Paths of Righteousness

I hate getting lost. 

Being lost. 

Having your GPS lead you only to realize it doesn’t even know how to get you where you want to go. You are lost in spite of thinking you knew where you were headed. 

I hate that even more. 

How did I end up here? This wasn’t what I was planning. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got places to be. Can’t there at least be a Starbucks on the next corner? If I’m going to be lost, at least I can find comfort in a frothy latte. 

I’m amazed how many times I’ve been here on this dead end road that was never on my map and found myself thinking whoa this is not where I was headed. How on earth did I get here? How did I wind up so angry? When did this habit become controlling? Why am I struggling with this all of the sudden? When did I become so cynical? So pessimistic? 

The answer that bubbles up in me is Life. 

Life happened. 

And life, I’m learning, is chalk full of places we never dreamed we be, thanks to the disappointing turn a relationship takes, the misunderstandings, the diagnosis, the market crash, the depression. 

The disappointments. 

Managing disappointments in life is where I get so tripped up because those darn expectations of mine have got me headed confidently in one direction only to discover I’m traveling down the wrong road. 

One that is dark and scary and not at all what I had planned on.

And no Starbucks in sight. 

This is where confusion and frustration set in. And I’m learning it is the birthplace of a harden heart. But I don’t want a hard heart. I don’t want to be cynical. 

I drag myself into God’s presence because I know no matter what state my heart is in, He is listening and that He is faithful to answer.  Honestly, I don’t even know what my prayer is but I’m thinking its pretty much a run on sentence full of emotional, messy pleas for help, ending up with the clear statement of I don’t want to be in this situation. I can’t see a way through it. I don’t know where you are going with this. 

I want to be on a different path. 

The one I had planned. 

In due time, I hear His still, small voice gently whisper these words of life to me:

He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Psalm 23:3. 

There is a path of righteousness I have for you here. There is a way to navigate through this messy situation that will be for My purposes in and through you. Let me lead you. 

And then He graciously opens my eyes that perhaps my expectations were slightly misguided and put upon things that never were going to be able to deliver. It slowly dawns on me that the misunderstandings can be an opportunity to develop a space for grace in my heart to learn to be more gracious with others. He shows me that disappointments are really HIS appointments to accomplish His work in me. He gives me the understanding I need to keep on going, instead of the temporary relief from struggle I'm desiring.

I love how it says “the paths." There is a general path of following God that every believer is called to, and then there are the specific paths in the life of the individual where faith gets personal and my very big God personally cares about the very small me. He wants to get all up in my business. Every little circumstance. Every relationship. Every ache in my heart. Every good, bad and ugly season of life. Every path I go down. 

There is a right way to navigate it. God wants to show us the way to live victoriously for Him. He wants to lead us through the really hard things and come out whole and holy on the other side. He wants to speak. 

But the truth of the matter is I have to let Him. He is not going to drag me kicking and screaming down the path of righteousness. I have to yield. I have to say "Yes Lord, lead me! Have your way! I’m listening." 

I’m discovering it’s never too late to get in step behind Him and follow in a given situation. It’s never too late to scream, “I’m lost here! I need some directions please! Show me the way!” 

It’s a humbling discovery to make, but it’s never too late to get on the righteous path and start following. I’m learning to pray for God to show me His path of righteousness for the complicated places in my life, those places I’m at a total loss on how to precede. 

Since expectations can be so tricky for me, I’m asking God to enable me to live in a place where my expectation is that He will lead me. 

“My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation.” Psalm 62:5 

When you think about it, we are always on a path headed somewhere. God’s path promises life, light, love and goodness even though it winds through the high mountains and takes us through painful valleys. 

The truth is I will travel the mountain and the valley regardless. I want to go being led by a faithful Shepherd who knows the way and can lead me on the right paths. 

I choose the path full of light and love and abundant life please! And here’s to hoping there is a Starbucks somewhere along the path!

The 26.2: No Excuses

So every once in a while, I have milestone moments. 

You know the ones that are so epic, so rare that they end up defining a whole season of life. Changing my outlook. Moments that leave me saying “did that really just happen?” Forks in the road that lead to me to new lands. 

Definitely childbirth is on that list. The day I said I do and became a wife to the most wonderful man on the planet. Yep, that was a life changer. Surrendering my life to Jesus. Completely revolutionary. 

And then there is The 26.2. 

It pales in comparison, of course, to the list I’ve just rattled off. 

But, just barely. 

It was November of 2011. My running girls were tossing around the marathon idea and I have to say it was a bit like a polite game of hot potato meets throwing down the gauntlet, daring the brave ones to step up and show us what you’re made of. 

