a coming joy

Sun shines through single-paned windows, warming my legs and catching the glitter on our Christmas tree. The shadow of my pen has been chasing curls of words across lined pages this morning as I have been thanking God for Christmas.

The significance of this morning’s sun can be known in context — for the past 10+ days, that ball of fire and gas and warmth has been hidden by what must be enormous clouds to prevent even glimpses of light rays. To say that it has been gray would be an understatement — not only cloudy, but cold and windy and damp. Each morning, I woke up expecting to have the same weather as the day before. The only variation was whether it would be drizzling or only misty, as the moisture has been constant. I wasn’t dreaming of a white Christmas — my wish was for sunshine.

This morning, the sky was orange and blue, as if the clouds and sun and sky knew that it was Christmas.

But of course, the One Who Controls the Weather knew.

What an incredible picture of hope. In the midst of a dark and dreary world, hope can be hard to see. But “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). Today, we experience the certainty that we have hope.

I know this time of year is not joyful for everyone. One of my close friends is still walking through the recent death of her mom, and I don’t expect that the holidays will be easier for her for many years. Many are mourning the loss of loved ones or the reminder of dashed dreams. Maybe you are looking back at the past year and not finding yourself where you wanted to be at this point in your life. The point of Christmas is not that today should be the happiest day of the year, but that it should be a reminder of the hope we have and the joy that is coming, a joy found only in a Savior.

Over 2,000 years ago, the nation of Israel was desperately longing for the fulfillment of a prophecy that would change their world. Their nation was split into two thanks to political rebellion (thus walking away from God’s plan for them), and that’s when the trouble really began. Both kingdoms were defeated by various pagan nations. God’s own people looked to other kings and peoples and gods for help, yet they were taken into captivity and away from their homes. And when they realized that they had strayed from a God Who protected them and loved them, they cried to Him for help.

The prophecies in Isaiah don’t promise immediate redemption for the people, but they foretell of reconciliation “in that day” – “The Lord will bring upon you and upon your people and upon your father’s house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah” (Isaiah 7:17). They had been treated unfairly, yet they were promised a ruler who would rule by God’s Spirit. “With righteousness He shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth” (Isaiah 11:4). He would bring peace and restoration and rescue from oppressors.

Don’t we still long for those things? This broken world oppresses us with hurt from relationships, stress from finances, sadness from death, and discontentment from disillusionment. The things we turn to for completion and happiness never fulfill the way we thought they would, and we find ourselves in need of something more, something we can’t attain on our own. Peace may come in small doses, but it is always destroyed by something new. Almost anyone can relate to the wish for something to change in your life.

Jesus’ birth was the answer to the Israelites’ prayer for a Savior and King. He was the fulfillment of the hope they had been clinging to, yet He wasn’t there to set everything right in this physical world. Jesus Incarnate was here to bring hope for our spiritual need. Christmas morning was the promise that God had heard His peoples’ prayers and was responding in love, but the hope wasn’t fulfilled simply with Jesus’ birth but later through His death. His birth meant that He could atone for our sins with His death thirty years later.

This Christmas morning, I am reminded that we are still waiting for that Savior. Our eternal destiny is secure, but our world is a mess. Christmas doesn’t make the mess disappear, but reminds me that our hope is found in what Christ will do when He returns. We have hope because of His birth and death, and that hope will be fulfilled at Christ’s return and reign.

He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. It will be said on that day, “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” (Isaiah 25:8-9)

Just because it’s Christmas doesn’t mean everything will be made right, like it is in every Christmas movie: Christmas morning comes, and families are restored. Marriages last happily ever after. Children are safe and sound. Finances are secure. But Christmas means that we can shift our focus from the disappointments of reality to the expectation of His promises.

Because the gift God gives is better than anything you will find under your tree today, and the hope He offers brings a peace this world has yet to experience.

