He knows my Name

A terrible tragedy happened just down the street from where my husband and I used to live in Stockton, CA.  A bank robbery and a high speed chase that ended in three people losing their lives.  My newsfeed blew up yesterday with friends who had taken video of what was happening, posted updates on locations to stay away from, and shared news reports to give the latest details on who was involved.  I read through them all.  Searching… praying… praying that I didn’t recognize any of the names. 

 

This was my city, my community, my neighborhood.  My heart hurt for the families who had to be notified of a loved one’s death and when it was all over I was relieved.  Relieved.  Somewhere in that city there was a husband, son, family grieving because that Wednesday had easily become the worst day of their lives and I… was relieved.

 

I was notified last night by a friend in youth ministry that one of their students was the son of the hostage who had lost her life.  Immediately I began to pray for this boy who would never again get to share a hug with his mother, never get to tell her he loved her face to face, never get to fight with her over curfew, and never get to see her face as he said “I do”.  I prayed and thought about it a lot last night.  It kept me up too late and as I drug myself out of bed this morning it was the first thing on my mind.  Yesterday it was just a story that I was reading but last night it was a face, a name, a voice of someone who was living out that nightmare.  The feeling of relief had left me and was replaced by a deep sadness as I looked at my own boys and hugged them a little tighter.

 

I started my day not knowing any of the names on that report; I started that day hearing about a story.  But then God reminded me of something- that story was someone’s reality and while I don’t know their names- He does.  He knows every one of them.  He knows the very details of their lives.  He has thought of them more times than there are very pieces of sand on the shore.  They were His creation.  HE knew their names.

 

Now I am not saying that I should be guilty for my initial feeling of relief but I was made quite aware in that moment of how different “stories” and “realities” are.  Stories are distant; realities are ever present.  Stories are impersonal; realities are so painfully personally. Stories impact us for a moment; realities impact us for the rest of our lives.  We read stories, but we live realities. 

 

We read stories, but we live realities.

 

May we never forget that God is not a story, He is a reality, and He knows our names.

 

In the midst of our struggles, in the midst of our pains, He calls us by name.  He loves us.  He is for us and not against us.  He fights on our behalf.  He strengthens our weakened bodies with His power.  And He carries us through the seemingly never ending days.  

 

God is our reality, and we are His.

 

 

 

 

Psalm 139:1-18
 O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.  You know when I sit down or stand up.  You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.   You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.  You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord.  You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!  I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.  If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.  I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night— but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.  To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.   You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.  You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.  You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book.  Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!

 

 

 

Just Keep Swimming

On a visit with Pastor Lori, the very last one I would unknowingly ever have, I got to talk with her about this blog.  It wasn’t on my agenda of things to talk about as she lay in her bed Duck Dynasty playing quietly in the background.  In fact, at that particular moment it was one of the furthest things from my mind.  I was thankful to be having a conversation with her, cherishing every moment I had in the warmth of her own home.  My last visit was vastly different and it had left me a little shaken, but this visit- this one was different.  My prior conversation with her in the hospital was quiet and unfamiliar.  I was so caught off guard that I did what I seem to do often these days when facing unknown territory.  I wrote.  I wrote about her fight with cancer, and a few weeks after it had posted a visiting friend had read it aloud to her. 

 

Pastor Lori looked at me over dinner, our personal conversation being over for some time, and brought back up how she just loved the blog.  She loved the parallel from something she had taught me while I had lived there as a teenager to our everyday Christian walks and it was so heartwarming to hear her speak of it.  I didn’t feel that special, that important.  It felt meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but to her it was beautiful.  “You are a great writer” she told me, “you should keep writing”. 

 

There are many things Pastor Lori is but a sarcastic encourager is not one of them.  She would not be the type of friend often referred to on talent shows such as American Idol after someone truly terrible gets up to sing and says their friend thinks they are great.  Their friend told them to sing on National Television.  Their friend knows they should win.  Well, I hate to break it to you- but that person is not your friend.  They might just hate you.  Or want to humiliate you.  Either way, not your friend.  Those auditions make me cringe (and make my husband happy inside, which makes me wonder what that says of him). 

