He reaps where He didn’t sow
As I live in the tension of the shrug, one of the things I’ve wrestled with in the past few years is the promises of protection and provision in the Bible.
Because God-fearing Christians are still sick and injured and quite often left-without. So I just don’t get it…
I mean… Why do we pray for the angels to have charge over us, when accidents still happen to angel-surrounded Believers all the time? I don’t know. And I’m not trying to start a theological debate here… just voicing my questions. Or rather my lack of answers.
I’ve wondered about the whole “no weapon formed against you shall prosper” thing. Because I’ve had a lot of weapons formed against me. And a lot of weapons have succeeded.
I’ve endured literal fires, floods, droughts, breakdowns, tornadoes, infidelity, divorce, and the closure of our ministry… So I’ve wrestled with what it means that these weapons formed against me won’t prosper, because they sure have seemed to…
The past few days as I’ve been pondering all this again, I had this thought:
Maybe it’s not that the weapons formed against me won’t succeed in hindering or destroying me… but that even if they do, they still won’t bear fruit.
The weapons may stop me or thwart what I’m doing or even slay me, but that doesn’t mean they will bear fruit in my life. Because God — as only He can do — reaches in and creates beauty from ashes, new life from death, joy from mourning.
God reaps even what He doesn’t plant. No matter what, He ultimately reaps a harvest for my good and His glory even from the weapons formed against me.
Remember the parable of the talents? Towards the end of that jam-packed short story, the servant who had been given one talent — and did nothing with it — got angry at the Master, accusing him of “harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed.” And the Master agreed.
Because that’s exactly what He does.
God reaps where He didn’t sow, and He gathers where He didn’t scatter seed.
He can take a crop of thorns, and harvest a crop of wheat.
He can take all of our pain, and still harvest abundant joy out of it.
He reaps everything good from a planting of everything bad.
“Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.
They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest.”
Psalm 126:5-6
God never wastes a thing.
Not even the weapons that succeed against us.
the tension of the shrug
I’ve gotta be honest: I’ve got more questions than answers.
I grew up in a Christianity that didn’t allow me to admit that. So for years I “had” all kinds of answers. But underneath them all was a shaky voice and a doubting heart and a lot of unverbalized questions…
And now?
Now I’m just allowing myself to embrace my questions more than I used to.
It’s frustrating — and maddening even, at times — because I wish I had answers. I crave sureties.
But building a faith on pretend answers is no better than acknowledging I have none at all.
It’s like trusting in sandcastles that disappear in the surf…
My only surety — my only certainty — is Christ.
And for everything else in between, it’s okay if I have to shrug and say “I don’t know.”
It’s hard to live in the tension of that shrug, but that’s where I find myself. And though it seems to go against everything within me, I know that just has to be okay.
I’m thankful for a God who meets me in the question marks.
For He alone is the only true and definitive answer.
Period.
How hard is it for you to not have all the answers?
grace enough
Have you seen People of the Second Chance’s NEVER BEYOND campaign?
It is powerful.
Each week, they launch a new poster in their NEVER BEYOND series, representing a well-known historical, current, or fictional character who is believed to have harmed society. They stand as challenging and sometimes startling reminders that none of us are ever beyond a second chance.
I’ve been forced to grapple with my tendency to be stingy with grace and to cling tightly to unforgiveness.
Because if I’m being most honest, there are some people I feel I can’t forgive.
And there are some I simply don’t want to forgive.
But maybe that’s just me…
Extending grace — to others as well as myself — doesn’t come naturally to me.
But maybe that’s just me too…
Although I have a feeling it’s true for all of us, in one way or another…
Since the NEVER BEYOND campaign started, I’ve had a nagging thought at the back of my mind. It sits there, gnawing and scratching, and I just can’t shake it. My thought?
September 11th.
Ugh.
My heart sinks even now, just writing out that date.
