“And so, dear brothers and sisters…think carefully about this Jesus…

Every house has a builder, but the one who built everything is God…and we are God’s house, if we keep our courage and remain confident in our hope in Christ…

Be careful then, dear brothers and sisters. Make sure that your own hearts are not evil and unbelieving, turning you away from the living God. You must warn each other every day…so that none of you will be deceived by sin and hardened against God…

Who was it that rebelled against God, even though they heard his voice?…we see that because of their unbelief they were not able to enter his rest.”

–Hebrews 3, excerpts

Think carefully.

Be careful.

Make sure.

Warn each other.

Why?

Because this is what is at stake: I may not experience God’s rest if I am so caught up in doubting Him that I refuse to do what He tells me.

If I follow my heart when it begins to question God, I forfeit my chance of rest.

I’ve seen it in my own life. Often, when I am most restless and full of angst, there is a train of thought I can follow back to some disappointment or unmet expectation where my heart decided God was wrong. I don’t even always realize I decided that. Often I just reacted to the situation, I was hurt, I was frustrated, and I stopped being careful with the thoughts of my heart. I let my hope and confidence fall and started to wonder if God cared, why would He let this happen? I stopped being careful to be content and I landed in the painful restlessness of a soul that is so caught up in its circumstances it has lost sight of its Savior.

How do I stop it from happening? How do I face the hard stuff of life and feel it in all its unfairness and still resist the tendency to turn away from God and harden against Him?

“…think carefully about this Jesus.” (verse 1)

“…keep our courage and remains confident in our hope in Christ.” (verse 6)

“Above all else, guard your heart,
    for everything you do flows from it.” (Proverbs 4:23)

I have got to realize when I have lost my confidence. I must learn to discern when I have placed it in something other than Him: my hard work, my bank account, my job, my friends, my personality, whatever shape it takes. Confidence that has fallen on something other than Christ is lost confidence, and it will sink me.

God is the builder who is crafting good things in me, but He does not build where my heart resists him. He has said He will shape me until I look like Christ, but He will wait for a heart that once again places its confidence in Him.

To build before that point would result in a shaky foundation

But if I trust in His word, He will build rest in my life.

If I think carefully about this Jesus, my heart will find the encouragement it needs.

Lord-

Teach me to be cautious of my own heart. How quickly it disagrees with you and turns away in a huff, not realizing what it costs to take my eyes off of you.

I need you, how I need you. Help me see when my gaze has drifted and make it my daily task to think carefully about this Jesus.

He was a stumbling block for many, but great loss awaited those who let that stumbling be the barrier that kept them away.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.
    Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!”

–Psalm 34:8

“God’s promise of entering his rest still stands, so we ought to tremble with fear that some of you might fail to experience it. “

–Hebrews 4:1

“Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, Lord. Repeat them in our day, in our time make them known…”

– Habakkuk 3:2

“What do you do when you’re in the valley? You remember what God has done. And you dare to believe that what He’s done before, He will do again.”

-Craig Groeschel, Hope in the Dark

For the past 3 or 4 months, I’ve thought about filling out a sticker with “Hello, my name is Nausea” and just wearing that, because it felt like my personality had been hijacked by the Hyperemesis – that I was 90% nausea and only 10% Beka.

I think when you’re sick for an extended period of time, you tend to come out the other side of it a little altered, and while you’re in the midst of all the shifting it’s easy to feel like there’s no familiar territory, not even in your own heart. To me…that looked like a lot of blank pages in a journal I normally filled to the margins; crisp, white paper rather than markings that made sense of my world.

But finally, finally, I’m starting to feel like myself again! I’m still pretty dependent on meds and rest, but the nausea has moved to the background. I have preferences and goals and ideas climbing back up to the surface, and I now recognize the person I see in the mirror.

I also see changes: changes in my thinking, changes in me. New hues where old ones have faded or overlapped, new certainties, new hesitations; but I think they are, all of them, landmarks. Way-points that tell of a good God who never wastes difficulty.

A friend and I were talking about the recovery process and looking back on sick seasons. She spoke of a similar concept and called them “stakes in the ground:” markers she could look back on that reminded her of God’s faithfulness.

I loved the idea and I think it’s an important part of any recovery, to acknowledge what has been hard, but also to see the stakes in the ground as you survey the terrain.

