Category Archives: God’s Word

You’ll do.

Our Sunday School roster of teachers was down to slim pickings today. The regularly scheduled facilitator and her substitute were otherwise detained, and I offered to step in at the last minute. Attendance numbers were slim as well, but what we lack in quantity we make up for in quality. These people I do life with are some of the finest folks I know.

After an initial greeting and my pre-emptive apology for serving as a fill-in, a generous soul in our midst offered me, perhaps, one of the most sincere and beautiful commendations I have ever received:

“You’ll do.”

Generous laughter followed his proclamation, along with an inward tugging in my spirit. He attached no harm to his words; instead, they rolled off his lips as a compliment of the highest order. And therein I felt safe. Wanted. Warmed by his genuine assessment of me.

“You’ll do.”

Oh, to be welcomed to the table of holy conversation with a hearty handshake of acceptance! It’s a gift to me … to be graciously received and, further still, to no longer need any weightier accolades attached to my name. That’s not always been the case. There was a season when I clamored for a bigger stage, a larger audience, and a calendar filled with invitations to validate my spiritual prowess.

That season didn’t last long. And while I knew that I was naturally and (at times) supernaturally gifted for the stage, it wasn’t to be. Instead, God simplified the matter for me, took my hand, bowed my heart, and led me down a quieter path of holy privilege.

There’s nothing “lesser” about a quieter path, at least in God’s eyes. It just means that kingdom work doesn’t always need a stage to get results. Sometimes the good seed falls to a few good souls who gather on a Sunday morning to say “yes” all over again to the holy deliberation of God’s Word. To be awed by the wonderment, the workings and worthy practice of chewing on a few verses and believing that, with the chew, something profound and beautiful happens.

Jesus happens. Every single time. In the midst and in the muddle of a week and of a world that is often void of his voice. When the Bible is open, Jesus takes the stage regardless the size of the audience. He makes no apologies for his presence. He simply and profoundly stands there on the pages of holy writ with all truth embodied within his frame. Like a brilliant shard of light dispelling the darkness, Jesus illuminates and fills the empty pages of our souls. And when that happens, when the hunger of our hearts is satiated by the love in his heart, then the kingdom moves forward. The kingdom expands.

Eternal deliberations with the eternal God yield eternal results.

I’ll get up every day for that kind of spiritual progress, friends. A step toward home is a step in the right direction. And to step it alongside a few hungry saints, is, indeed, the path of holy privilege.

Maybe today you need to be reminded of such things like quieter paths and open Bibles and friends who trust you to lead the holy deliberations therein. These are not lesser stages of significance and your participation isn’t a lesser point of privilege. Rather, these are great works of grace with a great and awesome Jesus.

You’ll do, friend. Bring what you have to the table in obedience.

He’ll do … the rest. Even better. Even more.

On earth, even as it is in heaven. As always…

Peace for the journey,

on course-correcting indulgence

Christmas has cost me a few pounds. A recent doctor’s visit and my turn on the scale indicated this reality. Accordingly, upon my return home, I purged the remnants of my kitchen–those remaining crumbs of a recent, earlier delight. I had had enough of indulgence. My body knew it; perhaps even greater, my mind … my spirit was in agreement. And when those two entities collide, when the flesh and the spirit are in agreement, then healthier choices take place. The fullness that comes to our stomachs when walking in tandem with the spirit is a course-correct that will eventually balance out the cost of earlier, unchecked indulgences.

And while the human spirit is a mighty force for change, God’s Spirit living in us through the powerful work of the cross, is mightier … holier … the same kind of strength exhibited in Christ’s resurrection from the grave (see Romans 8:11-12, Ephesians 1:19-20). As Christians, God means for us to daily walk in his resurrection strength, to breathe and to take in the fullness that he offers to us, so that we might know the difference between an earthly, hungering stomach and an eternal hungering spirit. So that we might run to the right cupboard for the filling.

