faith Archives - Gina Brenna Butz

Learning to Relinquish Control

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 8, 2019
Post category:dependence on God

During the 48 hours at our spiritual retreat this June, we were meant to disconnect completely from technology. But I was headed out to walk one morning, and I wanted to check the weather.

No matter that I’d checked it prior to arriving. What if it changed? What if the afternoon rain suddenly came in the morning? I didn’t want to be caught off guard.

In other words, I didn’t want to be out of control.

The Subtle Ways We Control

There was a time, not long ago, when I wouldn’t have been able to check the weather before going outside. What would I have done then? Maybe get caught in the rain. Maybe have been underdressed. Or overdressed.

But now all that’s over. That little weather app on my phone gives me a small measure of control over my life I didn’t have before. I can avoid looking foolish or being uncomfortable. Thanks, weather app!

Throughout those 48 hours of retreat, I saw more and more how control plays out in subtle ways in my life.

When I couldn’t look up a quote or person someone mentioned, I hated that I couldn’t control my ignorance.

If a book title I’d like to buy came up, I couldn’t exercise the agency to buy it on my time.

When our group was invited to sit in silence after sharing, I couldn’t manage their image of me by responding in an empathetic way.

That I like to control life is not a surprise to me. Remember the Little Miss books? I used to joke that mine would be called “Little Miss Control Freak.”

Starting to Let Go of Control

But God’s been working on me. Slowly prying my fingers off areas of my life, inviting me to relinquish my grip and let Him be God. Reminding me that I don’t really control what I think I do. As Anne Lamott says,

“It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what’s keeping things running right.” Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

So waking up to this still pervasive itch to control was a bit disappointing. Haven’t I grown out of this by now? But as I’ve said before, we’re all recovering from something.

And this: this felt a bit like God just found my secret stash of control in a back cupboard.

But in true God fashion, He opened that cupboard on the retreat with kindness and compassion, gentleness and patience. He opened it because He wants me to be free. That’s always why He shows us our sin. His kindness leads to repentance.

The desire to control is often what fuels anxious thoughts. Perhaps something in us realizes that as much as we would like to be the ones in charge, we know we aren’t. The distance between desire and reality is bound to cause fear.

The Freedom in Surrender

That is unless we surrender. Raise the white flag. Admit that despite our best efforts, we are not enough.

Surrender means a willingness to be caught in moments of foolishness. Ignorance. Discomfort.

But it also means freedom.

We’re freed from being the rulers of our little kingdoms, which, as I’ve said before, we’re terrible at. There’s something in surrender that allows us to breathe again and relinquish the burden of holding things together. We’re free to trust in the God who is capable.

And I’m finding that’s the key to surrender: resting in the fact that while I am wildly out of control of the world, God is not. We can rest in His wisdom, His power, and His love. In other words: God knows what is best for us, He can do what is best for us, and He always wants what is best for us.

The more we sit in those truths, the more our fingers relax. Our grip opens and whatever we hold so tightly to-our reputations, our security, our agency over life-can be released into His care. If we can’t believe in His ability to care for us, we will never open our hands.

The word “surrender” has become a breath prayer, one I say on my exhale when I sit in silence and all the cares of the world come flooding at me. When the temptation is to grab each one and do what I in my small power can do, He reminds me to keep my hands open, palms up, to both give and receive.

Are You Childlike?

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 25, 2019
Post category:dependence on God identity

I am not, by nature, childlike.

Responsible. Trustworthy. Mature. Those were the words more often spoken over me as a child. Even as a child, I was not very childlike.

“Childlike” used to equate with “childish,” in my mind. In other words, foolish, flighty, immature. Aren’t we supposed to grow up and be done with childish things?

Childish, yes. But childlike, never.

What Are Children Like?

Lately, I’ve taken to volunteering in the nursery through pre-school rooms at church. Aside from the occasional hilarious soundbite (one kid, when I commented on his excellent coloring skills, replied, “Thanks. I’ve been coloring for about a year now”), they help me remember what children are like.

Kids are full of wonder. Delight. Joy. Boundless energy. Everything is new and therefore interesting. They are poor in spirit, dependent, needy. And those needs pour out freely, sometimes overwhelmingly. They cry and laugh without editing. Certainly, they trust.

But maybe most baffling to me is how time slows with children. And how one simple act-swinging in a swing or throwing a ball-they can repeat again and again. It reminds me of this quote from Chesterton:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.

