Dependence: Dementia and a Daughter

This is one of my most treasured pictures of my Mom and I.  It was taken in Hawaii.  Hawaii is by far one of the most beautiful places I have ever been.  It possesses the kind of beauty that makes you think how on earth could this place be created only by chance.  Its scenery makes you slow down; it makes you want to breath in the beauty; it makes you want to press pause if only for a moment and say to the Creator of that place, “There is no such thing as chance.  No, there is no such thing as random occurrence.  You, Lord, you created this place, you created this moment.”

I wish I could go back in time and ask my Mom what she was thinking in this picture as she too paused at the beauty around her.  Knowing my Mom’s heart, knowing her incredible kind and selfless nature, knowing her love for her Creator, something deep within me believes this moment signified her declaration to live, to parent, and to love in a way that was saturated in surrender.  It was a moment perhaps where her heart whispered, “Father, I want my life to draw people to you.  I want to be used to increase other’s dependence on you.  I want my life to count for your glory and your honor in the way I live, love, and parent…whatever it takes, Lord.  That is what my heart desires.”

2017 has been a hard year.  It has brought tragedy and chaos and lots of questioning.  Because if God is good and everything that happens in this life is for His glory, how do you reconcile this truth with the reality of sudden loss and the slow burn of tragedy? 

If you were sitting across from me, you would hear the anger I am trying hard to fight against.  You would hear my frustration with God, and you would see eyes trying to hope and see good when all they want to do is look the other way.  You would see the regret of a daughter who for over a decade has loved at an arm’s length. You would see the remorse from not loving a parent well.  You would see the heartbreak that has occurred slowly and steadily as I tried to live my own life free from the mess which I blamed so much of on my Mom.

I had grown lukewarm: the bad news, the sicknesses, the relapses, the hospital stays, they no longer affected me.  They were just unfortunate facts that kept occurring to someone who, I thought, had brought it upon themselves. 

Conviction can be brutal.  But repentance is truly a beautiful thing.  It is hard and messy and usually requires living in a way that is overwhelmingly foreign yet at the same time feels right at home.  Every day is different-lots of mistakes, lots of anger, but most importantly lots of grace.

Over the past couple of weeks, the Lord has reminded me that this life we live is truly all about dependence.  And as I struggle to make sense of the sadness, I am reminded again and again that the purpose of our lives, as believers, is to point others to Him…to draw people towards a dependence on a heavenly Father.

Hebrews chapter 11 is often referred to as the “Hall of Fame” for great men and women throughout the bible who lived a life of faith. Abraham, Isaac, Noah, Moses, Rahab (only to name a few), are all commended for living a life defined by their faith and the Lord blessed them because of it.  He provided favor and provision in unspeakable ways.  But then the author goes on to remind us of the following (Hebrews 11:35-38 paraphrased):

But others were tortured…some faced jeers and flogging.  Some were chained and put in prison.  Some were stoned and sawed in two and put to death by the sword.  Some people lived lives destitute, persecuted, and mistreated.

For me personally, I am so quick to pray for the same favor of Abraham, Isaac, Moses, etc.  Give me that, Lord.  Give me the successes of these people. 

But what God is saying in this text is a favored life is not marked by our world’s definition of success.  Failure, poverty, persecution, suffering…these are also marks of God’s favor.  Because in the end, it is all for His glory.  And it is all about keeping the faith no matter what side you may find yourself on in this spectrum.

On Friday we hope to find out a little bit more about what is going on with my Mom’s mind.  Is the dementia reversible or will it only grow worst?  Will her life continue to have to be lived in a dementia center or will independence one day enter the picture again.  At age 55 what will the coming years look like for her mind and her health?

To be honest, I am tired of praying for restoration.  Do I believe God has the power to restore her mind, absolutely.  But for almost 15 years now I have been praying to God to change her, to make her someone she is not, to heal her.  I wanted Him to make her into the mother I wanted her to be. 

Never once did I pray for compassion to love her well exactly how she is.  Never once did I think she is/was perfect exactly as she was/is.  Never once did I thank God for her suffering.  Never once did I pause to think maybe all that has happened truly is for God’s glory and actually an answered prayer to my mom’s declaration to live a life of surrender: “Father, I want my life to draw people to you…I want to be used to increase other’s dependence on you… I want my life to count for your glory and your honor...whatever it takes, Lord.  That is what my heart desires.”

There is an absolutely breathtaking statement at the closing of Hebrews chapter 11 as the author finishes out describing the suffering some of those faithful servants endured.  He wraps up the section with these words (Hebrews 11:38):

…The world was not worthy of them...

I have no doubt when my mom takes her last breath and stands before her Creator, that these words will be spoken of her life.  “The world was not worthy of you, Dianne, my love.  Your life drew people to me.  Your suffering, pointed others to me.  You let me use you to create dependence.  Well done, my good and faithful servant.  You have done so well and with you I am well pleased.”