Posted on December 25, 2014December 25, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

what my hands have made

If you had a way to check my location history (or, sadly, my bank account), you might see that Hobby Lobby is the place I frequent the most during the months of November and December. Walmart would be a close second, I am sure, but this time of year is when I often find myself staring down aisles of garlands and glass jars and felt and fabric, wondering which project I should tackle next. I take pride in my homemade ornaments and decorations throughout this home, and I love finding new pie recipes to test on dinner guests and parties during this time of year. Many a cold, gray day is spent with a cheesy TV Christmas movie, hot chocolate, and strands of hot glue and fabric scattered over the coffee table, and I like it that way.

Just a few weeks before Thanksgiving, I started a study on the book of Isaiah, and it’s pretty intense – in a good way. I am learning to look at this book in a historical context and literary context, and the intellectual side of me is thriving in learning more about God through the structure and content of Isaiah’s prophecies. Since I learn something new every week, though, I am finding I need to flip back through and remind myself of all that God is teaching me, and it’s pretty timely with Christmas approaching. So much of Isaiah’s message is to point Israel to their current sin and rebellion and consequences, then point them to a coming Savior and Messiah. Advent devotionals and church sermons and Christmas carols all constantly quote Isaiah, and I am finding that it is allowing me to go deeper into preparing myself for the celebration of Christ’s birth next week.

As I was reviewing notes from past chapters, Isaiah 2:8 stood out to me:

Their land is filled with idols; they bow down to the work of their hands, to what their own fingers have made

The nation of Israel was split into two nations during this time: The northern kingdom of Israel, and the southern kingdom of Judah. Israel had turned its back on Judah, and both countries were experiencing the consequences of their various sins, namely the worship of other gods and their desperate attempts to find rescue from alliances with other nations. They were no longer worshipping Creator God, Provider God – they were looking to pagan gods and rituals to solve their problems.

And as I survey our tree filled with homemade ornaments, the penny-pincher tree skirt created from a tablecloth, and the burlap stockings sewn with leftover wedding fabric three years ago, I wonder how the Israelites, with all of their incredible history, could ignore God and turn to things they, too, made with their own hands. While Hobby Lobby may feel like a magical place this time of year, there’s nothing in there that could be pieced together to create something to compare with the world our God has created. It baffles me that someone could carve something out of wood and stone then worship it as if it contained some piece of a deity. Unless, I suppose, their deity was represented by rock.

That phrase “the work of their hands,” though, strikes me as relating more to our day and age. We may not worship statues or canvases with painted resemblances of sun gods and beastly characters, but the things our hands create, such as success at work or academic achievements or even families and finances, often take our attention and our hearts away from the Holy God. I frequently find myself obsessed with material possessions or the life I want to create for us instead of finding myself at the foot of the manger, awed by a Creator God who contained Himself in a baby’s body to be with us.

But Isaiah prophesies that the day is coming when Israel will recognize that these idols have failed them, that the gods they looked to for salvation will not bring peace, and they will turn back to the God Who opened the Red Sea, the God Who rained down food in the wilderness, the God Who brought defeat against a giant, and the God Who preserved a people for Himself. Their salvation will only be found in Him.

Our hope, in the same way, is not found in the magazine-worthy, Pinterest-inspired living room at Christmas. A savings account with that magic number will not bring security. A perfect job or fulfilling community group or new home cannot hold our hope. As ironic as it sounds, our hope is found in the baby we celebrate during this time of year – because that baby was God, and that God grew as a man to take our sin consequences upon Himself so that we might find rescue in Him from this world and from ourselves.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)

Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation. (Isaiah 12:2)

Posted on December 19, 2014December 20, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

“I was the lion.”

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one Lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and–”
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”
“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”
“It was I.”
“But what for?”
“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

[C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy]

A friend and I talked this weekend about believing both the sovereignty of God and the goodness of God. She is in the midst of wrestling through life when it feels like things are crashing down, and I have been there, too. Times when you can’t see through the fog and you feel yourself falling with no rope to trust in catching you before you hit the ground. And while we often want a physical solution to our fall – we want that rope – God doesn’t always give the rope right away. Sometimes He simply wants your trust in the midst of your descent. He wants to get at your heart before He takes care of the visible problem, because the heart can be the bigger issue we are blinded to.

