Category Archives: God’s voice

Do you want to get well?

“When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’” –John 5:6

Do you want to get well, Elaine? So whispered the Holy Spirit to my heart this past week.

Of course, Lord, I want to be well. I am well . . . right? Even before I uttered my response, I knew the answer. Otherwise God wouldn’t have asked the question. God doesn’t waste words with his children. God speaks them as they are needed.

Being “well.” What does that look like for you? Feel like? Live like? The culture we live in dictates a wide variety of responses to this question. Soundness of mind, financial security, health of body, a stable family, and a charitable life, are just a few of the barometers used by society to measure personal wellness. But what do you use? How do you know if you are well?

I’m asking myself the same question, and I’m doing so in the context of Christ’s sacred conversation with the invalid at the pool of Bethesda some 2000 years ago (see John 5:1-15). I’m backing into story and into an understanding of wellness by examining its contrast—what wellness isn’t.

Wellness isn’t:

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

• Lying on a mat for thirty-eight years waiting for the waters to be stirred.

Yes, you read that correctly; three times over. I tried to come up with more bullet points to further define the contrast. Given more time and more deliberation, I’m sure I could come up with a fuller definition, at least as it pertains to understanding what wellness is not. But I have an inclination that there is one or two or ten of you out there, like me, that could hear these words and have them be enough to shake you up, wake you up, and grow you up. There is nothing about lying on a mat for thirty-eight years that is going to bring you and me any closer to gaining the healing we long for, the restoration and wholeness our Father longs to bring to us.

What loves us closer to wellness is our willingness to stop making excuses and to start walking with Jesus. Just start walking with Jesus. Healing and wholeness take time. I am not devaluing or disrespecting the timetable attached to the process of getting well. I’m forty-six, and I still have work to do. But unlike the invalid of Jesus’ day, I know who Jesus is, what Jesus can do, and how I can be well. I don’t have the benefit of ignorance to coddle my excuses. I have truth on my side—an entire Bible’s worth of hope at my fingertips, holy words from the holy God that can be wholly trusted with the wellness road.

Do you want to get well? Have your “thirty-eight years” been too many years? Today is the right day to begin your healing walk with Jesus. Roll up your excuses, pick up your mat, and pick up the Word.

The waters have been stirred. There is no time to waste. Movement wins. With Jesus, movement always wins.

Peace for the journey,

Do you want to be well? What is one tangible way you can move forward with your wellness today?

On Nagging God…

“At that time I pleaded with the Lord: ‘O Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show to your servant your greatness and your strong hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do the deeds and mighty works you do? Let me go over and see the good land beyond the Jordan—that fine hill country and Lebanon.’ But because of you [referring to the Israelites] the LORD was angry with me and would not listen to me.
 
‘That is enough,’ the LORD said. ‘Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.’” (Deut. 3:23-26)

 

My son has perfected his nagging. How do I know this? Because, more often than not, I’m officially nagged. Weary worn from his tactics of repeated negotiations and hugely bothered by the fact that he doesn’t know when to quit… when my “no” is a “no” and why it isn’t wise to cross over that line. For the record, I’m not much of a “no” momma, so when a “no” rolls off my tongue, I think, perhaps, it confuses my son and fuels his will for the debate.

Just a little more persistence, just a little more obnoxious determination, and I’ll wear her down.

Sometimes it works, especially when he was younger. But now that he’s approaching puberty (and I’m approaching forty-six), he’s got less wiggle room for negotiation tactics, and I have less patience for entreating them. Things might be easier now if I’d have said more “no’s” to the dinosaurs at the Dollar Tree when he was three years old, but there’s a huge divide between dinosaurs that cost a dollar and purchases that exceed that amount by fifty times. Fifty dollar purchases must be weighed carefully in any household, and for a boy who’s prone to whims over reason, even more so.

Nagging notions + wasteful spending = selfish, temporary pleasure.

I know. I’m not so unlike my son, especially when it comes to nagging God about something rather than letting his “no” come home to roost in my heart as acceptance. Fortunately, I have a bit of age and life experience that allow me to sometimes see past temporal gain. I know something of nagging and wasteful spending and winding up with far less than what I’d hoped for. Accordingly, when I now receive a “no” from God, I’m more willing to accept it without need for further explanation. God sees better than me, and his forecast for my future is more expansive and far lovelier than what currently can be seen from my dining room window.

