How Much Food is Enough?

Who knew I could actually survive a week without dark chocolate? My go to snack in the middle of the morning, afternoon and night has become a handful of mixed nuts, not quite as savory, but it staves off the hunger when one feels munchy.

But, let me back up a bit. It’s my first week participating in the study by Jen Hatmaker, The 7 Experiment, Staging Your Own Mutiny Against Excess. As students we are challenged to do in 7 weeks what she and her husband spent 7 months doing, a week on each area of excess: food, clothes, spending, waste, possessions, media and stress. I can’t even imagine a month of fasting in each area. The truth is that as American Christians we have way more than we need and yet still want more. While many die of hunger, we are growing obese. While many have little to wear, our closets are bursting. It’s not okay that 1.5 million children die from hunger each year, and 20,864 people will die from hunger today when we have more than enough food for everyone on the planet. (www.statisticbrain.com/world-hunger-statistics/)

And, lest you think this study is some sort of guilt trip encouraging one to go and sell everything, let me assure you it’s not. I can’t help that I was born in America, the land of plenty, but I can use the resources with which I’ve been blessed to make a difference. Jen encourages us to be open to however God would desire us to act as a result of fasting. She advises us not to become legalistic and compare our degrees of fasting with one another to see if we come up short or ahead. Fasting looks different for everyone; God will move in each person’s life in unique ways. The point is to just do it, focusing on our own hearts.

If you think about it, our lifestyles revolve around food. When we complete one meal, we begin pondering when and what the next will be. Visiting the grocery store is often a multi-weekly occasion. Endless aisles of food offer a plethora of choices, most of them not super-de-dooper healthy. Events, parties, outings revolve around eating. We often search for something quick to microwave before we run our children to soccer, basketball or gymnastics practice. Our kids snack on granola bars, fruit snacks and pop tarts (at least my children do).  Our snack choices aren’t much better. It’s much easier to grab a bar than cut fruit and vegetables.

In the original 7 fast, the Hatmakers chose 7 foods to eat for one month. Can anyone say coffee and chocolate?! Ok, so one should pick healthy foods. However, Jen offers a variety of other ways to fast, so I chose to abstain from fast food and unprocessed foods for a week. It’s day 6, and I’m still alive. Have you ever thought about how much canned, boxed, frozen food we consume? When I look in the refrigerator and cupboards and start checking off items I can’t devour, I’m flabbergasted. No soup, mac n cheese, processed meat, or cereal. No popcorn, chips, chocolate, granola bars or ice cream. Out of over 300 items in my kitchen, clearly excessive, I’ve resorted to the basics of God’s creation: fruit, veggies, chicken. Simple, yet hard. Healthy, yet time consuming.

What I have learned:

Our family eats a lot of crap. My youngest asked if kids in third world countries eat a lot of processed food. Gee, I think not, I told her. They don’t even have enough real food, much less the junk that lines our grocery store shelves. While I don’t have statistics to prove it, that’s my guess.

I can make healthier meals. For the most part, I’ve tried to provide a balanced diet. Still, I’m so guilty for resorting to the quick fixes when my brain tires of planning vitamin packed meals displaying all the colors. Cooking is something I do out of necessity and duty instead of love, so the less time in the kitchen, the happier I am. Give me a bowl of Captain Crunch or Cocoa Puffs for dinner, and life is good. The family, however, is not so appreciative of that wimpy attempt at a meal. This week, I researched recipes not involving cans, boxes or mixes and came up with Garlic Spinach and Italian Kale. Broil some chicken breasts flavored with salt and garlic pepper only and cut up a mixture of fruit and voila, a tasty meal.

I don’t need over 300 food items in my kitchen. I have this thing about certain food items. I must never ever be depleted of mayonnaise, eggs, milk or chocolate milk. When I grocery shop, I buy more just.in.case. At one time, I had 3 mayonnaise jars waiting in the wings. Ridiculous, right? I didn’t even grow up in poverty, so what sort of insecurity is this? Don’t even get me going about my couponing and buying a bajillion boxes of fruit snacks because they are on sale and I have coupons! Doesn’t make much sense when we’ve down-sized to one child at home. My husband and I don’t even eat those things ‘cause they’re not ‘healthy’.

Around the world, people are still hungry, but I can do something about it. Living in America makes me feel far removed from those hungering in third world countries. Since they aren’t right in front of me, I live in my four walls oblivious to the need. Yet, there is a way we can all help through an organization called www.kiva.org. A microlending institution, it offers loans through people like you and me to groups and individuals all over the world to help them start- up businesses so they can provide food for their families. These loans have a high percentage rate of repayment and the money can then be recycled to another person or group in need. This is a fabulous way to help those who can’t find the capital to support themselves or their families. If I lowered my grocery bill by a mere $25 and loaned that money to someone on the Kiva website, I could impact a child’s future. A person’s life could be transformed by my actions to reduce excessiveness. What a sobering thought!

