False Summits.

In my brief stint as a Coloradoan, I encountered a few false summits. Those peaks that look like the summit, until you get close enough to realize that they're not. Instead, they're sources of frustration and disappointment, even anger. 

Imagine trekking through the Rocky Mountains, surrounded by pine trees and clear blue skies above.  You're breathing heavily as the air gets thinner and trying to keep moving. The trail keeps winding through thick forest and rocky terrain, with no end in sight. Your body aches, your throat is parched, and everything in you wants to turn back.  And then, there's a clearing in the woods. Sunlight pours in.  A peak appears in the distance. 

There it is. The summit. We're almost there.  With  fresh resolve, you keep on the trail, eyeing the peak constantly. In your mind, you anticipate the breathtaking views that await and the feeling of accomplishment. But as the peak gets nearer, you realize the trail isn't taking you there. In fact, it's taking you right past it. 

Really?! Your steps become a little heavier, and you feel the tightness in your chest again.  Your heart sinks, and your fists clench, as you realize you've been looking to a false summit. Sigh. You work up the strength to keep moving, hoping that the real one will soon be in sight. 

False summits. Disappointment. Disillusionment.  They're constants on our journeys.

Rewind a couple thousand years. The Jewish people waited for a King. For one who would save them from the tyranny of Rome. The one who would restore worship of Yahweh. The one who would put Israel back on the map. 

And they get a baby, born in a stable to a teenage girl, out of wedlock. 

An ordinary carpenter. 

A teacher who hangs out with all the wrong people. And preaches things seemingly contradictory to the Law of Moses. 

An unattractive man who says He is God Himself.

A King who dies on a cross as a criminal. 

Not the political revolutionary who was supposed to lead the revolt. Not the social activist who would bring them justice.  False hopes. 

Instead, they get a Shepherd, a Savior, a Servant, whose Kingdom values are upside down. He is nothing like the King they waited for. 

He's still not who I think He should be. 

I've waited for a King who will bring me Happiness. Significance. Security. Comfort. Purpose. 

And He won't give them to me. At least, not how I want them. Instead, He leads me through trials and deserts. Death to self. Surrender. (for the joy.) 

He calls me to let go of even things that I think are pleasing to Him. My passions and ministries that have become my personal kingdom. My life plans that guide my life more than He does. My sense of self that is actually a shoddily-made mask for the "me" He's made. Things I loved: the mountains and my friends in Colorado. 

Each time I run up against one, I crumble under the disappointment. I think it was what I wanted. I'm angry because my hope was running high and now it's dashed. Yet, I'm grateful because what I really want is to reach the True Summit. I want Jesus' Kingdom to come. The false summits are just distractions.

What false summits have you encountered? The things you thought were the ultimate but turned out to be lesser things. Relationships? A job? A location? Marriage? Children? 

This Advent, I invite you to consider with me, is the True Summit worth the climb, through the deserts and the valley? Is Eden really what my heart longs for?  And if they are, will I still make room in my heart for Servant-King even when it brings pain and disappointment? 

The Road Home

Saturday morning. Sitting in my comfy chair, french toast with warm apple compote on top, fresh-brewed cup of coffee, music playing softly in the background. Chilly, mid-November day; skies are clear, trees have all but shed their leaves. The gentle breeze whispers, "All is well." 

This is home. 

The  weather, the flatness, the rhythms of life, of sharing meals, celebrating babies, marriage, jobs, the love of God, praying together, laughing together, serving together, making music together. Thinking, wrestling, grappling with life together. The together-ness of it all. 

Yet, somehow underneath it all, I hear a beckoning to "Come home." 

How can this be? Bowling Green is home more than anywhere else to me. When I lived in Denver, going home meant coming back to Bowling Green. But scripturally, home is spoken of as a place I haven't found yet. 

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.  If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return.  But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. -Hebrews 11:13-16 

Abraham obeyed God and up and left his people, his earthly homeland for somewhere unknown to him. Joseph was sold to a foreign king. The children of Israel wandered for years upon years in the wilderness. And then went into exile under evil kings. John the Baptist lived in the desert. Jesus traveled  for three years, with nowhere to lay his head. They had no geographic place to call home. 

Because home could only be one place. Home was where God lived. His Tabernacle, Temple, Dwelling Place.  As He went, so did they. 

And so before Jesus goes back to His Father in Heaven, He invites His disciples to do one thing. Abide. Live. Come home. As it turns out, we are only Home when He lives in us and we in Him. Like a bottle of water in the ocean. When I, by His grace, make myself home in Him and Him alone, I will have arrived. When I stop trying to make other things, people, places fill my desire for home, because they can only point me in the right direction, I will be content. 

Until then, I, too, seek a better country. Yes, Jesus, I want to come Home. 

Been thinking about this whole Jesus thing.

So many oddities about it. So much that feels ambiguous, unsettling, mysterious. And then once in awhile, something clicks into place.

Lately, there are certain ideas that scare me. Discipline. Rules. Commandments.

Now, I know these are all parts of agreeing to living life under His Kingship, i.e., 'If you love me, you will keep my commandments.' But as a recovering overachiever, these words conjure up feelings of dread. Fear that these moral standards will be forever elusive, always threatening to crush me with guilt and shame. Always heaping on more "shoulds," "oughts," "supposed-tos." So, maybe I'll just stay away from them altogether. Just swim in grace. Great.

