Transitioning from SROM

It's been a crazy journey these past two and a half years.

Ryan and I started feeling the Lord whisper that it would soon be time to leave SROM several months ago. In my heart and mind, I thought that meant we'd be transitioning in about a year or so. As January progressed, the Lord made it clear that, no, next fall was not His timing. Nor was May (my next thought). I had all but settled on telling my director that I would be leaving at the end of March, but it was immediately clear that March was still delaying too long. So, last Friday I met with my director and let him know that I would be leaving SROM at the end of this month. My two weeks' notice.

On one level, I have a pretty good idea of what this next season is going to look like. I will be working part-time for a pregnancy care clinic in Laramie for March and April, and I will move to full-time there in May. 

On another level, I have an idea of what I'd like this next season to involve, but I have no idea what this new season will actually be like. 

The phrase that I've had jostling around in my over-crowded brain these past few weeks has been to look for the gold in the every-day. My appetite for reading has voraciously returned, and I've been re-discovering deep truths about God, people, and myself in the pages of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I've been listening to lyrics more intentionally, and been encouraged and surprised by how they resonate with me. I've been struck by the beauty of people. And I've been reminded of the tender grace of God to highlight these things in my life. It's not always easy for me to see the beauty of what's directly in front of me, but it's a discipline I want to regain.

So, bear with me, friends. This season will be a lot of working to see gold. It might be refined, it might be raw. I think it's pretty neat either way.

On Faithfulness

I was reading through a previous blog that I had started in college. This post was written while I was in a discipleship program in Upstate New York, and reflecting on the lessons that God was revealing to me through day-to-day circumstances. I found it to be both encouraging and convicting, so I'm reposting it here.

God's faithfulness is not measured in one life, it is measured in His remembrance of His covenants. He is faithful, but I think many of His mercies and gifts are mislabeled and assigned as indicators of His faithfulness. Much of my mentality stems from bad habits and a twisted perspective from which I am still being delivered. Grace is still a new concept for me, and I will probably be learning about it and consumed by curiosity with it for quite some time. But, because of the mentality I grew up with, I think it is necessary for me to distinguish between the two concepts of "faithfulness" and "mercy."

Mercy: compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm; an event to be grateful for, especially because its occurrence prevents something unpleasant or provides relief from suffering.

The small town I currently call my home depends largely on year-round tourism; the summers bring hikers and lakeside vacationers, the winters bring skiers and snowmobilers. Winters without snow mean decreased tourism and the whole town suffers to the extent that snow is brought up as a prayer request frequently during our church service. Is waking up to three inches of fresh powder a sign of God's faithfulness? As tempting as it is to immediately begin praising God for His faithfulness in bringing the much-needed snow, I think it's important to instead recognize an answer to prayer like this as a mercy.

Maybe I'm simply criticizing semantics, but I do think we run the risk of an entitled attitude if we think that God's faithfulness is revealed by whether or not He answers our personal prayer requests. God does care about the little 'non-essential' prayers of His people, but He is by no means bound to answer them according to our wishes in order to prove that He is faithful. When I thank God for His faithfulness in providing a community of Christ-centered people to live with, is my deeper attitude one of deserving the community? "God is doing a great job of staying on top of giving me the things I deserve. Thanks, God!" To be honest, I am sinful and prideful enough to believe that on some level I do deserve the day-to-day blessings of life, and that God is really just giving me the due rewards of living a 'Christian' life.

As I sit here writing, a friend came in and gave me a coffee he had bought for me while we are both on a work break. I hadn't asked for the coffee, but he wanted to bless me with a surprise. (I was blessed.) Is the coffee an indicator of his being a faithful friend? By no means! But say this friend and I had been working together for a few months, and say he took delight in surprising me with a cup of delicious coffee from the local coffee shop each day. I get used to the gift, and begin to expect it as a sort of unspoken agreement in our friendship. Is he an unfaithful friend if he on day decides not to get coffee? Am I justified in being put off because he didn't give me what I had come to expect? The coffee was a gift, and it is no less of a gift the hundredth time it is given than it is the first. All that changes is my perspective. Of course, this analogy will fall apart, but the scenario stops me short when I really ask myself if I would be as surprised and thankful for coffee in a few months as I am sipping it right now. I take far too much for granted. I am all too easily tempted into believing that we all deserve the sun each morning, and that God is just holding up His end of our 'unspoken agreement' in each sunrise or answered prayer.

