Trust Me

A few days ago I felt like God was speaking directly to my heart, two simple words: Trust me.

These words came specifically in regards to a situation that has brought me a lot of frustration. And although those instructions have been very hard to follow for me in the past (didn't I just blog about letting God have control of my life...and how unnatural that is for me?), it has been easy this time. Maybe because I heard the direction so clearly.

Then on Sunday two more simple words came to my heart: Just wait. Not as in the patience I blogged about last week. Not as in "just wait and you'll get what you want." More like when someone says, "Just wait until you see what I have planned for your birthday." Or, "Just wait until you see what I got you for Christmas." The kind of just wait that means someone has something planned for you that is so exciting for them as the giver, and will be exciting for you to receive.

So those two phrases have been running in my head since then. And it's helped me so much with patience and trust and knowing that God has a plan for me. I was thinking about Psalm 139 where it says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

And that verse coming to mind, coupled with the two phrases, has brought me to this realization: God is a better writer than me. 


I've always loved that verse in Psalm 139 because I liked that it implies God is a writer. I could identify with that. But it was only yesterday that it hit me that he's a better writer than I am. It should've been obvious, perhaps, but I guess I just didn't think about it.

All my hopes and plans and daydreams are nothing compared to what God wrote in his book before one of my days came to be. I don't know what he has written. But I'm pretty sure he's excited to show me, in his time. And I'm excited to see, in his time. Because I know it's so much better than anything I've written in my head.

Just wait.

In the Midst

Yesterday I had lunch with someone who wanted to know my story of how I got to my current place of employment. I'm sure I've blogged about this before, but if so, it's been a while. And rehashing the story just reminded me how God is so present even when he doesn't seem to be.

I was at my previous employer for a little over three years. My role was primarily curriculum development, and I also led the teen helper ministry, which was a huge passion of mine. I also was in charge of conferences—not something I enjoyed.

So in March of 2008 when I learned that I would be in charge of the nursery (I can't stand babies) and losing the teen helper ministry, as well as reducing the amount of time I had to spend on curriculum development...I was crushed. Even though I also lost the conferences, which was a bright spot of the change, I was devastated to lose the teen helpers and gain a bunch of babies.

This began a very dark time in my life. I started my new position that May, and I was miserable. I quickly began to feel depressed. I couldn't sleep at night. I would regularly have to leave my desk, go to my secret hideaway at work, and curl up in a ball to cry. And I was very, very angry at God for doing this to me.

But here's the thing. I'd applied for other jobs, including one where I currently work, during my time at my old job. And while I hadn't even gotten as far as an interview in any of them, applying at those jobs made me think, "Could I really do that? Could I really leave the teen helper ministry?" I loved those teens, and letting go of that would've been really hard to justify.

So God just took it away from me. I didn't have to decide to let go, it was gone. Although that made me really angry, I can see now that he was loosening me up to prepare me for the next stage of my life. And because I had months to transition the ministry to new leadership, rather than a couple weeks, I was able to do so much more thoroughly.

As for the nursery? I'm so glad I didn't have to be there any longer than a couple months. (I put in my notice to go part time and only do curriculum about a month and a half into the nursery job.) But I did learn some things in my short time there that have applied to my current role. Even in a job that was a total square-peg-in-round-hole fit for me, God was teaching me, shaping me.

I said to my lunch buddy yesterday, "It was one of those things where I couldn't see God in the midst of it, but looking back he had such a great plan." And it's true. Everything that happened in 2008 was necessary for me to transition well to a new place in life.

When life seems dark and we don't know what on earth God is up to, he's still in the midst of it. He's probably doing something absolutely amazing, if you can just hold on.

Peace

I wrote my last blog, patience, during the commercial breaks of The Bachelorette. I've always known on some level it's a ridiculous show, but it's my guilty pleasure.

So on Monday I wrote my blog on patience, posted it, and returned my attention to the show. And suddenly I was struck with a fresh realization: This show is so stupid. 


Now let me be clear upfront: I'm still going to watch it. But in that moment I decided that I'd like Emily to pick my least favorite of the remaining guys. Because no matter who she picks, they'll probably break up in a few months, and I'll be far less disappointed then if she picks a guy I don't like now. I realized just how frivolous the whole thing is.

And despite my dad's opinion that the whole thing is done with paid actors and it's all fake, I don't think he's right. There are real human emotions at play, in my opinion. So I'm watching Emily bawl her eyes out over having to send someone home, and realizing that she's probably just picking someone to spend the next few months with, not the rest of her life, and I just had this big picture perspective of how silly it all was.

