God Does Give Us More Than We Can Handle

She sat across the table at my favorite café nervously running her fingers around the mug of freshly brewed coffee trying ever-so-bravely to find the courage to speak the words she oh-so-desperately needed to say. Fighting back tears, she whispered the words like a confession — filled with guilt & anger, fearing judgement. “If it’s true that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle — why did God allow this? I certainSly can’t handle THIS! Am a failing as a Mama AND failing in my faith?”

She continued to share her story.

The words she spoke were filled with heartbreak & anguish — devastating, despairing words — for there is no pain on earth like watching your child suffer. I could feel her brokenness, her helplessness, her hopelessness.

And you know the words I *didn’t* speak to her today? “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” I cringe every time I hear these words spoken. Let’s just state it simply, plainly — these words are not in the Bible. These words are not the truth.

I have heard compassionate & kind, tender-hearted & well-meaning people offer these words as an attempt at comforting those who are fighting terminal illness, literally walking through the valley of the shadow of death — those whose children are living under the shadow of unbearable suffering — those who are in marriages wrought with abuse — those who have lost loved ones to devastating, wasting diseases — those who are wrestling with doubt & fear — those who pour out their gut-wrenching, heart-breaking stories with tears of lament.

“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

Can you imagine for even a moment how piercing, how wounding these words sound to those who are already at their darkest, weakest points?

Perhaps you don’t need to imagine how piercing, how wounding these words sound because they have been said to you — in your darkest, weakest point.

My friend, today I am speaking words that are true. God does give us more than we can handle. Yes, there it is. I said it.

God does give us more than we can handle.

God does give us more than we can handle. But God also gives us His presence IN the midst of what we can’t handle.

My heart is reminded of these words I wrote recently to a friend —
“So I give thanks *not for every circumstance,* but for God’s faithful promise to be with me, before me, behind me, beside me *IN every circumstance!*”

God has given me more than I can handle. Repeatedly. In my journey of faith. On the road I have traveled marked with long-suffering & grief. God has given me more than I can handle.

And yet — when my faith is fading — God is faithful. When I’m ever-so-desperately holding onto hope — I have found that the LORD is Hope holding onto me.

When my song is a weary hallelujah — even when my faith is fading, even when my faith falters & fails — when there seems to be no joy in the mourning — no strength in the waiting — no hope in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & in the darkest valleys — even when I raise my clenched-fists toward heaven through tears & lament, “How long, oh LORD?”

God has been faithful to meet me. In the mourning, in the waiting, in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & the darkest valleys, yes even in my laments.

God has given me more than I can handle. But God has also given me His presence IN the midst of what I can’t handle.

God has been faithful.

Every. Single. Time.

To come quiet my restless heart with love, to strengthen my faith & my song…

THIS is how to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering. THIS is how to sing praises when faith is fading. THIS is how to pray when God does give you more than we can handle —

When I am consumed by darkness & despair — there is no darkness that can overcome the light of Your love. There is no depth of despair beyond the reach of Your whispers of hope.

When I am on the road marked with grief, mourning, long-suffering — there is no end to Your comfort for You are well-acquainted with the darkest valley of shadows & suffering.

When I am wrestling with doubt —
there is no end to how You delight to quiet my restless heart with your love that knows no end.

When I can not see how You are working all things together for my good — there is no end to Your promise to strengthen my faith to hope in what I can not yet see.

God, when You give me more than I can handle — You also give me Your presence. You are faithful — Hallelujah & Amen.

Yes, it’s true. God does give us more than we can handle. (Perhaps we should say, “God *** allows more than we can handle.”)

But even so — we do not need to be afraid. For when the waters rise — when the storms rage —when faith is fading — and you lift up your eyes to the One who is faithful to remain before you, behind you, beside you, lifting you up — in the darkest valleys facing your deepest fears, in the deserts of doubt, in the wilderness wandering —

When you realize that God is still faithful forevermore & always — in ALL circumstances  — God will strengthen your heart, your hope, your faith, your songs of praise — even if it remains a weary Hallelujah, a lament through tears with white-knuckled clenched fists barely holding on.

God does give us more than we can handle.

If that’s you today. Lift up your voice, reach out your hands to the LORD — and you will find the LORD is already holding onto you — for He is strong & mighty to save! He delights to come & quiet your restless heart with His love — He desires that you rest & rejoice in His promises to be faithful. Always. Forevermore. Even when you can not yet see how He will work it all together for good.

