23 | Be(low). Be Humble.

It's Day 23 of this series: 31 Days to Be Still.  More and more, after my moments of stillness with God and with you, I wander off and roam the blogosphere.  I'm enjoying discovering other blogs participating in this challenge, to the point where exploring other series almost eclipses my own endeavor to be still.

And the more I read, the more I am humbled.  I'm discovering great writers. Amazing stories.  Soul stirring inspiration.  What on earth can I add to this online conversation that is unique?  How does my voice point people to God — to deeper relationship with God — in a way that doesn't duplicate or sadly shadow these other blogs and voices?

Humble?  Yes.  Helpful?  No.

This kind of I'm-not-worthy humility obliquely questions God's particular plan for me.  It undermines his power to work in me and through me.

Do you ever struggle with these insecurities?  This imposter syndrome of "How did I get here and when is someone going to figure out I don't belong?"

Today we're going to ditch this humble, fumbling internal monologue.  We're going to trade it for a better kind of humility.  A different kind of being low.  Not low on the totem pole, beneath other people, inferior.  This humility is being below God, in a servant stance, under his loving care and direction.  

iwilltrustinyou.org

He must increase, but I must decrease.  John 3:30

In order for God to make bigger and bolder and brighter changes in our lives, we must diminish our insecurities and our ambitions.  We must trust God to create a meaningful impact in our hearts and our lives.  We must recognize that his power and his vision are greater than our own.

lizzylee via Flickr.com

We need to admit that we don't know everything.  Like the lost and frustrated traveler on the highway of life, we need to pull over to the gas station, rest and refuel, and ask God to straighten out our course.  When we call out to God in our need for answers and directions, he can show us the mighty things we can't even begin to imagine.

asundayafternoon.com

Look at this list of imperfect heroes.  Consider what God achieved through each one of them.

We need to admit our faults, but not beat ourselves up for them.  God didn't make us perfect for a very important reason.  In our flaws, God can flow.  God takes our cracks and fissures and shines his brighter light through them.  His grace makes us whole, makes us better than we could ever be on our own.

This kind of reverential humility is the best freedom we can know.  All we need — all God needs from us — is to be still.

In this God-honoring humility, let's still our hearts and minds.  Let's slow down, breathe deep, and focus on his supreme will and way.

Lord,

You know I have a tendency to put pressure on myself, to compare myself with others, to end up feeling of inferior and insecure.  But you are never disappointed in me.  

As long as I keep my focus on you, you can take my deficiencies and use them to proclaim your proficiency.  As long as I recognize my limitations and turn to your limitless wisdom, you can show your perfect power through my imperfections.  Help me to dwell in this relaxed humility of holding you supreme.

So today I ask this: How I can help bring about your will, Lord?  I give you my stuttering voice, my laughing doubt, my inexperience and my mess.  I trust you to fill the gaps and cracks in my abilities.  

I am low.  Humble.  Flawed.  But I am not insecure.  Instead, I stand secure in knowing that you, in your power and wisdom, can lift me up to do your good work.  

When I lay myself low before you, Lord, when I release my doubts and anxieties and trust in your glory and might, that's when I can truly be still.

I need to repeat that, to print that on my heart.  When I rest below you in humble adoration, I. can. be. still.

I can wait, with patience, for you to complete a good work in me.  I can rest knowing you can take me the rest of the way.

Thank you for this reassurance, Lord, this rejuvenation that comes from humble stillness.  Thank you for taking worries and insecurities off my shoulders.  Thank you, most of all, for lifting me up from my low position with the promise of eternal life alongside you in heaven.

Amen

22 | Be Free

Sometimes as I settle into stillness before God, I struggle to free my mind and heart and soul to be fully present with him.  I feel tied to my devotional "To Do" list.  I keep knotting up in feelings of unworthiness.  I get tangled in earthly distractions and my own inefficacy.

