humility

This, Too: hidden places and sacred ground

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—

“Oh, the depth of the riches
and the wisdom and the knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments
and untraceable his ways!
For who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?
And who has ever given to God,
that he should be repaid?
For from him and through him
and to him are all things.
To him be the glory forever. Amen.“

–Romans 11:33-36

Journal Entry – September 16, 2024

Lord,

You have restored so much to our family.

And today…I am scared and confused. Cody’s headaches persist, and this week he started waking up with numbness and spasms in his arms. Why, every time we could think about moving forward and hoping again, does a new problem come up? We have answered prayers – you gave the doctor an idea of what might help! And we have new issues in the same week.

I am straining with the hope, because it is heavy to carry both possibilities. To beg you for help and to brace for the chances that on the other side of this new treatment, we’ll still be searching.

If you want us to move forward, you have to fight for us, Lord. We can’t fix this! But you can. And I believe you are ready to help. Friendly to us. Working even now for what’s best.

I’m pleading with you to heal Cody. Restore him so that he can fly again. Or give us a clear sign that you have something different for us and give us the grace and the courage to go after it.

In her book, Pilgrim, Ruth Chou Simons wrote this:

“God is going to do big things in your life,” we often hear. No doubt well meaning, but is it true? Is it big when God allows a believer to wrestle with debilitating chronic illness? Is it big when a godly servant spends his or her life serving in a small one-room church in a rural town? Is it big when a mother turns down a corner-office promotion to teach her children full time from home?…Even small acts of obedience that go unnoticed can be big displays of God’s glory. You see, God is doing big things when redeemed lives, no longer living for themselves, bring Him glory.

…It’s as we do everything with deliberate intent to honor and exalt Him that we become active participants in bringing Him glory.” (pages 239-240)

Dishes. Diapers. Breaking up fights. Disciplining kids. Teaching. Tidying. Tending to tantrums.

Phone calls. Paperwork. Projects. Appointments. Errands. Cooking. Conflicts. Fighting off burnout. Handling people.

Here is the direction and purpose for all of it:

This, too, for your glory, Lord.

It all matters to Him. And not one limitation or obstacle can rob the tasks at hand from the potential to be carried out with great care and intention. From the grounding, true perspective that this IS a big thing because I am carrying it out for someone really important. Because I’m equipped for it by someone of great power. Because He is doing a big work even – and, maybe, most often – in the small, hidden places of yielded hearts that bow and worship Him in this thing, too.

So often, I am reaching for a set of circumstances – a place, a ministry, a need, a team – that represents where I believe I belong. And I’m so frustrated at a situation that is GETTING IN THE WAY.

But THIS is the situation that God entrusted to me for his glory. These things I’m facing right now are his leading, his work, his preparation, his stage, and his intention for me. I don’t have to get there. I’m already here. Right smack in the center of what He is doing in my life.

This part of it is not just something to get through. Not for me and not for you. This part matters. It matters immensely. It has been set up with great care and God intends to show Himself in it. In us, and through us, and to us. So even if it’s massively uncomfortable, I’m asking for the peace to not rush it.

This new thing we’re dealing with in Cody, it scares me to death and confuses me. But I am fighting to press in and decide that I am here for it. To keep getting before the Lord and asking Him to use even us, to use even this, to glorify Himself.

I’m asking Him to humble our hearts until we long for no glory of our own, but with every step we are chasing after His. I’m asking Him to help me set my eyes on things above, knowing that I am moving ever closer to my treasure – caught up in it and doing every small thing with intention drawn from it. (Colossians 3:1-4).

I have no idea what’s next. We’ll obey Him and trust Him when we reach it.

But I know what’s now. And now is for Him, to make much of Him. To not be dismayed, thrown or taken in by the jump scares. He’s got this. He’s got us. He is working out something so good that I couldn’t wrap my mind around it if I tried.

Me. You. Surrendered to Him and transformed by Him. That is the big plan. That is the course. And He is carrying it out. It’s not in danger of not coming to fruition. We will not miss what He is doing.

“Dear friends, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him because we will see Him as He is.”

–1 John 3:2

For those of us who’ve trusted in Christ, the destination of knowing Him, growing in Him, and being shaped into his likeness, is a sure and certain path charted from before the foundation of the Earth. The pressure is off.

