Faithful and True

This year the person who is grabbing my attention more than anyone else in the Christmas story is John the Baptist. I think he's fascinating. I mean, he recognized the Savior of the world before he was even born; 'leaping' with delight. Clearly he was set apart and clearly he 'got it'. John knew who Jesus was, he knew what He came to do, and he knew he was set apart to play a role in response to that. He's definitely on my list of people I'd love to meet. I'd be willing to bet that he was one strange dude; which, I admit, makes me like him all the more.

But it's not John's birth that's stirring me up right now, it's his words later in life. When questioned by priests and Levites about who he is, he says with confidence, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord,' as the prophet Isaiah said." Without any context, this sounds like a red carpet moment. The words are worthy of some finely dressed herald declaring the entrance of a king. But John isn't nicely dressed and the One he is referring to is an individual that was born in a barn and raised in incredibly simple circumstances.

So in one hand I'm forming this image of a baby born into an extremely vulnerable family and situation, with no appearance of 'royalty' whatsoever. Now hold that thought ... cuz then there's the other hand ...

I've spent some time in Revelation. You don't need too much of an imagination for the book, it does a great job painting the picture for you. So as I 'pictured' the words I was reading, I caught my breath on vs. 19:11 where it says, "Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it was called Faithful and True" The description that follows intensifies the image, but I keep coming back to this verse. Now that's what a king is supposed to look like! Although, it's not so much the image that gets me; it's His names. Faithful and True are not concepts or character traits ... they are the very essence of who this King is. So much so that it's His name: King Faithful, King True. I don't really know how to put it into words, but something about that is super powerful to me. Names are personal and identify us. Faithful is a person. Truth is a person. We believe in, we talk to, we worship a person!!

So, I hold out my two hands and just can't seem to reconcile these two pictures. This is the same person?! The King riding on that white horse and ready for battle is the same person as the little baby that slept in a manger? My mind spins ...

If I had a third hand, it would be holding the fact that I have a relationship with this person, that I talk to Him, and that He's present with me even as I write this. Good thing I don't have 3 hands, or trying to reconcile all of that would spin my mind faster than it could handle.

John must have had 3 hands. He personally knew and interacted with 'God made flesh', yet he proclaimed Him as royalty. He was a voice for Christ's first coming ... Maybe, we're the voice for His second? King Faithful, King True is coming again on a white horse in pure holiness and justice. For real. He really is! That leaves me realizing I'm part of something so so much bigger than myself. We're not outside this story, we're in it. We are (or atleast have the potential to be) voices ... making straight the way of the Lord.

my Author

Several times this school year I've had the thought that 'God is the Author of my story' get stuck in my head. It's been one of those thoughts that sort of spirals in and out, each time sinking in a little deeper. I had shared this with a friend a little while back and hadn't thought too much about it since then until she referred to it in a conversation we had today. It hit the deepest yet ....

You see, today I found myself slowly moving toward the 'gloomy' side of things. No big reason why, actually I was pretty annoyed by it. I guess I just felt tired of things staying as they were and I got consumed in the moment - as if my perception of things right now was a foreshadowing of a dim tomorrow. Again, I was annoyed by this.

I had another conversation today where my plans for next year came up. In all honesty, I expressed how I had no idea how things would play out for me - and therefore no idea what next year would look like - well, other than staying in Hungary. Something in that exchange threatened the stillness my heart was resting in. Maybe because I often search for peace in 'knowing' - I somehow convince myself that the more I know or can predict, the more peace I will have. But peace never comes that way because there is always that 'unknown' that threatens to rob you of what you do know. And here is the beginning of worry - not a place I care to spend much time.

So in the middle of these 'emotions' (and mostly because of my friends little reminder) I found myself repeating the words, "He is the author of my story and the perfecter of my faith." The more I said them, the more in awe I grew. He has written my story and He has perfected my faith. He is writing my story and He is perfecting my faith. My mind suddenly felt like a movie where all these scenes started flashing at me. Specific memories popped up, times where I cried so hard I felt sick and times where I laughed so hard I could no longer stand up. Times where I felt completely alone and times where I couldn't have felt more full. Times where I begged God desperately for things that I never got and times where I was overflowing with gratitude at what He'd given me. Then I'd see people's faces. People who left me full and people who left me shattered and broken - all impacting me in significant ways. But what is blowing me away more than anything else right now is that God wrote all that! And it's a fantastic story. Interwoven in each intentional event is the story of redemption. The story of this ugly, selfish little girl whose sin is found out by a perfectly Holy God - who doesn't condemn her, but redeems her! And the more you read the story, the more you realize that this is a Master author who wastes no details. Nothing. Every single detail somehow 'mysteriously' plays a role in perfecting this worthless little thing - giving her value and beauty and purity. It all  leaves me so undone.

So, in light of that, I'm sitting here feeling the tension that this 'thought' brings. The tension between feeling 'doomed' and feeling 'redeemed'. This sanctification process, it's no small thing. I mean, really, it's not! It's painful and requires total surrender to the process. It means I quit all these foolish attempts at grabbing the pen and editing my story ... But, you know, I think when we do that -when we let go- we experience the most exhilerating parts of the journey. "We are not in control, we are therefore free."

All that to say ... may we surrender to the Author today and enjoy fully the beauty of this story.

crashing waves

If you've spent any time talking to me or reading these posts, you probably already know that surrender has been a pretty huge and consistent theme in my life lately. This journey toward 'letting go' continues ...

It's not so much that I want to understand what surrender is (although I do think there's a whole lot there I don't get), it's more that I'm just barely tasting it and wondering if it's something I'm capable of consuming. Telling myself it's a good idea to surrender is completely different from feeling my spirit releasing even the smallest sense of 'control' over to the unknown. Trusting that, even though I cannot see, touch, or manipulate Him, God exists in the 'unknown' - not as a distant and fading concept, but as a living, active, intimately involved Being who is always loving on and caring for me. This is where my mind starts to spin ... so I'll move on.

Recently, all these thoughts have turned into a felt 'challenge' to actually live this out. I've taken a lot of personality tests and there's always those common results that emerge. One of those is that that I'm a 'conflict avoider'. I've always thought about that in an external sense, but lately I'm realizing it's pretty true internally as well. My days are full of little moments that threaten my sense of control and instantly I'll feel this internal battle. In fact, I can be pretty productive, laugh, carry out conversations etc ... and, at the same time, be fighting against these mysterious enemies that are only felt, never seen. Subconsciously I conclude that something is wrong and I have to fix it. Somehow I need to find a quiet place for my soul to rest, free from the tension and threats it feels - which, at best, is temporary relief and, at worst, becomes manipulation. But then I started to filter all this through the lens of 'surrender' and here's what I'm starting to see ...