Running a marathon was on my bucket list for sure, but it was definitely written in pencil. It was a take it or leave it item that I’m not so sure I was all that serious about. 

But here it was. Starring me in the face. Daring me. And I felt something in my heart sing It’s now or never. The timing was right. 

So I registered. 

I remember the moment I pressed enter on the registration page felt a little bit like the moment I knew I was pregnant for the first time. Elated. Challenged. Scared. A little sickish, and a whole lotta what did I just get myself into? 

Will I have what it takes? Can I handle this pressure? My knees?? What about my knees? 

With all the self doubt running amuck and excuses choking every breath, I had a decision to make. Right then and there I had to name the year. 2012 became my year of “No Excuses.” 

It had to be. 

I knew that to see this commitment through to the finish line I was going to have to be vigilant. Dedicated. The captain of a tight ship. A little less like my normal self and a whole lot more like the person I hope to become. 

But to be honest, that’s about all I knew. Little did I know how that initial commitment would soon turn into a way of life, that “No excuses” would be the very theme that woke me up at the ungodly hour of 6am to run 12 miles in the pouring rain. No excuses would teach me to analyze I every piece of food, every drink, based on it’s ability to fuel my body to help it achieve the unthinkable task I was asking it to do.  IT band issues, ice baths, sore muscles, mental defeat, blisters, losing toenails, 18 miles in snow flurries. Chaffing. And did I mention ICE BATHS?! 

No excuses. 

Run.

Because the experience was such a personal life changer for me, I’m certain this is the first of many posts about The 26.2. But with every epic tale, I have to start at the beginning. And the beginning for me was that day I registered and decided in my heart “No Excuses”. 

Did I know completely what this would require of me? No. How could I? But much like marriage and parenting and every amazingly awesome but wickedly hard journey God calls us to, The 26.2 was much more than just a registration. And it was much more than a race. Oh no, my friends. It became a cocoon of transformation that God would use to change me. It became a living, breathing illustration for me of that amazing race that we are running called life. 

I love how the Bible written so long ago by men who I have so little in common with by all other accounts, liken the Christian life to being in a race. While I had understood it in theory, I feel as if The 26.2 gave me a tangible story of my own to cling to and understand. Words like endurance and perseverance suddenly began to leap off the page at me and say “Hey! remember me? We met at mile 22.”  

It makes so much more sense to me now.  At registration, very little is required of you. But, by golly, a whole lot is expected of you by the end of that race. 

I once heard it said that salvation is both an act and a process. The moment I believe on the Lord Jesus and placed my trust in Him alone to save me, I was saved completely. I was saved from myself, from sin, from Hell. 

But I wasn’t just saved from something. I was saved to Someone—Jesus, and to a life of daily transformation into His image.  

So that day I signed up was a huge first step. But then the real work starts. The training.  Really, the decision to race means very little if I now don’t act on that decision everyday to prepare to finish the race. If I don’t equip myself, ready my muscles, condition my heart and prepare my mind to endure, will I finish well? I want to finish my life having worked my faith out hard, backing up that first commitment to Christ with a lifetime of training (Phil 2:12). 

Even when it’s hard and I don’t feel like it. It’s time for the process of training to take over and change me. Taking me to places I never thought I could go. Learning to exert what I want over what my body wants. Exercising to a point that I stretch, learn, grow and change. Teaching myself to pay attention and not just do what I feel, but rather do what is best and what will help me achieve my goal. Pushing through the sore places and irritations. Always keeping the end in mind. What is ahead is worth it. Stay strong. Don’t give up. 

No Excuses.

Run.

There would be no race without the registration. But equally so, there would be no finish line without the training. 

Both are required. Both are necessary. 

Every great work in us and through us has a starting place. A birthplace. A launchpad. We have to sign up. We have to have the courage to say yes. 

Then we must honor that starting place by putting feet to our faith, and just get moving, trusting that God has the plan and the process to get us to the finish line. 

Trust the training. God knows what He is doing. And let me tell you, there is nothing more glorious than rounding the corner to see that finish line! 

No Excuses!

“Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans, cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running –and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we are in. Study how he did it. Because He never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilaration finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: cross, shame, whatever. And now He is there, in the place of honor, right alongside God.” Hebrews 12:1-2 The Message Bible

EMO for Jesus

So I’ve recently discovered I’m a bit of an emotional handful. How’d I come to that conclusion you ask? Hmmmm. Well let’s see. There was a lot of crying, some whimpering and I vaguely remember being curled up in a fetal position and my kids asking Dad if Mommy was going to be okay. 

