A Love Story
There once was a husband and wife. They had a simple life together, and were happily married. They spent time together doing the normal routines of life, and felt very content.
One day, the woman was out with some new girlfriends, who were talking about an exotic vacation they’d taken with their husbands. It sounded super romantic and exciting, and the ladies were gushing about how amazing it had been.
The wife went home, and her house seemed a bit more drab than before. Her husband arrived home and greeted her with his usual warm smile and hug, but she wistfully looked past him, still thinking of the romantic vacation she’d heard about that day. She silently mused while she cooked dinner, “Why doesn’t he take me on an exciting vacation?” That night on their evening walk, she seemed disinterested and discontent. Her husband was patient, giving her space, content to wait until she was back to herself again.
He always wrote her notes. Throughout their whole marriage he’d written her a simple note each day, reminding her of his love for her. Before, she’d enjoyed seeing these notes each day, and she’d read and re-read them, grateful.
Now, she found herself ignoring them, eager to find out more about the exciting, romantic escapades these other couples had. She found herself following their Facebook pages, thumbing through their photos, enamored with their experiences. She read more about these exotic locales, and what sorts of vacation packages they offered couples. She noticed that their husbands always looked well-dressed and handsome, smiling and laughing. She began to spend more time with these women and ask them more about their intriguing lives. The other women loved the attention, so happy for the affirmation that they were doing marriage right. They talked about their exciting bedroom-experiences, about their glamorous date-nights, the goose-bump romance they experienced all the time. Nothing about their words was wrong, but the woman always left feeling like she must be missing out on something more.
She also found herself increasingly critical and discontent with her husband. Each night, he’d come home, eager to spend time with her doing their simple nightly routine. He soon realized his notes to her were going unread. She started suggesting he dress different. She suggested he go on a diet. She also seemed anxious about her own appearance and unhappy with their life. She started dressing like the other women, and mimicking their hairstyles and mannerisms. Plus, she wouldn’t stop obsessing over those exotic vacation experiences.
“Why don’t you ever take me to fancy restaurants? Why don’t we have wild, passionate sex all the time? Why don’t we take exotic vacations and have romantic goosebumps experiences all the time? What’s wrong with us? I wish we had a marriage like those other people do.”
The husband, ever patient, wept over her words and the sadness in his wife’s heart. He pleaded with her:
“I love you. I want you. I want you more than an experience. I want you more than a spectacular encounter with you. I love you more than anything. You’re my bride. Perhaps someday we’ll enjoy something spectacular together, but more than anything I just long for us to love each other for who we are.”
He looked her in the eye and asked,
“Do you want me or do you want an certain experience that involves me? I long to be loved, just like you do, for who you are, not simply for your potential for giving me a certain experience.”
His words cut, but helped her see clearly. Though it was hard, she knew what she needed to do. Those friends weren’t evil, but they just weren’t helpful to her. Their experiences were simply that. Their experiences.
She unfollowed their pages. She kindly declined invitations. She pulled away from all influences that took away from her pure love for her husband. She quit comparing her experiences to others, she quit comparing her husband to theirs. She immersed herself in the truth about how GOOD her husband was to her, and how kind, gentle, and loving he had always been. Of course, she would still welcome an exciting experience together, but she found herself so overwhelmed with love for him, that that was enough.
The anthem of her heart toward her husband was, “You are enough for me.”
Over their lifetimes, they experienced both excitement and sorrow. They were able to enjoy a beautiful vacation to Hawaii, and even splurged for a few date nights out on the town. But the beauty was that those things were no longer what she sought. She just sought him. And so, she stayed by him even during trying years, when there was no money for exciting vacations, when times were hard.
And finally, in the end, when he was aged and needed full-time care, she was able to faithfully love him to the end, even when it was hard, even when it was painful, even when there was a cost. The years of faithful devotion during ordinary days had forged a bond so sure that nothing could jeopardize their love.
It lasted forever.
“This mystery is great, but I am speaking with reference to to Christ and the Church.” Eph. 5:32
{Thanks for reading.}
Marie
I shared on Friday about my experience hearing from God, through Kat.
