Blog

Bread Upon the Waters

This afternoon I had the opportunity to share a few thoughts about our transition at our World Wide Day of Prayer. It should be noted that until last night, I was imagining the WWDOP here the way it happened in previous years – about 40 of us in a basement sitting around tables. It was good for me to know, at least somewhat in advance, that we would be speaking in front of ALL the staff of Cru. Good thing public speaking is something I enjoy!

As I shared, I was reminded of Ecclesiastes 11. I once spent a good part of a summer meditating on that chapter. If you read it, you will probably think, “Wow. Seemingly one of the more confusing ramblings of the Old Testament.” But God really spoke to me through it, to the point where I wrote one of my favorite poems about it.

And THAT is the point of my story. See, I always get around to it eventually. I wrote all that to introduce the fact that – ta da! – I want to share one of my poems. You might want to read Ecclesiastes 11:1-6 first to get some context. In short, what I read from it is, “You really don’t know what God is going to do. Just focus on being filled with His Spirit and being expectant, and see what He does.”

Bread Upon the Waters

Blow you winds where you will
only let that it may be
upon my back pushing me onward
causing my life to be
as bread upon the waters
poured forth heedlessly
yet anchored to You

I will take no thought of it
for where I fall, there will I lie
as I am filled, therefore will I rain
Rain upon the waters
Life returning to life
Take me, fill me, cast me out
on the path of your wind
O Maker of all things.

Continue ReadingBread Upon the Waters

Our Anchor in Transition

Is God your anchor in the midst of transition?

I have this picture in my head today of me in a tiny rowboat on a vast ocean. I know I’ve talked about boats a lot through our transition, but it’s fitting – we are on a journey.

So back to my rowboat. Imagine me in a tiny rowboat, riding the waves, and as I look around I see nothing recognizable in any direction. In fact, forget the boat – it’s actually more like a raft, Castaway style. Except unlike Tom Hanks I have not, at any point of this move, made a disemboweled volleyball my best friend and confidante. I am, thankfully, still far from that. Praise be to God.

We want life to be like a swimming pool. We want something manageable, something with defined edges, something with a dimension that doesn’t wear us out. The walls of the pool are the roles and relationships we form that give boundaries to who we are. We can stretch out on an inner tube and enjoy.

Any kind of transition – getting married, becoming a parent, changing jobs, kids leaving home, moving across town – will affect the roles and relationships we have. They stretch our boundaries – maybe to an Olympic size pool, maybe a lake, maybe the whole big ocean. We have to learn to reorient ourselves, to manage this different shape. We need to find those places where we can rest, to become familiar with the edges again.

And so there’s me, imagining the ocean around me with no land in sight. I long for the edges, the boundaries, the things that make me go, “Oh right, this is where I am, where I belong, who I am, what I’m capable of.” My temptation is to look around, paddle frantically, screaming, “WILSON!!” I find myself looking to others to tell me “here’s land.” I seek affirmation, acknowledgement, value, to make me feel solid again.

But the fact is, those things we think give us definition are ultimately not what define us at all. They are merely temporary boundaries, these roles and relationships God gives us for seasons. What we need, what I need, to remember, is that regardless of the size of my current situation, my identity comes from Him. He is the anchor who tells me, “I know you. I see you. You are mine. That is all you need.”

And in this, transition is a gift. It’s an opportunity to have all that I might depend on be stripped away, and to be called back (more frequently than I usually need) to who I am in Him. The truth of who I am in Him is a constant, grounding me regardless of the depth of water or the distance from land.

never miss a post

Continue ReadingOur Anchor in Transition

This is assigned

  • Post author:
  • Post category:faith

“How accurate are these things?”

“Umm . . . the box says 99%.

“So it could be wrong. Right?”

“I think that means it might say you aren’t, but you really are. Not the other way around.”

So began our parenting adventure 17 years ago, just months before we planned to head overseas to live long term. I have to say, it wasn’t the most thrilling moment of my life. In fact, I was stunned. I gave serious thought to the possibility that God had made a mistake. Like maybe He took his eyes off me for a second and then looked back and said, “Oh, hey, are you pregnant? Oops.”

