I stepped

 out of the hotel onto the sidewalk.

The first thing I noticed was the blustery wind that whipped around me. I was glad we had brought warm clothes. 

I squinted against the sun and looked around. I needed the valet. We were rushing, late to our next stop. It took me a moment to realize that the mom and daughter in front of me were waiting for their car to arrive. 

I sighed deeply and looked behind me to make sure the kids were out of the way. I motioned them to line up against the wall and looked back to make sure the hubs, who was in the lobby of the hotel, was okay.

I breathed deeply and was taking in the scenery around me when it all happened. It was so quick. So fast. I was tempted to let it go- to let it wash over me like just a quick moment in a quick day.

I looked to my right and simultaneously noticed a man walking toward me and a woman right behind him. He was laden with bags of food and was walking quickly. Just as he got to me, he turned to his left and jogged up the few steps of the hotel into the lobby. Directly behind him, I saw her. She was pursuing him and yelling, "Sir. SIR. SIR..." 

Maybe it was my imagination, but he glanced at me as he turned to go up the steps. Was it panic in his eyes or did I just imagine it?

He darted into the same lobby where my husband waited. The doors slid closed and I looked back to her. She walked up the sidewalk where I stood. I saw my children out of the corner of eye, still plastered to the side of the hotel where I had placed them. 

"Good morning," I said to her, loudly. I smiled.

She startled just a bit, but responded quickly, "Good morning."

She kept walking. She looked back over her left shoulder, just past me, and smiled almost shyly, "I like your lipstick..."

I was taken back, but said, "Thank you" to her back as she walked up the sidewalk. She turned a corner and was gone.

My lipstick?

 Everything froze as stared after her, the wind still whipping around me.

Suddenly the valet was there, standing in front of me. I handed him my ticket and remembered I had pulled out my phone to Google how much to tip him. I had no idea. I punched the letters into my phone as I tried to process what had just happened. 

Had it even been 48 hours since I had heard the sermon on John 4? Had it been a month since I read the chapter over and over again? The woman at the well. She needed Jesus, and He met her there.

That woman needed Jesus. What could I have done? Leave my children on that sidewalk pressed into the stone wall of our hotel while I chased her up the sidewalk? What would I have said? What would I have wanted to do? Grab her hands, look her in the eye and plead with her to leave all of this behind? To take her somewhere safe? To point her toward freedom and peace?

The valet spun our van into the street in front of us and there was a flurry as we loaded our stuff and sorted out which way we needed to go. My thoughts kept going back to her, and I kept seeing her walking quickly up the sidewalk. What could I have done?

We got to our next destination. It was uptown. We had been downtown.

I decided that I preferred downtown. 

I always prefer downtown. 

I walked in front of stores with names like Tiffany & Co, Versace, Michael Kors and Jimmy Cho. I watched the women there. Perfect thin, perfectly dressed, perfectly acceptable. I walked, clutching my coffee, wondering who was better off. Wondering why I couldn't enjoy a simple day in a different city without thinking too much.

Why I couldn't let it just slide by.

How many are there like her out there? Why her?

What could I have done?

I'm tired of wondering what I could have done. Maybe I'm ready to start wishing I hadn't done something, instead of wishing I had. 

I don't know what to do with her still. I think of her. I pray for her. I wish I could go back. And do what I still don't know.

I still can't figure any of this out.

I heard the words again today: evangelism as a lifestyle

Not a checklist, not an obligation, not a hinderance or a burden. A joy. A way of life. 

Fulness of Christ that overflows into all areas of life.

Even to a broken, lost woman in a strange city who like my new lipstick.

I can't figure all of this out. 

I just keep praying. 

The web I would have woven

I was talking to someone recently about my quest to learn to run. I have finally, after literally months and months of trying, starting making progress.

I mean like miles and timing myself and everything.

My sister suggested I run a 5K. I went to the website, thought about registering and freaked out.

She suggested that I run a different race in February.

I agreed.

I'm now signed up to run a race in March.

I'm procrastinating.

Part of the problem is that I really do try to "train" in the mornings, but my main goal for being out there every morning isn't actually to exercise. It's more of a prayer closet for me to go into by myself.

Alone time is hard to come by in this house of early risers.

They can't exercise with me, so this became my place to pray and process and talk and argue and learn and cry and worship and wrestle. I wish I knew how many miles I have logged over the years doing this each morning.

I do know I have grown a lot. Praise the Father for that.

In trying to explain all of this to a friend recently, I told her that I do try to run well in the mornings, but I am just as apt to stop to study a bird, take a picture of some clouds or a dandelion, study a bug or random creeping creature or just stop to feel the sun on my face.

It's hard to be serious about timing yourself when all of this is going on.

I recently found these verses in Proverbs 24 and they reminded me of my mornings out in nature:

I passed by the field of the sluggard

  And by the vineyard of the man lacking sense,

And behold, it was completely overgrown with thistles;
  Its surface was covered with nettles,
  And its stone wall was broken down.

