• Posted on January 21, 2013

Status

Hey, readers.

Up front I’d like to apologize to anyone who signed up for my email feeds, as for some reason the Internet decided to email you a very old post.

My blog, FB page, and basically everything else have been dormant while I scramble to catch up in my daily life. I’m not closed off to blogging–and in fact have been periodically working on another writing project, but I haven’t felt impressed the time was right to once again focus on my blogging.

Last Friday, about five minutes to the end of my quiet time, I suddenly thought I should write a blog. I quickly wrote one out, posted it, and rushed to get ready for work.

While showering I thought back to the post and realized, somewhat ashamedly, that the post made no sense. Afterward I deleted the blog and any mention of the blog. Still, Feedburner seems to have a mind of its own and emailed the blog out to subscribers that evening.

So. All that to say, I’m leaving the blog and FB page up indefinitely, because I know God isn’t yet finished telling me to write. But he’s not telling me to write right now.

Also, for anyone who has commented on the blog in the past 5-6 months, my commenting system has stopped notifying me of comments, so what a surprise to read yours! I would love to respond to you when I can.

In the meantime, I’ll just be living life as always, trying to keep up, and gleaning as much insight from God as I can.

Much love,

R, etc.

  • Posted on July 12, 2012

In Spite of You

 


Micah 6:8 has been looping in my head lately, to the point of tattoo obsession: “What does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (NIV). This verse wouldn’t have come as a surprise to the Israelites. It was a reminder that all their focus on offering sacrifices was moot if they weren’t following God on a moment-by-moment basis. For us, it’s a lovely reminder that following Christ isn’t a weekly Sunday church thing or a daily morning Quiet Time thing, but rather an all-the-time, in-everything thing. Our select sacrifices of our time and money to God aren’t what he requires of us. He wants us to be just, and merciful, and humble.

This is about the same thing you’ve heard a million times before, right?

Here’s the problem with it: You’re not doing it. You’re not fighting for justice. You’re not showing mercy in love. And you’re not humbly walking out your faith. I’ve noticed it and everyone around you has noticed it. Those Facebook stories you post, those emails you forward, those tirades you go on, those snide comments you make under your breath, those offensive jokes you tell everyone in the room, those sneers on your face–they’re all character witnesses of hatred testifying against you as a follower of Christ.

But here’s what really sucks about all this: I do it too. Like almost all lessons God teaches me, when he opens my eyes to the faults of those around me, it’s usually to point out those same faults in myself.

God taught me all about showing grace, and I was getting pretty darn good at it. Until, that is, I ran into someone who refused to show grace to others. Not just one person–I know entire communities built on showing grace only to those people they believe deserve it. I hit a wall. I was filled with furious, semi-righteous anger. I wanted to shake them and lecture them about how grace, by definition, isn’t deserved, and that we, as believers, are commanded to show grace and what they’re doing isn’t showing grace but merely picking and choosing who to help based on who fits into their pretty little microcosm of the world. (Because I use run-ons when I angrily shake people and lecture them.)

And God said, as usual, “Well, then lecture yourself too.”

If grace is, by definition, not deserved, who could deserve grace less than people who refuse to show it?

If spite of–and perhaps because of–your refusal to show grace or mercy or love, I must show you grace and mercy and love all the more.

I’m being completely honest here when I say I am still trying to work through this and figure out how to do these things. Because it’s hard. But how can I expect something of you that I’m unwilling to do myself?

In spite of you, I must act justly–toward you.

In spite of you, I must love mercy–and show it to you.

In spite of you, I must walk humbly–before you.

This is not about me and my personal offense at the things you do. This isn’t actually about you, either.

Micah 6:8 is a reactive verse, but it’s not reactive from me to you: it’s reactive from me to God. I do not focus on acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly because you do or don’t deserve these things from me. I focus on these things because I love the Lord my God with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my strength, and this is how I live that out.

God, remind me that this isn’t about me or anyone else. Remind me that all of this is about you, and how worthy you are to receive our lives as daily sacrifices for you. Let your Holy Spirit fill me with mercy that it will overflow on those around me. Please be quick to stop me when I act out of selfishness, injustice, or hatred. Thank you for your infinite patience with us. 

What can we do to show grace to those who refuse to show it? How can we love mercy on a moment-by-moment basis?