Well, just a few days later, we were hundreds of miles away from there, visiting family in Arizona. The first morning there, I went out for my usual walk. I was praying about all that I’d been processing over the past few months. On the one hand, this freedom from Mystic was really shaking things up. I knew I was to no longer just seek experiences with God, but to seek God. But with that, I also wanted to be careful that I didn’t swing too far the other direction, that I didn’t neglect walking by the Spirit and responding to the Spirit, that I would stay sensitive to God’s voice, no matter how quiet or unspectacular. Kat had taught me how profoundly we can impact people when we simply and gently relay God’s heart, words, and love to people in a supernatural way.
So that morning, as I went on my walk, I saw her: An elderly lady shuffling along with a walker. She looked up, smiled, and waved. I smiled and waved back and wondered if I should stop and talk to her, or pray for her, but it seemed weird so I just kept walking.
Forty minutes later, on my way back, I turned the corner and there she was again, this time sitting down on a park bench. This time I knew I could easily walk up to her and just say hello and be kind and friendly. So, as I walked toward her, I silently prayed, “God, give me your heart for her. Give me your love for her.”
And immediately, I heard it so crystal clear in my heart: “She’s lost a son.”
Oh. Of course immediately I felt for her, compassion and so sorry for what she must have suffered. But I also felt a tad nervous–was it weird to ask a lady a question like that? But I knew God wanted to use this word of knowledge to show her His love, to show her that He cared enough about her to tell someone else about her pain.
“Hi there.” It was bright so I came and kneeled down on the grass in front of her so I could look up into her eyes. Her name was Marie, and we chatted a little bit, about the sunshine and how nice it was to be able to walk.
“Marie, may I ask you a question.” She said yes.
“Did you lose a son?”
Her face immediately grew sad. “Yes,” she responded. “He was only 19 years old. I miss him so much every day. Life is good but I feel so sad every day. I miss him.”
I hugged her.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. I can’t imagine how awful that would be. I just want you to know that God loves you so much that He told me about your son, so that I could come over here and hug you and pray for you. Can I pray for you?”
She beamed and said yes. We talked a bit more about her son, and I noticed the “I love Jared” pin on her hat. Yes, she said, Jared was her son. I prayed for her, and we talked awhile longer, able to instantly speak of hard things, deep things, real things. It’s amazing how simple it is to go from chit-chat to deep-down heart-stuff when there’s a word of knowledge from God that instantly brings everything to the surface.
Eventually, I left. We hugged several times, and the whole ordeal was over. I went back home and began doing my day–making breakfast, folding laundry, doing our usual routine. But I was different. I was touched by Marie, by her joy in the midst of sorrow, and by how good our God is that He’d be willing to speak to me, in order to encourage us both.
Two days later, I ran into Marie again. We talked more about her son, about our good God. We hugged, like old friends, and I asked if I could take a photo of us. She beamed. Yes.
And so Marie and I are friends, because God cared enough to speak and show His love for us both.
{Thanks for reading.}
Kat
The session had just ended, so we were filing out of the aisle, ready to exit the auditorium, along with the 2,000 other people attending the conference, when she timidly approached me with a smile. Her eyes were kind, and she seemed shy and a bit nervous too.
“Could I share something with you?”
We stepped out of the way of the crowd. She shifted on her feet, explaining, “I really don’t have anything profound to say, and I’m not very good at this, I’m just trying to be obedient to God.” I smiled and encouraged her that she didn’t need to say anything profound, I was up for anything she had to share! She slowly began,
“Well, these past two days I’ve been watching you, you and your husband here with your kids, and I feel like God wants me to tell you something.”
I was all ears.
And then she spoke, the simplest sentence of encouragement, but as soon as I heard it something broke inside and I just wept. It was exactly the affirmation my heart needed, that only God could know that I needed, exactly the word that lifted my weary heart and affirmed the mundane worship I offer to Him each day.
She went on with other things, and prayed for me, which was so kind and thoughtful. I could tell she truly cared about me, I could feel the Father’s love through her. I went home tear-stained, but full and encouraged. Sure, the conference had many famous speakers standing on the stage, some of which traveled across the world just to be there, but the most powerful words for me were from the mouth of a simple, timid girl who was willing to walk across the room, to risk, in order to show me God’s love.
I typed an email to some friends, sharing my experience, and wrote, “this experience encouraged me that often the greatest moves of the Spirit are simple, quiet, ordinary. And that He can use simple, ordinary people, just like us, to tremendously encourage others. I want to be like Kat.”
Often we think of prophecy, or words of knowledge (1 Cor. 12:8), as spectacular and dramatic, and perhaps they sometimes are. But my experience with Kat inspired me even more to listen carefully for His voice in the midst of ordinary life. It might be ordinary me, or ordinary you, who God wants to use to profoundly encourage someone today.