I think we move forward from hard things always carrying heavy memories, but stakes in the ground define them, keep them balanced, make them worth carrying and maybe even lighten the load. Perhaps they mark out who we are even more than our experiences do, because they tie us to an unchanging God rather than to all that fluctuates.

Stakes in the ground hold steady when stressors and heavy seasons come again and threaten to take our fragile hearts under.

So I will learn to put down stakes. I think I can’t afford to move forward without them.

Lord-

I stand in awe of your work in my life.

Thank you for inviting me to come to you with my daily, practical needs. Thank you for teaching me that I can be confident you will give your guidance and help here and now, just as you always have to those who look to you.

Even as I breathe relief, I feel so out of my depth toward the decisions that lie ahead. I don’t know what’s best. I don’t know what to do. But I will put down stakes and gaze back at your faithfulness, then I will look ahead and watch for you with expectation.

For you give anchoring hope as I look to you.

“God also bound himself with an oath, so that those who received the promise could be perfectly sure that he would never change his mind…Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls…”

–Hebrews 6:17-19

“Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth. My health may fail, and my spirit grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever…I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter…”

–Psalm 73:25-26, 28

I’m 18 weeks along today.

80% of Hyperemesis Gravidarum cases completely resolve by 20 weeks. No nausea. No vomiting. A normal pregnancy from here on out. In the next 2 weeks, things may drastically improve for me. I hope for that.

But my health may fail.

I have to start acknowledging that at 18 weeks, I’m not better yet, and so I may be the 20%. The whole pregnancy may be this way. If I’m honest, that persistent thought terrifies me.

But my heart has to learn to hold that possibility without fear.

I have to learn how to let Him be my heart’s strength, how to let Him be what I desire most. Then I will be able to ask for a lesser desire and not stake ALL MY DESIRE on what I ask.

I am not guaranteed what I ask for, but I am guaranteed Him. And He is enough.

I can learn to hope and expect help from Him, to know it is not hard at all for Him to turn things around for me, and to still to cry out:

Even if you don’t

My hope is you alone.

-MercyMe

I have come a long way with how I handle worry. I am growing in my ability to face financial uncertainty and settle in my heart that my needs will be met, even if I don’t know how at the time.

I’m learning that I can allow torment as I anticipate what’s ahead, or I can rest in what I know of God’s character. I can wonder and worry and grow completely distracted with all the what if’s. Or I can trust that He will give me what I need, generously, abundantly, lavishly, just like He gives Himself.

But I have yet to learn how to say “no” to worry over sickness, over pain, and over loss.

I have yet to learn that it is the same choice.

I cannot know what He will allow, but I can know He will help me face it, and so I can spend today acting as if I will be okay, because I will be.

I will see, when I get there, that it was either better or worse than I expected, but that:

1. He was faithful.
2. I had what I needed.

My expectations may not be met, but my needs will be.

So I can let worry steal my joy as I wait to see how the details pan out, or I can decide that I know enough of the big picture, and it’s not worth my time to obsess over the details I can’t control and can’t figure out ahead of time anyway.

I can give my attention to fear, or I can give it to Him.  But I have His blessing to choose not to worry about it. I have His go-ahead to set it aside and go about my day as if I will be okay, because I will be. In fact, I honor Him when my actions assume that I’ll have what I need; as they add up, they form a life that takes God at His word, that makes practical decisions and takes real risks based on confidence in His promises.

Lord-

I can spend my day planning and constructing shelters from an unknown, unseen storm, or I can take shelter in you.

I can be overwhelmed by all the threats, all the possibilities, all the noise in the world, or I can fall silent and be overwhelmed by you.

My health may fail, but I have you. And so this morning, while the wind and the passing traffic and the problems and the construction and the nausea and the frightened thoughts are not silent,

I will yet fall silent before you and know this:

You rule from On High and my story is in your hand, held precious. I don’t know all the details, but I do know this:

1. You will be faithful.
2. I will have what I need.

So help my heart to be brave and unconcerned, to fall silent and learn of fearless hope, to face the possibility that my health may fail, that things may be worse than I expect, and to say “no” to worry anyway.

“But the Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth be silent before Him.”

–Habakkuk 2:20

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

–Matthew 6:34

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.
    From where does my help come?
 My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth.”

