Overflowing

For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. 

Matthew 12:34b

Filled is the best way to describe how I felt.  We spent a weekend repenting and praying after attending a marriage conference.  Then, our Sunday message was about thanksgiving and gratitude, a posture which I always try to hold tight, but entitlement creeps in and robs.  Full to the brim with excitement and awe at the God who created all, yet He cared enough about my marriage to send someone to help make it even better.  I stood amazed that the same God who conquered death would take time to free me from apathy and help me to see everything as a glorious gift from Him.  Full. 

We spent time with family after church and then ventured into our local McDonald's to enjoy some ice cream.  We took our daughter to the playground and sat near the window.  Shortly after we settled, we saw two familiar faces.  Weeks ago we saw an elderly couple; their sweetness was not easily forgettable.  He, feeble himself, helped his wife out of the passenger side of the car.  Then hand in hand he escorted her to her table as he went and ordered for her.  After their coffee, he gently walked her back to the passenger side of the car and then they drove off.  I remember seeing them and looking at my husband, thankful that I have someone who would love me like that in our older years.  I remember discussing how it touched my heart to see his compassion and love for his wife.  Yet here they were again, a reminder of the deep love that sustains time and illness- a love that endures.  At our marriage conference we discussed the importance of friendship above all things in a marriage.  As he walked her across the parking lot I whispered to my husband,

"He is a really good friend to her," and smiled.  He agreed.  Full.

After she took her seat she began to knock on the window to get my attention. "Honey, I think she wants you for something," Nick said.  I looked back to see her piercing eyes and hand on the glass.  Nick opened the door and asked if he could help her but she never lost focus on me and completely ignored him.  I went inside and asked if I could help her with anything.  "I've been waiting on you," she said as she patted her seat, inviting me to sit.  Something in that invitation immediately told me that I was standing on Holy Ground.  "I'm listening Lord, to whatever you want to tell me in this situation," I said to myself.  In shock for a moment, I sat down.  This was a complete stranger, and I was a bit confused.  "Where have you been," she asked.  I stammered for an answer that would somehow fit her asking, as I realized this sweet lady suffered from dementia.  I fumbled with some more Q&A until our conversation took a turn. 

Her gaze left my eyes and turned to the floor, "I just was afraid that you didn't like me."  Didn't like her.  These words fell hard. 

"Please don't worry about that." I said softly.  "I like you very much."  "You are a sweet girl, and I love you," she said.  I placed my arm around her and said, "Aww, I love you too," and hugged her.  Her head fell to my shoulder with her soft white hair on my cheek.  By this time her husband had returned with a worried look that said he would explain her behavior.  "I'm sure by now you realized she has dementia?"  "Yes sir," I nodded.  "I see you have a friend," he said to her.  "She's a sweet girl," the elderly lady replied.  "I think you are a sweet girl," I said to her.  "My husband and I saw you two a few weeks ago and even talked about how sweet the two of you were."  "Daddy is the sweet one," she said as she looked at her husband and touched his hand.

"He loves me a lot-more than I deserve." 

By this time I went from full to overflowing.  I said a sweet goodbye and walked out to rejoin my family at the playground WRECKED.  Tears streaming down my face as I left this alter on which I had just experienced God. 

Experienced God...who experiences God at McDonald's? 

I could not speak, but yet I couldn't be quiet.  How many messages from God did I just get? About love, about undeserved love, about someone needing to be liked...endless topics all overflowing.  Lord, this is just so much to take in I thought.  I don't even know where to begin.  Immediately I thought of this verse, "For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks." 

This sweet elderly woman communicated two things with me:
I want to be liked; I want to be loved. 

Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.  While dementia served as a way for her to speak from her heart without inhibition, I wonder how many of us without dementia have the same thoughts and feeling hidden in our heart?  How many of us long for affirmation that we are liked and we are loved, but in fear we never communicate that need? 

Overflowing.

"Your love for one another will prove to the world
that you are my disciples." 

John 13:35

Let it overflow to someone who needs to be liked and loved today.

He Chose to Dance

I feel short of breath, anxious, butterflies stirred up like a tornado inside.  It is Gethsemane.  I have to say something.  I have to get it all out, but the question lurks in my mind: Will he receive it or dismiss it? Will he hear me and see me?  It is a hard conversation that I must have with the one I vowed my love to.  A conversation full of hurt and disappointment, and I am afraid of how he will take it.  My feelings and my heart are all on the line.

Learning to dance with someone is not easy.  You are unsure of how they are going to move, and at times it feels awkward, even vulnerable.  That is the way marriage feels.  There are moments of awkwardness and vulnerabilty as you learn to move together. 

Vulnerable.  The latin is vulnera which means to wound. To be vulnerable means to be able to be wounded or vulnerbilis.  Isn't that what you are doing when you open up to your spouse and lay your heart out to them?  You essentially say, "Here I am, the good and bad.  Here is my thoughts and feelings. Here is my heart."  And with that, they have the choice to wound or love.  They have the choice to embrace or reject.  But you made yourself available to be wounded. You made yourself vulnerable. 

In our culture and society, vulnerability is often considered a weakness, flaw even.  But as disciples of Christ, our hearts desire is to become more and more like Him, vulnerbilis, able to be wounded. 

