where waves grow sweet

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Phillipians 4:6

This year, my family and I have been learning a new (well, new to us), ridiculously effective approach to prayer. Instead of harassing the heavens with the same request day after day, we have been asking God to meet whatever need it is, thanking him that he is going to meet it, and leaving it there in his hands (as opposed to talking to him about it and then walking away with it tucked neatly under our arm). We then go about enjoying his company. When tempted to beg for that same thing as though he didn’t hear us the first – or tenth – time, we go back to thanking him.

There does seem to be a need for persistence, but it’s got to be persistence of the right sort. The sort that decides we are going to rejoice in the Lord always (have you ever noticed how many freaking times the bible tells us this?). I don’t really get everything that goes on in the spiritual realm when we do this, but it feels like, through faith, a pathway to heaven is cleared and God is freed up to do the work he does so well.  Not only do things get accomplished, but we get to rest all the way. To illustrate, I would love to share a few delectable examples from our household during the span of one week this summer. They may be a bit strange, but are most certainly true.

My mom’s watch went missing. She is not attached to many material things and would be fine without her watch, but she really loved it and didn’t want to have to buy another one. There had been cleaners in our house the day it disappeared, but she refused to point the finger. Instead, she presented her request to the Lord and then thanked him that he would show her where it was. Every time she was tempted to ask again or strive to find it, she came back to thankfulness. In a dream a night or two later, she saw her watch tucked in the cushion of the armchair in our living room. She woke up the next morning and went straight to the armchair she saw in her dream, expecting to reach down and feel the silver links but, alas, it wasn’t there. Instead of griping or doubting, she went back to thanking God. A short while later, it struck her that we have an identical armchair sitting across the coffee table from the one she checked. When she reached behind the overstuffed cushion of that chair, lo and behold, there was her watch tucked away just as she saw in her dream.

I was doing some online grading for a high school. Though I was familiar with the program, I couldn’t remember where to find my team of students so I could grade the right assignments. I felt thwarted, annoyed, and frustrated. And perhaps a bit dull for not remembering. I was driving myself mad recklessly checking every nook and cranny of the seemingly relevant tabs. As a very last resort, I decided to ask God to help me. I sent up an unemotional thanks that he would work it out, and took a nap. As I was waking up from a luscious sleep, I saw in my mind a picture of my computer screen and my eyes were drawn to the second tab from the left which said “Rosters.” I thought, “Of course – rosters!!” So I flung off the blankets, grabbed my computer, and opened the program. To my dismay, the second tab from the left was called “Communicate.” Having nothing to lose, I clicked on the tab. Right there, before my very eyes, was a link to Rosters, which turned out to be very thing I needed. Now it would be easy to say that it was in my mind all the time, and maybe it was. But what I know is that I was wearing myself out trying to get there. Instead I was able to rest, quite literally, and let my daddy provide.

Last story. My (human) dad was going to order something one night over the phone, and realized his wallet was missing. He prayed and had and immediate impression that it was in the trash. It was late and my mom, who rises before dawn, thought it could wait until the morning when she could help look. But Dad felt an urgency. Unfortunately all the wastebaskets had been emptied into the big ones outside and rolled to the curb for an early morning pickup. Bless dad’s grimy hands for going through those trashcans out on the curb in the very dark night – vertigo, jacked up spine, and all. He found his wallet, exactly where he knew he would, and was kept from a whole lot of unenviable work and needless trouble.

So the moral of the stories seems to be that when we put things in God’s hands, we can rest knowing he will lead us in just the right way at just the right time. The end.

All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong in our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teaches us to do what is right. 2 Timothy 3:16 NLT

In a world where everything is relative, it is hard to define what is right. We are given free reign to choose our own brand of goodness, our own version of truth. Even what is real seems up for grabs. There is no solid ground to stand on in this world, where even our own hearts deceive us. It is no surprise so many of us are confused, anxious, depressed, and tormented. We keep insisting on our rightness, continuing on our own paths, and are surprised when things keep turning out the same crappy way. Good old Albert Einstein called this insanity.