When I saw, I reflected upon it;
  I looked, and received instruction.

“A little sleep, a little slumber,
  A little folding of the hands to rest,”

Then your poverty will come as a robber
  And your want like an armed man.

First of all, I'm not out judging my neighbors' yards or calling them "sluggards." But I do so often see something on my "run" and literally learn something right there on the spot. And I am very thankful for this.

One morning I was really wrestling with God's apparent plan for my life at the moment. I was trying to hard to accept this path that He has me on and trust Him.

And I was failing miserably.

We've been here before. God in His infinite patience has walked this road with me more times that I can recount in the recent years. As hard as I try to rest in Him and accept and trust, I usually end up stomping my foot and demanding my way.

This particular morning, I ran past a huge spider web. I kept going but the Lord called me back.

Look at it. Look at the web. Study it...

I did. In wonder and amazement. The morning light reflected off each tiny silk thread and perfectly showed the intricacies and complexity of the design. I ran off and thought a lot about that web. It was a marvelous miracle.

"Now, Lord. Back to my whining..."

The very next day I was running again and lo and behold, I ran past another web. I stopped again and the Lord again pressed upon my heart the urge to study it. I did and even took a few pictures. As I ran off, I uneasily waited for God to show me why I had stopped and studied webs two days in a row in the great classroom of God called nature.

I didn't have to wait long. Out of a swirling presence that reminded me of Job 40, the Lord began asking me one question after another:

Amy, how does that spider know how to spin that web?

Does he pause before he spins each one and ponder whether there might be a better pattern to spin than the one that he instinctively knows how to spin?

Does he try to spin his own version of a web?

Or better yet has he decided after all this time of catching food this way that there is probably a better way to find his dinner?

Does he doubt the One who created the web? Or does he just spin the way he was created to spin?

Does he ever tell Me that his webs aren't good enough and he would rather have some different webs?

Does that spider do what I created him to do?

With each strike of my foot against the pavement and with each question ringing in my heart, I knew that what I was really telling God was that He didn't know what He was doing. I was much more able to plan out my life than He was and as a matter of fact, He had been doing a really terrible job of it all. I could do much better.

Yes, Proverbs, this is called receiving instruction. 



 

I thought again of these things I learned as I drove home today.

There was a time when I carefully constructed every thread of my own life. I controlled and planned and structured everything that was in my control and fretted and worried about what was out of my control.

This was true even as we as a family started out to find a new church, years ago. I had my list and set out to find a church that fit that list.

There was one church in particular that I wanted to visit and I told my husband repeatedly that I didn't want to join, I just wanted to visit. Emphatically, "Not join, just visit. Once." So we did.

Visit.

And that was five years ago tomorrow.

I sat in the floor of a living room today eating lunch with friends that I met at this church. As I reflected on all that God has done in my life these last five years, all the friends He has blessed me with, the way He has grown me, the love and faithfulness and the care He has shown me, I heard the inevitable question...

What if you had gotten your way?

My way would have been a different church.

That was sort of hard to imagine, sitting in the floor of that living room today.

As I ponder the path that God seems to have for me at the moment, I know that He only makes good decisions. I know that He makes no mistakes. No matter how I feel or what I want or how I'd do things, all that matters is that I'm okay with how He's doing things.

My choice of church would have me in a completely different world now. I wiped away tears today as I thought of the people both near and far that I would have missed out on knowing had I had my way. I think of all the blessings I would have missed out on.

This can only serve to reassure me that He does indeed know what He's doing. As He knows the best web for that spider to spin, He knows the best plan for my life. Today looked just exactly has He had always planned it would. Same for tomorrow and the day after that and all the days that will follow.

We do in fact gain trust in His faithfulness when we look back and see all that He has done. I work hard to trust Him as I look forward. This is my challenge. Trust.

Trust for tomorrow.

And the days after that.

And stop spinning my own webs. They never turn out as good as His. 

Time looms large...

 I was running today, trying to sort out my heart.

Not an easy job.

The running or the sorting.

It seems harder today. Here lately. Most recently. Harder than it ever has been. 

Sorting out my heart. Not the running. 

The new year. Full of time. Unknown and unsorted time. 

Time looms large...

As I was cooling down, I walked under one of my favorite trees. I looked up a lot at the sky today, for a lot of reasons I'm sure. One reason was the absence of my beloved clouds. After what seems like a dark and gloomy winter so far, it felt good to see the nearly cloudless blue sky. 

But my poor tree. 

It looks like this in the spring:

I felt so encouraged this past spring. So hopeful. I quickly made this picture into a screen saver.

{I do love me some cheese}

But I believed it. I felt it. It was spring and everything was new and happy and so...

promising

This is my beloved tree today: 

I mean, it's just sad. It looks prettier here than it really is. It's... 

dead

Or it looks dead.

I feel like that tree.

Sort of dead inside. The hope is dead. The fire is dead. I feel like a hibernating animal, burrowed deeply in the snow, tucked in, waiting for spring. 

And I love winter. This isn't about the season. It's about me.

