Maturing

I got an unexpected phone call from a dear friend of mine awhile ago. I happened to be completely alone and in a perfect place to talk, so we spent about 20 minutes or so deep in conversation. It was the most edifying conversation I'd had in a long, long time. And truthfully, that was the best way to describe it. Edifying. Every time I'm with this particular friend -- A Mature Godly Woman -- either in person or on the phone, I leave completely uplifted, encouraged and edified. I leave feeling fed. Feeling equipped. Feeling called. And that particular day, I hung up the phone with such hope, joy and anticipation…elated…like I was walking on air.

"The heartfelt counsel of a friend is as sweet as perfume and incense." (Proverbs 27:9, NLT)

And then.


I immediately had an interaction that was totally the opposite. The negativity left an ick all over me that I couldn't shake fast enough. It had an odor to it, a distaste that was palpable. The unpleasant and depressing nature of the interaction almost knocked the wind out of my sails.


Almost.


As I was left alone with my thoughts after two such extreme and ironic examples, I realized something had instantaneously ignited a fire in my soul: a need be more like my friend. Not just a wanting to be more mature or godly or encouraging…but a real need to become that person.


It's all I think about.

"Happy is the man who does not walk in the way sinful men tell him to, or stand in the path of sinners, or sit with those who laugh at the truth. But he finds joy in the Law of the Lord and thinks about His Law day and night. This man is like a tree planted by rivers of water, which gives its fruit at the right time and its leaf never dries up. Whatever he does will work out well for him." (Psalm 1:1-3, NLV)

Since that day, I've heard several unsolicited testimonies from people who shared similar stories of A Mature Godly Woman and what an impact she left on them. A prophetic and encouraging word that literally saved her life from a woman she just met only moments before. A friend who just grabbed her hands to pray in the coffee shop. The mentor who was able to cut through facade to call out the real issue, making the way for healing, growth and maturity. Women who compel you by their love of Christ. Women you don't put on a pedestal, but admire for their godly characteristics…the same godly characteristics that leave you convicted about your own carnal ones.

"When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly." (Proverbs 31:26, MSG)

I've been the recipient of having relationship with several Mature Godly Women too many times to count. It's rather unfair, to be honest. I've been fed, blessed, prayed on, encouraged, edified and uplifted. I've received and received and received. I know first-hand the amazing peace and joy that is awash over me for days after an encounter with them. Women, who while walking in the Spirit daily, sense the prompting of the Lord to do and say and be what He's leading at any given moment.

"All who are led by God’s Spirit are God’s sons and daughters." (Romans 8:14, NLV) 

Most importantly, women who aren't afraid to do and say and be what He's leading at any given moment.

And there it is. The F-word that keeps me from maturing:


Fear.


Fear of alienating people who might not understand. Fear of alienating people who don't want to understand. Fear people will think I consider myself better than them, even though that's not the case at all. Fear that I'll try and fail. Fear God will call me to let go of things I have a pretty firm grip on. Fear I won't be able to let go at all. 


And mostly, fear I won't have the discipline required to get there.


Fear, fear, fear.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9, ESV)

But what's driving me now, more than the fear (finally) is the need. I can't find a way to really explain it. I simply need to mature past my childish ways. I need to let go of negativity and petty offenses. I need to get beyond myself in order to be fully myself.


Does that make sense?


It's a need to be obedient.


I guess a simpler way to put it is "It's Time."


There seems to be a specific point (or several specific points) in a Christian's life (or maybe just mine, lucky you) where God has had enough and He calls you (me) out. It's a tangible time when God is gently, yet firmly, saying: 

"That's enough. You were created for more than this. You're settling for good and I'm calling you to great. You're not where you should be. I really, really, REALLY don't want you to miss out on what I have planned. It's so good…you have no idea, it's so good. So please, let's go. I love you and I'm with you. It's time."

It's Time to fully engage. It's Time to set aside my insecurity and fear and awkwardness and just be ready to move forward.


It's Time.


And so now comes the hard part: 

• What do I do? How do I do it? 
• Is there one big moment I'm supposed to look out for? 
• Is it saying no when I want to say yes...and saying yes when I want to say no? 
• Is it a series of daily choices that seem small but add up to big character changes? 
• Is it recognizing an opportunity when the Holy Spirit quietly and gently nudges me to it? 
• Is it ignoring my impulse to punch someone in the face for offending me or someone I love, and choosing to pray for them instead?
• Is it (gulp) being disciplined?

And when I ask these questions of God, I get one answer:


Yes.


Yes to looking out for big moments. Yes to making small choices each day. Yes to recognizing opportunities that come in a still small voice.