When you are falling, you have to believe that God is both sovereign and good – He is in control and is acting out of His love for You. I fully believe that God is in control, but I often struggle to believe that He is loving me through the trial. Instead, I feel like He is ignoring my prayers, or He doesn’t care about how I feel, or maybe that things will turn out okay in the end but not that they will turn out the best. That it won’t turn out in a way that will make me happy, simply that I will survive.

Yet God’s love and His power cannot be separated. They go hand-in-hand, and when we look at our trials with this perspective, things change.

Behold, it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness; but in love you have delivered my life from the pit of destruction, for you have cast all my sins behind your back. (Isaiah 38:17 ESV)

What a beautiful juxtaposition. For my good I walked through bitterness. It was in love.

A Horse and His Boy is my favorite book in CS Lewis’s famous Chronicles of Narnia. Shasta feels that he is the most unfortunate boy in the world. He finds out that the man he has been calling Father, the man he works almost as a slave for, is not really his father. He and a talking horse (who was captured from Narnia years before and has pretended to be dumb like other plain horses) decide to escape together, and at the beginning of their journey, they find themselves chased by lions, forcing them to join company with another rider who is also escaping to Narnia with her talking horse. Shasta gets mixed up in the big city with Narnian royalty and is separated from his group, finds himself alone among tombs while he waits for them, and then finds himself and his friends racing to the King of Archenland to let them know of a traitorous plan from the city to attack Archenland. During his race to beat the army to the king, a lion once again chases his group and wounds Aravis, the other rider, and he must run ahead, alone, to warn the king.

But we all know Who the Lion is.

The Lion’s purpose is not known by the children and their horses. They do not even know the name Aslan. Yet He has been present, guiding them on their journey, even having a purpose in wounding Aravis. Shasta believes he is the most unfortunate boy in the world, yet the Lion reveals that it was all done in love, to protect and care for and guide him to his prophesied destiny – saving Archenland.

What Shasta thought was for his bitterness was for his welfare.

What we think is for our bitterness just might be for our welfare.

When we see a trial, we must look through the lens of God’s love to see something more. We can’t always see the “why,” but we can look for the Who.

Behold, I go forward, but he is not there, and backward, but I do not perceive him; on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold him; he turns to the right hand, but I do not see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold. (Job 23:8-10)

He works for our good, for His glory, in all things. So when you are falling, or all you see is fog around you, speak truth to yourself to remind you of Who is in control and how He can take care of you. His purposes are bigger than us, and His plans are beyond our understanding (Isaiah 55:8-9). Yet while He is sovereignly working throughout the universe, He is present to love us and care for us as we walk through what we don’t understand. He knows our frame – He remembers that we are dust (Ps. 103:14), and His loving care is as a Father cares for a child, who doesn’t understand yet finds security in his father’s arms.

Look for Him in the midst of what you are walking through. Rest in his arms. Trust His love in your bitterness.

The God Who controls the universe is the same God Who came as Emmanuel – God with us – to be our Savior and Redeemer. And He loved you enough to not only wrap Himself in skin and become a baby, but he loved you enough to die in your place.

Posted on December 15, 2014December 15, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

piecing this season together

patchwork

I’ve been driving in the silence lately.

No radio, no iPhone Pandora, no phone conversations.

But I’m listening.

This time of year, things are constantly changing around me. Unlike summer, where you wake up each day expecting to sweat, or even winter, when it doesn’t matter what you wear that day because your coat will cover it, fall provides something new each day. The colors of leaves change drastically overnight. It can pour buckets of rain one day, then soak the earth in an abundance of sunshine the next. Layers are critical because you never know whether the cooler temperatures are here to stay or if summer will pop back in before saying goodbye. (Just for the record, I am still holding onto the hope that summer hasn’t said her final goodbyes yet. I may have worn a puffy jacket for the past week, but today I felt freedom checking the weather then leaving that jacket hung on its hook when I left the house. 50 degrees never felt so good!)

In the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the cold fronts and the holidays, it becomes easy to miss what’s going on in front of me.

Many trees have surrendered to cold wind and shed their foliage, but there are still some brilliant colors lining the streets of my commute. I don’t want to miss the last glimpses of orange and yellow contrasted with the gray autumn sky. I don’t want to miss the angle of sunlight that so perfectly causes the hills to glow, turning browns into golds.

