The Wilderness (pt. 1)

I love the beauties of nature: rainbows, fields of flowers, sunrises and sunsets, waterfalls, fresh green grass…but I just don’t like the wilderness.

Three months into marriage, my husband and I became “House Parents at a wilderness work camp in the deep woods of Ontario, Canada. Yes, the wilderness…with all of its beauty and wonder… and with all of its mosquitoes, black flies, black bears, and that which I am most afraid of…the field mouse. Augh. The wilderness.

When it comes to the wilderness…times of trials, darkness, loneliness, struggle, temptations…well, I don’t really like this kind of wilderness either. But, probably like most of you, I have had wilderness times throughout my life.

Several years ago I entered one of these wilderness times. I had been a follower of Jesus for a long time. I had trusted Jesus when I was six years old, however, many parts of my childhood, had never been talked about. My sense of identity was rooted mostly in my childhood relationships and their messages established early in life. A fear of abandonment taunted me even as a woman. The shame poisoned my sense of identity, with lingering messages such as: “you are too much” or “you will never be enough.” My view of God was severely tainted. Instead of a loving and gentle Father, I believed God to be harsh, distant, and demanding, and I the daughter who was never enough. Bitterness, even hatred loomed deep inside me, and seemed justifiable, yet I covered it with mask upon mask, and hoped that eventually I would be more than “saved from hell,” but also free. I did more. I served more. I pushed myself to be all that I could be as a wife, a mother, and a Christ follower. Then I entered the wilderness.

What has helped you press into your Father and root into His love during "Wilderness" times? Or perhaps you are seeking some encouragement because you find yourself in one of those times now. If so, the next couple of blogs I hope to share some of the things that helped me!

Looking forward to it! Blessings dear ones!

Hope

Have you ever found yourself asking "Why?" or "Why me?" This little phrase has been one I have uttered, shouted, and cried far too many times. Of course this phrase doesn't usually come to my lips at times of great undeserved grace or blessing. It doesn't come to mind when I am granted forgiveness or lavished with love. No, but it does arrive at times of pain, disappointment, and struggle. It seems such times are its stage. When the stage is set the little words dance and taunt me into doubt and disbelief. Have you ever been there?

When we first moved for my husband to begin attending seminary, we were filled with excitement and anticipation. We had sold most of our things, said good bye to dear friends, and were ready to walk the road of adventure. The first several months we found ourselves "jobless." My husband applied endlessly, day after day, only to receive rejection after rejection. While sitting in the office of the Department of Social Services, waiting for hours to apply for assistance, I asked "Why?" I was confused by "the Lord's lack of provision" and the perceived penalization for serving Him. It just didn't make sense to me. I was always taught, or at least believed, obedience leads to blessing. This was not blessing! I wrestled with feeling inadequate and forgotten. The voices of my childhood that condemned and shamed government assistance came to the forefront of my mind, and I found myself quicly sliding into a pit of hopelessness.

Years later, my perspective has changed to be a little clearer. Even that place of struggle was where I was meant to be, and within the struggle was a greater work happening, a work of freedom and redemption. Just as a dear brother once said, instead of "Why?" maybe there is a different question to be asked..."What? What is it you want to teach me Lord? What is it you want to do in me? Through me?" Slowly I am learning, indeed my God uses all things and where I am is no mere accident. Those things that most came to mind during that season were long lasting lies, even generational lies. That "desert time" drew out and exposed beliefs from the deeper parts of my heart and mind, beliefs that enslaved me.

Dear sisters I Pray that even "here", wherever "here" is, you, dear sister might find peace and comfort in the knowing our Father is not about to drop you, has not forgotten you, nor is too busy...but even in "this", He is working a good work in you.
Blessings.

God's whisper to Self-Hate

As a little girl I often prayed a prayer that went something like this: "God, please make people see me different from who I am." I prayed this prayer because I wanted to be seen and known by people, but I did not want people to see and know me as I knew myself. I saw myself as "bad." I believed I was defined by what others had spoken over me, or by their silence. I believed that the lack of affection and blessing I experienced was because of my lack of, or my too much-ness, or my not enough. I interpreted myself to be unwanted, disposable, defective, and at fault for the actions of others. My self-perception fueled my self-hate. God did answer my prayer, but not as I anticipated. He did give eyes to others to see me differently. Eyes to see me not as I saw, but to see me as He sees me.

How do you see yourself Beloved? Is your view true? When did you first learn these things?

We all carry messages and voices of the past within our minds and our hearts. No matter how long they have been around; no matter how often we have rehearsed them; and no matter how much they have been reinforced by others or circumstances ... many of these messages are lies. They speak about you ... but they are not true. Many of those voices are not the voice of our Father.

Who does your Father say you are? Not your earthly father... no, your Father who sees your heart and truly knows you.

Dear Daughter of Eve,
I have ransomed you because you are a treasure. I paid the the demand in full and beyond. I have made the way to unleash you from all that imprisoned you. All that you once owed ... I paid. I paid for the past, the present, and that which is to come. I stepped in and served your sentence for all that brought you guilt, so that you might be free. All that has been credited to me is yours. No longer are you a slave, desperate to pay your debt. No longer are you a slave defined by your debt. You are mine. You are my daughter and I, your Daddy. Your soul is clothed in the lace of a bride, pure and clean. Your body is like a temple, the place I have swept clean so that I might live. Within you I live and I continue my masterpiece upon your soul, heart, and mind not because of you, but because I am faithful. And because of who I am, you are full of power and strength. Yes, even in your weakness, I am there, ready to reveal a beauty beyond imagination ... my glory in you and through you.

