Category Archives: living God’s truth

Main . . .

I gently reached down and touched her chapped hands. Tenderly they rested on the pew in front of us as we chorused our way through five verses of “We Three Kings.” Her hands have grown over the years, no longer balled into tiny fists; no longer reaching outward to explore a rattler or a peg board. Time has shaped her hands in accordance with the calendar, but I will always recognize them. No matter the weathering that life may bring to them, my daughter’s hands are forever burned into memory. As I stood alongside my Amelia and bravely sang the stanzas, I pondered this heart truth from my friend, Alicia:

This is“main” (Anonymous, pp. 18 – 21). “Main is not behind us. Nor is main way out ahead of us.” (Anonymous, p. 21) Yes! This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Not tomorrow’s soon-to-be; not yesterday’s once-was. No, those moments aren’t here for me to hold. This one is. This is main. And this is enough.

I spent a lot of my earlier years striving for the main of my tomorrows. It would be easy for me to conclude (in these my latter years) that main has already been . . . that at forty-six, I’ve had my main moments. The rest of them, what’s left? Perhaps the crumbs or the last scrape of batter from the cake bowl. That’s what the world would have me to believe, the enemy as well. But God’s belief system takes a grand departure from the ordinary. God has something more to say about my main.

“I tell you, now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Cor. 6:2)

Now. Not yesterday; not tomorrow. Now salvation. Now deliverance. Now preservation. Now safety.

Now . . . Jesus.

There’s no greater main than Jesus. Hold him—touch his weathered hands while chorusing his weathered journey—and all moments become sacredly main.

Less looking back at a past hard to remember. Less staring into a future not easily predicted. Instead, more . . .  beautifully more, gazing into the moment right in front of me. In a pew; at the kitchen sink; sitting in traffic; under the covers; while conversing with a good book, a good friend, even with a blank computer screen. Wherever I am and whatever my hands find to do, these are all main because God is there with me. To delight in him and with him, even in the seemingly mundane, makes all of life a grand and glorious celebration. I’m not there yet, but I’m not far from taking hold of it.

“Glorious now behold Him arise,

King and God and Sacrifice;

Alleluia, Alleluia!

Earth to heaven replies.

O star of wonder, star of night,

Star with royal beauty bright;

Westward leading, still proceeding,

Guide us to thy perfect light.”

His star still leads me, and the earthly in me still cries out to the heavenly in him . . .

“Guide me, precious Jesus, to your perfect light.”

Today is main, no matter the moments in front of us, friends. Receive them sacredly, grasp them tenderly, and protect them fiercely. God’s light shines in them all. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

PS: Today I have the privilege of making available to one of you, the audio version of Anonymous: Jesus’ Hidden Years and Yours by Alicia Chole. Leave a comment today, sharing with me about living your main in the mundane. Where have you found Jesus today? I’ll draw a winner with my next post. Shalom.

time . . .

 

“We’re growing older, realizing we cannot stop the hands of time.”

So said my elder friend in her annual Christmas greeting to my family. I felt the profundity of her proclamation. It’s nothing new; it just hit me harder this go around, struck me in the center of my heart. We’ve all heard it before, maybe even said it a time or two, a comment about our inability to halt the progression of time.

I’m not sure I really want to . . . stop time, but there have been a few occasions when I’ve felt some pain regarding its passage. At the core, I imagine it’s my desire to hold more of it . . . to manage time and to dispense it as I see fit. I find this yearning in others as well. It’s not always obvious, but every now and again, someone lets it slip . . . a word or two of regret that lingers as sadness rather than fond remembrance.

I heard it from my daughter’s lips on Christmas day when she realized that her unwrapping was over. Instead of savoring each gift, she tore into her treasures and could only watch as the rest of us lingered with our piles. She couldn’t stop the clock, and while tucking her in bed that evening, I saw the tears welling in her eyes as hope disappeared into the night with her whisper, “I wish we could do it all over again; I wish tomorrow were Christmas.”

