Learning Humility

I've had to apologize for so many things the past few weeks.  So many things.  To myself, to others, and to the Lord.  What have I learned?  

1. I'm not perfect.  

And I never will be in this life.  I am being humbled by my sinfulness when it shows itself loud and clear.  Life will always be a battle of my sinful flesh against what is right.  The hope is in the fact that the battle has been won, and eventually, all things will be perfected as they were meant to be.

“So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me.  For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members.”  [Romans 7:21-23]

2. Other people matter more than my pride.  

If I have to become less so that others they know they matter, then that's what I'll do.  Problem is, it's really hard to admit you were wrong to people, especially when they've hurt you or you don't think they'll understand.  But humility is about putting those worries aside and doing what's right, no matter how it's received.  If I really love them and want them to know it, then I will have to come before them with humility, asking for forgiveness.

“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

    did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing,

    taking the very nature of a servant,

    being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

    he humbled himself

    and became obedient to death —

        even death on a cross!”  [Philippians 2:5-8]

3. The Lord deserves better than what I give Him.

Christ died once for all.  His love covers a multitude of sins.  He loves unconditionally, without ceasing, no matter how He is received.  He gets rejected every day.  I fail Him constantly and He loves me consistently.  He deserves a life lived to glorify Him, a life of humility and sacrifice.  So I have to come before Him, as a sinner, asking for His forgiveness.  It’s different with Him than with other people though.  With Him, I know He’ll forgive me and take me back, so there’s no worry in it.  It’s a freeing thing, to be able to come before the Lord in the midst of your imperfection, knowing He’s still going to love you the same.

You see, His love isn't based on us, it's based on Him.  So if I'm to love like Christ, then I guess I have to be humbled, putting others before myself no matter how they receive it.  I have to let people know they matter, even though I fail constantly at loving them well in the first place.  I have to care about them, even if they don't seem to care about me.  And this is incredibly difficult, and completely impossible, without relying on the love of Christ to fill me up.

So I'm sorry dear friends, for all of the ways I fail you.  I'm sorry for all the ways I don't love you.  I'm sorry for all the times I put myself before you and neglect you.  I'm sorry for all the ways I misrepresent Christ to you.  Please know that you matter.  Know that you are loved dearly.  Know that I care about you even when I fail miserably at showing it.  But ultimately, know that you are loved by the King, and no amount of love that people give you-or don't give you-can ever affect that.  It's because of Him that I am being changed.  It's because of Him that I want to care for the people in my life.  It's because of Him that I even have a chance at loving anyone.  Ever.

“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners —of whom I am the worst.  But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.”  [1 Timothy 1:15-16]

Paul said he was the worst of sinners.  I think he was wrong.  Because I'm pretty sure it's me.  Thank goodness Christ took care of that for Paul and I.  And for you too.  Because without Him, I'd have no hope at all for my life.  Without Christ, I'd be stuck in the horribleness of my sinful self instead of being changed and refined to look more like Him.  Without Christ, I wouldn't be able to come to you asking for forgiveness, confident that whether you give it or not, I will still be loved by the Lord.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.”  [Romans 8:1-2]

Long story short, I'm a sinner and I need a savior.  Every day.  Every single day.

World Race blog

Hey friends.  I've been posting a few of my blogs from my world race blog here as well, but I don't really feel like posting in two places all the time.  So in case you missed the memo, you can find me here now:

http://pattyreed.theworldrace.org/

Please please please feel free to comment and subscribe for updates and follow this journey with me!  Love you all!

Chosen

I hate making decisions.  I am always so nervous I am going to choose the wrong thing that I would rather just let other people decide for me.  I’m not even talking big decisions; I’m actually pretty level-headed with big decisions (with the exception of deciding to go on the World Race, but that’s a story for another day…).  The decisions I am talking about right now are the tiny insignificant ones.  What do I want for dinner?  What movie do I want to watch?  What music do I want to listen to in the car?  What cereal should I buy?

I know it’s absurd how hard these meaningless decisions are for me to make, but let me tell you why I struggle with them so much.  I don’t want to be disappointed with my choices.  I want to enjoy my morning cereal, thank you very much, and I can’t do that if I pick the wrong one.  So I debate and analyze and compare and go over pros and cons in my head until I finally land on a decision.  And you know what?  I usually enjoy my cereal.

This all sounds silly, but in all honestly, it means a great deal to be chosen.  Why do you think so many kids cry when they are picked last in gym class?  Obviously, my cereal choice doesn’t really matter that much, but knowing that I, a ridiculous messy human, have been chosen by the King of the universe matters a great deal.  It changes everything about who I am and what I’m about.

“For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight.  In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will—to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves.”  [Ephesians 1:4-6]

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be chosen.  I think being chosen means to be carefully picked out for some purpose.  Being chosen means you are wanted and desired, pleasing and acceptable to the one doing the choosing.  There is a great deal of love and security behind knowing that you have been chosen.  It means you’ve been seen as good enough to satisfy the purpose in which you were chosen for.  It means you are valued and seen as worthy.  So, to be chosen by the God that made the earth and stars and galaxies carries an incredible amount of weight.  I am wanted, desired, chosen by the King.  I have been chosen to be saved [2 Thessalonians 2:13], to receive an inheritance [Psalm 33:12], and to be adopted into His kingdom [Ephesians 1:5].  That’s an incredible identity right there.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light.”  [1 Peter 2:9]

Here’s the thing, along with being chosen comes a great deal of expectations.  I was chosen for a purpose.  I was chosen to bear lasting fruit [John 15:16], to be holy and blameless [Ephesians 1:4], to not belong to the world [John 15:19], and to be conformed to the likeness of Christ [Romans 8:29].  Hold up.  I don’t think I am the one He wants for all that.  I mean, I was never the one to be picked first in gym class, is he sure He knows what He’s doing?  Those are some lofty expectations for a puny little human like me. 

