I feel weary. Hot, cranky and thirsty for something other than swamp water.
You too? Discouraged about the state of our democracy if you live in the U.S.? Tempted to move to Australia? Nervous about the direction the conversation will take when you’re out at dinner with friends? Longing for Jesus to bring peace and understanding?
We’re all desperate – thirsty for something other than uncertainty, tension, anxiety-producing news and social media rants.
I love the way Cary Neuwhoff states it. We need to“Drink from a deeper well.”
In order to drink from a deeper well, maybe we have to drink less from the brackish, contaminated streams of of culture, and more from the Living Water.
But what does that mean, practically??!!! Here are a few ideas:
1. Unfollow social media accounts that bring out resentment or discouragement in you.
No, I’m NOT advocating “cancel culture”. It’s important to listen to voices with different perspectives from us, but there are also those who are unhealthy for our soul.
You can also turn on notifications for those accounts that inspire or encourage you. Or star them as favorites.
2. Limit news consumption – both the amount of time you spend and who you listen to.
“What percentage of your thoughts are a regurgitation of the the news you’re watching or the social media you’re following, and what percentage of your thoughts are a revelation from the Word of God?”
Mark batterson
It’s so tempting to listen to the news that reinforces our bias. Maybe reconsider your news source?
3.Stop multi-tasking God.
Holy buckets I’m guilty of this! I love being productive – like texting a friend while I’m microwaving a burrito and checking the mail. Here’s a suggestion:
Turn off any noise. Put your phone and laptop in another room (your kids too! Check out this suggestion!)
Read all of Psalm 46. Go on! I’ll wait while you do it.
Now just take verse 10.
Be still and know that I am God
Psalm 46:10
Read the whole sentence and then pause.
Next read the verse leaving out the last word. Pause and reflect on that.
Keep reading the verse, omitting another word from the end and pausing to reflect, until you’re only saying one word: BE.
What suggestions would you add? We will all benefit from your wisdom if you post in the comments below!
If you live anywhere Up North like I do, you will probably know the feeling of the first summer excursion on “the lake” – always Memorial Day weekend. It may be 30 degrees or 70 degrees, but it’s usually blustery and you wear the Minnesota “uniform” of sweatshirt and shorts.
It’s the weekend when all the boat piers get put in and you’re so anxious for it to truly be summer that you screw up your courage and jump into the icy cold water at least once to say you did.
Remember the “Memorial Day Weekend jump-in-the-lake” story in the Gospels? It’s a dark and windy night on the Sea of Galilee in Matthew 14 when the disciples are in their boat alone and are being “buffeted by the waves”.
Jesus scares them by coming out to them walking on the water (you know, the way you do if you’re God, right?). He reassures the disciples that it really is Him and not the Ghost of Christmas Past, but Peter says “Prove it! If it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”
Jesus says “Ok, come on out!”
Peter clambers over the side of the boat and starts walking, but then he looks around him at what the wind is whipping up and starts to sink.
Like a harness on a ropes course, Scripture says, “Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand.”
What was it that motivated Peter to get out of the boat? Jesus’ invitation? Fear of the alternative without Jesus? A sense of adventure?
This story got me thinking about the different things that prompt any of us to get out of our boats of same ol’ same ol’.
3 things that God may use to get out of your boat:
1.Invitation (this may be the least likely one, so read on!)
I had a lunch meeting nine years ago. The purpose was for me to help a World Vision guy do some brainstorming and networking. At least that’s what Ithought.
I’m pretty creative. I’m good atideas. I’m also good at making work for other people. It’s a gift. So I was feeling good about meeting with Bradley (the guy) and giving him some ideas. That is until he finished telling his story, turned to me and said, “I want you to run a half-marathon with Team World Vision to raise money for clean water in Zambia.”
What the what?! Not much surprises me. Even less than that leaves me speechless. This did.
I don’t run. Unless I’m running from a bear.
As I reflected on the possibility, Fear whispered in my ear:
What if you really can’t do it? What if you don’t finish?
What if you let people down?
What if you don’t raise any money?
Honestly, one of the loudest whispers was: This will be a painful, grueling boatload of work and you don’t want to do it.
