Category: walk with christ

stopping to speak “grace”

After three days of sunshine and sixty to seventy degree weather, this rainy morning feels like a let-down. The temperature has dropped back down to the fifties, and I feel confined to the couch again. My plans to go to a coffee shop with my laptop and my Bible were foiled by an intense downpour just as I was putting on my rain jacket. Our border collie looking at me with sad eyes just begging to snuggle didn’t help, either, so I stripped off the jacket and settled back in to listen to the rain.

This week has been full. More so than normal weeks of work. I normally get gaps in my schedule here and there to get things done around the house or sit at a table on campus and catch up on texts and e-mails while waiting for the next appointment. Each spare moment has been filled with various work-related projects, cramming as much as possible into this week before spring break.

Yesterday, I felt myself at the epitome of desperate and shameless. In my thirty minute break between addressing invitations for our fundraising dinner and helping facilitate a class on how to lead a Bible study, I grabbed Slim’s to-go, arrived to the locked classroom early, and sat on the cold tile floor in the hallway. I crammed potato salad into my mouth and halfway glanced up at the students walking past me trying to hide their grins. It was my first moment since my day had started to simply sit and stare.

My nature is not to be anxious about what’s going on in my life. While I have many other sin-patterns and struggles, anxiety hasn’t been a prevalent one in my story. However, over the past couple of weeks, I have started to experience moments of panic. People have described it to me as a weight sitting on top of their chest, and I understand that metaphor now. When I try to take in all that will happen (or needs to happen) over the next two months or so, I feel that heaviness slowly creeping in and wanting to take over.

And the thing I am tracing it back to is a sense of carrying full responsibility for everything going on in my life — therefore negating God at work. I carry the weight that “if I don’t get this done right now, then xyz won’t happen and everything will fall apart.” As if God’s provision were dependent on my performance. I think that I have to get all of the details of my life together now so that I will survive April. As if God can’t sustain me day by day. I worry that I don’t initiate with friends enough and they will therefore stop being my friend because I forgot to text them to check in on their week.  As if even my friendships are dependent on my personal efforts and not God using people to be tangible examples of His love. As if He isn’t the One Who provided community in the first place.

I have started a new habit of stopping to close my eyes and repeat “grace” to myself in those moments. A verbal reminder that it’s not all up to me. A powerful whisper that cuts down my pride of self-sufficiency. I once heard someone say that maturing in your walk with God does not mean that you mess up less and less, so that you need less grace. Rather, spiritual maturity is consistently growing to recognize your need for grace more and more.

Our salvation is “not by works, so that no one can boast” (Eph. 2:8-9). Shouldn’t that mean that we live in that same “by grace, through faith” mentality in the everyday pieces of our lives?

In the moments when your schedule feels hectic and you aren’t sure how you will get it all done – grace.
When you are working against a deadline and worry about the results of not meeting it – grace.
As patience wears thin and your shoulder muscles start to tighten – grace.
In loneliness and fear and panic and dread and uncertainty – grace.

When you feel overwhelmed, try stopping to close your eyes and just speak the word grace over yourself and your activities. Take the focus off you and your own abilities, reminding yourself of your place in God’s grand story. He is still God. He is still both the narrator and the hero of the story. He is still the one in control, and in the role He has given to us, we are called to embrace grace.

At the end of each day, even every hour,  I will release everything and trust it to His care. I am not enough, but Christ is more than enough.  Whisper to yourself, “Grace.” 

Posted on by Samantha Barnes 0

you are known

Have you ever had one of those moments when someone did something for you or said something to you that made you feel known?

I have been given several gifts in my life that may not have been the most expensive or the most practical, but they were some of my favorites because they let me know that the gift giver really knew me. For instance, one of my best friends moved away after freshman year of high school, yet on my birthday sophomore year I received a gift in the mail of daffodil bulbs. Daffodils are my favorite flower, and Liz knew that, so I got to plant those bulbs and watch them come up in the spring as a reminder of her friendship. Senior year, my friend Scott gave me a gigantic jar of pickles because I was always stealing them from friends at lunch. And somehow he fit that thing in my locker to catch me off guard in between classes.

More recently, a friend gave me a very pretty yellow serving bowl because she knows my love of hosting dinners and cooking. Eric, the good man that he is, didn’t get me flowers or chocolates for Valentines Day — he gifted me a new pair of Chacos since mine are starting to wear thin in the soles. (In fact, my previous pair was a college graduation gift from him since the pair I had before that was also wearing out in the soles.)

