Hooked

When I was in third grade, I vividly remember playing the same game every day at recess.  It was called “boys chase the girls”.  Yeah, real creative name, right?  Well, just as the name describes, the boys would chase the girls all around the playground, and we would scream and cry, “No, leave us alone!”  There was one time when a teacher came up to us and told the boys to stop.  She said, “Can’t you hear them?  They’re asking you to stop.”   I remember looking up at her and saying, “No, we don’t want them to stop.  It’s fun.”

From the time we are little girls, the desire to be pursued is profoundly ingrained into our hearts.  There is something fun indeed about being chased by someone who desires you.  We enter into adulthood with these same desires, hoping that the man of our dreams will chase us, catch us, and carry us away.  If he’s smart enough, he’ll know that the running away is merely part of the game. 

Whatever you are going through today, you are loved. You are loved by a King who bears your name on His nail-scarred hands. It’s a make your knees tremble, heart skip a beat, do crazy things kind of love.  And He is zealously, passionately, and jealously pursuing your heart.  Right now.  Right here.  HE WANTS YOU TO BE HIS AND HIS ALONE!!!!

The problem is we like to run.  After all, it is part of the game, right?

“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders.” Luke 15:4-5

I struggle fully understanding the imagery of Jesus as my shepherd. Every sermon I’ve ever heard on it highlights the fact that sheep are stupid. They wander around, getting into trouble because they are too dumb to stay focused. Shepherds use their crooks to catch straying sheep.  The curve at the top of the crook is just the right size to fit around a sheep’s neck.  When we think of Jesus as our shepherd, this image often comes to mind.  We picture a man who is constantly grabbing those trouble-making sheep who can’t seem to get their act together.  There have certainly been times when I’ve been caught red-handed wandering to who knows where.  I can wake up in the morning determined to stay on course, but it seems like something always draws me away.  Whether it’s a thought that reminds me of the hurt I’ve experienced, or the temptation to surrender to pride and selfishness, I so easily wander away from who I am created to be.  Sometimes I run ahead of God, telling Him which way to turn because I’m pretty sure He doesn’t know where He is going.  And then there is always the tendency to think that I can do things on my own.  I’ve experienced the discipline of being pulled back to where I belong.  It doesn’t feel good, but I’m glad I have a shepherd watching out for me.

If we only see Jesus as the one who keeps us in line, though, we’ve missed the point.  There is a difference between being caught and being hooked.  The word hooked means, “To be captivated by or devoted to.”  How do you view Jesus?  Is the staff that leads and protects you one that must always be catching you?  Or are you hooked?  Are you captivated by the love that He freely offers you?

I want to be more than just caught by His embrace.  I want to be so hooked that I won’t ever want to wander away again.

Isaiah 40:11

He will feed His flock like a shepherd.  He will carry the lambs in His arms, holding them close to His heart.  He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young.

Are you doubting God’s love today? Are you struggling with disappointment or loneliness? Are you tired, frustrated, and let down? Are you unsure of your worth?

Let Him carry you in His arms, close to His heart. For that is where you belong.

Detours and Dead Ends

The curtains were picked. The paint colors were chosen. The garden was planned. The chicken coop was designed. The papers were signed…our offer was strong. I even had my facebook update ready.

Driving home from the gym, smiling at glistening snow while children sang along to the music, that’s when the call came. That’s when I got the answer to my earnest prayers.

NO again. It seems that that is the only answer we ever get. No…No…No…

I had told myself over and over not to hold on too tightly to this dream. Yet deep down I could not deny how devastated I would be if it didn’t happen. I told God that I would praise Him regardless. I did. I praised Him because I know who He is. He doesn’t play games. He doesn’t dangle carrots in front of us and watch us chase them, even though it seems like it sometimes. His plans are good for our life. His dreams are big for our family.

My praise didn’t feel complete, though. I couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that God had made a mistake this time. Didn’t He realize how much I wanted it? Couldn’t He see how ideal the location would be for ministry? We had prayed for months for this house specifically. The doors kept opening. Why does He always lead me straight into disappointment?

I was reminded, as I often am, of the Israelites standing hopelessly before the Red Sea.

When Pharaoh finally let the people go, God did not lead them along the main road that runs through the Philistine territory, even though that was the shortest route to the Promised Land…So God led them in a roundabout way through the wilderness toward the Red Sea Exodus13:17-18

What?  A roundabout way through the wilderness!  If you look at a map of ancient Egypt, you will notice that in order to get from Egypt to Canaan, the people did not need to travel anywhere close to the Red Sea.  It’s a straight shot along the Mediterranean Sea, which should have taken around eleven days.  But God didn’t take them the easy way.  In fact, as soon as they thought they were out of harm’s way, he actually made them turn around and change course.  Can you imagine the thoughts racing through their minds—the questions, the doubts, the fears encircling their anxious hearts? 

