Have you ever unexpectedly stepped into something new... some clean and pulsatingly alive?
How did you stumble onto holy ground without even a whisper?
And now that you are here... how do you NOT take off your shoes, halt your long journey for awhile, and crumble in the presence of Life itself?
Everything stands still and Rita Springer sings into the silence...
Your mercy goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on... You just go on and on and on and on and on and on and on... You are good! Oh my God, you are GOOD!
You can only tremble. Shake. Fall back into unseen arms of grace.
Battles are won in small victories... and it seems that God has had enough of the enemy that plagues me.
It seems that he has heard me and is rising to my defense.
For months, years really, I have been crying out for a Deliverer.
I've seen him on the fringes of the battlefield, sword arcing through the air.
But these days he is close enough for me to feel his breath. He is standing over me fighting FOR me.
And the timing couldn't be better.
Because I am WEAK.
Small spiritual victories.... but the battle WILL be won.
Jesus. You are good. You are good. And you go on and on and on and on and on and on and on...
I faced something today.
I stood in the direct blast of something painful, hateful, and full of sorrow.
I stood and I reclaimed something.
In a conversation with someone who has been hurting me for a long time I finally said what I've been wanting to say, but haven't been able to put to words.
I was suddenly so aware of how crafty the enemy is. I am constantly battling my own self loathing, and here it was again - that evil lie creeping up and threatening my fragile sense of balance.
This person is more important to me than I could ever express... and he is always making me feel like I am unacceptable - like if we weren't related he would have nothing to do with me - like he would never CHOOSE to have me in his life. (Small disclaimer: I'm not talking about my husband this time)
I know that it's not a matter of whether or not he loves me. Somehow he DOES... he just doesn't always seem to LIKE me. I keep waiting for him to make things right - to make me feel acceptable again - to reaffirm my worth.
But today I had this sudden "aha" moment and found myself drawing a line in the sand of my own soul.
I am worth choosing. And I'm not going to keep waiting for him to tell me that i AM worth it.
I have enough self loathing for the both of us. Either he chooses me or not, but whether or not he does... I am worth the choice.
I'm telling you, something profound shifted for me.
Maybe because it's been going on so long - sinking in like little needles, injecting their poison and leaving me weak.
Maybe because I have grieved the loss of what was so deep and sweet.
Maybe because he has exposed my failures as a human being and left me feeling shamed and small.
But my God wastes nothing.
And whatever it was that has wounded me for so long....
Doesn't seem so looming anymore.
Because I saw worth in myself for the first time in a long time. I saw Jesus settled on the throne of my heart, radiating. I felt the Spirit of God pulsating like adrenaline - "you ARE worth the choice."
I said it out loud...
And a shaft of light pierced the dark cloud over me...
A small moment maybe...
But joy is certainly pushing against the darkness.
I've been thinking a lot about the story of Hannah. I just keep thinking about what it would be like to be her.
I went back to re-read 1 Samuel and realized that Hannah was Elkanah's first wife. The other woman - the one who had many children while Hannah had none - was his second wife.
Which meant that Hannah was meant to produce an heir.
At some point it was just Elkanah and Hannah. Just the two of them in love. It says that Elkanah loved Hannah. She was the woman he had every intention of growing old with.
I picture the shame that Hannah must have felt as years passed without ever becoming pregnant.
And the sorrow she must have felt when Elkanah took another wife to do what she could not do.
And the humiliation when that second wife became pregnant.
Hannah's position as wife was stripped from her. She was inadequate. She was not enough.
I can feel her distress as she cries out to God, "If only you would remove the thing that has made me inadequate! If only you would take away my shame by changing me - changing the condition of my body!"
Ah Hannah. Most women, most wives, have felt your sorrow.
If we are honest we will admit that we have been replaced by SOMETHING. We have been set aside and we have carried the shame of being not enough.
I remember a woman, who had served her husband faithfully and fully, saying to me once, "I was never anyone's favorite. My sisters were favored over me. And now, I'm still nobody's favorite. My husband loves golf more than me."
And, with a great exhale, we all say... "I know how you feel..."
I have lived in Hannah's hell. I have spent my energy on trying to be different. I have allowed the taunting voice of my husband's distractions to define me and break me. But I have also cried out to God.
I have come in deep distress to the throne of the Living God.
And I'm not done yet.
Let me tell you - you are not your partners failures.
You are not a product of their distraction or of their divided heart.
Whether or not you are their favorite...
You are worth it. You ARE enough.
Because God has not formed a single human being who was worth nothing - who was only destined for sorrow and rejection.
Everything hinges on the love of God.
Even a distraught woman's soulful scream.
Maybe, in some ways, we're all Hannah at some point...
Solitude can go one of two ways.
