Where “Yes" May Lead You

Twenty-seven years ago, God asked me to work with teenagers, and I said "yes."

There's a story that leads up to that moment (which I won't share with you today), but what was most surprising was:

1) I was twenty, so barely out of the teens myself,

2) I never had the desire to work with teens. In fact, I was a little afraid of them, having had not-the-best junior high and high school experience,

3) I had my doubts. I had no "training." I had no clear direction.

Nevertheless, I said "yes," without knowing where that "yes" would lead me.

Soon after, I started a leading a small youth group at my church.

After graduating from college, I was hired as a French teacher at a private junior/senior high school.

Then I got married, became a mom, and spent about the next twelve years or so NOT around teens. I was hanging out with other toddler moms, chatting it up about nap schedules and cloth diapers.

And I forgot about my "yes," until I got involved in my teenagers' youth theater company (how this happened is another great story).

What a shock! I never would have imagined that I would be teaching music to teens and directing them in shows. And the best part is that I love it! I love working with teenagers and being a supportive adult in their lives.

But along with the highs come the lows.

Two years ago, a lovely, spunky eleven-year-old came to audition for Moana Jr. She then went on to be in The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music, making many friends along the way. Shortly after her third show, she was diagnosed with brain cancer, and two weeks ago, she lost that battle. This was heart-breaking news for everyone in our company.

Twenty-seven years ago, I wouldn't have pictured myself in a bedroom, strumming a guitar through tears, leading a small group of girls in singing Christmas carols, witnessing the final moments of their friend's time on earth. I couldn't have imagined our time afterwards in the foyer, crying and holding each other for comfort. And I never would have known that in working with this young girl, I would be asked to sing songs with her friends at her memorial service.

Her service is tomorrow. I feel nervous and anxious. I put my two-year-old to bed, then lay next to her for a few extra moments just to pray. I ask God for peace. And I hear this song in my head.

This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine...

And that's all God is asking from me when I say "yes."

The Big "What-Ifs"

In the past two years...

a friend lost a husband,

a friend lost a wife,

a friend lost a child,

a friend lost a parent to cancer,

and a friend was diagnosed with breast cancer.

This is basically my list of the Big "What-Ifs". 

Other what-ifs aren't so scary. My husband could lose his job–no biggie, been there, done that. Our house could burn down; that's just stuff, stuff comes and stuff goes.

But to lose my husband, my child, my parent, or my health... I have to ask myself, "Would I start doubting God's love and faithfulness? Would I turn from him? or doubt his existence? How would I respond?" And these things could happen to me. Four of these five friends are my age. 

Seeing my friends go through these heart-breaking, soul-crushing times have been the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. The only thing harder would be experiencing them myself. 

But–if this is any comfort to people going through a hardship right now–it's because of my friends that I'm no longer afraid of the Big "What-Ifs." 

Because I've seen my friends go through these times, and come out the other side.

Because I've seen how their faith carried them along when they had no strength left.

Because I've seen our church family surround my friends with love and care.

And because I've seen the Savior cover them in His wings and draw them near, even when He felt the most distant and silent.

There are some changes coming in the next few months for my family, and thinking about the unknown always causes a ball of anxiety to collect in the pit of my stomach. 

But I don't have to be afraid. God is the faithful Shepherd, and through green pastures or the Valley of the Shadow of Death, He is always with me.

Doing BIG Things

It's that time of year again.

Time to put another candle on the cake. And time to ask myself, "Did I use my time well this past year?"

Sometimes I get frustrated because there is so much I want to do: missions trips, book ideas, art and music. I've always had a great desire to do something to change the world, or in the words of Sara Groves, "and when the saints go marching in, I want to be one of them." I want to do something BIG.

And what have I done this past year? No books, no songs, and definitely no time with orphans in China, with churches in Africa, or with refugees in Iraq. I live a quiet, peaceful life in suburbia, potty training toddlers and driving teenagers around. I am doing so little compared to those who sacrifice their comfort, their health, their income, or their very lives for the Kingdom.

But this I've learned, and I continue to remind myself: doing what God calls me to do IS big. I want to go to Africa; God says, "Tend my sheep... in California. Impact the world here, where family and children are no long valued. Show them what My love looks like. Teach others, and continue to learn from your elders so you are ready when I guide you to a new adventure." And so I make a sacrifice too, the sacrifice of doing what I want.

Living the life God intended for me is about two things. One, there are times when He calls me to step out in courage and tackle something new. There are times when He calls you too. And two, there are times when He calls me to stay put and focus on the task He had appointed for me. And for some of you, this is where you are at. You wonder if there is more to life than this mundaneness. You wonder if you are making an impact on the world. But remember, it is not the size of the task that matters. One child or eight, writing a book or changing a diaper... we may feel that what we do is insignificant, but He never does. Not if we are doing what He called us to do, and not if what we are doing brings Him glory.

