Shoot the Bird

God is a God who provides. He has provided innumerable blessings for his children – breath, life, freedom, discipline, health, riches – both physical and spiritual – his Word, his Son, his Spirit. The list is never ending.

But have you ever stopped to think about the one thing he will not provide for?

Sin.

God will never make a provision for sin. 

Never. Not once.

Maybe I should clarify – God will never make a provision for the entrance into sin. He most certainly makes a provision for the way out of sin, and he most certainly makes a provision for the consequences of sin. But he will never ever make a provision for the entrance into sin.

Let me give you an example.

Years ago, I sat around a table with a group of women, and listened as one of the women shared the story of her marriage and subsequent divorce. She had gotten caught up with a man who was psychologically manipulative, sometimes downright demeaning, and harmful in more ways than one. As the story unfolded, she explained how she found herself slowly and seemingly randomly buying small things here and there, things she wouldn’t normally buy or didn’t need to buy. She would buy a brand new coffee maker and stick it in her closet, tucked away. She would buy other small appliances and things and stash them somewhere, unused. Eventually the marriage would come to blows and they divorced.

Everyone sitting around the table was listening intently as this woman went on to explain how grateful she was that God had so faithfully provided for her. She reflected on the time leading up to the divorce, and realized that those somewhat subconscious acts of buying the coffee maker and other items were in fact God’s provision, proof he had cared for her and had made a way for her to get out of the situation.

At the time, I couldn’t place my finger on it, but something about the story felt off. So very off. It nagged me and bothered me, and I always wondered if I should have said something in the moment, but I’m not sure what I would have said anyway.

And then it dawned on me:

She believed God had made a provision for her divorce.

She believed that all those little signs along the way had, in fact, been God paving the path for her to get out of her marriage.

Look, please hear and understand the heart behind this – this is not a commentary on what merits divorce and what does not. There was probably a lot to my friend's story of which I didn't have all the details.  I know there are a lot of divorced people out there, and I know my own family has been deeply and profoundly marked by divorce. I am not writing with the intent to condemn those who have been divorced. That’s not what this is about.  It's merely an example to illustrate a larger truth.

But you do need to hear and understand this – God will never make a provision for your sin or my sin, no matter how we spin it, no matter how we want to dress it up and parade it around. My friend could say all day long how God had provided for her by prompting her to do something as simple as buying a coffee maker so she could have her own ready-made set of appliances after getting a divorce, but she’s fooling herself. That most certainly was not God making a way for her.

What God does provide is a way of escape. 

He will never provide a way in, but he will always provide a way out.

“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13, ESV).

I realize now what I should have said in that moment to my friend:

Shoot the bird.

Here’s what I mean by that. (A beloved friend, Jill, shared this illustration with me years ago, who heard it from somebody, who probably heard it from somebody. So, unfortunately, I can’t cite the original source, but may the impact be powerful nevertheless.)

A woman walks into her pastor’s office and plops herself into a chair across from him while he sits at his desk. She begins pouring out all the things that are wrong in her marriage, how unhappy she is, how they’ve been miserable for so long. She said she had been praying about it all, and explains how she had this vision, one she felt was from God. It was of a bird taking flight, its wings spread wide, catching the wind and soaring. She felt like that was God telling her to take flight, that it was okay to leave her husband. She turned to the pastor and asked him what she should do in light of this vision.

His response?

Shoot the bird.

Shoot the bird.

He was effectively saying, “You can call that bird whatever you want, and believe it is some marvelous sign from above, but it most certainly is not proof of God’s permission for you to disobey him and sin. He has provided you a way of escape and that is to shoot.the.bird.”

Friends, we have got to be willing to shoot the bird.

We cannot for one second buy the delusion that God is going to make a way for our poor choices, ones we consciously know are in direct opposition to the boundaries and limitations he has set for us, ones he has made abundantly clear through the truth of his Word.

We have got to be willing to put a bullet in the bird that swoops in and tries to convince us it is okay to live contrary to what we know God has already revealed to us. We have got to be willing to send a few feathers flying and take the means of escape he has provided, whatever that way may be.

God sent his one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to the cross on Calvary and pulled the trigger on the consequences of sin. He most certainly has provided both a way out of sin and a way for the redemption of sin.

But take heed, he never has and never will provide a way into sin.

Be willing to shoot the bird when the time comes.

I'll Live to Tell About It

I am not well versed in the ways of Apple products, given the fact I own a Compaq (a company which doesn’t even exist anymore) laptop computer which will turn fourteen years old this year. Yes, you read that right - 14 years. The poor thing is maybe one step away from a needing a hand-crank to turn it on. If one year in human years equals seven years in dog years, then let’s suppose one year in human years equals 10 years in technology years. With that being the case, that means my laptop is, in fact, 140 years old. Sounds ‘bout right.

But rumor has it that Apple has this pretty cool feature called FaceTime. This is total hearsay on my part, as I also happen to have a 50-year old Android phone (remember, 1 human year = 10 technology years), so I’m assuming a lot when I say FaceTime is “cool”.  Nevertheless, notice that it’s called FaceTime. Not TextTime or SpeakTime or ChatTime. The central point to the tool is you get to lay eyes on someone’s face.

Faces matter. When you listen to the radio, don’t you always imagine the face of the deejay looking a certain way based on the way his voice sounds? And when you’re missing someone special, aren’t you picturing his or her face in your mind? Isn’t that what makes long-distance relationships so hard, the fact that you don’t get to see that significant other face to face on a regular basis? When you’ve got a friend who is trying to set you up with someone on a date, isn’t the first thing you want to see is a picture of the mystery person’s face? We love faces. They are how we identify people. They are how we detect emotions and thoughts, based on facial expressions. They are how we can tell siblings and parents and who belongs to whom, based on similar facial characteristics.  Faces matter.

Both apostles John and Paul said emphasize this several times in their letters to the churches and people of the New Testament:

“But since we were torn away from you, brothers, for a short time, in person not in heart, we endeavored the more eagerly and with great desire to see you face to face…” (1 Thessalonians 2:17, ESV) 

“…as we pray most earnestly night and day that we may see you face to face and supply what is lacking in your faith?” (1 Thessalonians 3:10, ESV) 

“Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete.” (2 John 1:12, ESV) 

“I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face. Peace be to you. The friends greet you. Greet the friends, every one of them.” (3 John 1:14, ESV)

Face time. It’s what is most critical in cultivating and sustaining relationships.