–Psalm 121:1-2

I will never be done taking in how good the Lord is.

He heard us and he answered. He gave us a new little life, and even through hyperemesis, chest pain, shortness of breath, tachycardia, weakness, dizziness, hypotension, pallor, cramping, 1 ambulance ride, 3 hospital visits, 7 rounds of IV fluids, 7 nausea medications, 10 weeks of daily losing food and fluid and weight and sometimes hope, he has kept that little life safe. 

He didn’t have to. Even as I closed my eyes Saturday and laid my exhausted, dizzy head back on the hospital bed pleading with Him to help, to protect, I knew this:

He is good no matter what happens here.

I can face loss and heartache, sickness and pain, and He is good. He is all we need. He walks with us. He doesn’t waste what has been hard.

From the beginning it has been a chore to untangle my heart from its desperate bid for control, from its pattern of constant worry over everything. From the beginning, it has been a challenge to hold this little life before the Almighty and acknowledge that it is too precious for me to handle; that the only thing I can do is put it in God’s capable hands because He is able to keep what I commit to Him.

…For I know the one in whom I trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him…

–2 Timothy 1:12

From the beginning I have known that great love comes with risk of great loss. I must let this baby be His, stewarded to me for a time. If I see it as only mine, my heart will strangle and suffocate with stifling fear over how to keep it safe.

And I want more for my son than safe.

We are naming him after a warrior for a reason. I want him to plunge into life, fierce and fearless, because he knows the Living God and that none can stand against Him. I want him to face risk and take leaps and find Jehovah on the other side, faithful.

If the kid is anything like me, he’s going to have some scars. May they paint a picture of a life lived in hard pursuit of his Savior because then, they will be worth it.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I read in a pregnancy book, “if you’re worried about miscarriage, welcome to the rest of your life.”

It went on to say that when you finally reach the safe window for miscarriage, you’ll worry about birth defects, and then labor injuries, learning disabilities, falls on the playground, bullying at school, kidnapping, car crashes, college…the worry never ends because this baby has your heart now and there will always be some new danger that threatens it. The book said to get used to worrying.

But I say no.

I know I’ll worry and I know it’s normal, but I say no to just accepting that worry will rule from now on. Fear need not rule my heart, even when I cannot ensure that what I love is safe.

Peace guards the heart that brings its fears to Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

I can lay my worries before Him and then I am free, free to breathe and to try and to forge ahead into the unknown. He goes with me. And I can teach Abishai who He is, or I can teach him to stay safe at all costs, I can teach him not to make me worry.

But safe is not the best I can do for Abishai.

Knowing Jehovah is. 

Oh Lord-

Help me to show my son who you are. Teach me to let him be a warrior, a leader, a follower, an adventurer. I love that Cody’s first happy thoughts about having a boy were hiking and hunting and playing with sharp sticks. I love that my husband is not afraid of dirt or scrapes or the woods at night; that he scrambles up steep cliffs and gazes at the stars.

Help me to trust you, Lord, so I can let them be men as you intended. Men who face danger and find Jehovah in the mist. Men whose stories tell of giants and lions and dark places; of who they became when they looked to a God mightier than them all.

You do not always promise safe, but you promise close. You invite us to step further, a little further, out onto the water, out of our comfort zone, but always toward you. You promise you are near, even when we feel lonelier than ever. (Psalm 119:151)

Lord, I want my son to walk close with you. Help me to remember who you are when that scares me. For the same Psalm that says “You have shown your people hard things…” also cries out:

“…through God we will do valiantly…”

-Psalm 60:3, 12

Help me, Lord, that I may raise valiant men. Prepare Abishai’s little heart, even now, to know you and to be transformed by it. For you make us more than we are.

Prepare our hearts for the precious task before us. As Tedd Tripp says in Shepherding a Child’s Heart,

“You may not try to shape the lives of your children as pleases you, but as please Him…Your right to discipline your children is tied to what God has called you to do, not to your own agenda.”

My agenda would be guided by safety, convenience, and the desire for my son to do what I say.

But I can do better for Abishai than my agenda. I can teach him to obey your voice.

