Category Archives: Faith + God

The Vulnerability to Pray

Posted on by

9d883252495e0bafba09370dbdbd643dNot long ago I sat in a room of people sharing prayer requests with each other and noticed something: Most every request was about someone else, not the person sharing it. This made me think, how much easier it is for us to share the needs and vulnerabilities of others than it is to share the needs and vulnerabilities of our own hearts and lives.

There’s nothing wrong with sharing a request for someone else—generally, these requests are shared sincerely with genuine concern and most people are happy to know others are praying for them in a time of need. But still, why is it so hard for us to say things about ourselves like:

“I’m struggling with…”

“I’m hurting from…”

“I need help with…”

“Please pray for me.”

Prayer is a humbling thing. Prayer is an acknowledgement of need for help from a power higher than us. When I pray, I confess that I can’t…I can’t for myself, I can’t for those I’m concerned about. Prayer acknowledges that only God can and so we turn our hearts to him in prayer asking that he would.

So admitting to others what I can’t do, can’t control—this is a humbling thing. How much easier it is to ask for prayer on behalf of someone else I know who’s hurting or in need. How much safer to keep my own needs and vulnerabilities to myself.

And yet, what power there is in prayer and in humbling ourselves enough to pray with sincerity and vulnerability. How much better could I know and pray for my friends and family if they were willing to say, “I’m struggling with…” “I need help with…”.

I’m not a fan of vulnerability. No, I would rather feel safe. I would rather take my own needs and concerns directly to God and leave everyone else out. Thankfully, I do have direct access to pray but that’s not how God intended the church to work exclusively.

God meant for us to need and help each other. He meant for us to know each other beyond the surface, down to the very heart and soul. But if we are too proud to be open and honest with each other we will never know or understand the depth of help and support we could truly offer in life and in prayer. I can’t help with a need I don’t know about or pray for a concern that’s never been shared. The more we keep to ourselves, the less we can offer in prayerful support.

This is a hard lesson for me. I would like to pretend it’s not something I need to work on. But the truth is, 90% of the time when asked how I’m doing, I just say, “fine”—whether that’s the truth or not. It’s easier, it’s safer…but it’s not the way God meant for me to relate to others.

I had a close friend ask me recently what the best and worst thing is in my life right now—simple questions that lead to deep answers about what brings me the most joy and most heartache in my life right now. She answered the same two questions and I learned a lot about what she’s going through and how I can better pray for the needs of her heart right now. This again got me thinking about how important honesty and transparency are if we truly want to know and help each other beyond the surface. How thankful I am for friends who see through my cheerful “I’m fine” and “good” when asked how I’m doing and push me towards truth and honesty.

Though it’s scary, it’s also so very good to be known. I feel the most loved by the people who know me best…the people who have seen me at my worst and know the things about my heart I would share with no one else. Really, there is much safety in vulnerability for here we find out who we can trust and are most loved by.

So don’t be afraid to humble yourself and tell the truth about the needs in your life. Though it’s scary, you will likely find many around you are happy to pray and help as best they can if only you are willing to let them in.

Your Joy is Your Strength

Posted on by

11199399_1581552952122173_1678725977_nI keep meaning to get on here and write but apparently my baby can climb the steps now, so ya. Also, it’s 85 degrees out. I know it’s been summer everywhere else in the country for like two months, but seriously you guys— EIGHTY FIVE DEGREES. Sometimes I just have to go outside barefoot for a few minutes before I can sit down calm enough to write.

The other day I was walking around the block pushing Roman in his stroller. It had been a rough day, rough week…a really rough winter and season of life if I’m being honest. While I walked, I kept thinking about this verse, “…the joy of the LORD is your strength” {Nehemiah 8:10}.

I struggle with being a joyful person. I tend to be a pessimist and often see the negative in a situation before I catch sight of the good. I have good days when I feel positive and hopeful but even more days when I struggle with seeing the hope, joy, and light all around me.

So I mulled over this verse and thought about what it means for me on the days when I’m weighed down and overwhelmed, when I’m struggling against the darkness and missing the light.

I thought about strength and finding strength in joy. Strength—I’ve been tired lately, more tired than I was when Roman was just born. And the idea of strength for my days and the tasks before me—that is something I’m searching for.

It didn’t make sense to me, how joy could give me strength. But the more I mull over these words, the better I understand just how true they are. It’s hard to feel discouraged when I choose to focus my thoughts on God and all his mercy and gifts to me. Even when I’m tired, discouraged, overwhelmed—remembering all God has brought me through, all he has given me—these things fill my mind with joy and it is true, that in that joy, there is strength. When I am consciously choosing to think right—choosing joy—I am encouraged and find the strength I need for that day.

