If There Is A God, Where Is He?

This post is part of conversation. I decided to include an edited version of that exchange to give some context for what will follow.

Anonymous: If there is a God, where is he? I want to believe. But it’s been 2000 years since God even made his alleged appearance. I mean, if he cares, where is he?
Me: I am getting ready to walk out the door, but I need to come back to this. I so hear you! I was asking the same thing not too long ago. 
Anonymous: I am glad to hear that you at one time felt the same way. Because it gives me hope. 

The easiest and probably smartest thing for me to do would be to stick to all the pretty church answers on this one. You know a few historical facts, a couple of clichés, and an encouragement to “just keep believing.” But let’s be honest, those things are often more of frustration than help. And to be even more honest, I really don’t know what else I have to offer other than to say you are not alone.

I had to smile when I read that your last message. The idea that knowing that about me gives any hope is one of the more amusing things I have ever encountered. I guess it is because you are on the outside looking in, and I am on the inside looking out. I actually had to step outside myself for a bit and try to imagine what I must look like to someone else. I know I am busy with the Scandalous stuff, I do posts here, and I talk a lot about God and what I think about him. I suppose that has to look like some pretty massive faith, but don’t let me fool you. Faith is tricky thing to find and to hold onto, and I don’t think the battle to keep our faith is ever really over – or if it is then I haven’t reached that place.

The first time I lost my faith was right after my divorce. I had prayed so hard for God to save my marriage, to help me be a better wife, or to fix my husband. When God didn’t answer any of those prayers, I prayed that one of us would die. I had bought into the lie that divorce was never an option, and I believed that I had stay in my abusive marriage if I was to be a good Christian girl. When that didn’t happen, and I knew that I had to leave, I believed that God had failed.

There were only two reasons, in my mind, why God would fail to fix my marriage:

1. He was not strong enough to do so.
2. He did not care enough to do so.

Now, if God was not strong enough to save my marriage then, obviously, he wasn’t worthy of being called God. And if he didn’t care enough to save my marriage then why should I care about him?

Over the next four years I would fought to rebuild my faith – not that I realized that was what I was doing. I just thought I was screaming my anger at the heavens with some sort of twisted death wish. I was so hurt and angry that I often didn’t have the words to express what I was feeling, so sometimes I just screamed. There was part of me that even hoped that I would make God mad, mad enough to take me out with bolt of lightning as punishment for my blasphemies and curses, because even his anger would have been better than being abandoned.

Now I know that there was a part of me that never stopped believing that God was real, but it was that part of me that made me so mad. If I truly believed that he was did not exist then my anger would have been foolish. It would have been pointless, and probably a good indicator that I really had lost my mind, because really? Who gets that furious with their imaginary friend?

And that was the first step to realizing that I still believed, that my faith wasn’t entirely lost. I knew he was there, my hurt, frustration, and anger with him was my first shred of evidence that he was real. Sure, I couldn’t see or touch him. I couldn’t hear his voice or introduce him to my friends. I just knew that somewhere in my rage there was someone to rage at.

Perhaps the biggest revelation in all of this was that for the first time I was taking God seriously. I mean really seriously. I wasn’t playing pretty church games with him or trying to buy him off with good Christian girl behavior. I was letting him see me – the real me. The me who was broken, bloody, and pissed off. The me I don’t show in public. The me I keep locked up and hidden away from the world lest someone decided that hauling me off in one of those fancy white jackets that tie in back needs to be done for my own good. The me that I only let to play when I am with people I trust. And I have to tell you, that me ain’t pretty or polite. Not many people can handle her.

But God did. He just waited for me to cool off, settle down, for the sting to leave some of the wounds. He didn’t run away or try to rush me through what I now know was a grief over so many failed dreams. He didn’t interrupt my ravings or tell me that I was being irrational. He just waited.
For four long years, he waited knowing that the only interaction I was willing to have with him was to dish out some more abuse in his direction.

Then one day when I was ready, he showed up – no, wait, that is wrong. He showed me how he had always been there. I just wasn’t ready to see him until that moment.

Sometimes the hardest part of faith is being okay with the fact that God is sovereign. It means that he gets to set the terms and limitations of everything, even when and how he is going to reveal himself in our lives. Of course, his timing is never what we would demand and how he chooses to appear in our lives is seldom what we think we want. The thing is that no matter when or how he decides to play out that moment, you will know that it could not have happened one second sooner and his way was so much better than you could have imagined.

I don’t have any formulas for how to make God appear, not even for myself. All I know is that if we keep chasing him, he will be found. It might take a while, and I pray that for you it won’t be four years, but if it is I promise you it is worth it. That is the only hope I have to offer, but if you could see it from the inside out like I do you would know that is one of the greatest hopes we can ever offer another.

A Scandalous Tale - Sex, Social Media, and Ministry

What happens when you put over 600 women in closed Facebook Group and ask them to talk about their most intimate issues? You learn:

1. The Church and Christian communities have been far too silent on issues of sex, women’s health, and relationships.

2. We all struggle in these areas. The specifics may change from woman to woman, but we are all trying to figure out how to balance our faith and our flesh, trying to be good stewards of each.

3. Shame has been the leading contributor to the lack of education, self-destructive behaviors, abuse, and the inability to celebrate this great gift of sex.

4. How laughter heals and eases us through the hard lessons.

5. The power of having others invest in your well-being through a kind word, prayer, and tangible support.

6. The joy of discovering your story can help another on their journey.

7. That when you give people a tool they already know how to use, they will create something amazing with it.

When the Scandalous Ladies Facebook Group took off on May 29, 2016, we had no idea what we were in for. The group exploded from three members to over one hundred and fifty in less than three hours. In eleven days, we broke three hundred and fifty, and we are still growing. The pace has slowed a bit, but growth isn’t measured in numbers alone.

During that time, we have had over a dozen women make connections with counselors, eight couples have gone into marriage counseling, and hundreds (that’s right, HUNDREDS!) of women have reported that the overall quality of their marriages have improved. The tales of new found freedom and joy in being a woman are told daily, and the friendships being formed have transformed lives.
Our network and combined resources have helped one woman get out of an abusive relationship and into a safe home, another family is being helped through a hard financial time, and the women of Scandalous gave sacrificially in a successful effort to remove girls from a life threatening situation overseas. Even the men are voicing their praise, as their wives have opened new dialogues about sex and proposed they explore some new adventures between the sheets – or other places!

And we do not show any signs of slowing down anytime soon! Since May we have started a Scandalous Moms group, and this month we launched a public page where men can join in the conversation. Soon we hope to launch a series of international (yes, that’s right! International!) conferences and retreats.

I am sharing all of this with you for two reasons:

1. Yes, would love your involvement and support! Ladies, consider this your personal invitation to join the Scandalous Ladies Facebook Group, and to take part in the discussions on “A Scandalous Faith”, our public page.  Men, we need to hear your voices so join us on the public page too, and please, don’t be shy. We want your insights and opinions that is why we started “A Scandalous Faith.

2. I want everyone to know what a powerful tool social media can be, and I want my Christian and Church friends to pay attention.

Within the Christian community there has traditionally been a huge push for outreach and ministry within our communities. These are admirable and needed aspect of fulfilling the mandates of our faith, but let’s face it, we tend to over complicate things. We focus on big events, massive (and often top heavy) programs, or other ways that we can address the masses with some sort of impersonal ministry machine. We stop looking at people as individuals and meeting them where they are. Instead, we get lost in the program and the structure, defending the machine instead of stopping to value the person the machine is supposed to serve.

This is why I think Scandalous works. You can’t talk about sex, sexuality, and relationships without addressing the person. Our machine is secondary, it is the tool we use to meet people where they are. It doesn’t need to be protected, it does not eat up all our resources, and it serves only one function – it connects us with the people that we are here to serve. For us that machine is social media. It is free, we all have it, we don’t have to teach our people how to use it, and we didn’t reinvent the wheel. We used the tool at hand, and made it serve our purposes.

We took all the things that church people like to complain about when it comes to the internet and flipped it on its head so we could use it to our advantage. Impersonal? Yes, but reinterpret that into anonymous and nonthreatening. Too much sex? Oh, yeah, but maybe that is just one way people are saying they need to talk about these things. Crude humor? Sure, but maybe that is how people express their discomfort as they try to establish a dialogue. Eats up all your time? You bet, but maybe it is because people are looking for something to invest their time in that really matters. Hate filled speech and drama? Absolutely, but maybe that is because there is no place else they can express their need for passion.

