Thanks in All Things

This one makes my heart so tender, it almost hurts.

"Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus"

(1 Thessalonians 5:18).

I've read and heard these words plenty of times, but coming from my 2-year old, they penetrate my heart in a new way.

Aila is pretty good at saying "thank you." Thanks when I put her breakfast in front of her. Thanks when I help her get something she can't reach. Thanks when she's stuck and I "undo" her.

But then there are her thanks over unpleasant things--to the extent I've not seen before in a child. Like when she had something sprayed into her face and I had to flush her eyes out repeatedly for 10 minutes. And as I doused her head over and over and over, she kept saying, "Sank you, Mommy" over and over and over. Or when I took her to go get her vaccinations, and even as we held her down, she tearfully cried out, "Sank you, Mommy." Or when I'm cleaning her skinned up knees with something that I know will help (but stings like the dickens)..."Sank you, Mommy."

It hurts my heart even to revisit these moments, because they all involve my little girl hurting in one way or another. But each of these moments also involve a parent putting a child through these things for her own good. And that her mouth would be filled with thanks in the midst of it SPEAKS VOLUMES TO ME about the thanks that should be in my mouth for the One who allows things--even those things that make it hard to say those grateful words--because they're for my good and His glory.

Thank You for provision

Thank You for help

Thank You for disciplining me

Thank You for redemption

Thank You for disappointment

Thank You for joy

Thank You for pain

Thank You, Lord. In all things, thank You.

Agenda

"I love you sooo much, Mommy!" (Cue the batting eyelashes...)

Now, under any other circumstance, hearing this would mean everything to me. But today I knew Trevor's words were laced with ulterior motives.

He expressed his affections for me, hoping I would take him to see the trains.

I wanted to simply focus on his words, but I knew his heart wasn't in them like it is at other times. This time he had an agenda in cozying up to me.
I've been there before, too--in that place of coming with flattering words and an agenda. I come before my Heavenly Father with words of lavish praise, but I'm simply trying to butter up the Creator of the universe to pave the way for my impending requests.

It's not like my flattery will increase His love for me, or will warrant His favor resting on me. And just as I don't want Trevor using seemed affection to get me to do what he wants, I can't imagine it sits well with my God when I leverage my praise to get the only wise God to do what I want.

And I think that while He bids me to come and tells me to ask, He wants my affections when I'm bringing Him a laundry list of needs, and when I'm broken, and when I'm thankful, and when I'm at a crossroads, and when I have no other agenda than to say YOU ARE MY GOD and I just plain love you so much." Free of agenda, I love You, Lord.

It's All About the Atmosphere

Creating an atmosphere.

Today I was nodding off in the car on the way home from church. I think I'd just hit a wall of exhaustion. So I came home, turned a noisy fan on full blast, closed the blinds, pulled the covers up over my head and was out like a light within moments of hitting the pillow.

A few hours later, I awoke to hear Aila fussing about taking her nap, so I went into her room. She wanted a full water cup, her fan on, a teddy bear to hold, 4 kisses, and for her hair to be stroked. And once all of that was in place, she drifted off to sleep.

I'd created an atmosphere, first for myself and then for Aila, for sleep to be possible.

I found myself thinking back to being at church this morning. North Star Church is so very good at creating an atmosphere for worship. While some make worship some sort of "show," I'm grateful that I'm honestly unaware of what's even going on up front and am just mindful of my own time of proclaiming thanks and praise to my God. In a room full of hundreds, the time spent at His feet feels so personal and so intimate.

Made me wonder if I create an atmosphere of worship in our home...if the words we speak and the things that are seen make this a place where "worship" is not merely singing songs on Sunday morning, but the mark of our lives.

And to take it a step further--what about the atmosphere in my heart? Am I cultivating an atmosphere of worship, or am I filling my heart with junk that gets in the way of worship? Am I devouring the Word of God, or am I lapping up the offerings of entertainment news? Some days it's one, and the next day it's the other. Am I meditating on the One who made a way for all of humanity to be reconciled to Him, or is my heart cluttered with selfish desires that war against me? Again, some days it's one. Other days it's the other.

I truly want my life to an offering of worship. But that means I need to create an atmosphere conducive to worship. Clear out all the sin that so easily entangles...and make a way for worship.

Nothing at All

"If you can't say something nice, then say nothing at all." Such a familiar phrase--and it's certainly true enough. But what's been on my heart a lot this past year is

"If you can't speak worthy words, then speak nothing at all."