But there was this invitation that said, “Get out of the boat. This is more important than your discomfort.”
Years ago in Zambia I danced with women as a well was dug and fresh water gushed out. They sang “Come and see what God has done.” The old woman next to me spoke in wonder “He saw us. He answered our prayers.” I thought, “Wouldn’t be incredible to part of an answer to someone’s prayers?”I think, in this case, God’s answer to the fear of getting out of my boat was “What ifI run with you and do something bigger in and through you for others than you think is possible?”
Sometimes an invitation from others is also an invitation from God to get out of your boat.
2. Loss
Six years ago, a dear friend of ours died suddenly, leaving his wife as a relatively young widow. Her grief was intensified as well-meaning people made thoughtless comments or unhelpful gestures.
As an introvert, she would have liked to stay curled up in her bed all day every day, but instead, she got out of her boat (that looked like a bed). She created a class to help people learn to sensitively walk alongside their friends experiencing trauma or loss. This was hard and scary, but it gave her purpose in the midst of her grief, and it equipped others in a much needed way.
Sometimes stepping out of your boat means turning mourning into mission.
3. Need
About 10 years ago our daughter Maggie was doing a summer internship at a girls’ school in northern Uganda. Her job was to create a sex ed curriculum, but in the process of discerning where to start, she discovered that most of the girls were missing 3-4 days of school a month when they had their period, because they lacked resources to buy sanitary napkins (tampons are culturally inappropriate). There was a need that had huge consequences for the education of girls.
Maggie could have just stuck to her assignment, but getting out of her boat meant finding ways to innovate. The school included training the girls in sewing, so Maggie googled how to make reusable sanitary napkins and taught the girls how to make their own.
For her husband, Austin, getting out of his boat looked like carrying cartons of disposable sanitary napkins I had collected here in the states through customs on his first international trip. He delivered them to Maggie in Uganda, so they could also keep a closet of these for emergency needs.
Sometimes stepping out of your boat means tackling insufficiency with innovation.
Can you relate to any of these? Has there been a time when you’ve been prompted to “get out of your boat”? What happened? Share in comments!
During Covid I did a puzzle that absolutely drove me crazy. There was so much white. And black. And pieces that looked the same.
It took a tremendous amount of patience and perseverance (two things that are NOT my strong suit!). I actually came to see it as a spiritual discipline – stretching muscles that ached and didn’t want to be stretched.
I wrote last week that we’re in a season of transition, like many of you are. Again, this is not my strong suit. The hundreds of white puzzle pieces, like ordinary days can seem to be baffling. Where do they go? How do they help make sense of the whole?
When we read Bible stories we can see the whole picture. We can jump to the end and see how things turn out. But David didn’t know how things were going to unfold when he had been anointed king, and Saul was chasing him around the countryside trying to kill him! Esther didn’t know the specifics of God’s plan to use her to save the Jews. They trusted God and took the next right step.
A friend of mine said to me, “I wish I had known on May 5th that I would have a job on Dec. 5th. Because I didn’t, I lived in the house of fear.”
Here are 3 suggestions for when God is puzzling:
1. Step back and thank God for the bigger picture that He is creating with all the pieces of your life – the boring white ones, the confusing ones, the seemingly ugly ones, and the beautiful ones.
..keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.
1 peter 1:10-11
2. Remind yourself of God’s sovereignty. He knows what we don’t know. He sees what we don’t see. He is a good God.
We humans keep brainstorming options and plans, but God’s purpose prevails.
Proverbs 19:21 MSG
3. Ask: Lord, what do you want to refine in me through this?
We are not defined by our circumstances, but merely refined through them. We can view our circumstances as happening to us or for us.
Friends, when life gets really difficult, don’t jump to the conclusion that God isn’t on the job. Instead, be glad that you are in the very thick of what Christ experienced. This is a spiritual refining process, with glory just around the corner.
1 Peter 4:12-13
If you’re going through a time of change, you might also like to sign up for my free resource to help you process with the Lord. It will give you Scripture and some journal prompts.
I’d love to hear what kind of change you’re navigating in the comments below!
