The Darkness has Not Overcome

Fear is sneaky.

Most days, especially when the sun is shining, I can function normally and leave the rest to God.

But then there are the times when the days have been gloomy and the girls have been testy and night falls and I'm left feeling like the locomotive of COVID-19 is barreling down the tracks toward my family and it's only a matter of time til it hits and all I can do is hunker down and wait.

On one such night last week, I actually did something right about my emotions. I talked to my husband (who's been a voice of calm in the insanity of the last few weeks) and then went up to bed and opened my Bible.

(I'm working my way through "The Story," an adaptation of the NIV that presents the words of Scripture, while in selections, as one continuous story. Reading it is much like reading any other book, with breaks for chapters rather than separate books with chapters and verses. While there are brief editorial breaks to explain themes or summarize missing sections, it's largely simply the Biblical text, and it's been a nice way for me to get a new perspective on passages that otherwise have become rote.)

I opened to my bookmark, and this is the first thing that met my eyes.

That's where the stirring of the Holy Spirit stopped me, and what I believe He impressed on my heart was exactly what I needed at that moment. I'd like to share it with you, in the hope that you may be encouraged, too. It's maybe not completely cohesive, but hopefully it's coherent!

In the beginning - As God was speaking planets and molecules into existence, He already knew that the year AD 2020 would find a pandemic sweeping the globe.

He knew it all: the beginning of COVID-19 in China; Italy's anguish; that hospitals would be unprepared; the steady creep of the disease from our continent's coasts toward its interior. He already knew every detail of what was coming, including the ones we don't know yet.

He isn't surprised; He isn't less good; He isn't less in control.

the Word - Jesus, "the Word," is the sum total of God's message to humanity. He's the culmination of everything God had said before the New Testament, everything God has promised to say to His people, and everything God is ever going to say. Think of it! All this embodied in one 33-year life on planet Earth. (Spoiler alert: His life and teaching still have ramifications for us today!)

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. - Seventh grade science tells us humans are made when an egg and sperm fuse to become a zygote. This mono-cellular carrier of a complete genetic code has all the information necessary to bring into being a fully functioning adult man or woman.

John, the writer of the above passage, tells us that it is actually an egg, a sperm, and God who make each person (although maybe not in that order...).

Psalms says God knitted my children together within my womb.

This is an issue of personal workmanship!

If I take pains that the frisky cat not claw up the afghan I crocheted - if I delight in the art and craftsmanship of my hand and my husband's and our friends' - if I hang these things on my walls and store them gently when they're not on display - how much more does my God care for the two miraculous lives He designed, built, and brought to life? We're not guaranteed a pass on suffering or even on infection, but He knows. He understands. My fear, my attempt to trust, my weakness in the face of the unknown, all of it.

And He loves my daughters more fiercely even than their mommy and daddy do, and He will work all things to good. They are safe in the hands that made them. (And while I still pray that my husband and I will be allowed to raise our children to adulthood, I also thank God for allowing us to raise them this day.)

life/light - In this time of disease, we understand our need for life much like we understand our need for light only when in a dark room in the middle of a power outage. Jesus possessed the life that was the light of all mankind.

And we killed it.

The darkness in you and the darkness in me rose up and extinguished Him. (We spend a lot of time talking about the good in everyone, but why would we put so much effort into proclaiming our goodness if there wasn't actually darkness - sin - there, too?)

He was dead.

Gone.
Kaput.
Laid in a grave.

(Have you been to a funeral? Looked in a casket? Seen it prepared to be lowered into the ground? How many of those people do you see walking down the sidewalk a week or two later?)

And for two days, it looked like the darkness had overcome.

But.

But then?

Then came Easter morning.

Please Stop Practicing Fear

COVID-19 is running rampant through our society, and it hasn't even made very many people sick yet.

Colleges are going online. Businesses are shutting corporate offices. The Army is closing bases to visitors. I even got an email from a grocery store regarding what they're doing to keep their customers safe! Solid facts seem hard to come by, as tables and charts show how much worse influenza is than coronavirus currently, yet predictions from the CDC are grim.

How do we respond? No one wants to be taken in by the boy who cried “wolf!”, but neither is it wise to disregard everything entirely.

Let's remember that God has not given us a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7a).

So if our fear is not from God, where did it come from?

Consider this seriously. Whoever planted that fear did so for a reason. He/she/it/they wanted us to react from fear. We're effectively being controlled by this source without even realizing it!

If this fear is not from God, maybe we need to consider the benefits of giving it the proverbial boot. Let's stop practicing being afraid. Let's stop training fear into our children. Let's stop making decisions motivated by fear.

So what should we do, if anything? Consider what God HAS given us: a spirit of power and love and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7b).

Let's tackle these in reverse order.

• Wash your hands. Shouldn't it seem strange to us all that this seems like a such a revolutionary concept to everyone? We've known about germs since the 1860's. That's 160 years! Of course, wash your hands, but haven't you been doing that already?
• Reduce or eliminate junk food in your diet. Sugar makes it harder for your body to fight disease. (Include pop in this category, of course, but also sports drinks – if you haven't just exercised – and fruit drinks, too.)
• Eat foods that grew from the ground or had a mother, as Jillian Michaels says. The less processing that happens in between the source and you, the better. Your body needs nutrients and minerals to function well, not to mention defeat disease. (If your diet is deficient in a certain way, consider supplements. For example, fish oil for diets low in sea food, or vitamin D3 during a Minnesota winter.)
• Drink water. Half your weight in ounces is one recommendation. (Are you bored yet?)
• Exercise. Get that body working the way God intended it!

