Stillness

As an introvert, I must admit my heart did a happy flutter when I was told I had to work from home due to COVID-19 restrictions.

Week One didn’t disappoint. I was excited to get to work in my sweats and accomplish a lot in the quietness of my house.

But as I begin to walk through the threshold of Week Three, I don’t feel so fluttery. I feel more like I’m being grounded. Many of my social privileges have been taken away in the last few weeks and I am confined to my home except for a daily walk and an occasional trip to the store.

A blanket of stillness has fallen all over the world.

Even if you are home with your spouse and children, there’s a kind of stillness — no school, no soccer games or gymnastics. Although there may be some hassles related to this new living arrangement, there’s no hustle and bustle. We are just home alone or with our immediate family.

In an instant, our social calendars were wiped clean. Stillness.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this stillness.

Stillness can be unsettling or peaceful.
The lack of familiar distractions can be uncomfortable because it enables us to more easily see issues we have been hiding from or neglecting to address in our lives.
But there’s also a clarity that can come with stillness — a freedom to focus on what truly matters.

God often speaks in stillness.
In 1 Kings 19:11-13, after Elijah had a major victory and defeated the prophets of Baal, fear gripped him, and he ran for his life from Queen Jezebel.
After this, when God spoke to Elijah, His voice didn’t come in a mighty wind, on in an earthquake, or in a fire, but in a still small voice.
And God’s question to Elijah was, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

In this season of stillness, perhaps God is coming near and whispering to each of us, “What are you doing here?” We have a fresh opportunity to truly look at ourselves.
Where do we want to change? What really matters? What relationships do we want to cherish and hold onto?

Stillness can heal.
Psalm 23:2 - 3 says, “He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”
If we cooperate with God’s leading, there is a restorative, healing effect of the stillness and peace God’s presence brings.

Stillness invites us to intimacy with God
Not only do our own issues become clearer in stillness, but God does too. Psalm 46:10 says “Be still and know that I am God.”
The word know in this verse means the know intimately.

My husband is a tall man, and when I give him a bear hug, the side of my face falls on his chest right where his heart is. If I am still, I can hear his slow steady heartbeat. Intimate stillness.

As all the voices in this pandemic season urge us to keep our distance and wash our hands, God’s still small voice is beckoning us to draw near to him, hear His heartbeat and experience His peace.

I don’t want to come out of this time without being changed for the better. So, as I stare at Week Three of “shelter in place,” I am committing to remind myself that I’m not being grounded by this stillness, but rather invited into it -- to know God and His peace more fully.

A Word of Encouragement

Amid the massive upheaval that the Coronavirus is causing, it can be difficult not to fall prey to the fear that is so quickly engulfing the world. But I believe this is a key time for the people of God to walk in the powerful reality of the love and peace that only God can give. While borders, schools, and public events are closing, unique doors of opportunity are swinging open for believers to share God’s hope.

Our challenge is to look with heaven’s eyes at this situation – eyes of faith. This situation does not limit God. What is He doing in this and how can we co-labor with Him? I know of a ministry team that is currently on a Spring Break outreach in New York City. Although some would say the timing of their trip is unfortunate, they have had incredible opportunities to minister the peace of Christ in the midst of widespread panic within the city.

To walk in the faith and power God gives us, we must “put on the full armor of God so that we can stand our ground.” (Ephesians 6:10 - 18)

This isn’t being “super-spiritual.” We still acknowledge the facts. Coronavirus is a real thing. It has the power to spread rapidly. There are healthy choices we can make to try to keep ourselves free from sickness.

But we do not have to fear. We have the power of God’s Word, the sword of the Spirit, to fight against this.
2 Timothy 1:7 is a Scripture that gives us words to live by during this time:

“God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear” – When we feel ourselves slipping down the rabbit hole of “what ifs” that the daily news delivers, we can remind ourselves that this panic isn’t from God. Fight back by doing what you need to focus on the truth of God’s peace amid difficult circumstances.

“But of power” – God’s Word has power. Declare it. Read passages of Scripture over your home, speak them out as you walk in your neighborhood and workplace. Pray them over your country and the world.

“And of love” – How is God inviting you to display and share His love? Be ready to encourage, bless others and share God’s love to those He places in your path.

“And a sound mind” – Look at the facts, rightly assess the threat, make healthy choices. Walk in the wisdom that God brings.

As we choose to trust in God, this can be a “David and Goliath” moment for believers. While the enemy tries to loom large and render the world powerless by instilling fear and panic, we have the opportunity to experience the bigness of our God as we trust in Him and declare His truth. As Hebrews 10:25 says, “But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.” In the days ahead, let’s be carriers of the contagious peace and love that only Christ can bring! Amazing opportunities await us!

Expectantly Waiting

Waiting. It’s frustrating. It’s maddening. It can be holy.

