11 Things that Confirm It's Summer Break

1.  I can't get the kids to STOP playing school.  It's rather humorous...they miss school so much, in the summer that is.

2.  The vast majority of meals are prepared outside on the grill rather than inside on the stove or in the oven.

3.  The quiet moments seem even quieter than usual (I guess the kids' pretend class is taking a really long test???).

4.  The words "I'm bored" are uttered dozens of times a day (not by me, mind you).

5.  Alarm clocks are ignored.  Note that I said clocks...the alarm being ignored is not a summer-only situation.  We do that year round.  But the clock itself being ignored is definitely a summer thing.

6.  I have an incredibly difficult time keeping track of the days of the week.  Maybe I need to enroll in Ms. Brooklyn's Summer School in the next room over...

7. To-do lists take a major twist.  They tend to involve 4-H type things rather than school permission trip and reading minute type things.  Unfortunately, the procrastination situation with said list doesn't always improve.

8.  I eat even more ice than usual...and yes, I do mean eat.  I love to chomp on the stuff.  Don't judge me.

9.  The status of toenail polish is analyzed on a more regular basis.

10.  The song "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" is heard daily.  No, not because there is a deep meaning behind it as there is with me singing "Silent Night" to Camryn every night.  Just because it's a song all four kids can play on the piano.  And when they are looking for something to do, they give it a whirl.

11.  I've posted something on my blog two days in a row.  But don't get your hopes up...except I did mow the lawn today.  And I always get inspired when I'm on that thing!  :)

No Complaints

It has begun.  Summer break.  Of course, summer temperatures have decided to make a temporary exit around here, but it's summer break nonetheless.  And frankly, I'm OK with anything that keeps my energy costs down...like opening the windows and shutting off the A/C.  So you will not hear any complaints from this ole girl.

My summers used to look a lot different than the past two have.  I'm not going to lie, I miss it.  Crazy amounts of missing this time of year.  I find myself still grieving the fact that I'm no longer up to my eyeballs in family retreat preparations this first week of June.  God has His hand in all things that we choose to release our grip on, so I know that He is in control.  Of last summer and this summer and all the summers to come.  He wastes nothing that we offer to Him in complete surrender, and so I know that He will continue to unveil to me just how He plans to make good use of the gifts and callings He has given me, as well as the experiences that have brought me to a new normal.

Normal is such a weird word.  There's really no such thing, is there?  Every time I get used to the "new normal" something else de-thrones it and the adjustments begin all over again.  But there's a freshness in that.  There is freedom in that.  And there is proof of God's aliveness in that.  So yet again, this ole girl utters no complaints.  Perhaps some wincing from the growing pains...some tears from the releasing of things that used to be...some apprehensions with each step of faith that is taken...but no complaints, really.

Last summer God lavishly blessed the kids and I with a dream vacation to a completely magical and out-of-reach place in Florida.  God sent us.  And met us there...whispering sweet nothings into our ears in between rides on Small World and autographs from large animals that for some reason didn't speak to us and making footprints in the sand.  It was a direct answer to my daughter's prayer for a vacation to replace family retreat.  God answered and then some.

This summer, God's lavish blessings continue in a much different way.  Normal will be redefined.  Again.  Statuses will change.  Again.  More chairs will be needed around the table.  More love will be shared within these walls.  God's promises to redeem and restore and "give back the wasted years" to the kids and I have been realized in a very surprising way...and I will transition from single mom to not-so-single.  Fancy dresses will be worn, pictures taken, and special vacations will follow.  It is a direct answer to many people's prayers.  God answered and then some, once again.  He confirmed and reconfirmed in more ways than this ole girl could EVER relay, yet needed.  God has no problem repeating Himself when He has to...just so ya know.  And the people He has had to use to parrot the things He has told me Himself, well, I'm thankful for them!  And I have no complaints that He seemed to think I was dense enough to need so many other voices of Biblical reason to speak into my life. 

