Jelly Beans and Jesus

I just might offend you with this post. Please forgive me if I do, but I can’t hold in what’s inside of me right now. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I’m sad. The beauty of my Easter weekend has been tainted by well-meaning words. I just read a blog post by someone whose heart desires to live in the fullness of Christ. I wish this person no disrespect, but I am angry because of the words I just read.

It happens twice a year. Every Christmas and Easter, we are bombarded with how evil American commercialism is and how unspiritual we are if every moment of every day surrounding these holidays is not about Jesus. This past week plastic eggs suddenly became the symbol of all that is corrupt in this world. The words I read today told me that Easter dresses and plastic eggs take away from the true meaning of Easter, and that the money used should have gone to the poor people around the world. I didn’t buy Easter dresses for my kids. That’s not what frustrates me.

I’m frustrated because it doesn’t seem to fit my view of who Jesus is. When he walked this earth, he lived with his people. They went to parties. They ate fish. They sat on the beach. He told the spiritual people that they’d missed the point. Now don’t get me wrong, Easter is a beautiful day, and yes it is about Jesus. But so is making memories as a family. While we decorated eggs as a family, Jesus was there. While we hunted for the one egg no one could remember hiding, Jesus was there. While I ate half the mini-snickers that were supposed to go into the eggs, Jesus was there. While I fixed my four-year old’s hair with the new bow she received, telling her how much our Savior loves her, Jesus was there. He was also there when we did our devotions the week leading up to Easter. He was there when we talked about his sacrifice. He was there as the tears streamed down on Sunday morning singing “You make beautiful things out of the dust.” He was there because celebrating his resurrection means living in the fullness of our life with him. We went on a hike Sunday afternoon. That was just as spiritual as singing that morning in church. Why? Because his Presence is in me! That’s what Easter is about. He came to give us life—His life, in us.

So what do I do with what I’ve read? Do we live in excess in America? Absolutely. But I have a hard time with messages that tell us that we should stop spending and give to the starving children in Africa. You see, five years ago, we moved to Colorado and my husband couldn’t find a job. There were no jobs. We lived on food stamps. We paid our bills with credit cards. We knew how bad debt was, but we didn’t have a choice. Then my husband started a remodeling business. All those materialistic Americans who cared more about redoing their homes than the poor kept our roof over our heads. They put food on our table. I don’t know what we would have done if they hadn’t cared about getting new things for their homes. They could have chosen to give their money away. But their money saved our life.

So I live with this tension. How do I live my life as a drink offering poured out to Christ? Does hiding plastic eggs take away from his sacrifice? If so, then grace must not be as powerful as I thought. Can I sacrifice a new Easter dress to offer hope to a child living in poverty. Yes I can, and it’s actually not that difficult. It’s easy for me to give something up and write a check to a good cause. What truly requires sacrifice is taking time out of my day to talk with a hurting mom in my son’s class. It costs me something to expose my kids to “the world” in an effort to bring the love of Jesus to people hungry and thirsty for life. It’s easy for me to send money to someone I’ll never meet, but to watch a football game with a family whose values differ from ours is extremely difficult.

I’m not saying that one thing is more spiritual than another. All I’m saying is that the finger pointing needs to end. As soon as we start thinking that we are more spiritual than someone else because we give up more or do more, then we are no different from the Pharisees.

Yes, Easter is so much more than plastic eggs and chocolate bunnies. But if even we’re comparing the two, then we don’t realize just how big Jesus really is. I don’t think his invitation to grace is lessened by a few jelly beans. And who knows, maybe he can even use a jelly bean or a plastic egg to show how close he really is.

That’s the Jesus I believe in.

A Glimpse of Heaven

A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in the dust of Ethiopia. In the midst of the stench of poverty, heaven rained down on my feeble heart.

I didn’t want to go. Fear, my faithful friend, won the reigns of my mind yet again. And I fought going with every excuse imaginable. What about the kids…the house…the timing…the finances…All valid excuses. But when God is moving, it’s always best to join in the flow rather than fight his current. That didn’t stop me from fighting, though. I’ve actually become quite a proficient fighter. If only I could fight the enemy with the same passion that I fight my God.

So much to my chagrin, I found myself on the dusty soil of Ethiopia. The place my husband calls home—the farthest place I could imagine from my home. And it was here that the scales from my human eyes fell away. It wasn’t the beautiful landscape, although it was there in abundance. It wasn’t the amazing purpose I felt while I was there, although I will admit I felt more alive than I’ve felt in years. No, it was something completely unexpected that opened my eyes.

