I remember standing in that old church building, staring at the words on the screen, singing along to a song that I barely knew, but recognized enough from its repetitive play on the radio. when I got to the part about the Lord taking me to a place where my trust knew no borders...I couldn't sing anymore. I stopped cold. All of the sudden this top 20 Christian hit was a dagger in my heart. All the sudden this was more than just a nice women's conference. This was about to be life-changing and I knew it. I love that this song, Oceans by Hillsong United, is about Peter. I so identify with Peter. He had such a deep heart. He also had an unfortunate penchant for speaking too soon, listening too little, and an astounding propensity for responding in a split-second, knee-jerk manner. That's me in a nutshell. The story in the gospels where Peter jumps out of the boat to walk on the water to Jesus has always been such an encouragement. To have the faith of Peter to believe that I could get out of the boat... And then the way my heart warms and I feel a kinship to him as he sinks below the waves the minute he takes his eyes off Jesus. That's also me in a nutshell. Deep-water faith in the shallow end. I want to be brave. I want to have ocean-sized faith. I want to jump out of the boat and sprint to Jesus on the water. But more times than not, I get caught up in the waves: The waves of doubt, fear, worry, everyday struggles... I had no idea when I sang those words that God would soon be calling me out of a boat and asking me to walk across water. I find myself, right now, dangling in the water, holding on to the side of the boat, gasping for breath. Most of the time, I keep my head above, but too often it dips below. Sometimes I see Jesus and sometimes I see nothing but the waves. Why can't Jesus lead me across a still, shallow pond? Even as I ask the question, I know the answer. If He led me where I could go on my own, I wouldn't need Him. Here, gripping the sides of the boat, feet nowhere near touching the bottom, I have three choices: 1) Get back in the boat 2) Let go and keep my eyes on Jesus as I walk to Him, or 3) Drown. I know I've come too far and offered myself to Him too much to get back in the boat. And I surely don't want to drown. But the fear of taking those steps across the vast expanse separating Him from me is almost too much to bear. What's worse? The fear of doing nothing and not trusting Him. And He says, 'Come,' he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, 'Lord, save me!' Immediately, Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. 'You of little faith,' he said, 'why did you doubt?'' Matthew 14: 29-36 I'm keeping my eyes on Jesus. It's the only way to keep my head above the waves. "Oh sure! That would be nice!" I said, smiling. I nodded my head with exuberance and smiled a huge, cheesey smile. This sweet woman had just invited me to her house to sit and chat while the kids played. I grinned so bright and agreed what a great idea it was, all the while thinking to myself, "That will never happen." Why? Because I didn't like her? No. I liked her a lot. She's sweet and kind and I've been dying to make friends. The reaosn is because my home is my bubble, my safe place. I do what I want. I wear my jammies all day. I can shower, or not. I don't feel pressure or obligated to exert myself in any way outside of what makes me comfortable. And it's in that word--comfortable--that we get the crux of why I knew I'd never happen over to her house to visit. I like being comfortable. And who doesn't, really? Most people don't go out of their way to be uncomfortable. In fact, we take a lifetime usually, to build walls, and draw boundaries that keep us safe and secure. I think I've likened "comfort" with safe. I assume that if it "hurts" it's not good. I used to lament while watching my babies cry, "why did God make teething so painful? What purpose does that pain possibly serve?" But as I sit here thinking about all of this, I wonder if it's just one way He shows us that pain and discomfort doesn't always equal "bad" and is, in fact, necessary to grow and mature. Who knows if the time spent in the cocoon is terribly painful for the butterfly? It may seem to the onlooker to be effortless, but maybe it's not. {If you know scientific data to answer this question, let's forego that for the sake of my point, m'kay?} Maybe it's excruciating, but OH! what a beautiful breakthrough happens when it emerges, fully changed and gorgeous! I've been convicted so much lately about my life and the level of comfort I shamelessly work to maintain. I go just as far as necesary, but never past where it stings. That woman who needs a friend? I'll text her. That woman who is hurting? I'll give her a hug. That woman who no one else wants anyting to do with? Well, I'll pray for her and point her out to others so they can build community with her. I'm nice like that. What I won't do? Oh that list is much longer. Pretty much anything that requires I extend myself beyond what I feel like in the moment is where I stop. Sure, I write. I blog. I lead Bible studies. I even speak on occasion in front of large crowds. But I'm realizing that even if I write or speak about Jesus to an audience of millions, if I never truly extend myself to those in my sphere, one-on-one, to build real community, to show them what Jesus looks like...I'm not really serving. If I only do what feels good or "not that bad," what sacrifice is it to the Father? Thankfully, Jesus went far above and beyond what merely didn't feel "that bad" for us. Not only in the pivotal and immeasurable action of dying on the cross and raising again, but in His everyday life during His ministry, He gave it all. His entire life was dedicated to serving others. He stole away on occasion to refill and spend time with the Father, but the majority of time in scripture, we see Him ministering; to the disciples, to the hurting and broken, preaching, and teaching. His life was an example of how we should love: sacrificial. 