Appearances

One of the (many) things that Covid did to me was that it changed the way that I breathe. 

You would think that something so natural as breathing couldn't be changed so easily, at least not by something so transient as a virus. You would think that your crocodile brain would just keep plugging away, doing what it does and keeping your body functioning in proper form. But you would be wrong. 

Because of the way that Covid starved my body for air, I started breathing using my accessory muscles - the muscles in my shoulders and at the top of my chest. It's probably not a stretch to say that I have not taken very many full, regular breaths in more than 5 years at this point. 

A few years ago, I did three months of pulmonary rehabilitation, a program designed to teach my body to use oxygen better (so that I did not need supplemental oxygen). Part of that program focused on teaching me to breathe normally again. But to be honest with you, I never really got the hang of it. If I try to take a regular breath, I still feel air-starved, and I have never been able to figure all that out. 

Taking a full, normal breath requires breathing from your diaphragm. Breathing from your diaphragm requires you to have your core (your stomach) relaxed so that it can embrace the air and expand with it. When my rehab director was trying to explain all of this to me, she said: 

"We're not trained for that. We're trained to care about how we look to others, so we spend our lives with our guts sucked in, trying to make our bellies smaller. But if we want to truly breathe, and breathe well, we can't keep our gut sucked in. We can't care about how we look to others." 

Now, I'll be honest. I have spent most of my life not thinking at all about how I look to others when I'm breathing. I have spent most of my life not thinking at all about breathing. In fact, the only times I have thought about breathing or how it might look to others when I'm breathing is when I haven't been breathing very well. 

And yet, I must also confess that there's something in me that does tend to suck in my gut. That does tend to try to hold my core tight. That makes it hard for me to relax. 

And because I can't relax, I can't possibly breathe. 

It makes me wonder why we do the things we do, how we get the ideas that we get, what we buy into without ever pulling our wallets out. I promise you that until I started breathing like an idiot, I didn't think about how I was breathing at all, and yet, I find that I have made the same commitments about how I engage my body that it seems everyone else is making. 

How did I do that? Why did I do that? How does it come to be that I suck in my stomach and hold my core so tight all day long, to the point that it makes my body function less efficiently, but perhaps look a little better-shaped? 

What makes it so hard to undo that? Why can't I just decide not to do that any more? Why do I find myself continuing to do it, even when I don't want to, even when I am actively trying not to? How is it that I mindfully put more focus on breathing intentionally only to find that my body is still locked up tight with an agreement that I never knew that I made? 

What about you? Where are you locked up tight with an agreement you never knew you made, but it's holding you back from getting better? From getting stronger? From living the life you want to live? 

Where are you keeping up appearances - intentional or not - but not actually living as well as you look? 

What would it take to change that?  

God Sees Everything

We are living in a world that's more polarized than maybe ever. It's certainly more polarized than it was when I was growing up. Nearly everyone we see on social media posting about this or that thing that's the thing to be engaged in right now sounds more like a talking head than an actual person - they are simply repeating whatever their commentator of choice has had to say about something. 

No longer are we trained to consider multiple angles, to think about various factors that might be at play, to truly look for truth that might exist beyond what we tend to look at (even while we confess that a lot of what we're looking at may, in fact, be completely false and computer-generated). 

In our current world, everything is black and white. The number of friends I have seen on Facebook recently who have said, "If you don't agree this is clearly ______, then unfriend me now." The problem, of course, is that nothing is ever as clear as it seems when you're only looking from one angle. There's always more to a story than what you see in the headlines or the talking heads or the political persuasions. 

There's always something grey. 

One prominent story lately involved a shooting caught on camera. (Actually, sadly, many prominent stories lately have had this theme.) I said something about withholding judgment until there was more context, and a friend said, "How can you need more context? The shooting is caught on camera. They did pull a gun and they did shoot that person and that person is dead. How is that not murder?" 

In reply, I suggested another situation. Suppose that an abused woman has cameras in her home. She's finally had enough and decides that today is the day, so she grabs a gun and stands in the garage waiting on her abusive husband to get home. When he pulls into the garage and gets out of the car, she shoots him. The camera footage of that shooting shows a woman waiting with a gun and shooting a man in apparent cold blood. 

Are you ready to say that was "obviously" a murder? Of course not. If the evidence comes out that she was an abused woman, which is not caught on the 15 seconds of camera footage they are showing on the news, then you're willing to withhold judgment. Context changes everything. 