God does give us more than we can handle. But God also gives us His presence IN the midst of what we can’t handle.

“So I’m preaching Gospel to myself, and my restless heart is called to rejoice…

“Rejoice always — pray continually — give thanks in ALL circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I give thanks *not for every circumstance,* but for God’s faithful promise to be with me, before me, behind me, beside me *IN every circumstance!*

THIS is how to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering. The LORD is faithful to be with me in the wilderness! THIS is how to sing praises when faith is fading. The LORD is my strength & my song! THIS is how to pray when hope seems lost. The LORD is Hope holding onto me as an anchor for my soul! So I will choose to sing “even so it is well with my soul!” The LORD has filled my heart with laughter & songs of praise!

God does give us more than we can handle. But God is always faithful to give us His presence IN the midst of what we can’t handle. And THAT is good news. Good news indeed. Hallelujah & Amen.

What IS Gospel? The Gospel of Matthew Teaching Series Week 1

What IS Gospel?
The Gospel of Matthew Teaching Series Week 1

The gospel according to Matthew.
What IS gospel? 

It’s an all-too-often forgotten question.

The very first word of this book inscribed before the lineage, before the story of Jesus’ birth, before the Sermon on the Mount, before the parables regarding the Kingdom of God. Is gospel.

The gospel. The Greek word is
εὐαγγέλιον/euaggelion/noun/the good news/ the good news of the coming of the Messiah.

First & foremost, when this letter was penned by a scribe centuries ago, today & forevermore. The gospel is good news — the good news is that the Messiah, Jesus, Savior & Immanuel has come to us & remains with us.

We must hear what follows in the book of Matthew as good news — words to give renewed hope & strengthened faith — hearing the parables anew & afresh as we walk in the dust, in the footsteps of Jesus.

What is this good news in Matthew chapter 1?

1) Jesus Was A Jew
Jesus was born a Jew in the line of David. The Gospels go to painstaking lengths, with great detail — through centuries of genealogies — to show Jesus’ heritage, his lineage & legacy of faith — born as a Jew to devout, faithful Jewish parents (see Matthew chapter 1).

As we hear Jesus teach through the Gospel of Matthew we must remember Jesus is Jewish, teaching Jewish disciples, speaking to a primarily Jewish audience. THIS will transform how we hear the parables — hearing Jesus’ words in context, fully immersed in Jewish culture, customs, traditions & Hebrew Scriptures (what Christians call the Old Testament).

THIS is good news. For we will hear Jesus’ words with increased clarity & depth. And in so doing — be able to walk closer to Jesus with increased faith & deeper love.

2) Jesus Is Savior & Immanuel
The good news is that the Messiah has come as Savior & Immanuel!

Jesus — is the prophetic promise realized — He is the promised Messiah, Savior & Immanuel. As the angel told Joseph, “He will be called Jesus for He will save His people from their sins.” “He is Immanuel — God with us.”

It remains true that Jesus still speaks good news because Jesus IS the good news. The Word in flesh whose very Name today still reveals the prophetic promise fulfilled. Jesus is Messiah, Jesus is Savior, Jesus is Immanuel!

We must keep this in mind as we walk in the dust, in the footsteps of Jesus — a Jewish Rabbi teaching Jewish disciples. As we seek to understand what is truly means when we pray “Your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.”

First & foremost, when this letter was penned by a scribe centuries ago, today & forevermore. The gospel is good news — the good news is that the Messiah, Jesus, Savior & Immanuel has come to us & remains with us. 

Let us walk together in the promise of THIS gospel, THIS good news as we study through The Gospel of Matthew together!

Strength In The Waiting

“All we can do is wait.”

I remember those words as if they were spoken yesterday. He continued to speak kindly, gently, softly as though that it would somehow silence the fear & worry so quickly consuming my thoughts & overwhelming my heart.

Alone in the doctor’s office after reviewing a routinely-scheduled ultrasound.

“Twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome is rare — effecting a mere 15% of all identical-twin-pregnancies. There is a 60% chance you’ll loose one or both of the twins. We will monitor your pregnancy carefully to continually assess their growth & development. All we can do is wait.”

Waiting — so much of life is spent waiting.

Waiting. At 39-weeks-pregnant. Waiting with such joy for your baby’s first breath — to hold that child in your arms — her/his tiny, precious, perfect fingers wrapped around yours for the very first-time.