"Your teacher will be right there, local and on the job, urging you on whenever you wander left or right: 'This is the right road. Walk down this road.'"(Isaiah 30:21, MSG)

Yes to discipline. Yes to believing that God has a purpose and a plan beyond what I think I deserve. And then choosing to receive it, even if I feel unworthy, ill-equipped or too sinful.

"No one's ever seen or heard anything like this, never so much as imagined anything quite like it—what God has arranged for those who love him. But you've seen and heard it because God by his Spirit has brought it all out into the open before you. The Spirit, not content to flit around on the surface, dives into the depths of God, and brings out what God planned all along." (1 Corinthians 2:9-10, MSG)

And most important, yes to prayer. Yes to praying day-by-day (or hour-by-hour, or minute-by-minute) for the strength to resist my carnal impulses and urges. Yes to praying for a heart to pray for those who've hurt me instead of avenging in my heart. Yes to praying that I won't participate in gossip, slander or negativity even though it's so easy to jump in and go along with it. Yes to praying that I will stop and pray instead of immediately reacting when something happens. Yes to praying that I'll recognize when the tests and trials of this exact nature come…knowing that nothing of God is worth anything until it's been through the fire.

"I know how great this makes you feel, even though you have to put up with every kind of aggravation in the meantime. Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure." (1 Peter 1:6-7a, MSG)

It's seeing that person in my mind's eye that I want to be…and allowing her to emerge slowly and intentionally, in a process that comes about solely in a choice-by-choice manner.


This post has been a month in the making; working on it a little here and a little there. I think part of the reason it's taken me so long is because I know for a fact that once I click "publish post," it means GAME ON for me and this journey. But just today, I had to really struggle with my flesh about something. And the easiest way for me to wrestle through my spirit and flesh is to write. 


So I wrote and re-wrote. 


And then I cried. And that's when I knew it was time to publish it. When there are tears involved, it is complete.


And now that it's complete, It's Time.

"The LORD your God is going before you. He will fight for you just as he fought for you in Egypt while you watched, and as you saw him do in the desert. Throughout your entire journey, until you reached this very place, the LORD your God has carried you just as a parent carries a child." (Deuteronomy 1:30-31, CEB)

At least I'm not alone.

Falling. Again.

Autumn brings a joy to my soul that I can't contain. I absolutely marvel at the explosive bursts of color that seem to appear overnight, and am literally caught breathless at the sight of mountains alive with yellows and oranges and reds. 


Each autumn, I'm reminded of something God taught me a few years ago. It was October of 2008 when God used Jaana to first bring this revelation to light for me. And every fall since, as I am struck speechless at autumn's beauty, He gently reminds me again and again of this insight.


Below is my original post from October 2008. Happy falling.

* * *

FALLING

It’s the crispness in the air, the deep blue of the sky, the variety of color in the leaves. It’s the golden glow that seems to never end, the anticipation of change, the welcome relief of a new season. It's like autumn awakens my soul. 

Every fall I point out to my daughter the varying colors in the leaves. She’s so trained for this she now points it out herself, but also adds her 4 year-old dramatic flair, “Oh my gosh Mommy, look at that red one. Isn’t it the most beautiful leaf you ever saw?” 

One day, in the midst of our awe over the leaves, she looked at a tree and I could see her little mind pondering for a moment. Then she asked me, “Mommy, are those leaves dying?” 

Her question took me off guard. Of course I knew that in autumn the leaves fall off the trees and onto the ground. But I guess I just always assumed it was winter that was the “death” part of nature. 

But really, Jaana was right…in fall is where dying occurs. 

As living creatures, we marvel at the beauty of fall. We celebrate the colors it brings, the change, the new season. But for that little leaf hanging on the tree, I don't think it feels so beautiful. I think it misses the extra hours of sun shining on it day after day after day. As it slowly lose the greenness that makes it feel like a real leaf, I bet it feels lonely; probably wondering why the sun has deserted it and feels like it was left to die. 

As I thought about Jaana’s question, I was suddenly struck by a thought. God must think it’s beautiful too. Not just the actual season of fall, but the autumns of our soul. He must marvel at our beauty when we start to lose the habits, characteristics and sin nature that need to be shed from our lives. We feel like that leaf -- the painful and slow death of our flesh. We grasp to hold on with feverish determination, not wanting to let go of what we know and what is comfortable. We wonder what happened to the Son, why doesn’t it feel like He’s shining on me anymore? 

But the truth is that the Son is still there, always constant. Sometimes He feels hidden by the clouds of our circumstances. Sometimes the night seems to fall sooner and we lose our faith. But He's always there. We just might not be facing Him. 

