Leaning heavily upon a friend, I sent a text asking for encouragement. It had been a few weeks of near constant activity, hosting, helping, serving, and being needed. The lack of a sense of God's touch was tangible, and I sought a friend to help me see things more clearly.
Look for grace.
Simple, yet so not as clear as I had hoped. The mystery intrigued me, and, I was too tired to argue, so I just tried it. Every time I felt the tasks before me too great, my internal integrity pulled too thin, or my temptation to give up, I breathed the word of encouragement. I prayed, "Grace, Lord, help me find grace".
Though the world didn't come tumbling through the door in a perfectly packaged boxes, what did come in seemed to float above me, as I found myself moored to God's grace in quiet yet profound ways. I didn't have to speak up to be heard, I didn't have to stuff my emotions to be strong, I didn't have to rush in to get my need met. Entering into a gentle silence became possible for me, in ways it never had seemed to before.
Looking for grace, asking for God to give grace, I had found grace!
"Turn to me and have mercy on me, as you always do to those who love your name." Psalm 119:132
This is what is required of me when I was out of my league. And I find it more and more. As I pursue God's high calling, focusing on doing all things well, loving on family with intentionality, being character defined by each moment instead of stymied by my own lack of ability, it becomes more and more common for me to have to rely solely and uninhibitedly on His grace.
God must chuckle even as I post this. Of course, my dear, the only way you will relinquish your life to me is when it is impossible to do it on your own strength and talent. Yet, here I am, surprised, and joy filled. It is God's gentle grace that put me in the impossible calling, and then His gentle grace that supplies me with all I need to get through it.
And all this, with a simple breath prayer:
Grace
laughter, breathing, being, knowing
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mission. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Mind Matters
When a mild slope of depression threatened to submerge me into a state of low affect, I called out to God, even as I didn't want to. And he heard my prayer.
His sweet voice beckoned me back, with this simple word, "expectations". I kept hearing it as I prayed quietly in my slippery state of sadness. Here was God inviting me to see what he saw so clearly. So, I bravely took a look. What expectations?
Well, this little princess discovered, my expectations. Boy, was I sheepish as I found a lot of them.
Apparently, moving closer to family, driving for every holiday or birthday, being in a home with trees and lush greenery, and having this here on earth, was an expectation of mine. Even though my husband and I had eight years ago decided these dreams would not be mine, I hadn't really let them go. Here they were drowning me.
So, when bright city lights beaconed through my home, when two am tow trucks woke me from my sleep, when family had to pay a small fortune just to spend a holiday with me, I grew bitter. When the children asked for a tree to climb, when vacations included a beautiful setting that reminded me of my longing for a pretty home, and when my "family" became friends whose life turns had kept them from their relations, I grew sad.
But it was all in my mind. It was all in my expectations. Why had my expectations grown so exact and when was I going to let go of them?
Now, it turns out. Thanksgiving week, actually. I laid it all out on the table, with God, and my husband. As I prayed and conversed, the obvious became reality: I had to let God's reign rule in my mind. I had to give up the thoughts I was letting rustle around in there, the expectations of having a comfortable little life near family and in the great outdoors. I had to embrace realities that did not match my expectations, and call them good.
And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:2
May your Advent season, the season of expectations, be filled, as mine has most recently, with the thoughts and mind of God. May you find in it, rest for your weary souls and joy brightening your darkest nights.
His sweet voice beckoned me back, with this simple word, "expectations". I kept hearing it as I prayed quietly in my slippery state of sadness. Here was God inviting me to see what he saw so clearly. So, I bravely took a look. What expectations?
Well, this little princess discovered, my expectations. Boy, was I sheepish as I found a lot of them.
Apparently, moving closer to family, driving for every holiday or birthday, being in a home with trees and lush greenery, and having this here on earth, was an expectation of mine. Even though my husband and I had eight years ago decided these dreams would not be mine, I hadn't really let them go. Here they were drowning me.
So, when bright city lights beaconed through my home, when two am tow trucks woke me from my sleep, when family had to pay a small fortune just to spend a holiday with me, I grew bitter. When the children asked for a tree to climb, when vacations included a beautiful setting that reminded me of my longing for a pretty home, and when my "family" became friends whose life turns had kept them from their relations, I grew sad.
But it was all in my mind. It was all in my expectations. Why had my expectations grown so exact and when was I going to let go of them?
Now, it turns out. Thanksgiving week, actually. I laid it all out on the table, with God, and my husband. As I prayed and conversed, the obvious became reality: I had to let God's reign rule in my mind. I had to give up the thoughts I was letting rustle around in there, the expectations of having a comfortable little life near family and in the great outdoors. I had to embrace realities that did not match my expectations, and call them good.
And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:2
May your Advent season, the season of expectations, be filled, as mine has most recently, with the thoughts and mind of God. May you find in it, rest for your weary souls and joy brightening your darkest nights.
Friday, September 24, 2010
A tough day
Today started out sadly. A good friend knocked on my door to say goodbye. We sat in the living room while she nursed her sweet little guy, the children wowed her with their little nothings, we found a moment to reflect. And I blessed her, and I cried, and then she was gone.
