Category Archives: living God’s truth

an opportune time . . .

A couple of nights ago, I called my older boys and offered them this caution:

“Be on guard, sons. Apparently our family is now Satan’s new, favorite chew-toy.”

The next morning, my mother called with a similar warning:

“Elaine, I’ve been standing here in front of the mirror, curling my hair and thinking about all that’s been going on in our family over the past couple of weeks. We’re fighting something we cannot see, a battle of spiritual proportion.”

It seems as if my family is standing up against a formidable foe in this season, feeling the constraints of our faith in overload. Accordingly, I go to God’s Word this morning and allow it to speak truth to my soul. In thinking about Christ’s struggle against the enemy, I am strengthened in my own efforts at resistance.

“When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.” –Luke 4:15

Two things strike me about this verse:

  • An opportune time known as desert testing.
  • An opportune time yet to come.

There’s a plurality to the devil’s scheming. Funny how often we’re surprised by this reality. It’s not as if one opportune time is more difficult than the other. Opportune times are straining times, all of them stretching the comfortable boundaries of faith and requiring a step beyond what feels reasonable. I don’t imagine many of us go looking for opportune times (especially ones involving a forty day fast in the desert or a gut-wrenching surrender to nails and a hammer); instead, they seem to find us, pulling us in without notice. Almost accidentally.

Almost.

Opportune times. The Greek word kairos, meaning “season, opportune time. It is not merely as a succession of moments, which is “chronos,” but a period of opportunity (though not necessity). It is a critical or decisive point in time; a moment of great importance and significance; a point when something is ready or favorable, a propitious moment.” (NIV Key Word Study Bible, 1635-1636).

Read that again slowly and consider Christ’s conflict; consider your own. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Opportune times are not accidental occasions. Instead, they are orchestrated, carefully selected, and purposely planned. Whether schemed by the devil for our destruction or willingly allowed by God for our perfection, opportune times are those hinge moments in our life’s history that swing faith in one of two directions: a right one or a wrong one. Really, there’s no middle ground in opportune seasons. Either we live them right—live them forward and in faith—or we live the lesser road. A road of regression, wrongful conclusions, and regrettable distrust.

I don’t want to live on the side of distrust. I want to live rightly on the side of faith, fully believing that no weapon forged against me will prevail. That, in fact, victory is my heritage as a servant of the Lord (see Isaiah 45:17). Accordingly, I must pick up the sword of the Spirit and strap on my spiritual armor, because the opportunistic arrows of the enemy will not be quenched by feeble, weak-minded, and weak-willed faith. No, to stop his forward progression, I must stand in the strength of who I am in Jesus Christ.

I am God’s child. I am his chosen bride. I am the apple of his eye.

So are you.

Be on guard, friends. If you’re not in the middle of an opportune season right now, I imagine one is waiting for you down the road. Don’t fear its advent; rather, recognize it as it arrives and for what it has the potential to be—a hinge moment in your faith’s history that will strengthen your understanding of God and will catapult your witness forward for the exponential increase of the kingdom.

Satan may have come to me and my family in what he thought to be his opportune time. However, he seems to have momentarily ignored that my times (opportune and otherwise) are in God’s hands. They all belong to him, and his purposes for my life override any schemes to the contrary. God holds the chain to the short leash attached around Satan’s roaming, and today my Father has willingly and forcefully yanked it a few times so that the devil remembers who’s in charge.

I am grateful for God’s strength in this season and for your prayers that have, undoubtedly, tightened the noose around the devil’s neck. What privilege there is in standing alongside you, my mighty warrior friends! As always . . .Peace for the journey,

hearts on pilgrimage . . .

 

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.” –Psalm 84:5

 

Her heart spilled over into mine as I read the struggle in her words. Another pastor’s wife, just like me, living the itinerant lifestyle—a nomadic calling of sorts, requiring that the tent pegs remain pliable and the baggage minimal. She asked me if I ever felt “stretched and thinned” by it all, ever really felt settled in my spirit about the ministry road and my calling to stand jointly alongside my husband as a harbinger of the kingdom of God.

Stretched and thinned. An apt description for those (not just pastors and their families) who pick up the Gospel torch and who covenant with the Creator to carry it forward. Stretching and thinning is part of our trajectory of faith. From “strength to strength” with the line in between tethered to tomorrow’s promise while being restrained by yesterday’s productivity. A sacred tension between our future and our history and, if not carefully protected by perspective, a rip or two in the fabric of our souls.

Yes . . . stretched and thinned, even unsettled at times. This is where I’ve been in recent days, standing next to the man I love with one hand clasped around his and the other hand loosening the tent pegs at my feet. The last time I felt this kind of pull was three years ago when we moved to our present location. The road to arrive here was a bumpy one, and my heart was torn in two at the thought of having to start all over again.

Today, my heart feels the same, a difficult tug between all that’s been and all that will be. Stretching and thinning, desperately trying to keep in step with the Spirit and with the preacher-man whom the Father has so generously given to me for this life. Together, we’ve set our hearts on pilgrimage, knowing that the time has come for us to move forward in faith. In June, we’ll make our trek southward to a small community just north of the South Carolina state line.

