Changing our Vocabulary: Truth vs. Lies

Not long ago, a 9-year old friend of mine started responding to correction, discouragement, fatigue, or mistakes with, "I can't do good." Voice cracking, heavy sighing, and shoulders falling-- he believed this statement and gave up. If he were using towels, his room would be covered in them. 

At first I tried to turn his frown upside down with sweet talk and syrupy reinforcement. What do you mean? You're doing great! Don't give up, you're almost done! Rah! Rah! Rah!

When that didn't work I tried to ignore the phrase entirely and keep positive momentum. I explained how we all make mistakes but it's getting back up that matters. Cool, calm, rational. 

But when "I can't do good" moved from quiet heartbreak to pounding fists and stomping feet, I decided to meet it head-on. That phrase is not allowed anymore, I said. Do not let it come out of your mouth again. I didn't know what this was, but I knew it was not going to win. 

Driving home that night I thought about my life. About writing and working, about failures and unmet expectations. I felt antsy and angsty, shaking my head at myself, cowering in the face of others popping in and out of my mind. "You'll never be good enough, you're no expert," I heard them say. "You can't finish anything," "You stay in your box; this is my turf," "Ohhh, I'm sorry it's so hard for you." They glared at me, smug, condescending. I hated them. I hated myself. And then I heard my own heart say it: I can't do good. 

"You see?" His voice, clear and gentle, brought me back to the present. "You say it too, and it sounds terrible."

I did hear and I did see. With my heart sinking down to my toes I thought back to Thomas and, for the first time, started to discern the toxicity of our negative statements. Coming from him--precious, hard-working, autism-challenged him, "I can't do good" made me want to cry and wash his mouth out with soap. Not as punishment, but because those words were like poison, eating away at his mind and stealing away his hope; I wanted it away from him.  

Who told you that? I wanted to scream. Who would tell him such a thing? I puzzled. And then I remembered who. The one with no boundaries when it comes to stealing, killing, and destroying. The enemy, the father of lies. 

My mind revisited the unpleasant faces and voices from earlier, from my own life, and started talking each thing through with God. 

I feel like she hates me; like she loves to see me fail. We can't be friends. 

I feel like I really can't do well at that. I've tried and it doesn't last. 

I feel overwhelmed by this. It's too stressful and too tough.  

I feel like a nobody. I can't do good. 

Coming from me--messy, had-my-chance, not-sure-what's-coming-next me, "I/he/she/we can't do good" made me want to cry and marinate in the tears. 

Then I heard Him ask, "What's the truth behind those feelings?" After a blank moment I shrugged the question back His way, What is the truth behind my feelings? As if I'd asked for the secret behind a magic trick, step by step He flipped on the lights, exposing  what was real and what was not. 

The heart is deceitful above all things, 

and it is exceedingly perverse and corrupt and severely, mortally sick! 

Who can know it [perceive, understand, be acquainted with his own heart and mind]? 

Jeremiah 17:9 (AMP)

Our hearts, our feelings, unchecked by Truth, are not trustworthy. From some little suggestion I start to believe lies about myself and others. Based on these lies I begin to feel things--inappropriate things created by smoke and mirrors. Out of misplaced feelings I act (or failed to act). 

Thinking back to Thomas, I realized he, too, was believing a lie, feeling the effects, and acting out. I was fighting something when I'd said, "no more," and I knew I needed to start battling for my own heart as well. Why? Because when we allow lies to run laps from our minds to our hearts, out of our mouths, and back to our minds, we stop growing. Period. When we allow lies to dictate our attitudes and actions, we fall right into the "kill, steal & destroy" plan; we render ourselves useless, lifeless, paralyzed by figments of our imagination, we hold tightly to smeared images of others and let relationships fall to ruins. We need to do the hard work, not only of identifying our feelings but, of tracking down the truth and adjusting our responses, emotional and physical. You were freed from a life of slavery. It is worth the battle to claim your freedom. 

In [this] freedom Christ has made us free [and completely liberated us]; 

stand fast then, and do not be hampered and held ensnared and submit again to a yoke of slavery [which you have once put off]. 

