the kitchen

I just got back to Hungary after spending Christmas break in the states with the fam. I'll admit that at the moment I'm pretty 'homesick'. This trip home felt good. The time to 'just be' with family hit the spot; I guess I'd been craving it. So as I adjust to the time zone here, my mind is lingering on all the memories that were just made ... and in that lingering, I realized something. I realized that I really love the kitchen (a little random, I know). I think it's where the majority of family bonding takes place. It's central in the chaos. Everyone wanders there consistently ... usually looking for something to stick their fingers in. Converations seem to turn into laughter. And it's the place with the best smells; maybe it's the smells that causes everyone to end up there - it allures. The more 'kitchen' memories that come to mind, the more of a fan I'm becoming. It's gotta the best room in the house.

Anyways, this ramble has a point. Sometimes God takes me places in this journey that I'm on with Him and those places speak into what He's doing in my heart and life. Last night it hit me that I think we're in the kitchen; only I haven't been enjoying myself. The hot topic in my conversations with God right now is 'waiting'. I caught myself telling God that waiting feels wasteful. Did you catch that? I told the God of the universe, who holds all wisdom and all power, that I think He's wasting my time. As soon as I realized this is what my heart was saying, I sat back a little stunned at myself. And that dove me into a series of conversations with my Father about waiting- because it's not a waste and I don't want to live believing that it is.

In these conversations, I began searching for a way to describe what waiting on Him feels like. Eventually I found it. It feels like I'm sitting in the kitchen with an incredible aroma coming from the oven. I'm sitting anxious and eager for my Father (who made this mysterious something for me) to open the oven door and reveal a delicious surprise. But here's all the problems: I don't know what's in the oven, I'm just told it's good. There's no recipe sitting out, He didn't need one - so I can't investigate the ingredients. There's no timer, so I have no way of gauging how much longer I have to wait. I'm hungry and the smell only seems to intensify that. And the longer I sit, the more consumed I get with the waiting; not able to keep my eyes or my mind off the oven. ... The whole scene bothers me. When I think over all the moments I just had in the kitchen with my family, I don't remember feeling impatient for the food to get done. The gift was the fellowship, not the food. So why am I so consumed with what God is going to feed me? Why can't I simply enjoy Him?

You know, the thing about baking is that timing is everything. If you take it out too early, it's not what it was meant to be. Same is true if you leave it in too long. Why is it so hard to believe that waiting on Him is like that? That His timing is perfect?

Today in church we were asked, "Do you treasure Jesus?" I think I do. But sometimes I sit in His kitchen and I forget to enjoy the treasure. The treasure of knowing Him intimately. The treasure of talking with Him, laughing, or sometimes even dancing. The treasure of being in the presence of God and feeling my heart drawn into gratitude and worship.

I'm still pretty confused by waiting. I haven't come up with a 'neat' answer that satisfies the deepening questions I keep asking. But maybe the answers lie in the mystery, the place where my finite mind can't reach. Maybe the answer isn't even the point. Maybe He has me here simply to enjoy Him regardless of all the things I don't know. And maybe the change I'm longing for in my life doesn't come from the oven, maybe it comes from just being with Him in the kitchen.

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 :)