Obedience Gives Me Courage, The Prequel

"Obedience gives me courage," she says. Somehow this seems ripe for a sequel...or, perhaps, a prequel...which is just my fancy way of saying, "I think I'm supposed to come clean about all the fear and courage stuff." 

You want to know what has always scared me the most? 

Singing in front of people. 

Guess what the Lord asked me to do just a little over a decade ago? 

Sing in front of people. 

"Ahh! Are you serious, Lord? Really? ...Anything but that!"

"Yes, I am serious." Insert long conversation with God that ends in Him asking... "How will you ever look your children in the eyes and tell them they can trust me if you will not trust me?" 

Well, that rendered me speechless. Yes, speechless. Nothing is impossible with God.

"Wait..." you say. "Haven't you been singing on worship teams for years?"

Yes, I have. 

I wrote the original obedience post on the eve of preparing to lead worship...as in, I was to play the piano and be the lead vocalist...for a large women's event and I found myself nose to nose with fear once again. As I prayed throughout that day, the Lord reminded me of who He is...mighty, loving, holy, faithful, always near....worthy of my trust.

If you've ever been held back by fear, you may find encouragement in this testimony of God's faithfulness. 

Here's the whole story...

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My biggest fear since...well even before...high school was singing and playing the piano in front of others. I'm pretty sure the desperate pounding of my heart and the feeling of all the air being sucked out of my lungs drowned out any actual thought as to why I was afraid. The terror just took hold. Much of it had to do with perfectionism, I am sure. Fear of failure. "What if I mess up?" Assessing risks. "If there's any chance I might not be perfect I will not even try. I don't want to be humiliated." 

It was sometime during my junior year that I literally skipped my afternoon piano recital because I was too terrified to play in front of...who?...a bunch of other music students and perhaps a smattering of parents. The pieces had to be memorized. Again...what if I messed up? Somehow there was nothing more shameful. So I went across the street to the music building at my high school, walked into the choir room, sat down calmly and played my recital pieces to no one. I played with heart and a true love for every note, every chord...for the sheer complexity of what two hands and weeks of practice could achieve. It was wonderful...and free...and fearless. 

But this was the choir room. My safe place....where I could just be one of the altos....and occasionally lead with the piano as we did our vocal warm ups. I was never asked to do a solo...and would have died right there in my chair if anyone would have even suggested I try one. But singing...yes, I loved singing! Loved the sound of sweet harmonies ebbing and flowing. One of the group. Blending in. Never really...heard.

So after high school I gave up music. Pursuing it in college would have meant...gasp!...auditioning. Easiest decision ever. "Uhhh...NO!"

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Fast forward almost 20 years... 

Married with three children. I began to long for a piano. The old family upright wasn't even in the family anymore, so I began to pray for a piano, was going to put an ad in the paper for one. "Wanted: That lonely piano in your living room that is only being used to hold family photos and knick knacks." You know what I mean....lovely piano as a display piece that no one plays. Such a travesty!

Within months...maybe it was just weeks, I can't really remember...but this I do remember: A man at my church walked out one Sunday after service and said to all of us standing there, "Would anyone like a piano? We have two and need to get rid of one of them." Free? "Yes, free." 

It makes me smile to think of how little, then, I really knew this miracle-working God who had just answered my prayer.

Days later the piano was delivered and I wasted no time in digging out old sheet music, honing old favorites, and working on my sight reading by playing through a Maranatha Praise book. For many months, every night after the kids were tucked in and every day while they were at school, I would worship at the piano for hours. Such a joy to sing to the Lord...to play for the Lord...in the privacy of my own living room.

But the safety of my own private heaven was not to last. Through a series of what I like to call "stepping stone" events, I was asked to consider joining another woman...soon to be dear friend...in leading worship for our church's women's Bible study. My first response to this request of, "Would you like to play the piano and sing with me?" was "Uh..no!" Translation: "Are you crazy?!" But then the above mentioned conversation with God occurred and I knew I had to say yes even though the mere thought left me shaking in my shoes and, literally, sitting at the piano praying that the Lord would be teach me.