Galatians 5:1 (AMP)

In the past two weeks I've maintained my rule about not uttering the phrase. Thomas and I have worked out a list of things he can say instead, things like, "I'm having a hard time," "I'm going to keep trying," "Oops, I messed up; now I know what to do." I remind him how smart and able and hardworking and brave he is. We have to repeat these things every day, but little by little the darkness is pushed back by truth's light. 

In my own quiet time I've started keeping a close eye on the frolicking of my mind, sometimes saying out loud, "that's not real" or "that's not true" when old feelings resurface (completely normal, right?). And I pray: Lord, would you please quiet my mind and fill it with your truth? Would you please flood my heart with your love for me and for others? May your love cover over a multitude of sins and heal all of my wounds. Would you show me in real life the truth I need to see? On more than one occasion, after praying something like this, I've received an email, call or text relieving my fears, releasing me (and others) from the lies. 

What feelings are consuming you lately? What statements frequent your speech?

What lie set those feelings ablaze and is burning down your life, relationships, health, spiritual walk, dreams, maturity/personal growth? 

What phrase(s) do you need to remove from your vocabulary right now? What truth can you replace it with? 

I don't know if this is the same with you, but in studying my go-to statements I've learned that hurt and disappointment are the most common breeding grounds for lies and misguided feelings. Sometimes I build a case against people based on circumstantial evidence following a direct hit. Self-defense. Everything he says or doesn't say "supports" my case and shapes my heart. It's not good. But sometimes, sometimes, the injury is real--by no means alleged, suspected, or assumed. Sometimes there is no opportunity to look her in the eyes and say, "that really hurt," and so I bury it and mark it with stones that inevitably grow moldy. Sometimes my feelings are based on real events, but it's still our responsibility to work through forgiveness, seek understanding, remember compassion, and let God's love be the perfect salve. 

I know you wouldn't allow your best friend or child to poison himself; decide to stop taking it down and spewing it out, yourself. Maybe you need to call someone and ask, "Is everything okay with us?"; squash those lies that have walled you in. Maybe you need to say "no" to that negative voice that talks you out of pursuing anything good or healthy. Maybe you need to know how wide and deep, how unconditional and unfailing is your Father's love for you. He would love to show you; He waits to arm you with truth. 

Why Unfinished Stories Matter

Once upon a time, my husband and I were invited to a dinner party. A gathering of friends pooling together a spread of dishes and enjoying each other's company. Additionally, we were asked to think of an inspirational story to share after dinner.

If I remember correctly, many of the stories may have warranted Oscar-worthy scores. The beautiful melodies, dramatic crescendos and swells, sweet conclusions of pleasant harmonies and definitive ending notes. We rode the waves together, our souls resting peacefully with each closure.

And then my husband shared about meeting with a friend for coffee that week. This was the story (I am not quoting exactly):

I had coffee with a friend this week and he was telling me how God's been leading him and his wife lately. He's in school and looking for a job to support his wife and baby-on-the-way. They'd been praying about work and both felt really strongly that he shouldn't accept the next offer he received [for reasons unspecified]. Sure enough, he got a call a few days later with a job offer and, even though it was really hard and didn't make a lot of sense, he turned it down. And that's basically the story.

**crickets chirping**

Someone broke the silence, I thought you were going to say that the next day he got a better offer and it all made sense. **low chuckles of agreement and confusion**

Chris:

Nope. There was no call, no new direction, and no reason from God about why he couldn't have accepted that offer. I know there's no real end to the story, but I was really inspired by it--it stuck with me all week--because of their faith, because they're waiting and being obedient even though it doesn't make sense at all.

Friends, I don't think there's a Hollywood soundtrack for this. If this is how a film ended, it would be smeared with truly rotten tomatoes by critics and audiences alike. We seem to tolerate a weak beginning or middle as long as we have closure. Unless, as in Chris's story and last year's film, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (otherwise known as The Hobbit: part 2 of 3) there is no real ending...because you know it's the middle of a 3-part, complete story. It had no ending because it's not the end!

I love that Chris saw this in our friend's story. What else did he see? Himself. Me. Us. He was inspired to keep persevering when it doesn't make sense and when answers don't seem to come and when people around us think we're morons for not taking action into our own hands. He saw the true beauty of obedience and was reminded that this is not the end of the story.

