When You Have Everything and Nothing

Every so often I reread the Chronicles of Narnia. Why? They're kids' books, right? Well, I have adored them since childhood, but I can honestly say I get much more out of them as an adult. C.S. Lewis said, "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." Using that logic, Narnia must be listed among the very best of children's literature.

Narnia fans all seem to have a favorite, one that particularly speaks to their heart. For my husband, it's The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. He loves Eustace, the boy who becomes a dragon and can only become a boy again through an encounter with Aslan, the Great Lion. This reminds my husband of his own healing journey. For me, it's The Silver Chair. Its overarching theme of being freed from darkness and spiritual bondage resonates strongly within me. But last night I was reading the final book of the series, The Last Battle, when something struck me anew. The events center around the last days of the Kingdom of Narnia as a conniving ape sets the end of all things in motion through the manipulation and deception of the kingdom's citizens, some of whom have been coerced into slavery. The ape tries to deny that the humble Narnians have been sold into bondage by assuring these changes are for everyone's benefit.

There! You see!...It's all arranged. And all for your own good. We'll be able, with the money you earn, to make Narnia a country worth living in. There'll be oranges and bananas pouring in -- and roads and big cities and schools and offices and whips and muzzles and saddles and cages and kennels and prisons -- Oh everything!

The first to respond is a wise old bear, who immediately sees the folly of such an idea. But we don't want all those things...We want to be free. And we want to hear Aslan speak. The ape's rebuke is swift, calling him a "fat, stupid old Bear."

The ape's words feel eerily apt in today's world. We have everything, don't we? Good and bad, it's all available to us -- all manner of things to occupy our time, energy, and passions. And yet, how many of us feel content? How many of us feel free?

The old bear is the only one brave enough to speak what he knows in his heart. Freedom's value far exceeds that of worldly 'progress'. It is possible to have everything and yet have nothing of lasting value. Do you ever feel like nothing in this world truly satisfies? Do you wonder who clipped your wings or where your sense of adventure has gone? Do you sometimes ask yourself if the entire world has gone mad?

But what can be done? Isn't that just life? I love that last part of the old bear's statement. And we want to hear Aslan speak. In our hearts, we long to hear someone speak truth, to put everything in its proper place. But too often all we hear is noise. And the noise can sound a lot like the conniving ape, hurling accusations in our faces -- telling us we're not entitled to an opinion or we're not seeing things clearly. But in our hearts we know. We know there is something else, something solid, something true.

The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is majestic. The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars...He makes Lebanon leap like a calf.

Psalm  29:4-6

Freedom is too precious to discard in exchange for any perceived peripheral benefit. And yet, we humans are terribly good at enslaving ourselves. There are so very many ways to enslave ourselves, too! Addictions, greed, political systems, religious legalism, co-dependance, unforgiveness, hatred, judgment, fear -- the list is inexhaustible. But we were created for freedom. And we were created for relationship. Not just any relationship, but one in which we can hear the voice of truth -- the voice of love. When we begin to hear this voice, we begin to experience freedom.

Ask God what he wants to say to you today. Let him speak the words that shatter lies and break chains. Let him fill the emptiness with the substance of his love. I promise his voice is stronger than the voices of chaos and confusion that are given so much latitude today. And his words NEVER lead to bondage.







Photo credit: Ray Grau

My Heart Breaks for Greta Thunberg

We've all seen her this week. The young woman, a girl really, who is passionately fighting climate change. Many have praised her for her vision and courage. Others have criticized her for taking a place that she is not yet experienced enough to have earned. Those who have given her that pedestal, everyone from world leaders to her own parents, have perhaps in equal parts received both accolades and derision. The only thing this makes me feel is sadness.

I'm not writing this to make any sort of statement about climate change. (Can we all just agree to take better care of our planet?) I'm writing this because my heart hurts for this young woman. Many have noted that Greta has Asperger's Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, as well as Selective Mutism. When I read that, it was the OCD that jumped off the page at me. As someone who has struggled with severe OCD, I know that there is a lot of misunderstanding about what this disorder actually is. It doesn't mean you are "particular" about certain things. It doesn't mean that you like to organize closets or straighten picture frames. And it isn't a funny little quirk.

