There is Life In the Desert

"I will lead her into the desert
 and speak tenderly to her there.
 I will return her vineyards to her
and transform the Valley of Trouble into a gateway of hope.
She will give herself to me there,
as she did long ago when she was young,
when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.
When that day comes,” says the Lord,
“you will call me ‘my husband’
 instead of ‘my master.’"~Hosea 2:14-16

Almost eight years ago my life was broken. My marriage was broken.  I was broken.  My husband went to work for a different company which meant a new move to a completely unfamiliar town.  It was only 2 hours away from family and friends, but it felt as if we were moving to our own private island away from everyone and everything we ever knew.  Other than going to college, we both had pretty much grown up and lived in our hometown our entire life. 

No friends to numb the pain of a broken marriage.  No spending time with family to avoid being around my husband.  Afterall, this was an era before facebook or twitter.  Empty. I had nothing to give. Hopeless and defeated. I just gave up caring altogether.  Lost. I had tried my way and failed. I didn't know where to go with my life. 

But He did.

He knew exactly where to lead me....into the desert. 

Often times we feel the dryness of an upcoming desert and we do everything we can to avoid it.  We self medicate on food, facebook, or other distractions.  The discomfort of stillness runs us mad.  But gently, He leads into the arid, away from everyone and everything.  We reach out to grab something to hang onto, yet we only grab sand that slips away from our grip.  He has something to tell us...some word of life that comes like a whisper and lights upon our heart.  It is here that we feed on The Bread of Life.  It is here that He satisfies more that the richest foods. It is here that he creates streams of Living Water.

Eight years ago He led me into the desert to tell me that I was His and He is mine.  And in that desert He restored.  My broken marriage was healed.  I was filled.  I was victorious. I had hope. I was found.  No, not just because my marriage was no longer broken, but because I allowed my Savior to save me from myself.  The healed marriage was just the fruit from the vineyard that was returned, renewed, restored. 

This year, after 8 amazing years, the Lord moved us on toward another adventure.  We returned to our hometown to plant a church.  While our hometown was always home in our minds, I have to say, it hasn't felt like home in our hearts.  For 8 years we graphed ourselves into a new community. Serving Christ, laughing, crying, worshipping, loving, growing.  In November, we unpacked the boxes and prepared for Christmas. Yet something familiar hung in the air.  No longer broken, no longer hopeless, but yet something familiar.  Ahh, it is the arid hint of desert that He gently escorts me toward.  It is the stillness found in the lack of new friends.  It is the sandy business that we grasp in desperation but can't quite hold onto. 

He still leads me.  And so I eagerly await his tender whispers.
There is Life in the desert.

The Day Our Ministry Changed Forever

It was a hot summer day.  My husband was a Youth Pastor at the time and we had taken our youth group to the beach.  We had set up a base camp area alongside the dunes where our gazebo tent shielded our coolers and snacks from the blazing sun.  My son, then 6, was having the time of his life with a boogie board. My daughter, then 4, was hard at work building a sandcastle.  Our team of chaperones sat at the edge of the water, chair bottoms in the water as our feet were constantly lapped by the ocean waves.  We talked about unimportant things while scanning the water and keeping and eye on our brood of teens.

"Mama, can I go get a snack?" My daughter, Anna, was rinsing her sandy hands off in the ocean and looking to me for an answer.  I looked back at the base camp.  A snack did sound good.  "Yes! Will you bring me a snack too?"  She nodded her head and took off passing my husband as he walked toward our group of ladies sitting on the edge of the water. 

We laughed and talked  for a few minutes and then went into the water to cool off.  Oh it was so hot, and the water cooled and relieved. Then it dawned on my husband and I at the same time.  Where was Anna?  We looked back at the base camp. No Anna. We looked over at the heap of sand that was her special castle. No Anna.  We looked over at my son who was still boogie boarding.  No Anna.  Suddenly, a crushing weight of fear sat heavy on my heart.  Panic ran across my face.  We looked at our group of chaperones and said, "Did any of you see Anna?"  Panic, like a virus, spread to them.  We all began calling and searching our area of the beach. 