It would do us  all a world of good to stop hiding in the unfinished middle of our stories and start sharing the tension, the grit, and the irrational. Why do we keep such a tight lid on our trials and plans? Why do we wait until we've reached a satisfactory "end" to reveal what's been happening?

Here are some of my reasons. (I warn you, none of them are good.) 

I keep my unfinished business to myself when:

*my emotional response to circumstances is so terribly raw I'm afraid I will push people away. You can't handle the truth! kind of stuff. 

*my situation is the polar opposite of people around me and I believe the only responses I'll get are blank stares, stupid cliches, and unsolicited advice. And I'll be labeled as a social pariah. I choose: none of the above. 

*I'm not 100% convinced God is going to do what (I think) He said and I don't want to look dumb if it doesn't work out. Yikes, but true. 

*circumstances have me completely in the dark and I have no words to describe, share, hope, or praise during that time. 

*I have an end goal in mind and don't want anyone to get in my way with their opinions, reactions, or conflicting plans. I'll let them know when it's done and then, what can they do?

Pride, fear, and self-absorption, plain and simple. Deceptive, destructive.  

No one likes to admit he's struggling or feeling devastated by thwarted plans. Out of our mouths fly a variety of "no sweat" explanations for why it's not that bad, how we expected this and are armed with Plans B-through-W. Or we stay quiet and refuse to let on. 

As neighbors and friends, we divert our eyes from dirty laundry airing next door and tell ourselves it's to protect their dignity. We'll smile and nod approvingly when their yard has been cleared and mowed and re-lanscaped. All's well that ends well!

But in waiting for the end--be it fairytale, predictable, or divinely miraculous--we all miss out on seeing what makes the end so sweet. Let me tell you, you who are in the middle, thinking about giving up, and trying to walk it alone: God is in the middle. You and I know that these trials are not the stuff of textbooks or survival handbooks. This is the stuff of Psalms, of Daniel in the lion's den, of the prophets, and of Paul in chains. In the midst of the fire we choose our identity: Burned or Refined. In the middle mire we learn Who's in control, we see what's real, we learn the hard lessons of trust. 

This part of the story must be told. From those who are going through it, we need to learn the posture of humility and the depth of perseverance. Fragrant laments teach us about faithfulness, their melodies stretch our perspective. We need to learn to recognize the fruit that blooms from obedience. We have an opportunity to speak into the unfinished and say, Don't be afraid! This is not the end! I see God with you! There is no freedom in pride, no faith in fear, no surrender in self-absorption. Open up and share; sit down and listen. 

I pray that we will recognize God in an unfinished story this week and find inspiration from the work that's being done. I hope you will have fresh eyes for your own unfinished story and be emboldened to share it now and stop waiting for the socially-acceptable ending. And I hope that when you reach the end of your story, you will only be able to point to God as having been its author, perfecter and finisher.

While You Wait: Strengthen Your Core

Waiting can be utterly exhausting. Prolonged suspense, failed attempts, seemingly missed opportunities, an endless string of red lights drain you. 

Have you ever lowered yourself to the ground in push-up position? {not as often as you try to avoid it, right? I'm with you.} Have you propped yourself up in push-up position and just h.e.l.d...i.t...t.h.e.r.e...?

It's harder than it looks. 

Waiting is not passive--it is no place for twiddling thumbs, wishing on dandelions, or complacent recline. Waiting is a posture of suspension and focus. With eyes fixed straight ahead and heads lifted, we breathe deeply, we engage our core. And we hold. 

According to Mayo Clinic, strengthening the muscles surrounding the pelvis and trunk ("the core")  improves balance and stability for exercise and daily activity. About.com credits a strong core with stabilizing the spine and creating "a solid base of support" enabling "powerful movements of the extremities." When your arms start to shake and collapse seems imminent you have to rely on the strength of your core. When you feel your toes slipping beneath you your mind needs to know that your base is solid. 

It's in this state of suspension that we gain strength. It's in this holding pattern that we learn perseverance. It's in this posture--low to the ground--that we understand humility and begin to see wisdom. 

