Posted by: Kara Luker | April 18, 2019

Active trust

My worst fear has come to pass. Cole is gone. He took his life yesterday. I keep waiting to wake up; hoping it is some awful dream that will be over soon. But it would seem that it is real and all the surrender has led to this point – of truly handing him over to the Lord.
-Journal entry from 7/31/18

I have no idea why I started thinking about Abraham when I was driving the other day. But right there, behind my steering wheel on Red Hill Avenue, something registered that I’d never thought about before. Abraham’s ability to so quickly and wholly offer up his promised son in response to God’s command was not because trust had suddenly appeared in that crucial moment of choice, but because trust had been built through a thousand and one other moments of surrender… enabling him to act upon, rather than wrestle with, delay or altogether reject God’s command. I am certainly no Abraham, but I do understand the kind of trust that is built on a lifetime of surrenders – some seemingly insignificant; some clearly insurmountable – enabling a ready response to the Lord’s voice.

Last May, Cole casually texted that he might be removed from his job on the sub for a while “because of sanity reasons.” When I probed further, trying to hold back from an all-out assault of questions, he said the Navy was finally addressing the depression he had been struggling with. He answered a few more questions – yes, he was seeing a doctor and no, he couldn’t talk on the phone – before going totally silent. No more responses. No more answers.

He was all the way across the country in an all-consuming military world I just didn’t understand. I didn’t want to make his life harder by reaching out to his superiors – not that I would have known how to contact them anyway. And he hadn’t given me the numbers of his roommates. I felt completely helpless. Panic set in.

I went into full-on mama bear mode, as Cole later teased, bullying him to call me; telling him I was looking up plane tickets that very moment and was going to show up on his doorstep and not leave until I knew he was okay. I meant it and didn’t care for a second that fear was leading the charge. One of my friends responded to my SOS text with an invitation to pray together in the morning. After the tormented night I spent fearing for Cole’s life, it couldn’t come soon enough.

I don’t think it’s possible to explain what transpired that morning during the time of worship and prayer with my friend. All I can say is that heaven came down and emptied itself into that place. The voice of fear echoing through my mind was completely silenced and the atmosphere of my heart was transformed from panic to peace. The Lord’s direction came so sweetly and clearly. With my whole being, I knew I wasn’t supposed to race out to Virginia to rescue Cole. Instead, I was to surrender him – again – to the Lord I had learned to trust through this very role as his mom. Yes, the stakes were higher than ever, but God had never failed me.

So I followed up the harried texts from the night before with ones of release and encouragement, letting Cole know that I loved him more than ever; that I would be in Virginia in a heartbeat or do anything to help him if he needed and wanted, but that I wasn’t going to force my way into his world. I released him from my demand for a phone call – even the one I requested for Mother’s Day – and gave him the numbers of a few family friends he trusted, encouraging him him to reach out to someone. I followed up with the question, “You wouldn’t consider hurting yourself, would you? Because there is nothing we can’t help you untangle.” He didn’t respond, but it was okay this time because there was no fear present. Of course fear tried to come back in. It always does. But I had my mandate from heaven and knew from experience that only by remaining in a surrendered place would I truly be able to hear the Lord’s voice and act upon any instructions, be they to step in or to step back… both of which require heavenly wisdom and active trust.

Mother’s Day came and by some miracle, I was able to hear my phone ring over the din of Disneyland rides, voices and tantrums. It was my boy, calling me out of love, not duty. He sounded so far from the person I knew, almost robotic, saying “They broke me, mom. I’m broken.” But by the end of our conversation, nearly 2 hours later, Cole – my Cole – had emerged. He was so soft, telling me that he missed being able to talk to me when he’d learned something new, even when I didn’t understand or care. I agreed that I usually didn’t understand but that I always cared and I missed it too. “Please call me whenever that happens,” I said. “Otay,” he responded in the childlike voice he often used with me. And he found his humor again, like his normal self. When I told him that his call was the best gift I’d ever gotten, he joked about how low the bar had been set that a single phone call would rank so high.

