Every hard thing is for us to know Him.

That’s what Elijah said this morning. More and more I think he’s right – not just because he said it but because the Spirit has been whispering it to me over the past few days.

“Why does God allow bad things to happen?” is the question that everyone has, at some point in their lives, asked. Trying to answer it requires mental and emotional gymnastics, a few concessions here and there, and more often than not, a half-hearted shrug and mumbled, “I don’t know…”

I’m learning though that it’s the wrong question to ask. Especially if your opinion (like mine) of the character of God isn’t solid to begin with. All my life I’ve struggled with the question of the goodness of God, and with good reason. I mean, I had a father who regularly abused my siblings and me. So I would understandably get a free pass for wholeheartedly believing Father God’s character to be good and true, right?

Wrong.

See, what I’m learning is that when I signed on for this whole “life in Christ” bit, regardless of whether I knew it at the time or not, what I really signed on for was a process of being “conformed to His image.” Not Him being conformed to mine. I know, insert shocked gasp here, right? But it’s true. So when my ideas of who God should be come up short I don’t get to throw a temper tantrum and ask, “Why is God allowing bad things to happen to me? I thought He was good!” Rather, I put on my big girl panties and submit to a little thing called…discipleship.

You want to hear a little secret? I’ve had my way of thinking inside out for so long that it’s tempting to just leave it like it is: cruise through life, hit a roadblock, get mad and question God, wait for relief, get on speaking terms with God again, and move forward.

Until the next roadblock.

Truthfully, it’s worked for me this far. Now, there’s probably some collateral damage – not just to me and my faith development but also to those closest to me. When I have a meltdown and my husband and friends have to do damage control because of my refusal to grow up in my understanding of God, I’d imagine I’m diverting a lot of Kingdom resources. And, spiritual immaturity just ain’t pretty.

So while it’s been my modus operandi up ‘til now, I hear my friend Dave whispering his ever-present counseling question, “How’s that workin’ for you, sis? I mean, really..?”

Not so good.

So…what next? (Besides confession, of course…)

Submitting my understanding of Him for something new, something different. Something more in line with Who the Word says He is rather than who I’ve made Him out to be. Asking different questions – rather than, “Why does God allow bad things…?” as though it were a causative situation, trying, “Where is God in the midst of bad things..?”

It’s amazing if you think about it – the first question puts you in a defensive posture, you’re ready for combat, ready to defend yourself against the God of the Universe. Every muscle in my body gets tense and I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I look at God from the side and through narrowed eyes. I’m firmly in the realm of suspicion and distrust.

But the second question… The second question leads to me exhaling. I’m not defensive and ready to bolt. Rather, I settle into my place and look upward – waiting, hoping…and dare I say, trusting? Faithing. Believing.

I could use being re-formed. I’ve been broken for a long time and I’d like to be different. I’d like to have a relationship with God that isn’t dependent on good times and everything going in a way that makes sense to me. I’d like to call Him my friend, and I’d love it if He called me His as He did with Moses. I’ve preferred a safe God because my understanding of His character hasn’t been accurate and truthfully, I could get excited over a God Who is intimate and personal and a little…wild.

I was just reminded of the dialogue between Lucy and Mr. Beaver in “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe:”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king I tell you.”

The King indeed.

You will again call God good.

The past year has been a difficult one. We’ve left behind jobs, friends, spiritual community without a deep sense of clarity from God as to “why?” Although it’s a fun spiritual exercise to fancy ourselves modern-day Abrahams, after the initial excitement wears off, I’ve struggled with wondering if this God we’re following is as trustworthy as I thought Him to be.

I came across a blog posting today from a woman who recently lost her son in a tragic accident. It was titled “Is God Good?” – a question I’ve lately been tossing around in my head. Intellectually, I know Him to be good, but so many things in this season of life haven’t worked out as I’d like, leaving me with a ton of disappointment and nothing to hang it on, except a vague feeling that God has somehow left me holding the short end of the stick. When I came across this woman’s words, I wept. Partly because they gave me much-needed perspective on the scope of my struggles; but more so because they infused my heart with a reality much deeper than the one in which I’ve been wallowing. She writes:

“…Even in tragedy, God is amazing. He is faithful. He is good. Because His character is not dependent on my circumstances. He has done many wonderful things in my life, but His character is not revealed through my wealth nor through my safety nor through my comfort.