And as we live out the season, gasping for breath, trying to hold on for dear life…God is watching closely, marveling and saying 

"Isn't she beautiful? She takes My breath away." 

Then he sits back and reflects that it is good, it is good, it is good. 


Then we fall to the ground and feel broken. But the most beautiful part of the process is that the winter comes to insulate. And come spring, new life sprouts forth. Bigger and more beautiful.

God loves us too much to let us stay green. Autumns of our souls are a crucial part we cannot ignore in the process of life. When we’re going through difficult transitions in life, God is watching…celebrating the new season and marveling at the beauty of His creation…letting us feel enough of the Son shine to get us through the day. 

“Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love.” (Psalm 31:16)

Preparing

I've been ruminating on a concept for awhile. And by awhile, I mean a couple years. Really. (And can I add, I love the word "ruminating?" That's my English minor at work, people.) But this concept is one of preparedness; or rather, the tension between trusting in God in an area, yet actively waiting and preparing while you trust. It's a blurry, gray and fuzzy line between the two. At least when it pertains to me, it is -- when it's other people's circumstances and situations, the line is very clear. But when I'm trying to see it for myself, I get all caught up in the vortex of doubt, chaos, faith and action. It's becomes a paralyzing uncertainty that renders my feet glued to the floor. 

Therefore, I do nothing.

I joke that my major in college was Rationalization and my minor was Justification. Because truly, I can spin any situation or circumstance to the slant I want it to have. (I'm not bragging about this, I find it rather repulsive.) However, it comes in handy when one works in advertising and graphic design. 

"See, the lamp I used in the logo represents us being the light of the world, and how the Word is a lamp unto our feet."

When really, I just thought the lamp made the logo look better.

(I'm just being honest.)

And it's worse when I'm talking myself in or out of doing or not doing something in my life. Specifically related to a particular dream I have. And so, over the years, I've gotten really, really good at convincing myself that I should or shouldn't pursue it based on my Rationalization and Justification abilities. Generally, my rationalizing and justifying stems from a deep insecurity or fear. Sometimes procrastination. Often laziness. But for the most part, I'm afraid. Afraid of succeeding and being discovered a fraud. Afraid of failing and disappointing myself. Afraid of failing and confirming I'm not any good anyway. Afraid that if I continue to do nothing, I'll live to see everyone else around me fulfilling my dream, and have to live with that constant, nagging reminder that I sat and did. nothing. about. it. But I could rationalize and justify why all the live-long day.

Someone whose blog I follow posted recently about something she had been eager to share for almost a year. She relayed, in detail, the story she wanted to share and the end result of what had been happening. And when I finished reading it, I was in a heap of tears. She wrote about my dream. I wanted to curl up in a fetal position and give up forever. Seeing this dream fulfilled was becoming dimmer and dimmer a reality to me. 

I've prayed about this dream, I've fasted about this dream. I've received confirmations from people about this dream, without being asked. But I sit and wait for the One Big Sign From God about moving forward...because, I rationalize, I can't move forward without a "Go!" written in the clouds, or a burning bush, or an audible Word from God. Then I justify my lack of pursuing with very valid reasons such as, "I'm busy working," or "I've got an almost two-year-old," and "We're going to Maui, you know." 

And the most ironic part of all is that if you would've asked me five years ago what my dream was, I would have never believed I even had one. Yet now I do. And I'm doing nothing about it.

Which brings me to preparedness, and actively waiting on the Lord. And this whole topic stems from the story of David and Goliath, oddly enough. 

As I mentioned earlier, I've been meditating on this story and concept for a long time. Recently at church, our youth did a production about the life of David, and our current sermon series is on David. So this idea has taken new life and has been nagging at the forefront of my mind. And one phrase in one verse is the trigger for this very verbose post:

"Then he took his staff in his hand, chose five smooth stones from the stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd's bag, and with the sling in his hand, approached the Philistine." (1 Samuel 17:40)

Imagine, if you will, young David boldly volunteering himself to King Saul for this monstrous task of fighting Goliath. He's confident, maybe a little cocky. After trying on the King's armor and realizing his small stature in the face of such an enormous battle...I wonder if his confidence started to fade, just a little bit.

He walks over to a stream and chose five smooth stones. I wonder how long it took for him to choose those five stones? Splashing around in the stream, feeling the water pool around his ankles...I wonder if he used the "choosing of stones" time to pray and talk to God about what he was about to do? I wonder if he saw God's reflection waving in the water near his feet as he looked through to the bottom? I wonder if he saw God walking on water then, even before Peter did?

The most absolutely fascinating concept to me here is the way David went into battle. Was it spontaneous? Yes. Was it a little insane? Probably. Was he unprepared? Absolutely not. We know it only took one stone from his sling shot to kill Goliath. And David was confident enough in God's ability to work through him to volunteer in the first place. Yet, he took time to choose five smooth stones to have in his arsenal. 