  • Posted on July 03, 2012

Why I Choose to Gossip

 

Spoiler alert to the title of this post: The reason I gossip is pride. Pride and a paralyzing need for affirmation. It’s easy to see, hard to admit, and impossible to correct with the grace of God. And even with God’s prodding and poking and threshing and teaching, I give in to the allure of pride-induced gossip over and over again.

You probably know the feeling. You’re in the middle of a conversation and suddenly a person’s name is mentioned. Maybe you brought it up, maybe someone else did. But it’s like the gunshot at the beginning of a sprint because you’ve got dirt on this person. This person did something horrendous to you. Even though everyone with whom you’ve ever had a conversation in the last three years knows what this person did to you, it’s worth mentioning again. Because you’re the good guy here. And people are sympathetic when they know what you’ve been through. They admire your perseverance and forgiveness.

It sounds a lot like this:

“Oh, that doesn’t surprise me after the way he treated me. Did I tell you about that? About how one time…” 

Maybe the person didn’t do anything directly to you, but his actions have been just appalling lately. And by “appalling” I mean “juicy.”

“Oh, you mean Name? Yeah, he totally cheats on his wife. He drinks a lot too.” And then the feigned pity over the loved ones who are presumably ignorant of Name’s dealings. “I feel so sorry for her. After all she does for him, to have him running around on her like that? She deserves better.”

And maybe she does deserve better, but in that moment the amount you actually give a damn about her is 5%. The other 95% is the implication you would never cheat on your spouse and you don’t drink anymore and your husband should be happy to have a wonderful, faithful, perfect spouse like you. It would save everyone a lot of time if you’d just say, “Look how bad that person is! Look how great I am!”

Then there’s the person you really love, bless his heart, but he’s just not living up to your standards. Which is good, because it gives you something to talk about.

“So, have you talked to Name lately? You know what he’s doing nowadays? I mean, I love him, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that he’s going down the wrong path. We really need to focus on praying for God to reveal himself to Name, because he isn’t listening to anyone else.”

That’s a classic Church Person trick, turning gossip into a prayer request.

But the really crafty and creative and audacious can pull off the “pretend I’m the one that needs prayer when we all know it’s the other guy” conversation (which, by the way, is my typical go-to).

“I need you to pray for me, because I’m really struggling with Name. He did this one thing yesterday and then again today, and I can’t seem to deal with that anger. I’m really praying about whether or not to say something to him. I know lost people will act lost, but it’s so hard to show grace to him, you know? I just need prayer.”

It sounds funny, right? But it’s not. And every time I enter into one of these conversations wanting people to affirm that I’m right and justified and entitled and oh, so mistreated, or that I’m admirable and respectful and dog-gone-it, just a nice girl, I end up feeling affirmed by people but not so affirmed by God.

Every time I go searching for something to scratch my itch for pride, I end up feeling ashamed instead.

My mouth, big as it may be, is not the issue. My heart is the issue. “For whatever is in your heart determines what you say. A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart. And I tell you this, you must give an account on judgment day for every idle word you speak. The words you say will either acquit or condemn you” (Matthew 12:34-37).

What I say will either acquit or condemn me. That doesn’t mean I won’t get into heaven if my gossip meter is higher than my praise meter, but it does mean gossip reveals what’s truly in my heart. I can vow not to choose gossip, but as long as I care more about myself and my image than God and his image, I’ll choose gossip, time and time again.

I do not know how to end this post, mainly because gossip is still a constant struggle for me. I do know that my heart has to change before my mouth can change. I do know that God has convicted me of this specific sin in my life and only he can make it right.

God, I know I need a heart adjustment. When I’m tempted to gossip, please pull my eyes to you. Remind me that I’m a sinner, no better than those I choose to gossip about. Remind me that my worth is solely in you, not in others’ opinions of me.

How has God convicted you of gossip and pride in your lives lately?

  • Posted on June 29, 2012

The Art of Being Threshed

 

I know nothing about farming or planting or plowing or tilling (that’s a thing, right?). I know I love irises and roses are okay. I know I use cumin in Amber’s guacamole recipe and I think there’s some wheat in the bread on my sandwich, but that’s about all I’ve got with plants and crops and such.

Probably this is why I never paid much attention to Isaiah 28:24-29 until this past week when God guided my focus to it:

“Does a farmer always plow and never sow? Is he forever cultivating the soil and never planting? Does he not finally plant his seeds–black cumin, cumin, wheat, barley, and emmer wheat–each in its proper way, and each in its proper place? …A heavy sledge is never used to thresh black cumin; rather, it is beaten with a light stick. A threshing wheel is never rolled on cumin; instead, it is beaten lightly with a flail. Grain for bread is easily crushed, so he doesn’t keep on pounding it. He threshes it under the wheels of a cart, but he doesn’t pulverize it. The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is a wonderful teacher, and he gives the farmer great wisdom.”

