Above and Beyond

"I have seen their ways, but I will heal them; I will guide them and restore comfort to them, creating praise on the lips of the mourners in Israel. Peace, peace to those far and near, says the Lord. And I will heal them."

Isaiah 57:18-19

This morning as I read about God's compassion towards Israel and his great patience with their wayward hearts, I was moved to think that he still longed for wholeness for his people. That he wasn't done with them in spite of their habitual rebellion. He not only saves them from their own self destruction, but promises to heal, restore comfort, grant peace, and guide them. Talk about going above and beyond.

And while he was the God of the Israelites thousands of years ago as described by Isaiah, he is also my God, with the same olive branch extended -- ready to heal, eager to restore, providing the way. I texted a portion of these verses to my friend, Kristen, earlier. A young, beautiful, single mom, recently diagnosed with MS. Faced with many overwhelming circumstances at once, this promise in Isaiah is hers. Healing will come as will comfort and guidance from a God tender enough to be involved in her details.

May his guidance, peace, and healing be evident to each of us today -- finding us marked by this backwards, compelling God and ready to restore.

O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I'm constrained to be!

Let thy goodness, like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

Prone to leave the God I love;

Here's my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for thy courts above.

I mean, what if?

The Work of Feeling

Last week, I was emailing back and forth with a friend. She was expressing an area in her life causing frustration while simultaneously trying to talk herself, or perhaps more accurately, bible verse herself, out of her hurt feelings.

As I read her circumstance and also her determination to not be affected by it, I was reminded of myself. How I often convinced myself to not feel the full extent of a situation, but instead rely on my knowledge of spiritual jargon to keep the inner peace -- mistakenly and pridefully believing my knowledge alone should preserve me from injury. I would even rationalize that if I admitted feeling hurt, jealousy, despair, etc., then I probably didn't believe my neat little answers.

Leaving me unraveled. Exposed even.

No thank you.

And as I implemented this defunct, circular line of reasoning, I unknowingly built a prideful fortress of biblical mantras and self sufficiency, and audaciously claimed it as God's protection of my confused heart.

Yet in reality, it was just my own flawed defense that kept me looking like a nice enough girl but in essence, I was a thief bent on robbing

myself of real, compelling life. A slow, festering wound I was; unwilling to get past myself to heal.

Laboring towards wholeness has always been the story of redemption. While limping around as a fractured facade of sufficiency is the same old worn out saga of deception. A repressed and continuous beating of sorts.

Thankfully though, somewhere along the line, I decided to stop beating myself. After some years of subconsciously hating my own guts, combined with numerous failed self pep talks, spiraling circumstances, wise professional counsel, and friends and family that have wisdom well beyond mine, I learned to extend grace to even a wretch like me. And since grace tends to evoke feeling, I learned to feel fully, even, if it felt quite horrible.

I decided identifying with Christ mandates feeling.

Even the scary, uncontrollable ones I try desperately to avoid. Which, incidentally, are the ones that often make me most relatable, most honest, most real -- most like him.

For he felt deeply. Far beyond my own limitations in fact, and experienced the heights of ecstatic joy mingled with the excruciating depths of anguish.

And I can't escape his call to be like him.

My email response to my friend that follows was a needed exercise for myself in articulating truth that after years of defensiveness God graciously settled on my own heart and mind:

"...it is OK to feel though...remember that. You can feel disappointed or mad...God knows...I just always have to remind myself it's what I do with the feelings that matter...so when I get frustrated or fearful or insecure or disappointed...do I let those feelings identify me or do I let Christ identify me? Unfortunately, it is sometimes the former...but in God's steadiness and grace...I am growing more and more to where I know my home is the latter...it's Christ...not insecurity...nor fear...or jealously...or even my sick, sneaky pride...it's just and thankfully him. Praying that for you now too.

...that we might be "rooted and established in love...and have the power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge -- that we may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

Ephesians 3:18-19

Wow. The fullness of God...what a pretty dress that would be. Praying we wear him well."

Progressive sanctification. Or unraveling, if you will. A painfully, beautiful gift encased in the vitality of feeling.

Let's keep doing the work of feeling with Christ as our identity.

All the fullness of God awaits

And I want that more than anything.

For me and for you.