I’m not talking about the kind of emotional that everyone experiences, you know, the tearing up at a Folgers’s commercial from time to time. I’m talking about a gut wrenching, incapacitating, messy kind of emotion where there is some borderline irrational craziness happening. 

I know there is a whole group of you reading this now that know me and would like to talk me out of this assessment of myself. And then there are the few, the proud and the brave who have seen me at the brink and they are saying “Geesh! You are JUST NOW realizing this? What took you so long?”  

My relationship with my feelings has been a touchy one and here is why. 

They have lied to me. On more than one occasion. 

And once you’ve been deceived, trust is just hard to come by. And also, the weight of emotions—the sadness, the grief and sorrow—seems wrong because they can be so heavy. So controlling. So bossy. That something must be wrong with me because I feel so fragile, easily broken by the sorrowful things in my world. 

So I’ve tried toughening up. I’ve man handled my feelings to attempt to create the feelings I want instead of the feelings I’m having-- all in the name of holy living. A practice I now acknowledge as holy stuffing. Somewhere along the line I’ve believed that airing your feelings isn’t right or good or holy. So I just swallow it. There are pros and cons to this habit of mine, but topping the cons list is the eventual end of my holy stuffing results in something resembling a volcanic eruption spewing hot, deathly lava on anyone who happens to be in my path when I finally encounter that last straw. And can I just say right here that blowing your top is not very holy? Not holy at all. 

My wrestling with all of this, of course, desperately drives me to the One who promises me wisdom if I just ask. So I take Him up on it.  In my estimation, I come to Him with a pretty funny question.

Why am I so emotional? Is it part of the curse of sin? I know emotions are good, but why do they feel so bad sometimes? Most of the time? I mean was Eve crazy emotional? 

I laugh a little as I write that last part, but honestly, this is where my nutty EMO self has landed me and I needed some answers and some “how to”--and fast.  I open up my Bible and I read this descriptor of Jesus,

  “He is despised and rejected by men, A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” Isaiah 53:3 

And right at that moment, I sense the whisper of God saying 

I’m emotional too. Your emotions are of me. Their control of you is not of me. And there’s your trouble.

I go on to read Isaiah 53 foretelling how Jesus would feel grief and sadness and sorrow. How He would suffer and die for the sins of the world, so we could be reconciled to God all the while feeling every emotion possible and yet not sinning. Not only did He not sin, He carried the sin of the world. My sin. Talk about weight.  

I think of how many times I’ve allowed my emotions to rule my thoughts, justify my wrong behavior, excuse myself from doing the right thing, side track and side line me from life because I just couldn’t possibly handle it. 

And herein lies my example for being rightly related to my emotions: Jesus felt it all, but it did not govern Him. God the Father alone governed his heart and life. His emotions did not rule Him, but rather they fueled Him to seek the face and strength of His Father to accomplish His purpose on the earth.

And so the question I’m left with is “Who governs this heart? Who is in charge here?” 

Hands down, I know the answer to this question in the big picture of my life.  What I’m realizing though is it’s my answer in the dark of the night, when chaos abounds and temptation is knocking and my emotions are all running amuck that matters. 

My questions then turn to prayers, to pleadings for God to be the gatekeeper of my heart.  I ask Him to teach me to bring my emotions to Him, to help me to sift, sort, think and evaluate based on what is true and right. To counsel this stubborn and fickle heart about building my house on the rock rather than the shifting sand of my ever changing emotions. To learn to stay in the posture of waiting on God until my emotions are saturated with grace and truth. I’m learning to abide in His presence until my emotions no longer rule, but rather fuel my steps to go to deeper places with Jesus. My emotions are becoming indicators, warning lights to check into what’s really going on under the hood, not impulses to be obeyed. A “Service heart soon” light that blinks continuously reminding me I need God’s presence to sort this out before I go any further down the road. 

After my Holy Spirit counseling session and we’ve debrief all my willy nilly emotions, issues and faulty thinking and God has purified, sanctified and righted all my off base conclusions, then I can receive my marching orders.  Actions that are steeped in God’s wisdom not my emotions. A life that is effective, purposeful and powerful where my emotions are utilized for God’s grand purposes not my futile excuses. 

All of this has led to a fresh new season both in my relationship with God and my emotions as I’m exchanging emotional rule for fuel. I’m trading in my label of “Emotional handful” for “EMO for Jesus".  

And let me tell you something: It feels good.