I want to cultivate an attitude of thankfulness. I want to see each morning as a mercy, and not as something I somehow deserve. I'm still seeking understanding in recognizing God's faithfulness, and it will most likely pop up as another blog post in the future. Either that or Grace. I'm still pretty captivated by Grace.

On Bravery

"You make me brave. You make me brave. You call me out beyond the shore into the waves."

I was listening to this song on and off throughout the week at work, and it wasn't until yesterday that the thought struck me...what do I consider being brave? Listening to this song conjures images of radical acts of selflessness and courage in my mind - overseas missions, innercity missions, standing for the truth and facing real persecution. But what does being brave mean to me in my every day life?

Is it brave to love, support, and submit to my husband when we can't reach an agreement?

Is it brave to offer tea and a place to cry to a friend who has been hurt?

Is it brave to honor those in authority over me?

Is it brave to offer my best work each day at my 8-5 desk job?

Is it brave to love well?

Is it brave to act in obedience, even when I'm bitterly disappointed by giving something up?

Is it brave to raise a family and teach them to love Jesus and to obey His Word?

Is it brave to tithe faithfully?

Is it brave to persevere when I feel taken for granted?

Personally, I see great bravery in people in my life on a daily basis. Consistent, quiet, faithful bravery. I see bravery lived out without calling attention to itself. I see bravery lived out as people choose an intentional life in the face of a world that applauds the easy superficiality. I see my siblings choosing to be parents rather than buddies to their kids. I see my father choosing to work long hours with excellence and integrity. I see my mother choosing to speak hard truths with much love. I see my husband humbly acknowledging when he is wrong, and being willing to grow and change. I see my friends standing for truth in small things that seem easier to compromise. I see fierce love for the orphans, the widows, the outcast, the slandered, the wronged, the forgotten. I see great bravery all around me, most of it stemming from obedience to the One who calls us to live a life that is radically different from the world around us.

On Joy

This draft has been sitting on my heart for a few weeks. It's vulnerable for me to write about hard things, and it's easy for me to worry over who this might be forwarded on to. But hard things are real, and real things can lead to deep lessons, and deep lessons are worth sharing. Right? So, here's my heart.

The past few weeks I've been thinking quite a bit about Joy. I'll admit that this season of life for me has been discouraging. I've been feeling tired, discouraged, accused, distrusted, burdened, and weary. I'm so weary. I think only recently I've realized how worn down I've become. But in the midst of this heaviness, I'm grateful for moments of refreshment and restoration. I've felt rebuilt and restored as I've gotten to meet up with old friends and new family. I've had sweet times on sunny porches that wind up with confessions of hurt that lead to healing tears. I've been able to laugh from my toes while sharing salsa and seltzer with dear women in my life here. I've glowed with the feeling of being so loved with kisses on the temple for no reason whatsoever. I've been reminded of the beauty of autumn colors: deep, rich, muted golds and greens and maroons. I've felt at peace in the wilderness, and I've been reminded of the ways God speaks to me there. I've been reminded of how much I love writing and reading words. I've snuggled up with old and new friends with s'mores around a fire. I've been working on engaging in spontaneous time with friends, and been surprised by how easy it can be to enjoy moments that aren't scheduled (this is big for me). I've become more and more grateful for my husband and the patient love he shows me each day. I milked a goat. (See? Spontaneity.) I've learned new games and been reminded of old favorites. I've taken small risks and have received sweet joys.


I've been so hungry for community, but hesitant to seek it for a lot of different reasons. There are large parts of my heart that are still sore from recent experiences, and the temptation is to let those parts harden. And, if I'm honest with myself, I can see that I've let those parts harden to some measure because I've given up on community for the past few months. I haven't been seeking community, and I've been slowly hardening the parts of my heart that have been hurt. Not in an antagonistic, angry, or bitter way, but definitely in a defensive measure to protect my heart. 

But even as I try to close myself off, God is rescuing me from myself and from these reclusive tendencies. He's been sending me reminders of joy and healing my perspective of community through...community. There is something so deeply necessary about friendship without an agenda. I am being reminded of how to participate in relationship without looking for or assuming an agenda in the other person, and I'm finding such healing and joy in the process. I've said before that we experience celebration to the degree that we experience grief, and I'm learning how applicable that core thought is across relationships as well: I can only heal to the degree that I am vulnerable, as hard as that vulnerability might feel after being hurt. The sweetness of Joy is so strengthening in heavy times, but I can only experience the joy of community to the degree that I'm willing to be vulnerable. 

