What's On Your Mind?

My mind is not in sync with my good intentions tonight. I went to bed at a decent time, but did not find sleep. With a three week trip to Croatia looming, thoughts of the busy week that has passed, and a wedding to help facilitate when I get back, what I did find was the Miscellaneous file of my sometimes ADD brain. Thoughts, lists, scenarios, toss, turn, hopes, worries, dreams, turn over again. There always comes a time in one of these late-night idea parades that I just give up and get up. Tonight this happened around 1:00AM. So I sit here in the half light of the living room cradling my laptop letting the thoughts roll.

It is hard to fathom that I will be flying across the sea in six days, for in my heart I have already made so many travels these past few weeks. From grief to peace, agitation to calm, from stubborn discontent to acceptance and even thankfulness. Once clenched fists are now open hands ready to receive good and perfect gifts. It is so much better to be in this place. Peace with my Father who always knows what I need. And it seems that I need to be leaving my home and my family just as one child moves across the state, another arrives while I'm gone, and the third works out the details of relocating to another state entirely soon after I get back. What a strange time to take a trip...but I will not be lulled back into my state of depressed disbelief. Can't even give that destination one star. Honestly, don't go there. 

There has been so much to do this last week as I've prepared to leave. Of course that is mostly due to a protracted state of denial. (Ok, I'll quit with the "state" hopping.) Errands, chores, meetings, phone calls, arranging, and re-arranging. It always amazes me how much energy floods in once I open the attitude dam. Forgiveness and grace are good that way. My heart and my house got a good cleaning. The to do list didn't look so ominous once held up to the light. Light heart, light load. Open hands give everything a worship posture. Worshiping rightly, and the right One, as tasks are crossed off one by one. 

I'm especially thankful for the people who have come my way in the midst of all this busyness. Sons, daughters, store clerks, baristas, spouse, parents, aunt, nieces, friends, sisters - by birth or rebirth, and even the wonderful folks at the dentist office (yes, the dentist office).  There was Facebook and face time. Gathering to pray, have coffee, or both. Young women sharing their hearts, opportunities to share mine. Being hosts and being hosted. The marvelous salon morning that morphed into my kitchen salon, three haircuts, and three more great conversations. And I cannot forget the skype dates with Miss Cadence who apparently enjoys sharing mealtime with me...i.e. will miraculously eat the food she was refusing only moments ago if "flat screen gramma" sits up on the counter next to her high chair and talks to her, lets mommy "feed" me her food first, or ad libs some other sort of silliness. These are the things I love to do. If I had to choose between a task and a chance to talk to someone, well, I'm hard-wired to pick the latter. And I have no regrets. 

For the moment, that is all I have to say about any of that. I had originally planned to get up, pull out my notebook, and start jotting down the lists that were running through my head a couple of hours ago. That might have been wiser. I will never know. Instead, I have chosen talk to you as I journal some of my nighttime musings. It does seem to have brought all those floating thoughts down for a landing, so I think I'll give sleep another try. Thanks for listening. It's nice to have someone to talk to in the middle of the night. But before I go it seems only fitting to ask, "What's on your mind?"

Crying Out...and Heard

For those who read Crying Out, I feel I must let you know the the Lord has answered. He always does in His perfect way. He is so good. I can never tire of writing that! He is so good! Always! (smile) And His answer did not come dramatically or audibly or by heaven-gram. It came the way it most often does. His truth as I opened His word and, truly, as written by others as I sat browsing through my Facebook newsfeed. His truth that I was prompted to share with others in their struggles. His truth that I have hidden in my heart through these years of seeking Him. 

I once was faced with a friend's heart wrenching pain as she walked through a blinding storm with her family. Fear real. Hopes dashed. Heart on the floor in a pool of tears. I reminded her of the years we had spent in Bible study together. Digging deep into God's word and letting it dig deep into us. For seven years we had stored away treasures of truth as we mined the riches of Romans, Hebrews, James, the letters to Peter, Isaiah, the Psalms, Acts, Revelation...and on and on. God knew that she would need all of that treasure store to walk the path that was to come. Because of this pain that He knew would come, He had equipped her with the truth of His unchanging character, His immeasurable power, His precious promises, of His unwavering love for her. I reminded her that she needed to fight to cling to the truth, to His goodness despite the storm, and to not give in to the enemy's taunting of "did God really say?" And I fought with her that day, over the phone, as we prayed fervent prayers to the God who saves! I can joyfully report to you that our prayers, and her anguished months and years of crying out, were also answered. Jesus won...even though there were many more nights and days of storm and battle. His truth prevailed in her heart and in her family.  

