Spirit Rising

For the SPIRIT God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.

 --2 Timothy 1:7 (emphasis added)

Spirit.  The word evokes delight, fear, misunderstanding, and awe.  For Christians, the Spirit is one part of the Holy Trinity.  It's the part that gives us the wisdom and direction we need for daily living.  Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit when he rose from the dead and ascended Heaven.

During my daughter's hour long dance class on Wednesdays, I normally bring something to read, and I'm in the middle of this amazing book that's helping me understand how the Spirit moves in the world.  I have a different book with me every week, so it's not unusual for one of the other moms to ask me about what I'm reading.  But when this particular mom asked me about the book of the week, I felt my stomach do a little flip.

"It's Spirit Rising by Jim Cymbala.  I tried to act casual, but I knew she wasn't a Christian, so I wasn't sure what to say next.

"Oh", she said, "My dad believes in that stuff".

I hesitated.  I didn't feel very bold, and yet the words "Do you?" came out of my mouth.

She paused for a moment before answering, then shook her head.  "I don't know what I believe.  I don't believe in anything.  Or I guess I kind of believe in everything".

"God"? 

"Yes, but I think he has a lot of different names".

I probed further.  "Jesus?"
 
"No.  I used to be Jewish.  I like what Buddha teaches.  I like it that there's no Hell."

"Yes", I agreed.  "Who wouldn't like that?  I wish it were true."

She looked amused.

We ended up talking for an entire hour.  I mainly just listened.  Here was a woman--broken, hurt, and seeking.  She's probably a lot like me, but I have one thing she doesn't--the Spirit.  And that has made all the difference.

As she told me her sad story, my heart began to beat faster, and I felt it breaking for her.  I prayed, "Oh, God.  Don't let me screw this up.  Spirit, tell me what to do.  Tell me what to say."  I felt like I was holding onto this woman with my pinkie finger as she dangled from a cliff over the great abyss.  I knew there was nothing I could say that could convince her that Jesus is real.

"I'm open to anything, though", she blurted.

"Would you ever go to a church?," I asked.

"Oh, I've been to church.  Many times.  I would go again, but not yet.  I'm too messed up.  I've got too much anger.  I'm not ready".

I wanted to make her understand that only God could bind up those wounds and heal them forever, but I confessed that the only way for me to do that was to tell her about what God has done in my own life and what I've seen him do in the lives of the people I know.

"Don't worry.  I'm working on me.  Lots of people are working on me.  Counselors, psychologists...."  Her voice trailed off, but I was still thinking.

Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes, and I didn't want her to see me cry.  But oh, how I wanted her to understand how much God loves her!

She interrupted my thoughts again.  "I promise you this, though.  When I am ready, I'll definitely come to you."

Did she really say she was going to come to me when she is ready?  Not if, but when she's ready?

"Ok", I said.  "As long as you promise,  I'll wait for you."

We shook on it.

How wonderful it would have been if she had given her life over to Christ right there on the spot!  We could have prayed together like two happy souls boldly slamming shut the gates of Hell!  Yet, that is not what I heard the Spirit telling me to do. The Bible says the fruit of the Spirit is love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control, so I'm confident that I experienced the Spirit at work today.  I'm pretty sure the Spirit can't be rushed.

"I pinkie promise."  She intertwined her pinkie with mine, and I held it  there in the grips of another prayer.  "Oh, Lord.  Spare her.  Give her time.  Show her that you're real before it's too late.  Don't let her fall off of this cliff."

Mamas, Don't Let Your Baby Girls Grow up to be Princesses

Think about the qualities you hope to instill in your children--strength, integrity, love, resourcefulness, and creativity.  You want that for your boys...and your girls.

