Since I have been open to and aware of it, I found that very often God orchestrates multiple areas of my life to coincide. I say "very often" instead of "always" because I believe I interfere, resist or try to orchestrate this myself and end up missing His beautiful invitation to come and be Mary at his feet instead of Martha in the kitchen. I also say "since I've been aware of it" because I think our self-awareness is so great until about 20 that we cannot even hear other flesh and blood people when they talk to us over the incessant self-chatter going on in our souls and brains. But, maybe that's just me.
At any rate, I remember first being acutely aware of the aligning of what had previously seemed incongruous pieces of my life into a beautiful "whole picture" my sophomore year of college (okay, I wasn't quite 20, but I also didn't acknowledge that the revelation wasn't all about me for years either). I was taking British Lit, World History and Old Testament that semester (along with other non-relevant classes). One week, my world history class ended up discussing the exact same time frame that pertained the book of the Bible we were covering in Old Testament and the over arching themes from both of those related to the essay assignment from Brit Lit. It was like waking up and realizing that the whole world had an order and I was just beginning to catch on. It was intoxicating! I began looking for interrelations between all of my classes every semester, and usually they did pertain to each other. Besides helping my be more witty and poignant on my essays in each class (I'm sure my Bible Prof is still confused about me quoting Beowulf in relation to Daniel facing Lions), I'm not sure I learned a lot of deep spiritual truths from creating my own "classical education model" of my classes. However, the trend has held true as God has spoken to me (not out-loud! for Heaven's sake! I would pass out) over the years since then.
This jaunt down memory lane does have a point.
God has done it again.
But this time He's coordinating efforts between Jonathan and I to save time. I came back from our Madison visit 3 days before Jonathan. Partly because I couldn't bear to be away from my babies any more and partly because he needed to be able to focus at the conference he was attending. He went to Basic Training for Church Planters put on by the SWBA (I think...or maybe some other acronym I haven't learned yet). At the conference he had to develop and present a Vision and Core Values Statement for our church planting effort to Madison. We've been working on Mission Statement and Vision Statement over the last year, so I didn't expect a huge flux from those basic tenets. However, he came back all jazzed up about his class and vision statement and core values and the process by which he wants to plant and....you get the idea. (I know some reading this have never and will never meet Jonathan, but take my word for it, I married the one man on the planet who talks more than I do! He uses up his alotted word quota for the day and launches into mine!)
This was exciting and inspirational and I wanted to take notes and make a slide show for him. The problem was that he flew in at 10:00 Wednesday night and left for a 76 hour shift at work at 8:00 Thursday morning. So, between kissing his boys goodnight, unpacking and re-packing his bag and letting him get a few hours of sleep, he didn't really get the time to sell me on the vision God gave him. He left with, "Tell you everything when I get back..." floating back to me from the receding Jeep.
But God knows that we need to be on the same page. From (nearly) the start, we have been equally excited about and committed to this calling on our family. For that's what it is: a calling to our whole family. There is no such thing as the solitary church planter (unless he's single). The whole family plants. We all give til it hurts when it comes to Jesus. And that's how we want to be as a family. But there's only so many hours in a week and we run out of them before we run out things to do to reunite and revamp and re-energize (Mark Driscoll at Re:Surgence would be so proud of all my "re"s). So, God took matters into His own hands (where they should have been all along) and gave me my own crash course in vision.
While we were in Wisconsin, Mark Millman had given us Transformational Church by Ed Stetzer and Thom S. Rainer. I flew home with it and started reading it on the plane. Immediately I was gripped by the ideas presented and the passion displayed through their research of churches that are actually out there living the Gospel. Their emphasis on "heart for the community" really echoed with me. They talked about "relational intentionality" that had already been circling in my head. And their chapter on transformational leaders convicted and inspired me. I was so excited to share with Jonathan when we had a minute (haha).
Well, we finally got that 15 minute window between sending the boys to play and someone crying and we sat down to talk. Jonathan launched into his pitch and it was eerie to me as I began hearing all the things that had stirred my heart over the last week. He showed me the diagram and shared the core values and they resonated with what all God had led me too from reading Transformational Church. I felt such peace from knowing that we were already on the same track, already sharing the same brokenness and vision for Madison.
