I don't know what it is about Tuesdays, but Tuesdays are usually rough days for me. Crazy and tragic and sad things just seem to happen to me and my loved ones on Tuesdays for some reason. Well, actually I know there's a reason. I'm sure it's no coincidence that Tuesdays just also happen to be the day that my home group meets. We're studying the book of James and it has been a deep, intense study of God's Word. All nine of us have laid our hearts out on the table. We're actively seeking to learn more about God and serve one another each week as we meet to discuss the truths found in the Scriptures.
And so, on Tuesday mornings, when I get out of bed....I'm pretty convinced that Satan shudders a little at the potential threat of a woman who is truly pursuing God with her every breath and he scrambles to see what he might find to throw in my path. Fatigue. Illness. A wounded relationship. A hard day at the office. Whatever Satan can think of, he lays it out before me in hopes that he might cause me to stumble as I hike along the rocky, narrow road of righteousness. He longs to rob me of my joy long before seven o'clock rolls around and I walk in the door at home group.
Every Tuesday is a battle. And every Tuesday Satan loses. I love it!
No matter how drained I feel before walking in the door, no matter how ill-prepared I feel to lead a discussion on the Scripture we're reading, no matter how many different directions I feel I'm being pulled in...somehow God supernaturally redirects my thoughts and allows me to focus on Him with renewed strength. Each Tuesday I leave that Bible study with such pure joy in my heart that I feel like I might explode! And the crazy part is that I'm not really exaggerating.
I was thinking a few days ago about when I was in North Carolina and we were sifting through the dirt and debris at the bottom of a waterfall looking for rubies and garnet. I thought about how that search was so similar to our spiritual quest. God has all of these great treasures for us. He has beautiful rubies that He desires to gift us with, but Satan works as hard as he can to cover them up with dirt and debris. He wants them to seem unattainable. He wants to cover them up and bury them so deeply in the things of this world (the monotony of daily living, stress, arguments, sickness, weariness, broken relationships, etc.) that we forget about them and stop even trying to pursue them.
Each Tuesday I find myself with a handfull of rubies in my pocket by the end of the day. The rubies come in the form of Bible verses that speak to my heart, text messages that make me smile huge Orbit chewing gum smiles (ding!), surprise packages left on my doorstep, out-of-the blue phone calls from loved ones, bear hugs that lift me off of the ground, blue skies that cause me to daydream, and sunsets that quite literally take my breath away.
I love ruby Tuesdays! :) ....not to be confused with the restaurant.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
roadside redeemer
I don't know why or how, but somehow I let the Devil get the best of me the other day. It started out an ordinary day. The sun rose in all its glory as it usually does. I joyfully watched its early morning rays glisten in the morning dew and never thought for a second that in just a few hours' time I'd be going to battle with Satan and his evil forces.
It was later in the afternoon when I started feeling like I was so alone. That's where the Enemy gets me. He is the father of isolation. He wants me to feel alone, betrayed, abandoned, fearful. I know these are his games, his clever tricks. He whispers "you're not good enough" in one ear and sings "you're not truly loved by anyone" in the other ear. He's good at what he does, but my God is so much better. The best thing about battling the Evil One is that I know that God is on my side and that He has already defeated Satan and his armies. But in that moment of doubt and uncertainty, it can be hard to shake loose from the devil's grip on my arm. He pursues me in my thoughts relentlessly even though he knows that my heart already belongs to Jesus Christ.
I was driving to a party where I'd be meeting up with thirty to forty friends, yet I felt alone. It was a long drive. No, it was a very long drive. Each mile seemed to stretch on forever as the devil battled for the control of mind. He told me lies. No, not the kind of lies you hear out loud in creepy, taunting voices like in the movies. The quiet kind of lies that start somewhere in the back of your brain…so far back that you think you must have come up with them all by yourself. And since you think they've come from your own mind, you think certainly they must be true. Surely, you wouldn't lie to yourself. Would you?
At last I'd had enough of this torture and I gathered all my strength to pray against the lies that were swarming my thoughts and choking my joy. As hard as I tried to pray, as much as I struggled to cast out all doubt and uncertainty, the thoughts persisted. My soul felt heavy and dark. I felt so alone.
Finally, I pulled my car over. It was a lonely stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. There I sat in my car next to some swampy water and reeds probably twice my height as cars periodically whizzed past me. I took out my "emergency Bible" and began reading the Psalms aloud. Soon the tears were flowing freely as the Psalmist's cries became my own. I begged the Lord to deliver me from my Enemy. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked," I read and wept and still the darkness persisted, weighing heavily on my soul. I tried to pray and I felt helpless to do so.