I will keep on obeying your instructions
    forever and ever.
I will walk in freedom,
    for I have devoted myself to your commandments

–Psalm 119:44-45

For a season, you have given us a son to steward. May we use our time teaching him to obey you, so that when the season of our authority fades away, we have done more than keep him safe, we have taught him where to find freedom.

So here’s to the making of valiant men.

We will get there only by your grace. Teach our hearts to remember that it is enough, and to keep looking to the hills for our help.

Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.

–Romans 8:18

I think one of the most reassuring thoughts during these last couple months is that we may not get answers for why we face hard things, but we know that our God doesn’t waste them.

In his hands, pain and brokenness are more than just losses. If a hard experience has left me calloused and hardened, He is not finished with it yet. He works with even the most awful situations to work in me gentleness and grace and confidence in Him. And He promises that, as hard as right now is, it cannot be compared to what He is preparing for us.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.

–Ephesians 3:20

I take hope in this: on my sickest, weakest day, when I have the least to offer, this is STILL the day that the Lord has made. He is still using it, working in it. He is not wasting it, even when I’m not the one being productive. I can rest and be helpless and He is faithful to use this time to make me more like Him anyway.

And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.

–2 Corinthians 3:18

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 13:21

It was never up to me, my preparation, and my hard work to produce growth and maturity in my life. Good growth comes slow. Good growth comes with growing pains. And God produces good growth when we are at a loss to produce anything at all.

So let me say it again:

This is the day the Lord has made.
We will rejoice and be glad in it.

–Psalm 118:24

My God has made this day and I can be glad in it because of what HE is using it for. Not a moment is wasted in His capable hands.

This isn’t Wasted – music video by Beka Burns

“There was a man named Jabez who was more honorable than any of his brothers…He was the one who prayed to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” And God granted him his request.”

–1 Chronicles 4:9-10

I’ve been doing more reading than writing lately. I write to process life and life has been difficult to process. I didn’t know how to handle what I’m facing and didn’t have much to offer anyone else. (If you want specifics, see Hyperemesis Gravidarum).

Cody encouraged me to lay aside the burden to produce and just have a season of taking in. He pointed out that I, myself, am in the process of writing a devotional for people in busy or difficult seasons, who might benefit from a quick read where someone else has done the digging and drawing out for them. He said that if I’m going to write for this audience, sometimes I need to be willing to be this audience. He said it’s okay, even in a relationship with the Lord, to be sick and let the other person do the talking for a while.

During this season, I have been so encouraged by Kara Tippett’s devotional The Hardest Peace: encountering God’s love in suffering and sickness.

My favorite nugget?

“Your story is a good story.”

She went on to talk about how our culture views success, beauty and stuff as the hallmarks of a good story.

I think that’s part of why we are so quick to escape to our phones, our social media and our netflix when things are challenging or painful. We want to be part of a good story and ours doesn’t seem good anymore. 

My heart desperately needed the reminder that my story is a good story, even when it’s a hard story. Maybe yours does, too.

Kara mentioned that we are not the author of our own story, we are the characters. This, too, I needed. I needed to remember that it’s not my fault if I can’t seem to find a way to make this better. Life doesn’t follow my script. 

Apparently, I’m not writing this thing. God is. He is good and He is in control of it. He knows my frame. He knows my limits. He has promised sufficient grace. So I can relax and be a character. For even when I can do nothing, God is writing, and He writes good stories.

Kara wrote this about the prayer of Jabez:

“I am not accusing the prayer of Jabez as being a false, unfair prayer…but I think we should all be honest with our love of that verse. We all wanted more and ease, and we wanted to use God to get it. But we are not the author of our story. We are the characters.”

Disclaimer: I think Jabez is great! But I agree with her that his story is a hard one when you’re sick and not getting better. God gave Jabez land and kept him from trouble and pain….why doesn’t He answer me that way? What did Jabez get right that I didn’t?

For the last eight weeks, the number one danger to my morale has been comparison. I cannot go there. There are stories lived right alongside of mine that look so much easier, and I nosedive when I wonder why. God writes different stories for different people, I don’t always see the whole picture, and I don’t always get the answers I want.

But this has been my go-to verse:

Peter asked Jesus, “What about him, Lord?”

Jesus replied, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? As for you, follow me.” 

–John 21:21-22

So many questions don’t have a direct answer from Jesus. But for the “what about them?” question, I have my answer: You follow me.

