t I just be thankful? Look at all these things I have. What is wrong with me?

Absolutely, yes, we need to recognize and appreciate the infinite blessings of physical and material things present in our lives. But that’s not what thanksgiving is. Boo-yah. Game-changer. I spent so much of my time looking at my circumstances through pitiful, weak, human eyes and finding not much of anything to be thankful for. I was limited in my thankfulness by what I could see and hear and taste with my senses. Oh, but God.

If thanksgiving is really saying with God what He thinks about things, I’m excited about giving thanks! My thanksgiving changes from what I can see to what I can’t see but know in my spirit.

Thanksgiving is recognizing not only what God has revealed about Himself but also what He thinks about me. And when I give thanks, I bring all of that into the present moment. God, in His unlimited, Immanuel, with-us self, is present with me and I can view my situations and circumstances through that God-with-me lens instead of my own broken glasses.

And instead of being vague in my “thank-you-for” prayers, true thanksgiving forces me into real reality, where God abides in me and I in Him and all my circumstances are just places to find Him already holding my hand.

Thank you that you are here, right now, placing in me words of wisdom for this 3-year-old temper tantrum.

Thank you for being my level-headedness instead of letting me stew in indecisiveness.

You are my love for this person, and I will thank you as I splash into your vast pool of it, knowing as I do that it will wash over me and them, too.

So okay, God, I will paint the day with thankfulness. I will paint with you the colors you and I decide on. I will dip my brush in your infinite-ness and love that knows no bounds. I will smear paint on the paper of this day, knowing you make everything beautiful.

link love

{source: 4men1lady.com via refeathered on Pinterest}

 

Some great reads. Because you need something to do, right?

To Parents of Small Children: Let me be the one who says it out loud by Steve Wiens {MUST read this. So good.}

When I don’t feel God by Amber Hains at The RunaMuck {read it slow and savor it}

The Great Kitchen Remodel by my sister at Living the Hyde Life

Dr. Nancy’s Remedies launch! These are some good friends of mine. And this is every homeopathic remedy you could ever want, including all-natural diaper cream!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Energy Bites by Robyn at The Farmer’s Nest {can’t wait to try these. as in, it is 7:30 in the morning and I’m about to get out my Kitchen Aid}

 

 

 

Grace for the Good Girl :: chapter 9

Another week has gone by, and I have yet {again} to write a blog post besides the book study. Oh well and amen. Sometimes like is just like that.

Chapter 9 this week is all about “When It Gets Ugly: Hiding Behind Her Indifference”.

When it gets ugly. Hmm. More like “when I see the ugly that is always there”, ugly meaning the lies we believe about ourselves and our God.

And, oh, the lies believed in the story of the prodigal son. Big brother believing he is all self-righteous and rule-following and the judge of all fairness. Prodigal brother thinking he is full of shame and worthlessness and who am I to approach my father. And yet none of those brothers are correct in their thinking. Neither way is the truth. The truth is that this story is all about the Father’s love. Pastor and speaker Malcolm Smith says that he wishes this parable’s title had been “The Love of the Father” instead of centering around the prodigal son.

Because just look at the father’s response in this story. Judgement and condemnation and offense toward the son who ran away and squandered money and sinned simply are not there in the father. This younger son was operating completely independently from the father’s love, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he had the time of his life for very long before it all went south. But. The father joyfully watches for the missing son every day and one heart-stopping day, he sees him from far off. He picks up his garments {revealing his ankles which was scandalous in those days} and runs to the son. The prodigal son’s behavior did not matter to the father. It didn’t change the father’s love for him one teeny-tiny bit or the father’s absolute-all-out-run-with-joy in redeeming him.

And look at the father’s response to the self-righteous son. “All that is mine is yours.” {Luke 15:31} The older brother, blinded by performance and doing the right thing and good behavior, was acting completely apart from the father’s love, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that he had all that his father had the entire time. Just because we act independently from God doesn’t mean everything He has and is and does is not ours for the taking.

As Emily points out, both brothers are operating apart from the father. Both are at the mercy of their own behavior and skills {or lack thereof} and small-seeing eyes. Both are wearing masks. Both sons have had available everything that the father has, but neither one chose to participate in it.

