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. 

Taking Back Confidence

I am only one, but still I am one. 

I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; 

and because I cannot do everything, 

I will not refuse to do something that I can do. 

-Helen Keller*

We have to stop meeting like this. Me and the computer, in the middle of the night. 

And yet here I am in its glow, prompted out of bed, my heart flooded with words. The sheets unable to contain me, the pillows lie unresponsive to my fists, failing to soothe or quiet my mind. 

I know what this means, where it leads, and even though it's late and I wonder if I didn't bring this on myself with caffeine, I'm thankful He's brought me back. 

Summer has officially come and gone and though this site has no record of it, much has transpired. In my mind I've written to you all along. 

The truth is I've spent a lot of time fighting battles and recovering from battles. I've been restless at times, desperately wanting a green light or open door to invite me into something new. I pray to see that thin line between personal responsibility and self-sufficiency so I might stop stepping outside of grace. I've been tired of looking at myself in the mirror, believing lies about who I am and tucking myself, my story, away into hiding. 

One of my biggest battles {dare I say this?} is with the blogging world. Did you know there are approximately one million essentials for blogging "success"? Okay, not that many, but the list seems to multiply as fast as dry yeast proofs, making writers and sites puffier alike. Are the days of finding entertainment, enrichment and inspiration through words alone truly gone? Are all writers now slaves to their social media platforms and mastery of photography & graphic design? Would my readers really multiply if  I offered giveaways or link-ups? "No," One might say, "your readers would multiply if you had a stronger network and were actually a 'somebody.'" ...

And thus, choosing defeat over faith, I've been hiding away, reverting back to old patterns of fearful, self-protecting, power-playing silence that are, frankly, suffocating. Why pour out my silly thoughts when the Real Writers, if they were to ever read my blog, would laugh and scoff? If I won't ever be called Success, why do it? (right?)

But God's been speaking to me about names, about how I don't need the world to call me Success because He calls me His. I am His Artwork, I am His Vessel. I am His Child, I am His Redeemed. Because of Him I am Enough, Gifted, Powerful, Lovable & Loving, I am Warrior and Steadfast. 

Do not, therefore, fling away your fearless confidence, for it carries a great and glorious compensation of reward. 

Hebrews 10:35 AMP

Battle ensues when someone or something sets itself up against God and His purposes. Sometimes that someone is the enemy, coaxing me to give up my knowledge of Him who calls and empowers. Sometimes that someone is me, my weary  flesh longing after earthly accolades and progress. Whoever you're battling, know that there is freedom and victory in Christ. We don't need to be burdened or angry, we don't need to shrink back or throw in the towel. We only need His truth to light the way and free our feet to walk toward His call. Whether He intends for us to stand upon a widely visible platform or within a small radius of pointed power, it is He who assigns significance, and His name that achieves any good and lasting thing. 

I write because I can't help but tell of the work God has done and is doing in me so that you might see Him dancing over you in a similar way. I write to let you know that you don't have to live in captivity to the deceitful, looping tapes in your head. I write because God compels me to do so; I am "louder" than my nature prefers because I'd rather be called Faithful by the Lord than Trending by the world. 

Ultimately, it doesn't matter if you remember my name, my blog address, my pictures or graphics. What matters is that, at the perfect moment, you say to yourself, "I remember reading a story about how God..." revealed Himself, intervened, saved, freed, healed, provided, blessed, did the impossible. What matters is that through my words you are increasingly convinced of His goodness, that your heart learns to praise Him and trust in His power and love. Through my story may you hear God speak to you, call your name, and embolden you to hold onto your fearless confidence in Him one day at a time. 

I'm excited to open my summer notes and share the happenings. You might not see many pictures, and I might post on the "wrong" day for maximum traffic, but I pray your hungry heart finds what it needs. 

*Read more: http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/25-awesome-perseverance-quotes/#ixzz2fnC8Rv6Q

Little Bird

Yesterday I ran beneath your trees, my breath was heavy and my mind busy sifting through memories. A soft wind bent their branches and I found myself showered by delicate purple blooms. Underfoot they cushioned my path, overhead they danced, and He whispered your name in my ear. 

