What I’ve Learned About Seeking God
Ask God For the Pony
Every fall, kids make wish lists of all that they want for Christmas. When our kids were young, I feared Toys-R-Us. I was terrified they’d set their hearts on something huge we couldn’t afford. One year there was a giant toy pony that kids could actually ride. I think it cost $400. Ridiculous.
Years ago, my friend’s son was celebrating his 4th birthday. Just before he blew out the candles, we said, “Make a wish, Luke.” Without skipping a beat, he took a breath and said, “I wish I could fly,” then blew.
That’s how kids think. I want the pony. I want to fly.
Somewhere along the way, we make our lists more reasonable. More practical. We stick to the budget. That’s good in some respects, but there’s an aspect of how kids ask that we aren’t meant to lose.
What are children like?
They are weak, needy, and unashamed. Boldly they bring their needs and make them known. They’re trusting. They don’t analyze whether or not the ask is too much or out of line-they’re just honest with desire. Faith that their parents will take care of them drives their asks.
In the gospels, I see Jesus inviting this kind of boldness in our relationship with God. He’s always asking people to come closer, calling out their desire, “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus honors faith, even when it’s just a desperate grab at his cloak. He makes space for children, calling us to be like them. We too are invited to come and ask.
So why don’t we? Why don’t we go to God with all our hopes and dreams and wishes and ask big?
The vulnerability of audacity
Prayer is vulnerable. It’s a raw and scary prospect to bring all our desires before someone who could choose not to fulfill them in the way we hope. We are tempted to hedge our prayers and only ask for what we think he’s willing to do, what’s in the budget. We wonder if we’re asking for the right things in the right ways so much that we end up asking for nothing at all. It’s easier not to ask than to ask and be disappointed.
But prayer is about so much more than getting what we want. It’s about drawing closer in trust to our father, letting him have our whole hearts, and in the process being shaped to his will. He can’t do that when we hold back.
Be childlike
I now try to be more childlike in my prayers. I go to God bare hearted, telling him everything I wish were true, everything I hope will happen, everything I want. Go honest, raw, angry, scared, confused, hopeful, searching. We don’t have to censor ourselves, but instead, trust that he can see through our aching.
As we do, he sorts out the aching. He is at work in these areas. Listen to him remind us of what’s true. We will feel his delight. He pours out peace and comfort. When we bring our whole hearts, he can fully sift them and give us the right perspective. It leads to gratitude and worship.
What’s on your list today?
Be audacious, bold, needy, honest. Be childlike in your faith and your trust. Ask for the pony. Tell him you want to fly. Bring your whole heart to your father who loves you more than life and trust that he will give you what is good.
“Which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” -Matthew 7:9-11
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5 Things Christians Can Do After the Election
On Wednesday, November 9th, we will wake up to a new president. Lord, have mercy. However the chips fall, the next four years will encompass a reality most of us probably would not have chosen. It’s easy to feel helpless in light of the future, but there’s still much that we can, and should, do.
- We can pray. I’ll be honest-I put off voting because I didn’t want to vote for either major party candidate. I have serious issues with both of them. But here’s what I know about both of them-God loves them, and he can redeem them. To say otherwise is to deny his power. Their souls are more important to Him than anything else about them, and they desperately need our prayers. So we can pray for our new president. We can pray for wisdom, guidance, humility, wise counsel, strength, and peace. We can pray for a heart responsive to His Spirit.
- We can respect our leader. Like I said, not a fan of either candidate, but I also recognize that being the president of the United States has to be the toughest job in the whole world. God asks us to respect everyone, especially our leaders (1 Peter 2:17), and that includes people we disagree with. We are called to love even our enemies, and love includes speaking well. So we can speak with the same respect and grace about the president as we would if that person were with us face to face, because it glorifies God.
- We can love our neighbors. This election cycle has caused so much division. Shame and vilification have happened left and right, even between people who claim to care for each other. I have hovered over the “hide this person’s posts” button on Facebook more than once. But at the end of the day, our call to love is greater than anything. So we can keep moving toward people who have offended us and see differently than we do, especially when they are fellow believers. Christ declared that the world would know we are Christians by our love. We can prove that true.
- We can be like Christ to the world. I’ve been immersed in the gospels lately, and what strikes me about Jesus’ interactions with this world is that non-religious people really liked him. And he really liked them. He went to where they were. He ate with them, accepted them, and then called them to something greater. His lead foot was love. We as the church have focused so much energy on changing laws instead of changing hearts. We can choose instead to imitate Christ. We can move toward people with grace, invite them to the one who loves them more than life, and trust him to change them in a way no law ever could.