If fear is what holds us captive, then it’s always love that sets us free.

I planned for a lot of things for this trip. I planned for preventing malaria. I planned for stopping diarrhea. I planned for the weather, the time-change, and the food. I did not plan to fall in love.

But fall in love I did.

How do you describe what it feels like to be greeted by 20,000 people? People who don’t know you, but are desperate just to shake your hand. People so grateful for the good news of grace, they walk for days to celebrate what God has done.  They sleep on the grass and sit for hours, watching with exhilaration the culmination of God’s promise. Smiles so big, you melt in their warmth.

The dedication of a Bible school brought 21 Americans to Ethiopia. The dedication of a Bible school brought 20,000 Ethiopians to the small town of Yirgachafe. But it was love that brought us together. A love that is so deep, it reaches into the depths of our sinfulness. A love so wide, it covers the chasm our hopelessness. A love so high, it rains down healing for our brokenness.

That’s what happened on the dusty roads of Ethiopia. Rain poured down in the middle of the dry season. Rain poured down on weary hearts, regardless of the color of our faces. Heaven met earth with a sweet, intoxicating kiss. But this is only a taste. It's only the beginning. The feast is yet to come.

If we’ve stopped believing in a God of miracles, it isn’t because He doesn’t exist. It’s because we can’t see Him in our busyness and selfishness. A God of miracles demands our attention, but we’re too busy looking at ourselves, our problems, our dreams, and our disappointments. Or maybe we’re just simply too scared. We get comfortable in our captivity. Fear becomes our friend. Freedom means action. Freedom means moving out of the shadows and into the Light. But what if we like the shadows?

A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in Ethiopia. And with new eyes, I’m home again with my kids, my house, my time, and my finances. To believe in a God of miracles, it requires my attention. If I’m looking somewhere else, I will miss what He is doing. Will I succumb to my fear once more? Will I continue to fight against God, or will I engage in the battle for truth?

What do I do with what I’ve seen?

Well, I guess you’ll just have to stay tuned to find out!

Where are you God?

A senseless tragedy. A raging lunatic. A broken community. A country in shock.

How could this happen, we ask as we think about the unimaginable pain of the victims? Where is God in all of this? Couldn’t he have prevented this? The comments fly on facebook. Anger causes people to say unthinkable things. “Death is too sweet for this madman…Hell is not a good enough punishment…” I understand their anger. I see the desperation of their hearts. I know how sharply the thought of going through this pierces the soul.

Our hearts cry out as fear creeps in. We blame the schools. We blame the laws. We search for some way to understand this devastation. The normal reaction is to protect. Attempt to control our lives so that nothing like this ever happens. We close in to ourselves, making sure that all protective barriers are in place.

Things like this cause me to wonder many things. Horror is followed quickly by anger, which is never far from fear.

And I cry out, “Where are you God?”

His response? “In you.”

A world in darkness has seen a great light. Yet we bask in the light of Christmas while the world waits in hopelessness, desperate for a Savior.

A couple years ago, I was deeply immersed in ministry. I was involved in everything at church. Teaching, writing, leading, planning. Driving 25 minutes to church several times a week in order to change the lives of those I would minister to. A lady two houses down from me committed suicide one afternoon. I had never met her. I didn’t even know her name.

And I cry out, “Where are you God?”

“In you.”

Yes, we have a problem in this country. But it’s not the problem that everyone is raging about. People living in darkness can’t see where they are going. How can we expect them to? We shine the light on our own families and circles, and then we are shocked to find that the world is drowning in darkness. For the month of December, we catch a glimpse of the despair. We see pictures of starving people in Africa. We remember the homeless downtown. But no one reminds us about the boy in a third grade class whose anger is building because he gets made fun of on a daily basis. No one tells us to reach out to the family down the street because the dad is an alcoholic and the children live in constant fear. We drive across town and send our money overseas to help with noble causes. But there are children in our schools, our neighborhoods, and maybe even our churches who are lonely and hopeless, crying out for help. When will the church wake up? How many tragedies will it take before we stop hiding in fear and start bringing the light of Jesus to a dark and dying world?

Every single “monster” who has committed one of these heinous crimes has a story of deep loneliness, hopelessness, and darkness. So tonight, yes, hold your children close. Cling to them, sing to them, and thank God it wasn’t them. But remember that there may be a child down the street from you who isn’t being held tonight. A child desperate for the light, but stumbling in the darkness.

“Where are you God?”

“In you.”

And if we grasp this, then a world living in darkness will indeed see a great LIGHT!!!

