Often when I read through the story of Samson’s life (found in its entirety in Judges 13-16), I find myself thinking, “Why in the world would God use such a selfish and lustful  man to perform such mighty deeds?” Then that thought is quickly followed by relief that God did use him, because it leaves room for hope for people like me.

It seems it was not until the end of his life that Samson actually began to “get it.” Only after he became a prisoner – completely stripped of his strength, humbled without his eyesight, and relying on someone else to guide him in his steps – did he call to the Lord in prayer. And even then, his prayer seems somewhat selfish. Kind of reminds me of… well, me. If there were not reference to Samson in Hebrews 11:32, I might question if he really had much faith in God at all. A question that, again, causes me to note a striking resemblance to myself.

Regardless of the motives of Samson’s heart, God answered his prayer by granting him the greatest victory of his lifetime. Yet this victory came at a price. It cost Samson his life.

Living victoriously comes at the price of dying.

And perhaps that, my friend, is what true victory is really about. Surrendering ourselves so completely into the Father’s care that it is as if we have died… so that we can live.

Lost so fully within the desires of God that we begin to find ourselves in His will in ways that we have never before experienced.

Trading our finite dreams, our pride, our way of doing things, our wants and wishes for something bigger. Something beyond this temporal world.

Something eternal.

Gaining great victory means that we must be willing to forfeit everything. Giving every last bit of our life for the sake of the Cross.

In the words of the song One Life to Lose by Laura Story, we may find ourselves coming face to face with this tug-of-war between living and dying to ourselves:

I’m torn again, between my pride, my old friend
And who You’ve called me to be.
I’ve sworn again, to lay it down, to bring an end
To this life lived for me.
For I’ve one life to lose, one chance to find
A newer, better me, the old one left behind.
For there’s one Lord who leads, though steep the cost.
I have learned when I am lost,
It’s there that I am found.

As frustrating and arrogant as Samson seemed throughout the majority of his life, I can’t help but think I might have liked the man he became in the end. A broken soul who realized his need for a Savior. A man lost, but found.

In this story, I am reminded that there is only One Lord who leads. And though the cost of following Him may be steep, it is so worth it.

For I have learned when I am lost, it’s there that I am found…

This is the note I woke up to find in my inbox this morning. No details of the situation were included. Just a request for God’s intervention.

Just an SOS from a hurting friend.

Please pray for me… I need it.

Prayer is needed.

For broken hearts. For lives rushing headlong toward situations that seem they can only turn out badly. For children who are neglected. Marriages that are unstable. Lives crushed from the weight of so many unanswered questions. Hearts heavy from too much hurt.

And in the midst of my prayers for a friend who is hurting, I was reminded of a simple truth:

When it hurts, run to God.

And so I did.

And I am.

And I will continue to do so.

For my friend.

For myself.

For all the unknown trials and burdens that are yours to endure in this moment of living.

When it hurts, run to God.

Then stay there until the burden is lifted.

Until God’s peace intersects with the point of your brokenness.

Until you sense the presence of a Savior who has borne each of your trials upon His own shoulders.

Until you rest in the care of the One who can carry it all.

When it hurts, run to God.

Allow nothing to keep you from the Keeper of your soul.

Run past the doubts.

Push through the obstacles that block the way to His presence.

Run with faith, believing that God is with you in your journey.

No matter how long the road may seem.

No matter the number of doubts that tempt you to cease trusting.

No matter how much it hurts.

Run until you reach His throne and find His grace when you need it most.

“So let us come boldly to the throne of  our gracious God. There we will receive His mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.” ~ Hebrews 4:16



Perhaps what they are really longing for in a gathering of Christians is not so much a particular sound as it is a Presence. A Presence that manifests Himself in unconditional love and transformed lives. Could it be that the real thing missing in the lives of many of today’s Christians is not so much the absence of a particular style of worship or rituals, as much as it is an authenticity toward living a LIFEstyle consistent with the Gospel?

You don’t have to look further than most Christian families in America to see that our influence over the culture is becoming absorbed by the culture itself. The statistics themselves attest to the alarmingly high rates of divorce and infidelity among believers. Work ethics of Christians are not proportionally higher than anyone else’s. Our busy lives are just as full of extracurricular activities that pull us away from each other. And our morality is slipping day by day as we tolerate behaviors without truth.

Perhaps saddest of all, our power to overcome the frustrations of life seems just as diminished as that of the regular Joe next door.

Where is the abundant life of which Jesus was talking?

Where is the sacrificial living?

Where is the Christian who will go the second mile when he has only been asked to walk one?

Where is the power that is supposed to make all things new?



I believe that what people are looking for is not so much a return to the “old” ways as it is to finding a real relationship with lasting impact. Now, I’m not trying to set up a legal list of dos and don’ts concerning Kingdom living. (Obviously that did not work out for the scribes and pharisees, so why not learn from their mistakes?) Nor am I suggesting you live aloof from others for fear of being corrupted by a sinful nature. In fact, I believe quite the opposite to be true – it’s time to get messy for Jesus.

All throughout Scripture, you will find Jesus hanging out with “sinful” people, those who were considered the “unworthy” ones, the “outcasts,” the “less-than-desirables.” But Jesus didn’t party with folks to no avail. He impacted lives by His presence.

He lived in a way that drew others to Himself — in a style that the disciples were called to emulate. In a style that we are called to emulate. A style that changes lives.

But this type of living takes devotion. 

It takes intentional choices.



It requires a removal of self and an invitation to let Jesus come in without stipulations or restraints.

