My Calling is to Abide

“Abide in Me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches. He who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:4-5

For years now I have been convinced that my call in life is to be a missionary. My love for different languages and countries stems back to my childhood, and as I look at my life, my passions, and my desires, I believe God created me for such a purpose. It all seems to fit perfectly together. It even sounds right: missionary Mary. My future was set as far as I was concerned- I was going to be a missionary. Yet these past few weeks as my school traveled throughout Mexico to spread the good news of the gospel, I was blindsided by the truth of my calling, and it wasn’t the truth I was expecting.

You see, in my head I imagined my trip to Mexico going much differently than it had. It wasn’t because of the people or even what we did while we were there, but because of the situation of my heart. I presumed that I would come alive on the mission field as I had the previous year in the Dominican Republic. (Oh, how my heart had soared on that trip)! This was, after all, what I wanted to do with my life. Surely I would excel, right?

Wrong. Well, sort of.

When my team woke up our first day in Mexico, I felt as if I had been hit in the face with lethargy, indifference, and selfishness. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to pray for people. I didn’t want to serve, to love, to minister. It was day one and I felt like I had nothing to give. What was happening in my heart? I was entirely apathetic, and it destroyed me inside. Isn’t this where I want to be in life? Why don’t I care now that I’m here? How can I be a missionary if I feel this way?

My doubts turned into a fierce determination to prove that I had what it takes. I didn’t understand why I was apathetic, but I didn’t care. I was going to prove that I could be a missionary. I wasn’t going to let a bad day stop me from doing what I was born to do. I was made for this, remember?

Ironically (or not so ironically), I didn’t have just one bad day. Day two, day three, day four came and went, and I was nothing but lethargic. Very little of me cared, and after four days of striving to prove I had what it takes to be a missionary, I was exhausted. I now felt like I truly had nothing to give. I was at the end of myself, and I had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of the trip- we weren’t even halfway through. I didn’t know what to do; I felt like all that was within me was dry and shriveled. I had nothing to give.

I cried out to God all I knew to say. “Lord, I need you!” He smirked at me and replied, “Yes. Yes, you do.”

I felt defeated. I felt so incapable. “I can’t be a missionary, God. I don’t have it in me. I can’t do this.”

“No,” He said, “you can’t.”

Wait, what? That was not the response I expected at all. Wasn’t He supposed to encourage me and tell me I could do this?

“You can’t do this,” He said again. “You don’t have it in you to live a lifestyle of love and serving and ministering to others. That is precisely the point. You can’t do this without Me. You need Me. Whether I’ve called you and crafted you to be a missionary or not, you need Me. You can’t do this in your own strength.”

I understood this simple truth, that I need Jesus, on a much deeper level that morning. Those first four days I saw who I was without Him: selfish, uncompassionate, loveless, lethargic, exhausted, and incapable. It was not a pretty picture. Yet I saw who I am and all I was able to do in my own strength, and I assure you it was not much. Though I was going through the motions, my heart was empty. My motives were selfish. There was nothing lovely about it.

I was incredibly humbled that day. I realized, in a fresh way, how it is not in my strength at all. It will not be my strength that will make me a missionary (or an effective one). No, it is always, only, entirely the Lord.

“This is the word of the Lord to [Mary]: Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of hosts.” Zechariah 4:6

This truth seems so basic, and many of us will openly say it with ease, yet how little we understand this. We are in desperate need of the Lord, and sometimes He must bring us to the end of ourselves so we may recognize this. Do we truly believe that apart from Him we can do nothing? Until we do, I am confident that whatever we achieve will be very little, and it will surely perish. We must come to a point where we believe that goodness does not originate within ourselves but with the Lord. If we still think we are good without Him, we will never be convinced we wholly need Him.

The minute we believe we have our own strength, we won’t depend on the One who is strong.

It is amazing, really, how Jesus knows exactly what needs to be done. He knows the independence and pride that still lives in my heart, and He took me on a journey of humility in order to combat it. In His gentleness and loving-kindness, God is taking me from the end of myself to where I am at the beginning of Him; Him and me. Not me, but Him with me- Him through me.

As I meditate on this truth and think of all the times loved ones have told me I have “become more patient” or have “become less angry,” I wonder if I actually have at all. I wonder not because I don’t believe it’s true, but because I ponder what I could have possibly done to become such. I don’t think I have done anything. I have simply stepped aside. The truth is that the Spirit living inside of me is patient; He is not angry. He loves with abandon, and He is strong. Once again, it is not me. I thank God for this, because I know in myself I can’t be those things.

I once heard it said the beginning of finding purpose in life is realizing it’s not about you. I never understood this like I do today. Thank God it is not about us in our own strength- He knows that would not get us very far.  

