From Luke 9:

When the days were approaching for His ascension, He was determined to go to Jerusalem; and He sent messengers on ahead of Him, and they went and entered a village of the Samaritans to make arrangements for Him. But they did not receive Him, because He was traveling toward Jerusalem.

When His disciples James and John saw this, they said, “Lord, do You want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But He turned and rebuked them, [and said, “You do not know what kind of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them.” ] And they went on to another village.

Not long before the conversation above took place, a man had brought his son to Jesus to be healed. He said his son was demonized and would convulse, foam at the mouth and end up “mauled.” The father also noted that he had already asked the disciples to heal him, but they couldn’t do it.

Jesus called them an unbelieving generation and healed the boy Himself.

What I find humorous (and telling) in this is that the disciples couldn’t muster the faith to heal a child, but all of a sudden when they are offended, they’re confident in their abilities to call down fire from heaven and destroy the Samaritans.

They didn’t have faith to heal but they had faith for vengeance. Or perhaps they were just more interested in vengeance.

One thing I’ve noticed about Jesus is that when He used His power and authority, it was on behalf of others. He never once defended His own rights or even His life, though He certainly could have.

There is no insecurity – driven protection of ego, or demand for respect, which is so prevalent in us, as humans. Instead it was,

You do not know what kind of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them.

I believe we should live the same way. Whatever authority we have ought to be spent on behalf of others, to love them more and better.

As believers set in a culture fixated on My Rights, the safest place would seem to be in the place of fighting for the rights of others, not our own (except, of course, in cases of abuse, but that’s not what I’m talking about here).

When we take up our own cause it’s very difficult not to become angry, vengeful, unpleasant and ungodly. It’s a rare sort of person who can fight for himself and remain pure in heart.

I am, again, amazed at the heart of Jesus.

Just a thought…

“In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you, for this is the Law and the Prophets…Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?’ And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me , you who practice lawlessness.'”

I believe what Jesus is really saying, in saying, “I never knew you,” is: “You were not my disciple.”

The essence of discipleship in His day was following, learning, modeling and living life alongside the teacher, day in and day out. It was a close relationship in which the student actually became like the teacher. He or she didn’t just learn ideas from him or believe he existed. It was supposed to be formational and transformational.

The goal of discipleship is that the disciple will not only do what the teacher does, but do it the way he does it.

The kinds of people Jesus references (above) did some outstanding miraculous deeds, no doubt, but I can’t help but note that they were of the showy variety. Healings, miracles and casting out of demons would attract quite a bit of attention.

When Jesus’ own disciples were excited about the miracles they themselves had done, high-fiving so to speak, Jesus said, don’t rejoice over that, rejoice over the fact that your names are written in the book of life.

I believe that what was lacking in the ones He never knew can be described in one word: HUMILITY. They must not have had true compassion. Perhaps it was a hit and run kind of ministry not really fueled by love. He said they practiced lawlessness, after having defined the law as treating others as you want to be treated.

The hallmark of Jesus’ life and ministry is humility and true humility is learned from Him and is empowered by Him.

A true student of Jesus will learn the art of humility. There must be more to our faith than a mental assent to a belief system. There must be a commitment to discipleship – to be a learner. After all He did say to the tired and worn out, “Come to me. I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. My burden is easy and my yoke is light.”

It’s about more than fire insurance to secure a happy eternity sometime off in the distant future. It has to be more than that. We must want to be with Him now, learn from Him now, in this life, not just after we breathe our final breath.

When He came to the earth, His kingdom came with Him and in Him. Transformation happens through Him by people who really follow Him. All of the issues of life would be solved if everyone literally treated others as they want to be treated.

And that would be a slice of heaven on earth, would it not?

Somewhere around fall of last year, I became aware that I was undergoing a process I’m now calling, unbecoming.

Unbecoming – n. the process of undoing and breaking down what one has become, apart from God’s design
v. to undo and break down defenses and assumptions so that one can become who she was meant to be and see God more clearly

Sometimes I think I sound like a total drama queen. But then the more I talk to people, the more I see that the things I feel are really pretty common among women. So, I share another drama queen moment…

One morning I was in a time of prayer, crying and apologizing to God for being so messed up. There were many areas of my life that weren’t working and there were things I wanted to change, but after years of trying, they still were no different.