I am still very much in the process of learning these lessons, and of being able to (or willing to) articulate them to others. But I think they're worth looking into.

Maundy Thursday

Lent is my favorite season in the liturgical calendar. I love the extended time to focus on the life, ministry, and death of Christ. And I love the anticipation that it builds toward celebrating the Resurrection! It can be such a beautiful season of fasting, grieving, and thorough celebration.

To be honest, this season of Lent hasn't felt very focused for me. Ryan and I were out of town for nearly every weekend in March, which put our search for a church home in Laramie on hold for a bit longer than we were expecting. In addition to that, work at SROM has been incredibly full and a little overwhelming for me at times. It's been a hard season to focus! But I'm realizing that I am thankful for two things: one, that my salvation is not based on whether or not I can keep myself focused and fasting for forty days. And, two, that there is still time to experience some of the richness of this season! God is so good like that, isn't He? To remind us of things that we've distracted ourselves from in enough time to still get to experience them! What a gift!

I pray that in this weekend is a time of rest and reflection. I pray for the grace to sit at the feet of my Lord and meditate on His sacrifice. I pray for a deeper understanding of the Resurrection, and an overwhelming joy and celebration on Sunday!
 

Jehovah Jireh

"Jehovah Jireh

My Provider

His grace is sufficient for me"

 

Ryan and I were in San Fransisco last week for his brother's wedding (which was spectacular!) and then spent the next few days exploring. We were so grateful to get to spend time with his family in California, and we couldn't be happier for Eric and Jenn! 

(my best man)

After the wedding on Saturday, we spent the next Sunday and Monday hanging out with his family and exploring local vineyards, olive oil presses, and the bay area of San Fransisco. We got a little taste of California's redwoods on Monday morning, which got us even more excited for Yosemite! We made it to the park on Tuesday evening, and even squeezed in a little hike after setting up camp Tuesday night. (We probably could have hiked for longer if I hadn't stopped so often to gape at the gorgeous views and take pictures of everything.)

 

Wednesday we hiked up the Mist Trail to Vernal and Nevada falls. We stopped for lunch at the top of Nevada Falls, and reconsidered our options for the rest of the day. Though we had initially thought of just hiking to the waterfalls, we changed our itinerary and decided to continue on the Muir Trail up to Glacier Point. It was a long, hot, dry hike, but the views were absolutely spectacular. The hike up the Panorama Trail gave us an incredible perspective, and we could see Half Dome, all of Vernal and Nevada Falls, and Illilouette Falls. From Glacier Point, we could see nearly the entire valley. It was well worth the 16+ miles and staggering back to camp after dark!

 

We slept in on Thursday morning, packed up camp, did a few quick (paved) trails to Lower Yosemite Falls and Bridal Veil Falls, and said goodbye to Yosemite. We had been hoping to spend some time in the Tahoe National Forest, but realized that it would take us way further out of our way than we had initially planned for. So we stopped at Lake Tahoe for a few hours instead!

Representing SROM at Lake Tahoe!

We drove across most of Nevada on Friday, and stopped for dinner in the little town of Wendover, just west of the Salt Flats of Utah. When we got back on the one-way section of I-80 after dinner, the dreaded engine light came on and the engine gauge indicated that we were in danger of overheating. We pulled over, popped the hood, and let the engine cool down a bit. Ryan checked the coolant levels and we were completely dry...it had sprayed out and was leaking out the bottom of the car. Thankfully we had filled up our water bottles before we had left that morning, so we had plenty of water to use until we could make it to a gas station (54 miles away) for coolant. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. We started driving again, and almost immediately had to pull over again. The engine was still indicating dangerously high temperatures. As it turns out, the radiator hose had separated from the radiator, and all of our water had drained out. We had the Jeep towed to a local mechanic in Wendover and booked a hotel for the night. After the mechanic had taken a look at it, he showed Ryan and I that it wasn't as simple as replacing the radiator hose; the piece of the radiator that connects to the hose had completely melted off, and we would need to replace the entire radiator. He said he had found one at the local junkyard that seemed like it would work, and that he still would probably be able to get us on the road by closing time (3:00pm). If the one from the junkyard couldn't work, the mechanic said he could order one and have it in Wendover by Tuesday. (Tuesday!!)

