Faith

Today is Lent.

I’ve written before about how I didn’t really grow up with a Lent tradition in my church.

But in my current church, it is a centerpiece. And I am learning so much.

There are years I have given up (sugar, alcohol…), and years I have given back, and last year I don’t think I did anything.

This year, I talked to the kids about it. What the season means and where we should focus. From dust we were born, and to dust we shall return.

A season acknowledging our humanness and seeking repentance and finding our way to the Resurrection.

As we talked last night, we talked about the places we needed to sacrifice to make more room for God’s work in our life. It wasn’t a deep and profound conversation. It was done in fits and spurts as kids darted and interrupted but we got to the main points.

The main point is one I was reminded of in a blog post by Ann Voskamp yesterday: There’s a giving up that only gains. There’s a sacrifice that only fulfills… When we know we are but dust, when our hearts have been crushed – is exactly when we are meant to entrust all into the hands of the Potter, so He can remake all to be more like Christ... Give up, whatever you need, to hear God speak.

What did we need to give up to hear God speak? What am I giving up to know God more?

This is where I believe we arrived. I am going to give up yelling, or try really hard. This is a struggle I grew into after I had kids. I never yelled until I became a parent. I didn’t lose my temper. I stuffed. But now, I yell. I grew up with a yelling parent and I really want to do it differently.

The eldest is going to give up yelling too. Because when a parent yells, a lot of times the kids yell too. The youngest, who originally was going to sign up for the same thing, has decided instead to give up t.v. This is huge because he is absolutely my t.v. addict. Little bit has not said what she is focusing on yet.

So, to slightly incentivize (and remind us), we are going to have four glass jars on the kitchen table. They will start with five one dollar bills in them. You flip on the t.v. or yell or whatever it is, you have to pay one of your dollars in your jar (and you’ll receive them based on when others forget about this season’s sacrifice). We’ll see how it works.

Granted, the money is a less spiritual aspect, but I’m hoping it will hold us accountable.

And in the giving up, we’re going to have to lean heavy on Jesus because I can tell you right now I can’t do this alone. None of us can give up part of our sin and self without a massive dose of God-strength.

The good news: He’ll give to all who ask.

So here’s to trying, not in our strength, but trying in His strength and to grow more like Him in the giving up of ourselves: Your strength will not get it done… Your power will not do it either. Only the power of my Spirit will do it,’ says the Lord who rules over all. (Zech. 4:6)

I’ve written a lot in 2020 about rest. Stillness. Quiet.

But I was struck by something when sitting in my car waiting to go into my friend’s church yesterday morning. There, in front of me, was a building emblazoned with “Rest, Relax, Restore.”

It was a spa.

Now, I’m a big fan of spas. I’m sure I’ve written several blog posts from my favorite one in Houston.

But what truly is rest? And do you actually leave transformed after a massage? That was the juxtaposition I sat with there in my car.

I had also just received my morning devotional from Christine Caine entitled The Promise of God’s Rest. It’s probably why the sign struck me. Caine referenced Hebrews 4 and the SIX references made to rest in the first 11 verses of that chapter. In part, Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience…

It got me thinking about the ultimate purpose of rest.

In a culture that is rushing around like crazy, unable to do all the things we have on our to do list (I know, I’m chief among them), we’re craving rest. An extra hour to sleep in. A weekend retreat. A massage.

But that will not bring us deeply restorative soul rest.

It’s a bandaid over a gaping wound.

What we need is soul rest. The rest that only God can provide. God’s rest gives us a deep peace and healing.

And not rest for rest’s sake. Rest that compels us, propels us, to do His work that He’s preordained for us.

The verse in Hebrews 4 right after the 11 verses on rest? For the word of God is active and alive. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit…

It’s action. Rest gives us what we need to act. Because we were not created to sleep in and get massages. We were created to do His work. Reflect His glory. Shine His light. Go into all the world.

That’s exhausting work. Pushing back darkness results in some rough battlefields. Which is why He calls us to rest. But to rest IN HIM. And then to go. To act. To change the world.

Sundays have long been a day when I cook.

Some Sundays, I perform better than others.

This Sunday, with my kids on a quick trip away with Bray to the farm, I had big plans. I grocery-shopped early this morning with recipes in hand for this week’s menu for our family and for others.

I rarely have time to make more than two meals because of kid interference, but without interruption I was confident I could make progress.

In addition to the meals for our week, which is shaping up to be very busy, I wanted to deliver meals to a couple of other families who have had their hands full.