His character is revealed through the cross.

And as I think of my son crushed, his skull broken, his form lifeless, I can think of only one thing.

Our Father did it willingly. For me. For you. For the world He loved so much He gave His only begotten son.”

And while all the pain, and wondering, and disappointment of this time is not erased, it is eased. And that’s something.

Peonies in bloom…

I heart nature

Living Simply

Not too long ago I came across the following statement: “Knowing what you are made to do, and doing it, is the essence of living simply.”

I’ve been thinking about these words a lot and I agree wholeheartedly. Last year Elijah and I spent some time working through our family mission statement giving words to what we truly value and what we want to be about. While we came up with several things we’re shooting for in our life together the central theme that tends to guide us is that of simplicity. We used it as a guideline for establishing what we spend money on, how we invest our time, even how we use our home.

And while we’ve done a pretty good job articulating our values as a family, I know I have some personal things that are for me to do. Heart things. Things that will remain undone if I don’t do them. The last week or so I’ve felt as though something is “off” – I’ve not been as centered and focused as I’d like to be and it doesn’t take an enormous amount of agonizing, soul-searching to know why. It’s because I know there are just a few things that I am to be about in my life and I’m not doing them. Some, yes. But not all  – and I need to be about all of them.

So…today and this next week are about pulling back to center and re-focusing on what matters. Giddy up.

Around town.

“I brake for saucy wenches.”

That’s the bumper sticker on a car Elijah’s seen around town a couple times.

Ironically, it’s always being driven by an elderly woman. Perhaps a saucy wench herself back in the day..?

I think I’m gonna like it here.

Poured out.

I am presently living through what seems like one of the more difficult seasons of life. And that feels especially significant for two reasons that quickly come to mind:

1. Our family just lived through a difficult season where we lost several ministry partners to death, and

2. After the last one, we thought this one would be a season of rest and healing.

It’s not turning out the way I thought.

This afternoon I found myself telling the Lord, “If what you’re wanting is to have us completely broken, I think we’re pretty much there.”

This time has been characterized by more questions than answers, heartache, uncertainty (oh, have I mentioned that already?), grief, destruction of pride and humiliation.

When I think of humility I never really think of what it takes for that characteristic to be formed in my flesh. I usually just admire it on people from a distance never thinking what it must of taken to get there. And though I’m drawn to humility, I’ll admit I tend to be drawn more to people with a “git ‘er done” personality type – and while I know the two traits aren’t mutually exclusive, I can’t quickly recall a time I’ve seen the two partner up.

And so here I am feeling like Exhibit A in God’s Great Hall of Brokenness and Disillusionment. I’m not ready yet to be moved to the Hallowed Hall of Humility where I assume people like Corrie ten Boom and the like hang out but every so often I can catch a glimpse of it down the corridor.

I’m not ready because I’ve still got a bit of fight left in me. A bit of the old piss and moan. I’m still fighting what God is doing in and through me. If His end-game is my life being broken bread and poured out wine (and it is) then I’ve not yet said, “As you wish” and thrown myself down the hill.

But man, I hope I’m getting closer because all of us who are in Christ know that ultimately resistance is futile. If we’ve really signed on for this Christ-life bit, “Him in us, the hope of glory,” then He’s gonna win out or else we’re going to take ourselves out of the game.

Oswald Chambers, the great spiritual butt-whooper, once said: “God can never make us wine if we object to the fingers He uses to crush us with. If God would only use His own fingers, and make me broken bread and poured-out wine in a special way! But when He uses someone whom we dislike, or some set of circumstances to which we said we would never submit, and makes those the crushers, we object. We must never choose the scene of our own martyrdom. If ever we are going to be made into wine, we will have to be crushed; you cannot drink grapes. Grapes become wine only when they have been squeezed.”

Cheers.

Birth plan.

