Posted by: Kara Luker | April 25, 2018

Now, that is Freedom

A steady stream of poor food choices in my absurdly sensitive body was leaving me moody, tired and craving more poor choices, creating an an off-kilter universe in my household with me at the center. After a particularly dramatic nosedive (I’m pretty sure I scared John that day), I saw the lunacy of continuing to embrace my “freedoms” in this area, even when they felt justified or sometimes necessary, when what I most wanted was the stability and energy to play with my family and love them well.

food-healthy-vegetables-potatoes.jpgThat glimpse, accompanied by a whole lot of grace, enabled me to launch into the past several weeks of putting into my body what best serves it. While it hasn’t made me the Mother Theresa of my household or solved all my problems, there has been a beautiful quietness; a rest from the all-too-familiar spin cycle. The strangest thing to me has been the joy. Not for a moment have I felt deprived. Instead, I feel grateful for the all the good things I get to have and grateful for what they produce.

But this post isn’t really about food. (So please, please don’t feel condemned if you’re not eating well.) What it’s really about is freedom vs. Freedom. The first is the amazing gift of free will that God has given us to do as we please, overriding any and all instructions He’s given in His Word… if we so desire. The latter is His empowerment to live within the boundaries He’s provided, even when it means laying down our right to choose our own way. Lowercase freedom will produce all sorts of results, including fear, bitterness and discouragement; uppercase Freedom will always produce rest and joy.

An example is His unqualified directive to forgive others. We may be earnestly justified to hold onto unforgiveness for someone’s wrongs against us – and we have every right to do so. But it will bind us to bitterness, and believe me, I’ve been there; it produces no good thing. When we choose to yield our right to our own way (often after a prolonged season of experiencing the fruitlessness and frustration of it) and follow God’s lead to forgive, we enter into His rest. As we continue to choose His path, we will find ourselves safe within the boundaries that once seemed so restrictive. We will feel gratitude for the wide open spaces we get to roam once through the narrow gate. And we will experience joy because we were made for it and our Creator, who gave us just the right instructions, knows how to produce it. Now, that is Freedom.

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 23, 2018

The new is here!

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 2 Cor 5:17

New Creation

I had a thrilling train of thought the other day. What if we really are a new creation in Christ? And what if the “old things” passing away wasn’t just a one-time occurrence when we first came to Christ, but one of a constantly renewing nature as we live in Christ? And what if the arrival of “the new” means that we don’t need to battle the old, but only to realize that because it has been superseded by something so much higher and better, it has been rendered completely irrelevant?

I don’t know if this is true for others, but I’ve gotten so easily entangled in assessments of myself based on my experiences; a collection of data that has developed into an identity, affecting everything from the way I view myself to the way I relate to people to my hope for the future. I’m coming to see that anything of the old that we try to cling to becomes as stinky and spoiled as the day-old manna of the Israelites. (Ex 16:20) It is not only failures or unholy attachments that keep us from living in the flow of this new life, but also successes that anchor us to the past, even of yesterday, by narrowly defining us or tying us to our performance rather than to the life of Christ with all of its vibrant, constantly renewing, ever-expanding expression. In light of this, the old doesn’t need to be further analyzed and given credence, but rather thrown into the depths of His love… where nothing but the new can survive.

The best news is that He doesn’t tell us to try to be new, but that we are new. The old has gone. His death on the cross made sure of it. So maybe our whole role in this thrilling venture is to simply ask for His help in believing these truths so that we can start living as we truly are… redeemed and free, forever-new creations of the living God.

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 20, 2018

My new motto

My motto of late has been “do your best.” It may seem very uninspired, but it’s been tremendously freeing since my former, unspoken mentality was “be perfect… which you can’t be (and, may I add, you fall miserably short of).”

