Category Archives: living God’s truth

the truth about God…

 {“… longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”}

First things first. I wish I could gift each one of you a copy of Lisa Whittle’s new book, {w}hole. It’s just that good. That being said, the family budget only allows for two winners this go around, and those who’ve been chosen through random.org are Tiffany @ Tea with Tiffany and Terri Tiffany. Weird that they both have Tiffany as a name. Congratulations girls. Please e-mail me your snail mail, and I’ll get these to you in swift order.

Now, on to a thought for the day. A question really. One that’s been simmering close to my heart these past couple of days, because my heart has been tenderly bruised by the painful realities that sometime accompany a heart’s vulnerability—a heart’s willingness to lay open for exposure without placing any conditions on how it may or may not be received. Problem is (whether we realize it or not), we almost always place conditions on such vulnerabilities. We long for certain outcomes, and when the outcomes don’t meet up with our initial expectations, we’re sometimes left with a deficit of hope.

“Hope deferred does, indeed, make the heart sick; but longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverbs 13:12).

Deferred hope. Who of us hasn’t experienced this kind of heartache at least once, twice, or fifty times in our lifetimes? When this happens, even as it has happened for me this week, we must practice our faith despite worldly contradictions. We must speak it, rehearse it, pray it, and read it until we finally, again, rise to believe it. If we are to recover from the searing pain of hopelessness, then we must hit our knees to the floor and reach out for truth. God’s truth. Not truth as the world gives, but the truth that truly is and that lives in the heart and witness of Jesus Christ.

So, here is my question for you. A fill-in-the-blank sort of pondering. What answers would you provide to the following statement?:

I know that God is ________________________, because ________________________ .

What one (realizing that there are many) characteristic of God is most relevant, most needful, most apparent to you today—one thing that you “know that you know that you know” about our God? And secondly, you know this to be true because… (try to be specific here using a particular example of when this particular characteristic of God was made evident in your life).

Why the exercise?

Because sometimes we need the benefit, the courage, the strength, and the testimony of other believers to buoy us along on our road toward deeper faith. I certainly could use your witness today. If you’re so inclined and have the time, I’d love to hear some truth about our God. 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

"Go back the way you came… "

“Then a voice said to him, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’ He replied, ‘I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.’ The LORD said to him, ‘Go back the way you came, … .’” (1 Kings 19:14-15).

 

Go back the way you came.

I have no doubt that this is God’s message to me today. Perhaps to one or two of you as well. Thus, a moment of unpacking it with you if you, like Elijah, are…

  • exhausted from the well-fought battle against Baal on Mt. Carmel;
  • weary from trying to outrun Jezebel;
  • worn out from forty days and nights of wandering toward the mountain of the Lord.

Exhausted, weary, and worn. Anyone? So much so that you’re willing to say, “I’ve had enough, LORD… take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Modern day translation? “Even so, Lord Jesus, come and rescue me from my misery.”

I know. A hard truth to admit, perhaps even shameful to some of you. But I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve had a few days in the last 365 days when, like Elijah, the span between the pain that I was feeling and the peace of God’s mountain seemed insurmountable. Too far away. Too long in coming. Too high a climb. Too much of a requirement for the feeble flesh that holds my inward parts together. Times when the weightiness of the load that  I was carrying led to my collapse and my “Enough, Lord.”

Who of us hasn’t felt the chasm between our earthly pain and God’s heavenly gain?

I wonder about the motive behind Elijah’s trek to God’s mountain. Perhaps he came for clarification—for the defining purpose behind his next steps. Perhaps to be heard. Perhaps to claim “safe sanctuary” or to cry out “Base!” as I so often shouted as a child during a game of neighborhood tag. But just today, I thought about something else. About another reason for Elijah’s run to Mt. Horeb. Could it be that the memory of Moses’ ascent to Mt. Nebo was running through his mind as he came to God’s mountain? When God called Moses to the mountain, Moses made the climb knowing that he would not return to the valley of God’s people (see Deut. 32:48-52). Moses came to Mt. Nebo to die; perhaps Elijah came to Mt. Horeb with hopes of doing the same. Perhaps Elijah was ready to go home … to be removed from his struggles and to be at rest with his Father.

