Impossible Situations March 19, 2009

In John 6, as John recounts the story we call the feeding of the 5000, Jesus asks an interesting question:

“When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, ‘Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?’ He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.”            – John 6:5-6

Somehow, for all the times I’ve read and studied this passage, I’ve missed this question. The passage tells us that Jesus asks the question for a specific reason: to test Philip.

So, Philip gets all worked up about it. (We can’t fault him. You know that’s exactly what we’d do, too!) He tells Jesus that 8 months wages wouldn’t buy enough bread for each person present to have a bite.

Did Philip fail Jesus’ test?

Sometimes in life, I feel like the answer must be coming, but the situation before me seems impossible. Implausible. Unbelievable. I feel like if I had many more resources, I still could not accomplish the task. It can be frustrating, because although I am sure that God is working something on my behalf, I don’t always see His hand.

Is it possible that, through each difficult situation, God is pausing for a moment so that I can grasp how fully impossible it would be to effect the desired outcome on my own? So that I can grapple with just how far my own resources fall short to meet the present need?

When Jesus asked the question of Philip, we must remember that he already had in mind what he would do. Jesus already knew that a miracle was required. He seems to want the disciples to fully comprehend the need for a miracle, as well.

Perhaps sometimes God is allowing us to grasp the full need for a miracle on our behalf; the time to survey the situation, the grace to recognize our own inability to remedy it, and the opportunity to look to Him to see what He already has in mind. Each day, I am realizing more and more my full reliance on Him. How is that working out in your life?

Colliding with the Love of Jesus March 18, 2009

Last week, I had a near-collision with the Love of Jesus Thrift Truck. When the letters of his vehicle came clearly into focus just inches infront of my face as he cut across three lanes of traffic, I thought we both might be in serious trouble. Fortunately, I was able to careen around him, and collected myself in the right lane for a good hundred yards or so. Then, as I turned onto the windy road that leads to my home, I began to think it all through.

Maybe, I thought, it’s some sort of metaphor for life. Does the love of our Lord truly cut us off sometimes? I hope so. If I’m moving along at the speed of life and need to be reminded of the presence of our Holy God, or redirected by His hand, I want Him to intervene. I want Him to show up big, just inches from my face. I want Him to get my attention, and to leave my heart racing.

I was just reading yesterday from Joanna Weaver’s latest book, Having a Mary Spirit, how sometimes God confounds us until we move in the direction He desires. She likens this to a wild horse’s trainer, who constantly confounds the horse, sending it in the opposite direction than it desires to go, until it is broken.

I can relate to her words. Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit confounded. Like I’m sometimes pulling against what my Maker has designed me to do. Like He is steadily redirecting me; moving me back to His higher purpose for my life.

When I really think about it, I feel like I have collided with the love of Jesus. It’s amazing to me that He takes the time to track us down, heading along whatever roads we have chosen, and moves us lovingly back into His best. I’m so glad He does.

(By the time I figured all of this out, I was no longer angry with the truck’s driver. Hey – maybe he was just an angel on special assignment. Unless, of course, you’re the driver and you’re reading this…in which case, you really should have been a bit more careful…I almost ran into you, buddy!)

Light, not heat February 27, 2009

“The thing to do is to add light, not heat, to the situation.” -Woodrow Wilson

Interesting quote, isn’t it? Especially since Jesus also called us to be light to our world.

I wish I was naturally given to illuminating the situation when I’m under pressure, instead of getting really angry! Instead, I’m often guilty of adding heat, rather than light, when I am hard pressed. I’m guilt of reacting, instead of responding.

Left alone, we find ourselves in darkness. With the flip of the switch (or the swipe of a match) we can have light. Therein lies the problem. Light-filled living takes effort.

When I am in a confrontation, I have a choice. I can allow a hot-tempered response, stemming from the dark parts of my soul, or I can choose to be light. I can choose self-control. I can choose my words. It’s difficult, but necessary, if I am truly a Christ-follower.

The Chase January 9, 2009

Today, I looked up to see blue lights in my rear view mirror. Wait…before you start to sympathize with me, let me tell you that I wasn’t the one they were after.

Seriously, what I’m about to tell you is like something out of the TV show COPS, so prepare yourself. 