Waiting. 39-years-old & still not pregnant. Waiting with such sorrow — arms empty, heart aching & longing oh-so-desperately for a baby of your own.

Waiting. For that phone call. For those test results. Holding onto hope. Praying for faith greater than your fear.

Waiting. For a job opportunity that will provide for your family’s needs.

Waiting. For a way out of the never-ending, ever-pressing debts you have no way to pay — tirelessly working week-to-week, month-to-month yet hard-pressed just to cover medical bills, groceries, rent, utilities.

Waiting. For your life to resemble anything close to what you expected, what you hoped.

So much of life is spent waiting.
And all-too-often our waiting is spent worrying.

Friends, I confess that there are days I wrestle with doubt & worry in my waiting.

There are days — when I can not see — how God is at work.

There are difficulties, diseases, hardships, heartbreaks, trials, tragedies, long-suffering — when I can not see — how God will work all things together for good — for God to do abundantly, exceedingly, immeasurably more than we ask, think or even imagine.

The root of worrying in the waiting is found in these few words — when I can not see.

When I can not see.

But my friends — THIS is the very definition of faith — faith is the promise of what is hoped for — what is yet unseen —  Faith is trusting when I can not see.

So I have to make a choice. To trust, to rest, yes even to rejoice in God’s faithful promises — for God is faithful to give strength in the waiting —

For the LORD says to me & to you —

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will hold you in my arms” (Isaiah 41:10).

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

When my song is a weary hallelujah — even when my faith falters, when my faith is fading, when there seems to be no joy in the mourning, no strength in the waiting, no hope in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & in the darkest valleys — even when I raise my clenched-fists toward heaven through tears & lament, “How long, oh LORD?”

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

To come quiet my restless, worrying heart with love —

to strengthen my faith & my song! 

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

Through the years I have learned — through my own journey on the road marked with long-suffering & worrying in the waiting — God is faithful to be present as I wrestle with doubt — God is faithful even when my faith is fading — God is faithful to give strength in the waiting — when I can not see. God has been faithful to meet me. In the mourning, in the waiting, in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & the darkest valleys, yes even in my laments.

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

And here at the end I return to the beginning. From that moment. From the diagnosis & prognosis for our twins — the sweet boys we already loved so deeply that our hearts physically ached every time we faced the reality that we might loose them — my pregnancy was filled with hope & grief, delight & despair, laughter & tears, faith & doubt — yes worrying while waiting. We chose the names Josiah & Isaiah — both meaning, “The LORD will save.” And today — when I am caught up worrying in the waiting — I trust, rest & rejoice in The LORD’s great gifts, faithful promises — every time I hold those silly & sweet, rough-n-tumble, wildly-affectionate boys of mine in my arms — healthy, strong & 4-years-old.

My heart is reminded of these words I recently wrote to a friend —

“So I’m preaching Gospel to myself, and my restless heart is called to rejoice…

“Rejoice always — pray continually — give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I give thanks *not for every circumstance,* but for God’s faithful promise to be with me, before me, behind me, beside me *IN every circumstance*

Because of God’s faithful promise to be with me IN the waiting — I choose not to be found worrying, but worshipping in the waiting! Yes, when I can not see!

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

THIS is how to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering —-> The LORD is faithful to be with me in the wilderness! THIS is how to sing praises when faith is fading —-> The LORD is my strength & my song! THIS is how not to be found worrying but worshipping in the waiting —-> because God is faithful to give strength in the waiting — when I can not see! So I will choose to sing “even so it is well with my soul!” The LORD has filled my heart with laughter & songs of praise!

When I can not see — I must trust in the One holding onto me.

Listen Well. Love Well.