(there's just something poetic about being broken down in the desert)

Long story short, the junkyard radiator was just different enough that it couldn't work. Ryan and I rented a car, drove to Salt Lake City, and searched for a radiator there. The parts store that had initially said they had the correct radiator had the same model as the junkyard: no good for us. We finally found a usable radiator in the little town of Toole, and made it back to Wendover at around 4:00pm. The mechanic (who I now believe is a chain-smoking angel on earth) stayed late in order to get the radiator in our Jeep and get us on the road!

As we were (finally) driving back to Wyoming, I had a lot of time to think about God and His provision. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. God provided a radiator and a skilled (and generous) mechanic for us in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada! But that is not what makes God my Provider. 

God is my Provider because He has provided an atonement for my sin and a way back to restored relationship with Him. As the season of Lent draws to a close, I'm so grateful for this reminder! Yes, God has and continues to provide for Ryan and I. On a very tangible level, I get to continue to work at SROM because God provides financial support for me each and every month! But I think I can get too used to the idea that God provides what I think I need on a day-to-day basis, and I forget that the greatest demonstration of His provision is first and foremost that He provided a way for this sinner to return to Him. If we had been stuck in Wendover for a year, God would still be Provider. If all of my monthly financial support stopped today, God would still be Provider. If all of my perceived needs were never met again, God would still be Provider.

It's a hard concept for me to wrestle around in my mind. I confess, I think I've become comfortable. I've become accustomed to having enough to eat and a safe place to live; I'm accustomed to having my basic needs met. And while I absolutely recognize that it is all from God's hand that these things come, I'm tempted to base my understanding of His provision on whether or not my needs are being met. As Ryan and I were searching for a radiator, I confess being a little frustrated with God: "Why haven't You provided one yet? Are You going to provide in my timing, or am I going to have to figure this one out myself?" I began to wane in my trust of His provision because I was too narrowly focused on the here and now. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. His grace is sufficient for me. His grace is sufficient for me.

His grace is sufficient for me. In His grace, He provided a perfect Savior for me. If I don't see that as enough, I am woefully underestimating my own sinfulness and His righteousness.

Lord, You are my Provider. You provided a way where there was none. You provided a perfect sacrifice through Jesus, and You provide grace for each day. Thank You. And thank You for little day-to-day reminders of Your total provision. You are so Good. You are so Good to me.

Justice is not my Savior

"When through grace in Christ our trust is,

Justice smiles and asks no more."

-- John Newton, Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder

All too often I find myself putting my faith and hope in Justice. I expect the scales to be blind and unbiased, and yet I expect Justice to be on my side. I expect Justice to agree with me and to help me determine my morality. I want Justice to direct me, guide me, and gently correct me when I err. I want Justice to be swift when I feel wronged, but slow to anger against me when I have a good excuse.

The problem with this is that Justice does none of those things. Justice does not gently correct, it demands an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Justice does not determine my morality, unless my morality is to do only that for which I am rewarded and avoid doing that for which I will be punished. Justice--true Justice--shows no favoritism, holds no record of past merits to bail one out of present infractions; Justice can show no partiality, no grace, and will not acknowledge extenuating circumstances.

If I turn to Justice as my savior, Justice rightly condemns me before a perfect God. If I turn to Justice as my savior, I am bitterly disappointed because of the evil I see in this world. Justice isn't big enough to be my savior.

My Savior is Just, but He is also Grace, Patience, and Love. My Savior is firm in His correction, but He is also gentle. My Savior is Good, and He is eternal. He will bring Justice, but He has first extended His hand in friendship. My Savior loves and seeks the orphan, the widow, the downtrodden, the hurting; my Savior loves and seeks me. My Savior trusts me to seek others on His behalf. My Savior is my true and lasting hope. My Savior is forgiving. My Savior is my Guide, and He sticks with me even when I ignore His direction and cry out against the consequences of my stubborn choices. My Savior shows me how to extend grace, patience, and love to those that I would rather throw at the feet of Justice.

My Savior is not a doormat. He will not tolerate the injustice of this world for long. He will come and He will set things right in His kingdom. My Savior is strong, and He is fierce. He has all authority in Heaven and on Earth, and He will come in power to exercise it. 

