coffee talk: exchanges

"They exchanged the truth of God for a lie..." And you know what? So have I.

• I've exchanged His truth that I'm loved freely for the lie that I need to earn it.
• I've exchanged His truth that He'll provide for the lie that I need to take care of myself.
• I've exchanged His truth that I'm free for the lie that I'm still in chains.
• I've exchanged His truth that He uses broken vessels for the lie that He'll only use me when I dot-dot-dot.
• I've exchanged His truth that I was made in His image for the lie that who I am just isn't enough.

What would you add to the list?

And how do we exchange them back?

i packed hope

I don't remember much of what I was thinking the day I arrived in Africa. I was only 19. But I do recall feeling tired and skudgey from my way-too-long flight. I'd crammed everything I thought I'd need into two suitcases---I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything crucial. I was surprised and disappointed to see who was there to meet my flight. The drive to my new home seemed long, and yet passed all too quickly.

I was nervous. Excited. Scared. Happy. Overwhelmed. All mixed into one.

But mostly I was hopeful. I felt confident I was where God wanted me to be, and I hoped He would somehow use me to make a big difference. I had no clue what that would look like. I didn't even know what I wanted to do; I was just there to serve.

And while I know God was clearly calling me to Africa, I'd be lying if I said it was solely my faith in Him that got me there. I think it was a cocktail of faith, naivety, passion, and foolishness that landed me in Africa that day. And I'm absolutely okay with that.

If I'd known how my life would unfold, would I have still boarded that flight? If I'd known all the trials and heartaches I'd face, would I have still followed in faith? If I'd known how many times I'd have to say goodbye to people I love... if I had any clue how the AIDS pandemic would touch my own life... if I foresaw the droughts, fires, and tight finances... if I really knew how big the responsibility and weight would end up being... would I still have been obedient to His call to "Go"?

I'd like to think I would have. But I honestly don't know. My passion and faith may have easily gotten swallowed up by fear and doubt.

Some times more than others, I am grateful He only gives me enough light for the next step.

new life

Nothing feels as it should today. I'm doing nothing I'd normally do and everything I wouldn't. Home feels far. And everything hurts. But I know this much is true: He is alive.

And while I don't know when the stone will be rolled away to let light stream into my grieving heart, I know it will.

Thank You, Jesus, for new life.

eyes to see and ears to hear

Mary Magdalene was overwhelmed and confused when she discovered the empty tomb. Her bewilderment only compounded her grief, and she collapsed into tears. As she wept, her risen Savior appeared and stood beside her, but she didn't recognize Him. She looked at Him; she even talked to Him. But somehow she didn't realize Who was right in front of her eyes. I do the same thing far too often.

In my ignorance, busyness, and sometimes just the emotions of the moment, I easily miss Jesus when He's standing right in front of me. I simply don't realize it's Him---ever present, ever speaking. My eyes can be so blind that I miss Him in painted sunsets and unforeseen provision. My ears can be so deaf that I miss His voice in familiar Bible passages and the words of a friend.

Mary eventually recognized Him. You know what finally opened her eyes and ears?

"Jesus said to her, 'Mary.'"

He called her by name. His voice---His tender, powerful, matchless voice---uniquely calling her name was enough to make her realize He'd been beside her all along. Her blinders fell off; her ears were opened. She saw. She heard. She knew.

I desire to see the Lord in expected and unexpected places. I want to hear Him in common and uncommon ways. I need Him to open my eyes and unblock my ears.

Jesus, say my name!

kingdoms of men

It shows up four times in a span of only forty verses, so I'm guessing God wants to make sure I don't miss the significance of this statement:

"The Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of men and gives them to anyone He wishes..."

-Daniel 4:17, 25, 32; 5:21

Leadership is always a gift. Always a stewardship. Always temporary. And I'm always accountable.

confessions of an adulteress

I’ve been so unfaithful. He has loved me faithfully, yet I’ve turned my back on Him time and time again.

I’ve chased love when Perfect Love stands before me, holding me in His gaze. I’ve chased joy when it overflows nowhere but His presence. I’ve chased peace when my completeness comes only from Him.

All He’s ever wanted is my heart, and I’ve kept it tightly in my own hands as if I could care for it better.

He is jealous for me, and all I’ve been jealous for is everything I think I’m missing out on.

Even as I’ve pushed Him away, His everlasting arms have never stopped holding me.

He’s been nothing but faithful, despite my faithless heart and wandering ways.

Even amid the adultery of my heart, I hear His tender voice calling. Seek My face. I lift my eyes. I want to see Him, and be seen by Him. Unashamed of my nakedness and brokenness, I want to see and be seen. Know and be known. Understand and be understood. Love and be loved.

Fully.

Freely.

Recklessly.

Relentlessly.

His compassion overwhelms me. His ever-faithful love consumes me. His mercy breaks up the unplowed ground of my heart’s back forty.

I am His.

Always have been; always will be.

He is mine.

