Have you ever considered that when you condemn yourself for something, you are saying that the blood of Jesus wasn’t enough? And when you take on and wear shame, you are saying Jesus’ sacrifice didn’t cover this particular thing for which you feel shame? Unfortunately, several religious communities have preached with great conviction that we must earn the love of God by good works and avoiding the bad stuff. But I don’t believe that is Scriptural or true.
The love of God was demonstrated when He sent Jesus to die for us, even while we hated Him, didn’t know Him, and didn’t care to. The one sacrifice Jesus made took on all the bad stuff—there is nothing that is too much or wasn’t covered at that point—past, present and future. If there was, Jesus would have to die over and over again to cover it.
When we agree with condemnation, we are negating Jesus’ death and resurrection. We are saying it is not enough, and I must really beat up on myself before I can be stamped “approved” by God. I must wallow in self-pity, in condemnation and in shame in order to earn God’s love. Yuck.
One of the most often repeated lies people share with me in terms of what they think about themselves is that they are worthless. This has been communicated by various people in their lives, or by their own definition time and time again. Sometimes they feel they should be at a different place in their lives and that would give worth. Sometimes they believe if they had worked hard enough to make people like them that this would give them worth. Sometimes they have been told that their only worth lies in their being used for whatever purpose the user desires, and that they will lose worth if they stop allowing someone to use them.
Worth is not transactional. It is not given when we earn it. A person doesn’t gain worth the more they achieve, relate to others, or give. Some people try to convince themselves they have worth, but it is usually based in something they have to believe about themselves. When someone communicates they are not worth their time, the façade is gone and we struggle to believe we have worth apart from what others communicate.
When we experience rejection while trying to find someone to communicate worth, any sense of having worth is obliterated as we have placed the definition on a person or place in this world. It is gut-wrenching, and feels like death.
We had a crazy windstorm last week with almost 24 hours of intense wind gusts and the resulting damages—trees falling, fences knocked down, various lawn chairs and trampolines blown away. I’ve never been through a hurricane on the coast, and I realized what people talk about with the sheer noise wind can create. My husband had to wear earplugs to sleep, and the howling and crashing went on all night.
At some point during the night, I woke up and listened to the wind for a bit while lying in bed. It dawned on me that this was what the disciples felt when they were out in the boat with Jesus, except they were on a boat tossed by the waves rather than a warm bed in a safe house. I imagined the fear and panic that would govern in a situation like that. They were pretty sure they were going to die out there in that storm.
Jesus had been teaching about faith prior to this story told in Mark 4. When the storm comes up, he is SLEEPING. This makes no sense to us when we don’t realize that God is enough in a storm, but Jesus knew His Father was watching out for Him and didn’t need to worry or stress about anything.
God loves you. That phrase has gotten trite and feels shallow sometimes. And yet, it is anything but trite and shallow. While we hated, mocked, spat on Him, God loves us. While we ran from Him and fought any call of His to come to Him, God loves us. While we rebelled and invited more and more darkness into ourselves, God loves us. While the selfishness took over to distort us into maniacal narcissists, God loves us. While we postured in false humility and rode ego trips for our “good” deeds, God loves us.
God reached through the darkness with which we had surrounded ourselves, calling our names and extending His hand to pull us out of the pit. We didn’t know Him, but He knew us. He knew every bit of us and still chose to love us. He loved us to death, and to resurrection in power. Jesus walked the road of ultimate sacrifice, knowing what was in each of us and how we chose our own way. He looked past it and loved anyway. He never stops loving. We simply need to accept the love.
I have been thinking about how cool it is that we take a safe place with us no matter where we go. We are similar to snails—they carry their home on their backs, ready to pull into a shell whenever things get scary. The difference is that our safe place is within, and we can access it any time without physically moving. God no longer dwells in a temple made with hands, but in His people. (1 Corinthians 6:19-20) He has given us His Spirit, and His very Life within.
