Lament...

I recently had the privilege of attending the "Healing the Wounds of Trauma" Course led by the wonderful Nancy and David Writebol. We talked about so much in the week long course but something that really stuck out to me was the need for Lament. 

To be honest, Lament has felt like a buzz word in Christian circles lately but I didn't fully understand what it meant or how to do it until this week. "In a lament, people pour out their complaints to God in an effort to persuade him to act on their behalf, all while stating their trust in Him (Psalm 62:8). (Healing the Wounds of Trauma 48)."

As I've boiled it down, the biggest shift between complaining and lament is who you are directing your words to... to neighbor, friend, spouse, self OR to God. 

We looked at Psalm 13, one of David's many laments... 

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I take counsel in my soul

and have sorrow in my heart all the day?

How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;

light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,

lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”

lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the LORD,

because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Laments can have seven parts:

• Address to God ("O God")
• Review of God's Faithfulness in the past
• A complaint
• A confession of sin or claim of innocence
• A request for help
• God's response (often not stated)
• A vow to praise, statement of trust in God

Lament can have all of these or just a few of these parts but the one thing that is the same in every Lament is a complaint. They encouraged us to write our own lament and as I wrote my tears fell crying out to God. It honestly didn't change any of the situation or even my heart toward the situation - it allowed me to feel seen and heard by my Father. 

If you have never written a Lament, I would encourage you to try it now! Whatever the situation you are in, take the time. It may not change the circumstance or even how you feel but it will draw in into intimacy with your Heavenly Father. 

He knows my every cry...

Putting my friend’s one year old to bed sounded too good to be true. Just change her and put her down with her blankets. So I did and thus ensued 30 minutes of me wondering if I did something wrong. She cried, she talked, she cried so more and all the while I’m wondering if I missed something. 

As I sit here wondering if I should either go get her or (God forbid) call her parents to see if this is normal, I’m taken back (almost 20 years ago) to a time BEFORE I was a mother. My dear friends had entrusted their 10 month old daughter to my roommate and I to be babysat for the first time EVER. This was a big responsibility. They told us that she was just starting to cry it out so we should expect some crying. So we got her ready, did all the things and put her to bed. And she cried. And cried. And cried. And we looked at each other and said: she’s fine right? (What did we know!?) Finally she fell asleep. When Osc and Jen got home, they went to check on sweet Bailey B only to find that we forgot to give her the beloved pacifier. Oops… sorry B. 

Which bring us back to this current moment when I HAVE been a mom to two children for 12 years so I should know, right? Wrong. You know why? Because she’s not my child. I don’t know what each cry means. I don’t know how she normally goes to bed; if she’s hungry, tired or just would rather not. 

That thought brought me before the throne: I’m so glad my Heavenly Father knows me. He knows what each cry means. He knows when I need to just vent and when I need intervention. He knows my thoughts from afar. He know my intentions and my sin. My Father, the Good Shepherd knows how to lead me the best, so I can trust what He does (or doesn’t do) is for my good and His glory. 

Now if this child would just fall asleep, my story would be complete… 

Happy to be with you Moments

"Happy to be with you" Moments... so often we get bogged down in the brokenness of the day that we lose sight of what the Lord has done in our lives. A friend of mine recently told me to get a book called "The Five Minute Jesus Journal" that helps you really embrace "Whole-Brain Gratitude" by focusing on joy moments with Jesus. 

As I was doing my joy moment today, the moment that came to my mind was a time when Steven and I were just friends. We sat at the Cafe Brazil in Carrollton, Texas drinking our bottomless coffee at 11 o'clock at night. We sat, we laughed, we told stories and we drank enough caffeine to kill a horse. The cafe was quiet that late at night but we laughed hardily as if no one else's opinion mattered. When I think back on this moment my heart is overjoyed. I smile remembering the smooth cups and the pumping of coffee. I was not smitten by this man at all, but this is where our true friendship blossomed. There were no pretenses. I didn't have to be someone I wasn't. I could be fully and completely my extra self and Steven just laughed, smiled and egged it on. 

