There are some friendships that feel "good" because they spread smoothly and unobtrusively into the "Friends" cubby hole, and there are other friendships that are "good" because they simply will not stay inside that box. They don't spread like silky frosting on one corner of the cake, instead they spread like melted chocolate, blazing trails that know no boundaries. They overflow into your "personal space", they find their way into your grocery list, your morning alarm, and convictions from the Spirit. They are not "good" because they are easy, for although they are full of moments of enjoyment, they are in many ways good because they are hard. 

I am talking about the good friendships that press in and press hard. I am talking about the good friendships that leave a mark. I am talking about the good friendships that make sparks as iron meets iron and both come out the sharper for it.

God has been growing a vision for what a generous spirit looks like in me, and my response has been Oh Lord, make me generous. But then the cost becomes flesh and blood, becomes real sacrifices of what I call mine. I cannot be generous with my time, resources, emotions, and attention and lock it all up. This prayer has made me realize that I need to pray for a change of heart. I am a penny hoarder, enjoying their company as I count each one dear to myself alone. One of my excuses in the past has been that my treasure to give is not silver and gold. But that doesn't seem to bother Him. If I had more, I don't doubt that it would be even more difficult to give away.



“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal,  but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." -Matthew 6:19-21

O LORD,

No day of my life has passed that has not proved me guilty in thy sight.       
Prayers have been uttered from a  prayerless heart;
Praise has been often praiseless sound;
My best services are filthy rags.

Blessed Jesus, let me find a covert in thy appeasing wounds.
Though my sins rise to heaven thy merits soar above them;
Though unrighteousness weighs me down to hell, 
 thy righteousness exalts me to thy throne.
All things in me call for my rejection,
All things in thee plead my acceptance.
I appeal from the throne of perfect justice  
to thy throne of boundless grace.

Grant me to hear thy voice assuring me:  
that by thy stripes I am healed,  
that thou wast bruised for my iniquities,  
that thou hast been made sin for me 
 that I might be righteous in thee,  
that my grievous sins, my manifold sins,    
are all forgiven,  
buried in the ocean of thy concealing blood.
I am guilty, but pardoned, lost, but saved,  
wandering, but found,  
sinning, but cleansed.
Give me perpetual broken-heartedness,
Keep me always clinging to thy cross,
Flood me every moment with descending grace,
Open to me the springs of divine knowledge,  
sparkling like crystal,  
flowing clear and unsullied
through my wilderness of life.
-Valley of Vision

Go buy this book. Go buy this book.

For my own part, I have never ceased to rejoice that God has appointed me to such an office. People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa. . . . Is that a sacrifice which brings its own blest reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny hereafter? Away with the word in such a view, and with such a thought! It is emphatically no sacrifice. Say rather it is a privilege. Anxiety, sickness, suffering, or danger, now and then, with a foregoing of the common conveniences and charities of this life, may make us pause, and cause the spirit to waver, and the soul to sink; but let this only be for a moment. All these are nothing when compared with the glory which shall be revealed in and for us. I never made a sacrifice.

-David Livingstone

Learning to Love your Church

Love for your church, like love for your spouse (or future spouse) is something that often slowly moves from a self-focused infatuation to a deep-seated sacrificial love for the other with the passing of time. A sophisticated, self-giving love does not come sweep you off your feet. It is not something you can "fall" into. Real love comes out of a soil that's been tilled through, cleaned of its stones and rampant weeds. Real love comes out of hearts of stone becoming hearts of flesh.

Recently a friend told me about some men in his life who, even with their apparent depth of character and spiritual maturity that he admired, admitted they did not really love the women they chose to marry until some time after their wedding. There had to be a humbling, a repenting, a Spirit-empowered shaping for a true love to spring between them. Within the covenant relationship between them, by God's grace, restoration of God's design was able to form. 

