Searched, found, reminded.

{Psalm 139:23-24}

Sometimes I think I have myself figured out. I assume I see myself clearly, believe I have dealt with my past, think my belief in the Lord is aligned.  Then the Lord uses strangers, who aren't strange at all, to reveal the truth in my heart, a reality I could not see.

In prayer, just a half hour or so before, I had asked to be searched and examined because I don't want to live in untruth, and I saw God answer that. I did not expect it- at least not then and there. Through that, the Lord affirmed to me what He was showing me in my studies- that He places believers (brothers and sisters in Christ) in our lives (possibly in passing, maybe for a season or a lifetime) to be mirrors, to ask hard questions, to shine light on areas we never knew were in darkness. 

The Lord revealed an area where I had unknowingly been living in untruth. He freed me to speak the truth about what I was feeling deep within, feelings I had been carrying for over a decade, even though relational healing had occurred.  I really did not see how these things tied into how I felt about my God, and it was really amazing to see God pull that out of me using a fellow brother in Christ as His instrument in a small prayer session.

Most of my life, I have had a running commentary on who I am set on repeat in my mind.  You're different. You're weird. That's bad. You're ridiculous. You're annoying. You're a bother. You're dumb. You're unworthy, uncool. You're a screw-up. Nothing you say has value. You don't fit in. You don't matter. You don't deserve....

For some reason, my flesh looks for reasons to affirm those things- inspects what people say and do, likely reading more into it than is really there- just so it can say, "Yep, you are those things. Here's the proof. You haven't changed."

In sharing that, we were able to trace the threads back to various situations where someone's words became the soundtrack of my life, which brought forth how I really feel about those situations and that period of my life.

The word that kept repeating to me was, "Unprotected."

The person I felt like should have been there in particular situations, who should have stuck up for me, who should have been my protector, was not. His comment of, "You can take care of yourself," may have been meant to build my confidence, but it did not.  I desired someone to step in and shield me, stick up for me, protect me.  I desperately wanted this person's approval, and lived most of my preteen/teen years doing things to win it- dating certain people, doing drugs, taking risks that I wouldn't normally have taken- which really put me in many dangerous, unhealthy situations.

Much of this happened in a time when I was pretty much left to myself. At that time, I probably would have said I rather enjoyed it- preferred it because the boundaries which I was used to had suddenly disappeared (or could be easily manipulated) and by default I was given more control over my own life- but now I can see how desperately I needed those firm, unmovable boundaries.

Thinking on these things brought out my true feelings on the matter.  I didn't realize that I was frustrated and angry with the situation that the people I felt should have sheltered me, who should have protected me from the world... or even more important, protected me from my immature youthful self, had not been there (for whatever reason- I am sure there are more reasons than the ones I understand). I had put that upon the Lord- feeling like He had abandoned me, not been there for me in those situations, left me to myself.  (To be clear, I was frustrated with the situation, not with the people. I have forgiven the people involved.)

I didn't think I felt those things towards the Lord because I can clearly see that He spared me from sinking even further, saved me from situations which could have been much worse, but God revealed that there was still something deep within me that questioned Him, something within me that didn't completely believe that He had really sheltered me.

I found myself asking, "Why weren't You there, God? Why didn't You save me sooner? Why did You let me go through all of that?" I saw myself as a little girl, needing a covering but without one. I suppose something within me felt like God wasn't there, that He let me endure all of that because .... well, let's go back to the soundtrack repeating through my head...

You're different. You're weird. That's bad. You're ridiculous. You're annoying. You're a bother. You're dumb. You're unworthy, uncool. You're a screw-up. Nothing you say has value. You don't fit in. You don't matter. You don't deserve....

I'm probably not conveying this clearly because, honestly, it wasn't super clear in my mind, and it's difficult to tie it all together. The mind is so screwed up- that's why it needs renewing.

I was told to ask, "Lord, who do You say I am?"

