In My Father's House by Liz Swauger

(Note from Tamra: Good & Perfect Gifts has a guest blogger! I hope you enjoy this fabulous post as much as I did. Check out Liz's blog at http://iamhispoiema.blogspot.com/)

In Capernaum, and other places I’m sure, the tradition was that when a man wanted to marry a woman, he would build a home attached to wherever his parents lived. The homes were splayed out from the father’s home, with each child building onto it. There might be courtyards, but for the most part it was very connected and close in proximity. When the home, or room as they were more often like, was ready, the man would bring his wife back and they would consummate their marriage.

This was the exact type of setting that Jesus was overlooking in Capernaum when He said, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to myself that where I am you may be also” (John 14:2-3). The illustration was right in front of them!

I used to think, before this past Sunday when I was enlightened on Capernaum-ian culture, that this verse meant that Jesus had to go back to Heaven to make me a mansion. So, partially in jest, when I would do something particularly stunning for “the Kingdom” or honor God in some great way, I would quip, “You are helping me get that Jacuzzi!” or, “That’s okay, I just earned an extra level to my home in Heaven!” After all, the American Dream of more and more stuff must be directly translatable into heavenly “treasure”—no? So while my mind had constructed a giant mansion in (probably) a glitzy suburban neighborhood on one of Heaven’s golden streets, I was struck to have that thought derailed by a different picture.

One house. My Father’s house.

And an image of His Son, building a room for the bride of Christ. And when the house is complete, He will return and receive us there. Not flashy. Not multiple stories and endless amenities… but intimacy. Intimacy with the Son, and intimacy with the Father. It was not about me having something nice separated from God in my own heavenly time-share. It was about Christ bringing us back to be a part of His home with the Trinity.

The gift is that the triune God, driven by His love and desire for a relationship with us, doesn’t just “want us in Heaven”—that’s not close enough. He wants us in His home, not merely living, but abiding with Him and Our Father.

Just a Quick Note

God is good and gifts abound, but I've been temporarily redirected. For several weeks I prayed about what to post and which writing project to focus on next and was a little frustrated because God seemed to be silent on both issues. Responding in my typical Type A fashion, I kept asking God the same questions and waiting for Him to respond the way I expected. However, when I finally stopped looking for the answers I expected and started listening for God's direction, I was reminded of something on my "To-Do Next" list.

I prayerfully compiled the "To-Do Next" list at the Proverbs 31 conference in August. It included big things like rewriting an article for publication and little things like sending emails and checking out blogs. I'm happy to report that I've crossed almost everything off the list. Almost. One big task remains however, and the only answer to my many prayers for writing direction pointed to that one thing: organize notes.

So, I am currently in the process of sorting through and organizing a year's worth of notes. These "notes" consist of vague outlines scribbled in my writing notebook, nearly illegible ideas scrawled on pieces of scrap paper at stoplights, and hastily jotted keywords turned cryptic messages because I was under the mistaken assumption I'd remember what I was thinking when I wrote down "buckets" on a post-it note and shoved it in my pocket.

In the midst of all this, my Type A personality is fretting a bit. My weekly blog hits have ticked up (thank you!), but everybody knows that out-of-date posts cause readers to lose interest. Still, I truly believe God wants me to get these notes sorted out before I move on, so that's what I'm going to do. I've had to remind my Type A personality that I've surrendered ambition and determined to simply respond to God's call. Whatever He chooses to do with that is a good and perfect gift.

Sing-Along

Sometimes the best gifts are those we share with others, and yet it's so easy to take corporate worship for granted. I don't mean to say it loses it's significance or ceases to be enjoyable, but if you go to church regularly, it's just a part of life. Get up on Sunday morning, go to church, listen to announcements, stand with congregation, sing God's praises. Repeat 52 times a year. But this past Sunday, God gave me a fresh perspective.

As I stood singing and pretending not to cry (see "I'm No Cry Baby") I let my eyes wander around the room. I kept singing, but after a few minutes, I was only half paying attention because my mind had taken a cue from my eyes and was wandering as well, (Judy's girls are so cute...Hey, it's Brenda! I haven't talked to her in awhile...I wonder if Sharon has sold her house yet? Where's Mary Jane? I've missed her...). And then, the chorus of a song tore my attention from these pleasantly temporal thoughts.

Savior, you showed your love
Defeated our sin, poured out your blood
So we praise you, lamb that was slain
We offer our lives to proclaim
"What a Savior!"

In that moment, I was struck by the mingling of the mundane and mysterious. I was confessing these words with hundreds of people, many of whom I know well and enjoy interacting with in the course of everyday life. Though the truth expressed was not new to me, I marveled as the throng of mere mortals gratefully proclaimed it afresh. Infinite, immutable, inexhaustible grace extended to all those who confess Christ. Generations of His redeemed children will sing of Him throughout all eternity. I wouldn't miss it for the world, would you?

An Unusual Response

If you've been keeping up with my blog, you probably know I attended a writers' conference a few weekends ago. If you haven't, this post will make more sense if you read "A Gift Greater Than Gold" below.