When I think about heaven, you know what I think about most? I think about seeing the face of God. If there’s anyone I want to FaceTime with, it’s God. You may have had someone ask you before, “What do you think we’ll do in heaven?” or “What do you think heaven will look like?” Some people picture harps and clouds and angels and an eternity of sunshine and rainbows. I think when we get to heaven we’ll be so busy looking at the face of God that we won’t be able to take our eyes off him. We’ll be so captivated by his beauty, his glory, his majesty – harps and clouds will hardly be what fill our minds.

But why is that significant? Why is seeing the face of God going to matter?

When the people of the Old Testament wanted to encounter God, they were always told they could not see the face of God and live to tell about it. To witness him as he was would leave them stone cold dead. He was too much for them to take in, so he would veil his glory in such a way that they would only catch what amounts to a shadow of God. When Moses asked to see the glory of God, God responded by saying in Exodus 33:19-23 (ESV):

"I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name 'The LORD.' And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. But, he said, you cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live. And the LORD said, "Behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen."

You can’t see his face and live to tell about it. Not back then anyway.

But there’s going to come a day – a sweet, beautiful, overwhelming, breathtaking day – when I’ll get to see the face of my God. Revelation 22:3-4 proclaims, “No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.”

I’ll see his face.

And live to tell about it.

I’ll see him face to face, as he is, in all his glory, and then spend all eternity proclaiming, “I have seen the face of God.”

I long for that day – when I get to see God face to face. To encounter this God, to have a never-ending session of FaceTime with him – when that day comes, that’s when I’ll realize that his face is the only face that ever mattered.

I Thought I Knew

So what do I know of you / who spoke me into motion? / Where have I even stood / but the shore along your ocean? / Are you fire? Are you fury? / Are you sacred? Are you beautiful? / So what do I know? What do I know of Holy? / I guess I thought that I had figured you out / I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about / How you were mighty to save / Those were only empty words on a page / Then I caught a glimpse of who you might be / The slightest hint of you brought me down to my knees… – Addison Road, “What Do I Know of Holy?”

I’ve had a startling revelation several times here lately, and each time it’s like I’m realizing it for the first time. I grew up in the church and made a decision to embrace Jesus as my Savior when I was just a teenager. I’ve heard about him for 32 years and have been following in his footsteps for nearly 19 of those 32 years.

And with each passing day, over and over and over again, one thing is becoming strikingly and unsettlingly clear:

I know absolutely nothing about this God I profess to believe in.

With the passing of time, I’m becoming convinced the longer I seek after him, I somehow come to know less about him.

It’s certainly not because he is revealing less – no, certainly not.

It’s because he’s revealing so much more – and in the revealing more, I’m finding he’s nothing like I thought he was. I spend my days feeling like David when he wrote Psalm 139:6, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”

The longer I follow God, the more out of reach he becomes - in this raw, majestic, infinite, unfathomable, too wonderful, unattainable, lofty kind of way.

But I was doing such a splendid job of convincing myself the other way for so very long, convinced I was making some headway in acquiring knowledge of him.

Oh, how I thought I knew Him.

I thought I knew what it meant to follow him.
I thought I knew his Word.
I thought I knew he loved me.
I thought I knew his peace.
I thought I knew what his presence felt like.
I thought I knew his strength and his power.

I thought I had him figured out.

But it turns out I know nothing.

I know nothing of this God and his love.
I know nothing of this God and his grace.

The more I come to learn about him and spend time in his presence, the more absurd and outlandish he becomes to me, in the most humbling of ways.

Because, if I’m honest, what I think I know about Him are, in fact, the fractured and broken pieces of a God I have made up. Pascal said, “God made man in his image and man returned the favor.” I have returned the favor a hundred-fold over, day in and day out, for years, if not decades. I have this image of a God who is perpetually disappointed with me and perpetually upset with me, a God who is quick to anger and slow to love, instead of slow to anger and quick to love. I got “his anger is but for a moment” and “his favor is for a lifetime” all mixed up (Psalm 30:5), and instead have come to believe his favor lasts for a moment and his anger for a lifetime. That’s the God I know.

And it’s all wrong, this picture I have of him. It’s messed up and broken. This image I have of him that I carry around is heavy and burdensome. Didn’t he say his yoke was easy and his burden light? Then why is this image I carry around of him so heavy?

Because I’m carrying around the wrong image.

I’m buckling underneath the weight of a God I have created for myself, one that does not even remotely resemble the true character of God.

You ever feel a little stunned when you think about how little you know Jesus? Especially those who have walked with him awhile, has it occurred to you that you know only about one iota more about him than what you started out knowing? We get so full of ourselves, thinking we know so much when we know so little. My God, how could we be so arrogant?

Somehow, someway, I have to do the hard work of unraveling all of these twisted and broken images I have of him in my head, these false pictures of who I think he is. The Jews wanted a savior, one to save them from Roman rule. But Jesus wasn’t a Savior like they thought of a Savior. They wanted a king to extend his hand and wield his power on their behalf. But Jesus wasn’t a King like they thought of a King. They wanted a political leader, one to usurp earthly kingdoms and establish his own rule and kingdom. But Jesus wasn’t a ruler like they thought of a ruler. They wanted a prince, one who would brandish his sword and spill the blood of their enemies. But Jesus wasn’t a Prince like they thought of a prince.

And he’s not God like I think of God.

“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the LORD. ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts,’” wrote the prophet Isaiah in Isaiah 55:8-9.

He’s not God like we think of God.

And with each passing moment, I find that he unravels all that I thought I knew about him, replacing all those wrong images with the right ones, ones where he grows bigger and bigger, and I grow smaller and smaller.

In C.S. Lewis’ classic children’s work, Prince Caspian, he captures a tender moment between Lucy, the young girl who first entered the magical land of Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Aslan, the Jesus-like Lion of the story. Lucy and her siblings are returning to Narnia after having been away for quite some time, but they have yet to encounter the great Aslan they had met in the first book. Just as Lucy was the first to enter Narnia, she, too, would be the first to encounter Aslan on their return trip:

For he was there: the huge Lion, shining white in the moonlight, with his huge black shadow underneath him…[Lucy] never stopped to think whether he was friendly or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment. And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him and putting her arms as far around his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane.

“Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan,” sobbed Lucy. “At last.”

The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into the large wise face.

“Welcome, child,” he said.

“Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.”

“That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.

“Not because you are?”

“I am not. But every you grow, you will find me bigger.”

Every year you grow, you will find Him, the True Lion, bigger.

And you will find yourself smaller.

And perhaps in Him becoming bigger and us becoming smaller, perhaps in knowing nothing, we realize one thing:

That’s all we need to know.

My Mad Money Savings Plan

I love saving money.  I like spending it, too, usually on travel, but I love saving it even more so.  If you ask my family, they would say I am a tight-wad.  If you ask me, I'm merely frugal and generally choose not to spend my money on things that most other people spend their money on.  I'm not much of a shopper, so I don't enjoy spending money on clothes, or shoes, or purses, or things like that.  I quit buying books for the most part, and instead make extensive use of the public library.  I'm not a coffee drinker, so I'm not kissing my dollars goodbye every day on a mocha latte.  Heck, I'm not even a good gift-giver, so I don't even really spend that much money on buying things for other people.  I'm just not a fan usually of buying "stuff".  When you live in 350 feet square feet, there really isn't space to acquire much "stuff".

But traveling?  There's my weakness.  Overseas, domestic, fly, drive, spring, summer, fall, winter - wherever, whenever, whatever mode of transportation is most efficient.

About a year ago, when I began planning a return trip to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, I took a look at how much I planned on spending versus how much I needed to save.  I figured if I saved my tax return, the money I made from house/pet-sitting, and any extra money I had from mileage reimbursement from work, I could save a tidy sum.  I would, of course, save some money from my regular paycheck in addition to all of that, but I knew I would need to still set aside a few extra dollars. 

It is at this point I got a little bit of a hare-brained idea. I asked myself, "I wonder how much I could save if I didn't spend any $1 bills I got back in change?"  That's a bit of a strange idea, I realize. But I decided to give it a whirl and see what happened. 

So, the deal was anytime I paid cash for something (which is what I do for all day-to-day spending) and got $1 bills in return, I would set those aside in a jar in my closet.  I started in late December 2015, and by mid-January 2016, I had saved about $80, all in one dollar bills.  By May, I had almost hit the $400 mark. 

After awhile it became a game of sorts, a self-imposed challenge.  I occasionally would need $1s to catch the bus around town, and I thought the bus driver was going to have to pry the bills out of my hand, I hated parting with the ones so much.  I would sometimes intentionally pay for a purchase with a certain amount of $10s or $20s just so I could get more dollar bills back in change.  I was now on a mission.  And I just kept watching the amount slowly grow.  As I got a certain amount set aside, I'd run to the bank and deposit it into my travel account.  Fifty dollars here, forty dollars there, maybe a hundred dollars on the rare occasion.  It would maybe take me a month or two, but I'd eventually getting around to saving a small sum.  I would jot down how much money I deposited and when, so I at least had a basic ledger to track my savings.  

I was loving my new plan and was having a ton of fun with the game.  Maybe it was a long, slow way of saving money, but it was working for me. 

Do you know how much money I saved by the time I went to Jackson last September?

Almost $600.

Think about that  - $600 in less than 10 months!  Just by not spending one dollar bills!

I was gone for two weeks and that amount paid for all of my meals and souvenir money.  It was a fabulous way to just slowly and methodically set money aside and then use that money to splurge on travel plans.

The game continues to this day.  As I save up a certain amount of $1 bills, I deposit them into my travel account.  Save, deposit, save, deposit.  Watch it add up. 

But what about you?  What's your mad money savings plan?  Maybe give my $1 bill challenge a try, and see if you can save $700 in one dollar bills in 12 months.

Creation Need Not Play to An Empty House

Life has been fairly calm as of late, which I'm certainly not complaining about.  In the quiet, though, it's made the little things stand out more so than usual.  Small moments that may seem insignificant or trivial, but ones I am grateful for nonetheless.  May I not be guilty of "despis[ing] the day of small things" (Zechariah 4:10).  I've been taking mental notes of some things here lately for which I am very grateful:

• Matching curtains! Finally! Back when I first moved into my apartment, I purchased some red curtains.  I failed to do the math and didn't buy enough panels.  When I went back to find more of what I bought, they were out.  In light of the shortage, I had been hanging this random strip of black fabric to fill the gap.  I kept checking the store every so often to see if more would come in - and lo and behold!  They got more!  Only took me about two years, but hey, I've finally got matching curtains.
• Purchasing an external hard drive - So, my personal laptop is going to officially turn 14 years old this summer.  Yes, it probably belongs in a museum, and yes, I still use it, and yes, it still works.  Buuuuuuuuut that probably won't always be true.  Figured I should probably be proactive and back everything up onto an external hard drive. It's only been on my to do list for practically 12 months.  
• Solving a problem  - My parents have a Honda Odyssey, which they have a love/hate relationship with.  Most days here lately it leans more toward the hate side.  They get rather frustrated when they find there are seemingly a dozen other Honda Odysseys in the parking lot, all of them looking exactly alike.  It makes finding theirs a bit more difficult.  I decided to solve their problem.  I bought a cheap taxi-like car topper and hand-wrote a sign on it that said, "HEY! This one is yours!" on one side.  I don't think my mom is going to be caught dead putting that thing on top of her van, even if she is annoyed that she can never find it in the seas of Hondas.  But either way, I thought it was a pretty ingenious solution.  I also bought some Ford magnets (we are a Ford family through and through - right up until my parents bought a Honda) to go over the Honda logos.