So began the journey of the reluctant worship leader. Practicing endlessly... piano parts, harmonies, even practicing something to sing for sound checks. "Sound checks?" Yes. Sound check time scared me to death! This is when I would have to sing in the mic all by myself so the speaker levels could be set. ALL BY MYSELF! WITH EVERYONE LISTENING! Commence rapid heart rate and tummy elevator careening to the basement...air in lungs...gone! 

It's always been the singing that scared me the most. I do not, nor have I ever had any desire to sing by myself in front of anyone. Ever. 

But when it comes to Jesus the songs just well up. Worship is a part of me. Singing to Him is as natural as breathing. In this context it is not performance, it is praising my King. 

In this the Lord said "Go!" and I knew I must obey. Thus began a long season of scouring the word for His promises of "be not afraid, I go before you always." 

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I've been clinging to these promises for over a decade of being on and off various worship teams. Through it all He has proven Himself faithful; faithful to be with me while I forged ahead through stomach aches (and other anxiety induced bodily functions), through jitters beforehand, or even crazy fear welling up suddenly in the middle of an otherwise relaxed worship set, and now, thirteen years later, while leading worship all by myself...albeit, in a small, intimate setting. It's been baby steps of obedience. Lots and lots and lots of baby steps and incredible stretching...miles beyond any self-defined comfort zone.

Bottom line? I love God. I love to worship Him. I desire to obey Him. And...He's given me new eyes. He's taught me to look out on a Sunday, or a Thursday night, or with the Tuesday morning ladies and see my family...my brothers and sisters in Christ...who need to see Him, to be in His presence, to surrender, repent, be healed. He's given me a deep love for my church family that far outweighs my fear...that's more important than my fear. 

It's not a new message: Consider others' needs above your own (Phil 2:3,4), but we don't usually associate it with overcoming fear. 

Why I even get to serve in worship ministry is still beyond me, but I have learned to rest in His character, His call, and in the promise that He will equip me.  

So do I rehearse? Yes. Still somewhat endlessly...till my tired voice and achy hands remind me that I'll have no voice or strength the next day if I don't stop. I never want to be careless in serving the Lord. He is worthy of my best; of diligent preparation...pray, practice, repeat. 

Am I ever still afraid? Yes. But at the end of the day, or more appropriately, as I walk toward the keyboard, I know that the results are all up to Him. And I don't entirely mean how I do with the singing or the playing...

Here are the important questions: Did the Spirit move in the hearts of those who were lifting their voices to the Lord...including my own? Did He find a soft spot in a hardened heart? Did a wall crumble? Was love poured out lavishly to one who was longing? Did the Lord bring comfort...or healing? Were eyes opened to see Him as bigger and more powerful than they'd ever imagined? Were eyes opened for the very first time to His goodness and grace?

These are the results that matter. Was God glorified? This is why I've chosen to push through the fear for all these years. The Lord desires that His children enter into the promised land of His presence, into fullness of life in Him, and it's an incredibly humbling to even get to be a part of that. I don't need to be perfect as long as others see Him who is perfect. Worshiping in song is a powerful thing.  

As I've seen Him work in and through me in this battle against fear, my courage has grown. He promised to never leave me nor forsake me, and He has been true to His word. 

The craziest discovery has been that these lessons of obedience in the face of fear have had only a little to do with leading worship. 

In hindsight, the Lord has shown me that they've had everything to do with continually taking me to the edge so that my faith could learn to leap, then to soar. 

Why? Because He knew that there were challenging events ahead that would require great faith, that would tempt me to run in fear, or to just hunker down in selfishness.  

And for the sake of very important relationships in my life I would need to learn obedience, overcome fear, let faith be stretched. I would really need to know my big God...not just know about Him, but know Him; to invest in my relationship with Him. This happened by having to take Him at His word in those leaps of faith over and over again. 

Worship ministry was my training ground for bigger battles. 

