Jesus pt. 8 – He doesn’t do email

John 8:47  He who belongs to God hears what God says.

(For the record I’m sure Jesus can communicate anyway He wants and if I put a call out there, sure as anything, someone will respond that they have heard from Him via their hotmail/yahoo/google account. Just hang with the train of thought please.)

I like email. I like email a lot. I check my account multiple times a day. Why? I like it when people talk to me. And email is a super easy form of communication. I don’t have to get face to face with anyone, I can read it when it fits my schedule, I can respond when and if I want, it is a good excuse to keep my iPhone handy, etc.

Because it is so easy to email, it is a cheap form of communication. One which costs us so little that we rarely try our hardest to spell right, use the best grammar or soften our words as we might when we are face to face. It is not a good medium for serious, heartfelt communication. Things get taken out of context. Writers forget that the readers aren’t inside their heads and don’t have all the background information that they do. Too much of what we want to say comes from body language, tone and the rapport of a shared relationship behind the words. It is why we say “You know…” and assume they actually do. All of this is lost in email. The words “I love you” look so much different in 12 point helvetica as opposed to coming out of the lips of someone you’ve actually kissed . And if you mis-speak or are misunderstood, it is out there for all eternity, for anyone else to read and further take out of context or misunderstand.

Some days I’ve metaphorically wished Jesus would just email me. Some days I’ve prayed, “Jesus, come on. Just. Spit. It. Out. Tell me what you want me to know and make it plain and simple. I check my email regularly. I try to respond rather quickly. If you asked me to, I’d even sign up for Twitter if it would be more convenient.”

I’m coming to realize however, that is a very self-destructive prayer. I’m not praying to really hear Jesus clearly. I’m not asking to know His will for my life. I am not in any way seeking to meaningfully communicate with Him. I’m actually praying that I don’t have to work very hard to hear Him. That I don’t have to engage Him with anything more than my iPhone or Macbook. I am asking Him to conform to my electronics-driven, now-oriented, convenience-centered culture.

When I ask Him to ‘email’ me, I am asking Him for shallowness. I am asking Him for the very thing that has driven me crazy through the years and wounded my heart more than I could ever know. Shallowness is not what my heart really wants.

Jesus doesn’t do ‘email’, He doesn’t do cheap communication, not because He doesn’t want to talk with me, but because He wants to! Because He wants us to really hash things out, to give and take, to go back and forth. He wants us to speak heart to heart, and that does not happen on a keyboard or only when it is convenient. And this sort of thing happens in the middle of my messy, complicated life.

Reflections On Truths Learned This Past Year

The year 2011 broke my life in two, with a distinct before and after. Frankly, I’m just glad to still be here, standing and breathing. There have been days I wasn’t so sure that would happen. And some days the haze of uncertainty and fear lingers. So I wanted to take a moment and reflect, to summarize something of what I’ve learned through it all.

What's that? God calling? I'll take it in here...and I'll probably be a while...

Jesus has been incredibly faithful to lead me to all sorts of places with Him I never would have chosen to go on my own. And ‘grateful’ isn’t even the right word to use to describe how I feel about it. But since it is all I have at this point, it is what I’ll use.

So, in an effort to capture something of my gratitude, here are some of the realizations and truths that have become a part of my soul in this last year:

1. My heart is a bigger mess than I ever thought. As Jesus and I have been walking around its corridors and exploring its depths, what I am finding has been both horrifying and a relief. The depth of my messiness, of my sin and its consequences has been overwhelming at times. But as the chips have fallen, I realize I really do love Him. There have been days when I’ve completely lost my balance, yet I’ve consistently fallen in His direction – and the ground where He stands is solid. So I am a mess. But at least I know now I am more fully His mess. And another thing I’m learning first hand is that redeeming messes is one of His specialties.

2. As big a mess as my heart is, that is what He really wants. That I’ve known this truth, even taught it over the years and still missed it in my own life…I am ashamed. Jesus doesn’t want my works. He doesn’t want my words. (Although of course, at some point and level He expects my works and words.) He first and foremost wants my heart. He wants my love and affection. He wants my life pointed in His direction because that is the direction I want to go, not because I’m afraid of going in the other direction. He wants to renew, restore and rebuild me from the inside out, not teach me to conform to a cultural standard that looks pretty on the outside but is rotten on the inside. Learning to move my spirituality more fully to the realm of the heart has been a huge shift for me this year. A frustrating one because no one sees it but Him and me…and a painful one because it is so much work…but a rewarding one because of how it makes the ground beneath my feet more solid.

3. If all I ever am is His, it is enough. Without realizing it and while simultaneously knowing in my head the opposite is true, I’ve established a pattern of relating to Him through what I do. As innocently as it started and as good as my motives have been at times, I’ve been trying to prove myself to Him, to earn His favor and to subtly keep Him distant by setting up our relationship within a business context. I do this, therefore He does that.  It is taking a season of not working for Him to re-set this truth deep in my heart – that He loves me just for me. Not for what I do or accomplish. My greatest goal and deepest desire is to be His – more fully, more intimately, more deeply. And if that is all I ever accomplish in my life, it is not only ok, it is wonderful.