Here’s what I’ve come to know. What I want in this life and the impact I want to make on this world can’t be accomplished by natural means. It can only be accomplished by the hand of God working through me. If I acknowledge this from the get-go, it frees me from believing that any amount of effort on my part will be enough. Perfection wouldn’t even be enough, because without God, man – even at his best – is a very small thing with great limitations. But because of these very limitations in “earthen vessels,” we are off the hook to try to accomplish what only God can and we get to “show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” (2 Cor 4:7)

When God wanted to deliver Midian into the hands of Gideon, his response was “Pardon me, my lord, but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.” God wasn’t deterred. “I will be with you, and you will strike down all the Midianites, leaving none alive.” But instead of beefing up his army and make him feel like the warrior of his dreams, God drastically decreased his army – so that he would recognize his utter dependence on God and so that Israel would not believe that ‘My own power has delivered me.’ In case you haven’t read the story, by God’s hand working through the weakest and the least, “Midian was subdued before the Israelites and did not raise its head again.”

So doing my best means I’m showing up and letting God worry about the rest. It means I’m not copping out when I don’t see how my contribution will make a difference. It means I’m not comparing myself to others who seem to have much more to bring to the table. Like the boy in a hungry crowd of thousands giving his meager amount of fish and bread to Jesus, I’m learning to give what I have, whether it seems substantial or insignificant. And if God happens to want to use me to display His all-surpassing power, then so be it!

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 19, 2018

Therefore we will not fear

In one of my favorite scenes from the Simpsons, Lisa has a nightmare about the boogeyman. Since her mom is away, she wakes up her dad for comfort. Instead of calming her fears, he screams, jumps out of bed and tells her to nail the windows shut while he gets the gun. He then runs into Bart’s room to wake him up, saying “I don’t want to alarm you, but there may be a boogeyman or boogeymen in the house!”, and then proceeds to build a barricade out of furniture and other household items, trembling behind it with his kids. When Marge returns to the chaotic scene, he blames his actions on her for leaving him alone.

It was years ago I saw that episode, but it still makes me giggle whenever I think of it. Probably because it captures a piece of human nature – of me – in such a light-hearted way. But in a less humorous way, I think it also captures the response of many believers in a world that often scares us. We are stewards of God’s kingdom on this earth and representatives of His truth and His heart to nonbelievers, but instead of demonstrating his peace amidst scary circumstances (think of Jesus’ nap on stormy seas as the disciples predicted their demise), I think we often follow Homer’s lead and overreact to the provocation of fear, drawing others behind our self-erected barricades with us. And maybe we might even be tempted to blame God for leaving us in charge of this chaotic place where bad things are happening all around us. Don’t get me wrong. I understand that there are legitimately horrific things happening in this world but Jesus, who told us to expect these things, also said “see to it that you are not alarmed.” (Matt 24:6)

Like a parent can bring comfort to a child’s fears because they see the bigger picture, God – who sees the entire picture – can bring not only comfort and rest amidst “wars and rumors of wars,” but courage and authority to shine light into the darkness. Jesus said “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) As we stand on that truth and learn to live from the place of deep security no matter what comes, we will find that others are drawn to the God who can impart this baffling peace in the middle of circumstances that should dictate otherwise. We will be able to comfort them with the comfort we have received (2 Cor 1:4), and together say (and know) that “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging… the Lord Almighty is with us.” (Ps 46:1-3, 7)

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 18, 2018

Turning toward Home

I have one of those fairly dramatic prodigal son stories, spending my freedom and inheritance on rebellion and self-destruction before turning my weary, broken body and empty pockets in the direction of Home where my heavenly Father stood watching and waiting for me. We celebrated together so joyfully, I knew then and there that I would forevermore be a faithful daughter under the roof of my loving Dad.

Except I haven’t been. Because time and time again, I’ve been lured away by lies – some small, some big – and the world’s promises to give me freedom apart from His provision. Though I’ve never again strayed so far or stayed gone so long, I’ve still turned toward empty counterfeits of the sweetest love I’ve ever known.

But do you know what? It’s not a failure I regret because it means I’ve gotten to live the love story over and over, running back home into the open arms of my Daddy who never tires of receiving me and rejoicing over my return. The joy I find there grows deeper each time and makes me never want to leave again; but if I do, I know the moment I choose to humble myself and turn toward home, I will see the unrelenting kindness in His eyes as He runs up the road to embrace me.