Jeremiah 15:19 has proved to be a guard over my tongue these last many months. "If you will speak worthy, not worthless words, you will be my spokesman." Worthy meaning VALUABLE. Full of the value of truth. Edification. Praise. Gratitude. Conviction. Understanding.

It's why sometimes I post nothing for a stretch of time--I'd rather post nothing than worthless words. And that can be hard for me sometimes, because I feel like I should be able to come up with something to say, even though days will go by without that sense that there's a fresh word to share. But what good is it if I have "something" to say, but that "something" is void of value?

I guess that's really all I had to say today. I genuinely long for these words--and all my words--to be worthy ones.

Frustrated

"Ugh, I want the last hour of my life back, " I muttered to Justin as I set my computer on the nightstand and slid further under the covers. I'd just spent the last 60+ minutes trying to find a flight home to California. There was a deal for an astonishing $163 ROUND TRIP, available from now until next February. And can you believe that there was not ONE scenario that worked? I kept thinking I'd found something do-able, only to end up banging my head against a brick wall. Imagine an hour of this:

"Oh--this might work! Wait, no--"

Flights around all holidays sold out.

Proctoring AP exams.

Justin's trip to the Dominican Republic.

Heading up to New England.

Family wedding.

Speaking at Kickoff.

Can't take that much time off from tutoring.

She Speaks Conference.

Our anniversary.

That might work, but a 4-day trip? It'll take longer than that to recover from a flight with both kids!


I was completely and utterly frustrated.


And just kind of heartbroken, too. Anytime I feel like there's a hope to visit home and it doesn't work out, it's tough. Especially with the $163 airfare dangled right in front of me! It SHOULD be able to work out, right?

I was lying in bed, sleepless. It's 4am now and I was running that word "frustrated" through my mind. And while I'm annoyed at this whole flight situation, I am actually quite grateful for some frustrations I've seen played out before me:

The frustration of the wicked.

Those times when I sense the enemy is up to no good, but I see his schemes dissolve before his oh-so-frustrated eyes. Those "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good" type moments. Those "No weapon turned against you will prevail" times. Those "He who digs a pit for another falls into it himself" kind of scenarios. Those "Haman hanged on the very gallows he'd built for Mordecai's hanging" moments. It's tough to deal with times of frustration, unless of course it involves seeing the schemer fall! And oh, how I delight in my God who "thwarts the plans of the crafty, so that their hands achieve no success" (Job 5:12).

He frustrates the ways of the wicked.

Psalm 146:9

Deleted Dreams

Getting published. It was the furthest thing from my mind as I walked out to my mailbox last Friday.

But there it was.

I tore open the envelope and read the words "We are pleased to inform you that your devotion has been chosen to appear in the September/October 2010 issue of Devozine." Maybe as much as a year ago, I'd submitted a story to Devozine, a magazine for Christian teens. And here, many months later, I was getting word that my words would be in print.

After the initial excitement wore off, I realized that I didn't even remember what I'd submitted. I vaguely recall writing something about a mishap that my best friend Kelly and I had shared during our senior year, but I can't be sure. I even went into my documents file to look up what I'd sent...and then I said, "Ohhhhhhhh!" as I remembered what I'd done with it:

I had DELETED it!

A month or two ago, I was going through my computer files, deleting old or unnecessary files. I saw the document entitled "Devozine Submission" and thought, "Nothing's going to come of that" as I pressed the delete button.

So much time had passed that the possibility of getting published was no longer even on my radar--to the point that I felt no hesitation in deleting my copy of what was sent. I have been writing and submitting off and on for years, and I have several rejection letters taped up in a closet (all with the positive feedback highlighted on each so that I wouldn't be totally discouraged). It's never "happened" for me. And so I pressed delete.

Mary Beth Whalen tells of her own "Scribbled-On Dreams." She was jotting down ideas for a book in a spiral-bound notebook, but when the idea got shelved for a few years, she even let her young son scribble in the notebook. Five years later, the book was published, but she kept that scribbled-on notebook as a reminder that simply because WE have given up on our dreams, God may still intend for them to be realized.

So I'll wait until that September/October issue comes out to see what on earth I wrote! And in the meantime, I'll give thanks that my delete button can't thwart the plans of God. :)

Me First, Part Two

Let me tell you when it's really tough to live out You first and leave Me first at the door. It's at 6am after 5 hours of sleep when the dog needs to go out, and I'm exhausted but Justin is even more so, but I still just don't want to do it. And as I sank down deeper under my covers, all I could think of was yesterday's post. I knew this is where the rubber meets the road.

