“Don’t be afraid,” Samuel reassured them, “You have certainly done wrong, but make sure now that you worship the Lord with all your heart and don’t turn your back on Him.”

–1 Samuel 12:20

 

Life is full of bad calls. There are plenty of moments where I demand the wrong thing, when I put my trust in something unsure, when my heart chooses to worship someone or something less worthy, where I take a step or make a choice I can’t take back.

Here in this passage, Israel finally acknowledged their sin in rejecting God and demanding a human king, and I thought it was worth considering Samuel’s response:

Yes, you were wrong, but now do this.

“…but make sure now…”

Words that breathe the life of moving forward into the hollow emotion of regret.

When I acknowledge that I’ve been off, the very next right step is just what Samuel describes: worship the Lord with all your heart and do not turn your back on Him.

The natural response to failure is to pull away from the light that exposes it, but God asks us to do the opposite and lean in.

But if we are living in the light, as God is in the light, then we have fellowship with each other, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, cleanses us from all sin. If we claim we have no sin, we are only fooling ourselves and not living in the truth. But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.

–1 John 1:7-9

His answer is not to withdraw, to pull back, or to turn away. His directions to Israel were this:

Give yourself wholly to me again. Don’t turn away. Don’t turn back. Remember who I am and all I have done for you. You have certainly done wrong. BUT NOW DO THIS. Because we are not finished.

Step one to moving forward from failure is always this: Take your eyes off of the regret and put them on the One who moves you past it and into new chances and clean slates. Because He is not finished with you.

…I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead,  I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

–Philippians 3:13-14

 

Lord,

Help me this day, as I acknowledge my own stumbling, to lay down  my obsession with getting it perfect and take up an excitement toward a God who is not limited by my failures and always offers me a way forward from my heaviest moments.

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord, “And my ways are far beyond anything you can imagine.”

–Isaiah 55:8

 

I was reading 1 Samuel 9 this week, a story that starts out with a young Saul looking for his father’s donkeys and ends with an unexpected twist. After searching everywhere for the lost donkeys, Saul and his servant seek out the man of God, hoping, as a last resort, that he might be able to tell them where else to look. The seer does eventually answer their question about the donkeys, but not before announcing that Saul was the one God had just chosen to be Israel’s first king.

How bizarre that must have sounded to Saul, who started his day with one goal: find the donkeys.

He was not expecting meals of honor and anointing oil and prophecies about ruling the country or being the chosen one. He was barely expecting to be successful at donkey-hunting.

And yet, God had a different purpose for this day than Saul did.

I think, especially on the day I read this: sick-in-bed day #3, at the end of 9 months of nausea, in the midst of 10 months of transition, the story of Saul’s day was reassuring. Sometimes I look at all I’m working toward and it’s moving so slowly that I wonder if it will add up to anything at all. I feel like I have a lot of donkey-hunting days.

But the way Saul’s day turned out is a reminder to me that all I need to do is be faithful with the task before me and open to the possibility that God might have something entirely different in mind.

We never know for sure what our many, simple donkey-hunting days are building toward.

And He can build grand, sweeping moments into any one of them. 

It is His to infuse my moments with calling and purpose. It is mine simply to listen and look for His direction – even in small things like “where should I look next for the donkeys?”

So may I lean forward, content to do my best with what’s in front of me and, at the same time, expecting Him to use a life that seeks Him out in ways I could never imagine.

 

Lord-

Help me to trust you even with days that feel monotonous and unimportant: with transition days and sick days, with moving days and just meet-basic-needs days. You have made each of them and I can treat them as sacred unto you.

If I use them, even the simplest of them, just to be faithful to set my heart on you, you will be faithful not to waste it.

 

“…He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”

–Hebrews 11:6

“Give us a king to judge us like all the other nations have…”

“Do everything they say to you,” The Lord replied, “for they are rejecting me, not you. they don’t want me to be their king any longer.”

…”When that day comes, you will beg for relief from this king you are demanding…”

But the people refused to listen to Samuel’s warning, “Even so, we still want a king,” they said, “we want to be like the nations around us.“

–1 Samuel 8, excerpts

 

Israel had just WON against the nations they were comparing themselves to, but one reigning desire was enough that they didn’t care what they were committing themselves to or who they were rejecting to have it.

They longed to be like other people. And it blinded them.

It’s a desire worth confronting in my own heart. For my life knows this bold and senseless craving that insists if only my life looked like that, everything would be okay.

