Learning to Trust

I pulled out of the parking lot and came to a stop at the light, the air quiet save for the rhythmic click of the right turn signal.

“Turn left here,” my husband says.

“Really? Because the only way I know how to get there is by turning right.”

“Just trust me. Turn left.”

“Okay, but I was going to turn right, and then make a left down the next street, and in a little while we’d come out by Walgreen’s, but I guess I’ll trust you and turn left.”

“Oh, this is you trusting me, huh?” He says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, I do trust you, but that’s the only way I know how to get there.”

The light turned green, and I turned left.

********************

In hindsight this seems like a ridiculous conversation. My husband is way more directionally savvy than I am, and from past experience, I have absolutely no reason not to trust him. It is, however, a very revealing conversation. Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks, right? While a good social worker will tell you there’s a reason for every behavior, there’s also a heart condition behind the curtain of every conversation, and what this one tells me is I have an issue with trust, specifically regarding the unknown.

It hasn’t been the only red flag lately but one in a series of realizations that have given me eyes to see an underbelly of pride and fear I’d been blind to before: I’m afraid of the unknown, sometimes so much that it prevents me from listening and obeying, or at the very least, putting up a fight before I do so.

Most of humanity can probably relate, though. The fact is, the unknown is scary. Not being in control is scary. But it’s just like us humans to focus on what is being asked rather than whom is doing the asking. The reality is, God is fully aware we don’t know what’s going to happen next. He’s God, and we’re not. But God doesn’t ask us to focus on the unknown when choosing whether or not to obey. He asks us to focus on Him.

Do you trust Him?

I mean, do you really? What if He asks you to turn left, and the only road you're familiar with veers right? How much do you lean on your own understanding instead of the One who gave us the understanding we own?

These are some of the questions rolling around in my head this week. Maybe they are in yours now, too?

Holding tightly to anything that isn’t ours to cling to is ultimately a burden, and one that needs to be laid down, however begrudgingly, for us to live freely and lightly. For us to learn the unforced rhythms of grace. While we try to control and manage our surroundings, God invites us to come to Him and recover our lives, find rest for our souls, and live free.

Walking in Humility: Further Thoughts on Speaking the Truth in Love

 Jesus is a gentleman.

It's something I heard often in those early years of Christianity, when I didn't know much of the character of this God who lovingly swooped into my life and stole my heart. But I was eager to learn.

He will knock on the door of your heart, but He will never barge in. He's a gentleman. He will wait until you open the door.

He's a gentle man. Humble in heart. Unconditionally loving. He hung on the cross so we wouldn't have to, so we may live free, out from under the burden of sin.

But in order to be resurrected into freedom, there must first be death. For Jesus, it took three days, but for us it often takes a lot longer. It takes time to loosen the grip of selfishness. Time to exhaust all other options; time to see ourselves for what we truly are.

The journey to surrender is often an arduous and painful one, but it's a destination we must arrive at willingly, with a heart of humility and repentance, before we can ever attempt to lay down our lives for Him. Sin surrendered out of pressure to conform is still tethered to the heart, and it's human nature to pick it back up again, eventually.

But we are such a stubborn and prideful people that we often continue to exist suspended in the misery of our pain, stuck somewhere on the path between conviction and repentance. It's hard to pry our fingers off of the life we think we always wanted, or the way we thought things would go. We are afraid. In our heart of hearts, we sometimes don't trust God with the unseen, so we take matters into our own hands and attempt to do damage control. 

We self-medicate to dull the pain of unfulfilled existence. We watch too much TV. We continue to eat long after we're full. We get angry at the people we love for interrupting our time or needing too much. We drink or take drugs. We long to feel wanted and loved, so we engage in illict sex. We spend money we don't have. We lie, steal, and talk badly about others.

We get mad at life and mad at God.

And yet, He waits for us.

Hosea tells us He's the loyal, unconditionally loving spouse to a whore of a wife, who is constantly wandering and seeking fulfillment and pleasure elsewhere. He's the one who repeatedly buys us back from the auction block, rescuing us from the misery of our sin, even though we've failed to see our value and worth in Him. Again. Even though we've run off and sold ourselves to cruel masters when, all along, His yoke is easy and His burden light.

