God is awake
What does your heart hear
in this statement?
would you rather…
…have a housekeeper or a cook?
it’s unavoidable
I’ve always loved the story of the woman with the issue of blood. It vividly reminds me that God is passionate about healing my heart and not just my body.
Reading through that passage in Mark again recently, I noticed something new. Or rather, I saw something familiar in a completely different way.
The woman pressed through the crowd on her hands and knees to get to Jesus. She reached out and grabbed the hem of His garment, and in that moment she was instantly healed.
And in that moment, Jesus felt power go out of Him.
That’s what made Him stop and look for the one who touched Him. That’s what prompted the dialogue that brought healing to her heart. That’s when He looked her in the eyes and called her “Daughter”.
I’d never thought too much about that moment for Jesus, until now.
There He was… Walking with a synagogue ruler as a large crowd pressed all around Him… It was noisy and busy and… Suddenly He felt something…
He felt power go out of Him as soon as she touched Him.
It’s unavoidable: Ministry is draining.
If Jesus felt the effects of it, I sure as heck will.
Serving others, speaking God’s truth, and sharing our lives, tires us out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. We feel it when we spend ourselves for others.
Even when we are doing what we love.
Maybe even more so when we are doing what we love. Because then we have to force ourselves to take a break.
At least I do.
I’ve been going non-stop for months now—doing exactly what I love doing. And I’ve felt the “power” go out of me in every way possible. I’m exhausted inside and out. So I’m taking some much-needed time off.
My heart is so looking forward to this selah.
I need to start paying more attention to what (and who) drains me, as well as what (and who) refuels me. I need to be more intentional about creating margin in my schedule and my life.
I want to be more proactive about letting Him fill me up than I am about sharing Him with others.
Maybe that sounds backwards or selfish. I just know that when I’m not overflowing, I really don’t have much to give anyway.
So I’m taking some time for me. (Which, I should point out, is never an easy thing for me to do.)
But I know it’s needed. And I know it’s right.
Selah, friends. Selah.
What does “selah” look like to your heart?
What and who refuels you?
being held
You know what I miss?
Being held.
I’m not the most physically affectionate person. Well, I am with certain people… which I guess makes me selectively affectionate.
But there are moments, days even, when I just wish there was someone to hold me. To tangle up with me on the couch as we watch a movie. To sit near to me so at least some part of us is touching. To hug me long and tight, for no reason at all.
Longing for that makes me feel vulnerable.
Admitting it makes me feel even more vulnerable.
And I don’t fully know why.
But, well, there it is.
No spiritual analogy. No lesson from the Lord. No correlating scripture.
Just the missing of my heart.
What’s your deepest, most honest, miss?
my broken cisterns
My sin takes on a variety of shapes, but all of it basically boils down to two things… the same two things the people of Israel continually struggled with—
I sin by not trusting God.
I forsake Him. I deny not only His power, but His heart. I turn away, shift my gaze, seek other things. I make an after-thought of the One who should be my first priority. I question if He really has my good in mind. I lose sight of who He is by focusing on what He can do for me (or on what He doesn’t seem to be doing for me). I try to find life apart from Him.
I sin by trusting myself instead.
I dig my own wells, even though they are insufficient and faulty. I live as though I can do a better job of protecting my heart, fixing my situation, and meeting my needs than God can. I surrender, but take it back again. I attempt to control which way I should go and how quickly I should get there. I take matters into my own hands. I try to find life on my own.
When I dig my own wells, I always come up thirsty.
The water keeps rushing out through the cracked walls, leaving me dry and empty.
The bitter taste of self-sufficiency doesn’t satisfy, yet I’m left craving more. I drink and drink and drink, but feel more parched with each sip.
He alone is the spring of Living Water. And trying to save up for a dry day is just my own feeble attempt to work things out on my own.
It’s time to abandon my broken cisterns and drink deeply from the life-giving spring of His heart…
He is more than enough for me.
the God of Gideon
“Go in the strength you have…”
That’s what God told Gideon. And that’s what He tells me.
Every single day.
He doesn’t tell me to muster up more strength. He doesn’t pat me on the back and say, “Good luck with that!” And He doesn’t say I should just buck it up and keep going.
He says He’s given me exactly enough strength for exactly what my day holds. No matter what.
I have everything I need to face today.
So here I go.
Are you coming?
four-minute friday: light and fluffy
Go.
I wanted to four-minute about something light and fluffy. Mostly because I’m wiped out and don’t have energy for anything of substance. Besides, it’s Friday! We can all do with some extra light and fluffy in our day.
But all I keep hearing in my head is the little girl on “Despicable Me”: “It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!”