Most of the substantial spiritual fruit in my life has come from seasons of waiting. Long delays have challenged my personal agendas and invited me to slow down and focus on the things that truly matter.

Waiting reveals the condition of my heart.

I love Advent Season. It’s essentially a season dedicated to waiting – expectant waiting to celebrate Jesus’ birth and to anticipate His future return.
Waiting by itself can be pointless, but expectant waiting means there is hope for something ahead. There is purpose to the waiting.

But even expectant waiting can be difficult when it takes a long time. It’s difficult to keep believing day after day that there’s a reason to hope. It stretches me. I can’t do this on my own. I must have God’s help.

One of my favorite Advent songs is “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” by Charles Wesley. That’s a fancy English title that just means, “Come on, Jesus! We’ve been waiting a long time!”

Simeon and Anna are my spiritual heroes. They knew about waiting.

Simeon was a man who “was righteous and devout.” The Holy Spirit was upon him and revealed to him that he would not die until he had seen “the Lord’s Christ.”
Anna was a prophetess who was widowed after only seven years of marriage. She had spent the rest of her life (84 years) living in the temple and worshipping day and night.

Simeon and Anna had actively waited for most of their lives to meet their Messiah. It would be impossible for them not to have expectations about who Messiah might be. It’s doubtful they thought He would be an 8-day-old infant. Their ability to recognize baby Jesus as Messiah shows they had kept their hearts soft in the waiting. They quickly discarded any of their own expectations and glorified God.

Simeon said, “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised you may now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all people.” (Luke 2:29-31)

Expectant waiting gives us eyes to see what God is doing in plain sight – things that might be easy to miss otherwise.

So, this Advent Season, as I anticipate celebrating Jesus’ birth, I’m also leaning in to the places of longing where I’m still waiting for God to show up in deeper ways. And I’m asking for spiritual eyes to recognize His presence – even when He shows up in unexpected ways.

Getting there from here

I've been thinking about my spiritual journey lately and looking at the different junctures I've encountered along the way. All these crossing points start with the letter B, so I think there must be a sermon in there somewhere:)

1. Barriers -- We've all encountered them. They are those things that seemingly will not budge. They can take our focus away from God and tempt us to give up hope. Sometimes they are there because of something sinful we've done, but sometimes they aren't. Either way, these road blocks challenge our faith and trust in God.

Barriers can sometimes be spiritual deserts -- maybe God doesn't seem to be speaking the way He used to, doors of opportunity aren't opening, or life feels stale. I've had a couple of memorable desert seasons in my life. While I was in them, I was sometimes convinced I would never get out. But each desert season had a unique way of slowing my life down. In this place of stillness the areas where my life had become off balance came into focus. I'd placed my confidence too much in a job position or in what other people thought. God was asking me to put my confidence back in him. For me, the ticket out of the desert was surrender -- surrender of the picture I thought my life was going to look like -- surrender to God's plan.

2. Boundaries -- Boundaries are a buzzword in today's society. While they exist for our protection, that doesn't mean they aren't frustrating when they are encountered.

In my life, God has laid boundary lines in front of me several times that have stopped me from moving into a place that I wasn't yet equipped to handle. For me this has happened in situations where God spoke something to my heart and I thought it was supposed to happen right away. Wrong. This delay made me question whether or not I had heard God at all. My ticket out of this dilemma was patience. During the time that I (imperfectly) waited for God to deliver on His word, He was faithfully preparing me to be able to sustain and walk in what He had for me. In His grace, He refused to let me rush the process and risk destroying or diluting his purpose for my life.

3. Borders -- My family lived in Canada for four years, and during that time we crossed the border into the U.S. many times. It was always very obvious when we reached the border. It was a place that was clearly marked where we had to stop and present our identification before we could pass through.

Today, my family lives in Texas, and we regularly visit relatives in Tulsa. When we cross over the border from Texas into Oklahoma, if I'm paying attention, I see the sign letting me know I've entered another state. But there have been plenty of times when I didn't even realize when we crossed over from one state to another.

Similarly, there have been clearly marked events in my life where I've definitely crossed over into new territory. Marriage and parenting were two examples of this. While life still went on after both of these events, it was very apparent that I had entered into a new place. Decisions were made differently. Schedules changed. My life was forever altered -- (for the good).

Then there have been those borders that I crossed in my life without knowing exactly when it happened. These came at times when I walked through a long process of (imperfectly) choosing to be obedient to something God asked of me. One place this happened is where I chose to forgive when my heart didn't want to. For months I flip-flopped in my willingness to give things over to God, but each time I would land on the side of forgiveness. Over time, things didn't hurt as much. Then there was that day when I realized that I actually could wish that person well without wanting to hurl. Somewhere in all the wrestling, my heart had been set free. I'd crossed the border into true forgiveness.