4. He sets the agenda, I don’t. Yes, I knew this before this year, but I think I can look back and see that functionally, I came to Him wanting to pick and choose how I serve and relate to Him. And He has absolutely refused to play along. He has reasserted His authority in my life to set the agenda of what we talk about, how we relate, the speed with which we move and everything else about my relationship with Him. He has called me to repentance and to a season of learning just to walk alongside Him wherever He goes. To listen. To ask questions. To follow. It has been so refreshing in its restfulness. I make a terrible god. Yet He does it so effortlessly.

Funny how, at one of the high points of my year, a trip to Europe to teach, minister, network and even hike for an afternoon in the Alps, there was a storm brewing in the background.

5. For someone whose life’s work revolves around people, I have terrible people skills. In fact, recently I floated the idea in my heart that I am done with friendship. (Material for a later post) I know that really isn’t an option…and I’m sure I don’t really mean it…and I know how I feel in a few months will be different from how I feel about it now…and I really do have the friends I’ll have for the rest of my life and they are wonderful…and  I know part of what this season is about is me learning to truly make Jesus my best friend (and not the cheesy Sunday School version of this)…but that I’ve so struggled over the years with what should be the most basic of human functions has worried me a bit. And I find it pathetic that I’m as old as I am and still trying to figure how to relate to others well.

6. My internal monologue needs a lot of work. On the positive side, I am learning to embrace my honest, brutally honest, excruciatingly honest internal monologue – and out of it two great things are emerging. First, I am learning quite a bit about myself; where I am wounded, where I am gifted and something of where I will go in the future. And second Jesus and I have had so many amazing faith-confirming and encouraging conversations; where He has actually spoken into my greatest doubts, struggles and pain, where I’ve gotten satisfying answers to those things that have kept me from truly engaging Him with depth. I guess you could say my internal monologue, unhealthy as it is, has actually been a very healthy thing for my spirit this year. It has driven and led me to more of Jesus and greater intimacy with Him. But the thoughts that still just randomly pop into my head…lets just say some days I am concerned about where this stuff comes from. And I hate that so often it is the soundtrack that plays behind much of my life.

7. Jesus is…well, He is more than I ever thought. I thought quite a bit of Him before this year began and He and I certainly weren’t strangers then. Yet…I am continually surprised at the paths He chooses to lead me down. Not linear. Not expected. Glacial and circuitous. Jesus has caused me greater pain than I thought I could endure, yet brought healing I never knew I needed. He has forced me to learn to engage Him on His terms, to repent of deeply ingrained things, to redefine so much of my life…and still…it has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. He has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. And I hope and pray I never get over this…this year that almost killed me. Jesus still has me moving in His direction…and that means there just might be hope for me in 2012 yet.

Thoughts On Hagar – When You Can’t Leave

“Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her.” Gen. 16:6b                                                                                                   

“Then the angel of the Lord told her, “Go back to your mistress and submit to her.” Gen. 16:9

When we face difficult interpersonal conflict often our first response is to flee. Distance can indeed be a remedy for conflict. But sometimes God tells us to stay. To submit ourselves to those who mistreat us. Who definitely do not have our best interests at heart. Sometimes, rather than running away, God tells us to engage in the realm of our greatest fear and frustration. 

I read Hagar’s story and am heartbroken by it. Sarai was barren, so as her maidservant, she was forced into sleeping with Abram in order to get pregnant on her mistress’s behalf. If this doesn’t sound like some kind of dysfunctional soap opera or reality show, I don’t know what does. Even the casual reader can see trouble brewing and brew it does. Hagar does indeed become pregnant and Sarai gets insanely jealous. And very mean. So Hagar bolts.

Self-preservation. Dignity. Pain management. Conflict avoidance. Self-restraint. I’m not sure which of these was at work in Hagar’s heart, but I totally understand why she ran. I’m pretty sure I would have too.

And then God says, “Go back.”

What kind of God asks us to go into trouble? To stay there? To put ourselves at risk? Didn’t He mean to say, “Run away from the situation that is causing you stress and pain because My number one goal for you is your happiness and comfort?”

Things begins to make more sense if you keep reading on. After talking with the angel of the Lord a bit, Hagar is able to say, “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” After seeing God, knowing He is near and has a purpose for her, her perspective changes. She saw things she didn’t beforehand and she is able to face what comes next. She obeys what He asks, even when it isn’t what her natural instincts would tell her to do. Even when it isn’t what she wants to do. She goes back – when what she really wanted to do was fly forward.

Hagar’s external circumstances did not change. In fact, in the coming years they get worse. But after her experience with God, hearing Him speak to her, comfort her, something in her heart shifted.

And God is always after the heart.

God uses pain to shape the heart. Conflict to develop character. Difficult people and situations to drive a deep dependence on God to the innermost parts of our soul. 