There's always more happening than what is caught on camera. There's always something that made that camera start rolling in the first place. What happened before whatever happened on tape is often extremely important and introduces the shades of grey into what we want to be so quick to say is black and white. 

This is one of the things I love about having an omnipotent God, a God who can see everything beyond my little, limited perspective of it. A God who has enough context to not see the world in black and white, but in full, living color, and to act accordingly. (And thankfully, in choosing love.) 

When Jesus entered the Temple, we are most prone to remember that He turned over the tables in righteous anger. But before He did that, Mark tells us He "looked at everything" (11:11). He didn't just storm in and explode and start making a scene. 

He walked into the Temple and looked at everything, took it all in. It was a place He was familiar with, but He didn't assume He just knew what was going on there. He immersed Himself in the fullness of the experience. 

He does the same with your life and with mine. He walks in, looks at everything, sees the context, and takes it all in. He immerses Himself in our complicated lives, which often have far more context to them than our little, limited perspectives can understand. God sees everything. 

That's why we can trust His judgment, His wisdom, and His grace. Because He truly sees it all. 

And not just the headlines that we're trying to show Him. 

God of Calm

I have been around healthcare and education for more than a decade, so between patients and students, I've seen a lot of things. Not a lot phases me. (Actually, one of my early chaplain mentors already noticed that about me.) I have always said I'm one of those folks who can walk toward the darkness like it's nothing. 

It's because I understand human experience and human nature and trauma and all of that, at least to the degree that it gives me some confidence in dealing with whatever I encounter. I know there's more that I don't know than that I do know, but what I know is enough to keep me calm. 

I also have to confess, though, that it all still churns my stomach a bit. Once I get through it, that is.

Especially if love is involved.  

So some of my favorite stories in all the Gospels are the ones where Jesus encounters demons - like He does in Mark 9:20-21.

He's just so calm. 

Look at these stories.

The demons are screaming at Him. Kids are being thrown to the ground in seizures, foaming at the mouth. A naked man has broken his chains and is pacing around. Parents are crying and screaming, holding their kids. Everything is absolute pandemonium and total fear - there are demons. 

And Jesus very calmly has a few conversations. He asks what's going on. He asks for more information. I can picture Him standing there, chewing on a piece of hay sticking out of His mouth, quietly, calmly just talking through the situation. 

Then, when it's time, He speaks. He doesn't yell. He doesn't raise His voice. He doesn't make a show of it. He just speaks, says what He needs to say, and casts the demon away without any hesitation at all. 

It's quite the contrast.

But I think it's the same kind of things that help me stay calm in nearly any situation - it's understanding. Jesus knows the human condition. He knows the human experience. He knows what demons are like, and He's seen plenty of them, even before He got here in His flesh. 

He's not intimidated. That's the crux of it all - He's simply not intimidated. 

I think it makes Him sick to His stomach a bit. It has to, to see someone He loves so afflicted. To see what trauma can do. To see and to know the pain that is happening right in front of Him. He wouldn't be human - or loving - if it didn't make Him a little sick. 

And I think love complicates it, too. It's just harder when this life, this enemy, this darkness has a grip on someone you love. 

But still, He's calm. And I think that's remarkable. 

It gives me something to strive for as I come alongside others in their dark moments.

Because we all need someone who isn't shaken standing next to us when we are. 

God's Rules

If you live in the human world, you know there are rules...and then there are the real rules, which may or may not actually be written. 

If you have siblings, you probably know this all too well. 

If you had a label in school - whether that was as gifted and talented or as a troublemaker - you also know it. 

If you watch the news, you definitely know it. 

This world is full of rules, of rights and wrongs, of things that we think ought to be non-negotiable, and yet, we see those rules broken and bent every day. We see folks getting away with the unthinkable. 

It makes it really hard to know who to trust. It makes it really hard to know what to do. It makes it really hard to know what risks to take and which ones to avoid. It can make it really hard to be consistent because when you feel like the world isn't consistent, then you feel like what's expected of you can change from day to day...or from attitude to attitude...or for no reason at all, at least not one you can figure out. 

If your parent, spouse, brother, sister, coworker, boss, company, local law enforcement, doctor, whoever changes the rules however they see fit whenever they see fit, it's hard to know how to live. 

But that's never the case with faith. 

Because God doesn't follow unwritten rules (Mark 7:5). 