And God knew that I would need all of that truth to walk the winding road of all that has come, and is coming. How grateful I am that He longs to pour out the power of the Holy Spirit and the riches of spiritual blessing on those who seek Him. How humbled I am that He is faithful when I am all too often so ridiculously fainthearted. He never says, "Really?! You again?! When will you ever learn?" No. His mercies are new every morning. His love is steadfast. He is the tender Good Shepherd that carries me close to His heart when my heart, and my legs, fail me. And I know that many of you were praying for me this week that His truth would prevail. 

Thank you, precious Savior, for salvation and for your truth that is always the solid Rock on which I stand, even when I am feeling dizzy. Thank you for preparation and equipping. Thank you for my brothers and sisters, the body of Christ, that help me fight the good fight. Thank you for those you've allowed me to battle alongside. They are so dear! ...We all get weary. We need one another, swords in hand, armor on, fully alert, ready to "keep on praying for all the saints," to encourage, to speak the truth in love... You are my strength, Jesus. Your word is a lamp to my feet. I praise you today! I stand in awe of your goodness! Please continue to equip me to be the warrior sister that I need to be in this age. How I long for your appearing! But until that day, give me legs to stand, a steady mind, and a heart overflowing with Your love! Amen!

Crying Out

It is so much easier to talk about life than to live it. How easily I can write a quick - though heartfelt - response to someone on Facebook or share a word of encouragement with a friend. But does it show just how hard the days and years were in getting to that place of faith or victory? Does it reflect compassion for the one in the battle now? Does it even begin to communicate just how deep and wrenching some of the pain has been?

There were days when I thought I would die. There were days when I could not breath. There were days when all I could do was cry...and cry out. Life is real and messy, full of plot twists, expected and unexpected. There are not always tidy answers for untidy days. But in the fray of all this, and in the tossing seas of new hard things on my horizon, I will confidently say that there is hope, there is a Healer, there is a source of strength. We don't have to do any of this alone. And I will also say that, yes, it is hard and exhausting and grievous some days, weeks, years.

Today is a crying and crying out day. Hope fully anchored, but heart hurting anyway. And it is ok to not be ok today. Jesus is here. He knows. He cares. "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart..." (Isaiah 40:11) I love that picture. Thank you for holding me, Jesus.

There's room there for you, too. Just cry out. His arms are strong, His love is perfect.

"My heart and my flesh may fail, 

but God is the strength of my heart 

and my portion forever." 

Psalm 73:26

Let Me B

My list is long. Well, it would be if I put everything on it that I really am supposed to be getting done. I think I need to hire a Type A personal assistant who knows how to kick butt. My inner Type A is primarily a figment of my imagination, as in, "I imagine that I'll get to that very soon."

I am a classic Type B. After all, B is for Bernadette. B is also for Be and Brave and Barbecue! Ooo, I like that! A is for Action, Ambition, and Accountant. Let me just say that ambitious for a Type B is as foreign as spontaneous is for my Type A companions. I can only manage it under extreme conditions such as getting rid of head lice. (That is nightmare I do not wish to ever re-live and comes under the category of "home invasion." Mess with my family and you're dead meat. Think female Incredible Hulk minus the green face.) And, getting back to my original story, let me just say that if you made me an accountant, I would wither up and die.

I do not despise all "A" words, however. "Alas" comes in very handy. Such as, "Alas, I do not know what is for dinner...Alas, the weeds are taking over...Alas, I have frittered away another day by writing lots and doing little." But, hey, my bed is made! And the laundry's half done! Perhaps I should go write those on my list so that I can cross them off. 

And getting back to imagination, I find it a very handy tool. Over the years I have thought up many ways to trick myself into accomplishing things, or into doing as much as possible as quickly and painlessly as possible. I keep paper towels and cleaners in every sink cupboard in my house. That way if I decide one morning that the bathroom mirror looks a bit spotted and shabby I can easily grab my trusty bottle of Windex and a paper towel and spritz away the smudges. Then, since I hate wasting a paper towel, I will spray down a few other surfaces and buff them into a sparkle. And golly, since I have this wet towel I might as well wipe down the floor and pick up all the hair that I'm losing daily. (Ugh!) In less than 5 minutes the bathroom looks and smells amazing and all I did was clean the mirror! Disclaimer: Cleaning the tub or the toilet bowl requires a totally different strategy. Most days I go for fresh and shiny with neatly folded towels. 

I read somewhere that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am taking it on faith, then, that there is a purpose for a Type B like me. Why we are usually paired up with a Type A spouse was once a very exasperating mystery to me and to my husband. Now it has mellowed to humor on both sides and a somewhat effectively functioning AB couple. His side of the closet is still as neat as a pin, but I don't feel so guilty about that anymore since I tidy mine up every 6 months or so. I do occasionally manage to act responsibly and live by my list, and he occasionally chucks his and decides to go out for coffee instead. We were born with an innate "bent" but have been willing to bend. Who are we to argue with His plan.