There are so many emotions, piling up, adding to the heavy weight in my heart…
I wish I was in New York with my family today…
I can’t help but play out the events over and over again in my mind… So awful and so horrifying…
I remember our family friend who died that day, as one of the first FDNY firemen on the scene…
I keep thinking of my friend who lost her brother-in-law in the Pentagon…
And how helpless and paralyzing it felt to be halfway around the world in Africa when it all happened…
But underneath it all, my heart is wrestling. With grace. Forgiveness. Second chances.
Because, you see, I have this unarticulated internal hierarchy of sins…
A hierarchy which says Osama bin Laden and the terrorists behind the September 11th attacks are worse than me.
They are, right?
They have to be!
But then I remember all the ways I’ve sinned just today, just since I opened my eyes this morning. And I remember that, like Paul, I’m the chief of sinners.
I am.
I have more in common with the Osamas of the world than I’d like to admit, but the truth is undeniable: I need grace no less than they do, and I deserve it no more than they do.
There is no hierarchy of sin in God’s mind. Sin is sin, plain and simple. And He paid the price for it, once and for all.
If there isn’t enough grace for Osama, there isn’t enough grace for me.
Because there are no two sides to grace.
It is never deserved, but always needed.
By all of us. No matter what.
That’s what makes it so scandalous, so amazing.
So today, on one of the hardest of days, I am choosing to be generous with grace.
Because grace was generous with me.
life isn’t fair
Life isn’t fair.
As much we might bemoan that fact, we really don’t want it to be fair, do we?
We only want fair when it would be to our benefit.
When we would stand to gain. Or get even. Or get what we think we deserve.
Until we realize that what we deserve? Is nothing.
That’s what’s fair.
What’s fair is that I get nothing.
Have nothing.
Be nothing.
Do nothing.
I. Deserve. Nothing.
So, having air to breathe? That’s not fair.
Waking up in the morning? Not fair.
Being loved? Not fair.
The cross? Grace? Second, third, and eleventy-second chances? Definitely not fair.
Life isn’t fair.
And for that I am beyond grateful.
grace runs
“Avoid the appearance of evil.”
We’ve all heard it said before.
And while it comes from the Bible, I think we may have warped its original intended meaning. More often than not, I’ve seen it used as a weapon of divisiveness and judgment and condemnation…
Read the rest of my post over at
Deeper Story
my now and my not yet
Lately, I just keep thinking about the phrase “the now and the not yet”.
For some reason, I thought it was in the Bible. But despite all my Googling and Bible-Gateway-ing, I came up empty-handed. Apparently it’s not directly in Scripture.
Waddayaknow!
That’s okay. It’s still renting a room in my head for a reason…
The now and the not yet.
I’ve been in a long season of transition.
Change.
Limbo.
Still trying to figure out what’s next and — now more than ever — learning to trust in the in-between.
Because I can’t really trust God with and for whatever’s next if I’m not trusting Him now—in my raw, unpolished, uncertain in-between.
I fool myself into believing I can trust Him with my tomorrow, but not my today. My eternity, but not my present. My not yet, but not my now.
But I can’t.
Trusting the God who was and is and is to come, means trusting that He fully holds who I was and am and will be.
Past, present, and future are in His hands. And I can’t trust Him with one and not another.
If I am His, I must be wholly His.
If I trust Him, I must wholly trust Him.
I need to learn to trust God in my now, in order to fully trust Him with my not yet.
Because trusting God means trusting His timing.
Even when I don’t understand it. Maybe especially when I don’t understand it.
So once again, I find myself praying…
Lord, I believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.
And the real, honest cry of my heart:
Lord, I trust. Help me overcome my distrust.
besides Jesus…
…Who could you say this to?
Why?
a force to be reckoned with
Words really do change the world.
Words, in fact, are what created the world. God didn’t just think it all into existence. He spoke it. “Let there be…” And there was.
And as creatives fashioned in His image, our words have that same creative power.
Our words are a force to be reckoned with.
Words spoken, written, sung, signed…
History recounts example after example of words changing culture, popular thought, belief systems…
Martin Luther and Martin Luther King Jr. come to mind.
So do Nelson Mandela, Bono, and Joshua of Old Testament fame.