Tone Down Your Awesomeness

So I’m realizing I’ve made a lot of moves in my lifetime. Like since my husband and I married we have moved eleven times. I’m sure those military wives out there have me beat by a long shot. But for little old me, when I’m sitting around being all nostalgic, it’s a large number. Gobs of places and faces and friendships. And a lot of possible friendships that just never got off the ground. Sometimes you can identify why, but most the time you can’t put your finger on it and you move on. 

I think friendship comes in many shapes and sizes and you can’t always figure out why it’s magically delicious with one person and feels like you are getting a continual root canal with another. In my mucho relocation and innumerable attempts to forge new friendships in new towns, I have seen a common principle at work. 

We women are always sizing one another up.

Judging. Comparing.  And then drawing conclusions about ourselves as a result. 

You go to someone’s home that resembles a Pottery Barn catalog and have just the most amazing time hearing all about her wonderful home schooling, her latest adventures in cooking gourmet PALEO meals and how she manages her wildly successful Etsy business crafting furniture out of reclaimed barn wood in her spare time. And by the way, she is training for the Iron Man while raising money to fund her very own after school program in the inner city. It’s not 30 seconds out the door and my head is swimming in crazy thoughts usually preceded with “Well she is just awesome!” and then followed up with a quick “and she is never coming to my house.”

I hate that these are my first thoughts. And I hate that I’m always comparing. My very wise sister in law once told me “Compare Despair.”  I’m not comparing 10 seconds before my heart is on the fast track to despair. About my house, my disorganization, my dysfunction and my full onself.  I can’t stand the fact that I’ve already closed my heart to the possibility of true friendship with this woman because I’ve drawn the conclusion that I’m not good enough for her. That I could never let her in. I’m comparing the entirety of all the crazy I know about my life and self to the wondrous sliver she chosen to reveal to me about hers.

Now, here’s the deal. I know I have been the woman on the other side plenty a time. I’m sure that I have portrayed myself at one time or other to be a fabulous specimen of a woman with all the answers, the best recipes and the keys to the kingdom. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve cleaned my house—ALL DAY—when we have guests coming because I want them to think my house is always this clean. 

It’s natural to want to admired and esteemed. Bottom line, I want people to think I’m awesome. 

And this, I’m learning, has gotten in the way of what I really need.  

I think I want people to think I’m perfect, but what I really need is to be loved when I am anything but perfect.

God has a special knack of refining what it is you want. Yes I want people to think I’m amazing. Kind of like a 2 year old wants the room to all focus on him. But God loves me too much to leave me here, tottling around demanding, “Look at me! Ain’t I something?” 

He reminds me it’s time to grow up. Mature. Change. He whispers to me that though I want esteem and approval from others, I want other things more.  More important things. Things like real, honest, vulnerable friendships. Things like the focus being on Him instead of me. His glory instead of mine. He is showing me I want His power residing over my relationships, not my perfection. True sharing, not comparing. Definitely not despairing.

It pains me now to think of someone walking away from time with me drawing wrong conclusions about themselves, just like I’ve done a million times leaving that perfect house that, of course, has their secret issues that I will never know about. And so my question for God is how do I prevent that? How do I stop the vicious cycle in my heart and the hearts of the women I encounter? 

The answer whispered to my heart is from 2 Corinthians 12 about Paul boasting in his weaknesses. He talks about in verse 9 how Jesus said to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” And then Paul goes on to say, “I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore, I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12: 9-10)

In this chapter I see a man wrestling with allowing others to draw their own conclusions based on what they see of his life, but then needing to say in a sense, “hey, you need to know the truth. I will only boast about my weaknesses, downsides, faults and shortcomings.  Let me tell you all about these things and how God is working in spite of and through them. That way, when good comes out of my life, it’s all because of Jesus.”

I think of Paul. Pastor. Speaker. Author of most of the New Testament. And I think of him making the choice to boast only in his shortcomings. His weaknesses. It makes me think how selective I am about whom I am honest with about my weaknesses. The things I’m trying to hide, compensate for and hope people never uncover. But here He is boasting ONLY in these things. Talk about bringing the honesty. And the intimacy. He is so confident that Christ is going to use these things to speak to people. That these things are going to unlock Christ’s power to work in and through him. That his life is going to speak for itself.

In light of these things, I’m learning to open the door and say “hello and welcome. Sorry the house is a mess but I figure we are going to be great friends and you might as well know the truth now.”

I’m also learning to bring the vulnerability and honesty with me everywhere I go. Sometimes it doesn’t show up until it is my mouth opening it into the room and then—BAM! The conversation can go to new places of honesty all because I spoke first about my weakness, struggles or shortcomings. Comparing and despairing is replaced with sharing, surrender and the power of Christ unlocked to do His work.