I got out of the car and walked closer to the water. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon and it was casting long shadows across the marshlands in front of me. Tiny birds were darting and chasing one another around the reeds. I heard something moving low in the grass and wondered if I might get to see a gator up close and personal. The wind whipped my hair around my face (especially as cars drove by) and the sun threatened to blind me as it continued to dip even lower in the sky.
I sat there at the water's edge and looked at God's creation stretched out before me. Nothing speaks to my heart like the beauty of creation. For me, to be outside is to feel alive. Usually that's all I need to ground me, to awaken my soul to the awesome majesty of the Creator. But on this night the darkness prevailed. The heaviness didn't lift. I prayed and prayed. I prayed so earnestly. Why wasn't God there for me? Why was I so alone?
Eventually I got back into the car, still heavy-laden and oppressed. I went to the party, but never felt truly present. I prayed throughout the night without ever understanding what I was experiencing. In fact, my night got worse. "Why are you allowing this to happen, God?" I was so dumbfounded. "I know my prayers are heard, so what's the deal God? What are you doing here? Why am I alone in this? "
It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened the night before. I was driving again, this time without the devil's whispers in my ear. I saw a sign that said "You've never cried alone. God is always there." And at that moment, it dawned on me that God had been there with me as I cried by the roadside.
I was so consumed by my self-pity as I sat there in the grass that I didn't even notice when Jesus stooped down and lifted me with such gentleness, tenderness, and strength and sat me on His lap as though I were just a tiny lamb. I didn't even notice when He wrapped His strong arms around me and held me tight, cradling me close to His chest. I was too distracted to notice the warmth of His calloused and nail-pierced hands as He laid them over my own. I never even noticed that as I was weeping, tears were streaming down His face as well.
There, on the side of the road, Jesus met me. I was never alone. I never will be alone. The Bible says it and I know it to be true. It says in Deuteronomy chapter 31, "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."
What a blessed and wonderful thought to dwell on! The Creator of the universe who causes the sun to shine so brightly, who hung the stars in the sky and causes the moon to wane and wax…that very same Holy of holies, King of kings and Lord of lords…He met me at the roadside. He was with me in the car too. Tonight as I ran, He was right there next to me. He pounded the pavement mile after mile at my side whispering "I love you, my child" from start to finish.
There will be quite a few lonely car rides before my life is over. Satan doesn't grow tired of trying to hinder the work that Christ has begun in me. But he is doomed for failure because Jesus defeated him at the cross over two thousand years ago. I will have my dark days when my eyes are shut to the goodness of God and I temporarily forget the certainty of His love and faithfulness. But He will be there nonetheless. He will hold me in the sanctuary of His loving arms. He will feel my sorrow and He will share in my joy. That's what a Father does.
It was later in the afternoon when I started feeling like I was so alone. That's where the Enemy gets me. He is the father of isolation. He wants me to feel alone, betrayed, abandoned, fearful. I know these are his games, his clever tricks. He whispers "you're not good enough" in one ear and sings "you're not truly loved by anyone" in the other ear. He's good at what he does, but my God is so much better. The best thing about battling the Evil One is that I know that God is on my side and that He has already defeated Satan and his armies. But in that moment of doubt and uncertainty, it can be hard to shake loose from the devil's grip on my arm. He pursues me in my thoughts relentlessly even though he knows that my heart already belongs to Jesus Christ.
I was driving to a party where I'd be meeting up with thirty to forty friends, yet I felt alone. It was a long drive. No, it was a very long drive. Each mile seemed to stretch on forever as the devil battled for the control of mind. He told me lies. No, not the kind of lies you hear out loud in creepy, taunting voices like in the movies. The quiet kind of lies that start somewhere in the back of your brain…so far back that you think you must have come up with them all by yourself. And since you think they've come from your own mind, you think certainly they must be true. Surely, you wouldn't lie to yourself. Would you?
At last I'd had enough of this torture and I gathered all my strength to pray against the lies that were swarming my thoughts and choking my joy. As hard as I tried to pray, as much as I struggled to cast out all doubt and uncertainty, the thoughts persisted. My soul felt heavy and dark. I felt so alone.
Finally, I pulled my car over. It was a lonely stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. There I sat in my car next to some swampy water and reeds probably twice my height as cars periodically whizzed past me. I took out my "emergency Bible" and began reading the Psalms aloud. Soon the tears were flowing freely as the Psalmist's cries became my own. I begged the Lord to deliver me from my Enemy. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked," I read and wept and still the darkness persisted, weighing heavily on my soul. I tried to pray and I felt helpless to do so.
I got out of the car and walked closer to the water. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon and it was casting long shadows across the marshlands in front of me. Tiny birds were darting and chasing one another around the reeds. I heard something moving low in the grass and wondered if I might get to see a gator up close and personal. The wind whipped my hair around my face (especially as cars drove by) and the sun threatened to blind me as it continued to dip even lower in the sky.