This story is for you too… whether you have been the son who squandered your inheritance and ended up in the pig pen, or the son who never left but never knew joy with the Father… whether you are coming home for the first time, or what might feel like the shame-ridden millionth time… whether you are lost and tangled in your sin and rebellion, or are simply believing something untrue. I can’t encourage you enough to turn in the direction of Home where you too will see that unrelenting kindness as your Father runs to embrace you and cover you, His beloved child, with His unwavering, heart-changing love.

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If you have a chance, please give this song a listen. Won’t Stop Kissing by Aeron Brown

 

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | March 7, 2018

Patience in gardening (and life)

When I first planted the bougainvillea plants in my yard, they couldn’t have been more than a foot tall. I tied their wee limbs to the bottom of the wooden arch that gets bathed in sunlight, watered them faithfully and waited for growth that just didn’t seem to happen. I wondered how they could ever make it up the sides of the arbor, no less meet at the top, particularly in the hands of such an unskilled gardener as myself. Even if they did grow, it seemed unlikely that their pace would allow us to enjoy them before leaving our rented house.

My neighbor Ruth, whose half-acre beams with life and beauty, was over in my small garden one day. Her response to my doubts about my bougainvillea’s future was “oh yes, they take a while to get established.” It was such a relief to realize that the slow start was not a failure on my part, but simply the nature of what I planted.

Jump ahead a couple years (we’ve lived here way longer than anticipated) when the first of two small branches met at the top of the arbor. The plants were still mostly leaves with sparse flowers, but it was such a joyous occasion that I grabbed John from inside to witness the miracle. I felt like we could now move from this house because this long-awaited delight had happened. But I am so glad we stuck around a few months longer, because those plants are now so established they’ve gone a bit wild and are covered with brightly colored blossoms that make me smile every single day.

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Ever since Ruth made that statement and I’ve watched the truth of it play out, I have wondered about some of the things God has planted in my life and yours. Maybe we have become discouraged by the painfully slow pace of the growth of these dreams. Maybe we feel pressured because of a predetermined time frame or doubtful because we believe they are dependent on some magic touch we lack.

But what I know is that God is a master gardener. He knows the nature of what He’s planted, He knows the beauty that’s going to come from it, and He isn’t worried for a moment that it’s taking too long. So what I’m learning to do is rest in the golden warmth of His love and drink up the water of His word while He works to establish the good and joyful things He has created me for.

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | February 22, 2018

We are the clay

Hands on the pottery wheelChase and I bought some clay a few months back. As we kneaded the large lump and attempted to coax it into shapes that at least vaguely resembled ornaments, I couldn’t help thinking of this verse in Isaiah: “We are the clay, and You are our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand.” Looking at that shapeless blob on the table, it didn’t seem to be the most flattering comparison.

In our culture, which does not admire passivity or deference, it’s hard to reconcile such a seemingly inactive and submissive role as that of clay. We are far more comfortable considering ourselves the potters and our lives the work of our hands. But the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that we are no more able to make something of our lives than a lump of clay can – on its own – rise up from the table and become a sculpture… or an ashtray… or anything at all.

The only thing clay is capable of doing is yielding to pressure or resisting it. While not a prestigious role, it is a crucial one because to what it yields – or, rather, to whom it yields – will determine what it becomes. And so it is with us. While our identity as God’s beloved will always remain secure, what becomes of our life and what we can be used for are determined by whose touch we yield to. Since we’ve established that we can’t shape ourselves, that pretty much leaves us in the hands of God or the world.

Yielding to the world’s touch will look like freedom. (It is the wide gate, after all.) That’s because the prince of this world doesn’t care who we become – no matter how noble – just as long as it isn’t who God purposed us to be. Which makes sense because becoming our true selves requires intimacy with the Father and will naturally express His nature, making it a profound threat to the stability of the enemy’s kingdom.