 

Pastor Lori was not one of those types.  She meant every word of it.  I was so humbled in that moment that I was unsure how to respond, so naturally I smiled and kept eating because food solves a multitude of uncertainties (kidding of course- for the most part). 

 

“You should keep writing.”

 

Last summer after she passed away I stopped.  I stopped writing because it was too hard.  I didn’t want to encourage anyone else because I was hurting and needed a friend myself.  I considered stopping altogether, walking away from the path I was once so sure of.  I could do it.  I could stop.  No one would even notice.  No one would even care.  Have I done anything that has made any kind of a difference anyway?

 

Angry.  I was so angry.

 

A month had gone by and I had posted once, and then a few more months and I had posted only a few more times.  It wasn’t something I wanted anymore, I felt like it was doing no good in the grand scheme of things.  No one would even notice if I just stopped.  And then while visiting a church very dear to my heart I had an interesting conversation with a father who had read a post after his daughter had shared it.  “Are you still writing” he asked.  I wanted to say “unfortunately, yes” but instead just said “when I can”.  He looked at me and said, “that’s great because you are really good at it.”  The words came from his mouth but I heard it in her voice.  I didn’t feel great at it.  I wasn’t even sure if I could do it anymore but for that moment I could hear her voice and I knew if she was still here she would be saying the same thing. 

 

As I sit here and write today I remind myself of her words.  I don’t always “feel” like it.  I don’t always “feel” like anything I write makes any sort of difference but even if it is for one person for one day, then it must be worth it.  That post was for her.  That post made her day in that hospital bed and that was worth the pain of writing it. 

 

All throughout scripture we find God speaking to us, reminding us to keep going.  Keep making right decisions.  Keep trusting Him.  Keep loving the sometimes unlovable.  And it sucks.  Yep, it sucks.  Because we don’t always feel like it.  We want to stop.  We want to ask what kind of a difference it is making anyway.  We wonder if anyone would even notice our not being at church.  Would they?  Would anyone even care?  I could stop, you think.  I could walk away from everything.  And the sad truth is that many have.

 

If you feel like you are fighting a losing battle then hear me out… keep going.  One more day.  One more choice to do right.  One more prayer.  One more church service.  Just one more.  Because it won’t always “feel” easy and full of rainbows and butterflies.  Sometimes (most times if we are honest with ourselves) things get hazy and hard, but we must choose to keep going.  Keep believing.  Keep trusting.  Keep loving. 

 

God somehow always sends the right people at the right time to remind us… to just keep going.  So this post is for your Pastor Lori.  I am still writing and still trusting that it is worth it... even for the one.

 

Ephesians 3:16-19

I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep His love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

 

 

 

I have to do it myself

Standing toe to toe with anger, offense, bitterness, betrayal, hurt, pain, loss or grief is nothing uncommon.  We do it several times a month, a day even, and when we aren’t the ones facing such issues it seems as though our friends are.  Difficulty is all around us, and no one is out of its destructive reach.

 

Through the many struggles of life we are faced with a decision, a choice that can only and will only be made by none other than ourselves… a decision that will alter our present and inevitably change our futures.  The battle we are facing is ours to fight, only ours, but the outcome will affect many.  So we decide, we choose, to do battle.  We choose to put on our gloves and confront the very issue that plagues us.  No one can carry us through; we have to do it ourselves.

 

Reflecting on the past few weeks I have had with many dear friends in the midst of their own storms, I have felt a bit at a loss.  Helpless.  Like I could do nothing to fix or change their circumstances.  I want to swoop in and be the hero, make everything right again, but I can’t.  The only thing that is within my ability to do is to pray for God to intercede and then take a front row seat to their victory… and in some cases their defeat. 

 

Some people will choose unforgiveness, some people will choose hatred, some people will choose revenge, some people will choose destructive behaviors that carry them further and further into the darkest of seas… and I have a front row seat.

 

Well my friends, I can't do it anymore.  I need to do something... anything!

