Accomplishment or Assignment?

Do not seek to accomplish the task at hand; but rather seek to fulfill the assignment given to the fullest of your ability.

That is what I hear Father whispering to me as I complete the book in front of me. Many will say it is a great accomplishment. I suppose it is. But that is not why I wrote it. It was given to me as an assignment. why do I say that? Because years ago i received a short and sweet prophecy, “you will write a book”.  That made it an assignment.

Accomplishments are the same as completed goals. When we accomplish something, it is usually because we set our minds to something and finished it to the end. People are often mesured by what they have accomplished. I cared about my accomplishments until I met Jesus.

Now i have assignments. And I better be sure I know what the current assignment is. Sometimes it can look like an accomplishment.

Accomplishments are good. They are like feathers in our hats. However, once completed, they lose their shine and glory, and it takes another accomplishment to continue the good feeling.

An assignment starts from a source outside of ourselves. it is not always something we are excited to do. Remember homework? Yea, that wasn’t too exciting though it was often an accomplishment to complete it. But the greatest result of completing an assignment is the response of the one giving it. A teacher saying congratulations and giving you a good grade for completing an assignment feels good. Well done! Accomplishments often go unnoticed or unrewarded.

In high school, I so wanted to be a songleader. I set out to accomplish that goal and I did make the squad. I was able to pat myself on the back. No one did that for me. It was a great accomplishment. I didn’t know about assignments then, Perhaps the desires of our hearts are assignments God put there first. That would surely make  becoming a songleader much more of something I would cherish. God sent me there! yes!

Recently I had an assignment to go up to someone I didn’t know and ask them if they had ever had a repetitious dream. I am not a dream interpreter, so this was a challenge. What if they rejected me? What if I failed? Seeking to accomplish something also can meet with failure, but the only person you disappoint is yourself. When you fail on an assignment, you disappoint the one who assigned the task.

Maybe I am splitting hairs. Maybe they aren’t that different. All I know is that writing a book was something I dreamed of accomplishing, but when I saw that God was assigning me to write a book, the heaviness of the project caused the dream to be a reality. If no one knew I was writing a book, I would disappoint no one. But now, I had an assignment. God knew, because He put it in the heart of that person to tell me.

Accomplishments and assignments both carry the heaviness of performance. I know that God is not interested in our performance. So if I had failed to complete the assignment of writing this book, He would not have cast me out of heaven. His grace would have immediately relieved the disappointment and love would always remain. But disappointing Him, even for a flash, was a heavier load to carry than failing.

Whenever I look at possibilities in front of me, choices I have to make, I find it clarifies my thoughts of what to choose if I consider if they were accomplishments or assignments. You see, an assignment from God will be perfect for me because it will suit my identity and my calling. He knows those, often better than I do. So completing that assignment will bring me closer to my purpose on this earth.

If that potential project ends up being a future accomplishment, and not a God assignment, no matter how awesome and good the accomplishment, it doesn’t compare with what happens when you follow an assignment. You may feel accomplished, but the joy isn’t lasting. It may simply become a line on your resume.

Knowing this book was an assignment kept me on task. I knew that God was waiting, and guiding its completion. I knew I wasn’t in it alone. I wanted to be able to complete it as brilliantly as I was able, and hand it to Him as a gift. I wanted to hear “well done.”

I have accomplished many things in my life. As I look back, some of them were not assignments and were in fact distractions that drew me away from the focus of God’s assignments. Fortunately, the assignments don’t go away, just like housework. They are always waiting. And I am glad of that.

I am no longer interested in just accomplishing something in my life. I want to be listening to the voice of God giving me my next assignment. I don’t want to be distracted by looking for something to do to fill the void, and miss the thing that He has assigned, and therefore will see through to the end. I don’t want to lean on myself anymore. it is a lonely place. Partnering with God is the best way to accomplish anything. Yes, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. That is not a gift I want to waste on anything except His assignments. I am ready for the next one!

 

 

 

I Identify As…….

My passion is identity. So imagine my angst when I see casual explanations of identity by simply using the words, “I identify as …….” and fill in the blank with male, female, dog, cat, black, white, brown, adult, child, muslim, christian etc …. the options are endless.

It is what happens when freedom of choice takes a rabbit trail ride  into permissiveness and goes awry.

God created us with free will. His purpose was for us to choose right from wrong, God from self, truth from lies. He didn’t want to manipulate us into the things he created for us as He knew that when we choose love, good, righteousness, it makes a difference. If it was in us automatically, it would not have value.