I sat there at the water's edge and looked at God's creation stretched out before me. Nothing speaks to my heart like the beauty of creation. For me, to be outside is to feel alive. Usually that's all I need to ground me, to awaken my soul to the awesome majesty of the Creator. But on this night the darkness prevailed. The heaviness didn't lift. I prayed and prayed. I prayed so earnestly. Why wasn't God there for me? Why was I so alone?
Eventually I got back into the car, still heavy-laden and oppressed. I went to the party, but never felt truly present. I prayed throughout the night without ever understanding what I was experiencing. In fact, my night got worse. "Why are you allowing this to happen, God?" I was so dumbfounded. "I know my prayers are heard, so what's the deal God? What are you doing here? Why am I alone in this? "
It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened the night before. I was driving again, this time without the devil's whispers in my ear. I saw a sign that said "You've never cried alone. God is always there." And at that moment, it dawned on me that God had been there with me as I cried by the roadside.
I was so consumed by my self-pity as I sat there in the grass that I didn't even notice when Jesus stooped down and lifted me with such gentleness, tenderness, and strength and sat me on His lap as though I were just a tiny lamb. I didn't even notice when He wrapped His strong arms around me and held me tight, cradling me close to His chest. I was too distracted to notice the warmth of His calloused and nail-pierced hands as He laid them over my own. I never even noticed that as I was weeping, tears were streaming down His face as well.
There, on the side of the road, Jesus met me. I was never alone. I never will be alone. The Bible says it and I know it to be true. It says in Deuteronomy chapter 31, "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."
What a blessed and wonderful thought to dwell on! The Creator of the universe who causes the sun to shine so brightly, who hung the stars in the sky and causes the moon to wane and wax…that very same Holy of holies, King of kings and Lord of lords…He met me at the roadside. He was with me in the car too. Tonight as I ran, He was right there next to me. He pounded the pavement mile after mile at my side whispering "I love you, my child" from start to finish.
There will be quite a few lonely car rides before my life is over. Satan doesn't grow tired of trying to hinder the work that Christ has begun in me. But he is doomed for failure because Jesus defeated him at the cross over two thousand years ago. I will have my dark days when my eyes are shut to the goodness of God and I temporarily forget the certainty of His love and faithfulness. But He will be there nonetheless. He will hold me in the sanctuary of His loving arms. He will feel my sorrow and He will share in my joy. That's what a Father does.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
ready to fly
Last weekend was an amazing weekend. A few friends and I surprised my friend Stacy for his birthday by "kidnapping" him and taking him to the mountains of North Carolina for some early birthday hiking and exploring during the peak of autumn with all of its radiant colors. Around each curve in the road, something new and beautiful awaited us. At one point, someone pointed out that as the colorful leaves fell from the trees, the person who caught each leaf was the first person to ever touch that particular leaf. Incredible.
We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.
Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.
On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.
This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.
Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?
I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.
Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.
Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?
I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.
Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.
We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.
Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.
On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.
This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.
Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?
I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.
Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.
Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?
I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.
Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.
Monday, October 15, 2007
arms wide open
Over the last couple of months I've had quite a few conversations with different friends about giving up our worldly possessions and about the inconsequential nature of all of our worldly goods. I've seen a few videos and heard a few sermons over these last several weeks about the injustice that's taking place in our world today and I've been reminded just how good I have it here in America, the wealthiest nation in the world.
I've certainly never been what I would ever call wealthy. Oh, I grew up in a home where my needs were always met, though sometimes by the generosity of others. We were on the receiving end more than once of our church's charity come Thanksgiving or Christmas when the canned goods were collected and distributed to the families "in need." But we never went without. My mom and dad would have done anything necessary to see to that. What must it feel like to wake up in the morning and not know where your next meal will come from? Whether there will be a warm place to sleep come nightfall.
Tonight in church we watched a slideshow of pictures from the devastation that scarred Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina made landfall a couple years go. Seeing those images up there on the big screen, larger than life…they touched something deep inside my soul. I had to ask myself what that would be like…to lose everything I own. And possibly everyone I love.
The story of Job keeps coming to mind. He lost everything he owned and everyone he loved and still he didn't curse God. How did he do it? Where does faith like that come from? A faith so unshakeable. So firm. Would my own faith withstand such weathering?
I'm not much of an "earthly treasures" kind of person. I'm not very materialistic. I don't put a lot of value in my clothes, my furniture, my house, or my car. I periodically go through all of my possessions and donate or give away as much as I can because I prefer the least amount of clutter in my life possible. I'm sentimental but not to the extreme. When that age-old question is asked about what I would save if I could only save three things from being burned in a fire, I have usually answered my pictures, my Bible, and my pillow. But that's a ridiculous question and my answers are even more absurd. A Bible and pillow are easily replaced. My pictures will one day fade to a golden brown in a box in my closet as their ink loses its color.
