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