When to say no…

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t help but think of margin these days. And ministry. Work. Good work. Not so good work. Being a Christ-follower and an employee. It’s sort of unavoidable. Mostly because I understand that I profoundly did not mind the balance between those things.

And perhaps because the season of life we’re in, I can’t help but think about dreams, too. What does it mean- to dream? to really, truly listen to that arterial song that echoes in your soul?

When it all crashed down, my beloved and I- we had dreams. Fresh out of college, and we dreamed. Four kids at the time. We were contemplating missions work. We were hearing a heart beat half way across the world.  Dreams for life. For work. For ministry. Then, the shackles of financial slavery slapped hard against the skin, chafing. Pinning us against a wall. That’s perhaps the worst part of financial misjudgement- we trade what we think will give us instantaneous pleasure (and it doesn’t) for a future of shackled slavery to a past that didn’t satisfy.

After the dark of nearly four years, we’re finding the light again. And the links in the chains of financial bondage are falling off, one by one, faster now. There’s space to breathe again. In a few short months (hallelujah!), it’ll be over. There’s space for dreaming once again. Space for ministry. Missions. Owning a home, eventually…it’s a tangible hope.

And yet.

That precarious balance.

I’ve been studying those whom I either know personally or admire. Watching how they walk the tightrope. How they mind their dreams, the balance, their family, their responsibilities. What good work looks like. What ministry looks like. I’m realizing that it’s an art of subtraction, not one of addition. Seems counterintuitive, that. But true. When they are focused on their dreams- for themselves, for their families- it’s a constant saying no in one area so that they can say yes in the area of their dreams. Even in the financial sense- saying no to small luxuries, so that extravagant God-sized things can happen later. Whatever it is. The sacrifice of the temporary now for a God-given dream in the future-tense. Not spending a lot of extra time at social things so that she can scribble in the margins at night, fill up her shelves with words. Subtract, subtract, subtract. The mama who wipes the nose, and reads the book- again- for the dream of a child full and well grown, in wisdom and in stature. Subtract.

And it comes to me again- we must mind the balance sheet. If it’s overloaded, stuffed to the gills, we can’t move in the Spirit. We can’t! There’s no where to wiggle. Worse- there’s no quiet place to hear.

Dream with me, friends. What is calling your heart? What will it mean for the balance sheet? what will have to be subtracted? What will you have to say no to so that you can say yes?

When desperation blinds you…

I want to say this, before I forget…before it slips into mist and memory…

It wasn’t the job. It was me. And I would never call into question or judge a mother who pursues employment. That is not what is at issue for me here, at this way station in seasons.

Beware desperation.

I’ve whispered of it here and there, but we’ve faced a mighty battle with debt- particularly student loans. It was precipitated by two years of unemployment. All in all, our nightmare has lasted just about three and a half years. It began not four weeks after losing our fifth child to miscarriage. I have known the darkness, the inky black night, the shadowy whispers of pain that blind.

But He promised us that He was mighty to save. And He has. And He will.  Yet- somewhere in the middle, I kept company with Sarai and Hagar, Abram and Ishmael. I lost confidence in my Lord’s will, and I thought I could fix things. And so, as Sarai sent Hagar to Abram, I sent ‘a promising email’ to my husband, a job, a work from home position. My beloved had reservations. Many. And I, in my desperation, shoved past the red flags of wisdom crying out for attention. This is not to say that some sort of employment was ahead for me, or that He had provisions waiting for us if we had trusted His timing…but I can tell you even then, we knew this job was not the wisest course of action for our family. I ignored it.

I would spend the next year and a half trying to find a balance that could not be found. I lost perspective, lost purpose- I would care for our family from dawn until dusk, and then would work from dusk near to dawn again, each precious hour of sleep and clarity slipping into the darkness, never to be retrieved. Chronic exhaustion takes its toll; depression soon became my constant handmaiden and companion.