The REAL Miracle of Christmas

Eleven men gather together, their hearts bursting with excitement. Before them, sits the man they’ve known for three years. The man, that just recently hung from a cross and lay dead in a tomb. Yet here he is, alive. After centuries of waiting, it is finally time. Their King is risen. It’s time to act. Can you feel the anticipation in the room? Can you hear the beating of their hearts as he looks into their eyes? One word is all it would take. All he needs to say is “Now” and they will move. Their dreams will come true. Their prayers will be answered. Freedom will come to an imprisoned nation.

Can you picture them leaning forward, nudging each other to ask the burning question?

Finally, they can’t hold it in any longer. They have to know. Now.

“So when the apostles were with Jesus, they kept asking him, “Lord, has the time come for you to free Israel and restore our kingdom?” Acts 1:6

It’s taken them awhile, but they believe now. They know who sits before them. This is truly the One they’ve been waiting for. He’s proven himself, and now it’s time to act. The promises of God, passed down through the ages, are about to unfold. Deliverance. Hope. Victory. That’s God’s plan, right? That’s why Jesus came, right? To make everything better? To put the rightful heir back on the throne?

“He replied, “The Father alone has the authority to set those dates and times, and they are not for you to know. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Acts 1:7-8

What?????

“I thought he was coming to save us,” they ask. “Aren’t you going to DO something?”

Centuries of waiting—desperate for answers to their prayers—Jesus tells them now he’s not going to do what they are expecting. What they don’t realize, is that he’s going to do something BETTER! Their broken dream is replaced with a bigger dream. Because God’s dreams for his people and his kingdom are bigger than anything we can imagine. No, he didn’t free Israel from the Romans. He did something way bigger. He deposited his power within them! Deliverance. Hope. Victory. All within them. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead would soon be living in them!

God’s dreams are always bigger than our dreams. The greatest miracle God will perform, is the miracle of his Presence living and breathing within us. That is the miracle of Christmas. Not deliverance from our circumstances, but deliverance from the chains around our hearts. He came to see us free. And that is still what he’s doing today.

11-11

I knew from the moment it began appearing, it meant something. 11:11 has followed me everywhere this year. Or, now that I know better, I should say it was leading me somewhere. The problem, though, was that I had no idea what it meant. Why did I look at the clock without realizing it every day at 11:11? Why did these numbers jump out at me when I least expected? I believe God speaks to us in many different ways. He has such a sense of humor, there’s no telling what he’ll do next. At first, it intrigued me. What special message was God trying to get across? I scoured the Bible, looking up every eleventh verse in every eleventh chapter. Nothing. So I asked trusted friends and family what they thought it could mean. Nothing. My intrigue quickly turned to irritation.

“I’m not playing games with you, God. If you have something to say to me, say it. I’m not going on a scavenger hunt.”

So I pushed it to the back of my mind, reminding myself and God continually that I wasn’t interested in this game.

This past year has been the one of the darkest years of my life. It’s also been the most transformational year of my life. The things I’ve learned about who I am and who God is has rocked me to my core. I realized that I was a spinning, striving, hungry, insecure, empty mess. I learned how performance-based my relationship with God was, and how my ministry fed a hunger in my heart that would only leave me hungry for more. God opened my eyes to his heart for me. He showed me what it means to be His daughter and how that affects every other aspect of my life.

Isn’t it interesting that a butterfly’s transformation takes place in the darkness of a cocoon? The place where no one else can see. A seed must hide in the depths of a tomb before it erupts into what it was created for. I’ve been in a tomb this year. A lonely, dark, empty tomb. And I’ve fought to get out. I've tried clawing my way out. I’ve begged God for direction. I’ve pleaded with him for light. And apart from his Presence, the only answer He gave was 11:11. Seriously irritating.

I began to get afraid. What was going to happen on November 11^th? What would God take from me? One of my children? My husband? My house? The more I thought about it, the more I began to fear. And slowly, the shackles returned. The chains of fear held me paralyzed in my tomb. I scoured the Bible again. Nothing, except for Sarah having a baby even though she was barren. Was I going to have a baby?  Not funny, God.

No, I would just have to lock up everyone in my family up on November 11^th. No one would be allowed to leave the house. We would sit on the couch and watch TV. That way I could make sure that nothing would happen. That’s what happens when we let our chains rule our life. Nothing happens. We live paralyzed and stuck. Real life happens when we let go. Real life happens when we realize that God can actually be trusted with everything.

I don’t want to live in a tomb. Living in fear is not living at all. Vying for control only leaves me exhausted. So I let it go. I let 11:11 go. Because in the end, I don’t have any control, and our days have already been numbered.

