Cease from striving

Only six days into the new year and already the Lord is honoring my humble cry for Revolution.  No, walls are not rattling and rocks are not rumbling and men are not marching, but there's an uprising in my heart, because I asked The Lord to Resolve to do a new thing.

 

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Isaiah 43:19

At the turn of the year I refused to focus on external goals, but committed instead to surrender the wasteland places of my heart to the only One able to bring them to life again; to change and transform me from what I have been to what He has purposed.  And I feel this new thing springing up, I do!  How do I know?  Simple.  There is peace.  My heart is less constrained within my breast and my palms are lying face up.  Vulnerable, resting, upturned, and expectant.

There is no striving here.

It sounds like a simpleton's barometer to calculate the Holy Spirit's presence, but try it for yourself.  Open your hands.  Not necessarily in Praise, though that may come, but simply turn your palms up there in your humble lap, upon your worn jeans or faded yoga pants.  See how your heart ceases to push itself and slows instead to the rhythms of rest.

When I turn my hands this way it's as though I'm giving it all up, expecting better in return.  And my breathing slows.  And my striving stills.  Fingers gently curl around nothing and everything at once, and my eyes prick with tears. It's a Holy thing this vulnerable, upturned, empty-handed life.

There is trusting here.

I'm learning in the midst of this revolutionary nearness that Striving and Trusting cannot coexist.  They are light and dark.  They are polar extremes.  But so often, here in our Christianity, we think that one leads to the other. We think that striving leads to more faith, and that striving will bring us rest.  We think that striving will allow us to love God better, and that striving will allow us to love others better with His love.

But it doesn't.

Striving and Trusting will never coexist.

We strive to decorate His Name with our pens and with our invites, with our crafts and with our menus, with our volunteering, and with our eloquence... but we can only glorify His Name if we are dwelling, resting, abiding... in His Love.

Abide in my love. John 15:9

Here in the hollow of my upturned hands, where my life line and love lines cross, I find myself abiding.  It was not my New Year's Resolution, it was simply all that remained when I gave the year completely to Him.  These next 365 days are cradled in the hollow of His hand, and so am I.

Cease from striving.

And the miracle of all New Year's miracles, is that many of the resolutions I have made in years past are finding their way into my life.  I'm not striving for them anymore, but surprisingly there they are!  The laughter, the calm, the joy...

Striving must have made me mad.

I don't know how else to say it.  Striving must have absolutely worn me down and worn me out.  "I resolve to love better and be more patient..." and the striving for the peace left me wearier than before.  "I will laugh more and play with my children..." but the striving kept me busy so I never sat down.  "This year I will be in God's Word each day and memorize this and lead a small group there and bring a breakfast dish to our playdate each week..."  And suddenly all the fun and laughter has been crowded out with the striving and the going.

You need only to be still.

Our new year began with it's bells and sparkle, and snow falling just up the mountain from our home.  My husband said, "let's go," and because I was not consumed by my goals I said a simple yes, and began the crazy race to find snow clothes for three boys and a man and a woman.  And we went up the mountain.

What more could a woman want but room to live lives free from striving, that we might simply enjoy knowing that He is God together.    With upturned hands and resting hearts.

Abiding

Cease and Know

Abide and Grow

Slow and Low

for I Am God

Peace be still

resting 'till

you know my will

for I Am God

Stop and rest

against my breast

My Peace is best

Abide.

Abide in Love

Here in my Love

You are my Love

Peace, be still.

Transforming your New Year's Resolution into a Revolution

My Christmas guests have left. The boys are running errands with dad and I am undressing the tree and packaging our sweet nativity sets away for the next 11 months. These are my first quiet moments in weeks, with only the familiar holiday crinkling of tissue paper and jingle bells jingling as the soundtrack to my thoughts.  During the hustle and bustle of guests and going, little space remained for this sort of pondering.  But today, here in the quiet, I have 2015 on my mind; looking forward to new resolutions, friendships, hopes, the transformation I'd like to see in my own heart and behavior, and in the hearts and actions of my children.  