The Proverbs 31 Ministries She Speaks Conference was phenomenal. Most of the sessions I attended were part of the writers' track, but I've recently developed a mild curiosity about speaking, so I sat in on a few speaker sessions as well. It was informative. It was inspirational. It was...exhausting, delightfully exhausting.

By the middle of the second day, there were so many things swirling around my brain that I had to step outside for a few minutes to take a few deep breaths and ask God what to do with all the inspiration and information.

I wasn't stressed or overwhelmed, but I knew God had brought me to the conference for a reason, and I wanted to be a good steward of what I had been given. As I sought God in prayer, it became clear to me that what I was to do was:

• learn: soak up as much information as possible
• ponder: continue to look for ways to apply Biblical truths to everyday situations
• practice: keep writing, be open to the possibility of speaking
• persevere: don't quit; write as an offering, not for an outcome
• pray: stay close to Him and listen for His direction
• respond: act when called
• wait: trust in Him; wait and see what He will do

The weird thing was: I was totally okay with that answer. Usually, when something interests me, I run in one direction or the other. Either I charge ahead, running ahead of God, convincing myself it's all up to me, and clinging to a particular outcome, or I decide the chances of failure are too great and give up before I get started. But not this time.

This time I was content to say, "Here I am. I am willing. I will follow." I had come to a place where I was neither striving nor resisting, just trusting in His plan and His timing and ready to follow His lead. It was a feeling so contrary to my nature that it could only be a good and perfect gift.

Coincidence? Ha!

Angela does not want me to go the conference this weekend (to find out who Angela is, you'll have to read the next post, and you can find out more about the conference in the post, "A Gift Greater Than Gold"). When she's not telling me that it's a waste of time, she's busy predicting a variety of disasters that will prevent me from going. When my husband came back inside yesterday morning and told me he was unable to dislodge the tire tread he had run over the night before from the rear axle of the truck and would have to take the car to work, it was tempting to listen to her, but Beau said it wasn't a big deal. He didn't want to drive the truck all the way to work, but assured me it would be fine to drive it to the mechanic down the street. So he turned the truck around in the driveway for me, and I made an afternoon appointment with the mechanic...but I didn't make the appointment because the truck wouldn't start.

Since the truck worked just fine earlier, I assumed the tire tread had done some sort of damage when Beau turned the truck around. Angela pounced at this unwelcome turn of events. "Something terrible happened when Beau moved the truck. It's probably thousands of dollars worth of damage that will take days to repair. How are you going to get to the conference, hmmmm??" I'll admit I listened to her for a few minutes, but then decided I would view the situation as a gift—an opportunity to trust God. So I answered every thought from Angela with Psalm 121:1-2, "..where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord."

I called AAA for a tow , and even though I knew we'd likely have to walk home if the damage was serious, Zack and I caught a ride to the mechanic with the tow truck driver. I took advantage of the waiting time to work on a blog post, and even had time to read a great article called, "Sit. Stay." The topic? The importance of not running away or finding distractions when faced with an uncomfortable, but beneficial situation (imagine me needing to be reminded of that this week!).

In less than an hour, the perky receptionist called me up and said, "We were able to remove the tire tread, no problem. And the only thing wrong with the truck was a dead battery, which was totally independent of the lodged tire tread. Isn't that a crazy coincidence?" I smiled and said, "great news! praise God!" And inside I was thinking, "Coincidence? Ha! It's a good and perfect gift."

Fighting The Lizard Brain

I just finished reading a fantastic book called Linchpin. Are You Indispensable? It's a secular book from marketing guru Seth Godin. Naturally, he writes from a secular point of view, but the bulk of his message is only amplified when considered from a biblical perspective. The most important thing I took away from the book can best be expressed by Godin himself, "It turns out that what we need are gifts and connections and humanity—and the artist who create them." We're all born "artists" with something unique and brilliant inside of us, and we all long to share it with others. The art we create isn't limited to painting, writing, or making music. We have the opportunity to create art in every interaction. "Being open is art. Making a connection when it's not part of your job is gift. You can say your lines and get away with it, or you can touch someone and make a difference in their life forever. This is risky and it's impossible to demand of someone. The decision to commit to the act is a personal one, a gift from the heart."

Sadly, however, we're often unwilling to extend ourselves. We're often hesitant to create and share our art. And it's because of what Godin calls the lizard brain. "Everyone has a voice inside their head that's angry and afraid. That voice is the resistance—your lizard brain." The lizard brain doesn't want us to take risks and doesn't like change. The lizard brain tells us we must be perfect. And the lizard brain is tenacious, it "will invent stories, illnesses, emergencies, and distractions in order to keep the genius bottled up." The "wicked, lazy servant" in Matthew 25 listened to his lizard brain.

Godin wonders why "we're so easily able to expend emotional labor off the job, but uncomfortable expending the same energy on the job," and asks "Can the time you spend at work be the place you give gifts, create connections, invent, and find joy?" The thing is, I've never had a problem with expending emotional labor at work. Give me a job to do, and I will not only approach it with passion, but will easily (and happily) connect with and relate to the people associated with the work. The problem I struggle with is that my lizard brain wants to tie the relationships and the passion to the work. My lizard brain likes work. Work is necessary, predictable, and controlled. As long as I have something to do, my lizard brain feels safe, and as I discussed in my post "Skating Through Life," work can be a convenient distraction to keep me from creating art.

