Filled up to Pour out

The living room floor went missing days ago, and I don’t have the energy to go looking for it.

The older two kids have been fighting incessantly for two weeks, and I’ve lost my temper too many times to count.

The friend who left a message three weeks ago is still waiting because I haven’t found time to call back.

The new neighbors moved in a month ago, and I still haven’t walked the daunting 100 yards to shake their hands.

The three year old has been whining since May, and the grating drone is about to make me crazy.

The mom who so desperately wanted to gather her chicks close has flown the coop, and the mom still here is a frustrated, worn out, short-on-time, and even shorter-on-patience mess.

I’ve been striving for perfection, hungry for affirmation, climbing for success, digging for fulfillment, pining for attention, and wrestling for control…and I’ve come up empty.

I pour out into my home, my family, my friends, my ministry, and there just isn’t enough of me to go around. Or maybe that’s not the problem at all…Maybe there’s just way to much of ME all over the place.

Pouring out isn’t a choice, but what I pour out is. It’s what I pour out that matters.

I can pour out The Spirit, or I can pour out my flesh.

And what I pour out depends on what I’m filled up with.

If I’m filled with grace, compassion, and tenderness because I’ve spent time at the foot of the cross and opened my heart to receive these from The Source, then I will pour out grace, compassion, and tenderness.

If I’m filled with jealousy, insecurity, anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness because I have sought the things that will never satisfy, then I will pour out my own judgment, frustration, and impatience.

Filled up with HIM, so I can pour out grace on my husband, my kids, and my little world.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.   Ephesians 3:17-19

For apart from ME, you can do NOTHING! John 15:5

I want to be like a sponge—so saturated with Christ that I drip HIM all over the place.

Overflow of Grace

With cheeks glowing, they bound through knee-high, life-drained weeds. Hearts racing, bodies laboring, laughter bubbling, they traipse on in search of adventure.

Then it hits. They are thirsty. Parched throats demand an answer. The desire cannot be ignored, and so the agenda changes from a quest for adventure to a hunt for fulfillment. The whining erupts, and water must be found. They rush to the pump, pushing each other out of their way in their desperation.

They drink to their hearts content. Smiles returning. Curiosity resurfacing.

Isaiah 41:18
I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys.
I will turn the desert into pools of water, and the parched ground into springs.

We are a thirsty people. Ever searching for what will satisfy, desperate for what will quench our thirst. And so we drink. We drink of the Ever-Present Fountain until our thirst is quenched.

And we keep it to ourselves. While the world craves the smallest drop, we hoard the river of grace, forgiveness, and love.

Matthew 25:43

For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.

How do we get our children to peel their eyes off themselves and onto a world in need?

It begins with us.

But how do I wrench my eyes off myself and onto a world so desperate for a drink? Why do I demand a waterfall of grace from others and yet find it so difficult to offer it back? Why do I think that my day to day difficulties are anything compared to a world of hunger, heart-ache, and hopelessness?

For months now I’ve been wrestling with God. He simply asks me to offer a drink to a thirsty world--to live outside the promises of this deafening culture. My ears are saturated with its lies. And yet I listen to them again and again. My eyes are blinded by the brilliance of the mirages all around me. I want my family to live outside the promises of our culture, but it is so easy to slink back to my dreams of comfort and convenience.  

But parched throats demand an answer. Their desire cannot be ignored.

Will my quest for adventure change into an overflow of fulfillment?

Will I hoard the river or let my life be an outpouring of grace?

John 7:38

Anyone who believes in Me may come and drink! For the Scriptures desclare, "Rivers of living water will flow from the heart of anyone who believes in Me."

Who will you offer a drink this week?

Watching for Miracles

“When will they be ready?” He asks for the tenth time today.

“I don’t know, little man. Soon, though.”

“What will they look like?

“I’m not sure. But I bet they’ll be beautiful.”

He watches, waiting for the moment when they burst forth from their tombs, afraid if he peels his eyes away for even an instant, he’ll miss it.

He’s been watching for two weeks now. They came as larvae. He watched them grow into caterpillars. He watched them inch to the top, spin their webs, and create their shells of transformation. Now he watches their stillness, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.

For a five year old, two weeks is an eternity.

As he watches, he doesn’t realize that I’m watching him. Watching in awe as he grows and changes. Watching in pride as he spins and creates. Waiting in anticipation for the moment his eyes are opened to the Truth, the moment he bursts forth from the tomb and into salvation, a new creation. I could push him. I could convince him. If I asked him if he wanted Jesus to enter into his tiny heart, he would say yes. But I want it to be because he’s seen Jesus with his own little eyes. I want my son to accept Jesus because he sees those nail-scarred hands and can’t help but fall into their safety. It will happen. Soon. The time is close. He’s almost ready. In the meantime, I watch. I wait.

For a mother, five years is but a moment.

And as I watch, I feel the eyes of Someone watching me. Watching in awe as I grow and change. Watching in pride as I spin and create. Waiting in anticipation for the moment when I burst forth from the tomb of my brokenness and into the fullness of freedom in Truth. He could push me, but He doesn’t. Instead, He carries me once again with those nail-scarred hands. His eyes watch, but they don’t wonder. They know. They already see who I will be. Those eyes are the same eyes that formed me in the dark. Those eyes have seen every plummet, every tear, every dream. And those eyes see not only where I have been, but who I will become.

