Posted by: Kara Luker | September 17, 2023

Time for a reset

After taking a beginner pickleball class through my city with a friend, I was hooked. It was social and active and outdoorsy and didn’t require too much athleticism or coordination to jump in, which was very fortunate for us. And yet there were infinite ways to improve, keeping us coming back for more, not to mention the wonderful community of other pickleball addicts – oops – players.

Pickleball videos started pushing out the dog videos and garden photos that typically fill my instagram feed. I began to accrue paraphernalia, like tennis skirts and practice nets, and my week seemed to revolve around many different friend groups that also enjoyed the sport, sometimes dictating both a morning and evening session so as not to be excluded from the fun. To complete the community aspect, several women in our neighborhood established a weekly pickleball playdate on my neighbor’s court, a highlight of our week, complete with a good workout and more laughter than we knew what to do with. Sheer heaven, if you ask me!

It’s not that I got so great at it. But I had ridiculous fun and I did improve. I also learned (probably from all those instagram videos) that there are certain shots that are crucial to understand and eventually master. Maybe the most significant of these is the reset, a dropshot that neutralizes the ball when your opponent has the advantage. It requires restraint because the tendency is to defensively whack a ball that’s coming fast at you, giving your opponent the chance to continue the onslaught before you are ready. Instead, you learn to remove the pace from the ball, softening and shortening the hit, removing their ability to “attack” you with the next ball and giving you time to get into a better position… at which point you can launch an attack of your own. It is a beautiful thing to watch. 

It’s kind of funny that pickleball illustrated this principal for me before forcing me into a real-life application. I think it’s fair to say that it was a bit much to ask my body to go from never having held a paddle to wielding one nonstop for 6 months. Even so, the tightness that developed in my right shoulder didn’t stop me for a moment. I wouldn’t be taken out that easily! When it began to morph into pain, I felt incredibly mature for passing on a few of the many opportunities presenting themselves. Well done, me! Except not so much, because what followed was a compressed nerve that radiated pain down my shoulder and arm, numbed my fingers and dramatically interrupted my life.

Pickleball wasn’t even an option. I mean, I was struggling to have grace for my daily life and family. Pain is kind of consuming like that. To my great relief, one day it seemed like I was turning a corner and I figured I’d be good to go in a few more days. Phew! But the day that followed was wretched. The pain was worse than ever and, despite every attempt to alleviate it, no relief came. Thoughts kept flying hard at me like the balls of an attack on the court. The discouragement of it getting worse; the fear it would never get better. The images of my x-rays conveying a likelihood of many more such scenarios. Growing up in a home where my dad’s back issues and chronic pain told a story I didn’t want to live. It all felt so terrifying and hopeless.

It would have been natural to return the ball just the way it came by continuing this mental conversation of fear, self-pity and discouragement. The problem is that it would fly back at me just as hard, if not harder, when I was still in a weak place. I was in no position to gain any ground. I needed a reset; a neutralizing factor that would buy me time and position me to prepare for an attack of my own. 

The best way I know to do this is through rest. I don’t mean laziness or inactivity, but a restrained and very strategic choice to take pace off the enemy’s onslaught and remove his advantage by pausing in the presence of God. It is a response to pressure rather than a reaction to it and one of the only places I know where the defensive struggles of this world can be neutralized in order to create opportunities for the offensive truth of the Kingdom. 

So I laid down in my bedroom with my face on the cold wood floor as hard, ugly tears came. With raw honesty, I poured out my struggles to the Lord. Eventually my tears quieted and so did my heart. I was entering a place of rest; this was sacred ground and I knew it. Without the urgent voices pressing in, the quiet voice of the Lord started to rise up. It became clear to me that while I had no control over my physical pain, I was under no obligation to take on discouragement or defeat. So I laid them on His altar, both then and when they tried to return. A calmness came over me; an inexplicable peace in the midst of the storm. It became clear which path of treatment I was supposed to take. It was one we had ruled out but which I now knew would be good, not only for the current pain but as a preventative measure for future issues.  

I rose from that floor at peace. The pain remained but it no longer overwhelmed me. I was not backed up against a corner trying to defend myself, but on the solid ground of God’s victorious Spirit, standing in ready position right where I belonged… or, rather, sitting in ready position because the first thing I did after that was to post a blog about grace. Well, it was about flossing and grace. It certainly wasn’t a hard-hitting treatise on either topic, but sharing the gospel that day, in any form, felt like a glorious, empowered counter attack. It was a beautiful thing to experience.