Questions crash the quiet. Am I doing this right?  Am I getting God's message loud and clear?  Am I praying hard enough?  Sincerely enough?  Have I spent enough time with God?  Have I said the things I need to say?  The things he wants to hear?  Questions crowd out Christ's grace-filled gift of freedom.

"Hush," God says. "Enough, already."

Shush the doubts.  Silence the insecurities.  God wants me to know I am enough.

chattingatthesky.com

I am enough because God loves me, not because of what I've done, but because of who he is.  Heavenly Father.  Creator of all that is good.  Steadfast and merciful.

It is enough that I simply rest in the stillness with God.  Our relationship doesn't hinge on what I am doing.  It is secure in what Christ has already done.

gracecamedown.com

Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.  Galatians 5:1

On the cross Christ set us free — free from sin, free from our unworthiness, free from having to earn our salvation.  In selfless, self-sacrificing love, Christ saved us with a one-time act that lasts for all of eternity.

That's a big gift.  Sometimes the biggest and most generous gifts are the hardest to accept.  But that's exactly what we need to do.  Because the alternative — the doubting our worthiness and questioning God's grace — entangles us and enslaves us in our old ways.  

Paul urges us to throw off that old yoke and to embrace this free gift.  "Stand fast" in our "liberty."  Be bold in our freedom.  Be free in knowing God loves us that much.  

Be free from self-doubt; embrace God-trust.

Be free from striving to earn God's love; embrace being God's love in the world.

Be free from the guilt of old sin; embrace God's forgiveness and a new life.

Be free from doing; embrace being, simply being a child of God

It's a tall order.  But God fills us with the Holy Spirit to help make it happen.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death!  Romans 8:1-2

If you need help in accepting this freedom in Christ, won't you join me in prayer?

Lord,

I am a creature of this earth, flawed and imperfect.  Stained and rumpled and ragamuffin-y.  For some reason I expect you to see me with human eyes.  I expect your disappointment, and I hide myself from you in shame.  I try to scrub off the dirt and deficiencies I see so clearly.  But you see me like a small child wearing the days adventures and misadventures, and you love me for what you see deep in my heart.  

I know that you invite me to be free from my slavish ways of sin and guilt, of self-doubt, of striving where you have already succeeded.  Help me to be free in your salvation.  Help me to accept your loving grace.  And help me to respond by wrapping myself in the selfless love that says, "My God is bigger and better than I can ever imagine.  My love for God is so overpowering I have to share it with everyone in my midst."  

I can't get to this place of adoration and acceptance on my own.  I need your Holy Spirit to guide me there.  And this is all the more reason I need to be still with you. To still my weak ways and embrace your grace.  To quiet my doubts so there is room for me to hear your gentle voice.

Help me to remember that you accept me totally and completely, just as I am.  Help me feel free to be myself — to be the person you created me to be — trusting that you can use my messy life to write your own special message.  Help me to freely, boldly share your message in my corner of the world.

Amen

onegirl-itjusttakesone.blogspot.com

6 | When Being Still is Hard

Let's be honest.  This being still stuff sounds easy.  But it's not.

Our world is wired to be on the move.  We've trained our brains to be multitaskers.  Sitting still gets a bad couch-potato rap. Being quiet sounds mousy and submissive.  No wonder making time for quiet reflection is a tough habit to build.

Let's re-frame this idea.  If you, like me, sometimes suffer from the bias that stillness is a passive, unproductive practice, take that tainted notion right out of the junk-drawer in your head and chuck in in the dumpster of limited thinking.

Did you do it?  I didn't hear the clanging ka-chunk.

There.  That's better.

club.coolamonrotary.com

Instead let's think of stillness like the pause a leopard takes before she springs into the hunt.  Like the brilliant mathematician's breath as the last pieces of the solution click into place.  Like the moment of anticipation before the surprise party explodes into existence.  Without the stillness, the conquest, the discovery, the celebration is at risk of never happening.