So last fall when I felt God pushing me to create the art He was calling me to create and extend myself outside the context of getting a job done, my lizard brain fought like never before. It took months of prayer, Bible study, and counsel from trusted friends (thanks Jen and Titus group ladies!) to quiet the lizard brain. It was a hard fight, and though the lizard brain lost the battle, I knew it wouldn't give up the war.

My lizard brain talks so much, I've given it a name: Angela (after Angela on The Office). As I tiptoed out in faith to respond to God's leading, I asked Him to keep me stocked with anti-Angela ammunition for the battles I knew would come. He has faithfully provided just what I needed at just the right times through scriptures, sermons, songs, emails, conversations, and many other places, including Seth Godin's book.

Seth Godin is undoubtedly an artist, and Linchpin is a gift to his readers, but the fact that it made it into my hands at just the right time was a good and perfect gift from the master Artist.

p.s. Godin devotes more than a chapter to the significance of gifts. Artists may be paid for their gifts, but the recipient can never fully compensate the artist. We can, however, be changed by the art. We can be inspired to give a gift to someone else. "A gift always creates a surplus as it spreads." I love that quote, but one of my favorite things Godin says about gifts comes from his blog. "The way I understand gifts is that the giver must make a sacrifice, create an uneven exchange, bring himself closer to the recipient, create change and do it all with the right spirit. To do anything less might be smart commerce, but it doesn't rise to the magical level of the gift." Everytime I read that, I'm reminded of the gift of salvation. In the spirit of perfect love, Christ made a sacrifice that we can never repay. We are brought closer to Him through His gift, and are changed in the process. Love that.

A Gift Greater Than Gold

We don't do debt at our house anymore, but that's another story. It's actually a great story, but all you need to know right now is that, with the exception of our mortgage, we don't do debt. I'm not particularly frugal and am no financial wizard, but as the keeper of the finances, I know the only way to live without debt is to set aside money each month for things we know we'll want or need. One of the biggest chunks we set aside right now is called the "car fund" because while my husband and I are happy to drive our current vehicles as long as they last, both are over ten years old, so it just makes sense to be prepared. We started the fund after selling some property and paying off all our debt over a year ago, and have been faithfully paying into it every month since. It's pretty healthy, but we won't be really comfortable for another year or so. Still, we've been blessed with reliable cars, and have faith that God will provide us with what we need when we need it.

Because of that, when it came time to make a pledge to our church's annual missionary budget, it seemed logical to earmark at least one month's car savings. Each year, members of our church are asked to promise a certain amount of support in faith that God will enable them to honor their commitment. Called a "faith-promise," it is an opportunity to share in the building of God's kingdom and to exercise our faith. For the 2009-2010 budget year, we committed to one month's car savings, plus 25%. At the time, it seemed like just enough of a stretch, but honestly, I had very little doubt we'd be able to honor the commitment. I had focused most of my faith in the hopes that neither vehicle would need to be replaced until we had built up our car fund, but God had much bigger things in mind, and two circumstances would soon arise that would truly test my faith in particular.

The first was an unwelcome surprise. Near the end of 2009, we received a huge, unexpected bill from our HOA. The details aren't important, but it funded a major project mandated by an outdated state law. While we took advantage of the option to break up the amount into three payments over several months, the total bill was equal to exactly three months of car savings, and that's just where we decided it would come from. I didn't feel great about it, but figured there was no sense worrying about it either, so I took a deep breath, prayed, and tried to let it go.

The second came up in the Spring, months after we'd paid the first installment to our HOA and months before the final two installments were due. I really felt God was leading me to attend a writer's conference in the summer, but was discouraged when I learned it would cost several hundred dollars (or two months of car savings). I talked it over with my husband, and was pleasantly surprised when he said I should go. Again, we were looking at a major expense we hadn't budgeted for, and again--unwilling to tap into our "real" savings--we decided to pull it from the car fund. But then I chickened out.

Well, not really, but with the final two installments to our HOA, our faith-promise, and the conference registration deadline all looming, the reality of allocating a total of six months of car savings elsewhere started to make me uneasy. As I sat at my computer with the conference website open, I just couldn't bring myself to type in my debit card number. And yet, I felt so strongly that God was calling me to go, and the go-ahead from my typically frugal husband only reinforced that feeling. Confused and conflicted, I tried to rationalize a solution. Obviously, I couldn't do anything about the HOA bill, so I sat at my desk weighing our faith-promise, the conference, and my anxiety. Had our faith-promise pledge been too ambitious? Was the pull I felt toward the conference just wishful thinking? Or was I simply worrying too much?