Solitude can be holy (even painfully holy). It can be a secluded inner space of stillness and reflection; a time of confession and deep, thorough change.
Solitude can also be selfish and poisonous. It can center on a desire to hide and be hidden; to shut God and others out and be given over to your sin.
I guess the first would be called Solitude....
The second would be called Bondage.
I've been stuck somewhere in between Solitude and Bondage.
Some days I am so aware of the solitude that consumes me; it is holy and I am filled with reverence.
But there have been dark days too. Days that I am hiding and giving in to the lies that keep brushing their sticky little fingers all over my heart.
Today I woke up dark.
I told Joe that I was going to stay home from church and be alone. I just wanted to escape... something. I don't even know what I'm running from really. But I do know that I really just felt too fat to be seen in public. And that is what was keeping me from church with my family.
As Joe and the kids were walking out the door the Spirit gripped me and I knew I had to break out of the darkness and just go with them. So, at the last minute I went to church.
Sure enough, God had something profound waiting for me.
This message was almost certainly spoken to me alone.
The story was about Hannah (1 Samuel). She was the 2nd wife of a man named Elkanah. Elkanah's other wife had lots of children and Hannah had none. But Elkanah loved Hannah and showed her favoritism. The first wife hated Hannah for this and used every opportunity to mock Hannah. She was a rejected woman who projected her hurt on the other woman in her husband's life.
Having a son wasn't just a satisfying thing for a woman in those days, it was security. When Hannah was old her son would provide for her - making sure she had a home and food to eat. He would be her security. It was also a social requirement. The more sons a woman had the more she contributed to the army, which made her a blessed woman.
Again, Hannah had no children. Not one.
When Elkanah took his family to Jerusalem to celebrate and give an offering to the Lord Hannah was so distraught she could not even eat. Her husband was clueless and couldn't understand why HE wasn't enough for Hannah. So she pulled herself together and went to the Temple to cry out to God.
Hannah was so passionate in her heart's cry that she wept and her lips moved although she made no sounds.
When Eli the Priest saw her he assumed she was drunk and admonished her for coming to the Temple while intoxicated. But Hannah explained that she was a woman in distress and was pouring out her heart to God.
Eli blessed her and said, "Go and peace and may the God of Israel give you what you have asked of him."
She went back to her husband, ate heartily and her face was radiant.
She wasn't magically pregnant. There was no promise of a baby. There was only the blessing of a Priest... only "I hope you get what you want."
But something changed for Hannah. She went away with a full appetite and a radiant face.
And she DID eventually have a baby. A son. A man who would become the same prophet to rule Israel before they demanded a King.
He would anoint a shepherd named David. He would hear God call his name when he was only a boy.
Her prayers were answered.
The speaker compared Hannah's social pressure to the pressure placed on women in our culture. Not a pressure of having babies, but of being outwardly perfect. He spoke to the insane amount of visual expectation placed on every woman in our nation. If a woman doesn't have sex appeal, she has nothing. The value of a woman is placed on her body and her face.
And there is the darkness. There is the hiding place I have been cowering in. Called to light in one almost skipped message.
He goes on to say that sometimes our desires can become our idols. The things we are crying out for can become the shifting sand we stand on.
But ...
On Christ the solid rock I stand... all other ground is sinking sand.
If we are rooted on the rock of Jesus we can cry out, processing our grief and desire before the throne of God. We can wrestle and strain before him. We can beg him to hear us and answer!
And all that shifting sand on every side will have no effect. We will not sink because we are not rooted on idols.
Here it is. My sinking sand is my husband.
I keep praying, hoping, expecting him to change. To turn and LOVE me. To respect me.
And this man is wrestling with God. He is always always always crying out. But sometimes he stands on shifting sand. And if I stand on him, I will sink too.
If he never changes there will always be dark days. There will always be times of immense sadness and rejection. I will live parts of my life in sorrow.
But if I stand on Jesus, I will never be consumed. I will always stay afloat.
Will it change how I see myself? Will I go away with a full appetite and a radiant face?
Oh Jesus, I hope so.
All I know is that, for today, Jesus has called me out of darkness. I've stepped a single foot into some brilliant light.
So, for today, I can exhale. Like Hannah, I am free to pour my anguished soul out. And like Hannah, God WILL hear me.
I went to Rob Bell's Drops Like Stars on Friday in Tempe. I've heard almost every sermon, I've read every book... but this was the first time I've seen him on one of his tours.
Very artistic. Which I guess is not for everyone, but i LOVED it. Loved it.
There were a few things that keep coming back to me...
1. The God Who Wastes Nothing.
The God Who Wastes Nothing...
Nothing.
Not a single failure is wasted.
Not a single fleshy moment is wasted.
Not one "wasted" day is wasted.
The God who wastes nothing.