I heard it in myself on Christmas day while listening to the CD my husband made for me of my eldest son’s 1998 cassette rendition of “It’s Carol Time”—song after song of Nick singing a cappella his favorite carols from the hymnal. In 1998, he was nine years old—a boy just discovering his voice via a microphone and a tape player. In 2012, a man now twenty-three, still discovering his voice. And I cried at the passage of time—this brief blip on the radar of my life that came and went by rapidly, almost without notice.

I heard it in my mother’s voice during a phone conversation this afternoon . . . a word or two that led me to believe there’s more to the story than meets the eye. That the passage of time has her, too, wondering about the swiftness of it all. A Christmas come and gone with but a few, brief memories that might easily fade with time.

Three generations of Killian women, all of us thinking on and digging into the depths of what it means to live a life too hastily and to know that no matter our longings, we cannot slow the hands of time. We can only live time as time arrives.

It’s a difficult thing to weigh it all out, especially when emotions run wildly and hearts are easily wounded by realities that cannot be manipulated, only experienced. Perhaps this is why so many of us struggle this time of year. We’re positioned for remembrance, for reflection. We don’t get to manage the calendar. December 25th comes for all of us, whether or not we’re prepared for its arrival. It’s thrust upon us, and we must walk it through.

Yes, we’re fine with remembering the Savior’s birth; his story lived way back then. But what about ours . . . our right now? Christmas also positions us to remember the birth of other things, other seasons in our lives; in doing so, we live the weightiness of the passage of time. It can be a grievous contemplation; accordingly, it shouldn’t be overlooked or underestimated. Instead, it should be given room enough to breathe, thereby allowing our grief a good release, a tilling up of the soil that cradles grief’s roots for the new seeds that God longs to plant therein—a fresh planting of the Lord to supplement the soil of our yesterdays.

If we cannot heartily grieve, then we cannot healthily move forward. We must acknowledge the pain that we feel regarding the passage of time; in doing so, we’re better prepared for the steps that lie ahead. Carrying grief or carrying regret into our tomorrows will limit forward progression. This doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t feel it; it simply means that we should live it as it arrives—recognize it, speak it, and give it the respect its due. This is how we gain better perspective. This is how we live truthfully before God and before his created. This is how we work it out and release some of the heaviness attached to time’s seemingly, increasing cadence.

We are growing older, friend, with each moment we’re allowed. It’s true; we cannot stop the flow of time. We can, however, live our moments authentically, wholly, and wonderfully engaged with the process. I don’t know what this will look like for you in coming days, but for me, it looks like this—a stringing together of a few words and thoughts from time to time that most accurately portray the stirrings of my heart. Perhaps they will stir yours as well, allowing you a moment or two of reflective pause, enabling you to put a few words to your story. If so, then this has been time well spent—sixty minutes of my life that I cannot reclaim, only release forward . . . to you. Do with them what you will; live them as you are able. Live your moments as they come so that you, too, can release them to your history with highest regard and without terrible regret.

And just in case you’re wondering, you mean the world to me. The time that you give to me is a rich grace from God. I love you each one.

Peace for the journey,

 

God’s address. . .

“Craving hearts will never know satisfaction regardless how often or how much God provides.”

So tweeted my friend, Alicia Chole. I sat with her thought for a bit, knowing that her words are never casually written. Instead, she writes and lives from a deep well. After considering her contemplation, I probed her heart further with a tweet of my own:

“And so my question, how to rid oneself of the crave?”

Her response was what I expected . . . another probing truth that has captured my thoughts this rainy Tuesday afternoon. She writes:

“For me personally, one of the first steps is identifying my specific ‘address’ for interior contentment.”

Go ahead; sit with it all for a few minutes. Think about craving hearts and specific addresses. Think about satisfaction and interior contentment. Think about what it is you are craving and what specific ‘address’ is attached to that craving. And then, if you’re willing, ask yourself a question or two.

Does Jesus live in this place? Is this the home of his choosing?