He patiently waits for us, even though He knows we will abide with Him for a time, return His love for a time, only to run off again after the next abusive substitution we allow close to our heart.

He's a gentleman. And though His heart aches for the lost, He will never force their hand. Because that isn't love.

We're fellow sojourners on this road toward freedom and true life in Christ. It's a journey that requires much patience, grace, respect, and love, as people wrestle out their issues with Christ, as they manage the pain of limbo, and as they do the hard work of offering up their deepest selves to the brutality of the cross.

Only in Christ can death give birth to freedom and new life and surrender yield victory. Be gentle with one another and humble in heart, as you seek, by His strength and grace, to follow after Him today.

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

The Ability to Speak the Truth in Love is Not a Right but a Privilege that Must Be Earned

{Written somewhat in response to the interview with Jen Hatmaker that has blown up all over my news feed.}

Homosexuality. 

It's a hot-button issue these days, and I have many thoughts. 

The internet is often a loud and crowded place, so let's imagine we're sitting on the food-stained chairs around my kitchen table with a warm cup of coffee in hand. Now, depending on the time of day, I can't guarantee it will be any quieter, but I hope the smile on my face and warmth of the mug assures you that you're welcome here. 

First, let me tell you what I know. And by know, I mean what I've experienced. 

I know that for the last year or so, around this very same kitchen table, I've been cultivating a relationship with the youth of the neighborhood. They come and go at all hours of the day, and they don't even bother to knock before they come inside anymore. Because now, it's home.

Of the handful of teenage girls that stop by to visit, every last one of them identifies as lesbian. I'll be honest and say this was uncharted territory for me, so I ask a lot of questions, both of God and them. I've braved through the awkwardness, and they, in turn, have been surprisingly open with me. Like any other teenager, they just want to know that they are heard and loved, no matter what. That their souls and stories are safe here. 

The first time the group of them gathered around the table with their cups of coffee and asked for advice on the relationship drama that currently plagued them, I prayed a silent prayer while I listened, which went something like, "Oh, Lord... I need wisdom. I'm so out of my depth here. Please help."

I put on my best poker face and tried not to look surprised by any of it. I decided that if Jesus wouldn't be surprised by our delicate issues, then I shouldn't be, either. When people open their heart and lay it bare for all to see, sometimes with fear and trembling, we must remember that we are treading on holy ground. To be fully known and still wholly loved...isn't that what God wants with us and for us? It's a sacred space, and we must treat it as such. 

We talked about the difference between love and infatuation, what dating a friend can do to friendships in the long run, and how when you date a person you also date their family. And you know what? I've lost count of the number of times they've returned and told me, "mom, you give the best advice!!" 

As we've opened the door to our home, they have seen us in all our everyday, ordinary, imperfect glory. As we've invited them to the table and listened to their stories without an agenda, they have opened the door to their hearts. It's taken a lot of time and intentionality, but we're slowly earning the privilege to speak the truth in love. 

The truth is a powerful thing, and we fling it around much too carelessly these days. We use it as a bludgeon to beat those who are already down, vulnerable and oppressed by a society that views them as worthless or weird. We turn it into ear-deafening noise and bully those we don't even know because we Christians have the "right" to speak truth, especially on the internet. We look at ourselves in the mirror and think because we don't personally struggle with X, Y, or Z that we're not like those other "sinners," the ones that could never know God because of their lifestyle.

I believe what you call that, my friends, is PRIDE. And pride and love cannot coexist. 

Sadly, Church, we don't often speak the truth in love. We speak the truth in PRIDE.

Pride loves to tell its own story and jumps at the opportunity to give unsolicited advice or "fix" others. Love listens without agenda. Love asks questions and tries to understand.

Pride is convinced it has the cornerstone on truth and won't have anything to do with someone who might challenge what they "know." Love is soft and open, realizing how little they know of the big picture. Love is a student of people's lives.

Pride assumes it has someone all figured out because it knows "their kind." Love knows that everyone has a story, and there's a reason for every behavior. Love understands people are doing the best they can with what they have and doesn't condemn.

Pride enjoys its own perspective and opinion and has no need for others. Love knows its outlook is just one piece of the puzzle of humanity and values other opinions and perspectives, especially the challenge of those radically opposed to their own.