                                   

• A job I enjoy - I happen to really enjoy my job.  That hasn't always been true with this particular job I've been in now for over four years, but I genuinely enjoy getting up and going to work these days.
• Cheap gas! I was excited to see that gas was as low as $1.69, but then it got even better when I pulled up to the pump and it was listed at $1.63.  Somebody wasn't doing their job, but I wasn't going to complain.
• Just Pies - any time Just Pies is involved, it's always a good thing.  My sweet friend Jill surprised me with a strawberry rhubarb pie the other day.  So much amazingness packed inside a pie crust. 
• Dinner with Myrt - I have a dear friend from church, a woman I adore, who will turn 84-years old this May.  I had dinner with her the other night, and as I sat across the table from her, I just wanted to burst into tears, I got so overwhelmed with how grateful I am for her and how much I love her.
• Cable TV - I don't have cable at my own apartment, but I'm currently house/pet-sitting for some friends.  They have cable.  And I'm reminded of why I don't have cable at my apartment.  BECAUSE I AM AN UNPRODUCTIVE CITIZEN OF SOCIETY WHEN I HAVE CABLE. Seriously, I watch more movies on Hallmark Channel than what is deemed healthy. I turn into a lazy bum because all I do is sit around and watch TV.
• Scrapbooking - I finally got around to finishing my scrapbook of my September Wyoming trip. 
• I got crafty - I had a stash of old, empty wine bottles I had been wanting to paint and do something crafty with.  I dug through my paint drawer, discovered I had some enamel paint, which is the kind you can paint on and then bake the item in order to seal it.  So I painted my wine bottles all black, stuck them in the oven and waited for the magic to happen.  I honestly thought I would take them out of the oven and angels would descend from on high and shine a light on their awesomeness.  But they looked exactly the same as when I put them in the oven.  So, no angels, but they do make for nice racks for my bracelets. 

• Regular TV - You know, that thing people watch when they don't have cable.  I'm enamored with two shows: Victoria and This Is Us. I now plan my entire Sunday and Tuesday evenings around these shows.  Seriously, get on the Victoria and This Is Us train if you haven't already.
• Good books - I recently read The Perfect Horse, The Eighty-Dollar Champion and The Martian.  The first two are exceptional non-fiction stories.  Truly gifted story-telling.  And The Martian? Quite possibly one of the funniest books I have ever read.  It now sits on my all-time favorites list.  I had read it a year or two ago and decided to re-read it last month.  Still just as funny.
• Absent neighbors - Neighbors come and go in my apartment complex.  There was one set of neighbors who lived above me - how shall I put it? - let's just say I was very aware of their love life.  Very.  They have since been evicted, I'm assuming for reasons other than their crazy loud love life.  The people who now live there are in a band.  Yes.  Guitar- and bongo-playing kind of band.  I've heard enough "Proud Mary" and other classic rock songs to last me a lifetime.  They've been gone for the last two weeks.  Can't say that I'm the least bit bothered by this fact.
• My niece and her birthday party - One of my nieces recently turned five.  She insisted on a Star Wars theme.  She was decked out in a Princess Leia costume and went running around yielding a light-saber.  But the best part?  Her birthday cake.  Which was Tinker Bell.  May the fairy dust be with you.  

• Tears spilled over a friend I still miss - As hard as it is for me to believe, it will be five years tomorrow since Jonathan died. A couple of weeks back, our worship band at church sang the song "Never Once" by Matt Redman, which also happened to be a song that was played at Jonathan's funeral.  I cried through most of it.  I still miss him.  One of my most profound regrets in life is that I have no pictures of Jonathan and I together.  I don't know why that bothers me so much, but I just wish I had a picture of the two of us together.  It wouldn't make the reality of him being gone any less real - and it doesn't make the memories of him any less real by not having a tangible photo - but I still wish.  But regardless, I'm thankful for my friend and the tender memories of him.  

It's the little things that add up over time, that make a dent, that remind us of the small things that make up the big things. I'm grateful for the small things.

“We are here to abet creation and to witness it, to notice each thing so each thing gets noticed. Together we notice not only each mountain shadow and each stone on the beach but we notice each other's beautiful face and complex nature so that creation need not play to an empty house.” - Anne Dillard   

2016: Year in Review

I rather like this little tradition of reflecting on the previous year.  This is only the third year I've done it, and I realize probably no one else cares about the seemingly mundane play-by-play of my life for the last year.  But it's proven to be a good exercise for me, to dredge up my journals and flip back through the pages and see all that God has been up to in the last 365 days.  I think these are important exercises, these ponderings of God's faithfulness.  It keeps us rooted, helps remind us of how God orchestrates so many details of our lives, in ways we never expected.

Life comes in seasons and I think 2016 was a season marked by calibration, hitting pause on some aspects of my life and my involvement at my local church, while still moving forward in other areas.

With that, I present to you my 2016, month-by-month, based on entries from my journals:

January: Over Christmas break last year, I decided to finally sit down and start writing a Bible study a couple of friends had been pestering me about.  I had been toiling with the idea for awhile but just kept putting it off.  I wrote I don't know how many lessons over the break and continued into January.  I jotted down in my journal, "It's been awhile since my heart has burned quite like this over a message or a concept.  I'm not sure what God is up to but I sense that the material he is taking me through will lead to something."  I think it led mainly to growth and change for me, as I don't know that the completed study will ever see the light of day again.  But whether it goes anywhere or not doesn't matter - I needed to be obedient to write.  I also started plotting a return trip to Jackson with my friend, Kristen.

February: Whisperings of "Teach my Word" came to me at the IF: Gathering, a nudge, a prompt I kept hearing from the Holy Spirit.  I wasn't sure what to do about it.  I felt like the men on the road to Emmaus, my heart burning with me as I read the Bible.

March: I was still working on the Bible study I had started over Christmas break.  It was exposing a lot of insecurities and doubts.  I desperately wanted to abandon it, but felt compelled to forge ahead.

April: I watched the documentary Unbranded (it really is quite spectacular and I highly recommend it) and my dreams of Jackson rose to the surface all over again.  I had at this point already booked a return flight and was eager to be there already.

May: I wrestled with involvement and commitment to my local church.  It's a long story, but I eventually stepped down from every volunteer role I was involved with, including leading a women's small group and working in the nursery.  I felt restless and out of sorts and uncertain about so many things there and I really didn't know what all of those feelings meant.  Nothing bad was happening, just the church was growing and changing, and I struggled to grow and change with it.

