Take That, Gates of Hell

Feb8

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. I write for 5 minutes with no heavy editing and see what happens. To read all the posts for this week, click here.

In Matthew chapter 16 we are shown a dialog between Jesus and His disciples in which Jesus asks them who people are saying that He is. Some say He is Elijah, some say He is John the Baptist come back from the dead. That one never made sense to me since Jesus and John were alive at the same time, but I digress.

Jesus then asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter speaks up, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”

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Jesus applauds this statement, telling Peter that it’s not something he came up with on his own, but that was revealed to him by the Father. And then He says this, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18).

Note that: I will build My church. It’s not our job.

I didn’t think a lot about that statement until fairly recently when my pastor and I were talking about the religious climate in America. He reminded me that the church is safe. It may have to go underground, but the gates of hell will not prevail against it. He is doing the building. Not us. Not our great programs and beautiful buildings and charismatic preachers.

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No matter what, we don’t have to worry about the church, we don’t have to worry about Jesus, we don’t have to worry about the Scriptures. God can do that plenty fine by Himself, and you know what?

We know who wins in the end.

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My Word(s) of the Year: Let Go

Feb4

In a departure from my normal 10-Minute Tuesday post where I take a one-word prompt given by a friend and write unedited for 10 minutes on that prompt, I thought I would take these 10 minutes today and talk about my word(s) of the year. In 2017, my word was “obey,” and that’s the year we found out we were going to be grandparents via my eldest son and his girlfriend. I had no idea that “obey” would mean showing grace like I’ve never done before.

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In 2018, my word was “trust,” and that’s when our grandson arrived and we made good on our agreement—our obedience to the Lord—to watch him every day that his parents worked. Five days a week. Not a small commitment when you’re in your mid-50s, I gotta tell ya.

So, for 2019, the theme that seems to be presenting itself over and over is “Let Go.” Don’t carry what’s not yours to carry. In the Bible, in 1 Peter 5:7 (Modern English Version), it says, “Cast all your care upon Him, because He cares for you.”

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There’s very little that God wants us to take upon ourselves. You know that old saying, “God helps those who help themselves”? Not biblical. Nope. You won’t find it in the Bible.

Instead, many times over we are told to give Jesus our burdens. “Come to Me all who are weary and heavy laden,” (Matt. 11:28); several times in Matthew 6 Jesus says, “Don’t be anxious about tomorrow” (or your life, or what you will wear, or eat, etc.).

You get the idea. There are burdens we just aren’t meant to carry. As a mom, I can take way too much upon myself, and it causes a great deal of stress that can end in health problems if held too long.

My children are 22, 20 (in 12 days) and 16. Especially for my 22 year old who is a dad and lives with his own little family, I cannot and should not carry his choices, burdens, troubles, whatever. When I find myself worrying because they have had an argument, I lift up my hands and say, “It’s not mine to carry. Help them, Lord.” I am here if they ask for advice or help, but they need to do the adulting on their own.

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One child is waitlisted for housing on his college campus for next year. I could overwhelm myself with panicking about apartments. But it’s not mine to carry.

Another child is T-boned on his way to work and will have ongoing medical issues and hassles with insurance. I could consult everyone I’ve ever known who’s been in an accident and drive myself and my child crazy. But it’s not mine to carry.

Another child is Dissatisfied with the way friendships are being conducted. I have lots of advice I could give about that. But no, it’s not mine to carry.

Again, I am here to bounce things off of and give advice when asked, but the burdens are not mine. I have a very strong and capable heavenly Father who not only wants to carry these burdens, but to Him they are not even burdens at all, but rather opportunities for growing faith and ultimate direction that could be missed if I try to do it myself.

And so, for 2019, I will focus on this: Let Go.

 

Where Else Is There To Go?

Feb1

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. I write for 5 minutes on a one-word prompt. No heavy editing. I just see where it takes me. Today’s prompt is “where.”

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In the Gospel of John, chapter 6, we are told the story of Jesus feeding the 5000. There were actually more than that, because that was just the number of men. Amazing story. Truly incredible.

The very next story is about Jesus walking on the water. Wow. OK, so that’s pretty awesome.

After that, we are told of the hard things that Jesus told the crowd, and then things He said to His disciples alone. These things were so difficult, that John records “After this, many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him” (6:66).