Trading My Sorrows

My eyes filled with tears as I watched the couple slow dance to 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'. Ben, gently swaying with his arms around his wife, closed his eyes for a moment. He was fighting back tears too.

It was in that moment that I saw the pain amidst the joy, the duality that defines so much of Ben's life right now as he cares for Judy, who has Alzheimer's disease. He cherishes every smile, even when Judy isn't fully aware of her surroundings. He cherishes every word, even when Judy doesn't fully understand the conversation. And even as Ben lives with this deep pain, God has filled him with a new joy and peace that cannot be explained. When Ben is not with Judy, he is ministering to families and teaching others about Alzheimer's. 

Later, when I had a chance, I asked Ben how he has learned to manage the daily sadness of slowly losing his wife–if he has a routine or Bible verse that helps him get through the feeling when it overwhelms him.

"I don't have any one thing," Ben replied in his quiet way. "But I have learned to let myself feel the emotions."

The words struck me. I had learned at a young age to stifle certain emotions. Strength, I thought, lay in the ability to push through fear, doubt, despair, and sadness and tough it out. Why cry when I could do something about the situation? Why feel sadness when sadness hurts so much?

But as I recently discovered, sometimes crying is pushing through. Last summer, when I found out that I was expecting Baby #8, fear crept into my heart. But I didn't address the fear; I only told myself, "God wants to teach you something. So find the lesson." Then the baby came, and I found my fear realized as I struggled to manage everything. But I told myself, "I can do this. I just have to try harder." All the while, I became buried deeper and deeper in my dark emotions, sometimes lashing out at my husband or children, sometimes beating myself up for not doing enough. Joy and peace seemed elusive. I felt like everything was going to fall apart if I stopped moving. But it was really me that was falling apart. And all I was really doing was putting duct tape on a bursting pipe. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong… until I allowed myself to cry.* If you've ever watched Pixar's Inside Out, you would understand.

And I discovered that crying goes beyond a psychological or physiological need to expel pain. Whenever I try to avoid feeling loss or pain, I am really trying to hold onto self-reliance. I put on a good front. I tell people "I'm fine." And I keep trying to fix the problem. I try not to feel the pain in the hope that by the time the problem is fixed, I can move on to happier emotions. But in doing so, I also keep a death grip on my pride. Which means my hands are closed, and I am unable to receive help, or anything, from God. 

All this time, I kept asking God to reveal to me what He wanted me to learn, not realizing that I was unable to learn it. That was, until I cried. Until I humbled myself and let go. Until I admitted that I couldn't do it on my own.

I would have found this in the Bible too if I had thought to look. My friend Susan (thank you, Susan!) reminded me that centuries before me, the authors of the Psalms cried out in despair and hopelessness, sounding almost blasphemous as they accused God of abandoning them. David, in Psalm 13, wrote

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;

my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

Notice, though, how David ended his song. 

But I trust in your unfailing love; 

my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me.

David did not just cry out to feel better. He didn't cry out to the sky just to release pent-up emotions. He traded his fears and sadness for peace and joy.

And that is what Ben is learning. And me also. By being honest with myself and admitting my weakness, I find strength, real strength. By allowing myself to fully feel the heartache, I can then be healed. And I've felt joy, peace, and patience return to me, though my situation hasn't changed much. 

Yes, there is a release when you cry, but what's even better is when you can release the emotions and the whole situation to the One who can do something about it.

(*See the post from May 11, When Mamas Need a Good Cry.) 

Giving Up My Passion

One mellow Monday morning, I was enjoying giant cinnamon rolls and good conversation at my friend Susan's house. My sweet tooth satisfied, I moved to the carpet with my baby and caught up with my friend Paul whom I had not seen for several months.

"Are you writing anything right now?" I asked him.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "No, not really. I'm reworking some poems, but I'm not writing anything new."

And because my friend not only writes but performs spoken word as well, I asked the next obvious question.

"Oh, have you been performing then?"

He looked up at the ceiling again. "No…"

I waited to give him time (always a good thing to practice when listening).

"No…," he finally said. "I think God wanted me to stop performing and focus on some other things first. There was some growing I needed to do. When I was performing, I was so passionate, but I was too passionate. I would talk to people and feel like I was right all the time. I was buried in my art, instead of hanging out with people and caring for them. So that's why I'm not writing or performing right now."

It was my turn to look up at the ceiling. "Yes… I know what you mean," I said.

Paul had brought into focus something that I had not been able to put into words. After decades of practicing, performing, and writing music, I have come to a near standstill. I no longer sing in a choir, nor do I accompany one. I don't lead worship on Sundays, or any days. I don't spend hours on end at my piano. Once, I had considered a career in music because it was my passion. Now, it seems that my passion is gone.

