Identity

Identity is so necessary. My identities I possess create who I am.

Identity also creates our to-do lists.

If I'm a teacher, I teach.

If I'm a mommy, I mother.

If I'm a singer, I sing.

If I'm a writer, I write.

I never realized before the significance of the relation that identity has to works.

As a task oriented person, and someone very structured and conscious of my identities, this is really important beyond words. Of course, feeling significant in the world is a necessary thing. I'm not putting that away. But I do recognize some very deep and powerful flaws here in my own life.

There is so much in the Bible about works. I wrongfully have rendered works always being linked to "good works" or things people assume can get them into heaven. The attempts at perfection.

I've never really considered works to simply be just the things we do.

I find so much security in my works. What I accomplish. What I do.

Salvation comes only from what the Lord did and does. The things He does.

I feel like there's steam coming out my ears trying to wrap my head about this heavenly concept... gosh, what I'd give for just a little bit more brain capacity to understand things we just can't about the Lord...

Bottom line: our works don't save us. Our works aren't what make us significant. His works have saved us. His works accomplished much. As His children, we share in his accomplishments by receiving the benefit of what He did.

Similarly, our identities (which determine our works) don't save us. Our identities do not make us significant. Who He is, is the only thing that changes anything.

I'm hardly even scratching the surface of this. It's beyond me.

Reassurance

The methods in which the Lord chooses to minister to us is worth some reflection. I think it's mind boggling how intricately God ordains our moments. My day feels like a mess, and completely off beat sometimes. Yet it's happening perfectly, and quite timely in the eyes of the Lord.

I need to bask in the fact that there's no possible way things can really unravel. God is the grand puppeteer and is working all things out for my good.

Someone recently came to me for advice. I'm in no way much more trustworthy an advice giver than the next guy, but it truly opened my eyes to hearing the advice I myself needed too, without even knowing it.

I knew the answer to my own frustrating concerns, but in the midst of frustration comes a lot of dust. Chipping away at my own frailty causes a cloud of smoke that confuses me and throws me off.

When someone shares a similar experience, I can step back and see what's happening to them so much more clearly.

Suddenly, I'm looking at myself, and realizing for the first time the things I actually needed to hear myself.

I love seeing so clearly how the Lord is working in my life.

I love knowing that the challenges that come up during the day are in fact perfectly timed for when I'll need to quit trying to use my own strength and submit to His.

It's reassuring.

Missing the mark

The bow balanced perfectly in midair, the arrow hung in the exact spot necessary to hit the target head on.

The wooded area surrounds, the breeze like a hushed tone in anticipation.

Deep breath.

Pull back.

Focus.

Shoot.

Miss.

How?

Everything was aligned precisely. Everything was calm, everything was flawless.

Except the shooter.

I feel like that's me, sometimes. Everything is perfect, except for me, so things just can't work out sinlessly. There's something that's disappointing. Something that's just missing the mark, if only by a small percentage. There's always something.

Sin actually means missing the mark.

I've been reflecting on how God uses the things in our lives (whether good or bad) to teach us new things. There's nothing outside of the realm God is capable of using for His glory, even sin. That sounds wrong. God can't mix with sin, yet He's mighty enough to even work with that which He is incapable of Himself.

It's like He's the Divine Archer, and takes our arrows to shoot from His own bow, since we just miss the mark no matter what.  Our "arrows" can't hit the target unless He's shooting them Himself.

I struggle not to take credit when He uses "my" arrow to hit a bull's eye. As if I were really the one who shot it, not He.

Foolishness.

I'm noticing my inability to gracefully handle my "calm," my "sanity," my schedule being a bit tampered with. I've had a bit of a cold lately, and so has Selah. Her sleeping through the night isn't always happening as of late, and my need for sleep is only escalating.

I'm also about to make a short trip to Jersey for a few days. I'm thrilled to see friends and family, but I'm anxious about keeping Selah's schedule. I'm scared about what the trip will do to her fragile balance we've only just found.

Mothers of babies all sigh a painful sigh at the mention of a baby getting off schedule. We know this means misery for all.

Finding a lost schedule is like going on a wild goose chase.

But I see something that God might be teaching me through it. It's a comfort, though a prickly, painful one.

In the past, I used to struggle with not wanting to be how I am. I thrive on a schedule and on accomplishing much. I'm driven to do a lot or I feel like a failure. I love staying busy. I love being organized and on point. I used to be kind of embarrassed about that. It makes me unbearable at times, and I even understand why.