If you’ve ever watched a show called Hoarders, you’ve probably been alternately intrigued, baffled, and saddened. It is hard to comprehend how someone could be grieved and panicked to get rid of a rotten pumpkin, a broken toilet seat, or a collection of malnourished cats. It is clear to an onlooker that something in the thinking of these people that has gone awry and interfered with their ability to live a healthy life, but in the hoarder’s view their actions seems right, the need to keep the toilet seat easily justified.

We are often just as guilty. Our homes may be in order, but our minds are cluttered with things as stale as the four year-old cat poop on a hoarder’s floor or as putrid as the bloated milk carton on their table. We consider certain thoughts and viewpoints, which have brought about nothing good, as treasures to be guarded rather than trash to be tossed. The bigger the mental garbage heap grows, the more tightly we cling to it. All the while, our relationships are sacrificed and our lives compromised.

Since, as Einstein so simply stated, “we cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them,” we’ve got to change our thinking. The only thinking based on something higher than human understanding is the Bible. It’s not just about the words on the pages that wash our crusty minds and renew our thinking, but of the living Spirit inhabiting those words who ignites our hearts and sets our imaginations on fire. I can’t encourage you – and me – enough to grab that book, read it, soak it in, chew on it, and ask the God of the universe to reveal his perfect, unchanging truth.

To God’s elect… who have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and sprinkling by his blood: Grace and peace be yours in abundance. 1 Peter 1:1-2

The point of Christianity is not self-denial. Really. Truly. I got stuck there for a while and it was miserable. I wouldn’t have wished my faith on anyone because it was such a constant drudgery of sacrifice and dying. I always thought the hardest possible route was the one that God wanted me to take.  How that got into my head, I’m not really sure, but I thank my good and gracious God for straightening out that very skewed thinking.

Sacrifice for its own sake isn’t true surrender. Surrender is giving up; yielding, so we can be obedient to what God asks us to do. God is not impressed with our altered versions of obedience, no matter how holy and sacrificial they look. I knew a woman who was a hard worker, passionate and committed, staying late to get things done. The only problem was that she didn’t do the tasks her supervisor asked of her. Instead, she poured her heart into projects of her own choosing, which were often completely unrelated to her job. Her actual work was left undone, and her reviews did not go well. She was baffled because she had worked so stinking hard. Go figure.

Let me tell you that the moment you do things your own way, the grace of God in your life will evaporate. You will have to carry that cross by yourself, and you will wear yourself out. I can pretty much promise that you will become embittered toward God for his lack of help, and toward others who are living abundantly in his grace. I make this promise based on extensive personal experience. There is also a subtle clue in the Bible where it says that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. There is no greater pride than doing Christianity our way. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the thought of the creator of heaven and earth opposing me.

The other side of this is the joyful, glorious, amazing lifegivingness of true surrender. It has taken me a lot of years to be able to say that, and I don’t exist there all the time. But holy moly it is so worth anything he asks us to do. If he asks us to forgive someone (FYI, he asks us to forgive everyone), it is because it will bless us, it will bless others, and it will bless him. And we will not have to carry what we weren’t meant to carry, which means that we can be carefree and trusting like little kids. When Jesus said that his yoke is easy and his burden is light, he meant it. But it is only true when we are choosing his thoughts, plans, and ways… and receiving his peace, hope, and joy  🙂

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

If I had to pick an archenemy, I imagine I’d quickly spout “satan and his evil entourage!” – that awful clan of darkness that suffocates the truth of God in the hearts of His children and buries them alive in bondage. But as riled up as I can get about satan and his bedfellows and however much I’d like to hate them most, what I really hate is weakness.

Weakness in me, that is. It’s such a fine and beautiful thing for someone else. It looks so earthy and true, even sweet, from the outside. It’s when it’s inside – trespassing the reasonable boundaries of my person – that it loses its poetry. It then feels ugly and intrusive. Like something that should be quickly eradicated by large and violent weapons. It inspires in my depths the fervent opposition I’d like to have for other things more worthy of my passions.

