Short entries Archives - Page 2 of 3

May 19, 2023

Faith over Fear and How To Get There.

I have a confession to make. I am a big scaredy cat. I fear catapulting 35,000 feet above the earth, wedged together with 100 complete strangers. I fear Deep oceans where creatures lurk and toes can’t touch. And roller coasters, where I entrust my whole life to mechanics I don’t understand and a 16 year old proffering a thumbs up upon farewell. But even more, I fear cancer menacingly creeping through my cells, and the thought of burying a child while I am left barely breathing in this land of the living.

Even with 365 Biblical commands to not fear, still, I fear. Put your faith over your fears, they tell me. This will really stick it to those rotten feelings. Yes! Yes, I declare. So I say Bible verses when my plane rattles in stormy turbulence, and I pray my heart out when the Doctor biopsies a lump, and a million times over I remind my kid behind the driver’s wheel that they carry my most precious packages, attempting to win some control over a situation in which I have clearly lost.

But still, I am afraid. And I wonder if you are being honest, you would say the same; that fear is a monster you cannot subdue no matter how hard you try. Like a child struggling to lift a heavy weight, I find that when I try to muscle up faith, I often fail. Unable to hoist my faith above my fear I feel adrift in defeat.

Recently I had an experience that changed the way I view the phrase faith over fear. As you already heard, I am a white-knuckled, sweaty palmed, heart racing hot mess of an airline passenger. When our plane hits bumpy air I mentally start saying my goodbyes. It reminds me of the terrified disciples in a storm battered boat. Remember the Bible story of their swamped boat pitching in the wind and rain? To them it seemed the next furious wave carried certain death, so they woke up Jesus crying, “We’re going to die!!” Goodness, I understand the sentiment!

However, and this is shocking, put me in an Air Force plane and I have none of those fear-ridden feelings. Quite the opposite, I love soaring the skies in an Air Force plane.

A few weeks ago Ben and I flew home from DC in a C-130. After we took off from Andrews AFB I went to the cockpit to thank to the pilots and take in the beauty. As I clamored down from the cockpit, the reason why I hold no fear flying 35,000 feet in an Air Force plane struck me like a 2×4.

It’s because I intimately know an Air Force Pilot.

During my husband’s pilot training I would spend the night reading while he sat facing a paper instrument panel taped to the wall and chair flew. On trips I rode shotgun and tested him on emergency procedures for an upcoming Boldface. I overheard him memorize checklists, and study his knowledge for tests, and prepare for check rides. I’ve also kissed him goodbye countless times on his way out the door for combat deployments.

See? I trust Air Force Pilots because I know my Air Force Pilot.

The same goes for God.

On the one hand we can try harder. Chastise ourselves for being afraid. Muscle up strong faith to defeat our fears. But what I recently learned is the way to stronger faith is to dig deeper wells; wells of intimacy with the Trinity. If you have helped your children dig a hole to China on the beach, then you know digging grows muscles, and muscles make you stronger. (And you also know that your kids quit well before you reach China, or even water for that matter.)

Now I want you to think of one close relationship you have on earth: your husband, sister, best friend, mom. Take a minute and remember how you all developed intimacy. You shared secrets, right? Belly laughed until tears wet the corners of your eyes. Held each other close and cried in the dark nights of your soul. Offered forkfuls of chicken curry off your dinner plate, and shared cup of coffee not caring if your lips touched the cup in the same place. Really, digging wells of intimacy isn’t complex.

So what difference would it make if you dug deeper? Deeper into His Word, in honest conversation during prayer, in remembering your companion in the Holy Spirit. Going back to the disciples swamped by waves, do you recall what they wondered after Jesus quieted the storm? “What kind of man is this?”

That is a good question! Let me challenge you that as you read and study and pray, to keep asking the same one. I believe a deep well is the only way to strong faith, because you only truly trust what you intimately know.

(For more, listen to Bold Mercies‘ Episode, The Tenacity of Trust. Click here.