June: My doctor put me on a "wellness plan" as one friend called it, as opposed to a diet.  I was having some chronic health issues and he wanted to sleuth out some things.  It's the healthiest I've ever eaten in my entire life.  I loved it but it was a lot of work.  My dad also went on a diet and has lost something like 70 pounds since then.  I'm so proud of him.  I'm a little less proud of myself because the first day my diet ended, I basically binged on everything I hadn't eaten in a month.  (I happened to buy a t-shirt yesterday at JC Penney's that maybe represents my philosophy on food: "Wish me luck in the Olympics.  Just kidding, I'm on my fifth cupcake.)

Meanwhile at church, I'm still wrestling.  I wrote in my journal on June 26: "I think really at the end of the day I need to a) get an attitude adjustment and b) get over myself."  Story of my life.

July: "I feel so out of sorts with all the changes at work and church, and I just feel disjointed and disoriented.  I don't feel rooted."  At work, we were hiring about 20 new staff and there were some cultural shifts occurring, in a parallel vein to some degree of how my local church was changing.  Just a lot of growth and changes, and I realized I don't embrace change as well as I thought I did.

August: Nothing much must have happened because I didn't bother to write anything.

September: Ah, sweet Jackson.  I flew back to Jackson Hole for two weeks. I bummed around one week with my dear friend Kristen and then spent the second week by myself.  There is truly no place on Planet Earth I love more (except maybe my current location) than this corner of Wyoming.  I always pack a book or two while traveling and while I had already read this one once, I re-read the book I Don't Wait Anymore by Grace Thornton.  Necessary and encouraging.  I highly recommend it.

October: I celebrated my birthday, and as it always seems with the occasional birthday, my life suddenly felt very small and safe.  I realized I was holding on to so many fears.  I kept thinking about the quote from the movie You've Got Mail, "Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"

November: Well, the obvious happened.  Donald Trump became POTUS. I don't normally comment on external events in my journals, but I felt the need to document this event in history.  I also attended one of Beth Moore's Living Proof Live events and I heard the same words whispered over me that I heard back in February at the IF: Gathering: Teach my Word. Oh, and I went to the Big Game. 

December: I actually registered late in November, but I signed up to go to a conference in Houston, hosted by Beth Moore.  This is not her usual Living Proof event, but will focus instead on women in their 20s and 30s who feel called to teach, write or speak.  After all that had been happening this year in light of what the Holy Spirit had been prompting in me, I felt strongly about going.  The event sold out in less than 5 minutes, but I got a ticket.  A prerequisite for the conference is to complete her Entrusted study, which I started with my friend Alex.  It's been really good so far and I'm eager to plow through the rest of it and then head to Houston.

So what will 2017 hold?  Time will tell.  Give me about another 367 days and you'll find out in my 2017 year-in-review.

Cheers.  

Out of Darkness: Christmas Remix

I originally wrote this blog post in August of 2010.  I was living in Kenya at the time, a small corner of the "Dark Continent," and the concept of darkness was inescapable.  I was pondering this idea anew here at Christmas, so the post below is one part archive, and one part fresh words...

From the time I moved into my office during grad school, I had a map of the world hanging on the wall. But it wasn't your usual map, plotting out roads and towns and landmarks and topography. It was a map of the world at night, a composite image of satellite photos taken over the course of time. I've always had a fascination with maps ever since I was a child, but this one in particular has always captivated me. Maybe because I wondered what it meant for all those lights to be on at night - it meant people were working and living and doing, right?

But what of those places that had few, if any, little yellow dots indicating that electrical currents were flowing freely? Was life happening for them? Were they not able to work or were they merely working under the cover of darkness?

For some time now, I've been haunted by a particular concept in Scripture. It seems I can't escape it and my thoughts often turn to it when I'm studying. I first stumbled across the idea while doing one of Beth Moore's studies. From there it has spawned a hundred different thoughts and caused me to trace the concept across the pages of God's Word, but I'm always left asking the same question: What is the connection between work and darkness?

If you look in Leviticus 16:29-30, it says, "This is to be lasting ordinance for you: On the tenth day of the seventh month you must deny yourselves and not do any work - because on this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you." But connect the dots with me over to Luke 23:44 where it says, "It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two."

You see, when the sun stopped shining, the Father and the Son went to work. Atonement was being made for the people under the cover of darkness. It's pitch black outside and now no one can work. The only person working was the Son.

And from Genesis to Revelation, from the first page of the Bible to the very last, I think this concept holds true. Now, I'm no Hebrew or Greek scholar, so I'm sure there is a lot to the language that I would need to really dig into to confirm this, but even without such academic understanding, it's still saying the same thing: God goes to work when it's darkest. Out of the darkness, God called forth the light when he formed the earth (Genesis 1:1-5). Out of the darkness, God caused a deep sleep to come over Adam and God went to work forming woman (Genesis 2:21-22). Out of the darkness, God brought a darkness over Abram and made a covenant with him (Genesis 15:12-21).

And of out darkness, he sent a baby boy to burst forth into glorious light.  A baby born under the cover of shadows.  There were no night lights, no flood lights, no street lamps, no flash lights, no headlights, no mega-watt spotlights shining down.  Only a star high in the heavens.  

And darkness. 

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and [Mary] gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.  And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night (Luke 2:6-8).

At night.  

Out of darkness, God brings forth light.  

Years later, when darkness reigned yet again, God sent his one and only Son to die on the cross, making the ultimate atonement for his people.

Jesus was born under cover of darkness and he would die under cover of darkness.

But it will be out of the darkness when God says,  "I have no more need for you, night and darkness and shadows and blackness, no more need for you because I have completed the work I set out to do.  So let there be light."  Revelation 22:4-5 says, "They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light." There will come a day when there will no longer be a need for darkness because the work of atonement will be finished.

I know I didn't see the worst of the worst in Africa, but I saw enough to know it was just on the other side. And I wondered sometimes if God was working there. I looked into the faces of the people, and looked into their eyes, and I wondered what hope they had. I looked out over the land where all I saw was desperation and despair at times and I wondered how God was working in the face of it all. I wondered if any work was being done on the Dark Continent.