Little Bird, you are a child of promise--the rainbow after a flood. You are a reminder that God is good, that He has compassion on all He has made. {Do you know that?}

Every year your trees bloom; without delay they awake full and strong, blessing the air and the ground with sweet lilac petals, pearls of joyful grace. At the peak of their splendor you were born, child of promise. He called you out, Little Bird, and gifted you with song. You might not remember but His song has always been in your heart--that glorious light melody of joy and redemption. It's been in you since the beginning. All creation pauses to hear you sing because in it, we hear the voice of God. 

I know you're all too aware that one day we each must learn to fly. We each must face the shifting seasons and undercurrents, yield to larger animals & care for smaller ones, learn what shelter is safe, and who will hear our cry. Everyone searches for their voice. But do you know, Little Bird, that your voice was never lost? Do you know that the One who gave you life holds you in His hand and has not been deaf to one note you've sung? Don't be discouraged by those who have heard and ignored, or heard and taken advantage. Your Lord suffered the same loss, frustration and pain, and He has always heard you. 

He sees you and He knows you, pure Little Bird. He has not meant for you to feel hungry or afraid. He has not meant for you to believe you are on your own, that you must make your own way or find security in anything other than Him. He has not meant for you to be overwhelmed; He has only meant for you to know He is God.  

He knows your heart and mind--merry Little Bird--He created you to delightedly flutter about from one branch to the next, chirp! peep!, open to harmonizing with all the other little birds and love life fully. Passionate is your heart, you fly with steady cadence toward justice and hope. You sing His song in the core of your being, do you know that? 

I have always heard Him in you.  

Precious Little Bird, do not put your trust in branches or nests, in gopher holes or mountain tops. Do not rely on the strength of your wings and don't believe that your wings have been clipped. Don't waste your time, young Little Bird, searching for who you are in dog houses, lions' dens, or chicken coops. Don't overturn the nest of your youth hoping your feathers might change color. No home is perfect--they are all crowded with feathers and poop, all chaotic with cries for food and warmth. Imperfect because we all forget who we are and what truly satisfies. No, in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path {home}. Trust Him and those who sing of Him; any other song will not sit well with your soul. 

Your trees reminded me how extravagantly and passionately He loves you. They reminded me how blessed we are to have you among us, singing your life-giving song of truth and redemption. They reminded me of His faithfulness--how He promised me He would never let you go. 

In case you don't know: you are fearfully and wonderfully made, marked with glorious purpose and gifting, a light. 

In case you've forgotten: you are gracious and loving, gentle and honest, 
you are sensitive and peaceable yet you hold your own in defense of the truth, 
you laugh with ease, a soft hum is always on your lips,
you know that to everything there is a season,
you are patient and attentive, you give your time wholly and generously,
you know what is good, you do not settle for good enough, 
you love sincerely, with mercy that covers over a multitude of sins,
you are gifted with the voice of God, your Father has put His song of power in you.  

You are His, Little Bird, and your future is bright. Though it may be hard to see or sense Him with you, listen for His song rising up in you and know He is God. 

Live in the light and all your years will be golden. 

With all my love...

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

"31 Days of Forgiveness {through the eyes of grace}"

Forgiveness. 

Over the past weeks I've had the privilege of reading a lovely new book by Tracie Stier-Johnson called 31 Days of Forgiveness {through the eyes of grace}, a Biblically-sound yet real {honest, compassionate, truthful} exploration of a weighty topic very few people initiate with true love and grace. 

For me, the word "forgiveness" brings to heart feelings of both shame and bitterness. Shame for my own shortcomings, bitterness for festering wounds inflicted by others. 31 Days of Forgiveness reminded me that neither shame nor bitterness belongs in my life because we were meant to be free and, without coincidence, forgiveness brings freedom. 


Tracie's book tackles this heavy matter of the heart, and all our questions and reservations that go along with it, with a lovely balance of grace and truth. The book is a thorough and compassionate exploration of all things forgiveness: what it is, what it's not, why it's necessary, the how-to's, and includes powerful, real-life stories of forgiveness, demonstrating that through Him, we truly can forgive anything. Without using this platform as a tell-all, Tracie's personal experience with disappointment, pain, and regret, as well as her time spent with the Lord for healing and redemption is evident, making her a trustworthy companion for this journey. 

31 Days of Forgiveness is comprised of very short chapters for each day, with a bonus study guide to help you fully digest the profound truths of that day. This book is a resource I will read and work through every time I find myself holding onto anger, bitterness, or resentment. It would be great to work through with a trusted friend or small group. 


