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.

Trust in the Lord and do good;
  Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.  
Delight yourself in the Lord;
  And He will give you the desires of your heart.
 Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him, and He will do it.

-Psalm 34:3-5

Yesterday marked the first day of my Spring semester working in campus ministry. As we slung our bags over our shoulders, my campus director gave the ardent charge: "Let's go get tired!" He was half-joking, but it has been so fitting in light of the beginning of this year, the great shifting of what "normal" will look like for me as God has directed me to look and consider what it means to give my life to Him. He's directed my wandering eyes from the harvest fields illuminated in the distance to the heads of grain peeling before me. I think He's calling me to dwell in this land, to stop my wistful fence-climbing and break up the soil I've been standing on all along. 

In the beginning, God planted a garden in the land of Eden, and He told Adam to work it. There was no sweat of the brow, no thorned weeds to tear up his calluses. But God gave him life and a job, and like Adam, He gives us life and a job. I've been thinking about this, the way He has given us breaths and bodies and selves full of life to steward for the job He's called us to, especially as it applies to evangelism. It can be a thing of beauty, surrender and joy in seeking first the Kingdom of God, or it can be a place of struggle where we either hoard and bury our "talents" or spend them like the prodigal son on small and passing pleasures. 

But oh, there is a beauty in the lavish spending of our selves for the glory of God! May we spend our lives for the King, may we run this race collecting  scabs on our knees and dirt under our fingernails. May our cheeks be creased by the joy of Jesus and our feet be blistered from the spreading of Good News. May we exercise the muscles He reformed when He told us to pick up our mat and walk, and with our numbered breaths may we declare that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son.

Last Sunday my Pastor taught on the promises of God, and tonight I find myself in the familiar place of longing. Of the waiting, of the hope that never dies only because it's a Holy fire. When the wavering comes, when the wind of the accuser causes the light to tremble, the oil of the Spirit and the Word cause it to keep burning. 

The longer I live, the more I realize the futility of the pursuits of this world. I got my BA, but my college education felt, in a great many ways, like a lesson in learning enough to sound intelligent without knowing very much at all. The more I learn, the more I learn that there's more I don't know than I thought. It's funny how both pride and humility can come out of study, even though humility alone should be the result. 

I had a conversation recently with a woman about marriage. I told her something about the "nagging" that follows the single person all of the time, and how nice it would be for that to stop with marriage. "It doesn't go away," she told me. "it just looks different." I didn't ask her what she meant. But I can imagine. I can watch married couples, I can see their imperfections, and I can know my heart's own restless evil. Marching down the aisle doesn't eradicate sin. A spotless gown the color of snow cannot sanctify the bride. Only Jesus can do that. Only through the slow, painful process of iron-sharpening-iron and humble repentance can something beautiful rise to the top. It's only after the battle has been fought that the dust can settle and the two can come out one. 

Last August, God led to me to commit one year of my life to campus ministry, twelve months to discipling girls and evangelizing on campus. My dreams were hopeful. I heard stories of miracles in dorm rooms. I talked to one woman during our training who had gone through the internship before, asking her what one word of advice she had to give me. "Don't have any expectations," she told me. 

I took her advice, and without holding any expectations, I have not been disappointed. But I have faced discouragement as reality has set in with discipleship. Plans to meet fall through the cracks. Missed calls happen. Life is busy, always busy, it is midterm season, it is final season, work will not give any mercy. I see my sin, it is not a pure "them" problem. My sin creeps up like poison in the moment of opportunity. Calvin said our hearts are idol factories, and it is sickening how quickly new models arrive on the scene in mine. Temptations arrive to make discipleship about me, about my value in the eyes of God, about my value in the eyes of others, about my value in my own self-evaluation.

All of the these life groanings and realizations are real. But they are not final. 

They are not the climax. 

We do not call them a small thing or close our eyes and pretend they're not there. Neither do we re-label the bad things and call them "good". 

We expose and accept the jagged edges of our pieces, and we lift our eyes to look beyond the wreckage. There are whispers of a Bridegroom who has loved us from the start. There are rumors of a Rescuer who brings joy in the morning, when we begin to assess the damage. 

There is word of words that are sure. Trustworthy. True. Promises with a spine on them. A Promise made in flesh. A Promise made in blood. 

"Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?

 Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

                                             He will make all things new.

Her joy gushed out like a broken sprinkler, spreading over all who would receive her--and all who would rather not. Even her walk took on an elated stupor, following the pattern of a skipping calf, or a child trying to avoid stepping on the lines.
When she took a breath, she spent it on praise, and when she set her hands to work on a bouquet, she could never tug at one bud without including an island of soil beneath it.