But I have been chosen.  It’s funny that the very thing that ascribes us a great deal of responsibility is also the thing that gives us the strength to rise to the occasion.  Being chosen calls me to be more, to rise up and meet the bar set for me, and it is knowing that I am chosen that gives me the faith and boldness to even reach for that bar—to run the race set out for me.  I serve a God that doesn’t make wrong decisions.  So if He chose me, He must know what He’s doing.  He must know that I’m not worthless.  He must know that I matter.  He must know there is more to me than I think there is.  He must know way more about me than I do if He is choosing me to be on His team.  And even beyond that, He must really love me if He’s willing to love me when I fail at all of those responsibilities.  And I will fail, because I am human and I am broken.  But I am loved by the Creator.  I am chosen despite my imperfection, for an incredible purpose.  I am adopted into His royal family and I get all the perks and all the expectations that come with it.  It won’t be easy, but I’ll take it.

So hello, nice to meet you, my name is Patty, and I am a daughter of the King.

Also, I thought of this after I wrote this, silly, but extremely applicable :)

The reason I'm worrying, and the reason I'm going to stop

Confession: I obsess over endings.  When I read a book or watch a movie I have a hard time enjoying it because I am too busy wondering how it’s going to end.  The anticipation kills me.  I hate the surprise; I wish I could just know how it’s going to turn out so I can stop stressing about it.  Who cares what’s happening in the middle, I want to know how it’s going to end.  The problem, however, is that when it’s over, I am always left a little disappointed.  Not at the ending.  In fact, I usually enjoy the way things end and I am typically relieved at how things turned out.  No, what I am disappointed in is the fact that the story is over.  Done.  No more adventure, no more emotion, no more intrigue.  It’s finished and I’m a little bummed because I was too worried about the ending to enjoy the whole story while I was in the thick of it.

Confession part 2: Every time I do anything that has to do with the World Race I get a little nervous.  And by “a little nervous” I really mean that I have a mini panic attack.  Every time I start thinking about it, I quickly try to distract myself from the reality of what these 11 months will mean for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, but I am without a doubt incredibly nervous as well.  And I am realizing that my worries about how things are going to turn out might cause me to miss the adventure.  But here’s the bottom line: I absolutely do not want to miss this adventure.

Tonight I sat in a WyldLife club of 300 middle school kids and listened to the camp speaker tell them about the cross.  He told them the best news they will ever hear in the entire lives—that Jesus finished the story.  He told them that Christ died for them so that they might know that they are loved, wanted, thought of, and known.  He told them that they don’t have to worry anymore because the God that loves them and knows them simply wants to be with them.  I don’t know if they realize the major spoiler they heard tonight, but they just got hit with the entire ending.  It is finished.  On the cross, Christ made it known how the Author always intended things to end—reconciled and redeemed.

You see, it’s ridiculous to worry about the end of the story because there is nothing anyone can do to change it.  The princess is going to get rescued if the author wants her too.  The war will be won by whichever side the author desires.  The journey will take as long as the author thinks is necessary.  There is nothing the characters can do about it.  They didn’t write the story.  And neither did I.

“All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”  [Psalm 139:16]

What matters is that my story has been written by the author of the world.  He knows the ending to this story.  Shouldn’t that be good enough?  Do I really need to know the ending if the ending has been written by the loving creator of the universe?  Do I really want to miss what’s right in front of me because I can’t handle not knowing how things will turn out?  Am I that faithless that I can’t trust that the Lord has things under control?

No.  I am going to start resting in all the truth that I’ll want to be bringing to people over my 11 months on the World Race.  I am going to try to live out all the things I want to be preaching.  I want people I encounter on the Race to hear the news that we are free, we are loved, we are not alone, we are provided for, and that there is nothing, and I mean nothing, to fear.  And I want them to hear that all this is true because it is finished.  So I’m going to start living as if that’s true, because it is.

So I am putting on my big girl pants and calling it quits on the worrying, because things will turn out exactly as the Author intends, and I have decided that I really don’t need to know any more than that.

http://pattyreed.theworldrace.org/

Runners Take Your Marks

Here it is friends, time to make my official announcement:

I’m going on the World Race.

11 countries.  11 months.  1 mission.

Some of you have been a part of this process from the beginning.  Some of you got the news after I’d made my decision.  Others are hearing this for the first time.  Regardless, it’s time to rally up all the support I can muster and begin seriously preparing for these 11 months that will likely change me in every way possible.

Let me begin by explaining myself.

What?  The World Race is an 11 month mission trip to 11 different countries spanning the globe.  I’ll be doing all sorts of mission work from manual labor and feeding hungry people to playing with orphans and doing evangelism.  I’ll be living the gospel.  I’ll be going to rough places that I probably won’t want to be in and pouring love out to people I would normally never interact with.  I’ll be getting on their level, feeling their pain, seeing their lives, getting to know their hearts, and hopefully leaving them with a glimpse of Christ.  Basically, God will be using me to do crazy things in rough places with people that need to be loved.

Where?  I’ll be a part of January route 2, which will include these countries:

Ecuador

Peru

Bolivia

Romania

Ukraine

South Africa

Swaziland

Mozambique

Thailand

Malaysia

Cambodia

The exact places I will be in those countries isn’t determined yet, and I might not even know until I get there, but the Lord will lead us to the places he wants to reach, and that’s pretty exciting.