It takes a purposefulness in choosing God’s way over our own so that He may increase in us in startling ways.

Ways that are different than simply listening to a pipe organ pound out hymns of praise.

Ways that challenge us to rise up and pound the love out of life even as we offer ourselves to be poured out for others.



Real Christianity is an offering.

It’s placing ourselves at another’s disposal, even at the cost of our own inconvenience.

It’s loving enough to risk being hurt.

It’s living open-handedly enough that we are assured of being taken advantage of, yet living beyond caring that we are.



Real life in Jesus is dwelling in a state of continual metamorphosis.

Allowing the old life to be overcome.

Changed.

Transformed.

Made new.

Bit by bit.

It’s choosing to clothe ourselves with the garments of praise as we put on the characteristics of Christ.

One thought at a time.

In a way that is noticeable.



It’s a journey that will take a lifetime of REAL living with REAL people in REAL circumstances that stretch us beyond ourselves and our own power time and again as we rely upon a REAL SAVIOR…

All the way to eternity.

]]> http://merewhispers.wordpress.com/2013/03/11/rippled-pages-rippled-lives-the-sequel/ Mon, 11 Mar 2013 12:06:13 +0000 Barbara http://merewhispers.wordpress.com/2013/03/11/rippled-pages-rippled-lives-the-sequel/ As I attempted to turn my focus to another topic, the Lord kept pulling me back to the stormy seas. There’s something more here, I thought. There’s something else God wants me to see. And so I sat with open Bible  before me as I poured over the words of Mark 4:35-41 yet again.

Following a day filled with stories of scattered seeds and lamps under baskets, this troupe of disciples set sail from shore with a tired Teacher. Settled into the stern of the boat, Jesus entrusted His friends to navigate the Sea of Galilee while He rested. For awhile, all was well — until the tides turned, quite literally.

Then Jesus found Himself suddenly awakened by the desperate cries of, “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?” During this moment, I can’t help but wonder if Jesus’ thoughts fast-forwarded to the Cross in His future. Or perhaps they rewound to a celestial conversation with His Father as they finalized the plans for His earthly birth in a remote desert stable. Do I not care that you are perishing? He may have pondered. My children, it’s the very reason I’m here with you now.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

When the storms of life hit us with terrifying force, it’s hard to remember the Truth. It’s hard to rest secure when what we thought to be a solid foundation seems as if it’s rolling beneath our feet. All too quickly, we cave into despair and allow ourselves to be engulfed with the chaos of our present stormy circumstances. Until Jesus reminds us of His presence.

…Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still.’ And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

The disciples were fearfully amazed at the power poured out on their behalf as they watched the wind and the sea succumb to His command.

With access to “the rest of the story” as written in the Gospels, I can’t help but think of how seemingly insignificant a thing it was for Jesus to silence this storm. After all, the other occasion when “He arose” displayed the glory of His power in a wave of events that turned the tide of eternity — forever. When the stone was rolled away, revealing an empty tomb of the Conqueror of sin and death, we have no doubt.

Do You not care that we are perishing? seems like a silly question, indeed.

And yet, I find myself so easily drawn into its web. Some days it seems as if there is no escape. Some days I forget that this earth is not my home. Some days I, like the disciples, fail to realize that a capsized boat on the sea can do nothing more than catapult me into the gates of eternity — an eternity that has been purposefully and lovingly prepared for me. Purchased by the blood of the One who so completely and utterly DOES care for me. The One who sacrificed all for me to keep me from perishing.

Some days we’re tempted to cling to this world too tightly.  Some days we’re coaxed to doubt that our Savior is present in our present storms. Some days we wonder why He seems to be waiting so interminably long to intervene in our trials. Some days we simply forget.

We forget that God is not slow in keeping His promises. We forget He has much bigger eternal plans in mind than these earthly eyes can possibly see. We forget that it is His desire that none perish but that all would come to repentance. Some days we forget this world is nothing more than a whisper of our lives and these present storms are not our eternal lot.

Some days we simply need to remember the One whose voice speaks across the waters, silencing the wind and waves. More importantly, we need to remember the One whose power overcomes not only the grave but our own weak faith. No matter how small that faith may seem at any given moment.

He’s got this, you know.

Most of all, He’s got you.

And He’s not about to let you perish. 

Although this account in Mark 4:36-41 is one with which I am very familiar, I have somehow managed to give little thought to a very short statement contained within these verses: Leaving the crowd, they took Him along with them in the boat, just as He was… (v. 36, emphasis mine)

The disciples took Jesus just as He was, only to find that “as He was” was not necessarily as they had hoped He would be. When the winds began to howl, gathering the waves of the sea and crashing them against the rapidly-filling boat, these seasoned fisherman found themselves terrified in the face of a storm.

But He (Jesus) was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And they awoke Him and said to Him, ‘Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?’

Contrary to the disciples’ assumptions, Jesus was not unaware of the storm; He was just more fully aware of God’s power over it. While His physical body may have required sleep, His spirit was still attuned to God, and by all appearances, completely at rest in Him, too. Not so with the disciples.

How easily I can relate. When all I see and hear and feel are the effects of the storm, it’s hard to take Jesus as He is.

It’s hard to come to terms with a Savior who sleeps during tempests. It’s hard not to question the depths of His care for me when He appears so unconcerned. “For crying out loud, I am perishing here, Lord! Don’t You care? How is it that You remain so oblivious to my crisis?”