“But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon.

“It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
– G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

So what does it look like for us, as adults, to be childlike?

What It’s Like to Be Childlike

Maybe it starts with wonder. May God give us eyes to see the glory all around us-the blessings He gives us in every small moment. That kind of wonder leads to grateful hearts who recognize the goodness of our Father.

To be childlike is to be poor in spirit, accepting of our poverty, and willing to live from it. That is to say, we are honest about and unashamed of our weakness and need. That leads us to live each moment in dependence on God and others.

Children know they don’t have it all together. They know they’re still learning. That knowledge doesn’t lead to condemnation but to openness. To be childlike, we live teachable. No matter how far we’ve come, we believe there’s more to learn, and are open to how we might learn it.

And woven through all that there is grace. Because kids don’t beat themselves up for their humble position, and neither should we. Instead, may it leads us to trust others to carry us when we reach the end of ourselves. And may kindness and compassion mark how we respond to our souls.

The Childlikeness of God

Being childlike is, in some way, to be like our Father, because He too is full of wonder, delight, joy. His creation invites us to play and discover. Jesus humbled himself in the greatest way in order for us to have life. He chose poverty for our sakes. Moreover, He lived grace, kindness, and compassion. Growing old in our souls moves us away from His heart.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

The kingdom belongs to those who embrace their position as children before God. Those who humbly acknowledge their need and let it lead them to trust and dependence. Those who live loved by the Father. At His feet may we be filled with wonder and awe.

Finding God in the Wilderness

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 16, 2019
Post category:dependence on God faith transition trials Uncategorized

In March, I spoke at a women’s conference about finding God in unexpected journeys.

I talked about the Israelites as they left Egypt (when a season isn’t the good you expected), wandered in the wilderness (when God makes you wait and you don’t know why), and experienced the promised land (when life is just the way you want it to be).

Last fall, when I was writing these talks, I was living in a pretty good season. I resonated with the promised land experience.

And then God invited me back into the wilderness.

Suddenly, I need to listen to my own words.

Finding Myself in the Wilderness

I warned the retreat attendees about this: our real promised land is ahead. God doesn’t leave us long in those seasons. He has more for us to learn. Hence, the journey back into the wild.

See, for most of 2019 so far, I’ve experienced bouts of dizziness and headaches that at times have been debilitating. At the least, they are rarely completely gone (thanks for nothing, new year).

Finally, after an MRI (thankfully clear) and a trip to the neurologist, I was diagnosed with basilar migraines, a diagnosis that still leaves me skeptical, but at least gives me some direction.

It’s been a strange season to walk through. It’s hard not knowing how I will feel from day to day, how long it will last. I’ve wondered what He is doing, what He wants to teach me through this.

Like the Israelites, once I realized I was back in the wilderness, I started asking God for the shortest way out. Sure, You can teach me something, but could you make it fast? And easy?

It’s hard to be in a place where we realize we aren’t the ones in control. The wilderness is tiring, humbling, and at times confusing. A friend of mine put it recently, “God has you in a fog.” Indeed.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t see well in the fog. Yet as I said at the retreat (curse my words coming back to haunt me!) we can find God in the wilderness, no matter how foggy it is.

Better yet, He can see through the fog. He knows the way out of this wilderness.

So I’m looking for God in all of this.

And I’m finding Him.

Finding God in the Wilderness

He is using this season to slow me down even more (I swear pretty soon I’ll be going backward). As much as I hate doing less, He reassures me that it doesn’t diminish me.

Prayers I have prayed are being answered through this (be careful what you pray for!).

In my hardest moments, I have heard His voice speak tenderly and consistently to me words of comfort and invitation. He has felt closer than ever.

Friends have stepped in and wrapped my weakness, fears, and grief with love and care, and in the process taught me more how to let others care for me (a much needed and on-going lesson).

In a sweet moment, our daughter asked me, “What would you do if this was happening to me?” It invited me to consider how to extend compassion, kindness, tenderness, and patience to myself as I would want to give to others.

Finding He Is Enough

I believe it’s in the wilderness where God tries us to see what we really want. Do we want Him? Or do we just want what He gives us?

Will we sit in this desert place long enough to experience His sufficiency, regardless of our circumstances?

This has been a hard season, yes. At my lowest times, I beg God to just make it better. I decide I don’t want the lessons I know He wants to give me.