To those of you who are haunted by the pain of a tragedy; for those of you who question the goodness of God because of the pain of an unspeakable event, my prayer for you is that you would see and know your heavenly Father wants your dependence.  And in a beautiful yet tragic way, He will pursue you and He will use you until it is on He that you depend.

To Fight or Feed?

Did you march or protest?

These have been popular questions over the past two weeks.

"Where do you stand?"

"Which side are you on?"

In full honesty, I have been afraid to answer.

As a Christ follower and a conservative leaning constituent, my lack of knowledge and zeal are disheartening and disappointing to myself and others.

I am afraid to speak because I want to say the right and perfect answer.  I want a formulaic response.

But what comes instead is a line from Martin Luther King's life: 

"The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict."

So, no, an apathetic stance is not what I want to live out nor is it what I want to be remembered for.

The problem for me, is both sides are so loud.  So dichotomous.  But both sides also hold certain truths that I absolutely hold dear.  Both sides support issues that make me want to fight, to march, to protest.

Over the past couple of weeks I have kept wondering, as we likely all have:  What would Jesus do?  Where would He be in all of this?  Where would He land on these issues?  What stance would He take?  Would He be marching, posting, and protesting?

Because wherever that place is or that stance is, that's where I want to be.

Jesus was no stranger to political and religious frustrations. Religion and politics were beyond corrupt at the time of his birth.  Upon His arrival to this earth, the king at the time, Herod, had mandated an order for all baby boys, under the age of two, to be killed in the region near Bethlehem for fear that one greater than he may one day overpower him.

And in this moment, when thousands of precious lives were being murdered, Jesus' parents did not show up at Herod's courts protesting his decision.  Instead they fled.  They hid.  And neither did God's wrath step in and overrule Herod's horrid order.

Over and over again Jesus' life would brush up against the corruptness of the ruling political and religious systems.

One of Jesus' dearest followers, John the Baptist, had his own experience with King Herod as he was arrested for calling out King Herod's wickedness.  Not knowing what to do, John's friends with him at the time of his arrest, went running to Jesus to tell him of the news.  But when they came, Jesus did not come to John's rescue.  He did not pray for Herod's death nor for the jail walls to collapse so John's freedom could be restored.  Instead, he kept healing.  He kept saving.  He kept raising to life those who were dead.  And then he told John's friends to send him this message:

Go back and tell John what's going on:

The blind see,

The lame walk,

Lepers are cleansed,

The deaf hear,

The dead are raised,

The wretched of the earth learn that God is on their side.

But Jesus mentioned nothing about help coming John's way.

As John's followers left to return back to John with Jesus' message, Jesus began speaking to the crowds about the greatness of John.  He praised him.  He commended him.  He called him one of the best prophets that had walked the earth...but he did not save him.

Can you imagine John's response as his friends returned with Jesus' message:

You mean he's not coming?

He is not going to use His power to overrule the political corruptness that is the cause of me being locked in this jail cell?

But I did everything right.  The only reason I am locked in here is because of Him.  Because of my obedience to God.  But nothing. 

He's going to do absolutely nothing to fight for my life and my freedom?

Unfortunately, these were some of the last days of John the Baptist's life as he was shortly thereafter beheaded by Herod.

Upon learning of this news, John's friends were at a loss.  They buried him and then quickly went to the one they knew had the power to bring him back from the grave.

"Jesus! Herod had John beheaded.  He's gone.  We came as soon as we could.  Because we know it isn't too late.  You can bring him back.  You can raise him back to life.  You can make this right again.  We believe.  We have seen your power and your miracles and we know you can do this."

But Jesus performed no resurrection that day.

Although part of me believes he wanted to.

The text says after he received the news, he slipped away by boat, to a lonely place by himself.  

When Jesus got the news about John, we know He was surrounded by a very large crowd (John 14:12-21).  He was performing miracles and teaching.  This was His routine.  So if I am reading between the lines of what transpired in those moments, it is very likely the crowd heard and saw Jesus receive the news of John's death.  And while the text does not go into depth about their response, part of me believes they were angry and furious over what Herod had done to John.  They had plenty of reasons to hate Herod already and John's death served as the last straw.  They had to of thought:

"Jesus, let's take Herod down.  You have healed us, you have unlimited power, now is the time to act.  Now is the time to fight.  Lets march, lets protest.  Lets go to Herod's courts and condemn his wickedness.  We will get behind you if you lead the way."

And at this, Jesus slipped away.

He went to the water to be by himself.  Away from the noise.  Away from the demands.  Away from the desire to bring His friend back.  Because now, more than ever, He wanted to fight.  And John's death seemed like the perfect opportunity to invite wrath and justice into a very broken world.  His heart broke for the loss of His dear friend and His anger raged.  So He got away.  He sought the voice of His father.

"How could you let this happen, Father?"

"John was one of the best, he did everything right...Let me fix this.  Let me bring him back.  Let me give Herod what is coming for him.  Let me cast your judgement on this corruption.  Let's fight.  Let's act."

But all Jesus heard from His Father that day was: "Feed them."

"What?  Feed them?  What are you talking about?  That has nothing to do with the tension of the moment.  Now is the time to fight...and all you are telling me to do is to 'Feed them'.

At about this time, Jesus' location was discovered out on the lake and the crowds gathered at the shoreline to find out what the next move was.  There were enough people present that day to make an army.  They could take the city.  They were ready to march.  They wanted answers and were looking to Jesus to give the orders. 

But as Jesus reached the shoreline, He gave into His Father's command, "Feed them...."  He knew what He had heard and leading these people towards a fight was not part of the agenda.  "I surrender, I am embracing your command...even though I have no idea what it means... I promise to feed and not fight.  I will hold on to your command and will wait for your opportunity to speak this truth." 

Later that evening, the people were still there, gathered around Him.  Waiting, hoping, praying that now would be the time to act.  But still nothing.  Jesus gave no commands.  It had been a long day.  They were restless and growing tired.  They were frustrated.  It was a day of realizing the proclaimed Savior of this world sometimes actually chooses not to save and not to rescue.  They were growing weary as they sought to reconcile the day's events.  Their minds and their stomachs grumbled with exhaustion and emptiness. 

The night grew darker and the disciples were ready to send the people away.  "They are hungry, Jesus.  Tell them to go away.  We can't feed them.  We have nothing for them, we are done here.  If you are not going to do anything, if we are not going to act, send them away."

And at this, Jesus lifted His head, His heart growing full as He recalled His Father's command from earlier that day:  "Feed them." 

And at this He responded: "Don't you dare turn these people away.  They are starving.  Feed them."

"But all we have are these five loaves of bread and two fish," they said.  

"Bring them here."

And then he commanded the people, this army, these ready-to-fight hearts, to sit down and receive.

Matthew 14:19-21 MSG

He took the five loaves and the two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread to the disciples. The disciples then gave the food to the congregation.  They all ate their fill.  They gathered twelve baskets of leftovers.  About five thousand were fed.

It was a moment of saying to the world...there's another way: Feed the people.  Don't fight in the way the world says to fight.  Fight with nourishment.  Fight with hope.  Fight with selflessness and sacrifice.  Go home and tell your family, your friends, your people, that life is not about the fight.  The only way love wins this war is through feeding God's people.  All people, every single one of them. Forget about politics, forget about geography and foreign policy, forget about race, forget about sex, forget about demographics.  Forget about all those things that potentially make you want to avoid a person.

I want you to go home and feed those people...my people.

Because God is after both the fighter and the one who needs to be fed.  God could have leveraged the anger and frustration of those people that day to go and march and bring justice.  But He didn't.  Instead, He said, "No": the need you think you want to fight against is not your true need.  I know your true need.  You are hungry.  You are starving from the fighting.  It has landed you here, now, exhausted and depleted.  And I am telling you there is another way.  There is another way to march.  Receive from me the only nourishment that is ever going to fill your emptiness.

So may we do as those who were present that day:  May we sit.  May we receive.  And then, may we go and leverage all that we have for His kingdom.  May our hearts be directed by the command to feed and not fight.  May we refuse to marginalize people by leveraging our wallets, our talents, our kindness, and our time by showing them it is all being done in the name of love.  Not because of politics.  Forget the politics.  Let His love lead.  Let getting lost in serving those around you drown out the temptation to get lost in the shouts of those who are screaming at you to fight; to take a side.

In closing, my prayer is that we may we feed those around us rather than fighting.  May God strengthen our hands, our feet, and our hearts, to be the people He is calling us to be.  May He silence our desire to seek revenge and to be angry.  May our voices grow softer and may our actions speak louder.  May we step up.  As a person, as a people, as a country who won't lose sight of His command: "Feed my people."

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I am working to figure out exactly what this looks like in my own, every-day life.  My stomach still sinks when someone asks my thoughts on all that is going on in our world.  Because the truth is, I am a very imperfect person just trying to figure out what living in alignment with the one I owe my life to looks like.  I am not claiming to know the perfect answer, but for now, this is the answer I believe the Lord has placed on my heart.  These are the convictions He has placed on my own life.   If you are reading this, thank you.  Thank you for listening.  Thank you for taking the time out of your day to hear these thoughts.  May the Lord speak to you in His own way about the world and the events that are unfolding before us.

Anxiety's Ugly Sister

She's got one.

Maybe you have met her.

The hum, the chatter, the tension-her signature features are so similar even at times they seem identical.

But this sister is different, too.  More discreet, yet equally, if not louder, than anxiety.  She showed up in my life slowly but steadily until at one point her voice blended in with every thought, slowly creeping her way into my actions and words.

Instead of perpetual doubt and a lack of confidence, this sister presented herself as glorified confidence with an edge.  At first it felt good.  She seemed stronger, braver, and a fighter of sorts.  But the physical tension that came with her just did not seem right.

Every conversation and situation became parameters for measurement.  And for judgment.  And for constant comparison.

She whispered soft but hideously potent thoughts that sounded like: 

"You are better..."

"You would do that better..."  

Her presence changed my perspective.  She shifted my gaze by just a few degrees and the results were darkening. 

When my eyes looked up, they judged.  They tracked.  They would not only look around at others but down at others.

Caffeine and adrenaline only fueled the volume of her presence.

And what is so bad is that I liked her a lot... at first.  Such a change of pace from anxiety. 

But after too much time together, I found her completely draining and  I wanted a break.

But how do you separate yourself from such a force?

I sought quiet, stillness, and a slow and steady breath that can be so gosh darn hard to find at times.

And it was in this place that truth showed itself.

Pride.

That's who she was.  

That's what this was.

It took forever for me to figure out what her name was, but when I did, I realized too much of my life was being controlled by her ways.

My thought patterns, my faith, my relationships, my work, they were all being wrecked by what this voice had done to my mind.

Knowing things needed to change, I prayed, in the quiet, in the stillness, for help to repave the pathways my pride had savaged.

The solution to get this voice to be silent was not switching back to anxiety.  

It was and is dependence.  Complete and utter dependence on one far greater than I.

It is accepting the truth that any good thing that is brought to fruition has NOTHING to do with my own self-effort but rather complete reliance on a good and perfect God who provides these things in spite of me. 

In spite of all of my prideful ways.  In spite of my judgmental heart.

The solution has been learned in practicing active humility and asking to be humbled.  Because I need to be reminded more often than I would like to admit, that I am neither absolutely perfect nor hopelessly imperfect.

But instead, I am His.  And that...that is enough.

To my constant copilots: anxiety and pride, you will likely walk along side me for quite some time.  BUT neither of you are the drivers of this ship.  Feel free to continue you're chatter; my ears are locked on listening to the whispers of my Father.

May the Lord provide the wisdom and the quiet to detect the undetectable matters of our hearts.  

A Promise

Recently, God has been teaching me about the power of His promises.

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses. These are only a few great names from the Bible that had promises written all over their lives.

In Romans, Paul gets a little obsessed about the power of God’s promises. He argues emphatically that when God speaks a promise over your life, all bets are off. Human effort goes out the window. No matter what that promise is, God will see it through to completion. And as Paul so eloquently argues, the completion of the promise is not at all dependent upon anything you or I will do or can do.

Simply put, if God said it, that’s it. End of story. Thus our role as recipients of the promise is to simply enter into what God is doing. Acknowledge that for some unknown reason, God saw us, He saw the potential, and the individual wiring, and He spoke a unique promise over each of our lives.

It is reassuring, because it takes all the weight off of us and our performance.  All God asks is for us to open our hands and receive, and then watch with a heart full of faith and trust for what He will do next.

I love the story of Moses. There are so many amazing truths about God planted throughout this historical segment of ancient history. But the lesson that keeps coming up over and over again is the power of God’s promise over our lives.

Do you know what Moses’ name means? It means to be “pulled out of the water.”

He was given this name by Pharaoh’s daughter at the time, you guessed it, when she pulled him up out of the water.

Moses was born during a rough period, as a means to control the Israelite population, a decree had been given by Pharaoh to kill every Israelite male child that was born.  However, Moses’ mother could not bare the thought of killing her son, so in a last stitch effort, she put him in a basket, placed him in the Nile, and prayed God would do what only He could do.

While I will never know what Moses’ life looked like outside of what is recorded in history, something within me believes he was likely always referred to as the kid who got pulled out of the Nile.

I would suspect the story about his rescue was told time and time again. Over and over amongst both the Egyptians and the Israelites. Word around town probably quickly spread: “Have you heard about the Israelite baby boy who was pulled out of the water by Pharaoh’s daughter? We can hardly believe it, she named him Moses.  Pharaoh’s daughter has taken him as her own.”

As Moses grew older, perhaps he would get sick of telling the story about his rescue or perhaps he never shared it at all.  Perhaps he hated his name, because with it, his story of rescue was automatically told.

Regardless of how he handled his history, there is something so profound about his name.

Fast forward to Moses’ adult life- most of us are familiar with the story of Moses, the Israelites, the Egyptians, and the parting of the Red Sea.

The Israelites were terrified and were in desperate need of a miracle. They had reached a dead end. There was nowhere else to go to run from Pharaoh’s army. The Red Sea was in front of them and the army was behind them.  Death was imminent.

At this, Moses spoke to his people:

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. 14 The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” -Exodus 14:13-16

I cannot help but wonder what was going on in Moses’ mind in that moment. God had brought them so far, after all of this, Moses knew now was not the time for God to let the Israelites down. So what did Moses do?

He remembered his name…Moses: To be pulled out of the water.  He remembered this promise spoken over his life from the time he was just a boy.  He remembered he had been rescued once before.

So Moses knew, he knew, they need only to be still and then watch the Lord come to their rescue.  Because if God had orchestrated his removal out of water in the past, then He could do it again.  All he had to do was remember and believe.

The Lord had to have been pleased in that moment as he watched Moses finally embrace the promise over his life. In the below exchange it is as if God says, “You get it. Now, in this moment, you are entering into what I have been trying to show you after all this time. When you believe in who I am and who I have called you to be, there is no limit in what I can do through you.   All you have to do is open your hands and then watch what I will do.”