Hope has flickered out.

And I spent my run trying to figure out why. 

I have way too much in my life to be thankful for to be morose about anything. 

I know that. 

I think this really is about death. Not real, physical death. The other kind.

I learned a lot about this from Elisabeth Elliot. And she learned a lot about this from Lilias Trotter. 

In nature, so much of the beauty and growth depends on dying. The dying and falling off of the bloom. The dying and falling of the fruit. Nature is full of this dying and blooming and dying and blooming.

You can even look at a branch on a tree and see how many cycles of this kind that the branch has cycled through. 

There is a knot at each place where it died and grew again.

I feel that deeply in my soul. Each time the Lord has pruned me, something in me has died. Thankfully it's most always something that needed to go: a deeper grasp on pride or judgement of others, a level of fear and anxiety, a removal of something temporal I cling to instead of Him, my instance of getting my way... The list could go on and on. 

These things, and more, need to go. And I see that He works all things in my life together to bring about this sanctification. The knots stay and I remember. I remember each time the Lord wrestled from my childish, selfish grasp; something that needed to go. And I'm thankful. 

And that's good.

But sometimes I also lose something valuable. Something precious. I lose hope. I lose trust. I lose my way just a little. I feel a tiny bit like Job, 

Though you slay me...

(Lilias Trotter says, "“Do not be dismayed if the first answer to some of your prayers is a revelation, not of the power of God to make alive, but of his might to slay every hope outside himself.”)

And that's what I feel today. I feel a little lost. And definitely without hope. I feel a little slayed. 

So I made a new cheesy screensaver:

Because it's true. No matter whether I can see what He's doing or feel correctly about anything He's doing or whether or not I can actively trust Him, He's still faithful. And I know that there is much more to this verse and much more to do and think and feel, but...

I know all the right things to think and say. But for now when I feel a little lost and a little alone and a little scared about how He keeps pushing me forward when I'm really tired and just want to rest for awhile, it's good to know that He's still faithful. 

I guess my tree and I are both getting ready for spring. 

This is how you lose your soul

It was August. 

We had left our beach vacation after a mere 36 hours into it due to a hurricane headed straight for our condo. 

The husband was starting a new business, and he decided that since we were home, there was work he really needed to get done.

So the kids and I hung out at the house. For nearly a week.

We had fun, but we were a little out of sorts. Not bored, but just sort of stir crazy.

I'm glad now looking back that we rested for a bit.

Mainly because a hurricane of a different kind was brewing, and it was headed straight for us.

Busyness. 

The insane sort of busyness that slowly bleeds your soul dry.

And I was unprepared for it. 

I remember us leaving our first flag football practice and seeing one of the dads running across the parking lot, two small boys in tow. He was yelling over his shoulder, "We have to hurry! We have another practice across town and we're late...!"

We got into our van and inched our way out of the parking lot with all of the other families that had come to a sport practice of one kind or another and finally merged onto the main road clogged with weary commuters trying to slowly make their way home, and as we barely creeped down the road I thought, 

This is how we lose our souls...

We are so busy. We are so busy we don't think or feel or breathe. We just keep spinning constantly every day until we collapse into bed way too late at night so that we can get up way too early the next morning so that we can do it all again.

And then we die.

Really.

This entire life of ours spins and spins and then it's over. 

And it made me sick inside. And a little panicky.

I whined to the husband, and he said, "You got boys. They play sports."

Well, okay.

I mean, I understand that. 

I guess. I mean, I wanted them to have a fun thing to do. They spend all their time with me, and I really thought them having something fun to do outside the house would be... fun.

I don't think I really thought it through all the way. 

I narrowed my eyes at the husband and said, "I have spent the last 5 out of 7 days/nights in some way doing something with flag football. That is not okay with me."

It felt good just to whine about it.

The girl kid was also doing an extra voice clinic. That meant that the only night that we weren't busy during the week was Tuesday. That night quickly filled up too. Saturday mornings were now dedicated to football games, so that meant there wasn't a morning where we weren't up and at them early. 

I felt like I was going a little crazy.

And the whole world is like this. Everyone I knew was like this. When you greet someone and you say, "How are you?" they would respond, "We are so busy!"

And now I found myself saying this too.

Why?

One thing the Lord was clearly showing me here was that I needed to get out of my house. I need to be around people. I need to interact with people other than those in my own tiny little world.

I got that.

And it was nice. To meet new people and be around different folks. 

Okay.

And I realized that I cannot be at home all the time. 

I got that.

But how do I be this busy and not lose myself?

And getting this busy made me feel disconnected from God. 

I really, really hated that.

And then I hated even more when I started feeling okay about being that disconnected from God.

That made me really panicky.

I hated having one eye on the clock in the morning when I was spending time with Him. I hated knowing that I had only a certain amount of time and then I had to move on. I hated feeling the clock ticking all the time.

I hated how I felt: scattered and tired and emotional and in the middle of a giant mess.

The up side was that I didn't have time to think. 

