Oct 3, 2013 | 31 Days, The Good Word
Hi there! This post is part of a 31-Day writing adventure I’m embarking on. I’d love for you to join me and read along. You can find the introduction to the series, and a “Table of Contents” as each day goes live, right here. Thanks so much for dropping in!
There are some very serious things going on in the world right now. A child is dying of hunger every fifteen seconds. {You can do something to help here.} Because of human trafficking, there are more people in slavery than ever before. {See previous link – World Vision is also fighting human trafficking.} There is talk of a forceful disarmament in Syria — and it sounds a lot like war. And in the USA, the government is shutting down over a disagreement about spending, and health care.
Why do the nations rage and the people plot a vain thing? … {Ps. 2:1}
People are very nervous, even fearful about what the future holds. How much will they have to spend to get the care that they need? Will they be able to afford it? Will they have to switch to a health care plan that will have high deductibles and low coverage? It can create anxiety in the most peaceful of souls.
Even if the circumstances in the world around you aren’t enough to bring you down, you probably have something in your own life that you’d change in a heartbeat if you could. You may have recently walked through something that still has you reeling — you’re fighting to find your feet and wondering what moving forward looks like.
The unexpected events of life are often holy ground.
When my Dad was in the hospital for that never-ending week earlier this year, and we didn’t know what the outcome would be, I clung to hope until my knuckles were white, but I knew that hope had to be grounded not in my Dad’s recovery (though I was absolutely praying for it). I knew that my hope had to be in the goodness of God Himself.
I couldn’t see what was going to happen, so I had to lean on blind trust, looking to the God who could see.
I chose to trust that life would go on. I chose thankfulness for the time we had together before he was gone. And when I chose to lean on His wisdom, and not my own understanding, I was met with unmistakeable peace.
James explained it like this:
But the wisdom from above is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It shows no favoritism and is always sincere. {James 3:17}
And this is a very unexpected discovery: the “wisdom” of the world — knowledge about the things going on around the world, understanding of the intricacies of the issues, both domestic and abroad, is likely to lead to deeper anxiety.
It looks like the world is a big blooming mess.
But the verses in the Psalm I previously mentioned? They go on to say “He who sits in the heavens shall laugh; The Lord shall hold them in derision.” {Psalm 2:4}
What does that mean? God is not anxious about the outcome. You get the feeling that He considers some of the grand schemes of the nations amusing. Not because He doesn’t care about us.
I imagine it’s more like a moment when one of my children, in their innocence, tries to do something that seems logical to them, in their limited understanding. A few weeks ago, the Tank, who is learning to undress himself, kept pulling one arm out of his sleeve. He’d stick it up through the collar of his shirt and then feel stuck and not know what to do next.
When he asked for help with a perplexed look on his face, I’d laugh and gladly put things right.
In the same way, I think there are times when — as humbling as it is to admit it sometimes — God’s ways are absolutely higher than ours. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. Our capacity is too limited to get it.
As a result, the wisdom from heaven sometimes looks a lot like trust. We are wise enough to know we are not as wise as we think we are. We rather choose to trust that God is as wise as we believe He is, and, even in the face of health care scares, or losing someone of you love, somehow, the one thing you can be sure of, is His glorious goodness.
This is the wisdom that brings peace.
He is sovereign. He is altogether good. He sits in the heavens and laughs — which reminds us that this vapor we call life can probably be taken a little less seriously.
We can trust without seeing now, and this helps us to truly see: the best is yet to come. How perfectly fitting, we often call that “Going home to glory.”
xCC
Oct 2, 2013 | 31 Days, Stories, The Good Word
Hi there! This post is the second in a 31-Day writing adventure I’m embarking on. I’d love for you to join me and read along. You can find the introduction to the series, and a “Table of Contents” as each day goes live, right here. Thanks so much for dropping in!
