All in a Snail's Days Work...

All in a Snail’s Days Work... Pause and watch this video...to the end.

Did you make it? Be honest. Most of us will say; Nooooo! Or that we had to pry our eyelids open with toothpicks. Honestly, how can we be expected to watch a slow moving snail for almost 30 seconds? Personally, I have important things to do. People to see. Places to go. I. Am. Busy. Don’t get me wrong. I can sit for hours and watch something engaging. Something that keeps my adrenaline pumping. Or my oxytocin flowing with happy endorphins. My vice. The Hallmark Channel. It is hard to pause for snails. They are so slow. And unbelievably...still. They are never in a hurry. I am positive I could light a fire behind one. And it would not pick up its pace. Why? I had to know the real answer. So I asked Google: “Why do snails...”. Yep. That is as far as I got. Apparently, LOTS of people ask about snails. And the first prompt I could choose? Yes, it was “Why do snails move so slow?” I felt better knowing that other people were probably just as bothered as me. Well. Or curious. Here’s what Google said, “One of the reasons that they move so slowly is that they must manufacture a slime track on which they move. For every inch they move, they make a thin layer of slime an inch long. This takes time as well as lots of water and energy. The advantage is that they can move along on almost ANY surface.” Wow! I am bothered by a creature who lives in a posture of dependant intentionality. They are preparing for every “step”. Each of their movements relies on their ability to...pause...and manufacture slime. They need to prepare. Before they can move. Okay...God. I get it. I hear You. This is not just another lesson about “slowing down”. Which I understand I am still learning. No. It’s not just about slowing down. It is about intentional dependence. Pausing. And preparing. Before I move. What if I lived like a snail? Never taking a step before pausing. Recognizing my dependence on God. And preparing for my day with the slime that will keep me going? An attitude of worship. A heart filled with God’s Word. Engaged with the Holy Spirit. Attuned to His voice. Snails are successful because they instinctively know what they need to do. And they just do it. It takes time. And energy. But the payoff is amazing! They can move on ANY surface. I want to walk on ANY surface. Over the mountains. And rocks. In the hardest places. Like the valleys. And desserts. And I CAN! If I stop rolling my eyes at the snail. And instead. Learn to be more like one.

Jesus in the Pandemic...

I enjoy the companionship of a Malawian sister each weekend (sadly not these past 2). And during this pandemic, her presence revealed my inadequate understanding of the other. The suffering. The poverty. Daily life.

I consider myself an empathic person. Yet I come up lacking in this; I have never experienced poverty. Or wondered if my basic needs would be met. My current “suffering”? Less access to fresh produce. Half my usual beans and lentils. The contemplation of rag usage should the pursuit of toilet paper prove unsuccessful.😳

When I asked my Malawian sister what she ate each day, she replied, “Oh, with some cornmeal, onion, tomato, and cabbage, I am so satisfied and happy!” Really?... Satisfied? Happy? She even said “content”. What a picture. Her family lives in an impoverished country. And yet she is content and happy with the little she is able to secure.

In the middle of a pandemic, well known Scriptures take on new meaning. Often our hearts become more open and teachable. And the disconnect between what we say we believe. And how we actually live. Becomes glaringly obvious. 

Matt 6:11 “Give us this day our daily bread.”

Our daily bread. Daily. No more. No less. 

My hope is that we grasp the significance of living out this Truth. It would change our communities. People could grocery shop without standing in long lines in the early morning. Employees could help customers find items; instead of perpetually saying “sorry, that is out of stock”. Pictures with angry, sad, and bewildered captions would cease to crowd our newsfeeds. 

If you know Jesus; then I invite you to join me in being like Jesus in the pandemic. We can pray before we grocery shop. We can ask; what is my daily bread? It is probably a lot less than we believe it to be. At least that is what my Malawian sister and the Holy Spirit helped me discover. And I’m humbled and thankful they did.

Toilet Paper and Hand Sanitizer Veggie Tales

Lost in the Space of Fear...

“Danger Will Robinson. Danger.” “Warning! Warning!” I can still hear his voice in my head. Robotic. Monotone. Male. Oh please tell me I am not the only one who remembers robot B9 from Lost in Space. I loved that show as a kid. And I think I know why.

Imagine having someone perpetually on alert for you. Like a personal bodyguard. Imagine the felt safety. Absolutely no surprises! No sneak attacks. No disaster without first a forewarning. Ah...what a gift.

