I’ve Been Commissioned. But I’m Still Here.

“I’ve been commissioned. But I’m still here.   

A leader’s guide to answering God’s call to stay right where you are.” 

Rewind.  

‘If you feel like God is calling you into ministry, come down and pray.’ My 19-year-old self ran to the altar. Images of missions, teaching, and praying with others filled my young mind as I was commissioned in a group setting. Warm tears streamed down my face, and I told God I would do anything He wanted, and I would live my whole life for Him.  

Fast-Forward.

Marriage. Housework. Cooking. Working. Volunteering. Moving across the country. Kids. Autism Diagnosis. Working. Parenting. Therapy. Homeschooling. Marriage. Housework. Cooking. Volunteering. Meetings. Soccer. Dance. Moving across the country. Scouts. Appointments. Teaching. Homeschooling. Therapy. Dance. Working. Marriage. Volunteering.  

Stop. 

My calendar was full; each activity and appointment carefully lined up to overlap with the next. I had created the perfect blend of being busy, taking care of everyone around me, and avoiding the deep ache growing inside of me. There was safety in being busy – I could control everything. But something was missing. I wanted more. I wasn’t happy.   

Pause. 

As the weather began to get warm, I stood in the foyer of my new church and watched the swirl of movement. I listened to the laughter that didn’t include me, and loneliness enveloped my soul like a dark cloud. I heard the familiar whisper, ‘you don’t belong here. You’re not like them. Something is wrong with you.’ I wanted to leave, but my feet wouldn’t move. I wanted to sit with my busy calendar and be applauded for the schedule that I had orchestrated, but my friends and family were hundreds of miles away. My husband and kids went out to the car while the blur of activity slowed to a crawl. I spoke out loud: ‘God, I know there’s more. Help me to love these people the way you do. Help me to stay.’   

Play.  

I began a journey that day. A journey that went so far out of my comfort zone and created such an unexplainable amount of peace that I know, without a doubt, God put together the itinerary. My calendar began to slowly ease up as I made space for my family and for time alone. I gradually accepted myself, and I started working through my own insecurities. God was faithful to shine a light on each step (Psalm 119:105) and to provide people along my path who accepted me, who ministered to my racing heart, and who told me to ‘keep doing what I was doing’.   

Volume Down. Volume Up.  

And so here I am. I didn’t leave. I stayed, and I loved every person in front of me with every bit of love that He gave me. I served, and I did whatever was in front of me to do. I took one step at a time, and I found that as I remained faithful to my assignment, He remained faithful to me whatever it was that day. As I spent time in God’s word, He strategically placed opportunities and healthy friendships into my life again. The most significant part of this journey is that I’m no longer consumed with myself, what I’ll be doing next, and my feelings – I’m not worried about tomorrow (rumor has it that tomorrow has enough worries of its own). Still, I’m walking alongside the Holy Spirit, taking one step at a time.. crawling in the trenches, climbing up the mountains, and through it all, I must admit ... I’m enjoying the journey. Right where I am.  

What Sisterhood?

Can I be honest? I haven’t always loved “women’s ministry.”

In my early 20’s, I was a very young pastor’s wife, and I felt obligated to attend our church’s women’s ministry events.

This particular event was a Christmas tea party. I don’t love tea parties - if that’s your thing, that’s awesome! It just wasn’t my favorite. But all the other women seemed to love it. They talked, they laughed, they had obviously planned their perfectly coordinated outfits. But I felt out of place. I didn’t know who to sit by. I didn’t know what to wear or which fork to use for my salad. I remember awkwardly finding a seat at one of these events and feeling alone. I just wanted to go home, take off my pantyhose, and cry.

Looking back, I can see now that the problem wasn’t the tea party. The problem was that I wasn’t connected relationally to these women. I felt like I was on the outside - like I didn’t belong. 

Have you ever felt like that at a women’s event? There is something about gathering with a bunch of other women that can really bring our insecurities to the surface.  

A few years after the awkward tea party, I agreed to attend a women’s conference with a couple of my close friends. I will never forget that weekend. As I sat in that arena, surrounded by thousands of women I had never met, I felt a sense of “sisterhood” that I had never experienced before. I watched women of every age and background pray over one another, encourage one another, and cheer for one another. There was no pretense. No competition. It was breathtaking. This is what my heart was longing for. This was more than an event; it was sisterhood.

As I sat there, with tears streaming down my face, God spoke to my heart so clearly. I knew He was calling me to minister to women - to create a space where women of all ages, seasons, and backgrounds could come together as a sisterhood - united in purpose and love. A place where every girl was welcome at the table.

I didn’t know exactly how it would look, but I knew I couldn’t wait for sisterhood to come to me. It was time for me to take the initiative and reach out to the women in my world. So I started taking girls to coffee, leading sisterhood Bible studies in my basement, and creating opportunities for women to gather and connect.

Eventually, those small gatherings lead to large conferences, but the heart of each event - small or large, remains the same: to connect women to one another and to connect women to Jesus. 

If God is speaking to your heart about creating a space for sisterhood in your world, you “go girl!” We are cheering you on! God wants us to be gathered and connected. There is strength in our togetherness! As God’s daughter’s we should be demonstrating unity to a watching world.

Here are three little tips for starting up a Sisterhood…

Make it easy:

1. Just start somewhere.

2. Gather some girls for coffee.

3. Invite a few ladies to do a Bible study.

4. Meet up at a park.

5. Don’t stress about the size of the event.

Gatherings don’t have to be large to be impactful.

Make it inviting: Culture is vital. Make every girl feel loved, valued, and celebrated! A culture of celebration kills the spirit of comparison. Make sure everyone feels like they belong.

Make it inclusive: Keep an open seat at your table. Include women of every age and background. There is so much beauty in our diversity!

You’ve got this, Sister! Pick up your pompoms and start encouraging some girls in your world!

xoxo

Ordinary and Extraordinary Jesus

I’m not sure about you, but angels have not shown up at my place of work, but that’s precisely what happened to the shepherds who were keeping watch in the field on the very first Christmas. (Luke 2) Can you picture it? Can you think about what you would have done? It must have been an extraordinary moment out of a thousand ordinary days keeping watch over the sheep by night. Long nights to be exact.

And, oh, what a night it must have been. Jesus, the Son of God, a baby? Wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger? In a barn that is so ordinary where the extraordinary arrived in the still of the night. It gets me every time I read it, every time I hear the message or sing about it in a Christmas hymn. Every. Time.

An extraordinary scene in our ordinary church Christmas musical got me every time. At every practice. At every performance. The pomp and circumstance of the elaborate costumes of the wise men, the animals being paraded down the aisles, the gifts of pretend gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and the singing of the actors saying, “Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory, glory to God.” As the musical scene reached a crescendo, all the lights went out except the spotlight on the baby, an ordinary baby we selected for their first acting job. 

And to make it all ordinary in the extraordinary, the baby cried and sometimes cooed, but this real ordinary baby was dressed in a standard white cloth of swaddling clothes. The acting coach didn’t need to direct the baby because what the baby would do each performance was the extraordinary expectation of the evening. A baby simply being a baby.

Every night, the ordinary audience response was the same at the exact extraordinary moment. When the lights hit the “actor” baby Jesus and the “glory to God” realization comes upon us that the baby, two thousand years ago, is God incarnate, in the flesh, helpless and ordinary—extraordinary God, a gasp and awe would release from the audience. 