If there is one thing I can pinpoint that I find most frustrating about the experience of being human, it’s humanity. Not everybody else’s humanity — it’s my own shortcomings that, metaphorically speaking, keep getting under my skin.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a rather unfortunate experience at the bank, where someone made a pretty bad judgment call about what was happening when I was being helped by the teller. He made a very hurtful comment and followed it up by not being willing to hear what I had to say in defense of the significant amount of time I took with the teller. I cried in my car… cried again when one of the tellers called to apologize while I was in the parking lot at Walmart… it basically just kind of stunk.
I shared the story just after it happened, but I haven’t yet shared the follow-up story, what happened the Monday after that fateful Friday afternoon. By the end of the incident, I knew the name of the gentleman who’d spoken so harshly to me. When I got home from my errands and shared what had happened, the Hubs was… pretty much livid.
He handled it well, but decided he wanted to do something in my defense. So, on Monday afternoon, I was busy in my kitchen when he walked in with the phone in his hand and said “Someone wants to speak with you.”
He’d contacted the guy from the bank, explained that he’d been rude to his wife, and said he owed me an apology. I answered the phone and he apologized in an “if I have offended you…” sort of way. Not really committing — if you get my drift?
I took a moment to explain what was happening at the bank that afternoon when he was waiting in line. That there were 112 checks to process. That those checks were to cover my Dad’s medical bills. That that day was the six month anniversary of his death.
And once he had the whole story? He really apologized. Through a few more tears, I encouraged him to remember that you don’t always know what is going on in other’s people’s lives, so it’s best to be careful with everyone. He agreed that that was good advice and seemed to sincerely take it to heart.
At the end of the interaction, I was thankful I’d had the opportunity to speak with him, appreciated the apology, and was especially grateful to the amazing husband who stood in the kitchen with me, held me while I cried once more and said “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” {Hero, more and more all the time…}
Reflecting on this incident, I see myself in the bank story — but I’m not always the protagonist. Sometimes I’m the one misjudging others, the one who doesn’t really want to hear the explanations for what I’ve already made my own judgments about. Sometimes I’m one of the other customers in line who stands there and agrees with the guy who’s getting impatient, stoking the fire instead of suggesting there’s the possibility that something else is going on there.
I say things I later regret. I do things I wish I didn’t do. And this is the frailty that makes the human experience so challenging. Our imperfections and weaknesses are an integral part of the story — we even say it, when we make mistakes:
I’m only human.
And that only human place? That is the place where God steps in with strength for our frailty.
What seems like a liability, God turns into an asset.
Paul explains it this way:
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. {2 Cor. 12: 9-10}
Paul’s weakness started out as a source of frustration for him, but in God’s glorious goodness, He saw it fit to redeem those weaknesses — and turn them into a personal advantage. The more weakness we struggle with, the more we can lean on the power of God instead of trying to stand on our own {in}sufficiency.
We will make bad calls. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll make misjudgments. We might sometimes be the one that sends someone else to their minivan in tears, and not even know it.
But there is grace and forgiveness for those poor choices, and by the help of the Holy Spirit, there is the hope that we can walk the line a little better next time, that we can stay in step with the Spirit, that we can follow the example of Jesus.
Will we ever be completely comfortable in our own skin? Probably not. But that God chooses to stand with us, work through us, forgive us and use us anyway? It’s nothing short of glorious.
xCC
Oct 1, 2013 | 31 Days, The Good Word
Hi there! This post is the first in a 31-Day writing adventure I’m embarking on. I’d love for you to join me and read along. You can find the introduction to the series, and a “Table of Contents” as each day goes live, right here. Thanks so much for dropping in!
The last time I thought about it, I think I was staring out the kitchen window, hands deep in gloves deep in hot, soapy water, washing dishes. I’m sure I was busy wondering how it was all going to get done on that particular day: the homeschooling, the laundry, the diaper changes and naps and lunch and starting dinner and returning phone calls and trying my darnedest to check a thing or two off the estate-settling list while posting a sneak peek for Quiver Tree.