It is almost impossible to grasp, since we act like we can run away from God. We make it out like there are those wasted years behind us that we will never get back.
They're just gone and we'd better hope we get it together this time. We'd better hope we don't waste another second on ANYTHING.
Ah. Joel had another idea...
"I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten-- the great locust and the young locust, the other locusts and the locust swarm - my great army that I sent among you. You will have plenty to eat, until you are full, and you will praise the name of the Lord your God, who has worked wonders for you; never again will my people be shamed. (Joel 2:25&26)
I will repay you for the years the locust have eaten.
I will make what was lost come alive again.
I will make what was taken from you return again.
I will make what was wronged right again.
And you will never be ashamed again.
The God Who Wastes Nothing.
2. I. Miss. Her.
He asked everyone who had ever been affected by cancer to stand up. More than half of the room came to their feet. He asked us to look around and identify what it felt like to see so many people affected by the same disaster standing with us. People called out answers like, "wow!", "there shouldn't be so many", "good to know I'm not alone".
But then he told us that, in one city, a man from the back said, loud enough for everyone to hear...
"I. Miss. Her."
Exhale.
Still. The God Who Wastes Nothing. The God who knows the deepest, distressed spaces of our existence and still chooses to birth light through our suffering.
It's hard to hold out hope for light to push out through the constant sorrow of a selfish world.
It's hard to feel anything but despair sometimes.
But God... if you waste nothing....
Then help me to endure everything.
I've been taking my kids to the park every afternoon, after naps. It's been LOVELY.
Our neighborhood park is just around the corner. Aravis rides her bike, helmet firmly in place. Judah catches a ride in the stroller, giant dump truck on his lap. We travel the same way every day, each of us excited for the beautiful fresh air and super fun playground.
Yesterday Aravis and Judah were playing with a 5 year old boy and his little sister. We've seen them before and Aravis was SO excited to play with her "friend" again.
Things were going along fine... Aravis had invented a pirate game and had every kid on the playground playing with her... when her "friend" ran up to Judah and tried to rip his car from his hands.
I watched the injustice, waiting to see if the boy's mother would intervene... since she was watching the whole thing.
She said nothing and I moved to put an end to the bullying of my two year old...
And then something amazing happened.
Judah dug his sturdy little tree trunks into the sand, bolstered his arms against his thick little chest and clung to that beloved car. He set his jaw and refused to be bullied.
My kid stood his ground.
And he won.
The big boy looked surprised and wrestled even harder.
And THEN I told that kid to back off and leave Judah alone.
I was defensive for my son.
But I was PROUD.
I am well aware that Judah has a will of steel. I encounter it every day.
But I've never seen him so determined against a stranger.
Ah, to be like Judah. To plant my feet in the sand and wrestle against my enemy. To set my jaw and refuse to be wronged. To stand my ground.
Judah is the epitome of Ephesians six...
"When all else fails, stand..."
He's not quick. He could never outrun the bully. Although he does throw a good punch...
But, somehow, my little man knew that the best way to keep possession of what was his was to stand firm. Cling to what is good. Don't cower or let go because the enemy is bigger than you.
I'm learning from my babies every day.
Thank you Judah. Yesterday you were a giant in a land of bullies.
I've added a new practice to my Holy Yoga practice.
It's the practice of acceptance.
Due to the twisting, folding, lifting, and compressing nature of yoga I am almost ALWAYS looking straight at the things about my body that i despise.
It's actually pretty horrible.
Especially when it's a particularly "sick" day for me.
So, I've started pushing against the flow of my own nature.
Instead of rejecting these offensive body parts and making a plan of how to obliterate them, I'm speaking acceptance to them.
For example: when I look at my stomach I tell myself, "This belly has housed children. It has been a space of nourishment and life. And my kids were built strong and holy inside of this belly. It is sacred - used by God himself to create new life."
And I love my children. How could I NOT love what carried them, what protected them?
Let me be even MORE honest...
It's not really working yet.
It DOES keep my self hatred at bay. But do I feel joy when I look straight at the parts of my body that haunt and shame me? Not yet.
Will I?
I hope so. It is my true and full desire to be at peace within myself.
I offer those distorted self images to Jesus every single day.
I battle them more often than not.
I rejoice in "skinny" days and would be lost without my push up bra.
But this IS my body. This is how God has formed me.
I am healthy. I am strong. I am intentional about how I live.
And my daily offering must always be ME.
So, in Holy Yoga and in life, I am practicing acceptance.
Maybe if I can learn to accept myself as the CREATION, then I can learn to accept the CREATOR. Can I trust that he didn't make a mistake? He didn't slip up when piecing me together.
Although Paul meant something completely different, I am living his words today....
By the grace of God, I am what I am. He grace did not pass by me.