One thing that stood out to me was that the urgency this crisis created enabled me to address some long-standing problems that were otherwise easy to ignore, which definitely puts it in the ‘blessing in disguise’ category. And, really, anything that creates a trajectory toward truth is a blessing, no matter how many ugly cries it takes to get us there. 

One last note is that entering rest is a simple concept, but like that darn pickleball “reset,” I will not pretend that it is easy. And while this one happened quickly for me, that’s not always the case. I’ve had months or years of struggle over certain things to get to that place of rest where I stop defensively entertaining my struggles and move into the offensive truth of the Kingdom, but the upside is that every single time God has walked me through, it has been like a practice drill that makes each subsequent time easier and, oftentimes, quicker… and the benefits more tangible. I can’t help but think of this verse from Isaiah: “This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength.'” Yes and amen. Play on, my friends.

Photo credit: TeamSnap

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Posted by: Kara Luker | September 12, 2023

Life in the fast lane

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I use the carpool lane when I am driving alone. It is only for a mile or two on a particular stretch of the 55 South where it gets backed up. And it is only when I am in a hurry to get somewhere. So really not that egregious, right?

My biggest justification for this choice is that I have had a non-adult child for the past 28 years (Cole was two weeks shy of 17 when Chase was born), so I feel somewhat entitled to a lifetime pass in the carpool lane. Other bits of justification include having my dog in the car. I mean, she may have fur but she is practically human. Anyone would agree, I’m sure. And there’s always the fact that Jesus lives in my heart. That’s gotta count, right? 

I could go on but we all know it’s a bunch of hogwash. It’s wrong and I know it. The problem has been that I haven’t felt strongly enough about the wrongness of it to change my ways. One such time, as I was zipping past all the slowpokes sitting in traffic, I asked the Lord to convict me in a more impactful way than a muted sense of guilt, a purely mental knowledge of wrongdoing or the potential risk of a hefty ticket (for which I’d already worked out my excuse of innocence).  

Sometime last week, I was heading down to Newport, lost in my thoughts, when I realized I was in the carpool lane. No conscious decision had been made. I was just there in the far left lane, flying along as if that is exactly where I belonged. Clearly, a deep enough groove had been formed by all the previous moments of overriding my better judgment that the natural barrier of conscious choice didn’t exist anymore. That can’t be good, I thought. Prayer answered.

I haven’t yet driven down that way by myself since then, so we will see if this actually translates into a change of action – I’ll have to keep you posted on that – but there were a couple things about this experience that served as potent reminders to me. The first is that God is a gentleman who honors the free will he delights to give us, even when it doesn’t result in choices that are ultimately best for us or others. This is a gift I often take for granted. I mean, that’s a pretty crazy level of trust.

The second is that if we repeatedly override our conscience or better judgment, it is very possible that we are tying the hands of our free will, as the natural barrier of choice gets blurred… and then erased altogether. This to me is an even better motivator than the hefty fine California doles out to carpool lane violators.

The third is how much God loves a heart that asks for truth, even in the midst of sin. He won’t turn us away, saying we’ve driven too far or too long down this road to change anything now. We are never locked in so deeply that He doesn’t provide a way back. Plus, His forgiveness for our wrongdoing is so complete that He doesn’t even keep a record of it. Who wouldn’t want to run back into the arms of a God like that?

The last, which I’m sure I will now experience, is that we are not left on our own to make the good choices He shows us. His Spirit empowers our attempts to go in the right direction, no matter how pitiful they may feel and He brings a sensitivity back to our hearts and minds so that we can hear him say, “this is the way, walk in it.” It is no wonder that David, a Biblical figure so known for his sin but paradoxically called a man after God’s own heart, penned this prayer in Psalm 139: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” This is now my prayer too. I have no doubt that it will bring some surprising, transformative insights as I drive down the highway of life with my conscience in tact – and my car patiently sitting in traffic on the 55.

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Posted by: Kara Luker | September 6, 2023

Flossing and grace

For most of my 49 years on this earth, I have had teeth. And for most of my time with those teeth, dentists have been trying to get me to floss them. Despite being repeatedly informed of its value and having issues like receding gums that could benefit from the practice, flossing has always felt like a burden I had no interest in taking on. And then my beloved dentist of a decade stopped accepting my insurance.