I very much enjoy running. Not so much the first mile, or the third, or the tenth, but all the steps in between allow me to exercise the wisdom I've gained from emotional & spiritual long-suffering and invite my body to endure likewise. The same is true in reverse: often times lessons gleaned from running--hurdles jumped and walls broken through--come to mind when I find myself faced with a new trial. In my experience, resilience and stamina are the by-products of a sturdy midsection, a secure identity at the center of my being. 

Trials and marathons test the strength of your core. They expose your weaknesses and push you to draw from a well deep within. You may be able to run some hills with the strength of your calves, you might be successful for a time by chanting, I think I can, I think I can. But when you realize you are in a state of suspension and control escapes you, you will need to lean on the inner strength that only comes from God. 

  

Most likely you've got some time on your hands, don't wait to strengthen your base. Instead, while you wait, here are some exercises for stabilizing your spiritual spine (aka: backbone, courage of convictions column) and building a solid support base for enduring emotional and spiritual trials. 

1. Center yourself in Christ. Seek The Giver, not the gift. Enter into relationship with Him, humbly acknowledging that apart from Him you can do nothing, but by His strength you can do all things. Get to know His purpose for your life, His dreams for you. Let Him plant you to flourish in His courts. Stand firm, grounded by His unfailing love for you. 

2. Love Others. When you're struggling and tired, when you feel thoroughly mauled and discouraged it's easy to become self-centered if you're not actively seeking a neighbor to love to the degree that you love yourself. You cry out with "unprecedented" depths of despair, wallowing in comparison and feelings of helplessness. Your core gets mushy and giggly from sweet & salty bites of comfort. But this will not do. Nope, it's time to wipe the crumbs off your shirt and engage in meaningful relationship with others. So you don't have it all figured out--neither do they--but despite what's happening in your life  His grace is sufficient for you. After all, it is more blessed to give than to receive. 

3. Renew your mind with His Word; be transformed by His truth. When you're holding a deep squat or pushing through that 3-mile wall it's the Truth that will keep you upright. When negative thoughts flood your mind: I can't do this, I've never been good at this, I'm too tired, I want to quit, What's the point anyway? you must stomp out every lie with the truth. You must know who you are in Christ and believe that He is strengthening your frame and widening your path. You must replace the old potty-talk with His words and allow them to transform and refine. When you plop down into push-up position and declare, "I'm telling you, my arms are not that strong!" and your trainer looks you square in the eyes and says, "Your arms are not that weak," it changes you. You won't make it through hardship with positive self-talk based on self-reliance; you will, however, find sustenance in every word of God. 

4. Examine your life and allow God to make good use of this time. Waiting is not about punishment or condemnation. It is not a sign of God-forsakenness or a game of favorites. Countless stories in the Bible indicate that prolonged waiting and severe trials are often precious times of preparation, redemption, provision, and refinement; very personal attention from God. Examination and exercise are not means of earning that thing you're waiting for; both demonstrate humility and reverence for The One who has called you into this desert for a very specific reason. Engage in His plan and use your time wisely. Ask Him to examine your heart and reveal any bad seeds He'd like to uproot and replace with fruit seeds. Lift up every area of your life and seek His will--daily priorities, relationships, the food you eat, physical ailments, future dreams. Keep your eyes focused on your own path and let Him guide your steps. 

When your feet start throbbing and your shoulder muscles burn, remember that your core is strong. When the going gets tough, remember who you are. When you don't know how much longer you have to hold the posture and sweat threatens to steal your grip, take a deep breath and tell yourself it's not over yet. In trial, steady your mind on the truth. Consider the firm foundation of Christ at your center, enjoy the blessings of loving others, recall the power of your mind renewed by His Word, rest in the purity of a life examined and shaped by God. 

While you wait, strengthen your core. Don't waste your time raging against what might have been, resisting the special call to be trained by God. Engage your core. And hold. 

Beauty and Truth for Mother's Day

I've always enjoyed Mother's Day. From an early age I delighted in crafting lovely cards, finding "perfect" gifts, planning breakfast-in-bed, and making sure all my siblings were on their best behavior for Mom's big day. Memories of my dad and uncles cooking and serving their wives a beautiful meal are impressed upon my heart; this is what real, loving men do {serve, bless the mothers of their children}. 

