I Can Help.

When I was a little girl, I remember dancing in the living room with my Mom, on our rust-colored shag carpet, in front of our shiny chrome entertainment center and “hi-fi” turntable/8 track/AM-FM combo.

Yes, I’m officially old!

(I can neither officially confirm nor deny whether the carpet, chrome, or turnable are still in Mom and Dad’s home...they "might" be...) But, I digress…

Our FAVORITE song was called “I Can Help”. When it came on, if I was in another room playing with my Barbies or in my play kitchen (complete with an Easy Bake Oven, of course), I would run…not walk, but RUN…to meet Mom in the living room, with the ruffled hem of my favorite little yellow daisy-covered nightgown flying behind me. She would have dropped whatever she was doing as well and was faithfully there, waiting for me. This was OUR song!

Dancing with her to this song is one of my most precious memories with Mom. A close second is laughing hysterically while Mom sang her “high note”. But that’s another blog post for another day.

Anyway, the lyrics of this old classic go something like this…

”If you've got a problem, I don't care what it is.
If you need a hand, I can assure you this,
I can help, I've got two strong arms, I can help.
It would sure do me good to do you good,
Let me help…”

There was a part in the song that slowed down a little, and we would move from our freestyle "boogie" pace to a slower one, and I would stand on Mom’s feet. I was good at the freestyle portion of our dance, but when it came to coordinated movements, I was too little to understand or to make any sort of synchronized slow dance steps with her (and sadly, my dance skills have never really improved). So she would gently guide me to stand on her feet and would hold my hands to guide me through the moves. I was able to keep my balance and sway and step along with her to the sweetest part of the song. It was beautiful, and she held me while I wobbled, her experienced and grownup hands and feet guiding my tiny, inexperienced ones.

My sister Lorri would hold my hand as she taught me to write…cursive…at age five. Yep, age five! (She also taught me to read by the time I was four!) I skipped a grade because of Lorri…none of us are surprised that she grew into the most amazing teacher ever. Even at her very young age, she would sit behind me, holding my tiny hands and guiding me to shape the letters correctly. Her hands around mine kept them steady and allowed me to create words in script.

God blessed me with wonderful parents and sisters to guide my hands and feet as they taught me so many things. Because of their steadiness, my hands and feet remained limber and could carry out the task at hand. Their strength, sureness, and firmness allowed me freedom of movement to dance and to create.

And there is yet another One who places His hands over mine and holds them strongly, tenderly and steadily:

Genesis 49:24-25: His bow remained steady, his strong arms stayed limber, because of the hand of the Mighty One of Jacob, because of the Shepherd, the Rock of Israel, because of your father's God, who helps you, because of the Almighty…”

What a beautiful picture of the omnipotent, sovereign, Almighty God, Mighty One of Jacob, and Rock of Israel.  The One who tenderly, sweetly, firmly and gently places His hands over ours, as we rest in his strength so that we too can freely learn, dance, create, and sometimes so that we can fight the enemy's archers shooting at us.

God, may I never lose my identity as your child, with my Abba Daddy’s strong hands and feet guiding mine, as I dance...

”If you've got a problem, I don't care what it is.
If you need a hand, I can assure you this,
I can help, I've got two strong arms, I can help.
It would sure do me good to do you good,
Let me help…”

Overcoming.

My employer makes sure its employees feel appreciated. So the head honcho around here hosts a birthday lunch each month for those celebrating birthdays. The luncheon is held in our most plush conference room, and is catered beautifully. The grand poo-bah (a super nice guy) says lots of words of affirmation and appreciation for our hard work, we receive a gift, and we get to enjoy a 1.5 hour lunch break. Sweet deal. We also go around the very large conference room table and introduce ourselves (a huge company, not all of us have met).

As we went around the table yesterday, I got to meet Allen. Allen sat a few seats away from everyone. I’ve seen Allen before, in the cafeteria here. Always sitting alone, a few tables away from where others are gathered, but always smiling. When I walk into our cafeteria here, it’s like re-living a bad high school flashback, when you’re not sure about where to sit, with whom, and that feeling of awkwardness when you just don’t fit in anywhere specific. So seeing Allen sitting alone almost every day makes my heart sad.