But, take the whole Sermon on the Mount. It's Jesus laying out His idea of how to live life. And it doesn't really sound like any of it is optional, for His followers anyway. There's this implicit idea that if you're going to befriend Jesus, you're going to take Him up on His way of being and living. Nothing less.

Shoot.

Love your enemies? Don't worry about money? Don't do good things just so that others see you? Turn the other cheek?

I can't do that. I'm human, darnit.

So, I cringe inside, trying to hide from the reality of how impossible this whole thing actually is.

But maybe it's not like that. At least, it's not about the 'shoulds, the oughts, the supposed-to's.'  Lately, I imagine Jesus giving me the Sermon on the Mount less as a moral dictator and  more like a counselor, mentor, shepherd, heart-friend.

Maybe if He was on earth today, He'd meet me at Starbucks, buy me a latte, and we'd sit down in comfy chairs by the fire. I'd let out a deep sigh and then tell Him about my life, my struggles with anxiety, relationships, the future. He'd look at me with eyes that see the soul, yet a warmth that transcends my deepest fears of being exposed. And He'd begin engaging me, humbly, compassionately, knowingly.

Giving me those words in Matthew as life to a tired soul. Antidote to broken relationships. Peace to an anxious mind. As an invitation to a life, not easier, but fuller, richer, and more real.

As channels of the Spirit, that's what my best friends do for me.

Only Jesus could be King and Friend. 

Since we are surrounded...

Photo by Usain Bolt, after winning gold in the 100m... 

Maybe this is the picture Paul had in mind writing these verses... 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. 

-Hebrews 12:1-2 ESV

God Moves in a Mysterious Way

Just waiting to see how...

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

-William Cowper

Enough

Enough.

Do I really know what that word means?  Have I ever had just enough? 


Compared to 99% of the world, I've always had more than enough. A lot more. 

Then why is enough so hard?

It hit me while shopping at Safeway a few months ago. I was getting all anxious, pacing up and down the cereal aisle. I already had cereal at home, but I couldn't just have only one kind of cereal to choose from, could I?

Where did this voice come from? Who said I could not be satisfied with one lonely box of cereal sitting on my refrigerator? Who said my happiness hinged on Raisin Bran vs. Special K vs. Honey Bunches of Oats?

Once I had this epiphany,  I felt a little bit foolish for worrying about cereal, and finished filling my cart with the things I was actually out of at home.

The more I thought about it though, the more I realized that a theology of "enough" would completely turn my world upside down. Beyond cereal. 

I'm convinced God only intended for us to have "enough." Any more, and we get all cocky and self-sufficient. Why would He give the Israelites just enough manna for each day? Why would He lead them through the wilderness with a cloud by day, and fire by night, instead of giving them the whole list of turn-by-turn directions? Why would Jesus pray "give us this day our daily bread..." if we needed any more than that? Or say "sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

It's hard right now, to say that I have enough.

I want a job.
I want a husband.
I want to move out.
I want new dreams.
I want plans.
I want to "move on" with my life.
I want backpacking in mountains with crisp air, clear streams, wildflowers, and the most stars ever seen.

But can I say this...flat, windy, humid northwest Ohio... is...enough?

I have parents that want to provide for me in their home.
I have friends that know me better than I know myself.
I've been re-crossing paths with people I never would have imagined.
I get espresso every morning.
I cuddle my fluffy white dog.
We share dinner on the back patio.
I grow columbines and wild daisies on my window sill.
I admire orange ditch lilies along country roads.
I bike through winding dirt trails under canopies of green.
I splash in muddy river water.
I ponder in wide open spaces.
I drink in pink sunsets.

It's an hourly battle to believe that yes, this is truly enough.

And what it comes down to is this: Is God Himself, enough? Whether He gives me what I want, or not?

A Call.

The idea of calling has been heavily on my radar for the past few months. This search for an overarching, all-encompassing life purpose. Something worth living and dying for. A part to play in this bigger story we are all acting out. The funny thing is, though, the more I've searched for it outside myself, the more I've realized it's right in front of me. Or inside me.

 It's a call to Jesus. From Jesus. He calls me to Himself. It's also a call to my neighbor, that is, whoever I cross paths with. My family, my friends, the cashier at the grocery store, fellow coffee-drinkers at Starbucks. My call is simply to love. I need no greater cause. Love is enough.

But is it? I must admit, that there is so much of me that craves thrill and adventure. I want to be a heroine.  To change the world. Which is precisely what the early Church did. But it wasn't because they set out to start a revolution. The ever-quotable C. S. Lewis said, "You can’t get second things by putting them first. You get second things only by putting first things first.” Paul, Peter, John...they were simply men consumed with Jesus Himself. It just so happened that as they followed His lead some radical things happened. 

Culture says we have to create our own meaning, write our own story, leave our mark on the world. The odd thing about Jesus is that He calls me to let go of all of those things, to trust that the Story He is writing is far greater than anything that I could conceive. He calls me to be a supporting actress rather than the lead. To just be His friend and walk through life moment by moment. Which is actually incredibly freeing. Upside-down, backwards, yes. But it's simple. More simple than trying to make a life for myself. 

A call to Jesus. A call to People. For the cause of Love. Can it be enough?