I used to want to change. Instead, I've felt over and over again how God does not desire us to change, but to adapt to being who He made us for His glory. His purpose. I can work well for the sake of Him, not for my own sake of feeling good about myself. It's a perspective change. Of course I'm terrible at keeping this perspective, but that's another story for another time.

While God has made me to reflect His own orderly, high achiever ways He possesses Himself (without sin), He has also made me capable of acting on the fly. I must be prepared for Him to mess up my plans and my comfy schedule.

I need to be prepared to respond to what He places before me.

If I weren't I'd miss out on joy, and blessing, and grace.

If I'd never been capable of receiving something I didn't plan on, I wouldn't be a mommy right now. I wouldn't even be a wife right now. I wouldn't be in Nashville, and I might not be much of anything I get to be right now.

In the same way, I can say I'm more patient than I was before, I'm more forgiving, I'm more joyful, I'm wiser... notice the -er ending, no -est ending. I'm a work in progress, clearly, but I can definitely look back and see growth that God provided me due to unexpected changes of plans.

Now I'm on the flip side.  God has impressed it on my heart not to try so hard to change who He made me, but to be who I am for Him, as annoying as my tendencies may be. Now, He's leading me to be more freely able to receive unforeseen blessings in the shape of disruptions in my life.

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31

Equal

The world is a mess of thousands of different beliefs about gender right now. I have honestly never felt alarmed myself about being a woman. I've never felt unequal to men. I've never felt completely demeaned for being female.

I do, however, struggle to correctly communicate my belief. Sometimes I'm not even sure what my belief is, because I've never felt uncomfortable being a woman.

I'm fine "submitting" to my husband. I never felt that it was making myself less valuable as a human being. I've never struggled to accept that role.

Others may have a different feeling while reading this, but know that this is coming from a woman that hasn't found difficulty in this area.

Studying the book of Judges, I feel like I finally understand some of the difference between roles given to men and women in a very new and vibrant light.

Deborah was a judge. It wasn't common, but it wasn't wrong. Culture has a lot to do with normalcy, but the Bible is pretty clear about roles given to men and roles given to women. Some (like me) would render the biblical teaching to be that women aren't to be overseers. Like elders/pastors. I know some disagree with this, but walk with me through the point I'm about to make.

Having different roles does not provide different worth.

Equality suggests so many warped ideas. There's always some reasons someone is not being treated equal. But equal does not mean equivalent.

A man is not a woman.

A woman is not a man.

Man and woman are not equivalent. They are equal. They are equal because they are both made in the image of God.

Further, if roles we play really only serve the purpose of a name for the works we perform (a man is the head of the household, a woman is a help, etc...), then roles really don't have as much power as the world thinks.

Because works don't do anything. None of them.

The gospel is completely clear that our works do not add anything to our value to the Lord. Salvation comes not from our works, but His. Our value is not determined by works.

Which means our value is not determined by our roles.

Which means our value is not severed by gender.

Or a title.

Or an elusive idea of what equality even means.

It makes sense, then, that the world is all a mess over this stuff. The world is all about works. Naturally, there'd be  a feud about works. The world judges worth based on works. Of course there's a ruckus about "equality" and "worth" if we judge in this way.

Our roles we play serve to point back to the Father. We are of equal value, but showing that in different ways.

We demonstrate the raw, incredible creativity of our Maker in the creativity we possess.

We demonstrate the heart wrenching, perfect Love of the Father when we look at our own children and just want to kiss them all over their sticky, messy faces.

We reenact His Love when we turn from our natural responses of hate, and decide to think of another's feelings instead of our own.

We can show strength. That came from Him.

We can possess beauty. That came from Him.

We can be gentle. He was first.

We can be wise. Because He is.

Everything we are is because He is.

We show different things, different reflections of our Maker. Each manifestation is different. They are not equivalent. They're different characteristics, or reflections. But they all equal the same thing. Him.

So I feel challenged by this.

I somehow feel more secure in my role as a woman, even though I never really felt deflated for being one. I feel refreshed, and reaffirmed in my worth as woman created by God, and for God.

I know I'm hardly scratching the surface of the greatness of this truth. I feel overwhelmed (in the best way) about it already. It's a beautiful thing.

Act

How interesting it is that my last post was about remembering... I'm going through the book of Judges in the book by Tim Keller, "Judges for You." I LOVE his books. I trust his theology, and always feel like I'm gaining so much understanding and knowledge by the clear, yet deep way he teaches.