I read what God asked of Hagar and honestly, I get a bit uncomfortable. Where will God ask me to stay when  I would much rather bolt? How could the command to “Go back,” play out in my life, when I really don’t want to? How might He use painful relationships in my life to do something bigger than just make me comfortable?

Jesus. Just Jesus

I began a series entitled “Jesus” on the blog a few weeks ago and I publish it every Saturday morning. Honestly, it is some of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Ever. I can’t really speak to the quality of writing, but I know that I love that the place in my heart that generates my words is alive and vital, focused on my Savior. I’ll keep it up until I don’t have anything else to say about Him, which means, maybe not always weekly, but this just might what I write on for the rest of my life. I hope so anyway. And it should have been all along.

As I’ve entered and am moving right on through middle age, how I relate to Him, how I do my spirituality, how I read the Bible, pray and work out my sanctification – it has all been fair game for evaluation. And man, has it needed adjustment! These thoughts were born out of a private (yet not really private since it made it on the blog) re-orientation of my relationship with Him. (Only I can make my faith sound so cold and clinical – which is one of the reasons why I’ve needed this season to process.)

I’ve been a follower of His for a while now. And it has been so easy to fall into a rut. To not give my relationship with Him too much thought. Or to give it too much thought and not enough emotion. To drift and not realize how far I’ve drifted till I am terrifyingly far from where I thought I was. To conform my outward behavior to a cultural norm without letting Him really have access to my heart. To go through the motions. To live out what I believe through the filter of my life’s experience rather than the reality of what God was calling me to. Relationship. Not task.

And in His mercy, He said, “Enough.”

I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the fact that Jesus has loved me. Not what I do. Just me. He doesn’t hover over me waiting to smack me around when I fail. He walks with me, correcting to be sure, but He walks with me affectionately till we get where we are going.

And I could write about what this looks like in my life for the rest of my life.

So on the day we celebrate His birthday, I just wanted to write a bit about how I love Him. Not how I serve Him. Not what I think about Him. Not what I hope He will do in or with my life in the future. Not about what I want from Him.

I just want to write about how I love Him. I do. I can’t help myself either. Even though He has messed me up pretty good, in a beautiful, tragic way. Even though He has broken my heart in a way I wasn’t sure I would recover from. Even though He has demanded more of me than I ever thought I could give. Through it all He has mercifully changed  just about everything in my life, for which I am so unbelievably grateful.

It has been like Jesus has personally said to me, “My friend. My daughter. My beloved. This year, and every year of your life from here on, you get Me. More of Me. Merry Christmas.”

Jesus pt. 7 – Sometimes Following Him Is A Round Trip

Jesus is a puzzling sort. He says “Follow me,” over 20 times in the Gospels. He says in Is. 43:9 “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”

Sometimes we think following Him means new. Onward. Different. (I blogged about this just last week.) Yet sometimes the way forward with Him leads backwards for a season.

Let me illustrate.

No matter how great your dad was, I bet many of you have daddy issues. I know this because no dad is as perfect as our Heavenly Father. And no matter how aware of this we are, we still, at some point or another, view God through our “daddy lenses”. We expect Him to treat us like our dad did. Not in every case, but sometimes…too busy. Emotionally unavailable. Scary. Absent. Trying hard but still coming up short. Selfish. Couldn’t read our minds when we needed him to. We all think God is someone He isn’t based on our experiences, even if we don’t consciously say it with words. And before we can move forward, sometimes we have to learn to resolve some things from our past.

Let’s be honest. Few of us escaped childhood unscathed. Stuff happens. Painful stuff. Sometimes truly traumatic stuff. And we believe all sorts of things as a result.  ”If I had been a better child mom and dad would still be together,” or “Jesus must not love me if He let this happen to me,” or “My problems are bigger than His power. Or His compassion,” or “I should be afraid of Him, if He let this happen.” Or, “What else might be coming down the road for me if this was His opening act in my life?” You get the point. While none of those things are true, many of us functionally live our lives and relate to God as if they were.

And Jesus loves us too much to let this kind of stuff remain unresolved. To let lies like these linger. So sometimes when He says, “Follow me,” we can’t go forward till we go back for a season.

Funny how at Christmastime, where I am celebrating in the hometown I never planned to return to, I’m thinking about this. Why has Jesus led me backwards when all I ever wanted was to follow Him forward? How have I been,  for years, viewing Him through the lens of my life experience instead of who He really is? What do He and I need to talk about regarding the past in order to be free to move forward with Him?

Heart Stuff pt. 8 – Navigating the Unfamiliar

The heart is challenging territory and exploring its depths is a beautiful challenge for those who want Jesus to live there. It is the core of who we are. God created us with hearts, speaks to us through them, longs to make them whole and blesses us with His presence in them. And in certain seasons of life, He invites us to look around and see what lurks and lies hidden (and sometimes not so hidden) there.

Romantics know its terrain well, as do those with gifts of mercy and compassion. Over the years I’ve met some people with such emotional health and warmth – they just know how to love, be loved, relate well, be honest with their feelings, understand something of their motives, confess their sin and still know they are forgiven and wanted by the Savior, etc. I love these people. Would like to be one of them one day too. Sigh.

