"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger"
I, along with countless other Christians, went through a phase where this popular song was proclaimed, wept, and featured at every gathering. It became cliche, and I never heard anyone mention the gravity of what the words were asking. There was no warning that God will indeed take our trust to places it has never been before. He will allow us to be stretched to the end of our rope so that He can rebirth us into strong and powerful beings. And as He urges our feet deeper than we've wandered before, somewhere in the clamor He will whisper oh-so-quietly, "Do you trust me? Do you still have your eyes on me, when it hurts so deeply and the waves are crashing in around you? Do you really trust me?" Suddenly we'll be in the new territory, a place of trust we've never been before. It is alarming yet it is exactly what we prayed for.
But, there was little warning that the simple line of the song might actually happen.
Because then the terrifying prayer came true. In the blink of an eye, my trust was taken to a place where it had no borders. The heart that had declared through many choruses that it would walk on the water sank in doubt. I hadn't been warned to listen carefully for the small voice asking for my deep and true trust. Being taken to a place where trust is without borders is uncomfortable. For me it came in the form of Heartbreak. Hurt. Stress. Uncertainty. Grief. Doubt. I allowed the Enemy in, to steal my faith, kill my joy, and destroy the strength I possessed to keep my eyes above the waves.
Time has now diminished the intensity of the circumstances and I realize the trust that Christ was trying to work into the core of my soul. Time does not have to heal all wounds. I waited on time; Christ did not come so that I could wait on time, or allow the sadness to run its course. He came so that I might have abundant LIFE and healing. The permeating healing that my heart desperately needed comes only through victory in Christ.
And today I am victorious. My victory does not mean I did not feel sadness. Rather, I remained in that place for far too long. I learned the sweet comfort of knowing that the One who brings me to victory also sympathizes with my weakness, he bears my sadness. I had to endure the grief to understand how deeply the Father cares for me. He who carries my burdens, who stretches my trust and faith, is faithful to carry me to victory.
When I was dead in my sin, He made it well with my soul.
When I doubted, when I was chained in sadness, He made it well with my soul.
When I did not trust, He made it well with my soul.
When I did not listen to the small voice, He made it well with my soul.
When I allowed the Wicked One to use lies to drown out His promises, He made it well with my soul.
When I went to the Enemy's camp to reclaim all he stole from me, He made it well with my soul.
Today as I stand in victory, it IS well with my soul.
Today as I choose to embrace healing, joy, and peace, it IS well with my soul.
This is my reason to sing: Through it all, IT IS WELL.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Freedom.
My grandfather passed away last week and though my family is certainly mourning the loss, we are also rejoicing in him being with his Maker in perfect wholeness and healing. This has me thinking about the abundant life that Christians have and what abundant life means.
It was a few years ago around this time when I sat my mother down on a rainy evening and confessed that an eating disorder had wrapped its gnarly fingers around my heart and my health. It would still be a few months before I allowed Hope to shine its rays into my darkness and anchor my soul to the mercy found at the feet of Jesus. And even when I came to the point where I personally wanted freedom from bulimia, I have an enemy who wants to destroy every inch of freedom achieved.
When I went to a Christian college for my first semester I learned to become more comfortable with my testimony. I learned to tell my story not out of shame or disgust, but out of the attitude of "look how Christ has walked with me in my struggles." In the past six months, however, the enemy has found some chinks in my defenses. These fiery arrows that were shot at my heart turned into valuable lessons. Maybe I have not handled these circumstances with great spiritual maturity in the heat of the moment, but I have walked away from them as a much stronger person. I have learned the great value of speaking words that bring life to myself and to others, the importance of bringing thoughts captive, and that my heart must first and foremost be submitted to the authority of Christ.
There are certain things that I find sometimes trigger negative thought patterns and actions. I think it is incredibly hard to speak kindly to myself when others speak negatively to their bodies (or mine). It also is more difficult to think kindly about my body after a day of splurging or not exercising, or when I am tired or stressed. So this evening, after a weekend consisting of potlucks dinners, buffet-style meals provided to my family, and unhealthy road snacks for the trip to my grandfather's funeral I was almost surprised to find myself showing grace to my body and speaking life instead of encouraging a downward spiral in my thoughts. I realized that I am FREE, so why should I expect myself to still act or think in the ways I did when I was chained by my sin?
