Category Archives: Following Jesus

Posted on

Is It Ever Enough?

Ethiopian_girl_1
I can’t remember a time in my adult life that I didn’t worry at least a little about money. Even when I had no car payments and was able to give above and beyond my normal tithe I still worried about not having enough.

Perhaps I got it from my dad, who stock-piled away money in all manner of ways "in case of emergency". And who also led me to feel as a child that I would bankrupt the family by asking for a flute so I could play in the band like one of my friends, or by asking to go to CalArts, a college that still grabs my heart and puts a sting in the pit of my stomach just going to its website to link it here.

That worry grew 10-fold when my parents died.  Who will take care of me now should I get in trouble? Through the last few years I’ve discovered who. God, that’s who. Through my friends like  Wendy, Larry, Joyce, the Rippys, the McManus’s  (both families) my sister Nina, and many others, not to mention new friends here in Nashville — Natalie, Amy and my church, People’s Church — God has proven again and again that He will take care of me no matter what happens.

Money will be tighter now with a car payment. I spent lots of money "accessorizing" my new couch, so that makes things a tad tighter than they might have been. No end table will be bought for a while (and I know just the one when I get enough cash). Time to really live on by my budget; something I’ve not actually done in a long time.

Larry  wrote recently about finding freedom in Christ and how it looks different for each person. What it seems to look like for me, at least right now, is having to trust in Jesus for my financial freedom and security. It’s a hard, hard lesson for this insecure woman to learn.

As I browsed my favorite blogs tonight, catching up on my reading and desperatelyEthiopian_boy
trying to distract myself from my shrinking bank account, I came across this. The Poverty Counter.

Wow. What a wake up call. I’ve seen the world’s poor, some of the poorest anyway, in Ethiopia and in India and even a little in China. Each time I was convinced I’d never be able to be materialistic again. It’s just stuff, after all.

Turns out I was wrong. Materialism is a disease I cannot seem to fully flush from my system. It creeps back in when I’m not paying attention and bites me in the butt at the most unexpected times.

I downloaded the ticker for my laptop. I need to be reminded regularly that there are too many others out there that don’t even have enough to eat. Download the ticker and the screensaver. Let’s remind each other regularly that we are truly blessed. And that God expects us to bless others in return.

A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed. Proverbs 11:25

HT: Randy Elrod

Posted on

It Is Finished

A week after it began, my car search is over. I’m heaving a big sigh of relief.

Yes, I committed myself to a 5-year loan, but my payments are under $300/mo (by $20) and I paid the amount out the door that I wanted. And I got a brand spankin’ new car (23 miles when I drove it off the lot) which will last me for-ever (I drove my last one of these for 10 years). I stood up to the sales people and won. Yippee!

Okay, truthfully, I had a lot of help. My friend Natalie’s husband works in the car sales industry. He called a friend who pulled in a favor from another friend and got me a sahweeeeeet sweet deal.

Everyone listen up. Go see Corey at Crest Honda and buy a car from him. He deserves all the commissions he can get. He’s a good, good man.

Oh, and here’s my new car. Except mine is red, of course!
Honda_civic_ex

Oh, what a wonderful God we have! How great are his riches and wisdom
and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions
and his methods! For who can know what the Lord is thinking? Who knows enough to be his counselor? And who could ever give him so much that he would have to pay it back? For everything comes from him; everything exists by his power and is intended for his glory. To him be glory evermore. Amen.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your
bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your
spiritual act of worship.

Romans 11:33-12:1

Posted on

Are You Real or Am I Talking To Myself?

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Passionofthechrist1_1 Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. — 1 Peter 1:3-9

It was as natural as breathing. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just started talking, so grateful that I wasn’t alone on this journey.

I was driving down to Murfreesboro yesterday to check out a car or two. The lot was closed, but I wanted to see the vehicles anyway. No sales people bugging me is the best way to shop, in my opinion. My friend and co-worker, Natalie, is loaning me her Jeep. Since her husband is out of town for the week, she can drive the Honda and the Jeep would have just sat at their home or at the airport. Instead, I get to put some more miles on it.

