Eno Time

On Thursday, I took my Eno (hammock) to the park down the street and laid in the sunshine, reading and writing and basking in the unseasonable warmth. I didn't realize until I got to the park and got my hammock strung up just how much I needed the silence and stillness.

God is doing some amazing things in my life. I do not even know how to explain fully. (I feel like I've been saying that for a while...) And the silence, the stillness, the willingness to just sit and be with the God who is the lover of my soul? It didn't make clearer any of the questions I have about his plan at the moment, it just made the unknown seem less important.

I have found the overarching theme of my life lately has been God telling me "Don't you know that I am bigger than all that?" to which I usually reply something along the lines of, "there's just no way..." To which he always says, and the only thing I heard quite clearly yesterday...

"Watch me."

You think I can't?... Just watch me.

Oh, my.

Big Little Lessons

As friends, we are supposed to call on each other. Friends exist so that we may call on each other for what we need. After a conversation I had a few days ago, I'm realizing just how much Satan feeds on our silence. On our belief that what we need, or what we want to ask, is unimportant.

But it is important. All of it. If it is important to me, it should be important to my brothers and sisters in Christ. For no other reason than just that: it is important to me. This makes it worth voicing.

I am terrible at this. God puts it on my heart to ask for very simple things, like prayer requests for me and my friends, but a second later I have convinced myself not to ask. Because they are busy, or it isn't a good time to ask, or they don't care, or it really isn't that important. Oh, but it is.

The purpose is not so much that they do anything for me, but that I would go to my brothers and sisters in Christ when I need them. In anything and everything, and that I would be confident that if it is important to me, it is important to them too.

God challenged me in that this week. He's had me asking for things all week, some big things and some small things like prayer requests. The more I do it, the more I realize the freedom that comes from being completely honest and open with those around me. The more I see the reason why God tells us to invite others into our lives and share our burdens, even if they are seemingly very small things.

It isn't about their reaction. I don't really need anything from them at all. They could not acknowledge me at all (though not preferable) and it would be okay. I just need to know that someone else knows my burdens.

However, for the most part, the responses to those needs and requests have been above and beyond what I expected. Oh, how my brothers and sisters come through when I just give them the chance.

It's awesome. I think I'll continue.

The Fiery Furnace

I have noticed many of the different threads of my life all coming together lately. I have been trying to process everything that I learned last semester, and how to put into action the newly softened heart I find myself with. I have been convicted about the lack of good, solid female leadership, though I did not realize that that was God's intention for me. I have been reading Desiring God by John Piper, and The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer, and their opinions converge in the idea that we claim that we want God, and yet we settle for a half-hearted relationship with him. This has played into my conviction about apathy, how we are comfortable and so unwilling to follow God into any sort of discomfort or confrontation. I am convicted because so often we need strong people to stand up for us (which sometimes includes standing up against us) to confront the sin in our lives, and yet no one does. I know that I have failed in this more times than I can count.

Have you caught the common thread yet? Ours is a God of action. Ours is a God that sets the world on fire, so that his people may know the sound of his voice. Satan thrives on our silence, on our unwillingness to confront each other. Our unwillingness to act.

There is, of course, a time and a place for confrontation. Just as there is a time and a place for silence and grace. But Satan has twisted the meaning of grace to make us think that it means we cannot confront each other at all. The difference is the motivation: are you seeking confrontation for your glory, or God's? Are you avoiding it for your comfort, or because God led you to do so?

Do you know the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego? They refused to worship the king's idol, so Nebuchadnezzar threw them into a furnace. Except, when the king looked into the furnace, he saw four men walking around completely unharmed. The three men, and "the form of the fourth was like the Son of God." (Daniel 3:24-25) When the three men came out, they were un-singed, un-burned. Nebuchadnezzar saw God's power at work, and he relented.

