In Luke 4, Jesus arrives in His hometown of Nazareth and, as is His usual practice, He goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath and is given the floor by the religious leaders to teach. What He reads is His job description, prophesied hundreds of years before by Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, Because He has anointed Me To preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives And recovery of sight to the blind, To set at liberty those who are oppressed; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”
As I read this passage this morning, I was struck by the lines I italicized. It occurred to me that these functions of Jesus’ purpose are all a rolling back of conditions that have brought their victims to life all-stop.
the brokenhearted? Used to be whole-hearted.
the captives? Used to walk free.
the blind? Used to see (note: “recovery” of sight)
the oppressed? Used to feel joy and hope.
Jesus comes to restore, give back, full life to those who no longer have it. Who’ve been ripped off.
Someone, some circumstance, broke their hearts, took them captive, blinded eyes, shattered joy. They live like taped-up Humpty Dumpties. No one seems to be able to put them back together again.
This reminds me of Paul saying to the Corinthians, “But I fear, lest somehow, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, so your minds may be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ.” (2 Cor 11:3) Paul was saying, I am jealous for you on Christ’s behalf that you walk in the abundant life you started off in, but I’m afraid you’ve been ripped off. Diverted. Deluded.
Friends, did any of you used to be whole-hearted, free, clear-sighted, joyful—but now feel broken, captive, blind, oppressed? It’s HARD to live that way! Maybe you even walk as a Christian lugging a burden of brokenness or under a cloud of oppression. This is not unusual: if the enemy can’t have you completely, he’ll settle for half. He’ll take his reward as you have an anxiety attack in the church bathroom or feel numb as worshipers lift their hands in the next row. He’ll feel satisfied when you consistently live less-than.
Why? Because Ephesians 2:10. Paul tells us there that we are God’s masterpiece, made to do all kinds of purposeful good stuff that God thought up for us even before the creation of the world. If the enemy can keep us brokenhearted and blind and oppressed and captive, buying the lie that this is as good as it gets or deciding this is just our cross to bear—well, he figures he’s got a dub.
I for sure understand this one. Although when young I remember feeling joy and simple excitement about relationship with Jesus, I’ve lived a lot of my life with corners of yuck that have kept me from believing I am who He says I am and walking confidently and purposefully in what He made me to do. I’ve felt like a square peg in a round hole at times, trying to fit where God didn’t make me to fit and please people He didn’t tell me to please. I’ve let Him re-set me over the past months and though I’m still a work in progress, I feel Him putting me back where I was before the enemy scored his points. It’s actually so much simpler than I’ve been living; I think the enemy likes to complicate a whole lot of stuff. And I feel a joy I haven’t felt in a very long time.
If you’re limping along in less-than sight, freedom, joy, and whole-heartedness, ripped off and deluded and diverted, go talk to Jesus. He specializes in healing broken hearts, giving back freedom, and restoring clear vision. Reversing the rip-offs. Go!
I just finished listening to the final episode of the podcast series, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.” It was a tough haul, hearing of so much woundedness caused by the leadership of Pastor Mark Driscoll. The clip in each week’s intro of his screaming made me cringe. This isn’t a dissertation post to examine all the Mars Hills issues, but rather a quick, not-super-organized reflection on the overall series and what it has to say about church.
First, it reminded me in a powerful way of the vulnerabilities of our pastors. Pastors are just men, after all, subject to faults and failings, battling a sin nature just like everyone on this planet. The enemy’s plans are always to steal, kill, and destroy, and when he can take out a spiritual leader through snaring and flaring his intrinsic vulnerabilities—a leader with so much influence, at that—he hits the jackpot (or so he thinks..for a limited time). We hear about it often, and I can think of one such case in the headlines this past year. The wreckage is great: pastor/family ruined, congregation bruised and bleeding, social media cacophonous with condemnation for Christians, the name of Jesus and the gospel dragged through the mud. Pastors need an accountability network, close friends who will tell them the truth, access to pastoral counseling themselves, and consistent prayer cover.
Second, it made me think how, on a smaller scale, there are many churches functioning in the dysfunctionality of a personality cult pastor. In one of the early episodes, Mike Cosper discusses the converging events of a charismatic pastor with a big, “unique” vision spun for a congregation who believes they are in on a special move of God. The seeming urgency of the mission and their “chosenness” for it causes those in the pews to push aside the red flags of false doctrine, spiritual abuse, and unbiblical practices. They sign on to the leader’s spin, sometimes announced from the pulpit, regarding people who leave either because they’ve seen the toxicity or because they have been fired for confronting it. The congregation will, as Cosper also explores, justify the means to achieve the ends, nodding to each other that there’s expected “collateral damage” (Mark’s “bodies behind the bus”) along the way to great evangelistic “success.” Further, there are people in the seats who are abuse survivors of one trauma or another whose personalities are wired to get hooked into further victimization, without realizing they’re walking down a road already traveled. Lastly, some are just so hungry and thirsty for connection with Jesus that they’ll push aside the problems in order to gain the glimmers of the gospel that do come through. The result is that many churches in this country, small and large, are operating in dysfunctionality that echoes Mars Hill to one degree or another.
Third, I ponder the necessity to a healthy church model of a “plurality of elders” leadership team. Driscoll’s narcissism, arrogance, and growing hardheartedness to the love/grace/mercy of the gospel created a nightmare that no one successfully confronted. Although there were two other founding pastors of Mars Hill, Driscoll was allowed to push them aside and “rule” unchecked. I don’t know a lot about church leadership structure, but it seems like a no-brainer that to allow only the senior pastor to set policy, determine direction, and hire/fire church pastors/staff is a recipe for at best, a lopsided church and at worst, as in the case of Mars Hill, tyranny. (See Acts 15 for how a healthy church handles a difficult policy decision.) A pastor who understands his own fallibility enough to establish a leadership structure with inherent checks and balances (i.e., men/women who are allowed, even encouraged, to oppose his decisions if unbiblical) is both wise and humble. Further, people determining whether or not to make a new church their home would be wise to ask if this kind of structure is in place.