 

When God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt he wasn’t just asking him to lead them on a long walk.  He was asking Moses to fight against every enemy that would come against them, and there were many.  He was asking Moses to look beyond their sin, look beyond their complaining, look beyond their rebellion, and fight for them.  Fight for them because he was the only one who was promised victory.  He was the only one. 

 

In Exodus 17:8-16 we find Moses instructing Joshua to lead the army to battle as he would stand on Mt. Sinai with his arms raised.  This was how God instructed Moses that they would win; Joshua would fight and Moses would stand with his hands to the heavens.  At first glance it sounds like Moses got the better end of the staff, so to speak, but have you ever tried holding your arms up for any length of time?  I have… it was one of our punishments as kids.  We had to stand in a corner with our hands above our heads… and it stinkin’ hurts!  As long as Moses’ hands were up, they would win… but he got tired as anyone would, and his arms that once weighed only a few pounds now felt like he was carrying the literal weight of the world and as they sank lower to the ground the armies sank lower to their enemy. 

 

Only Moses’ hands would earn their victory.  Only his.  Aaron (Moses’ brother) could do no good with his arms flailing in the air begging for God to give the battle to him, it was not his battle to fight.  But reading further into scripture we find that Aaron could do something.  He could do one thing.  He could hold up the arms of Moses.  He could support him.  Because even though Moses had to do it himself, he did not have to do it alone.

 

So if you are facing a battle of your own, find a friend to help hold your arms up; someone who will support you no matter their personal opinions, someone who will challenge you to keep doing right when you get tired and weak, someone who will remind you to think and speak the Word over your situation, and someone who will stand with you believing God for your victory.

 

And if it isn’t you that is facing the storm, find a friend who is.  Be the one to decide that while you can do nothing but “be there”, that “being there” is enough.

 

Because while we have to do it ourselves, we don’t have to do it alone.

 

Philippians 1:27

Above all, you must live as citizens of heaven,
conducting yourselves in a manner worthy of the Good News about Christ.
Then, whether I come and see you again or only hear about you,
I will know that you are standing together with one spirit and one purpose,
fighting together for the faith, which is the Good News.

 

 

 

 

How did I get here?

With Father’s Day being this past weekend I was so thankful to have been in Northern California to celebrate my amazing Dad.  I can honestly say that I am who I am today because of him.  Yes, genetics plays a huge role in that, but my dad genuinely cares for people in the most sacrificial of ways and I know that I am a better youth pastor because of his example.  Being a few hours away now I wanted this day to be extra special so I tried to think of what he likes… and then it hit me; he enjoys homemade things but even more than that he loves surprises.  This of course gets a little tricky when you are trying to execute a plan while staying in his house with him around every corner.  In times like these it comes at a great benefit to be able to tell a complete believable lie… on the spot… with a straight face.  Not to say that this is a quality worth bragging about, but with all honesty I can say that I have only used my powers for good.

 

So here was the plan, we were going to surprise him at one of his favorite Mediterranean food spots and have a family dinner.  This could only be achieved with a few “stories” (because it sounds more Christ-like than lying) being told to him. 

 

Story #1- “I am baking cupcakes because someone found out I am in town and offered to pay me for them.” (When in reality they were for his special dinner)

 

Story #2- “Mom and Bethany need to run to the store to get a few more things for dinner.”

 

Story #3- “Since Mom and Beth are gone can you drive with me, Dad, so I can just run in to drop the cupcakes off without having to get Jake out of the car?” (This of course made way more believable due to the fact that Jake had been acting like his affectionate nickname- The Albino Terrorist- and my dad pitied me.)

 

Story #4- “We should stop by an ice cream shop and get a scoop while we are out… or better yet since Jake has had a ton of sugar, some hummus from Daphne’s!”

 

Story #5- “The girl is running late at her house so let’s stop for hummus first!”

 

The conclusion… My dad walking into the restaurant in a tank top (something he would never ever EVER wear to a dinner table), gazing at the menu, while all of my siblings and my mom are seated at a table complete with a fancy tablecloth and cheesy grins.  It was a glorious moment, I pulled it off.  I am the greatest liar ever!