And the wonder of that moment, the realization that God in the flesh understood every common thing about being human, begins to tap at our ordinary heart and life that God is in the business of the ordinary. We want to see him in the extraordinary, but he’s right there most of the time in the mundane. Simply waiting for us to recognize him.

I can count on one hand the number of extraordinary things that have happened to me, but the ordinary is where I live. I’m not anything special in my ordinary life, but the Spirit of God dwells in me and makes my life extraordinary. It calls me to have eyes of faith, to receive the promise, to live in peace, be the light for the world, and to pass the extraordinary God that I serve on to others who have no hope.

At the time of Jesus’ birth, Shepherding was the most ordinary job. A manger was less than a commonplace to lay a baby. And a baby was the most minuscule way that the religious people thought the son of God would arrive, but he did. The shepherds found him precisely as the extraordinary angels said that they would.

Charles Wesley, who wrote the Christmas hymn, Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, wrote hymns to teach the poor and illiterate sound doctrine. About a year after his conversion, walking to church one Sunday morning and inspired by the London church bells, he penned the words of the “Hark” poem.

The ordinary lyrics at the end give us great hope, “Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings; Mild, he lays his glory by. Born that man no more may die, born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth. Hark, the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn King.” Oh, Jesus is present this day to give our current world peace, righteousness, light, healing, and the hope of second birth (new life) through Him.

God calls us to remain faithful in the ordinary of the day, which is really an extraordinary thing in a world that remains dark.

So, the angels asked the shepherds to go and see, but God compels us to go and do. Do what? The answer is to do the ordinary every day and do it every time. Show up, be present, bring peace, add joy, shine brightly, walk humbly, and do justly.

Messes

Seventy miles per hour, music playing, my mind is elsewhere.  

 I went to the gym earlier that day, and now I am coming home from brunch with my friend. My heart is full; it is a fantastic morning. I begin to think about what my afternoon will look like, making a silent checklist—and then suddenly—a pallet in the middle of the road!  

 I quickly check around me and swerve. Oh no! Another pallet. Broken pieces of wood scattered up and down the road.  Swerve, brake, swerve, switch lanes—all while carefully watching the traffic. Then, checking the mirror, I notice that the guy behind me is following my lead. We both expertly swerve around shards of wood, broken and whole pallets, until it finally appears that we were free. 

Another mile or so up the road, an old rusty blue truck is pulled over to the side.  The man standing next to it is trying to tie down about sixty pallets with two big straps. Unfortunately, he did not have the right kind of vehicle or suitable straps to make it work.   

I say a prayer as I zoom by. Then I begin to think.  

Sometimes I can be like that truck. If I AM not secure—then all the things I carry and the things I should not have can uncontrollably fly off and bounce down the road. If I hit the slightest bump, those pallets—those unsecured THINGS—can fly and destroy themselves and put everything else in danger.

Even though my only intentions that morning had been to transport my stuff—those shards—when I hit the slightest bump—can bust off, fall apart, and hurt everyone who is coming up behind me while I keep driving because I cannot see beyond my stuff. I don’t even know it’s falling off. I have no idea the damage I am leaving behind because I cannot see behind me.   

 Sometimes when we are going through life—we come upon unexpected pallets and shards and messes, and we get to decide each time—in each moment—whether to swerve or to hit the brake. 

If we take time to find the pain source and navigate each road separately, we have a fantastic opportunity. We get to stop alongside the road and help our brothers and sisters feel secure.  We assist them in unloading, reloading and gently teach them how to leave the excess behind and secure the right pieces into place. 

With the help of the Holy Spirit, we are then able to give them what they need at that moment to help transport them from their ‘here’ to their ‘there’ to their ‘next place.’ That’s siblinghood, and it can be the most beautiful thing in the world if handled with care.

And what about the guy behind me? Ah, a lesson there too. If we stay close to good, healthy leadership--If we walk alongside people who watch and listen—they will help us steer clear of many heartaches on this road of life.  

 Who are you traveling with? Who are you following?   

Keep driving and keep going because our God is faithful!     

A Seat at the Table

It was a Thursday afternoon, and I had just arrived at the retreat house after scrambling to get done all the things that have to be done before a busy mom in ministry can leave town. My teenage daughter was a hot mess, and I felt like a failure for so many reasons, but I had committed to this event, and I knew I needed to be there. When I walked into the room, my eyes fell on a long table set for dinner. It was so thoughtfully and delightfully decorated with silver chargers, pretty plates, gleaming flatware, sparkling glasses, cheerful yellow pansies placed carefully as centerpieces, and an elegantly wrapped gift at every place setting. 

I was carrying so much baggage when I got there that all I could think was, “Oh my, I am not dressed for dinner at this table, and I packed so quickly that I don’t even have anything nice to put on. I’m sure everyone won’t fit anyway, so I will just grab a seat at the bar nearby when it’s time.” And then I saw them. There were name cards at every place. I had never had a seat at the table with my name on it. But there it was, already reserved for me. I didn’t feel worthy, but there I was, taking my place at a table prepared for me. That made me think about another table over 2000 years ago, perhaps the most significant table in all of history…

Who got a seat at that table? Doubters, deniers, and even betrayers, Jesus included them all at the table of the Passover. He welcomed them despite what they had done and what He knew they would do. Thomas later doubted Him. Peter scoffed at Jesus’ prediction of his denial of Him, and deny Jesus he did only a few short hours after that last supper. When Peter’s eyes met those of Jesus, he was devastated at his failure. How could he be worthy of the bread Jesus had offered, but it was provided nonetheless. And Judas? Really? How did he merit a seat at the table?? He didn’t, but he was given one anyway. Jesus passed the bread of His body and the cup of His blood to a traitor whose heart was filled with darkness. He offered love and forgiveness down to the last second.

And what about me? I am a doubter, a denier, AND a betrayer. How is it that I am allowed at the table? I can’t buy a seat with my righteousness. Apart from Christ, I have none. I’m allowed at the table for one reason only: Jesus bought my seat. He paid for it in blood and reserved my place. He has reserved one for you too. There is a card with your name on it and a gift waiting for you. Are you coming? 

It’s a table where paupers become princes, losers become leaders, failures are forgiven, and the wretched are redeemed. So don’t worry about what to wear or what to bring; just do whatever it takes to get to the table. And come hungry! There is nothing more satisfying than the table He has prepared for you.

Loving the Broken Soul.

People.

They are complex.

They can be difficult. Interesting. Unique.

Some are fountains of wisdom and love, and some are drains that pull and grasp and seek, desperately needing and wanting attention. 

Each one is valuable. Each one has a soul, and each soul has an eternity.  God calls us to love His people, and it's our only call. To love them--and everything else that we do and say and offer flows out from that love.

He calls us to see beyond the labels and the reputations. He gives us the spiritual vision to capture snapshots of each heart and to hold them close and safe, and to be a harbor for the hurting.  People are valuable. 

God gives us His passion that we can see beyond political stances. The extreme and subtle differences that so strikingly divide us in the mirror blur as we seek to understand and value the inside's soul. 

The insecurity inside each of us fights against the call to love - saying, 'what about me? Who will fill me up?' The Lord faithfully answers that heart cry, too, as we sit at His feet daily and spend time with Him. Allowing Jesus to fill us up and then splash the overflow onto His people, we stay full by some miracle. 

Occasionally we link with another soul who has that same heart cry. We look up--our gaze is met and held. We are filled with wonder as another deep place that we didn't dare mention, one that exists only in hope. It is the gift of a friend to walk alongside as we scoop up the broken and bring them back to Jesus side by side.