This book was, for me, a personal invitation to explore a path that would lead the inmost portion of my heart to profound healing. I love this quote used on Day 10:

Forgiveness does not exonerate the perpetrator. Forgiveness liberates the victim. It’s a gift you give yourself. It has less to do with what somebody else did as much as it does with your decision to move on with your life and not be continually victimized by rehearsing that issue or incident over and over again.

~ Bishop T.D. Jakes 

No matter the size of your wound or the depth of your resentment, I want this freedom for you. The Lord wants this freedom for you. And the book is available  for the first time TODAY at http://www.amazon.com/31-Days-Forgiveness-through-grace/dp/1482091615.  Until Saturday, 2/9 (12am EST) your copy from amazon is FREE! It will also be available for purchase through Barnes & Noble and http://31daysofforgiveness.com very soon. All proceeds go to The Seed Company, supporting Bible translators making the Bible available in all languages around the world.  

Additionally--to celebrate the launch--Tracie is also giving away fun prizes--and I want you to win one! 

Note pads from DaySpring, a hard copy of 31 Days of Forgiveness, and a so-cute hoot owl pillow from Button Bird Designs. Just leave a comment on this post to be entered to win! You can also enter by writing your own blogpost, sharing on Facebook, or posting to Twitter or Instagram with #31forgiveness. If you are new to my site, please include your email address so I can notify you if you win! Entry for the giveaway will close Friday, 2/8 at 6:00AM (PST). 

I'm excited to be a part of this launch because in this fleshy existence, not one of us outgrows the need to forgive and be forgiven. 

God intended us to live in freedom, unbound by the burdens of bitterness, hurt, vengeance. It's still the beginning of a new year. Walking the next 31 days toward forgiveness would be miles well-traveled and weight joyfully shed. 

Taking Root

We made our way to an empty spot in the corner. Anxious anticipation left almost no room for the bodies. Little feet tripped, timid hearts cried out. I kept him close to me, close so he could feel my steadiness in the swelling tension. He looked at me, eyes wide and searching. "It's going to be okay, right?" he asked without words. "You're going to be okay," I said. He leaned his body into mine and I leaned back. Everything would be alright. 

All this: waiting, anxiety, leaning, trusting...for a follow-up appointment with the Vet. During our last visit he endured much more than either of us expected, and although the treatment was for his benefit, today's apprehension was reasonable. There we were, back again at a place unpreferred for a purpose surpassing his comprehension. And yet he didn't bolt for the door or act out in terror or anger, because of his trust in me. I told him he would be okay, and he believed me. 

When we got home I praised him and then set about to wash the sheets. On my walk to the laundry room I thought of a little boy: the one I taught to speak. First the letters and their sounds, simple sentences, then more complex. He mimics my soft "th" in thing, gentler than a more brisk "th" in the. He believes me when I pronounce d-o-e-s as "duz" instead of, well, "does," while neither reason nor rule can explain why. 

This trust-- confidence in the validity and authority of my words-- never fails to humble me. I know my weaknesses, I'm aware of the limitations of my knowledge, my head hangs at the memory of all the times I've been impatient, inconsistent. 

And yet, this little boy calls my name and searches my soul with eyes big and wide and trusting. He seeks truth. He tests his experiences against it. He craves the warm & fuzzies of hearing truth repeated. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, we don't push people, right?" 
"That's right, we don't push people."

He reflects for a moment and tells me of a boy at school who got in trouble for pushing. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, it's not nice to say, 'You're not my friend. Get away from me!' right?" 
"That's right, it's not a very nice thing to say. What's a nicer way to say we don't want to play?" He recites a few of the "kind" phrases we've practiced. 

"Ms. Jac'yn, the ocean is too dangerous, right? A shark will eat us, right?" 

I hear the influence of those around him in his questions. He's heard me say not to push people but because he sees it happen he needs to come back and be assured. I've modeled kind phrases he might use socially but because emotional webs are sticky and appear out of nowhere, he needs direction for his heart and others'. Maybe we've never talked about ocean safety but someone has communicated fear, and he wants to fact-check. 

