One Body, One Hope—But it Looks Different

Posted on by Hilarey

I didn’t mean to go so far over my 7 or 8 minute goal in one post. But when I skip weeks, it builds up. There’s a lot of verse links in this one, I hope you double check them all and spend some time pondering their validity. I’d love the conversation.

My favorite recipe app shut down at the start of winter. I wasn’t able to print or bookmark the recipes I’d saved. They are lost to me. It reminds me that years ago I had a daydream where I was reading a digital Bible, and the words started changing and updating to propaganda and lies while I read it. (Since I knew didn’t want to write an apocalyptic novel, I realized my imagination was telling me that I needed to know my Bible, not just know where it’s stored.)

And even still, I prefer the convenience of my digital Bible. Although I use Bible Project frequently, my favorite daily app is Olive Tree. I read through and start over. Occasionally, I try themed reading plans. Every year I am more in awe, and assured it is the Word of God. It always takes me much longer than a year to read through, and I just finished Revelation.

There is a lot going on in this book. And I’m currently contemplating how intriguing it is that even though there is one God, one body, one hope… Jesus Christ introduces and represents himself differently to the seven churches.

To the first church, he introduces himself as the one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks among the seven lamp stands. Revelation 2:1
To the second, he is the first and the last, who died and came to life. Verse 2:8
Then, he declares he is the one with the sharp two-edged sword. Verse 2:12
Next, he doesn’t have a sword. He tells the church that he has eyes like a flame of fire, with feet of burnished bronze. Verse 2:18
In chapter three verse one he describes himself with a similarity to the first church displaying seven stars. But now, he has the seven spirits of God with those stars.
In 3:7, he is the holy one, the true one. And he has the key of David; he opens what no one will shut and shuts what no one opens.
To the last church in 3:14 he is the Amen. The faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation.

Superficially we can look at this is and realize, he’s different to different people. It’s true, you can find God in art, you can find God in science. If something is truly good, it comes from God, no matter the label. And even though Jesus is the only gate, we have to allow that some things look different from our different angles.

We can take that too far, though. The New Testament is clear that rejecting Jesus is rejecting God. We don’t want to risk making a god of our own design and saying all actions and paths lead to him.

Really, all paths lead to decisions. Continually, eventually, your decisions lead you toward or away from the heart of Christ. And just because you acknowledge that Jesus is the gate—or you have said that magic prayer—it doesn’t mean your decisions and actions are still running after his heart.

And, the decisions we need to make each day haven’t changed. I must decide if I am going to do what I want (or eat the fruit) and call my own choices wisdom. Listen, I don’t think Adam and Eve bit down in nervous, regretful, guilt. They rationalized that what they were doing was advantageous, desirous…smart. They elevated their choice with justification and reason. That’s how we end up blocked from the tree of life. It’s how we end up with everyone doing “what is right in their own eyes,” as demonstrated in the historical-chaos-accounts of the Old Testament.

The decision is still to do what he says is best for human flourishing—or to continue tasting and cultivating your palate toward bitterness, rage, anger, or immorality. And rationalizing it.

My path looks different from yours

However, I do giggle at the thought of one church saying to another that God Most High is clearly the one with the sharp, two-edged sword. And the other church replying, “Heavens no, you apostate from hell, God Most High has seven stars in his hand and walks among the seven lamp stands.”

And then the battle ensues. They slaughter each other for generations over the doctrine of swords and stars. Sometimes the church of the seven spirits helps, because after all, they have the commonality of the seven stars, and they can set the lamp stands aside for a minute to get rid of the sword church. Or at the very least, the factions split and they badmouth each other across town while the non-believers look on and roll their eyes.

We are told that our love for each other will prove we are disciples. Why then, is it so surprising that pseudo-love (sex) is more compelling to the world than our division and fear?

We see a greater totality of God when we’re connected to others who are different from ourselves and who see God differently. The church in Asia, the church in Africa, the church in Europe… the church across the street, all have things we don’t know about—and need. When the body is complete, we have access to all the body’s functions and resources. Swords and stars.

There is a similarity in Revelation after Christ introduces himself differently. In each of Christ’s messages to the seven churches, there’s a reward for “the one who conquers, is victorious, or overcomes.”

I believe the promises that follow the admonitions are for all who overcome, even though specific churches needed specific encouragements, and… specific warnings that pertain to particular broken things in their individual culture.