As I prayed and pondered, the answer to all of those questions was, "no." In my heart, I knew we had to honor our faith-promise commitment, and yet, the pull to go to the conference was undeniable. Unable to comfortably reconcile those two things, I stopped trying to. I clicked the conference website closed, pushed back my chair, and literally threw up my hands in surrender. "Okay God, I can't figure this out. I'm leaving it up to you. If I'm meant to go to this conference, you're going to have to show me how to do it or ease my anxiety about spending the money."

If I made that sound like it was easy, it wasn't. I went to bed confused and disappointed. My husband works evenings, so I couldn't even talk through my concerns with him. But the next morning, when I wandered into the kitchen to pour my super-sized glass of iced tea, he said he had picked up the mail on his way home the night before and there was something in the HOA newsletter about a change in the state-mandated project. Still sleepy and sluggish, I stared dumbly at the article and had to read it several times before it sunk in. A new state law had made the project unnecessary, and while some of the funds we'd already paid had been spent in preparation for the project, some of it would be returned. More importantly, we were no longer liable for the final two installments. The one part of the equation I thought couldn't change had changed overnight, and the amount we'd planned to allocate to the final two installments of the HOA bill easily covered the cost of the conference.

Thankful and giddy, I had no idea that God wasn't even done yet. Fast forward to just a few weeks ago. On a whim, I sent in some old silver and gold jewelry to goldstashforcash.com. Don’t feel bad if you're snickering because I was skeptical of the whole "cash for gold" craze myself, but goldstashforcash.com is endorsed by Dave Ramsey, so I knew they were a credible business. I gathered up all my broken, outdated, and tarnished jewelry and sent it off with absolutely no expectations. My husband and I joked about it for a couple of days and tried to guess how much "cash" I'd get for my "stash." My guess was $200.00, but really, I had no idea how much my stuff was worth, and would have been satisfied with $50.00. Imagine my surprise when the check arrived a few days later, and there were four numbers on the left of the decimal. In fact, it was just shy of three months' car savings.

If you've gotten lost in the math, let me help you out a little. We were originally looking at six months of car savings allocated elsewhere. But with the HOA project canceled and my unexpected windfall, our total outlay for the faith-promise, conference, and the small amount that went to our HOA was $50.00 less than our car savings for one month. I guess that's why they call it a "faith-promise."

As thankful as I am, I had reservations about publishing this particular post because I don't want to imply that God is some sort of fairy godfather who magically grants wishes. This particular gift is tangible and easily measurable, but it's also so much more. God brought me to a place where I couldn't find a comfortable solution and gave me the faith to leave it in His hands. He chose to make it possible for me to go to the conference and to make it abundantly clear that it was a calling, but He could just as easily have answered my prayer by granting me peace in either foregoing the conference or spending the extra money. God doesn't always give us exactly want we want or expect, but He is no man's debtor and richly blesses those who put their faith in Him.

I Am a Witness

God recently performed an amazing work in the life of someone close to me. It was so remarkable that merely witnessing it was a gift. The details are not mine to share, but I hope it's evident in every post that my focus here is not on the details surrounding the gifts, but on the nature of the Giver. The gifts point to God, and my purpose in discussing them is to acknowledge the source and glorify Him.

I walked alongside someone for over a year as they faced turmoil, grief, and uncertainty. A fellow Christian, this person prayed about her situation, sought guidance from scripture, spent time in self-examination, and made earnest attempts to change things for the better. In summary, she acted in good faith to address the cause of her pain, and yet it all came to nothing. My own efforts were even less productive. Though I too sought to view the circumstances from a Biblical perspective, there was nothing I could do to effect any change. I could only listen, empathize, encourage, and pray. There was nothing else to be done. The best human efforts had failed. It was apparent that only God could provide any measure of relief, and it seemed His response throughout months of prayers was, "No." So I watched, frustrated, heartbroken, and helpless, as things spiraled downward toward tragedy.

And then, when all seemed utterly hopeless, God suddenly intervened. In an instant, everything changed. She literally went to bed one evening in a state of despair and woke to find that God had not only made things better, but had completely redeemed the situation. God had done "immeasurably more" than we could imagine. The change has been so stunning that in the midst of my joy, I find that I am still adjusting to the new reality because it is so different from what I thought possible.

But God is not limited by what we consider possible, and if, in His providence, He chooses to delay, our lack of understanding should not cause us to doubt or lose hope. I am not suggesting that waiting for His answer is easy. On the contrary, it can be difficult and discouraging, but in His wisdom, God chooses when and how to intervene, and though I have often been perplexed, I have not ever had sufficient grounds to doubt His faithfulness.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my favorite scene in the movie The African Queen. As Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart make their treacherous journey down the Ulanga river toward Lake Victoria they come to a place where the river all but disappears. Though they know the river eventually pours into Lake Victoria, all that is visible from their vantage point is a maze of marshes. The water becomes so shallow they are forced to get out of the boat and pull it by hand as they attempt to navigate through the swamps. When the boat becomes bogged down in the mire and they can go no further, they are convinced all hope is lost. Disheartened, exhausted, and unable to find their way, they collapse into the boat. Katherine Hepburn's character, a missionary, offers up a prayer, but is so certain of their fate, it is a funereal prayer--she doesn't even ask God to deliver them. Indeed, all does seem hopeless, but as the camera pans back, the audience can see the heroes are only a few hundred yards from the free-flowing river. The fact that they are unable to see it doesn't change the fact that the river is there, but despite their best efforts they have been unable to find their way to higher water on their own. And then, in an instant, everything changes. It begins to rain, and when they awake they find their boat has become dislodged and has drifted into the river. Better still, they can see Lake Victoria in the distance. They have not only been rescued from tragedy, but are in sight of what they are seeking.