As I pour laundry soap my legs recall the weight of Emerson's lean as we were surrounded by fur and breath and chaos. My mind hears the sweet, sweet voice of a little boy repeating constantly, "right Ms. Jac'yn?" as he tests the whole world against my words. I put the pieces together and see that this, this, is how my Father wants me to trust him. 

In unpreferred waiting rooms do I lean on Him or on my own understanding of the situation? Do I mimic the tones of his voice? Do I run to his ear to fact-check, just because I enjoy his truth? When He tells me I'll be okay, do I believe it?

These are my models for trust: the beautiful faith-filled hearts of children (and pets), secure and precious. Their faith is profound and my frame senses its thirst for deeper roots.  

It's so easy to become confused and scared and unsure. The serpent of old hisses syrupy, asking us to believe in our experiences and wisdom, instead of putting both under the authority of the Word. But as we learn to take each thing back to our Authority, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, he is so good to clean the gunk out of our ears and wrap us in flawless truth. 

What did God say about the one who trusts him? He is blessed. She will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

Trust is the beginning. It starts at the root, in the depth of my heart. Trust establishes my stance and steadies my soul. It precedes fruit, and makes me "blessed." 

On Waiting

As you might imagine, my heart is burdened for those who are single, barren, unemployed, disabled, discouraged. In a world frantic & rushing, decorated in a wide range of accessories of achievement and self-sufficiency, my heart is burdened for those who wait.

In the midst of innocuous banter regarding street traffic, I am made aware of the vast chasm dividing those who race to their destination unhindered and those who are stopped at each intersection by solid red. Those made to wait steep in restless rage, frustration; they are overwhelmed by seeming injustice. They hear the ticking clock and sense the impending despair of being left behind. "How will I catch up?," they quake. "At this rate how will I ever get there?," they fret. And in those who wait quietly, unobtrusively, lament wells up from the depths, "Have I been forgotten?" 

We are inept at waiting without strain or struggle. Each of us has a will, a way, dreams, and plans we'd like to see realized promptly, fluidly. In our hearts we are stubborn & greedy.  As a community we disdain delay, racing through yellow lights shouting victoriously at our own advancement, sneering at the fools made to wait. In our fellowship we are selfish & superficial. 

At the core of our struggle with waiting is a seed of falsehood. We build our identity on a culturally-accepted progression of achievement and acquisition. We believe that faster is better, less is less, delay is a symptom of apathy or rebellion. In some circles we even believe that the hampered life signals punishment, lack of blessing. 

For the Waiting, the implication of our cultural distortion is severe, and my heart is heavy. But grace finds and reminds me of a truth mighty enough to free us from isolation and heartache. My burden is that the single, barren, unemployed, disabled, and discouraged would know this truth: 

But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.  

He [or She] will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. 

It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. 

It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. 

 Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NIV)

You who wait on the Lord because you trust him and his traffic direction, you are blessed. 

You who wait are sturdy, connected securely to your life source, wanting for nothing. 

You who wait don't need to be afraid because you are well-watered and will not wither away in the stillness. 

You who wait need not worry about delay because even in the suspension you abound in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. 

photo by Chris Hoover

You who wait on the Lord are fruitful [productive, effective, abounding, blooming, rich, worthwhile], not because of your own will or strength, but because of His will and power. 

You who wait and heed and surrender are protected under His wing and shaped by His hand. You are not forgotten. You are not defective, beyond hope, or running out of time. You are loved and will serve as a shining testament to His grace. 

You who wait will not be more valuable or valid once you find a spouse, become a parent, secure employment, or receive healing. You are valuable and productive now because you are His. 

You who wait are not invisible. You are the one waiting patiently for your future spouse, rooting yourself in Christ and letting him use you now, unshaken in the perfection of His timing for you. You are the woman without children of your own who goes boldly to the little ones in need-- caring, protecting, giving. You are the man without children of your own who boldly loves his God and his wife, standing up as intercessor for your family, present and future. You are unemployed, seeking the Lord for your life's purpose and work, standing confidently in who you are apart from title or salary. You are the caregiver of one helpless and needy, limited in your social circle and affluence, but rich in love and faithfulness. You are helpless and disabled, quietly dependent and confident in those brought to care for you. You decide each day, as you come upon another stoplight, to be glad because today has been made by the Lord. 