Here is the list of those promises: the one who overcomes gets to eat of the tree of life in the paradise of God (2:7). The one who overcomes will not be hurt by the second death (2:11). They will get some of the hidden manna and a white stone with a new name written on that stone that no one knows (2:17). They will have authority over the nations, to rule. And they will receive the morning star (2:26-28). They will be clothed in white garments, their name will never be blotted out of the book of life and Christ will confess their name before the father and angels (3:5). They will become a pillar in the temple of God, never to leave it. And Christ says he will write on them the name of his God, the name of the city of God…and Christ’s own new name (3:12).

To be completely transparent about why I say all of those rewards apply to all the churches: It’s because I tend to take all the promises from the Bible for personal application—if not direct receipt. I cling to David’s promises in the Psalms as something I have access to. But, to be fair, I also believe all the warnings still apply to me as well. It’s not à la cate: good stuff for me, and the warnings for the Jews.

Your path looks different from mine

This is not the only time God looks different. Our unique brains, cultures and experiences make it difficult to agree on how to build a compost pile, much less how to live in sincere peace with God Most High. So, our multifaceted Christ also pursues us differently according to our individual needs. Sometimes he comes after us like the shepherd who leaves the flock behind, to search us out. Then, carries our trembling hide home with more rejoicing than he has for the 99.

But sometimes, he waits patiently for us to return like the prodigal father. Running to us only after we turn toward home. Waiting until we want him, before he falls on our neck with a kiss.

Sometimes he draws us into the pain of the wilderness to remove our distraction, or semblance of strength, and to see our need. He wants us to experience calling out to him so we can experience his answer.

Sometimes he wants us to wait patiently for him. And don’t think you can experience “patiently” without a difficult stretch of time in longing.

Different reactions to the choice

In the parable of the dinner feast, Christ says in Luke 14:16–24 that many people have excuses for why they cannot come to the feast, or at least come right now. The excuses are interesting to me: owning land, working, getting married. All things greatly valued in American Christendom. Is it not ironic that we preach “Get a job, buy dirt, make a bio family and then you’ll experience God’s blessing…” when those are the specific entrapments that actually kept people from going to the feast in the parable?

We’ll just skip over the obvious parable of the same seed falling on different soil and consider the varied reactions when Paul preached in Athens in Acts 17:22-34. Some laughed, some said they’d hear more later, and some believed. I think the ones who go to church every week, tell other people they’re going to hell, while rationalizing their own discrete sins, are the “We’d like to hear more on this topic” group.

When Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead in John 11:44, the people who watched reacted in two different ways. “Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what he did, believed in him, but some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done.” Verses 45 & 46.

Even though a dead man had been restored to life—they were more concerned about upsetting their societal structure, their man-made religious government.

And then, even some of those who believed the miracle of Lazarus still rejected the call to live it out. John 12:42-43 says “Nevertheless, many even of the authorities believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue; for they loved the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God.”

Different reactions to the ongoing choice

Freewill is obviously destructive to the world. But, don’t forget: freewill from believers hurts people just as much. It is possible to go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of truth. Just because you walk through the gate, it doesn’t mean you loose the dignity of your free choice.

In Matthew 21:28-32 the parable is of two sons—so I think of them as children of God, as believers. Did you think after your wedding day that you would never have another decision regarding your sexual morality? Did you think it would always be the easy, first choice to obey God after conversion? In actuality, once abiding has reigned in some of the outwardly demonstrated sins like rage and drunkenness, you can start to feel the less obvious inflammation of subtle diseases, like jealousy.

Those continual choices of submission, after we come to the Lord, actually increase. The boys in the parable were told to work in the vineyard. One said no, but then later went. One said yes, but did not go. Jesus asked the men who had dedicated their entire life to studying the scriptures, “Which son obeyed?”

These devout men said it was the first who obeyed. Because action matters more than the promise, right? Here’s where Jesus gets insult-y. He replied to them the worst, most unlikely converts, and outcast enemies of your society will enter heaven before you. Verse 32.

Hmm, are there any unlikely converts and outcast enemies according to your church’s “about page”?

We’re missing something if we think either obeyed. So don’t bother giving lip service to God or others about your faith. Prove it with your actions and your love.

The same answer

Ok, so different parts of the body, different angles of view, but our obedience will have similarities. We get hung up on allowable and cultural differences like who’s in the buffet line for sacrificed meat—but submission is evident by fruit of the spirit.

