How will they know Him?

       When my oldest daughter, Abigail, was less than a year old, I felt overwhelmed by the task of raising this little girl to know and love Jesus. It was my most earnest desire as a mother, but I felt a bit daunted by the weight of significance.

       At that time, we had a young man named Caleb living with us. I felt the Lord ask me “How does Abigail know Caleb?” She, of course, knew Caleb because he lived in our house. She saw him every day, she heard our conversations with him, she observed our interaction with him, she talked with him and played with him. His mere presence in our home meant that it would be pretty difficult for her not to know him. Of course, her knowledge of him and relationship with him differed from ours, since in her youth she lacked understanding in some of the things that we adults could know about one another. But nonetheless, she knew him, as well as she could know anyone, simply by living with him.

       I felt the Lord encouraging me that what I am longing to see in my children in terms of knowing and loving God will not be primarily a matter of “teaching” her to know the Lord, but mostly the result of simply living in His presence. If His Spirit is truly filling our hearts, if we talk with Him daily, if we tell the stories of all the things He’s done throughout history (even before we were born), if we reminisce about special times we’ve shared with Him…then He will be as real to her, and as knowable, as any other person who resides in our home.

       I was simultaneously encouraged and challenged by that invitation, and I think I’m feeling that same kind of longing right now. I’ve been thinking about the humanity and divinity of Jesus a lot lately. I am hungry to know Him – to really, really know Him. “From Patmos” (learn about it here; or watch it here) gave such a tangible picture of Jesus in the flesh – a man who was knowable, just like I know any other friend. I want that longing for the Messiah to come (again), and that awe and joy and confidence that the Messiah is my friend. Is He really as tangible to me as the people I can reach out and touch with my hands? I know He is a person, not a collection of ideas, but am I really engaging with Him on that level on a moment by moment basis?

Happy Easter!

     Jesus is Alive! We have reason to celebrate! I hope that you, dear visitor to my little blog, know the hope that is found in Jesus.

     God Himself, come to dwell with men in the flesh, has defeated sin and death and showed us perfectly the character of God. The Servant King, the Holy One, humbled Himself even to the point of willingly submitting to death. He didn't submit just to the idea of death (as in death as a result of the breakdown of the human body over time) but specifically a form of death intended to torture and humiliate (the cross). But He is not defeated. He is Risen! He really died, and he really was resurrected. After defeating death, His physical, resurrected body walked on the earth, among many witnesses. He now dwells in heaven with the Father, and He will come again to the earth to establish His kingdom.

     One very real day to come, every knee will bow (including your own) and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord. This won't be spiritual knees in some ethereal fantasy land. You, my friend, will have a body on that day, and you will bow before the King of the universe.

     He desires that you know Him and worship Him now, in your brief life on the earth. By His very real death and resurrection, He has made the way for you to have True Life. To know God and be transformed into His image. You do not have to be a slave to sin!
     This is what we celebrate today.

    An egg hunt might seem like a silly way to celebrate, but there is something to be found in the symbols of searching , finding hidden treasure, within eggs (representing new life), and the opening of that egg to find a surprise gift waiting inside (like discovering the open tomb, and the surprise gift of the resurrection of the Messiah).

Bread of Life

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, 

and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.” John 6:35

I didn’t get to spend time sitting with my bible yesterday, but the Lord totally spoke to me while I was working with Abigail on her Bible homework. It was a good reminder that giving myself to the Word doesn’t have to follow a certain comfortable and familiar formula (i.e. me + bible + comfy chair (+warm drink if possible)) For her class each week we memorize a verse and do some meditation time. While we were meditating, the Lord gave me this picture:

     I saw Jesus standing in front of a vast, endless ocean of loaves of bread. He was smiling. Large, hefty loaves of bread were piled up behind him, and they went as far as I could see, out to the horizon. I knew it was showing His inexhaustible resources. I was struck with the understanding that the supply needed to be inexhaustible, because we need to continually be fed from His hand. The elimination of hunger that resulted was not because of some magical quality within the bread. In other words, it was the coming to Jesus that resulted in being filled and hunger being satisfied. This was not a matter of acquiring something that would once and for all bring satisfaction. Being fed was a natural result of coming to Him, but once having been fed we were not then able to walk away without experiencing that same gnawing hunger once again.

     I knew there were many people before Him, but I only saw one person, right at His feet. I felt this was speaking to Jesus’ intimate knowledge of the needs of each one who came to Him, and the way He tenderly cares for each one of us. He was not simply tossing food into the hungry masses. He was personally and intimately providing exactly the nourishment that was needed for that specific person at that precise moment.