These are “sound mind” principles. They're things that make sense, that the more health conscious among us probably already do anyway.

What about love?

• Love your neighbor by covering that cough.
• Stay home when you're sick.
• Speak/post/send words of encouragement grounded in truth rather than feeding the fear.

And power?

• Pray for your family, your community, those at high risk, those who've contracted coronavirus, the medical providers caring for them, and the family of those who have died from it.
• Consider your plans with discernment, and then live your life.

What power there is in not harboring fear!

Before I close, I would like to urge us all to slow down, stop allowing knee-jerk reactions. Stop spreading the fear. Consider your actions thoughtfully, and make well-informed decisions. This is not the first terror to come to our fair shores – nor will it be the last (think of anthrax, West Nile, ebola, SARS, to name a few from recent history). Are we going to panic every time there's a new version? Aren't we tired of running around screaming, “The sky is falling!”?

Statistics are in: 100% of people die. No one gets off this planet alive. So are we going to spend our time stressing and over-analyzing every sniffle, or are we going to live as the dignified, respectable, courageous citizens of the United States of America that we are?

John 14:27 "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (ESV)

Philippians 4:5-7 "Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (ESV)

The Struggle, Reviz

Back in May, I posted about the importance of struggles in our lives, how they help us grow, if we let them. Now, after having a daughter for five months, I've been rethinking my perspective on it all.

I don't recant anything I wrote then. It's more of a shift in attitude.

Here's what I mean:
My daughter, N, cries in her cradle.
I know that she needs a nap; I can hear the sleep-need in her voice. But she sounds so sad. And then she gives that hiccupy sob that sounds like her heart is breaking - and it threatens to break mine.
I could go in, pick her up, cuddle her, comfort her, rock her to sleep, and hold her in my arms for her entire nap.
I want to.
Or
she fusses over tummy time.
She doesn't want to work on holding up her head anymore! She's tired, and she's tired of laying her face back on the blanket on the floor. The whole rolling-over thing is complicated, and it is a toss-up whether or not she might make it work, and it's a lot of work! "Mom!" she seems to yell, "come fix this!"
And I want to fix it.
Oh, how I want to take it all away and reassure her of my loving presence.
I have done so on occasion.
A lot of the time, I don't.
I have the power to remove that sorrow from her life, yet I opt not to.
Why? Why would a loving parent allow his child - the child he loves more than breath - to be sad, lonely, upset? How can a parent call himself loving when he could fix it, but doesn't? Why would a parent put himself through those tears and heartache when even he would like to swoop in with a rescue?
I know why I do.
I have a bigger picture in mind than little five-month-old N can imagine. I can see the results when I have given in too often. I have a goal of health and happiness in mind for N that allows me to push through discomfort - hers and mine - in order to reach it. (And, I have a stellar husband who is my biggest cheerleader, my fellow disciplinarian, and the foremost member of my support system!)

This all has been affecting my change of mind. I have always seen God as the loving but firm Father, the one who disciplines us à la Hebrews 12:3-11.

"God is treating you as sons," the passage says of times of discipline.  "He disciplines us for our good. . . . For the moment all discipline seems painful . . . but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."

How stoic those words can seem! How stiff and unbending we can make God appear when we toss out these words of "comfort" to someone in the midst of their struggle.

Is this God? Is this our heavenly Father? Is this His heart?

"[Do not] be weary" in times of discipline, the author urges, because "the Lord disciplines the one he loves." This, too, sounded condescending but firm to my childish heart. "Don't be sad about the hurt," I once heard, "It's all for your good in the end, so brush it off and have a good attitude."

But, not being a parent yet, I missed something.

12:3 begins, "Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself." Who is this? Jesus, of course, whom 5:7 describes this way: "In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears . . . " This is the same Jesus that 4:15 assures us "sympathize[s] with our weaknesses."

This is me with N. This is the sadness I experience with her. This is my heart, aching to fix things for her, able to fix things for her, yet knowing, because of my love for her, that I must not.

You know what that tells me?

God hurts with us.

Think of that! The Creator of the universe, the one with all power and all knowledge, the one who knows that the struggle is important, He feels our pain with us! He is not up there somewhere, smiling grimly or grinning gleefully over our misery. He hurts for our pain, so much so that He exchanged His only begotten Son for us adopted sons in order to put things to rights.

Of course, everything is not all put to right yet. We still feel the effects of a broken world and our own broken souls. We're in process still, and that means growing pains as we go, and it means sharp, piercing pains as the filth is dug out of us like infection out of a tooth.

But don't lose heart in the pain. This discipline - literally, disciple-making - has been carefully chosen, painstakingly vetted as the right tool for the task of producing a holiness like our big Brother's.

And, even more so, take comfort:
Those tears you've cried over that struggle in your life or in the life of your loved one - He's cried with you. That ache in your heart from the unresolved issue that constantly nags and threatens and circles back for more - He feels it, too.

He's your Daddy, and He hurts with you.

He Cared Enough to Give Us Christmas!

Having an infant gives me a whole new appreciation for Christmas.

I've believed for as long as I can remember that Jesus, the God-Man, came to earth as a baby about 2000 years ago. Now, though, as my own child nears five months old, I realize that at one time, Jesus, the Word of God through whom the galaxies burst into existence, was Himself nearing five months old. (How can the age of the Eternal be measured in mere months?)