If you’re interested, here’s the specifics:

http://www.theworldrace.org/?tab=routes&subtab=january-2013-2

When?  I’ll be gone from January 2013 through November 2013.  No, I can’t have visitors.  No, I can’t come back and visit you.

How?  I’ll be raising my support starting now until I leave, and probably while I am out in the field as well.  This is the part that makes me anxious right now, but the Lord will provide the means for this if it is what I am called to do.  And I believe—potentially with more certainty and confidence than I have ever believed—that this is in God’s plan for me.

Why?  What in the world could I possibly be thinking?  Let me tell you what I am thinking.  I’m not thinking.

That’s right.  I’m not thinking.

I’m trusting.

I’m believing.

I’m listening.

I’m obeying.

I’m going.

When I first heard about the World Race a few months ago I couldn’t get it off my mind.  I was taken aback completely and I spent hours researching what it was all about and pouring through blogs written by racers.  It’s nothing I ever thought I’d do and I didn’t go looking for it.  It took me by surprise and within a few short weeks I knew I was going.  After some serious prayer I made the decision to apply, with the knowledge that if I was accepted, I knew I would go.  It seems crazy and impulsive but in reality, I have never felt more secure in a decision in my entire life.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared of this.  A lot of things about this whole thing make me incredibly nervous and insecure.  But the bottom line is that I am certain this is something the Lord wants for me.  Right now.  And if that’s true, then my fear is not important.  It can’t drive my thoughts because God is bigger than that.  He is bigger than all the reasons I shouldn’t do this.  He is bigger than all the things I am scared of.  If this is what He is calling me to, then the only thing that really matters in that I obey and go.  So that’s what I’m doing, because I am learning that He really does know best.  He really does know how to protect me.  He really does know what I need.  He really does love me.  And He really really is all that matters.

So it’s crazy, but it would be crazy not to go.  It’s unexpected, but God’s plan is rarely predictable.  It’s scary, but if God is on my side, then what is there to fear?  It’s what I am being called to right now, and that’s all that matters. 

I don’t know what God will do in this, but he does.  I don’t know what my life will look like when I get back, but He does.  I don’t know what I’ll have to endure, but He does.  What more do I need really?

Here’s where you come in.  What I really need is prayer.  I need you to go before the Lord for me, if you feel so compelled, and ask Him to lead me.  Ask Him to protect me, guide me, grow me, use me, change me, help me, comfort me, and fight for me.  I have no chance of getting through this without being completely filled and surrounded by the Spirit, so I am asking you to help me in that.  Pray for my trip, my travel, my work, my team, and the people I will encounter.  Pray that every person I meet will leave me having experienced more of who Christ is because of how He is going to use me in their lives.  Pray that I can have the endurance to serve selflessly for almost a year.  Pray that I constantly see myself as completely His, and completely loved, that I might be able to pour out to those around me.

From now on, I’ll also be using a different blog through the World Race website.  I’ll still post here, but probably not as often.  For those of you interested, here’s where you can find me:

http://pattyreed.theworldrace.org/

Thanks for being in my life, friends.  Thanks for being a part of bringing me to this place in my life.

Moving On and Cleaning Up

I have two unpacked bags sitting in the middle of my floor.  They have been there for three weeks.  You know when you move and you try to pack strategically but you end up with a few boxes of just useless old papers and letters and potentially important things you aren’t sure if you still need?  That’s the kind of stuff in these bags.  I absolutely, without a doubt, more than I could possibly express, HATE unpacking these bags.  So there they sit, full of old things I don’t need, for weeks.  And weeks and weeks.  (Fun fact, when I was in college I had a bag of stuff like this that followed me all four years.  I took it to every new dorm room with the intention of going through it and never did.  For four years.  Can we say ridiculous?  Because that is totally absurd.)

Here’s the part that gets me though, I don’t want to unpack them.  Yes, I kind of wish my room was less messy.  Yes, I could use the space they are taking up.  Yes, I might find some good stuff in there.  But I also might find some stuff I don’t want to deal with right now.  And my room will feel different when they are gone.

We’ve all got bags like this, it’s called the past.  Just like these bags, there is so much stuff I just don’t want to deal with.  So I let it sit there in the back of my mind, taking up valuable space.  Since it’s been there for so long, I’ve gotten so comfortable with all the baggage that I don’t really want it to change because life might feel so different without the mess.  I might be different having dealt with all of it, and change scares me.  Eventually though, those bags have got to go.  And so does my grasp on things that are in the past.

So I think I’ll finally unpack those bags and see what comes of it.  And I think maybe, if I can, I’ll just start letting go of the things that take up space in my brain.  I’ll just let all of the old stuff be behind me where it’s supposed to be.  I think I’ll start accepting things I can’t change, and continue to pray for that very change to really happen.  I’ll solemnly wave goodbye to the things I don’t want to let go of (but need to) and leap into what’s happening right here, right now.

Father, I’ll be here where you have me, instead of all the places you had me.  Give me the heart to handle what’s real in the present, while remembering the ways you’ve changed me in my past.