This was a point of tension between Jesus and the Pharisees. See, for thousands of years, the people of God had the rules. They had the instructions that God had wanted to give them, and they had passed those down through generations. But also through those generations, the religious elite had spent their energies expanding the rules, clarifying them, making a bunch of sub-rules and expecting others to follow them. 

It's how there ended up being literally hundreds of very detailed guidelines about how to keep the Sabbath. 

So then Jesus comes in, and He simply follows God's rules, not all the little unwritten rules that men had added to it, and the Pharisees get upset. "Why don't your disciples do the 612 things we've prescribed them to do?" 

I can almost see Jesus rolling His eyes. 

This kind of honesty, this kind of straightforwardness, this transparency that we have from God - that He has rules, He's told us the rules, and He follows exactly those rules - is exactly what we need if we are ever to be able to trust Him. He's not like the world that we live in; He's steadfast. The rules are the rules, and they are right there for everyone to see and to know and to live by and to trust. There's nothing unwritten, no place where those rules bend except under the weight of the Cross. That's it. 

And that's one of the things that makes Him a God worth worshiping.

God of No Faith

Do you ever get frustrated by how often the folks around you - or maybe you, yourself - keep making the same bad decisions over and over again? Do you struggle when someone keeps sabotaging their life and you know how easy it would be to fix it? Is it difficult for you to teach someone something a second time or a third time or a fourth time that should have been so obvious by now? 

God feels that way, too. 

By the time Jesus gets on the scene, God has already done a whole lot for His people. He has already created the heavens and the earth, the light and the dark, the day and the night, the land and the sea, plants, animals, and yes, man. (And yes, woman.) 

He has already flooded the earth, but saved a remnant. He has already made His people as numerous as sand on the seashore and stars in the sky. He has already led them out of slavery in Egypt and into the Promised Land, parting two bodies of water along the way and providing food and water where there was none, plus victory over peoples way better equipped than they were. He has already given them a king, then another king, and a whole line of kings.

He has already led them into exile, prospered them in a foreign land (again), led them back out of exile, rebuilt their holy city. He has already made promises and prophecies, every one of which has come true (or is coming true in the person of Jesus). 

And by the time we see Jesus back in Nazareth, He has already been born of a virgin, been exiled and returned home, gathered a small flock of disciples, performed a number of miracles, given sight to the blind, opened the ears of the deaf, made the lame walk, taught with authority in the religious gatherings, and here are the people of His own hometown asking, 

Can anything good come from Nazareth? 

Isn't this Mary and Joseph's illegitimate boy? 

Mark tells us He was amazed by how many, especially right there in His own home town, had no faith (6:6).

In other words, like, what else do they want Him to do for them? How much more is it going to take to convince them? 

The Gospels continue with the people asking for a sign, then another sign, then one more sign until Jesus is finally like listen, there are not enough signs in the world for you if you're not willing to believe. The entire Old Testament is a sign (and a promise). Everything that's happened since His conception has been a sign. Everything He's done since He started His ministry has been a sign. And still, there are persons who don't believe. And God is amazed by that. 

Honestly, I'm amazed by that. 

With all the overwhelming evidence that exists for the existence of, faithfulness of, goodness of, love of God, how can you still not believe? 

Well? How can you? 

Imagining Forward

Recently, I saw a post written by a human being with a public personality that I follow fairly closely, and it reflected on losing a parent with whom that person had a complicated relationship. In the past year or so, a couple of my friends have been in the same boat - losing a parent and...it's complicated.

When I encounter situations like this, the first thing I realize is that everybody's "complicated" is different. There are too many factors to even begin to compare situations. Knowing this, I try to keep my "advice" to a minimum, except to say that you will find a way through that works for you. 

That said, I do have one piece of advice that I think is solid. So I thought maybe now was as good a time as any to share it. 

My dad died 25 years ago and...it was complicated. It was about as messy as a situation like that can be, between history together, trauma, caregiving, family interventions, the overwhelming sense of grief all around, the lost opportunities for the future. To be honest with you, the morning he died, I wasn't really sure what I felt. Or perhaps I should say that I was feeling too many things all at once to be able to pin any of them down. 

The funeral director gave me some precious private time with my dad's body, time that was not afforded to me in any other way, and he told me quietly that if I wanted to write a note to send with my dad, we could tuck it into his jeans pocket and nobody would ever have to know. 

As a 15-year-old with a knack for writing, that sounded great. 