But is it really? I miss music, every day. I love singing lullabies to my children and sitting down to play an occasional waltz. I still feel that some of my deepest emotions are best expressed through music. My music is still in me, but God had asked me to give it up. 

Give it up?!

Yes, give it up. Why would God ask me to do that?

Because…

when I was immersed in music, I was content to be alone.
when I was leading worship, I kept myself apart.
when I thought of myself as a musician, I wore the title like a badge on honor.

In my college years, I was taught to put music on a pedestal. In my post-college years, I cared more about the notes on a page than the people in my midst. Then I became Mom and rehearsals were too difficult with a nursing baby. My husband became a pastor and my attention turned elsewhere. My children grew older and my hours at home were filled with homeschooling and chores. Opportunities would pop up to sing with a choir or to be a part of the worship team, but they wouldn't work out. New friends and church members didn't even know that I had musical skills. I started to feel the loss, the envy, and the bitterness.

"Lord, when will it be my turn?" I asked. "What if my skills  grow dull and my talent goes numb?"

Before the bitterness could overtake me, God answered, "Rita, remember who gave you your talent. Besides, you know that in my kingdom, it is not skill or talent that matters most. There will be a time when you have your music again, but now is not the time. Now is the time to take away your pride and solitude. But I can do that without taking away your music, if you give it up on your own accord."

And I knew He was right.

Before, I could have never imagined that I would be willing to give up my passion. After all, it was my passion. It was me. It was my life.

But I see now that my musical passion is a gift from God, and any gift that becomes more important than the Giver is not worth having.

My life does not come from music. My life comes from Christ. And there is where my passions should lie.

As Paul writes in Galatians 6:14, 

But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

The beautiful part of this long growing process is seeing how God has replaced my passion for music with other passions: for writing, for people, for His Word. God did not leave me empty-handed. While He took away my pride and need for perfection, He did not take away my creativity or my talent. Instead, He gave me a joy for newfound creativity in other mediums, a renewed joy in singing for God alone, and a deeper care for people and their stories. He is refining my passions, refocusing and repurposing them for His kingdom.

God will let me know when it is the time to immerse myself in music again. And maybe, I will never again fully immerse myself in music again. It will be a part of me, but not all of me. The words of Fanny Crosby's beautiful song 'Blessed Assurance' comes to my mind. The third verse is especially fitting:

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled in His goodness, lost in His love.

And everyday, whether or not I am on a stage or at a piano, I will be singing the words of the refrain:

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

God's Power Through Our Meekness (by guest writer, Stephanie McDaniels)

Meekness is not a word that is used much nowadays, especially in a culture that equates meekness to being weak. 'Meekness' does not mean 'weakness', though according to the worldview's definition, it means exactly that. The worldview thinks meekness produces men and women who have no backbone and no boldness.  The biblical definition of meekness means 'power under control'.  Jesus says, “for I am meek and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29). Jesus by far was not weak, but rather, courageous and bold.  Jesus walked this earth with meekness, having complete control over His power with obedience to the Father (Philippians 2:1-11). 

The question then becomes...

How do we as Christ followers show meekness in today's world where it is looked down on? What stops you from desiring this quality Jesus possessed?

Jesus, our High Priest, who faithfully obeyed the Father's will and died on the cross for our sins, was the perfect example of a humble servant. The Father's son came not to be served but to serve (Matthew 20:28). This is in contrast to today's “ME” culture of putting our desires first. As Christians, we have to separate ourselves from this natural sinful nature and consciously put others before ourselves.  This could be as simple as allowing someone to go before you in the grocery store line when you were the obvious next customer. Or extending forgiveness and grace to a husband who has said unkind things to you after a stressful day at work.  Another way could be like a mother showing love to her rebellious teenager who just spent the last hour yelling and cursing at her.  When we choose to be meek, God's power and love is made more evident to the people around us.

Showing meekness (power under the Spirit’s control) means knowing and trusting that God can use everyday events to conform us more into the image of Him. Use these opportunities to glorify our Father in heaven.  Always know God is good. He cares about us in every aspect of our lives. As we go through our daily lives, we must put on a humble servant's attitude.  Allow the Holy Spirit to work within you, for it is He who possesses the power that sustains you. 

I recently wrote a note to a dear friend of mine, and in the note I mentioned how I admired her meekness. She e-mailed me after receiving the note, a bit surprised because she never thought of herself as being meek.  What an awesome testament of how work the Holy Spirit works in our daily lives without our even knowing it!

Caring for the Sparrows

My daughter rushed in from the backyard.

"Mom, there's a bird outside and it's hurt!"