This led me to think of just how far I have come and what it's like to taste abundant freedom in this life, to know that chains no longer shackle my heart but to know beyond any doubt that I AM FREE. Sometimes I am tricked into thinking that I have to earn more freedom and only can lose one little chain at a time. This is a lie. When I surrendered my heart to Christ, He bought my freedom. He did not buy a short supply or one chain at a time. He paid for it ALL.
In Christ, I am not my struggle. I am not defined by the authority I chained my heart to in the past. I am not bound by what the enemy says to me or about me. My worth is not determined by others.
Every wrong that I have done is swallowed up in the right of Christ and wrong done to Him. My chains are swallowed, death is beaten, and sin has lost the battle.
And so today I am thankful for the glorious and abundant freedom that I have found and I choose to proclaim His excellencies to others.
It was a few years ago around this time when I sat my mother down on a rainy evening and confessed that an eating disorder had wrapped its gnarly fingers around my heart and my health. It would still be a few months before I allowed Hope to shine its rays into my darkness and anchor my soul to the mercy found at the feet of Jesus. And even when I came to the point where I personally wanted freedom from bulimia, I have an enemy who wants to destroy every inch of freedom achieved.
When I went to a Christian college for my first semester I learned to become more comfortable with my testimony. I learned to tell my story not out of shame or disgust, but out of the attitude of "look how Christ has walked with me in my struggles." In the past six months, however, the enemy has found some chinks in my defenses. These fiery arrows that were shot at my heart turned into valuable lessons. Maybe I have not handled these circumstances with great spiritual maturity in the heat of the moment, but I have walked away from them as a much stronger person. I have learned the great value of speaking words that bring life to myself and to others, the importance of bringing thoughts captive, and that my heart must first and foremost be submitted to the authority of Christ.
There are certain things that I find sometimes trigger negative thought patterns and actions. I think it is incredibly hard to speak kindly to myself when others speak negatively to their bodies (or mine). It also is more difficult to think kindly about my body after a day of splurging or not exercising, or when I am tired or stressed. So this evening, after a weekend consisting of potlucks dinners, buffet-style meals provided to my family, and unhealthy road snacks for the trip to my grandfather's funeral I was almost surprised to find myself showing grace to my body and speaking life instead of encouraging a downward spiral in my thoughts. I realized that I am FREE, so why should I expect myself to still act or think in the ways I did when I was chained by my sin?
This led me to think of just how far I have come and what it's like to taste abundant freedom in this life, to know that chains no longer shackle my heart but to know beyond any doubt that I AM FREE. Sometimes I am tricked into thinking that I have to earn more freedom and only can lose one little chain at a time. This is a lie. When I surrendered my heart to Christ, He bought my freedom. He did not buy a short supply or one chain at a time. He paid for it ALL.
In Christ, I am not my struggle. I am not defined by the authority I chained my heart to in the past. I am not bound by what the enemy says to me or about me. My worth is not determined by others.
Every wrong that I have done is swallowed up in the right of Christ and wrong done to Him. My chains are swallowed, death is beaten, and sin has lost the battle.
And so today I am thankful for the glorious and abundant freedom that I have found and I choose to proclaim His excellencies to others.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Yoga's Life Lessons
Confidence and endorphins from a good workout led me tonight to add a longer yoga routine to my daily ritual (I definitely recommend this one!). I have my normal set of Sadie Nardini, Jillian Michaels, or BeFit yoga practices I enjoy but after a week of free styling my own practice I was in the mood for something structured and slightly different. Despite the familiarity of the poses, something about them felt especially challenging.
After holding each pose for what felt like an obscene length of time, Nardini's words, "Hold this pose for 3 more breaths" offered hope for shaky muscles and a tired mind. While inflicting such pain and weariness, however, Nardini repeatedly reminded that transformation does not come without pain. Transformation happens through the burn, the holding of poses, and the pushing through of those final breaths in the practice. Without those key ingredients, there is no transformation.
All of Nardini's talk of body transformation brought to mind a motivational (and, for once, not ominous) quote of Jillian Michaels. During one of her yoga instructions she states that "it's not about perfect. It's about effort. And when you bring that effort every single day, that's where transformation happens... It is not a future event, it is a present day activity."