I am wearied as a Christian by so many words of judgement bordering hatred exploding all over my FB newsfeed & in conversation recently — via Baltimore, race, prejudice, systemic racism & failings of justice — the upcoming 2016 presidential election & candidates — the gay, lesbian, bisexual & transgendered community. Even as I sit down to type these words I can feel the heaviness in my heart. It’s exhausting & fatiguing — watching people who claim to be Christians — tear others & each other apart with criticism, shaming, judgement & finger-pointing under the guise of “hating the sin.” Please, remember — these people are not mere numbers or statistics, not agendas or issues, not even sensationalist headlines. They are not for objectifying, analyzing, vilifying. They are people. People with stories to share. So this is my challenge to you & to me. I know it sounds simple. Almost too simple. But I also know it works. Listen well to love well. Are you listening?  It is exceedingly difficult if not impossible to objectify others, to be quick to judge, to pridefully assert moral superiority when you are sitting face-to-face with someone as they pour out their heart through tears, laments, long-suffering. When you hear their stories. When you learn to listen well — you will learn to love well. Are you listening? Imagine Christians who do not offer judgement with pointed-fingers, instead Christians who extend grace with with open hands, with open hearts & say “tell me your story. I am listening.” When you learn to listen well — you will learn to love well. And before you judge, before you call them names — remember God calls them loved. Yes, they are people God loves as deeply, fully, richly as He loves you & me. And we rejoice — that while WE were yet sinners God demonstrated His immeasurable, boundless love — far greater than our limits & expectations — by sending Jesus to us. And Jesus — the only One with the only right to judge & condemn says LOVE. Jesus *still says* to the Church, “Let the one without sin cast the first stone…” Jesus *still says* — “by the same measure with which you judge others you will be judged.” To “don’t judge a person until you walk a mile in their shoes” — Jesus says, “Walk 2-miles. Don’t judge at all, walk in love.” To “love the sinner, hate the sin” — Jesus says, “While you were yet sinners I died on your behalf to prove the immeasurable, boundless love of God. There is no room for hate, or judgement in a heart so filled with love.” And yes. At this point I might be called a liberal. So be it. For the longer I walk humbly with God, the more certain I am that to walk in the way of one who belongs to Jesus is to walk by faith & walk in love. Radical, whole-hearted love — without judgement, without measure, without conditions. Love that is rich in grace, kindness & forgiveness. Love that is sacrificial & selfless. Immeasurable, boundless love. The way that God loves us! The greatest commandment is love. The greatest of these is love. All that remains is love. Imagine Christians who love others the way God loves us. Love that comes beside us in the midst of our failings & mistakes — love that comes beside us in the face of our greatest obstacles — to cheer on & encourage, to celebrate & rejoice in the growing, learning, trying but not yet quite succeeding. Love that delights to lift each other up when we fall, when we fail. Radical, whole-hearted love — without judgement, without measure, without conditions. Love that is rich in grace, kindness & forgiveness. Love that is sacrificial & selfless. There is no room for judgement in a heart so filled with this love. Imagine Christians who do not offer judgement with pointed-fingers, instead Christians who extend grace with with open hands, with open hearts & say “tell me your story. I am listening.” Are you listening? When you learn to listen well — you will learn to love well. And before you judge, before you call them names — remember God calls them loved. Jesus said, Love. The greatest commandment is love. The greatest of these is love. All that remains is love. May it be said of me. Hallelujah & Amen.

We Are Better Together

    My favorite barista at the café greeted me with the warmest welcome as I rushed through the front door.
Rushed is my default setting — I’m always in a hurry yet always behind. My children have just 2-speeds — full-force, full-speed-ahead & sleeping. Which is why I love my morning coffee & espresso ever-so-much. As a Mama one of my mottos to get through the day is “keep caffeinating.”

I’m always in a hurry yet always behind. Hard-pressed on every side — everything seems urgent. All. The. Time.
My ever-pressing, never-ending to-do-list is waiting to greet me as I rise to face another day of the same. Tirelessly working morning to night yet all-too-often feeling I’ve accomplished nothing.

More days than I like to admit I feel discouraged, disheartened, defeated — like I’m fighting a loosing battle with only small moments of victory along the way — yet no end in sight.

I’m always in a hurry yet always behind.
My admittedly long days as a Mama “in-the-trenches” are filled with managing the messes & mischief of my little loves. My admittedly restless nights are filled with racing thoughts & questions —

“Am I doing this whole parenting thing right? Am I loving my children with love that is patient, love that is kind, love that is not easily angered & keeps no record of wrongs? (when I’m honest — raw, transparent, unfiltered honest — I’m still a work-in-progress with those last two pieces.) Am a good mom?”

So back to my favorite barista at the café — after she greeted me with the warmest welcome as I rushed through the front door — barely hanging onto my keys & wallet (my sanity) — with my sweet baby daughter on my hip — she said to me, “You’re such a good mom.”

And I thought — she doesn’t know, she doesn’t see.