There's a part of me that longs to know what it feels like to be the victim of such a disaster as what those victims of Katrina faced. Or perhaps the victim of a violent tornado. To wake up one day and be grateful to simply be…alive. There's something absolutely wonderful and freeing in that thought. Don't get me wrong. I thank God that He has spared me from such tragedy. But what a wake up call to think about standing in those shoes of the man who just lost his home and everything he owned when a tornado demolished it all in just minutes. It definitely puts my pain in perspective. Who am I to complain about my loss when others have lost infinitely more?
You might think I'm crazy for seeing something wonderful and beautiful in something as tragic as a natural disaster. But storms are becoming something precious to me. The way I see it…the beauty isn't in the storm itself, it's in the rescue from the storm. To watch a community come together in a time of crisis is…beautiful. To watch the church raise money and support to rebuild homes and rebuild lives is beautiful. To truly recognize my need for a Savior....beautiful.
And so the question is…how do I live a life of extreme gratitude without having endured such extreme loss? How do I surrender everything I own and everyone I love, holding them out to God with my arms wide open, fingers outstretched…ready to be taken from my grasp at any moment? How do I live in the "perhaps today I may breathe my last breath" mentality? How do I make every second count? How do I live every single day for the cause of Jesus Christ? How do I store up all of my treasures in heaven?
With arms wide open.
But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. Philippians 3:7-9
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:19-20
I've certainly never been what I would ever call wealthy. Oh, I grew up in a home where my needs were always met, though sometimes by the generosity of others. We were on the receiving end more than once of our church's charity come Thanksgiving or Christmas when the canned goods were collected and distributed to the families "in need." But we never went without. My mom and dad would have done anything necessary to see to that. What must it feel like to wake up in the morning and not know where your next meal will come from? Whether there will be a warm place to sleep come nightfall.
Tonight in church we watched a slideshow of pictures from the devastation that scarred Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina made landfall a couple years go. Seeing those images up there on the big screen, larger than life…they touched something deep inside my soul. I had to ask myself what that would be like…to lose everything I own. And possibly everyone I love.
The story of Job keeps coming to mind. He lost everything he owned and everyone he loved and still he didn't curse God. How did he do it? Where does faith like that come from? A faith so unshakeable. So firm. Would my own faith withstand such weathering?
I'm not much of an "earthly treasures" kind of person. I'm not very materialistic. I don't put a lot of value in my clothes, my furniture, my house, or my car. I periodically go through all of my possessions and donate or give away as much as I can because I prefer the least amount of clutter in my life possible. I'm sentimental but not to the extreme. When that age-old question is asked about what I would save if I could only save three things from being burned in a fire, I have usually answered my pictures, my Bible, and my pillow. But that's a ridiculous question and my answers are even more absurd. A Bible and pillow are easily replaced. My pictures will one day fade to a golden brown in a box in my closet as their ink loses its color.
There's a part of me that longs to know what it feels like to be the victim of such a disaster as what those victims of Katrina faced. Or perhaps the victim of a violent tornado. To wake up one day and be grateful to simply be…alive. There's something absolutely wonderful and freeing in that thought. Don't get me wrong. I thank God that He has spared me from such tragedy. But what a wake up call to think about standing in those shoes of the man who just lost his home and everything he owned when a tornado demolished it all in just minutes. It definitely puts my pain in perspective. Who am I to complain about my loss when others have lost infinitely more?
You might think I'm crazy for seeing something wonderful and beautiful in something as tragic as a natural disaster. But storms are becoming something precious to me. The way I see it…the beauty isn't in the storm itself, it's in the rescue from the storm. To watch a community come together in a time of crisis is…beautiful. To watch the church raise money and support to rebuild homes and rebuild lives is beautiful. To truly recognize my need for a Savior....beautiful.
And so the question is…how do I live a life of extreme gratitude without having endured such extreme loss? How do I surrender everything I own and everyone I love, holding them out to God with my arms wide open, fingers outstretched…ready to be taken from my grasp at any moment? How do I live in the "perhaps today I may breathe my last breath" mentality? How do I make every second count? How do I live every single day for the cause of Jesus Christ? How do I store up all of my treasures in heaven?
With arms wide open.
But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. Philippians 3:7-9
For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:19-20
Saturday, September 22, 2007
rain, rain...go away
They say that when it rains it pours. Lately I feel like there's a torrential downpour going on in my life. Within about a week's time my dad was in the hospital after what the doctors thought was a heart attack, my mom found out she might have cancer again, my sister's car broke down (for good) and then to top that off she lost her job.