His mother was young, younger than me. His world was chaotic and scary.

Was Mary frightened at times, raising a baby? I am. It is a vulnerable thing to have so much of my soul wrapped in such a helpless bundle. I hope the best for her, pray that she will seek the heart of God and be kept far from evil men and women, but I know she will feel pain in some form someday. No wonder Simeon told Mary that a sword would pierce her own heart; her son had a certain future of pain, far beyond what I might realistically expect for little N. (But who ever claimed a mother's ruminations are realistic?)

Every time I read a book or watch a movie where a child is endangered or suffering, I immediately see my child there, feel an inkling of the desperation I imagine I might feel if that were my baby there, going through that. (A vivid imagination can be both a blessing and a curse.)

Or I wonder if I may inadvertently hurt her; there are certainly enough ways to fear doing so. Sometimes it seems there are so many options for fear surrounding a child that it is hard to know which is the lesser: Do I fear vaccines, or do I fear not vaccinating? Do I fear co-sleeping? letting her sleep on her belly? creating a dependency by holding her while she sleeps? risking the health effects of her not getting adequate sleep? (I don't think the "experts" mean to be cruel or manipulative as they encourage parents to avoid or embrace certain behaviors, but it's hard not to hear, "If you don't do as we say, you are knowingly endangering the very life of that little person you love with every fiber of your being . . .")

Sorry if you're tired of my going on about fear lately . . . it's just what is on my mind lately.

I heard a pastor on the radio recently (I wish I could remember which one so I could give proper credit) who said that Satan wants us to live either in the past through our regrets or in the future via our worries, because we can only worship God in the present, and that is the last thing he wants us to do. (Obviously, I've been having more trouble with the one, lately.)

But look at young Mary: she sure had plenty of things she could have feared. She was young, unwed, and pregnant. Her intended was planning to divorce her, which was the better of the two most likely options for her, the other being death. Her world didn't value life, especially the lives of the most vulnerable. Her options as a single mother weren't good, poverty and disgrace at best.

And yet, this remarkable teen chose praise.

"May soul magnifies the Lord," she said, "and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior."
She rejoiced? In her trouble? In her uncertainty? I would have expected her to feel forgotten or even picked on. But instead, "he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. . . . from now on all generations will call me blessed."

Now there's perspective for you. But she wasn't done yet.

"He who is mighty has done great things for me."

Is He mighty? Do I really believe that? Or is He really strong, but just not strong enough for this problem this time? Do I live like I think my problems - or potential problems - might just be the ones that surpass the limits of His abilities?

Yes, He has done great things for me. Why do I keep assuming His works are in my past but not for my future?

Maybe it's because I am forgetting to worship.

After all, this isn't just the God of the universe sitting upon His heavenly throne. He also isn't just the man who touched the untouchables. He is the One who inhabited the womb, the arms, the heart of a young mother.

He knows. He understands. He came with all the frailties and vulnerabilities of the baby sleeping across the room from me now.

Why? Who forced Him into this Christmas thing? What Being with that sort of power would simply hang it all up for the chance to go through diapers, learning language, puberty?

Someone who cares.
Someone who cares a lot.
Someone who cares a lot about me.
Someone who cares a lot about my life and my worries.
Someone who cares a lot about this precious little girl of mine.

Thank God that He cared enough to give us a Christmas.

A Foray into Fear

As a mother, I have stared down the throat of fear like never before.

It comes and goes, but when it comes, it's intense.

During our pregnancy, plenty of reasons to fear surfaced. What if something is wrong? We can't see the baby in utero, so what if his or her heart stops? We might not know for days. Or so-called mother's intuition - how do I know if something is just a worry or if something is actually awry? We were excited for the baby's birth if for no other reason than that we could see the rise and fall of that little chest for ourselves!

New fears took their place with N's birth: does her breathing sound normal? Do I dare let her sleep next to me? Should I worry about SIDS or not? Am I changing her diaper often enough?

Some fears come around daily; others, I've managed to release with time; some, though, come flying out of what seems like nowhere, and those are the hardest to prepare for.

I had an encounter with one of the third kind recently, and it had to do with vaccines.

P and I have been doing our research. We've read about each disease, its likelihood of occurrence, and its complications. We weighed that against each vaccine, the ingredients of each, and their side effects. We took into account our life situation and the circumstances surrounding N's likely childhood. Then, we made our decisions. I thought I was at peace with it all.

But then came the night before her first appointment.

Fear filled me as I watched our bright-eyed little girl laugh, chatter, and squirm. What if she was one of those rare cases who comes down with a horrendous side effect? What if our active, happy baby girl was irreparably changed - forever - within a matter of a few hours?

Thankfully, I had the good sense to talk to P about it before bed that evening.

"Are we doing the right thing? Did we make the right decisions?"

He looked at me levely and simply said, "We made the right decisions."

His confidence jolted me out of my tizzy of worry and gave me the reassurance I needed to fall asleep.

That's when the whole thing got strange.

I dreamed that he and I were trying to pray together when he suddenly started saying, "I'm just so afraid," over and over. A Bible verse flashed through my mind: "God has not given us a spirit of fear..." (2 Timothy 1:7). I realized that the unexplained fear couldn't be coming from God, which meant it had dark origins. I am not one to witch hunt, nor am I very comfortable talking about the presence of demonic forces, but, in my dream, that was the only thing to which I could contribute this oppressive fear.