The world can’t shape us into anything without our willingness, so we must be persuaded. The foundation for this argument usually begins by casting shadows either on God’s goodness and His intentions for us, or on His ability to meet our needs and fulfill our desires. This typically secures at least slight resistance to God’s touch and a readiness to place our trust elsewhere. Since pretty much no one would willingly surrender to satan, the world doesn’t ask us to trust in him. Instead, it presses hard on our tendency to trust in ourselves, making a deeply convincing case that we possess the surest way to happiness, security, significance, acceptance or whatever it is we most crave… and then it illuminates tangible paths to satisfy those needs. We so often yield to these ill-intentioned designs and false promises, comforted by our control; oblivious to the fact that we are being made.

Yielding to God’s hands will often feel more limiting. That’s because he is shaping us into a specific vessel that will best express our heart and His; the one He saw in us long before we were even a formless mound of clay. He’s not concerned that we know what that is supposed look like or how to become it – only that we trust Him, laying down the security of control for the incomparable security of love. Because that is freedom. It looses us from the exhausting burden of striving, comparing and performing and delivers us into rest because all outward measures of success are rendered irrelevant by the wholeness and completeness of our identity as seen by the Master, before He had even made one imprint. 

But it doesn’t end there, because once we are at rest and are no longer resisting, we become soft and pliable in His hands and get to see the reality of His vision as masterpieces of great beauty emerge from raw material…  each exquisitely different from the rest, but all bursting with joy, fulfilling our purpose to the fullest, and bringing glory to the patient, loving, perfect Artist who created us.

 

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands. Psalm 133:8

May He grant you according to your heart’s desire, and fulfill all your purpose. Psalm 20:4

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves… 2 Corinthians 4:7

But now, O LORD, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand. Isaiah 64:8

You will say to me then, “Why does He still find fault? For who resists His will?” On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it? Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use? Romans 9:19-21

You turn things around! Shall the potter be considered as equal with the clay, That what is made would say to its maker, “He did not make me”; Or what is formed say to him who formed it, “He has no understanding”? Isaiah 29:16

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. James 4:7

Jesus gave them this answer: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; only what He sees the Father doing.. John 5:19

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. Matthew 7:13-14

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:33

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Posted by: Kara Luker | January 23, 2018

A greater want

Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work.” John 4:34

Last week, I fasted from food for one whole day.  I’m guessing this isn’t a big deal for most people, some of whom probably even forget to eat. But for someone like me whose body often calls the shots – not just needs but very particular wants – it borders on the miraculous.

Veruca-Salt

My heart had been feeling stirred; like God was doing something in there I couldn’t yet understand. And then it felt pressed – hard – which created an urgency to hear what the something might be and made fasting suddenly seem like a very reasonable response.

With my utter lack of willpower, it was no surprise that my initial effort ended by morning’s first hunger pangs. Shame didn’t follow; just a prayer that went something like “I’m willing God, but if this is going to happen, you’re going to have to do it.” The following day He did. It was really rather shocking. It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry… I definitely was… but I wanted something more than I wanted food. The Spirit just kind of breathed life into that and it made eating seem pretty insignificant.

My day-long fast ended with a bit of the pressure lifted, some joy in its place and a new understanding of something pretty foundational. The filter I have been looking through is an awareness of my limitations. I want ease, comfort and predictability. I want people to approve of me. I want my life to look a certain way. And I am terribly afraid of even a small amount of suffering (I mean, I consider being tired suffering). These are not traits that would highly recommend me for wholehearted surrender to an untamed God. Or so I thought until my fast.

But then I grasped something. If hunger and a lack of willpower don’t disqualify me from fasting, then wants and fears – even a slew of them – don’t disqualify me from being used in the Kingdom of God. All that is required is a greater Want that dwarfs all the lesser ones and makes them seem kind of insignificant.

That thing pressing in on my heart? I’m starting to think it was that Want; the one that sees how worthy God is and hungers for His love to be expressed through my life. Maybe all those other wants are going to be quieted or rendered irrelevant as the Spirit breathes life on this one.

