Tag: meeting god in the mess

When you need to walk on water in the middle of crashing waves

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Matthew 14:22-33 NIV
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.  Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. 
But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.  But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”  Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” 
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

 

I have mixed feelings about this story.

If I had designed these events as a reflection of my own heart, things would have gone a little differently…

The beautiful and captivating story of Peter walking on water, the redemptive story of my own life, the exquisite story of all of creation…  If these were written as a reflection of my own anxious heart, they would be written through the lens of pain avoidance rather than redemption, self-sufficiency rather than dependence, comfort and ease rather than faith, perfection rather than sanctification, quick answers rather than perseverance that builds character and character that builds hope. 

The Jesus made in my own image would have calmed the storm before he invited Peter to Come.  He wouldn’t have let it hurt.  He would have kept it neat and tidy.  Jesus would have made His command to “Take courage” nice and easy, because He would have silenced the waves and thunder, preemptively.

But God, in His great mercy, made me in His image instead – not the other way around.  God in His infinite wisdom, orchestrated the events of this passage of scripture, in this particular way.  And you and I both know that a story in which the miracle happens while the wind is still blowing and the waves are still crashing, is a whole lot more relevant to our real lives.

I want to walk on water to Jesus, don’t you?  I want to be brave.  I long to have adventures with the Lord, to co-labor with Him, and be called into supernatural places.  But before I step out of the boat, I’d prefer sunny skies and calm waters and life vests, and a well-established Plan B.  

It’s easy to be courageous in calm waters.  It’s easy to trust Jesus when things are easy and predictable.  But we learn what our faith is made of when the skies grow dark and the waters get a little rocky.  We learn to trust Jesus when we answer His invitation to lock eyes and Come, right in the middle of the storm.   

I’m beginning to see that we can’t wait until life pauses to figure out how to walk with the Lord.  Marriage and motherhood have made life more raw, more vulnerable, and the pauses more rare.  Nothing feels easy and predictable when these precious pieces of my heart are running around this scary world of ours.

This parenting journey has stripped off all of the nice churchy things I used to wear, and held a mirror to my heart.  It has revealed the places of my heart that have been fortified in truth, and the places where my heart is still a little squishy and lukewarm.  Motherhood has revealed the ways I’m walking in the truth of my new, empowered, victorious identity in Christ and the ways I’m still walking with a limp. (2 Corinthians 5: 17)

The things that spill out of me when I’m sleep deprived or disrespected are the very places in my heart where I need a holy healing touch from our Living God.  I’m beginning to see that we cannot build a life of faith when we only walk with Jesus in calm waters.  If we are going to walk in God’s promises, we need more than Sunday mornings and quiet times.  We need a real God with reckless love who speaks into the middle of our messy lives, in real time.  And that is the God we have.  Hallelujah!

When my home feels loud and busy and chaotic, I can’t always get away to be alone with the Lord.

You too, mama?

I’m beginning to look for the eyes of Jesus right in the middle of the noise, and ask Him if I can Come.  He steadies me and lets me walk right on top of the raging waves.

Hear me…I believe in drawing away to be alone with the Lord, and I seek to do it every. single. day.  But I am learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to Him, on the days when I didn’t get to have an idyllic quiet time with morning dew and chirping birds.  God meant for his promises to stand when we were still waiting for a chance to go to the mountaintop.

I’m learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to Him, while five little people need five different things… when I don’t know if it’s going to be ok… when I’m confused and uncertain… and when this mama actually has no earthly idea what is best.   I am learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to him on the days when I did everything wrong.  I am learning to cry out to him to save me, right after my faith has been weak.

Maybe you have made the same observation about parenting that I have.  It never stops.  It just keeps coming, and each new day has new challenges, new uncertainties, new things you’ve never done before, conversations you’ve never had before.  If we wait until it all calms down to learn to walk with Jesus, we might miss our opportunity to rest in him when we really need him.  And we might miss our chance to raise children who walk on water.  