Still, I hesitated to say anything. That's when we both began to be paralyzed. We couldn't move our limbs, breathing became difficult, and speaking was nearly impossible. I knew then that I couldn't stay silent and began gasping Jesus' name.

The paralysis began to wane, so I stopped speaking, only to have it then return, so I started calling on Jesus again. This time it receded for good.

That's when I woke up, or thought I did. I was back in my own bed, P sleeping beside me, and I could hear N softly babbling like she will at times. The thought occurred, what if the demonic oppression was there because it was trying to get at N?

I woke P and asked him to check, make sure she was okay.

She wasn't in her cradle; she was laying between us in the bed. She was fine.

But how did she get there? P said he hadn't put her there. "I must have walked in my sleep," was my conclusion, and we went back to sleep.

The next morning, I realized that none of the second part had actually happened. I had dreamt all of it, which P confirmed when I told him about it.

At first, I only shook my head over the weird things a brain can do while a body is at rest. I probably ate something that disagreed with me, right? Trust me, I do not get into interpreting my dreams - at all. I believe God can and does use dreams to minister to people, but the dream's message is always confirmed through Scripture. Besides, I really didn't see God using them in that way in my life. I figured that I'm too skeptical for Him to want to use them to speak to me.

Whether this was a divine message or not, as I ruminated upon it, I took comfort in a couple aspects of the dream. Firstly, that I knew where to turn to do spiritual battle. Secondly, that whatever it was that was going on, none of us were harmed in either section of the dream. Finally, that N not only was fine, but also that she showed up between us, in a place of protection.

P prayed with me before he left for work, and I made the trip to the clinic with far less trepidation than I had felt earlier.

After N's appointment, we made it in time for my Wednesday morning Bible study. We're studying Hebrews right now, and I am loving it! I had prepared by going through the material for the week, but two verses nearly leapt off the page as we read the passage that morning: "Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood,  he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Hebrews 2:14-15).

Fear, specifically the fear of death, means slavery. We walked in that fear before salvation - were doomed to it for life.

But Jesus.

Jesus saw our frail composition and took it upon Himself.
He destroyed death's power by defeating its king.

When I made the decision to make Jesus my King, I left death's dominion. In the face of my impotence, however, I tend to totally forget God's omnipotence. In my weakness, I go back for visits into slavery to fear when I forget that He has all things under His control.

God's omnipotence means that all things work together into His plan (Romans 8:28).

All things.

Vaccines, diseases, life decisions.
Politics, elections, the fates of nations.

He isn't up there trying to figure out how to clean up our messes; He ordains every situation and every outcome, using them for the good of His Church and for His glory.

With a King like that, how can I fear?

The Struggle

Our little family is in the third trimester now.

Third trimester.

That sounds so much scarier than the first or second trimester did. Now, labor is impending. A birth is coming and coming soon. We are closer now to being honest-to-goodness parents than we are to our past of being just a couple.

All this has been brought forcefully to my full attention as I wait to hear from one of my dear friends who is laboring to bring their daughter into this outside world. I have been praying for the three of them in the silence between text updates, trying not to worry over long silences, practicing trusting that all is well when I so desperately desire that nothing go wrong for our dear friends.

All of which makes me think of the last time I worked in our church nursery.

It was a fairly full Sunday, but we volunteers were handling it well. I was cuddling and rocking a little boy who was sleepy/weepy, which lent me the chance to observe some of the others. There was the brother-sister duo who were playing with the plastic food, the little guy who wanted to read books, and one particular little girl who was on a mission of her own making.

She was attempting to climb up onto the Little Tykes slide, which, ordinarily would not have been much of a challenge for her. She had, for whatever reason, decided that today she wanted to take a a toy up there with her.

This was a good-sized toy, not too heavy, but cumbersome enough that she had to push and prod and shuffle it around while trying to get a leg up on the playset, cacthing it as it threatened to tumble from a precarious perch, adjusting it, and trying again.

My rocker was close to the playset, and I found myself ready to lean over and reach out a hand. One little push and it would be easily centered on the platform above the slide and all that would remain would be for her to follow it herself. Mission accomplished, right?

But before I could lean over and act on the impulse to rescue her, the thought flashed across my mind, "The struggle is important."

I sat back, wondering where the thought had come from, and just that quickly, she had pushed the toy to a secure position and crawled up after it.

The struggle is important.

Sometimes, it is simply important in the sense of accomplishment that follows knowing we persevered when it was hard and got it done anyway.

It is certainly important to the development of infants and toddlers as they learn to hold up their heads, roll over, crawl, run.

Children struggle to read or write or do simple sums but later go on to college and grad school where they have a whole new set of struggles to vanquish.

And parents get to go through their own struggles of pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing - and then they look back and wonder where the time went.

All these struggles are a prelude to learning more, doing more, being more. There is no growth where there is no struggle.

The struggle is important.

Of course, we have families - families of blood and families of Spirit - who gather around us, support us in our struggles, help us with the resources to make it through, and sometimes even remove the struggle from our lives. They are an important part of life, placed there by God's own loving hand of provision.

But we must not be too quick to pray for the removal of our struggles. We must not be so short-sighted as to assume that the faster an issue is resolved, the better it is for us or for our struggling friend.