Choosing to identify with whatever suits your fancy or feelings at any given moment is an assault on that precious gift He gave us. We forget that He gave us free will while also laying out a foundation of righteousness. The two trees in the garden symbolize that foundation. The only way to know if you are making good choices is to know what a bad choice is. A bad choice was when Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of the garden that was forbidden. As soon as they did it, they knew it. They felt shame. When you directly go against design and truth, you know it. You can’t blame God saying, “You didn’t tell me”. He did. You disobeyed and there are consequences.

I wonder if the trend of the day to support any identity that feels right at the moment is a result of those same people, sometimes children, not being told what the good fruit was so they could know that the choice they are making is contrary to God’s design.

When we are born, we are identified as male or female. Our genitalia makes that decision. What doctor would agree to treat a child as “we are letting her/him decide what he/she wants to identify as”. Is this the demise of even our language use of the words her/him and he/she? Knowing who we are is tantamount to being comfortable and secure in living life to its fullest.

It is concerning to me that God’s design is taking a back seat to feelings and impulses. While I recognize there is a legitimate belief by those declaring their identity that they truly are who they say they are, it is deception. And when we agree with it and let it replace truth, we too are deceived.

Is there such a thing as too much freedom of choice too soon? Are we as adults and parents making a mistake by embracing the choice as more important than the  beautiful design God created them to be? Do we even offer that alternative? I think we need to . Everyone benefits from choice.  It is universally true that male genitalia is quite different from female, and consequently one is male and the other is female. That is a fact, irrefutable. No matter what you put on that piece of paper, you are not “other” … you are male or female based on your body parts, a precious creation of God.

When Johnny comes home one day and says he wants to put on a dress because he wants to be a girl, we have an obligation to be sure he has other options. I can’t imagine many parents are responding to that with glee and excitement in the context that Johnny is “finding his true identity”. Perhaps Johnny is testing the boundaries of life and is looking for direction. The same way he tested his boundaries by running into a busy street, or hitting his sister. Perhaps someone at school had done this, and he wanted to know if it was acceptable. Kids often start smoking and doing drugs because someone at school was doing it.

If we started from the premise that Johnny is a boy until proven otherwise, wouldn’t the direction we take be toward helping Johnny accept his gender? To learn how to live within the perameters of society and go into the correct bathroom? At least give them a good start, allowing for choice when they are 18 and have enough maturity to choose.

You have to start with what IS true in order to decide what to believe is true. Truth and belief are two different concepts. There is one truth. Whether or not we choose to believe it depends on our experience and teaching in life among other things. Free will is part of the process of choosing to believe the truth.

If that foundation of what IS true is missing or lacking, all choices are deemed good. There is no wrong choice. There is only your choice. That works fine when it comes to food and clothing choices, but when what we choose will affect the people in our world, it has to be looked at more carefully. I am happy to let you believe a lie, I just don’t have to allow you to cause my world disruption because of it. If my child is screaming at me “I hate you” and having a temper tantrum, that is his choice, but I don’t have to engage in it and say it is fine. Wisdom says to separate from this display of opposition i.e. go to your room until you come to your senses. But we are afraid to do this when it comes to gender identity and sexual preference. Our society is being asked to see these alternative choices as normal.

No. Normal is not allowing a child with male genitalia to shower in a girl’s gym. What about the freedom of those girls? What about their choices to be happy they are girls?

We forget that the greatest guidance we can get is in the home before we even go to school. We honor the son or daughter, each with their own uniqueness and specialness. Each have a particular role and characteristic, and we all carry a little of male and female DNA. Remember, Adam was both at first. God didn’t create another body from dust, he created another person from Adam’s side, taking his “womb” to create the “wom-an”.  There was a reason God did that. He created man and woman to be “one”. That is what is natural and true.

Corruption and imperfection happen. Yes. We live in an imperfect world. God gives us what we need to overcome the imperfections. Lets celebrate our uniqueness and identify as God’s perfect creation, and let Him show us how to live in the imperfection. There is apparently a genetic predisposition to addiction but we don’t see society making room for addicts because they identify as such. There may be a genetic disposition to homosexuality, yet I have seen many  live out their lives in healthy marriages because they choose to embrace the way God meant them to be. And when pre-pubescent boys start to wonder about their sex drive, it is normal. But it is not meant to make them question their identity as a male. It is meant to be a learning process and a time to validate who they were created to be. Being content with who you are and were created to be makes for a life with a future and a hope. I want that for all mankind.

Please hear me. My heart bleeds for those who are confused and believing themselves to be something contradictory to what their body dictates. I feel that way about children born with missing parts, or twisted parts as well.  I want them healed and able to function normally. I pray for a restorative miracle that would restore them to the way they were created. I want them integrated into society. I want to celebrate their uniqueness and surround them with love and validation. That is healthy and Godly. And I am sorry if that has not been offered as an alternative.