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How heartbreaking that must have been for Jesus. They had just seen what He had done. In the next couple of verses, this conversation takes place: “So Jesus said to the twelve, ‘Do you want to go away as well?’ Simon Peter answered him, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God’” (6:67-68).

In other words, “Where else is there to go?” Jesus had said He was the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one could come to the Father except through Him. He was the bread of life. He was the living water. No one else had made the claims He had. No one else was offering eternal life.

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It was either walking with Jesus and having life and joy, or walking away into eternal sorrow.

Choose life and joy.

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Home, Sweet Home

Jan29

This post is a part of my 10-Minute Tuesday series. I write for 10 minutes on a one-word prompt, without heavy editing, and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “cross country.”

I have a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on my Discover Card, so I get to see it often.In 1991, my husband, David, and I moved from California to Florida. We were working as missionaries with Campus Crusade for Christ (known as Cru in the U.S.) and the leadership had decided to move our headquarters.

I wasn’t in favor of the idea.

IMG_8307I’m a Californian born and raised. All of my family lived no further east than Colorado. I was leaving everything familiar to relocate across the country. Even my husband wasn’t yet all that familiar. We’d only been married for 6 months.

But move cross country we did. The organization provided a moving company that packed up what we wouldn’t need in the immediate, we had both our cars loaded on to transports, and we headed to the airport in Los Angeles with my kitty in a carrier, drugs at the ready to keep her calm.

Only, we missed our flight, so the drugs wore off halfway through the trip. The stress finally got to me, and I cried there at the gate of the airport.

IMG_5453But, we made it to Orlando and found our way to our new apartment sometime in the wee hours of the night. We were starving, but this was in the days before there were so many restaurants on the road from the airport, so we couldn’t find anywhere to eat.

When we got to our apartment, we noticed that it was not the one the complex had promised us. The teal carpet gave it away the minute we walked in the door. So, we somehow camped out on the floor (the details are fuzzy after 27 years), my cat hiding behind the washer and dryer, and tried to get some sleep.

The next morning, we visited the office and notified them that they had given us the wrong apartment. After asking whether we could live with the teal carpet (no, it would clash with every piece of furniture we owned), we were relocated to a slightly bigger apartment with a lake view at the same price because it was their error.

Everything worked out and we lived that first year plus a few months in that apartment with the grey carpet and the lake view. And we have now been in Orlando for 27+ years. My parents have passed away, my brother is my only family left in California, and our 3 kids call themselves Floridians, though each one of them seems to think they were born for a colder clime.

Go figure.

I love my house, I love my church, I love my friends. I still long for California.

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If I could pick up everything that I have here (minus the humidity) and move it back to the hills of Oakland, I would do it in a minute. But that’s not where I’m supposed to be. Everything that matters is here in hot, humid, flat Orlando. I can allow myself to be discontent, or I can embrace my space and trust that I am exactly where God wants me.

After 27 years, I’ve lived in Florida almost as long as I lived in California. My heart would be very cold and hard if I allowed my yearning for a state to overshadow my joy at being “home.”

I can always pretend the cloud formation in the distance are mountains if I squint long enough.

 

What Do You Mean It’s Not All About Me?

Jan25

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. I write for 5 minutes on a one-word prompt with no heavy editing. Today’s word is “convenient.”

It’s very rarely “convenient.”

I’m very selfish with my time.

p1000653But I made the commitment to say “yes” more often to the things my kids want to do. Of course, I only have one kid still at home full time, but there are many other daily decisions that poke at that idol of convenience that I wrestle with every day.

I watch my 1-year-old grandson for his parents when they go to work in the evenings 5 days a week. It’s not convenient to have my days interrupted, but there’s no higher use of my time than helping to raise this tiny image bearer of God.

nqlflrg5to+idg0qntanygMy daughter does not yet have her drivers license, so if she desires to go clothes shopping or anywhere else that isn’t within reasonable walking distance, I am on the hook for taking her there. Her timing isn’t always convenient for what I want to do, but I know that I won’t always have the responsibility and I treasure the time we can spend together.

Sometimes I have friends that need a favor which could look like picking up one of her children at school if she’s running behind or is with another child on the other side of town. Or maybe it’s the use of a car if hers is in the shop. Or maybe it’s visiting her in the hospital. The list goes on and on.

True, these things are rarely “convenient,” but, honestly, it’s not all about me.

Shocking, I know.

Each daily interruption is a chance to affect the lives of those around me. And that’s what really matters in the end.