Pride judges others and is quick to feel better or superior, assuming the worst of people who are different. Love is open and vulnerable, viewing the world and the people in it through eyes of humility.

Pride uses conversations to talk about themselves. Love uses conversations to get to know people in greater depth.

Pride loves an audience and gets a rush out of defending the truth. Love knows the truth doesn't require a defense, that the truth can speak for itself if the audience is wooed to it through a relationship built on unconditional love.

Pride is quick to insist that it is not, in fact, prideful, and also quick to point out the sin in others. Love fully acknowledges that all are sinners in desperate need of a Savior and His grace, that we are fellow travelers on a journey toward freedom in Christ.

Pride seeks converts and numbers. Love, with eyes of compassion and grace, seeks freedom. 

Pride singles out certain sins and believes them to be worse than others, which inevitably results in distance and exclusion.  Love knows that, regardless of our sin of choice, we are all just searching for Jesus. 

Pride has an agenda and attempts to bend and direct relationships accordingly. Love is selfless, putting the interests of others above their own without condition.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. {1 Corinthians 13:4-7}

It is impossible to speak the truth in love outside the context of a relationship. 

The speak the truth in love requires a foundation of trust, or the relationship will not be able to withstand the weight of it and collapse. Even after you've spent time intentionally laboring in the trenches and cultivating a relationship, speaking the truth is always a very delicate matter. It's treading on sacred ground. 

If I was talking with my girls, this is right around the time I would ask, may I speak plainly? 

I'm thankful for the many times He reminds us to love one another in Scripture, for the example Jesus set, teaching us how to live, because sometimes we don't know how to be human without being an asshole. God doesn't bludgeon us over the head with the truth, argue the truth with us, or demand we conform to the truth. While we were still sinners, He laid down his life for us in the greatest display of unconditional love in history. As Christians, He requires the same of us--the laying down of our lives for others. In Jesus there is indeed freedom, but it may cost you everything.`

And I remind you of that today, as we're chatting here at the kitchen table, because I want you to remember what it felt like when you first experienced His unconditional love. How it wrecked the world you thought you knew in the best possible way, how your outlook on reality as you knew it was shattered forever. How He rescued you from the filth of your sin with no strings attached, simply because He loves you. For freedom's sake He set you free, that you may run and not grow weary as you follow along after Him. 

I want you to remember that the truth is wonderful, freeing, and radically life changing. But it must be paired with selfless love or it is nothing more than noise to anyone who hears it. Why would anyone ever consider the cost of knowing Christ--the laying down of their very life and all the sin in it--if they know nothing of His radical, illogical, sacrificial love?

The ability to speak the truth in love is a privilege that must be earned. It's not a right simply because you're a Christian. 

It's so vitally important to love well, Church, because these girls and their community are hurting. They are scared of a God they only know as judgemental and condemning and terrified of His church people. They've been ostracized, cut off, and told they would burn in hell.

In an unsure and guarded voice, they say, "I'd like to come to church with you on Sunday, but am I allowed? Because I used to go to church, and they told me I couldn't come anymore because I'm gay. Will your church welcome...someone like me??" 

My heart broke into a million pieces. 

Of course you are welcome here.

We all have stuff, every last one of us. Not one is "good enough." I sit in the pew next to the homeless men with alcohol on their breath. I worship in the company of felons, recovering addicts, and those still in the throes of the disease. The church should be a sanctuary for sinners, a hospital for the sick, a salve for the soul of the broken...not a country club where pious, modern-day pharisees look pretty and pay their dues.

Life is hard. It's not easy to figure out how to exist together as sinners. How to lay down our lives and the right to be right, how to truly love one another. But it's worth it.

It's so worth it. 

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: Honest Self-Assessment

"She's so open about her shortcomings that it makes it really hard to use them against her."

It was a line spoken in jest on the Best Friends Whenever episode my daughter wanted to watch this morning. 

Huh, I thought. Isn't that freeing. 

Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. 32 Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” {John 8:31-32}

The truth breaks down walls, unlocks chains, and sets captives free.