Though these instructors mentioned transformation in relation to yoga, I find them true for life. Sometimes transformation cannot come without great pain. The sticky situations must be endured just a little longer and it may be tempting to give up or give in to discouragement when the best does not feel good enough. Life, however, is not about being perfect, it is indeed about effort. Transformation happens when effort is delivered. When the heart begins to shake from weariness the exhausted soul should not give up. Just as muscles have to shake and endure uncomfortable positions to see growth, the heart similarly must walk through fire. But push through; the path of seeming fire may lead straight to transformation.
I close with the words of C. S. Lewis:
"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: It would be a jolly site harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
After holding each pose for what felt like an obscene length of time, Nardini's words, "Hold this pose for 3 more breaths" offered hope for shaky muscles and a tired mind. While inflicting such pain and weariness, however, Nardini repeatedly reminded that transformation does not come without pain. Transformation happens through the burn, the holding of poses, and the pushing through of those final breaths in the practice. Without those key ingredients, there is no transformation.
All of Nardini's talk of body transformation brought to mind a motivational (and, for once, not ominous) quote of Jillian Michaels. During one of her yoga instructions she states that "it's not about perfect. It's about effort. And when you bring that effort every single day, that's where transformation happens... It is not a future event, it is a present day activity."
Though these instructors mentioned transformation in relation to yoga, I find them true for life. Sometimes transformation cannot come without great pain. The sticky situations must be endured just a little longer and it may be tempting to give up or give in to discouragement when the best does not feel good enough. Life, however, is not about being perfect, it is indeed about effort. Transformation happens when effort is delivered. When the heart begins to shake from weariness the exhausted soul should not give up. Just as muscles have to shake and endure uncomfortable positions to see growth, the heart similarly must walk through fire. But push through; the path of seeming fire may lead straight to transformation.
I close with the words of C. S. Lewis:
"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: It would be a jolly site harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Handiworks and Workmanships.
The words that kept repeating in my mind were, "Your handiwork is glorious!"
Because really, that's what it is. It is beautiful and glorious and majestic; there are hardly words enough to describe the goodness of God in His creation, and certainly too few words to describe the Creator. The heavens declare God's grandeur.
I have never once looked at a sunset or some other spectacular "handiwork" and scoffed at it. I've never seen it and stated, "You know, you really left a lot to be desired today. You actually are quite flawed. You didn't meet the mark of what I thought you should look like. Your colors were not vibrant, your originality was lacking, your beauty was in incomplete. Really quite inadequate."
Back up 8 hours in my day to my commute to school when I listened to Ephesians on the YouVersion app. Chapter 2 states that we are God's workmanship, created in Christ to do good works. When I think of handiwork I imagine something designed by hand but not requiring the degree of skill or technique that a workmanship might. Still valuable, still important, and still beautiful but not a workmanship. Workmanship... Generally, when I think of qualities of a workmanship I envision an artist at work before a tapestry. He devotes every waking moment to crafting something glorious that will bring fame to his name. He pours his creativity, his time, and possibly his very soul into his workmanship. A good artist will ensure that each of his masterpieces possesses a unique character of himself, as if he imparts a piece of his image to his work.
And when the artist completes his work, he takes a step back and admire his artistry. He will be proud of his work and overlook the flaws it might possess. He devoted his heart to creating it, why would he be quick to point out its shortcomings? He views it and sees its potential and goodness. He declares his art exceptional because it is his workmanship.
How fascinating that I cannot bring myself to speak negatively about the handiwork of God (his creation in nature) but daily speak harsh and disrespectful words to the workmanship (the image bearer). When I bask in the glory of creation, I bask in the very glory of God. The creation points to the creator. But I was struck that when I demote the creation, I likewise reduce the Creator.
I recently have found myself slipping into the nasty old (yet very familiar) pattern of self-disrespect. I notice only the shortcomings and inadequacies. I pick a fine tooth comb through failures, faults, undesirable events and incompleteness. Yet when I take this workmanship and declare it unsatisfactory, I imply that the Creator and his creativity are faulty.
And so this is a daily reason to sing. When the creator looks at this creation he sees his image bearer. He does not see it as possessing too much of this or too little of that. He chooses not to see the glaring faults or not-so-glorious inadequacies. If God can believe in the beauty of his workmanship, the workmanship should believe in the beauty, too.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Sneaker Emotions
Some emotions are reliable, and it is easy to predict when they will arise. They are the steady ones experienced throughout the day, the week, the normal drone of life.