“John answered and said, A man cannot receive anything unless it has been given to him from heaven … He must increase, but I must decrease.” John 3:27,30.

Oh, by the way, I am still confident that I am called to be a missionary, though not because I’m all that great. It is only because the One who lives in me is great. His goodness is much more assuring than my own, anyway. 

Be Loved, Beloved.

“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus, who, existing in the form of God, did not consider being equal with God a treasure to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave, becoming in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, becoming obedient even unto death, and that the death of a cross.” Philippians 2:5-8

Be like Jesus. That’s pretty simple, right?

It sure sounds simple- it’s only three words. Paul certainly makes it sound painless. “Let this mind be in you.” To “let” something be doesn’t sound all that complicated.

Yet it is, isn’t it?

But why? I keep asking myself this question. Why is walking in humility as Jesus did so difficult? Why was Jesus able to lay down everything in obedience? Why are we so incapable of doing the same, living in pride rather than humility?

Maybe I’m a bit misguided, but I think pride and false humility are huge stumbling blocks in the lives of American Christians. We can’t seem to get over it. Either we’re fighting to prove our abilities and why we’re better than everyone else (pride), or we’re convinced we don’t matter one bit and everyone else deserves to be treated better than we are (false humility). The American church is experiencing an epidemic of over-inflated or severely under-inflated egos.

In this area, we often don’t look much different than the world.

Yet here we see Jesus, the One we desire to resemble, who is God. He is all-powerful. He is all-knowing. He is infinite, complex, and grandiose. He is mighty in every way, and He willingly lays it all down to become a man. In obedience to the Father, He lays down His very nature. How quick are we to do the same?

How quickly will we remain quiet even if we have the answer? How often will we let another complete a task we could do better? How willingly will we serve those we believe should be serving us? When do we lay down what is natural for us- strategy, intelligence, work, creativity, speech, etc. - and allow the spotlight to be given to another? If anything, we look for opportunities to show others we are these things.

Jesus didn’t do that.

Once again I ask myself, “Why not?” What did Jesus have that we didn’t? What did He know that we don’t? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not satisfied by answering, “Well, He’s God. That’s why.” No, no. I can’t accept that’s why.

So, you want to know what I think? I think Jesus knew something we don’t. Scratch that. I know Jesus knew something we don’t.

Jesus knew who He was; He was confident in who He was to the One who mattered most.

Jesus didn’t have to fight for His identity- He was secure in it already. He didn’t have to be the one on center stage to assure Himself that He was capable or valuable. Jesus didn’t have anything to prove, and I believe it was from this foundation He was able to lay Himself down. I am convinced we could live in the same way if we only knew who we are.

I believe when we know who we are and what we are worth, we are free to humbly empty ourselves rather than scrap for identity and value. When we live from a place of knowing our true worth, we are able to serve because we know it doesn’t mean we are less worthy; it just means the one we serve also has value.  In this place we are able to shine the spotlight on others because we know it doesn’t mean we don’t have talents; we are free to acknowledge the gifts of others. In this place we are eager to lay ourselves down so another may stand; we can know we are capable, yet give others room to soar.

When we know who we are we live differently, and I believe this was one of Jesus’ secrets in humility.

So how do we become humble people? We learn, recognize, and accept that we are beloved children of God. We are unique. We are a masterpiece. We are cherished. Not only this, but we are important. We are delightful to our Father. We are loved.

If we can live in this place, I truly believe we can begin to walk in humility. Not only because we will no longer have anything to prove for ourselves, but because we will begin to see others as the beloved, and it will feel like a pleasure to serve those whom God so dearly loves.

Live in this place, beloved. This is who you are.

“For through Him we both have access through one spirit unto the Father. Therefore we are no longer strangers and sojourners but fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.” Ephesians 2:18-19

“You have not received a spirit of slavery bringing you into fear once again, but you have received a spirit of sonship in which we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself witnesses to our spirit that we are children of God. And if children, heirs also. On the one hand, heirs of God. On the other hand, heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him that we may also be glorified with Him.” Romans 8:15-17

“As my Father has loved Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love.” John 15:9

 “For it was You who formed my inward parts; You wove me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; You works are wonderful, and my soul knows it well.” Psalm 139:13-14

“He has predestined us unto sonship through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will.” Ephesians 1:5

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! That is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know Him. Beloved, now we are children of God …” 1 John 3:1-2a

To Be or Not To Be ... Independent.