I don’t know if this is a result of living in the south or growing up in a preacher’s family, but I like to cook for people who could use some relief. After a baby comes or a divorce hits or during an illness or after a death, a meal is the only thing I feel like I can actually do. It was like that after the hurricane. I couldn’t take away all the loss and destruction, but I could feed people.

I need to do.

Here’s where this story goes down a little side trail, so hang with me.

Recently, my best friend started figuring out her Enneagram number which led me to investigate mine. None of the tests out there gave me the same result, but the best I could tell I was a Number 3.

After reading the description, this made some sense to me. The Achiever. Driven, success-oriented, image conscious. I think of this number as sort of the worst one you can get. And because I have struggled with pride for probably as long as I can remember character struggles, this assesment resonated. In my mind, being driven and struggling with pride meant I was selfish.

As I read on, each Enneagram type apparently has a “wing.” That is, as they explain: Your wing complements your primary type and adds important, sometimes contradictory, elements to your total personality. Your wing is your ‘second side’ of your personality.

No matter how I tested, Number 2 kept coming out as my wing. Now that one is The Helper. That person is generous. I couldn’t quite marry that type with how I saw the selfish part of myself.

Then, a few weeks ago, little bit and I were driving to one of my friend’s house to deliver a meal since she’d recently had her first baby. Little bit looked over at me and said, mommy, you’re always thinking about everyone else before yourself.

I cracked. While I held it together in that moment, when I was retelling the story to my best friend, I just cried. It’s like I got a glimpse of the good that God sees that I can’t see because my weaknesses block my view of the good. I told her, of course I’m a Wing 2, why am I having such a hard time with that? I love to help people. I love to volunteer to host parties for new kids at the school and take people meals and make sure teachers who are divorced get flowers and show up to organize clothes or food pantries.

I visited a church this morning where a dear friend of mine preached the service. A powerful message on our “origin story” – we are God’s beloved and we were made to be loved (and love others). She explained that so often all these negative messages we’ve gotten over the course of our lives drown out the message of our true worth and meaning. We can’t see our true value and God given purpose because we only see our weaknesses and failures.

Yes. All of that.

So what does all this have to do with my Sunday cooking?

I looked at these two extra pans of food. It took no real extra effort. I just made double batches of enchiladas and tetrazzini. Those pans reminded me of the goodness that God placed inside of me. The desire I have had, for basically ever, to help.

I can recognize that without any harmful pride, of which I still have plenty in other areas of my life. This is not a boast but a recognition of His grace in me. A tiny little way He allows me to love others since He has so lavishly loved me.

Their band sang a song with a refrain that says, I give myself away. I give myself away, so You can use me. I played it on repeat today as I cooked. We give ourselves away to be used by God. In whatever small ways we can find.

For whatever baggage there might be out there about women and kitchens, I sure found a lot of freedom in mine today.

At a retreat I attended yesterday, one of the leaders opened with a devotional from Nehemiah 1.

Nehemiah is a book in the Old Testament of the Bible that I’ve been fascinated with for years. He’s this classic example in Christian literature of the spiritual gift of leadership.

But as much as I’ve dug into portions of the book of Nehemiah, there’s always been some of it I’ve skipped over.

The devotional renewed my interest in this book. So last night, I started reading further in.

I was stopped cold by Chapter 3.

I couldn’t stop reading it.

If you’re not familiar with the story, Nehemiah is this Jewish guy in exile from Jerusalem who has made it all the way up in the Gentile king’s senior leadership. He hears Jerusalem is totally broken and burned, so he bravely asks the king if he can go back to his city and his people and rebuild (and amazingly the king lets him).

That’s where the story picks up in Chapter 3.

This is what struck me:
v. 2 – The men of Jericho built the adjoining section, and Zakkur son of Imri built next to them.
v. 4 – Meremoth son of Uriah… repaired the next section. Next to him Meshullam son of Berekiah… made repairs, and next to him Zadok …also made repairs. 
v. 11 – Malkijah and Hasshub… repaired another section and the Tower of the Ovens. Shallum son of Hallohesh, ruler of a half-district of Jerusalem, repaired the next section with the help of his daughters.
v. 17 – Next to him, the repairs were made by the Levites … Beside him, Hashabiah, ruler of half the district of Keilah, carried out repairs for his district.  Next to him, the repairs were made…

Do you see it?

Does that knock you over?