In the same way, I have seen the transitions from "love" to love to love taking place in my church. I have seen this process happening in myself. Initially, there is the excitement as you discover you have found the church of your dreams. You feel moved by the sermons, you are thrilled by the music, you find others there who seem to "get" you. And so you keep going, you keep feeling the high every Sunday, until the rhythm of it all becomes another familiar part of the week. And then you begin to notice things--there are things missing, things lacking, things that are wrong. The question lurks in your mind--did I pick the right church? Is this where God wants me?

 But then, God is gracious, and He teaches you to love, and He shows you He's brought you here not just for your growth but for the growth of others--and in that serving, you also find your growth. Where love was a close-fisted bud, it opens and unleashes a perfume. Your love becomes more profound, your love begins to look more like the God who is Love. It moves from the transient rush of the moment into something solid and costly. But in this incarnation you find joy. A new warmth fills you as your hands, feet, schedule, and bank account are carved into and divided among others. You find a new satisfaction from the increasingly gradual shift from "mine" to "His" and "yours". You abide in the Love of God, you are matured in His love for you, and you are changed. 

And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more...-Philippians 1:9

The Meaning of Things

It is a common mistake to demonize the idols we've chiseled out of good things. It is an easy solution to turn to when the axe falls, and we find our lover has exchanged our kisses for a killing, a stealing, and a destroying of our lives. But it is not always the fault of the object of our affections--sometimes we are the ones that dress it up in coats more than double its size, and become crushed when it won't play the part we've designated for it. When it does not fulfill that role, we are ready to throw it out, proclaiming to everyone the evils and inadequacies of the fallen one. Sometimes we go so far as to gather rallies, movements, crowds of people to join us in not only removing the halos from our darlings, but sending them on into exile. Our fingers are pointed at our former objects of desire, but really our disgust is only there because we are the ones who gave them a position they never had. We are the ones who confused their job titles but hired them on the spot anyway.

I see myself doing this time and time again in a multitude of ways, but recently I have seen this in my own view of marriage. Being a wife is something I am tempted to scorn or write off when I realize that men are just as desperate for grace as I am. Saying "I do" is scrubbed of its gloss when I watch a mother change another dirty diaper and try "one more time" to silence a night-owl-baby with another feeding. The nearer I get to single men and the closer I get to married couples, the more I realize that my category, my definition for "love" and "husband" and "wife" do not match up. I have tried to drag other definitions in their place, tried to write under them words like "security", "hope", "refuge", "peace", "worth". I have tried to write my own dictionary, but the Author consistently, graciously, shows me He's got a book of His own. When my hand reacts by grappling for the white-out, He grabs my hand and shows me He is the Word I was looking for all along. The other words follow later in the book, and they are far more robust and well rounded than I could ever make out in my daydreaming. I had, in my disconnected idealism, missed their meaning in this world. When they are set in the context of the Story of the Gospel, every crack that turned me away before shines. Suddenly, with the Word in His rightful place, everything is illuminated with Glory.

I've reached a season of limbo, and my vision is all near-sighted. To be suspended between "this" and "that" and "this other thing" is a hard place to be. To step into the water no more than ankle deep has its own restlessness. I ache to plummet the depths of this body of water, but I don't think that the water will give way beneath me. I think it requires a digging. I think it requires some sweat and toil.

I used to think of myself as a patient person, but now I can see that I do not have the patience of Jesus Christ. I still fall short, no matter how much longer my calm remains in comparison with others. There are things that I desire, but in His silence He says to wait for His reply. To wait for His answer. It feels although I am halfway through doing the splits, and my coach will only tell me to keep holding my feet in place, straddled between two spheres. My thighs tingle and ache, and I am tempted to relieve the tension by shifting my weight. I am tempted to be like Sarai, taking things into my own hands. I am tempted to orchestrate the resolve, the grand finale, the moment when the breath is released from trembling lungs. Surely then, all will be well, all will be right...
But no. I am in need of Kingdom vision. I am in need of a removal of the deceitfulness of sin to see Truth.