These past few months have been a trying season of life for me. I don’t want to be overly dramatic and say that I feel like my life has been falling apart or anything, but most days I have felt like it was. Okay, maybe not my life, but myself. Yes, that’s more accurate. I felt like I was falling apart. I haven’t been in deep despair or hopelessness or even depression, though. It’s not that kind of falling apart. It’s the kind where you almost feel crazy because the struggle is very real, yet it’s all happening inside of you.

That’s just how it feels, I suppose, when you are fighting yourself. My heart is battling to obey God, but my flesh is combating my heart, and my mind isn’t yet sure which is going to win. I have felt as if I am being torn apart at the seams, and I am the one doing the tearing.

Nearly every day these past few months has been a battle: a trying, exhausting, stressful, painful, terrifying, and one-hundred-other-adjectives battle. I might’ve given up a long time ago if I hadn’t heard the voice of the Lord.

… … … …

God has asked me to give up some pretty hefty things before. Some were parts of my life that hurt so deeply to let go of that it brought me to my knees in hysterics. He has asked me to give up the man I planned on marrying. He has asked me to give up my home. He has asked me to give up trips to Spain and jobs and future plans for my life. I’m not a stranger to the sacrifices God sometimes asks us to make so we can live out the better plans He has for our lives.

In another sense, I am also familiar with the ways in which God has asked me to give up parts of who I was and who I can sometimes still be. “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me” (Luke 9:23). The Lord has asked me to give up aspects such as my impatience, my anger, my judgment, and my unforgiving heart. I’m not a stranger to this sometimes difficult process of becoming more Christ-like every day. Believe me, it can be a battle.

But what He has asked of me this time… this is different. Why so? Well, because it feels like it goes against my very character. I have believed it is my character. It seems contradictory to everything I’ve learned through experience. It doesn’t make sense to give up my survival tactic when I am in survival mode.

These past few months God has asked me to give up my independence, and it has torn me apart.

“What does that even mean?” some of you may ask. That’s a great question, because I asked it too. Ever since I was an infant I have been independent and I’ve always believed it to be a positive, beneficial trait. I couldn’t understand why God would want to take that from me. I thought that maybe what He was really after was the attitude within me that said, “I can do it myself. I don’t want any help. I’ve got my own back.” I thought maybe He wasn’t concerned so much with my independence as He was with the pride, distrust, and insecurity that lived behind it.

“Ok, so … dependence, huh? You want me to be dependent because you’re my Father, right? Well, I guess I’ll try.” I believed God told me that He wanted me to depend on Him rather than on myself for what I need, and He wanted me to become a person who chose to look to Him for my life. I felt like this was what I was supposed to do, so I tried. Thus the battle ensued.

You see, dependence on a reliable father was a nice idea to me, but it was just that: a nice idea. In actuality, it made me want to scream because I didn’t believe it. I didn’t see it. I couldn’t comprehend finding such security and safety and dependability in a father, and so I took care of myself. I didn’t want a father to care for me- I felt like I had been doing fine without one. I shuddered at even the thought of letting down my walls of independence for a father I wasn’t sure was actually there.  I didn’t want to, and it hurt to even try.

So, metaphorically, this is what my life has looked like: I imagine a picture of Jesus and me sitting together in a small row boat. Unfortunately, there is a decent-sized hole in the bottom of it. Water begins to fill the boat and my initial reaction is to jump up and throw the water out. At the very least I’d plug up the hole with my socks or something. As I get up to start scooping out the water, Jesus calmly tells me to sit. “Sit? But, but Jesus … we’re drowning,” I say.

I try to explain to Him that I don’t mind scooping out the water. I remind Him that I am capable of scooping out the water. Even better, doing so would likely make me feel purposeful and accomplished, so I want to throw out the water. I can fix it, Jesus. Really, it’s no problem. Let me fix it.

Yet all He says to me is the same, frustrating word: sit.

You know, sitting doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve been convinced for a long time that if I don’t take care of myself no one else will, so when someone tells me to stop looking out for myself I get a little crazy inside. Panic sets in. Fear, doubt, and restlessness shout, “If I don’t do it, who will?!” Not only this, but I don’t mind providing for myself. In fact, I enjoy it. I’m a worker at heart, and I was even as a child. I didn’t play “house” as a kid; I played “I’m going to work in my cubicle and be productive and independent.”  It’s just who I was and who I am and who I thought I wanted to be.

Well, it turns out that didn’t sit well with Jesus.

So there I was in my figurative boat, trying to sit when my whole being was telling me to stand. My heart wanted to trust God, but every other part of me was convinced I could only trust myself. I’d sit in faith, I’d stand in fear. I’d start to sit then stand straight up. I’d stand straight up and then sit myself down. It was up and down, back and forth, but neither the sitting nor the standing brought me any peace. If I was standing, I thought I was disobedient and lacking in trust. If I was sitting, I felt I was drowning in fear and anger.