God recently called me to call someone out. I knew, before I opened my mouth, that all hell was going to break loose as soon as I did. Did I want to? No, of course not. Did I enjoy being berated all night? Did I want to make them angry and upset? Not even a little bit. But I love this person too much to let it go. Because they deserve better than to be ignored and enabled. But sin, you see, fights back with fervor. When it is threatened, it ignites a powerful inferno. But truth spoken in love is even more powerful. And while this person may never see it, may never know it, may never want to be near me again, I love them more than I care about whether or not they like me. And I may not be thrilled, but I am willing to walk into the fire, because I know that my God is right there with me, and that the spark of truth it might ignite in someone I love is worth far more than my measly, meager comfort.

Ours is a God of action. He calls us to things that are uncomfortable. God calls us into all kinds of fiery furnaces. Because he saved us and made us new, and sometimes it takes fire to share that with someone else. The Gospel is offensive. It is a fire all its own, and Satan fights its presence with all that he has. If God called you to, would you not be willing to walk into the fire? To brave the heat for the chance to share your God with someone?

Most of us would answer "no." Because that would require disrupting our comfortable lives. And would require us to have faith that God would not only deliver us safely from it, but meet us in the middle of the inferno.

Has God ever called you to confrontation? To face an uncomfortable situation for the sake of someone else?

I'm certain he has. Let me rephrase:

Did you obey?

This Is

... one of those moments when there is so much going on in my head and heart that I cannot effectively form words to describe it.

God has been doing some incredible things. He is teaching me about how to effectively love those around me, as well as put into action the heart that he grew in me in Europe. He has also been showing me just what a poor job I have done of loving some of the people that mean the most to me. Oh, and don't forget that sweet, healthy dose of patience that he is always adding in. Mercifully, of course, as patience is not my strongest quality.

Speaking of strong qualities, I have been humbled to see just how much havoc my own strength has wreaked in my life over the last two years. I have known it was there, but I did not realize the extent of control it had over my life until a few days ago. It is the sole reason I have failed so miserably at loving one dear friend in particular, something that God brought to my attention recently. (Though this friend probably has no idea, I have not only failed to love him well, but failed to love him at all.) This makes me sad and heartbroken, but also hopeful. Because though I am currently being left to sit in that sadness, I have a lover, a redeemer, a Savior who has made me new. Who has promised to change me, promised to love me. And promised to tear down my stubborn pride. Alleluia :)

He also keeps telling me wild and unbelievable things. Making promises, actually. And, whether those things actually come from the Lord or are some new clever tactic of Satan's (I'm not particularly sure at the moment) those things pass through the Lord's hands before they reach my ears. Thus, all I can do is sit at his feet and trust his sweet, wonderful, unchanging heart to guide me, and try not to get too caught up in the logistics. Some moments are easier than others.

I have bible study at my house every Wednesday night. A group of incredibly sweet women come over to my house and drink tea and talk about Jesus. It's my favorite night of the week. This semester, since it has been so purposefully put on my heart, we are looking at how to be a Godly woman. In singleness, in relationship, in day-to-day life. Last week, we talked about standards. The standards that we, as women, should set for men. And settling for nothing less.

One of the things on my list is that he must be a missionary, every day. What does that mean? Well, it plays into a lot of what I have been learning lately about loving the people around me well, and how to effectively do the ministry I've been called to when I am so incredibly busy all the time: look at the people God has already placed around you. Being an every-day missionary means loving well those people that God puts right in front of your nose. Seeing and seeking purpose and being intentional in every encounter, and having a heart for those that God puts in your path that day. Those encounters, however small, are never by any means accidental.

On a slightly related note, I have found setting my standards incredibly humbling. Because in doing that, in laying out the qualities and state of heart that God desires for me, I see how far short I fall. And I am inspired to love God better.

Oh, how incredibly good God is. :)

Awkward

"...the fields go to weeds when the farmer isn't there to tend them anymore."