On top of the book, my ladies Bible study has been going through 1 Peter and it landed squarely with what we are experiencing and praying for. We are being dispersed to go and spread the Gospel to the outer areas, way out of the Bible belt. And there will be trials and hardships and persecutions. But when we truly love Jesus and live out of that love, our love for the city of Madison will explode and our prayerful dependence on Him will lead us on the adventure of a lifetime. I'm so excited to walk with my husband, chasing Jesus down this path.
Now, if we could just sell our house...Actually, it makes all the mundane stuff fall into perspective too. If I believe that "He who has called [us] is faithful" enough to implant the identical vision in Jonathan and I from 1700 miles apart, then I believe "he who began a good work in [us] will bring it to completion".
"He makes my feet like hinds feet and makes me walk on my high places"
Showing posts with label faithful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faithful. Show all posts
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Panic vs. Peace
My son has his first broken...well, anything...but this happens to be a broken nose.
Poor kid. We went to the park on a play date with friends. There's a huge fallen tree there that had been struck by lightening, and the city of Belton decided it was safe and left it laying there. It forms a big arch and is begging to be climbed on. In the past when visiting, Judah has been allowed to climb it with a parent (usually Jonathan)'s supervision. However, yesterday, he did not ask for help. I was carrying Elijah, diaper bag, sippy cups, holding Gideons hand and about 20 yards away when I saw him slip and fall off the highest point, about 5 1/2 feet up. He looked like he was sky diving or belly flopping and I saw him bounce his face. My heart immediately clenched, but I've been a mom for 5 1/2 years, and I know to wait before I panic...kids bounce!
This was not a bounce. When he popped back up, screaming and clutching his nose, blood was pouring from his fingers. That mom instinct that says, "Drop everything and get to your hurt child" kicked in and I nearly chunked Elijah in an effort to run to Judah. Luckily my friend Leslie was right behind me and a threw Elijah at her and sprinted towards Judah.
I hate that my fear makes me go into lecture mode! I started in on, "Judah Cecil! Why were you climbing that tree! You know not to climb that tree without me or Daddy with you. You didn't even ask me!" I had to tell my fear to shut up and let my Momma love take over with compassion. I ran/marched him to the bathroom where of course there was no lights, no towels, no mirror, no toilet paper and only a push button sink, the kind that slowly comes back up turning the water off. I would shove it down, splash water on his face and wipe blood away. By the time I reached back to rinse my hand off, the water was already off. I couldn't see anything and he was crying and writhing. I just picked him up and headed for the car. I asked Leslie if we could just follow her home and use her bathroom and some ice.
I threw kids in carseats, not even buckling Judah (I didn't know that at the time, I was just in a rush), threw the car in drive and punched #1 on the speed dial: Jonathan. I was shaking and on the verge of freaking out, so I started talking out loud to myself, "Calm down! It's ok. Jesus is here and He's in charge. Jesus, please give me peace and wisdom. Please help me see what to do." About that time Jonathan picked up and as calmly as I could I related the events. I told him I didn't think (in my head) that I should take Judah to the ER. His nose wasn't crooked, the bleeding had already basically stopped and aside from charging me $400 to stuff cotton up his nose, I don't know what they could do. He agreed and told me to keep him on the phone until I got to Leslie's and could assess the damage.
At Leslie's Judah had calmed down immensely. We washed the dried blood off his face and gave him an icepack which his nose was nearly too tender to handle at first. I looked and it seemed to be your basic bridge-of-the-nose crack (that's where the blue bruising line was) with no sideways cant to it. The part that looked the worst was that tip of his nose and right under where it connected to his lip that had gotten really badly scraped. He is quite literally a brown-noser right now! Ha!
What amazed me was that it took all my conscious effort to keep trusting Jesus. I kept having to "preach" myself back down from panic and tell myself to seek Him and His peace. I kept asking Him to show me the way and wisdom. I want to be that carefree scrapes-are-what-make-em-boys mom, but I'm really a quivering, shaking, that's-my-baby-who's-hurting mom.