Intellectuals though, those with less emotional vocabulary and sensitivities have a harder time navigating its depths. These folks are the ones who lean into their heads. They often think spiritual maturity is found in books. In knowledge. I have spent most of my adult life as one of these people. Sigh. We justify and differentiate ourselves from our ‘heart-led’ brethren by saying stupid things like, “Well, I’m not emotional.” (Yeah, right.) Or, “I use my brain more than my heart.” (As if they are mutually exclusive.) Or, “I don’t have the gift of mercy.” (As if that makes it ok to be an insensitive jerk – cause you know, God made me that way.)

So, recognizing my inherent weakness in this area, I’m making this is a topic of great study. (ha ha – intellectually studying the emotional heart…yes, I’m pathetic, I know…) In doing so, I’m learning some interesting things about the process of digging into this vital and life-giving part of my life. Thought I’d share them here in bullet point form.

Navigating The Terrain Of The Heart:

• Brutal honesty is a key navigation tool. There are days I really like to lie to others and myself. Oh, I do it subtly enough. Usually cloak it somehow, under humility, self-effacing humor. Sometimes I prefer to blame others and point fingers, but the result is the same. I am trying to minimize that which I am responsible for and make me look less bad than I actually am. What I’ve found is that I’ve got to be brutally honest about what is going on in my heart. Am I angry? Sad? Disappointed? If I don’t name the emotion properly, no matter how embarrassing or revealing it may be, then what I do with it will almost always be wrong. Which leads me to my next point…
• Find a travel buddy. Just like you should never swim alone, you shouldn’t really go in to the heart for extended periods completely alone. Sometimes looking at heart stuff is like looking at clouds with a friend and trying to find shapes in them. “I see a bunny!” And your travel buddy says, “Are you crazy? That is clearly a John Deere tractor!” The equivalent might be, “I’m angry!” And your friend says, “Are you crazy? You are terrified!” My point is, having another point of view can open your eyes to things you would never see on your own. And back to the first point, it doesn’t do any good if you lie to your travel buddy. We need their honest evaluations.
• Jesus gets to lead the exploration. Unfortunately, I think many folks approach their hearts like they do most other things in their lives: with their agendas, expecting Jesus to join right in and follow their lead. Yeah, about that…Jesus doesn’t follow our lead. And the sooner we drop our expectations, our right to choose our speed, destination, etc. the sooner we actually get somewhere. Sort of like when my 10-year-old sits behind the wheel of our parked car. It is sort of cute and all, but we aren’t going anywhere till he gets in his seat. I know this because I’ve begun digging in to my heart and said something like, “Jesus, lets talk about my anger issues.” And He’s said, “Actually, I want to talk about your idolatry. And until we deal with that, we aren’t going anywhere.” And I have the choice at that moment to get brutally honest with myself and my travel buddy, or lie and stop all forward progress.
• Pack some snacks. I suggest this tongue-in-cheek because the journey to whatever is going on in your heart can be a glacial, circuitous one that can take a long, long time. Well, I guess Jesus shows up in some people’s lives and gets right to the heart of the matter and conforms them to His likeness overnight…but that sure hasn’t been my experience. Instead, the sanctification process in my life tends to move much slower than I like or want. And I’m learning how to slow down and keep up all at the same time.

Jesus pt. 6 – Sometimes Following Him Is A One Way Trip

“Follow me.” Jesus

While living in Germany for several years, I was painfully aware of the fact that I wasn’t German.

Us at the airport in Leipzig in 2008, saying goodbye to more than just our friends.

If the language and culture were not daily reminders for me, then the Germans certainly were. It isn’t that my German friends didn’t genuinely love and value me. I know they did. But one of them let a very revealing Freudian slip pass once that marked me. I forget the context of the conversation, but at some point she said, “Well, you know Deanna, when we (meaning Germans) talk about you…”.

I’m sure the dot dot dots were positive. And I guess I should be flattered that people cared enough to make me a subject of conversation. But all I heard was, “You guys talk about me? When I’m not there?” The meaning was clear. They were German, and when the Germans got together, I wasn’t one of them. I was the American on the outside. I didn’t really belong. Not like the Germans did anyway.

This wasn’t unexpected. Of course in my head I knew I wasn’t German. It’s just that I had made such a tremendous effort and so many sacrifices to try to fit in. It broke my heart to realize the place I’d called home for the last few years wasn’t really home.

Then there was the time we were back in the States over the holidays for the first time in years, sitting in our big-suburban-cookie-cutter church’s Sunday morning extravaganza. And I knew in that moment, in fact, I think my heart even used these words, “This isn’t home anymore”. The styles, the themes, the subjects of conversation. None of it spoke to me. The connecting points were gone and I remember feeling so out-of-place that I wept. My home wasn’t home anymore.