I see why people get this busy. It's sort of like being drunk. You're numb and like a robot. 

Nothing real happens. 

We anesthetize ourselves so we don't have to deal with what's going on inside of ourselves.

And by "we," I mean "me."

And I think we use our kids to do that, for the most part. There's plenty for them to do, and you can literally spend all of your time shuffling them from one thing to another. 

I ended up this way, and it was quite by accident.

I kept wondering, "Why? Why do we do this?"

To avoid the realities of life? To avoid what's deep inside of us? Because life didn't turn out the way we had hoped it would so we pour everything into our kids and into making our lives busy so we don't have to think about what could/should have been? 

It's hard to think these things at the YMCA when your kids are happily at flag football practice. 

You feel sort of abnormal.

Maybe I'm over thinking it all. Maybe we can just be happily super busy and have deeply committed, active, intimate relationships with our Savior. Maybe this is just a joyously happy busy season of life, and when the kids are gone we settle back into a slower paced existence with our spouses, content to just be alone with them moving slowly through life for a change. Maybe we are allowing God to do a work deeply in our hearts and spirits more than I think we are, and there is fruit later from this season of life, and we will reap in joyous plentitude all that we are sowing in our lives now.

And by "we," I mean "me."

I'm reading a book on prayer, and this quote jumped out at me this morning:

Many Christians give in to a quiet cynicism that leaves us unknowingly paralyzed. We see the world as monolithic, frozen. To ask God for change confronts us with our doubt about whether prayer makes any difference. Is change even possible? Doesn't God control everything? If so, what's the point? Because it's uncomfortable to feel our unbelief, to come face-to-face with our cynicism, we dull our souls with the narcotic of activity.

It's easier to be busy than to think.

I get that. 

I also worry that when I'm this busy that there is the potential for me to mess it all up. I'm too tired to be kind to my husband. I'm too busy to listen to the depths of my daughter's heart. I'm too distracted to teach my sons how to be men of God. The house certainly isn't clean and we aren't eating healthy food and I'm bossy and nagging and weepy and angry and stressed and not good for a lot of anything positive, much less eternal.

Then our first sermon from a sermon series on prayer happened. 

I sort of knew that it was going to kick my butt. The Lord was gracious enough to have prepared me for that beforehand. I knew it was coming.

Luke 17 ~

And just as it happened in the days of Noah, so it will be also in the days of the Son of Man: 

they were eating, they were drinking, they were marrying, they were being given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all.

It was the same as happened in the days of Lot: 

they were eating, they were drinking, they were buying, they were selling, they were planting, they were building; 

but on the day that Lot went out from Sodom it rained fire and brimstone from heaven and destroyed them all.

I think mine would look like

she was cooking and baking and eating, and schooling and doing laundry and cleaning, and teaching and reading writing and running and trying to lose those exasperating 15 pounds, and dying gray hair and laughing and watching zombie television shows and doing lots of good in Your name and texting and listening and sharing and studying and talking and...

then she died.

(The Bible doesn't point out all the evil that society was doing during these times. Just the happy, normal business of life.)

So maybe that's not so bad. Maybe that's what we all want. Have a good education, get a family, and nice house, enough money to go to WalMart when you need to, go out to eat, take a vacation and be nice.

Don't get too wild and crazy. Don't talk about the Bible too much. Don't get all weird and make people feel uncomfortable. Most definitely don't ruffle any feathers. Just be nice, normal and go with the flow. Be ordinary. 

Then you die and stand before Christ, and you and He can hash it all out. There's grace, right? He understands. He understands that I had a house to clean and kids to get to football practice. 

I'm sure of it. He understands. 

He just wants us to be happy.

This is what my busy soul thinks, anyway.

Reflections on Revelation

We studied Daniel when Zane was a baby.

I'll never forget studying in the bed each night with commentaries spread all around me, trying to do so quietly, barely moving as not to disturb his little baby body snuggled next to me. I remember sitting in the floor sharing with the ladies of our Bible study group while he crawled over my legs. I remember literally being on my knees asking God to help me understand the complexities of the last half of Daniel. I remember making manipulatives and dancing them across the floor trying to explain verses and chapters. I remember being so completely exhausted at the end of that study, and I remember asking the ladies to do Revelation.

And I remember the resounding, "NO!"

Not that I can really blame them.

I have wanted to study Revelation since then. I tried a time or two on my own, but I felt the longing to study it with someone. I waited patiently, trusting that time would come.

And as God so often does, the opportunity to study Revelation didn't come when or how I expected it, but I also recognized the opportunity to grow in trust of this God. So there it was: a sermon series. 

I was a little nervous and very excited.

It started really well.

I plunged into this enigmatic book asking God to do a work in me.

And He did.

I wanted this to be a life changing study for me. I really did. I wanted to learn things that would change me forever. I wanted to raise an ebenezer that I could look back on for the rest of my life as a result of spending time with this book.

