to sit at the throne with friends

I came across an interesting segment in Henri Nouwen’s book, “Life of the Beloved.” Here is what it says:

“I have been cared for by many people with much tenderness and gentleness. I have been taught and instructed with much patience and perseverance. I have been encouraged to keep going when I was ready to give up and was stimulated to try again when I failed. I have been rewarded and praised for success…but, somehow, all of these signs of love were not sufficient to convince me that I was the Beloved [of God]…"

These people were, however, the one's who directed me to the One who could, and did, convince me—God Himself.

I would not hesitate to say that most of us have stumbled upon one of those people who carry a “savior complex” and insist that they have the insight and answers to everyone else’s problems (I almost married one). They buck ownership for their own faults by parading the weaknesses of others and smothering those around them in their self-righteousness and their own self-labeled “perfection.” If you’ve ever found yourself tangled up with one of these people, you probably ended up exhausted, weary, and not liking yourself very much. I did.

And then God “brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” (Psalm 18:19). He brought me into relationships like the ones Nouwen speaks of—a place where I can breathe, where I am free to be who God created me to be, and where I am able to love with everything inside of me. As I think about what makes these relationships so special, I realize that these are the people who point me to God. Not to perfection. Not to a pre-conceived ideal. The relationships that pull the most weight in my life, the ones that touch me so deeply, are the relationships I have with people who care less about their concern for me than GOD’S concern for me. They don’t take it upon themselves to be my “savior,” and in turn, I am not expected to be my own (or theirs). When I have been lost, they have taken my hand and tenderly led me to the throne of God. And they sit with me there.

So, to those of you who sit with me…Thank You. There is no other place I’d rather be than at God’s feet with you.

headlights

I was out on the town during a recent “girls night out,” and, in the car, I found myself saying, “Do you every feel like your headlights aren’t on?” We were sitting at a stoplight, and the beams of the headlights directly across the intersection were glaring right into my eyes. They seemed so bright, and for a moment, I was surprised that everyone else’s headlights were working at such a better capacity than ours.

The reality of the situation was that our headlights were working just fine, and they were probably just as bright as everyone else’s—it’s just that I was seeing ours from behind, and not head on. Kind of like a flashlight—it seems a lot brighter when someone points it right in your face rather than pointing the light away from you to illuminate your surroundings.

Sometimes I blind myself by staring down everyone else’s “headlights,” or the direction they seem to have in their lives. Have you ever noticed the times when it seems like everyone in the world has it made, and we are the only ones fraught to figure out the pieces of life—tossing around the questions of family, career, education, relationships. How often do we begin to panic when we steal a glance dead on into the lives of others, thinking we’re the only ones who don’t have everything “figured out” yet? Flustered and unsettled, we scurry about thinking our lights just aren’t bright enough. Maybe I’m the only one, but I have been guilty of double-checking to see if my “headlights” are working.

I would be lying to say I didn’t want to know what is ahead of me. Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I like to know what to expect. It sure does make this whole “trusting in God” thing interesting! As soon as I think I know where I’m headed, a sharp curve comes that I couldn’t have seen, even with the high-beams on. The beauty of it all is that even with the limited visibility and sharp turns, there is such a peace that comes with following God. And the destinations he takes me to are more wonderful than anyplace I could have directed myself to (believe me, I’ve tried). The light that God shines on my path is just for me—no matter how bright or dim it looks to anyone else—it is just enough to illuminate the path HE has for me… Much more, and I may go wondering down other paths. God knows I’ve done that before. It is a path of trust, and one we can only walk if we shed our panicked attachment to the high-beams.

in a flash

I was driving home late tonight in the middle of one of the most amazing storms I have seen in quite some time (I love storms!). The lightning was spectacular. Huge raindrops were beating against my windshield and the road had that slick, wet glisten on it that makes it hard to see when it rains at night. But I didn’t mind driving slow—I was enjoying the lightning.

The lightning made me think about God, about how he shows up in our lives sometimes. As I watched the jet black sky abruptly being lit up by bolts of electricity, I remembered all of the times that God has broken into my world—completely out of nowhere, when everything was dark and the rains poured all around me—unannounced, He was there.

With God, things have the potential to turn around in an instant. As I heard one pastor put it on Sunday, “Trusting in God changes all the possibilities.” I have come to realize that I never know just when an answer to my prayers is going to come. Time and time again, God sweeps in and lights up my world without any warning.

My life has had a lot of unexpected but exciting changes during the last month or so—many steps of faith and much waiting—but with every change, God has been right there, sending His flashes of light to illuminate my path. Such is the life of faith, I suppose—learning when we are to take steps of faith into the darkness, and when to be confident enough in God to stand still right where we are and wait for Him to shed His light.

That's the beauty of darkness... The moment we least expect it could be the moment God is about to break into our world.

freedom found me

As I prepare for an evening of fun on this 4th of July holiday, I can’t help but think about the freedom I have found in my own life. I am so glad that I celebrate and step into new realms of freedom more than once a year on a blazing summer day.

Freedom may not always appear as booming displays of sparkling and radiant color lighting up the night sky, and it is not always choreographed to the tune of songs we wish to hear—but God alone is the author of true freedom, and I count it an honor to be a part of His story.

Freedom has found me like a hero in the night over and over again. It found me when I was hopeless; it found me when I had walked away from all things true; it found me on the lonely roads of destruction and uncertainty; and it even found me when I had settled for being a captive.

So, I celebrate today like I did yesterday. And I will celebrate again tomorrow. Freedom has found me.

from one wiser than I...

I recently received the following words of wisdom from a mentor and friend after we had spent a morning discussing the changes soon to come in my life. Her words pierced my heart with such conviction that I was compelled to share them with you as well…

“Because I fight perfectionist tendencies (there is more than one of us!), one of my greatest dreads is missing it—somehow missing God’s voice or direction and totally missing all that God has, messing up my life and others’ lives. But some time ago, I felt the Lord’s conviction that, in times of crisis and decision-making, I have been guilty of idolatry—of worshipping at the altar of answers and guidance, and that I was being driven there by fear.

We can so easily, in times of critical decision-making, make the entire focus of our spiritual life on getting an answer rather than on trusting Christ. It becomes “answer worship” or “confirmation worship.” And, often the driving factor in seeking His voice and confirmation is fear, not trust and love. Fear of disappointing others, fear of having a wasted life, fear of missing God’s highest and best, etc., etc., etc.

Fear is rarely a God-sanctioned motivator. And I sense that He is affronted by my panicked genuflection before the altar of answers. He motivates us by life, draws us through His love, and promises to be a good shepherd, whose voice we recognize. His purpose is to conform us to the image of His Son, period. That, of course, happens through the exercising of talents and vocations. But it also happens, unfortunately, by God-ordained delays, switchbacks, forks-in-the-trail when He confounds us and invites us to trust Him at ever-deeper levels.”