The things I see before me are the things the world eagerly seeks after. The things I see before me are the things the Father knows that I need. The things I see before me are those I am tempted to grab like a teddy bear in my moment of panic. I start piling my hope onto a molehill, mistaking its strength for a mountain's. Sin lies, and I often believe those lies. I need to know Truth--but I also need to believe it.

Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.-Matt. 6:31-33

"As a Christian, my brand of perfectionism can be a little more subtle because it sometimes disguises itself in pious clothing. But even when perfectionism seems to be aimed at godly living, it is prideful because it expects from ourselves now what only God has promised to accomplish in the future. Perfectionism disregards God’s promise to make us who we ought to be by attempting in our own strength to meet the goal of that promise in the present, and by positioning ourselves as the final judges of our performance."

-Winston Hottman

I think there's a difference between a love of learning and a lust for knowledge. There's a kind of greediness that I sense if I do not watch myself when reading. I need to ask, when I get sucked into the black hole of knowledge--what is worth knowing? 

I need to keep in mind--- 
I can know all things and fail to love, 
I can know all things and miss wisdom,
I can know all things and fail concerning my life's calling,
and I can lose my ability to learn and think without warning--but that does not take away from my worth or identity or how much the Father loves me. 

Knowledge must be put into perspective.

Knowledge must also be applied by the Spirit--how else can it be affected into my life? To have my mind be full and nothing rearranged would be a waste. To chew one's dinner for days and never swallow won't fill one's stomach. 

There's a feeling of comfort in learning through books. The walls are padded there: you may experience regret, disgust, shame, guilt, and exhilaration--but then when you put the book down, you remember the pillow propped behind your back, and the five layers of cotton and polyester swaddled around you. A book may disturb you like a bad dream, but you can always open your eyes and remember you never left your bed.

To live, to experience, to inhabit, to "step outside"--that is what is truly terrifying.

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."-JRR Tolkien

But, of course, it is not only terrifying--it is also a lot of hard work. Sometimes it is hard because it is strenuous, and requires sacrifice and setting up boundaries for yourself that deny yourself pleasure, and sometimes it is hard because it is entirely mundane. But of course, to view something as "mundane" and to regard it as insignificant because it doesn't appear glamorous or exciting or meaningful--that denies the teaching of the Bible. The seemingly small obediences are seen by God, and we are destined for the return of Jesus. We aren't wandering in circles in the wilderness, we are traveling to the Promised Land.

 O Lord, how my adversaries have increased! 

Many are rising up against me.

Many are saying of my soul,

"There is no deliverance for him in God."

Psalm 3:1-2

     This is the voice of the Accuser, pulling out our deep fear to the surface--that, "perhaps", we do not see the deliverance of God because He is not willing. Because our sin is too great. Because we don't have the "formula" down correctly. Do we not feel our deficiencies clinging to us so closely? Do we not feel that we deserve to be rejected? 

But then, there is our God. He does not accuse us of our sins. He does not excuse us of our sins. He gives us Jesus. 

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things? Who will bring a charge against God's elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us.

Rom. 8:31-34

Without Christ, we would have no deliverance in God. The Father would be the one to pour His wrath and judgement upon us--apart from Jesus, the Father would be our greatest threat. But the very One who would destroy us has made a way to deliver us in the Son, and now no charge can be brought against those of us who are in Him. 

I know I risk being misunderstood. More than a few would point not to the lack of power, but to the abysmal theological immaturity in the Church as the source of its struggle. I can't argue with that. Biblical illiteracy and theological naivete have reached epidemic proportions in the Church today. But more than knowledge if needed. Mere doctrine won't suffice. What the Church needs is truth set aflame by the power of the Holy Spirit. What the Church needs is the divine energy of God Himself bringing what we know to bear on how we live and how we pray and how we love and how we witness. And let's not forget that teaching is itself a spiritual gift, no less a manifestation of the power of the Spirit than tongues or miracles (see Rom. 12:7; 1 Cor. 12:29; Eph 4:11)!