I’ve experienced it in a hundred different ways. Right now this trap-like thinking has sunk its hook into the issue of pregnancy weight gain. What a small thing to cause such persistent unhappiness, but so it is. It’s even normal to put on weight when you’re pregnant, but, man, have I struggled with condemnation, shame, and a painful, repetitive self-assessment over it. Cameras make me want to hide and finding clothes that fit is a whole new challenge, but nothing gets those emotions going like the fatal observation of a beautiful pregnant person who stayed petite.

How readily I notice anyone and everyone who didn’t pack on the pounds in their pregnancy. What power a “belly-only pregnancy” has to dominate my attention and how often I find myself drowning again in thoughts of “why couldn’t I be more like them?”

And so I must pause at this chapter of 1 Samuel and consider the similar thought process it describes in the Israelites. I am not its only victim. Whether it’s a new king or a different pregnancy weight; a new relationship or a different set of talents; attention, approval, or success; that hair, that house, that car; we people are suckers for converting differences into discouragement.

But I have the advantage of looking back at Israel and learning that they were trading something of immense value in order to have something that wasn’t better, even though it really seemed like it at the time.

May I see their story and gain this wisdom:

When I push for what another person has, I may be rejecting what God has purposefully chosen for me.

His loving hand scripts the details of my story and I can either embrace what He has given or cast pining eyes ever outward toward something else. But here is the truth: I can entrust myself to Him. Whatever is out there is not better than what I have already been given, no matter how good it looks.

It’s one thing to see room for improvement and make adjustments in areas I have control over. (Yes, I could eat less sugar).

It is quite another to gaze unhappily at another person’s entire situation and grow sullen over mine. (Despairing because I should have eaten less sugar, or they were better at not eating sugar, or they could eat sugar and stay small anyway). It comes down to this: I want what they have. When that thought rules, it sours appreciation and tears down beauty and I am learning that I do not have to go there.

I CAN LEARN to see desirable situations and remember that, in many ways, my situation is desirable – the biggest being that it was hand-crafted by a God who knows what I need, cherishes me, and promises He is working things out for my good.

I CAN LEARN to see others, notice differences, and move on, turning again to a God who is able to bring about change for me in His timing.

I CAN LEARN to see the beautiful surface level and recognize that sometimes the deeper priorities are dangerously out of balance.

I CAN LEARN that none of what I see is worth distrusting my God and trading away His leadership.

My heart does not judge accurately what is most important. I so need the Lord. I so need His leading.

So, when a difference catches my eye, may it first and foremost cause me to pause and assess whether I am leaning on my own understanding or on His solid guidance (Proverbs 3:5-6). May I learn to put what I can’t control back into His hands and be content learning to do well with what I can control.

And may I see that one of the things I can control is how I think about this.

 

Lord-

Help me to see and to savor what you have given – to delight in what you have chosen for me, and to look to you for help with how to do well with it. Retrain my heart to see differences and just appreciate them rather than diving headlong into the bottomless pool of regret, comparison, lust and frustration.

May I see beauty and remember that you have crafted it, just as you are crafting me.

Train my life to reflect your priorities, to choose to be thankful, and to accept your rest rather than wallowing in my rejection.

My life will never look like everyone else’s. May I learn the lesson that it doesn’t have to, and it is still very, very good. It just takes being willing to believe that you are using those differences and they do not mean that I am a wreck or a failure.

Not even close.

 

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.”

–Ephesians 2:10

 

 

Year after year it was the same – Penninah would taunt Hannah as they went to the tabernacle. Each time, Hannah would be reduced to tears and would not even eat.

“Why are you crying, Hannah?” Elkanah would ask…”Why be downhearted just because you have no children? You have me – isn’t that better than having 10 sons?”

Once after a sacrificial meal at Shiloh, Hannah got up and went to pray. …Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord..”

–1 Samuel 1:7-10

 

I don’t know every detail of how these conversations between Hannah and her husband played out, but he doesn’t mention the taunting year after year or acknowledge the unhealthy dynamic in his family. It seems like he makes some assumptions about Hannah’s distress and misses some of the major factors that made it so painful.

It was after one of these meals, where smug Penninah was favored and Hannah was told not to get so upset, that she headed to the temple and poured out her heart to the Lord. She let down her guard and let out her anguish and the High Priest called her drunk. It had to be frustrating, she cries at home and she’s dismissed, she cries at the Sanctuary and she’s accused.

But I think it’s significant that as upset as she was, she lost her appetite, but not her bearings. Hannah knew where she needed to go.

Even though her husband and then the priest himself misunderstood what she was going through, God heard her.