Have you seen it yet? It’s cute. And 3-D. And that whole fluffy-unicorn bit is hilarious. Seriously. Watch the clip. You’ll find yourself repeating “It’s so fluffy!” in that creepy funny voice of hers.
Cracks me up every single time!
Anyway… Clearly in need of blogging assistance, I sent out a tweet asking for light and fluffy post ideas. What did I get back?
Marshmallows. Angel food cake. Cotton candy. Whip cream.
Y’all are one hungry bunch. You fit right in around here! Ha.
So now we ended up with four minutes of basically nothing. Just like how cotton candy melts away into nothingness in your mouth. Minus the sugar high.
Oh geez. This is going downhill fast.
Calling it quits. And calling on you to tell me something light and fluffy…
Ready? Go!
Done.
it’s time for a check-up
Isn’t it crazy to think that 2010 is more than half over? Seven months gone; only five months left. Time to take stock. Focus. Realign as needed.
I wonder how many of you have been working toward your one-word goal.
Actually, I wonder how many of you even remember your one-word goal.
(Go back to the comments here and here if you need a reminder…)
Mine is risk.
In all honesty and fairness, while I’ve tried to stay focused on risking more this year, there are entire days weeks that go by when I don’t even think about it.
I don’t usually wake up wanting to risk that day. This isn’t one of those things that gets easier the more you do it. Every single time is hard.
But still… I continue to challenge myself to risk.
When faced with a decision or a situation, I can’t help but think… RISK! It has caused me to do things like have hard conversations, spend time with challenging people, do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do, hit publish on especially-vulnerable blog posts.
I should be keeping a “risk list” somewhere… because sitting here now, I’m having a hard time thinking of all the specific ways I’ve risked. Even though I know have. I blame it on my Fuzzy Brain Syndrome. So, starting right now… I’m keeping a “risk list.” Somebody ask me in a couple weeks to make sure I’m still doing it, k?
What about you?
Are you still focusing on your… focus? Are you regularly doing what you set out to do with your one-word goal?
Maybe you weren’t around The Grit in January and didn’t pick a word for your year. It’s not too late to start. Choose a single word to focus on for the remaining five months of 2010.
Let’s finish this year with intentionality.
it all comes down to this
I’ve gotta be honest. I was blown away by how many of you related with my friendship insecurities. Isn’t it crazy how alone we can feel in certain things, only to discover we are all more alike than different?
As I kept thinking about it all, I realized something.
Relationships are stewardships.
They are gifts. Loans, really…
I am given them to safeguard. To nurture. To cherish.
And while I am responsible for how I handle my relationships, they are not mine to keep or control. More importantly, the people in my life are not mine to keep or control.
Ever.
When I hold a person too tightly, I begin to squeeze the life out of them and our friendship.
Just like everything else I’m entrusted with, I am called to hold my relationships loosely.
I don’t mean carelessly, or with lack of regard. I mean with an open hand rather than a tight fist.
I mean living in the awareness that none of this begins or ends with me.
We are all His. And the relationships I have are because He has orchestrated them. I want to love my friends like I know that to be true.
So going toe-to-toe with my insecurity isn’t so much about trusting others more.
It’s about trusting Him more.
i’m that insecure
I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one who struggles with this—or maybe it’s just that I hope I’m not—so I figured I’d blog it out. Fingers crossed that many of you someone can relate.
I love networking. Although, honestly, I hate that word. Sounds so business-y. And professional. So let me rephrase.
I love connecting people with other like-hearted people.
I’m energized seeing new friendships and ministry partnerships flourish. It’s incredible to watch those I love, value, and enjoy get to know others I love, value, and enjoy. There’s something wildly exciting about it.
But, at times, there’s also something very scary about it.
If I’m being most honest, I often feel threatened when I introduce friends to each other.
I think immature, stupid things like,
“I hate feeling left out…”
“She’s probably gonna end up liking her more than she likes me.”
“What if they get really close and cut me out entirely?”
Yes. I’m that insecure.
Without even being conscious of it, it causes a flare-up of fear somewhere deep inside me: I’m easily replaceable. I’m more leavable than lovable. I’m not enough.
I don’t really know how to combat that except to continue to connect people anyway. What do I always say? I do it afraid? Yeah, I guess that applies here. I do it afraid.
But I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
I don’t want to live shackled to that insecurity. I want to walk confidently and securely, rooted in who I am. Or rather, rooted in who He is.
So I’m working on renewing my mind and replacing the lies with His truth. And with the power of public confession, I’m exposing the darkness in my heart, letting His light illuminate and transform it in the way only He can.
And now the hard part of real change begins.
Because saying “I’m working on it” isn’t enough. I’ve got to actually do something about it.
Gulp.
