Month: March 2019

Repost-Unforced Rhythms of Grace

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This post was originally featured on the women’s blog for Flatirons Church in Lafayette Colorado.  I was the author of the piece. 
Have you ever attended a party where the music was SO loud you could barely hear the person right next to you talk?  Or perhaps, like me, your house is periodically filled with loud and rambunctious teenagers all yelling louder than the other to be heard. 
Some days I feel like my life is like one of those parties. Life with three kids is loud and chaotic and I love it. Yet, I keep adding other things in an effort to prove my value to God, my family, and my friends. I keep adding stuff until the noise in my life becomes too great. Until the rhythm in our family is racing at such a pace that it becomes unsustainable. I long for less, for a slower pace.
Maybe some days you feel like that too. 
In 1 Kings 19:12 God shows up in a gentle whisper, not an earthquake or a fire. What if, in all the busyness of our lives, we’ve made it so loud that we can’t hear Him over the noise of our lives, even when we sit down right next to him?
For over a year, God has been pruning activities and commitments from my everyday. He has been quieting my life so I might actually hear him. 

Day by day God is inviting me to sit, listen, and, hear how he loves me.  

“Unforced rhythms of grace” – these words continue to pop into this season of my life. Jennie Allen spoke of them when she came to speak at Flatirons and the same phrase has appeared repeatedly in the books I’m reading.
But what does it even mean to live in the “unforced rhythms of grace”?  Because I am a word nerd I decided to define each word to create more manageable pieces. 
Unforced: not produced by effort; natural
Rhythm: a regularly recurring sequence of events, actions or processes
Grace: the free unmerited favor of God.
Living a life of “unforced rhythms of grace” would be to naturally, without effort, regularly live in the unmerited favor of God.
Is this really what Jesus was offering in Matthew 1:28-30?
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 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. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
I desire a deeper relationship with God and the contentment he promises. I also long to hear him and know I’m in his will.

I want to sit, knowing I have God’s favor, not because of what I do, but because I’m His.

 
I let go of many of the activities I did to fill my days, the things I thought made me valuable; attending school board meetings, running staff appreciation for our local school and trying to be a savior when any of my family or friends experienced life challenges. I exchanged them for small everyday tasks like watering flowers, walking my dog and actually folding the laundry as I wash it. I still support those I love who have troubles, but I no longer feel the need to jump in and be a savior. I realized I’m just not qualified. This role change and the everyday tasks have forced me to accept that I am small. 
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Accepting this smallness initially bruised my pride. I want to matter, be needed and feel important. But acknowledging I am small and my value is not determined by the work I do is a bit of relief, eventually. Instead of earning God’s favor, I’m learning to accept His unmerited grace. This means I can stop trying so hard. 
The fine line between being confident in God’s love and accepting that I am small is a difficult line to walk. It requires me to keep my eyes on Jesus in each new moment, rather than on myself. It also allows me to be fully present in the tasks that are before me right now. I’m learning to accept this gift of quiet and smallness and enjoy it. Being small and present has brought more joy in my every day than the hustling for acceptance ever did.  
In her book Simply Tuesday, Emily P. Freeman states “There is a daily-ness to my work, a small-moment perspective that whispers for me to connect with the work in my right-now hands, not because it’s going to become something Big and Important, but because Someone who is Big and Important is here, with me, in me, today.”
This new rhythm in my life is one that is quiet and slow. It may be just for now or it may be forever. I’m not sure. My job, currently, is simply to keep my eyes on Jesus and keep the unnecessary noise out of my life. 

Repost-Blue Skies: Facing Shame and Finding Freedom

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This blog post was originally featured on the women’s blog of Flatirons Church in Lafayette Colorado.  I was the author of the piece. 
Who in their right mind wants to jump out of a perfectly good airplane at 10,000 feet in the air?
That was the question I asked myself as I stood in the open door of a small but fully functional plane, strapped to a very nice gentleman who was willing to take full responsibility for deploying my parachute as I plummeted towards the earth.
As I stood there I had two options; I could either jump or face the shame of disappointing my husband (who was standing right behind me), and the others who were waiting with anticipation for news of our adventure.

Facing shame was not my strength so I jumped.

Taking off our masks and being vulnerable can feel a lot like jumping out of an airplane. You cannot turn back once you take off the mask. You cannot escape back into safety.

Shame and fear of vulnerability shaped my childhood.

I had created a safe place for myself; alone and away from others who might see the shame I carried from childhood abuse. I swore I would go to the grave with my secret for I knew that it could destroy my parents and I could not bear to cause them hurt. I also felt responsible for what had happened to me. I wallowed in shame. I spent nights pleading with God to stop the world so I could step off.  Anything seemed better than sharing what had happened to me. I was safe but lonely.
The first time I told someone my story I felt like I was jumping out of an airplane. As the words “I was molested when I was younger” spilled out, I felt like I was in a free fall. How would my friend react? I looked anywhere but into her eyes. My heart raced and my mouth was dry. The seconds ticked as she looked at me. Then in a rush of relief, my friend was still my friend. She listened to my story and shared a bit of her “me too.”
I was no longer alone. And the vice-grip of shame was loosened.
Jumping out of an airplane terrified me. I had the same feeling of my heart racing and dry mouth. As I tumbled out, the wind raced past my face and my cheeks flapped. It was cold and loud. And then suddenly the kind gentleman pulled the cord and my parachute whooshed into place. I gently floated toward the earth. Everything around me was quiet and peaceful. The view was spectacular.
The same is true of the years since I first truthfully told my story. Each time I have shared my shame I feel a tiny bit freer, a little lighter.  And with other people alongside me the view is spectacular.
Being vulnerable is a lot like jumping out of an airplane. First things first, we need a parachute. That would be Jesus. Jesus is the perfectly packed, never-going-to-fail-us parachute.

         “Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

I realize now that God never once left my side. He was with me in all the years of the abuse and the ugly. He was the God who saw, he wept for me and for my hurt.
Second, if we risk being vulnerable, we may want someone to be our tandem; a friend to jump out of the plane with.
Third, we need to make sure they know what they’re doing. We can only risk vulnerability with someone who has earned the right to hear our story.
My life is far from perfect. In fact, I am a master at avoiding the jump of vulnerability. When I feel hurt I hide. I escape back to the safety behind my mask of nice Christian girl. I don’t want anyone to see the real me for fear of rejection. Yet Jesus is faithful. He continues to invite me into the airplane…asking me to jump.