The prayer I don't really want to pray

I am about to do something that's going to make you type-A people a little crazy.  I am posting this post, but it is chronologically out of order with the last post.  And I'm posting both at the same time.  Intentionally out of order.  I know, I know.  But I promise it will be ok.  What I am about to tell you is stuff that came before all that I wrote about in my last post.  So, my last post is a lot of stuff the Lord has done in me since all of this went through my head, but I think it is significant that you see that these are the things I was thinking approximately a week before I wrote the last post.  It's surprisingly relevant, and it's always cool to see how God is working and answering prayer and changing me in the very ways I am asking Him to.  So here is some stuff I was thinking and praying about before the Lord really hit me with all that strength and confidence you just read about.  And if you are really that stressed out about the order, just read them backwards.

A week or so ago, I came across this prayer in a devotional book I use occasionally.  Before reading what I have to say, however, I want you to read this prayer on your own, because it actually is pretty great.  Then, once you have your own thoughts, I can tell you what I thought of it when I read it for the first time.

“O Persistent God,

deliver me from assuming your mercy is gentle.

Pressure me that I may grow more human,

not through the lessening of my struggles,

but through the expansion of them…

Deepen my hurt

until I learn to share it and myself openly,

and my needs honestly.

Sharpen my fears until I name them

and release the power I have locked in them

and they in me.

Accentuate my confusion

until I shed those grandiose expectations

that divert me from the small, glad gifts

of the now and the here and the me.

Expose my shame where it shivers,

crouched behind the curtains of propriety,

until I can laugh at last

through my common frailties and failures,

laugh my way toward becoming whole.”

[Guerillas of grace, by Ted Loder]

Do you have your own thoughts?  Good.  Because I don't want to taint it for you with mine.  That said, this is what I thought the first time I read it:

Heck.  Freaking.  No.

Now, my entire reaction wasn't like that.  I was tracking with it for the first line or so...you can't really come up with any issues to "O persistent God".  So far, so good.  Then I read the next line, and the next, and the next.  As I am reading and praying through it, I started thinking, "Never mind, God, this sounds kind of terrible, I do not want to pray this at all, forget everything I just said please."  I mean seriously, I do not want to be pressured, deepen my hurt, sharpen my fears, accentuate my confusion, or expose even the tiniest little tidbit of my shame.  No thank you.  I'm good without that.

Then the Spirit started to convict me.

He does that sometimes.

It gets a little annoying.

So I started thinking, what sort of relationship is only made up of good, happy, fluffy, pretty things?  Am I taking only the good parts of what it means to be a Christian and leaving behind everything that would bring me depth?  Just because I'm scared of getting all raw and gritty?  Just because I am scared of being real?  Do I really have that little trust in my God that I would trade depth for a pseudo-happy-go-lucky-everything-is-fine-all-the-time type of faith.  Because that's not really faith at all.  That's not what my God is all about.  And that certainly is not what I want.

But I'm still human.  And I don't want to be broken like that either.  So I realized I need God to deepen my faith and alleviate my fear, that I might pray that prayer with confidence and boldness, knowing that whatever might happen, the ways in which I will be changed and the ways in which I will see God more fully are worth more than simply being comfortable.  I don't want to be comfortable, I want to be radical.  But I still want to be comfortable.  So I need some faith.  Because He is more important and I want all of Him, not just the fluffy stuff.  Because that's what love is, and that's how He loves me everyday.

For the record, this is not what I want my relationship with Jesus to be like (however this guy is awesome and this is what I thought of almost immediately when I typed the word "fluffy" up there):

I dare you, come at me.

Question.

What makes you stronger?

Is it hard work?

Is it perseverance?

Is it being challenged?

Is it a good attitude?

Is it the ability to compartmentalize?

Is it patience and being worry free?

Is it bench pressing 5 trillion pounds?

What if I told you that my weakness is what makes me stronger?  That the weaker I get, the stronger I get?

You might call me crazy.  I mean, by the very definition, that makes no sense at all.  They are opposites, weakness and strength, you simply can't be both.  A year ago, I might have agreed with you. But now, after a year full of experiences (a year full of rather hard experiences), I'd have to challenge you.  Sometimes, my dear friends, things simply don't make sense.  And it's taken me a long time, but I have finally learned that that's ok, things don't always have to be logical.  So let me share with you the story of how I got here.

Recently, I've been praying a lot of prayers.  Praying doesn't seem to do it justice.  It seems to quiet and passive a term, though I know it shouldn't.  No, what I've been doing is pleading.  I've been begging God for His patience, perseverance, and grace.  I've been begging Him to change me, save me, and bring me closer to Him.  I've been begging Him to root me in Him deeper and deeper and deeper.

You see, I've been so deeply aware of my sinfulness that I am becoming more and more aware of how much of a miracle it is that I even know Him at all.  I've been so aware if my sin and so desperate to see change, but so assured that I have no control over any of it.  I can't fix myself.  I can't save myself.  I can't discipline myself into perfection.  This sort of realization can leave a person feeling helpless and hopeless.  This can leave a person scared.

So I'll be honest, friends, which you all know is my most favorite thing to do (if you didn't hear the sarcasm there, you don't know me well enough), and I'll tell you I've been scared. Yep, you heard me. Scared.

Scared that at any moment I could break.

Scared that at any moment I could just slip through the cracks and lose everything.

Scared that at any moment I could make one wrong choice and go into a tailspin.

Scared that I simply can't handle any more struggle.

Scared that at any moment I might just choose to give up fighting the good fight and opt out for the easy road.

But then there's grace.

And it changes everything.

Because I've been pleading.  Pleading for God to make me solid.  Pleading for Him to root me, deep and unmovable, in Him, that I might stand firm.  Pleading for Him not to give up on me.  Pleading for Him to not let me go.

And it occurs to me, He's never not been doing all of those things I have been asking for.  I am seeing that every struggle, every pain, every hit is only rooting me deeper and stronger in Him.  Every time I break, I become more solid, more sure, more His.

It's funny, now that I think about it, that the very things the enemy intends for evil, God redeems.  All the ways he tries to break me only make me stronger in the Lord.  The ways he tried to pull me away only push me closer to my God.

It makes me feel a little sneaky, like I've been let in on some big cosmic secret.

My God is a God of redemption.  My struggles are not meaningless.  He does not merely help me get through them and make me feel better.  No, He uses them.  He redeems them for good.  My struggles are crucial blocks in what He's building me to be, and I need Him to keep building me.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."  [Romans 8:38-39]

I feel like I've reached a point of confidence in my faith, and in God, that I've never had before.  (And let's be serious, the word "confidence", is not a word commonly used when talking about me, so this is kind of huge). Nothing can take me from Him.  What's His is His.  He plays for keeps.  The fact that I am His will never change.  Someone told me once that I should never use the word never, because it was too strong a word and I had to be really really certain I meant it.  (If I recall, I think The Biebs also mentioned something about never saying never...).  So let me say it again so you get just how serious I am about this.

The fact the I am His will NEVER change.  Period.  End of discussion.

So, come at me.  Go ahead, just try to break me.  I dare you.  Because it only makes me stronger and I am beginning to welcome anything that God can use to let me know Him more.  Because I am His.

Also, this is one of my most favorite songs in the world.  And it applies here quite nicely.

“So tell me why I should run for cover

At the sound of the coming thunder

All I hear is the cry of my lover

So take your shot

I won't turn back”

-“Won’t Turn Back” by NeedToBreathe

Psalm 139

How precious to me are your thoughts, O god!  How vast is the sum of them!  Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.  When I awake, I am still with you.  [Psalm 139:17-18]

I never understood this passage.  I have said it and read it over and over.  I memorized the psalm for goodness sake.  But I never understood this part.  What thoughts?  Why are God’s thoughts precious to me?  I don't know what god is thinking, and why do I care that he has a lot of thoughts?  And what does being with him have to do with any of that?  One thing that continually astounds me about the god I love is that he can take something that I have heard over and over and in an instant change it's meaning to me forever.  I used to gloss over is passage, just breezing over it because I didn't really know what it meant and It simply didn't stand out.  But the other day the Lord put this psalm in my path once again and changed how I read this, and how I see Him.

I won’t lie, my first thought when I saw that Psalm 139 was the passage I was supposed to read that was that I might as well skip reading it because, since I have it memorized, I clearly already know everything there is to know about this passage.  God can't possibly teach me anything new from it right?  Wrong.  I mean, seriously.  Could I be any more arrogant?  I decided I would read through it anyway and ponder it a little, trying to pull out pictures of intimacy from it, since that was the theme of the bible study I was doing that day.  It makes sense that they picked this psalm to go with that theme, there are so many parts of this psalm that show how intimately God knows us, but for some reason, on this particular day, the Lord chose to reveal his Intimate love for me in these words.  These words.  The ones that had meant nothing to me thus far, even as I had spent so much time in this passage over the past couple years.

We, as humans, want to know we are loved.  And part of this includes wanting to know we are thought of often and missed when we aren't around.  We want to know we are wanted, that we matter enough to be longed for and adored.  As I read this words, it was like the Lord was saying to me, so incredibly clearly, "Oh hey Patty.  You know those thoughts of mine that you are reading about?  Did you know they are all about you?  There are so many wonderful thoughts I have of you, my dear.  Hundreds and thousands and millions of beautiful thoughts of you because I love you so dearly.  I know you better than you know you, and I love you.  You are always with me, always on my heart, always on my mind.  I long for you, and I delight in you.  I will celebrate the day that finally, after so much, I get to be with you forever."

I was astounded.  We all want someone to say that to us, to be so in love with us that they can’t get us off their mind.  I am no different.  But as I walked and pondered this psalm, I heard the God of the universe declaring that love for me.  I have it right here in writing, it’s no lie, I am loved by the Lord, the God of the universe, the Creator, the Mighty King.  Naturally, being the self-centered, unbelieving sinner that I am, my first thought was, "Why in the world would He want to love me?” But this passage isn’t about me, it’s about Him.  It’s a declaration of how deeply He loves us, longs for us, knows us, and loves us.  It’s a picture into the very heart of God.  And His heart is full of deep and beautiful thoughts of us.  Us.  His lovers, His created, His children. 

Being in love with someone that does not love you in return is brutal.  But intimacy with God is mutual.  It is not one sided.  It is not us humans begging an unreachable God to notice us.  No, it’s a mutual desire to be with each other.  We long for Him and He longs for us as well.   He wants us there with Him just as much as we want to be with Him.  That's why He died for us.  That's why He conquered death.  That's why He bridged the gap.  That's why He rescued us.  And that's why He blesses us so abundantly with life and love.  He desires us.  He longs for us.  We are on His heart and mind.  He does not withhold himself from us, He wants to give us all of himself, in every facet.  And He longs for us to give ourselves to him without holding anything back.  

Along with this psalm, I read an excerpt from a book called The River Within by Jeff Imbach.  In this excerpt, Imbach references a book called The Art of Intimacy.  Imbach writes,

“According to the Malones, intimacy is distinguished from closeness.  The word intimacy is derived from the latin word intima, meaning “inner” or “innermost,” and carries the idea of being in touch with our inner selves.  It does not focus on the feelings of warmth or the awareness of similarity.  Intimacy is the art of bringing our true selves into the relationship.”