We don’t have to reach some place. This path is about where we are headed, and who we are becoming like. It may take some turns that don’t make sense if I am the reference point. Because it’s not about me and I’m not the one that brings it all together.

It’s about Him. He’s the point. He’s leading the way. And He is going to get us there.

Lately, this verse has been a solid handhold for me on this rock wall where I’m often struggling to find my grip:

“For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever.”

–Romans 11:36

From Him:

Maybe it’s more difficult than you or I ever imagined, but the situation we’re in is from Him. It’s hand-crafted and put together on purpose by a mind we could not possibly fathom, a power so dominant we could never grasp it, and a heart that is entirely for us. If He’s allowed it, He’ll redeem it. When we cry, “how could this ever be okay again?,” it is not the end of the story. This, too, fits into a big plan that’s going to come together in a way that blows us away, no matter how hopeless it looks right now. (Romans 8:18)

Through Him:

You and I have been perfectly equipped to face every single step of this, through Him. So when our stamina fails, may we not lose heart, but throw ourselves onto His perfect, unfailing strength and yield to His power at work in us. Wrenching our eyes, if need be, from the discouragement and weariness we feel and sitting at the feet of the One who promises to fill us, shepherd us, strengthen us, and restore us. Being rooted and built up in Him and believing Him for all we’re worth. (Colossians 2:3-10)

To Him:

Every single bit of it, small or big, terrifying or mundane, a pain or a joy, it can be offered to Him, for his glory. You and I can walk through any hardship with the attitude of “This, too. For you, Lord.” And it transforms a humble, painful path we might frown at with disdain into sacred ground we can walk with honor. We can endure and be uncomfortable and be broken and we can offer it all up to the One who is worthy.

For you have been granted [the privilege] for Christ’s sake, not only to believe and confidently trust in Him, but also to suffer for His sake,

–Philippians 1:29

So I’m asking the Lord to do this work in my heart. That whether there’s some relief up ahead or another steep hill I don’t feel like I have the strength for, He’ll teach me to pause. When my legs are burning, my hands ball up in frustrated fists, and my heart wants to wail “Haven’t I been through enough??”

I’m asking Him to help me see. To help me consider Him lest I grow weary and discouraged in my soul. I’m asking for the grace to look at how He emptied himself and to humble my own heart again and again. I’m asking for the strength on this day to step forward one more time and breathe,

“This too, for your glory.”

Never Enough: bold desires and broken cisterns

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“Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established.”

–Proverbs 16:3

—

It was time to push the button.

Years of crafting, editing, tweaking, molding this message that had become so anchoring and life-giving to my own heart in my own hardships, and now it was about to be a book. Surreal.

It’s hard to describe the combination of excitement and ache I felt in that moment. Thrill at the idea of this blessing people, of people loving it and enjoying it and sitting at the feet of their Savior because of it. Dread because I didn’t know what to expect. This is self-publishing after all. Would people only buy it because they wanted to be a help to me, or would it hold its own value? I had poured my heart out across these pages. Would there be crickets?

I breathed a prayer and clicked “Publish.” Then I cracked open my Bible and stared at this verse. “Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established.” (Proverbs 16:9)

I looked up “works.” It came from the Hebrew maaseh – activity, labor, practice, vocation, workmanship, actions, achievements, accomplishments, art. Perfect! Labor, workmanship, art – what a cool fleshing out of that word – it sounds a lot like my book, a book I’m committing to the Lord!

I looked up “plans.” It came from the Hebrew machashabah – thoughts, designs, intentions, plans, purposes, plots, schemes. Yes. This resonates with me too! I have purposes, designs and intentions for what I want this book to accomplish that matter a LOT to me!

I looked up “established.” It came from the Hebrew kun – firm, set in order, reliable, carried, appointed, confirmed, made sure, maintained in position. So good. Only the Lord can carry and maintain in position the work I’ve entrusted to Him. I do not have the power to establish it.

Then, for fun, I looked up “commit,” not thinking I would learn a whole lot, because, how much is there really to the verb “commit?” It just means to trust, right?

It had a few translations, but one definition: “to roll away.”

That gave me pause. The establishing of those deep desires for the work that is so precious to me? It depends on rolling it away, into the hands of the One who can make it firm.

