Exasperated, perplexed, but not in despair
I’ve wanted to write about this for awhile, but every time I sat down my heart didn’t seem right. Honestly, it doesn’t seem right very often these days. All I mean is, I feel like I can always detect some trace of pride, or anger, or self-righteousness, or hurt. But recently I read a book, and the author’s honesty was so refreshing to me. There were parts of his heart that were “right” and there were parts that weren’t. Rather than wait until his heart was perfect in order to communicate, he just readily acknowledged it all and still pressed through to communicate, what he believed, was God’s heart.
Last night I told my parents I think many people feel like exasperated children. In Ephesians 6:4, Paul writes, “Fathers, do not exasperate your children.” Now, I know next to nothing about politics, but I know a little bit about parenting. I haven’t read a lot on public policy but I’ve read A LOT on parenting. I haven’t shaped the culture of a nation, but I have most certainly shaped the hearts of my children. And this verse has always been near to my heart. I believe in firm discipline, clear and swift consequences, and first-time obedience.
And I also believe that parents can crush their children’s spirits when they exasperate them.
- They exasperate them when they don’t clearly communicate what’s expected.
- They exasperate them when they change the rules without notice.
- They exasperate them when they’re inconsistently disciplined, so the child never knows when a certain offense will be punished and when it won’t.
- They exasperate them when they have standards that are completely unattainable.
- They exasperate them when they don’t reward or praise their good behavior.
- They exasperate them when they let other siblings get away with wrong behavior, without punishment, especially when they don’t protect an innocent child from the sinful behavior of a sibling.
- They exasperate them when they require a certain standard for their children that they don’t live up to themselves.
- They exasperate them when they never allow reasonable appeals to their rules or authority, when they don’t give their children a voice.
This list actually makes me tear up. I love children. Fiercely. I feel sorry for those who are frequently exasperated by poor parenting.
And I feel these things. I have felt exasperated, living in Oregon, as the leader of a church, trying to navigate the twists and turns of the last six months. The standards seem to change constantly. Requirements for gaining freedoms seem unattainable. Things that used to be the standards, now aren’t the standards. The bar is always moving, sometimes without notice. Evildoers aren’t punished, while it feels like those of us who going out of our way to try to obey every mandate aren’t rewarded or encouraged. No appeals are allowed and we never get a say, because the State of Emergency eliminates all our usual processes.
Please hear my heart—I do not mean to speak against those in places of authority. I am SO grateful for leaders. I have gone out of my way, during the last six months, to THANK those in places of leadership, even if I didn’t agree with them, because I recognize how incredibly difficult it is to navigate the season we are in.
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair…”
2 Cor. 4:7-8
On the other hand, as I look closer to home, I am perplexed. I am perplexed that we, as followers of Jesus, are so divided. My kids and I just finished reading The Hiding Place, and SO MANY things stood out to me. One surprising thing that I didn’t remember from before, was how differently Corrie and her sister Nollie responded to the German invasion, and their own personal responses to the occupation, their part in the Resistance, hiding the Jews, etc.
As you may know, Corrie ran an underground system of hiding Jews so that they wouldn’t be send to extermination camps. She had to lie, in order to obtain ration cards so these Jews could be fed. She had to lie to the German soldiers in order to save the lives of those in her care. Her conviction was that this was obedience to God, in order to preserve life and protect the innocent.
Her sister, Nollie, had the conviction that one should never lie. Ever. Even when asked point-blank about hidden Jews, she would answer honestly. This was beyond infuriating to Corrie, who saw it as actually putting people in danger because of her rigid devotion to the letter of the law.
The amazing thing is … God used both. In Nollie’s rigid honesty, God provided amazing ways of escape and protected those in her care, as well as her own life. In Corrie’s shrewdness, God saved hundreds of lives and worked through the ways she concealed certain information.
I know it is on a WAY tamer level, but I believe we’re in the middle of a similar situation. I have dear friends, Jesus-loving, praying-and-fasting faithful friends, who are on exact opposite ends of the spectrum right now in terms of convictions. In our church, we have Jesus-loving people in opposite ends of the spectrum. On our property (!) we have people on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Honestly? In the practical experience this is exhausting. I often long to retreat to some corner where we can just all have the same convictions and I won’t have to deal with the discomfort of it all (this might surface as me telling Jeff, “I want to run away!”). But as I read Corrie’s account, it encouraged my heart so profoundly to see her struggle through the same thing and YET, SHE AND NOLLIE REMAINED UNIFIED.
Even in their convictions that seemed exact opposite, they were sisters, and they remained committed to one another and to Christ. The key? I believe it was that neither of them insisted that the other do it her way. Corrie never insisted that Nollie conceal or lie. Nollie never judged Corrie for her secretive work.
Their father? When asked what he thought he simply responded, “I think you both are operating out of love.”
And they were.
What’s troubling to me right now is this weapon-phrase we’re tossing around, “If you really loved people you would [fill in the blank with whatever that person’s particular standpoint is on a current issue.]”
I would cautious all of us against using that phrase, unless the blank is filled with something straight from Scripture. Even then, we way we engage in good works may look different from another genuine believer.
If Nollie and Corrie had turned on one another, because of their disagreement in how they sought to save the Jews, the entire work of saving hundreds of lives (and thousands of souls, eventually, through Corrie’s lifelong work) would have been destroyed.
So, brothers and sisters: In our exasperation, can we remain hopeful, prayerful, humble, knowing God is working patience in us? As we are perplexed, can we refuse to be driven to despair, can we trust His Word to guide and lead us, as we continually turn our hearts to Him? Despair will destroy our hearts. Division will destroy our mission.
Satan wants to devour us, at all cost.