(Do you think that I keep referring to myself as "ole girl" because my son is watching the movie Old Yeller in the next room over?  Hmmmmm.)

At any rate, I cannot tell you I haven't struggled with so many of the transitions that have taken place these past two years.  Walking through healing from things I never realized were so detrimental.  Surrendering attitudes I had no idea I needed to weed out of my soul.  Allowing my eyes to leak until dehydration was a real and present danger.  This house, this home...it has realized what it really means to be real.  Genuine.  What God really means when He talks about things like love, grace, mercy, provision, protection, guidance...and the list goes on.  I cannot tell you there haven't been days that I did not think survival was a realistic expectation.  Yet, even in that, I have no complaints.  I wouldn't necessarily say the ends justify the means...but they most definitely outweigh the means.

It's an ebb and flow of His goodness that keeps us all afloat, after all. 

It's the absolute of His truth that keeps us all grounded.

It's the fact that ground is level at the foot of the cross that keeps us all in an attitude like that of Christ Jesus.

And how could I ever complain about that? 

So, for those of you that are curious...there is hope.  Always hope.  Irrepressible hope.  And I'm not saying that as someone who has lived a picture perfect life.  I don't meet the qualifications of "normal."  I'm saying that as someone who has survived despair.  The certain crushing of my spirit was reversed by God Himself.  Because I let Him.  I let Jesus in closer when I wanted to push away.  Because there was a night that I cried out in anger and desperation.  With no job, no help-mate, no predictable course of action.  I let God have it.  I tried to push Him.  He wouldn't let me.  And I have no complaints.

"See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared."  Exodus 23:20

Thank goodness God is still in the business of angel-sending and guarding and bringing along. 

He will do that for you, you know.

I have an idea of what my summer looks like, because I am entering into that "thing" He has prepared.  It's a whole new normal now.  A whole new journey.  And different than yours.  But I do assure you...He is there. 

Regardless of how many times you have been discouraged to be real because it makes people uncomfortable...He wants you to be real. 

Regardless of how many times you have been told that you did the "one sin" that God could never overlook and redeem...He refuses to let others' ignorance define your worth. 

Regardless of how many times you've told God how badly it ticks you off that He had the nerve to think you were strong enough to battle cancer or unemployment or judgmental looks or your child's rebellious heart...He refuses to close His ears to you.

He can handle real and raw and imperfect and even prayers that are loud and painful to listen to. 

He has no complaints.

He just wants you to keep talking to Him.  Keep trusting Him.  Keep allowing Him to define truth in all matters.

I've tried my best to do that.  And I truly have no complaints.

"Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress."  Psalm 107:28

P.S. to my Family Retreat friends...I miss you.  I love you.  I admire you.  Have a wonderful time letting God fill you up to the brim! 

The Moving

I cringe a little when I hear someone (and this has included myself at times) pray for God to move before a church service.  Not a lot.  Just a little.  Because I know what the someone (and myself) usually means.  But taken at face value, it implies that God isn't moving.  And that's not true.  He's moving, people.  He's really moving.

I run (for fun and exercise...not because someone is chasing me, though that's happened before, too).  I've heard people equate this walking-with-and-like-Jesus life as a race.  A marathon.  And it is.  It requires training and discipline and strength and resolve.  A few water breaks.  Some folks to cheer you on.  It's a decision to keep putting one foot in front of the other when there are many other things to do that would more enjoyable.  I see the analogy.  I catch it's significance.  I think about it every time I have to hit the "powersong" option on my Nike+ app.

But when I was thinking this morning, about Christ and the moving that He is doing, it reminded me more of a dance than a race.  Perpetual.  Constant. Connected.  And a given...unless He has specifically been told to get lost, He's on the move everywhere He exists.  Even when He's seemingly still...I envision Him just taking a look around the room to see who's with Him before He continues.

Sometimes we miss the moving.  We're so worried about the song, the attire, the audience, who else might step onto the dance floor...well, we miss the dance altogether.  We miss the whole point of being in the ballroom to begin with.  We don't see the moving.  We certainly don't experience it.  And we lose out.  Big. Not because we necessarily want to, but because we haven't taken the energy to make sure we don't.