Are you picking up what I'm putting down here? David went into battle armed with more than what he needed to succeed. He went in prepared.

"Fly by the seat of your pants" is a concept that Christians use regularly when it comes to decisions in life and trusting God. Most of the time, we assume that if we just wake up and "feel" like we should do something, we jump into it headlong with no preparation for what could possibly happen. 

And yes, sometimes it works. We definitely are guided daily, moment-by-moment by the Holy Spirit, listening for which way to go. But so very often, especially in the biggest battles of life, sit back and rest on our Holy Ghost laurels. We assume He'll swoop in and rescue, requiring very little effort on our parts.

In this story of David (and by the way, he was an actual person, not just a Bible character), we see he does the exact opposite. David didn't have a guarantee he'd get out alive in the battle. All he knew for sure was that God could save him, not that He would. 

So David prepared. He carefully and intentionally chose more than enough stones for the task at hand. He studied them, selected them and was prepared to use them if need be. Yet with just the first one he picked up and set into his weapon, God guided that stone as it soared through the air, and directed it to land exactly where it did. And when it was all over, David walked away with four unused smooth stones.

I wonder if God has those placed on David's mantel in his heavenly mansion?

I am beginning to realize that I'm entering into this dream I have -- or rather, this battle for my dream -- totally unprepared. I'm expecting to slay the giant. But not only do I have a single stone, it's rough and bumpy, not smooth. And I keep checking out everyone else's stinking armor and wishing I looked as good in it as they do. And I keep thinking that just because I want it, it'll happen. If any of the girls I mentor came to me with this ridiculous nonsense, I'd slap them into reality and then settle in for a good talk. Because really. I know better than this! Don't I?

I'm "considering" fighting, but with just one stone, which I'm pretty sure is just a rental and not in my ownership. God cannot guide a non-existent stone. Did you catch that? Did I catch that? God cannot guide a non-existent stone. But, He can take an insignificant one -- smoothed out by the sands and waves of life -- and make it soar like an eagle, skipping across the waters multiple times, leaving ripples and ripples of effect in its wake.

But first I have to find it. And own it. And put it in my pocket. And then get a few more. And then I have to actually use one. Actually, I might have to use all of them. And if God so chooses to guide my stones elsewhere, I really, really, REALLY want to be okay with that. I want my "choosing of stones" time to be filled with true communion with God. I want to see His reflection waving in the waters as I look through my dream. I want to see God walking on the water of this dream. I want it to mean something...I want the whole journey to mean something.

I'm ready to go stone shopping. Wanna come?

Mothering

Even at seven and one-and-a-half years old, I still check on them a couple times a night to make sure they're breathing. Especially if one of them is sick or has had any kind of medicine.

I secretly get excited when one is sick because it means they will just lay with me in their PJ's and snuggle.

At the park or after school, if I see or hear about another kid being mean-spirited to mine, the Mama Bear in me comes out and I want to throw blows and that that child down. Even if they are two.

I compare every other kid I meet to mine, and always come to the same conclusion - mine are better. (No offense.)

When I think about life with either of them, it seems so gray, boring and incomplete.

I will spoil them rotten as often as possible simply because I love watching their faces light up.

I get sad that I can't remember well what they were really like even just a year ago; they change so much...so fast.

Even when they resist, or erupt in tears, I do what's best for them because I'm raising people, not just having babies.

I sympathize when my head tells me not to. I discipline when my heart resists.

I cave when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I hold strong when their big, blue eyes bat at me and they say "Mommy" in that sweet and tender voice.

I'm a Mom. It's what I do.

There are two fundamental truths that Mothers will continue to pass down through the end of time. One is that regardless of the situation, the decision or the outcome...there is always something for a Mom to feel guilty about. The other is that every Mom will fail miserably in some way, shape or form. And our daughters and sons will recognize that failure and be determined to make it better when they have kids.

But what we fail to recognize in our guilt and failure -- what will give us comfort and relieve some of the pressure -- is that this has been the cycle since Eve. It's a continuous ebb-and-flow of doing great, and failing greatly. Thousands of years later, the cry is the same. I'm sure Eve's daughter at some point said, "How could Mom have been such an idiot?!"

Sometimes, as I'm scratching Jaana's back, I wonder what the cry to her child will be. Will she say, "I swear I will never be on the computer as much as your Grandma!" Or, "She never just played Barbies with me. All I ever wanted was for her to sit and play Barbies."