In fact, I would see this play out just a few days later … More on Monday. Thanks for reading!}
More than a cheering fan
I mentioned before that one of the key things that broke free when Mystic left was judging things by outward appearance.
Strangely enough, this epiphany came clearly through a simple conversation about a professional basketball team. A friend of mine was going to a game with her extended family, and she was explaining that they had box-seats and some fun luxuries to enjoy during the game.
“Oh wow, they have box seats?” I inquired.
She paused and smiled, “Well, you know, he owns the team.”
Haha! Ah yes! I had completely forgotten who this particular relative was. He owns this professional basketball team. Yeah, so, he can probably sit wherever he wants.
The thing is, before the fast I had often been discouraged because our church congregation (or Bible study, or retreat participants, or whoever) haven’t seemed “receptive” enough. They didn’t have enough enthusiasm. They didn’t look excited. What’s wrong with these people? Why weren’t they more demonstrative? I compared the scenario to a professional sporting event, where people are screaming and cheering and willing to make fools of themselves to cheer for their team. Why weren’t these congregants like cheering fans?! Why weren’t they willing to show some enthusiasm? Surely the most committed fans were the ones making the most noise.
Right?
The picture of my friend’s relative brought this into perspective. The truth is, No, you cannot tell the committed fans by who screams the loudest. A painted chest speaks of enthusiasm, to be sure, but it doesn’t necessarily speak of commitment. It doesn’t necessarily speak of faithfulness. It simply speaks that that person enjoys very visible displays of affection. Obviously the owner of the team has made MUCH more of a commitment to the team. He has invested deeply in the team.
He is, you might say, the biggest fan.
And he might actually be very quiet. Or not. That’s his personality. His commitment, his devotion, his faithfulness and loyalty is separate from his personality.
Certainly, our relationship with God should and will affect our emotions, anything we truly love will impact every part of our being. But as outsiders looking in, who are we to judge a person’s commitment based on the volume of their voice?
Jesus is looking for followers, not fans.
The same crowd that shouted Hosanna! shouted Crucify Him! just a few days later. We needn’t scream our heads off, paint our chests, or worry our little heads with whether or not we or those around us are demonstrative enough. This certainly doesn’t not condone a passionless or apathetic response to Christ. Exactly the opposite! Jesus calls us to something so much greater than shouting contests. He calls us to leave our lives—everything—behind and follow Him. Only He knows the level of our commitment. Let’s invest our all, and the decibel of our devotion will be heard in heaven, by the One whose opinion matters most.
{Thanks for reading.}
How Mystic’s absence is setting me free…
I mentioned here about the Mystic/Dominic dream my friend had during our 40-day fast, and here about how I felt after God freed my heart from Mystic’s influence. This one simple shift has impacted so many aspects of my life, I feel like I’m seeing fruit of it left and right. I’m telling you, that lady was everywhere! 😉 I know it might not apply to you, but I feel like it’s worth sharing, just in case.
In some ways, it seems like such a small thing—exchanging a desire for experiences with God for a desire for God, allowing Him to birth His work in us however it looks, however He pleases. But it affects everything. Most significantly, I’ve noticed that Mystic’s absence has brought a newfound freedom and joy in leadership.
Close friends know that I don’t actually love leading. It isn’t my primary spiritual gift. I’d much rather hole up and read or write, or prepare a message and teach. And yet, leadership is where I often find myself, so I’ve wrestled over the years with this oft-experienced feeling of dread, before leading Bible study, a small group, church services, even a prayer meeting.
The weight of responsibility feels so heavy.
Part of that is appropriate, we should feel the weight of something as important as shepherding people, but still it seemed like something could be different. For example, I was always the one suggesting we take a break from Bible study. I was always the one suggesting we have an off-week. I was always the one leaning towards cancelling if some people couldn’t make it. Though I hate to admit it, I was eager to “get out of” leadership opportunities. I just figured it was a normal part of leadership, but, strangely enough, it had to do with Mystic.
I really had no idea this pressure was upon me, but I see it now. A subtle pressure from the skewed belief that I’m just a little bit responsible for producing a certain experience for those who I lead. Did I pray enough? Did I prepare enough? What if everything I say seems to fall flat? What if no one responds? What if they all walk away like, “Huh, that wasn’t very impactful.” What if people yawn??