Funny how we so readily take Jesus just as He is — until the boat begins to rock. Until our circumstances take an abrupt turn for the worse. Then suddenly we find ourselves fearful. Suddenly we find we are no longer able to stand by and trust the way Jesus is responding or seemingly not responding to our needs.

The disciples were content to take Jesus sleeping peacefully in the stern of the boat — until their own capabilities proved incapable of handling the situation. Isn’t it amazing how we can move to the point where we believe we are the ones keeping our own boats afloat? During the calms, we become self-reliant, content to let Jesus sleep while we turn our backs toward Him and handle life on our own. Until our boats begin to rock precariously. Until the floods of life start dumping upon us, threatening to destroy all we hold dear.

Then we join our voices with that of the disciples in crying out, “Lord, do You not care?”

Do You “not care”?

The absolute absurdity of that statement encompasses just how completely the disciples had been overpowered by their fears. Why not scream, “Lord, save us!”, “Help!”, “Stop this storm!”, etc.?

But instead, they awoke Him with a question. And not just any question, but an accusatory one: Teacher, do You not care…?

And that is the crux of our struggle. It’s not so much our lack in believing God is capable of calming the storm. It’s the question of whether or not He truly cares for us.

Think of all the disciples had experienced with Jesus — He had cast out demons, astonished scribes and pharisees with His authority to teach God’s Word, healed multitudes of people, stretched out His hands to touch unclean lepers, raised a paralytic to his feet, dined with tax collectors and sinners, fulfilled the laws of God with love, and shared the Kingdom of heaven as He moved with compassion among the people… Yet they still asked, Do You not care…?

All too often, we find ourselves in the same boat with the disciples. No longer willing to take Jesus as He is, we call into question all we have known and experienced of Him in the past. Capitulated to our fears, we threaten to release the truth in the face of our present circumstances when we would do well to simply climb into the stern with our Savior and lay our head against His breast.

If you are facing a present storm, I encourage you to remember the One who is in the stern of your boat. More importantly, remember that You have given Him entrance into your life just as He is. So instead of panicking at the sign of your rapidly-filling boat, grab a pillow and head to the back where Jesus is calmly in control. Then lay your head to rest against the One whose very word controls the heartbeat of the universe as you snuggle into His presence until this disaster has passed.

Fear not, dear one. He cares for you.

As I read the above words penned by Angela Thomas, they resonated deeply within my heart. For as much as I wish I were courageous, I’m not nearly as bold as I would like to be. As much as I desire to run headlong into the battle with sword at the ready, the truth is I allow any number of things to make me hesitate. Things like insecurities, fears, distractions, labels, interruptions, responsibilities, expectations, deception, duty, disobedience, excuses, lack of self-control, the common, the ordinary, and the overall feeling of somehow being less than.

Less than what I would like to be.

Less than the courageous daughter whom God calls me to be.

And as I lean into the lies, the chains slip silently into place, subtly wrapping about my wrists and ankles until I am held captive and immobile in the face of fear. Caught in the very web Satan has woven about me with words that make me question the truth.

Because living brave begins with Truth.

Interestingly enough, according to the Bible, the truth is that bravery is not an option.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid nor be dismayed for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9, emphasis mine)

Perhaps courage is not an option simply because God knows that without it, we would fail to implement any other spiritual practices. It takes courage to be in the world yet not assimilated to it. It takes courage to love your enemies and to pray for the very ones who persecute you. It takes courage to fear not. It takes courage to love one another at all times. It takes courage to walk away from the known and familiar and venture into a new way.

Make no mistake about it, a life of faith is not for the faint of heart. Nor is it for those who think they stand in their own strength. For God calls us to rise up and be strong in good courage. And if there is such a thing as good courage, that makes me wonder if there is not such a thing as bad courage.

The longer I thought on it, the more I became convinced that not all men of courage are men of good courage. Some run toward danger because they care not for life, while men of good courage run toward danger to preserve life. Their love overcomes their fear as they rise to the challenge again and again, battle after battle, because they believe love is worth the risk. This is the goodness of courage at its finest.

This is the goodness of courage that comes from being strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. This is the courage that it takes to believe God will overcome every obstacle in my life and raise me to walk boldly before the throne of grace because of HIS goodness, and not at all because of my own.

Good courage begins and ends with truth.

And if I believe that a person who follows hard after God can become brave, then I must believe that I can be that person. I must believe that His Spirit will turn the tide of deceptive words meant for my demise into a wave of victorious truth, freeing me to walk in courage as He wills. And as I believe, I step into truth. A truth that exchanges those lies – word by word – and allows God to rename me. Bold. Intrepid. Daring. Dauntless. Valiant. Fearless. Noble. Confident. Steadfast. Resolute. Secure. Adventurous. Overcomer. Courageous.

Brave.

Brave enough to turn the “I want to” into an “I will.”

Brave enough to be free.

Brave enough to be fully me in Christ.

Brave enough to live this day in good courage – with sword held at the ready.

Seriously, are there any words more frustrating when you are needing assistance than those offensive words of, “Please hold”? While I have been placed “on hold” several times throughout the years, I do believe my run-in yesterday tops the list for longest-phone-hold-to-date. It literally took me more than 4 1/2 straight hours before the issue was resolved and the coveted airline tickets were purchased with a savings voucher my husband earned a few weeks back when he volunteered to take a flight bump. (I now understand why folks are so hesitant to surrender their seats. It’s not the inconvenience of the delayed flight so much as it is the frustration of later trying to redeem the “special deal” you were promised.)