Summers here in Florida are silly. Each day starts out beautiful and fresh with a blue sky that melts my heart and beautiful, billowing clouds that are a field day for my imagination. I look out from my office window and pine to be set free into the outdoors every day. Trapped there behind my desk, I dream of picnics and walks in the park, swimming laps in my pool, sipping iced tea at sidewalk cafes, and sprinting through open fields! I'm really quite ridiculous. But then somewhere between the lunch hour and the time I leave work to head for the gym, the sky is usually overcome by a cloak of gray storm clouds and I quickly forget the carefree, sunshiny beauty I was so enthralled by just hours ago.
Life is like that, isn't it? I mean things can be going so great and I can be feeling so completely blessed by God. I become content receiving His blessings to the point that I expect them to continue at their "usual" pace and am disappointed when trouble or turmoil arises.
I was compiling a CD of some of my favorite worship songs awhile ago for a friend of mine who was going through a difficult time. I didn't realize until that moment that many of my favorite tunes are centered around rain. They include phrases like "when the rain comes," "grace like rain," and "let it rain, open the floodgates of heaven." As that realization resounded in my soul, I started thinking about the rain. I know that rain can appear gloomy and it can spoil our plans for a picnic or a beach day. But think about AFTER the rain…
After the rain, the earth smells fresh. The trees and the grass are a shade greener it seems. The rain is necessary for growth. Another worship song that I've heard on the radio boasts "I will praise you in the storm" …because…there is beauty in the storm! It's during the storms that we cling to Jesus out of desperation and fear. We, as Christians, grow closer to Christ in the storms of life just as surely as the grass gains its inches in the afternoon thunder storms.
And so, I welcome the storms. I will cherish the downpour. I will savor the walks in the rain with Jesus when He puts His strong, capable arm around my shoulder, walks alongside me, and calls me His "Beloved."
One of my favorite and most memorable moments was in the rain a few years ago. It was hurricane season and Universal Studios' annual Rock the Universe event was featuring one of my favorite Christian bands, Third Day. The hurricane had threatened to cancel RTU but oddly enough the rains held off and the shows went on hour by hour. Third Day would be the last band to perform if the weather held up long enough. Throughout the evening, the dark storm clouds loomed overhead but no rain came. My night at Universal wasn't a particularly great one (long story), but when it finally came time for Third Day to take the stage, I was able to put the events of my day behind me and focus on worshiping Jesus. That band truly has a talent for creating an atmosphere of worship. And so there I stood with several thousands of believers united with arms outstretched toward the heavens, worshiping the one true God with reckless abandon.
Then the cool part happened. Third Day announced that they were going to play their final song. The very first notes of "When the Rain Comes" pierced the darkness and something miraculous happened. Though it was near midnight, the sky seemed to light up and the heavens opened up. A light rain began to fall with those words, but it was unlike any other rain I've ever experienced. It fell lightly and didn't seem to make us wet. No one ran for cover. We stood there feeling it's feather-light droplets hit our faces and outstretched hands. "I can't stop the rain" they sang and I cried. My tears mingled with the rain as I stared at the bright night sky. God was in that place. He was telling us He loves us so deeply, so mightily. "When the rain comes, I will hold you" is how the song ends.
One year later, I was standing there in almost the same exact spot worshiping with Third Day and expecting a similar life-changing worship experience when my cell phone rang and I met with a completely different kind of life-altering experience altogether. It was my Mom calling from an ambulance to tell me that she and my dad had been in a car accident on their way home from dinner. A drunk driver had run a red light driving about 65 mph with his headlights off, striking my mom's door upon impact. The accident left her with a fractured knee, broken hip and shattered pelvis. Thus began another rainstorm for our family. It was a seven-month-long journey of waiting for the doctors to piece her body back together again and many, many more months of painful rehabilitation before she could walk again without the aid of a walker or cane.
And now we face the storm again with my mom's most recent diagnosis. She doesn't have cancer after all. Instead of cancer, she has a rare autoimmune disease that nobody's ever heard of. It's obscure and painful and scary. It's pouring down rain and we can barely see ten feet ahead of us. But God is with us in the storm. He has us in His grip and He won't let go. I know this to be true.