This soul-friend is the purest of gifts.

But we don't stop for too long because we keep going. Separate but united--knowing that, at least for this season, we also have a safe place to land at the end of each day. 

So, we continue to put on our cloak of peace and push away our insecurities. God gives us a new, fresh vision, and we notice that some of the broken souls require more, so we dare to stop. We wait, and we love, and we walk next to them slowly, slowly walking and pushing back against society's call to be fast and to check the box and to move on.

No. We wait.  We love.  We pursue.

We sit in silence, and we make the silence comfortable because it's all okay. No matter what, the world is screaming, and no matter how fast the world is waving its worldly arms around, that should easily capture our attention. God blocks it out. Our faithful God blocks it all out.

We focus on the broken soul, and we sit. In silence.  Because people matter, souls have eternity, and eternity is forever.  

Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

What Would Jesus Do?

I say we bring back the WWJD bracelets from the 1990s. The WWJD acronym posed the reminder question, "What would Jesus do?" I'm sure my adult kids are laughing because they had a WWJD bracelet, and I reminded them often, "What would Jesus do?"

To my surprise, as I researched the phrase "What would Jesus do?" I discovered that its history goes further back than WWJD bracelets—a youth leader in Michigan began a grassroots movement to remind her teenagers of the importance of living Christlike.

The original meaning is Imitatio Christi (imitation of Christ), a concept started in the Roman Catholic Church, which paraphrased in English, "What would Jesus do?"

In the 1800s, Charles Sheldon wrote a book entitled "In His Steps: What Would Jesus Do." The book grew out of a series of sermons that Sheldon preached at his church in Topeka, Kansas, and became widely read in the United States. Sheldon's book, along with Rev. Walter Rauschenbusch's teachings, allowed people to think about the gospel and imitation of Christ in a new way. Thus the birth of a Social Gospel movement (1870-1930). 

Out of this social gospel, birthed the women's suffragette movement. In the United States, white women received the right to vote in 1920, and unfortunately, black women were not allowed to vote until 1965.

Our "issues" are not new, and justice is a biblical word. However, we often don't think about injustices unless they affect us personally. Posing the WWJD question allows us to remove ourselves from the downward spiral of our self-centeredness. It calls for us to Imitatio Christi (imitation of Christ). 

There are many ways to imitate Christ—his concern for the "least of these," his willingness to cross racial and economic lines, his congruent life in words and actions, and he modeled the principle of humble servant leadership—the last shall be first.

There are no excuses for not following the ways of Christ. In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus shares a lengthy discourse on top of a mountain where he spoke to those gathered around him about the potential of the blessed life and powerful teaching of salt and light.

In Matthew 5:13-16, he answers the question as to why we are here.

1. We're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth.

2. We're here to be light, bringing out God-colors in the world.

Jesus reminds us in Matthew 5-8 that the ways of Christ are counter-cultural. There's no room for unforgiveness, stinginess, retaliation, and fighting in WWJD. No, we are salt on the table and light in the room. Demanding our rights seems inappropriate in light of the one who gave up his rights so that we could experience forgiveness. 

Jesus reminds us that blessings come to the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, people that hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers. 

These people are salt-shakers and lampstands.

They are the delighted owners of everything that can't be bought and are satisfied by Christ alone. They will be cared for, and they see God in the outside world around them, and they refuse to compete and fight with others.

Kingdom people look like the beatitudes, and they ask the question, "What would Jesus do?" The response of kingdom people is love in action. 

A lot has happened lately, and as Christians called to be imitators of Christ, we haven't always responded well. It's my personal opinion that we have some makeup work to do. We may need to refresh the salt in our shaker or add a brighter bulb to the lampstand.

If Jesus came to "seek and save the lost," how much more should we aim to show his love in the lostness. I ask you, "What would Jesus do?"

Shine, my friend, Shine!

Hindsight

HINDSIGHT: (definition) understanding of a situation or event only after it has happened or developed.

 As I reflect on the past year, I’m so grateful for the goodness of God. 

 2020 was a year of shaking and pruning--a year where I experienced deep pain and exponential growth. It was a year of both abiding and great awakening—a year of heartbreak and breakthrough. 

 It seems as though everything that can be shaken was shaken. Relationships tore apart, finances suffered, jobs destroyed, and lost loved ones.

2020 was hard. 

It was unexpected. 

2020 was unknown. 

And yet, God was faithful in every single moment. 

Last year granted us the choice to either lean-in or numb-out. 

We could immerse ourselves in Netflix binging, online shopping, and way too many Doritos (yes, I had those moments), or we could press in, seek God, allow Him to work within us, and draw closer. We could grumble and get bitter, or we could keep praising and allow God to change our hearts.

Pruning and producing

2020 was a painful year.

A necessary year. 

It was a revealing year.

While many of us would like to blame our behavior or our unbelief on the trials we have faced, the hard truth is that problems don’t make us bitter; instead, they expose the bitterness that is already living within us. 

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.” James 1:2-3 

Last year allowed the tilling of the soil of our hearts. Weeds have uprooted. Stones removed. I believe that the pruning we experienced last year will produce great flourishing in this next season with all of my heart. 

We are praying and believing that 2021 will be a year of Revival, Restoration, Redemption, and Returning. I think that this will be a year when the Church shines the brightest. The year 2021 will be a time for restoring relationships, bodies healed, and the prodigals return!

Treasures in the darkness

Isaiah 45:3, “I will give you treasures hidden in the darkness - secret riches. I will do this so you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, the one who calls you by name.”

 In the moments of darkness, God desires to do a more profound work in His people. He is speaking, and He is preparing you. 

 As I look back over the past year, I realize now that many of the things that appeared to be problems were God’s divine protection and provision. While we don’t always understand what God is doing, we must remember that He loves us. He is always working for our good and His glory.

I pray that you will choose to press into God. I pray that all that the pruning you have experienced would produce new life! I pray that God would deposit new dreams into your heart and that you would fully embrace His call on your life this new year! 

No matter what lies ahead in 2021, let’s seek Him with all of our hearts, desire Him with every part of our being, and continue to allow Him to do the deep work in our hearts that is necessary for us to become entirely devoted followers. 

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9 

We remain expectant and hope-filled because we know that God is our Redeemer, our Restorer, and our Vindicator! He makes all things new! The best is yet to come! 

A Weary World Rejoices

I love a good "song story," and O Holy Night does not disappoint.

The lyrics, written by a poet whose church attendance was lacking, later became an atheist—the music composed by a Jewish man who did not celebrate the birth of Jesus. Later, during the civil war, the song made its way to America, and the lyrics were sung in the north and south declaring, "Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother. His law is love, and his gospel is peace."

 During the French and Prussian war, the legend has it that this song would cease fighting for 24 hours on Christmas eve and Christmas Day when a brave young soldier stood to his feet in the middle of the fighting and declared, "O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear Saviors birth." Later, during the invention of a generator allowing voice waves to be heard over the airways, O Holy Night would be the first song heard on the radio. Soldiers on ships declared it a Christmas miracle.

 And for me—simple, no one, me. It is this line in 2020 that stops me in my tracks. "A thrill of hope a weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn." At the end of a year quite like no other year before, I realize that

Hope is what we do.

Hope is who we are.

Hope is revealed in our love for one another.

Hope is Jesus, a baby in a manger, and the Savior of the world.