When I look back to that day at the Cafe Brazil, I see Jesus smiling over the cups of coffee because he knew that we would need that deep abiding friendship to get us through a lot of the hard things. He knew that we would need to know how to laugh with each other and how to be real. He knew that I needed to make a fool of myself (he watched me hop my manual transmission truck out of the parking lot because I drank so much caffeine that my leg was shaking and I couldn't slowly ease off the clutch) and know that Steven was always a safe place for me to land. 

That moment brings me joy because I know that Steven was happy to be with me and I with him. 

How does God speak to you?

 I think I always assumed God only ever spoke through prayers and His Word, but through a class I am taking on Spiritual Disciplines, I have learned that God can speak through other ways as well. We had to do an exercise where we asked ourselves questions about when and where we heard the Lord and I learned something new (and old) about myself that day. Jesus speaks to me through illustrations. 

So follow me on this... I have always loved a good illustration and love to share them with others, but I guess I just always thought it was my brain's way of processing, not necessarily Jesus' way of speaking to me. I have come to realize it is Jesus' way of taking the truth He reveals to me in His Word and in prayer and giving me a picture to sink it deep into my heart and allow me to share with others. 

In the class I am taking, I've been challenged by some of the girls to put my pictures into writing so that it might benefit others. So, as much as I can, I want to do that - to possibly point someone else to Jesus and His truth through the pictures he gives me to. 

Here is the most recent one that I shared in our prayer letter...

I have this image of a little kid being rolled by a wave; holding my breath, trying to figure out which way is up and trying to stand all at the same time. The worst is standing up only to get hit by yet another wave. As an adult, this can feel like life: getting hit by one wave after another, not knowing which way is up and trying to stand with every ounce of energy we have only to feel knocked back down.

I was thinking of this idea of being rolled by waves when I was reading Psalm 42:7-8. "Deep calls to  deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all of your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord will command His steadfast love and at night His song is with me - a prayer to the God of my life."

Over the last several years, there have been many things that have made us feel rolled by life and when I read this passage I am reminded that He is with me. And it changes my picture from a small child being rolled by waves to sea glass.

Sea glass is a piece of broken jagged glass (usually a broken bottle) that has been rolled over and over by the waves until its edges are no longer rough and jagged but smooth and beautiful (see picture below). 

When I prickle against the difficult things, I want my heart to be reminded to cry out for His steadfast love to smooth out my rough edges. 

Zoo Animal or Wild?

 After seeing animals on Safari (picture to the right is from when I was in Kenya in 2007), it's hard for me to go to the zoo. Even the best zoo seems to pale in comparison to seeing these amazing creatures in the wild. My kids, on the other hand have yet to see them in action so they are enraptured by these beautiful creatures. Yes, a lion is awe-inspiring no matter when you see them, but something about seeing a massive mane rise out of the grasses of the Serengeti will bring you to your knees. 

As Andrew and I were looking at the different animals at the Columbia Zoo this week, we were talking about how the zookeepers feed the animals and it hit me how domesticated these animals actually are. They probably don't really know how to hunt or get their own food. They are fed every day, multiple times a day, every need is catered to in order to keep them comfortable; sounds like a pretty cush life. But here is what they don't have: freedom. No, there are no predators but there is also no running across the Serengeti at full tilt to catch prey. 

So I asked Andrew, what would you rather be: a zoo animal with all your needs met, but no freedom OR a wild animal with all the dangers but complete freedom? If I am being completely honest, I desire freedom but in my heart, I value comfort, safety and ease. 

We are faced with choice: to follow Jesus wherever he calls or ease. Following Jesus feels out of control, dangerous and scary. It is also wild and an adventure beyond where I would ever take myself. The other option is staying in the safety of all I've ever known, be fed 3 square meals a day but never know the rush of freedom. 

Following Jesus full tilt doesn't mean you'll have to move (but it might), it means being in lockstep with him so that when he says, "Talk to that person" or "Give them what you have" or "Stop," you do it because you know that what He offers is freedom. 

I'm making myself a sign for this year: Are you wild or caged? 

I'm not sure about you, but in my heart of hearts, I want to be WILD! 