April 14, 2023

How To Turn Mental Defeat Into Victory

Today the kids and I had one of those mornings. Your truly (yes, that’s me!) woke up on the wrong side of the bed. The side where one emerges from slumber like a grizzly bear out of hibernation. Then because I overslept, almost everyone else did too. The ensuing drama resulted in 3 cubs and their grizzly bear Momma trying to cram 40 minutes’ worth of school prep into 20 minutes. Let me set the scene:

7:05 am – In hopes of having clean, albeit semi-wet socks, my youngest ran to the car and grabbed his sole pair of socks without holes. I found him washing them in the sink.

7:10 am – Frantically, I mixed up applesauce pancakes because we had no other breakfast options….no cereal, no bagels, not toast, no eggs.

7:12 am – After washing his socks, my son sadly discovered our dryer died dead as a doornail. He had to choose between dirty sock with holes, or wet socks without holes.

7:20 am – My oldest stuffed a few pita chips in a bag, grabbed pancakes with uncooked goo still left in the middle, and bolted out the door for the PSAT. His usual “goodbye, Mom” was replaced with a gruff, “something needs to be done about this food situation!”

At this point, I wanted to cry. I understood the assignment …. and I was failing.

Sound familiar?

Like a ball bouncing around a pinball machine, a few unhelpful thoughts pinged through my mind. I’m so disorganized. I’m terrible at time management. I can’t get anything right. I did not get to the grocery store this week. I slept through my alarm. The dirty dinner dishes still glared at me from the night before, my dryer stood helpless, and goodness, my son’s socks weren’t going to buy themselves! I felt defeated.

Have you been there? The space where defeat cozies up as your newest best friend? But if I’m honest, my mental pinball machine held several grains of truth. To say these thoughts were a lie, is a lie. Disorganization and mismanagement are my regrettable weaknesses. Cut me and I will bleed haphazard spontaneity. So what do we do when we feel defeated by some of the not-so-awesome parts of us?

Thankfully, just as I began to fall down a slippery slope of defeat, the Spirit reminded that I held the power to choose. I could wallow in pools of self-pity, held captive by these thoughts, or I could refuse to put another quarter in the pinball game. The key here is our minds. And sometimes we need a mental clapback!

For those who are not familiar, Merriam-Webster defines a clapback as a “a quick, sharp, and effective response to criticism.” Or, as Dictionary.com says, “A clapback is a very strong and well-observed comeback—one so fierce it utterly destroys and owns its target.”

Needing a “quick, sharp and effective response,” what, my friends, is alive and active and sharper than a double edged sword? You got it! The Word of God. Without a doubt, when we need a resounding mental clapback, scripture is vital. And I mean scripture in all forms. For example, the words that are read in the quiet spaces of morning and the scriptures that are song by toddlers in the backseat. The verses that pop up in our memory and the ones written on index cards and plastered all over our homes. All of them wash us like water running over a dirty rag. The Word purifies and sanctifies and redirects and reorients our mind, which is so prone to wander.

So what did I do when those feelings of defeat and overwhelm slunk into my mind? Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to, I didn’t have time to sit down with my Bible. But my hyper dogs did need a walk. So I put on my running shoes. Pushed play on my Bible App, and this is what I heard:

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (Phil 4:4-6)

Take a look at this passage again. What are the instructions? Rejoice. Again, rejoice. Show gentleness. Resist anxiety. Pray. Petition. Be Thankful. Without a doubt, had I chosen to wallow in pity, my mind would have spiraled down a path opposite to Philippians 4. Moody and anxious thoughts would have led to moody and anxious behavior, which would have led to a moody and anxious family. Y’all feeling me? For where the mind goes the body follows.

So the next time you need a mental clapback, remember the power of God’s Word. He alone turns mental defeat into victory! Because thankfully, self-pity and defeat are not in His vocabulary!

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)

PS – If you’re eager to learn how to mine the amazing treasures of God’s Word, I’m here to help! Please click here and I will send you a 5 day Bible Study to jumpstart your treasure hunt. ❤️

Also, if you haven’t listened to Bold Mercies Podcast yet, here is your invitation! You will find emboldening and encouraging stories of faith here. As we say at Bold Mercies, stories lend strength. And somedays we need to borrow a little strength.