Soon I'll be on the other side of the storm. I'll be looking up at the rainbow that God has painted in the sky for me. I'll smile up at it and remember that He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For awhile, the pain of the storm will be fresh and I'll feel it like an open wound that is healing but still sensitive, tender, raw, vulnerable. After awhile I will forget the pain of the storm until another comes my way. My hope and prayer though is that I never lose sight of God's care and provision in my life. I want to not only walk with Him in the rain, but in the sunlight as well.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)
"Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants. I will proclaim the name of the LORD. Oh, praise the greatness of our God!" (Deuteronomy 32:1-3)
When The Rain Comes by Third Day
When the rain comes
it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls
you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do
I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away
When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone
Rest awhile
It'll be alright
No one loves you like I do
When the rain comes
I will hold you
Summers here in Florida are silly. Each day starts out beautiful and fresh with a blue sky that melts my heart and beautiful, billowing clouds that are a field day for my imagination. I look out from my office window and pine to be set free into the outdoors every day. Trapped there behind my desk, I dream of picnics and walks in the park, swimming laps in my pool, sipping iced tea at sidewalk cafes, and sprinting through open fields! I'm really quite ridiculous. But then somewhere between the lunch hour and the time I leave work to head for the gym, the sky is usually overcome by a cloak of gray storm clouds and I quickly forget the carefree, sunshiny beauty I was so enthralled by just hours ago.
Life is like that, isn't it? I mean things can be going so great and I can be feeling so completely blessed by God. I become content receiving His blessings to the point that I expect them to continue at their "usual" pace and am disappointed when trouble or turmoil arises.
I was compiling a CD of some of my favorite worship songs awhile ago for a friend of mine who was going through a difficult time. I didn't realize until that moment that many of my favorite tunes are centered around rain. They include phrases like "when the rain comes," "grace like rain," and "let it rain, open the floodgates of heaven." As that realization resounded in my soul, I started thinking about the rain. I know that rain can appear gloomy and it can spoil our plans for a picnic or a beach day. But think about AFTER the rain…
After the rain, the earth smells fresh. The trees and the grass are a shade greener it seems. The rain is necessary for growth. Another worship song that I've heard on the radio boasts "I will praise you in the storm" …because…there is beauty in the storm! It's during the storms that we cling to Jesus out of desperation and fear. We, as Christians, grow closer to Christ in the storms of life just as surely as the grass gains its inches in the afternoon thunder storms.
And so, I welcome the storms. I will cherish the downpour. I will savor the walks in the rain with Jesus when He puts His strong, capable arm around my shoulder, walks alongside me, and calls me His "Beloved."
One of my favorite and most memorable moments was in the rain a few years ago. It was hurricane season and Universal Studios' annual Rock the Universe event was featuring one of my favorite Christian bands, Third Day. The hurricane had threatened to cancel RTU but oddly enough the rains held off and the shows went on hour by hour. Third Day would be the last band to perform if the weather held up long enough. Throughout the evening, the dark storm clouds loomed overhead but no rain came. My night at Universal wasn't a particularly great one (long story), but when it finally came time for Third Day to take the stage, I was able to put the events of my day behind me and focus on worshiping Jesus. That band truly has a talent for creating an atmosphere of worship. And so there I stood with several thousands of believers united with arms outstretched toward the heavens, worshiping the one true God with reckless abandon.
Then the cool part happened. Third Day announced that they were going to play their final song. The very first notes of "When the Rain Comes" pierced the darkness and something miraculous happened. Though it was near midnight, the sky seemed to light up and the heavens opened up. A light rain began to fall with those words, but it was unlike any other rain I've ever experienced. It fell lightly and didn't seem to make us wet. No one ran for cover. We stood there feeling it's feather-light droplets hit our faces and outstretched hands. "I can't stop the rain" they sang and I cried. My tears mingled with the rain as I stared at the bright night sky. God was in that place. He was telling us He loves us so deeply, so mightily. "When the rain comes, I will hold you" is how the song ends.
One year later, I was standing there in almost the same exact spot worshiping with Third Day and expecting a similar life-changing worship experience when my cell phone rang and I met with a completely different kind of life-altering experience altogether. It was my Mom calling from an ambulance to tell me that she and my dad had been in a car accident on their way home from dinner. A drunk driver had run a red light driving about 65 mph with his headlights off, striking my mom's door upon impact. The accident left her with a fractured knee, broken hip and shattered pelvis. Thus began another rainstorm for our family. It was a seven-month-long journey of waiting for the doctors to piece her body back together again and many, many more months of painful rehabilitation before she could walk again without the aid of a walker or cane.
And now we face the storm again with my mom's most recent diagnosis. She doesn't have cancer after all. Instead of cancer, she has a rare autoimmune disease that nobody's ever heard of. It's obscure and painful and scary. It's pouring down rain and we can barely see ten feet ahead of us. But God is with us in the storm. He has us in His grip and He won't let go. I know this to be true.
