Perspective

The story of Peter walking on water (Matthew 14:22-33) is one of my favorites, because every time I read it I see things in a different way. One thing that struck me recently was Peter’s focus and perspective.

When he gets out of the boat, it’s already windy. There’s already waves. But he walks confidently toward Jesus.

When he gets scared, it’s after he’d already started walking. He’d already seen what focusing on Jesus could do. But he lost perspective.

I’ve seen what Jesus can do in my life, too. But like Peter, sometimes I get distracted by the problems and fears surrounding me. And I need to remember that problems and nothing when I focus on Jesus.

He’s given me all the power I need. And he’s already shown me what can happen when I keep my perspective on the power, rather than the problems.

One

I've been reading Ephesians in my slow, reflective fashion since July. I often read the Bible through a very self-focused lens. But with Ephesians, you really can't do that. It is so much about the Church.

Chapters 2 and 3 outline four key goals of the church. (At least, the way I read it.) These are amazing things we can accomplish as the body of Christ.

Goal 1: Put hostility to death

Reading Ephesians 2:16 on its own might lend itself to self-focus. But in context, Paul is writing about the former barrier between Jews and Gentiles. Jesus died to put to make these two groups into one new one: the Church. And he has used this new, united body to put to death hostility. Sadly, this is not something the church is known for. (More on that here.) But what an incredible calling!

Goal 2: Be a dwelling in which God lives

I love this one, from Ephesians 2:21-22. With Christ as our cornerstone, God is building us together to be his holy temple. You see, I've always subscribed to the idea that as individuals, Christians are God's temples. 1 Corinthians 6 talks about this. But here in Ephesians the idea is taken further. In our unity, we are being built into a dwelling for God's Spirit. What an honor!

Goal 3: Make known the manifold wisdom of God

Ephesians 3:10 specifically states that God's intent was to reveal this wisdom through the Church. Wow! All the rulers and authorities - not just on earth, but this verse says in the heavenly realms - will see God's wisdom through the Church. Did you catch that? We're not just a glimpse of God to this world. At its best, the Church is showing the heavenly authorities something about God that they can't see otherwise. Our reach is farther than we think!

Goal 4: Bring God glory

Ephesians 3:21 concludes a prayer for the Ephesians by bringing glory to God "in the church." The Westminister Catechism says that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. But it's not just man. The Church itself can be a praise offering, a way to bring glory to God.

Why does the church often fall short of these four goals? Well for one thing, it's made up of imperfect people like me. But Ephesians 4:3-6 talks about unity and notes that there is one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father.

I feel like if Paul were writing a letter to the American church, rather than the one in Ephesus, he would include something along these lines. Maybe expound upon it. With the most conservative estimates for number of protestant denominations being around 20,000, we've sure learned to focus on the differences. (Bonus if you can name all 20,000.)  In our church's pastoral search it came up that one candidate didn't believe in a literal seven day creation. One woman at our church strongly declared that she didn't know how he could call himself a Christian if he didn't believe in a literal seven day creation. That's certainly not focusing on the essentials!

But unity happens when we focus on the essentials. And when unity happens, these four goals will fall into place. Hostility fades away, and we join beautifully together as a temple that shines God's wisdom even into the heavenly realms, bringing him glory.

Worship

I've been teaching myself how to play guitar for the past couple months. I actually bought this cheap Walmart guitar like 6 years ago, and learned a few chords, but hadn't played it much since the initial purchase.

I'm pretty bad. If you listened to me playing, you'd probably want to smash the guitar. I take a while to change chords (although I'm getting faster!), I sometimes hit the chord wrong, and I have absolutely no sense of rhythm...which, it turns out, is pretty important for playing the guitar well. I feel like the first two flaws could improve over time, but the third probably means I'm not destined to start a band.

But that's OK, because I don't want to start a band. Despite how terrible my guitar playing may sound to human ears, I know it's a joyful noise unto the Lord. There's something so wonderful to me about being able not just to sing (which is also pretty bad), but to make music to worship God.

When I play guitar, I get lost in it. Time goes by so quickly until suddenly I realize I've been playing for quite some time. Turning page after page in my "easy worship songs" guitar chords books, singing and playing to celebrate the greatness of God.

Working on learning to play guitar has been a part of my 2012 goal to rediscover who I am in Christ, and who God made me to be. And even though it's clear he didn't make me to be a wonderful guitarist, that's OK. He made me with a heart to make music for him in the privacy of my guest room. I don't have to be good at it—if I enjoy it and do it unto the Lord, that's what matters.

The same goes for swimming. And running. And yoga. I'll never be an Olympic swimmer. I can barely swim two laps without pausing to catch my breath. I've been running for about a year now and still have to take a couple walking breaks on my mere 1.5 miles route. And after 5 months of yoga, I still can't touch my toes. I watch other people in the class move their bodies in ways I can't imagine will ever be possible for me.

But my mediocrity doesn't bother me in the least. All of these things are ways I connect with God. All of these activities are ways I honor him with my heart and my body. And all of these things are things I enjoy doing, because that's how God made me. I think this is what worship is all about. Doing the things you love to do, for the glory of God and to connect with him. And no matter how mediocre or just plain lousy you are at those things, it's beautiful when he sees you doing what he made you to love doing.

Made Alive

When I was a kid, a car ran into our yard overnight and crashed into a small tree we had in the front yard. The trunk of the tree was only a few inches in diameter, so it snapped right in half, only connected by a small piece of bark on one side.

To my recollection, we never figured out who the driver (presumably a drunk one) was. We just woke up to see the tire tracks across our lawn and our broken tree. (Although since I did have my own private eye detective agency at the time, I dutifully measured the tire tracks and looked for other clues.)

Many would've declared the tree dead. Dug up the roots and planted a new one. But not my mom. She got this special tree tape and wrapped it up back together like an ace bandage on a sprained wrist. (Well, really more like an ace bandage on a severed leg...) Then she tied 3 ropes to the upper part of the broken tree and rooted them to the ground for stability.

It took a while, but eventually the ropes could go. And then one day, the tape could go, too. The tree had grown back together. Although it seemed like any hope for life had been taken by that mystery drunk driver, my mom put in the work needed to make life prevail. And for the near 20 years that have followed, the tree has thrived.

I was reminded of this tree when I read Ephesians 2:1-5 last week. It talks about how we were dead in our sins. But God, because of his great love, "made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions."

When it seemed like hope was gone, like we were dead beyond dead, God found a way to bring us life. This resurrected tree at my parents' house has become a beautiful picture of the life God gave us when he sent Jesus to die on another tree.

Looking at the tree today, you'd never know it had nearly died. The tire tracks in the grass have long since grown out and been mowed over, and the tree looks just like its matching one across the driveway.

This is my challenge. I am alive in Christ. I know that he rescued me from death. But the question is, do I stand firm as one who has been made alive? Or when people look at me, can they see a little bit of death still in me? A crack in the bark here, a dead leaf there?

We're alive! Let's show the world what new life looks like!

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.

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.

Individualized Faith

I've blogged before about how I think Jeremiah 29:11 is overused and more importantly, mis-used. And one thing I didn't really get into in that blog that is a common misuse of a lot of verses is the way we individualize things.

Over and over the church is addressed as a body. It begins in the Old Testament with the covenant with the nation of Israel. It continues with Jesus' teachings to the masses. And Paul's letters are mostly written to entire church bodies, rather than individuals. If the English language had a differentiation between the singular and plural "you," we'd probably recognize this more easily.

But there's only one form of "you," so we easily take verses like Jeremiah 29:11 personally, as if each of us is the only one that matters. A verse that was meant to bring ultimate hope to a nation is used to say God is going to give us as individuals hope and a future. But what we don't consider is that for most of the people who heard that message from Jeremiah, there was no personal hope, no personal future other than being in exile. 70 more years, they had in store. Which meant most of them died before this "hope and a future" ever came to light. But that was OK. Because it wasn't about some individual 40 year-old guy who'd die a captive. It was about God's redemptive plan for his people.

The patriarchs got it. Hebrews 11 lists men and women of faith and says in verse 13: "All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth."

They obeyed God because they knew it wasn't about them. God's promises to them weren't about what they as individuals would get. It was about God's grand plan for the world. Later in Hebrews 11:39-40, it says, "These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.  God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect."

It's not about you. It's not about me. It's not even about the church body that exists today. It's about everyone who calls God their Father, those who have passed on and those who will succeed us.

It's not that faith isn't personal. It is. I'm so thankful that I can come before God as an individual, with all of my weaknesses and baggage that I don't want anyone else to see.

It's just that there's so much more to it than that. Limiting our view of God's plan to just our own lives is like watching one minute of the Star Wars movies and thinking you've seen the whole thing. (Confession: I did fall asleep numerous times so I can't say I've seen the whole thing. But, it being an iconic and well-loved series, I thought it was an apt metaphor.)

Now I don't mean to come across as condescending. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I am thinking only of myself at least 90% of the time. When I read the Bible, or just in general, it's all about me. But I think that's a problem.

I've also been guilty of complaining about the church. (Though I've also said nice things about the body of Christ.) And with the viral video "Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus," fuel has only been added the fire of this anti-church yet pro-Jesus subculture. Believe me, I've been there. But recently some lyrics in the song "The Church" by Derek Webb really struck me.

'Cause I haven't come for only you

But for my people to pursue

And you cannot care for me

With no regard for her

If you love me you must love the church

Jesus helped individuals. He took care of individual needs like restoring sight to the blind or making the lame walk. And he still does that. But his message of love wasn't just for one person. It's often said that, "If you were the only sinner in the world, Jesus still would've died for you." And maybe that's true. Maybe he would've. But the fact is, I'm not the only sinner in the world. Jesus died for a lot of people. Everyone, as it turns out.

And if I'm really capturing the beat of my heart, I'm recognizing that faith isn't about ME. It's about his great love for the whole world. And if I get to be a part of that plan, that's amazing! Because what we are capable of doing for God is infinitely greater than what you+you+you+me are capable of doing for God on our own.

God In A Box

“As for an idol, a craftsman casts it, and a goldsmith overlays it with gold and fashions silver chains for it. A man too poor to present such an offering looks for wood that will not rot. He looks for a skilled craftsman to set up an idol that will not topple.” – Isaiah 40:19-20

These verses come right after several verses that talk about God’s amazing power, his unfathomable wisdom, and how small everything—even whole nations—are to him.

And then in stark contrast, we see what an idol has to offer: a sense of us being in control. Not only do human hands have to fashion the idol, but it’s up to us to determine the idols survival. If we don’t select the right wood or balance the idol, it will rot or topple.

You don’t see a lot of literal idols today, at least not in America. I don’t know anyone who’s ever commissioned a statue to worship. But I do think we crave this same sense of control.

In the verses preceding these, we’re made to feel small. Almost insignificant. With an idol, we wouldn’t feel small at all. We’re in control. Sometimes we don’t want a god beyond our control and understanding. Even if we don’t cast a golden idol today, I think we sometimes limit our declarations of who God is and what he can do, putting him a box so we don’t feel as small and powerless.

But God is infinitely more powerful than us. Even when verses 15 and 17 talk about “all the nations,” it describes them as “worthless” and “less than nothing” in comparison to God. Think about all the power represented by the leaders of all the nations. All of them. And it’s less than nothing in God’s eyes. That’s how big he is. That’s how powerful he is.

And he won’t fit in the cast I’ve made in my mind to contain him so I can feel a sense of control.

Even If He Does Not

"If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” - Daniel 3:17-18

I feel like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are one of the greatest examples of faith in the Bible. Not just because they stood up instead of bowing to Nebuchadnezzar's statue, but because of what they said in these verses. To me, this attitude epitomizes faith.