April 7, 2023

Bound By Love: The Women Who Followed Jesus To The Tomb

The women sat opposite the tomb, bereft of the one they loved. They had witnessed Jesus’ cruel march to death, and now, unwilling to lose Him so quickly, they had followed his bloodied body. Perhaps they followed from afar, tucked away in the growing darkness, or maybe they drew near enough to touch their Savior and friend.

Whichever the case may be, love compelled these women to follow Jesus to the tomb. Until finally, reaching Jesus’ resting place, they “saw how his body was laid” (Luke 23:55)

The burial was a rushed affair. Sunset drew near, and with it would come the Sabbath. But still, the women waited, and they watched. They looked on as Joseph and Nicodemus gently wrapped Jesus’ body in linen, tucking spices into the folds. They saw Jesus’ body laid in the tomb. And with one last look, they witnessed the stone being rolled into place. (John 19:38-41)

Joseph and Nicodemus wrapping Jesus in linen and placing him in the tomb.

But then these women did a remarkable thing. They “went home and prepared spices and ointments.” (Luke 23:56) In the eyes of these women, Joseph’s burial and Nicodemus’ spices were inadequate. Love compelled them to go prepare their own, and as women we understand this, for a heart of nurturing is woven within the fabric of our lives. No one else cares for our most beloved ones like we do.

These women, who had cared for Him in life, now will care for Him in death.

Women, along with Joseph and Nicodemus, standing beside Jesus at the tomb.

The women who followed Jesus to the tomb

Lost in the shadows between Jesus’ crucifixion and His resurrection, we often forget this story. There are many reasons for this, but perhaps because the narrative can feel a little fuzzy we lose our grasp on the picture. For example, we know little about the women at the tomb. Mary Magdalene stood tombside, a well known figure at the resurrection but rarely mentioned elsewhere. And few of us have heard of Mary the mother of James and Joseph. In addition, Luke also mentions “the women who came with Him from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb.” So most likely there were other women who followed Jesus to the tomb, but we aren’t certain of their names.

Yet however mysterious, I think these obscure women best understood the heartbeat of Jesus’ ministry. As Jesus taught, loving God and loving others defines the greatest act one can do, and these women did it!

I am beguiled by them. What powerful love must have bound them to their Savior so that they followed Him to His tomb. But such is the call of all who follow Jesus. We follow to places of death so we can bear witness of Him who brings life.

How about you, dear one? Does your love for Jesus compel you to follow Him closely…even to places of death and decay? Because let’s be honest, if the complexity of Holy Week teaches us nothing else, it teaches us that following Jesus has nothing to do with power, control or acclaim, and everything to do with humility, sacrifice and service.

Bound by love

Often following Jesus leads us to serve in places of decay. For example, when Jesus taught about the final day of judgement in Matthew 25, He surprisingly doesn’t offer His inheritance to the one who had the most disciples. Instead Jesus said, “as you did for the least of these my brothers, you did for me.” They fed the hungry, clothed the naked, satiated the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, and visited the sick and imprisoned.

And you? Maybe you are parenting a rebellious teenager, or working an exhausting job as a Hospice Nurse, or volunteering at a shelter for abused women, or nurturing foster children, or showing up for a grieving friend. Let me assure you, God sees you. Your selfless love is not lost in this great big world. Quite the contrary, your love is actually the heartbeat of Jesus.

So don’t lose heart! The world might not remember your name, but you are counted among those women whose deep love for Jesus bound them to follow. The women who followed Jesus to the tomb.

Happy Easter, my friends!

{If you would to see Holy Week laid out clearly with Bible Verse readings for each day, please click this L INK. A Holy Week Journal will be available for you to download.

Also, last week’s Bold Mercies Podcast episode is an awesome one about Bible Study and Biblical literacy. You can listen HERE.}

March 13, 2023

God’s Unshakable Kingdom Which Will Never Fail You

It feels like a truly horrid thing to say, but there it stood etched upon the pages of my prayer journal, “God, I feel like you betrayed us!” We had prayed, sought wise counsel and followed God’s voice. We thought we were doing the right thing. Nevertheless, He dashed our God-given dream like a ship crashed upon a cliff.

I held the ashes of my incinerated dream and thought, “What in the world just happened?!”

Does anyone else understand?