I am normally someone who enjoys singing along to the radio as I run errands and destress from the day. But instead of a song lyrics getting stuck in my head, I am hearing the whispers of a Creator and Father. I find myself unexpectedly talking out loud, thanking Him for eyes to see Him in the change around me. While He Himself does not change, He is the one responsible for weaving together the transitions in perfect pairings.

It’s like the collages I used to make in high school. It was “the thing to do” among teenage girls, before Pinterest ideas came onto the scene – cutting out pictures from magazines and mod-podging them together to cover binders and lockers and birthday cards. While the pictures did not all necessarily go together, they worked together to decorate my life and showcase my personality. Mine normally had daffodils and words in fun fonts and trees and dream dresses.

I feel like that’s what God is doing during this season. This weekend, we were dusted with a light snow, and that snow on orange trees was odd for this part of the country, but somehow perfect. Coats and scarves are coming out earlier than normal, but Thanksgiving is later, and my heart can’t decide between clinging to November or anticipating Christmas.

When I look at the world around me, stopping to really notice what’s here, it seems the world is sewing together what doesn’t match to make a perfect patchwork quilt. I want to cuddle into that quilt, to find my favorite squares and notice the colors I never would have paired together but that somehow work. I want to drape it over my shoulders as a child with a cape and fully embrace this moment, this gift, this grace. I want to wear out that quilt until it is faded from love and use, not looking ahead at the next project of the Creator but being grateful for this one.

Driving in the silence has allowed me to hear more and see more and savor. I hope you are able to see and savor this season in all of its mismatched glory.

**linking up with Holley Gerth today: click the button below to check out her blog as well as other writers who are linking up to encourage others with their words

Posted on November 19, 2014November 19, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 1

the view from the branches

A cold front seemed to come out of nowhere this weekend.

It was like a car in front of me stopping suddenly, causing me to brake and brace for the jolt that comes with sudden change in motion. Yet instead of grasping for potentially airborne coffee mugs and cell phones, I found myself piled with scarves and blankets and flannel, staring out the living room window as if eyeing an opponent before battle.

As one who thrives in fall but despises winter, I need to be slowly coaxed into coats. Easing me into it is the best way to keep me happy, just like I prefer to start submerging toes in the shallow end of a cold pool before I am ready to go all the way under. The weather will be getting warmer again (thank goodness for Arkansas’ southern ways), but this taste of winter was enough to push me into hiding.

And it wasn’t just me who experienced the shock of quick change. Pretty leaves once fanning out and showing off colors shriveled up on branches as if in fetal position, begging to be shielded from the wind. I watched Saturday morning as flurries of leaves fell to the ground, giving up the fight to cling to trees.

Over the past few years, this dramatic seasonal change from September to December seemed to mirror my life during those months — from starting to date Eric to getting married to job changes for us both, this time of year in the past has involved a lot of transition. The past six or seven months, though, we have been experiencing something new: rest. By no means is life perfect, and by no means are we always content with this rest, but it’s an answer to a prayer that we have been praying for awhile. Our marriage is in a good place. Eric’s job is stressful, but he has figured out how to cope (most of the time). I feel like I am finding my role in ministry with Cru. Even our mischievous border collie has been content with cuddling on the couch or chewing an antler (rawhide is bad, people!) instead of chasing deer in the woods across the street.

However, I enjoy change and trying new things (albeit slowly, like the getting into a swimming pool situation), and I easily get restless if I am in the same place too long. I would be a leaf that fell off a tree not because I lost strength to hold on, but because I wanted to see what it was like on the ground. I have found myself several times over the past couple of months wondering what type of big change we could make to add some excitement to our lives, and from that grows a discontentment with a clear answer to our prayers.

In the midst of busy seasons, or hard seasons, or seasons of change, we desire something consistent, something secure. But when that constancy is present, we – or at least I – grow bored. I am constantly warring with that discontent, and there is always something new that I am longing for.

I am making a decision, though, to embrace the rest. To not let my guard down when it comes to the flirtations of wanting more of this or something other than now. To rejoice in God’s grace during this season, yet to not grow independent and distant from still needing Him.