God had other plans for Elijah. God has other plans for me, and if you’re reading this today, he has some further plans for you.

Go back the way you came. As hard as it seems, go back the way you came.

Back to the desert. Back down into the valley where Jezebel lives. Back to the forty days and nights of having to depend on God to fuel your heart, your thoughts, and your stomach for the ministry season yet to come. There’s more work to be done. More people who need the witness of your story. More strengthening of the remnant that remains behind.

Go back the way you came.

This will be, perhaps, one of the hardest God-given directives over your life. But it is God’s directive to give; yours to obey. In doing so, you will be given what you need to make the descent off of God’s mountain and to live in the valley below. Your earthly work is not over, friend. You must keep to the faith that you boldly proclaim. Mt. Horeb, Mt. Nebo, Mt. Heaven will come to you soon enough. Until then…

Go back the way you came, carrying God’s kingdom with you as you go. As always, may God’s peace for the journey be your portion as you take your next steps of faithful obedience. I’ll meet you in the valley where we can confidently live out our purposes beneath the protective shadow of our Father’s mountain.

STRONG… {the Word of God has spoken}

My son came home early from school one day this week. Allergies and a corresponding headache were to blame. I quickly developed a headache of my own when I realized the mountain of homework that resulted from his premature departure from the classroom.

Ugh. Big Ugh. Guttural Ugh.

Homework and I are not friends. It is a constant drain on the energy in our household, most of us boasting a few scars from the woundings that have taken place over the years. I’ve been through the fifth grade with my children three times now. Four if you count the first time when I was a student in Mrs. Hitch’s classroom at Wilmore Elementary. Images of having to wear a red velvet dress and white sandals for a speech contest flash through my mind. So does the image of Mrs. Hitch disciplining me for chasing Robbie L. around the classroom in order to pounce on him for teasing me about said dress. Unlike my son, I didn’t have an educational learning issue—just a people one. I’ll let you decide which is worse.

But I digress. Back to homework, to a poorly feeling boy, and to his mother who was less than thrilled about completing missed assignments. We started with the easiest—Math. Worked our way through the worst–History, Science, and Language–rounding the bend with Bible. Yes, Bible. Our kids attend a Christian school. Having never worked through a Bible lesson with him before, my curiosity was peeked. The day’s lesson?

Bible tracts. What they are, how they’re used, and the overriding hope and purpose behind a small piece of paper that is easily transferred into the hands of total strangers. The lesson emphasized the powerful effect of a tract by citing examples of real, life-changing encounters that have happened as a direct result of a tract being received. The lesson also made mention of the fact that, with these examples, few words were spoken between the individuals in the exchange. Simply a transfer of material between two hearts, two hands. The question for the student (and for this less than cooperative mother/teacher) was, “What does this tell you about what’s written on the tract?”

Both of us sat with the question for a few minutes, and then I asked my son again.

“Jadon, if this small piece of paper, written with a few words from God’s Word, has the power to change a heart and lead a person to surrendering his/her life to Jesus Christ, then what does it say about the words on this tract?”

He thought for a long time. I could tell the wheels were turning in a right and proper direction, and then he responded … better than I thought he might.

“Strong. They’re strong words, mom. If they can change a heart, then they are strong.”

Lesson learned by a boy. Lesson re-learned by a grown woman.

Powerful and effective is the Word of God, strong enough to stand on its own, with or without my own words alongside. God’s Word doesn’t need my words to make it true, to make it right, to make it worthy. Sometimes fewer words from my lips is the better course of action when it comes to the dispensation of God’s truth. Sometimes human dialogue, wordy platitudes, and self-impressed knowledge can hinder truth’s progress. Sometimes it’s just better to let the strong Word of God breathe.

Strong. There’s strength there, friends. When was the last time you released God’s Word into the air, into the heart of a loved one, a family member, a stranger and let it breathe without your manipulation?

I trust in the strength of God’s Word, and I am humbled by the privilege and charge that has been entrusted to me as a child of the King to share it with others. I may not always share it eloquently; more than likely I’ll stumble and bumble my way through the process. But in the end, God’s Word will stand. Not by my might, but by the power and strength of the Mighty One whose Word cannot be undone. Only realized as truth.