When I sat down to write, a lot of things came pouring out of me that I wasn't really prepared for. I really wanted to give it to him. I wanted to tell him all of the things that I hated, all the brokenness I was going to take forward with me, how much he was responsible for the struggles that I was having (I had no idea how much he would be responsible for the struggles that were coming shortly thereafter). How there was a part of me that was glad he was gone because it set my future free in ways that it simply couldn't have been if he'd continued to live. 

And that's what stopped me. 

My future. 

I wondered, as I wrote that letter, as I spewed word vomit all over the page, what my future would really be like now. And most importantly, I started to wonder if I was actually going to be angry forever. If I was going to be broken forever. If I was going to be so profoundly affected by our years together forever as I felt like I was at this moment. 

And I realized I didn't want that for myself. 

The letter that I ended up writing to stick in my dad's jeans pocket was a letter that I tried to write from the place of healing that I was hoping to get to. After all, I was a little-ish girl and he was my dad and the only dad I was ever going to have. I didn't want to hate him forever. I didn't want to feel weighed down by our relationship forever. I wanted more for us, and, as a person of faith, I found myself already wondering what he would be like healed - without the burden of his own trauma and relationships and experiences and brokenness. I wanted there to be a place in eternity for me to learn that about him. 

So I wrote a letter of love from a place of healing that I wouldn't actually see for another 20 years, but that I was already somehow able to dream about, able to latch onto in my sanctified imagination. I imagined my life forward into what I wanted it to be, and I brought that backward into this place of tremendous grief and overwhelming ambivalence. 

And you know what? That may be one of the best decisions I've ever made. 

So that's my advice to anyone who is losing a parent (or a sibling or a friend or whatever) and...it's complicated. Imagine it forward to the way you want your life to be, to the patterns you're not going to continue, to the things you're going to take from it and the things you're definitely going to leave behind...and bring that imagination back into this moment and let that shape you. 

There's a time and a place for anger and trauma and processing and all the messy stuff, but if you try to make it this time and place, then it will take this one forever. Instead, use forever to shape this one and put all that other stuff aside for later. 

I don't think you'll regret it.  

God Calls

As Jesus travels around and begins His ministry, the crowds start to get word of Him. His name starts to spread. Folks are showing up to hear Him speak, to listen to what He has to say, to see Him. 

At the beginning of His ministry, there were no disciples. This wasn't some kind of group that He formed in secret, pulling men aside to let them in on what He was about to do. No, He called these men from the crowds themselves as He was ministering. These were men who had the opportunity to hear Him first, then were invited to follow. 

The ministry of Jesus would not be fundamentally different without them. If He had continued His ministry by Himself, all the way to the Cross and the grave, it would have looked largely the same. The blind would still see. The lame would still walk. The demons would still be cast out. The broken would be healed. The captive would be set free. The bleeding woman would be clean. The religious elite would still be irrationally angry about all of it and conspiratorial unto death. 

But the story wouldn't be the same. And the impact certainly wouldn't be, either. 

We talk about this a lot, but it's true - God doesn't need you. He doesn't need me. He doesn't need human beings. But He wants us. This is what makes the Lord so fundamentally different from the other gods. He loves us. He loves us so much that He wants to be with us. 

In fact, that's why Mark said Jesus called the disciples in the first place - to draw them near to Him (3:14). And then, of course, to send them out. 

Try to imagine the story of Jesus without these twelve men (and more, and women). Try to imagine the story without the boat, without the fish, without the Upper Room, without the betrayals, without the questions, without the examples. It's hard to do. 

And it might end up being an okay story, even a good story, but it wouldn't be life-changing. Because God being God, completely removed from the lives we actually live, is cool and neat and stuff, but what does it mean for my Thursday? Not a whole lot. 

See, Jesus and the disciples, it's a small, living example of what God had in mind from the very beginning. In the beginning, He created man in His image and then walked with him. The whole point was for us to be together. Not because God needed us, but because He wanted us. 

There's a slight divergent sort of sect of Christian theism called deism, where God is basically a maker of sophisticated clocks who builds a clock, sets it in motion, and then has nothing else to do with it. It simply keeps running on its own because that is how He made it. 

But God is no clockmaker; He is Lord. He is Immanuel, and He's been so long before Jesus came to dwell with us. It is His story; it is our story. We have a God who wants to draw us close. 