When it’s time to let go of the branch and experience the fall to the ground – which happens to us all – I will trust the Lord in a new way. That fall means death is near — the kind of death that causes leaves to crunch under feet and crumble to dirt so that new green life can come in time. But my time now is to rest in the current life and not grow weary of the view from the branches. Because it really is a fantastic view.

Posted on November 2, 2014November 2, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

fall break musings

It’s as if someone clapped chalkboard erasers over my town this morning, the dust still lingering over buildings and hazing sunlight. This fog blurs headlights and creates a sleepy tone over morning activities. A sip of pumpkin steamer warms my throat as I observe the bustling coffee shop around me. 20-somethings in business attire work on silver laptops and sip coffee while college students in leggings and just-rolled-out-of-bed ponytails are surfing Facebook, most likely trying to find motivation to get work done during fall break. A group of middle-aged adults all laugh loudly at the same time, their excitement causing others to look up curiously. It’s almost too cliche to write about, yet here I am.

Another sip of my steamed milk + pumpkin pushes me to focus, picking up my pen to journal. Today is my monthly “Day with the Lord,” yet I must confess that I feel like too many things are distracting me from Jesus. Thoughts about my birthday celebration yesterday, what needs to happen with my schedule this week, and those cute boots I’ve had my eye on are all wearing hi-vis apparel in my mind, and I am struggling to look at anything else, especially God. Lord, why can’t I take my mind off other things? Why must material things and the expectations and approval of the world be so much more attractive than You?

I’m embarrassed to admit it. My head knows that Jesus is better than anything this world has to offer, but my desires right now are for tangible things. Success in ministry. Cute fall outfits. Having a well-decorated home. Spoiling my husband with one of his favorite dinners. Not bad things, I suppose, but I can tell they are encroaching on Christ’s rule in my heart, and I am fighting a losing battle on my own.

We all fight a losing battle on our own. Our flesh is weak when it comes to the flirtations of this world. Paul David Tripp describes a constant war going on “between the awe of God and all of the awe-inspiring things that are around you that God created… any glorious thing in creation was given that glory by God so it would function as a finger pointing you to the one glory that should rule your heart – him.” Too often, though, I am focused on that finger and miss the purpose of the finger. What is it pointing to?

The leaves here are transitioning from green to golds and burgundies and fire colors. The cool, crisp air persists later in the morning and develops earlier in the evening. The angle of light is sentimental, seeming to always provide the perfect backdrop for the beginning of a story. Boots and scarves have made their appearance, and warm drinks are a standard accessory to any outfit. Yesterday morning, a playful wind whipped through our yard while Eric and I were planting tulip bulbs and a tree, and it coaxed some leaves to let go of their tree and dance around aimlessly before resting on the ground at our feet.

These are the fingers pointing my heart to God. These are the things God wants to use to draw me to Himself during this season — and while my tendency is to focus on the glory of fall and the coziness of cardigans, I am now praying that God allows me to enjoy these things because they are reflections of His character, not just because they are fun things in themselves. He is Creator. He is the one clapping chalkboard erasers and selecting colors for each leaf. The comfort I find in a flannel scarf and wool socks is an emotion created by Him, and I can rejoice in how He created my heart.

There is an awe of creation. But there is an even more amazing awe that we are loved by the God who created it all. And that’s what – or rather, Who – I want to capture my heart this season. Through His grace, I am able to fight back against the temptations to worship the wrong things. His grace is sufficient for me, and His love is beyond what I deserve.

Posted on October 21, 2014November 2, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 1

bruised apples

I peeled apples this morning.

Fifteen small McIntosh apples one by one lost their red skin to reveal grainy flesh. Peel fell into the waiting trashcan in short, wide layers; I have yet to master Meg Ryan’s curly-q technique. Though a tedious task, these apples were bound for a purpose that kept me peeling — the promise of apple butter outweighed the monotonous work.