The Missing Fox

We looked just about everywhere. We looked under things, in things, outside, inside, tearing apart our house looking for a stuffed fox. We were on night number two of great heaving sobs and floods of tears. As a parent, you want to fix what is ailing your child - let’s be honest, we looked on amazon to see if we could get another one by the next day. But we couldn’t. The first night she prayed that God would help her find it the next day… but that day came and went and still not foxy. Last night she sobbed, “Why didn’t God answer my prayers?!” How do you explain to a child that Jesus is still just as present when he says yes than when he says no or wait. But I tried my best and we prayed. This may feel like an insignificant prayer to you. Who cares about a stuffed fox? Joy. So even though I too felt like it was insignificant, I pled with the Lord, not because I care about the fox, but because I deeply love my child. 

Our Savior deeply loves us. And do you know what Scripture says? It says he intercedes on our behalf. I am sure some of the things he intercedes for me he’s chuckling a little to himself because of the sheer insignificance of my request but do you know what? He. Loves. Me. So he comes before the Father and intercedes for me, even though he knows the outcome. Wow. So humbling to have a Savior who loves me so much 

Steven tore apart the house looking for that fox to no avail. He told me that we were going to have to brace ourselves for tonight when she cried herself to sleep for yet another night. As I threw clothes in the laundry, I thought, “Maybe it fell behind the washer…” Nope. And then I saw a big box of balls the kids had played with and put away and I thought… maybe? As I dumped the balls out, I spied the beloved fox in the midst of the balls just hanging out, not even knowing we had all looked desperately for him for days.  

When I brought him downstairs and told Joy, she screamed for joy and snuggled him tight. My prayer for my daughter is that this would just be one step in her learning to trust that Jesus is for her and that he loves her; even if he doesn’t answer her requests in her timing or in the way she would like. He. Loves. Her. 

Thoughts on Joy's Appendicitis...

Before we get too far away from the experience, I want to take the time to write down the things Jesus spoke over me while we watched our daughter suffer. I understand that this is not suffering as some parents are forced to watch their children suffering. I understand that I was not even suffering as so many people have, but I still believe the things God spoke to me are real - and wherever you are, I pray he would use them to speak over you as well. 

No one can truly explain to you what it is to watch your child in pain. I thought it was bad to watch Andrew scream for the first 10 months of his life (and it was). But this was different. Joy was curled in a ball, could only be carried - but cried every time you touched her. As we sat in the ER waiting, I was impatient and then I was annoyed. Finally I looked at Steven and said, “We should have just taken her to Urgent Care.” Did I know what was best for my daughter? No. I thought I did. Did I know the intricacies of her body? Did I know what is wrong? No, I knew nothing. But I knew she was in pain and in my humanness, I wanted it to be over with, NOW. 

When we finally got a room in the ER, they needed to draw blood and put in an IV - but since they had told me not to let her eat or drink, she was severely dehydrated and they couldn’t find a vein. The sweet nurse poked and prodded and tried the absolute best she could, but to no avail. All the while, Joy clung to Steven and I crying saying, “I want to go home! I want to see Bubby!” My mama’s heart wanted to sweep her out of that bed and take her home where she was safe and no one was poking her. But that wouldn’t have been kind of me. Though it would have fixed her momentary struggle, she would have been even sicker than when we got there. 

So we held her and I whispered in her ear, “I love you. I am here and I’m not going to leave you, but we cannot go home. We have to find out what is wrong.” She cried. I cried. In that moment, Jesus whispered to me, “I love you. I am here and I’m not going to leave you.” It was in that moment that I think I first understood how the Father’s heart breaks when mine does. He’s not calloused or impatient with my pain. He is my Father who is broken by my pain but understands it is not without purpose. I may not know that purpose in the moment, but he is for my ultimate good, not just to ease my momentary struggle. 

I wish I could say it was a short wait and we popped her into surgery with no trouble, but instead it was a long 18 hours of waiting, testing, prodding and praying. Because they didn’t know what was wrong, she was not able to eat or drink and that about killed me. To have my child begging me for a drink, just a sip of water and having to tell her “I’m sorry but no, we cannot at this time” about broke me. Again, she did not understand why I was saying no. She knows water is good for you. I tell her to drink it all the time, so why would I tell her “no” now? The times I do not understand why the Lord says no to good things is innumerable. But if I have learned anything this week, its that whatever he asks, whatever he tells me to do, whatever he withholds from me is for my good and His glory. 