Me first is so much easier than You first. It doesn't require anything of us. I wasn't really ready to start laying down my own flesh, which to be honest, really just wanted to stay in bed until Justin had to get up and let Jack out. Maybe there's no easy time to put what we want on the backburner--certainly not at the crack of dawn!

But really, if not then...

...when?

Me First

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought...

(Romans 12:3)

"Me first!"

Yep, I heard this phrase today. Multiple times. Me first, me first, me first.

Sure, my kids were saying it. But this week I've been mindful of my own battle against this mentality.

This week I subbed at a high school and headed out the door without breakfast every day. I don't normally skip breakfast, so I felt really ready to eat by the time lunchtime rolled around. But those long-legged students always beat me over to the dining hall, and I was stuck in a long line. I know (because I used to teach there) that teachers are allowed to cut in line and get their food first so that they can get going on their lunches or get to their commitments or meetings, and I've done that in the past.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it this time.

Oh, I wanted to--with my blood sugar plummeting, I was so ready to eat. But you know what? So were those students! Even if it is allowed, why should I get to go before a bunch of other people who are just as hungry as I?

Do you, like me, ever park where you shouldn't, as though the rules don't apply to you? Do you change lanes constantly while driving, assuming your time is more important than that of the others in the cars around you? I am SO guilty of that one. It's all evidence of that "Me first" attitude. Believe me, I'd like to call it something else, but I know that if the shoe fits, I've gotta wear it.

And so in my coming and going lately, I am trying to be mindful of the way I think about what it means to be first. After all, according to our God, the first shall be last. And the ones who let in that trying-to-merge driver whom everyone else is ignoring, the ones who say, "You can go ahead of me" in the grocery line or who choose to be a spouse's needs first--these are the ones who are first in His Kingdom.

I teach my children to say "You first." But I'm learning right along with them.

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others above yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Philippians 2:3-4

Clean

This is what Trevor was doing to pass the time as I was making dinner tonight. What a picture it painted to me of the forgiveness we celebrate--the truth that we once were defiled and dirtied by our sin, but were made clean by Christ's redemptive work on the cross and His resurrection.

We try to un-simplify it, don't we? Doesn't it seem like there should be more to it than that? But the moment someone crosses from self-righteousness to Christ's righteousness, something happens in an instant. Much like the words of my little boy: "Dirty......clean!"

Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow;

Though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.

Isaiah 1:18

Impostor

Confession time. I can't live the lie any longer.

I don't know the first thing about basketball.

Oh, I know that the ball goes in the basket. Aaaand that's about it. But I led a group of 100 junior highers to believe that I was an authority on the subject.

A few years back I got a call about a long-term sub job as a P.E. teacher at a junior high. Let's just say that the job for which I am least qualified on God's green earth is "P.E. Teacher." At a junior high, no less.

Thankfully, my sweet husband Justin used to coach basketball. So I knew he could hook me up when I walked through the door, tossed my keys on the counter and said, "Okay--I need you to teach me how to do a lay-up."

So the next day I announced to a bunch of acne-prone individuals, "Alright, so here's how you do a lay-up."

It was all very Cyrano de Bergerac.

I spent the two weeks of that sub job faking my way through lay-up lessons, dribbling drills and jump shots. I led everyone to believe I was a b-ball expert, but I knew I was nothing but an impostor.

I've been there in that "I'm an impostor" place since then, too. I've wanted to appear to have it all together, to be able to juggle it all and do it with excellence. Trying to be a wife who brings Justin good, not harm, all the days of his life. Wanting desperately to expose my children to truth every chance I get. Getting my house ready for Bible study. Doing my Bible study. Facilitating said Bible study. Figuring out child care. Subbing. Tutoring. Couples' small group. Women's ministry. Speaking ministry. Maintaining friendships both near and far. All in the name of making dents in this world for His Kingdom and wanting to be sure I live so as not to "bury my talents." So I put on my happy face and I go, go, go.

But my mask fell off on Wednesday night in the form of an "ugly cry" in front of 10 women.

It was terribly uncomfortable for me to break. Publicly. To find myself saying outloud "I can't do it all." With so much competing for my time, I've loaded too much onto my plate. But Heaven forbid that it would be so much that I would end up dropping that overloaded plate in such a public place.