They are off to an easier place to live, with more land, lower housing prices, and greater opportunities for work; a place where family is just a few blocks away and having a mother stay home with her children is not a financial sacrifice.
This evening finished off with a bon voyage party for another good friend. We played in the park, ate delicious food brought from various homes, talked about the weather, listened to the children laugh, and then we hugged goodbye. And then they will be gone.
Again, they go to a place where jobs are plentiful, housing is cheaper, and family is close. Where friends stay home in mass, and so see each other often, and children can be given space to grow. I blessed her, and disheartened, walked away.
In between, I brought my sweet little dog with us to run errands so she wouldn't be home without us, and someone yelled at me for leaving her in the car for a moment. They called the police, they called security, they called the SPCA. No one came to honor their requests, but they were angry, and they felt I need to know their anger. It was a neighborhood known to be unfriendly, and it is the neighborhood I must often shop in, as it is so close.
The tough little boys who make up our soccer league mocked my son because his ball was purple, and he said it hurt his feelings to hear this greivance. And I felt greived.
The city was a hostile place for me today. And I wondered why we chose to live in it.
Some days, it is hard to live in the city. Today was particularly so.
Why do we? Why are our children raised in an urban hub, with constant noise of traffic, with throngs of people occupying every space? Why do we live in a place that often sees friends move on to quieter lands with better economies? It can be so very lonely, and so very pressed with people.
"The Kingdom of heaven suffers violence and violent men take it by force." -Matthew 11:12
My husband and I don't live here by accident.
We live here on purpose.
There is a desire in our hearts to see Jesus known in this city, for people here to be ushered into his lifegiving presence, to have meaning restored to their lives, to let them walk away from rebellion and submit to the greatest King, our Lord. We have felt this call on our lives, and we have tried to live faithfully to it.
The devil seeks to destroy life, and he particularly rankles at those who are life givers. My family, my heart, my vision for why we are here, are prime targets for his deadly arrows.
So when sad days come, when the temptation is to join the great exodus, when the hostility of the city is pressing in on me, I must redouble my commitment. Christ's heart for those in the city must become my mantle piece. The fervor and zeal that brought me here in the first place, must be front and center in my heart. And from there I can resist the arrows of the enemy.
From there I can rejoice that my children are seeing parents who have a deep sense of mission and purpose to their lives. They can see how struggles do not define us, but refine us. And in the future, they can choose to do the same.
May the days that are hard, that are sad times, that include the difficulty of existing in this yet redeemed world be yours to grab a hold of the kingdom of God ever tighter, with all of your volition charged for the task. And may your children be inspired by the faith they find in their home.
They are off to an easier place to live, with more land, lower housing prices, and greater opportunities for work; a place where family is just a few blocks away and having a mother stay home with her children is not a financial sacrifice.
This evening finished off with a bon voyage party for another good friend. We played in the park, ate delicious food brought from various homes, talked about the weather, listened to the children laugh, and then we hugged goodbye. And then they will be gone.
Again, they go to a place where jobs are plentiful, housing is cheaper, and family is close. Where friends stay home in mass, and so see each other often, and children can be given space to grow. I blessed her, and disheartened, walked away.
In between, I brought my sweet little dog with us to run errands so she wouldn't be home without us, and someone yelled at me for leaving her in the car for a moment. They called the police, they called security, they called the SPCA. No one came to honor their requests, but they were angry, and they felt I need to know their anger. It was a neighborhood known to be unfriendly, and it is the neighborhood I must often shop in, as it is so close.
The tough little boys who make up our soccer league mocked my son because his ball was purple, and he said it hurt his feelings to hear this greivance. And I felt greived.
The city was a hostile place for me today. And I wondered why we chose to live in it.
Some days, it is hard to live in the city. Today was particularly so.
Why do we? Why are our children raised in an urban hub, with constant noise of traffic, with throngs of people occupying every space? Why do we live in a place that often sees friends move on to quieter lands with better economies? It can be so very lonely, and so very pressed with people.
"The Kingdom of heaven suffers violence and violent men take it by force." -Matthew 11:12
My husband and I don't live here by accident.
We live here on purpose.
There is a desire in our hearts to see Jesus known in this city, for people here to be ushered into his lifegiving presence, to have meaning restored to their lives, to let them walk away from rebellion and submit to the greatest King, our Lord. We have felt this call on our lives, and we have tried to live faithfully to it.
The devil seeks to destroy life, and he particularly rankles at those who are life givers. My family, my heart, my vision for why we are here, are prime targets for his deadly arrows.
So when sad days come, when the temptation is to join the great exodus, when the hostility of the city is pressing in on me, I must redouble my commitment. Christ's heart for those in the city must become my mantle piece. The fervor and zeal that brought me here in the first place, must be front and center in my heart. And from there I can resist the arrows of the enemy.
From there I can rejoice that my children are seeing parents who have a deep sense of mission and purpose to their lives. They can see how struggles do not define us, but refine us. And in the future, they can choose to do the same.
May the days that are hard, that are sad times, that include the difficulty of existing in this yet redeemed world be yours to grab a hold of the kingdom of God ever tighter, with all of your volition charged for the task. And may your children be inspired by the faith they find in their home.
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