And by His grace, my heart will stay more faithful to Him today than it did yesterday.

ht: Hosea

sweet surrender

The other day a dear friend said something to me that just won't leave me alone. It keeps reverberating off the walls of my heart and echoing through the halls of my mind. You see, I've been wrestling with surrender.

I can already hear those of you who will tell me that wrestling with surrender is counterproductive. I get that surrender is about releasing. Letting go. Relinquishing. That's exactly why I'm wrestling with it.

I need to get this right.

Anyway.

Ked's words seemed to get right to the core of the surrender issue for me. In all honesty, I'm simply not there yet to wholeheartedly tell God, "You pick!"

But I'm gonna keep wrestling with surrender until I can.

How about you?

iWrite

My depression seems to have kidnapped my passion.

Right now it feels impossible to dream big or plan ahead. Most of what used to excite me isn't stirring me or making my heart leap anymore. At least not like they used to.

But one passion has remained. It's flickering like a candle near an open window, but it's still there.

I love to write.

Writing helps me process my own thoughts. It's therapeutic. Cathartic. My scribbled notes in my Moleskine, unpolished and unkempt, tell me my heart's still beating. My Gritty thoughts sent out through the cyberwaves remind me I still have something from Him to offer.

Despite the fog that envelops me, I still love to write. And the significance of that isn't lost on me.

Pay attention to dreams that don't die.

I'm trying to pay attention. And keep writing. Even when it's all I'm able to do in a day.

So while I wait for the ransom to be paid on my other passions, I'll guard what He gave me and use it for His glory.

And I'll trust that---somehow---He'll use it for my healing.

something better

When I let go, I closed my eyes tightly---only me and Him.

I held out my clenched fist, slowly opened it, and let it all just slip through my fingers.

I looked at Him and my heart sighed in simple repentance:

I've clung to my sin more than Your grace.

Exposed and uncomfortable, I looked away.

Ever so gently and gentlemanly, I felt His hand slip into mine.

He didn't leave me empty-handed. He just gave me something better to hold on to.

letting go

Sometimes it's easier to feel guilty than forgiven. All-too-often I choose to cling to my mistakes, my shortcomings, my depravity rather than to embrace the forgiveness and freedom that God has for me.

It takes effort to make that exchange, and---honestly?---sometimes I'd just rather not put in the effort. How pathetic is that? Especially since He already did the hard part.

But God's power has no effect in my life if I don't choose to receive it and rely on it. I don't want to nullify His power with my apathy.

I recently spent time letting go of some things I've held against myself for way too long. As hard as forgiveness can be, I find it most difficult to forgive myself.

Sitting alone in a "service" at St. Arbucks Church, I made the choice to let go. To forgive me.

After all, He already did.

And what I hold against myself, I'm ultimately holding against God. I'm basically slapping Him in the face and telling Him that His redemptive work isn't good enough. That I can do a better job atoning for my sin than He can.

Pride can't often see herself in the mirror. But I saw her loud and clear.

So I acknowledged that His work was final---that my sins are not only forgiven but paid for. And I made the decision to step out of the prison I'd locked myself in for so long.

I left a lot of crap in Starbucks that night.

And I got a venti cup of forgiveness to go.

[from a post on this day last year]

time to talk about it

Depression is a sign of weak faith. I don't know that I was ever told those exact words, but growing up, it was certainly conveyed to me that a depressed Christian is a bad Christian. A depressed Christian obviously lacks a strong relationship with God. A depressed Christian just needs to pray more, speak words of faith, and spend more time in the Bible. A depressed Christian gives Jesus---and the Church---a bad name.

That kind of thinking kept me bound in a prison. Forced me to suffer quietly. Because... Well...

I'm depressed. And I have been for a while.

My life is rich in many, many ways. I love God; I've followed Him my whole life; I've served Him passionately on the mission field for over a decade. I have people in my life who love me deeply and whom I love deeply in return.

But I'm also facing the hardest thing I've ever had to endure. And it's left me struggling with depression for almost two years.

Do I have weak faith? Sometimes. (So thankfully all I need is a mustard seed sized dollop of it.) But I know now that my depression isn't a reflection of my faith.

And I'm so sorry for ever thinking anyone else's was a reflection of theirs.

first time for everything

I didn't grow up celebrating Lent. I don't even know if celebrating is the right word to use. Honoring Lent? Observing Lent? Hmph. All of the above. I decided to celebrate/honor/observe Lent this year.

I wrestled with it a bit because I wanted to be sure I chose to do it for the right reasons. I didn't want to do it simply because I'm attending a church that honors Lent. Or because I have friends who do. I wanted to do it with my heart.

To be honest, my initial response when I started contemplating it was to scoff.  I've lost a lot in recent months; I've given up a lot. So when I felt the inner tug to "sacrifice" something for Lent, I raised an eyebrow at God as if to say, "What?! You still want me to give You more?!"

Yeah. Self-righteousness can be blinding.

So I've given something up for forty days. It's not really a big deal. But for me, the significance of this small sacrifice is a huge deal.

And it gives me far better perspective on everything else I've given up as of late.