"As you wait attentively in my Presence, the Light of the knowledge of My Glory shines upon you. This radiant knowledge transcends all understanding. It transforms every fiber of your being: renewing your mind, cleansing your heart, invigorating your body. Open yourself fully to my Presence; be awed by My glorious Being." (Jesus Calling, December 25)

Here in the stillness of my home this morning I picked up the gift my father-in-law sent me this Christmas, Sarah Young's Jesus Calling, and read those words.  Then I read them again and thought, God's Presence is where transformation happens.

"Resolution" is a word too small for those of us who crave true transformation.  Resolutions only encapsulate habits, tricked behaviors, a list of goals that may or may not last. Resolutions take the muscle we bring and require work each day.  But my resolve each New Year rarely includes the holy waiting that penetrates hearts and leads to lasting change.

No, I don't want a New Year's Resolution this year.  The word came clear as I carefully wrapped each fragile keepsake:  I don't need another Resolution... I need a Revolution, way down deep in my fibers.

Revolution.

If you are contemplating resolutions in these last hours leading up to a New Year, might I suggest that "abiding daily in God's Presence" be top of your list? Because it "transforms every fiber of your being".  And when each fiber is engaged, invigorated and renewed... there begins a Revolution, an uprising so powerful that transformation happens from the inside out!

Resolutions happen from the outside, and we hope they make their way in.  Trips to the gyms, letters to friends, date nights with the man you exchanged your vows with , nightly stretching, and no more chocolate cake for breakfast (not that there's anything wrong with an occasional cake for breakfast!)

But you and me, we don't want to just change our habits, we're wanting to be made new in 2015, completely new in the new year.  And the desire for New is rising up from within, and so all those resolutions that will change our actions seems so small.

A revolution is explosive, bringing life from the thump-thump-thump of your tender heart.  All pent up from years of not doing it right - not thinking or behaving right - not having it done right to you, maybe for generations. And you rise up now, lift your banner high, and cry, "NO MORE!" Lke a country who has known oppression, threatening revolution.  You are ready to fight for freedom.

2015

The anger, the impatience, the hurtful rash words, the heavy sighs and lack of tenderness, the deep wounds... every bit of you, every fiber of your being, transformed. Every corner of your home, every nighttime stressful conversation with your husband that ends worse than better, every sibling squabble that turns unkind.  Every negative word you berate yourself with.

No amount of Resolve can change you.  I'm sorry.  But this isn't hopeless, this is real hope.  Because this is entirely what He can do in your life, when you bring all the sin tendencies and hurting places of your heart to the Creator of the Universe, the Creator of your innermost being.

"If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." John 15:7

Tomorrow is a New Year, and we're wishing and hoping and making our plans. But it starts here, right here. Abiding, remaining, tucking in deep to the folds of His robes, deep into the pages where His truth dwells active and waiting.

You want to be transformed? Here's where it happens: Abide in Him, He will abide in you, and there will be radical, real-life change in your life in the year ahead.

Revolution.

Resolve this year to do your part, planting the seeds of faith, turning the soil of your heart to the sun, that the Son might penetrate and cultivate and reap a harvest.  But also learn to wait attentively, for the miracle Revolution He's stirring up.  Anticipate.  Abide and Anticipate and do not grow weary.  Let His Light shine upon your innermost thoughts and emotions as you abide.  Make abiding your chief concern in 2015.  Each fiber is about to get reworked, renewed, invigorated, transformed, awakened to the real life giving Presence of a loving God.

Abide.

Enjoy the longing for Heaven this Christmas

“I do hope your Christmas has had a little touch of Eternity in among the rush and pitter patter and all. It always seems such a mixing of this world and the next–but after all, that is the idea!” - Evelyn Underhill

That is the idea, is it not?  The melodious earth base and tenor angel chorus, blending in harmonies beyond our understanding.  Living here now, longing for eternity.