Moses was a nagger, not so unlike my son and me. He, too, wanted something he couldn’t have—immediate access to the Promised Land. Unlike me, he had open access to a conversational God and didn’t have to wonder about God’s response to his desire.

“That is enough,” the LORD said. “Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.”

God shut Moses down, because God saw better than Moses—a future more expansive and far lovelier than the current reality claiming Moses’ feet. God saw past the earthly Promised Land. God saw the Promised Land of eternal consequence. God saw heaven. God saw home. And God knew that saying “no” to Moses’ nagging was a gain for everyone in the end. Moses would no longer have to deal with an obstinate people; instead, Moses could go directly through the gates of forever and live in peace with his God, his Friend.

Nagging notions + God’s understanding = limitless, eternal pleasure.

Sometimes, we just have to wait for it, friends.

How much energy are you wastefully spending in nagging negotiations with God today? When have you heard his “no” only to be confronted by your willful “yes”? If, by all accounts, you’ve been given a “no” by God, then will you trust that it is for your good and for your gain?

Today, as I’m sitting at my dining room window and contemplating all things Jesus, I am tenderly and willingly confronted by God’s rebuke to Moses. I receive it as my own and fall to my knees in conviction for the nagging agitation that I’ve contributed to his ruminations in recent days.

That is enough, Elaine. Do not speak to me anymore about this matter.

God sees better than me, and his forecast for my future is more expansive and far lovelier than what currently can be seen from my window.

Nagging notions + God’s understanding = limitless, eternal pleasure.

Knowing this… I know enough. Canaan is the eternal “yes” that allows me to see beyond God’s “no.” Today, I rest there while living here, and all is well with my soul.

Blessed, sweet peace for the journey.

PS: From a random drawing, the winner of Lisa’s book and a set of Cindy’s cards is Denise! In addition, I chose Leah to also receive a set of cards from Cindy. Ladies, please check out Cindy’s etsy shop and let me know which design you’d like. Once I receive them from Cindy, I’ll send them to you.

the quiet pause of Christmas…

My voice has been silenced in the last twenty-four hours. Literally. Sickness has claimed my vocal cords. This has never happened to me before, not completely in the way it has happened for me this time around.

My whispered shouts for the attention of others are met only by their silence. Not because they don’t care about me, but rather because they can’t hear me. Their listening isn’t prone to my whispering, so mostly… I’m ignored. Probably a relief to most of those in my household, but to a woman who’s used to being heard… a great frustration indeed.

And I’m thinking…

About my voice. About my words. About needing to be heard. About what I will say when I am, again, able to say.

And I’m thinking…

About quietness. About the value of forced silence. About going inward with my thoughts instead of outwardly displaying every single one of them.

And I’m thinking…

About God. About his voice. About his needing to be heard. About his willingness to keep company with silence… with his thoughts, instead of outwardly displaying every single one of them.

And I’m thinking…

About how very connected I feel to Him in all of this. About how my inability to speak amplifies the volume of God’s witness.

How many times has the Father whispered my name in the midst of my chaos, only to be ignored because of the noise surrounding my life? My hearing isn’t prone to his whispering. But in silence—in this period of fewer, personal words—I more clearly hear the phrases from heaven.

Beautiful, peace-filled, stilled expressions of understanding from God’s heart.

My ninth grade English teacher once wrote in my yearbook, “Elaine, if silence is golden you can forget it.” Apparently, I was destined for poverty. Thirty years ago, I hadn’t a clue what she’d meant, and I couldn’t have cared less.

Today, I have a clue. Today I care more, exceedingly more. Today, silence really is golden, because silence has given me access to the whispers of home. And whenever that happens, friends, I’m the richest person alive.

I’m so glad I know Jesus. I’m so glad he knows me. And I’m exceedingly glad for those moments when I am able to clearly hear his voice. What tender grace is mine as a daughter of the King! I pray that you know him, hear him, worship and celebrate him in the quiet, closing moments of 2011. I believe that God has something vital and important to whisper to each one of us. I’ll be anxious to hear from you in coming days. As always…

Peace for the journey,

movement wins…

Movement wins.

