the treasure of Christ

You know all of Jesus' "the Kingdom of heaven is like..." talks? I've heard them a lot, so sometimes I stop hearing them. But the other day I heard one of them with new ears. I was reading about the guy who found the treasure in the field.

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field."

I've read that passage quite a few times in my life, but this time I saw something I'd never seen before. The man found the treasure and then hid it again. For the first time, I asked myself why he didn't just take it.

Selling his stuff and buying the field proved the value the treasure held for him.

It was worth more than petty larceny. It was worth all he had, and his actions demonstrated that.

Yes, he could have just pocketed the treasure, walked off with it and no one would have known. But he decided it was worth more than that.

Worth so much, in fact, that he hid it again, went and sold all his belongings, and then came back and bought the field.

He didn't buy the field for the field's sake. He bought it for the sake of the treasure.

The field had value only because of the treasure it held.

And I have value because of the treasure I hold---Christ in me, the hope of glory.

The treasure of Christ is freely mine for the taking, but if I truly value that gift, I will sacrifice to lay hold of it. To lay hold of Him.

Too many days I just pocket the Treasure. Or worse, I leave it buried.

I want my life to show the value I place on the Treasure that is Christ.

i'm talking to the devil

I had lunch with a friend a few weeks ago, and with tears in my eyes I told her I didn't know why I was having such a rough time. As we talked, she quoted this passage from Psalms: "He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support."

She reminded me that the enemy of my soul is ruthless.

He confronts me in the day of my disaster. He kicks me when I'm down. He comes at me from all sides when I'm feeling like I'm at my lowest.

I know she's right. I've seen it. I've lived it.

While there are many Christians who blame the devil for far too much, I know I don't blame him nearly enough.

I need to get better at recognizing his schemes.

I've got to realize sooner when he's attempting to steal, kill, and destroy in my life.

I need to catch on quicker when he sends my heart spiraling with false accusations.

Because I can't fight an enemy I don't acknowledge.

And though I've been fighting, I haven't actually been fighting against the enemy as much as I need to be.

So I'm gonna be talking to the devil more than usual today.

I'm gonna call him out for the thief and liar that he is. I'm gonna remind him of the truth God says about me. I'm gonna look him in the eye and declare, "Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise."

This battle's not over yet.

And I'm staying in the ring.

even greater things

I've seen God do some incredible things through me in my lifetime. He used a poem I wrote as a nine-year-old girl to bring my separated parents back together.

On my mission trips as a teenager, He spoke through my faltering words to lead people to salvation.

I've stepped out in faith for eleventh-hour financial provision, and had money miraculously show up at the last minute.

In my early years of living in Africa, I rubbed cataracts out of a woman's eyes.

I saw a man's leg grow out six inches as I prayed over him.

I pulled a lame man to his feet and watched him take his first steps.

I get goosebumps just thinking about the amazing things God has done. And I feel humbled that He's chosen to use me.

But it all feels like ancient history.

It's been a very long time since God's done something supernatural through me.

But I know it's not because He's changed.

I think somewhere along the line, I stopped believing Him for the miraculous.

My faith grew dim.

I got "busy".

And I stopped actively trusting.

But I want my faith back. I want to trust Him for the miraculous again.

I want to trust Him for even greater things.

That feels like a huge risk right now. My battle-weary heart is scared to hope, to believe.

But every mighty move of God in my life has required an act of faith.

And, Lord knows, I need Him to move mightily.

Not just through me, but in me.

So I'm asking Him to strengthen my faith and fill me with the assurance that He is trustworthy.

Whether He ever does another miracle through my hands or not, I want to live with heart-risking trust that He can.

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.

coffee talk: authenticity & faith

As I wrestle with the risk of being more authentic, I'm struggling to find the line between authenticity and faith. I grew up in churches filled with happy, plastic Christians.

They answer "How are you?" with "I'm blessed!"

They don't admit to being sick even when they are, saying instead that they are "healed in Jesus' Name!"

And though I can't judge their hearts, it always seems more fake than faith.

It seems like denial.

And hypocrisy.

The implication is that if things aren't going well with you, it's because your faith just isn't strong enough.