- We can trust God. He never wrings his hands during election time, hoping we’ll choose the right leader. He uses all of this. He doesn’t need America to be a “Christian” nation for Him to work. In fact, the church is growing the most in places where the government doesn’t recognize religious rights at all. We can live not by fear but by faith and trust that his power and his Spirit are indomitable. We can rest in hope that whichever way this goes, His purpose for our world will continue.
This is an opportunity for us to respond differently than the world. And isn’t that what we are called to do? We can glorify God, love Him, and love others regardless of the outcome of this election. In fact, there may never have been a more opportune time for us to live this way. Let’s make the most of it.
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Either/Or Thinking in a Both/And World
Doubting in the Darkness
Remember paper maps? Ah, the good old days, when we navigated ourselves from one place to another, like pioneers! I loved paging through the giant U.S. atlas we kept in our living room, imagining myself traveling unknown routes.
I remember the first time I had to make use of that atlas on my own. I was living in Mankato, Minnesota (famous for being the place Pa Ingalls took his lumber in the Little House series). I was driving home to Rochester for the weekend, then to Eau Claire, Wisconsin (my alma mater) for a party one Saturday night. I had to drive straight back to Mankato after the party to be at church Sunday morning.
For the visually minded – here’s what it looked like:
I had never driven from Eau Claire to Mankato, but I read in my trusty map that at the border, where I normally turned south to go to Rochester, I could continue straight on highway 60 all the way to Mankato and save time. (I was disproportionately proud of myself for discerning this. Like seriously, seriously proud).
So, armed with this information, I set off in my Ford Festiva (read “glorified bumper car”) at 9 pm after the party. In the dark. In a Wisconsin winter. Deer season. Brilliant.
Sure enough, I had a near miss with a deer that left me a little shaken. Shortly after, I arrived at my fateful turn. I could turn left and take the longer, known route through Rochester, or I could follow what I’d seen on the map and plow ahead. I plowed.
The first 10 miles of that road were a winding path through dark, snowy woods. No houses, no streetlights, no civilization at all. It didn’t look anything like what I had expected. Within minutes, my mind began to run wild with thoughts like:
What if this is the wrong road? Maybe I’m driving to Canada. This is going to take forever, and I’m going to fall asleep in the car, then crash. Or what if I hit ice and go off the road? There’s no one here to help me. I’ll die alone in my car. They’ll find my body two weeks from now, gnawed by wolves (lots of potential death in these scenarios). What have I done?!?
I doubted in the dark what I had seen in the light.
But every once in awhile, I drove past a sign that said, “Highway 60.” I was on the right road, whether it seemed like it or not.
I finally had to mentally grab hold of myself and say out loud, “Gina! You are ON highway 60! And the map said that if you stay on highway 60 you are getting to Mankato, so Just. Keep. Driving!”
And sure enough, I made it to Mankato.
I think of this story often when I navigate life. I can be so sure, when I spend time with God and his word, of what is true. I walk out confidently into the world, and then it looks anything but like what I expect. It’s harder. Darker. There are twists and turns I didn’t expect.
I can be gripped by anxiety and doubt. I question if I heard right. I wonder if the truth holds in this circumstance. I can think he’s led me astray.
When we lived in Singapore, I lived by my Singapore road guidebook. Singapore is not a driver friendly country, laid out on an easy to navigate grid. If you miss your turn, good luck-there’s no block to circle. So many times I pulled over and whipped that book out of the glove compartment to reorient myself.
This is how we need to live. We have to be people who live close to the truth about who we are and who he is. We have to keep reminding ourselves that he knows the way, he is our guide, and it’s true whether or not it looks like it’s true. Sometimes that means stopping again and again to reorient ourselves so we don’t end up wandering aimlessly or getting lost in lies. Pull over and ask for directions. It might take longer, but we’ll stay on the right track and go with confidence.
Bottom line friends: don’t doubt in the dark what you’ve seen in the light.
“But I’ll take the hand of those who don’t know the way, who can’t see where they’re going. I’ll be a personal guide to them, directing them through unknown country. I’ll be right there to show them what roads to take.” (Isaiah 42:16)
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Embracing Suffering – Guest post at Thrive Connection
Suffering in this world—great or small and in one form or another—is inevitable. It is not something like jury duty that you just have to hope will not happen to you. You will not avoid it if you simply “play your cards right” or just “walk in the Spirit.” Nor is it some detour to get through quickly so you can get back to the real work of ministry.
Suffering in the Christian life is essential. It is a tool for transforming us into the kind of people God designed us to be.
Read the rest of this post at Thrive Connection.
I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)
There are people in the world who like to rescue others. There are others who look for someone to rescue them. And there are people like me, who think, “I don’t need rescuing, thank you very much.”
Except I do. I very much do.
I try, though. Oh, how I try.