We didn’t invent this formula for how to have vital and thriving Facebook community. We stumbled into it by asking people to do one little thing – tell their stories. That is it. Tell your story, let us know that we are not alone wrestling with these major life issues, help us understand how you cope, how you survive, and show us how we can be important in your life. Maybe that is just a place to vent, maybe it is providing a safe space to ask the questions you can’t ask anywhere else, maybe you need someone to laugh with you, or maybe you need someone who is willing to cry with you too.

People will tell you what they need, but you have to be listening. They are saying need community. They need to know that they matter, that they are more important than the cogs of some ministry machine. They need some place to invest, to know that they have the ability to make a difference, and that their experiences matter. And that is all we have provided. The women and men who have joined us on this journey are the ones who have made it work. The amazing team of men and women who have so selflessly devoted their time and energy to fanning this spark of an idea into flames have done little more than provide a place where others mattered – really mattered, not for the numbers that can be tallied on a spreadsheet, but rather for the strength each brings to the table for the rest of us.

We in the Christian community need to stop lamenting over a lack of resources or our inability to get people through the doors of our buildings. We need to go to where the people are, and right now that is social media. But beware, you can’t treat people like projects or offer help in the same manner that you would pitch peanuts to a monkey at a zoo. You have to be willing to give, not a program, not an event, and not some pretty little prepackaged Christian band aid, you have to give yourself. And you do that by giving them your story – your successes, your failures, your humiliations, and your victories because that is the only way they are going to see not just you but the God we serve, the God redeems all things.

It is time we stop being afraid, that we stop hiding behind all the glam and glitz of programs, and using them as an excuse for not being present in our communities or blaming the internet for keeping people away from the good we are trying to do. It is time we showed up. The online community is a community, a very real and thriving community that has extended an invitation to us, so now it’s time to remember your manners and show up. We did and were welcomed with open arms.

The Price of Obedience

God has graciously given me a pop quiz, reminding me that what I know is of little value if I do not apply it.

I have learned so much over the years about the Bible, God, and how he interacts in this world, but there is this disconnect that happens in my life. I forget that these truths are not just some type of great spiritual abstraction. I forget that if they are to have any value they have to be lived out here and now, in this world, in this place, and before witnesses.

But even more importantly, I forget that these truths can only be witnessed if they are lived.

And who is going to live them if those of us who declare them are not willing to submit their lives to that cause?

We live in a world that has tried hijack our faith and bastardize the promises of our God. We are told that all good things come to those who serve him, those follow the rules, and have enough faith. Blessings and abundance will spring forth, we will never know suffering, pain will never touch us, respect and honor is ours for the taking.

You have heard it. I know you have. God has given you a desire and dream, and he wants nothing more than for you to have the desires he has placed in your heart. You deserve it, you are a child of the king, you will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, and your life will be fountain of joy!

But you do know what? The world doesn’t need to see more happy people being happy. Really. We already know that the people with the great houses, fabulous cars, and dream jobs are happy. Everyone gets this formula, it is sold to us in every TV ad and magazine article out there. Follow your passion, chase your dream, get enough money, have the perfect family, and make the right friends and your life will be nothing short of fulfilling and blissful.

But what about everyone else? What about those of us with the crap jobs, dysfunctional families, living pay check to pay check, and just struggling to keep breathing under the pressures of this world? What about those of us doing everything right and our lives are imploding? What about us? Is there no joy for us? No hope? No blessings spilling from the heavens despite our best efforts? What about our broken hearts that were shattered because we dared to dream, dared to hope, and dared to love? Only to broken against the reality that we live in fallen world filled with others just as broken as we have ever been? Does God not love us? Is this the price of obedience?

Yes! A thousand times, yes!

Pain is the price of obedience. For you cannot love a broken world without being broken. You cannot have dreams shattered if you never dare to dream. You cannot hurt for the pains of another if you do not open your heart to their wounds and, in turn, to be wounded. You cannot find fulfillment if you do not first empty yourself, and you cannot be disappointed if you do not dare to hope.

And all of this will happen if you step out and seek the Father’s heart for your life. You will dream big dreams, you know great hopes, and you will love with a depth that defies human understanding. And the world will seek to destroy you for daring such great things. It will take the ones you love from you, it will shred your most precious dream, and it will shatter your hopes. And God will let it, with no apologies, he will let the world do a tap dance on the graves of all that you buried along the way.

This is the test. Can you still seek him while the fanfare plays? While your enemies rejoice over you demise? When you can’t see him past the jubilant crowds? Can you trust him when you know it wasn’t just a hope or dream that died, but a part of your heart?

It will be long, cold three days and nights. And you will grieve as you have never grieved before. But can you keep coming back? Can you return to that place where that precious part of you died? Search for evidence that all you have endured wasn’t in vain? Or will you give up? Declare that God is just as dead as the dream you mourn? Or will you come with spices and nard, honoring the fact that you were once given something so precious, refusing to be bitter at its loss?

But, Emily, someone is protesting now, God gave me these hopes and dreams! I deserve to have them! He tells me so! I have it written in his Word. 

And yes, you are so right, but where does it say that any of this comes without a cost?

Show me one Abraham who didn’t put a child on the alter, a David who wasn’t chased out of his homeland, an Elijah who didn’t dine on roadkill, a Jeremiah who wasn’t thrown in a pit, a Hosea who wasn’t married to a whore, a Mary who wasn’t accused of being a slut, a Paul who was not stoned and left for dead, or Christ who did not die on a cross. If you can, I will show you someone whose testimony of God’s grace and mercy is meaningless. I will show you someone who never knew what it was to walk in true faith, to rely fully on the provision and protection of God’s love. I will show you someone who will might pay beautiful lip service to my God but never dared to follow him into the wilds. I will show you someone’s who faith was not purified and tempered in the furnace of life.

Above all, I will show you someone who never knew the beauty and glory of resurrection, and this is the good news we are to bring to the world – our God is greater than any death we may ever experience. And what better way to declare this message than to live it? To place our lives in his hands, fully aware of what it will cost, and yet still declaring the truth of his love. A love that is not defeated in lives of chaos and disappointment, but a love the will shine forth in the resurrection and vindication of his children! This is the message of hope the world needs, and it can only be witnessed if we are willing to live it.

Two Legs And A Piece Of An Ear

The coyotes were thick that year. Paw prints around the chicken coop and their howls sounding just beyond the edges of the porch light were constant reminders that they were on the prowl, waiting for their next chance to kill. It was spring. With young pups in their dens, mamas were lean and hungry. Their normal reserve was wearing thin, and they were willing to take risks that ran contrary to their timid nature. We should have known it was only a matter of time before one of the cows would become vulnerable as they began dropping that year’s calves.

But the coyotes weren’t the only mamas lean and hungry. I was in my second year of seminary. Every week I spent nineteen hours on the road, to and from class. I juggled Greek and Hebrew vocabulary and grammar, the needs of my children, the obligations that came with living on the family farm, and the constant strain of simply trying to survive.

The first semester of grad school, I had tried working until my body rebelled. It seemed that I wasn’t super woman after all, and twenty hours of work combined with fifteen hours of class, homeschooling, that massive commute, and various other needs that had to be tended were more than I could take. Not that I would admit that. In my mind, failure just meant that I hadn’t tried hard enough, and I was livid when I was forced to “self-terminate” my job. Officially the paper work states it was due to lack of availability to work. The truth was I was terminated due to my lack of availability to the womanizing manager, thus beginning a downward spiral into student loan debt, but even then money was virtually nonexistent.

I could write a novel on the obstacles I had faced just trying to get by. My love life was a shambles. The church I attended underwent a major shift that led to me leaving, and not on good terms. I was living on cigarettes and coffee. Five hours of unbroken sleep was a luxury, and I was having to work double time to keep up with my classmates whose previous degrees had prepared them for the classes we now took. Even the most common terms tossed about by my profs were foreign to me, and I was looking up almost everything they said so I could understand the lectures – Reform Theology, Liberation Theology, documentary criticism, redaction, pericopes, types and shadows, all of it left me wondering if I really belonged here. My fellow students seemed to know I didn’t belong there and only a few were willing to be more than polite, and few weren’t even willing to do that.

Emotionally, mentally, and even in this place where one would expect to be fed spiritually, I was that the end of my rope. Don’t get me wrong. God provided in ways that defy explanation, but sometimes it is hard to see him at work when your world is crashing down around you.