I was in the middle of voicing my gratitude at not having to go this journey alone when it hit me, hard. I am alone in this car. No one is here with me. What if… what if God doesn’t really exist? What if all that stuff Pastor Rick spoke of this morning — all the stuff "The Da Vinci Code" says about Jesus, and about Christianity being built on lies — what if its all true? And no one is really here with me, listening to me wax all grateful for their presence? What if the truth is, I’m all alone, period?

It came so hard, so fast, and felt so real I literally felt dizzy. Suddenly the warm, surrounded feeling I had was gone, replaced by cold stark aloneness.

I took a sip of my nearly full Chai Cream frappuccino hoping to buy my mind a little time to process this new reality. But it didn’t bring the satisfaction it usually does. It only made me feel colder. A very unsettling thing in a soft-top Wrangler on a hot day. What the heck was going on?

I thought I was long past the doubting-God thing. He’d made His presence so real and powerful over the last few years. Times when I wanted to die just to shut up the pain in my soul, He was there. Right beside me. Sitting, or kneeling, holding my hand, caressing my face. I knew He was there. I could feel it with every fiber of my being. Even though I couldn’t see Him. I thought I could never doubt His reality again.

Yet here I was. Alone. Talking to… myself? Had He ever existed? Had He ever been there with me? Even with my past experiences to draw on, I had nothing. The overwhelming reality of being Alone in that Jeep, being Alone in my life crashed in on me like a crash of Rhinos at 30 miles an hour. And I was flattened by it like so much brush.

Then I heard a whisper. "What if I’m not real?"

What if God isn’t real? What does that mean for my life? As I thought through this overarching question, and all the other ones rising from deep within me — I didn’t even realize I was listening that closely to what Rick was saying, and yet somehow all I could remember hearing were the questions he said the book raised — I realized I could only come to one conclusion.

If God isn’t real, I’m insane.

I’ve heard voices that aren’t my own. I’ve responded to one of those voices, made life-altering decisions based that voice and made radical choices in who I will become. I’ve based my character and my hopes of becoming more than I am on what this voice says. Most importantly, I’ve started believing who this voice says I am — rather than who my own heart and eyes say I am every time I look in the mirror, observe my behavior or listen to my own thoughts.

If God doesn’t exist, I’m hearing voices. And that means I’m insane and need to be locked up in a padded room with a pretty little white jacket as my main attire.

Speaking this realization into the air didn’t have the effect a happily-ever-after story would have it. I was still Alone.

So I went back over everything again. And I realized something was missing in the first draft of my answer. The Truth is, I could very well be insane.

The Truth is, I choose to believe when my senses fail me. I choose to believe God is real, even though I cannot see Him or touch Him or sometimes even feel Him with my spirit. The Truth is, I choose to believe God is actively, personally, intimately involved in my life. I choose to believe He speaks to me, moves me in the direction that is best for me and ensures the best for me.

The Truth is, all we can truly know is what Is right now. The rest we have to believe. We cannot know our past, because it’s gone and all that’s left is subjective reflection. We cannot know the future, because it hasn’t happened yet and all we have is our imagination. All we can do with the past and the future is believe. Believe what has happened really happened the way we remember — or were told. Believe what will be will really be the way we imagine. But today. The right now of this moment. That, I can know. But only for this moment, then it too passes into the realm of believing.

In that moment yesterday I made a choice. One that I realize now I will have to make time and again. Until I die. I chose to believe. To believe my subjective reflections of the past, believe the stories I’ve been told about God and all that I’ve read in the Bible. I didn’t feel it. I didn’t have an emotional, experiential moment of revelation — which is extremely disconcerting to this very post-modern girl. I crave those emotional experiences, those powerful times of feeling God’s intimate presence! But, alas. None came. Still, I chose to believe.

My mind wandered a bit after making my declaration of belief. I was momentarily distracted by traffic and stupid drivers. Before I realized it, The Voice was back. Not the one that brought doubt, but the One that brought a familiar intimacy. He recommended getting over one lane, as the freeway entrance was coming up and reminded me that the far right lane turned into the on-ramp to 1-24, pointing it out to me as we approached.

And just like that, I was no longer Alone. If I ever truly had been.