There is something that just speaks to my heart when I can see that friend has acted in accordance with something they know about me, whether the gesture is large or small. I simply love to feel truly known by those around me.

In college, when I was struggling with singleness one semester, I cried out to God letting Him know how much I just wanted someone to want to know everything about me. Someone to care how I was feeling and to ask how my day was, genuinely wanting the answer. God brought me to Psalm 139 and calmed my anxious heart by reminding me the He, in fact, did:

O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it. [Psalm 139:1-6 ESV]

Of course, the downside to someone knowing you that well is that they also know all of your faults. I would say that Eric knows me so well that not only does he see my faults, but he is often not surprised when I mess up, because he knows my specific sinful tendencies and can see those woven throughout each mistake I make.

Yet he loves me anyway. And that means even more than someone loving me for only the good things they can see.

And, of course, this knowledge of our faults is also found fully in the same God who knows the wonderful things about us.

Because I know that you are obstinate, and your neck is an iron sinew and your forehead brass, I declared them to you from of old, before they came to pass I announced them to you, lest you should say, ‘My idol did them, my carved image and my metal image commanded them.’ [Isaiah 48:4-5]

God knew that His people had a tendency to ignore Him, even taking credit for His power. Yet that did not stop Him from working on their behalf – and one day bringing a Redeemer for that sin.

“For my name’s sake I defer my anger, for the sake of my praise I restrain it for you, that I may not cut you off. Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. For my own sake, for my own sake, I do it, for how should my name be profaned? My glory I will not give to another.” [Isaiah 48:9-11]

God knows every detail about you, and while He may allow you to walk through a “furnace of affliction” for a season, He does not abandon you due to your sin because He is at work to bring His name glory. You are part of His fame.

That last part – that ultimately it is about His fame – is essential to grasp in the concept of His love and forgiveness. The more you have been forgiven, the more you love the person who forgave you (Luke 7:36-50). As you recognize your need, the person who meets that need is more appreciated.

What needs has God met in your life? Where have you fallen short – and where have you seen God step in to meet you there? Have you given Him the credit?

 

Posted on by Samantha Barnes 0

responding out of belief, not fear

What is your first instinct when you hear bad news or encounter a difficult situation?

I still very clearly remember getting home from work one April afternoon after being married for about five months and finding that Eric had gotten there before me. I joined him on the hammock on our porch, not necessarily surprised that he seemed to be a little down. Work had been difficult for him for the previous few months, and he typically felt pretty discouraged at the end of the day. I cuddled up next to him and gently asked how his day was.

And he told me that he no longer had a job.
That the company had come into financial difficulty.
That they needed to make some cuts.
And that he had been that cut.

I knew this would be one of the most defining moments of our marriage, and my response would be critical to how we moved forward.

King Hezekiah knew his response to bad news would be critical, as well.

Sennacherib king of Assyria had invaded Judah and conquered all of their fortified cities. He sent one of his officers to meet Hezekiah’s officers with a message for Hezekiah. His words, described in both Isaiah 36 and 2 Kings 18, taunt the God of Israel, the One True God, and make a mockery out of both Israel and the God they serve. He even laughingly claims that their God told him to destroy their nation! The messenger chooses to not speak Aramaic, a language typically used for this situation and not understood by the common people, but he chooses to speak in the Jewish langauge so that he strikes fear not only into Hezekiah’s messengers’ hearts, but also in the hearts of the people listening.

Beware lest Hezekiah mislead you by saying, “The LORD will deliver us.” Has any of the gods of the nations delivered his land out of the hand of the king of Assyria? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Have they delivered Samaria out of my hand? Who among all the gods of these lands have delivered their lands out of my hand, that the LORD should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand? (Isaiah 36:18-20)

When his messengers came back with the news, it obviously distressed Hezekiah. Then Sennacherib sent messengers with more ammo against the God of Israel, essentially calling Him a liar and untrustworthy.

Do not let your God in whom you trust deceive you by promising that Jerusalem will not be given into the hand of the king of Assyria. Behold, you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all lands, devoting them to destruction. And shall you be delivered? (Isaiah 37:10-11)

Talk about a bad day! Yet Hezekiah’s response showed who he believed God was and what God was capable of.