And that's crap.

But things can get out of balance the other way as well.

Under the banner of authenticity, a lot of people are just plain negative.

They complain. A lot.

They're always responding to "How are you?" with far too much information. They let it all hang out, even at times when they "shouldn't".

And they just chalk it up to being real.

So how do we balance faith and authenticity?

When is it time to be honest about where you're at and when is it time to speak words of faith?

Talk amongst yourselves.

risky business

I'm not the most daring person. I tend to lean toward comfortable and familiar rather than new and exciting. I usually order the same favorite meal anywhere I eat. I even describe myself as an "indoor girl".

I have done some things in my life that were adventurous. I whitewater-rafted the Zambezi. I zip-lined through an Alaskan rain forest. I pulled the cord on a bungee swing in Cape Town. I ate grub worms. (Okay, maybe that's not exactly adventurous. But it is pretty wild!)

And my bucket list includes a few more daring things I'd like to someday accomplish. But in general, I don't think many would describe me as a thrill-seeker.

So choosing to focus on risk this year feels, well, risky. Which, I suppose, was the whole point.

My choice to risk is all about active trust. I'm being intentional to trust God, others, and myself more.

I've already told you that I doubt myself more than I ever have before. But I have the Holy Spirit who guides me into all truth living inside me. I want to live like I actually believe that's true. I will get it wrong sometimes, this I know for sure. But I choose to trust the power of Christ in me and the discernment God's given me. And that can't happen without risk.

I know that trustworthy people will still, at times, betray my trust. Even the best of friends will hurt me. But I still want to risk more in trusting them. I desire to know others intimately and be known by them in that same way. And that can't happen without risk.

Trusting God more means exercising my mustard-seed-sized dollop of faith more than I have been. I want to actively rely on Him for strength and wisdom. I want to see Him work through me in greater ways than He has before. I want to trust Him to answer the silent prayers of my heart for the changes I desire in my own life. And none of that can happen without risk.

So I've decided to risk this year.

It's definitely gonna kick me in the pants in my relationships. And it's going to carry a lot of weight whenever I'm faced with a decision. And I've started praying for it, which is a risk in itself.

Trust is the Achilles' heel of my life, my very own thorn in the flesh. But I'm stepping into the ring by making the decision to risk more.

It's gonna make this year a whole different kind of hard.

But, once again, I choose the hard.

'Cause I'm risky like that.

Why did you choose your word for 2010? What are you doing to focus on it?

happy blogiversary to us!

Yesterday was my four-year blogiversary. I started blogging as a "let's see how this goes" way to keep a handful of friends and family updated on my life in Africa. But the opportunity to write personally in addition to all the writing I do for ministry made it quickly become a passion.

Then about two years ago, the Grit took on a life of its own.

It became the welcome mat that invited people into my life. I began developing real friendships. Conversations progressed from comments to emails. Then there were phone calls, and webcam chats, and even hugs.

Nobody was more surprised than I was.

And it surprises me still.

I have more friendships now than I ever have---real, raw, authentic friendships---and that blows me away. The sense of community that's been fostered here is one of the most unexpected blessings of my entire life.

My eyes fill with tears just thinking about how God's used you to carry me through this difficult year. I'm humbled and honored to call you friends.

I no longer blog simply to keep people updated on my life. And I certainly don't write just to throw words at you. Or to hear myself speak.

I come to the Grit for strength, support, encouragement, and community.

And I've never been disappointed.

Here's to you! Happy four years, friends!

turning the tide

A huge part of what we do at Thrive Africa is AIDS prevention. I love our strategy for combating HIV because I know we are making a difference. The fruit speaks for itself. And I don't mind shouting that from my blog. Because it's not a pat on my back, it's a pat on God's.

There are a lot of agencies focusing on the effects of the AIDS crisis--building hospices to care for the dying, establishing orphanages for the scores of children left parentless, and providing services to those infected and affected by HIV. I believe in the urgent need for each one of those things. But I also know if we don't start focusing on the cause of the AIDS crisis, we're going to lose an entire generation in Africa.