"Anna, where are you?" Like God in the garden searching for his beloved Adam and calling out to him, we called for our child.  

There were seas of people as far as the eye could see.  We looked for a tiny, sweet, princess in a pink heart bathing suit.  Strangers in our area joined in the hunt.  A lifeguard was alerted and began the pursuit.  He advised us to stay where we were in case she made her way back to base camp.  In that time of waiting, I cannot tell you how many thoughts flooded my mind.  Guilt and condemnation pressed inward invading my heart. Like a sharp sword, they cut.  A week before heading to the beach I had just finished a book about a little girl being abducted called The Shack.  I looked at the hotels along the beach. Was my baby in one of those rooms?  I saw the parking lot area. Did some monster drive off with her?  I looked out at the water terrified we would find her little body floating amid the waves.  I looked over at my husband afraid that he would hate me forever.  He was pacing and praying.  "God please .....," I whispered, too broken to say anything else, too afraid to have hope, and too afraid to not have hope.

After what seemed like the longest 20 minutes of my life, we saw the lifeguard racing toward us on a green gator.  He stopped. One of the chaperones jumped off, running with Anna tightly in her arms.  We fell to our knees weeping.  She put her down, and Anna slowly walked over to us with a snack still in her hand.  With her head down and eyes that seemed afraid to look at us, my daughter asked, "Daddy, are you mad at me?"

What? Mad at her? We were beyond happy, overjoyed, relieved, ecstatic, that she was back in our arms! At that point I didn't care what had led to her getting lost.  My baby was alive, and she was back! 

"Look at me. I am not mad at you baby," my husband fought through crying to answer my daughter.  We held eachother and continued to cry.  "Here's your snack Mama," she held out the silver package.

We discovered that when Anna reached the tent and found the snacks, she looked out and because the beach was packed that day and because we were in the water cooling off, she did not see us.  She walked along the edge of the water looking out to find us until the lifeguard and our lifesaver chaperone spotted her, nearly a mile down the beach from where we were.  She had just turned around and started heading back in our direction.  The whole time, she held the snack that I had asked her to bring back for me. 

Afterwards my husband and I discussed how easy it was for her to head into the direction that she thought was right, but was actually further and futher from where she needed to be.  Isn't that easy to do? Isn't that what happens in life?  We don't intentionally head toward divorce.  We don't intentionally head toward broken relationships. We don't intentionally head toward addictions.  We think that we can find what we are looking for in working and achieving even if it comes at a cost. When we don't seem to find what we are looking for, we continue walking toward yet something else that feels right.  And when we finally get to where we feel like we need to turn around, when we finally realize we might actually be lost and heading in the wrong direction, we begin to wonder if our daddy is mad at us.  What is daddy going to say to me when I do get back home?  Is he going to be mad at me for walking away from him? Will he be mad at me for doing what I thought was right? 

The Prodigal Son story took on new meaning for us that day.  While everyone likes to examine the wild life of the son, we as parents really understood to the best of our human ability, the heart of God toward those who are far away from Him.  How deeply He longs for them to return. How intensely He desires for them to be alive and well.  How overjoyed He is when they return.  Mad? Never.  Upset that they were in pig pens? No way. So in love with them that He would give everything for them to be alright and back safely where they belong? Absolutely.  Which is why He did.

How we focus so much on behavior, when God is concerned with the person.  His heart beats with a rhythm that says, "I don't care what you've done. You are mine, and I love you more than you could ever imagine."  He is constantly calling out for us, ready for us to come home.  When I see a person who is far from God, my heart breaks because I understand how God's heart aches for them to come back to him.  I understand how God longs for them to be alive in Christ and not dead in sin.  I remember my beach prayers, "...Just let her be alive Lord." Longing and aching.

"Give us your heart Lord, so that we can love others the way you love."  That was my prayer before our beachtrip.  God is faithful to answer our prayers.  I didn't enjoy the way he did it, but in His Grace and faithfulness, He changed my husband and I forever. He changed us, changed our hearts, and changed the way we minister.