As all mothers have done from beginning of time to today, we do the best we know how to do. And somedays our best is better than others. We love our children with as much love as we can hold in our human form. We make fools out of ourselves for them; we also take them for granted. We smother them with love and affection; we also put them to bed at night and wonder if they even felt like we loved them at all that day. We notice every little detail of their faces; we also study them some mornings and wonder when all the freckles erupted, or when they got so tall. We think we know every little thing about them; and then realize we might not really know them at all.

It's the best, worst, hardest and most rewarding job to have. The only way to do it and do it remotely well is through prayer and the wisdom and strength of Christ. Because really, at the end of the day, knowing I'll fail them eventually at their greatest point of need scares me to death. But if I pursue each day with Jesus, then I know that even when I do fail, He will be there to mend their broken pieces and stop the hemorrhaging the way only He can. He's the ultimate Mama when our humanity gets in the way of our own mothering.

As I celebrate this Mother's Day, I'm asking for a fresh anointing and realization of what motherhood means. I don't want to take any moment for granted. This is a precious job I've been given. Rather, a most precious job I've been blessed with. And if I could do it free of the chains of guilt and failure, what a valuable legacy I could leave with them.

"Lord, I serve you. I serve you just as my mother did. 

You have set me free from the chains of my suffering." 

(Psalm 116:16)

Random Acts of (Birthday) Kindness

So. I turned 38 yesterday. And if I've learned nothing in the last 38 years, I've learned this: Birthdays are better in the 21st century.

I had some hilarious and heart-warming voice mails that so made me smile and laugh and shed a slight tear of missing people dearly. Then there were text messages. I had a couple e-Cards. Had cards mailed to me. Some were hand delivered with flowers and even a cake. (A cake!) The best part? Facebook birthday greetings. It's like all the people you'd invite to your wedding all bid you a "Happy Birthday" at the same time. Like the end-of-reception send off with bubbles, but in html code.

God has a great way of sending little winks and smiles and love to you on your birthday, if you look out for them. I had some unexpected blessings all day long; from a birthday cake, to flowers, to cards. And the most outlandish, lavish thing happened on Sunday night.

First -- a little backstory.

Paxton was sick on Sunday morning, so my dad stayed home with him while I took Jaana to church. After church, I swung by the house to pick them up so we could all go out to eat. (Even a sick boy needs lunch, right?) We went to my favorite place to get Green Bean Fries with Cucumber and Wasabi Ranch and I ate about three-quarters of the basket all. to. my. self.

We had a fabulous time at lunch - eating, laughing and enjoying each other. We ran into some friends from church and all socialized for a moment.

After lunch, we came home and let Paxton sleep. Jaana and I went to lay outside and just relax. She played, I read, we laughed and ate Jello. I took some of the most amazing pictures of her.

It was perfection.

Greg and I had a dinner date and went to a place in Highlands I had always wanted to go to. It's a cute, little place on Lake Sequoyah and we got there just before the sun was setting.

There were only two other tables taken there on that Sunday night. We chose a table by the windows so we could look at the lake and sat by another couple. After we sat down, they suddenly turned to us and said, "Weren't you at such-and-such restuarant at lunch this afternoon?"

We couldn't recall them at that place, but we had been there, so we said yes.

They asked specifically about things we had told the other friends at lunch - about my dad visiting from Washington State and about my daughter and baby. We chit-chatted for about 10 minutes at the most throughout the course of dinner. They were visiting town from Charlotte; we never mentioned my birthday, never exchanged names. At best, it was elevator small talk.

Greg and I had appetizers, entrees and dessert. (Let me insert here that I had FRIED BRIE and POMEGRANATE LAMB RIBS and A WAFFLE CONE SUNDAE WITH KAHLUA FUDGE.) (It was my cheat day, after all.) (And my birthday.) (Don't judge me!) The other couple left before we ordered dessert.

After we had savored the last of our desserts, the waiter came by to ask if we wanted anything else. We groaned, grabbed our stomachs and said, oh no, we couldn't possibly.

Then he said to us:

"Well then, they didn't want me to say anything to you until they left and you were finished. But the couple that was sitting next to you paid for your meal."

? ? ?

Huh? 'Squeeze me? (This was the intellectual extent of our response to our waiter.)

Greg and I sat there like idiots with our mouths hung open and didn't know how to respond. We were floored. Utterly perplexed and overwhelmingly blessed. We thanked him, asked for the total so we could tip him, and sat there speechless.

Just when you start to lose hope in humanity. Just when you begin to think that in life people are out to solely suck you dry, take all they can from you and leave you lifeless. Just when you've drawn boundaries for the sake of your own sanity, even though it hurts and you're never sure you've done the right thing. Just when you've reached a point of exhaustion and say, "I just can't. I can't. I'm sorry, I wish I could...but I can't."