Here is how it went down: I was driving down Staples Mill Road in the West End of Richmond (total suburbia for those of you who don’t call Richmond home) when I saw a bunch of blue lights, chasing a beat up grey Chevy. The driver of this Chevy apparently noticed stopped traffic ahead and made a u-turn on two wheels (well, practically). He was now fast approaching me, with quite a cohort of police in marked and unmarked vehicles on his trail.

The light in front of me was red – and I was going nowhere fast. I watched with trepidation in my rear view mirror as the high-speed chase closed in on me. Thankfully, at the last minute, the Chevy opted for the far right turn lane. Even better, the police who were pursuing him all managed to miss my car, too, as they careened into the same lane to make a quick turn. The whole incident got me thinking.

It was so sensational; like something out of a movie, really. When do you ever see an actual high-speed chase except in a James Bond flick, or on the news? Maybe it’s that this chase unfolded right under my nose. Maybe it was all the blue lights. Something about the intensity of it spoke to my soul.

I’ve always known that God is pursuing each of us. I mean, the kind of relentless pursuit that you can sense. The kind of pursuit that, if you stop to examine your life, you may even be able to see. We worship One who adores us. Isn’t that amazing?

This big police chase left me wondering if I pursue God with that same blue light intensity. Do I chase Him with the unyielding passion that I should? Honestly, I’m sure that I don’t. Do I take risks to close in on His presence in a new way? Probably not enough.

How about you? It’s January, and everyone is thinking about new beginnings and resolutions. I am thinking about how to give God the kind of chase I witnessed today. Isn’t that what worship is all about?

Living Nativity December 16, 2008

When I was a kid, we took a trip once through a living nativity a few doors down from where I lived. I have to admit, my brother and I were pretty immature about it. We giggled in the backseat as my dad drove the car through their gravel lot at 5 mph and the characters rigidly repeated each scene. Blue jeans and long johns peeked out from under the angel and shepherd outfits, and baby Jesus was…well…less than life-like. (Could have been because of the sub-zero temperature. Who wants a newborn in that?) Looking back, we were way too critical.

But here’s the thing. I’ve realized this week that most of us totally idealize the nativity characters when, infact, they were just people like you and me. The only perfect nativity character was Jesus. The rest of those guys brought real life drama to the set.

Call it post-partum bliss, but I’ve been thinking mostly about Mary. As I swaddle my own little guy, I notice the tension in my voice and the heightened emotion that I’m feeling. Granted, I had him less than 2 weeks ago. But, Mary was real just like me. If you think of her as perfect, you miss part of the story.

Tonite I read a story to my kids about Mary and Joseph from the view of the donkey who carried them, called Clopper. It’s a good read, but Clopper idealizes the whole thing a bit, too. Mary and Joseph handle the “no room in the inn” scenario beautifully. So, I have to ask, do you really think that a woman who was nine months pregnant was graceful about sleeping in a barn on some hay? I don’t care if she was carrying Jesus in her womb…she’s still pregnant, right? I mean, come on, people…Mary had to be a little out of sorts.

Imagine the shepherds. We see them arriving so peacefully to worship Jesus. Infact, don’t you think they were a little wigged out by the whole scene? Angels burst into the sky and start singing. These are real men, tending real sheep. One version of the Bible says they were “sorely afraid.” But we tend to forget that part, and think of them as “perfect” shepherds, if there is such a thing.

As I see it, there are two reasons to put the nativity characters up on a pedastal. 1.) They had great faith. 2.) They showed complete obedience. Really, it’s the combination of faith and obedience that makes them praiseworthy. One without the other would come up empty. But the combination – now that is admirable. That is what I want people to see in my life.

Let’s make no mistake about it, though. Each of these characters was, infact, a character in their own right – with their own story, idiosyncracies, and imperfections. When you read the Christmas story through this lens, I hope you see yourself all over it. 

• May you embrace a young woman who hears that she is pregnant and really breathes it in - enough to breathe out a gutsy Magnificat. 
• May you identify with shepherds who are stunned by a heavenly host and follow their hearts to a manger to worship.
• May you feel the wonder of a group of Magi who set aside their own pride to worship a King far greater.
• May you understand the unswerving love of a fiance who risks his reputation to be part of a bigger plan.
• And may you rejoice with the angels at the perfection of this Christchild, whose light and love we still can know today.

The little church whose parking lot we visited so many years ago wasn’t far off. Their portrayal may have been lacking a bit, but the first nativity really was a living nativity. Let’s not forget it this season.