When I look back at that list? It is dumb. Because life never comes at you that way. If you’re on the baseball field, the pitcher throws one ball, and that’s what you deal with. If you’re on the tennis court, there’s just one ball coming at you, unless the person playing on the next court over is just that bad. Maybe if you’re feeling really adventurous or you’re Forrest Gump, you’ll try to simultaneously play ping pong with two people and two balls.
But really? I’ve never been slapped with a moment where there were literally eight things that needed to happen simultaneously. Sure, sometimes, more than one kid is crying or more than one diaper needs changing. But usually? Even if there are a hundred things on the list, they never all have to happen right then. The tough part is always choosing the one.
I’ve realized I think I make those lists in my head to make me feel better about the fact that I’m walking around with a bad attitude.
Don’t expect me to have a good attitude, dang it, can’t you see my list!?!
As I stood there with my hands deep in gloves deep in water in the sink, I began to feel for a moment, as if I was sinking like the heavy dishes I’d been scrubbing. But a little hope can go a very long way — I purposefully redirected my attention to God.
It probably went something like, “Lord, do You see my list?” {Sigh.}
And the reminder that immediately followed was a gift in word-form:
Just take it one day at a time.
There have absolutely been moments in my life where I’ve thought about how nice it would be to get a glimpse of the big picture. How much easier it would be to endure the tough moments if I could go ahead and see past them, see what’s around the bend. There have been moments where I’ve realized I’ve allowed my brain to wander down a rabbit trail of what-ifs that involve future possibilities that are so stinking unlikely it’s ridiculous. Or how many times have I re-lived past failures in my head, as if I could concentrate hard enough to change them?
But in His glorious goodness, the Lord already knows this thing that I’m slowly warming up to: the best way to live the days that you’re given is one at a time. Forget what’s behind and press on, but don’t worry about tomorrow, each day has enough trouble of its own.
So, friends, here it is: an unexpected gift that you have the privilege of enjoying. One slice of your wildly precious life. Savor it and make the most of it.
You always only ever have today. What a gloriously good gift.
xCC
Sep 30, 2013 | 31 Days, Stories, The Good Word
Hi there! I’m posting the links to each day on this post to make it easy for folks to find them. Please scroll down to read the #31 days series introduction!
Day 1: One Day at a Time
Day 2: The Strength in Our Frailty (And the Guy at the Bank)
Day 3: Blind Faith Sees
Day 4: On Dragons, Angels and Jesus
Day 5: You Got Spirit, Let’s Hear It
Day 6: The Declaration of Un-independence
Day 7: Fight Fear with Good
Day 8: Holy Stooping and Drama Llamas
Day 9: Lost and Found
Day 10: The Gift in Giving
Day 11: Finding Yourself
Day 12: Life’s Beautiful Brevity
Day 13: Blessed Obedience
Day 14: Joy from Ashes
Day 15: A Heads Up at Halfway
Day 16: Work Worth Waiting For
Day 17: When Less is More
Day 18: Beautiful No-Nos
Day 19: The Voice(s)
Day 20: Faith is a Team Sport
Day 21: On Entering Negative Space
Day 22: Using Your Voice
Day 23: Simple Trust
Day 24: Because You Know What They Say
Day 25: For When You Can’t Keep Going, But You Must
Day 26: Unconventional Wisdom
Day 27: Love in the Small Stuff OR Lessons from Baby Clothes
Day 28: Overlooking the Junk for the Love
Day 29: That Super-hard L-Word
Day 30: The Joyful Decrease
Day 31: Reflections on His Goodness
I guess this story really starts about five years ago, when The Nester wrote about the same topic for 31 days. She has a fantastic blog about, well, nesting naturally, but about 3,700 other great topics fit inside of that realm, too. And five years ago, she wrote, I loved it, and I thought, “Ooh! I want to do that!” The next year, she invited eight friends to join in, and I, from far away in South Africa, read along and thought, “Ooh, I still want to do that!” and the next year, she sort of “opened it to the general public” and 746 people jumped in. I thought, “Ooh, I still want to do that!” but I think I was moving countries and had some small children or something.