Beyond the great expanse of anger and a determined will, I always seem to find fear. A terrified and trembling panic at being uncovered, made vulnerable, seen for who I really am. In weakness, the things I’d like to believe about myself seem to slip away and leave me with the unedited version of myself. But it wouldn’t matter if I were to believe what I know. That my value is not in strength or independence. Not in beauty or ability. Not in goodness or rightness. So what if my unedited self is often tired, ugly, useless, and mean? But, oh, it has mattered so much. Which is why weakness matters more. Without it, I might actually believe that I had a gram of strength in my natural self or some shred of ability to save myself. I would never reach the end of my flimsy resources and find myself in the infinite resources of an eternal God. I would never step out of lifeless beliefs and into the warm, breathing vibrance of Christ living in me.

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

I had a dream about 10 years ago that really stuck with me. While I realize that most people aren’t interested in reading the bizarre nighttime thoughts of others, I’m going to take a risk and share it anyway.

There was a little toy monkey holding onto a wire and flipping around it incessantly like a gymnast on speed. It was an old-school sort of toy where each time you squeeze the supporting bars, the monkey is set in motion. Even though there was no hand to squeeze life into the tiny creature, he continued to spin frantically, his little wooden joints rattling as his limbs flailed about.

The dream panned out to reveal me… an enormous, perfect, ripe nectarine, much like the giant peach James inhabited on his journey.  I had no arms, hands, fingers; no legs, feet or toes. I was incapable of motion and could only sit in my big, juicy flesh and watch the crazed monkey. Despite this apparent limitation, I cannot express the peace I felt. There have been few times in my life – awake or asleep – when I have known such wellbeing and contentment.

Even so, the monkey’s movement and energy had an appealing draw. I was tempted to set my desire on a similar freedom. But there was a deep sense of knowing that the monkey was striving; that to have his kind of freedom would mean foregoing the overwhelming peace I knew in perfect stillness. It was clearly a poor tradeoff. So contentment won out, the dream ended, and I awoke with a hankering for fresh fruit and a pressing desire to live from a place of rest.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.” Ephesians 6:20

I have been a coward. Despite my roaring, growling attempts to prove otherwise, there has been fear at my core. Fear of failure, fear of inadequacy, fear of rejection, fear of anything and everything. Which, in turn, creates a wad of self pity leading me to grieve my difficult temperament and lack of talents, as well as to envy preferable traits in others.  A tar pit mentality of hopelessness sets in, rendering me paralyzed and useless.

When challenges come my way, this little voice inside cries out, “Run away! Run away!” The urgency and conviction in this voice compels me to run fast and hard. So I hightail it with my hair flying behind me and the contents of my hands tumbling to the ground. I gain a safe distance and feel an immediate sense of relief, quickly followed by a gnawing sense of shame. Nobody likes being a scaredy cat. But more than that, I just know it isn’t who I am.

At work last week, my failures shamelessly exposed themselves, parading around like drunken teens.  There was just no way to silence them. And I knew it wasn’t going to stop there. With events to plan, countless details to manage, and social awkwardness to face – all on display for a visiting executive – I was certain that more failure would follow. It became very clear that I was in the wrong job.

To justify my impending dash, I expressed to God that I simply couldn’t do what He was asking of me. That I just wasn’t made for this sort of work and certainly wasn’t graced with the mind or talents for it. And – hello! – didn’t He ever stop to notice I’m shy and insecure? Is it really necessary to put me in all these required social settings where I can’t hide in a corner? It ended with a desperate, “Please, God, you’ve got to get me out of here.”

Following that pitiful, escapist prayer, I once again felt the Holy Spirit stilling my internal chaos. I mustered up the courage to tell Him that I would like to stay at my job and do it well, but it seemed impossible. I sat quietly and expectantly, waiting for His warm, comforting sentiments to fill my soul and make it all better.

That is when I got a holy smackdown. The Spirit of God said something like this: “Quit whining. Get over it, and move on.” It was like ice water hitting my face, which was exactly what I needed to snap out of my stupor. I didn’t feel condemned, and I didn’t feel coddled. I felt loved and challenged. I was being called out by my Dad to something greater. And, in the process, the impossible got flipped on its head.

Running didn’t seem so desirable anymore. And continuing haphazardly with a pocketful of excuses didn’t seem too appealing either. So I set out to do a good job with who I am and what I have. I have been working from a new place of authority – one of belonging. And, to my surprise, I am cranking it out and doing a mighty fine job. Of course I will fail again, but that was never the problem. Fear was the problem. But I am seeing that in Christ, I’m not the coward I thought.