Here they are on their way to the culmination of centuries of dreams, and God says, “Actually, can you please go back.  Trust me, I know what I’m doing, but I want you to head right back to Pharaoh.”

Umm…yeah right!  I don’t know about you, but my response may have sounded something more like, “No way, Mister!” 

Surely God didn’t really know what he was doing, right?  How often do I accuse him of ignorance in my life?  In my anguish I cry out, “If you only knew what was going on…If you could only see what I see…”  Sounds crazy, but it’s what we do.  It’s what the Israelites did.  But can you blame them?  Basically, they found themselves in the worst situation possible.  Rugged mountains blocked their way on either side.  The Red Sea loomed in front while the Egyptians shouted from behind.  No way across, and no way to run back; God had led them straight into a dead end.

Talk about a serious disappointment. 

In my own disappointment, God probed my heart once again with the mystery of this story. I responded with questions. “Why does it have to be about your glory?” “Why can’t you give me something just because I want it?” “Why do you have to lead us to the Red Sea when there is an easier route?”

In the midst of my questions, I found this verse:

Your road led through the sea, your pathway through the mighty waters—a pathway no one knew was there! Psalm 77:19

Does God actually lead us to disappointment? That’s often how I view my life. He leads us to disappointment and then comes through at the last minute to prove once again how faithful He is. But this verse made me see things differently.

God never viewed the Red Sea as a disappointment. It was the people who made it into one. God didn’t make something good happen out of something bad. The Red Sea was something good. While the Israelites saw their dreams dissipate, God saw the path there all along. In God’s eyes, the Red Sea wasn’t an obstacle. It wasn’t a setback. It wasn’t the loss of a dream. IT WAS THE DREAM—A bigger dream than the people could have ever conjured up on their own.

What if I really believed that God wants what’s best for me? What if I really trusted Him enough to stop questioning His goodness? What if I began to view the Red Sea not as a disappointment, but rather as the pathway to a dream bigger than I can see right now?

What disappointments are you facing right now?

What if you believed that maybe, just maybe, there is a pathway only God can see? Can you trust Him enough to praise Him before He parts the water?

A Dare to Do Nothing

You may have noticed that the past few months have been a bit dreary for me. If I’m totally honest with you, the past three months have been some of the darkest months of my life. I could give you the list of everything that’s been going on, but it would be neither appropriate nor beneficial. I want to tell you that I’m strong. I want to tell you that I have it all together. When you read my writing, I want you to think that I am an incredible mom, wife, and friend. I want you to see how completely sold out I am for Christ. After all, why would you think a crazy lady stuck in a pit of depression has anything to say? There’s always the temptation to pretend to be someone I’m not. And I realize that I fool no one with this charade.

I will be honest with you. It’s been dark. Dark. Lonely. Scary. Depressing.

Just last week, though, two friends opened my eyes. A five hour dinner woke me up from a long sleep.

I’ve been wrestling against the darkness, and that’s the very thing that has made me miserable. I’ve been trying to figure out how to escape the darkness.

What do I need to do, God???? What do you want me to do????

Nothing.

Moses knew darkness. When the people build a golden calf and God refuses to go any further with them, Moses begs God to change his mind. He knows that without God’s presence, any attempt is futile. So God listens. And to prove it, he tells Moses, “I will make all my goodness pass before you” (Exodus 33:19). But here’s the catch. It requires darkness first.

Verses 21-22

The Lord continued, “Look, stand near me on this rock. As my glorious presence passes by, I will hide you in the crevice of the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by.”

It must have been dark hidden there under God’s hand.

Could it be that the darkness is actually the safest place we could be? Could it be that when we feel life can’t get any darker, it’s because we are secured in the crevice of the rock, hidden by a nail-scarred hand while God’s goodness passes by? And if we stopped. If we stopped wrestling that hand, maybe, just maybe, we would catch a glimpse of His glory?

And then suddenly we’d realize that it’s actually in the darkness that we see HIM. We would realize that an unexpected friendship is actually the revelation of his heart. The failure you can’t get over is actually the greatest expression of his grace. The person who hurt you is actually the stairway to a new level of his affection. The loss of one dream is actually the doorway to a place greater than your wildest dreams.