 

Not braggingly of course.

 

And definitely not true.

 

That title, without question, is reserved for someone we all know too well.  He is the father of lies and sometimes like my dad we find ourselves stumbling into places completely unaware of the plans he has set out for us.  Have you ever had a moment of clarity and upon reflection of your life exclaimed, “how did I get here?”  How did I become this person?  How is this my life?  How have I come so far from God without even noticing?  This was never my dream, how did I get here?

 

I had a chance to meet up with a close friend of mine a few days ago and I heard those five words creep out of her mouth like a dark cloud creeps into a blue sky without warning.  It is one of the most heartbreaking things a person can hear, and even more heartbreaking to be the person saying it.  My heart was filled with sorrow and at that moment I wished more than anything that I could do something to help but I knew that all I could do was pray.  And so that’s what we did; we prayed.  And then as she left I continued to pray.  As I got halfway home I found myself still praying and even now as she crosses my mind I can’t hold back the prayers that fill my heart.  I want only the best for her and this was so far from it.  I had watched my friend so full of life and passion turn into a numb form of a woman, just trying to survive each day.  How did she get here?

 

And then I reflected on my past week staying with my parents.  Remembering the moments crying in a back room because the stress of my once do-no-wrong miracle baby had turned into a holy terror and all I wanted to do was sleep… for like twenty years… because I just couldn’t handle any more stress.  How did I get here?  How did I go from strong, capable, adaptable, woman to someone who hides from a two foot tall albino in a dark room?  How did I get here?

 

There are things both beyond our control and in it that have the power to guide us, and like a man without a map we find ourselves in the darkest of places that we were never intended to be.  It wasn’t God’s plan, and it surely wasn’t mine.  And while we may have not intended to be there, I can assure you my friend that someone did.  The bible says that “the devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy you” (John 10:10).  He knows exactly which doors to open, what words to speak, and who to use to lead you to your very death.  He has a plan for your life, a sometimes glamorous but never fulfilling plan; like a mirage that you chase into the depths of a desert, only to find yourself alone and exhausted.  And even worse he can tell a completely believable lie… on the spot… with a straight face.  Just ask Eve, or Judas, or Peter… or anyone else for that matter!

 

I hate that the lies are so believable at first.  A dear friend of mine has always said that “the truth is so foreign because the lies are so familiar.”  The lies that steal our dignity, our worth, our dreams, our futures; the lies that slowly creep in and guide us into the darkest of places.  It won’t be fun.  It won’t be worth it.  It will hurt.   It is a big deal.  Whatever the lie… you will regret it, and you too will find yourself in a place of torment and loneliness saying “how did I get here?”

 

And if by chance you are in that place this is my prayer for you. I pray that you would find the “abundant life” that the Lord has planned for you (the response to the devil’s plans in John 10:10).  That you would learn to lean on and trust in Him to guide you back to a place of safety and security, a place where foundations never shake even during the strongest of storms.  That come Hell or high water you will choose to do the right thing and not just the easiest. That you walk in love and forgiveness toward others and yourself.  That you never forget that dark place and keep it as a reminder for when you are tempted to believe the lies again. 

 

That you never again have reason to say… “how did I get here?”

 

 

 

Psalm 91

¹ Those who live in the shelter of the Most High
    will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
² This I declare about the Lord:
He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;
    he is my God, and I trust him.
³ For he will rescue you from every trap
    and protect you from deadly disease.
⁴ He will cover you with his feathers.
    He will shelter you with his wings.
    His faithful promises are your armor and protection.
⁵ Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,
    nor the arrow that flies in the day.
⁶ Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness,
    nor the disaster that strikes at midday.
⁷ Though a thousand fall at your side,
    though ten thousand are dying around you,
    these evils will not touch you.
⁸ Just open your eyes,
    and see how the wicked are punished.

⁹ If you make the Lord your refuge,
    if you make the Most High your shelter,
¹⁰ no evil will conquer you;
    no plague will come near your home.
¹¹ For he will order his angels
    to protect you wherever you go.
¹² They will hold you up with their hands
    so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.
¹³ You will trample upon lions and cobras;
    you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet!

