Schadenfreude
“Accept people.”
That was the last of 4 specific “marching orders” that God seemed to be giving me for the month of January. As I mentioned before, a couple dozen ladies from my church family rallied together to do a group fast, each of us abstaining from or focusing on certain things. I didn’t fast food, but instead felt called to focus my attention on issues of the heart the Father was addressing.
To be honest, I was a bit flummoxed by this “accept people” directive. The others were obvious things—get up early and pray, that sort of thing. What do you mean Accept people? Don’t I already accept people? Who don’t I accept? What does that even mean? Well, I figured even if I didn’t understand it I better say Yes, Sir! and start marching and He’d show me more in time.
And He did. Shortly after the fast began, I was reading through the Sermon on the Mount and was struck afresh by,
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you.
Matthew 7:1-2
It goes on to talk about specks, logs, we are mostly familiar with that part. But then right after, in the same breath, Jesus says,
Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.
v. 6
And then:
Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will recognize them by their fruits…
v.15-16
Ok, wow. That sounds a whole lot like judging. I mean, How do I discern who is a dog unless I make a judgment? How do I figure out who false prophets are unless I do some evaluation of fruit? All that discerning evaluating sure sounds a lot like judging.
Right? But here’s the thing:
Discerning Heart vs. Critical Spirit
As I prayed through this what surfaced was that the bottom line is attitude. A critical spirit is an attitude that is eager to find fault. It is not so interested helping other people flourish but in being right. It kind of feels good to find fault. There’s a little tinge of pleasure when someone “shows their true colors” and messes up.
This can be so subtle. When someone makes a poor choice, for instance, and I know deep down it’s a poor choice, then when that choice bears bad fruit there can be a subtle (inward, secret, silent!) “See, I told you so!” in my heart, which is that critical spirit. No one has to see it in order for it to be sin.
“Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”
1 Corinthians 13:6
We should never feel a tinge of self-satisfying smug “rejoicing” when someone does wrong, or when something surfaces. Even if we “saw it coming,” if there is any part of us that “rejoices at wrongdoing” then we are have not love, we have a critical spirit (and, most likely, a huge log hanging out of our eye!).
So I sat with God and my journal and asked God to show me some ways that this crops up in my life. He showed me some. I repented. It was so good.
Right after that I walked into the kitchen and Heidi had left her coat on the floor. Even though I wasn’t angry or upset, I said, “Heidi I don’t know why you always leave your jacket on the floor.” And immediately the Holy Spirit said, “THAT.” Those words were spoken from a critical spirit. Yes, Heidi needs to learn not to throw her jacket on the ground, but my words were cutting and critical, instead of life-giving and instructive. It just took that one word from God to show me the difference.
While God showed me plenty of ways I do this in my own life, of course it’s way easier for me to see it in others (ha!). As I watched certain people in the audience at the State Of The Union address, it was obvious, They don’t want our the current administration to succeed. Everything about their body language oozed arrogance and disgust. If our president fell into terrible misfortune, I have a feeling they’d be rejoicing.
That is so incredibly sad. And it’s sad that that sort of filth is in MY OWN heart too. Who in this world drives me crazy? Would I be secretly happy if Rachel Hollis fell flat on her face? No use lying, Jesus sees the heart! Friends, this isn’t for “those people” out there: WE need this truth.
And here’s the thing:
As long as we harbor a critical spirit we can’t house a discerning heart.
There’s only room for one. And during these dark days we desperately need a discerning heart. We need be able to spot RAVENOUS WOLVES. We need to eye those pigs so we don’t waste our pearls.
In ever-increasing measure, we must be discerning people. But discerning people don’t rejoicing over wrong-doing. If I have a vineyard and I go out to inspect the fruit, I don’t inwardly gloat and rejoice and get smug when I find a bad vine. I don’t go, “Aha! I KNEW IT!” When I see some rotten grapes.
There’s a name for this: Schadenfreude. It’s a German word meaning, Malicious rejoicing. It’s being secretly happen when misfortune happens to another. And ultimately, that’s what a critical spirit is. It’s taking just the tiniest amount of joy in finding fault in another.
Who knew that all this was wrapped up in the little words, “Accept people.” But there you have it. Let’s be people who are discerning, wise, careful, skillful in eyeing ravenous wolves and dogs and enemies of the truth. But let us never stoop so low as to rejoice in evil. Let us grieve over other’s sin, not get self-righteous.