“As a shepherd recuses from the mouth of the lion two legs or a piece of an ear, so shall the people of Israel who dwell in Samaria be rescued.” Amos 3:12

These words roused me from the open-eyed nap I had perfected for chapel, and I briefly tuned in to hear the rest of the speaker’s sermon. “Why in the world would anyone bother to save two legs and a piece of an ear?” I wondered, and then my sleep deprived mind turned grouchy. “You’d better hurry up,” I mentally told God, “or that’s going to be all that is left of me. And what good is that going to do you?”

That night after the kids were asleep, I sat on the front porch and dined on ramen noodles and steak sauce, and considered dropping out. What type of mother was I being to my children? How could I possibly get through this when I was constantly so lost on my assignments? Maybe I was never meant to fit in with all the people who had really been called to be in seminary, and I needed to come to grips with the fact that my pride had led me into an impossible situation. The coyotes screamed in the darkness, and on impulse I screamed back hoping to scare them away. Instead, they joined me filling the night with their song until it seemed as if everything dark and black hid hundreds of their kind. I laughed, wasn’t this how it always goes? Stand your ground only to learn that the enemy has you out numbered and surrounded?

The next day, one of the cows limped to the barn. That she had calved was obvious, but the baby was nowhere to be seen. I pulled on my boots and began searching the forty acres. In the far back corner, I found what the coyotes had left.

Two legs and a piece of an ear.

People claim that God doesn’t talk to us these days, but he spoke to on that one. I didn’t need words. It was spelled out in blood before me. Was my God any less loving or caring than me? Was he any less compassionate towards me than I was for this animal? And if I trudged through the heavy grass, to find what was hidden from me, would the God who saw everything miss my struggles? Here I was examining the aftermath of a vicious attack, but he swore to be there to reclaim what was his even from the mouth of the lion. Not to simply view the remains after the enemy had left.

In Exodus 22, we are told that if man gives livestock to another for safekeeping, and it is torn to bits that that the caretaker should gather the remains, and hand it over as proof that he was not a thief. As I walked away from the bloody bits of the calf wishing I could have done more and being confronted with the fact that I could not, I realized that while I had done all I could in the natural, I still had a job to do in the spiritual. I was not a thief. I had not neglected the gifts that had been given over to my care. My life may have been shredded by the teeth of an enemy who roams about like a lion seeking who he could devour, but I was still responsible to get those pieces back to the rightful owner. So that day, I gathered up the remains of my life and presented them to God.

I realized that in keeping those bits of my ravaged hopes and dreams, I was condemning myself as a thief. I was hanging onto what did not belong to me, and hiding the evidence of my own innocence in their demise. And I think this is where most of us miss a step. We see the death, and we see the gore, and so we walk away without completing the task set before us.

Some of us need to go back to the far corner of that field in our lives where our dreams died, we need to pick up the scattered pieces, and return them to the One who gave us that dream. They belong to him, not us, and we need to finish what we started. Walking away, leaving the remains on the ground, shouldn’t be an option. For as we march to God’s throne to offer up even these fragments, we are walking in defiance of our enemy, and bearing witness to the world of our God’s goodness and mercy. We are rejecting the lies of the one who devours, proclaiming that he does not have the final word, he does not get to define our reality, and we will not be branded a thief based on his actions. We are affirming that God sees through it all, he knows who bears the blame, and that we can trust him in our brokenness.

So get to walking, look for those pieces. Stop bearing the guilt that belongs to the one who destroys. Don’t entertain the shame for the deeds of the one who kills. Move in faith towards the King who surrounds us with love, and who never saw death – even the death of dreams – as final. Then stand back and watch what he can do with two legs and a piece of an ear.

The Best I've Got - For Now

Last week, I hit a wall. As I scurried from one crises to another, wondering what in the world God was up to, I got smacked with a rather brutal realization. I had forgotten how to pray.

Yeah, you read that right. I forgot how to pray.

I know that must sound weird to you, but think about how I felt. All of these years where prayer was such a huge part of my life, and then suddenly, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Every time I tried the words got in the way, and I felt as if I had been betrayed by my best friend.

Words are a huge part of my life. My days are spent sifting through them, polishing them, and placing them in a precise order to create an image, to illicit an emotion, or provoke another to thought. It is what I do, and it is a natural as breathing for me. They are my tools and my weapons in this world. They help me make sense of what is around me, and they offer a comforting order to the chaos of my life. Yet, here I was unable to string two together without them rebelling against my attempts to align them according to my need.

Oh, I would start to pray and then I would realize that I wasn’t praying at all. Sure the words still flowed through my head, but it wasn’t prayer. Instead, I was thinking about how I was going to use them for a blog post or in the next book. I was writing articles in my mind about how I pray or what I was praying about. I was formulating the next idea I was going to present to the world, trying to find the most brilliant arrangement of words to impress you, my reader. In short, I was talking about God but I wasn’t talking to God.

And there is a huge difference.

So I did something radical. I took some time off. I put away my computer and I didn’t write anything other than replies to messages. I have to tell you it was weird. After years of arranging my days around time to write, I felt a little out of sorts and at a bit of loss at what to do with myself. I am writer, writing is what I do, and so who am I when I am not writing? What defines me if I am not doing the one thing I know I have been called to do? What if this was permanent? What if God decided that I needed to just put it down for good? What if my writing had become too much of an idol in my life, and I had to smash it if I was going to be faithful to him? So many moments of existential angst!

And it wasn’t like I could talk him about it, I had forgotten how to pray. Remember?

That meant the next step was trying to remember. My first attempts were less than eloquent. In fact, they were pretty much just groans and a repetition of the “Father…Father, Father…….Father….. Father, Father, Father.” If I attempted any other words, I would fall back into my pattern of writing in my head. Somewhere along the way something began to happen, the words stopped being important. And my mind began to fill with images of me standing before him, holding out all the broken things and people in my life. I didn’t need words to define the image. It was all there. Me small and powerless to fix things standing before my Father and King with my tangled kite strings, broken dolls, and shattered teapots, making my silent appeal for him to take them from my outstretched hands.

I fell asleep that night feeling as if I had experienced a major breakthrough. I wasn’t trying to contain or define God with my words. I had allowed my mind and heart to be opened to just being in his presence, but then I was reminded – this was God I was dealing with. Things are never that simple, even when they are.

The next day, we began phase two of remembering how to pray and this is where things got icky. It seems just giving God all my broken stuff wasn’t good enough. He wanted more, and more specifically, he wanted me. He wanted me to get real with him, to be honest about how this was affecting me, and what I thought about it. This meant I had to actually feel all the stuff I was trying hide behind a façade of faith and spirituality. Wounds had to be probed, some dead tissue removed, and some pride amputated. It wasn’t pretty, and it hurt like blazes.

And none of this could happen if I was trying to get out of it by just writing about it. It seems that I have become rather proficient at using words that describe the condition of my heart to distance myself from actually experiencing the condition of my heart. I could not judge my progress by a word count or pages written. I was having to confront me, without the one thing that I had begun to think made me, well, me.

The whole process was too much to do sitting still. So I started walking more, and resisting the urge to take a trash bag with me to pick up cans or plugging in a podcast to distract me. I did a lot of fishing, contemplating life, God, and me. It is amazing the amount of thinking you can do while staring at a bobber dancing around on the water.

And then something happened. When I put aside all the things I had been using to hide out, the words started to flow. Angry words, hurtful words, and heart wrenching words. Not the kind of thing you put in a blog post or book, or at least not one where you are trying to encourage people to seek God. I began to tell him about how mad I was that all of this was happening in my life. I started explaining to him how he was falling down on his job, and how I was sick and tired of him not taking care of me and the ones I loved. I told him that I was hurt and mad that he hadn’t stepped up to defend the hearts and minds of those I love, and how he needed to stop them from being stupid, from hurting themselves. I told him my faith was wearing a little thin, and he needed to do something quick because I wasn’t sure that it was going to hold out much longer.

Then there were no more words. Just that sad empty feeling you have after you’ve released all the anger that held the sadness at bay.

I wish I could say this when I saw a burning bush or the clouds parted and a voice called down from heaven telling me that it would all be okay. Heck, I would have settled for a phone call telling me that the ones I love had come to their senses and there was sizable check in the mail box. But the truth is, nothing happened. Nada, zip, zero.

The wind just kept blowing across the water, the birds kept singing, and fish kept snubbing my minnows. No major revelations, no change in the state of the world, just me and God sitting on the lake shore not talking to each other.