That’s not the same as gesturing to a corner of it and asking Him to team-lift with me. This is not sharing the load. This is rolling it completely onto His shoulders, and leaving mine free to take up His yoke. I give Him my work and take up His rest. I labor and craft and pour my heart into something. And then I surrender it – for Him to do whatever He pleases with it.

Why is that tricky? Because it’s a lot of heart work to balance sharing boldly out of your gifting and remembering that if the Lord uses it, it’s not about you.

“The lust to be noticed and appreciated will never be satisfied. It has to be crucified.”

-Gary Thomas, Cherish

Some of my desire is to build up other believers:

“Even so you, since you are zealous for spiritual gifts, let it be for the edification of the church that you seek to excel.” (1 Corinthians 14:12)

Some of my desire is to glorify God:

“He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

Those are desires I think the Lord delights to establish.

But some of my desire is to receive enough affirmation to combat some deep-seated beliefs I battle: that I am burdensome, not keeping up, and not wanted. And no matter how many beautiful reviews or encouraging comments I receive, they will never be enough. The Lord has given me enough proof in HIS word that those thoughts are not true; He will not establish my desire to supplement it with man’s words.

“The fear of man is a dangerous trap but trusting the Lord means safety” (Proverbs 29:25). Placing my trust back in Him and His word, day in and day out, as often as I feel insecure, is a lot of work. I am often tempted to seek out and settle for the approval of man. And it would not be loving for God to provide fuel for the fire at the altar of that idol.

In His love, He may give me some encouraging glimpses that He’s using my work, that He’s established it. But He will not establish my desire to find security in broken cisterns. They can produce no steadiness in my life.

I glanced at the cover of my book and chuckled at my own mixed-up heart. “One thing is needed, Beka.” And my Savior’s desire for me is that I find it, again and again and again, and let my roots grow down deep into it. That I would be empowered with inner strength, rather than chase and grasp after external reassurance. That I would experience His love and take on His humility so that I am not thrown by being overlooked. That I would receive from Him a steadiness that is not littered or poisoned by fear that I am not loved enough or will not have enough.

“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.” (Ephesians 3:16-19)

I opened up my journal and wrote this:

Lord…please take this book – my art and labor and design – and spread it far and wide and move people to sit at your feet, to listen to you, to fix their eyes on you, to trust you, to find healing in you, to take courage from you. Use my book to deepen people’s relationship with you. I do not have the connections to get this resource as far as I want it to go. But I’ve written my story and my challenge to believe you faithful into it. So Lord, give it wings. Take it further and use it more powerfully than I could ever imagine. Break it and bless it and feed 5000. Here is my jug of water. Only you can make it wine.

But You must increase. I must decrease. Give me the heart to see I have nothing and did nothing that was not given to me. You are faithful to me with your unfailing love, so help me to endure the quiet when there is a void of feedback. Teach me to crucify the lust to be noticed and appreciated. Make my soul’s desire pure to see you increase. You alone.

A few weeks later, upon reading one of the kindest reviews ever, I was thrown. I just did not know how to answer. You’ll laugh at me, but I’m telling the truth: I googled “humble Christian author responses to compliments.” And I came across an article that said this:

“Humility is not a response. It’s a heart attitude.” – Jonathan Malm

Ouch. You can’t google your way to a right response here, Beka. You need your Savior to transform your attitude. And you’ll keep needing Him. And He’ll keep being all you need.

Oh Lord,

A humble heart doesn’t stress about how to respond humbly. It just does, flowing from a humble source – not itself – but YOU. Meek and lowly. The One who calls prideful, weary hearts like mine to come and rest.

Humble my heart, Lord, and give me your rest, please. Master, do as you will with my life, provide what you will. I commit my book, my work, my voice, and my life to you.

Establish it.

Walk Forward: sleep-deprived confessions and delighting in Jesus

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“No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on…”

–Philippians 3:13-14

—


I have always loved sleep. My husband’s relationship with sleep is difficult. He is a light sleeper and often struggles to fall asleep at night. But not me. Sleep and I have a good relationship. I sleep deeply – often within a minute or two of my head hitting the pillow. Sleep is my superpower…unless I have a new baby. 

I have found very few things as stressful as the sleep deprival I went through after the birth of both our boys. There are few things I have begged for with more passion than that the Lord would help my baby to sleep. I have been super invested in sleep training, in sleep diapers, in rice cereal, in nap schedules. And when I have done everything in my power and the baby wakes up anyway because he has an ear infection or he’s teething or he has some other mystery reason I’ll never get to the bottom of, it. is. maddening.