Humble Pie

This morning, my daughter had a dentist appointment to have a cavity filled. Weeks before, we talked about what the dentist would do, reasurring her it would be ok. Her older brother chimed in, "It's no big deal!"  She's acutally had a filling before, so we talked about it and then moved on. No big deal.  She seemed pretty calm and collected about the whole thing...that is until the moment she sat in the chair. 

While we sat in the waiting room, I asked if she wanted me to go back with her. "No, I'm a big girl," she replied. I asked her if she was sure, to which she nodded yes.  Soon the assistant came to get her, so I pulled out my Southern Living magazine, and before I could get past the first few pages, the assistant was calling me to come back with her.  "She wants her mommy afterall," she whispered.

I walked into the small room and held my little Muffin's hand.  She was crying and fighting the doctor with big tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt bad for her and offered reassuring words that it was going to ok. "I'm right here; there's nothing to worry about."  Her behavior then became more aggressive as she pleaded for me to take her home.  As my grandmother would say, "She showed out!"  The doctor graciously called me to the hallway, where he suggested that we send her to another dentist who could put her to sleep for her procedure.  We agreed, and in less that ten minutes we were in the car driving home.

Where at first I felt pity for her, now I felt anger. It was ridiculous to me.  She had had a filling before.  She had lived through the dreaded shot before.  I could not understand this fear and the behavior that came with this fear.  She had cried, kicked, screamed, fought the dentist, and totally ignored me.  I expected this from a 2 or 3 year old, but not an 8 year old!  I knew there would be a little pain, but it had to be done so that she would have healthy teeth.  I had sat with her and reassured her that it was going to be okay.  We had discussed this before her visit.  So why did she not trust me? Why did she not trust that even though there would be some discomfort, I would never let them hurt her?  It is an understatement to say that I was angry.

When we got home, my husband had not left for work yet. I went into the bedroom and shut the door. It was time to vent.  He listened attentively and then gently said a familiar phrase. He says this quite often, and it always makes me mad, but he is always right. (Perhaps that is why I get mad)  He said, "You can't get mad at her for being like you."  Oh, those words!!!  "What the heck are you talking about?" I asked.  And so, he began to explain his reasons, and I began to cut myself a slice of humble pie with each word. 

I admit, I do the same thing to God.  I find myself so afraid in certain situations, and when fear overwhelms me I "show out" too.  I cry; I plead for God to do something!  I don't want the discomfort, or the momentary pain.  I push people away who try to help me. I forget all the times that I've made it through the discomfort.  And when my Father tries to reassure me that he is there, I seem to have no confidence in those words. I abandon the trust that my Father will not let anyone hurt me.  All I know in that moment is fear--fear that is so overwhelming to me, but to my Father it is ridiculous.  Perhaps that is why the Bible has, I believe, 365 scriptures pertaining to fear. God knows we struggle with it, but oh how much better life is without it. How better our lives are when we trust our Father's heart, even in times of discomfort or pain! 

Lord, help me to remember what this humble pie tastes like, so that the next time I am tempted to show out in fear, I will trust instead.

Beauty

Weekends.  A time to unwind, visit with friends, enjoy couch time with family, football games, and afternoon naps.  In a world that is plagued with going, going, going, doing, doing, doing there is peace that comes with a slow pace.  This weekend particularly, as I slowed my pace I found peace, but I also found an unexpected gift.  A gift called beauty.

Have you ever sat with someone you love and in an instant, in that moment, you experienced beauty?  Beauty, like your husband of over a decade looking at you like he did on your wedding day?  Beauty while sitting with a child and in a simple movement you recall them as a toddler? Or in a glimpse you see the sweet innocent face that you gave birth to ten years ago or longer?

Beauty.

