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wobbly

7/16/2014

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It was a wobbly start even though my six-year-old looked confident as she
picked up her bike.  A breeze whipped her hair across her face as she looked
over her shoulder to throw me a smile and to make sure I was there, watching. 
She had protestingly donned jeans, ever my skirt wearer.  Last year, she had
finished the best part of bike season fairly proficient.  We had even biked
together, though a little precariously, in the addition where we live.  Now, at
her first attempt this year, she expected the best.  However, the bike wobbled
under her as her muscle memory geared up for the first time in months.  She fell
over several times.  It actually took a couple of days for her, but soon she was
riding confidently and feeling rather happy, I would say.

My bike wobbled too as my friend told me they were headed back to the
hospital with her little girl.  I was walking along just fine when God asked me
to start riding again.  I too glanced over my shoulder to make sure He was
there.  I got out my bible and let truth sink into my heart from passages that
had sustained my life more than once in storms.  A couple of the pages seemed to
fall open to these deep, life-preserving verses.  Others stayed hidden deep in
my own rusty "muscle memory".  A slightly easier season of life had allowed my
muscles to weaken a bit as I focused on other things.  Now my heart demanded
them to do their job.  I found myself reminded of my desperate need of
Jesus.

So with It is Well playing in the background, I got on my
bike.  I flexed my memory, "Is it first Corinthians four or second Corinthians?" 
I checked both and reread, "Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly
we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far  outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is  unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."


I climbed back up on the bike and unsteadily rode toward Jesus.  The process
of surrender and trust is a wobbly one at times, at least for me.  The drive for
me to encourage my friend with life-giving truth and not just kind words makes
me get back up when I fall. 

However, I gained strength and momentum in the riding.

Paul reminded me of my aim in Philippians 3, "that I may know Him and the
power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in  his death."
  The courage God gave to the early disciples in Acts 14 gave courage
to me, "strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue  in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the  kingdom of God."  Jesus' life itself begets strength in Hebrews 5, "Although He  (Jesus) was a son, He learned obedience through what He suffered."  

I continued reading reminding myself of our sovereign God, our great
treasure.  As I focus my mind willfully on who He is, my heart fills with love,
adoration, and gratefulness.  When the God of the universe promises Himself as
Abraham's very own shield (Genesis 15), when He guarantees the priestly tribe of
the Levites the inheritance of Himself (Deuteronomy 18), I find myself saying,
"Lord, I want You as my shield and inheritance!"  

"You are my portion and my cup...indeed I have a beautiful inheritance,"
Psalm 16 declares.  "May all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You! May those  who love Your salvation say evermore, 'God is great!'" Psalm 70:4 sings.  "You  are good and do good; teach me Your statutes," Psalm 119:68 reminds.

I am biking hard now in hot pursuit of God instead of my own understanding,
and there is indeed the fullness of joy in His presence.
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the gentleman

8/7/2011

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through these months of silence, i've experienced some of the deepest valleys of my emotional life.  i cannot compare my experience with those of others that i know personally who have also suffered much more than i have.  however, it was, for me, suffering all the same.

it was deep darkness.  it was complete isolation.  it was, at points, despair.

but God.

just when i doubted i could take another breath, i did.  and then somehow, God sustained my life for another... and then another. 

you know how people say all the time that "God is a gentleman" and "He won't barge His way in" and what not?  i can't subscribe to that theory as a Christian.  i suppose there is the proverbial door at which Christ stands and knocks (to the church in revelation 3) waiting for them to open it.  although, my question now is: was it meant as a light rap or as a pounding?

while it is true that God is a gentleman in the sense that He is gentle towards me, there has been little of what i wanted in my life of late and a whole lot of what He did.  that sounds more like Lord than a polite, mannerly acquaintance.

the past 8 months (and in retrospect, well before that) have been ones where God has completely pushed me into a corner and waited out my fight or flight reflex.  psychologically speaking, i had a process to go through as part of the work He was purposing in me. 

part in which was the complete act of surrender.  while i knew a lot about it and wholeheartedly believed in it, it was becoming clear to me (once shoved in the corner) that i wasn't.  i clung to any resemblance of normalcy and sprinkled the Word on top.  it wasn't intentional avoidance of surrender.  it was just me, being the best version of myself that i could, coping through the most difficult time in my life.

but God. 

the other part of the process was really believing with all my emotions what i believed intellectually about God.  my heart did not trust God or run to Hiim for help when life was troubled....  i created a response from my self-persevering, survival mode which did not embrace the bigness of God, the power of God, nor in reality the love of God.

but God.

so He backed me into the hardest corner of my life, stood right there the whole time saying to me, "there's another way to live," while i totally despaired because of my disbelief.  and finally, when emotionally, psychologically, physically i could stand it no longer in that corner, in that despair, in that pain, i said, "okay."

and though that may not sound very gentlemanly to you, it was the kindest thing He's ever done for me.  in that moment and in the weeks that have passed, my life has radically changed.  the pain is still there, but it is lessened in His brilliance.  as i stare in awe at the Author and Finisher of my faith, the One who gave His life, the Sustainer of my soul, there is more joy than sadness, more beauty than ashes, more life than death.

the joy is unspeakable and full of glory. 
no kidding.

and the "suffering" feels more like the light and momentary affliction paul talks about in corinthians.

i can't say it enough:  thanks, God, with all my heart. 


in this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials,  that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ,  whom having not seen you love.  though now you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, receiving the end of your faith—the salvation of your souls.  1 Peter 1:6-9
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the gps: my own personal mirror

2/4/2011

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it hit me like a ton of bricks.  it must be some suppressed issue from a childhood incident, right?  or maybe some relational neglect or oppression...  or, maybe, just maybe, it's human nature.  and when it is left unchecked, unnoticed, unrestrained it becomes what i have: distrust.

it became perfectly clear to me on a recent trip to indianapolis. 

i was headed to a restaurant that i had been to once before, though not for a long time.  i knew the general vicinity, had snagged the address off the internet, and grabbed the garmin.  (yes, we finally jumped on the band wagon when presented at christmas time with the gadget.  now we are proud owners of what my so-non-gadget-husband swears we have always needed.)  i typed in the address and merrily pulled out of our garage listening to one of my favorite radio talk shows.

there weren't any "problems" until i got closer to my destination.  i was about 15 minutes away when i started wishing that i could see the whole map.  i found myself driving and attempting to figure out how to see more than just my next turn.   zoom in...  zoom out...  menu...  i was surprisingly uncomfortable not knowing a couple moves ahead.  and i laughed nervously out loud at myself and my discomfort and my distrust.

okay, you can wipe that smirk off your face now.  maybe you laugh because you know how to operate this sensational piece of equipment; and you are enjoying my complete, total ineptness.  perhaps that deserves a laugh.

or, maybe you shake your head because you know the secret of the abiding.  you have walked with God in tough spots and know unwaveringly in the deepest crevasses of your heart the confidence that comes in walking with Him.

i have abided too at times...  only unknowingly disconnecting myself from Him to try to control my situation.  but, i have to abide today - february 4, 2011.  it's been a different sort of challenge for me to trust him 2,500 some days into a disease than day one.

but, you know what?  i like it.   i like that 7 years calls me to uncover my embarrassing distrust, my ugly unbelief that can only truly be shown to me at this juncture.  when i can see the problem, i have the chance to know the depth of freedom, miraculous mercy, and  unending grace at work in my life.  that makes me want to wipe His feet with my tears of gratitude.  then, take a deep breath  - and trust again today.
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