-Sam Storms

...Spiritual gifts are not God bestowing to His people something external to Himself. They are not some tangible "stuff" or substance separable from God. Spiritual gifts are nothing less than God Himself in us, energizing our souls, imparting revelation to our minds, infusing power in our wills and working His soverign and gracious purposes through us. Spiritual gifts must never be viewed deistically, as if a God "out there" has sent some "thing" to us "down here." Spiritual gifts are God present in, and with and through human thoughts, human deeds, human words, human love.

-Sam Storms

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.-Matthew 5:4

My soul does not need to be told that I am "good" in my place of discouragement over sin. I do not need to be puffed up to be lifted up, I do not need my pet-sins-turned-bengal-tigers to be groomed and given a heart-shaped dog tag. When I point to the boils covering my skin, I need a cure, not a cosmetic cream. I do not need a compliment, and neither do I need good advice--I need Good News. 

Just as there is a godly sorrow and a worldly sorrow, it appears to me that there is also a worldly comfort and a godly comfort. When the godly sorrow comes--when the conviction of sin brings an upheaval on our hearts--the comfort of this world will not suffice. It offers a counterfeit ease, a shot of caffeine in place of real rest.  

What does godly comfort look like? 

Looking to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. 

He is faithful and just to forgive us of our sin, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

He became sin who knew no sin, that we might become the righteousness of God. 

Jesus, our sweet, perfect comfort. He does not flatter us--He shows us we are far worse than we can imagine--but that He is the friend of sinners. He justifies the ungodly. We are wicked and unworthy--but He loves us. 

Godly comfort corners you into self-forgetful joy.

"If God doesn't want me to be married, then why has He given me the desire to be married?"

I've thought this myself. Once, years ago, I heard a Pastor make the argument that God will surely give you a spouse if you desire one. I took comfort in that word at the time, but it hasn't been until the past few years that I've begun to consider that marriage is not a certainty. It is assumed upon and by many of us--but it is not a promise. Marriage may happen to many, but it does not come to all. I don't make that statement to throw a pity party--it is, objectively, true. 

What do we do in these cases? What do we do with the longing? 

Do we curse it, deny it, suppress it? Do we become bitter? Do we harden our hearts? Do we just find a way to ignore it? 

I have been there, reader. I have committed all of these at one time or another. 

Recently, while on one of my walks interwoven with prayer, I felt the frustration of the longing. There are times when loneliness feels pointless. It feels like a waste. 

There have been times, in all of their well-meaning ways, that "Women's Ministry" events have left me feeling less-than-womanly. In all of their lovely descriptions of the very "fit-ness" of women for the role of a wife and a mother, of the detailed made-for-eachother-ness of a man and woman together, I have been left feeling lacking. If I have been created for a man, what am I to do without one? If marriage is a good thing, then why has God withheld it from me? Why the wasted blood every month? Why the wider-than-masculine hips? Why the empty, aching place for a life-long friend moving in the same direction? 

After my mind had wandered on that walk, the Lord placed a thought in my mind:

Maybe God's given you that desire for another purpose.

Maybe God's given you that longing for a purpose that does not climax in an earthly covenant.

Maybe God hasn't given you that yearning to bring you into relationship with a man, but seeking to accomplish something even more significant through it. 

Every marriage here is momentary. That is not to take away from its beauty or its gospel-picturing glory by any means. We must yearn for Someone greater. We must thirst for a better wedding toast. We must hunger for a richer wedding feast.

Some on this earth will partake of the gift of husband-and-wife. And it is good. 

All who are in Christ will partake of the gift of being the bride of Christ. And that is the far better thing.

On "Uprootings" and the Like

I don't do well with heights--or really with any copious degree of space around me. I get dizzy. I might pass out if I stand around it long enough. Even staring up at the sky, lying flat on my back, stirs me to feel although the laws of gravity will suddenly rebel, and I will fall upwards into the vast blue gap. It's entirely unlikely, I know. But it is still a very disturbing feeling to have. No matter how much I try to talk sense into my head about it, my breathing still quickens, my heart still races. I feel as though I could, even if I can't.