And yet, my Savior waits. He waits so that He may cover yet more people with His righteousness before He comes wielding true Justice. He waits so that more may joyfully sing, 'when through grace in Christ our trust is, Justice smiles and asks no more.' 

And so I am torn between the two: I desire for Christ to come in glory, which is better by far. But He deems it more necessary for us that He waits. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you to know Him and make Him known.

Fullness

My life is messy. It is not perfect. It is not glamorous. In the virtual world of curated social media, my life is not even that photogenic. But, little by little, I'm learning how to live a full life.

My life is full. It is filled with working at a job that I love. It is filled with celebrating the little victories and little wins that happen every week. It is filled with hot beverages. It is filled with quiet moments on the couch. It is filled with laundry and cleaning and endless dishes. It is filled with joy. It is filled with music. It is filled with laughter and smiles and tears and silence. It is filled with empty journals. My life is filled with eye contact. It is filled with small talk and big talk. It is filled with editing. It is filled with grocery shopping and recipe hunting. It is filled with unhealthy comparison. It is filled with tender moments. My life is filled with words, both written and spoken. It is filled with doubt and questions. My life is filled with hugs. It is filled with staring blankly into space. It is filled with ambition that needs direction. It is filled with people. It is a messy, imperfect life. And it is full of love. 

Mine is a life in progress. I don't have all the answers, and I probably never will, but I'm learning to articulate the things I know and to appreciate the perspective that experience gives me. I'm learning to change the things I don't like, and make myself aware of the things I do like. I'm learning again to be disciplined - personally, professionally, and spiritually. I'm learning to stop comparing my life to others I see, and to make this life be the kind that I want to live. And I'm learning how to let people into the messiness and unfinished-ness.

On Receiving Love

"Love is the expression of the one who loves, not of the one who is loved.  Those who think they can love only the people they prefer do not love at all.  Love discovers truths about individuals that others cannot see."

-Soren Kierkegaard 

A coworker shared this quote with me several months ago, and I've had it posted on my desk for so long that I have ceased to notice it's there.  Thankfully it stuck in my brain enough to be recalled the past few days as I've been thinking about love and newly-wedded bliss.

Last night Ryan and I celebrated our first month of marriage, and even though it's been only one month I have realized quite a bit about myself...particularly how difficult it is for me to simply receive love.  Ryan is a very patient man and very good at reminding me that he loves me for who I am, not for the things I do.  His love for me is reassuring because I know him to be a consistent, faithful, man.  The more I know him, the more I can trust his love.  

If Kierkegaard is right about love (and he generally knew what he was talking about), love is an expression more than it is a reflection.  Ryan's love for me is an expression of who he is, not a reflection of who I am.  The more I learn about who Ryan is, the way he lives day-to-day life, the little quirks that make him who he is, the more I learn about how he loves me.  Additionally, the more I get to know Ryan, the more he is able to teach me how to love him.  (There is always a small part of me that worries that I'm not doing enough to let him know how much I love him, how interested in him I am, or how much I want to learn more about him.  I want to know him better because I want to love him better because I already love him so much!)

Because marriage is a metaphor for how Christ loves the Church, and because I tend to learn best in metaphors, I extrapolate much in regards to my relationship with Christ from my marriage.  It's always been difficult for me to receive the unconditional, priceless grace and love of God.  For a long time I lived under self-imposed pressure to prove to God how much I loved Him and how much I valued His grace and mercy.  To be honest, I didn't really understand His heart and what He desires of us, so I was unable to receive His love or truly love Him back.  But God's love for me is an expression of who he is, not a reflection of who I am.  God loves me perfectly, purely, constantly because He is Perfect, Pure, and Constant.  If I want to get to know God more (which I do!) I need to begin by letting go of my preconceived notions of who He is and learn about who He actually is through His love.

1 John  4:7-12 gives us a glimpse into this mystery:

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God.  Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.  This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.  This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.  Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.  No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

"No one has ever seen God: but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us."  We learn more about who God is by expressing His love to others in our lives.  And, in so doing, that Love changes us and is "made complete in us."