Of course I still have bad days, I’m not happy or encouraged all the time. But I’m finding that I have a lot of power over my own thinking and the way I choose to think greatly impacts my mood and the way I choose to live each day. If I choose to dwell on those things that frustrate and discourage me, then it’s no surprise when I find myself discouraged and overwhelmed. But if I choose to dwell on all the good and hope in my life each day, there is strength and joy enough even for the hard things.

So I’m learning, learning to choose joy. Learning to control my own thoughts and beliefs about life rather than being tossed around by difficult and changing circumstances.

My joy, the joy of the Lord, is my strength—it’s not just a saying or a pretty verse, it’s a way of thinking and living and there is so much hope to be found in living a life filled with joy, strength, and peace rather than gloom and discouragement.

Is Modern Christianity Relevant?

Posted on by

10859615_10152506058101517_915080845_nThere is something about the rain that makes me want to write…a sleeping baby doesn’t hurt either. I’m curled up on the couch in a dark living room listening to the rain hit the window. The cat is in my lap, after turning about 15 times before finding just the right spot—that spot being one that requires I hold the laptop just far enough away to be a bit uncomfortable for typing. But I feel sorry for him—he doesn’t get much attention anymore so I’ll hold him and type this way if it lets him know I still love him—even if I am the one who brought that noisy baby into the house. Besides, I need someone to proofread this for me and he’s quite scrupulous.

And now the baby is awake; you see why I don’t write anymore?

I’ve been thinking lately about modern Christianity. I think it’s the modern part that’s bothering me. I was looking through a list of the Top 100 Christian Bloggers or something like that. I was familiar with some of the names and faces and have read articles from many of them. But it was the words describing these writers that got my attention:

Progressive

Change

Radical

Rethinking Biblical Christianity

Brew your own faith

All of these blogs seemed to be coming from the same basic perspective: Modern Christianity is bad so we need to rewrite our faith.

Now before you start pummeling me with words, let me be clear: I’m not against change—sometimes change is needed. I’m not against asking hard questions and examining our faith knowing we may find things we’re doing wrong. I’ve been attending conservative Baptist churches my whole life and let me tell you, sometimes Baptists can be cray cray. Some of the worst people I’ve ever known were “born again” Baptist church goers and I’ve been to a few churches that caused more harm than good. So I’m not here to defend organized religion or the people who run it. There’s been more than one day when I was ready to be done with religion {not God, religion} altogether.

But on the other side of this story, I believe if our faith is right and true, then it is also timeless. There’s no need to “brew my own faith” because my faith is not my own—it wasn’t written by or for me. It was written by and for God, for his people all over the world for all time. Perhaps my particular church in my teeny, tiny corner of the world needs to change—but my faith, the Bible I read to know and understand that faith, and God himself—these are unchangeable and no new or progressive interpretation need change that.

I’m getting tired of the negativity among Christians these days. I’m getting tired of my brothers and sisters in Christ being ashamed of our faith and practice. This is not to say I haven’t at times been guilty of the very same things. But it seems the general attitude about the church among my generation is, let’s burn it to the ground and start over.

Let’s take our ancient, timeless faith and do something new and exciting with it.

Let’s show people how our peculiar, countercultural way of life is super relevant and not hard or sacrificial.

Forgive me if I sound harsh but this doesn’t make sense.

Because here’s the thing: my way of life doesn’t make sense unless it’s based on something bigger and more important than me, something bigger and more important than what I find relevant and exciting for me personally. I do not need to make my way of living relevant to the culture around me because I am not trying to be like the culture around me. I’m trying to be like Christ and if Christ is anything like the world I live in, then why would I want him anyway? My God is different. He’s light. He’s beauty. He’s justice. He’s hope. He’s everything this world can’t give me and that is part of why I believe and hope in him—not because he’s relevant but because he’s so very different from everything else I’ve ever known.

I don’t want to change God into my image; I want to be changed into his. I don’t want God to be current or progressive; I want him to be timeless and unchanging so I can anchor my soul to a rock who won’t move.

I’ve been reading my way through the Old Testament and am just a few pages into Leviticus. Leviticus is not easy reading, my friends. This book is all about rules and regulations and the very specific way God wants things done. Why? Because God is holy and not like us. Because God wants his people to be set apart and different from the people around them. Christianity is about God and about being his peculiar people. Though organized religion may falter and change, the God of the Bible and the way he desires his people to live never does.

Let’s not confuse changing our mistakes in religion with changing the timeless truth of God and his Word. Yes, God is relevant to modern culture but it’s not because we changed him and made him that way; it’s because he and his timeless truth are always relevant in every culture just as they are.