Here’s your challenge: count the boxes, cans, mixes and bags of stuff filling your shelves. I stopped counting at 300 because it was already just ridiculous. Be utterly amazed at your tally. Pray about doing some type of fast. Most certainly pray about how God might want you to help locally or through an organization like Kiva. But, do something!

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was

thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was

a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes

and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after

me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Matthew 25:35-36

Growing in Generosity

Being generous is not always easy, but this year I am being challenged to become more giving in a variety of ways. So often, generosity is associated with money, but it’s much more than that. We can offer more of our time, be gracious in relationships, or sacrifice our desires for the sake of someone else.

I first grasped this thing called “generosity” when was in elementary school, about 100 years ago, with an experience that is engraved on my mind forever. My mom was the leader of a group called Campfire Girls which is similar to Girl Scouts. On this particular day, our group had visited the elderly in a local nursing home. Each girl was paired up with another person with whom we exchanged gifts. My sweet lady gave me an Uno candy bar, so wildly popular it’s no longer in existence today. As we were dropping girls off at their homes in our white hippy van, this chocolate marshmallow bar called my name repeatedly asking me to partake. Mom ordered me not to open it in front of everyone else unless I was prepared to share.

The temptation was too great; I ignored her instructions, unwrapped it and bit off a morsel. Mom immediately pulled the van over to the side of the road and demanded that I exit and walk. Shocked, I stumbled out and watched as she drove AWAY. Can you even believe it?! I should’ve recalled her knack for follow through! Ambling aimlessly, I hoped she’d return to give me a ride home. Eternity stretched out giving me time to ponder my disrespect, my lack of generosity. When the van returned, it was empty except for Mom

If she lectured me, I don’t recollect. It doesn’t really matter, because I will never forget the lesson etched on my heart about the importance of sharing with others. And, she believed it was so important that leaving me on the side of the road to ponder my actions was insignificant compared to me thinking of those less fortunate—even when it involves sharing a silly candy bar.

Think about how you can be generous, even when it seems insignificant, with your family, friends, the grocery store clerk, the waitress, or the Starbucks coffee server. Offering a kind word, the last bite, a bigger tip, a bit of understanding for a hard day, a gentle response can go a long way and just may change someone’s day!

A Fit of Love

Who knew a 6^th grader could still throw fits the magnitude of Hurricane Katrina? Just because I told her it was time for bed? I sat in amazement, dumbfounded, as my daughter contorted her body like a pretzel and screamed like a wild Banshee. What does one do in moments like this? I began meting out consequences with every refusal.

“Ok, you’ve just lost dessert until Friday,” I stated. A blood-curdling scream ensued accompanied by more writhing.”  

“Nooooo!” she shrieked uncontrollably.

“You’ve just lost play time with Hailey on Tuesday,” I calmly stated. Maddie threw her body off the couch as if I’d hit her with a ton of bricks, continuing to cry and holler.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this? Why don’t you just head to bed, so you don’t face anymore consequences?”

Completely unreasonable and uncooperative, Maddie incurred two more nights of “early to bed” before daddy stepped in, picked up the wild child, carried her to bed and slammed the door. Now we had to endure agonizing cries from behind the bedroom door.

Hubby and I sat in stunned silence in the living room wondering ‘what just happened?’ Who pulled the pin on the grenade that just blew up on us? Maddie’s explosive reaction created a domino effect that infused us all with anger.

We calmly discussed what advice Kevin Leman might give us and whether anyone might be in the market to buy a child who sometimes acts like a wild animal. We then debated how quickly we could get plane tickets to Timbuktu. In the end, we walked with some authority and sternness into the girl’s room and ordered her to get to bed now.

Bedtime cuddles were short and definitely not sweet. With a brief prayer and a matter-of-fact ‘I love you,’ I prepared to escape as quickly as possible. Maddie clung to me and whined, “Howwwww?”

“I love you,” I stated.

“Howwww?” she cried again.

“How, what?”

“How can you love me?” she pleaded.

Ahhhh, this is what it boils down to, isn’t it? How can someone love us when we’ve disappointed and disobeyed so horribly? When we’ve thrown ourselves on the floor, kicking and screaming like a two year old, OR a 6^th grader? Compassion and love poured out to my sweet girl who wonders if she is still loved after all these despicable acts.

“Do you know how God still loves us even when we make mistakes and fail?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s the same with mommy and daddy. We love you even when you disobey and don’t do the right thing. Tomorrow, we get to start over. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Maddie.”

“I love you, too, mommy.”

And so, God reminds me of His incredible, abounding, unconditional love through this fit-throwing girl who stomps her feet and wants her way like I do so many times. And, I wonder too. HOW? How can God possibly love me when I demand my way, disobey His word, and disappoint Him so frequently? And, yet, He does! For that, I’m eternally grateful.

“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Ephesians 3:17b-19)

A Dangerous Little Pest

Envy lurks at my door.  Just when I think I’ve moved past its grip, I visit a friend’s palatial home, admire shoes beyond my budget or gaze longingly at a piece of jewelry completely out of my price range. Young and old experience the reach of jealousy’s jaws even though the price and type of toys we long for changes. Why can’t we be satisfied with God’s gifts? What causes us to want increasingly more including those things others’ own? 