100% in, not merely toeing the water, wading ankle deep. Sure, He preached on hillsides and performed miracles, but He also spent much of His time in people's homes, eating with them, getting to know them, sharing in their personal space. He wandered from place to place, never putting down roots for very long, all in an effort to reach and get to know as many as possible. And all to be an example to us of sacrificial service. When others extended invitations to Him to come to their homes, He went. Often He went into the homes of those who others who were "religious" or "holy" would never consider. Jesus went. He reclined at their tables and ate with them. He had conversation. He saw below the surface of what everyone else saw. Why am I not doing that more? Because it's uncomfortable. I've felt God put a messgae on my heart for some time now. I didn't really get it at first, but it's starting to become clearer: "You're going to do this differently. You're not going to look like everyone else. Your ministry will be your life." I believe He's starting to reveal to me what that entails. It means that I realize my importance lies in Him and how He views me...not in how I view myself or how others view me. It means going to that friend's house, even when it feels awkward. It means remembering that woman's name who I saw at church for 3 years {and even hugged on many occasions!!} It means realizing with humility and regret that she never failed to say hello to me by name, but I , to this day, can't tell you what hers is. It means being there when someone needs to sloppy cry and share their heart, even when I feel like it's "drama" and a mess of their own making. It means getting to know without judgment those who are different than I am--even those who have different beliefs than I do. It means being available--really available--to someone when they're weak and broken. I like the clean, easy problems that can be solved with a prayer or a Bible study. The deep wounds that are messy and require surgery are the ones that I tend to run from. But Jesus didn't. He approached the demon-possessed, the leperous, and even the decaying dead. He never held back. He gave Himself freely. What would my world look like if I did that? What would our world look ike if we all did that? Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation." Mark 16:15 That is one of the last statements Jesus ever uttered on this earth before He ascended into Heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. When you're getting ready to part company with someone you love more than life itself (as literally proven, in Jesus' case), and you know you won't see them again for millenia, don't you think you'd take careful consideration as to what your final words to them are? I think so. I especially think so when we look at who Jesus was (and is): The perfect One. The Son of God. The Messiah. The Creator of the world. The Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End. So, if we take into account who Jesus was (and is) and that He was giving final instructions to His disciples on how they should continue their work--His Work-- and how they should live, think, and act, how much weight should we put on these words? These directives? I've read these verses countless times, but only NOW am I moved to action. Thankfully, God is patient and works with me where I am, but when He's ready to move me...He moves me. And here I am...moved. Jesus said to "Go into all the world." "Go into" As believers, and often as church bodies, I think it's easy to get comfortable waiting for those who don't know the Lord to come to us. We provide great pastors, meaty sermons, top-notch worship, amazing children's classes, and a litany of high-quality Bible studies. We have hearts to serve and motivation to love others the way Christ loved. But. We do all of that within our 4 walls and that's where we tend to stop. And as I read more and more about who Jesus was on this earth, the way He loved people, and the way He was INthe communities and dwelt among the people, I'm convicted that we so often miss the mark. I miss the mark. Pastors, sermons, worship, children's ministry, Bible studies...they're massively important. They are. I believe that with my whole heart. I also believe that they're important components to a greater whole. They don't (or I believe shouldn't) stand alone. They shouldn't be our "GO TO" method for winning a world to Christ. What about all those who will never come within our four walls for whatever reason? I fall back on a lot of excuses when faced with the scary reality of going into the world:
