What Am I Fixing?

I grew up in a small Texas town. My accent was as thick as concrete, and I had a whole lingo understood only by those indigenous to The Big Thicket area of The Lone Star State.

When I left home and went to Baylor University, the big city, I had to in some ways learn the English language, and my friends had to learn mine, whatever it was. As a matter of fact, I was affectionately called, ”Reba” in the school of Speech Pathology and Audiology and it was NOT because I could sing! One term I used frequently and was made fun of for was fixing, but this was not fixing in the sense of I am fixing the car or fixing the clock. It was, I am fixing to go to the store. I am fixing to eat dinner. You get it, right?

I have been thinking a lot lately about what I am fixing. What am I fixing up in my life? My home? My appearance? My reputation? My people? I spend so much time “fixing” the things of this world, yet my heart longs for eternity. How much time am I spending preparing myself and my sphere of influence for our final destination?

What I have realized is “fixing” up things can become addictive and insidiously serve as band-aids that are concealing deep wounds.

As long as we are breathing there will always be something to fix. Right now I have a list of at least ten things, I am sure. But all these things are but dust in the scope of eternity so why do I spend so much futile energy there?

When my vision is focused horizontally, and I am often out of focus, I can too quickly get caught up in all the tasks I see that “need” to be completed. I do have responsibilities, and I am not suggesting neglecting them. But eternity. That is where I want to place the weight of my attention.

As we said in that tiny little Southeast Texas town, I am fixing to go. Well, friends, someday soon I am fixing to go to Heaven, and when the roll is called up yonder, I intend to be there, and no amount of fixing down here is going with me. I hope to see you there!

Welcome, Lord

Weary, friend, I know the road you are traveling feels lonely, exhausting and at times unbearable. Sometimes you are so ready for peace, and it feels like God is not answering your plea for help.

This week The Lord has been reminding me that often I am more disillusioned by the failure of my arrangements than the fruition of His answers. He is answering, but probably not within the parameters of the controlled, tidy box where I frame MY plans. His purpose is much higher than we can imagine, and God’s seemingly silent ambivalence does not mean absence, but very often action.

It is within the realm of our trials that the resurrection is awakening.

Remember, not to put your outcome in a box; God does not fit there. Keep looking up. Take the next right step and remain faithful.  As pilgrims, we must not get so busy wishing ourselves out of situations that we forget to welcome God into them.

I love this quote and hope it encourages you:

“The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.”
Elisabeth Elliot, Keep a Quiet Heart

You are loved!♥️

It Is Finished.

During Holy Week I like to reflect on the ways I have been knowingly or unknowingly living out of the darkness of the crucifixion rather than the light of the resurrection.

It helps me to make a list.

What would be some things on your list? Fear? Guilt? Perfectionism? Control?Comparison? Condemnation? Working hard to earn approval? They are on mine.

A question I have been pondering is, am I living out of Jesus’ work, It Is Finished or mine, I am finishing it?

It is so easy for me to unconsciously live from a position of unbelief that says it is Jesus plus D’Anna’s work. But that is not the gospel.  The gospel is only Jesus. When I remember that, I am lighter, freedom and joy are actualities not abstractions, and my center becomes calibrated not chaotic.

I am prone to wander, though, prone to forget.  The Good Shepherd knows this of me, however, and continues loving me, pursuing me and carrying me back to His flock anyway.

Friend, I do not know what ways crucifixion living has you in bondage, but I know mine. The good news is we do not have to stay stuck there.  The tomb was empty.  There was a resurrection, and it was to ransom, heal, redeem, forgive and secure eternal life for us.

Our Savior’s great sacrifice was a one time deal.  Just before yielding His spirit on the cross Jesus said, “it is finished.” (John 19:30)  Done. Completed.  Past tense.

I have learned it is one thing to understand that truth in my head, and a whole other thing to stand under it with my heart. I pray we are all living in the light of that truth? It is part of our great inheritance.

Firsthand Jesus

 

Secondhand Jesus will never give us firsthand faith.~John Stickl

What if Peter relied on another disciple to tell him what Jesus said when he asked him to get out of the boat and walk on water?

What if Joshua obtained his orders from a person other than God concerning Jericho?

Suppose Abraham’s wife or friend told him God said he should take Isaac up the mountain?

None of these men would have ever believed or obeyed because it would have seemed ludicrous coming from anyone else.  Impossible.  Crazy.

We are no different than Peter, Joshua or Abraham.  We need to hear from God directly.

Books, sermons, bible studies, and commentaries are all excellent and worthy resources, but they must not replace our talking and listening to God first hand.  We cannot be in a relationship with someone we never speak to or hear from, at least not a healthy one.  That is the difference in a religion verse a relationship with God.

We have to put in the time, the effort and carve out the space to be still so that we may hear His voice.  Relying on someone else to tell us what God says is like having the most scrumptious dessert, but not being able to taste it.  Instead, we have to depend on a friend to tell us about it.  I don’t know about you, but I want to savor every morsel myself!