This piece of truth came from my sweet roommate Sam, in the middle of the night last night. We were both exhausted, and yet, the Lord had other plans for us than sleeping. And well he did. We were up until almost 3 am, sharing the things going on in our hearts that Satan had done a really good job of telling us to keep silent.

We got no answers. I had no answers for her, and I got none in return (though in my situation, there literally ARE no answers.) And yet, we both came out of it feeling better than we did going in. And the simple fact that we are no longer alone in our confusion is incredibly helpful.

I wish so badly that I had control over my heart. It will not do what I want it to, expect it to, or really think it should do. I gave it to God in the expectation that he'd flip it inside out and upside down like he always does.... Not this time, though. No. Instead of getting rid of a feeling in my heart like he usually does, he intensified it. He made it worse.

And this rubs me the wrong way. Not because I don't trust God or that he has my best interests at heart. I am fully aware that this is perfect, no matter how awkward it may make me feel. No, it rubs me the wrong way because I never wanted it in the first place and cannot control it, no matter how hard I try. Because I do not see the point or the purpose of it, and I am left feeling awkward and incredibly stupid. (And feeling like everything I do is horribly, painfully awkward as well.)

My heart does not belong to me, and I cannot control it. I can only control what I do with it.

And maybe that's the point of this season of life. I have no idea.

But I do feel the need to remind myself that God is good, and he knows what he's doing. Even when I ask him, "what the heck are you doing?" and I get no answer. Even when all I want is for him to do what I want him to and he won't. His plans always work out better than mine, and my life would be a big, horrendous mess right now if I had gotten exactly what I wanted... ever.

God is teaching me to trust him in a way I have never had to before. And that is good and wonderful and I am thankful for it.

Even if I'm not happy about it.

It's a work in progress. I'm a work in progress. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. And that is perfect.

Somehow. :)

No Mayor Amor que Este

"... que uno ponga su vida por sus amigos." Juan 15:13

"No greater love than this, that a man would lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13

My strongest love language is speech. Words of encouragement. Telling my dear friends that I love them, why I love them, how I see Christ in them, and how they inspire me to love Christ better, those are things that encourage me to do, though I do hope they also achieve their intended purpose of encouraging those I give them to.

It comes naturally to me. My Christmas presents this year were pictures taken all over Europe in places that reminded me of my friends. I printed the photos, and then wrote the prayers and thanks that I said for them while I stood in that place. It's my native language. It is the way I tell those around me that I love them, and the way I feel most loved in return.

I have always known that there are other love languages, too. Touch, quality time, etc. Everyone has different ones, different things that mean the most to them, different ways that they feel loved by others best. However, I've never encountered someone who can't understand a love language that isn't their own. Until now.

I've told them that I love them. But my words go in one ear and out the other. And then my pride flares up, because I don't appreciate being pegged a liar when I am not. But, always, Jesus speaks into those moments and reminds me that it isn't about me. I do that same thing to Jesus all the time. Does he get mad, throw up his hands, and give in? No. Of course not. He changes the language in which he speaks to me.

If words are not getting through to me, Jesus uses something else. The people around me or music or feelings or anything, really. If attempt number one doesn't get through, he tries again and again and again until I finally get it. He doesn't dig in his heels and kick and scream because he is being asked to give up a little part of himself, a little part of his comfort.

He loves me the way I need to be loved.

Naturally, we expect those around us to speak the same love language that we do. When I encourage those around me, I naturally assume that it says the same thing to them that it does to me: that I am dearly thankful for them and would not be the same without them. But that isn't necessarily true. That is all well and good, but I am loving those around me in the way I like to be loved. Not necessarily in the way they need to be loved.

And in that moment I am faced with a choice: feed my pride and demand my own selfish satisfaction, or throw up my hands and lay down my life for my friend.

God is big and good and wonderful, and I want to show those around me how real he is. Even when my pride flares up and I throw a fit and fail miserably. Because he is bigger and better and more wonderful than my pride is ugly. And he promised to break it down. (Lev. 26:19)

And well he is.

