A wilderness of depression and pie...

Ten days ago I set out to walk in the wilderness with Jesus. I intended to join Him through 40 days of prayer and fasting, as He had at the beginning of His ministry, and leave behind my wilderness of depression; pursuing peace and rest with Him. (I want to note that I am also pursuing medical treatment and counseling for my depression - while I believe Jesus is the author of peace and rest, He also equips people with counseling skills and doctors that can help care for people in need.)

My fast was to have no solid food (including milkshakes or smoothies) before 5 pm each day. The goal was to have my hunger point me to being fulfilled in Christ instead of food. I wanted to see Him as having everything I need, instead of trusting in my own ability (or sugary carbs) to make me feel complete. My emptiness was not a condition of my stomach, but my soul and through prayer and contemplation I wanted to experience neediness in a way that would not be cured by my own hand.

After successfully completing a quarter of the fast, I wanted to reflect on my experience and I have noticed a few interesting things. First, your body can very quickly adjust to not eating. After only a few days, the lethargy, stomach cramps and crankiness went away. I was able to drink coffee and water and broth until 5pm without too much difficulty. Actually, the hardest part was smelling the bacon my husband fried up for his breakfast every morning!

For ten days I waited until 5pm on the dot, in spite of Christmas festivities and special activities. I could make a special breakfast for my kids and not snitch a single crumb. I was downright legalistic about the execution of my fast and felt very proud of myself.

Until I started noticing the change in my eating habits. Since I was fasting, I allowed myself the occasional loaded latte from Starbucks and called it coffee, thinking "sure it has lots of sugar in the flavor syrup, but I'm fasting. A little sugar and fat won't hurt me." I started eating things like Christmas cookies and pie at 5:01pm because I had gone all day without food. David and I went on 2 dates in 3 days because I was super hungry. I was fasting, of course we should get extra trips to our favorite Mexican restaurant (complete with margaritas and bottomless chips and salsa). I realized, I wasn't exercising a fast of going without - I was living a life of delayed gratification.

I'm not against holiday baking and I'm certainly not against margaritas, but my fast was initiated with the specific intent to experience neediness, want, emptiness, hunger, even pain. I wanted to be dependent. I wanted to stop looking to food as an emotional band-aide and find true healing in Christ. But after just a few days, I was back to my old mental practices of duct-taping my heart together with food and treats. My focus was no longer on the Good Shepherd, but on the green grass that could be found at 5:01pm just over that hillside. I was still wandering away from the Shepherd to fend for myself, rather than trusting Him to provide.

It's the age old problem with any type of sacrifice done from the wrong motivation. In Matthew 6 Jesus points to the hypocrisy of fasting, giving alms and prayer that are done out of a heart of self-righteousness and pride. When we do things to look good, looking good is our only reward. Ananias and Sapphira hold back part of their monetary gift and lie about it, bringing instant judgment from God in Acts 5. David speaks to the condition of his heart Psalm 51 stating that God didn't want his sacrifices and offerings, but "a broken and contrite heart".

The natural, fallen condition of our heart is one that wants to be able to claim self-sufficiency. Adam and Eve wanted the one thing God had not given them (for their own good), in a perfect garden where all their needs were supplied. The Israelites were saved from slavery and death and demanded a god their size, rather than a holy God that could shake the mountains with smoke and fire. Pharisees and scribes wanted a law with checkboxes rather than a true Savior. We would rather be white-washed tombs and die, than live a life of dependency.

I think a lot of us somewhat resent the imagery of being sheep. We think of sheep as stupid and clumsy. We resent the idea that Jesus might have to pick us up and carry us home or break our leg to keep us safe from ourselves. Yet all of history shows our inadequacy to be complete on our own. Even while experiencing perfect provision, we find a way to be discontent with God's best. But I don't think being a sheep means being stupid and clumsy. In the parable of the lost sheep (Luke 15) Jesus tells of a man who searches for one lost sheep and celebrates its return. The sheep is still uniquely created by God, given a purpose for its life, intentionally chosen by the Shepherd and celebrated when returned. Being a sheep doesn't mean we are stupid and incapable of expressing our purposes or ideas. Being dependent does not mean that we aren't gifted and talented.  Being a metaphorical sheep doesn't negate that we were created in the image of God Himself, full of love, creativity, intelligence, reason and beauty. Being a sheep just means that left to our own devices, we will choose to wander. And every person on the planet has proven it to be true.