Realize Him, this weekend. Recognize Him. Remember Him. Release Him. He will do the rest. As always…

Peace for the journey,
~elaine

this is my gospel…

 “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descended from David. This is my gospel, for which I am suffering even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But God’s word is not chained.” (2 Timothy 2:8-9).

Quietly, she’s entered into my world. A month ago, I didn’t know she existed. But then she slipped in. Courageously and without pretense she came. Settled in close to my pew, even closer to my heart. And there she has stayed.

A single mom of a one-year-old daughter. Broken. Scarred. Frightened. Confused. Feeling like nothing, like forgotten, like trapped with nowhere else to run to but to church. No one else to turn to but to Jesus.

What courage she has displayed with her choosing—with the willing exposure of her heart to complete strangers in hopes of finding solace to replace the aggravation she has known. Something tells me she needs me. Something tells me I need her as well. And in the midst of all the needing, I search for answers—for a gift to give her beyond the customary hug and offer of prayer. I long to do more, to give better, to reach beyond safe borders in order to fix her heart and to remove her pain.

It is immense, her pain. Relevant and obvious. Tender and confrontational. One would be hard-pressed to miss it; still and yet, most will go out of their way to avoid it. Personal pain is hard enough to manage without taking on the pain of a stranger. So I tread cautiously, carefully toward her, creating a safe place for her to share her story. Bits and pieces are emerging to form a clearer picture. As they materialize, I hold them in my heart and try to make sense of it all. Try to manage my reactions; try to reason my responses. Try to figure out what I can tell her that might bring her one step closer to freedom. Try to get the words out of my heart that will usher her to the threshold of God’s hold. Try to give her truth. True truth. Not relative truth, but real faith-in-the-flesh God truth.

Jesus Christ.

This is my gospel. He is my gospel.

Jesus Christ, raised from the dead. Jesus Christ, descended from David. Jesus Christ, God’s Son. Jesus Christ, Son of Man. God incarnate. God made flesh. God with me, Emmanuel.

This is my gospel. My glad tidings and sacred proclamation of the grace that I have found in Jesus Christ. The good news according to the good Book that has led millions of souls down the path toward freedom to arrive beneath the threshold of God’s hold. This is where I begin with her—where the hug extends its witness beyond what is safe and customary.

The Gospel is anything but.

The Gospel is the most confrontational, exceptional, and beautifully dangerous word of truth ever received by and into human hearts. It is the one key to unlocking personal pain. The one salve to soothe suffering. The one road map that will point the lost toward home. It’s all I know to give her. The best I know to give her.

This is my gospel. This is my story. It will be enough to point her home.

What is your gospel, friends? Your story? Your truth? Will it be enough to point the broken, the scarred, the frightened, and the confused back to Jesus? Is the grace and freedom you’ve received as your own the same grace and freedom you extend to others? What life has settled in next to yours that needs the witness of something more than a customary hug or offer of prayer? When was the last time you spoke truth into pain … grace and mercy into brokenness? The last time you stretched your heart wide to include the heart of the hurting?

It’s not always easy to extend welcoming inclusion to others, especially when suffering your own personal trauma. But one thing is for certain. Pain isn’t going anywhere, nor are those who are most affected by its insistence. Pain is all around us and will continue its assault upon us until we’re willing to treat it with the truth of Jesus Christ.

The God who chose to make his dwelling with us.
The God who has suffered as we have suffered.
The God who willingly walked to the cross so that we might walk in freedom.
The God who rose from the dead so that we might, also, one day rise to him.

This is my gospel. A worthy truth. A worthy witness. A worthy Word for all seasons, painful and otherwise. Would you take time to examine the gospel according to you this week? Do so beneath the watchful gaze of the Gospel according to Jesus Christ. Find where you are lacking and strengthen your story. There’s a hurting heart, maybe even nestled in next to you on the pew, who needs the witness of God’s truth. No one can live it, speak it, and give it as well as you can.

Even so, get to it… keep to it. As always…

Peace for the journey,
~elaine

error: Content is protected !!