This problem with envy is as old as time itself.  Characters in Scripture, Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, and David and Saul struggled with envy. King Solomon accurately stated there is nothing new under the sun.  Cain’s envy caused him to kill his brother because of a sacrifice; Esau’s jealousy over Jacob stealing his birthright caused him to also consider murder.  Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery because of a colorful coat and his father’s favoritism.  Saul sought to kill David after hearing the people shout, “Saul has slain his thousands, David his ten thousands.”  He eyed him with envy from that day forward. 

While I haven’t descended so far as to attempt murder, I have regarded others’ luxuries with eyes of jealousy. My focus isn’t always material possessions either.  While not immune to envying items such as homes, boats, cars and clothes, I more frequently wistfully regard spiritual things like other women’s giftedness, areas of service or places of ministry.  Gee Lord, I wish I could sing like her.  Why didn’t I get asked to teach?  Why can’t I lead that group?  This truth hits so many of us who serve in the church.  We desire other’s gifts and areas of ministry in which God has blessed them. 

As I confess my envy of other’s accomplishments, I take the sting out of its affect on my life.  If Saul would’ve repented of his envy over David’s prowess in battle, think of what accomplishments Saul and David could’ve achieved together.   How much greater could the Kingdom of Israel have been if Saul had focused on making God’s name more famous than his own? If Saul had encouraged and promoted David in his battles on behalf of Israel, might he have benefited as well? The fear that plagued Saul pesters me as well. God, will there be fewer gifts for me since you dumped all these blessings on them?  Why do we think God’s resources have limits?  Scripture says our God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. (Psalm 50:10)   

Satan uses my envy to distract me from the life God has called me to live.  If I’m consumed with comparing my gifts with others, wondering why they seem more blessed than me, complaining to my Creator about the unfairness of his gift-giving, I am opting out of the place where God desires me to minister.  No one else can fulfill the calling on my life but me.  If I want to be someone else, who will be me?  I must quit comparing my life and my gifts with my friends’ lives and gifts and live for One who made me and gave me a specific purpose to carry out.  I should encourage others in their gifts so they can also fulfill God’s purpose in their lives.

Perhaps as I am faithful to exercise the gifts with which God has blessed me, working diligently in the place God has called me, He can entrust me with more. When I am careless and bury my talent like the man in Matthew 25, even what I have been given will be removed.

Father, 

May I be grateful for the gifts with which you have blessed me. Help me to keep from the sin of either spurning or burying what you have so graciously given. May I realize that if I do not use my gifts, the work to which you have called me will not be done. Keep me from looking to my left or right, the sin of comparison. I desire to focus my eyes on You, the abundant Giver of all good and perfect gifts.

Ready for Something New!

There’s something exciting about the word “new”, don’t you think? We love to shop for a new outfit, get a fresh pedicure, sit for a makeover, and purchase new pillows or pictures for our homes. After a sleepless night, who doesn’t want to begin anew? What drought affected and deer decimated garden doesn’t crave replanting? Who knew those beautiful creatures could destroy a zucchini plant in one night of feasting? From the latest vacation to the purchase of school supplies, we love new things.

If we aren’t careful, however, we can get caught up in obtaining the latest new-fangled contraption. Some of us find ourselves in debt because of our impulsive need for the new. This dangerous trap is the primary reason I avoid the mall. If I don’t go, I don’t see the latest Vera bag, iPod or Target tee. Who hasn’t visited Target for a handful of items and exited with a cartful?  

Perhaps it’s healthy for us to cling to the word “renew”—to make new again. Some have perfected the art of creating new from old in the physical realm. They transform worn-out furniture into beautiful pieces, or repair and repaint a car from the 50’s, or remodel a dingy home into something amazing. Our fascination with this type of creativity is evident in the plethora of shows broadcast into our living rooms each day. Something deep within us resonates with the old being transformed into something not only usable but also beautiful.  

The Master Creator planted this desire for newness inside of us. Our hearts and minds are corrupted without God renewing them. Too often we rely on our own willpower and strength to invoke virtuous thoughts and upright behavior. Yet, all our human effort can’t accomplish this task. Isaiah 64:6 states that all our righteous acts are like filthy rags. Thus, I can stake no hope in my own dogged determination to do or be good. And, even if I can outwardly appear charming, kind and benevolent, my heart may be loaded with bitterness, anger and envy. Scripture points me to Jesus as my only hope for renewal. He who spoke the world into existence from chaos is the only one who can restore and refresh my infected heart and mind.

So I pray, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10) Then I reflect on His word.

            “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (2 Corinthians 4:16)

            “who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” (Psalm 103:5)

            “but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

Later this week, when my family departs for vacation, I will recall this to mind. While I rest, relax and renew physically, I remember that true heart and mind renewal comes via my God. He makes my spirit new every single day as I tap into His never-ending supply.

