Exposed

*I wrote this back in January, but I wanted to share it again so as to explain an upcoming post!*

Alone time.  It’s not something that I have on a regular basis.  And this past fall was quite a “knock the wind outa your sails” season for me on several fronts.  So when we had the opportunity to visit sweet friends in North Carolina over the holidays, I found myself with that rare moment to take a long and fairly ugly trail run through the woods.  Ugly, because trail running is not my thing; I can’t ever seem to find my “groove” between avoiding tree roots and surrendering to the inability to set a pace of any sort.  Ugly, because somewhere in mile two, I had a run-in with a wicked briar patch.  Ugly, because me running uphill in the woods is about as graceful as a gorilla’s attempt at the same.  

So, after a few miles of this awkwardness in exercise form (I still loved it, though... even with bleeding shins), I took a breather in a nearly hidden cemetery behind this little country church.  I walked around it for a bit, checking out the family names and daydreaming about what their lives had been like, who they were and what was said of them on the day they’d been buried there in that little plot of ground.  And after a while, I settled underneath a large, gnarly tree that was on the edge of this sacred space.

With stolen time to sit and think, I spread out and looked up through those dark, outstretched branches to the brilliant blue sky beyond.  Being in the middle of winter with its covering of leaves long gone, the ugliness of those limbs was laid bare for the world to see.  Exposed.  And even as those immense branches reached heavenward, there was no denying the evidence of past storms... knobs where limbs should have been, branches that took sudden, awkward twists and turns, gashes in the bark.  Like I said, gnarly.

Gnarly, but still reaching.

I could relate to that.

What poured out in that moment and filled me right back up was the mirror-like reflection I faced in looking up through that tree.  With the absence of all things green, what was left behind seemed a skeleton of what once was.  And yet there was this reaching.  When so much appeared brown and brittle, hope remained.  In the midst of brokenness, there was a sense of praise- wounded arms outstretched.  

But, HOW?  Where is that kind of hope found?

It’s found in Christ.  Hope in the One who is the Creator, Lover, and Redeemer of mankind (John 1:1-4, 2 Peter 3:9). Hope in the One who promised salvation for all who believe (John 3:16).  Hope in the One who knows us intimately (Psalm 139:13).  Hope in the One who cares and comforts the brokenhearted (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, 1 Peter 5:6-7).  Hope in the One who will continue to sanctify and mold us for His purposes until we see Him one day face to face, whole and perfected (Philippians 1:6, 3:12).  Hope in the One who is preparing a place for us (John 14:2).  And no matter my circumstances, it’s this Truth of Hope that paves the way for worship... even as my weaknesses are laid bare.

So, may these exposed branches still reach, still stretch, still praise.  May my heart soften with the remembrance of all that He is and all that He promised, regardless of the aching, the longing, and the questions.  May His Truth of Hope light up the dark places where doubt tries to seep.  And let that be enough to sustain me through this season of winter...

...but may spring follow in quick succession with its promise of fresh green growth, shooting up from the broken and the brown.

the song without words

*I wrote this at the beginning of last November, but wanted to share it again so as to explain an upcoming post!*

After all of the Halloween festivities at Grandmom and Granddad’s house had died down, I sat for a minute to play the piano.  And as I flipped through one of their many music books, I came across a song I’d never heard before.  It was simple, yet it had that bit of longing to it, as though it was reaching out for resolution, for hope, for peace.  And as I played, I could feel my heart connecting to that wordless message.

I had a miscarriage last week.  I wasn’t very far along and know that this is a fairly common occurance early on in pregnancies.  But just as I had done with Nathan and Stephen, from the second I had found out I was pregnant, I prayed with such joy, such excitement, such hope for this little one.  And simultaneously, I began picturing life as a family of five, planning and adjusting to the changes that would bring.  But four days later, I started spotting.  And when that spotting turned to cramping, I knew.  Just like that, my joy turned into mourning.  