The National Institute of Mental Health describes OCD as a "chronic and long-lasting disorder in which a person has uncontrollable, reoccurring thoughts (obsessions) and behaviors (compulsions) that he or she feels the urge to repeat over and over." Generally, these obsessions are fear-based, and Greta seems to be driven greatly by fear. 

I can't imagine what it would have been like if, in the midst of the irrational thoughts being driven by my OCD, there was no one to come alongside me and gently say, "It's not really as bad as all that. It's going to be okay." I needed that assurance. I needed to be tethered to reality. To be trapped in my own uncontrollable and unending fear-cycle with no one to speak peace or hope into my heart sounds like a living Hell. My heart breaks for Greta.

Her words to world leaders in Davos speak volumes. I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. I had those days too, Greta. I wanted people around me to recognize and understand what I was feeling. On one level, I believed that if others acknowledged my fears, if they felt what I felt, I would feel less alone, less (dare I use the word) crazy. But at the same time, that was not what I needed. I needed people to come by my side and speak life and love to me -- to NOT agree with my panicked, fear-wrought thoughts of disaster and death. I would never have wanted to be thrust onto a pedestal in the midst of my illness, and I have a hard time seeing how this can be healing for Greta.

Oh Greta, I feel your pain. I really do. How it eats you from the inside out. How it compels you to act. How it leaves you feeling trapped. And I want you to know freedom. 

But more fear is not what the world needs -- and it's not what will heal you either, Greta. The world is a mess in so many ways, but fear can never be the answer. We need to dig deeper and find the hope that we carry within; and yes, I know that you've said you don't want our hope. But that's no way to live. The human heart withers when bound by fear. We need to receive and lavishly spread the one thing that is life-giving. There is no substitute for LOVE. It is the thing that gives hope. And I pray, Greta, that you would experience the perfect love that casts out fear. May your heart and mind be free.

An Invitation to Fullness

Beautiful friend,

Do you feel empty? Are you lonely? Have you experienced loss? Are you walking through grief? Do you feel like something is missing, but you don't know what? Does the inside of you ache for more?

Every one of us can answer yes to at least one of these questions at some point in our lives. It's part of being human. We can't avoid pain and heartache. But we also don't have to face it alone. Today my heart aches for you to know that emptiness is never God's will for us.

Just months before I became a Christian, I sat in my dorm room window staring out into a rainy night at the lights of a Walgreen's parking lot. I felt completely empty. Cold. Just weeks into my freshman year, I'd contracted an unusually severe case of mono which had left me sliding in and out of consciousness in a hospital room just off campus. No one knew I was there. I was 18, so the hospital did not bother to notify my parents for several days. Following my hospitalization, I spent a month at home recuperating. Upon returning to school, I felt completely alone. Campus life had gone on without me. My new sorority had held dances, overnights, and other bonding events. I had missed out. I had no real connections with anyone. What was I even doing there? I certainly didn't know a god who could meet my needs. How many of us have had those moments? And maybe it's a lot longer than a moment.

This morning as I sat on my patio reading and journaling, I was struck by the number of times the word fullness is found in scripture. When I suddenly notice a particular word jumping out at me, I know it's time to stop and ponder its significance.

As I dug further, Ephesians 1:23 really grabbed me. Paul refers to the Church as the fullness of him who fills everything in every way. Well, my experience of the Body of Christ hasn't always felt like this. At its worst, it felt like a bunch of empty, hurting people puffing themselves up by sucking the life out of everyone around them. Not surprisingly, this left me unengaged and licking my numerous wounds. Maybe this has been your experience. Maybe you ran away from the Church because the very people who were supposed to love you were the same ones who kicked you in the teeth. Who could blame you for running away? Who could blame you for feeling empty and let down? Your experience inside the Church shouldn't leave you feeling like I did sitting in that dorm room window -- cold and alone.