Be still and know that I AM GOD.

Can we ever truly KNOW God unless we are still? Unless we stop wrestling against his hand?

This is my year to stop.

This is my year to simply be.

I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I’m more of the daily resolution kind of girl. Today I won’t yell at my kids…Today I won’t get mad when my husband comes home late…Today I will let go of that hurt…Today I won’t eat ten chocolate chip cookies…Today I will be patient, kind, loving, skinny, energetic…perfect. Hah!

It’s a recipe for disaster. It’s a recipe for darkness.

What do you want me to DO God?????   Nothing.

Today…

Instead of trying to be a good mom, I will be still and know that HE IS GOD.

Instead of trying to be patient, I will be still and know that HE IS GOD.

Instead of trying to overcome my anger, I will be still and know HE IS GOD.

Instead of trying to measure up to who I think I should be, I will be still and know HE IS GOD

Instead of trying to manipulate my dreams into reality, I will be still and know HE IS GOD.

Instead of trying to find purpose, I will be still and know HE IS GOD.

Instead of trying to muster up grace for others, I will be still and know HE IS GOD.

Instead of striving for worth, I will be still and know HE IS GOD.

And maybe if I’m still long enough, I will actually KNOW him. Not the God I’ve conjured up in my head. Not the God I think he should be. Not the God I expect to find. No, I will KNOW him as HE IS.

I have a feeling that all the other things will fall into place.

And maybe, just maybe, the people around me will look my way and realize that I’m not there anymore. No, they will look my way and stop for just a moment because they see God’s goodness passing by.

Radical Living

It’s over.

Another Christmas has come and gone, and I for one am exhausted.

I got caught up in a frenzy this holiday season, but not the usual frenzy of shopping and consuming (although I did a bit of both, I must admit). No, I allowed myself to get caught up in the Christian frenzy that begins every December 1^st. Something happens to Christians at Christmas time. Bibles come out, Jesus becomes an all-consuming focus, and Santa Claus and materialism turn into the sole contributors for America’s moral decay. 

Seems to me like Santa Claus is given more credit than he’s due.

Meanwhile, parents desperately attempt to counter Santa Claus’ power by inundating their kids with the true meaning of Christmas. As long as our kids know the answer to that one vital question, we’ve succeeded, right? If they can tell their grandparents, teachers, or preferably a random passerby whose birthday we will celebrate on December 25th, we pat ourselves on the back and deem the season a success.

I did everything I was supposed to do this Christmas. It just never went as planned. Maybe my kids aren’t as spiritual as they should be, but they didn’t sit on the edge of their seats when we did the Jesse tree. In fact, they did everything but sit still and listen. At least one of us was crying by the end of our time together each evening. Not exactly how I saw it going in my head. I tried really hard to give them special memories to last their lifetimes, but they just didn’t seem to appreciate all the important things I was trying to do for them. Making sugar cookies, for instance…I hate making sugar cookies (Gasp!!). Don’t deny that you hate getting them from little kids too. You know they are full of boogers and drool. Well, I did the good mom thing, but it resulted in a different child in time out for the entire experience.

Yes, memories to last a lifetime. That’s what we made…

What surprises me most, though, is how many blogs, sermons, and articles are written about how to keep Christ in Christmas as if this is somehow a radical idea. Don’t get me wrong. I think there is something very holy and beautiful about Christmas. But keeping Christ in Christmas isn’t radical. Jesus is everywhere at Christmas. Walmart plays songs about him during the same month we frantically tell our kids about his birth. Many of the real-life influential leaders in our country’s moral decay suddenly proclaim Christ’s birth through our stereos. We give to the poor. We take a stand against materialism. For one month, we are not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.  

And then it’s over, and everything goes back to the way it was. The Bibles go back on the shelves, traditions melt into normalcy, our passionate pursuit of the Messiah in the manger dissipates into complacency, and all our efforts to live radically leave us unchanged on January 2nd. We can’t keep our resolutions because we haven’t been transformed by the One who came to turn our lives upside down.

A REAL encounter with the Messiah doesn’t leave us unchanged.

What if we pursued the God-incarnate miracle of Jesus as passionately in February as we do in December?

What if God’s Holy Word actually became our daily bread instead of an annual feast?

What if we were as worried about teaching our kids the true meaning of life as we are about teaching them the true meaning of Christmas?

What if we changed the way we live so that giving to the poor becomes a way of life instead of a special occasion?

What if we realized that our own complacency is a greater threat to our children’s faith than Santa Claus ever will be?

