Don't be troubled

"Don't be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me. There are many rooms in my Father's home, and I am going to prepare a place for you. If this were not so, I would tell you plainly. When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. And you know where I am going and how to get there." John 14:1-4.

"Don't be troubled." A command. Don't do it. Even when you feel like being troubled. Even when everything around you is crumbling down. Even when evidence tells you to panic. Even when having faith is the most difficult thing, don't be troubled.

"Don't be troubled." An encouragement. Yeah, it's tough and difficult and devastating and pain-filled, but don't be troubled. You have the faith in God to make it through. You have the resources of my Word and prayer and community. You can do this, too.

"Don't be troubled." An acknowledgement. I understand your wanting to panic, to scream, to cry. I see your pain, I feel your fear, I know your weakness, but don't be troubled. I'm here. I've been right where you are and not only can I identify and acknowledge, I have insight. It won't always be like this.

Don't be troubled. Don't be troubled. Don't be troubled. Don't be troubled.

Ask.

Ask.

Ask.

2 acts

An act of condemnation:

a simple story weaves through, like a ribbon of water cutting through the landscape. the players are few: a man, a woman, and God. The man and woman, roles defined, enjoyed beauty and abundance, love and purpose. And then temptation too strong to resist enters the picture; a snake offers the one fruit forbidden. The man and woman eat. shame begins.

what did that shame feel like? Was it deep and burning; embarrassing and uncomfortable. Indeed, it must have been because the whole human demeanor changed. They covered themselves to mask their shame. They ran away, they hid.

Did Adam realize the weight of that act of betrayal? That act of disobedience? Do any of us really comprehend the potential and the poisonous around us? And yet, this one act changed eternity.

An act of righteousness

another simple story, another act. One man, alone, this time, but no mere man-the God man who came. Jesus. And through his act of righteousness, he made all people right in God's sight, giving them life. No shame. No hiding.

Why do we act as though we are still condemned? Why do we hid? Why are we ashamed?

more questions than answers

"Therefore, since we have been made right in God's sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of highest privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God's glory. We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are food for us-they help us learn to endure. And endurance develops strength of character in us, and character strengthens our confident expectation of salvation." Romans 5:1-4.

How does this translate? What does this mean? take verse one: we have peace-this peace- does it apply to that moment of salvation, to that ideal of redemption with Christ. Will that peace carry me through the agonizing and gut-wrenching decision making of the mundane? Is it accurate to say, "yeah, I have peace in God through the Lord Jesus Christ, but the everyday agony-that's not peace filled. I'll celebrate that once-peace-at-conversion-moment and I'll long for that eternity-bliss-filled-peace, but here, now, I hold on to the thought of peace?"

And how does confidant, joy-filled-forward-looking-contrast to the struggle and reality of all the assaults. Is it an act? A role I play-just pretending it's splendid and magnificent when at it's core; it's fallen and wild and difficult and uncontrollable.

And endurance, this endurance, this posture of joy, this choice of peace, it's an expectation I must own even with the greatest difficulty? Isn't this too much? To not only account for challenge, but to acknowledge a manufactured joy through it? How do you live like that......faith bringing joy? This laughs in the face of the state of the world around me.

faith, being sure of what I hope for,

faith being certain of what I do not see

and this-what I hope for, and what I do not see-conjures up a facade/reality of peace?

how do I live like that?

Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five

Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five days have come and gone.

Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five mornings have dawned;

Some stormy and gray, others clear and bright.

Some snow-filled, others dew-laden, and still others hot and hazy.

Days of joy and of sorrow, of hope and of pain,

Days of trial and testing, of new strength,

Days of marriage.

The day it began was the hot-and-hazy kind of day. Filled with the flurry of anticipation, preparation; detail and detail falling into place. The dress, satiny white, the veil, the locket; all in place. The photographs, the hushed whispers, the anxiety of family meeting family meeting family. Two systems colliding to spin off an entirely new one, orbiting alone, yet strangely still connected.

And then, it passed.

Quicker and quicker the days have come,

faster and faster the years have gone;

until today.

We mark today at the nineteenth year.

And love has grown deep and strong,

the chord of three strands ever present,

the depth of knowledge even greater,

the awareness of sacrifice and delight,

ever brighter.

Happy six thousand nine hundred and thirty-fifth day.