But God is with us in the wilderness. He meets us in the middle of it to show us more of Him, to transform us, to shake us loose from the trappings that hold us.

He uses these places to bring us to our knees. They humble us to receive from Him and others what we’ve wanted all along but have been too proud and self-sufficient to cry out for.

So I’ve tried to sit patiently in this. Keep my eyes focused on Him. Giving thanks for the good I see, trusting Him for the things I cannot see.

It’s easier to have peace on the days when I feel better. But I want peace no matter what. God keeps bringing to mind Psalm 131:2, “But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.”

God grant us that kind of trust in the wilderness. Calm and quiet souls who wait on Him.

I know it won’t last forever. God will lead me out eventually.

Maybe you’re in a wilderness too. He will lead you out as well.

So let’s stay close to Him. Let’s trust. Know that He is with us. He will do good to us in this place.

Related posts:

It’s Going to Be Okay

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

God’s Long Term Growth Project

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 28, 2019
Post category:faith growth

When I was about 20 years old, I thought, “I feel like God’s done a lot in me. I don’t know that there’s much else He wants to change. I think I’m pretty much done.” Like for REAL, I thought this.

And the Lord, in His mercy, chose not to strike me down.

Decades later (has it really been decades?), I am more than aware that I was not done then, and I’m still far from it now. God continues His work in me.

If you’ve read my blog for a while, you might remember my yellow coffee table. When we first had it custom made overseas, it came to us traffic sign yellow (not what I ordered).

Some might have looked at that table and said, “Good enough.” But I believed under all that eye-blinding yellow, my real coffee table existed.

So I sanded it down.

Better.

Three months later, I sanded it down again.

Still not quite there though.

So, a few months later, I tried again. When my daughter witnessed me doing it, she asked me why. “Because this is what I do now. This is my life. I sand this table for a living.”

Actually, I did it because I had a vision of something greater.

(Truth be told, in the end, I stripped it completely. It’s white now. Sometimes we need a complete overhaul).

The whole process causes me to think about the process of growth in our lives. It’s easy to look at the surface and think, “Yep. Good enough!” But God has a bigger vision for us.

God’s Bigger Vision for Our Growth

That vision involves a lot of stripping and sanding and polishing to get to what is underneath.

He knows our layers, what lies beneath, where the real stuff is. He won’t stop until He is satisfied that we are the way we are meant to be.

It’s a long process. Tiring. Baffling. So often I want say, “Good enough, God. This is good enough. No need to keep working.”

But He does. And what it’s reminding me today is that He is faithful. He will never stop working on us, bringing us closer to Him, molding us in His image.

His ways are higher and bigger and better than what I can see. He sees what lies beneath, the layers of our hearts that even we don’t know. He is determined to reveal every part of us.

God is relentless. He never gives up on us. He doesn’t settle for “good enough” or “close enough.” What He began in us He will complete.

And He is patient. However long it takes, however much it takes, He will fulfill His promises to us and in us. We are his long term project.

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Related posts:

Seeing the Growth

Redeemed . . . or DIYing Again

What God Doesn’t Need Us to Tell Him

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 2, 2018
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith prayer

Sitting in a time of silence one morning, I felt led to pray for our son. In the words that poured out, I sounded like I was informing God of our son’s situation. Like He didn’t know.

I do this sometimes. Talk to God about my life like He needs more information. Like if only He really knew what was going on, He would spring into action in a way He seems to not be.

Alongside this news briefing is a desire to get God to care as much about the situation as I do.

As if He doesn’t.

I beg God to love my kids as much as I do. Care about this crisis in my life as much as I do. As though He’s indifferent.

Why do we do this? Why do we pray this way? God is not a sleeping giant we must rouse to compassion and action on our behalf. He doesn’t come help the ones who scream the loudest and seem the neediest.

God already knows

He is able to do more than we ask or imagine. We are engraved on the palm of his hands. Nothing escapes Him. He’s got this. He’s got us.

Even the care we feel about our part of the world pales in comparison to how He loves it. He IS love. I can’t say that about myself, even toward those who most have my heart. He aches for what we love, more than we ever could.

May that perspective fuel our prayers.

[ictt-tweet-inline]Rather than screaming for God’s attention, may we sink into the awesome awareness that we already have it. [/ictt-tweet-inline]The hairs on our head numbered. His thoughts of us more than the grains of sand on the shores of the world.