It used to make me cry, the longing.  But today, at Christmastime, with my children happy and healthy and enjoying the rain coming down outside and the fire crackling and the carols playing, I am praying, "Lord, help me enjoy the longing.  Help me savor it like hot cocoa after puddle splashing with my children. Each sugary sweet marshmellow, every chocolate laden little boy kiss.  Help me savor it all.  Savor the now and the longing, all mingled together.  The present joy coupled with the ache we have for You and Your arms, Your glory-filled ever-after."

Here's my question:

Do you long for His Glory-filled ever-after in your happiest times or those most sorrowful?

I long for reprieve in the pain, but equal is my longing to discover and celebrate the One who blesses us with so much beauty.  I think the intermingling of these two is advent.  The Holy of Holies come down to dwell with us, Emmanuel, amidst it all.  The source of life, the source of strength, the well-spring of comfort and joy.

Where are you this Christmas season?  Deep in sorrow's bosom or overcome by beauty and blessings?  Wherever you find yourself... are you longing for Heaven?

Are you longing for Heaven this Christmas?

Expectant - a guest post

I was a very young woman when the realization came upon me, that this Christian life ought to be lived EXPECTANTLY.  Single and struggling with contentment, the word stuck.  In all the aches and crevices, I knew my God was kind, and deep within my bones I held the blessed assurance of His eternal nearness, and so, I came to expect good and not evil from His hand each day.  Even when I could not perceive the good I began to expect it.  

Expect it.  Expectant.

ex·pect·ant / ikˈspektənt/  (adjective) having or showing an excited feeling that something is about to happen, especially something pleasant and interesting.  (noun) a person who anticipates receiving something, especially high office.

It's an adjective, an experience, a way of life; living this way, with hope and sweet anticipation.  But it's a noun too, a person, with eyes upturned and heart inclined.

Expecting.

It is also the word we choose to describe a woman, getting ready to receive into her heart and home a newborn babe.

Expectant.

Today, I am pleased to introduce you to my friend, Julie Sanders, who has devoted page after page and prayer after prayer to this latter definition, the expecting mother.  However, today amidst the Christmas season, Julie is helping us each to slow down and take a lesson from Mary - the expectant mother of our Lord.

 Welcome to this Living Room space, Julie Sanders

No experience has the power to stir a woman’s hopes like that of becoming a mother. Whether she enters in through adoption, infertility, or traditional pregnancy, a mother learns to sacrifice her expectations for the gift of raising a child. Instead of being paralyzed by the sudden uncertainty motherhood brings, confidence can be found in knowing, “There will never be a time when our children are out of God’s sight or apart from His presence,” (from EXPECTANT, Calling the Shots). Every journey is unique, but every heart is expectant.

Her betrothal was still fresh when her expectations dissolved in the light of the angel’s arrival. To be old enough to be promised was to be mature enough to bear a child. Before Mary even had time to adjust to changes in her own body or warm up to the name “Joseph,” everything she anticipated fell away. There would be no joyous gathering of girlhood friends, envious of her new status. None of the other girls wanted to swell with a child before uniting with a husband.

At the first sign of a change, Mary was troubled and frightened. She had questions. Before she had time to learn the physical ways of womanhood or enjoy intimacy with a man, her body would be taken over for purposes bigger than she could conceive.  “And the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. ‘”(Luke 1:30)

Most of us have plans for this Christmas season. No one anticipates interruptions like job loss or a life lost. Unexpected events never appear on our wish list. Advent readings rarely dwell on our suffering. But when our expectations are erased and our decisions dissolve, God has the opportunity to display His grander plan. He takes our hand, leading us to unwelcoming inns, simple stable accommodations, and to exile in our Egypts. Our Father lets us glimpse the greater glory found when life encircles the Prince of Peace.

Motherhood causes our expectations to fall away. From the moment young Mary received her angelic message, nothing unfolded as she imagined, but she found the greater glory in God’s greater plan. “But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

We must hold loosely to our expectations, for Christmas will probably not be according to our plans. Let’s look for God’s greater glory with hearts that are expectant.

