My heart has been heavy this week over Charlottesville- that white supremacist rally that escalated and ended in the death of a young woman. It's the hatred, the polarization, the politicizing. It grieves me so deeply.
But most of all, I am saddened by the division among believers, members of the body of Christ, when it comes to this outward display of racism. In my mind's eye, our only response should be outright, unequivocal condemnation of this event (which is really an ideology). Our words should say, "We are sorry. We weep with you. We love you. Lord, forgive us for such an atrocity against your dearest creation."
Instead, we caved to the media hype, and the words that came out were defensive, argumentative, and much like the President's. "Hey, this is a shame, but...." Excuses. Defending memorials, political positions, our own ideologies. Not standing in love and support for the hurting, but minimizing it. Not being like Jesus.
I am heart broken over this. The only record we have of Jesus's life is in the only book we call Holy, the Bible, and I never once saw Jesus defend a political stance or party. I never once saw him make excuses for hatred. I never once read that he told us to defend ourselves. In fact, he set the highest example for us by not answering back his accusers as they were convicting him of dubious "crimes" before crucifying him. He never once declared himself "not guilty" though it was true. We cannot say the same, even when it comes to racism. But instead of owning the sin's of our nation, instead of taking the hits from the media, we fight back.
I expect to be divided from those who scorn the gospel, but I don't expect it among those of us who claim Jesus as our Savior. As a body, we are more and more polarized, and though it may be futile, I strive to figure out why. I pray, I seek the Lord, I seek His Holy Word. Yes, of course we have differences of preference and some differences of interpretation- these should be minor things. Drinking, dress, order of worship. But is there any leeway in how we view people, created in God's image? Each and every one of us, regardless of gender, race, religion, nationality? Shouldn't we be quick to defend life, no matter what? Instead, we defend our politics.
I want to own my anger and frustration at some of my fellow Christians because of the things they have said and done and written for all the world to see, and those who have backed them. I am angry. Actually, I am heart-broken, and that leads to anger. And yet, I want to humble myself and recognize that most of these people love Jesus dearly. I want to see them as He does, I want to give them grace, and not harbor resentment in my heart. I'm struggling with this. I don't want to think I have it all figured out, and everyone else is wrong. But I think we are so far from the gospel sometimes. And we are losing a battle, not for America, but for eternity.
Friends, I know we have many fears for our nation. I have more fears for the body of Christ. We belong to Jesus and I think it is long past time to act like it. If we are led as lambs to the slaughter, so be it. We are in good company.
"He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth." Isaiah 53:7
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
I Give It a Year
Last July, we were having dinner at a really fantastic restaurant with our dearest friends who were visiting from Florida. It was a beautiful summer evening, the food was incredible, the company was the best. But I was trying so hard not to cry.
Not that the whole meal was like that, but when the conversation got around to how we were doing and how life was going, it got real. These were the people we could be totally honest with, and the truth was still so painful. We were just so lonely, so discouraged, so empty feeling, still, even though it had been five years since we had moved. I could barely speak because I just didn't want to cry.
I think it was that evening that made my husband say something the next day that I took really seriously.
"I give it one more year."
I wrote his words on that day in July on the 2017 calendar. "Josh gave it one more year."
I was holding him to it. If July 2017 rolled around and things hadn't gotten better, we were moving on. Leaving the state, selling everything, gone. (No drama intended)
But what "things" am I talking about? What really needed to get better? Josh finally had a stable job in a great paper mill. In fact, he had never worked at a mill so long before it shut its doors. We had another baby after that move, a child we never would have expected, but that brought us so much joy. Financially, we were debt free (minus the mortgage). In so many ways, things looked just right.
But there was the loneliness, the lack of deep relationships with people in our new hometown, feeling like we had no "home team". It seemed like everywhere I turned, I was hearing messages about how you need to make time for friendship, you need to have an inner circle of friends, you need people in your life, and I thought "If I hear this message one more time, I will really, truly lose my mind!" Because the truth is, you can't just make that happen. You can try and try and try, but you can't build meaningful relationships on your own. We did try, and try, and try, but it just didn't seem to fall into place.
There was the disillusionment with ministry. We were serving and serving and serving, but in several ways we just weren't called to or gifted to. Because we wanted to help so much, we were doing things that were wearing us down instead of building us up.
All around me, it seemed like the modern-day MO of Christian women was to do way too much, get completely burnt out, give up everything, get "better", and then write a book or blog series or create a webinar series on how you could get better, too. Over and over again I saw this, and I began to wonder if that was what I was headed for. Complete burn out, to the point of not even being able to do the things I knew for sure I was called to do (like homeschool my children).