Have I hit any of yours? Reading over those makes my heart beat fast and feel like a hammered thumb. Ouch. It's cliche to say that there is a waiting, hurting world out there that needs us. It's cliche, but it's true. Jesus made Himself available to the people in the communities He visited. He ate dinner in their homes. He looked at them when they spoke. He had mercy on them when they were hurting. He answered their questions. What if going into the world didn't necessarily mean preaching on a street corner, but it did mean making ourselves available and seen? What if it means getting to know those who look, act, think, and live differently than we do? What if it means, walking in our neighborhood, our community, and our cities, and praying for others as we see them? What if it means passing out water bottles or blankets to the homeless, police, firefighters, etc? What if it meant singing on the sidewalk about Jesus' love? What if it meant watching for people who struggle or are hurting and offering to pray with them? What if it meant being visible and open to conversation, even with a stranger, even with someone we would normally not give a scecond thought? What if it meant leaving behind the responsibility that "we" will save souls and instead we just make ourselves accessible? What if we choose to step outside of our comfort zone, unrehearsed, without expectation, and just be available? I feel uneasy launching into something like this without planning. And some planning should be done, for sure. But...what if we're at our most refreshing and approachable when we're without expectation and fumbling our way through it. Slick, polished, perfect images tend to inspire insecurity in others and a stand-offish-ness. What if we just offered who we are; nothing more, nothing less? And then stepped back to watch God show off? What if we took Jesus at His Word and actually went out into the world? I believe we would be floored with how many would, in turn, walk in our doors and fill up those four walls we works so hard to stay within. As Scripture says, 'Anyone who believes in him will never be put to shame.' For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, 'Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.' Did you catch that up there? "How can anyone preach unless they are sent?" Being sent literally means: to allow one to depart, that he may be in a state of liberty; to order one to depart, send off.
Let's have beautiful feet, friends! Let's "GO" and be available to share Jesus with a world who needs it. *Interested in the workbook we have about this very topic? Check out our devotional "GO!: Continuing the Journey You Began in Christ in our shop! I knew about a milisecond before it happend that it was a bad idea. I was using an old pair of scissors to pry the staples off the back of a picture when the rusty, dulled point slipped, taking with it a significant chunk of my thumb. By instinct, I dropped the scissors and picture, and immediately grabbed my throbbing, bleeding thumb with my other hand. I squeezed tight and slammed my eyes shut. I didn't want to look and see the damage. I didn't want to acknowledge that it had even happened. I held my breath and waited for the inevitable rush of pain that always lags a bit behind the initial injury. It didn't disappoint. My thumb suddenly felt as big as my head. My kids gathered around me, asking what happened and wanting to see the injury. I don't know about you, but when I get hurt--especially this bad--I become like a wounded bobcat. My fangs were out and I roared at everyone to leave me alone! I ran around the room, trying to outrun the pain, ignoring my kids' questions and needs in that moment. I was certain that I'd nearly severed my thumb and too afraid to confirm that fear. I was panicked, stunned, fearful, and in pain. Those are not the emotions of someone willing to handle a crisis in a rational manner. Later....much, much later...I was able to look back on that scene and realize how closely it relates to how I feel when I am wounded by a relationship, when I have a falling out, or face conflict. I typically react in all the same ways. I:
Luckily, my injury wasn't as bad as I'd feared. It was a decent gash, but it didn't require any stitches. And, like with my injury, many times coflict in my life isn't as damaging as it feels in the moment. However, that doesn't stop me from knee-jerk reacting as if my life is about to end. Do you respond this way as well? When you get hurt or encounter conflict, do you figuratively squeeze your eyes shut and worry about one thing: your wound? Does your main focus become yourself over anyone else, as you try to escape from, anticipate, and alleviate the pain? I've experienced this also from another perspective. I've watched as others get hurt and limp to a corner to nurse their wounds. They become consumed with their pain and how to make it better, forgetting that others around them have needs and hurts as well. It makes for a very one-sided friendship. As much as it stings, I'm certain I've done this to others. Suddenly, their whole world revolves around what