And that’s not the whole chapter! “Next to” is said OVER TWENTY TIMES!

All these different people from different tribes and people came together to rebuild. Group A? RIGHT NEXT TO Group R! Team 12? BESIDE Team 423!

Working right next to each other to rebuild God’s city.

What if modern Christianity looked like this?

What if we were writing about Modern-Day Prophet X’s call for rebuilding crumbling cities and people and families and faith?
v. 1 – Next to her, the repairs were made by the Catholics…
v. 2 – Beside him, the Protestants carried out repairs for his district…
v. 3 – The Democrats carried out the repairs on the next section, and next to them the Republicans also made repairs.
v. 4 – The Fountain Gate was repaired by those from Mexico, and next to them the Egyptians also repaired the wall by the King’s Garden, and beyond them, the Russians made repairs up to a point opposite the tombs. Beside them the Nigerians worked on the point facing the armory and next to them the Californians and Texans zealously repaired another section.

Wow.

Can you see it?

I can envision it. I want so deeply.

It doesn’t say everyone came together and agreed on everything forever after. PLUS, it says people wanted to kill them for doing it. So much so that the rebuilders had to split so that half of them could guard those doing the building and then they could swap. (Chapter 4’s premise is “Opposition to Rebuilding!” And Chapter 6? “Further Opposition!”)

The act of restoration and rebuilding does not come easily. Or cheaply. It most certainly does not come without significant opposition. But there’s a blueprint in the book of Nehemiah that it can come.

And y’all, I can barely type it without crying, in Chapter 7, “after the wall had been rebuilt,” there is a LIST of the exiles who returned. Read it. “These are the people of the province who came up from the captivity of the exiles whom Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon had taken captive…” and then there is an actual list with actual numbers of the people from the different families who returned along with the priests and temple servants.

After the hard and painful and severely opposed work of rebuilding was done, the exiles returned from captivity.

If this is not the picture the church universal should be working their fingers to the bone to achieve, then I don’t know what is.

This is the example of rebuilding we must follow. They came home. They confessed. They sealed a covenant.
Stand up and praise the Lord your God, who is from everlasting to everlasting. Blessed be your glorious name, and may it be exalted above all blessing and praise. You alone are the Lord.

Today, I led my monthly Monday work bible study for the last time.

A co-worker asked me to start a group four and a half years ago. I agreed, reluctantly.

My first week of Bible Study, October 2015, was the week after my husband lost his job.

My, what a four and a half years these have been.

The kids have changed schools. Both Bray and I have changed the kinds of day jobs we have. We’ve had health scares and vacations and remodels. Grief and joy. Suffering and laughter.

I went back and reread my first few bible study notes. Each month, I taught about a miracle. I wrote down the scripture text and then wrote down all my research and thoughts on those topics.

The first miracle I taught on was 2 Kings 4, The Shunamite Woman, still one of my favorites of all time.

The next one was from 2 Kings 6, where a lost axehead floats.

Then came the passage from 1 Kings 19, where Elijah flees in exhaustion and terror after performing the biggest miracle of his life on Mount Carmel. (I love me some Kings…)

As I was rereading my notes, I saw a theme from these beautiful miracles emerge. I didn’t even know it was a theme when I was teaching this in the fall of 2015. But I can see it now. And how God must have been weaving that message into my soul then when I need to know this truth so badly.

Run to God.

Always run to God.

Run to Him in your desperation. Run to him in your fear or your worry or your terror or your panic or your stress. He can take whatever emotion you throw at him – anger, depression, loneliness, grief.

They all came to Him in desperation. A mother after losing her son. A worker after losing his means to work. A prophet facing exhaustion and possible death.

Don’t let anything distract you. Don’t let social media or work or even friends divert you from your one true path to Him.

Lay whatever it is in front of Him.

Then watch what He can do.

A breath (2 Kings 4:34).

A stick (2 Kings 6:6).

A whisper (1 Kings 19:12).

Nothing is too far gone.

I didn’t expect to, but I cried through most of my study today. Gracious and encouraging co-workers who have become friends passed me tissues and prayed over me. It can be a little overwhelming to reflect on how God has worked so miraculously in your life over the years. And it can be a little overwhelming to lay something important down to make room for the next thing God needs to do.

I am so grateful to have had this opportunity to join a community who basically learned right along with me as God convicted me with scripture and I shared what He was teaching me.

It’s always powerful to remember what He can do. With so very little. He cares about the big and the small in your life. And nothing is too far gone.