As I sat with my eyes closed, a picture came into my mind. I was in a workshop and I saw a pile of what looked like broken shards of pottery on the floor. Then I saw a man quietly bend down and gently sweep it into a dustpan. He wasn’t angry, or even irritated – what I sensed was compassion.

He took the dustpan filled with broken pieces, emptied it out on his workbench and set to work putting it back together.

This was a picture of me and my life.

Though I am broken, I have a God who specializes in fixing broken things. In fact, He kind of likes broken things.

My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. Psalm 51

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners. Isaiah 61 and Luke 4

He came because of our brokenness, which takes many different forms.

I’m learning not to fear the brokenness and not to despise my own weaknesses. When we release all of our pieces and parts and mess to Him (and that’s the key) He uses them to build something else. He uses it for His purposes and for His glory.

Don’t ever forget that He came for the sick and the broken – not the put together, I got this, don’t need anything people.

Don’t fear the breaking. Don’t fear the unbecoming. Let all that isn’t Him in you, be stripped away. Let yourself be broken and remade.

He’s got a better way.

On that note I love this song from Nichole Nordeman, called The Unmaking. Click the link and take a listen…

The Unmaking

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven-
A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace. 
He has made everything beautiful in its time.

I’m learning the art of living in the moment. What I mean by that is that I’m learning to let each moment be what it is.

If I feel joy, then I want to stay in that feeling, instead of worrying about what could possibly happen to take my joy away.

If there’s a happy moment in the midst of a relationship challenge, I want to enjoy it, rather than think, “wait a minute, I’m supposed to be mad.”

If I’m sad or hurt I want to stay there, rather than escape by turning to my old friend, anger. Better to admit that I’m hurting and let God speak to me there, than to become angry and stuff the pain.

Anger soon turns to bitterness.

I don’t even want to turn to my sense of humor. That’s my other go-to pain reliever. That’s not always a bad thing, but I’ve realized that I have a habit of avoiding pain like the plague.

The first time I remember doing that was when we had to put our dog to sleep in third grade. A friend was over and I didn’t feel okay to cry, so I laughed it off. I felt guilty about it and was really sad for a long time over the loss of this dog who had been with our family since before I was born, I think. I don’t know why I didn’t think crying was appropriate. Silly.

I’ve had a habit since then of pain avoidance.

I only remember one time when I was fully in the moment, when I couldn’t escape my sadness. That was the day of Summer Kempfer’s funeral. I’ve never cried so much in all my life. I would have loved to escape into laughter or even anger, but it was too overwhelming. I’m glad.

The bottom line is that I have a problem with feeling negative emotions (and sometimes good ones). A lot of things have been swept under the rug over the years, because either I didn’t want to risk exposing my pain or because I didn’t feel I was allowed to, for various reasons.

Healing doesn’t happen when things are hidden. You can’t move past something you won’t acknowledge. Emotions are God-given – yes, ALL of them. They tell us what’s going on in our inner man.

Happiness and joy make life sweet. They are opportunities to feel gratitude.

Pain and anger are red flags that let us know there’s something that needs to be addressed, in ourselves or in our relationships.

Sorrow lets us know that we have loved someone. Grief is a natural part of life.

We need to develop the ability to engage with God, and with friends and family, when we are overwhelmed with emotion. And express gratitude when we feel joy.

He has made everything beautiful in its time.

I had a random thought…

When someone dies there is a tendency for us to think about and talk about the positives. We might be accused of acting as though the person was perfect –

Don’t you remember what she said? Don’t you remember that time...Don’t you remember the way she…

The haters and realists will remind you.

We forget their flaws or don’t want to mention them…it feels off limits to talk about negative qualities of people who are no longer with us (even though we know they had them). It just seems disrespectful.

Here’s the part where I had a thought:

What’s so bad about that?

Furthermore, what if we learned to do that while our loved ones were still alive?

What if we chose to overlook their peculiarities, quirks, weird behaviors and even hurtful events?

What if we didn’t have to see eye to eye on every issue? What if disagreement wasn’t threatening?

What if we forgave quickly?

What if we did all of this for the living?