This is hope.

This is why we keep going in the middle of a pandemic world where sickness and dying are all around.

This is why we choose to love our neighbors as ourselves.

This is why we celebrate at a time when it seems odd to celebrate.

This is why we hope.

This is thrilling—hope.

This is how a weary world can rejoice—hope.

This is now—a new and glorious morn is coming.

All is not lost, friends.

All is not wasted.

All did not leave us wanting because ALL of this can turn around.

All is bringing a new day, a new year, a new hope.

All is right because we have hope.

Hope is God revealing himself in what intends to tear us apart.

Hope is not for the faint of heart but for those who dare to anticipate new possibilities.

Hope is dreaming, wishing, and faith.

Hope is the courage to expect the new and trust in a God who is full of opportunity.

This is revolutionary.

This is daring.

This is justice that rolls on like a river.

This is healing.

This is unity.

This is peace.

This is the love of neighbor.

This is God.

This is HOPE.

Leading to Follow.

I wasn’t a natural born leader, not the  “who’s who” of the youth group. When I arrived on the Bible college campus I attended, I was insecure, homesick, unsure of myself, and scared. But I knew I was doing what God wanted me to do and that I was where He wanted me to be. I did not make choir (funny, because I would end up being a worship pastor) or travel with any ministry groups (this was a big deal). I often felt overlooked and I was afraid to speak up in class.

Everything changed one day when sitting in my missions class, where I remained strategically hidden for fear of being called on. The professor, David Wyns, shared about a class project that would be completed under the direction of five group leaders he would select.

As he called out those names, I was stunned that he chose me as one of the five class leaders. I thought, “No, I am not a leader. I am not the one. I have tried to stay hidden from the group so that I am not chosen. Is he not aware that I cannot do this?”

That evening as I contemplated my situation, I determined the only solution was to meet with the professor the next day and plead with him to let me step aside so the group could be led by someone more capable. When the meeting took place, I came with a carefully written list of all the reasons why I should not be one of the leaders.

When I finished talking, I said, “Brother Wyns, you have picked the wrong person to lead the group.” He responded, “No, Lisa, I have picked the right person. You just don’t know it yet.”

Moses, at his burning bush experience, tried to give many convincing arguments to God as to why others would not follow him. The underlying truth for Moses, and for all of us, is that none of these reasons have substance in light of the One who calls: “In this amazing dialogue Moses experienced the great paradox of calling: God is saying, in essence, it is all about you (because you are the one I have called) and it’s not about you at all (because it was all about me and my work in and through you).”[1]

The word leading has a variety of meanings: main, chief, prime, most significant, and most important. When compared to Jesus’s leadership model, however, none of these words or phrases seem relevant. Jesus chose to wash feet before having His feet tended to. He taught a principle of the last being first and the first being last.

Calling requires us to lead in following Christ, and part of that requirement means dying to self—taking up our cross to follow Jesus. Dying happens early in the calling process, and it happens continuously. I am a little like Peter when it comes to talk of dying—“All this talk of dying Lord—No!” But Jesus rebuked him and said, “Get thee behind me Satan.” Death and dying will always remain part of the process.

Words such as selfless, sacrificing, giving, and dying are not often-used words—at least, not by me. The connotations of the words usually bring fear that someday God may hold me accountable for the weightiness of each word. Who wants to embrace hardship?

Embracing hardship and unwanted circumstances, however, is part of the process of dying to self. It can mean sickness, loss of a loved one, loss of finances, and unwillingness to forgive, transition, and so on. The reality remains that we need jostling out of our comfortable place to die to self and lead well.

In calling and leadership, you will experience many “dark nights of the soul,” a poignant phrase written by the sixteen-century priest and poet, St. John of the Cross. Jesus spoke to His disciples about the hard road they would travel. In referring to this, author David Platt writes:

On another occasion, right after Jesus commended Peter for his confession of faith in him as “the Christ, the Son of the living God,” Jesus rebuked Peter for missing the magnitude of what this means. Like many people today, Peter wanted a Christ without a cross and a Savior without any suffering. So Jesus looked at Peter and the other disciples and said, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”[2]

 The leading to follow call means having the willingness to go to the hard places, do the hard things, and allow discomfort in life for the sake of the gospel—taking up one’s cross and following Him, wherever this may lead and whatever the cost.

So, maybe you don’t know that you’re a leader yet, but I know that God has picked the right person. You are on the road to discovery, my friend!

[1] Barton, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, 81.

[2] David Platt, Follow Me: A Call to Die. A Call to Live (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2013), 11.

For Better or For Worse

I saw a meme recently about the 1985 film Back to the Future. It illustrated a scene as Doc Brown tells Marty McFly, “Whatever you do, don’t travel to the year 2020.” Trust me, I’m not making fun of the current situation, but who could have told us that the year 2020 would end up like this? I’m not sure I would have believed them.  

As a leader, I have found myself asking a few questions (almost daily), and I ask you the same. How do we put into words what is going on in our world? How can we know what to do? How do we move forward with fear, cancellations, and social distancing as a part of our future? How can we be part of the solution and not the problem? As a leader, what is God asking of me? What role do I play in the grand scheme of the current pandemic and racial injustice?  

When I hear words like pandemic, violence, unrest, virus, fear, and death, I want to go somewhere on a deserted island and bury my head in the sand. Forget about it all and soak up some me time. Take a nap and hope that when I wake up, it was all a bad dream.   

Unfortunately, that’s not the way it happens, especially for leaders. John Maxwell said, “Managers will try to manage a crisis, but you can’t manage it, leaders will be required to lead the crisis.” As a leader, I am feeling unsure and afraid that I may make the wrong move, lead people in the wrong direction, and then say, “Clearly, that was the wrong way, let’s turn around and try the other path.” No leader wants to take that approach. It feels a little like Moses in the desert for forty years. Although it all turned out in the end, that’s a lot of wandering around in a desert! Who wants that to be their leadership legacy?  

I came across this definition for a crisis. “A stage in a sequence of events where the trend of all future events, especially for better or for worse, is determined, a turning point.”  The definition caused me to take some time for reflection. Take a moment and ask yourself the same.  

• For better, our leadership, our ideals, our personal life may need to change.  

• For better, we may need to lay down personal views and opinions to be a part of the solution and not the problem.  

• For better, we may need to look deep inside our hearts and ask God to reveal prejudices that linger there.  

• For better, we may need to learn how to lead differently.  

• Take an online class.  

• Listen to a leadership podcast or read a leadership book.  

• Prayer retreat to hear what God is speaking into a situation and direction.  

• Learn how to ___________________ (fill in the blank).  

Taking the leadership approach, for better, can lead to a strong turning point for our life and leadership journey.   

At the end of Moses’s life during one of his last leadership “hurrahs,” we see him on the highest peak at Mount Nebo, where God led him to survey the Promised Land for one last time. Scripture says he was 120-years-old, but his vigor was unimpaired (Deut 34:7). He could still climb mountains. We often think finishing well has everything to do with endings. But finishing well as a leader has everything to do with our ability to climb mountains spiritually.   

As Spirit-led leaders, we understand the paradox of wanting to bury our head in the sand or choose to climb the mountain. It is both the David and Goliath victory and then David hiding in a cave because he was afraid. It is crossing the Red Sea in triumph yet getting to the other side only to strike the rock in anger. It is Elijah calling down fire from heaven success yet defeated by the brook while the ravens feed him.  