My first appointment with my new dentist went surprisingly well. The office was bright and clean, the staff warm and efficient. My teeth were cleaned by the hygienist, Jessica, who was thorough, gentle, had a wonderfully dry sense of humor and shared dental information I actually found useful. Dare I say I actually enjoyed myself? When she asked about flossing, I mumbled as best as I could (through the hands and dental tools in my mouth) that I am a terrible, no good, very bad flosser. By that, I meant it is something that happens twice a year – at my cleanings. She said that no one does it perfectly, not even people who work in a dentist’s office. The place to start, she continued, is not thinking you have to do it every day. “Let’s just aim for a little bit more than you’re doing now and go from there.”

I’d never heard it presented like that. It sounded so darn doable; not like a burdensome obligation but like an invitation I couldn’t help but accept. I mean, if I flossed one single time before my next visit, I’d have succeeded in reaching this goal. So do you know what I did? I came home, pulled out the bag of floss picks that have been sitting beneath my sink since the beginning of time and get this, I flossed. It was fantastic. I mean, earnestly enjoyable. I put the rest of the floss in a jar on my bathroom counter and then I googled how often I can floss because why wouldn’t I want to do this multiple times a day?

I then grabbed another jar of floss, stuck it in Chase’s bathroom and rather excitedly showed him how to do it. The following night, he must have been flossing on his own without being reminded because he came out with a floss pick in one hand and a molar in the other (apparently it not only cleaned in between his teeth but helped dislodge a baby tooth). Clearly, it didn’t feel like a burden to him either – and even resulted in a couple bucks from the tooth fairy.

I’m sure this is such a riveting story that your mind is blown, but wait, there’s more. I recently started a Bible study on the book of Romans in which Paul talks a lot about the law. The law was technically a good thing; a set of rules that showed God’s people what was right and would be good for them. Kind of like flossing, but a bit more comprehensive. The problem was that no one could follow the law perfectly  – not even the religious professionals – so it constantly pointed to their failures, making it a burdensome obligation.

God was no fool. He knew His people couldn’t do it; not even the “best” of them with their noblest intentions and unceasing efforts. At the same time, He was no liar. He couldn’t say sin was good when it wasn’t. He knew the consequences they would suffer by disregarding the law. It was quite a quandary, but not really since God had a plan all along to remove the obligation they had to fulfill the law and put it on Jesus, the only sinless man who was qualified to pay the price for sin. That price of course was death and the proof of His payment was in the resurrection. 

It was kind of like insurance being canceled on our relationship with the law. That might be sad for some people because sometimes rules make us feel safe and we can pat ourselves on the back for the parts we do well. But they can never transform us from the inside out into the people we truly want to be or bring the joy we were meant to have. So this whole changeup is a blessing that sends us to the place that accepts the payment Jesus made. It not only covers every single one of our sins, big and small, for now and forever, for whoever will receive it, but actually imparts righteousness to us in the exchange. That place is called grace.

Instead of constantly pointing to our failures and piling obligations upon us, grace is like this generous, unearned invitation to enter in exactly where we’re at with whatever measure we’re able…. joyfully, because the whole burden of performance is gone. This beautiful gospel lightens our load as we set aside our failures and grab hold of God’s living, beating heart for us and all His people. Oh sure, we will be tempted to live by the law and try to measure up again (if we feel burdened, this is probably why), but once we’ve tasted grace, we can’t help but run home and live in it and bathe it and dance with it and share it. And maybe even floss with it 🙂

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Posted by: Kara Luker | September 1, 2023

A helpful shift

Since Chase, an early riser since birth, usually wakes up nearly 2 hours before he needs to leave for school, we let him have an hour of screen time before getting ready. He treasures that time before we roll out of our room, probably because it is all his, with no interruptions and no demands. This still leaves him plenty of time to eat breakfast and get ready. Well, it would be plenty of time for most people to get ready, but for Chase time just seems to slip through his hands like a pile of water.