The only thing more frustrating than being placed on hold while on the telephone is when that same scenario plays itself out in life. Things are going along just fine; you’re comfortable in your job; settled in your ministry; family life is a daily routine of activities and events. Then suddenly, for no obvious reason, things change. Life is interrupted with a “holding pattern,” and much like a plane caught in the currents of an unexpected storm, you are left “circling” above the runway. Holding… holding… and holding for the next break in the storm so you can comfortably land and go back to life as usual. And perhaps that is the very reason God likes to shake us up with a “hold.” He doesn’t want for us to become too comfortable in this life.

Becoming too comfortable in this life means we may have lost sight of the life that is to come. Becoming too comfortable in ministry may suggest we are precariously close to forgetting that it is God who ministers through us, and not we ourselves. Becoming too comfortable with our family routine may indicate that we are taking each other for granted. So God steps in to shake things up by placing our comfortable life “on hold.” Suddenly, what made perfect sense to us just yesterday no longer seems as clear. The ministry that was previously so fulfilling no longer seems to offer the same sense of satisfaction as it once did. In short, God pulls us to the sidelines and asks for us to wait on Him to do something “other.”

And while a needed rest is always refreshing, an enforced nap can be quite unsettling. Or at least disappointing. No one wants to be banished to the sidelines when the game is being played on the field. After all, where’s the productivity in that? And once again, we find our focus has honed in on producing in attempts to attain a soul satisfaction that is found only in being with the Master. While it is unsettling to be unsettled, sometimes it is exactly what our Father knows we need. For in the “holding,” we take the time to look at things with greater clarity. We pause to more closely observe the people and happenings around us than when we are caught up in a blur of activity.

If you are finding your life “on hold” at the moment, I encourage you to stop fighting against it. Stop attempting to fill the void with activity. Stop sitting on the edge of your seat anxiously tapping your foot in anticipation of putting down the landing gears. Simply stop. Instead, I urge you to do as my friendly airline representative encouraged me while I was waiting on his computer to process my request: “Place your phone on speaker mode and go make a cup of coffee to enjoy while I work through this.”

Don’t try to rush the process, simply allow God to work through this.

All those plans He has in store for you? They are on the way. But until they arrive, enjoy the rest. Right now, that is the plan. Because when it’s your turn to get into the game again, you’ll need to hit the ground running for all you’re worth. In the meantime, hang tight with your heavenly coach and allow Him to pilot your course. You’re in for an awesome destination… it’s guaranteed.

Enough of the science lesson. For literary and theatrical purposes, I must admit that the term “dark side” seems to be highly effective (From what I hear, Darth Vader has cookies there). And while I’ve yet to encounter Darth Vader or the proffered cookies, I have been tempted to mistake the “far side” for the “dark side” a time or two. And today, it is those thoughts that I am pondering.

Sometimes, I daresay, we all feel as if the “far side” is the “dark side” as we are confronted with too many questions. Questions like:
If all is lit, then why is not all light?
Why are so many things seemingly hidden from my line of vision?
Why am I constantly straining to see the 41% when the 59% is always before me?
Why the continual grasping for something other?
Why the perpetual looking for something beyond?
Why all this effort to hold something held at bay?

In short, why do I believe that if I cannot see the light, then the light must be absent?

It has been scientifically proven that my inability to see the far side of the moon does not reduce the amount of light to which it is exposed. Likewise, my perception of God’s love cannot diminish or increase His love. Love simply exists, because God is.

God is.

God is love.

God is light.

In the turning of circumstances, His light is present. No matter how quickly things appear to be spinning out of control, nothing can dissolve the rays of constant glowing. No revolution can diminish the brightness of His light. Nothing I do or do not do can lessen the reach of my Father. Sin cannot shorten His hand’s extension. My failings cannot rattle His plan of salvation. My faults never tip the scales… except to shift the weight of mercy in my direction.

All is light to the Light of the World.

God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. (1 John 1:5)

Take heart, my friend. No matter your current line of vision, in God’s domain there is no dark side. There is no far side. There’s only light.

God is near.

Encompassing.

Filling.

Completing.

Within reach.

Within you.

Within me.

And all He is, is all we need

Because…

Movement. A word that seems fitting to me in so many ways. I am a mover. I do not sit still well. Nor do I move slowly. My sister-in-law frequently teases that my “walking” pace is a “running” pace for the average person. And while it is true that I tend to walk fast, all too often, I allow this trait to spill over into my spiritual life. When God is calling me to “be still,” my feet are itching to move. Even when I am not in motion. That’s why the words from this quote of Steven James so quickly caught my attention. (See, I even notice quotes “quickly.”)

While I can force myself to refrain from movement, it is much more difficult for me to curb my thoughts from desiring to move. Especially when it is so obvious that things need to be done… and especially when I am administrative by nature and a planner at heart. Even when my body is not in motion, my brain is constantly devising ways to more efficiently accomplish those ever-present responsibilities.

But I’m slowly learning (apparently learning is the one thing I do in slow fashion) that there is a freedom that comes in approaching God with empty hands and an empty agenda. And I’m discovering a treasure in the stillness that cannot be found among all the busy distractions of life.

All too often, I desire to reduce my relationship with God to a series of check marks on a list. I want to keep things neat, tidy, and orderly. Unfortunately, attempting to treat the things of God systematically can be problematic. The number one problem being that God refuses to follow my list. What makes complete sense in my natural mind is foolishness to Him. And yet, the very things that appear absurd to my rational way of thinking are, more often than not, the very ways that God chooses to work. Repeatedly. Hence, when there is something to be done, He calls me to be still. Seriously, what’s up with that?