This month, I felt the Lord gently prodding me to dig into why I was SO determined to get the good night’s sleep that seemed ever out of reach. Beneath the determination, there was fear. And so the real question surfaced: Why does being really tired scare me so badly?

Well…it’s because I hate failure. I am wired to plan, to prepare, and to arrange my life with intention. It soothes me to have anticipated a need and adjusted for it ahead of time; to have a contingency plan mapped out and everybody on the same page for what’s next. Good sleep, I realized, is one of the ways I set myself up to avoid failure. When I’m rested, I can take a lot in stride. When I’m exhausted, my anger is so much harder to control. I get irritable, forgetful, and emotional. My threshold for overwhelm drops significantly, and I tend to react, especially in my closest relationships. Poor sleep is a great humbler; it exposes my need for mercy. 

So good sleep had become, to me, the holy grail that would make it possible to get through my day without damaging my relationships, without failure, without regret. For as hard as I tried, as much as I begged the Lord to help me walk with the Spirit, I had not found a way to just nail it after a night of poor sleep. A screw-up was inevitable. And so I grew more desperate. If only the baby would sleep! 

But any time I hear myself say the words “If only…,” I know discontentment is at work in my heart. And whatever I’m wishing I had isn’t actually the solution.

“…be satisfied with what you have. For God has said,

“I will never fail you.
    I will never abandon you.”

So we can say with confidence,

“The Lord is my helper,
    so I will have no fear.
    What can mere people do to me?”


–Hebrews 13:5-6

Be satisfied with what I have. Right now. Even with the amount of sleep I’ve been given. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough. So instead of trying SO hard to get sleep so that I won’t fail and lose my temper when I’m tired and irritable, I started praying that I would grow in how I recover from failure. 

My main goal cannot be to perfectly set myself up so that I never make a mistake. That is just not real life. But maturity gets good at moving forward from mistakes; that is a good goal. As I prayed for this growth with one of my friends, she prayed for me, and she thanked God for his mercy when we fail. 

It occurred to me that we recover well by shifting our focus from our failure to His great mercy. From our badness to His goodness. From our disappointment to excitement about the total covering we’ve been given in His perfect forgiveness. The blood of Christ is a completed shelter, and it has no leaks. 

“…But as it is, He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

…For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

…Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.”

–Hebrews 9:26, 10:14, 22

We can confess our sin and at the same time lead our kids and our own hearts to delight in Him because He has made us free. And this, more than a mom who never shows frustration, may be just what their little hearts need, because I’m not the only one who needs to learn how to recover after losing my temper.

Lord, 

I am so thankful that you forgive me each and every time that I fail. Thank you for setting your love on me and for giving your life to pay completely for my sin. Teach me the art of acknowledging my disobedience while I rejoice in your perfect obedience. Let the weight of my focus not be these brief and passing faceplants on my part, but your goodness, your mercy for me, your unfailing love and preference for me, the perfection of your plan that anchors me securely to the end of the race, to your lasting victory, to your once-for-all sacrifice, to the day when I have overcome it all and I am completely like you. 

May my sin ever point me to my Savior so that I do not wither in discouragement, but I overflow with

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Jesus!

You did what I could not. You died in my place. You’ve anchored me to your new life. You’ve already forgiven me completely. Beautiful, understanding Savior. Thank you for looking on me with love and giving me your strength and your mercy to walk forward.”

Let Me Teach You: Called to more than grand gestures

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“Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

–Matthew 11:29 

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This has been a humbling year. I came back from the mission field. I stayed in the ICU. I cancelled our plans and cared for a sick baby. Slowly, I’m laying down my version of God’s calling on my life for His. 

Cody has shifted into his role with grace and purpose. He’s meeting a clear need and they’re so thankful to have him. But my life is full of cycles. Unending dishes, diapers, bottles, interruptions, laundry, potty training, soothing fussy kids at night, grocery runs, sweaty walks, and going over letters and memory verses with a distracted pre-schooler who’d rather be playing in the mud. It’s not as easy for me to wade through the work and see what we’re accomplishing. I thought I’d be flying to the rescue and making an impact on the unreached peoples of the world. Those are good desires, but man, has it been brutal to lay them down and figure out who I am without them.