Now THAT would be radical!

Invasion of LIGHT

It’s been a rough year. Piercing betrayals, ugly disappointments, shattered dreams, and empty promises have left me struggling to find my way. At times my soul feels enveloped in darkness. Why keep chasing the illusion of victory? Is it better to just bow out of the fight? Hand over the trophy to the enemy?

Have you ever felt this way?

This Christmas season has been hard. I’m reading the stories. I’m singing the songs. I’m watching the lights. I’m remembering the Savior. But I’m void of joy. I just can’t shake the darkness. I just can’t find the hope.

The thing about darkness is that is comes upon you unexpectedly. When afternoon surrenders to twilight, our eyes adjust as the darkness encroaches around us. The enemy doesn’t knock on the door and demand for us to hand everything over to him. No, he’s much more cunning than that. He steals things bit by bit. Slowly. Stealthily. Until suddenly we wonder where our joy has gone. What happened to the mom who saw big dreams for her family? What happened to the marriage that wouldn’t succumb to the ranks of statistics? Where is the heart that refused to give in to the status quo? If we think back, we won’t remember when we gave it away. It happened right before our eyes, but when we weren’t looking.

As darkness circles, our hearts adjust and hopelessness becomes the norm.

But Light is different. Light isn’t sneaky like darkness. Light can’t be ignored.

Light INVADES.

Light invaded my soul last night. Sitting in the back row among hundreds at New Life Church, LIGHT invaded the very fibers of my being.

Darkness around me so deep, I couldn’t see the child sitting on my lap. Darkness in my heart so deep, I couldn’t see the Christ we came to worship.

And then it came. Angels lighting up a black sky. Shepherds running in hope of a glimpse of glory. A star blazing in the night, blotting out the shadows. Three strangers giving up everything to follow its beckoning. A manger glowing with the luster of day. A baby cradled in the arms of an lowly carpenter. Famous words fill the space around me, and finally, finally the veil lifts and I remember. I remember why He came! I remember why we are celebrating.

I remember and the tears erupt from a heart that is finally waking up. The scene unfolds before me of that Holy night when the world was waiting in darkness. A thrill of hope arises as a weary world rejoices.

Why?

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

And oh, how I fall to my knees.

Do you hear it? These aren’t just words. This is the key to the prison cell of the heart. This is the gulp of air after suffocating too long in despair. This is an invasion of Light, and the darkness races to find an escape.

Oh, child of the King, will you let Light invade your heart today? Will you allow it to invade your home? The shadows of fear, depression, hopelessness, anger, anxiety, and loneliness will run as Light absorbs the mess. The star that blazed above a humble home those many years ago beckons you today. Come and find the King who radiates in the brilliance of HOPE.

He came to invade our darkness. He came to invade our hopelessness. He came to invade our plans, our dreams, our days. He came to invade our hearts.

May this Christmas be an invasion of Light. And may we invade the darkness of this world with the Light of the King!

Where are you?

The lights dance on boughs of green, twinkling in the shadows of the evening. The snow floats effortlessly through the stillness—the death of winter swallowed up in a cloak of white. The Jesse Tree stands reverent, unwrapping the wonder of ancient promises fulfilled in a swaddled bundle.

We’re reading the scriptures, hanging the ornaments, anticipating the arrival of the manger-sized King. Small eyes dance as the days draw near. Little hearts rejoice as the Dawn approaches.

And I sit here going through the motions not feeling a thing.

Signs of Jesus swirl around me, yet I can’t find Him. I’m searching for Him, but for some reason He seems just out of reach. I’m singing the songs, reading the books, remembering the story, but the wonder has vanished. Has Christmas become so normal that I can’t see the Christ who wrapped Himself in flesh in it anymore?

And then it hits me. Maybe I’m trying so hard to find Him that I’ve forgotten the miracle of glory-filled manger. Mary wasn’t looking for God when Gabriel showed up. God came after her. He found Zechariah that day in the temple. He found Joseph in the confusion of his heartbreak. He found the shepherds in the fields of their routine.

Isn’t it God who is looking for me? Isn’t that what He’s been doing since the beginning?

That day in the garden—in the cool of the day when God comes looking for Adam and Eve.

“Where are you” he pleads.

Where are you today? He’s come looking for you. In the cool of the day, as you hide in your shame, he hasn’t stopped looking.

He finds Hagar in the wilderness of despair.

He finds Jacob in the depths of a dream.

He finds Moses in the desert of shame.

He finds Samuel in the stillness of night.