Also, allow that in all our differences, we also grow and learn at different speeds. But make no mistake. Jesus said, if you love me, you will keep my commands. The follower of Jesus won’t be the one who tells others to obey from blog, podcast, pulpit or book. Even Paul said he could be disqualified while leading others to God—if he wasn’t careful. Nor will true followers be the one who merely prophesy in his name…or who do amazing miracles. It will be the one who practices abiding in love and obedience.

We mistake God being for long-suffering with us, as permission, and his long-suffering with others, as participation in evil.

This bucks at the “Grace is so dang cheap, it’s free!” doctrine I’ve met along the way. I’m still working through it, but it jolts me every time I read, “Not all who cry Lord, Lord, will enter heaven. But only the one who does the will of my father.” Matthew 7:21

He is still calling you

Since some will stand before God at the end and be surprised that he says, “I never knew you,” we should rethink the once-saved-always-saved, one-and-done-magic-prayer, and then live-like-hell-in-religiosity (while condemning the unlikely converts and outcast enemies) religion. I used to tell myself that the ones who cried out “Lord, Lord” were probably going to be the other orthodox or Episcopalians. Just some denomination I didn’t belong to and didn’t know much about. But no, I am the church.

And if you think there is submission involved in coming to the end of yourself and understanding that you need God for salvation… ponder the submission it takes to daily choose his way against your desire. To hourly accept letting go of the things you want, and understand, and are familiar, for the things that he says are better.

Believer, he is still calling you to more, to go deeper. Relinquish more. Abide more. Change more. Don’t ignore it. Hebrews 3 says it is an ongoing choice to not turn away from the living God.

Crowds surrounded him and wanted to be tangential to Christ. We can still mingle tangentially, prophesy and weep for the lost—but never submit to God. Because when Christ gave the call to the masses that surrounded him to follow and obey, not everyone did. Some had really good excuses. (Excuses are not the same as clarification, questions and wrestling with God.)

Look how it played out, Peter fell to his knees when Christ told him, “Follow me and I will make you a fisher of men.”
When James & John got the call, they left their dad & boat.
But other men he called said, “Let me first bury my dad,” or “Let me say goodbye to my family.”

As an adult, you get to live the life you want. Sure, only within your power and circumstance, but all your justifications, excuses and responses dictate your life. You have this ongoing choice to walk toward or away from the heart of Christ.

Is there anything you are waiting on, or need to take care of, or bury before you answer the call to go deeper?

Don’t waste your time saying goodbye to it.

Your Own Hands

Posted on by Hilarey

I love the hopeful newness of January. I like resolutions. Although, if you were raised to believe you had to honor your word, it is a little painful to promise yourself something and not follow through. So, I understand those who are dead-set against resolutions. Usually, though, resolutions are all the same things that you want to do all year long. So if you haven’t trained for that marathon, lost that weight, learned a new language, gotten sober, or written your memoir yet—you break those promises to yourself every month. 

It just feels like a clean slate at the new year, and there’s something invigorating about the old-self applying to a different year in the past. Not a few days ago. It’s why I love to use this time of the year to throw away everything expired in my cupboards, fridge and cabinets. Let the bad fall away behind you and keep walking. Try again. Start over.

A marathon is not on my list this year. I never want to run one. But, a few years ago I was training to walk/run half-marathons. We were helping to raise money for AIDS orphanages in India through the ministry fiftytwo.4. If you haven’t trained six-months to run thirteen miles every Saturday in October, you may not know that the mental battle is more than half of the challenge. Sure, you train your body for endurance if you want to be able to move after each run. But you have no idea how many excuses a human can come up with until you’ve tried something uncomfortable that lasts more than one season. Though it got easier, I never did get a runner’s high, or enjoy running. I had to battle my mind at every practice run.

One time, a woman shared at our group training that God had spoken to her during her runs. He showed her she was clenching her hands too tightly. Not just literally—during the physical activity of running—but when she prayed to him while running. She was clinging to the things she loved. And it represented her fear that God would take them away from her. So, she was learning to run with her palms open and lifted to display her submission to God. So lovely! 

As a side note: it’s recently become really impactful to me to understand that God gives us agency. He allows us to open or close to him. People like to joke about how God got their attention and made them do something. Feeling compelled to act for the pleasure that is peace with God is not the same as him making you do something. If you were raised in a religious home you might have been taught obedience more than the concept of daily choice: following God because you love him. Don’t confuse the control of manwith the draw of God. You can keep your life in your own hands. 