Faith is recognizing what God is able to do in the midst of our problems. That his power over any circumstance in our life is so great, we have nothing to fear. Not even death by fire.

Faith is also committing to serve and obey God alone even if you don't see him exercise that power.

It is tempting to stop at the first kind of faith. And if God doesn't respond with his power, we question our faith. We ask, "Why should I have faith in God when he isn't there for me?"

Rack, Shack, and Benny established from the moment their problems started that there was a chance God wouldn't solve them, despite his ability to. Their faith stood the test when they decided to honor him no matter what.

What's going on in your life? How confident are you that God can show power over that problem? And are you willing to stand up, "even if he does not"?

Step-by-step

Today I climbed Grey Rock with Peanut. Well, most of Grey Rock. I confess that I didn't make it quite all the way up. I was darn close, but the sky was getting gray and the wind was getting strong, and I was concerned about the unblocked wind on the summit and its effects my little 10-pound companion. Plus I was tired. (I'd say dog-tired, but Peanut was trucking along no problem from start to finish...)

Dan and I climbed Grey Rock once. We thought we made it to the summit, so we had a snack and turned around. Then when we got back down and saw the map, we thought there was just a little more and we hadn't quite made it. So I was using that as a guide of how long today's hike would take. Just a little longer.

Wrong. Turns out the trail we were hiking takes you up to a high point of one section of the mountain, then back down, through a meadow, and up the real peak. So what we thought was the second trail joining up with the first was actually the descent to the meadow. Oopsies.

All this to say, today's hike took a lot more time and energy than I expected. And when I got to the part where I decided to turn around, I was wishing for a helicopter to come whisk me back to my red armchair. I thought I'd be done around 2; I turned around at 1:50. So I was ready to be done but had a long descent in front of me.

For a while all I could think about was being in my red chair. But that was depressing me, so I thought about the milestones ahead. Reaching my car. And when that got depressing, reaching the point where the two paths split. But ultimately my problem was that I kept trying to guess how far along the path I was. Was I half way yet? And since I had no pedometer or altimeter or any other-meter device to tell me that, it was frustrating when I'd realize time was passing and I hadn't reached any of my milestones yet. And my legs were sore, my back was tired, and my toes felt like they were swollen and bleeding (they weren't). And I had to pee a little bit.

That's when I decided to change my focus. I decided to just keep thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. Because if I did that enough, I'd eventually get to my milestones and be in my red chair. But in the mean time, I'd enjoy the journey more. And it worked! The hike from there was less painful and just easier.

That's what faith is about. So often I try to write my own story. I focus on my next major milestone or where I want to end up, and try to think about how soon it might come. But sometimes I need to slow down, enjoy the journey, and just focus on taking the next step. Because as clueless as I was to how far I was on that path, I'm even more clueless when it comes to my future. I don't even know what the milestones will be, much less when they'll happen.

That's the summit, or pretty close to it. I didn't zoom or anything. I was so close!!

Giving It Up

Here's a journal I wrote last January 13th, just four days before the layoffs at work. You see, we all knew they were coming, though I for one didn't anticipate the extent. But I did fear my own job security. And some emailed questions I'd been asked about my workload had me even more on the edge of my seat. Here's what I wrote in my journal:

This has all been weighing on my mind a lot. And it still is—but I've given it to God. I prayed about it the other day and I was praying about what happened at [my old job] and how I got so mad at God when all that happened. And I can look back at all that now and see how it had to be that way. He had to loosen me up in order to move me where he wanted me to be. So no matter what happens with this email (and maybe it's nothing), I want to trust in God's plan and his faithfulness.


Well I kept my job, but it wasn't easy saying goodbye many beloved co-workers. It wasn't an easy transition. And the other pitfalls of 2011 (not work-related) could've all driven me to that place of anger with God. But I think the reason my faith was strengthened, not weakened, throughout everything, was because I had committed it to him. I resolved before the bad things even started to trust God, even if I couldn't see the end.

That's how I want to continue to live. That's how I want to face anything 2012 throws my way. Anything the next however many years on this earth throw my way.