The slightest skewed perspective can produce devastating results. A subtle pressure exerted on our hearts and minds over time, can be deadly. It can slowly push us over the edge.
Now, of course, there is a role we play as leaders. If we neglect prayer, neglect prep, neglect our hearts and ignore God’s leading, we cannot expect Him to do a powerful work in our midst. He often still does, He is eternally gracious, but we are certainly responsible to obey Him in any way He calls us to prepare.
But that’s just it. We obey Him in all things, in the unseen, in the ways that might not even see directly related to the upcoming event.
There’s freedom. My efforts can be focused on simply obeying my Father, not working to produce some certain experience or result.
With mystic gone, there’s JOY in leadership. It’s not up to me! It’s all Him! And I don’t have produce some emotional experience for people. As we are faithful to the Father, fervent in prayer, and we present the truth of the Gospel and the power and love of Jesus Christ, lives will change.
If we have to add some spice or extra glitz to the gospel, we expose our underlying belief that the gospel isn’t enough.
But it is. Jesus Christ is enough. The only secret sauce is Him. The Wow is already baked in.
And we release its full power by simply believing that He is enough. For us, for them. The load of leadership becomes light because the burden is His.
{May there be freedom for you this week. Thanks for reading.}
How things look up…
Hello from California! We’re continuing along our road trip and I wanted to share some musings and reflections from earlier this week. Just a quick thought here, lots more to come!
This is our fifth year making the long trek down south, and we’ve learned a few things from these family vacations over the years. The first is this: The more God-made things we can enjoy, the better. That is, we’ll choose God-made stuff over man-made stuff every time. National Parks over Amusement Parks, trees over rides, hikes over trams, campgrounds over hotels, home-cooked meals over fast-food. Not knocking those other things at all, every family’s different, just saying we’ve discovered that we flourish when we surround ourselves with stuff that’s closer to Creation. It’s slower. We’re happier.
Clearly we only go so far in this, however. We drove here. We didn’t sleep on the ground. We used navigation systems on our iphones. I’m typing on a laptop. The kids are watching Anne of Green Gables in the backseat.
But even right now as I type these words, we are driving away from the Redwood Forest, headed inland, toward a city. And my heart sinks just a little that we have to leave the land of majestic trees, of silent forests and endless trails, of cool shady coves and secluded picnic spots.
When I was in my overwhelming funk, when I was feeling sick and miserable, when I was grumpy and frustrated, we packed up a picnic and hiked through the Redwood forest.
And there, we looked up.
That’s how things look up.
Things look up when we do.
For me, God’s creation causes me to look up like nothing else. God’s Word, the precious people in my church family, and the glory of God’s natural world is what causes praise to spring up in my heart, what causes everything to fall into place, what brings back the perspective I so desperately need. Really, it’s just worship. The practice of worshipping is simply setting our gaze back on God. Returning to Him, remembering, reconnecting with Him, with truth.
Standing there, in the grove of God’s gigantic grace, I settle into my smallness and my heart kneels before the splendor of the King. He is God. I am not. He is good. Always. No matter how I feel, these trees declare His glory, and I find my peace and rest within His power. I can trust Him. He has told me He works all things for good. I don’t need to feel good to know this is true. I don’t have to feel anything in particular. I can just stand before these massive trees and know that He is unchanging, all powerful, all good.
I can rest in this.
I know that a cold is not a big deal. I wasn’t experiencing true suffering. But the principle is the same. Things look up when we do.
When we behold His greatness and tuck ourselves into the truth of who He is. This can happen anywhere, but it always requires a turning upward of our gaze. Up to His truth. Up to His love. Up to His heart.
This is worship. It changes everything.
I’m grateful for that little cold, and the big Redwoods, that brought this truth back to my heart.
{How can you look up today? Thanks for reading.}
How imperfections perfect.
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.
James 1:4
I had worked so hard to have everything perfect. I’d planned ahead, cooked ahead, packed and laundered and cleaned and … then I got sick. Noooo! We were leaving on our 19-day road trip and the day before I came down with a terrible cold and was so miserable I could barely get out of bed. Our first stop was in the Redwoods, where the forecast predicted 45-55 degree weather. And nonstop rain. Did I mention a tent-trailer?
As soon as church was out, the kids and I hurried home to finish the last minute preparations. Of course, everything took longer than I thought. Of course, by the time we got everything ready and pulled out the driveway I was already so exhausted I just wanted to turn right around and go back to bed.