We are in Christ, and Christ is in us. We contain the wrap-around presence of God within us all the time. It’s kind of a cool picture, isn’t it? We carry Him, and He wraps around us and shelters us as well. So many things with God’s kingdom are both/and. His Life is in us, and we are in Him.
I lift my eyes up, because sometimes it seems all help is gone.
I lift my eyes up in a desperate search for stable ground.
I lift my eyes up, wanting something to be my rock and fortress.
I lift my eyes up, seeking out answers, or explanation or something real.
My help doesn’t come from the mountains, though.
But from the Lord of the mountains Himself.
He is present, active and ready, although it may not feel true.
He is ready to help, and acting already though maybe not in the ways I want.
Sometimes the world around seems like constant distractions. Everyone is yelling at you about what they think you should consider to be important, or the “right” viewpoint, or the way you should feel. My prayer often in this year especially has been that I would not be distracted by anything that is not where my Shepherd is calling me. That doesn’t mean it’s not a place for anyone—but I want to have enough energy to pursue Him in the way He’s called me rather than chasing down a thousand bunny trails that lead nowhere.
In asking for this, God has consistently shown me that I am not denying the physical reality of a situation, but I am adding the spiritual reality. This isn’t an either/or situation. Something may be very awful, sad or difficult, but that doesn’t mean that this description fully encompasses it. I always want to acknowledge the pain and hold space for the grieving of a situation, but I also want to recognize the spiritual reality that God loves us with an everlasting love and He is shepherding us through even the darkest valley of the shadow of death.
As much as I am not denying reality, I am also not just looking for a positive spin on things. I think much has been made of thinking positive, and frankly, I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t find it helpful. Even while I am trying to think positive, the rest of my brain is at war showing that it doesn’t hold water.
I always find it interesting to read about the battles where one side is overwhelmed with unimaginable odds, and yet chooses not to surrender. Growing up in Texas, the Alamo was one of those we heard about a lot. In this tiny mission-turned-fortress, about 200 soldiers fighting for independent Texas held off thousands of Mexican soldiers in order to provide time for the larger army to later defeat the Mexican army at the battle of San Jacinto. The odds were ridiculous, but the Texans did not surrender.
I can’t imagine the fear that must have been going through the hearts of people in these kind of battles. They know somewhere deep inside that they are completely outnumbered and will probably die. But they count it worthwhile to stay, hoping that the outcome later will be worth their lives. They choose not to surrender, to fear or to the approaching army.
It stirs my heart to read about these brave people, and it reminds me that I also don’t want to choose to surrender, except to the One who is my victory. I don’t want to surrender to hopelessness that tells me I will never see the change for which I’m praying, or the end of a season of pain. I don’t want to surrender to fear that makes me obsess on the worst case scenarios and attempt to prevent and control outcomes I can’t see a way through. I don’t want to surrender to emotional or physical pain that tells me I will never have healing or relief, draining my life of hope for the future. I don’t to surrender to my weakness which repeats the same refrain over and over—you can’t, you aren’t enough, you will never make it. I don’t want to surrender to my anger and feel controlled and tossed around like being on a choppy ocean.
Does it ever seem like all I write about is difficulty? I suppose that’s not entirely true, but it is quite common. Of course, this is because so many of us are in difficulty. I don’t want to pretend that I have all the answers to those difficulties, but I do want to shed light on the way ahead.
I often have people ask me my opinions on many different happenings in the world. I’m not sure they really want my opinion, but rather an agreement with where they stand on whatever topic it is. I have decided with most of these issues, I don’t want to be distracted from my central focus of proclaiming rest and abiding in Jesus. My prayer, though, in many places of life is that I need wisdom. I used to want to be like Solomon, where I ask for wisdom and also get riches and power! What a deal! But now, more often than not, I ask for wisdom because I just need a way ahead. I am not smart enough to know what to do. I don’t have a plan for dealing with anything—recessions, world chaos, rejection, health issues. I need wisdom, and I need it for each moment as I take a step.