I followed her out and saw my other children standing by some old branches. There, in the dirt, was a little sparrow. Its feathers were fluffed out, it was missing an eye, and it was sitting very still, as if it wanted to hide. I quietly walked over to it, and with little trouble, gently picked it up.

We brought the bird inside and prepared a box for it. As far I could tell, there wasn't much wrong with the bird. The eye injury was old and its wings weren't broken. But the little bird couldn't fly. My children were delighted with the prospect of a sparrow for a pet. They named it 'Cocoa' and watched over it as it tucked its head under a wing and took a nap.

But, a few hours later, delight turned to sorrow. Cocoa started to contort its body in distress, and soon, it was lying still in my daughter's hand. The children buried Cocoa outside (and somehow managed to misspell the name). I found my middle daughter crying later, and I let her cry. I told her that we did what we could, but we couldn't fix an internal problem. Nevertheless, the bird was able to rest (and die) in a warm, safe environment, and that it was good to care for living things, even if, in the end, we got nothing in return.

I'm saddened to think that our world doesn't always agree with that last statement. The more I read and hear about current trends, the more I see a shift in how we care for the weak, helpless, and needy. At the top of the list are the elderly, the disabled, the sick, and babies (born and unborn). Next on the list are neighbors, acquaintances, and family members who require more of our time, money, or energy. 

We as humans naturally find it easier to care for people who can care back. It is easier to love those who can give us something in return. But is that how God sees us? Is that how He sees the sparrows? No, God cares for the sparrows (see Luke 12:6) though the sparrows can do nothing for God. And in the same way, God loves us, though we are of no benefit to Him. In fact, God's love for us COST Him something– His own son. And He does shed tears for us when He sees us hurting.

My family didn't make any big sacrifices for the little sparrow (we didn't catch any disease or parasite, we didn't spend any money besides buying a bag of bird seed) but I am still glad for the reminder that we need to care for the 'sparrows', even if it is at great cost to us.

The Things Unseen

...Heal my heart and make it clean

Open up my eyes to the things unseen

Show me how to love like you have loved me…

We were singing these words last Thursday as we prayed and worshipped with our church body. As elders and pastors talked briefly about repentance and revival for the new year, I became aware of what I needed to change in my life.

I had stopped seeking God in my daily routine. Instead, I have been relying on my own strength to 'just get by'. The result of this is that I'm quick to respond to my children with a firm tone of voice. I get exasperated when they don't do things the way I expect them to. I don't take the time to play with them. I start feeling like a cleaning robot more than a person.

So my prayer last Thursday night was that I can love my children in a new way. That even in the home, looking at the same scenery and the same faces day in and day out, when I am cleaning and cleaning and cleaning some more, I can see the unseen things of God, and remember that the unseen things of God are not only in South Africa on a medical mission, at a homeless shelter in the city, or in a sanctuary filled with beautiful music. They are right in front of my eyes, if I humble myself enough to admit my need for God and my desire for Him to change me.

I await to see what God will reveal to me...


(The lyrics are from the song Hosanna by Brooke Fraser)

Rediscovering Faith and Contentment

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. ~Hebrews 11:1

The initial giddiness of having a new baby has been replaced by the weariness of taking care of six children plus one adult. All last week, I was critical, short-tempered, and downright grumpy around my children and husband.

Baby blues? I wondered. But I never had postpartum depression before.

Which didn't mean that I couldn't have it with my sixth child, but it wasn't baby blues at all. It was, at the heart of it, discontentment.

I was just savoring my freedom with a toddler out of diapers. I was writing more, performing more, mentoring more… doing all the things that I've always wanted to do but couldn't because I've been busy with babies for the past ten years or so.

And now, I'm back to the start. Back to nursing, schedules, diaper bags, and nighttime feedings. And there was some envy in me as I listened to my husband talk about his work and the upcoming staff retreat. I watched him as he answered phone calls and text messages from people wanting his biblical advice, and as he left to meet someone at a coffee shop to give encouragement and care. I felt stuck, useless, overlooked.

This morning's sermon was from Hebrews. It was about waiting for God, even when nothing seems to be on the horizon. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph… just to name a few– they had faith. They believed despite the fact that they could not see. God's promise was enough.

And so it must be for me, if I call myself a woman of faith. Though I cannot see why God wants me to devote my talents and energy to raising six children rather than to be a missionary or worship leader, I need to trust that He has a plan for me and my children. Though I'd rather raise my hand and be the first to volunteer, I need to trust that now is not the time; later will be better. Though I think I am ready to take on so much, I need to trust that God is shaping me for something more. There is much that I can grow in.

My husband left for the staff retreat today. I took all six children with me to Costco (a giant warehouse store) to restock our refrigerator. It was my first time doing so, and I was surprised to find myself calmly maneuvering through the crowds, joking with my children, joyfully going through this task with them. 