Amen? Amen.
Thanks for reading.
Free to Weep
Are you free from the Tyrant? At least a little bit? Now that you’re freed FROM something you’re freed FOR something. Ready? Now that you’re freed from slavery to your emotions, you’re free to enter fully into others’.
Say what?! I thought I was just freed from my emotions so I could be happier. So I could hold my head up high and soar on the wings of awesomeness. Isn’t that the point of spiritual victory?
No. The point is freedom FOR the sake of others.
Please understand, I believe we are called to be freed from having to obey our emotions, not so that we can be aloof, unfeeling, untouched by the sorrows of the world. The point isn’t complete detachment, it’s freedom. It’s freedom to set my feelings aside so that I can enter in more fully to the needs of others.
Here’s the thing: My last post? If inwardly I’m thinking, “Oh you know who REALLY needs to read this??” Then I’ve missed the point. Sure, we may mentally identify those who are in bondage to emotions, but if we’re super eager for them to “just get over it” we aren’t actually following Jesus at all.
Jesus wept. (John 11:35)
We just studied this passage in Bible study. We considered it. The shortest verse in the Bible contains a wealth of wisdom for us. Why would Jesus weep? Didn’t He know that He didn’t have to be ruled by His emotions? Was He a slave to the Tyrant? Had He forgotten how wonderful heaven is? Didn’t He know that we should REJOICE when Christians die? Furthermore, didn’t He know that He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead?
Of course He wasn’t a slave to the Tyrant. Of course He knows how great heaven is. Of course He knew He’d resurrect Lazarus in a moment. Of course.
Jesus wept because Jesus cared.
Jesus, the most emotionally-healthy person who ever walked the planet, wept.
He didn’t weep because He was a slave to His emotions, He wept because He wasn’t.
When we are freed slavery to ours, we can freely enter into theirs.
Here’s what I mean: If I pursue emotional freedom in order to avoid pain, I have missed the point. Escaping pain was never Jesus’ plan. Jesus actually chose pain. He chose to enter into the messes of this world. He BORE the brokenness and sorrow and agony of this busted up world. His emotional freedom gave him the capacity to weep with others.
He was free to truly love.
If we exasperated with others’ emotional challenges, we don’t need to tell them off, we need more love. We need patience. We need long-suffering. Yes, we might need to speak some hard truths, that most definitely does happen. But that truth must be born from love, not exasperation.
Jesus didn’t rail at Mary and Martha, “Come on, you emotional women! Get a grip! Move on. Don’t you know how great heaven is? It’s all good when people die, it’s just a promotion, right?” Jesus didn’t say any of the idiotic things that people insensitively say in the face of others’ grief.
He wept.
And then He brought resurrection.
He was able to help because He first felt.
Before He was a Savior, He was a Friend.
Personally, that’s a word for me. Recently I swooped into a situation as a savior, before being a friend. I’m learning.
Will you learn with me? Will you choose to be free FROM slavery to emotions, and FOR the purpose of loving, caring, and serving those around you? We’ll probably make a few messes along the way, but let’s not give up. Let’s look to Jesus, again and again and again, and pursue emotional health so that we can reach out to the world with His compassionate love.
{Thanks for reading.}
Freedom from the Tyrant
Just imagine: Every single day, as soon as you wake up, the Tyrant comes into your room and starts bossing you around. He insists you immediately go his way, no questions asked. All day long, you are tossed back and forth by his every-changing demands. One minute, he insists on this. The next, it’s something else. It’s exhausting, never knowing what is next, as you bow before his tyranny day after day. Others can’t expect much of you, because you are constantly busy obeying the Tyrant. In fact, everything else and everyone else have to take a back seat to the Tyrant’s ever-changing will. It’s a full-time job to say the least. Actually, it’s more like slavery.
This sounds absurd, but sadly this is the reality, one one level or another, when we believe we have to live by our emotions.
In our culture, where we’ve rejected absolute truth, oddly enough our feelings are the one non-negotiable we treat as absolutes. Paul Miller writes,
“Modern psychology immobilizes us… Emotional states are sacred. If I’m grumpy, I have a right to feel that way and to express my feelings. Everyone around me simply has to get over it. One of the worst sins, according to pop psychology, is to suppress your emotions.”