I can think of a few people who may understand. Perhaps the mothers bereft of their sons at the hands of Herod’s jealousy. Or the women weeping at the foot of the cross crushed by the weight of disappointment. Maybe even the friends of Stephen as they tenderly prepared his blood soaked body for burial.

Conceivably, these sufferers silently asked Jesus the same question I penned in my journal. “God, where are you? I feel like you betrayed us!”

Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Frantic, I scoured my Bible, looking up every verse that talked about God’s rule and kingdom, while at the same time I parsed passage after passage so I could understand Satan’s dominion; a cruel dominion where tornadoes hit faith-filled lives. I wanted to find a clear delineation between the miraculous and the moments those miracles miscarry.

But I came up short. There are no clear answers to glaringly obvious mysteries.

By reading about the Kingdom of God I began to have clarity in the fog.

Yet in the midst of the fog, shapes began to form. I saw Jesus speaking boldly about the Kingdom of God suffering violence. I read parables of the flourishing mustard seed and the virgins prepared with extra oil. And I felt the pull towards the paradoxical attributes of mercy, forgiveness and humility. Ever so slowly those shapes became truths, and settled like firm foundations in the shifting sand of my soul.

Unquestionably, God is a not a betrayer. Even though the liar would tempt us believe it. “Did God actually say?” the serpent sneered. Enticed, the woman ate the fruit and imprisoned all humanity under the crafty deceiver. In an instant, sin broke the reflection of God’s perfect rule.

Like a shattered mirror, what once was impeccable is now distorted.

Yes, everything was broken, but all is not lost.

Of course there is good news! When Jesus rescues us from the grip of Satan, Colossians tells us He uproots us from the dominion of darkness and replants us in the Kingdom of God. (Colossians 1:13) Full of grace and redemption, this replanting restores in us what was lost at creation.

However, what do we do when our little sapling is battered? Because obviously, all is not smooth sailing. Storm-ridden seas will undoubtedly pummel our planting. I wish I had known a framework where I could tuck unthinkable pain. But only recently, after studying the Kingdom of God, did I arrive at a structure I felt firm enough to hold the weight of life’s wreckage.

Here it is, and I hope it helps: our roots of faith grow in an unshakable, yet besieged Kingdom.

Our roots of faith grow in an unshakable Kingdom of God.

To borrow a paraphrase of Matthew 11:12 from Dr. Douglas O’Donnell, “The Kingdom of God is always suffering violence at the hands of the violent men.” (Think Herod and the babies he slaughtered in pursuit of Jesus.) Read that one more time. “The Kingdom of God is always suffering violence at the hands of violent men.”

“Suffering violence” feels so apropos to our deepest griefs, doesn’t it?

In the face of such dark attacks, we need tremendous honesty and courage. So this is what we will do, this is our manifesto:

We will sink our roots into our unshakable Kingdom. We will allow the wind to whip and the tears to fall, but we will trust that He will not fail.
Like a sniper, we will fix our aim on our enemy and we don’t back down. Our bullets will be prayers and our sword the Word of God.
Set on mission, we will repair the violence against His Kingdom with selfless acts of mercy, kindness, forgiveness and love.
We will hold dear, oh so dear, the blessedness of mourning. Meekness. Mercy. Purity. Peacemaking. And persecution.

Please, my dear, when you fall, (when, not if), etch your honest questions and deepest concerns. Then, summon your courage, rise upon one knee, and remember this manifesto. For we flourish in an ostensibly ironic Kingdom, where the way up is down and suffering produces fruit.

But honestly, I wouldn’t want to dwell anywhere else. Because in God’s Kingdom, He takes wreckage and begets wonder.

February 21, 2023

Moments Crammed with Mercy

I love listening to the Gospels. Set free from the constraints of reading, my imagination opens up and runs free. Like a screenplay playing in my mind, scenes unfold revealing what mattered most to Jesus. Painting in color, I feel the crowds press close and almost taste the broken bread shared at the table. I hear Jesus’ rebuking tone respond to the indignant Pharisees, and feel his gentle touch upon an unclean leper.

On a recent snowy morning, I allowed my mind to wander as my thoughts turned inward. What If those closest to me wrote an 18,000 word play about my life? What would they write? What conversations would be immortalized? What moments would be penned, and what would be too frivolous to be mentioned? And since we are little images of Jesus in this broken world, how would my script compare to Jesus’?