Back to the runner’s hands: I’ve learned that when people say they’ve heard from God, I don’t need to let jealousy make me a skeptic. I just whine, “What about me, God? Do you have something for me?” That day on my run, I asked him if there was a message for me in her words. “Do I cling too tightly to the things and people I am afraid you will take away from me?”

The quick answer was no. But then I clearly heard, “But they are still clenched. You are afraid to let me give you good things.”

I looked down at my hands and tried to summon the courage to open to him. To allow God to give me good things that I might later be afraid of losing. 

I’ve written about using hands in prayer before in These Ten Things. And I read a book last year, Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster, that suggested an exercise during prayer to lay your palms flat on your legs until you come to something that you need to give to the Lord. Then, you turn your hands over and visualize offering it up to him. It was really moving for one of my prayer partners. 

I think the physical movement keeps you present. So instead of spinning in the fear and what if, your prayer a chant of “please, please God.” You acknowledge and name a thing you cannot control, and the mindful action pulls giving that thing to the Limitless God out of the symbolic, and into something more tangible.

There is a verse about hands in Proverbs which I used to see as a warning. It says a foolish woman tears down her house down with her own hands. It isn’t at all noble if a man destroys his sanctuary—he’s still a fool—so I do wonder why it says a woman. But Solomon had a lot wives, and polygamy benefits no one, so he’d probably seen it done a few times. Maybe it has something to do with the way a physical space reflects the spirit of the one who manages it, frequently a woman. I’m not talking about clutter, but if you are in pain and chaos in your brain—there will be tension in the home. Even if it isn’t your doing, or you aren’t allowed to be in control of your house, something ethereal about the room displays the space in your head.

However, even people who can’t sit still unless there’s chaos probably don’t want to tear their home down with their own hands. I think that’s the heart behind the statement in Proverbs. 

But sometimes renovation is in order. Even with the structure that you think provides all your shelter—there is a time to build and a time to tear down.

Most of the lines in the song Poison and Wine by the Civil Wars feel like the barb twisting inside human love, but there is one line that especially applies here. “Your hands can heal. Your hands can bruise.” 

Your hands can be used for good. Your hands can be used for bad. So, in addition to scrambling after new achievements this year, I think it’s worth contemplating your own hands.

Consider if your fingers are clenched too tight to receive from God. Are they squeezing the life out of the thing you want to control, but is not yours to manage? Are they mindfully holding on to what is important and you need to cling to… but loose enough to let something go, even though you love it?

Violence on a Soul

Posted on by Hilarey

My husband and I are reading “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry.” One night, we came across a phrase that made both of us pause—but we’d had very different reactions.

The phrase was “Hurry is a form of violence on the soul.”

Immediately, I wanted to underline it. I consider words valuable if they create emotion and imagery. Valuable doesn’t necessarily mean true to me. I liked the gut-punch. My husband blocked it. He wasn’t going to decide its validity unless it was quantified. Fortunately, the rest of the chapter did go on to describe.

Violence to the soul, in the case of the book’s argument, killed several things your soul needs. Relationships. Joy. Wisdom. Spirituality. And, it ultimately destroys your soul by killing all that we hold dear.

Hurry is hardly the only thing impacting our souls.

The word of God is one of more powerful things I’ve experienced in my soul. Usually it is the main conduit of healing. People bring shame and the gospel brings freedom when we “rightly divide” truth. Scripture is also powerful for the protection of your soul, and described as a sword, useful for offensive-defense in the armor of God.

Offensive-offense

But I usually see the gospel used differently. Cutting through lies is not the same as cutting people.

Sometimes, the children of God play in the safe and walk around with a sharpened sword of truth irresponsibly. We jab without remorse, to justify our own actions, or to control others.

Hence: Spiritual Trauma and Spiritual Abuse.

The first time I tried to control someone by their soul was when I wanted to tell my sister what to do. I said to her “a fool rejects counsel.” Actually, I said it to her back when she rejected my counsel. And I was serious. I now see it as more sinister than I did at the time. I really thought that everything dripping from my mouth was wisdom from above, since I feared God.

Obeying me is obeying your God

Laws are only useful against actions you can catch. Better to make someone believe they have to obey. If you don’t have to fight someone’s internal conviction, your goals are easier. Think of a parent praying with their children, “Please Lord, make these kids honor you, by obeying me, and go to sleep very quickly without getting up and asking for a glass of water, thereby profaning your name.”