We need the stillness before God so he can do his deep soul-stirring in us.

Now perhaps this stillness is difficult for reasons beyond the psychological.

gogowomen.com

Perhaps you suffer from physical squirminess.  Some of my greatest moments of spiritual stillness come when I am running. The exertion and endorphins crowd out the clutter in my brain.  I can talk with God with greater freedom and focus.  Give yourself permission to find a mental and soulful place of stillness while your body is in motion.

Does silence suffocate you?  Some of us feel stifled without the stimulation of sound. Try some simple, melodic music as a soft background to your quiet time, something that will bring your thoughts back to God in an unobtrusive way.

Is your "To Do" list tugging at you?  Take a simple chore and perform it in a meditative manner.  Sometimes when I fold the laundry, I pray to God about those who wear the clothes.  I lift up our relationships and ask God to help me see where the stains are, to help me see what needs mending and refreshing.  Our physical tasks can be reminders of ways God wants to work in our lives.

When being still is hard, maybe you are trying too hard.  Try a different perspective. Try a different approach.  Try releasing the work from yourself and lifting it up to God.

winkal.com/share/religion

All we are asked to do is make the space for God to speak.  We do not have to do that perfectly or beautifully.  We do not have to get it right.  We just need to offer up the imperfect invitation for God to enter into our lives with his perfect Spirit.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."  So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

Dear Lord,

Thank you for your grace.  Thank you for looking upon my difficulties being still with your understanding and forgiveness. Thank you for taking my weakness and filling it with your power and your peace.  

You know that I dearly want to be still and celebrate that you are my God.  When my brain and body and heart make it hard to slow down, to steep in your love, show me your better way.  Help me to make a sacred space for our relationship to grow, so that I may live as you intended, enjoying a life that is full and good.

Amen.



Looking for more inspiration to get through the hard parts?

Diedra Riggs writes about how God showed her he can "transform the everyday into a sacred encounter."

Everyday Tabernacles

Bonnie Gray, via Lysa TerKeurst's blog, writes "Why I'm Breaking Up with Quiet Time" and offers ways to reinvigorate the habit when being still starts to go sour.

Bonnie Gray

What do you do when Being Still is hard?  I'd love to hear your insights.

When Focus Fades

Did you notice my obsessed ambitious 2013 Bible Reading Plan?

You'd think someone who would go so far as to post her Bible reading plan and a geeky bar chart documenting her progress would be committed to the goal.  Unflagging in her enthusiasm.  Persistent in her follow through.  You'd think she'd probably make it at least six months before any temptations of deep-sixing said goal crossed her mind.

You'd think wrong.

Week three of daily Bible reading and exploring the lesser-read Old Testament texts, and I am flailing.  My focus on being present with God, in his word... it's become rather blurry.

Every day I am tempted by The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest and The Cursing Mommy's Book of Days to push aside my Bible and indulge in more frivolous reading. 

What's a person to do when focus fades?

Pray.
This is where I take a page from Paul's epistle and another from Anne Lammott's book.  "Oh, Lord.  I do those things I don't want to do.  And I don't do the things I aim to do.  Help me, help me, help me get my God-loving focus back."  It's the prayer of admitting I can't do it alone, that I need God's help.
 
Persist.
As it is written in James 1:2-3, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance."  If we don't give up but give God the chance to refine our efforts and habits, then our faith can grow.  So I add another prayer: "God, help me to persevere, to push through the hard parts, and to find the joy in the challenge and the promise of a stronger faith beyond it."

Go Public.
God surrounds us with a cloud of witnesses, not to document our shortcomings and botched attempts, but to carry us through life's hard parts and celebrate life's victories with us.  The Big Guy in the Sky reminds me, when I'm tempted to stray away from his word, that there are 15 people who occasionally tune in to my bloggy blathering.  Fifteen people who might actually ask, "Hey, how's that Bible reading going?"  Fifteen people with whom to share glimmers of his goodness whether I succeed or stumble on this journey through Scripture.  A cloud of witnesses to carry me through.