Just then.

God winks at you saying, "I got this."

In the scope of eternity it wasn't much. The price of a meal doesn't compare to what this life with Christ requires. Sometimes along the Christ-Walk, you lose relationships that are invaluable. Sometimes along the way you mourn for what you don't have. Sometimes along the way you wish you could change people and circumstances and the past...but you can't. All you can do is what God is asking you to do and move forward. It's always in obedience, but never effortless and easy. Never painless.

But just when that cost and effort and pain get to where it's almost unbearable, God jumps in with something so insignificant yet magnificent all wrapped into one. And He smiles down on you and wraps you in His love and says, "I got this. I got you. I got you. No one else. Just me."

We left that night just asking God over and over to bless that sweet couple with a double-portion blessing over whatever their current need is. Because whoever they are, and whatever is going on in their life, I know God will honor their blessing. They have no idea how much that one act of random kindness meant to me, and how much hurt I had been struggling with even up to that specific day. But God knew. And I know and trust He will honor their obedience and knock their socks off more than He's knocked off mine.

"God is about to bring you into a good land, a land with brooks and rivers, springs and lakes, streams out of the hills and through the valleys. It's a land of wheat and barley, of vines and figs and pomegranates, of olives, oil and honey. It's land where you'll never go hungry -- always food on the table and a roof over your head. It's a land where you'll get iron out of rocks and mine copper from the hills. After a meal, satisfied, bless God, your God, for the good land he has given you." 

- Deuteronomy 8:7-11

Rising

Matthew 28


After the Sabbath, as the first light of the new week dawned, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to keep vigil at the tomb. Suddenly the earth reeled and rocked under their feet as God's angel came down from heaven, came right up to where they were standing. He rolled back the stone and then sat on it. Shafts of lightning blazed from him. His garments shimmered snow-white. The guards at the tomb were scared to death. They were so frightened, they couldn't move.


The angel spoke to the women: 


"There is nothing to fear here. I know you're looking for Jesus, the One they nailed to the cross. He is not here. He was raised, just as he said. Come and look at the place where he was placed. Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, 'He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.' That's the message."


The women, deep in wonder and full of joy, lost no time in leaving the tomb. They ran to tell the disciples. Then Jesus met them, stopping them in their tracks. "Good morning!" he said. They fell to their knees, embraced his feet, and worshiped him. Jesus said, "You're holding on to me for dear life! Don't be frightened like that. Go tell my brothers that they are to go to Galilee, and that I'll meet them there."


Meanwhile, the guards had scattered, but a few of them went into the city and told the high priests everything that had happened. They called a meeting of the religious leaders and came up with a plan: They took a large sum of money and gave it to the soldiers, bribing them to say, "His disciples came in the night and stole the body while we were sleeping." They assured them, "If the governor hears about your sleeping on duty, we will make sure you don't get blamed." The soldiers took the bribe and did as they were told. That story, cooked up in the Jewish High Council, is still going around.


Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.


Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: 

"God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I'll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age."

* * *

Jesus rose. And in that rising some important things happened:

1) God's angel came down

2) He appeared to the women first

3) The women were full of joy

4) The guards were scared to death

5) The angel ignored the guards and spoke to the women

6) The guards scattered

7) The women did as the angel instructed
8) Jesus met the women first

9) He greeted the women and gave them a specific mission

10) They left to do it immediately

11) He reunited with the disciples

12) Some disciples worshipped Him

13) Some disciples were unsure of the risk

14) He paid no mind to their indecision

15) He gave another specific mission and told them to go

16) He promised to be with them every single day

Has Christ appeared to you?

What is your reaction? 

Are you full of joy or struck with fear?

Has Christ spoken to you?

How do you respond? 

Do you go immediately or scatter?

Are you a women? 

What have you been called to do? 

Did you recognize Jesus along the way?

Are you a disciple? 

Have you met with Him?

Do you worship Him totally or are you unsure of the risk?

Has He given you a mission?

Do you go in His name?

Do you experience His presence daily as you do it?

This Resurrection Sunday, take a moment to reflect on what He has called you to do and how you've responded. As you realize the mission He's placed before you, worship Him completely, without regard to the risk. Then waste no time getting there. Just go.

Happy Easter. He is risen; He is risen indeed.

Running. Free.

I never used to be a runner. Oh, but I ran.

I ran away from God and toward everything that was the opposite. I ran from love to pain. From deep to shallow. From worthwhile to worthless, pursuing everything that was temporal and nothing that was eternal.

It started 15 years ago when I ran toward an escape. Life was getting really hard and really complicated. I graduated college. My parents divorced. My best friend got married. My mom remarried. So I boarded a plane in Seattle and almost five hours later was greeted by my dad at the gate in Atlanta with a "Welcome Home."