I wish I understood this better.  The more I wrestle with this concept of love, the more I realize that I don't get it.  In order to understand God more, I need to receive His love more fully...but in order to receive His love more fully, I need to first express that love to others?  Or is it that in seeking to love others that I learn more about who God is because I understand the nature of His love better as I realize that He is much better at loving the unlovable than I am?  Is it in realizing my own shortcomings of love that I realize the vast perfection of His love?  All of the above?

Am I really surprised that I'm realizing how little I know about love after a month of being married?  Nope.  Just scratching the surface.  But I am excited to continue to learn about the connection between giving and receiving love and how it informs the "discovery of truths about individuals that others cannot see."  And I am thankful that I have a very patient husband and an infinitely more patient Savior to take this journey with me.

Obedience Without an Agenda

Last weekend I was flipping through Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest, one of my absolute favorite devotionals.  One of the ideas that jumped out to me was exposed the mentality that if I hear God and I obey His calling, He will make me successful.  God's ultimate purpose in giving me a command must be my success, right?  (Or, if the concept of "success" has negative connotations, I can easily substitute "fruitfulness."  God's ultimate purpose in giving me a command must be my fruitfulness, right?)

I think this expectation is much more present in my life than I realize.  I am willing to take great risks for God because of the underlying assumption that success or 'fruit' is on the immediate other side.  "Lord, you want me to move out to Wyoming to work without a salary for a non-profit outdoor ministry?  Awesome!!  You must have a ton of immediately-gratifying work for me to do!"  It sometimes works that way, and it's great when it does!  The problem is that I quickly expect things to always be that way.  I grow frustrated and feel unfulfilled when my obedience to God doesn't lead to me feeling immediately happy, successful, or useful.

God is concerned with our holiness, not simply our fruitfulness.  Fruit overflows from holiness, but it can never be the other way around.  Fruit produced by my own strength or for my own agenda quickly rots.

There are a lot of strong commands regarding bearing fruit in Jesus' teachings (Matthew 3:10, Matthew 7:16-20, Matthew 21:43, Luke 3:8-9, etc.), so I don't want to belittle the importance of bearing good fruit.  I recognize that it is so important to "let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds [good fruit] and glorify your Father in heaven."  (Matthew 5:16)  Fruit is important! but it is not the most important.  Jesus gives us a sobering reminder in John 15: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. [...] Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."  (ESV)  I've written on this before, but it is still something I so quickly forget:

God calls us to obedience so that we may abide with Him.  It is through our abiding with Him that He brings about holiness in our lives.

Obedience is the means to the end of intimacy with our Savior, our Lord, our King.  Fruitfulness or success can never be our ultimate end for obedience.  If fruitfulness or success is the end that I'm seeking, I've made fruit the object of my worship...my idol.  I've focused more on my sacrifice than the One to whom I offer it.  I'm more concerned with what I think the Lord wants than with patiently waiting and continuing with faithful obedience, regardless of how long it takes for Him to reveal His purposes.

Are we really so foolish that we can think to manipulate the Almighty by obeying Him with our own agenda in our hearts?  "God, I will obey You so that You can bring about the results I desire."  Lord, teach me to obey You without an agenda!  Teach me to obey You with a heart that desires intimacy with You above all else.  Give me a heart that rejoices in fruit, but that does not turn to the fruit for satisfaction and affirmation.  Give me a craving for intimacy with You that leads to holiness; guard me from feeling that fruit entitles me to holiness or intimacy with You.  It is by Grace alone that I can abide with You.  Thank You for Your Grace!

Keeping the Soil Fertile

A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none.  And he said to the vinedresser, 'Look, for three years now I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I find none.  Cut it down.  Why should it use up the ground?'  And he answered him, 'Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure.  Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'  (Luke 13:6-9, ESV)

It's amazing to reflect on how easy it is for me to see the potential in others, but then how quickly  I tend to give up on myself.  When talking through a dry season with a friend, I can so clearly see how God is working in them to will and act according to His good purpose; but when processing through my own dry season, I lose sight of any progress and can quickly sink into a sort of spiritual apathy.  

I can't expect to be growing and able to produce much fruit if I'm not taking in the necessary nutrients!  Much like the vinedresser from the parable above, I have to tend to the soil first with the faith that the fruit will come.  Lack of fruit is the sign that something is wrong, but what is the appropriate response to that sign?