How my oldest son was almost late for picture day at the soccer field on Saturday. Running toward his team with his cleats untied, his mismatched shinguards on display because he hasn’t quite mastered the feat of soccer socks. How I came running after him with my daughter’s diaper bag unzipped, my guilt & shame on display — those sideways-looks & sighs of judgement from the other parents — because I haven’t quite mastered the feat of bringing 4-children to the soccer field solo on a summer morning. Because I was THAT mom.

And I thought — she doesn’t know, she doesn’t see.

How my boys wrestled in the sand at the lake — their faces covered in sweat, sand & smiles. How they were too caught-up in their delight & glee stretching the limits of their strength — to hear me when I calmly yet sternly told them it was time to leave. How I wrested with my anger, struggling not to raise my voice the *very second* the mini-van doors closed.

And I thought — she doesn’t know, she doesn’t see.

How my not-quite 9-month-old daughter pulled up to stand for the FIRST-time yesterday! What a moment to celebrate & cheer — but as she accomplished this milestone — my sweet baby girl knocked my mug off the coffee table spilling at least half of that perfectly handcrafted latte — ON the clean laundry I had just finished folding. All before 9am.

How later that afternoon — after I (re)washed & (re)folded all the laundry & linens — Hannah had a poop-explosion all over herself & my dress. While I was changing our clothes & cleaning her up — Josiah & Isaiah (my 4-year-old twins) had a lightsaber “duel” at the potty resulting in pee on the bathroom floor — which they had to clean up.

How as soon as we settled down for quiet time — Hannah spit-up all over my face. While I was changing our clothes (again) Josiah & Isaiah were playfully wrestling laughing with such delight — until Isaiah gave Josiah a bloody nose. And it was only 3pm.

And I was struggling to love with love that is patient, kind, not easily angered, with love that does not keep records of wrongs (and messes).

And I thought — she doesn’t know, she doesn’t see.

But then I thought — she is a Mom too.

When we are honest — transparent, raw, real, unfiltered honest — we have been the parent with a defiant toddler in the grocery store. We have been the parent raising our voice at the park or playground. We have been the parent wrestling with our anger as our children from toddlers to teenagers repeatedly test the boundaries we set for them. We have been the parent wrestling with restless sleep in the dark of night — wondering if we’re doing this whole parenting thing “right.” There are days when we feel like giving up.

And this is why we need each other.

This is why we are better together.

Because there are far too many days we focus on our failings, shortcomings & mistakes.

Because there are far too many days we don’t give ourselves enough grace.

Because there are far too many days we believe that we haven’t done enough, that we aren’t good enough.

And this is why we need each other.

This is why we are better together.

Because the days we most need to hear this truth, “You’re such a good mom“ are the days when we believe the lie — “you are not enough.”

On those days when we feel like giving up, when faith is fading, when we are ever-so-desperately holding onto hope — we must stand arm-in-arm, side-by-side, lifting each other up to say, “You are such a good Mom. You are enough. Because on those days when you feel like giving up, you keep showing up & giving all your love!

When we are weary & on the days we feel like giving up — we must stand arm-in-arm, side-by-side, lifting each other up to rest & rejoice in God’s faithful promise — that God does not grow weary of giving us His perfect love —

love that is patient, kind, not easily angered, love that does not keep a record of wrongs — with Love that comes beside us in the midst of the mess to cheer on & encourage, to celebrate & rejoice in the growing, learning, trying but not yet quite succeeding — to lift us up when we fall, when we fail!”

We need each other.

We are better together.

Holding Onto Hope

My not-quite-yet 9-month-old sweet baby girl was playing happily at my feet as I folded yet another load of laundry tonight. After a few minutes she looked up at me with that smile that lights up her whole face, reached her tiny arms toward me & said, “ma-ma-ma!” I reached down to lift her up (of course) and she gave me a hug — for the FIRST-time — and fell fast asleep in my arms — as I held her ever-so-tightly!

And in that moment I realized.

So it is with faith.

All this time. When I thought I had been ever-so-desperately holding onto hope.

Hope has been holding onto me.

Just like my daughter reached her arms toward me, calling my name. When I reach my arms toward the LORD, calling on His Name, He will reach down to lift me up. For THAT is what He has promised. Can you hear it? Can you hear this faithful promise of God breathed anew?

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will hold you in my arms.” [Isaiah 41:10]

These words bring such comfort — for when my song is a weary hallelujah — even when my faith falters, when my faith is fading, when there seems to be no joy in the mourning, no strength in the waiting, no hope in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & in the darkest valleys — even when I raise my clenched-fists toward heaven through tears & lament, “How long, oh LORD?”