She wasn’t a king or a prophet or a leader in Israel. She wasn’t blind or lame or leprous. She was just a bullied girl who really wanted to be a mom in a hard situation that was easily dismissed by anyone who knew of it. But she could come to her God and He did not dismiss her. He did not make assumptions. He did not explain away her suffering.

My situation is often misunderstood. People see me up and around and decide that means I’m better. They pat my shoulder and tell me they know my pain. They tell me if I look this good, it must not be “all that bad.”

My sister told me I should start telling them how many meds and IV infusions I require every week to be “okay.” And I feel that when you’re nauseous 24/7, “only” 8 more weeks is just not the best descriptor. We’ve found some things that help, and it’s definitely not as bad as other hard situations people have had to face, but this is still pretty stressful, and one of the daily stressful things is how to respond to what other people say.

It’s easy, when you’re going through something hard, to feel dismissed and misunderstood. To feel hurt by words meant to comfort, because they glazed over something that was pretty significant or they abbreviated something that feels very long-term.

I’m becoming more and more convinced that it often falls to the one who is struggling to offer grace to people who misunderstand what they need. To people who handle you roughly when you’re at your most vulnerable. To people who should say, “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” but somehow come up with “at least you’re not dealing with this or that.”

Here is what I take from Hannah:

I don’t need to get other people to understand. Chasing after that is setting myself up to be frustrated and discouraged. The world is never going to orchestrate itself around being sensitive to me, even when I’m facing something really difficult.

So I just need to run to the One who already gets it. 

When my situation is misunderstood, when I feel invisible or dismissed, I can remember, like Hannah, that I do not serve a dismissive God. Even if He makes me wait, it’s not because He’s ignoring me. Even if things stay difficult, it’s not because He doesn’t see.

O my people, trust in him at all times.
    Pour out your heart to him,
    for God is our refuge. 

–Psalm 62:8

He is the God I can run to with the feelings I don’t know how to put words to, when I’m agonizing over something that doesn’t seem important to anyone else. He is the God who hears every person, regardless of their status; the God who bends down to listen to children and sympathizes with weakness; the God who let Hannah sob at the place of worship.

And unlike Elkanah, God didn’t ask “Isn’t your husband enough for you?” He gave Hannah the son she longed for and He gave her honor to dispel the taunting. God saw Hannah and He answered her plea.

1 Samuel doesn’t open with a person persevering perfectly through distress, but with a girl falling to pieces in the courtyard of the Holy Place because she’s so stressed she can’t eat, and with a God who saw her struggle and gave what she asked for. It is a book that begins with someone crying out “help me,” and God saying “yes.”

I want to grab on to that pattern and remember the type of God He shows himself to be in these stories. Rather than trying to prepare perfectly and endure admirably and suffer impressively, I will just lay down my cards. I can just admit that this is too hard for me and delight in the God who says “yes, I will help you” when I call on Him and “yes, I understand you,” when I cry to Him.

Perhaps doing that is a step toward developing the humility He’s looking for anyway.

 

And he gives grace generously. As the Scriptures say,

 

 

The servant leaned against a boulder and wiped his forehead with his arm, squinting in the harsh sun. He worked the offending pebble out of his sandal and continued his trudge toward the lookout point.

Six times he’d made this hike already. Why was Elijah so obsessed with how the skies looked now? And why didn’t he just pray somewhere he could look out over the sea himself?

He tapped the last drops from his water skin and licked his cracked lips, shaking his head. He would now be thirsty until his master saw fit to come down from the mountain and search out water again. The drought had lasted three long years, but that hadn’t stopped Elijah from dumping 12 large jars of pain-stakingly collected water over his offering this afternoon.

As the servant rounded the last bend on the trail, he was torn. He’d seen impressive things while carrying out the wishes of the rogue prophet, but Elijah’s power seemed finicky. Just this afternoon, fire had come from the heavens and consumed the soaked offering, the stones, the very dust itself at his master’s word.

And yet here Elijah was, on his face on the same mountain, praying earnestly for rain and sending his servant for the seventh time to check for clouds. What good was it to be able to call fire from the sky if you die of thirst because you can’t make it rain?

The servant scanned the horizon, taking in the sparkling surface of the Mediterranean.

The last six times he’d looked, the day had been flawlessly clear, but he did finally glimpse a small cloud, out to the West, just above the water.  He bit his lip as he raised his hand to gauge it. He could cover the entire thing with his arm held out straight and it would surely just dissipate into the day’s heat. On any other day, he wouldn’t have bothered mentioning it, but this was his seventh hike out to look, so he shrugged and headed back to Elijah to report his findings.