“Life is not about comfort. It is about saying, ‘God give me another mountain.’” (Parker Palmer, A Hidden Wholeness).   

It’s not a time to stay by the water and stick our heads in the sand, but a time to lace up our hiking boots. We are climbing mountains, my friends, and the stage is set for some better or for worse turning points to occur in our life and leadership. I choose “for better.” What will you do?   

I believe that we will see the Church rise resilient in their leadership. A pandemic that stirred up much fear and trepidation will cause the Church to grow stronger in their love, unity, and relationship for one another and a lost world. I believe the 200 years of racial injustice in America will heal because of something that only the Holy Spirit can do, not one person or a group of persons. And I believe that you will win in the end, and the Spirit of God will breathe stronger and more powerful in 2020. “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8: 37-39). 

Going Uphill

I was supposed to do a triathlon this past April with a friend of mine, before the COVID-19 orders hit. I wasn’t planning on doing it because I am a great athlete (I’m not), and in fact, the tri itself was pretty minor as far as distances go. I wanted to do it because it was a new challenge to face and a goal to grab. And as it turns out, even training for minor distances is a lot of work.   

With the triathlon getting canceled and the gyms being closed, it probably sparked my interest in cycling more than I anticipated, leaving me with some sore legs, a newly bought (to me) Cannondale bike, and lots of introspective thoughts. The first thought is this: it is hard to ride a bike that is too small for you and be effective in where you are going.  

My gracious sister-in-law lent me her bike to train and use. It’s an awesome bike. It’s a bright cherry red, has a carbon fork for smooth riding, was hand constructed by my brother for her, and worked wonderfully. But nevertheless, at the end of every ride, my quads would scream, and my mind felt slow. I didn’t realize that the bike I was riding and training on was about 6 centimeters too short for me until I was introduced to a bike that actually fit. All of a sudden, the distances I wanted to ride were no longer painful, and my time to get there was more effective.   

“what was supposed to help propel me forward left me sore and hindered”

There was nothing wrong with the bike I had started riding in itself; I didn’t realize I had outgrown it, and what was supposed to help propel me forward left me sore and hindered. This begs me to ask myself internally, and you; what are you training on or using to get you to the next point that is leaving you sore and hindered? Sometimes something that may look so pretty and shiny and smooth isn’t meant to be pretty or shiny or smooth in our lives. And what we try to use as leverage for momentum leaves us with torn muscles and a discouraged spirit.   

It is okay to look for the right fit to get you where you need to go, and it is okay to appreciate what got you to where you are now. True internal growth is being thankful for whoever or whatever got you to where you are but recognizing that everything has its season (Ecclesiastes 3).   

The second thing I learned in my short time riding is this: you can make it uphill with the right pace and the right gear. If you’ve ever ridden a bike or ran, you know that inclines can feel very close to meeting eternity at times. I personally, always avoided a giant hill right past my house. The thing is, on the other side of that hill were country roads that expanded for miles and would give me a beautiful view and uncharted territory. But I feared the hill. I feared the way it would make my legs feel or the cars that would have to pass me or worse – falling at my slow trudge up it. And because of this fear, rather than going to a vast expanse of ridable road, I stayed biking circles around my neighborhood.   

“We can’t claim new territory if we don’t go there first.”

We can’t claim new territory if we don’t go there first. There are likely going to be hills that we must face to get to what is on the other side. The Bible is full of battles and struggles and thorns in sides that give examples to what we may face. But both the ride downhill and the new territory are worth the work going up.  

On my most recent ride, I finally faced the hill. I was on a bike that fit me, it was a chilly morning for riding, and I felt that I could conquer the 811-foot gain to see what was on the other side. As I rode towards the base, I downshifted slowly and began to haul my bike up the hill with a gentle and slow cadence. My position and my pace had to change to get to the top. It hurt – heck yeah it hurt – but the victory at the crest was worth it. The pain of going uphill is rarely not worth the view and celebration afterward.   

To encourage you today: start moving forward with what fits you and be confident that with a change of position and pace, you can conquer any hill in your path. Whatever is in front of you, you’ve got this because God has you. Keep moving forward, keep cheering yourself on, and keep trekking up your hills. 

Hope Revisited

It seems like I'm continually trying to grasp how to have hope in the middle of hopelessness. To learn how to look past what is reality and see through eyes of faith, not fear. To see that in the torn places of the world and life, there will once again be good. To hope that a new normal will give way to better normal and all will not be lost. 

If I'm not careful with the process of letting go of the old normal, I can allow myself to feel discouragement of plans canceled. Or in a rut of hashing over the unmet goals, dreams, and the unchecked boxes on my carefully planned to-do list that has no place in the new normal. You know what I'm talking about, we often concentrate on the hard places that felt a little harsh to handle. Ann Voskamp calls the hard places the torn places in our life. And some of the torn places actually rip us apart.

"What was intended to tear you apart, God intends it to set you apart. What has torn you, God makes a thin place to see glory."

- Ann Voskamp

There's that moment when hope is revisited, grace arrives in the torn places of the past, and hope begins for the new.

My Father passed away on November 2, 2019, and little did I know that some of his last words to me would propel me into the new of 2020. And little did I know how hard 2020 would be.

As his body was dying, his mind remained sharp. He said, "When I look at you, I see hope." As he uttered these eight, little, but significant words to me, the holiness of the moment when life transitions from death to new life, God spoke hope in the torn place. The place where I was weary from his extended illness and my heart was ripping into pieces. 

You see, my friend, In the middle of it all there's hope. In death and dying, there is hope. In misunderstanding and misfortune, there's hope. In sickness and financial difficulty, there's hope because Jesus is hope in our torn places. Although all is not good in our life, all is good because God promises "that we can with great confidence know that God is deeply concerned about us and causes all things to work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His plan and purpose (Rom 8:28 AMP)."

Death, dying, and letting go is always a part of birthing hope and granting grace. During my dad's extended illness, I felt a little like Peter when he said, "All this talk of death and dying, Lord. No. Never." There were times I wanted to scream, "Why does death have to be a part of the process? Why can't we go on living?"

Why does it take torn places to bring us into close proximity with the one who died for us? Like Jesus' rebuke to Peter, I could also hear Jesus speak to me in the stillness of the night while I sat by my dad's bedside questioning the Sovereign's intentions. Whispering that 'it's only in dying and death that hope is fulfilled." To birth new dreams, old fears need put to rest. I could hear God speaking to me to trust Him to take me to the thin place so that I may see His glory. Because sometimes we need to embrace the dying places and trust that God will make all things good. Always.

As I arrived at my dad's bedside for the last time on Friday evening, he knew I was there, but he wouldn't speak to me again. His hope was about to become a reality. His belief that Heaven is a real place. Jesus did go to prepare a place for us. Jesus is all-loving and grace. As I stood there with my mom in his final hours on earth, a holy hope entered the room. I had the realization that something bigger than me was bringing peace to the situation. That in death, I could continue to hope. That during the thin and torn places, God is taking me to a new level of trust. The journey would be difficult, but hope remains, grace abounds, and embers in our heart will blaze again with new dreams and hope-filled promise.

Thomas Watson, a Puritan preacher, wrote, "If the worst things work for good to a believer, what shall the best things? Nothing hurts the godly … all things … shall co-operate for their good, that their crosses shall be turned into blessings." So, my friend, as we revisit hope and contemplate letting go of the holy torn places, get ready for the birthing of new hope. Get prepared for your new blessings—they're on their way. Even in the middle of the torn places.