Making peace with what the Lord was calling us to for a long time was hard. Not because it didn't promise freedom, but because it meant going against the grain, giving up ministries, leaving a church, disappointing people and still not having the entire plan mapped out for us. In fact, I think that is something the Lord is wanting me to surrender daily: the need to know what is next. To just live this day fully and faithfully and trust that tomorrow will move us forward, even if we can't see it.
We began to step out in faith in a few areas where the Lord was calling us. We started a home Bible study in September, something we had always wanted to to. I admit, I was not hopeful at all that anyone would come. I was supportive, but not encouraging. I invited the only people I knew in the area, the families that attend our homeschool co op. Lo and behold, people came! The Lord is building an amazing little family of believers through this home Bible study. On a recent evening we were talking with kids about what a blessing it was to have friends over, and Brown-Eyed Girl said in a serious and quakey voice, "I don't feel lonely anymore."
We stepped out very painfully and made a change in churches. We had resisted for a long time, but it was so freeing when we relinquished our leadership roles and chose to follow the Lord into a season of rest. For now, we just go to church on Sunday and sit in the service and feed on the Word of God. Our two oldest children are beside us. We can just soak it in. It sounds so selfish because we are so used to serving, but what an incredible blessing it has been. And so needed. In faith, we believe this season of rest is another part of preparation for what is coming.
We finally, finally feel like we have a home team! When we got to the park, we're not alone anymore. I have girlfriends to chat over coffee with while the kids are being goofballs together. Every single one of us is kind of in awe that we finally, finally have a group of friends to "do life with". Our house is bustling with friends more and more often and the food is being dished up and the coffee is pouring and I LOVE IT! This is what I am made for. This is what we are called to do right now.
There were a lot of ugly tears over the past five and half years. There was depression. I will honestly say it felt so dark sometimes. But here is the blessing: There was always light. Always. There was always a peace that we were right in the center of the Lord's will, that he was teaching us, preparing us, blessing us for trying to be faithful. As hard as it was, I wouldn't trade it in for five and half blissful years. Because we would never have learned what we did, we wouldn't have depended on the Lord as we had to. I have no regrets or bitterness because this was all in the Lord's hands. There is no blame. We had to go through this.
We have grown and matured in ways we never would have without it, we have more compassion, more understanding for other lonely people who are on the fringes. We have learned so much about grace and conflict resolution and freedom in Christ. We have learned that those desires of our heart that seem so unfulfilled are worth clinging to because they are from the Lord. And he can fulfill them as no one else can.
The other night, Josh and I were on a date and a song that means a lot to me came across the speakers. This song was a promise the Lord made me in January of 2013. If you have followed my blog, maybe you will remember my post about it. I remember that day so well, my absolute brokeness, but God speaking to me through the words of a song:
Guess what? Our year is up (the one I was going to hold Josh to!) and this promise is fulfilled. This place is finally that home we were hoping for. And because of some other promises God has made us, I'm pretty sure the best is yet to come.
I am sharing all of this not because it's easy, but because it is real. And it testifies to God's goodness. I actually wrote this post more than a month ago, but didn't share it, because it's vulnerable and not intended to hurt anyone. But this morning I got a message from a friend. She had texted me some pictures of an event we went to last night with a big group of friends, pictures of the kids having the time of their lives. And she said, "These pictures make me think of your One More Year story." And it choked me up because the Lord has been so faithful.
And I just had to share that.
Not that the whole meal was like that, but when the conversation got around to how we were doing and how life was going, it got real. These were the people we could be totally honest with, and the truth was still so painful. We were just so lonely, so discouraged, so empty feeling, still, even though it had been five years since we had moved. I could barely speak because I just didn't want to cry.
I think it was that evening that made my husband say something the next day that I took really seriously.
"I give it one more year."
I wrote his words on that day in July on the 2017 calendar. "Josh gave it one more year."
I was holding him to it. If July 2017 rolled around and things hadn't gotten better, we were moving on. Leaving the state, selling everything, gone. (No drama intended)
But what "things" am I talking about? What really needed to get better? Josh finally had a stable job in a great paper mill. In fact, he had never worked at a mill so long before it shut its doors. We had another baby after that move, a child we never would have expected, but that brought us so much joy. Financially, we were debt free (minus the mortgage). In so many ways, things looked just right.