“It’s not much, master,” the servant roused Elijah from his prostrate position with a light touch on the shoulder, “but there was a really small cloud this time.”

“No time to waste!” Elijah bolted upright with an excited spark in his eyes. “Hurry to Ahab!” He was shouting now, pulling extra layers of clothing out of his pack, wrapping a cowl over his head and shoulders, “Tell him to take the chariot home! If he’s not quick about it, the rain will stop him!”

“You think there will be that much rain?” The servant almost protested, but the fierce look on Elijah’s face stopped him short, so he turned on his heel and rushed down the mountain toward the royal ensemble. An uncharacteristically cool wind tousled his hair as he made his way down the path, and the servant wondered aloud what time it was. He knew they’d spent much of the day up on the mountain, but the sky had darkened significantly in the last few minutes and by his estimate, they should have another hour until sunset.

He reached King Ahab and breathlessly passed on Elijah’s message, just as the first heavy drop of water traced its way down his dusty face and settled on his cracked, thirsty lips.

The servant had never seen such a rainstorm as the one that followed.

---

“The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results. Elijah was as human as we are, and yet…when he prayed again, the sky sent down rain…”
-James 5:16-18

It’s intriguing to me that, at Elijah’s request, God sent fire from the sky without delay proving Himself the one, true God before all Israel, and then He made Elijah wait for rain.

Would the story be different if Elijah had decided God wasn’t listening after the first six times he asked? I think I would have decided that I’d misunderstood how things were going to play out and God wasn’t going to answer me this time.  It’s easy to decide that asking God for help is not going to work and to move on. It’s harder to ask again when you haven’t seen an answer. But that’s what Elijah did. He stayed kneeling and sent out the watch. Nothing happened and so he asked again.

It’s a hard thought to grapple with because, ultimately, even though He is able to, God doesn’t always give what I ask for. It’s especially challenging when I’m dealing with illness or financial trouble or something that feels a lot more personal than the weather. Sometimes He sends relief; sometimes He asks me to endure, and I never know which answer to expect.

But here is what the word of God says: the earnest prayer of simple humans holds great power. Why?  Because we serve a God who is absolutely limitless and who delights to use His power on behalf of simple humans who will choose to call on Him and only Him.

Perhaps I need to learn, like Elijah, to keep asking. Not because I can guarantee what God will do by asking a certain number of times, but because, even in my waiting, even in my disappointments, I have not lost sight of what He is able to do for those who ask.

With a God who is able to do more than I can ask or imagine, maybe I should ALWAYS be asking for more.

Lord-

Teach me, even when you do not answer as I expect, to ask unwavering because I am certain that YOU are where my answer is found, even if I am not certain of what my answer is.

May I come each morning, just as earnestly as the day before, expecting you to hear my prayers and to give good things.  Your ways are not my ways, but you say that nothing is too hard for you, and you call yourself a generous giver. So teach me, Lord, to be content and to endure well where I am, but also to stay kneeling, to look to you and to ask again.

Teach me to keep coming, to keep asking, because I remember who you are and I because I have learned to be confident that you always have more to give.

“…For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way…a small rudder makes a huge ship turn wherever the pilot chooses to go, even though the winds are strong.”

–James 3:2, 4

 

The lesson of James 3: if I were to choose one thing to adjust, attention to my words would make the biggest difference. I cannot control the winds, but I can improve how I manage the rudder.

The Amplified version says it this way:

“…Look at the ships, even though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are still directed by a very small rudder wherever the impulse of the helmsman determines.”

Perhaps that is why James describes it as such a feat. It’s not just the technique of adjusting the rudder, but the impulse of the helmsman that is so difficult to master. It is not only choosing the right words that is so challenging, but gaining mastery over the impulses of the heart.

“…For out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.”

–Matthew 12:34

The tongue is the vessel of the heart’s impulses, and so it comes back to this: I must diligently tend to my heart (Proverbs 4:23). Its desires and leanings steer the whole ship. It is well worth my time to take stock of them.

This morning, my heart’s impulses are selfish. I feel starved for time with friends, hungry for emotional connection, jealous of people who can get into a comfortable position (oh pregnancy…), frustrated with how little it takes to wear me out, eager for the independence of a vehicle, and unsettled without a home of my own. In short, I feel dissatisfied.

My heart says, “Go after these things! You cannot be happy until you have them!” And no matter what the current situation is, that seems to be its theme song.