So whispered the Holy Spirit to my heart while I was out walking a couple of days ago. His strong encouragement came to me as I struggled to complete my customary three miles of moderate walking. In the last nine months, I suppose I’ve logged in nearly 700 miles. For the record, I’ve felt every one of them. There’s been some damage to my nerve endings as a result of the chemotherapy. In addition, my current medication, Arimidex, brings with it the side effect of joint pain … especially in the legs.

And so, there is this great contradiction that exists within my flesh—an inconsistency between what is reasonable and what is risky. Reasonable because, with a choice to forego exercise, I have a better chance of keeping personal pain at a minimum. Risky because, with a choice to work through the pain, it’s likely that I’ll “pay for it” the rest of the night—Epsom salts, hot baths, muscle cramps, and pain meds serving to salve my achiness. Thus, this discrepancy between reasonable and risky. Thus, two words from the Father in the midst of my deliberations.

Movement wins. Despite the pain involved, movement wins.

Movement moves me forward from where I was previously. Movement represents progression. Movement advances me beyond current stagnation and launches me down the path of heart-health. I know this to be true as I’ve witnessed my physical strengthening over these past months. Still and yet, what is true isn’t always an easy decision, especially when the decision is a guaranteed choice for additional pain. One really has to want to stay healthy when choosing risky over reasonable. Choosing the risky route can be a costly decision, but in the end, movement wins. So says God.

Could it be the same for our spiritual condition even as it is for our physical one? Is movement the key to securing the kingdom? Is risky over reasonable the only reasonable choice for our Jesus-hearts? Is a choice for more pain, more struggle, and more contradiction the way through to a break-through? To freedom?

Perhaps.

From the very beginning, we’ve been a people of movement. First from God’s Garden. Every step since those initial ones, mostly ones taken in anticipation of finding our way back there. Without our forward progression, we stay put … stay anchored to known realities, unwilling to venture beyond safe borders, fixed parameters, and reasonable guidelines. Those who choose to linger there are often those who get left behind, remaining as is. Unchanged. Unmoved. Underdone according to God’s plan for victory. Instead of allowing their struggles to refine them—shape them and move them—they allow their stagnation to define them—keep them and limit them. When that happens, their hearts aren’t winning. Their hearts are subsisting.

I suppose it’s a good enough existence to live with … die with … move on home to Jesus with, but these days I’m not much concerned about good enough. Subsistence living has lost its flavor. I want to give my heart a good work-out, to push it to beyond its current limits, even though there is certain pain attached to those limitations. I want to walk another 700 miles with my heart exposed to the outdoor elements so that it can be moved and manipulated, stretched and strengthened by Jesus for his kingdom purposes.

Is this a reasonable choice? Not really. When has God ever placed reasonable demands at the feet of his children? Moving ahead with Jesus will be, perhaps, the most unreasonable movement of our lives.

Is it a risky choice? Most definitely. Not because God is not definite, but rather because the world says he is definitely not. And who of us isn’t easily shaped by the world? When we allow the world to dictate our choices, we forfeit movement. We risk stagnation. We live as lesser people.

Movement wins, friends. One step from where you are today—whether one inch outside of the box of your security or one foot beyond the perimeter of the garden you’re so carefully guarding—any small step of faith will be enough to move you forward. Reasonable? No. Risky? Yes. Painful? Probably. But in the end, a guaranteed win with the Father.

I need to move today. Maybe you do as well. Something tells me that the risk will be worth the reward. Someone reminds me as well.

Movement wins.

May God grant you and sustain you with his Peace for the journey as you move forward in his direction.
~elaine

What lies beneath…

I felt the earth move beneath my feet last Tuesday. Literally. Despite the fact that I was 250 miles removed from the epicenter of last week’s earthquake in Mineral, VA, I still felt its tremor. Its duration indicated to me that it was something more than just my imagination. My first thought was to attribute the shaking to Ft. Bragg. Their routine operations are sometimes accompanied by large booms that usually rattle the walls of my home. My second thought was one very loosely tied to the “rapture,” but after a minute’s worth of shaking and no trumpet sound, I moved forward with my third thought—call Billy.

“Billy, did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“That shaking. Honey, I think we’ve had an earthquake.”

“Do you want me to come home?”

“No. I’ve survived worse. Forget I called.”

Figures. Billy and I are rarely on the same page when it comes to noticing things. Accordingly, I called my son who attends the university just miles from our home. I received a similar response from him, although he made no offers to come home and check on me. Then I called my mom. Same story. Thinking, perhaps, that I did imagine it, I went to the one place where all good researchers go when looking for reliable information.

