I didn't grow up in a church that embraced the season of Lent. My only exposure to the practice was kids attending the local Catholic school. Several rode my school bus. They complained every spring about not having candy (or some other beloved item) for 40 days.
I felt their pain. How could abstaining from candy ever be beneficial?
Fast forward 35 years. My relationship with Jesus had actually become a relationship. I was no longer simply a born again church-goer whose heavenly future was certain. Now Jesus was the King Who kept company with me. And because of that beautiful reality, I saw Lent with new eyes: 40 days ripe with built-in opportunities to connect with Jesus! Giving up something I enjoyed, something I would miss numerous times every day, provided multiple moments to talk to Jesus. Moments beyond grace at meals and nighttime prayers. Could this be the entry point to Paul's urging to pray always?
For me, it was. Lent changed my life.
I surrendered two foods that were daily staples in my life. I missed them on Day One. By Day Fifteen I'm embarrassed to say I seriously considered giving up giving up! That is until I was hit with this reality: Jesus was abandoned by His friends, tortured, and pinned naked to a cross -- for me -- and deleting two FOODS from my life for 40 days was tempting me to go back on a promise I made Him. I was disillusioned by my wimpyness. But Jesus wasn't. He knows I'm dust. A dusty daughter that He loves. Would He have loved me less had I given in to my temptation? No. Did He love me more because I didn't? Absolutely not.
Lent isn't about earning more of God's favor or pleasure. It's simply a yearly opportunity to empty out a place in our souls so that Jesus can enter in.
And that's what happens for me each Lent. Every yearning for what's been surrendered is replaced with this simple prayer: Jesus, let me know You. And He does. Not necessarily in that moment; but in quiet and often surprising ways (hello, grocery checkout line!) during Lent, and thereafter.
The way of Jesus often appears nonsensical. To become great, we must become small. To find our lives, we must lose them. Lent takes us down the same paradoxical path: Give up something small and receive the priceless bounty of the Lord of Lent...and Easter...and Resurrection...and Eternity.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Building Altars
Last week was a vacation week for me. Ryan and I took the week off work and spent each day...doing whatever we wanted. Stayed in our jammies for far too long...watched a lot of movies. Drank even more than a lot of coffee. Took in a few sights across north-central Indiana. Cleaned the attic. {We had to do ONE responsible thing.}
It was a glorious week. But the day before that week began was a day of much prayer and counting on God.
That was the day that began with me speaking in the chapel of a Christian school. To a group of 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th graders.
I have a lump in my throat even TELLING you about it. I was so afraid!! Teens and tweens! Do you remember those years? I do. Very vividly.
Ahhh sixth grade. The year of the poofy bangs. Don't believe me?
{The poofy bangs may have been the least of my problems.}
But despite the issues in and out of the body-image arena, this year was pivotal. Because THIS was the year that the Lord and I started a real relationship. Not a riding-on-my-parents'-coattails religion, but a legitimate, thriving relationship between Jesus Christ and me. Sixth grade. At the top of the elementary school ladder...a brand new aunt...about to discover junior high...that was when He got to me. And claimed me. Claimed that girl with big bangs and perpetual zits.
And that Friday, I got to stand in front of a group of smoother-haired sixth graders and let them know that I laid a foundation stone in the altar of my life...when I was a sixth grader.
And then I spoke to the seventh graders. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh seventh grade. The year it all went out of control.
I shall pause at this very point and bless the inventor of the hair straightener.
Seventh grade. The year that a girl in school made a hateful comment about my appearance. The kind of comment that fostered the self-fear that is obvious in the photo above. The year that made me so afraid to go to school because I was petrified of what the girl {who, by the way, had the looks of Halle Berry and no concept of an inside voice} might say about me next. I believed what she said about me and I was scared she'd say more. And that was the year God led me to Exodus 23:20 - which let me know He sent angels ahead of me to prepare the way. It didn't make the loud-mouth any quieter, nor did it make me less afraid of her. But it did let me know God was prepping my way. the way of a seventh-grader. And I got to tell a whole bunch of seventh-graders with their own versions of loud-mouth Halle Berry lookalikes...that I laid a stone in my life altar with that moment and that verse.
And then I moved on to the eighth graders. Remember eighth grade? For me it was the year the bangs got EVEN bigger.
{Random fact: This photo was taken at my grandparents' home...which is now my home. I was standing in my own future living room!}
I stood in front of those eighth graders and told them about my encounter with peer pressure and how even in my own youth group, I was urged to do things against the rules of my house and even though it was hard, I said no. And even though I stood alone, God blessed me for my obedience and helped me learn how to say no...alone. And even though I KNOW the peer pressure facing the kids in the audience that day is MAGNIFICENT in comparison to what I faced, the point remained the same...it's a stone I laid in the altar of my life...that day. As an eighth grader.
And I finished up with the freshmen. The good old freshman year:
The year God got right through to me and taught me that He cares about every crisis. It was my first time to face a huge life issue...a crisis of faith, if you will. And I made the choice to follow Psalm 121 and lift my eyes to the hills and seek the help that comes from the Lord. That's what He was doing in the life of a high school freshman {who clung ever so desperately to those bangs} and in that experience, I laid another stone in the altar of life.