Battles have a way of leaving their marks upon us, don't they? Here are a few that are burned into my heart: When I obey...in the power and strength of His life in me...He is my courage. And in deep thankfulness for all that He is and all that He's done, I am willing to be courageous. 

Willing because He's with me. 

Willing because He's worthy.

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On the night of the women's event as the time for worship drew near, I found myself overwhelmed by a flood of fear, worse than I'd known in many years. Heart pounding, trouble breathing, scattered thoughts... I looked at my dear friends around the table, shared my fear and asked them to pray with me. We joined hands, bowed our heads, and then something wonderful happened. Even as I began to speak, praising the Lord and asking Him to do battle, an amazing calm began pouring over me, into me, through me...literally washing away the fear. Heart and breath returned to normal and I walked up to the keyboard filled with peace. 

What are you afraid of? 

How has the Lord shown up as you've faced your fears?

Obedience Gives Me Courage

Have you ever been on a mind ramble...meditating on weighty things...when a thought pierces through the maze? 

"Obedience gives me courage." 

As I half prayed over, half mulled over some specific circumstances today, this suddenly lit up like a mental neon sign. "Obedience gives me courage..." In my mind it immediately fleshed out to: 

Whenever I have chosen obedience I might start out shaking in my boots, but in the end I have found courage in the Lord's nearness...a tangible knowing that His power has come to rest upon me. 

How many times I have described the walk of faith to others... "First you must step out, then He comes in with power... in ways you didn't expect. Then you come to know Him in ways you never did before." Know, know. The type of knowing that cannot be rocked or shaken. But first, you must step.

Obedience.

Knowing truth on a page is not the same as knowing truth. This type of knowing comes from experience. Stepping out in what you know so that you'll really know. 

Fear has without a doubt been my biggest nemesis over the years. Obedience has been the cure. Obedience in pursuing Him, obedience to a change of direction toward the truth of His word or in stepping out to actually do something He's called me to do. In the face of fear, these have been my "resist the devil and he will flee" strategies. 

Logical, you might say. But to one more often paralyzed by fear than not, logic didn't have the upper hand. Truth was mostly just on the page. 

But as I did begin to pursue Him in earnest something began to change. As I started really meditating on my God and His many admonitions of "fear not for I am with you," I knew that I was at a crossroads. Would I believe Him or my fear? Would I make a stand in the truth or keep running in fear forever? There was a shift in my thinking that demanded action. Faith must bear fruit or it is not really faith. And I will never forget the night God asked me, "How will you ever look your children in the eye and tell them they can trust me if you won't trust me?" Yikes! It was go time.

Faith demands action, not merely assent. I believe must mean therefore I will do, walk in, rely on or it is not belief. Not faith in my faith, but faith in Him. Trust in truth. Stepping out because He will never leave me nor forsake me. (Hebrews 13:5) I've loved trusting that promise. 

Deuteronomy 31:8 captures it fully: The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.

The Lord goes before us in the things He's calling us to, so when we choose obedience He will be there...always. It doesn't get any better than that. 

I want to choose obedience today...and in all those things mulled over. And I thank Him ahead of time for courage.

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Do you struggle with fear? How has the Lord given you courage?

In Dependence Day

On this 4th of July, 2013, I am so grateful for our country’s freedoms and for the thousands of men and women, families and children who have given their lives and their loved ones to secure freedom and peace in our land. This must never be taken for granted. We, as a nation and as individuals, are forever in your debt.

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In a spirit of continued gratitude I must also say: Lord, thank you for always leading me to that which leads me back to you. On this day when we as a nation celebrate our independence, I declare my sole dependence on You. And so I write...

Am I proud to be an American? I confess that my patriotism has always led me more to thankfulness. I am so very thankful to be an American, to have been born in a country of relative peace where there is still great freedom and opportunity. As I reflect I would have to say that my gut response to being an American has been one of deep responsibility. “To whom much is given, much is expected.”

I still remember so clearly...