I just couldn't bring myself to ask it.  The whole thing of asking questions, seeking answers was really difficult because I felt like a spirit of confusion and forgetfulness was hovering over me. I had a hard time focusing. My mind would go completely blank, and not in a good way, or I would be flooded with so many words and images at once that I couldn't focus on anything. My friends prayed that those spirits would be cast out and would not be able to hinder me from seeing the Truth.

I asked God where He was in all of that.  Where was He when I was suffering? I did not have a relationship with the Lord then. I was not a believer. I knew about God, but it was a list of rules to me.  

God gave me a picture of an old frail man laying on a cot. The man is racked with regret and guilt and pain. He feels like he is far from God- unredeemable.  What he doesn't know is that the Lord is there with him in that very moment, that the Lord has stretched his years this far even though death should have overcome him long ago. He has done that for a reason. And He has been there all the while.

I know this man.  He is my grandfather. Yet he is also me.

I heard the Lord say, "I pity him," and I was filled with disgust because pity sounds like a bad word, and I wanted to yell, "I don't want your pity!" but I realize I need it.

The Lord said to me (not audibly, but.. it was very plain and clear), "I was there then. I watched over you, protected you when no one else was protecting you. You were in My hand. I knew you though you didn't know Me. I could have saved you, opened your eyes, given you faith, brought you into My fold then, but I waited. I waited to give you a grander testimony for My sake, to reach those who needed your testimony. You needed to feel unredeemable to reach those who feel unredeemable."

Finally, I was able to ask, "Lord, who do You say I am?" and He gave me the simplest answer.

Amanda.

Do you know what Amanda means?

Worthy of Love

Below is great song that I have been singing a lot these last couple months. As I listened to it again that night, every single word seemed to resonate within me. It's really amazing how the Lord brought together lyrics I have written recently, songs I have heard on the radio or through friends, a blog post I wrote this time last year, things people said, conversations we've had recently, and so much more... and brought it all together for me at once.... like pieces of a puzzle I had gathered throughout the years, finally fitting together.

Do you need to be reminded of who you are because the voices around you and in your head keep telling you lies?

Life and Truth

Here's a copy-paste post from my other blog, MandyMom.com.  I wanted to share it here as well since it deals with matters of faith.

 It's been hard to find time to update, and when I do have the time, sleep sounds much more appealing. Other priorities, y'know. I'm sure you all can understand that.  I know I say this just about every time I write a real entry, but gosh-darn, life has been so busy.  I can't remember the last time I had a day to just relax.  I don't think I've had any of those for the past, oh, seven weeks.  In retrospect, I'm so thankful that we sent the kiddos to my mother-in-law's after Jub'ee was born because once the kids came back, life went from zero to sixty in point five seconds.

I've had a couple of those, "Man, I wish my mama was here," moments.  I really cannot allow myself to think about how I wish things were.  Fact is, she's disabled and unable to help in that capacity, but I know she really wishes she was able, and, if she was able, she would be here every time I whimpered. I know I've expressed before how my mom was before the car accident that changed her life (and therefore our lives) eleven years ago.  She was able to whip a house into shape (and I'm talking model-home-shape, white-glove-test shape, near-perfection sparkleatude) in what seemed like mere seconds, all while dinner stewed on the stove.  Seriously, Mom was Wonder Woman, except with a bun (and more modest clothing).  I know my mom has spent many hours (days) sobbing because she can't be what she desires to be for her daughter and grandchildren.  There are few things my mom wants more than to serve us in that capacity.  She would have been the picture perfect epitome of a grandmother.  Not that she's not a fabulous Nana just as she is now, but her disabilities keep her from serving as I know she desires to serve.  She just isn't able to do that, and I totally understand that.  I am very grateful that she was able to do that with my first child.