A New Normal

I came across this statement the other day, "In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth rushing back to."   

Now I admit that I'm missing a lot of things lately. The occasional dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, hugs, handshakes, face to face conversations over coffee and not the computer, not being able to visit my son Andrew and his wife Allison for Mother's Day, and worshipping collectively with a lot of people—I miss going to church.   

Right before the Stay at Home Order, I started reading John Mark Comer's book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. Isn't that funny? I think it is.   

You see, hurry kills, and the things that birth life take time and patience. Relationships take time, sitting still, and enjoying the moment takes time; listening takes time, joy, gratitude, and appreciation take time. But we've shorted ourselves of the valuable commodity of time. We've packed our days and nights so full that we are exhausted and don't have enough time to finish all that we've started.   

Thomas Merton once wrote, "the rush and pressure of modern life is a pervasive form of contemporary violence." Excellent choice of strong words, Tom—pervasive, and violence. Pervasive is an adjective that explains the unwelcome influence or physical effect of something that spreads widely throughout an area or a group of people. Violence always damages, kills, or destroys. Yep, that pretty much sums it up. That's an accurate description of the crazy rush of this modern life.   

There are fears and trepidation in the COVID-19 pandemic. It's essential to reflect on the good outcomes. The forced changes to our everyday schedules that came to a screeching halt are not adverse. Some have been a blessing. We were traveling too fast and needed to take a breath.   

One-week into the quarantine, I stepped out on my back deck one morning to breathe in the fresh air. My neighbor, four houses to the right, was standing on her deck, and she began to wave to me. A gigantic wave—a notice me wave. I waved and yelled back, "Good morning; how are you?" We carried on a brief conversation that brought a smile to my face before we said goodbye and headed back inside.  

That's a new normal for me, waving to my neighbor from my back deck. Playing Scrabble in the evenings is going to be a new normal. Appreciating a friendly hug is a new normal. A new normal is praying daily for healthcare workers. Being fully present when I'm with family and friends is a new normal because I didn't think I would not be able to see them.

John Ortberg said, "Hurry is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart." I'm taking some much-needed time to look at my heart, reflecting on what keeps me spinning plates. What's the root of the disordered schedule? What's the source of my hurry?   

In the new normal, whatever that looks like, what will you do differently? Will you love more, laugh more, be still more, read more? Will you watch out for your neighbor more? Will you ___________?   

You get the picture: something, or some things needed to change.  

Time is the great equalizer for all of us. We get the same amount of time allotted to us each day, seven days a week, 365 days in the year. Time doesn't care how much money you have. Time doesn't care if you're married, single, children, or do not have children. Time doesn't care about gender. Time doesn't care, but Jesus cares. When speaking about yokes and burdens, Jesus reminded us that His yoke is easy and His burden light. "Keep company with me, and you'll learn to live freely and lightly (Matt. 11:30, MSG)." Jesus himself escaped the busyness of the crowds occasionally to renew His strength (Mark 6:31).  

Will you? Escape? The busyness? Lean into an unhurried life? I'm waving at you from my deck, saying, "I'm in. Let's do this." Let's keep company with Jesus and learn to live a little. 

Remain Confident

Fear is common, especially in times like the past few weeks. It’s hard not to feel it, but if I’m not careful, fear can cause me to spiral into a cycle of anxiety and apprehension. Even for the most mature believer, the uncertainty of situations we can’t control and the weight of the unknowing can overwhelm our hearts and leave us wondering, “what’s next?” We look around the world right now and worry is prevalent and shared by many. It’s unsettling, but I can’t think of a better time for us to walk in the confidence of God’s reliability and to trust His goodness in our lives.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself reciting and declaring Psalm 27:13 – I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. It’s difficult to say that and not feel the peace that comes with it and an invitation for unwavering trust. The humanness in us craves clarity, especially right now when so many things are up in the air – health, finances, job security. But fear of the unknown destroys the childlike trust in the Father’s active goodness in our lives. I’ve been hearing the quiet, reassuring voice from the Holy Spirit say, “Remain confident.”

The past month has pushed many of us out of our comfort zones, forced us to slow down, and given way to feelings of extreme instability. It’s difficult to not sink into the fear of the moment, and for most, it would be expected. But I’m challenged to meet the moment with the assurance of the abiding presence of Christ. His perfect love casts out all fear. By elevating truth over facts, I am confident that we can trust that He is at work in the desert of this present moment.

Trust is hard and unwavering trust often demands a heroic degree of courage. But trust positions us to see God rightly. It positions our hearts to breathe in joy and exhale disappointment, to breathe in peace and to exhale confusion. Trust settles our hearts in the unwavering love of God. It may not automatically dispel the chaos or vanquish all uncertainties. Still, against insurmountable obstacles and without a clue as to the outcome, the trusting heart says, "Without reservation, I surrender my heart to you, because you are my loving Father."

Trust is the ultimate act of confidence in God.

One of my favorite quotes is from a psychiatrist and theologian, Gerald May. He says, “I know that God is loving and that God's love is trustworthy. I know this directly through the experience of my life. There have been plenty of times of doubt, especially when I used to believe that trusting God's goodness meant I would not be hurt. But having been hurt quite a bit, I know God's goodness goes deeper than all pleasure and pain – it embraces them both."

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. His goodness is at work even when we can’t see it. Especially in this very moment. The essence of faith in God begins by trusting God, and we can be assured that His goodness not only embraces the good and the bad - it brings meaning to both.

I don’t know what the rest of 2020 looks like – it’s already been a doozy! But I know that if I am radically loved by God, there’s no valley, desert, low point, place of confusion, disappointment, misunderstanding, anxious thought, doubt, or question that can shake my trust in Him.

He is good. Even now. Remain Confident.

Faith over Fear

Fear hovers over us like smelly feet. I want to scream, "Hey, fear! Why don't you go and wash in a little faith? You stink, and you're starting to bother me." If only it were that simple. If only we could rid ourselves of fear by shooing it away.

Our world is in a time of crisis with the COVID-19 pandemic. For most of us, it is the first time in our lives to experience something of this magnitude, and it can be easy to let fear move in on us.

Last week, I experienced a ripple effect of fear. Before I proceed with telling you what happened to me, let me give a precursor that I in no way think it compares with what is happening in our world today; however, it felt like a substantial weight while I walked through it. And the smelly feet of fear hovered all around me.

As I left work on Monday, another vehicle pulled out in front of me, with nowhere to go, I crashed into the passenger side of her car. It happened in a split second. Both of our vehicles were in bad shape and towed away, but we remained unharmed from the incident.

In the same week, I had so much excitement and anticipation for what God would do at the Roar Conference. Then, on Wednesday, we were faced with the decision to cancel or postpone the event. If you've ever poured yourself into something (an event, a project) only to have your plans change, you know the feeling. The entire Roar team was a little devastated.

On Friday, I was headed to the doctors to undergo a couple of screenings. There was the possibility that cancer had returned to my body (in a third and different area than before). I felt a little beaten down. You know the song, "I'm trading my sorrows …" but I couldn't sing the rest. I wallowed for a bit—not for long, but I was there, and fear sat with me.

For two weeks, my mind raced, wondering if the test would reveal cancer again. Fear hanging on like a giant distraction. I'm not sure who or how many people were praying for me, but on Thursday evening, I felt a great peace surround me. I wasn't doing anything super spiritual - honestly, I think we were watching television. At that moment, I simply turned to Frank and said, "Everything is going to be alright." I knew it. I could feel it. Fear left, and a wave of peace surrounded me.