In this I greatly rejoice, though now for a little while I may have to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that my faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

Posted on

Say Goodnight, Gracie

Snowy_car
Life through me a curve Tuesday night. But I still managed to hit the ball. Whether it’s a base hit, double, triple or even home run is yet to be determined. But for now I’m just running like heck for home plate.

How’s that for a baseball metaphor? Rolleyes_1

My car’s engine suddenly developed a very baaaad sounding noise as I started it up Tuesday night in the Kroger parking lot after doing my weekly shopping. After staring vainly under the hood for a few moments (what did I think I was going to find? One of those trunk monkeys going crazy on my engine???) I took up an offer for a ride home an older gentleman offered me. I got my groceries put away, called my insurance company, finally getting a chance to use the roadside assistance towing I’ve paid $1/mo for and got my poor baby up to the mechanic I trust in Hillsboro Village.

Yesterday morning they broke the news to me. "It’s dead, Jim."— or in this case, Lu. I promptly got a case of adrenaline-itis. That is, I got a rush of energy that resulted in not only securing a pre-approved loan from my bank, but also in further researching several cars I’ve considered buying for some time, to cleaning my kitchen from top to bottom. Yes, I was a cleaning machine! I was in the process of starting on the bathroom when the adrenaline finally ran out and I crashed on the couch for a couple of hours.

Since then I’m bumming rides from co-workers and my wonderful (have I mentioned lately I looooove living here) landlady/friend, Donna, to get to and from work. And I’m researching cars like mad.

I’m looking at used and new. There are pluses and minuses to every car I’ve looked at, which, I guess, is true with just about everything in life. You get more in one area, but sacrifice something in another in return.

I’m living with a constant state of nervousness. I want with all my heart to make the best choice I can, but no matter which way I go I’m spending money I don’t have. I hate debt. I hate it with a passion. But there are just some things I believe are worth going into debt for. A good, reliable car is one of them.

In spite of the nerves, I’m convinced God protected me and will provide. My car died in the safest of places: a parking lot. Not on the freeway late at night, or in the Appalachians where it would have cost a fortune to tow it anywhere. Not even on city streets full of traffic and tired drivers frustrated at another obstacle between them and home or work.

And while I’m not financially in the "perfect" place I wanted to be at the point I bought a new car —honestly, I’m not sure I’d ever have gotten to that "perfect" place. I have a tendency to move the goal posts on myself— I do have enough to put a good chunk of change on a down payment.

He provided this last car at just the time I needed. It got me all around LA duringPromo79
the most difficult time in my life, took me across the country and then back and forth between South Carolina and Nashville quite a few times. I named him Col. Jack O’Neill, after the character of the same name from the Stargate SG-1 tv series. The O’Neill of the series, played by Ricky Dean Anderson, was a cranky, irascible, but completely lovable "old" man who hated being ordered around, never did as he was told and complained a lot while doing stuff. That was my car. irascible, but completely lovable; obstinate, cranky and old. But I loved him a whole lot. God gave him to me and I never forgot His generosity — nor the generosity of my friends, David and Gina, who so graciously lent the Colonel to me for my first four months back in the States, then sold him to me a couple of months later.

God will provide this time. He already has. I just want to make a choice here that will honor God with the money He’s provided. Please Pray that I do just that.

Say Goodnight, Gracie.
Goodnight Gracie.

Posted on

Being the Beloved

I’m reading an amazing little book right now called "the Life of the Beloved" (see sidebar under "Currently Reading"). You simply must read this book! The first point of the book is that we, yes, WE my dear friends, are the Beloved of God. He calls us His Beloved, in whom He is well pleased. I know. This is something I’ve written about here before. BUT the cool thing is, here’s this reknown writer saying the very same thing that Jesus has been saying to me over and over and over for several years now. It’s feels soooo good to get confirmation from such an outside source that I truly am hearing the voice of my Beloved, and not believing a faery tale.

This truth is written all through the Bible, but so often we fail to read those passages, choosing instead to focus on what we think is required of us to "become" lovely and lovable.

God whispers it to us in the Psalms, in Isaiah, even Jeremiah The Depressing reminds us of God’s words to His people, "I’ve never quit loving you and never will. Expect love, love, and more love!" (Jer 31:3 The Message) He screams it from the highest mountains through Jesus’ death and speaks it to our hearts with every sunset, every thunderstorm, rain drop and cloudless day.