Could it be that productivity is not God’s main concern regarding me? And here I always thought that if I increased my productivity I would be of more value to God. That I would somehow experience His approval if I could only organize more conferences, attend more Bible studies, host more seminars, read more books, write more articles, go on more mission trips… well, you get the idea.

Amazingly enough, it has come to my attention that doing more things (including things that one might call “ministry”) does not achieve the Father’s approval. Even if it makes me feel fulfilled. In reality, too much activity actually takes away from living an abundant life because my focus is all on producing rather than on abiding.

Overachieving in service to God is not the same as being in communion with Him. Psalm 37 encourages me to delight myself “in the Lord”  not to delight myself “in service to the Lord.” A point worth pondering.

Likewise, John 15:4 states,  Abide in Me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me.

We’ve been duped by the world’s way of thinking that productivity leads to promotion. In God’s kingdom, productivity is not the means to becoming close to Jesus, it is the result of being with Him. There is a reason fruit is referred to as “produce.” It is what comes from the act of abiding. Production follows communion; it does not lead the way. In fact, Jesus warns that no good fruit is produced apart from Him. All that striving? All those labors without His intervention? Guess what they are yielding? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

In our desire for movement to produce results, we end up missing out on the treasure of simply being with Jesus. We hasten to produce an underdeveloped fruit and are left with a product that is small, unripe, and inedible. On the flipside, when we are  content to remain with Christ – tarrying, waiting, abiding, moving only when He moves – the fruit is produced without extra effort as it comes alongside the relationship that He is having with us. This abiding is what produces a mature fruit that is large, ripe, and sweet to the soul.

Trying to rush the production of Kingdom service is not only tasteless, it is lifeless. Getting caught in the snares of distractions and too much activity leads to a discontent life and one that gives way to a heart much like that described in Psalm 143:4 – Therefore, my spirit is overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is distressed.

If you are feeling a bit overwhelmed or stressed out, perhaps your agenda is too full. Perhaps, like me, you need to be done with your list of “things to do” (insert audible Gasp!) while you take a break and learn a lesson in abiding.

Busyness can lead to brokenness, but not in the sense of a brokenness that leads to holiness. If left unattended, our too-full lives will consume us, crowding out any time for communion with the very One who can soothe our spirits and calm our hearts. And that is not the will of God for any of His children.

Don’t buy into the lie of busyness. God doesn’t need you to “do more” for His Kingdom. Remember? Apart from Him you can do nothing.

But with Him – great things happen. And those great things begin in you.

Consider this your invitation to stillness.

While this thought implies a good directive, without the final three words, I can’t help but think that we are missing the fullness of its true exhortation. And perhaps, along with the missing words, we are missing out on the only way to fully live the suggested actions. The remainder of verse 6:8 reads: with your God. And I find it’s those last three words that “pack the punch.”

With your God.

It’s presence that makes a relationship.

God seems to get that. In fact, it’s the very reason that Jesus was sent to earth. Born of an unwed, virgin teenager, He came to the lowliest of men so that every person, from every station in life, would have opportunity to have a relationship with Him.

In Matthew 1:23, Jesus was fittingly christened Immanuel – which means, God with us. Divine nature uniting with human nature. Salvation come to earth at the mere mercy of God alone through the precious gift of His Son. Redemption found through the blood of a cross. Intimate relationship offered through the rending of the temple’s veil at the fingertips of the Almighty.

No wonder God longs for us to walk with Him in justice, mercy, and humility. His love poured out on Calvary’s hill to fulfill the law and deliver us from slavery, once and for all. No more need for sacrificial offerings of the blood of rams and bulls. It’s the offering of our hearts that He desires most.

The gift of our presence offered back to the Giver of Life.

Contrary to what some of us live as if we believe, the action God requires of us is not the paying a price for the pardon of sin, but the gift of love itself. And this gift is not even something we are asked to give of our own power and might, but a gift that naturally emits from having a relationship with our Savior. It is a love that is produced as we walk with God. We can only live lives filled with justice, mercy, and humble thanksgiving when we have fully acknowledged the redemption extended to us – by choosing to take God at His word and by inviting Him to become our God.

John 1:14 tells us that the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. Jesus the Christ  – Immanuel – God with man – God in man – united with us by the power of His Holy Spirit – in the preaching of His Word – through the healing of His hands – by the promised and living Savior in our midst. Immanuel – the most holy and intimate fellowship between God and man imaginable.

As we walk the course of our lives, let’s not forget to include those final three words of Micah 6:8. Act justly… with your God. Love mercy… with your God. And walk humbly… with your God.

This Christmas, may we wrap our hearts around the truth of Immanuel and offer back the gift of our presence in return. This year, let’s not only celebrate the gift of God with us but invite Him to celebrate the gift of us with God.

May your hearts be overwhelmed by the gift of our Savior’s love.
Merry Christmas!

Another interesting thing about this happening is that right before my friend’s son pulled out of the lot, his father warned him about the propensity of this particular vehicle to “handle in rain like other vehicles handle on ice.” The father’s warnings were listened to halfheartedly as the son interrupted the warnings with an exasperated, I know, Dad. I know.

Unfortunately, his knowing and his reacting to what he supposedly “knew” were on two different levels. Later, when he was describing the accident to his dad, he actually (and most likely, unthinkingly) restated his father’s warnings when he declared, “It was like the car was on ice!”