Back to the story: after numbers not being right in her bloodwork and the ultrasound showing nothing, they decided on a CT scan. I had to force her to drink a big glass of juice with contrast in it. It was torture. She was screaming in pain and refusing to drink. I was pleading with her to drink but she couldn’t drink more than half the cup. At one point her pain was so intense I just sat and cried with her as she writhed in pain. Quietly to God I cried out to the Father, “Give me her pain! I’ll take 10 times what she is suffering so she doesn’t have to suffer for one more second.”

I tried to calm her with singing because Joy loves when I sing to her. I tried to sing, but all that came out were sobs and tears. So I put on worship music and let the words, “Shalom, shalom, shalom, you’re my peace” wash over us waiting for the morphine to kick in. She finally fell asleep as I continued to listen to worship music crying out to the Lord for answers. 

When the surgeon came to visit us a few hours later, he explained that Joy indeed had appendicitis and they would have to do surgery. She was scared, but we were there holding her hands right up to when they would put her under. 

I knew they would have to cut my baby open, but I knew it was for her good. There was infection that needed to be removed so that she could be healthy and whole. There is a difference between stabbing from a enemy and the skillful cuts of a surgeon. Pain is never easy to watch, but it can be an important thing. If Joy didn’t experience any pain, we wouldn’t have known she needed help. It was the pain that caused the doctors to keep searching for answers and eventually it was the pain the brought us to a place of healing. As much as I try to avoid pain and suffering, I see there is purpose in it. 

What a wild ride this has all been. I have learned so much about pain, suffering and most importantly the heavenly Father’s perfect love for his children, which is so much bigger, strong and greater than mine. Wherever you are, whatever you’re struggling with, I pray you will “grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ” (Ephesians 3:18).

So. Much. Throw Up.

I think the count is 12 and we are still in the air. We woke up at 4am to get to our 6:50 flight. Andrew woke up exhausted and not in the best of moods. Standing in line to check our bags he says his tummy hurts. I think he’s just hungry but before you know it, vomit is spewing forth all over the floor by the ticket counter line. 1, 2, 3 times… we are trying to catch it, trying to move him to the side and trying to move forward in the line. People are looking on in horror and then proceed to cut in front of us in this very long line. I was honestly thinking it was motion sickness from the car so I thought we were done. While we stood in line at TSA, he looked green. Joy stepped through the metal detector and as I followed and went through, I look back to see him puking 1, 2, 3 times all over the floor. I can’t go back, and Steven is left to handle the aftermath. We shut down 2 TSA lines, left side and right side of this wet floor. Also, since Steven took off his sweatshirt - they made him run it through the scanner. They then let Andrew through but not Steven because “they don’t want him to walk through vomit.” Standing at the metal detector in his socks - they tell Steven to use another line that is still open and the only way there is through the vomit (again in his socks). Steven finally gets through but they end up pulling two of our bags because of our frozen elk meat and my jar of apple sauce, and as we stand there waiting for them to give us the go ahead, he throws up another couple times for good measure (We we’re fortunate this time though- a kind TSA agent gave us a grocery bag. And also hand sanitizer!) We get on the train to get to terminal A - which didn’t help the motion, but we finally make it to our gate. We sit, take a breather and finally get in line for the plane. We got the nazi of Frontier agents so we had to each put our bag in the box to make sure it counted as a personal item. As we were doing that, Andrew throws up some more. I really thought the lady wasn’t going to let us on. But we made it on the plane, sitting down, bag in hand. As we take off, I’m looking out the window at the most beautiful sunset through a dirty airplane window and the Lord reminds me, My mercies are new every morning. Great is my faithfulness. I lay my hands on my son and pray peace and healing over him and then I begin to think back on the faithfulness of the Lord this morning - having a change of clothes for Andrew, the vomit not smelling (due to nothing in his stomach!), the kindest TSA officers I’ve ever encountered giving me plastic bags, sanitizer and an understanding tone, and finally sitting next to a guy in the plane who was so compassionate and understanding. The circumstances didn’t change (he actually threw up a few more times on the plane) but this feels like a holy moment. A moment where Jesus met with me to remind me that he’s bigger and that we are not alone. Thank you Jesus for your new morning mercies.

*Story told with Andrew's permission - and praise the Lord he was completely fine after a full night of sleep! 

Is it more important to feel safe or be safe?

Joy (at her ballet recital): Mommy, will you sit in the front row so I can see you?