It was 24 years ago in early June. I was sitting in the living room of our little two bedroom house as the sun stole it’s way here and there between the canopy of lovely maple trees that adorned our tiny lot. By the standards of the “American Dream” I didn’t have much. But half a world away in China’s Tiananmen Square thousands of protesting students were being gunned down and plowed over by tanks, the horror of it in glaring juxtaposition to the peace of my little neighborhood, the quiet of my house, the smallness of my daily worries.

I remember crying out to God on their behalf. Praying for the end of the bloodshed and asking, “Why?” Not the why that is typical…"Why did You let this happen"…but, “Why am I so blessed? Why was I born here and not there…or somewhere else where life is all of suffering?” It went beyond the common guilt of “Why am I so blessed when they’re not?” to “How can I give back because of this great blessing?” 

How then, shall I live?

And I knew that even in America so many do suffer...poverty, abuse, neglect, illness, disability, depression…no hope, no faith, no future. My daily struggles as a middle class woman, wife and, then, young mother…marriage issues, insecurities as I learned to parent, continually coming to terms with wants versus needs in a culture that constantly screamed “You need more! More clothes, more nice things…more than just being a mom at home!”…were made ridiculous in the face of others’ true despair.

I had never had much growing up, but always what I needed. Our houses and neighborhoods were never on anyone’s “tour of beautiful homes,” but I wasn’t born in inner city America either, where strife, crushing poverty and bloodshed are commonplace. The only thing close to the sound of gunfire I’d ever heard were the fireworks my dad set off in the middle of the street…on the Fourth of July. Sounds of celebration and freedom, not desperation and fear.

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These are the thoughts and memories that came flooding through my head this morning as I sat in prayer and confession. And this in response to the book on prayer that I know He led me too.  As I poured out my desperate need for my God and my desire to live a life, and a prayer life, in total dependence on Him, I was struck by the irony that today is Independence Day.

How proud we are of our independence, but independence is not always the ideal. Independence, if it denies all weakness and need, becomes pride...and pride leads to many a grievous sin and all the fallout that comes with it. Pride and that stubborn sense of "I can do it myself!" keep us isolated from one another, hindering friendship, fellowship, and family love. We can be floundering in these very relationships and choose to watch them die rather than ask for help. We labor in vain to hide our needs from one another, our need for one another, and on a deeper more tragic level, we are blinded from our desperate need for God.  

In declaring dependence, I'm not talking about the dependence that keeps us from maturing to adulthood and responsibility, but about the maturity that reminds us that none of us, even in growing up, were created to be islands unto ourselves. We need others and are called to respond to others' needs.

How often are we asked, “How are you? Can I help?” and our response is “I’m good!” 

But are we really? 

Do you do this too? I do, still. Though I am intentionally moving in the direction of a less guarded life, I still find myself hiding my pain, worries and weaknesses. 

And today I was once again made aware of how I have been forsaking my safest relationship through a lack of prayer. Jesus beckons tenderly, “Come all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” I know He can be trusted, yet still I fail to come. I forget to come. I try and live independently.

God is my refuge and strength. I believe this with my mind. I speak it with my lips. And today I had to confess with my whole heart that I have not been living in the light of this truth.

When what I believe and how I am living are at odds with each other…well, let me just say that I am grateful for the lack of peace, the restlessness, that leads me to repentance. The kindness and mercies of my Savior cause me to well up and overflow with thankfulness that He doesn’t let go when I’m, even unknowingly, trying to wriggle my hand from His.

God, you are so good.

So today, in my heart and soul and by God's grace alone, I declare not independence, but the reality of my total dependence. And I recognize the freedom that comes from Christ alone. It is Jesus Christ…His death for sin and His resurrection…that has made me free. Free from sin and death. 

No matter where I would have been born, it would still be that freedom and peace with God that would be essential and truly liberating. The sin and evil of this world can scar my life and my body, but nothing can touch my soul. It is free. 

And there is a life, my real life, eternal life, that is always cause for celebration. It is the foundation of my hope in this life. Christ in me, my hope of glory. (Colossians 1:27) 

I have been given much freedom, so I must hold this freedom out to others. That is the best way to give back what I have been given. In Christ, I am richly blessed and in a gratitude that is hard to contain...that should not be contained...I long to see others set free; to share the eternal hope and blessing of knowing Jesus. 