Long before my recent purge, another purge of sorts took place on Judean hillside. The crowd numbering in the thousands had gathered to hear from this teacher, this miracle worker named Jesus. On that day, Jesus addressed both of their needs–their hungering stomachs and, even greater, their hungering spirits. It was the latter filling that led them to follow him to the other side of the lake for more. It was then that Jesus released a truth that many of them could not fully absorb:

I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world (John 6:48-51, NIV).

Jesus then furthers the discussion with talk of “drinking his blood” — a partaking in what some would deem too strange of a feast. Eating flesh? Drinking blood? What on earth was he talking about?

Jesus wasn’t talking about earthly things. Jesus was teaching about eternal realities, about that place, that moment when the body and the spirit collide and come in agreement for a healthier road forward. This is the course-correct that balances out unchecked indulgences. This is the course-correct that will fix the human condition–those irrational hungers that bloat, that burden, and that distend the soul to damaging limits.

The world we’re walking in, is a damaged, sin-sickened society that makes it all too easy for us to distend our souls. The world’s cupboard is full of choices to satiate our hunger. They’re hard to miss; they crowd our kitchens and their aromas fill our nostrils until we are convinced that we must eat, we must partake, we must cram final crumbs into that remaining void without even considering the cost to our souls. The momentary overshadows the eternal and, before long, the scale lives to tell the tale.

When that happens, when the mocking of indulgence comes back around to taunt us … to haunt us … it is time for us to release that burden to the cross; it is the only scale that will balance the bloating of our souls. Christ leveled the playing field when he submitted his flesh to a bloody surrender. In doing so, he has made a way for us to overcome our earthly hungering. The cross and our bloody surrender therein, eliminates the extra pounds.

The cross is the course-correct for the fledgling and fragile and failing human condition. It is a strange feast indeed; yet it is a beautiful and bountiful one in which we must partake if we want his life to be made evident in ours.

So today I ask you the question that I am asking myself. What has your recent indulgence cost you? What scale are you using to calculate that cost? Are you tired of the bloating, the bulge that has you stretched to your limits? Has your stomach and your spirit come to an agreement on the matter? If so, then you are ready for a course-correct. Your seat at Christ’s table–his altar of grace and mercy–has been reserved.

Dine there. Feed there. Cram in the cross. The hunger that cannot be filled by earthly cupboards can be filled to overflow from the rich storehouses of heaven. This is the sacred balancing of our souls.

I’ll meet you at the table, and as always…

Peace for the journey,

on the edge of something

It’s 4:00 AM; I can’t sleep. A strained shoulder and a pack of prednisone are to blame. I’ve started and finished a 350-page historical novel that’s been sitting bedside for weeks. I’ve read the book of James. I’ve prayed over my family. I’ve shed a few tears. And now, out of a restless need, I dare to open this blank page wanting to say something, but not completely sure I know what it is.

I’m on the edge of something.

There have been a lot of those edges lately, a lot of tossing and turning, reflecting and remembering, wondering and wishing my way through my nights.

I’m standing in between … teetering precariously on the edge of yesterday, just before the dawn breaks on today, and God pierces my edge with a truth I’m often prone to forget:

I still have a plan for your life, Elaine.

I am undone by the hushed voice that penetrates the darkness, so certain in my spirit that I have heard from his. This is the edge we share, God and me … a moment of teetering between things unseen and things perceived. And it is a very good place to stand, here in this hour …

On the edge of something, even if I cannot see it.

God and I have been on these edges before, all of my life in fact. He’s been with me from the beginning. And while I cannot remember a day when I was unaware of his presence, it wasn’t until I was in my mid-30s that I began to really open up my heart and my mind to understand the deeper things of God.

With two young toddlers in tow and a barely used high-school graduation Bible tucked under my arm, I dragged my soul to my first ever, in-depth Bible study in Little Washington, NC. It was Beth Moore’s To Live is Christ, a study on the witness and ministry of the Apostle Paul. Two weeks into the study, I remember lying on my bed in the parsonage on Respess St., Bible and study book wide-open, tears streaming down my face, with the most honest confession I could utter …

I am sorry, God. I have wasted so much time.