Sometimes we bail.  We think we know better.  God is moving too fast or too slow or is inviting people that we don't think He should invite.  We don't get to choose how things go, so we quit.  We walk away.  And again, we lose out.  This time because we make a conscious choice to walk away.

Sometimes we know better than to walk away, so we attempt to switch roles.  We want to lead.  We want to guide.  We want to be in charge.  And as ridiculous as it sounds, we try and show God the dance steps.  Sounds ridiculous, yes?  But we do it.  And it never ends well.

Sometimes we never actual start dancing or step out early because we're afraid. "What ifs" plague our thinking. Fear controls us. It taunts us. It torments us. We're afraid of what others may think.  We're afraid we may have to change our own approach to the dance.  We're afraid that the failures in previous dances will continue to follow us, in our minds and in the minds of those who observe.  But in doing this, we forget that the Lead Dancer is defined as "love." And that perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18  There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love).  Fear and love are opposites. So once we fully embrace that perfect love and all that goes with it, there is no place for fear. Fear will empty us of life. It will steal the dance.

And then other times, we stay.  We move.  We dance.  We stay alert to how the Lead Dancer is dancing...following every little unspoken cue.  We may get our toes stepped on.  We may stumble.  We may even fall down or break a heel or notice that someone else is more graceful or experienced than we are.  But we keep moving without fear.  Without criticism.  Without proud or haughty hearts.  We dance in a posture of surrender to the moving that God is doing.  Trusting Him.  Obeying Him.  And taking delight in all that He is doing.

God moved all through Scripture.  Lessons were learned.  Miracles performed.  And we can take so much away from His Word as we really dig into it.  Yet, let's not forget that He is still moving.  He has more to teach us even though the final words of Revelation were penned long ago.  He has many more miracles He wants to and is performing.  We MUST know and honor and live according to what He has given us in His Word.  But we are really missing out if we don't see that the dance continues.  The moving continues.  It's just not enough to learn the "old" moves .  We must see that He is doing a NEW thing (Isaiah 43:19 See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland).  God's new thing...God's moving...will always line up with Scripture.  But it rarely fits into our box labeled "Neat and Tidy" let alone "Predictable and Comfortable."

This dance...the moving... getting on board is a challenge.  It is a risk.  It is a process.  But I know that God is moving, even when we may not see or understand it.  We've just got to trust that He will guide our steps into the best direction at the perfect tempo.  And He will never let go of our hand as He does so. 

In all the times that I have failed or disappointed Him, He has never returned the favor.  He has ALWAYS proven Himself to be exactly who He says He is:  the Perfect One to direct and define the moving. 

And that fact makes me want to get up and go.

Are you with me?

A Tale of Love and Napkins

This post idea started with a napkin obtained as a result of a very innocent desire to eat some of the best popcorn ever with some of the best people ever.

Upon my return home from a rather rockin' day in Chicago, I looked at the napkin.  I smiled.  The wannabe writer in me started organizing some thoughts.  A draft, if you will.  And then I had a rough day and the last thing I felt like doing was writing something.

But in true "I know what I'm doing" fashion, God used all those popcorn kernels as dots that would eventually be connected to a message that I listened to online this evening, complete with a song that has been running through this lil' Canadian's brain for the past week.

How funny is it that God uses napkins to blast His truth into our ears and our souls and everything in between?  And confirms it at the perfect time with, well, pretty much anything He wants to.

Love is messy.

It is.

If Jesus defines love by His very existence, you simply cannot deny it.

He came to seek and save the lost.  To actually try and find some lost people.  And the lost are messy.

In John chapter 8 Jesus stoops down and writes in the sand to exhibit love and grace and forgiveness.  Picking up a rock and throwing it would have been neater, both culturally and literally.  But He got His Holy hands dirty and refused to let the judgemental people standing in that circle squelch the worth of the woman caught in adultery.

In John chapter 9 Jesus makes mud to heal a blind man.  Again, getting dirty literally and figuratively.  Much controversy surrounded this healed man after his eyesight was reinstated.  People simply refused to believe that he was truly healed.  There had to be a catch...an inconsistency...something they could still point out that wasn't "right."  Because that man being healed made them uncomfortable.  In essence, they thought that all their so called wisdom and righteousness made them better judges than Jesus of what actually happened.  They thought they knew better and their opinions were more important.  Jesus knew this when He once again got dirt under his nails in order to prove a point.  He did it anyway. 

That's what love does.

The kind of love that Jesus represents, anyway.

God went where the sick people were.  He sought out the broken, used and imperfect.  He didn't care if His perfectly manicured nails would break, if the dust would get so caked on His feet that they were unrecognizable.  He didn't care if His reputation was tarnished, if the big kahunas of the day approved or if people misunderstood Him.  He would hang out with sinners.  Get His hands dirty.  And challenge any judgemental or self-righteous person that stood in His way.

Because love is messy.

In my time on this earth, I know I've been guilty of trying to stay clean.  I've worried about my appearance...physical, social, spiritual.  I've not wanted to be guilty by association.  I've run away from awkward.  I've shied away from anything that could cause opinionated people to have a less than stellar opinion of me. 

I'm still not perfect, but God has used some pretty intense scenarios to cure me from that.  And now more than ever, my heart breaks for those that need someone to get messy for them.  Someone to not question the work that God has done in their life.  Someone to cheer them on instead of throw the stone.  Or to celebrate their successes and blessings and healing rather than question every step they have taken and squelch any potential they have.  

When's the last time you got messy?  I mean, really messy (and when I say you, I mean me, too).  When's the last time you threw all caution to the wind and got dirt under your nails?  When's the last time you hung out with nasty people or stood up for even nastier ones?  When is the last time you choose to believe rather than question the miraculous work the God of this Universe did in the life of someone that made you uncomfortable?  In a fashion that made you uncomfortable?

I've had conversations with several people just since I acquired the napkin who are dealing with broken hearts and dismantled belief systems because churches have chosen neat and tidy over messy.  It makes me angry.  It makes me sad.  And it makes me think...about my own heart.  About my own story.  About my own future.  About the fact that Jesus sets a very clear example of what grace is and what it looks like as it's carried out to fruition.

Why does the napkin say what it does?  Because this popcorn is so coated with awesome flavor that your fingers become absolutely wrecked.  The more you love it, the messier you are.

You catch that?  The more you love it, the messier you are.

I hope that when all is said and done and my life on this earth is over, people will be able to say something along those lines in regards to my love for Jesus.  That they will notice that I lived by the phrase "The more you love Him, the messier you are willing to be."  Don't read that wrong...I'm not saying to get messier as in sin more.  No, no, no.  Messier as in risking your appearance, reputation, approval rating and everything else about you in order follow Jesus' example of giving hope and freedom and life to anyone and everyone. 

Maybe I'm preaching to the choir.  Or maybe I am the choir.  Or maybe the choir needs just as many reminders as anyone else.  I don't know.  I just know that us Christians aren't always very good at loving.  At getting messy.  And if you have been hurt by one of us, please forgive us.  Know that you're not alone.  God is ready to take whatever you give Him and turn it into something beautiful.  Miraculous.  Mind-blowing.  He really is.

He loves us.  And if the mess He made when He shed His blood isn't enough to show you just how much He loves us, well, I just hope that's not the case.  Because that was one big mess.  And it's a whole lotta love.

Dance, Princess, Dance

There's a certain little munchkin that I shared a bowl of popcorn with today.  She's not one of mine.  But she is stinking cute.  And she has fabulous parents and grandparents and all kinds of people that adore her. 

After spending some time nibbling on the puffed up white delicacies, she smiled at me with that "yes, I know I just did something I shouldn't have, but I'm cute...so deal with it" smile.  I told her she was a princess.  I've told my own daughters that very thing, so it just kinda slipped out.