I’m genuinely sad for those wounded by Mark Driscoll and the Mars Hill leadership team (many of whom, either in the midst of the chaos or since, have realized their roles in that system, repented, re-clarified their relationships with Christ, and sought reconciliation where possible). Some of the stories were just heartbreaking, especially when shaming and shunning were involved. For those who have never been able to return to church or to Christ, who now question their faith entirely and want nothing to do with Christians, I want to say—”Wait, don’t let Satan win! This is exactly what he wanted!” I want to tell them that man and an unbiblical church failed them, but that Jesus didn’t, and that His heart is broken that they were battered.
I’m also sad for those in leadership who no longer feel qualified to minister to God’s people, despite their now being on firm footing again with Jesus and others. If anything, they may be more qualified now than before their personal failures; see the biblical example of Peter, who Jesus felt fit to lead the Jerusalem church after his denial hours before He went to Calvary. Peter wasn’t ready till he was wrecked. Some of these folks might actually be ready now to lead compassionately and closer to the gospel than ever, aware of their need for accountability, biblical counseling on an ongoing basis, and a solid team of humble men and women to serve alongside.
Well, that’s my quick take on the Mars Hill podcast series. I felt it instructive and cautionary, a hard listen but a good lesson.
“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.’ Matthew 11:28-30, NLT
My husband and I were at the movies a few weeks ago. We’d gone to see a Christian movie that had just been released that day.
The theater was nearly empty, probably because it was actually the first screening of this new movie. We sat in the area hubby likes best: bottom row of the “top” section. No one in front of us, plenty of leg room. Up above us, a handful of rows back, were a group of five “older” women (I’m #forever49, so draw your own conclusions) (note: as of this re-publication I am now #tosixtyandbeyond!), happily clucking and chirping in conversation as longtime older friends do. My thought: that’s my Christian girlfriends and me in some years. Grin. There were maybe three or four other people in the theater, scattered above all of us.
Note this, because it’s important: happy flock of ladies would have seen us come in and sit down. We were the only people in front of them.
Ok. Great movie. Prayers, faith, Scripture, the gospel, salvations, miracles. End of movie.
Because I’m #forever49, I headed to the restroom where I found the clucking flock. No surprise. Grin. But as I walked in, one was on her way out, on the phone with what was clearly bringing her bad news. I was immediately sad for her. The flock headed out to the hallway to comfort her, and that’s where I found them when I exited the bathroom myself.
The woman who’d had the phone call was distressed, and the rest were asking questions and gathering information. I could tell someone was in the hospital. I felt sad for the hurting woman, and stood about 20 or 30 feet away observing; not to be rude, but because I was thinking about the fact that we were obviously all Christian women….who had just emerged from a Christian movie…and one of us needed what Christianity offers.
I’m on two prayer teams. One for the past 15 years, the other for a couple of months. Prayer is what I do. I wrote a book about prayer. I believe in prayer. I have seen oodles of answered prayer. Prayer is my place in the body of Christ, my spiritual gift that I exercise on behalf of my church, my family, my friends, and probably a thousand people over the years who I have never seen in person.
And here was a woman who needed prayer. I stood there waiting for the right time to walk over and say, “Can I pray for you?”
But suddenly one of the women declared, “Let’s go to prayer,” and they huddled up as she began to pray over the hurting woman. Obviously they believed in prayer too, so I stepped a bit out of my comfort zone to walk over and join them. I placed my hands gently on the backs of two women in the group and just silently agreed with the pray-er. This is good, right? The body of Christ, doing what we’re supposed to do? In unity?
Not so fast.
After the prayer was over, the women all turned to look at me. Understandable. I’ve just invaded their prayer bubble and I should ‘splain myself. I began to. I told the woman who’d had the phone call that I could tell she’d just had bad news, and that I am on a prayer team at my church.
Before I could go any further, I became aware that the woman next to me was restless. A bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know quite what that was about, but went on with my conversation, requesting if I could put the hurting woman’s loved one on our prayer chain. But unable to tolerate her discomfort anymore, restless woman kind of blurted out:
“Are you one of us?!”
Hmmm. “One of us?” As in, human? woman? Christian?
I figured she meant am I also a Christian (I mean, I did just say I have led a prayer team for 15 years at my church, but maybe she missed that part), and turned to assure her I was. I get it—I was a prayer-bubble-crasher, and that’s a little weird. I can see why that might have made her a little suspicious, but I was in the middle of ‘splainin myself. Just hang on, dear one.
I turned back to the hurting woman to gather some information about her loved one and ask for that person’s name as well as her own. But before I could get much further, the uncomfortable woman was uncomfortable again and loudly pronounced,
“We go to (well-known church in this city).”
It seemed to be thrown down like a battle standard in front of me. Clearly this woman’s identity was much wrapped up in her belonging to this church (again, a super great church), and she needed to know whether or not I had a battle standard from the same army as hers. I felt compassion for her unrest, even as her two questions were being tucked away in my heart as a bigger issue to grapple with after this conversation was done.
I gently responded to her with “ I go to ( well known church in this city).” Another woman reassured restless woman of my now-proven authenticity:
“Oh, that’s a good one.”