And that’s when I heard it. The still, small voice, beckoning me to John chapter 11 verse 11. I had read it just two days before, and it meant nothing. What I know now, is that I just wasn’t ready.

John 11:11

“Then he said, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but now I will go and wake him up.”

And suddenly it all became clear. The darkness of this past year. The floundering. The loneliness. The frustration. I was asleep and it was time to wake up. No amount of my own effort could wake me up. I was asleep because for too long I had tried in my own strength. For too long I had fought a battle I was never intended to fight. I had to be transformed, and transformation always happens in the dark.

Have you ever had cold water thrown in your face to wake you up? That’s what happened to me. Like a butterfly erupting from its cocoon, I felt my wings for the first time. Like a flower peaking through the dark soil, I caught a glimpse of who I’m created to be. A new vision for ministry opened up before me. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt awake.

But that’s not the end of the story. This all happened on 11-9.  11-11 was still to come.

Today is 11-11. I woke up this morning still anxious about the day, hoping I heard God right, but doubts creeping in. The snake in the garden convinced Eve to doubt God with the question he’s been asking ever since: “Did God really say?” I wasn’t sure anymore. Did He? Dare I believe that I heard His voice?

Little did I know what God had in store for me today. As I sat in church, my thoughts drifted, my fear always lurking like a shadow. That’s when the pastor told us to turn in our Bibles to John chapter 11.

To say that God took my breath away doesn’t describe what happened this morning. When I saw John 11:11 on the screen today on 11-11, I literally could not breathe. I couldn’t stop the tears. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He went through the story of Lazarus, and I knew I wasn't the only one waking up. He called us up to the front. I RAN!

My precious friends—today, on 11-11, Jesus called me out of the tomb.

John 11:43

Then Jesus shouted, “Lazarus, come out!”
And the dead man came out, his hands and feet bound in graveclothes, his face wrapped in a headcloth. Jesus told them, “Unwrap him and let him go!”
And my fear, like the graveclothes binding Lazarus, finally fell away.

What happens in the darkness of a cocoon is more important than anything the butterfly does in its lifetime. It is the cocoon that causes our jaws to drop. I’m grateful for my time in the cocoon. But there’s nothing like waking up from a much-needed sleep to discover that you are ready for a new day.

11-11 marks a new birth for me. A new vision. A new purpose. I am now in the business of setting captives free!

Happy 11-11.

Diamond in the Rough

I’m in love.

I have all the symptoms. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t talk about anything else. I catch myself day dreaming when I should be working. I’m finding excuses to sneak a visit. I’m just hopelessly in love and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Some of you will think I’m materialistic. Others of you will understand completely. I’ll tell you either way…I’m in love with a house! It’s not just any house, mind you. It’s a house that my husband and I have been dreaming of for ten years. It’s a house I’ve hunted for the past four years. It’s not just any house. It’s my house.

Do you remember a few months ago, when I thought that maybe God made a mistake. Remember that house that I thought I wanted? Well, I was wrong. God gave me something better, and I am absolutely madly and wildly in love.

The funny thing, though, is that if you were to see it, you probably wouldn’t see I see. They say love is blind. Well, let’s just say it’s not the prettiest thing right now. At least, that’s probably what you would think if you saw it.

You would see a mess. You would see a lot of work. You might even think that we’re crazy.

You would see broken windows in the upstairs bedroom. But I see a view of my kids playing on the tire swing.

You would see orange walls with black trim in the living room. I see our family playing games together on Sunday nights. I see us gathered around the fire on cold winter nights.

You would see an outdated kitchen missing some necessary appliances. I see a room that’s filled with friends. I see our table at Thanksgiving, overflowing with food and surrounded by people hungry for friendship.

You might see chipped paint, stained carpet, and old wallpaper. I see every room with new floors, new paint, and a new beginning.

You might see a daunting task. I see the hope of what is yet to be.

They say love is blind. But maybe it’s not that love is blind as much as that love sees not simply what is, but what can be.

I don’t see a run-down house. I see the fulfillment of years of dreaming. I don’t see the years of neglect and damage. I see what this house will be when I am finished with it. I’ve calculated the cost. I know the effort it’s going to take, and my back already aches with the hours I’ve already labored for this dream. But I don’t see just a run-down house.

I see a diamond in the rough.

As I sit in the car, waiting for the light to turn green, my mind wanders once again to paint colors and counter tops. Another trip to Home Depot. Another day of back-breaking work picking up the debris scattered across the property. And my heart surges with joy.