Happy nineteenth year.

Happy Anniversary, darling!

by design

through the beauty and the fragility of the community, He designed

through the decision of a human, of humanity,

one by one, they must come on their own,

heeding the call, obeying the voice, surrendering the old and anticipating the new,

the potential of what could be must draw them forward.

It's His way.

And by design, she will rise up and be beautiful.

She will shine; brighter than we could imagine,

radiance gleaming, unearthly beauty surrounding,

She will shine.

The tarnish will fade,

the blemishes will heal,

the brokenness will be restored,

and She will shine.

by design, He called her to love.

by design, He requires her to forgive.

by design, He leads her to show them a better way.

by design, He asks that she be a peacemaker in a hostile land, a restorer in a place a distress, a healer in a time of illness and injury and depravation and death.

by design, He writes her name on His palm,

by design, He sings over her,

by design, He hopes and blesses and loves.....

And this begins in one heart,

with one voice,

rising up to call another voice to join in,

and another, and another

and the community rises up and

the bride of Christ is alive.

the house elf

when i was a little girl, i'd play this game with God. i was the house elf and only He could see what i was up to. i liked to clean, create a new space out of disorderly one, create a warm and welcoming environment out of a chaotic one. and so the game i played was to tidy up a room, a shelf, and place when no one was looking and see if others could figure it out. it was never about the reward of words of appreciation directed toward me. it was never about acknowledgement from a parent. it wasn't about brown nosing to get what i wanted. it wasn't manipulative driven. it wasn't for payment. it was a heart felt connection with God of pure joy; a private joy that others couldn't measure or comment on, that existed between God and me.

and so, quietly, in the sleeping times when others were snoring away, or out of the house; i'd tackle a corner, an entry way, a shelf that rarely made the chore list, that suffered neglect, that needed attention and i'd begin to work. singing to myself, imaging fairy dust being sprinkled about, cleaning until it glistened, polishing until it shined, i'd transform a space.

and then, as stealthily as i could, i'd slip back into the ranks of child number four, praying that i'd not be noticed or caught, because that took all the fun out of the game i was playing with God. a house elf that magically came to make my family's home a better place.

you see, i grew up in a family economy where chore lists were expected to be completed, and family responsibilities were instilled. going beyond the list, doing what i saw needed to be done without being asked, made the family system, in my mind, more exciting, more rewarding, more meaningful.

i served my family out of a purity of heart, eager to please, not needing reward, because that's how i could work out my child-like faith. and the high i experienced was one that couldn't be bought; it wasn't something i could eat or drink or own or smoke or get intoxicated by. it was a natural high of seeing a need, and being designed and gifted to fill that need without be asked. it was a game i played and i was joy filled in the role i occupied.

God's ways are not my ways

We were told today to dig ditches. That's God's way. Play some music and dig some ditches.

Ditch digging is smelly, hot, difficult, sweaty work.

It's the ditch digger that doesn't get acknowledgement.

It's the ditch digger whose muscles are sore.

It's the ditch digger who labors in the elements: the heat, the sun, the rain, the bugs, the thirst.

It's the ditch digger that works hard.

It's also God's way. And His ways are not my ways.

When the kings were thirsty, when their soldiers were parched, when their animal's health was threatened, they went to Elisha and he said:

"Oh, now you want God?" Really. I imagine a bit of sarcasm.

Then, Elisha wants music to be played. No kidding, I am not making this up.

Next, when weary and parched, Elisha prophesies that God is calling them to dig ditches.

Um. They are tired and thirsty. They could get sick digging ditches. They are defeated. This isn't the kind of motivational encouragement I imagine they were hoping for.

But wisely, dig ditches they did and by morning the valley was filled with life giving water.

2 Kings 3:9- 20.

Whoa. I'm weary. I feel unappreciated, devalued, ignored. I want to walk away. Give up.

And God is telling me to dig ditches. In the weariness, in the pain, in the rejection, in the overwhelming state of my union, God is calling me, inviting me, to dig ditches. Harder. Deeper. Stronger. Bigger. Relentlessly, earnestly, completely, obediently, dig.

hmmm....dig.

not the solution,

not the path,

not the way I was going to go, but ok.

I will. I do. Let me grab a shovel and I'll join you in that valley, Lord.