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart… we sang this morning as our closing song.

It is not always easy to have a vision for the things unseen. But that is contentment– living with the knowledge that God's promises will be fulfilled, and in the meantime, finding delight in the waiting.

This is my story, this is my song...

Knowing that September is going to be a busy month for me because of school and baby (and sleep deprivation), I decided to do something different. Most of the posts this month will actually be re-posts. I've learned some valuable lessons in the three-and-a-half years since I've started this blog, and I'm sure that most of you don't have the time to sit at the computer and read all that I've ever written. So I will find some of my favorite posts (that are not already in the side bar to the left) and share them with you.  Here's another one from 2011…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I realized it might be helpful to some of you to hear the story of how I met Jesus Christ. My pastor had advised me to type it up as an exercise, to prepare myself if ever someone asked me. If you've never written out your story, try it. You will find that yours is remarkable!)

I used to feel like I didn’t have a story, because I had no extraordinary meeting with God. When you’ve been going to church for your whole life, it’s easy to think that you know God. I knew what other people said about Him, but I didn’t really know Him. I gradually became acquainted with God, as my Savior, as my Friend, and as my Lover, slowly over 32 years. This is what my story is about. 

My dad is a pastor, and I attended church as soon as I left the hospital. The church building became my home away from home. On those long days when my dad had meeting after meeting, I would play ‘hide-and-seek’ and ‘sardines’ with my siblings, running up and down the stairs and in and out of closets. I knew all the best hiding places in a church, which are in the curtains, in the pulpit, and under the communion table. Our family would eat lunch and sometimes dinner there, and I practiced piano there. I remember coming up with games that involved crawling under the church pews on my belly. And I hated having to wear dresses on Sundays, because it’s easier to crawl under the pews with pants on! But I did learn other things besides  ‘hide-and-seek’. I also knew every memory verse, every Bible story,  every hymn sung in church. There was no question in Sunday School that I couldn’t answer.

Except one.

When I was ten, a teacher asked me, “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Savior?”

I had always assumed that I was going to heaven, just like my parents, just like everyone who goes to church. I finally learned that I had to choose for myself, that all the things I did on Sundays were not the way to heaven. I realized that I was a sinner, even if I went to church and was basically a ‘good’ person, because no matter how hard I tried, I could never be perfect.  My sin separated me from God, my Creator, and separation from Him equals death. So I was dead, and would remain dead, unless I accept Christ’s gift, that He died on the cross, in my place, taking my penalty. All I had to do was accept that gift, but I had to do it myself.

And so, that day, I accepted Jesus as my Savior. Then I knew that I was guaranteed eternal life in Heaven with Him.

As a new believer, I tried to do everything right. Sunday School teachers told me that I would become a new person, so I prayed about my short temper and asked God to help me with that. The teachers told me to read the Bible everyday, so I tried to do that. God did reveal Himself to me in little ways (my bad temper did get better), but my life seemed very much the same. I was so confused, asking myself “What more am I suppose to do? How can I be a better Christian when I already go to church and do all these things?” There was suppose to be some kind of growth in my relationship, but I didn’t feel it happening. So I strove to be a better person, and as I grew older, I also started teaching Sunday School, playing piano in the service, and leading the youth group. I guess I felt that I must owe God something for what He did for me. I would think back to the day I made my decision to follow Jesus, and try even harder to keep my end of the ‘bargain’. I knew what I needed to do to live a good Christian life, but sometimes I failed, and then I would call myself a bad Christian. At that point, I was so busy in the church that I had a hard time really listening to God. To many people, I looked solid, but there were many holes in my faith. But God never turned from me, even when I entered my college years and started questioning Him as new philosophies tried to fill those holes. He waited for the day when I was ready, ready to hear Him.

That day came when I was twenty. All it took was a sermon series on God’s love (not, “For God so loved the world…so He sent His son…and you must do this to respond”, but “God loves you! He enjoys you! He wants to be with you, and that’s why He sent His son!”) That was the first time I ever ‘heard’ someone say that God enjoys me, and that all He wants is a relationship with me. His entire motivation for sending Jesus to the cross was love! And He wants to give me more good things, beginning with the gift of His Son. I finally understood that ‘eternal life’ was not something that happens when I ‘go to Heaven’, but something that happens NOW, because the cross took away the gap between God and me, restoring the loving relationship between my Maker and me. And I can still do things to serve Him, but my love for Him is the foundation from which the service must flow.