 I've been blessed with two darling young daughters.  One is only four and yet almost every single birthday party she's attended this year has been a princess party.  And in just four years, "Princess" has been her go-to costume for the October 31st trick-or-treating festivities.  Why is it that every little girl just wants to be a little princess?  Yet, if someone called my twelve-year-old "a little princess" the phrase would bring with it nothing but negative connotations?  Do we really want our daughters to grow up to be  egotistical, narcissistic, self absorbed divas waiting in captivity for a knight in shining armor to rescue them?  Have I sent my young sidekick the message that God made her for nothing more than her pretty face?  Should I encourage her to spend hours preening and primping when an estimated 25,000 children around the world die every single day because of sickness, starvation, and a lack of clean water?  Of course not.

We spend the first two years of our children's lives modeling behavior that indicates that the world exists solely for their benefit, then the next sixteen trying to convince them that "Just kidding, it doesn't."  Our girls deserve more.  We place a premium on beauty, reinforce greed, compliment the elaborate wardrobes and beautiful homes that belong to others, and twist the reality in which we live and for what?  So we can all pretend that our precious girls are fairytale princesses?

What if being a princess meant kindness?  What if it meant sharing with others?  What if being a princess stood for love above all else?  How could we teach our little princesses that inner beauty is the reigning quality of a true heir to the throne of grace?

Storybook princesses overcome tremendous hardship and face overwhelming danger before ultimately living happily ever after.  And although we want the fairytale ending, we often deny ourselves the gift of the sacrifices that shape us in the everyday living.

I'm not anti-princess.  If I'm being completely honest, statistics show that most American girls might has well be princesses for all the luxuries life in this country affords.  A closet full of clothes, a pantry full of snacks and many with a private bedroom and bathroom as well.  Why would they think they were anything but the progeny of the richest nation in the world?  As I sit here and write, though, I am wondering how that word defines this littlest generation of girls.  What an enormous responsibility we have to share what God has entrusted to us.  I'm still trying to figure out how to do that.  The next time Cari Jill dons a costume and twirls around the room, I hope I remember to encourage her confidence or her imaginative play instead of the way she looks in that dress.

Maybe one day when we hear the word, "princess" applied to someone we know, instead of conjuring up an image of a young girl in a frilly frock, we'll think instead of a sweet-spirited young woman with, above all else, a heart that puts others first.

Harry Potter and..the Pursuit of God

Even Atheists long for God.  No, they won't admit that's what they're searching for, but since God made everyone, I think there's something in all of us that seeks to draw us to him. 

In an article I read in the January 8th issue of Parade Magazine,  Daniel Radcliffe (a.k.a. Harry Potter) responds to a question about religion.  "I have a problem with religion or anything that says, "We have all the answers," because there's no such thing as 'the answers.'  We're complex.  We change our minds on issues all the time.  Religion leaves no room for human complexity."

Ahhh, young Harry, but it does.  You are right.  People are complex.  And life is hard.  As Christians, though, we have a direct line to the big man upstairs.  Jesus loves me, and that's enough. 

And so says Radcliffe, "I started to see the potential for acting as storytelling, as being part of something fundamental to human existence."  

You are right again.  We are all characters in the greatest story ever told, the one where God shows us again and again that he loves us and longs for a relationship with us.  Over and over, we turn our backs on him.  Yet, he continued to pursue us, ultimately sending Jesus here to live and die and save us from our sin so we could live forever.  You, Daniel Radcliffe, have a place in that story, too.

"What I learned is that acting is to a large extent about trying to stave off self-doubt long enough to be natural and real onstage.  I have quite a rich inner life, and I'm constantly looking for a way to express that.  I haven't found it yet in acting.  Self-expression is something that I love and yearn for. "

You haven't found it in acting because the expression of your soul can only be found in the one who created it:  God.

I love the poetry of the words of Jeremiah 17:7.  In these words, we find no room for self doubt.

"But blessed is the man who 
trusts in the Lord, 
whose confidence is in him.  He will be like a tree planted 
by the water that sends out its roots by 
the stream.  It does not fear when heat 
comes;
its leaves are always green.  
It has no worries in a year of 
drought 
and never fails to bear fruit."