And one last thing, I’m learning to tone down my awesomeness—or at least my drive for you to think I’m awesome. I ain’t gonna lie, if I know you are coming over I will be cleaning the toilets and removing the laundry from the couch. However, I’m going to stop believing the lie that perfection is what you are looking for and what I am hoping you will find. I’m going to be me, which has some awesomeness in there somewhere, but I’m going to be quick to share about my struggles, insecurities, and weaknesses in the hopes that Christ’s power in my life will be evident and maybe that will encourage you to tone down your awesomeness too and our new found friendship will be on the fast track to real, honest and amazing.

Now that’s just awesome.

Blaze of Glory

There is something to be said about getting kicked in the teeth.  

I mean, nobody wants that to happen but oh the lessons you learn. Nothing stings like not seeing it coming. Trusting with your whole heart only to be punched in the gut with betrayal, disappointment or maybe just flat out rejection. 

With all the good lessons learned—the ones you reason with your head—also comes the natural conclusions you draw and believe in your heart. The agreements you make with yourself deep down in the dark corners of your soul that take root and become beliefs about yourself, others and about the way love works. 

The heart develops something like a natural flinch that whispers “I’ve been down this road and guess what? I’m not going through that again."

What the mouth speaks about it’s all good and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, the soul harbors another story and I’m finding it’s very often the one that governs our future actions. 

Loving people and opening up can hurt and so the wounded part pleads to play it safe. Closed. Unattached. Protected. 

These days I find myself with a rather toothless grin constantly weighing these two paths—the risky path of loving vs. the safe way of isolation. 

I hate these are on continuous scales of my heart, weighing the risk of engaging. But if I’m honest with myself, my biggest temptation is to retreat. Withdrawal. Protect myself from rejection. But I have to be equally honest and say truly it is one of my deepest needs—to be fully open and vulnerable with another person and loved completely for it, perhaps in spite of it. 

When I bring all this into the throne room of grace and ask God to shed some light on this dark and difficult place, I hear the truth. 

It hurts either way. 

My perceived way of safety, isolation and control may prevent others from hurting me, but in a sense I’m really hurting myself. Sure, I’m saving myself from the hurt other people might inflict, but I’m also separating myself from something I was created to do—love others. And let others love me. That’s why lonely hurts so bad. 

If it’s true that both paths involve hurting, then really I can choose my poison. There is some serious freedom that comes with that. 

But there is something else. Something more at stake that is bigger than my feelings, my heart or even my choices. I hear Him whisper, 

My glory is at stake here. 

In every decision I make to open up instead of shutdown, to be vulnerable instead of prideful, to love instead of protect my self, I’m displaying God’s image. In my choice to keep loving despite the risks, I’m reflecting His character. God says we look most like Him when we love like Him. (1 John 4:7-12) 

Who could understand my dilemma better?  When faced with it, He did not choose the road that leads to safe, pretty packaged life all tied up with ribbons and bows. He didn’t choose self-protection or self-preservation because life is hard and doesn’t play fair. He chose the hard, suffering, painful path that landed Him on a cross. He bled and died and has the battle scars to prove it. He chose love and He keeps on choosing it. 

How thankful I am that He didn’t retreat because loving people is hurtful. It makes me see my battle wounds in a different light. Jesus was shot down in a blaze of glory. Painful yes, but effective and powerful and life altering for the whole world. 

This is my theme song now as I weigh the paths—thank you Bon Jovi! Sure, I could play it safe, retreat and live in my protective bubble. Alone. Sidelined. Ineffective. 

Or I could—queue the music—go down in a blaze of glory, yes taking on some serious wounds. But along with those scars, I’ve got some glorious stories of transformation—my own and others—and some incredible experiences of living out my God given opportunity to reflect His glory in this world. To be used by Him even if it ends painfully, knowing that my feeble attempts to love are met with God’s power to accomplish His plan.  

If I’m going down either way and I have a choice in the matter, I want to go down in a blaze of love. A blaze of glory. 

In each seemly insignificant relational quandary, there lurks the opportunity to be on fire for God in this world. His heart. His purposes. His glory.  I think my question is do I want to be in the battle or nursing my wounds on the sidelines? The choice is always mine. 

Hurt is along both paths. His glory is only along one. 

I’m thankful He overlooks my superficial desire for easy and safe and invites me to join Him in the risky, messy business of loving people. 

It’s worth the risk.