And if Jesus hadn't called the disciples, we wouldn't have understood this the same way. If Jesus hadn't called Matthew, Peter, Andrew, James, John, and the others, we would not have understood that He is calling us. If He had not drawn them near, we would struggle to believe He could draw us near. 

Yet, that is all He ever wanted. From the very first moment that we - He and us - took a step in the Garden. Jesus is just the reminder of that with His imperfect band of brothers that He loved so very deeply, cared for so tenderly, taught so patiently, forgave so freely, and restored so wholly. 

He's doing the same for you. 

God is Silent

I am a person who is quick to defend myself. Often, too quick. 

But I think things through, I do my research, I consider every possibility that I can think of, and when I act, it is because I believe that acting is better than not acting. When I speak, it is because I believe that speaking is better than not speaking. So if my words or my actions come into question, as they sometimes do for all of us, I am quick to try to explain how I arrived where I did, convinced that if everyone could just hear me speak my logic, it would make sense. 

So when Jesus stands in front of Pilate and says nothing in His own defense (Matthew 27:11-14), it completely fascinates me. 

Jesus, unlike me, has every reason to know that He's right. That what He's doing is perfectly what He should be doing. That there's no reason for Him to be under scrutiny like this. (By contrast, I often very much deserve my scrutiny...and much more that I do not receive by some magical gift of grace.) Jesus is the One person in all of human history who truly could speak in His own defense with authority and absolute assurance. 

But He doesn't. 

And I think the reason He doesn't speak is because being "right" isn't part of the plan; being righteous is. 

Jesus could have spoken. He spent the Gospels speaking, so we know He was capable. But imagine that Jesus speaks here. What could He have said?

He would have had to try to reveal Himself in words, not in love, and we would have lost something essential of Him. He would have had to be honest about the ulterior motives of the Pharisees and religious leaders who brought Him here, which would have been a character assassination difficult for any of us to swallow. He spoke fairly frequently about the way these men behaved, but here, He would have had to reveal their hearts, and that would have been an entirely different tone. It would not have helped us love Him more. 

He would have had to directly challenge the authority of the court - something He was careful not to do. He didn't do this because His people were somewhat expecting a political revolutionary as Messiah, but the Kingdom of God is something far, far different than Rome, and He didn't want to blur those lines. If He speaks against the court, those lines are blurred. 

Jesus could have spoken, but if He had, we would have only ever known Him as "right." 

It's His silence that conveys His righteousness. It led Him to the Cross, where His love was revealed. And that took Him to the tomb, where His surrender was confirmed. And that tomb became empty, where His victory became certain. 

All because He chose to be silent when the Word could have spoken. 

This gives me two powerful things to think about: first, it reminds me to consider my own words and to be mindful of whether I am trying to be right or to be righteous and what is the best way to go about that. 

Second, it makes me wonder what He might be revealing in my life when He is silent...when I'm sitting here desperately wanting Him to speak. What might I see if I simply pay attention? 

God Reveals Himself

It seems we argue about just about everything these days. Even the things you'd think we could all agree on, we find something to dispute over. There's always an angle that someone takes - maybe us - that wasn't apparent at first or maybe it's even completely bizarre, but here we are again, arguing about everything. 

Just the other day at work, for example, someone said it was snowing hard, almost a blizzard. I said, "Really?" My work space isn't readily equipped with windows. I walked over and barely saw anything at all, let alone a blizzard. But that doesn't mean that two minutes before when it first came up that it wasn't blowing and drifting and what have you. 

In the news recently, there has been a very well-known shooting, and someone said, "Do you even have to question if that was murder?" Well, the video shows a shooting, but a shooting is not necessarily a murder, so yes. I need more information. 

Someone can take something so innocuous as, say, acetaminophen (tylenol) and claim it's the best drug in the world and has no downsides to it, while at the same time, someone else says that medication never works for them and someone else lists a bunch of side effects they have attributed to it. 

Not even the simple things are so simple all the time. 

Did you know that not everyone likes puppies? We can't even agree on puppies. 

But the day is coming when there will be one thing we all know for certain, one thing we cannot dispute: 

That is the Lord. 

The day is coming when, like lightning flashes in the sky, the Lord will reveal Himself to everyone, all at once (Matthew 24:27).

That's not to say that we will all agree on what that means. That's not to say that we won't argue about whether that's good or bad for us. That's not to say we won't still have some folks saying it's the greatest day ever and others not so sure. That's not to say that everyone will believe Him or follow Him or love Him or anything at all. 