Yes, I know, theologically unsound. Pretty sure God never says “oops.” So I spent that summer pondering how on earth this could really be good timing in light of all I hoped to do that fall in China. God led me to Psalm 16:5-6, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely I have a delightful inheritance.”

Those verses told me God is both sovereign and good. Therefore me being pregnant at that time was from the hands of a good God who knows what He’s doing. That was hard for me to accept at the time, but I grudgingly said, “Ok God, show me how this is good” and He said, “Challenge accepted” and proceeded to blow my mind with His awesomeness. True story.

Those verses came back to me over and over again through the years. It was in little moments, like when I stood on the street corner with my 3 month old, hailing cab after cab because each one I called was snaked by a stranger, and I repeated to myself, “This is assigned. This is assigned.” It was in big moments, like when we were suddenly asked to move to Singapore and leave all that we had come to love, “This too is assigned.”

Sometimes I can look back and see so clearly how it was God who intervened and made things so much better than I planned (hello, son). Other times I am still left wondering, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t accomplish what He wanted. It just means I can’t see it yet.

I’ve been mulling those verses again lately, realizing that I haven’t been as conscious as I’d like to be, or need to be, of God’s hand in the details, great and small, of my life. Something changes in my heart when I settle on the fact that nothing will come today without God’s permission, without His promise to use it for good, without His commitment to be in it and above it.

This is assigned.

never miss a post

Continue ReadingThis is assigned

I Quit Pinterest

  • Post author:
  • Post category:grace

I quit Pinterest.

Seriously, I did.

I realized that after looking at Pinterest, I would have this vaguely uneasy, discontented feeling, like maybe my health, my house, my relationships, and certainly my parties, were all a little lacking. Sub-par. Less than awesome.

True, I’ve found some great recipes there. I’m currently looking at what is a highly satisfying DIY project of ceiling medallions adorning my dining room wall, thanks to a pin I saw (but FYI ceiling medallions are NOT inexpensive unless you can magically find them at a salvage yard or something). I have new ideas for exercising. I have been amused by some e-cards.

But what I’ve found, and I’m finding all over the internet actually, is that we all seem to be striving for just a little bit more, just a little bit better. And we don’t just strive for it, we have to put it out there that we’re striving for it. And sadly I think that generally produces one of two results, at least it does in me: either a zealous attempt to keep up with the Jones who appear to produce fabulous non-processed organic meals for their continually-improving-through-homemade-activity-children and going on meaningful dates with their spouses while maintaining rock hard abs, all in their chemically free, Pottery Barn inspired yet DIY decorated homes, OR, it makes us want to throw in the towel.

Me – I’m doing the latter. It’s not that I don’t want some of those things. I just want them not that much. Not so much that I make them my god. My idols. That’s what I find happening in my heart when I sit and stare at page after page of what I could do, what I could be, what I could have. I am sure there are people out there for whom Pinterest is nothing more than a fun way to gather ideas and grow, and that’s great. For me, I have to go back to my word of the year – content – and own that Pinterest is one of those things that stands in contradiction with it.

Continue ReadingI Quit Pinterest

Do you miss Asia?

People often ask me if I miss living in Asia. I really don’t know how to answer this question, because what comes to mind is the pollution this year that has been so high it’s unmeasurable by the current systems. Obviously I can live without that. I miss friends terribly, but several of them have also left in the last year as well, so I know that life there would be very different now. I confess I find America a little boring at times – I go to the store and nothing weird happens, ever. Is that enough to make me miss being an expat? No. I can make my own weird.

We spent time recently with friends we knew in Singapore. We talked about how, initially, my friend missed it so much after moving back here that she just wanted to go back to Singapore, but the reality was, it wouldn’t be the same. We agreed that what we miss wasn’t necessarily the place itself, it’s the intangibles.

It’s things like community. I miss meeting people for the first time and being dear friends with them a month later, because that’s how things work overseas. I miss bonding like soldiers during war time, hunkering down together when the waves of living cross-culturally are too rough.

It’s feeling competent, knowing how to be an adult in the place where you are. I don’t know how to own a house. I don’t know the norms of being a parent in America. One day I will figure out this DVR thing.

It’s being known and understood, having routine, being more comfortable being the only white face than looking like everyone else. These are the things I miss, because they are the things I think we all desire from anywhere we live (except maybe the white face thing. That was just our normal).