This isn’t the worst problem ever and I honestly enjoy all the conversations he initiates in the morning when he is peppy and full of new-day energy, but his distractibility stresses me out. Not only because I want him at school on time, but because we carpool with two other families who are directly affected by his choices. I find myself keeping an eye on the clock and regularly alerting him to the diminishing minutes until his necessary departure. As you might imagine, this nagging is rather unwelcome and, in his opinion, unnecessary, so I am typically given an emphatic, “I know!!!”

Except, even though he “knows,” we sometimes find ourselves running helter skelter toward the honking car out front, with Chase grabbing shoes and socks while I shove his lunch, notebook and such into his backpack and throw it at him as he races through the front door. It’s not exactly what I’d call a peaceful start to the day. 

In a lightbulb moment last week, I remembered the importance of providing clear expectations along with a motivator so he actually wants to choose a better way. I let him know that since he is nearly 11 and old enough to watch the clock for himself, he is responsible for pacing his morning so he’s ready by the time our carpool leaves at 7:45. I will not nag or try to manage his time. If he is not ready on any given day, he will need to be completely ready the following two school days before he can enjoy his screen time, which would essentially eliminate his prized morning alone time.

I made sure he knows that this is not a punishment, but a way to shift things in a positive direction, and there’s no shame if he “fails.” There will simply be another opportunity to try again. I also let him know that I am happy to help him in any way, including helping manage his time, if he decides he needs it.

The rest of the week felt transition-y as I was trying to end my alert system and let him handle the morning, even if it meant upsetting our carpool timing and allowing Chase to feel an uncomfortable consequence. It was surprisingly difficult for me! The weekend seemed to wash things clean like a good rain and Monday morning felt delightful for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe because I was just enjoying Chase and not being so controlling? I was shocked to realize that he was completely ready ahead of our carpool. When I voiced my surprise, he said, “Well what do you expect when I have that consequence hanging over my head??” And then he added, “Well played, mom. Well played.” 

The rest of the week followed suit. It was restful and joyful. While I have been tempted to point to the clock (like this morning when he’d been sitting in front of his food for a full 10 minutes without taking a single bite), I’ve held my tongue, let go and enjoyed our time together. He has been on time – or early – every single day. Who would’ve thought?!

I think as adults we too can succumb to our weaknesses, oblivious to how our choices are affecting the people around us or being okay with solutions that aren’t exactly peaceable. Maybe like Chase, “we know!!!,” but not in a way that actually translates to our actions. And yet we don’t want to be managed… and definitely not micromanaged. Maybe it means we are ready to grow into something bigger and better than the space we are currently inhabiting or choices we are making. 

I believe it is in those seasons that God, a loving parent who doesn’t have my tendency to nag or control, lets us feel the weight of our choices. Not to produce guilt or shame, but to help us want to choose what’s right so we – and the people around us – will be blessed; so there will be peace instead of tension and disorder; so we can fully enjoy this life we have. He is always there with a helping hand when it turns out we don’t know as much as we thought we did or now that we realize we want something better, we can’t seem to choose it. Because He loves us and is always working to grow us into our full potential. Those around us just might be delightfully surprised by the changes that come as a result. Maybe we will be too. Who would’ve thought?!

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Posted by: Kara Luker | August 21, 2023

A joyful return

Knowing that she will get a treat if she stops barking, Sunny, our family dog, often now regulates herself without the once-necessary command and then races to find me for her reward. There are times when she doesn’t utter a single noise before her self-control sets in, but there are plenty of other times when it takes her a number of barks to remember her training and seek out her reward. Because of the latter, more frequent scenario, Chase recently told me he thought this approach was rewarding her for barking and was therefore reinforcing the opposite behavior I wanted.

The same could be said for my approach with Sunny’s affinity for dashing out the front door. I’d love to say she comes back the moment I call her, but that’s rare. More often than not, she does some zoomies around the front yards of a few neighbors, picks one to pee on and then heeds my call, at which time, despite the belated obedience, she is rewarded. 

Chase’s viewpoint is totally understandable and maybe he is right, but the way I see it is that Sunny probably isn’t going to grasp the nuances of how many barks are acceptable before choosing to stop or how much time or distance she can spend away from our front door before coming back.. yet, anyway. She needs it kept simple. If she stops barking at any point, yay! If she comes back to me, it’s a win! Her delayed obedience isn’t a cause for shame, which is an ineffectual tool that creates separation, but a reminder that she needs ongoing training which can’t help but draw us closer and reinforce what is good. But of course, she doesn’t need to know any of that… just that it is a joyful thing to return to me.