When fear is a constant companion. When trauma knows your name. Well...then the thought of a robot sounding a precursory alarm...it’s kind of comforting. Almost magical.

But what happens when the robot begins to rust? Or some internal control goes haywire? Yikes! Depending on a fallible system may induce even greater fear. 

How do we adequately deal with fear? With anxiety? With our need to control? 

The Truth is; God is infinitely superior to a mechanical being. And yet too often we fail to acknowledge that He...and He alone... is our safety. We are hidden in the shelter of His wings (Psalm 61:3-5). He holds our hand (Isa 41:13). He promises that He will work all things together for good in our lives (Ro 8:28-29). He calls us by name. We are His (Isa 43:1). Every hair on our head is numbered by Him. There is not even one sparrow who falls to the ground without His notice (Luke 12:6-7). And knowing that He is intimately shaping every single day of our life (Ps 139:16)...that knowing can...dare I say should...dispel our fear. 

Dearest beautiful masterpiece of God - May we be absolutely overwhelmed by His lavish love for us. His knowing of us. His sovereignty. His acute awareness of our fear. And resolute desire to dispel that fear. 

I will be the first to admit. Life can be hard. Even harsh. And yes...sometimes not knowing tomorrow. That can be scary. And yet our life in Him is full of such unfathomable goodness. Moments. Seasons. Of great joy. Despite the hardships. Or. Better said. Within the difficulties.

Beloved Masterpiece - We are a witness to the world. A world mired in fear. That knowing the God who flung the stars into place. The God who causes the sun to rise and set each day. Knowing that God. Changes the anatomy of fear in us.

So do not be afraid. Take courage. Have faith. And remember. Even when things come unexpectedly crashing  down around you. He knew. And He already made provision. In Himself.  

Do not fear,  for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand. (Isa 41:10).

In this world you will have many troubles. But take heart.

I have overcome the world (John 16:33).

The 4th Freedom...

The 4th of July. A day to celebrate freedom. I live in the United States of America and am grateful for my country.

I honor service people, watch parades, pack up my family, go to the park, and watch fireworks. I love all of the festivities. The day is fun and fills up quickly with good memories. 

Along with a throng of people, I stand to sing our national anthem, and hold my hand over my heart. My eyes fill with tears. I am thankful to live in this country. I am thankful for my freedom.

 At the culmination of festivities; I paused. Freedom. 

What does it mean to be free? Really free?

God spoke to me about a different kind of freedom. All around the world there are people who live in countries that are not free. Not free as we understand freedom. And yet, some of those people are far freer than those living in the U.S.A.

Freedom is rooted in truth. Jesus spoke to us plainly: “And you will know the truth [regarding salvation], and the truth will set you free [from the penalty of sin].” John 8:32 AMP. 

Freedom is not rooted in a location, it is rooted in a Person. 

And the beautiful truth is that a belief in Jesus, as Savior and Lord, 

means we no longer face punishment for a life that dishonors God. 

Every single lie, moment of unkindness, morsel of gossip, every act of selfishness...we are free from its penalty. His death. Our freedom. The ultimate act of selflessness. He took our place.

Jesus the Savior...He is setting people free in communist countries, in places with brutal dictators, in prison cells, or in areas where few outsiders travel. His truth sets us free. Yes; He is our freedom.

I am thankful to live in a free country. I am grateful that my freedom remains preserved because of faithful people who care about my homeland. Yet I am more grateful for my Savior, and the freedom that He brings. Because His freedom is available for everyone. He loves the whole world...not just my small slice of it.

It is so inclusive...so liberating! The world can be free, truly free. And we can celebrate this freedom not just one day out of the year, but every single day of our sacred lives.

Not Chosen...

As I read the account of the replacement of Judas in Acts 1, I could not help but pause and wrestle through the story from a different angle. Two men; Joseph and Matthias. Lots are drawn. One man chosen. One man...not.  

I am rather tender hearted. And honestly, it is difficult for me to imagine anyone potentially feeling left out. There is no record of words exchanged or any feelings, so I am left to speculate. Matthias potentially felt honored. What an incredible opportunity. A Divine calling. A great ministry.

And Joseph? What thoughts and emotions did he experience when he did not hear his name? When he realized that he had not been chosen? I want to be believe that even though he may have experienced the momentary presence of grief, he moved on to rejoice with his brother Matthias. And that is because I prefer happy endings.

