Crash Course

I was in a car accident about fifteen years ago. It happened on a Sunday afternoon on my way home from church. I was pulling in my driveway when she hit me. I never saw it coming. Apparently, she didn’t notice me slowing down to turn until the last second. When she did see me, she swerved INTO the driveway instead of away from it and consequently, nailed the side of my car right there in my driveway traveling around 45 miles per hour.

Everyone was okay, despite some cuts, bruises and a little whiplash. It was definitely one of the scariest parenting moments I can remember. My daughter was in her car-seat in the middle of the back. I remember it taking me a moment to realize what had happened and then hearing her screaming. My best friends little sister was with me also and the impact was very close to where she was sitting. She was 8. She looked completely dazed and blood was pouring from her face and mouth. It was in that moment, when it all hit me, that the panic set in. Suddenly, nothing else mattered but the kids. I didn’t even notice my injuries until later after I was sure everyone was okay. My car was totaled.

This morning I was thinking about how life can feel like a colossal mess sometimes. You’re traveling along enjoying the ride, when out of nowhere, it hits. You didn’t even see it coming, and you’re stunned by the impact. You spend some time trying to process it all. Maybe you feel your pain first, maybe you notice the others around you. Maybe you realize what you’ve lost right away or maybe it all comes in pieces, little by little, you take it all in and you break down a little more over time.

Often, we wonder why it happened. There’s usually no readily available explanation. Sometimes the hurt is so extreme that we turn heavenward demanding answers. Sometimes, the heavens are silent.

Some react with rage, others sorrow. Some weep while others remain locked in uncomfortable numb. We all have our ways of dealing with the aftermath.

I don’t have answers to the question why. I try to figure it out sometimes like we all do, but in the end only God knows the plan and we are called simply to trust him. But maybe sometimes he’s hoping when life hits hard, we will turn outward first. Maybe the trials of life are intended to train us to think of others and not just us.

Matthew 22:36-40 “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?”  Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

It’s not always our natural reaction to think of others in the midst of our greatest pain and loss. But our greatest comfort often comes when we do just that. Whatever your reaction is, it’s most important that you get up and keep going. Don’t let anything stop you from fulfilling your destiny. You were created for greatness. Don’t let anything stop you from believing that.

I don’t know what you’re going through. Maybe life is crashing around you as I write this. Maybe your cruising along loving the journey. My greatest desire is that you would know that you are in His hands, He has a plan and that someone out there needs you to get up and keep on going. You are not alone. Look around. Look up. Keep moving forward! It’s going to be okay as long as we keep our eyes on Him.

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

“He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” Philippians 1:6

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

 

 

Outside my bubble

Do we really love? It’s so easy to talk about ideals. We know the right things to do and say; even so, we mess up and run our mouths or misstep into the wrong. Yet we say we’d die for Him. I’ve always believed I would without hesitation until this week when it hit me.

I sat in a room full. Heart full from the love of my friends, my comrades at arms next to me. Stomach full from the extra serving of lasagna someone insisted I eat for the baby (it may have been me, I can’t remember). A preacher on a video spoke with fervor and passion about rescuing the lost, those prisoners of war all around us who we so easily pass by and ignore. Yet we say we’d die for him.

In that moment something clicked within me. I realized that I have missed the point so many times. Deep down, I’m still the shy girl who has no idea where to begin a conversation so rather than fumble, I retreat. I don’t talk to strangers so I stay locked in my bubble of “church-ianity”…comfortable, safe, allowing God to use me in His house speaking and singing to those who know the way. Is that enough?

If I’m willing to die for him, shouldn’t I be willing to live for him? Outside of the church walls where I’ll certainly be rejected, where I’ll be challenged to do something profound with my faith, that’s when it matters most. Jesus told us to go into all the world making disciples of all men. He never asked us to stay in our comfort zones and avoid all non-believers. To do so would be an affront to everything he came to accomplish.

I committed to be different this week and he’s brought me so many opportunities to show his love to others who desperately need him. It’s scary! My heart is willing but in the moments when your dealing with very real issues and someone is crying out for help and answers from God whom they’ve never met and you represent, and your praying “God, please give me the right words because I’m just a broken and feeble vessel”; it’s then that the Spirit of God can begin to show himself. Hopefully I can hide I’m the background of his glory and watch while he sutures the wounded and brings life to those whose hearts desperately seek him. Hopefully, he’ll allow me to offer a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, a surrender of myself and my time to someone outside my little world.

So I’m leaving the sanctuary of my bubble and venturing out to the unknown, the wilderness where I bear the only light, walking with them as they find their way to the source of hope Jesus. I’m yielding my heart to truly love others with action. We can make a difference in this world. Here I am Lord, send me.

Christmas

Here lies a wandering world, numbed by silence and lulled to slumber in the bed of their own consequences. Hearts yearning for “something more”, frustration and longing for love and satisfaction gripping them with fists of disillusionment. “I thought my life would be different.”

Glimmer of hope, Jupiter crowned in Regulus, star to cut the darkness brightly. King of all wrapped in cloak of skin, divinity set aside in submission to meager mortal. Love beyond comprehension. Inconceivable wonder. (You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.)

Care and protection of the Godhead assigned to lowly frame of girl and boy. Unspeakable mystery. “Be it unto me according to your word.” Prophecies of old fulfilled in one. Odds too numerous to imagine. Proof through faith and Science of a living God who set the heavens in motion for this moment.

Christmas tree, gift of God, hanging sinless in agony for the very ones who scourged him. Forgiving and zealous for the waiting world. Accepting the blame for our mistakes. Tree of life, glorious cross. Beauty from despair, newness from death. Lasting satisfaction and peace given freely from scarred hands of mercy.

I am eternally grateful.

Photo by Gino Santa Maria

Photo by Gino Santa Maria

Anchor

Restless waves stirred by force beyond control crashing beneath the weary ones who ache to stand unhindered

Wind to drive the salty air, stinging the eyes, carrying voices to the bellowing deep.

The sea in full fury, bobbing up and down like Jack springing from his metal box with a suddenness and force so unexpected that screams escape unwillingly as if breath were suggested and impulse merely second nature.

Too weighty we are to reach the harbor

Too tossed by circumstance to avoid the rock and crag of the waiting shore.

Forerunner, save us. Go before us and bring our anchor. Set it firm until we can draw near. Behind the veil, you are waiting. Presence of divine hope embodied in your peace.

The waves will pass but you remain. Draw us safely near you. We’ll wait right here.

“This hope we have as an anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast and which enters the Presence behind the veil where the forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus having become the high priest forever” Hebrews 6:19-20