Hezekiah received the letter from the hand of the messengers, and read it; and Hezekiah went up to the house of the LORD, and spread it before the LORD. And Hezekiah prayed to the LORD: “O LORD of hosts, God of Israel, enthroned above the cherubim, you are the God, you alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth; you have made heaven and earth. Incline your ear, O LORD, and hear; open your eyes, O LORD, and see; and hear all the words of Sennacherib, which he has sent to mock the living God. Truly, O LORD, the kings of Assyria have laid waste all the nations and their lands, and have cast their gods into the fire. For they were no gods, but the work of men’s hands, wood and stone. Therefore they were destroyed. So now, O LORD our God, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you alone are the LORD.” (Isaiah 37:14-20)

Hezekiah responded by affirming what he knew to be true of God and therefore what he knew God could do: bring salvation. Hezekiah affirmed that the God he served was the living God, not a god made by man’s hands and able to be burned by fire. He focused on the truth in the situation, not the fear that Sennacherib wanted him to cave in to.

I love the picture of Hezekiah spreading all of these threats before the Lord and praying. He gave it all to God, trusting that God was able to do something about it. He knew that if God was the God of all kingdoms of the earth, then He was the God over Assyria. He knew that if God made heaven and earth, then God made Sennacherib. The threats of a man meant nothing in light of the God who had ultimate power.

While I know there have been times I have given in to fear and despair, the moment on the hammock that April afternoon was not one of them. My response was to kiss my husband, affirm my love for him, then just start praying. Together, we affirmed that God knew our financial needs and that God was able to take care of us. We laid it all before Him and trusted Him to move us forward.

What truths about God do you need to not only recognize, but believe in as you walk through your own present circumstances? What uncertain situation is before you, waiting for you to spread before the Lord and acknowledge where you are but also acknowledge Who He is? How do you respond to what is trying to produce fear in your life?

Your response to the difficult places in life shows who you believe God is and what you believe He is capable of. We serve a God who is the Creator, Sustainer, and Ruler of All. He can handle it when we spread it all out before Him and acknowledge the scariness of our situation, but He doesn’t want us to stop there. He wants us to choose to believe the truth of Who He is, and our focus on that truth will make all the difference.

Posted on by Samantha Barnes 0

finding adventure right here

The best word to describe that summer was adventure. And I feel like, ever since then, I have been chasing that same idea of adventure, aching to seek it out and make it a part of my daily life.

But maybe my original concept of adventure is wrong.

adventure is right here

The summer after my junior year of college, I took a road trip (and a ferry ride) to Juneau, Alaska with a group of college students from Fayetteville and other campuses around the US. After spending 5.5 days on the road together, we obviously became very close friends. I then spent 11 weeks with these friends in Juneau on a Cru Summer Mission trip, learning how to start spiritual conversations and share my faith within a work environment, volunteering within the local community, being developed individually and with the community of women, and of course hiking and camping and fishing and crabbing and kayaking and every other thing you would dream about doing while in Alaska. Every week, we were exploring different trails and learning new things and growing in our friendships. I grew personally and spiritually that summer more than any other period in my life up to that point, so this adventure showed me quick progress and a steep but short climb to a place where I could see the view from above of where I had once been.

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{girls + leaders before our first overnight hike}

 

The very first trail our group hiked in Alaska led up to a rustic cabin and fire pit. By rustic, I mean it was four walls and a roof… and that’s it. We rolled out our sleeping bags on the unfinished wood floor and used a portapotty about 100 yards away. Honestly, I preferred nature itself to that portapotty.

The hike leading up to the cabin was unlike any other hike I had previously been on. As we started the hike, I noticed that the “trail” was made up of flat boards which had been secured just slightly above the ground. I kept expecting them to end, leading us to an actual dirt trail, but the boards went on for a significant portion of the hike. Juneau has a very moist climate, and it rained probably 75% of the summer we were there, so these boards allowed us to hike on the trail without getting stuck in mud. As we got closer to the top, the ground dried out more and the trail continued on solid ground. The view changed from soggy woods to a sunny meadow, and I remember feeling like we were finally making progress.

Not that we weren’t making progress on the boards. It just felt discouraging after awhile, maybe less exciting since we were walking on man-made planks instead of a rural path. Mud and damp is rarely as fun on a hike as sun and grass and wildflowers and space to see the view.

But it made a difference that we knew where we were going and had confidence that the trail would bring us to a place where we could take off our packs, build a fire, and start roasting our hobo dinner packets.