Needing Jesus this way…this is holy ground, sweet friends.

Jesus did not say “Take courage.  There is no storm.”

He did not say “Take courage.  It will be over soon.”

He said “Take courage.  It is I.”

The reason for our courage cannot be the absence of difficulty, but the presence of Christ.  

Like Peter, when we look at the wind and the waves, we become afraid.  If I look upon one of my children and imagine all of the ways things could go wrong, I start to sink beneath the water, right then and there.  My fear writes the story, and I can’t think of anything to say in their broken moment except the things my sweet ones are doing wrong.  But when I look at the eyes of Jesus, I can see with new eyes.  The waves are in my peripheral vision – their power insignificant in light of the power of Christ.

When I lock eyes with Jesus, I see my loved ones through God’s eyes.  I see with hope for breakthrough and healing and miracles.  I see with endless possibility.  Shortcomings fall into the shadow of the glorious love of God through the blood of Christ.

When the things we see with our eyes make us feel like treading water is the very best we could hope for, with an ominous sense that we will only last a few moments more, we can lock eyes with Jesus.  He invites us to walk right on top of the disappointments, the fears, the unfulfilled dreams, the uncertain futures.  He invites us to dance in worship to the drumming beat of thunder, with the sway of the mighty wind, and the beat of the pounding waves of the most chaotic and difficult days.

We lock eyes with the God of the Most High and we become like David, who looks on his companions, trembling in fear of the giant before them and says “…Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (1 Samuel 17:26)

When we know who is for us, we fear not that which is against us. 

Sister, whatever waves you are facing today in your home, lift your eyes from the challenges, the inadequacies, the uncertainties, to meet the tender-loving eyes of Christ.  Hold within your gaze the truth of God’s power and might, the truth of His fatherly love and his endless mercy, the truth of His sovereignty and everlasting kindness.

Although the frothy ripples of your unique sea of circumstances may still clap against your feet, you will be empowered by the presence of Christ to walk above the fray.  

Why your children really need you to be imperfect

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Version 2

Ephesians 2: 8-9 For by grace you have been saved, through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

This day after Easter has me so deeply grateful for a Savior who reached out to save us, right smack in the middle of our mess… a Christ who went to the cross saying “Forgive them.”

I’m awestruck with the goodness and mercy of Jesus, who knew how we would think we know better.  He knew we would try to take matters into our own hands.  He knew our weakness, and He loved us first.  Jesus took on all of our brokenness and self-reliance and outright rebellion, just because he wanted to be with us forever.  Hallelujah!

But this day after Easter also has me thinking it tragic how many of us moms in Christ seem to leave all of this freedom at the door of our homes.

Maybe we walk in freedom at church, at work, in friendships, in ministry, but with our children, we writhe in guilt and carry all the weight of our own brokenness solidly on our own shoulders.

Can you relate?

The pressure to be a “good mom” is enough to squeeze all of the freedom right out of parenting.

Continue reading “Why your children really need you to be imperfect” →

How to see the radical love of God in absolutely everything

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Version 3

My firm expectation that life was generally supposed to be awesome, was only mildly muddied by the bumps I faced, in my younger years.  I predominantly maintained the philosophy that heartbreak, uncertainty, angst, and grief were the exception.  And that life was “supposed” to mostly feel good.

I thought the goal was to remove the obstacles, be always moving towards settling the disquietude, solving the problem, removing the pain, learning the lesson as quickly as possible, so I could do better.  Be better.  Fail less.  Hurt less.

And when I became a mom, I thought motherhood was “supposed” to feel amazing almost all of the time, too.  I was always thinking about how to remove or repair the things standing in the way of experiencing motherhood as mostly fun and wonderful.

The wheels of my mind spun with new answers and things I had read, formulas and systems and solutions to fix myself and my children and my home right up into the perfect versions I thought they should be.