I want to be real. I'm not doing anyone any good by leading people to believe I've got it all together. That is so frighteningly far from the truth. So after my Wednesday night declaration that I can't do it all, I very intentionally took one thing off my plate and let out a mighty big sigh of relief.

We can't do it all--which is tough when it's all good stuff, isn't it? And yet we are loved...Loved by a God who is fine with you and me being broken jars of clay. We're adored by the One whose power is revealed as perfect in the smack dab middle of our weaknesses.

Thea Nelson doesn't have it all together. There--I've said it. And she still doesn't know anything about basketball, either. :)

Terrified

Wide-eyed. Terrified.

I took my 4-year old son and 2-year old daughter out to a Hibachi restaurant today--but it didn't go the way I had hoped. I was so excited--so sure they'd get such a kick out of it...
And maybe they would have if the chef hadn't started the show off with the most tremendously ginormous * fireball * that I have ever seen, just two feet from my children's sweet little faces!

Never in my life have I ever seen anyone actually trembling with fear, but poor Aila was literally shaking like a leaf. And Trevor's eyes got cartoonishly big, just wide with terror.

The problem was that the fear lingered long after the presumed threat was gone. While I was busy devouring my delicious teriyaki chicken, Trevor kept asking if we could leave, as his eyes darted around. He was so consumed with worry that something else would come out of left field. He couldn't enjoy anything more about the experience because he kept anticipating the next big, bad thing.

Fear truly is a thief, isn't it? It steals our joy and robs us of peace. We can't even live in the moment because we're terrified of what just might come out of left field. I find it timely that this happened today, because just yesterday I learned that there is one commandment that is uttered more than any other throughout the Word of God:

FEAR NOT.

Fear not because He has overcome the world. Fear not because He is with you. Fear not because no weapon that's turned against you will prevail. Fear not because He is able to guard what He's entrusted to Him. Fear not because perfect love drives out fear.

Fear not.

What is your greatest fear? What thought consumes your mind so that you can't even be in the moment?

Over It

It's snowing right now in the Atlanta area. For the third time this season. And from what I'm hearing from the online community, the people around here are just kind of "over it."

But I'm not. I'm delighted. Falling snow is still a wondrous thing for this California-born-and-raised girl! Never once growing up did I get to have a snowball fight in my front yard or make snow angels with the kids down the street. But around here, it usually snows once a year, so it's neat when the snow falls, but not quite the miracle it is to those who have never known it to be that way.

I guess when something is new, the awe and the wonder are still there.

Like salvation. To the one who has occupied a church pew since I was 6, it's not something that takes my breath away as it should. I've heard countless times how Jesus' death on the cross completely wiped out my every offense and made a way for me to be restored to the Heavenly Father I've grieved. A truth that should have me face down in awe and wonder doesn't move me as it should. Of course I know it's amazing, and I'm thankful. But perhaps not awe-struck.

But I consider the ones to whom this beautiful truth is new--the ones who have only recently come to know redemption of their sins. They can't contain their joy, their thanks. For those who have gone without grace for so long, knowing the truth of salvation is a cup of cold water in a desert. Mercy is wondrous, and grace, awe-inspiring.

So as I go out and play in the snow today, I want to be mindful of the enormity and the wonder of what was done on my behalf to make me white as snow.

Princess

"You were a bit of a princess when you were younger," I was told by a family member.

That didn't sit well with me.

I'm a girly-girl, but I didn't want to be a princess. I'd come to associate the word "princess" with "diva." Not good.

I don't tend to mesh well with divas. I spend too much of my time in their presence biting my tongue to keep from saying, "Get over yourself" (which I would never in a million years actually say). I don't have much patience for that sense of entitlement, that "the-world-revolves-around-me" attitude. I especially cringe when I see it in little girls.

So in the years since those words were spoken to me (and it's been quite a few), I've tried to be anything but a princess. I don't demand my own way. I'd rather die than send back food at a restaurant. I say "please" every third word when I even order, and thank the waiter multiple times. I totally get the fact that nobody owes me anything, and I act accordingly (most of the time).

But I've been wrong to say I'm not a princess.

I'm not a diva. But I am a princess. See, this world has it wrong. The idea of being a princess has come to suggest that "I'm-up-on-a-pedestal" mentality. But a princess's royalty has far less to do with her, and far more to do with being the daughter of a King. I am a daughter of the King of Kings, which makes me a princess. Not because of who I am, but because of who He is. My Heavenly Father is the King. That makes me royalty.