Will you pray? Will you pray that leaders will not exasperate those under their authority? Will you pray that the church will be unified, not in our exact convictions, but in our commitment to Christ and our love for one another? Will you pray that this difficult season we are in will bring a harvest of souls who are willing to lay down their lives for the sake of following Jesus?
With you, in the ups and downs. Perplexed, but not driven to despair. Jesus is with us! Thanks for reading.
My thoughts on Covid + 5 ways to cultivate the health of my heart
“I will just be happy to talk about something other than Covid!”
Ha. That was my friend’s text responding about our upcoming book-discussion group. Oh man, seriously. Hands down, this has been the hardest ministry season of our lives. A couple days ago in my morning Bible reading I read an interesting Proverb:
“A man’s spirit will endure sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear?”
(Prov. 18:14)
That pretty much sums it up. In the last six months, I haven’t had a single person in my life who has been crushed due to physical illness. I actually don’t know anyone who’s been sick beyond a mild cough or cold. And yet, an overwhelming number of people have and are battling crushed spirits.
Please understand this isn’t a political statement. I’m not saying that wearing a mask is crushing someone’s spirit. I’m happy to wear a mask. In fact, yesterday I forgot my mask at Papa Murphy’s so I wore a diaper on my face. We need some humor, people! We’re dying from a lack of laughter!
“A joyful heart is good medicine but a crushed spirit dries up the bones!”
(Prov. 17:22)
I’m also not saying the physical symptoms of Covid aren’t a real concern. I know they are. I am saying that the atmosphere right now seems toxic to our souls and that’s what concerns me most. That’s what has made me cry myself to sleep and sometimes want to move out to the woods (Wait, we live in the woods–well, farther out into the woods) and avoid all contact with people for the foreseeable future.
I was telling a friend the other night, everything feels happy-sad right now:
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Don’t give up that ground
I looked at the clock: 2:11pm. Just about time, I thought to myself with zero enthusiasm. I wiped the counters, stuck the last lunch-dish in the dishwasher, grabbed my Bible, and headed up the stairs. At the top, on the little landing, tucked away in an alcove, sits a rocking chair. This, I felt, was where God had called me to pray each afternoon from 2:15-2:45, a call that sounds simple enough, but that, I confess, too often has gone unheeded.
Ever since considering The Quiet Revival I’ve been deeply challenged to make prayer a greater priority. And, like many things, as soon as you really focus on growing at something you become painfully aware of how terrible you really are at it. How many of us have been inspired to run, only to set out and realize with utmost chagrin that we can’t even make it one mile.
Anybody else?
While I love my morning devotion times, and that is an established habit for 20 years now, I sensed that a dedicated intercession time was what God was calling me to, and this 30-minute window is the one time of day, every day, that we never have other commitments.
So I began with gusto.
It doesn’t take long for the excitement to wear off. The 1857 Revival didn’t happen overnight, if you recall. Nothing of significance usually does. And why is staying power so hard?
The day before, I had read it:
Think about all the things that we do not follow through with. Many of us are good in crisis, but who can be found at the scene, still running maintenance on a situation long after emergency intervention has been performed? Even in our everyday lives we take ground, only to become sloppy and lazy again.
We diet, just to accomplish our goal weight, and then load up on cake and gain the pounds back. We save money, just to “splurge” on something that then leaves us without savings again. We organize, just to turn around the next day and begin the same cluttery piles on our desk. We purchase home-improvement materials that sit in the garage and collect dust. We bring home supplies for starting a new hobby only to leave them on a shelf and later donate—still in the package—to a thrift store because we have given up on ever making time to follow through. We make new “household rules” we don’t follow up on. We pay for gym memberships we don’t use. We buy cookbooks we don’t even open. We buy vitamins we don’t take. We set bedtimes, budgets, schedules, maintenance plans, even boundaries in relationships and friendships…then completely disregard them when it’s time for following through.
But worse, we do this spiritually. We tell people we will pray for them, and then forget to do it. We say we’ll attend church and never get around to it. We don’t make time to read the Bible or prayer like we should. We turn a blind eye to those in need and say that we will do soething about their need tomorrow.
In a crisis, we band together for the good of the issue we are facing. We pray, fast, encourage each other, attend special church services, give to emergency funds, and sometimes even protest or take visibly public actions to see our goals achieved. But once our goal is accomplished, we retreat to where we were before the calamity hit, leaving ground uncovered and vulnerable to reinvasion by the enemy.
Ouch. Just so true. I can think of several areas where this applies in my life, but prayer is where I feel the conviction most keenly.
To be fair, most days I had dragged myself up to the prayer corner, and done my best to faithfully lift up those things He’s called me intercede for. But how quickly we become discouraged when we don’t see result, when the time invested feels like a waste, especially when so many other things feel more urgent.
Anybody else?
So once again I dragged myself up to that chair. Of course immediately a child had a need, my phone rang, I became desperately thirsty. Half the spiritual battle is overcoming distractions! But then I prayed, and I wish I could say it was exhilarating, energizing, goose-bump inducing prayer. It wasn’t. I didn’t sense a supernatural presence, I had no visions, I heard no booming voice from heaven. But I did sense that somehow these simple acts of obedience matter, and God is calling us to faithfulness, above all. But how I longed to see some answer!
At 2:45 I finished up and went on my way. That night, at Bible study, we prayed specifically over several things, one of which was healing for a sick friend. There, I did sense more clarity, more power, maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of, dare I say it … breakthrough?
Later, I crawled into bed. When I laid down, my left ear starting ringing loudly. I shifted, turned, unable to sleep because of the ringing. This is silly, I thought, I just prayed for healing for someone in Jesus’ name, why don’t I ask for this ringing to stop?