But yesterday, I got to hear him utter some words for the first time. Allen works in receiving, and logs in all of our lab samples. We get thousands of them every day. He is one of a team who makes sure that those samples get coded to the right patients. If that doesn’t happen, people can die. Seriously.

Allen stutters. But the more he stutters, the more he smiles. His hands are also just slightly deformed. I never noticed that before. I’m guessing it’s some sort of palsy. He moves slowly and talks slowly, but when he speaks, is very articulate. And have I mentioned he’s always smiling? Always.

I had to fight everything within me not to start bawling right there at lunch yesterday. But he doesn’t need me to cry for him or his disability. His big, bright smile tells me that.

I have an out-of-state friend who is a quadriplegic. I’ve known him for years. His injury came when he was 20 years old, in a skiing accident. He’s in a chair now, and has been for the past 20 years. But he still skis and skydives and bungee jumps and gets up every morning and leads a more active life than I ever have, with all of my limbs working fully. I cry when I think about him sometimes. I cry when I get a gift from him in the mail, because I know what it took for him to get himself out of the house, to the store, and to the post office. But again, he doesn’t need my tears. He’s good.

So why do I feel a lump in my throat and an overwhelming urge to weep on their behalf? I tell myself it's because they must be lonely and sad. But if I get really honest about it, I don’t cry or feel sad for them as much as I cry and feel sad for me. Because honestly, sometimes (most of the time), I don’t have a spirit of overcoming challenges like they do, and I grieve that.

I saw Allen again in the cafeteria about 30 minutes ago when I went down to grab lunch to bring back to my desk. On my way out, I stopped and wished him a Happy Birthday again. He expanded his already bright smile. I couldn’t resist. I asked him, “Allen, why do you smile all the time? Don’t your cheeks get sore?” He laughed, with cracker crumbs flying out of his mouth, as he said, “Because Jesus loves me.”

Yes, He does. And Allen, you just preached the most beautiful sermon to me that I’ve ever heard. 

Religion vs. Relationship.

“What would Jesus do?”
“Put on the mind of Christ.”
“Be Christ-like.”

Common phrases if you’re a Christian. The types of phrases that we can become numb to because we hear them so often. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately, and what it means to be transformed to the mind of Christ.

In the thirty-something years that I’ve been a Christian, my perspective on what these phrases mean has been consistent. Do what Christ did. Simple, right? Paul is pretty clear about this, or at least I thought so. I have always thought about the mind of Christ being my response to what is happening around me. That my mind should be Christlike in my response – whether my response is by “doing” or by “saying” something. Respond with kindness, compassion, love, and peace. The action has been the key for me…the doing. I have always read Paul’s instructions to us from that mindset. After all, it makes sense, right? Jesus responded in these ways, so shouldn’t I?

I was talking with someone recently about this, and this person asked me what I thought was an odd and irrelevant question at the time. But this person is quite skilled at digging underneath the surface of what is presented, so I indulged this person’s little “question and answer” exercise. I was asked, “What was the last moment you [I] can remember that you consciously, tangibly, knowingly experienced radical transformation by the power of God?” Wow. Now, that’s quite a question. Over the past few years, I could point to a number of areas where I can now see, looking back, that God was transforming me, and I know that transformation has occurred in my heart in several ways (I still have a very long way to go). But this person’s question was not about those experiences – it was about a physical manifestation of the supernatural healing and transforming power of God…when last had it been so powerful that my body was aware of it as it happened? My answer to the question was a time about 8 years ago. On a late Saturday night/early morning in August, 2001, I drove home from a bar, barely dressed and reeking of smoke and alcohol. On the way home, I finally gave in to the longings I had been carrying for quite some time – to return to God and to reclaim my faith. Instead of driving home, though, I drove my car directly to the front parking space of a church near my home. I sat there for hours, just staring up at the steeple and praying, not knowing what to do next. Cars started to arrive. I realized that it was Sunday morning. I knew if I drove away then that I would not return. So I went in. Just as I was, half dressed in very immodest clothing, and dirty. The moment of transformation didn’t occur as I walked out after the service, but as I walked to the door to go in. I felt the old melt away and pour off of me as the front door opened for me. And I’ve never been the same since. Thank you, Jesus.