I have been reading the verses below in James quite a lot recently, and love the simplicity of what he says. First, when it seems like you are facing nothing but difficulty, it’s an opportunity! What?! It’s not an opportunity for you to pretend everything is great, but to see from the position that God has given you to see joy and His power at work in you to produce endurance and perfection. That doesn’t mean you have to try harder to gain these things. His Life is already within you and releasing it. Difficulty just clears the way. When we are in circumstances that are trying and testing, we get rid of a lot of excess simply because we can’t deal with it right then. We clear the way for what is real, for what will last. So, if you are in difficulty, let the extra stuff go and walk moment-by-moment with Jesus, waiting for His completion of His good work in you. He will do it!
Some days you wake up and it seems the whole world is on fire. And you haven’t even turned on the news! The financial strain looks like it will push you into a place you never imagined yourself or your family. The health prognosis gives you pain on top of pain, and no good treatment or way ahead. Or the treatment is more painful than the original problem! The government turmoil speaks of continued dire predictions as well as death, destruction and evil. The family division cuts you up inside into a million little pieces that cry out for restoration.
I heard an interesting quote by a singer called Nightbirde, who passed away recently after a couple of years battling cancer. She said, “Some people will call it ‘blind denial’ but I prefer to call it rebellious hope.” Something about that phrase lights a fire in my soul. We don’t have hope because we are surrounded in it, or because we see the obvious way through the dark tunnel. Instead, it is a sort of rebellion, to stand in the face of whatever crisis or turmoil presented and see past it to hope. It isn’t a denial of the circumstances, but recognizing you have a God bigger than the circumstances.
Some days I need a place to hide. A place that is safe and always accessible, no matter what is going on around me. I am not denying the bad stuff—it’s definitely everywhere. But I can also experience a place in my spirit that rises above everything else, allowing me to rest. It seems like an oxymoron, right? Rest when everything is spinning like crazy. But over and over again, God calls us to rest.
I’ve been spending a lot of time praying through Psalm 31 recently. Especially when it comes to praying for many I know who are in danger, who feel like their world is falling apart, who can’t find a safe place in the world at all. I am trusting God to be their hiding place, their rescue.
This is what I pray for them, and for you.
Prayer has ignited a struggle in me more often than a lot of issues. I knew it was important, but so many times it seemed like trying to force-feed yourself when you feel sick. What is the point? Why should we pray? What good does it do? Am I doing it right? These were all questions that plagued me when it came to praying.
I don’t claim to have it all figured out at this point, but I do have some thoughts on the matter as God has brought a bit of revelation about talking with Him.
That’s what prayer is after all—a conversation with the One who knows you inside and out, who has chosen to love you and who has promised to never leave you. So, at least you know that no matter what you pray, He will listen.
Many people ask me how I do what I do, talking with people who feel so broken every day to encourage them and point them to Jesus. It’s true there are days that I cry out from the heaviness of the stories, and the overwhelm of all the pain. Most days I enjoy the work I am privileged to do. I get to walk into people’s lives in places that most don’t ever hear about, and I treasure the trust that people give me in doing this. But what do we do when it’s just hard, and it seems like everyone around us is suffering and in agony?
First, I need to recognize when I’m trying to take on something that’s not mine to carry. My job is not to fix people, or their situations. When the pressure is on and I feel weighed down, often it’s because I am trying to take God’s job. Yes, I want to help, but I can’t help if I am overloaded with trying to solve problems I have no business trying to solve.
Second, I ask God for wisdom and strength in what to say and do. I have realized this year that the time I spend praying for people is more important than the time I spend talking with them. Why? Well, it puts me in a place to receive from God. When I realize I am weak and don’t have what it takes to fix a problem, I can receive the wisdom that Jesus is bringing to the situation and pass it on to the hurting person. God is the counselor—not me. So, I get to participate in what He is doing in someone, and that is a huge gift and a major relief as well. My friend Mike Wells used to say that we bring an empty bag and let God fill it with what people need. This no longer limits me to my own knowledge or skills, but open the door to the power of the God who knows all and works in hearts in a way I could never do.