And yet, as part of the Body of Christ, we are supposed to experience fullness. The problem is that the Church so rarely embodies the love that is God himself. Many of us who cut ourselves off from the Church also cut ourselves off from God. We may find ourselves asking how good God could actually be if the people who supposedly follow him are a bunch of creeps. But friend, don't let the failures of other humans be the reason for removing yourself from the One who is love, the One who wants to fill you.

God calls us to live in community -- and He himself IS community -- Father, Son, Holy Spirit. His is a community of perfect love and fullness, and it is this community into which we are called. This is the place from which we are to live. The more we live from this place, the more we are able to carry this love to those around us -- to expand this community of love right here on earth. When we are full, others benefit from the overflow. We get to be a vessel of his love, filling those around us. And this is what the Church should look like -- a place where the empty can come to be filled.

You see, we love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19)  If we don't allow ourselves to be filled with his love, we can't possibly love others well. So much of the Church doesn't know it is loved! So many Christians are stuck at the cross, digging their heels in and refusing to step into resurrection. Friends, the cross is the place where we leave our sins, our burdens, our garbage. We aren't meant to stay there wallowing in our own filth. We are meant to leave all the junk behind so that we can be filled. Filled with love, from which flows joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.

Maybe you belong to a church where this is a reality. I rejoice with you! If not, I encourage you to let God be the one to fill you and then carry that love back into your hurting church. Bring forgiveness and hope. Bring encouragement and humility. When you feel empty or dry, go right back to your heavenly Father and ask for more. He is always willing for you to be full. This is the only way to see a Church that is healed and whole. And the hurting world very much needs a healed Church right now.

Will you accept the invitation?


Photo credit: Fred Moon

Being a victim is real...but so is victory

Have you ever thought about the words victim and victory? I find it interesting that they both have the root v-i-c-t. Stick with me while I get all nerdy on you for a second. Victim comes from the Latin word victima, which means "person or animal killed as a sacrifice." The actual origin of the word victima is uncertain, but I'll stand with the great poet Ovid who notes its similarity to the word victus,  meaning "conquered or defeated." On the flip side, we see that victory comes from the Latin word victoria, which is derived from vincere, meaning "to overcome, conquer."

We all have experiences in our lives when we are victims. We may find ourselves on the receiving end of an act of violence, or we may be harmed by circumstances beyond our control. Many of us have scars, physical and emotional, that remind us of these events. Having spent nearly half a century on this earth, I have my fair share of visible and invisible scars. The one on my left hand is from a hiking accident in which our entire family came much too close to being struck by lightning. The ones on my right hand are from a man siccing his dog on me as I attempted to deliver voter registration information to his door. I have another, that most won't see, from a lumpectomy. And then there's the one between my eyes from when I did a header down the stairs at 18-months-old. Scars are indeed reminders, but what they allow us to remember depends upon our perspective.

Jesus is the perfect example of a victim. He was, quite literally, a human sacrifice. He did not in any way deserve his fate. And yet, he died in the most horrific way possible. I've always found it interesting that he bore his scars even after his resurrection. Those scars validate his story. They attest not just to his brutal death, but to the power of his resurrection. He suffered, and his suffering was real. But his triumph is real, too!

Think about Thomas' reaction in John 20:25 to being told that Jesus is alive. Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. The physical scars are the evidence that what Jesus did was real. He wasn't some ghost having a bit of a laugh with the disciples. He overcame the impossible. Jesus is not only the perfect victim, he is also the perfect victor. He overcame death, not just for himself, but for all of us.

My scars are also the validation of my story and God's place in it. God rescued my family from the face of a mountain during a ferocious storm. Being attacked by a dog was traumatic, but the event led directly to me getting a wonderful job. The lumpectomy scar reminds me of a time when I felt God's peace so deeply that I couldn't experience fear. This is where I choose to focus when I see my scars. When we understand that our scars are merely temporal, whereas Jesus' victory is eternal, the scars take on a different significance, pointing us to triumph.