At the same time, I will not stand by and watch those who feel confident and secure in their God-given gender to have to step aside from their truth in order to accomodate someone else’s idea of truth.

We are all special and deserving of that respect for who we are.  God’s love has no filter; he loves all of His creation. He was very intentional in His creation. He knew that free will would get his creation in trouble at times. That is why He made a way back to wholeness through Jesus Christ.

We are not stuck in our imperfection. There is a way out. And while we may not reach the fullness of who we were created to be this side of heaven, God is forever in heaven displaying his miraculous power to those who ask. Maybe we are not asking for the redemption we seek. Society does not hold our redemption. Only God has that power.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just as you don’t go to the doctor and find out you are pregnant out of wedlock and not be counseled on your choices.

 

 

 

 

 

Once Upon A Time….

A fairy tale for grownups…

“Once upon a time,” she began. Peg stared at the words she had just typed on her laptop screen. For goodness sakes! She thought. Who starts a story with “Once upon a time” any more? I am not writing a fairy tale. Well, maybe I should. I’ve been living one most of my life haven’t I? Waiting for the knight in shining armor to appear and take me away on his white stallion. Who am I kidding?

Unexpectedly, there was a knock on the door. Peg was leery of opening it, being all alone in a very remote area with few neighbors in a five-mile radius. She had escaped to this ranch retreat to write undisturbed, and expected no visitors.

Peg looked out the lace-draped window that faced the front door of her bungalow and was intrigued to see a rather handsome young man of about 30. He was dressed in the standard Montana fare, from his close-fitting jeans, to his red plaid shirt, topped with an Alan Jackson style Stetson pulled down over his forehead.  Parked in the driveway, dwarfing her little red Mazda was a man-sized shiny white pickup. In his muscular arms he held two bundles, one wrapped in brown paper and string, and the other a long box tied in a big red ribbon.

Curiously, she called from the window. “Who is it?”

“I have a delivery for Mrs. Johnson!”

Oh, shucks, I guess that shoots the white knight fantasy! He knows I am married.  She mentally scolded herself.  Of course you are married and to a wonderful man I might remind you!!

“One moment!” she finally responded, feeling a new flush in her cheeks.

Quickly she checked to see that she was presentable. Realizing that there could be nothing more modest than baggy sweats and sweatshirt and no makeup, Peg tucked her slowly graying hair behind her ears and opened the door.

“Mrs. Johnson?”

“Yes”, she replied, a little too sweetly. Hey you only live once!

 

“These arrived for you this morning at the ranch office and since I was headed this way, I offered to drop them off.”

“Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you.” Peg took the packages from him, placing them on the nearby table. She quickly scanned the note attached to the longer box, and was not surprised to see her husband, Dave’s, signature. Her pleasure was evident by the glowing smile that lit up her face.

Aware of the young man’s eyes on her, she looked up apologetically. “Forgive me. Do I owe you anything?”

“No, Ma’m, it’s totally my pleasure.” He turned to go, hesitated, then turned back to face her in the doorway again. Peg looked at him inquiringly.

“ I wonder, I mean, would you do me a favor?” He finally asked.

Nobody had called her “Ma’m” before, least of all anyone so handsome, and Peg again felt her cheeks warm.

“ If I can. What would it be?”

He awkwardly removed his hat and held it in his hands, looking like the classic “aw shucks” cowboy of the old westerns she often watched on TV. “Well, you see, I have worked at this ranch for a long time, and don’t remember anyone going thru this much trouble to get a package delivered. Why, it must have cost your husband a fortune to have those packages delivered this far from town. He must care a great deal about you.”

She thought of her husband and his kind and generous nature and realized the young man was right. “I guess if you put it that way, he does. What’s the favor?”

“Well, Ma’m,” He started, hesitantly. “You see, there’s this woman I care a great deal about and, well, I want to have the kind of relationship with her that you and your husband seem to have. But I don’t know how. You see, my folks died when I was young and I’ve pretty much been raised by ranch hands who don’t know much about women, if you know what I mean.” He smiled, and for just a moment she was carried back to the first time she saw Dave’s smile. It had been hard not to fall in love with him. She was sure this man’s girl friend felt the same way. “So I was wonderin’ if you could tell me, well, what’s your secret?”

 

Secret?! she thought. His question gave her pause. She looked at him, into his deep brown eyes, and saw a man of sincerity and honesty. So much like my Dave, Peg mused. God, what is this all about? Why did you bring this man here at this time and place?