Recently, I have been surprised by a wave of sneak emotions. I tend to take advantage of the reliability of my "feels" - generally happy, generally optimistic, and generally a little slowed down after a string of cloudy days. These sneaker emotions came like a sucker punch in the gut. They appeared with zero warning yet invaded with optimal force. I despise the general feeling of sadness and often am guilty of covering them up with happiness (fake it till you make it, right?).
I have felt this set of sneaker emotions before and I hoped to not feel them again. A large portion of disappointment, an unhealthy pressure, a tinge of sadness, a darkening discouragement. When these sneaker emotions left me the last time, I remember pleading that I would not feel them again. I shook my finger at God and declared I was not strong enough to endure a second round.
It is tempting to cave to the popular idea that I have to be ok/fine/good. I believe the more courageous decision, however, is to allow oneself to feel all the feels sometimes.
And so today I decide to be brave. It takes far more courage to look these emotions in the eye and actually process and plunge deeper to the heart of their meaning than shoveling fake happiness over them. Growth is not easy and the adventure of experiencing the growing pains is rarely comfortable - but He who calls on the journey is faithful. Oh, He is faithful!
I was never created to be depressed, guilty, condemned, ashamed, or unworthy. I was created to be victorious. Victory does not mean never experiencing those feelings but it does mean I will have to look them in the eye and declare that in the end they do not have power over me.
I conclude with a quote by Edward Vernon Rickenbacker: "Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you are scared."
So today, though I am afraid, I will feel all the feels coursing through my veins. I will feel them, face them, and conquer them.
Today, though I am afraid, I will put my trust in Him who feels the feels with me but is the author of all peace and joy and fulfillment.
Recently, I have been surprised by a wave of sneak emotions. I tend to take advantage of the reliability of my "feels" - generally happy, generally optimistic, and generally a little slowed down after a string of cloudy days. These sneaker emotions came like a sucker punch in the gut. They appeared with zero warning yet invaded with optimal force. I despise the general feeling of sadness and often am guilty of covering them up with happiness (fake it till you make it, right?).
I have felt this set of sneaker emotions before and I hoped to not feel them again. A large portion of disappointment, an unhealthy pressure, a tinge of sadness, a darkening discouragement. When these sneaker emotions left me the last time, I remember pleading that I would not feel them again. I shook my finger at God and declared I was not strong enough to endure a second round.
It is tempting to cave to the popular idea that I have to be ok/fine/good. I believe the more courageous decision, however, is to allow oneself to feel all the feels sometimes.
And so today I decide to be brave. It takes far more courage to look these emotions in the eye and actually process and plunge deeper to the heart of their meaning than shoveling fake happiness over them. Growth is not easy and the adventure of experiencing the growing pains is rarely comfortable - but He who calls on the journey is faithful. Oh, He is faithful!
I was never created to be depressed, guilty, condemned, ashamed, or unworthy. I was created to be victorious. Victory does not mean never experiencing those feelings but it does mean I will have to look them in the eye and declare that in the end they do not have power over me.
I conclude with a quote by Edward Vernon Rickenbacker: "Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you are scared."
So today, though I am afraid, I will feel all the feels coursing through my veins. I will feel them, face them, and conquer them.
Today, though I am afraid, I will put my trust in Him who feels the feels with me but is the author of all peace and joy and fulfillment.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
The Irreducible Minimum
This semester of college has presented me with numerous different experiences than I faced last semester. One of these new aspects is the commute. To redeem the 40 minute drive in the mornings, I decided to start listening to podcasts by motivational speakers or pastors. (One can only listen to the top 40 hits before memorizing every word and growing weary of the tunes.)
This morning's message was about the irreducible minimums in an individual's life. The speaker, Louie Giglio, posed the question of, when everything else is stripped away, what is the one thing (the irreducible minimum) that you cannot live without?
At first I gave the obligatory Christian response: The one thing I cannot live without is Jesus. Jesus is always a safe answer in Christian circles.
I almost forsook the podcast believing it would be just another preachy message about how Jesus needs to be first in a believer's life. I halfheartedly thought of the trivial things that add pleasure to my life but that I could easily (or not so easily) live without, such as coffee, Instagram, dark chocolate, Ella Fitzgerald, hot tea... these things are nice but in a life or death situation I could probably survive without them (though I am not too sure about the coffee).
Then the contemplations began (this 40 minute drive provides almost too much time to think). When someone has a revelation of the one thing they cannot live without, if they are wise they will do everything in their power to make sure they always have a steady supply of this, whatever it may be. They will chase it and pursue it and grab onto it with a persevering grip. It will be the prize that motivates their very existence. Pondering this somehow hit the nail on the head in my thoughts.