Meeting Nate December 7, 2008

Note:  This entry is longer than usual, and contains semi-descriptive labor and delivery content.  However, the miraculous story is one I have wanted to share. So, if you’re into it, read on…

My first child, Ashton, was born at 2:32 pm, and my second, Lauren, was born at 2:33. No joke. That’s how it happened. I always did joke, though, that if I had another, he’d have to arrive at 2:34, just for good measure. Well…here’s how that third one came into the world.

I went into birth armed with scripture and a hearty dose of faith. God’s instruction to me? Just show up, and know that I am Powerful and Mighty. I had been meditating on it for weeks. I’d collected my own book of Psalms, along with other key verses, to claim during birth, and they were on the rolling table next to me as the nurses came in to start the induction.

Everything went smoothly for the first several hours. My bloodwork was great, showing that I had the platelets needed for an epidural. (This was a major concern going into delivery.) Turns out much of the early labor had been at home the night before. Nate was ready to come. The doctor easily broke my water, and my nurse, Stacy, started the pit. (That’s short for pitocin, for those of you who maybe have never had the induction experience.) Immediately, things began to progress. I kept flipping through the scriptures, and was really drawn to a scripture about Elijah – who was a man just like us, but prayed that it would not rain, and it didn’t for three years - and then He prayed that it would rain, and it did. I knew this big event was covered in much prayer, so I was not surprised to see it unfold so perfectly.

Then, around lunchtime, things got a little dicey. For the first time in any of my labor experiences, I met three new nurses at once. One grabbed my belly and began gyrating it in a circular fashion that made me laugh out loud for a moment. Another rushed to the other side of the bed to “help me change sides.”  A third tapped nervously into the computer beside me, highlighting contraction patterns and baby Nate’s heartrate. It took a moment for me to realize that something just wasn’t quite right.

The next thing I knew, I was being handed an oxygen mask as my sweet nurse explained that we were experiencing something called variables. They aren’t always problematic, she reassured, we’re just watching the patterns. But when my OB made an early appearance (they really only show up for the very end of this event, typically), I once again had the sense that something was not quite right. As she examined the patterns of my contractions, the doc told me how I was almost fully complete (that means ready to push!) except…for some reason, baby Nate was not dropping down. My body was responding to the induction, but something was keeping Nate from descending. So…yeah…that part is pretty key.

Even more scary, little Nate’s heart would drop off the charts during many of my contractions. His vitals were dropping too low; he wasn’t sustaining the contractions well. This explained the entourage of new nurses, the people ringing into the room offering to help my nurse, and the sometimes panicked look in their eyes. 

The doc and I discussed the options. She was candid about the possibility of  a C-section. I began to pray fervently. At one point, as she stood at the head of my bed, I remember her saying, “I just don’t know why this is happening, and we may not know until we deliver, or ever.” At the moment she was mouthing those words, I was praying over her my own, Lord, give her Your wisdom. A wisdom that exceeds her own. Show her exactly what to do next. Her decision was to allow me to continue for a bit longer, since my body had done this twice before, and carefully watch Nate. We would restart the pit (it was cut during one of the groupie nurse visits) and see what my body, and this baby, would do – one last time.

All of the medical team left the room. I didn’t realize until later that several of them were watching every contraction and variable on large screens just outside the door at the command station.

Adam and I prayed. Although I continued to flip through the scripture cards and read and reread the verses, I felt like the Centurion in the Bible as I told my husband, “I feel like God has made us promises about this delivery. I am trying so hard to still be full of faith.”

Trying so hard to still be full of faith. I prayed silently that God would help me to trust Him now, when the situation was so far beyond my control. I prayed that I could trust Him with whatever outcome He desired for us. I prayed for safety for Nate and for myself. I prayed to be full of faith. I prayed for my requests to be heard like Elijah was heard. I don’t think I ever stopped praying.

And then…it happened. The nurses had flipped my bed elevation so that my head was lower than my feet, which, by the way, is very uncomfortable when you are in labor! They call it the T-bird. It gives the baby every opportunity to reposition, if that is part of the problem.

I’d been T-bird twice; the first time for 25 minutes, and the second time I can’t recall how long I was in this position. All I know is I was horribly dizzy, and the oxygen was still strapped on. I was shaking like a leaf, and feeling pretty sick. My nurse asked if she could use the restroom for just a moment, and when she went to leave, she flipped my bed back up.