But everyone will recognize Him. 

Unlike the many false prophets we have had in the interim, no one will come forth and say, "That's not Him." It will be indisputably apparent that it's Him, and that may be the first thing that this world will ever come to agreement on...regardless of what happens next. That's Him alright. The whole world is going to know it. 

Maybe that's why they say that Heaven is on the other side. Because for one split second, for one breathtaking moment, we're all going to agree on something. We're all going to have the same starting point and the same perspective and the same vision right in front of us. For one breath, we will all simply know one truth - one same truth - and maybe that's the start of everything. 

God Feasts

There's a parable of a wedding feast in which God invites a bunch of folks to come and celebrate with Him. They all, apparently, agree - that sounds like fun. But when the day actually arrives, everyone has an excuse not to come. One dude even says he has to go check on this new field he bought. 

Yup, he turned down a feast for some dirt. 

So the character of God in the story tells His servants to go out and find anyone who is willing to come. Wherever you find them. In the streets. In the shelters. Homeless. Who cares? Anyone who wants to feast can come.

And here's what strikes me about this: the feast is already ready (Matthew 22:3).

The tables are set. The food is hot. The waiters have on their best cummerbunds. There's a ladle in the punch bowl. The tablecloths have been ironed. The music is playing. There's already a feast - the host just needs some folks to show up to it. 

It's no fun without them. 

Now, remember - this is a parable about God and His Kingdom. So when we read it, we have to think of the dynamics of the day. Most of us read this parable and think that the invited guests who decide not to show up are the Pharisees, the religious elite, the ones so busy sitting on their high horses that they don't see the droppings they're trailing behind them. 

But it's not that. Or maybe it's not just that. 

This parable is the vision of Judaism vs. Christianity. Since roughly the beginning of time, God has had His people. For thousands of years, He narrowed His people down to the Israelites, the Hebrews...the Jews. For four hundred years, they had been waiting in silence on this Messiah. They had all the stories. They had all the promises. They had all the prophecies. These were the folks holding the "save the date" cards. 

The Messiah is coming. 

Now, here's Jesus, and He's getting a lot of pushback from...the very folks who are holding those cards. The ones who claim they're waiting on Him. The ones who have spent their lives saying yes, when the Messiah is ready, we're ready. When the feast is laid out, we're coming. 

Now, the Messiah is right in front of them, and they all have a reason why this can't be Him. Why this isn't the One. Why the promises are still not fulfilled. And they're hemming and hawing about what to do now. 

Someone just got married - they have a new thing, a new angle to take on life, and they can't waste time on these old commitments. Someone bought a new field - they have invested in the world, and they're going to see where that takes them. Someone has to bury someone - they've lost something, there's a hole in their heart, and they're grieving. They don't have time for a Messiah right now. 

So God opens His Kingdom to those who seem to be outside of it. Go out, get anyone...go get the Gentiles. The riff-raff, the ragtag, the outcast, whoever. Go get the folks who don't think they'd ever be allowed to set foot in a feast like this and tell them not only that they're welcome here, but that it's ready. It's ready now. 

The promises are fulfilled. The prophecies are coming true. The stories come to life. After all these years of all these stories, the time is now. There's already a feast - God just needs some folks to show up for it. 

It's no fun without you. 

So are you in? 

A Policy Not to Help

I saw it on Facebook this week in a community group, a post asking for help. But this wasn't a typical post asking for help. 

It was a post asking for help for someone that the poster wasn't going to help. 

Here's the situation: Someone was posting because they knew of an elderly female in need of someone to cut her hair, but that person would have to make a house call because the elderly female was incapable of going out. "Just a simple cut, nothing crazy." And on the surface, that sounds like a reasonable - and not entirely uncommon - request. 

But the post continued - 

"My sister is actually a hairdresser, but she only does house calls for friends and family, so she can't help." (emphasis mine)

Gut punch.

It would be different if she had said something like, "My sister is a hairdresser, but isn't set up to do house calls." It's understandable if you don't have the business structure for mobility like that; not everyone does. I get it. 

But no, what she said is that her sister has a policy not to help people. She has a policy in place that she only helps certain persons, and this policy allows her to say no to helping anyone else. 

Honestly, my mind was screaming, "Then go make a friend!" I mean, that seems simple enough. If you know a woman who needs a service you can offer her, but you have a policy that says you only help friends, then go make a friend and help someone. 

It's not that hard. 