I love reading this story in Luke 15 with different eyes. Not centered around the prodigal son, but around the father’s response. Try it. :)

“The Father offered unconditional love and acceptance to both sons. I don’t have to figure out the mess. I do have to trust the One who can. He has always been with you, and all that He has is yours. Are you willing to step into the celebration and receive the gifts of your inheritance, or are you hanging around with the servants outside the doors?” {p. 106}

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1. With whom do you more closely identify: the prodigal son or the older brother?

2. What are your honest, unedited thoughts about the father in this story?

3. In what ways are you living like a servant rather than a daughter?

4. Have you ever felt like your good girl life has left you with an unworthy testimony because you haven’t experienced a period of rebellion? What makes a testimony worthy – the one rescued or the Rescuer?

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.

 

on hospitality

I’ve been stewing on the nitty-gritty of hospitality. The down and dirty of being hospitable. What does it really mean? How does it really feel? And I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t mean my house is shiny spotless 24/7 and it certainly doesn’t feel like panic as I’m blazing through the living room, scooping my piles of halfway-folded laundry into a basket and shouting orders on repeat to my toddler to clean-up-your-toys-NOW-or-else before someone swings by for an unplanned visit. No, definitely not the meaning of hospitality.

So I did what any nerdy word-loving gal does. I looked up the definition on dictionary.com.

hospitality {n}: the friendly reception and treatment of guests or strangers; the quality or disposition of receiving and treating guests and strangers in a warm, friendly, generous way

Nowhere in that definition did it say I needed to keep my floors from being crumb-y. Or all my furniture dust-free. Or keep my kitchen trash can from overflowing out the back. {Don’t judge.}

When I read that definition, the Spirit inside me shouted AMEN! Hospitality is to be all about other people. Receiving them exactly as they are. It is real relationships. True community.

A couple of nights ago, we had a very last-minute dinner at our house with two other families. And I think almost for the first time in our seven years of marriage, it felt like true hospitality. So I’ve been pondering that ever since.

Here’s what’s funny. My house wasn’t super clean. Hubby and I had been working on outside projects all day, so we had tracked in dust and dirt. I hadn’t had a shower all day. I had dirt smudges on my “work-outside” jeans {read: ill-fitting and old} and semi-greasy hair. I think I put deodorant on, but I can’t swear to it. I didn’t have time to do my usual 30-minute prep/rush around/sweep the floors thing before everyone came over. No one’s bed was made. There were dishes in my sink. Cloth diapers were hanging out to dry.

But it was the most enjoyable dinner with friends we’ve had in a long time.

I realized something in me is finally shifting. I have less of a perfect-house-need and more of a genuine-relationship-need.

For so long I’ve held perfection in one hand and hospitality in the other and wondered why I could never get them to shake hands and make friends with each other. They are at odds with each other. When perfection isn’t my standard, when people are the focus, that is true hospitality. When the house and its state of cleanliness isn’t my focus, I can enjoy the actual people that come into it.

Something holy happens. Now my house becomes the background noise of real relationship. It drops back from center stage to wait quietly in the wings. It is there when we need drinks or an oven to cook dinner or when someone needs to use the bathroom. But it doesn’t take part in living His life as we relate to other people. The house isn’t hospitality.

Don’t get me wrong, I love decorating and nesting and making my home pretty. But I finally saw that when we open our home to other people, all that fluff isn’t the point. Pretty houses are great and all, but they don’t form friendships or listen with Spirit ears or encourage or laugh. We do that.

And something else, too. Not having all my house stuff together meant I was presenting a less than perfect front. I wasn’t focused on my appearance, the state of my house, or even my cleanliness. ;) And you know what? It automatically put everyone else at ease. Being met at the door with such an obvious degree of non-perfection created a safe, breathable atmosphere for everyone who came in. I wasn’t wearing my “me-and-my-house-have-it-all-together” mask and it created that warm, cozy, inviting home that I always wanted it to be.

So come on over. But I have to warn you, I may or may not be wearing deodorant.

{One more thing…I recently read this post from Shannan at Flower Patch Farm Girl. She talks about all this hospitality and home stuff beautifully. ;) }

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