It was quite an “Oh cr@p!” moment for me. Was this what Jesus had asked me to give up as I followed Him overseas? I didn’t belong in Germany – and now I didn’t belong in the states either. Had my following Jesus made me homeless?

I can see now it was one of the unexpected costs of following Jesus. What before had been comfortable, normal and “mine” was no longer so. He had changed me. Changed my heart, the things I like, the things I got emotional about, the things I wanted to talk about, the relationships that anchored me, the very definition of words in my heart like home, success, normal, enough. I wasn’t the same person who had left America with Jesus a few years earlier. I had returned quite different – with more of Jesus and less of me. Not American. Not German. Homeless. And there was no going back.

I am coming to realize that sometimes following Jesus is a “forward-only” proposition. It is a one way trip. I can never again be the person I once was. I can never fully return to the relationships I had.  What used to satisfy or make me happy doesn’t anymore. And it has taken me the last 3 years to figure out something of what this means in my life.

It means that Jesus loves me too much to let me remain unchanged as I followed Him.  He loves me too much to let me return to the “me” I was before He and I started walking together. And we are never going back.

Thoughts On Job – Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

“But he stands alone, and who can oppose him? He does whatever he pleases. He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store. That is why I am terrified before him; when I think of all this, I fear him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me.” Job 23:13-15

Job, I am with you on this. God scares the bejeebies out of me too. 

How to relate to a God who holds all the power, meaning I am utterly helpless before Him? Who is under no obligation to explain Himself or His plans to me? Who has demonstrated that there are times when He chooses not to intervene and allows really, really bad things to happen? Even to those He says He loves? To Job? To me?

Years ago, while driving in the car, we heard our 5-year-old son in the backseat start crying. When we asked him what was wrong he said, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of God. He’s going to eat me.”

Context: we had recently been talking a lot with him about how big God is, about how powerful He is, about how omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent…you get the picture. And my little theologian did the math and figured out that a really really big God like that meant he was really really small. So he was afraid. Very afraid.

Fortunately for us, our 4-year-old daughter was also in the car at the time and she just laughed. “Jeffrey,” she said, “God’s not going to eat you. He’s good.” Out of the mouths of babes.

Yes, we all know God is good. But some days the words of Job and my son speak something very deep and true from my heart – I’m afraid that God is going to eat me. I am afraid of God. There, I said it. 

Not exactly the Sunday School answer you were expecting, huh? In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve got teeth marks in my backside from whole seasons of my life where He’s nibbled and chewed on me pretty good. And there are times when what I feel overpowers what I know…when my circumstances scream contrary things to what my faith whispers… When my God is absolutely terrifying. And my heart is faint within me.

No wonder God says over and over again, “Fear not.” “Do not be afraid.” “Be strong and courageous.” Of course our natural reaction to Him should contain a good dose of healthy fear. Respect. Worship. He’s in charge. We are not. That is the beautiful order of things. I get it.

But the real question, the one I’m wrestling with, is how do I take commands like that – that sound so easy in theory and make for really pretty  songs to sing on Sunday - and let them actually comfort my broken, fearful heart the rest of the week?

How do I learn to love a God who makes me tremble?

What Are We So Afraid Of? (Heart Stuff pt. 7)

“I don’t cry very often.” “I’m not very emotional.” ” I am not the crying type of person.”  ”Even if sometimes I might want to, I still don’t cry.”

I took this photo in Oslo this past summer, at the sight of mourning for the victims of the mass shooting there. We are compelled to express what we feel inside of us.

 

I have heard these thoughts and the related heart cry that undergirds them at least 3 different times within a week of this writing, and many more in recent months, from women ages 19 – 40ish, and in various stages of life. FYI to any guys brave enough to read this blog: I hear this sentiment from women, not men. We are not always these uncontrolled emotional messes who cry at the drop of the hat. More of us than you would ever guess struggle with the healthy expression of pent-up emotion.

Full disclosure – I’ve also been this woman and spoken most of those words at some time or another in some form or another during my adult life.

Where does this aversion to tears come from? What are we so afraid of? And why do we, in some weird, strange way think that crying equals weakness?

Certainly God created us with different temperament types, some more outwardly emotional than others – and He placed each of us in different cultures and periods of history where the accepted expressions of emotion differ. I’m not saying we need to be in puddles of tears, weeping at the slightest thing. (That is another extreme that would indicate something is significantly wrong.)

God didn’t make us Vulcans however. Whether we like it or not, whether we are comfortable with it or not, He created us with emotions, powerful emotions, and He gave us the capacity to express them. They are a wonderful gift when they provide a release of the tension inside of us. They bond us to others at such a deeper level than our intellect allows. More than that, they indicate important things to us about our spiritual health – if we are tuned in to them that is. Joy points to a Creator. Grief points to the life after this one. Love demonstrates God’s fingerprints on our relationships. Sorrow can drive us to a Comforter. Shame indicates that something of the image of God in us has been violated. Our emotions are an intricate part of our design, beautiful and important. When we voluntarily neglect them, surely we break the heart of our emotional God who meant them as a gift.