Or a father yelling, “The Bible says to honor your father!”

A slave owner telling the slave to “work as unto the Lord, even with a harsh master like me.”

A husband justifying non-consensual intercourse because “the Bible says, ‘Your body is not your own.’”

A wife telling her husband he isn’t “washing her in the Word,” he isn’t loving her as Christ loved the church.

Anyone telling you, “God HATES divorce.”

Someone who calls you back to pray with them because they don’t want you leaving on your terms.

And basically anybody who justifies hurting you because, after all, “Paul did the things he didn’t want to do, either.”

How do you know it’s abuse?

These are only examples—it’s never beneficial to seek a fully inclusive, all encompassing definition of abuse. If you try to delineate all instances, something will slip by.

You know it though, when it causes violence to your soul.

If you have experienced any of these, it probably felt traumatic. Doing or saying one doesn’t make you or someone else an abuser, though.

A marker of abuse is that it is a pattern. The situation is different if it is persistent and pervasive.

Which is why repentance actually involves stopping the behavior.

The Sawdust and the Plank

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in church and thought, “So and so totally needs to hear this.” Conviction stings. And sometimes it cuts deep. But, deflecting the injury to someone else is not the solution.

Which is so difficult. Because this Christian thing is supposed to be done in community. It’s our culture that wants a private, isolated faith.

But, letting someone else control you with scripture…that’s gonna leave a mark. Cult leaders always quote scripture better than you. Don’t be too impressed by it, or manipulated into continuing to suffer. You better make sure it’s God’s will for you to enable someone to continue sinning while you make excuses for them to never return to the Lord.

Scripture is not the thing to fear—assuming you get the gist of the Bible and letting others fill in blanks is the danger.

Scripture is for you. It is for you to measure yourself and let it change your heart. It is for the Holy Spirit to reshape your life.

It is also for you to weigh the motives and view the results of other people’s actions—before you allow them into your sanctum, or make pie with the fruit of their life.

It is, at times, for the fearful responsibility of teaching others. Namely, when they are seeking it out from you.

It is not for you to control others. Because no matter how much you memorize it, your heart might not be full of pure motivations. Your heart certainly doesn’t have all the information about them or God’s plan for them.

As Lisa Terkeurst pointed out in the book I can’t stop referring to (Good Boundaries and Goodbyes): the first sin happened after the enemy misquoted God’s words for his own purpose. And twisting scripture was the primary weapon Satan used against Christ when he tempted him in the desert.

So be careful anytime you feel like someone needs to see a scripture because you want a change in their life. Whether it’s taping up a verse on the fridge for your roommate, or texting unsolicited snippets to your grandchild.

A prophecy of Christ’s coming was: “a bruised reed he will not break and a faintly burning wick he will not snuff out,” so why do we justify using scripture like a weapon: two to the chest and one to the head?

Go to scripture for healing, let it guard you. Work on the plank. When people see YOUR thriving and victorious life, they may ask about the reason. Then, you can show them where the arsenal is.

So Many Voices

Posted on by Hilarey

A few years ago, I went to a woman’s retreat. A coordinator handed me a piece of paper and asked if I would stand and read it aloud at a certain point during the message. I said that I would love to help, and she told me how I’d be signaled. She left, and I opened the paper. On it was written:

God cannot be with me when I sin.

I felt immediate tension. It grew. I couldn’t put the why into words.

I love it when I hear something and a scripture pops into my mind. When God’s word confirms its validity or rejects it—and the matter is settled.

But sometimes there is just uneasiness. A conviction that something is wrong but you can’t put your finger on it. Because a spoonful of truth helps a lie go down a little easier.

Worship was still happening at the retreat. I stood, clenching the paper, stealing a sideways glance down at the words every so often. My adult daughter was with me. It was a weekend away for us to connect.

I could not say those words to her.

I folded the paper back up. Worship ended. We sat, and I thought about whether I could speak those words over anyone. I pictured a scenario where a woman returned home, remembering only one thing from the entire weekend: that she was cut off from God. God could not be with her.

And the lie would be delivered in my voice.

That made me feel overwhelmed. Under no circumstances could I stand in that congregation and say those words.

Writers tend to elevate the written word. After all, Christ is The Word that dwelt among us. The world was created through him, the Word, and for him. But the words that created light were spoken, not written. And I’m not just thinking about words this way because I’ve started narrating! This women’s retreat happened long before I dreamed of reading books aloud. But, I’ve had to process it a little deeper because of a recent audio project where I recorded myself saying, “Sin is separation from God.”