I decided I needed something tangible to keep my mind stayed on what I was studying. I chose this beautiful carnelian bracelet. {The lady that made it lives in the Canary Islands, and receiving a package from there was almost as fun as the bracelet inside.} I haven't taken this bracelet off since I received it. I love to rub the stones and feel the coolness and smoothness of them under my finger.

I am so very addicted to the tangible.

(And He who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian...Revelation 4:3)


I studied and studied this book. I studied until I dreamed about it. I studied until I talked about it to nearly everyone who would listen. I read commentaries and articles and listened to sermons and taught it and thought about it and longed to have deep discussions with hot cups of tea until the early hours of the mornings. I stayed up late and got up early.  I studied until I was sad and nervous and discouraged and fearful and wanted to quit this life and run away.

I'm sure that's about ninety percent all the wrong things to do. But that's what I did.

I opened one of the books that I use for the kids in school one morning and these words leapt off the page at me:

I heard the imploration, "See the big picture." Stop studying the intricacies and step back. See it as a whole. What is the main message? What is the big picture?

I'm not good with the big picture.

I like the intricacies.

I like charts.

We got no charts.

{I'm still a little bitter}

But I learned something in that too. I'm learning to ask myself more, "What is the big picture here?"

In life. In my walk. In God's plan for my life. "What's the big picture?"

See? I'm practicing.

I also learned not to be too hard on myself here. I didn't walk away from Revelation with a perfect understanding of this book. Or even a perfect understanding of why it's okay not to have a perfect understanding of this book.

But God was so gracious to remind me of the first time I studied election. I studied and studied and came away from that study just as confused and broken and sad and searching as I did when I started.

God said, "Rest." So I did.

I studied it again later. I came away from the second study not as confused but still sad and less trusting of God. I felt like everything I had known had been wiped clean but I still didn't know what I truly believed. I felt unsettled and exhausted.

And God said, "Rest." So I did.

A sermon ushered me into my third study of election. I wearily opened the Bible and thought, "Here we go again."

And this is where God did a work. He showed me new things in verses I had read so many times before. He took me on a journey through Scripture and led me through this study with such sweetness and light, and I came away from it rejoicing in His perfect plan. I still couldn't fully wrap my mind around election, but my need to explain it all humbly crumbled to the desire to embrace it rather than process it.

It was good. Now I see this beautiful plan of God's woven all throughout Scripture and wonder how I missed it all before.

As I wrestled with the way I studied or failed to study Revelation, God poured out His grace in reminding me of this other journey. He reminded me that I have a sweet foundation of what I did learn in Revelation this time and there will be a time to study it again and build on this foundation.

I am so deeply and profoundly thankful for that.

We start a new series tomorrow in church. As Revelation fades into the rear view mirror, I find myself oddly sad. Tears drip down my face as I think about closing this book that seemed so daunting just a few weeks ago. I don't want to leave it behind. Ringing true is Revelation 1:3

Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy and heed the things that are written in it...

I am sentimental by nature, but more than that, I want to remember what I learned. I want to stay changed. I want to be challenged by these words still, even after today.

Perhaps what I want to remember the most is the simple summary that rang from the pulpit and continues to echo in my head over and over again:

our God wins

Despite what my humanistic eyes want to see and what my deceptive heart wants to believe, this simple truth has the potential to change every single nuance of how I live. And I want to continue to strive to let it.

And oh I want to worship this way every single second of every single day~

"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing...To Him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb, be blessing and honor and glory and dominion forever and ever." 

Farewell, Revelation, for now. I promise to think of you often. And I look forward to spending time with you again. I'm really thankful you are the most spectacular and unimaginable ending to this great Canon I love so much. 

My Love

I read the blog post a long time ago. It sat in my email box waiting all this time.

I email myself things to read later and have for years. It is my version of Pinterest. If I find them especially compelling, I save them in a file folder named "Important/Keep for Later."

But I have thought about this blog post literally since the day I read it. I have been wanting to find a time to expound on it but for some reason a post just never came together. 

Until today.

The post I read, and emailed to myself, was about what stirs your affection for Christ and draws affection away from Him. How everything we do basically draws us to Him or away from Him. The issue isn't right or wrong. It's what's right or wrong for each of us, outside of what Scripture mandates as sin.

{that's always bad for us}

As I moved through my days after reading this post, I started asking myself with each thing I did, 

Does this make me love Christ more?

It became a dangerous question to ask. 

Perhaps not everything we do can be classified this way. 

For instance, does doing the laundry or cooking or cleaning or running errands or the plethora of other things I do each day make me love Him more?

In a round about way, I guess so. 

And I, being the base person that I am, am typically safe when I'm terribly busy doing things I need to be doing. 

I think this is one reason the Lord keeps me so busy.

But there is down time. 

So outside of what I have to do each day, I started evaluating each thing I did with that question: Does this make me love Jesus more?

And the results were very convicting.