He was so brave. So stoic. So tough. He kept saying, "I'm ok mom. I'm tough. I'm being tough. Right mom?" It was precious. I just wanted to cuddle him and let him sleep with me (though I probably would have bumped his nose 20 times). I kept him up later watching movies to avoid danger with a concussion and when I put him to bed he slept soundly and woke up fine.
A Doc friend of mine at church told me there was nothing they would have done in the ER, he probably had a mild concussion and he'd be fine with rest. That was nice to hear.
But what really got me was imagining what could have happened. It could have been his arm, his leg, a rib, his cheekbone, an ankle. He could have knocked himself out. Gotten a major concussion. Broken his neck! What I keep seeing, in my minds eye, is Jesus holding him in the palms of His hands and setting him down on the ground virtually unscathed for falling 6 feet. Bless His holy Name!
I told Judah that. I told Him that Jesus had protected him. I knew his nose hurt (to which he said, "Not much anymore Mom! You gave me ice cream and it feels better! Jesus healed my broken nose with ice cream!"), but it could have been so much worse. Jesus had held him in his hands when he fell and protected him.
When he prayed tonight, Judah said, "Thank you Jesus for holding me in Your hands and protecting me. You are good. I love you. Please heal my nose. And help me do my work fast at school so I can have recess." Makes me tear up just typing it. I love that boy. And I long for him to fall more and more in love with Jesus every day. He's been struggling with liking Jesus lately. Jesus makes him go to school. Jesus makes me obey. Jesus makes me discipline him when he's naughty. Jesus can be a real drag sometimes to a 5 year old. It was breaking my heart to watch him struggle, because he had been so passionate about Jesus a few months ago. I had prayed for Jesus to be real, show Judah tangible ways He loved him. This is not necessarily what I meant, but it sure was tangible to Judah.
Thank You for Your Love and Mercy, new every morning!
Poor kid. We went to the park on a play date with friends. There's a huge fallen tree there that had been struck by lightening, and the city of Belton decided it was safe and left it laying there. It forms a big arch and is begging to be climbed on. In the past when visiting, Judah has been allowed to climb it with a parent (usually Jonathan)'s supervision. However, yesterday, he did not ask for help. I was carrying Elijah, diaper bag, sippy cups, holding Gideons hand and about 20 yards away when I saw him slip and fall off the highest point, about 5 1/2 feet up. He looked like he was sky diving or belly flopping and I saw him bounce his face. My heart immediately clenched, but I've been a mom for 5 1/2 years, and I know to wait before I panic...kids bounce!
This was not a bounce. When he popped back up, screaming and clutching his nose, blood was pouring from his fingers. That mom instinct that says, "Drop everything and get to your hurt child" kicked in and I nearly chunked Elijah in an effort to run to Judah. Luckily my friend Leslie was right behind me and a threw Elijah at her and sprinted towards Judah.
I hate that my fear makes me go into lecture mode! I started in on, "Judah Cecil! Why were you climbing that tree! You know not to climb that tree without me or Daddy with you. You didn't even ask me!" I had to tell my fear to shut up and let my Momma love take over with compassion. I ran/marched him to the bathroom where of course there was no lights, no towels, no mirror, no toilet paper and only a push button sink, the kind that slowly comes back up turning the water off. I would shove it down, splash water on his face and wipe blood away. By the time I reached back to rinse my hand off, the water was already off. I couldn't see anything and he was crying and writhing. I just picked him up and headed for the car. I asked Leslie if we could just follow her home and use her bathroom and some ice.
I threw kids in carseats, not even buckling Judah (I didn't know that at the time, I was just in a rush), threw the car in drive and punched #1 on the speed dial: Jonathan. I was shaking and on the verge of freaking out, so I started talking out loud to myself, "Calm down! It's ok. Jesus is here and He's in charge. Jesus, please give me peace and wisdom. Please help me see what to do." About that time Jonathan picked up and as calmly as I could I related the events. I told him I didn't think (in my head) that I should take Judah to the ER. His nose wasn't crooked, the bleeding had already basically stopped and aside from charging me $400 to stuff cotton up his nose, I don't know what they could do. He agreed and told me to keep him on the phone until I got to Leslie's and could assess the damage.