Talk about a season of uneasiness- I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt peaceful. I was angry and exhausted constantly, and I had officially clicked into survival mode. I wasn’t trying to win anymore. I was just trying to survive. I had nothing to give, and I felt even too tired to take. I just was. But then, as I was drowning (both mentally and figuratively), God intervened. He didn’t bring me out of the sinking boat, though. He didn’t rescue me from my situation, but He opened my eyes to what was actually happening in that boat. As it turns out, I had a few things very very wrong.

In my heart I believed that God was taking something from me. I believed it about this current season, and I believed it about what He had asked from me before. Though I would verbally say He asked, in my heart I was convinced He took. To me the asking was a mere formality, and I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Of course I believed I could say no, but I was sure He would keep asking until I caved. In my eyes, God was taking my independence, and that’s just how it was.

Wrong.

God reminded me one morning of His gentle, kind, and chivalrous character. He spoke to me the truth about how He asks and never takes, and He only asks for that which brings death so that He may give life in return. He brought to mind the verse in Isaiah 61 that displays the gracious intentions of His heart, that He will give us a crown for ashes, joy for mourning, and a garment of praise for a spirit of despair. God assured me that He will never take anything- He will only ask me to give Him my trash so He can give to me His treasure.

I have a choice, and He never asks me to make a bad one.

I was relieved to understand this aspect of who God is, but I still didn’t want to sit in that boat. I viewed God as an indifferent, relentless, downright mean taskmaster who didn’t much care about my heart but cared only that I become more holy. He was asking for my independence because He wanted me to be more like Jesus, and Jesus was dependent. This was about me being perfect, and God wasn’t going to rest until I was “better.” He didn’t care what it took, either. If I had to suffer immensely to reach the point where I’d let it go, that is what He would put me through.

Wrong.

I envisioned a blank, emotionless stare when I gazed into God’s eyes in that boat, and He tore that image to shreds. He reminded me of the times in the bible when He was moved by compassion for His people, expelling any possibility of being described as indifferent. Not only this, but He assured me that perfection is never His goal- relationship is. He doesn’t want me to learn dependence because that makes me a better Christian, but because it allows me to walk in closer fellowship with Him. He just wants to be with me, and He wants me to lean on Him. If I am relentlessly independent, I won’t.  

Those who are independent walk alone, but those who are dependent walk together; He wants to be together.

At this point, I was feeling pretty good about the revelation I had already received from God. I no longer thought He was taking from me, nor did I think He was ruthless. I felt lighter and more confident, but I still didn’t want to give up my independence wholeheartedly- I had yet to believe He was trustworthy. Though the countenance of God changed as He was looking at me in the boat, I still felt as if He was just sitting there looking at me. He was just watching me suffer. He cared about it, but He wasn’t going to stop it because I still had to learn. This was simply how it had to happen. I wouldn’t learn any other way.

Still wrong.

One morning as I was listening to God, He asked me what His name is. I’ve been reading a book about His variety of names, but I just answered with one of them: Jehovah. He responded to me with a list of His names and a list of who He is. He said He is Jehovah, the relational God; He is Jehovah-Tsaba, the warrior God; He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, a ferocious fighter; He is jealous, He wants all of me; He is Father; He is provider; He is protector. He isn’t sitting watching me drown. He is waiting for me to stop fighting so He can fight for me.

Once again, God was asking only so He could give. He asked for my stillness so that He could move. I pictured myself battling an army of people who had risen against me, and God was standing behind me waiting for me to fall back. He wasn’t waiting for me to give up the fight- He was waiting for me to tap Him in. I had misunderstood it all!

Learning to be dependent isn’t about simply not being independent. It’s not about me becoming something that I’m not. It’s actually about me becoming something that I am: a child; a daughter.  As I step back and become a daughter, I allow God to step forward and be who He is: my Father, my protector, my provider, my defender, my warrior, my shield, and my strength.  

Now as I sit in my metaphorical boat, before me I see a gentle, loving Father with eyes like flames of fire. He is jealous for me. He is strong and mighty, and He is anything but indifferent. I can feel His love for me so heavily, I wonder how the boat can withstand its weight. He is proud of me, I’m sure, though He knows I’m much less capable than I think I am. I see water beginning to flood inside, yet I feel safe. I’m not afraid. I sit down in faith, and I am filled with joy. He doesn’t even need to ask me this time, though hearing His voice brings peace to my soul. As soon as I sit, He stands.

He fights.

He wins.

He is Jehovah-Tsaba, the warrior God.