Radcliffe ends by saying, "I still see something very romantic in the world that perhaps isn't there."  He's sees God, but he doesn't recognize him.

What Mary Taught Me

Every year, at Christmastime, our family reads The Christmas Story.  As a child, my family read it together on Christmas Eve.  Now, my children look forward to sharing the reason for the season as we enjoy the traditions of the holiday at our house.   It's found in Luke 2 and is the written account of Jesus' birth.  There's a verse I love, though have often missed, toward the end of the account.  It reads simply,  "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."   (19)

Young Mary, a virgin visited by an angel and told that she would be the mother of the Son of God.  Traveled, pregnant, on a donkey, to Bethlehem to participate in Caesar's census.
Gave birth in a stable.
Wrapped her child in cloths and laid him in a feeding trough.
Visited by shepherds and angels.
Then, fled to Egypt to escape Herod's jealousy.
Mother of a king.

Mary "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart".  She was a young girl on the brink of a bright future with a new husband, when things turned suddenly awry.  In the course of one sleepless night, the outcome of her fate (and ours) changed forever.  How do you think she felt?

For the first time this year, we included a Bible verse on the front of our Christmas card.  I'm wondering if Mary remembered these verses as she watched God's promise to her unfold?  Proverbs 3:3-4 says, "Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.  Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man." 

When Mary "pondered", I think she was writing a history of all that transpired on the tablet of her heart.  In a song she penned, she declares, "My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.  From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me--holy is his name."  (Luke 1:46-49)

Clearly, she clung to the promise of Proverbs 3.  At the risk of sounding blasphemous, I used to read these verses and think that Mary sounded anything but humble.  Now, I get it.  She understood that when you let love and faithfulness never leave you, when you bind them around your neck and write them on the tablet of your heart, you win favor and a good name in the sight of both God and man.  Two thousand years later, we honor Mary for her faith in the face of humiliation and adversity.  Additionally, we glorify God because he chose Mary to be the mother of his precious son. 

What does it mean to ponder?  How do you bind love and faithfulness around your neck?  What does it look like to write these things on the tablet of your heart?  Reading these words now, I think it's how we remember what God has done on our behalf.

We recognize.
We reflect.
We remember.

Over and over again, and throughout both the Old and New Testaments, we find that God's chosen people offered prayers of thanksgiving and praise.  Their love and faithfulness filled their hearts with the message that God keeps his promises, and like Mary, we can say with faith, "I am the Lord's servant....May it be to me as you have said." (Luke 1:38) Many times throughout her life, I have to believe that Mary consulted the tablet of her heart.  If she's like me, then she needed to tap into what was written there to remind herself that in the midst of heartache, pain, suffering, and even joy, God reigns.  His love endures forever.

May you remember the message of God's love for you this Christmas.  He sent his only son into the world to live and die for our sins.  He conquered death to live again that you who were lost might find him and accept him and receive eternal life.

Merry Christmas!

God Thinks You're Beautiful

Sitting at my computer, I typed frantically, trying to get the words down before I forgot them.  I was oblivious to everything going on at home.  I needed to get my work done.  My youngest daughter tapped my leg.  She bounced up and down.  "Mom," she said, "Do you know that God thinks you're beautiful?"

I paused for a second.  God thinks I'm beautiful?  I bent down and gently kissed my daughter's forehead.  I felt a smile creep to my lips.  What a wonderful interruption!  What prompted it?

At the moment, I felt neither ugly nor beautiful, but I welcomed the pause.  My other daughter is in middle school, and she would never admit it, but she often feels awkward and gangly.  The girls in her class judge each other ruthlessly.  She agonizes over her clothes and hair and who she will sit with at lunch.   I hope she remembers that God thinks she's beautiful.  I hope that God interrupts her negative thoughts and reminds her that he thinks she's beautiful.  He made her, he loves her, and he thinks she is beautiful.