Why then do so many hate to cry? Some might say it is a control issue – that they aren’t subject to their feelings. They might even take a bit of pride in the fact that they aren’t ‘weak’ like those other emotional folk out there. Some might think that they don’t really need to – that somehow they respond differently to their life experience and manage their pain intellectually, not emotionally.

What I’m finding however is that this isn’t something to be proud of. In fact, it is probably an indication that something is wrong. Very wrong. Because a lack of tears isn’t an indication of a lack of emotion. Oh no! There is almost certainly something going on under the surface. And not always, but sometimes, it is something so significant that the person is afraid to let it out. I’m finding that not crying doesn’t equal emotional strength, but sometimes it is emotional fear. It is an indication that all that emotion inside, that we all have, is bottlenecked and stuck where it doesn’t belong. And unexpressed emotion rots pretty quickly, becoming fertile ground for bitterness, internal lies and relational damage.

So I find myself asking some odd questions, ones I never would have thought my intellectual self would ever ask… “How can I learn to become more emotional, more open to expressing what is actually in my heart, no matter how I try to deny it? That will destroy my heart if I leave it trapped inside? How can I begin exploring some of the dark recesses of my heart, looking for some of the things that need sunshine and fresh air in order to heal properly? How can I, in a healthy way, learn to reflect this part of God’s image in me?”

Jesus, Over The Wreckage – (Jesus, pt. 5)

Europe speaks to me. No where do I find more visual metaphors for the things going on in my heart than on the continent I so love. Honest moment here, I often weep I don’t live there anymore.

During my last visit, I had a morning in Berlin with a chance to see anything I wanted. So I had a friend take me to the Gedächtniskirche, or loosely translated, the memorial church.

The church, as it stands today.

It was built in the late 1800′s, and bombed during WWII. It was not rebuilt as a reminder of the horror of war. The lessons gained and memorialized by the wreckage were too valuable to just cover over with something new. Instead, its ruins testify to its past – and were intentionally incorporated into a new church compound.

I knew as I was visiting that there was something important here for me to see, to learn. I just didn’t know what it was at the time.

This morning, months later, I was meditating on how one’s faith recovers from devastation and from pain. And my eyes were drawn to a photo I have of my morning at this church, stuck to the wall over my desk.

I was taken by the realization that the present day memorial is of Jesus… golden, present, powerful… over it all.

Somehow, He takes the wreckage of our lives – the things that have been bombed, maybe even destroyed with our own hands – and He doesn’t abandon it. He doesn’t cover it over and pretend it isn’t there. He redeems it.

I don’t understand this. But I’m trying to. And I’m trying to let the visual, of Jesus… golden, present, powerful… over my wreckage, speak to something deep in my heart.

He sees it all.

How To Awaken A Heart (Heart Stuff pt. 6)

Why is it that some people seem to go places with God that the rest of us don’t?

Some people seem to know Jesus, love Him, hear Him, enjoy Him, have conformed their hearts and lives to His likeness and talk about Him in a way that is so different from ‘normal’ that we could almost describe them as ‘abnormal’. It is as if their heart has been turned on. Awakened. Spiritually, they are using gears most of us don’t have, painting in colors the rest of us haven’t seen. They don’t chase the same things, make the same choices or walk the same predictable paths of career, marriage, family and stuff acquisition as the rest of our culture. They seem to have a freedom from expectations, from their past, from peer pressure, from the call of conformity, from the fear of whatever and from the things that seem to control most.

In my experience, there is usually a gentleness about them, a grace to their words, a beauty on their face, (even when their face isn’t what the world would define as beautiful) and a contagious calmness in their presence. It is interesting to me how many of the typical measures of spiritual success that we use to rank each other isn’t on that list…

I’ve met a number of these people on the mission field and in various ministry venues. I’ve met some in churches, although they usually seem to be in the minority, somewhere off the beaten path. Maybe that is because the life they are living is so far off the beaten path, they aren’t interested in the same things as those who are beating the path, even the church path.

When I meet these people, I try to get some of their time. To have coffee with them, talk about things and ask them questions about how they got to this deep place with God. And I find my heart awakens a bit. It is almost as if she (and my heart is definitely a she) hears the cry of their heart and says, “Hey, I want to beat like THAT!”

I love university students and those in their early 20′s. I’ve worked with them in some capacity now for over 20 years. And I’m  wondering why it seems the hearts of some young people awaken and the hearts of others sleep on. I know that ultimately God is the one who sets the alarm and tells our hearts to rise and shine, but still. We do have some role to play in this, don’t we? So I’m asking – how can I be a facilitator of those moments and movements of God in the lives of those in my circles?

And if I’m honest, I’m also asking how can I get my own heart out of bed and into the game.

Thoughts On Isaac – What Does It Feel Like To Be Sacrificed?

Gen. 22:6-7 Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and placed it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them went on together,  Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, “Father?” “Yes, my son?” Abraham replied. “The fire and wood are here,” Isaac said, “but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”

Gen. 22:9-10 When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.  Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son.