The vision God's burned into my heart is to mobilize next generation leaders to live God-honoring lives. The only thing that will truly turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic is lives transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Long-lasting behavioral change comes from the work of God in a submitted heart. So we teach thousands of students each week in public schools about the purpose God has for them and how to avoid getting HIV so they can actually fulfill that purpose.

Our reason for teaching students isn’t just to prevent them from getting AIDS. Our primary purpose is to lead them into growing relationships with God. As they grow as Christ-following leaders, they'll learn to make wise choices in every area of their lives.

You can learn more about our AIDS prevention program, how you can invest into Africa, and opportunities to serve with us on Thrive's website.

i am only one, but i am one

"I am only one, but I am one.I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do." -Edward Everett Hale

Everyone can do something in the fight against AIDS. Don't let the enormity of the task keep you from doing the something you can do.

Learn as much as you can, discover what you're passionate about, and throw your full weight into that passion.

• Discover which aspect of the AIDS crisis resonates with your heart. It will be different for different people, and that's okay! You may not know yet what you're passionate about in regards to fighting the AIDS pandemic. So begin by reading about the multi-faceted issues involved. Your heart will be gripped by something as you research. It might be orphan care, or medical intervention, or prevention/abstinence programs. Whatever it is, find your passion.

• Find an organization that shares your passion. Again, this may take some digging. But there are plenty of solid ministries out there targeting the various aspects of AIDS.

• Connect as much as possible with the cause/organization you believe in. The more you know and understand about their vision and strategies, the more you can be a megaphone for them.

• Interact with the organization and its team. Visit their website, comment on their blog posts, ask for specific prayer requests. Passion grows when you truly become part of something. Family members have the same blood in their veins. Join the family. Get the vision coursing through you till you bleed it.

• Use your voice and influence to promote the cause you believe in. You can do that through blog posts, sidebar widgets, twitter updates, and personal conversations. You could commit to a monthly megaphone day on your blog where you highlight different aspects of what’s being done, what the needs are, and opportunities for others to get involved.

• Be passionate about it. Anyone can plug something, but passion is unmistakable. People will know how much you really believe in what you’re saying.

• Pray. Prayer really does change things.

• Contribute financially to support the work that's being done.

• Get off your "but" and go. Drop the excuses and go see for yourself. Travel overseas to not only see the work in action but to participate in it. The best advocates are those who’ve been involved. And I guarantee it will change your life forever.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

What are you currently doing to help in the fight against AIDS? What are you going to start doing? What other suggestions do you have for ways people can get involved?

denying myself

Jesus said, "Deny yourself and follow Me." But instead, I've denied myself for everybody but Him.

I've sacrificed myself to follow my husband. To lead my ministry. For the sake of my family. For the love of my friends.

I've gotten really good at self-sacrifice. So good, that I readily throw myself under the bus to keep peace. I take responsibility for others' wrongdoing when they're not willing to own it themselves.

My life has been marked by the belief that I am third, which translates into putting myself last---always. I've spent my entire life apologizing for being me.

I've been denying myself.

But I haven't been denying myself to follow Christ.

I've been denying myself to follow others. To simply be seen, rather than invisible. To receive love. To avoid rejection.

And in doing so, I handed the reins of my life over to everyone around me. I surrendered the control of my life to others.

I'm tired of denying myself for all the wrong reasons.

I want to live surrendered. But I want only to surrender to God.

He is the only One worth denying myself for.

casting my cares

"Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." I know that. Cognitively. He cares for me. He cares about what I care about. I should cast my anxiety upon Him. All too often, though, I subconsciously take the word cast to mean the same as it does in fishing. I give it to God, but I'm still hanging on to the other end. As far as I throw it, as much as I give it over, it's still attached to me. Because I'm holding on tight.

"But I gave it to God..." I try to convince myself. Meanwhile I'm poised and ready to reel it back in whenever I want. And reel I do. I decide to take it back from God's hands. Which means I think it's better off in my capable hands than in His.

Oh to be so smug.

I looked up the word cast in the dictionary. When it's not referring to fishing, it means to get rid of, to discard, to throw off or throw away; to hurl or fling.