The parallels between this scene and what I recently witnessed are striking. The river was there all along, but she was unable to get to it on her own. When all human strivings had failed, God redeemed the situation in a moment, and there can be no question as to the source of her deliverance.

A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

This past week marked the celebration of both Mother's Day and my son's birthday. Any attempt to describe what a blessing my son is to me would wear out my keyboard and deplete my vocabulary, so I'm not even going to try. However, one of the blessings of parenthood is that it gives us a better understanding of God's love for us. Through Christ, we are God's beloved children, and our love for our children gives us a taste of the immensity, depth, and steadfast nature of God's love for us.

My love for Zack is unchangeable and unwavering. No amount of disobedience, failure, foolishness, or mistakes will ever diminish my love for him. And though I cheer him on through triumphs and am pleased when he makes the right choices, neither of those things make me love him any more, because I love him all the time, just the same.

I rejoice when he rejoices, and my heart aches for him when he is anxious or sad. I enjoy being with him, laughing with him, and watching him master new skills and ideas. I do my best to help him discover his God-given talents and encourage him to pursue and develop them. I want to know what's on his heart and mind—good or bad. I can appreciate the position expressed in Isaiah 49:25, "I will contend with those that contend with you."

It brings me great pleasure to make him happy and fulfill his wishes, and yet I often withhold seemingly good things he wants because I know they won't be good for him in the long run. In short, his welfare, his growth, and his future are always in the forefront of my mind. Sometimes that means I have to discipline him, disappoint him, or insist he do things he'd rather not…and often he doesn't appreciate or understand why because he is unable to see the big picture.

Of course, my love for Zack can only provide me with an imperfect image of a perfect God's perfect love, but it's still a good gift.

I'm No Cry Baby

Really, I’m not. I get sad and hurt just like everyone else, but it’s rare I cry about it. Not because I’m cold-hearted or brave; it’s just not my normal response. I’m more likely to cry from anger or exhaustion, but even then it has to be pretty extreme. I’m not particularly sentimental either, though I will admit to shedding a tear or two at the hands of Hallmark, a handful of sappy songs, and a few movies I was suckered into watching (OK, I sobbed during E.T. in 7th grade, but it was an isolated incident). Those sorts of tears are usually shed begrudgingly because I feel I’ve been manipulated, like someone jerked my emotions around for the sake of the emotion, and I get annoyed with myself for playing into it.

But there are tears that spring from a deeper well, and they invariably begin within the first verse or two of a hymn or praise song. Whether it's one of my favorites or one that I'd never choose, something about hearing and singing the words floods my soul with joy, and the tears just flow. And it's not sentimentality. The "story" of an innocent man suffering on a cross for the sake of others is Hollywood-quality sentimental gold, but to confess out loud that "it was my sin that held Him there" and "His wounds have paid my ransom" transcends sentimentality. It’s substantive, and it's personal. An audible confession of my great need and His great mercy. And it doesn't stop there. There are so many songs that beautifully express our weaknesses ("Just as I am...with many a conflict, many a doubt/fighting fears within, without…"), affirm His providence and faithfulness ("Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been/granted in what He ordaineth?"), rejoice in the beauty of His creation ("…I consider all that Your hands have made/every newborn's eyes, every new sunrise…"), and extol His majesty (“…only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee/perfect in power, in love, and purity”). There are more examples, of course, but the common thread through all of the songs is worship. My friend Maria summed it up nicely when she said, "it's the realization of who God is and what He has done" that moves us members of the Kleenex Club to tears.

Even so, I have often wished I could turn off the faucet. First of all, it's uncomfortable, and I don't mean lump-in-the-throat uncomfortable. Crying makes people uncomfortable, and spontaneous crying can leave people wondering how to respond. Which makes them uncomfortable. I think. Or maybe I just assume that. Either way, it makes me uncomfortable. In fact, it makes me so uncomfortable that I've developed all sorts of techniques over the years to disguise the tears (fanning myself, staring at the ceiling, pretending there is something in my eye, "allergies!"). Yes, I know I'm not fooling anyone, but thanks for playing along with me. Secondly, my ability to literally sing His praises is hindered when I have to pause to compose myself every few lines, and it's frustrating.