Words change the world by changing hearts.
Those amazing communicators who shaped history (as well as the future) did so by finding new and innovative ways to put words to their thoughts. And in doing so, they connected with people’s hearts.
Hearts changed.
Communities changed.
Cultures changed.
The world changed.
I’m not naive enough to think I am destined to change the world. I’m not foolish enough even to think that I could. Or should. But this much I know is true:
I want my words to change hearts.
The ripple effect that hopefully occurs after that, isn’t up to me. It’s only mine to skip the stone…
When I think about the kinds of words it takes to truly influence positive change in people’s hearts, I see some recurring themes…
Truth.
Vulnerability.
Passion.
Love.
Humility.
Wisdom.
Authenticity.
So those have become my goals.
I strive to communicate my heart with truth, vulnerability, passion, love, humility, wisdom, and authenticity.
And if mine is the only heart to be changed in that pursuit, perhaps that is all the world-change I need.
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Today’s post is part of an intentional conversation about “Communication That Changes the World.” Join the convo. Write a post, tweet about it using the hashtag #SpeakForAChange, and come back to link your post below.
even when i deserve stoning…
I keep thinking about the adulterous woman who was dragged before Jesus. Mainly because I can’t help but see myself in her.
The crowd was ready to stone her for her sin, for her failure. And then Jesus spoke. He looked the mob straight in the eye and actually challenged them to go through with it. Under one condition.
He called for the one without sin to throw the first stone.
I can only imagine the shift that instantly took place within the crowd. They knew they were just as sinful as the woman was. They were well aware of how stoning-worthy their own hearts were.
So one by one, the crowd slowly turned and walked away.
All of them.
Until Jesus was the only one left with the woman. Perfectly fitting with what He’d said… “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” He alone was sinless. He alone had the right to judge.
Yet the One without sin cast no stones.
Instead He barraged her with grace.
Just like He still does with me.
It doesn’t matter how many accusations are hurled at me. Or how many I throw at myself. It doesn’t matter how far I’ve run, how deeply I’ve messed up, how ashamed I feel.
He casts no stones. No judgment. No condemnation. All He casts is love.
Every single time.
[Originally posted at Deeper Story...]
beauty
I find it in painted sunset skies and majestic mountains. I recognize it in the joy-filled eyes of the poor. I discover it in the authentic sharing of hearts.
I see beauty all around me. But I can’t see it in the mirror.
My self-image—that picture inside my heart of how I view myself—has long been distorted from a lifetime of feeling not enough. No matter how hard I try, being good/smart/funny/pretty enough has always felt far beyond my reach.
Looking back over the past few years, I can see, as if in slow motion, how that belief was reinforced even more.
My husband’s 18-month affair with my friend shouted that I wasn’t desirable enough. When he left me after ten years of marriage, I heard that I’m worth leaving more than I’m worth fighting for. And when he told me on his way out that he didn’t love me and probably never did, it reiterated that I’m not valuable enough to be loved.
The fragile remains of that picture in my heart loudly shattered into a million pieces.
I am not enough.
Slowly God has been restoring my heart and, with it, the picture I have of myself.
I know He wants me to see myself as beautiful, but the reality is, it remains a daily struggle for me.
Like Alabama in the aftermath of its tornado, all I see in my reflection is the broken, messy, ugly devastation of my life. And I can’t help but question how there can be beauty in all this rubble.
God responds by lovingly and gently showing me.
As I hear from people who’ve found hope and strength from hearing my story, I get glimpses of the ways He’s making life out of my brokenness.
But I know God doesn’t only want me to see the beauty in how He’s using me. He wants me to see the beauty that’s in me.
If I’m being most honest, that part is probably going to take a while. Possibly a very long while.
I know a healthy self-image will come solely from staring long and hard into Jesus’ face. I catch my true reflection only when I see myself in His eyes.
It’s there I see that I am enough because He is enough.
It’s there I see that I am desired, valued, and fought for.
It’s there I see that He recklessly loves the beautiful mess that is me.
[Originally posted at Deeper Story.]