If not, then, perhaps, a move is in store for you. Get to where to Jesus lives and watch your satisfaction grow—an inner soul-contentment no longer fueled by worldly provision but instead fueled by heaven’s dispensation.

Where are you parking your heart this day? It seems as if mine has been drifting as of late. I suppose I have a bit of Jonah inside of me, thoughts of Tarshish instead of Nineveh; thoughts of steering my own ship instead of taking a seat in God’s. A search . . . a craving that never knows a full measure of satisfaction, no matter how much or how often God’s provision rains down over me.

Today is a good day for a reroute. A right time to come home to Jesus, to live where he lives, and to drink from the cup that refreshes us both. I don’t want to finish this day unsatisfied, unfulfilled, and underwhelmed by the faith that I profess to believe. Instead, I want to finish this day firmly convinced and richly contented by the provision of a Father whose love for me knows no limits. Accordingly, I move toward Jesus. I park my heart at the front door of his heart, and I wait for this craving in me to let go . . . to die so that I might hold something better, something purer, something eternal that no longer empties me but, rather, frees me.

I invite you to come along, to join me at God’s address. There’s room enough at his table for us all. There’s grace enough to feed us as well. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

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holiness

I have a few minutes this morning (just a few . . . we’re in the middle of percents and decimals over here; for the record, I didn’t understand them when I was in the 6th grade; at forty-six years old, I can’t say my grasp is much better, but I digress. Forgive me; it happens a lot these days. Homeschooling is a real buzzard at times). So with earplugs in place to drown out the background noises of the DVD instruction taking place in the adjacent kitchen, I sit down in front of my computer to ask you, even as I am asking myself, a question.

What allowances in your life are hampering your pursuit of holiness? What temporal triggers are you tolerating that are messing up God’s eternal mandate to you to “Be holy, because I am holy.” (1 Peter 1:15-16)?

I know this is a weighty question attached to an even weightier requirement. But it belongs to us as God’s children, both the question and the requirement. We cannot forsake them in the name of relevancy or of being compatible with a world that is adamantly opposed to and kicking against the tenets of a surrendered life. The world will always kick against surrender. Why? Because surrendering requires submission to a higher authority thereby relinquishing control to that higher authority. When surrender suits our fancy—when our ears are tickled and our flesh is fed and dressed with temporal delights—we’re quick to bend the knee. When surrender suits God’s fancy—when our hearts are pricked and our flesh is drained of temporal delights in order to make room for his everlasting righteousness—we’re slower to yield.

We’re still so very attached to this world, are we not? Still holding on to the little we have left (our possessions and our flesh) falsely assuming that the more we manage them, the more we control them, the greater our contentment in the end.

What tragedy! What defeat! What exhaustion! We’re killing ourselves in exchange for a few moments of temporary pleasure instead of dying to ourselves in exchange for a lifetime of eternal treasure. When and where and how did our consecrated focus turn into wretched blindness? Was yours a quick plunge into dissipation or a slow fade into darkness? Again, my question to you and to myself . . .

What allowances in your life are hampering your pursuit of holiness?

Let me suggest a practical approach to answering this question; time is of the essence (not just in the 6th grade classroom, but in the classroom called life):

  • Make a list. Find a pencil, a piece of paper, and some quietness. Open up your mind and your heart before the Father and list every allowance in your life that is a hindrance to your pursuit of holiness. Television? The Internet? Music? Habits? Attitudes? Memories? Compulsions? Addictions? If you’re not sure whether or not these allowances are in keeping with God’s mandate for holiness, then ask yourself the following questions:

What am I feeding? My soul or my flesh? Would God linger here . . . in this place of my allowance? How does my soul feel after I’ve pushed away from the table? Full, empty, or soured? Once you’ve made your list, then . . .

