On Sarah, Wait, and Trust.

Sarah is both the bane of my existence and nagging hopeful encouragement.  She's this character that is a mirror reflection of everything in my heart, from the turmoil of wait to the greed of control to the thoughts of manipulation to the provoked sarcasm.  She carries the weight of womanhood, the holy desire of children, the faulty human perception, and the anxiousness to question.

I feel her story grow in me, her sin nature reflect me, and her parallels my Truth to cling to.  Her story has come to me repeatedly in the last few weeks, in contexts from Bible Study to conversation to books in my hand.  And the Lord is telling me to wait.  But I feel Sarah, restless with urges to ease the desire, to create the whole, the formulate a plan.

She wanted for more.  She waiting and tried to trust his plan, years of anxious nights and endless days, waiting a family of her own.  Hours at the afternoon well, seeing the women with what she didn't have.   She had His promise, but that wasn't enough.  She wanted more.  She wanted a child, a family of her own, and her heart was tired of enduring, of pushing to trust, of believing He had her hand.

So in her fear, in her doubt, in her clenched teeth of worry, she crafted and created a plan.  Helping God along.

A child was born to Hagar, her maidservant offered to Abram.  And Sarah casts lot on them all.  Anger with Abram, bitterness to Hagar, and still emptiness of her own.  She feared the waiting, distrusted His plan, and manipulated the time to work on her own.  But instead it cut lines through each relationship, marring the life of Hagar and Ishmael forever, and leaving Sarah still alone.

How often don't I compel to do the same on my own?  To distrust God's promise, to line up my own solution to his plan, to foretell the story as I see it told.  I don't like to wait.  I gnarl in the pain of agony of it, even when I have been give his promise in full grace and graciousness.  Its as if time is bigger than  His promise, my human desires greater than his good, and my anxiousness larger than his loyalty.

God had asked her to wait.  To wait and trust.  His words ring back to me "Wait on the Lord, be strong and take heart, and wait on the Lord"  (Psalm 27:14).  And his fulfillment years later to Sara deepen his character of Trust: "Now the Lord was gracious to Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah what he had promised.  Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him"  (Genesis 21:1-2).

At the very time.  How hard is it to trust god for at the very time?  In Ruth, it is written often it just so happened (paraphrase) as the Lord's plan unfolded as he guided (Ruth).  For Hannah, her angst arose i prayers but the Lord was faithful to the cries he heard, "So in the course of time..." (I Samuel 1:20).  Each woman had to wait, to trust, to be faithful to today in order to honor his plan.

Sara gripped power and control and devastated her own.  Ruth and Hannah proceeded down the road of hurt and despair, but God gave ear to their desperation.  The Lord was faithful to each.  His concern for them out did their inner wrestling.  His love for them blanketed their longing.  And his faithfulness triumphed their fear.

As we walk throughout our roads, may we be women who are willing to wait, to trust, to release the wrestle of our fear.  To believe his Words that he will guide us, that he has our good, that his love is greater than our thoughts, our worries, our plan.  May we find comfort in his covenants, steadfast peace in his control, and faith to surrender to the God who is always present, always omnipotent, always guiding, always the Lord.

Fill My Cup.

We sat with our mutual mugs -- hers a blue Starbucks mug with North Carolina imprints, girdy in size but beautiful in composition, and mine a hand-painted happy chirp mug, scribed and textured by her artistry.  Our coffee was fresh, hers brewed in an elegant French press, and mine blended in the counter Keurig.

I was freshly sweating, still in workout polyester with-slick backed hair and she was newly woken, Nuggets sweatshirt and cutie shorts still under covers.

And she filled my cup.

I laughed with joy, seeing her face, trying to reach through the Skype screen and hug her in gloriousness.  We talked like school girls, breaking through each other's sentences, with happiness and understanding and use of words that only we can understand.  She referred to a friend as Jo, referencing the name as "like Jo from Little Women," which only girls like us get.  And guided a tour of her apartment, with framed cards and glass bottles and wooden signs and antiqued furniture, was like walking through my home.  Both of us caring about details, about color, about shape, about flow.

And my heart settled.  Her conversation filled my cup.