What would allow Joseph, or any of us, to successfully move on from this moment? Perspective is key. It is a God centered perspective that propels sacred forward momentum. It is His perspective through us that keeps us from getting stuck...or continually looking back.

Life is a series of events made up of varying opportunities. In every opportunity, we have the choice to remain hopeful and grounded within our intrinsic value and purpose. Or not.

I believe that the focus need not be on having been passed over for an opportunity. 

It seems the wiser choice is to remain steadfastly fixed on the sovereign God

Who chose me for something else.

My something else.

My purpose. Your purpose. My destiny. Your destiny. My work of ministry. Your work of ministry. My life calling. Your life calling. Each of us, as God’s beloved masterpieces, completing the good works that God planned in advance for us (Eph. 2:10).

We can become discouraged when left out. Or passed over. It can be difficult to wonder if we have been overlooked. Undervalued. Not seen. It is easy to doubt ourselves. Or even God.

And so I remind myself, and you...life is guided by a loving, knowledgeable, sovereign hand. There is a record of every single day of your life (Psalm 139:16). When we possess the God given talents and abilities to do the work that He has called us to...we will hear our name. Dearest Masterpieces, the lot will always fall on us when it is our time to shine.

The 50 Year Old Masterpiece...

March 28, 2017. 

The day I turn 50. 

For the past several months I’ve found myself in a perpetually reflective state. The question primarily on my mind; has my life made a significant impact for the Kingdom?

Milestone birthdays. They give us reason to pause and survey the years of our life. I remember turning 40. I still felt so young and vibrant because of my involvement in full time youth ministry. My birthday celebration was a festive disco party, complete with 80’s music and attire from my high school years. My favorite people in attendance. Teenagers. We danced. And I...yes I...was the solid gold dancing queen.

Life is different at 50. I am different. And though I am still amazingly fun, the forever dancing diva, there will be no over the top party this year. No crazy festivities. And strangely, 10 years ago that is exactly what I’d envisioned.

It is typical to receive presents. Even to request special gifts on milestone birthdays. I’ve thought about what I’d want. Things I don’t normally get to do are appealing. Pedicure. Manicure. Eyebrows waxed. Facial. iTunes gift cards. Getting my house cleaned. Eating out at a really expensive and classy restaurant overlooking the ocean. Flowers. Money to go shopping for some new clothes that are currently in fashion. A romantic cruise. Renting a red Maserati and driving along the coast.

I would be grateful for any and all gifts. Yet none of these gifts speak to the deepest yearning of my heart. At 50, the greatest gift answers my greatest heart’s desire.

To know that my life has been spent well for the Lord.

As I look back over the past 29 years, the years I’ve journeyed as a follower of Jesus, I long to see a pathway beautifully marked with changed lives. People who believe in Jesus. Those who have felt lavishly loved and accepted in various seasons. People I’ve mentored. Those who now willingly embrace and live out their unique purpose and calling.

Many questions. Many prayers. Oh Lord, have I truly lived my life well? Have I used the years that you’ve given me thus far to accomplish those things that You planned long ago? Those Ephesians 2:10 Masterpiece works? Have people seen Jesus in me? Have they felt His love? Known His forgiveness and embrace? Understood His acceptance? Have I helped people embrace their unique gifting? Set them free to change the world for you?

I received an early birthday present. It arrived in the form of a letter. It was from a young man in our former youth ministry. He thanked me for my investment in his life. He told me of the influence of my passion for the Lord, contagious faith and welcoming love for him. He expressed how I had helped shape the life he lives today. That young man is headed to the mission field. He will leave a footprint in India that will leave it forever changed. My heart is overflowing with joy.

And while the letter came from this young man, I knew it was truly a gift from God. The sentiments expressed answered the ponderings of my heart. Words on a page woven sacredly together within my intimate conversations with my God.  

I have made mistakes. I have some regrets. There are definitely moments I would love to erase. Words I wish had been left unsaid. And yet, as I’ve reflected on my life, the affirmation of God has clearly been evident. I have known the joy of His delight in me.

I can look over the pathway of my life and see a myriad of faces.

People who God has asked me to love.

People who needed to know the Truth about Jesus, themselves, and their reason for being.

I see tears. Laughter. Sacred conversations.

Time passes quickly.

Yet we rarely speak that reflectively...contemplatively...until our latter season is upon us.