Every one of those thoughts fueled by love, goodness, compassion, grace, mercy. Fortified with wisdom, power, insight, sovereignty.

Then our prayers won’t be us waving our arms to be seen but raising them in praise and gratitude. Instead of wringing our hands, we open them to release these things we love and hold so tightly. Rather than pleading, our prayers will bring us to peace and perspective.

We join in with what He’s already doing for our people, the world. Step into the confidence that comes from knowing He is at work. Rejoice that our hearts are known, and already His plans are laid for us. He doesn’t need us to tell him anything. He just needs us to trust.

Related posts:

On Waiting Well

Ask God for the Pony

For the Moments When We’re Not Ready

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 19, 2018
Post category:faith parenting transition

For the Moments We're Not Ready — Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

“I’ve been waiting for this moment and now it’s here and I’m not ready.”

This is what my daughter said to me the night we sat in our car on a dark street, waiting for another soccer family to pick her up and take her away for a weekend tournament.

The weeks ahead of that one moment were marked with anxiety, not knowing the family well, wondering how she would do without me.

So often life feels like that. Moments we knew were inevitable, but we just aren’t ready for them.

I Wasn’t Ready Either

Back then, I wasn’t ready for our son to drive on his own (could I just always be in the back seat?). I wasn’t ready for colleges to send him invitations (back, vultures, back!). Our kids were gearing up to fly to South Africa (SOUTH AFRICA) without us on a mission trip for 6 weeks. Life just kept coming at us.

If I thought I felt unprepared then, how much more now, as those college invites DID come, and he just left? And his sister, who also just got her license, and a job, will follow him before we know it.

Life relentlessly marches on, and these moments that feel unbearable keep happening.

I Thought I Would Be Ready

When they were little, I thought I couldn’t wait for these moments. I couldn’t wait for them to do it on their own. I couldn’t wait for my time back. I couldn’t wait.

I’ve been waiting for this moment – the moment when our kids would grow up and stretch out, becoming independent, learning to live without us.

And now it’s here, and I’m not ready.

But just like I told her at that moment, He is with us.

He has brought us to this moment, and He will carry us through.

And just like I promised He would be with her in those moments when I wasn’t there, I have to tell myself the same truth – He will be with them when I am not.

When we said goodbye to our kids that day at the airport, our friend who accompanied them saw the fear in my eyes for my 14-year-old and gently said, “We’ve got her. She’ll be okay.” And she was.

We walked through that, and college applications, and teenage drivers, and we’ll get through this too.

He’s Always Ready

Sometimes we’re just not ready, but He is.

From that first day of kindergarten to the last day of the place you love.

The first scary step into a new dream, or the death of an old one.

The last goodbye.

The first anything.

[ictt-tweet-inline]He is more than enough for those moments we feel inadequate to face. [/ictt-tweet-inline]

The next season that feels so huge, scary, undesirable even, you will get through.

So we do it scared. But we never do it alone.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you . . . for I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43: 2, 3

Related posts:

Do It Scared

As the Ride Winds Down

What I Want More Than Your Happiness

When “Do Not Be Anxious” Isn’t Enough

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 11, 2018
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith truth

When "Do Not Be Anxious" Is Not Enough — Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

After an intense October and November last year, I finally found a day to catch my breath. Or rather, to realize how hard it was to breathe at all. My chest was tight, my heart rate elevated. All the activity of those months left much undone, and the strain of getting my footing back was overwhelming.

Most of my tension stemmed from feeling I had not planned well. I had failed to keep a restful pace. I felt pressure to live up to an image of the working mom who can have it all and set a good example doing it. And in the middle of all of it was a lack of trust that God would help me through it.

But the Bible says we shouldn’t be anxious, right? Anxiety means somewhere along the way, I must have lost faith or perspective or something.

When it arises, my desire is to eradicate it as soon as possible. Leave those negative feelings behind. So I try to do what others tell me to do, and claim Philippians 4:6, “do not be anxious about anything.”

I wish “do not be anxious” was a magic wand that instantly wiped away all the feels every time worrisome thoughts pop up. It would dissolve the physical manifestation of anxiety as well as the emotional strain.

Sometimes, when the worries are small, it does the trick. It brings my mind and heart back to the right place.

But sometimes, “do not be anxious” just isn’t enough.

