where waves grow sweet

In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You, Lord, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust. Psalm 4:8

I’m on a flight from Baltimore to L.A.  Next to me, almost lying on my shoulder, is a woman wrapped in an enormous floral towel, sleeping deeply. The woman in front of me is fully reclined, pushing my laptop against my body and causing me to type like an old lady with bad vision and curved hands. The flight attendant is walking down the aisle with a three-year old helper and a trash bag chanting, “reduce, reuse, recycle.” The Office is playing on the row of TV’s above the seats, each with the same picture but a different hue, like an Andy Warhol painting. I love to travel.

Fairest Karen & Katherine

Gino & grown-up Elisabeth

The time with Gino and Karen in Maryland was so good for my soul. The conversations were rich and real, as always. I met my four-month old niece, Katherine, held her chubby body, and rubbed my lips on her chicky fuzz head. I laughed with my four-year old niece, Elisabeth, as we made up funny, unflattering stories about her daddy and read silly library books. We drove to Annapolis, ate crab chowder, and took a “beach” trip to the Severn River just a few blocks from the house. The trees were everywhere, wrapped up in leaves and vines, causing everything to be as green as I picture heaven. I was tempted, if ever so briefly, to pack up our stuff and live with them in their lush, humid land.

Ten days away from home has seemed like a long journey. It’s almost as if I’m a different person than when I left. I feel old and kinda worn, like Mickey Rourke in the Wrestler. Not because of hard living, excessive tanning beds, and steroids. More because of a working out of my faith, wrestling through the things that have kept me from the kind of trust I want to have and the freedom that goes with it. But peace is coming to my heart and I’m ready to go home. Which is good, since I’m almost there.

“Don’t remember these earlier events; don’t recall these former events. Look, I am about to do something new. now it begins to happen! Do you not recognize it? ” Isaiah 43: 18-19

Self-portrait in the Amtrak bathroom

I am sitting in the 30^th Street Amtrak Station in Philly with a large latte, a burned tongue, and a sense of awe at all the past week contained. As my new friend, Jacinta, said in her distinct African accent several times this week, “God is good… all of the time.” He was good when I was present and joyful with remarkable people from around the world, worshiping the God I love each morning, learning more of how and why my organization helps the poor. He was equally good when I was overwhelmed by doubt, fear, and a consuming sense of failure over things past; when the floodgates of my eyes opened up and couldn’t be shut again.

I’m not particularly fond of seeing my weakness and wonder from a very proud part of my being if skipping this work retreat would have kept it nicely buried. But then I wouldn’t have been with Jacinta when she picked out a wedding dress for her June wedding in Congo.  Or received the kindness of Chris, a coworker from Atlanta, when my emotions got the better of me. Or laughed with Pastor Jun from the Philippines on our bus trip to the mall.  Or witnessed firsthand the ridiculously artful skit of the interns who had the rest of us beat before we’d even started. And I wouldn’t have experienced the great love of everyone back home covering my world there with grace. Yes, it was a good week. And God was in every single bit of it.

Here I am now, in this grand echoing train station, transitioning into the next leg of the journey with my sweet sister in Maryland… and into a greater level of trust in this faithful God who clothes my weakness with his strength. So I’m going to take my peace, hop on this train, and go forward with a whole lotta joy. Because God is good… all of the time.

I’m on an early morning flight to Philadelphia with a travel pillow in my lap and a rare measure of unoccupied time. Sleep may come to my bleary-eyed self after the half-caff and diet coke wear off, but I can’t pass up this chance to check in. Jeez, I’ve missed you! But where does a slacker blogger begin?

The only way I can describe what’s going on in my world is expansion. I’ve always known the boundaries of the hard and underdeveloped thing in my chest that vaguely resembles a heart. I have wanted so badly for it to flow with love and kindness, but the boundaries of my heart seemed so defined. Not like the dotted lines on a freeway where I can flip on a blinker and throw myself into a lane I deem better, or at least know that I could if I wanted to. Much more like a carpool lane sealed in by two fat yellow stripes, foreboding metal cones, and perhaps a mote of smoldering acid for good measure. So I pretty much figured that my lot in life was to drive alongside, but never truly with, others.

I prayed for it to be different. Sometimes through tears. I wanted to see beyond myself. To love. To have compassion. To give. A few years ago, I came across a verse – in Psalms I think – that said “for you will enlarge my heart.” I clung to it and prayed it would be true. God is faithful. It hasn’t looked like what I thought, because I thought it was about me and my ability to grow into something more. But it’s quite the opposite. It is about me surrendering all that I am and have, including my puny finite love and all the boundaries that surround it, in order to receive the unceasing greatness of his love.

Before he formed me, when I was just a thought in his mind, he loved me. Fervently. Relentlessly. Unconditionally. Before time began, he laid out a plan to show me this love in a painfully tangible way. He gave up what he held closest to his heart so I could be forgiven and gain an intimate understanding of what love looks like. It’s through this understanding that my stony little heart is transforming into something vibrant and living, beating with his life, flowing with his love. Not because I have the ability to expand my boundaries, but because his love obliterates boundaries and brings perfect freedom.