For the month of January, two dozen ladies from my church family did a fast together. We all fasted various things, including fasting from fasting (ha!). It looked different for each of us, but one constant was that we each had marching orders from God: What He wanted us to abstain from, engage in, focus on, or give ourselves to. We had an ongoing email thread throughout the month to share the things God was doing and showing us. It was SO COOL because everyone had different experiences, but there were some common threads throughout.
At the risk of sounding dramatic, in some ways I feel like I “got saved” all over again. There were some significant shifts in my understanding of the gospel that have creoriented my perspective. I’m still unpacking it all, but I hope to share bits and pieces here as I’m able.
But one of them was this: You don’t have to obey your emotions. They are legitimate. But they aren’t absolute. They are part of my fallen nature that is being redeemed by Christ.
Christ is Lord, not my feelings.
His Word is truth, not how I feel.
In just one week, God allowed me to see several different situations where I had feelings about something, only later to discover the truth, and realize that my feelings had been completely mis-informed. Similarly, day by day He keeps reminding me that I don’t have to live out of how I feel. If I’ve been up all night with a baby, and my body is tired, that’s fine, but I don’t have to therefore live out of grumpiness. I don’t have to let that fatigue define me. If I’m irritated with my family, I don’t have to sulk or sigh or give them the silent treatment or whatever.
I can tell my emotions to please be quiet because I’m going to go ahead and be like Jesus who came not to be served but to serve and give His life for the sake of others.
Do you see it? Jesus! Jesus is our example, not this world that tells you to look out for yourself and “be true to yourself” by indulging in every emotion that comes your way. That’s just slavery. It’s bondage to the Tyrant of feelings, and as long as we shackle ourselves to our senses, we’ll never be free.
I can feel hurt, feel neglected, feel rejected, feel angry, feel agitated, feel forgotten, but I do not have to obey that Tyrant of feelings. I can choose Christ. I can choose love. I can choose forgiveness. I can choose to die to myself and take up my cross and love people who don’t deserve it because Christ did that for me when I most certainly did not deserve it.
Freedom, friends. Freedom.
Go, be free.
{Thanks for reading.}
How Christmas handles our hate
Burn in hell.
I could scarcely believe the rage that surged up and crashed like a stormy wave over my heart. I couldn’t believe those words actually whispered in my mind, seething words I have never spoken, never even thought before, but there they were, in an instant. I put my phone down and pulled Justice into my arms and fled to the closet where he sleeps. There, wrapped in darkness, I could let the flood loose of angry tears. I held him close, bouncing him to sleep, Justice in my arms while I cried out aloud to God,
Where is JUSTICE in all this? How is this okay? How can you let this happen?
From somewhere, all the dozens of similar stories filled my mind. Women hurt by men.
Just last night Jeff and I had sat up late talking about his sermon series. It has been my favorite one he’s ever done—the Mothers of Jesus. Each week he’s been preaching on one of the 5 women in Jesus’ lineage. Tamar. Rahab. Ruth. Bathsheba. Mary. He’s done a phenomenal job. He is truly a man who passionately pursues the good of women, who takes seriously his role of protector and provider. And not just in theory, I have seen him act heroically, in practical ways, on behalf of the vulnerable. It’s one of the things I love about him most.
So when I asked him, last night, “What’d you think about today?” He responded,
“Bathsheba.”
We both sighed. Long silence. Yes. Bathsheba. Another story of so much incredible heartache. The victim of power’s lust, she not only lost her husband, through manipulated murder, but she lost her precious child because of a sin not her own. Yes, she got to be in the lineage of the Messiah, but in her own lifetime she knew bitter sorrow.
But you know…I’ve never actually gotten angry reading those stories in the Bible. I’ve been mildly bothered, but not upset. I’m not, in general, an angry person. I don’t hate anyone. As a whole, I just generally like people. I’ve never been wronged in a way that’s made me enraged.
But what about when someone we love, fiercely love, is hurt? What about when you have to sit back and watch some of your most loved people in the world be treated cruelly?
What if Bathsheba was your best friend and you had snuggled that sweet child in your own arms before he died?
The truth is: It’s one thing to forgive something done to us, but when those we love are wronged, that mama bear protective tendency comes roaring out of nowhere and wants to literally devour the wrongdoer.
What do we DO with that?