I had those things. I miss having them. I know I’ll gradually get them back, over time, for the most part. So do I miss Asia? Let’s just say “I miss that life.”

Continue ReadingDo you miss Asia?

Christ Who Gives Me . . .

This morning I received an email from Ethan that said, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me.” I jokingly wrote back, “Gives me what? What is it Ethan? The suspense is killing me!”

But I was encouraged. This is his budding faith in action, as he was gearing up for what we both knew was going to be a rough day, reminding us both who we need to trust. He has a quarter paper due tomorrow, and in defiance of the word “quarter”, he has chosen to instead try to do it in about a week. The last seven days could be titled, “The Butz family learns the meaning and consequences of deadlines.” This morning he still had about 4/5 actually written, but not edited, and no bibliography. Nothing like a challenge for Monday morning!

To make it more interesting, Megan went to a birthday sleepover on Saturday night with 20 other girls where they were allowed to stay up until 1:30 am. I don’t remember the last time I willingly stayed up that late. It was probably my freshman year of college, before I realized that I can’t function beyond 10 pm. We learned yesterday that Megan can’t function well herself on 6 hours of sleep. Today, we were still feeling the residual damage.

All that added up to an emotional day, the kind of day where my heart struggles to stay engaged with my kids, to enter in to their emotions fully, to just sit with them in their tears. Part of me wants to let them just cry it out, to say, “Yep. I get it. School is hard. Life is hard. I’m totally with you kiddo,” and another part of me wants to move them through it as quickly as possible back to a place where they can actually finish the work and put us all out of our misery.

At times, I think, “This is too much God. My heart can’t stretch any more. I can’t sit through another meltdown. I don’t have what I need for this.”

But throughout the day, I’ve remembered Ethan’s email. I can do all things through Christ who gives me . . . strength, yes. But really, fill in the blank. Patience. Compassion. Gentleness. A bigger heart. Whatever it is we need.

Continue ReadingChrist Who Gives Me . . .

I Am an Israelite

As a family, we’ve been reading the Bible in a year together. At the same time, the church we’ve been attending is going through something called The Story, which is a 30 week overview of the Bible. We decided to throw in The History Channel’s The Bible series for good measure. We are immersed.

One of the things that always gets me when I read the Old Testament is how the Israelites can seem so dense. I mean, seriously – God parts the Red Sea for you to walk through, and about a minute later you’re complaining that you want to go back to Egypt?

He provides food out of nowhere, but still you must grumble?

The leader goes away for a little while and you decide the best option is to make a farm animal out of perfectly good jewelry to worship?

So fickle. So quick to forget. So untrusting.

So much like me.

Sigh. The truth is, I am an Israelite. I have seen God do amazing things in my lifetime, both around me and in me. But give me a new circumstance, a new place in life, and I too often forget what God has done and who He is.

I look at myself, my own resources, my lack, and I lose heart.

That is what I have done these last few weeks, and it has not been pretty, my friends. Not. Pretty.

Isn’t that what the Israelites did? They took their eyes off who God is and looked at their circumstances through their own eyes. God didn’t change – their perspective did. They just plain forgot who they were dealing with.

Which is why Moses, in Deuteronomy, tells them about 100 times “do not forget the Lord.”

Remember what He has done.

Remember who He is.

That same God who parted the Red Sea? He’s with you in your move. He’s going ahead of you to find that house. He’s here in Orlando. He’s got plans for you.

When I realized this a couple of days ago, I took some time to sit down, confess it to God, and to remind myself of who He is.

He is good, He sees me, He is able, He is love. It doesn’t matter the circumstances, it matters who we’re looking at to take care of them.

Continue ReadingI Am an Israelite

Ring! Ring! Guest post on my friend Dayle’s blog

One of the people God has blessed me with in the last few years is a wonderful woman named Dayle. She is quite possibly the most encouraging person I know. It seems to be impossible for me to talk to her and not walk away feeling infused with wisdom and joy, refocused on God. In short, she makes me feel like a rock star. A rock star who loves Jesus.

She recently asked if I would post on her blog, so I thought I would direct you there to read it, but while you’re there, linger. She sees God in everyday life and shares honestly from the heart. I know you’ll be encouraged!