Her children rise up and call her blessed (happy, fortunate, and to be envied); 

and her husband boasts of and praises her, [saying],

Many daughters have done virtuously, nobly, and well [with the strength of character that is steadfast in goodness], but you excel them all. 

Proverbs 31:28-29

Honoring the woman who denies herself a thousand times a day makes sense. It should be done on Mother's Day and every day. 

But for many people, my adult-self included, Mother's Day can be emotionally complex.  

I will never forget the first year I sat in church, wiggling uncomfortably in my chair and fighting back tears as the pastor invited all the mothers to stand. Applause roared in waves as they identified the mother with the most children! the mother with the oldest children! the newest mother! only {finally} concluding when each mother had received a rose. That was my first year of infertility---reality crashing in: I was not part of the club, there is no "A" for effort, no honorable mention for desire. This is a hard pill to swallow. It's no one's fault. It just is. 

Like pregnancy announcements, my general preference for Mother's Day celebration is this: If you feel led to acknowledge me in some way {though you certainly don't need to and most times it's best not to} please leave my struggles out of it. 

I want to celebrate you as a mother. When I sing "Celebration" and you echo with "Everybody Hurts" things get weird. That discerning vertebra at the base of my skull starts aching, indicating cloud cover, predicting imminent rainfall on your parade. In a moment when all I want to do is rejoice over you and affirm what God has done, we are all left feeling awkward. Until of course I break out into an Austin Powers dance tribute and redirect the spotlight {works every.time.}. 

Joking {and coping} aside, it's tricky for all of us. I know your intentions are golden. Motherhood is not an idol for you; neither a victory platform for passing on the family name nor an entrance ticket into "real" womanhood. You are not the women of the Bible who provoke, despise, and harbor contempt for your barren sister. You remember, you care. You are fruitful and lovely. 

Charm and grace are deceptive, and beauty is vain [because it is not lasting], but a woman who reverently and worshipfully fears the Lord, she shall be praised! 

Proverbs 31:30

So how do we do this dance? 

If you know someone who hurts {outwardly or not} on Mother's Day, consider simple acts of remembrance. Keep it private and genuine. Hug a little longer. Give a warm & steady squeeze of her hands. Send an sweet "I love you." Try "thank you," or "I'm so glad you're here," instead of "thanks for celebrating with me" {the latter suggests a low opinion of her character}. Assure through tender action, "Nothing changes who you are or what you mean to me." 

If you struggle on Mother's Day, be gentle with yourself and generous with others. Guard your heart. Clothe yourself with radiant confidence in God. Receive quiet recognition with grace and gratitude. Love deeply and celebrate with those around you. Humble yourself {say the hard "yes"} and He will lift you up. 

The fight against self-pity and depression intensifies when days like this stir up hunger pangs. In these moments we have to fight against the fleshy aches, the temptation to crumble. In these moments the Lord reminds me that I don't survive on bread alone {sustenance that burns off, is temporal} but on every word that comes from God {life-giving sustenance that endures}. 

Remember what He has said:

*I will never leave you, nor forsake you. 

*Be still and know that I am God.

*I chose you and appointed you to bear fruit- fruit that lasts. 

*The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.

*Grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ... know this love that surpasses knowledge.

*I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  

We don't have to be discouraged or depressed. We don't have to avoid each other or be full of dread. God is the giver of life. This is a day He has made, we can rejoice and be glad. I celebrate all the beautiful women who give their bodies and lives to their children! I praise God for the children He has made! I am thankful for His promises! 

Happy Mother's Day!

I will sing the Lord’s praise, for He has been good to me.

"If I Buy New Jeans" & Other Silly Superstitions

Four years ago I needed new jeans. The faithfully rotated favorites begged to retire; an ambush by Stacy & Clinton from TLC's What Not to Wear would have been completely justified. 

"I really need new jeans," I told a co-worker. 
"I do, too," she replied. 
"I just can't bite the bullet. But my jeans are in bad shape," I said. 
"I know! Because as soon as you pay good money for new jeans you'll get pregnant," she said.
Agreeing, I finished the thought, "Yep, and then they won't fit, I'll have to buy maternity jeans and who knows if I'll ever fit into the new pair again. So frustrating!"

We were both trying to get pregnant and somehow this line of reasoning made perfect sense to us. 