Confident that he was not going to be easily put off, she invited him to have a seat on the porch.  He filled out the grandfather-sized rocker, and propped his leather cowboy boots up on the footstool, casually crossing them at the ankles. She took a seat on the porch swing, the back and forth swaying motion giving her some comfort as she reflected on her marriage to Dave.

Was there a secret to our happiness? God knows we had been through some rough times – four kids, career changes, illness, bankruptcy, two separations. Goodness, how much of this was she to share without scaring the man away!

Peg looked at her visitor, realizing she didn’t even know his name. Trying to sound like a true local, she smilingly asked, “So what’s your handle, cowboy?” He laughed at her awkward attempt at cowboy lingo. “I go by John.”

“ John, I am pleased to meet you. Just call me Peg.”

“Howdy, Peg”, he smiled.

“Well, John, I wish I had an easy answer. But the truth is, our marriage hasn’t always been what you would call happy. We struggled a great deal. We even separated twice.”

“What brought you back together?”

“The first time, it was the kids. One of them had a bout with a serious illness and we needed to be there for him. Once we got thru that, we decided to try again. The second time was after the kids were out of the house. We just looked at each other and said, “Who are you?” and at ourselves and said, “Who are we?” and decided to go find out. We just got back together last year.”

“From the look on your face when you opened that card, it must be working now.”

“Yes, it is. And I suppose everything we have been thru would be the secret to our happiness. We have learned a lot about each other and ourselves. There is only one thing I regret.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, remembering the heartbreak of the separations and the difficult temptations they had brought to the marriage.

“What’s that?”

“The times apart. There was a well-known preacher I heard on the radio once who was asked what his one piece of advice to married men would be, and his answer was two words – “Don’t leave”.  Dave and I are fortunate we got back together, and I give all the credit to God. I just wish we had had the courage to stay together through the tough times.”

John reflected on Peg’s words for a moment and then nodded a simple, “Thank you, Ma’m, I mean Peg.” As he got up to go Peg also stood up. Steadying the rocking swing, she replied warmly, “No, thank you!”

John, looking puzzled, replaced his hat on his head, and went down the stairs to his white pickup. As he opened the door and got in, he turned and waved. She couldn’t help smiling. White horse and all, she thought as she shook her head in amazement at God’s timing.

As she entered the cabin, Peg walked over to the two packages on the table. She untied the bold red ribbon around the long box and discovered within a dozen white roses, nestled in an array of baby’s breath. The note simply said, “I love you. I miss you. Your Dave.” She set them aside, making a mental note to get them into water as soon as possible. But the other package had her curiosity. She opened it to find within a book of fairy tales.  Dave had written an inscription on the inner front cover, “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Peg and a handsome prince named Dave. (smile) They traded in their white stallion for four kids and a station wagon, and lived happily ever after. But they never stopped believing in the fairy tale. Live your dreams, my sweet princess. Your prince awaits your return. All my love, Dave.”

As her eyes overwhelmed with tears, Peg looked up to the heavens, and whispered a prayer of thanks. With blurry eyes, she arranged the flowers in a vase she had found, and returned to her laptop.

“Once upon a time, there was a young man named John …” she typed.

It Gets Messy!

It Gets Messy
Adjusting your lens of your own greatness can be messy.

Transitions. Yikes. They can be messy. Remember graduating from High School? You feel all accomplished and ready to take on the world? And then you start a job, or you go to College, and zap, you are back in training wheels. Transitions are messy.

As depicted in the photo, a toddler learning to feed herself can be pretty messy. But do you see the message in the messy? The noodles around her eyes is a prophetic statement. In the middle of the mess, the little one got some new lenses and will never see the world the same again. Especially when she looks at Mommy’s face when she discovers the mess she has made.

I have grown to love messiness.  A mess means there is life being lived. A mess means something is being created. A mess means there is a message.

At home, I am probably middle of the road messy. My work area is usually pretty cluttered as I have many projects going on at once. I call it organized chaos. Each pile has a purpose and I like to know it is there in eye view as needed. Filing happens occasionally. I am good with that. It means something is happening.

A sparkling clean kitchen makes me nervous. How does one be perfectly neat while creating a cuisine that is a work of art? Fred is one of those people. He banishes everyone from the kitchen on Thanksgiving so that by the time we sit down to eat, every bit of the kitchen is sparkling. Now I am afraid to get my plate dirty, fearful it will be removed prematurely to be cleaned. A bit of an exaggeration but you know what I mean. Thanksgiving is a time of celebration, and I miss the messy times in the kitchen, bantering and enjoying making “the mess”, knowing it would get cleaned up afterwards. it was a family affair.