One of my all-time favorite hymns reads " O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be. Let Thy goodness like a fetter bind my wandering heart to Thee. Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, O take and seal it. Seal it to Thy courts above."

The answer to my fasting dilemma is not to give up. It is not to further legalize my food intake ("just say no to chips and salsa and pie"). Rather, it is to bind my wandering heart to Him. It is to reaffirm my neediness and my wandering tendencies to my Good Shepherd. In Him are riches better than cookies and pie - in Him there is peace and rest. For this life and forever.

An uncommon call to follow

Richard Rohr writes in his daily devotional: "Christians prefer to hear something Jesus never said: "Worship me." Worship of Jesus is rather harmless and risk free; following Jesus changes everything."

I was completely blown away by the truth of this sentence. I think most people enjoy worship. We feel good about ourselves. We enjoy the group of people we are with. We hear, see and experience something that helps us feel recharged and better about facing the next week. Sometimes its the comfort of the ritual. Sometimes its the message of love and grace. Sometimes its the singing. Whatever connects to that person individually, Sunday morning worship is a gratifying experience.

Richard Rohr continues saying:
"I have often thought that this "non-preaching" of the Gospel was like a secret social contract between clergy and laity as we shake hands across the sanctuary. We agree not to tell you anything that would make you feel uncomfortable and you will keep coming to our services.....The discernment and call to a life of service, to a life that gives itself away instead of simply protecting and procuring in the name of Jesus, is what a church should be about. Right now, so much church is the clergy teaching the people how to become co-dependent with them. It becomes job security instead of true spiritual empowerment."

While I would not say that this is true about my specific church, I would agree that it is the feel of the American christian church. This idea of worshipping Jesus in corporate fashion (sponsored on the basis of those who attend) cannot help but involve some question of "what does my church want to hear, what add-ons (coffee, donuts, childcare, summer camps, social events, etc) will incentivize more people to come, what comforts do the people need to make this a priority in their weekend, when we are competing with sleep, sports, TV and a million other activities. As church has become another form of entertainment or at least a feel-good activity, the co-dependent relationship becomes a fundamental element of a church's priority. Does the bible make you feel uncomfortable, well, we don't have to read from that. Do sermons seem to drag on too long, we can shorten those up for you. Not exciting enough? We can renovate our space for bigger stages, more lights, better speakers and large glowing screens with streaming graphics and videos. Church becomes more like a concert or movie theater and less of a place that challenges you to live a life of sacrifice and submission.

But following Jesus.....wow. This is a call to complete dependence, not co-dependence. We bring nothing and look to Him for everything. We give up our false impression of control and depend on Him for setting our direction. His call dictates our actions. And He may call us to somewhere we don't want to go. He may speak to us things we don't want to hear. He may lead us places that make us uncomfortable. Following is the ultimate form of self-sacrifice. Once we have given up all control to Him, He can call us into those places where He will use us for His glory. In this place, it isn't about our comfort. It isn't about earthly success. It isn't about things that feed my pride and sense of self worth.

My son once said, "I'm not sure what that sin (referring to adultery) means, but I think I can avoid it by following Jesus. Jesus will never lead me to sin." He was probably 9 or 10 at the time but was able to translate the gospel into the simplest truth. Jesus will never lead me to sin. I don't need to be dependent on my own wisdom, I just need to follow. I don't need a list of do's and don'ts, I just need to follow. I don't need to see the bigger picture or understand my place in the grand design, I just need to follow.

Everything in our world tells us to avoid this type of dependence at all costs. Be your own person. No one can tell you who to be or what to do. Claim your own truth. Do what makes you happy. Take care of number one. The only person you can trust is yourself.

And yet, people end up in unhappy marriages, addicted to substances, working their lives away in jobs they don't like to buy things they don't need. The whole model of being a self-made person is lonely, empty and accumulates things that can be taken from you.

Jesus' model sets out to free us from ourselves - to free us from the lie that all we need is that next accomplishment, possession or relationship.