            “Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca (tears or weeping), they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.” (Psalm 84:4-7)

A Grateful Heart

“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances or this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (I Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Over a year ago, I began a gift list sparked by reading Ann Voscamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts. Cataloging God’s blessings in my life commenced a journey of awareness. It was easy to fill up a page or two…hubby, children, friends, home—you know what I mean. Eventually, I ran out of ideas and that’s when I had to dig deeper. I opened my eyes a bit wider to everything around me—scanning the horizon for evidences of God working. Looking below the surface meant delving into areas in which finding anything good is a challenge. What good is there in pain and suffering or divorce and disease? Yet, God does ask me to give thanks “in” all circumstances.

My journey thus far has taken me to number 908 gifts:

881.     Alix graduating from high school with honors.

882.    Enjoying time with my parents.

883.    Savoring yummy Amish cooking.

884.    Car trips playing “Categories” naming every candy bar in the world.

885.    Preparing a graduation party with mom and my future daughter-in-law.

886.    Leisurely mornings and great conversations with mom.

887.    Lots of coffee and chocolate.

888.    Playing dozens of games of cards with the family.

889.    Strolling through shops in Nashville, Indiana.

890.    God’s grace in giving me amazing parents.

891.     Tough conversations that end in prayer.

892.    Barn swallows protecting their babies until they fly.

893.    Mommies and daddies protecting their babies until they leave the home nest.

894.    Bowing the knee desperate for God’s guidance and discernment.

895.    Husband who loves his wife well.

896.    A godly, gentle father who loves me unconditionally.

897.    Chatting with the best brother ever on Father’s Day.

898.    An amazing father and stepfather.

899.    Internship opportunity for Nick with his stepdad.

900.    Kids in VBX reminded that heaven is their true home.

901.     Soaking in sun and precious friends at the pool.

902.    Reading with Maddie.

903.    Spontaneous discussions with Alix.

904.    A son who works hard and expends every last ounce of energy.

905.    A focused hubby studying diligently for his upcoming test.

906.    A growing garden

907.    Praying through a horrific headache.

908.    God’s mercies, new every single day! 

Gratitude brings joy as I focus my thoughts on all the ways God has blessed me, even in the painful parts of my journey. For when I ask the question, “What is the good in this tough situation I am facing?” The answer is clear—God’s abiding presence is always the blessing. Even when I can’t find one other gift about the difficult, the pain, the hard, I know He is with me!

Start counting your gifts…

Storage Secrets

The town in which I was raised our family relocated like nomadic gypsies. While we lived in the same small berg for 14 years, we moved five times, an average of 2.8 years in each abode. We didn’t allow much time to let the grass grow before we set our sights on new digs. I’m not certain the reasons behind all these moves from one end of town to the other. I don’t think we were run out of neighborhoods for too many dandelions or breaking a noise ordinance. We displayed our washing machine in the house, not the front porch, like a redneck might. It’s not like my parents had 17 annoying children harassing the neighbors, either. Three is a pretty normal number, and we definitely were quite angelic. So, why we moved from house to house, I don’t really know unless my dad has gypsy roots. This hopping around like rabbits resulted in purging possessions frequently, although I prefer the term “simplify” much better since the former sounds too much like something we do in a toilet.

In any case, I’ve learned to simplify along the way since for many years, I too carried this gypsy gene in my veins. Until this last house in which I’ve resided for the last 11 years, I had relocated 15 times in 15 years, a measly year in each place. Goodness, a year is only enough time to move in, unpack and begin looking for a new dwelling! I felt like a squirrel scrambling up one tree, unloading a few acorns, only to set his sights on the next tree, looking for that place to call home. I didn’t have time to become a packrat or a collector of Precious Moments or Lladro. An itinerant lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to piling up possessions like Adele collecting awards at the Grammy’s.  

So, now that I’ve managed to settle down in one domicile for almost an eternity, I’ve stockpiled, stuffed and stored belongings that otherwise would have been eliminated in one of my 40,000 moves. Four overflowing bookshelves, an army of toys and ancient relics from the past threatened a coup. Thus, I embarked on a journey to eradicate unnecessary items seeking to bully us from our dwelling. My first stop, the basement storage, which hosted not only Christmas décor, but also those important artifacts from yesteryear that neither hubby nor I could bear to part with. It goes without saying that I keep a few sentimental items from the kids’ baby years, not to mention those valuable high school year books with such meaningful comments as “stay sweet” and “wish’d I could’ve spent more time with you” from friends that I haven’t talked to in 30 years.