Surely God’s voice is a million times more desirable than even the most delicious food we can imagine?  So why do we forgo that pleasure?

Hearing from God is not reserved for only the most spiritual.  Sometimes I want it all with no effort,  but it just does not work that way when it comes to God.  He is a personal Father.  He wants you to hear His voice, but unlike most things in our world today, there is no shortcut or instant fix.

Encountering God requires time, availability,  commitment to His Word, patience, and a quiet, surrendered heart. Recognizing The Father’s voice necessitates we remove our interests so that we may realize His intentions.

Friend, let me encourage you not to rely on someone else’s information and miss your holy invitation.  Jesus did not die for you to get glimpses of God externally, but that you may experience Him internally.

Father, Who Do You Say I Am?

I suppose if I was someone of notoriety and Joy Behar read this she would label me insane. I would be the content of jokes, cutting remarks and sadly, many laughs. Thankfully, I am not famous, not because I am afraid of being made fun of, but because earthly power is not a necessary precursor for an eternal purpose.

I am always a work in progress. Listening. Reading. Learning. Succeeding. Failing. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I am at a point in my life where I am alright with this process as long as I keep moving forward. So much of my walk is remembering obedience precedes understanding, not vice versa. When Jesus would offer followers to come and see, He didn’t mean after you understand. My flesh wants to see and come, but that is not faith, that is futility. I am not called to figure anything out, that is contrary to my nature, however.

When God wants to teach me something new, He always layers the concept. By about the second or third time, He has my attention. Sometimes I get impatient waiting for the lesson to come, but it always does, just not on my timetable.

I am reading an excellent book that has been like a warm, affirming hug to my soul. A few nights ago, the chapter I read was about our identity. The world wants to name me. I want to identify myself, and often harshly. Shame, failure and the exhaustion of the performance treadmill many times define who I am. It is so easy to derive my identity from situational frailties rather than Savior actualities. The point of the chapter which was entitled, Becoming Who We Already Are, was to pay attention to who we believe we are and then ask the Father to show us who we are in His image, not ours, not the worlds.

I went to bed that night praying very expectantly and asking God, “Father, please show me who You say I am. I know all the well-churched answers, but my heart was desperate for a fresh word. Not a one size fits all declaration, but an individualized description.

The next morning I woke up fully expecting to be identified through something I read, heard or so on. Crickets. Waiting. Nothing. But I kept praying and asking like a needy child incessantly asking his mother the same thing over and over again. Are we there yet? Do you have an answer yet?

By yesterday morning, day two, I was feeling defeated but not utterly desperate, and I was still asking. “Father, I know I am your daughter.” Well-loved. Provided for. Secure. I fight to remember that I rest on your record, not mine. Your righteousness, not mine, but who do You say I am? Please show me.”

A short time later, I received a newsletter via email from one of my favorite ministries, Restore ministries, here in Birmingham. The title of the newsletter was, Renamed. To say my heart began beating fast is an understatement and I stopped everything I was doing to read it. I thought just maybe this was it! A letter from the Lord via a ministry. Perfect! The message did not rename or identify me, but this is what it did do. The author’s words encouraged me to keep seeking, praying and asking The Lord to show me my identity in Him. While it did not answer my question, it reinforced my resolve to continue asking and listening, so my questioning continued. I am so thankful God is a patient Father.

This leads me to last night. I was tired, emotionally and physically. The day had been challenging in different ways. Expensive repairs. Friends hurting. My own junk. I guess I do not wear my feelings very stealthy as one family member remarked, “you look emotionally exhausted.” I could not argue with that assessment.

I retired myself early, and as I was pulling my soft blanket up around me, I asked again, “Father who do you say I am.” Before I could take a breath, move or think, this is what I immediately heard in my head. Strong Warrior. Let me be clear; this was NOT an audible voice, it was a gentle whisper deep within.

I wish I could say I went to bed hearing the Hallelujah chorus, but I was a little skeptical. I sure did not feel that name coming. Also, because I was tired I fell right asleep and did not have much time to process, but I did thank God for the fresh, tailored name.

In His book, Follow The Cloud. John Stickl says whoever owns you gets to define you. This morning I have a renewed understanding of that truth. I feel strong. Much stronger than yesterday when I was letting an opportunistic enemy, my destructive thoughts and doubts define me. Once we claim an identity, it is all-encompassing. Our thoughts, emotions, behaviors, and so much more are controlled by who we believe we are.

I would love to pass this exhortation along to you today, friend? Who or what are you allowing to define you? Who or what are they saying you are? May I make a suggestion? Ask The Father to show you who He says you are and wait expectantly for Him to answer. It may not be an expedient answer. Don’t lose your anticipation or faith. Be alert. It will come, but likely when you are not expecting it.

You are loved.

Doing Our Part

The antidote to the cries of an aching world is found within me because it is only my contributions that I control.