I think God takes a very similar approach with us. He doesn’t condemn us for all the things we are getting wrong or how delayed we are in the responses that bless us, others and Him, but He celebrates every single moment we choose to turn toward Him and what He has taught us. “Yay!,” He might say. “That’s a win!” There are certainly consequences that can happen as a result of our choices, just like the possibility of Sunny getting hit by a car when she’s racing around, but there is no longer any shame attached. Any poor choices simply point to an area where we lack understanding and need a bit more training, but we don’t even need to grasp that. All we need to know is that, no matter where we have been or for how long or why, there joy every time we return to Him.

So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1

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Posted by: Kara Luker | August 17, 2023

Qualified

Hey friends! It’s been so long! How are you? Chase started 5th grade today and I finally have time to sift through the thoughts that have been coming and going during this lively, unstructured season.

The first words out of my mouth on my walk this morning were of thanks to God for these past few months. It wasn’t just that the sun finally came out after a very gloomy spring or that we got to spend time with a whole lot of people we love or that we got to do so many fun things. It was that I was able to enter into this season and all it contained with a sense of joy and of belonging.

You see, I’ve always had this sense that I’m disqualified from participating in life, almost as if I have to apologize for being here. Or, at the very least, contribute something of value to earn my place or prove my worth. The problem is that I’ve never felt smart enough or talented enough or good enough or brave enough to feel like I actually belong. 

And yet, here I am, in the midst of an amazing community, having done nothing to deserve it and realizing that I do belong. It’s not that I have become any of the things I felt lacking in. It’s that it’s finally sinking in that I don’t have to be those things to be worthy or enter in. I’m enough as I am. And I always was. 

This doesn’t mean I never experience the familiar anxiety of “performing well” or that the old accusation of disqualification doesn’t rear its ugly head, but those things have been dwarfed by the very real enjoyment of showing up and all the fulfillment it brings. I can’t tell you how often my soul is brought to its knees in amazement and gratitude. 

I just wanted to share that with you and thank you for being part of this community that has loved me so well. And just in case you need to hear it, you are enough too. And you always were.

It is not that we think we are qualified to do anything on our own. Our qualification comes from God. 1 Corinthians 3:5

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Posted by: Kara Luker | May 15, 2023

Living Stories

Last week, Chase was grilling me about my writing to discern whether it is a job or a hobby and decide whether or not I should be allowed to do it on our family’s tech-free-Tuesdays. Since I write inconsistently and don’t get paid for it, we agreed it’s currently a hobby.

“But I’m trying to write a book,” I said, “which would make it more of a job, right?”

“Well, yeah. What’s the book about?” 

“It’s a memoir,” I explained. “I only have a little bit down on paper but lots of it written in my mind, which obviously doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Well, no one can read it while it’s still in my head, right?”

“Haha, I guess not.”

Which is clearly true. While a mental seed is the necessary precursor to everything I write and sometimes I even let it grow and take shape in my mind, it still has to work its way from the inside to the outside through the sometimes-arduous writing process for others to be able to read it. 

How true that is of our lives as well. Paul tells the Corinthians: “Clearly, you are a letter from Christ… This ‘letter’ is written not with pen and ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. It is carved not on tablets of stone, but on human hearts.” You guys, we too are a letter from Christ, written by the living God. Who wouldn’t want to read that story? 

And yet so often we let it stay on the inside where the transformative love and power of God can’t be seen and “read” by others. I don’t say this to guilt any of us into trying harder to be good people who represent God better. That just sounds exhausting and we’ll never get it right. But I think there is an important piece in surrendering to His process and allowing the radical transformation we’ve undergone by receiving His love and forgiveness to work its way first through our understanding and then outward into our lives. I can’t help but think that’s a story that people will gravitate toward. Like the way Moses was drawn to the burning bush that wasn’t consumed. 