The answer, I think, is Christmas. It’s remembering what God DID with that and DOES with that and WILL DO with that.
I love all the coziness of Christmas, but really—Jesus is Justice. Jesus is the birth of God’s justice, the “answer” if you will to all the profound wrongs of this world, the gift to every Bathsheba and every David. The gift to every victim and every perpetrator. We all need a Savior, and it isn’t that we’re all just one vague mess of sin. We each of us sins specifically, and it’s not all the same as if individual wrongs don’t matter. They do. And that’s just it.
Anger, burning hot boiling anger, is the right response to sin.
But not just to his. Or hers.
To mine.
In that dark closet, with tears streaming down my face, God showed me how my sin equally contributes to the heartache of this world. My own pride and selfishness are just seed form of the same gnarly vicious weed rearing its ugly head out in the world.
How can I plead for mercy and demand justice all in the same breath?
But I do. And miraculously, that’s what He gives.
Jesus is the Justice and Mercy of God, born as a vulnerable babe, to bear the ultimate injustice and give the ultimate mercy.
He, in His life and death, satisfies the justice of God and extends the mercy of God.
That’s what He did at Christmas.
And what He does, daily, in our lives, by redeeming what seems unredeemable. Rescuing the hopelessly lost. Resurrecting the long-dead.
And what He will do, in perfect fullness. Every wrong righted. Every tear wiped away. We will likely be appalled at how hopelessly skewed our perspective had been. This will most certainly not be the time where we demand God give account of his dealings during our life. I dare say there will be none of that. Scales will fall from our eyes and we’ll be mind-blown that God even let us LIVE.
And our hate will seem absurd, in light of all this. If only we could glimpse into His glory, how right and perfect and just and gracious and holy and beautiful is the Kingdom of God, we could freely forgive the greatest griefs and live above the fray.
That is, live something like this:
But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tuniceither. Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.
If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
We need Christmas more than ever before. Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her King.
When you need a hard reset…
This week I had the joy of curling up on the couch across from a dear friend, steaming cups of tea in hands, and a sweet squishy baby between us. It’d been a long time, and it was pure joy to hear her story. In person. Face to face. It’s so much better than liking a picture or even reading a post. The sharing of our lives and stories, in person, renews my soul like nothing else. God is such a creative, relentless pursuer of hearts. He’s always on the move. Everything He touches is changed. He makes all things new.
One of the things we talked about, as it related to both of our lives, was the supernatural power of Sabbath. We have both observed a prescribed, prolonged period of rest from previous ways of life, and the result has been healing, wholeness, peace, renewal, vision, focus.
In a word, Revival.
I was so grateful to take 2018 completely off from speaking. I also stepped away from writing, and my other formal leadership roles. I had the joy of just simply being.
Of course, God knew the timing would be perfect. This year brought relational demands that would require my whole heart, mind, and attention. I was so grateful to have the bandwidth to devote my heart to those I love so deeply. This year also brought a baby…a pretty big time commitment. 🙂 It also happened to be the start of the seventh year of our Renew Church adventure, so the timing seemed significant.
Over the years, I’ve reflected on the idea of Sabbath in various ways. It remains interesting to me that this is the one commandment we seem to completely disregard. In the famous Isaiah 58 passage, we constantly quote the part of about loosing the chains of injustice, but never follow the passage all the way to the equally strong exhortation regarding honoring of the Sabbath.
In the New Testament, Jesus rebukes people because they had completely missed the point of Sabbath. Similarly, I’ve often heard that Sabbath is simply “doing whatever makes you happy or brings you joy” and yet God clearly says that honoring it is “not going your own way and not doing as you please or speaking idle words.” It feels offensive to us that even our “day off” must come under the authority of and direction of One greater than us.
God wants our work days and our rest days to be consecrated to Him completely. Why? And here is where, I believe, the disconnect comes:
Because God actually knows what is best for us.
The very end of Isaiah 58, after the strong exhortations about justice and Sabbath, this is the promise:
then you will find your joy in the Lord,
and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.
Yes, God wants us to have JOY, but He knows that if we pursue it directly we won’t find it. Only as we seek first the kingdom will “all these things” be added.
Do you want joy? Work tirelessly for others. Speak up on behalf of the voiceless. Feed the hungry, house the homeless. Refuse to point the finger or speak maliciously. And, in humble submission to the good plans of the Good Good Father … Rest.
