The Comfort of Captivity

Something stopped me in my tracks this week.

It haunts me. My heart is in turmoil, desperate to close my eyes to the truth. When you catch your reflection in the glint of the double-edge sword, it can’t be ignored. And so I share with you the words that pierced my soul this week.

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The people of Judah are captives in Persia. Ransacked by a foreign king. Stripped of their land, their freedom, their heritage, and their hope. Their city lies in ruins. God’s magnificent temple is merely a shamble of stone.

Years of warning, pleading, beckoning, forgiving, reminding, and rescuing by God weren’t enough to keep their hearts faithful. They just couldn’t turn away from their idols. They couldn’t stop worshipping the lifeless stones of their enemies. So God did exactly what He said He would do. He let them be carried away into captivity. His chosen people, His prized possession, His holy nation—swallowed up in the arms of their enemies.

Out of the blue, King Cyrus of Persia decides that the city of Jerusalem needs to be rebuilt. The God of Israel needs a place for His people to worship Him. So, he offers the people a chance. He gives them freedom. Out of 42,360 people, only 74 Levites choose to go back. They build, but the opposition is too great. For 16 years, the temple sits unfinished—void of the life-changing power of God’s Presence. And no one seems to be the least bit bothered by it.

Until one day, a man named Ezra shows up. He’s a priest and a scribe. He knows God’s word by heart. A new King gives Ezra permission, funding, supplies, and favor to finish the work. This foreign king understood the power of the God of Israel.

Ezra rounds up the people, and they set off. But when he stops to find the priests, he realizes the shocking truth.

Not one Levite had volunteered to come along.

Ezra 8:15

The Levites were responsible for the temple of the LIVING GOD. They were set apart as holy, and their responsibilities were not to be taken lightly. To be entrusted with the dwelling place of the God who parts Red Seas, tears down Jericho’s walls, conquers undefeatable armies, rains down bread from heaven, and displays His glory in a pillar of fire is A BIG DEAL!!!

Not one Levite volunteered to go.

Not one.

Not one was willing to fight for God’s dwelling place.

Not one wanted to claim back a heritage.

Not one couldn’t contain the urge to dance in new-found freedom.

Not one.

This is what happens when captivity becomes our home. This is what happens when the grip of our culture grasps us so tightly, we don’t even realize we’ve stopped breathing. This is the poison, the lie, the promise that our captivity has more to offer us than freedom. We don’t belong in captivity…and yet doesn’t it feel safe?

Are you sitting cozy in the comfort of your captivity?

You are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation. God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for He called you out of darkness and into His wonderful light. - 1 Peter 2:9

Will any of us volunteer?

Is there anyone willing to fight for God’s dwelling place—your heart…your children’s hearts?

Does anyone long to claim back a heritage from the clutches of our culture?

When will we burst from our chains and dance like crazy in the blaze of a new-found freedom?

Or do our chains feel just a bit too comfortable?

Snacking on Jesus

Think about the word satisfied for a minute. What comes to mind? Maybe images of Thanksgiving surface, reminding you of a perfectly cooked turkey, plump mashed potatoes, and a slice of pumpkin pie topped with vanilla ice cream. Or maybe—if you’re like me—the word satisfied produces visions of a turquoise ocean, a white sandy beach, and a drink that looks good with a tiny umbrella in it. Whatever comes to mind, sit for a minute and dream. Dream about the sounds of children laughing or waves lapping onto the shore. Dream about that moment—that perfect moment—when everything just seems right. There are no worries to think about or errands to run. Your fears took the day off, and the demands of your life went for a hike. There’s peace. There’s joy. You are completely and totally satisfied. It doesn’t happen very often, does it?

Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.

John 6:35

Jesus tells us that He is the Bread of Life. I don’t know about you, but bread isn’t necessarily my favorite kind of food. Sure, I enjoy a piece of toast now and then; and there’s nothing like a good baguette dipped in homemade soup. But when I read that Jesus is the Bread of Life, it’s easy for me to dismiss it as irrelevant. Now, had he said he was the Nachos of Life, well then He’d be speaking my language!

So what does this mean to us here in the 21^st century? Does this identity of Jesus have any power to change our lives when bread isn’t usually the thing we dream about in our spare time? I think it does. In fact, I think if we could grasp what Jesus is saying to us here, we would never be the same. Our insecurities, our lack of fulfillment, and even our failures would be swallowed up in His sufficiency. Are you tired of being tired? Are you finished looking for ways to satisfy the hunger inside of you with things that you know will never last? Jesus is calling to you today. Right here. Right now. He wants to satisfy the deepest longings of your heart. He wants to calm the storm that’s raging around you and hold you in the shadow of His wings.

Jesus desires one thing from us: trust. He wants us to believe in Him. Yes, it begins with believing in Him as our Savior, but then it must move beyond that. He wants us to believe that He is enough, and that He can satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts. But we make it so complicated. We want Him to perform for us. It’s easy to trust Him when His performance is impressive, but then we so quickly doubt Him at the first sign of hardship.

How are you hoping God will perform in your life right now? What are the things you are asking Him for?

I think that we often live waiting for the circumstances of our lives to fall into place. In a sense, we see good things that happen to us as our “meals”. We think that we will find satisfaction when we get that job, find that husband, get out of debt…the list goes on. In the meantime, we get restless, frustrated, and grumpy because we’re hungry. If the thing we’re waiting for doesn’t show up on time, the growling begins. Trust me, I know. I don’t like missing a meal. Ask my husband how many times I’ve been upset with him for not being home on time so we can eat!

 We know that Jesus is good. We are probably even aware of our need for Him. But instead of coming to Him to find fulfillment, we “snack” on Him. Sounds kind of weird, I know, but do you see what I mean? A little bit here. A little bit there. Hmm, I’m feeling kind of empty, just a bit lonely, or maybe a little afraid. So we snack. Maybe a little bite on Sunday morning. Or we read the Bible for a few minutes at the end of the day before our eyes get too heavy to keep them open. It always surprises me that I can watch two hours of pointless sitcoms, and as soon as I get in bed and open my Bible, my eyes feel pinned down with twenty pound weights.

Now don’t get me wrong, here. I don’t think there’s a magic amount of time you need to spend reading your Bible and praying. I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with watching TV. But if you want fulfillment—if you want life to be more than waiting for good things to happen to you—then you have to do more than snack on Jesus. You have to make him the main course. And you need to have the main course often.

In what ways do you “snack” on Jesus?

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