Three years ago my husband and I found ourselves sitting in a waiting room on the labor and delivery floor of our hospital. It was the fin al days of my pregnancy and we’d been sent there by our doctor who’d noticed low amniotic fluid levels and was now recommending an induction. Our hospital bags were piled around our feet and our conversation was in hushed tones. Noticing our tense faces a woman sitting across from us asked, “Are you here to be induced?” We replied that we were and went on to explain that this course was not the way we had planned for things to unfold. We’d wanted a natural, drug-free delivery. “Let’s just allow nature to do her thing,” we’d said.

The woman nodded understandingly and then asked, “May I give you some advice?” Nine months of pregnancy had already made us more than accustomed to advice, some helpful, some not so much. We nodded and she moved to the front of her chair, leaning in and gazing at us thoughtfully for a moment before beginning: “I’m a midwife and I’ve seen a lot of women give birth over the years. The ones that come to the hospital with a laid back attitude tend to do better than the ones who have a point-by-point birth plan. In fact, most nurses will tell you that when a woman comes into labor and delivery with a birthing plan they’re adamant about following, they go ahead and start preparing the paperwork for a cesarean. Too much of a plan makes their bodies tense up and makes a natural delivery that much harder.”

Hmmm….

My husband and I had thought there was tremendous value in poring over the possibilities and being prepared. And there is. Up to a point.

It’s sort of like life in that way. There’s an amazing amount one can do to be prepared for life but you can’t control the innumerable what ifs and whodathunks.

My husband and I did a pretty good job preparing for life. We both went to college and graduate school. We met, married and had kids in our thirties. We saved for retirement and the unknown. And still sometimes life has moments that feel excruciatingly inexplicable. We’re in one right now and have been for a few months. All our planning feels like it’s not serving us as well as we’d hoped – not completely – but in some ways. And I’m feeling it in my flesh – my shoulders seem to hang out around my ears and I have to consciously work to lower them to their proper place. The smallest snag in my day can send me careening toward despair and sadness. When I nurse my son I worry about not having enough milk and oddly my body starts to withhold milk….

I’m realizing that there’s a grace needed to cover the gap between planning and this present reality. I know in my spirit that the choices we made that have led us here were good and right. They were born of faith and continue to be buoyed by it. And yet faith isn’t magic. It doesn’t make everything fall into place just the way I want. It’s not a reward system where you get to cash in your faith chips for a new house and a bigger paycheck.

Bottom line is this – I thought it was good to be well-prepared and have a plan. But when something is being birthed in you and through you, there’s just a limited amount that you can do. There are some things you can participate in – focusing and not forgetting to breathe come to mind. But other things like the timing and pain level aren’t in your sphere of control.

So for right now, in this moment, I’m just gonna focus on breathing. In…and out…in…and out…

From Romans 8 in The Message:

“All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”

Amen.

Seek first…

This morning I found myself running around in a panic trying to get the kids dressed and all of us out the door. It’s a bit shameful to say that the panic was self-induced, but it was. I’d made loose plans with my mom: “I’ll be over at your place sometime after 10ish.”

Clever, ‘eh? I like to call that little move double-padding: the “sometime after 10″ phrase guarantees that there’s no way I can be late and the “ish” means that if I do show up by at least 11 I look really good. Feel free to try it for yourself.

Regardless, I was in a panic because in my mind I’d created a bit of an expectation, and my reality wasn’t matching up. What’s interesting is how tempting it was to get cranky with everyone around me: Olivia because she wasn’t feelin’ the oh-so-cute boots I bought for her at Target and was trying my darndest to (lovingly) shove her into, Isaiah because he was fussing, and Elijah because…his hair is long (dangit, I had to think of something).

But really, there wasn’t a lot for me to be worked up about. I’d just somehow worked myself into a tizzy and between trying to get to my mom’s and my growing to-do list, I was panicking and cranky. But once we were loaded into the car and were on our way (exhale…) I heard a whisper, “Seek first…”

“What’s that?” I thought distractedly.

“Seek first…” came the answer again. This time a bit less of a whisper.