Because fueling those anxious thoughts are lies. Skewed perspectives. Ruts of wrong thinking. They do not easily leave.

Behind my anxiety about my schedule is often the lie that my value comes from doing more, being successful. Worry grows when I slip into thinking I can control my world, keep all the bad from happening, make all the good come into being. The more I focus on my worries, the more my heart loses faith that He will care for me.

Those lies do not simply vanish. Our hearts will not naturally drift back to the truth on their own. We have to address what got us off course in the first place.

It’s a little like the “Just Say No” campaign from the 80’s, which failed miserably. Why?

Because while we told people to say no to something, we did not tell them what to say yes to instead. Those underlying needs that drove people to drugs were still there.

So while the admonition, “do not be anxious” is true, in order to live it well, we need to dig deeper. We can’t just say no. We need to say yes to something else.

When we say yes to truth, we can say no to anxiety.

So I go back to the words that whisper my worth, not in what I do, but who He is. I feed on His faithfulness to remind me that whatever is coming, He’s got it, just like before. When I feel the pressure to perform, I read and re-read the invitations to rest, breathe, trust. I tell myself the gospel over and over so I remember who is God and who isn’t (namely, me).

And on and on it goes. To not be anxious, we must soak ourselves in truth. Bathe in it. Breathe it in. Feed on it. Fill our minds with it so there’s no room for anything else. When we live again in what is true about us, and about Him, we can relax.

We need to talk to ourselves more than we listen to ourselves.

It’s not always easy. It takes intentionality. But the peace that doesn’t make any sense at all in light of our circumstances is waiting at the end of our fight.

“Do not be anxious about anything” is absolutely true. There is no reason to fear anything. Peace is ours for the taking. To get there, we need to examine why we are anxious in the first place. How is the enemy lying to us? Where have our minds and hearts gone astray? What truth do we need to embrace?

Whatever is weighing our hearts, God speaks to it. His word is the yes we need to say no to anxiety.

Related posts:

When Fear Is a Dictator

In Case of Emergency, Remember This

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)

What weeds are choking out life in your heart?

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 30, 2017
Post category:faith hope perspective

What Weeds are Choking Out Your Life? — Photo by Jason Long on Unsplash

When I was a young staff girl with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, I crushed hard on a boy who worked with Campus Crusade for Christ. When I dreamed of my future, it was hard not to imagine a scenario where he would wake up and realize he couldn’t live without me. And yes it was a future serving God in some amazing, world changing way, but also, with the boy. Always with the boy.

Until the day he called me and told me he liked someone else, and we were only ever going to be friends. Ok, I thought. Change of plans. I can handle this. Apparently I am not going to marry this guy. But it seemed like such a good idea, God! So now what?

Growing up in Minnesota, I remember swaths of dandelions. We rubbed them on our chins and noses. Watched them fly lazily through the air. I couldn’t understand why my dad hated them, or the admonition from my parents not to blow them.

But our dad knew. Dandelions are not flowers. They’re weeds, and those innocent pieces of fluff, when blown, propagate them. The more there are, the less room there is for other life.

The hope of that relationship was a dandelion.

To be honest, I was not entirely surprised to have the rug pulled out from under me. The book I was reading at the time was When God Interrupts:Finding New Life Through Unwanted Change. Uncomfortably convicting and timely. In it, there was a quote, “When we have focused too narrowly on the dream we thought the Savior would give us, then it is the dream that has become the savior.”

The dream that takes His place. Or the activity, person, job. Whatever takes our focus off of Him. Chokes out true life. Keeps us from being fully open to God’s direction in our lives. Makes you scribble your potential married name all over the margins of your journal. The thing that looks good, but is a weed in disguise. The hope we are banking on to make us feel secure, happy, comfortable.

We have to let Him weed us of the false flowers.

With the boy out of the picture, my dreams got bigger. Or rather, my willingness to let Him shape my dreams got more expansive. Letting go of something I thought would bring life actually made room for God’s plans for me.

False flowers show up in many forms. A relationship, or the hope of one. The perfect job, or chasing an image. The activities that consume us, but God never actually asked us to do them. Anything that causes us to focus on something we think will bring life, rather than on the Giver of life Himself, can crowd out the Spirit. What looks good might not be good, if it isn’t God’s call or plan.

So what do we need to weed from our hearts today?

(oh, and by the way? I did end up with that boy).