Not surprisingly I fell into a pretty big depression, although at the time I didn't recognize it. And when God tried to reach out to me, I refused His hand and ran.

And I ran fast; broke records; sprinted with all that was in me.

Time passed. My mom had another baby; I had a sister. She died. Life continued to get more difficult and more complicated.

So I ran further. I ran faster. I ran harder.

I covered a lot of territory when I was running. Marathon-worthy, really -- 26.2 miles of desperation, neediness, loneliness and fear -- from corner to corner in Atlanta. 

And then, what happens to most runners, happened to me - I hit the wall. I crashed and I burned. Everything blew up in my face, fell apart around me, and I just. couldn't. take. another. minute.

It was night, it was dark, and I was alone. And lonely. And broken. And confused. And lost. I got down on my knees and did the only thing I knew to do -- I stopped. 

From that moment on, life as I knew it changed. Those I was in relationship moved on or moved away; life intervened (rather, God intervened) and physically removed all the hinderances that kept me from pursuing Him instead of everything else. I found a church and spent six months in the back row on Sunday nights crying my eyes out. It was healing. I was healing.

As I ran toward God, He stood before me with His arms wide open, anticipating for my arrival. And He was smiling. And as I ran, He showered me with grace and mercy even though I was covered in ashes as I ran. He embraced the bag upon bag of garbage I brought with me on the run, and tossed it over His shoulder without so much as a word.

But I continued to look back at it. It was hard for me to let go of the shame, guilt and condemnation of the race I had been running. 

* * *

I started running last summer. Physically running - outside, on the treadmill, on a track. For some reason I had a longing to start when I was pregnant, and as soon as I was physically able I started the process. 

First I would walk a little, then jog a little. Slowly, week by week and month by month, I was able to run longer and longer. My first three-mile run felt good. My first five-mile run felt great. My first six-mile run was amazing.

At Christmas, I announced to Greg that I wanted to sign up for a race. I registered myself for the Georgia Half Marathon. I figured if I was up to six miles already, then getting to 13.1 in three more months would be a piece of cake. I registered. Game on.

Then we started Beth Moore's updated Breaking Free Bible Study at church. I was participating, but had no specific bondage I thought I needed freedom from. God decided differently.

As we approached race day, I had not really focused on the race route whatsoever. I knew it was starting and ending in "downtown Atlanta," but I did not look at the course at all. As the Bible Study started, I decided to look at the full course map. And then fear overtook me. Shame crept in, and brought with it Guilt and Condemnation.

The race course was along almost every part of Atlanta that I had "lived" previously. All the places I had been, the places I hung out, everywhere that represented who I was and how I had lived. God was telling me, "It's time for you to break free from your past. I have forgotten it, but you haven't. Why?"

It was time for me to break free. I had no idea.

As I trained for the race, God started showing me images of myself running through those very places I used to run to. But this time, instead of running to them as a means of escape, I was running through them as a new creation. And with each mile, I was scooping up heaps of ashes of my past. I saw myself crossing the finish line. As I crossed, He declared over me, "It is finished." 

I stopped and wept.

* * *

A multi-marathoner once told me, "You're only called a 'runner' once you wear that bib on your shirt. Until then, you just run."

On race day, I woke up and got ready. I laced up my shoes, and pinned my bib to my shirt. It said "16177, Monica." I was officially a runner.

As I approached the starting line, fear started to let loose. As I got going and hit the first couple of miles, everything drifted away and I just ran. It was just me doing what I like to do. A few times I approached places that tempted me with haunting memories, but instead of falling victim to them, I just pressed on, arms pumping and head down. Then I started to approach one particular area of town that held many painful memories, and as I rounded the corner of the intersection I saw throngs of people cheering on all the runners. Finally, I was able to let myself smile and enjoy the race.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, 

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. 

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." 

(Hebrews 12:1)

I felt free.

When I crossed the finish line, a woman put a medal around my neck and said, "Congratulations!" Next a man approached and wrapped me in a foil blanket to trap in the heat. It was over. It was finished.

I was finished.

* * *

Now I'm a runner, but don't just run. 

I run to God and away from everything that's the opposite. I run from pain to love. From shallow to deep. From worthless to worthwhile, pursuing everything that's eternal and trying desperately to avoid everything that is temporal.

I'm slower than I used to be. But I'm consistent. I'm steady. And most importantly, I finish.

I don't have a medal, but wear a crown of beauty instead of ashes (Isaiah 61:3). I don't have a foil blanket, but I have a garment of praise (Isaiah 61:3) and His banner over me is love (Song of Songs 2:4). I still have a bib on my shirt, but instead of a number, it says, "Monica - cleansed, forgiven and redeemed."