For the first time in my life, my heart felt whole. The holes were gone. My self-image changed. I saw God not as the ‘Judge’, but as the ‘Friend’ and ‘Lover’ who accepted me, scars, filth and all. And it felt good knowing that my life’s goal is not working to get God’s attention. Sometimes I still fall into that trap. I get focused on reading the Bible as another thing on my checklist, instead of a time to be with God, my Friend. I volunteer for things because I know I should, not because I genuinely care. Sometimes I get so busy that I forget that I need to be still and listen. I need to hear him call me ‘Beloved’, which means that I need to

just

be

loved.

This is what I’m working on now; this is the sin that still creeps in, and prevents me from feeling like I’m truly abiding in Christ.

And so, for the first ten year of my life, I knew ‘of’ God. The second ten years, we were acquaintances. The third ten years, we’ve been friends. Now I’m thirty-two, and I want to know Him as my Lover. I want to fall completely in love with him,  and be like an old-married couple with Him. I want to live in the knowledge that God’s Son on the cross was not a one-time act of love, but a symbol of ALL the love He has for me and wants to give me.

(and for those of you who are parents, I want to say, "Don't assume that bringing your child to Sunday School is enough. And don't assume that having a child that serves in the church is enough. Talk to your children about Christ, when you are walking, when you are eating, whenever you are together!") 

The Immeasurableness of God

Do you ever wonder why God would create such a gigantic universe, then put such tiny people in it? Why did He make stars that are hundred of millions of miles in radius, then place them hundred of millions miles away from us, just so we could see a tiny dot of light in the night sky? Seems like a waste.

But as I stood at the base of Yosemite Falls yesterday, looking up at the hundreds of millions of water droplets sky-diving in slow motion, 'wasteful' wasn't the word that came to my mind. Neither was 'insignificant'. I was in the presence of something greater than myself, and it filled me with a sense of awe for the Creator and the beauty of His creation. Maybe that's why He created waterfalls, mountains, oceans, forests, deserts, and a universe of immense proportions-- for our enjoyment, and for us never to forget to be in awe. 

Though mankind's dream is to someday "know" all the mysteries of the universe, I hope we never discover all that the ocean is hiding. That way, I can always gaze upon the endless waves and gain from them an understanding of the depth of God's love and mercy. And though we try to harness the power of falling water, and try to capture it's wonder in images and words, there will never be anything like standing in a waterfall's cloud of mist and listening to the deafening roar of water hitting rock, and thinking about God's strength, power, and beauty. And I know that we will never chart all the stars and planets in the universe, and that is fine with me, because I also know that I will never be able to fully comprehend the sheer size and magnitude of God. I will always and forever be in awe of the God who created this amazing world, the One who is holding it all together. 

We are Blind Beggars

I received news last week of another friend on the road to divorcing her husband. Through  the years, we have gone through the season of graduations, the season of weddings, the season of babies, and now, I feel, we are going through the season of divorces. I cried at the news.

Some will say that I am naive to believe that God can fix broken marriages, no matter what. 

I say, I would be naive to believe that Christians never go through hard times, but there is no naivety in believing that God can carry us, broken marriages and all, through those hard times.

But how do we fix them, then? What is the answer?

I don't know. Because you are talking about people, and people are not a system; they are unpredictable and they make choices. And it was the sum of many, many choices, made through many, many moments, both joyful and difficult, that led to the point where one or two people said, "I want to end this now."

And when one is in the midst of a broken family, or a broken body, or a broken heart, how does one pray? What does one ask for?

I don't know that either. Sometimes the fog is so thick that one can only cry as one stumbles about, blind.

How perfect that today's sermon was about Jesus and the blind beggars.

These blind men lived for most (or all) of their lives with a physical hardship, and the ostracization and ridicule that went along with it. There were no medical answers or easy solutions for fixing their problems, and they knew it. When Jesus came near, the men did not tell him what to do, but simply shouted, "Heal me!"

Oh, how often am I the blind beggar? But how often do I feel the need to have a solution before I pray for help? Asking God to "Heal me!" seems too simple. I want to be able to say, "Lord, give me the patience to listen to my husband, and the words to respond." So sometimes, when I don't know exactly what to ask for, I don't pray. I don't ask. I don't beg.

I must stop doing that. I was reminded today during communion that it is not what I do, but what Jesus did on the cross. In the case of my friends' divorces, when I feel that there is so much to say and yet, I don't know what to say, I must remember that Jesus can heal whether or not I know the solution.

And only He knows what a person needs. One blind man needed spit and warm hands on his eyes (Mark 8), another needed mud (John 9). A third was healed with words alone (Mark 10).

Who else but God can heal like that?!