I may never fall into the sky in the literal sense, but metaphorical "uprootings" are the stuff of non-fiction. Can you hold the picture in your head--the one of the arrested carrot caught in the farmer's grasp, its hairy tendrils grasping what it can of its familiar surroundings, its green locks drooping like the ears of a captured puppy? It flies towards the sky before it hangs suspended above the earth and is transported away for other uses. No farm-grown vegetable is given the luxury of being a homebody. It's a part of the vocation.

I've spent most of my life steeped in the soil of Education. The earth's composition around me changed as I grew father down, but my movement was always in the same direction. I could still navigate the terrain below. And then--then there is the tug. The upward jolt. The slipping up.  I have been ripened. I have been readied.

I've dreamed about making journeys to foreign lands. I've swooned at a myriad of possibilities to fill in the blank of the "When I grow up I want to be a _____" statement. I remember, when I was around eleven, deciding that I should be a writer, so that I could just write about all of the adventures I imagined about. My thoughts are very well-traveled--my mind has circled the entire sphere. My body, however, has conformed to the rhythms of the underground world. My imagination could scale the seven wonders, but my body loves the habits of Home.

And yet, even within the same neighborhood, there is the upheaval of seasons. We cannot escape the hands of the Farmer. No matter if you are dressed from head to toe in knits and wool, Summer will not wait till you are tired of Jingle Bells to call you out of hibernation. The time is now.

I faced the panic of space recently. No soil to hold me in place, no place to steady myself. Or, at least--that is what I felt. I felt I could fall, I would fall--and it would be a bitter end. But that is when the Gardener spoke to me of the better Ground that holds me up, the better ground from which I cannot fall. That the soil I sought was as sand, without traction, supplying the feel of security without the strength to keep me secure. "There are things that you think you need that you do not need," I felt He said, and I shifted my weight upon the Rock.


On Christ the solid rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand

Joy in the workplace. Joy in the job searching. Joy as a missionary. Joy as a barista. Joy as a mother. Joy as a single. Joy as a wife. 

Joy that I belong to Jesus. Joy that I am His child and anything I can do can be most radiant under His sovereign hand.

So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom.-Psalm 90:12

You are never too young to think about getting old. Or at least this is what I hold to. We are all dying every day. You are the youngest you will ever be at this moment, but you are also the oldest you have ever been. 

Sometimes I wonder how we would view age if we kept track of the number of days we have been alive, rather than the years. Would we feel our transience a little bit more, or would would the days get buried in the abundance of trailing numbers? 

On June first I turned twenty-four. I'm not going to crack jokes, trying to take hold of the privileges of a higher number while maintaining the benefits of being "young". But I do want to grow in the wisdom that comes from God, and I do want to take hold of that wisdom through processing life as it comes. None of us, no matter our number of gray hairs, will ever "arrive" this side of Heaven. I may not have the benefit of a large breadth of experiences, but I don't want to miss out on gleaning from the ones that I have. Give me a small library to be well-versed in over Powell's books barely scanned any day.*

I am "young", but I am also older than I was before. My body is breaking down--slowly, to be sure, but  it has settled upon being chiseled by the crashing waves as I pass through the waters. My outer person is wasting away with the hours, but my inner self is being renewed day by day to look like Jesus. The world is dressing me down, tearing at my dress like Cinderella's jealous stepsisters, but the Father is dressing me up in a wedding gown. Sin and death scratch their claws over our skin, but there is a transformation taking place that neither have power to reverse. In Christ, death dies. In Christ, the dead are brought to life.

That is something to look forward to.











*No offense to Powell's and their fans. I know that if I ever get to visit Portland one day I will get woozy at the sight of all of those books.

 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who 

comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the 

comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in 

abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.

-2 Cor. 1:3-5

That the aches and groans rising from my soul now can one day become the balm for another's soul is a source of great joy for me. It is this that causes me to eye the thorn so stubbornly embedded under layers of skin with a greater understanding when my Maker refuses to remove it, the red haloed thing that it is. It teaches me that my wisdom has a limit, that my perception's strength is finitely numbered. The glory of God may flash forth with greater brilliance when I run with a limp, my crooked steps may take on more of a dance. 