Wasn’t aware we were in a ratings game here, but I could almost feel their collective silent breath of relief. I wasn’t a cult member, witch, or from-an-unknown-church-weirdo. Because I go to (well-known church in this city), I pass the test. Their prayers are safe. They don’t have to re-pray because I had somehow contaminated the prayer huddle. I finished my conversation with hurting woman, assured her of our church’s prayers, and headed out of the theater.
As I walked away, the buzz started among them. “I saw her standing over there looking at us.” “She just walked up and put her hand on my back!” Ssssh, she might hear you. Grin.
Now, remember: these women had seen my husband and me enter the theater and sit in front of them. We had all been at the Scripture-filled, prayer-answered, miracle-happening movie together. To top it off, I WAS WEARING MY “LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER” T-shirt fercryinoutloud!
We need to talk about this, body of Christ. We got some ‘splainin to do.
First, let me say that I would never recognize any of these women if I saw them again on the street. And they were truly dear ladies who clearly love Jesus and have solid faith and the boldness to put their arms around each other and pray in the hallway of a movie theater. They did nothing wrong in this story; I’m not offended, shocked, or mad. To me they are simply representative of a dynamic in the church that we need to address.
In John 17, Jesus, in His great priestly prayer before he goes to the cross, says to His Father:
“I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me…I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me.” (verses 20-21, 23).
Sadly, I think too often these days we major in the minors. The headlines are shrieking events that should, from Matthew 24 and 2 Timothy 3 and other such passages, have us watching the skies. Millions are suffering without the gospel who live next door to us and work one desk over and sit across the lunch table from us…but instead we get sucked into pointing fingers at other Christians’ social media posts and fact-checking each other’s faith qualifications. (Again, total grace to the sweet flock ladies; they just got me to thinkin’). Are we not often so suspicious of each other that Jesus might shake His head and say, “This isn’t unity”?
You, child, you’re an arm. She’s a leg. See her over there? She’s an eye. Join up and pray. Be a body.
The body of Christ isn’t just all the parts of ministry that make up the place you go on Sunday. The body of Christ is believers in all the healthy Bible-teaching churches in this city…country…world.
Now please don’t take me wrong: I am NOT espousing a globalist, biblically compromising, one-size-fits-however-you-want-it-to doctrine. I still and will always to my last breath believe:
The Word of God is inerrant, every letter God-breathed. If the Bible says something is sin, it is sin. Still. Today. Yep.
God created the heavens and the earth.
Satan is a created being. He isn’t Jesus’ opposite, and he doesn’t rule hell. It’s his destination, not his domain.
We are sinners, every single one of us. Me. You. Yep.
Jesus is God, not a good man, a prophet, or one of many inspirational historical figures.
There is one way to salvation: grace through faith, and that not of our own, through the blood of Jesus. He is the only way to heaven. Period.
Jesus died for our sin, and it is paid for in full. He rose after three days, walked the earth for 40 days more, and then returned to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father.
He will return in just the same manner as He ascended.
There will be judgment for those who do not acknowledge Him as Lord, and eternity in hell. There will be no judgment but rather eternity in heaven for those who do. Hell. Heaven. Period. Yep.
The Trinity is a fact, all three persons equally God, the Holy Spirit the down payment of our inheritance given at the time we confess with our mouths our sin and our Savior.
Each of us is given spiritual gifts at the discretion of the Holy Spirit to carry out our life assignments, in our generation, so that the body of Christ works together in unity.
These issues are non-negotiable doctrine for those of us calling ourselves biblical Christians. So I’m not saying we aren’t to be discerning about with whom we’re partnering in prayer. What I am saying is, for those of us who agree on these fundamentals….but differ on other not-as-foundational subjects…it’s time for us to put down our pointing fingers and grab each other’s hands.
One of the neatest Bible studies I’ve been involved in was at my friend Glenda’s house. Using a Jon Courson commentary, we went through books of the Bible chapter by chapter. We represented a variety of churches and traditions, but together, we studied God’s Word, discussed it, learned, and prayed for each other.
The church the happy flock women go to? It’s denominational. Mine? Isn’t. Theirs features traditional worship, a choir in robes. Mine, contemporary, in jeans and T-shirts. Theirs runs a brick and mortar school. Mine, a homeschool. Together, we agreed in prayer for someone in crisis. I added one-more-intercessing-soul…and then about 20 more when I put her on the prayer chains on which I serve. That’s unity.
Let’s start from sameness and sort out the dangerous doctrine if it arises, rather than suspiciously sniff from the get-go. If someone crashes our prayer bubble, let’s pray now and let God sort out if her prayer reached His heart or not. It’s good to ask questions, but let’s not miss the point of Jesus’ prayer: unity, so that the world will believe God sent Him. Further, it doesn’t matter what church I go to and what church you go to. Our churches don’t qualify our character. Our churches don’t determine our eternity. The best question that sweet restless woman could have asked me is: “Is Jesus your Lord?” Resounding yes. Ok, we’re on common ground. Let’s prayer-huddle.
In Matthew 16, Jesus takes his disciples somewhere you would not expect a Bible teacher, especially God Himself, to take His students: the “gates of hell.”
Caesarea Philippi, a city in northern Israel not far from the Sea of Galilee, was known to be given over to the worship of Greek gods. Jesus led His group to a cave north of the city reputed to be the birthplace of the Greek god, Pan (the city, in fact, had been called Panias until renamed by the Roman leader Herod Philip); it was believed that this cave was where fertility gods spent the winter before reemerging through the waters of the underground spring. Maybe those thin-skinned gods couldn’t handle the harsh Israeli winters, or perhaps they had to rest up for all the hijinks you can read about in any Greek mythology book. At any rate, the entrance to this cave was called “the gates of hell,” and this is where Jesus asked the question every person on earth must answer for him/herself:
“Who do you say that I am?”
