epically epoch

Nothing sounds more contradictory than a black-tie missions gala.

But Epoch 2011 pulled it off masterfully.

I was honored to attend their inaugural event in Atlanta, and while I don't know what I was picturing, what they delivered far blew away any expectations I may have had.

The night was spectacular in every way. I'm not just talking about the historic Fox Theater, the classy meal, the engaging presenters, or the elegance of the entire evening. Although every element from start to finish was artful and captivating.

The most amazing part for me was the undercurrent of genuine humility.

I don't say something like that lightly. So hear me out.

The event was hosted by Adventures in Missions, an incredible organization that itself lives on financial support. And yet they made the evening about everyone but themselves.

They found sponsors, invited donors, and distributed grants to support-based organizations, even when they very much need (and would make good use of) those same resources. Seth Barnes, the founder and director of Adventures, said grace before the meal, but other than that, he chose to not be front and center. At all.

This wasn't about him. This wasn't about Adventures.

This was about serving and honoring their co-laborers around the world.

The ballroom was filled with over 400 people on all sides of missions work: from those who live full-time on the field to Kingdom-minded individuals who make a significant impact through their financial support.

The majority of us felt very out of place in our evening gowns and tuxedos, and yet... felt oddly at home with each other. Because underneath the heels and bowties, our hearts beat the same.

I spent an evening surrounded by those who have given of themselves more than anyone could possibly fathom. And yet it wasn't flaunted. The Gala wasn't showy or ostentatious. It was beautiful, yes. Classy, absolutely. But genuine, because of the genuine hearts present.

That "great cloud of witnesses" the author of Hebrews talked about? I was surrounded by the pre-Heaven version.

The faith, sacrifice, perseverance, and blood-sweat-and-tears labor that filled that room was nothing short of astounding. Nations have been changed -- and will continue to be changed -- by that roomful of humble misfits in evening attire.

It was a night like none other.

And I already can't wait for next year.

That is... if I get invited back after my shenanigans in the photo booth. My true self came out in typical fashion, despite my red dress and uncomfortably high heels. My friend Tracee and I are still laughing at these ridiculous pictures!

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In honor of Epoch, Cross & Crown is offering a HUGE discount on design projects between now and 11/15 >

Where have you seen genuine humility recently?

God is good

I was raised to believe that blessings and healing and victory belong to those who believe. Which is a wonderful thought. But the flipside of that belief is that failure, sickness, and lack are signs of not believing enough. So while I was taught to instinctively respond to "God is good" with "All the time", it was understood that God's goodness is only reflected in the goodness of our own lives.

It's not in the pain or the difficulty or the challenges. For those, clearly, are signs of a wayward heart... a faltering faith... an unexposed sin.

Basically anything but blessing, success, and victory boiled down to me not being enough.

Not praying enough. Not believing enough. Not claiming the victory enough. Not speaking words of faith enough.

It was drilled into me that difficult and painful circumstances were never God's will for me. And if I found myself in the midst of them, then obviously I needed to change/fix/do something to get back in right-standing with God, so that things would turn around.

I think back now and I wonder how I processed all the stories I read in the Bible.

You know, stories like Stephen being killed because of his faith. And Joseph's decades of wrongful imprisonment. There's also Paul's beatings, jail sentences, and never-abating thorn in the flesh. John the Baptist, Jesus' own cousin, had his head chopped off. And let's not even talk about Job...

I don't know what I did with those stories that clearly flew in the face of the you-will-always-walk-in-blessings-if-you-have-enough-faith breed of Christianity I embraced.

Because the truth of the matter is this: There are a good many things in life that I simply can't believe my way out of.

The rain falls on the just and the unjust. Bad things happen to God-fearing people. Life isn't fair. And life is harder than anyone ever tells you it's gonna be.

A faith that only acknowledges the goodness of God when things are going great, isn't faith at all. It's nothing but a sandcastle mirage...

Faith is believing that God is good even when my life is anything but.

Faith is believing that God is good even when my world is caving in.

Even when the sickness isn't healed... When the pain gets worse instead of better... When my husband leaves me... When I lose everything...

Faith is looking at my world that's spiraling out of control and choosing to believe that the God of the universe is still in control.

God is good. And God is sovereign. And faith is believing both those truths at the same time.

Life is hard. This we all know.

But, still... God is sovereign, and God is good.

All the time.

No matter what.

Originally posted atDeeper Story. Read the comments there >

believe

Someone believed in me. And it gave me the courage to believe in myself. To put myself out there. To try something. To risk.

And that? That is a priceless gift.

Believe big in someone.

And make sure they know it. Down deep.

Help them see what you see in them, because they most likely can't see it themselves.

You never know what a difference it will make.

He reaps where He didn't sow

As I live in the tension of the shrug, one of the things I've wrestled with in the past few years is the promises of protection and provision in the Bible.

Because God-fearing Christians are still sick and injured and quite often left-without. So I just don't get it...

I mean... Why do we pray for the angels to have charge over us, when accidents still happen to angel-surrounded Believers all the time? I don't know. And I'm not trying to start a theological debate here... just voicing my questions. Or rather my lack of answers.

I've wondered about the whole "no weapon formed against you shall prosper" thing. Because I've had a lot of weapons formed against me. And a lot of weapons have succeeded.

I've endured literal fires, floods, droughts, breakdowns, tornadoes, infidelity, divorce, and the closure of our ministry... So I've wrestled with what it means that these weapons formed against me won't prosper, because they sure have seemed to...

The past few days as I've been pondering all this again, I had this thought:

Maybe it's not that the weapons formed against me won't succeed in hindering or destroying me... but that even if they do, they still won't bear fruit.

The weapons may stop me or thwart what I'm doing or even slay me, but that doesn't mean they will bear fruit in my life. Because God -- as only He can do -- reaches in and creates beauty from ashes, new life from death, joy from mourning.

God reaps even what He doesn't plant. No matter what, He ultimately reaps a harvest for my good and His glory even from the weapons formed against me.

Remember the parable of the talents? Towards the end of that jam-packed short story, the servant who had been given one talent -- and did nothing with it -- got angry at the Master, accusing him of "harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed." And the Master agreed.

Because that's exactly what He does.

God reaps where He didn't sow, and He gathers where He didn't scatter seed.

He can take a crop of thorns, and harvest a crop of wheat.

He can take all of our pain, and still harvest abundant joy out of it.

He reaps everything good from a planting of everything bad.

"Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest." Psalm 126:5-6

God never wastes a thing.

Not even the weapons that succeed against us.

the tension of the shrug

I've gotta be honest: I've got more questions than answers.

I grew up in a Christianity that didn't allow me to admit that. So for years I "had" all kinds of answers. But underneath them all was a shaky voice and a doubting heart and a lot of unverbalized questions...

And now?

Now I'm just allowing myself to embrace my questions more than I used to.

It's frustrating -- and maddening even, at times -- because I wish I had answers. I crave sureties.

But building a faith on pretend answers is no better than acknowledging I have none at all.

It's like trusting in sandcastles that disappear in the surf...

My only surety -- my only certainty -- is Christ.

And for everything else in between, it's okay if I have to shrug and say "I don't know."

It's hard to live in the tension of that shrug, but that's where I find myself. And though it seems to go against everything within me, I know that just has to be okay.

I'm thankful for a God who meets me in the question marks.

For He alone is the only true and definitive answer.

Period.

How hard is it for you to not have all the answers?