We didn’t talk on the phone again until the 4th of July when I called him and – what?! – he actually answered. He had been meaning to call, he said, to let me know that he had been removed from the sub and put on limited duty with easy jobs and normal work hours that actually gave him time to breathe. He had started on antidepressants and was finding his life again, engaging in hobbies and planning for the future. He said wasn’t doing great, but was so much better. And holy cow, did he ever sound better. I told him how proud I was of him. We hung up two hours later and I breathed a sigh of deep relief. We’d made it through. He was going to be okay.

The next news of him I received was carried by the Naval officers who showed up at my door just a few weeks later. I have some guesses about what happened in between the call and the news, but don’t – and may never – know for sure. His roommate said he had been talking about his future that very day. What I do know is that I was confused. The Lord had told me to let go. I was sure of it. But it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Surrender had always played out for me with a happy ending.

On a bike ride with my family one day, I said to the Lord, “But you said to trust you and I did.” He spoke so clearly into my heart, “Have I ever – even once – squandered your trust?” The answer was a resounding, “No. Not even once.” “So do you think that I would squander it now, when you have entrusted me with your most precious gift?” “No. You wouldn’t. I know you. You wouldn’t do that.” Peace washed over my heart. Not because I understood in that moment why God didn’t have me intervene or didn’t intervene Himself (although He spoke something to me about that since then), but because He has shown me over years and years of friendship how immense His love is, how unfailing His character is and how perfect His wisdom is. The many times I wondered what I would do when I woke up from this nightmare – maybe double-up on mama bear vigilance and race out to Virginia? – it was this bedrock of God’s goodness in my life and the fact that He has proven Himself trustworthy in every possible instance that caused me to think that I would continue on this path of prayer and trust.

But after hours spent putting together the slideshow for Cole’s memorial service, I collapsed in brokenhearted tears and said aloud, “I just can’t reconcile these pictures of this sweet, smiling boy with this horrific outcome.” God gently directed me to a journal entry from a few days after the prayer time with my friend. I have no memory of writing it, but it said, “There have been a whole lot of tears as I’m once again having to lay him on the altar. At the same time, I saw it so clearly as the right direction from the Spirit that I could trust that even if Cole were to take his life, God would reconcile even that.” God would reconcile it. Not me. I can’t. There is no way ever. But somehow He can. And He was even gracious enough to plant that in my heart ahead of time.

In Hebrews it says that, “Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death.” In a manner of speaking, I too have received Cole back from death. He is living in a resurrected body, covered by the blood and perfect love of Jesus, removed forever from death’s reach. Which is why, I think, it feels so very right to release his ashes this Sunday, on Easter. It is a whole other level of surrender and I have been in tears all week, but it is a declaration of trust in the unfailing hope I have in what Jesus accomplished through His death and resurrection, not just for Cole’s life in heaven, but for mine here… and a celebration of the day that I too will inhabit my resurrected body and celebrate the Lord’s victory over death with Cole, my precious son and friend.

empty tomb

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 10, 2019

Who told you that?

My last post wasn’t the only time I was lured by the siren call of physical perfectionism. On another occasion, I was hit unexpectedly in the lobby of the optometrist’s office while looking for new frames for my rarely-worn glasses. Mirrors were scattered on the walls, catching light from the windows and illuminating my reflection. I saw myself clearly, for the first time it seemed. Middle-aged. Wrinkled. Unacceptable. Shame washed over me, knowing that everyone else had already seen what was only now in focus for me. Before leaving that lobby twenty minutes later, I had already booked an appointment for botox injections.

Unlike my cancelled breast implant surgery, entitlement (and shame) helped me follow through with the less permanent “improvement” of botox. After the bruising around my eyes healed and the toxins got to work paralyzing my facial muscles, I felt less naked; less uncovered. It was liberating in a sense. But it also felt fraudulent and I knew that the acceptance I could now grant myself was temporary and conditional.

I was in my home one day during this time – I can remember exactly where – when I heard the quiet voice of the Lord speak into my heart. “Who told you that?” I knew He was talking about what I had heard in the optometrist’s office, and recognized the reference to Adam and Eve in the garden when He asked a similar question: “Who told you you were naked?” Just like me, their “eyes had been opened” and suddenly they saw their nakedness, and they too were filled with shame.

But what came before their eyes were “opened”? Accusation. Words from a sneaky serpent casting shadows on the goodness of God and His provision for them. Clearly, He was withholding something – something that would benefit them; that they now thought they needed; that would make them like Him. It was convincing. But it was deceptive.