"Yes!" she responded.  "Yes!  Princess!"

And then all the loving and affirming and teaching that her parents and grandparents and other people that adore her have done, well, it kicked into high gear.

She jumped off the couch, leaving the popcorn behind.  "Get up, Becky, get up."  I was too slow apparently, because she then ran over to Brooklyn.  "Get up, Cookwyn, get up!"  Brooklyn obeyed.

The little princess grabbed "Cookwyn's" hand.  "Dance!"  And they danced.  And she twirled.  And that smile of hers would have taken any spectators breath away.

She didn't give up on me that easily.  She tried again.  "Becky!  Dance!  Princess!"  It was my turn to obey.  The little princess grabbed my hand and we danced and she twirled of her own accord and we all smiled.

The little princess didn't realize what she was doing.  I'm sure in that toddler psyche of hers, she was simply putting together the two and two that her amazing parents have taught her to be four.  Princesses dance and twirl.  And she is a princess...so when she is reminded of that fact she will act like a princess.  Not only will she dance and twirl, she will strut and smile coyly and act as if she is the most amazing 2 year old the world has ever seen.  That is the value her parents have rightfully communicated to her.  She believes it.  They have done an absolutely awesome job.

God has brought me through so much.  He's comforted me, for hours on end, reminding me that He thinks I'm His princess.  He has sustained me through some of the most gut wrenching pain I've ever experienced.  He's assured me of good things in store, even when I couldnt' see beyond the hour in front of me.  He has been my Everything.  He has healed me from hurts that I never would have guessed I would've had to deal with.  Say what you want about me or my journey or even about my Jesus...but I'm telling you this: you cannot contest what He has done in my life.  He has breathed the very life back into me in a way that is inexplicable.  And so I apologetically will declare both my need for Him and His faithfulness to me.

God has also blessed me in ways that are hard to explain.  And even harder to understand, for some at least.  He has been at work in my life in a more "private" manner than in the way He started healing and restoring me 2 years ago.  Some of you have caught glimpses of that, some of you haven't...but again, when you see what He is doing, it's hard to argue with any of it.  Trust me...I've tried.  He wins every time.  After all, He's God.  And He's kinda good at it.  The ways that I have been moving forward, painstaking step after painstaking step, is unmistakably Him.  And that's really all I can say to explain it.

He's brought me through a major wilderness.  He continues to bring me through some unfortunate remnants of that wilderness.  And He is at work...blessing, providing, loving, giving and forgiving.  He's answered my prayers and realized my dreams in the "above and beyond" way that I thought only existed in made for TV movies.

Yet even so, I must confess...I don't always react the way the little princess did today.  When the King of Kings calls me His princess, or does something to indicate to me that I'm important to Him...I don't always jump up and dance.  I don't twirl.  I don't even smile. 

I question.  In a most un-princess like fashion, I question it all.

I question because of memories I have a hard time shaking. 
I question because once upon a time wholeheartedly believed that I was worthless.
I question because of words that were spoken long ago which still haunt me. 
I question because of words that were spoken not so long ago which taunt me.
Broken promises, manipulative actions, judgemental hearts.

I question because as much as God has done, He wants to do more.  Satan doesn't like it.  And he will continue to use whatever he can get his hands on to paralyze me.  Defeat me.  De-princess me.

I wish I could tell you that I always realize the origin of the questioning within the first 34 seconds of it's onset.  I'm sure it would make me quite the motivational speaker.  I might even get a radio talk show or a book deal.  But I cannot.  Sorry.

I am who I am, and this because of both who I was and who Jesus is.  My journey and His sovereignty has molded me into today's version of Becky.  Yet still, I am flawed.  I become discouraged.  I let hurt take root.  I forget to dance and twirl.  Or I don't think I can.  Or I don't think I should.