Psalm 119:32

“I shall run the way of your commandments, for you will enlarge my heart.” NKJ

“I will run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.” NIV

“I will pursue your commands, for you expand my understanding.” NLT

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,whether well fed or hungry,whether living in plenty or in want. Philippians 4:11-12

I’m becoming increasingly disinterested with the subject of me, which is a strange feeling after 37 years of pretty consistent self-focus. The implications in my life are yet to be seen, although I imagine they will be good. It’s unclear what that will mean to a blog that revolves around me, and got me considering today whether even to continue writing. But between some helpful feedback from John and my increased interest in letting things work themselves out, I think I’ll just continue to share where I’m at and see where it goes…

After a conversation with a friend a few weeks back, I had a realization that in our many years of friendship I had never known a time when he had been content. Happy, yes. Content, no. There was no judgment attached. It just was. So I mentioned nothing and moved on.

Enter my vanity. As clear as the observation about my friend – and far more piercing – came one about my own perpetual discontentment. I have never in all my life been satisfied with my appearance. Before aging skin came to the forefront of my vision, the fixation was on my features or the way they fit together. And my body – which has been everything from thin to shapely to muscular – has never been quite right either. I had never considered this discontentment… rather legitimate problems that required my attention. Funny how we can justify our own sin and yet see that of others so clearly.

God used that conversation to bring revelation. It didn’t carry judgment or condemnation, but truth. I was uncovered and, in all honesty, shocked by this big blaringly unfruitful expenditure of emotional energy and care in my life.

I remember praying with friends several years ago and this verse from Proverbs came to mind: “beauty is fleeting.” Obviously, outward beauty fades. That’s a reality and makes it a very unsound investment. But something else clicked in me during that prayer time. Beauty is elusive. You go to where you think it will be and it fades like a mirage, leaving you thirsty for the satisfaction you thought was going to be there. So you run for the next promising pool, all the while getting further depleted of that which will actually quench your thirst and deliver the promise.

This is true of every form of discontentment. If we cannot accept who we are, where we are, and what we have – now – we will be kept in a perpetual motion that keeps us chasing after illusions and keep us from the very satisfaction we’re seeking. I believe this with all my heart.

Discontentment is saying that either God is unable or unwilling to provide the best for us. The natural result of this false belief is that we have to go out and get it ourselves. It is fueled by a focus on the world’s standards of what matters, comparisons to others, and a fixation on what we don’t (but should) have. Conversely, contentment comes from recognizing God’s love and power. It is fueled by a knowledge of his character and word, faith in the things he has promised, and an acceptance of his values and priorities.

What this means is that in God we will find true beauty. We will be fulfilled. Every need will be met. And even so many wants. Even if nothing changes on the outside, we will feel pampered by the love of God and spoiled by his goodness. This is freedom. It is what will set us apart from a discontented striving world. And, who knows, maybe they might even want what this beautiful freedom that we have…

Yep, that's what love looks like

Do you ever have those moments where you get it? I mean, when everything just finally makes sense? I remember this happening in school, maybe with a math concept. I generally got the formulas and could plug numbers in and spit out a correct answer. But I didn’t usually understand the concept well enough to apply it to anything more significant than lined paper on a veneer desk. Every once in a while, though, this narrow tunnel of the algebra classroom would shoot me out into this wide open space of understanding. Suddenly those concepts mattered. It was thrilling.

While I enjoy and appreciate algebra, this is way better than that. It is about love and God and life and freedom. Talk about thrilling. I can hardly contain myself. And yet I have no idea how to say it. But I’m gonna try.

It all starts and ends with love. I can’t believe how easy it is to get wrapped up in religion and totally miss this radically life-changing truth. God gave his son because of love. The Son gave his life because of love. For you. For me. For all the jacked up people of this world.

Not because we were deserving. We were – and are – so far from deserving anything but death and judgment. If we haven’t yet seen the contents of our own hearts or reached the end of our own resources, it may be difficult to grasp this. It’s why the Pharisees couldn’t receive from Jesus but the prostitutes and tax collectors could. But it is true. Our very best is putrid and bemired next to the purity of our Lord.

And yet this purity reached into the darkness of our sin and shook the foundations of the earth and our lives with Love. He looked on us with compassion and gave a mercy that cost everything. Because love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

How resistant I have been to lay down my rights. I’ve wanted things in my own way and my own time. I’ve wanted to love the people I deem worthy with the measure I feel capable of. I’ve been fearful, controlling, and manipulative. I’ve been ruled by self-interest, putting my own needs above those around me. How little I’ve understood of love.

Last week I determined to persist in thanking God for loving me. So I wake up in the middle of the night and thank him for loving me. I sit at my desk at work and thank him for loving me. I interrupt my thoughts of self-condemnation and fear to thank him for loving me. Because true love is the only thing capable of true change.