Show the world those scars. Don't let them be a source of shame, and don't pretend they don't exist. They are part of your story. But don't forget that Jesus' story didn't end with those scars and neither does yours! You have a choice. Victim was never meant to be your identity. I love what Lisa Bevere says. "We need to stop being the professionally wounded."

So will you be conquered, or will you conquer? Do you choose to remain a victim or do you choose to become a victor? It's okay if that victory takes time. Even Jesus spent three days in the grave. Lazarus spent four. Go easy on yourself, the timeframe is in God's hands. I promise that your heavenly Father will be with you in the waiting, providing comfort and leading you on toward that place of triumph, if you'll let him. Are you willing to let your scars tell a different story? Are you willing to trust that your story is not over? Your resurrection is closer than you think, and I'm cheering you on.

Photo credit: Brian Patrick Tagalog

Got Oxygen?

I recently came home from Madagascar, and as often happens on these trips, I arrived home with a lovely bug. I rarely get stomach ailments, but respiratory stuff is my Achilles heel, and this trip was no exception. I'd started the trip on the tail end of a throat infection for which I'd been taking antibiotics, but it seemed like I never really got over it. I pushed through the trip with a backpack full of Advil and cough drops; but poor air quality, little rest, and the onset of a cold left me feeling like, well...where's the poop emoji when you need it?

I spent all of last week trying my darnedest to get well, but there's only so much Throat Coat tea you can consume before you need to suck it up and go back to the doctor. So Friday morning, I reluctantly dragged myself over to the doctor hoping I wasn't wasting her time.

I've been asthmatic my whole life but really have not had any serious breathing issues for the last several years. And praise God for that! Nevertheless, I know what an asthma attack feels like, and I generally know when I need to go to the emergency room. So I was kind of stunned when the nurse stuck the pulse ox monitor on my finger and it showed that my oxygen saturation looked more like that of a lifelong coal miner. The nurse and I both looked at the screen with our heads cocked to one side and uttered a collective hmmm.

The doctor listened to my lungs and confirmed that my infection was aggravating my asthma, so I left the office with another round of antibiotics and some good old steroids. Now, nothing about this scenario was new for me except that this time I had absolutely no idea how sick I was. How on earth did I not know that I was getting about the same amount of oxygen as someone on a high altitude hike? Well, that would certainly explain something about my energy level.

Friends, how often in our spiritual lives are we getting by on so much less than we really need? We tell ourselves we're fine, that we just need to tough it out, and we continue to walk through each day feeling tired and depleted and maybe more than a little grumpy. We don't even realize that we're not really breathing, at least not freely. We get used to functioning on so much less than what is available to us. Living on less becomes normal. But this is not the way it's supposed to be.

My friend Niki Hardy has a new book aptly titled Breathe Again coming out in August. I had the opportunity to read an advance copy, and it's a wonderful read. It made me wonder how many of us feel like we can't catch a breath -- like life has knocked the wind out of us and we just can't recover. I know I've been there, and not just with the way I'm feeling physically right now. Let's be honest. Life can suck sometimes. And sometimes there is absolutely nothing we can do to make our circumstances any better. But even in the midst of pain and struggle, there is a source of life-giving breath -- the spiritual oxygen we need.

God isn't waiting for you to toughen up and sort things out. He never told anyone to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. He gets no pleasure from seeing you struggle day after day. He isn't like that. Let me say that again -- he is NOT like that. If your day finds you lying on the kitchen floor literally begging for mercy and asking where God is, that's okay. He's happy to meet you right there on the kitchen floor. How do I know? Because I've been there. Several years ago, in the midst of chronic illness, I finally reached a place where I couldn't hold on with my own strength. I was suffocating under fear and anxiety. But when I let go, I discovered that God was right there to catch me, to breathe life back into me. It didn't make the pain instantly disappear, but it allowed me to look up -- to look at the one who sustains me, to draw my strength from him. He is the one who gives "life and breath and everything else" (Acts 17:25), so thinking I was going to sort things out through my own positive thinking or strong will was inevitably going to fail.

If you're feeling depleted and defeated, let me encourage you. There is one who wants to breathe life back into you, to give you oxygen. There is one who doesn't want you to walk this path alone. There is one who calls you to look up.