I don’t imagine it will come as easily as I would like for it to, and I’ve long since given up trying to forecast the future. I can only live the stretching and thinning of this day and commit my forward movement to God’s forwarding grace. He will see to my next steps, and he’s too thorough with my sanctification to leave one stone unturned or untouched by his refining love.

Oh friends, would you pray for us, all six of us? We’re all being stretched and thinned by God’s good pleasure and because of his strong desire to move us further along in our perfection. But along the way and as we go, it’s good to know that we have friends who partner with us in the advancing of God’s kingdom through prayer. If you’re so inclined, we covet your prayers for:

  • a collective faith unafraid to move forward;
  • a resolute-passionate spirit to get the job done;
  • an unbridled, heavenly joy to keep us company as we walk it out.

If I’m going to be stretched and thinned let it be so for the glory and renown of my faithful God who has yet to waste a single, surrendered moment of my life. He’ll work with what he gets, and today I’m putting my all back into his hands.

Peace for the journey, ye pilgrims of grace. I’m so blessed to have you partner alongside my heart as we all move onward and upward to take hold of all of that for which Christ Jesus has taken hold of us. I love you dearly.

PS: Photo credit – KCC Photography, Fayetteville’s finest photographer!

Lying Down . . .

 

I’m not a huge fan of the Academy Awards, not because I have anything against honoring quality art via the silver screen but mostly because of the seemingly endless parade of the self-impressed. Couple this with the fact that I haven’t seen ninety-nine percent of the movies up for awards, and well, let’s just say my interest peeks with the red carpet and its dazzling display of gowns.

I am, however, a fan of good words spoken at the right time. Certainly, movies are filled with many such moments, but when those moments happen off stage (when the actor removes the mask and throws the script to the sidelines in favor of real-life drama), I’m duly impressed by the dialogue. Such was the case with Daniel Day-Lewis following his 3rd Oscar win for his portrayal of Abraham Lincoln. Backstage after his win, Daniel was asked regarding his plans for the future, about what character he might like to play next. His response immediately gripped my heart:

“I need to lie down for a couple of years. It’s really hard to imagine doing anything after this.” (see source)

He’s going to lie down. Take a lengthy sabbatical with his family on his fifty acre farm south of Dublin, Ireland. Work on other things, like perfecting his cobbling (shoe-making) abilities or learning the rural skill of stonemasonry. Just “happily working away at other things.” (see source) Daniel Day-Lewis is going to lie down for a season, away from the stage and the bright lights of the big city.

What a wise choice.

I am challenged to follow his lead. Bright lights and big stages serve their purposes, but once the curtain goes down and the camera crew heads home, it’s time for a breather. Time to fuel up, rest up alongside the still waters where the only stage beneath my feet is carpeted with green pastures and the only light framing my steps radiates from the candle of the Shepherd.

My lengthy sabbatical with God to happily work away at other things.

Those things? Well, I don’t imagine it’s important to discuss them here. What is important is knowing that those things exist and that only by my lying down for a season will I be able to most happily, most agreeably engage with them. The good that grows in the pasture is not easily grown on the stage. Bright lights and big audiences—too much shine and too much recognition—dim the eyes and dull the senses, kind of like a blundering sheep in need of a wise Shepherd.

Life is changing for me . . . again. I must travel with the shifting wind, not against it. To fight my lying down is to relinquish the merry pleasures of rest. To linger on the stage after the curtain is drawn and the audience has departed is to stand alone and to feel lonely. But to leave with them? To trade in the stage for God’s greener pastures where dialogue is limited to just the Shepherd and me? Well I don’t suppose I’ve ever felt more enveloped in the fellowship of the Beloved.

I need to lie down for a while, friends. This doesn’t mean I won’t be here from time to time. Every sheep needs a flock, and you are mine. I simply need to give myself permission to happily work away at other things.

Soul things. Intimate things. God things.

Lying beside the still waters and on a blanket of green.

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

walk on . . .

“As long as you move, everything’s good.”

I welcome her encouragement, this guru of walking-at-home. Leslie Sansone has been a part of my life for many years now. And while I’m not completely convinced about her claims to Walk Away the Pounds or Walk Slim, I am convinced regarding her encouragement:

“As long as you move, everything’s good.”

I put this encouragement to the test a few weeks ago. With the onset of a new year, I decided to move in a new direction. High hopes accompanied me as I launched into a one-on-one session with Jillian Michaels and her 30 Day Shred. My hopes were summarily dashed within a couple of workouts. The only shredding that took place was inside my left knee; I’ve spent the last two weeks in a Futuro knee brace, nursing my pain along with my (uhh-hmm) . . . pride. Jillian and I have parted company, and Leslie has welcomed me back with open arms. At least with her, I’m able to keep moving forward rather than staying immobilized by a plan that will never move me farther than my couch.