The father couldn’t help but point out that this was precisely what he had been attempting to warn his son about in the first place. But because the son was only half-listening, the warning went unheeded. Instead of taking his father’s advice into account, the son failed to maintain proper assured clear distance from the vehicle slowing in front of him as his new car slid out of control on a wet road.

The whole scenario reminds me of how quickly my own life careens out of control when I fail to heed my heavenly Father’s warnings. Thinking that I already “know” the risks involved, like an excited teenager, I halfheartedly listen to the counsel of the One who has only my good in mind. Instead of granting God my full attention, I listen with half an ear while my thoughts are already revving the engine of my new sports car and pulling out of the lot. Not once do I stop to consider that I could be among the statistics of a spiritual accident in the making.

After all, warnings are meant for careless people. Signs are posted for those who do not know the way.  I know the commandments. I know that I’m called to love… warned to practice patience… to think on things that are pure and honorable… advised to flee even the very appearance of evil… I  know, Dad. I know.

And God watches me pull away, knowing full-well that I have no intention of following His advice. By not listening, I am proving that it is only a matter of time before the unthinkable happens. Only a matter of miles before I will slide into temptation. Only a few more moments before I surrender my rights to the kingdom and fall into the first trap that is laid to ensnare me.

Could it be that 1 Corinthians 10:12 was placed in the Bible expressly for people like me?
Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.

All too often, I forget that my enemy is very real. I neglect to remember that Satan hates those whom the Father loves. That nothing brings him greater pleasure than setting me up for an accident even as he seeks to steal, to kill, and to destroy all that God deems as precious. Instead of contemplating the warnings to proceed with caution, I gun it through the yellow light as I speed to experience the fullness of a life that, much too quickly, becomes a blur. A life that, in the blink of an eye, slips out of control like a Ford Mustang on slick roads.

Thankfully, my Father God provides the very best form of insurance known to man. And even when my life seems to be a totaled wreck, He is able to repair and restore all the broken pieces. For God’s policy begins and ends with grace.

Grace to continue to speak warnings to a heart that is, more often than not, anything but attentive. Grace to hand me the keys to a kingdom far more valuable than any automobile. Grace that covers me against the liability of hell. Grace to entrust me with His love, knowing all along that I will sometimes fling it into the gutters of life. Grace to reach out, time after time, and come to my rescue.

Because, despite His warnings to “live carefully,” my Father knows that I will most likely become involved in an accident in the near future.

Thankfully, His grace will still be there to offer the way of escape… again.

How comforted my heart was when it stumbled upon those words earlier today. Especially when this week has been one filled with phone calls and emails bearing discouraging news on so many fronts. Relationships being stretched to their limits, precious saints being persecuted by very real threats and dangers, trying circumstances causing frustrations and fears to rear their ugly heads. Doubts rising in attempt to thwart any vestige of hope. Yet in the midst of it all, God is.

And that is truly the key. The hope.

God is.

Regardless of what circumstances might lead us to believe, life is not out of control. It is firmly held within the Father’s care. He is very much aware of everything concerning you and me. And while we may be tempted to believe that He must surely have been caught off guard by the current situations glaring at us with such hatred and intimidation, God is not surprised. Not in the least. He is fully aware. Of. It. All.

Those people we love who are suffering, God is there with them. Loving them in ways we cannot see. Moving behind the scenes, shifting kings and kingdoms to do His bidding.

That daunting situation that appears to have no end in sight, God is already there at the finish line with arms outstretched in victory.

Those temptations that seem to suck us in time and time again, God is powerful enough to overcome them. And gracious enough to forgive us when we fail.

Those relationships that cause us so much frustration, God is intervening beneath the surface, wooing and drawing hearts continually.

In each and every situation, one variable is constant: God is.

The simplicity of hope found in that statement is truly profound. So profound that it seems too simple. And so we interrupt the measures of grace, adding a complexity to life that we were never intended to live. Instead of steadily breathing in the trust that God invites, we hyperventilate, overdosing on worldly wisdom in attempt to try and make sense of the divine with our limited capacities. Grasping for reasons, we let loose of faith and slip further into despair.

The truth is, we will not always understand why things happen the way they do. But we will always have opportunity to believe.

God is good, my friends.
God is aware.
God is in control.
God simply IS.

And He has gifted us with the ability to trust that  for those who belong to Him, it all turns out well.

Several weeks ago, I read a fictional series about David’s’ mighty men. These books contained the above line that became a plea voiced heavenward by David’s warriors as they entered into battle. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the shepherd boy turned king, you can read about much of his story throughout the chapters of I and II Samuel, I Kings, and I Chronicles. Although anointed by God as the true king of Israel, it was many years before David took his rightful place on the throne. Instead, he lived his early years as a fugitive – running for his life, hiding out in caves, facing battle after battle against a residing king who refused to give up his position, even though it was obvious he had already lost it (in more ways than one). It was during this stint as a fugitive that God brought David’s “mighty men” into his life. Only they weren’t always referred to as such.

And everyone who was in distress, everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was discontented gathered to him (David). So he became captain over them. (I Samuel 22:2)

From this motley crew of misfits, David’s mighty men emerged.

I can’t help but compare myself and many of my fellow brothers and sisters as a part of this present-day motley crew following after their true King. There’s no doubt that many of us sided with Jesus in the midst of our own distress, need, and overall discontent with the life we were living. But sometimes it seems much more difficult to picture any of us emerging as “mighty men.”