In Ephesians Paul reminds us, "Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son." (Eph 1:4-6)

You and I, my dear friends, we ARE the Beloved of God. He revels in us every moment of every day. He sings our praises and dances with joy at the very thought of us. We bring Him deep and overflowing pleasure He delights in us.

So why do we have such a hard time delighting in ourselves?

Oh, the lies the enemy speaks to our souls! The lies we’ve heard from the moment we came out of the womb — perhaps even earlier — that we are not pretty enough, not good enough, not talented enough, not worthy of such unfailing love.

I believed those lies all my life. They shaped my opinion of myself and molded me into someone I was not meant to be; someone ashamed and unbelieving of my own beauty, my own loveliness.

But freedom has come. I am being untangled more each day from the chains that kept me locked in those lies. God speaks so freely and powerfully, each day. He speaks to me of His love. Each day He dances and sings, "You are my Beloved Daughter. In you I am well pleased! I made you and formed you; I called you by name long before you ever knew you had one. You are Mine. You are My Beloved. And I celebrate you every single moment of every single day."

I want this truth to so invade my soul that it infects every aspect of my life, however small. Think of how that will change how I live! It already is. Slowly, but surely, it is changing how I see everything, react to everything, how I move and breath and respond and live.

We are blessed, my friends. We are so blessed. God, the creator and sustainer of the whole universe, calls us His Beloved. He is pleased with us. No matter where we are right now, or what we have done — or are doing even at this moment. He loves us completely.

Posted on

Play it Safe or Go All Out?

I’m tired. It’s been such a crazy couple of weeks at work. One project has consumed me — my time, my thoughts, even my dreams (bleh).  I just got two more projects today, and I’m still not done with the first one. All are presentations that will be given in the next few weeks.

In addition, God has His own project for me, a form of homework that is even more taxing. I got home tonight just grateful that tomorrow is Friday and I get to sleep in on Saturday (though Sunday morning its back to early morning sound duty… woohoo!)

I’ve been watching my favorite sport, women’s figure skating. It’s kind of anti-climatic since my counselor (or should I start call him my "life coach"?) revealed who won the gold without realizing I didn’t want to know. Grr…. Anyway….

0hb190np450x360_1Sasha Cohen had a rough night. She kept missing her triples in the practices and she missed them again in the long program. She still placed first and got good scores, but it was obvious all Shizuka Arakawa of Japan had to do was skate a clean program and she’d beat Sasha’s scores. So that’s what she did.

And that’s all she did. It was obvious that even though she could do the triples, she20060224p2a00m0na013000p_size6 chose to do doubles in order to keep it clean. She played it safe. And she still won the gold medal. It was a flawless performance. And a beautiful one. She deserves the medal, but the whole thing bothers me.

I guess my problem is that she chose to play it safe, rather than risk the gold in order to go all out, to just attack it full on and suck the marrow out of it. To me, if it were me, it would feel like a rather hollow victory. Because I’d played it safe.

Yeah. Right.

Except I live on the safe side of life. I always have. Oh, I walk on the risky sidewalk. Most of the time. But I’m on the safest side of that sidewalk that I can find. I’m like Shizuka. I’ve done the work, so I deserve the recognition for that. And I skate a clean program. But I don’t take the risks needed to be truly great. I don’t go for the triples and risk "deductions" or even a fall when the doubles will get the points I need to claim the prize.

5021114winterolympicsfigureskatingwomensBut that’s changing. Because I’m changing. That homework God’s got for me? It’s the triple; well, a triple, one of many yet to come. And I’m gonna do it. Even if I fall and fall and fall again; even if I get all bruised up or injured, even if it takes me the rest of my life (and it probably will) to stick the landing, I’m gonna do it. I’d rather attempt the triples, fall and get a silver than stick the easy doubles and take home the gold.

I’m so done playing it safe.

Posted on

What It’s About

It was dark. I remember that much. Beyond that, I can’t recall the specifics of my surroundings. I was driving home from work. Tears were streaming down my face. Broken dreams and losses of things closest to my heart piled up. I felt homeless, helpless and hopeless. That’s when I heard it.