The words we speak hold more significance than exposing what we believe in our heart. Words have the power to bless or curse. And not modern vernacular of colorful language curse, but to speak harm into existence over a soul.

So—I went back to the woman coordinating the conference and told her I could not stand before the congregation and speak those words of alienation.

She said, “That’s fine.” Then looked at me, intently, and said, “Someone else will do it.”

I returned to my seat but couldn’t focus.

What do you do when lies are shared from the pulpit? Do you get up and quietly leave? Do you create dissension with your whispering and try to stage a coup? Do you stand up in the midst and rebuke? Many people seem to want the latter. To scream their voice out above the rest. I was in a church once where a man cried out, “Heresy” to the pastor, and the security team physically removed him. I cried all day. It partly inspired the scene in my fiction book, “Heart of Petra.” Discord among the brethren.

Shaking, I left my seat and found the woman again. I was trying to be brave for the sake of others, and told her that no one should stand up and say those things. Sometimes I think I’m a good communicator. But then things like the following happen.

She assured me that that statement was going to be read, even if I would not do it. Those words would be spoken over my daughter, and the entire congregation. She would see to it, regardless of how I felt.

I returned to my seat, wondering if there were only two options: to create chaos, or be an accomplice. I’d walked out of church service mid-sermon before, and I think I was planning to do it again the moment those words were spoken.

Now, fast forward. The coordinator could have saved me the adrenaline rush by letting me know that a half-dozen people in the audience had been given lies that sounded like doctrine and the speaker was going to listen to them, one at a time, and scripturally refute them. It was our event for the day.

But I know God allowed the misunderstanding for my benefit.

It was so I could process the junior-high-youth-group-false-doctrine that when you go into a party where there is drinking and sex; you go in alone. God waits for you on the porch because he can’t be around the sin.

It was also so I could understand how damaging pseudo truths are toward hurting people who already feel alienated from the church body. You are my favorite people.

Lastly, it was so I could contemplate how I wanted my voice to be used, and if I had the courage to do it.

A voice calling out in the wilderness

The interesting thing about God’s voice is that, even though the sound could be like a thousand waterfalls, I think it’s rare to hear his volume, anger and passion louder than the cacophony of all the others in this world. At least it will be until the end, since that verse about waterfalls is in Revelation. Don’t expect the energy of God’s voice to match persuasive dictators. You’re going to have to lean in to hear.

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 1 Kings 19:11-13

In case you’re wondering about that paper I held and the concept of God’s ability to be in the presence of your sin, God is Holy. He isn’t in the business of allowing us to continue destroying ourselves and others, and calling it good. But it isn’t like Christ bolts (with his fingers in his ears and a panicked expression) when someone sins, just because he can’t be around the dirty.

You will feel a difference in the connection of your intimacy with him and his voice. It’s a good reason to say “search me” when you first sit down to have a conversation. I see two reasons for an interruption of that communion with God. Knowing about, regarding and cherishing unrepentant sin in your heart and husbands who do not treat their wives as equals. God has good boundaries. He didn’t let Adam and Eve continue to eat from the tree of life and exist eternally in a state of sin. He cut off access and intimacy. And he won’t let you think everything is dandy if you are unrepentant when convicted.

But that misery isn’t abandonment. As my prayer partner recently reminded me, God promised, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” He is still there during your sin and others’ sin against you. Ignoring him intentionally will make communication harder. Being distracted by other voices will make it harder. You will hear him less when you practice not listening. If you intentionally, repeatedly, forcefully choose something over him, you may get to the point where he honors your choice.

Otherwise, you will hear his voice if it is your desire it and you make space to hear it. But do expect sometimes to wait. One thing I love about Spanish is that the verb “esperar” means “to hope,” “to expect,” and “to wait.”

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
Psalm 130:5-6

I recently heard an interview with Jamie Winship by podcaster Jeanie Allen called Conflict Zones, the CIA and Listening to God, which takes hearing that voice to a higher level. I’ve listened a few times, and can’t recommend it enough.

Have you thought about what you are using your voice for?

Take Luck

Posted on by Hilarey

“Take Luck” was from a skit by stand-up comedian Brian Regan, where he talked about intending to say, “Take Care,” and then switching to “Good Luck,” halfway through. It’s a funny one.