Soon I'll be on the other side of the storm. I'll be looking up at the rainbow that God has painted in the sky for me. I'll smile up at it and remember that He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For awhile, the pain of the storm will be fresh and I'll feel it like an open wound that is healing but still sensitive, tender, raw, vulnerable. After awhile I will forget the pain of the storm until another comes my way. My hope and prayer though is that I never lose sight of God's care and provision in my life. I want to not only walk with Him in the rain, but in the sunlight as well.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)
"Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants. I will proclaim the name of the LORD. Oh, praise the greatness of our God!" (Deuteronomy 32:1-3)
When The Rain Comes by Third Day
When the rain comes
it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls
you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do
I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away
When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone
Rest awhile
It'll be alright
No one loves you like I do
When the rain comes
I will hold you
Friday, July 6, 2007
the blessed destination
I just spent a glorious week in the mountains of North Carolina. I love those mountains. Each time I visit, I try to cram in as many hikes as possible. The scenery where my family lives in Hendersonville, and in the surrounding areas, is simply breathtaking. Just being there makes me feel more alive. I've climbed a lot of mountains and hiked to a lot of waterfalls in North Carolina over the years. This trip I made my first solo expedition of one of the more familiar trails. Rising early one morning, I donned my sneakers and headed for Big Glassy Mountain, ready to welcome adventure with open arms. Of course, hiking by myself meant that I had no one to talk to…which means that I had plenty of time to think.
As I climbed, I was captivated by the beauty all around me. Every leaf and blade of grass was glistening with dew. Birds twittered and chirped their morning songs from their perches overhead. The delicate, sticky, sweet mountain laurel blossoms dotted the landscape on either side of me. As I trudged upward, butterflies darted across the path ahead of me...the sunlight that filtered through the trees briefly illuminating their brightly colored wings like bits of stained glass. In a moment of boldness, a rabbit leaped from the woods and hopped a zigzag path just steps ahead of me before disappearing into the woods again. With some wonder and trepidation of my own, I passed a copperhead sunning himself on the rocks at the stream's edge. Looking high up into the towering trees, I could see that the uppermost leaves were shimmering a beautiful hue of brilliant, inviting green as the rising sun's rays shone through them.
At the end of the trail the view awaited me, rewarding me for the strenuous climb. Here high upon the rock I could look down over the treetops to see the mountains rising in the distance. Atop the mountain beneath a vast expanse of clear, blue sky I felt so small. The mountains always make me feel small. Perhaps that's what I love so much about them. They remind me of how big and how great God truly is. Alongside His majestic creations rising thousands of feet into the air, I am instantly dwarfed as are all of my petty burdens and complaints.
That morning as I traveled upward, my thoughts drifted upward as well, far beyond the mountain's summit…toward heavenly things. I thought about how similar the Christian life is to a mountain trail. The journey is often long and at times rather steep. God never promised this life would be easy. There are rocks and tree roots to stumble upon. The Lord is always faithful to lift us up. The climb brings sweat and pain and weariness. Christ is our strength in our times of weakness. The narrow path is curvy and visibility is at a minimum, with great anticipation of what the next bend will reveal. Similarly, we must put our trust in God and have faith that He will see us through to tomorrow as we are so unsure of what it will bring.
There are wonderful and lovely surprises along the path much like the butterflies and the rabbit, but there are also dangers along the way such as the venomous snake coiled on the rocks. Through our most joyous moments and our darkest hours, the Lord is right there with us. He rejoices with us and cries with us.
Then, at the end of the trail, after many bumps and bruises…at last we arrive at our destination. At last we arrive at the relationship with our Heavenly Father that our souls have longed for from our birth. We find eternal residence with Him in heaven with a view more spectacular than we will ever be able to imagine while we live here on earth.
I can't wait to meet Jesus face to face at the top of a mountain one day!
As I climbed, I was captivated by the beauty all around me. Every leaf and blade of grass was glistening with dew. Birds twittered and chirped their morning songs from their perches overhead. The delicate, sticky, sweet mountain laurel blossoms dotted the landscape on either side of me. As I trudged upward, butterflies darted across the path ahead of me...the sunlight that filtered through the trees briefly illuminating their brightly colored wings like bits of stained glass. In a moment of boldness, a rabbit leaped from the woods and hopped a zigzag path just steps ahead of me before disappearing into the woods again. With some wonder and trepidation of my own, I passed a copperhead sunning himself on the rocks at the stream's edge. Looking high up into the towering trees, I could see that the uppermost leaves were shimmering a beautiful hue of brilliant, inviting green as the rising sun's rays shone through them.
At the end of the trail the view awaited me, rewarding me for the strenuous climb. Here high upon the rock I could look down over the treetops to see the mountains rising in the distance. Atop the mountain beneath a vast expanse of clear, blue sky I felt so small. The mountains always make me feel small. Perhaps that's what I love so much about them. They remind me of how big and how great God truly is. Alongside His majestic creations rising thousands of feet into the air, I am instantly dwarfed as are all of my petty burdens and complaints.