Dayle’s Blog

Continue ReadingRing! Ring! Guest post on my friend Dayle’s blog

Desire

What do you do with desire?

I’m not talking about “I desire bacon” or, “I desire a tropical vacation.”

I’m talking about deep heart desires, like the desire to be loved, respected, needed, safe, important, powerful, competent, noticed. If I don’t get bacon on any given day, I’m not going to be hurt. I’m not even going to be hurt if I don’t get chocolate, though maybe a little disappointed. But if my desire to be loved goes unmet, there is potential for deep ache. So what do I do?

Most people would agree there are two main directions we sway. One is to demand that desire is met. This often looks like anger and contempt. My kids disobey, and I insist that they change. I yell and put my foot down and demand that they do what I ask. Why? Because that’s what parents should do? No – there are other ways to obedience. I do it because at a deep heart level, I don’t feel respected by them, and I hate that. Their disobedience feels unloving, and I want to be loved and respected.

So I could go another route. I could deaden my desire. This feels like the more “Christian” option. I can tell myself that I don’t care. I deny. I kill the desire. I tell myself that I am selfish for wanting it, foolish for looking to children to satisfy a desire. This is nothing more than shaming ourselves for having a legitimate desire. The collateral damage of this is that we begin to shame others for their desires as well.

Is there a middle ground? I believe so. It’s what a friend of ours last night called, “liminal space.” It’s the place where you acknowledge the desire and you sit with it. I believe it’s a place where you honor the desire. You say, “This is a true desire, a God-given desire.” The difficulty of this in between place is that there is no guarantee that the desire will be met. In fact, often it’s not. So we sit with the ache.

Why on earth would we do that? Why would we intentionally put ourselves in such a place of vulnerability? Personally, I think it’s because that’s what God does. God desires. He desires relationship with us. He desires our love, our respect, our worship, our attention. He doesn’t demand it. He never says He doesn’t care anymore whether or not we respond to Him. He sits in the ache, longing for us. Like the father in the story of the prodigal son, He waits every day, bearing the disappointment, in the hopes that something good will come. What He desires will happen.

So I believe that the liminal space is the place where God wants us to live because He lives there too. He wants us to develop hearts like His, hearts that are alive and full of desire. Hearts that are soft and vulnerable and honest. He wants us to honor the desires He has created in us.

What do you desire? And what are you doing with it?

Continue ReadingDesire

Weird

I’ve said it before – I feel weird.

I don’t mean to be weird, but I find that when I try to participate in conversation with new people, I am now “the girl who tells strange, foreign, potentially exaggerated stories.” My stories usually start with “In (fill in the blank of a foreign country)” and involve statements like, “and the bathroom just had boards over a trough in the ground . . . ” or “so I was cleaning out the inside of the chicken . . . ”

Bringing these stories up in conversation with new people feels like the social equivalent of dragging the needle across the record at a party, or jumping on a couch and yelling, “Boing!” It puts me in the category of “weird.”

I don’t mean to throw conversational curve balls, but I’m just sharing what I know. I’m reminded of an interpersonal communication class I took in college, where we were taught that each person in a conversation has a circle of experience from which they speak. Where our circles overlap with others, that’s where we find common ground from which to interact and understand one another. When we try to share part of our circle that doesn’t overlap with another’s, it can be as though we are speaking another language. In living 13 years overseas, my circle has shifted away from others. I have shifted.

After awhile, I’m tempted just to not speak at all. At times it feels like the easier, safer option. I might not be able to participate in the group, but at least I don’t feel like an outsider.

Then Friday morning and again last night I went to places populated with people who have also landed themselves in the “weird” category. And I heard phrases like, “In China . . .” and “the guy glued my Birkenstocks back together for $2!” and best of all, I heard, “I know exactly how you feel.”

I guess that’s all I need. I know I’ll always be a little weird here. I’m ok with that, as long as once in awhile someone comes along and reminds me that I’m not alone in my weirdness, and that they are a little weird too.

IMG_2207

 

See, my stories involve things like this. I just don’t get this kind of stuff in America.

Continue ReadingWeird

End of content

No more pages to load

Newer Posts
Older Posts