But there was the loneliness, the lack of deep relationships with people in our new hometown, feeling like we had no "home team". It seemed like everywhere I turned, I was hearing messages about how you need to make time for friendship, you need to have an inner circle of friends, you need people in your life, and I thought "If I hear this message one more time, I will really, truly lose my mind!" Because the truth is, you can't just make that happen. You can try and try and try, but you can't build meaningful relationships on your own. We did try, and try, and try, but it just didn't seem to fall into place.
There was the disillusionment with ministry. We were serving and serving and serving, but in several ways we just weren't called to or gifted to. Because we wanted to help so much, we were doing things that were wearing us down instead of building us up.
All around me, it seemed like the modern-day MO of Christian women was to do way too much, get completely burnt out, give up everything, get "better", and then write a book or blog series or create a webinar series on how you could get better, too. Over and over again I saw this, and I began to wonder if that was what I was headed for. Complete burn out, to the point of not even being able to do the things I knew for sure I was called to do (like homeschool my children).
Making peace with what the Lord was calling us to for a long time was hard. Not because it didn't promise freedom, but because it meant going against the grain, giving up ministries, leaving a church, disappointing people and still not having the entire plan mapped out for us. In fact, I think that is something the Lord is wanting me to surrender daily: the need to know what is next. To just live this day fully and faithfully and trust that tomorrow will move us forward, even if we can't see it.
We began to step out in faith in a few areas where the Lord was calling us. We started a home Bible study in September, something we had always wanted to to. I admit, I was not hopeful at all that anyone would come. I was supportive, but not encouraging. I invited the only people I knew in the area, the families that attend our homeschool co op. Lo and behold, people came! The Lord is building an amazing little family of believers through this home Bible study. On a recent evening we were talking with kids about what a blessing it was to have friends over, and Brown-Eyed Girl said in a serious and quakey voice, "I don't feel lonely anymore."
We stepped out very painfully and made a change in churches. We had resisted for a long time, but it was so freeing when we relinquished our leadership roles and chose to follow the Lord into a season of rest. For now, we just go to church on Sunday and sit in the service and feed on the Word of God. Our two oldest children are beside us. We can just soak it in. It sounds so selfish because we are so used to serving, but what an incredible blessing it has been. And so needed. In faith, we believe this season of rest is another part of preparation for what is coming.
We finally, finally feel like we have a home team! When we got to the park, we're not alone anymore. I have girlfriends to chat over coffee with while the kids are being goofballs together. Every single one of us is kind of in awe that we finally, finally have a group of friends to "do life with". Our house is bustling with friends more and more often and the food is being dished up and the coffee is pouring and I LOVE IT! This is what I am made for. This is what we are called to do right now.
There were a lot of ugly tears over the past five and half years. There was depression. I will honestly say it felt so dark sometimes. But here is the blessing: There was always light. Always. There was always a peace that we were right in the center of the Lord's will, that he was teaching us, preparing us, blessing us for trying to be faithful. As hard as it was, I wouldn't trade it in for five and half blissful years. Because we would never have learned what we did, we wouldn't have depended on the Lord as we had to. I have no regrets or bitterness because this was all in the Lord's hands. There is no blame. We had to go through this.
We have grown and matured in ways we never would have without it, we have more compassion, more understanding for other lonely people who are on the fringes. We have learned so much about grace and conflict resolution and freedom in Christ. We have learned that those desires of our heart that seem so unfulfilled are worth clinging to because they are from the Lord. And he can fulfill them as no one else can.
The other night, Josh and I were on a date and a song that means a lot to me came across the speakers. This song was a promise the Lord made me in January of 2013. If you have followed my blog, maybe you will remember my post about it. I remember that day so well, my absolute brokeness, but God speaking to me through the words of a song:
Just know you're not alone,
I'm gonna make this place your home.
Guess what? Our year is up (the one I was going to hold Josh to!) and this promise is fulfilled. This place is finally that home we were hoping for. And because of some other promises God has made us, I'm pretty sure the best is yet to come.
I am sharing all of this not because it's easy, but because it is real. And it testifies to God's goodness. I actually wrote this post more than a month ago, but didn't share it, because it's vulnerable and not intended to hurt anyone. But this morning I got a message from a friend. She had texted me some pictures of an event we went to last night with a big group of friends, pictures of the kids having the time of their lives. And she said, "These pictures make me think of your One More Year story." And it choked me up because the Lord has been so faithful.
And I just had to share that.
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