Intimacy with the Lord is exactly what intimacy should be.  It is deep and fulfills a longing in us that we can't satisfy any other way.  The God who created us and knows us and loves us is the only one that can bring us into that intimacy, the only one that can bring out who we truly are as we go deeper into knowing who He truly is.  He knows us better than we know ourselves, and he loves us more deeply than we can even fathom.  We desire intimacy because we were made for it and because God is calling us into that intimacy with Him.  It's the deepest and truest intimacy out there, and all He wants to do is love us.  And all we have to do is let Him.  He brought Himself directly to us, to be with us, and He changes us to become who we were always meant to be.  It is in Him that we really find ourselves and experience the One that knows who we are, down to the deepest depths of ourselves.  That, my friends, is what intimacy is.  That is what we were made for.  That is how our God loves us.

My dodaddy is the coolest.

I want to introduce you to my dodaddy.  Some know him as Lew, to others he is dad, all of my cousins call him granddaddy, but he was my dodaddy.  I’m not sure where I came up with that name, and I’m sure it was just as weird for him to be called that as it was for me to call him that, but he returned the favor by calling me Patty Poo and neither of us ever cared that it was strange at all (and for the record he is the ONLY person that has ever been and will ever be allowed to call me that, so as long as we are clear on that, we can move on).  So, if you care to listen, I'm going to tell you about him.

He played cribbage.  And I don't care how many dollars he lost to my dad, I would always root for him.  It didn't matter how bad he was losing, I was always sure he would pull through and win.  And I was always insistent that he was a better cribbage player than my dad, much to my dad’s dismay.  Dad, let's be serious, he was a kick butt cribbage player, and it was your butt he was kicking. And you loved every second of it.

He ate ketchup on everything.  And I mean EVERYTHING.  I don't really know why he bothered taking time to pick out his meals, because they probably all just tasted like ketchup.  This used to make me crazy, but eventually it was just funny.  At least he knew what he liked.

Sometimes, he would burst into song.  I never knew what the heck he was singing, but I found it hilarious.  It's just one of those awesome quirky things that old people do sometimes because they've lived long enough to know that it really and truly doesn't matter what other people think of you.  It's pretty funny when you are in a crowded elevator and your grandfather just starts singing—not quietly—and everyone glances around at each other wondering what the heck is going on.  It's hilarious.  Maybe I'll try it sometime.

He loved Disney world.  I don't know why this always astounded me so much.  Maybe it's because he never did too much there, he would just sit and wait for people to get off of the rides he didn't want to ride.  I never understood why he would think that it was so fun, until I grew up and became a little more like him.  I've actually spent time thinking about this, because it really did baffle me so much, so here are the theories I have come up with as to why he loved Disney world as much as he did.

1. He enjoyed watching other people have fun.  Whether it was a small child running around pretending to be Mickey Mouse, or his own children laughing over the dinner table, he found his joy and pleasure in other people’s joy and pleasure.  I think this is a hard thing to find in people these days, and I admire him so much for that quality.  This is essentially the definition of living for others instead of for yourself, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

2. He enjoyed his family.  I think he was proud of the people he raised.  He was proud of his family and he loved being with us.  He knew that being surrounded by people he loved and loved him was far better than riding a thrill ride, and he was happy to know that he would be waiting for us when we got done.

3. It made him feel like a kid.  This doesn't need much explaining, everyone feels like a kid within a few minutes of being in Disney.  And let's not lie, it's pretty excellent.

4. The love of his life loved Disney.  This is probably the biggest reason he loved it too.  That said, let me tell you the most important thing about my dodaddy.

He was married to my memomma (seriously I have no idea where I got these names).  And these past two weeks as I have been remembering him, it struck me how much I have also been remembering her.  At first that seemed odd, shouldn't my thoughts be focused on him right now?  Shouldn't he be the one I am missing and remembering and mourning?  Then it occurred to me that it makes total sense that my thoughts of him would lead me directly to thoughts of her.  So much of who he was, even in these past years since she has been gone, is wrapped up in her.  The two of them were a team.  They built a family out of a love that I envy, the kind of love I hope to experience in all of its richness one day (however I have a feeling it's pretty rare).  One thing that I have been overwhelmed with lately is how grateful I am to be a product of that love.  I owe a great deal of who I am to the two of them.  They chose to love unconditionally the people in their life, and they were darn good at it.  Without them, I wouldn't exist.  Without them, I wouldn't have the loving family that's do.  Without them, I might know a great deal less about what love really looks like.

This next little tidbit is probably my favorite, though it must be noted that it used to be my very least favorite thing about my dodaddy.  Without hesitation, he tried to set me up with every eligible male within an acceptable age range.  And I am really not exaggerating on this one.  My older cousins can attest to this (and let me tell you they were very happy when they finally got married and the torch was passed on to me, thanks for the solidarity ladies...).  From the next door neighbor, to the waiters at the restaurants we would go to, to the grandsons of his friends, he tried to set me up with them all.  Now, up until recently this was extremely annoying and slightly stressful.  However, these past couple weeks I realized something that I had never quite thought about before.  My dodaddy had a wonderful, long, committed, and loving marriage.  I really am not lying about their relationship just so I can say nice beautiful things now that they are gone.  They really and truly did have something rare and beautiful.  So it makes sense that he would want his precious granddaughters to experience the same love that comes from a relationship like he did.  So in his own way, it's like he was telling us just how valuable and wonderful he thought we were and just how much he wanted good and beautiful things for us.  In that light, I look back on all those awkward moments where my dodaddy asked waiters if they were single then pointed across the table at me, and I can remember them and smile, knowing how much I meant to him.  I only hope he knows how much he meant to me too, and something tells me he knew.  Because I am fairly certain he knew me pretty well.