It is His life laid down on a cross that made me free 

and bids me lay down my life for others.

I pray that you too are celebrating true freedom and dependence today. 

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And yes, God, would you bless America? 

But, even more...I pray that we would bless and honor You.

Restlessness

Sometimes there's a restlessness that finds no feet. It's not calmed by more doing...yet it whispers of some vague, undone purpose. And how do I lean my ear to the whispering when there are tasks so numerous? A proper accounting of my life would show that I both forget to listen and fail to do. 

Sigh... 

How I often envy the discipline of others, but how I also know that living outside the list gives me breath.

I am rambling... Yes. 

With purpose? I don't know.

Why give glimpse to my state of mind? Is there any purpose to that? 

Does everything need a higher purpose? 

My soul says, "Yes." Since childhood I've yearned for the meaning behind the meaning. There is always a higher purpose. The unseen behind the seen. 

But I honestly haven't truly made peace with this thing called blogging even though the Unseen has been drawing me to it. 

Why be so transparent? Why lay bare the struggle and confusion? Can't I just write when I know there will be a tidy bow on my neatly stacked package of words? 

Yet the writing calls.

And time after time I find something...or nothing...to do instead.

I hear Jesus calling, too...and I do come, but I don't show Him the restlessness. Not entirely. Oh, I know He sees it, but that is not the same as my bringing it to Him.

Perhaps I have not determined to be done with it, like the piles of boxes that need sorting and purging in my basement. Perhaps it's because I don't know where to start and I somehow think I need to know where to start...instead of just starting. 

Ah...perhaps this applies to the writing and the restlessness. 

My feet trapped in a pile of thought... 

Yet another recurring theme since childhood. 

I hear a favorite verse, "Fix your eyes on Jesus." But He also said, "Follow me." 

Can't do that with my feet pinned down. Can't do that if I'm not listening. 

So today I'm going to begin a journey in prayer...by praying and by exploring more about prayer. On a friend's recommendation I've picked up A Praying Life: Connecting With God In A Distracting World by Paul Miller. 

I've heard it said that it is much easier to steer a car when it's moving. So I'm going to move...so I can hear...and He can steer. 

And...perhaps...I'll share some insights along the way.


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Today, God was nudging. Writing this has been about obedience to Him.  

Obedience is not just something else to do, it is a posture of heart. It is an outflow of claiming His lordship, of "claiming" to love Him. Jesus says in John 14:15, "If you love me, keep my commands." 

The breath and ability to do this come in the next verses...14:16, 17 "And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever - the Spirit of truth." 

He calls me to obey. He gives His Spirit that I can obey. And His Spirit brings truth. 

Just what my restless heart needs.

On Fog and Friction

Author Beth K. Vogt has a blog called In Other's Words where she chooses a word, a quote and photo regarding that word, adds her personal reflection, then invites her readers to respond. I have been enjoying participating as a reader and an occasional responder for the past year since reading her debut novel Wish You Were Here. 

Today's post was on the word friction with a picture of a gorgeous blue gemstone and the quote: 
"A gem cannot be polished without friction; the child of God cannot be perfected without adversity." 

This, of course, resonated deeply and I wanted to write a response, but thought with an internal sigh..."Do I really want to think that hard?" Which as I mulled it over was more about letting it touch me in newly tender places and being too lazy to take the time to journal what the Lord was showing me. 

But I finally succumbed to the still small Voice, the one I long to hear daily and desire to obey despite my willful flesh...and this weird place of awkward, tired, fogginess that has been my physical and emotional response to traveling, visiting children and grandchildren, and more travel, which has all resulted in less sleep, being out of routine, the joys of hellos and the pain of goodbyes... There are more twists and turns, but I'll spare you the details.

In all of this lately, I haven't wanted to sit down and write...anything...at all. Well, I suppose part of me has wanted to...or felt like I should be writing...shouldn't I? But how to delve into all this mental mess and make any sense? The truth is I'm just really awkward and messy in transitions. 