In the mourning, in the waiting, in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & the darkest valleys, yes even in my laments. All this time. When I thought I had been ever-so-desperately holding onto hope.

Hope has been holding onto me.

When I can not see how God is working all things together for my good — God promises to strengthen my faith to hope in what I can not yet see. All this time. When I thought I had been ever-so-desperately holding onto hope.

Hope has been holding onto me.

Hope IS holding onto me.

To come quiet my restless heart with love, to strengthen my faith & my song…

Hope IS holding onto me.

So I give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering. So I sing praises when faith is fading. The LORD is my strength & my song! The LORD is Hope holding onto me as an anchor for my soul! So I will choose to sing “even so it is well with my soul!” The LORD has filled my heart with laughter & songs of praise!

All this time. When I thought I had been ever-so-desperately holding onto hope. I have found — Hope IS holding onto me!

Hallelujah & Amen. Thanks be to God.

Don’t Blame It On The Rain

My sweet daughter woke up @5:30am — she didn’t go back to sleep. My three boys woke up @6am — full-force & full-speed-ahead. For they only have two-speeds — full-speed & sleeping. On this cold, cloudy, rainy morning.

So my sweet husband brought me my favorite latte @8am while I was buried beneath yet another load of laundry to fold AND sorting through our dirty sheets & towels — because it’s a rainy day after-all — why not tackle some extra housework, right?

And then my not-quite 9-month-old daughter pulled up to stand for the FIRST-time — what a moment to celebrate & cheer — but as she accomplished this milestone my sweet baby girl knocked my mug off the coffee table spilling at least half of that perfectly handcrafted latte — ON the clean laundry — I had just finished folding. All before 9am. While I do not cry over spilled milk — I definitely cry over spilled coffee! 😉

And yet still — I give thanks — because giving thanks always is the way to a joy-filled life — because giving thanks always is a way of “living thanksgiving” — on this rainy day & every day.

So on this rainy day:
— I give thanks for the rain because our grass, trees, flowers & garden oh-so-desperately need it. — I give thanks for my husband’s surprise gift of my favorite handcrafted latte (yes, even though it was spilled) — for this sweet gift shows his affection, kindness & love.
— I give thanks because these endless loads of laundry remind my heart of great memories we have made together as a family, of our joy & laughter all together.
— I give thanks for the linens, the towels remind my heart that we have warm beds to sleep & clean water to bathe.
— I give thanks for the dirty dishes that remind my heart we have enough heathy food to eat.
— I give for my sweet daughter’s new milestones that remind my heart that each & every new day is a gift — yes, even the chaotic, crazy, difficult, demanding days — each new day is a gift to be surprised by joy, to walk by faith, to walk in love, to give thanks — always!

So I don’t blame it on the rain. For though it may seem too simple — even the act of taking the time to write this list of reminds my heart that the LORD has filled my heart with laughter & songs of praise! Once again — the song of my heart is grateful!

In The Shadow

My 8-month-old daughter sat at my feet to ever-so-eagerly explore the color & texture of the grass at the soccer field.

Her big brother saved yet another goal with a crescent-kick from his blue-belt karate-classes & immediately smiled over at his little sister. I have seen that smile many times before — a bright & brilliant smile that lights up his entire face with joy & warmth — a smile he only smiles for her. She is his greatest love. His best girl. And she knows it! And she loves it!

So she sat at my feet with her back facing me — she could not see my face — she couldn’t see me at all. And yet — she knew I was with her. She felt my presence. She trusted my love. She was content in my shadow.

And so it is with faith.

In that moment. At a U8 soccer game. My heart was reminded of this prayer from the Psalms “because You are my refuge & strength, I will sing in the shadow of your wings.”

Simple. Yes. Undoubtedly.

Yet profound. Yes. Undeniably.

Tonight may you be content in the shadow of God’s wings. May you trust God’s faithful promise to be with you, before you, behind you, beside you *IN every circumstance* — even when you can not yet see. May you feel God’s presence. May you trust God’s love. May you be content in God’s shadow.

And may this be said of me.

“My soul will find refuge in the shadow of your wings. I will love you forever & forever I’ll sing!”

Hallelujah & Amen.

When Faith Is Fading

Tonight I received a message from a friend. And honestly even now as I sit down to write these words hours later I’m still not sure how best to respond.