I cannot emphasize this enough, dear friends. I don’t care what vocation you pursue, but if you sacrifice the rest our wise and gracious God has ordained for us, something is not as it should be. If it’s a constant, instead of an occasional, occurrence, check your heart-call. I have serious doubts that the Lord would call you to a task that includes such a thing. His yoke is easy. His burden is light. In Christ’s ministry, there was always a balance between rest and action. Always. If things are ridiculously hard, if you’re making decisions that are totally contrary to your heart, maybe the Lord is creating the friction to call you back to His purpose.

I speak from my life. I should have heard Him clearly when I fell so ill last year. It’s almost laughably obvious. I fell so ill quite simply because my body could not run on fumes—and yet—I would go on to work for the company for another year. A year. And I could not understand why I could not heal, why I could not get well. But I wouldn’t stop. For another year. I have paid the price. I will probably never be as healthy as I was before I began this job, unless the Lord sees fit to restore what the locusts have eaten. I will spend the rest of my life caring for my body because I nearly destroyed it in desperation.

Oh, that I were not so stubborn! The Lord needed a two by four to smack me across the back of the head, and so, late at night on a family outing to a local Christmas light show, I missed the (rather obvious) hitch point protruding from the back of my fifteen passenger van, tripped…and shattered my wrist. My right wrist, my dominant hand. I could no longer work in any capacity- I could not type. I could barely dress myself, comb my hair. And then—I finally heard Him. I submitted my resignation within days. I will always see my deformed wrist now, and think of Jacob and the angel of the Lord and Jacob’s thigh… I will bear the mark of stubbornness the rest of my days.

I beg you, dear friends, to trust in the Lord and lean on His understanding, and acknowledge Him in all your ways. Don’t ever get to the point of desperation that you feel that you must trade your heart and body. Debt is awful, but it is never worth that. It’s never worth running ahead of God. But- if you have found yourself right-tangled, as I have, know that He is might to save, and He will not forsake you. Confess, repent, and trust. The storm will still rage, perhaps even for a long time- but He will be with you.

Here I stack these stones, mark an Ebenezer. May the Lord in His grace lead me away from this place of sorrow.

To see and know…

I never would have thought it would draw to an end like this.

It marks a year, my little scribbling here today. A year since the world turned upside down and right side up and back again.

As I cuddle close Josiah, another baby rests near in my thoughts, cradled in my heart. We said goodbye just as we began to be aware of each other, and it happened so fast.

A year ago, I nearly died.

Three short weeks after that happened, my husband lost his job.

Had you asked me in those intervening days if I had thought we would be here today, I probably would have looked at you askance. I knew in my heart that God was in control, but I remember how dark and scary the way seemed.

Now I look back as I watch this year draw to a close and I see.

Miracles shine like dew drops along the path near the footsteps of the One who carried me through. Grace after grace, mercy after mercy, provision upon provision. In the face of grave uncertainty, every need has been answered and provided for. Every time we thought we were coming to the bottom, our jar was filled again.  I think of all the people along the way too, the ones who loved us, the ones who prayed, the ones who gave of their hearts in our time of need, and continue to bear our burdens with us…I stand amazed.

The blessing journal stands full of stories from this year, too many to count.

…Of health regained

…Of a heart turned towards Home

…Of the miracle of life

In the face of a messy economy and countless other trials, we never went hungry. We never lost our house. We never lost our joy. I watched others I knew lose everything, but we did not. Grace upon grace! I would never have thought that it would be twelve long months of fruitless searches as my husband tried to find a job, that even the gas stations and fast food places and retail stores would close in rapid succession like dominoes. And that he is searching still. I never would have imagined after the horror and loss of last August that I would be holding the most amazing miracle of a baby, counting his fingers and toes and kissing his sweet skin.

And here I stand at the close. What will the next twelve months, fifty two weeks, three hundred and sixty five days, bring?

All I know is this.

My God? He can do anything. He is in control. And I am His. That is all that matters. The rest is grace.