There were some areas revealed where I truly found my affection for Christ being dulled:

~mindless television

~browsing on Twitter outside of the people I follow

~certain music

~some movies, even ones I used to love

~particular books

~certain people and the way they speak about others

~places I could go, especially ones that take me back to the decade of debauchery

and there's more

I knew that these areas were places and situations where I immediately felt drugged and heavy. I hated the way I felt when I pulled myself away from these things. It was like pushing back from the table where you overindulged in a heavy meal. 

Sluggish and miserable.

I hated it. 

There were gray areas too. Places I could stay briefly and be fine. But staying a moment too long would tip me into a heavy place I didn't want to leave. 

I continued to filter my actions through this question and found it helped in guarding my thoughts, my spirit and my feelings about Christ and His kingdom.

I felt myself pulled toward things that stirred my emotions for Him.

And that was fine.

And good.

But this morning suddenly things clicked as to why it was so important for me to continually filter each and every thing I do, exhausting though it is.

We are studying Revelation in church.

It's been good.

Hard, but good.

I settled in to study the part of the letter in which Christ addresses the church at Ephesus. 

The word gently lifted off the page and pierced my heart:

"I know your deeds and your toil and perseverance, and that you cannot tolerate evil men, and you put to the test those who call themselves apostles, and they are not, and you found them to be false; and you have perseverance and have endured for My name’s sake, and have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Therefore remember from where you have fallen, and repent and do the deeds you did at first; or else I am coming to you and will remove your lampstand out of its place—unless you repent."

And there is was. This was why God had taught and was still teaching me to so guard that love and affection for my Savior. 

It's easy to lose. 

Even when you are busy working for the church. For Christ. For Him. Doing what you think is best.  Serving. Being busy and pleasing and hearing affirmation and praise and rolling right along, perhaps even patting yourself on the back. 

The question seized my heart and repeated itself over and over again, relentlessly, demanding an answer:

Who do you love?

I was quick. 

"I love you, Lord. I do..."

But do I? My words say it, but does my life? 

Jesus called them out. He said, "You don't love me like you used to. And I know it. I cannot be fooled by your good works and your lofty deeds. I know..."

"But I do. I love you as I ever have."

I kept insisting it. 

Warren Wiersbe said this:

What is 'first love'? It is the devotion to Christ that so often characterizes the new believer: fervent, personal, uninhibited, excited, and openly displayed.

Oh. 

Well maybe I've gotten a little older and more mature in my faith.

Or perhaps I Tweeted and Honey Boo Boo'd my way straight into a huge pit of apathy.

Surely not.

I read the commentary and my eyes filled with tears. It said this love should look like a newly betrothed groom who clasps his love to his chest and declares for the first time that she is his.

Oh, that kind of love. 

I turned to Ephesians 3. Paul knew of this church's struggle with loving Christ. It's why he addressed this issue over and over in his letter to them:

"...you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God."

I set out under the morning sun to work this out with God. I asked Him to help me love Him more. More than any man or child or thing on this planet. I begged Him to teach me to love Him more.

And how I spend my time fit squarely in with that request.

Because Jesus said,

"Remember from where you have fallen

repent

do the deeds you did at first..."

What do I do that makes me love Christ more?

~spending deep and long times in the Word

~long, dedicated, purposeful prayer 

~intentional time spent in praise of Him

~speaking truth to myself initially and others secondly

~serving only where God tells me to and prayerfully considering any and all offers or requests to serve

~cultivating a listening ear for and an obedient heart toward the Spirit 

There's more, of course. 

And don't you dare slant any of this to a legalistic aspect that argues we are free in grace. 

We are free to serve and obey a risen Lord who deserves nothing less than a life spent in worshipful servant hood and obedience flowing from a heart so grateful for salvation that a simple eternity isn't long enough to fully express the gratitude felt. 

He deserves to be loved first, fully and completely.

And this is why that email from me to me sat in my inbox for so long. It was waiting to come together with the Word of God in a way that I hope and pray change me and make me more like His Son. 

I'd better put it in the "Important/Keep for Later" file. 

One way to do the Great Commission

"...And Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

We knew this day was coming. The day we had worked for, prayed toward, anticipated and dreaded all that the same time. 

I knew when I woke that morning that God was going to show Himself faithful. He had before, and He would again. 

I also knew this was going to be a hard day. 

The first mercy I noticed that day was that instead of the literal 100+ degree temperatures we had been having for several days in a row, we instead had pouring rain. This provided its own challenges, but nearly anything is better than blistering heat.

I made my way to the home where Jess was staying. I backed into the open garage to ready the van for loading her bags. I climbed out of the van and opened the door to her standing in the kitchen brushing her teeth. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. 

Her eyes said it all.

I smiled and clicked into business mode. We loaded her bags and started making our way to the airport with her friend following us through a torrential downpour. 

We pulled off the interstate and as we waited for the red light, this is where we were at:

We aren't ever far from laughing, no matter how close to tears we are. This look was followed by both. 

We pulled up to the airport, and I hopped out to go secure a cart to load her bags onto. I was directed to the carts by a nice employee but after walking the long sidewalk to where the carts were kept, I realized I had 3 of the 4 dollars it cost to rent a cart. I made my way back down to where Jess waited and the same employee stepped into my path and pointed into the airport, saying, "Just go in there and grab one of those carts."