Like a loving father, God had given them everything they needed for a peaceful and fruitful life in the garden and for unadulterated relationship with God, each other and nature. His single “don’t” was for their protection and even that He didn’t withhold, given them free will to choose. Lastly and maybe most importantly, Genesis 1 tells us that “God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” They had no need to eat of any fruit to become like Him. They were already like Him.

But once they had come into agreement with an accusation that said otherwise, receiving it as truth, self-reliance naturally followed. If indeed God was withholding something good and necessary, then certainly they were entitled to take it for themselves. And so came that treacherous bite of fruit when sin entered into creation. Their eyes, which had only been able to see good, were now opened to see evil… as promised. They were overcome with shame and fear.

Their response was to cover up their nakedness – and thus their shame – and to hide for fear of being found out. The unclothed intimacy between Adam and Eve, as well as their undivided communion and trust with their Father was broken. Accusation now became part of their own vocabulary as they deflected blame from themselves; directing it instead toward each other and their perfect Father.

Here’s the thing. Genesis 2 says, “And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.” They had been naked all along. That was never the problem. My wrinkles were never the problem. Your failures or weakness or shortcomings were never the problem. The problem is that we have agreed with an accusation that says we are not acceptable without becoming… beautiful, thin, good, successful, admired, capable, strong, independent, intelligent… or whatever it is that lures us into a sense of security outside of our identity as loved children of a good Father.

If we don’t believe that we are enough as we are, it means that God has failed us in some way – a far more damaging accusation – which entitles us, like Adam and Eve, to take for ourselves what He hasn’t given. This self-reliance removes us from the perfect provision of the garden that exists only through childlike trust in our Father. Like my botox experience, it might be temporarily liberating but it is, in reality, nothing but striving. It won’t cause us to be what we aren’t. It won’t eradicate the shame. All it will do is cover it up for a while with fig leaves that will die and keep dying and need to be replaced over and over again, all the while nurturing the belief that caused the it in the first place. And yet, we will be afraid of being seen without the leaves because that is where our shame lurks. We will never know if the love and acceptance we receive is because of who we truly are or the facade we’ve created. 

What if our happiness doesn’t lie in “becoming,” but in returning to the garden? Where we can rest in who we already are and receive the goodness and provision of our loving Father. Where we are naked and unashamed. Unafraid. Unhidden. With unbroken communion between each other and our Dad. It’s what we were made for. We will never find peace, happiness or wholeness anywhere else. It is the only place where striving can cease; where we can come out of hiding and drop every fig leaf. Because Jesus Christ has covered our every sin, weakness, failure and shortcoming… every bit of shame and every vestige of fear. He has made us righteous and given us free access to the garden through faith. What could I possibly take for myself that could be more beautiful than that?

Garden of Eden

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 3, 2019

The voice of love

There was a time I was going to get breast implants. I wasn’t just toying with the idea. It was nearly a done deal. The surgeon had been chosen, the deposit had been made and the surgery was scheduled for a few weeks later. But then the tears came. And they wouldn’t stop. A voice that had been barely audible, easily dismissed for so many years, came riding on the rising water, getting louder with with each thrust of the current, saying “This isn’t who I am!”

It wasn’t unlike the increasingly desperate shouts of the speck’s inhabitants in Horton Hears a Who –  “We are here! We are here! We are here!” – finally breaching the surface, enabling them to be heard and saved. I’d heard the voice of my true heart and knew I couldn’t go through with the surgery, no matter how foolish and melodramatic I felt. But there was the problem of the nonrefundable deposit. And the let-down of having to continue parading around in a body the world doesn’t applaud. There was also the fear that I would be disappointing someone else – an even harder reality to face.

In the swirling midst of this process, I talked to my dad on the phone. It was about something else entirely, but I brought up the surgery, thinking he already knew. Apparently he didn’t. His response held no judgment; only love, compassion and a touch of sadness. There was no lecture on the health risks involved or on the unnecessary expenditure of money. Instead, he said, “But you’re beautiful… as you are.” You guys, it broke me. Released me from the spell. Gave me courage. In that moment, the need to become this thing I think I should be instead of resting in who I am evaporated. I was loved and accepted and, if I’m honest, that was the whole point of the surgery.