Still, I am certain my tears are a gift. Years ago, I pled my case to God, "please take these tears away; let me sing to You and of You without crying," and He answered that prayer. I stood in church the following Sunday and sang and felt…nothing. God was still there, of course, but my spirit was unmoved. I quickly retracted my prayer and resigned myself to a lifetime of smeared mascara. For whatever reason, God has hard-wired me to respond to worship with tears, so my tears must be God-ordained. Do they sometimes make me uncomfortable? Sure, but Jesus never said, "follow me, and you'll never feel uncomfortable." In fact, just the opposite is true, but mostly because we waste so much time and energy focusing on ourselves and how we are perceived rather than focusing on Christ. As for my desire to sing through a hymn without crying, it is apparently more important to me than it is to God. If God wanted me to sing, uninterrupted by tears, He'd make it possible. Since it rarely happens, I have to conclude that He values my tears more than my performance. So if you spot me with watery eyes and a red nose, chances are I’m fine. I'm merely expressing my love for God and gratitude for His love for me. So please join me in praising Him…and could you pass me a tissue?

My Son at the Cross

I count it a great blessing and privilege to work at school where we celebrate Easter break and gather together as a campus for a special Easter Chapel. At one point during Chapel yesterday, our principal simply played a recording of "Amazing Grace" and asked students to reflect upon Easter and pray. A church group had just finished a short play depicting the events surrounding the resurrection, and a wooden cross from their production remained on the stage. Students were given the option of praying in their seats or coming up to the foot of the cross to pray, and handfuls of students in grades K-8 took turns coming up to the cross. I love seeing and hearing children pray, but seeing my own son, kneeling at the cross with his head bent in earnest prayer, is an image that was burned into my heart yesterday, and I will treasure it always.

I will treasure it not merely because it was a poignant picture to tuck away in my memory, but because of the truths wrapped in the imagery. Indeed, Zack would have been just as close to Christ sitting in his seat, and his prayers would have been just as acceptable to God. The cross the children gathered around holds no power or significance apart from whom and what it represents, but seeing him kneeling there was a beautiful picture of my young son's relationship with Christ and his understanding of the gospel. I have no idea what words his prayer contained, but I do know he has accepted Christ and has an understanding (far beyond my understanding at his age) of what it means to be a child of God. I have many hopes, dreams, and prayers for my son, but that Zack would know and follow Christ has always been my greatest desire for him. God's answer to that prayer is precious to me, and the mental picture I now have of Zack at the foot of the cross is a gift.

Skating Through Life Epilogue

Anyone who knows me probably knows by now that I fell at the skating rink and ended up sporting an arm sling. That's right, I published a post on learning to skate the morning of the 19th and took a pretty good tumble that same evening. After spending Thursday night and most of the day Friday unable to fully extend or bend my left arm, grasp anything with my left hand, or otherwise use my left arm in routine ways (hmmmm...maybe I should have this checked out?) I finally relented and went to the doctor after work on Friday. As it turned out, I broke my elbow...a little. Basically, a bone in my forearm bumped into a bone in my elbow and chipped a piece off (it is somewhat disconcerting to know there is a piece of bone floating around inside me, but several of my nurse friends have assured me that it's okay). Apparently, the treatment for this type of injury is pretty simple. They gave me something to reduce the swelling and some very nice pain medication and put my arm in a sling. The doctor said it would take about four weeks to heal, but I could try taking the sling off after about a week. During that time, it was really amazing to see how inter-dependent our body parts are. I learned I had taken my left elbow for granted all these years and was especially surprised to discover that even tasks that didn't rely on my elbow directly could affect it indirectly (my "discovery" of these things was usually marked with an "owwww!").

I picked this week's featured gift Friday morning. After a week of flipping my head upside down to fix my hair and employing a variety of creative techniques to get dressed, I was positively giddy when I was able to lift my bent arm over my head and bend my arm behind my back. Our human bodies are imperfect and vulnerable, but our Creator has designed them with a vast capacity for healing. I am very thankful that mine is healing well and quickly.

p.s. I have to admit I was a bit sheepish about discussing the source of my injury at first. In addition to the blog post, I had shared the story with several people at work that morning, and there was a part of me that was afraid my setback could be seen as evidence I shouldn't have been skating in the first place. There was a nasty voice in my head that suggested God hadn't been calling me out of my comfort zone at all, or worse…He had called me out just to set me up for a literal fall. But in my heart, I knew that voice was wrong. A Father that loves me enough to redeem me for His own is not a Father that sets His children up to fail for the sake of failure. In His love He does allow them to experience pain, difficulty, trouble, and failure, but all within His perfect plan. If God is loving and sovereign--and I believe He is--my broken elbow was ordained by Him for a specific purpose. My challenge was to discern what I was to take away from the experience. In the process, I've discovered a few more "gifts" I need to share with you this week.

Though I fell hard enough to break a bone, I got back up and immediately continued skating. There was only enough time to go around once more, and I was determined I would not end the night with a fall. Afterwards, I even ran out on the rink in my socks to join a handful of middle school girls in "The Cupid Shuffle." I don't say this to boast. I'm stunned. A year ago, my reaction to the fall would have been anger, maybe tears, and a vow to never, ever, EVER go skating again. The fact that I didn't respond that way is proof of God at work in me. Cool.