It seems like just yesterday I was turning 21 and surrendering my life to Jesus. It was such an exciting time. I could not have imagined all that God intended to do in and through me. I just knew that I wanted to make a huge impact for His glory. I wanted to love Him and love people with every single day of my life.

This may not be the year you turn 50. It may not be a milestone birthday year. Yet I hope that this writing will cause a momentary pause for pondering your life.

Every day we have choices. Choices for how we will spend our time and our resources. May I encourage you? Live well. Live in such a way that you will have few regrets.

And I promise you, there is one thing you will never regret...

loving God and loving people.

This earthly life is but a vapor compared to eternity.

Store up memories that help you revel in who God has made you. Create moments that allow you to experience life as God intended it to be. Live life on purpose and with purpose.

Be the masterpiece God created you to be.

Sit within His lavish love. Walk in those good works.

You are His beloved. And your life matters. Every. Single. Moment.

Invisibility as a Mercy...

International Disability expert, Joni Eareckson Tada, explained it well when she told someone living with debilitating fatigue, “People have such high expectations of folks like you [with invisible disabilities], like, ‘come on, get your act together.’ but they have such low expectations of folks like me in wheelchairs, as though it’s expected that we can’t do much”.

I am a fan of the Invisible Illness campaign. It is giving a voice to those who have long suffered in silence. Many of us have hidden in the shadows, too afraid of judgement or ridicule. We sit alone with our thoughts, our fears, and the questions: What if no one believes me? What if they think I’m simply making excuses? Do I risk others trying to discredit my suffering? What if people view me as weak? What if they never accept that my limitations are legitimate?

And yet to have the power to be invisible, truly invisible, would be a mercy. 

What if I vanished every time my internal world battled against my ability to be a peaceful and life-giving presence. Think of it. My anxiety would seek to control only my little world. I alone would receive the verbal barrage from my irrational fears. The depression could swallow no other victim. The mania, harnessing pain filled words destined to drive others from my presence, would never be heard... even if shouted aloud from within the madness.

Yes, to be invisible would be a mercy. There would be less regret. Fewer apologies. Greater emotional safety for family members and close friends. Less shame. Less Guilt.

It is life draining when my invisible illness becomes anything but invisible. I feel naked. Vulnerable. And unbearably seen. I wish only to hide. To be invisible.

I grow weary of the endless apologies. With unceasing vigor they reverberate in my mind. I am so sorry. Will you forgive me? I know I behaved badly. It is not about you. It is about me. It is not okay. I love you so much.

I hate anxiety. I hate fear. I hate depression. I hate mania. I hate it all. 

And yet I must love myself as God loves me. 

And I must see myself as one struggling, not as one defined by the struggle.

I have an invisible illness. I paint black strokes over the spectrum of beautiful colors that light the normally functioning world. I race impulsively through thoughts that misdirect my steps. Simple tasks on a to-do list cause my heart to pound and chest to tighten. Yes, I walk hand and hand with these uninvited guests, and I limp.

You cannot change what you do not first accept. And I am on a journey toward acceptance. If I can accept their internal presence, I can live within the tension of the current struggle, and the victory that is mine in Christ.

I am not a victim. I am a child of God.

And the One who began His good work in me is still writing my sacred story.

A Life Worth Sharing...

Screaming and giggling. Kids everywhere. Parents interacting. Sometimes trying to rest against a wall and escape the whirlwind. The sheer delight and terror of a kids birthday birthday.

I began a conversation with a quiet woman next to me. It seemed as if the Spirit of God ushered me into a sacred space and whispered, “share your stories.” And so it began. So many stories. One after the other.

After introducing myself I told of Elizabeth’s adoption. The open invitation encompassing our home. The beauty of a welcoming and safe community we offer Chinese immigrants. The Africans studying in the States who find in our home a place of respite and laughter. Our church. The 250 people who worship together. And the 23 different languages spoken by the members. The birthday parties for 180 people. 180 people comprising homeless families, neighbors, school friends, or a single Mom befriended at a grocery store. The inability to pay bills and the knocks at the door. The words. God told me to give you $2,000. $500. The inclusive nature of our lives. 

No matter who you are. You matter to God. You matter to us.

Her eyes grew wide. Wonder evident in her gaze. Her face softened. She smiled. The smile remained through our conversation. She finally remarked, “I am not a Christian, but your life has touched me. You do so much for others.”

It is in these moments that I sense the pleasure of God. I am witness to my obedience. It is a life lived out of who He has made me.