Not only the truth about God and what He thinks of us but the truth about everything. The truth about relationships, gifts, talents, personality, limitations, resources, and support.

Lies in any form will keep us behind bars and from reaching our God-given potential, but so often we choose to live there, closing the door of our prison cell with our own hands. We lie to ourselves for many reasons but mostly to try to meet a legitimate need in an illegitimate way. We are desperate for love and affection, we long for approval, we don't want to be in pain, and so we lie.

He would pay more attention to me if only I....

They didn't really mean to treat me that way. I must've just misunderstood.

If only my life were like hers, if I had what she had, then I'd be happy.

I'd be more attractive if I were a couple sizes smaller.

They are really awful people, so it's okay if I rip them apart on social media.

I mean, I know some bad things happened, but it all worked out okay. The past doesn't matter.

Every time I see her, she's so calm and patient with her kids. She's a much better mom than I am.

Those people are all addicted to drugs and don't deserve my money or resources.

This food/person/relationship/workout/thing will make me feel better.

If I'm able to live up to the ideal image of a _________, then I will be satisfied and fulfilled.

Facing the truth about reality is often painful, so painful that many people will go to great lengths to avoid ever having to think about it. We bury the truth, subvert the truth, mask the truth, avoid the truth, and hide the truth, even from ourselves. The truth, while sometimes more painful than we care to imagine, is also more beautiful and freeing than we dare to admit.

We have to be willing to look at things for what they truly are and grieve, if necessary, to live free and out from under the heavy burden of lies that hold us captive.

As a young mother, I lived with the weight of the ideal homemaker, Christian, and wife on my shoulders.

It was exhausting.

Certain ways of doing things, which in and of themselves were efficient and exemplary, were, at least in my experience, portrayed as "the only way." Anything short of that meant, well, you're not very good at this. You failed. You haven't measured up.

I lived in the shadow of this ideal for years, and it literally gnawed away at my soul to the point where I wanted to give up and throw in the towel on the Christian life. I told a friend in confidence on a retreat that I was done. Done trying, done striving. I knew how to "play church" as well as anyone, and I would still show up on Sundays with a smile on my face, but it wouldn't mean anything. I didn't know what else to do.

She didn't know either, but she listened. She welcomed the opportunity to know the real me, truth and all. We half-heartedly agreed to spend more time reading our Bibles.

But as time unfolded, I began to lay those ideals down and grieve their passing. To admit, yes, I will never measure up. And you know what? It's okay. Because I realized "the only Way" that was true and good and perfect and right was Jesus, and there was nothing more I could do then what He had already done for me. Furthermore, His relationship is different and unique with everyone. It's certainly not a one-size-fits-all gig.

It's freeing to realize a lot of the "how to's" preached in Christian circles cater to disciplined, type-A personalities.

Wake up early in the morning, before anyone else, to spend time in the word and prayer. 

Read your bible every day.

Journal and apply scripture to your life. Doodles and embellishments optional but highly encouraged. 

Get your Read Through the Bible in a Year Plan and start checking off the days. 

Make sure to attend a bible study to continue learning and growing.

It's also incredibly freeing to realize that I am not one of those type-A people...

But I spent years upon years trying harder, vowing to do better, setting resolutions, and journaling apologies for my failures, again. Until I finally was able to see the truth that God just didn't make me that way, and it's okay. 

Although I may not read my bible daily, the Holy Spirit is ever-present in my heart and ear, and I can meet with Him just as deeply poring over the Word as I can pouring water out of dirty dishes at the kitchen sink. 

I can learn about Him while attending a bible study or Christian conference, but I can also learn about Him in the eyes of my children, in their gaze of unwavering love and trust. I can smell Him on the wind as fresh air breathes life into my lungs. I can walk with Him in the cool of the day and know the sound of His footsteps. I can hear His still, small voice as I go about the mundane tasks of my day.

The truth breaks down walls, unlocks chains, and sets captives free, but we have to be willing to humble ourselves to see it. We have to be willing to look it square in the face and own it. 

And it's worth it, friends, because when we finally surrender, we find victory in Christ. Walk with Him in humility today. 

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This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, Walking in Humility: Learning to Abide with God in the Everyday. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. Enjoy!