Of course I prayed that God would work a miracle.  But I knew then and still believe that part of our journey as believers is to walk through dark places in order to be light to a hopeless world.  So the majority of my prayer centered on God revealing Himself, even in the midst of pain, so that I would have the strength to bring Him glory through it.  I longed for that reminder that He was ever present as I walked through this valley.  But unlike any other time in my life, I continued feeling empty, dry, numb.  I tried remembering back to other times of God’s faithfulness in revealing Himself through my pain, but it just seemed to bounce off of my heart.  I was searching for a fresh resolve, a new word of comfort from the One I’m to lean on when the darkness feels like it’s taking over. 

And then came Sunday, and with it, a “Night of Worship” at our church.  To be honest, the thought of singing great big praise songs with arms outstretched was not at all what my heart wanted to do.  My desired worship set was one that I’m not sure even exists, and certainly not what most folks would want to incorporate into a time of worship.  But I feel like worship is only sincere when it’s echoing what my heart is currently expressing.  So as I thought of the types of songs I could sing with honesty, more of David’s Psalms came to mind.  This one in particular:

"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...

...Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.

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

...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." (Psalms 13)

Not the kind of words you hear in most popular hymns or choruses.

But I took comfort in knowing that David, a man after God’s own heart, had moments of wandering through a spiritual desert, feeling alone and forsaken.  His songs sound more like a pleading for God to reveal Himself in a way that would bring hope to his current place of pain and struggle.  And what I think is so magnificent is that even in his confusion and desperation for God’s presence, David trusts God's UNFAILING love, praising God for his salvation and for His goodness.  That is some kind of FAITH!  Unlike Eve, who entertained and then acted on Satan’s lies that God was not so good nor His love unfailing, we find David clinging to the Truth of salvation and God’s goodness, even when he can’t see or even feel His presence.

I wish I could tie up this little note with a bow, claiming that I’m now where David was, able to praise God for His goodness in spite of the darkness.  But that wouldn’t be honest.  But what I CAN say is that I now have a target, a place for my spirit to aim as it wades through the hurt.   And I can also now recognize the Enemy, the one who’d love nothing better than for me to buy into his lies that God is not as good as He claims to be, that He doesn’t love like I’ve always banked on, and that He’s chosen to leave me in this place alone.  So, that’s a start.

And as my fingers repeated that song without words, I felt something more than numbness.  It was hope in the center of my longing.  So, maybe my heart has its own songs of praise to sing, ones where words just fall short.  For now, at least.  But in the meantime, I’ll cling to the promise of the Holy Spirit’s interceding on my behalf, where words cannot express.

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."  Romans 8:26

Blog Bobber: Public Speaking 101

If you’re a fishing guy or gal, you know the value of a good bobber.  Not only does it provide you with something colorful to gaze at for hours as you wait endlessly for a nibble on the end of your line, but it also keeps that worm-filled hook of yours from sinking to the lake bottom and getting helplessly stuck.  Ultimately, it has the potential of providing a cuss-free fishing expedition (that is, until you cast straight up into the nasty pine tree that’s now mocking you as it displays three other fishermans' abandoned lures and dashed dreams).

So, what in the world is a blog bobber?  Well, I have to give props to my friend Ashlee for this one.  A few years ago she let me in on a little secret; she explained to me that she felt like one of her duties to all mankind was to be prepared in any given conversation to take on the role of “conversation bobber.”  Let me explain.  Is this convo sinking fast into the murky, thick waters of depressingly deep thoughts?  Quick, say something like “Hey, did you see that hilarious youtube video of the woman singing a duet with her rotund feline friend?”  And just like that, the conversation bobs right back up to surface level, and we can all breathe a huge sigh of relief.  

You’re catching my drift now.  My “blog bobbers” are going to be pointless (and hopefully humorous) posts that have no significance other than to keep us all from sinking into the quagmire of too deep self-inspection.  ‘Cause really, we all need a little air now and then, right?  Plus nothing beats a good gut-busting guffaw...it’s better than an ab workout, I’d say.  

So, here’s my first one.  Get ready to laugh (at my expense).