I finished my speech by dropping rocks in a fishbowl and explaining to those students that they're never too young, and nothing is ever too unimportant...to begin building an altar of remembrance to the Lord. And when they're grown and look back over their lives, they'll see how God worked. They'll remember the stones they laid in that altar, and they'll be able to say to others...See this?? This is when God worked in my life.
I'm so thankful...not only to have survived speaking to teens and tweens...but to have an altar to point to God...all the way back to these awkward formative years.
THIS girl....
is who she is because of stones laid in an altar that began way back here:
What's in your altar? Build it...tall and strong...to the glory of God!
It was a glorious week. But the day before that week began was a day of much prayer and counting on God.
That was the day that began with me speaking in the chapel of a Christian school. To a group of 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th graders.
I have a lump in my throat even TELLING you about it. I was so afraid!! Teens and tweens! Do you remember those years? I do. Very vividly.
Ahhh sixth grade. The year of the poofy bangs. Don't believe me?
But despite the issues in and out of the body-image arena, this year was pivotal. Because THIS was the year that the Lord and I started a real relationship. Not a riding-on-my-parents'-coattails religion, but a legitimate, thriving relationship between Jesus Christ and me. Sixth grade. At the top of the elementary school ladder...a brand new aunt...about to discover junior high...that was when He got to me. And claimed me. Claimed that girl with big bangs and perpetual zits.
And that Friday, I got to stand in front of a group of smoother-haired sixth graders and let them know that I laid a foundation stone in the altar of my life...when I was a sixth grader.
And then I spoke to the seventh graders. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh seventh grade. The year it all went out of control.
Seventh grade. The year that a girl in school made a hateful comment about my appearance. The kind of comment that fostered the self-fear that is obvious in the photo above. The year that made me so afraid to go to school because I was petrified of what the girl {who, by the way, had the looks of Halle Berry and no concept of an inside voice} might say about me next. I believed what she said about me and I was scared she'd say more. And that was the year God led me to Exodus 23:20 - which let me know He sent angels ahead of me to prepare the way. It didn't make the loud-mouth any quieter, nor did it make me less afraid of her. But it did let me know God was prepping my way. the way of a seventh-grader. And I got to tell a whole bunch of seventh-graders with their own versions of loud-mouth Halle Berry lookalikes...that I laid a stone in my life altar with that moment and that verse.
And then I moved on to the eighth graders. Remember eighth grade? For me it was the year the bangs got EVEN bigger.
I stood in front of those eighth graders and told them about my encounter with peer pressure and how even in my own youth group, I was urged to do things against the rules of my house and even though it was hard, I said no. And even though I stood alone, God blessed me for my obedience and helped me learn how to say no...alone. And even though I KNOW the peer pressure facing the kids in the audience that day is MAGNIFICENT in comparison to what I faced, the point remained the same...it's a stone I laid in the altar of my life...that day. As an eighth grader.
And I finished up with the freshmen. The good old freshman year:
I finished my speech by dropping rocks in a fishbowl and explaining to those students that they're never too young, and nothing is ever too unimportant...to begin building an altar of remembrance to the Lord. And when they're grown and look back over their lives, they'll see how God worked. They'll remember the stones they laid in that altar, and they'll be able to say to others...See this?? This is when God worked in my life.
I'm so thankful...not only to have survived speaking to teens and tweens...but to have an altar to point to God...all the way back to these awkward formative years.
THIS girl....
is who she is because of stones laid in an altar that began way back here:
What's in your altar? Build it...tall and strong...to the glory of God!
Monday, February 17, 2014
Getting Unstuck
During almost 30 years of hosting Mid-Morning, I've absorbed the wisdom and insights of many of the country's most-respected psychologists and life coaches, including Dr. John Townsend of Boundaries fame, and Dr. Jennifer Degler, an intuitive, discerning and sassy psychologist who swaddles her advice in a southern twang.
There's an issue that repeatedly emerges in questions callers, especially women, ask guests who specialize in relationships: getting unstuck. The scenarios vary -- everything from a friend who is always 15 minutes late, to an older sister who continually offers unsolicited advice. Getting unstuck questions invariably begin with these words: "How can I get him or her to stop...?"
But the more helpful question to ask is, Why do I let him or her ...? As Dr. Jennfer Degler puts it, "Failure to confront another person is permission to allow a behavior to continue."
What keeps us from confronting another person? There are several contributing factors, but passivity can be a key player. Here's what I've learned from Mid-Morning guests about overcoming passivity, that's helped me get unstuck in my professional and personal lives.
Passive people react to life, allowing it to happen to them. They spend a lot of time, as Dusty Springfield sang, "Wishin' and hopin' and dreamin'." The problem is those activities consume energy and only make you feel like you're actually doing something productive, when the reality is you're draining away minutes, even years, from your one and only life. The unwanted behavior continues and so does your frustration. Trust me. I know.
How do you move from passivity to action? By doing SOMETHING. You may not be ready to confront your tardy friend or your fountain-of-advice sister, but you can definitely kick-start some forward momentum and prepare yourself for the Big Moment by pulling yourself out of the pit of passivity.