I don’t know where we go from here. I can’t shake this idea that God is real and he has a purpose and plan in all of this. Intellectually, I get that, but I am still upset by the things that are happening in my world. It hurts. I hurt. Knowing that he loves me is all fine and dandy, but sometimes you just get the itch to feel like he loves you. To get a break from all this operating in faith and have something a bit more tangible, a bit more comfortable and secure.

For now, I am not operating on my feelings. My feelings are still a big tangled mess of kite string that are keeping me grounded. I am making the choice to believe, to trust, and to love. He knows I am not happy with how he’s handling all this, but right now I don’t have a whole lot of joy and happiness to give him. So I am giving him what I do have the anger, the sadness, the doubt, the confusion, and all those icky emotions that make so many Christians uncomfortable. I am not giving them to him because they are pretty or that is what he deserves. I am giving them to him because they are real and right now it’s the best I’ve got - for now.

Time Travel and Eternity

Time travel, the almost unavoidable constant of all thing sci-fi. Whether is slingshotting around the sun, the worm hole that somehow gets diverted due to the sun’s gravitational pull, an ancient ruin that acts as a gate, or some alien technology that allows us to travel back and forth between the future and the past, the idea of time travel has fascinated us as few other concepts have. For most this is but a flight of fancy, an errant hope of somehow correcting the evils of yesterday, or the hope of knowing what tomorrow holds. It is far flung dream of what we may one day achieve as the human race, the ultimate demonstration that we have cast off the chains of this temporal existence to experience wonders that are inaccessible in our present being.

Few of us ever consider as anything more than this, but what if time travel were possible? What if time did not have the power to define our reality as we currently experience it?

And why is that we are fascinated by something that every reasonable thought rejects? Why would we devote so much time, effort, and money into creating worlds within movies, books, and TV to explore a concept that defies all known logic? It makes no sense unless…

But wait, let me back up for a second. I haven’t lost my mind, and no, I didn’t suddenly come into possession of some whacky telephone both or magic mirror. I know this sounds as if I completely lost my grip on reality, but just roll with me for second. I know that there is a part of you that is going to resist the idea on gut level. I mean, time travel, come on? We all know how impossible that is, but what if we have been looking at it wrong? What if we have been so wrapped up in our experience of reality  - the one in which time in engulfs us, where we at the mercy of ticking clocks that define our days in terms of hours, minutes and seconds? What if our experience has caused us to look at time backwards and inside out?

So gets some ideas in place. Ideas that do not rely on our perceptions of time and space, but are rooted in the revealed truth of God in Scripture.

1. God is eternal. Psalms 102: 26, 27; Romans 1:20, 1 Peter 1:24, 25
2. God knows the beginning from the end. Isaiah 46:10, 48:12; Ecclesiastes 3:11; Revelation 22: 13
3. God’s experience of time differs from ours. 2 Peter 3:8
4. Time was created by God. Psalms 90, Colossians 1:16, 1 Timothy 4:4, Revelation 4:11

Now all of this has led to some very sticky theological questions: Does God exist outside of time? Within time? Is he eternally present? Just how much did Augustine borrow from Plato? I want you to watch this next move very closely, as I dodge all of them. Why? Because, I really don’t care and it’s not part of this discussion of time travel. The point is that time is God’s. He gets to decide how he experiences it and inhabits it. And I am ok with that, and if even if I weren’t it make a rat’s whisker’s bit of difference to him. One of the perks of being sovereign is you get to have your way every day. This is also where I resist explaining how a lot of you need to accept that little fact, and live your lives accordingly.

But moving on –

Let’s go back to that “unless” I left dangling up there.

It makes no sense unless…we were designed for eternity. For many of us eternity has been flattened into a timeline, two points eternally retreating from each other to the distant edges of our imaginations, but eternity is more than a line. It expands in all directions, more of an endless web rather than a line, encompassing all things past, present, and possible. And we crave it in depth of our being, to the point that we fantasize about being able to transcend the bounds of this time and move freely within the totality of its space. Our collective obsession demonstrates that truth Ecclesiastes 3:11 which tells us that God has placed eternity in the hearts of man.

And if this is a fundamental craving of humanity, how then do we fulfill that hunger that God has given us? I think the answer is simple – to draw near to the one who is eternal.

A plan as simple as the words of Psalm 145 which tells us that God draws near all who call on him. Or James 4:8 that tells us that if we draw near to God he will draw near to us. And Psalm 65:4 that declares that blessed is the one that God brings near to dwell in his courts, and how do we come into his courts? With praise! Psalm 100. I could go on, but I think you should be getting the idea. Praise is a key to being in the presence of the Eternal God.

Something happens when we start to praise, when we proclaim who he is, and let that reality flood our soul. Time and all that it contains is no longer what defines us or the realm we inhabit. We confronted by the God who is both Ancient of Days and the Lord of What Shall Be. We recognize that time does not hold our God captive, nor is his reality engulfed in time's dictates. Time, that cruel dictator of our lives, bows before our God and proceeds at his bidding and good pleasure. The ticking clock, the changing season, and passing moments become nothing more than tools that he picks up and lays aside as it suits him. That alone should stir our hearts to praise!

And when we praise him, we join our voices with those who have sang his praise since the dawn of time, and our songs will echo in the ears of those who follow. For his praises endure forever, as we are told in Psalms 111:10, and by choosing to praise him we are stepping into the realm of the eternal to experience something far greater than the here and now. To live beyond this tangible moment, to proclaim the events of history as a demonstration of his power for this age, and to proclaim his eternal reign not as some distant future event, but the defining element of our lives today. To lay hold of it all - past, present, and future - as our defining reality and reason to life our voice to him.

So perhaps we are not time travelers, not in the sense that we move through time, but rather that in those moments of praise time moves through us. The past, present, and future aligning in one splendid truth, our God is the God of all time and his steadfast endures forever. Love given since before the thought of creation and will endure past the edges of time, love that we chose to embrace today, so that we might know the God of Eternity in this moment.

Reader’s Question: Why do you believe in a spiritual realm?

Reader’s Question: Why do you believe in a spiritual realm? Hasn’t science proven that all the stuff that they thought were demons and spirits are really diseases or mental disorders? Aren’t you just being superstitious?

This is one of those questions where I have to ask myself, where do I begin? The second question I ask myself, is there anything I can say that would truly convince anyone that my answer is right and true? The honest answer is probably not. And third question I ask myself, how crazy do you want to look when you reply – particularly since you know that your answer probably doesn’t matter?

Well, I have never done anything half way in my entire life (with the exception of keeping house). So I may as well keep up the tradition.

If I wanted to play it safe, I would give you a list of Bible verses that confirm the existence of a spiritual realm, but as the person who asked this does not view the Bible as an authoritative source that is rather pointless. And to be entirely honest, it was not the Bible that convinced me to believe in a spiritual realm. It was only after a number of experiences that I realized that this was a reality that I could not escape, and I learned how to cope with my experiences through the teachings of the Bible.

So instead of offering up that list, allow me to answer with a story.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine decided to help a homeless man. She invited him into her house, fed him, gave him a few useful things, and then at his request brought him to the park where my husband and I are hosts. Camping is free here, and she knew that we would offer any help that we could.

After his first night here, he came up to our camper, knocked on our door, and asked if I would give him a cup of coffee. If you know me, then you already know that coffee is never in short supply. So I invited him, poured him a cup, and listened to his story. Which if you know me, you will also know that one of my favorite things in this world is learning other people’s stories.

He told me about his divorce, how he had lost everything, and how afterwards he just started walking. He caught a Grey Hound in Virginia, rode into Texarkana, and from there started his journey on foot once more. He explained how he was looking for some place quiet, and how he needed to clear his head of all the noises.

So I asked him, “What type of noises are rumbling about in your head?”

He studied his cup for a long time before answering. “I hear voices, all the time voices, telling me what to do. I get a government check for being schizophrenic. Does that scare you?”

I reassured him that it didn’t, and explained that I was bipolar so he was in good company. He laughed a little, but started studying his cup once more, in a way that told me that he wanted to say more but was unsure of how to begin. I waited in silence, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts and gather his courage.

“Your friend said you know a lot about the Bible and stuff,” he finally said. “Do you know about Ra and Nun?”

If I was interested in the man before, he had my full attention now. Just the day before, I had been studying these ancient Egyptian gods. I told him I knew a little, and then asked him what he wanted to know, and why he was asking.

