Friday, September 6, 2019
I have been on an "oldies" kick. For many people that means listening to the pop hits of the 80's and 90's. For me that means Rich Mullins, vintage Steven Curtis Chapman, Michael W. Smith. Old school Newsboys, Audio Adrenaline, Jars of Clay. My teen years soundtrack was these pioneers of Christian "contemporary" music. They shaped my understanding of myself and my world, and in many ways, they helped me understand what it meant to follow Christ.
I still listen to Christian music, it isn't the same, for better or worse. I miss many of my old favorites that aren't around anymore (The Waiting, Geoff Moore and the Distance, and more that I am too old to remember the names of!) but I especially miss DC Talk. I know that pieces of the band are still making music, and I am so thankful for that (Toby Mac still makes me turn up the radio!) but during my sophomore and junior years of high school you could find "Supernatural" and "Jesus Freak" on endless repeat.
So today, feeling nostalgic, I requested that Alexa play DC Talk for me. She busted out "Colored People" and "What If I Stumble" and then it started playing: the one that everyone talked about: "Jesus Freak". I smiled as the song started, it brings back so many good memories for me. But then I started *listening*:
A thought suddenly pierced me: what if they *don't* label me a Jesus Freak? What if all my long-hidden desires to be "normal" have finally been realized? Who in my life would say that Jesus has made me a stranger in a strange land? What if they look at me and see themselves?
"Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day He visits us." 1 Peter 2:12 NIV
What if I'm not a freak?
What if I'm blending in?
What if I'm unnoticeable?
What if I'm normal?
I've struggled with fitting in my whole life. I deeply desired to be accepted. To be a part of the group. To fit in. I was hideously awkward as a teenager. I didn't realize that in my decades-long fight to ditch those labels from my identity, I have accidentally shelved something that shouldn't have just been a descriptor of my character, it should, He should, be my identity.
"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of the darkness into His wonderful light." 1 Peter 2:9 NIV
What if I'm not any different?
"If you belonged to the world it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you." 1 John 15:19 NIV '84
What if they don't hate me?
It's not good, man. It's not good.
But it isn't too late.
"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's might hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." 1 Peter 5:6-7 NIV '84
We break those verses up so often, but read them together. I don't have to be anxious about my position, I can cast those cares on Him. I don't have to be concerned about fitting in, or finding my place. I don't have to worry about standing out, either. It isn't about me. It's about Him. I don't have to keep my eye on the clock, or on my social ranking. He has it all planned out, I just need to submit.
And that's what will really make me a freak in today's world. Surrender control? Give up my "rights"? Stop trying to micromanage every teeny detail and forecast every possibility?! Get real! How much will I stand out if I am fully submitting to God? How crazy will I look if I quit looking out for number one and bow before the Holy One? I think that would be pretty darn freaky.
"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded....Humble yourselves before the Lord and He will lift you up." James 4:8 and 10 NIV '84
That all will look awfully strange. I am quite certain that it will stand in opposition to anything the world requires for me to fit in. And I'll be honest: it isn't all it's cracked up to be, this being "normal". I am ready to be changed, to be different. I'm ready to be a freak-because I really can only have time to care about what He thinks of me.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
My Dearest Daughter,
I wanted to apologize to you for something: we tease you about your feet sometimes, and it isn't very nice. You, unfortunately, have your Dad's feet. We jokingly refer to them as "Hobbit feet" (although, just to clarify, yours are not hairy!). You often lament that you wear a bigger size shoe than I do, evidenced by that span of less than three months you jumped two sizes. Don't feel bad, I am definitely out of the running to be America's Next Top Foot Model, too.
But I wanted to tell you something today: you have beautiful feet. (And not just because we got pedicures earlier this week.) And you are smart enough to know that I am not talking about the things that are at the end of your legs. You have the kind of feet that Isaiah was talking about:
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!". Isaiah 52:7
I learned that verse in VBS before you were even a thought to me. The summer of my junior year in high school, a single year spent at my grandmother's, feeling adrift because I knew that my time there was fleeting. Frustrated, because I had big hopes and dreams but no way to give them...feet. Knowing so strongly that I was called, but only hearing a Voice, with no words.
