four-minute friday: risk

Go. The first two months of 2010---can you believe it's the end of February already?!---have held lots of risks for me. Y'all remember that's my one word focus for the year, right? (What? I'm living in Georgia. I can say y'all.)

My year of risk is well underway.

I went on vacation with a bunch of near-strangers.

I rappelled 100 feet into a Mexican canyon.

I've intentionally endured quite a few awkward situations.

But those have paled in comparison to the risks I've taken with my heart.

I've prayed risky prayers. I've been more authentic in the moment. I've wrestled with truly forgiving my wayward husband.

And as I look toward the horizon, there is a lot that makes me very nervous.

Like the six week ministry fundraising trip I'm embarking on this spring. By myself. It feels incredibly daunting after always having a wingman (who was also the extrovert and public speaker of the two of us).

I signed up for a half-marathon. Which I fear will be a health risk more than anything else. But I am determined to cross the finish line no matter what.

And I'm going to continue risking big with my heart. Although it hasn't started getting any easier yet.

Your turn to check in.

How have you done with your one word?

I'd love to see us rally around each other to cheer one another on!

Done.

i'm sorry, Lord

Lord, I’m sorry for thinking You love me the same way others do. For assuming You’ll withhold affection until I’ve paid penance or until You’re “over” whatever I may have done.

For imagining that You hold me at arm’s length and invite me in only when You want to want me.

For thinking You view me through eyes of disappointment, seeing only how far I am from all I could be and should be.

For presuming You only love me because You have to and not because You want to.

For guessing You hold my mistakes against me, just as I do with myself.

For acting as though You think I’m discardable and unwantable.

For forgetting that You love me for who I am and not for who I can be.

Lord, I want to believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.

four-minute friday: something

Go. My brain is struggling to land somewhere I can four-minute about.

I've got nothing.

Because I shouldn't really soapbox about how much I resent the Snowpocalypse that has been kicking DC's butt all week. I mean, I don't even live there.

I can't explain the stressful few hours I had yesterday afternoon, most of it spent on the phone. On hold. And there really is no more helpless feeling than being left on hold for 45 minutes.

I won't bore you with the story of why I packed and unpacked and repacked all in less than 24 hours.

I can tell you I've got that Christmas Eve I-can't-sleep-cause-I'm-so-excited thing going on. And I won't even mind when my alarm wakes me up at 4:30 AM.

If you know how un-morning-person I am, you know that's a really big deal.

But it's so worth it.

So. Worth. It.

But that's all I can say.

So really, you should tell me something.

Anything.

Done.

are you tired?

As we started this new year, I became mindful of my tendency to wear myself out for all the wrong things. You see, I was reading along in Isaiah when I tripped over this phrase: "You have not wearied yourselves for Me, O Israel." I knew exactly what God was talking about. And I knew I was just as guilty as Israel was.

After over eleven years in full-time ministry, I know full-well what it's like to weary myself. I've put in the ridiculously long hours. I've juggled an impossible schedule. I've reached the point of burnout and lived to tell about it.

And as I fall in bed exhausted at the end of a long day week month year decade, my heart sighs, "I'm weary..."

If I listen closely enough, I hear God's voice, ever loving and gentle. "But you haven't wearied yourself for Me."

Without even realizing it, I've been wearing my exhaustion like a badge of honor. My demanding schedule and ever-growing to do lists became my identity. As if fatigue is the mark of an accomplished missionary.

If I'm most honest, I wearied myself because I thought my value lay in my productivity. I mistook accomplishments for significance. I bought into the lie that busyness is the telltale sign of successful leadership.

But while I was getting stuff done, and even---by God's grace---impacting lives, I was ultimately toiling for the wrong reasons.

The work of discipling young leaders in Africa is worth every ounce of my effort and energy. I want to tire myself out doing what I love. But I need to keep the motives of my heart in check. Wearying myself for some self-serving purpose is just plain tiring.

So as I look out over the horizon of 2010, this much I know is true: I want to weary myself only for Him.

Is this something you've struggled with? What are some practical ways we can keep this in check?

Originally a guest post on Catalyst's blog...

His nail-scarred hands

I just saw something in the Resurrection story that I've never noticed before. I don't know how I've missed this my entire life, but I did. Jesus died a horrible, brutal death on the cross. And then He was divinely and supernaturally raised from the dead.

He received the ultimate healing.

All of His organs and bodily systems were revived. Though His heart hadn't beaten for three days, it sprang to life again.

He was fully restored. Completely whole. Totally healthy.

But His scars remained.

We know because He showed them to His followers as proof that it was really Him, back from the dead. He even invited Thomas to touch His scarred hands and feel His marred side.

Jesus certainly didn't need to bear scars. The power of God that raised Him from the dead could have easily removed the visible evidence of what had killed Him.

So there must be a reason He chose to keep His scars.

I don't presume to know what that reason is.

But I can't help but wonder.

Maybe He kept His scars so I would know it's okay that I still have mine.