It is incredibly easy to live a life void of self-examination, paying little attention to my behaviors and motives, all while hyper-focusing on what I deem right or wrong in those around me.

Judgement.

It is insidious.

My soul is much better served working on me rather than worrying about them.

Blame temporarily feels good. It is a false place to surrender our pain, but never solve it.

The most significant piece of doing our part is found looking inside not outside of ourselves.

Tears, Fears and Truth

In the late afternoon on the day Carter was born, a nurse came into my room and told me she needed to take him for an echocardiogram. The doctor that examined him earlier detected a heart murmur and they needed to investigate further.

I was scared and immediately broke down in tears. I didn’t want them to take my baby anywhere, especially somewhere that might bring bad news.

It had been a difficult pregnancy. It was an arduous delivery. There were a few moments of silence when he entered the world and my heart stopped, only to stutter again a few hours later.

My nurse was on the latter end of her career. Advanced in age, not much appeared to faze her. “Don’t cry,” she quipped. “Save your tears. You will need them later.” At the time, I thought how insensitive she was. I was young and naive.

When I was pregnant with Macey, we thought we would lose her several times. Then there was a point early on that I ended up in the ICU with a collapsed lung and a chest tube. I wondered if we would both be lost?

My pregnancies were so complicated that I remember crying out to God so often to please let my children be born so I would know they were safe. As I said before, I was so naive. I never knew I would shed so many tears. I have good kids. It isn’t that.

It is that the “good” things have become the hard things.

Kindergarten graduation. The transition from elementary school to junior high school, then to high school. Letting them go off in a car. Driving. Camps. One and two week-long camps with no communication. Empty nest staring me in the face. And for Heaven’s sake, I never knew there would be tears and trepidation just over sending them to school.

I was so naive back then, but in more ways than one.

The most important difference now is that I know I am not their Savior.

I know now that God is sovereign and understanding that and standing under it look very different.

I know now that nothing takes God by surprise.

I know that He has already assigned all of our days, ALL OF THEM, mine and my children.

I know now that I have very little control and forgetting that is costly to me and those I love.

I know now that battles are better fought in prayer than panic.

I know now that as long as I am breathing, as long as anyone is breathing, evil will exist and I will not understand it, but I am not called to figure it out rather trust without doubt. Easier said than done, but worth fighting for.

I know now that this world is not my home, not my family’s home, and because of our eternal destination hope and gratitude trump fear.

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” ~John 16:33

I am saying a few extra prayers for all you mamas tonight. You are loved.

The Rock Of Empathy and Understanding

Have you been misunderstood, wronged, hurt, betrayed or falsely accused?  Everyone has at some point.

You know what is the most difficult thing for me to do, but the right and respectable thing, taking it to prayer rather than people? Bringing my hurt to The Father rather than Facebook, and to the Scriptures rather than my stories.

We all desire to be affirmed and understood, but when that desire becomes more about needing the validation of people than God,  I know I have a problem.

This is a great and convicting quote from Julie Sparkman’s book, Unhitching From The Crazy Train, co-written by Jennifer Phillips.  “When you are wronged, instead of pleading, “God, make this right!” you begin to pray, “Jesus,  You know what it feels like to be mocked, misunderstood, and falsely accused. I do long for You to make this right, but in the meantime, would You show me how to honor You as I bear up under injustice?  These Christlike prayers and attitudes come from the Scripture that is stored in your heart.”

I love this!

We have a Savior who suffered to know and identify with us in our affliction.  I am the first to forget to submit mine to Him, the Rock of empathy and understanding.  He is there for me and for you, friend.  Let’s not forget Him.

You are loved.

Unhitching From The Crazy Train is available at Lifeway and on Amazon 2/5/18. Also, you can order from newhopepublishers.com. 

www.restore-ministries.org

Fishers of Men Not Means

Through earnest prayer, I have seen God change so many circumstances in my life and the lives of people I love. More importantly, I have seen him transform me so that I am not bound to begging for a different outcome but rather a divine income.

For many years I thought the purpose of prayer was to get something from God. Now I understand that the hope of prayer is to get God. Just God, more of Him and less of me. His desires become mine, not vice versa when I sincerely seek Him.

Praying does not require fancy language. God does not give credit for style. He is looking for surrender.

Prayer changes everything. The thing is, change just does not always mirror our desires.

I have heard a couple of renditions of this misconception the last week, “I don’t understand, He didn’t answer my prayers.” He did, friend. He just answered them His way, and we are not called to comprehend but to commit.

If you are a parent and you make decisions that are best for your children, you know sometimes they are hard, but they are also right. Our kids most often do not understand. Hard and holy go hand in hand, though, and it has been that way since the beginning.

God understands our difficulty because He, too, is a Father. He is a person to know not a commodity to control.

Prayer sometimes changes earthly directions, but most importantly it alters eternal destinations, and that is our primary commission.

We are fishers of men not means.

If I can pray for you today, please let me know. It is my privilege to petition the Prince of Peace on behalf of my friends.