Faith

nothing is wasted

Yesterday I did something I've never done before. I locked my keys in the car. To make matters worse, I locked my phone in the car too. Right there on the seat. Next to my keys. I don't know a single person's phone number here in Georgia. Not a one. The joy of technology is that I don't have to remember. Until I have to.

After many frustratingly futile attempts at getting assistance, a sweet woman swooped in to rescue me. She drove me home to pick up my spare key and then drove me back to my car. An angel indeed. With a southern accent. They grow 'em warm and hospitable down here, that's for sure.

Did I mention that on Monday I left my purse in a restaurant? And only noticed 30 minutes later? Yeah. (Another first for me.) Thankfully once again integrity won the day. I recovered my purse. With everything in it.

But seriously? I had these big firsts two days in a row?! C'mon!

Sigh.

Now it's today... And today there's an undercurrent of ache in my heart. It's another one of those days that I wonder if I'm the only one who remembers. Or maybe just the only one who cares.

And on top of that, today I'm on a plane bound for DC to have a meeting I shouldn't even have to have. Yeah, that current of ache grows stronger even at 30,000 feet.

Maybe even more so at 30,000 feet.

But here on this plane I'm reminding myself that God doesn't waste a thing.

God doesn't waste a thing.

Nothing---neither the best nor the worst that I've known---is wasted. Ever. Everything can be made new. Everything can be redeemed. Everything can be made whole.

Nothing is wasted.

Not even the frustrations of yesterday.

Or the ache of today.

fixing my thoughts

God was very clear. "Fix your thoughts on what is true," He said. But I've been doing the exact opposite.

I spend a lot of time thinking about things that are untrue.

My mind gets stuck on the myriad of lies I believe about myself. Like I'm not enough. And It's always my fault when things go wrong. And I'm not lovable.

Oh, the list goes on and on.

Lately I've been challenged to listen more closely to my internal commentary. To pay attention to the lies that are stuck on repeat. And to replace them with truth.

It's time to fix my thoughts.

By fixing them on what is true.

four-minute friday: spider-webbing

four-minute friday 2Go. This is how my brain works. I call it spider-webbing:

I bought a pumpkin spice candle today for my room. Because it smells like autumn, my favorite season.

I've always said my beloved chai tastes like autumn in a cup. Mmmm...

While fall is my favorite official season, my favorite unofficial one is from the launch of Starbucks' red cups of happiness until Christmas. Mmhmmm. I just mentioned Christmas on my blog. And it's only September.

I used to love buying school supplies. I've been fighting the urge to buy a pack of really good pens, but maybe I should since I lost one of my favorites this week. It rolled out of reach under a couch occupied by people talking about country music.

I'm heading to Nashville next week. For the first time ever. ('Cause layovers don't count.) And I'm all chuckles because it was my childhood dream to live there. Why? I wanted to live near Amy Grant.

I haven't listened to Amy Grant in years.

I just removed Michael W. Smith from my iPod. Sorry all you still-adoring fans. I just couldn't do it anymore.

A friend video'd herself singing a worship song she wrote, and sent it to me. A few others sent me video messages this week as well. Did you know you could do that with that handy talk to me link up there? You can. I think you should.

I'm actually thinking of maybe making a video for an upcoming Four-Minute Friday. Waddayathink? What would you want me to ramble about for four whole minutes here on the Grit?!

Anyone out there know someone who might want to build a customized blog for this missionary? I figure it doesn't hurt to ask.

Speaking of dustbunnies... Oh dangit! Out of time.

Done.

God's heavy hand

I can't get Psalm 32 out of my head. Or maybe it's my heart that it's stuck in. It speaks of the overwhelming relief I experience when I finally throw myself at the foot of the cross and seek God's forgiveness. It describes so well God's heavy hand that weighs on me until I reach that breaking point of surrender, and the freedom that awaits me on the other side.

It describes a place I want to always be quick to come to. Always.

And it's a place someone I love needs to get to.

I've been praying, begging, for God's hand to be so heavy that he breaks under the weight of it. For God's kindness to be so overwhelming, he can't help but run to it. For the Lord's unfailing love to take him captive. Until all he can do is fall on his knees in repentance, and let God's forgiveness roll over him like a sweet summer rain.

Because I know the freedom that awaits him on the other side...

the hem of His robe

The woman bled for 12 years straight. Physician after physician shrugged his shoulders. She’d given up all hope of ever getting better. But then she heard about Jesus: the miracle worker. Desperate, she knew she had to get to Him. As she clawed her way through the crowd on her hands and knees, she carried with her much more than her illness. She carried shame. As if in a bag over her shoulder, she dragged along a heavy burden of rejection and fear. She's referred to as the “woman with the issue of blood”, but her issues ran much deeper than that. Her physical ailment made her an outcast in her own culture. Her emotional hurts and scars were far worse than her physical ones.

Finally catching up to Jesus, she reached out and frantically, yet faintly, grabbed the hem of His robe. Immediately, she was healed. Jesus turned around and faced the crowd. “Who touched Me?”

She told Him the whole truth. She told why she had touched Him and how she had been instantly healed. Jesus cared enough to listen to her story. The long version. He just let her talk. He was on His way to heal a dying girl. People were rushing Him. Pressing Him. Insisting He keep going before it’s too late. He silenced them long enough for her to tell her story.

When she finished talking, He responded by calling her Daughter. It’s the only time recorded that He addressed someone that way. The love she felt in that one simple word must have been overwhelming. After pouring out her heart, He'd responded with pure affection. Gentle but aggressive love.

If Jesus’ aim was simply to heal her, He would have kept walking after she touched Him, for she was healed instantly. If that was all He was concerned about, He wouldn’t have stopped, turned around, asked the question. He wouldn't have looked straight at her, talked to her, listened. But He did all those things. He wanted to let her talk. To tell her story. He wanted to call her Daughter.

For that is when her heart was healed.

He wanted to heal more than her body. His aim all along was to heal her heart.

I can picture Him looking her in the eyes as He talked to her. And making her look into His. The healing began as, face-to-face, His love was visible, and it resonated within her soul. It broke down walls. Shattered barriers. Smashed through the defenses she’d lived behind for so long. His love broke through with a simple gaze, a listening ear, and undivided attention.

It wouldn’t have helped if He healed her physically, but left her to still carry the hurt from her 12 years of rejection and disgrace. Despite her physical healing, she probably would have continued to stay holed up in her house. She would have been the same cowering little girl she always was, still dragging her bag of shame behind her. But as Jesus looked into her eyes, He saw the woman He created her to be, and He wasn’t content to leave her drowning in her pain.

The greatest healing isn’t the miraculous cure of her incurable disease. It is the passionate healing of her heart.

God’s primary concern is still the condition of hearts. Physical health and a blessed life pale in comparison with a restored soul. God’s heart hurts for our hurting hearts.

He still brings love, grace, and healing through a touch of the hem of His robe.

And we are the hem of His robe.

[originally posted this day two years ago]