Jesus Moved Into the Neighborhood

When the apostle John described the birth of Jesus, he put it this way, "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..."  The Message puts it this way, "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood."

Moved into the neighborhood.  I love that phrase.  I think of it often.  Imagine if Jesus lived next door.  I would love it if I could talk to him face to face over the fence.  Do you think he would get annoyed with us?  We're not always very good neighbors.  We never clean up our leaves.  I wonder if the most commonly requested miracle around the neighborhood would be melting the snow on the driveways and sidewalks?  Probably not.  We need Jesus for so much more than that.  Cancer, disease, sick children, infertility, miscarriages, hard hearts, broken marriages, abuse and dysfunction.  Yes, we need Jesus for so much more than for driveways and sidewalks.

Yesterday was my favorite day of the entire year.  It was the Sunday before Christmas.  The Christmas candlelight service.  Our whole church loves it.  It's a time where we come together as a church and celebrate when Jesus moved into the neighborhood.  It's not just about the performances, or the Christmas carols, or the songs, or even the candles.  It's about the presence of God that settles on us when we're together and the love we feel for one another.  I got up extra early that morning so that I could have plenty of time to do the extra things that I never have time to do.  But as usual, time got away from me and before I knew it, I was running behind.  And my girls were dawdling, and my son was sitting on the heat vent in his pj's refusing to move, and my husband was starting to yell.  And here we are, on the best day of the year, just the same old mess that we are every other day.  And I snap and say mean things and Matt answers back with mean things and I threaten to cancel the whole day.  We had just had a wonderful family day the day before, and this was supposed to be the pinnacle of Christmas time, and my family was ruining it...and I was ruining it.

The thing about Christmas is that's when Jesus moved into the neighborhood.  But, the thing about Easter is Jesus doesn't just live in the neighborhood anymore, He's moved into our very hearts.  In that moment of frustration with my family, I pushed Jesus out of my heart and I said, "I matter most.  This day is about me and my desires, so you all better shape up!"

Apologies and forgiveness took place in the van on the way to church.  I'm grateful for how quickly my family forgives me.  I'm also grateful for a church that I can walk into, knowing full well what kind of morning we've had, and still be loved and accepted.  I don't have to hide it.  I can openly cry tears over my sin in a service where I am reminded that we live in a war zone.  Not just a war "out there" somewhere, but a war right in my very own heart.  The heart where Jesus lives.  And after the service, the dear woman sitting next to me playfully offers me her sleeve to dry my tears.  And the woman on the other side of us is mopping up her tears as well, and she looks at me with no shame and says, "It got you too, huh?"

I am not ashamed to admit that I am in desperate need of Jesus.  I am a mess.  My family is a mess.  And, whether you want to admit it or not, you're a mess too.  We are all in desperate need of Jesus to move into the neighborhood of our hearts.  And that my friends, is what Christmas is really about.  My family does not have it all together this Christmas and neither does yours, but God is changing us and making us more like His Son, in His time and in His way.

Praying that Jesus moves into the neighborhood of your heart this Christmas.  Much love, from my family to yours!

When God changes your dream.

Twelve years ago, my dream came true and my heart shattered all at the same time.

All I ever dreamed about in my life was becoming a mother.  A wife and a mom.  That's it.  That's all I ever wanted to be.  When my son was born, my dream came true.  But, I soon learned that my dream wasn't going to be enough to make me happy.  I was still empty because I was still me.  In fact, I was more me than I had ever been.  I saw myself clearly for the first time.  The blinders over my eyes were gone and I saw how selfish and cruel I really was.  What kind of a person gets angry with a newborn for not sleeping?  What kind of a person is completely overwhelmed with the thought of having to clip a baby's fingernails?  What kind of a person feels completely rejected and worthless when she can't calm down a fussy baby.  I'll tell you what kind of person...  Me.  I very quickly learned that I was not up to the task of motherhood.

That's me and my first born son and the only way we got any sleep.

Ten years into my marriage, after a crushing blow, I learned I was not up to the task of being wife either.  My heart was broken and I didn't want to give anymore.

