Being Defined by God

            Humanity spends countless hours attempting to define themselves.  I’ve done it.  You have too.  It’s important to us.  We need to know ourselves, understand who and what we are.  The knowledge somehow seems to anchor us. Sadly, we tend to think we are defined by our careers, our talents, our accomplishments. But those are just the things we do. Our true definition is so much more. It is found by peering into Jesus' eyes, the great looking glass of Heaven, and seeing ourselves as Jesus does. 

         Ever wonder how God sees you?  Check out the account of the woman with the blood disorder in Mark 5: 24-34.  She couldn’t have been pretty.  Disease had ravaged her body. She probably hadn’t worked for years. Who can work without strength?  Her money was gone, wasted on so many useless physicians. Her hopes were few, her desperation deep. Desperation that caused her to crawl through a crowd in search of a cure. Her physical healing came when faith caused her to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment, but the best was yet to come.

         She peered into Heaven's looking glass and got the surprise of her life. In spite of her physical appearance, lack of employment, or non-existent accomplishments, Jesus defined her. He told her how he saw her.  He let everyone know she was family. He called her, “Daughter…”

            How fantastic.  How amazing.  Who could ask for a better definition? For me, there are few words I love to hear fall off God’s tongue toward me more than the word, “Daughter”.  It is where I came from.  It is who I am.  It is my sole, most important identifier.  I am God’s daughter.  Amazingly beautiful and enormously overwhelming, it is a thought to ponder when I feel bereft, a bolstering promise when I feel less than courageous.   The constancy of my place in God’s world is my anchor when life’s storms rage out of control.  Our relationship is my past, present and future.

            Sometimes I lose touch with my true definition. I get frazzled.  I get stressed.  Sometimes the jobs I hold run together and obscure the original definition of who I am.  I get so involved being a wife, mom, housekeeper, chauffeur, and cook that I forget those things do not define me. It is then that I have to take some time and refocus on the magnificent reality of who I truly am.  That knowledge is peace, confidence, hope, and faith.   I am God’s daughter.  It is the best I could ever attain.

            If you’ve never heard God call you his child, one of the most amazing experiences of your life awaits you.  Truly, the best is yet to come.

Loving Lavishly

I am entirely, unquestionably, unapologetically tired of labels.  You know the ones.  Those little barbs of disrespect strategically tossed in an effort to highlight others alleged shortcomings while keeping our own enshrouded.  Addict. Prostitute. Divorcee. Single parent. Gay. Radical. Liberal. There are a million more. They are lavishly attired judgments masquerading as identifiers. They carry stigmas that damage the heart, alienate friends, and estrange relationships. They can crush the soul.

Why do we use them?  Is it so much more difficult to say “the lady with the beautiful smile” than it is to say “the addict in the corner”?  Could not both be true of the same individual?  Are we so desperately insecure that we feel compelled to verbally eviscerate other’s reputations in an unbridled attempt to secure our place in society?  Are we really that pathetic?  Apparently.

We troll through life making sure our elbows rub only the proper ones and that our children never come in contact with the undesirable.  We hide our own secrets and try to uncover everyone else’s.  We are in a desperate race to be the last one standing with their secrets still intact—and for what? Is there a grand prize for the one who has the most hidden secrets in the end?  I’m thinking “no” since King Solomon, in his grand dissertation on meaning, stated in Ecclesiastes 12:14 that every work and every secret thing will be brought to judgment, whether good or evil.  No prize, just a great unveiling.

So I petition for total honesty—with ourselves and with one another. I make no apology for who I am and the events of my life.  I accept that they are unchangeable. I know I am forgiven. I comprehend that those events do not define me.  They enhance me. They make me better able to look past the label on another and accept them for the person God created. They allow me to see potential in myself and others. They compel me to love like Jesus would.  Indiscriminately.

This by no means indicates that I approve or endorse habits that flout God’s law, I do not.  It simply means that God has pressed upon me to love boundlessly.  Love him wholeheartedly.  Love others unrestrainedly.  Nowhere in my Bible have I found permission to judge others on their indiscretions, past or present.  Nor have I found an instance where God did not love the ones he so lovingly created. I have only found that I am to love Him so much that it flows back through me and touches everyone I meet.  It is a journey, a growing process.  It has given birth to a new prayer that I pray for myself and my church. 

“Father, help us to be so enamored with you, so desperately in love with you, that your love fills us, flows out of us, and touches everyone with whom we come in contact.  Make us magnets for you.”  With this in mind, it is my goal to love as lavishly as the Father by loving the Father lavishly. 

The Runaway

Being a spiritual runaway is exhausting.  Trust me, I know.  The questions that don't have answers, the fears you don't want to face, and the persistent emptiness of life all add up to a lot of worthless scrambling that leaves you lonely and discontent.  The only cure is to come back to the Father's house.  I'm clueless why we balk about it. Why we are so reticent to exchange pressure for peace, fear for faith, loneliness for love? 

It was pretty rocky for me when I first came back, mostly because I was busy paying the price for the lousy choices I made out there on my own.  I was also busy working out my own salvation and trying to decide which God was real--the one standing around every corner waiting to bash me over the head if I misstepped or the one who loved me immeasurably because of what I was, not in spite of it.  I'd heard plenty about the first one, but not so much about the second.  Turns out, the first character isn't God at all.  So I learned that God IS love.

I'm still learning.  Every day is a new lesson in faith, love, grace, patience, and God's character.  I feel like the Apostle Paul when he said something to the effect of, "Not that I have attained or am already perfect...I press toward the mark for the prize..." Yep.  That's me.  Still working on it. Still learning. 

So that's the idea behind this blog, sharing what I learn along the way.  Although I did spend a couple years in Bible college, I am not a preacher, teacher or theologian.  I'm more along the lines of people like Jonah who ran from his calling, Sarah who laughed at God's ideas, and Peter who caved to the opinions of others and denied knowing Jesus. The good news is that Jonah, Sarah, Peter and I all finally figured out our errors and corrected them. 

I have no qualms with being God's prodigal daughter--it means I've tried the other stuff and know it's not for me but it makes me able to understand others who feel the need to try it. It means I know who I am, where I came from, where I'm going, and who my best travelling Companion is.  It also means that my black robe and gavel were placed in the dumpster out back, because that's not my job. 

That being said, my prayer for you is to be real, be blessed, be loved...and that you pay those things forward.

The Returned Runaway