Beloved, I am your Father who sees you, and knows your true name. I am your Father who formed you and delights in you. I formed you so that I might love on you and that you might know me more and more. I knit you together with dreams in mind, puposes of beauty and life. I do not change my mind when you are weak, trip, fall, or doubt. No, I am faithful, even if you are not. I wait for you. I pursue you. I knock again and again. I will not hide from you. I will not shame and condemn you. I long for you to be free and to be with me as I am with you.

I first loved you and I will love you first again and again.
Your Father.

A Big 2x4 and a Little Dust

He was a religious man. He could debate with the best of them! I guess today you would compare him to one who had been raised in a good ol fashioned church going family. He had been fed well because he was over flowing with knowledge on religious matters. He was the kind of guy that others might find intimidating. You know what I mean...the kind that just seems to have it together, and always gets the job done ... and done shiny and well. The kind of guy you kind of hate, but secretly (not that this author can relate) sometimes wish could be you. Anyhow this man seemed really good at noticing the faults and struggles of others. Every time someone would trip ... he was the first to see! Nothing got past him! He would notice, judge and shame. Another man, who was quite ordinary appearing, yet quite extrodinary, in fact Divine in human form, took opportunity to shed a little bit of light on this man's quandry, a simple illustration: a 2x4 (plank) and dust. He told this man that before he could dig out the little speck of dust out of the eye of another, it was critical to first get the plank out of his own. Now what in the world was the teacher talking about, and can we relate?

One season, a season of healing, this story hit me fresh and new. (That's just how the Spirit works...encounter Him with His word...He's unstoppable!) I inventoried all of the ways I had been loved poorly by others. I was noticing all of the ways that I had been disregarded and wounded. All of these events seemed so potent and defining to me. I rehearsed alot of these events. I rehearsed their messages about me, others, and God. The grief journey (much needed) ushered me into the journey of personal "plank" discovery. The "wounds" of my life seemed to be perfect reason to blame and rationalize. Yes, I said it, the collection of specks (wounding actions of others) seemed great enough to justify my plank, and from my perspective my plank was the speck! I was quite convinced that my plank would not even exist if it weren't for everyone else acting according to their specks! The truth cut past my veneer of victimhood, and deeply penetrated into my soul, me--a woman ... my plank existed, and it ran deep. It impaired my vision on how I saw life, people, myself, and God, and I lived as though I had no choice about my plank! The truth is, even if we blame our planks on others...they are still there, and honestly even if we would have been loved perfectly... we still would have some kind of plank (remember our distant mother Eve? She was loved perfectly!)
Can you imagine a plank in your eye...really? How would you do anything? Sisters, how we need to stop the charades and admit our planks. How we need to be free from the secret justifications (aka blame) for our planks. Sisters how we need our planks removed so that we might see ... with truth. A dear person wisely suggested to me on this matter, "Perhaps it is not merely you who takes out the plank ... perhaps your plank is being dissolved, little by little, by the work of Jesus in you." Wait! We have planks, we need them removed, but we cannot remove them on our own?? What hope we have ... there is one who is more devoted to removing our planks!

Sisters, remember your first love ... He who has seen and known your plank all along, and loved you even still. Remember your first love who allured you to repentance with kindness, instead of shame and condemnation. Remember your first love, He who awakened you from your deadened state of numbing and/or performing. Remember your first love, He who initiated, called, and waited, and waited for you. Yes, your first love. Here's to a day to noticing our first love's work in us. Let us remember, that as life's circumstances arrive ... none is just by chance ... but each and everyone used in the hand's of our first love to slowly dissolve the plank and restore the vision intended.

No matter What by Kerrie Roberts

Baggage... Bondage or Blessing?

We all have it...baggage. No, not the luggage, purses, or bags that we so often pack full of essentials. No, baggage ... the kind that we often forget that we are carrying. This baggage is full of messages that we replay over and over again about ourselves, God, and others. This baggage is full of the names that we have been called, names of humiliation and regret. This baggage is full of hidden memories, details seared onto our hearts, minds, and souls. This baggage is full of secret questions, doubts, and fears. What do you do with your baggage? I spent many years convincing myself that my baggage had never really impacted me, if it had really existed as baggage at all! All the while, I carried not one bag... but a whole luggage set everywhere I went! Much of my energy was drained by my efforts to lug my baggage close to my side, contain it, hide it, polish it, and pretend it away. Sometimes I would trip on my baggage, and sometimes my baggage tripped up others. Baggage. The worse thing about baggage is when it blocks your view. With my baggage, I just could not see clearly. No matter how hard I would look, my view was impaired. Baggage. When it comes to baggage, do we have a choice? Really? Don't be fooled ... we all have it, but what are you going to do with it? Is it possible that our baggage, the things that once brought bruising and bondage, can actually bring blessing? Yes! Is it possible that interwoven with the grief there is deep hope? Yes! Is it possible that out of the places of desolation and isolation one can experience the love of the great Consolation? Yes! For my dear sisters who hide her baggage deeply away, carrying a burden not meant to be carried alone, my heart is in prayer for you today. The shame of such baggage only brings a bondage that you were never intended to bear. Praying that today, you might encounter the grace needed to share your baggage with another, that slowly piece by piece each might be changed from bondage to blessing. That in each baggage you might personally know and experience your true love who was with you when you first picked up the bag, and before.

"What is REAL?"

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT by Margery Williams
“The Mechanical toys were very superior, and looked down upon everyone else; they were full of modern ideas and pretended they were real. The model boat, who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity to refer to his rigging in technical terms… Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers and should have broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little rabbit was made to feel very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him was the Skin Horse.”
“What is REAL?” asked the rabbit one day … “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When (Someone) loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with (you), but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are “Real” you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are REAL, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are REAL you can’t be ugly, except to those people who don’t understand.” (pages 15-17)