I think I am now seeing that adventure in life often looks more like the time I spent board trail rather than the more daring sections of our other experiences. There have definitely been times when, calves burning and lungs heaving, I find myself crawling uphill, hoping for relief and a chance to take in the view. There are also moments of descent and moments of sliding down on my rear end. Right now, though, I feel like I am walking through the boggy section of a trail. The planks help me stay out of the muck, but the view isn’t too exciting. The destination seems a little uncertain, and I am not sure how adventurous it feels to be walking along boards over mud. I can see glimmers of sunshine and green growing things here and there, but overall this part of the trail is shaded and monotonous.

My friend Kaitlin recently wrote about a journal she received which boasted “Adventure is Right Here” on the cover, and she described how she is trying to live with that in mind. Her words prompted for me the realization that adventure isn’t ahead of us, like the hope of change in scenery or getting off the boards and onto the dirt. It’s not only found in something new happening or in taking a step of faith. Each day is part of the adventure. Instead of living by the phrase “Adventure is out there!” (via Disney’s “Up”), I want to daily soak in that adventure is right here. I want to change my approach to the boggy seasons of life, which to me are a necessary evil to take me to the adventure. I want to see this section as its own great journey.

I am not someone who enjoys consistency and predictability. I have told Eric that I am willing to move if he gets a job elsewhere simply because something new sounds more exciting than a season of monotony. I am finding myself chasing change. But if I live like adventure is right here, right now, then my mindset will be focused on each step of the journey instead of always waiting for the next big thing because each day is the next big thing. Each day, even if it feels very much like the day before, holds its own new discoveries and challenges and details. Maybe it’s only something seemingly small, like a different species of trees shading the path, but there is something new to explore and something else to be grateful for.

Because the journey itself is what makes reaching the destination so much sweeter.

Posted on by Samantha Barnes 2

illogical, inefficient, but incredibly sovereign

The journey God has each of us on does not always make sense logistically. His plan does not typically seem like the most efficient way to get us from point A to point B, but for some reason, it’s the right way.

Two years ago, Eric and I began to pray and fast and seek God’s voice on a major decision: whether or not to join staff with Cru, a college ministry organization. Not only would this mean a job change, but it would also entail raising support for all of our expenses. It meant a major lifestyle change, from the 8-5 world to the more fluid world of a college student’s schedule. A change from the world of work’s measurable success in goals completed and numbers achieved to the world of all results of life change and Gospel acceptance being in God’s hands and not necessarily related to the hours put in each week.

So for five months we prayed and asked the Lord if this was where He was leading us, if we were supposed to turn off our current path of marketplace jobs and follow a new trail through the woods. And, very clearly, He told us to take this new course for our lives.

I quit my job. Eric worked 50+ hours each week in his marketing position, then came home to work his second job of raising support with me. We spent our evenings in meetings with various people, traveled out of town some, and prayed a lot. We continually found ourselves taking steps of faith and trusting God with the results. And He was continually faithful, in one way or another. Sometimes financially as relating to support. Sometimes financially as relating to our now decreased income. Sometimes relationally as restoring old friendships and providing new ones. Always spiritually as His presence daily being our sufficiency.

Yet the story doesn’t end with both of us being on staff with Cru. It took an unexpected turn when we felt like we needed to step away from that path to stop raising full support, allowing me to start on campus not-quite-full-time with Cru but Eric to stay at his corporate job.

Why didn’t God tell us that in the first place? Why did we walk through so many sacrifices and stressful days and dreams to end up somewhere other than where we originally saw God taking us?

I feel like the Israelites had to be asking themselves similar questions in Exodus 1, as Pharaoh begins to oppress them and force them into slavery in Egypt. But to really understand their story – and mine, and maybe even your own – allow me to briefly recap their story and how they ended up in Egypt.

Scene One: God’s covenant with Abram, specifically the promise that He will give Abram’s descendants a land of their own

Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:1-3, ESV)

Scene Two: God specifically tells Abram what land He will give them

On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your offspring I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates, the land of the Kenites, the Kenizzites, the Kadmonites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Rephaim, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Girgashites and the Jebusites.” (Genesis 15:18-21, ESV)

Scene Three: Jacob, Abram’s grandson, was living in Canaan, the future Promised Land, with his family – but it was not theirs yet. Joseph is sold by his brothers into slavery and taken to Egypt.