“I hear them,” he told me. “I don’t know who they are or why they are talking to me, but they I know their names because they argue in my head, telling me to do bad things, like kill animals and such. They sent me here. Are they in the Bible? They sound like they could be in the Bible.”

I explained to him that they were not in the Bible, at least not directly mentioned in the Bible. I told him how they were worshipped in ancient Egypt, and how they were gods – one a sun god and one the god of chaos. I told him that believed they were connected to the Nephilim and Sons of God mentioned in Genesis 6, and I how they masqueraded as gods in an effort to fool the people into worshipping them instead of the true God.

As I was speaking, he began to get agitated. His entire manner changed, and he cut me off. He began telling me how he wanted to kill something, a bird, a squirrel, or anything he could overpower.

Abruptly, his mannerism changed again, and he began asking me if I believed that there were spirits who could give us higher knowledge and power.

I told him that there is only one true source of power and knowledge, the God of the Bible, God incarnate in the person of Jesus, and how it was through his blood that we can come to know God’s love and mercy for us. He slammed the coffee cup down on the table and walked out the door. I followed him, and by the time we were outside, he had calmed down again.

“I wish I had more time to study the Bible,” he said not looking at me. “Do you have one I can have?”

I assured him that I would get him one and bring it to him later. He returned to his campsite, and I called Ty and asked him to pick up a Bible on his way home. Later that day, I took the Bible and some food to the spot by the lake where he was set up. He accepted it all less than enthusiastically and began to talk about killing again. As I listened, I studied his campsite and saw that he had cooked various plants over the fires in empty cans, he had more plants drying on the table, and I asked him what that was about. He said he was doing some experiments that voices had told him to do. I didn’t press any further.

As I was leaving, he asked me if I would give him my dog. I smiled and told him, “Hell, no.” He shrugged and pushed the Bible to the far side of the table away from him.

The next day he left. He told me it was too quiet that he couldn’t stay here because the voices got too loud here. He needed to go someplace he felt more comfortable and familiar with, and he walked out of the park.

On the surface, this seems like a random encounter with a mentally ill man, and I am in no way discounting that he had a very real medical condition. Nor am I belittling him for it. After all, I have one too. However, there are two things that make me believe this was a spiritually motivated encounter.

First of all, this is just one of many events that has happened since I started writing my latest book. The list of coincidences could easily be the basis for another book entirely, but I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe that everything has a reason and a purpose. The fact that just the day before I had been researching the very gods he named, supposedly gods that he knew nothing about, confirms to me that this encounter was not accidental. Additionally, many of these encounters seemed to have been engineered to engender one response within me – fear.

Secondly, this was not the first stranger to knock on my door since I began writing this book. The first man approached asking me if my bus was for sale. When I told him no, he walked off muttering some sort of sing-song chant. I watched him as he snuck through the woods to get a better look at the bus, and called the sheriff. When the deputy sheriff picked him, he told me that the man kept muttering that he had to “stop the gypsy.” In case you didn’t know, everyone calls my bus the Gypsy Bus.

Ty and I have been here for over a year and both of these occurrences happened within weeks of each other. Never before have any of the campers here so much as given me a creepy vibe. Most of the folks are good people just looking for some time on the lake to fish, and they have been encouraging supportive of the work we are doing here. Yet, within a matter of weeks, we have two men here whose presence was disconcerting and concerning. And why did they appear at these times? It was when I started the book that led me to research Ra, Nun, and a whole host of other ancient gods and their myths.

I no way expect anyone to believe in a spiritual realm because I had these experiences. With enough effort, anyone could reason them away into nothing more than random events. I realize that and accept it, but I cannot dismiss the sheer number of things that have occurred in my world since the inception of this book. These are but a part of a larger story that stands as but a chapter in my own life. To me it is a manifestation of the activities of the spiritual realm, but you alone can determine what it means to you.

Financial Sense and Bad Attitudes - A Confession

Years ago, back when I was single mom, I realized that my financial situation was always going to be one of constant jeopardy. I was raising my kids on less than $10,000 a year, the ex had (and has) forgotten that child support would be nice gesture, and let’s face it, none of my degrees lend themselves to lucrative careers. In fact, I read in one article that if you didn’t want make any money with your college degree, get degrees in the arts, psychology, and religious studies – guess what I have degrees in? The correct answer is all three! I’ve always been an overachiever like that.

Despite all this, I was pretty okay with where I was. Sure the numbers didn’t makes sense, and the fact that we never starved or lived on the streets was due in large part to my family who helped with things like childcare while I worked or went to school, an expense that devastates almost every single mom’s budget. Food was pretty much whatever the tribe was giving out in commodities, what we grew in the family garden, and ramen noodles, but overall, we were happy.

I figured out how to not dwell on our money matters, live within our budget, and to do without things we did not absolutely need. So there weren’t a lot of extras like cable TV, gaming systems, manicures, or trips to the zoo. We just made the best of what we had. It wasn’t always easy and a minor catastrophe like needing new tires or a hot water heater could set us back for months, but somehow things always worked out.

Then I got married. Now, this was a good thing, and I was delighted to have married a hard-working man who was willing to take on the financial risks and responsibilities of me and my two kids. After years of debating on whether or not new socks were really necessary or could be afforded at that particular time, it was liberating to just go to the store and buy socks whenever dang well pleased.

But something happened to me in the past five years, something I didn’t realize until recently.

Somewhere in the midst of being able to buy socks and not having to wonder if fresh oranges were an extravagance, I forgot that my security did not lie in the size of my husband’s pay check.

Now God has a way of getting your attention, and well, he’s been working overtime on me since the first of the year. Ty and I were slammed with several things that sapped our money. Some avoidable with better planning and self-discipline, and some so completely out of our control that I had to wonder if God had sadistic streak. This meant that several of our plans for things we were going to do this year had to be ditched, and I am not talking trips to Tahiti, I am talking about things most people take for granted as part of being a functioning adult in our society. (Which really shows you how much I lost sight of the goal – since when did I ever want to be a function adult?)

To make matters even more poignant, there was about a six week spell in there when I was contacted almost every day by someone celebrating a blessing in their lives. And not just any old run of the mill blessing. No, they were happy because they had received – often unexpectedly or by almost supernatural providence – things that I had specifically expressed a desire for. Seriously, if I said I wanted purple wigwaddle but had recognized it as an unnecessary expense or completely outside my budget for the foreseeable future, one of my friends would suddenly come into possession of a purple wigwaddle. And as part of being a real friend is to rejoice with those who are rejoicing, I did my best to do my part. But let me tell you, after about six weeks of this, I was starting to lose my cool. Not with my friends, they typically had no idea that they were rubbing salt wounds and would have avoided doing so if they had a clue. No, I was losing my cool with God.

After all, HE knew I wanted a wigwaddle and he could have zapped one into my front yard at any given time if he had so desired. But nooooo, he gave it to someone who has absolutely no idea how to properly appreciate a wigwaddle, let alone the proper care and grooming of one.  And as if that wasn’t enough, he was requiring that I be a good sport about it if I were to properly live out my faith. I am not going to lie this is where I demonstrated some pretty awesome acting skills, but inside I was starting to seethe.

Then along comes my child who decides to spend an evening around the fire talking about the days when we had nothing, but when our house was open to everyone, when people showed up unannounced to sit and talk. When our lives were too full to worry about money, and the amazing experiences they allowed us to know as they shared their stories, asked their questions, and wrestled through the hard issues of life on a worn out couch or by an open fire. When people we had just met showed up with bags of groceries to prepare a feast in our home as way to repay for us for the kindness of opening our home to them.

In those days, money was an issue but it was rarely a worry. I knew in my gut that we were going to be alright and nothing could touch us that didn’t pass through the Father’s hand. Times were tough, and God always likes to wait for the last minute before providing an answer, but I had figured out how to rest, to be expectant, and how to deny dread a place in my heart. Perhaps it was because I was more spiritual back then, or maybe it was the only way to survive the uncertainty without going crazy. I don’t know, but I do know that I wasn’t upset about my friends getting the things I wanted. I was genuinely happy for them and their success. Sure sometimes, I had to press through to get there, but I did it with an ease and grace I seemed to have forgotten lately.