Worship is easy.

Following is simple, but not easy.

My Nana's Nails

I was looking in the store for the perfect color of nail polish the other day. I knew exactly what it was, as I had seen it on my Nana's nails all my life. Her perfect self made manicure was always fresh, never chipped and worked in every season.

I remember my own progression of nail polish going from bubble gum pink, to hot pink with glitter, to the requisite black of my teen years, to red hot during college and then an overpriced French manicure after landing my first real job. Throughout all of these transitions, Nana's nails remained the same; a mauvish dusty-rose color. This bottle of hers sat on an end table next to small fingernail clippers and an Emory board. At this same table her hands would pick up a juice glass of blush wine while reading the latest Dick Francis novel. These fingers would dog-ear the pages of her daily Guidepost devotional. They mended clothes and quilted in perfect little stitches. These fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time to the latest Michael W Smith cassette tape in her car or took notes on her seemingly endless yellow legal pads that covered nearly every surface of her dining room table. These were the fingers that rub the stain out of anything while a soft concentrated whistle escaped her lips. These fingers wrote letters and cards to her loved ones, tightly gripped a zip line over her brothers lake and held boarding passes to Costa Rica and Paraguay to visit her family who were serving as missionaries overseas. Later in life, those fingers gently stroked her cats, turned pages in quilt magazines and cheered Derek Jeter with each run scored. In her last days, in hospice care, my mother-in-law kept those nails manicured, knowing that it kept a part of her present, even though she was slipping away from us. It’s amazing how thinking of her hands reminds me of so many things she did. She was a woman of amazing accomplishments, but what she did was not the same as who she was. 

When I think about the choice of color, that subtle mauve lacquer, I think about who she was. She was a woman who spent most of her life working in a man’s world. Long before it was cool to be sexy and smart, she could manage with strength in an Anne Taylor suit paired with slingback heels. She could stand shoulder to shoulder with the male leaders in a Fortune 500 company, dressed in timeless suit separates, elegant jewelry, and a perfectly coiffed perm. She wasn’t vain, but in her wisdom, she knew she was being judged not only on her work, but on her work “as a woman”. She would never be viewed (or paid) equally with her male counterparts, regardless of how consistently she performed her work at the highest caliber. She knew she had to look feminine enough to be the token woman when required, but most days she was simply doing her job well. She needed to portray grace and strength. Femininity and authority. Every inch a woman, but just as professional as a man. Navigating these elements in the 80’s and 90’s looked different than it does today, although I’m not sure the glass ceiling has budged that much. She was my role model as a professional woman, a business woman, a female leader even in male dominated industries. 

I’ve worked in engineering, management and leadership in academia - each surrounded by men and often in positions of authority. There are countless times that I’ve faced a situation at work and thought to myself, “what would Nana do?”. When I first started in industry, Nana spoke frankly into my work life, boldly telling me when my skirt was too short, my heels to high or my attitude too cocky. She gave me healthy doses of realism to counter my utopian text book view of the world. She gave me wisdom for interpersonal relationships, from the lowest paid part timer through the CEO. She wanted me to learn from her success but was humble enough to share with me her mistakes. Her nail polish choice is a perfect example of how she found balance in so many situations throughout her life.

I painted my nails mauve with a smile on my face, with wonderful memories of my Nana and hopes that I have made her proud. 

A Few Hours of Uncommonness

Sunday I was a klutz and ended up with a badly sprained ankle. That day and the next were characterized by ice, rest, ace bandages and watching my ankle swell and turn 6 shades of purple. It wasn’t broken and thankfully, I was blessed with family who immediately dropped what they were doing to help me heal. Tuesday I had several work related meetings that had to happen, but once again was supported with people driving me places and taking care of all the household duties to minimize my time on my feet. The ankle continued to ache when I put weight on it and stairs were absolutely miserable. I began a form of limp/hopping which was tiring, but not as painful. However, Wednesday I had to travel to Orlando for work. Once again, people pitched in to make the process as easy as possible and my coworkers were very thoughtful about our schedule, giving me an extra chair to prop my foot on during the meeting and moving our meals to locations that were closer to the hotel so I didn’t have to hop so far. While my leg was feeling better, the long walks in the terminals in Orlando and Indy, carrying a heavy bag over my shoulder didn’t sound like fun. So, just like the flight from Indianapolis, I asked for a wheelchair in Orlando when I got my boarding pass. This process meant having an airline worker push me in a wheelchair through the airport (including the expedited line through security) and leaving me at the gate with a priority board pass. I would be the first on the plane, choose any seat I wanted and have a wheelchair waiting for me in Indianapolis waiting to take me to the curb. However, unlike the flight   to Indy, where I waited about 45 minutes in the chair, in Orlando I was going to wait over four hours.