And it reminds me it's all His anyway.

coffee talk: jesus' family tree

I've got a theology question. Now don't run away because you don't feel qualified to talk theology. I'm not looking for expert advice. I'm looking for honest thoughts. And I know you have those to give me. So I hope you will.

The New Testament starts out with the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew 1.

I've heard that referred to countless times to show the legacy of those in Jesus' ancestry: Abraham's great faith, David's man-after-God's-own-heart-ness, Solomon's wisdom. I've also heard it used to show the unlikely characters that God used in Jesus' family tree, like Rahab the prostitute and Bathsheba the adulterer.

I love all that.

But this is where I get hung up: The genealogy ends with "...Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ."

That's Joseph's family tree. And Joseph, while Jesus' earthly dad, wasn't His biological father. Jesus comes from Mary's bloodline, but not from Joseph's.

So how can Joseph's ancestors be listed as Jesus' family tree?

Any thoughts?

lord, i'm sorry

Lord, I'm sorry for thinking You love me the same way others do. For assuming You'll withhold affection until I've paid penance or until You're "over it".

For imagining that You hold me at arm's length most of the time and invite me in only when You want to want me.

For thinking You see me through eyes of disappointment, seeing only how far I am from all I could be and should be.

For presuming You only love me because You have to and not because You want to.

For guessing You hold my mistakes against me, just as I do with myself.

For acting as though You think I'm discardable and unwantable.

For forgetting that You love me for who I am and not for who I can be.

Lord, I want to believe.

this day last year: bare-handed

The story of creation is an incredible one. For so many reasons. But mostly because it shows me so beautifully the unmatched worth we have in God's eyes. God spoke everything into existence, which is a whole mind-blowing thing right there. "Let there be..." and there was. That is just incredible in a way I can't fully comprehend.

There God was, balancing between time and eternity, forming galaxies, hippos, mountains, and clown fish with His words. But when He created mankind, He used His bare hands. He stooped down to make us great. Words would not suffice.

He wanted us to bear His thumbprint.

"The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life..."

He loved us enough to form us with His own hands. He wanted to hold us, rhythmically massage our hearts to kickstart their first beats, and be the first thing we saw when we opened our eyes. I imagine that our first case of goosebumps came from Him caressing our skin.

And then He breathed into us. Face to face, we inhaled our first breath as He exhaled into our nostrils. I cannot even fathom the worth, the wealth, of that breath of life.

God still wants to get down and dirty with me. When my life is a mess or it feels like I'm wallowing in the mire of my emotions and circumstances, it's easy to think God is far-removed from it all. But He's right here in the dirt next to me. It's nothing new to Him. He's been there, done that.

And more than willing to do it again.

[from an entry originally posted this day last year]

spit it out

A conversation from my last babysitting experience, just a few weeks ago:

::

Little Sister: There's another word I can never say right.

Me: Oh yeah? Which one?

Little Sister: New International Virgin. You know, like the Bible?

Me: [laughing] Mmhmm...

Little Sister: [trying to sound it out] Virgin... Virgin... Virgin... See. I can't say that word.

Slightly Older Sister: That's what Mary was, right?

Me: Umm, yeah. So, whose turn is it on Wii Bowling?

::

What word(s) do you have a hard time saying?

simple truth

God is not absent.Not distracted.

He sees. He knows. He cares.

And He

repost: reflection

We are called to reflect God's glory. Have you ever seen a body of water that's so still and smooth, it looks like glass? I have; it's pristine, beautiful, peaceful. And it perfectly reflects the sky above it and landscape around it, like a mirror.

That's the image I've always had when I think about my life reflecting the glory of God. But the problem is that I rarely feel like a smooth, glassy lake. My life---my heart---is much more tumultuous than that.

And then I realized something: God can miraculously use even the stormy sea of my life to reflect His glory.

He's not waiting for all the conditions to be perfect, for me to be smooth and ripple-free, or for the rhythmic waves of my life to cease. Nope. In fact, He gets even more glory when I reflect Him amid the strong currents and Perfect-Storm waves.

That means being able to pray things like ---

"In the midst of this sorrow and grief, position me to reflect as much of Your glory as possible."

"If You can get glory from my sickness, then go ahead and do it."

"Be glorified in me right in the midst of this situation and not just in my deliverance from it."

I'm working hard to get my heart to a place where I can do that. Where I can pray it, believe it, mean it. This much I know is true: God can leverage anything for His glory if I will surrender it to Him.

[originally posted 6/29/08]

healing

During communion yesterday, I kept repeating over and over and over to myself this simple phrase: By His wounds, even my heart was healed.

coffee talk: more than we can handle?

Did you know the Bible doesn't tell us that God won't give us more than we can handle? It's not in there. I've looked.

It does tell us that He won't let us be tempted beyond what we can bear. There's the promise that in every moment we feel inclined to sin, there is a way out. We need to look for that door and walk through it.

But to me that's a very different promise than the one most people walk around (mis-)quoting.

What do you think? Do you think God won't give us more than we can handle?

(You can catch up on old Coffee Talks here...)