But then I remembered that map of the world at night. If I looked at the world based only on strength of light, Africa might as well not exist. It's nothing but darkness except for a few small corners of it. And as I pondered that map, I remembered God is a God who does his best work under the cover of darkness. He's out to redeem his people - the orphans, the widows, the sick, the hungry, the poor. Am I saying His work is being done exclusively in Africa and not elsewhere? Of course not. God cannot be so confined and I cannot be so foolish to believe that it is only in darkness that he works.

But whether darkness or light, I know God is working there - and here - and everywhere else in between. It is worth noting that He is not the God of darkness - but he is the God who takes the darkness into something beautiful and bright.  James 1:17 says, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  He does not change like the shifting shadows, but he sure does use those shadows to his glory, the Father of heavenly lights.

"Into marvelous light I'm running, out of darkness..."

Out of darkness, God sent a baby boy, the Light of the World.  Into the arms of Marvelous Light may we run this Christmas.  

"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.' " - 2 Corinthians 4:6

Five Questions We Must Wrestle With

If you search for the question mark symbol in any Bible software, you will discover several things:

1) There are roughly 2,540 questions found in the Bible (at least in the King James Version, which is what I searched), with 1,710 in the Old Testament and 830 in the New Testament. 

2) The book of Job has the most questions, coming in with a whopping 230 questions. Luke, John and Matthew follow suit behind Job with 145, 144, and 143 questions, respectively. 

3) Of the 66 books in the Bible, only 5 ask no questions: 2 Timothy, Titus, 2 John, 3 John, and Jude.

Over twenty-five hundred questions.

That seems like an awful lot of questions to me.

Maybe because I do not consider myself a naturally curious person, nor am I a good question-asker. I remember once in college, mentioning to a friend of mine, “Why does it always seem we spend a lot of our time and conversations talking about me?” His response? “Because you never bother to ask any questions about me.” Zing. It’s just not my instinct to ask a lot of questions. Probably because a vast majority of the time I just don’t simply care enough, which I hate admitting. And if I’m really honest, I’m too self-absorbed at times to really want to open my eyes to the lives of others. I also hate admitting to that as well. I've had to learn to develop the skill over time of asking good questions, of being intentional and mindful in conversations with others, making a point to prompt and pursue. There is a certain art form to the skill, and more often than not, my abilities are woefully lacking. That’s why people who are curious, ever asking questions and wanting to know more, astound me. And not just asking any ol’ lame series of questions, but asking thoughtful and meaningful questions. I envy that talent.

It’s also why sometimes Jesus flat out does not make sense to me.

For a guy who supposedly knows it all, he asks a lot of questions.

Consider the gospel of John, for instance.

In that book there are 144 questions, roughly 51 of which Jesus himself asks, which means he is asking nearly 35% of the questions in the book.

Why? Why does the God who knows all things, sees all things, and understands all things, bother with asking questions? Doesn't that strike you odd? He certainly doesn't need to know the answers for himself. Asking the questions in no way increases his knowledge – he already knows everything there is to know. Asking the questions in no way changes his understanding or enhances his perspective – he already knows the answers long before we ever utter them.

So why does the God of the universe bother ever inquiring anything of anyone?

Because sometimes questions are far less about the one asking them and far more about the ones answering them.

There are a lot of questions we must answer in this life, although the specifics on which questions we answer will vary from person to person. We could dissect a lot of the questions Jesus asks in the Bible, but I believe there are 5 integral questions Jesus asks directly to his audience in the gospel of John, and by extension, five questions he asks of us as his followers:

1) “Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)

2) “If I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me?” (John 8:46)

3) “Will you really lay down your life for me?” (John 13:38)

4) “Don’t you know me, ever after I have been among you for such a long time?” (John 14:9)

5) “Is this your own idea or did others talk to you about me?” (John 18:34)

And when I say we must be willing to answer these 5 questions I really mean I must be willing to answer these questions.  I ask them of myself long before I ever ask them of others.

Let’s take the first one – “Do you want to get well?” In this particular instance, Jesus is asking it of a man who had been facing a disability of some sort for 38 years. Uh, Jesus, don’t you think a man who has been disabled for 38 years would like to be well? What kind of question is that? But Jesus knows this man – and knows us – and he knows that sometimes when we are sick for so long, we often decide it’s just easier to keep on living that way rather than doing the hard work of healing.

 And I think Jesus is ultimately not asking this man if he wants to be physically well, although that is part of it, he’s asking if the man wants to be mentally, emotionally and spiritually well. Sometimes it’s not our bodies that need healing, but our minds and hearts. When we live in certain sins, certain fears, certain hurts for so long, we decide they are just easier to live with than to live without them. We wear them like a security blanket, more terrified of being whole and healthy than we are of being whatever sickness and debilitation we might have presently, physical or otherwise.

To the second question – “If I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me?” If Jesus is telling the truth, why don’t we believe him? In not believing him, then we hold that the converse is true: he is a liar. He’s either one or the other – he’s either telling the truth and we must believe him, or he’s lying and we should walk away from him. But we believe him to be telling the truth, right? At least we pay lip service to believing him anyway. Our lives and our actions so often say otherwise. We must deal with this root of unbelief that so many of us harbor. Hold up. I probably shouldn't speak for anyone else; I must deal with this root of unbelief that I harbor. Because if I really, truly think he is telling the truth, then I must oust all other options contrary to believing him.

To the third question – “Will you really lay down your life for me?” Perhaps this one is toughest to answer, the one we least want to answer. Will we really lay down our lives for him, to sacrifice all that we have and all that we are to follow him? This is the question I am most likely to avoid because the answer is the one I most want to skip over. It’s the question that leaves us the most uncomfortable, I think especially for North American Christians. For the most part, we have no concept of what it means to literally lay down our lives for the sake of Jesus and the gospel, at least relative to the rest of the world. Oh, we have this hazy vague notion of it and we think we know what it means, but we think fasting from Starbucks for a month is the same as laying down our lives for Jesus. We must be willing to confront this question head on – even if the answer scares us.

To the fourth question – “Don’t you know me, even after I have been among you for such a long time?” Some of us have followed Jesus for quite some time. And yet we still find ourselves plagued with doubts and worries, living in bondage to our fears and insecurities. It’s a question of insult – we are insulting his very nature when we doubt him and shake our fists at him, demanding he behave. Don’t we know who he is, even after he has been with us for so long and shown himself faithful time and again? Don’t we know how far he has carried us, through each and every season of our lives? Don’t we know that the God who commands the waves to cease and the rains to dry up is still the one who is very aware of our every heartbeat, our every care, and our every concern? How do we not know all of that by now? What fools we are! How quickly we forget! He has been with us for such a long time and has never given us reason to doubt him, yet we who have been with him for such a long time have such a short memory.