Placed by the windows, I quickly saw that moving around was going to be hard. I rolled my wheelchair up to a blocked aisle way and asked the woman if she could momentarily move her things so I could get to the bathroom. Not only did she move her stuff, she offered to push me all the way to the ladies room. I quickly accepted her help and appreciated her maneuvering skills to the wider aisles of the airport. However, once positioned near the stall, she left me on my own.

I came out of the restroom and got back in my chair. Part of me knew I could hobbled around more easily than try to spend the next hours in a wheelchair, but another part of me wanted to know what it was like to experience this type of hardship, even just for a few hours.

My cousin as Cerebral Palsy and spent much of his youth in a wheelchair. As a kid, I was jealous of the attention it brought him, how he got moved to the front of the line immediately and how his therapy sounded awesome, like horseback riding and swimming. But I knew his life, which will most likely end tragically early as his body slowly shuts down, was not all about people serving him. This experiment was in no way meant to trivialize people with disabilities, but rather help me better appreciate what so many disabled people have to live with their whole lives.

First, everyone stares at you. Everyone. I’ve got an air cast on my leg, so it doesn’t take them long to figure out “what’s wrong with me” but they make no effort to disguise that they are searching for the reason I am sitting in this chair. There is a very real sense of being examined by almost everyone who walks by. Not only do they stare at you, they stare DOWN at you. Sitting in this chair, everyone expect the smallest children are taller than me. This downward gaze reflected pity, curiosity, judgment and even drew a few smirks.

Second, you have to ask for help. I rolled myself from the ladies room to the snack area, knowing I wouldn’t get to eat again until very late tonight. The aisle ways in the airport convenience store were not wide enough for my chair and I couldn’t reach anything except the shelf right at arm level. To get a  chobani yogurt, a fruit cup and a bottle of Pellegrino required me asking the clerk to get these things for me. She quickly responded as was very pleasant and helpful, but I quickly noticed that despite all the ADA laws, the stores and dining facilities within the airport were not wheelchair accessible.

This led me to another quick realization. ADA laws provide minimum requirements and most establishments tend towards that minimum. While the people who pushed my wheelchair for me were able to navigate the aisles pretty easily, wheelchairs require skill. The woman who helped push me to the bathroom bumped me into several walls and trashcans, as she was a novice at pushing wheelchairs. When I was pushing myself, I could barely navigate the bathroom aisle way and curved door. Yes, the wheelchair could technically fit, but it was by no means spacious. I was struggling to move around and wondered how fast the wheelchair learning curve is for most people.

I decided to take a trip to Starbucks. This involved wheeling myself about a quarter of a mile to the Starbucks location, at the far end of the food court. Within just a few minutes, I was tired and my arms were aching. Thankfully, I received a work phone call and got a 13 minute break while talking on the phone before moving forward. Rolling my own wheelchair meant I could only do that one thing. Both hands were occupied and my full concentration and physical effort was on my movements. I learned quickly that short rotations of the wheels was easier than long pushes and that this wheelchair favored the left side, requiring me to constantly realign towards the right to go in a straight line. While some people moved for me, there were lots of oblivious people who nearly ran into me because they were walking quickly and not looking down. At Starbucks, it was obvious that their line was not going to work for me. It wound back and forth, which would require four 180 degree turns. Even if the aisles were wide enough (which I highly doubted) I was not skilled enough to travel through them. So instead, I waited for everyone in line to clear out of the way and then rolled up through the exit. Once I ordered, I had to back up blindly, trying not to hit their shelves and signs positioned near the line to try to inspire impulse purchases. With no seating area near the Starbucks, I decided to roll all the way back to the gate and was determined to do it without stopping. I was becoming a better navigator in the chair, but once again, my arms were quickly tired and I was forming blisters on my left hand, which had to grip the wheel more tightly due to the poor alignment issues. Once back at the gate, I was happy to lock my wheels and enjoy the well-earned spoils of my efforts. My apple watch registered my accelerated heart rate and gave me exercise credit for the effort required to move just a half mile round trip. The whole trip (not including my 13 minute phone call) was 22 minutes. At least twice as long as it would have taken me if I had been walking.

