where waves grow sweet

God’s way is perfect. Psalm 18:30a

You’ve seen karate kid, right? If not, you are missing out on one of the great movies of the 80’s and should immediately add it to your netflix queue. A brief summary just in case… A high school kid, Daniel Laruso, needs to learn karate for self-defense but can’t afford the local dojo (which happens to be where all the bad guys train anyway). He is befriended by Mr. Miyagi, an old Japanese guy who works at his apartment building, loves bonsai trees, and is willing to teach him old school karate… and life.

Insert us into this scene, except instead of wanting to learn karate to defend ourselves from motorcyle-riding high school kids with cool hair and nasty karate chops, we want to defend ourselves from the sin that is beating us down. And, in our case, it’s God showing the way; not Pat Morita. But the rest of it is pretty much the same.

There’s a pretty powerful scene that sums up our spiritual walk. Daniel has recognized Mr. Miyagi’s impressive skill, has decided that he wants to tap into it, and has agreed to trust the methods of this little old bonsai-tree-lovin’ man. But instead of learning karate, he spends days doing manual labor for Mr. Miyagi, and decides he’s fed up with his ‘training.’ If you’ve got three minutes, here’s the clip:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4dkuYro4t8

The problem here isn’t that Daniel’s desire to learn karate has waned or that he is physically incapable of completing his training. It is that he doubts the character of his teacher. He sees no forward progress, and elevates his own understanding above that of Mr. Miyagi. The result is discontentment, a bad attitude, and (almost) a relinquishment of his only hope of victory.

Strangely familiar. What has struck me repeatedly this past week is my sense of self-importance. I feel like I’m stuck waxing cars and painting fences when I really want to be out there doing the real training. In my mind, I know that the things he has me doing now are building the necessary strength and form to do the next step of training well, but in my heart I feel hemmed in and antsy. And, if I’m honest (which I am), I feel frustrated as all get-out, like maybe I know what I need better than God.

Here’s the thing. He has orchestrated my life and called it good. I am where he has called me to be. He has made a place for everything that matters to him at this point in time. Everything that matters to me? No. Probably not. But this is where one viewpoint or the other is going to get elevated. Unfortunately, it’s been mine lately. Which has caused me discontentment, a bad attitude, and (almost) a relinquishment of my hope of victory. Because victory of faith comes through a childlike trust in God.

Here’s the other thing. God wants way more for us than we do. He doesn’t just want us to be able to mend our bad habits, or defend ourselves from sin. He wants us to be on the offensive; to come into a full measure of freedom; to regain territory in our own lives and lead others into the same. This requires training of a different sort. The kind that doesn’t look by outward appearance or circumstance; that sees not by the natural but by the spirit. It is the kind that can grow strong in a concentration camp or a cubicle or a laundry room. There is often little to show on the outside – for a long while – because the roots are going down deep; the foundation being laid far beneath the surface. Though we say we want this kind of faith manifested in our lives, we would likely settle for a blade of grass or a dog house that we could see right away. But God knows better. Not only does he know the true desires of our hearts, but he knows what he created us for. And he is not a God of compromise.

Huh. That went a totally different direction than I was anticipating. Well, I guess what it comes down to is: Do we trust his character, no matter what the training looks like?

Afflicted city, lashed by storms and not comforted, I will rebuild you with stones of turquoise, your foundations with lapis lazuli. I will make your battlements of rubies, your gates of sparkling jewels, and all your walls of precious stones. Isaiah 54:11-12

I know I share a lot of dreams and mental images. It is the way I understand things, so one of the primary ways God shows me stuff. Kind of like the way he talks to me. Arabic might be neat and exotic, and I’m sure he speaks it flawlessly, but I just wouldn’t get it. So he talks to me in English and shows me things in pictures.