So, I did. And immediately the ringing stopped. Completely. And I whispered thanks into the darkness because that was just what I needed. More than ringing stopped, more than a good night’s sleep, I needed assurance that He hears.
And He does. And He answers. And He simply asks us not to give up the ground we’ve gained. Not to grow weary, lazy, apathetic. To, quite simply, believe.
The next morning I checked on my friend. She was completely better, healed, just like we had prayed. Later that afternoon, another update popped up sharing an amazing and immediate answer to a specific prayer from the night before.
The kind whisper of the Father: “See, I hear. Don’t give up.”
So often in prayer we think in deceptively simple categories: Answered vs. Unanswered. We think “prayers that worked” and “prayers that didn’t.” But prayer is much more like a battlefield, gaining ground and holding it, or losing ground and giving up.
Courage and faith gain us ground, but faithfulness is what holds it. It what keeps us on keeping on, in the prayer closet of life where no one sees, day in and day out, engaging in quiet warfare.
Friend, what territory have you allowed the devil to steal back? What ground have you gained that has slowly been surrendered back to the enemy of our souls? Where have you grown weary and abandoned the good path of steady faithfulness He has called you to? Might I encourage you, as one who is also feeble and weak: God will empower you to live faithfully. To keep on keeping on. To refuse to give up the ground you’ve gained. Too much is at stake. Don’t give up.
{Thanks for reading.}
A quiet revival
I slipped under the covers and sighed, exhausted, closing my burning eyes and sniffing my running nose, trying to tilt my head just right so I could breathe. It was just a cold, but a cold plus pregnancy plus a heavy heart … I just longed for sleep. Jeff turned toward me.
“What did she say?”
I told him. Our sweet little Heidi has had this little struggle for awhile now, but some days it seems to consume her. She has the most precious, tender heart, and sometimes it feels like she’s a flower planted too close to a footpath.
Her petals are so easily crushed.
The next morn I felt a little better, but a number of concerns still weighed on me as I headed out for my walk. Two hours later, three more weights had managed to heft themselves upon my heart, and by the time I bathed and was dressed for the day I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.
So I did.
Thankful for a flexible schedule, I slid back under the covers and finally let the tears flow, and as the tears flowed, I saw the weights cascading around me like a heap of boulders. I could see them named, so clear. Some small, some huge, but all legitimate cares. I let my prayer flow freely too…
“Jesus, I desperately love you. I love my country, I love these precious neighbors who don’t know you. I love my mom, my family, I love my church, my children. The weight of care feels crushing. Please, show me what to do.”
Not so much a word or voice but a knowing filled my head, heart, soul, the very room:
PRAY.
YOU MUST PRAY.
Of course. The story from the kids’ history lesson the day before rushed back into my memory:
The quiet revival of Jeremiah Lanphier.
It was 1857. The country was in severe turmoil and the Civil War was brewing. Tension was at fever pitch. Jeremiah Lanphier was no politician, orator, statesman. He wasn’t even a member of the clergy. He was a layman evangelist, who saw the needs around him and had the simple idea:
Pray.
So he posted a notice:
Prayer Meeting from 12 to 1 o’clock—Stop 5, 10, or 20 minutes, or the whole hour, as your time admits.
That was it.
At 12 o’clock noon on September 23, 1857, he climbed the stairs to the 3rd story of the old church building. No one else had shown up. No doubt he felt disheartened, but he dropped to his knees and determined to pray, whether or not anyone arrived.
At 12:30, another man quietly climbed the stairs, and joined him.
Then another, until there were six in total.
Just six.
They prayed for a few minutes, then agreed to return the next week.
The next week there were 20.
The following week, 40.
Within six months, there were some 10,000 gathering to pray in New York City every week, in different locations. Prayer meetings cropped up nationwide, in every denomination, bringing thousands to Christ each week. One account reads:
When the revival was at high tide through the nation, it was judged that 50,000 persons a week were converted. And the number who joined the churches in 1858 amounted to almost 10 percent of the country’s total church membership! If the estimate of one million converts is correct (some say the number is closer to 300,000), that accounts for one-thirtieth of the total United States population of that time—and almost all in one year! (CS Lewis institute)
This quiet revival quaked our entire country.
All through bended knee.
Did all this prayer keep our country from Civil War? No, but it undoubtedly influenced the course of our nation and saved the souls of thousands who would soon be swept into eternity through the bloody years that followed, through the war that would claim more lives than any other our nation has ever seen.
All because a man most of us have never heard of decided to pray.
Friends, there’s no shame in tears shed out of love, out of burden, out of heartbreak. That’s the Fellowship of the Brokenhearted. But we cannot let that drive us to despair, or anger, or overwhelm. God has made a way for us to be mighty in Him …
…it is on our knees.
{There is nothing so urgent as prayer. Thank you so much for reading.}
“Our Hope is in heaven…”
I shared here, about Honor, the unborn child we lost through an early miscarriage on March 5th of this year. I wanted to share a little more about her story, about ours, and about Hope. This is personal stuff so if you’d rather pass on this lengthy post, I understand. But I welcome you to come along.
After having Heidi 8.5 years ago, I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I was serving as Women’s Director, speaking at retreats, and drafting up the proposal for Sacred Mundane. Dutch, 2, was difficult and mostly baffled me. I loved being a mom, but felt like a failure most of the time. I wasn’t really a “kid person” and both babies came without trying, so I couldn’t imagine having more. I wanted a preventative method that was permanent.
Appointment made. Procedure done. Close that chapter. Moving on.
Life was full. We sold our dream house. Moved. Planted a church. Moved again. Lived on next to nothing. Had an assortment of housemates. Wrote a book. Moved again.