Exodus 14:15-16:  Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. 16 Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go through the sea on dry ground.

Exodus 14:21-22:  Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, 22 and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left.

You may be doubting what God’s promise is for your life, but rest assured He has one. You may land on it tomorrow, or you may not realize it until years from now. But in the meantime, don’t forget there is a promise. Don’t stop believing God for the impossible. He has chosen you, He has called you by name, do not grow weary in keeping your faith.

To The Man Who Fills My Gaps: A Birthday Tribute

My husband is one of the most reliable people I know.  He is systematic, logical, and extremely organized.  He loves finishing tasks and making lists.  He is a homebody and loves consistency.  He has the biggest heart for service + people + pets.  He likes to tackle things one issue at a time and is patient with processing information.  John excels at making complex, technical plans.

I on the other hand, am basically a loose cannon when it comes to all of his strengths.  I like for things to appear organized and clean but rest assured when you open my closet it will look like a bomb went off.  I multi task to a fault.  The more information I can process, connect, and apply, the better.  I love verbally processing things out loud, instantly.  I have a knack for losing my phone, and making lists somewhat stresses me out.  And the only thing I love to plan is a trip.

Today marks ten years of celebrating birthdays together.  Over the past decade we have had many run ins with the different ways we do life and manage things.  You would think by now we would have this down to a science, but it has really only been in the last year that we found our “groove” so to speak.

The trick has been to not focus on each other’s deficits but instead take a Strength Finder’s approach to marriage: i.e. to take ownership of our own respective strengths and stop projecting them on to one another.  In short, do your thing, stay in your lane, and let your partner do the same.

It has been a game changer.

So, to John, the man who holds my disorganized, hot-mess of a heart:

I am so glad it is you.

I am so glad the oppositeness and the dichotomies are there, because I need your strengths.  And I need your weaknesses.

My deficits are too great to do life without you.

Your stability over the years has been the most beautiful melody; a melody with a steady beat that has created a platform for incredible growth.

You fill my gaps.

Those places of “lack” are where  your strengths overflow. 

I am forever grateful for who you are and I am eternally thankful God created you just as he did.

Thank you for loving me in the mess.  Thank you for not walking away when you had every right to.

You are the one my heart longs for.

Here’s to another year of growing old together and continuing to compare our gray hair count.

A Confession About Success

No one ever told me to watch out for "success."

For me, success meant money, material, and recognition.  

In 2015, work had what felt like exploded at the time, everything was going well, and my definition of achieving "success" seemed like it was within reach.

Money, material, and recognition are not bad things at all.  But if they are things you are chasing that simply do not align with your core values of what you truly treasure in life, you will burn out.

I was running what I thought was my race and I was going after all that I thought success was.  But the crazy thing was, the closer I got to these things, the more drained I became.

So I went to the doctor.  I contributed the burn out to some "low" measure of something in my body.  Medicine was prescribed and I was ensured I would be back to my old self in no time.  But the days continued.  Sluggish, no drive, no ambition.  I would try to get back to the grind, but the chasing of a pay check just continued to wreak havoc on my already worn out mind and heart.  

This went on for about six months.  Dead end after dead in.  I prayed, I journaled, I complained, but nothing helped.  Sensing this was becoming more of an internal struggle rather than a medical issue, a friend directed me to some wise counsel.  I explained to him what was going on: the constant unrest, the overwhelming feeling of heaviness, the emptiness of achievement. 

After patiently listening to what I had to say, in short, this was his response to me:  You have a conflict within your core.  You say you want certain things...you say you have a definition of success, but everything within you is telling you this is the wrong definition.  You are chasing after the wrong things.  There is a major misalignment going on between your heart's values and the way you are living your life.

But the problem was, I didn't want to hear what he had to say.  The world had told me these were the things you were suppose to go after.  They were in effect, "sure things."  I had approached them as guarantees.  But for me, they had become a trap.  A mirage consisting of a list of achievements that promised a good life yet only led to perpetual emptiness.

Given I had tried just about every other option, I knew it was time for some professional help.  So I started seeing a counselor.  He was someone who specialized in helping people work through spiritual strongholds.  The old me would have been completely skeptical of this approach, but I was tired and willing to try something different.

And then that dear man who told me my core was out of alignment became my business coach.

And this is when things started to change.  Slowly but surely and with the help of these two individuals and many others, I started to ask the questions:  If success is not money, material, and recognition, then what is it?  And why I am I running so hard after something that does not fill me up?

It took some hard processing and what felt like a mini life breakdown.  But as the days rolled on, I could feel a sense of hope that had not been present before.  In a sense, these individuals were safe spaces where I could process life's darkest "basement" moments and thought patterns.  The ones that had been suppressed and internalized and were ultimately the driving force for this chasing lifestyle I had developed.

And so I laid the armor I had worn for so long down.  I simply could not carry its weight any longer.  And I couldn't keep continuing to run.  I came out from behind the walls I had constructed and knew that whatever exposure I may risk, the Lord would be guiding me on this off roading adventure.