That’s when the Master Crafstman—the King of New Beginnings, whispers something in my ear that blows me away.

“The way you see this house, Melissa…that’s how I see you. Where the world sees brokenness, I see a view of you living in the fullness of who I’ve created you to be. Where the world sees failure and hopelessness, I see the fulfillment of the dreams I’ve had from the beginning. Others might see the parts that are run-down, outdated, and imperfect…but I see who you really are.”

“I see who you will be when I am finished with you.”

Isn’t that the beauty of our stories? He isn’t finished yet. He has a dream for my life. He has a dream for your life. No matter how run-down and hopeless we might feel or look, He doesn’t see that. He isn’t finished. And He’s got some big plans.

Isaiah 62:3-4

The LORD will hold you in his hand for all to see—a splendid crown in the hand of God.

Never again will you be called “The Forsaken City” or “The Desolate Land.”

Your new name will be “The City of God’s Delight” and “The Bride of God.”

For the LORD delights in you and will claim you as his bride.

God loves you now, in the midst of your brokenness. In the midst of your mess. And rebuilding you is his delight. He has big dreams for your life, and every step in the process is precious to him.

I really love my house. I love it now, in the midst of its brokenness. We didn’t want a perfect house. We wanted a house that would have our tears, our sweat, and our love ingrained in it. We wanted a house that would reflect who we are. When you visit my house, my hope is that you’ll see me in it. I hope you see my house and say, “That’s so you, Melissa.”

God’s purpose is to make us into a reflection of who He is. His tears, His sweat, His love is ingrained in us. The task of making us new is not daunting. In fact, He can’t wait to show you to this world—a splendid crown in his hand. And then maybe, the world will turn and look at us and say, “Wow, that’s so God!”

However you are feeling today. Whatever mess your life is in. It’s time to see yourself differently. You are a crown in the hand of God. You are His delight, His bride, His dream.

You are His Diamond in the Rough!

Shackled by Fear

I’ve been paralyzed by fear lately. It keeps me awake at night. It haunts me during the day. A life-sucking grip has held me captive for weeks now.

God is asking me to do something bold. He’s asking me to do something risky.

Want to know the scandalous part? What he’s asking me to do is contrary to the Christian culture I’m immersed in. I’ve been told that what I am about to do will ruin my children. I’ve been talked about behind my back. I’ve been criticized, judged, warned, and ridiculed.

Bet you’re on the edge of your seat, just dying to know what this radical thing is that I’m about to do. Ready for it?

I’m putting my kids in a PUBLIC SCHOOL!!!

And all the things people have said to me have allowed fear to slowly take control.

But I can’t give in. That voice that I know so well has called me yet again. His voice is the one that must reign above all the others; and believe me, there are plenty others. While we keep our mouths closed in most areas of parenting opinions, the topic of where we send our kids to school seems to be an open firing range.

This is not a post about how your kids should be schooled, though. I honestly don’t have an opinion about where you should send your kids to school. I do, however, have a lot to say on what fear can do to the heart of a mother who wants the best for her children. I know those fears that keep you awake at night. They are my fears too. And they will eat us alive.

God is asking our family to be a light in our community. He's revealed a specific plan about how to reach our neighbors through the school. It's going to take guts. It's going to take a God-sized dream and God-empowered strength. I’ve fought him time and time again because too often I allow fear to determine my steps.

But this isn’t a post about where my kids are going to school.

This is a post about the greatness of my God!

I’ve brought my fears to His throne time and time again. And time and time again his answer remains the same.

“Do you believe I’m big enough?”

Do I? Do I really believe He’s big enough? Do I really believe that His dreams for my family are bigger than anything I can imagine? Do I really believe that He is who He says He is, and that is ENOUGH?

The other day, just when I thought the fear would swallow me whole, this is the passage God gave me.

Isaiah 8:11-14

The Lord has given me a strong warning not to think like everyone else does.

He said, “Don’t call everything a conspiracy, like they do, and don’t live in dread of what frightens them. 

Make the Lord of Heaven’s Armies holy in your life.

He is the one you should fear.

He is the one who should make you tremble.  He will keep you safe.

A lot of things make me tremble. But this says that there’s only one thing that should make me tremble. The thing about fear is, it’s just a big waste of time. It holds us captive; and instead of protecting us from danger, it keeps us from living. I’ve spent too much time in a prison cell of fear. I want to start living. I want to trust that my God really is big enough to carry out His plans for my life and for my family.

What are you afraid of today? What security are you clinging to today that God is asking you to let go of? What is making your heart tremble?

Do you believe He’s big enough?