I need to let that sink in a bit. I need to let it sink in a lot.

When I give something to God, I need to hurl it at Him (He can handle the blow), get rid of it (forever), throw it off me (with as much vigor as I can muster). And then I need to leave it there. For good.

Sigh...

"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you..."

I'm trying...

[originally posted on this day two years ago]

i want to live free

I'm sitting here in Starbucks, puffy-eyed. My heart feels raw. Exposed. Tender. I just spent two hours crying like I haven't in a long time.

In a counseling session. Sigh.

When I first started going to counseling almost a year ago, I was so anxious about each visit. Now, without even really thinking about it, I start my sessions by taking off my shoes and pulling my feet up on the couch. I feel comfortable, even when we're tackling a difficult subject. It helps tremendously that I have a therapist I respect and love. I've said for a while now that if my counselor is the only reason God has me in Atlanta during this season, it's completely worth it.

Today's session was different than usual. My counselor led me in a time of healing prayer, asking God to help me face and then finally let go of the events that have deeply wounded my heart. And I'm not just talking about my husband's infidelity and abandonment. I'm also talking about childhood aches that have shaped my entire life.

It was hard, to say the least.

I cried. I forgave. I released. I surrendered. I asked the Lord to bring His freedom into the darkest corners of my heart.

I don't want to be an Indian giver. I don't want to take back what I've placed at His feet. I don't want to pick up again the burden of guilt and shame that He's taken from my hands. I want to live free.

I WANT TO LIVE FREE!

Sorry for yelling, but, well, that needed to be said loudly.

I don't know a formula for living wholly surrendered. I don't know the strategy to avoid taking back from God what I just gave over to Him. All I can do is continue to choose to live free. I have to keep making the choice to let go, to walk in forgiveness, to not embrace the guilt and shame that has become so second nature.

I'm praying for awareness. That I would recognize my old patterns the instant I slip back into them. So that I can, in that moment, choose freedom. Choose faith. Choose obedience.

This living sacrifice wants to stop crawling off the altar.

Because only in complete surrender am I fully free.

pageantry

I bet you didn't know I've been in a pageant. But not the kind you're probably thinking of. I've never strut around in a bikini and heels, or shown off some obscure talent, or publicly declared my desire for world peace.  No, I've never been in that kind of pageant.

My life has been a pageant of a different kind. One in which I've been crowned all sorts of things other than Miss America. I've worn banners draped across my chest that read:

Or how about:

I've walked around wearing those banners for far too long. They've shaped how others see me and, more importantly, how I see myself.

It's time to take them off and replace them with truth.

His banner over me is love.

coffee talk: exchanges

"They exchanged the truth of God for a lie..." And you know what? So have I.

• I've exchanged His truth that I'm loved freely for the lie that I need to earn it.
• I've exchanged His truth that He'll provide for the lie that I need to take care of myself.
• I've exchanged His truth that I'm free for the lie that I'm still in chains.
• I've exchanged His truth that He uses broken vessels for the lie that He'll only use me when I dot-dot-dot.
• I've exchanged His truth that I was made in His image for the lie that who I am just isn't enough.

What would you add to the list?

And how do we exchange them back?

new life

Nothing feels as it should today. I'm doing nothing I'd normally do and everything I wouldn't. Home feels far. And everything hurts. But I know this much is true: He is alive.

And while I don't know when the stone will be rolled away to let light stream into my grieving heart, I know it will.

Thank You, Jesus, for new life.

eyes to see and ears to hear

Mary Magdalene was overwhelmed and confused when she discovered the empty tomb. Her bewilderment only compounded her grief, and she collapsed into tears. As she wept, her risen Savior appeared and stood beside her, but she didn't recognize Him. She looked at Him; she even talked to Him. But somehow she didn't realize Who was right in front of her eyes. I do the same thing far too often.

In my ignorance, busyness, and sometimes just the emotions of the moment, I easily miss Jesus when He's standing right in front of me. I simply don't realize it's Him---ever present, ever speaking. My eyes can be so blind that I miss Him in painted sunsets and unforeseen provision. My ears can be so deaf that I miss His voice in familiar Bible passages and the words of a friend.