Maybe the beauty I am referring to can be best described in the scene of a movie.  In the movie, The Passion of the Christ, there is one particular scene where Mary is running to catch a glimpse of her beloved son, Jesus, as he carries OUR cross to Golgatha. She darts into an alley and sees him just as he stumbles and falls from the weight of the heavy cross.  In that moment, her memory rushes to a previous time where Jesus, a toddler, falls down, and she runs to comfort him.  Beaten, bloody and in anguish, he whispers words that take our breath away, because they are so beautiful. 

He looks into her eyes and says, "Behold mother, I make all things new." {which, by the way, Jesus actually says to us in Revelation}

                                                                        

Beauty.

These moments of old, these times of the past, blow into our minds and hearts like an unexpected gush of wind.  Gifts of beauty sent to us by a loving Savior who, during his last meal with his disciples, urges them to remember.  "Do this in rememberance of me." 

When our lives draw to an end here, when we are about to step over into eternity, the jobs we had, the cars we drove, the projects we never completed, the friends we had on Facebook will be nothing.  We will hold tight to the gifts of beauty. We will hold tight to things like watching your daughter's hair blow in the wind.

 We will hold tight to the look in the eyes of a husband, who looks at you with the same love and adoration as he did watching you walk down the aisle.

We will hold tight to things like the way your son's tiny hand felt inside yours as you marveled at how something so magnificent could come from your body. 

We will hold tight to the one who makes all things, even old things, new again. 

Beauty.

Fighting For Real

I have not felt like writing or blogging for quite some time.  As a pastor’s wife, it seems as if we have to keep it together, be the strong one, quote the scripture, overcome.  But lately, I have done the opposite. I have fallen apart, been weak, turned away from the Word, and succumbed.  In that barren place, I am bombarded with feelings of guilt, not measuring up.  A sitting duck for the enemy who lies, steals, kills and destroys.  And then as the Lord promises, he provides a stream in the desert in the form of a lunch date with a much wiser wife of a pastor who has walked this same path for, I believe, 25 years if not longer.  Our conversation included words such as pride, self-sufficiency, skewed views of Father due to our father, and I don’t know. 

I don’t know.

At times, isn’t that more powerful than the actual answer?  It tells us our feelings are valid.  We feel known, understood.  More importantly it permeates dependence.  Dependence on the one who knows all things.

We prayed. We cried. We got real.  I had forgotten what that feels like.  A part of it felt blasphemous.  A part, liberating.  God can handle the questions. God can handle real; God wants real.  God can handle the anger, doubt and fear.  The question is, can we?  It is too heavy to carry alone.  We need someone stronger to take the weight off our hands.  We were made to depend on Him.  And when we begin to walk away with the, “I’ve got this one” attitude the vinedresser comes with his shears.  One of my favorite authors, Ann Voskamp, blogs, "In the pruning of the branches, the vinedresser is closest, breath warm upon the leaves."  Instant comfort, knowing that He is close.  He strips away the dead, the sin, things that hinder us from blooming.  It can be hard, even embarrassing, as he begins to strip those things away.  We feel exposed, naked like tenants of Eden who have done something wrong, and so we hide. 

“Where are you Adam?” 

Why is that in there?  Could it be that it was written for our benefit?  Their lives, their shortcomings, their sin exposed for all to read and preach about.  The story that even unbelievers know.  The foundation of creation!  Our National Enquirer into the lives of the original fall from grace.  Yet as I work out my shortcomings, I walk away from my computer, Facebook less often, maintain empty conversations with friends in hopes that they cannot see my fig leaf.  I forfeit my opportunity to help others feel known.  To say, this has happened. This is the way I feel.  I know what it feels like to want to walk away, but something compels me to stay. You are not the only one.  I don’t know.

Real. 

This path is not easy.  But it is impossible if done alone.  I cannot testify to the Grace I received today if I am afraid to show the reason I needed it.  Lord help me to be real….