This past week I memorized 1 Peter 2:9 with Weekly Bible Memory Verse on Facebook. Awesome verse. It says I am a royal priesthood--not that I may be lifted up, but that I may "proclaim the praise of the One who called me out of darkness into marvelous light." My position as a princess means that I bring glory to my Father the King. Period. He is the One on the throne, and I get to spend my life bringing honor to His name!

Guess I'm a princess after all. Although I'd still rather die than send food back in a restaurant. :)

Pay You Back

Imagine an exterminator shows up at your house to discover a serious infestation.

Now imagine that the infestation caused some serious, very costly damage.

Go with me a step further as we imagine the exterminator taking out his checkbook and saying, "I am so glad you called. Wow, what a mess! Pesky bugs. Let me just repay you for the damage they did."

Wait--what? That would never happen.

Oh, but something a lot like it did.

In the book of Joel, the story is told of a plague of locusts coming through the land and destroying crops. Then a second round showed up and devoured what the first round had left. Then came a third round of locusts. Then a fourth! Can you imagine the nothingness that remained? Absolute devastation. Utter destitution.

But the people turned back to the Lord--they repented and returned. And when they called, there was no rejection--He just told them He was glad they'd called. And He went on to say, "I'm sending you new grain, new wine and oil, enough to satisfy you fully. I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten. You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you" (Joel 2:20, 25, 26).

Um, Hallelujah! No other word seems sufficient. We've all had "locust" years. Maybe they were a decade ago, or maybe you're in them now. But whether then or now, they call out for redemption.
Mine surely do. I have already seen Him "make amends" (from the Hebrew word "shalam") and give again. I have eaten of the new grain. But there's more. I get to go through my days knowing He will continue to restore.

So as you recall your "locust" years of

unfaithfulness

loss

going your own way

loneliness

divorce

unmet expectations

or your own "fill in the blank,"

know that you are received by the One who will wipe away the years of the locusts and will restore every single one of them. :)

Not Easily Melted

Recently I was driving to a friend's house and saw a snowman on the front lawn. It was an odd sight because there was no other snow anywhere in sight, and I was wearing short sleeves. Sure, it had snowed seven days before. But then the snow had also MELTED about 5 days before. So there was Mr. Snowman, just hanging out on a field of grass in a front yard on a flip-flops kind of day.

As I kept driving, I saw five more snowmen, also all without a patch of snow anywhere around them. "How in the world have these snowmen not melted?" I wondered, as the temperature hovered around 60 degrees.

I guess when you gather those millions of snowflakes together, they can endure much more and remain much longer.

I love people. I am like 98% people-oriented and maybe 2% goal-oriented. But I am an introvert. All the way, baby--I am textbook! When I was single, I used to take a long drive by myself almost every single night (gas was a lot cheaper then). Being with people makes me very happy and I love being in large groups--I have a blast while I'm there. But sometimes I feel like I could hibernate afterward!

I have to be careful, though, not to isolate myself, not to feel like it's only just me and God. Or even just me, God, Justin and the kids. I NEED PEOPLE. I was made to need people, introvert or not. And when I pull back too much, the enemy can really use that isolation. Any predator has a better shot at its prey when it's alone. So even though my need to withdraw can be a really good and even necessary thing, it has to be kept in check, otherwise I know I become...vulnerable. Susceptible. My Shepherd has me as part of a flock for a reason, and it's not good to be isolated for too long.

As one lone snowflake out there, we can easily melt away when even a little heat comes. But when we're packed together with other believers for the purpose of Kingdom stuff, the heat can come and we'll still be a part of something that's standing.

If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:10-12

I Did It

"There you go!" my 2-year old Aila said proudly as she "pushed" open the door at church for me.

Only she didn't push it open for me. I pushed it open for her.

There is no way she has in her what it takes to open those heavy glass doors on her own. But when she pressed her hands against the door and pushed, I was right behind her putting my hands on the door and pushing it open. In her mind, though, she was the one who had done it.

As this scenario was unfolding, it felt familiar. Perhaps because it wasn't the first time someone has said "I did it!" without cause. Scripture is full of people who did not recognize God's hand in their circumstances. Even in this day and age, this world echoes the words spoken in Deuteronomy 32: "Our hand has triumphed--the Lord has not done all of this" (v.27). Even my own mirror shows the face of someone who is not always aware of God's hand just plain accomplishing. Fulfilling. Making a way. Must've been my hands, right? After all, those are the ones I see.