Me: Baby, I would love to, but every mommy is going to want to sit in the front row and so I might not be able to get that seat - but I will be there! You might not be able to see me, but I can see you. You can wave and you can know I am there waving back at you, even if you can't see me. 

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I couldn't help but think about Jesus speaking to me, "Sometimes you can't see me, but that doesn't mean I am not there." 

A few Sundays ago, our pastor spoke on the passage in Mark where Jesus walks on the water. "Later that night, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. Shortly before dawn he went out to them, walking on the lake." (Mk 5:46-47) And Pastor Don said to us, "Is it more important that we FEEL safe or that we ARE safe?" The disciples didn't FEEL safe. They felt terrified and alone, but you know who saw them? Jesus. They were never in danger of drowning because he was there whether or not they felt him or could see him. Does God allow hard things to happen to us? Absolutely. But is it ever outside His control? Never. 

At that moment it brought me back to Joy at her recital. She was the center of my world. The other kids on the stage were her props (sorry to all the other kids there, nothing personal 😆). If something were to happen, I would have been there in a heartbeat. She had to trust what her eyes could not see. She had to trust my character - that I love her and I was going to show up for her. 

If I can ask my daughter to trust me, a fallible human, is it not completely appropriate for my Father to ask me to trust Him even though my eyes cannot always see? 

You are safe in Him - even in the times you don't feel safe. 

Lessons from Sourdough

With COVID, came the 2020 fads. One of those I never jumped on was bread making. Until today. My brother is the most most amazing chef. If you've tried one of his soft pretzels, you know what I'm talking about. He has been trying to convince me for a while that making sourdough bread "isn't that hard." For Jeremy, not much in the baking/cooking/BBQing category IS hard. For me, it's all hard. 

For my birthday he got me a sourdough starter. He was convince I could make it happen. I was not so convinced. My birthday was in May. It is now almost August. That should tell you something. Needless, I started with my little starter in a little bowl and I was SO excited to see things start to grow and bubble. I would be lying if I told you I just followed directions and left my brother alone. He probably got at least one call or text a day... does this look right? Did I add enough? Is it supposed to smell like that?! Each time he patiently encouraged, corrected and helped me. He went over the baking process with me no less than twice. Is my brother the best or what?! 

Currently my bread is in the oven and I am praying it does it what it is supposed to do. Bake into the most scrumptious loaf that I will later slather in butter and jam because its "healthier" since I made it from scratch HA! 

As I sit here waiting to see how it turns out, I started thinking about the Word and the loving directions God gives us through it. As I think about how my brother could have just said, "The directions are all online. Look it up and follow the directions and it'll turn out ok." Instead he walked with me through the process. He allowed me to ask questions, to ask for the THIRD explanation of the same thing (because I was now on that step and needed to hear it again) and to baby step through this. God's Word, though it is a bunch of words come with a beautiful relationship - not just a set or rules, "Just do what it says and it'll turn out." 

God's Word is amazing because you can read the same thing and depending on where you are in the "process" you might understand Him in a different way. He lovingly and patiently walks with us through life, encourages us and corrects us. We can keep coming back to him, asking him for clarification and know He has no problem taking the time to explain yet again. 

Eventually I hope that I will be able to make this bread and not have to call 100 times but until then, my brother is a rockstar and is always there to help. 

As I grow in my walk with the Lord, I know I will never "master" the Christian life, but I can be transformed by his Word. I pray that I will continue to grow up into eating that "solid food" instead of having to only drink milk.

Those are the things that Jesus, sourdough and my brother have taught me today... now to go and see how my bread is doing! 

*update: it was a complete flop (multiple times!) 😂 Guess I'll be spending more time on the phone with my brother!

The Rapids of Life

As we watch the water rush over the rocks creating white crests, Andrew asks, “Could you go down that river?” I tried my best to explain the fun and thrill of white-water rafting. I think back on my times down the Colorado River; but even better, the time my sister and I bested a tributary river in the Amazon. 