While she was out of the room, something changed. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to push…a desire I knew from two other deliveries. Nurses rushed into the room again and started all of the same motions – Nate’s vitals had dropped off the screen once more. Through the door my doctor came running. She’d just received a page in the basement of the building that Nate’s vitals had dropped again. She was moving fast, thinking I was in trouble.

But as another nurse checked my progress, she said, “She is fully complete, the baby has dropped, and she is ready to push!” I’ve never heard better words, really. God had answered our prayers! The doc looked at me and said, “If you want to hit 2:34 pm, you’d better get going!”

I’m a girl who loves a goal. And so, I welcomed Nate into the world at 2:31 pm. He beat the other two – but by just one minute. And so I can tell my children that I had them at 2:31, 2:32, and 2:33 pm. And that God showed up in a Powerful and Mighty way for each and every birth. So thank you, friends, for praying for me on Tuesday morning.

I can’t wait to tell Nate of his miraculous birth. God knit Him together, and then He produced His fine work in His timing, in His Power and Might. I am overwhelmed by God’s faithfulness, and learning myself to be faith full. That was the lesson for me in meeting Nate.

Waiting Room November 27, 2008

In the last two weeks, I’ve spent a collective nine hours in waiting rooms. (Five different appointments – but nine hours…seriously?!?! You do the math…) I’m burnt out on medical magazines and “no cell phone” policies. I let my kids have multiple lollipops at one appoinment, and allowed my daughter to lay on the nasty waiting room floor and color while people were forced to step over her. I know, I know…what has become of me?

Here’s the thing. I’ve also been in a waiting room with my physical health, as I teeter between the last weeks of pregnancy and a number of medical challenges that have cropped up. Doctors attempt to find a balance that may not even exist, fully, and I wait…and wait…and wait. What is God teaching me through this time?

Wait and hope are interchangeable in much of scripture. I’ve been meditating on that concept.

You see, my balancing act is getting so precarious that several weeks ago, I declared it far over the line into God’s territory. There is no sense in worrying about it. There is no sense in taking it all too seriously. It is what it is, and about this one thing I am serious: it’s entirely in God’s precinct. It is foolish to think that humans and medications can really balance or fix my situation right now – it must be God’s work in this body.

So, I wait, and I hope. The Bible says straight out, ”hope does not disappoint us.” (Romans 5:5) It is interesting to me that this observation in scripture follows a litany of what suffering produces. It goes like this – perseverance, character, hope.

Waiting through a miserable time produces hope. And waiting through a miserable time is hope. Really wrap your mind around that one today. It’s worth the time.

Sweet Belief November 20, 2008

Recently, we headed out to a baby dedication in a friend’s home. Along the way, Adam put jazz music into his earphones and hunkered down to study some behavioral communication (MBA stuff.) Little Lauren fell asleep. Ashton, my 4 1/2 year old boy, and I, were left to make the 30-minute drive together. We drove mostly in silence, but on occasion, he’d speak out from the back seat.

“Hey, mom – did you see that?”, he said, about two thirds of the way to our destination. I turned down the radio.

“What, honey?”

“That church! It was really cool looking.”

“Oh, nope – I didn’t see it, Ashton.”

“Well mom, it was really cool.” Pause. “I was thinking you’d probably speak there one day.”

Dramatic pause. Lump in my throat. “Yeah?”, I managed. Another pause as I turned this thought over and over in my mind for a few minutes.

“Hey, Ashton?”

“What is it mom?”

“Well – I just wanted to say thanks for believing in me, honey.”

“Sure mom. I’ll always believe in you.” And in his reply, there was no pause – no hesitation at all. Now that is what I call sweet belief.

I always expected to believe wholeheartedly in my kids and to cheer them from the sideline – every time – whether they were a starter or a bench-warmer, the soloist or the one turning their pages.

I did not expect, or even think about, what it would feel like when my kids would believe in me.

It makes me want to be the woman they believe I am; full of courage, pursuing relentlessly the call that God has on my life.

Marathon Musings November 16, 2008

There are two things in life that make me tear up every time, and I don’t know why. One is a good marching band, and the other is a good race.