The truth is, she could have helped this woman and nobody would have had to know about it. She could have done a good deed for one person who happened to cross her path (and I don't believe there are accidents or coincidences like that) and that doesn't mean she would have to open her business up to take house calls. She could make it clear that she was doing one service for one person and that it wasn't a service she was interested in providing as a permanent offering. 

But she has a policy.... 

I don't have a lot of policies. I have some guiding principles, but nothing official, I don't guess. Still, it made me think about the quiet agreements I've made in my own life that have let me say "no" when there was absolutely no reason not to do good in the world except for that quiet agreement I'd already made in my heart. And I wonder how many not-policy policies I have that have kept me from doing good when I've had the opportunity - when my path has crossed somewhere that wasn't an accident or a coincidence. 

I'm still kind of upset about all of this. I mean, seriously - go make a friend. It will take what? One whole hour of your time every couple of months? 

But at the same time, I'm looking in the mirror and counting my hours and wondering how many friends I have failed - or refused - to make...and vowing not to fail the next one. 

God of Mercy

You've probably heard the story of the Good Samaritan - where an injured man was lying on the side of the road after being assaulted and robbed and all the good, religious folk cross the road so that they don't have to be bothered by him while the disgusting Samaritan (a half-breed!) shows him compassion and tends to his healing. 

But have you ever seen how many times this story is actually told in the Gospels?

Hint: If you're looking for the word "Samaritan," you're going to miss it. 

Instead, we're looking at another half-breed. An illegitimate son. A child born out of wedlock. A disgrace. A little boy who grew up making all kinds of wild claims while everyone else looked at him derisively and sneered, "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" 

We're talking about Jesus - who was scandalized even before He claimed to be God. We're talking about a prophet that the religious elite dismissed. We're talking about the Man who ought to have been unknown to us for every single detail in His story except that whole "being the Son of God" thing. 

Watch the Gospels. How many times do you see it?

How many times do you see Jesus walking down the street, and someone is crying out to Him from the side of the road? How many times do you see the crowds pressing in, but it's one desperate voice that catches His attention? Do you see Him stop because the bleeding woman touched Him, just to turn around and offer her human compassion? Do you see Him give ear to the Centurion who desperately needs a miracle? 

Do you hear the crowds telling the blind men to shut up, to quiet down, to stop bothering the Teacher? 

And then, do you see the Teacher restoring their sight? (Matthew 20:29-34)

The Good Samaritan wasn't just a parable Jesus preached; it was a story He lived out over and over again. It is written all over the pages of the Gospels, albeit with different words, but the theme is the same every time. 

There is a human who is wounded, marred, scarred, beaten by this world that we live in. This human is on the side of the road, crying out. Everyone's trying to push them aside, to shut them up, to ignore them. But Jesus - this illegitimate, out-of-wedlock, half-breed Messiah from Nazareth - turns and has compassion on every single one of them. Every time. 

He tends to their wounds, tends to their souls, pays the price for their recovery out of His own pocket - His own flesh and blood, and promises to come back and settle the debts at a future time. Jesus is the Good Samaritan. 

And that Good News is the hope for every single one of us wounded by this world, marred, scarred, and beaten...and crying out for mercy. 

God Speaks

Times have changed. Walk around a grocery store or a restaurant or anywhere in public where a child might be pushing their boundaries, and you're likely to hear a parent, soft-toned and down on eye level with the child, asking, "Can you make good choices for five more minutes until we're done here? Can you do that for me? I need you to make good choices." 

In the age that I grew up in, our parents didn't ask us anything. They told us. They told us to be good. They told us to calm down. They told us what they expected of us, and it wasn't an option. It wasn't an opportunity for collaboration or feedback. It was an order. 

They would even say it as such. There was no, "Can you go clean up your room for me?" It was, "I'm not asking; I'm telling." 

It seems harsh in today's world to a lot of folks, but quite honestly - it's the only way that actually works. I've not yet met an adult who collaborated on their own raising as a child and grew up to be able to navigate well the demands of the adult world. Because there was no one with authority in their house - and that means they don't know how to recognize authority, how to respect authority, or how to assert authority. To them, everything is a give-and-take and a conversation. 

But it's not better that way. 

This world is not better off if there's no authority in it. Take this scene from Matthew: 

Jesus commands the demons to come out and they come out (17:18). They leave the human being they have possessed and tortured for so long alone, and they come out, and they don't return. 

Why? 