Today, I was reminded that there are still mighty men of valor out there in the thick of the battle, holding ground in the Kingdom of God. And these men are not just strangers; they are friends, brothers, sons, and even my own sweet husband. That’s right, my husband pulled a radical stunt this past week that moved him and two other grown men to tears as he rose up to partner in another man’s battle. Just like the mighty men of David’s time who fought side by side, covering each other in the day of war, even as they were themselves covered by the Lord of Hosts.

Just this morning, my son shared with me of a Christian friend who recently stood his ground in an Indian village filled with idol worship. When the friend was commanded to worship the village idols, he refused. Shortly thereafter, three of the village cows fell over dead. A short while later, the idol of the village’s primary deity mysteriously disappeared from its temple. The village priest directed the man to leave the village before “other bad things happened.” I couldn’t help but compare this act of God with the Old Testament story of the statue of Dagon falling before the ark of the covenant (see I Samuel 5), only this time God apparently chose to simply make the idol disappear. All because a mighty man stood firm in the day of battle.

Another friend shared with me about persecution that has been on the rise in his African country as churches are being attacked and its members beaten and killed. They continue to meet together, regardless. Mighty men, joining in their grief to continue honoring the One who is worthy of all worship.

Another country is home to one of my adopted sons who is literally a marked man. Ostracized and considered “dead” by his own family members at the tender age of 17;  his birth mother was even approached and asked to help carry out an assassination plot against him. He bears scars on his body from beatings he has received and imprisonments he has endured… simply because he has chosen to embrace the cross of Jesus. While imprisoned, he overcame his despair and shared the Gospel with his cellmates. A mighty man, covered in the day of war and vocal about his love for Jesus despite the persecution.

I could continue to list beloved believers who are emerging as the King’s mighty men in our day, but the real reason for this post is not merely to share information but to pose the question: Who are you?

Are you still among the disgruntled and discontent, or are you emerging as one of the King’s mighty men?

Determined to do something radical to show God’s love to a brother in need. Determined to stand when others bow. Determined to worship when others scatter. Determined to speak when men of violence are attempting to silence you. Determined to lay your own desires aside in exchange for the desires of your King’s heart.

Regardless of your age, gender, or nationality, my prayer is that you will rally under the banner of the Lord of Hosts and give room for the rightful King to take His throne in your life. May you find yourself emerging as a “mighty man,” even as you trust in the One who covers you in the day of war.

Out of curiosity, I looked up the definition for the word according to an online dictionary site and came away with the following take. A few of the definitions for camouflage included:

* To conceal by the use of disguise or by protective coloring or garments that blend in with the surrounding environment;
* An outward semblance that misrepresents the true nature of something;
*An outward or token appearance or form that is deliberately misleading;
*A covering that serves to conceal or shelter something;
*The act of concealing the identity of something by modifying its appearance;
*And my personal favorite – the reference that the British navy used during World War I: dazzle-painting

I can’t help but wonder how many of us choose camouflage as our own favorite color, or at least live as if it is. For reasons sometimes unknown even to us, it tends to be the hue we think flatters us the most, and thus, we fill our spiritual closets with apparel that disguises who we really are. We wrap ourselves in a covering that is misleading, in hopes that we will remain protected and sheltered from hurt. We spend hours “dazzle-painting” our identity so as to stay below the radar of rejection. But no matter how much we try and modify our outward appearance, beneath it all, we remain the same.

Regardless of how intricate the weave, how carefully crafted the outward disguise, it cannot change the true nature of who we are. And that’s what hurts. Because no matter how much we buy into the lie that camouflage is the perfect shade for us, deep down, we know that it’s not. Because it never reveals the “real you.” It simply masks the truth.

The truth is, you would  look much better in a soft shade of blue or a flattering, creamy yellow – but it’s so hard to find. After all, camouflage is “all the rage” and lines aisle after aisle of choice. You’d really have to go against the flow and be brave enough to attempt a new fashion trend if you wanted to wear what suits you best.

And so, we settle for being what everyone else is, what everyone expects us to be… and we lose ourselves a little more each day.

But what if we decided to drop all pretense? To ditch the disguises? If we came clean with ourselves and chose to embrace who we really are – with all our flaws and wrinkles? What if we allowed ourselves to take that fashion risk and donned that creamy yellow blouse? What if we dared to live differently from others? Set apart from the masses. Seeking that which is above. Honest about our shortcomings. Genuine with our love. Transparent about our motives.

Because, underneath all that dazzle-painting, God knows the truth. And so do we.

The next time you’re tempted to hide yourself, go ahead and do so. But this time, ditch the dazzle-painting in exchange for Colossians 3:2-3:
Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.

The truth is, camouflage is NOT your best color. But the love of Jesus fits you perfectly. Why not try it on and allow it to transform you from the inside-out.

Jesus extends invitation after invitation to those whom we might prefer be excluded. It’s His way, you know. He called a hated tax collector to write His memoirs. An uneducated,  foot-in-mouth fisherman was one of His best buds. A pharisee and persecutor of His followers became one of the most effective missionaries of all time. You might be more familiar with their identities as Matthew, Peter, and Paul. The point is, Jesus looks beyond the exterior and the present, in order to see the inner man renewed in His love and fulfilling His purposes. And He wants us to have that same vision.

What would it be like to look at every person we see each day? To really look at them, Christian or non-Christian, and not just give them a passing glance, but to see them and marvel at the image of God they were created to portray. To realize that each person was birthed with a blessing to impart upon this world. To believe in the potential placed within each and every precious soul. And to prompt each one to fulfill the purpose that they have been issued. But instead, we hurry through our days with our eyes shut tight, seemingly oblivious to the mass of humanity bleeding around us. If we do slow down enough to look, it is all too often with eyes that are suspicious and skeptical.