Mary eventually recognized Him. You know what finally opened her eyes and ears?

"Jesus said to her, 'Mary.'"

He called her by name. His voice---His tender, powerful, matchless voice---uniquely calling her name was enough to make her realize He'd been beside her all along. Her blinders fell off; her ears were opened. She saw. She heard. She knew.

I desire to see the Lord in expected and unexpected places. I want to hear Him in common and uncommon ways. I need Him to open my eyes and unblock my ears.

Jesus, say my name!

kingdoms of men

It shows up four times in a span of only forty verses, so I'm guessing God wants to make sure I don't miss the significance of this statement:

"The Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of men and gives them to anyone He wishes..."

-Daniel 4:17, 25, 32; 5:21

Leadership is always a gift. Always a stewardship. Always temporary. And I'm always accountable.

confessions of an adulteress

I’ve been so unfaithful. He has loved me faithfully, yet I’ve turned my back on Him time and time again.

I’ve chased love when Perfect Love stands before me, holding me in His gaze. I’ve chased joy when it overflows nowhere but His presence. I’ve chased peace when my completeness comes only from Him.

All He’s ever wanted is my heart, and I’ve kept it tightly in my own hands as if I could care for it better.

He is jealous for me, and all I’ve been jealous for is everything I think I’m missing out on.

Even as I’ve pushed Him away, His everlasting arms have never stopped holding me.

He’s been nothing but faithful, despite my faithless heart and wandering ways.

Even amid the adultery of my heart, I hear His tender voice calling. Seek My face. I lift my eyes. I want to see Him, and be seen by Him. Unashamed of my nakedness and brokenness, I want to see and be seen. Know and be known. Understand and be understood. Love and be loved.

Fully.

Freely.

Recklessly.

Relentlessly.

His compassion overwhelms me. His ever-faithful love consumes me. His mercy breaks up the unplowed ground of my heart’s back forty.

I am His.

Always have been; always will be.

He is mine.

And by His grace, my heart will stay more faithful to Him today than it did yesterday.

ht: Hosea

coffee talk: jesus' family tree

I've got a theology question. Now don't run away because you don't feel qualified to talk theology. I'm not looking for expert advice. I'm looking for honest thoughts. And I know you have those to give me. So I hope you will.

The New Testament starts out with the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew 1.

I've heard that referred to countless times to show the legacy of those in Jesus' ancestry: Abraham's great faith, David's man-after-God's-own-heart-ness, Solomon's wisdom. I've also heard it used to show the unlikely characters that God used in Jesus' family tree, like Rahab the prostitute and Bathsheba the adulterer.

I love all that.

But this is where I get hung up: The genealogy ends with "...Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ."

That's Joseph's family tree. And Joseph, while Jesus' earthly dad, wasn't His biological father. Jesus comes from Mary's bloodline, but not from Joseph's.

So how can Joseph's ancestors be listed as Jesus' family tree?

Any thoughts?

repost: reflection

We are called to reflect God's glory. Have you ever seen a body of water that's so still and smooth, it looks like glass? I have; it's pristine, beautiful, peaceful. And it perfectly reflects the sky above it and landscape around it, like a mirror.

That's the image I've always had when I think about my life reflecting the glory of God. But the problem is that I rarely feel like a smooth, glassy lake. My life---my heart---is much more tumultuous than that.

And then I realized something: God can miraculously use even the stormy sea of my life to reflect His glory.

He's not waiting for all the conditions to be perfect, for me to be smooth and ripple-free, or for the rhythmic waves of my life to cease. Nope. In fact, He gets even more glory when I reflect Him amid the strong currents and Perfect-Storm waves.

That means being able to pray things like ---

"In the midst of this sorrow and grief, position me to reflect as much of Your glory as possible."

"If You can get glory from my sickness, then go ahead and do it."

"Be glorified in me right in the midst of this situation and not just in my deliverance from it."

I'm working hard to get my heart to a place where I can do that. Where I can pray it, believe it, mean it. This much I know is true: God can leverage anything for His glory if I will surrender it to Him.

[originally posted 6/29/08]