Then, a couple years ago, I was speaking at a retreat, and casually sat down with a woman holding a baby. We got to know each other, and she shared that she and her husband had had a vasectomy, but then years later felt that they heard clearly from the Lord to have more children. They obeyed, had a reversal, and now had several more children. She was sitting there, beaming, bouncing her darling little bundle. So clearly happy.
I was horrified.
God can DO that?!
I mean, He had told us to do stuff. We had sold our home. Given money away. Planted a church. But those were gospel-y things. Kingdom things.
Could God tell you what to do with your body???
I’m smiling here because of course He can, but it was certainly disconcerting to me to think that God would interrupt someone’s life in this way. Go on a foreign mission? Sure. Give money away? Of course.
Have more kids? Now wait a minute.
I remember going back to my room a bit unsettled. Her story challenged my assumptions of what God would or would not ask of me. Of course I loved my kids. But this was years later. That season was over. I was 35 for crying out loud. Advanced maternal age. Didn’t that have to do special tests for pregnant people my age?
I pushed the thought out of my mind. Too much time has passed. That ship has sailed.
As the next year went by, I thought of that conversation. I also reflected on how very different my life was now that my kids were older. In short, they’re SO FUN. I remember being exhausted during the baby stage, but this … this was fabulous! I loved seeing who my kids were becoming, and I found myself often saying, “If I had known how awesome this would be, we would have had more…”
But we hadn’t. So we didn’t.
I was also amazed that year to hear that a friend of mine, well into her mid-40s, gave birth to her 8th child, with a 10.5-year span between her next youngest and her newborn. My “I’m too old and too much time has passed!” excuse seemed a little lame.
Fast forward to last September. With these thoughts still on my mind, I received an invitation from a friend, asking if we could meet for lunch. She drove 5 hours from her hometown just to meet me, so I was eager to hear what was on her mind. Knowing nothing of my own inner wrestlings, and to my jaw-dropping amazement, she shared her incredible story of how God had revealed that there was an area of her life that wasn’t fully surrendered to God. The area?
Willingness to have more children. They too had had a vasectomy. Closed that chapter. And now, 7 years later, God had led them to get a reversal and be open to having more children. She too was beaming, so filled with the joy of obedience.
I was speechless. I think I muttered something like, “Oh wow, good for you.”
I walked from Cafe Yumm back out to the car and sat in the silence. Just me and the Spirit. I didn’t sense conviction, per se, or some heavy condemnation, as if I had sinned. I just knew that the right answer is always surrender, and I never wanted to have an area of my life where I refused to let God move. Without much passion, I spoke the words into the air,
“Fine. I surrender. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”
—
A month later, the idea of a reversal still stuck with me. I knew I should at least mention the idea to Jeff, since it kind of involved him. 😉 To my amazement, he was all for it: YES! I’d love to have more kids!
You what??! I was shocked, but happy too. Over the course of the next month the idea grew, specifically in the form of two names. Just as both Dutch & Heidi’s names were clear to me before they were born, I kept having two more names come to mind, one of which was the girl’s name Honor. I loved that name for a girl, and it was as if these were children God had thought of for us that we had yet to hold. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like they were already conceived, as in thought of, by Him, before they were conceived by us. I found myself WANTING to hold them.
The true reversal was of my heart, and God did that completely. Now I found myself, more than anything else, longing to hold these children our Father had for us.
Now, the decision. We knew that if we were to have more kids, we should probably do more than pray for an immaculate conception.
Obedience usually requires action.
And often, cost. While vasectomies are easily covered by most insurance, reversals are most certainly not. We were quoted $8,000 out of pocket at OHSU. Ouch.
And yet, David said, “I will not offer to the LORD that which costs me nothing.” Sometimes undoing a decision is costly, so we needed to be willing to pay that cost.
But we’re still frugal! We wanted to be wise stewards of God’s money, so we prayed, researched, and while Jeff shared our journey with the church Elders, I was home researching and I stumbled upon a chat thread that mentioned Dr. David Wilson, a Christian urologist in Oklahoma who had a ministry of offering at-cost reversals. He loves the Lord and has performed more than 6,450 reversals at cost, as a generous ministry. Instead of $8,000 it was $1,900. And he loved Jesus.
Yes, please. We bought cheap airfare for a few months out, and kept our secret over the holidays.
Although, it seemed the Spirit was speaking to someone else as well.
Although we had never said anything to our kids, they both began talking about siblings. Dutch wanted a little brother and Heidi a little sister. That seemed surprising, since they’d never brought it up before, in the past 8 years! Then, one December morning, Heidi came downstairs and said,
“Mommy, last night I had a dream that I prayed for you to get pregnant and you did.”
I about choked on my coffee but tried to stay cool. “Hm. That’s interesting,” I responded, and dropped it. But that night she pressed the issue,
“Mommy, what about the dream? What do you think about it??”
I smiled. “Why don’t you just pray about it.”
And so she did. I heard from her Sunday school teachers that each week for her prayer request she’d pray for a sibling. I was amazed and silently hoped God would hear her prayers.
And then, in January, without telling anyone what we were doing (not even my parents, who were watching the kids, ha!) we flew to OK and had the procedure done. When we arrived in Tulsa, the car rental place explained that even though there were only 2 of us, they needed to upgrade us to a minivan. Ha! We winked at each other (“It’s a sign!”) and hurried on our way.
It was a great trip. We enjoyed the time away, loved Dr. Wilson who prayed with us, played worship music in the surgery room, and encouraged us along our journey. However, we knew the chances were still slim, since so much time had gone by since the original procedure was done.
We didn’t know if I’d ever get pregnant.