Father God, I want to treasure Your actions in my life that bring about the glory of being part of Your story. Help me hold my expectations loosely and welcome your better plans for me.

Julie lives where tea is sweet and grits are cheesy. She and her husband of 25 years have two nearly grown kids. EXPECTANT: 40 Devotions for New and Expectant Moms was born when God brought a group of young couples into their lives, just as they began to long to grow their families. Julie loves to teach God’s word to women in her hometown and across the globe; she is passionate about fighting human trafficking and helping women of all tribes and tongues find God’s peace for life. Check out Julie’s blog home Come Have a Peace  (www.juliesanders.org) and Marriage Mondays to find reasons for peace and information about her ministry. EXPECTANT is available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ComeHaveaPeace Twitter: @JulieSanders_ Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/juliesanders_/

Yellow chairs, turning forty, and putting on my big girl panties

The photographer asked me to stand, but I saw this yellow chair and knew I just had to sit.  

Yellow makes me happy, pure and simple.  

So I sat, and she snapped the shutter and caught my happy.

There's been a lot of happy since turning forty last April.  Not always happy circumstances, but amidst them all there's been this comfortable, I belong here feeling - wrapping me up like I'm my own present.  Finally, after 40 years of trying to fit, I suddenly do, right inside the lovely wrapping paper of my own skin.

I must be a late bloomer.

Or maybe we all are late bloomers, and maybe it's supposed to be that way.  Trial and error, figuring how to live a contented life this side of the veil.  If we came from the womb on the day of our birth with all this hard earned understanding, we wouldn't have needed the gracious nearness of a God who cares for us in our weakness.

I'd been weak forty long years.

Weak, and so desperate to be loved.  I worked at it like an artist works her clay, molding and rolling and massaging the lump, till it finds it's way into something beautiful.  That was me.  Working on being chosen, not knowing I'd already been.  But ignorance is a swelling sea, and the wave pushed me forward into adolescence, begging for approval.  Though I'd been approved by the King of Heaven Himself, I still looked around on the surface of this earth, hungry for the affirming smiles of this world.  Am I kind enough, pretty enough, good enough, smart enough?  Until I cried "Enough?"  That was the day I turned forty.

In the quiet spaces of early morning, on April 5th this year, with Morning Glory growing high outside my window, I heard Him say, "Wendy Joyce... It is time to put your big-girl panties on!"

I doubted The Lord's voice at first, surprised He'd use the word panties when speaking to the heart of a woman, but then it came again,  "Wendy Joyce... It is time to put your big girl panties on!"

Lord?

And in the hush of my quiet house, I slipped from the warmth of my bed and onto my knees and said, "Yes.  I want to grow up."

So I addressed my fears straight on and said, "You have no power over me anymore."  And the lonely holes, I pronounced them full.  And I thought of my Dad, who's only tried his best to love me well, and said, "I forgive you for not being perfect."  And I laughed because he's 70 and I'm 40, and it took me this long.  But it felt beautiful, so I kept counting.  All the people who seem to do things better, I wished them well in my heart.  And all the women suffering in my midst, I availed myself to love them better.  And to the causes throughout the world that made me weep, I wept.  And for the orphans and for the widows, I lifted up my hands and said, "Send me."

And every time a negative thought crept into my birthday morning praise, I whispered fiercely, "O Great Gardener of my Soul, eradicate that weed!"  And I saw his long and loving fingers work the soil of my heart, until no more dirty lies remained, tendrils coiling round the organ of my heart.  Until every bit was gone.  And God Himself was pulling the heavy-laden trashcan up the property.   I watched Him go then stood up from the floor, just as my husband rolled over and opened his eyes.

Happy Birthday.

When a friend of mine saw this picture recently, she commented, "Forty looks good on you!"  And I just had to agree.  It does.  Way down deep.

To all my friends who are turning forty this year... Happy Birthday.

May you find the courage to put your big girl panties on!

Unless you're a man... 

If you're forty,

or love someone who is,

share this post & tag your beautiful friends in it.  

Let's celebrate - Because the year's not over yet!