At Leslie's Judah had calmed down immensely. We washed the dried blood off his face and gave him an icepack which his nose was nearly too tender to handle at first. I looked and it seemed to be your basic bridge-of-the-nose crack (that's where the blue bruising line was) with no sideways cant to it. The part that looked the worst was that tip of his nose and right under where it connected to his lip that had gotten really badly scraped. He is quite literally a brown-noser right now! Ha!
What amazed me was that it took all my conscious effort to keep trusting Jesus. I kept having to "preach" myself back down from panic and tell myself to seek Him and His peace. I kept asking Him to show me the way and wisdom. I want to be that carefree scrapes-are-what-make-em-boys mom, but I'm really a quivering, shaking, that's-my-baby-who's-hurting mom.
He was so brave. So stoic. So tough. He kept saying, "I'm ok mom. I'm tough. I'm being tough. Right mom?" It was precious. I just wanted to cuddle him and let him sleep with me (though I probably would have bumped his nose 20 times). I kept him up later watching movies to avoid danger with a concussion and when I put him to bed he slept soundly and woke up fine.
A Doc friend of mine at church told me there was nothing they would have done in the ER, he probably had a mild concussion and he'd be fine with rest. That was nice to hear.
But what really got me was imagining what could have happened. It could have been his arm, his leg, a rib, his cheekbone, an ankle. He could have knocked himself out. Gotten a major concussion. Broken his neck! What I keep seeing, in my minds eye, is Jesus holding him in the palms of His hands and setting him down on the ground virtually unscathed for falling 6 feet. Bless His holy Name!
I told Judah that. I told Him that Jesus had protected him. I knew his nose hurt (to which he said, "Not much anymore Mom! You gave me ice cream and it feels better! Jesus healed my broken nose with ice cream!"), but it could have been so much worse. Jesus had held him in his hands when he fell and protected him.
When he prayed tonight, Judah said, "Thank you Jesus for holding me in Your hands and protecting me. You are good. I love you. Please heal my nose. And help me do my work fast at school so I can have recess." Makes me tear up just typing it. I love that boy. And I long for him to fall more and more in love with Jesus every day. He's been struggling with liking Jesus lately. Jesus makes him go to school. Jesus makes me obey. Jesus makes me discipline him when he's naughty. Jesus can be a real drag sometimes to a 5 year old. It was breaking my heart to watch him struggle, because he had been so passionate about Jesus a few months ago. I had prayed for Jesus to be real, show Judah tangible ways He loved him. This is not necessarily what I meant, but it sure was tangible to Judah.
Thank You for Your Love and Mercy, new every morning!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Ebenezer
This is an interesting time of year for me. Not only is it the new year, but it's also my birthday. I turned 30 yesterday (yes, happy birthday to me) and it is such an odd feeling. On the one hand, I'm delighted to be older, to be maturing, to be growing out of some of my baggage and selfishness and silliness (my closest friends might beg to differ, but this is my blog and I can make whatever outrageous claims I want to). On the other hand, it's completely unbelievable to me that I'm 30. I really still feel 24. Not that I don't notice the energy slump, the extra time it requires to recover from my New Year's Eve party, the extra ache in my knees after a run. But when someone says, "Oh, her daughter's about 24," I think, "Oh, my age!" I have to stop and correct myself that 24 is NOT my age. It's over half a decade younger than me. And that's an odd feeling.
But this morning in the quiet before my boys started stirring and the day exploded around me, as I sat with my Bible and my holy cup of coffee, I thought back over this last year (which has been crazy) and over as much of the last 30 as I could remember, focusing on the last 10. What do I see? I see God's faithfulness. He has been so faithful. I have been through a lot of ups and downs and challenges. I have struggled; I have wept; I have fought and kicked against the goads. I have doubted and questioned and thrown fits. But God has not. God has kept steady and solid and sure. God has tirelessly pressed on, pressed upward, pressed into me. I distinctly remember times when I was sure He was on vacation or at the very least on the other line! But when I look back I see the refinement, the prodding, the gentle, or at times not-so-gentle pressure. I see times when I felt like I was going through hell only to look back now and see His mercy. His tender, terrible mercy.