     I had a brief picture of Jesus turning around to the immense pile of loaves and searching for a specific loaf, but I knew in an instant that this was a picture of my own distorted understanding of His ways, and not the true nature of what God was showing me. I asked the Lord for understanding, and I saw the searching through loaves as somehow representing Jesus looking for a thing outside of Himself to give. I saw myself flipping through my bible, looking for just the right verse that would really speak to me in the moment. It was as though I was identifying the “bread of life” that quenches hunger as being embodied within a specific encouraging word, a scripture, an impression, etc. I was seeing His perfection of knowing of me and his perfect resource as being hindered by a delay in connecting me with just the right “thing” that would satisfy.

     Suddenly I was looking at him again, and He was shining brighter than before. Whereas before the sense was of a room full of light, where He was out of place, this time the light was clearly emanating from Him. He was luminescent. He began to reach his hands into his own belly, and as He did the ocean of bread disappeared from behind Him and the most intense light I’ve ever seen burst out from the place where He reached inside Himself. I instantly knew that the bread He was giving was not simply available to Him to give, it was within and of Him. He Himself is the bread of life. We are nourished by His very essence, His character. In coming to Him we receive of Him, and this alone is the bread that satisfies.

     He was meeting the very specific needs and satisfying every cry of hunger within those who came to Him, but it was not by means of anything external to Himself. He reached inside Himself and from within came forth what was needed to give life. Now, I don’t mean that what He gave was the same for each person from that point on. There was still distinction in what He gave. But there was no hesitation, no searching, no pondering what would be needed, and nothing added apart from what He Himself was. He simply gazed lovingly in the eyes of the one before Him, reached into Himself, and brought forth exactly what was right.

When words are both weapon and salve for the wound

She wasn’t the first to receive a lashing from my tongue today. Razors on my lips, cutting little tender hearts. “What are you doing?! You’re standing right by Lucia’s door and shouting! If you wake her up I am not going to be happy!”


“Mommy, don’t ever talk to me like that!” The quiver in her lip reveals the damage I’ve done, but I hear the anger in her voice and call it rebellion.


My fuse has already been lit, and I could close my mouth, but I don’t. Isn’t my own rebellion really the fuel for this fire seeking to destroy us both?


“Don’t you ever tell me what to do!” My voice is large and powerful, but inside I wince even as I’m still forming the words. Oh! Where do words like these come from? That tone of voice. The daggers in my eyes.


The quivering lip can’t hold it in now, and the wounded one shrieks as she runs to her bed. Tears spill onto her pillow, as my own tears sting my eyes. The bitterness of failure biting the edges, as I struggle to see, to grasp for Grace.


She crumples on the bed, I crumple to the floor. We both quiver with liquid prayers flowing over faces and hearts.


     It’s here, right here in these moments, where I am learning to find Jesus. In the weak places. The broken places. The ones that make my heart reel and my head spin with pain over what I’ve done. When I see my sin for what it is and I cannot hide it from my eyes. 


     I’m learning to hear Him in the dark and lonely places. The places that used to make me cower in fear and shame. When that accusing voice calling me a failure as a mother sounds true, because what kind of mother talks to her daughter like that? When the tempter comes with his searing whisper “You’ve tried and you’ve failed. You’re beyond hope now.”


     But lies aren’t Truth, no matter what I feel or how I fail. And I’m beginning to see that the One who is Faithful and True has been speaking the whole time. But what He says seems so impossible, for so long I didn’t dare to believe Him.

He has clothed me with garments of salvation

and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, Is. 61:10 

     Here in the mud and the muck of my heart, God Himself has claimed me as His own possession. Jesus paid the highest price for my freedom, all so that He can clothe me with His finest garments. 


    And yet, I’ve slipped and fallen in the mud again. Hasn’t He done enough? Hasn’t He tired of me continually needing rescuing? Shouldn’t I be stronger by now, able to walk on my own without tripping and stumbling again and again? 


      And this, THIS is the lie, the one that makes hopelessness inevitable. The lie that I am supposed to be able to do this on my own.


     When I come out of hiding, that sweet, still, small voice never fails. “Come to me.” 

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.  Matthew 11:28-30

     The ease doesn’t come in me finding my own strength, it comes from being yoked to Him. Somehow I wandered, tried to carry a load that I thought was mine to bear alone. But as my tears and His voice draw me home, I turn my heart again to the One who is forming me into His own likeness. I have no strength to bring, only the one thing I can give, my heart. If I don't give up, I win!


     In the coming to Him, I go to her. The sobs have quieted, but her voice still shakes when I come near. Low and gentle, on my knees by her bed, I offer my sincere repentance. And she too, washed by Grace, holds me tight as we let Love heal us and repair the breach.

For more on the power of words, read Ann Voskamp's fabulous post today, 

The Gift of {Strong} Words.