I’m not quite sure why the man of the house complains about my growing mountain of books while he clings to Accounting and Calculus textbooks from ancient times. Surely, combs with teeth missing don’t pack sentimental value. And, why does he continue to save ski maps of Aspen and Vale from 1982? What causes us to cling to these articles that sit uselessly in the dark?  It’s like those clothes I simply can’t discard because I might wear them—someday.  Lest I place all the blame on my poor partner, why on earth do I keep research papers from college or high school unless I need to spark a bonfire? Do I really want to show my daughter my piano evaluation that displays my hapless grade on practicing and dynamics (the very things she struggles with)?  I might not be a packrat in the truest sense of the word, but what objects do I keep hidden away…just.in.case—like the two indoor water fountains that we might display someday, or the million tote bags tucked away, or the tent we’ve never used (nor will we, if I have any say). The list is endless…

And so, I simplified the storage. I emptied boxes like my 20-year-old son eats cereal. Forty-old-combs and thirty-year-old maps disappeared, and the “we might use them someday” fountains recycled. The tent was miraculously saved for “one of those years”. The storage closet, now condensed and compact like a smart car, whereas before, navigating that room was like a soldier tiptoeing across a mine field. Boxes precariously positioned and items haphazardly strewn about endangered anyone entering the room.

Cleaning out unnecessary items is cathartic. Especially for the soul. What menacing matters jeopardize my heart? What clutters my conscience? Am I hiding, harboring or hanging onto something like a child refusing to unclench her favorite blanket or stuffed animal to be washed? Do I really think I can keep anything secret from the One who sees all?

“You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence.” Psalm 90:8

So often I convince myself that if no one else knows about my anger simmering like soup, God is oblivious to it as well. Then, I read words about God creating me in the secret place, and I remember nothing is hidden from my Creator.

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.”  Psalm 139:15-16

He, who created me, is intimately familiar with everything that makes me tick. As I ponder this verse, I comprehend how strangely comforting this truth is. The God of the Universe knows me—the terrible thoughts, the shady secrets, the awful attitudes—and loves me in spite of what lurks in my heart. While others might recoil, Jesus embraces me. He exposes my sin in the light of His presence and invites me to experience His forgiveness, like the woman caught in the act of adultery. Her sin uncovered and accusers gone, Jesus forgives and summons her to live differently—to expunge damaging deeds done in the dark.

And so, He calls all of us to walk in the light, to eradicate concealed cargo that we grip tightly to. As we let go, our hearts can be filled with His goodness and grace. Just as our storage compartments are expunged of unnecessary clutter, so our hearts are freed from those secret sins which weigh us down.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”           Psalm 139:23-24

Called to Bless

No action may be as difficult as forgiving someone for pain inflicted. Whether the hurt comes from my own bad decisions or is the result of another’s poor decisions, forgiveness is challenging. The concept of “granting pardon for” or “ceasing to feel resentment against” or “cancelling the indebtedness of” rubs against my human nature. I’d rather the dirty, rotten scoundrel who twist the knife in my heart receive his or her just desserts—like a one way ticket to Siberia. Yet, God calls me to live counter to the culture and instead, return blessing for cursing, good for evil. Easy to spout; impossible to practice.

About 14 years ago, a woman broke my trust and caused devastating destruction in my life. Her actions caused the first domino to collapse in the subsequent trail of many. Though not entirely her fault, she inflicted wounds that pierced my heart like shards of glass. One day she simply showed up at my office wanting to talk. Stomach churning, I followed her out the door. We sat in her car while she explained—as if her words could in any fathomable way put a balm on the betrayal. Not a chance. Still, I knew the words I needed to speak, the words Jesus used when he faced his betrayers.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34)

She didn’t ask for forgiveness that I recall, but I offered it. I gave it away because forgiveness is “for-giving.” The words ruminating in my head for weeks prior were, “But if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matthew 6:14) The Greek root word of “forgive” is “charis,” meaning “grace.” Because God graced me, I am commanded to extend that same grace to those who wrong me—even if they don’t ask to be forgiven.

Kelly Minter, author of The Fitting Room states, “Forgiveness is looking in the face of what our offenders have done, recognizing their wound for all that it is, and then choosing to forgive. Still. It has nothing to do with denying the wrong of those who hurt us but has everything to do with changing our hearts toward them:  No more offering up every ounce of our unoccupied thinking space for dreaming about their demise.” Bummer. I guess that one way ticket to Siberia is out of the question.

Forgiveness is not a feeling; it’s a choice. If I waited for warm, fuzzy feelings to accompany forgiveness, I’d still have a pile of grudges as high as the stack of clothes on my daughter’s bedroom floor. The action precedes the feeling. In all actuality, the feeling to forgive may never appear.

Forgiveness is a process. Just when I think I have forgiveness licked, some new event re-opens old wounds forcing me to re-examine my heart. And just for the record, the old adage, “Time heals all wounds” is grossly untrue. I’ve encountered plenty of people who have allowed bitterness to fester and grow like poison ivy. As they rehearse and regurgitate all the wrongs committed against them, they spew their toxin, infecting those around them with their poisonous words. Rather than recognizing the gigantic log in their eyes, they’ve pinpointed the microscopic speck in their offender’s eyes. The reality is God heals us, not time, but in time, He will heal us if we allow Him access to our hearts. For, the more our hearts soak in His lavish grace, the more we realize how desperately lost we are without it. Being stingy with grace causes a ripple effect as we realize unforgiveness costs our peace. “For if we haven’t received God’s forgiveness, we are weighed down by guilt and fear, and if we haven’t extended it, we are assaulted with anger and the agonizing need to get even.” (Kelly Minter)   

