A Worthy Obsession

It is amazing how obsessed we are with being obsessed with things. How often we obsess over our homes, dietary habits, workout routines, appearances, and children. And though these are not unworthy causes, they are hardly worthy of the frantic energy we throw into keeping them alive?  Are we expending more energy to the care and feeding of our earthly obsessions than we are in storing up heavenly treasures? 

Somewhere in the frenetic pace of our lives we have forgotten the words of Jesus in Matthew 6:19-21, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth…but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven…For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (KJV)  No interpretation necessary. So I have to stop and ask myself where my treasure is.  Is it in good health, social status, and my shoe closet?  Or is it hidden with Christ in God?

Remember the story of the rich young ruler (Mark 10:17-22) who just wasn’t able to let go of his obsession with possessions in order to follow Jesus.  He seemed so desperate to inherit eternal life.   He came to Jesus searching to ensure he would gain it. He was doing so much right.  But when he was told to abandon the earthly treasures and start storing up heavenly ones by giving the earthly ones to the poor, he couldn’t do it.  He walked away.

I find that story astonishing. You likely do too. How could anyone just walk away from eternal life?  Then I catch myself thinking more about the 300^th pair of shoes I want instead of the kids that don’t have shoes at all…and I realize that it’s not that hard to get sidetracked with possessions.  In truth, I don’t need the new shoes, the brand name foods, the gym membership, or new throw pillows.  My job is to adequately care for my family and actively help the needy.  It’s as simple as that.  As simple as being obsessed with the things Jesus is. 

So I’m busy growing again.  Learning to be obsessed with the things Jesus was--lost souls, loving my neighbor, portraying Christ, being concerned with the needy.  It’s not easy. I don’t come by it naturally.  Every day I have to rein myself in and make myself prioritize properly.  In that light, I pray that I will be overtaken by Jesus from the inside out.  I pray that his love will flow through me and affect those around me for him. I pray that I will be obsessed with making a difference for Jesus.  Most of all, I pray that I will become possessed by God’s obsessions.

Are you obsessed with possessions or does Jesus possess you to the point that his obsessions are yours? 

The Joy of Recovery

            What would it be like if we were all completely honest when we walk into church?  What if we were all comfortable enough to just stand up and identify our faults, whatever our struggle?  How fantastic would it be to just stand up and state, “I am struggling with anger (or whatever the issue is) today.”  Even better, how comforting would it be to stand up in church, small group, or prayer meeting, say these things, and receive a response not of judgment, but of prayer.  So why don’t we do this?  Why do we teach folks to treat their spiritual battles and short comings as dirty little secrets?  What would happen in our hearts if our church services were more like a recovery group meeting (think AA), and less like a secret society?

            And why aren’t they?  We are all recovering sinners, each addicted to our own vices.  We could all benefit from the accountability of the group.  The thing that hinders us the most is the inability to show our weakness for fear of being judged as unchristian and evicted from the secret society of the church?  Shame on us as a church, that we are more willing to evict our fellow Christians than to help mend and strengthen them.  It is unconscionable.  It is unacceptable.  Most importantly, it is not Biblical.

            Toward the end of the book of James, we are admonished, “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed…” (James 5:16 KJV) Did you hear that?  Not a word about a special phrase, a secret handshake, or a dress code. No secret society.  Just a simple directive to bare our hearts to one another. Confess your faults, issues, battles, vices one to another, not so you can be judged, but so you can be covered in prayer, be healed, be stronger, be victorious—be recovered. 

            I am not a perfect Christian. I have faults.  Sometimes I cave to anger, envy, fear, pride. I’m not always as strong as I wish I were.  I fail to depend on God as much as I should.  I crave the type of spiritual interaction that James admonishes us to have--the honesty, the openness, the reality.  I covet the prayers of my Godly friends.  Sometimes I don’t even know where to start and my brokenness yields only the words, “Help me”.  In that moment, the prayers of others are so important to me that words fail my attempt to convey it.  My soul cries out for the healing brought about by these prayers—restoration, rejuvenation, recovery.

            So I pray these things.  May we stop treating church like a secret society. Give up the pretense on Sunday morning and just be the broken, needy people God loves. May we break free of our inhibitions. You can’t get to Heaven on someone else’s opinion anyway.  May we find the inner fortitude to be real with one another.  (Inner fortitude = God) May we find the freedom to be healed of our faults. Overall, may we discover the joy of recovery. 

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