But 3 weeks later I did.
We were stunned. Thrilled. Over the moon excited. It worked! This was happening!
The few friends who knew our journey were celebrating with us. God is faithful! Hallelujah.We told the kids.
“Heidi! God answered your prayers!” She was thrilled. We rejoiced.
And then I miscarried.
Now I was stunned, in a different way. I knew that this was not uncommon, but Dutch & Heidi’s pregnancies were so easy, uneventful, uncomplicated. I’d never had a moment of doubt or worry with them.
And now, just like that, this child was gone.
The swell of momentum and joy and hope and excitement … was over.
Now it was just pain, and recovery, and explaining to the kids and all the shocked people who didn’t understand how on earth we could have even been in a situation to have a miscarriage.
So much explaining.
Not at all how I pictured “the blessing of obedience” would be.
But there was Hope.
As I was going through the miscarriage, I sensed God saying that this child, this tiny barely-formed child, was Honor. I was losing Honor.
But I still knew that God had put on our hearts to have two children we would hold, so I cried out to Him, in tears,
“Then God, please, give me another name. If I’m losing Honor, speak to me, who do you have for me instead?”
As clear as an audible voice, into the darkness:
“Hope.”
Yes. Hope. Of course. I knew Romans 5 — suffering produces … hope. And hope does not disappoint. This suffering would produce Hope and I would hold onto her. Hope would be the child who would remind me always of God’s good work through suffering.
I looked forward to Hope.
—
The months ahead brought up more stuff. Disappointments do that, they bring things to the surface that should have been dealt with long ago, but the pain or discouragement drags it up, so then you get to deal. It was a hard few months. I was surprised by how long the recovery took, the ups and downs and hormones and swings.
But I held onto Hope.
And around May 5th, I felt like myself again. The winter was over. Spring! Hallelujah, spring.
A month later, during one of our church prayer meetings, a good friend felt led to pray specifically that I would get pregnant immediately.
I did.
YES!
This is Hope.
Yes! What redemption! God’s promises are sure! We can count on Him! Hope does not disappoint! We waited longer to share the news, but each passing week seemed to solidify the surety of this child. My first appointment was scheduled for 11 weeks, and we couldn’t wait. Morning sickness was in full swing, I gained 6 pounds right off the bat, and was already rounding out quite nicely.
I just couldn’t wait to hear Hope’s heartbeat.
And then.
A couple days before the appointment, the pain began.
No. Fear threatened. No.
I will hold onto Hope. I prayed, prayed, all day, under my breath, in my mind. Through that night. Through the next day. Sunday morning I came to church still in pain, but holding onto Hope. As I walked into worship practice, my sweet friend Christine was singing the worship lyrics,
“Your Name is Hope inside me, Hope inside me…”
Tears welled up as I sang out with all my heart, praying through each twinge of pain, singing for Hope, holding onto Hope.
That afternoon it began in full force.
It was horrific, to me, so I don’t need to share details. I didn’t realize how different a later miscarriage was than the one I’d experienced earlier. I passed out three times from loss of blood. Jeff was a hero, carrying me, holding me, through six hours of horrendous labor-like loss.
I prayed constantly for hours, holding onto Hope, and then, in a crystal clear moment, in the darkness I heard in my heart,
“Our Hope is in heaven.”
Through my blurred eyes I pulled up the verse on my phone–did it really say that? Yes. Colossians 1:5,
… the hope laid up for us in heaven.
Hope was laid up for us in heaven.
You’ve probably been there before. When the waves of grief just wash over you, like the relentless waves of labor contractions, and the physical pain seems endless and it all feels overwhelming, but there’s peace too.
The physical process continued in all its mercilessness, but Jeff carried me, and somehow heaven seemed so real and suddenly there was so much there.
I was just so grateful. All I could think about was how grateful I was.
To be alive. To have a husband who stayed up all night holding me. For two beautiful children, alive and asleep in the other room. For our home, for this land that is green and lush and gorgeous. For grace, for life, for Jesus and for all He’s done and is doing and for our friends and amazing family, and for HEAVEN.
The hope of heaven. Whatever the worst is this world can do to us … it’s got nothing on heaven.
Heaven wins.
And so my Hope passed from this world to the next, just like that.
Sure, I know my God works miracles here too. Jesus clearly shows us that. He heals bodies. He parts seas. He feeds thousands. He opens eyes.
But that isn’t all He does. Ultimately, our Hope is in heaven.
And I know God’s good will isn’t miscarriage. He’s shown us that too (Exodus 23). But no matter what this busted, messed up, broken world can beat us down with, heaven wins.
And then, afterwards, the gratitude couldn’t help but grow because God’s people are amazing and who can grumble and gripe when there’s gorgeous flowers filling my countertop and the kindest words poured out on cards and gifts and love that leave me speechless? When friends show up with my favorite treats, and Clear Mind kombucha flows like water 😉 and when I don’t know what on earth to do for dinner the housemate comes up with steaming hot spaghetti and then the husband walks in with brownies dropped off by a friend, and, and, and …
How can I complain of pain when there’s still so much beauty in this world???
There is still so much beauty in this world.
Of course there is still grief. And I know two miscarriages is nothing compared to some of your pain. You who are battling cancer or fighting for little one’s lives or grieving loss that’s beyond my comprehension. But I know this:
He wins.
The worst this world can do is death.
Oh death, where is your sting? It has been swallowed up. You know by what?
By victory.
And so, that was this Monday. 🙂 And now I’m unplugging for a bit, laying low with my feet up and I hope you have a great week. Just wanted to share a bit of our journey with you.
It’s not over.