I’ve been stewing on the concept of belonging for a few weeks now. You know when it feels like everything you read or listen to talks about the same thing, and you realize God is trying to tell you something? That’s how it’s been with this concept of belonging for me.
How does belonging change the way you view your life? We are all looking for a place to belong, for a people group or tribe who will rally around us, telling us we matter and have worth. Unfortunately, people are often rather faulty in doing this consistently, and end up failing us.
I blows me away that the God of the Universe reverberates over you over and over, saying, “I desire you. I want relationship with you. I want you to receive my love. I will never stop drawing you close to me, hoping you will see my incredible love for you. “
We cry out wondering “Why?”
We cry out for mercy, for change.
We cry out for relief from our suffering and that of others.
We cry out with David, “How long, O Lord?”
We know you are mighty to save.
We know you are present and able to rescue.
We know you feel this pain with us as we grieve.
We know you see us—we are not absent from your heart.
But we cry out for peace.
We cry out for hope when the future looks bleak.
We cry out for freedom from those who control and manipulate.
We cry out for your strong arm to reach in and bring us out.
I’ll be honest—there are many times that I have it out with my kind Father because I am confused about why He is allowing certain suffering, or how long He is taking to get people out of it. Sometimes it’s my own waiting that pushes me to frustration, while other times it’s growing weary in praying for others in their particular situation. The agony of the “not yet” sometimes seems to suck all the hope out of us, leaving us with constant pestering question that children of all ages have asked for decades—are we there yet?
In one of my recent podcast interviews, Sherry Roberts talks about how God asked her if she wanted Him for what He could do for her, or for Himself. And that’s got me thinking of how often I really want hope to be in the future relief or change that will bring me comfort. I don’t want hope to be found in a person, the person of Jesus. My ultimate goal is often to be comfortable, to not suffer, to avoid all the bad stuff.
So many times, though, I see that the removal of the places I find life, comfort or security are really the keys to freedom and becoming fearless. And no, I don’t like that any better than you do. I often throw a little temper tantrum about it even, like a small child who doesn’t get my way. I definitely never expected my life to be here, and wouldn’t have predicted it years ago in looking ahead.
I am invited into a friendship.
The kind I’ve not known before.
No rejection or conditions,
And weakness is my qualification.
My Shepherd wants to take my cares,
My worries, my struggles, my fears.
He lifts them off my shoulders—
I feel so lightened and free!
My Shepherd is tender and gentle.
He catches every tear in my eyes.
He is compassionate and caring,
Never impatient or condemning.
My Shepherd is an oasis of refreshment.
He nourishes and provides for every need.
He ushers in the weary,
To renew their strength and help them walk.
Fear in our society has gone from being an obsession in our own private minds to a constant surrounding presence. Everywhere we look, someone is calling out another problem that should cause us to be afraid. Sometimes I feel like a pinball, bouncing from one thing to the next about which I am supposed to get worked up and live in constant fear. In fact, the prevailing opinion seems to be that if you do not live in anxiety all the time, something is wrong with you or you are being ignorant.
I find it interesting that God focuses on fear so much in the Bible. I have heard it said that some form of “do not be afraid” is in the Bible 365 times. I believe, though, that God always provides a different way. It is not just a condemnation of fear so that we man-handle ourselves into judgement so we don’t fear. Instead, God tells us don’t fear, instead pray, trust, believe. He gives us something to put our energy toward rather than just telling us not to be afraid.
I was looking at a few of the more common fears today, and looking at God’s remedy for each of them. I want to move past just telling myself not to be afraid and understand the way in which God has provided an escape or a safe place to deal with the fear.
One fear that is a struggle for many of us is the fear of inadequacy. What if we walk around our daily lives constantly feeling as though we are not enough. I hear a lot of people try to combat this feeling with a recitation that they are, in fact, enough. I don’t find this entirely helpful, though, as just saying something doesn’t make it true or believable. Instead, I think we have to push into the weakness, real or imagined, and admit where we are.