A Nest of Sparrows

The Southeast gets dreadfully hot during the summer.  We came home from a beach trip a few weeks ago, to find my lovely fern basket littered with brown leaves.  I gathered up my water hose to give my poor plants a much needed drink, and as I approached the hanging basket a sparrow flew out.  "Hmmm, that is odd," I thought to myself. For whatever reason, I was prompted to pull the basket down, where I discovered four newly hatched baby sparrows. Their eyes were closed and their feathers were slick. One slowly opened its beak, begging for food.  I called my children over to look at the birds, and then we gently hung the basket back up.  To be honest, although I loved looking at the sweet, tiny birds I was more involved in trying to figure out how to save my poor fern.  Lord, what am I going to do? My fern that I received for Mother's Day is going to die in this heat without water!  Oh so gently I heard his reply, "Sometimes something important has to die in order that others may live."  It came as gentle as a whisper in the wind, but in that gentleness there was so much power, and depth. These words touched my soul. "I understand Lord. Forgive me for being so selfish and forgetting the importance of these little birds," I prayed.

Over the next few weeks, the Lord used these four little birds to speak to me.  After a day of scorching temperatures, an evening storm popped up. This storm brought wind that ripped down trees in other areas of our town like toothpicks. Sitting in our living room area, I remembered the birds and ran outside to find their little basket swinging wildly.  I took the basket down and looked inside to find the four fuzzy little birds hunkered down and waiting for the storm to pass. I laughed at the thought of them being motion sick from the wild ride on the wind.  I tucked their basket behind a few pieces of heavy wood, all the while being so afraid that the mother bird would not come back to feed them. "Lord please let the mama come back. I am only moving them to keep them protected from the storm. They were about to fall out of the nest!"  After the storm passed, I placed the birds back in their normal hanging position and went to bed.  The next morning I would occasionally check on the nest to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mama there, but I never got a caught a glance of her.  "Lord, please just let me see the mama so that I will know she came back," I pleaded.  The next day after a trip to the grocery store, arms loaded down with bags I closed the trunk of the car, and there she was standing above the babies and feeding them.  "Thank you Lord," I said with genuine sincerity.

The kids and I were excited to watch the progress of the birds.  We laughed at my son who, in surprise of seeing how quickly they had grown, called them "teenager birds."  Again another storm came; again I gently placed them behind some heavy wood for safety.  This time though, after the storm passed, two birds had fallen out of the nest.  We placed a towel on top of one of the birds and then tenderly placed it back into the nest. We approached the other bird, and to our surprise it flew away. "Leaving the nest," I thought. Then I looked at my own little brood. One smiled a jagged little smile at me with a few missing teeth. The other about a head taller than the youngest-still small but yet growing more and more mature each day. "Lord help me on the day that mine fly away," I prayed with a tear. 

Over the next few days we would check the nest to find yet another bird had flown away. Then another. And then, there was one.  We expected it to leave at any time, but as the days passed it was still there.  Was it the one we caught with the towel?  Was it hurt and unable to leave the nest? I felt responsible and guilty.  "Maybe it was born last," my son reasoned.  Perhaps.  Then one morning, we went out, and I did not see it's little head peeping up from inside my brown, lifeless fern.  I brought it down, looked inside and the nest was empty.  The fern was now completely dead, but four little sparrows were in flight.  "There is victory in something empty," the gentle whisper spoke. "You are right Lord. Victory in an empty tomb, which required someone special to die.  And there is victory in this empty nest, sitting inside my dead fern.  Thank you Lord for victory. Thank you Lord for the freedom to soar on wings like eagles.  You always seem to amaze me. Thank you for taking the time to show me this and speak so tenderly to my heart. Lord, why you love me so I will never know" I prayed.   A quick reply came back, "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7

Oh how he loves us. Oh how he loves me. Truly all of creation screams out the cross and the resurrection.  I  am worth more than many sparrows, and I am never forgotten by God....

Going Through the Motions

We are in the last few days of school for this year.  It has been quite an exhausting year at that. We moved 3 months into our school year, had issues with our curriculum, and I am finishing up my second year-so I am still trying to figure all this homeschooling stuff out. All I can say is, "Whew. I am so glad this school year is OVER!"  So these last few days, we do what we have to do, but we are definitely just going through the motions.