What if there is a reason for the tension? What if my effort to numb and escape it all is actually keeping me from changing? I mean, the question isn't really whether or not something is wrong. Of course something is wrong, I'm wrong! The question is, how does that get fixed? And do I want to be fixed or do I just want to stop feeling the reality that I'm a mess?

I found myself telling God last night that, "It feels like You're asking me to surrender to the crashing waves when what I want is a quiet stream." (Which is probably true of most of my life) Sitting by an ocean and having waves wash hard over me continually is not nearly as appealing to me as sitting by a still, quiet stream, gently dipping my feet in. It's not that I think I have the power to tell the waves to leave me alone, but I do see how this is an invitation to surrender. I can spend my time trying to keep my sand castles standing or I can sit and let the waves wash over me. Kind of like one of those stones you find on a beach that lies there receiving the crashing waves until it's rough edges change into something perfectly smooth.

Surrender to discomfort. Surrender to the unknown. Believing, trusting, that these are His waves - this is His love - that crashes over me.

a year's journey ...

These last few days I've been reflecting on and remembering the journey God has taken me on this last year. As I thought, I started to write. This is what came out ...

This is Christ in me. I could not have imagined this. In my ugliness and resistance He invited me to open myself up to Him. I didn’t understand what that meant nor do I know how it happened. But it did. He filled every crevice I would give Him, leaving me with a continual lust for more. “It is true, you are my witness,” He has told me. And somewhere in the mystery of this journey, I have grown to deeply believe Him; and, yes, even love Him.

Fear has been my enemy. It has kept me captive; locked in from experiencing Him more deeply and richly than I ever had before. Fear has kept me from trusting Him, so I wouldn’t step outside the boat. But He met me in my longing and touched a desire within me that only He knew where to find. The desire overpowered the fear and I found myself walking on water. The experience was thrilling! I relaxed, and began to dance with Him. I’m a clumsy dancer, but got caught up in it anyway. I certainly could have “danced all night,” but that didn’t happen. Instead, He paused in the dance to talk to me. And in the most tender and loving of tones, He said, “Child, I’m going to take you to places you don’t want to go. Follow me.”

What?! I was uncomfortable and confused. I resisted. And yet at the same time I was falling in love. How could I not follow that Voice? He so clearly loved me. So I followed as best I could, walking through the pain it brought. I wasn’t dancing anymore. I was dying. Then He gave me something to drink. It was bitter and I got very close to spitting it out. But His Voice, in that deeply loving tone, responded to my resistance by saying, “Swallow”. I don’t know if I would have swallowed if I didn’t notice that He was drinking it too. After I finally got the first sip down I realized there was a whole cup to be drunk. “Why?” I kept asking. And His voice would say, “Consider the lilies and then you will know. Let go of all you cannot hold on to. Trust Me more fully than you ever have before.”

I would drink for a while, and then stop to argue. How many more sips do I have to take? I began to wonder if He cared, so I asked Him. He answered me, but this time His voice was firm. All He said was, “Call me Master.” In that moment I realized who I was. I was His servant, the one He had chosen. And if the Master says drink, you drink! So that’s what I continued to do.  As I did, I noticed something was changing in me. I began to see how I was something like a glass container that was layered in filth. This bitter tasting drink was cleaning the ugliness away. I was becoming transparent.  His purity was exposing itself through this vessel. It was beautiful. Not that I personally felt beautiful, rather the beauty was the beam of light within me that had found a way out. Overwhelmed, I got up and started to dance again.

I got caught up in this dance and didn’t realize we were moving again until I suddenly found myself in the middle of a busy and crowded place. People and activity were everywhere. I could barely hear His voice, if I was hearing it at all. I was distracted to say the least. I don’t know why, but I was instantly aware of everyone around me. I cared about what this crowd thought of me. I longed to worship Him and proclaim Him, but fear was taking over again. How will that be interpreted? I noticed that some were offended and others skeptical of what I had to say. I knew I needed to hide and I began to look for a place to do that. Instead, I saw Him and He saw me. He approached me, took my face in His hands and said, “Do not hide. Do not be silent. Pour yourself out for Me. Worship Me publicly in this place. I will defend you, so do not fear the crowd. Listen to My voice, for you know what it sounds like. Do what I’m asking you to do. This is for my glory.”

Something overcame me in that exchange, fear had no chance at all. Right there, in public, I fell to His feet and poured out my treasure. A fragrant perfume. He received it. I lost all awareness of the crowd, rather, all I could think was, “Why would He receive this from a prostitute?” For that is exactly who I knew myself to be.

At His feet, I’m in awe of what I’ve seen. And often, as I marvel at it all, I wonder if my heart has grown full of pride by it. I asked Him about that too. And He said, “You can only serve one master.” I can use this to try to please the crowd or to worship the Master. But I cannot be the servant of the crowd and the servant of the Master at the same time.

And so, I find myself echoing Paul's words in Galatians, "For am I now seeking approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ. For I would have you know, brothers, that the gospel that was preached by me is not man's gospel. For I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ."

take this bread, drink this wine

Speaking for myself, transitions are extremely distracting times. I get this strange sensation that I'm floating. In the midst of trying to focus on what needs my attention, I'm also trying to find a place to plant my feet. But the reality of transition is that it is a move to a new normal, and a new normal is never quickly found - atleast that's been my experience.

Perhaps that's why I'm feeling especially grateful at the moment. Because, despite my scattered and unorganized thoughts, my Savior still knows how to get my attention. I don't have to have it all together for Him to communicate with me. In fact, He has somehow mysteriously used the 'floating' to deepen His message all the more. Here's what I'm hearing ...

There is an undeniable theme of 'surrender' going on in my life right now. It started awhile ago but was reinforced this summer as I journeyed down the road of 'support raising'. With the intention of questioning God about what I was doing wrong (and subtly accuse Him of not taking care of me), I first paused to ask what Name of His I should use in this conversation. In 3 words, He answered both of those questions. He responded, "Call me Master." Conviction fell on me like a heavy weight. There was no denying that my heart was far from approaching God humbly as His servant, desiring only to do the will of my Master.

My 'Master' has been faithful to address this through just about everything, but there is one moment that has been so powerful for me, it's been hard to move past it. God led me to the Garden of Gethsemane (Matt. 26:36-46) and planted me there as an observer. I 'watched' the scene as I read it. I still haven't been able to find words to express what I felt. Overwhelmed? Silenced? Broken? Grateful? Those words don't feel deep enough. I found myself realizing that I was 'watching' the greatest expression of surrender this world will ever know. (Interestingly, the only people who could have physically witnessed it were sleeping!) Alone in the garden, abandoned by friends, Christ voices these words, "My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done."