I heard on the radio the other day that the third Monday of January is called Blue Monday. Apparently, many people are struggling with being done with a fun time of year at Christmas while still having the bills, the failed New Year’s resolutions and the cold weather. Whether you call it seasonal affective disorder or just the winter blues, many people really struggle with discouragement, lack of motivation, depression and hopelessness during this time of year.
I wonder how much of that is our sense of failure, as we realize we spent too much money at Christmas, ate more than we wanted to, or didn’t keep any of the resolutions we had set up for ourselves at the beginning of the year. So often we define our mood by our sense of accomplishment, and a bad mood starts with feeling like we have only failed at everything.
Last week I felt myself going into the funk of discouragement. I was tired and worn out with dealing with a lot of physical and emotional issues in my family over the last month. I cried out for something to give, for the “normal” to return and with it, peace. I forgot something, though, as I tend to do.
My friend Amy said something profound recently—well, she says lots of profound things, but this one particularly struck me. She was talking about seeing the small joys even when they weren’t exactly what you wanted, and she called it receiving the unwrapped gifts. This phrase made me think of how often I only want to be grateful for the gifts that are presented in the way I wanted them, enclosed in a pretty paper and topped off with a bow. The ones that present as less desirable, or not quite what I requested seem more difficult.
I thought of the days that were supposed to be incredibly special or beautiful like holidays or celebrations, and how they often seem hollow compared to the expectation I had set for them. Then other days surprise me with the lovely family time or special gifts that they bring when I didn’t expect them. Will I receive these gifts even though they don’t come wrapped up and in the time I wished for, or will I stand like an ungrateful child, despising them because they didn’t come the way I wanted?
God also reminded me of so many stories throughout the Bible when He does things in ways that no one expected or planned. I call them upside-down-and-backwards-gifts. Couples who wanted children in their youth when they were “supposed” to come, and instead received a very important child when it should have been impossible physically for them to reproduce. Victories in battle through the weakest and most fearful rather than the bravest and strongest. Battle plans that involved walking around a city for the walls to fall, rather than attacking with fierce fighting. A baby that was born to be king, but not in the way that many expected in taking Israel back from the Romans. Instead, He would defeat the very powers of darkness and evil that wrecked our world to begin with, and His battle was much bigger and longer-lasting than many had anticipated.
I’ve been particularly struck this year by Mary’s response to the angel when he announces that she will give birth to the Savior. Depending on the translation you use, she says “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.” “Behold, the Lord’s bond-servant; may it be done to me according to your word.” “As his servant, I accept whatever he has for me. May everything you have told me come to pass.”
This sounds lovely, and I wish that would be my response in the same situation. But in reality, when you think through what this angel had just told her, I wonder if this was much more of a receiving than we imagine. This was receiving a lifetime of rejection, outcast status by so many who surrounded her in her little town. Although Joseph believed her and took her to be his wife anyway, I bet there were a lot of gossipers who did not believe her or understand at all what was going on. They made assumptions and wagged their tongues about what had happened to Mary.
After giving birth to Jesus, Mary and Joseph had to flee to Egypt to get away from Herod’s proclamation to kill all the 2-year-olds to try to kill Jesus in the process. I’m sure when they returned to Nazareth, there was great bitterness from all the other families who had lost their sons who would be the same age as Jesus at that time. Again, rejection and outcast status prevailed.
So often we live with hope for the future or the events we hope will be in the future. We look forward to the time when the problem is solved, the pain is healed, the crisis is averted. I’m not going to argue that, but I wonder if sometimes we miss the fact that hope is current, not just future. It’s not possible only when something else happens, but can be found in the very person of Jesus present right now with you.
Many speak of resurrection in the future for us, and I am excited about it too. But we might miss the resurrection that is available today in our lives right now because we are so focused on the future one. Some people call this a suicidal rapturist approach—so focused on getting to heaven that they are just waiting until their days here on earth are finished in order to get to the place they want to be. Yet, we miss that God is WITH us now. It’s a present reality!