Of course, that also means that I don't think Jesus' blood is enough to cover me.  That His divine wisdom falls short.  That His definitions are wrong and the breath He breathes into me is polluted.  Of all the things I have been and will be guilty of...questioning God in that way is not something I want on the list.

So my desire tonight is to follow the popcorn munching munchkin's lead.  To jump up when I hear the mere mention of my place in Christ's kingdom.  To accept His forgiveness, grace and yes, His blessings!  To dance.  Twirl.  Smile.  And to systematically go around the room and tell all the other ladies to get up and dance, too.  To not take no for an answer.  To grab their hand and shout their name and show them the freedom that awaits if they will just let the Savior wrap His arms around them.  To tell them my story and in doing so, assure them that it's safe to dance with Him.  And eventually, they will be able to twirl of their own accord and with a smile on their face.

Dear daughter of the King...please hear me.  No matter what words you have heard.  No matter what you have chosen in the past or what someone else has chosen for you.  No matter what you have experienced.  No matter what person has hurt you, what establishment has misunderstood you, or what place has rejected you.  None of it controls who you are to Jesus.  He adores you.  He understands you.  He welcomes you.  His arms are wide open, ready to embrace you and heal you and then send you on your way to spread His grace and love to those around you in a way that only you can do.

He is beckoning you.

Please hear Him.

Dance, princess, dance.

"They found grace out in the desert, these people who survived the killing.
Israel, out looking for a place to rest, met God out looking for them!"
God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will.
Expect love, love, and more love!
And so now I'll start over with you and build you up again, dear virgin Israel.
You'll resume your singing, grabbing tambourines and joining the dance.You'll go back to your old work of planting vineyards on the Samaritan hillsides,
And sit back and enjoy the fruit— oh, how you'll enjoy those harvests!"

Jeremiah 31:2-5, The Message

Lessons from a Lawn Mower

Some of my most meaningful thoughts/epiphanies/lessons/attention grabbers come while I'm either running or mowing.  Not really sure why.  The rare times that I'm able to get out and run are typically full of me pouring my heart out to God, Him beating me over the head with the obvious...or most likely, a combination of the two.  I love those times.  Not just for the surge of energy that my body experiences, but also for the surge of insight that my soul experiences.  Just me, the road and my Jesus.
Mowing, on the other hand, creates a different kind of dynamic.  More of an object lesson dynamic.  Whether it's the monotony of the process or the observations of who happens to drive by and wave, not understanding that on a zero turn I cannot reciprocate the kind gesture...I cannot even begin to tell you how many blog posts I've written in my head while on the ole zero-turn.  They sound so good with the hum of the motor and an occasional "Mom, can I have a ride??" as a soundtrack.  But alas, they often slip away as I brush the stubborn blades of grass off of my jeans, never to be heard of again.

Except this time.  I remembered.  Probably because I promised my dad I would and he kinda scares me.  Kidding.  (Kind of.)

Now, I've been the primary lawn mower around these parts for quite some time now.  Actually, even in high school I was known to grab the push mower and use it as some kind of weird excuse to try and work on my rather pathetic tan.  So it's not like I'm totally dense when it comes to what works and doesn't work in lawn mowing world.  No, I am not obsessed.  Nor am I a grass whisperer.  Feel free to drive by my house to confirm the truth of those two statements.  Or ask all the dandelions that have taken up residence here.  But I understand the basics...and from what I've been told, something that helps the overall health of the grass is to never mow in the same direction two times in a row.  "Ya gotta change it up a bit" as my dad would say.  I did this in high school.  I did this at my old house.  But for some reason, in the five years that I've been mowing my current couple of acres, I've never done this.

Why?

Because I'm stuck.  It works.  So why change it?

I've got my points of reference determined.  The route is comfortable.  Not always easy, but familiar.  It's just what I do, I guess. 

It's not bad.  It does a good job.  The path has served me well.  And I was fine with it.  It was adequate.

But then my dad points out the other day that I should change it up a bit.  I know he's right before he even gives me an further input.  And because he's my dad, well, I still have to obey him, don't I? 

