Relinquishing the Pen

I tear the love story I’ve written into shreds and throw them into the fire. Burying my face in my arms, I lie crumpled on the floor, unable to believe I could have let myself get carried away like that. I have hurt not only myself, but also the others involved in the story I have penned for myself.

The Lover of my soul appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and sits beside me while I cry. His arms wrap tightly around me, and His heart lavishes compassion on me. He doesn’t say a word; His presence is enough to soon calm my tears.

I look up at Him. “What did I do wrong?”

His eyes are filled with sadness. His heart is breaking for me; I can tell. I want to go back and erase it all. I want a fresh start. “Beloved, you did not ask of Me.”

I collapse into tears again, ashamed that I have walked away from my truest Friend. He stays beside me, comforting me. He assures me He will not leave me. And then He says the one thing I have been dying to hear.

“I can make it all go away. I can give you a new beginning.”

I look up with hope and dash away the tears. “Do You mean it?”

“I do. All you have to do is give Me that pen, and I’ll start it all over for you.”

I look down at the pen upon which His eyes are resting. I grimace. “Lord, this isn’t just the pen I’ve used to write my love story… It’s what I’ve been using to write my life story.”

“If you would have Me write a beautiful love story, I must have your entire life. But the choice is up to you.”

I gaze into His eyes, so full of love. I know that if I give up the pen, He will write a story beyond what I can even comprehend. But even so, I enjoy the security of my pen. I enjoy having the option of saying “no” to something He suggests. If nothing else, it is entertaining to try out certain plot devices, even if they had never worked out before and likely wouldn’t in the future.

“How about we collaborate?” I suggest hopefully. “I’ll leave the pen on that desk there, and when You want to write something You can, and when I want to write something, I can.”

“The choice is up to you,” He repeats.

I smile, glad that we’ve come to an agreement.

Time passes. I find myself in the middle of another love story. Since I’ve asked my heavenly Lover to collaborate, I’m sure that this time, it will all work out all right.

But it’s not too long before I find myself ripping it to shreds and tossing it in the fire yet again.

“Why didn’t you intervene?” I rage at Him. “I told You we would collaborate. Why didn’t You make it all work out in the end?”

“You began with ideas that were all your own – not Mine. If you had realized this earlier and asked Me to step in, I would have – but you never left the pen. You asked Me to collaborate, but you never even stepped aside and asked My opinion.”

I stare down at the pen. He is right. I had never once abandoned my post as author. Even if I had, all of His time would have been spent cleaning up the mess I had made. There would be no time for new adventures. If we switched off writing, it would be an endless rollercoaster, where I would write myself into a corner, He would write me out of it, and then it would all begin again. There was nothing beautiful about that.

“What do I have to do, then?” I ask.

“You have to give it up. Completely.”

I look down at the pen that has been my best friend and my worst enemy. Can I really leave it all behind? Can I forsake what I want to write into my life? Can I leave it entirely up to Him?

I look at Him. He looks back. He is longing for me to hand the pen over. He has a story in mind. I can see it written all over His face. He wants to write it, to make it all turn out beautifully, to bring it to a glorious ending that’s even better than the fairy tales.

I look at the pen again. I think of the heartache that it has cost me. I think of all the people I’ve hurt by my unskilled writing.

I walk up to my Lover, fall to the ground before Him, and there leave the pen. Never to pick it up again.

Ducks and Direction

I am a list person. I adore them. I make lots of them. I cleaned out my closet yesterday and found notebooks filled with lists galore. From "Pretty Flowers" to "Career Ideas" to "The Husband List," I could make a list about just about anything. I like having everything laid out, everything on the table, all the ducks in a row.

I like life to look a lot like this:



AREN'T THEY CUTE?? They're so tiny and fuzzy and perfectly in a row, waiting for their turn to climb up over the ginormous mountain in front of them. That's what I like life to be like. One by one, my little "ducks" -- events, people, decisions, whatever -- all overcome the obstacle in front of them. Perfectly in a row. Not going, "HEY what's that over there?" and running out of line to dance in the middle of the street. No. My ducks stay in a row, by golly, and if they don't, then I'm not a happy camper.

However, most of the time, my ducks look a lot more like this:



And I'm like, "HEY! What are you doing? Aren't you all supposed to be in a row? You know, being cute and fluffy? I mean, not that you're not cute and fluffy still, but I want you in a ROW!! And YOOOOOOU! BIG DUCK!! What is the meaning of this? Aren't you supposed to keep them all perfectly ordered for me??"

Jesus has been teaching me a lot about not needing all my ducks to be in a row.

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience..."