The words she shared with me were words filled with heartbreak & anguish — devastating, despairing words — for there is no pain on earth like watching your child suffer. Though we are hundreds of miles apart I could feel her brokenness, her helplessness, her hopelessness.

I often respond by sharing what has most strengthened my faith —

“So I’m preaching Gospel to myself, and my restless heart is called to rejoice…

“Rejoice always — pray continually — give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

And yet somehow my own words seemed cheap & tainted.

How could I ever possibly suggest that my friend should give thanks for her children’s tragic suffering?

So I had to sit with my own words.

Sit with my own doubt.

Do I really believe these words that I say?

Do I really believe these words I have written?

How? How to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering?

How? How to pray when hope seems lost? 

How? How to sing praises when faith is fading?

Through the years I have learned — through my own journey on the road marked with long-suffering — God is faithful to be present as I wrestle with doubt — God is faithful even when my faith is fading — God is faithful.

When my song is a weary hallelujah — even when my faith falters, when my faith is fading, when there seems to be no joy in the mourning, no strength in the waiting, no hope in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & in the darkest valleys — even when I raise my clenched-fists toward heaven through tears & lament, “How long, oh LORD?” 

God has been faithful to meet me. In the mourning, in the waiting, in my wilderness wanderings, in the drought & the darkest valleys, yes even in my laments.

God has been faithful.

Every. Single. Time.

To come quiet my restless heart with love, to strengthen my faith & my song…

And THIS is how to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering. THIS is how to sing praises when faith is fading. THIS is how to pray when hope seems lost.

When I am overwhelmed with life’s ever-pressing, never-ending demands, when my anxious, hurried, worried heart knows no peace — there is no end to calm of Your voice that can speaks, “Peace, be still” to the raging storms in my heart.

When I am consumed by darkness & despair — there is no darkness that can overcome the light of Your love. There is no depth of despair beyond the reach of Your whispers of hope.

When I am on the road marked with grief, mourning, long-suffering — there is no end to Your comfort for You are well-acquainted with the darkest valley of shadows & suffering.

When I am wrestling with doubt —
there is no end to how You delight to quiet my restless heart with your love that knows no end.

When I can not see how You are working all things together for my good — there is no end to Your promise to strengthen my faith to hope in what I can not yet see.

God, You are faithful — even when my faith is fading! You are faithful, God, forever! Hallelujah & Amen.

“So I’m preaching Gospel to myself, and my restless heart is called to rejoice…

“Rejoice always — pray continually — give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I give thanks *not for every circumstance,* but for God’s faithful promise to be with me, before me, behind me, beside me *IN every circumstance!*

THIS is how to give thanks in the desert places of wilderness wandering. The LORD is faithful to be with me in the wilderness! THIS is how to sing praises when faith is fading. The LORD is my strength & my song! THIS is how to pray when hope seems lost. The LORD is Hope holding onto me as an anchor for my soul! So I will choose to sing “even so it is well with my soul!” The LORD has filled my heart with laughter & songs of praise!

A Letter To The Church: Take Heart

There are many articles circulating these days that analyze the changing religious landscape in America — analyze the Church. There are articles that posit why one denomination is better than the other — why one denomination thrives & another struggles to strive — why millennials are *really* leaving the Church. This is not one of those articles.

There are articles aplenty critiquing the Church & our failings. And there is credibility, even a need, for us to hear those words as the Church — to be reminded how to press on to live out our calling as those who belong to God & each other to serve others as we seek to always love mercy, seek justice, walk humbly with God, to walk by faith, to walk in love. This is not one of those articles.

This is a letter to the Church.

Dear Church. Take heart.

The New Testament does not refer to the church as a building. Not once.

The Greek word is ἐκκλησία/ekklésia meaning “those called out by God/those called together/called to each other” from the root word /kaléō, “to call.”

We are a called people.

First — we are called by God.

There are seasons in the Church where we may feel discouraged, defeated, disheartened. I know, believe me, I know it’s exhausting & fatiguing to be hard-pressed on every side. I know, believe me, I know — it’s hard to trust in the promise of what we can not yet see.

There are depths of grief, mourning, loss, loneliness, suffering. There are battles waged on our knees in prayer raising our voices to the LORD & with our feet standing arm-in-arm, side-by-side raising our voices against injustice, oppression, violence. There are places where we wrestle with doubt, despair, anger — struggling ever-so-desperately to find purpose, reason, meaning.