Whether it is blindness, brokenness, or a lack of words, nothing can stop God's love and power. Whatever hard times you are going through right now, NEVER forget this:

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, 

neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, 

nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us 

from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~ Romans 8: 37-39

Charlie and Sarah, Sarah and Charlie

I've mentioned my friend Sarah in two of my last posts, and recently found out that her husband has started a blog to share their story. His writing is deeply moving, and the grace of God in their lives is more than profound. With Sarah and Charlie's permission, I am publishing the link to Charlie's blog here because their story is definitely worth reading.

For those of you who don't know Sarah and Charlie, you would do a double-take if you saw them together. Charlie is tall-- well over 6 feet-- and Sarah is short-- she doesn't even reach the 5-foot mark on the growth chart. Her height is due to her illness (you can read more about it on Charlie's blog) but it hasn't stopped her from anything. My favorite picture of Sarah is of her with her big guitar belting out worship songs on a Sunday morning. Her voice certainly makes up for her lack in size. Charlie is also a musician (he plays everything!) and a true man of integrity. If something is against God's truth, Charlie lets you know, but not because he is a loud and outspoken man, but because he knows it is the right thing to do. He speaks occasionally on Sundays or Thursdays (our evening service) and almost always is playing drums or bass with the worship team.

When I first found out that Sarah and Charlie were courting, I was not surprised. They were, in every sense of the word, 'perfect' for each other. And I'm sure Charlie knew what he was getting into when he asked Sarah to marry him, though he could have never imagined their first few years of married life being as it had been. Apart from serving at our church, Charlie works long hours at Whole Foods and juggles caring for their two beautiful children. Parenthood, work, and pain (both physical and emotional) have tired them out. They are not as spunky and energetic as they once were, but they will both stop to ask you how you are doing and how they can pray for you.

Enough of my writing. Go read Charlie's blog. You will be blessed.

Obedience

Obedience

by George MacDonald

I said, "Let me walk in the fields;"

He said, "Nay, walk in the town;"

I said, "There are no flowers there;"

He said, "No flowers but a crown."

I said, "But the sky is black,

There is nothing but noise and din;"

But He wept as He sent me back--

"There is more," He said, "there is sin."

I said, "But the air is thick

And fogs are veiling the sun;"

He answered, "Yet souls are sick,

And souls in the dark undone."

I said, "I shall miss the light,

And friends will miss me, they say;"

He answered me, "Choose tonight

If I am to miss you, or they."

I pleaded for time to be given;

He said, "Is it hard to decide?

It will not seem hard in heaven

To have followed the steps of your guide."

I cast one look at the fields,

Then set my face to the town:

He said: "My child, do you yield?

Will you leave the flowers for the crown?"

Then into His hand went mine,

And into my heart came He,

And I walk in a light divine

The path I had feared to see.

Born in Scotland in 1824, MacDonald was a minister who also loved to write fairy tales and poetry "not for children", he wrote once, "but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five." His writings of fiction such as "The Golden Key" and "The Light Princess" have influenced G. K. Chesterton, Mark Twain, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L'Engle, and E. Nesbit. If you love the stories of Narnia and Middle Earth, then you will love how MacDonald's worlds are full of wonder and fantasy, yet remain grounded in God's truth. In one such story, titled "The Princess and the Goblin", the Princess is given a magical silver thread that can guide her to safety. The only problem is, no one, not even the Princess, can see the thread. She has to follow the thread by touch, even though she can't see where it is leading her, or where it will end.

Obedience is like that thread. God sometimes gives us only the information we need for the moment. He sheds light on the first step we must take, but the journey itself is in the dark. I think about my friends in Papua New Guinea, who have committed at least three years of their lives to work with a people group there that has never heard the Gospel. One of their tasks is to learn the language of these natives, and though the natives have been accepting of them into their village, no one knows how they will receive the Gospel. But like the person in the poem, my friends have chosen to leave the fields and flowers. They have said goodbye to their friends and family and the comforts of American suburban life because they believe that His crown and the souls of people are worth more. And though it is difficult for them, like it is difficult for you and me, to obey when the thread they are following is invisible, it is not impossible. It will not seem hard in heaven to have followed the steps of your guide.

Between a Pillow and a Soft Place

I had to take a break from working and sit down and write a little. Our first week back in "school" was tiring, and now we are in the midst of moving furniture-- switching the guest room for the girls' room, rethinking dressers and toys-- basically making a big mess. But I'm liking the end result, and when I think of why we're putting ourselves through this bit of self-torture, I don't regret it.

When we first moved in, we were as happy as clams. (That's an American saying dating back to 1833. I guess clams are happy because they don't need much. And they look like they're smiling all the time. Anyway...) We had two boys sleeping in the green room, two girls sleeping in the pink room, and a wonderful guest room that I had the immense pleasure of decorating. Then our friends moved into the guest room, we had another baby, and I didn't know what to do. But we made it work, and when our friends moved out earlier this year, I was a happy clam again. I put the baby's little crib in the guest room (easy to wheel out when we had guests) and I had my own room again.