Having exhausted myself, I was now content to sit and read while I waited for the boarding of my plane to begin. After another hour of just sitting and reading, I realize that the Starbucks has created a need to go back to the ladies room one more time before boarding the plane. I roll myself into the restroom to discover the handicap stall is closed. I decide that is more important that I don’t wet my pants, rather than stick to my experiment, so I go ahead and stand up and hop into a regular stall, leaving my chair in the middle of the aisle. It strikes me as a small luxury – standing. My backside feels heavy in this stiff chair with my 25 pound luggage living on my lap. Standing gives not only my butt a break, but also my shoulders, hips and back. My left hand is red and raw from the awkward grip on the chair wheel and pressure to keep me on course. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable the other parts of me where, being confined to this chair for the past 3.5 hours. My thoughts quickly go to my cousin and so many others who live their lives in wheelchairs. They can’t just choose to stand. They can’t decide life is too inconvenient or uncomfortable in their chair. They aren’t allowed to get tired of it.

This week I met a new coworker and over dinner she heard the story of my pregnancies, David’s deployments and all the challenges we faced during those years. She marveled at what we had been through and said “I will never again complain about raising my 20 month old, while we both enjoy our health and my husband comes home every night.” It was a sweet comment, but the truth is, she will. Just like I swore to never take for granted my husband’s presence after years of being apart. And yet, I do. My normal now, like so many others, is normal. Everything seems stable – jobs, kids, family, friends. Yet, just 4 hours in this chair makes me think about the great health I have been given and simple freedoms I enjoy. To stand. To walk. To function in a space that is so obviously designed for those of us that take for granted our health, while those that struggle have reminders everywhere they go that this world was not made to accommodate them. I can’t help but wonder if I had been born with a disability, would I ever truly feel normal? Could I ever fully accept and embrace my difficulties, while the majority of people pass me by with a pitiful glance?

My 4 hours is a drop in a bucket, but for me, I pray that I can love a little more deeply, serve a little more quickly, and be thankful in all circumstances. 

The Ongoing Challenge

I've started up on the Whole Life Challenge again. This was the breakthrough event of earlier this year that led to me seeing new levels of discipline, self-control and huge gains in life. I loved the challenge and I won for our Crossfit Box. I was so excited to get back on the challenge in May that I immediately began recruiting people to join me.

So we are now a few weeks into the challenge and I am doing horribly. In fact, I think I am doing worse now than when I was in between challenges. It's really started to make me mad and so I have had to reflect on why this is happening. The answer, as plain as day, is also the ugly truth.

I haven't engaged any mental or spiritual components to the challenge yet.

Going into January's challenge, I would pray about it. I would think about it. I would journal about it. Every morning I had a challenge reflection journal (not the required reflection post, but my own personal journal) where I mentally prepared to face the day. I wanted to win the challenge and I was making the effort (spiritual, metal and physical) to bring about that reality.

We have all grown up in a world, much like Ancient Rome, where the present is elevated and life is about feeling happy in the moment. The concept of an orgy was not just sexual to the Romans. They would have feasting parties where the goal was to eat everything they could until the vomited and then eat some more. They would drink to excess using the same process. To win over the masses (who were impoverished and dying of disease and hunger) they would hold games in the colosseum and feed everyone who attended for free. They distributed bread and held massive parties open to the public during the Triumphs of Julius Caesar. Food was not food - food was a celebration. Food was medicine. Food was comfort. And we live in a culture that is a stone's throw away from this same perspective. All commercials tell you to indulge in what's bad for you, because you deserve it. There is no more concept of self-control as a virtue - the virtue celebrated in our culture is instant gratification. So we American's as a culture throw away 40% of our food (just think of any restaurant if you think this number seems to high) and we eat whatever we feel like at the time.