He talked about what the words remember, memory and forget actually mean when used in the Bible. These words have always stood out to me, as you might guess based on my posts. He basically said remembering something means your are "acting on" the knowledge of what happened. Forgetting is not acting on the knowledge you have.

This is gold, to me.

When I think about my own life, I know I don't hold memories in the forefront of my brain that would change the way I'd handle a situation. Remembering the right memory, the evidence of truth would change my heart so often, but I don't always do it.

Similarly, remembering the wrong memories, the memories that cause me to "act" on pain or lingering hurts causes a different consequence entirely.

I love where this is going.

We don't need to be stressed out about living. We just live.

God can bring our memories back to us to continue to bring life to moments past. That's amazing.

I could go on and on and maybe make more sense, but Selah just woke up from her nap. I suspect God is not done teaching me about this, though, so you'll probably hear more from me about these things. Adieu.

Remember

I just found some old pictures from my anatomy ultrasound when we found out Selah would be Selah-- a baby girl.

It's amazing that I used to carry her around inside of me. Like we were one. I remember feeling lonely when I first had her. I was alone for the first time in nine months. That time really was so precious. I felt so overwhelmed with so many thoughts and emotions. I was hardly able to contain my wild thoughts, but I couldn't control them enough to write them down. I couldn't write when I was pregnant. it was such a strange time for me. I'm a writer at my core. But I couldn't write.

Whenever (if ever) baby #2 should happen in our lives, I want to make it a point to try to write a lot more than I did when I was pregnant with Selah.

I remember a lot, though. Even though I didn't capture the thoughts as they occurred, I remember.

I remember feeling my unborn daughter stretch and kick and punch inside me, and seeing it on the screen during the ultrasound. That movement matched what I felt. Yes, I really was pregnant. I was carrying a baby. Somehow I didn't really believe it, even seeing it with my own eyes.

And now, still, I look at my baby girl. I see her Daddy's eyes when she looks at me. I know where she came from. But I still can't believe she's truly mine.

Living in the moment is almost impossible. Sometimes I'm better at living when I'm reliving moments from my memory. I can't grasp how truly precious and valuable time is, until it's past. I know this goes against all the songs about living like we're dying, and stop trying to make time go faster, live in the moment, blah blah blah...

I'm honestly, genuinely asking... am I even able to do that? Did God give us memory so that we could embrace the life in moments even after they're passed?

I've always been a little enamored with memory. Something about remembering is elusive, mysterious, wonderful. Memory is beautiful in the Bible, every time. It's grieved if memory is forgotten or left unattended.

There's purpose for it.

Memory enhances today. Today is different because of the memory we hold, and the memory we will make.

Yes, at times I'm able to embrace the current second with arms wide open, even as the hands of time tick by.

But more often, reflecting on the past has a bigger impact on me.

Reflection is a gift. It has a purpose. Even if I fail to write, I own a memory.

I'll always reflect on these moments I have with my baby girl. I can't contain the amazingness of this time. I can't even comprehend it. So I'll just live it the best I can, so I'll have a memory to look back on.

Orphan

The word "orphan" has been echoing in my head this past week. Caleb and I have always loved the idea of adoption. We have been thinking about it as a potential part of our future. Interestingly, the sermon in church last Sunday was about how we are to "look after orphans and widows in their distress" as Christians.

I fully understand the intentions of the passage... but something else is brewing in my heart.

Those who do not know the Lord are orphans.

It's not just about giving children with no parents a home... there are so many people who live their lives as if their orphans (spiritually), and I feel a heaviness on my heart about that, too.

I cannot keep tears back when I imagine the most beautiful moment... seeing my adopted child for the first time. My heart surges with incredible amounts of love for an imaginary child I may never even have the opportunity to experience. I may never adopt a child.

But I have the opportunity to "look after" those who don't know the Lord. I have this opportunity constantly, and I neglect it more often than not.

I don't have exceeding amounts of compassion when someone ticks me off. I don't view frustrating behavior of others as really just likely due to not knowing a (heavenly) "Father".

It changes my heart when I consider this to be the truth. My "family" has been separated by the "father of lies" and his cunning ways. Our Heavenly Father never left... but so many of His children think He did. Now too many people live like abandoned orphans.

Just like a child who never felt truly loved because mommy and daddy didn't take care of him.

There's a lot here. There's are secrets here, secrets of wisdom and understanding that I know I can't even handle. But just the tip of this iceberg is convicting enough.