There is a message in our tolerance for messiness. Fred tends toward order and rules driven.  It is hard to have fun when you are always worrying about making a mess. On the other hand, his craving neatness creates order that is healthy for the young ones and eliminates unnecessary chaos.

God is both messy and orderly. I am quite certain the universe was pretty messy until He put it into order. Each creation had a place and a name. There were rules and when broken, life in the garden got messy.  He also made a big mess in the temple when he got mad at the business people selling their goods.

Maturing is messy as is immaturity. Life just is messy at times. But what a glorious message we get when the mess starts to be put in order. That playroom is  much more inviting when the kids have put away their toys. I love having a clean kitchen to start out cooking in.  While the preparation can get messy,  I always feel more satisfied when the mess returns to a place of order. And I have walked into messy homes and wondered whether it was indicative of some sort of emotional clutter or dysfunction in the soul?

We have all done our analysis of hoarders. The TV show makes me cringe whenever I watch it. I understand it is a disorder, which is exactly what I am saying. There are extremes of messiness that need to be looked at so that disorder can be returned to order, even if it is organized chaos.

I measure my mental clarity by the messiness of my environment. When I am upset or depressed, the house really does get out of order. That tells me something in my life is out of order. Similarly, if I am picking on someone about the messes they leaves behind, something in me is out of order towards them. Is that messiness a message for me to put in order or to leave alone for the sake of peace? Nagging never really puts anything or anyone back in order and it often creates a messy relationship.

Yesterday, my husband was determined to clean up our back porch where we sit in the evening. It is also the place where the trunk that holds the bird food is stored, and the ground was covered in bird seed that had spilled when fillling the feeders. You see, my husband is legally blind and clearly can’t tell he is spilling. He is in a constant state of messiness for this reason. I am always having to check my attitude whenever he walks in the house with dirt falling off his clothes onto the recently swept kitchen floors. An abundance of rugs are at the entrance for this reason. Kindness in the face of his messiness is in order.

He wanted me to get him a little hand vac to vacuum up the spilled bird seed. Upon examining the level of mess, I knew it would take more than that to clean it up. The porch needs to be cleared out and a blower brought in. The mess had progressively accelerated to include dead leaves and saw dust. Yes, quite a mess, and not a place we would be entertaining from any time soon. So that has been put off for now. You have to have the right tools to clean up your mess. Not all of it can just be swept away.

Which brings me to my point. I have messy parts of my life that need cleaning up. Specifically, my words and my attitude can make a mess of relationships. My criticism can break someone’s spirit. My failure to communicate can make one feel unvalued.

The tools for conquering these are in the word of God. Phillippians 4:8 tells us, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” And James 3:8 is a little tougher. 8 “But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God. 10 Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so.”

Our only hope is to put ourselves under the control of the one true God who knows our weaknesses and our strengths. He wants command of our lives so that we can put our messes back in order, and bless our disorder with His message of love and kindness.

 

 

 

Full Recovery or Tolerable Existence?

My journey into wholeness has not always been pretty. When I was recently told it was an elegant journey, I knew that was a prophetic utterance. I understood what the person meant.

Elegance means that you gave it your best, you fought the good fight and you rejoiced in the victories along the way. You never just did “good enough” or “pretty good.” God had placed in me the potential to be the best me I could, and that is the me I wanted to see occupy my world. Never easy, of course, but nothing worth having is easy.

I suffer from disappointment when coming across people who are willing to settle for less. Granting certain natural limitations, there is a best in each of us.

Take our health for instance. At 68, I am tempted to relax about my health, giving into my age as a proof that “stuff just happens when you get older.” Then I realize that we are created, our bodies were made, to live 120 years. That means 68 is middle aged! Somehow we have made the Social Security Adminstration the dictator of what retirement age is, and so have most Corporations who want to put out to  pasture anyone over 60.

So I seek the fountain of youth whenever possible. Is it vanity? To say I want to look good into my old age would not be a lie. I want to look in the mirror each day and like what I see. So I get my hair blonded as often as necessary because that is who I am. I like to look good, I like to wear clothes that are flattering and grow my nails so I can have shiney color on the ends of my fingers.

A couple years ago I faced fear of death right in the eye. Oh, I wasn’t literally on my death bed, but the enemy of our souls sure had me believing I was. A spirit of death had overcome me and suddenly I felt old. Doctors were telling me to take all these meds to keep me “healthy.” They all just made me sick. I was crippled from Plantar Fascitis, and found myself wearing “plain” shoes for the sake of the insoles I had to wear. I stopped caring about what I ate and my blood pressure showed it. Was it time to give in to the truth that I was just “old” and this was my inevitable life? Heck, No!