I’m pretty extraverted.  And ever since I was a kid, I didn’t shy away from public speaking.  (Well, minus a few super awkward years in late middle school and early high school... I think we can ALL be glad that I held back just a little at that point in my life.  Yikes.)  So while I was working at a large church in the area organizing local missions opportunities, I was asked to speak a little about how we were involved in the surrounding refugee community.  And I was glad to!  Excited, even.  It was (and still is) a passion of mine.  And although my “go-to” when I get a little nervous is always humor, this talk was going to be simple, straight forward, and free of jokes.  (This, coming from a person who’s informative speech topic of choice in Public Speaking 101 was titled “From Primitive to Porcelain: a Study of the Evolution of Toilets.”)

So, I prayed a bunch, prepared, prayed some more, and anticipated the opportunity.  And when the moment came, I stood up in front of 500+ people and laid it all out.  And as an uncanny peace settled on me, I knew it was from God.  My ideas flowed, the words came naturally, and all went well.  But as I was drawing it all to a close, I was challenging folks to not make excuses about why they couldn’t get involved.  What I meant to say was “But there’s a caveat, here.”  Unfortunately, what I actually said (and please go with me here and mentally picture the following body language)- with my hands extended out at waist-high height and motioning ever-so-slightly up and down for emphasis: 

“But I have a big ‘but,’ here.”  

My brother snickered.  As did his other high school friends around him.  

And in a moment that felt like forever, I was grabbing hold of all that I could so as not to bust out laughing uncontrollably, and went on without more than a slight upturning of the right corner of my mouth.  But, man oh man, have I been harassed about it ever since.  And truth be told, I more than earned it.  

And yes, for you inquiring minds, it was recorded.  And since my self-deprecation knows no limit, I’ll have to see if I can figure out a way to attach an audio clip to my blog at some point, ‘cause you don’t need to miss out on my verbal nightmare.  :)

P.S. The largeness of my bum region aside, the night continued rather successfully.  Apparently, folks can look past the size of my backside and still be very eager to get plugged in to serving new refugee families.  So, I guess it can be chalked up to a needed dose of humility on my “end”.  ;)

So, let’s have it.  Do YOU have a moment similar to this?  C’mon, don’t be afraid.  Sharing is good for the soul...  

Worship or Waste?

Matthew 26:6-13:

 "6 While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, 7 a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.

 8 When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. “Why this waste?” they asked. 9 “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.”

 10 Aware of this, Jesus said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 11 The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me. 12 When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. 13 I tell you the truth, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

Jesus’ disciples stood in condemnation of this woman’s act of worship.  And honestly, their argument is actually pretty practical.  “The money gained from the selling of that perfume could have done ‘so much more’ for the poor if it hadn’t been poured out so ‘wastefully.’”  But what I can’t help but walk away from this story with is a deep conviction to be cautious when standing in criticism of anyone else’s “act of worship.”  

And what is “worship”?  

Here’s one of the places I look to in finding the answer:

“Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-this is your spiritual act of worship.  Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.   Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is-his good, pleasing, and perfect will.”  Romans 12:1-2

And along with a willingness to lay your life down as a living sacrifice while being transformed, there’s the part about walking in obedience to His commands.

“But Samuel replied; ‘Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the voice of the Lord?  To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams.’”  1 Samuel 15:22

“If you love Me, you will obey what I command.” Jesus in John 14:15

And what if in these positions of worship, these steps of obedience to the Spirit’s leading, you find yourself in an unusual place, doing unusual things?  

Look at Moses.  “Stick out your staff, and the waters will part.”  Really?  That doesn’t seem at all feasible.  What if You just strike the Egyptian army with another deadly plague?  

Or how about Joshua; “March around Jericho for seven days and the city wall will crumble.”  Yeeaahhh... about that, God.  What if we hold a strategic brainstorming session instead?  A seven day march would just deplete the people of energy, energy that we’ll need for the next conquest.  

Or another favorite, David; “Come here, shepherd boy.  I want you to face the 9 foot terror named Goliath, that trained soldier over there who happens to wield a ginormous sword and be donned in chiseled armor, with... a slingshot.  Oh, and a rock.  Five, really, but you’ll only need the first one.”  Ummmm....what?!?!  That just seems plain ol’ dumb.  

But that’s not the way the stories go, is it?  In each of these instances, God’s people walked in faithful obedience... and what beautiful acts of worship they were!  Their outward acts may not have made sense to anyone else, but in that obedience, God was most certainly glorified.