 

You Can Grow Here

Posted on by

grow instaYou can grow from the rock, you can grow anywhere.

We own a duplex and live in one half while we rent out the other half. It’s small and cozy and the place we’ve called home for the last four years. I always wanted to move before having a baby because it seemed pretty ambitious to fit even one more thing in such a small space—especially a baby and all the crazy equipment babies come with these days.

I thought my plan was going to work out beautifully. We bought our fixer-upper over a year ago and even when I found out I was pregnant last fall, I still thought for sure we would be all moved and settled before the baby arrived. I was wrong. First we said it would be ready in the spring. Then we said it would be ready by the end of the summer. Now I’m just crossing my fingers and hoping we make it in by the end of the year.

And so sometime in the next few weeks we will bring our little baby home to the house I always said was too small for such things. It’s amazing how you can adapt and change as life and circumstances require you to do so. Somehow we have managed to make room for our little guy—a bassinette tucked in the corner by our bed, a small dresser for all his things against the last bare wall in our room, the living room rearranged to accommodate a rocker, swing, and bouncer all three, the stroller folded up against the door we don’t use, and cabinets emptied and rearranged for bottles and bibs and all his tiny foreign things. It’s tighter and more crowded than ever before and yet somehow, a little to my own amazement still, we have found a way to make it all work. As this little guy takes up more and more room in our hearts, so we have found a way to make room for him in our little home too.

It’s funny how this lesson has had to repeat itself so many times over in my life. Perhaps I’m a slow learner. I always think things have to be just so or they simply can’t be at all. But I have seen again and again that life is fluid and we must be flexible if we’re to survive the ebb and flow of things beyond our control. If you had told me nine months ago that we would be bringing our baby home to this crowded little house, I would have been frustrated and certain it couldn’t work. And yet here we are—hospital bags packed, tiny clothes washed and tucked away, ready to bring this baby back to the only place we can really call home right now.

And you know what? It will be fine. We’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. Nothing will be ruined even if things have worked out so differently from how I had planned. It’s just another step in this journey that will continue to unfold with or without our permission.

I’m sure being a new mother and learning how to care for a child will be much the same way—not at all how I think it will be or should be and yet we will grow and change and learn along the way how to do what’s before us—however imperfect it may sometimes seem.

Out of the Mud

Posted on by

I have long loved the Scripture that reads,

“I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure” {Psalm 40:1-2}.

I have seen God in my life bring me up out of the pit, out of the miry clay and set my feet upon a rock. Often when I pray, I pray that verse back to God—thanking him for bringing me up out of a pit and building my life today on a rock. What I never exactly thought about though was the remainder of the passage which reads:

“He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see it and fear, and put their trust in the LORD” {Psalm 40:3, ESV}.

God has been good to me. He has brought me out of dark places into the light. He has brought me out of a pit and built my life on a rock. This is beautiful and humbling but it’s not all for my benefit. It is so people may “see it and fear [stand in awe], and put their trust in the Lord.”

God’s goodness to me is meant to reflect back on him. He has given me good things and brought me to a good place because he loves me and because such love and goodness are meant to reflect back on him, meant to draw people back to his love and the goodness he offers us all.

I often think of the verse,

“To whom much has been given, much more shall be required” {Luke 12:48}.

I have been given much in my life and much is now required of me in how I use what’s given. Does my life reflect back to the giver of all life?

DSC_0008 (2)

On Time Before Time

Posted on by

I sit here tonight all cozied up on the couch with a book and a mug of hot chocolate—the real stuff, not the store-bought packets. Cocoa powder, sugar, and milk warmed together on the stove top. Heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar and vanilla whipped together into a fluffy cloud of heaven melt into the hot chocolate and I think I might be complete now.

I ran out to the car for something and had to put my weight into pushing open the front door against the snow that has accumulated on the porch. The snow is already up to the tops of my boots and the wind is swirling around like a sort of snow hurricane. It’s exciting {so long as you’re safe and sound inside with a good book and a proper mug of hot chocolate, that is}.

I’m reading Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. She writes:

“I stomped out the door, back into the car, still in my pajamas, and as I opened the garage door again, I stopped in my tracks. In the park across the street, one of the tallest trees, twice as high as a two-story house, was the brightest, most insane, lit-from-within red I have ever seen. And it took my breath away, for two reasons.

First, because it was so beyond beautiful, and second, because I had not noticed one step of its turning. I had been in and out of my driveway a zillion times in the last two weeks and could not have told you if the tree was even still standing or not. As I stood there in the driveway, I realized that I had stopped seeing the most important things to see.”