Thank you, Lord. A free cart.

Mercy number 2.

I hurried into the airport where the cart waited and nearly smashed into Jess' friend's fiancé.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a bit incredulously.

He had a flight that morning for work.

Of course he did. 

He unloaded her bags from the van onto that cart like they weighed nothing. We laughed (marveled) at God's provision. 

Mercy number 3. 

After the sweet friend rolled the bags into the airport, loaded them each onto the scales and back onto the cart, we thanked him for doing Cross Fit so faithfully. And thanked God out loud for the provision of this strong back to handle this baggage for us. 

Speaking of baggage, Jess had 5 bags, each which could only weigh 50 pounds each. We had struggled here so much, weighing the bags at home, trying to figure out what to take, what to leave, what to ship later, what to donate, and how to get it all to Africa. 

We knew that we were close on the weights of the bags, but also knew that we had done the best we could. 

As sweet friend swung each bag to the scale, we held our breath. Each bag weighed at least 2.5 pounds over the weight limit. 

The two kind employees that were helping us smiled and shook their heads, quickly motioning the bags off the scale, overlooking the extra weight.

They allowed Jess approximately 13 pounds of extra baggage on that flight. That is huge. 

I cannot even explain how huge. 

Mercy number 4.

We worshipped Him for that one right there in the middle of the airport. 

This luggage had literally caused Jess to lose sleep in the week of preparation before she left. And the Lord covered it.

We also knew that the cost to get all of this luggage to Africa was going to be about $500. This grieved Jess greatly because it was money she felt could be used for better purposes. 

We prayed about it, and the Lord provided the money for her to be able to pay the fees. 

Mercy number 5. 

She told the airport employee that it was going to be $500. The lady looked at Jess for a second and said, "That sounds like a lot of money. I'm going to talk to my supervisor, and I'll be right back." 

Jess waited.

The lady came back and said brightly, "That will be $300, please."

Jess said, "But I checked on the website beforehand, and it said it would be $500."

The lady said again, "That will be $300, please."

I think she was smiling too.

Mercy number 6. 

My heart just sang in praise to Him. He had so clearly gone before us and paved the way with this luggage, that silly as it seems, had given us so much trouble. I got lost in prayer and praise to Him, trying so hard to keep up with thanking Him for all the ways He had provided for us so far.  

More friends had arrived, and more strong backs loaded the baggage onto the conveyer belt that would take it where ever it needed to go. 

We were laughing and actually having fun now. I think I even forgot why we were there for a moment or two. Jess is blessed with amazing friends. 

The baggage is DONE! 

But then the fiancé had to leave to catch his plane. She had to say good-bye. She would miss the wedding of one of her closest friends to this sweet man. 

As I watched her my breath caught in my throat. It came crashing back back why exactly we were here, and I wasn't ready to say good-bye. 

After wiping away tears, we looked up to find that more friends had arrived at the airport. We started smiling and laughing again, taking some pictures and moving toward a section of the airport where we could just sit and chat for awhile. 

And we did. Talked, laughed, organized ourselves on Voxer so that we could all keep in touch throughout the day. The team from Africa started texting and sending pics of themselves getting ready to greet her on the other end. It was all fun and we were all enjoying ourselves...

Then a friend said we should pray over her, and as his voice started praying, I felt the panicky feeling that the end was nearing. His prayer was precious and each time his voice caught, tears threatened to spill. When he finished praying, he pulled out his wallet and got out all the money he had. $8. We all started laughing and crying at the same time. $8!?!?! He said, "Maybe you can buy a snack at the airport with that..." But he insisted she have it. 

We kept laughing until he said, "Okay, I think we should head that way..."

Jess stood up and my heart sank. 

It was time.

No matter how many years you prepare to say goodbye, there really aren't words to describe how hard it is.

It's really easy to say you'd give it all up for Christ until you actually do.

We waked toward the gate in silence, and one by one each of us said good-bye. 

There aren't words for that. 

All I could do at that point was stand there and keep taking pictures~

We waited for her to get through security and watched for her at every step. 

We literally cheered her through the security checkpoint. She was sobbing and we were too. The kind couple behind her spoke encouraging words to her, and the lady said about her tears, "You just let it all out, dear." Her husband said, "I hope you have as good a welcoming committee on the other end as your send off team here." 

It was all a little much. 

We cheered and yelled words of encouragement and love to her as she emerged from security. She paused to get her backpack on and then waved good-bye.

We stood and watched her until she was out of sight. 

We all turned and walked out of the airport.

I would like to emphasize how faithful God was that day.

I also cannot overstate how hard it was too.

It's been a hard almost two weeks. 

I've cried more than I have in a long time. 

A gentle email came from a sweet friend on staff at our church. She asked me how I was doing. 

Silly.

But I confessed how sad I was. How conflicted I was by my selfish emotions at not wanting her to go and not knowing what I was going to do without her here. 