How can I know which would be better, with or without?
I have come to see that my joy may run deeper in the waters I would never ask to swim in. 

A Rough Draft of my "30 by 30" list. I have six years to complete the list, so I should be able to accomplish nearly all of them if not all, right?

1) Make a terrarium
2) Make a fermented drink (besides kombucha) (Completed June 2014)
3) Plant a vegetable/herb garden
4) Learn to play another instrument: piano, violin, banjo, mandolin, etc.
5) Make homemade cheese
6) Learn an art form: watercolor, tap dance, painting, sculpting, etc.
7) Spend 6-12 months reviewing journals and reflecting and praying on them
8) Go to a foreign food festival
9) Write one blog entry a month for a year
10) Spend 6 months journaling daily
11) Pray through Valley of Vision
12) Read 2 Russian novels
13) Study feministic lit--Feminine Mystique, Simone B., etc.
14) Participate in a book club (completing July 2014)
15) Read two books by a Puritan or some other historical Reformed figure (Calvin's Institutes?)
16) Read two philosophy books (not surveys)
17) Make/wear a flower crown
18) Read 2 whole epic/long poems: Odyssey, Dante, Faerie Queen, Paradise Lost, etc.
19) Spend at least 1 year memorizing scripture
20) Visit a meadow in Springtime
21) Spend one month focusing on prayer for the nations
22) Spend one month focusing on prayer for my family
23) Spend one month focusing on prayer for my neighbors and co-workers
24) Spend one month focusing on prayer for my church
25) Spend one month focusing on prayer for gospel opportunities
26) Spend one month focusing on prayer for friends
27) Spend one month focusing on thinking through and praising God for the gospel
28) Spend one month praying through the Psalms
29) Read a book or listen to lectures on a less familiar subject outside of the Humanities
30) Spend some time with an elderly person and ask them questions

                           For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things.-Romans 11:36

I'm setting out on a conceptual journey of sorts. It isn't really anything new--my mind is constantly a rabbit-trail traveler from the task at hand. I have a large bag full of ideas and truths and observations that  I consistently pull out of my bag, probing deeper and testing to see if new objects will fit alongside of them.  I always ask more questions than I can answer. I always examine a thing to death.

Making discoveries during this process, however, is exhilarating. Finding wisdom and insight is better than striking gold. I'm more curious than a kitten. There are things I know are true, so I set out. There are things I sense are true, so I probe and test and cut into the flesh of the thing. I will never know anything completely, but to gain a new insight is a delight. In my limited wisdom, I lean upon the One who knows all, understands all, created all. From His mouth come wisdom and understanding, and nothing is hidden from His sight. 

In the beginning, God made all things. Man was His last creation, created in His image--both male and female. He brought the woman to the man, and God created the first marriage between them, and told them to "be fruitful" and "multiply". It's the love story most of us know, the details by which we often study to seek to understand what it means to be "male", "female", "married" and "human". But for all that we can learn in the grand entrance, I find myself asking questions about previous teaching on these topics:

 When God said it wasn't "good for Adam to be alone", was He referring exclusively to the necessity of marriage for all men? 

What does it mean to be a woman? What distinguishes her from men, all biological differences aside? 

Can I only express my "femininity" if I am married? 

Is femininity irrelevant if I never do get married?

These questions--among others--have moved me to search deeper to find truth that could change the way I live and the way I relate to others. I have been moved to ask friends questions, to search out the pages of scripture and other books, to pray and journal. This is one of my journeys I am setting out upon right now. I would love to invite you alongside me.

I face the temptation to demonize and/or reject something that's good simply because it has been misused and idolized. I can grow frustrated, banning all cuttery because they have been used as weapons in the past. Yes, expose and reject the long sad history of fork-induced casualties, but do not padlock the utensil drawer. There's no need to switch over to chopsticks.