It’s not that we wouldn’t have problems or that we’d be unaware of flaws. Maybe those things could just shrink in the light of our love for the person.

It’s a big thought and a tall order for many of us, I know. It’s a stretch.

But, what if?

There’s a good chance that when they’re gone we’ll wish we had.

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.

When the Nigerian girls were kidnapped by Boko Haram, the hashtag #bringbackourgirls was everywhere. The Hollywood elite, and even Michelle Obama, blew up the Internet with it. There was outrage.

Rightly so.

When police brutality against people of color rose to our attention, another hashtag, #blacklivesmatter was everywhere. There was outrage.

Rightly so.

And then there’s Cecil the lion. I don’t need to say more. #cecilthelion is everywhere and the dentist who killed him is being hammered on social media. There is outrage.

Probably rightly so. I really can’t say, however, because I’ve been too distracted to care.

What I want to know is where is the outrage for the government sanctioned murder of unborn human infants? Where is the outrage for babies, literally torn limb from limb, primarily for the sake of convenience, or for sex selection?

Nevermind the fact that the parts might be sold. That’s horrible, but hardly the worst part.

The videos released regarding Planned Parenthood have made clear and obvious to anyone who will really stop and look, that abortion is a wicked, evil practice. It’s cruel. It’s painful. It destroys life.

Where are all the hashtags? Where is the universal outrage?

Where? Seriously.

I really am hesitant to talk about this because I have friends who had abortions when they were younger and I don’t want to hurt them or rub salt in their wounds. And make no mistake, they are wounded. They aren’t happy about it. They aren’t glad. Their hearts are broken. Abortion took from them, too.

I don’t judge them, I pray for them. It’s not my job to be the judge.

But what is my job is to speak for those who don’t have a voice. We must speak up for the defenseless. You don’t have to share my Christian faith to see this for what it is.

You just need to be human.

I am so sad and so angry that this legal atrocity happens thousands of times every day in the United States of America – where everyone is free, where we all have rights…but only if you’ve made it out of the birth canal alive.

And sometimes not even then.

This should not be.

I know that this doesn’t qualify as “polite conversation.” It’s not seen as appropriate for public discourse or for making and keeping friends. It isn’t “nice.” But to quote Lynn Hybels, who was probably quoting someone else, nice girls don’t change the world.

I get it. It’s unpleasant. It’s gruesome. People have strong opinions. People have pasts they want to forget. The last thing I want to do is cause people pain.

But what about the pain these babies endure? What about that?

I don’t know what the answer is, or what to do, other than talk about it. This needs to be addressed in America. It really does.

And the perfect opportunity has now presented itself. We can’t look away.

As William Wilberforce said in his speech regarding the slave trade,

You may choose to look the other way but you can never again say you did not know.

This is our moment. It’s before the eyes of America. Will we look the other way?

We are without excuse if we do.

*to my friends who’ve been through the abortion procedure, and have suffered for it, I’m sorry. I pray you’ve made peace and know the forgiveness God offers. There is grace available, there is healing available. Nothing is too big or too bad. Seek counsel if you need it. I love you. If you’ve made peace and know you’re forgiven, I pray you walk in the strength and knowledge of that. I would encourage you to tell your story. Your story is powerful and it can change lives.

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Proverbs 4:23

Around the beginning of this year, I had a revelation about myself, and how I relate to others and handle pain. I was driving alone in the car one morning and I had a thought. (That’s where I have most of my thoughts…it’s the best place for thinking.)

I was thinking about a person I know and her anger. Then, I thought to myself, you know, if I have any anger or residual bitterness in my own heart, it needs to go. It’s just not okay.

So, I prayed a really short, kind of general, emotionless prayer, and told God that I don’t want to harbor anger or bitterness and that I agree with Him that it’s wrong. I said no to using those things and yes to forgiveness and unconditional love.

Now, that sounds simple, and it is, but living it has been a process. I did NOT become Pollyanna overnight. I did, however, set my heart in that direction, in a new and fresh way, and that counts for something.

My prayer seemed simple enough, and, as I said, I didn’t feel anything as I prayed, but immediately afterwards I began to see some things more clearly (I also cried for four days, but that’s another story).

