Arise; Make Your Bed.

Trying to summarize life and the lessons learned in the midst of it for months at a time doesn't always look super put together. Things get messy. And when I landed in Arizona back in March, it seemed like I was dropped into the middle of a mess. I tend to like things tidy and predictable, which is ironic considering the past two years of my life have been anything but that. I prefer to make plans and know what is coming, and the past few months have looked little like my intended return to "normal life."

It's funny what time does. It can take health, security, community and control and turn it into what looks like sickness, instability, loneliness and chaos (also known as distorted shadows of the truth). The reality I've found in the midst of these distortions is that the Lord doesn't care about my happiness. I don't mean that the one who created man doesn't care about the things of his heart. I am suggesting that it's much less of a concern to Him as much as our character rests in the forefront of His mind. 
 
My attitude in the thick of so much life happening was hardly anything that resembled Christ and took a lot of refining to get me to a place that is hopefully starting to look more like Him. I have been bouncing between hospitals, churches, preschools, nursing homes, funerals, weddings, changed community, and anything in between. I guess you could say I'm just walking the journey of life, but it seemed to come at me faster than I had expected in a compact time frame. I walked into everything that I once knew and discovered it had changed more than I was ready for. Once things would settle, a new "crisis" would soon follow. And the result? Pity, apathy, the temptation to hide and not enter into it.

A trend of my life in the past has been to build up walls and hide behind them, thinking I could do this life thing fine on my own, not wanting to appear weak or seem like a burden to the people around me. This typically leads to turning things into a much bigger deal than they really are and becoming selfish in my thoughts and actions. Something I have been trying to embrace in the last few years (sometimes better than others) has been what I like to refer to as "hiding in a fish bowl." The thing about hiding in a fish bowl is that everyone can see you. In that, you can't turn things into something they are not. I want the human parts of me to be slain with the sharpest sword, and often that takes the people around you calling them out in love, truth and grace.

  

I have been reading through Acts recently and many stories have stood out and resonated with me in this time. One in particular that has continued to have an impact is from Acts 9:

32 Now it came to pass, as Peter went through all parts of the country, that he also came down to the saints who dwelt in Lydda. 33 There he found a certain man named Aeneas, who had been bedridden eight years and was paralyzed. 34 And Peter said to him, “Aeneas, Jesus the Christ heals you. Arise and make your bed.” Then he arose immediately. 35 So all who dwelt at Lydda and Sharon saw him and turned to the Lord.  

This man had been passed by for eight years without healing; an outcast begging in the street. I can only assume he felt a little apathetic and some self-pity. Then Peter walks by, and with a few simple words (along with the mighty power of God), he gets up and is on his way. The kicker for me was what Peter says though: "Arise, and make your bed." It's as if, as I said earlier, the Lord doesn't care about our circumstance as much as He cares about our character in the midst of it. It's as if the Lord is saying, "Once you have an encounter with me that shakes you to the core and heals you, we don't have time for you to lay around anymore. Get up, pick up responsibilities, and know the weight of what just happened." One of our teachers in Spain said one day, "If you can't get up to change the light bulb, the Lord is not going to ask you to change the world. Take responsibility." 

I am aware that I may be taking this passage out of context, however it has altered my perspective. I have had encounters with the Lord that have shaken me to the core. I have met Him in ways that don't allow me to feel apathy or pity. So as a daily discipline more recently, I have woken up and made my bed before I go out for the day. As someone who always thought this was the biggest waste of time considering I would be getting back in it hours later, this was a big deal. It's more than a chore in the morning. Rather, it's me saying, "I choose in today. No matter what lies ahead of me today, I choose in." 

  
We don't always get to decide what we walk through or what happens around us. It is a divine privilege to sit face to face with brokenness, whether your own or others'. I tend to think that life is about getting to a place of wholeness, but I believe, more than ever, that there is beauty in the unraveling. It's like having a gift and not knowing what treasure lies inside unless you take off the wrapping. The beauty isn't really in the outside; it comes out once you unravel that and discover what's been dwelling inside all along.  

We are meant to be a house for the Lord to dwell, and for a while recently, my house was full. Full of things that looked like the opposite of His Spirit and truth. Now that those things are getting cleared out again, (bless Him, we are always in progress), there is room for Him to rest His head again. I pray that, like the end of the story, people will "see [me] and turn to the Lord." Not because of me, but because of the work He is continuing to do in me.  