And to the last question – “Is this your own idea or did others talk to you about me?” Have you sought out Jesus for yourself, or are you hoping to get a second-hand helping of him? Are you hoping through some form of osmosis that you pick up some idea of Jesus through your pastor or your Bible study leader or some podcast? There are a lot of people saying a lot of things about Jesus, but are you coming up with your own ideas about Jesus? Are you exploring the Word for yourself? Not that our pastors and Bible study leaders and podcasts and whatever other materials out there are bad, but neither are they to be the ultimate, and neither are we to be dependent on them for our spiritual nourishment and the formation of our theology. You want to know Jesus? Then go to the source Himself.

Uncomfortable questions, aren't they? At least they are for me. I’d really prefer to gloss over most of them. But Jesus doesn't ask these questions for his benefit – he asks them for our benefit. And that means we have to be willing to wrestle with them, to deal with all of the doubt and unbelief they may or may not reveal. We have to allow these questions to reveal who we really are. For we are just like the man beside the pool, sick in our depravity for decades on end, claiming that we have done everything we can to get to the healing waters, claiming there is no one there to help us. It is only when we look up and find the Healing Waters standing right there before us, asking us, “Do you want to get well?” that we find out just how bad we want to answer that question with “Yes, I want to get well."

How a Football Game is Like Going to Church

Josh and me taking a selfie with Kirk Herbstreit

Sports Illustrated recently conducted a poll asking football fans what football is more important than.  Over 26% said football was more important than religion.  Twenty.six.percent.  Y'all.  A quarter of the population.  

I witnessed this first hand yesterday.  

  

I managed to snag tickets to this year's rivalry game between Ohio State and Michigan.  I have been to other OSU games, but I had not witnessed this storied rivalry in person.  I had debated for awhile about who to take with me, when I remembered the fact I have two brothers.  The only dilemma being I had one ticket.  I realized this could get dicey.  I tried to play it as objectively as I could, texting both of them asking if they had previously been to the OSU-Michigan game before.  One had, the other hadn't.  Perfect.  Problem solved without resorting to a coin toss or a domestic dispute.    

We hopped on an early bus down to campus, sparing ourselves the hassle of parking.  We wandered over to the set of Game Day and then headed to St. John Arena for the Skull Session.  We people watched for awhile before heading to our seats, settling in for what proved to be an epic game.  

As we sat watching the game, crammed shoulder to shoulder with a record crowd of 110,045 people, I had the sudden and involuntary realization that going to a football game is a lot like going to church.  I know, an odd connection to make.  And probably a slightly irreverent one, but roll with me here.  Allow me to present to you this tongue-in-cheek list of similarities I reflected on yesterday amidst first downs (even if one of them was highly disputed) and touchdowns:  

1) There are a lot of lost people at church and at a football games.  My brother and I watched one poor soul go looking for his seat a few rows below us.  He started to climb over people, realizing that none of them looked familiar, and then he realized he wasn't in the right place.  He stood in the aisle, looking up and down the section, pulled out his ticket stub to verify, muttering under his breath, and he still couldn't figure it out.  So then he just stood there and drank his beer for a few, acting like he knew exactly what he was doing.  I'm not sure if he ever found his seat or not. 

2) You get the occasional unsolicited hug and handshake.  My brother sat next to a slightly tipsy young alum who felt the need to side hug my brother in celebration of Ohio State scoring, with the occasional slap on the back.  I don't know that my brother was a fan of those moments.  I'm also not a fan of the the blasted "turn and greet your neighbor" moments at church.  Thankfully my church has done away with them and I will be forever grateful.  I just think they are awkward and I groan out loud every time I am subjected to them.  Just ask anybody sitting around me at the time.  

3) Sometimes tacos get served at church events and dinners.  Taco definitely got served yesterday.

4) There's a lot of standing and then sitting, and then standing again, and then sitting again.  'Bout the time I sat down yesterday at the game is about the time everyone around me felt the need to stand up, so up I went.  And then we'd all sit down.  And then somebody would make a play, so then we'd all stand up.  If you've been to church, you know exactly what I'm talking about.  

5) Group singing.  At football games we feel the need to sing things like "Hang on Sloopy."  No different than church where we sing the same song on refrain for about 4 verses.

6) Praying. Lots and lots and lots of praying.  And then some more prayers.  God clearly heard the prayers of Buckeye fans yesterday.  

7) Running around and waving flags.  If you're a little more on the charismatic side of faith, you'll get this one.  At the start of every Ohio State game, they send their cheerleaders and pep squad running around the field with flags.  We also add fireworks at our games, and I don't know of any churches that have those, but they should maybe consider adding those sometime.  Make for some real serious moments with the Spirit.  

8) You give tithes and offerings.  At football games, this means paying $9 for a cup of hot chocolate.  Which also happened to be the same price of a premium beer.  Welcome to a college football game in November in a cold northern state.  You'll definitely have to pass the offering bags to be able to afford this one.

9) It's a pain to get in and out of the parking lot.  You know you've been to that church where they have their own cop stationed out in the road, just to direct traffic and get everybody in and out safely.  At least we don't pay to pay $20 to park, unlike at football games.  My brother and I did spot a sign for parking spots down near the stadium.  For $100.  All proceeds went to charity, of course.  

10) We've got a band leading worship.  Ours just does it with a little more flare than most bands.

11) There's lots of hand-raising and waving.  My brother and I started to take stock of the varieties of waves and fist-shaking that occur in a game.   You've got the windshield wipers.  You've got the awkward beauty-pageant style waves.  You've got the abrupt wavers whose arms suddenly bolt into the air like they've been shocked with a bolt of electricity.  Tim Hawkins' hand-raising video could easily apply to football games. 