I love this friendship, this coffee filling, heart filling, life-giving sisterhood between Kate and I.  We palpitate for hours about Kenya, the red dirt sands and long-legged giraffes and Agape boys we've both gotten to love.  Our voices will carry about school and teaching and nannying, motherhood and men and money, between breaths of good books we're reading, Bible passages we're studying, and vacations we're amid dreaming.  Its an endless weave of conversation, flowing in and out like rabbit trails, both of us hoping along at grand paces but always connecting, gliding, needing.

Our words fill my cup.  Our mutual passions fill my cup.  Our shared emotion fills my cup.

Its beautiful to sit, to Skype, across from a friend who is so comfortable that pajamas or sweats or tears or laughter will do.  All I had to do was bring myself, and my coffee cup.

And she filled my cup.

~~~
Thanks, Kate Riedberger, for your special time and heart.  God blesses me through having you in my life.

Personal Pharaohs.

I'm in Egypt right now.  Wandering in my own life, in my own spinning soul, under the powers of Pharaohs, yet trying to be a trusting Israelite after the One True God.  I've been doing the Kelly Minter study "No Other Gods" for the past few weeks, and am reflecting on the teaching of week one: Personal Pharaohs.

What's interesting, is that my take away from this portion is probably so different, so distinct, so... me... from most others.  Because I see two sides of the coin:  One as the Pharaohs who seem to internally or externally oppress and enslave, and the other is the purposeful notion to Guard Ones Heart.

Pharaoh's push the heart down.  Suck out the marrow, drive for harder work, squish out the life.  Pharaohs can be relationships, jobs, situations, wrong emotions, critical attitudes, or life circumstances.  Some Pharaohs are placed in our lives to sharpen us, others are there to squander us.  Some are there out of our control or ability to be released from, while others we choose to stay under or are afraid to exodus from.

My Pharaohs look like many shapes and sizes...  Confining me with fear or leaving me intimidated or binding me to be less than I am.  Yet the hardest thing for me about Egypt right now, is knowing which Pharaoh's I can leave and be released from, and when the exile is allowed.  Though I know the Lord does not want to leave us bound, enslaved, or in chains, he has allowed his people to be in such, until the proper time.

While reading Kelly Minter's expository though, I couldn't help but stop and sit for a long time on the phrase, the Proverb:  "Guard your heart, for it is the well spring of life."  Because some Pharaoh's are created by ourselves, some are imposed on us, and some are just there.  But how we react to them, and how long we face them is sometimes our choice.

I think about this in two ways:  One, that ruling Pharaohs like fear or worry or doubt or distrust or unforgiving, are all internal.  We ourselves are able, with God's power, to get out from under them -- by purposefully guarding our heart against them!  We can build up our armor (Ephesians 6) with prayer, scripture, fellowship, and knowledge to make our walls stronger against these personal, internal Pharaohs  (More to come on this in another post).  Kelly speaks also about our imagination, and how that needs boundaries too, guarding our hearts and minds!

Secondly, I think in practical terms about guarding my heart.  I remember the words of Bekah when I was at my job at Wilson Middle School, the August after my mom died.  I described to her in depth what I was feeling, and she said "I don't want that for you."  But I kept the job anyway -- because people told me I needed a job, needed the money, and the health insurance, so to stick it out and suck it up and I'd be fine.  Then my friend Kate Vasey visited me that fall and said she didn't want this job for my heart and life, and wrote my resignation to help guard my heart, when I could not on my own.  This past week, I got a text from my friend Kara and she said, "I want better than that for you" and an email fro my friend Kate Riedberger, who also wanted better for my heart...  These all are reminders to me that (I have the best friends) guarding your heart is something you do, and you friends do for you.  Sometimes they can see things you can't, and can see outside the practical side to the personal side.   The see how Christ can cultivate and nurture you, and will stand like Nehemiah's prayer and power wall against Pharaoh's for you.  To guard our heart is sometimes to do the impractical in order to leave it softened, open, and malleable to God's will.

I'm finding Personal Pharaohs in all my corners, lurking like Satan to devour my heart and in situations to crumble me from the outside in.  Physical pharaohs, mental pharaohs.  But all I want is to be free of pharaohs, to live in the escape of Exodus, know these things:

1.  "Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!"  This means inward, outward.  Boldness, hope.