Our ETA was 8pm. But then again, we were pulling a trailer, and it was pouring rain and dark by the time we wove our way through the curvy Redwood highway. By now I was already a little irked that we’d made three bathroom stops (I won’t name names) and I knew we were behind schedule and I was just so tired. I just wanted a warm bed.
By the time we wound through the final stretch of highway, I was beyond irritated. Jeff was driving so slow. I kept staring a hole in the speedometer. Sure, he was being safe. Sure, it was pouring rain, pitch black, and we were on one of the most dangerous stretches of highway. But really?!
Finally, we arrive. It’s almost 10pm. My head is pounding, I’m sneezing, my nose is raw and running, my throat’s burning. Now it’s time to set up camp, which takes us until 10:30pm. All I can think about is warmth. If I could just get warm. I knew we had a heater in the tent trailer, so I figured once we got curled up into bed, it’d be ok.
We crawl in under the cold covers. “The heat’s on, right Babe?” I check with Jeff. He assures me it is. It sure feels like cold air. I huddle under the blankets, and wait, hoping it will get warm soon. I can’t breathe through my nose. Maybe it will get warm soon.
It never did. It was just cold. Super wet and cold all night. I wake in the morning, more miserable than ever. Jeff goes out to check something, and when he returns he says, “Oh, I never turned on the propane last night. So the heat never turned on, it was just a fan.”
Right. It was just A FAN BLOWING COLD AIR ON US ALL NIGHT. That’s exactly what it felt like as I lay in bed blowing my nose and NOT SLEEPING.
I don’t even need to get into the rest of the morning, right? Ha! You mamas know that when camping, the normal routines of cooking and cleaning take ten times as much effort. Finding the food. The clothes. It’s pouring rain and the floor’s already covered in mud, my head is pounding, eyes are burning, nose running … ARE WE HAVING FUN YET??!!!
Eventually, of course, we find our food and groove. Jeff goes for his run. The kids get started on their school lessons, and I get curled up with a blanket and hot coffee.
Of course, the day gets better. We get out. We look up. Nothing like thousands of 300-foot-tall trees to remind you of your smallness, God’s bigness, and the proper perspective on our problems.
Although I still felt terrible physically, my eyes turned up and I knew this was good. Why? Because imperfection perfects. It is these mundane “sufferings” — the irritations and inconveniences that shape and mold us, that mature us, that perfect us. Just like God’s Word says. We seek spectacular, thrilling experiences but it’s these experiences that most often make us more like Jesus.
When I get home, Jeff takes the kids for some adventuring, and I get a quiet hour to curl up and prayerfully write—the process that always sharpens my focus and settles me back into peace.
And that night, between 7-8pm, I’m struck by how I begin to feel dramatically better. My headache goes away, my nose clears, my throat no longer hurts. And joy rises. I sleep like a baby (with the heat on!) and wake feeling completely better.
I’m so struck by the dramatic improvement, I consider what could have happened. Then I realize:
It was Monday night. It was 7-8pm.
The time of our church’s prayer meeting.
Yes. I knew it. They were praying for us.
Wow. Gratitude wells up in my heart, I send out texts, giving thanks. He allowed the imperfections to perfect me, bit by bit, making me more like His Son. And then, by His grace, He led His people to gather in a little humble group and bring about complete healing through their faithful intercession.
God is good. All the time.
{How are imperfections perfecting you today? Thanks for reading.}
What I left behind, and why.
Hello from Redwood National Forest! Yesterday we hitched up the tent trailer, and headed out on our annual road trip down to California-Arizona-Utah. This year we got brave (and frugal) and decided that instead of renting a house we’d bring our tent trailer instead. Yup — nineteen days and 3,040 miles in a tent trailer. In the not-Summer. With temps ranging from 40s to 90s. The jury’s definitely still out on whether this is a good idea. But hey, it’s an adventure!
We spent all day Saturday packing, and it’s quite entertaining considering the things each of us chooses to carry. We’re a quirky bunch. But that’s another post for another day.
For me, packing this time was very different for me in one significant way: I brought no books. None. Other than the Bible, there isn’t a single volume along with me here.
This might not seem like a huge deal to you, but it is to me. I’m a book lover. I could read all day. And usually, vacation (especially road trips) is when I devour the stack of books I’ve been longingly looking at for moths.