Pride says “Why would you bring us home? I’m more valuable than this! I have trained so long and so hard and I could be making a difference!”

Humility says, “Jesus is the one that makes the difference. He can position me wherever He likes and give me any job He wants.”

I’ll give you one guess which one my heart tends toward. 

Humility doesn’t grasp for significance and recognition or strive to be important. But I do. Humility doesn’t try to impress other people. But I do. Humility knows that God’s calling is not just to the grand gestures, but to the every-day choice to die to self and love the people He’s put in front of you. But I don’t want to die to self in the ways I’m being asked to right now. I want to tackle big and important work, but Jesus was happy to let his big and important work be interrupted by little children. 

I read a story by Paul David Tripp about his early days as a young pastor. He was over it. He had figured out a new plan for ministry and given his resignation. But an older man stayed after the service and challenged him: “We know you’re discouraged and we know you’re a bit immature, but we haven’t asked you to leave. Where is the church going to get mature pastors if the immature ones leave?” 

We get mature pastors when immature ones stick with it. We get mature moms, mature missionaries, mature believers, when immature ones keep at it. So here I am. Recognizing, left and right, the indicators that my heart is proud and immature. But I hear my Savior saying “Let me teach you.”

Ephesians 4:1-2 says this:
 “…Lead a life worthy of your calling, for you have been called by God. Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.”

I desperately want to live a life worthy of my calling. I just didn’t realize how often that means “Be patient with each other. Be humble and gentle,” that it’s a calling not just to do certain things, but be a certain type of person. Hard work matters. But it matters more that my work flows out of a heart that is patient with other people. Big sacrifices matter. But it matters more that I make the sacrifices because of how worthy Jesus is, not because I am trying to be worthy. It’s good to want to teach people about Jesus, but I cannot forget how badly I need to be taught by Him.

He was equal with God, but He didn’t cling to that. He was the most significant human being on the face of the Earth, but He didn’t flaunt it. How I need Him to teach me to be humble and gentle. How I need Him to teach me to value people so much that I do not turn away from the mundane, inconvenient, and tedious work of loving them and caring for them day in and day out. 

Here’s the sweet spot. Pride is the source of so much wrestling and angst. But Jesus said, “Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

Not only is He ready to teach me, his teaching brings rest. 

Are you frustrated with where He has you? Are you weary and discouraged and reaching for something different and more fulfilling? Do you feel like what you really have to offer has been passed over? Are you trucking through your work, but growing impatient with your people?

Me too. Let’s go to our teacher. Let’s run to our rest. He can teach us to be like Him. He can quiet our hearts. He can remind us that we are here on purpose, and that every second is worthwhile. He can change us so that what we do flows out of who we are in Him, and it is full of life and grace. 

“Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.”
–John 15:4




Inap Yu Stretim Mi?: on rehearsing the right story

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Search me, Oh God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.”

–Psalm 139:23-24

—

Right now, Cody and I are working on learning Tok Pisin, the trade language of Papua New Guinea. Every afternoon, we say to our language helper:

“Bai mi stori. Bihain, inap yu stretim mi?”

It means: I’m going to tell you a story. Afterward, can you correct me?

We do our best with the vocabulary we’ve learned so far, and we explain how our morning went, or describe something exciting we’ve experienced in the past, or sometimes we tell him about our funny moments. He listens and nods, and once we’ve finished, he faithfully points out every single thing we did wrong.

We work on it together until we’ve straightened out (“stretim”) all of the errors. Then we record him telling the same story. After our lesson is over, we listen to his version over and over and over. We’ve learned the words, now we want to learn his way of saying them.

This morning, I realized that this process is a great picture of how the Lord wants us to approach Him. Who in their right mind tells a story and then invites someone to point out everything that’s wrong about it?

Someone who already knows they aren’t telling it perfectly. Someone who’s ready to learn.

What if I approached the Lord this way: Jesus, I’m going to tell you a story. Afterward, can you correct me?

What if I laid out for Him everything I was thinking and all the things I had experienced; then I invited Him to straighten it out? To correct me when I’m telling the story wrong? To adjust my thinking where it’s off?  To point out the issues that my own heart doesn’t see?

He is so much more than a merciful listener. He is my willing teacher. What if I humbled my heart enough to invite His critique? I think He’d be faithful to give it. What if I told my version of the story once, but then I took His words and I listened to them over and over and over, because I was desperate to get the right version into my brain?