I recently had to get a new (hand-me-down) phone, as my old one quit. It took awhile to power down, transfer over, and start up in the new phone. It was a hard reset.
The Sabbath is the hard reset. It is not just a nap, or a glass or wine or a game of golf or sleeping in once in a while. It isn’t merely a natural thing. Sabbath is a supernatural secret, a choosing to come into agreement with an authority above you, and recognize that He knows how best to live.
For Israel, every 7th year was the Sabbath year. Even the ground got a break. No tilling, planting, harvesting.
A hard reset.
And the result: More fruitfulness. More harvest. Renewal. Even the land needs revival.
Now, as 2018 comes to a close (I actually reached my “1-year off” mark last weekend), I’m slowly reintroducing items into life. Some things, like useless apps on my old phone, are gone for good. A few new habits have found their way into my day (learning guitar!), and more than anything I want to continue to give the lionshare of my time and attention to relationships right in front of me. My man, kids, our parents, church family. Our widowed neighbors.
Face to face. Shoulder to shoulder. Looking in the whites of each other’s eyes.
So, nothing earth-shattering here, but it’s been so long since I’ve said hello in this space, I wanted to give a quick update, and explain that I’ll be in and out occasionally in this coming year. One goal is to revisit the archives more often and share some sweet nuggets from years past. For now, Merry Christmas. Hug your people. Have your next political discussion in person, not online. Smile. Pray. Go to bed by 9pm. Sip tea. Read your Bible. Go for a walk. Skip the extra cookie. Hold a squishy baby. Visit someone who’s lonely.
Sit on the couch, sip tea, join hands, and pray with a friend.
Joy to the world.
5 things your kids want you to know
I recently sat on the couch with another homeschooling friend and discussed the kind of moms we want to be. There’s so much pressure out there to be more and do more, to hustle, hurry, achieve. But I always find myself returning to this simple question that helps center my spirit:
If I were a child, what kind of mom would I want?
I usually arrive at something like this: I’d like a mom who’s warm and kind, who isn’t in a hurry, who listens to my stories and admires my artwork, who smiles and helps me when I need it. I’d like a mom who’s a little bit squishy when I hug her and isn’t too worried about stuff, who teaches me how to live without getting too angry when I mess up. I’d like a mom who genuinely enjoys being my mom.
It’s interesting to note that children, for the most part, don’t want a mom who’s a certain weight, who looks a certain way, who has a certain size house or a certain job or makes a certain amount of money.
Children have a way of reminding us what really matters.
Along these same lines, I thought, If I were a child, what kind of homeschool would I want? Better yet, what do my actual children want? I had a feeling that a “Pinterest-worthy schoolroom” wasn’t high on their list.
So, out of curiosity, I interviewed my sixth and fourth graders and asked them, “If you could represent all kids, and share five things with homeschooling parents, what would you say? What makes for a great homeschool?”
This is what they said: Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool! Thanks for reading!
Oregon friends: Vote
Last week in the US:
- 13 mail bombs were sent to political officials.
- While my husband was in Louisville this week, a white supremacist entered a grocery store and killed two African Americans.
- A man opened fire in a synagogue shouting “All Jews must die,” killing 11.
- Approximately 21,000 innocent babies were aborted.
Each of last week’s tragedies have something in common: Someone seeking to do away with what he perceives as a “problem.”
Democrats, blacks, Jews, unborn babies.
Of course, in no way am I implying that an overwhelmed pregnant woman is the same as a hate-crazed racist, certainly not. But in each instance we see the natural outworking of sin—believing others’ lives are worth less than our own.
Thinking that “they” are the problem. We each have our own ideas of who the problematic “they” are.
But the root is the same, and sadly, that same root is found in my own heart too: A refusal to see my own sin.
Right now I’m being ruined, once again, by looking at the life of Mother Teresa, as displayed on the pages of Finding Calcutta. Mary Poplin writes,
“The [Calcutta] missionaries look deeply inside themselves for the remaining vestiges of jealously, greed, anger and other sings, and then confess them. They do not look outside to see the cause of the world’s problems; they look inside first. Clarifying what is inside helps to understand what is outside. The heart is only a tiny mirror of the world I so often bemoan.”
Yes. Yes, it is. My own heart that wants its own way, that resents inconveniences and demands certain circumstances. My own heart that wants Jesus, but that wrestles with having to give up my own way.