So I did.  It frustrated the tar out of me.  I knew that it was good for the grass.  I knew it wouldn't kill me.  I knew it was a positive transition, even though my reference points had to change and the familiar was nowhere to be found.  Bottom line: it needed to be done.  It was time to change it up.  It didn't mean I was doing anything wrong before.  But a change would lead to something even better.  Who am I to argue with that?

I look around at some of my close friends/family.  I see some of the things they are needing to change up.  Not because anything was wrong with how they were dealing with a situation or a feeling before, but because there was another step that God wanted to take them through.  Points of reference were changed.  Paths were altered.  Familiar emotions and relationships and assumptions shot out of the water.  Positive transition, but not without growing pains.  I feel for them, I pray for them and I hope for them...because I can relate to them.

I can relate to the assumption that since the "big" transitions or hurdles to healing were in the past that things might stop changing.  That it was safe to settle in.  That what's done is done.  And if something isn't totally messed up, there's no need to change anything.  Those assumptions feel delightful to live in at times...but it doesn't always mean they're appropriate.  That's the difference between living in the "good enough for now" and the "moving on ward and upward."  God has something bigger and better in store...which must be pursued, even if it means facing some additional hurdles.  Even if it means tackling a layer of hurt you didn't realize needed tackling.  Even if it means transition...remembering that even positive transitions are still transitions and take some getting used to.

Did God start working in this area in my life and those around me at this particular time of the year because He knew that mowing the yard is what it would take for me to be able to translate experiences into words?  Or was it a coincidence?  I suppose it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that He wants the best best best best best for us.  The BEST, people.

Reaching forward to grab what God has put in front of us will always involve stretching.  Physical stretching, for me at least, has that good kind of hurt feeling that goes along with it.  I think the same can be said for life journey stretching. 

Reaching up to our Abba Father will always end with a gentle (or sometimes rather forceful) pull to give us momentum followed by a swing to move us in the right direction.  The ride may be slightly terrifying, but oh the exhiliration!

And changing the approach, the angle, the points of reference...well, when God says do it, you better.  When God says it's time to move on to the next step, it's time.  It doesn't lessen the significance with where you've been up to this point...how, where, when or why you've gotten where you are.  It just means that He wants to create some room for the grass to be allowed to become even healthier.  Fuller.  Greener.  Better.

There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears. Philippians 1:6, The Message

He wants to complete the work He has begun.  Say yes to Him, and be assured that nothing else will be allowed to stand in the way of His completion.  Absolutely nothing else.

You can take that one to the bank.  (Or the shed where the lawn mower is stored.  Your choice...)

He Walked

Growing up as a pastor's kid, I have more than enough memories of this particular weekend we are entering into.  There were Good Friday services held in a cemetery.  Easter Sunrise services in the pitch black followed by breakfasts prepared by the youth group involving underdone scrambled eggs.  Ridiculous looking and very LARGE white hats (why oh why were those considered to be so awesome??)  Me insisting on wearing my new open-toed white sandals even though I would have to traipse through snow from the car to the church.  Not that I was at all stubborn as a child.  Nooooo...  Not.  At.  All.

Continuing my journey into teenage-dom and then adulthood, I have quite a number of memories to add to that list, as well as significant realizations about exactly who my Jesus is and what He has done for me.  It's been one of those "humbling privileges" to step into a parental role and do my best to connect the dots for my kids, too.  Yes, we have conversations year round about the intensity of Christ's love for them and their need for Him...but there is still something rather special about the impact Jesus' life has on all of us at this point in the spring.

So what about this year?  What resonates?  What takes my breath away?

There are two words that were firmly planted into my mind in the wee hours of this Good Friday morning:

He walked. 

Jesus put one foot in front of the other and walked.  Simple.  Quite un-profound compared to many of the extravagant and detailed presentations or sermons or articles that may enter your mind between last Sunday and this.  But as 4 AM approached, I still could not shake this two words:  He walked. 