In my mind I saw a picture of a heart. It was a big, plump heart, but it was coated in black. Imagine a chocolate dipped heart, with a hard outer shell. That’s how it looked. It was almost completely covered, apart from one small area.

What I realized is that the hard outer shell represented bitterness and anger. I had used those “tools” to cover and protect my tender heart.

This is a skill I believe I learned early in life. If someone hurt me, instead of admitting I was sad, or feeling the pain, I’d get mad.

Anger is an easy path. Brokenness and pain is often a much harder journey. Anger feels powerful and proactive. Pain feels weak and, well, it hurts. You can project anger but you must absorb pain and then decide what to do with it. It takes work and, often, the help of others.

It’s hard to sit with the feelings of being rejected or unwanted or overlooked or not likeable or not good enough or whatever the case may be. It’s way easier to just get mad at the person who offended you.

Anger is simply a mask, a cover, for something else, most of the time. Get past that and look below it and you just might get somewhere.

I’m in the process of getting somewhere. Thankfully, my heart wasn’t completely covered over. It’s still tender and the real me is still in here.

And, with God’s help I will become who I am…who I was meant to be.

Photo source: roswellpark.org

Yesterday I read, and was captured by, 1 Peter 4:8, which says,

Above all love one another deeply [or fervently, continuously] because love covers over a multitude of sins.

I’ve heard it and read it hundreds of times, but it leapt out at me, as if for the first time.

I looked up the meaning of, “covers over,” and saw that it’s a future tense verb and it was no great surprise to see that it means,

To hide, veil; to hinder knowledge of a thing

The future tense simply means that it will happen, IF one chooses to do the action. IF I choose to love deeply, fervently, continuously, then it will cover a multitude of sins.

When I put that into the verse it spoke to me in a deeper way. Read it this way:

Above all, love one another deeply, because love will hinder the knowledge of a multitude of sins.

I’m pondering the implications of that – of knowing that God loves me that way and that I am called to love in such a way, as well.

What would that look like, be like, to love that way, as a habit?

I think most of us have, or have had, difficult relationships. How would things change if we were able to love deeply and continously?

To allow love to hide from view the wrongs done? To choose to look away from pain, in favor of love, because we have been loved this way?

Wow. That’s powerful.

I think we’ve all seen plenty of artsy, or at least wanna be artsy, photos of people with their books and coffee.

This isn’t meant to be that. For me this represents simplicity. It’s all I want right now. We can make life and faith so complicated, and I’ve had my fill of complicated.

If you walk into a Christian bookstore today, or the Barnes and Noble religion section, you will find thousands of books written by Christians. You can find entire books written about topics that only receive slight mention in Scripture.

You can find polar opposite views sitting side by side on the shelf. You can find books written with the express purpose of refuting other’s Christians’ books. Everyone has their own “revelation,” and sometimes they don’t all line up. Oops?

This really should not be, but because we are human, this is what we do. We complicate simple things. We choose pet doctrines and develop tunnel vision for those things. We expect everyone else to agree. We call them heretics if they don’t. We question their salvation if they come up short in our own eyes. We exchange the words of Christ for some guy’s interpretation.

We give up meeting together as a family of believers, because we’re too busy, or tired. Relationship takes time and effort and some of us just won’t do it, or don’t feel that we can right now.

The things that would make for our peace are the first things to go. I want to enjoy my family, make memories and have adventures together. I want to love them well.

I want a church family who will “spur me on to love and good works,” with people who actually want to see what Jesus had to say – what mattered to Him?

What is life supposed to be about, since He established His Kingdom? What does it mean to live in a now-but-not-yet reality? What ought we be doing? I know people are afraid of that word, “doing.” “We’re human beings after all, not human doings,” they’ll say.

I know. I get it. I’m not talking salvation by works. I’m talking about the good works that are actually very important in the eyes of God, as evidenced throughout Scripture.

But now I’m rabbit trailing.

Back to the point: I’m tired. I’m craving simplicity. Just me, a cup of coffee, prayer, music, the words of Christ, a notebook, an open heart and a question:

“Teach me. What really matters to you?”

In my life?

In my family?

In my world?

In the world at large?

I want to get it straight from Him for awhile.