(Perhaps your cloud isn't in the electronic cloud.  They can be family.  Friends.  Neighbors.  Your personal Board of Directors.  The point is invite them along on your journey and allow God to work his wonders through them.)

So with prayers, persistence, and a smidgen of the public invisibly watching over my shoulder, I settled in to read Joshua this morning.  That's when this little nugget grabbed me. 

"Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy."  And Joshua did so.
Joshua 5:15

That's how God made his presence known, when he made sure persistence paid off.

"The place where you stand, dear Liz, is holy."

Huh?  I've been procrastinating and unfocused and flailing.  How is that holy ground?

I swear I heard God clear his throat.  "Ahem."  Soft and patient, yet pointed.  Okay, so possibly that was my dog trying to cough up a fur ball.  But let's not rule out the mysterious ways in which God works.

"Ahem."

As in, "Dear Liz, it is not your work or your effort that makes the ground holy."

In fact, it's not until I strip away my stuff — my sandals, my socks, my insecurities and frustrations about my mistakes — that I can see God's holiness in my midst.

When I'm all caught up in reading the Bible to satisfy my goal, of course I'm going to lose focus.  First off, I'm forgetting that it's the Spirit who led me down this reading path.  Second, I'm stuck in a "to do" mentality before I even open the Bible.  How can God get through when I'm focused on getting done?  

So here's the lesson I've learned:  When focus fades, let go and let God take over.  Shed the earthly shoes that drag me down crooked paths, and let God make my path straight.  Because when I let him, he always leads me to his holy ground.


I pray that you find some time to focus on God today.  May he fill you with prayer, persistence, and a cloud of witnesses to get you where you need to be spiritually.  May he help you shed your earthly distractions so you can see him more clearly, love him more dearly, and follow him more nearly.

18 | The Gift of Kindness

I just spent the day subbing in the middle school I attended a long, long time ago.  I rounded a corner into the un-updated portion of the building, and 8th grade was staring me in the face.  Remember the awkwardness?  The social distress?  The nearly constant fluttering of nerves and insecurity?  I nearly had to check to see if I was wearing the "right" brand of jeans.  (Hmmmm.  I don't think I'd cut it in any clique wearing my "Tarjay Boutique" trousers.)

I can think of all kinds of spaces and places where we need to slather kindness.  Middle school is at the top of the list.  Which got me praying about this...  (Won't you join me?)

Let love of the brethren continue.  Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.

Hebrews 13:1-2

Dear Lord,

I'm dreaming of a world where there's a lot more kindness.  (I'm guessing you've got a dream like this, too.)  It's a world where kids don't bully to compensate for their own insecurities.  Where the label "stupid" doesn't exist.  Where drivers don't rage against the machinery of traffic.  Where colleagues don't undermine each other in the name of professional advancement.  Where siblings don't squabble incessantly.  (Can we start with my kids, please?).  Where selfishness doesn't suck the nice out of us.  (Ooops.  Scratch that request about my kids not squabbling, God.)  

It's a world where honor abounds.  Thoughtfulness thrives.  Blessings blossom.  Where we see the angel in everyone, and act accordingly.

This is the world I want my kids — all kids — to grow up in.  But am I always kind?  Hardly!  Am I succeeding in coaching my kids to constant kindness?  Not likely!  Am I equipping them to respond to meanness with resiliency and forgiveness?  Hopefully...

Lord, it's hard work, this kindness coaching.  Can you forgive may many unkind sins?  Can you give me a good example, so I can model myself on someone who has done a better job?  What'd you say?  Been there, done that?  Oh, yeah...

Jesus.

Look at all he did in three years of ministry.   Healed hundreds.  Fed thousands.  Taught slow-to-understand knuckleheads (Sorry.  Name calling.  I meant to say "disciples.")  Listened.  Forgave.  Touched.  Practiced patience.  Saved wedding parties when the wine ran dry.  Hung out with anyone and everyone, whether they were in his clique or not.  Forgave some more.  Patiently taught again... and again.  Took on all our sins.  Suffered graciously.  Conquered death.  Rose victoriously — for each and every one of our undeserving souls.  

God, you are really good at this providing examples thing. 

Is that a fair example, though?  I mean, Jesus is Jesus, and I am so, SO human.  Flawed, with a big fat "F."  I think it helped Jesus to be your kid when he was doing all that nice stuff.  The gene pool must have given him a big boost.  Guess I should just throw in the towel now.  Wait...  What's that you say?

I am a child of God, too.  Huh.  Named and claimed as one of yours in baptism.  Poured full of the Holy Spirit, if I'd just tap into that Godly grace.  

Can it really be that simple?  Well... NO.  God, I'm bound to get it wrong as much as I get it right.  But I know you have promised to be by my side as I try to walk your chosen way.  Thank you for being my Heavenly Father, for nurturing me, loving me, and forgiving me.  Thank you for showing me your kindness, even when I least deserve it.  I know in my heart you will refresh and restore me when I feel too weary to be kind to others.  You will point out the weary who need kindness when my cup is full.  Let your kindness gene be strong in me, so others see how nice it is to abide in you.

Amen.

May God's kindness brighten your corner of the world today, and may you radiate his kind light to others.

P.S.  Even though October is more than half over (how'd that happen?), you can still jump in on 1000 Acts of Kindness.  Check it out...

16 | Inconsistent Training

Why is it so hard to give up some selfishness and gain some semblance of self control?  Do you struggle with this too?  Please pray with me...

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Ephesians 5:1-2

Dear Lord,

You know I'm working on self control with my dog.  [Sit.  Down.  Watch.  Leave it.  Aaaarrrgghhhh!!!!!!!!  Stop DIGGING!!!!]  And myself.  [Focus on God.  Quit the crabbies.  Breathe in peace.  Breathe out love.  Be STILL.]

And unrelatedly, or maybe not, I'm trying to recuperate from patellar tendonitis and get back into running and working out.  God, in your wisdom, this physical discipline is not a linear path, and orderly progression.  It's more like one step forward and two steps backwards, with lots of aches and added pounds in the process.  Can you give me some patience with this process?

Let's be honest.  I'm not doing a bang up job in any of these departments of self control.  God, I need your help.  I lift  these disciplinary efforts up to you.

Let's start with the dog.  There are so many passions piled into my day, and that is a blessing.  But I'm not consistent with training.  And it shows, especially in the 18" holes he's added to the yard, the garden.  Here's the sad thing: the pooch craves training.  He's glued to my side in furry puppy love and affection.  He wants my attention.  (God, give me a slice of that eager devotion for you, please.)  I'm just too scattered to spend enough time in that pursuit. 

And then there is the physical healing.  You've put great helpers in my path to recovery: my internist, an orthopedic surgeon, two physical therapists, a personal trainer, and now I've got another trainer/gifted healer lined up for a session of healing massage.  (Thank you for their gifts, for working through them toward healing.)  You've given me good health, but it's a package deal that comes with a hip that slides forward and knees that knock together and all kinds of alignment issues.  I've spent hours on the floor grimacing through postural restoration exercises.  Muscle engagement where I never knew I had muscles.  Small, excruciatingly hard movements.   So small that passersby comment: "Gee, that looks relaxing."  "Taking a break?"  Humph.  I want to break them.  In half.  (God, more patience please.  More kindness, por favor.)  Can you blame me for taking a big, neglectful break from the physical therapy routine?  Yeah, I thought you'd say that.  It's just so slow.  So hard.  The results are so hazy vague.  (Forgive me for whining.)

What I really need forgiveness for is my haphazard spiritual training.  Forgive me for prayers that wander and dissolve before Amen.  For times when I've let go and gossiped.  When I've let bitterness slip.  When I neglect the love letter of your Living Word.  When I've served up service with a side of resentment.  Forgive me for missed opportunities to pull my kids in close to talk about your unconditional love.  For focusing on my shortcomings instead of inviting your grace.  Your unconditional love is for me, too.

This morning — while walking/training the dog and engaging my core/working on hip alignment/tucking in my tailbone and praying — you gave me an epiphany.  You interrupted the skittering thoughts scurrying across my brain.  "But have you embraced any of these training efforts fully?  Truly and fully?"

No. 

Oh, I am ashamed, God, for kidding myself and disgracing you.  Forgive me for my haphazard efforts, my distracted devotion.  For thinking I'm giving you my all when I'm really holding back a big fraction of my self.  Forgive me most of all for trying to do too much (Dog training and walking and physical therapy and praying all at the same time?  Really?) instead of slowing down, focusing, and letting you help.

You are constantly there for me, constantly caring.  Help me to be that constant in my devotion to you.  Help me to be that disciplined in being true to the way you want me to live.  Train my tongue, my temperament, my time management.  When the urge to abandon self control looms large, pull me in close to you and your perfect way.  That is where I want to stay.

Amen.

3 | Confession [ 31 Days of Prayer ]

Confession + repentance = starting the U-turn back to God

Dear and Compassionate Lord,

Confession is hard.  I know I need to move beyond sweeping generalities and examine the nitty gritty of my flawed behavior, or my stained heart.  I know I need to see my sin clearly so I can leave it behind and turn back to you.

Here goes:

Forgive me for the many times each day that I neglect my relationship with you.  the prayers that wander off into mental "to do" lists.  The abandoned Bible Study reading.  The postponed quiet time.  The rushed or neglected prayers with my kids.  Ugh.  There is a hole in my heart as I recognize these missed opportunities to snuggle into your love.  Thank you for repeatedly forgiving these sins and continuing your patient presence in my life.

Forgive me for being crabby and irritable with my husband.  He deserves better.  Help me to overlook minor nuisancees, or better yet, to see them as reminders of his unique and charming personality.  (Empty Equal packets left on the counter = reminders of his sweetness that is never artificial.)  Help me to keep my sense of humor with him, not a list of pet peeves.  Help me to have a grateful heart for his love, not a list of grudges.  And remind me to plant a big, loving, romantic kiss on him at least once a day.

Forgive me for being impatient with my kids.  They are so young.  They do try their best.  I'm so sorry for all the times I fail to recognize their need to dawdle explore the nooks and crannies of their days.  I'm sorry for all the times I fail to recognize the warning signs of their stress or hurt and label their behavior as immature and self-absorbed tantrums.  I'm doubly sorry for all the times I get stuck in my thoughts or "to do" list when they need me to be available, interrupt-able, and present in the moment with them.  I'm triply sorry for the nasty-yelling-angry-psycho-mom that sneaks out when I'm at my wits end.  That hole in my heart is leaking ugly shame now...  And yet you forgive, you plug, you heal and cleanse.  Thank you for forgiving my many parenting mistakes, and for showing me your wondrous example of unconditional love.

There is more, Lord, so much more.  Neglected friendships, unanswered emails, ignoring the dog, avoiding a chatty acquaintance because I'm just not in the mood, illogical rantings in a highway traffic jam.  And that was just yesterday.  You see it all.  You know all my faults.  And you love me anyway.  

Thank you for your forgiveness and unconditional love.  Help me to see when I start to slip into sin.  Give me the strength to turn back to you.  Most of all, help me to accept your forgiveness.  Help me to embrace your grace.  Show me how to leave my sins at the foot of the cross, so you can cleanse my stained soul and direct me to your better path.  Show me how to be the child of God that you see in me.

That hole in my heart is shrinking quickly now, as I rest in your love.  Thank you for the healing touch of your forgiveness.

Amen.

If we make it our habit to confess our sins, in his faithful righteousness he forgives us for those sins and cleanses us from all unrighteousness.  

1 John 1:9 (ISV)

2 | Adoration [ 31 Days of Prayer ]

Lord and Loving Creator, 

I am ever and always amazed at your brilliant designs. The cool of a desert canyon floor.  The music of a child's laughter.  The artistry of a foggy sunrise.  The endorphin thrill of a long run.  The warmth of a loving hug.  The infinite wisdom of your will and your way.

As I pause and focus solely on you, I am awed by your goodness.  All things are possible for you.  And of all things, you choose to love—unconditionally—flawed and feeble humankind.  You set the stars in motion, and you stop to listen to our prayers.  You know the order of all the days of all time, and you know the inner workings of each heart, mind and soul.  Of all the things you can have, you WANT to be in deep and abiding relationship with us.  Heavenly Father, I am humbled that you claim me as your child: chosen, forgiven, and loved.  Thank you.

Today I pray that I continue to see your amazing grace in all things.  Help me to share this adoration with my family, to reflect it in all I do.  May this reverence shape my day and guide my ways, to glorify you, my living, loving Lord.

Amen.

Good Enough?

I’m a perfectionist.  Not necessarily by choice, but by hard wiring.  Fancying myself as a DIY kind of gal, I’m trying to jigger those wires and fix the circuitry overload.  But it is a slow process.

Recently I saw something that echoed old arguments in my head and reframed my perfectionist perspective.

It was a classic God Nudge.  I almost missed the message.  It just looked so nice and clean in The Nester’s collection of 31 days blog topics.  My favorite colors.  Witty font.  And I skimmed on.

Then… whoa.  It sunk in.  And it’s been tickling my brain ever since.

Imperfection can be charming? 

Ergo: perfection… not so much?

Hmmmm.

We’re in the Parade of Homes season.  Every conversation seems to meander to some perfect and palatial house that someone has recently seen.  And the cluster of curious onlookers murmurs about how perfect the décor was, how stunning the lighting was, how gorgeous the color scheme was.

But no one really wants to live there. 

We want homes that embrace us with a forgiving patina of comfy couches and scuffed floors and a personality that screams (sometimes too insistently): "We live and love and create and dream here!" 

It’s hard to cultivate patina from perfection.  It requires age… oxidation… exposure to life’s rougher elements.  And the result is a stirring beauty that tells a story.

This is something I need to remember.   This is want I want to rewire in my brain, rewrite my internal soundtrack with…  Because I struggle with this inner voice that says: “Great is great.  Good is good.  Good enough, well, that’s just settling for mediocrity.”  I’ve given up on Great.  But I do want to be the Good Wife, the Good Mom, the Good and Faithful Child of God.  I am slowly figuring out, however, that if I achieve Good, then where is the need for God?  If I can be good on my own, then I forget the gift of his Grace.

Good enough is good enough for my Mr. and my kids, my friends and my family.  They don’t want flawless.  They want me here and now, available in this moment, not preoccupied with perfection. 

And God wants me here and now, as I am, flaws and all, because He is going to fill my gaps with his love and forgiveness and make me whole. He embraces my imperfections, because his power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).  I need to be okay with being good enough so I can be open to God’s saving grace which is more than enough.  My picture doesn’t have to be perfect, because his frame, in the form of a rough-hewn cross, is bigger and brighter and better than anything I can ever dream to be.

Lord, help us to embrace our flaws and your forgiveness.  Help us to accept imperfection and weakness as an invitation for your grace and your power.  And please, please, please strengthen our spirit and quiet our minds when the perfectionist drive tries to worm its way into our wiring.  Amen.

Theology of Dried Up Markers

I have had to control the urge to buy Brand New Juicy Markers no less than six times this Back-to-School season.  (Having just purchase a 50-marker pack this summer, that seemed more like a Greed than a Need.  Bummer!)  What is it about those perfect tips?  Those strong and flowing colors?  That packaged promise of new and artistic creations?

We love markers at our house.  But we also have a thing for dying and dried out markers.  It’s this kind of thing:

Retired marker cup

It's become our Enviro-Friendly, Upcycled, Repurposed Gift Giving craft of choice.

Tutorial

You need:

• About 12 to 20 dried markers
• One clean and tin can, stripped of its label
• A piece of ribbon, about 10” long
• A hot glue gun. 

1.   Glue each marker around the base.   Start by laying down a one- to two-inch horizontal bead of glue and putting two or three markers in place at a time.  It helps to keep the can on the table and make sure the marker bottom is flush with the bottom of the can.  

Note: If you are a perfectionist, God help you, and get a rubber band so you can do a dress rehearsal of how the markers will fit around the can.  That way if you have a gap at the end you can play with using markers of various sizes to fit the circumference better. 

Another Note:  If you are a math major, you could probably figure out an equation for x pens =  pi * can’s radius to determine the quantity and diameter of the pens that you will need.  But you should really put your problem solving skills to slowing the world’s climate change problem instead of extrapolating a mathematical formula for crafting… 

2.   Anyway, once you get your markers glued on, find a colorful ribbon, tie it in place over a glue got or two, and voila!  You have the perfect teacher appreciation gift. 
 
3.   If you want to earn bonus points or redeem yourself after forgetting homework and Media Center books all year, throw in a batch of pencils and a cute tag.  A+++!

All this thinking about markers and assessing our dwindling stash of dried out relics got me reflecting on the Theology of Dried Up Markers.

In baptism, God makes us—his markers in the world—fresh and juicy receptacles of his flowing Holy Spirit.  And that is very, very good.  But if we don’t keep our caps on tight by staying connected to God and his Living Word, our ink—our ability to color our world with God’s vibrant love—will dry up.

And we do dry up.  We are human.  Flawed.  Imperfect.

But that is not the end of the story.  (Amen to THAT!)  God doesn’t toss us out when we wander away from him, distracted by earthly things, forgetting our caps under the craft table, neglecting his word and his will.

He waits.  And he works.  And more often than we realize, he brings us back to him, taking his dried out, crusty, errant children and rejuvenating us.  We might not be revived with a miraculously never-ending ink supply.  But we might be gathered in fellowship with a bunch of other flawed Christians, set into a new place with a new purpose, and lovingly shared with the world.  With a bow around us, to boot!  Talk about being born again as something better!

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I fear that being made anew in Christ means changing who I am.  That’s hard.  I like who I am.  If I change in Christ how does that change my relationships with loved ones, the joy I get from favorite pastimes, the comfort of my current life?  When I’m stuck in this thinking it helps to remember that God doesn’t replace me or completely remake me.  He takes what I am and makes it better.  He connects me to others in a new way, in a new purpose.  He works beyond my original size and shape and dreams up something far more colorful than I could ever imagine.

It’s like Ann Voskamp said in a recent webcast (I paraphrase…): As Christians we say “Yes” to who God is.  We also say “Yes” to who God says we are.  He says we are forgiven.  Renewed.  Made clean.  Made whole.  Loved unconditionally and eternally.  God says our crusty emptiness counts no more.  He says we are each a lovingly chosen receptacle for his grace.  A clay jar.  A dried up marker.  And he uses us and only he can.

This is what I take away from learning God’s lesson about the Dried Up Markers: I’ve let go of stressing over the ruts and dry spots in my faith journey.  I’ve let go of my imperfections.  I turn my eyes back to Jesus.  I revive my habits.  And I wait for God to work me into his latest and greatest craft project. 

Thanks, God, for being our Divine Creator, for making me new in you.

Amen.

P.S.  If you have any dried up markers lying around your house that you don’t plan on using, send them our way.  The glue gun and tin cans are waiting!