And on days when I'm feeling ugly, I pray I'll remember that God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I'm short with my kids, God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I'm behind on my chores, God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I compare myself to other moms, God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I over-commit and under-deliver, God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I'm tired and grouchy, God thinks I'm beautiful.  When I am anything but beautiful, God thinks I'm beautiful.

Psalm 139:14
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well. 

I love that verse.  It's a reminder that our duty is to praise God for what he has made.  Each and every one of us is a wonderful work of art.  Let's all be as candid and frank as the toddler:  "Do you know that God thinks you're beautiful?"  Yes, he thinks you're beautiful.  Just the way you are.  You are not defined by your wrinkles, your gray hair, your husband, your job, or your kids.  You are exactly as you should be, wonderful because the one who made you is wonderful, beautiful because the one who made you is beautiful.

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this song by Gungor--whenever I need a little reminder.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OR7VOKQ0xJY 

What's On Your Mind?

"What's on your mind?"

A penny for your thoughts.  And that's the million dollar question.  It's the question Facebook asks me every time I open up the application, and its the question that made the inventors rich.  What I've found, though, is that the thoughts that dominate most people's days are pretty mundane.  Especially on the weekend.  I know.  I'm a loser for even looking at Facebook on the weekend.  So this weekend I'm writing about it instead.

It bothers me, though, that with a daily opportunity to tell the world what's going on in our lives, so often we use it for self-promotion, the dreaded "face-bragging", or a general commentary of our daily activity.  The worst kinds of messages are the ones that don't say anything at all.  For example,

"Praying for the Smith family today after the horrible tragedy that occurred last night."

What?  There are a couple of problems with this post.  First of all, I don't know who the Smith family is, but most importantly, I'm suddenly sad that something awful has happened to them, yet I have no idea what it is, and worse, I'm powerless to do anything about it.  And so...there is a litany of comments that go something like this:

"So sad."
"Yikes!  What happened?"
"Is everyone OK?"
"Is there anything we can do?"
"What's going on?"

Usually, the "friend"  doesn't respond to all these questions, and we are left wondering why he posted it in the first place.  Does he just want to see how many people will comment? And what about the Smith family themselves?  It's a mystery, but they are strangely silent on this day.   I guess, dear friend, they don't want you to publicly share their private pain with 548 of your closest friends.

I love, though, that everyday on that site I come face-to-face with a community filled with insight, awareness, and inspiration.  As Facebook has evolved, so have the posts.

Three years ago, when Gavin introduced me to it, he highlighted one friend's page:

"Joe Jones is... bored."
"Joe Jones is... taking a nap."
"Joe Jones is... craving a hamburger and french fries."
"Joe Jones is... going to work."

Joe Jones is not his real name.  But since that day, Joe Jones actually met a nice girl and got married and has grown up a lot.  I know all of this, of course, because I have been following him on Facebook.


At the time, I think my response was, "And why do I care?"  Of course, I created a profile and Joe Jones became one of my first friends.  And everyday (sometimes several times a day) I would look at my News Feed and see not only what Joe Jones was doing (or not doing) but hundreds of other people as well.  Who knows the countless hours I, dare I say it, ...wasted..., doing this?

Facebook brings out the best in me.

Facebook brings out the worst in me.

For starters, I smile every time I see a precious photo of someone's child or learn of someone overcoming obstacles to reach goals.  But when I hear of people's fabulous vacations, sometimes it seems like they are saying directly to me:  "Are you jealous?"  Yes, yes I am.  I am very, very jealous.

Or how about when someone posts what they're having for dinner?  It seems what they're really saying is, "Hey, don't you wish you were invited?"  Sorry, pal.  Not tonight.  Not ever.

If I had still been in college when Facebook came around, I think I would have been mortified that my parents, though three hundred miles away, could stalk me there any time day or night.  Even now, at 37, I'm sometimes horrified by the thought.  And I have nothing to hide.  If I would let five hundred friends (strangers?) see what I'm doing everyday and speak into my life, why am I hesitant to allow my own parents to do the same thing?