Is my dad biased? Absolutely. What a powerful thing that is. He doesn’t see me as a sum of body parts and facial features or value me by my achievements or success. His vision for me is filtered by his love for me. They are inseparable. Because of that, I was released on that day to be the real me, imperfections and all. And that, I am coming to see, is what is truly beautiful. Not the shell we call beauty but the life and love that pours out through all the cracks in the shell… in direct response to the glorious safety of being loved.

I know not everyone has heard kind words like my dad spoke to me, but it is just a tiny glimpse of the way our heavenly Dad loves all of us. Talking to Him and hearing His heart for us will release us from the grip of performing and dispatch us into the courage and freedom of being ourselves. And there is no doubt in my mind that as we enter in, others will find courage and freedom to do the same because that’s how love rolls.

To wrap up my story, I was overwhelmingly relieved when I cancelled the surgery. It was a joyous occasion for me. The person I thought would be so disappointed was heartbroken over my perceptions and our bond deepened as a result. I did lose some money, but what a small price to pay. I have never once regretted choosing to listen to the voice of love.

Freedom

Please know that I hold no judgment toward anyone who has gotten implants or any other kind of improvements. There is no shame in love. And no matter what we’ve done or not done, God can ALWAYS loose us into the freedom of our true identity. 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | March 24, 2019

The broken road and greatest treasure

IMG_8305

Me and my boy


A day or two after Cole died, I told my mom through tears, “He was my greatest treasure.” Having a husband and two other children I love so deeply, it seemed wrong to say. But it felt true. “I know,” she responded with great compassion.

It’s not that I loved him more, but the sweet presence of that little boy in my life effortlessly unlocked a heart that considered itself incapable of any good thing, most of all love. I desperately wanted the best for him, but didn’t have it to give, so I became anchored to the process of transformation and found freedom and joy on so many fronts – and a deeper bond with this boy than I thought possible. Because of Cole, I learned how to love. And began to know how to be loved. He changed my everything.

But I’ve learned something these past 7 months since losing him. He wasn’t my greatest treasure. He was part of the beautiful, broken road that led me to my truest and greatest treasure, Jesus. What an amazing gift and significant purpose. It makes me love and appreciate him so much more. But it also makes me want to pour out all that I am and have in the One whose value exceeds all others and secures an abundance for me… even when all else is lost.

Because Jesus is the keeper of the lost. The One who sets all things right. The only safe place to invest anything – and everything – of value. So for now, in this life, I will walk with the sweetest joy and truest love that I found in Jesus through His gift of this remarkable boy. And I will look forward to the day when Cole and I get to share the road again, completely unbroken this time.

“Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found, and hid. In his joy, he goes and sells all that he has, and buys that field.”  Matthew 13:44

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Posted by: Kara Luker | March 22, 2019

The purest water

Georgia MistOne day several years ago, I was standing in the misty, green hills of Georgia, drinking in the fresh air and beautiful surroundings. From my mouth poured earnest gratitude for nature and how unbelievably nourishing and refreshing it is to my soul. I will never forget the response the Lord spoke into my heart: “That is exactly what my people are supposed to be in this world: A drink of fresh, pure water, just like nature is to you.”

It thrilled me to think that we could be that kind of refreshment to others. I mean, wow! But I also saw in that moment that what we give has to be pure. Our own understanding and opinions will inevitably pollute what we give and turn people away from the true nourishment that comes from the untainted love and wisdom of God.

But we were made for this. Our innermost being has a constant flow of living water that will never run out. It will always quench and revive us when we walk to the river’s edge and feel its spray on our face, hear its roar, watch its movement, cup our hands to drink it in. It will cleanse and purify all that is sullied. This living water transforms us into a people who not only have what the world needs, but are what the world needs. People whose very presence provides rest and refreshment to the weary and thirsty. How amazing is that?? So let us drink deeply from Him, allowing His presence to revive our weary souls, and continue to become what we were made to be: A drink of fresh, pure water to a thirsty world. 

Spring.jpg

“He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.'” John 7:37

But the wisdom from above is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It shows no favoritism and is always sincere. James 3:17

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Posted by: Kara Luker | March 8, 2019

A small obedience

I am writing this post from the writer’s shed of our new home! Exactly three weeks after we first saw this house online, we were given the keys and brought over our first truckload of boxes. The following day, exactly three weeks after we first saw it in person, we brought over the rest of our stuff and started our new life here. Needless to say, it’s been a whirlwind… but what a welcome one! After all this time of waiting and praying, it still doesn’t feel real.

