Would You Rather--Tend a Grave or Hold a Spider?

These guys?

I am fascinated by insects. Yes, I like them. They are interesting to watch, amazingly varied, and just plain cool. You know the odd thing, though? Add two legs and subtract one body segment, and what does that make an insect?

A spider.

They are awesome.

And they are decidedly not cool.

I cannot explain this.

All I know is, there is family lore about me involving a bathtub, multiple shoes, and one large spider. Also another involving me and a spider on the shower wall and a subsequent non-family-friendly dash through the house, but that is another story . . .

I do not like spiders. I used to hyperventilate going down the aisle in Petco where I know they are kept. Actually looking in the aquarium would have required an EMT situation.

So what, oh what, could have ever inspired the picture below? (Warning—graphic picture below. No, not of the shower dash. Worse.)

A refusal to give in to fear.

Not. So. Much.

I know I've told the tarantula story before, and some of you have read it. But there's more. We need to know the power of fear to take our identity from us and keep us from moving toward growth.

We fear too many things that steal our identity.

I forced myself to stop in front of the tarantula cage one day and allow that nice young man to put a spider in my hand because I knew my fear would hold me back from being what God wanted me to be. It sounds silly, I know, to say that fear of spiders can get in the way of being used by God. But whenever fear, whatever the fear, controls your choices, it blocks who you were made to be.

In this case, it would control my choice to lead a team to Costa Rica to minister. In the middle of convincing other team members to cast off their fears and go for the trip, I had to face mine or be a hypocrite. After all, they grow some big spiders in Costa Rica. (I never actually saw one in two weeks there. Only a hole where the tour guide told us we could see one if we looked. I did look. I didn't see.)

The older I get and the more I go through, the more I am adamant – I do not want to give control over to anyone but God. Certainly not an eight-legged critter with a brain the size of . . . I don't know . . . do spiders have brains? Conventional ones? No clue. But I do know they have to be smaller than human brains, based on fundamental laws of physics.

“Get on with your new life. God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go! This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike 'What’s next, Papa?' God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children.” (Romans 8.14-15, The Message)

What do grave tenders do? They make graves neat and lovely. They ensure pretty, clean plots. Over dead things. Past things. Things with no life and no future. I don't want to be a tender of dead things. I want to live adventurously expectant.

So why don't we? Why don't we feel like we are created for incredible purpose? Why don't we wake up every morning asking, “What's next, God?” Why don't we expect wonder?

Because we fear. Rather than jump into our days, we dread them. We look at our lists and groan. We plan our next escape. We're terribly afraid to step into identity as those children of God, because it might mean risk, conflict, change. We may dread mornings, but at least we know them. Being God's representative – Stepping into our identity as His children and taking on whatever that means? That's a scary unknown. It could involve things I'm not ready to give up, risks not I'm ready to take, changing values and ideas I'm not ready to reexamine.

Look what I might have missed in Costa Rica?

It could involve holding that spider. And we hyperventilate at the thought.

Sadly, I could not get over fear of spiders by thinking about them. Pondering their purpose. Looking at photos of them. I just had to jump in and face that stupid fear head on. It's the only thing that works. And it's in doing that we realize the anticipation was far worse than the actual execution.

We're more afraid to start than to follow through. So just start.

Observer or Participant?

Jesus said, “My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.” In is fullest definition, “rich and satisfying” means “over and above, more than is necessary, exceedingly, abundantly, supremely, extraordinary, surpassing, uncommon, beyond imagination.”

Wow. That's a whole lot of satisfying.

So the question as we work through Lent and prepare to jump into the power of Easter is: Do we want to observe an extraordinary, uncommon, abundant life--or do we want to participate in one?

If the latter, how are you being a timid grave tender today? How are you listening to voices that steal your identity by telling you to be less than extraordinary? (Extraordinary is not, by the way, always newsworthy and show stopping. Extraordinary is simply getting yourself off center stage and looking for all kinds of ways to love like Jesus loved.)

God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!

Multiple Pesonalities

One of the interesting things I've read in all my study of the Millennial generation is the idea that they can comfortably live with multiple personalities. You can be one person with friends, one on Facebook, and another at work or at home. Personality is fluid, and one adapts to one's surroundings. Like being a human chameleon. I have to admit, it's one aspect of the generation I do not understand. I'm trying.

One thing I know, however, is that doing this in one's spiritual life is not confined to any generation. It's too often the default in Christian life.