I have people pouring into me, caring for me, giving me a place to stay, lending me their vehicles, rearranging their schedules for me. I have a baby on the way that we prayed and prayed and prayed for. I have so much and yet I want more. The heart’s natural impulses are rarely thankful.

But God says to give my body as a living sacrifice, not demand sacrifices from others. His words challenge me not to get my circumstances to transform until I have all I want, but to let Him transform me, so that all I want is Him, even if my circumstances do not change at all.

“I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all He has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice…Don’t copy the behavior and customs of the world, but Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think…”

–Romans 12:1-2

The winds may blow strong, but the One who could alter the wind with a whisper still places more emphasis on changing the helmsman.

Lord-

Teach me to let you transform me.

Change my heart to be thankful rather than dissatisfied, willing to lay down comfort and preference to see that the needs of others are met, eager to offer my words even if I have little else to offer – words from a heart that has its eyes on you and its impulses in check.

And may I learn that I don’t change in any lasting way because of my determination to improve, but because of your power, your work, and the growth that you give in my life. I do not transform myself. I let you transform me.

So change me, Lord. I want you to teach me good rudder control. But beyond that, I want you to transform the impulses of the helmsman. My words, my tone, my facial expressions: may they not be a polite mask over my impatient, grasping turmoil, but the gentle and easy outflow of a heart that sees its Savior and knows it has all it needs.

Set this restless heart on you so that it  words may be helpful and good, no matter what the winds are like.

“And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, He will certainly care for you…”

–Matthew 6:30

 

I had to get a PICC line placed yesterday.

I’m pretty sure I regress to something like 5 years old when I have to go through a procedure. I should probably be one of the most calm and collected patients since I perform them on other people, but no. I am not. I am not calm. I am not collected.

The doctor was trying to explain all the clinical advantages of the PICC line and the research and I’m just holding in tears and attempting to remain a respectable adult and somehow still communicate “yes I understand, but WILL IT HURT??”

I broke down and made my mom drop what she was doing and come to the hospital so I wasn’t alone. I almost lost it when my arm went numb. I just wanted to be unconscious when they said I would feel some “warmth” running down my arm and I realized that it was blood.

The PICC is in. We all survived. But I am traumatized.

I am so thankful God designed bodies and minds that heal.

12 weeks to go in this pregnancy, and I can’t wait to hold this little munchkin, but I’m also staring down the hurdle of labor and delivery. That is the truly traumatic part of pregnancy and I just can’t even process it because I haven’t even made it to the hurdle yet. I’m not even running. I’m over here crawling my way forward, sobbing and helpless. I am not strong or brave or tough enough for this.

Pregnant. Emotional. In transition.

2800 miles from a husband who’s still a full week away from starting the drive.

New doctors, new care plan, new devices. So many unknowns. And I am raw from the changes.

But today, I will look again to a Savior who treads above the tumult.

He does not waste my difficulty.

He heals my damage.

He freely gives new grace and new strength when mine is exhausted.

And I do not face any of this alone. 

I’m finding that much of what sets me off-balance are fresh assaults of the same, old thoughts:

Why can’t I just have a normal pregnancy like so many other people?

Why can’t something just go like I expected it to?

Why do I break down so easily?

What if I don’t have what I need?

But it is high time to think on truth and order my thoughts in light of Him.

My story does not look like everyone else’s, but that is okay. I can be satisfied with what I have because I have Him. (Hebrews 13:5-6)

I don’t need to be able to anticipate everything to be okay. He knows the course and He is leading. I don’t change course easily, but I am learning how to take those changes in stride, and it is okay to be a beginner and to struggle in the learning process.

I don’t need to be tough or impressive, I can just humble myself and be me. God made me sensitive, things affect me easily, and that is okay. He promises His perfect strength is present with and sufficient for all my weaknesses.

“My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.
–2 Corinthians 12:9

I will always have what I need. I will not always know what that looks like, but I can breathe and assume that I will be okay because this is not a random dealing out of events and circumstances. As up in the air as everything seems right now, these things are set in order by a God who loves me and has promised to care for me. What I don’t get in specifics, I get in certainty. He will certainly care for me. 

So I can lay the questions to rest, dry my face, and breathe in this reassurance once again:

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty…His faithful promises are your armor and protection. Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night…Do not dread the disease that stalks in the darkness nor the disaster that strikes at midday…

The Lord says:

I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer. I will be with them in trouble…”

–Psalm 91, excerpts

 

 

P.S. That husband of mine figured out how to get flowers to me from 2800 miles away.