The sweet aroma of lilacs envelops me as I bike under the canopy of leafy trees, shading our street. I breathe deep and whisper a prayer of gratitude.
A friend of mine calls this “the lifiest time of the year.” The peonies are finally ready to bloom. The grass needs mowing.
It’s June. Your high-schooler or kindergartener or college student is graduating. Someone is getting married and someone is having a baby and others are starting new jobs or moving.
With the celebration of every new “lifey” thing, there is also a releasing, even a grieving for what is ending or dying.
We have recently moved from California back to Minnesota where life has gone on without us. I’m grieving not having an in-person church home anymore, not having family nearby, not having a clear calling in this season…But I’m also celebrating the lakes and reconnecting with old friends.
Years ago, a mentor of mine likened navigating seasons of change to being a trapeze artist. There is that scary moment when you have to let go of one bar to grab onto the new one coming towards you. The new bar may be exciting, but it also may be hard to let go of the one you’ve been holding.
How do we courageously let go of the past and reach for the future? Can we honestly name the deaths without missing the new life…celebrating both the new blessings, and those of the past?
Some big transitions we naturally mark with ceremonies, or family gatherings, but what about the smaller, quieter changes?
Maybe you need to look back through old photos or journals, have a good cry and buy a new one, yielding the next season to God’s will.
It might look like a discussion around your family dinner table, each person naming one joy of the past season that they’ll miss, and one thing they’re looking forward to.
Maybe it will mean taking a walk with a friend, processing the valuable lessons you’ve learned, and any invitation from God you’re sensing in the coming season. There may be things you are glad to leave behind.
Or it might look like praying with open hands, naming the things you’re relinquishing, while thanking God for the new experiences that await you, trusting in His creative life-giving goodness. If you’re facing challenges in this next season it may mean praying for the courage to make hard choices.
Lord, today I celebrate Your goodness and faithfulness in this past season – the gift of friendships, new adventures, a clear place to belong, and assignments from You. I confess I miss these gifts, but I also anticipate Your kindness and direction in this next season. I yield myself to You. I want to greet each day with an adventurously expectant, “What’s next, Papa?” May Your will be my delight. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
What are you leaving behind? What are you anticipating as you reach forward?Stay tuned for a free resource to help you reflect with God and set yourself up for a flourishing new season!
On this blog I share stories from my life, but my deepest prayer is that they wouldn’t be just about me, but about all of us and our quest to see the hand of God in all of life. Even though this was written 10 years ago, and a lot has changed, I hope it’s meaningful for parents and sons and daughters alike.
A Letter to my Daughters, May, 2012
Dear Precious Girls,
As I write this we’re on our third flight coming home from Sri Lanka, through Mumbai and Amsterdam. Too much time to think. Feeling out of sync with time changes, and nostalgic, and ready to sleep in my own bed and be in a normal summer routine that includes Minnesota lakes and green grass.
In this season, traveling to exotic places, experiencing the humidity and dust of ancient cultures, the taste of unusual spices and the the smell of incense and poverty, I am grateful. But I also long for home and the simplicity of summer days when you both were little.
Playing Monopoly and hopscotch on the driveway, picking strawberries, and making water balloons, and walking to the library as we were serenaded by cicadas. Creating forts and reading Betsy, Tacy, and Tib aloud on hot summer afternoons that we savored like melting popsicles, slurping up the goodness of the day.
I think in contrast, of this season of your life now, as young professional women living in D.C. where you have a vibrant faith community, stimulating dialog about important ideas, and the opportunity to experience Supreme Court arguments, Embassy receptions, and White House fireworks. A good, good season.
I want you to savor every moment, drink up every drop. To choose life in all its fullness.
This is the season of your life when you’ll set courageous goals and experience lovely victories and maybe fall flat on your face some too. You’ll nurture friendships, look to wise mentors, and invest in causes that are deeply meaningful.
It’s the season when you get to ask yourself, “What story do I want to be able to tell in fifteen years?”
Will it matter what Netflix you binged on, or that you had the courage to stand up for what’s right, or learned the name of the homeless guy on your corner, or invited that lonely person to church? What will you remember? What will make a difference? What will grow your character?