2.  John 10:10 promises us that he has come to give us life, and life to the full.   Living under personal pharaohs attempts to rob us of this promise.
3.  He has come to bring freedom to the captives, and break the chains of the prisoner (Isaiah 61).  This is both metaphorical and literal.  In this blog context, the fact that Jesus also repeated these words doubles the impact of their hope and presence, for he desires us to be released, and free in him.

I don't know what Personal Pharaohs are taunting you, or how to always combat or answer to mine, but these are the thoughts of my wrestling, and in sharing them, somehow, my release....

Emotional Space to Be.

My friend, Kate Vasey, and her husband have had a mentor couple since as long as I can remember.  Perhaps even since their dating years.  They now are two children into marriage and years keep coming with growth and challenges and support and friendship.

But something their mentor couple said years ago, has always stuck with me.  The wife was talking about staying home as a mom and what that means, and why that's important.  And her words were something like, "When you stay home full time, you can have the extra emotional fill take to give to your husband and children for when they come home."

I think about now, as Mark and I give our emotional fill tank to "the world" - our jobs, and try to make every effort to find some leftovers to give to each other.  And it reminds me of the woman's words.  About wanting to be filled so I am able to overflow into him.

And I think about the women I see who are working full-time and watch their scattered homes and how this one in particular feels frantic always, and the impact that has on me and her children and her household.

Then my sisters words of yesterday float back, and she said they were staying home for the day, skipping errands and playdates, because her "household needed her."  Time to play dolls with Kaylin, get on top of groceries, and rest in pajamas.  Time to, be.

I wonder what this means for us as women.  We are those who think, yes, but who live in the depth of our hearts.  And we feel in a way that is distinct.  And our hearts need to be full.  We give out, always.  But in this world, we need to be filled by the Holy Spirit and the Word, by our friendships, by time to just be.  We need space for the things that fill us -- books, music, movement, conversation -- so we are filled and able to help others Be.

I am called to be his helpmate, and her dear sister, and her close friend.  All of these things require an inward strength, and outward flow, to be giving, available, loving, patient, kind, and have the capacity to help others Be.

Lord, give me the emotion, the time, the energy, the space, the temperament, and currently, the job, to Be.  And Be the woman you created me to Be.  Fill my emotional tank so I can help my husband, and my friends, to be the people you've called and enabled them to Be.

Grown-Up Things.

In an email from a friend this week, she listed off all the things she was getting done, from house-cleaning to Christmas shopping, and ended with "sometimes I just hate being a grown-up."  I could hear her sign and feel her slump.  Like the pen thrown down the page in surrender to the list of the demands of life.

I found myself casting loud echo with her statement.  Yet I would need to add my grumpy tone and sour scowl.  Fully knowing and aware that: my attitude stinks.  Somehow recently I've elevated myself above anything that could be considered a task, then given myself a Cinderella complex with pity party as I boar over the job.

I've lived on my own for twelve years, eight of those post college, but somehow my attitude, heart, and mind have twisted in the past year.  I've found myself prickling about grocery shopping, humphing about loads of laundry, sighing about vacuuming, snarling about meal-planning, and brewing about having to go to work.

The thing is, everyone does these things. All the Mercedes owners pump gas.  All my neighbors lug in their bags of groceries.  All my friends do piles of laundry.  All homeowners roll out the garbage.

I'd like to crawl back into my parents house and have my mom do all the "grown-up things" for me again.  But I can't.  I'm the grown-up.  I'm the one living the life.  I'm the one who also gets to do grown-up things like go out for dinner, sip wine with friends, take airplanes to far places, and attend the theater with my love.

I am a terrible grown-up.  I'm a grown-up praying for an attitude change.  I'm not there.  At all.  But I know God well enough to know he will put people in my life to train me as such, offer Truth in my dark spaces, and prune me so that I will have the grown-up attitude of a servant, to do my grown-up things in the Light of Christ.

"You were taught with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness."  Ephesians 4:22-24

"Therefore, if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interest but each of you to the interests of others.  Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus... taking on the very nature of a servant..."  Ephesians 2:1-7