As layers disappeared, they unveiled hidden blemishes beneath shiny red skin. Brown scabs, bruises, and discolorations affected each one. These were not flaws of a bad apple – simply normal, just not noticeable from the outside. If you peeled away the layers of just one and compared it to the other shiny red ones which had not been peeled, you might think the one peeled apple was bad, that it was unhealthy and therefore useless.

Over the past few weeks, we have been focusing on some specific women’s issues with the girls in our ministry. We did an event called “Stand Up For Your Sister” during fall retreat, and just this past week we had a dessert and discussion on authentic community, bringing up topics like forgiveness and conflict resolution which seem to especially plague women’s friendships with each other.

And my hope and prayer through this is that girls stop comparing their flawed flesh with the shiny red skins of others.

Several girls have admitted to lying on their “Stand Up For Your Sister” survey because they thought they would be the only one who struggled with that issue: praise the Lord that they were able to visibly see that they are far from alone!

My hope is the same for you, whoever you are, reading these words. You know your own flaws and struggles and sins more thoroughly than anyone else in your life, so when you compare yourself to others, you normally compare your flaws to the assumed perfection of those around you. I know I so easily get discouraged at how often I fall and how far I still have to go, and I have a tendency to think no one else is experiencing loneliness or body image dissatisfaction or discontentment with their current life stage.

But the truth is, we are each flawed. We all have things we wish we could change or improve or resolve, but those things don’t make you any less valuable or worthy of love. You have been accepted by God, just as you are. He chose to save you when even you didn’t know about your bruises and blemishes. And He offers you a freedom that can only be found in Him.

Posted on October 17, 2014November 2, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

making time to catch acorns

Most days, I walk the dog in a hurried, let’s-get-this-over-with sort of manner. If the weather is pretty, we might walk the whole path at Gulley Park, but if he is having a feisty morning, or if I got a late start, we cut through the middle and he gets jipped.

I always thought my walks with the dog would be a significant part of my day, time in the morning to be with the Lord. But somewhere in between rolling out of bed and walking out the door leash in hand, I tend lose the desire for slow, for intentional, for quieting my heart. It becomes more about completing this task so I can move on to the next.

This morning, though, was different. Extended time with the Lord was a work requirement (what a tough assignment, right?), so Ridley and I wandered the trails at Lake Fayetteville, following the lake shore and the rays of morning sun peeking through leafy awnings. With one headphone connecting me to Pandora, a soundtrack of worship music played as we tripped along over roots and rocks and dirt. Normally I am staring straight ahead, but today I was aware enough to notice the acorns some squirrels dropped right in front of my path. I heard the songs of four or five different birds in a 30 second symphony. I found some of the first leaves who have welcomed the effects of autumn, proudly showing off their gold and crimson and tan.

The fall seems to consistently be the busiest time of my year. Between football season and cycling events and camping and weddings and campus events, my weekends are booked. While these are all fun things, the fall is a time when I want to sit and be still. To savor the slow change of life from sun and sweat and shorts to colored leaves and sweatshirts pulled snug over knuckles. The problem is, I don’t make resting a priority. I look for significance in doing, not being. And while the doing is good, I am learning that the being is what enables the doing.

This morning was the first time I have ever noticed the soft crown of an acorn. I’ve never found one so recently disconnected from the branch, I suppose, but the little caps hadn’t dried out yet. Pliable, feathery layers make up what later becomes roughly textured. Even now as I study the acorns I carried home, one of the caps has already dried up. The layers have formed into one, while the other nut still looks like that shaggy haircut every boy in ninth grade seemed to have when I was in school.

The window of time for catching acorns is brief. They will fall whether or not I am there to observe them — just as the leaves will change and the breezes will turn cold. If I want to soak it all in, I have to choose the stillness. The being over the going and doing. God’s presence over my to-do list will be a choice to daily make, but my hope is that being more aware of God’s gifts during this autumn season will fuel me for the going and doing that follows.

**linking up with Holley Gerth today: click the button below to check out her blog as well as other writers who are linking up to encourage others with their words

Posted on September 17, 2014November 2, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 3

stop trying harder

{Have you ever read the story of King David and Mephibosheth? If not, read it now in 2 Samuel 9.}

Inwardly, I know that I am crippled, but I do my best to hide it. I don’t want to live the life of a cripple, always needing to ask for help. I want the freedom of doing things on my own.