Jacob lived in the land of his father’s sojournings, in the land of Canaan… Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and let not our hand be upon him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers listened to him. Then Midianite traders passed by. And they drew Joseph up and lifted him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty shekels of silver. They took Joseph to Egypt. (Genesis 37:1, 26-28, ESV)

Scene Four: Joseph forgives his brothers for what they did to him and invites them to come live in Egypt, under his care, so that they may not be wiped out by the famine

So Joseph said to his brothers, “Come near to me, please.” And they came near. And he said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years, and there are yet five years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God. He has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt. Come down to me; do not tarry. You shall dwell in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, and your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. There I will provide for you, for there are yet five years of famine to come, so that you and your household, and all that you have, do not come to poverty.’ ” (Genesis 45:4-11, ESV)

Egypt became God’s source of provision for His people, a means of survival in the midst of a famine. Living in Goshen was a result of His sovereign hand. He led (through Joseph’s rise to a powerful position), and they followed.

Yet what once was a place of blessing was now a place of persecution. 

Now there arose a new king over Egypt, who did not know Joseph. And he said to his people, “Behold, the people of Israel are too many and too mighty for us. Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, lest they multiply, and, if war breaks out, they join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” Therefore they set taskmasters over them to afflict them with heavy burdens. They built for Pharaoh store cities, Pithom and Raamses. But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad. And the Egyptians were in dread of the people of Israel. So they ruthlessly made the people of Israel work as slaves and made their lives bitter with hard service, in mortar and brick, and in all kinds of work in the field. In all their work they ruthlessly made them work as slaves. (Exodus 1:8-14, ESV)

I often assume that Egypt was a place of disobedience, and slavery must have been a consequence to something or another. The mention of Egypt often relates to the concept of “sin” in the Bible, and Israel was often in bondage as a result of not trusting God. But their distance from the Promised Land here wasn’t a result of them not following God. God had planned for them to go to Egypt. He blessed that move out of Canaan during Joseph’s season of power. Yet it wasn’t where they were supposed to stay. They were still destined to possess the land of Canaan, and God must wanted them to desire to move on to where He has promised them.

Now, geographically, this doesn’t quite make sense. (These maps were not drawn by me…)

Notice, Jericho and the entrance to the Promised Land looks to be just north of Hebron. Yet God brought his people west to Egypt for a season before taking them southeast and north to return to the land He had chosen for them.

God’s provision for us on the journey to Cru was not necessarily to take us to the destination we believed we were traveling towards. We are still walking through this journey, so I don’t know that I have all of the answers yet, but I can see ways that God used that season for our good. It challenged us in our view of God and what He was capable of. It challenged me in my identity and my willingness to release it all to God for His purposes, not my security. It brought new friendships and deeper conversations with others, which we are still enjoying today. We saw prayers answered in the ways we hoped and in ways we didn’t expect. God was so present during that time, but it wasn’t where we were meant to stay – at least not at this time.

God’s provision in your location right now (literally or metaphorically) is not necessarily your destination. It could be, but more often than not, we find ourselves getting comfortable and settling in just as God is planning a new transition. Our decisions up to that point haven’t necessarily been wrong – I don’t think we were wrong to take a step of faith, join staff with Cru, and start raising support – but it can very easily become wrong when our security and our identity is wrapped up in a self-confidence in our trail instead of a God-confidence no matter what new paths He asks us to follow.

Maybe you will be forced to move out of your situation because of a change in circumstances. Israel no longer found Egypt a place of refuge; it became a place of bondage. Or maybe it will simply be a heart conviction, telling you it’s time to move on.

But in the midst of the pain that eventually seems to come, no matter how great a change is, God is in it. I love how it is expressed at the end of Exodus 2: “And God heard their groaning, and God remember his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel –– and God knew.” (Exodus 2:24-25, ESV)

God sees you, no matter where you are on your journey, and He knows. He is sovereign over our journey and faithful to care for us, even when our rest turns to ruthless oppression, or our provision turns to pressure to make a change. God sees, and God knows.

In case you want to make this more personal for you…

  • Where in your life have you seen a similar story – what seemed like God changing the plans He originally had, or where His provision seemed to turn sour? {key word: seemed}
  • What part of the journey are you on right now?
  • How can you make a habit of taking a perspective above your current circumstances to examine what God could be doing, even if things don’t logistically make sense?
  • What truth about God do you need to cling to as you continue on your current path? What Scripture passage clearly states this?
  • What securities do you need to surrender to allow Him to be your one sufficiency?
Posted on by Samantha Barnes 1

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.

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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)

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“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.

horse and his boy

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.

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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

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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.

IMG_3494

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.

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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.

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