So, if we are offering our lives as living sacrifices, if we are being transformed by the Spirit and allowing our minds to be renewed, then God will reveal His will to us.  And sometimes, His will may look bizarre to those standing close enough to critique it.  But even if our “worship” in those moments causes a backlash of criticism, it’s really the best (and only!) posture of praise that we can take.  Simply put, we choose to worship by obeying Him anyway.

So, coming back to those well-meaning disciples... when we are in the position of onlookers to another believer’s efforts, we would do well to recognize that God does indeed work in unexpected ways with a sometimes surprising cast of characters.  And maybe our response should be to put down our pitchforks and prayerfully consider our words before slashing another’s attempts to obey.  Should we be discerning?  Most certainly.  Are there folks out there who may be misled themselves as they attempt to lead others?  Undoubtedly.  But let it be the Spirit inside us that guides us to wisdom in those moments, and not our own fleshly desire to show off our uniqueness and spiritual intelligence by running to assume the position of “critic.”  

Man, I don’t want to be the first in line murmuring, “What a waste.  That perfume could have done so much more,” all the while, the Savior of us both is pleased beyond measure with such an obediently gorgeous act of worship.  At that point, the only thing really “wasted” would be the opportunity I had to join in worshiping the One who uses us ALL as little clay vessels to display His Glory and His Renown. 

Lines on the Road...

I remember so vividly blasting this song over the factory speakers of my beloved hunter green '95 Dodge Neon as I sped down 985N to make curfew...

"Keep on comin', these lines on the road.

And keep me responsible, be it a light or heavy load. 

Keep me guessin', with these blessings in disguise,

and I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes."

Being the oldest of four and very much a family gal, leaving for college was a little emotional for me... okay, it was a LOT emotional for me.  How in the world would they all survive without me or me without them, being a whole 2 HOURS away?!?  (Can you tell I'm very much the oldest?  Good grief...)  And so there were more than a few trips back to college after a weekend at home that I would get all sentimental and tearfully belt it out alongside my discman/tape-adaptor contraption allowing me to listen to my cd collection of Derek Webb and the rest of the Caedmon's Call gang.  And although life has certainly changed since my squirrelly days of freshman revelry at Toccoa Falls College, the sentiment of the song has kept right in step with the maturing of this recovering people-pleaser. 

 "Keep 'em comin', these lines on the road."

I think that we can all agree on one simple fact.  Life goes on.  But for us as believers, we find comfort in the reality of God's Sovereignty.  Whether in those moments of deep pain or indescribable joy, creeping doubts or foundation-solidifying confirmations, we hold on tight to the One who is Lord over it all.  And what's more, we cling to the promise that we are foreigners in a land that's not our home.  By setting our sights on our final destination, we see the richness that would be lost if we took the enticing detour of gratifying our fleshly dreams which are limited to the dimensions of "here and now."  There is hope beyond.  There is peace beyond.  There is perfect love in the form of the Lamb, a place containing no more veiled glimpses, but a full out display of glorious Light in the Perfection of the Risen Son.  

So my goal remains to be steadfast in faith as I continue this journey, with every passing line.  And since I'm a bit of a verbal processor, I figured that blogging would help me visualize the bigger picture from my limited perspective.  Plus, it's bound to make you feel better about yourself and simultaneously provide some comic relief as I share a slice of my life as the sometimes overly-dramatic mom of two boys who has an unhealthy fear of all things medical.  (Which is why I married a clinical pharmacist??  Remind me to tell you about the time that I took a shared jump drive to Wolf Camera to develop some oh-so-cute pics of my two boys and accidentally came across Prasad's slideshow presentation of life in Grady Hospital's E.R... sucking wind while simultaneously leaping off of a stool is sure to get a rise from folks, let me just tell you.)   

P.S.. I hope my honesty doesn't scare you away.  :)

P.P.S. I'm also unnaturally afraid of legal documents and most types of formal paperwork.  Really, really terrified.  (I owe that to my 4 years of financial aid craziness.  The term "Pell Grant" still makes me shudder.)