He really was a good, strong, loving man.  And I'm not just saying that because it's what you do when you remember people and try to honor them.  I'll miss him, just like I miss her, but I can remember them with joy, knowing the lord made me a part of their family for a reason, knowing I am different because I am theirs, knowing that they knew how to love deeply, and knowing they left a lot of that love behind.

Tethers

When people ask me about my job, I typically tell them that I hang out in trees all day.  Today was one of those days, meaning that I was stationed on the high ropes course for 2 classes in the afternoon.  One of the things we do during the "upload" (which is what we call the time where we give instructions) is tell the kids what they should hold onto while they are out on the course.  My particular phrase usually sounds something like this, "So while you are on the course you can hold on to these wires above you, you can hold onto your tethers, or you can hold on to nothing.  If you choose to hold onto your tethers, the higher you hold the more stable and secure you will be, if you grab on down lower, you might feel wobbly and unstable."  Now, we don't have a script, but after you give these instructions a few hundred times, the speech starts to get memorized.  So I say those same words, almost exactly, every single time.  Seriously, I sound like a robot.

Nothing was different about today on the course.  I gave the upload like usual, except this time, when I said those words, something hit me.  I'm not sure what exactly, but I do know that I stumbled over the next few lines of instructions because my brain was going on a journey.  A new adventure that those words had never brought me into before.  Today, for some reason, those words did something to me.  So much so that my mood was instantly changed and my heart was at rest, no longer feeling stretched and strained and twisted like it does so often these days.  I heard myself say those words and in a fraction of a second this is the train my thoughts traveled away upon.

I wondered how different things would be if I took my own advice, holding on as high as I possibly could.  Not to my tethers, the ropes course is something that doesn't scare me in the least, but to God.  He is what is going to put my heart at rest and He is the only stability and sanity that is going to last.  What if I held on higher and higher, letting Him be my security?  What if I stopped trying to balance myself and simply reached up high, just like He calls me to do?  So often I try to figure things out logically.  I want answers and reasons and plans and explanations that make sense.  I want to fix things and I want control.  But what if I did what I ask these kids to do every day?  What if I stepped out in faith, grasping onto those metaphorical tethers as high as I possibly could, and just let myself go?  Leaving logic and reasoning behind, what would happen?

It amazes me just how much God can teach me in everyday things.  Today He reached right into what is probably one of the most mundane and repetitive things that I do and called me to Himself.  He used words I say every single day to penetrate to my very core, dealing with the instability and chaos that has defined my emotional life recently.  The higher I hold, the more stable and secure I will be.  Such simple words, but such deeply profound truth!

Running Away

Some of you know that I am currently applying to grad schools, some of which would move me across the country.  Now, while this might have terrified me last year, I am actually really excited about the idea of going back to school and having a new adventure in a new place.  I feel like the Lord is revealing more of what I was created for and leading me on to new things.  As with any change, this will mean leaving some things behind.  Some things will be sad to leave, while others I will be more than happy to put in my past.  The other day I was talking with a friend about this very thing, mentioning that there are certain things that I can’t wait to get away from, when he asked a question that struck me:

“What are you running from?”

Initially, I assured him I was not running away, just moving on and letting go of my life as I know it right now.  But it got me thinking, am I running away?  Which got me thinking, how would I even know if I’m running away?  What’s the opposite of running away?

This is what I came up with.

I think the opposite of “running away” is “claiming your freedom”.  And I think the defining factor that makes them different is the presence of fear.

Running away is what you do when you are scared or angry, which often comes as a package deal.  It’s what you do when you are afraid of the problems and messes you’ve gotten yourself into—when you don’t think you can stand things as they are anymore.  It’s what you do when you feel hopeless and out of answers, or when you think you’ve been wronged and you feel hurt and unloved.  It’s what you do when you realize things aren’t as they should be and you don’t know how to fix them.  You do it when you feel guilty and beyond repair.  We run because it’s easier than stinking around and dealing with the reality.  We run because we are scared.

Running away doesn’t require us to face our problems and it doesn’t include any sort of reconciliation or restoration.  There is no change, no closure, and no healing.  Running away is about what you are leaving, not what you are going to.  It centers on what was, not what will be.

Very similar in appearance is the act of claiming your freedom.  While it looks the same on the outside as running away (leaving one place or job or relationship for something different), it is entirely different in almost every other way.  It’s what you do when you are being called to something new—when you want to see change happen.  It’s what you do when your life is changing and you have to change with it.  We claim our freedom when we realize we are not what we were created to be and we desire to become those people.  We claim our freedom when we see that we are still living enslaved to things that we think still own us.  We claim our freedom when we realize we are free.

Claiming your freedom changes the current state of things.  There is closure and finality on the life we had and anticipation for the life we are moving into.  Instead of fear, claiming your freedom is restful.  It moves us to a new adventure, closer to becoming the people we were created to be.  It is fulfilling and life-giving, not littered with pain and brokenness.  Claiming your freedom brings healing to the past and changes your heart.  Claiming your freedom is about what you are moving on to, not what you are leaving.  It centers on what is and will be, not what was.

Do you see the contrast?  Do you see that you are free?  Do you live in that freedom, or are you running from something?