There's nothing wrong with having a plan. There's nothing wrong with knowing exactly what we're going to do, when we're going to do it, and what's going to come of it. After all, many, many times in the Bible, God not only told His people what to say, but He told them what would be said in response to their message!

But we are supposed to be like Christ; and Christ was unruffled when His evening's plans were interrupted. When Jesus' dear friend John the Baptist died, Jesus "withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." I can only imagine He wanted some time to process His grief. He wanted to be by Himself, in order to talk with His Father and mourn for His beloved friend.

But being Jesus, He wasn't left alone long. People followed Him. I can imagine what my response would have been: "Are you people stupid? Can't you see I'm mourning here? This duck is no longer in line, and I need a little time to get it back where it's supposed to be, okay? I'll deal with you when I'm ready, just please, go away!!"

That's not what Jesus did. Jesus "had compassion on them and healed their sick." He didn't latch onto the nearest excuse to send them away to get their own food; He fed them (all five thousand -- and that was just the men). He loved them. He let the "duck" of His grief get out of the row, trusting that His Father would gently urge it back into line when the time was right.

Things don't always go the way we want them to. But it's in those moments that miracles occur.

Flexibility. A willingness to "go with the flow." That's what God has been impressing on my heart. He doesn't want life to be a list with everything laid out, everything familiar, nothing mysterious. "What need have we of a guide were the path a familiar one?" asked Elisabeth Elliot. Moments of uncertainty are when we look into our Guide's face and ask, "Where next, Daddy?" It is those moments when we experience intimacy and direction like never before.

My ducks aren't always in a row. But that's okay. They're still ducks. They're still cute and fluffy. They'll still get where they need to go.

It'll just be more of an adventure along the way.

Better Than Hollywood

I recently read a comment from a young man who stated that women need to turn off the chick flicks, put down the romance novels, and become realistic about their expectations of men. A song on my iPod declares that the moment when the singer meets the love of his life will "play out like a scene straight off the silver screen."

It does seem that many of us have unrealistic expectations about love fueled by Hollywood and the publishing world. We cannot expect a silver-screen love story when we don't have writers from the silver screen whispering into our ear at every turn what exactly we're supposed to do and say.

However, we have a much greater Author who is dying to script our life and love stories. He teaches us that the version of romance and love in movies is so shallow compared to what He has to offer. The man (or woman) He wants to build for us is nothing like the shallow, self-centered protagonists who also happen to have incredible good looks, impeccable timing, and impossibly clever conversational skills.

Heaven's standards are higher than Hollywood's. So while I may be lowering my standards in regard to "Has oodles and oodles of money" and "Has perfect muscles without spending any time at the gym," God demands that we raise our standards in the things that He really cares about. After all, marriage is supposed to be an earthly reflection of the divine romance between Christ and His church. He is not going to settle for anything less than a perfect romance!

So what has God been teaching me about the kind of husband He wants to build for me? The following was written after an afternoon with my heavenly Bridegroom:

He will be tall. He will be strong. He will be able to carry any burden. He will daily go forth into battle. He will daily spend his life, living under the knowledge that he could be asked to give up his body and breath at any time. He will love with an inhuman love. He will spread out his arms and stretch out his neck to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. He will refuse defeat. He will refuse mediocrity.

When I say tall, I mean possessing significant spiritual stature. When I say strong, I mean the muscles of his prayer life will be well-developed from constant use. When I say he will be able to carry any burden, I mean that his life is not his own – he is living the life of Jesus Christ, who thereby carries his burdens for him.

He will be a man completely devoted to doing the will of his Father in heaven. He will be a warrior for the Kingdom of Christ. He will be a true man, heedless of the world’s applause and lost in love for his God. He will be filled with joy in the King’s presence. He will be excited about the Gospel.

He will be faithful. He will be kind. He will be filled with the Holy Spirit’s discretion. He will confront trouble head-on, unafraid to run into the fray and risk life and limb for the glory of the Great Commander. He will be horrified by the injustices of the world, but confident in the power of the One who has declared, “It is finished.” He will not cease pleading and fighting until the will of heaven is done on earth.

It may seem like a tall order to fill. Perhaps you think there is no such man. But I believe that God has created me for nothing less than this passionate follower of Christ; and if there is no one on earth who matches this description, my heavenly Prince is far more than able to satisfy all the longings of my feminine heart.

You, too, are worth more than a Hollywood bad boy or nigh-masculine businesswoman. Do not lower your standards; rather, allow them to be reshaped, refine, and raised to the standard of Christ.