Everything was good.

Then we heard of a young woman in our church who needed a room. She had lost her mother to cancer three years ago, and recently had to admit her father into a nursing home. The young woman had barely begun adulthood, and she was already very alone in the world. She needed to finish school, but she needed a home even more. And so she was referred to us.

My initial response was one of hesitation. Where would the baby sleep? Back in my room? Where would the music equipment and instruments go? In my room too?! When we rented this house three years ago, it was perfect for us. But we never thought that we would have another child, or people living with us. Sometimes I feel cramped, and my children are only getting bigger. I like my home the way it is now, and I don't want that to change, not when I've barely had time to enjoy it.

But then I remember that this home is not my own, not really. With some clever maneuvering, we can use this God-given space to the best of our ability.

And that is why today we are moving the girls' bunkbed into the larger room, making the old guest room into a bedroom for all three girls. The queen-size guest bed is in the pink room, ready for our friend to move in when she is ready. My bedroom is still crazy-looking, and pictures and paintings will need to find new homes on the wall, but all in all, everything looks good.

It will take time to settle in again, and when our friend comes to join our family, she will change the dynamics of our home too. But I know we will be blessed by her. I know that God wants to grow her, and grow me too. Rather than let me settle into my comfy spot and become moss-covered, He keeps me moving, ever onward, ever upward.

Wife As God Intended

No, I did not come up with this title. My husband came over to me one day while I was typing away, and said, "Wife...", saw the computer screen, "... as God intended..." and I immediately grabbed onto the phrase.

And now is the perfect time to use it, because tomorrow, my husband and I celebrate 11 years of marriage! And I must say, it has been 11 years of the unexpected (a lay-off, two career changes, five children, and five moves) and the expected (his steadfastness and strength, his perseverance in his pursuit of God, and our ever-growing love, just to name a few).

But even with 11 years under our belt, it is good to take a refresher course in Marriage 101. With God's perfect timing, we started counseling an engaged couple two months ago. It has been a dream of ours to do premarital counseling ever since our own experience with Ben and Judy, and here we are, counseling for the first time! And it has been such a blessing to get to know this young couple, to openly discuss with them our own difficulties, joys, and lessons learned, and to grow in our own bond as we work together for a single goal.

The book we are using for the counseling is a book decided upon by our church, Preparing for Marriage, edited by Dennis Rainey and written by David Boehi, Brent Nelson, Jeff Schulte and Lloyd Shadrach. It is a  book based in scripture (as opposed to psychology or statistics), and designed not only for the engaged couple, but for anyone thinking about marriage in the near future. Early chapters cover topics such as personal history, God's design for marriage, and a decision-making guide. Later chapters are for those who have decided that, yes, God is calling us to be married, and covers communication, roles and responsibilities, money, and intimacy. There are also special sections for those thinking about marrying for a second time. What I like about this book is that it is a workbook more than a textbook, full of questions designed to stimulate conversation between the engaged persons and between the couple and the counselor(s). My favorite chapter so far is Chapter 6, "Roles and Responsibilites", and here is the reason why.

In Genesis 2:18, God says, "It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him." Many people nowadays would read that and translate 'helper' as 'sidekick', or 'assistant', basically 'one who is inferior'. They would argue that this goes hand in hand with Ephesians 5:22, "Wives be subject to your own husbands..." and proves the Bible to be a book written by male-chauvinists.

But wait, looks at this! The word 'helper' is the same term used in Psalm 54:4 ("...God is my helper...") and John 14:26 ("...the helper, the Holy Spirit...") and Hebrews 13:6 ("... the Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid...") Wives are to be helpers as God is our helper-- what higher calling can there be? The role of a wife is to lift up her husband and sustain him. She is strong and virtuous, even when called to yield to her husband at times. And if a wife knows that her husband is seeking God's will for the family, and loving her as he loves himself, she can yield (or submit) to him with joy and trust. It would be easy to allow him to make the ultimate decision in even the most important aspects of life.

Which still does not mean that the husband is above the wife! God designed a very unique role for wives, which she can truly fulfill only if her husband fulfills his, the role of a servant-leader. If the husband is overbearing, the wife would become nothing but a footstool. If the husband is too passive, the wife would need to become the leader. In either case, the husband and wife are no longer working side-by-side. They have lost their equal standing with each other, and the marriage is off-balance.

Marriage is much more than 'being in love'. It is mutual respect, mutual care, and mutual sacrifice. For a wife, this means loving her husband as an individual and never talking negatively about him in front of others. It is encouraging her husband to lead by giving him the opportunity to do so, asking his opinions, and trusting his judgment. By being the wife God intended her to be, she helps her husband become the husband God intended him to be.