I'll be a Christian at church.But at work? Well, there are decisions that have to be made there. Sometimes they can't be made with all that love and honesty stuff. That's real life.

With friends? I try, but sometimes, they need me to go along. Do what they want to do. Agree with what they believe. It makes everyone happier.

In politics? Hey, I know Jesus said to love my neighbor. But I have to protect myself. And I have a right to say what I want to say, regardless of those other idiots.

Problem: 

So God created mankind in his own image,

    in the image of God he created them;

    male and female he created them. (Genesis 1.27)

If I am created in the image of God, that's who I am at my core. Portraying that image full time was put into my being from the beginning of the universe. It's what was placed in my heart as my purpose for existing. If I'm trying to do that gig part time? No wonder I'm confused.

It's like trying to split an atom. We all know what happens when matter is split at its very core. Explosion. Big explosion.

Why do we think it will be any different when we try to split our being into “here I'll be God's person” and “here I'll be something else”?

If I'm fighting who I am at my core, no wonder I can't commit to being or doing anything long term. No wonder I can't reach, or even figure out, my goals. No wonder I have no idea what I truly want. I have tried to take apart who I am. And what I'm left with is a messy explosion.

Part Time Identity?

Imagine telling my daughters, “You know, I'm just not feeling the mom thing today. Can I take a break from that and maybe come back sometime later?” Now, I know that occasionally, all moms want to do that. But however we are tempted, it will not change the facts. We are moms. We will still have that relationship, even if we check out of it. It will be really messed up, but it will still be true.

We can't show up to work as we feel the spirit. We can't be someone's child every other Tuesday. We can't be a real friend only after 8pm.

We can't be a real image of God because we press 'like' and 'share' for a picture of Jesus, then go back to gossiping about or downright insulting other people.

We need to be whole people. Only whole people really know who they are. Only whole people can sleep at night without the restless conflict of knowing they were not who they believed themselves to be that day.

Not that we are always what we want to be. There are cringeworthy moments in everyone's day. But when we seek to be one, whole person in all situations? We're a lot more likely to act consistently. It's just easier. Less to remember, which, for me, is a huge incentive right there.

Who Am I?

Image of God. 

Ambassador of God. 

Friend of God. 

Child of God. 

I am all those things. Trying to be some of those things some of the time? Big, explosive mess.

Trying, however imperfectly and slowly, to be that in all places, with all people, at all times? Big, cool breeze of relief. The pieces come together. The purpose appears clearer. When we're being who we were meant to be, through and through from our core out, that's peace.  [tweet this]. 

Peace or pieces? I know what I choose.

Historical Fiction without All the Calories

Hello and welcome to an uncharacteristic Friday post!

I am privileged to be a part of the launch team for a powerful new novel that you might want to hear about. 

I rarely read fiction. Most of you know by now that I'm a theology/sociology sort of girl here with a dash (OK, a huge bowl full) of Tolkien and Austen thrown in there for fun.But I read this one -- and stayed up far too late for this lady two nights in a row. That's when you know a novel's got me.

Mercy's Rain is tough stuff. It is not your standard Christian fluff novel. And for that, I am thankful.  I said "without the calories" because of the absence of empty sweetness. It is sweet -- in the sense that truth and love always win -- but not in the sense that they win effortlessly.

Mercy has suffered unspeakable abuse, and her story doesn't sugar coat it. It does, however, offer hope for healing. Cindy Sproles tackles terrible circumstances and barefaced evil without flinching. I appreciate her willingness to look hard at issues most of us avoid.

I love that Cindy fearlessly deals with issues that were real then (it's historical fiction) and are still so very real today. I love that she admits they exist in the church and that there is where we need the courage to stand against evil of our own. It's a raw honesty that rarely exists in Christian fiction, and I find it refreshing and releasing for those who, like Mercy, live in great pain. The path Mercy takes is also honest--broken, difficult, back and forth, and victorious in the end. 

It's perfect that she tells it in first person, as the reader gets the real sense of what she thinks and feels, something that could never come through as well in another voice. The author portrays both the evil and the atmosphere of redemptive love in this book clearly and believably. A debut novel worth a follow up!

You can find Mercy's Rain here. 

And more about its author here. 

Going Backward: Getting Our Identity By Doing Instead of Being

I took up the clarinet in 5^th grade. My parents probably wished I hadn't. I did want to learn—really. But how many times can you play “I Love You Truly” in the expected half hour practice before you start to get a little . . . creative? Or a lot bored.