I shall not settle. I shall wait on the Lord, pursuing Him and becoming the kind of woman that the kind of man described is looking for. I have complete confidence in my God that He can bring this man into my life, in His perfect timing. If He does not, I shall rest secure, for "as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you."

The Living Christ

"He is risen!"

"He is risen, indeed!"

Why, you might ask, is this very Easter-ish dialogue being posted in July? I will tell you why.

Because Jesus is still alive.

"Christ Jesus, who died -- more than that, who was raised to life -- is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us." ~Romans 8:34

He's not only alive, He's alive with a job: To intercede for us. To stand in the gap between us and the Father. To be able to do that, He has to know what's going on in our lives. He has to know the thoughts we think and the prayers we pray. He's alive, and is not distant, He is here.

Too often, I think we believe in the God who rose from the dead -- not the God who has risen. We believe Christ conquered death and can save us from hell, but do we believe any more than that? Do we believe that He is right here in this room, waiting to speak to us? Do we believe that He can still heal the sick and raise the dead? Or does our faith cease at salvation and fail to believe Him for the full power of God in shaping and living the Christ-life? He is capable of so much more, and how He longs for us to open up our hearts and our minds so that He can show us!

How many of us go through life never experiencing the full power of the risen Christ? Sometimes I think we are so focused on worshiping the Jesus who died for us that we forget the Jesus who lives for us. His death, while so powerful, so important, so poignant, was only made victorious through His resurrection.

And not only did He return to life -- He remains in life. We do not serve a dead God! We serve a God whose power keeps the earth in motion. We serve a God who is present in our everyday lives -- and is literally right beside us at every moment. His heart beats, His eyes see, His smile lights up the faces of His children. He is alive.

Oh Lord, may we come to live in the light of that glorious reality.

Jesus Goggles

"So from now on we regard no one from a worldy point of view..." ~2 Corinthians 5:16

I stared at the woman and willed her to open her mouth. She wouldn't. I gently pushed the spoon against her lips. They would not part. Her eyes stared at me -- I couldn't tell if it was a blank stare, or a malicious one. Either way, it was unsettling me. I shifted in my chair and tried to smile. Jesus, this is ridiculous! I don't have time for this!

"Kendall... Look again. What do you see?"

I looked. I saw a time-worn face; work-worn hands; and sorrow-worn eyes.

"That's My beloved, Kendall."

I blinked and looked again. Her? I knew God loved everybody, and loved them equally. And I also knew that He'd been revealing to me exactly how He felt about me. It was a kind of love I couldn't even begin to comprehend. He passionately longed after me, ached for me to come spend time with me, adored me. I was His beloved, His bride. But that was me. Surely not this woman? Surely He didn't long for her in the same way. Surely His affection for her was comparable to the peck on the cheek that estranged relatives awkwardly exchange at family reunions. Surely time had diminished some of the passion He had for her.

"That's My beloved. How will you treat the one I have called? The one I call holy? The one I call beautiful?"

I took a deep breath. Well, Lord, I can't really help her if she won't let me... So You have to open the mouth of Your beloved!"

"Open yours first."

A smile made its way to my lips as I said, "You have beautiful hair. And that's a wonderful color on you." I put down the spoonful I'd been working at for so long and got a fresh one. "This looks delicious. Would you like to try some?"

Her mouth opened.

The moment you first see Christ's beloved in the face of one person, you begin seeing His prize and His treasure everywhere. He has a story with each of them. He knows everything they've ever been through. Age does not affect His love whatsoever; some of the most poignant examples of Christ's beloved are seen in newborn babies and those about to enter their heavenly home. He is longing after each of them. He treasures them. He smiles and cries with them. All of them.

At times, I protest. "Not him, God. Why in the world would you want him?"

"Him."

And then, if I'm willing, He steps in and gives me "Jesus goggles." He shows me what He sees in these men and women, boys and girls. It never fails to take my breath away.

"Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves... Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality... Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." (Romans 12:10, 12, 15)

I firmly believe we would treat people much differently if we always chose to see them as Christ sees them: Worthy. Longed after. Beloved.

May the eyes of our hearts be opened.

Exercise and Extreme Missions

I love reading pretty much the entire content of mission websites. It really opens my eyes and my heart to the nations and their needs. A few days ago, I was reading about a mission to the Peruvian Amazon. At the bottom of the short descriptive paragraph were the two words "Extreme Mission."

Ha! said I. Horrid advertising. Who would agree to go on something called an "extreme mission"?

There was silence for a moment, and then the answer came: Well, Kendall... You said you would.

Hrrrmm.

"Anyone who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for My sake will find it."