While relaying these stories to Andrew, he comments, “Is it safe?” It causes me to pause because, no, it’s not really safe, but it sure is fun! So we talk about the difference between going down rapids in a raft, with a guide and a life jacket and then what it would be like falling into a river without all of these measures being taken. In a raft, with a guide and life jacket, you feel the thrill of the ride, the wind on your face and the adventure right in front of you! It is still dangerous and a bit scary, but also fun and amazing! If you were to fall into a swift moving river without all the things, that exciting thrill would quickly turn to panic and a desperate need to survive. 

What is the difference? Same river. Same person. Different situation.

I tried to paint the picture for Andrew. Life has many scary turns, rushing water, and roaring rapids that can feel like it’s too much to handle, because it is. However, as believers, we have safety in the raft. Our heavenly Father is the one who carries us and Jesus is our guide; the one who shows us where to go, how fast to paddle and steers us around giant boulders that we can’t see. Lastly, we have our life vest, the Holy Spirit, who has sealed us because of the saving work of Jesus on the cross. We need not be worried that we will drown or be lost because “When you believed you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit.”  As one of the high school girls in my Bible study pointed out, if the water is calm, those outside of the raft, “ who are chillin’” will look at you and say, “What a boring life you live! Throw off that life vest and come float with us!” But, the moment those inevitable rapids begin, things shift quickly. 

Today you might wonder if life is safe. I guarantee you; it is not. Uncertainties abound… sickness, pandemics, shootings, accidents and more - today you may be feeling the rapids, or you may believe the waters are calm in your life. Jesus doesn’t offer you a way out of this life but he will navigate you through it all. John 20:31 says, “But these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” He offers life eternal and life today. I urge you to believe in Him today and allow Him to lead you down this crazy river of life, whether life feels tumultuous or calm.

Trust Me

In 2007, I was sitting in Charlotte, NC preparing for my 2 years in Ecuador working at a coffee shop ministry to college and university students (my absolutely dream job!) I had the opportunity to hear from some very seasoned and wonderful missionaries and be encouraged by fellow missionaries getting ready to go out. My excitement was mounting with all the possibilities that lay before me!

In the midst of what seemed wonderful, there were things that weighed so heavy on my 26 year-old heart. I remember taking my journal out to a field behind SIM and crying out to the Lord. I had 3 things that I made my anxiety spiral out of control:

What if I never learned the language? For an extrovert who loves to connect with people, this was my worst nightmare. What if I could never communicate my love for Jesus? What if I had to sit silently, never making a deep heart connection with anyone for 2 years?
What if I never made friends? The fear of loneliness away from friends and family haunted me.
What if I never get married? Let's just be honest, this was probably my worst fear. The thought of leaving the country at the age of 26 for 2 years with NO possibility of marriage in the near or distant future made me cry.

As I laid these worries before the Lord one by one, he met me there. He did not meet me with answers but instead with Trust me. So I stepped out, trusting the God who had always been there and promised to walk with me whatever happened.

Fastfoward to 2020 during a crazy pandemic when this extroverted mama felt stuck and alone. Steven had the great idea of walking the 40 acres behind SIM USA, which I had never done before. As we walked, I saw the spot from 2007 where I cried out to the Lord and he heard me. I took this picture to remind myself: this is where the Lord met you and here is a little piece of the fulfillment of His answer to you.

I honestly love thinking back on that time in 2007 because the Lord answered each one of those prayers: the language learning, the friends and the husband. None of them came how I thought they would or when, but it was in His perfect time and way.

So no matter what is swirling around my mind, my heart or this crazy world, I remind myself to go back and hear Jesus whisper those sweet words to me, Trust me because He has been faithful and will continue to be.

What's your word?

Present. Grow. Humble. Surrender. Depth. All words that people give to the new year. Sometimes it's based off of things you want for the future or regrets you have in the past. I have done this the past several years but rarely remember what my word even is from year to year, let alone allow it to affect my life!

To try and keep myself accountable, I'm writing it here so that January 1, 2021 I can look back and ask myself: was that true of you in 2020?

My "word" for 2020 is rather a phrase from Mark 6:31, "Come away with me." After long days of ministry, little rest and no food, Jesus called his disciples into the boat and said, "Come away with me. Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest for a while." Can you hear them breath a sigh of relief?

I have a mental picture of Jesus in the boat reaching out his hand to me on the shore, Come away with me. He is beaconing me to draw near, leave the multitude, truly rest and enjoy Him. Enjoy. Him.

