Martha, Martha

Growing up, whenever I was about to get in trouble, my mom would always begin with, "Say, I've got a question..."  Upon hearing those words, I would brace myself that she had discovered some dastardly deed of mine and a grounding was imminent.

"Say I've got a question...do you know what happened to the basement window?"
"Say I've got a question...where did all the Nutter Butters go?"
"Say I've got a question...why are there still dirty dishes in the sink?"

I would brace myself for the words that would follow. To this day, she'll say those words and I will tense up for whatever she's about to speak.

Being a person prone to anxious feelings, I have spent a good portion of my life bracing myself for bad news and expecting worst case scenarios to play out. I want to be ready for anything, but in preparing myself for the worst, there is much that I miss out on.

When I live constantly bracing myself for potential problems, I am in a near constant state of tension which also means a lack of rest, a lack of peace, a lack of stillness.  I am missing out on the full benefits that are promised to me as a child of God. I am missing out on the joy and freedom and peace that are mine, because I am His.

Whenever anxiety is swirling around in my mind and my thoughts are jumping all over the place to things that are not going well or situations where trouble may arise, this Bible story pops into my head:

"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, 'Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!'

'Martha, Martha,' the Lord answered, 'you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed-or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.'" (Luke 10:38-42, NIV).

Sometimes all I need to hear internally in my flurry of activity is "Martha, Martha," and instantly I picture the difference between Martha and Mary. Martha, trying to do good, important work but with a wrong focus. Mary, a picture of stillness and peace at the feet of Jesus. The contrast is stark. Both are women that Jesus loves very much, but only one has her eyes set on him above all else. Only one is experiencing the rest of His presence.

"The Lord's people must trust Him to sustain and provide for their needs...resting is trusting in action." - Lauren Chandler

I read this quote a couple of weeks ago and it was a direct hit to my heart. If I trust God, and I do, then whatever He brings into my life and allows for me is what is best.

Period.

Unknowns will remain...always. There will always be chaos, or potential chaos, at every corner of life. There will rarely NOT be a reason to be worried. 

The only way to live in a state of rest is to continue to throw my trust on Him, however many times a day it takes. 

In my experience, the areas of my life where I am feeling anxious are the areas of my life that I am not fully surrendering to God. They are areas that, for whatever reason, are hard to give up.

"What you fear the most reveals where you trust God the least" - Craig Groeschel

At various times, those areas have included finances, my love life, my children's health, my relationships with friends or family members; the list goes on and on.

I can live in stillness and rest only where I am ready to embrace...whatever.

So here is what I am working on:

Instead of bracing myself for the worst, I am embracing whatever God brings.

The rest that flows from that place of surrender is complete and immediate. It's trusting God not only in my heart and mind, but with my actions. It's prying my fingers off any areas of concern, and resting in the TRUTH that He is in control and He loves me.

He is in control. And He loves me.

Both beliefs are essential in order for my mind to be at rest.

"God will only give you what you would have asked for if you knew everything He knows." - Timothy Keller

Stop bracing for the worst. Start embracing God's best.

Because with God, it's always His best. Truly.

The more I know Him, the more I experience His goodness and mercy to me, and the more I realize how absolutely worthy He is of being trusted. 

"I don't know where I'm going, more and more each day; it's becoming more alright with me. Because when I know where I'm going my eyes keep me from trusting Thee" - Jason Upton

Coconut or Baby Wipes?

"Gilbert, darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!" - Anne Shirley

I've always loved that my birthday is in January.

I'm a big Christmas girl, and having a birthday in January has always given me something to look forward to when the after-Christmas lull hits.

I know that when the weather is at it's coldest and there aren't any fun holidays or breaks or vacations to look forward to, I can still anticipate a day for myself. Whatever my birthday brings, even if it's a bit of a let-down, I always approach it with a feeling of excited expectation.

This year was no different. The thermometer fell to stifling lows in the middle of the month, but I brushed it off because my birthday was coming!

My boys and I all struggled through colds and sicknesses of varying degrees, but I didn't let it get me down because my birthday was coming!

I went back to work after a brief maternity leave, but I took it in stride because my birthday was coming!

I love birfdays.

Anticipation. Excitement. Expectation.

I played the game Bean-boozled in my counseling groups this week, and the looks on the kids' faces before they ate the jellybeans were priceless. They didn't know whether they would be getting a good flavor or a nasty flavor, but they were excited nonetheless.

There is a flurry of anticipation that arises in us when we know something is coming, even if we don't know exactly what it is.