As for my cowardice? I’ve read enough stories to know there is a cost and that still scares me. But I’m guessing that the same God who became my willpower for a day can become my courage for another.

 

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Posted by: Kara Luker | January 9, 2018

Chase’s Big Mountain

RocksAt the end of the walking trail by our house are a few large rocks which provide a perfect place for Chase to snack and play before turning around for the second half of our trek. Last week he became particularly curious about the small hill and storm drain that lie just beyond his dusty playground. I offered to explore it with him but to my extremely cautious son it looked like a treacherous cliff that should not be explored – at least not by the likes of him.

At the Top

So I sauntered down myself to have a look around. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was was watching me keenly. The moment I returned, having realized that I didn’t lose my life or even a limb, he asked if he could go down with me. Holding hands firmly, we wandered down to explore the large cement arches, now empty and dry, that channel rain on the rare occasion we get any. He wondered aloud what would happen if he got stuck in one and I couldn’t help but smile at his worst-case-scenario thinking. I told him we would work it out.

When the exploring was done, Chase decided he wanted to climb up by himself and asked with childlike innocence, “Mom, if I fall will you catch me?” It took my breath away to know that he trusts me like that. Satisfied with my assurance, he bravely marched up the hill that only minutes before looked to him like a fierce mountain.

Chase's mountain

It was undeniably magical to explore with my son on this warm California day and see his fear transform into courage, an experience I’ve already tucked away in my happy memories file. But it impacted me beyond that because it gave me such a picture of the way the Lord faces life with me.

He doesn’t roll his eyes or belittle me when the hills or valleys look to me like impassable peaks or perilous depths, nor does He bark at me to man up and march forward. He understands my inexperience and fear, and calls me into courage by showing me the way. There’s not a single path He’s asked me to take that He hasn’t walked first, and there’s not a danger lurking that He isn’t already aware of – and able to overcome.

I’ve never had a greater jolt of confidence in the middle of an overwhelming circumstance than when I realize that He knows the entirety of the situation (not the little sliver of a view that I have) and He is not worried. I repeat: He. is. not. worried. He doesn’t see a hopeless situation. Ever. He sees an adventure; obstacles that we can tackle together. All He is waiting for is my hand in His so he can lead the way.

…because this isn’t just about God’s help to get through the hard places, grow me up or strengthen my muscles so I can climb bigger mountains. This is about relationship. It is magical for my Dad to explore with me! It delights Him to see my desire stoked to step into adventure with Him, and to see my vision transformed from daunting to doable by His presence on my path. I cannot imagine how great His joy is when I run ahead and call out, “Dad, if I fall will you catch me?” The answer, of course, is yes. Always yes. With a twinkle in His eye and deep pride in His heart.

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Posted by: Kara Luker | December 7, 2017

Let it go, let it go

Decorating is not a gift I naturally possess, which frustrates me to no end. Not only do I thoroughly appreciate well-designed spaces, but I also enjoy attempting to create them myself… until I fail and the fun ends, making me feel like the perpetual Salieri with great passion but the inability to express it, while beauty pours effortlessly from the Mozarts around me (you saw Amadeus, right?).

Dino Bedding

Big boy bedding

Chase’s room needed an update since he is now five and it still looked like a nursery. Eventually we will need to swap out some furniture, but for now I thought some older-kid decor would do the trick without breaking the bank. After an enjoyable field trip to TJ Maxx, I took my souvenirs home, hung them on the wall and arranged them on the bookshelf. And then I hung them on a different wall and rearranged the bookshelf. And then I hung them higher on that wall. And so on and so forth until I stuck half the items back in my car to return, decided the partly decorated room was ‘maybe, possibly better than before, but I’m not really sure since I suck at this,’ and called it a day.

When John went into Chase’s room that evening, he immediately asked if we needed all the tchotchkes I’d purchased and wondered how much I’d spent on them. It was a fair question, especially since we’ve ended up with cupboards of unwanted frames and knick knacks when I changed my mind about their desirability. He meant no harm, but in light of my earnest effort in this very sensitive area, it hurt.