Ok, I suck. 

Sorry if you hate that word. I hate it too, but even my aversion to the sound of it makes it fit all the more. 

Life has been one long series of major transitions...for the past several years. Or is it decades? Is it just all catching up? No. I think these recent years have truly been one of those big pivot points in the journey. Sometimes I move with it well and sometimes I feel like mental mush, like I'm walking through molasses, compass spinning, knowing true north, but too topsy turvy to make a stab in any direction. 

Do you ever feel this way? 

Even in the misted muck I sometimes remember one wise thing... 

Ask for prayer. 

As in, "I'm in a fog, ladies! Well, I know that I'm really on a Rock, but it's all foggy and I just want to lay here!" Some of the most heartfelt prayer requests are birthed from a fog enshrouded fetal position. "Help! I fell down and I don't want to get up!"

In this instance, I did just that. And I'm thinking that the still small Voice and the fact that I'm clickety-clicking away here on this singing-bird, fresh brewed coffee, sun-soaked morning are an answer to those prayers... 

So back to Beth's post. Here's what I finally wrote in response to her probing thoughts about friction:

As I looked at the gem in your photo the first thing I noticed were all the facets. Dozens of tiny surfaces cut into the stone. The more facets, the more surfaces to reflect light. Every blow of the cutters tool gouging away with purpose. Not to bruise the stone or to merely amass a heap of rubble, but to etch those shining surfaces to perfection and then, yes, to polish, polish, polish. This doesn't really answer your question, but it is where my mind went with your analogy.

Yesterday I got to share with a couple of young women that as I look back upon my life...the highs, the lows, and the sharp left turns...I see that He wasted nothing. The words we had sung that very morning, "You make all things work together for my good," were indeed true. If there is any shine from our lives, it is from the cutting and the polishing. Our lives start at redemption and are always about redemption. We are living, shining, walking reflections of the living gospel.  

The Word. The Truth...who came to save and keep saving. We are engraved on the palm of His hand and His truth is mercifully, though often painfully, etched into our hearts causing each beat to send fresh faith, hope, love, strength and assurance coursing through our lives. It is achingly beautiful to me...my precious Jesus holding my ache so tenderly and whispering so, so softly, 

"Peace, be still. I am here, sweet child. I am making you beautiful."


Sigh....

Reminded, once again, of the truth that He's written on my heart and buoyed by the prayers of dear sisters, I feel the fog lifting. 

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Where are you in this journey? Fog? Friction? 

A friend was recently quoting Philippians 4...

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all."

And I chimed in, "The Lord is near."  

Because I love that part! The Lord is near! Such a good promise!

The passage continues: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."

Wherever you are today...pray. Ask someone to pray for you! Give thanks, rejoice in Him, rejoice that He is near! Set your mind on worthy things. Set your feet to the lighted path and walk. Know that God-breathed peace that sets a guard around heart and mind. It is a lovely peace. 

It is a the only lasting peace.

A Morning With My Wild-Haired Girl

Just out of arms reach twirls the poster child for epic morning hair. Strands of wispy, honey blond ponytail escapees frame her green tinted eyes with an explosive wad of tangles pouffed out in back like a Victorian bustle gone wrong. I haven't seen anything that teased up since the 80s!

Dancing free in crisp new diaper she chimes, "I'm naked! I'm naked!" (Well, yes, except for that cute Micky Mouse Huggie on her bum.) And so she jabbers on with intense earnestness and I have to suppress the smile and chuckle that are tickling up from my Gramma's heart as I try and listen with equal seriousness. Her mama had that same sweet, sing-songy voice as a child...

Oh the wonder of this precious girl...soft eyes, cheesy grin, and a full-on, two year old, adorable, tongue sthickin' out lithp! "Hasta la vista" tumbles out as "lot-tha pizztha!" (Which means we love to get her to say it as often as possible.) 

She bends down now to look me straight in the eyes as she touches her hand to her chest, "I go downthairs wiss Mom." Not a question, you see, but an announcement. She is two, after all. 