It would be many years before there was you. You and your beautiful, beautiful feet. You and your going feet. Finally, my dreams are starting to become clearer: it was you. You are my calling, to raise you up in the knowledge of the goodness of God. And while you may not have my feet, you do have your grandmother's: feet that love to take the Word to everyone. And your great-grandmother's: feet that long to share the greatest Gift to the ends of the earth. And maybe, just maybe you do have a little of me, after all. Because in knowing about those beautiful feet from Isaiah, all those years ago, I've spent all your lifetime praying to God to help me prepare your feet. Feet that are literally taking the Gospel in answer to this:
"[F]or everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. How, then, can they call on the One they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the One of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"" Romans 10:13-15
You are the beautiful feet of my dreams. You are living boldly-and I, along with the Body of Christ, am sending you and your precious feet. It is the hardest thing I have ever been asked to do, this sending. But, I know this to be true: the Good News that you and your feet are carrying is far too wonderful for me to keep here at home, no matter how much I want to. And I hope that in this, one day, my feet will be as beautiful as yours. I love you.
Monday, June 10, 2019
(This is a five minute blog post.)
We are hosting a home group Bible study at our house. If you have the gift of hospitality the following will probably not apply to you, however, I don't. Therefore, when someone new is coming to my house it is like the scales fall from my eyes and all I can see is every.little.wrong.thing. In stereo surround. Full color. Imax version.
It's not fun. As I surveyed my un-mown yard this evening I reflected: I am far from perfect. You don't even have to look hard to see all the areas I can improve in, not the least is my less-than-persnickety housekeeping style. And my home is not the only area that could use a helping hand in the tasks to be accomplished department.
Because just like with my home, my character could use some upgrades, too. I need some routine maintenance, but some things just need a straight up trip to the dump and total renovation. Just like my kitchen floor, there are more things that need replacing than I should keep.
And I often think about how the world tells us that just makes us "real". Don't worry about those "imperfections"-they're part of your "charm"! You're not rude, you're "outspoken". You're not angry, you're "passionate." That we should tout our flaws like badges of honor. "You're doing the best you can." "Messy hair, don't care." "You do you." The art of bragging about our shortcomings, and failings, curating an attitude of disdain for anyone striving to do better. To be better is viewed as a haughty "fakeness".
But what does the Bible say?
"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:14 NIV
"[Jesus said] Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Matthew 5:48 NIV 1984
Yikes. Later in the same chapter of Philippians, Paul talks about unbelievers whose "glory is in their shame." What does it say when I am delighting in being a "hot mess momma"? Perhaps that my priorities are a little askew. It is equally as wrong to strive for worldly "perfection", but I should focus on daily "pressing on" to become more Christ-like. I should lean into the work that must be done in my heart and mind, I can never rest in anything less than looking and acting as my Savior would. Yes, He has given, and will continue to give, grace upon grace to us, but I can't use that as an excuse to revel in my shortcomings. Rather than seeing the places my home doesn't meet those HGTV standards, I should turn that laser focus to my heart. The best part about that type of self-improvement though? I'm never doing the work on my own.
"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
"And my God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus."
"[B]eing confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."
Philippians 3:14, 4:19, 1:6 NIV 1984
And that's just what Paul has to say about it!
"Father, help me to trust that you will continue to give me what I need to look more like You, including the ability to resist the temptation to laud my laziness and applaud ambivalence and mediocrity. Thank you for promising me that You will carry on the good work Christ started in my heart."
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
(This is a five minute blog post.)
...the more they stay the same. Except it doesn't really seem like that at all does it? Lately, more than ever, it seems like I finally get something "figured out". And then that ugly "c" word rears its head. And we are all up in the air again.
I. Don't. Like. Change. I am creature of habit, a lover of routine. I like the familiarity of continuity. But here is the cruddy, but oh-so-essential, lesson spring teaches us: growth absolutely requires change. A seed that stays a seed is useless. We actually call it dead. Because that is what it is. To live is to change.
And so while in the immature part of my heart I don't like it, I recognize its absolutely vitality to the human condition. If I am growing, I am changing. If I am changing, I am living. Seasons come and go, no two ever alike. Days go by, each containing similar elements but always different ones, too. Some good, some bad, some uncomfortable, some exciting, all part of the process.
This time of year is hard, perhaps because so many endings are so boldly proclaimed: graduations are a big 'ol celebration of over-ness. You're done, moving on. Changing, hopefully for the better, but you are literally not allowed to stay where you were. Kids are shedding grades like butterflies come out of their chrysalises, not fully fledged but ready for the next thing. Weddings, too, signal a big fat end: say goodbye to singleness, for better or worse. Programs are ending all over the place, shelved for the summer, and next year won't be quite the same.
I think these may seem like New Year's musings, but truly, if January is for beginnings, this time of year is for endings. But that's okay, because I only need one thing in my life to stay the same.
"Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever." Hebrews 13:8
And I have to recognize: if I want to be more like Him, many more things will have to change then stay the same. So here is to bittersweet endings. And to growth, even with the change it brings.
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
I'm a reader. Not just books, but anything with words. My eyes are drawn to wherever there are letters, constantly trying to find meaning from the signs and shapes around me. Today, I sat at the park, the one right on the grounds of the middle school, and I pored over the graffiti-covered table, picking out all the "she loves him" messages and strange initial additions when I saw your message. All it said, in the handwriting of a child was, "Broken Girl."
I am fairly certain you are a middle-schooler. Frankly, that's a terrible age. I know it isn't comforting to hear that, but I was once a middle school girl, and I have one of my own now. She is bright and beautiful, just as I am sure you are. She is often a giant puddle of tears, too, a mess of emotions she isn't mature enough to manage, floundering in a saltwater sea she created. The hope in this is that it won't last forever. I don't know how old you were when you scratched this into the table, and whether it was in a fit of high drama, or just a small, sad sigh from a soul too old for its body.
Regardless of the reasoning, (other than the fact, that as a mother, and a law-abiding citizen, I do not encourage anyone to carve into public property) I wanted you to know that I saw your cry. And I have some things I want to say to you:
At one point or the other, sometimes at so many points that they all seem to connect together in an endless underline of pain, we are all broken. We aren't breaking, or bending, we are past tense, beyond repair. Sometimes the reasons are obvious: a boy, a bad grade, parents who don't understand. Sometimes they aren't even clear to us: just a black hovering mass of thwarted desires, misunderstood feelings and tangled emotions. Sometimes the things that break us are things that will soon be forgotten, but some inflict scars that last a lifetime: abuse, abject poverty, destroyed families, death. But we are all broken: in your case, some of us sooner than later.
And while I am sure you know that misery loves company, it is never quite satisfying in this case to know that you are not alone. "So what?!" you probably say in the ages-old refrain of teenagers everywhere. Who cares that we are all broken? It isn't the same. No one could understand my unique brand of suffering. No one has ever walked in my shoes.
And that would be the next thing I would say to you. You may be broken, but you don't have to stay that way. There is Someone who understands your pain, sees how it is as much a part of you as your DNA. How your very identity has become the things that have carved themselves into your heart, damaging you beyond even being able to hope for repair. He's the one who created that DNA-and He has engraved you someplace much more lasting than an ugly green picnic table.
"I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands..." Isaiah 49:15b-16a NIV
His name is Jesus and He is in the business of restoring broken things, actually, restoring broken people. And He is so good at it He can bring the dead back to life.
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Psalm 147:3 NIV
"[B]ut it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel." 2 Timothy 1:10 NIV
He can never forget you-He has a constant reminder of His love for you, right on His hands, where He bears the wounds that He received so that we could be healed.
""He himself bore our sins" in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness: "by His wounds you have been healed"." 1 Peter 2"24
What breaks us more than sin and shame? Our sin, the wrong things that we have done-you know what they are. They are the things that you want to shove down into the deepest, darkest places inside of you, but instead they throw you in that hole. And you remain there, suffocating under the guilt, trapped by burning shame. Perhaps some shame you didn't bring on yourself, perhaps some you did. But does it matter? All that is down in that hole is your grave.
And these might seem like things that a middle-schooler can't handle. But you have already handled more than you should. Isn't that part of what broke you in the first place? No one needs to tell you that life is cruel-you learned it before you could articulate what that even meant. You are grown up enough to recognize that things are wrong. But you will never be mature enough to make them right. Thankfully, you don't have to-Jesus came and did that for you.You may think your name is "Broken" but with Jesus it can be changed to "Child of God".
"See what great love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1a NIV
I got your wood carved message on a peeling picnic table bottle, cast into the waves of a school yard, in the center of a city that all seems bent on ignoring you, burying you and your cry for help under endless waves of life. I saw your plea, and I am sending back my own message: typed and tossed into the frail bottle of a tiny blog, hurled into the unmeasurable depths of the internet. And you may never see it. But I can promise you this: no matter how broken you are, pieces scattered from here to the sun, He sees you and He is calling you by your true name.
"Now this is what the Lord says-the One who created you....Do not fear, for I have redeemed you: I have called you by your name: YOU ARE MINE." Isaiah 43:1 (paraphrase, emphasis mine)
He sees. He knows. He heals. He repairs. He loves. And your true name is His.
Praying for you still-