Reading that I was struck by how God had that tree ready just when she needed to learn something from it. God didn’t zap the tree and turn it red at that moment, no, he slowly, carefully turned it red one week at a time until it was just right at just the right moment. That took some thinking ahead and I think it interesting all the work and preparation that goes into the moments that stop us and teach us something about life, or God, or beauty just when we are most in need of such a lesson.

And I wonder what God is preparing right now while I sit here in a snow storm sipping hot chocolate. I wonder what tree he is growing or what person he is teaching that will someday cross my path and guide me when I most need some guidance. I wonder what God is planning ahead before I have any concept of a need that will someday be met, seemingly, in the nick of time.

God is working, he is moving. He is growing trees and people and directing so many paths and patterns and working all things out and together to meet up in just the right place, at just the right time.

And I think that is beautiful.

Grow Towards the Son

Posted on by

I have a basil plant sitting in my kitchen window. He’s a survivor, that plant, for he’s lived here for months now and hasn’t been killed. Plants generally come to my home only to meet their maker. I don’t mean to kill them…I just forget to keep them alive.

But that basil, he fights on and on. When I first brought the basil home he was bushed out in all directions with his fragrant leaves going everywhere. After months in the window he’s grown bald on one side with all his leaves growing only on the other side—the side facing the window. His leaves face the glass, soaking up the sunshine (as much as can be had on a short winter’s day) and watching him stretch towards the light makes me think—he grows toward the sun.

He reaches for the light, the warmth, the food that foods his green little veins and watching him makes me wonder—shouldn’t I too be growing towards the Son? Toward the light, the warmth, the food that feeds my soul?

It’s a simple thought wrapped up in a hard lesson and I’m reminded to turn my back on what doesn’t feed my soul and turn my face towards the only light that does.

I’m reminded to grow towards the Son.

Confidence and Insecurity

Posted on by

I struggle a lot with insecurity. I worry about how I look and what people think of me. I’ve been thinking about why I feel so insecure and care so much about other people’s opinions. What I realized was pretty simple: I worry and feel insecure because I’m filled with pride.

Here’s the pattern I see:

{1} I’m filled with pride so I worry about what other people think of me.

{2} Because I worry about what other people think of me, I feel like I need to look and act a certain way to be good enough.

{3} To look that certain way I spend too much time, thought, and money on clothing and my physical appearance.

{4} Then I end up comparing myself to other people to see if I’m good enough.

{5} If I don’t feel good enough, I get jealous and competitive and try to outdo other people.

{6} If I compare myself to someone and decide I’m actually more attractive or talented than they are, then my heart is filled with pride and an I’m-better-than-you attitude.

{7} Because I’m worried about what people will think of me, I hide behind silence. I’m afraid if I start talking I’ll say something stupid and people won’t like me. I only say what’s safe. I only write what’s safe. I don’t really let people in or share my heart.

When I base my value on the opinions of other people, I end up feeling like I’ll never be good enough. I’ll never be as smart, funny, or talented as that other writer or as thin and put together as that other girl.

I tell myself if I could just have that outfit, or more friends, or a more popular blog—then I will be good enough. Then I will be confident and satisfied. Then I can be the person I’m supposed to be.

But these are all lies I tell myself.

Because the problem isn’t my outfit or personality or anything else about who I am.

My problem is in what I look to for security.

If I’m looking to myself or to other people I will never find satisfaction or peace in my heart. My heart will only ever be filled with pride and jealousy.

The problem isn’t who I am. The problem isn’t who I’m not. The problem is when I try to find myself in anything but God.

Donald Miller said,

“None of us are here by accident. We were born because God loves to create. And He was pleased when you were born.”

He’s right. And if I could just believe he’s right then maybe I could finally have peace in my heart about who I am. Because who I am is exactly who God wanted me to be.

I’m not perfect, but I’m complete in Christ.

I’m not the outfit I’m wearing or how much I weigh. I’m not the number of friends I have or the amount of money I make.

I’m a part of God’s creation, a chapter (or line) in his story. The story isn’t about me and I’m not the author. This is his story and I’m here only to play a part.

God has a plan for me and a part he wants me to play in his narrative. It would be a sad waste to spend my whole life trying to tell a story about myself instead of him.

It would be a sad waste to worry more about what people think about me than what they know about my God.

It would be a sad waste to spend all my time and thought trying to be the prettiest girl in the room so people will look at and admire me rather than helping others look at and admire my God.

What a waste of words to write only the safe things that will make people like me rather than the scary things that might point someone to something so much better than anything I can offer.