I have spent this semester chasing so many things, acting as if I only achieved them this growing hole in my heart could somehow be satiated.
I realized one "reducible" minimum when I viewed a test grade on this fateful Monday morning. My grades have been both a topic of pride and insecurity. Something whispers to my soul that my grades reflect my competencies not just as a student but as a whole human being. I am guilty of surrendering a piece of my worth to those numbers circled in red. I became comfortable and dependent upon my A average, mistakenly believing that my identity, worth, and competency were all reflected in that. I have often stated in the past that I would "not be able to handle" making anything less than an A. On this fateful Monday while the B swam before me through a few immature tears, I took a deep breath and repeated the words of Aibileen Clark from The Help: "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Achieving all As is certainly a good goal, but it is merely a reducible minimum. Life goes on, even with Bs.
There is a more prominent, yet very reducible irreducible minimum that I have recently established in my life. I am attempting to convince myself that it is reducible and life will continue even though it has not gone as anticipated. At my former college, I took advantage of the very deep, vulnerable, honest, and close connections I made with people. In my optimistic spirit, I believed that life at my new school would be a continuation of my former college. I would make friends and establish a brand new identity in this brand new large circle of friends. These connections, too, would be deep and personal.
Unfortunately, my new college very much has the mindset of a commuter school. Connections are few and far between. I began keeping tally of the people I would speak to and conversations I would have in one day, in a desperate effort to challenge myself to speak to people even when these attempts were hardly productive. This tally soon began to feel like a number representing my silent pleas throughout the day, begging for that feeling of connection and belonging in social circles. The desire to establish friendship connections motivated a piece of my existence that simply was not being satisfied.
I firmly believe that friendships are important and I will not abandon either of these goals, to make As or to make friends, but when I elevate these goals to a position of being irreducible minimums, my hopes will be sorely disappointed and my heart never satisfied.
Instead of pursuing these goals and placing them as highest priority in my life, it is imperative to remember the goal that will not disappoint. "I run straight toward the goal to win the prize that God's heavenly call offers in Jesus Christ" (Phil. 3:14).
As I pursue the prize of Christ, my grade will not be a reflection of my worth but of a best attempt - an attempt that brings honor to the One who is truly deserving.
As I pursue the prize, I will not seek to talk to others for my own benefit. I will connect with them so that I can love extravagantly and not prioritize my own "need" for friendship.
And really, as I pursue the prize of the call of Christ, this should be my goal anyways. To love extravagantly, to put others first extravagantly, to be extravagantly faithful, and to be extravagantly hopeful, joyful, and persevering.
All of these ponderings still do not answer the question. What is an irreducible minimum?
This morning's message was about the irreducible minimums in an individual's life. The speaker, Louie Giglio, posed the question of, when everything else is stripped away, what is the one thing (the irreducible minimum) that you cannot live without?
At first I gave the obligatory Christian response: The one thing I cannot live without is Jesus. Jesus is always a safe answer in Christian circles.
I almost forsook the podcast believing it would be just another preachy message about how Jesus needs to be first in a believer's life. I halfheartedly thought of the trivial things that add pleasure to my life but that I could easily (or not so easily) live without, such as coffee, Instagram, dark chocolate, Ella Fitzgerald, hot tea... these things are nice but in a life or death situation I could probably survive without them (though I am not too sure about the coffee).
Then the contemplations began (this 40 minute drive provides almost too much time to think). When someone has a revelation of the one thing they cannot live without, if they are wise they will do everything in their power to make sure they always have a steady supply of this, whatever it may be. They will chase it and pursue it and grab onto it with a persevering grip. It will be the prize that motivates their very existence. Pondering this somehow hit the nail on the head in my thoughts.
I have spent this semester chasing so many things, acting as if I only achieved them this growing hole in my heart could somehow be satiated.
I realized one "reducible" minimum when I viewed a test grade on this fateful Monday morning. My grades have been both a topic of pride and insecurity. Something whispers to my soul that my grades reflect my competencies not just as a student but as a whole human being. I am guilty of surrendering a piece of my worth to those numbers circled in red. I became comfortable and dependent upon my A average, mistakenly believing that my identity, worth, and competency were all reflected in that. I have often stated in the past that I would "not be able to handle" making anything less than an A. On this fateful Monday while the B swam before me through a few immature tears, I took a deep breath and repeated the words of Aibileen Clark from The Help: "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Achieving all As is certainly a good goal, but it is merely a reducible minimum. Life goes on, even with Bs.