I feel goofy when it happens. Why would anyone in their right mind cry when the marching band takes to the field with a forceful anthem, brass and woodwinds harmonizing? The drumbeat is infectious to me. I don’t really know why I feel so emotional, but there is something about the outcome when that many people march a certain way and play the right notes that moves my soul.

And today – the Richmond Marathon – well, it surprised me, too. We went down to the course for the half-marathon to cheer on a handful of friends and family whom we knew to be running. After we arrived, I leaned over to tell my son and daughter that when Aunt Janet (our fastest runner!) rounded the bend, they needed to let out a big cheer for her. When my son asked, “why?”, I could hear my voice getting that funny crackle that comes when you are about to have a good cry. I said, “Because she has worked so hard, and we are so proud of her, and she needs to hear us cheer because she’s almost through, and it will help her make it to the end.”

As I stood abruptly in an attempt to escape an avalanche of giant teardrops, I wondered why it always hits me like this when I come to a race to cheer someone on. (Mind you, I am never running. I have run a race three times in my life, but never longer than a 5K, and not in about 8 years. I am on the sidelines these days!)

So, I turned it over in my mind as we walked back to the car, and realized that I think my life is just like the race.

I’ve always thought of many people cheering us into heaven. You know, like the soul train line. All the saints who’ve gone before, jamming like nobody’s business on the sidelines of the pearly gates. But in this moment, I realized it is much more.

Hebrews 12 tells us “Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders us…and run the race marked out for us…” It doesn’t seem we’ll just be surrounded by all the saints when we make our big entrance into heave. It seems we are surrounded. The jam session has already begun, and the soul train line is happening right now, while we work out our faith in our every day lives.

That’s why the marathon is so moving to me. I can envision many who have gone before me, cheering me on right now, in this moment. Some days I feel I am at the last mile, and I will never see the finish. Other days I feel I am just beginning. Regardless of where I feel I am in the race, there are these great souls standing by to say, “You’re looking good! You’ve got this, girl! Stay strong!” It moves me at the core.

Now…if anyone can tell me why I cry for marching bands, I’d be oh so appreciative. And for my friends running the next race in town, if you could put some tissues in with your power gels and personal effects, I’d gladly take one when you pass by. I’m sure I’ll be needing it.

All In November 1, 2008

My dad used to say, “Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket.” Seriously, if I heard it once, I must’ve heard it 100 times growing up. I can remember one of my first post-collegiate jobs where I was miserable. I turned to my dad for advice. His wisdom was to “try like crazy to make this job work, and try like crazy to figure out what you’re going to do if it doesn’t.” That, by the way, is the grown-up version of “don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

It’s funny how those old messages keep rolling around in your head, even when you reach adulthood. I didn’t realize how much I was impacted by the reminders to have multiple baskets at all times until just recently.

I was at a Bible study, and there is worship time just before we break into groups. So, a song was playing about surrender. I was agreeing with the lyrics when I heard this simple phrase: “It’s ok, Christy, to put all of the eggs in My basket.” I was floored.

Have I been holding back? Have I not been “all in?” I couldn’t believe it. Was God showing me that my heart, in fact, has not been totally surrendered in an area? As I turned over this thought in my head, I started to think about ministry life. A year and a half ago I left a great gig as a behind-the-scenes ghost blogger of sorts for senior leaders of a financial organization. It paid well, and it was a pretty steady job. But I felt that God was putting words on my heart for others, and that I should take a big step of faith to start speaking. So, I left the ghost writing, and the regular paychecks, behind.

Now I’m out on a ledge, so to speak. I guess if I’m honest, I have been holding onto some eggs. Sometimes I’ll say, “If I can’t make ends meet with ministry, I could always get a part time job at Starbucks.” Or, at night, I’ll think about how I could network my way back into business…if this ministry stuff fizzles. Don’t get me wrong – I am all about relentlessly pursuing that to which God has called me. I guess sometimes I just go back to all those old messages in my head, and I draw up a “Plan B.”

I’m trying to mentally burn those secondary plans and leave behind the feeling that I must figure it all out. I’m trying, because God has assured me that with Him, I can be all in. It’s ok to just stack up all of the eggs in His basket. Dad and I never talked about it, but I bet he’d agree. So, I’m letting go of the last of my fears for today. I’m sure I’ll have to do it again tomorrow. Seems this “all in” thing – this real surrender – requires a daily dose of courage. I’ll keep you posted…