As we know, but should still be mentioned: when Christ says 'this', He's referring to bearing the weight for every sin ever committed (past, present and future) which takes Him innocently to the place of death. And this is where it began to get personal. I talk to God all the time about 'this' and 'that'. And when I do, I'm most definitely asking for 'this' to pass away. Just like Jesus did. But, my 'this' holds no comparison to Christ's, and yet how often (if ever) have I said with absolute sincerity, "I'll drink, if it's Your will."

If you've spent anytime talking to me these last couple weeks, you probably already know that I'm obsessed with a new song right now ("Beyond the Blue" by Josh Garrels).  The lyrics keep stopping me in thought. One of the lines repeated in the song says "And let go, of all we cannot hold onto for the hope, beyond, the blue." Then tucked away in the middle of a verse is the phrase, "So take this bread, and drink this wine."

Let go. Surrender. Take this. Drink. These words keep calling out to me. I mean, they aren't just 'food for thought', they demand a living out. As I picture Christ in Gethsemane, the idea of following Him is taking on a whole new meaning, a deeper one. Christ surrendered to His Father, the Author of our story. Slowly, I'm longing to do the same.

morning's invitation

One thing I've noticed about my journey with Christ is that nothing is ever random even though I spend most of my time feeling like it is. That moment always seems to eventually come when all the little 'messages' come together and 'I get it'. That happened today ...

I've had a lot on my mind and even more on my heart this summer. About a week ago I felt a 'tug' to give something up and replace it with prayer over these things. (Not sharing that to sound 'spiritual', this is just the beginning of the story). Not really sure why or how I decided this, but I found myself giving up coffee. Such a small thing to go without that I feel kinda stupid admitting it. But it's what I did and was quickly surprised by how hard it was. I was hooked on the stuff. Not the 'drug', but rather the idea of it. You see, I love, and I mean love, mornings. My cup of coffee adds an extra degree to the 'pleasure' factor of the early hours. The smell, the warmth, the freshness added to the newness of morning with my journal in hand: it's a good moment. But sitting in the morning without my coffee killed the 'mood' for me. Recognizing this forced me to ask the question, what am I really looking for in the morning? A pleasurable, still moment or an encounter with my Savior? I think both, but it was alarming to discover how much of a 'pleasure junkie' I'd become.

Later in the week a friend of mine shared how it was standing out to her that God is an invitational God. Those words lingered in my head and touched something inside me. Last night I struggled to fall asleep and with my friend's words in mind, began sensing His invitation. It felt like God was saying, "Join me in the morning. Don't come with anything. No requests, no burdens. Don't ask me for a cup of coffee. Just come and be with me. Gaze upon me. I have something to show you."

So I got up today excited at this 'invitation' and found myself spending the morning thinking about 'morning'. I found some verses that talked about the morning, the first one being "and there was evening and there was morning the first day." Suddenly I found it fascinating that morning was one of the first things God created. If God reveals Himself in His creation (and He does), then what does the morning communicate about God? One thing that jumped out at me about mornings is that they always come and are completely untouchable by the things of this world. It doesn't matter what suffering is taking place, what the set-backs in life are, what natural disasters have happened, what the events in the night were, or even the sin in my heart. There is absolutely nothing in the natural world (man or nature) that can stop morning from coming. So how meaningful then are the words in Lamentations that say, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning." In other words, God's love is the morning. It's steadfast. It can't be touched. Nothing can change it. Nothing. It exists completely outside the realm of things we like to think we 'control'. His love never fails.

As I continued to 'hunt' the morning, I realized that others already discovered what I found and expressed it in the Psalms: "O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice, in the morning I prepare a sacrifice (an empty cup of coffee) for You and watch." -Ps. 5:3 ... "Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days." -Ps. 90:1

I've had moments before where I've heard God say, "I love you", but through the creation of morning I hear, "I really love you and nothing can ever touch that. Be satisfied."

So tomorrow morning- pause,  feel it, and be satisfied. He really loves you :)

calling, strength, and a heart

The other day I found myself reading about David: a man after God's own heart. It was challenging me to consider why he was called that despite the fact that his life was a messy one. The more I started to think about the truth of that, the more curious I've become about who this man really was. Especially as I find myself realizing his experience is strangely familiar to the things in this life that I experience, struggle with, and long for. Here's what's been sinking in ...

We meet David as this young kid. We learn he's the youngest in his family and spends his days mostly alone out in the field watching sheep. He's pretty much invisible to the world, even his father doesn't consider including him when he presents his sons to Samuel. But I don't think David felt alone out in those fields. My guess is that he loved his time there because somewhere along the way He discovered the mystery of being in an intimate, conversational relationship with God. I think he pondered and marvelled and wondered at who God is. And I think He interacted with God, I think David felt God's nearness. So although not very many people were aware of this boy, God was. In fact, God was singling him out and uses Samuel to do it. Suddenly this little shepherd boy is called from the fields and annointed king. That's pretty crazy! But here's what I can't get over: the next thing he does is go back to the fields ... Why in the world would God call David to be king then? Why not wait until Saul is dead? How did David live with the knowledge of a calling that he couldn't live out? In fact, instead of becoming king, he's brought in to serve the king. That's so backwards. I mean, David didn't get to know the end of the story like we do. Was he ever left so confused? Knowing that God called him, but left with only the memory of Samuel's oil to confirm it.

About this point in my train of thought I had the words 'strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord' run through my head. Then it fell on me ... David was strong. Not just physically (although killing those wild animals is pretty impressive), but he was strong in belief. He was the only man who possessed the confidence to confront Goliath. And because of that, a small sheep boy with a little stone unhesitantly stood up in the name of his God, killing a giant man of war. But the reality in the midst of that story is that David is still waiting. He's not king, he's still just a boy with a harp and sling. And now he's also the one who killed the giant. I have a feeling that he's starting to get a reputation for his 'strength', the kind that no one else can seemingly match. Probably one of the reasons Saul's affections for David took such a dramatic turn. Which enters David into the next 'waiting' season of his life. Although this time he's become the target, spending his days running for his life.

So here's a conclusion I'm coming to ... It's not the end (the fullfillment of what God has promised) that strengthens our belief. I think it's the years in the field where no one knows we exist, the place where we discover a deeply personal God and where we find ourselves intimately interacting with Him, that changes us. It's this place that leads us to the day where we hear God's calling over our life. And I think it's the waiting that strengthens one's belief in a God who is and will always be faithful to accomplish His perfect will.