Coconut or baby wipes? It doesn't matter in that moment before you pop it in your mouth; the excitement is the same.

In each day, we don't know whether what we encounter will be wonderful or awful. But we can still approach it with excitement, expecting God to be at work. Jeremiah 29:13 promises that we will find God when we're looking for Him.

This year I felt a little convicted about my excitement regarding my birthday. I live in such a state of expectation during the month of January or when there is something fun on the calendar. But in my daily life, I trudge and muddle through. I go through the motions just trying to make it to nap time or bed time or mommy time.

I exist, but I don't expect.

How much do I miss by living this way?

There are moments and opportunities in each day that I know I miss by keeping on the blinders of boredom.

I want to expect God to move. I want to anticipate that when the sun rises, He is going to do good things. He's going to show His love for me, He's going to give me opportunities to love others, He's going to remind me of His faithfulness.

I don't want to live bored or deprived because I missed a chance to see God's goodness in any situation.

I love how The Message version interprets Romans 8:15: "This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike 'What's next, Papa?'" (MSG)

I read that this morning and was reminded again of the kind of life that God calls us to as His people. There is no monotony when it comes to God's power and grace.

I long to live intentional. I want to live with my eyes open. I don't want to miss a moment of God.

I want to expect Him.  

"Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive--it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it?" - Anne Shirley

So, I Hate to Vacuum...

My least favorite chore is vacuuming.

I actually kind of love cleaning my kitchen and wiping down surfaces and sweeping up crumbs. I like cleaning my bathroom, wiping spots off of the mirror and toothpaste out of the sink. I even kind of like doing laundry, the redundancy of wash, dry, put away, repeat.

I love seeing progress: the dirt wiped away, the counter clean and bright for one, brief moment.

But I hate vacuuming. It takes a whopping amount of energy or motivation for me to lug out our circa 1985 vacuum cleaner, pick up everything off the floor, plug and unplug the vacuum from room to room.

Ugh. It's the worst.

I think that the main reason that I loathe vacuuming so much is because our carpet is awful. It is wrinkly, it is stained, it is ugly. Until we can afford to remove or replace it, we are stuck with it.

Our carpet is so far gone that it is tough to even tell when it has been vacuumed. In essence, it looks dirty no matter how recently it's been cleaned.

Therefore, I don't see any progress or betterment, so it is difficult to enjoy my hard work. Shoot, forget enjoy, it's hard to even justify lugging our vacuum cleaner out of hiding and picking up every toy off of the floor.

Matt doesn't have to help with a single other household chore; if he will just vacuum for me, my heart explodes in star showers of love for him.

At least when I do other household chores, there's an automatic payoff of momentary cleanliness. When I vacuum, I am still looking at ugly. The carpet may BE clean, but if it doesn't LOOK clean, what's the point?

When it comes to growing deeper in my walk with God, I think it can be similar to my vacuuming conundrum.

Whatever progress is made can be indiscernible at times, which makes it tempting to give up or slack off. I often cannot tell that there is a difference in my growth, especially when it feels like I am fighting the same battles daily, weekly, annually. Whats the point? Why lug out the giant vacuum cleaner or the giant study Bible if it makes no difference? If I feel no different? If my struggle feels the same?

For starters, just because something doesn't look clean doesn't mean it isn't. Just because someone doesn't seem clean, doesn't mean she isn't. Psalm 139 makes it beautifully clear that God knows me more than I even know myself. It's a reminder to me that He sees the progress. I was saved and cleaned and made righteous through Jesus' death on the cross. So even when I don't feel it, I can know it is true. 2 Corinthians 5:21 helps me remember, "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God"

Secondly, retrospect is a great revealer. I may not feel different day-to-day in my walk with God, but when I look back at where I was 2 years, or 5 years, or 10 years ago, I can see how the incremental shifts have added up to abundant change.

Lastly, I need to remember that I don't read my Bible and pray and seek Him because it helps me to feel a certain way. I do those things because I love Him immensely and I want to know Him more.

If the start of this new year is weighing you down more than anything else, and it feels like some struggles will never fall away and your mess remains, I want to encourage you.

Keep pressing in. Keep seeking Him. Keep your desire for Him alive. Stay faithful and you will become fruitful, as He turns those incremental shifts into abundant change. Do the hard work of lugging that metaphorical vacuum cleaner out of the closet and clean away the mess, even if it feels the same when you're done.

He is working. He sees the change. In Him, you are clean.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" - Galatians 6:9

Love's Learning Curve (Happy 7 years, Shoog!)