Basic Principles of Counseling

--"How can  even this situation prove redemptive?"
If I never lose hope in Christ's gracious control and redemptive agenda, I will be able to communicate the same to those I counsel.

--"Most people don't know that their biggest problem is not 'out there' in the world; it's 'in here' in their own heart."
Always move the agenda toward the person sitting in front of me.

--"Love. Know. Speak. Do."
 Counselors care, probe, speak Ephesians 4:15 and 4:29 truth, and help people make concrete changes. Am I covering all the bases? Am I on the right base now?

--"Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father" (Col. 3:17).
 I am a servant called to be a  faithful and full of faith, not a technician called to fix things.

--"Get to specifics. After all the talking is done, what are you going to do about your watershed issue this week?" 
Change happens in the details, in the step-step-step of your walk. Effective counseling moves towards substantive change.

--"This life, therefore, is not righteousness but growth in righteousness... We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it."
As this quote from Luther attests, small changes accumulate; a glimpse of final glory.

--"Counseling--no magic, no technique, no sure cure."
Biblical counseling is simply the way of speaking wisely with moral decision-makers who will trust and obey either lies or truth.

---David Powilson, from his book "Speaking Truth in Love"

Faith in the Faithful One

                                 
                 "she considered Him faithful who had promised."-Hebrews 11:11

What a beautiful thing to be said of Sarah. 
What a beautiful legacy for every daughter of God to have.

From beginning to end, our life of faith is one of listening, treasuring and walking in light of the promises of God--considering, even in the foggy light of opposition, that He is more faithful than the rising sun. That the flowers and the grass of this life fade away, but the Word of God remains. That when the Holy Spirit spoke through John to pen that those who would receive and believe on Jesus would become children of God, He meant it. That, if we come to Jesus like the leper asking to be cleansed, and confess our sins, He is willing and able to forgive us of our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. That He came to justify the ungodly, and this is good news, for we are all the ungodly wanderers and rebels, no matter if our resume is dressed in khakis and polos or denim and tattoos. That, as we approach the thinning pages in our decaying bodies, we remember He told us that He is the resurrection and the life, and we remember His question as directed to us---"Do you believe this?". 

He who has promised is faithful. Lord make us into women who remember Your words and live our lives in response to them, trusting that You have done what You said You did, You are doing what You said You are doing, and You will do what You said You will do. In the end, we will worship Jesus and see the stunning beauty of Him and His faithfulness to His Word. 
All glory be given to Him alone.

There is a shrinking of the eyes that I am terrified of, a kind of blindness that comes from glazing over the shocking words of Jesus for the sake of retaining my tempur-pedic life.

You will have to bear with me, dear reader, because I am well aware of my own lack of understanding, my lack of wisdom and experience. But I want to be humble enough to trust that the Lord will lead me in this, and correct me like a child in the ways that I am naive, idealistic, or judgmental. Certainly his correction will come in different forms for the rest of my life.

This fear is real, however. I am open to those who would wish to speak to my thoughts. I know that there are those out there who appear to claim that the true Christian lives "radically", lives in the middle of the rainforest with some obscure tribe, distributing Bibles; lives in India freeing young women from sex trafficking, cuddles little babies in orphanages in a country in Africa that they can't even pronounce. These are amazing stories, amazing testimonies that inspire and encourage us.

Sometimes following Jesus looks like this, yes.

But then there is a backlash against this mindset--those who rise to the defense of the obedience in the mundane, the faithful mothers who stay at home to teach their children addition and subtraction in their living room, the men who leave their loved ones at sunrise and arrive to join them for their last meal of the day before slipping into bed.

Sometimes following Jesus looks like this, yes.

My fear, however, lies in the second example.

It is not that I am afraid of living a "boring life". I have never been a risk taker, I have never left the country or broken a bone in my life. I understand that there is no division between the "sacred" and "secular" areas of work, that Jesus is Lord over both of them. What I fear is not so much the circumstances themselves, as my own temptation in them. I pray and hope that the Lord will create in me a steadfastness in the small things, in the things that the world despises but Jesus calls me to. What I fear is that I will assume that because He has called me to a "normal" kind of life, that I will run away from sharing the gospel as He has called us all to do. I'm afraid that I will become so preoccupied with doing my work well that I will declare that is enough. That I will be satisfied with that, and assume He hasn't called me to more.