Growth happens in the action of struggling. Yes, we can grow bitter, but if we truly believe that the struggle is important, we are more likely to lean into the pain, eager for the outcome that rewards at the end.

Sometimes, that outcome is one successful step.
Sometimes, we are rewarded by discovering a world of possibilities between the pages of a book.
And sometimes, after the struggle, we get to meet our very own flesh and blood.

By Definition

“When words lose their meanings, people lose their lives.”

In a sense, I feel I have already lived too long when I can say that I have seen one of the oldest words in human history lose its meaning here in this fair country.

This has not been a win-lose equation. This is no zero-sum game. We have all lost.

Oh, my brothers and sisters, we have had the seven years of plenty. Are you ready for the seven of famine?

When wickedness feels threatened, it will either flee or attack. With this ruling, it is done with fleeing; but it will not be finished feeling threatened.

Choose this day whom you will serve. Then stand therefore.

Do not think that this is a clash of preferences, of cultures, of demographics, or even of individuals. Our struggle is against powers and spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

Do not believe that this is a new problem, that we are the first to encounter such straits.

Our international family has lived – and yes, grown – under such circumstances for two thousand years. America and representation and liberty have not been the norm for this family. Think rather of North Korea, of China, of ISIS, of Hitler, and you will come to know what to expect.

Expect trouble.

Expect pastors in prison for standing by their convictions.

Expect parents losing their children for teaching them Biblical morality.

Expect friends to desert you, to slander and to vilify you.

Expect religious organizations – including schools and hospitals – to be sued into nonexistence when they want to hire according to their beliefs.

Expect all this to be only the beginning.

Expect to be hated. He said we would be. After all, He was hated.

But He has overcome.

So take heart.

Live your salvation.

Have faith.

Act righteously.

Speak truth.

Welcome the Spirit who lives in you.

Abide in His Word.

Refuse to panic.

Be the embodiment of love.

Walk in peace.

Pray.

And having done all, stand.

Did God? Or Did I?

Last weekend has left me pondering the supremacy of God in tension with the free will of humanity.

Two tragic deaths occurred within hours of each other. On Thursday night, friends lost their infant son. He was born with a rare heart condition but lived long enough for the natural familial love to grow stronger through enjoying daily interactions and reveling in his personality. On Friday morning, my husband and I were driving to a church event and came upon the detour caused by a crash which resulted in the death of a husband and father from our church. A semi-driver had failed to notice the intersection.

How does faith meet with real life when we desperately desire to discover that it has all been a bad dream?

I know that God allows choice. He started with Adam and Eve and hasn't changed since then. We know what they chose. Is that what God wanted? Or did He give them the choice in spite of what they would do with their freedom? Was their disobedience and His plan for buying humanity back His original plan, or was it some sort of beautiful patch-up job?

But I also know that God had every day of every life numbered before a person draws breath. That means that, should someone hold a gun to my head, I can rest easy because, if it is not in God's plan that I die that day, there is nothing that person could do to kill me; yet, if God's story for my present life
closes at that point, nothing anyone does can change it.

So which is it?

Did God's plan make allowance for disease and human error and plain evil, knowing all the while that He could still work beauty?

Or were these tragedies part of His will from the get-go since no one can change what He has done?

And what about moral failure? Surely this is another sort of death, as Adam and Eve discovered. Surely God's plan couldn't actually include sin in the life of His child!

I know that I am not the first to ask these question. I will certainly not be the last. Yet knowing that I am not alone in the confusion provides poor comfort.

These morose mental musings of mine received an abrupt shaking on Monday morning, when a text surprised me. Our fourth nephew had decided to make an early entrance, and the joy of a new life appeared as a beacon, as if this new development promised that a turn for the better had taken place.

His safe and unexpected arrival jolted me enough that I could grab some perspective: there's more going on in all of this.

Whatever combination of God's plan and human action occurred this past weekend, the result is that two are in heaven, and God is making their stories beautiful. They have life like never before, joy beyond our imaginings. They receive His rest as they await their bodily resurrection.

When God's child fails - and every one of us will until we are finally and fully freed from sin through the first death - there is another (sort of) resurrection that can occur. With the admission of guilt and the plea for forgiveness comes a continuing of the new life that breathes into us from the time of salvation to our physical death. We are not saved again, but we are reminded of our death to sin and our being raised to new life in Christ. We begin again, much like beginning a new life, continuing to trust in His plans for us.

And they are good plans.

I know that, whatever the God-ordained combination might be of my working and His planning, His eyes never widen in alarm over my decisions, and He works my decisions into His will. It doesn't matter that I can't understand it all. (That's why He is God and I am not!) What matters is my response: trust? or panic?

And much like the birth of our little nephew this Monday morning, hope is born in my heart with every reminder of God's overwhelming love for me, of His gift of more grace than I know what to do with, of my freedom from striving and guilt.
And it comes unexpectedly.
And it comes beautifully.

Faithful Seasons and Seasons of Faith

Seasons are fascinating phenomena. Around and around they go, dependable as clockwork, yet with their own volatility. Will it be a wet spring? dry summer? long fall? hard winter?

Each has its own beauty, from the luster of summer to the darkness of winter, from the ebb of fall to the vibrancy of spring. There's a promise of the one to come, the natural sequence from the one before; timeless, yet marking time; mundane, yet marvelous.

Look at life around you - at your life. Do you see them?

Not simply the seasons of trees and grass and leaves - the seasons of your soul: they are there.