 A couple of years ago, when we had already been in high gear house-searching mode for a long while, the Lord told me “invest in where you are now.” I wrote a post about how scary it was for me to invest in a place I knew to be temporary, but I did my best to follow the instructions. The very first thing I did was to plant my potted dwarf lemon tree in the barren dirt plot in our side yard; a pioneer of my eventual, much-loved garden. Then I set about doing the much riskier work of investing in the people around us, trusting that God would heal my heart if we were to be uprooted from the area and forced to start over. It was certainly a challenge but the terror lessoned as time went on because I realized He was teaching me how to do community, a lesson I needed to learn and apply wherever we would land.

As it turns out, this house puts us less than a mile from the school Chase is attending (one that was outside our previous boundaries), and in the very heart of the community we’ve spent these last years investing in. We’ve only been here a week and our home has already been filled with new friends and old. It just seems like a place that was made for gathering. You’d better believe I’ve poured out some tears over God’s goodness to us. Not just for a house, which holds no good thing without Him, but for His presence in this process and all He has done through it to stretch us and grow us and provide for us in ways that reach far beyond material provision. With all my heart, I say thank you, Lord.

As for that lemon tree, I had imagined that by the time we moved, it would be a thriving tree with an abundance of luscious lemons that would demonstrate the fruitfulness of obedience. While I did manage to keep it alive (a fact of which I’m very proud), it looks a lot more like a Charlie Brown version of a fruit tree and any lemons it bore never ripened. Until last month, that is. When all of a sudden, the green fruit that had been dangling on that pitiful tree so long turned the beautiful yellow that signifies ripeness. What a sight to see before moving on. Chase was pretty excited about it too.

Chase Lemon

Here is the thing I didn’t foresee. Our new yard is host to 13 fruit trees, three of which are mature lemon trees – each a different variety – loaded with ripe fruit. It’s almost like God is saying, “You do your part. Listen to what I’m asking of you and do it to the best of your ability. It may look small and insignificant and you may be a crappy gardener who can’t make things grow, but be as faithful as you can and trust me for the rest. Because I am the one who makes things grow, in my perfect time, to produce the sweetest, best and most plentiful fruit. Each juicy bite will remind you of my goodness (not your ability) and there will be enough to fill many fruit bowls beyond your own.” Or something like that. 🙂 It’s like not unlike the water the servants brought to Jesus at his request. They couldn’t turn it to wine, even if they had years to do it. But Jesus could. And He did. That plain old water, alongside their humble act of obedience, was transformed into the finest wine that satisfied each and every wedding guest and demonstrated the power and glory of God. The servants got to be part of that miraculous act!

Fruit Bowl

This leaves me wondering what God is asking of you. If you don’t know, seek Him out. If you’ve been frustrated by the waiting and the inability to see that any blessing or significance could come from your current efforts, please know that it is not up to you to turn water to wine or to grow the fruit. Your part – and mine – is to trust and obey and He will do the rest. Yes, with bountiful sweetness, He will do the rest.

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Posted by: Kara Luker | February 27, 2019

That’s the story I’ll tell

When going through our garage for our imminent move, I came across the carseat Chase used before his current booster seat. If you are a parent (and maybe even if you’re not), you know there are seemingly endless options to consider when buying anything for a baby. Car seats are no exception. There are so many brands and styles, it can be daunting to choose. Some boast extra comfort and easy cleanability (if that’s not a word, it should be), while others offer perks like cup holders or eye catching fabric.

As I researched this purchase, I read not only the descriptions provided by the manufacturers (who are trying to sell something), but also sifted through dozens of reviews by people who had actually used each car seat. Many referred to the perks mentioned above, all of which appealed to me, but the reviews on one particular seat spoke of something more significant: The safety of their baby because of this car seat. Two moms in particular spoke of harrowing car crashes they experienced with their baby in this seat. One rolled her car multiple times and broke her back, but her baby was unscathed. I don’t remember the specifics of the other, but it was equally dramatic – and the baby was also unharmed.