Books are my life-soundtrack. I remember certain trips because of the stories I read during them. I can still remember wiping away tears as I read Same Kind of Different As Me on the flight to Hawaii. I remember laughing so hard the other passengers were staring at me as I tore through Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. I remember The Glass Castle on the beach, and Half the Sky in Maui and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in the bench-seat of my dad’s truck. So many laughs and tears and the stories, pages, words, they have shaped so many seasons, especially on vacation.
But recently, I’ve sensed the Father urging me to push aside the stack of books. For one, it seems they are coming at me at an alarming rate. I just feel like there are so many books it can feel like a never-ending onslaught of book recommendations and “you HAVE to read” and “can’t wait to get my hands on” and I just. Cannot. Keep. Up.
Please hear my heart. I have loved these recommendations. I’m grateful for every moment spent savoring these words. But on our last camping trip of the summer, I was reading yet another great book, and it was relating the author’s journey of feeling frenzied, busy, overworking and neglecting her family. She was working on slowing down and enjoying the moment.
On the one hand, I couldn’t really relate that much. We’re actually not very busy. I sleep 8-9 hours a night. The kids and I stay home every weekday. I don’t feel hectic or stressed. I don’t feel driven or pushed to do more or be more. I have in years past, but not today. However, I loved the author’s honesty and transparency, and appreciated her story. So, of course, I wanted to finish the book.
But then. Here we sat, on this hidden-away beach the kids and I had found, along a beautiful lake, all by ourselves, where we picnicked and threw rocks and splashed in the water.
And they were playing happily so I pulled out my book. But immediately, it all seemed wrong. Here I was, enjoying the moment, but then I turned away in order to finish a book written to help people enjoy the moment.
Umm…?
Why not just … do it.
Then, as it were, scales seemed to fall.
I do this.
I’m a compulsive reader. 😉 I don’t feel driven or pushed in any area of my life, except that I want to read more and more, I want to know more, I want to learn more, I want to discover more so I can grow more. And you know, that’s not all bad.
But why not just … do it.
Do what I already know to do. I don’t need another voice telling me something I already know. I don’t need to read the latest book on prayer as much as I just need … to pray.
Maybe I don’t need another thing. Maybe I just need fewer things.
Fewer words. Fewer pages. Just for now.
Because maybe I need to read the moment. Maybe I need to read their faces. I need to read His writing on the wall and the sound of birds and the way the colors change from Portland to Phoenix and back. Maybe I need to pour out more words from my heart instead of stuffing so many in.
So for now, He’s telling me to read the moment, enjoy it, soak it up, live it, then write it. Reading is so much safer.
It’s so much easier to ingest someone else’s story than to live–and tell–your own.
But writing, for me, requires courage. It requires me to do something more than just regurgitate someone else’s thoughts. I have to feel this day and their faces and read into each moment. I have to engage and then articulate.
I have to offer something of myself out for all to see.
And risk that even though there are already too many words out in this world (*smile*) it’s still worth while to add a few of my own.
So, for this trip, I left books behind. We’ll be embarking on some varied adventures–everything from National Parks to a Bethel conference to a Half-Ironman triathlon. And of course, plenty of mishaps and memorable moments in between. So I’ll be sharing bits and pieces along the way. I hope some can be a blessing or encouragement to you, in some way.
{With so many words out there, thanks for reading these.}
What’s so much better than right…
Photo by Lacey Meyers
There are so many reasons not to do that thing.
This is the way the inner-narrative runs. There’s the thing. That thing that you have to do, or are supposed to do, or are possibly supposed to do and that’s what you’re trying to figure out. And then, there’s that deep down no-way-around-it feeling that, you just don’t want to do it.
So what you do you do? Who do you talk to, to discern how to proceed? There are really only three options to consider.
- Talk to yourself.
- Talk to someone else.
- Talk to God.
Out on paper, it seems so simple, and we smile serenely and say of course #3. But the truth is, I almost always begin with #1. I think some people probably jump right to #2 (i.e. Crowd Sourcing on Facebook), but for me it’s a quieter poll:
I confer with me, myself, and I.
I make great points, you know, there inside my head. I am logical and thorough. I know my arguments inside and out. Astonishingly, I hear no counter-arguments. There’s no dissension whatsoever. We’re all in agreement and I win by a landslide. In fact, it’s a unanimous vote! All in favor say Aye! Hooray!