Continue reading “How to see the radical love of God in absolutely everything” →

How to live motherhood like a dance of worship

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This guy has already learned one of my best “dance” moves.  He doesn’t let us leave the house without sweeping the floor.  🙂

Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouts and the sound of trumpets.  As the ark of the Lord was entering the City of David, Michal daughter of Saul watched from a window. And when she saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, she despised him in her heart.

They brought the ark of the Lord and set it in its place inside the tent that David had pitched for it, and David sacrificed burnt offerings and fellowship offerings before the Lord. After he had finished sacrificing the burnt offerings and fellowship offerings, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord Almighty… When David returned home to bless his household, Michal daughter of Saul came out to meet him and said, “How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, going around half-naked in full view of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!”

David said to Michal, “It was before the Lord, who chose me rather than your father or anyone from his house when he appointed me ruler over the Lord’s people Israel—I will celebrate before the Lord. I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes. But by these slave girls you spoke of, I will be held in honor.”

2 Samuel 6: 14-22

In these days as a mom of little ones, packed with these mostly invisible and seemingly insignificant moments, folding shirts and sitting in waiting rooms and midnight snuggles, packing lunches and carpool lines, tripping over toys and tripping over words that I can’t seem to make come out of my mouth as sweetly as I thought they would.

It is an abundant and blessed season, but full of these unseen and unappealing things that can leave a mama feeling lonely, isolated, discouraged.

All the things we must do – the long lists, the piled-high messes, the endless chores and the discipline failures – can cast a giant shadow over the purpose, the joy, the blessings of raising children.  I can find myself wondering if I’ll just be another little old lady in the grocery store saying “Soak up every minute.  You’ll blink and you’ll miss it!”

How do we hold in one mind the tremendous gift and privilege, and the weariness and struggle?  How do we hold in one heart the immense delights and the hopes for beautiful futures and generations, and the dreams we fear died the day we brought that baby home?  How do we lift these same eyes to the heavens, when we can barely keep them open to drive our kids to school?  How do we bend the same knees before the throne of grace that are working so hard to keep standing?

Several years ago, I walked through a season of being stripped raw by exhaustion, by failure, by weakness, by my constant awareness of my brokenness, and feelings of inadequacy about what God has given me.  We had a newborn baby, and my husband was traveling for work.  It was a year full of trips to the ER, sickness and asthma and injuries, trials in our marriage, friends moving away.  I was facing fears about not being able to control our circumstances, protect my children, my marriage, my friendships, or even my own image and identity.

Everything I had once felt competent at felt like it was slipping away.  I went from an organized, always on time, fairly dependable person to always late, never returning phone calls, snapping at my kids, forgetting friends’ birthdays, and living in a house that mostly existed in that ‘state of emergency’ kind of mess.

My sense of identity crumbled, and my ideas about how my faith should sustain me seemed to be failing me.

Though I had walked with Christ for many years, as real life was happening, I came up empty. I found myself writhing with worry, fear, self-doubt, loneliness, discouragement, hopelessness.

I knew that God can grant me a peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4: 6-7), so why was I writhing with worry and fear? 

I knew that the God of hope can fill me with all joy and peace, overflowing with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13) , so why was I so miserable and hopeless?

I knew God could renew my strength like the eagle and make me to run and not grow weary, so why did I feel so depleted all the time? (Isaiah 40: 31)

I knew that it is for freedom that Christ has set us free (Galatians 5: 1), so why did I feel so chained up and with insecurity and self-doubt? 

I knew that His divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness (2 Peter 1: 3), so why did I feel completely inadequate and ill-equipped? 

I knew that God is faithful to forgive our sins (1 John 1: 9), so why was I drowning in a sea of shame and guilt?

All the promises of God’s word felt elusive, and my faith felt thin, and I felt bitterness creeping up in me about how my life was slipping away behind my family.

In this season, I desperately needed God to be real for the real moments of my days.  I desperately needed the promises of scripture to be true.  But I couldn’t escape the cyclical rhythms of waking and sleeping and feeding and clothing and bathing and comforting and shepherding.