There is a more prominent, yet very reducible irreducible minimum that I have recently established in my life. I am attempting to convince myself that it is reducible and life will continue even though it has not gone as anticipated. At my former college, I took advantage of the very deep, vulnerable, honest, and close connections I made with people. In my optimistic spirit, I believed that life at my new school would be a continuation of my former college. I would make friends and establish a brand new identity in this brand new large circle of friends. These connections, too, would be deep and personal.
Unfortunately, my new college very much has the mindset of a commuter school. Connections are few and far between. I began keeping tally of the people I would speak to and conversations I would have in one day, in a desperate effort to challenge myself to speak to people even when these attempts were hardly productive. This tally soon began to feel like a number representing my silent pleas throughout the day, begging for that feeling of connection and belonging in social circles. The desire to establish friendship connections motivated a piece of my existence that simply was not being satisfied.
I firmly believe that friendships are important and I will not abandon either of these goals, to make As or to make friends, but when I elevate these goals to a position of being irreducible minimums, my hopes will be sorely disappointed and my heart never satisfied.
Instead of pursuing these goals and placing them as highest priority in my life, it is imperative to remember the goal that will not disappoint. "I run straight toward the goal to win the prize that God's heavenly call offers in Jesus Christ" (Phil. 3:14).
As I pursue the prize of Christ, my grade will not be a reflection of my worth but of a best attempt - an attempt that brings honor to the One who is truly deserving.
As I pursue the prize, I will not seek to talk to others for my own benefit. I will connect with them so that I can love extravagantly and not prioritize my own "need" for friendship.
And really, as I pursue the prize of the call of Christ, this should be my goal anyways. To love extravagantly, to put others first extravagantly, to be extravagantly faithful, and to be extravagantly hopeful, joyful, and persevering.
All of these ponderings still do not answer the question. What is an irreducible minimum?
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Making Lemonade out of Lemons
During my last shift at work, I was tasked with making lemonade.
The first step was assessing the state of the four cases of lemons, weeding out the moldy and rotten ones, and cleaning the lemons that remained.
Where the first step focused on outward appearance, the second began changing the lemon's shape by cutting them in half to make the next step easier.
The third step was by far the longest. It was time to squeeze the lemons - change their shape, transform their nature, and remodel their image. As I hovered over the motorized squeezer, I smirked a little thinking that I was fulfilling the cliche saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
And then my smirk disappeared when I had this crazy revelation that a walk with God is like making lemonade.
God, the squeezer, takes each individual lemon (or human, in this case) and assesses the state of their being. While looking deep into their hearts he sees them not just as what they are in that moment but everything that they could and are meant to be. He is not hindered by the messy appearance - he looks beyond the moldy nature to consider the true purpose. Meanwhile, the lemon is oblivious to the plans the squeezer has. She does not know the pain and discomfort set before her, she knows only that in her current form she feels like she just isn't quite existing in her most productive state.
The squeezer then takes his lemon in hand and splices it right down the middle. The lemon soon adjusts to this new form of existence. Changed. Different. Never going back to the old. Which is true, the lemon has encountered the squeezer and no lemon should ever be the same after this. The squeezer always brings change.
The lemon cannot remain in such a state for very long. Though it is easy to become comfortable this way, if allowed to rest in this form the lemon will soon become wrinkly and some of it's worth might begin to wane. The squeezer then takes the lemon again in hand and this time truly changes it. The lemon is exposed to the wringer and the flesh is separated from the heart and squeezed down to pure juice.
At what point in this process does the lemon have any right to say to the squeezer, "I know you intend me for different purposes, but I would like to forego the hard work and take the easy route?"
How often recently have I, a mere lemon in the hands of the Squeezer, tried to wave my pointy little finger at the one holding me and tell Him my different plan? The squeezer will not abandon the work He has begun until he sees it to completion. He sees me in my meager form and deems me worthy of the call of Christ - it is not an easy call, though. My nature must be changed, my heart separated from my flesh, and my image completely remodeled. This change is uncomfortable. There are times of doubt, questioning, and uncertainty. Does the Squeezer really understand what is best for me? Does He really mean what He says when He states this new form is necessary for growth, that I must push through to see the goodness? And if I do push through, will the goodness really come?