I try to hold it together. Keep up the appearance of competence. I master self-sufficiency and ignore my needs and emotions for the sake of keeping it going. Deceive myself into thinking that rescuing is for someone else. My energy goes to rescuing the ones who can’t quite manage it on their own, who don’t have their stuff together.
I’m like a soldier on the battlefield who tries valiantly to press on despite repeated arrows, “Tis but a flesh wound.” Asking for help is out of the question.
But underneath this lie that I don’t need rescuing is not strength. It’s fear.
It’s a fear that if I call for help, no one’s coming. The fear is grounded in those lies of too much and not enough. It says there is no one who cares enough to offer their strength, no one stronger willing to step in. I fight for myself because I fear no one will fight for me.
I’m partway through a much-needed sabbatical. In the first days, as my soul slowed down, this is the fear that rose to the surface. It is the source of much of my anxiety and restlessness, my need to control my world. As I have turned it over and over, examining its root, I see it for the lie that it is.
Because there is Someone coming for me. There is One whose strength is always greater, who longs to rescue, who calls me to be the child I am and rest in Him.
When I feel weak, helpless, and incompetent, I can step off the battlefield and just receive; no need to press on, because He can take care of it, can take care of me.
He is calling me to deeper, dependent prayer, as I recognize those moments when I am tempted to take back the weight of the world on my shoulders.
He calls me to the images in scripture of our God who is our strong tower, our rock of refuge, our Savior, letting them speak grace into my tired places. I am so grateful for this fear to come to light, so that God can speak His words of life and truth to replace it.
“Because she loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue her; I will protect her, for she acknowledges my name. She will call upon me, and I will answer her. I will be with her in trouble. I will deliver her and honor her. With long life will I satisfy her and show her my salvation.” – Psalm 91:14-16
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I Am Not My Child’s Savior
I am not my child’s savior.
This thought occurred to me yesterday as I walked around our neighborhood. Pondering the fact that our daughter’s team, playing in a tournament an hour away, was not doing well, left me unsettled.
First game was a bust. Second game they knocked two in the goal in the first ten minutes, but let their lead slip away into a tie game. Those two games meant advancing was impossible, regardless of the outcome of the final game. Our daughter walked away from the second game in tears.
Nothing is more important to her right now than this sport. All her future hopes are wrapped up in this. And while we both know that the hold on her heart is too strong, I remind myself it is not my job to make sure her dream doesn’t die. It’s not my job to make it all better. All my unsettledness was because I could. not. fix it.
Oh, but that’s what I want to do. Take away the pain. Erase the loss and disappointment. We all want that. We want wins, and good grades, and close friends, and safety. Eliminate everything that could hurt our kids.
So I set myself up in the position of savior in her heart.
Why We Try to Save
It’s heady stuff to have a person who thinks you can do anything. We slip into the superman complex because it makes us feel good about ourselves that we can be the rescuer, the savior, the protector.
Maybe if we just stay close enough, say the right words, step in at just the right moments, we can fend off disasters. We believe the lie that we can control their worlds.
It feels right. It feels like love, to protect others from pain. But then I look at God and His word and I remember that the path to maturity always involves suffering. It makes us like Him.
Ultimately, apart from putting way too much pressure on ourselves to be more to them than we can be, saving our kids takes away the opportunity for them to look to the real Savior, to learn to rely on Him and receive from Him what they need in times of struggle.
Why We Shouldn’t Save
Being away from my daughter this weekend was hard, but so good for her. She needs me to get out of the way so that she can learn to lean on the One who is always there, who knows the value of failure, loss, loneliness, and pain to mold a heart into His image, and whose wise hands guide her in ways I never could.
We do our people a disservice when we don’t encourage them to turn to Him in times of fear, hurt, discouragement. Our lives are meant to be lived in dependence on Him. Pain is a pathway to that dependence.
“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
All that energy we spend trying to keep others’ lives running right is not what keeping things running right for them. In fact, it might just be what keeps them from Him.
So let’s resign as the controllers, the rescuers, the saviors of our children. Let’s trust the true Savior and teach our children to look to Him in times of trial.
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Living a Better Story
When I look at this next month, I’m tempted to think, “How am I going to get through this?”
My fallback is, “With a lot of caffeine and chocolate,” but there’s probably a better option.
This is my point of need, and it is a good place.
When life feels overwhelming, when the waves are just a little higher than I’m comfortable, and the current is strong, it is tempting to switch into battle mode and just barrel through.
The problem with that style is that I tend to leave people in my wake. I get short with my family. I am not present with people. My body responds physically to the stress of swimming harder. My focus becomes “I just have to get through.” I miss so much.
This morning, as I stare down this week when I know that sitting will be a luxury, there probably won’t be actual meals on the table, and if we looked at what we’re spending in tolls we would cry rivers, I know I don’t want the story to only be, “We made it.”