It has been almost 7 months since this new way of life started.  To be honest, it has been excruciatingly painful at times.  Because the truth is when you take off that armor you have been wearing, the pain of a blow can knock the life right out of you.

But it was and is so worth the exposure.

I have been calling 2016 the year of recalibration.  It has been one of immense pruning and rewiring.

While I have miles to go on this journey, in summary, these are the biggest take aways for those of you who may relate to this post:

1.  Know your framework.  Practically speaking, know how you are wired.  Take behavioral assessments.  For me, the Myers Briggs test has been a critical tool for growth and understanding.  It has been a benefit in more ways than I can count and is great for understanding both who you are and who the people around you are.

2. Get around people who embrace your framework.  There are a million ways to make a buck.  Go after something that is true to who you are.  Don't be afraid if this path looks drastically different from those around you.

3. Own and embrace your framework.  Don't be ashamed.  Don't try to be someone you quite frankly were never meant to be.

4. Know what success looks like for you in this season.  It will change and is likely to be an evolving definition.  But make sure it is clear in your mind.  The noise of the world is so loud on this topic...it is far too easy to get distracted with things that simply are not for you.

5. Work on your best "yes."  Lysa Terkeurst wrote a great book (The Best Yes) on how to make choices that are "best" and not "good" in the midst of life's endless demands. There is no end to the amount of "good" things out there.  Seek the best and have the confidence to say a bold "no" to even the good things.

A Story of Grace

I see this image of me as a little girl in my childhood home.  I am alone.  No one else is there.  And for whatever reason, I somehow have gotten ahold of matches.  Curious and intrigued I thought by lighting "just one" things would be okay.  I could manage.  I had seen my parents manage these flames time and time again.  But when I went to strike the match and I saw the fire in my hands, my fear got the best of me and I dropped the small burning flame on the floor.  

"It will be okay," I thought.  It is just one.  Just one small flame that will go out.  At that point my young, naive mind thinks it is best to leave the situation and go to another room.  To run to another place where the fear and regret about ever getting close to those matches is not there.  My house was safe.  It could take whatever consequences would come.  These walls were built to last; built to stand whatever forces may come against them.  They were, in my small mind, fire proof.

As I ran from room to room, the smoke and the flames only seemed to follow, growing ever greater with fury and intensity.  I looked out the window from my bedroom and all I could see was the entire house consumed with flames.  This was it.  How could I ever be forgiven?  No one was going to come to my rescue.  I had created this mess and I deserved to suffer whatever consequences were to come.  Convinced my bedroom was the safest place, I ran there.  I slammed the door and locked it behind me.  "The flames have to stop," I thought.  They will stop.  But the smoke just kept coming...and before long the door frame, and the entire front portion of my room was ablaze.  I could feel my body shutting down.  Each breath became heavier than the last.  My lungs were losing control.  My body was being wrecked by the heat.  As a final last attempt, I peered out my window from the corner I was hiding in.  Alas, I saw firefighters,  I saw a crowd of people but they weren't doing anything.  They were just watching.  Just standing by with their heads held low as they faced the defeat of the flames.  The firefighters had determined the flames were too much.  Too strong for any human to survive let alone carry another person out alive.

This was it.  I was done.  My eyes filled with tears and I began to pray with what small bit of consciousness I had left.  And then it went dark.

When I opened my eyes, I couldn't make sense of what was happening.  Someone was carrying me.  Someone was holding me.  The heat was becoming less and less.  And then it went dark.

My eyes opened again, I heard noises, sirens, and screaming.  I felt my body being laid upon the stretcher.  Everything hurt.  The pain was excruciating.  My body had been consumed by the burns.  But I was here.  I was somehow breathing.  Who had come to my rescue?  Everyone said it was a lost cause.  "Too risky," they said.  "There's no way she will make it." 

But someone came.  Who was it?  My mind was exhausted and I passed into another state of unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I was in the hospital.  Covered with pain so immense I could barely breath.  "Third and fourth degree burns"...those were the phrases I heard over and over.  "You're lucky to be alive...  We have no idea how you made it.  Recovery is going to be brutal.  Some parts of your body may not survive.  You will never look the same.  You will never walk the same.  From here on out, life is going to look drastically different."

Their words were hollow.  Empty and meaningless.  All I wanted to know was who carried me out?  Who was my rescuer?

I begged the doctors to let me speak to firefighters in charge that day.  Perhaps they would be able to point me to the one I owed my life to.  After much pleading, they allowed one visit.  My heart was so full and eager to hear what they would say, I found the pain lessened as my mind was distracted by what was to come.

And this was their response:

"We don't know his name...or who he was."  

"He came out of no where and disappeared as soon as he brought you to the medics."  

"Was he burned?"  I asked, my eyes filling with tears.  "Was he okay?"  "How did he ever survive coming to my rescue?"