Waiting is not for the weak, my friends. Those who wait will not be disappointed or ashamed. Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. Those who trust in Him are blessed and never fail to bear fruit. My burden for you (and me) who wait is that we would remember the truth and learn to see the sculpting and fruit in those apparently inactive, stilled. For us who wait, we need to stay connected to the stream, keep standing firm in the truth and remain faithful in prayer, in our utter dependence. 

For you who wait and pray for us, ask to see the fruit of the contrite spirit. Encourage with truth, not with doubt or fear. As one who has been waiting and seemingly idle for a long stretch, I want you to know how much I love and appreciate your prayers and encouragement. I was reminded not long ago to pray for those praying for us because as we continue to live suspended, your faith is tested, too, and you need His strength to continue supporting us. What's beautiful about you is that by your faith for us, you too, become one who waits and trusts...and one who is gifted with blessing and fruit.  

Whether you're at a red light or looking back at it in your rearview, be alert because you might be in the perfect position to witness a miracle. 

A Question

Well, I had started another blog post over the weekend but was struck by a couple of stories in the Bible today and thought I'd keep said post in the queue just a little longer. 


To varying degrees, I think most people know that God has made some promises to Chris and I regarding purchasing a home, living a fulfilling and peaceful life (including work), and having children. Not to get too Old Testament on you, but we've basically been following Him through the desert, sweating it out on our way to the Promised Land (fingers crossed it won't take 40 years). Some portions of the land are coming into view clearer than others and sometimes a dust storm emerges, temporarily blocks all vision, and fills our boots with sand--two things that make a long journey all the more tedious. This is not to say that we live in a perpetual state of sunburn and hunger, but waiting is no laughing matter, especially in a society that loves to hop on a jet plane and skip the desert altogether. In any case, some days (weeks) are tough and if you've ever experienced the burn of holding tight to that Hope string and have started to feel self-conscious about holding on and holding on, wondering if you're crazy for thinking things will ever change, then this post is for you. 

My quiet time started in John 4, with the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman (4:4-26). Jesus sits at a well and "When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, 'Will you give me a drink?'" The woman was confused because he was a Jew and she was a Samaritan (not generally acquaintances) and she asked, "'How can you ask me for a drink?'...Jesus answered her, 'If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.'" Jesus later explains the living water this way: "'Everyone who drinks this water [earthly water] will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.'" (New International Version)

Something about Jesus's words, "Will you give me a drink?" caught my attention and I investigated related verses. I ended up in 1 Kings 17:7-16, the story of the widow at Zarephath. 

The prophet Elijah traveled into this city and asked a woman for some water and bread. The woman responded, "'As surely as the Lord your God lives, I don't have any bread-- only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it-- and die.' Elijah said to her, 'Don't be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land.' She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah." (NIV)

I've always thought this story of the widow was exceptional, inspiring, completely awesome on God's part. But today I understood the pain of giving in a time of famine and waiting. I heard my husband's voice in my head, strained and stressed, unsure of anything and everything. I commiserate with the fatigue that pushes us toward using up the rest of our supply and throwing in the towel. I'm pretty sure this woman didn't receive Elijah's request with, "Bread? Sure! I'd love to give you the last of our food! Please, come in and help yourself." I'll bet it was more like, "Whatever, sir. Yeah, take the rest of our food; might as well speed up the dying process because I'm tired of fighting." Regardless, she offered a painful sacrifice and God miraculously sustained her household during a dry season. 


Going back to Jesus and the Samaritan woman-- for as long as they conversed, he only ever asked her one question, "Will you give me a drink?" She didn't even know who he was, but if she had, Jesus told her, she would have asked him for water and he would have given her much more. I couldn't help but hear Jesus asking me (and Chris) if I know him and trust him. Do I know and trust His character? Am I willing to keep taking small steps, especially when I'm confused and weary? Will I give him every new day and keep walking with Him? Will I take the daily bread and let it sustain me? Because if I do know him, then I would ask him for sustenance and faith and refreshment...and I would know he'll give it. Because if I do trust him, He wants to honor my small, end-of-the-jar sacrifices with provision beyond my wildest imagination.  


 God said: "The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land." 1 Kings 17: 14


Jesus said: "whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:14


These are promises for the desert. Promises for surviving the nasty, violent, lip-chapping dust storms, and refreshment for the weary soul. His question is simple: Do you believe?