Of the many things true about Jesus, one thing stands out in the book of Matthew. Jesus’ moments were crammed with mercy. Time and time again.

For example, remember that time Jesus came down from the transfiguration and was greeted by a crowd? When was the last time any of us returned from a retreat and liked being barraged by our family? “Mommy! Mommy,” they incessantly cry. But this is Jesus. Merciful. Compassionate. Approaching the crowd, a man fell down before Him and cried out, “Lord, have mercy on my son! He has seizures and is suffering greatly. He often falls into the fire or into the water.”

Can we do something profound and color in the black and white print before us? How would you feel if you were this father? What tone would your voice carry? Would you be weeping? Terrified? Desperate?

And what did Jesus do? “Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed at that moment.” (Matthew 15:18)

Mercy.

Tender compassion stirred deep in the bowels of his heart, and He acted. So should we.

Not that all of us have a gift of healing, or even many of us, but maybe we can be the one who picks up a battered or weary woman. Cleans her wounds. Carries her into a place of care. Sacrifice of our own time, agenda, tasks, prejudices, to walk with her to health. His teaching pushes to the fringes of our hearts, and His example to the fringes of society. The fringes of our heart that reaches our most stubborn sins, and the fringes of our society that shows mercy to the most afflicted.

But we are selfish. (I speak of myself here.) And fruitful maturity always bends our will to the way of God. Yet in that bending we are slowly stripped of our brittle, selfish, stubborn, strong wills.

I’m not asking you to do more. I’m suggesting we do less and see better. We do less so that we can open our time to God-ordained interruptions. And we see better because we notice people’s afflictions and respond in mercy. Kingdom mercy always pushes to the fringes.

Think of it this way, go about your normal day, driving carpools, grocery shopping, throwing towels in the dry, and wear mercy-colored glasses. See people as Jesus did, afflicted, needy, weary and heavy laden. Then, respond in mercy as the Holy Spirit prompts.

So as you ponder this, let me ask you a question. How would your daily life change if you chose to walk your journey with mercy colored glasses?

January 23, 2023

Finding Abundant Life in the I AM

I want to tell you a secret.

It is a story of my personal prison walls and a slow walk to abundant life.

The year is 2004. My husband, an Air Force Pilot, boomeranged across the globe flying in-and-out of combat zones. We had two children under the age of 2. (Hello crazy!) And my saving grace was afternoon nap time. With a cup of afternoon tea, and a side of thin mints, I would cuddle up on maroon sofa and study the book of John.

One afternoon I read John 10:10, “…I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

Immediately I thought, “Yeah right! You have got to be kidding me. That might come in the next stage of my life. The one where my husband no longer deploys, my children don’t spill something at every meal, and I am not completely sleep deprived!”

It was all I could do to make it through dinner, bath and bedtime before I collapsed in the living room at 8:30 pm and fell soundly asleep. That is, until a hungry cry woke me. I was exhausted, drained by my children, and often angry and bitter about my husband’s frequent departures at my time of need!

Is this the abundant life Christ spoke about in John 10? Barely enough life to hover between total defeat and just barely squeaking by every day? I felt quite cynical.

Can anyone relate?

Yet, here is the kicker, I now have five children, my husband has twice the workload and responsibility, and I still have to be careful that the waves of bitterness do not drown me like they once did. God didn’t deliver me out of a hard place. But He did set my soul free to find abundance smack dab in the middle of the hard place.

Over the next few months as I sipped my afternoon tea, God whispered a melody to me that continues to play in my heart ever since. Throughout the I Am’s of Jesus in the book of John, there runs a continuous melody line. This melody is the word LIFE. Step-by-precious step the great I AM led me out of my Egypt of bitterness and anger, and into a land flowing with milk and honey. A land in which I found life abundant – spiritually joyful, satisfying, free, and richly deep.

And so the I Am invites all of us. Those whose lives are riddled with bitterness, anger, worry, loneliness, or depression. May our hearts be opened to abundant life and wide open spaces through the power of the I AM.