After an intense journey, David does become king. A 'messy' one at that. And God loves him and pursues him through all his 'waywardness'. In the end? King David is known as being a man after God's own heart. Perhaps that's the very thing God is inviting us, right now, to be?

noticing

I've been hit once again by another season of change here in Hungary. Things happen so quickly at the end of the school year. It feels like I'm on a ride that is spinning rapidly; too dizzy to process the fact that people are flying off. When it finally stops, the absence of what became 'normal' is suddenly felt. The silence feels so empty and keeps whispering, "things can never be like they were." And all the things that this past year held for me seem to only compound it. It's been an intense year to say the least.

I've noticed that one of my tendancies during times of change is to fight for some sort of control. The combination of a million details to think through along with the new normal dissolving away, leaves me longing to grasp onto something ... anything.

Yet, despite my far from stable mental state and a little to my surprise, God has been breaking in. One of these moments happened a few days ago while I was in the city. My mom and grandma were visiting and wanted to peak into a church that we were by. As we walked closer, we passed a homeless man sitting on the steps outside the church. Inside a service was going on. He must have been waiting for it to let out in hopes to collect some money from the people inside. I've seen a lot of homeless people here in Budapest, but this man triggered something in me that still lingers. He sat there next to a baseball hat that was turned upside down with some coins in it. He didn't talk to us or bow in a 'begging' position when we walked by. He didn't appear to be affected by drugs or alcohol. He just peacefully sat there. And although I only saw him out of the corner of my eye, when I walked past him I felt this strong tug pull within me. I instantly became aware of him and compassion seemed to wash over me. After walking past him, I did what I rarely do; I stopped, grabbed some change, turned around, and walked back up to him. I said hello and he responded with something that I couldn't understand, yet the tone of his voice was kind. I left wishing I had given more.

I haven't been able to get this man out of my head. As I've thought about him, I've had Matthew 25:40 run through my head: "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." I felt God's presence during that encounter. He was near and He was making me aware of it. And the more I think about that, the more I'm wondering how often I miss Him? How many times do I walk straight into the church to meet with Jesus, and neglect to notice that He was sitting on the steps? It's making me ask myself, where do I go looking for Jesus? and where have I walked right past Him?

I believe, strongly, that God is communicating with us. He's breaking into our fragile minds and lives, drawing us to Himself, and inviting us to be transformed in His presence. I don't want to miss it!

like a lion

Several days ago I dove into the book of Hosea and I can't seem to stop swimming in it. I'm pretty confident that it will remain my favorite book throughout my lifetime. It has become so deeply personal that it's impossible for me to read it without entering and feeling the story.

One of the things I've been noticing is the range of emotions God expresses over Israel. He goes from anger, rejection, punishment, and destruction to compassion, pursuit, longing, tenderness, and forgiveness. The more I observe these things, the more I'm stunned by how passionate His love is. He is all about the relationship. A perfect, pure, faithful, covenantal, single-focused relationship. Anything that threatens that arouses His anger. He fights for the purity of His bride. But anger is not who He is - rather the anger comes out of His love. It's because He loves so intensely that He reacts to 'waywardness' with such hatred.

The imagery used to describe these things is incredible and it's what has motivated me to write about it. Hosea 11:10 says, "He will roar like a lion. When He roars His children will come trembling from the west." Have you ever seen a lion roar? I mean, you've atleast seen the MGM trademark (although that's pretty tame for what I'm picturing). What I picture is a huge, strong lion with a full mane resting peacefully while people move around near him. Then suddenly the lion is threatened and he leaps up and lets out a long, ear-shattering roar. The roar stops everyone in their tracks. All but the roaring lion are totally frozen. And then the people begin to shake - they tremble at the sudden awareness of who is in their midst. Then fear fills them. What is going to happen? Will we be destroyed? Where did he come from? What is not realized is that this angry roar is rooted in a deeply perfect love - directed at the very ones who are trembling. This lion is doing what it takes to get their attention and invite them into his loving protection. Some ears hear the love within the roar and come trembling to him, others never do ...

In chapel today we sang 'Hosanna' by Hillsong. With this image in my head, these lyrics felt especially powerful ...
"I see the King of glory
Coming on the clouds with fire
The whole earth shakes, the whole earth shakes
I see His love and mercy
Washing over all our sin
The people sing, The people sing"

And how appropriate is this response ...
"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"

lost

I read something this morning that described 'lost' as a thing that is not where it was meant to be. I think the opposite of this must also be true; meaning that this 'thing' is both missing from where it was purposed to belong and present where it was not.

This has got me thinking ... I was one of those "Linus" kids - dragged my blanket around everywhere I went. Not just any blanket, but that very special one that was loved so much it felt like it was alive. I hope that's normal?? Anyway, I actually had two of these blankets, because the first one was lost. I remember where we were when we noticed it was missing. I remember my parents helping me look everywhere. I remember crying a lot. We never did find it. In fact, after giving up, I remember my mom taking out another blanket and explaining to me how special this new one was. Eventually my heart was able to make the transfer and all was well again.

What I read this morning along with that flashback to my childhood has helped me understand the idea of being 'lost' in a new way. I've referred to those who are not 'believers' as 'the lost' many times. But it's never really registered for me what they are lost from; at least not to the degree that it hit this morning. To be lost means you are not where you were intended to be. So, applying that to people, the 'lost' are not where God intended them to be. Which means, man was created - every single one of us- with the intention of being where we belong. And we were intended to be worshipers of God, belonging to Him. Now I know I was just a kid and it was just a blanket, but let me tell you - I grieved the loss of that thing! As ridiculous as this sounds, it felt like a piece of me was missing. That blanket and I 'belonged' to each other. That might not be the best example, but recalling my emotion made me consider what God must feel when it comes to what He has lost. Think of all the people alive right now and all those who have died who are/were lost. That's a lot of blankets. Does God grieve deeply over every last one of them? I think He must, because Jesus shared a lot of parables that had to do with searching for something that was lost. And He also included the emotion felt by the one who found the treasured belonging.

I've lived with an awareness that I belong to God; that I'm redeemed, adopted, and His dearly loved child. But it's never really crossed my mind before that this is what I was intended to be. It wasn't just out of His compassion and grace that He hunted me down; He hunts because we were meant to be His. Because we are His lost treasure. It's why living in the world and all that it offers never satisfies - because He made us to only be satisfied in Him. This means I was created with intentionality and purpose. But I was born lost, knowing neither intention nor purpose, consumed in the darkness of my own sin. It's why when He makes us His own, when He restores us to what we were meant for, when He finds us and saves us that He demands it all. Because all of us, not part of us, was made for Him.

So taking this further, I've thought about how I belong to this family. Through Christ's mind-blowing sacrifice of Himself, I am now restored. I'm found. I'm where I belong (and yet dually waiting for final restoration) ... But treasure is still missing. Spending time with Him and being near Him has somehow caused me to realize that He's still "searching" for what was His. It makes my heart ache. I want desperately for the lost to be found - cuz suddenly I feel that loss too. These individuals, the people I pass on the street or interact with at the store, they were meant to be my family! Something about that is just so compelling ...

"For the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost." -Luke 19:10

swallow hard

I'm coming out of a pretty intense week where I witnessed people spending several days focused and intentional on seeking after God. And when several people do that together, it's not all that surprising that God reveals Himself in some big ways. In fact, it quickly becomes obvious that He is the One doing the pursuing; chasing hard after each individual.

I had a little agenda that I brought into the week, but I was far more aware of the fact that I had no idea what I was walking into. I was excited but also 'cautiously' curious at what God was going to bring up - especially considering that sin was the focus of the materials I'm in.

I'm not going to write out all that I processed this last week (we'll have to do coffee if you want the whole story); instead I'm gonna focus on where these things have taken me - because I'm stuck there. I went on a pretty raw journey that took me to the cross. And after spending some time there it occurred to me that in order to receive the nourishment needed for life, one has to drink of His suffering. It wasn't until later that day when we were taking communion that I heard Him say to me: "swallow." Instantly, without thinking, I responded, "but it doesn't taste good."

Swallow? What does that even look like? And why am I so caught off guard by it and the way it tastes? I mean, what was I expecting it to taste like? I guess what I'm getting at is that the cost of discipleship is hitting me a little hard.

I went to the story of Christ's crucifixion in John and kept reading till I hit the end where Jesus talks to Peter. These words of Jesus to Peter haunt me, "...and lead you where you don't want to go. Follow me!" What?! Am I reading that right? Is Christ really saying, "Look, Peter, if you follow me I'm going to take you where you don't want to go, so follow me."? And that's exactly what Peter did. He followed Christ right up to his own crucifixion.

Don't get me wrong, I want to swallow. I want to swallow hard. But I'm realizing that this is no small thing. Somewhere along the way I subconsciously began to think I'm entitled to an easy ride. The tension free life is just a few gentle words, some sacrificial acts of love, and a handful of fervent prayers away. But what if following Him means things not only stay hard, but they get harder? What if I'm led to those places that I don't want to go? And if I'm not willing to go there, then why am I following in the first place?

The Christian life can't be about using God. It's not about His benefits ... It's about Him! Peter wasn't following a path that would lead to what He wanted; He was following a person in whom was life.

So right now I'm asking myself: Am I following this person? When I recognize His voice, will I swallow what He gives me, even if it tastes bitter? Will I follow Him directly into the places He takes me, even if I don't want to go? Will I get over myself long enough to embrace my relationship with Him because I love Him, not to use Him? ... But then, really, is there any other choice?

Such extravagant love, that He would invite me to drink from His cup.

quietness, rest, and sin

I've had several "I could blog about this" moments recently, but never the energy to actually write anything. I've been tired- mentally, physically, emotionally, and even spiritually. I've been somewhat aware of this, but the need to keep going didn't leave me much time to realize it. Sometimes you just don't know you're thirsty until you start to drink. And sometimes you don't stop to drink until God puts a glass in your hand and tells you to.
This is what happened to me. In the middle of the middle school movie night (in which I was half-dead), I got a phone call asking if I could do some emergency dog-sitting the next day. Now this isn't typically something I jump at the opportunity to do, but staying alone in this particular house held quite an appeal. This home has become somewhat of a 'haven' for me. A place I've regularly gone to empty and always left full. I've often spent the night here and every time have slept deeply and woken rested -and for someone who is plagued with 'unexplained sleeplessness', this is a miracle. Really.
I'm on my 3rd and final day of this suprise 'retreat'. So now that I'm 'rested' enough to write, I've decided to do just that. I've thought some over the many things that have gone through my head these past few weeks. Things having to do with what it really means to be 'still and know that He is God', seeing the goodness of the Lord in the land of living, and most recently- foolishness vs. wisdom. And although I could talk awhile on each of those things, they aren't what's consuming my thoughts.
This weekend I started the next portion of the material I've been going through. It's focus: sin. So what has been consuming my thoughts so far is two things: 1) I'm a worm and 2) My God is greater still. As Isaac Newton said, "I know two things: I am a very great sinner and Christ is a very great Savior." I read this in the intro to this material: "If we are not aware of our sin, if we are not learning to practice the spiritual pathways to overcoming sin, then the sanctification process is aborted and we remain immature and at the mercy of our sin." I mean, wow. Go re-read that.
My feet are just getting wet right now, not enough to say too much about it all. And actually, as I go deeper, probably not the sort of thing I will publicly say much about. Sin is a dark place, and one cannot see it for what it is quickly or casually. Nor do I anticipate being able to easily articulate what it is He reveals to me. So I'll leave that topic for now.
As a final thought, if you're still reading, I'm going to put a little plug out there to encourage these little "retreats" with God. Stop and drink! For the sake of all that God is doing in your life- stop, rest, listen to Him. Take a day, a week, a month, a year ... whatever it takes, to seek Him with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind. And if that's impossible and your circumstances have bound you in (which is legit in many cases), then seek Him through that suffering. Remember: "God did this so that they would seek Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us." -Acts 17:27

dependence

I don't know how God speaks to everyone, but its often my experience that I learn what He is teaching me through themes. The big over-arching theme for me right now is 'trust', but recently that has narrowed in on the idea of dependence. It's been coming up way too many times to ignore and has led my heart into times of repentence. Repentence is always good affirmation that it's really God I'm hearing, so in confidence of that, here is what has sunk in so far:

This theme began to emerge through times of prayer. When lent started, there were several things weighing on my heart. I wrote them all out and have committed to praying for them daily through the lent season. As I've done this, I've noticed the intensity of my asking has increased. With every day that goes by, I have grown to realize more deeply that my ability to change or figure out the answers for any of these things is completely futile. I can't do a thing. I can't even act wisely in the simplest of things without receiving that wisdom from Him. So I have found myself saying more than any other phrase, "Only You can do this." I'm totally dependent.