Mighty God, thank You for this picture. I can see my own hands on a door that I couldn't possibly open on my own. And should it open and the only hands I see are mine, help me to perceive that Your strong and able hands were over mine, doing what I could not do on my own!

Down the Road

Time to start looking down the road.

When I was 15 and started my behind-the-wheel training, my instructor spotted something right away that needed to be corrected in my driving.

"Um, you need to look a little further ahead than just the 3 inches in front of the car."

He could see I was intensely focused on staying between the lines--watching closely the road that was disappearing under the front of my car. "Don't do that," he said. "Odd as it may sound, you'll be a much safer driver if you don't even look at the road. Just look out that way," he said, motioning out toward nothing specific--just the landscape in front of me.


"You could actually get into a lot of trouble if all you do is focus on what's right in front of you. You need to look down the road when you drive."


So true.


Making decisions, calling shots, and spending time based on a few inches right in front of us will not lead us where we want to go. In these minutes and hours right in front of me I want to see what's new on Facebook, sleep in, and put my feet up. I want to eat what I want to eat and dwell on what I want to dwell on. I do not really get time to myself, so I want a break badly enough to steal the wrong kinds. I want to check out mentally, I want to unplug.


But none of that will take me where I want to go. I want time with God and a heart filled with the Word I've hidden away in it. I want a husband who knows he has my undivided heart and attention. I want children who know I want them in my lap rather than my computer. And rather than holding my Blackberry, I want their hands in mine. I want an organized house that is a delight for family and friends to walk into. I want a healthy body and many days to make an impact. I want balance. Basically, I desperately want Kingdom stuff.

There are just too many discrepancies between those last two paragraphs I just wrote. I say I want to be one place, but I am headed in an entirely different direction than I actually want to be. I used to be a lot better at focusing on what matters. But lately, I haven't. I'm not plunking down on the floor and playing with the kids as much as I used to. I'm on the computer in the evenings when I should be available to unwind with Justin. Honestly, I do need a break. Some time away from my all-over-the-place schedule, and my attempts to get little mental breaks in the middle of it all just to try to survive. I wonder what things would look like if I wasn't so...fragmented.

I want to know badly enough to try and find out.

Unplugging.

Stupid

Stupid. It's a word I don't even let my children say, yet I have called myself this more times than I can count. Would never even think that about someone else in the same boat, but I've willingly worn it myself.

It's all starting to come into clear focus only recently. Like a long, winding trail throughout my life, it has followed me--my belief that there might just be something wrong with me. And "stupid" is the conclusion I've reached too many times.

Like as recently as two days ago when I was near tears trying to read the book our couples' small group is reading, only to find the words seeming to swim on the page--no clue of what I'd just read when I reached the end of the paragraph.

Or the fact that when I was reading through Isaiah, I had to read first out of my Living Translation and then out of my NIV, just to be able to understand what I was reading.

Or the fact that unless something is written in a very conversational style, it'll take me three reads through one paragraph to tell you what I just read. If it's detailed, flowery, descriptive prose, I'm out within a sentence or two.

Or the fact that I was about to pull my hair out trying to understand the historical details of the book of Esther so I would feel somewhat prepared as a facilitator in my Esther Bible study.

Or the fact that I only read one out of many assigned books my entire senior year. Not because I was a slacker, but because I really didn't understand what I was reading. Thank goodness I could turn out a great essay, which allowed me to fake my way through Miss Dillman's Advanced English.

Or the fact that I get nervous when I substitute teach in the high school, for fear that I'll have to read and then explain something and not be able to do it.

Then there was the humilitation I felt when an overnight guest was appalled at my lack of literature on my bookshelf. On my bookshelf: Framed pictures, parenting books and some old Bible studies, mostly. Not "The Catcher in the Rye" or "Wuthering Heights." I felt a similar shame recently at a friend's house at the sight of her extensive literature collection on her bookshelf. I probably couldn't get one chapter into the majority of the books on her shelf.

I can't tell you about the plight of the oppressed on the other side of the world, because when I try to read about it, it's like reading another language.

Just recently I have begun to open up about how I have shied away from the pursuit of knowledge because I have known people who have made it their god. True enough. But my motive for not pursuing knowledge also stems from the fact that it is just extremely difficult for me to understand sometimes, and I hate it, so I don't even want to try.