Peter, as usual the first to speak (the tendency got him into trouble a few times), nailed it: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Jesus praised Peter’s confession of faith and took it a step further: that on this rock (play on Peter’s name, which meant Rock) He would build His church and—here’s the text for this post—”the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Many scholars think Jesus was referring to Peter’s confession of faith in Him as the Messiah as the foundation of the modern church.
Let’s see how Jesus’ declaration has held up since He said it.
Jewish persecution: Stephen, arguably the first martyr, was stoned as Saul, a chief harasser of Jesus’ followers (later to become Paul, author of 2/3 of the New Testament), looked on. After this, a fire of Jewish persecution began that scattered disciples throughout Judea and Samaria. Imprisonment and beatings were common for followers of “The Way.” What happened? The church preached the gospel everywhere they went, and grew.
Roman persecution: Nero. Marcus Aurelius. Decius. Trebonianus Gallus. Valerian. We’re talking about Christians thrown to lions for public entertainment, covered in tar and set on fire as torches, sewn up in the skins of wild animals and released to dogs. What happened? The church met in the catacombs, and grew.
Through the years, opposition and persecution has come to the church in every part of the world where it has found a foothold: the Middle East, Europe, China, Japan, Russia, North Korea, India, Africa. The result? The church keeps growing.
In fact, the church has survived 2000 years of imprisonment, torture, executions, denial of basic human rights, threats, intimidation, losses of jobs and housing. Family members have been torn from each other’s arms and then beaten or killed in front of each other. Unspeakable torments have been inflicted on those who refuse to retract their faith in Jesus as the Messiah, Son of the living God.
2021. Because the internet, we now have current information on the plight of persecuted Christians all over the world; if you’re interested in the shocking facts, here is a “World Watch 2021” page with all the information. We know that 2.4 billion people on the planet identify themselves as Christians. Think of it: from that group of less than 20 ordinary men gathered at the “gates of hell” that day, 2.4 billion people now confess Jesus as Messiah, Son of the living God. According to Open Doors, 3.4 million of these Christians experience persecution for their faith, and last year more than 4700 were martyred.
However many times the gates of hell have attempted to prevail, they’ve never been able to avail.
This has all been a background perspective for the point I want to make in this blog. If you spend much time on social media these days (I actually try to spend progressively less as time goes on), you may think the church is teetering on the edge of extinction and battle stations have been called before all systems fail. I want to reassure you that it is not.
Last year when churches were shuttered during COVID lockdowns, it appeared, from the plethora of frantic posts, that American Christianity was collapsing. Not a whole lot of people countered these posts with the facts that restaurants, ballparks, nail salons, post offices, and yogurt shops were closed as well. Churches were shuttered because they were indoor gatherings of sometimes hundreds of people, sitting for lengthy periods, all breathing the same air during a pandemic of an airborne virus, but from these posts it appeared that floodgates of imminent demise were about to eradicate His people. Yet we had options to live stream services, meet outside, Zoom home fellowships, etc. so we could encourage each other, worship, and hear the Bible taught by our pastors (need I say, all these freedoms many of those on Open Doors’ World Watch page do not enjoy). Further, your church has been open again, probably for months now, as has mine. As are restaurants, ballparks, nail salons, post offices, and yogurt shops. The church survived, and I would not be surprised to find that it has grown since March 2020, much because so many online options were suddenly available.
Posts decrying the harassment and mistreatment of American Christians continue to fill social media feeds. The issues are many, but the sentiment is the same: we need to fight so the church doesn’t fall. This fighting seems to include re-posting sometimes untrue articles, writing elaborate and emotional diatribes against politicians/political parties, and shaming fellow believers who don’t rally to the cause.
Let me stop here and take a clarifying stand. I do not disagree with the truth that Christians are increasingly restricted, legislated against, untolerated, and verbally attacked these days. It is shocking to me to hear how viciously the word “Christian” (which means “little Christ”) can come out of a person’s mouth. It grieves me on behalf of the Lord who hung on the cross for those who spit His name. I do not deny that faith-based systems are under attack and that we are not being afforded the freedom of speech and exercise of our biblical beliefs that should be matter-of-fact under the Constitution of the United States. I know things are darkening as never before in this nation, and I agree that we cannot just roll over and let them happen without a squeak of complaint.
This also needs clarifying: these are not exactly Nero’s persecutions. At this point, persecution of the American church looks like Facebook jail, not torture chambers. No one is being publicly flogged or being forced to watch their children’s eyes gouged out. We know from the book of Revelation that for believers here during the Tribulation, these kinds of things will happen…and we can see how current restrictions and intolerances could lay the groundwork for that, but as of today in America, you are free to be a Christian walking down the street with your Bible in your hand, humming to the worship playlist in your AirPods.
So yes, we need to wisely mark the times in which we live and where they land on the Kingdom calendar. We need to pray, hard and long and consistently. We need to vote. We need to respect authority, but not agree to edicts that violate Scripture. We must be willing to share the gospel in conversational moments given to us by God in our friendships and family gatherings. We must use our social media to shine the light of Jesus and the hope of redemption.
Paul had good counsel for his disciple Timothy, who didn’t have Facebook or Twitter but ministered in a pretty challenging social climate just like us: “And a servant of the Lord must not quarrel but be gentle to all, able to teach, patient, in humility correcting those who are in opposition, if God perhaps will grant them repentance, so that they may know the truth, and that they may come to their senses and escape the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him to do his will.” 2 Timothy 2:24-26. Paul told Timothy the ultimate goal was the repentance and redemption of those who opposed him.
Folks: “..on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” Jesus doesn’t need our help to keep His church going. He’s not stressed, angry, or tearing His hair out. He’s not calling an emergency council of the Trinity: “Father, Holy Spirit, we’ve got a serious problem going on in the American church! Got any ideas?” He’s not appearing to us in dreams and visions urging us to repost rants and rally an army of stirred-up saints. He’s got this. In fact, He told us things would get crazy near the end (Matthew 24), so if things are getting crazy, guess what? Whether in a day, week, month, decade, or century, He’s about to call this thing done, because it’s been firmly under His control since Day 1. He will wrap it all up, and I’m thinking we will then realize we didn’t have to worry about our government or “the other side” of the political aisle destroying the church. Surprise! The gates of hell didn’t prevail. I’m thinking we will find ourselves wishing we’d used the time, instead, to gently do life with the people in our immediate face-to-face circles who needed to know Jesus loves and saves and would come again for those who wanted Him.
Let’s let Jesus keep His church going. He’s got a perfect track record since the day He committed to do so back at Caesarea Philippi. Let’s go and make disciples instead.
April 2022 was my last post here. Go ahead and read that first, then come back here. Ok so: sunset on homeschooling, “parenting”, being an at-home mom. As I read that post this afternoon, I am struck by the twilight melancholy notes of it. There was sadness, and there was trust for the next season’s “sunrise.”
I wish it had been that easy.
In June 2022, son #3 graduated community college, three AAs under his belt. The next day, son #4, my baby, crossed the stage at a local church, accepted his diploma–the end of my 16 year homeschool mom journey–and the storms immediately, as if pent up from all the years held back by grace, crashed in fury. For now nearly two years, we’ve barely caught our breath from one hurricane before another hit.
Less than 24 hours after son #4’s graduation, son #3 tested positive for COVID, infecting two brothers and a sister in law. Ten days after that, my husband, at high risk for many reasons and after more than 2 years of COVID safety, contracted it from a coworker. When I read his positive result, a word not usually uttered by “good Christian women” came impulsively out of my mouth. He got through it pretty well, with the help of Paxlovid, and we thought we were done with the monster.
July 2022. Hurricane: breakage in a way I’ve never experienced it before. (Fyi, just in case you’re speculating as to details? In all kindness, I’m confident your speculation is wrong, so maybe just keep on reading).
August. Son #3 moved away to begin the final two years of college. The night before he left town, he and I sat in the open back hatch of his car overlooking the ocean and I cried and cried over the brokenness that felt unfixable. Life was surreal and awful.
September. Hurricane: my husband, uncharacteristically sweating and rapidly fatigued most of the time, was diagnosed with long COVID. A few weeks later, he was in the hospital. Congestive heart failure, caused by the COVID virus. The cardiologist said if he hadn’t been admitted, he would soon have been dead. For three months he wore a portable defibrillator vest and we cringed for an alarm that would indicate cardiac arrest.
The holidays were hard.
January. Good reports from cardiac tests and doctor visits. My husband could return to work at the end of February.
June. Hurricane: my husband gets a call from HR that changes everything. We reel.
November. Hurricane: the next few weeks are foggy.
This chronology does not include the death of two beloved dogs I cared for constantly in their last months: one in January 2023, the other in December. Bookend deaths to the most tumultuous, difficult year I’ve ever lived. For some reason, I keep dreaming about them. In my dreams they are healthy, happy, running. Sometimes I wake crying, missing them so. They were lifetime dogs for our family, so there is real grief, but their deaths are also symbolic of larger losses. We’ve had a lot.
Lest you think all is loss, let me add in what’s missing. With each hurricane-lifequake came a settling when the ground stopped shaking. No one imploded, and no one was swallowed alive like Korah and his fam. There are some new horizons now that weren’t visible till the earth moved and the storm cleared.
My marriage grew, and my husband has a new love for Jesus: we read the Bible and pray together, he hasn’t missed a Tuesday men’s Bible study in forever, and he has a small army of believing brothers now who talk more on their group chat than my sisters and I do on ours. When the cardiologist said his heart had hardened from the CHF, we looked at each other and laughed because we know that actually the opposite has happened. God had purpose in the storms. We’re navigating and finding direction, making new memories with our most beloved ones. Learning new ways of being in relationship. It’s not easy, the letting go and the finding new footholds, but it’s worth it. Love is a disarming weapon. God had purpose.
There are next steps ahead for my husband’s career situation. God has been faithful. He’s had purpose.
I started school last March, during a lull in the hurricanes. I’m pursuing certification in biblical counseling. Pretty sure the hurricanes are preparing me for pretty much many situations that will be unraveled in my counseling office. Comforting others with the comfort I myself have received, indeed (2 Corinthians 1). God had purpose.
I love my job and my job loves me. It’s an opportunity to serve marginalized people again, to encourage frazzled and grumpy and lonely people, and to befriend coworkers I never would have met otherwise. We laugh and talk a lot (the circ desk is the loudest place you’ll find in our library. We don’t shush like we should). And…I’m surrounded by books. God had purpose.
I also know Jesus so, so, so much better. His presence has been real. His voice has been real. His Word has been alive. His faithfulness has been once again, and over and over again, proven. His provision of wise counsel and hold-you-up-when-you-can’t-stand prayers and sit-with-you-while-you-ugly-cry afternoons and hugs-that-wrap-you-in-love from my church sisters (and my biological sister) has been His here-on-earth lifeline.
When I wrote “Hurtin’ Hoopties”, more than one of the friends who shared their hurricane stories remarked that sanctification is not easy, but it is so worth it. Yeah, I’ve lived that now. And I understand that Jesus often makes a mess before He makes a miracle, cause I’ve seen it a bunch since that sunset season nearly two years ago.
God has purpose in all, all, all of this. It’s been a long, rough, stormy night since that sunset, and I don’t know when dawn will break, but as a friend told me long ago, paraphrasing Psalm 30, “I don’t know when your morning will come, butit will come. And there will be joy when it does.” I know Jesus has authority over wind and waves, and when to calm them.
This is the section of Scripture God gave me on one of the worst days ever in summer 2022, Scripture that is now forever imprinted on my soul and which served as the lighthouse for me in all of the storms. It’s on a framed print in my office now. It’s mine. I’ve lived it. I own it.
“But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob, And He who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”
Sunset isn’t a singular moment, but a series of them. You watch sunset as a process: first, the descent to the horizon, then the moment the sun slips below, then the remaining silent, sweet moments as the rays follow. Today is done; tomorrow will come.
I’m going through a sunset year. I knew, four years ago, that I would have the homeschool high school years alone with my youngest son, and that after that, the sun would set on this season of my life. And here we are: nine weeks until completion of his high school education and my 16 year journey of homeschooling. I watched the sun descend these past four years, treasuring the final few life-moments, relatively, of his childhood. He turned 18 last fall: sunset. Now, I watch those suspended moments of rays as they slip slowly below the horizon too. The fall of Rome in our history studies will echo the fall of the curtain on home education.
But those rays hold sunshine: such precious memories over these past nearly two decades of being at home with my guys, especially the youngest two who I have somehow, by God’s grace, taken from alphabets to diplomas. The rays are deep, rich, many-hued. There were hard days that felt like failure and frustration at the end of them, fantastic days where academic connections were made and character solidified, and thousands of just ordinary, get-the-work-done days. I am so grateful to have had this wonderful season. Treasure!
However, this sunset itself is multifaceted, because, to switch analogies for a quick minute, it is just the trigger to a domino cascade. This son graduates; homeschool years end; raising-four-sons ends; my identity shifts. He heads out into some uncertainty, but is loaded with some unique gifts we’re all confident God is gonna plug in; changes and discoveries ahead. Another son graduates community college; heads out of town to transfer to a university; our family’s first move-away-out-of-town; changes and discoveries for him. For the first time in 29 years, there will only be one son under this roof. Lastly, I’m heading back to work part-time; my first “first day of work” in 27 years in a field with which I am unfamiliar; changes and discoveries for me.
The sunset changes and discoveries all come with questions. Mine are—who am I when I am not “mom” and “teacher”? What do “I” want to do with the rest of my life? What have I put aside that I want to pick back up—are those still things significant to me after 32 years of parenting? Who I was then is not who I am now; some of those things are shallow, no longer hold appeal. I have some ideas, but need direction and confirmation. I know Jesus has it all mapped out, so I’m seeking, praying, reading, worshiping.
I guess I’ll hashtag the events of the next several sunset-rays months #chchchchchanges2022. Or maybe #sunsetsunrise, to switch around the melancholy but oh-so-full-of-truth iconic Fiddler on the Roof song. We will miss the warmth of the long season that has been this “day” in our family, but dawn will bring new sunshine, new joy, new hope, new seasons.
“While Peter thought about the vision, the Holy Spirit said to him…” Acts 10:19
While Peter thought….the Holy Spirit said.
Peter had just experienced a crazy vision while waiting for lunch. He wasn’t just loopy from being hungry, although maybe his stomach was growling. No, God had just shown him something, threefold, that made no sense to him; in fact, it went counter to his entire cultural experience. He was confused.
If that happened to me today, I’d probably reach for my phone to google “threefold confusing vision” and then get lost in 100 search results and end up who knows where on the internet. Or, maybe I’d Insta-story it and spend 10 minutes picking font and background and music to accompany it. Maybe I’d Facebook it too, editing my description a couple of times for grammar (I know, I know, the writer in me). But if I did any or all of that——I’d lose the punch of the moment. I’d miss what God was trying to communicate to me.
Maybe Peter would have done all of those things too if he’d had an iPhone or a laptop. After all, he was kind of well known for being impulsive. But he didn’t have those things, so he thought.
Do you remember thinking? I do. Sometimes I feel like it’s something I did in another lifetime. Sometimes I forget how it’s actually done: you know, just you. Alone. With your thoughts. Following them through. Musing. Pondering. Contemplating. Arriving at a thorough decision. I feel frustrated, often, that I start to consider a situation but am quickly diverted before giving it the attention that it needs. Then I draw a conclusion that I know isn’t complete…isn’t properly vetted. Sometimes, because God is gracious, those conclusions end up ok—but sometimes they are shown for not being given the attention they deserve.
But look at what happened when Peter thought: “the Holy Spirit said…” The Spirit told him that some people were going to arrive at the house and that he was to go with them. He did. Implied he was to trust that that next step would lead to the understanding he needed. It did: the exclusive ownership of Messiah by Jewish culture shattered as it became clear the gospel was now to go to the Gentiles. Then the crazy vision made total sense and Peter was able to see, afterward, that God had been preparing him for the thing beforehand. He could see his partnership in one of the biggest events in church history.
I suggest we think about how to best start thinking again. We don’t have to journey into the desert with a jug of water and loaf of bread, or trudge down a cliff onto an inaccessible stretch of shoreline (though I really do love sitting by the ocean while figuring things out). It means taking a walk without my headphones or doing my housework without a TV show on in the background. It means journaling my inner processing (must say, that has always been my forte) and tuning my social media waaaayyyy down. (Note: social media is probably the biggest force of opposition to just plain independent thinking, as well as the hugest distraction most of us face throughout each day). I suggest considering what in your days keeps you from having quiet time in your head and eliminate it so that you can perceive when the Holy Spirit speaks.
(On a related note: Church, in these clamorous, tumultuous times, we need to reclaim our alone time with the Lord. If we waited on the Holy Spirit to speak into Unprecedented Issues, how much of our division over the past 14 months could have been avoided? I submit that we have thought too little and flesh-spoken too much.)
The next time we are faced with a decision, an opinion we need to land in, a situation that confuses us—let’s just stop and wait on the Holy Spirit to ‘splain. What’s ahead may not be culture-shattering, but it will much more likely line up with God’s direction.
Recently I read a blog which asked readers to write a couple sentences about a sermon that dramatically sticks out in their head and why. Over years of attending church, I can think pretty quickly of hundreds of good messages I remember sitting in, and a handful that I will always remember. But I think because of the fact it was NOT at my home church, I remember one in particular; it really stands out for me. This morning I woke up with it again in my head and decided it was time.
Here’s the passage:
And when Jesus was in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him having an alabaster flask of very costly fragrant oil, and she poured it on His head as He sat at the table. But when His disciples saw it, they were indignant, saying, “Why this waste? For this fragrant oil might have been sold for much and given to the poor.”
But when Jesus was aware of it, He said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a good work for Me. For you have the poor with you always, but Me you do not have always.For in pouring this fragrant oil on My body, she did it for My burial. Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” Matthew 26:6-13
So the church I was visiting for this particularly memorable message was Edgewater Christian Fellowship in Grants Pass, Oregon. It’s the church we went to when we were visiting my brother and mom, an offshoot of Jon Courson’s Applegate Christian Fellowship. Homey, friendly, biblically sound, neat worship. At any rate, it was April 2012. The pastor (the worship pastor, actually, was teaching that day) pointed out something in the story I’d never seen before.
Here are the 12 apostles, those closest to Jesus, who spend every day with Him, who by now know He is Messiah, the Son of God, who have seen innumerable miracles at His hand–the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the dead raise to life–who look on Mary’s lavish expression of worship and snarl, “Why this WASTE?”
A waste. They were saying–these inner apostles–that Jesus wasn’t WORTH THAT.
Yet who knows what Mary had been delivered from? We don’t know much about her life before she met Jesus. We see her at His feet while Martha serves…and then in this passage we see her pouring out what represented her dowry, her hopes of finding a husband, in worship over His head. Her worship acknowledged the depth of her salvation and her recognition of His lordship over her life.
The pastor went on to talk about how many inside the church sometimes look on those who worship, or serve, or pray, or evangelize, or teach, or whatever, with lavish expression and say–“Ok, now that’s over the top. Tone it down a little. You’re a little too passionate about this. Why this WASTE of your (time, money, family, etc)?”
What they really are saying is, “He’s not WORTH THAT.”
And sadly, I realize I am sometimes guilty of this. Truth is, we all are.
Yet worship? is really WORTH-ship. Whatever your expression of it–whatever ministry you serve Him through, whether it’s a recognized church ministry or it’s praying for and reaching out to your coworkers or praying for and raising up your kids–however you express your gratitude to Jesus for saving you, that is showing Him how WORTH He is to you.
Even in actual corporate worship at church, we judge how others express their love for Him. Sure, there are times when my mind wanders a thousand places and I miss genuine connection. And then there are times, particularly during youth worship when the room is dark and I can sit somewhere by myself, curled up in my chair, tears running down my face, that I really WORTH-ship. But how often, for example, do we look at those who (pick something that bugs you) raise their hands, shout, pump their fists in the air, stand while the rest of us sit, whatever, and think–“Ok, now that’s over the top. They’re embarrassing themselves.” Can you hear the whisper beneath that? “He’s not WORTH THAT.” Maybe someone thinks that of me. Oh well. I know what I’ve been delivered from.
Interesting ending here–let’s go back to the 12 apostles. What did Judas do? Betray Him, with a kiss. What did they do when Jesus was arrested? Flee. What did Peter do? Deny Him, three times. Yes, Peter was restored and went on to lead the church. And together with Paul, these 11 turned the world upside down with the gospel. Their relationships with Jesus were genuine and full. But only John was there at the cross.
Oh, and Mary. She was there. Because He was worth it. And because of her relentless, lavish worth-ship her story has been told for 2000 years as a memorial.
I’m wife to one, mom to four, mother-in-law to two, grandma to one, sister, and friend. I’ve been a ballerina, psychiatric hospital worker, graduate student, case manager, program manager, stay-at-home mom, homeschooler, prayer team leader, and author. I am currently a library assistant by day and a certified biblical counselor, well–on other days!
As have we all, I’ve lived a lot of weirdness in this life, which 29 years ago I gave over unreservedly to Jesus. I navigate the life weirdness by the sure compass of the Bible, with the help of my husband, church, and friends.
As for that life weirdness: in the last few years I’ve navigated several what I call “lifequakes”: those events that happen without warning and pull the very floor out from under you.
Where has the Bible’s navigation and my human-people’s help led? Well, through loss. Sorrow. Anxiety. Fear. Frustration. Sleepless nights. Difficult days.
…To humility. Maturing faith. Growing trust in the One who’s sovereign and grace-ous and kind and strong and true. I “own”, rather than just “know” a whole bunch of verses in my core now; yeah, they’re mine now because they kept me in those long nights and sad days.
Because we live in a broken world, and because I’m sure there will be more lifequakes up ahead before we see Jesus face to face, my hope here on this site is to encourage you through your own life weirdness, through Bible devotions, musings about the church, helps from biblical counseling, and ponderings of my own personal life stuff.
That author part of me self-published two books. Learn more about them on my books page, or just go ahead and purchase them right now (grin) on Amazon, with links here and here.
Have you ever seen a movie in which, perhaps early on, one character warns another about the future? Perhaps it is regarding a choice he/she will face, or a relationship, or an event, but it usually seems unlikely. We can’t see how that could ever occur given what we know so far about the people in the movie. By the time the choice/relationship/event faces our character, the plot will have filled in all the pieces we could never have foreseen and we can see why that warning was so necessary. We’ve seen movies that roll out many variations on these plots, and we can never totally be sure how the warned character will opt when all comes to pass. But the warn-er, it’s clear, believes the warn-ee is capable of recognizing the situation when it appears and making the right choice. And one thing above all: the warn-er wants the warn-ee to win, to get it right, to avoid whatever bad would result from the wrong choice.
Friends, I would suggest we are living in a real-life rollout of the above. And yep, this is where I talk Scripture. Please don’t scroll and skip. Please. I really want us all to win from taking heed to the warnings before us.
The Old Testament is full full full of prophecies about the near and far future of those who are embedded in its pages. These are WAY beyond the scope of this ordinary blog post, but suffice to say God made it clear in these 39 books that not only would His Son come as Messiah to pay for the sin of the world, giving us opportunity for eternal relationship with Him, but that there would be a final day of judgment. Consider us warned.
The New Testament continues this conversation (the Bible is completely cohesive!) as Jesus proceeds, in the four gospels, to tell us more about “that day” than anyone else. He talks frankly about heaven, hell, and final judgment—at which time those who’ve refused Him will have no last-minute opportunity to say, “Oops! Sorry! Wait! I change my mind!” He makes it clear that He, as Savior, is the only way to heaven, then dies to pay our way and rises again to prove it. He returns to heaven but assures us He will be back—this time as Judge. Warned.
Jesus also tells us what the days that precede His coming will be like. Although scholars debate terms like premillennial, postmillennial, and etc—it’s clear that before He returns there will be a time of (I’d say “unprecedented,” but that word has been overused to nauseous cliche this year) stunning upheaval on the earth and in the skies. Before that, though, we will see what He calls “the beginning of birth pains”—conflicts among nations, earthquakes, famines, plagues. Warned.
Further on in the NT, Paul, Timothy, Peter, John, and Jude give us more information on what to look for in this “almost-to-the-end” season of planet Earth. They give us glimpses of false teachers nearly indistinguishable from others in our church flocks, “terrible times” of greed, disobedience, violence, blasphemy of the name of Jesus, lawlessness, counterfeit signs/wonders done by false prophets and ultimately the person called the anti-Christ. They tell us it will be absolutely critical in those days to hang on to the doctrines of the Bible, testing all things against its plumb line. Urge us to endure even in the face of all these events. Soberingly admonish us that not all who start this walk with Jesus will make it safely to the end, because many will fall prey to the lies and drift away to eventual destruction on that day He returns as Judge. Warned.
So we can WIN.
Hmmmmm.
I am far, far away from setting any times or dates—that is one hundred percent impossible per the very words of Jesus. But 1 Thessalonians 5 tells us that, because we have spiritual understanding as born-again believers, we will be able to tell when these signs pop up and point us to Jesus’ second coming and the eventual end of this world. And people—sisters, brothers—those signs are here.
The reason the word “unprecedented” has become a nauseous cliche is because, well, so many events of recent years and especially recent months can be described no other way. If you can, right now, hop onto any news site, read headlines, then hop back into this blog and tell me you don’t see occurrences that fall into the lists above…well…you can’t.
So here’s the point: if we are indeed seeing the times we’ve been warned about…this is the time to take heed. He may be days, months, or decades from splitting the skies and calling this thing done, but there’s no time like today to prepare for it. And just as Jesus and the rest of the gang told us what we would see as His judgment drew close, they also told us the only two possible outcomes of that judgment:
HEAVEN: for those who acknowledge Jesus as Savior (the only way into a relationship with God, because of His sinless life and atoning death on the cross), admit their sin, accept His forgiveness, and allow Him to be Lord of their entire lives. THIS IS THE WIN!
HELL: for those who refuse the above. I have stood at the gravesides of those who have lived their lives in this defiance and shuddered at what they began enduring the instant their souls departed their bodies.
For the record, there is no purgatory (the concept is never once addressed in Scripture. Check out Luke 16: 19-31, note v. 26).
No greasy grace.
No “when-I-hear-the-trumpet-I’ll-confess-my-sin.”
No “I don’t think God would send me to hell just because I ___________.”
No “a God of love would never hate anything.”
And note: just because you may not believe in God, doesn’t make any of this change. You may not believe in electricity, but that doesn’t make it not real. (Try not believing in the law of gravity—did you spend the day floating? Nope.)
Jesus is coming back, and we will all end up one of two places for all eternity.
Folks, we’ve been warned. And if you never heard any of this before and truly have been blithely clueless until you read this post, well, you’re warned now. The signs we’ve been told to look for are easy to find—a click away in uncensored video format, pretty much instantaneously, from anywhere in the world. Let’s not get caught up in the circumstances of them and miss the big picture to which they’re pointing. Let’s not miss it when the choice we’ve been warned about is right in front of our faces.
Life may feel like a drama most of the time these days, but I assure you it is not a movie. Our warnings are much more serious, and our choices eternal. God, the prophets, the apostles, and I—we all want you to WIN.
Just want Jesus 