In this season I pray you’ll pause, not only to acknowledge the good gifts, but also the Gift Giver. Yeah, I know there are rough days with job stress, and not enough money, and bad hair days, and questions about what’s next and where, but still…
I may be tempted to look back with longing, and you to look forward with longing, but meanwhile there’s today. Gregory Boyle quotes Thich Nhat Hahn saying “our true home is the present moment.”
The Desert Fathers would repeat one word over and over. Not “Jesus” or “Love”, but the word, “today”. It reminded them where they needed to be.
So today, where you are, and where I am, let’s just choose life and thanksgiving in the present. God is good. We get to sing “Great is Thy Faithfulness” in every season. May He write an inspiring paragraph through your life today.
And when you come home this summer for a visit, let’s be sure to play Monopoly and go to Dairy Queen.
love,
Mama
What are you praying for your children? Let me know in the comments and I’ll join you in prayer.
It’s summertime, which for me conjures up memories of being at the “Lake House” with my cousins, perpetually in a wet swim suit, rarely out of the lake. One of the many games we would play was “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying”.
Ok, it wasn’t a real active game, but you know…simple pleasures. And nobody actually died so our parents considered it a win.
Sometimes, as adults, without even thinking about it, we play life like the “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying” game.
When I started running, I became much more aware of the importance of rhythm and rest, and basics. Like breathing. And not holding our breath til we, you know, pass out.
This is not about Sabbath, butSelah. Selah is a term used mostly in the Psalms and a few times in Habbakuk that is a bit of a mystery. Scholars aren’t positive what it means, but they think it means “rest” or “pause”.
Mark Batterson says, like in music, if Sabbath is a full rest, maybe Selah is a sixteenth rest. A chance to catch your breath.
Or maybe Selah is the life jacket that helps us pop up above the water of everyday stress.
If, as Eugene Peterson says, Sabbath is a day of “shutting down and shutting up.” maybe Selahmoments are those in your day where you stop to think about breathing.Reorient, and remember that you’re not in control, but you know the One who is.
Maybe Selah is a chance to:
Let go. Unclench your hands and surrender to the one who is God since we are not. I have to pray the Welcoming Prayer as a reminder to myself: “Holy Spirit, I let go of my need for approval. Welcome. I let go of my need for power and control. Welcome. I let go of my need to change any person, circumstance or emotion. Welcome.”
Look. “Look at the birds of the air…” Pay attention to the miracles all around. I’m trying to be disciplined in stopping, standing still outside and looking around, praying: “Creator God, thank you for…”
Listen. Our speaking comes out of our listening. What we say comes out of what we hear. We can pray: “Lord, what do you have to say to me about Yourself and myself today?” Listen to words about God’s character in Psalm 46 where Selah is written in the margin in most translations after verse 3.
Mark Buchanan put it this way: When we don’t rest we’re in danger of letting ourselves be “consumed by the things that feed the ego but starve the soul.”
Stopping to breathe in the goodness and sufficiency of God gives oxygen to our souls.
Selah.
You don’t have to hold your breath all day. Consider setting an alarm on your phone to remind you to stop and breathe. (Isn’t it crazy how natural that is for kids? And puppies? They delight in the breaths of each moment.)
What does Selah look like for you?
This is an edited repost from the past. Because I need to remind myself to breathe 🙂
Note:This is a repost from years ago – a reminder for myself.
It’s summertime, which for me conjures up memories of being at the “Lake House” with my cousins, perpetually in a wet swim suit, rarely out of the lake. One of the many games we would play was “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying”.
Ok, it wasn’t a real active game, but you know…simple pleasures. And nobody actually died so our parents considered it a win.
Sometimes, as adults, without even thinking about it, we playlife like the “who-can-hold-their-breath-longest-without-dying” game.
When I started running, I became much more aware of the importance of rhythm and rest, and basics. Likebreathing. And not holding our breath til we, you know, pass out.
This is not about Sabbath, butSelah. Selah is a term used mostly in the Psalms and a few times in Habbakuk that is a bit of a mystery. Scholars aren’t positive what it means, but they think it means “rest” or “pause”.