In the years that followed I purchased a few very inexpensive pairs of jeans to cautiously fill the gap. It wasn't until six months ago that I finally made a more significant investment. 

***

This is not a promotion for expensive jeans. I'm a sucker for a great deal and couldn't care less about name brands. This is about life--living in the present, being fully present, and learning to laugh at silly superstitions. 

We can turn almost anything into an "If, Then" statement, come to believe it because of scientific wording, and then stand on it as some of life's great truths. 

"If I buy new jeans, then I'll get pregnant." 

I hope you're laughing but if not, let me dissect the scientific jeans statement a little further. Time proved to me that the purchase of jeans (at any price point) does not in fact cause pregnancy, so you don't have to worry about my reasoning there. What  I came to see as a true concern was the powerful "therefore" I added to the end of such statements:

"If I buy new jeans, then I'll get pregnant, therefore I will keep my ill-fitting pair and wait until I can buy the maternity jeans."

In this case, "therefore" = life zapper. 

***

Last fall I came upon a greeting card by Life Inspired that brought me to teary freedom from the silly pregnancy superstitions we accept as truth and allow as Dictator of our behavior and overall wellbeing. On the front of the card was a simple quotation from an unknown source:

Between the wish and the thing life lies waiting.  

Inside:

Live your dreams.

***

"If I buy new jeans" is not the only ridiculous thing I've believed regarding my fertility over the years. Here's a list of my personal favorites that I'm sure many of you will recognize:

*If you take that new job, then you'll get pregnant.

*Now that you're not working full time, you'll get pregnant.

*If you go on that vacation, then you'll get pregnant.

*If you start writing about infertility, then you'll get pregnant.

*If you work out regularly, then you'll get pregnant.
*If you stop working out so much, then you'll get pregnant.

And a few closely-related claims that are more scientifically based and always well-intended, however equally unhelpful to those of us who have learned the heart-wreching way that pregnancy is not mere science (a truth for another post entirely!):


*If you just relax, then you'll get pregnant.
*If you chart your ovulation, then you'll get pregnant.
*If you stop charting your ovulation, then you'll get pregnant.
*Everyone who has sat in this chair has gotten pregnant, so if you sit it in, you'll be next.
*If you go hang out with pregnant women and new moms, their hormones will latch onto you and you'll get pregnant.
*If you stand on your head after intercourse, then you'll get pregnant.
*If you stop drinking coffee [or eating or drinking any particular thing], then you'll get pregnant.

There are adjustments each of us struggling with infertility will make regarding diet, lifestyle, and wellness. I have made quite a few. But these days, before making any adjustments, before I "do" or "don't," I ask myself these questions:

(1) Is this adjustment based on truth?
(2) Is this adjustment based on fear (aka: superstition)?
(3) Is this what God wants for my journey?
(4) Does this adjustment allow life (present life) to abound or does it squelch life?

If I had stopped drinking coffee 5-1/2 years ago "just in case" I might be pregnant on any given day, I would be so unhappy today. Fearful, resentful, suffocated. Not because coffee determines my happiness (per se) but because fear always suppresses life. 

I should have bought new jeans--good ones--four years ago and rocked them until they could rock no more. Not because jeans would fill my desire for a baby but because life is happening NOW and I don't need to postpone living. 

There will be a day for maternity wear and the pregnancy diet but until that day I need to give glory to God by being fully alive here and now. And so do you. 

Between the wish and the thing life lies waiting. 

Get out there and live it. 

xoxo

 The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows). 

John 10:10 AMP

Why I'm Still Dreaming

I'm not sure what you're dreaming about or believing for but I know perseverance is no walk in the park. 

{Unless your neighborhood park is comprised of dim and lonely narrow roads, sparsely vegetated and frequented by hecklers.}

Laying down precious dreams and believing that they will return to me more perfectly shaped, timed, and purposed than I ever could have planned is no small gesture. Surrender requires courage and willingness to enter into the Unknown. Trust requires complete fixation on Truth, Love, and Hope. Perseverance is not a straight-road jog as much as it is a sweaty run through a muddy, snake-infested obstacle course. 

To others this dreaming & believing can seem ridiculous. Irrational, illogical, lazy, idealistic, uncomfortable and inconvenient for them as Community. Why would you keep believing for something you're not seeing? When will you face the facts? They miss the {vast} forest for the trees. 