Do Something

I'm reading James right now. It's challenging because it's very much about faith in action. It puts it pretty simply: "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says" (James 1:22). I prefer to just think about God and blog about faith. But actually helping the orphans and widows? That takes a lot more effort.

I've also been thinking about a missions trip I went on in high school. I went with my youth group, and one of the nice things was that I needed community service hours for a class I was taking in school, so I got to use those hours. But I needed photos of me there.

During the day we dug ditches and painted houses and such. And in the evenings we helped run a VBS for the kids on the Apache reservation we were staying at. I remember the first night of VBS, I was awkwardly talking to a kid here and there, but mostly just watching what was going on, taking some pictures of my own, and worrying because the youth pastor wasn't taking any pictures of me, even though he knew I needed them for school. I was pretty pre-occupied with the fact that I needed photo evidence, so I was watching and waiting for him to take some pictures.

Finally I said to him, "Rick, why aren't you taking pictures of me?"

He responded, "You gotta get out there and do something worth taking pictures of!"

That's when I realized I was so focused on getting credit for serving that I wasn't actually serving. So I jumped in and helped with the crafts. And I chased some kids around. And you know what? Rick took some pictures once I started actually serving. And I didn't even notice him taking them.

I think this is a great picture of the way humans tend to behave. We want credit. We want glory. So we talk a good game about our faith, or about our efforts, but what we're really doing is sitting on the sidelines waiting for the credit. Real faith happens when we get out there and do something worth taking pictures of - credit or not.

Renovation

There is a four-plex down the street that I run past every day. In the past month, they've been doing a lot of renovation. New roof, new siding, new windows, new doors, new trim. Fixing up the landscaping. It's been a big project, and it's been neat to watch the progress.

And then one day I saw a rusted old sink being thrown into a dumpster. And the next day, some dumpy cabinets. And I realized, they weren't just renovating the outer shell of this place. They were fixing up the inside, too.

This is exactly what I've been trying to do with my own life. I've been running for my health and to maintain my figure. But that's all exterior. The real work I want done is ripping out the rusty sinks and dumpy cabinets of my heart. That's why I've also been praying while I run, and spending time in God's Word each day. It had been far too long, and I needed a renovation.

I love this picture that we are a whole package. Beauty is more than skin deep, but our health is important too. By renovating both inside and out, we can be a more whole person.

Christians

I've been thinking about the kind of Christians that I admire and want to be like, and the kind of Christians that make me embarrassed to call myself a Christian. Because I do want to grow in my faith - but I want to grow more Christ-like, which isn't always more "Christian."

The Christians that make me embarrassed are known for what they are against, like homosexuality or abortion. They picket and are loud-mouthed about their opinions.
The Christians I admire are known for radiating love and care to everyone around them.

The Christians that make me embarrassed stand on street corners and hand out tracks awkwardly, making others feel uncomfortable.
The Christians I admire overflow with Jesus naturally, so that conversations about faith just happen because of their lifestyle.

The Christians that embarrass me always have a cheesy cliche handy.
The Christians I admire respond to everything in humble, authentic prayer.

The Christians that embarrass me reek of phoniness.
The Christians I admire leave no doubt of the sincerity of their faith.

The Christians that embarrass me mindlessly echo things they've heard or read about faith, without thinking for themselves.
The Christians I admire have their own faith journey stories and insights to share.

The Christians that embarrass me get preachy when people do things like swear or drink beer.
The Christians I admire love and accept everyone.

The Christians that embarrass me do all kinds of Christian activities so it's obvious they're a Christian.
The Christians I admire are just obviously Christian.

The Christians that embarrass me do a lot of talking.
The Christians I admire do a lot of asking and listening.

What contrasts would you add to this list?

Perseverance

"And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith." - Hebrews 12:1-2

As I mentioned in my blog "Rhythm", I've been running daily lately. But when I say running, I really mean alternating between running and walking. Before my new rhythm, I used to run here and there, pretty sporadically, so I kinda reached a running-to-walking ratio that I got stuck at. Probably about 70% running, 30% walking. I had my designated spots to switch from one to the other.