I tend to assume that the currency I bring before God is good. I try to serve Him with a pure heart, so I expect to be slowly healed of my handicap. After reading Scripture, though, I realize – and hate hearing – that my works are worthless to earn healing. That feels so harsh! I often prefer to think of it as simply the wrong kind, like I am trying to use US dollars in Uganda. But USD are worthless in Uganda unless you exchange them. And God’s kingdom doesn’t work with an exchange bank.

I am daily dependent on God’s grace, though I don’t always accept it or even want to.

I don’t know why I want so badly to do it myself. God’s generosity is a wonderful gift! I want to recognize His generosity the way Mephibosheth must have. I want to have the joy of knowing all is grace, all is a gift. But it goes against my natural tendency to want to prove myself and my capabilities.

The account both begins and ends with the statement that Mephibosheth was crippled in both feet (see verses 3, 13). Mephibosheth never got over his crippled condition. He never got the the place where he could leave the king’s table and make it on his own. And neither do we. (Jerry Bridges, Transforming Grace)

You, dear friend, are also crippled. You can’t make it on your own. As hard as you try, you will never find sufficiency in yourself for your job or your ministry or your relationships or your faith. Too often we try to do things on our own, assuming that it will help us grow. We think that we can practice walking to strengthen our legs – one day gaining enough strength to walk correctly and without assistance.

But the more I think about it, and the more I humble my own spirit, the more I am blessed by the knowledge that, no matter how hard I work at it, I cannot make it happen. It’s not that I need to try harder, and there is freedom in accepting that! If I know that something is just out of my reach — if I work hard enough, I can gain the strength to go just a little further — I can’t rest until I practice and accomplish. But there is rest in knowing that I need to stop trying to be good enough. I must daily live as a recipient of God’s generosity. All is grace, whether it’s my marriage or my ministry or my own walk with God. He will daily carry me to His table, and anything that is accomplished by me is by Him.

As you process through what life has handed you right now, turn and look to God to be the one to carry you through. Ask for eyes to see His grace in action, and let go of the burden that you just need to try harder. Make that choice daily to let go.

Posted on September 1, 2014September 1, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 0

where’s my gold star?

“Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and recline at table’?Will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink’?Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded?So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’” (Luke 17:7-10, ESV)

I’m the girl who will do just about anything for a gold star of one sort or another. I like recognition and affirmation, whether it’s for an accomplishment at work or the praise of friends for whom I have cooked dinner. It doesn’t even have to be an elaborate gesture of a gold star — I just want someone to notice the effort I put into something and tell me, “Thank you” or, “You’re really great.”

That’s why I cringed as I read the above passage this morning. Because, all too often, I look for God to give me those gold stars. I am selfishly motivated to obey Him and take steps of faith in hopes that He will reward me for being so faithful and sacrificial. I want to be on God’s A-Team, and high school sports experience tells me that, to make the A-Team, you are qualified based on skill and rewarded for your results.

In his book Transforming Grace, Jerry Bridges explains the reality of the situation this way:

If we want to live by what we deserve, God could say, “All right, let’s first add up your debits, and then we’ll think about your credits.” Our problem is we don’t recognize our debits. We don’t recognize how far, far short we come every day in doing what we are supposed to do. And because of that, we tend to live by works instead of by grace in our daily relationship with God.

I am a servant, and any sort of ministry I am involved in is what God has given me to do. It’s what He asks of me, and while being faithful in a little thing will often result in being entrusted with more (Luke 16:10), I am merely a steward of what belongs to God. It’s not about what I am doing on my own, as God is the source.

But even further than that, understanding grace produces a recognition that what He has asked of me, I cannot accomplish on my own. It’s only by His grace that I am equipped for ministry, only by His grace that I have financial support, only by His grace that I have favor with students. My response should be humility, recognizing that my “gold star” is the privilege of serving Him.

Where in your life are you living by works, looking for that gold star from God? What in your life is actually “only by grace”?

Posted on August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 by Samantha Barnes 1

samantha c. barnes