For a King, a lifetime is only the beginning.

A little boy watches as caterpillars become butterflies. A mother watches as her little boy becomes a man. And a King watches as a woman becomes His bride.

Psalm 121:5-8

The Lord Himself watches over you! The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade. The sun will not harm you by day nor the moon at night. The Lord keeps you from harm and watches over your life. The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go, both now and forever.

 

 

 

REST

Rest.

Such a simple word—four measly letters. Yet we avoid it like the plague. We run from it like it holds a contagious virus. How many sermons have we heard about the importance of taking time to be still and seek God’s face? How many books have we scoured in pursuit of answers for the churning of our hearts? And yet still we run. Still we strive. Still we fill our lives with mirages of hope. And then we wonder why we feel so run down.

I spent the last week resting. No demands. No schedule. No appointments. Just me, my lawn chair, and an incredible view. When you stare at something like this, it’s hard to keep moving. The only possible response is to stand frozen (or in my case sit) in awe.

I know what you’re thinking.

“Sure, if all I had to do today was sit in a lawn chair and drink a margarita, I’d be feeling pretty rested too! But that’s not my view in the morning. My view is a pile of dirty dishes, a to-do list with a million things on it, and a life coming apart at the seams.”

But what if this was our view? What if we took the time to see this every single day? Maybe I’m just crazy—but what if we stopped? Stopped running. Stopped searching. Stopped filling? What would happen if we took the time really seek THE FACE that puts the azure of the ocean to shame?

"If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land." - 2 Chronicles 7:14

I like Google’s definition of the word rest:

Rest

Verb:	Cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength. Remain or be left in a specified condition: "rest assured".
Noun:	An instance or period of relaxing or ceasing to engage in strenuous or stressful activity. The remaining part of something.

Did you see the last definition?

The remaining part of something.

Although I experienced a much needed rest for my body this week, I discovered something far greater. When we allow ourselves to be consumed with busyness, we lose something. We lose ourselves in the mess of our chaos. We forget what really matters, and we end up striving, searching, filling. When we stop, we find the parts of ourselves we’ve lost along the way. Those deep parts of our soul that slowly die each day. We also find the parts of God we miss because we don’t give him half a chance to show up.

Is it feasible to imagine our real lives as the lawn chairs overlooking vistas of awe-inspiring grandeur?

I challenge you this week to seek God's face. Let me know what you see. I have a feeling it will blow you away far more than the picture I've posted here.

 

Psalm 27:8

My heart has heard You say, "Come and talk with Me." And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming."

Hungry for More

A cheeseburger ruined my Sunday.

It’s true, my friends. Well, actually I let a cheeseburger ruin my Sunday.

As a mom who has the privilege of taking care of three little people and the wife of a traveling salesman, I don’t get out much. Now that I’m on a slow down and savor the moment path, I’ve been spending a lot of time making messes in the kitchen, jumping on the trampoline, and embarrassing my kids with my incredible dance moves. But if I’m totally honest, I have to tell you that sometimes I’m just exhausted from the weight I bear as a mother.

 A dear friend celebrated her birthday on Saturday, and this always-late-to-everything-girl sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes waiting for everyone else to get there. Yes, that’s how hungry I was for conversation that doesn’t involve bodily functions and requests for justice to be handed out. All week I had dreamed of this night. More than the precious women I would spend time with, it was my grand dreams of a cheeseburger that I set my sights on. It didn’t bother me one bit that everyone else ordered a salad. I didn’t feel one tinge of guilt as I bit into all its juicy loveliness. Unwilling to let the moment end, I saved a quarter to take home.

There was a small part of me that thought for a moment of giving my long-awaited treasure to my husband, but I quickly pushed that thought aside. After all, he gets to eat out on the road every week, right?

At church yesterday, the pastor spoke on praise. He reminded us through a story in the book of Matthew that if God’s people don’t praise him, then the rocks will cry out. The congregation practically soared to their feet as we praised our Great God. I left excited about what God is doing. I wanted to dance. I wanted to raise my family up as a banner declaring the God’s praises.

A hungry stomach tends to get in the way of great intentions.

When we got home, that always-thinking-of-others guy I married began to make lunch for the little people. My mind raced to the cheeseburger waiting in the refrigerator. But it wasn’t there. It was on the counter. I grabbed for it greedily. Someone else had the same thought.

“Just one bite, please?”

“Okay, but tiny.”

And that man took half of my quarter of a cheeseburger.

With my daughter standing there in attendance, I belly-ached like a baby, slammed the microwave, and stomped out of the room. All of my dreams of this cheeseburger fell crashing to the floor.

 And it took me four hours to recover.

Ridiculous? Yes. Childish? Yes. Humiliating? Definitely. Beyond grace? Never

Have you ever been so hungry you did something crazy? Something you look back on and wish you could erase? I’m hungry, but not for cheeseburgers. I’m hungry for the living God who satisfies the deepest longings of my heart.

Psalm 81:10 says,

“Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it with good things.”

I don’t seem to have any trouble opening my mouth. My mouth does just fine spewing out criticism, judgment, frustration, and demands. It also seems quite capable of opening to fill up on the temporary pleasures of this world.

How wide am I opening my mouth so the Bread of Life can fill it with the good things of Himself? Can my mouth even open wide enough to receive what He has for me? Is this the one time my mouth isn’t big enough?

Taste and see that the Lord is good.  Psalm 34:8