And frankly, I don’t like that. I don’t like being a petty person who is so wrapped up in my own angst that I forgot how to rejoice with my friends. So this week I started over. That’s the beautiful thing about this faith we call Christianity, we get to do that. I talked things over with God, let him know how I was feeling, and told him I was going to need some help because some rebellious part of me likes the self-righteous anger I had been entertaining. I told him that despite that I know that is not the truest part of who I am or who I want to be, and that I was sorry for putting my wants ahead of him and what he was trying to do in my life.

I am not going to tell you that since I got my attitude right God is going to send me a $200,000 check in the mail. I mean he might, but if that was the only reason I confronted this ugly bit of me then I sorta missed the point. In fact, that type of expectation would just show that I was still hoping money was going to solve all my problems, not God. See, he’s far more creative in his solutions than any methodologies I would prescribe, and I need to be okay with that. It is part of walking in faith, and even more importantly, it is part of letting God be God without imposing my rules upon him. Because if I were real honest, I have to admit that when I let him do his thing and get out of his way, his methods blow my mind and leave me in awe. I simply do not have the depth of imagination or scope of knowledge to dream up the wondrous things he brings into being, and those are the things I truly want to experience in my life.

So until he does whatever it is he is going to do, I am going to do three things: I am going to faithful with what he has given me. I am going to see every blessing my friends experience as proof that God is still able and willing to bring good things into the lives of those who love him. And I am going to keep my heart and eyes open in expectation for the mind blowing and awe inspiring things I certain he has in store for me, my family, and my friends.

Stirring the Pot - A response to the objections on yesterday's post

Well, it seems that yesterday’s post caused as bit of a stir. Not that you would know it by the comments, for it seems that most of those who objected to what I had to say preferred to do so in phone calls and private messages. And since all the objections were pretty much in the same vein, I decided against individual responses and to address them here.

The objection went like this:

Corrective prophetic words have no place in the New Testament Church. They are restricted to the Old Testament.

The funny thing is that no one, not a single person offered up any Scriptural support for this idea. I was told that they had received a different message from leadership, books, and other believers – but did I mention that no one offered me a single passage? In case you didn’t guess, that’s kind of a big deal to me.

So not being above reproach or correction, I decided to do a little research. I mean I would really love for this to be right. Do you know how much weight it would take off my shoulders? How much responsibility I would be absolved of? There is nothing but good things in it for me if this is true. All I needed was one passage confirming what has become a popular notion in today’s church.

Here is what I found:

1 Corinthian 12, 13, and 14

I read through the passages carefully, trying to find where and how the use of corrective words in the New Testament church was forbidden. I read them again. And again. I even stop typing, right here > < to read them yet again, because if you know me, you will know that I hate being wrong. This doesn’t mean that I am never wrong. It just means I will avoid it at all costs.

The only verse that I can see that might be interpreted as a prohibition against corrective words is 1 Corinthians 14: 3 –

One the other hand the one who prophesies speaks to the people for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation. 

Alright, let’s look at the words here, but let’s do it backwards.

Consolation is defined as comfort received by a person after a loss or disappointment by the writers of the Oxford Dictionary and Merriam Webster says pretty much the same thing, something that makes a person feel less sadness, disappointment, etc. Encouragement is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as the action of giving someone support, confidence, or hope. Merriam Webster gets a little more generous in its definition - the act of making something more appealing or more likely to happen; something that makes someone more determined, hopeful, or confident; and something that makes someone more likely to do something.

So far this all falls in line with what I have been told by concerned reader, but here is where things get interesting. Upbuilding is usually translated as edification or strengthening. Merriam Webster defines edification as teaching someone in way that builds strength or character. Oxford defines it as the instruction or improvement of a person morally or intellectually. This is where we put on our thinking caps and consider the fact that teaching and instruction are corrective by nature. The fact that Paul chose to include this word in addition to the words we see as kind and gentle, tells us that he intended for us to have a balanced view of prophecy that functions within the tension of discipline and grace.

Now, I know that no sound theological argument hinges on a single verse or word, and it was pointed out to me that all of my examples from yesterday’s post were from the Old Testament. So allow me to present two examples of corrective, even harsh prophetic words from the New Testament:

Repent, therefore, of this wickedness of yours, and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you. For I see that you are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity.  And Simon answered, “Pray for me to the Lord, that nothing of what you have said may come upon me.” (Acts 8:22-24 ESV)

But Peter said, “Ananias, why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit and to keep back for yourself part of the proceeds of the land? While it remained unsold, did it not remain your own? And after it was sold, was it not at your disposal? Why is it that you have contrived this deed in your heart? You have not lied to man but to God.” (Acts 5:3-4 ESV) Emphasis added.

In each of these cases, Paul and Peter speak what the Holy Spirit has revealed to them in the hearts and minds of these men. Each instance is a demonstration of a prophetic word given that was not kind or gentle but corrective and, dare I say, a pronouncement of judgment.

We should also not overlook the fact that by relegating corrective words of prophecy to the Old Testament we are invalidating the writing of the New Testament. Revelation is blatantly a prophetic word and full of correction. Paul’s letter also full of correction, warning, and frequently describing consequences of persistent sin in the life of a believer – consequences that should be enacted within the church and consequences that will be enacted by God.

Furthermore, the distinction between Old and New Testament is flawed because it is not merely a distinction between one set of texts and another, it is distinction that we have tried to impose upon God. Declaring God to be changing and capricious in his dealing with humanity as the God of the Old Testament is all judgment and wrath, while Jesus is love and kindness, and when taken to an extreme this leads us to deny Jesus declaration that he and the Father are one. The New Testament is not a new covenant, but rather a continuation and manifestation of the original covenant given to Abraham, renewed at Sinai, confirmed in Acts, and celebrated by Peter that Abraham’s children would become a blessing to the world and priests to all nations. (Genesis 12:1-3, Exodus 19:5-6, Acts 1:8, 1 Peter 2:9).

Correction is part of being in this family faith – giving it and receiving it. There is just no way around it. I wish there were. I would love to be able to tell everyone who felt so obligated to correct me, either for yesterday’s post or for other legitimate reasons, to go jump the lake. I wish I could avoid the responsibility for acting when called, but no serious study of the prophets, be it Old Testament or New, allows us the luxury of believing that this is a matter of choice or personal desire. It is not a position of power but one of humility and perfect awareness of one’s own weakness. Moses declares, Jeremiah laments, Jonah ran from it, and Paul wrote of it – each one decrying the necessity of confrontation even as they walked towards it. They knew that leaving sin unaddressed and unchecked would only cripple the individual believer and ultimately the body as a whole.

Deep Theological Ponderings Or How to Avoid Embarrassing Situations at the Coffeehouse

Recently, I wrote about the the cost of dreaming big. The response to that post was overwhelming. Friends from literally all over the world checked in on me, others wrote to tell me what a relief it was to discover that they are not alone, and a few just sat down in the ashes a lamented life with me. In the midst of all the love and support, one question kept emerging – how do you trust God when it seems like everything in this world is out to get you?

Now this is the type of question that inspires two distinct reactions:

1: Maniacal laughter that will not only get you strange looks, but asked to leave the coffee shop by some fearful eyed teenager clutching a cell phone which I am pretty sure had 911 already cued up. (If you encounter this situation, do not, I repeat, DO NOT giggle and say, “It’s alright. I just forgot to take my meds.” Just leave and save everyone some awkward moments.)

2. Deep theological ponderings.

Either reaction can occur independently, in succession, or concurrently depending on a number of factors not excluding barometric pressure and the strength of the US dollar.

And since I cannot take all of you to the coffee shop for a demonstration of the first reaction, I shall resign myself to sharing some of those deep theological ponderings. You can decide what they are worth.

Like most questions, I believe the answer is in the question, and it is quite simple. The world is out to get you.

But did you catch that? The WORLD is out to get you. Don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating paranoia or launching a counter attack. I am just stating fact as I see it, but first we have to define what do we mean by the word “world”? Obviously, I am not referring to the planet earth, and I am not talking about millions of people in China actively plotting your demise. Heck, I am not even talking about that idiot who cut you off in traffic this morning. Don’t kid yourself, he wasn’t thinking about you and he couldn’t have cared less about who you are. His concern was his life and his life alone, you just happened to be in his way.

So what do I mean by the world?

Not to get too deep, but I mean the powers that rule this world. You don’t have to go very far into the Bible to figure out that when Adam and Eve decided to have a little snack, they also relinquished dominion over this realm to the one who served up that tasty little morsel. (John 12:31, John 14:30, 2 Corinthians 4:4, Ephesians 2:2, and 1 John 5:19). And if you haven’t been paying attention to the news, it might come as a bit of a shock that people do not like outsiders living in their land. In fact, folks can get down hostile towards immigrants and foreigners particularly if they have any level of success in a region where natural born citizens are struggling to survive. So guess where that puts our popularity levels as Christians?