First, take notice of all the times you say I don't care or any version of it: I don't care which movie we see. You choose where we go on vacation. It doesn't matter where we eat. The number will shock you.
Second, make a decision and speak up. This can be scary. Begin small. The next time someone says, "Let's go see a movie," reply, "Great. I've been wanting to see the new George Clooney movie" -- which, by the way, is terrific. Go see Monuments Men.
Don't despise small beginnings. God doesn't. Decisive acts build on each other. You'll grow comfortable and confident each time you voice your opinion and take action. Today you weigh in on where to eat, and tomorrow (or a month from now), you have a firm and frank discussion with your big sister about boundaries!
There's an issue that repeatedly emerges in questions callers, especially women, ask guests who specialize in relationships: getting unstuck. The scenarios vary -- everything from a friend who is always 15 minutes late, to an older sister who continually offers unsolicited advice. Getting unstuck questions invariably begin with these words: "How can I get him or her to stop...?"
But the more helpful question to ask is, Why do I let him or her ...? As Dr. Jennfer Degler puts it, "Failure to confront another person is permission to allow a behavior to continue."
What keeps us from confronting another person? There are several contributing factors, but passivity can be a key player. Here's what I've learned from Mid-Morning guests about overcoming passivity, that's helped me get unstuck in my professional and personal lives.
Passive people react to life, allowing it to happen to them. They spend a lot of time, as Dusty Springfield sang, "Wishin' and hopin' and dreamin'." The problem is those activities consume energy and only make you feel like you're actually doing something productive, when the reality is you're draining away minutes, even years, from your one and only life. The unwanted behavior continues and so does your frustration. Trust me. I know.
How do you move from passivity to action? By doing SOMETHING. You may not be ready to confront your tardy friend or your fountain-of-advice sister, but you can definitely kick-start some forward momentum and prepare yourself for the Big Moment by pulling yourself out of the pit of passivity.
First, take notice of all the times you say I don't care or any version of it: I don't care which movie we see. You choose where we go on vacation. It doesn't matter where we eat. The number will shock you.
Second, make a decision and speak up. This can be scary. Begin small. The next time someone says, "Let's go see a movie," reply, "Great. I've been wanting to see the new George Clooney movie" -- which, by the way, is terrific. Go see Monuments Men.
Don't despise small beginnings. God doesn't. Decisive acts build on each other. You'll grow comfortable and confident each time you voice your opinion and take action. Today you weigh in on where to eat, and tomorrow (or a month from now), you have a firm and frank discussion with your big sister about boundaries!
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Hurry, Sweet Spring
I'm sitting in my living room, working from the couch, while the tiniest of snowflakes fight for air space outside my window. It seems too many trillion of them already FOUND a place in our yard...our driveway...our sidewalk...our street...{you get the picture}.
It's beautiful, for sure.
And yet...oh the snarls it causes! The sliding cars...the frozen pipes...the slippery paths...hard to believe it can come from such beauty!
There's so much that's beautiful about winter: the snuggly blankets, the hot cocoa, the roaring fires...the sledding and snowman making and ice skating.
I looked forward to all those things {well, except the ice skating. That is not something safe for me to try if I want to keep all my limbs in tact....} but oh goodness...I didn't expect it all in such abundance!!
Maybe you're there. In a place that you looked forward to...perhaps even enjoyed once it began...but after some time, you find yourself weary. Weary and wondering when the end is in sight. IF there even is an end. Ever.
This week, an anonymous Mid-Morning caller said these words, which struck me so profoundly that I had no choice but to grab my journal and write them down:
It's not the place I want to be, but if I have to be here, it's the place God wants me to be.
I have some winters of the soul that are just like the winter outside my window. Winters that I haven't chosen and don't particularly enjoy, but they are, nonetheless, where I am in this moment. And the callers words ring in my mind. God knew my placement - and He has a purpose for me here.
Trusting in the days of biting wind and debilitating snow...that spring awaits.
It's beautiful, for sure.
All fluffy and pure on the branches.
And yet...oh the snarls it causes! The sliding cars...the frozen pipes...the slippery paths...hard to believe it can come from such beauty!
There's so much that's beautiful about winter: the snuggly blankets, the hot cocoa, the roaring fires...the sledding and snowman making and ice skating.
I looked forward to all those things {well, except the ice skating. That is not something safe for me to try if I want to keep all my limbs in tact....} but oh goodness...I didn't expect it all in such abundance!!
Maybe you're there. In a place that you looked forward to...perhaps even enjoyed once it began...but after some time, you find yourself weary. Weary and wondering when the end is in sight. IF there even is an end. Ever.
This week, an anonymous Mid-Morning caller said these words, which struck me so profoundly that I had no choice but to grab my journal and write them down:
It's not the place I want to be, but if I have to be here, it's the place God wants me to be.
I have some winters of the soul that are just like the winter outside my window. Winters that I haven't chosen and don't particularly enjoy, but they are, nonetheless, where I am in this moment. And the callers words ring in my mind. God knew my placement - and He has a purpose for me here.
Trusting in the days of biting wind and debilitating snow...that spring awaits.
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