And I'm reminded of Israel. They have no king, just judges. Lines and lines of judges, some of whom have done well; some not so well. And here they are, under Samuel. Not only a judge but a godly prophet. They have finally gotten the ark back. They made a muddle of things there, bringing the ark to a fight that God had not picked, but they have rectified the situation, gotten the ark back and want a new beginning. They ask Samuel what to do and in the midst of the altar call, here come the Philistines again. They obviously hadn't learned their lesson from all the tumors and rats that God inflicted them with and they think they'll have the same result as last time when they captured the ark. But this time, Samuel is there. Samuel cries out to the Lord and asks for His mercy, His might, His will. And God answers with a whopper of a thunder storm, knocks the Philistines silly and Israel has the victory. So this time, they did it right. For now, they are following the God of All Creation.
In a humble spirit and totally surrendered, Samuel sets up a stone of remembrance and calls it Ebenezer: Thus far as the Lord been faithful. Up til now, things have been crazy. We've been running things our way some and God's way some. Sometimes we're surrendered; sometimes we're stubborn. But so far, no matter what we do, God is faithful. So far, we cannot look back and pinpoint one time that God has not done exactly what God said He would do. Right now, and there is no evidence to the contrary, He is a faithful and good God.
That's where I am this January. This 30th birthday. Thus far has the Lord been faithful to me. Thus far He has accomplished His will and purpose through me and for me. Thus far, His Name has been glorified and my good has happened, even in spite of me sometimes. Thus far, He has been the author and perfecter of my faith. Thus far I have not gone without food or shelter or friends or family or love. Thus far...
But this morning in the quiet before my boys started stirring and the day exploded around me, as I sat with my Bible and my holy cup of coffee, I thought back over this last year (which has been crazy) and over as much of the last 30 as I could remember, focusing on the last 10. What do I see? I see God's faithfulness. He has been so faithful. I have been through a lot of ups and downs and challenges. I have struggled; I have wept; I have fought and kicked against the goads. I have doubted and questioned and thrown fits. But God has not. God has kept steady and solid and sure. God has tirelessly pressed on, pressed upward, pressed into me. I distinctly remember times when I was sure He was on vacation or at the very least on the other line! But when I look back I see the refinement, the prodding, the gentle, or at times not-so-gentle pressure. I see times when I felt like I was going through hell only to look back now and see His mercy. His tender, terrible mercy.
And I'm reminded of Israel. They have no king, just judges. Lines and lines of judges, some of whom have done well; some not so well. And here they are, under Samuel. Not only a judge but a godly prophet. They have finally gotten the ark back. They made a muddle of things there, bringing the ark to a fight that God had not picked, but they have rectified the situation, gotten the ark back and want a new beginning. They ask Samuel what to do and in the midst of the altar call, here come the Philistines again. They obviously hadn't learned their lesson from all the tumors and rats that God inflicted them with and they think they'll have the same result as last time when they captured the ark. But this time, Samuel is there. Samuel cries out to the Lord and asks for His mercy, His might, His will. And God answers with a whopper of a thunder storm, knocks the Philistines silly and Israel has the victory. So this time, they did it right. For now, they are following the God of All Creation.
In a humble spirit and totally surrendered, Samuel sets up a stone of remembrance and calls it Ebenezer: Thus far as the Lord been faithful. Up til now, things have been crazy. We've been running things our way some and God's way some. Sometimes we're surrendered; sometimes we're stubborn. But so far, no matter what we do, God is faithful. So far, we cannot look back and pinpoint one time that God has not done exactly what God said He would do. Right now, and there is no evidence to the contrary, He is a faithful and good God.
That's where I am this January. This 30th birthday. Thus far has the Lord been faithful to me. Thus far He has accomplished His will and purpose through me and for me. Thus far, His Name has been glorified and my good has happened, even in spite of me sometimes. Thus far, He has been the author and perfecter of my faith. Thus far I have not gone without food or shelter or friends or family or love. Thus far...
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Into the Dark
As a youth minister, I was way more on top of modern culture than I am now...and that's not saying much! Ha! I'm not what you'd call "culture savvy" sometimes. However, there was/is a particular movement among youth culture that I absolutely could not handle: Emo. Ugh! It drove me insane. "To be great is to be misunderstood" Congratulations! You have achieved Nirvana! I do not understand you at all. But make you great...we may disagree on that conclusion.