they're going through and how they feel. Conversations with these people tend to revolve around their situation, rehashing (and rehashing...and rehashing) the ins and outs of it. Suddenly, the give-and-take of friendship becomes solely "take." What to do? My initial response wants to be to get angry and call the person out, but that would only make the situation worse. I think...and I haven't got this all figured out, this relationship/conflict thing...the thing to do is extend grace. Ugh. Yes, grace. That thing that we want lavished on ourselves, but dole out sparsely to others. Yeah, that. Calling out a wounded person for being self-absorbed will only add salt to the already gaping, festering wound. No good. Instead, maybe praying for and over that person and allowing them time to heal is the better choice? I didn't say it's the easier choice. Extending grace can be done while simultaneously drawing healthy boundaries for both parties. Somethimes a step away from each other is needed to catch our breath and get a fresh perspective. Chances are (and hopefully so) when that person does heal and comes to us, the relationship won't be damaged or severed because we've drawn a line in the sand. Instead, we may actually hasten their healing with our patience, prayer, and grace. Here's to living life with copious amounts of grace that build beautiful friendships! I'm all fired up. I've been chatting with one of my sweetest friends and we're moving mountains in our conversation. I've been thinking about a trend that I see among many Christians. The enemy is so good at what he does. He has us all mixed up and fooled into thinking that we aren't worthy. He has us confused with how value-less we feel and with doubting that God REALLY loves us as we are. And something about Satan...he doesn't change his M.O. He might change his tactics to suit each person and situation, but he always does the same things. He has a limited tool bag. He doesn't come out and say to us, "You are unworthy to God." What he does instead is make us question, "Am I worthy to God?" just like he did to Eve in the Garden. He never said directly to Eve, "You are allowed to eat of the fruit." Rather, he said, "Did God really say that?" And then he watched as Eve destroyed herself by allowing the seed of doubt that he planted infect her heart and her thinking. When we take it upon ourselves to do his work, he can stand back and gleefully rub his hands together as we
And the enemy never has to break a sweat. (Usually) our first course of action with a sister or brother struggling with low self-esteem or self-worth is to comfort them and remind them of all of their good qualities. We want that feeling of worthlessness to go away and for them to feel better. It may come from a solid, Biblically-based place, even. But something that hit me today as I was looking up verses with the word "worthy" is this:
In all of these verses (and there are many more) He who is "worthy" is the Lord. In fact, when we look at many other verses in relation to being "worthy" we see this:
In fact....our worth should be wrapped up in this: 1 Thessalonians 2:12 (NIV) Encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory. (emphasis mine) Our worth comes from Jesus. Nothing in us is worthy on its own, but only by the Blood of the Lamb are we counted worthy. "For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." (Colossions 1:9-14, emphasis mine.) The next time we're questioning our worth and getting caught up in that pattern of thinking, let's remind ourselves that on our own, we aren't worthy. Only through Christ are we considered worthy in the Father's eyes. And the more we listen to OUR OWN THOUGHTS about ourselves, the less space and energy we have to put toward what we're called to: live lives worthy of the gospel of Christ. The more we hear ourselves or the enemy, the less we are able to hear God. And he said to all, 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.' (Luke 9:23) "And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." (Galatians 5:24) I believe the "passions and desires" referenced in Galatians 5:24 include the desire for validation and the desire to be needed and important as according to the world's standards. Where are we seeking those things? From people? From our job? Our ministry? Our finances? Our possessions? Our giftings? Our looks or posessions? If we aren't seeking our worthiness in the Lord, we're seeking after idols. "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:21) "Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them." (Ephesians 5:11) The things whispered in our ears in the dark that are contrary to God's Word (that He loves you enough to send Jesus--John 3:16), MUST be brought into the light. Lay it at the foot of the cross, at the altar of God, and let Him consume it with fire.
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This space is reserved for Founder Mandy's perspectives and viewpoints of Scripture. Man is fallible, but God is not. It's strongly encouraged that you study the Scripture for yourself and allow the Holy Spirit to guide you in your understanding.
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November 2023
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