Most of it was the result of some bad thinking I had succumbed to about my age and about family issues that had surfaced. Stress was the enemy of it all. As I pursued the underlying stressors, I found my life again. Anxiety left. Blood pressure returned to normal. I found some exercises to relieve the plantar fascitis and got rid of the hundreds of dollars of shoe inserts that had done nothing. The issue was not in my feet.

As an encourager, I often want to inspire people I know to go after the best and not settle. I remind them that just a few changes in diet, or thinking, or exercise, could get them feeling their best. How many times I hear, “Oh, it’s ok, I have learned to live with it. It’s my cross to bear. God will take care of me.”
It’s truly heartbreaking. I get it. There is a place we are to come where we accept the life we have and trust that it is all in God’s hands. But God had a lot to say about that mindset and sometimes we just need to see the side of God that says, “Stand up, shake the dust off yourself, Jerusalem! Remove the bonds from your neck, Daughter Zion!” Isaiah 52:2  And how about Ezra 10:4: “Rise up; this matter is in your hands. We will support you, so take courage and do it.” 

I want to do what makes God smile over me, and shine His light, encouraging me and speaking life into me. I want to hear, “Well done!”

Now please don’t jump to that dreaded conclusion that I am preaching a performance gospel. Not even close. I am preaching a “Don’t Give Up!” gospel. We are not called to be passive in our life.  If you have any doubt, remember these words spoken by Peter, “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence”. When Jesus breathed into his disciples after His resurrection and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” He was giving them, and later, us, divine power. That’s the same power that created the universe! Failure to use this power is possibly the greatest sin we face as Christians.

Does that sound harsh? What is sin, if not missing the mark? When Christmas came around and you found that new bike under the tree, did you pass it by and choose the old one in the garage with training wheels because it was easier? I doubt it. That bike was given to you because you were capable of riding it. Eventually, you found that to be true.

I have friends who live in pain and dysfunction even knowing the solution is at their fingertips. Sometimes it is because they want the magic healing. More often it is because they really don’t know that God wants to give them more, and that He values them so much. He wants them to have the mountain bike instead of the training wheels. Both choices take work. Staying sick and giving up is a draining life. Getting on that bike and making it take you to new adventures requires some discipline and pain. The difference is, one takes life, and one gives life.

Jesus said,  “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”  Do you know the words right before that declaration? “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.

Giving up, choosing good instead of better, or better instead of best, is a choice. I choose the abundant life. Instead of medicine, anxiety and death, I choose life, peace and prosperity. How about you?

He Knows My Name

 

Jeremiah 1:5  “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you”

Do you remember the process of naming your child? If you are a parent, maybe you were one of those pouring over websites and books that gave ideas, definitions and meanings to  thousands of names. You wanted to find the one that was just right. The perfect name for this treasure that was coming into your life. You wanted it to have meaning, to give that child a legacy. I certainly did.

Or maybe you wanted to give them a name to live up to. Like Faith, Hope or Star. Sometimes we just picked up on the current Hollywood trendy name. Or a family name. You may be of the era that remembers the Johnny Cash song, “A Boy Named Sue”. Now that’s a name to live up to!

God is that intentional as well. As far back as Genesis, God carefully named His creation and made Adam a part of the process. “Whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name”. Gen 2:19 MEV

There is a story behind every name given throughout the Bible. Abram, Father of Height, became Abraham, Father of a Multitude. It was a prophetic pronouncement. Saul the persecutor of Christians became Paul, the Hero of Christians. Cephas a stone became Peter the Rock. And Jesus Son of Man became Jesus the Christ.

I was not born Angela Joy. My original birth name was given to me by my Father. He had lost his sister to a childhood disease, and named me for her. I can’t explain why, but the name never felt like home to me. My daughter complains about her name as well. Sometimes we miss the mark.

I often dreamed of what I would name myself if I could change my name. There were many on my list. Madison was cruising at the top. But the night the Lord told me my name in Heaven cinched it.

“Angela” He said. “That is what I named you when I first conceived of you. My messenger of love.”

When He whispered that to me in the wee hours of a January morning, my spirit leapt, my heart fell in love, with Angela. Joy was an easy extension, for that was truly how I felt. Full of Joy.

So I stepped into this identity, wearing it like a glove for a few weeks. Finally, I knew I wanted to change my public name as well. With both parents gone, I had no reason to hesitate.

A name really makes a difference. I feel the spirit of Angela every time I introduce myself. And now my book, He Knows My Name, will share that story and the rest of the story of how God, who knew my name before I was born, continues to show me who I am.