When I gave my life to Christ, I declared that nothing was too extreme. Nothing was impossible. I agreed to believe that He would be my Provider, my Defender, my Everything. I promised that I would lay down my life day after day.

And I want to say to Him, "No, God. That's too extreme"? He gave up everything for me, and I would refuse to please Him because I like my own comfort and safety too much?

The words "Extreme Mission" should, in most cases, be superfluous to us. We should be delighted to do something the world considers extreme. We should count the cost, but count it at the foot of the cross, and there find that nothing is too much to ask of us who owe our lives to Jesus Christ.

The little dialogue with the Holy Spirit continued. The Peruvian Amazon can wait. I have something a little more attainable that you can be doing right now.

Thrilled to be let off the hook for a while at least, I was eager to find out what this might be.

Suppose I did call you to Peru. Suppose I called you to go on this "extreme mission" one day -- to travel three days by boat to reach the unreached, to have little more than the clothes on your back, to trust Me for your next meal, to walk for miles on end without stopping. Could you do it?

Apparently reformed by my previous hesitation, I answered triumphantly, "With all my heart!"

Your heart, yes -- but what about your body?

Long, awkward pause. "Now that's just mean."

No. No, I could not do it. Not because God can't take care of me, but because up until now, I have not taken care of what He gave to me. It would not take long for my body to give out on me. And so He began to impress it on my heart: My life is not my own. My heart is not my own. My mind is not my own.

My body is not my own.

And so, Peruvian Amazon in my future or no, I have entered what I like to call "Extreme Mission Training." For me, that consists of, well, working out. Becoming a good steward of what God has given me. "Extreme Mission Training" wouldn't usually be as pathetic as thirty minutes on a treadmill every day...but hey, I'm also learning some things about humility.

"If there be any reserve in my giving to Him who so loved that He gave His dearest for me; if there be a secret 'but' in my prayer, 'anything but that, Lord,' then I know nothing of Calvary love." ~Amy Carmichael

God has asked me for several things in my life that are incredibly dear. After much arguing, He wins them from my grasp, and I promise, "Everything, God. Everything for You."

Except the things I don't think He could possibly use. It's amazing the things I think God couldn't care less about; the things that I think are small enough that I'm entitled to keep them for myself.

Are you willing to go to all lengths for your Savior? Maybe He is calling you to reach the unreached; or maybe He's preparing you for that call by asking for something else that seems much smaller. But for the God who could use five loaves and two fishes to feed thousands, nothing is too small to give Him. There is nothing He cannot use.

And there is nothing He is not infinitely worthy of.

Yet

There is a tiny little word in the Bible that I think is my favorite. It occurs most notably in the Psalms, as David cries out to his Lord, or in Job. They pour out their troubles, baring their broken hearts, and then almost always follow with a single word: Yet.

"Yet You are enthroned as the Holy One..." "Yet will I praise Him..." "Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him..." "Yet in my flesh I will see God..." "Yet You heard my cry for mercy..." "Yet for Your sake we face death all day long..." "Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand."

There are two different ways in which this word appears. One demonstrates man's faithfulness to God ("Though He slay me, yet..."). The other displays God's faithfulness to man ("Yet You are...").

Too often, my "yet" turns into a "but." "I know You want this, God, but..." "I know what You're calling me to do, God, but..." My answer should, instead, be, "My heart desires something else, yet I will obey." "I am afraid, yet I will follow." The conjunctions mean essentially the same thing; yet there's something so defiant about the word "yet." It refuses to give into circumstances. It refuses to complain. It declares, "Nevertheless." It cries, "In spite of all that surrounds me." It defies circumstances.

In my Senior Thesis, I wrote, "Jesus describes a wholehearted love for the Lord. This love is not a partial commitment or a mere pastime; it requires 'all.' An individual who loves God in this way is not coolly affectionate. He is enthralled by his Lord, and this love affects every single part of his life." Jesus does not always ask for the things that are easy to give. He asks for the things that require more than being "coolly affectionate." He probably wouldn't ask me for my baking skills, seeing that I bake about once a year and am really quite bad at it.

But He will ask for the things -- the people -- that I care most deeply about. He will ask me to surrender things that have changed me, things that have the strongest hold on my heart, things that have shaped who I am. And once He has them, I have a choice. I can sit in rebellion. I can be angry at Him for asking for those things.

Or I can say, "Yet..." Despite all that He has taken, He will give even more: More of Himself. More of the only thing I will ever need.

And when I feel like my world is spinning out of control... When I feel like my heart cannot take any more... When my greatest cry is for my heart to simply be kept alive... Yet He is always with me. Yet He is enthroned in heaven. Yet He is God, and more than worthy of the best of my heart.