Peace and community…

What a quiet, peaceful Easter this Sunday. I confess in times past I have been so frazzled by preparations and the like that I have not really been able to slow and enter in to what Easter was all about. David woke very early Sunday morning- I think it was 4:30 am…just wide awake and babbling, and managing to rouse the other children from rest. We slipped downstairs and the other kids slipped back into slumber. That half darkness of "o dark thirty" (as my dad used to call it) tipping into sunrise- it was so beautiful and peaceful.

I enjoyed the Easter service at our church. We had what is called "Cardboard Testimonies"- on one side of the cardboard was a reality in their lives, and the back side was what the Lord had done in His mercy and grace. (Click on the link to see another church that did this, to give you an idea of what I experienced.) Different members of our church community shared- most of whom I knew in one way or another. I knew the personal testimonies of a few deeply, and still it brought tears to my eyes to see them witness to God's goodness- and others, it was such an amazing thing to see revealed how truly God had transformed lives- things you would never have imagined. By the time it was done, there were few dry eyes left in the house, I can tell you. I couldn't help but think of the wider community of believers as I watched this- stretching across both home and abroad, from tip of hemisphere to tip of hemisphere. I thought of stories I knew through blogging- stories of loss, reconciliation, restoration, triumph, brokenness, healing…what a testimony to God's amazing mercy and grace resides in the Body! Why do we not tell these stories more often, why do we not share the glory of God's movement in our lives every chance we get? I thought of my own story of this year- from loss and death of a child, from sickness into health, to the miracle of the heart beating beneath my own. Truly, we serve an amazing and gracious God. I feel so blessed to be a part of the global body of Christ. I know when I am falling, hands will reach out in prayer and fellowship to carry me, just I have reached out to them in their times of need. I was so profoundly reminded that we serve a Living, risen God, who lives and moves and breathes through His Spirit within believer's hearts. He is not dead, He is not deaf, He is not mute. He lives, He hears, He speaks. Praise be to the Gracious and Holy God!

Love is a work in progress…

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Friday came and went on this one. I started it earlier in the week, but then couldn't get back to it until the weekend. In the olden days, I would have grown discouraged and not finished, but I am really committed to trying to complete one of these each week. I am beginning to make space for this little adventure, even if it means that I'll have to stay up later taking care of the laundry or what have you- it's a sacrfice I want to make. I've been working through The Creative Call by Janice Elsheimer, and I am slowly growing used to the idea that these little attempts are a form of worship. (See link in side bar for more info on this book). I think I have often separated "art" from "life" and certainly "art" from the "spiritual journey", a sort of divided kind of thinking that I have talked about before. I think this is a disservice. I think of friends whose talents are varied and numerous: one paints with words, another with pictures, still another by painting, and so often, these are extensions not only of themselves but also a reflection of the Creator that made them. I am beginning to believe that art is not just for "art's sake" but as a way to consider the journey. The ATC this week is clearly influenced by what has been going on in my journey with Christ, but also with others within my community, and when I started this one, I knew exactly where the end result would lie. The background, which is metallic watercolors using a Heidi Swapp damask mask, is directly related to the background of the slides used in worship at church for the last six months. You can see an example here. The verse, which was both hand written and stamped, was from 1 John, which our church has been studying since September. I chose The Message version because I was so caught by "love has the run of the house" phrase…this is truly my prayer, that love would have the run of the house, both within myself and within my home, my life. As I worked on this card as I had a little snippets of time here and there, I was struck by the process. Each layer of the background had to dry before the next layer could be applied- first gold, then the mask with a custom mixed purple, then the ruby over top of it all, the careful lettering. So often I try to rush love, to push things through, to rush sanctification. But it is above all, a process, careful, considerate steps on a narrow way. I don't think I'll be able to look at this card and not think of it…this has to be one of my favorite cards so far.

Products: Lowes Cornell Watercolors (metallic ruby, metallic gold, red, blue), Heidi Swapp Damask mask, Ranger Industries Andrionack Paint Dabber (Lemonade), Elmer's Paint Pen (white), Basic Grey Rubons (bird), Pens: Sharpie (Berry), Creative Memories (Brown), ATC: Strathmore.

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