Our history does not define us. God does. He calls us up each day to a higher place of destiny and purpose. Listen. He is calling your name.

Watch for the completion of my new book on identity this summer!

Intimacy

In this world of technology, relationship may not seem very intimate. You can text greetings, and send emojis with smiles and hearts, but is that intimacy? Or does it contribute to intimacy? Is physical presence a necessary part of intimacy?

An Anniversary card from my husband can be full of lots of beautiful sentiments. It may give me a sense of intimacy, or a desire for intimacy with him. Does it increase my feelings of intimacy toward him? One would hope so.

What comes to  mind when you see the word “intimacy”? For most, it may be a term that makes one think of sexual intimacy. And if it makes you uneasy, it may be because we just really don’t understand what intimacy is.

Dictionary.com defines “intimacy” as:

noun, plural intimacies.
1. the state of being intimate.
2. a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship with another person or group.

3. a close association with or detailed knowledge or deep understanding of a place, subject, period of history, etc.: an intimacy with Japan.

4. an act or expression serving as a token of familiarity, affection, or the like:to allow the intimacy of using first names.

5. an amorously familiar act; liberty.
6. sexual intercourse.

7. the quality of being comfortable, warm, or familiar:the intimacy of the room.

I was not impressed with these definitions as I don’t think they go far enough to describe what I have come to understand as intimacy.
Intimacy is to know and be known by another, allowing me to be completely free to express myself safely and with all the fullness of who I am. 
In that context, how much intimacy do we really have in our relationships? How often have you had sex with your spouse and felt the intimacy I defined above? And whose responsibility is it to grow intimacy?
I believe to know and be known fully by someone with whom you have a loving relationship is the cry of our hearts. And it also brings up great fear. If you saw into me and who I really am, would you still love me? So we hesitate to reveal everything that we think is the least bit negative  or distasteful in the hopes of keeping the doors of love open.
I grew up and married into an environment that dictated that love and sex were interchangeable. If I said I loved this man, then sex was expected. He said he loved me to get sex. We enter into a physically intimate relationship, become one physically, but spiritually and emotionally are left empty. There has to be more. Because sex does not hold a relationship together. Intimacy does.
Since I had never truly experienced intimacy as I defined it above, and knew that it was exactly what I wanted, I gave up. Maybe my brokenness was such that I would never know that because there was no one I felt safe enough with to let them see the good and the bad and the ugly inside of me that made me feel competely unloveable.
And then Jesus happened.
My biggest struggle with following Jesus was that I wasn’t loveable. Or so I thought. But He didn’t care. He couldn’t see that because that wasn’t who I was. I was created loveable, and He already loved me e even before I was in my mother’s womb. And apparently there was nothing I could do to make Him stop loving me.
Now that is the firstfruit of intimacy.  To love unconditionally. that is what He does.
When loved like that, it is hard to resist loving back. And the more He proved to be true to His word that He loved me no matter what, i felt free to be real. I decided I wanted more of Him and the more I gave of me, the more I got of Him. The more I let him in, the more He showed me who He was. And we began an amazing love affair. Mutual admiration and desire to be known and to know. Now I pursuse Him and He pursues me right back.
How do you get there? You align yourself with the only one who truly knows you, because He created you and designed every intimate detail of who you are. He created you for a purpose and is deeply invested in seeing that purpose fulfilled, in spite of your poor self image. Eventually His persistence breaks through that self image and you begin to see who YOU really are, and you want Him and the rest of the world to see that person as well.
Intimacy breeds intimacy. Soon it moves beyond who you are to wanting others to know who they are. So you engage, take a risk, get vulnerable with others so that maybe they will feel safe getting vulnerable with you. And with persistence, and love, and patience, they find themselves wanting the same intimacy you have.
The best marriages happen when two people are individually intimate with the One true Lover of their souls, and in that safety, they can risk everything to be truly known by this person they are married to.  Human intimacy is imperfect, so it makes it real nice to have the arms of Jesus to fall back into when the road gets difficult. And He will prop you right back on your feet  to take the risk again. And you will. Because He is right there to catch you and pick you up again.
So no, to answer my original question, you don’t have to have physical presence to know intimacy. The Bible is full of sentimental words of love that can fill that emptiness in you. Text messages and cards to the object of your affection can’t hurt. The Bible is our love letter from God.

However, intimacy is something that needs to be experienced. And Holy Spirit makes that possible. You cannot have intimacy in your head. It belongs in your heart, and through your spirit, there is the possibility to actually feel the presence of the one who loves you, the object of your affection – Jesus.

Just remember that we were created for relationship, and the best ones are face to face, where real hugs, and real eye contact can remind you that you are a real person, and made for this kind of intimacy. Just start with Jesus.