I'm in a bit of a dry patch. My husband and I are waiting for God to usher us into the next step of our life. We have planted and watered, but nothing's growing yet.

You see, we're in the process of buying our first home, and things should have been tied up long ago, but they aren't, so we wait.

None of which would be a huge issue, except that, for sundry and divers reasons, we are moving this Saturday.

I joke that we are moving out; we just aren't sure where we're moving to. (Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. It's my blog, so I get to.) And I can be fairly light-hearted about it, because we will at any rate have a roof over our heads - it just may not be the one we're working on buying.

But the fact is that I've checked my email for that specific note of confirmation at least twenty times today, and every time, my expectation mounts because this time, this time, surely God will have pulled things along for us.

And it's still not there.
(I just checked, even though every business office within five time zones is closed.)

And I think, "Why isn't it? Why aren't my prayers going anywhere?"

And then I think, "Maybe God's teaching me patience. Or to trust Him more. Or to lean on His timing."

And then I think, "What if He wants to teach me to trust Him by getting denied for the house?"

Oh, worries.

I never have these sorts of worries in seasons of peace and surety. I bask in the light of God's smile, enjoy my rest after the most recent patch of rough waters (or explosive volcanoes), and wonder how I could have doubted Him. Next time (I think), surely, I will handle things better because now I know He is able, so much more able!

But then, I start to get a little restless, because I see myself growing complacent, and I remember the verse about the disciplining of those whom God loves and wonder if I'm out of touch with my Lord because I haven't grown lately.

And then the Master of the Universe, the One who instructs the seasons in their timely dance, tilts His head and chuckles, because He knows what will happen as soon as He causes the seasons of my life to turn once again:
panic,
prayer,
pleading,
and basically looking to remove the inconvenience as quickly as possible to restore my sense of control.

Yet, He is willing to teach me until I learn; so He sends me the storms, the rains, the blizzards, and holds my hand as I struggle through the winds and waves and drifts. He patiently waits for me to realize that my strength is insufficient, to reach out to Him, and to rest in His arms as He once again carries me.

And from my place of safety, I seem to hear things calming down around me.
I peek out into the genial warmth of His pleasure.
His Word, like a rainbow, reaches from horizon to horizon and shouts His promises to me.
And I know that His love has once again brought me through that season -
just as it shall bring me through this one.

Tough Stuff

I know I haven't blogged in ages and I have been wanting to before the summer really picks up speed again. I would like to write something perky, but that hasn't been what has been going on lately, so it's hard for me to write with any heart when my mind is elsewhere. So, I've been putting it off (which isn't hard, considering everything I could be doing rather than sitting here typing). But, I guess it's time; I know I probably won't get another chance to blog for a while.

We've been walking through some tough things lately.

It's one thing to be hurt by someone who doesn't profess faith or hold to anything I hold dear, but it's a whole different sort of sucker punch when the offender is among the ranks of my Christian family.

It's one thing when it's just a single incident and I can forgive them and let it blow past, but it's a different sort of betrayal when it is ongoing, without remorse, and repetitive.

It's one thing to gather the courage to approach someone and experience reconciliation, but it's draining to have to decide again if I'm going to tackle a new offense again when I know that they won't listen, won't admit fault, and won't change again.

And it's one thing to be upset with someone far away whom I never see, but it's a different sort of beast when I see them frequently, for extended periods of time, and am under their authority.

One transgression on top of another as they proclaim Christ and his ways, and preach humility and submission to authority, and I know what's going on behind the scenes. And I watch them hurt others. And I see God's work compromised. And I can't do anything.

What is the Christ-like thing to do?

He prayed for forgiveness for His enemies from the cross.
But what does forgiveness look like in a case of unacknowledged sin? Is it acceptance? But then they are surprised when I say that something is amiss. I cannot pretend that everything is fine; it's not. But I am so tired of pushing back. I don't want to be the trouble-maker! I want things to go well; I want to be friends; I don't want to fight. I have turned the other cheek - over and over and over.

Besides, Jesus also turned the moneychangers out of the temple.
A head-on confrontation? Been there, done that. It meets with finger pointing, reversing the blame, claiming authority, and a willingness to only address the most superficial of issues. And afterwards, nothing changes.

I have wondered if maybe I was at fault.
If there were something that I could mend to make things better, I would. If I could apologize in order to fix the situation, I would. (I have.) But I can't believe with any sort of intellectual integrity that this is my fault. I've examined myself; my motives aren't always pure and I have at times responded out of anger, but this isn't to be laid at my feet.

And I watch it continue, and I see others being hurt by the same situation, and I ask God to intervene in a God-sized way.

Because I can't.

Because I have bled, labored, and wept.
But it isn't enough.
And it won't be until God shows up.

Meanwhile, I read Psalms 61, 62, and 63 and am reminded that He is the rock that is higher than I, that He will be my help, that I shall not be shaken, and that I will sing for joy in the shadow of His wings.

A Man Called Daniel

A few weeks back, I happened upon the book of Daniel and started reading through Daniel 6, the story of Daniel in the lions' den. Now, I doubt that anyone who spent any time in Sunday school could have escaped the experience without becoming terribly familiar with the story. Yet, (surprise, surprise) the child's version of the story leaves out a lot, a lot of good stuff, a lot of stuff that I was reminded of as I read through it.