As a youth minister I was constantly encouraging the teens to think through the consequences of that illogical goal. What was the ultimate end of attempting to make sure people don't understand you? But I digress. I don't need to get on my soap box about illogical, emotion based youth movements. Chances are, if you read this, I'm preaching to the choir anyway.
Of the many throw-away creations from that movement, there was one song that stuck out: I Will Follow You Into the Dark. It is a terrible song! If you listen to the lyrics you realize this artist is totally rejecting Judeo-Christian beliefs of the afterlife, presumably based on a bad grade-school experience and his inability to conform to the idea of fearing God as the beginning of true love. So, instead, he offers his significant other a third option instead of heaven or hell. Whenever she dies, he will also (kill himself?) and they will just hold each other in the nothingness forever.
If you know me, you must be wondering why in the world I listened to this song enough to even know what it's about. Because besides being a terrible song, it is a beautiful song. It has one of the most haunting melodies I've ever heard. The melancholy longing and the passionate "give it all up for you" love spoken in the lyrics is unmistakable.
After I heard this song, I spent months trying to put other lyrics to it. In the true spirit of Christian music, I tried to replace the words with Amazing Grace, and found if I used "The Steadfast Love of the Lord" as the chorus, it worked out perfectly! Ha!
Ironically, that's not what has been most applicable to me lately. When Jonathan first came to me with the notion of church planting, I rejected it immediately. There was no way I was walking away from my dream job. I had worked too hard and prayed too long to be a youth minister to give it up and chase some crazy idea of planting the Gospel elsewhere. I wanted to plant the Gospel in my teens. I wanted to teach awesome Sunday night devotionals, have true, heartfelt worship with new songs, play stupid games and go to camp. That might sound like a Japanese torture chamber to some of you, but that's the life I love and I wasn't going to give it up.
But God had other plans. Slowly and painfully, he began prying my fingers off of my life. He was gentle but insistent. He claimed that I had given Him my heart and my "yes" years ago, and now He was calling in His marker. I remember nights of weeping and wailing (yes, quite literally) at Jonathan for this transgression of "bait and switch" he had pulled on me. I had married a youth minister and now he was going to be a pastor! I was going to have to give up my hip faded jeans and American Eagle waffle shirts and wear flowery dresses and white pumps and sit on the front row! That's what a pastor's wife did! Ugh! I didn't even know how to play piano!
But as God began thawing my heart (and sometimes with a blow torch), I began falling in love with not only Him again, but with His vision for reaching lost people. I had no idea how to plant a church, how to be a pastor's wife, how to support my husband and raise our 3 kids, how to raise support or even how to ask for help. But I did know Him, and He who called is faithful!
I remember the night I looked at Jonathan, nodded in assent and said, "Ok. I will follow you into dark" I didn't mean it emo. I wasn't going to slit my wrists. But I was going to surrender to God, submit to my husband and hand-in-hand we were going to walk off the cliff trusting God to make the tight-rope appear that He had called us walk on.
I find myself saying that a lot to God these days. "I'm following You in the dark right now, Lord" I'm not sure how we're going to sell this house, find money to move, leave our friends and family and strike out into the wild blue yonder, but I know we won't be doing it Alone. I know we're following the One who called us on this journey and is leading out ahead of us.
We're still following Him in the dark, and Jesus' love hasn't failed us yet.
"Thus far as the Lord been faithful--Ebenezer"
As a youth minister I was constantly encouraging the teens to think through the consequences of that illogical goal. What was the ultimate end of attempting to make sure people don't understand you? But I digress. I don't need to get on my soap box about illogical, emotion based youth movements. Chances are, if you read this, I'm preaching to the choir anyway.
Of the many throw-away creations from that movement, there was one song that stuck out: I Will Follow You Into the Dark. It is a terrible song! If you listen to the lyrics you realize this artist is totally rejecting Judeo-Christian beliefs of the afterlife, presumably based on a bad grade-school experience and his inability to conform to the idea of fearing God as the beginning of true love. So, instead, he offers his significant other a third option instead of heaven or hell. Whenever she dies, he will also (kill himself?) and they will just hold each other in the nothingness forever.