It may manifest itself as premeditated murder or deliberate shoulder-shrugging indifference, but either way, I place my own life above all others.
I do it. You do it. We’re all caught red-handed, daily. As G.K. Chesterton remarked,
“Sin is the most empirically proven principle in Christianity.”
Every single day we prove it.
And every single day Christ offers a better way.
I cannot solve all the world’s problems, but I can deal honestly with the sin in my own heart. I can repent. I can seek restoration. I can humble myself.
And, if I am an Oregonian, this week I can VOTE.
If I am an Oregonian, I can “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed.” (Prov.31:8). Right now, Oregon is the only state in the US that has no restrictions on abortion.
“No restrictions” to an unborn child, means “no protection.”
No protection, whatsoever, to the most vulnerable people group in the world. To the most voiceless.
Those who literally cannot speak for themselves.
There are extensive (and expensive!) measures taken to protect various plants, bird eggs, and various animal species, while we actually provide funds to end human life. In fact, nearly 2 million dollars from out-of-state political groups is being funneled into our state to make sure these unborn babies don’t get protected. To make sure that anyone can still, for no reason at all and for no cost, kill a child all the way up until the moment it is born.
If ever there was a calculated, deliberate, focused attack on a certain people group, this is it.
Of course, Measure 106 does not end abortion, but it is a step in the right direction. Of course, legislation won’t change hearts, it isn’t meant to, but legislation can protect the most vulnerable, and we should use the freedom that we have to speak up for them.
Of course, we shouldn’t only vote. Let us also pray, love, give, volunteer, support. But let’s at least vote.
{Thank you for caring, and reading.}
To you, that one weary from caring
“Mommy, that bird!”
Heidi ran down the stairs to the center of the driveway, bent over the broken feathered friend.
Truth be told, I had already seen the bird. But I was eager to finish my walk, I was weary from so much brokenness already, and my compassion-well was bone dry. Besides, it was a bird.
I walked a little closer and it was clear what had happened — just a few feet away our housemates’ cat crouched, ready to finish the job. Heidi placed herself between the bird and the predator.
“His wing is broken, we have to help!”
Compelled by compassion, she swooped in, urging the bird into a bucket, something to keep him safe. But of course, we all know what happened:
Whenever you move toward the wounded they flail, flee, fearful of the very one who offers safety.
Blind to the greater danger just out of sight.
The cat came nearer, creeping ever closer … Heidi turned toward it, ready to defend the weak:
“No, go away!”
With greater intensity she prodded the flailing bird into the container, trying to be gentle but also recognizing the danger of leaving this little creature alone.
Time was of the essence.
Even as I leaned in to help, I saw the bird resisting her nudges, moving against her. I could only imagine if that bird could articulate how he felt:
Ouch! Don’t poke me! You’re doing it wrong! Stop! I hate you. You’re the problem! Leave me alone!
I blinked back tears.
The cat kept close. Ever ready to pounce. The bird, unaware, kept fighting.
Once the bird was out of immediate peril, Dutch and Heidi quickly created a nest, a safe place, in a cage we had on hand.
The cage, those parameters, weren’t meant to confine or control, they had to keep that broken bird safe.
Oh, little bird, you aren’t in trouble, you’re in danger.
Ever eager to help, they quickly researched eating habits, how to best help this thrush.
Consumed with compassion, they gave all their effort to helping it heal.
Heidi happily dug up worms. Every few hours, she’d return to the cage, feed her feathered friend.
His well-being was never far from her mind.
I watched. Wishing with everything in me that this might turn out well.
The next day, the thrush died.
Thankfully, Heidi took it well. Better than me in my own broken-bird situations.
Hadn’t I just sat, tears blurring my vision, pouring out heartache over all the wounded ones? A complicated mixture of frustration, hurt, grief, ache, sorrow. Tinges of hopelessness mingled in, a little bit of wanting to give up.
Why help the broken, when all you get is a broken heart?
After drying my tears, I walked downstairs, saw Heidi sitting there caring for her own kitten. Her compassion still flowing freely, untainted by the previous day’s loss. Sure, the thrush had died, but were her efforts wasted?
Of course not. She’d done right. Done well. I was so proud. And, her heart grew in the process.