"But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed."  In Latin this verse from Isaiah 53:5 translates into "ipse autem vulneratus est propter iniquitates nostras adtritus est propter scelera nostra disciplina pacis nostrae super eum et livore eius sanati sumus."  Able to be wounded, which He was.  Rejected, which He was and still is.

 

 Are you able?  Am I able?  Only through Christ....

 

Why is it so hard to be vulernable, to be open and available to be wounded, to bare our naked souls and leave our hearts available for rejection?  Lord let this cup pass from me.  I feel short of breath, anxious, butterflies stirred up like a tornado inside.  It is Gethsemane, and I am about to lay myself on this cross.  Will he drive the nails, or will he not? I just don't know.  But I do know that I am becoming more like Christ each time I am vulnerbilis. Whether it be with a spouse, friend, or in ministry, vulnera is Christlike.

 

He chose to dance rather than drive the nails.  Relief.  Safe.  Love as Christ loves the church...I am thankful to have one who strives to do this daily.  Lord help me to always see his vulnerbilis, so that I will choose to dance instead of driving the nails. 

He Sees Me

"I have called you by your name; you are Mine. 

You have been honored and I have loved you."

Isaiah 43:1,4 NKJV

This weekend we had the joy of attending a close relative's wedding.  It was a beautiful ceremony.  Everyone was enthralled with the beauty of the bride, for she was truly breathtaking.  As everyone discussed what they liked best about the wedding, one thing stood out to me...that look.  As we all stood to watch the bride come down the aisle, I happened to look back at the groom.  His eyes were fixated on her. As she approached the alter he never looked away, not even for a minute.  As her father placed her hand into the groom's, he did not look down at her hand in his, instead his gaze never left her eyes.  Throughout the entire ceremony he looked as if he were looking into the depths of who she was.  It was as if he looked beyond the beautiful dress, beyond the flowers and veil, and just saw her. 

Isn't it amazing how we can see Christ in everything if we only take the time to look?  As I pondered that look, I began to think about how Christ sees me. Oh how often I want to dress myself in good works, a veil of charity and a bouquet of sacrifice.  "Am I beautiful now," I ask, as I reach the alter.  He fixates His eyes on me.  He peers into me, deeper than even I know.  He never once looks at my dress or adornments, but instead He sees me.  Just me. 

How is it that He cannot seem to take His eyes off of me?  How is it that He finds just me, beautiful and valuable?  How is it that just me, is enough?  How is it that as imperfect as I am, He is enthralled with me?  In a world that screams you need to be more, you are not enough, you have to have this in order to be worthy, how can it be that The Creator of all things, The Holy One, The Perfect One, is so completely enamoured with me, just me? 

My guess is that it has nothing to do with us, but instead everything to do with The One who sees us.  We can't earn it, create it, deserve it, or buy it.  It just is, and it is love-amazing love.  A song says it so well, "Amazing love, how can it be? That you my King would die for me?"  He sees me.  He loves me.  He is enthralled with me.  His eyes are fixated on my heart and on me. 

Oh that we could receive that fully.  To not shy away as He looks into our depths.  To fully take in, that He sees ME...and that He loves it anyway.  Oh how He loves us.  Not because we are in a beautiful dress with beautiful flowers.  Not because we are special or that we deserve it.   But because He is.

A Holy Invitation to the One Thing

"There is only one thing worth being concerned about.

Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” 

Luke 10:42 NLT

I find myself often wondering why do Christians have struggles.  Why do we have heartache and deep longings that have gone unmet?  Why do we stress and worry? Why Lord, do you permit these things? And while I still do not have the perfect answer to fit every story I do know this:

Every obstacle in life, every adverse circumstance, every trial, every troubled relationship,

every unmet longing is an opportunity, no rather an invitation
to press beyond the veil until you find yourself at our Savior's feet. 

It is an invitation to commune with Peace as He sits on His throne.  It is an invitation to dine with the Bread of Life.  It is an opportunity to press in beyond the crowds, as the woman with the issue of blood did, to push past the distractions, to reach toward our healer.  If she never would have had the issue, if she had never felt utter desperation, she also would never have experienced Life beyond the circumstances, beyond the veil, and into the Holy of Holies. 

Oh how often we miss this invitation to feast on The One who sustains.  We choose stress, worry, grow tired and weary.  We replay arguments in our minds.  We retreat and self medicate.  We grow angry and bitter.  We parade through life with wounded hearts, yet we wear a fake smile all the while hoping that no one sees the arrows of discontentment, loneliness, sorrow, and defeat that have pierced our heart.  We hope that no one sees the heaviness and stress in our eyes.  We gripe.  We complain.  And all the while our invitation, unopened, waits for us.  It reads ""Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."  Our worry, our complaints, our busyness ring a loud response~ "No thank you, I have too much work and cannot come and sit," "No thank you, I would much rather eat this bitter fruit than to dine on The Bread."  Then we curse the adverse circumstance; we curse the invitation. 

Like Paul, of this I am the chief of sinners, but today, through God's grace I choose to thank instead of curse.  I thank Him for this cross that I carry.  It is a doorway into His sanctuary.  It is an invitation to come to the banquet and dine with The One who loves me unconditionally.  Our crosses are heavy. Our crosses are hard to carry. The nails hurt.  But today my response will be, "Yes, I will come.  Thank you for this invitation to the One Thing."  He beckons me to come, to fall on my knees at His feet, as we sit beyond the veil. 

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.