If you know me, you must be wondering why in the world I listened to this song enough to even know what it's about. Because besides being a terrible song, it is a beautiful song. It has one of the most haunting melodies I've ever heard. The melancholy longing and the passionate "give it all up for you" love spoken in the lyrics is unmistakable.
After I heard this song, I spent months trying to put other lyrics to it. In the true spirit of Christian music, I tried to replace the words with Amazing Grace, and found if I used "The Steadfast Love of the Lord" as the chorus, it worked out perfectly! Ha!
Ironically, that's not what has been most applicable to me lately. When Jonathan first came to me with the notion of church planting, I rejected it immediately. There was no way I was walking away from my dream job. I had worked too hard and prayed too long to be a youth minister to give it up and chase some crazy idea of planting the Gospel elsewhere. I wanted to plant the Gospel in my teens. I wanted to teach awesome Sunday night devotionals, have true, heartfelt worship with new songs, play stupid games and go to camp. That might sound like a Japanese torture chamber to some of you, but that's the life I love and I wasn't going to give it up.
But God had other plans. Slowly and painfully, he began prying my fingers off of my life. He was gentle but insistent. He claimed that I had given Him my heart and my "yes" years ago, and now He was calling in His marker. I remember nights of weeping and wailing (yes, quite literally) at Jonathan for this transgression of "bait and switch" he had pulled on me. I had married a youth minister and now he was going to be a pastor! I was going to have to give up my hip faded jeans and American Eagle waffle shirts and wear flowery dresses and white pumps and sit on the front row! That's what a pastor's wife did! Ugh! I didn't even know how to play piano!
But as God began thawing my heart (and sometimes with a blow torch), I began falling in love with not only Him again, but with His vision for reaching lost people. I had no idea how to plant a church, how to be a pastor's wife, how to support my husband and raise our 3 kids, how to raise support or even how to ask for help. But I did know Him, and He who called is faithful!
I remember the night I looked at Jonathan, nodded in assent and said, "Ok. I will follow you into dark" I didn't mean it emo. I wasn't going to slit my wrists. But I was going to surrender to God, submit to my husband and hand-in-hand we were going to walk off the cliff trusting God to make the tight-rope appear that He had called us walk on.
I find myself saying that a lot to God these days. "I'm following You in the dark right now, Lord" I'm not sure how we're going to sell this house, find money to move, leave our friends and family and strike out into the wild blue yonder, but I know we won't be doing it Alone. I know we're following the One who called us on this journey and is leading out ahead of us.
We're still following Him in the dark, and Jesus' love hasn't failed us yet.
"Thus far as the Lord been faithful--Ebenezer"
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Silly Scared Me (or how I got my wisdom teeth out)
So, I had my wisdom teeth out Monday.
That was terrifying! I was so scared going in that room. My hubby had to wait in the waiting room with my 2 little ones and I had to go back by myself. I was petrified. After the nurse left to go get all the stuff, I started shaking I was so scared. So I started praying really hard for peace. I felt a bit silly about all of that, and asked God if I was really selfish for wanting Him to be with me when there were probably people being tortured for their faith somewhere. Why couldn't I put on my big-girl panties and quit blubbering? But I felt totally convicted that first off, prayer is not something we can do AND worry. We either pray or we worry, but we can't do both. Worry is prayer; it's just prayer to ourselves, which is of course impotent and pointless. Prayer is to a Sovereign God and is potent and useful. But worry with prayer is faithless and not pleasing to God. Secondly, He loves me! As usual, I keep forgetting that. I care when my kids are scared to jump off the bottom step of the stairs. I know it's silly and they'll be fine, but I care that their hearts are quaking. So God cares when I'm silly and spineless too. And I just got really humble and asked Him to be there with me in that moment and let me feel His presence there. Everything sort of shifted and felt better. I'm learning to ask Him for what I need spiritually as well as physically. I've always thought I could ask him for tangible things (healing, food, money), but I was supposed to create the spiritual things that were required (faith, peace, patience). How ridiculous! So, I just asked Him for the faith to believe He was with me, the peace to rest in Him and the love to have for Him. He's always faithful to answer those prayers.