A Rembrandt sketch of the event. I prefer that it isn't finished. Even the lines scare me.

If you aren’t familiar with this story, it is powerful and I recommend reading it in its entire context in Genesis 22. The short version is that after decades of working in his life, God asks Abraham to take his son Isaac, whom he loves, who is a miraculous answer to prayer and sacrifice him with his own hands. At the last possible minute, with the knife in his hand to murder his boy, an angel of the Lord stops Abraham. Yeah. What to make of this God who asks the unthinkable?

Over the years, I’ve heard many varied explanations about what God was up to and what He was trying to accomplish in Abraham’s life. Honestly, I’m not all that interested in either of those those things. What I’m wrestling with and thinking about right now is a part of the story I’ve heard almost no one explore. I want to know how Isaac felt. Not a neat, sterile theological explanation…but what did it feel like to be sacrificed? By someone you love. And trust. To have someone else’s mission valued above your life. Military kids often know. Missionary and ministry kids often know.

Both Abraham and Isaac had mountaintop experiences. But very, very different ones. While Isaac also experienced God’s deliverance, he first experienced being kept deliberately in the dark about what was about to happen, BEING BOUND BY HIS FATHER, put on the altar and watching his dad raise the knife to slay him. His dad was willing to kill him in order to obey God. I can only imagine the issues that raised in his heart. God-induced terror, God-induced sacrifice. Seems to me like a lot of information about Isaac is missing from the story.

I can guess how I would feel in the situation: used, abused, hurt, like a pawn in some bigger game. I think I would wrestle with feelings of ” God must love my dad more than me.” Or, “God was willing to sacrifice me. Looks like I’m clearly on the B team.” and “No matter what God’s word says, just how valuable can I be? I was sacrificed.” I don’t think there would be time or money enough for all the therapy I would need to emotionally recover.

Did Isaac spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the next time God would set him up? Did he wrestle with questions of his faith and self-worth as a result of being placed on the altar by both God and his dad? Did he have serious trust issues with everyone else he met? Fear issues? Did he ever go for a walk with his dad in the wilderness again? (I don’t think I would.) Did he ever go to worship God in the wilderness again? (I’d hesitate here too. And I’d certainly never go with my kids.) Did the sacrifice time at future worship events forever make him shudder?

I’m realizing that I’ve felt like Isaac at different times in my life. Used. Abused. Hurt. Like a pawn in some bigger God-game. I look back at traumatic, painful life-shaping events in my life and wonder not only where God was in that… but exactly what kind of God is He? Do I really matter so little to Him? Look how He loves other people more than me. Why would I trust Him going forward? Do I really want to get to know Him better if this is how he treated me when I didn’t know Him very well?

Big questions. No lightening yet either. (Selah)

And surprisingly, what I’m learning deep in my heart, in the midst of spiritual angst, is that God is not only present when it appears someone is getting the royal shaft. He is loving in that moment too.

Profound. And so complicated. So incredibly complicated.

I can see why scripture doesn’t record this aspect of the story. Isaac’s point of view on the sacrifice of his life cannot be grasped in a sound bite or even a paragraph. It isn’t for those who like their Christianity in alliterated 3 point sermons and fill in the blank outlines. This is about the messy intersection of where God’s plans and our will collide, where our theology meets our emotion, where our hearts explode with doubt and our heads scramble to put the pieces back together.

Profound. And so complicated. So incredibly complicated.

Jesus pt. 4 – Growing Old With Jesus

Eph. 4:23-24 to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God…

I have been married for over 16 years now, and in the course of that time, my husband has been married to at least 5 different women. Maybe more. Of course, all of them were me, but wow…have I changed over the years! Sometimes when I look back, most of the time, I don’t even recognize myself. Jesus has done such a work in my heart and life, deepening, stretching, healing, growing. I am so grateful that I am not who I was. And that I am not even close to who I will be.

That has meant some challenges for Jeff and I though. With all the change in our personalities, character, desires, etc, we are now having to relearn how to relate to each other. What worked for us as young 20 somethings with lots of energy but not much wisdom doesn’t work for us as 40 somethings, with bigger hearts and brains but (slightly) slower bodies. The things I loved to hear from Jeff then are not the same things I need to hear now. The ways Jeff showed me love in my youth isn’t the same way I receive it now. Our lives are much more complicated. Three kids. More stuff to manage. Shared memories, broken hearts, adventures. Sometimes we can communicate with out words. Sometimes our words carry so much weight and baggage, we need to handle them with extreme caution. We are entering a whole new season in our relationship – and it has required a whole new vocabulary, new communication skills and a whole lot of effort to break out of 20 years worth of relational habits.

We are growing old together and it has been a wonderful experience, learning to love who we are becoming.