Walking in Humility: There's Freedom in Embracing the Tension

I tied a knot on our busy morning by vacuuming the floor just before I laid the kids down for a nap. My daughter promptly came back downstairs to tell me the dog was playing with a toilet paper roll. 

Eh, it doesn't look like a full roll, I thought when she handed it to me. Thankfully.

I assumed we dodged a bullet until I rounded the corner and saw a healthy pile of shredded tissue all over the black rug I'd vacuumed just moments before. I followed the trail and located ground zero in the bathroom upstairs. 

Sigh. 

When all parties were tucked back in bed and the dog wrangled downstairs, I proceeded to pick up all the tiny bits of white by hand. The article titled, Motherhood: The Big, Fat F*ck You, came to mind. I have no idea why. But to this thought I said, yes. And amen.

I'll raise you pet ownership, too, if we are, in fact, going to add to the list.

This was a prior paper towel incident. While I was downstairs cleaning the basement, she was upstairs happily uncleaning the family room. Dogs these days. Sheesh.

I'm sure you all have your own personal chips you could throw on the pile.

Some days the lack of recognition, the seemingly futile attempts to train the future generation, or the muddying of your hard work seems like no more than a big middle finger.

But other days... Other days you're sitting at the kitchen table painting your daughter's tiny toenails, while she makes her brother laugh in his seat. You marvel at the sun shining through the window at just the right angle, creating a halo-like glow in her silky blonde hair. Their eyes light up as they smile at each other and carry on, a blessing of the close bond of siblings. 

Amazing also are the colors she picks out, each toe something different. Colors you'd never have thought to put together, but somehow, it works well. Your hand rests on her warm little leg as the polish dries and you study their little faces, their eyes and their smiles, how her head tilts to the side when she laughs just so, how he points with his cubby little finger, bringing it up to his pursed little mouth. You want to etch this moment in your memory so you'll never forget the lines of their faces, their Chiclet-toothed grins, the joy filling your soul.

Love and gratitude begin to well up in your heart to the degree that you realize this must be how God Himself feels when he gazes upon His children. And in that moment, no article in the universe could do more to convince you this is the absolute best job in the world. The rewards may not be quantifiable, but they are deeply fulfilling, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be than painting pink sparkly polish on stinky little feet.

I don't know what you contemplate while vacuuming, but today I thought about how motherhood, as with most situations or vocations in life, is a reflection of the mysterious "both/and" tension that orders the universe, and even our human hearts.

Cherish every moment, people say. They grow up so quick!

Now, I don't believe that every moment is cherish-able. Because sometimes? Motherhood is a big, fat F*ck you. Sometimes it just downright sucks. There's no need to sugar-coat it. In fact, I'll even go as far as to say it's detrimental to sugar-coat it.

But, it does go quick. I know there will be a day I'll brush cobwebs away and pull the etchings of their tiny, sweet faces out of a dusty memory vault, wishing so desperately I could be back at the kitchen table for one more moment. 

It's both/and.

Big middle finger/best job in the world.

Exhausting/Exhilarating.

This also applies to the human heart: Sinner/Saint. The beating heart of an individual is capable both of incredible atrocities and immense good.

Wretched/Redeemed.

God of Wrath/God of Love. Spend any time in the Old Testament, and you'll walk away with a view of God that may surprise you. Vengeful, jealous, and full of anger and wrath. It's hard to reconcile with the God portrayed by Jesus in the New Testament. 

Law/Grace. 

The one thing all of these both/and's have in common? The /.

Jesus is the / that makes it work. Only He is able to bridge the gap, to allow the two opposing forces to exist in a mysterious tension. 

Because of Jesus, the drudgery and frustration of motherhood doesn't have the final say. Even on the worst of days, He can turn it around in a "slash" and use it for good if we let Him. When we have nothing left to offer, He is able to provide. When we're fresh out of mercy, He can calm the storm.

Even though Jesus took my place on the cross, I am still a sinner. But because He died for me, I'm no longer just a sinner. In Him, the sinners become saints and the wretched, redeemed.

God isn't a God of scarcity, limits and boxes but of abundance, possibility, and hope. And because of Him,

no past,

no label,

no identity, 

no choice, 

and no day 

will ever again have the final say.