But now, despite my attempt at justifying my lack of productivity, I must exit my comfy couch and my reverie. I no longer hear the dryer running. Random? Perhaps. But it takes far less time to grab freshly tumbled clothes and lay them out on top of the dryer than to re-tumble them, or EEK! iron them. I am lazy. I like saving time. Thus I like folding laundry. There's a math equation or an "if, then" geometry proof somewhere in that string of statements, but that is for the Type As to figure out. For now I will submit to my trick of logic and go finish the laundry. 

Does Youth Ministry Matter?

I received an email while on vacation that posed the question, "Is there a biblical basis for youth ministry? if so, why does it matter?" The email asked for a response. This is an adaptation of my response:

My quick answer to the question of youth ministry is that Jesus said to go and make disciples. He didn't specify how that would look, but we are to be encouraging others to know and follow Jesus. To this end, youth ministry has biblical validity. To this end, women's ministry, men's ministry, children's ministry, married's ministry, etc. has biblical validity.

But...I also feel that our youth need to not be so compartmentalized that they are separate from the rest of the church body. This allows adults to forego their responsibility of encouraging those younger in the faith, sometimes including their own children. "Let the youth pastor teach my child" or "handle this crisis." All adults need to "man up" and take responsibility for those who are younger in years and in faith. Instead of just sending them off the be counseled by a pastor, what if "we" got on our knees in desperation seeking wisdom to bring counsel to one of our young brothers or sisters? Or what if "we" committed to pray diligently for our youth..even for just one or two of them consistently? What if "we" intentionally sought out a young person to know and encourage? Too often we are content to pass on the hard stuff to a "professional"...whatever that means. Aren't we all commanded to be prepared in season and out so that we can give an answer for the hope that we have? To rightly handle the word of truth? To speak the truth in love? To keep on praying for "all" the saints? Are we willing to apply this to our preparation and action in coming alongside teens and young adults? 

I believe it is a wonderful thing to provide a place for teens to find fellowship and encouragement, but I also believe that the church needs to be admonished and challenged  to incorporate these "adults-in-the-making" into the life of the church body. Into our lives. The world is intimidated by teens. We are not to look like the world, but to walk in faith, trust, and obedience. How will teens ever learn that this works or is even worthwhile if we're too lazy to do it on their behalf? To show them, not just tell them. To share with them how God is working in our lives, that His promises are true. To take them along on our journeys, if that's what it takes. 

Many years ago the Lord very clearly said to me, "How will you ever be able to look your children in the eye and tell them that they can trust the Lord if you will not?" I knew all the verses, had all the pat answers, but I was cowering in fear and in rebellion (nicely labeled "sins of omission"). It has been a crazy, hard journey for me since then. I have not arrived, nor am I perfect, but BAH! I just have to keep pressing on! When one part of the body suffers (is sick, weak, ineffective, given over to sin), we all suffer. There is so much at stake! Our "kids" aren't following Jesus, to a great degree, because we aren't following Jesus. Youth ministry is only running around plugging leaks until we who "by this time ought to be teachers..." (Heb 5:11-14) start taking our lives as Jesus' followers seriously. 

So, yes, I believe that there is biblical validity for youth ministry as a specialized focus...but it must be combined with a whole body focus. Why would a kid be excited about becoming an adult, in life and in faith, when we as "grown ups" really do make it look lame, insignificant, powerless, and fake? Our kids are dying out there and all we adults often do is wring our hands, stand around and talk about the sad state of "kids today", point condemning fingers at sinful behavior, or say by our actions, "You're not worth my time. Your problems are too hard and ugly. I have no patience to walk this path of growing up with you. And, by the way, can you just get your act together, you're taking up my valuable time and making me look bad." 

And in venting all this, I have to acknowledge that there are many godly parents and adults who are taking this seriously. But far too many adults are reluctant to wrap their minds, their hearts, and their time around caring for these young people, whether in formal "youth ministry" or in just doing life with teens. 

We need to be on our faces for our kids. We need to be searching the scriptures for wisdom, and acting on what is said so that we will be healed, trained up, fully prepared for those works ordained for us...including coming alongside those younger than us. We need to believe that God will be victorious in their lives...and ours. And, yes, I am preaching all this to myself too, because I am by nature lazy and as prone to lose my zeal as anyone. 

Thanks for asking the question. I've been spurred on by answering it. 