In times of spiritual apathy the easy choice is to focus on my lack of fruit (the lack of joy, the lack of caring, the lack of any wisdom to give to others in my life, etc.) and by so doing to let that discouragement drive me deeper into apathy, eventually leading to an ever-increasing cycle of despair, apathy, discouragement, and depression.  I need the reminder to 'tend to my soil,' as it were: to fill my soul and spirit by spending time with my Gardener.  My job is not to try and create something from nothing by striving to produce fruit without fertilized soil; my job is to take in the nutrients from my Father, Gardener, and Friend.  He is the One who created healthy trees to naturally produce good fruit, and He is the One who will work in my life to bring 'good fruit' in my life.  He is my Source.  If I am connected to Him, the dry season will pass, the apathy will lift, and the fruit will come.  

Is this to say that I have no responsibility in the process?  By no means!  I do have a responsibility!  But if I try to produce fruit, I'm in essence taking glory from God because I'm claiming that I can do what He does of my own strength.  Yes, Jesus tells His followers that "by their fruit" you can distinguish good teachers from bad.  But He doesn't say "by their fruit you will recognize them, so worry about the fruit you bear."  He says "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. [...] Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."  (John 15:1, 5, ESV)  The command is to "abide in me," 'find your nutrients in Me, let Me fill your soil with good things.'  I am to be intentional about 'tending the soil' and making sure it is full of good things rather than letting it fill up with unhealthy, contentious things.  Where does my mind drift when I don't have anything to occupy it?  What thoughts or feelings am I entertaining?  Am I choosing to devote my mental and emotional energy to things that are of God, or am I letting my sinful desires creep in and take up residence?  Am I seeking nutrients, or am I seeking to produce my own fruit?  My own fruit will inevitably sour and rot.  The fruit that God produces in me will last.  May I be a tree that naturally produces God-glorifying fruit.

Reflections on Lent

From what I can tell, the season of Lent often gets a bad reputation for being legalistic, contrived, and a contributor to a works-based righteousness mentality.  I agree that we need to avoid legalism and going through the motions without engaging at a heart level.  I agree that we need to avoid works-based righteousness and to avoid seeing Lent as a means to 'earn' our way to holiness.  But the same can be true of any of the spiritual disciplines we practice at any point in time!  We need to avoid throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

There are absolutely times that I don't feel like fasting, or reading my Bible, or praying, or worshiping, or any other of the spiritual disciplines.  There are times when it feels like I'm going through the motions and when the actions that I do are stale.  There are times when my relationship with God feels distant and I feel apathetic.  There are times when everything about following Christ feels empty.  There are times when my relationship with God is incredibly fulfilling and I feel so satisfied in Him!  There are times when all I want to do is rejoice in who He is and what He has done.  There are times when my relationship with Jesus brings me such amazing Joy!  Feelings can be great!

But Love is not a feeling.

My relationship with Christ is not based on how I feel, much in the same way that my relationship with family and loved ones is not based on how I feel toward them at any given moment.  If those relationships were based on feelings, I would give up every time things became difficult, or communication was stressful, or I was dissatisfied or disappointed or tired or hungry.  My feelings are fickle!  I can't base my human relationships on how I feel, so why is that mentality so prevalent in regards to a relationship with God?  

Love is not a feeling, it is a choice.  I choose to stick with my family through the hard times (and by the grace of God they stick with me!) knowing that those hard times do pass.  When I tell someone that I love them, I'm reaffirming my commitment to them and to the relationship between us.  When a relationship is damaged I might not necessarily feel like putting forth the effort to mend it, but unless something changes the relationship will continue to grow distant.  By putting my own feelings aside and meeting the other person wherever they may be, I'm showing them the depth of my love.  I'm not trying to prove that I love them, but I am acting out that love.

When I feel distant from God and that relationship feels empty, I need to discipline myself to continue to pray, to continue to read His Word, and to continue to seek Him.  It is the times when those feelings are gone that I need to press in and practice spiritual disciplines the most.  When those feelings are gone and I still press in to God, I'm saying (to myself almost more than to God) that He is more important to me than the way that I feel; that He is more constant than my immediate emotional state of being; that relationship with Him is worth the effort even if I don't see immediate results.  