Matt and I mark 7 years of marriage this weekend!!! In so many ways, that feels impossible. Like, 4 years, maybe. But, 7??? When did that happen??

He's my best friend. He doesn't make me feel crazy for all my emotions and feelings. He makes me laugh and we are total nerds together. He buys me sweet treats all the time to show me he's thinking of me. I have to believe that he does not do this to fatten me up so I'll never leave, much like the witch did to Hansel and Gretal.

He loves me very well.

My hope at this 7 year mark is that I show him my love half as well as he shows me his.

Because you see, I had to learn how to love him well.

I learned early on that feelings didn't take me very far.

As human beings and reflections of God, love is our foundational language. And while the feeling of love comes very naturally and fluently to us, the action of love is all together different.

The feeling of love stays inside of me and is selfishly serving. I am the only one that benefits from that feeling.
The action of love is what is external and thereby serves the other person.
The feeling of love is easy and makes us feel inspired and valuable.
The action of love can be grueling and breaks down every part of our selfish nature.

It took awhile to realize that Matt does not benefit from my feeling love for him, but only from the action I show him.

This means cleaning up the bathtub toys on Saturday nights because he wakes up so early and it is one less thing for him to do on Sunday mornings.
This means not retreating to pout when we argue or my feelings get hurt, but doing the hard work of communicating.
This means affirming him as a husband and father often, because I know how much encouragement means to him.

These are a few of a hundred examples I could give.

There is a learning curve when it comes to love.

When Ezra first joined our family, our older boys were completely enamored by him. They clearly loved him and wanted to show it. But they had to be taught how to love him well.

Finn wanted to hold him all the time, but first he had to learn how to do that. If he never learned how to properly hold Ezra, then chances are that he would one day accidentally hurt him. He had to learn to cradle and support his head, to be gentle, and to not impatiently push him away when he was done holding him.

Jonas was a bit different. He didn't give Ezra as much attention and would easily forget about his presence (babies DO sleep A LOT). But then when he would see him again and his eyes would light up. He would say, "Aww, Ez-a!!" and want to touch his face and pull his hands. He had to learn that those kind of touches are not pleasant for Ezra, and that it is most loving to touch the top of his head. He also had to learn that laying on top of Ezra is not the best way to show his love as it could potentially suffocate (!!!) what he is trying ignorantly to love.

It's not too different when we as adults are in relationship with each other. We have to learn that pushing and suffocating have no place when it comes to truly showing love to another. When we learn how to love others, it is learning the hard lesson that we best love others when we do what is best for them. We deprogram all those selfish, striving efforts to make ourselves feel comfortable, and lift up the other person through our actions.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 is our Biblical teaching on love, instructing us how to love each other well:
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

I have to think that God inspired Paul to write those words because He knew how badly we needed instruction on how to love others well. We are innately selfish and have to learn how to put others first. I can't help but notice that each thing in that passage that we are told to do distinctly puts others ahead of ourselves. It isn't something that comes naturally but only with much practice.

After 7 years of marriage, I hope that I am only getting better and better at honoring Matt above myself. Not because he always deserves it, nor because I always feel it, but simply because I love him. The feeling of love I feel for Matt is all mine and I surely do enjoy it. But the actions I take each and every day are how Matt will know my love, and that is all for him.

Sometimes love is felt and sometimes love is chosen, but to be true it should always be shown.

A Treadmill Tale

Almost immediately once Ezra was born, I was eager to get back on the exercise horse. Baby weight does not magically fall off my body, so I was very ready to put in the work to get my body back to where I was before the pregnancy. I am always so tired of maternity clothes and cannot wait to fit back into my "normal" clothes.

About 4 weeks post-pardem, I squeezed into my exercise clothes. I strapped on my running shoes. I dusted the cobwebs off our neglected treadmill. My goal was to "just run a quick mile". I got on and set the treadmill pace at a familiar number that I used to run at before pregnancy.

Ha. Hahahahaha.

My body laughed at me. Or rather, screamed at me. I grudgingly kept pushing buttons to slow the treadmill's pace. I had barely managed half a mile. My expectations were too great and my pace too fervent. Because I had started off at too fast a pace, I was too spent to complete my mission.

I had hopes to hop back on the treadmill after a casual 9 month break and be able to do what I used to do with ease. Those expectations were unreasonable and, ultimately, unkind to myself.

I had forgotten all of the hard work that I had put in to be able to run at that previous pace. I had forgotten the hours I spent building up my ability to be able to run at the rate and distance that I could before the pregnancy nausea and fatigue set in. I had forgotten that I would probably need to start from scratch.