This faithful woman of God reminded me of Acts 20, when Paul left the Ephesian Elders. He said: 

...I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace...

This is definitely the commitment Jess has to God's calling on her life.

But the last verses of this chapter make me weep:

When he had said this, he knelt down with all of them and prayed. They all wept as they embraced him and kissed him. What grieved them most was his statement that they would never see his face again. Then they accompanied him to the ship.

It was hard to say good-bye not knowing if I would see her again. I was so thankful for the reminder from my friend and from Scripture that weeping and sadness were definitely okay. 

(One of the things I've always loved about Paul is his weepiness.)

It's hard on my end to miss her so much. I keep finding new ways and new times and new places to miss her. It's so hard to have to depend on shaky internet to communicate. There are days I can't reach her. I have new ways to trust Him with her safety. It's hard working around an 8 hour time difference. It's hard knowing that she's tired and not feeling well and overwhelmed and sad and not be able to be there to help and/or encourage. I have to watch each and every word I say or type to her. That makes it hard to encourage her. My kids miss her too. 

It's so hard on her end now too. I looked at her sweet face on the computer, and I couldn't help but think about what life was like with a newborn. She is exhausted, not feeling well, not sleeping well. Her hair was a mess, she doesn't wear makeup anymore, she doesn't wear cute clothes anymore, and though these things seem almost silly, they are a huge adjustment. Add to that a different climate, different time zone, different food, culture, no home, few belongings, sickness and persecution and discrimination, it's not an overstatement to say that she's fighting for peace.

Fighting hard. 

Even in the deepest knowledge that you are absolutely and perfectly where God has called you to be, there are no guarantees that it's going to be easy.

 In fact, we never thought it would be.

Easy, that is. 

There is a fierce determination to walk in obedience. And there is more mercy and grace in this place for her than most of us will ever know.

I won't go into detail about what she has already experienced in the way of the reason she is there, but I will ask you to pray, and pray often. As much as He brings her and her team to your heart.

I also cannot help but confess that this whole experience has changed the way I view things. It's becoming harder for me to see and process the way we do things and talk about things. I'm praying and asking God to show me what in me needs to change, and I am becoming more aware of how different we are than Christians in other parts of the world. 

I hope, and pray, it's making me more bold in my faith, less concerned about what people think and more committed to offering myself in service to Him in spreading this gospel. 

I am also fully aware that not everyone is called to move to Africa. I know without a doubt that not everyone is called into full time missions. I know that not everyone needs to go to a far away place to share the gospel. In fact, there is great damage being done in His name by people who really need to stay home instead of going.

That said, the Great Commission is a command given by our Savior to tell this gospel. Everywhere. How people can debate that absolutely astounds me, by the way. 

 I am praying that He will continue to work in me as I learn more and more how to do this. 

The word "go" in the verse that started this post is the Greek word πορεύομαι which is the verb "poreuomai."  People will tell you that this verb means "as you are going." There is truth to this. Obviously we are to speak this gospel to anyone in our paths as we go through life. 

The actual definition of this verb is:

 travel, journey, go, die.

I won't say that this doesn't make me catch my breath.

This is the other part of this command. Not just "as you are going" but travel. Journey. Go. And die if necessary. 

And as not all of us are called to GO far, like Jess, did how will we know if we are called unless we ask? 

And wait for an answer?

Jess didn't just happen to go to Africa. It was an 8 year process that took more hard work than I have seen anyone exert in a long time. It took prayer, planning and willingness. I could fill volumes with things I saw in her that she worked hard at in this process and all that He did in her and through her as a result.

So yes, let's share this gospel as we go to work and the park and oh please, as we go to church. Let's live in the gospel, reminding ourselves of it daily. Let's teach it strictly to our children. Let's live it out in faith out of love to Christ who saved us from separation from God through His death on a cross out of love and obedience to His Father. 

Let's do that as we are going. But let's GO there too. To the hard places. Let's offer it all to God and see what He does. What He says. 

He may say, as He has to me for now, to stay. 

Or He may say, as He did to Jess and others, to GO. 

And go far. 

And give it all.

I have seen this passage no less than 10 times in nearly every place I have turned these last 2 weeks. Each time I read it, I feel the sadness of her leaving and at the same time rejoice in her obedience. And it leads me to pray for those who may be wrestling with the difficult yet beautiful calling of our God to GO with this message:

...the word of faith we are proclaiming: That if you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

And this makes me celebrate in the midst of my sadness:

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

Romans 10

I am so proud of Jess. I am so proud of her for doing what's right and for doing what is so hard. I'm so thankful for a church and for a body of Christ that supported her and sent her out so well. I'm thankful for an organization that prepared her well and sent her out well and is supporting her well. (I can't believe I'm about to say this but) I am thankful for a domination that has fought for a long time for what is right, no matter how flawed it is and no matter what issues there are. 

and

I may never hug Jess again.

But now, more than ever, I am aware that 

He is worth it all.