So, in case you haven't revisited the story in a while, I thought I would share the experience with you. Below, you will find Daniel 6 from the ESV, with my thoughts thrown in in blue. Enjoy!


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It pleased Darius to set over the kingdom 120 satraps, to be throughout the whole kingdom; Darius had just taken over the kingdom at the end of the last chapter. Being a decently smart chap, he seems to keep some of the same officials, the guys who know what's going on and how things work. If you read the story in chapter 5, you'll see how Daniel had been newly promoted to third in command and so was perfectly poised to be in leadership under Darius. What a coincidence! Almost like someone planned it!

 ² and over them three high officials, of whom Daniel was one, to whom these satraps should give account, so that the king might suffer no loss. The whole point of these three was to make sure the king got his due. 120 satraps are a lot to keep track of, but 3 presidents are more manageable.  

³ Then this Daniel became distinguished above all the other high officials and satraps, because an excellent spirit was in him. I would like an excellent spirit. Wouldn't you? 

And the king planned to set him over the whole kingdom. ⁴ Then the high officials and the satraps sought to find a ground for complaint against Daniel with regard to the kingdom, but they could find no ground for complaint or any fault, because he was faithful, and no error or fault was found in him. Wow! No complaint, no fault, no error. He was faithful. That should be every Christian in the workforce. 

⁵ Then these men said, “We shall not find any ground for complaint against this Daniel unless we find it in connection with the law of his God.” I find this so neat, that these guys had seen enough of Daniel and that Daniel was transparent enough that they knew that they weren't going to get this guy unless they could make up something that would go against his faith. His faith wasn't inherently bad for them, they just knew that he would choose his God over any other rule. But he wasn't belligerent or antagonistic about it; no one could complain about anything about him. Now that's a testimony.

⁶ Then these high officials and satraps came by agreement - the footnote here says they "came thronging." Talk about the pressure of the group on the individual.

to the king and said to him, “O King Darius, live forever! ⁷ All "all?" 

the high officials of the kingdom, the prefects and the satraps, the counselors and the governors are agreed that the king should establish an ordinance and enforce an injunction, that whoever makes petition to any god or man for thirty days, except to you, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions. ⁸ Now, O king, establish the injunction and sign the document, so that it cannot be changed, according to the law of the Medes and the Persians, which cannot be revoked.” ⁹ Therefore King Darius signed the document and injunction. Ok, I thought Darius was a decently smart chap. Did he not see Daniel was missing? Or did he assume these guys spoke for Daniel too? Or did he just completely forget about his favorite amid the overwhelming flattery of all these people standing before him?

¹⁰ When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, I am so excited the Bible includes that phrase! Daniel knew the document had been signed. He was a politician. He understand exactly what was on the line. I can imagine that if that phrase wasn't included, we would be able to excuse the heroism that comes next. After all, if he wasn't informed, maybe he responded differently than he would have if he knew the danger. Don't we love to diminish others' faithful actions? 

he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously. No change. Just as he had done previously. He didn't even keep the windows shut for his own safety. Wow. 

¹¹ Then these men came by agreement and found Daniel making petition and plea before his God. ¹² Then they came near and said before the king, concerning the injunction, “O king! Did you not sign an injunction, that anyone who makes petition to any god or man within thirty days except to you, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions?” The king answered and said, “The thing stands fast, according to the law of the Medes and Persians, which cannot be revoked.” ¹³ Then they answered and said before the king, “Daniel, who is one of the exiles from Judah, Notice they don't bother to say "who is one of the three presidents, your favorite one, in fact." Oh, no. He's just one of those pesky exiles from Judah. 

pays no attention to you, O king, or the injunction you have signed, but makes his petition three times a day.”

¹⁴ Then the king, when he heard these words, was much distressed and set his mind to deliver Daniel. And he labored till the sun went down to rescue him. ¹⁵ Then these men came by agreement to the king and said to the king, “Know, O king, that it is a law of the Medes and Persians that no injunction or ordinance that the king establishes can be changed.”

¹⁶ Then the king commanded, and Daniel was brought and cast into the den of lions. The king declared to Daniel, “May your God, whom you serve continually, deliver you!” Even the king knew enough about Daniel's relationship with his God that he could have some sort of hopeful glimmer before sending him to his certain death. Certain, that is, by human reckoning. 

¹⁷ And a stone was brought and laid on the mouth of the den, and the king sealed it with his own signet and with the signet of his lords, that nothing might be changed concerning Daniel. ¹⁸ Then the king went to his palace and spent the night fasting; no diversions were brought to him, and sleep fled from him.

¹⁹ Then, at break of day, the king arose and went in haste to the den of lions. ²⁰ As he came near to the den where Daniel was, he cried out in a tone of anguish. The king declared to Daniel, “O Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to deliver you from the lions?” "Is He able?" Don't we all ask that question when things get rough? "Oh, God, I know you're big, but maybe you're not this big! Are you big enough to handle this problem of mine?" Silly child. How God must smile and shake His head at us. "Don't you remember what I did for David and for Daniel and for Ruth and for Moses and . . ."  

²¹ Then Daniel said to the king, “O king, live forever! He's not bitter. He's still not belligerent. He's still faithful to the king.  

²² My God sent his angel and shut the lions' mouths, and they have not harmed me, because I was found blameless before him; and also before you, O king, I have done no harm.” Is Daniel reminding the king that he has only ever done good for the king and the kingdom? Is he simply stating why he was saved? Either way, he was right.  