Then, last year, 31 Days arrived again and I thought, “Oooooh! I still want to do that!” But I was very pregnant and certain the little one would arrive early and I was unwilling to sacrifice sleep and I had other small children and… wow, here I am making excuses again.
So, this year, I decided to bring this little challenge before the Lord and let Him make the excuses for me, because then I would feel better about having an excuse not to do something that I think would be quite good for me. I was standing in front of the washing machine, which thankfully has a window behind it which allows me to look out toward the river while I ponder how much time I actually spend on laundry each week, and wonder what the bottom of my laundry basket looks like, if it does, in fact, exist.
The conversation went like this:
“Lord, I constantly get the sense that You want me to write more, and I feel like I need to get over some internal hump and just jump brave in, and I think writing for 31 days would be a really good way to actually show myself that these books You have stirring in my heart could actually turn into something on paper if I’d be disciplined enough to do it.”
Okay, do over, I think the conversation went more like this. Although all of the above was in my head and heart at the time, so the Lord ‘got it’ without me ‘splainin.
“Lord, I feel like I should do that 31 Days thing. But I don’t know what to write about. So. If You want me to do it, will You please give me a topic?”
[Complete silence, both external and internal.]
I walk away thinking I might be off the hook.
But then. This weekend, the smalls and I travelled along with HH to a wedding a wee ways west of Winston-Salem… I don’t know if it could be classified as the mountainous section of North Carolina, but it was at least foothilly enough to be inspirational for me.
We needed the Belle to have a little morning nap in the hotel room, so HH took the boys out to play and I was there with a sleeping baby, no laundry to fold, and … silence.
So I started reading, which, for me, kind of naturally turns into writing, and then, plain as day, the Lord simply whispered a little theme to my heart, which I am pretty sure if I looked back would be a recurring theme, a bright pink thread, right straight through, from the early days when this blog still had Smiling, Avocado and Bacon in the title. And if you can remember those days, well then, leave a comment because you’re one of eleven.
To test and see if this was actually a 31-dayable topic, I quickly flipped to a clean page, jotted down the numbers 1 – 31, and promptly came up with 22 post ideas in less than 22 minutes. Perhaps even ten. Minutes that is.
And then, my friends, I was cornered. In His glorious goodness, He kept His end of the bargain… so I have to keep mine.
And for the next 31 days, heaven help me, I’ll be writing about exactly that: His glorious goodness.
As I proceed toward the end of a year that might, for all intents and purposes seem not good, (considering the unexpected loss of my Dad this March) and as I work through a soul-challenging season where my plate seems uber-full — and not of bacon or avocado or even a slice of home-baked bread — I am somehow confident that putting this new thing on my plate, where I am actively looking in unexpected places to find ways to say He is so good, there is the significant possibility that everything else will suddenly look a heckuvalot better, or perhaps go strangely dim, which will help me to recognize how small it all is in comparison.
Part of the challenge for me will be not simply saying “He’s good because there’s Jesus and forgiveness and stuff” but actually searching for redemption in the hard, the broken, and even in the just plain ordinary. The other part of the challenge will be the discipline of getting up and writing each morning for the next 31 days.
So, quick question for you. Will you join me in a conversation about His Glorious Goodness over the next 31 days? If you are along for the ride, it will make it so much more meaningful for me. I write because when I do, you write back and tell me how much it has meant to you — and I can’t say thank you enough to you amazing people, far and wide, who have taken the time to say Thank you or That meant something to me.