After a lifetime of rebellion and willfulness, I’m finding a safety and joy in what is good and right. Less and less do I find myself stomping, kicking, snorting, and tearing a destructive path to freedom. I now find myself laying down that very freedom for something better, and am being given so much more than I could ever take.

**

I started writing this post while waiting for Cole to get out of school last week. It was at the tail end of a very intense couple of months, and I was highly anticipating the following Saturday morning when I could finally indulge myself in a rich, late, and lazy sleep. It is hard to describe how much I felt I had earned and deserved a day of rest.

My writing was interrupted when Cole jumped in the car. The first words from his mouth were that he had a detention on Saturday morning. I wasn’t mad at Cole – the detention was for tardies, which was partially my fault.  And I wasn’t mad at the school because I fully agreed with the consequence. But I was mad. Hopping mad. Mad that the freedom of my Saturday, my deserved and needed rest, was stolen from me. I could see the irony of the situation in light of what I had just been writing, but my fury was stoked and I could feel myself stomping, snorting, and starting to kick.

Then a very cool thing happened. The Spirit rose up in me and quieted my soul. In a matter of minutes, my anger was gone and I had fully embraced the idea of this detention. I was even grateful for it, knowing it would provoke change in a necessary area of our lives. I was able to walk Cole forward in what was right, and we made some changes to improve our routine.

Cole did his detention and had a great attitude. I got plenty of rest, and a good dose of joy.  It is possible – maybe even likely – that we will get another weekend detention, but it’s this sort of thing that is shaping us into the kind of people we want to be.

**

So I now come back to where this post started… finding joy in the narrow road of surrender that leads to every wide, open space.

My boss, Mike, was leading a recent board meeting. After lunch, during an earnest discussion of the topics, I noticed a small breadcrumb on Mike’s chin. Sitting across the table, I tried to catch his eye and sent increasingly obvious signals in his direction. But my attempts availed nothing and the tiny distracting crumb stayed put.

After the meeting, I went to the restroom where I noticed a seed in my teeth… an enormous black seed displayed prominently between the front teeth I used to flash my winning smile throughout the afternoon. I erupted in laughter before the mirror as I realized the absurdity of obsessing over an insignificant object on Mike’s face while hosting a blaring one on my own. What was that verse about taking the plank out of your own eye before removing the speck – or crumb – from someone else’s?

A job possibility arose a short while back. I was almost entirely uninterested until I had an engaging phone call with the owner and the revelation of a great salary. By the following morning, I had mentally paid off my son’s books and uniforms, my trip to Colorado this Christmas, and the haircut I really need. I’d even gotten so far as to imagine myself moving out of my parents’ home, where I’ve been loitering for several years.

I sent off my resume and reiterated my strengths, which I darn well knew were not the ones he was looking for. He called me on it, and asked if I possess the qualities required for the position. The truth is that I have none of them. I am actually the antithesis of those qualities. Thinking about them makes me agitated and slightly nauseous. I told him so – with slightly different wording – and let the job go.

I was sad and kind of depressed … left with discontentment over my current job, a frustration with the size of my paychecks, and a sense of restlessness that has often plagued me.  I headed straight to Craigslist to find another job, but sunk lower when I realized that I don’t really fit anywhere. By the end of the night, I was chest-deep in self-pity, totally immobile, and sick of myself.

This next morning, I thought on things I know to be true and prayed for some clarity. As the day wore on, I had a growing realization that I fit pretty well at the job I’m at. The organization helps the poor, which gives my job meaning. My boss is kind and generous. He recognizes my strengths, appreciates my spunk, and tolerates my moodiness. I am growing in areas I would not otherwise choose to grow in. And because my job is not overly demanding, I have emotional resources to spend on other things I enjoy… like pestering my teenage son or starting a blog.

Under all that emotional muck and self-pity, I found a gratitude and contentment. I saw things from a different angle, and it changed everything without changing anything. Being an assistant may not be my grand purpose in life, but I am finding life exactly where I am.