The challenge goes toe to toe with this idea and says, eat what will actually make your body work well and feel good over the long haul. The challenge gives indulgence points to make room for those times that there are special things to celebrate (birthdays and weddings and the occasional date night) but holds us accountable to doing what is right instead of what feels right, right now. You don't have to read very many writings of Paul to see him address these same issues in scripture. Self-control is often found in lists describing what a Spirit led life looks like. Paul grew up in those times of Roman excess - he saw the culture around him and knew that it was hard to resist. He knew that the human interaction with food, in that type of culture - our type of culture, is a spiritual battle, not a battle of the flesh.

The owner of Crossfit Uncommon, Pete, really started to get frustrated as the challenge went on, reading posts of people talking about indulging in some forbidden food and then paying the price the next day in their workout or by how they felt. He wrote that knowledge was the key to help yourself make better choices - knowing what the food does to your body will keep you from eating it.

I think of Josh or Bunny or any of the other people we know with allergies and we would never give them food that makes them sick. Yet I willing eat yummy food that I know will make my stomach hurt later all the time. I've struggled with my weight, with arthritic inflammation, headaches and depression. Food directly impacts all of these. A clean diet (and Paleo diet in my case) dramatically helps each of these issues. And yet I give into my cravings for Chumleys, for Poblanos, for the extra glass of wine, and so on and so on.

This battle we have is not with food - it is with ourselves and our fallen nature. This culture we live in is nothing new - it just has new ways of promoting itself with the internet and portable electronic devices. The same God Paul relied on through his process of dying to himself to live for Christ is the same God we serve. The same Spirit that gave him strength is indwelling us.

Now, I'm not trying to beat anyone over the head with spiritual guilt. But I am wanting to be very clear with myself - and anyone else who finds this helpful - this challenge or any other challenge in life, is not meant to be faced alone. It is meant to be done through the power of the Holy Spirit in reliance on Him. It is meant to be done in prayer. It is meant to be done in community. I now put this out into the atmosphere - I will have perfect points for the remainder of the challenge. Not because God expects perfection - but because in His strength, it is possible.

Challenge accepted. Again.

A day off..

Today I am taking a day off from life.

I've been trying to come down with some sort of cold, but even though I don't feel measurably worse, I decided to take a day off from life. Because every once in awhile we don't need to be a person.

I've been binge watching "Parenthood" while grading seemingly infinite stacks of papers, just because I can't seem to keep my focus without noise in the background. This show has captivated my attention (admittedly much more than my students papers) because of the simple way of telling the story of people living life.

I watch what my husband has deemed a "happy-go-lucky chick show" and pondered why I care so much about these fictional people. This large family walks through ordinary situations of bullying, marital stress, holidays, rebellious teenagers and other every day things in an awkward, backwards, fumbling and apologetic way. It's life - ordinary, every day life.

And so today, I take a break from my to-do list and goals and schedule and instead revel in finishing my grading and clearing out my email in-box and stay all day in my yoga pants. When my last grades were entered, I pulled out a mostly empty pint of cookies and cream ice cream and dug around with my spoon selecting the largest chunks of cookie that I could find.

And so I sit  - on the couch - having eaten a lot of ice cream (which will probably come back to haunt me later) - watching someone else's story, while I press pause on my story.

This morning as I read in Hebrews 10:23, it says "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." This verse made me think about how the story line of our lives is wrapped up in the identity of who Christ is - not in ourselves. We spend our days walking through our schedules, checking off our lists and trying to make the most of each day. But the truth is that we spend our days trying to do things that are meaningful, but the deepest meaning comes from the fact that God is faithful. I can take a day off and it doesn't make me less of a person - it doesn't make me a failure; because who I am is not the same as what I do.

Parenthood is a great show of a loving family and their ups and downs, but the anxiousness that runs through their lives is because their family is all they have. Their faith is in each other - which means the ups and downs of the relationships completely rocks their lives. And yet for us, we have a hope without wavering - nothing that rocks us. The author of Hebrews also states that this hope is "an anchor for our soul".