What's on my  mind doesn't seem so significant when shared with strangers, but the people who love me who see into my heart, that just seems so intimate--almost like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  Remember, how she didn't want to kiss on the lips?  Too personal, too intimate.  Ewww....

Words are powerful.  When you share what's on your mind, consider this: "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building other us according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."  Ephesians 4:29

I wholeheartedly believe in social media, but with great power comes great responsibility.  In a venue where teenagers have cultivated mortal enemies and adults scandalous relationships, we all would be wise to heed the words found in Proverbs 12:18:  "Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing."

What are you doing to promote love and foster a spirit of shared friendship on the social media sites that represent you?  In my opinion, if you can make me think or make me laugh, you got the words exactly right.

Season of Contentment

God is the creator of the universe, the ultimate wellspring of creativity, and I believe he bestows on people all the ideas for beauty and change in the world.  He plants these little seeds in the minds of many people, knowing that someone somewhere will choose to act upon that little nudge that really is God's voice inside his head . Although this blog is a tiny thing I write primarily for my own benefit, for me, it is a response to that little nudge. Somewhere, a long time ago, I loved to write—stories, poems, short plays---and read, too, anything I could get my hands on. I devoted whole days to writing and reading, and I never wanted to stop.  But somewhere along the way, LIFE got in the way, and the excruciating minutia of everyday living sucked the life right out of me. I got married, got a job, got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant, and got pregnant. Now, fifteen years and four kids later, there is time for little else but cooking, cleaning, washing, and serving. The ME person has begun to wither, as the little mini-MEs have begun to thrive. It is a beautiful time and a dark time. I think sometimes about that person that once was me and wonder where she went. Although it may be true that “Practice makes perfect,” sometimes I feel that I am JUST TRYING TO KEEP UP. There’s no time for practicing. This idea of practicing to make perfect has begun to haunt me. If I COULD practice, what would it be that I would be working on? What could be my thing? And wasn’t a little bit of practice better than no practice at all? And so here I am.  Writing a blog to myself.

We live in a very large neighborhood, and so to get from place to place I often drive our three-seater golf cart, (known affectionately by our friends as a "people transporter"). Today, as I was shuttling kids around the neighborhood during an afternoon ride, I ran into a new friend. She is starting her own business, partnering with two local businesses to do what she loves and what is clearly her gift during this season of economic instability. I felt energized after our conversation. Here lives a very talented and gifted person, with a husband and three kids, affluent, and who clearly doesn’t HAVE to go back to work. For her, this new opportunity is not work. Instead, it is an outlet for her God-given creative genius. She can’t NOT do this. The creativity is bubbling over. It’s eeking out of her pores. Her season is sprouting, and in the process those dormant buds that had been there all along are finally being tended and watered. Guess what? She’s blooming. Yes, she’s blooming where she’s planted!

Another friend in another town, equally as talented, equally as gifted, also has three kids. She’s frustrated by the incompleteness of her children’s public school education. She’s one of the most innovative and creative people that I know.  She’s the kind of person who throws theme birthday parties that are beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.  She dreams of bringing people together—through book clubs, wine tastings, vacations, etc.  She sees the potential in people and capitalizes on their strengths, encourages them in their weaknesses, and in the process emerges herself as an inspirational leader of a rag tag group of women.   Her frustration with the public education system has caused her to design a new, more innovative system that partners with parents in ways most people never even thought possible.

I have another dear friend who would love to have four kids, but instead, after a very difficult and dark season of infertility, embraces only one natural born child. Longing for what could be, she has not allowed herself to wallow in what may never be. Instead, she immersed herself in this season doing what she loves most—tirelessly working to bring God's love and provision to a remote village in Uganda, Africa. Here she is in an uncomfortable season, but with the resources and time to do the very thing that makes her feel most alive, she multiplies the investment of God's creativity in her.  Meanwhile, she has been working to bring an adopted daughter home from Ethiopia.  Trials and setbacks only made her praise God more fervently, allowed him to work in her more completely, and just yesterday she claimed her little girl as her own.