Look Up.

Today, I am thankful for the sky.  For the perspective that it offered on my morning commute.  I've been churning a lot inside and looking at myself a lot.  And as I was driving, I cognitively told myself, "Look up!  Your God is bigger than you have made him out to be!"  And I looked up.  And I smiled.  Clouds smoldered with the morning grays and brought perspective in the vastness.  My God is so big. My life and thoughts and self are so small.  His wisdom, ability, sovereignty, and strength are only reflected in slight through that expanse of sky.  My God is so big; I just need to learn to look up.

Things I Didn't Know I Wanted.

I find myself wishing, envying.... everything.  Things I didn't even know I wanted.

I wanted to live in Africa, in a hut, ministering to the local women and children.

I wanted to be a mother, and have children who I loved and prayed and nurtured over in my home.

I wanted to be a friend, who sat with tea and cookies and listened and cared.

These are the things I wanted. These are the things my life geared toward, motioned into,  and fostered forward for.

But now I find myself in several months of looking and listening and hearing... and coveting.

I see houses so big and broad that they feel empty or boasting, now decorated in my head.

I notice cars that before seemed frivolous, now on my have-to-have list.

I see children and women and families dressed perfection, now idealized in my plan.

I live in South Charlotte.  I roam in circles of wealth and find their norm becoming my concept of common.  I gloat over their money, their families, their homes.  And paint it as my dreams aimed for reality.

Which then leaves me struggling, straining, and strangled.  Strangled by dreams that aren't mine.  Struggling against values that I don't hold.  Straining for wealth I won't attain.  Striving for things I didn't know I wanted, and I don't want.

The Flip Side.

I feel like I've been writing a lot of Eeyore-type posting, slightly ho-hum with a saddened bent to them.  So I'm trying to offer a bit of balance to those with a few pictures of what else is going on in life this fall...  of goodness.

 

 Labor Day weekend games with our family.

 Our new adventures: biking the greenways, near home, and getting outside...

 Of course:  fall brings USC

 Trips with friends: here at Lazy 5 with Daniel and Lauren

New BFFs (who went back to South Africa now): Kendra & Daniel.  

What fun we had so often with them!

When Family Lives Close.

When family lives close...

You stop byfor Saturday morning baking with niece and nephew.

When family lives close...

You call up Aunt Ruth for to schedule game night for two.

When family lives close...

You drop by Grandmas on a Sunday afternoon.

When family lives close...

You arrive on Aunt Pat's doorstep, hosting dinner for you.

When family lives close...

You boat with your siblings or take kids to the zoo.

When family lives close...

You meet parents for dinner, and Sunday lunch too.

When family lives close...

You have places and spaces

Always and immediately

Open to you.

You have hugs ever-waiting

And bonds ever-present

And people you love, who love you,

Close.

Oh how many days don't I wish that family lives close...

Prayer Works.

Trish and I read an incredible, instant classic last summer that melted itself into our heart and life.  A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller was intentional, narrative, poetic, simple, and profound all in one little blue wrapping.  But its impact on my life has far left the words scrolled on pages, and moreso imprinted itself in my world.

I was reminded of it last night, when my dear friend and Charlotte dad, J.D. Lawson was talking about prayers and tithing and money and philanthropy and hardship.  At a time in their life when tithing made the least 'sense', they started.  They were married and out of the military and now new Christians, when financially everything seemed to collapse.  But they felt called and convicted, so the giving began.

In the same season, he was alongside the road and his car broke down.  He was so angry he shoved the door open, smacked it closed, and hissed at the engine.   Then, in one movement he laid his hand on the engine and prayed over it, got back in the car and chugged away.  It wasn't until he stopped at the stop sign that he realized his car was even working.  And... prayer was working.

I left last nights table full of thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving for the comfort of the home of my Charlotte mom and dad, whose door is always open and in whose arms I can always find a hug.  Thanksgiving for the friendships that seem always available and open handed and happy and rejoicing in me.  And thanksgiving for the reminder that prayer does work, and God is involved in life, and Christians can encourage the faithful.

Thank you, JD, for being the faithful and encouraging me with your stories, and prayer.