Don’t misunderstand me. Not all pain is bad. Pain can be a strong motivator toward good. But when pain cripples the hope—when pain stops forward progression—it’s time to re-evaluate the plan. Time to dial it back a notch, look at the overall goal, and keep in stride with a battle strategy that makes good sense and that reinstates hope.

“As long as you move, everything’s good.”

I want to keep moving forward, and I desperately long for the good attached to that movement. Unfortunately, there are times in my life when my visioning jumps in front of reasonable capabilities. Times when I ignore my limitations and forge ahead of good sense. Instead of relying on proven, trustworthy methods for gaining optimal heart-health, I rely on lofty notions that (in the end) prove to me what I already know to be true . . .

Some plans aren’t meant for me. Some of them cripple me instead of developing me. Too much jumping and bending and straining in the wrong direction will limit me rather than improve me. Sometimes, the healthiest thing I can do for my body and, ultimately for my soul, is to anchor my will and my “want to” in what I know to be true.

“As long as you move, everything’s good.”

And so it goes. I walk on. One step at a time, one day at a time, keeping my pace steady and certain, knowing that movement wins and believing that as long as I’m giving my body, soul, and sweat to the task of heart-health, everything’s good, even when I can’t measure it.

Maybe today you’re jumping in the wrong direction; maybe your straining has landed you on the couch—an unexpected detour in your plans for a better you. You meant well, thought it was the right move, but instead of tangible gain, you’re left holding the shreds of disappointment. What you had hoped to accomplish is, instead, simmering as failure in and around your spirit. You’ve lost your “want to”, and the funny thing is you can’t even pinpoint where it all went wrong, especially because you meant for it all to finish very right.

I’m sorry, friend. Truly I am. I know this present pain of body, soul, and spirit. And so today, might I offer you (even as I am offering myself) a tender hug as well as a gentle encouragement?

“As long as you move, everything’s good.” Ditch what’s crippling you and, as an alternative, walk back to what’s reliable. Walk back to what’s proven in order to walk forward with what’s true. Don’t be sidelined by your pain; instead, keep moving. Move with the One who brought you, and surely his goodness and mercy will follow you–carry and strengthen you–all the days your life. And we’ll all dwell in the house of the Lord forever!

Movement wins. I promise. Keep to it. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

Main . . .

I gently reached down and touched her chapped hands. Tenderly they rested on the pew in front of us as we chorused our way through five verses of “We Three Kings.” Her hands have grown over the years, no longer balled into tiny fists; no longer reaching outward to explore a rattler or a peg board. Time has shaped her hands in accordance with the calendar, but I will always recognize them. No matter the weathering that life may bring to them, my daughter’s hands are forever burned into memory. As I stood alongside my Amelia and bravely sang the stanzas, I pondered this heart truth from my friend, Alicia:

This is“main” (Anonymous, pp. 18 – 21). “Main is not behind us. Nor is main way out ahead of us.” (Anonymous, p. 21) Yes! This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Not tomorrow’s soon-to-be; not yesterday’s once-was. No, those moments aren’t here for me to hold. This one is. This is main. And this is enough.

I spent a lot of my earlier years striving for the main of my tomorrows. It would be easy for me to conclude (in these my latter years) that main has already been . . . that at forty-six, I’ve had my main moments. The rest of them, what’s left? Perhaps the crumbs or the last scrape of batter from the cake bowl. That’s what the world would have me to believe, the enemy as well. But God’s belief system takes a grand departure from the ordinary. God has something more to say about my main.

“I tell you, now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Cor. 6:2)

Now. Not yesterday; not tomorrow. Now salvation. Now deliverance. Now preservation. Now safety.

Now . . . Jesus.

There’s no greater main than Jesus. Hold him—touch his weathered hands while chorusing his weathered journey—and all moments become sacredly main.

Less looking back at a past hard to remember. Less staring into a future not easily predicted. Instead, more . . .  beautifully more, gazing into the moment right in front of me. In a pew; at the kitchen sink; sitting in traffic; under the covers; while conversing with a good book, a good friend, even with a blank computer screen. Wherever I am and whatever my hands find to do, these are all main because God is there with me. To delight in him and with him, even in the seemingly mundane, makes all of life a grand and glorious celebration. I’m not there yet, but I’m not far from taking hold of it.

“Glorious now behold Him arise,

King and God and Sacrifice;

Alleluia, Alleluia!

Earth to heaven replies.

O star of wonder, star of night,

Star with royal beauty bright;

Westward leading, still proceeding,

Guide us to thy perfect light.”

His star still leads me, and the earthly in me still cries out to the heavenly in him . . .

“Guide me, precious Jesus, to your perfect light.”

Today is main, no matter the moments in front of us, friends. Receive them sacredly, grasp them tenderly, and protect them fiercely. God’s light shines in them all. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

PS: Today I have the privilege of making available to one of you, the audio version of Anonymous: Jesus’ Hidden Years and Yours by Alicia Chole. Leave a comment today, sharing with me about living your main in the mundane. Where have you found Jesus today? I’ll draw a winner with my next post. Shalom.

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