Then I started reading through the story of Moses in Exodus. I've been completely drawn in. One of the things I keep coming back to is that when you know the whole story, what God is doing is so beyond anything deserved. He is not only redeeming the Israelites from their suffering; He is showing them, through their suffering, who He is. He's proclaiming that He is 'I Am' and He desires to be known in all His greatness. Then I'll suddenly remember that this is the same God who I just spoke to. And He hasn't changed! He is doing the same thing. Orchestrating everything so that we might know Him - the One who is mighty to save. Not just believe in Him, but know Him! That's a precious gift. And one of the things we learn about Him is that He is the sustainer and provider of absolutely every single aspect of who we are. I found this quote from J.A. Thompson's commentary speaking about the Israelites, "Nothing was possible without Him, and even to eat they had to await His pleasure." That level of dependence is not easily learned, but it is the level that I long to know it.

Then in church today we were reminded that suffering develops dependence on God. Indeed. I really don't like suffering and struggle much in watching others go through it. But the treasure that is produced is so attractive to me that, in comparison, suffering feels like a small price to pay.

So I've been putting all these things together and examining my life in light of them. What have I come to? Sorrow mostly. I know so little of this dependence. I feel like a foolish Israelite who continues to trudge along with little thought to the pillar of cloud that is leading me and what His purposes for each moment are. Rather, I catch myself getting hard on myself. Trying to be who I'm not. Trying to change myself by myself. Yet, in His grace, compassion, and patience, He keeps telling me, "You can do nothing. I can do everything. My power will be made perfect in your weakness. Trust Me." Truth has spoken those words. I believe them.

"In repentence and rest is your salvation. In quietness and trust is your strength." -Is. 30:15

open

"Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." -Psalm 139:23-24

I think it would be hard for anyone to deny that the Psalms are beautiful, but I gotta say that there are times where my appreciation for them intensifies. I find my life experience in them. There are moments where I think, "Oh, David, I am so right there with you!" Today I had one of those moments.

I identify with Mary (mother of Jesus) when scripture says she "pondered these things in her heart." When God gets our attention, a sense of wonder is produced. His works are something to marvel at. So, I've been pondering things in my heart. The last couple days I've re-read my journal entries starting from a year ago until now. It's been a great read. I'm definitely different. I know Jesus differently. I know Him more personally. I encounter Him tangibly. And He's near! Near to the point where I get why one would say "You are the air I breathe."

What I've been wondering is what made the difference? My walk with God before this 'change' was definitely legit and real - yet I've found myself in much deeper waters, experiencing a Savior who, like David, I marvel at and long for. There's no doubt that the retreat I went on earlier this year triggered this, but why? Why did I come out of that so changed? This is where I started thinking about openness. I remember being encouraged at the begining of the retreat to open myself up to God. And in one sense, it's a no brainer. Duh! But I felt the risk involved in that. I really wrestled with it. I felt vulnerable and wondered if I was opening myself up to more than God. I wanted to be sheltered, I was scared of what I would experience, scared that I would experience more of my own foolishness than God Himself. But I took the risk and, admitting my fear to Him, I opened myself up. Wow did He ever come in.

As He has moved around ever since then, I've been experiencing freedom. He's moving into spaces that I didn't even know were closed. Rooms that I don't like being in. Sore spots. And as He speaks truth to me in each of these rooms, my trust in Him deepens. It's such a healing experience in which I often join David in saying, "Search me and know my heart. Test me. Know my anxiousness. Find the offenses in me. Lead me to You!"

It's hard to articulate, but the way I imagine this change to look like is a turning of my face toward Him. I feel the posture of my heart not only open, but also turned in His direction. Begging to be exposed by the light of His face.

I'm learning. My eyes are being opened, but I know that I have much to see. In fact, the more I begin to 'get it', the bigger it all becomes. Yet, I'm convinced that this is it. This is what it means to be in relationship with Jesus. It's something to be experienced, something that leaves us changed - deeply and miraculously changed. Something completely worthy of opening myself wholly to. A priceless treasure worth absolutely every part of me.

timid

I've found myself stuck in the book of 2 Timothy this week. The whole letter not only leaves me encouraged, but it's also produced a growing curiousity into who Timothy was. A few years ago, a verse describing Timothy in Philippians spoke to me and it came to my mind as I was reading this book. Paul said about Timothy (in Phil. 2:20-22), "I have no one else like him, who will show genuine concern for your welfare. For everyone looks out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. But you know that Timothy has proved himself .." I find that very attractive.

So in this book, Paul is writing to Timothy rather than talking about him. And what I'm so drawn into is that almost immediately in this letter he says, "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline."

I think I'm timid. But I say that without claiming to understand what exactly timidity is. What's the difference between being timid and "the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit"(I Peter 3:4)? I'm wondering if by wanting the latter I've somehow put on the former. Then I think about Timothy. He was known for his sincere faith and came from a family that lived out this same faith (vs. 5). But Paul must have known something about him. Why else would he point out that timidity does not come from God? Why the reminder to fan his gifts into flame?

I mean, here's Timothy. The great apostle Paul says there is no one like him. He's grown up under faithful servants of God. Paul has laid his hands on him and he possesses gifts. It's not really a formula for insecurity, or is it? It's just that I can totally relate! There are days where 'insecurity' should be my middle name. Intimidated by my day before I even enter it. Afraid of upsetting things. Afraid of imposing on others. Afraid of being seen as arrogant or prideful. Afraid of the damage my flesh could do. Afraid of hurting someone or the worst ever, disappointing them. Fear. Fear. Fear.

As I typed that last 'Fear', it hit me that in some versions the word 'timid' is translated as 'fear'. No wonder I relate :) So how does one respond to all this? I wonder what went through Timothy's mind when he read those words. I wonder what his gifts were. What was he afraid of? What held him back? How did he respond?

I've grown too aware of the 'bigness' of God to not respond with a growing sense of boldness. Paul reminded Timothy that the Spirit of God gives us power, love, and self-discipline. He told him to fan those gifts of his into flame. It's like he's saying, "Don't forget who God is because who you are (or aren't) matters nothing in light of that. You possess Him, and therefore have nothing to fear. So be confident and embrace Him. Embrace those gifts." It's all about who God is, and that is why I find this book so encouraging.

As a bonus thought, when I re-read this verse, I keep stopping on the word 'power'. Not really sure why, but something in me attaches prayer to that word. I've had my thinking shifted to see prayer as the most powerful gift we have from God. So often I have entered prayer 'timidly', with a fear of offending God and a shyness in my requests (being careful that I not set Him up to fail me). But to enter prayer believing deeply in it's power - that changes things completely. One cannot be convinced of the power of prayer without being convinced of the One who is Power. Prayer is a bold proclamation of one's belief in God. And when in prayer I proclaim my belief in Him, shout praises, express gratitude, grieve over my sin and in dependence plead my desires, I feel His power. I think His Spirit of Prayer is pretty synonymous with a Spirit of Power. Or they atleast work so closely together that it's hard to distinguish one from the other.