I was reading John 11 when Jesus heals Lazarus, and I found it interesting that when Jesus was talking to Martha, he reminded her that He was the resurrection and the Life. She was talking about a future resurrection, but He was talking about a present one. When we recognize the Life we already have, we can approach anything with hope because we don’t need to wait for something to happen to bring it. We already have hope in the Life of Christ within.
Now, I know that I’m getting some eyerolls before you even start reading. Great, you say, here’s another person telling me to be thankful in my terrible circumstance. Just give me a chance, though, to help illustrate what I mean. I know that many of us have situations that are downright awful, and we can’t see how God is loving us in the middle of them. That’s why focus is so important, because if we lose sight of His love, we lose hope. And without hope, there’s no way ahead.
I realize this is a bold statement, but every day I talk to people who are dealing with hard things, and I haven’t met one who doesn’t have some reason to be thankful and recognize God’s love in their lives.
Yes, it’s a challenge some days, but I think so often we put effort into anxiety for the future or regret over the past, and we miss the power of praising God in the present. I love what Ann Voskamp says: “No amount of regret changes the past, no amount of anxiety changes the future, and any amount of gratitude changes the present. Any amount of gratitude changes the present and wins back some ground—even for one very small thing.”
When we choose to focus on praising God in the middle of our mess, we are free. Free to see past the thing trying to distract us and steal all our focus. Free to see a future and a hope where maybe others might not see. Free to pursue a relationship with Jesus and know Him in a deeper way no matter the surroundings. Free to walk in a way that the situation doesn’t define us.
I just got to spend an incredible weekend with a group of women talking about freedom in Christ. I was so excited about what God was teaching me through preparing for the women’s retreat, I wanted to share some of it in a blog post.
Freedom is not something we create, but rather recognize. We are recognizing the freedom Jesus has already provided for us. He has done all the work, and the responsibility for freeing us from sin, shame, rejection, and so many other things is all His. When we accept this gift, we slowly begin to move into the realization of this freedom.
From what are we free? From our past and the negative identity messages that have been ingrained in our minds as we acknowledge the new life given and the Truth that sets us free. From rejection and people-pleasing as we recognize that crazy people don’t get to tell me who I am—only Jesus gets to tell me who I am now. From being a slave to emotion as I realize that emotion isn’t bad, but it should never be in charge and should be led with truth. From the world’s definition of success and failure as I recognize that success to God is knowing Him (Jn 17:3) and dependence on Him for every bit of my daily life. From fear as I recognize perfect love casts out fear and can move into being motivated by love instead of fear. From comparison—seeing people with God’s eyes and loving them rather than trying to feel more superior through comparison. From walking in sin as I realize sin isn’t natural or comfortable for the believer who loves Jesus, but it isn’t a guilt motivation but rather a natural outflow of Christ’s life in us. From filling needs with things of this world, as we realize they are like cotton candy—taste good for a minute but have no nutritional value or sustenance. From religion as we see the rules never helped anyone be free, but the relationship is the beginning of freedom.
I can’t tell you how often I hear the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle!” It makes me cringe every time because then the implication is that if you are overwhelmed by the circumstances that surround you, then you aren’t doing life right. You must be weak, or faithless, or messing something up. But this is nowhere in the Bible!
The verse that I think is misquoted to mean this is 1 Cor 10:13, in which Paul talks about how God will always provide a way of escape from temptation. This verse DOES NOT say that we will never find ourselves in places that are overwhelming or too much for our own strength.
In fact, in 2 Cor 1:8-11, Paul talks about the severe trials he had experienced in Turkey, so overwhelming that he and the others being persecuted wanted to give up entirely. But he says these circumstances taught him to lose faith in himself and place all of his trust in the God who raises the dead. I find it interesting that Paul references God’s miraculous resurrections in this case—in other words, nothing (not even death) is too much for God.
Have you ever found yourself in a place that seemed too much for you to handle? Maybe it’s physical illness, or incredible work stress, or financial loss and insecurity, or emotional rollercoasters of relationships, or the idols of coping like addiction, or the repercussions of trauma, or feeling stuck and unable to get any traction in life. I’m feeling overwhelmed just listing these and thinking of people in each of these situations.