God has already made the ultimate display of Love in the life, ministry, and sacrifice of Christ Jesus.  He has already met us where we were (and continues to meet us where we are) that we may be reconciled to Him and know His great Love.  Therefore, when I feel emptiness, when I feel distance, when I feel stale and apathetic toward God, it is because of the state of my own heart, not because He has failed me in some way.  It is because I have grown complacent, or prideful, or self-satisfied, or entitled, or any number of things that I gravitate toward naturally.  I need the outside structure of disciplines - of Lent - to keep my own feelings in their proper place.  

Lord, please use this season of Lent to draw me closer to You.  Remind me that my relationship with you is garnished by feelings, but that those feelings do not make up the substance of our relationship.  Remind me to seek You in the faith that You are always there and that You desire to be found by me.  I pray that You would draw me into deeper relationship with You, and that You would give me the grace to continue to seek You even when I don't feel like it.  I love You, Lord.

Transitions and Missions

It would be difficult to explain where I am going without first describing where I have been, and neither would make sense without God.

I graduated from a small, Christian, liberal-arts college in 2011.  I spent the year after graduation in a small town in Upstate New York with a group of 19 other students in a discipleship program called LIFT.  I entered the program as a secretly arrogant perfectionist intent on earning my way to grace, and I graduated with a little less pride in my own ability and a little more confidence in God's delight, love, and direction for my life.  The Lord put an end to my striving for acceptance and approval, and He let me rest in the knowledge that--greater than all of the friendships, abilities, and gifts he has given me--His love is enough.  As simple as this sounds, it has changed my life.  It has changed the way I interact with those around me and how I use the abilities He has given me, and the ongoing realization of His love has given me a beautiful freedom to explore who God has created me to be.  

During my second semester of LIFT, I applied for and was accepted to the Outdoor Leadership Masters Program at Denver Seminary.  I wanted to prepare to disciple others in the same way that I had been discipled at LIFT, and I figured a graduate degree was a good place to start.  I deferred my enrollment to spend one last year at home with my family and to start saving for tuition.  And thus began my year of waiting.  

I do not wait well, I am discovering.  I value efficiency, and I like to contribute and feel productive.  This past year has needled me in all of these areas.  In short:  I returned from Upstate New York in September; I had corrective eye surgery in November and could not function for 2-3 weeks due to extreme light sensitivity; I broke my ankle in December, but didn't realize that it was broken and required surgery until February; I was unable to walk by myself until March; and I had follow-up eye surgery in April.  The first half of my transitional year turned out to be much more sedentary than I had initially imagined.  Time and time again I found myself stymied in finding value in my ability to produce; God was gently reminding me that it's not what I do but who I am that matters the most.  Yes, what I do and how I use the things He has given me is immensely important, but it all means nothing if I lose who I am in the process.  (And don't think that this year has been all rough...a lot of really wonderful, unexpected things have been happening as well!)

In May I traveled to Utah and Colorado with a few college friends, and had the opportunity to stop by Denver Seminary's campus.  I chatted with my admissions counselor and my financial aid advisor, and I got to stop in and visit some apartments to look at signing a lease.  As I was walking around and taking it all in, envisioning myself sitting in classes in the fall, I realized that I wasn't excited about it.  I had been praying for confirmation and direction as I drove out, and I came away with more doubt and questions than answers.  I hate using the phrase "I just didn't have peace about it..." but things truly did not sit well with me.  I talked through different questions and options with mentors in my life, and I decided to apply for a position with Solid Rock Outdoor Ministries.  After an encouraging phone interview and a lengthy Skype interview, I was offered a full-time position working in the course management area for SROM!  It's difficult to convey excitement, relief, joy, etc. in writing without endless exclamation marks, but just try to imagine it with me.

And that's where I sit now.  I'm preparing for the Wilderness Ministry Professional Course, a prerequisite course for all SROM full-time staff, which starts August 21st.  If I can gather $1,200 in monthly support by then, I'll stay out in Laramie and continue on as a staff member.  The next two months are going to be full of prayer, packing, and support letters!  I will continue to update this blog with prayer requests and hopefully an entertaining anecdote or two as I figure out what this journey is that the Lord has for me.  (I promise I'll try to keep it shorter in the future.)  As for now, please join with me in praying for a support network (a prayer support network as well as a financial support network), logistics as I pack and prepare to move, and wisdom to end my time at home well.  And, as always, please pray that I rely on Christ's grace and direction more than my own heart's leading.

If you have any questions, feel free to email me!  It may take me a few days to get back to you, but I would love to connect!  

Blessings,
Olivia