… … … …

I suppose there are some people who need to learn how to fight. Likewise, there are some who need to learn how to be fought for. I just happened to be the latter.  

“But Moses said to the people, ‘Do not be afraid; stand firm, and see the salvation of Jehovah, which He will accomplish for you today … Jehovah Himself will fight for you; you need only be still.” Exodus 14:13-14

Not Everything Happens For a Reason

Many people say everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe this one bit; that there is a reason, a purpose, for everything that happens. I think there are reasons things happen (he yelled because he was angry, she tripped because she wasn't looking, etc.) but I don’t believe these things happen for a reason. Instead, I believe that sometimes things just happen- we make bad choices, we make good choices, we are affected by both the good and bad choices of others- but that God can always make good out of whatever choices we, or others around us, make.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

God can make good out of any situation we face, even the most difficult ones. He will not let any of our suffering go to waste. Hold on to that when trying times come- I have been.

… … … ...

A couple of weeks ago I seriously injured my knee. After five days of walking on it hoping it would just “go away,” I conceded to visit a walk-in clinic and the doctor ordered me to stay on crutches for 2-6 weeks. For this independent, active, exercise-loving girl, that seemed like an eternity. Though I was relieved to know I wouldn't need surgery, I was discouraged by the length of time it could take to heal (not including the recovery time it’ll take once I am off the crutches). Physically I was in pain, but my heart was actually what hurt most.

I didn't care much about how terribly my knee felt, except that it reminded me of what I couldn't do. I didn't wince because of a sudden, sharp pain. I winced because in that moment I felt the sharpness of the thought, “I can’t run anymore.” (I know that may sound a little dramatic, but at 23 years old when you think you might be crippled in some fashion, I think it’s justified). I could handle my physical discomfort, but I couldn't bare the affliction of my soul. I couldn't run; I could barely walk. I definitely couldn't walk and talk because I had to think too hard about not tripping with the crutches. I couldn't work. I couldn't do much of anything for myself anymore, though that didn't stop me from trying. What could I do? Sit.

Oh and how I hate sitting.

Sitting felt lazy. It felt boring. It felt exhausting. Sitting felt like my worst nightmare. Maybe if I wasn't so prone to over-thinking every single thing, it might not have been so bad. Still bad, no doubt, but not so bad. Because I do over-think, however, I had to fight myself not to get stuck in the pit of “what ifs?” What if I can never run again?  What if it takes more than six weeks to heal? What if I have this problem the rest of my life? What if…?

These questions viciously antagonized my mind, but the promise of Romans 8:28 came to me and it was as if the “what ifs?” fell to the ground. And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. I was immediately encouraged and confident that God was in this with me and He would use this situation for my good. Instead of continuing to ask the “what if” questions, I simply asked, “what?” What did God want me to learn? What would He work for good in my life? What could I do to make sure this trial wasn't wasted? I was still asking questions, yes, but these were full of hope and promise, not fear and dread.

It wasn't long before God answered me and told me of His plans to work in my heart. Though I asked God for answers, I doubted what He said when I received them and blew it off as a “nice idea, but probably one that came from my own head.” It’s funny how quickly we can write off what God is saying to us, but thankfully He displays His patience and mercy in confirming and re-confirming what He told us, even when we doubt. So God made sure I knew what He said the first time was what He meant, and He was always creative about how it came up.

I couldn't deny any longer what God was saying, and I was assured He was going to use this injury for my good. “Okay God,” I thought. “You've got two weeks. Go for it.” I’m sure He chuckled at the fact that I was trying to give Him a timeline. He was on a mission, and He wasn't going to quit until it was completed.

Time went by as I was on my crutches, and I had much great conversation and revelation from God about a piece of my heart. As we talked, however, in the back of my mind I was counting down the days until the two-week mark, assuming I’d be free from the crutches by then. The day got closer, but unfortunately my knee wasn't getting better. Many friends prayed with me, asking that God would heal my knee, but no change ever came.

Though I wasn't healed on the spot, something happened each time my friends and mentors prayed for me: my entire body felt the “no, not right now,” of God’s response, but it also was filled with an overwhelming, calming peace. Even though I was hearing a “no,” it was comforting just to know He was there, He was listening, and He was with me in this- even if that didn't mean immediate healing.

Later on one night when I was alone I asked God straight up if He was going to heal me. He said yes, but when I asked, “Now?” He said no. He reminded me of what He was going after in my heart, and He assured me that He was persistent and meticulous. I knew He wasn’t going to quit, and I knew I didn’t want Him to.