 

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. So do not be attracted by strange, new ideas. Your strength comes from God’s grace…may He equip you with all you need for doing His will. May He produce in you, through the power of Jesus Christ

every good thing

that is pleasing to Him.”

–Hebrews 13:8-9, 21

 

I made it to Florida safe and sound and was swept into hugs and greetings and excited wedding preparations. This morning, laying awake and listening to the rain at 4:30 am (thank you baby kicks), I noticed I felt nervous and wondered why.

As I journaled out my thoughts, here’s what I came to:

I am emotionally full, loving all the activity and surrounded by the relationships I have missed so sorely. But at the same time, I feel the tension of every task I want to be a part of and every conversation I want to savor pulling on my limited physical reserves. In short…I’m still fighting nausea and weakness, I run out of steam at the end of the day, and I’m worried that what I have to give is not enough.

My sister and her kids are driving an hour and a half just to spend the afternoon with me today, and I’m afraid I’m not exciting enough to make the drive worthwhile! I fear being a disappointment. 

I asked the Lord to help me settle my heart and I came across these verses in Hebrews.

I loved the reminder to stop looking for new ideas or strategies or rules.. Jesus Christ hasn’t changed and so neither has my answer to the challenges and demands before me. Always, always, the answer is Christ. There is no new way to approach this beast called life.

I need Jesus. He is the best I have to offer. And He is enough.

My strength comes from Him. He offers the grace I need so badly. He produces, through His power, good things that please Him in my life. He does not look to me to come up with kindness, humility, selflessness, trust…He produces them in me. He IS all those things in me. The qualities and characteristics of a beautiful, holy life are not out of reach for me, they are mine because of Him.

I was reminded this week of the people of Israel, backed into a corner with an approaching Egyptian army on one side, a vast sea on the other, and no way out. Moses’ answer to their panic was this:

“Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again. The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.”

–Exodus 14:13-14

No matter what has me panicked, the roles haven’t changed.

His job: Rescue. Fight for me. Prove His faithfulness. Be impressive.

My job: Stand still. Wait. Watch Him work. Keep calm. 

Always, the Lord is drawing us into difficult and tense situations, not so that we will perform, but so we can see HIM work. The tension is a test to prove His strength, not mine.

If I was the main act, there would be good cause for worry.  But He does the equipping and the producing and I am not the performer here,  I am just the stage on which His incredible life shows itself. 

I do not have to worry that I will disappoint. I can just ask Him to be who He is in my life, and I know I’m offering the very best.

 

Lord-

Thank you for working with my life, my heart. Help me to stop my endless strategizing and people-pleasing and worrying and just behold you. You are more than enough for all this day holds.

 

 

“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. What you say flows from what is in your heart.”

–Luke 6:45

Today, I’m sharing a tool I use in my house to keep up with the cleaning and organization. How is this relevant to my writing? Because I think the way I go about my small, daily tasks is an outflow of my heart just as much as my words are.

Keeping up with my house is an area where I struggle with a lot of condemnation. I don’t tend to see the successes; I see the failures, the not-enoughs, the comparison with others, the perfect Pinterest boards. Anyone else in the same boat?

A few months ago, I read through Emily Ley’s awesome book, Grace Not Perfection.

One of my biggest take-aways was her challenge to be careful of how I am speaking to my own heart. If harsh criticism isn’t effective at motivating other people, it’s not effective when I turn it on myself, and it endangers my interactions with others, even when they’re not the target.

Ultimately, I can want to be a kind and patient and gentle person, but my treatment of other people flows out of the thoughts of my heart. If those thoughts are constantly irritable, critical and harsh, that tends to be what spills out on others. I can’t be one person toward myself and another toward everyone else. Who I am on the inside will show up on the outside, no matter what my goals are. 

Emily Ley quoted Galatians 5:13-14:

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use that freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

She went on to say, “If I loved and nurtured my neighbor (or my children) the same way I care for myself sometimes, I wouldn’t be doing any of them a whole lot of good.”

The statement floored me. I am the exact same.

As I mulled it over, the concept formed into a question:

If I spoke to another person the way I’m speaking to myself right now, would it be loving?

This question is something God has been using to help me sort through how I speak to myself. It helps me discern which thoughts are from Him and which aren’t.

I’ve started to see that, a lot of the time, I am exaggerated, cruel and thoughtless in the way I describe myself, talk to myself, and even in the way I try to spur myself forward. I tend to think that I need to be harsh, that I need to beat myself up, that I need to be afraid of some terrible result, in order to be motivated; but that thinking is not honoring to Him.