“Oh yes…seek first His kingdom…and all these things will be added…” A Scripture I’ve heard, and read, and said countless times and yet in moments of complete honesty, I’d really rather seek my own kingdom. Or queendom. Whatever.

But today I’m choosing His kingdom. Even in light of a long list of things that need to be done. And I’m going to trust and faith that “all these things will be added.”

We just returned from Tennessee yesterday and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and praying. Well really, the praying started yesterday morning and it was mainly at Elijah’s initiative. Have you ever gone for a while without truly praying, without truly believing and then all of the sudden you find yourself questioning, “Does this prayer/belief thing really work?” you don’t mean it in your heart of hearts but in the time since you’ve been praying and believing, you’ve just been making it on your own. Shouldering the entirety of the burden, becoming far too acquainted with worry and anxiety and just generally slipping toward faithlessness. It’s a scary place to be. And once you find yourself there, even though you know what you’ve gotta do to “get back” the lack of faith you’ve been experiencing has changed your perspective just ever so slightly and it seems oh-so-daunting to find your way home.

That has been me for the past weeks and months. Until around 6:35 am yesterday morning. Eastern time.

I could go into a lot of reasons why it happened – tough home life (not between my husband and me but just a lot of change in who stays at, home with our child and a new home in a new neighborhood to boot), tough church life (this one would be hard enough on its own but given the fact that we’re both employed by the church…dang), it’s really not been my favorite season in life. Not by a long shot.

Now to be fair, there have been a lot of amazing things about it too. So many amazing things – friendships, time away to be renewed, Saturday mornings at the farmer’s markets, regular date nights – a whole bushel of grace. But somehow, the hard stuff had overshadowed the rest.

Isn’t that just like life? Mercy.

So yesterday morning, after having been in Tennessee for a week, away from my troubles and the stresses of life here, of course I had a bit of a meltdown as we were trying to leave for the airport. I knew I needed to pray but my prayers sounded feeble and scrawny to my own ears. And so Lij and I sat down on my sister’s cozy brown couch, wrapped ourselves in a thick, soft blanket and he jump started the process for me. When it comes to simple faith and belief, my husband is actually my hero. I struggle with so much that isn’t helpful and I feel as though his simplicity in faith matters is a continual reminder that the way of faith doesn’t have to be complicated. Remember the old Sunday School song, “Read your Bible pray every day, pray every day, pray every day. Read your Bible pray everyday and you’ll grow, grow, grow.” That. That right there? That’s the epitome of Elijah.

So yesterday morning, we prayed. And as we did the scales started falling off. I can’t tell you exactly how it happened (that’s the mystery of prayer) but things started coming into alignment. My twin companions of anxiety and worry seemed to fade into the background and weren’t the first to greet me and my thoughts. I recognize that they’re still there – I’ve allowed them to become comfortable in boldly approaching me and escorting me into scary places and until I provide them some roadblocks they’ll likely still beat a path straight to my front door. The process isn’t over but it’s definitely begun.

I keep wondering how I found my way into this predicament and as I’ve been writing this morning the answer became suddenly, strikingly clear. It sound so simple and yet still it’s true – my focus was far more on the situations that surround me than it is on Christ. That’s it. The pure, distilled truth. All it took was for me to (and legitimately so) buy into the injustice, the unfairness, the frustration and POOF! The moment my eyes drifted from God, the Author and Perfector of my faith, to the mass of circumstances surrounding me, I’d already lost the battle.

And so how does all this affect today? I’m starting out differently – I’m reading the Bible and praying. I’m trusting. I’m calling in reinforcements for prayer and accountability. I’m doin’ the thing. By God, I’m doin’ it.

“It is along this line that we see the rugged impatience of the Holy Ghost against unbelief. All our fears are wicked, and we fear because we will not nourish ourselves in our faith. How can anyone who is identified with Jesus Christ suffer from doubt or fear! It ought to be an absolute paean of perfectly, irrepressible, triumphant belief.” – Oswald Chambers

Numbers 31:22 “Only the gold, the tin, and the lead, everything that can endure the fire, you shall put through the fire, and it shall be clean.”