I am certain God didn't afflict me with this injury, and I am certain He is going to use it for my good. I have already seen the ways in which the crutches force me to listen in ways I wouldn’t have before. Not only this, but they force me to sit when I normally wouldn’t, which provides many more opportunities for conversation between God and me. On the outside to some it can seem like God is withholding healing, which seems unloving and cruel, but I don’t see it that way at all. God didn’t do this for a reason, but He will use it for a reason.

He is not concerned with my comfort right now- He is concerned with something far greater. In my opinion, that’s the most loving thing He could do.

If you’re still tracking with me, this is what I really want to say to you: not everything happens for a reason. We experience painful circumstances God didn’t plan for us, I believe that. But I also believe God is faithful to us, and He will not let such trials go by without using it for our good. If we must suffer, He isn’t going to waste it. It may seem cruel or unjust that He won’t just pull us out of our pain (though sometimes He surely does), but God is most concerned with the eternal, not the temporal. He sees differently than we do, and when He sees an opportunity to bring healing through pain, He will. He is faithful.

God didn’t plan for me to injure my knee, but in His love and wisdom He has targeted a deep wound in my heart that I might have otherwise ignored. He wants me to be healed, but in more ways than one.

God will be faithful to heal my knee, I am sure of it, but along with a renewed knee I will have a renewed heart. That is certainly the goodness and faithfulness of my God.  

I Don't Read Romance Novels ... Except This One.

“Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” –Charles H. Spurgeon

It’s not uncommon for me to pick up a good book and practically cease living the rest of my life until I finish it. From beginning to end I am engrossed by the characters, the plot, the conflicts; and the rest of my life reflects that. If I’m reading a mystery novel, I’ll spend my days lurking around every corner in search of suspicious characters. If I’m reading an action story, I’ll spend my days punching, kicking, and karate-chopping the air as if I were in the midst of a battle myself.  I don’t just read books, you see, but I dive into them head first and live my life in the world of its pages. This past year I have visited a number of great books, but I was captivated most by the Bible.

In April of 2014, I began reading the Bible from page one. I don’t know what inspired me (likely the Holy Spirit), but I was determined to read the entire Bible from cover to cover. I thought it would be a long and arduous task, and I didn’t expect to be enthralled the same way I usually am by books. It turned out, however, that I was more fascinated by the Bible than I could even explain. I was hooked, and with every page I was convinced that it was the best story I had ever read.

By early December I had finished the entire book, and with it I had gained a new perspective and almost, it seemed, a new life. I had learned so much in those eight months that changed me- it was partly because I had begun to know the Bible, but it was mostly because I had begun to know God. Yes, it was beneficial to read the entirety of the story I grew up learning bits and pieces of, but what moved me most was the God I met in those pages. It seems too great of an undertaking to share every way in which God and His character stirred me as I read through the Bible, but I can’t keep myself from sharing just a few.

First things first: When you read the Bible like a book, from the first page to the last, you realize that it truly is a story. It’s not just any story, either- its’ a love story.

Growing up in the church, one becomes familiar with a myriad of different “Christianese” expressions. Phrases like sanctification, backsliding, and the holy trinity seem normal and appropriate in regular conversation. One of the more popular Christian-isms is referring to the Bible as a “love letter” or as God’s “love story.” I heard this one often, but never quite understood it. Never, that is, until I actually read it. The Bible is indeed a story, and each page is covered with God’s love.

Christians see Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross as a manifestation of God’s love for us. We believe, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that everyone who believes in Him would not perish, but would have eternal life” (John 3:16). I grew up hearing this. I grew up believing it. I didn’t grow up truly getting it. I did, in a sense, but I didn’t. I understood that Jesus gave His life to save the world, but I didn’t understand the world that Jesus gave His life for. I didn’t grasp the depravity or the wickedness that consumed the world. I didn’t know how continually God called His people back to Himself and they turned the other way. 

It wasn’t until I understood the iniquity of the world that I understood the love of God.

The crucifixion of Jesus becomes more powerful when you realize that He was coming to save a world of people that wanted to live without Him. They were people who betrayed, disobeyed, and replaced Him. Even His own people, the Israelites, lived their lives apart from Him. This was the world He came to die for.

“But God commends His own love to us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

Knowing such changes the way you view the crucifixion, though it is not only recognizing this truth but studying it for yourself that brings greater impact to the life and death of Christ. Understanding comes as you spend days and months reading the multitude of times God’s people turned away from Him. It comes as you read God’s kind response to His people in those moments, calling them back to Himself in love. It comes as you become disheartened yourself at the unwillingness of the world to change its ways and walk with God.  

Greater understanding of the hate inevitably brings greater understanding of the love.