This time God stopped me and pointed out several key ideas in the passage:

1. God knows how we need to be threshed. A farmer would know, courtesy of God, how to handle each seed. He would know where to plant it, in just the right time and place, for maximum growth. He would know how to cultivate it for the greatest possible return. Like a good farmer, God knows how to plant us. He knows where to plant us and in what time to plant us. We can rest in knowing if we’re here in 2012 it’s because God wanted us to be alive here in 2012. He also knows how to cultivate us and thresh us for the greatest possible return. He knows when we will be tried and tested and broken, and he knows how that cultivation will grow us for him.

2. Threshing doesn’t always feel very good. Several times since walking with Christ, I’ve hit major roadblocks. I’m talking about specific moments amidst life-changing events when I had to consciously decide whether I was going to let God take over or keep trying on my own. Times like those, the threshing hurts. It feels like he’s pulverizing me or pounding me and crushing me under the weight of the world. But all along, he knows exactly how much weight and what method of cultivation I need at just that moment to strengthen my faith in him.

3. God knows how others need to be threshed. God may use a heavy sledge on me when he’s using a light stick on you. He may roll the threshing wheel on you while taking it easy on me. He may show mercy to me while he’s chastising you, and he may stop me while he allows you to move freely forward. In moments like the roadblocks mentioned above it’s hard not to look at others’ lives and be envious or angry or even smug. But who is the wheat to ask the farmer why he’s not threshing it the way he threshes the cumin?

4. Threshing is necessary. The process of threshing is to remove the necessary and useful part of the seed from the no longer useful covering and other parts of the seed. As long as we’re on this earth, we’re going to have some unnecessary parts and distractions that need to be pulled away from us so we can focus on God. This isn’t the only time God’s people are compared to crops in the Bible. Remember the slightly more famous analogy in Matthew 3:12? “He is ready to separate the chaff from the wheat with his winnowing fork.” God is constantly threshing us, constantly separating us from the chaff and pulling away sins and distractions in our lives so we can grow stronger in him.

How has God threshed you recently? How has God’s threshing caused you pain? How has God’s threshing brought you joy?

  • Posted on June 26, 2012

Work, Struggle, Rinse, Repeat

 

When things start falling apart or wilting in my life, I get a little obsessive Rain Man-10-minutes-to-Wapner-like in my head with one verse in particular. You can find it in 1 Timothy 4:10: ”This is why we work hard and continue to struggle, for our hope is in the living God, who is the Savior of all people and particularly of all believers.”

Unfortunately the part of the verse that loops endlessly in my mind is the first part, and I end up coaching myself with, “work hard and continue to struggle, work hard and continue to struggle.” It’s a mantra to drive myself to take the next step and the next step. That’s great, right?

Not really. All of the verse is powerful, but if I’m going to focus on a small part, I’m focusing on the wrong small part. The part I should recite to myself is, “OUR HOPE IS IN THE LIVING GOD, OUR HOPE IS IN THE LIVING GOD.” (All caps, because I literally want to yell it, I get so excited.)

If I batten down the hatches and white knuckle the issue while reciting “work hard and continue to struggle,” my hope is not in the Living God. My hope is in me. My hope is that I can grit my teeth and make it through the situation with enough determination and recitation. My hope is that hard work will pull me through. My hope is that I’m strong enough, or determined enough, or can-outlast-the-enemy enough to survive.

Living a Christian life isn’t easy. It does require hard work and struggles, and we can’t downplay that. The Greek for “work hard” in this case means to toil to the point of exhaustion. And “continue to struggle” refers to warfare or intense athletic contest with a strong adversary.

But this adversary isn’t a situation or a person or a minor inconvenience or a bad habit. The adversary is Satan. And he waits until we’ve toiled until the point of exhaustion and he attacks. He engages us in very real, very serious warfare.

It’s foolish to think a girl like me who whines for her husband to kill the cockroach in the bathtub could fare well against an adversary like the devil, even with gritted teeth and set jaw and a memory verse stuck in her head.

Praise Jesus that at the end of the day, my ability to work hard and struggle through each obstacle will not be my Savior. Praise God that he, the Living God, is the Savior for me and for all people.

Where is your hope? How has God taught you to put your hope in him?