4. Bridges -- Bridges help us cross over to places we could not reach on our own strength. Jesus is the ultimate example of this. He laid down his life and in doing so spanned the huge canyon our sin had created that separated us from God.

There is a selfless path where God calls each of us to be a bridge. There are specific places God asks us to lay down our lives in a way that helps others to cross over into places they could not reach on their own. It's the Body of Christ in action. I want to say yes to that!
(I've written more about being a bridge in an earlier blog I posted in 2012 called "Like a Bridge".)

Keeping it real time (with my husband and Sir Paul)

About 10 years ago when my second daughter started college, she encouraged me to join a social media site called Facebook.

"It's mainly college kids," she explained. "But there are some people on it who are your age, and it will be a fun way for us to stay in contact."

I joined Facebook and had a great time inviting the college students I knew to be my friends. Our home computer at that time was upstairs and each night I would enjoy looking over the posts of my Facebook friends. It felt kind of like reading a news paper with stories about people I knew. I was shocked, however, why people would post pictures of their vacations and things like that. Why did they think everyone wanted to see their pictures of the Rocky Mountains, or Disney Land?

Over the last 10 years as the home computer has taken a backstage to the smartphone, it's become even easier to post personal details on multiple social media websites -- and I have followed the trend.

So much of this has been fun. I've kept track of birthdays and stayed in touch with friends and family in a way that doesn't happen by mailing letters. I can get regular pictures of my grandkids, and FaceTime allows me to see those dear to me as we chat. I enjoy keeping up to date on the events of my friends' lives. Sometimes I even like looking at the photos of what they ate for dinner (within reason).

But the whole social media thing has had an effect on me that I'm not proud to admit.

It's made it harder for me to "live in the moment."

I'm embarrassed to say that many conversations I have with my family and friends are at least temporarily disrupted with the "ping" of a text or Facebook message.

Whenever I have an extended time away from my phone, I'm swift to pick it up to see what I missed while I was gone.

At times when I am enjoying a night out with family or friends, instead of fully entering into the moment, I often think about capturing a photo so I can show everyone on Facebook or Instagram the great fun I'm having.

I want to be better than that.

I first became aware of this problem three years ago.

My husband surprised me with a road trip to Edmonton Alberta to see Paul McCartney in concert. As we sat in our seats waiting for the concert to begin, I pulled out my cell phone and started to take a selfie of the two of us in the midst of a swarm of Paul McCartney fans.

"What are you doing?" my husband asked.

"I'm taking a picture of us to post on Facebook," I answered.

"Dont do that!" he protested as he stuck his arm out to block my shot.

"Why not?" I said perturbed.

"This is OUR anniversary."

BAM.

My husband's invitation for me to join him in real time hit me square between the eyes. It highlighted how I was thinking more about my "friends" in cyberland than I was about the person right in front of me.

We thoroughly enjoyed that evening. Sir Paul came back for 3 encores and the only photo I have to show for it is one I took at the beginning of the evening when we were standing in line waiting to get inside. I'm bundled up in my winter coat standing with a cut out of my favorite Beatle.

All the other pictures of the evening lay in the memories of my husband and I. We truly spent the evening together in real time.

Today my family will tell you I still spend way too much time on my phone, but since that McCartney concert, I'm more aware of the times I manage to live "unplugged" from social media whether it's watching the sun go down, enjoying a cup of coffee with my daughter, or just having a quiet day at home.

When all is said and done, I want to have really lived my life, and not just posted about it.

Offensive prayers

I like to think of myself as someone who is normally pretty gentle and kind.

But recently in my life experiences and conversations with God I have been convicted to be more offensive in the way I pray. Let me explain.

A little over a year ago my family moved from a small village in the Canadian prairies to the booming metroplex area of Dallas/Fort Worth Texas. In many aspects it felt exciting to be in a place pulsing with activity -- along with every store and eatery known to man. But on a deeper level I felt like I had been plopped into the middle of oblivion. In the center of this swirl of busyness and business, I knew very few people, and I struggled to know how to connect with others in a meaningful way. Everything was huge. Our church, with all of it's campuses, had 30,000 people in attendance each week. I felt truly invisible.

I remember thinking that if it weren't for my daughter and my husband living in the same home with me, I could literally die in my house and no one would find me until my body had totally decomposed. No one would know to look for me because no one knew me.

During this time of felt obscurity, I was still praying to God every day. In some way I knew He was with me which made a big difference. He saw me alone in my house doing laundry, cleaning and watching Pioneer Woman and HGTV every day. I even believed that He had called our family to move to Texas. I just didn't know why.