Basement errand complete, she's engaged in a morning dinosaur show. And as I type these last lines, she's wiggled her way onto my lap for a cuddle and another look at my owl necklace. How I love these sweet snuggles...savoring and saving them up for the months ahead. Embracing today, while she's here, even as the tears sneak up on me...

My little darlin' lives in Little Rock and my heart sometimes gets ahead of itself as another inevitable goodbye looms on the horizon. 

The Lord has been teaching me to hold all things loosely these past couple of years, stretching my long-distance Gramma heart to the breaking point, then pouring out sweet grace to ease the tautness just in time...every time. I don't love the feeling, but I adore His nearness. 

And, today, I adore her nearness too.  

Now back to my wild-haired girl. Time-tha wayth-tin'! 

Perfect Love

Today is Valentine's Day. The day we celebrate love. 

Modern culture often treats love as something cheap and easy...and any one of us has been guilty of doing the same...but it is nothing of the sort. Even on this holiday of love...chocolate, flowers, and romantic cards mean nothing, one day of the year, if the work, and choice, and gift of love is not given everyday. 

On my fun search for "love" quotes today I saw this one and it resonated with my love story: 

"Perfect love sometimes does not come till the first grandchild."  

Welsh Proverb

Even as I ponder it again, I nod and smile. That simplified statement captures a lot for me.

What about you? Is your love perfect? Mine wasn't either. Still has a long way to go. In all things, maturity takes time.

And you may be thinking..."Yeah, my marriage is way less than perfect." 

While I am referring to marriage, what I actually mean here is "my ability to love" was not perfect. Not my spouse's. Mine. Because love, and healing, and forgiveness must start in my heart. 

Learning how to love means turning to the Savior, Jesus. The author of all that is good. He tears down and builds up in us so that we can learn to build up and not tear down those around us. 

Learning to love means learning to receive grace and to give grace...and grace changes everything.

Will you wait and hope? Will you persevere, pray, surrender, and trust?

We often read these words and we've heard them so many times that they are just "blah, blah, blah." But they are good words, hard words, true words:

Love is patient, love is kind. 

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, 

it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Perhaps we get stuck on the first phrase and just give up. "Love is patient..." Ugh! But with God all things are possible. His love never fails. It will accomplish in us what is good and perfect...if we will only believe, trust, and rely on Him.

Lean into His perfect love and let Him do what He does best: perfect. 

He makes all things beautiful in their time.

We've had a long road, my man and me. Thirty years and counting. Up hills, through valleys, and many a desolate place. But we've also known still waters, peaceful meadows, and joyful reconciliations. Laughter, silliness, and tender moments. 

And, yes, the wonder of that first grandchild...

...then the second and the third. 

And as each one of those precious babies were born...or even well before that, at each wedding, watching our children enter into the same covenant that we made so many years ago...we've gazed at one another and lifted our hearts to heaven in thankfulness that we did not give up. 

Love never fails. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

What about you?

It breaks my heart that so many marriages around us have been dropping like flies. And while it looks like they're just suddenly "dropping," the reality is more a slow slide, a heaping of troubles, walls going up...one brick at a time.

I've been a messy puddle on one side of a high, thick wall with my husband...so close and yet so far...on the other side. I understand the desperation, bitterness, loneliness, and hopelessness that takes couples to the point of giving up. I've been there.

But I also know that given enough stubbornness against the "D" word and a desperate willingness to dare...yes, dare...to let God be as big as He says He is...beginning with your own bitter heart, ingrained bad habits, lack of belief...He can restore, instruct, and give deeper faith. 

And as you begin to breathe His life more fully you will find that you are breathing that same life back out...grace...into your marriage and your family, all the while forging a deep intimacy with the Lord that will be your solace come what may. 

You may even find, as I did, that knowing Him that way was the real quest all along, even above a healed marriage. Laying down the idolatry of demanding a perfect earthly relationship because, truly, He is all you need.   

For a deeper look at "not giving up" read For Better Or For Worse.

Know His grace. There is hope.