I imagine that's what many people feel in various aspects of their lives. School, jobs, church. The list goes on. They are just going through the motions.  Sometimes I catch myself doing that in my Spiritual walk. "Bless this food..." or "Traveling mercies..."  We get mechanical. We just want to get it done and over with. I wonder if Jesus in his fully human self felt that? Maybe with all the crowds that were begging him for yet another miracle? Maybe with the disciples who had such little faith?


Perhaps that is why he went off by himself--to connect with the Father who would strengthen and inspire him to carry out what had to be done. Perhaps we should recognize that going through the motions is a tale tale sign that we need to seek refuge with the one who strengthens us.


Enjoy your break from going through the motions..... and I will do the same.

Let Everything that Has Breath Praise the Lord

Yesterday afternoon my kids found one of those little fuzzy caterpillars that you always see in springtime.  They carefully placed it into a jar filled with leaves "just in case he gets hungry" and poked holes in the top for air.  I felt bad for the poor little guy and sure that we would awake in the morning or next few days and find it dead.  To my surprise, instead of a dead caterpillar we found a cocoon!

Hmmm. I didn't really know what to say.  This was not what I expected, but it was a very pleasant surprise! So I prayed, "Lord what are you trying to show me?"  Over the next few hours the Lord tenderly brought to my remembrance the wonderful story of Easter--as He has been doing that a lot lately.  I thought about the disciples and Thomas especially, who did not expect to find the risen Christ but instead expected to find a dead man. We like to think that we would not have wavered in our faith after seeing Jesus walk on water, raise the dead, and heal the blind, crippled, and lame but the truth is we are all just as imperfect as the disciples. What a pleasant surprise when they discovered the Messiah who had overcome the grave!!! 

It would be enough just to worship a Messiah who could overcome death, but our God is not a God who just covers the basics. He goes above and beyond and extends that same power to us! Just a simple faith in The One who did what we could never do on our own, and we too overcome the grave and have eternal life.  Just a simple faith in the power of love, so powerful that the gates of hell could not keep him, and we too share in the joys of heaven.  Just a simple faith in Jesus, the son of God, who appeared to over 5000 after his death and burial, and we are invited into the family of God, creator of the Universe!

Oh but this wonderful God we serve took it even a step further. He invites us, through faith in Jesus, to share in Jesus' death and resurrection. We are invited to surrender our sinful lives to the one who was sinless. Therefore we are spiritually crucified and brought back into new life.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." 

Galatians 2:20

AND because we are crucified with Christ, 2 Corinthians 5:17 promises us,

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:  The old has gone, the new is here!" 

Wow. What an amazing God who loves us so very much that He went above and beyond. We have not been refurbished. We are new creations.

Thank you Lord for the sweet reminder of what you did for me. Thank you Lord for reminding me that I am a new creation and that many people who knew me from my pre-Christ life may not recognise me because they remember a caterpillar but will be pleasantly surprised when they see I am now a butterfly.  Thank you Lord for not just saving me, but bringing me into a full and abundant life. I am so very grateful.  This little caterpillar's life gives you glory and praise and so shall mine!

Psalm 148:7,9-10,13

"Praise the LORD from the earth,
you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

you mountains and all hills,
fruit trees and all cedars,

wild animals and all cattle,
small creatures and flying birds,

Let them praise the name of the LORD,
for his name alone is exalted;
his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.

Go To The Tomb, But Don't Stay In It

This morning Hubby and I were discussing the difference in problem solving skills in men and women. Of course he was giving me the 411 on how men deal with things and I was doing my best to represent women all over the world.  Before I tell you what God taught me in all of that I will give a brief history of the differences between Hubby and myself.

Hubby is the eternal optimist. Nothing is so bad that it can't be fixed. He has little time to sweat the small stuff so he doesn't.  The glass is always half full, and there is no point in dwelling on the past. He is a dreamer and believes there is no limit to what God can do. Even if he fell miserably on his face after a faith jump, he would dust himself off, praise God and jump again. I am in awe of him--I really am.