(Adapted from Wanting More: Following the I AM into Abundant Life)

April 28, 2022

Resurrection People Living in an Easter World

As I have come to this side of Easter, something new grew in my heart. I gave my mind space for holy imagination, and painted strokes to fill in the picture on the pages. My heart journeyed through Maundy Thursday’s agonizing dread and anticipation. Friday’s harrowing grief of brutal torture and crucifixion. Onto silent Saturday. And finally, resurrection Sunday.

Like little vases on a windowsill, stuffed with water and wildflowers, the capacity of emotions burgeon within each day. Each vase holding a million molecules of stories. Their stories. Our stories. Because even when the story line differs, the emotions flow the same.

The dread of a biopsy or an illness. The march of grief in the wake of death. Silence in the waiting. Do you feel the drumbeat deep in your soul?

And, lest we forget, the celebration of life.

That last one is essential, because resurrection people are powerful people. We can be pulled from one vase and stuffed into another, and not whither. So what is the secret? Where do we find this vibrancy?

From streams of living water! Flowing deep in the caverns of our hearts. As we are planted and replanted, the water remains the same. Whether we are planted in the vase of seeming silence, or that of agonizing dread, we can drink deep and flourish.

I don’t want to hold out false hope. To be sure, pain always stings. I have known it sitting in a courtroom filled with dread. And times felt like God’s silence betrayed me. An abundant life is not void of sadness. But an abundant life is always overbrimming with hope that flourishing is possible.

So today, remember to drink deeply. He is a life-giver, in every planting season!

“Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:38

April 14, 2022

We Promise the Best is Yet to Come, but What if Tomorrow Holds Tragedy?

We sit in the middle of Holy Week. That place between enthusiastic Hosannas and the crucifixion of a friend and son, teacher and miracle worker. As if following the bullet across the stage of Hamilton, time slows down. This space encourages us to look around. Notice. To hear the whispers of unspoken anxiety, and dreams put on ice.

In this space, the disciples beckon me. I read the written word of Scripture. And I pencil in the unwritten emotions. Confusion. Hope. Distress. Love. All jumbled up together like atoms bouncing around under pressure. It really is no wonder the disciples fell asleep in the garden. Their eyelids certainly carried the exhaustion of their hearts.

I’m also thinking about a phrase that gets tossed around in Christian circles these days. In fact, I heard it this morning in a devotional. “The Best is Yet to Come.” But, in a world of cancer and car accidents, wars and heart attacks, what if tomorrow, or, perhaps tonight, the best is not to come? Where does that leave us?

Smack dab in the middle of Holy Week.

So, let me ask, at what point should we tell the disciples, “The best is yet to come?” While they huddled in fear after Jesus’ death? The resurrection certainly is amazing news, but for 3 years Jesus was a constant, physical presence, and he is about to leave them. Yes, Jesus’ ascension ushered in a new Presence, but, like babies on wobbly knees, did the disciples learn to walk with the Spirit? Just like us?

Should we tell them while they watch Steven stoned, or hear that James was beheaded? As Paul said in Acts 20:23, “I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me.”

Perhaps, nestled into the American Dream, we so desperately want “the best to come” because, at some level, we don’t believe heaven is better than what we have right now. Perhaps our understanding of what’s best is fundamentally flawed.

If any of this rings true to you, let’s flip the script. Together. Here is what I journaled this week:

Hardships are yet to come, but the best is already here. Merciful. Gracious. Love.

And when the worst hangs me out to dry upon the desert winds, I will trust Jesus’ love will hold me fast. In stark contrast to this often times brittle world, I know the bountiful love of Jesus will find me. The best is truly the Lord.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, You are the best. Forgive me when I get this wrong.

Once we get this straight, then we are more apt to flourish in the desert. To hold out hope for grace and beauty enough for today. Like 2 loaves and 5 fish, to feast on God’s Word and be satisfied. So much so, that there are still basketfuls leftover.

PS – One more thing, look for the little desert flowers that daringly push their way through dried cracks. They are found tucked in sunsets and snuggles, a good cup of coffee and a good morning stretch. This is certain to bring a smile. And goodness knows we need them every day!

Pressing towards heaven with you!