I tackled the treadmill again a couple of days later. That time, I set the pace at a slower rate with the goal to complete a mile no matter what. It wasn't super easy, but because I was moving at a slower pace, I was able to complete a mile.

My battle with the treadmill reminded me that if I didn't run a mile yesterday (or anytime in the last nine months), it's going to be harder to run a mile today. I can't expect to achieve a goal when I didn't invest the work needed to meet it.

I can't expect where I don't invest. 

One of the main questions I have been asked since Ezra's birth is, "How is it going with three?"

If you had asked me that 1 week, 2 weeks, 5 weeks ago, I would have smiled and said, "It's going much better than I thought!"
And that was true. That was true.

This week has brought a bit of a six-week slump.

I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm tired of being stressed and tired. And what's more: there is no end in sight. There is no end to the list of things that need to get done. Boys need to be fed and changed and taken care of....daily. Laundry and dishes and toys need to be cleaned and put away....daily. I need to shower....daily. 

When Ezra first joined our family nearly 7 weeks ago, I felt strong right out of the gate. I was eager to prove that I could tackle being a mommy of three and do it well. And I really feel like I did. I remember the feeling as I drove to church for the first time with all three. All three were dressed and changed and happy. Even more, I was dressed and showered and happy. Life was good, man.

But this week something has changed. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the to-do. And I just don't feel like I can. I just can't even.

I realized this morning that, like that first day on the treadmill, I spent these last 6 and a half weeks at a fervent pace. Eager to prove that "I got this", I spent energy that I did not have. I spent my reserve supply, and it has been showing. In my emotions, in my parenting, in my relationships, it's showing.

If there was a slow down button to push on life with three kids, I would be pushing it. Again and again. That's not really an option when it comes to being a mommy, however.

When I run, I hit my stride when I am focused on something other than the fact that I am running. I set a good pace and work on breathing correctly, and then I try to focus on something else completely. A sermon, a song, a problem. Some of my easiest runs have happened because I was trying to work out a problem or bad day in my head. If all I think about is the fact that I'm running and can't wait to be done, I will end my run much sooner than if I'm able to fix my gaze elsewhere.

Focus matters.

So what do I do when I'm overexerted and can't get off the mommy treadmill? Sticking with the running theme, my only option becomes to re-set my pace. Correct my breathing. Fix my focus.

I can slow down and take deep breaths in order to deal with the task before me. But even more importantly, I can fix my gaze onto something greater.

For me, that means fixing my eyes on God through gratitude. I become busy giving thanks and there isn't enough room for the icky stuff to creep in and settle down.

Where I can see my boys' energy as overwhelming, I choose to see it as a reminder that they are healthy and strong.
Where I can see the crumbs on the floor as a never-ending means of visual torture, I choose to see them as a reminder that we have food to feed our family.
Where I can see frustration that my body isn't whipping back into shape like I wish it would, I choose to see the miracle in my arms that it brought forth.

When I do this, I invest in my joy and peace, and can therefore expect to see increased joy and peace throughout my home.

Because I know, I can't expect there to be joy and peace when I haven't done any of the work to invest in it.

A steady pace. A fixed focus. A happy heart.

"God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, 'I can't do that'. God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our 'arguments...and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ' (2 Corinthians 10:5) - we have to do it. Don't say, 'Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts.' Don't suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life." - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

How NOT to Help the Hurting

As my husband made his way to the church yesterday, his attention was drawn to a group of protesters outside the Planned Parenthood building. This is not a new sight to him; in fact, it's a fairly common one.

But something struck him differently yesterday. As he watched, one of the protestors yelled directly at a woman entering the building and waved her sign at her with reckless abandon.

Something in his heart hurt for that woman entering the building.

He parked his car and walked over to the protestors. Emboldened, he told them, "This is not Christ's love! The words on some of these signs are awful. I stand with you guys in your beliefs but the words on these signs and getting aggressively in their faces is not Christ's love. Talking with them and praying with them would show Christ's love more than this."

These signs said words like "Butchers", amongst other things.

I truly believe this is not the way Jesus would be dealing with these women. (Psalm 103:10-11)

Time after time during his years of ministry, Jesus used truthful, yet gentle words with those who were lost in sin and hurting.

To the Samaritan woman in John 4, he invites her to abundant life, then speaks to her in straight-forward fashion of the life she has been leading thus far. He didn't get in her face with a sign, but touched her heart through conversation. Verse 39 tells us that "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me everything I ever did.'"

