Jesus – Page 20 – Our God is a consuming fire

Belonging

Posted on February 15, 2016February 15, 2016 by Sara

I went to the local park the other day with my kids. We had some bread with us, so we decided to feed the ducks nearby. That’s when I saw this.

goose

I’ve seen a lot of Canadian Geese in my life … but I’ve never seen one alone. I’ve read all the stories of how geese travel in a group, how they take care of each other, look out for each other on their annual migration. So seeing this guy mixed in with a motley assortment of ducks struck me as odd.

But look closer. His wing is dragging. goose wing Has this guy been injured? Suddenly, it makes a bit more sense. He obviously couldn’t continue his flight with the rest of his flock, and had to be left behind. Moments like these prompt me to think strange thoughts – like, “what is it like to live as a Canadian goose among Arkansas ducks?” Does he feel out of place? He certainly looks out of place to me… And how does he feel about being left behind?

It kind of made me think of myself a bit. Almost everywhere I’ve been, I have felt out of place. My light skin and blonde hair certainly made me look out of place among my Liberian friends where I grew up. On the outside, I fit in much better among my friends in Los Angeles, later during my high school years – but my heart still beat African. I definitely didn’t “belong” there. In fact, the first time I ever felt that sense of “belonging” was among an array of nationalities, languages, and cultures in the center of Amsterdam … a bunch of misfits that found belonging among each other.

And how many of us have felt that horrible “left behind” feeling? There goes the rest of the world – they have their life together and are moving along just like they “should”… and here I sit with a broken wing. The loneliness can smother at times like this.

But this goose wasn’t alone. And though his new “family” was a strange assortment of creatures that didn’t look like they belonged together, I found it a beautiful picture of the church. Not the building – the church as Jesus referred to it. What could have been more out of place and clumsy to the outside observer than the motley crew of disciples Jesus gathered? And to the loudest, most impulsive, He said, “You are the rock on which I will build my church” (Mt. 16)

And here we are, 2,000 years later, still clumsy and out of place, but being together. Jesus gave us each other for these broken wing times, when all your expectations and dreams and longings seem to fly on without you, and you’re stuck with a bunch of strange ducks. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Mt. 11).

Is Jesus trying to tell us to release the yoke of expectations, our self-inflated notion of who we should be, our habit of comparing ourselves and our lives with everyone around us? We all have our yokes – things we have done, things done to us, shame we hide in the dark places, things we wish we could erase. What if we really lived this – and set it down? His yoke may involve a cross, but His promise of true freedom can’t be shaken. Galatians 5:1 “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.” John 8:36 “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. Galatians 5:13 “For you were called to freedom, brothers. Proverbs 1:33 “But whoever listens to me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster.” John 8:32 “And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

If this is what it means to have a broken wing, let it be. And let me be free!

But I don’t think I’m unique in this. My story may sound different – not everyone grew up in another country – but I’m guessing your desire to “belong” is as strong as mine. And I’m also guessing that you haven’t always felt like you fit in.

I realize that there is nothing new in this. And we’re in pretty good company. Hebrews 11 talks about great heroes of the faith – Noah, Abraham, Enoch, Sarah, and many others … and then it says this: “they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” Paul says it this way: “Therefore, I urge you as foreigners and exiles (aliens

Walking it out

African waters

Posted on February 7, 2016February 7, 2016 by Sara

I am thinking about water tonight.

Specifically, I’m thinking about water in Africa.

Because today, while sitting around a table with precious friends, we talked about what it looks like to be close to Jesus. And it seems like such a simple question, but we found ourselves groping for words to describe – even understand – what that really means.

So I’m thinking about water tonight. Deep, clear, clean, cleansing water. And I’m remembering…

I guess when you have to work for your most basic necessity – water – you remember it a little more. In this case, I remember great rivers, deep rivers, flowing with mighty streams of life giving water. For some of the year. But when the dry season would come, and the rains would stop, that roaring river would slow to a trickle, and the life supply would dry up.

dry riverbed

When you need life, and the rains have stopped, and your river dries up – where do you go? How do you quench that soul sucking thirst?

Deeper in the jungle – down a dusty trail stairstepped with gnarled roots of jungle trees – lay a quiet spring. It didn’t rush, it didn’t roar. In fact, it never seemed be more than a couple of feet deep. The water was clean and pure, flowing up from within the earth, fed by unseen underground sources. Every person in my village would get their water from that one spring. It never mattered how many filled their bucket, the spring never ceased to provide life.

Water up Water kid

But the true miracle waited for those dry, dusty months when the rains stopped. Though the surrounding rivers would dry up, that spring remained the same – never changing, never leaving us thirsty. It was always enough.

spring

Doesn’t that sound just like our Jesus? “… whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:14

I don’t know about you, but I usually prefer the big, loud rivers. They seem more exciting. They seem more safe – you can SEE that the water is deep and oh how I like to be able to SEE. It feeds that illusion of control, that sense that you know what’s coming, what’s left, and when you need to move on. But then it dries up, and I’m left with that same dry, cracked, thirsty, soul hunting for another source of life. -“For my people… have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.” – Jeremiah 2:13

But Jesus promises us a spring of water WELLING UP to eternal life. Clean, pure, life-giving water. And we usually can’t see the source, but that doesn’t stop us from “tasting and seeing” that the LORD is good! Oh may I drink deep today of His water, and may I camp here and not be lured away by the promises of deeper waters.