That was an edge for us, an exhilarating jump onto the next page of my life with Christ. Fifteen years later, I’ve yet to recover. I have loved standing next to Jesus on that edge of discovery. Every single minute we’ve shared on the pages of his Word has fed me, shaped me, and enlivened me for the road ahead.

Along the way I’ve been so privileged to share that road with countless others through my speaking, leading Bible studies and Sunday Schools, writing books, teaching Bible for four years in a 4th grade classroom, and shaping my own children with the truths I have learned.

It’s been my great joy, and it’s been for God’s good. I know that deep down. Truly.

But just now, right now, before the birds begin their morning chorus, I need to know that there is more. My body is weak and my mind is cluttered. I’m having trouble standing on this particular edge because I so long to see that which remains hidden. And that kind of blind faith sometimes feels just out of reach for me. The edge of something isn’t always as certain as I would like it to be.

How about you?

Where are you standing right now? What edge hosts your in-between? Has the new day brought with it a new hope, a fresh dispensation of daily grace and forward steps? Is your agenda filled with God’s? Has he made it clear to your heart what is dear to his? Is your edge a place of release or has it become, instead, a place of refuge? Is the uncertainty you have about tomorrow shattering your confidence therein?

If so, then might I lend you an old truth on a new day almost arrived?

God still has a plan for your life.

Despite the darkness. Despite what’s happened. Despite your flesh. God still thinks thoughts about you and would like nothing more than to stand on the edge with you as you prepare your heart for your next steps.

Fresh grace. Forward steps. The edge of something … more.

A very good place to stand here in this hour.

Welcome to today! 

As always, I pray for you God’s companioning peace for the journey,

the song of the brook …

My students and I have just finished reading Song of the Brook by Matlida Nordtvedt. As literary prose goes, it doesn’t measure up to the classics, but it does serve a purpose in our classroom. It’s one book in a continuing series of books presented annually to students who use the Abeka curriculum; they seem to enjoy keeping up with the Johnson family from year to year.

The main character of the story is Hilda, a young girl from Bellingham, Washington, who is learning to live with change: a move to a new community, the disappointment with that community, discord amongst extended family members, bullying on the playground, overcoming insecurities, and the like. Despite the chaos in Hilda’s new life, she finds solace in an unexpected place – the babbling brook running beside her dilapidated house. At night, she sits next to the open, bedroom window and listens as the brook “sings” her a song. Repeatedly throughout the story, the brook impresses upon Hilda’s heart various phrases to soothe (and sometimes to meddle with) the aches within her heart. Her brookside meditations are Hilda’s way of spending time with God and hearing his voice therein.

Even though Hilda’s story is set in time nearly 100 years ago, the problems she faces back then are not unlike the problems we face today. Who of us haven’t known the ache of relocation, the tears of disappointment, the fracture of beloved relationships, the taunts of a bully, and the crippling of insecurity? Today’s troubles aren’t much different from yesterday’s harms; the scenery simply has changed.

Unlike Hilda, I don’t have the beauty of a singing brook running by and next to the parsonage in Laurinburg, NC. I don’t raise my windows in the evening for fear of unwanted critters (or humans) disrupting my night’s slumber. The sounds of my city at night are no match for the idyllic evening lullabies of the countryside, those wide-open spaces that seem to more easily host the voice of the Creator.

Still and yet, I hear the Father’s voice. His words speak to me as I take the time to listen in, to open up the window of my soul and to meditate upon the scriptures he has written to me in his holy Word. Sometimes God’s melody soothes the aches within; sometimes his refrain meddles with my will. At all times, his song is truthful. God cannot lie; neither will he sing a song over me that will lead me down a wayward path. Instead, his song … his words are for me, for my good and, most importantly, for his kingdom good.