{Mom and Jubilee}

 I remember coming home from the hospital with Merikalyn wrapped in my teenage arms.  Mom and Dad had overhauled our humble abode (a tiny trailer, just perfect for a family of three), caught up the laundry, and prepared meals for us to feast on.  My place had never seemed more inviting.  And boy, did I need my mama that first week (not just because I was a new mother, but because I came home with double mastitis and a high fever, plus a severe case of anemia to boot).  I know that was extremely exhausting for my Mom, but I am so glad the Lord gave her strength to do that for me.  What a blessing! The Lord has been gracious to give her strength when I've really needed her to have strength!

Anyway, like I said, life has been a little crazy.  My husband worked nights for the first two months of Jubilee's life, which was nice in many ways (having him home during the day has been such a blessing!), but exhausting as well.  We are both so tired.  In fact, a couple days ago, after dinner with my favorite midwife (my friend Nanci), I came home, did that "bad mommy thing" (put the babies to bed, then put on a movie for the kids to watch and told them to go to bed when it was done), and crashed.... at 7:30pm.  I slept for 12 hours (not solid sleep, since I did have to wake up to make sure the kids went to bed, and to nurse the baby several times as well, but solid enough), and still felt weary when I woke up.  I am definitely having to take naps.  I told my brother today that I am turning into our mom! (I used to think it was crazy that she had to take daily naps!  I didn't understand that we adults don't have all the energy our kiddos do!)

I am really not sure how we manage to do all that we do.  I could use more hours in the day, but I am thankful that there aren't more hours in the day because I am worn out with the twenty-four I'm given!  I am really, really glad we put in the effort to teach our children how to care for the home because I know that I would be even more weary if I had to do everything myself.  They don't know how much of a blessing they are by helping with the dishes and laundry!  (But I try to encourage and remind them of how awesome they are!) I am so amazingly, wonderfully blessed. I feel like God has just loaded my arms with gifts beyond measure.  Sometimes I get "a little" overwhelmed, but that overwhelming feeling is just a reminder that I am trying too hard to juggle on my own terms, and I need to rely on Him and His strength, not my own ideals, my own agenda, my own strength.

The Lord has been doing some major "house cleaning" in my heart, and as a result I have experienced a lot of spiritual warfare.  Satan knows just how to push my buttons, how to flare up my pride and selfishness, how toget me berating myself... and the Lord keeps reminding me that I don't have to listen to that garbage.  One of the things I have felt prompted to do is regularly write down truths the Lord wants me to focus on. I don't know about you, but I've spent much of my time rehearsing the lies the devil whispers in my ear, but not near as much time reminding myself of God's truths.  

Last week, the Lord had me focusing on these truths:

• My identity is found in Christ.
• I am loved, deeply loved, by God.
• There is infinite power in the palm of my Father's hand.
• The Lord desires to bless me, not to hurt me.
• My Father hates to see me suffer, but loves me enough to allow it because it refines me, grows me, molds my character.
• Jesus will NEVER let me down.
• I can ALWAYS depend on Him.
• He cares about even the smallest details of my life. It matters to Him.
• He hears me. He is listening.
• Nothing is impossible for Him.

Whenever Satan starts poking and pestering me, the Lord reminds me to live and move in the Truth of His Word.  I am not what or who Satan says I am. I am who God says I am.  God is not who Satan says He is.  God is who He says He is, who His Word says He is.  I cannot tell you how ..... strong..... the Lord has been impressing that upon me. Satan wants me to believe lies about myself and my God so I live a defeated life.  God wants me to believe that, through Christ Jesus, I am worthy. I am passionately loved and pursued by Him.  When I live and move and breathe in those truths, I live in the light, and the Spirit can live mightily through me.

My sweet little Evie-toddler just came to me with her pajamas gripped in her chubby little fist wanting me to put them on her, and I was reminded that, you know, she makes a lot of mistakes.  She's learning. She's growing.  When she makes a mistake, I don't furrow my brow and shake my finger at her yelling, "Why are you so dumb? Why did you do that!?  Why can't you get that right?"  That would be ridiculous! Her little toddler feet are going to trip and fall.  She's going to get into stuff she's not supposed to get into.  She's going to spill stuff, break stuff, ruin stuff.... and I will still love her just as much as I do when she's perfectly behaved.  I know she's going to make mistakes. I know she's going to have booboos and break things and hurt my mamaheart sometimes. God knows I'm going to have booboos and break things and grieve His Spirit.  When I slip and fall and make massive mistakes, He's not hovering over me berating me, telling me I'm worthless. That is what Satan does, not my loving Father.  When I screw things up, nail pierced hands pick me back up.  I am deeply loved. When I make a mess, the Lord helps clean it up. He loves me. He adores me.  A good picture of His love is the parable of the Prodigal Son who takes his inheritance, wastes it, and returns home a complete mess.  His father doesn't go off on a tirade of how dumb his son acted. The father doesn't punish his son.  He doesn't call him names and tell him he's worthless.  NO! He welcomes him home, hugs him tight, and throws a big party!  He kills the fattened calf and invites everyone to celebrate.  Why? Not because his son was disobedient, but because his son turned his heart to his father.  What a picture of the Father's love for me.... and for you!

Anyway, I had not intended to go into all of this.  I really was just coming here to say, "Hi, I'm still here. Still putting one foot in front of the other."

It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23

Worry or Trust?

Parenthood.  It's full of lessons, isn't it?

Even before the child forms in the womb, many of us learn the hard lesson that we don't have as much control over these things as we'd like.  As we struggle with infertility or miscarriage or still born losses, we become keenly aware that we cannot force a child into being, cannot control the life forming within.

Our baby girls have thrown us for such loops during their womb-stays. Evangeline with her three-chambered heart and cyst on the brain, Molly with her extra amniotic fluid and possibly-flipped organs (we will find out whether she really has situs reversus soon).  We begin to worry, What does this mean for our babies? Will they be okay? And when God moves His hand in a healing answer to our prayer, we feel silly for even worrying about it, yet we find ourselves wondering, Why did God heal my child and not hers, or theirs, or that one? Why are we so fortunate?

From the beginning, we realize that we don't want to go this alone, don't want a day without the Lord's hand crafting each and every moment, leading each and every foot step.

When we walk down that hallway, with our oldest daughter riding in a little red wagon clutching her Clifford to her chest, toward the room where they will open up her skull and slice so close to vital brain tissue I am all to aware that I have no control. I am powerless.

But there is One to whom there are no surprises.  There's no shocking God. He sees the bigger picture. He is standing outside of time, and He knows what was, what is, and what is to come. I am weak, but He is strong. I am limited but He is limitless.

I can fight it, or I can surrender and trust. I can fret and worry and pace which brings forth no good thing, or I can rest in knowing that all things are in the Father's hand.

And so, when my baby is born with fluid in her lungs, and her heart stops, and the midwives are leaning over her, mouth to mouth, chest compressions, suctioning.... I can rejoice in the truth that I am His daughter, He hears my prayers, and He's in control.

 

You can read the birth story of Molly Jo Jubilee on MandyMom.com.

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What I learned from skipping Christmas

 I am really, really glad we decided to do a low-key Christmas this year.  It was truly a relaxed, hassle-free holiday for once, especially since we were able to avoid all the chaos of the stores.

We were able to steer clear of most of the commercial holiday gimmicks (especially since we don't watch television), and no one seemed to miss going sans-trees and holiday decor. (Although, I still do have a fake strand of evergreen above the kitchen windows- it's been there for a year.)  I've read so many posts on Facebook, blogs, and other places in which people exclaim that they are so stressed out.  And, from my current prospective, I have to say that most of that stress is self-done.  I feel we choose to put so much on ourselves around the holiday seasons- we want it to look and feel a certain way, and we think we have to have so many gifts under the tree, and the family meal has to go just perfect and....

Then there's the depression that sets in when you cannot afford to buy very many gifts for your children, and the pretty Christmas picture you have in your mind does not unfold as you wish it would. I know what that's like, I've been there as well.  But, more and more lately, our family has been looking at other families around the world and seeing that, even at our poorest, we are incredibly rich.  

We complain about not having this or that gadget or toy, or not having the best gifts under the tree, or there not being ham at the Christmas Eve dinner (finger pointing at my husband here, ha!) .... and we're so caught up in what we want, what we desire, and things we think we need... when in reality, it's all a cherry on top. I suppose this is one of the big negatives of living in America where wealth is taken for granted and called "poverty", where people who have a big screen television and expensive gadgets complain about not having enough food on the table. I don't think we understand how completely ridiculous that sounds to someone in Lesotho, South Africa where our friend, Nkutu, lives.

Our perspective is extremely skewed, and we call our selfish desires our "rights", and we think we deserve every little thing we desire while people who work harderthan us, live tougher than us, and see things no human being should ever see struggle just to get food on the table. 

Believe me, I'm preaching to myself as much as anyone else.

And, maybe it sounds like I can say this stuff now because we're doing good financially, but that hasn't always been the case.  And, while the main reason we're doing well financially is because of the grace of God, another reason is because we've learned our lesson in managing money, don't buy anything we can't pay with in cash, and try to keep a savings stored up.  However, all of that is just MONEY and it can be gone in a second.. and someday it will.  (Seriously, all China has to do is cash in on all the debt we owe them, and the people of the United States are going to find that they won't be able to afford a loaf of bread!)

For all the folks talking about the "Christmas Spirit", I really hope they aren't talking about the Spirit of Christ... because that's not what I see this time of year (for the most part). What I see is a spirit of materialism, people concerned about what they are getting, what to get for other people, who got something better than they did.....  and depressed when the "Christmas Spirit" doesn't hit us like we hoped, and we can't smile through the season because the season is a hassle and a hoax and is making us go broke and our kids hardly appreciate the things we spent good money on.

Know what I mean?

I'm not saying we can't have nice things, but man... so often we make life about those "nice things".  This morning, I was looking at my face in the  mirror, noticing the subtle changes that aging brings, and I actually felt okay with that.  It's just a face, it's just skin, it's just a vessel. It's not me... it's just the vessel that contains me.

Lord, I don't want to be so obsessed with how I look, what I have, and my own status in life that I miss the point of it all.  It's not about any of that, yet we spend so much of our time- waste so much of our time- obsessing over it all.

These last half-dozen years of my life have been very interesting to say the least. I had everything stripped away from me, and I had everything "returned" (so to speak) and more. For me, who I was, my identity, was tied to my stuff- the appearance of things, how it looked, how I looked, what I had.  It was very humbling to have that all taken from me. Very. 

I didn't write a lot on my blog in those days, and when I did, I didn't go into much detail about that part of our lives. It was embarrassing. I didn't want anyone to know that we hardly had two pennies to rub together, and were always in danger of losing our business and our home.   But, through all of that, God taught me that it's just stuff.  And I learned to give, even when I had little to give (whether it was of my money, time, effort, strength, love..).  I learned to take joy in those "simple" things, which, in reality, are the big things.

But it's so easy to forget those lessons.

This month has been absolutely amazing as we have leaned on the Lord to show us what to do, how to bless others, how to be vessels of His love. I keep having to remind myself- it is not about  me.  It's easy for me to get caught up in my wants, feelings, plans.... and to ignore God's desires, His will, His hopes for me.

We started out this month with plans not to "do Christmas", and yet I feel that we have "done" Christmas more than ever.  It has been so refreshing to set aside the materialism, the rush and the mental stress of it all, and just focus on Christ.   It's been so great have so many opportunities to teach our children about giving, real giving.  Giving to people who can't afford to return the favor, who won't be able to repay your kindness.  I'm talking about the kind of giving that is not a "gift exchange", but the kind of giving that is as Christ's example- giving to those who truly need and will never ever be able to repay you.  I mean, if we're going to celebrate Christmas, isn't that what it's REALLY all about?

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. [Romans 5:8]

For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.  [Romans 5:6] 

That is what it's about, isn't it? That's what life is about.  Sometimes I picture Christ dying for those who had stoned Him, scorned Him, betrayed Him- dying for those who hate Him, blaspheme Him, use His name in vain.  Dying for those who justify sin and love wrong-doing.  Dying... dying for the murderer, the child-abuser, the rapist.  Not just the "good" people, but those society deems bad and horrible and disgusting as well.

This is the kind of love we are called to have. To love the unlovable, not just those we like.  To give, to extend ourselves to the fullest extent.  To think of others, to serve others, above ourselves.

This was the lesson God was desperately trying to teach me when  our friends were living with us, yet I kept thinking about myself, my own feelings, and justifying myself by society's standards.  Afterall, as people kept telling me, hadn't we gone "above and beyond" in inviting a family of six into our home for a month? 

But Christ calls us to go beyond what "good people" do, to stretch ourselves, to give until it hurts.  And, in doing that, there really is no room for this mindset that Imust have, I will have, I deserve....

Like I said, I feel that, in "skipping" Christmas, I have had the best Christmas of all.  I've appreciated my family more than ever, I've enjoyed giving more than ever, I've seen the Holy Spirit move more than ever (not that He wasn't moving before, I just didn't see it).

Through Gates of Splendor

I eagerly anticipated its arrival, so when I saw a cardboard box tucked into our mail slot, a gleeful squeal swelled from inside me. I would have skipped home except that I had my sweet baby perched upon my hip and a roll of junk mail adverts tucked under my arm as I tried to juggle the box upon my other hip.

I slit the tape, pulling out the books from the box one by one. And then there it was, Through Gates of Splendor, its glossy cover calling out to me.

I have heard tidbits of the Elliots, yet I was fairly clueless as to who they were, clueless of "their story".  Unfortunately, my childhood was not filled with stories of men and women who were passionate for Christ, risking all for the gospel sake, leaving behind the comforts and pleasures of modern society to bring the gospel to the beyond the reaches of what we call civilization. On the upside, now, here in my adult years, I am soaking up stories of missionaries- ordinary men and women devoted to an extraordinary God and determined to minister to lost souls- men and women who sacrificed earthy gain to pursue Christ.

With four children and a household to tend to, my reading is often a page or two here and there, so I have yet to venture passed the first chapter and am only on page 8, yet my heart beats wildly when as I read each sentence, and I anticipate the moment when I can settle down with the book again and read the "first-hand account of five young men whose obedience to God led them into the jungles of Ecuador, and ultimately into martyrdom". (Blurb on the book jacket.)

I admit, I have already flipped through the book to browse the photos shared within.  My curiosity compelled me to see what such men of God looked like.  Amazingly, they look like regular fellows.  They were likely called handsome and strapping in their day.  Jim Elliot was an educated and intelligent young man.  I'm sure people thought he was wasting his life by shipping off to Ecuador to minister to a people group who had murdered the last white man who attempted to do so.

Following his junior year in college, Jim writes to his parents, "Seems impossible that I am so near my senior year at this place, and, truthfully, it hasn't the glow about it that I rather expected.  There is no such thing as attainment in this life; as soon as one arrives at long-coveted position he only jacks up his desire another notch or so and looks for higher achievement-- a process which is ultimately suspended by the intervention of death. Life is truly likened to a rising vapor, coiling, evanescent, shifting. May the Lord teach us what it means to live in terms of the end, like Paul who said, "Neither count I my life dear unto myself, that I might finish my course with joy....'"

What great wisdom in such a young man!  Unfortunately, men of my generation do not have this understanding. How rare it is to find a young person pursuing the heart of God instead of chasing after the cares of this life!

I am really looking forward to digging into this book.  I do believe I will be posting about it again (and again!).

You can purchase it here for 9.99 (hardcover), or get the mass marketed paperback version for 5.99 .  There is also an unabridged MP3 available as well as a DVD. You can find it in Spanish. I've heard wonderful things about it, so... while I have yet to complete the book, I can guarantee that you will benefit from this true testimony!