Would my heart benefit most from rehearsing my version, or from studying His?

Lord, inap yu stretim mi?

“He guides the humble in what is right
    and teaches them his way.“

–Psalm 25:9

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom…”

–Colossians 3:16

Anchor Rope: untangling our hope from our plans for tomorrow

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“Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year….How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?…What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil.”

– James 4:13-16
 

I’ve been under a lot of pressure this week, and the symptoms of that pressure have been messy. I yelled across the house and threw a pillow on the floor. I thought angry thoughts and spoke in harsh tones.


We’ve had a super busy schedule, some changing plans, and a lot of moving pieces we’re trying to keep track of, but I think what threw me the most was an email mentioning that there might be a problem with our paperwork.

We’ve applied for our work permits so we can serve long-term in Papua New Guinea. As far as anyone knew, we had prepared perfectly, but the requirements are changing and getting stricter. We’re working on it, and we’re hopeful that they’ll still let us come, but it’s a wait-and-see situation. It’s an at-the-mercy-of-someone-else’s-decision situation.

I have found that I have a lot of emotions toward this development. In short, it makes me want to pull my hair out. I’m already aching under the pressure every day, because I know we can’t possibly make it all work. We can chase every detail we know of down and something unexpected can still come up. Even if we knew what all the factors were, we couldn’t control them all. We can’t even change ourselves to handle it better.

My stress reveals that I have let myself start thinking my plans are a certain thing. Again.

Oh, how I love to decide that I know what will happen next. It’s pretentious and evil. And it is so, so easy for me to slip into. I love to plan all the specifics as if I’m the one in control. But I’m not. And when I’ve been nurturing my love affair with the planner, I hesitate to depend on the One I need so badly. Just because he might be allowing one of my precious plans to be threatened, I allow that hesitation and fear to make me miserable. And I throw pillows at the floor because I’m so frustrated.

And then there’s Cody, out mowing the lawn like everything will be okay. Just doing the next thing and waiting. Because everything will be okay. Our hope was never in those details.

Oh girl. You’ve got to go get your hope back. Pull it back and pick it up and detach it, strand by strand, from all those pretentious specifics you’ve let it wrap around. Lay the tangled thing at the feet of your Savior and let him braid it into something sturdy: an anchor rope. So every single thread leads to him and his faithfulness.

Then you will not be thrown when things do not go like you expect or when a certain course of action is threatened.

Yes. That plan might not work. But everything will be okay. You’ll be okay. Your family will be okay. Our God knows exactly what you’ll need for the journey you didn’t know to plan for. He knows just how to navigate every turn in the road and he is faithful to use our lives to do the work he is planning, even and especially when it doesn’t line up with what we’re planning.

He’s a good leader. He won’t drag us at such a breakneck speed that we have no option but to drown or let go. He prepares the path and walks it first and lends the strength so that we are surely able to follow the whole way.

Oh Lord,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for trying to take this back and make it mine. I can’t make these plans turn out. I don’t know everything we’ll need for what’s ahead, or if we’ll even get cleared to take the next step. Can you help my heart release the process to you?

Will you help me trust you to get us there?

I want to do a really good job at this and I want to look good doing it. And that leads me to a place where I obsess and get so upset over the lists and the timing and the unknowns. I’m yearning to be perfect, impressive, on-the-ball, ahead of schedule, all-knowing, prepared for everything. But these goals are only throwing me off balance and adding unnecessary pressure.

Help me unhook my hope from prideful ambitions and pretentious specifics. That kind of obsession does not honor you or the people I’m serving. A humble heart holds all its plans up to you as ideas that could be improved upon and takes on the changes that come with great hope for what you are about to do.

“When you came down long ago, you did awesome deeds beyond our highest expectations. And oh, how the mountains quaked! For since the world began, no ear has heard and no eye has seen a God like you, who works for those who wait for him!”

–Isaiah 64:3-4

Let’s take it back to this simple, steadying truth:

There is no God like you.

I am not impressive. But you are. And its not up to me to make your plan work. I am not under all this pressure to see to every detail. I can simply look at, listen to, follow, obey, and be rescued by a God unlike any other.

Again and again, my whole life long, as often as I need you, you will be there. You will exceed my highest expectations, you will handle the things I didn’t see coming, and you will do incredible work as I wait on you.