  • Make a commitment. Prayerfully consider this list before God and allow him his voice in the matter of your holiness. Take time to read a few scriptures pertaining to holiness and give attention to the Holy Spirit’s prompting within. Here are a few to get you started: 1 Peter 1:13-25, 2 Corinthians 6:14 – 7:1, Romans 6:15-23, Hebrews 12.

What “letting go”, what surrender is he asking of you in order to make more room for the holiness he longs to pour into you? God will not leave you hanging here; if you are earnestly and sincerely approaching the Father regarding the matter of personal holiness, he will clearly and directly approach you regarding his. Listen in, and, then, with his mandate in mind . . .

  • Make a move. Don’t sit on conviction. Move on it. Start crossing off your allowances, one at a time, even if it hurts. If you tarry with your conviction (thinking perhaps that by thinking on it another day will clear the matter up), you’ll lose it. You’ll no longer be convinced that this particular allowance is hindering your holiness. Instead, you’ll coddle it, keep it close to your soul until it moves you so far away from the voice of Jesus, you’ll no longer be able to discern his amongst those competing for your attention.

Make a move. Do it while you have the borrowed strength from the Holy Spirit to do so. When you entertain Jesus in your heart, you have the enabling power of all heaven to move you forward in your consecrated pursuit of holiness.

There you have it; my few minutes. Actually, a few more than a few. There have been some interruptions along the way. No matter. At noon, my heart is still fixed upon what my heart was fixed upon at the beginning of my day . . .

My pursuit of holiness. To make a list, make a commitment, and then, by God’s empowering grace, to make a move in the right and good direction.

To God I go. To God I will cling. To God be the glory; great things he is doing in the lives of his children! Keep to it, friends. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

 PS: I couldn’t have just one winner of the If Birds Could Fly CD, so Lori and Laura, you’re both going to get a copy! Beth just met with Brittany at Pizza Hut; once I have them, I’ll mail them to you. Enjoy.

the kingdom classroom

I don’t know why God trusts me with so much . . . why he would allow me the privilege of sacred participation, this giving and extending of his kingdom to others. So very often, I feel ill-equipped and under- qualified—rough around the edges, frayed ends, frazzled thoughts. This is who I am most days, a tangled mess but for the beautiful grace of Jesus who lovingly and willingly applies himself to my untangling until the knots are free.

God doesn’t walk away mid-process. He’s a finisher. He keeps stretching me, moving me, challenging me, and changing me from the inside out. I offer him my consent, because I know there’s work to be done and because, without the Lord’s prod, there’s no soul gain; just stagnation, just plowing up that same old piece of ground and patch of soil that’s been tread upon again and again by my stubborn inability to fix myself.

Will we ever get to the end of this, Lord, this hard work of grace?

I can no longer pretend that it’s not hard. Grace is free and comes swiftly to our aid, but grace is also a meddler. Grace won’t leave us alone; it requires a response—a holy, sacred “Yes” to previously spoken “Nos”.

Full grace equals full change; full conversion; fully and willingly broken open and spilled out so that God has the opportunity to pour into our earthen vessels his holiness, his revisions, and his version of who we are. We are kingdom carriers and kingdom dispensers. To carry less and to give less is to betray our King.

Oh to wake up to our privilege and to our responsibility therein!

The hard work of grace. The good work of grace. My allegiance is fixed to the cross, and my heart is pledged to the kingdom road. Accordingly, I’ll keep moving forward, tethered to the expectation that what I currently cannot see growing in me has already been seen by God.

Indeed, I don’t know why God trusts me with so much; I only believe this to be true . . . that he does, in fact, trust me with the story of grace. And even when his “much” has seemed too much for me, his grace has always been sufficient to move me beyond my limitations in order to allow me a moment or two of kingdom influence. I don’t need to know the results of those moments; I just need to stay obedient to his call.

May the God who created the kingdom, the Christ who brought the kingdom to earth, and the Holy Spirit who sustains the kingdom in each one of us, strengthen you, straighten you, and empower you to spend your kingdom inheritance on those who’ve yet to take hold of their royal privilege. Amen.

 

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