Recaro

I did no further research. I was sold. The Recaro it was. It had no cup holders, was a bear to clean and offered no eye catching fabrics; just a simple, solid black seat to keep my baby safe. Fortunately I never had any accidents to test its safety, but I put my trust in it and drove confidently because of the real-life stories of these women who had.

This is really why I chose Jesus too. There weren’t many bells and whistles about Him to catch my eye or entice me, but I’d crashed enough to know I needed more than a nice looking, comfy seat for this journey or somewhere to put my sippy cup. I needed safety. I needed something to put my trust in so that I would be covered in any future crashes, no matter how devastating. A huge part of choosing Jesus was the stories of others who had made it through the worst because of Him. People who walked away from impossible wreckages. People who retained joy when it should have been destroyed along with everything around them.

Can I tell you how very important this choice turned out to be? With the loss of my very precious son, Cole, my life tumbled and rolled, completely out of my control, with metal screeching and twisting around me, followed by a deafening silence. This was no insignificant fender bender. It should have destroyed me. But it didn’t. I was held so tightly as everything crashed around me. I was kept safe. Shocked and deeply saddened, but uninjured. Because of Jesus. This is the story I’ll tell. I hope that people will hear it – and those of so many others who have experienced His faithfulness – and choose Him, resting confidently in the tried and true safety He provides. 

My sister sent me this amazing song called Storyteller by Morgan Harper Nichols. If you have a chance, give it a listen. If not, here are the lyrics. It is my heart in a song…

On a Sunday evening
I’m looking back
over all the years
and where I’ve been

Looking at old photographs
I’m remembering
you were right there
and you have been ever since

With every page that turns
I see your faithfulness

Oh the mountain where I climbed
The valley where I fell
You were there all along
That’s the story I’ll tell

You brought the pieces together
Made me this storyteller
Now I know it is well, it is well
That’s the story I’ll tell

There were some nights that felt like
They would last forever
But you kept me breathing
You were with me right then

And all that you have done for me
I could never hold it in
So here’s to me telling this story
Over and over again

Oh the mountain where I climbed
The valley where I fell
You were there all along
That’s the story I’ll tell

You brought the pieces together
Made me this storyteller
Now I know it is well, it is well
That’s the story I’ll tell

You hold the broken
You hear my every cry, every cry
My eyes are open
I know that it is well, it is well

What is the story you’ll tell?

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Posted by: Kara Luker | February 14, 2019

Home at last

Do you remember the end of Miracle on 34th Street? They are driving past a house with a For Sale sign out front and Susan shouts “Stop! Stop!” She hops out of the car and excitedly runs through the house, giddily declaring “This is my house! The one I asked Mr. Kringle for!” Her mom and Fred, her mom’s romantic interest (who just proved in court that Santa is real), smile at her sweetly naive claim… until they see a cane leaning against the fireplace. One that looks a heck of a lot like Kris Kringle’s. One that throws their doubts into question.

Well…. I just had an experience that felt a whole lot like that. We have been renting our home for nearly five years and have spent three of those looking for another to buy. This has involved countless hours on Zillow (like I really don’t know if I can count that high), dozens and dozens of open houses and discussions of a possible out-of-state move to Florida where John’s family lives and tract houses don’t cost millions. We have also put offers in on a few houses, but have been unwilling to compete in the bidding wars. The last one seemed ours for the taking and, although it was 25 minutes outside our community, checked a lot of lifestyle boxes. But after we put in our offer, I could find no peace and ended up totally and completely freaking out. My extraordinary husband, who really, really wanted that house and really, really wanted to be in that beach-is-a-bike-ride-away area, pulled the offer. That is love.

All the while, we have been living in a home that I’ve loved with my whole heart. It is by no means perfect, but it has served our family so well. We’ve had incredible neighbors and all that we’ve needed. In light of this (and the relentless craziness of our Southern California housing market), the need to buy had been diminishing bit by bit… until a handful of months ago I decided that it truly didn’t matter. Unless God had something else for us, I’d be happy to rent this one forever more.

Fortunately, despite my complete abandonment of Zillow, my husband continued the search because last Thursday, he sent me a link to one that was smack dab in the middle of our community and looked pretty great. That in itself was nothing new, but what was new was the fact that when we saw it in person, it finally felt right. Not only would it serve our needs, but there is a separate unit my parents could convert into a cottage. Incorporating them has been on our hearts during our whole search, but we just didn’t know if we could make it happen. (The obvious answer is that we couldn’t; but clearly God could.)