"We don't know, he had to of been hurt...but no one has seen him since-we have checked with the medics, the hospital, the neighbors and community, and no one knows who or where he is...all we know is he never stopped.  Despite our screaming and yelling, when he saw the flames, he wouldn't stop running.  We knew he was a goner.  We knew there would be no way he could make it-yet alone bring you out alive.  But he would not listen..."

"And then we saw him walk out of those flames, carrying you...we could not believe what we were seeing.  He was barely standing, his skin was scorched, and he was struggling to breath.  But he never dropped you.  He never let go until he laid you on that stretcher...until he had made sure you were okay.  Until he made sure you had all the right people and all the right care to keep you breathing.  And then just like that he was gone."

When I think about grace...this is what I think of.  When I think about rescue, this is what I recall.

My life was ablaze.  No one should have come near me.  And yet...He came.  He came when everyone else said-she's done for.  She's nothing.  Just sit back and watch the burn.

But He said, "No.  She is my daughter.  The flames do not scare me.  The sin does not frighten me.  The odds mean nothing to me.  Whatever the cost, I must go to her.  I must rescue her.  She can't stand the heat any longer.  I will give her a new name.  I will give her a new life.  She will make it.  She is worth whatever flame, whatever injury, I may incur.  She is mine.  And I want her back."

This is radical grace.

God wants you back.  It isn't too late.  Let Him rescue you.  

Picture taken from: http://7-themes.com/7036664-flames.html

Failing to Fix

picture taken from: http://www.alcoholanddrugabuse.com/blog/understanding-social-use-from-substance-abuse-alcoholism-and-addiction/

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I will never forget the first Nar-Anon meeting I went to. I was a senior in college, about to graduate. I honestly do not even know how I ended up there that day. But regardless, I went.

In my mind, I thought it would be a place where I could get my 10,000 specific questions answered. Questions like: What do I do in this scenario? How do I fix this situation? How do I control for this element? How do I ensure they are safe? How do I keep them from abusing?

I figured, if I was in a room filled with people fighting the same problems, this would be one hell of a think tank on fighting addiction.

Unsure of the formatting and what exactly the meetings would look like, I entered the room hesitantly, picked up the pamphlet laying on the table at the entry way, and started making mental notes of all the different points I wanted to discuss.

The place was packed. Husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, parents, grand parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, daughters, and sons…

The group organizer that day told us to open up our pamphlets and read out loud and in unison the Twelve Steps. I begrudgingly rolled my eyes and locked in on what we were to read, believing the Q&A would come shortly thereafter and I could finally get what I had come for.

“Step One…”

“We admitted we are powerless over the addict-and that our lives have become unmanageable.”

This is bull ****, I screamed it over and over in my head. I was not here to talk about my life. I was not here to think about my issues. I was here to discuss a problem- solving agenda. And that’s it.

“Step Two…”

“Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

No. No one other than myself can be in charge of my sanity. I call the shots.

“Step Three…”

“Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

Okay, I thought, I can go halfsies on this one. I believe in God and I know He created me, but I will be taking care of my life and my will.

“Step Four…”

“Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

And at this one I was ready to throw up.

I continued reading through the entirety of the 12 steps which felt like it took a life time and a half.   In my mind, we were wasting so much time with this. When were we ever going to get to the part I actually came for?

After the group finished going over each step, the organizer made a few statements and announcements and then opened the floor for “sharing.”

Oh good, here it comes, here is my chance.

I honestly cannot remember who or what the first individual shared…but by the third or fourth person, I quickly realized I was in a room of incredibly broken people; people who had come not seeking solutions but rather looking to share their darkness. Looking to face it, hand in hand with this body of people. They were admitting they were powerless, that they had no control.

Quite frankly, they were not my kind of people.

If there’s a problem, you fix it. Plain and simple. The faster you can fix it, the more options you can bring into play and the more creative solutions you can offer…the more valuable you become.  In today’s world, this kind of action  and thinking is viewed as an asset. In the working world, people look to you, they seek your wisdom, they want to know your contingency plans (because rest assured you probably have 20+ different options for each scenario).

But the problem with all this is one day it will break. One day the root to your creativity will be so harshly broken, you will realize these skill sets are just armor. Armor to protect you from the fall. Armor to mask the painful truth that you are in fact, “powerless.”

It was easy for me to walk into that meeting thinking my story was different, perhaps one of the worst. But then I heard story after story and heart break after heart break and I realized I was not alone at all. People all around me were fighting this battle.

I remember getting in my car afterwards and completely breaking down. I remember spending the rest of the day sobbing, heart broken at the final reality that there was not a “fix this now” button. It just was what it was. I hated every moment of it. I hated the pace and the cadence of the group. I hated what felt like defeat; and giving up. I hated that there were no solutions. No fixes.

It has been almost 6 years since I first attended that meeting. I would like to tell you that I came to my senses and now regularly attend the weekly gatherings…but that wouldn’t be the truth.

The truth is it took about 5 years for me to go to another meeting. And every time since then, I walk away feeling those same emotions I initially did. They have by God’s grace toned down a bit, but the immense frustration that follows is still there.