I picture a ship out in the ocean - the waves and the storm may rock the ship and cause it to toss and turn in really scary ways. But when your confidence is in an anchor that is sure and unwavering, the storms won't undo you - they may shake you and drench you in cold salt water, but you won't be undone.

I spent a long time living as if my to-do list was all I ever had to offer and the way to justify my time. I could say I mattered, because I could point to all the ways I was indispensable. I desperately wanted to stop, but I was afraid if I stopped I wouldn't be deserving of anyone's love anymore. But since I've discovered what it means to have an anchor for your soul, I can have a day off. I don't have to produce - I don't have anything to prove. Ice cream and strechy pants work just fine for me.

Uncommon Wealth

Yesterday was my 38th birthday. I must admit, it was one of the best birthdays I have ever had in my life. The day started waking up to a beautiful 70 degree morning with a perfectly blue sky and a view of desert blooms and cacti growing over the hills surrounding us. We then discovered an amazing breakfast nook, enjoyed a spring training game of the Cubs and then ate dinner outdoors (again with that perfect 70 degree weather and slight breeze) with the view of the desert during dusk and the "world famous" fountain of fountain hills. Driving through the townships surrounding Phoenix, you can see amazing wealth of palatial homes and poverty of crowded trailer parks with barely the space to breathe between one mobile home to the next. Between the people struggling to find work and those who have retired into a life of luxury, David and I enjoyed a day that is probably one of the most perfect days of my life.

Over the past few months, I have become more and more aware of my incredible wealth in this life. Between studying about deep intimacy with the Holy Spirit and diving ever more deeply into the love of God described in 1 Corinthians 13, I have experienced a type of awakening to the reality of my life. In the normal day to day habits of work and chores and disciplining kids, it can be easy to overlook the blessings that infuse each day. At the beginning of January, I very intentionally pursued seeing God move in the every day of life. I wanted a better understanding of what it meant to experience the "life to the full" that Jesus intends for His people. I knew the indwelling of the Spirit was supposed to be more than the few moments of peace and reflection during my daily quiet time. God promised His continual presence and I wanted to know what that tangibly looked like in an overfilled schedule of modern day America. 

In Ephesians 3, Paul writes : For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God. (Eph 3:14-19)

This amazing passage has been described by Tim Keller as a passage to instruct us on how to meditate on the richness of God's love. That we would examine God's love to try to explore its breadth, and length and height and depth. The picture I always imagine comes from sitting on the balcony of a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, when you can't see any other land. How could one possible measure the depths and breath of such vastness? How could one ever fully comprehend all that it holds and the depths beyond where we can see? Like that ocean, God's love is endless - it bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Cor 13:7). 

This uncommon wealth comes from the riches of His glory - an endowment from God Almighty to His beloved children. His desire is to strengthen our inner selves to better be filled with the fullness of His love. We are incapable of experiencing the fullness of His love without first being strengthened in our inner selves. And that is the journey I have enjoyed over the past few months that led me to this moment of extraordinary gratitude and contentment. In pursuing strength and discipline and self control (through the Holy Spirit - certainly not in my own effort) God has prepared in my heart a fertile soil in which He can grow my comprehension of His love. 

This isn't that God loves me any more - for His love is always perfect and boundless. But now, He is preparing in me the ability to better receive His love. He is opening my eyes to see His graciousness in the everyday. He is softening my heart to experience His presence in the ordinary and underwhelming nature of life. He is opening my ears to hear the sweet love song He sings over me, instead of being caught up in the noise of our culture. He is stripping away the walls that have held Him at arms distance, to better experience His embrace.

We must first be strengthened or we would collapse under the substantial weightiness of His perfect love. Like Moses in the cleft of the rock, we must be shielded from the glory of God, until the day comes where we are made like Him and can see Him face to face. This world is filled with things and stuff that distract us, entertain us, please us, fill us, disappoint us, hurt us and always, whether seemingly good or bad, leave us empty and wanting more. But God has a richness that cannot be measured on a balance sheet or bank account. The supernatural glory of His love is beyond what anything made with human hands can contain. Even our own spirits, made in the nature of God Himself, cannot fully experience all He wants to give...yet. But as we more and more open ourselves to Him, we can know His riches, no matter where life has you now.

May you know God's rich love even more deeply today....