I don't remember the teacher at all. I don't even know if it was a man or a woman. Clearly, I was not inspired. As a result, I was also not very good.

Enter 6^th grade and Mr. Leafblad. I don't remember him ever telling me my playing stunk. (It did.) I don't recall being bullied, or patronizingly cajoled, or shamed into practicing. I do remember practicing. He had such enthusiasm for leading us. (How anyone manages that in a junior high band I will never, ever comprehend.) He had endless encouragement that I could get better. And I did. In fact, I got to be the best clarinet player in junior high.

I became what I was meant to be, a much better player, because the one in charge accepted me as I was, encouraged me, and saw me as a whole human, not a kid with a clarinet I did, or did not, practice often enough. The desire to do the right thing grew out of love for the person asking it of me.

One of the biggest mistakes we make in trying to figure out our identity in God is to do things that make us acceptable. We hope beyond hope that in doing things we can figure out who we are.

We do too many things that offer us identity.

It worked in school. We figured out early where we fit in. We became the smart one, or the good one. Maybe you were the funny one, the pretty one, the social butterfly, or even the victim. Regardless, we learned that if we kept doing the things that made us whatever we were (getting straight A's, cracking jokes in class) we had an identity. We were secure.

I spent years proving I deserved my spot in the universe by being the smart one. If I dared let it slip, if (when) I found someone smarter than I was, I would have no idea who I was. It was terrifying.

Don't we do that in church, too? Don't we often—usually--approach God that way?

I'll obey God's rules. I'll go do that service project. I'll come to church, take communion, even go all out and volunteer for children's church. If I do all these good things for God, I'll be a good person. That means I'll know who I am. God will accept me.

You want to know something crazy? Jesus doesn't call me or you to be a good person. Jesus calls us to be His person.  [tweet this].To get our identity from belonging to him, not from doing good things. 

Mind. Blown.

We do this thing backward.

Once we know who we are because of who He is and what He already calls us, we will want to do good things out of pure love and gratitude. When we try to reverse that? Try to obey in order to force-feel acceptance? We get so messed up.

People who try to do this identity thing backward are the ones you meet who are always right. They know what is and is not “approved.” No one else can do it right. Everyone else is a little bit wrong. They are Never. Satisfied. Why? Because we only know who we are--we only feel accepted ourselves--if we're better at doing good, being good, or toeing line of truth closer than the other guy. If we have to admit we don't know, that the lines may be more fuzzy than we thought, then we are no longer the best at doing, thinking, and being right. We don't know who we are.

People who try to do this identity thing backward also become addicted to approval, doing more and more and more, until they burn out. How many of those have we seen? How many have we been? I see that hand. I raised that hand.

There is another way.

Go the right direction. Take our identity from God, freely given, first. We are chosen, beloved, accepted, known, adopted, and so much more. Then, move into obedience. Let the love for the Great Encourager be the motivator to be what we were meant to be. Not the fear that we'll let Him down.

“For God in all his fullness was pleased to live in Christ,

and through him God reconciled everything to himself.

He made peace with everything in heaven and on earth 

by means of Christ’s blood on the cross.

This includes you who were once far away from God. You were his enemies, 

separated from him by your evil thoughts and actions. 

Yet now he has reconciled you to himself through the death of Christ in his physical body. 

As a result, he has brought you into his own presence, 

and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault. 

But you must continue to believe this truth and stand firmly in it. 

Don’t drift away from the assurance you received when you heard the Good News.” (Colossians 1.19-23)

God is not that teacher who won't ever give the A. He's not the boot camp sergeant. He's the one who sees you as what you will be--without fault. Do you really want a label? Try the ones mentioned above: Blameless. Loved. Reconciled. Friend of God. (Because if you're no longer an enemy, you're a friend.)

I'll never get my identity from doing things. Things are things. They can't offer anything to my soul. Only a person can do that. The Person—the one who asks us to follow, listen, live in the identity we've already been given and let good things flow out of that.

What things are you putting before just knowing God? How might you have to look at those things differently?

Handle with Care

Today, please take a hop over and check out the blog I posted Friday on another site. How much do the words we communicate matter? Is anything ever "only a story"?

When there are logical consequences to our words, how much guilt should we take on? Tough questions that are only going to get tougher in a world where moral boundaries are shifting with the wind. Please share your opinion!

(And share the blog on your social media sites, if you want.)