I mean, what if?

Such Things

Yesterday I was challenged to be identified by the things I favor. How easy it is to rant against the things that displease me. So exhaustively easy if that makes any sense.

Time to accentuate the positive instead of complain about what is lacking or disappointing. And this epiphany is in no way an excuse to abdicate the throne of truth telling. Clearly, truth is vital. Especially in the midst of situations that are disagreeable and compromising. Fixating on the negative, however, may very well be a slippery path towards entrapment.

And still I fall for it. I find myself wrapped up in frustration over an issue or individual instead of choosing to see God's movement. Repeatedly even rationalizing my feelings by declaring it righteous anger and citing instances of God's frustration with his own creation. When in fact, the sentiment is actually counterproductive cynicism than anything remotely resembling righteousness. A perspective that regularly, if I'm honest, leads to folly.

Ouch.

To be sure, God's patience will reach a limit. But as the sun rose this morning, I am reminded that day has not arrived. How thankful I am he has been slow to anger and abounding in love with this girl -- a silly, prideful wreck. Purposefully refined every moment by a compelling compassion.

Let me look in mercy at the process of growth around me instead of choosing to dwell in the brokenness. Therein lies the chance to love him more, and I'm always a sucker for great love.

I want to be a woman who angers slowly, full of love and mercy, walking in thankfulness. Humbly remembering that God is not finished.

With me or with you.

Good news indeed.

I mean, what if?

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

Philippians 4:8

Aisle Party

Three weeks ago, my best friend, Jourdan, married a great friend, Jeff, and it was beautiful. The engagement was fast, not even three months, but we gathered together as a community of friends and family and helped them celebrate the beginning of a marriage ten years in the making. And God was there.

He was there in the laughter, the songs, the creativity, the words, the beauty, the errands, the food, the prayers, the dancing, the tears, and the ten year process of joining a man and a woman in spite of themselves -- for his glory. What I witnessed three weeks ago, God did. He just did. And everyone in attendance could sense it. The presence of God hovered on a cold, November night and reminded us all of his tender sovereignty, and our hearts were warmed.

When Jourdan walked down the aisle that night, she was indeed radiant. Aglow from the inside out, peaceful, expectant, breathtakingly beautiful, filled with inexpressible joy -- and her community agreed and broke out in spontaneous applause. We clapped and whistled and yelled as she walked with her daddy to finally meet her groom.

I have never experienced that at a wedding, but our hearts were united in joy as this part of Jourdan and Jeff's journey ended at the altar as the two became one. What a picture of redemption. Of the larger narrative. Perhaps, one day the angels will sit on either side of the aisle and watch the church, washed clean and radiant, walk down that aisle to finally rest in the God who sees her -- who has always seen her.

And like the guests at Jourdan and Jeff's wedding, the angels will undoubtedly celebrate. For they, like us, have observed the journey -- twisted and heavy at times, yet now sensing the imminence of completion. And they become overjoyed in anticipation of a long awaited conclusion. My mind is limited as to what that will sound like --- perhaps peace, love, hope, perseverance and joy blending into a score that will move us assuredly toward our groom and prompt us to exhale at long last as we gaze transfixed at the one who has chosen us.

Thank you Jeff and Jourdan for letting us do life with you through your journey. Even the twisted and heavy parts. For those parts allowed us to celebrate more fully and glimpse the compassionate grace of the God who saw fit for you to walk towards him together in this life as he patiently awaits his own bride.

And Jourdan, your John 2:11 prayer offered earlier that day was abundantly answered on your special night. The wedding absolutely uncovered his glory and many of us there believe him a little bit more because of that sacred time together. May it be even more so as you strive together in marriage.

Love you both.

I mean, what if?

"What Jesus did here in Cana of Galilee was the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him."

John 2:11

For a more detailed description of Jourdan and Jeff's journey, check out their story at http://web.mac.com/jeffjohnsonband/iWeb/Burks-JohnsonWedding/About%20Us.html

Words

My sins are before me

The looseness of my mouth

The lust of my flesh

The pride of my heart

I am reminded of who you are

Of your holiness and of my haughty obstinance

And so your grace means much today

Saving a wretch like me

Make me a woman ready to encourage instead of criticize

Ready to listen rather than rambling hollow words

Soaked in insecurity and deceptive pride

That I might hear

Then filter

Then encourage

Becoming a glimmer of redemption

Instead of compounding brokenness

And adding to foolishness

Root my words in silence

In wisdom

In humble confidence

On earth as it is in heaven

I mean, what if?

"Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing."

Proverbs 12:18

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue."

Proverbs 31:26

Sudan Bound

In just a few days, God is shifting my path to Africa again. To the Sudan more specifically. Yep. I will head to DFW airport on Monday afternoon, meet up with my eight team members in the sleek international terminal, and we will travel to the beautiful, but long-suffering continent of Africa.

While I have a few ideas of what awaits, I go with little expectation. A fresh canvas in my mind for God to create his story. To be sure, we go ready to impart the hope of Christ to a war weary people, but I have this odd sense, that I am going simply to be present. To look in the eyes of those dark, soulful faces and just remember them. Remember their stories. Remember their hope. Remember how they choose joy over circumstance. Remember we are indeed family. And to remember that there is a life we are called to live that is so far past our often binding comforts. A life that is not necessarily safe or easy, but very good. And immensely purposeful. And worth the risk.

While flipping through my journal the other day, I came across an entry from December 10, 2009. One of the lines simply said "...send me to another nation in 2010." And He is. To a place and a people I am humbled to see and serve. Theirs is a pain I cannot fully comprehend, which initially made me question my usefulness on this trip. But nearly in the same breath, I remembered the Christ I have come to know. This savior that redeems, heals, and restores -- from anything. And while I do not understand the specific sufferings of the Sudanese, I am familiar with the hope of Christ, and stubbornly but gratefully realized somewhere along my path that He is enough. Not just for a white girl living in Dallas, TX, but also, and perhaps even more so, for the oppressed people of Sudan. He just is.

If you get this far and are inclined to pray, my team and I would love that. Pray unity, selflessness, and a great love for each other and those we serve. Pray physical health and stamina. Pray joy over and through us. Pray we would be fully present in each moment. Pray we would not forget.

These final words that follow, I wrote in a blog entry from last year but seem almost hauntingly appropriate again: Let us draw near to Christ in such a way that our ears would hear the groans around us, our eyes would risk looking at people and then loving them, and our lives would become his patient relief.

A beautiful wrecking approaches.

I mean, what if?

"...seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow."

Isaiah 1:17

Birthday

So today is my birthday. And I find myself in tears. But these are good tears. In fact, a couple of years ago, I cried on my birthday but they were tears of desperation. Of wondering what in the world was happening with my life. Of succumbing to feelings of total insignificance. Which in hindsight was absolutely untrue, but I couldn't, or possibly wouldn't, see past myself in those moments.

Conversely, today, I find myself crying with gratitude. I am overwhelmed by the kind thoughts and words of people on my path, and I cannot believe God would choose me to sprinkle his life on anyone else. But he has. Surely a gift of immeasurable proportion. If it were only one other person that would be incredible, but he has somehow allowed jacked up me to be life to many over the years.

Foolishness of the gospel indeed.

Please know, I type this in as much humility as my sanctification will afford me thus far. Not in arrogance. I just find myself staggered that I get to live a hopelessly flawed life and somehow God makes something lovely with it. Fragrant even. For others.

And while too many of my moments I surrender to accusation, brutalizing myself with how I failed someone else or was either too much or not enough in a situation -- today, on my birthday, God has been especially tender with me. He has given me eyes to see how he is making all new in me, but even more surreal, through me. An allowance I pray he will bind to my heart and forehead to combat my impending times of forgetfulness.

If you are reading this, thank you for gracefully allowing the Christ in me to be life, if even for a moment. For in these small moments, I gratefully recognize the measure of this gift.

Thank you, Jesus, for being my life. In both hope and heartbreak, abundance and little. You really are the God who sees me. May this year find me moving in wisdom and grace with open hands, spilled out. Giving, receiving, laughing, and loving in a way that dispels the dark and perhaps even compels others to do the same.

Christ in me, the hope of glory.

And you too.

Let's be life today.

I mean, what if?

"For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all surpassing power if from God and not from us."

2 Corinthians 4:5-7