I didn't stop talking to God. I told Him I was willing to do whatever He'd called me to. I asked Him to show me what I should do next. As I continued to check out small groups and Bible studies, I was perplexed as no prospective connections came from it. Everyone seemed to already have their circle of friends. I was tired, and fought a bad attitude when I had to re-introduce myself to people I'd already met several times.

One day as I returned home from my morning walk I was really battling a heaviness that told me that I'd reached my peak -- that this place of anonymity was what my life was going to be.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, "God, You didn't bring me to Texas to finish out my life in obscurity! The best years of my life are NOT over!"

The spiritual atmosphere immediately shifted. I could sense God's Spirit saying -- "That's right. Keep going."

I began to realize that while I had been asking God to do battle for me in this difficult place, He instead wanted to partner with me. He was waiting for me to take up my sword and fight.

As I look back on that hissy fit I had in my kitchen, I can see how I was actually screaming out God's truth back to Him. In a really raw way I was making a declaration about His character. I was learning to wield the sword of the Spirit -- the only offensive weapon we are given by God for spiritual warfare.

I'm beginning to realize that maybe there are times I've been spinning my wheels in prayer because I've been asking for some things God has already given me. For example, I have regularly prayed,"God, please be with me." But as I grab onto His Word from Hebrews 13:5-6 I can also declare, "God I thank you that you will never leave me or forsake me. You are my helper and I will not be afraid."

The shift from a passive request to an active declaration is subtle but powerful.

Declaration is NOT a magic bullet. It does not manipulate God to give me what I want. It's also not the only way to pray. I'm simply realizing for myself it's a piece that has been lacking in my prayer life.

Today as I consider my life here in Texas, I can see places where I am making positive connections through my work and also where my niche might be in this huge cow town. Although I still have days when I ask God why we are here, on the whole my prayer life is more expectant and hopefully more offensive:)

Dance With Me

I am a recovering performaholic.

That means if I'm going to do something -- especially something in public -- I want to do it pretty perfectly. This quality served me well for making good grades in school and for being a good employee, but it has a downside as well.

I can recall multiple times in my life when I was given the opportunity to participate in an activity that I didn't do so well, like playing volleyball or trying to make it over the vaulting horse in P.E. class. Instead of just fumbling through it, I found a way to excuse myself.

Obviously one of the core ingredients of this is pride. In my adult years God has been faithful to lead me through many humbling experiences that have helped to peel layers off of this need to be flawless.

But underneath all of this performance was an even deeper layer -- the longing to be truly known and fully loved JUST AS I AM.

That's been my growing edge for my adult life -- learning how to authentically be myself and understanding how completely God loves me no matter what.

Last month I got smacked head-on with an experience that challenged me at this core level.

It happened when I danced with my husband at a wedding reception.

That may seem like no big deal, but I've never danced with my husband before.

That's probably shocking to some. I actually love to move to music. I grew up going to school dances. But at our Christian college, dancing was prohibited at the time, so my husband and I didn't dance then and never really took the chance after that -- until this reception.

The DJ asked for all the married couples to come out onto the dance floor. It was going to be incredibly obvious that we were NOT participating if we didn't go, so we did. We found a place over by the corner and tried to blend into the big bunch of couples swaying together to the music.

Then the DJ started asking couples to leave the floor who had been married 10 years or less. About half the floor left.

My heart started pounding. I could figure out this game. My husband and I have been married for 33 years, which means that we were one of the oldest relationships on this dance floor. Slowly as each decade of married people were asked to sit down, our dance circle became smaller and smaller until there were only about 7 couples left on the floor.

Suddenly we were very visible. I felt so awkward. I had bad hair, I felt fat and I hated my outfit.

We sat down soon after this, but not before one of my daughter's friends snapped our photo and texted it to her.

My daughter sent it to me. I was horrified. My awkward moment had been captured in a photo. When I got home I said to my daughter "Don't you dare post that anywhere on social media. I'm ugly."

The disappointed look on her face shocked me into reality. I had just danced with my wonderful husband for the first time in my life -- someone who knows me fully and loves me completely -- and the monumental moment was lost on me because I didn't like the way I looked. Instead of focusing on my groom, I focused on myself. God forgive me.

The last month, I've been eating humble pie. I've apologized to my daughter, my husband and God. I'm trying to learn and grow from this.

Last week when I was out for a walk by myself thinking about this experience, I felt the Holy Spirit say, "Will you dance with me?"

I started to cry. I knew this invitation wasn't because my performance had been flawless. I'd really messed up. It was an invitation to focus on the Him and let Him lead in a dance that celebrates our relationship -- one where I am fully known and completely loved.

It would have been really easy to keep this spiritual lesson to myself, but I am sharing it in case there are others who are sitting on the sidelines because they have disqualified themselves in someway. It's not about how imperfect we are. Is about how wonderful God is.

There's plenty of room on the dance floor.