Right after I moved to Colorado about 10 years ago, I had a dream. I had an awesome dream. Sorry – Lionel Richie flashback. Anyway, in this dream I was building a brick wall, which was almost complete. There were only 4 or 5 bricks missing, all in the very middle. My unorthodox way of building was to slide each brick in from the side. As it fit in place, it was sealed perfectly – not with mortar but with a flash of gold. I know a brick wall doesn’t sound beautiful, but it was. I knew it to be my life, the way the Lord was establishing something strong and sound, in which nothing was wasted. The tidiness of the image was significant because of a history of bad choices that, in my mind, looked tremendously messy and nothing at all like this flawlessly constructed wall… worked on with my hands and perfected by God.

Nearly three years later, when I was about to move back to California, I was walking around my neighborhood letting my heart say goodbye. In the midst of my reflection, I saw in my mind the same brick wall from my dream 3 years before. It was now complete. The picture panned around the corner where I saw another side of the wall. This one was so delightful it took my breath away. Embedded in the bricks were hundreds or thousands of jewels in whimsical designs. In fact, the brick was hardly noticeable anymore. I knew it wasn’t a reflection of my life at that moment, but a picture of what was to come.

As I step back and observe what God has done in these past 7 years since moving back, I see so clearly the joyful shapes of sparkling jewels embedded in my world. All I can do is smile and lift up my heart in thanks.

There was more I wanted to tie into this but that seems like such a sweet note to end on… and it does happen to be quite late. So I’ll leave you with that, wish you the loveliest of dreams, and write more soon.

The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.  He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145:18-19

I would love to bring you something deep or spiritual tonight. Maybe I could; it’s hard to say. But the thing I seem to be competing against is time. There simply seems to be a lack of it. Which brings me to my fairly superficial post, which can hopefully be written with great speed.

A passionate person, I think I’ve always been. But, until recently, I never had worthwhile things to be passionate about. The fact that there are now so many things I really, really want to be doing is exciting and enchanting. But when those things are set alongside the obligatory parts of my day, there is just a shortage of time or a shortage of sleep or a shortage of some other essential life product.

What it feels like is that I’ve got a meal planned out. I go to the grocery store, going carefully down my list to make sure I’ve grabbed all the ingredients. I get to the register only to find that the items in my basket add up to more than the cash in my wallet. So I’ve got to put something back. But what? If I had a box of donuts or magazine I’d grabbed at the checkout stand, I’d reluctantly put them back and head out with the ingredients for my meal. But I don’t. So I stare blankly at the contents of my basket, confused and unsure about which part of the meal is unnecessary.

Maybe I’m being melodramatic. Probably. I’m a passionate person, remember? But my time mostly seems to be very purposeful and intentional, with very little extra in the basket to remove.* At the end of most days, I arrive at the register with too many items and not enough cash. And a sense of confusion about what to put back. So, often I blow off my limitations, stay up really late, and put it all on my figurative credit card. But then I’m in debt all week and crash by Friday.

This simple matter of time points to the greater tension I feel of wanting to break fully through into a new place, but being stuck in and obligated to an old place. I won’t go into the details of this right now, but it is bringing this internal sense of desperation. Maybe like a butterfly feels when it decides it’s time to break free from that straightjacket of a cocoon. Jeez. Now I know I’m being melodramatic.

What this really makes me wonder is how the rest of humanity handles this. Do you go without doing the things you love to do? Do you just measure them out in smaller doses? It breaks my heart to think of knowing what you love to do and not being able to do it. Or to love people and not to have time for them. I’m now crying at the thought. But maybe it’s about surrendering every single thing and every single person, letting go of every sense of entitlement about personal passions and egotism about importance, and allowing God to make room for the things that matter in the bigger scope of his view.

I’m not sure what all this means and where this process will lead. But, despite the tears, I’m sure it will be good.