After I answered this question, I went on about my days but carried a little bit of frustration. Why is my last recall of a tangible, physical experience of transformation so long ago? I started to become very frustrated that I wasn’t able to point to other definitive moments since then. Have I not opened myself up to what is possible when I surrender to Him, so fully that my body is aware of it as the old melts away? How does this fit in to what it means to have the mind of Christ? Why has it been so long since I have heard/felt a true word from God to me? These have been burning questions for me. God, what is the barrier in me, in my heart, that keeps me from experiencing the fullness of your work and blessings in my life?

I got my answer. Just a few nights ago, in my old flannel PJ’s, standing over my bathroom sink, washing my face before bed. I wasn’t in some high and holy place, I wasn’t at church, I wasn’t in my prayer closet. I was doing my thing, a routine I follow every night. I lifted my face and in the mirror, and what I saw was my answer. My eyes were weary, red, and swollen from a day of grieving a recent and significant loss. And in the red streaks of my own eyes I saw my own heart. In that moment, God spoke to me that the true meaning of “putting on the mind of Christ” is not about what Christ did but why He did it. The mind of Christ is the heart of Christ. And the heart of Christ is about absolute surrender to the Father. It isn’t about the doing. The mind of Christ…the true character of Christ…is about full and ultimate obedience to and trust of His Father. He was not suspicious of His Father’s intentions for Him. He never went anywhere His Father did not lead Him. He never said anything His Father did not speak. He received God’s love. He received God’s grace. He trusted God. My body went hot and I felt the old melt away and the new take residence. I think I might have done my happy dance. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did.

I can’t give love that I cannot receive. I can’t freely give grace that I don’t freely receive. I can’t give what I have shut out. I can’t trust from a place of distrust. And I have left a wake of destruction by trying to do just that.

I went straight to my Bible and started reading Paul’s writings again. They are leaping off the page with new life. Everything looks different. Everything is different. I guess this is where the “constant renewing of the mind” can finally start, huh?

So, I have a new answer for the question asked of me. I can’t wait to report back to the one who asked it. December 13, 2009, at 10:05 p.m. In my old flannel PJs at my bathroom sink. The night religion became a relationship.

Other People's Stuff

Hi again. It’s been a while.

I have so many things to say, but my thoughts – and even my prayers -- exhaust me these days. I so earnestly need a clear and precise directive Word from God. Or, maybe more accurately stated, I need to accept and be obedient to the clear and precise directive Word from God that He may have already spoken to me.

Since my thoughts aren’t organized enough to put to paper (yet), I’ll leave you with these blog links well worthy of your time. Enjoy.

1. No exaggeration, I think I have read this post about 20 times in the past 6 weeks. God has led me into a very familiar environment that I happily left long ago. I didn’t want to go back “home” to this work life that held me in sin and bondage for years and years as an unbeliever and even for a while as a new believer. But I returned “home” as a much different person than I was when I left. The direction of my eyes, ears, hands, feet, and heart have changed. So when I feel weary, I read this. You should, too. Really.

2. You’ll want to park on Sarah's blog for at least an hour or so. Sarah has a wonderful gift of expressing hard truths in real, puncturing and loving ways. What she and her husband Chris have found, in their unapologetic, unbridled, and unwavering commitment to purity in their marriage is something that most people go for a lifetime without understanding. Don’t read it if you don’t want some hard, real truth. Then after you finish this single post, read her story. The reality of what can happen when we let little bits of our guard down. For any of us in marriages, relationships or one day planning to be married, I have realized that this commitment to flee (not walk, but FLEE) from temptation in the smallest areas of our lives is part of what it means to be “equally yoked”. If that commitment is not there on both sides of the relationship, then it very likely is not God’s best.