I’m experiencing this same dynamic in my relationship with Jesus. I feel like I used to know how to relate to Him. Lots of structure. Disciplined Bible study. Regular attendance at pretty much every Christian event I could pack into my schedule. Journaling. Praying centered around me talking a lot. It totally worked for me as a young woman, new in the faith, not much experience behind me. In fact, I’m really grateful for those years. They planted lots of habits, scripture, spiritual truth, experiences and godly relationships deep within my life. I’m finding however that what worked for me then, doesn’t work for me now. I am not that same young, cluelessly wounded girl who loved Jesus with all her mind, energy and activities, but had no idea how to engage Him with her heart.

To go deeper with Jesus now, to grow old with Him, I’m having to adjust to how I relate to Him. It is a whole new spiritual season for me and I’m having to navigate unfamiliar spiritual territory as I go forward.

Jesus has recognized that because I am different, how He and I talk with each other must change. He has initiated a season where He is showing me whole new sides to His character and identity, things I could never have guessed, things I never would have predicted, things He wants to say to me that I never would have chosen to hear on my own. It’s almost like He’s speaking a different language and there’s a bit of a learning curve involved for me to keep up.

And of course I know He hasn’t changed. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. But sometimes, because previously atrophied areas of my heart are now opening up, because He’s talking with me about deeper topics, because I’m learning whole new rhythms and methods of relating to Him, it feels like my Jesus isn’t the same Jesus I fell in love with so many years ago. He is wilder. Relentless. Wanting not just my head, energy and activities that I so willingly offered in my youth, but my heart as well. Just like in my marriage with Jeff, Jesus and I are growing old together – and making the transition to this new season in our relationship is requiring a bit of a learning curve.

Sometimes Our Feelings Are Our Friends (A) (Heart Stuff pt.6)

I wrote  a previous blog entry in this series entitled  Feelings Aren’t Always Our Friend. It got a good response because I know it spoke to the truth of a common experience – that sometimes our feelings run amok with our lives and lead us to ignore what we know to be true. We’ve all been hijacked before by an uncontrolled thought, an illogical feeling, a mood that we can’t explain but knocks us out of commission. But I also know that sometimes we prefer to deal with our thoughts and ignore our feelings because thoughts can be boxed up so nicely. Emotions however, are messy. And our Western society has branded them as weak and, while not completely irrelevant, definitely something to be dealt with quietly and privately. So I wanted to come back to that idea a bit to clarify – because sometimes our feelings are our friend.

A hypothetical example to flesh this out:

A friend is running late and I get angry. I mean, over the top angry – more than is justified for a 10 minute wait. My first thought might be ‘shame on me’, because I’ve given an emotion… a “bad” emotion, full expression. (If God gave me my emotions, is there really such a thing as a bad one? Let’s come back to that in another post.)  Maybe there is a good reason they are late. Maybe this experience is surfacing impatience and is a call for me to focus on this character flaw. Maybe I need to extend grace just like I would want to receive it if I were the one running late. All these scenarios just might be true. But what if I dig a bit deeper….

What if, in the midst of the whirlwind I slow down and ask Jesus, “Why am I so angry? It is only 10 minutes. This isn’t a big deal.” And what if I realize, “What I’m actually feeling here isn’t impatience but not being valued.” Um, that’s an unexpected turn.

And what if I follow the rabbit trail just a bit more and ask, “What is it about not being valued that has set me off so much?” And what if I realize, “This just confirms how I actually feel about myself. This is pushing on a much bigger bruise that has been hiding just under the surface for a while.”

So I continue on, quieting my soul and asking, “How can I not value myself when Jesus has so clearly valued me. His Word promises me that He values me. ” (See the head/heart conflict between what I know and how I feel?) And what if I realize, “Because I don’t want to run the risk of not being valued, I’m going to try to be super valuable to others.” Or, “Because I don’t want to run the risk of not being valued, I’m going to engineer my life so that I don’t become vulnerable to others.”

Yeah, this just got much more complicated, didn’t it?

Continuing on, searching what my feelings are telling me, asking Jesus to speak to me, I realize that I’m not really angry at my friend for running late. I’m really an idolater who worships control, and my idol just let me down. I couldn’t control something, someone. And my anger has just exposed me as an idolater. I hate it when that happens.

In fact, if I wanted to keep following this trail,I could probably spend quite a bit of time tracing back, looking for the root of why I long for control and why, by extension, I don’t trust God. But by this time my friend just arrived and the line at Starbucks isn’t getting any shorter. And while my feelings are indeed my friend, sometimes it is nice to get a little time apart.

The heart is such complicated terrain. No wonder we prefer dealing with our heads. And no wonder scripture says, “The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but  a man of understanding draws them out.” (Pr. 20:5) And “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9)

In this scenario, my feelings…my anger…what I normally consider a “bad” emotion, just exposed something much bigger than a minor irritation. My feelings just led me to a deep-seated sin that will destroy my relationship with Jesus, and by extension those around me that I love. In this case, my feelings turned out to be a very good friend and a very accurate spiritual indicator of a very significant problem.

It makes me wonder how many of us are ignoring and misusing this wonderful gift by leaning so far into our intellect that we relegate our feelings to the realm of red-headed stepchild? Sometimes our feelings can be a wonderful friend.