Jesus' walking career didn't begin the day that He carried a cross towards the site of His murder.  It started long before that...when He chose to walk through life in the same way that each and every one of us would eventually do.  As a human.  From the moment His little toddler feet hit the ground for the first time, He walked through everything that we could ever claim to walk through, sinless, of course.  But the same temptations taunted Him as do us.  And we are plagued with identical imperfections as those that He interacted with.  Yet He walked it out.  So He could relate.  So He could speak into our lives with even greater authority, in case we were ever tempted to question His credentials of being the Creator of the Universe.  And so He could set the example of how we should walk.  And how we should walk along others.

He didn't "do life" because it would look good on His resume.  He was actually ridiculed for hanging out with sinners.  He didn't do it because He viewed us messy and imperfect people as projects to be completed in order to attain a prize or pat on the back.  I'm sure there were plenty of people that He actually scared away from following Him because He was brutally honest about what it would cost them.  Honesty was more important than "making the sale."  And He didn't tolerate sinners and messy people because He was looking for a new poster child for His grace that He could put on display.  He actually pursued sinners because He genuinely loved and valued them.  Because they needed Him and He knew it.  And because He knew the power that their genuine transformations would have on every one that crossed their paths.  He still does.

And He walked.  One foot at a time.

He learned firsthand what it feels like to be misunderstood, judged, gossiped about, made fun of, challenged, betrayed, rejected, written off, lied to, hurt and hated.  Jesus wasn't just killed. He was brutally tortured, murdered in the most humiliating and excruciating way possible after hours of mental and emotional and physical brutality. 

In this, it's pretty clear that He can relate to anything that touches our lives.

He risked His own reputation to love the unlovable with great abandon.

In this, He shows us how much He adores us.  How much He values us.  How critical it is that we understand He is the real deal.

He was unapologetic about calling sin out.  And though He disciplined, He didn't punish.  His transforming power was given more than enough room to change not only the original parties life but to trickle down and spread out to as many people as possible.

In this, He sets the example of how we should allow Him to work in our lives, and then how we are to walk along with others.  Regardless of how uncomfortable it makes us.

This past week I met a man and his wife that are pastoring a church in a town several hours from me.  Simply put, these two quite normal people get it.  No, they aren't perfect.  No, they would not want me talking about them.  And no, I don't even know them all that well.  But it's clear that they look at people through the eyes that God does.  They embrace the uncomfortable.  They pursue the messed up.  They believe in the power of the blood that was shed on the cross, and aren't afraid to be pretty clear about that.  And because of this, they are making a difference.  But here's what blew me away:  though they had only just met me, though they had only heard my story for the first time (and the Reader's Digest version at that), though we were surrounded by 11 kids ranging in age from 1-18 years and were (understandably) distracted by the delightful aroma of various types of wings...they pegged it.  Without hesitation, they spoke words that applied in a way that was rather refreshing.  Not because they are perfect.  Not because they have rehearsed boxed responses to give to people that are living in the aftermath of divorce and hurt and messiness.  But because they have walked through some painful things themselves, have allowed God to heal and have taken the calculated risk of walking it out with others the way that I believe Christ would do Himself.  When you choose to base everything you do and say on the example that Christ gives us, it will always apply to every situation you come across. You've just got to make sure you understand the walk Jesus took, and choose to join in.

Jesus knew exactly what He was doing when He walked.  He knew it wouldn't be easy.  He knew where it would ultimately lead Him.  And He also knew that it was the type of walk necessary to thoroughly provide what we needed to live a life aligned with Him here on earth as well as provide a way to spend eternity with Him. 

I've read/heard/written about/sung about/reflected on the significance of Good Friday and Easter Sunday more times than I could recall.  I'm thankful for the time we set aside on the church calendar to do so.  And I'm thankful that Jesus did what He did.  That He walked through life on this earth.  That He walked with that cross on His back thinking about how much He loves Becky.

He walked.

And it has changed my life...more than once.