I like to call myself a realist although I think that is just a nice way of saying I am a pessimist.  Small stuff builds on top of each other and eventually make big stuff. My glass is always half empty, and my past, although forgiven by my precious Savior, makes me want to kick my own butt. If I fell miserably on my face after a faith jump, I would lay in the dirt and cry and then get mad and pout with God.

We are so opposite, but yet we compliment each other so beautifully.

Anyway, so we were discussing how men vs. women resolve problems.  I appreciate the differences between the sexes, whereas Hubby is a little annoyed with them.  He works with an office full of women who sweat the small stuff and see the glass not half empty but empty.  He looks at it like women like to blow things up and make something huge out of them in order to validate their feelings. He might be right in some situations.  We discussed how women's brains are like a ball of yarn-one thought attached to the next thought, attached to the next thought. Men's are like waffles-compartmentalized where one thought in one square has nothing to do with the thought in the other square. Then we put away our psychology/sociology and picked up our Bibles.

One story that stuck out to me in reference to men vs. women was after Jesus had been crucified.  After the crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathia and the two Marys were the ones who buried Jesus. They were the ones who placed his body into the tomb. The women could not embalm his body because it was the Sabbath, but when the Sabbath was over, these women were the only ones who came to embalm Jesus. Where were all the other disciples? Why weren't they there to help put their beloved Rabbi in the tomb? Perhaps it was the Jewish custom that women were to only do this; I don't know for sure. 

No doubt that Jesus' death was a huge problem for his followers. I think it is a natural part of who we are as women that when we have a problem, we sit with it. It's big to us, and it won't go away until we deal with it in our own way.  Many men are different. They don't want to focus on the problem in a real, up close way. They have to look at it from a distance as if looking out on the horizon to focus on the enemy's army on it's way.  The disciples kept their distance from their problem. They dealt with the burial and death of Jesus in their own way, away from the actual problem. The women went into the tomb with their problem. We are just different; no one is better and no one is worse.

The problem for us as women, is when we can't leave the tomb...when we can't leave our problem.  I am not sure what God would have done if the women stayed with the body of Jesus. It was obviously his Divine will that they not.
 

My thoughts are, if we never leave the problem, hurt, disappointment, then we miss the resurrection. If the women wouldn't have left and came back, they would have missed the power, miracle, beauty and amazement of the empty tomb.  Sometimes as women we have to know when to bury the problem so that we can see God do a miracle. 

Lord, help me to know when I need to leave the tomb of a problem, hurt, or disappointment so that you can do a miracle. Let me know when to leave the tomb so that you can restore life to that which was once dead.  Ladies, lets not stay in the tomb too long. God has some work that he needs to do.

In My Own Skin

Gosh I have been struggling lately. Struggling to juggle homeschool, meal planning, couponing, getting the kids to their extra curricular activities, keeping up with my Bible study....you get the picture.  We all have tons to do. I find myself looking at other women who seem to manage it all. They are my heros; they are the ones I stand in awe of. How do they do it all? Did they take some course on how to be a June Clever? 

Then this week, I began to study the story of David and Goliath. We all know that story, but this time something completely different stood out to me. Before David went out to fight Goliath he first put on Saul's armor, but Saul's armor was too heavy and he could not fight well in it.  So, David took off the armor and went out and faught in his own skin and defeated the giant.

Wow. That really hit home for me. We all have this image of what we want to be. David wanted to be a warrior, so naturally what do all warriors need? Armor. But God wanted David to fight in his own skin, his own personal armor.  Maybe that's what he wants for me too. Maybe I need to take a long look at what I am doing and really ask myself, "Am I doing this for myself, or to prove I am some superwoman mom?".  David was not Saul, but on the battlefield in Saul's armor, he would have looked just like Saul. Yet God was calling David to be comfortable in his own skin, because carrying Saul's armor was too heavy.

There are a lot of things I seem to be carrying that are pretty heavy. Maybe, just maybe, I should put them down and learn to fight the good fight in my own skin. Maybe then, that is when I will see giants fall.