Now, I'm only going 1.5 miles. So to some of my avid running friends, that might seem like an easy run. But I've always been more of a 30-yard-dash kind of person, without the stamina to run long distances. And 1.5 miles is long to me.

So now that I've been running/walking that same route daily for over a week, I decided to try gradually stepping it up. I've added a cool-down walk around my block (increasing the mileage from 1.25 to 1.5), but I'm working towards running straight through the rest of it. No walking breaks. (Peanut will be thrilled. She hates when I stop to walk.)

I've gotten to probably about 90% running, 10% walking (not counting that final cool down). Two walking breaks, each less than a block. But man, I've been struggling to keep running on those long paths in between breaks.

Yesterday as I pushed myself to keep going, the verse above came into my head. Along with Philippians 3:14, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

And I thought about whether or not I put the same effort into pressing on toward Christ and running the race with my eyes fixed on him. (And as luck would have it, thinking about these things totally distracted me from the difficulty of the run.) I prayed that God would give me the same determination to fix my eyes on him and press on toward his goal that I have to run 1.25 miles without any walking breaks.

Steady

I recently posted about my experience with See You at the Pole in high school. And before I posted that, I was talking with someone at work about the persecution we went through in those days. She was particularly struck by the fact that people stoned us.

"How did you stand firm in your faith in that kind of environment?" she asked.

"Well, I'm kind of a go-against-the-crowd kind of person," I replied. "I found it a lot easier to stand firm in my faith there than I did at Wheaton, where everyone was a Christian. In high school there was no wishy-washy faith. You were either all in, or all out."

Ever since I graduated, I've spent most of my time in all-Christian environments. Christian college. Working at a church. Working for a Christian company. And it's definitely put my faith to the test. Some people wonder if they're strong enough to hold their ground in faith when they face opposition. I've had to see if I'm strong enough to hold my ground in faith when there's not opposition. When I don't need to stand out and shine Jesus' love, because everyone around me is at least presumed to be a Christian. (And within a few months of being in that infamous Wheaton bubble, I found it really hard to even talk to someone who wasn't a Christian.)

They say the church is thriving in countries where Christianity is taboo. And the church is dying in this "freedom of religion" country. I think it's because being a Christian in a persecuted environment makes you really think about what you're doing, and whether it's worth it. You can't just say you're a Christian or go through the motions and not really be one—because that's definitely not worth the risk, whether it's being stoned at a school flagpole or being put to death.

My Life and Lesser Catastrophes

I just finished reading a memoir...I think the first memoir I've actually completed. I've never been much for memoirs.

I picked up this one because it was by one of the authors I've worked with, Christina Schofield, so she sent me a free copy. But once I started reading I found it hard to stop.

Since the writing I've had Christina do has been curriculum instructions, I hadn't gotten a glimpse of the elegance with which she tells a story. But man, is it amazing. She tells of her tragedy in such an authentic, captivating way. With light-hearted moments of laughter sprinkled in.

And even though I've never experienced anything like the tragedy she has (her husband becoming a quadriplegic after a motorcycle accident), I found so much of what she said strangely relateable. Because that's just how she wrote it. I think that's always been my hang-up with memoirs. I never feel like I can relate to what the author is saying, so I give up after a couple of chapters. I don't think anyone will find that a problem with this book.

Even though I know Christina (at least, through email) and had gotten updates as I prayed for her through this, I realized as I read that I had no idea the grand scope of what she was experiencing. I found myself wanting to skip to the end, but stopping myself because I so wanted to experience the real journey alongside of her.

What struck me most about My Life and Lesser Catastrophes is how even in her doubting moments, even in acknowledging her weaknesses, you could see this unwavering faith shining through her. I've wavered in my faith for much less tragic circumstances.

Her journey has so much to offer readers in encouragement and inspiration. Plus it's eligible for free super saver shipping on Amazon...so you should definitely check it out.