Nothing surprises you. Nothing threatens your plans. So I will bring this problem before you and ask you to work on our behalf.

Lord, I believe you’ve led us here, to this point, and you are asking us to keep believing you, to keep watching, and to see how you will make a way for us. We trust you, so we can just go mow the lawn while we wait. Because our hope is tied to a sturdy, unchanging anchor, not to our idea of what tomorrow should look like.

“No human wisdom or understanding or plan can stand against the Lord. The horse is prepared for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the Lord.”

–Proverbs 21:30-31

Fulcrum: what’s the next step when we can’t get along?

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“This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you.  There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

–John 15:12-13

“I will gladly spend myself and all I have for you…Everything we do, dear friends, is to strengthen you.”

–2 Corinthians 12:15, 19

What does love look like? It lays down all it owns for the sake of the beloved.

This is what Christ did for me. He gave up position, wealth, recognition, respect, power, comfort, dignity, and then, after all of that, He gave up his life. For me.

As he prepared to face the cross, he left this instruction with his followers:  Love each other the same way. i.e. Lay down absolutely everything for each other if you have to.

I have a love-hate relationship with verses about this kind of love. It’s beautiful and it describes who I want to become, but these sentences often sting because my heart attitude is so unlike them.

Freely spend myself and all I have for you? No thank you. Even with everything I’ve been given, I count the cost, I weigh the risk, I hold my rights close.

I’ve read that among the many stresses of serving overseas, co-worker conflict can be the tipping point that sends a missionary home. It’s one of the top three reasons people leave the field earlier than anticipated. We’ve been warned over and over about it.  

Now, here we are. We’re preparing to join a new team and a new way of doing things. We’ll be working with them on a tight schedule, in close proximity, and under a lot of pressure. And I’ve been anxious that we may wrestle a little to find our rhythm with each other.

So, it’s been my prayer that God will prepare us to work through any misunderstandings or clashes that come up and that, in His grace, we will mesh well with each other and be a team that is a joy and encouragement to each other and to those we are there to serve.

I think, in answer to that prayer, He has been driving home with me how much a selfless, humble attitude does to smooth interactions with others and diffuse conflict. He has been calling my attention to his example: willing to take the lowest position, willing to cover great cost without being repaid, willing to forego recognition or attention.

Gently, he has been pointing out how little I resemble that example, with my son, in my marriage, and in my own family. If I am to follow it, not only in those intimate relationships, but in my every-day, rubbing shoulders relationships, there must be a shift.

In Philippians 2, Paul asks his readers to imitate Christ; and he calls their attention not just to a specific set of behaviors, but to an attitude that reveals itself in a pattern of choices.

The attitude is the fulcrum.

The behaviors build up to the reveal of that attitude:

“Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ had…He humbled himself…therefore God elevated him to the place of highest honor…”

–Philippians 2:3-5, 8-9

What were the “do not’s” in this passage? Selfishness. The need to impress. The relentless pursuit of my own interests. What do all those behaviors point to?

They reveal a fulcrum of PRIDE.

That’s why they are so unlike Christ. And so, Paul pleads with the believers in Philippi to humble themselves, because even the One deserving of all the glory chose an attitude of humility as his pattern. And God says this is what leads to the honor we’re all so hungry for in the first place.

We all have a fulcrum. Working closely with other people is often the context that makes what that fulcrum is so clear. If I am to love my team, I must prepare myself to lay down many things, and the first of those things is my pride.

Lord,

You will be working on this with me my whole life long. Humility is the divine crafting of your hands alone. I am not naturally driven to seek it or even able, in my fallenness, to produce authentic humility. But as I set my eyes on you, you are moving me closer to understanding two things:

  1. Humility is one of your most beautiful works.
  2. You are faithfully building it in my life.

Help me to lay down my craving for honor.

Help me to cling to the promise that you honor those who humble themselves, and it is more satisfying than any recognition this world could offer. Change my attitude, Lord, and the behavior will follow.

When my actions, my words, my pattern of choices show a drift, help me to recognize it: these are the products of pride. The next step is not to grow discouraged with the ugliness of it or fret over the trend I see. The next step is just to humble myself.

How do I follow the example of Christ in all I am called to decide and navigate? What is the next step when we can’t get along?

A humble attitude is a pretty reliable place to start.