Waiting for Boaz

I have started and re-started this post eight times now. It is something that has been very close to my heart for the last year or so, but has been ever more so over the last few weeks. I am struggling to put something I care about so passionately into one concise thought. Bear with me.

The story of Ruth is one of my favorites in the Old Testament. If you don't know it, go read it. It's short. (For the sake of time and sanity, I won't summarize it right now.) Ever since I first read that story, the phrase "waiting for Boaz," has been in my head. The truth of that phrase has humbled me over the last few months as I have learned exactly what that means.

Boaz was a lover, a fighter, a servant and a king. He exemplified the most important qualities of God, and put God above all else. And he put Ruth second only to God himself. And, most importantly, he pursued and fought for Ruth when she needed him most. And God has been encouraging me to set biblical standards for men, and to set them HIGH. Because the standard by which they live their lives should be high. Certainly much higher than most of them realize. And, sadly, much higher than the standard by which most women measure them. Culture, plus a lack of feminine leadership, has led to a heartbreaking habit that we women have of settling.

It begins, most often, because we are uncomfortable in singleness. We are designed to want someone, to want love and relationship and a companion. Wanting those things is good. Chasing after them like a dog after a car is NOT. And yet, we do it every day. What we don't realize is that any love, any embrace, any companionship we may get from even the best of men pales in comparison to the love and friendship we get from Christ. The thought of spending your life loving no other man than Christ himself should be honoring, cause for joy, not cause for despair. And yet that is exactly how most women feel at that possibility.

Thus, not only do we look Christ in the eye and say "give me someone to love," but we do not even measure that someone by the standards Christ set for them. For us. Did you know that relationship is not meant to be FOR us? It isn't about us. A husband is not promised to you. You are not entitled, and it isn't for or about you at all. It's about God, and two people bringing more glory to God together than they did apart. Our joy is an overflow from that, but it is not the purpose nor should it be the goal.

We settle for men who live up to the cultural standard. We expect them to be passive and selfish, because we are taught that that is just the way they are. We, as women, are taught that it is okay to chase them, because if we don't chase them, how will they know we are interested in them? We are impatient and don't trust God's timing, not to mention selfish and proud, so we chase them. We settle for just anyone, because we are afraid that our standards are too high (if we have any at all) and we are afraid that if we let the 'good' man go, we will never find a great one. And good is better than nothing.

Ladies, it's not. Good is not acceptable. Good is not good enough. God did not design your precious, beautiful, valuable heart just so you could throw it to someone who is just okay.

Set your standards. And then set them higher. God will not only cross your path with the man who meets those standards, he will put in that man's heart the desire and willingness to pursue you. He will bring you your Boaz. In the meantime, we are to pursue Christ with all that we are so that we may become the kind of woman that man will be proud to love. We keep trying to write our own mediocre stories, when God is trying to write us something more beautiful than we could possibly imagine.

Let him write your story.

Don't settle for a man who makes you chase him. Don't settle for a man who isn't pursuing a wife. (it doesn't have to certainly be you, but if that's not what he's after, he has no business pursuing anyone.) Don't settle for a man who isn't intentional and consistent. Don't settle for a man who cannot lead you to know Christ better.

These are the most basic of basics. The rest of your standards should build from these, but those look different for everyone. You should have specific, set standards. Don't measure entirely by the men you're surrounded by. Measure by the Creator of men. They will all fall short. But, eventually, one will come along who falls less short than the rest.

You'll know it when he chases you to the ends of the earth and back.

Make Christ your goal, God the one you chase after with all that you are.

Let Christ define your Boaz, and don't settle for anything less.

And if no man ever comes along, if God never calls you to marriage, then you get the honor of spending your life loving no man but Christ. Which is an incredible blessing, whether you believe it right now or not.