¹⁴ The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me.
    I will protect those who trust in my name.
¹⁵ When they call on me, I will answer;
    I will be with them in trouble.
    I will rescue and honor them.
¹⁶ I will reward them with a long life
    and give them my salvation.”

 

 

He is everywhere!

Youth camps were a big part of my teenage life.  As soon as one was over I was counting the days until the next one would happen.  When I was sixteen I had become so fond of these camps that I became a co-counselor and at 17 I was counseling on my own.  I don’t know exactly what I was thinking considering I myself was still in high school but those weeks brought some of the best memories I have as a teenager.  One of which being the traditional stop at the Pizza Factory in Marysville on the way home.  It was such a fun time to defrag from the week with other leaders, laugh at the craziness, and thank God for lives changed.  It was the only time each year that I knew we’d all have the chance to sit around a table, eat some amazing pizza, and be in awe of yet another incredible week.  God is so good.

 

As the years have come and gone we have moved a little further and a little further away from that camp up in Chico, CA but it’s memory will stay with me a lifetime.  From time to time I crave the camaraderie I found at that table, the encouragement, the laughs, the memories made, and even that delicious pizza.  Oh the pizza! If only it weren’t a five hour drive to get that little slice of heaven! 

 

After being in Visalia just a short while, my husband and I decided to explore our new city a bit and take the boys on a drive up the mountain to the Sequoia National Forest. (Granite we had only made it to the gate before realizing that we had started our trek a bit too late in the day for the boys to really appreciate it without a nap and had to turn back around.)  When we were about twenty minutes into our trip we reached a place called Three Rivers and we were in awe at how charming this little nook of a town was hidden in the mountains.  It has the cutest little ice cream shop, antique stores, trails galore, and then- out of the corner of our eyes we spotted it- a Pizza Factory!  It was here too!

 

Many of you who know our family, or have been following the blog, know that we lost an incredible woman last summer.  She had a huge impact on not only my life but so many others.  She was my youth pastor, my mentor, my spiritual mom.  Her words of advice have not only run laps but marathons in my mind throughout each season of life and as I saw the pizza sign that day for one of my favorite teenage memories something she had once said came to life for me...

 

“God is bigger than [where you are now]”.

 

I have to say I teared up a bit and had a bit of difficulty swallowing due to the giant lump in my throat that had formed from hearing her voice yet again in my head.  Her loss hasn’t been easy and I think of her often.  But this piece of advice, this one I’m sharing with you today, holds special meaning.  It was one of the last ones she had left with me before leaving this earth and I hope it speaks volumes to you…

 

We had been visiting after my husband and I had moved to Stockton (about 4 years ago) and she was inquiring as to how we were liking things.  “We love it”, I remember saying.  “It’s not Roseville, but it’s exactly where we are supposed to be right now and I love it.” She started smiling and shared with me about how she herself and her husband had faced a similar transition early in their marriage.  They were moving from a town she had always known to a place she had only heard of.  “It was scary, but I realized afterward that God was bigger than Marysville.”  She had moved from a place where she had come to know God and realized that He was with her wherever she went.  And not only that, but He was already in that new place working on people before she had even gotten there.  He wasn’t tied down to a city or to a place, a camp or a church.  He was everywhere. 

 

He is in the small church down the street and the megachurch on the corner.  He is in the town of two hundred and the city of two million.  He is present as far as the eye can see and He is present in places our human minds will never be able to comprehend.  He is everywhere.

 

He isn’t your mom and pop hole in the wall coffee shop, He’s Starbucks, and He is everywhere.

 

So for my friends who are graduating, the ones facing big life changes, and the ones still undecided about what to do next- rest in this, God is bigger than where you are now.  You will see, just as I had when finding that Pizza Factory hidden in the side of a mountain, that God is not so small that He can only be contained to one place.  He is bigger.  You don’t need to worry if God will provide; He will.  You don’t need to worry about the right doors opening; they will.  You don’t need to worry whether or not you will make new friends, new memories; you will.  You don’t need to fear the future, any part of it, because God is bigger than where you are now.  Take a big breath and jump right in to the destiny God has for your life, just as a child in a swimming pool.  It may be scary at first because you’ve never done it before but don’t worry; your Father is already there.