I know I will spend the rest of my life uncovering new depths of God’s love (for it is so vast I shall never comprehend it entirely on this side of heaven), but the journey I took through the Bible opened my eyes immensely. Something amazing happened in my heart as I read 1,800 pages of betrayal and depravity and I, shocked and incredulous, could ask, “Even still, God? Still you loved and still you desired to save?” And He would remind me of the promise of Jesus and whisper, “Yes, even still.”   

Second things second: When you read a book like the Bible, from the first page to the last, you realize how abundant God’s patience and mercy must be, because you yourself become frustrated with its characters.

I remember clearly reading the book of Judges (the seventh book of the Bible). I recall where I was (on my living room floor), how long it took me to read it (one sitting), and which emotions the book provoked (anger and impatience).  Judges is a book all about Judges-go figure. Basically, it is written about a 300-year span of time when different judges were appointed to lead Israel. In this time, Israel continually disobeys God and then begs Him for deliverance when things go bad. This book felt to me like a nauseating roller coaster. Ironically, I couldn’t put the Bible down until I finished it, but I felt sick by the time I did.

So, like I said, this book made me feel impatient and angry. Let me summarize it for you: God tells the Israelites to do one thing, and instead they do another. God becomes angry in return, removes His protective hand from them, and they are delivered to their enemies and become slaves. The Israelites aren’t so fond of this new lifestyle, and they cry out to God to be rescued. God indeed saves them, charges them not to do what He commanded at first, and because they apparently didn’t learn their lesson the first time, the cycle starts all over again.

This happens so many times in the book of Judges that I lost count. I did, however, become so angry at one point that I verbally erupted, “Why can’t you just listen?! Seriously, are we going through this again?!” I couldn’t take it anymore, and part of me was irritated that God kept rescuing these people who kept going back to what they just apologized for. Just do what He says, I thought. Was it really that difficult?

And then I was humbled.

As angry as I was with the Israelites, I realize I do the same thing all the time. I lie, I idolize, I disobey, and when things start going badly because of it I cry to God asking for forgiveness and deliverance. Then, sadly, I’ll slip up in the same way a week later. Thankfully, just as God dealt with the Israelites, He deals with me: with incredible patience and mercy. It was in my time of reading this book that I got the greatest revelation of God’s character in regards to patience and mercy. As I reached my limit of patience with the Israelites, God’s seemed limitless. Though they continually stumbled, He continually rescued.

God is patient and full of mercy. Never before has the meaning of that been so evidently true to me.

I don’t know how to describe to you the glorious impact that reading the Bible cover-to-cover had on my life, but I can assure you it changed me tremendously. It even changed the way I thought about Christmas (which you can read about here). I could write for days about the things I learned and the ways in which I met the Lord, but I don’t want to. What I really want is for you to experience it. Don’t take my word for it that God is full of love, patience, and mercy. Open the book and read it for yourself. It’s all in there, I promise.  

I Don't Have What It Takes

“I don’t think I have what it takes,” I thought to myself. My doubts became stronger with each turn of the page as I read the inspiring story about an adventurous, self-sacrificing missionary in Uganda. I picked up the book to encourage and excite myself about the calling I thought was mine (just as I had done with the handful of missionary books I’d read before), yet fear and doubt had been consuming me instead. For years now I had been convinced being a missionary overseas was my future, my purpose, but suddenly I wasn't so sure.

I've always thought of mission work with enthusiasm and passion, eagerly anticipating the places I could go, the places I could work, and the people I could serve. I fantasized about bringing the gospel into villages and remote areas, and dreamt about the transformation Jesus could bring. I suppose I always thought about the good things, the happy things- the things that I loved.

Though they sometimes crossed my mind, the difficult aspects never seemed to penetrate the idealistic picture of mission work I had in my head. Even when I went to the Dominican Republic for three weeks in June, I easily embraced what I assumed to be the most difficult part of living in a third-world country: showering with a bucket and hosting incessantly dirty feet. I didn't care that I slept on the floor or ate plantains for every meal or had electricity only a couple hours out of the day. Heck, I didn't even care that the toilet was many times just a hole in the ground. In my heart was the desire to be a missionary overseas, and I wanted everything that came with it.

I just didn't realize what “everything” is.

I didn't think about the loneliness in being unable to communicate in another language. I didn't think about simple comforts like having twenty different types of bread to choose from or “vegging” out on TV after an exhausting day. I didn't think about missing family holidays. I didn't think. I didn't think. I didn't think.

Now, all of this thinking (or lack thereof) has seemed to cement a single thought in my mind: I’m not so sure I have what it takes.