One of the pains of addiction is it isolates. You think you are the only one fighting it and then you hear someone else going through the same struggle. The “me toos” begin to exponentially increase and before you know it, you start trying to count the families who actually aren’t impacted by this destructive illness.

And the stats don’t lie. Study after study confirms that addiction is one of the most under treated diseases our world currently faces.

I wish I could close with “…and this is how you fix it…”

But I do not have that solution. And neither do you.

So for now, I will close with the Twelve Steps. Regardless of whether or not you have been impacted by addiction, these truths hold so much power.  If you are facing this fight, please know you are not alone.  Speak up.  Reach out.

1. We admitted we were powerless over the addict — that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Moral Authority

Moral Authority.

It is a term I keep coming back to as of late.

There are many different definitions out there but the one that seems to capture the meaning of this term best is someone who walks the walk and talks the talk.

I would say it is probably a fair statement that we are all desperately craving moral authority these days. Our hearts long to be led by someone whose spoken values and actions are in alignment for a collective good. We want someone who is for us-for our hopes, for our dreams, for the person we hope to one day become. We want someone who not only speaks for us but also acts for us. We want someone who knows our deepest fears and strongest hopes and yet leads in a way that aims to protect, guide, and nourish these precious interests.

As I have wrestled to implement moral authority as a value in both my personal life and professional life, I find I fail over and over again. I have my own agenda rooted in selfishness. I gossip. I stretch the truth. I avoid the truth. I ignore. I get distracted. I forget. I gloat. I disrespect. I judge. I covet.  I could go on and on.

I do not intentionally want to do these things and yet on a moment-by-moment basis, I am broken by the struggle and my eyes are opened to the reality that this journey is and will continue to be an imperfect daily pursuit.

This past week has been rough. The pain and the fear people are feeling is so real. A story is attached to each fear. A memory associated with each anxiety about the future.   And they are all relevant. Each emotion is valid.

Whatever side you may land on, there is a deep sense of unknown about what is to come.

As a Christ follower, it is easy to band aid this reality with cliché statements that when being honest, we know good and well they are helping no one but ourselves.

Yes, God is still in control. And yes, God is still good. So then why is there such a disconnect between these truths and the emotions our country is feeling right now?

It is so easy to forget…

I forget the wildness of God. I forget that He is a God of anger and judgment. I forget He sent His only son to die a criminal’s death. I forget He flooded this planet leaving only a few survivors. I forget the darkness of history and the sordid nature of the human soul. I forget that there are consequences both now and in the next life.

We are a broken people. We are imperfect. We are tainted beings in need of reckless grace. And we all live in the same dark world.

So where is the hope?

Psalm 139:23-24 has been a guide post in my life over the past 6 years. As someone who is bent towards evil and darkness, when I read these words for the first time, I was afraid. Afraid of what this prayer would do if implemented in my life.

I was afraid of the discomfort.   I was afraid of the pain that would come in the wake of obedience. I was afraid He would answer…clearly and specifically.

This is a prayer for moral authority.

It was a prayer offered by King David. The same David who killed Goliath. The same David that has the lineage of Christ attached to his name. The same David that is noted as being a man after God’s own heart.

But also the same David that murdered. The same David that was an adulterer. The same David that committed direct and intentional sins against his God, his country, and the people he loved.

In short, this was David’s prayer:

Father, I want to point fingers. I want to judge others. I want revenge against those who have hurt me. But, Lord, right now, I ask you to search me. Point out the darkness. Bring to the forefront of my mind the mistakes, the actions, the deceit. Proactively examine me, Lord. For I know I am not perfect. Remind me.

Father, I think I know what is best, I think I know what the people need, I think I am aware of what change needs to happen, but Father, I know change begins first with me.   So test me. Stretch me. Put me in situations where I will fail. Remind me of my utter dependence on you. Remind me how imperfect I am by how quickly I fail. By how quickly I let you down.

And as scared as I am to whisper this out loud, Father, lead me. Because God knows if I lead myself I will take the situation into my own hands. I will not remain in you. I will not abide. My sin is too strong and my pride is too deep. So, Father, if you will, take over. I know this path won’t be clear. I know I am going to mess up, but Father, I also know there is no other way.

So start with me. Whatever it takes. Search me. Change me. Lead me.

There is a repetitive theme throughout scripture: before God will raise someone up, He usually puts them through a long period of preparation. These waiting seasons for many were ones of intense turmoil and painful pruning. And almost every single time they began with a “search me prayer”…before anything else, the person had to be examined, and prepared.

I think God is calling a generation to step up. To speak up. But He’s God. And conventional is not in His character description. He is dichotomous in every way.   He wants you to confront but not judge. He wants you to speak but not disrespect. He wants action soaked in complete surrender. He wants boldness but utter humility. He wants immediate obedience knowing full well you may never see the fruit of it.

So the question becomes are we willing to pray this prayer?  Are we willing to turn our fear, our hurt, our despair, into a battle cry of: "But first, Lord...start with me."

We all want change but are we willing to prepare?

picture taken from: http://ftc.co/blog/posts/on-leadership-and-maintaining-moral-authority