So my friends, if you are in a place of overwhelming life right now, pause, breathe, and listen: "Jesus, the Christ, heals you. Arise and make your bed."

Facing Giants

I woke up before the sun, attune to the melody the Lord was playing that I so often tune out with my thoughts. My senses were acutely aware of my surroundings- the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves crashing to shore, the pinks and oranges lining the horizon suggesting the rising of the sun, the brisk air blowing through the door and wrinkling the sheets. I thanked the Lord for my breath, only to find out that a few breaths earlier, my grandma was receiving some hard news from the doctor—the same news that my grandpa had received only a year before. It made me cling tighter to the gifts that were around me. It was one of those sobering moments that remind me that my days are numbered and life is a vapor.

An hour later, I toasted my friend over breakfast as we overlooked the Med on the balcony. She asked what we were toasting to- a question that caught me off guard- like there has to be an occasion to celebrate. I believe we should celebrate because we are alive, because we have the gift of breath, because the Lord is good.

We sat and watched the sunlight splash gold into the sea as the waves rolled up to the shore. We ate like queens as we talked about how unfair life was without her even knowing the news that I had received that morning. Yes, we can gather that it is highly unfair. Only the night before, we had sat on this same balcony discussing the joys, struggles, lessons and memories of the past year and the promises, joys and expectations of the coming year. We talked about places our feet had tread and stories of people who had captured our hearts. We spoke of children in orphanages who emanated the joy that each of us should carry, and of beggars on the street who have more hope than those with large houses and a steady income.

The next day, I received news of a sweet new life brought into the world as my cousin rejoiced over his first-born child born 8 weeks early (thankfully healthy and beautiful). Hours later, I received news of a friend I had grown up with going into emergency surgery for a head trauma he had received after falling at work.

None of these circumstances phased me in the way that I would assume they would. I claimed the healing of Christ over them right away. I know the God who knit them together in their mother’s womb- the same God who is called the great physician- the God who delights in miracles. To say that worry wasn’t there would be a lie, but alongside that worry came a greater peace.

At church that same weekend, the message was about David- a man who fought lions and bears, battles and giants. David walked into the battle with the giant, Goliath, proclaiming victory from the start. He looked at the situation in front of him, came in the name of the Lord, and stood confident in how it would end. He knew the Lord was with him. I realized in the midst of the message that no battle is bigger than another. In our lives, more practically, whether it’s a financial burden, an illness, or a seemingly small problem, they are essentially all the same. We serve a God who will never leave nor forsake us. We serve a God who is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow- He changes not. Even picture evidence from a doctor should not cause us to flinch, because His character is not altered based on circumstance. The mountains before us may seem to vary in size, but the outcomes are the same, assured by a never changing God. He has guaranteed the victory.

I admit that I am not always instantly optimistic in the face of adversity. I, like Joshua, sometimes need to be reminded by the Lord to be strong and courageous. But then like David, I try to run towards the enemy with a stone in hand, confident in the one who goes before me. I don't have to sit in defeat or allow worry to tempt me to inaction.

I have been learning a lot from David in terms of coming from a place of fullness that is derived from a deep intimacy with God. It's easy to look at circumstances and want to walk the other way, but it takes a confidence that comes from reaching into that deep well to face the mountains and proclaim who God is. David recognized the many ways we can commune with the Lord- as father, as provider, as shepherd, as friend, etc. He came to the Lord with a yielding and surrendered heart and experienced joy, peace and worship in the midst of trial and hardship. He came with the humility of a shepherd, and the authority of a king. He meditated on the goodness of God and reminded himself often of the things God had done. He ran in relentless pursuit of knowing and understanding the heart of God, and despite his many shortcomings, he was called a man after God's own heart. 

In the midst of challenges, our character is built. When I am learning things, God always seems to give me plenty of opportunity to make sure that what I am getting revelation on is deeply engrained within me. It's one thing for me to sit here claiming His goodness to whoever may read this, but it means nothing unless I am living the truth of it on the other side of the screen. Whether it's in joy and celebration or struggle and hardship, I want to stand in intimacy with Christ and proclaim Him based on the truth that I know, so through my character others are drawn to Him.