Every time we love, truly love, we grow. Our capacity widens, deepens, heightens, reaches farther into the dark crevices and undoes the Evil One’s work.
Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)
Remember this: Whoever turns a sinner from the error of their way will save them from death and cover over a multitude of sins. (James 5:20)
And I thought of you. You who are weary of helping and being blamed in the process. You who are tired but get back up and try again. You who are quietly bearing burdens. You, silent wife, who are trying to honor your husband but your eyes cry out pain louder than any words can say. You, faithful mama, who agonize over what’s best for your kids, and wonder how to heal their hearts. You, aging parent, who watch young ones from a distance and wish you could swoop in and save. You, bereaved one, who move outside your own pain in order to selflessly serve others. You, friend battling disease, who aren’t defined by your diagnosis but who chooses to fight every day. You, faithful non-profit worker, who quietly works behind the scenes so others can thrive.
You, who care. You who pick up the broken-winged birds. Who dig up worms and visit cages.
You who carry the wounded on your heart all day long.
There’s a whole army of you out there, I know. And you are seen. The God Who Sees (Gen. 16:13) has seen and He is never aloof. He never gets compassion-fatigue. He never runs out of grace and peace and mercy and patience and if you will slow down and sink into His presence, He will fill you afresh.
You get to be part of the Fellowship of the Brokenhearted.
This isn’t to make a hero of you, of me, it’s just to say: Don’t give up. Draw again from His well, His unlimited supply, His eternal resources extended to us if we ask. Don’t attempt all this in your own strength. Roll ever burden, all over again, onto Him. And if you are hated in the process, remember, He was too.
There’s nothing you will face that He hasn’t already.
Don’t let the darkness win. Light always overcomes. Keep wielding the light, dear friend.
Oh, and take a nap too. That’ll help.
{Thanks for reading.}
When your heart is overwhelmed…
The text popped up and my heart sank. Again. What is wrong with this crazy world?! It just seemed that everywhere I looked, things were not as they should be. Why are so many things so very wrong? Why do people make such terrible decisions? Why are children’s heart’s broken?
That morning Jeff preached on our response to trials and injustice, and he specified:
“I’m not talking about the injustices you tweet about, I mean the ones you lose sleep about. The ones that keep you up at night and break your heart. Those injustices.”
Usually those are the ones close to home. The ones that touch your own heart, the ones in your own path.
Like the Good Samaritan, these are the tragedies and injustices lying in the road right in front of us.
These are our neighbors.
And then, he exhorted us, “If there are never injustices that keep you up at night, you probably should get more involved in people’s lives.”
That struck me. Yes. The heartache we feel when we enter the nitty-gritty of life with people, is appropriate. Jesus’ heart broke as he walked with wayward and weary and sick and sinning individuals. He was the Son of God. He knew the end of the story. And yet He wept over Lazarus. Over Jerusalem.
And yet, He was never overwhelmed. He never lost hope or slipped into cynicism or threw up his hands. How?
Among many other things, I believe He spread it all out before the LORD.
Just the day before I had read Isaiah 37, and found so much comfort in the familiar story of Sennacherib and his threats against King Hezekiah and the people of God. As you may recall, Sennacherib is hurling threats, and recounting all the kings he’s already conquered, mocking King Hezekiah and promising his swift destruction.
Specifically, Sennacherib mocks their trust in God. He says,
“Do not let your God, in whom you trust, deceive you…”
He is blatantly attacking their trust in God, and building a case for why exactly they should cast off their confidence and surrender.
This is exactly what our enemy does to us.
He brings to mind all the lands that have already been conquered, so speak. All the kings that are already dead. He whispers to our weary hearts, “What about THAT thing that happened? Or that unanswered prayer? Where was God when that horrible thing took place? Look around and see all the areas that I, the Evil One, have already won. Why would you believe God will act now?”
His mission is always the same: Operation Destroy-Hope.
And so the case builds and our confidence crumbles. We reel. Our eyes dart to and fro. We panic. We plan. We despair. But King Hezekiah doesn’t do any of that. When he received the letter from Sennacherib, he didn’t panic, plan, gather the troops or begin devising some masterful military strategy.
What did He do? I can picture him now. He took a deep breath, slowly walked away, and went and spread the letter before the Lord.
He spread the situation out before the Lord.
One small expression that speaks so much. It says:
You are God, I am not.