So here is how I cope with Jabez (because, let’s face it, right now it’s a rough story for me). He was honorable and upright and I think his prayer was a good one, but I also think maybe he could have asked for more. Jabez asked for territory and protection and ease and he got it; and his entire story is two verses long.

But Moses asked to see God.

Jacob wrestled for God’s blessing.

Joseph dreamed.

David longed for the courts of the Almighty.

Solomon wished for wisdom from God himself.

Daniel purposed to honor Him and faced down lions.

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego walked with Him through flames.

There is more to be desired than our world’s version of a good story..

Their stories were not easy. Their stories were not two verses long. Their stories were not about enlarging their territory, avoiding difficulty and staying safe. Their stories show that God has more to give than just success and ease and treasure. Their stories rubbed shoulders with glory.

And given the choice, I would take the difficult story where I saw a more of Jehovah. 

So it’s okay with me that my story looks different than Jabez.

So Lord-

May my prayers ask for more than a successful, easy life. This life is not the end-all. It is time spent; it is the camping ground on our way to so much more. And it can be spent arranging comfort or chasing after wonder, but it will not be defined by both.

May I lay aside comparisons and the question of “what about them?” and dwell instead on difficult stories where you showed yourself faithful.

May I learn to have a hard time and wish for more than relief. If I allow relief to be the only thing I want, I have chosen unhappy disappointment for all the time I wait for it. If I can learn to want more than relief, hope does not have to be so far out of reach.

So may I desire more. May I seek growth and learn endurance. May I wish for sweet moments and experience a joy that runs deeper than the difficulty. May I see who you are from a new angle. May I invite you to showcase yourself in my life.

Help me to desire more of you in my story.

Teach my heart to look beyond the challenge to the treasure I have in you, to the calling I have been given to pursue you through it.

Oh Author, help me to believe that you are crafting the details of my life, that this day is a good day because you have made it, and that

my story is a good story even when it’s a hard story.

“But as for me, I trust in you, O Lord; I say, “You are my God.”

My times are in your hand…

–Psalm 31:14-15

“On the tenth day of the appointed month…you must deny yourselves. Neither native-born Israelites nor foreigners living among you may do any kind of work…It will be a Sabbath day of complete rest for you…

…This is a permanent law for you, to purify the people of Israel from their sins, making them right with the Lord, once a year.”

–Leviticus 16, excerpts

It was significant to me that on the Day of Atonement – the one day of the year designated for clearing the slate and making Israel right with the Lord – no one but the priest was allowed to work.

The priest worked on their behalf, but the people could not make things right for themselves. On this day, they were not allowed to do. The day when they were made right with God was also “a day of complete rest” for them.

Can you imagine an entire day where the “to do” list is forbidden? No errand, big or small. No cleaning. Not a single job. All the work is still there. Urgent. Calling to you as it ever does. The pile is building. But you are not allowed to touch it. Because on this day, you have an order to leave the work alone.

On this day, your work is to obey that order and not become frantic about what isn’t getting done. On this day, your work is to rest completely with tasks left unfinished, and it’s harder work than you think.

Can you think of a few people who would develop an eye twitch just attempting it? If you know me, my name might be on your list.

When I ask the question “What does God want from you?” What answers bubble to the surface?

[The people] replied, ‘We want to perform God’s works, too. What should we do?’

Jesus told them, ‘This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one He has sent.’

–John 6:28-29

This is the only work God wants from you…

This is a permanent law for you…

It confounds me how rarely my priorities match His. I organize and plan ahead and work late and wipe the sweat from my forehead and say, “Look! Look what I have done! Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?”

But this is the God who put a day off into permanent LAW and fought His people on it for centuries because they were afraid to stop working.

God is not the slave-driver here. Fear is. And Rest is the opposite of Fear.

He has told me what He wants.

He wants me to not worry. He tells me not to be afraid. He calls me to see and believe in what HE has done. He wants me to live in a way that shows I believe it is enough; that I do not have to add something. He asks me to rest.

And true rest takes courage.

In the same way, the people of Leviticus could not please God by working hard, but by relying on the man he had put in place to mediate for them. It was not better to storm the Tabernacle because “These are my sins and I have to make things right myself!” It was better to rest completely.

Rest is the evidence of the work God wants from me – the work of believing what He says, of NOT trying to fix what He has taken care of.