As I think about this "out loud", I feel although I probably sound condescending to the women out there who have been faithful in the things that look little but are actually very big. Like I said, I am still wrestling through these things. My thoughts haven't reached a conclusion, my heart is very restless in the struggle to understand. I have great respect for both those who "go out" and those who "stay in". I had one friend recently express to me how she didn't know how to share the gospel in her workplace, and I honestly don't know how to do it either. And as far as being a stay-at-home-mom and reaching out--I feel humbled and kind of guilty to talk about it, thinking about mothers I know and love, especially one who has struggled to transition from vocational ministry to being a mother 99% of the time. This new world to me is so foreign and strange, and I am wiggling out of my cocoon with deep passion for following Jesus as a woman in the workplace without knowing exactly how these passions are to be applied.

I'm afraid I will look no further than the untilled earth before me. I fear that I will drink and forget those who thirst, break my bread and forget those who hunger. I'm afraid that I will let my fingers get soft and   grow an ungodly kind of contentment. Surely Jesus will rise me from this kind of slumber, pull out the mattress from under me and speak His conviction over me in that loving yet commanding way that He does. But still, I fear. I hope this is a good kind of fear, a godly kind of fear that means Jesus is keeping me awake to listen and hear His Spirit's leading in both the spiritual and the literal harvest.

Even if my back is set in a deformed slump, my shoulders taking on a slouch, I know that He sets the crooked straight, I know that He alone can reform my jagged skeletal frame. He doesn't ask me to lift my chin a little higher and walk with a metered gait before I enter His courts. He bids me leave the forest of my hiding, for it is the sick who need a doctor, not the healthy. He will set my bones into place, He will dress me with royal attire.

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.-1 Cor. 15:58

Walking out Jesus' call of discipleship and evangelism does not always look graceful, but it is entirely grace-filled. Last year I prodded along, trying to bridge the gap between 18 and 23, between Kanye West and Andrew Bird, Marilynne Robinson and Stephenie Meyer. I spent time learning not only to be a listener but also to try to direct the conversation towards exposing their need for Jesus. The Holy Spirit was at work, but there was still a lot of that struggle against timidity in my heart. By God's grace I made progress in coming out from behind the curtain, but I still found myself feeling stifled by my own fear or lack of awareness of the situation.

This year, the Lord has been giving me more of a sense of exhilaration. The desire burning within me to love well and for my lips to be filled with the life-giving words of the gospel are beginning to surface and find more expression, and I am giddy with joy. I think that beauty is the transforming work of the Spirit to make us look like Jesus, and it is so exciting to see His fingerprints over our lives doing this as He remakes us.

At one point during my first week on campus, the enemy filled my mind with the question--"Who do you think you are, approaching girls who have probably been approached with the gospel before? Who do you think you are, believing you can actually have an impact upon the salvation of these souls?"
My response is that I don't think anything great of myself. I think great things of Jesus. It is accordance with HIS power to save and transform that I can be bold and hopeful, regardless of how awkward I am and whether or not I see any immediate fruit. I am free to obey imperfectly. When I begin to grow cross-eyed and turn my eyes inward till all you can see are the whites of my eyes, my vision becomes skewed and I cannot walk out His calling upon my life with the growing fullness He desires for me.

But when I turn my gaze upon Jesus, I can keep running. And when I say "Jesus", I don't mean Jesus in the abstract. I mean Jesus as He shows Himself in His word. How can we see Him if we aren't continually coming to the place where He shows us what He is like? How can we know Him if we aren't sitting at His feet and listening to His words? How can our hearts love One our minds don't know? How can we know what a Person is like unless we close our mouths, open our minds and listen?

May we run, freed by His grace, knowing that He will use our small and temporary works for something Eternal.