So I'll end this by saying that I intend to continue to "reflect on what (Paul) is saying, for the Lord will give insight into all this." (2 Tim. 2:7)

blessing

I recently talked to someone about brokenness. The conversation reminded me of a passage I’ve turned to several times in my life when experiencing this. Here it is:

“Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
   but he will heal us;
he has injured us
   but he will bind up our wounds.
 After two days he will revive us;
   on the third day he will restore us,
   that we may live in his presence.
-Hosea 6:1-2

When I found this several years ago, I remember being wowed. It described brokenness so well. One of the conclusions I always come to when experiencing brokenness is the fact that it comes from God. Every single experience in this life filters through the hand of God. That thought makes God seem tough, yet every time I’ve experienced brokenness, I always find myself in the arms of a tender Savior where healing is experienced deeper than the wound was inflicted. He becomes all satisfying. He tears and then He heals. He injures and then He binds up the wounds. He revives and restores. And in the end I find myself alive in His presence.

This all ties into my “thought for the day”. Besides this conversation I referred to, I also heard some really good news this week. The kind of news that makes me excited. I think one of the reasons I was so excited is that this news came after a season of waiting and probably brokenness. This got me thinking about God’s blessings. I wonder if I would have been as excited had I not known about the wait that preceded this news. I began to think how the wait or the season of brokenness does something to us. It gives us an avenue to experience dependence on our Savior and therefore we encounter Him. We leave seasons of brokenness knowing personally the One who healed us. So that led to this thought: Blessing is so much more richly enjoyed when we know the One who bestows it.

Sometimes I get stuck in the fact that God brings difficulties to refine us and never enter into the overwhelming reality that He also blesses us. Yes, He’s in the business of making us holy. And within that He is also in the business of expressing His love. God is pleased when we turn our face to Him, when we acknowledge Him, and desire Him. It pleases Him to bring us closer to holiness, it pleases Him to reveal Himself to us so that we might know Him, and it pleases Him to bless us. I’ve been humbled by the blessing that I heard about. Humbled that God would turn His face, hear the calling out, and choose to graciously grant desires in order to bless His children. Awesome!

a prayer for sew

This week at ICSB is Spiritual Emphasis Week (SEW). It's a pretty anticipated week where a special speaker comes in and we have chapel every day. I've been joining the middle school chapels. The past couple days, as I sat toward the back watching the students worship and listen, I couldn't help but wonder what's going on in their minds. What sort of things are these kids bringing to this time? What consumes their world? Furthermore, I thought about the fact that we were all brought into this room intentionally. So why am I here? What in the world am I doing in Hungary sitting through a middle school spiritual emphasis week? I'm pretty sure I'm never going to know the full extent of those answers, but I also think I miss catching on to what God is communicating when I begin to go through the motions of life.

So in light of all that, I began praying during one of the worship times. Or at least, trying to pray. I feel a little 'out of tune' right now; my prayer was really just asking for direction in how to pray. Asking that I would see what He desires me to bring before Him. As I was praying this, I was also hearing the students singing "And Your bride will be so beautiful". It was in that moment that two things came in my mind. Two things to pray for ...

The first thing that came to mind was a picture of Christ making His bride beautiful. I love that image. It doesn't take much at all for me to feel ugly. My flesh is definitely an ugly place. But Christ makes us beautiful. Have you ever met those people that overflow with genuine joy? Their eyes sparkle. They smile a lot. They love on people. That's the kind of beauty I picture. The majority of these students have made committments to Christ and He has begun a work in their life. My prayer is that this week would deepen that. I desire for these students to see that their Savior is making them beautiful. He's getting His bride dressed, perfecting her, adorning her, making her breathtaking.

I also thought about this idea of marriage and the covenant relationship that it represents. There are several students in this school who haven't received this relationship. Some may not understand it. Or worse, there are probably those students who think they have it because they know so much about it, but know nothing of the transforming experience of being in a relationship with Christ. So I'm praying also that covenant commitments would be made. That as the bride of Christ begins to radiate in beauty, those who are not part of it would be drawn in. That the attraction of Christ would be irresistible.

The week isn't over and I'm writing this on here simply to ask you all to pray with me. I so deeply desire for people to know Christ, personally and intimately. Right now that desire is focused in on the individuals in this school. So ... we value your prayers!

shimmer

Yesterday was Friday. There's just something about that day that seems to give everyone an extra bit of energy. The highlight of my school day is 3rd period when I get 3 of my students at the same time. This class is particularly exciting on Fridays. If you could channel the energy in my room I think it might be enough to light up the whole city of Budapest. I love it. Yesterday did not disappoint. Friday excitement mixed with the "charades" type activity I had them doing was a lot of stimulation. At one point I found myself saying, "Ahhh! Guys, Simmer!!" Instead of conviction leading to quieter and calmer students, I was met with an uproar of laughter. (This wasn't too surprising, I'm told on a regular basis by this class that I'm a 'hilarious' person. Best part is, I don't even have to try.) I soon discovered that what was so funny was the word 'simmer', except that's not what they heard. My students heard the word 'shimmer'. For the rest of class I continued to hear, "Shimmer! hahaha Shimmer! gigglegiggle Everybody shimmer!"

This morning I found myself once again seeking to hear what God was saying to me. Through a rabbit trail of thoughts, I was led to the word 'wait'. This took me to Psalm 40:1 "I waited patiently for the Lord. He turned to me and heard my cry." I'm a little caught up in the phrase 'waited patiently'. I've been thinking how it's synonym could be 'simmer'. Sometimes life gets me uptight. So much could go wrong at any minute. So much is unresolved. So much coming at me. So many demands. My spirit resists tension, yet is never fully relieved from it's presence. At the same time, I have this growing attraction toward experiencing life. To be fully alive! I've always known that Christ offers me life, but how well do I live it? The growing knowledge of all that is wrong, the masses that are hurting, and the things needing to get done leaves me feeling as though fullness in living can't really be reached. What an awful thing to believe.

I love it that what my students heard me say was 'shimmer' because it so perfectly suites them. All 3 of them love and live life in a way I long to. Does waiting on the Lord mean I spend that time uptight and burdened by it all? Nope, something tells me that to wait patiently means not only to relax ... but also to live! Not in the future, but in the moment. Embracing His power to live in freedom. Shimmer is such a great word to describe this sort of living. It's attractive, captivating, appealing. It's drawing me in.