Chosen

Oh, to be chosen. We stand in the PE class while the team captains make their decisions of who they want on the team. Our insides are screaming, “choose me, choose me”, while at the same time feeling worthless and doubtful we are good enough. We try out for cheerleader, hoping they will see our enthusiasm and talent, while at the same time not sure we really made the cut.

And then, the finger of fate points at us and we are IN, CHOSEN! You win, you get to play, YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH!

Jesus stands at the door, knocking, waiting for us to answer, to choose him back, because he first chose us. We are born already chosen. Why are we not screaming, “Yay I am chosen, I am good enough, thank you Jesus, and now I choose you!” ?

Perhaps we are stuck thinking we need to earn it. To earn being chosen. And so we simply can’t believe Jesus chose us because we didn’t do anything to deserve it. Right? So we ignore the knock on the door quite sure it is for someone else and not me.

I did that. I ignored the knock, as I was quite sure I was completely unloveable. Performance surrounded my home, and love was withdrawn if performance was bad. So if I opened that door, what would I have to do to earn and be chosen? Or would I get unchosen later when I messed up?

Even when I first discovered Jesus was calling, I was fearful he would send me to Africa on a mission trip to complete strangers where I would have to sleep on the ground and eat awful food! See, immediately, I expected performance to be part of the exchange. Sure, you are knocking and you want me to follow you, just so you can mess with me and make me something I am not sure i want to be. No thanks!

The truth is always more risky than lies. None of that was true. The enemy of our souls was trying to keep me from the one truth that would save me from ever having to perform again.

Jesus did all the performing we will ever need. He knocks on the door because He knows that in Him and Him alone all the desires of  my heart would be fulfilled. No Africa, but the children I wanted to have. No bare ground, but a home with warm beds where I could nurture those children. No strange food, but an abundance of everything I could ever have dreamed I could enjoy.

He knows the desires of your heart. He created you that way. You were chosen for this time and for this season and to be doing exactly what you are doing. The greatest proof of His choosing is that He conceived of YOU in his heart and mind before the foundations of the world, and He chooses you now to let Him be the Lord and Savior of your life.

Choose Him back. Let Him prove to you that the choice you are making will change your life forever. You will realize the best choice ever made was when he said “I choose you” and you said “Yes”.Just trust Me

Why Resurrection Sunday is my Favorite Holy Day

the fresh burst of spring is my favorite time of year. I live in an area where the hilite of spring is the Tulip Festival. As pictured above, the spring flowers are in full blossom. My favorite flower of all is the tulip, as it reflects back to my Dutch roots. The variety and texture of tulips always astounds me each time I get up close and personal with them in April.

There is a lot of symbolism around this season. Lambs and bunnies, eggs and baskets, crosses and  crowns of thorns, all describe and witness to a season of endings and new beginnings. It is not all sacred, much of the celebration is secular. And I love it all.

For three months, the ground has been frozen, holding on to the life buried beneath, just waiting for the time to begin to burst above ground. It is as if those flowers just can’t wait for the ooohs and ahhhs awaiting them.

Not unlike the burial and resurrection of Jesus that we celebrate over Easter weekend. As the winter temperatures freeze out the flowers, so did sin freeze out the life of Jesus. He took all of our sin to the cross and all of our sin was buried there with him. And three days later, we celebrate the Halleluiah of His resurrection, telling us there is hope and new life available. We no longer remember the winter for the spring has come.

New life means new hope. Eggs are new life that eventually becomes a chicken. Lamb is new life that eventually becomes a Sheep. And Jesus is the new life that represents our opportunity to become His child and grow into the fullness of what He created us to be.

What does that fullness look like? What exactly is this hope, this new life, about? And why do we celebrate it so exuberantly?

Resurrection means death did not win. Jesus did not die, and that was the end of it. Those perennials you planted didn’t die, they came back to life under the right conditions. There would be no hope for us if Jesus had not resurrected. He would have been just another man, another teacher, another disappointment. All that He had done on earth, all of the miracles and brilliant words, would have been equal to the likes of Muhammed or Buddha. One united faith would have seemed logical.

But what God did through Jesus defies logic and changes everything. We who believe in Jesus who died and rose know that we have access to something no one of any religion has. It is not a religion, it is a relationship with the one who said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one can come to the Father except through me.”

Now when I see those tulips reaching up to heaven from out of the ground, I don’t complain of the secularization of Easter. I rejoice that we can find God in every part of the holidays because He was there first. He enjoys those tulip fields too, and he would probably love hard boiled and decorated eggs. For they are a reminder of the beginning of hope.