Now more than ever I understand what it is like to be apart from my family: excruciating. Or what it is like to be amongst entirely new people: lonely. Or what it is like to serve others when the only thing I really want to do is be left alone to read a book: incredibly challenging. I now understand these things that have broken and tested my heart, and I am afraid that I will break under greater pressure- a pressure that inevitably awaits me on the mission field.

As I ponder these things I question my ability to ever be a missionary, and I realize I simply will never have what it takes. But that’s okay. It’s freeing, actually. I will never have the grace, courage, or unconditional love for others that being a missionary requires. I just won’t, I’m certain, but I don’t think that means I’m not meant to be one- it means I need Jesus.

To think I’d ever have what it takes in my own strength is, I believe, to think much too highly of myself and of God much too little. If I truly believe God is my strength and my peace, my grace and my all, then I ought to readily admit without Him I’d be powerless, restless, and graceless. Without Him, I’d be a terrible missionary.

I do believe God has gifted me with character traits that would complement a missionary lifestyle (i.e. the fact that I don’t mind sleeping on the floor or that I enjoy physical labor), but I am certain I could not do it without Him. Why? Because it is only God that can comfort a lonely heart who is apart from everyone they've ever loved. It is only He who can give the strength to wake up and serve another day when it is the last thing you want to do. It is only He who can make the impossible possible.

So no, I don’t believe I’ll ever have what it takes to be a missionary, but I do know I will always have God, and God will always be enough.

“Abide in Me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches. He who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.” John 15:4-5 (emphasis added). 

God Gives Great Gifts

By now it has become an obvious truth to me: God will surprise you when you least expect it. He has a way of making the ordinary extraordinary. Today as I began my journey home for Christmas, I expected nothing spectacular from my flight. God, however, had other plans.

Passengers were boarding the flight and I had already cozied myself up in seat 7A, trying to make the most of the overly-confined space I was allotted. I had my book out and my currently favorite song set on repeat. I was about to put my headphones in as the woman who occupied the seat next to me walked up. She was with her son and she seemed both surprised and worried to find the seat next to her already taken. 

She spoke aloud to her son about how they were supposed to be seated together. She noted her son's seat was also next to one that was already spoken for, so she couldn't just move up to where he was and claim the other seat. "But we were supposed to be together," she'd say, as if repeating this thought would help her find a solution. She spouted off her concerns in a way which conveyed that their sitting apart wouldn't be a good idea. 

"She's going to ask me to move," I thought.

It was selfish of me, but I hoped she wouldn't. I had no good reason for it either, except that I was already comfortable and I hate the aisle seat. Like I said, not exactly a good reason. Thankfully, the Spirit yanked me out of my self-centeredness, and rather than feel entitled I felt compassion. She was going to ask me to move- I knew it- and if she didn't I was going to offer it. Sure enough, she asked if I would mind switching seats with her son and I kindly obliged her request.

Really, it wasn't a big deal. I figured my routine would still be the same: put in my headphones and sleep during takeoff to avoid motion sickness, and then wake up thirty minutes later to read for the remainder of the flight. I'm not one to socialize much while traveling because I am so prone to motion sickness-it's all I can do to keep from getting sick.

Anyway, I walked over to my new seat and the man next to me offered a friendly "hello" as I got situated. I appreciated that he didn't ignore my existence as many airline passengers tend to do, and he seemed rather nice, so I decided to put off my isolation process for a moment. "Hi," I said. "Are you heading home for Christmas?" (I'm a great conversationalist, aren't I)? 

As it turned out, I never got around to shutting my eyes or putting my headphones in, and I wasn't the least bit disappointed or nauseated. Steve and I talked for the entirety of my nearly three-hour flight, and I was so blessed by it. I think he was, too. My airline friend was a father of three daughters, and he also happened to be a Christian. We spoke of many things such as life, family, school, the book I was reading, and most importantly, God. The conversation inspired me in so many ways, and I really can't do it justice but to say it left me feeling uplifted and rejuvenated. This seat, this conversation, and this man had certainly been a gift from God. 

I so enjoyed that God took what would've been a perfunctory flight and made it into a glorious, delightful present for His daughter. I couldn't help but notice, however, that He asked me to give first.

God does this, doesn't He? He asks us to give and to sacrifice, but He surely has joy to give in return. God asks of us, but always with a plan to give to us. If, though, in those moments we are stuck in our own world of selfishness, we can miss out on such beautiful gifts because we are too consumed with what we are asked to give up. 

I know this story is a silly illustration for this, but I believe the principle is still there. Sometimes God asks us to give up something much greater than the window seat on an airplane, but I believe He always has a purpose and that "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him," (Romans 8:28).

God will ask, but He will also give. He has wonderful opportunities and gifts for us, if only we are first willing to give. 

And let me tell you, God gives amazing gifts.