And then I thought, if I could take a step back from my life and see the big picture, maybe I'd see how silly I'm being sometimes. Not that it's bad to feel things or that we should shove down our emotions. But I let the dumbest things eat me up sometimes.

Like yesterday I was waiting to turn right out of the McDonald's parking lot, and someone else was turning right into the parking lot, only they weren't signaling so I didn't know I could turn, so I was waiting for them until I realized they were turning, only by then there was another car coming so I had to wait more. Anyway...this car that failed to signal honked at me as it turned in. SHE honked at ME? What did I do to deserve that? I was really ticked off until I remembered what the pastor said about not letting the little frustrations get to you, and about patience. Oopsies.

So it's dumb stuff like that. But even bigger picture...it's OK to feel, healthy to know your emotions, but when you let those feelings and worries consume you, that's not OK. And I do that, too. But if I could take a step back and see my life like I finally saw The Bachelorette on Monday, I'd probably roll with the punches a lot easier.

So I think it was a combination of those realizations and the discoveries I made as I wrote my blog on patience that gave me this overwhelming sense of peace. I've never experienced something quite like this before. I just turned off the TV when the show was over, went upstairs to get ready for bed, and felt this wave of peace sweep over me in regards to something I'd been letting consume me. And I wasn't even thinking about the thing then, just kinda brushing my teeth and such and this peace hit me. And it hasn't left! This peace is such a wonderful thing, and guess what it's helping bring with it: patience!

Patience

We've been going over the fruits of the Spirit in church for the past little bit. Three weeks ago was peace, which I missed. But that's OK. The one I really knew I needed more than any other was patience.

So I eagerly went to church two weeks ago, ready to hear about patience. And it turned out to be a missions Sunday, no sermon. So I thought, "Aww man, I have to wait to hear about patience!" Then last week I went and it was a 4th of July sermon. No patience. Again, I couldn't stand waiting. But I guess the pastor was (unintentionally) making me be patient for the sermon on patience.

So finally, yesterday, the day arrived. The sermon I'd waited impatiently for as proof that I needed to hear it. Here are some things that stuck out to me.

First of all, one of the ways he defined patience was "a calm assurance based on the certainty that God is in control." This really struck me because I thought, If patience is trusting that God is in control, maybe my impatience is rooted in trying to maintain control. And of course I can't have assurance with myself in control...I know I'll fail! I need to grow in trusting God and giving him control. I need to rely on this so much more.

The thing with the fruits of the Spirit is that they aren't really things you can push yourself to grow in. They aren't commands we're to strive to obey. They're fruits. Fruit just grows. If we're rooted in the Holy Spirit, the fruits grow. So my lack of patience demonstrates that I'm not abiding in Christ the way I need to. It all comes back to a lack of trust and letting him have the control that he really has anyway.

Here's the other thing that stuck out to me: Romans 5:3-5. Because sometimes I feel like one of the hardest thing about patience is uncertainty. How can you be patient for something you want or hope for when you don't know if you'll ever even get it? What if you're being patient for nothing? I actually wrote something along these lines in my sermon journal before the sermon started.

So when the pastor read Romans 5:3-5, I realized that patience yields good things even if we don't get what we're waiting for. Troubles produce patience, which produces character, which produces hope. I want a strong character. I want to be full of hope. So if I wait patiently for something I never attain, I still come out a winner.

Rejection

I've had my fair share of rejection in my life. Maybe because I've always been so bluntly honest. (My name does mean Truthful.) Whenever I liked a guy, I always ended up telling him, usually to find out that he just saw me as a "sister." And despite the fact that a couple of these guys even said things like "any guy would be nuts not to like you," I guess they identified themselves as nuts...because they didn't reciprocate my feelings.

But this never really got me down longterm. Of course, the sister line was heartbreaking in the moment, but it never made me feel more guarded in the future. My policy has always been to just be honest. If nothing else, it alleviates the game playing, the wondering, the ambiguity. Even the rejection provided a closure for me, a chance to know "nope, this isn't happening, so I can start to get over this now."

But things are different now. I realized recently that I'm much more guarded than I used to be. The rejection of the end of a marriage is far different than telling the guy who sits next to you in chapel that you're into him and having him say he's not into you. Even though in the case of my marriage, I was ready for it to be over, whereas with chapel-guy I didn't want to hear his rejection...it's still somehow harder this time.

Because when I got married I thought that was it. I was playing for keeps. This wasn't something that would end in rejection. This was for life. Or so I thought. To know that even my supposed life-long relationship ended in rejection left me a little more guarded. A little more jaded. A little more hopeless. Could I ever find a guy who likes me for me...even when the butterflies fade? (And yes, Bachelor and Bachelorette contestants, butterflies fade. Sorry to be the one to burst your bubble. No one lives happily ever after all the time.)

Most of this post-marriage period has been so good for me. So healing. Such a wonderful journey of empowerment and self-discovery. A journey toward a wholeness that I never had before. But then there's this part. This part that leaves me a little paralyzed, a little more fearful. A little less honest-ol'-Ali and a little more reserved, guarded Ali. It's a wound that may never fully heal.

But this is where I've been relishing: Ephesians 1 says that God chose me. In love he predestined me to be adopted. And get this—not just for my sake but for his pleasure. God delighted in me so much that he wanted to choose me. There will never be any rejection from God, of that I can be sure.

The End

Here's something that's captured my attention: John 11:4. Upon hearing that his friend Lazarus is sick, Jesus tells his disciples, "This sickness will not end in death."

The key word being end. Because it does result in death, for a few days.

And most of the time, death is the end. So what the disciples understood, then, was probably more like, "Lazarus won't die." You've got to wonder what the disciples thought, then, when Jesus later tells then Lazarus is dead. What did that do to their faith? Did they think he was a fraud? Did they think he just didn't really know what was going to happen? He told them he was going there to wake Lazarus up, but the sleeping metaphor had already confused them. And Thomas said they should go die with him...so perhaps they just thought death was a metaphor. But what about when they got to Bethany and found out he really was dead? What was going on in their heads?

Well, we just don't know. But I can tell you that trials much less final than death often feel like the end of the world to me. So often I lose sight of hope, of the future, of God's promises. So often I don't see how they could possibly be true. How could it possibly be true that Lazarus' sickness wouldn't end in death, when here he was, dead? How could it be that God is with me when sometimes, I just don't feel like he is? How can God really be victorious over Satan when sometimes his temptations reign so strongly in my life? How can God make the impossible possible when it really feels like the end of the story?

Lazarus' story reminds us that sometimes, what we think is the end is only the middle of the story. And the real end? Just what I recently reflected on in Philippians 3: "Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, Christ Jesus our Lord."

This trial, this struggle, this temptation: it's not the end. It's just the middle of a story with a fabulous, glorious ending, already written by the God of impossibilities.

Finishing Well

Lately I've been thinking about finishing well in the faith. I spent June reflecting on Philippians 3 and things like this stuck out to me: "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so somehow to attain the resurrection from the dead."

And this one: "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

And then I launched into Ephesians yesterday and was struck by the fact that God has given me "every spiritual blessing."

After reflecting on that one, I kept thinking of the song "Give Me Jesus" by Fernando Ortega. I downloaded it and have been listening to it a lot.

So often my mind is consumed by "earthly things" as Philippians 3 calls them. But when it comes down to it, Jesus is every spiritual blessing I need. I am so complete in him. I just want to run toward him, to know him, to "gain Christ and be found in him." To be more like him. To reflect him to everyone around me.

I don't mean to sound cheesy. I'm just more in love with Jesus than ever. The leader of my DivorceCare group talked about how post-divorce was such a rich, sweet time for her faith...and that is so true for me, too.

Tonight I was listening to "Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)" by Chris Rice, and aside from the contradiction in the title (I never understood how he can call it untitled and then put a title in parentheses), I was near tears as he sang the last verse:

And with your final heartbeat

Kiss the world goodbye,

And go in peace, and laugh on glory's side

And fly to Jesus

Fly to Jesus

Fly to Jesus and live

It made me think of this assignment I had in college to write a biography about a Christian role model. The rule was they had to be dead or "close to dead" so that we knew they finished well.

This made me think about Asa (I know, my mind is quite the path to follow), a king in the Bible (1 Kings 15; 2 Chronicles 14) who loved and honored God almost his whole life. The Bible says his heart was "fully committed to the Lord all his life."

Except then in the 36th year of his reign, a battle is looming and he makes a treaty with another king instead of relying on God. In his 39th year he falls ill and the Bible says he did not seek help from the Lord, but only from his physicians. Two years later, he was dead. A lifetime of following God. 5 years of turning aside, and that's how he went out. Asa didn't finish well.

But someday on my deathbed, whether that's tomorrow or in 70 years, I want to be singing "Just give me Jesus." I want to fly to Jesus. I want to always be as in love with him as I am right this moment. And in between now and then, I don't want to let anything distract me from loving and honoring him.