3. This one wrecked me for days weeks. This is so worth 2 minutes of your time.

4. To end on a lighter note, here’s a funny one. Well, it’s hilarious to me…and hopefully to you. My current object of lust is a black KitchenAid Stand Mixer. Oh, how I desire one. And oh, how I know it will be a very long time (like maybe 17 months when I’m DEBT FREE!!!) before I get one.
But my bloggy friend Annie (she used to live just down the street from me, how weird is that?) had her very special KitchenAid day a while back. She chronicled her journey to her KitchenAid Lover in this super fabulous video. And, I downloaded the song right after I heard it. Good stuff!

That’s all I’ve got. None of it’s original. I guess I’m sort of like a cover band today. But hey, at least a new post is showing up in your blog reader, right?

And the weiner is...

(Sigh.) I love them.

All Drugged Up and Nowhere to Go.

So...how was YOUR week?

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall.

If you know my story, then you know that my early years in the church were like many of yours may have been. I was taught sound doctrine based firmly in Truth, and for that, I am so grateful. But I also picked up some other things…some things that I wish I hadn’t.

I am not computer savvy enough to draw a circle below. But in your mind’s eye, picture a circle. In the center, write “Truth”. The diameter of the circle, though, should be labeled “religion” or even more accurately, “legalism”. I was taught Truth through the lenses of legalism.

Hold that thought for a second.

I have given much thought lately to the idea of spiritual discipline. Not long ago, I found myself the nastiest form of spiritual warfare I’ve ever experienced. So I’ve been checking myself … taking a self-inventory, if you will.

How do I relate to God?
Am I placing Him above all else?
Am I seeking Him?
Is there an area of unrepented sin in my life?
Am I consistent in my spiritual disciplines?

Most of us know what the components of spiritual discipline are. To name a few…fasting, prayer, quiet time with God daily, and so on. You know the drill.

My humbling exercise soon revealed that I have a serious problem with self-image. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not talking about the outer image that I see when I look in the mirror. I already knew I had issues there. But like the outer shell of the circle I asked you to draw in your head, how I see my outer shell is merely a refraction of the lens upon how I see myself in the shadow of God.

There is an inherent “default” where my mind goes when I read about God and His instructions and commands to us. My faith, from the time I comprehended it, was grounded in an idea of performance and both subtly and blatantly, I was taught that my holiness was dependent on my performance and what I had achieved. Most often, those words were not spoken to me in a Sunday School class or sermon but instead were spoken – loudly -- through the actions and responses of the church in the face of someone’s spiritual fall. Those who did not perform well were not welcome. As a young kid, it framed my view of God. That stuff sticks and is really hard to wipe off.

OK, here’s where those two concepts come together. I understand, and have for some time, that discipline is a means of seeking God and receiving Him. I understand and firmly believe in the importance of “doing the things” necessary to keep me grounded in my faith. They are necessary. Period. Not because they area list of rules to follow but because they drive me closer to my Abba Father. As a matter of fact, I have often said to others that I do not look upon the list of spiritual disciplines as merely a set of rules to be graded against. I say that a lot.

But do I really believe that? We live what we believe. Do I really live that?

Nuh-uh.

When I meet someone who is more spiritually mature than me (i.e., more “holy”), I don’t see their holiness first. I see my unholiness. It is my focal point when placed in the shadow of holiness. When I read, think on, and meditate upon the attributes of God, I don’t see his worthiness first. I see my own unworthiness. My unworthiness is my focal point, not God’s worthiness. I am centered on my “uns”…which means my focus is on myself.

While the awareness of my unholiness and unworthiness is the very thing that humbles me before God (a healthy thing, by the way), shouldn’t my focus be on HIS holiness and HIS worthiness? If I am focused on my “uns” then the enemy has already stolen my thoughts by directing them toward the lie I am unworthy of God’s love, grace, and redemption. And guess what that probably means? That when I look upon others, I probably do/see the same thing. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

God, you see the image of your holiness and worthiness in me. You do not see my unholiness or unworthiness first. You call me worthy. You call me redeemed. You call me into your holiness. May I see myself and others the way that you do, through your eyes, and through your promise.