It seemed that all the moments of my day were accounted for, and I couldn’t imagine discovering the margin to rediscover God.

And so, right smack in the middle of my crazy, I began a journey with a mustard seed of faith to simply CALL the Lord the things I was struggling to believe He was.  To ascribe to the Lord his beauty and worth. To tell God what I knew to be true of him and simply dare to wonder that the power of it might be able to infuse my life that wouldn’t seem to slow down for thorough theological study or lengthy silent prayer or long journal entries.

I needed faith with skin on.

Like David throughout the Psalms, I began to tell my own soul to stop feeling so sorry for itself and get up and praise. And something broke in me.

Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.  Psalm 103:2 

Lord, your grace IS sufficient. 

God, your power IS made perfect in my weakness. 

Father, you ARE strong and mighty.

You ARE the protector, defender, the counselor, the King.  

God, you ARE so good.

This became my dance.  What I was desperate for him to be in real life I began to simply tell Him (and my own soul) that He Is.  I began to offer up a sacrifice of praise.  (Hebrews 13: 15).

When our hearts are postured in praise, the magnitude of God and his character of mercy and grace begin to shrink our worry, our fear, the size of our needs and requests.

I began to have eyes for all of life as worship.  Everything we have to give away, everything we can pour out, every moment when we have no idea what to do, or what God is doing, or whether we are going to make it through…that everything is an invitation to worship.

When I was weak, I began to lay my ounce of energy on the alter before him, to pour it out with joy and watch Him renew me.  When my schedule felt overwhelming, and I felt like too much of a mess, I began to let others come in the door, just to see what God might do.  When I felt I had nothing to offer, I said “yes” to teach or lead or serve, not out of obligation, but as a proclamation of faith to God and my own heart, that He could use even broken mess of me.

Our praise, our gift, is not about the amount, the outward beauty, or the obvious value.  It’s about the posture of our hearts.

It’s about self-sacrifice.

It can’t be done in a way that keeps us in tact and protects our sense of control, but in a breaking open and pouring out.  Like the woman who broke the alabaster jar at Jesus’ feet…Like David shamelessly dancing before the Lord… Like Abraham placing Isaac on the alter…

True praise and adoration requires us to break wide open too.

In this season I began to see that I could spill myself out in adoration to God and that my little offerings could be priceless to the eyes of my King.  I began to feel as though I was being pulled close into a sacred secret romance with him, connected to his heart in my invisible service, my invisible dance of worship.

In 2 Samuel 24: 24 we read the words of David, a man after God’s own heart, “I will not offer burnt-offerings to the Lord my God that cost me nothing.”

Something shifts in us when our giving, our praise, costs us something, when we offer it up not just as a happy Sunday morning refrain, but as a pouring out of a broken soul in a sometimes painful declaration of faith:  “You, O God, you are who you say you are.”

When I feel God got it all wrong, I proclaim that He is good. When I am empty and failing, I proclaim that His power is made perfect in my weakness.  When I feel weak, I proclaim He is strong.  When I can’t hear His voice, I proclaim that He is the God who loves to speak tenderly to his children, in hopeful expectancy.

The pouring out of our lives, our comfort, our sleep, our work, our energy, our tenderness…is an act of faith that proclaims that we believe God is a worthy recipient of our whole selves.  In all the little things, all the in between moments, in all the mundane that threatens our joy…a habit of adoration is transforming the way I see everything.

Poured out in secret places, we are invited deeper into the heart of God.  And it can all begin to feel like a dance of worship – from diapers, to emails, to late night chats, to business meetings, to carpool drives up and down the same road a hundred times a week, and everything in between.  My hands dance in praise in the scrub of the pan, or the stroke of a child’s face who has just made a poor choice.  My lips dance in praise as I choose gentle words, and as I proclaim God’s goodness, whether or not I feel it.

When we break open and lay it all down before the Lord in praise, we are free to dance.

Romans 12: 1 I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.