I think of it when sending a meaningless salutation. To offer without really offering. Take some luck from somewhere, and have it. Keep it with you. I also think of his skit when I see generic signs that say something like, “have faith” or “be blessed!”

Have faith in what? Be blessed how? Take some luck with you—I think there’s a bowl on the counter.

James 2:16 says, “and you say, “Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well”—but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?” It’s like when you pass a homeless person on a frigid night, on your way back to your car, and you call out, “Stay warm!”

There is power in words and power in prayer, and it is significant when you speak a blessing over someone’s life. That’s different from when someone has a need, you see it, and you have a tangible item like a spare coat. Something to hold on to.

Substance

Have you ever experienced making up a story about someone in your head? You go into the creepy part of Wonderland (down a dark rabbit trail.) And then when you see the person, or talk to them, you know right away that none of it is true. Your theory had no substance. Nothing to hold on to.

All it took was a conversation to find out the truth.

This used to be the annoying thing about simple romances to me when I was a young girl… especially because I value (kind) directness. I could never get behind a heroine whose entire conflict was a misunderstanding or an unspoken clarification. If they would just have that conversation already, there would be no book.

I have another quote from Good Boundaries and Goodbyes by Lisa Terkeurst, since it’s what I’m reading right now, “Relationships often die not because of conversations that were had but rather conversations that were needed, but never had.”

It’s true, we can write out scenarios that seem like reality. And then a bit of truth, not even a deep dive, and we find out differently.

Making it up

We watched a few episodes of the Good Place and their funny world-building includes a heaven that “no one could imagine.” They have a picture in heaven’s office of a guy who got really stoned and said, “This is what I think heaven will totally be like.” He’s heralded as the guru who got the closest.

It’s meant to be hilarious, but many people treat things of God, and eternity this way.

Most people believe they are critical thinkers, not emotional. But faith without substance is stoned-luck. No matter how critically you look at the void, it’s still empty.

Scales and measuring cups

My friend mentioned something to me that has proved itself true again and again. She said she thought she was eating in her caloric budget until she started writing things down. I’ve seen it myself. Recently, I saw somebody order something in a restaurant that looked delicious. So I tried to copy it at home. I made a light shrimp and fettuccine salad. But when I added it to MyFitnessPal, it was 800 calories. The restaurant had served double. Not exactly a light lunch.

And even more than just logging what you’re eating, you can think that something looks like an appropriate portion—until you weigh it. It’s doubtful that the average eater actually knows what 25 grams of fiber looks like over the course of a day. Due to years of cooking, I can judge weight and volume close to accurate and often cook without measuring. But when it really matters, I still get out the scale.

So, upon closer inspection, you see details more accurately when you actually weigh yourself against the Bible.

And let’s be honest, another interesting correlation is that the days I don’t want to obey or know the scale… those are the days I don’t measure food. So there’s a submission/discipline factor of not wanting to know if I measure up. Sometimes I just want to eat like an asshole. This is likely a larger contributing factor (besides laziness or time management) for not looking in the Bible. We don’t want to see if we measure up.

But here’s the problem, someone who is a Christian, but doesn’t read the Bible, is really susceptible to the weird tangents of Christian religion. Taking someone else’s word for what the scriptures say inevitably lays the groundwork for future deconstruction. This is what children do: accept the world through the lens and experience of those over them. This is not what a maturing Christian does.

You don’t want to have a void or ungrounded faith that can’t weather storms. Take some luck, and keep it with you. Care for it.

So, you can be frustrated with what you think about God. You can be frustrated with what you think about the church. But if you’re not holding it up to a depth of study in the word, you are not frustrated with substance. You’re following a rabbit down a hole. If you look at the way the letters to the church explained the right way to live—and then you see how Christians are disobeying—that’s something to hold on to.

I used to get annoyed when I saw a verse partially quoted. (Romans 8:1a) But then I realized that the chapters and verses were added. So even memorizing a whole verse can miss the larger context. That isn’t even to mention re-wording and misquoting. I’ve seen people defend mis-worded scripture with tears. This happens when you “already know what it says” before you read it. But that’s another topic.

I love a quote I heard from Theologian Preston Sprinkle. He says, “Let the strength of your conviction reflect the depth of your study.” Pick the mountain you’ll die on.

You are doing yourself an extreme disservice if you hold your convictions tight in your head and heart, without opening the Bible to check their weight.

So the point is, get out the scales. Grab on to something solid. Read for yourself.