Mark Batterson says, like in music, if Sabbath is a full rest, maybe Selah is a sixteenth rest. A chance to catch your breath.
Or maybe Selah is the life jacket that helps us pop up above the water of everyday stress.
If, as Eugene Peterson says, Sabbath is a day of “shutting down and shutting up.” maybe Selah moments are those in your day where you stop to think about breathing.Reorient, and remember that you’re not in control, but you know the One who is.
But even if you don’t pray the hours, maybe Selah is a chance to
Let go. Unclench your hands and surrender to the one who is God since we are not. I have to pray the Welcoming Prayer as a reminder to myself: “Holy Spirit, I let go of my need for approval. Welcome. I let go of my need for power and control. Welcome. I let go of my need to change any person, circumstance or emotion. Welcome.”
Look. “Look at the birds of the air…” Pay attention to the miracles all around. I’m trying to be disciplined in stopping, standing still outside and looking around, praying: “Creator God, thank you for…”
Listen. Our speaking comes out of our listening. What we say comes out of what we hear. Listen to words about God’s character in Psalm 46where Selah is written in the margin in most translations after verse 3.
Mark Buchanan put it this way: When we don’t rest we’re in danger of letting ourselves be “consumed by the things that feed the ego but starve the soul.”
Stopping to breathe in the goodness and sufficiency of God gives oxygen to our souls.
Selah.
You don’t have to hold your breath all day. Consider setting an alarm on your phone to remind you to stop and breathe. (Isn’t it crazy how natural that is for kids? And puppies? They delight in the breaths of each moment.)
I was at war. In case you’re a pacifist reading this blog, I thought it only fair I should warn you.
I’m usually a peaceful person, but was pushed and I fought back. My enemy? The psycho squirrels who live in our yard and were trying to occupy new territory in our garage.
It all started when we did a little trimming on the large maple tree in our back yard. Part of it had died, leaving a hollow branch – a branch that squirrels had found to be a cozy condo during our long Minnesota winters. I think they had installed a fireplace and a Jacuzzi.
Well we desperately wanted to save it so we had to cut it back. I’m not sure, but we might have damaged their Jacuzzi.
This seemed to irritate them. The next thing I know I’m sitting on the patio under the tree and a squirrel hurls a grenade at me! Ok, not a grenade, but close. I’m not kidding! Here’s the evidence.
Before I knew it, every time I went outside there was a defiant squirrel blocking my path, basically saying “Make my day!” in that evil squirrely way they have. Every time I went into the garage to get in the car I could feel them watching me.
So about now you may be wondering two things. Is this woman crazy? And what does this have to do with paying attention to God or the Ukraine?
Well, the other day my husband John and I had a little “discussion”. We both wanted to go two different places together, but….there was some disagreement on the mode of transportation, the exact timing and the goals and objectives we wanted to accomplish at said destinations (you know, the crucial stuff you have to decide when going to the store and to a party).
We got into this intense conversation that we agreed was RIDICULOUS, and went on for a length of time I’m embarrassed to admit. In the middle of our fight I thought, “SQUIRREL! This is a ‘squirrel’! Why are we wasting time and energy trying to exert control over this?”
Later I was reflecting on this as I was walking and the song “Instruments of Peace” came on.
In my little world, whether it’s an argument with my husband, or an issue with a colleague that requires forgiveness, or a random encounter with someone very different from me it’s not World Peace, but… maybe it’s still important.
I may not have the platform or influence of Brené Brown, but maybe for today God is calling me to pursue peace with the “squirrels” in my life.
“Make us, instruments of peace. Where there’s hatred let love reign.”
Maybe today it means building a bridge by talking to someone I don’t think I have anything in common with.
“Make us, instruments of peace. In dissonance bring harmony.”
Having a hard conversation and reallylistening to the perspective of someone I think I disagree with.
“Make us, instruments of peace. Bringing hope to hopeless things.”
Letting go of my need for control and dying to my own agenda.
“Oh Prince of Peace your song we sing, To be sons and daughters of the king.”