In these conversations I know who I am...and Whose I am. I sense the wonder of being His masterpiece. I know the joy of walking in my gifting. Of fulfilling my purpose. 

I am doing those things that He prepared for me in advance.

My life intersected her life. God knew her story. He knew how and who would best communicate His heart to her. He chose me.  

Each preceding moment helps me to be more aware. More present. And more available. I am ready, willing and confident in my story. Because it is His story lived through me. His gifting lived from within me.

As I live out of my gifting each day, I collect stories to use for another day. History builds. 

Moment. By. Moment.

I am a collector of moments. Of stories. And my deepest desire is to live fully in each moment. Intentionally being His masterpiece. And witnessing the power of God at work in and through me. Changing history. One life at a time. One story at a time. As His Masterpiece.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the worst Mom of them all? 

And with all of the condemnation and judgement the mirror could muster, it landed its hurtful blow. You. 

Snow White is no match for you.

The car is relatively quiet. Our Vacation Bible School CD is playing some of our favorite tunes. Occasionally I hear my 5 year old say, “Mom, look at this” as a picture book is turned toward me for my enjoyment. My frequent response, “I can’t look while I’m driving.” I cannot help but remember how my husband talked of his experience while driving our daughter to kindergarten. He spoke of laughter, singing, learning new things, talking.

Our family dog begins neurotically jumping from the front of the car to the back. I am getting increasingly agitated as I push him in his seat. Why did I ever think it a good idea to bring this untrained dog? My tone is obviously impatient and filled with frustration as I attempt to demand obedience through my exasperation.

We arrive at school. As if in a fairytale, I attempt an idyllic goodbye scene. Am I delusional or simply unwilling to acknowledge the tension permeating the car?

“Mom, just drop me off”, my daughter says with an air of independence and a hint of anxiety. Feeling so flustered I do not even know how to make that happen. The parking lot is full. The dog is still on the move. My anger at the dog is mounting. And I am still delusionally clinging to my desire for an idyllic goodbye moment.

In the middle of my outburst my ears flood with her S.O.S. cry. “Mom. Listen to the song. Do you hear the song Mom? It’s so peaceful. It’s so much more fun when you’re peaceful.”

Pause. Enter time warp. The world shifts into slow motion around me.

When is it ever appropriate for a 5 year old to feel it necessary to bring calm to a parent?

I sought her forgiveness and then I drove home in tears. The heaviness; unbearable. My internal world seemed shipwrecked on a sailboat being tossed about in a gale wind. I could not keep up with all of the thoughts flooding my mind.

Quit. Quit. Quit. Quit every single thing you are doing outside of taking care of your little family. It’s all I could think about as feelings of failure overtook my being.

And then, seeing my complete vulnerability, the deeper darkness came in with its razor sharp harpoon.

She will need therapy because of you. She will never see God accurately because of you. She will disconnect from you and live in fear of you. When you are old she won’t spend time with you.

And. Then. He. Spoke.

Look at all of those accusations. What is the common word? I looked at the words on the journal page as if searching for buried treasure.

You.

The answer. It is you. And that is not the answer.

When did I become so powerful?

When did my daughter’s life trajectory depend on me?

I repented of my actions before the Lord. I wept in His presence and confessed my inadequacies. I talked to Him about the stress I carry because I have yet to learn how to set and maintain healthy margins. My Lord and I talked about how this stress manifests in my family in ugly ways that need to change.

I am not proud of that moment in the car. But that moment does not define me or my daughter’s future. And. That. Is. The. Truth.

As a parent I have an incredible responsibility to model Christlike behavior before my child. God has given me the opportunity to be His representative in her life. And sometimes I will fail. But my failures are never the final word.

God is writing His story of redemption through both of us. He started a good work in both of us and He will finish it. But it will not be complete until Jesus returns for us (Php 1:6).

God knows the happenings of yesterday, today, and tomorrow (Ps 139:16). That means He knew about today’s epic Mom failure moment. And that is liberating. It is just a moment.

My great hope is to pick her up from school and have a different kind of moment.

A moment where God shines and peace fills the air.

When you hear the darkness speak, remember that the word you is a weapon meant to paralyze us with fear and keep us focused on self. God holds us and our children in His hands. Our futures belong to Him and His good plans.

Our lives are made up of moments. Just moments. And if God can raise the dead, He can heal a moment. So today, dear Masterpieces, know that the God who calls you by Name is doing a beautiful work in you...moment by moment.