As an Israelite, I think I would have struggled. I know in my marriage I have to fight the urge to fix and “make up for” what has already been forgiven. Complete rest feels wrong, but it only feels wrong when I still believe there’s something left for me to do.

Rest feels wrong when I see myself as the solution, when I argue that what has been done is not enough. I can only venture into rest when I choose to take Him at His word  rather than seeing to the matter myself. And that grows harder the more something matters.

True rest is hard work. It is not for the faint of heart. But our God handles expertly what we entrust to Him, and He is good to those who will take Him at His word and rest.

…Then you will know that I am the Lord;
    those who hope in me will not be disappointed.

–Isaiah 49:23

The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the soul who seeks Him.
It is good that one should hope and wait quietly
For the salvation of the Lord.

–Lamentations 3:24-25
Lord-

Produce in me the rest that comes from confidence in your work. Help me to finally stop and lay aside my own work long enough to gaze at you and see what you have done.

The work you want from me?
Believe you.
Rest.

So, Lord, help my unbelief. Help my unrest.

“Let us therefore be diligent to enter that rest…”

–Hebrews 4:11

“Then Moses took the anointing oil and anointed the Tabernacle and everything in it, making them holy…then he poured some of the anointing oil on Aaron’s head, anointing him and making him holy for his work.”

–Leviticus 8:10-12

Moses walked through the Sanctuary spilling out oil to signify that each place, each item was set apart to God: special and holy and marked for His use and His purposes. He offered each carefully crafted article to God’s service and worship and thus they transformed from common to holy.

Oil slid over the surface of the altar, the tools, the washbasin, the washbasin stand, and finally, it trickled down the face, neck, and chest of a man.

Moses took the time to label with oil all that was sacred, and he included Aaron.

Every morning, as I wake up and decide to how to order my day, a battle takes place between my craving for self-sufficiency and the call to surrender.

God once asked ancient Israel to give to Him the “first fruits,” (AKA the very first and very best fruit of the harvest), as a way of recognizing that He had provided for them, and He would continue to meet their needs, even if they gave up the best of the harvest when they were tempted to keep it for themselves. In the same way, I have been challenged to lay down what “must” be done and submit my “first fruits,” the “first time” of my day to His agenda, instead of my own. And His agenda holds a lot more “wait” and “be still” than mine does.

I can launch into my day, chasing after the desire to get things done! I can try to force my day into submission and spend the entire twenty-four hours trailing behind and lugging a hefty list of all I am trying to squeeze in. I can scurry along frantic under the massive weight of how to manage and control and plan for all of my responsibilities.

Or, like Moses in the tabernacle, I can pause and mark my time, my day, my resources, and myself as belonging to God and set apart for His purposes. I can surrender it to Him and find myself breathing easy, ahead of my day, taking it as it comes and trusting that someone way smarter than me is running this thing and I’m going to end up where I need to be.

This does not come naturally for me. Hurry is my theme song and stress is my default. I don’t ever wake up NOT needing re-orientation.

This first stopping, right at the start, even while urgent tasks fight for my attention, this Sabbath in my morning, acknowledges that this is the day that the Lord has made, and it is holy. It helps me to shift into step with His plan instead of straining after mine. It reminds me that I am HIS workmanship, created for good things, and good things are in store, even if I can’t guess or plan for what they are.

And my soul feels sorely the restlessness when the pause is missing.

I can choose to skip meals because I just don’t have time, or I can choose to MAKE THE TIME for a lunch break, because I NEED TO EAT. I can choose to skip the pause because I just don’t have time, or I can choose to MAKE TIME for the quiet, because MY SOUL NEEDS HIM. Anxiety, disillusionment, overload, and burnout are the predictable hunger pangs of the soul that let me know I have gone too long without pause. It is not a side-ritual to squeeze into my spare time, it is a daily rhythm, and I must decide to protect its place. I must pause to pour the oil.

Lord-

Like smooth oil slowly claiming every inch of the High Priest, may this time before you, this first pause of the day be my way of allowing you to re-claim my heart.

I am yours.

I am set apart for your purposes.

I am specially made for your worship.

And this is not my day. It is yours.

This is not my time, my money, my energy, my gifting. I am not cast by myself into the world to come up with where I will go and what I will be on my own. I have a Good Shepherd.