We need you.
This is Your battle.
Fight for Your people.
Hezekiah then appeals to God in prayer, and it’s clear that what matters most is the glory of God:
“Now therefore, O Lord our God, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that You are the Lord, You alone. (v.20)”
I’m not sure why this image affects me so deeply, but perhaps it’s because so many situations feel so complex. Our minds can swim with scenarios. I’m sure Hezekiah felt this too. But He resisted the temptation to let his mind go wild into overwhelm, and instead he just spread it all out before the YAHWEH, the Lord of heaven and earth, the Creator God.
The only One with the wisdom and power to take this on.
This is such a practical step that any one of us can do. So I did this, just listed out and laid out all the things that weigh on my heart and mind. One by one, spreading them all out before the Lord. One by one, recognizing:
You are God, I am not.
We need you.
This is Your battle.
Fight for Your people.
Just a few verses later, the prophet Isaiah sends word to Hezekiah:
“Thus says the Lord God of Israel, ‘Because you have prayed to Me against Sennacherib king of Assyria, this is the word which the Lord has spoken concerning him…”
And then the short version is: I’m going to wipe him out without you even having to fight. What happens?
Then the angel of the Lord went out, and killed in the camp of the Assyrians one hundred and eighty-five thousand; and when people arose early in the morning, there were the corpses—all dead. So Sennacherib king of Assyria departed and went away, returned home, and remained at Nineveh. Now it came to pass, as he was worshiping in the house of Nisroch his god, that his sons Adrammelech and Sharezer struck him down with the sword; and they escaped into the land of Ararat. Then Esarhaddon his son reigned in his place.
The LORD of hosts took care of the entire situation, single-handedly. Hezekiah didn’t even need to suit up for battle. The LORD fought for them. I too was amazed to find that just hours later, several situations had worked themselves entirely out.
And the ones that remain? I will continue to spread them out before the LORD. The only God.
“No eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.” (Is. 64:4)
What are you facing? What battles? What enemy that hurls threats your way and mocks your faith and taunts you with a solid case for why you shouldn’t trust God? Where are you tempted to tailspin down into overwhelm? Take every emotion, every situation, every ache and need and battle, and spread it out before Him. Lay it before Him; remind your heart that the battle is His.
“From the end of the earth I will cry to You, When my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” Ps. 61:2
{Thanks for reading.}
A prayer for our, and perhaps your, children…
I love this time of year: My feed is full of first-day-of-school photos. Bright-eyed littles holding sign-boards showing their grade, new clothes and combed hair and eager anticipation of the year brimming with opportunity. I admit, homeschooling is a little anticlimactic in that department. No new clothes nor combed hair (ha!), and my kids are never quite sure which grade they are in. 😉 BUT, I still love this time of year, and no matter how you educate, it is a sacred season for considering the year ahead that is, without a doubt, brim-full of opportunity.
I recently had a sweet conversation thread going with a dear group of ladies–my college roommates. We shared a house, and there was no shortage of laughter, clothes-swapping, male-visitors (I married one!), and chocolate chips cookies. We’ve stayed in touch over the last 20 years and we now have 33 children between us (!). It is no small miracle we have managed to stay connected over the years.
Recently, one girl suggested we share with each other our prayers for our children’s upcoming school year. Another Mama went first, and just reading her precious heart-felt prayer for her children re-lit a fire in my own heart to earnestly intercede for my kids this year. I realized that because I don’t send my kids “out into the world” each September, I don’t sense the same urgency, or keen sense of need (or whatever you might call it) to pray for my children. I mean, I pray for them, but they’re also RIGHT BY MY SIDE EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF THE DAY and so… just sayin’…sometimes they’re so close it’s easy to neglect covering them heavily in prayer.
I’m also re-reading one of my favorite prayer books, A Praying Life, by Paul Miller, along with my sister-in-law. I was struck afresh by this page:
I think perhaps, because I’m with my kids all day, I can often look to my own resources, ingenuity, or methods to modify their behavior or address some issue. But when I acknowledge the truth that only God can change their hearts, then I will tackle these issues more effectively: In prayer.
So, I wrote out my 2018-2019 prayers for my children, sent to my sweet sisters in an email, and thought I’d just copy and paste with y’all too, in case it can be encouraging to you as well as you pray for your own children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or any other children God has entrusted to your care.