A whisper. Jesus. "This isn’t about you. Its about Me. He doesn’t want us to be this close, this intimate. He wants Me to hurt and grieve over you, over your withdrawal from Me, your distrust of Me, your denial of Me. Its not about what you can or cannot do, or will or won’t do…."

I had been asking God why in the world Satan would care about me now, at this point. I wasn’t a missionary anymore. I wasn’t anything. Except broke. And unemployed. And broken. Very, very broken. All to pieces.

I’d always believed — I think I heard it in Sunday School somewhere — that Satan only attacks when you’re doing what God wants you to do. Its usually said to "comfort" those of us struggling under some sort of "persecution" — or what feels like persecution. Or some struggle we’re going through. Somehow, somewhere, the Church got this idea that it was all about us, all about what we can do for Jesus; and all about what will happen to us when we do.

But that night I saw the Truth. I saw it more clearly than I’d ever seen it before.

"It’s not about you, or what you can or will do." He repeated. "Its about Me. He wants to hurt Me. And he knows he can if he can get to you. If he blind you to the truth of who you are to Me, to My love for you and to My presence with you always. Its about Me. He wants to hurt Me. It’s not about you…."

For the first time in my life those words brought comfort rather than the sting of humiliation.

I’ve hated that phrase since I first heard it. No, not when I read "The Purpose Driven Life". I first heard that phrase when I was a kid (too many years ago to speak of). Every little sister has heard her older sister spew these words with venom, while striking a diva pose at the same time. "Its not about you. The whole universe does not revolve around you, you know."

And I especially came to hate the phrase since coming home, broken and lost, after resigning from the mission field. I felt like a such a failure. And I felt overwhelmed by the loss of my parents, whose deaths were the last straws that brought about my breakdown and resignation, the loss of my home and job — and most of all the loss of my dream. Even more devastating, I’d lost the ability to dream. In all that darkness, God found me and scooped me into His arms. He held me tight and constantly whispered His love and adoration of me. He daily insisted the universe did indeed revolve around me. At least His did.

I had never heard anyone tell me about this kind of love. The kind that just loved. Didn’t expect anything in return. Didn’t belittle, or remind you of your "place at the table" or nag you to stop crying, get up and get back to work. Nor had I ever experienced it. My parents were wonderful people, but they were broken too. And part of their brokenness was revealed in the way they saw love; and in how they expressed love. So you can imagine how shocked and unbelieving I was in God’s constant expressions of His love and of His gregarious actions towards me. A failed missionary — can you get any worse of a failure in the Kingdom?

But He insisted. And persisted. And finally I began to believe. And accept. Even depend on it. The more I tested His wild love, the more it held my weight. So the more weight I put on it. Till eventually I was completely standing on it, and nothing else.

Of course, that’s when I started hearing that blasted phrase everywhere. And from the most frustrating place of all: my own brothers and sisters in Christ.

I know they meant well. They thought what I needed was a good "encouraging" rebuke; the kind that says, "I know you’re hurting but, really, Lu, it’s not about you. Others are hurting too and you should be out there bringing them comfort…" Well meaning. Served with a pinch of truth.

But I didn’t believe the rest of it anymore. I don’t believe "its not about me." It is. God proved that. Over and over. God said it, too. "You are the apple of My eye." "I did this just for you." "Its you that I want. Its you I want, not your deeds (or your money)." So I knew it was about me.

Now here’s God saying, in essence, no its not. Not this time. And in that moment I finally understood what its all about. God is all about me. He’s all about being intimate with me. That’s what real love looks like, being all about the one you love. And that’s why I can forget myself and be all about Him. Because He’s got my back. But Satan, well, he’s all about God. He wants to be me; wants to be in my place, as the apple of God’s eye. But he’s not, and that pisses him off. So he’s all about hurting God, any way he can. And especially the best way he can. Me.
What better way to hurt someone, to cause them immense pain and grief, than to turn the one they adore against them. It’s even better than killing the loved one. Especially in this case. Killing me would just bring me that much closer to God. No, the best way to hurt God is to turn me against Him; to convince me that He doesn’t really love me. Or, better yet, that He’s "testing me" and finding me wanting; that I’ve failed Him and will never be able to get back to where I "should" be; that I’m not doing enough, not trying hard enough, not serving enough…. the lies goes on. And I bought them all.