But there is another factor at play here, and one we tend to forget until it smacks us in the face – spiritual forces are manifest through physical beings.

Oh, sure, we get this concept when it is the guy on TV ripping into our faith, we understand it when we are attacked by a stranger on social media, and we are not surprised when our crazy uncle starts going on about religion being the opiate of the masses at Sunday dinner. We expect it, these people don’t share our faith, and it’s a pretty hard thing to wrap your brain around unless you have experienced the awe of it. So you let it go, or maybe you make a comment, but in the end you just accept it as a part of the world we live in and go on because it’s not personal.

But then there are times when things do get personal, when the people you love and depend go stupid and you begin to question the legitimacy of their faith. Evil is no longer an impersonal force, and you know this because you are living with it! The rebellious teen, the thoughtless spouse, the overbearing parent, or the unreliable roommate – any one of them at any time can become a pawn of Satan hell-bent on ruining your life. To make it worse, these were the same people you considered to be conduits of God’s love to you, and somehow our twisted little human brains begin to interpret this as God must have forgotten his obligation to demonstrating his love for you by smiting these sinners.

Now this is the part of being a Christian that can really suck. (Yeah, I said it.) The reason being is that requires somethings called self-discipline, self-awareness, and that other thing that always trips me up, self-control. No one likes to do these things, no one is born naturally good at these things, and no one ever gave another human being an award for practicing these things – matter how hard you had to work it. Even worse? The better you get at doing these things the less people realize how much effort you put into them.

As if that wasn’t enough, there is  only one way you really get to practice the skills need to become proficient at being self-disciplined, self-aware, and self-controlled, and it is having people do everything  in their power to knock you over – mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and yeah, sometimes even physically. It’s called training. It’s learning how to differentiate between the person you love and the behavior that hurt you. Its learning how distinguish between a violation of your preference and principle. It’s realizing that you aren’t the center of the world and the people are often dealing with their own demons, demons that don’t mind taking you out too.

So you have choice, to stop loving, to stop being open, to stop caring enough about others to give the power to hurt you, or to believe that God is bigger than anyone or anything that comes against you. You get to choose to walk in grace and mercy trusting that God can and will bring you through, or to hide your heart and all that you have been given behind the defenses that keep you safe. The thing is if you chose to hide, you are never going to be able to share the love that has been so freely given to you and you will never be able to help anyone walk in freedom while keeping your own heart imprisoned by your fear.

Running From Demons, or The Fine of Art of Hurting Yourself

I have spent a large portion of my life running, mostly from and occasionally to this thing I could not or did not want to define. I have always been afraid that if I truly embraced all that I know to be true I would only alienate those around me, after all when you spend your childhood knowing things that you should not know, being chastised for having an over active imagination, and doing your best just to fit in, you learn that there are parts of who you are that frighten the adults – you know, the rational folks who rule your world. Things didn’t get better when I supposedly joined the ranks of adults even though I was doing my best to follow the rules of proper behavior and belief.

I got married my final year of junior college, mostly because if you are good Christian girl in Oklahoma that’s what you do. He looked good on paper, ticked off all the little boxes on my checklist of things I wanted in husband that youth directors encourage us to make so that we can be objective in our decisions on who we are to marry. What I wasn’t prepared for was the battlefield being married to him would become, and I am not talking about our epic fights that often left me with bruises or the screaming matches that ended with threats to end one or both our lives, I am talking about the sheer presence of evil in our home.

For most people, evil is an abstract concept. It is something that you define and then you simply do not do that particular thing. It is something that exists but only as a principle or violation of principle, but for me it was real. And this is where I will lose a large part of you who will be convinced that I have lost my ever-lovin mind. When I say evil is real, I am talking about every stupid ploy used on horror movies multiplied by nine and then subdued by the lack of a soundtrack. Pots and pans flying about in your kitchen? Yup. Windows opening and closing on their own? Yup. Footsteps up and down the hallway? Been there done that. How about the radio, TV, and other electronics turning on and off, flipping stations, and emitting garbled noises when they aren’t even plugged in? Seen it. Fireplaces billowing with smoke when they haven’t held a fire in decades? Sure, it happened. The darks shadowy voids would prance about the edges of the room, like a person who moves just out of the corner of your eye, daring you to look at them. That was an everyday event.

My favorite? When they wake you up from a dead sleep to tell you something. My least favorite? When they contort the face of someone you love until they are no longer recognizable, and the spit curses at you in a voice that you have never heard before.

Even in the midst of all this, I was told I was the one losing my mind. I was told that my particular denomination did not have to deal with demons because we didn’t pay them any attention. You know that sounds all well and good, but I have to tell you, it is awful hard not to pay attention to them when they keep jerking the covers off your bed.

Over the years, I have developed a few theories. How right or wrong they are I am still willing to question, but overall they have held up. The first is that any demon that is desperate enough to use direct manifestation as its way to control a person isn’t much of a demon. In fact, I look at them in much the same way I look at mice. Now, ask yourself, how many people have you known who have been hurt by a killer attack mouse? Yeah, me neither. On the other hand, I have met a ton of people who have hurt themselves trying to get away from those fearsome beasts, and that is how most folks seem to get themselves hurt by demons – running away from them.

This is not to say that you don’t do anything. That is stupid. After all, if there is a mouse in your house you set traps, buy poison, call an exterminator because we all know that with mice there is filth and disease, and they will ruin everything they can by chewing it up or defecating on it. It is the same thing with demons, you get them out of your house before they destroy it.

Now most of us have been taught how to pray and how to stand on our authority as believers. We have the right to demand that they leave by the authority given to us in the name of Jesus. The Bible declares this, and quite frankly, most of us haven’t been using it. And I hear from so many who did that things just got worse, so they end up just hoping they will go away – hahahahahaha!!!

Not a chance. These things hide in walls, under furniture, and in your underwear drawer. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they are not there. You have to take a step further.

All of nature abhors a vacuum, and before we started defining nature as this physical realm, nature was strictly spiritual. So it abides by many of same principles. I would go so far as to say that most of things you see in nature are reflection of how the spiritual realm works. This means that you have to fill the void left by their departure or they will just grab seven of their buddies and come back. This is where most people get stumped because they have never learned how to fill that void.

The good news is like all things of our faith, enacting the solution is easy – so easy that you might miss it. You fill that void with God. And where is God enthroned? On the praise of his people. You have to invite him, create a throne in your home, in your heart, and in your life. Too many of us are claiming to be his subjects but have never bothered to create a place in our lives from which he can rule. It is not enough to do lip service and never put this knowledge in action because when we fail to do so we are leaving a giant void in our lives just crying out to be filled and since demons, unlike God, don’t wait for invitation, guess who is going to rush right in?

This is by no means a comprehensive battle plan. It is just a taste of some of things I am learning not to run away from in my life, and I doing a lesson review for myself as much as for you. To learn more, I strongly recommend Victory Over the Darkness by Neil Anderson and I also recommend that you surround yourself with people who seeking God more than they are worried about what is slipping around in the darkness. Because there is an inherent risk when we focus on these thing too long and too closely, we can become mesmerized by their power and the mystery of it all. We can be overwhelmed by the sheer force of evil that we now realizes surrounds us and become fearful and defeated. But God wants us to know that he is bigger, greater, more powerful, and more awe inspiring than any of the petty displays the demonic enacts on this earth. He wants our hearts to comforted and emboldened to not only seek him but to demonstrate the world the glory of his love in our lives, and we cannot do that if we have been seduced or terrified by beings who have already been defeated at the cross.

So we learn to walk with knowledge and discernment. We seek our Lord so that we may know truth. We strive for balance, somewhere between ignorance and obsession, so that we are properly equipped to face our enemy while never being distracted from our King.

Let There Be Light

Picture from  Phys.org
The first ever photograph of light as both a particle and wave

As an artist, light has always been a fascinating subject. Light is the cornerstone of visual arts. Whether working in pen and ink or oils, I am trying to capture the interaction of light upon an object. In other words, I am not painting an object. I am actually painting the play of light upon the object by capturing highlights and shadows with my pen or brush. 

We all know that without light sight as we know it is impossible, but rarely do we think about how much we rely on light for our very existence. As one simplified example put it: Plants convert light into stored energy. When we eat plants we are in fact eating light. When we eat meat, we are eating the light they have metabolized through the eating of the plants that stored light. Without light all life would cease to exist, including our own. It is in the creation of light that the earth, formerly void and empty (Genesis 1:2), becomes capable of sustaining life. 

Despite the importance of light for our existence, the precise nature of light has long been a topic of much debate, centering on one question – is light made up of waves or particles? The correct answer is yes, sorta. Light is an electromagnetic wave that sometimes decides to act as a particle. Now, this is where things get tricky because when we think of particles we tend to think of mass, or matter. Basically something that takes up space in this universe and has substance. The typical definition of mass does not apply to light. Light has what is called relativistic mass which means that it has energy and momentum that allow it be effected by and to effect its environment. In other words, while you may feel the warmth of sunlight on your skin, you will never have to shovel piles of sunlight off your sidewalk because it has no resting mass. While all of this was pretty much nailed down by Einstein and his cohorts, until very recently science has only been able to observe light behaving as either a wave or a particle, but never both at the same time.

I know, you are all beginning to wonder if you stumbled onto the wrong blog, but bear with me, I am going somewhere. 

Light came into being because God said, “Let there be light.” There are two words to pay attention to here: said and light. When someone speaks they are creating sound waves, and waves transfer energy. They do not move matter, but rather they use matter as a conduit to for their energy. Now, I want you to think about God for a moment, you know the omnipotent creator God? What type of energy do you think he was transferring through his sound waves? Once your brain stops sizzling, keep reading. 

Before we go any further, let’s reframe this: God’s voice took on new properties. In the act of creation, the sound wave takes on new properties. It became more than a wave and more than particle, while remaining true to the behavioral characteristics of both. A new manifestation for the wave is given, but the original state as a wave is never surrendered. 

Let’s skip ahead about one and half millennia, and listen another fascinating statement:

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

There is a reason that Jesus chose light as way to explain himself to the world. In him we can see all the observable elements of light in play. His life, death, and resurrection is the transformative act of creation, we call it redemption, but how much more transformative do you want? (And I am working on a theme here.) He rules over all creation just as God created the sun, moon, and stars to rule over day and night, (Ephesians 1:20, Genesis 1:14-19). He is the first born of creation, all things were created for him, through him, and by him in his sustaining power, (Colossians 1:15, 16). 

In him we see the story of light, and in light we see his story as no other created substance could convey, but what the writer of Genesis could not know, what Jesus could not know if had not been more than a man, was how the dual nature of light expresses the greatest mystery known to all of humanity – how can a holy God become fully human without surrendering his original state? In other words, how does a wave become a particle? How does spirit become flesh? How do we explain an omnipotent God whose presence is only measured by the effect he has on our lives while never overwhelming us with his infinite greatness? 

To realize that this great truth was embedded into creation from the beginning is mind blowing. To me it speaks of a God who playful and profound, hiding but wanting to be seen, waiting upon our willingness to chase after him and unravel the mysteries that reveal his love and greatness for his creation. And as I find these little nuggets within this ancient book, I am overwhelmed that we have been given such a great in his Word faithfully preserved for us to this day.

Obviously, the illustration breaks down as all comparisons of Jesus to any created thing as Jesus was not created but the created. However, the use of metaphor is employed by Jesus himself as a means to help us understand his person, nature, and position within creation. The beauty of this metaphor is that it encompassed current scientific knowledge of light over 3,000 years before the dual nature of light was known. By choosing to identify with light, Jesus places himself in the center of creation and time by embodying all ancient understandings of light and concepts embedded within the science that will shape our future. 

Facing My Hypocrisy

There is nothing like getting slapped upside the head with your own hypocrisy. In the rankings of unpleasant things it is somewhere above having your leg rotting away with methicillin resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA), and just slightly below being eaten alive by rats. However, while I strongly advise avoiding those two scenarios, honesty requires that I acknowledge not only the benefits but the necessity of having our hypocrisy exposed even when it hurts.

It is the temptation and joy of every believer to indulge in complacency about our faith. We like thinking that we have figured out. The rules are simple, the requirement light, and our lives fall into a pattern of convenient obedience. If you are like me, you build a world where blatant sin is hard to come by. Things like killing, stealing, adultery, even gossip, if you are good enough at the game, become more troublesome than being good. Outward obedience becomes easy, and in fact, outward obedience becomes so important that you recoil at the thought of doing anything that would threaten your image of being the good Christian.

But it’s a trap.

Over the past five years, I have spent a lot of time building a social network designed to give me a platform from which to speak. I have been careful with what I post, with what I say, and with what I reveal. People see my work and they say, “Oh, you are edgy!”, “You are so brave to say that!”, and “Wow, I cannot believe how honest you are about these issues!” I have got to be honest with you, I love hearing all that. I love being able to shake people up by talking about things that intimidate so many others. The affirmation is wildly addictive.

But I haven’t been completely honest in my work, at least not as honest as I should be. For a long time now, I have been resisting the prompting to go deeper. If anything resisting is too mild of a word, more like kicking and screaming my protests as I am trying to claw my way free of God’s grasp on my life, and I have been pretty good at justifying it to myself. So many of you know so much about my life already, about things I have experienced that most women keep covered up, and yet, I am the one who will stand in the middle of room full of strangers and tell you the story of how my life was destroyed by violence and deceit. I will tell you have the hard years of being the divorced woman in church, and I will admit to the times of destitution while trying to raise my daughters. I will recount those moments when I defied God, daring him to show himself to be real in the wreckage of my life, and how he met there.

I could do that because I locked down all the emotions. I cut them off and buried them deep so I could tell my tale without flinching. I “set my face as flint” because I did not want to feel the humiliating sting of pity. I would do lip service to my part in the story.  I could admit the pride – the sheer hubris that led me into those places. I could be so stinking spiritual about it all that I would even say that I was thankful for that time, and laugh about how it took something that severe to get through to someone as hard headed as I am. I could confess how I had been a fool and share with you what I had learned, but I never let the enormity impact me, not really, not deep down where counted. It was an intellectual assent to what I knew to be right and good, but there was no heart behind it.

You see, I knew all the answers. I knew which verses to quote and how to phrase things to that you would hear how dazzling my intellect was and never notice what was behind the curtain. After a while, I forgot that there even was a curtain, let alone that there was something behind it. I convinced myself that this was me, all there was to me, and no one needed to know that there was more, not even myself.

The thing is when you lock down your heart that tight, it can’t beat. There is no room left for it to function, and you slowly begin to die. I kept the pain at bay, and if you don’t feel any pain you don’t react. Emergencies and crises become your forte, because you they don’t rattle you at all. How could they? At that point you are nothing more than a robot who is carrying out the programming, a program I did and still do believe is right, but one I could never implement completely because the primary code is love. And acts of love can be performed, but if the emotion is not there then you are offering nothing but pretty lie.

The other problem is if you never feel the pain of a wound inflicted, you will never be able to forgive. You may be able to respond with the appropriate gesture or kind word, but the hurt is still there just lurking behind the curtain. The apathy that was once a shield will harden into bitterness, and the sense of satisfaction for your self-control becomes wall of pride and disdain for those who allow emotion to rule their hearts.

Love for God and reliance upon him erodes, as your ability to cope becomes the new god to whom you have erected your altars. Relationship becomes ritual, not because you derive any enjoyment from his presence, but simply because it is the proper thing to do and your delight is in your ability to do the ritual well. Prayers become perfunctory and empty repetition, as you are left to wonder if he hears you at all, but since when was God ever servant to the decrees of the mind? And how is he to respond to the cries of a heart you have strangled in a futile attempt at self-preservation?

Then comes the day when he places the choice before you, the one you have worked so hard to avoid, do you love him or do you love the life you have created? Do you trust him to heal the wounds you have denied? Do you want him or the walls of protection you have built around yourself?

The answer should be easy. For my mind knows the correct response, but my heart is still clutching at the curtain afraid to step into the light. I was hurt the last time I let down my guard. I still have the scars to prove it. The select few I allowed to peek in used their privilege as the means to hurt me further. I still bleed from those cuts, but I caught breath of fresh air and felt the surge of blood coursing through my veins once more. I remembered what it felt like to be alive once again, and something within me is crying out that this is what I desire more than the false security I have relied upon. The next step is not safe, but even as I accept that peace floods over me because I know that only when my heart is revealed that he becomes its true defender and king.