I get mad sometimes that I struggle so much to understand. I don't want to have to work so hard at it, particularly when it comes to the Word of God. I love His Word. And it really breaks my heart that understanding truth comes with a lot of work and several read-throughs. I envy those who have no difficulty getting it. It's just not that way for me at all.

As for "stupid," I know it's a lie. I mean, no, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, and I'm okay with that, but when I really examine things, I really don't think I am truly what I've believed I am. There is peace in knowing that I was knit together very intentionally by a God who isn't impressed by IQ, and that any limitation I may have just leaves room for His strength to be revealed. And I have to remember that when I finally do "get" what I read, the Holy Spirit brings such understanding. I want knowledge to come easily, but more than that I want wisdom. I crave discernment. I long for understanding. And I know God has been faithful to give those things for His glory and delight.

I love this passage--and I especially rejoice in the BUT GOD in the middle of these verses. They give me hope that He can use someone for whom it just doesn't come easily:

"Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were influential...

BUT GOD chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong."

1 Corinthians 1:26-27

Just a Teaspoon

Last week I made a batch of cookies and used some vanilla extract that turned out to be--to put it nicely--questionable. Just one tiny teaspoon of "what-on-earth-is-wrong-with-this?" vanilla, and the whole batch was ruined. I know you might think that you can't ruin a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Trust me, you can.

It's hard to believe that one teaspoon of something bad could override cupfuls of sugar, butter, and other deliciousness, but it did.


I could see this from the angle that one bad apple ruins the whole bunch. True enough. But I can't forget just how oh-so-yummy a batch of cookies can be with a bit of vanilla in the mix. Makes me think of mustard seed faith--how just the tiniest bit of faith is enough to override heaps of doubt and discouragement.


If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you" (Matthew 17:20). Not even mountains in all their grandeur can trump the tiniest seed of faith.


Think of how the tiniest flicker of light can so easily pierce through darkness. Yes, even all-consuming darkness is consumed by the least little bit of light. And in the same way, when everything around us speaks against hope, our wish-it-were-greater FAITH is sufficient to permeate our circumstances.

Ever feel like you've got only the tiniest teaspoon of faith in the midst of overwhelming odds? When even a shred of hope exists in seemingly hopeless circumstances, we have the authority in Jesus' name to take one look at the mountains before us and say, "Move on out of here."

For a teaspoon of faith is far greater than the mountain.

I Cannot Come Down

Nehemiah was up to something important, and so am I.

With his hands set to the task of rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, there were those who sought to distract him, to tear him away from the undoing of the distruction.

He was quite close to finishing the wall (only the gates needed to be hung), and some people around him started to sweat bullets. We've gotta stop this--he is so close, they thought.

So four (count 'em, four) times they sent messengers to try to get him to cease his efforts with lies and malicious intent. And each time he replied with the same answer:

"I am doing a great work, and I cannot come down."

He recognized their attempts for what they were, and called out for Almighty God to strengthen His hands to finish the task.

My hands are set on completing a task, too. A great work. An enduring work. My work is to minister to Justin, Trevor and Aila, to make Christ's love more real to them, and I too "have devoted myself to the work on this" (Nehemiah 5:16). But that doesn't mean that I don't have all kinds of messages coming my way from one who sees that I am close to seeing fruit--and does not want fruit to exist within my family. He may come at me with lies and malicious intent, but my God reigns and He is the One to strengthen my hands for the work. After all, I am called to accomplish my work just as Nehemiah accomplished his--

there's just a little more peanut butter and jelly and a little less brick & mortar in mine.

So when opportunities come that get in the way of this,
I AM DOING A GREAT WORK, AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.

When discouragement looms,
I AM DOING A GREAT WORK, AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.

When temptation lurks,
I AM DOING A GREAT WORK, AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.

When a "safer" life beckons,
I AM DOING A GREAT WORK, AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.

With the vision of a family rooted established in love and truth in my mind,

I'll say it as many times as I need to...

I AM DOING A GREAT WORK, AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.

You have something to accomplish too, as well as the very same messages that threaten to distract you. But your work is so very valuable in the kingdom, and you must not come down off your ladder, no matter what calls. I am praying over you today that the Lord will strengthen your hands for His purposes, and am crying out for this to be your reply as well:

I AM DOING A GREAT WORK,

AND I CANNOT COME DOWN.