I wish I could say I don’t anymore, but I still do. I still get caught up in the lies and deceptions and intrigues laid out by the enemy to keep me from being intimate with God. But I’m working on it, and I’m not nearly as blind and gullible as I was before that moment.
In the dark.
Driving home from work.
When God told me, "its not about you…"
And I found comfort in it, not humiliation.
For the first time.

Posted on

Becoming

Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. — Phil 4:13, The Message

Those of us who follow Jesus, who listen intently for His voice and revel in His  presence, whatever path we currently find ourselves on is the path He has called us to for this time.

I’ve experienced God’s pull on my spirit to take another path, so I know from experience He will always make it known to me when its time to switch tracks. Its the trudging down the same rocky and uncertain path that I struggle with. But I’m learning to accept the truth of "trudging"; the path I’m on is the one I’m called to. Paul says in Eph 4, "In light of all this, here’s what I want you to do. While I’m locked up
here, a prisoner for the Master, I want you to get out there and
walk–better yet, run!-on the road God called you to travel. I don’t
want any of you sitting around on your hands. I don’t want anyone
strolling off, down some path that goes nowhere. And
mark that you do this with humility and discipline–not in fits and
starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each other in acts of
love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences."

So often I’ve sat on my hands, or gone down paths that ultimately go nowhere and had to backtrack. I admit, I’m a fits-and-starts kinda girl. Yet, God was faithful even through all that to teach me and grow me, transform me, to look a little more like the woman He created me to be.

There are things I’m learning about myself, patterns of thought and behavior that I developed in childhood, as an instinct of survival, that now hold me back from becoming all I can be. So many times I want to hide from what I see. So many times I do choose to hide, to fill my head with noise so I can’t hear the soul-cries.

I have so much work to do. So much. I can see the person I want to become, but there is so much space to cross between me and that woman. I don’t want to waste any more time, yet I fight a lethargy stronger than I’ve ever known. I’m more tired, drained and unmotivated than I have ever been in my life.

Growing up in Christ has often in my mind been something that, by nature, involved a lot of condemnation, angst and… drama. I was convinced if I didn’t feel the sting of rebuke from God or other believers than I wasn’t really letting God into my dark spaces, my hiding places. What I’ve experienced of God in the last few years, however, has completely destroyed and reconstructed my view of who God is; of how He deals with us. The God I’ve experienced has been so gentle and soft, so tender and yet so strong in a protective, sheltering way. Even correction comes with such grace, tenderness and celebration of who I am, of who I am meant to be. I’ve never experience correction this way before. Never.

Yet I still wait for the hammer of condemnation and the sting of rebuke to fall upon me. I spend so many nights running from Him in fear.

I want to stop running. I want to stop fearing what will never come. I just don’t believe anymore that that’s who God is.

You would think that wanting would be enough. After all, I am the one in control of myself, am I not? But we humans are so much more complicated than that. And so is life. Wanting to isn’t enough when dealing with life long habits and fears birthed and fed in childhood, and catered to in adulthood.

So here I stand once again, realizing that I cannot do what I want to without help.

God help me.  God help me Become.

Posted on

Faith

I’m sitting in the dark. Nothing but the light of my laptop illuminating the room. And the occasional flash of distance headlights. Snow is lightly falling outside my window. Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of a flake or two as light dances in their crystalline bodies.

Do I trust God to provide? Do I really trust him to come through when I need it?

I dance around this issue every day, living on auto pilot, self-medicating with food and TV, filling my mind with mindless stuff to drown out the cries of my soul.

The raw truth is there are things I want. There’s a way I want to live, a standard which I decided long ago is what I "deserve", or at the very least desire. But daily I am reminded that in a flash of light, in the blink of an eye all of it could be easily wiped out, taken from me never to be attained again. Never to be mine ever.

This is the vision my soul claims is my rightful provision from God.

But the Spirit in me whispers that nothing could be further from the truth. It is the Reality Check within that wars with my soul, my humanity-spirit, that wars with itself longing both for the physical and the spiritual. The material and the ethereal.