What a waste to spend my life silent and insecure because all I think about is the story I’m telling rather than the greater narrative in which I play a part.

As long as I look to myself and the opinions of others, I will remain proud and insecure. But if I will look to Christ and find my small place in his great narrative, then I can live with the confidence and security I need to accomplish all I am meant to do in this life.

Everything I Ever Wanted

Posted on by

I realized recently that God has given me everything I ever asked for and I never even thanked him.

What I did was complain about everything he’s ever given me.

What I did was come up with a new list of things I wanted.

I wanted to love and be loved; so God gave me an incredible husband—who I complain at when everything doesn’t go my way.

I wanted to get out of our downtown apartment and live in a real house; so God gave me a beautiful home—that I can’t wait to get out of.

I wanted a better job with normal hours and better pay; so God gave me an ideal job with amazing hours—that I complain about because I work too much.

I saw it all laid out before me this morning—the pattern that keeps repeating itself. I want something different, something better. God gives me what I ask for. I fail to thank him or enjoy his good gifts because I’ve already moved onto the next thing I want—the thing I know will finally make me happy.

I am humbled by this realization: God has given me everything I ever asked for and I never even thanked him.

Using Prayer as an Excuse for Inaction

Posted on by

It’s easy when we hear about needs and problems in each other’s lives to promise we’ll pray for one another. Prayer is of course a very powerful and important resource in our lives. But sometimes prayer can be misused as an easy way out of taking action in the lives of those who are hurting. We misuse prayer when:

1) We fail to see how we can help each other by taking action: We mean well when we promise to pray but it’s easy to overlook the practical ways we can help on a physical level too. In addition to our prayers we could:

  • Take a meal to a new mother, someone who is sick or injured, someone who is grieving, or to a family struggling financially.
  • Listen to someone who just needs to talk through feelings and be heard.
  • Volunteer time to help around the house or yard or to run errands.
  • Babysit for a busy mom or someone who is sick or grieving.
  • Write a letter to encourage and let someone know they’re being thought of and aren’t alone.
  • Say yes as much as possible when asked for help or a listening ear.

“I learned that faith isn’t about knowing all of the right stuff or obeying a list of rules. It’s something more, something more costly because it involves being present and making a sacrifice. Perhaps that’s why Jesus is sometimes called Immanuel—‘God with us.’ I think that’s what God had in mind, for Jesus to be present, to just be with us. It’s also what He has in mind for us when it comes to other people.” Bob Goff (p. 8 Love Does)

2) We use prayer to turn a blind eye: Sometimes we don’t want to get involved in other people’s lives or in problems that seem too big for us. We hear about kids being run through the foster care system needing loving homes and families but we’re afraid or overwhelmed by the idea of bringing a child into our own home—so we say we’ll pray instead and never really stop and consider if there’s more we should be doing. We notice the mom who always snaps at her children in public and never stop to consider if she needs rest, help, or encouragement. We don’t want to get our hands dirty. We’re too busy and too tired to get involved in the messy lives of others so we say we’ll pray (and perhaps we even do) all the while turning a blind eye to the physical needs all around us.

“Jesus told the people he was with that it’s not enough to just look like you love God. He said we’d know the extent of our love for God by how well we loved people.” Bob Goff (p. 15 Love Does)

3) We use prayer to guard ourselves from heartache: Getting involved in people’s lives can get messy. When you open your heart up to love and action, you open yourself up to the possibility of getting hurt. It’s so much easier to say, “I’ll be praying for you” than it is to get in the trenches and ask, “What can I do to help?” But the love of God is a love deep enough to take action—to take risks and offer love in spite of the potential for heartache. God did not guard his heart from us; we should not guard ourselves from others. God’s heart was broken for us—will we let our heart be broken for him?

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

4) We use prayer to cover wrongs rather than dealing with them: Sometimes when we say we’ll pray, all we really need to say is, “I’m sorry.” I know of a situation where someone has been wronged and hurt by someone else. The wrongdoer tells the wronged that they’re praying for them but those prayers (however sincere) are falling on deaf ears. Until the wrong has been made right, prayers will only add insult to injury. The person hurt does not want to be prayed for; he wants only to be apologized to. And until an apology is made, prayer comes off as arrogant and insincere. If you have wronged someone, make it right with them—not just in your prayers to God but in your actions toward the one you have hurt.

“We don’t like to put hands and feet on love. When love is a theory, it’s safe, it’s free of risk. But love in the brain changes nothing.” Donald Miller

God’s love is played out in verbs as should be the love we have for each other. So, the next time you tell someone you’ll pray for them—do so—and then ask what else you can do to demonstrate your love in action.