Our hearts are designed to receive gentleness and respond to encouragement. Confidence and the willingness to try are nurtured, not beat into people. And I am no different.

If, instead, I am kind, gracious, and loving toward myself when facing a struggle or a failure, I perform better than when I am hard on myself, plus I have that same encouragement to offer toward others when they need it. Anger and disappointment with myself leave me drained, but I am finding that choosing kindness toward my own heart is one of the most loving things I can do for other people, because it produces the emotional margin I need to pour into them.

So maybe the first step in “serving them with humility” is to tend to the unkindness on the inside. It is pride that fuels my relentless demands and exaggerated reactions. It is pride that screams “I expected so much more of you!!!” But Christ calls me to humility, and humility accepts grace.

The way God deals with me and the way He asks me to deal with others is not harsh or critical. So if that’s how I’m speaking to myself, it’s not because I’m following His lead. Little by little I’m starting to see that God does not ask me to treat anyone like that, not even myself.

Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.

–Colossians 4:6

Don’t use foul and abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.

–Ephesians 4:29

A servant of the Lord must not quarrel but must be kind to everyone, be able to teach, and be patient with difficult people. Gently instruct those who oppose the truth…

–2 Timothy 2:24-25

For if our heart condemns us, God is greater than our hearts, and knows all things.

–1 John 3:20

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.

–Romans 8:1

For from His fullness, we have all received grace upon grace.

–John 1:16

…bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ…

–2 Corinthians 10:5

 

After pondering these verses, I started asking myself:

When you speak to yourself, are you unkind? Are you abusive? Is it helpful?

I realized that I need to consider more than just fear tactics to get myself to do the right things.

I thought about when others have come graciously alongside and encouraged me and I realized, I HAVE FULL PERMISSION to treat my heart the same way. But I DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION to leave grace out of the conversation, even in my own thoughts. 

So I looked for a baby step I could take to make this practical.

I reflected on my normal patterns of thinking and I realized I am harshest with myself when it came to my marriage and my house. These arenas, closest and most familiar to me, are the areas where I have the highest expectations for myself and where I deal out the most hurtful words.

I tried to think of a simple outward adjustment I could make that would remind me to be inwardly kind, and I landed on my chore list.

I found that, in my normal routine, I jot down a bajillion errands, chores and tasks I need to get to on a piece of paper, I get through as many as I can, and at the end of the day, all I can focus on is the unfinished list. Especially because I typically work on a rotating schedule with 24-hour shifts, Wednesday chores would get pushed to Thursday and Thursday would get overwhelming.

I’d work at my list like crazy, living for the sweet moment I could cross off the final to-do. But for one reason or another (usually my hyper-optimistic idea of what I can possibly get done in one day), there were always items left on the list. And in those items, I read condemnation.

It didn’t matter if I had been up all night flying patients, or if I’d gotten sick, or I’d completed a huge project that took a larger chunk of time, I would berate myself for what I hadn’t managed to get done, and I would walk away discouraged. 

But when I applied the challenge to be encouraging and kind in my thoughts to this area, when I decided to talk to myself the way I would to a human being with feelings who may need some encouragement, I realized something I hadn’t been taking stock of:

The housework is never done, and it’s not because I’m failing.

It’s a cycle of tasks and chores that require constant upkeep because they endure constant use. Nothing’s inherently wrong because it’s time to change the sheets again. It just means time has passed since the last time.

I decided, at least in the area of housework, to make it easier on myself to have right thought patterns.  If I wanted to encourage someone I loved to be faithful with housework without making them feel bad about what they hadn’t gotten to, I decided I would just structure each job as an accomplishment in and of itself rather than making a totally finished list the goal.

Hence, I nixed the list and drew a circle. (Ok fine, a square, because those are easier to cut out of paper, but you get the idea).

I put a happy quote from Emily Ley’s book in the middle, set up the chores as a cycle, and added a magnet to the fridge so that I could move it around the circle-square whenever I had the time and energy to tackle one of the jobs. It was a way to stay semi-regular with the cleaning and keep it on a rotation without provoking criticism if I had a day where I didn’t get to the chores.

At least for me, it made a huge difference. That little change was life-giving, tangible grace. It was just one small adjustment, but it was a daily way I could replace a distraction that spoke of my failure with a reminder His grace, His goodness, His strength.

It is one way I can agree with Him and say

“Today, there is no condemnation.” 

Sometimes, something as simple as changing the chore chart can be spiritual, because it’s a step where I am taking God at His word. And I think doing that, little by little, in even the most daily things, is how I start to trust Him with the rest of life.