I logged onto Facebook.

Pu-leezeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Well, it was a start; a fairly good one this time around. At least my friend Shirley directed me to turn on the news where, in fact, I did learn that an earthquake with a 5.8 magnitude had occurred. Not in Fayetteville, but rather 250 miles to the north in Virginia.

Wow. Some earthquake, some shaking, some kind of deep quaking beneath the surface of the earth that it would reach this far. What kind of tremor does that? I know. Those of you on the West Coast are laughing at us; go ahead. Call me when a hurricane threatens your seaboard. I’ve got it all over you on that one. I suppose we’ve all got some shaking, some wind, some storm threatening its witness in our lives, do we not? Better not to compare; better to live prepared!

Which brings me back around to a thought about the earthquake of last week. A good thought. I have my Ohio friend, Juanita, to thank for it. She didn’t know she was supplying it to me; her experience (some 450 miles northwest of the epicenter) spurred me along in my thinking. After talking with my husband, son, and mother and receiving no back-up support regarding the tremor I’d just experienced, I called Juanita to report the news.

“Guess what, friend? I’ve just survived my first earthquake!”

“Really? Me, too!”

“You, too?”

“Yes, I felt it here as well.”

“Where were you when it happened?”

“I was sitting out on my back porch, being still and enjoying the summer afternoon, when I felt the cement slab beneath my feet begin to shake.”

Instantly, I knew. I got it. I understood the reason why she and I felt the tremor and others did not.

We were both being still in the moments preceding its arrival. She on her porch; me on my couch. Think about that for a moment, and let it sink deeply into your heart. You could probably preach the sermon from this point forward, but in case you’re getting a slow start to your thought processes this week, I’ll offer you mine.

What lies beneath—the quaking, trembling, soul-stirring shakings of our hearts—often go unnoticed when we are consumed by the quaking, trembling, earth-stirring shakings of our world. When the noise in our external becomes too loud, too busy, too full of the clanging, clamoring cymbals of temporal value, we are prone to missing the whispers of the eternal. Whispers that, when heard, have the capacity to shake us, wake us, and move us to a place of unparalleled intimacy with God. If we never take the time to be still before the Lord, we run the risk of excluding his voice from our everyday doings.

Rarely will God interrupt our busyness with his insistence. Not that he isn’t speaking, isn’t always presenting himself to us throughout our days so that he might better be known by his children. But rather, God sometimes best reveals himself to our hearts in quiet places of contemplation—moments when we slow down, sit down, and allow our minds room enough and time enough to pause and consider life beyond the externals … the “what and who” that lie beneath our surface.

If we could get this, Christian, if we could see the value of our “beneath,” then Facebook wouldn’t be able to contain the amount of first-hand reports of the soul-quakes happening across our nation. Facebook (as my boys like to say) would blow-up with the witness of the Lord Jesus Christ. So would the news channels. So would the phone lines. If all of us would be willing to take the time to tend to our quietness instead of lending all our time to the noisiness in our lives, then the soul-shaping, heart-stirring work of the Lord would go forth in manifold measure.

God’s shaking, God’s quaking, and God’s tremors not only would be felt in Mineral, VA, in Navarre, OH, and in Fayetteville, NC, but also in and around the place that you call home. The magnitude would far exceed a 5.8 on the Richter scale, because God’s magnitude quakes eternally. There’s no measuring his impact. There are no borders to contain his witness. He’s just that big and beyond and so much more than we’re willing to cede to him on any given day.

And this, my friends, is a great tragedy. To live with less of Jesus is to never really live at all. To stay stuck at Ground Zero without ever considering the “what and who” of our beneath, is to live temporarily, without focus and without an anchor. What is seen above is limited to fixed parameters. What is seen below? Well, his depth is limitless, tethered to the eternal—the Epicenter of all humanity. Tap into that kind of understanding and the earth breaks open with the truth of the kingdom!

Would you take some time to get quiet before the Lord this week so that you might feel the tremors of home? It’s time to give God room enough and time enough in your day to shake you so that you might awaken to the reality of your “beneath,” and so that when friends call you and ask, “Did you feel that?” you can respond with your “Yes, I felt it as well.”

What truth and understanding are ours as children of the Most High God! Be still, and know that he is God. As always,

Peace for the journey,
~elaine

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