But then, the Spirit nags. Did I ask Him? Did I invite Him to my council-meeting?
*sigh*
I really should know better, by now. When I begin stacking up reasons for my own way, it’s usually a dead giveaway that I’m ignoring His nudges. [bctt tweet=”I find that following His leading frees me from building my case.”] Obeying His voice is always enough. I can usually leave my lists behind.
So I say fine. Yes, Lord. I will go your way. I decide to do the thing, even if I don’t want to, and His joy becomes my strength and next thing I know I’m looking forward to this!
Then, strangest of strange, another curve ball comes.
Wait? I thought this was turn right, and now it’s a turn left, and did I hear wrong the first time or am I now veering off course? And this time, thankfully, I tune in to His whisper more quickly than before, and almost instantly realize the answer to both is, “No, child.”
No, you didn’t hear wrong the first time.
No, you’re not veering off course.
I wanted you to choose right, because that was the only way to uproot the issue, the sin, in your heart. At that point, to go left would have been for your own selfish reasons, and that could never have been My best.
But now, you’ve chosen love, in order to go right. I’m so pleased. And now, in order to choose love, you need to go left. Both are obedience. Both are love. Both are denying yourself. Both are you choosing to submit your will, your heart, your life, to me.
That, dear daughter, was my plan all along.
This is what is so much better than right. The “right answer” will never give you rest. Arguments will never arrest your affections, your heart, and turn it to me. All your logic will never lead you to love. Listening will. Surrendering will. Worshipping will.
And so, like Abraham, we listen on the first day and the third. We listen when he says, “Sacrifice your son,” and when he says, “Stay your hand.”
This is loving our Lord and letting Him lead. It’s so much better than right.
{How is He leading you now? Thanks for reading.}
“I’d never do that.” {Fasting series}
Here’s another story from another dear friend. In case you’re saying, “I’d never do that…” she said that too. 😉
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This has been such an interesting journey for me. I have never fasted in any shape or form before. Growing up super legalistic I have spent a lot of my adult life relying on myself and thinking of God as someone far away that is always ready to condemn you.
Over the last year God has been slowly and painfully tearing down the walls around my heart and I am so thankful to no longer be guarded against Him and fellow Christians. It has been amazing to be able to say I “heard” from God and realizing that He speaks to us through so many ways, especially His scriptures.
I definitely hadn’t planned on fasting and it was one of those things I was “never” going to do (kind of like speaking or praying in front of the church). Obviously God had other plans. Our family has a lot of big changes coming in the next year and I felt God asking me to prepare myself because it was going to be a rocky season. Every time I would ask God how He wanted me to prepare someone would talk about fasting or I would read about fasting in my Bible reading that day. Hmm, strange I thought.
Fast forward to a couple of months later and we were at the Women’s Getaway. I went into the weekend feeling ready to receive what God had planned for me and through prayer and conversation, felt really convicted that fasting was how He wanted to prepare me. If you know me you know I am not a halfway kind of gal, so I decided to go for it and started the day after we got back.
I love the fact that I came back and told [my husband] that I was going to fast for 40 days and instead of questioning me at all, he just says, “Okay, let me know how I can encourage you.” It is such a blessing to be married to someone who can say that, especially with how our marriage started out.
Fasting is such an eye opening experience. You realize that it’s okay to be hungry. You realize that God really can be what you desire. You also realize how broken the world is. I thought this time of fasting was going to be about our lives. It is in some ways but for me it has really been about interceding in prayer for our broken world. I used to be so accepting of sickness, divorce, etc. as just a part of life. These past three weeks God has told me no! You need to fight! You need to get on you knees and intercede for the world you live in. It is easy to see the brokenness in world. It is in your face every day. Now I feel like I am seeing it through God’s eyes and I am so excited to be able to enter into this battle with prayer and fasting.
My faith has increased more in this short amount of time than ever before. It may surprise you but I can get really focused on getting things done and being motivated. Being hungry has definitely slowed me down and made me more focused on what God has for me in the moment. It has also been a great way to share with people what God is doing in my life, instead of letting that mom’s night out be really awkward. I was reading 1 Corinthians this morning and this just resonated with me:
“Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” 1 Corinthians 1:31
That is what I want. I want people to know and see that anything that happens in my life is not my own doing but God’s.
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I love this: “You need to fight! You need to get on your knees and intercede for the world.” Amen, sister. Well said. Thanks for reading.}