Praying God’s blessing on someone who has refused to forgive me.
“Salaam. Shalom.”
It’s not world peace, but maybe we need to start small. With squirrels.
What does pursuing peace look like in your world today?
“Ordinary.” Ugh. What a terrible word! It’s mundane, boring, like “fine” (the official “f word” in our family), monotonous…
We are entering into the part of the church’s liturgical year called “Ordinary Time”. It is every day that isn’t Advent, Christmas, Lent, or Easter.
I may not like the way it sounds, but as I was walking our daughter’s dog the other day, a question captured my attention that impacted the way I think of ordinary time.
First of all, the shepherds are my favorites in the Christmas story. So I was thinking about them when a question formed.
They have this wham bam shazam encounter with a heavenly host, go to Bethlehem and meet the baby they’ve been told is the Messiah, return to their fields telling everyone the latest gossip about their experience, but then what?
It’s 30 years before Jesus starts His ministry. What do the shepherds do in the ordinary in between time?
What does “ordinary” life look like after their extraordinary experience?
Do people mock them when something different doesn’t happen right away?
Do they follow Jesus when He goes public?
Are the same shepherds alive when Jesus is crucified and comes back to life?
I think too about Mary and all the ordinary days she experienced before and after Jesus’ birth. If Mary hadn’t gotten to know God’s character on the ordinary days before the angel told her she was pregnant, she wouldn’t have been able to trust Him on the extraordinary days.
“…we live in the utterly mundane. We exist in the bathrooms, bedrooms, living rooms, and hallways of life. This is where the character of our life is set. This is where we live the life of faith.”
Paul David Tripp
What we do in ordinary time is important. What we pay attention to forms the foundation of our faith.
Look at all the words that Mary uses to describe the God she became acquainted with on ordinary days before the angel came.
And Mary said:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
just as he promised our ancestors.”
Luke 1:46-55
Mary says “my spirit rejoices in God my Savior”, NOT in her circumstances, not in the extraordinary, or the hard, or the good, or the ordinary.
So, what are we paying attention to on all the ordinary days?
Where are you experiencing God’s mercy, His might, His filling, His help on these days in “Ordinary Time”?
More COLORED LIGHTS! MUSIC! PARTIES! ALL OF THE THINGS!
As an Enneagram 7 the “more” of Advent can be seductive, but ironically it is the opposite that God invites us into during this sacred waiting season.
Stillness instead of activity. Silence instead of noise. Wonder instead of worry.
The other day, God connected the dots for me in a way only He can.
My devotional reading was about Zechariah. In Luke 2:20 when he questions the angel in disbelief the angel says,
“and now you will be silent and not able to speak…”
Although this was a punishment, was silence also a gift to Zechariah in a way? What did this silence make possible?
What came to my mind was that perhaps Z experienced more of the sufficiency of God like it says in Psalm 46:10
“Be still and know that I am God.”
This thought was further impressed on me when I went to write a note and the verse on the front of the card reads:
“The Lord will fight for you. You only need to stand still”
Exodus 14:14
As these thoughts were swirling in my mind, we received a call from the choir director at our church who had been working for months on a classic Christmas concert including orchestra, soloists and choir that was scheduled for the next day.
He told us that after a 3 1/2 hour choir rehearsal one choir member had tested positive for Covid. In an abundance of caution, with great sorrow, they were canceling the choir portion of the evening.
This director was so disappointed, but he said, “God will still use this.” And He did. It was amazing.
And in the margin where the choir was to sing, we provided a time of silence. To breathe. To listen. To pay attention to the thin place between heaven and earth.
Maybe you’re reading this and you have kids and a demanding job and you can’t imagine silence. Or maybe you are alone and silence exacerbates loneliness.
Can I suggest one small act of resistance? (If your answer is “no”, stop reading :))
Early in the morning while it’s still dark, or late at night before you go to bed, bundle up, go outside and look up.
Be still.
Feel your smallness and God’s majesty.
Feel your belovedness.
Breathe in: “Jesus”
Breathe out: “You are with me in this place.”
What practices have been helpful to you this Advent? Share in the comments!
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