The answer is yes. Even in the dry, the lonely, the confusing, the uncomfortable, the wearisome, and the painful seasons, the Squeezer knows what form in which the lemon will best function. He understands the pain inflicted by the squeezing and wringing of everything on the inside, and He promises to never leave in these seasons.
And He definitely means what he says when the goodness will come. The beautiful thing is that, when in lemonade form, there is only a small ratio of lemon juice in the sugar and water mixture. So it is with God. There is only a little of us remaining, but the rest of our beings are filled with God. We are in Him and He is in us. He fills the cracks and inadequacies presented by our slight strength with His goodness and never failing strength. When we are poured out into others' lives or into the trivialities of life, God is there always ready to fill us with more of Him and His grace and joy and strength. On its own, the lemon is nothing. It is quick to rot and fade into a state of worthlessness. But with the Squeezer, the lemon is given immeasurable worth and purpose. I was encouraged by making lemonade not to be discouraged or dismayed by the squeezing and pressure of life but to hold onto to the hope of the goodness of the call presented to me.
The first step was assessing the state of the four cases of lemons, weeding out the moldy and rotten ones, and cleaning the lemons that remained.
Where the first step focused on outward appearance, the second began changing the lemon's shape by cutting them in half to make the next step easier.
The third step was by far the longest. It was time to squeeze the lemons - change their shape, transform their nature, and remodel their image. As I hovered over the motorized squeezer, I smirked a little thinking that I was fulfilling the cliche saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
And then my smirk disappeared when I had this crazy revelation that a walk with God is like making lemonade.
God, the squeezer, takes each individual lemon (or human, in this case) and assesses the state of their being. While looking deep into their hearts he sees them not just as what they are in that moment but everything that they could and are meant to be. He is not hindered by the messy appearance - he looks beyond the moldy nature to consider the true purpose. Meanwhile, the lemon is oblivious to the plans the squeezer has. She does not know the pain and discomfort set before her, she knows only that in her current form she feels like she just isn't quite existing in her most productive state.
The squeezer then takes his lemon in hand and splices it right down the middle. The lemon soon adjusts to this new form of existence. Changed. Different. Never going back to the old. Which is true, the lemon has encountered the squeezer and no lemon should ever be the same after this. The squeezer always brings change.
The lemon cannot remain in such a state for very long. Though it is easy to become comfortable this way, if allowed to rest in this form the lemon will soon become wrinkly and some of it's worth might begin to wane. The squeezer then takes the lemon again in hand and this time truly changes it. The lemon is exposed to the wringer and the flesh is separated from the heart and squeezed down to pure juice.
At what point in this process does the lemon have any right to say to the squeezer, "I know you intend me for different purposes, but I would like to forego the hard work and take the easy route?"
How often recently have I, a mere lemon in the hands of the Squeezer, tried to wave my pointy little finger at the one holding me and tell Him my different plan? The squeezer will not abandon the work He has begun until he sees it to completion. He sees me in my meager form and deems me worthy of the call of Christ - it is not an easy call, though. My nature must be changed, my heart separated from my flesh, and my image completely remodeled. This change is uncomfortable. There are times of doubt, questioning, and uncertainty. Does the Squeezer really understand what is best for me? Does He really mean what He says when He states this new form is necessary for growth, that I must push through to see the goodness? And if I do push through, will the goodness really come?
The answer is yes. Even in the dry, the lonely, the confusing, the uncomfortable, the wearisome, and the painful seasons, the Squeezer knows what form in which the lemon will best function. He understands the pain inflicted by the squeezing and wringing of everything on the inside, and He promises to never leave in these seasons.
And He definitely means what he says when the goodness will come. The beautiful thing is that, when in lemonade form, there is only a small ratio of lemon juice in the sugar and water mixture. So it is with God. There is only a little of us remaining, but the rest of our beings are filled with God. We are in Him and He is in us. He fills the cracks and inadequacies presented by our slight strength with His goodness and never failing strength. When we are poured out into others' lives or into the trivialities of life, God is there always ready to fill us with more of Him and His grace and joy and strength. On its own, the lemon is nothing. It is quick to rot and fade into a state of worthlessness. But with the Squeezer, the lemon is given immeasurable worth and purpose. I was encouraged by making lemonade not to be discouraged or dismayed by the squeezing and pressure of life but to hold onto to the hope of the goodness of the call presented to me.
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