{Thanks for reading.}
Declaring more than Happy Birthday over Mrs. Sacred Mundane
Kari’s husband here, seeking to share some words about my wife. Today is her birthday, and while this woman doesn’t seek the attention, she is worth celebrating.
You see, Kari is the same in public as she is in private; she harbors no secrets. Humility and integrity have married together with creativity and authenticity in this woman. Today we celebrate her — WHO she is — above her works, and words. Her worth is in being a daughter of God.
The words belong flow because there is little editing when it comes to portraying Kari’s character. Sure, there are many aspects of our lives that she keeps private, and rightly so. Not once has she shamed our family in writing or speaking the true stories she shares. Kari routinely asks for my input and permission before going public with a private aspect. (I did not however ask her if I could post this.) But the point is, she’s the same person at home as she portrays in public; except for here at home she’s mostly adorned in sweatpants and a favorite tattered fleece. *smile*
June is a month of reflection for both of us, with birthdays and our anniversary. And I am learning it is a moment to consider the future. Kari is consistently future-oriented; I wake up daily in the past. So the declarations I pray today over her life, some of which I share below on her birthday, have an already-not-yet quality to them. There is the power of the Gospel over her past (absolution and forgiveness and so much more through justification by grace), God eradicating the presence of sin and selfishness (sanctification), and she is becoming who she already is in Christ and will be forevermore (glorification). My bride knows theology well, and lives it better. In the Renew family we say we want to embrace and embody the grace and truth of Jesus. Kari, whose name means “the pure one,” seeks to live up to this standard, imaging the pure hope of the God of all Grace.
These truths are vital to share, for the “secret sauce” of Kari’s life is no mere talent or special opportunity. She has tasted and seen that the Lord is good (Psalm 37), and responds to His goodness — and greatness, and grace, and glory — with her whole heart and life. This woman shows up, serves everyone, is found faithful, perseveres through discouragement (hupomone!), and receives the fruit of wisdom only ours through following Jesus. She wanted “nothing” for her birthday, since she’s living beyond herself. I say there’s a gift we could give.
You’ll find this blog has no monetized ads, for we’re prayerfully seeking to give away the Gospel. We want you to learn to live unstuck through the good news of Jesus. Yet there is one gift you could give Kari, by way of clicking.
Will you pre-order a copy of her new book Sacred Mundane?
(Perhaps to give away. All her ebooks and this new book described here.)
You’ll receive the gift as it releases July 25th, and I guarantee the message will serve you on the path to freedom, purpose, and joy. Sacred Mundane will guide toward hope as you let your days transform your life. Kari has labored over that message for more than a decade — all the while living the sacred mundane life. Her soul and our home spills over its pages; it gets a little messy. God is so good.
There’s something more to this gift: for your purchase goes beyond her. It’s our joy to give all our proceeds from Sacred Mundane for the flourishing of women and children in developing whole communities globally. We happily give this to and through World Vision.
Back to the birthday girl… my prayer over her soul, and longing for her life, is that she enter into the grace and truth of Christ, clinging to the honor and justice that truly belongs to our Creator. So I declare these truths from Scripture over her life:
Kari, you are loved by God, and me. You are a daughter, born again, and adopted into the family of God, chosen before the foundation of the world. The Creator chose you as His own! Being rescued and remade into the image of God’s Son, you reflect His glory, and bear the fruit of His Spirit, according to all the creative means God desires. He will complete the good work He began in you, and in us, through your trust, honor, and obedience. He will sustain you to the very end, kept blameless until the day of Christ Jesus. Though you were once without hope, but God because He is rich in mercy through the gift of His Son has saved you forever. You were ordained to live in the good words God planned for you, that you shall walk in them all the days of your life, and this new year especially. For you are set apart for righteousness, bringing God’s creative solutions to order the chaos all around you. As one of His called people you can rejoice that all things are working together for your good, to the glory of God. For no good thing does He withhold as you walk uprightly. I am convinced you are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct others. Your life serves God’s purposes in the whole world, and this small part of it. You are also full of faith, humility, and love, and can do all things in love, through Him who strengthens you. For nothing is impossible for God. You have all things that pertain to life and godliness through the knowledge of Jesus. You are chosen as his vessel to declare His excellencies — His perfections! — and display His goodness and glory. You work with all your might, as unto the Lord, and surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life. Then you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. You are blessed beyond measure because Jesus Christ our Lord, who took our sin and sickness and shame, who bore them away forever, on the cross. He has defeated all enemies in your life, absolved all your sin, set you free to live as He intended. Jesus has endued you with power and kindness to use the spiritual gifts and unique calling He chose as you fulfill your role as a significant minor character in the big Story.
May this new year continue deeper in His truth, wider in His grace, fully in His joy. In God’s glorious plan, where Jesus is the Hero of the Story, as the One who moves the plot forward, you participate in the renewal of all things, the redemption from the curse, and the coming of the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. You are loved with an everlasting love, and nothing can separate you from the love of God, through Christ Jesus our Lord. It is pure joy to be in this goodness alongside you. Amen!
We pray this over you on this day. Happy Birthday, Kari!
It is a joy to walk alongside you, following Jesus together as a family. Now to finish your present, cleaning out the shop.
—Jeff (@deTheos, @renewjeff)
p.s., Kari will return to write next week, so if you’re longing for her take on things, you can subscribe by email here to receive all new posts as they’re published.
Land that I love… {A long confession}
I have a confession: I haven’t loved America.
Sometimes God’s leading is so surprising, the twists and turns He takes us on so unexpected, that we’re often unsure whether we want to even share the stuff out loud. Right? At least I feel that way sometimes.