God does not have us run from problems, He has us face them and deal with them.  He did not run from the cross, He finished the job.  Moses ran from Egypt in fear, but God had him go back to free his people, and then leave again—but this time he left in freedom, not in fear.  Jacob returns home to meet Esau, returning to the land he was meant for.  None of these were the easy way out.  All of them involve struggling through hard situations to get to the point where people could be free and fulfill the lives they were meant for.  And all of those people had to have a great deal of faith and trust in the Lord.  They had to follow His leading.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”  [2 Corinthians 3:17]

That’s the other part of this, I am realizing that freedom requires following the Spirit completely.  Without that, we are trying to control things.  Without that, we are running scared in our own self-centered world.  But the Lord leads His people into freedom.  He does not settle for the easy way out, avoiding the harder situations and problems, but instead leads His people through the dessert—for 40 years—to freedom.  He doesn’t say it will be easy and He doesn’t say it will always be happy, but he leads us to freedom.  And I am learning over and over again that true freedom is infinitely better than any temporary comfort you could attempt grasp for yourself.

“For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.”  [Romans 8:2]

So I haven’t decided yet if I am running away or taking hold of my freedom, maybe right now it’s a little bit of both.  Either way, God is gracious.  He will lead me into the freedom He bought for me whether I understand the road I am on or not.  He is not going to let me run scared while I refuse to deal with things that need to be dealt with.  And He will free me from those things and lead me on into His goodness and love.  This is the God I serve—a God of freedom and relentless love.  I have already been set free, all I have to do is claim it for myself and leave the fear behind.  You are already free, my friends, claim your freedom.

Group Work

When I was in school there was one statement I dreaded hearing my teachers say: “This assignment will be done in groups.”

Oh. No. I would rather sit outside in freezing rain eating dirt with a plastic spork while chickens pecked at my eyeballs than do a project in groups. Oh the suffering I was going to have to endure! Why in the WORLD did they think this could possibly be a good idea!?

Now, I realize a lot of people liked group work. Ideally, it meant less work for each individual person. Notice I said “ideally”. When I heard the words “group work” I was far from optimistic. Group work inevitably meant that either I would have to do everything myself, leaving me tired and frustrated, or another group member was going to decide their ideas were better and take over completely, leaving me in the dust. I didn’t like being frustrated and dust is gross. So, naturally, neither sounded like a good option to me. You see, I was under the impression (and I don’t believe I am alone in this) that I was the one that had to have the good ideas. When I had good ideas, I assumed that my plans were best and I was going to fight for them or refuse to take any ownership of the project at all. When I didn’t have good ideas, I felt like a failure and a disappointment. Becoming a part of another person’s good idea and working hard for it didn’t even seem like an option. Group work meant either having full control or being completely useless, and I hated both.

Bear with me and switch gears for a second. Currently I am reading a book called 66 Love Letters by Dr. Larry Crabb. Essentially, the book is comprised of 66 chapters that coincide with each book of the Bible and talk about each as a love letter from God to man. He writes the book like a dialogue between himself and God; asking questions and writing the answers he feels God is speaking to him, fitting each book into the bigger picture of God's plan for us and the world. Also, when I say I am reading this book, what I mean is that I am reading it in conjunction with reading the Bible from cover to cover, so I am reading it very slowly. So slowly I am pretty sure I just got lapped by a snail eating molasses. However, I am excited to read it like this, even if it takes months to finish. I am telling you all this because I just finished reading Genesis and Dr. Crabb’s first chapter of his book (I wasn’t kidding about being a slow reader…) and he said something that sparked all of this jumble going on in my brain. In a section written from God’s perspective, Crabb writes, “Once again, things were a mess. Everyone was living to succeed , to make their lives comfortable and fulfilling. No one was paying attention to My design for the truly good life.”

After reading this line I immediately thought about all the times I’d felt like that before—no one paying attention to my (what I assumed were) good ideas. This was instantly humbling. Who am I to think I have all the good ideas in the world? Why should anyone listen to me? And I most definitely fit into that group of people that ignore His plans so often, so who am I to complain about not being heard? If I were to count the times I have lived trying to succeed, making my life comfortable, and ignored God’s design for life I am fairly certain I’d be appalled. As it is right now I am pretty humbled by this thought. You see, now that I think about it, it makes sense that I dreaded group work; that I neither wanted to have full control, nor wanted to be useless—I wasn’t created for either.

Looking back, I think I missed a crucial lesson that group work was supposed to teach me—everyone fills different roles. There should be a leader that steps up to take charge. There should be people willing to work to accomplish the goal of the group even when the ideas are not their own. And, ideally, the goals of the group (no matter whose initial idea) should eventually be adopted by each member as their own goals. We have been raised in a culture that tells us to fight for ourselves and be independent, but we forget that we are a part of a larger group. We forget the bigger picture. We believe the lie that we either need to succeed at being the leader or have no part in it at all.

But here’s the thing I am realizing, I was not meant to be the leader, nor was I meant to be a useless piece of baggage attached to the back of the train. As a product of this culture I have been told to do whatever makes me happy. As a Christian, I see that it’s not really about me at all. And that is so relieving. I was made to obediently follow a Leader and to adopt His plans as my own, with passion. I am a small part of the body of Christ and He is our leader.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” [Hebrews 12:1]

His love fills us with passion (we run with perseverance) and the desire to see His will come to fruition. By His grace, we get to fight for His Kingdom in this world. We were not made to be God, nor were we made to be useless. We are not meant to be in control (the race is marked out for us), but we were made with purpose. We are humble servants made out of abundant love that get to be a part of His larger story. This is what “group work” means for a Christian. This is the power of Christ—that we can fight fiercely for the goals and plans of another, for the glory of our King.

“In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory.” [Ephesians 1:11-12]