Lately, his holy refrain has been crystal clear:

As I have done for you, Elaine, so you must do for others. Wash their feet.

Over and over again, for the past several weeks, these words have cycled repeatedly throughout my mind, like the lyrics of a song you just can’t shake.

As I have done for you, Elaine, so you must do for others. Wash their feet.

In living out this obedience from John 13, there are always ample challenges. Stinky feet aren’t my preference. It’s easier to touch cleanliness than dirtiness. It’s less problematic to embrace the feet of a friend than it is to embrace the feet of a betrayer. Even so, the Father sings…

As I have done for you, Elaine, so you must do for others. Wash their feet.

I don’t know what this will look like for me in the days to come, how this yielding will play itself out. But of this I am certain … it will play itself out. Whether at school, at church, at home, and maybe even at Wal-Mart, stinky feet are everywhere – walking in front of me, behind me, next to me, over me, and, yes, sometimes within me. We all get our feet dirty from time to time. The Father’s basin and towel are equal to the cleansing task, yet another undeserved grace from his heart to ours that allows us to get clean and then to offer that same cleansing to others.

As I have done for you, Elaine, so you must do for others. Wash their feet.

The window of my soul is open. The song of the brook is singing. Even so, Father, I am listening.

As you have done for me, Lord, help me to do so for others. Amen.

 

Shopping for Seed

Words.

Spoken. Written. Thought.

Some beautiful. Some bitter. And others, somewhere in between. All words?

Powerful. Why?

Because they are attached to the heart.

“ … For out of the overflow of his heart, his mouth speaks.” –Luke 6:45

The words that grow in our hearts, sooner or later, flow out of our mouths. Along those lines, it might be wise, then, to be more intentional (and more choosy) about the seeds we’re sowing into the sacred soil of our souls.  

So, ask yourself a question, even as I am asking the same of myself in this season:

From what feed store have you recently made a purchase of word-seed?

Some of my favorite filling stations as of late include: social media, must-see television series, breaking news reports, pages of the latest, Christian-how-to-do-life-with-Jesus books, work-related projects and curriculum, church activity, conversations with family and friends, interactions with students, parents, and staff, and God’s Word.

What are your favorites?

In measured proportion, all of these popular haunts have the potential to yield a harvest of good, gracious, and God-honoring words that can yield a kingdom harvest in due season. But when the scales get off balance because the seeds are no longer weighed for effectiveness and, instead, we fill up on what’s popular rather than on what’s productive, the overflow of our hearts becomes as sludge – a thick, muddy mess of careless words that dirties the landscape of our souls and stymies the ripening of God’s fruit. Those words not only muddy-up our hearts, but often they spill over to muddy-up the hearts of others.

Whatever seeds are growing on the inside of us will eventually move outside to mess with us. For good or for ill, the word-seeds that we are allowing into the garden of our hearts will yield a powerful crop of words to be absorbed by those around us. Shouldn’t we, then, be more vigilant? Shouldn’t we more carefully measure out these word-seeds before we purchase them … embed them? Before we take another dive into the pool of words available to us, could we push the pause button for a moment or two or ten to consider the fruit of our previous purchases?

What seeds have yielded fruitfulness? What seeds have reaped destruction?

Words are, indeed, powerful. They come to us freely from all directions at any given moment in our days. Wise are those who choose to carefully and prayerfully steward those moments alongside the great heart of God. When that happens, all hell does break loose, because we have thwarted the enemy’s plan for the destruction of our kingdom effectiveness by growing, in its place, a garden of beautiful words that yields eternal results.

That’s where I want to live, friends, alongside the great heart of God and his garden of good words.

Choose carefully the seeds that you will sow into the soil of your hearts this year. Along the way and as you plant, live safely, live confidently, and live expectantly next to the heart of Jesus. He will shepherd your steps and he will superintend your garden. I look forward to your many words and to gleaning from your harvest. As always …

Peace for the journey,  

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