I have recently been challenged by two issues—two convictions that caught me off guard because they are in such sharp contrast to the way I’ve always lived. Mere months ago I would have scoffed at the suggestion that my heart was off in these areas, and yet God has gently guided me, through prayer, His Word, conversations, and a few thought-provoking books, to take inventory of how my life lines up to what He says.
One of them was my attitude toward my country. I had become, in recent years, anti-American. Looking back, I see a few reasons:
My spiritual-sounding reason had to do with wanting to pledge allegiance to God, above all. I still remember my dad asking if my kids said the pledge of allegiance each day before school, as we did growing up. I chuckled, “Dad, my kids don’t even know the pledge of allegiance.” I’m ashamed to say that I felt proud of that somehow, like I was making my kids Jesus-lovers by denying them knowledge of our nation’s history.
See, my heart was right-ish but off-ish: We are ultimately citizens of heaven, this world is not our home, and so in my desire to have no other God beside Him, I wanted to be sure that no other allegiances neared the throne. That’s fine, certainly, of course my love for God trumps all other loves, but in my over-zeal for this I had actually neglected the land God’s called me to love.
This can happen in any area. For example, I can be so over-focused the outward mission of God, that I neglect my marriage and my children. I can ignore them while I’m off “reaching the lost.” The lesson for me this past year is that it is precisely IN the discipling, loving, nurturing, and caring for my family that I am best able to reach a lost world Christ loves. Our families, our relationships, our marriages, the virtue of our lives and the way we love others, were meant to serve as lights—cities on a hill—for all to see.
If I neglect my home, I miss the mission.
And if I neglect my homeland, I might miss His mission too.
Now, I can see the sadly shallow reasons as well. Like many Gen-X-ers, I was sucked in by an arrogant, anti-American attitude. Some of it is nothing more than mindlessly following the “cool crowd,” like insecure middle-schoolers. It’s cool to travel abroad, it’s lame to roadtrip America. It’s cool to eat ethnic food, it’s lame to eat American food. It’s cool to quote Ghandi, it’s lame to quote any of our founding fathers. It’s cool to bash America, it’s lame to laud America. Think about it: If you wanted to buy an American flag t-shirt, let’s just say you wouldn’t go to Nordstrom, you’d hit Walmart. The general attitude is that patriotic people are old, uneducated, narrow-minded xenophobics who shop at Walmart, love Norman Rockwell art and think the world is white. It’s sad to even write this, but it’s true. I would never have had any American-flag decor anywhere near my property or person—so not cool. Fourth of July parades? Please.
In so many ways, I never left 8th grade.
Added into all this is the misunderstanding that patriotism is the same as nationalism. Patriotism has been vilified, at least in my far-left corner of the country. If I dared to love my country, wouldn’t that mean I didn’t love the world? Afraid of being seen as a xenophobic, unwelcoming, ethnocentric, minority-hating person, it seemed safer just to join the crowd and scoff at America along with most everyone else under 40. Besides, the term “American dream” has become synonymous with self-seeking — most certainly not in line with gospel-living.
So what happened? The first was that during my 40-day fast, God gave me an overwhelming burden to pray for our nation. With Daniel 9 confession, repentance, and intercession, He began to make me care about the state of the country where He had sovereignly placed me. I was struck by the fact that God chose for me to be born here, and in a place of such tremendous privilege we therefore have a tremendous responsibility. To whom much is given, much is required.
We have traveled to 5 of the 7 continents in the world, and yet we know that God has called us to live and serve and minister here. We send much of our resources overseas, as we will continue to do, to help alleviate suffering, and we want to strive to draw attention to the plight of the poor worldwide, but how will I serve and love and bless this place where I live? Do I just turn up my nose in anti-American snobbery and lament at how she’s fallen?
Secondly, my heart began to change, quite simply, as I taught my kids history! Sadly, the one subject I sorely missed as a kid was American history. Honestly, I don’t remember ever learning anything about the history of our country. I think my 7th grade American history teacher had us fill out March Madness brackets and learn the state capitals and that was it. No disrespect, I just never learned about our rich heritage, I never saw the spiritual side of our nation’s founding, I never knew the whole purpose was that we’d be a city on a hill, a beacon of hope and light and freedom to the world around. I never knew the inscription on the statue of liberty, I never knew the words of Washington, Adams, Franklin, Lincoln…men who were, of course, not perfect, but willing to give their lives for the sake of this experiment in freedom called America.
And finally, I was struck by Romans 13, and the clear command to submit to governing authorities and while of course I have always paid taxes to whom taxes are due, it then says to give “honor to whom honor is due.” It hit me:
We have lost honor.
My close friends know, that when we felt God leading us to have more kids, He put several names on our hearts. The first was the girl’s name Honor. I was so excited to have a little girl named Honor.
Then we miscarried. While I was up all night going through the miscarriage, I prayed to God for clarity on what was happening. So clearly I heard:
This was Honor.
Now I believe Honor is safe and secure in heaven and I will see her someday, but I grieved the spiritual significance of what happened.
We have lost honor.
Sure, many of our leaders have done shameful things. No one is pretending they haven’t. But as I have earnestly prayed about how to relate to our leaders, I have consistently been led to this clear command: Honor. Just as you do with your husbands — you may not agree with every choice, you may even despise some of the things he does, but you honor and respect him not because he deserves it, but because God has commanded it. You get on your face and PRAY FOR HIM daily, not because He’s earned it, but because God commands it. Of course you may disagree, you may respectfully voice your vote and even make an impassioned plea when you think he’s gone astray … but you never cease to honor.