I can't explain why. I can't begin to fathom how. I certainly can't predict when. 

I just know Who, and I know He is able. 

Things don't always turn out the way I'd originally dreamed, and letting go is constant loss. But maybe some dreams were meant all along to be much bigger than I knew; a beautiful opportunity for Him to become greater and me to become less.

This is where heaven and earth collide:

I lift my hands, I give my life.

This is how my weary heart stays alive.

The Redeemer, song by Sanctus Real (below)

I still dream because I still believe. 

I believe God is who he says he is. 

I believe He is able to do immeasurably more than I can imagine. 

I believe He is faithful. 

I believe He honors those who love him and do not give up. 

Be encouraged, weary and faithful ones. He sees you, He sees me. Our dreams, our lives are in His hands and we will not be disappointed. 

A Wardrobe for Now: In with the New

In with the New

Pain softens our hard hearts. It opens us to a more genuine and reverential love for God. It causes us to remember each other and our need for courageous love. 

For the Hurting, there is good news. In seasons of grief God is able to sow seeds of hope that, in season, spring up as praise and joy over new life thoroughly germinated. As we trade in the old armor pieces--selfishness, vanity, comfort, pride, self-sufficiency--He robes us from the inside, out with right-standing and security.  

For the not-Hurting, there is perspective. In her thoughtful and loving Letters to the Wounded {#2}, Ann Voskamp writes, "It is the wounded ones who makes us heal and the hurting ones who make us honest and it is the broken ones who put us back together again and it is the scarred ones who make the Body of Christ sensitive."

Love God and love each other. 

On a given day there are so many ways we might choose to handle pain--yours, mine, theirs. I think most choices end safely, "no harm no foul," but I am happy to share the lingering effects of pain transformation + courageous love as they were choicely paired on a given Tuesday.
   
We walked into a clothing store- she, widowed, and I, barren. It was a mini-retreat; a time to enjoy life because heartbreak has taught us that life is special. 

Discerning fingers rapidly sifted hangers, pausing only periodically to graze the length of a fabric and consider its potential, picture its fit at work or play. In a sea of black & white, rich colors and playful shapes caught our eyes. Too daring? Too safe? Indecision. Uncertainty. Which one of these is me? The new me?

We met Julie, a soft-spoken and savvy, unfailingly helpful {sales}woman. 

In small, curtained rooms we put on new clothes, looking ourselves over to see what Time and Pain and Healing had done. Does this look right? Is this me? Julie assessed quickly, expertly sized, exchanged, accessorized. From 'safe' to 'fun' to 'ridiculous,' garments flew about. 

"That looks so good on you!"
"That is so fun!"
"I love that on you."

We said these things, we heard these things. We pondered their truth, taking in our shape, our condition, wrestling uncomfortable memories of what brought us to this place. 

They told me, "You can wear anything; look at your body!" Joy.
 "Too bad it doesn't work the way it's supposed to on the inside." Grief.

Seedlings of hope stirred in my heart:

The Lord will comfort [her] again and have pity on her ruins. 

Her desert will blossom like Eden, her barren wilderness like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found there. 

Songs of thanksgiving will fill the air. 1

We told her, "You.look.amazing. Truly stunning."  Joy.
She choked on the words until tears came down and said, "Without him at home, I don't have anyone to tell me I look nice anymore." Grief. 

Hope stirring:

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy. 2

*We could have squared our shoulders, darted back into our rooms and pulled the curtains on oozing wounds. 
*We might have started the game of comparison, "At least you have (a husband, stretch marks, children, a booming career)." 
*We might have burrowed into ourselves: self-protected, guarded the story-in-progress. 
*Or with a recitation of the old adage about clouds and silver linings, Julie could have pushed the moment away. 

Instead, Beauty unfolded and Love had its moment.  

Tears came, arms embraced. Broken hearts bled while courageous hands caught the overflow. Julie shared her own wounds, and we were able to cover and be covered with grace. Love reached out to touch Pain and ushered in Healing. Pain reached out in love and found Strength.  

Our gravest disappointments lay scattered amidst piles of clothes. Our plans intertwined with His purpose. 