It also says, "Runner."

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; 

my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task 

the Lord Jesus has given me -- the task of testifying 

to the good news of God's grace." 

(Acts 20:24)

"When you walk, your steps will not be hampered; 

when you run, you will not stumble." 

(Proverbs 4:12)

Standing

I can be a pretty weak-willed woman. If I set my mind to something, I can visualize myself doing it with success -- saying no to things I shouldn't eat; refusing to say the thing that's rising in my throat; running all the miles in my training program. But typically something happens between the vision and the action that derails me. It erupts out of nowhere like a volcanic chocolate lava cake. It dances on my tongue like Tic-Tacs. It makes running 6 miles feel like I'm trudging through a swamp.


It's called temptation.


The initial resistance to temptation is strong. After all, I've decided what it is I'm going to accomplish, therefore my will is able to say no. But after any length of time, the doubt, desire and destruction arise and it's just. so. hard.


I've always tried to remember the verse in 1 Corinthians as a sword to wield during these times. You know the one, 

"No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. 

And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when 

you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." (10:13)

I say it, I think it, I meditate on it...but again, there's a disconnect between my head and my actions.


Please don't think I'm a heretic; I believe every scripture is God-inspired and God-breathed. But being the writer / creative type that I am, I think the disconnect for me is in the literal wording of this verse. In my mind, it sounds passive. The phrase, "so that you can endure it" doesn't connotate to me the armor-of-God bearing, authority-taking power of Christ that He died to give us. So naturally when I'm faced with a plate of brownies or the impulse to talk sharply to my kids, the idea of simply enduring the temptation or bearing the temptation doesn't make me feel victorious. And it doesn't make me want to resist it, if I have to be honest. And even if I have resisted, I still feel weak afterwards.

• Jesus said He gives us authority to trample on snakes and scorpions, and to overcome all the power of the enemy (Luke 10:19).

• He gave the disciples the authority to drive out demons (Mark 3:15) and cure diseases (Luke 9:1)

• He said that whoever believes in Him will do the works He has been doing and will do even greater things than those (John 14:12).

So we can overcome the enemy, trample on snakes and do greater things than Jesus...yet simply endure temptation and try to bear it? 


I'm sorry, but I just don't think so.


This verse has come up again and again recently, and I just so happened to come across a translation that changed everything for me. It's from the New International Reader's Version:

"You are not tempted in the same way all other human beings are. God is faithful. 

He will not let you be tempted any more than you can take. But when you are tempted, 

God will give you a way out so that you can stand up under it."

Now that, my friends, is something I can latch on to. 


Now I know the pure nature of temptation is that it's hard; I'm not try to figure out a loophole to not being tempted, or to minimize how hard it is to withstand temptation. Believe me, I get how hard it is. A plate of my Aunt's famous brownies later, I still get it. But what I am saying is that I need some hope when it comes to temptation. That even though it took everything in me to resist, I wasn't left a whimpering heap twitching on the floor afterwards. I want to resist it, feel the spiritual and physical benefits of resisting, and feel like Christ and I just did something together that was pretty spectacular. That it was something I only could have done with His help and through His strength. I want to do a dance and then bump some holy fists afterwards.


So when I read the version that says God will give a way out so that I can stand up under it...well, it fuels my desire to kick temptation in the backside. It makes me want to fight, not stand there and take the hits and proclaim afterwards, "At least I didn't die!" It paints a picture in my mind that shows me on my feet with my shoes of readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, my sword out and swinging and my belt of truth secure around my waist reminding me that "you, Lord are a shield around me, you are my glory, the one who holds my head high." (Psalm 3:3)

"Is there any god like God? 
Are we not at bedrock? 
Is not this the God who armed me, 
then aimed me in the right direction?

Now I run like a deer; 

I'm king of the mountain. 

He shows me how to fight; 

I can bend a bronze bow! 

You protect me with salvation-armor; 

you hold me up with a firm hand, 

caress me with your gentle ways. 

You cleared the ground under me 

so my footing was firm. 

When I chased my enemies I caught them; 

I didn't let go till they were dead men. 

I nailed them; they were down for good; 

then I walked all over them. 

   You armed me well for this fight, 

you smashed the upstarts. 

You made my enemies turn tail, 

and I wiped out the haters. 

They cried "uncle" but Uncle didn't come; 

They yelled for God and got no for an answer. 

I ground them to dust; they gusted in the wind. 

I threw them out, like garbage in the gutter."

- Psalm 18:31-42 (MSG)

Now that's what I'm talkin' about.