The joy of salvation comes through repentance

I don’t want to construct a life that displays my earnest effort to avoid the need to repent.  I want to delight in the mercy of God and display the truth of His goodness!  


Repentance is a joy, and forgiveness is exhilarating!  


He is so good to me!  Jesus came to set me free, today!  I haven’t matured beyond my need for His mercy.  I need Him today, and I’ll need Him tomorrow.  And just because He wants to, because of who He is, He’ll be there to answer when I turn away from sin and turn to Him and ask Him to cleanse me again.  


There is no sin that can defeat me when I really bring it to Him and say “This sin is mine.  I don’t want it anymore.  Please get it out of me.  I can’t do it myself!”  JESUS WINS!  Every. Single. Time. 


http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+51&version=NKJV

A Journey in Matthew 9, via my own heart

“Son, be of good cheer; your sins are forgiven you.” (9:2, Jesus, to the paralytic man)

      I wonder what the paralytic man thought of that. Did he understand that Jesus was in that moment displaying Himself as The Son of God? Did the man know that this was his deepest need? Did he realize that he had just been given open access relationally to God in the flesh? He had just been invited into fellowship with the Holy One, God Himself! Did he even have a clue?
      I can picture myself as the paralytic man. In that moment, still lying on the mat, legs still unrenewed, completely unaware of the miracle taking place in the spirit, thinking “Dude, that’s nice…but are you gonna do something about my legs?”
      How would I respond if I was that man? Would I see the treasure of forgiveness for what it is? Would I be able to receive it? What are the things that I’m bringing before the Lord, asking Him to do for me, that may be stealing my focus from what He really wants to do in me?

“…that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins…” (9:6)

      I think I’ve typically read this like “that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins…”. The emphasis has been on the power. He does have power. And I do need a revelation of what that means. But in seeing His power in a different light, I think a foundational reality has somehow dimmed…that this power is unto the forgiveness of sins.
      Like a paralyzed man caring more about his legs than his soul, I come to the Lord longing for His hand in my life, yielding tangible change and “results”. I am all too aware of my weakness. I know I need forgiveness. I yearn to be washed of my sin. But is that longing for forgiveness unto restored relationship? Do I want to be free from sin so that I can engage my heart fully with the Holy Spirit? Or am I longing for an unburdened heart so that I can get on with my business more efficiently, unhindered by the consequences of sin? Am I seeking intimacy, or functionality?

“...a ruler came and worshipped Him, saying “My daughter has just died, 

but come and lay Your hand on her and she will live.” (9:18)

      In considering the story of the paralytic man, and my own tendency to seek Jesus’ power in my life for my own benefit, I am tempted to squelch that desire for evident power. Like some sort of twisted means to, by the flesh, force my flesh to submit to the Spirit. As though denying the evidence of power would somehow purify my desire for God, because I would be simply walking in the Spirit for Himself, without the possibility of my own benefit.
      But here, just a few verses later, my religious attempt at self-righteous purity of heart is exposed. Here, the ruler comes to Jesus, seeking the healing of His daughter. And this seeking, this asking for tangible power to be made manifest, is described as “{he} came and worshipped Him.”

Fisherman

     Recently I was reading through Matthew Chapter 4, which tells of Jesus calling Simon Peter and Andrew, who were fisherman. He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” It reminded me of something the Lord spoke to my heart a couple weeks ago, and wanted to share it here with you as an encouragement.

     I was sitting by a quiet lake/pond (alone for the first time in many months!) just fellowshipping with the Lord. I was meditating on the life of Peter, and was especially pondering the time when the Lord appears to him by the sea after the resurrection (John 21, when Jesus tells them to cast the net on the right side of the boat, and they caught so many fish they couldn’t even draw in the net.)

     I hear a noise and look up to see a man several yards away, unfolding a chair and taking out a fishing pole. I think “Fancy that! A fisherman, just like Peter.” As the man prepares his hook and casts his line into the pond, the Lord drops the phrase into my heart

“One who casts a line is no less a fisherman than one who casts a net.”

     I won’t unpack all that the Lord spoke to me, but the main thing was this – in this season of my life, most of my time is spent on tasks that have direct impact on only a very small number of people. My husband, my children, some friends, and maybe a few strangers that the Lord puts in my path. There are no multitudes. But He calls me a fisher of men just the same as He calls the evangelist whose net is much wider. A fisherman is a fisherman because he is engaged in the task of catching fish. My line may only have room to catch one fish at a time. I may spend most of my energy trolling for the four little fish in my own pond (i.e. my children).

    But I am, indeed, a fisher of men. And if you know Jesus, He's called you just the same!  You don't have to wait for "someday" when you have an official ministry platform.  You have Good News, and the world needs it.  Don't disqualify yourself.  Just go fish!