Love God and love each other. 

New clothes don't erase pain or make us {truly} beautiful, but that day they were expressions of hope and transformation, buds of praise and righteousness springing up, and an agent for love.  

We've faced the hard thing, we've cried bitter tears. The Old has been stripped away and now we know what's precious. What we've sown in tears will be, for others, a lovely and refreshing harvest of healing. And He clothes us in the New; we are radiant and we are His.

My soul will exult in my God; 

For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,

He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,

As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,

And as a bride adorns herself with jewels. 3

1- Isaiah 51:3, NASB

2- Psalms 68:5, NASB 
3- Isaiah 61:10, NASB

A Wardrobe for Now: Out with the Old

Out with the Old

Over the years, the Lord has been leading me to understand His ultimate purpose for us:  to love Him and love each other. In my life, pain has been the primary vehicle for aligning me more closely with His purpose. 

I don't know about your experience with pain, but in mine it is a place of undressing. All the fluff and filth, messy priorities and masked pride are stripped away. In this bare-bones space, if I'm willfully present, allowing the heat to refine, I become acutely aware of my need for Him. 

When I hit roadblocks, feel jolted by The Unexpected, register a stabbing discomfort, I slow down and sober up. My staple cloak of Control and baubles of Self-Sufficiency are lost. The hardened soil of my heart is turned over, and I recognize my need for others. In a dressed-down state, real and dependent upon God, I become available to others as well.  

Love God and love each other. 

Not that this reaction to pain is always my first. I think our generation has developed such a paralyzing fear of pain that we've lost respect for its transformative potential in both the Wounded and the Caregiver. From a foreword to a book about natural childbirth comes, in my opinion, a perfect assessment of our culture's way with pain:
  

"One of the downfalls of our excessively comfortable society is the idea that pain is a bad thing to be avoided at all costs. We have built great pharmaceutical empires bent on masking, subduing, and eradicating pain, even emotional pain, from our lives. We are taught to view pain as an enemy, not a teacher. But pain is the right hand of growth and transformation. Pain is in the history of all human wisdom."1

I wonder if the truth about our aversion to pain is only fully realized when we, in times of distress, find ourselves (a source of pain) socially isolated (exiled?) due to society's incompetence with and intolerance to pain. (?) Avoidance at all costs; certainly a "loving others" FAIL and a missed opportunity to witness the miracle of deliverance.

Love God and love each other.

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it's the Lord's purpose that prevails. 2 

We have so many plans for our lives, don't we? If we're honest, none of them involve pain-- yours, mine, or theirs--and if we live virtually pain-free, we must be doing okay for ourselves, right? 

Beyond ourselves though, I can't help but notice an increase in suffering; the groans growing so loud we can hardly claim ignorance. Death, cancer, unemployment, infertility, exploitation, chronic illness, autism, divorce...to name very few. Heart-wrenching stories are close to us, if not upon us. I wonder about the undeniable prevalence of pain and marvel at our resistance to engage in its Purpose.

Love God and love each other. 

It's intimidating and inconvenient, I know. What if you say the wrong thing? What if you make it worse? How can you offer compassion, given your relative inexperience? What if you simply don't want this moment of pain to steal from your joy? Friend, love is courageous. In its self-sacrificing form you cannot love incorrectly. 

Similarly, in my raw state, I, too, am called to love courageously: rejoicing with others, considering the validity of their pain, demonstrating by outstretched hand joyful hope and patient endurance. In its self-sacrificing form, loving others will not add to my affliction. 

So be strong and courageous, all you who hope in the Lord!

Psalm 31:24

Love God and love each other.   

I am not defined by the pain in my life. But by each hardship I have been changed, transformed by the discomfort of letting His purpose prevail over my plans. In throwing out the Old {selfish threads that they were}, He provides me with a wardrobe for now; garments reflecting New life and real love.

For as the earth brings forth its sprouts,

And as a garden causes the things sown in it to spring up,

So the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise

To spring up before all the nations.3

To be continued: "In with the New"...

1- Ani DiFranco in her Foreword for Birth Matters: a midwife's manifesta by Ina May Gaskin
2- Proverbs 16:9, NIV 

3- Isaiah 61:11, NASB