Back to my traumatic story:
Then they put on the laughing gas, and it got much better! Ha! I know why they call it laughing gas, but I also think it's mean to call it that. I thought to myself, "This is laughing gas, so whatever you do--don't laugh!" So, of course, all I wanted to do was laugh hysterically. I managed to control it down to a really big grin, but I know the nurse was on to me, cause she was laughing at me grinning like a loon.
But I hate anesthesia! They were putting a pillow under my left arm, asking me about Ibuprofen, then they walked behind me to go around to the other side and put a pillow there, then they got me up out of bed and took me in a wheelchair to recovery! Seriously. I know that I went under, they performed minor surgery and then woke me up. But that's not my memory. You know when you're asleep, part of you knows you are asleep. And when you wake up, you know you've been asleep. This was NOT like that. I lost time. I blacked out. I time warped to 30 minutes in the future. It was unsettling, and frankly, terrifying to me. I started to cry. The nurse thought I was in pain, which was ridiculous because I was so numbed up and doped out I couldn't move my mouth. But my husband knew what was going on (and that my blood sugar was low). It was worth it (or will be when I finish healing) to have the pain from my wisdom teeth gone. But I hope I don't have to go under again! Yikes! However, God is so good, and used this scary experience to show Himself and his tender love for me to silly, scared me!
That was terrifying! I was so scared going in that room. My hubby had to wait in the waiting room with my 2 little ones and I had to go back by myself. I was petrified. After the nurse left to go get all the stuff, I started shaking I was so scared. So I started praying really hard for peace. I felt a bit silly about all of that, and asked God if I was really selfish for wanting Him to be with me when there were probably people being tortured for their faith somewhere. Why couldn't I put on my big-girl panties and quit blubbering? But I felt totally convicted that first off, prayer is not something we can do AND worry. We either pray or we worry, but we can't do both. Worry is prayer; it's just prayer to ourselves, which is of course impotent and pointless. Prayer is to a Sovereign God and is potent and useful. But worry with prayer is faithless and not pleasing to God. Secondly, He loves me! As usual, I keep forgetting that. I care when my kids are scared to jump off the bottom step of the stairs. I know it's silly and they'll be fine, but I care that their hearts are quaking. So God cares when I'm silly and spineless too. And I just got really humble and asked Him to be there with me in that moment and let me feel His presence there. Everything sort of shifted and felt better. I'm learning to ask Him for what I need spiritually as well as physically. I've always thought I could ask him for tangible things (healing, food, money), but I was supposed to create the spiritual things that were required (faith, peace, patience). How ridiculous! So, I just asked Him for the faith to believe He was with me, the peace to rest in Him and the love to have for Him. He's always faithful to answer those prayers.
Back to my traumatic story:
Then they put on the laughing gas, and it got much better! Ha! I know why they call it laughing gas, but I also think it's mean to call it that. I thought to myself, "This is laughing gas, so whatever you do--don't laugh!" So, of course, all I wanted to do was laugh hysterically. I managed to control it down to a really big grin, but I know the nurse was on to me, cause she was laughing at me grinning like a loon.
But I hate anesthesia! They were putting a pillow under my left arm, asking me about Ibuprofen, then they walked behind me to go around to the other side and put a pillow there, then they got me up out of bed and took me in a wheelchair to recovery! Seriously. I know that I went under, they performed minor surgery and then woke me up. But that's not my memory. You know when you're asleep, part of you knows you are asleep. And when you wake up, you know you've been asleep. This was NOT like that. I lost time. I blacked out. I time warped to 30 minutes in the future. It was unsettling, and frankly, terrifying to me. I started to cry. The nurse thought I was in pain, which was ridiculous because I was so numbed up and doped out I couldn't move my mouth. But my husband knew what was going on (and that my blood sugar was low). It was worth it (or will be when I finish healing) to have the pain from my wisdom teeth gone. But I hope I don't have to go under again! Yikes! However, God is so good, and used this scary experience to show Himself and his tender love for me to silly, scared me!
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