To the adulterous woman in John 8, he cleverly diverts those accusing her and in a moment, lavishes unexpected mercy on her. She expects a stone and receives new life instead. He does not condemn or shame her, but lets grace do its work and tells her to leave her life of sin.

To the rich young man in Mark 10, he answers his questions and when it comes to the moment when he knows the man will meet his stronghold, it says, "Jesus looked at him and loved him" before speaking the words that would make the man turn away to deal with his decision.

To the outcasts and sinners, Jesus abundantly gave love, freedom, healing, and acceptance.

The ones that Jesus spoke the most harshly with were actually the religiously pious. In Matthew 23 he minces no words towards the Pharisees calling them, in swift succession: hypocrites, blind guides, blind fools, blind men, snakes, and brood of vipers. These were men who were representing religion and the law, and they were so busy filling up their minds that they never let the truth of what they learned penetrate their hearts. They were hardened and unmerciful. If they had had a picket sign, they probably would have smacked someone over the head with it.

One of the reasons that what Matt did yesterday hit so close to home for me is because he did something that I was once unable to do. When I was living in Minneapolis, I remember driving past the Metrodome to signs that were shaming and condemning homosexuality. These signs had words so ugly on them that I don't even want to put them here.

I remember driving by with tears in my eyes and a breaking heart. One sign in particular boldly and stupidly declared that God hated homosexuals. I immediately pictured my friend Eric, who is homosexual. Eric and I had grown close. Eric and I talked often about God and I tried to answer his questions as well as I could, a bumbling Bible school student. I had repeatedly and consistently tried to both speak and model the love of Christ to Eric.

It broke my heart and made me angry that he could drive by the lies on those signs outside the Metrodome, and possibly ever believe that God hated him. Though incredibly angered that day, I did not stop. I drove away and let hate have the final word.

A surprising thing happened after Matt's conversation with the protestors yesterday. One of them came into the church and found him. She told him that he was right and that she didn't feel as though they were displaying Christ's love through the measures they were using. He talked with her and prayed with her, and she left with a new strategy to love the hurting.

As followers of Christ, there are absolutely harmful ways to spread our beliefs. These aggressive and selfish tactics only push away the ones that God so desperately wants us to reach.

Micah 7:18 says, "Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy".

If God delights in mercy, then I will seek every opportunity to show it. I am most like Christ when I extend grace and love to the lost and hurting, rather than slinging accusations at those who most need a tender word or gentle touch. Let us invite and invest rather than shame and condemn.

That One Time Jonas Fell

Last night, my boys had beans so I did what any mommy of bean-filled children does on a nice night: we went to the park!

At this particular park, we typically park on the street because its parking lot is on another planet.

We played, we swung, we had a mah-velous time.

As the time came to leave, my boys took off running toward the car. My competitive boys were racing because, of course. As they got closer to the car, I realized that while Finn knows well enough to stop at the car and not run into the road, Jonas may not.

The worst case scenario ran quickly through my mind and my 35 1/2 week pregnant body started trying to walk a little bit faster. Let's be honest, I hadn't moved that quickly in weeks.

Before I could trick my body into a full blown trot, a beautiful thing happened.

Jonas fell.

I caught up to him quickly, picked him up, and wiped his tears. As I did these things, I thanked God that my son had fallen.

Because even though he had gotten a little hurt, it could have been so much worse.

He fell in the soft grass when he could have fallen on the harsh and unforgiving pavement of the street. I hate even going there in my mind, but he could have been hit by a car.

He suffered a minor wound and was spared a potentially mortal one. That fall, however unpleasant, was a blessing.

Naturally, it made me think about how God allows negative things into our lives. Because He is all good and all loving, it is vital to see our own falls in the grass as pockets of grace that save us from far worse fates.

These past few months have not been the easiest our family has ever seen. There have been stressors of many kinds: financial, physical, emotional, spiritual. It has been easy to become discouraged and beaten down.

Then I remind myself of Who God is: in His very nature He makes no mistakes and everything that comes from Him is overflowing with love,  and I cannot despise these difficult days.

Last night's fall o'Jonas reminded me that God will often allow soft trips in the grass, if it helps us to avoid death in the street.

He will allow a heartache if it will prevent a mistake that can't be taken back. He will allow a disappointment if it will prevent a lifelong regret. He will allow a failure if it will prevent us from falling away from Him.

When I look at myself and my circumstances, I see some hard stuff. When I look at Him and His goodness, I see only situations that will arise to bring Him glory.