Psalm 46:1

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." NIV

Psalm 46:1

"God is our Refuge and Strength [mighty and impenetrable to temptation], a very present and well-proved help in trouble." AMP

Am I Okay?

They fumble around with no sense of direction or common sense.  They have way too much energy, courage, and curiosity for their tiny awkward stature.  And they always get into way too many shenanigans to be left unsupervised even for a moment… children… they are terrifyingly unaware of anything… until it is too late, that is.

 

As a teenager these miniature humans seemed so fragile.  At a youth event I once saw a child take a nose dive off of a few stairs onto a tile floor only to see the parent look at me and without missing a beat say, “don’t react”.  SERIOUSLY?! Your kid probably has a brain bleed after that fall and you are asking me to not  react, not even to check to see if he is ok?  I know he said this because he could see my eyes widen to an abnormal width and my arms flail out like a pizza delivery boy protecting his pizzas after being cutoff in traffic, but this was a time for panic- wasn’t it? 

 

I learned a very valuable lesson that day, one I will carry with me always as a mother.  When a child gets hurt, or thinks they may have gotten hurt, the first thing they will do is look for their parents' face and without uttering any words ask the question, “am I okay?”.

 

It has been proven time and time again.  And with much practice I have learned something even more valuable with dealing with a child who unfortunately has taken after his very clumsy mother; to the extent that I react they react. 

 

If I am in a panic then my boys will follow my lead and think that tripping over the rug for the umpteenth time will in fact be the cause of their untimely deaths.  But if I am calm as I hypothetically watch my child run through the house (after being told not to over a million times) and head straight for the side of our couch causing him to spin out of control and smack his face on the ground, all the while being watched by our social worker who is judging to see if we would be fit parents to adopt a little girl (or two), then I can instruct my shaking son who is looking at me with eyes that would bring any mother to tears and peacefully say- “you are ok, I know that must have hurt, but you are okay” and watch as he takes a big breath and continues on with the story of his baseball game.  Eye turning colors, swelling to double the size, and all.  Hypothetically of course.

 

But he is okay.  Because I said he was.  Not in a “suck it up, be a man” kind of way, but in a trusting “mom would know what to do if it was really bad” kind of way.  I have seen my fair share of trips, falls, smacks, whacks, and everything in between with these two boys of mine and I know as any parent would when it is most definitely not okay.  So when my boy looks at me after yet another accident I can assess if this is a hold-them-tight-and-repeat-you-are-okay kind of moment or wink-at-their-clumsiness-and-laugh-it-off one. 

 

Over time I have realized that there are many ways to deal with the fumbling’s of children.  Many that causes the children more trauma than comfort when a situation is catapulted way out of control with a parent’s hysteria.  And as children do, they feed off of that reaction and assume that they are in fact dying.  This is the end.  That is the last patch of grass they will ever trip over.

 

Here is what we can all learn from this, being a mother or not.  When we as children of God find ourselves in tough situations, look for His face.  Don’t look around at other people who will nine times out of ten make you feel more angry, more bitter, more hurt than you already do after a three hour venting session.  Look for His face.  Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Creator of the universe, the One who knows the beginning and the end, our Father, will most certainly be saying- you’re okay.  I know that must have hurt, but you are okay.

 

Not in a suck it up, fake it 'til you make it kind of way.

 

But in a trusting, my Father would know what to do if it was really bad, kind of way.

 

Look for His face.  Seek refuge in His divine nature.  Rest in His willing and able hands. 

You don’t have to pretend that you are okay in that moment, just trust that you will be.

 

 

 

2 Thessalonians 3:3

But the Lord is faithful.  He will establish you and guard you against the evil one.

 

2 Samuel 22:3-4

My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation,

my stronghold and my refuge, my Savior; You save me from violence. 