*In saying this, I do realize that my life to many would look like a basket full of donuts and magazines.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. Matthew 7:7

So much better than a mud puddle

In a recent conversation, my boss said, “We don’t let go of something until we have a picture of something bigger.” Like all important things, I wrote it on a yellow post-it and stuffed it in my cluttered blue purse. It was a treasure to come across yesterday in the pocket that belongs to my keys and chapstick.

Some of the biggies I’ve struggled with are fear, self-hatred, rebellion, and addiction. I will not pretend that I’ve arrived, but holy moly, can I tell you how far I’ve come in these areas? When I was focusing on the weaknesses themselves, they grew to monstrous proportions, pursued me with burning eyes and flaming breath, took me down, and threatened me with worse if I ever challenged them again.

But they’ve lost power. Why? Because I stopped doing hand-to-hand combat with them. Instead, I took their accusations before the Lord and asked him what he had to say. He spoke the truth, which defeats lies by exposing their naked, defenseless selves. Beyond just asking him about the accusations, I started pursuing the truth of who he is, which is intricately connected to my understanding of who I am.

So what has that looked like for me? Through his word and spirit and community, I have seen a bigger picture… of a trustworthy faith instead of fear, an overcoming love instead of hatred, the freedom of obedience instead of rebellion, and resurrection power over addiction. How could these lesser things stand in light of something so blindingly pure?

I remember reading something C.S. Lewis wrote in mere Christianity. This is a poor paraphrase, but he said that we are content to forego a trip to the sea in order to play in our familiar mud puddles – because we have no understanding of how much greater the sea is. How true it is that we hold onto inferior thoughts of ourselves, God, and others because we haven’t yet had a picture of something bigger to cause us to doubt these lesser things and let them go.

I will leave you with a youtube clip of one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard: Pie Jesu by a ten year old named Jackie Evancho. The lyrics (in English) are as pure as the angelic voice.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=a14HPZvDaJM

I had to do some work tonight instead of writing, and will have to save what I was going to say for another time. I hope your heart is not too badly bruised by this news. But I would like to pass along a devotional by Andrew Wommack that my mom, who appears to be two days ahead in her reading, passed along…

God’s Kind of Love is Content

Charity envieth not. 1 Corinthians 13:4

God’s kind of love is not envious. The dictionary defines envy as “discontented desire or resentment aroused by another’s possessions, achievements, or advantages.” A person who is discontent or resents others who have more things, talent, or a better job, is a person who doesn’t appreciate God’s love for him or her. If they would receive God’s love for them, a supernatural contentment would settle in their lives.

Discontentment is envy and is at the root of all temptation. Take Adam and Eve as an example. Before the devil could get them to sin, he had to make them discontented. That was no small chore. How do you make people who are living in perfection dissatisfied? They had no needs. They had never been hurt or abused. They couldn’t blame their actions on their dysfunctional family. However, the devil made them believe they were missing out on something. He made two people, living in paradise, dissatisfied with perfection. That’s amazing!

This shows us that contentment isn’t a state of being but a state of mind. If perfect people living in a perfect world could become discontented, then certainly imperfect people living in an imperfect world can be discontented. That’s why the Bible admonishes us to learn to be content in all states. (Phil 4:11) Only God’s love will give us the contentment we desire.

Ask the Lord for a deeper revelation of His love for you today. Realize that any discontentment is envy, and God’s love is the antidote for this crippling attitude. Being content in His love is what will keep you from temptation.

“But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” Romans 8:24-25

My friend, Sarah, asked me yesterday to encapsulate my life this year in a word. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to say anything in one word. So I picked two: hopeful patience. Or patient hopefulness. I can’t decide the order. Regardless, it is clear that God is working on these things, buoying my patience with hope and tempering my hope with patience.

Just as the appreciation of a meal is increased with hunger or the enjoyment of a friend intensified by a long absence, delight in God’s gifts multiplies itself through a patient, unyielding faith.  So I wait with anticipation for the things he has put in my heart, the things that he has called me to, the things he is unfolding in his sweet and perfect way.