Lay Out the Welcome Mat: on how to take pleasure in weakness

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“Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness…”

–2 Corinthians 12:9

Here it is. The great, paradoxical secret that unravels the way I think.

God faithfully uses the gifting he has given me. He asks me to be a good steward of my strengths.

But his power does not work best in my strengths. His power works BEST in my weakness.

Last month, I had the privilege of contributing as a guest writer for one of Man in the Mirror’s monthly newsletters. I mentioned it (okay, I announced it with celebration and a happy dance) to my dad, who simply said, “Good. I’d like to see what you write reach a larger audience.”

I explained that I’d like to be published here and there, but I would sort of prefer that my reach stay small because I love attention and I’m doomed to become self-absorbed and inauthentic if I ever become well-known.

My dad said this:

“I’d like more people to read what you write because it generally carries a theme of dependence. And that is so needed.”

His words humbled me. It’s not about the writer. It’s about the message. And this is a message worth calling to the attention of as many people as I can possibly summon, because our souls so easily forget:

I need Jesus. I need him desperately. I must depend on Him. For my salvation and for absolutely everything after that.

“Don’t be selfish. Don’t try to impress others…We rely on what Christ Jesus has done for us. We put no confidence in human effort.”

–Philippians 2:3 and 3:3

More and more, may this become my hallmark:

Dependence on the Impressive One. Awareness that without him, I have nothing to offer (John 15:5).  An ironclad grip on the truth that he deserves all the honor for anything good in my life (Romans 15:17-18), and that when I start to be impressed with myself, I have become enchanted with a sad lie; because I have absolutely nothing that I have not been given. (1 Corinthians 4:7)

May I learn to be at ease with my weaknesses and with my short supply of resources, stamina, and even the desire to produce what is good.

These are opportunities to invite him to step in, not set-ups for failure. My bad attitudes, short temper, and need for transformation are the canvas upon which he does his best work. And it. Is. Breath-taking.

May I refuse to hide my frailty. May I learn to humbly lay it out and take pleasure in it. It is the welcome mat for his grace to enter in. It is the holy place where my strengths bow out of the way and his power takes the stage. It is the starting place of every good story.

When I see my inadequacy and I decide to I call it what it is instead of hiding or posturing or striving to be enough, that is when his unimaginable endurance, creativity, hope, and light seep into the most desperate places.

Pray with me:

Lord,

You are the unfailing answer to my cry for help.

My inadequacy, my frailty, my weakness: these are your gifts to help a blind heart see how badly it needs you. They are ever more precious than the gifts I so often plead for.

Transform how I view weakness, hardships, insults. Paul learned how to lean into them and take pleasure in them. Teach me how this is possible for my heart, too, because my giving up place is your giving place.

So help me to lay out the welcome mat boldly.

“So now I am glad to boast in my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

–2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Worthy: on untying little sandals and who it is we’re serving

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“…I’m not even worthy to be his slave and untie the straps of his sandal.” – John 1:27

“I was hungry, and you fed me. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me….when you did it to one of the least of these…you were doing it to me!” – Matthew 25:35-36, 40

I’ve never looked at these two passages in tandem before, but I thought the parallel was thought-provoking: when you take care of people, you take care of Christ.

p.s. That’s an honor, because we’re not even worthy to tend to his sandals.

I’ve heard that marriage, parenting, and even the privilege of full-time ministry can be “a series of little deaths,” as we lay down our expectations and rights and desires for the sake of those we are called to serve. I think we only humble ourselves to the point of those little deaths when we remember that the One who asks us to do so led the way himself.

I have often found it helpful, whether I’m having difficulty with a stranger or family, to look past the person I am directly interacting with to the Savior who is teaching me how to treat them. When I see him, all my excuses about how it’s not fair and they don’t deserve it and I’m too tired fall away, because whatever it is he is asking of me, he is absolutely worthy of it. This person in front of me, I could easily find a reason to turn away from.

But how could I say no to the one who has given up everything for me?

Today, as I feed, clothe, and unfasten sandals, may I remember who I’m really doing it for, and that I am not even worthy to be his slave. 

Lord,

Make me a humble and willing servant, eager to give to and help those who are precious to you in any way I can. 

Authentic generosity and willingness to serve are two of the clearest displays that someone is becoming more like you – the only one who is worthy of all service and yet laid down his position and rights and very life to serve.