Forgiveness is not forgetting, but it is letting the offender off of my hook and letting God take care of it. “Forgiveness is about placing the wrongs against us, not back in the hands of our enemies, but in the hands of God…Forgiveness means laying down our sword of vengeance. Even praying God’s blessing upon the person who hurt us can be one of the most powerful balms to our souls.” (Kelly Minter)

Jesus said, “Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” (Luke 6:28)

The word “bless” literally means “to speak well of.” So, let me get this straight. I am supposed to speak well of those who wish evil against me? But I don’t want God to bless them! Not today anyway. Occasionally, when I’m in a particularly magnanimous mood, I can pray this way. When I feel generous and a bit good-natured, I send blessings. However, as I read this passage, it hits me square between the eyes. Jesus doesn’t say, “When you feel charitable, bless those who mistreat you.”  Like the Nike slogan, He says, “Just Do It!”

If the first part of the verse isn’t challenging enough, I’m supposed to pray for those who insult me, treat me abusively, use me despitefully, revile me, accuse me falsely and threaten me. That’s a command way above my pay grade. In my human frailty, I can’t possibly achieve this. And honestly, I don’t even want to! Still, I know that as a follower of Jesus, I can’t pick and choose which of His words to obey. So, I pray for the want to—to want to. I realize my example is One who committed no sin, yet was betrayed, abused and broken. I offended Him and still He died for me. How can I opt out of blessing those who curse me, when I myself have cursed Him in my words and actions?

As I rely on His help to accomplish this great task, of returning blessing for cursing, praying for abusing, God promises that I will inherit a blessing.

“Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.” (1 Peter 3:9)

The act of blessing yields blessing, and who doesn’t desire that? The act of blessing not only changes me but opens up my heart to desire good for my enemy. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for because frankly, I’m not quite there yet.

Care to step into that realm of blessing for cursing together? If so, do this exercise with me:

“Father, I forgive _________________ for ________________. I pray that you bless ____________’s life. Help me to genuinely desire good things for _____________ and to “do what is right in the eyes of everybody.” (Romans 12:13) May I choose to extend grace even when that is not what I receive in return. Change my heart, O God and help me to see _______________ through your lens.”

Heart Surgery

This weekend I submitted myself to a heart examination. No, I didn’t check into a hospital or sit in a doctor’s office. Physically my heart is pumping blood like crazy. Spiritually, however, deadly problems lurk in the deep recesses where no one can see but God himself.

Annually a group of women travel to a distant monastery. Yes, I said monastery as in silence and solitude. We contemplate in stark rooms adorned with a crucifix. Our assignment is to unplug from all the distractions of technology: cell phones, computer, television, and read, rest and re-assess our hearts. While we have a little bit of an agenda including some group time, the majority is spent in the silence of our rooms or a walk outdoors or attending vespers or mass.

Moving from clamor and conversation to solitude and silence is difficult. At first, the quiet bothers me. It distracts my concentration. I can’t focus. My mind wanders down rabbit trails. It flits and flutters about like a butterfly, not resting on any particular subject for more than a second.  I look at the clock repeatedly. I have two hours before dinner, which speeds by quick as a wink when I’m at home taxiing kids to and from events, running errands in between and needing to create some sort of concoction to feed the family. But here? Two hours is eternity. I hardly know what to do with it. Do I read? Do I write? Do I take a walk in the unseasonably warm weather? I settle on slumber. Never do I take the opportunity to sleep during the middle of the afternoon, but I give myself permission today. My heart hurts, I’m tired and I want to shut out the world.

When I awake, my heart is still filled with ugly. The events of this past week have drained and dragged me down. My heart is consumed with anger, worry, fear, feelings of failure, insecurity, sadness, hopelessness. The roller coaster of life jarred me again, and I should know better. I know the Truth. However, my emotions blared much louder, drowning out the truth of God’s word, who He is and what He can do. So, I discover myself again in this place where God needs to root out my heart sickness. I read through Psalm 51:10-13,

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew

A steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me from your presence

Or take your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation

And grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways…”

My devotion reads that only God can “create” or “bara” my heart, and how I need him to perform that surgery in me. I’ve been vomiting caustic emotion everywhere this week, and yet, I’m still sick. I’ve sunk into depression like the psalmist in Psalm 42:5:

“Why are you in despair, O my soul?

And why have you become disturbed within me?

Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him

For the help of His presence.”

How do I climb out of this funk, let go of the junk contaminating my heart and let God heal me? What’s happening in my heart shows in my actions and words; it affects my family and my friends. Proverbs 4:23 states, “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring (everything flows from it) of life.” So, I’ve let my guard down and let the muck and mire in. I’ve wallowed in the mud with the pigs like the prodigal son. The stench, like Pigpen in Charlie Brown, announces my arrival before I enter a room. Do I really desire this to be my modus operandi? An event triggers certain emotions and the pool of my heart begins filling up with anger, aggravation and anxiety. Every.single.time?