²³ Then the king was exceedingly glad, I bet. 

and commanded that Daniel be taken up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no kind of harm was found on him, Whoa, "no kind of harm"? Do you know how many years of therapy would be expected to be needed in our day and age? "No kind of harm." Not only did he not have a scratch on him, he was mentally whole, not a nervous wreck from a night with the nasty, hungry lions. How is that even possible? Read on: 

because he had trusted in his God. Can you please take a minute to let that sink in? He didn't have so much as a nervous twitch from the whole experience. Why? "Because he had trusted in His God." May your God be the God of Daniel, the one who protects body and mind from lions. May you see your personal lions through the eyes of trust. 

²⁴ And the king commanded, and those men who had maliciously accused Daniel were brought and cast into the den of lions—they, their children, and their wives. And before they reached the bottom of the den, the lions overpowered them and broke all their bones in pieces.

²⁵ Then King Darius wrote to all the peoples, nations, and languages that dwell in all the earth: “Peace be multiplied to you. ²⁶ I make a decree, that in all my royal dominion people are to tremble and fear before the God of Daniel,

for he is the living God,
    enduring forever;
his kingdom shall never be destroyed,
    and his dominion shall be to the end.
²⁷ He delivers and rescues;
    he works signs and wonders
    in heaven and on earth,
he who has saved Daniel
    from the power of the lions.” How beautiful is that? What a fitting ending. Even better than "happily ever after." But we have that too if you really need it:

²⁸ So this Daniel prospered during the reign of Darius and the reign of Cyrus the Persian.

Not a Good Christian Girl Anymore

When I first considered starting a blog (in the spring of 2012), that's what I thought I would name it. Not as a jab at my Christian heritage or a rebellion against the Christian faith but as a chronicle of my struggle to leave behind acting like a Christian and start being like Christ.

"Many of us don't want to be led by the Holy Spirit. . . . Many of us don't want to be led by anyone other than ourselves." "If you say you want the Holy Spirit, you must first honestly ask yourself if you want to do His will" (from Forgotten God, by Francis Chan, pp. 50, 51).

I ask God for His wisdom. I beg for it. I need it now and in the life to which He is calling me.

I ask Him to move in me, that His Holy Spirit would fill me and take hold of me.

Then I turn around and do it all myself.

After all, I know what the church expects. I know what modern, American Christianity expects. If I let Him do it, He might do it wrong! It might look weird when He gets finished with it, and that would be embarrassing.

I slap God's hands away from my life and my affairs, say, "I'll handle this," and bustle off with a nod of my head.

Then it falls apart and I run back, dump it in His lap, and ask Him through my groans and tears to make it all work.

But, oh, when will I learn? If I would leave it with Him from the first, it wouldn't be broken . . . and if it looked broken in His hands (and I left it there still), I could trust Him to make it all right.

Oh! the peace of mind I sell for my "right" to have things my way!

But why do I want the Holy Spirit? Am I asking like Simon the Magician, trying to buy Him for myself (p. 84)?

Is this an effort to be "Christian cool," one of those people to whom others look up? Is it some sort of Christian club membership to me? I've always wanted to be part of that elusive inner circle, whatever the context. Is that all this desire has been?

I know that at least part of the desire comes with my life calling. I'm totally unequipped. I feel like I'm play-acting and it's only a matter of time before I'm discovered, like the Holy Spirit is my only chance at "legitimacy."

But, if God has called, isn't that legitimate enough?
When do I stop seeking my nod of approval from the world - even the "Christian" world?
When will God be enough?

Maybe when I'm done following rules and am ready to pursue a whole different way of life.
Maybe when I'm done looking good and am ready to be made good.
Maybe when I'm done focusing on myself and am ready to follow Him.

Maybe when I'm done being a good Christian girl.

Lions and Lessons

So I saw in my dream that he [Christian] made haste and went forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the porter's lodge; and looking very narrowly before him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them, for he thought nothing but death was before him. But the porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiving that Christian made a halt as if he would go back, cried unto him, saying, "Is thy strength so small? Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of those that had none. Keep in the midst of the path, no hurt shall come unto thee."

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of the lions, but taking good heed to the directions of the porter; he heard them roar, but they did him no harm.

- From The Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan

 I seem to live my life in two modes: lackadaisically or in panic.

When times are good, I enjoy, kick back, and spiritually float along. These are the times when it is easiest to make it look like I have it all together. I am calm and confident, and I have answers!

Then real life hits, the rug gets tugged, everything hits the fan. I find myself grasping for something - anything - that will firmly withstand the buffeting. Usually this involves tears and groaning prayers on my part, begging for a happy resolution and a time of respite once again.

Yet, those moments are the catalyst for growth.

My only catalyst for growth.

Think about it: I ask God to help me grow, then He sends something tough to give me the opportunity to do just that. What do I do? I ask Him to take it away.

In one sense, that's good. At least I'm turning to Him and not away from Him. But I can't rationalize it that easily. Here's why: my prayers tend to run something like this, "Dear God, please help! I don't know if even You can fix this, but please please please try!" (Of course, they sound better out loud, but that's what they boil down to.)

And what happens?

He carries me through, and I see that the lions were chained the whole time. I never was in any real danger. That circumstance, that situation, that relationship that looked out of control was always wholly under His control.

And I see Him turn to me, take my hand, and say, ever so gently, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Someday, I hope to trust Him first and skip the panic.