**********

And I would add this: 

Young people are not scary, but by giving in to this lie we are leaving them vulnerable to the speaker of that lie. As I have heard my youth pastor say over and over, "The world is a relentless discipler." It is hitting our kids from all sides, 24/7. If you saw a toddler standing alone beside a busy freeway, would you just drive by saying, "Well, I'm not called to children's ministry?" Our teens are in danger. Will you stop? The battle is real and we stand on the side of the victorious One, but are we instead only sitting on the sidelines? The very power of God that rose Christ from the dead lives in us! It is His power that works in us to will and to do according to His good purpose. Nothing is impossible with God! He says, "Do not be afraid! Do not be discouraged for the Lord your God is with you!" There is no time for sitting, we are needed in the battle. If this spurs even one person on in committing to grow up, or to pray, or to come do life with teens in youth ministry, then it has been worth sharing. 

One very exhausting youth camp as I asked the Lord why I was even there He took me to Psalm 145, verses 4-7:

One generation commends your works to another; 

   they tell of your mighty acts. 

They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty— 

   and I will meditate on your wonderful works.

They tell of the power of your awesome works— 

   and I will proclaim your great deeds. 

They celebrate your abundant goodness 

   and joyfully sing of your righteousness.

And so I press on. Will you?

One Thousand Gifts: Loved this book!

Thankfulness brings transfiguration; gratitude, the path of grace. Eyes that see glory and beauty are won by it’s splendor. Trust conquers fear. This is merely a glimpse of the journey of Ann “full of grace” Voskamp, in her book One Thousand Gifts. It is real and raw. Gritty and tender. A truth journey. Her questions come, unafraid; not sure of answer, but so full of desire to be free from fear, doubt, bitterness, and pain. And as a fellow traveler, I found her journey refreshing, challenging, and affirming. My heart and mind full of “Amens!” and thank yous. For in a different setting and with a different song, He has sung me to my own place of rest, assurance, and freedom. “Fully here and fully alive.”

In mind, heart and soul, her poetic style was lyric that I understood. Words full of meaning, images that took me to her warm kitchen with bread baking, her wonder upon a glimmer of sunshine through window pane, her mind’s battle with temper over child's misbehavior. It is one part journal, one part Bible study, and all of it bathed in honesty. It resonates deeply to both the weary traveler and to the one who has found respite. It says, “Come walk with me as I struggle, and see it real. “ Not in glossy cliché or condescension, but real and hard and wondrous.

We can read of the promises to those who overcome, but what will the path of overcoming look like? We are often surprised by the pain of it and turn back. Yet her words challenge us to see differently. To press on. For "that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave." Then she asks, "But how? How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God-places?...How do I give up resentment for gratitude, gnawing anger for spilling joy? Self-focus for God-communion?...To fully live." These are the questions. This is the dilemma of Spirit over flesh.

Just like our journey, her road winds and the obstacles are many - loss, heartache, crippling fear, discontent, anger. But as she perseveres she invites us to do the same. To cultivate thankfulness, find grace, know joy. She ends the book, “In the orchard, the day’s first wind blows a thousand apple blossoms from the trees. They shower earth’s dark breast. I watch them fly. A snow of endless beauty. And I feel His caress.” As I read these last words my soul shouts, “And so do I!” Jesus, lover of my soul! He knows my darkest places and my stubborn rebellion, and still He woos me. He leads me to pastures of green, to quiet, healing waters, and has been my companion and strength through many a shadowy valley of death. 

He is my tender Shepherd, good and altogether faithful. He has given me eyes to see that all is grace. I feel it and I know it just as fully as I know the sound of my husband's footsteps and the voices of my own children. It is as sure as the morning sun and the evening moon. From beginning of life to last gasping breath, all is grace. Every joy, every sorrow blended in greatest wisdom yielding bread for the breaking, and bread enough to share. His grace is the deepest pool, the infinite gaze, the answer to eternal longing. Though journey be dark, He is light. Though grief shatters quiet, His song speaks solace. Though sin ravages unmerciful, He is tender Redeemer of all things. Champion. Lord. He is good. Always.

His grace is always at work, teaching eyes to see and hearts to give thanks, turning ugliness to beauty, if we would only hold out our hands and receive. For in this world of the shattered Eden, where man’s rejection of God takes flesh in every headline of horror and in each heart’s secret pain, His still voice still beckons, “Behold, I am making all things new! Behold...see! Come away with me into grace!” Oh, loved one of God, His gifts are everywhere! In Him there is life and healing and hope for the traveler.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!

Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!

Heir of salvation, purchase of God

Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song

Praising my Savior all the day long

This is my story, this is my son

Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, all is at rest

I in my Savior am happy and blest

Watching and waiting, looking above

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.    ~Frances J. Crosby, 1873