As I spent a day and a half processing and praying, a tiny bit of peace perched slightly above my heart, like a tentative bird at a feeder.  It sat hesitant, unsure, because other emotions still had squatter’s rights. Kelly Minter, in her book The Fitting Room says, “Peace has to be fought for, especially when hurt feeling and wrongs are barring its way.”  Isn’t that the truth? Frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to trade in my worry for peace. Somehow, worry caused me to believe I could control the situation. In the end, I cupped worry, fear, failure, anger and the rest of the gang in my hands and held it up to God.

“God, I can’t do this anymore. I need to give this to you.

Be my Peace.

Help me let go of worry that robs me of truly resting in You.

No matter what storms rage, allow me to experience Your peace—

Your peace that passes all understanding guarding my heart

And my mind in You.”

Yes, His peace will guard my heart and my mind, protecting me from the lies of an enemy who tells me I deserve to harbor bitterness and anger, to saturate myself with feelings of failure, to fill up with fear. When I immerse myself in Him and His truth about me, I expose the Light to my heart allowing God to perform spiritual heart surgery. Again, Kelly Minter writes, ”My truest peace has to do with God’s presence and what He says is true about me, not so much with everything holding together just so. It has little to do with my external circumstances and everything to do with the voice and nearness of God. I can have peace amidst tumult if only I have him.”

What emotions have been filling up your heart?

With what circumstances do you need to entrust Him?

Ask for His peace. Cling to Him.

Whatever It Takes

Lately, I’ve been pondering the words “whatever it takes.” One time in my life I prayed this small but powerful phrase out of sheer desperation. Apparently, God heard me because my world turned completely upside down. He answered my prayer, just not in the way I desired. So, I am petrified to pray those three simple words, yet I consider them because I know God will perform a work that cannot be accomplished otherwise.

Here’s the deal. When I prayed those words over 15 years ago, I anticipated the process of “whatever it takes.” God would change the heart of the person I was praying for by taking him through a transforming encounter. Whatever it takes for the other guy. Not me. Surely not me. After all, I’m not the problem. Good church girls who are God-honoring, giving and growing don’t need the “whatever it takes” field trip because we follow the yellow brick road, like Dorothy in the “Wizard of Oz.” However, just like Dorothy, we face a few obstacles along the way that prevent us from skipping down the path straight to the wizard.

For two years, I took the trip when I expressly prayed that God mold, melt and make him into a Godly man. Unfortunately, the person for whom I prayed self-destructed. God used my prayer to change me instead. Not quite what I expected. Yet, in the process, I did whatever it took to cling to God. And, He used this simple prayer to perform whatever it took for me fix my eyes solely on Him. He grabbed my attention and holds it even now.

So, I’m thinking about praying this phrase but scared at the same time. I hesitate to throw these words out, to utter them out loud. God will answer, and what if He wants to change me instead? Surely, I’m not the one who needs another field trip.

What’s the Word?

The mantra chanted repeatedly in circles around this time of year is familiar to most of us. “Did you make any New Year’s Resolutions?” spills out of mouths like the greeting, “Merry Christmas.” People’s responses range from scorn because of past failures to excitement for what might be achieved.  I’ve failed miserably when making goals. One year I planned to eliminate sweets from my diet. In the midst of eating a piece of cake, I realized I forgot about my goal. The rest was history including that resolution. Since then, I’ve learned tips about making goals more specific and measurable. Perhaps I would’ve succeeded if my resolve were to cut sweets to three times a week instead of never eating them again. I grasped the real lesson:

never again make a resolution involving chocolate.

I enjoy creating goals for the New Year, focusing my energy with God’s help in various areas, such as family, spiritual, physical, ministry and leadership. In recent years, however, I’ve also prayed about a “word” that will characterize my year. Around November, I ponder what word God might speak to me. Many times, this word will crop up as I’m reading my Bible or another book. I may sense that He’s teaching me a trait through a family issue. I always hope it’s not patience because I really don’t want to take those field trip experiences.

A journal writer sporadically since a teen, I love looking back at what I’ve written. In my diary days, I wrote inspiring notes about boys I liked and ugly words about my sister: “She thinks she’s pretty, but she’s not.” It’s good for a chuckle but not much else. As an adult, I’ve vented and vomited words on the page. I’ve prayed and praised the God to whom I owe everything. And, I’ve remembered and recounted the events of each year. So, as I roll back the time to 2010 when my word was “flourish,” I read that it was filled with tough times, and I wrote, “I’m not sure that (flourish) really occurred in my estimation.” It felt much more like failure to me.

Last year, my word was “God’s Goodness.” Okay, that’s two words, but who’s counting?  The year began with “my brain is encased in a thick fog this morning after a migraine that felt like it was going to blow its innards like Mt. St. Helens. My left ear throbs as if someone were poking me with sharp needles.” Off to a great start so far. I began to wonder about my chosen “words” when I spent the first two week s of January 2011 in bed several days with various sicknesses…migraines, dizziness, ear pain and vomiting.  Intersperse about a million snow days when the kids were hanging around, and that’s a little too much goodness for me!