There's been one song stuck in my head all week, and it's a great one. Lauren Daigle's "Look Up Child" has such a great message, so as far as earworms go, I'll take it. But have you heard the poem that was inspired by the song, written by Channell Warren at Folsom Prison? I hope this encourages you to look up today.

Lauren Daigle - Folsom Prison (02.24.19)

Expecting the Unexpected

Yesterday our family visited a church community in Sakaraha, Madagascar, with whom we have developed a special relationship over the past seven years. My husband was given the opportunity to preach, and perhaps because he was a little surprised to be preaching that morning, he talked about how with God we can expect the unexpected. 

It got me thinking about how I deal with the unexpected and what sort of expectations I have for God to act. What about you? Do unexpected events or schedule changes throw you for a loop? Do you stress over the what ifs of life?

The more time we’ve spent in the mission field, the more I’ve learned to roll with the unexpected. I remember my high school French teacher saying, “Travel, even at its best, is always a hassle.” I love to travel, but these are wise words to keep in mind. I find them to be especially true in the developing world where there always seems to be a curve ball coming your way. There are times when I still don’t handle sudden change as well as I’d like, but I’ve learned that some apparent misfortunes can actually be blessings, if we’re willing to see them.

A few years ago, we were scheduled to fly from the capital of Madagascar for ten days of ministry in the southwestern city of Toliara. We love our visits to the south and were looking forward to reuniting with friends and visiting our favorite pizza place. I know, nobody thinks of pizza when they think of Madagascar, but seriously, this place is the BEST. And did I mention the gelato?  But I digress. 

A few days before our scheduled flight, Air Madagascar went on strike. Nobody knew how long the strike would last, but we needed to quickly come up with Plan B. When it became clear that there was a solid zero percent chance our flight would actually depart, we prayed and took a leap of faith. We booked a car and driver and began a three day journey south, through the heart of Madagascar. We knew people who had done the trip. We had heard stories of adventure and peril but weren’t quite sure what to realistically expect. 

Could we trust our driver to find us safe food along the route? (I’m pretty adventurous, but typhoid fever is not high on my list of things I want to experience.) Where on earth would we be sleeping? Would Air Madagascar, affectionately referred to as Air Maybe, be able to bring us home or ever give us our money back? Well, we’d find out one way or another.

The long trip south, along with the high probability that we would have to make the same journey back, cut significantly into the time we had planned to be in Toliara. We were somewhat frustrated and disappointed, but we focused on the excitement of the unknown.

Crammed into the backseat with two teenagers on a twisty, washboard of a road, I was sure my back would never be the same again. As we crossed bridges that appeared less than structurally sound, we joked about what the headlines in our local paper would read after our car plummeted into a rice paddy. (Yes, everyone in our family shares a somewhat dark sense of humor.) We also listened  to U2, lots of U2.

Eventually, we arrived unscathed at our destination. We’d lost a few days in Toliara, but we had gained so much on the journey. We saw parts of the country we never imagined we would have the opportunity to see. Every mountain pass provided a new breathtaking vista. We caught glimpses of the quotidian rhythm of dozens of Malagasy villages. We even saw a couple funeral processions, which in Madagascar are boisterous celebrations.

As the airline strike continued, and we realized we would need to make the same trip in reverse, we actually looked forward to it. We wished we could take more unexpected detours. The journey had developed in us a deeper love for this amazing country and her hospitable people. God had transformed an annoying turn of events into something beautiful.

Certainly, there are unexpected events that nobody welcomes. A diagnosis of cancer, a tragic car accident, the loss of a job, or the discovery of marital infidelity will turn anyone’s world upside down. But even in these moments, we can live with expectation for God to intervene with hope, healing and comfort. And it is often through the worst unexpected events that God’s hope shines the brightest. 

His ability to intervene in unexpected ways can instantly shatter darkness and bring about resurrection, both literal and figurative. Just think of Lazarus. Nobody, least of all his sisters, expected his illness to result in death followed by a literal resurrection four days later. I promise you they never saw that coming. But WOW! Can you imagine?