I know in my head that God never promised to provide me with a great place to live and a cool car, a cool job and a bright American-dream future. But I just can’t seem to ever transfer it to my heart. My soul cries out for… something to fulfill it and my heart hands it a ready-made American Dream package, complete with Honda hybrid, home ownership of my own log cabin on lots of acreage and a solid, secure-till-death employment deal.

Faced with the realities of the Abundant Life I know I will be lucky indeed if I ever grasp hold of one of those things. The whole package? Well, it’s called the American Dream for a reason.

Is this the lie that Satan uses to trap me in my own mire of fear and regret? I think it is. And its effective. Very effective.

Tonight I flew right into the heart of his spiderweb of lies. A documentary program on rising poverty in America caught my attention and soon I was stuck and the more I struggled, the stickier the lies, and more stuck, I became. I am such a product of post WWII American greed. I want so much. Oh, I want so much! And I don’t want to have to work for it. I think I deserve a good living and a good car and a good home of my own. I think I deserve a cheap education and inexpensive health care and retirement benefits at 65.

And if I’m not going to get them, then I don’t want to live.
That’s my own version of a spiritual tantrum.

What a spoiled child I am.

If its true that I have been put here to bless others, to just be who God made me and shine out the God-reflection in me so everyone around me can see Him, can get a different sort of glimpse of who He is… then what does it matter what I have or don’t have? When it comes down to it, what does it matter, really?

The real question isn’t, do I believe God will provide? The real question is: will it be enough for me? Will I choose to be content whatever is taken from me and however God chooses to provide my needs? Will I pay the price it costs to follow, or will I choose to fly into the web of lies day after day after day?

Posted on

Walking Backward into the Future

I once asked Alex why it was that all the (at that time) recent events of my life seemed to consume me so. Why was it that all I could see was the pain and devastation? Why couldn’t I see the hope of a future? Why couldn’t I look past all this junk and see, even glimpse, what lies ahead — or even what God has done in the past?

Alex asked me to, without looking behind me, describe as best I could what was there. We were standing on a street in Chinatown, waiting for a table to clear in one of our favorite restaurants there. The crowd inside was thick. The room to wait in was small. So we waited on the street. I knew there were cars parked along the street and I was pretty sure there were parking meters, a street with traffic…. I knew there was more but I couldn’t give details. Then he asked me to describe what was around me, in front of me. That I could do in great detail.

Then he said what had just recently happened fills my vision because it is nearest me, like Lucas and Erica and Niza were at that moment. What God had done in my life before was harder to see because current events clouded my view. And the future, well, he said that was behind me. I cannot see it because I haven’t passed it yet. "We all walk backwards into the future," he said. That’s why we see the present so well, remember the past so well, but don’t have but an idea of what the future holds. It’s because the future is behind us.

I look at my past, my days gone by in Los Angeles, and its so easy to romanticize it; to remember it better than it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and roses. There were fights with friends, and sometimes month-long silences. There was the ever-present constant struggle to give myself away. That struggle hasn’t changed since I’ve been gone. There were fruitless job searches, unfulfilling jobs, the never-ending search for a career.

I do miss my home. But I also know I can’t go back. Not yet. Not now. I don’t know if ever. God has something new he’s doing. Something new for me to be involved in. Something only I can do the way he wants it done. Something my specific gifts and strengths and skills are perfect for; mine and no one else’s. This is where I belong now.

People often ask if I miss LA, and I have to say of course I do. But how do I communicate to them that as much as LA captured my heart, Nashville is doing the same? Both are so different, no comparison can be made. I would miss Nashville if I left, and I miss LA as long as I’m here.

All I know to do is to keep pressing forward, walking backward into the future. I can’t see what’s next for me, though I have a few ideas — and a lot of dreams of my own. I can only see what’s in my life right now and what I have left behind. Its like forever sitting in the back of a pickup watching the world that just went by. Frustrating, but exhilarating nonetheless. I’m on the road, the wind in my hair and the… actually, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes… well, perhaps this isn’t the greatest analogy… you get the idea. I’m moving into the future. That’s what matters most, right?

Not that I have already
obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to
take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers,
I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I
do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. — Phil 3:12-14