There’s a better story I could write this week, because God is in the picture.
All morning He has been reminding me that this week is an opportunity.
This is my point of need, where He wants to show His power in my weakness. He wants to carry us. He wants to give us the strength and peace and patience and joy to do this week like it’s the best week ever.
It begins by laying down my own efforts. If my worries become prayers, my task list becomes my places of dependence. It can happen if I navigate this week by the power of His Spirit alive in me, and not by anything I bring to the table.
If that’s where I’m resting, then I can love my family. I can be present with people. I can breathe rest into my body. My focus can be, “Let’s see what He can do with this week.” I don’t want to miss Him in it.
We can write a story of dependence this week.
We can write a chapter that says, “I can’t do it, but He can.” We can write love and joy and peace and glory, if we remember where to look for all we need.
He is bigger than whatever I face this week, whatever you’re facing. We don’t have to live any differently in the deep waters than we do in the places where our feet can touch. We can live a better story.
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When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time
Called to Do Today (And Just Today)
I wake up in the morning and the world weighs down on me.
There is so much to do. I have goals to accomplish, dreams to make happen and lives to shape.
There’s a future athletic trainer to develop and a hopeful rocket scientist to challenge.
Before that they need to graduate and learn independence, to drive (Lord, have mercy) and get jobs. There are hearts to be molded and relationships to strengthen before they go. That’s just in the house.
Out there is a husband trying his very best to do what God calls him to do. Right now it’s hard and discouraging. So there’s a foxhole to hunker down in together while we do all the heart molding, relationship strengthening, independence building and future shaping. In the foxhole, there’s cheerleading, listening, believing and praying that needs to happen. I love it, but it’s a battle.
There is a world of injustices I want to right. Hearts need awakening. Friends are in messy places and I want to sit there with them. Books and blog posts beg to be written. Speeches seek a voice. Coaching and leading and creating and loving call.
It’s all good and necessary, and I love it all more than life, which is why I want to see it done well so very much.
Called to do today
But as I walk this morning and lift my weary eyes to God, inquiring what to do about this heavy weight, He reminds me that we are only called to do today. Our energy needs to cover what is in this sunrise to sunset. He will direct and sustain it, and give us what we need for it.
He sees the future them, the foxhole us, and the world of needs. He’s got it all covered.
So I take all that energy I thought needed to cover the next 10 years, and I know it is the portion He gives me for this. Not all it takes for all that I see in the future – just enough of what I need for today.
My soul breathes a sigh of relief. The weight lifts because it was never mine to carry.
It is His. He’s got this. He’s got us.
We are called to do today.
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Get Quiet Enough to Listen
Years ago, a speaker named Dave shared a story that stuck with me. He and his friend, Pete, worked for a logging company, the details of which are fuzzy to me, but it involved getting logs into a stream. On occasion, for fun, they rode the logs down the stream for a bit. One beautiful lazy day, they lingered on the logs a bit too long and realized they were in rough waters. So rough, in fact, they weren’t confident they could get to shore. Dave asked Pete what he was going to do. Pete, having been a swimmer in college, decided to try for shore. Dave saw that, even with his skill, it was a struggle. He thought, “What am I going to do? I can’t swim that well!” Meanwhile, the water became faster and more turbulent.
Pete ran along shore, encouraging Dave to try to swim. Seeing the danger ahead, Dave made a break for it and paddled as hard as he could for shore. Despite swimming frantically, he got nowhere. Pete ran alongside, shouting at him, though the words were lost in the sounds of frenetic splashing and raging water.
Finally, Dave decided to give up. He could see the rapids ahead. He was a goner. Why fight it? So he went limp. At that moment, he finally heard Pete’s voice. Pete was shouting, “Stand up, Dave! Stand up!”
So Dave stood up and walked to shore.
Whenever I recall this story, I see myself. I see how I frantically try to work to get life in order, to get to solid ground, when all the while it is right there underneath me, if I would only rest in it. God, for some reason, chooses to speak to us in what Elijah experienced as the “gentle whisper.” We can’t hear it when we are scrambling on our own.
This past month, everywhere I look I am reminded that I am someone who tries to overcome the uncertainties of life by grabbing them by the horns and wrestling them to the ground with all my strength. I fight to keep control over situations that are so beyond me, (the spiritual lives of our children, for example) as though if I just try harder I can conquer them. The result is a tense, overworked, overwhelmed soul who fails at being God.
It’s time I went limp.
Anne Lamott says it well, “It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend keeping things running right is not what keeps things running right.”
God calls us to resign as God, because we are not good at it. He calls us to let go of our frantic ways and trust. Trust that He is our solid rock, our peace, our salvation, our guide. He will keep things running right. We just need to get quiet enough to hear Him.
“In quietness and trust is your strength.” Isaiah 30:15