Related posts:

Where’s Our Hope?

Are You Looking for God in the Right Places ?

Where’s Our Hope?

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 29, 2017
Post category:expectations faith hope

I’ve never been an optimist. I don’t like to call myself a pessimist, though. I prefer “realist” because it sounds better. Less of a downer. I just don’t want to be disappointed. Who does? Yet all the time, in so many ways, we hope.

I hope that the light will stay green until I get through it, or there will be good BOGO deals at Publix. I hope that the kids will find something else to do so I can have time to myself, and the key lime pie from last night doesn’t show up on my hips.

Those aren’t so bad. The bar is low. It’s when I hunger for deeper things that it can get dangerous.

I hope that my husband will always be there for me. I desire deep friendships. I long for our kids to grow up to love Jesus and follow Him. I want my life to impact others in a positive way. I would love to avoid pain. I wish all my prayers would be answered in timely and satisfying ways.

That is where hope gets tricky for me because I know the potential for disappointment is so much greater. These are unpredictable, temporal desires, out of my control. My husband travels and leaves me alone. Friends get busy. Our kids have to choose their own way, and it may not be mine. I am just one person amidst a sea of voices. The path of growth often leads through suffering. God has other ways of answering my prayers.

It’s tempting to lower my expectations, play it safe, safeguard my heart.

That’s not where life is though.

So do we stop hoping? Or do we fix our hope on something more solid?

This spring and summer, I have been camped out in the Psalms. I keep coming across verses about waiting on God, hoping in Him. He doesn’t ask us to stop hoping. He just asks us to place it in a different place. We hope not in gifts, but in the Giver.

But what does that look like? For me, I’m learning that it means laying all my desire before Him, acknowledging that they are good and God-given desires.

And then I have to open my hands and release my expectations on how those desires will be met. I trust that He will satisfy me in His time and His ways. Easier said than done.

But when God is the anchor of our hope, we aren’t blown about by the winds of disappointment as easily. We believe that He sees our hearts and knows our ways, and if we don’t get what we want, there’s something better in store. We have Him to come back to, our solid place when we are disappointed.

Without this, without Him to go back to, I could easily lose hope. But with Him, I am reminded that hope is good. Hope keeps us expectant. It keeps us looking to Him, believing in His goodness, trusting in His love. Hope keeps our hearts open.

In that light, I could be an optimist.

Related posts:

On Waiting Well

Having Hope in a New Season

Running from God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 21, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith trials

“What would make you run from God?”

A pastor asked us this question one Sunday as he began a series on the person of Jonah, the poster prophet for running from God.

The pastor suggested we might be tempted to run from a calling to another country, maybe one where westerners aren’t welcome. I found myself surprised that a specific location hadn’t even crossed my mind.

No, for me it’s not “please don’t call me to that place.” My “places” are more internal. Maybe I’m not alone.

We are, at the core, self-centered people, which is the heart of the book of Jonah. God was calling him not just to a place, but to a surrender of the heart. That, maybe more than Nineveh, was the place he didn’t want to go.

So he ran toward Tarshish. Not sure what made Tarshish so appealing. Me, I run too, but in smaller, less obvious ways (because I don’t know how to get to Tarshish).

I run by staying busy, too busy to reflect on my heart, too busy to hear from God.

I run until I feel I’ve given enough, done enough, been enough.

I run from insignificance, from feeling small or forgotten.

I run from silence, where I might encounter emotions or truth I don’t want to own.

I run from being exposed to God, or more aware of my sin, is not a place I want to be.

All places where He is calling me to surrender, to let go of what I cling to that I think is life.

I want Him to call me somewhere else, some place where I look good and successful and admirable, and I don’t have to own the mess inside.

God calls us to places of surrender in order to do a deeper work in us. For Jonah, it was a big fish for three days. I can’t say how grateful I am that God has never felt He needed to throw me in a whale to get my attention.

For me, it’s places of unanswered prayer, unexpected disappointment, unmet desire, loneliness, trials. Those are places we would rather not be, but they are the places where God can bring us to the surrender that needs to happen for us to go deeper in Christ and further in mission.

This was a good reminder for me, to ask myself whether I am willing to sit in the places where He takes me, rather than trying to scramble out to a more pleasant existence. I need to surrender to His work within me.

What about you? Are you running from Him, or are you surrendering to His work?

Lean In

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier