Imagine the Possibilities

About a year ago, my life turned a corner. I didn't realize it was a corner at the time, but corner it was, and looking back, it's amazing where that one little decision has led.

It was almost a year ago when I wrote the post entitled, "New Beginnings, Slow Transitions, and a Long, Straight Pathway". In doing so, I began a journey I hadn't intended to take, and embarked upon the adventure of quietly and unconsciously becoming a writer.

I have always enjoyed writing, but this past year as I began to write more and more, I found that the  more I wrote, the more convinced I became that writing was something God wanted me to be focusing on. So I continued to write.

Then, as the new schoolyear began to ramp up, so did my writing, with another unconscious embarking, this time upon the genre of children's literature. Thankfully, I had an encouraging little class of students, and when, in December, I asked if they would like a sequel to the one little story I had written for them, they not only replied that they would, they hounded me for it until I had finished it. Then other stories came, and I took great delight in reading them to my captive audience. Their pleasure in hearing the stories encouraged me to continue to write more.

In January, I began writing a study on Biblical contentment, and while in the midst of that project I "accidentally" began writing a novel. I quite enjoyed what little flowed out of the first idea which sparked the story, and I wanted to find out what happened next, so I began to write a little more here and there, but I had no idea where to start with plots and characters, and so very many decisions which must be made when writing a story of any length.  So I listened to writer podcasts, and ordered books on structuring and outlining a novel.

Then a few weeks ago, I went to a writer's conference. At that writer's conference, I shared the first page of the "accidental novel" with a kind woman who was a published author, and who told me that I should enter it in the Cascade Awards. I needed fifteen pages, however, and a synopsis, which meant that I had to make some big decisions about the plot, theme, and characters. That much is done now, and this week I sent in three entries to my very first writing contest. 

I don't know if I will win, or even if I will be a finalist in any of the three categories, but I do know that I never would have even thought of entering a year ago, and whatever the outcome, I am excited to have the judges' feedback on the pieces I entered, and I am glad to have exercised the courage to put my entries out there.

My point is, you never know what God will awaken in you as you yield yourself, your talents, your dreams and your aspirations to Him. As I wrote that blog post a year ago, I was laying one dream to rest, and felt I did not dare search for a new one, for fear that I would pick up the old one again in a different form. Then, as time passed, I began to feel that God was telling me to dream again. But I scarcely knew what to dream of, for God had led me away from that which I had spent all my dreams upon in the past.

Yet, God already had a new dream ready for me, tailored exactly to my place, my season of life, and to the state of my heart. He had taken away the old dream that I might focus upon the new.

But this new chapter of life doesn't necessarily entail a changing of the previous one; if anything, it just adds more work and more busy-ness to an already busy life, but it also adds another layer of purpose and vision. It encourages me to imagine the possibilities that exist when one serves a God with whom nothing shall be impossible.

And so I embrace the extra work, the extra pressure on my schedule, the sometimes late nights when inspiration hits just as I ought to be going to sleep, and with it I embrace the joy of doing what I was made to do, the satisfaction of a well-worded phrase or sentence, and the greatest thrill: that of having been used by God to write something which He has chosen to use in the heart of someone else.

I dare to imagine God using my writing on this blog and in other ways, to touch the hearts of others I would never have come into contact with before. I dare to dream of achieving, succeeding, not materially or in any worldly way, but I do dare to dream that I might achieve something for the kingdom of Christ through the ability He has chosen to awake in me.

 I dare to imagine that God could use me in ways I never could have imagined before and I dare to have the courage to step forward along this new stretch of my long, straight pathway, feeling that there are now mileposts along the way in the form of things God wants me to accomplish for His glory between here and my final destination. 

New Year's Goals for the Plodder

I must admit, I bristle when one of my friends asks me about my goals for the new year. I shouldn't. Goals are a good thing, and help us keep from coasting along in apathy. But when you're in a season of life where there seem to be no "major" goals for which to strive, it can be difficult to be motivated to make any goals.  (Don't worry, I'm not just going to complain the whole post -there's a point to all this...stay with me!)

 At this moment, I know that I am right where God wants me to be, doing exactly what He wants me doing, and since I have no clear direction from the Lord about changes in the future, making goals can be difficult.

It's not as if I'm in a corporate job, seeking to climb my way to the next promotion. For a teacher who loves the grade she's teaching, promotion to a different position is a very unwelcome thing. And I already have the degrees I had been working so hard on, so there's no more major educational milestone to be achieved.

 I'm a plodder. I don't have some overarching plan to work towards, nor do I have any dreams of accomplishing some grand thing. But I do know that there are things I need to work on this next year, and written goals will keep me from blowing those things off as too much work or just something to do "later".

One thing I tend to forget is that things I've already been doing for years can count as goals. For example, I have been reading through the entire Bible each year since my early teens, and it's easy to feel like reading through the Bible this year doesn't count as a "real" goal. But it does. It matters immensely that I continue in God's Word, though daily Bible reading and time in prayer have become such a normal part of my life. It matters that I keep that up, and that I keep focused on my relationship with God.

Sometimes goals for the plodder look like continuations of past goals, sometimes with additions, sometimes just the same. Goals don't have to be big and flashy to be worked towards.

The biggest thing to remember about goals is that no matter how easy the goal might seem on paper, you need God's help to achieve it. We need to be looking at our goals, not as something to achieve so we can point to ourselves and say "look what I did", but rather as something that drives us to God in humility, looking to accomplish each goal for His glory, to show off what He did in enabling us to meet each goal. 

So, here I am, plodding along towards my seemingly insignificant goals which may not seem impressive or important to the world, but if each is done to God's glory, each is significant and important to Him. And He is the truest judge of value.

When God's Will Gets Confusing...

It's Thursday night, and I should be asleep.

I was actually excited to be going to bed only a little bit later than I should have been, with a busy Friday of teaching ahead of me, full of exhausted little ones and the need for lots of energy and patience, topped by a busy afternoon and evening. But between being just a little too warm, there being a little more noise than normal in the house, and not being as exhausted as I had thought, (hmm...  and maybe just a little too much caffeine as well...) I just couldn't sleep. That's ok, I thought, At least I'm resting. But then my mind ramped up with ideas for how I could be spending this time that I wasn't spending sleeping... then a text came in from a friend with a burden, and I began praying as well as trying to sleep. All the while, thoughts for this post kept occurring, and I was trying to mentally file them away for later and get the rest that I was sure I needed.

Finally, I gave up trying to sleep, yielded to what I finally admitted was the Holy Spirit's prompting to get up and write this blog post, turned on the light, and got out my laptop.

That was when I saw the spider.

With a heavy sigh, I grabbed a tissue, moved a stool over to where the spider was, and climbed aboard. What am I doing, Lord? I wondered. I'm supposed to be sleeping, getting rest for the busy day of ministry You have called me to, but here I am, standing on tiptoe, precariously trying to kill a spider in the middle of the night, completely wide awake.

(for all you non-teachers out there, 10:30 on a Thursday night is, practically speaking, the middle of the night. Once school starts, my bedtime closely resembles that of my seven-year-old students whenever possible. 4:45 comes ridiculously quickly during the school year.)

I took a breath, and reached for the spider, which promptly performed evasive maneuvers, dropping out of sight behind some furniture. Now I am really awake.

Then my friend texted again, this time having received some very sad news. I knew that was partly why God allowed me to be awake right then, so I could be there for her and pray for her.

*       *       *

Sometimes God's will for us seems confusing. Sometimes we can think we have it all figured out and begin to expect things to go the way we have figured they should go, getting annoyed when God has other plans. (Like being awake at 11:00 writing a blog post on a school night...)

And yet, who are we to be annoyed at anything God plans? He knows and wants the very best for us, and when there are difficulties or God redirects us, they are always for our best good --even when (especially when) those unexpected turns of providence go against our view of what is "good" for us. (Like a good night's sleep before a challenging day.)

Even when you are surrendered to God's will for your life, it can be confusing trying to sort out the details of what God wants you to do. For example, my parents and I were cleaning out the garage last weekend and I suddenly found myself staring down at several boxes of my toys from childhood... you know, the special ones you save to pass along to the next generation.

When I packed those boxes before our move almost ten years ago, my impatient 20-year-old self never would have imagined that I would be opening them again at 30, with the odd task of deciding what to pass along to nieces and what to keep --whether to keep-- any for that "someday", "if I ever have kids".

But there I sat, pulling out toys, each one bringing so many memories to the surface, enjoying seeing them, but determined to be ruthlessly realistic, determined to keep only the ones that were the most special, that I would want to stay in the family regardless, asking God whether or not I should even keep any of it, or if I should try to pass all of it along.

But, despite the confusion of working to stay surrendered to God's present will for me while trying to be open to whatever the future might hold, not knowing what that might be or how to plan, the task of sorting and deciding was much less difficult than I had expected. And in the process, God allowed me to find a specific toy that sparked an idea which grew into a little story that I am now hoping to have my artist sister illustrate for me and turn into a children's picture book. --All because of that confusing process of unboxing, sorting, purging, and re-boxing.

I don't know yet what will come of that story, or of those freshly re-packed boxes full of memories, but I do know that when God's will gets confusing, the best --the only truly helpful thing-- is to take our eyes off our expectations or ideas of what God's will is or should be, and to submit to His good and perfect plan for that moment...and for all the moments after.

--Even at a quarter 'till midnight on a school night.

Finding God to be Enough in Times of Grief

Grief is difficult to describe. I have heard it likened to drowning, and the adjective “overwhelming” has been among the most common I have heard used to describe the emotional turmoil of loss. But how can one adequately describe such a powerful feeling? 

I attended a memorial service for a beloved uncle last week, and I must admit, I couldn’t think of a better way of describing grief than the definition the pastor used: that grief is a hole in one’s heart that is carried with us for the rest of our lives. 

I cried at my uncle’s service, as I have cried over the loss of other relatives: not because of any sadness for them, (they are enjoying the glories of heaven!) but because a part of my heart is empty. 

I have found that grief is not the all-consuming pit of despair I had expected it to be when viewing it through the eyes of childhood. It is more like a flash flood. It comes powerfully, in waves. 

When my Gramma died (my first “real” experience with grief), I cried a great deal in the first few days, but even during that first intense period of grief, the waves would come and go. It was not a steady stream of sorrow; and even now there are times when I see a picture of her, or hear someone say something she often said, or smell the scent of the hairspray she used, and all at once I feel that emptiness acutely and the flood of grief washes over me anew. 

For me, these floods are usually caused by or at least strengthened or prolonged by “nevermore” thoughts. For example, the day my uncle was put on hospice, Mommy asked me to bake a small apple pie for my uncle. I was happy to do so, but as I prepared to bake, I found myself overwhelmed with grief as the same idea raced again and again through my mind:

His last pie. 

 The last pie I will ever make him.

The last pie he will ever get to eat.

As it turned out, he actually never got to eat the pie I made; he went to heaven the next morning before the pie could be delivered.  But I think God intended the making of the pie to benefit me more than my uncle anyway. It made me come to terms with the reality of the coming loss before it was upon me.

When my Gramma died, the “nevermore” thought that was on auto repeat through my head as I drove home from the hospital (and many times after that) was that she never got to see me in a wedding dress. Oh, how she would have loved to! She delighted to see her grandkids all dressed up, and I used to stop by to see her whenever there was an occasion to dress up for. Several times in the first year after she went to heaven, I had the thought as I got ready for some special occasion, “I should stop by to see Gramma afterwards” and was struck with the thought that I never could do that again.

But despite these oh-so-poignant “nevermores”, I have found that God is enough, even in grief. In every area of loss, whether it be loss of our dearest people or dreams or health or plans of how our lives “should” be, God’s character never changes, and Romans 8:28 still applies.

In my few sorrows, I have learned that dealing with grief and loss is just like dealing with any other area of aching emptiness: the answer is surrender.

Now, before you tune me out for being unfeeling, know that I do acknowledge that grief is real, raw, and powerful. To say that the answer is surrender in no way diminishes the reality of grief. But God is as His Word says, “a very present help in trouble”. In fact, Psalm 46, the first verse of which contains that wonderful truth of God’s presence and support in trouble, goes on to describe earthquakes and mountains melting into the ocean and angry waves shaking even the mountains. Yet, the very next thought is “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.” (v.4) There is comfort to be found, yes and even gladness in the midst of such turmoil. The way to such peace and joy is found in verse 10: “Be still, and know that I am God”

The problem with my “nevermore” thoughts is that they presume to pass judgement on how things “should have been”, instead of accepting how God has allowed them to be.

It has well been said that “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”[i] But God is the Master of our reality. In times of grief, when the billows of sorrow and floods of “nevermores” overwhelm us, the choice to trust in God’s character and wisdom is crucial.

Think of Job. He suffered loss most of us will never come near to experiencing, but even in those first moments of grief and agony, he responded in a way God describes as being without sin.

Here is Job’s response: 

“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21)

These words have been quoted and held up as an example to suffering people ever since Job’s story was first told, but I want you to notice God’s view of them. The very next verse clearly states why it was that Job’s response was right:

“In all this, Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.” (Job 1:22)

Here’s where it hits me the hardest: Those “nevermores” I so readily wallow in are nothing more than thinly veiled complaints about what God has allowed. In other words, I am foolishly charging God with incompetence or negligence at best, and malice at worse. After all it is God’s “good and perfect” will we are arguing with. (Romans 12:2)

Godly grief acknowledges sorrow and the feelings of loss, but chooses gratitude over complaint, humble trust over bitterness, and hope over despair.

God has designed us to feel those empty places. But the reason He wants us to notice them is so that He can fill them. When my heart feels hollow, I must choose to cry out to God, for Scripture promises: “draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you.” (James 4:8) When I yield my sorrow and hurt to Him, I never cease to find that He is enough.

---

[i] John Greenleaf Whittier, “Maud Muller”

Casting out Fear

For many years now, I have struggled with fear. As a child, I was afraid of literally everything. Whether it was spiders, flies (they sounded like bees), the faucet that resembled a face, or the coat rack in the hallway which terrorized me in nightmares throughout my childhood; you name it, I was probably afraid of it. 

As I have grown and matured, my list of things that terrify me has shrunk considerably, but as I stare the possibility of living on my own squarely in the face, there is one fear I simply must conquer. --I absolutely dread being in the house by myself after dark. 

Now, being a grown-up sort of person, it does happen that I am at home by myself after dark periodically, and I have improved some since that first time when my parents were called away to the hospital and I stayed awake in terror all night till they got back. And it’s not as if I have any traumatic experience of bad things happening when I have stayed alone before. –I just have a very active imagination, and I was not discerning as to what I fed it with in my youth. 

So, I will be going along, minding my own business at home alone when suddenly a noise or random thought will trigger a memory of a scenario I have seen or heard of or read about and my mind is instantly planning my response to the  situation, even though it isn’t actually what is happening. Then my heart starts racing right along with my mind and then I suddenly notice every noise the house makes, each one triggering its own avalanche of what-ifs. 

Now, it might be argued that fear is a natural emotion, and that there’s nothing we can do about it. The vast number of commands in the Bible to “fear not” make it clear that God (who designed us) expects us to choose not to fear. For years, I have struggled to understand just how to do that.

Then at Family Camp this year our preacher made a statement that hit me so hard I was left nearly breathless at the simplicity and power of it. He said that the answer to fear is God.

Think about it. When we give in to fear, we are in fact choosing not to trust that God is able and willing to protect us. 

Up to this point, the main thing I have turned to as a way to stave off fear has been the television. I grew up with the television always on, and it is very difficult not to turn on the TV to “drown out” the noises that trigger the what-ifs. Interestingly enough, it doesn’t actually work. In fact, it makes it worse, because I will still think I hear something, but not be sure if I did or not because of the tv, and that triggers a whole new set of what-ifs.

I now realize that I was trusting the TV or other people to provide my sense of security, instead of simply trusting that in my need for security, as well as all else, God is enough.    

Can I say that again?

God is enough.

To be fearful in the face of the reality of His presence with me is to be like a small child, closing his eyes and believing that he cannot be seen. 

This weekend, my new determination to conquer fear was tested. It wasn’t a situation in which I was actually in danger, but I could have been, and the what-ifs began to pop into my mind. With the first what-if, I made a conscious choice not to follow that train of thought, and instead to direct my thoughts to God and the truth of His presence with me. At every step, there was a new tempting thought, and I had to decide again to fight it with truth. It was a hard battle, but it worked, and I got into my car feeling the freedom of having won a victory. 

Now, I have by no means arrived, and I will still have to battle, but I feel now that I know how to fight, and that victory is attainable with God’s help. 

I John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

God doesn’t want us to live in fear. He wants us to let His love for us cast out our fears.

A Stationary Place

Last week, my Sunday School teacher was teaching about the cloudy pillar and how it was used by God to guide His people. One of the applications he made resonated with me, and I thought perhaps you might benefit from it as I did.

In bringing some practical principles from the manner of God's leading the Israelites on their journey to the Promised Land, my teacher stated an obvious fact which I had never really thought about: Some times, God led the Israelites to a place for the purpose of staying awhile. These stationary places were always for a purpose, and the parallel can be aptly made to God's leading in our lives.

Though the manner of God's leading is different for us than for the Israelites (I haven't seen any cloudy pillars around lately), the fact of His leading is nevertheless the same. Just like the Israelites, sometimes God leads us to places in life where we are to pitch our tents and stay awhile.

I think I am in one of those stationary places, and have been for a little while, and for the most part I am enjoying the benefits and blessings of this stage of life, but just like with any stage of life, some days it's just hard.

It was in the aftermath of one of those particularly hard days that the statement about stationary places came to mind. It made me stop and acknowledge that yes, I was struggling, not with the place I'm camped in, but the fact that I'm still here with no change in sight.

This thought was discouraging at first, but then the Holy Spirit tugged on my heart, reminding me that there can be no joy in following unless I am surrendered to the wisdom of God's guidance.

Imagine the absurdity of going to a country you had never been before, joining a tour group, and spending the whole time saying to your neighbors: "I don't know about this route... I mean, I 've never been here before, but I'm sure we should have taken that road over there... it looks far more suitable to me."

Yet, that's exactly the absurdity of my inward bemoaning of my stationary place. I was behaving just like a little child, impatiently tugging at her parent's sleeve and saying, "Come on, let's go!"

That gentle call to surrender prompted me to humbly acknowledge that God is my Guide, and I can trust His leading, however long His loving hand might require me to stay still.

I must admit that my long talk with the Lord about this didn't change the circumstances that had made the day so difficult, and it still felt hard, but at the same time, I could take those feelings to God and rest in the peace of knowing that this was what God in His infinite and loving wisdom had chosen for me, and that, dear reader, has made all the difference.

After all...

There is no true joy without surrender.