April 1, 2022

Beloved are You

Beloved are you who, like Eve, saw the vine dripping with delicacies and plucked it’s forbidden fruit. Many nights you have grieved a harvest stained by your past. Yet you rise from the ashes, clothed in garments of Righteousness, bearing the name, mother of the living.

Beloved are you who, like Sarah, snickered to yourself when you heard God’s lavish promises. Because month-by-month, and year-after-year, unwanted blood flowed carrying the hope of life in it’s tide. But you, wrapped in self-protection, slowly allowed God to untangle the knots of your heart. Unfurled, you wave the banner of God who delights in keeping his promises.

Beloved are you who, like Hagar, broke the bonds of abuse only to find yourself baking in the heat of a sun-scorched dead end. But God found you in the desert where you pain had cast you, and like an intimate companion you gave Him a name; you are the God who sees me.

Beloved are you who, like Naomi, are left a widow, adrift in a swirling dark ocean. You are a truth teller, and squarely place the blame upon the one who can quiet this wind and the waves. “Call me Mara,” you whisper, “because the Almighty, the El Shaddai, my All-Sufficient One, has made my life very bitter.” Yet, the waves of love and the raft of all-sufficiency pushed you to a shore of grace. And you chose hope in the face of death.

Beloved are you who, like Deborah, lead with justice. When others did not rise up to the challenge, you stepped over your fear, picked up your sword, and wielded it for righteousness. And beloved are you who, like Jael, used your cunning wisdom and mapped a shrewd plan. Masquerading as a safe harbor, victory lay in your grasp. Your courage is a beacon of light to follow.

Beloved are you who, like Martha, offer your hands and feet with the hidden sacred work of home and hospitality. You, who nurture children, kneed the bread, soak the lentils, and whose eyes fill with tears as each onion is sliced and each small memory is tucked into the secret pockets of your heart. Many generations arise and call you blessed.

Beloved are you who, like Mary, weep at the feet of death. The treasure once stored securely within, is now exposed, bruised, and beaten. Yet death is no victor. You rest cocooned in the certain grace for our today and hope for our tomorrow. For one day, the brightness of a thousand suns will call us home to be forever with those we love.

Beloved are you, daughter of the King, when you are trapped in a nightmare. Beloved are you in your fanfare of triumphs, and when the stars of your journey align in a perfect constellation. Beloved are you when your story is as twisted as barbwire, and your soul feels as warped as a battered house on the seaside. Beloved are you from the rising of your sun to it’s setting.

Beloved are you.

Beloved are you.

March 4, 2022

Hearts on Ukraine

Only a few times over the past week have I cracked my heart open to feel the weight of what is happening in Ukraine. Most of the time I protect my heart from the full capacity of this sorrow, because “boots on the ground hits different when you have skin in the game.”

Not that I have any skin in this particular battle, but emotions are stored like chips in our hardware; so, for a military spouse it is too easy to go back. To feel the depth of anxiety and fear that perhaps floods my heart more decisively now that I don’t need to pull on my big girl pants and be brave for the crowd.

Which, by the way, is not wrong. For the sake of my children and the people we serve, I must stand with courage on the homefront. However, I can look at photos of despairing women and children and in a small way understand the complexity of their distress. I can cry along with them and hold their fear as my own.

So, my dears, in the wake of our distress this is what we are going to do: We are going to open our hearts to feel the agonizing sorrow, and then we are going to step out and love deeply. We are going to be the boots on the ground of our communities because we have skin in this game. Our families. Our neighbors. Our friends. Our co-workers.

We are not going to love in pixelated squares or follows, but we are going to be the actual hands and feet of Jesus to our actual neighbors.

We are going to listen to Faye’s story about standing alongside the suffering and we are going to SHOW UP for our people. It doesn’t take gusto or exorbitant time. But it does take intentionality and discipline to choose love.

And in case you think I’m merely preaching what you must do better, I’m actually telling the world what I must do better. Together is not only better, together is the only way forward. So together it must be, in love and service.

I charge us to walk through our day and listen to our people. To ask the question, who needs tangible love right now? To see them and be the boots on the ground they so desperately need! You cannot reach the world, but you can reach your neighbor.

The women who followed Jesus to the tomb

Bound by love

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