Again, I’m not talking about being good church-going folks dressed in big smiles and our Sunday best. But about people who are so rooted in the relentless love of God that when disaster strikes, we stand in the hope that God will redeem even the worst of circumstances and use them for our good – and for the benefit of others, because His light swallows up darkness. We grow in peace when the world is falling apart around us and fear seems like the natural response because we know we are secure in our Father’s care. We take no offense when judgment or rejection come our way because we live from a place of undeniable acceptance. We reach out with compassion and self-sacrifice toward those around us, whether they are deserving or not, because we grasp the reality that we too were (and are) undeserving of the costly, boundless compassion given to us. This is the story written on our hearts by the Spirit of the Living God. This is the story we were born to tell. 

I’ll leave you with the words of Horatio Spafford who, after the death of his son and his financial ruin that resulted from the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, lost all four of his daughters in a shipwreck in the Atlantic. These are certainly not circumstances anyone would envy, and yet I think so many crave the story of unshakeable security told in this hymn he penned on the way to meet his grieving wife…

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
A song in the night, oh my soul!

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 26, 2023

A new set of wings

John whispered to Chase, “Mom is a pickleball fanatic” as I left the house to play with a few women in my neighborhood yesterday. The opportunity sounded too fun to pass up, even though I’d already played earlier in the day. I’m not yet capable of playing very competitively, but I did find an opportunity to hit an aggressive shot, after which one of my neighbors joked, “It’s always the innocent ones you have to look out for!”

In a non-pickleball-related conversation recently when a friend and I were talking about our strengths and identities, she immediately spoke of my gentleness. I was giggling in bed last night as I asked John, “Who would ever have thought I would be seen as innocent and gentle??” I mean, those are lovely words and I think they are mostly true, but if you could look back in time, they are probably the last ones you’d choose. You’d more likely have lead with angry, manipulative or self-destructive; or maybe just “hellion” to keep it simple.

But that’s how transformation works. You have a starting point and then something happens in the middle that makes the ending point look a lot different. Maybe like a caterpillar, cocoon and butterfly. My starting point was essentially a mistaken identity, crawling on the ground with my belly in the dirt because I thought that’s where I belonged. Jesus entered the picture, wrapped me up in his love and helped me grasp my true identity. Without realizing exactly what was taking place (it’s kind of hard to see in a cocoon), I found myself on the other side with a new sense of joy and a beautiful set of wings.

Don’t get me wrong. I am no angel. John can testify to that. And my gentleness goes away in a hurry if I feel passionate about something. But there is no doubt that a radical transformation has taken place. I’m not what I was. I truly didn’t think that was possible. And yet at the same time, I am who I always was because my identity was (and always will be) fixed and secure. The best part is that this transformation didn’t come about by trying to change, but simply by spending time with Jesus and learning what was true.

There are some areas in my life where transformation is wanted and needed and still on the horizon, so I’m writing this as an encouragement to myself but also to anyone out there who is walking in a mistaken identity (maybe without even realizing it yet), struggling with what your life or behavior looks like, and feeling hopeless that change is possible. If God can do it for me, He sure as heck can (and will) do it for you.

p.s. If you haven’t stumbled upon Jamie Winship, I can’t encourage you enough to listen to one (or a dozen) of the many podcasts he’s been interviewed on or to read his book, Living Fearless, to learn more about walking in your true identity and to hear some amazing stories along the way.

Part 1 of 3 with Jennie Allen: Conflict Zones, the CIA, and Listening to God

Living Fearless by Jamie Winship

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 6, 2023

A blazing testimony

Having slacked on the homework for my bible study covering the first half of John, I was determined to do better as we launched into the second half so I could fully soak in the material and get the most out of our group time. Yesterday I took the time to complete the first lesson and, wow, I was not disappointed. 

We enter at John 12 into the nearly-completed ministry of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Lazarus is reclining at a dinner held in Jesus’ honor ahead of the Passover feast . A large crowd of Jews finds out Jesus is there and comes, not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus. This isn’t because of Lazarus’ wonderful qualities, charisma or achievements, but because he had been dead for four days and now, thanks to Jesus, is alive again. It’s certainly not something you see every day.

The crowd that had witnessed this miracle is continuing, as you might imagine, to spread the word. People are drawn, out of curiosity or a thirst for truth, to see with their own eyes this resurrected man walking around as though his body hadn’t been recently dead and decaying. Not only Jews but also Greeks and, according to the Pharisees, “the whole world,” is going after Jesus because of Lazarus. The Pharisees are so flustered and threatened by this fact that they plan to help Lazarus meet death (again) as quickly as possible, no doubt crossing their fingers that if they succeed, he stays down this time.