He finds Jonah in the belly of a whale.

He finds Ezekiel in the shackles of captivity.

What about that sheep—the lost one—out in the dark, cold storm of life. The Shepherd goes looking. He’s in hot pursuit of the one he won’t give up on. That’s what Jesus said he came for. Not to be found, but to be the one who find us.

For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.

Luke 19:10

This is the miracle. The wonder of the straw-lined cradle. God came looking for us!

He doesn’t wait for us to come looking for Him. He’s already looking for us. Maybe if we would stop and turn around, we’d realize that He’s been right there all along.

Do know that there is a King who is madly, irrevocably, and unabashedly in love with you?  It’s a make your knees tremble, heart skip a beat, do crazy things kind of love.  And He is zealously, passionately, and jealously pursuing your heart. Right now. Today. Will you fall into His arms?

The REAL Question

We’re sitting in the living room filling shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child when he asks the question. Filling shoeboxes that will tell children in a far-off land that a Savior loves them.

They can barely contain the excitement, those kids. They picked out each item, fighting the urge to ask to keep it. Wanting to give, but also wanting to receive. I tell them how the shoeboxes will fly across the world and into the arms of children just like them. I’m sitting there proud, feeling good about getting my kids involved. Patting myself on the back for giving to those in need.

 “This will be the only Christmas present they receive,” I tell them in an effort to make them understand what a great thing we are doing. Trinkets from the dollar store stuffed into shoeboxes that will fill empty arms—while Black Friday ads convince us that our overflowing arms don’t have enough.

That’s when he asks me. That’s when my world stands still.

“Why can’t we give them more?”

What do I say to a heart that doesn’t understand the ways of the world? How do I look into those innocent eyes and tell him how hard it is to raise a family in these troubling economic times? Should I list all of the reasons why? Do I tell him that we can’t because each child only gets one shoebox, and it wouldn’t be fair if others get more than one?

So I don’t answer him…I change the subject.

Why? Because the truth is that I know why we can’t give them more, but I don’t want him to know. Deep down, I know the reasons. There are at least a thousand of them.

They are lining our closets. They are parked in our driveway. They are filling our photo albums. They are tightening our pants. They are stuffed under our beds, hidden in our cupboards, and locked in our bank accounts.

But those reasons don’t really matter. It’s not my shoes, my clothes, my cars, my lattés, or my vacations that keep my heart closed to the suffering in the world. There’s only one reason why we can’t give them more. One reason that all the other reasons stem from. This is what keeps me from answering. It’s the truth that stares back at me when I really look hard at myself.

I don’t care.

It’s ugly. It’s humiliating. It’s wrong. But what other reason do I have? What else could possibly make me bulge my home with possessions while millions fight to survive through each day? How can I hunger for more when my closet is bursting with excess? If I cared, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

If my heart broke for the lost, the hungry, and the hurting, I wouldn’t know how to stop giving.

I’m reminded of a story about four friends and a paralyzed man. Do you remember this story? It’s found in Mark 2:1-12. The house is bursting at the seams. There isn’t room for anymore. The men bring their friend to Jesus, but they can’t get through. There’s too much in the way. And the people inside, with all their religious piousness, turn a blind eye to the suffering right outside the door.

They are sitting at Jesus’ feet—ignoring the cries of the desperate.

 Isn’t it interesting that the people closest to Jesus were the ones preventing the hopeless from finding hope?  A man desperate for healing can't get to Jesus because the people claiming to want to know him better don’t care enough to move. The cries of suffering should always cause those closest to Jesus to move!

Has anything changed in the past 2000 years? Do we acknowledge the power of Christ, but hoard it for ourselves? Am I like this? Do I sit at the feet of Jesus while I ignore the suffering around me?

The question isn’t why I can’t give more. The question is why don’t I care enough to give more?

This isn’t a ploy to make you feel guilty for your possessions. I’m not suggesting we all sell everything and give it to the poor. There’s nothing wrong with the hustle and bustle of Christmas. I can’t wait to watch my children’s eyes light up with excitement when they see the presents spilling out from under the tree. But honestly, something in my life needs to—must—change.

Will you pray for me and my family? My heart is overwhelmed with a burden for something. The problem is, I don’t know what. What can one person do? I can’t sit back and wonder any longer. Oh, Jesus, give me eyes to see what you see. Give me ears to hear the sounds of suffering that I’ve turned away from for so long. Show me who! Show me how! Show me when!

But more than anything…Jesus, change my stubborn, selfish, supercilious heart into a heart that breaks for what breaks yours.