Let's be honest, I'm tired and have been for a long time (I create cute kids who don't sleep!) But true rest is not something I'm good at. I am notorious for not giving myself margin. I try and fit it all in because I hate missing out or saying no. Even in my time with the Lord, it can feel like I'm checking a box, not finding real rest in Him! With two small children at home and loving being with people the way I do, I realized that if I want a quiet place to rest, that has to be a priority, not an afterthought. So this year, I'm choosing to make it a priority.

The God of the universe wants to meet with me and give me rest. Come away with me.

Whatever your word might be for 2020, know that THIS year, Jesus is calling. For those of you who do not know Him, He wants you to come, believe and be made new. For those who do, He's calling you deeper.

Come away with me. What will your answer be?

The Blizzard of Suffering

This week at church, our pastor talked about suffering and gave the most amazing analogy. This is the Jamie's condensed version: our need of Jesus is like a furnace in the bottom of our house (he's from Ohio... they have those there). During the summer months you may not even remember that it's there because you feel don't need it, but as fall and winter set in, you turn it on and enjoy your happy home. But when a blizzard comes you don't just realize your need for it, you get as close to it as you possibly can to stay warm. Suffering causes the same thing in our lives - to get as close to Jesus as possible. As he shared that, I began to think of my own suffering moments and the closeness of Jesus... 

Everyone’s picture of suffering looks different. Some are much more extreme and some are far more mild but suffering is real and God can really meet you there. Here's when Jesus met me...

From the moment he was awake to random moments he went to sleep, he cried. “Babies cry” was the response I got from a lot of people… that is until they heard him. The astonished look people would give when he let out his wails of pain from the depths of his soul… they were intense. Yep, that’s what I dealt with for the first 9-10 months of Andrew's life. I don’t have those sweet infant baby pictures of them curled up in a little basket. I have the mental image of a face twisted in pain and an exhausted mother just trying to hold it together. 

I cannot count the number of days and nights I cried out to the Lord and begged him to “fix” my son; to allow him to sleep, to allow ME to sleep. Some days He felt silent like He didn’t care that I was losing my mind. And then He would send me things. 

One day I remember starting out the morning with Andrew strapped to me, crying (as usual), bouncing and walking back and forth across my small apartment living room. A friend of mine had posted a worship song, which I clicked on in desperation to hear a word of encouragement. That word turned into pure and sweet worship of my Savior. Yes, I still cried out for Him to take this from me, but I wept as I bounced, sang and cried out to the One who hears. Did Andrew stop crying? No. Not by a long shot. But oh how Jesus met me there that day.

Several other days he sent friends to hold and rock him while I got a moment of peace. He sent fellow mamas to speak words of life and encouragement into my weary soul. 

But here is one thing He didn’t do: He didn’t make Andrew stop crying - he didn't stop the blizzard, even though I knew he could. As I leaned in, he held me there. It absolutely brings me to tears to remember these moments. They were hard. I would not wish them on anyone nor would I want to do it again. BUT I am glad that I suffered because I met my Jesus in a way I never would have if Andrew would have slept and ate like the baby I would have liked. 

You're invited to a wedding...

This year I have TWO very close friends getting married. Needless to say, I've got weddings on the brain. To top it off, our pastor has been preaching through Revelation and recently discussed the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.  

As Pastor Don shared with us the correlations between a Jewish wedding celebration and the book of Revelation, I stood in awe at so many things. I would really love to share some of those with you if you have the time to read...

In a Jewish wedding celebration, in those days, (as I understand) it would begin with the groom paying the bride's dowry and leaving a guarantee, something precious, so that all (especially the bride) would know that he was coming back for his beloved. He would then leave to add a room to his father's house and when that room was finished, he would come back to collect his bride. She was to wait in joyful anticipation at his return. She had no idea when he would return, only that he would. So she would make beautiful things to put in her new home and prepare her wedding garments.

When Pastor Don shared those things with us, a lightbulb just went off for me. WOW! My groom has paid the price for me at the cross, left His Holy Spirit as a guarantee that He will come back for me. He promised that He "goes to prepare a place" in His Father's house and that I should be ready because He could come back at any moment.

When I think about my two girlfriends preparing for their weddings, there is so much preparation and so much excitement... the most beautiful dress, the perfect wedding venue, and everything has to be just right. When you talk to them about their weddings, they are FILLED with joy. Why? Because they get to marry the man of their dreams.