That morning as I traveled upward, my thoughts drifted upward as well, far beyond the mountain's summit…toward heavenly things. I thought about how similar the Christian life is to a mountain trail. The journey is often long and at times rather steep. God never promised this life would be easy. There are rocks and tree roots to stumble upon. The Lord is always faithful to lift us up. The climb brings sweat and pain and weariness. Christ is our strength in our times of weakness. The narrow path is curvy and visibility is at a minimum, with great anticipation of what the next bend will reveal. Similarly, we must put our trust in God and have faith that He will see us through to tomorrow as we are so unsure of what it will bring.
There are wonderful and lovely surprises along the path much like the butterflies and the rabbit, but there are also dangers along the way such as the venomous snake coiled on the rocks. Through our most joyous moments and our darkest hours, the Lord is right there with us. He rejoices with us and cries with us.
Then, at the end of the trail, after many bumps and bruises…at last we arrive at our destination. At last we arrive at the relationship with our Heavenly Father that our souls have longed for from our birth. We find eternal residence with Him in heaven with a view more spectacular than we will ever be able to imagine while we live here on earth.
I can't wait to meet Jesus face to face at the top of a mountain one day!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
repentance: 26 miles
Nearly every weekend, I bike the Seminole Wekiva bike trail. From one end to the other and back, the path is twenty-six miles long. Sometimes I'll ride with a friend, but most of the time it's just me out there. Me and God. That means twenty-six miles of communion with my Savior with no distractions. Twenty-six miles of lifting up my family and friends to God, sharing my fears and doubts with Him, and crying out to Him to grant me the desires of my heart.
There's just something about riding that trail that brings me closer to Jesus each week. Just being outside makes me want to worship. As I ride, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and back and the contrasting coolness of the breeze. I am inspired and amazed by the vastness of the clear, blue canopy of sky overhead. I marvel at the richness of the different shades of green in the trees and plants along the way. I see hawks, tortoises, horses, goats, cows, and snakes. Around every bend is another reminder of the God who created the heavens and the earth.
My weeks are jam-packed full of meetings, paperwork, gym workouts, church functions, friends in need, laundry, bills to be paid, driving in traffic, cleaning, grocery shopping, and phones ringing. For a couple hours each week, I get to leave all of that behind and find quiet on my bike. Here only God can speak to me...if I listen. I often find myself riding with tears streaming down my cheeks as I talk to my heavenly Father.
This morning I left church and got into an argument with my sister. I said words I'd quickly regret. In a fury, I grabbed my bike and headed for the trail. As I pedaled hard and fast, I realized that my heart was full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and contempt. I was angry with my sister when I should have been patient and compassionate. I was jealous and bitter that God has not blessed me with a husband or a boyfriend while others who either don't want or don't seem to deserve to be in a relationship have one literally waiting at their fingertips. I was feeling frustrated with friends who have misjudged me and fearing that they might abandon me.
Slowly, as mile after mile faded away, so did the raging sinfulness in my heart. God reminded me of who He is and of how truly faithful He is. He called me His Beloved and told me how greatly He loves me and adores me. The tears came and the anger fled. By mile twenty-six, repentance had found residence in a heart recently vacated by wickedness.
There's just something about riding that trail that brings me closer to Jesus each week. Just being outside makes me want to worship. As I ride, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and back and the contrasting coolness of the breeze. I am inspired and amazed by the vastness of the clear, blue canopy of sky overhead. I marvel at the richness of the different shades of green in the trees and plants along the way. I see hawks, tortoises, horses, goats, cows, and snakes. Around every bend is another reminder of the God who created the heavens and the earth.
My weeks are jam-packed full of meetings, paperwork, gym workouts, church functions, friends in need, laundry, bills to be paid, driving in traffic, cleaning, grocery shopping, and phones ringing. For a couple hours each week, I get to leave all of that behind and find quiet on my bike. Here only God can speak to me...if I listen. I often find myself riding with tears streaming down my cheeks as I talk to my heavenly Father.
This morning I left church and got into an argument with my sister. I said words I'd quickly regret. In a fury, I grabbed my bike and headed for the trail. As I pedaled hard and fast, I realized that my heart was full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and contempt. I was angry with my sister when I should have been patient and compassionate. I was jealous and bitter that God has not blessed me with a husband or a boyfriend while others who either don't want or don't seem to deserve to be in a relationship have one literally waiting at their fingertips. I was feeling frustrated with friends who have misjudged me and fearing that they might abandon me.
Slowly, as mile after mile faded away, so did the raging sinfulness in my heart. God reminded me of who He is and of how truly faithful He is. He called me His Beloved and told me how greatly He loves me and adores me. The tears came and the anger fled. By mile twenty-six, repentance had found residence in a heart recently vacated by wickedness.
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