God’s Goodness

Yet, what God taught me with those two words over the course of the year was that His goodness had nothing to do with my circumstances.  In one journal entry, I wrote, “The year can only go up from here, right?! Right?! My words, “God’s goodness,” for 2011 sound almost humorous. Still I know that just because my circumstances have been bleak doesn’t mean He isn’t good. It’s all in the perspective, right?” Like a roller coaster, the year was up then down, yet I experienced His goodness in all of it. Our circumstances may not be outwardly good, but God can use them for our eternal good. What I found is that God’s goodness permeated each event in my life last year. It’s a lesson I will not forget.

So, what does this year hold? What word am I hanging on to? Drum roll, please….This year, I believe it’s “grace.” Grace for me when I blow it, and grace for me to offer others. Beyond that, I’m waiting to see how the year unfolds and what God will show me!  Now, it’s your turn.

What “word” will God give you?

Diving into Fear or Faith?

Maddie’s feet, frozen to the diving board, would not budge. Shoulders hunched and arms tense, fear fixed her body in one place, immovable. Teammates yelled encouragement, “You can do it, Maddie. You got this!” Their words couldn’t penetrate through the fear gripping her like a vise. She attempted to move her feet, walking two steps forward and then reversed, changing her mind. What if...?

Minutes earlier Maddie attempted her first reverse dive without the belt and cables attached. She ran off the board, kicked her feet into the air, hurling herself backward into the reverse position only to slam her back on top of the water. The sound reverberated through the building as I spontaneously groaned. The lifeguard looked up at me, the groaner from the bleachers. Body jutting forward in anticipation, I held my breath waiting for Maddie to climb out of the water. Holding back tears, she stood before her coach while he asked if she was okay. Maddie grimly nodded without speaking, tears threatening to break loose. She determined to be brave even though her back throbbed in pain. Coach Will directed her back to the diving board to reattempt the dive. Slowly, glumly, she padded her feet forward, letting the other divers cut in front of her several times before the coach caught on.

“Ok, Maddie. You have to go. You can do this.”

We waited. And waited. And waited. One teammate pulled her aside and gave her a pep talk. The coach hooked her up to the cable again for a quick security dive. After removing the cable, she mounted the board, stared at the water and then at the sky where her feet were supposed to kick. Instead of performing the dive, she straight jumped into the water from the board. Another distraction. Minutes passed of standing on the diving board, staring at the water and sky again, willing her legs kicking high into the air, hands and face into the water and not her back on top of it! Minutes ticked into an hour.  Practice was an hour over, yet Maddie’s teammates hung around to offer words of encouragement. Still, no dive. Fear wrapped around her mind like a boa constrictor, and it wouldn’t let go. Finally, the coach released Maddie from repeating the dive until the next practice when she’d face that board, that dive and that fear again.

The coach desperately desired that Maddie nail that dive successfully before she left practice. He didn’t want her to wait so she could stew and fret and worry. He knew that if Maddie went home having performed her reverse dive, her confidence would build instead of her fear. Instead, her fears still loom like monsters in the dark until the next practice.

Fear is defined as a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined. Maddie told me later that her mind told her to take that dive, but her body wouldn’t move. The threat of her 60 pound body smacking the water chained her to the board like a prisoner.  What will break that chain of fear holding her fast?

Fear can be healthy when it cautions to be careful around a dangerous situation. We teach our children to fear walking in front of cars on a busy street. Be careful and always look both ways, we tell them. When we encounter an animal, we maintain distance until we know it’s safe. Many of us won’t venture into a dangerous part of a big city by ourselves after dark. Fear causes us to take extra precautions when we travel to a foreign country. Fear can keep us alive!

On the other hand, fear has the power to keep us from experiencing all that God has for us. We don’t fly in airplanes because they might crash. We don’t let our children out of our control because something bad might happen. We shy away from deepening friendships because we might get hurt. Our fears range from the seemingly reasonable to the extremely irrational.  We are each uniquely created. Both our environments and our personalities play roles in our fears. Some of us were born with a predisposition for certain fears and others developed fears at a young age due to circumstances. Some fears grew out of painful situations, and others seem silly. No matter what our fears may be, we need to determine whether they are keeping us stuck in a holding pattern like an airplane that must keep circling the sky before it can land. What might we experience if we replace that fear with faith? What are we missing because we are too scared, like Maddie glued to the diving board?

God may or may not magically take away our fears. He desires us to work through them, replacing fear with faith. Every “what if” that deters us from experiencing all that God has planned for us, we ought to take captive. We need to keep taking steps of faith down the diving board, flinging our feet up into the air, relying on Him to catch us as we soar through the air. Then, we can enjoy the splash of hands and face, not back, diving deep into the life-giving water that fuels our faith instead of our fear.

What fear do you need to entrust to God?