In Escrow

We saw the house at 11:30 on Friday and had our offer accepted by 6:30 that evening – one day after the house had gone onto the market and one day before the scheduled open house. It is unheard of in these parts for realtors to accept an offer on such a desirable house before having the opportunity to pit sellers against each other and drive up the price. I mean unheard of! But that’s what they did and it felt as though this incredible property was handed to us on a platter. The sellers are heading to Tennessee and want a quick escrow. So if all goes well, it’s possible we could start moving in by the end of this month… standing in our much-prayed-for-home just three weeks after having not even known about its existence. That is nuts!!

Since having our offer accepted, we have learned about how amazing the neighborhood is. Not perfect, I’m sure, but it is less than a mile from Chase’s school, there are hoards of kids – even a favorite classmate three houses down, and the welcoming neighbors can’t say enough wonderful things about living there. But here is the kicker. On that first visit, after we had wandered around the yard, the realtor asked if we had noticed the writing shed in the side yard on the opposite side of the house. Um, what?? No! So he walked us over and showed us a perfect little writing shed (I didn’t even know that was a thing!) in which the current owner has written several books. It wasn’t listed in the details on Zillow. We missed it on first glance. But it was the sign for me that God went before us – the cane He left leaning by the fireplace for us to find. A symbol of His presence with us; His generosity toward us. We still have to make it through the hoops that come before closing and we will still have to pay a hearty mortgage, but there is finally peace and I am so glad that through our restless process the Lord kept us from taking for ourselves lesser things than what He wanted to give. 

WritingShed.jpeg

The “cane” left on the property

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Posted by: Kara Luker | February 11, 2019

Case closed

John and I were sorting through old boxes in the garage yesterday. On a folded paper, tucked into a notebook, was a journal entry recounting a terrifying dream. I’ve already blogged about the dream so I won’t repeat it here, but there was a detail I hadn’t remembered. After the malicious woman tried to destroy me by an explosion, the voice of a narrator suddenly chimed in with these haunting words: “And from that day forth, she was marred, burned and disfigured.”

I think the reason I cry when I read this 18 years later is because that authoritative declaration, as if the end of my story had already been decided, was vividly real to me – not just in the night hours, but every waking one too. The narrative was that what had been done to me and what I had chosen to do had caused irreparable damage, not only me, but to my future and hope. I believed it with all my heart.

I now know that the voice belonged to satan, who lives to condemn us. He declares us guilty and sentences us to life in prison, which we willingly accept because the evidence is so damning and we believe we deserve it. For those who have accepted Jesus, he has no actual authority. It would be like the clerk of the court hearing a case and sentencing a defendant. That would be laughable. Unless the clerk were sitting in the judge’s seat, holding a gavel and putting on a convincing show. The sentence couldn’t stand, but if you didn’t know the judge were a fraud, you wouldn’t know to resist his determination for your future.

prison bars
When a friend and I were praying for someone recently, I saw a scene unfold in my mind. In it, she was sitting behind prison bars. The door was unlocked and when someone came to swing it open and tell her that she was free, she pleaded her guilt, saying “You don’t understand what I’ve done! I deserve to be here.” and clung tightly to the bars.

It’s not that we haven’t done terrible things or had awful things done to us. The files evidencing wrongdoing are enormous. We deserve to be condemned and others do too. And yet the Judge of the Highest Court has regarded the evidence, seen that the penalty was already paid by the cross and declared us innocent for now and forever more. Every word of guilt was covered by the blood of Jesus and the files were sealed by his resurrection. There are no more possible appeals. It is finished.

This is the unfathomable joy of the gospel. This is the kind of mercy that brings us to our knees in gratitude. This is the glorious power that silences any voice framing our future with anything besides freedom and hope. You are not condemned. And if wrongs have been done to you, you are not condemned to a life of misery because of them. Do you believe it? Will you you challenge any other narrative with the authority of God’s Word and receive your freedom?