The fear of injury fits right in with my fear of failure and lack of control. Getting injured is basically failure that hurts. Though God allowed this injury, He limited it to something relatively minor, and now that I've experienced "failure that hurts," I'm not so afraid of it anymore.

I've also learned that while it's important to exercise reasonable caution, the possibility of failure is not sufficient grounds to shy away from new experiences. For years, I've boasted of never breaking bone, but my clean injury record could be largely attributed to the fact that I rarely did anything. What a waste. This past week, several kids at the school where I work asked me how I hurt my arm, and I kind of liked being able to reply, "I was roller skating."

Skating Through Life

I've been skating through life. Oh, less than a year ago I would have denied it. I would have pointed to the countless tasks I juggled between home, family, church, and work and been quite indignant. But God was never fooled, and last fall I came to the unsettling, but unshakable, realization that my constant state of self-imposed busyness was a convenient excuse to dodge His call to step outside my comfort zone.

In my comfort zone, I am capable and competent and rarely make any mistakes. I pretty much know what to expect there, so it's easy to operate under the illusion that I'm in control. Success is key, so it's essential I stick to tasks that I consistently perform well. I will try new things, but will quickly abandon them if I don't catch on right away. Risk, failure, uncertainty, dependence, and vulnerability are all unwelcome. In short, the standard in my comfort zone is perfection, and I have served the idol of perfectionism for most of my life. As a result, I have limited my usefulness to God and foolishly trusted in my own efforts rather than God working in me and through me. Instead of serving God boldly, I have held back and avoided new experiences out of fear and a lack of faith.

Now God is pulling me out of my comfort zone and calling me to venture out in new directions. It's exciting, but it's a struggle. As much as I want to be obedient, I know I can't do it in my own strength and am prayerfully relying on Him to change me. It's a daily choice, a daily battle. A daily exercise in faith: serve God or serve the idol of perfectionism, and I'm still in training.

So when my friend Jen suggested we take our kids skating, I thought it would be a fun way to practice saying, "no" to perfectionism. I had given skating a try in junior high, but gave it up after an hour or two (failure!). But that was the old me, and I was determined to give it a try and not give up this time. The first night we went, I took my place on "the wall," shakily scooting along with a handful of kids that had a much shorter distance to fall. I felt anything but capable and competent and though I didn't fall, I really didn't do any actual skating, and I definitely wasn't in control. But it became sort of a quest for me, a challenge to persevere in something that didn't come easily. So I bought a pair of skates a few days later and skidded up and down the hallway on my hardwood floors for two nights in a row. By the next skate night, I was slow and unsteady and even fell once, but I was skating, and by the next one I was going fast enough to get tired and sore and only grabbing the wall (or Jen's arm) two or three times a lap.

So, yes, my good and perfect gift this week is learning to skate. On the surface, it seems pretty insignificant compared to the other things God is calling me to do, but the underlying principle is the same. God answered my prayer and enabled me to respond to a challenge in a way that was completely contrary to my nature. With His help, I faced fear, persevered through failure, and refused to be a slave to perfectionism...and all I had to do was ask.

Gospel Fest Grab Bag

This past Friday I attended Gospel Fest at Fredericksburg Christian High School. The gospel choir (over 100 men, women, teens, and children) led the hundreds of people gathered there in two hours of praise to God. Before I even got in my car to head home, I knew what I had just experienced would be this week's topic. However, I've had some trouble picking one particular gift related to the event to feature, and each time I've reflected on the evening, I've come up with another one. Since I can't seem decide which gift to talk about (and since a fun, but whirlwind weekend is quickly drawing to a close) I'm just going to list them. Here goes…

• Each of us is given a unique blend of talents and skills, and I am certain all the members of the choir, the musicians, and the director would agree that their musical ability is gift from the God who rejoices over us with singing. As with many gifts from our Father, it is one to be shared. Their talent is a blessing to both them and all who hear it.
• Our God is worthy of praise. As children of this mighty God, we are given His Spirit, and the Holy Spirit moves us to praise Him. Anyone who is not moved to praise Him has no knowledge of Him. The desire to praise and worship God is a gift freely given, but one that only He can provide.
• As our hearts overflow with praise, our Father gives us so many ways to express our love for Him. I can't begin to list them all, but on Friday, praise was expressed through prayer, words, music, and song and with voices, hands, and feet. I didn't know all the words to the songs, but I could join in praise with the choir by clapping, swaying, or taking in the lyrics.
• It is such a blessing when God gathers His children together in sweet fellowship to glorify His name and share in the joy of His presence. Such gatherings are a taste of Heaven.
• Finally, every person I saw on Friday night was an encouragement to me and a testimony of God's faithfulness. We are all imperfect people with imperfect lives, and yet the joy of the Lord abounds within us.

The Gift of Gail

I have to backtrack a little bit because I really want to share the experience that inspired me to start this blog. In December of 2009, I had to have a follow-up mammogram, which led to a needle biopsy being scheduled for January. Though the doctor assured me it was "probably nothing...just a precaution…and easily treatable" if it was something, I knew they wouldn't be looking if cancer wasn't at least a possibility.