I belong to you. I am holy unto you.

And this morning, I see it.

Help me, Lord, to rest in your leading, and not to take off on my own as I try to manage this day. Help me to stop, even as I’m just beginning, to think on you and let your truth trickle over my face, my neck, my chest, transforming me again, renewing how I think.

Every single morning, I need the re-orientation. The permission to pause in the silence. The slow, cool, sensation of oil spilling over the sacred.

“And so, dear brothers and sisters, 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—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him. Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.”

–Romans 12:1-2

“Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu…disobeyed the Lord by burning the wrong kind of fire, different than He had commanded…and they died before the Lord…And Aaron was silent.

Moses then asked them what had happened…“Why didn’t you eat…? He demanded.

…Then Aaron answered Moses, “…If I had eaten the people’s sin offering on such a tragic day as this, would the Lord have been pleased?” And when Moses heard this, he was satisfied.

–Leviticus 10, excerpts

Aaron didn’t eat that day. He was silent at the death of his sons. He didn’t tear his clothes or run away. He and his other sons completed the offerings and carried on. But when Moses challenged him for not eating, Aaron spoke.

The sacrifices are done. The instructions have been obeyed. But on a day like this, would it REALLY please the Lord for me to eat as if nothing has happened??

And Moses was satisfied.

God wanted Aaron’s obedience, regardless, but it does not please Him to pretend. It is the same with me. God wants my obedience, but He does not want my lies. And I am treading water between the two, finally sorting out what in my life has been an act; trying to be honest with Him, with myself.

There is a real tension to work through: God asks that I submit to His instructions, even as he invites me to pour out my heart to Him.  He teaches me to be holy. He asks me to tell it like it is when my heart is full of unholy. He asks that I obey, but He does not ask me to pretend.

I can claim the dignity of real reactions to the hard stuff, the irritations, the discouraging, but I cannot ignore His claim on me. I am not supposed to ignore my feelings, but I am not supposed to run wild after them either. And this tension is front and center in my interactions with other people.

So here I am, caught between:

“…Let everything you say be good and helpful so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.”   –Ephesians 4:29

and

“Obviously, I am not trying to win the approval of people…”    –Galatians 1:10

Don’t try to get people’s approval, but do use EVERYTHING you say to encourage them. Don’t let them rule you, but DO choose to serve them. The line is almost invisible, and I am the pendulum between.

Here is my litmus test: Who is it I look to when I ask “did that go okay?”

Is it Him, or is it someone else?

Paul finishes Galatians 1:10 with: “I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant.”

Lord,

Where people-pleasing inhabits my way of life, there’s an issue. Those ways are an act, where I push down what I really think and try to meet all the heavy expectations out there. Those ways prevent and distract me from being fully your servant. Those ways must die.

But, Lord, I must look to you to bring life through the disrupted soil I leave in place of those ways when uproot them. People-pleasing is a thornbush, but it is still prettier than what is left when I rip it out. And I sit, exhausted from the effort of pulling and pulling at this area. I stare at the fractured ground and think

Oh no, oh no, what have I done! What if I needed that? What if some part of that kept me in check and made me a better person?? What will I become now?

That’s how I feel: gritty, abrasive, unkind, uncaring, dry, cracked, where once there stood a prize-winning rose. But I am not the domesticated, predictable and perfectly-shaped blossom bred by man to look “just so” on a Homes & Gardens magazine cover. I am the rich and stunning life of cascading wildflowers sweeping over grassy hillsides and tousled in the wind. I have always preferred the gardening of God. So the roses must die.

Help me, Lord, to be patient with your process in my own life, as I wait, teeth clenched, pacing nervously, scanning for something to break through the surface in the space I have held for it.

Grow your sincere kindness in me, Lord, to replace the pretending. Help me to end this show where I do what’s expected of me with a painted-on smile and a restless heart. Teach me to give you room to garden as you see fit, to pull out whatever you choose, no matter how carefully I have tended it, and to water even the seemingly empty ground, as ugly and undeserving as it seems.

I cannot grow what I want to see in my life, but it flows from you without pretending. So help me to stay and to water and to watch what will break through. Your beautiful life is forming here.

So displace my pretending

and help me wait

for grace and truth to grow.