 

 

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Feel free to print, copy, modify, etc!

I would love to hear about the baby steps that have been helpful for you!

 

 

“For the word of God is alive and powerful…it exposes our innermost thoughts and desires. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before His eyes, and He is the one to whom we are accountable.”

-Hebrews 4:12-13

 

I was reflecting this week on the difference between reading the Bible to become an expert on what it says, and giving my heart motives over to its scrutiny in real time. There is an important contrast between seeking mastery and seeking to hear from the Master.

It’s easy to decide in the time crunch of the many things on my agenda that since I grew up hearing what the Bible says, I can get by on what I already know. But I’m learning that I need to hear from God on this day, too, rather than living on left-over lessons. I can assume that I’ve woken up with my priorities in order and that my actions are being driven by the right reasons, but that’s rarely the case. Honestly, I am in dangerous territory when I cease to be wary of my own heart, when I feel I do not need the help of God’s word to understand myself and the world afresh.

The word of God exposes my innermost thoughts and desires for what they really are. It lays things plain and bare and shows me when I am using the word “responsibility” to cover up that I’m really just worrying and when I have substituted “busy” for “faithful.” I can memorize the Word of God and still live a life that is sorely lacking in love. What happens when I rely on just my memory instead of making time for fresh truth? I remember what suits me at the time. I do what looks right on the outside, but I am driven by selfish ambition.

“If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing.”

–1 Corinthians 13:2

At least in my life, this is pattern: when I decide I understand the Bible well enough for now and leave behind a regular quiet time, pride is at work. I give the right answers. I tolerate others, but I don’t love them. I love me and I go after whatever I want, instead of giving myself away. I forget my calling, I forget to love, I forget my God, and that forgetfulness shows up in my irritable, impatient reactions. I can hide how I feel, but it sucks the joy from my day.

Just like regular financial giving is a way of taking my trust off of my money and putting it back on God as my provider; regular quiet time is a way of taking my trust off of my own understanding, and putting it back on His guidance. It is a way of humbling myself by asking Him to show me what it is I DON’T know and DON’T see, even in my own heart. (Psalm 139:23-24)

I cannot safely decide I know exactly what God thinks or how he would have me handle a situation without asking Him again. His ways are “past finding out” and his judgments are “unsearchable.” (Romans 11:33)  That is why I am told to:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, in all of your ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct your paths.”

–Proverbs 3:5-6

I may be familiar with scriptural principles, but that is not the same as a daily, living relationship where I am guided step by step.

The challenge?  I avoid reading the Bible sometimes, even when I know I need it. Here’s my guess as to why: regular time reading God’s Word usually shows me something I’m doing wrong. For once, I would just like to hear that I’m getting something right! So I look for likes on facebook and kudos at work and I set aside my Bible for “later,” because I may need it, but I need to feel accepted and approved of more.

But in Hebrews, the statement that the Word of God reveals the thoughts and intents of the heart and that all is laid bare before Him is followed by the reassurance that He is gracious and understanding toward weakness (verses 15-16). He tells me He’ll point out my issues, but THEN He tells me to come to Him boldly for help and He will give it!  I am not being called to the principal’s office, I am being pulled into a huddle with the coach. And His words hold warm approval even as they spur me forward to trust Him for new things.

I do not need to fear or avoid the sharp words of God, I need to fear what I become when I harden toward what they say, when I stop listening, when I think I understand things well enough on my own, and when I run out into the world desperate for the precious acceptance that He has already given me in Christ.

I have a God who sees all things, to Him only I am accountable. I do not have to measure up to the expectations of anyone else.

I do not have to have it put together, nice and neat and perfect. I am not accountable to the pressures that demand I shove down what’s on the inside and make everything look good. I do not need the facebook reassurance, because I am accountable to the God who dares me to bare what is inside to Him and promises that He will be kind to me in my vulnerability. 

This is what that God asks of me in Hebrews chapter 4:

1. Hear my voice.
2. Let my words inform you on the inner workings of your own heart.
3. See me as the kind High Priest I am toward you, rather than turning away from my correction.

He does not reveal my sin to crush me, but to show me new areas where He can give me hope and grace. He does not make me aware of my weaknesses to discourage me, but to help me see the new territory where His strength will make all the difference.

 

Lord-

Teach my heart to seek your words, to listen to them and soften toward what they say, even when it’s hard to hear. You are understanding toward even my biggest weaknesses, and you instruct the messiest of hearts to come boldly, for you have made them clean.