Is it any wonder that Christians are deemed as critical and judgmental? You need look no further than the next facebook post to read a condemning remark or a digging barb. And I can’t help but think that those who judge us as judgmental have issued a just decree. Sometimes the hatred with which Christians attempt to share God’s love appalls me… and embarrasses me. Christian “truth” touted as “tough love” seems no less depraved to me than an Islamic devotion to suicide bombing for the sake of making a statement.

What would happen, instead, if we saw the “lost” (those without the love of Christ in their lives) as truly “lost”? Not just as depraved or barbaric. But as utterly separated and lost from the One whom their soul was created to find. To love. What if we looked beyond the wounds they inflicted and instead saw the wounds they bore? The wounds driven deep, induced by the lies of the most criminal of foes.

What if we felt their sense of loneliness? Their shame. The utter hopelessness that resides in a life lived separated from the God of love and grace. What would happen if we embraced the blackness of despair that has been sown into their souls? If we would hold high the light of God’s love and walk toward them instead of fleeing in fear or attacking in judgment, deeming them as somehow unworthy of exposure to the Light.

I challenge you to join me in asking yourself: What if I acted differently from the rest? What if I embraced others with the grace that their Father intended? With the same grace that was spilled upon my life so freely? The grace that was priceless beyond measure, yet poured out in extravagance as bounty for my soul. What if I remembered my own salvation? If I recalled that I was once just as lost as those who still walk in darkness?

What would happen if I truly responded to others with the love of Jesus? Would it change what they have done, who they are, who they have become?

Or would it simply change me?

As I read the above line in a random book of poetry, the warmth of its truth nestled into my heart. I am so thankful to rest in a keeping that is not my own. To trust in a Strength that far exceeds the restricting confines of mere human power. To know I have a Father who embraces both the terrible and the beautiful things in my life.

Although I am not promised an easy and carefree path, I am promised God’s presence through it all. And that is more than I need. Much more than I deserve. By faith, I live with the knowledge that My Father is the Keeper of the beautiful, even amidst the ugliness of life. Uniting beauty and sorrow, He collects His children’s tears and transforms them into a fragrant incense. Bringing life from ashes, His breath stirs the smoldering embers of offerings that have all but taken the lives of their bearers. Granting unlimited mercy, He heals those whose hearts have been paralyzed by grief and draws them into a dance with the joyful. And to every freedom seeker, He offers the amazing gift of His glorious presence, continually gracing lives with the assurance of being kept.

Truly, I rest in a keeping not my own. And it is here I find that I am learning to embrace mercy even as it embraces me. Bit by bit, I’m understanding the realness of being infinitely valued by the One who is infinitely timeless… and it is changing me. Changing me so I can not only believe the value of truth, but I can accept it as truth for me. And I rest in the assurance that, regardless of the twists and turns this path of life may take, I am forever in His keeping.

Kept
…and You knew me before I was
… and You sought me in the darkness
… and You found me when I could not find myself
… and You held me like a secret
… and You whispered by Your Spirit that You kept me
for this moment and beyond.
(from Scrapbooking Your Faith)

Over the past few days, these words from the song recorded by Kari Jobe have been playing on a continuous loop in my mind. After hearing this melody for the first time, my thoughts turned to the familiar lines from Psalm 57, My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast.  And being the word freak that I am, I had to pull out my concordance and dig up the original Hebrew definition. In short, the meaning of steadfast is: to be erect (standing perpendicular); fixed; confident; prepared; ready.

Hmm… how often am I really steadfast in praising God? That’s the million dollar question. Unlike the psalmist who resolved to stand firm in the midst of all troubles, my heart is more likely to faint at the first whisperings of doubt. Instead of being wholly bent to give God praise, I’m more likely to bend under the weight of my fears or insecurities. Wavering, inconsistent, weakened, distracted – now those are words with which I can relate. And yet, God desires that I lean into Him and become resolute in trusting that He is the One who holds “each and every moment; what’s good and what gets broken.” In essence, He is continually inviting me to accept His invitation to steady my heart.

When I looked at the Free Online Dictionary definition of the word “steady,” it had the expected meanings that were similar to my concordance’s rendering for “steadfast”- firm in position or place; fixed; unfaltering; sure, etc. But one of the definitions listed gave me pause: Free or almost free from change, variation, or fluctuation.
Almost free.
Those words sprang from my computer screen and burrowed into my heart as I realized that, all too often, I live according to the world’s standard of freedom. I live in the spiritual condition of being almost free.

Instead of clinging to the truth of John 8:36 which states, Therefore; if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed, I settle for being almost free.  While I do allow God to steady my heart and fill me with His hope, I can’t say that I do so without stipulations. Without reservations. Without holding on to a few of those niggling doubts. I stop short of living God’s promise of complete freedom and fall for living the world’s lie of almost free, instead.

The sad realization is that Almost free = Still enslaved.

But I’m awakening to Satan’s schemes. While I may not yet be fully conscious, I’m not completely snoozing any longer, either. And in this state of awakening, I’m determined to accept the invitation that my Savior offers. The invitation to live with a heart free indeed because of His steadfast love and mercy. Free to love and be loved by the One who holds me in His hand and steadies my heart so I can steadfastly praise Him.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it’s hard.
Even when I’m tempted to believe that I am only almost free.