Still, I trusted the doctor and could even see the teeny tiny micro-calcifications on the mammogram film, and they didn't look so scary. This allowed me to focus almost all of my anxiety on the procedure itself, and I had plenty of anxiety to work with. If you ever have to go through the procedure, let me assure you right now that it doesn't hurt--honest--but when words like needle, incision, and tissue samples start getting thrown around, I get dizzy and queasy and the recurring mini-panic attacks begin. Reading through the pamphlet the nurse gave me when I made my appointment only made things worse. As thankful as I am for the amazing medical technology we have available today, I couldn't help thinking the procedure sounded like something Dr. No would use to extract information from James Bond…though I guess it wouldn't really work with Mr. Bond, but you get the idea.

Of course, one of the first things I did was email a few close friends to ask them to pray (their prayers and support were certainly "good and perfect gifts," but I'll have to save that for another post). One of those friends shared my concerns and phone number with Gail, a good friend of hers who happened to be a mammogram technician at a doctor's office and also happened to be a recent breast cancer survivor. Gail called me that evening, and we talked for a long time. I was happy to hear her echo the doctor's assurances, and we talked through all the things I was concerned about. She said she would be praying for me, and by the time we ended our call, I had gained a new friend.

The day before my biopsy appointment, someone from the hospital called to tell me the machine that allows patients to lie down during the procedure was out of order so I would have to be sitting upright during the biopsy. This was particularly unappealing to me since I knew that would mean the machine would literally be right in front of my face. The morning of my appointment, I was outwardly calm, but in between silent prayers, I was grasping for an excuse to skip out on the appointment (I knew this was a futile exercise since my husband was driving me to the hospital, but you can't blame a girl for trying). After arriving at the office where my original appointment was scheduled, we were told we'd have to go upstairs since they had to use the dreaded upright machine.

When I arrived at the check-in desk, I was surprised to see Gail standing behind the friendly receptionist. Apparently, she was just dropping off films from the practice where she worked, and was on her way back to the office. She smiled and assured me the procedure would go smoothly, and she would be praying for me. Our encounter lasted 5, maybe 10 seconds, and we exchanged very few words, but I knew she understood. She understood--both professionally and personally--what I was about to experience and could relate to all of my anxious thoughts. As she left, and I readied myself for the procedure, I took great solace in knowing she was likely praying for me at that moment, and that served as a powerful reminder that many others were doing the same. Admittedly, I was still nervous, but was comforted by the certainty that I was not alone. I had just been given a gift from God. It was as if He was saying, "I've got this. I know you're afraid, but I've prepared the way, and I'm here." And though I was encouraged by many other people, I cannot imagine a better person God could have sent to encourage me that morning.

I am happy to report the micro-calcifications were not cancerous. Looking back, I know I'll never know God's purpose in my experience, but I know the Bible tells us we will surely encounter things we'd rather not. However, it also tells us that God loves us as His precious children and is with us--always. God's gift to me that morning was a powerful and timely reminder of that truth.

Diving Into Gifts Galore

As Christians, we know we are God's children, but it is almost impossible to grasp the tremendous blessing and privilege associated with being a child of God. To imagine being the son or daughter of the world's wealthiest, wisest, most generous and loving father is to draw a useful, but pitifully inadequate comparison. Our Heavenly Father is no less than the creator of all things, His love for us is immeasurable, and His wisdom is unsearchable. And though it pleases Him to lavish us with His love, He cannot be manipulated, cajoled, or fooled, and His love is not marred by such human weaknesses as pride, fear, guilt, or self-doubt.

Though nothing we can ever possess or aspire to could make us worthy of such love, He chooses to shower us with a multitude of "good and perfect gifts:" His son, our salvation, our faith, our acceptance into His family, His word, His spirit, all of history and creation, our lives, our experiences, our relationships, our talents and skills, our very selves. All things flow through Him, and since He is present in every moment, He also delights in surprising us with unexpected tokens of His affection as we go about our daily routines. Whether they are wrapped in a brief encounter or a few words, these tiny treasures bear witness to the fact that God knows us, loves us, and takes a personal interest in our lives.

And yet, as children of a loving, gracious Father who is rich in mercy and able to do "immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine," we often fail to recognize the abundance of blessings we receive or are reluctant to bring our requests before our Father. So often, we either display an attitude of entitlement, or we pout in disbelief (either because we did not receive what we thought we should, or because we convince ourselves that our desires are either too big or too small to trouble our Father with). As one who stands guilty of both transgressions, I have to recognize that the former demonstrates a lack of thankfulness, and the latter reveals a wavering faith in God's compassion, power, plan, and wisdom.

One of the purposes of this little writing project is to challenge both presumption and doubt by being more aware of the gifts that flow from our Father and sharing my thoughts on a particular blessing in my life every few weeks. Ultimately, however, the greatest gift is God Himself, and though we can never fully comprehend His majesty, the good and perfect gifts we receive from Him offer us a glimpse of who He is and who we are in Him. If we choose to ignore, deny, belittle, doubt, or take these gifts for granted, we miss the opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of God and to dwell nearer to Him. I don't want to miss it.