“What the enemy meant for evil to bring about fear and anxiety, God came in through some practical and miraculous ways. ”

What the enemy meant for evil to bring about fear and anxiety, God came in through some practical and miraculous ways. My Jeep is in the body shop awaiting an overhaul. Still, the other persons' insurance provided me with a rental car: a Range Rover (my secret car crush). Isn't that like God? We rescheduled the Roar Conference for now, and it shows little significance to the global pandemic happening in our world, but it did rattle me a bit. And, after performing the first screening on Friday, the doctor said, "we can't find anything and feel comfortable not doing the biopsy—everything is going to be alright."

I have a t-shirt that I often wear to remind myself that faith is over fear. Every time. All the time. Faith wins. I wear it because fear can start to smell at any moment. Fear highjacks our thoughts, our relationships, and our life.

“ “Fear nullifies faith in our lives.””

Lindsay (my daughter), spoke a few weeks ago about faith and fear. Her opening statement said, "Fear nullifies faith in our lives." She had my attention. Disappointment, doubt, and deception enter our minds when fear lingers. But when faith rises, there is a quiet trust and unshakable confidence.

Right before we get to Hebrews 11, the faith chapter in the Bible, we have Hebrews 10, a call to persevere in faith. You see, just like we allow fear to hang around us like smelly feet, we are called to continue toward faith. I'm sure that the list of faith hero's in Hebrews 11 did a lot of pushing through the struggle, putting one foot in front of the other and washing their fear feet every night in some faith water.

Do you hear me? We can allow the stench of fear to stay on us, or we can wash free of fear. I choose the latter. I have wasted too much time allowing fear to hold me back.

Hebrews 10:39 is the best part of chapter 10. "But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved." Whoa! That's powerful! That verse (statement) flows right into Hebrews 11:1, "Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."

The Message paraphrases Hebrews 10:39 to say, "But we're not quitters who lose out. Oh, no! We'll stay with it and survive, trusting all the way."

Go wash that stinky stench of fear away, my friends because we're pressed but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed. I can hear you singing!!

Perspective of Possibility

Disclaimer: I am not a mom in my current season, so whenever I get around kids, the little things they do or say or how they view the world opens my eyes to the possibilities of a different perspective.

Kids are very interesting. They have no fear of the future or shame in what they’re doing. Their verbiage is often filled with “watch this!!” or “look what I can do,” and their actions are often triumphant in tasks they have done dozens of times.  Their optimism turns piles of dirt into a gourmet dish and dandelion fluffs into the fiercest blizzard you’ve ever seen.

There are no boundaries or limitations in the eyes of a child - the world is only full of possibilities. No fears, no failures, no hurts. Only possibilities. Only trust. Outfits don’t have to match, and social media feeds are non-existent. Parents are superheroes, and life is a wonderful opportunity for anything good to happen. A "no" just means there is a "yes" somewhere else, and the challenge is to find it. 

“A “no” just means there is a “yes” somewhere else, and the challenge is to find it.  ”

Children trust blindly, and while we may cringe in our experience of age, it may be – actually, it is – what God designed us for. To trust Him blindly. And the reason you and I cringe at that thought of trusting anything blindly (not God though, we never have any problems with that*) is because someone or some situation hurt us in our blind trust resulting in a wall that was never meant to be there.

*this was written in a sarcastic tone

Take a look at the Garden where Adam and Eve first discovered pain and shame. The trust they had in God was now behind a wall built by their own iniquities. And, while sad, odds are you may have a wall up in that area of trust, too. Trust in hope for the future, for your current struggle, or even for God to meet you where you are now. The child-like perspective of seeing a world of possibilities as diminished and skepticism has taken its place.

And don’t get me wrong here – I am not saying that you should walk around willy-nilly (yes, I did just say that) and trust anyone that walks up to you. The Bible is clear to guard your heart because all life flows from it (Proverbs 4:23). The issue comes in when the hurt we have against people turns into a barrier between God and us and limits the fullness of love we are to give and receive. To be honest with you, this is a tough thought for me to chew on personally in my life because, at times, I don't want to admit that I'm not letting God do what he needs to do, even though I might be.

“Every “no” or shut door isn’t a punishment because we weren’t good enough, it was a moment of protection and preparation. Every heartache was Him beckoning us to come and fully put our hearts in the Creator’s hands where it belongs. ”

As I sat in the grass watching the two little girls I was babysitting see the world in a whole new way than they saw it the day before, I was struck with awe and conviction. God designed us to see everything He has in that light. Every "no" or shut door isn't a punishment because we weren't good enough, it was a moment of protection and preparation. Every heartache was Him beckoning us to come and fully put our hearts in the Creator's hands where it belongs. Every wall that we have built up to protect ourselves from the outside, God never intended to be permanent around our hearts.

What would happen if we allowed our perspective to change, even just a little bit each day? What would happen if we blindly trusted God like we did before we ever knew the other side of pain? While it may seem scary to be vulnerable, that is a perspective that I want to have – a perspective of possibility. A perspective that God can do anything even if I can’t see it. He might even be trying to do your “anything” you’ve been hoping for right now.

So maybe let's get a little lower and a little closer to God to change our perspective. Let's blindly trust that our Father is still our superhero. And let's agree that while we may face pain, our trust and our hope is still rooted in who God is, and the world is full of possibilities.

I know it may hurt at first to lay down the barrier, but I also know what’s on the other side is so worth it. I’m cheering you on all the way – don’t be afraid of what your possibilities may be.

Created for Community.

An old African proverb says, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

I was twenty-eight years old and lonely. We moved to a new community, a new church, and I had two small children. The transition from the past to the new place wasn’t smooth. It was tainted with some heartache and weariness in doing good, and the good was unappreciated. Usually, I love new beginnings, but moving to the new place left me feeling even more isolated and alone. I longed for friendship and community but convinced myself that it wasn’t possible for me.

Two years later, I found myself in the office of a Christian counselor. I poured my heart out about my brokenness, pain, but mostly shared about my loneliness. He asked me a strange question, “Lisa, do you have any friends?” I was thirty years old, and sadly I replied, “No.” My homework assignment that day was to return next week and to have invited someone to have coffee with me. I prayed all the way home for God to open the door for friendship to me. The next morning, as I dropped the kids off to school, two ladies approached me and asked if I would like to have coffee with them that morning. God heard my prayer!

The journey of healing and creating a healthy community of women around me brought a new realization for me. I believe it is valid for all of us as women.

We are created for community. We are designed to find a tribe—your tribe.

“We are created for community. We are designed to find a tribe—your tribe.”

You were created for a tribe, my friend. In the creation story, Adam is found alone with himself, God, and the animals. Although I love our dog, Brady, his companionship just doesn't cut it. I need a face-to-face friend(s) who understands, can communicate the understanding, and enrich my life. We were created to come alongside. The word "ezer" in Genesis 2:22 speaks of "helper, coming alongside." It's the same word used many times in the Bible for God himself. For instance, Psalm 121:1-2, "I lift my eyes to the hills where does my help (ezer) comes from. My help (ezer) comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.” If the same word is used in Genesis to describe a woman, then, you were created for community, and you flourish when you have a healthy tribe to belong.