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, because the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:1-2

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

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Posted by: Kara Luker | February 8, 2019

Tidying Up with Marie Kondo (& God)

MarieKondo
Like most everyone everywhere, I have been watching Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix. It seems slightly bizarre to me that a show on decluttering your home could gain such a wide audience. But it has clearly met a need because people aren’t just watching other people walk through the process (like those of us who watched The Biggest Loser with a box of cookies in hand), but participating – to such a degree that there has been a documented increase in donations to second-hand stores (my husband can testify that I have been a significant contributor to that statistic).

Each episode focuses on a home whose occupants have been overrun by their belongings. They know a change needs to happen – and want it – but have no idea where to begin or how to accomplish it. Enter Marie Kondo, a delightful, child-sized Japanese woman with zero judgment and a love of helping people restore a right relationship with their stuff. The things that “spark joy” or that “you would like to bring into your future” are kept. The rest goes. Orderly spaces are created for what remains so it can be easily seen, accessed and enjoyed.

Some of the owners who really do want the freedom that results from decluttering come to see how very attached they are to the clutter. In one episode during Marie’s first visit to a home, the wife excitedly declares, “I can’t wait to see you work your magic!” It didn’t take her long to figure out that there was no magic; just guidance and encouragement to empower the hard decisions she was going to have to make. Her process was painful to watch because it had a lot more to do with a fear of letting go than anything related to joy, so almost everything went into the keep pile. But at some point, she caught a vision of freedom (I’d love to know what happened in between), and finally stepped into the joy of releasing what she didn’t need. It was a significant change in her mindset that paved the way for a better relationship not only with her belongings, but with herself and her family (including the future baby they will now try to have because of the restored space and function of their home).

I can’t help but see the spiritual implications here. So many of us are overrun by emotions and behaviors that are not only cluttering up our lives, but enslaving us. Things like fear, bitterness, depression, anxiety, shame, addiction. Maybe they are so familiar that we don’t even notice the junk piled up all around, or maybe we do but have no idea how to clean it up. Enter God, a gentle giant who delights in helping people restore a right relationship with the stuff inside.

He shares the most effective program ever through the His word and gives individual help through whatever visits we will allow, always entering our mess without judgment and giving the wisdom we need to accomplish the end goal. Remember that transformation that happened in the “in between” for that the woman on the show? You can pretty much expect that along the way, thanks to the Holy Spirit. The result is that instead of our emotions and behaviors dominating and overwhelming us, they will become servants of our best interest and enable us to fulfill our purpose. But it is a process and we have a part to play.

When I was ready to address my internal mess, the whole thing was so deep and wide and disastrous, it seemed impossible. My insides looked like the house of a hoarder and while I couldn’t bear to let anything go, there was no spark of joy in any of it. Since abandoning my “house” and starting fresh with another wasn’t an option, I found myself hoping that God would just tidy me up, saying things like “Do your magic, Lord, and remove these addictions!” Like the woman in that episode, I came to realize there would be no magic and I think the reason is important.

If God had cleaned up addiction for me, nothing would have changed in my relationship with the mindset that allowed it room in the first place. It was a scarcity mindset that said “I don’t have enough. I’m not enough. God isn’t enough.” So the space that had been cleared out would have ended up with the same mess I started with. Maybe worse. Instead, God allowed the disorder of addiction as something nagging and visible that would point to the bigger issue that was driving it. Only when that was addressed would I be able to hold up each vestige of addiction and say, “Nope. This isn’t serving me well or bringing me joy, and I don’t want it in my future.” And then freely toss it in the discard pile.

When that happened, I owned that cleared out space, even if it was just a square inch. And you’d better believe that anything new wanting to fill it would have to line up with the new mindset that had created it. Bit by bit, this is how my life has been transformed. A realization of need, help from Someone who knows a lot more than I do, realization of a greater need, a whole lot of truth to shift my understanding and oodles of Holy Spirit empowerment along the way. Wouldn’t you know that underneath all that crap was a beautiful home with so much purpose and a deep connection with joy. It’s by no means completely decluttered, but it is hardly recognizable as the same place.

So what is it that is cluttering up your life? And what is the mindset that is allowing it to stay? If you don’t know, invite the Lord into your home. Read His word where all His methods are laid out. Invite the Holy Spirit to help you see. He will so gladly show you. But He’s not going to do it for you because He loves you more than that and He wants your freedom.

Isaiah 55-12

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