I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.

Change is Coming

Change is coming.  Like a storm on the horizon.  It is inevitable.  No one knows how bad it will be, where exactly it will affect the most, or even who it will drag into the middle of it all.  Only one thing is for sure… it is coming.

 

I can say this with all certainty, without even knowing your precise situation, because I know something both exciting and terrifying that many choose to ignore- life is change.  Whether you love it or hate it, it has always and will always be there.

 

When you are 12 you are promoted to junior high.  You lose recess but get school dances.  You lose friends but get a new school.  Change.

 

When you are 14 you are promoted to high school.  You lose your seniority but get a larger campus.  You lose your voice in a big crowd but get a larger variety of classes.  Change.

 

When you are 18 you graduate high school.  You lose a familiar environment but get a renewed sense of freedom.  You lose friends you’ve spent years making memories with but get the ability to choose the direction for the rest of your life.  Change.

 

When you are in your twenties there are even more changes.  New cities, new schools, new churches, new jobs, new relationships.   You get married and have a baby.  You have three babies.  Change change change.  And of course all of these are just the typical (minus the family of five status) and don’t even include a possible divorce in the family, a death, a big move, a loss of a friendship, a loss of a mentor.  So many things are constantly changing that the only thing you can bet your money on… is change.

 

I have gone through my fair share of transitions, the most recent of which being our big move to Visalia.  And for the sake of complete openness and honesty it was the hardest season of bitterness I have had to walk through to date.  Not because we moved.  Not because we felt we were wrong for moving.  Not even because every single bit of my life was altered.  It was hard because of people.

 

People make change hard.

 

People that I loved and had to leave.  People that we had poured our lives into and were devastated that God had called us on.  People that not only disagreed with our journey but made it a point to tell us how displeased they were.  People that have ignored, shunned, and even stopped believing in the calling of God on our lives because it didn’t match the plan they had for us.  All because of that dirty six letter word; change.

 

In this new season, in this new city, in this new church, and in our new home I am surrounded by an array of newness and I find myself disillusioned instead of delighted.   It isn’t what I thought it would be.  Instead of joy I am feeling loss.  Instead of excitement I am feeling anxiety.  But I know that I am where I am supposed to be, so why does it have to be this hard?  Why does change have to hurt?

 

While talking to (more like word vomiting all over) my beautiful Aunt over the weekend she made a profound statement that has brought me such peace in the midst of this storm.  She said… “you aren’t losing, you’re expanding”.  We see change as loss.  I lost a house that I made memories in.  I lost a youth group that I love dearly.  I lost mentors who once encouraged me.  I lost a sense of purpose that once defined me. But that isn’t the way God sees it.  The Bible says that “His ways are above my ways.  His thoughts are above my thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8). 

 

Everything I thought I had lost, God has expanded.  He has pushed the walls back that I once believed were so immovable and I am living in this idea of “more”.  More places for memories to be made, more students to love on and believe in, more voices that have helped shape and guide me, more vision and possibility than I could see before.  It isn’t loss it is expansion.  It isn’t less it is more. 

 

God’s intentions for our lives, His plans for us, are to move us from glory to glory (from better to even better) but we often see the years pass as two steps forward and one step back.  Something gained and something lost.  We make everything so personal that we forget the “more” that God has in mind.  We see change as bad instead of just different.  We “lose” a friend instead of a friendship being different.  We “lose” a home instead of our home being different.  We “lose” a job instead of a job being different.

 

The only thing we truly lose with change is our preconceived expectations.

 

It isn’t what you thought it would be.  It isn’t how you thought it would go.  It isn’t who you thought would stick around.

 

It isn’t our thoughts, our ways.  And that’s ok.  It never will be.  But know this; you are not alone in it.  We all go through change and will for the rest of our lives.   So get ready, because it is coming. 

 

 

Psalm 18:30

As for God, His way is perfect;
The word of the Lord is proven;
He is a shield to all who trust in Him.

 

Psalm 145:17

The Lord is righteous in all His ways,
Gracious in all His works.