“The tribe that you belong to is a tribe much more significant than you. ”

The tribe that you belong to is a tribe much more significant than you. It’s the whole idea of “eshet chayil” in Proverbs 31. As women, we often view the passage as an exhausting checklist of how to be the perfect woman, but it is actually a poem that is recited by men to their wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, aunt, grandmothers, etc. The “eshet chayil” of Proverbs 31 translates, a woman of valor, and is equal to “you go, girl!”

“Eshet Chayil" in Jewish culture is a cheering one another on with a blessing of celebrating everything from promotions to pregnancies, to acts of mercy and justice, to battles with cancer with a hearty "eshet chayil"!

When you find the "right tribe" of eshet chayil women of valor, there's a lot of high-fives — a lot of cheering for one another.

Most importantly, your tribe connects you to other tribes and will serve as an example for the generations coming after you. When we, as women, as ezer, live out our lives the way God created us to live, the community is the natural overflow. Our experience is continually walking out the “eshet chayil” woman of valor example. The overflow of “you go, girl” creates a culture for the next generation to experience life-giving tribes of women that will cheer her on as well.

As we connect with God in a female way that brings him joy, we connect with each other in a way that glorifies God and honors the who of how he created us as ‘high five’ women of influence.

So, my friend, you were created for community. It’s a natural thing to want to belong. When you find the right tribe, it connects you to other tribes, and the generations coming after you will thank you for shining in your ‘eshet chayil’ glory. You go, girl, I’m cheering you on!

Cloudy Vision

If you're anything like me, the grey skies of winter beg you to pull out an extra dosage of some Vitamin D and buckle down until the clear skies of spring come again. The clouds of winter are thick and merciless with the taunting of a snow day that never seems to be delivered, leaving me stressed when driving through my Virginia mountain roads. I mean, who likes driving through thick fog or low-lying clouds that obscure vision and make it hard to see? That's my real problem with clouds – not that they take away the sun or tinge everything with a shade of grey, but that they block my vision of what is ahead of me.

The winter seasons in our spirit produces a cloudy vision of what God is doing or where He may be in the midst of these clouds. The sun is gone, and the shade of grey we may feel gives no sense of where God may be leading us. It’s just us in a thick fog layer, begging for any direction that may come.

“ But the cloud that is the very thing blocking your vision may be the catalyst into your upcoming season of clarity.”

I don't know what your cloudy vision may be; for me, it has a lot to do with mental health and trying to see beyond the clouds it produces. For you, it may be a loss of hope, a loss of a loved one, a disappointment in a job, or stress that you don't know how to manage. The winter has come, and it seems to cover all our hope, all our light, and all our vision. But the cloud that is the very thing blocking your vision may be the catalyst into your upcoming season of clarity.

Have you ever noticed that after it rains, the clouds dissipate? Or that a nighttime snow brings a sun shining in the morning? Physical clouds are, in fact, often a result of something changing in the atmosphere, and your spiritual cloudiness may be a result of the same factor. Your spiritual atmosphere may be changing without you even knowing it.

In my commute to work several weeks ago, as I was stuck in my own fog, I heard a pastor on a podcast bring up the scripture in Exodus 13:21; the Scripture where God led Israel out of the very captivity they were stuck in for years, by nothing other than a cloud. The very thing that may be blocking our vision might be God requiring us to follow our faith over our sight and trust in Him rather than the view or image of life that we can see ahead of us. It was the cloud that was the manifestation of the presence of God, it was the cloud that led the Israelites out of captivity, it was the cloud that brought protection to them from their enemies.

“The very thing that may be blocking our vision might be God requiring us to follow our faith over our sight and trust in Him”

I don't know what your cloud is, friend, but what I do know is that in every cloudy vision, there may be a manifestation God wants to have in our very lives. A catalyst to trust Him beyond what we see, to lead us through whatever valley we may be going through, or to protect us from attack. I challenge us to change our mindset from cloudiness as a burden to cloudiness as a manifestation. Lean into the cloud – lean into God's presence.

Your situation may be changing and creating a cloud in your line of sight, but the rain will come, and the sun will shine again. Until that moment comes, embrace the cloud before you and seek God as He leads you. It may not be time for you to see what is ahead quite yet, and that is okay. Trust that God leads us and beckons our faith to guide us over our sight. The clouds will clear eventually, but for now, just like the clouds blowing through the grey winter sky, keep moving forward and be reminded of God’s presence in the midst of it.

Feelings Are Not King

What owns you?

In other words, what rules you?  What sets the tone, pace, and jurisdiction for your life?

A ruler is a dictator or chief authority.  A ruler's word is law with no checks and balances.  The best picture of the kind of ruler I mean is a monarch or a sovereign.  In other words, a king.  A king dictates law, and laws dictate the way we live our lives.

Who is king in your life?  Truly.  A moment of honest self-examination will reveal who your “king” is.

For some people, it's achievement.  To succeed is all that matters in life, and to "win" is the sole equivalent of success.  That language sounds like, "Life is the best when I am the best."  For others, it's acceptance.  Blending in or standing out, the need for approval and acceptance looks different on different people.  Whether it's the class clown or the Homecoming Queen, it feels good to be adored - even if just for a moment.

In the past, my sovereign has been my heart.  My unbridled feelings were my king.  My unmanageable emotions were king.  Most of all, my unreliable intuition was king.  I was enslaved to them, sentenced to do their bidding.  Reason and temperance had no jurisdiction where my feelings were concerned.  (Please tell me I’m not the only one!)

It's plain to see that the world we are living in is ruled by their feelings.  Whether it be murderous anger, confusing sexuality, or intemperate anxiety, we are encouraged to allow what we're feeling to determine who we are and how we live.  I am angry, so I will behave angrily.  I am sad, so I will wallow miserably.  I am tempted, so I will indulge unapologetically.  If I do anything else, I am inauthentic.  I am lying to myself and others, hiding my "real self" in order to please a viciously judgmental minority.

Friends, feelings do not get to determine what the truth is.  They are too volatile to be trustworthy, and even the strongest instinct must bow before the truth.  We live in a post-modern, post-truth society that says truth is anything you want it to be - as long as your truth agrees with me.  Truth cannot be subjective.  Truth that is subjective is perception, and perception, at best, is a half-truth.  Or, quarter-truth.  Partial truths are partial lies, and cannot be trusted.

“Feelings should not dictate responses or behavior.”

Feelings should not dictate responses or behavior.  Feelings are fickle.  They vacillate.  They're dependent on too many variables.  Who can know the human heart?  Its depth, its strength, its ferocity?  It is a deceiver and desperately sick (Jer. 17:9).  It needs guidance and gets troubled (Proverbs 3:5. John 14:1).  Out of it comes every sort of evil (Matt. 15:19).  The heart can be a base and corrupt ruler.

“Feelings are not the supreme ruler who defines and determines who you are, what you do, or what your life should look like - Christ is that for us. ”

Feelings are not the supreme ruler who defines and determines who you are, what you do, or what your life should look like - Christ is that for us.  He alone is "the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords" (1 Tim. 6:15).  We, who call on the name of Christ, must profess that He is King.  We must guard ourselves from unknowingly, or knowingly, allowing false rulers and corrupt monarchs to slink onto the thrones of our hearts.

Women of God, if indeed, Jesus is King, then our feelings cannot take His place.  In fact, they must not.  We must not let them.  We must, as Paul says, “fight the good fight of faith” and destroy those who seek to usurp the throne of God in our lives.  Let us contend earnestly (Jude 1:3) for the faith we have been given.

For our own sake and for His glory.