But here's the crazy thing.  When my dreams were shattered, my heart came alive.  For real.  When I saw myself for who I really was -  unloving, selfish, proud, and manipulative - I realized for the first time, my desperate need for God.  And that is when everything changed.  My eyes were opened to a whole new life.  I know it sounds weird.  I know it's hard to understand.  I'll do my best to explain it.

You see, I saw my Christian life as a magic formula.  If I did this, then God had to do this.  He owed it to me.  A+B=C.  But, when my life was shattered, and I saw myself clearly, I was able to see for the first time that everything I had was a gift.  I had earned none of it.  All of my righteousness, my right living, my following the rules, was nothing but filthy rags.  I had missed all of the graces that I had been showered with because I thought I deserved them.  I didn't think I needed grace.  I didn't even understand what it was!

The thing about me is, it's not enough for me to know this.  It's not enough for me to appreciate this and enjoy it.  I don't know why, but there is a burning desire in me for you to know it too.  I guess when my dream of perfect wife and mom was shattered, God replaced it with a new dream.  I long to make a difference.  I guess I kind of want to change the world.  It's why I do everything that I do.  I want you to know Jesus, the way I know him.  Not just to know him like you learn about him when you're little in Sunday School.  Although, that's a great start.  But to know what it's like to have a living, breathing, authentic relationship with him.  That's why I live this transparent, broken life that I do.  That's why I try hard not to hide my sin, why I share my life on facebook, why I write on this blog, why I teach the small group leadership class at church, and why I get up in front of our whole church and talk about my sin patterns.  Why would anybody in their right mind do those things?!  Well, I'm not in my right mind.  I am desperate.  Desperate for you to know this God that I am crazy in love with who forgives all my sin and loves me with an everlasting love.  I don't have to be anything that I'm not.  I just have to admit who I am without him, and rejoice in who I am with him.

Glimpses of Glory in the Middle of My Mess

At first, I didn't see it.  All I saw was ice hanging off my roof.  Evidence of how our house is falling apart little by little.  Evidence of the fall, of ruin, of helplessness.  But then, my sight shifted and I saw it.  How the ice glittered and sparkled.  All lit up like diamonds.

One thing about me, I love sparkly things.  Not over the top sequins and such.  But when nature sparkles, my heart sings!  When the sun hits lake Michigan and it sparkles and shines, something quakes inside me.  When I was a kid playing outside in the snow and it sparkled like diamonds, I would pretend that my back yard was full of diamonds.  I would look through the Witmark catalog and pretend that all the jewelry that was in it was actually a catalog of what my storage room contained and I would pick out what jewelry I wanted to wear that day and send a servant to go get it.  Downton Abby on steroids.

My life is nothing like Downton Abby.  Unless I was one of the kitchen maids.  My life at first glance, is not surrounded by beauty.  It's surrounded by laundry, dirty dishes, dust, pop tart wrappers, meal preparation messes, bills, and recently added dog poop.

Most of my life has been characterized by an accusation.  My heart has screamed this accusation at God and it echos in a vacant soul.  It goes something like this, "God plays favorites, and I am not one of them.  I have been deserted.  Nobody cares, least of all God.  Everybody else will get what they need, but never me.  There's nothing left for me.  God is not faithful.  I have to figure this out on my own."

You may have never known this about me.  I covered it up with lipstick and earrings, a pretty smile and a soft spoken voice.  I used to put on an impressive show.  But, inside I was screaming, "Why not me?  When is it ever gonna be me?"  

Recently, this attitude has crept back into my life.  The difficulties of life have hooked me again.  This attitude and belief is a well worn rut.  It's so easy to drift back in.  When I realized it, I did what I always do.  I take it to God.  I can't figure this stuff out on my own.  My heart is murky and I can't see the bottom.  I need his help to do that.  It's not as pretty as it sounds.  It's raw and ugly, but God can take it.  Moments after I poured my heart out to him, I read this...