Angry frilly lizard

My defensive look

Now, I am a generally a kind, fairly mild person. But when I feel attacked or misunderstood, I turn into a ruthlessly fierce creature defending my territory with bared teeth, growls and a counterattack. Fortunately, on this occasion, the transgression wasn’t deep enough to draw out my very worst. But I did launch into a very defensive monologue about how “I’m just trying to make this rental feel homey” and, “hey, I was trying to save you money by buying decorations instead of furniture” and “you do realize that most everything we used for Chase’s nursery was hand-me-downs, right?” [which, for the record, was because I didn’t want to spend the money on a brand new nursery]

John kindly explained that it was an offhand comment and he didn’t mean anything significant by it. He just didn’t want to spend money on what we wouldn’t use, but apparently it wasn’t really a big deal to him. Clearly it was to me, though, because even after the conversation ended, my mind kept going in circles defending myself and, perhaps, attacking John. I felt so lame that I couldn’t just let it go, and knew the answer wasn’t trying harder to make him understand where I was coming from. The Lord broke through my mental merry-go-round with a gentle, but profound truth: I was stuck because I had taken up an offense.

An offense is technically “a resentment brought about by a perceived insult.” I think it is often (or always?) just a protective reaction to feeling hurt or misunderstood – one that feels very justified and quite logical. It assumes it has assessed the situation rightly, attaches judgments to people or their intentions, draws conclusions about what the experience means and determines how justice should be enacted. None of this actually heals the initial hurt, but rather builds a fortress around it to keep it safe and alive. This is how some people who experienced hurt more than 50 years ago are as emotionally charged when talking about it as if the experience happened yesterday.

God can heal our hurts, rather easily actually, and can draw beauty from even the most painful encounters, but He is a gentleman and will not force His way past the defenses we erect… which is such a lovely thing. But it means it has to be our choice to let the walls down; to trust that He has a better way than our resentment and the control we think it gives us (when in reality it controls us). It takes great humility to be willing to hear a different narrative than the one running through our heads and throbbing in our emotions. And it requires immense vulnerability to entrust God with our raw, tender hearts. But rest assured that any part of us that is exposed to the light of God and His deep care for us will be healed and restored. It is as certain as the law of gravity. It’s no wonder the enemy works so hard to keep the offense alive.

I have so much more to I’d like to say about this, but will instead finish my story. I got unstuck quicker than the blink of an eye. Along with the offense went a whole slew of exhausting things, like my need to manage John’s perceptions of me, to defend my motives and actions, and even to be loved or understood in a particular way. As those walls fell down, my arguments were rendered irrelevant and the most divine silence fell. I was able to open my heart wide open again to this husband I love as God touched the hurt and used the whole experience to transform part of my understanding that I’ve struggled with.

He even gave me another opportunity to practice with someone else I love during the Thanksgiving holiday. Her words (unintentionally) stung deeply, sending my mind into wild defensiveness complete with passionate counterattacks and a determination that she couldn’t be trusted with my heart. Once I remembered the lesson to let go of the offense, my walls came down. Tears flowed freely (though discreetly) through the trailers of Thor as I poured out my exposed pain to the Lord and, I kid you not, my heart was healed by time the movie started… for which I was grateful because it was a terrific movie. The rest of our time together was as sweet as it’s ever been, without a single barrier between us. If that’s not freedom, I don’t know what is.

If this holds true for us, how much greater does it hold true for God who must then hold no offense against us. There is no wall up in His heart towards us, no matter how greatly we wrong Him. I’ve hardly ever known a thought so sweet. Maybe that is what it looks like when the Bible says “love covers a multitude of sins.” They are all buried, never to be found again, in this beautiful expanse of a Heart so much bigger and deeper and wider than we could ever imagine. 

Even if this doesn’t translate to being Mozarts of this world, at least we will know that we can be the most vibrantly free Salieris who ever walked the earth 🙂

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