And then the transformation! “Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:38 We get to participate in the miracle! He feeds us, He nourishes us, He soothes our thirsty souls, and then we get to refresh others with the same water He’s given us!

This, my friends, is what it means to me to be close to Jesus. I still can’t comprehend it, but here is where my soul finds rest.

never thirst

Walking it out

this is my story – this is my song

Posted on January 17, 2016January 19, 2016 by Sara

There are some moments in life that pass by quickly and get covered by the dust of passing time, only to be re-discovered years later as a pivotal moment in your life.

Not too long ago, I found myself driving through my old college campus, and as I rounded the backside of the parking lot, I suddenly felt like I had stepped back in time about 20 years… feet in darkness

I was walking back to my Mission Ave apartments after an evening class with Dr. Dorsett. I don’t remember what class was about that night, only that I was talking with God as I walked. And then I heard something stirring in my heart. It sounded like the voice of my God, and it asked me this: “ Will you speak for me? Will you go where I ask and say what I want you to say?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

I heard the same question again. And my heart leapt at the possibilities – of where God may take me and what I might live for Him … and yet my lips uttered a quiet, resigned “I can’t”. My heart desperately wanted to, and yet my head was clamoring with all the insecurities, questions, self-doubts … all the reasons why I would mess everything up. “I want to,” I found myself muttering under my breath, “but don’t you see I just can’t?”

And quietly life went on. I found myself wandering a bit. From Minnesota, down to a handsome young man on a reservation in Arizona, and then away… far away to Amsterdam.

beautiful Amsterdam , canals in downtown There my heart was stripped bare. Like Aslan with Eustace, the strong claws of my God cut deep through my dragon skin and I was given new skin, a new life.¹ And Jesus quietly whispered to my heart, “here, in this rawness, in the pain of finding your way, I will walk with you”

I wandered some more. Back to the US, back to Minnesota, and on until I finally found my home with that handsome young man in Arizona. I found my home among a beautiful brown skinned people, so similar in heart and culture to the dark-skinned people I had grown up with in Africa. I love them as my own family – I got married among them and had my first two children among them.

Hopi Sunset

In the midst of such wonder and joy, I found myself in the middle of a wilderness I had never imagined for myself. A vast, dark, consuming cloud of fear descended on my life. A barrage of worry, a fear of loss, of death, of life – this world that I had always been enamored with now just seemed to hold threats, and I thought at times I was losing my way. And in the swirling madness, my sweet Jesus, gave me His Word, showed me the way out by the power of His promises, and whispered to my heart, “here, in this darkness, I will walk with you”

Then came those words a mother dreads. In the dark of the ultrasound room, the doctor told us that there was an “anomaly” with our baby boy (a boy! We were going to have a boy!) Next came the barrage of tests to determine exactly what the “anomaly” was – the doctors called my baby a “fetus” and offered to run tests to see if we should end the pregnancy – the horror of such words still make me shudder. Months of tests and monitoring and not knowing, until that beautiful day my baby boy exploded into our world and it has never been the same since. We experienced the truth that there are no “anomalies”, only perfect creations of God, knit together as He sees fit. We saw miracles, unexplained healings and parts held together by invisible hands – and yet God saw fit to use the hands of doctors to do more healing. Surgery on my 3 day old, 10 days in NICU, a baby having to go home with oxygen tubes in his nose – swirling confusion, loneliness – nothing makes a mother feel smaller than knowing she can do nothing for her baby but pray. caleb

But pray! There is nothing a mother can do that is more powerful than that – pray! And in those exhausting, breathless days, my Jesus came close and whispered to my heart, “here, in this place, I will walk with you”

Life has moved on, as it always does. Years have passed, that fragile little baby boy with a weak heart is now a strong big boy with an irrepressible belly laugh that takes over a room. We have different scenery out our front door than we did back then. Our days are filled with all the joy and stress, laughter, tears, and busy-ness of full time marriage-ing, all-consuming parenting, and constant ministry. But some things will never change. He continues to whisper to me, “here, in this place, I will walk with you”

And so when I found myself in that parking lot last year, the memory – those words- came flooding back and took my breath away. “Will you speak for me? Will you go where I send you?” And my heart knelt, and I saw Him in a new way. He didn’t give up on me, on my halting and ashamed “I can’t”. He didn’t move on to the next better candidate. He just kept walking with me. And as He walked with me, I discovered that He was never asking if I could … He was simply asking if I would. He, who walked with me in the brazen streets of Amsterdam, through the swirling darkness of fear, in the midst of such confusion and pain in the NICU, in the daily pressures of now, will continue to walk with me through whatever He asks of me. And He will give me the words to speak.

And so today I echo the words of Moses in Exodus 33:15 when He begged God to simply walk with him.– And I rest on the promise of God that followed his bold request: “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Exodus 33) There is no other life for me.