I’ve had the privilege of hearing many of your stories, and sometimes even meeting some of you, and it has been such a joy, SUCH a gift. You dear readers and social media-sharers and encouraging commenters and (I’m usually blessed and embarrassed at the same time) dear folks who put quote marks around something I’ve said, attach my name to it and pass it on… I write for you, and it is totally His glorious goodness, that He gives good gifts, and then we get to be gifts to each other, because of Him. But maybe that’s a topic for Day 17 or something?
That was a lengthy rabbit trail. Back to the subject, my apologies:
Will you join me on the #31Days adventure? You can follow along by subscribing to my blog or liking With Love, From Here’s page on Facebook or, obviously, just coming right back every day this month.
I hope so. I think it’s for me, but I’m secretly (well I guess it’s not a secret now) pretty sure this is for you, too.
Isn’t that glorious?
xCC
{You can also follow other #31days participants by searching that hashtag at Twitter or visiting the Nester’s Link-Up Page. — I will link to it once it goes live later this evening!}
Sep 26, 2013 | In the Name of Love, The Good Word
I occasionally marvel at the incredible ability my children sometimes have to hear something coming out of my mouth but not listen to a single word I’m saying. We might be in close proximity, or I might be calling from the other room — somehow they are born with an in-built ability to completely tune out the sound of my voice once they reach eighteen months or so.
I was contemplating my own listening patterns this morning, however, and realized my children and I have something in common. Sometimes I sense the still, small voice of the Lord whispering something to my heart, but I want to keep doing what I’m doing, so I don’t give it any of my attention.
Over the weekend, I was busy getting a bunch of stuff done around the house that needed doing. My Mom had come over to help and we were knocking out laundry by the basketload, I was scrubbing tubs, she was changing sheets — it was a very busy morning, but it felt so good to be getting so much accomplished. During an eager floor-scrubbing session, I sensed the whisper of the Lord, almost one of those taps on the shoulder that you feel in your heart. It seemed like an invitation to sit still for a moment.
I’m sad to say I kept on working. My Mom was helping, I was eager to get stuff done, perhaps I was afraid the Lord was displeased with me and didn’t want to hear what He had to say. But looking back, and knowing how good and sweet His words are, how full of life, I realized it was a missed opportunity.
I forgot that, in my case, (I can’t always say the same for my children), communing with the Creator of the Universe is a privilege not to be taken lightly.
Sarah Young points out in Jesus Calling
that “Kings who reign on earth tend to make themselves inaccessible; ordinary people almost never gain an audience with them.” But how glorious is it that the Lord, though King of the Universe, is totally accessible to you and me, and is with us wherever we are! (p.281)
And Isaiah 55:3 says,
Come to me with your ears wide open. Listen and you will find life. I will make an everlasting covenant with you. I will give you the unfailing love I promised David.
God’s invitation to come includes promises like rest for the weary, an easy burden and a light yoke, grace, mercy that’s new every morning, compassion that never fails.
I wonder what marvelous gifts from the Lord’s heart I’ve missed, all the times I’ve decided to close my ears and just “do what I want to do.”
In the case of my kids, the number one solution I’ve found to the ears wide shut problem is often asking them to look at me. I usually say, “[Kid name] look at my eyes.” I wait for them to stop what they’re doing and change their gaze to meet mine, and then I am able to communicate with them whatever it is I want to say.
And perhaps there’s a very good parallel to hearing from the Lord. That still small voice can’t be heard if your own voice is shouting, your own heart is beating loudly from exhaustive efforts, your own hands are working and making a din of their own.
Sometimes, He does whisper while we work. But sometimes, we must be willing to come with ears wide open, to put down the dishcloth or the iPhone, the expense report or the dirty laundry.
He’s asking us to Be Still and Know {Ps. 46:10} and if we can’t be still, then we won’t know.
Have you sensed that gentle nudge, that shoulder tap, the warm sense in your chest lately? Don’t be afraid to stop what you’re doing and turn your gaze to meet that of your Creator. Put down what you can for a while, and let the eyes of your soul rest on His.
Listen, and you will find life.
xCC
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