So where do I go wrong? What do I believe? If our Father calls us to life, do I really believe I can experience it? Do I believe that life in Christ trumps all the things that seek to pull me down? Is my belief a head knowledge, or the result of an encounter with a fully alive Savior?

Sometimes I find myself marveling at the relationship offered me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with the King of Kings! He's real. He really talks to me. His hand is literally on my life. It's all too big for me to wrap my mind around. But it's true. I believe and desperately desire Him to help me with my unbelief. Jesus really is enough. Enough power to overcome every obstacle. Enough joy to last every moment. Enough love to fulfill my deepest longings. Enough wisdom to orchestrate my days. Enough life to make me fully alive. More than enough!

I don't really have a conclusion to any of these thoughts. But that doesn't concern me too much. I don't know that they are the sort of thing needing to be 'concluded', rather they just need some living out. And, in His grace, this living out will change me - leaving me all the more alive.

lonely

It's been my experience that if you listen long enough, themes begin to emerge. It just hit me last week that right now the idea of 'loneliness' is one of them. I was writing a letter to a friend and found myself rambling about it. After I finished the letter my thoughts continued on the subject. So now that I'm a blogger and all, I thought this would be an appropriate place to express some of those thoughts.

What has drawn me to think deeper about loneliness is the realization that I've been hearing a lot of people express this feeling. Past conversations began popping up in my head, all sharing that loneliness was felt on a regular basis. I live in a very small, close-knit, missionary community, yet the truth is, most of those comments have been made within it. Furthermore, I feel pretty confident saying that those who haven't admitted such feelings to me would if I asked them. I can't personally deny them. I'm often lonely - longing for ... longing for ... what are we longing for??

It's my observation that many solutions are thrown out there when addressing this struggle. Most have to do with this idea of community. Small groups are formed. Filling social calendars is attempted. Homes are opened. But it doesn't seem to really work. The relief is only momentary. I mean, it's easy to understand why loneliness creeps in when we lack a "connected" social life, but I'm willing to argue that even in a deeply connected world, loneliness will still find you.

I hope I don't sound like I have issues with community because I'm actually a huge fan of it. Bonding is one of my favorite words and that takes community to pull off. All I'm getting at is that I don't think it's the answer. Here's what I found myself writing to my friend:

"It seems that the response is to figure out a way to either change ourselves or our circumstances in order to fix the problem. (I need to be more extroverted, I should get more involved in the community around me etc..) But then in other conversations we talk about how our deepest needs and longing can only be met in Christ. It's our message to the world around us that what they need is Jesus and they won't be satisfied with anything else. But are we, His children, satisfied? Have we experienced the sufficiency of Christ? Or do we still strive to meet our own needs? Frustrated that no matter how many church fellowships we join, we still feel lonely? I'm growing convinced that loneliness (in it's most raw form) is a longing to know Christ. It's our soul crying out to be restored to an authentic relationship with it's Creator. We are certainly called to be in community; God's Word is thick with a call to unity. But I wonder if we approach community as a needed step to get rid of that nagging lonely feeling; rather than entering community satisfied in Jesus - eager to know Him more as He reveals Himself through His body as a whole."

We got one thing right. Loneliness is a longing for relationship. But am I so foolish as to think there is an individual or community out there that can fill that? The problem is just too deep for that solution. In fact, I think it's so deep that only the Creator can touch it. But how cool is that? Our Creator wants us so much that He made us miserable outside of Himself. He gave us reason to long for Him, reason to seek Him, reason to worship Him. And He personally meets our longings, allows us to find Him, and accepts our worship.

Part of me experiences deep satisfaction in my Savior when I think about that and part of me feels trapped in my flesh. I think it's the difference between the act of being restored vs. fully restored. But I have hope. Someday He's coming again. Someday I'll be home. As for now, He is near.

unseen

I've been resisting the bloggin' world. For several reasons I suppose, but close to the top is a feeling that I'm committing to one more thing I will hardly be able to keep up with. Or perhaps it's because this is attempt #2 at keeping a blog. The truth is I don't really know why I've resisted, nor do I know why I'm spending my Sunday afternoon starting one. What changed? Don't know that either. All I know is that this morning I woke up hungry to hear what my Savior was saying and eager to see the unseen. So I sat in my mini "bay window" and paused. Then God began to do what I most deeply long for - He spoke to me. It's these encounters that leave me feeling like I've actually got something to say. Maybe I do.

You might be wondering what exactly He had to say this morning. I hope you are, because that's what the rest of this blog is about. It all began when I read a portion of "My Utmost for His Highest" that a friend directed me to. Talking about Is. 40:26 it said, "If we are children of God, we have a tremendous treasure in nature and will realize that it is holy and sacred. We will see God reaching out to us in every wind that blows, every sunrise and sunset, every cloud in the sky, every flower that blooms, and every leaf that fades, if we will only begin to use our blinded thinking to visualize it."

As I said earlier, I woke up with a longing in my heart. I wanted to see the unseen. I wanted to hear what is not heard. I was longing for an encounter with my Savior. So I sat in my window, stared out, and whispered, "Where are You and what are You saying?" I found myself fixating on an unusual cross standing in a yard across our street. I took a picture so you can see it too:

It was the two beams going across that got my attention. Why two? Maybe you actually know the answer to that and I'm exposing my ignorance here, but I found it unusual. Trying to guess at what God was saying, my first thought was something along the lines that two are certainly unnecessary because Christ needed only to die once. But then I began to think about my place when it comes to the cross. I've always pictured myself at the foot of it. This morning, however, I suddenly found myself on it, beneath Christ. With these images in my mind, I opened by Bible and began to read Romans 6 (no recollection of how I got to that passage). I read through verse 14. It's too long to put in here, so I'll just highlight a few things that stood out to me but add that it's worth the read. Vs. 3 "Or don't you know that all of us were baptized into His death?" Vs. 5 "If we have been united with Him like this in His death, we will certainly also be united with Him in His resurrection." Vs.8 "Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him." Vs. 10 "The death He died, He died to sin once for all; but the life He lives, He lives to God."

I finished reading this passage and thought, "Wow, I really do belong on that cross!" Identify with Christ in His death, in His suffering, and in His resurrection! We die to live. So backwards but rich with truth. It was at the end of the passage that I began to hear what God was saying to me this morning, "offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life ... for sin shall NOT be your master ... you are under grace." By the time I finished reading that God was screaming at me, "Live! My Son died that you would live! You died with Him so that you might live! You are free. Sin is not your master. Get up! Go! Live!"

I see.