These are the people that inspire me. For now, though I write of a “season of contentment”, content is not something I feel every day. In fact, in the midst of the chaotic rough and tumble household that I call “home”,  I sometimes feel the very OPPOSITE of content. Contentment is something I have to CHOOSE.   It is a conscientious choice that I make every single morning. Rising before the sun rises, never stopping until the last child is tucked safely in her bed and the dishes are washed, the clothes are folded, the family room is straightened, and the next day’s lunches are packed, I have to choose to be OK with life’s messiness. I know that one day I will miss the dusty footprints and greasy fingerprints.  I pray the imprint they leave on my soul, though, will last a lifetime. If a little bit of me must die so that each of them can thrive, I will do it.   I CHOOSE contentment.  The reward is eternal.

My Recurring Dream

My bed is my refuge.  I love crawling between the cool sheets in the darkness of night, laying my head on my favorite pillow and drifting silently into dreamland.  But my nightly dreams aren't always of the sweet variety.

I have a recurring dream.  It's unlike other dreams of which I am familiar.  I don't dream about public speaking in my underwear or missing important tests.  Rarely, do I dream of being chased, falling, or losing my teeth.  Maybe my dream isn't all that unique, but I have it so regularly now that I do feel lit belongs to me particularly.   It's a vision that has evolved as the years have passed, and I am desperately trying to figure out what it means.

In the dream, an animal approaches me and puts his teeth on my hand.  He doesn't clamp down, but just barely touches his teeth to the skin of my hand.  I am paralyzed with fear.  I'm afraid to jerk away because the animal might clamp down even harder.  I remain rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to scream.  The animal varies, but this scene is the same.  At first, my animal tormentor  was a bear,  then a hyena, a wolf, and, because the animal's size has been trending downward, eventually a dog.  I have been having this dream for years, and most recently, the animal was only a tiny chipmunk.  In spite of my sub-conscious recognizing the situation, my instincts prevailed, and I flung the animal across the room.  Only this time, he attacked me more ferociously, more tenaciously.  Try as I might, I could not shake him away the second time.

Whatever it is that has its hold on me is getting smaller, yet, the grasp remains firm.  I wonder if it's a fear I need to overcome?  Maybe it's a sin of which I need to repent.   I don't know.  The funny thing is that if I do determine what it is that has me in his jaws, I almost fear the dream will go away.  Ironic.  Truly, it is a nightmare, and yet it is so familiar to me that if I never have the dream again, I think I might miss it.

I John 4:18-19--"There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love.  We love because he first loved us."

When I read this verse, I felt a little disturbed.  Fear and love.  I never put the two together before now.  Maybe it's not something I fear that is causing the dream.  Maybe instead it's something I don't love.  Don't love?   I am a Christian.  I am supposed to love everyone and everything.  And yet I fear that perhaps there is something or someone I don't. Today, I pray that God will reveal his truth to me in the light so that what haunts me in the night will no longer have power over me.

Thinking about this now, I realize that that's the way it is with sin, too.  I've met so many people who are afraid to come to Christ, because for them it means giving up something that is familiar to them--maybe something big like excessive drinking or gambling.  But sometimes, giving up something small like a TV show that isn't helpful can be just as difficult.  We fear the sacrifice because we think we're being punished, even though the reward is amazing.  I love that this verse in I John holds a promise--"Perfect love drives out fear".  Jesus Christ is perfect love, and because he fills us, there is no room for fear.  Fear and love.  Opposites.  Antagonists.  Us against God.  He loved me first.  I can give in, give up, or give it my all.  If this evening I experience another episode of Night of the Killer Chipmunks, at least I have some scriptural ammunition to use in my counter-attack.