12) There are occasional outbursts of spontaneous yelling.  At football games it's usually the f-bomb when our team screws up.  One guy behind us felt the need to yell at Urban Meyer a lot.  "Open up the playbook, Urban!"  "Turn the page of the playbook, Urban!"  He just kept saying that over and over again.  I kind of wanted to tell him to come up with a new line.  Yell all you want, but geez, at least change it up every now and then.  At church it's usually "amen" and "preach it."

13) Sometimes you hit overtime. You know, as the Spirit so moves.  Except when you hit overtime during a church service, most people are starting to wonder where they are going to eat for lunch.  When we hit overtime yesterday against Michigan, my brother and I wondered if we should stay in case the game turned in our favor, or whether to go so we could beat the crowd should the game descend into a loss.  Glad we stayed.    

14)  There is the occasional shoving match.  In football games, these are usually between 250-pound linemen, broken up by referees.  In church, these are usually between 25-pound toddlers, broken up by preschool teachers.

15) Inevitably there are penalty flags. Most penalty flags in church get thrown when you find someone sitting in your seat.  The same seat you have sat in for the last decade.  How could these people not know that was your seat?!  Totally a penalty. 

16) Play calling.  On the sidelines this usually looks like a string of guys standing next to each other , all looking like they had a bee fly down their pants.  In church, this is the worship leader trying to subtly to signal to the band repeat the chorus a few more times.  You know, a hand in the air here, a few raised eyebrows there, a vigorous head nod to emphasize the point.

17) Who doesn't love a good half-time show?  This is also called coffee and donuts at church.  This is where everybody scatters to get some sustenance before returning to their seats for the remainder of the game.  

18) There's always the occasional headset malfunction or problem.  Thankfully I haven't seen my pastor do this yet when he's annoyed with his hands-free microphone.

Like I said, going to a football game is just like going to church.  

Better luck next year, Michigan.  Drink some milk in the meantime.  It does a body good.      

Permission to Long

Ah, the holidays. How I love you and occasionally dislike you. You conjure up feelings of nostalgia and romanticism and sentimentality. While simultaneously conjuring up feelings of annoyance and a deep desire to vow to abstain from all future family gatherings and holiday hubbub. What exactly is it about the holidays that so effortlessly brings out the crazy in us all? And what exactly is it about the holidays that make us single folks feel a little unhinged? 

I’d like to be married right now. Or maybe at least have a boyfriend. The holidays seem to resurrect that feeling more so now than any other time of the year. I occasionally need someone to kill the bugs in my apartment (seriously, I mildly freak out over the house centipedes that take up residence in my little space), deal with my car when it needs repairs, send me flowers when I’m having a crappy day (or even when I’m not), buy me a pie from Just Pies when I least expect it, be my bodyguard when I’m traveling overseas, and generally be my knight in shining armor. 

Alas, there is no boyfriend and no husband on the horizon line.

And I think far too often it’s easy for those of us who are single to look around at all that we don’t have, namely a ring on our left hand and a new last name, and want to just camp out in sadness over that fact. I made a decision a long time ago I didn’t want to join that camp. Certainly not because I don’t want those things. I do. I deeply desire them. I just know those things will never complete me or satisfy me.    

Maybe your story is a little different, and maybe marriage isn’t what you long for because you’re already married. Or maybe you’re longing for a different career. Or maybe a different life in a different city with a different start. Or maybe children scampering around the foot of your bed. Or maybe a home to call your own instead of a stuffy apartment or your parents’ basement. Or maybe a different family with a little less insanity.   

We’ve all got them, these things we long for, these things we desire and hope to see come to fruition.

Somewhere along the way, though, a few of us have made the mistake of equating desire with destiny. “Because I want this and have this desire in my heart, therefore, that must mean God will give it to me. I wouldn’t feel this way unless God was going to do something about it. If he wasn't going to give it to me, he would take the desire away.”

Just because I want to be married doesn’t mean God is going to give me a husband. One does not automatically equal another. Not to say that he won’t, but it also doesn’t mean that he will. Desire does not equal destiny.
   
But what am I to do about that? What am I to do with the longings that roll around in my heart and my head, and not just longings for a husband, but also the random assortment of other things I long for? Am I just supposed to squelch them? Am I supposed to stuff them down and never speak of them and never bring them to the surface? Am I to deny what I feel?

I believe the answer is no ultimately. No, I am not to squelch them, to act like those longings don’t exist. No, I am not to deny them. No, I am not to just shake my fist at God and say how dare you not give this to me when this is all I've wanted.

But I am to place them properly in God’s hands. Safely and rightly where they belong. Because I realized something the other day: I do have permission to long for these things. I have permission to place them before God, to ask Him for these things, to pray for these things. However, I am to remember if there is anything I long for, it is ultimately an echo and a reflection of a much larger story being told about longing. Paul emphasizes this in 2 Timothy 4:8, “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."

If we long for anything, let us long for Jesus’ appearing. And let us remember that the longing highlighted in 2 Timothy is the banner that hangs high above all other longings, the longing that is written deep into our hearts.     

If we long for another life, different from the one we have, it’s because we know in our hearts, there’s another life yet to be lived, an eternal life. 

If we long for a permanent home, it’s because we know there is a home waiting for us, an eternal home.  

If we long for a wedding day, it’s because we know there is a true marriage waiting for us, one where we will sit down to a feast and celebrate forever and ever.

If we long for a husband, it’s because in our hearts we know there’s already a groom, an Eternal One.

If we long for perfection, it’s because in our hearts we know there is One who is perfect. 

If we long to never grow old, to never age, to never wither, it’s because we know in our hearts there is a life unending waiting for us. 

If we long to belong, to fit in somewhere, it’s because we know we’re all orphans, up for adoption, but gladly welcomed into the family of Jesus Christ. 

If we are longing for a body that works and doesn’t creak when we get out of bed in the morning, it’s because we know one day there will be a body that never fails. 

Whatever is deficient in us here, or whatever longings we might have on this side of heaven, they are there as echoes, indicators and reminders of a greater reality.

We have permission to long for a home, a family, a child, a sense of belonging, a wedding day, a husband – to desire things that reflect the heart of the Father. 

But hold to them loosely. Hold them with open hands and trust if there is ever a longing tucked inside our hearts, it's a longing that should point us to the Keeper of all that we have ever hoped and longed for: Jesus.