Something interesting has happened in this process. Rather than feeling the expected warm fuzzies toward myself, I have finally been able to see past myself. I have been able to see others; to love them in some measure without regard for myself. How sweet the surrender that allowed this love to flow as it was meant to. It wasn’t ever intended to stop at the edges of me, but to continue on to the ends of the earth.

Love sets us free from the confines of our own way. It is so much bigger, wider, deeper, higher than anything we could ever create with the building blocks of our will and desire. It reaches beyond us, sends darkness running, looses chains, touches hearts, and changes history. It is humble. It is mighty. It does not exclude, but extends itself to all. It can’t be measured, controlled, or contained. It takes no account of wrongs suffered and demands no reciprocation. It is the most beautiful thing that ever existed and it changes everything. All I can say is thank you God for loving me… for loving us… and for pouring your love through us like fresh water on a hot and thirsty world.

Deep In Your Eyes (There Is A River) by Jon Foreman

For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12

Elisabethan Art

Quick story that cracked me up today. I was sorting through a stack of papers and other random things that have been collecting, most of which got filed or shredded. There were a few special items – like art made for me by my niece and nephew, and a few photos that make me smile big. I decided these should be hung on the back of my bedroom door for daily enjoyment, which I quickly accomplished with scotch tape before hurrying out to run errands.

Smiles that provoke smiles

When I got back, I came into my bedroom and took in the love plastered all over the surface of the door. I did indeed smile, partly because of the joyful view but mostly because of how ridiculously crooked everything was hung. I had lined everything up with Elisabeth’s painting of my turtles, which was on a serious slope. As a result, everything else was angled downward on the right. Lined up with each other? Yes. Lined up with the straight edges of the door? Um, no.

It reminded me of the time a while back when I was playing the piano and feeling pretty darn rhythmic. Sure, I didn’t bother to count out the notes and didn’t even really know what some of them meant. But, on the whole, I thought it sounded right and it was more enjoyable to play without those pesky details. I must have been in lessons because I remember the metronome entering my world. It behaved contrary to my sense of rhythm and felt so confining that I let it play in the background while I ignored it and did my own thing.

Eventually, I decided to slow the tempo way down, figure out what the heck the music was telling me to do, and work out the difference. It seemed that I would start in perfect timing before getting off beat and the only way to recover was to start over. Frustrating for sure. Then a change happened. I began to be able to hop back in when I got off beat. I stopped ignoring the persistent tick of the bossy little box, and began taking my cues from it. I started to enjoy the way it enabled me play my music better. Even when I hadn’t turned it on, I could still hear it in my head. It helped and I was grateful.

I don’t have a lot of time to draw deep conclusions but want to say that I am glad beyond measure for the word of God. Not like relativism where it looks okay next to other crooked things or sounds decent in my own estimation, but absolute and perfect… as a guide for life so that the beauty and melody can be displayed in their fullest measure.

Okie dokie. That’s it for now. Hope you have a great night!

A waterfall of grace

If you have ever been to my office, you will know that my desk is littered with yellow post-its of reminders, lists, and bible verses. But only one post-it gets center stage on my monitor, where it is constantly in my line of vision and persistent in its call to my heart. Written with sharpie in my neatest lefty printing is my current center stage post-it, which happens to be one of the most thirst-quenching statements I’ve ever read…

But Jesus turned around, and when He saw her He said, “Be of good cheer, daughter, your faith has made you well.” Matthew 9:22

I spent a very long time – maybe even hours – writing a post on faith and strangling it to death with thought and effort. It missed the simplicity of what I have known as the beautiful words of that verse pour over me like a waterfall; the relief I feel as I picture Jesus speaking them to me.

Some might feel condemned by those words, thinking that they don’t have enough faith to be made well. But faith is not an emotion. It is not brought about by trying hard enough to believe. It is simply an acknowledgement that what God has said is true. It is the same understanding that drew us to Jesus in the first place for the forgiveness of our sins and eternal life. It is as simple now as it was then. And we need him as much now as we did then.

This week has been hard. I managed the first couple of waves with grace, but lost my breath and bearings as they kept coming. Temptation hit and I failed. Insecurity came and I yielded. Doubt whispered and I listened. It is heart-breaking to me when I want so desperately to do what is right and to please God. But he can only be pleased through faith, which cannot be earned or brought about by any measure of my goodness.

So tonight I cling to the robe of Jesus and acknowledge that it doesn’t matter what I see, hear, feel, or know about myself. It doesn’t matter if, like the woman with the issue of blood, I have reached the end of my resources. It doesn’t matter that my goodness is a filthy stench. What matters is that when the Lord looks at me, all he sees is his righteousness. So by faith I say, “Let God be true and every man (including myself) a liar.” And I am trusting that those kind eyes will turn my way and say, “Be of good cheer, daughter, your faith has made you well.”