Emily right after Pierre shouted "She's beautiful!"

At my friend Emily's wedding, her soon-to-be husband, Pierre couldn't contain his excitement. The doors opened and as she was about half way down the aisle, he shouted out, "She's beautiful!" He could not wait to have her as his own -  that's how Jesus feels about you and me. He can't wait for the day that we get to be together forever.

But until then, how are we (the church) waiting for our groom? With joyful anticipation? Inviting everyone and anyone to come and join the celebration? Or, are we pretending like we aren't even getting married - just living life like it's any other day?

If you aren't sure if you're invited, let me extend that invitation to you right now... Jesus loves you. He  desperately wants to be with you. Your sin keeps that from being a possibility, so he paid the ultimate sacrifice - he died for you. But then Easter... he rose again! And calls out to all, "COME and be my bride! Believe that my sacrifice was enough." If you believe, he leaves you the guarantee of His Holy Spirit and tells you, "Behold I am coming soon!" So invite others, grow in him, and remember your groom is coming for you!

My flower bed = a scene from Jumanji

This is the first time we have ever had a yard let alone a flower bed to tend. I have no clue about gardening and kill most things I try to keep alive. So when we moved into our house, I didn't have high hopes for our flower bed. I figure I'm good at killing things so nothing out there should last too long. Well, I was wrong. Our front flower bed is a wreck - not with dead things, but with too many WEEDS. Every time I pass by, I cringe because it is so overgrown (see picture!). Honestly, at this point I can't tell what's a weed and what's a plant.

Yesterday afternoon I had it. As the kids played, I went after those weeds like a crazy person. There were a series of vines that were covering the ground, taking over rose bushes and trying to climb into our house! You want to hear the crazy thing? I didn't even SEE it all until I started pulling it out.

Pulling up weed after weed, the Lord impressed on me the sin that can live in my own heart - the way it hides in plain sight. If you have a nicely manicured flower bed, pulling a weed on a weekly or daily basis is no big deal. But if your flower bed has turned into a scene from Jumanji, it's going to take a while. Some weeds even tricked me into thinking, "That's a plant, not a weed. It looks kind of pretty - maybe I should just keep it." Until I pulled it up with satisfaction knowing it was one more weed invading my beautiful space (hard to believe the picture below is the SAME corner of my flower bed).

Sin comes in all shapes and sizes. There seem to be the obvious ones like lying, stealing, cheating and hate. While pride, ungratefulness, gluttony, selfishness, and gossip seem to hide in the category of "pretty weeds," but Jesus sees them all the same. I do not want these weeds taking over my life - they've got to go!

I must go to the Master Gardener, Jesus Christ who can take care of my sin problem. Jesus not only rescued me from my sin, but He now takes the time to clear out my junk. He lovingly and sometimes painfully clears out the weeds - for my good and His glory.

Why are we afraid of death?

When I was a kid, I remember being terrified of the cemetery. Our pastor lived right next to the local cemetery and I had nightmares about it after the first time visiting them. As I've grown older, I wondered why. Why are we terrified of death, cemeteries and the like? I think its because death leads to the grave. An end point. Finality. But as believers in Jesus Christ, that's not how we should view death.

Since Brian's passing from this world to the next, I've begun to think more about death. Death can bring us to one of two places: the grave or the cross. Death is a terrifying thing when we think that things are over and the grave is final.  Although, death can be something to rejoice in when we look at it through the eyes of Jesus' death on the cross. He died so that our physical death would not be final but rather the beginning of eternity with our Father in heaven. We don't think of these things often because death is not part of most of our normal thought process - but maybe it should be. I've noticed something in South Carolina that I rarely saw in Dallas: cemeteries right next to churches. At first I thought, "well that is kind of creepy" (thinking back to my own childhood experience), but it keeps us remembering that this life is temporary... and that death it is not the end but the beginning. The next time you drive by a cemetery, think about it: 'What does death mean to me? The end or the beginning? Where will I go when I die?'

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him." - 1 Thes 4:13-14

As much as it pains us to have to say goodbye to Brian on this earth, we know that we will see him again some day and we rejoice in his graduation to heaven!