Where faith falters. Where fear wins. Where there is no joy in the mourning. No strength in the waiting. No hope in the wilderness. In the drought. In the darkest valleys. When we raise our clenched-fists toward heaven — even through tears & lament, “How long, oh LORD?”

And yet — when we stand together arm-in-arm, side-by-side, lifting each other up when we grow weary — we must say to one another, “take heart.” And we must declare to one another this promise of God to strengthen our faith —

“Let us press on to know the LORD. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the rains, like the spring rain that waters the earth.” [Hosea 6:3]

When we rise to face a new day — even in seasons of drought, desert wandering & wilderness waiting — we rise to give thanks! We press on to know the LORD in faith.

Because as we stand together arm-in-arm, side-by-side — we stand on promise & purpose of our calling — that * we are a chosen people, a called people that we may declare the praises of God who called us up from the ashes & out of darkness into light, to life. [From 1 Peter 2:9]

Dear Church. Take heart.

For we are called by God.

AND we are called together. 

Yes, we are called together to be the Church. Arm-in-arm, side-by-side. Together we are the Church.

In her most recent book Rachel Held Evans described the Church as follows —

“Jesus said his Father’s house has many rooms. In this metaphor, I like to imagine the Presbyterians hanging out in the library, the Baptists running the kitchen, the Anglicans setting the table, the Anabaptists washing feet with the hose in the backyard, the Lutherans making liturgy for the laundry, the Methodists stoking the fire in the hearth, the Catholics keeping the family history, the Pentecostals throwing open all the windows and doors to let more people in.”

So you see, my friends — remembering that we do not go to Church — we ARE the Church — the Church is where * two or three are gathered in Jesus’ Name.

We ARE the Church — whenever, wherever we gather together in Jesus’ Name!

So when we gather as the Church for prayer over a handcrafted latte, freshly-brewed coffee or whole-leaf tea in the coffee shop —

when we are found sharing a made-from-scratch, made-with-love in the warmth of a home where love & laughter abound gathered together at the table —

when we gather together to meet in a cafeteria, gymnasium, even movie theater & lift our hands as we dance & sing in the Presence of the LORD —

when we gather together standing arm-in-arm, side-by-side seeking justice for the marginalized & the oppressed —

when we gather together standing in a breathtakingly beautiful chapel with brilliant light streaming through the stained-glass windows & tears of joy streaming down our faces — with our voices raised in faith-filled anthems of hope — we ARE the Church.

Called by God. Called together. And we rejoice together as we declare in faith one to another — Do not grow weary. Take heart.

Yes. How we need those words to inspire our hearts as we walk in faith, in love, on the hard-pressed path of ministry to the broken, the hurting & wounding — offering comfort, faith, hope & love to the Church, to the world.

Dear Church. Take heart. 

And do not grow weary. For the LORD does not grow weary in love — He is faithful to love you, to love me, to love us, His bride, His Church — with love that is patient, kind, not easily angered, love that does not keep a record of wrongs — with Love that comes beside us in the midst of our failings & mistakes, love that comes beside us in the face of our greatest obstacles to cheer on & encourage, to celebrate & rejoice in the growing, learning, trying but not yet quite succeeding — to lift us up when we fall, when we fail, when we are weary, when we face the difficult, demanding road ahead.

Dear Church. Take heart.

And as we rest & rejoice in God’s love that does not grow weary — let us not grow weary as we walk by faith & walk in love. Love for the other. Love for the stranger. Love for our neighbor. Love for one another. Yes, we are called by God to be the Church. Together. As people who walk humbly, walk in faith, walk in love.
The greatest commandment is love.

The greatest of these is love.

All that remains is love.

The longer I walk humbly with God, the more certain I am that to walk in the way of one who belongs to Jesus is to walk by faith & walk in love. Radical, whole-hearted love — without judgement, without measure, without conditions. Love that is rich in grace, kindness & forgiveness. Love that is sacrificial & selfless. The way that God loves the Church. The way that God loves the world.

Dear Church. Take Heart. Walk On.

*** I took the photograph of the stained glass window at Princeton University’s chapel on the day I graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary with my MDiv — standing together arm-in-arm, side-by-side with my colleagues & friends called by God, called together, called to serve the Church & the world. Words can not express the hope & joy that fills my heart every time I am reminded of that day. Thanks be to God.