Our God is full of surprises. He loves to intervene in unexpected ways. And no, it probably won’t look anything like what you imagined. The journey may require patience, perseverance and courage. It may find you asking some really hard questions and wondering if you’ll ever reach the end of the road, or at least an oasis along the way.

But what if our faith in God’s ability to do the unexpected was greater than our fear of the unknown? What if, when faced with frustrating or disheartening challenges, we waited in eager expectation for God to act. What if we knew that his love for us  actually leaves no room for fear? Friends, that begins to look a whole lot like freedom!

Why I'm Done with Principles

Is it just me or does it seem like everyone wants to be told how to live? We want principles for everything. We want the best how-to advice money can buy. We devour books with titles like 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and 30 Life Principles. There are countless bestsellers that instruct us on how to live our best lives, be our best selves. We are told that we need to have zeal and passion. We need to eat right, pray more, work more efficiently, take our fitness to the next level, practice mindfulness, raise amazing kids, reduce our carbon footprint AND declutter our homes. (Forgive me if I just rolled my eyes.) The list of things we “must” do is never-ending. Many of these well-meaning books are directed at a Christian audience, and I’m sure some of them contain nuggets of wisdom that have been a catalyst for life improvement.

But I’ve come to a place in my life where I’m done with self-help principles. You see, I’ve spent most of my life living from my head. I’ve always wanted to “get it right” and have it all figured out. Self-help books are great for that. But the problem is that I no longer want to “figure it out." I’ve spent far too much energy making sure I’ve checked all the right boxes to be a good mom, a good wife, a good Christian. But following Jesus has absolutely nothing to do with checking boxes. He doesn’t ask us to have it all figured out, and our mental assent is not really what he’s after. He's after our hearts. Period.

Sure, our thoughts matter. Dwelling on the negative is never a helpful practice. Scripture tells us "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things." (Philippians 4:8) Of course, I agree. But in my experience, my thoughts are something over which I have very little control. One moment I can be patting myself on the back for cooking a dinner that everyone in the house will eat (Now that is an accomplishment. Am I right?) and the next moment I’m beating myself up for forgetting to schedule my kids’ physicals and there are no appointments available for six months. Have you been there? Bad mom accusations are particularly easy to hurl at ourselves.

But a good parent, citizen, spouse, friend, teacher, chef, rocket scientist...(fill in the blank) should be more organized, supportive, assertive, creative, badass, awake...(fill in the blank). Blech! I’m never going to be perfect, and neither are you. But I AM enough...and so are you!

So how are we supposed to live? Humor helps. And so does love. When we become secure in our identity as beloved children of God, so much of that other junk begins to fall away. Do you think God is really judging you because you got frustrated with your kids and ate an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s? Nope. We may need to ask for forgiveness when our frustration boils over toward our loved ones, but God’s grace is a lot bigger than our weaknesses. And if God doesn’t judge us in the messiness of life, we shouldn’t judge ourselves either.

God knows I’ve tried...to be the best. The best student, musician, employee, writer, boss, event planner, mom...and on and on. All I ended up with was an obsessive compulsive disorder. No joke! And living by someone’s helpful principles didn’t help me escape from that living hell.

Let me set the record straight. No amount of striving is ever going to bring you peace. You can’t fix problems that are rooted in your own heart. But God can! So give yourself a break. Go easy on yourself and go easy on others. Most of us are doing the best we can. Give yourself and those you love space for God to enter into the cracks. Let love come into the dark corners. That’s where change happens. That's where our minds are renewed.

Your worth has nothing to do with your accomplishments. Your true identity is rooted in another who is perfect, and he knows you better than you know yourself. You are completely unique, which is why no blueprint of what solved someone else's problems is ever going to solve all of yours. Only God knows the right path for you. But you have to trust him. The more you let him take hold of you, the more healing you will receive -- the more you will begin to exude his love. And in the meantime, just take a breath. Let your journey be your own. It’s okay to sit in the mess. Love takes time.