It saddens me to see so many Christians behaving in a dishonorable way. We mock our nation’s leaders, create disrespectful memes and hashtags, we use sarcasm and blatantly disrespect. How on earth do we expect our children to respect us when we openly disrespect those whom God has placed in authority over us? We will reap what we sow. During the 8 years of Obama’s term, even if I didn’t agree with what he did, I never disrespected him. Never to my children, never online, never in a joke or crass word. During the election, I saw a friend’s FB status that subtly made fun of Hillary Clinton. It was clever and funny, so I clicked “like,” but I was immediately convicted.
With every click I am either creating–or destroying–a culture of honor. I would encourage Christians, no matter where you are politically, to uphold a culture of honor. Not because a certain leader deserves it, but because God commands it.
So how will I respond?
- I want to diligently teach my children the godly heritage we have in America, that the whole purpose of American freedom was for the sake of others, not for ourselves.
- I want to cultivate a culture of honor. I want to teach my children to honor their elders, veterans, those in positions of authority, because God commands it, and by obeying Him we will bless His heart.
- I want to venerate heroes. Our culture has sunken into such a sad state of cynicism and pessimism. The news is almost always degrading, despising, discouraging. I want to put examples in front of their faces of heroes, men and women who have risked their lives for the gospel, for their country, for others.
- I want to love my country. Not worship, not idolize, but love in a healthy way. I want to teach my kids to love this place where God has placed us, to be grateful, and to pray for her.
- I want to celebrate virtue. Self-government and freedom will not work without virtue. I want to point out and draw attention to and celebrate example of virtue anywhere I see them. Politics are downstream from culture. By impacting our culture, we create the biggest impact of all.
And finally, we put up an American flag. 🙂 It might not be cool, but it will remind us of our commitment to pray for this place God has put us, to love her and earnestly implore that God will have mercy on us and draw us back to Him.
{Happy Memorial Day. Thanks for reading.}
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.}
Recipes & practical stuff {last post of the fasting series!}
Let’s finish with some nitty-gritty practical details. I realize this might be a little late–I’ve heard from several of you that you’re already in the middle of your 40-day fast. But whether you’re already in the middle, or still considering and praying about embarking on a fast, hopefully these “field notes” will be encouraging along the way.
FASTING SURVIVAL GUIDE
The day before the fast began, a dear friend gifted me with what she called a “fasting survival guide.”
In an incredible labor of love, she put together a special journal with a color-coordinated pen 😉 and a special message and scripture tucked away into a tiny envelope at the top of the page for each day of the fast. Every single day! Every single morning I would come downstairs, get my Bible and my journal, and open my special envelope and read her encouraging message and scripture. 
It was SUCH a huge blessing to have this personal encouragement and to have a special verse from God to begin my day. It also helped me be mindful about journalling every day, and keeping record of all the emotions, experiences, and insights from God. I can’t imagine doing the fast without it — it was truly my survival kit!
RECIPES
I only share these as an example of one way to embark on a 40 day fast. This was what I did, and it provided adequate nutrition. Physically, I felt great. I had no headaches, stomach aches, no physical issues. Of course, the Lord will guide you to what you should go, but in case this can be helpful:
Protein Shake (Breakfast)
- 1 cup rice milk (or coconut milk) plus about another cup of water/ice (Costco’s brand has no added sugar and is the best price in the 12-carton case)
- Spoonful of sunflower butter (I got at Costco)
- Vega or Orgain protein powder (Orgain chocolate is my fav, Costco carries both)
- 2 tsp. Dandy blend (optional: This is a detox tea blend that I love. But it tastes delicious without.)
Blend until smooth.
Smoothie (Lunch)
- 1 cup rice milk, coconut milk, or water
- 1/2 mango or 1 frozen peach
- 1/2 cup raspberries
- Amazing Grass superfood powder
- 5 TB chia seeds (added after blending)
Blend until smooth, then add chia.
Rice & Spinach (Dinner)
- Brown rice (Costco has a great deal on organic, short-grain brown rice that’s delicious)
Cook according to directions, then add:
- 1 TB coconut oil
- 2-3 TB hemp seeds
Serve over a plate of baby spinach.
*After a few weeks, we felt freedom to add lime juice, cilantro, and sometimes garlic or onions (which tastes like heaven after eating it plain for awhile!)
—
Final thoughts: Usually it’s easier to be hungry in the morning rather than late afternoon. Even though I’m an early-riser, I aimed to have my breakfast shake between 9-10am, lunch between 1-2pm, and then could make it to dinner around 5:30pm without completely falling apart. 😉 I’d go for a daily walk around 12:30-1:30pm which helped me really focus in prayer during hunger, plus walking made it less tempting to eat lunch early. If there was a day I felt particularly tired (or cold, which is very common when fasting) I’d take a hot shower and drink a cup of hot herbal tea.
That’s it! I know many of you are in the middle of, or just about to embark on a 40-day fast, and I’d love to hear how God leads you in your specific fast, what you lay aside, how He meets you, what you learn, etc. I’ve been struck by how simple it is to just set something–anything–aside for a season in order to seek the Father more fully.
While I’m not in the middle of a fast now, I feel like God is constantly showing me ways I can turn aside from distractions, fillers, and needless things in order to sharpen my focus and look to Him more fully. I don’t always obey His nudges, but I long to. I’ve never regretted a single moment seeking His face, and we will never regret forsaking an earthly pleasure in order to know Him more. It’ll be worth it.
{Thanks so much for following along on this series. Happy weekend. Thanks for reading.}
Freedom {Fasting series}
It was just a few weeks ago I finally felt clarity (and freedom!) concerning the Mystic/Dominic thing. I shared it in an email to my fellow fasting friends, so I figured I’d just cut and paste it here. It’s personal, so it feels kinda scary to share, but I figure what’s most personal to me might just be most personally encouraging to you. So here goes: