When trusting God hurts....

Trust is a tough one, especially in the face of adversary, pain and loss. Disappointment will set a vendetta against that word trust unlike anything else. We get our hopes set on something circumstantial and when it doesn't come through the way we thought it would or should, we crumble in a heap of heart break. We also place the blame on those we hold responsible, particularly when it seems like something God should have "taken care of" and it doesn't look the way we had anticipated it to look if he were, indeed involved and in control. I dealt with a few of those things this morning, a dear friend of mine sent me a text as she sat in the waiting room of a doctor's office, overwhelmed by fear that she would miscarry, for a second time, a baby she very much wanted- and she had. My daughter much to my surprise and her dismay was placed in third grade to repeat instead of moving on to the fourth grade. Don't get me wrong, I am not comparing miscarriage and repeating the third grade, but what I am putting in the same category is very real heart break and devastating disappointment- both to my 9 year old daughter and my sweet friend in her twenties. The truth of it is that no matter our age or which end of the spectrum of pain the events of lives fall under, each person's pain is very real. Each person's pain forms into the  question, "Why?". So, where do we go from this point? There is no answer in the midst of devastation that will alleviate the pain. We've all heard, or probably even half- heartedly said the obligatory, "God knows what He is doing." But how deeply do we believe this, when hearing it or when saying it? What comfort is it to believe that God is the creator and sustainer of life yet allows miscarriages every day? Sometimes we think we should rise above the pain of our situation and suffer well, translating that to mean we ignore the hurt altogether. Sometimes we try to purpose our pain, participating in a proverbial game of tetris with all of our disadvantages, disappointments and devastations, purposing that if we will situate all of our hurts just right we can fashion a meaningful end to all of it. I think I have found that sometimes things just hurt, they just do and hurting isn't wrong. I've found that I may not have a choice in the matter that allows me to exercise the control freak within and put my hands all over something to fix it, or to alleviate someone's pain. I've found that it's not always my place to explain away and justify the reasons that something bad or hurtful happened. I've found that I AM NOT JESUS. I AM NOT THE CREATOR AND SUSTAINER OF LIFE. I AM NOT THE GOD OF THE UNIVERSE WHO HOLDS EVERYTHING TOGETHER. It is not my job to spout off every verse I can think of to try to cushion the blow, or to pour liquid sunshine in the wound and Pollyanna my way through life insisting on playing the glad game with every suck situation I see someone in. Sometimes life just hurts and it's hard and the only choice I have in the matter is to weep with those that weep, to mourn with those that mourn. To pray with all my heart that this person will find that God is trustworthy and faithful, that He is sovereign and that while it seems harsh that God CAN prevent things that for reasons far beyond my understanding he chooses not to, He is still GOOD. I have to choose to rest in the truth that God knew Riann would end up repeating third grade and Jocelyn would move on to the fifth grade, and while she has spent the last several days crying and struggling through it, and I've spent the last week wrestling with insisting on them moving her forward any ways that I ultimately believe God has a plan and only he knows how he will use this in her life. We've gotten through losing her father, we will get through repeating third grade, but it may not be painless, or without frustration. I've had to accept that it isn't our responsibility or place to put purpose to our pain or anyone else's pain, it's God's and only he is able to make the transaction of beauty for ashes. I have realized that while in the midst of hardship myself, or seeing someone in the midst of their's I can only trust the Lord to love them as deeply as he loves me, to be as faithful to them as he has been to me, and to walk side by side with them as they work through all of the tough, all of the ugly, and to touch sacred places in them that only he can get to. The misconception that trusting God makes things hurt less or makes everything go right, the way we want them to, is a fraudulent representation of the gospel. Life would still hurt, whether I had Jesus or not, the difference is that in the midst of suffering I can believe that he is already orchestrating things that I am not privy to, to ultimately work things out for my good and for his glory.

Sometimes I say the "F" word.....

 Galatians 1:24 "And they glorified God because of me." 

         For most of you who are mothers and wives that are not of the Super Human DNA type, you can relate to those days, or weeks, or even months, that just turn out to be one of "those" moments in your life you refer to as "seasons" in hopes that you will convince yourself to grace through because surely it can't last forever. The ol' "This too shall pass" ointment meant to soothe the raw wear of life on your heart. I will preface the rest of this blog by saying, I'm about to hemorrhage all over the place, so brace yourselves. I do so, not because I am breeching the edge of a proverbial cliff and can no longer contain emotional stability, although I do have those encounters with myself, this is not one of those times. I am writing because I know being a woman is difficult. Being a mother is difficult. Being a wife is difficult. Being a Christian is difficult. Existing on this planet, in this life, attempting to fulfill whatever role you are in is DIFFICULT. And doing so while camouflaging all the ugly that our flesh and this broken world produces is damn near impossible. I said a cuss word. Because sometimes, I do. I have managed, through a lot of grace and perseverance from Jesus to participate with the self control that the Holy Spirit heaps out in great measure on my account, to rid our lives of the Hulk-esque transformations that used to make an appearance. But, occasionally, I say the "F" word. I don't say it to my children, I don't say it in the presence of my children and sometimes it's an exasperated, broken "F" word in my head. But it's there. Why all the bombs?, you ask. Because I am not perfect. I am not, by any means advocating 'cussing', or whatever that less-than-Christ-like behavior that occasionally makes an appearance in your life is, but I am saying I would be a liar and a hypocrite to pretend I don't have ugly that hangs out some times. I used to think being a Christian was about sucking in all my fat. Strapping on my spiritual girdle and prancing around with my shiny new penny look. Some of you get what I'm saying, and some of you don't. That's ok. This is for those who have struggled through the pretending to find the real thing in Jesus that you couldn't quite explain was missing. This is for every mother who has wondered what was wrong with her because no sleep and heaps of dishes and laundry didn't hurl her into a joyful tizzy.
    The past month has been a hum-dinger for me. Without exposing too many other people's hardships, as most of you know Cory and I are in process of gaining temporary custody of my two nephews and niece. You heard me right, and you probably, hopefully, added that up correctly. Seven kids. I know. To up the ante, they are all under the age of 5. Everyone thinks this is a crazy idea, WE even think this is a crazy idea. In fact some people are probably secretly waiting for me to fall flat on my face in this, you know, in a concerned, love-of-Jesus sort of way where they're just so worried about you because they can't wrap their minds around such a radical display of obedience and love. And that's ok, too, I've had to work through a lot of 'letting it go', thank you Frozen.  This entire ordeal has caused as you can imagine, some strains in personal relationships. Some disapproval. Some disappointment. Some unforeseen costs, externally and internally. My own children are responding to the weight of such a huge decision in their own ways, which are inevitably adding a dysfunction to our house hold. Everything is pretty disheveled at the moment.
        I am unsure of a lot of things. BUT I am certain of some things, and those things matter so much more than the pressure, pain, sweat, blood and tears of walking this out. GOD HAS NOT LEFT ME ALONE IN THIS. GOD HAS CALLED ME TO THIS. GOD HAS GONE AHEAD BEFORE ME. HE IS WORKING ALL OF THIS, EVEN THE HARD STUFF, FOR MY BENEFIT AND FOR HIS GLORY.  Galatians 1:10 says, " For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ." The reference to pleasing man also refers to pleasing myself. My life always looks absurd to many people on the outside, sheesh, it looks impossible to me most days. I used to have these grandiose imaginations of my serving God in foreign countries, hugging on babies in remote villages, speaking with passion and eloquence on stage in front of thousands of women, teaching Bible studies, heading up women's groups or young adults' going ons. I have learned, at times, painstakingly that my mission field is right here. It's being the absolute clearest view of Jesus to my children, of the Grace of Jesus to the doubters, neigh-sayers, and fellow-strugglers, and of a beacon of joy, light and hope to the darkness in the world around me and to the darkness I come across that's within me at times. Sure, I say the "F" word (gasp), and Jesus loves me any ways, he doesn't bat an eye at my ugly. It doesn't shock him or deter him in the least now that I've laid my spiritual girdle down and don't bother trying to suck it up and suck it in. We bleed, sweat, cry and work it out together. Paul talks about beating our flesh into submission. Oh boy, is it a beating some days! But Romans says where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. Beautiful, precious, amazing GRACE. Despite all my efforts, desires, failures, victories, pains, sacrifices, poor character, and intentions gone awry, I truly have only one desire, may others see me and glorify God because of me. This realization reels me back in, keeps me anchored, may I ever keep my eyes on Jesus. How I love him.
        In summation, if you can relate to this, congratulations, you're alive and you're human, and you see your need for the Savior that gave himself for you. The victory over this life is already at hand, hidden in Christ. Does that mean that you get one of those obnoxious Flash passes Six Flags offers to bypass the waiting, the heat, the pain, the reality, no, of course not because until you leave this planet you're subject to its brokenness. The victory in Christ means you endure this life with hope, joy, purpose in your pain and loss, and that the glory to God to come far exceeds any cost you endure in this life. Be encouraged, friend.

When no one draws the line to being online.....

It occurs to me, my house is all too silent, as I look up from whatever it is I am doing, I notice all four of my kids are sitting on the coach with the television on, staring at their iPod touches. I am annoyed. "Ok," I say as I click the t.v. off, "everyone give me your iPod." Sighs, grunts, and even a fit later, I have collected all the technological nemeses in the house. I have resolved that while technology is very beneficial in many ways it has also become the antagonist of childhood. We just bought our daughters (8 and 9 years of age) a cell phone, I know, we are those parents. Hear me out, we have no house phone and have begun the rat race of extra-curricular activities, it will at times be necessary for me to get ahold of them and vice-versa. It will only have basic functions, texting and calling, and will be in my possession 90% of the time, with very invasive attention to how it is used and to whom they are talking to. No boys, limited conversation time and no over night usage. Now that I feel adequately justified in being one of those parents, I will say this, it's a constant conflict. We realize that being technologically in the know is just part of being raised in 2014, however, we don't want to raise those kids, after all, we survived just fine playing outside and waiting until the next day to communicate with our friends at school (face to face, I might add.)
I believe that as a society we have allowed it to impair us, not only as relational human beings, but especially as parents. We were not raised with the constant distraction of screens being shoved in our faces, the glorious convenience and very real danger of having the entire cyber world at our finger tips, and are, ourselves, so mesmerized by it we have grown ignorant and lazy when it comes to our babies and their devices. My two year old started coming up to me and pushing my arm, phone in hand, insisting, "Phone. Down." I thought it was amusing for a second until utter conviction flooded me. We teach our children what is important. Why do our 18 month old children know how, to our amazement. unlock our iPhone and flip through our myriad of apps to locate their's? Why do they sit silent and entertained staring at shows, playing games, and giving us a moment of peace? "Well, they're learning!", we say. It IS, indeed incredible how quickly these little sponges of curiosity mimic and repeat for themselves our behavior. They ARE learning, but what, exactly are they learning, and at what cost? The art of losing yourself in hours of outside, imaginative play is a dying one. It's too hot, it's too cold, they need a drink, they want to take a break?? Really!? Take a break from playing? We have singlehandedly raised a generation of convenience and comfort gluttons.
I can't tell you how many conversations I've had on Facebook with people I never see in person. While it's nice at times to connect with social media, I've watched it become an ever increasing outlet for validation seeking, drama, cruelty, humiliation and not only escaping, but denying reality. I find myself, at times, while watching t.v.,  laying in bed, playing with the kids, running errands or in the car almost subconsciously, habitually checking my phone- Facebook, email, those little numbers that pop up on your apps, etc. etc., you name it. We have forgotten how to rest, how to be in the moment that we are in. We have forgotten how to have verbal conversations and relate to people who are right in front of us. Any given time a room full of us are together, I can't even count how many times we are half-heartedly nodding at the person in front of us while staring at our phones. It isn't even socially frowned upon any more to make a few minutes worth of eye contact during a visit and cut a person off to text someone else. How often do we put our phones down and connect with the cashier at the grocery store? Seriously, it's gotten out of hand.
Rather than calling people we haven't seen in months, maybe even years, to invite them over to catch up, it's become the cultural norm for all of us to have a degree in on-line stalking. How creepy. My ten year high school reunion was in October and none of us even had to fill one another in on our lives, we all knew each other's business like we were neighbors. Somewhere along the way, innocently and unintentionally I'm sure, in the frenzy of posting photos every five seconds of our lives and everyone in them we have lost the value of moments that are significant, private, shared only with the few people who happen to be present and capture it themselves. Things have become less personal. Sadly, at times for a good laugh, we exploit our children, our spouses, even the overweight person in front of us in a grocery line. We not only cease the moment to bully our loved ones, but perfect strangers, as well. The sarcasm and satire all of us can relate to has no filter on social media sites. Our abuse and careless engagement of technology has created generations of irresponsible cowards, in my opinion. An entire society that doesn't understand the cost of our actions, our words, and the way they affect other people. We've also given license for anyone, any where to say anything about anyone. The lack of reverence and respect for people in general, for our elders, for children, for spouses, for our places of employment is disheartening at the least. Social media has also done some wonderful things, kept me in touch with wonderful people, allowed me a place to support and encourage others and talk with people that offer me the same encouragement, but I see it as being more of a distraction than a benefit. If anyone of the people I speak with or maybe even haven't spoken to yet, would like to be friends... in real life, please never hesitate to reach out to me.

A woman....

I have thought much about, and continue to think on it the older I get, and the older my children get, on what exactly being a woman is, what I want it to look like when my own daughters assume the task, and what I want to form in consideration in the minds and hearts of my sons when choosing a wife.

 I believe it was last summer, or maybe even the one before, when my Cory and I decided that we would not be allowing our daughters to wear two piece bathing suits that did not cover their stomachs, such as tankinis do. No bikinis. One of the first summers we were together Riann called her bathing suit a 'babe-in-suit', laughing, Cory said, "Not right now but one day it will be." We both laughed but then heavily considered the truth of the matter. One day they would be older, more developed and likely, very attractive young women. That must of sent a sort of shutter through us both, because soon after we vetoed two pieces. The mindset behind it being that we didn't want to raise them feeling too comfortable exposing too much of their bodies. The same goes for the rest of their wardrobe. Tummies must be covered, bottoms must be covered. This summer is the first I have not either been pregnant or favoring a whale, due to just having had a baby. As the girls and I discussed, per the usual swim suit selection season, Jocelyn said, "Well, are you going to wear a one piece?" Touche. She was right, how could I expect them to feel confidently modest, yet stylish in a one piece if I did not lead by example. I took to finding a cute one piece, and thank goodness, succeeded. 

A woman, among many things, is modest. She understands that her body is sacred, valuable, precious and private. It belongs to her, to God, and is entrusted as such for safe keeping until it is given to her husband. 

Jesus...the King?

As I am, yes, washing dishes something occurs to me, Jesus died to be my savior but rose again to be King. I realize He isn't always Lord of my life. I have accepted Him as savior, yet not as Lord. When I feel like I am missing out on the 'abundant life' He promises it's always because I have yet, again, taken the throne. By doing so I reject the eternal and abundant life He provides in His resurrection. That day Jesus is not living in me. I am living in me. A zombie Lori has taken over. I was thinking about Jesus being evident in me. He says we will be known as His by our love. It's easy to love orphaned children in Haiti. It's easy to love the homeless man under the tree in the Walmart parking lot. It's easy to love the single mother with four daughters next door. It's easy to love my children..... when they are sleeping. It's easy to love my husband..... when he is away. What about when the opportunities to love intimately are shoved in my face?? Those who know me better than anyone know Lori in and of herself is a very ugly person. By God's grace and the love of Jesus that transcends flesh and humanity they are able to love me despite my horribleness and look to the future hope of Jesus being glorified in me. It's not easy to love people that you don't like. It's definitely not our first, or even second choice BUT this is where that de-throning action takes place. I have to let God's grace and the love of Jesus that is crazy about said person supersede my knowing their flesh by my flesh. I am so curious because yesterday I was in tears all day over two children in Haiti that I was gathering supplies for to send to them in a love package, longing to hug them and communicate the father's heart full of love to them, but today I find myself disdainfully rushing my children through the motions of dinner, homework, bed prep, etc. so that I can get them out of my hair. Maybe I am the only horrible person out there who finds it difficult to be loving to those closest to me, but just in case I am not, I confess, my heart of compassion and patience abounds towards people I hardly know but when it comes down to really being 1Corinthians 13 to my home dwellers: it seems impossible. It comes so unnaturally to me to love and to be loving, perhaps even to be lovable. I know that it's imperative that I allow Jesus to be King in my life, yet time and time again my ugly flesh just plops itself right in that seat wearing the crown. Lord, I don't want to be so arrogant, so disobedient that I strut around wearing a crown that is only suited for your precious head. I want to love with your heart. I know you feel about my children the same way you feel about the children in Haiti that I allow myself to be so broken over. Your heart, your love is not selective. Forgive me for being as such with it.

Dirty Dishes

There are six of us in our home, when Cory isn't gone. When he is gone, there are four kids to one me, three of which are able to dirty dishes themselves, or at least aid one another in dirtying them. They often pile up and at any given time a visitor will be witness to our dirty dishes in the sink. I also put off doing dishes until absolutely necessary because it is so repetitive and seems to be a revolving door of work.
I will tell you here, my in-laws have an incredible house keeper. She has come to our house several times over the past few years, during both pregnancies with the boys and for short periods afterwards. After her visits our house quickly reverts back to the chaotic disaster that I am coming to understand probably won't get much better for many years to come. I've got several kids and the house is messy. It's just the way it is and no amount of neurotic obsessing over it is going to change that fact. However, still when messes would begin to pile up and I would feel the tension in the back of my neck I would consider, much to my relief that 'tomorrow' Felicitas was coming to help.
I was thinking about this as I had a stack of dishes that I was making my way through earlier. On bottom were the silverware, the cups, the small bowls. On top were the cups and larger bowls used for mixing or popcorn. You get the point. I quickly washed and rinsed the larger bowls and set them out of the way to dry so I could get to the smaller ones in the water, at the bottom of the sink. I like getting the larger ones out of the way first because of the visual clutter. It helps me feel like I'm making progress. My silverware, I'll confess 9 out of 10 times has peanut butter or oat meal resting on it, which has usually hung out long enough to dry and get a little stubborn come wash time. Gross, I know. Surprisingly, I find myself time and again frustrated with the fact that the dishes become dirty, AGAIN. Now, it's silly of me to expect that just because I wash the dishes they won't become dirty again, in fact, the whole point of me cleaning them is so someone can eat or drink off of them.
I have been in such an odd, frustrating state for the past month and can find no logical explanation for the sudden change in attitude, mindset and spiritual climate. I rehearse conversations with God in my head, over and over again, often complaining and sharing my obvious confusion, frustration and desperation.
My emotional, spiritual, and psychological state has been much like my dirty dishes that pile up in our sink. I realized how so many times, the 'big' things that the Lord has dealt with in my life only cleared the way to get to the small things that needed to be cleaned with more care, more attention. Jesus has had to wash my dishes countless times. I find myself in dismay each time He has to wash them again, it seems as though when I am in a state that permits me to 'feed' or pour out I expect not to be dirtied again. I learn and re-learn that walking out my relationship with Him was not a one time commitment at an altar with a little prayer. I didn't just need Him to clean up my mess one time, but I need Him to clean up my mess every day, several messes several times a day. What Jesus did on the cross WAS a one time deal that completed all things in Himself. Does that mean I'll never need to be washed in His blood again? No, it means that I'm a mess, a sink full of dirty dishes over and over again and I can rest in the fact that my house keeper is on His way, never altering or faltering. Guaranteed that every time I open the door to Him He will come in and clean up the mess I am.

Mutiny against excess?

I love to read, but I have to read something that effects me. I have to be challenged, stirred, compelled by what I read. I am sitting here with my 'child's training Bible' supplies, accompanied by "The Explicit Gospel" and "not mere words" strewn out across my bed, ordering another book on Amazon, "7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess"....... while echos of the words of transition for me, starting with "Blue Like Jazz", "Searching for God Knows What", "Crazy Love", "Forgotten God", "Radical", and "Broken Walls" haunt my all too comfortable assumption of what exactly the Gospel is, I let the words resound in my thoughts, ".... Mutiny against excess." My immediate retaliation to this harsh sentence is, "but I like the excess." 

My thoughts reel to my closet, a few feet from me and I number the excess in my head. Close to 50. 50. Pairs. Of. Shoes. Honestly, oh boy do I like the excess! Let me continue to expound on this romance between the excess and myself. I keep two to three purses in my car, always. A black one, a brown one and a wild card, just to keep things interesting. It rides in my front seat. I like to match. I also own around 50 different dresses. All sorts. I am excessive. Our family owns 7 ipods, not including our iPhones that double as iPods. iPod ouchess, nanos, whatever that other one is. I like the excess. No, as I say that, the pit of my stomach rolls. I LOVE the excess. There is a line in a song, " And we're waiting but our eyes are wandering To all this earth holds dear Look at all the pretty things That steal my heart away 

I can feel I'm fading 'Cause Lord I love so many things That keep me from Your face Come and save me." 
Ouch. 
I would like to say I am not attached to these things of the world, but I am. I LOVE Jesus. But I also love shoes. I love good food. I love nice things. I love Starbucks. I love  my iPhone. I love things, you guys. This doesn't sound as dirty as it feels in my heart. Don't get me wrong, I have no second thought about giving things that I have away or handing money to perfect strangers- as  a matter of fact, it is one of my greatest joys. I love blessing people. It's unlike anything I do. But I am talking about me and my things. Some of you will think, there is nothing wrong with enjoying things. There isn't, at all. But if I am perfectly honest with myself before the Holy Spirit I know these things still mean so much more to me than they should. I am still sharing the place in my heart that belongs completely to the most high God, alone with something manufactured and mass produced. I am a silly, simple being. 
I still can't excuse myself from loving the Lord and the ways, the words of the Lord more than the things of this earth. I tell myself all the time that I say I believe what the Bible says, and try to behave as though I do, yet I know the deep caverns of my heart that are stored up with love and desire for things of this earth. I am referring, even, to the music and entertainment I am willing to subject the Holy Spirit in me to. I do believe the deeper into this whole Jesus-walk I get that when He said, You can't be lovers of the world and lovers of God He meant it. I feel the velcro- tear effect inside myself every day. 

When He said,

 "You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, 

a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." He meant it. When He said,  "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you..." He meant it. We are HIS. We are set apart. We are appointed to be different. We are to love different things than the world does. Do we have to sell all of our possessions and live on a plantation with everyone we are related to and use horse drawn carts. I don't know. If the Lord calls you to it, then yes. But I do know this, I am to love the Lord, my God with all of my heart, all of my mind, and all of my strength and all of my soul.... which is not so coincidentally followed by loving my neighbor as myself. If loving my neighbor as myself means letting go of the excess to provide for them what they need, then yes- let go of the excess. Sacrifice. Forsake yourself. The temptation to calculate how much money we would have in excess for frivolous things if we did NOT tithe and give faithfully in the areas that the Lord has led us to give in is never too far away, but we have established that all we have is the Lord's. We are only stewards of it. Here is my challenge to you- let the Lord highlight the excess and instruct you in what ways you are to love your 'neighbors' as yourselves by releasing the places in your heart that you hold the things of this world dear and by loving him with all of your heart, all of your mind....and all of your possessions. I have to ask, how often do our possessions possess us? In an economy where nearly all of us are in debt, at the very least paying a mortgage, a vehicle payment, etc., are we not enslaved by the things we own? Our HEARTS can only afford to be and must be enslaved to the only good master, who is loving and good enough to supernaturally transpose us from slaves to co-heirs.