What struck me about all of this is that Lazarus can take no credit for this miracle. He was dead when it happened, after all. And yet, because of the new life he was given, his very existence is a blazing testimony of God’s love and power. Every breath, step and interaction is a marvel that draws people to see and know Jesus. This thrills me to the core. Because that’s us, you guys! We were once dead. In our sins. In our own understanding. Stuck. Enslaved. Entombed. There was no way to slow the decay. And then, by no merit of our own, God reached into death and pulled us out. We now walk in resurrection life and, like Lazarus, our very existence is a blazing testimony of who God is. I mean, wow. 

I know sometimes we don’t recognize the miraculous glory inhabiting our own lives, let alone think it’s a blazing fire for the world to see. But it’s there, smoldering, flickering and yet, like the burning bush Moses encountered, we are not being consumed… not by the darkness of this world or by the trials we face. People will be drawn. Not to us but to Jesus who saved us and gave us new life. Can I get an amen?!

Photo: Moses & the Burning Bush, Oil painting by Deana Harvey

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Posted by: Kara Luker | April 4, 2023

A revised equation

Having been plunked down by God into the middle of an amazing church, neighborhood and circle of friends, I’ve been drawn out of my cozy, controlled cave into the somewhat uncomfortable – yet decidedly joyous – realm of community. It’s something I’ve longed and prayed for but at times, especially in group situations, I’ve felt old insecurities rise up alongside the ugly fear of rejection. 

My thoughts might start like this: “It’s so great to feel comfortable enough to contribute to the conversation, but wow I talked a lot. I mean, like I kinda dominated the conversation. That’s pretty obnoxious.” Usually it ends there and I realize I have pretty amazing friends who love me despite my shortcomings, but recently I felt especially vulnerable and let myself conclude that I had been (rightfully) judged and rejected, and even allowed myself to read into cues that likely held no significance… “Is she avoiding me? Probably. I would avoid me too.”

If I continued to let this play out, I would probably create distance between me and the people I believed did (or should) reject me, removing me from this community I actually want to be in. Or I might try to compensate for my negative behaviors, which is doomed to be a major flop since it only increases my self-focus, resulting in an exaggeration of insecure behaviors and taking me further away from the potential ease of being my actual self.

I think it’s fair to add that rejection might not be falsely perceived. There are going to be people who don’t like me or approve of me. That is a scary thought; one that tells me that I have bought into the lie that if people don’t like me (or I don’t like myself), I’m unacceptable and deserve to be rejected, as if my identity is a fragile thing that can be damaged by other people’s opinions of me (or my opinion of myself).

It makes me think of an equation that goes something like this:

Me + An inability to fit in = Rejection

I’ve spent a good portion of my life believing that equation, but with Jesus it simply isn’t true. In Him, I’m loved… from the very source of love. I’m accepted… by the one who created me and defines my identity. His presence with me in any circumstance changes the whole system by which I calculate any and all answers and conclusions. The equations that can now be proven by His true measure go something like this:

Me + Jesus + An inability to fit in = Loved, accepted & worthy of relationship

Me + Jesus + A whole lot of awkwardness = Loved, accepted & worthy of relationship

Me + Jesus + Talking way too much = Loved, accepted & worthy of relationship

Me + Jesus + Not being fun/smart/talented enough = Loved, accepted & worthy of relationship

As I was reflecting on this after that whole hyper-sensitive over-reaction, I knew I’d been “had” by an enemy who wants to keep me chasing after the acceptance I already have and desires nothing more than to shame and isolate me. He wants to block me not only from receiving love from people but from loving them back – in my utterly unique capacity, from the security of my true identity. So I started thanking God for His acceptance of me and fixing my mind on what that means. In no time at all, the weight of fear was lifted and I could see clearly again, without the filter of rejection.

Did this instantly set me at ease will all people? Um, no. Learning is a process. These are truths I have to practice, just like the game of pickleball I’m learning. Once I have an understanding of the game, the only way I’m going to get better is by showing up again and again, making some really terrible shots and hopefully some good ones too, and then showing up and doing it again. At some point, muscle memory will develop and it will become a lot less awkward and a lot more fun. So I am going to keep practicing acceptance in community, which is the only place where I will truly grow into the freedom and joy and occasional awkwardness of being me.

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