"What I am trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God's giving.  People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know God and how he works.  Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.  You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.  Don't be afraid of missing out.  You're my dearest friends!  The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself."  Luke 12:29-31 from The Message.

When my kids were babies, sometimes they would get so worked up because of their hunger that even though I had the bottle fixed and in their mouths, they would still cry.  I'd have to jiggle it around in their mouths to get them to realize that there was finally something to suck on, something to satisfy.  That is what God is saying here.  We're so worked up focusing on what we don't have, that we don't even notice that God is right there with us, meeting all our needs, being our constant friend, giving us His very kingdom.

This is not Pollyanna theology here.  Life is messy and it hurts.  Sometimes there's not enough groceries left before the next paycheck comes.  Sometimes God doesn't heal the child you've been begging him to. Sometimes he let's the loved one die.  Sometimes you can't pay the bills.  Sometimes your new business venture fails.

Sara Groves in her song, "Open my Hands," puts it this way,

"I believe in a fountain that will never dry
Though I've thirsted and didn't have enough
Thirst is no measure of his faithfulness
He withholds no good thing from us
No good thing from us, no good thing from us

I will open my hands, will open my heart
I will open my hands, will open my heart
I am nodding my head an emphatic yes
To all that You have for me"

It takes a paradigm shift to see the truth.  It's about surrender.  Am I going to scream at God for what he hasn't given me, or am I going to open my hands and receive what he's given.  Am I going to focus on the ice on my roof, or the sparkles in the ice?  Am I going to focus on the dog poop, or the sweet dog that is so happy to lay on my lap?  The mounds of laundry, or the living, breathing, fun loving children that dirty those clothes?  None of this minimizes the damage to the roof, or the poop or the laundry.  It's all still there.  But God gives us glimpses of his glory in the middle of the mess.  Glimpses of his coming kingdom and it will far outweigh our troubles here.

A heart-shattered life.

God did it to me again.

Last week, I was pushed to my breaking point.  It's not the first time I've been here.  Not even close.  I can't even remember the exact circumstances, but I can be pretty sure it had something to do with a little girl with raven hair and gigantic brown eyes who was refusing to wear pants to school.  Her sensory issues were raging and making us all late for school, and mom's patience was running thin.  And then there's the boy who thinks that when things get tense it's a great idea to be sarcastic.  That'll lighten the mood!  Don't forget the 9 year old beauty who stares blankly into space instead of getting her winter gear on.

I try so hard to wear a brave face.  To be kind, patient and to know God is enough in the moment.  I want to do it right.  I don't want to point my finger at God.  I don't want to be angry with him.  I want to just quietly submit.  But God doesn't seem to let me do that.  He pushes, and he pushes.  He seems to want me to break.

That may not sound like God to you.  You may think I'm being blasphemous.  But, you may not understand how well I can fake it.  I have spent most of my life in hiding.  Hiding my feelings, emotions, and my sin.  I hid it so well, I didn't even see it.  I didn't even know who I was or what I was feeling.

God knows when I really have quietly submitted and when I'm just faking it.  And when I'm just faking it, he is faithful enough to keep pushing me until I break.  I'm not talking about losing it with my kids or my husband.  He doesn't want me sinning against them.  But what he does want is for me to be honest with him.  To fall on my face before him and admit that there is a slice of my heart that still hates him and wants what I want instead of what he wants.

When I finally give in and pour my heart out, it's almost like I can hear God breathe a sigh of relief.  He says, "Okay, now that you've admitted it, we can deal with it."  He cleans me up, stitches up my broken heart, and gives me a hug.  He reminds me again that he is enough, even when I don't believe it.  I can't do any of this on my own.  I need his help!  And he knows it.

Psalm 51:17 says, "The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit.  You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God."

The Message says it this way, "Going through the motions doesn't please you, a flawless performance is nothing to you.  I learned God-worship when my pride was shattered.  Heart-shattered lives ready for love don’t for a moment escape God’s notice."

Heart-shattered lives...  Yes, that pretty much describes it.  I am living a heart-shattered life.  I am so grateful that he doesn't miss it.  I am ready for his love, desperate for it in fact.