Because God doesn't ask; He commands. 

God didn't have a conversation with the demon. He didn't ask the demon to make good choices. He didn't try to collaborate with the demon or try to talk him into choosing a different action. They didn't talk about behavior and choices and the impact of those choices. Can you imagine if they did? Can you imagine if Jesus went to the demon, who was on a full mean streak at the time, and said, "Hey, uhm, I think you need to do something else for awhile. Do you want to pick something else to do so that you can regulate yourself?" 

It doesn't work like that. Demons don't respond that way. They don't have the capacity to reason with you. They must be commanded - and they are commanded either by the prince of demons or by Jesus, but they are always commanded. 

So Jesus commands them. He's not asking; He's telling. This is what's expected of you. Right now. Without delay. 

And, in fact, it was His authority that the people of His time marveled at quite a bit. And, in fact, it's His authority that we desperately need in our world today. 

And, in fact, I think that if we recognized more of God's authority in our world, and praised it, we would be happier for it. In addition, of course, to simply being better humans. 

God Alone

The world has never had a shortage of gods - of beings, ideas, creatures, things, stories, whatever that men have worshiped. That men have believed have had the power to shape our mortal lives in meaningful ways and therefore, require some kind of deference. 

But only the Lord has ever inspired any kind of true devotion. 

The gods of the world, they are transactional gods. Tit-for-tat. You do this, your god does that. Or they are dominant gods, using men as pawns in their cosmic battles. Or they are demanding gods, requiring certain behavior from their followers. 

And the exchange rate isn't great. 

If you please your god, you might get something you want. Or you might get something your god wants to give you. Or you might help your god to victory in the cosmic battle of the gods. You might escape this world. You might be rewarded richly with virgins and ice cream. You might get a nice pat on the back. 

Only the Lord stretches out His arms and welcomes you home. 

Only God promises love. Only God promises redemption. Only God promises restoration. Only God has something in mind that is truly good for you and not just a satisfaction of some fleshly desire. 

Only God inspires you to dream bigger than your life. 

Only God inspires you to dream bigger for your life.

It doesn't take a lot to understand this. Look at the stories of the other so-called gods. Look at what they promise. Look at what it takes to get there. You have to climb mountains and scale tall buildings and be perfect and achieve on your own. 

Only God crossed the heavens and came to earth to be with you, and only God promises that He has a place for you. Not for all the people like you. Not for everyone who earns it. Not for whoever figures it all out. 

But for whosoever will. All who will come. 

Matthew had it right: God, our God, the Lord is unlike any other (14:2). 

And I am so glad He is. 

God of Persons

What kind of God do you want? 

It's an important question. When we go back to some of the gods of the ancient peoples (think: Greece, Egypt, etc.), we have all kinds of myth stories about these gods warring it out in the heavens and on ancient mountains and whatever. The primary function of gods was to fight among each other for dominance and, if they had a little time left over, offer benevolence to mere mortals who were stuck in this physical world. 

For example, if you wanted to have a child or harvest an abundant crop, you had to appease the goddess of fertility, who would probably give you good favor if you got it just right, but her actual life was spent dating the god of good cheeses and arguing with the goddess of donkeys. 

These are the gods that men worshiped. 

And it's tempting to want to do that with our God. We understand the realities of spiritual dimensions in our world, and we have some kind of understanding of Satan - of God's enemy. Of the "ruler of this world." Of the cause of all evil. Of the Deceiver. Whatever you want to say about the very real spiritual battle that we're all caught up in. 

And what we want is a God, a Lord, our Lord who puts the devil in his place and comes out victorious. We want to think about a God who is the God of all Gods, who exerts His dominance in the pantheon of the heavens, who keeps showing that He is the Lord. And if this is the God that we want, then our God has to defeat Satan at every turn. 

That's what we want. 

But that's not what God is interested in. 

We get a glimpse of spiritual warfare nowhere more clearly than in the Gospels, than when Jesus (the Son of God) is walking this earth, declaring the Kingdom, and putting demons in their place. Except that for Jesus, it's not about putting demons in their place at all. 

Jesus is never like, "Hey guys, watch this. I'm more powerful than the demons." Jesus never draws attention to the spiritual battle. Jesus never lets the humans get distracted by the spiritual realm. Yes, there are demons. Yes, they are real. Yes, God is bigger than them. 

But God is a healer of persons, not a dominator of demons (Matthew 12:22). So every time we see Him encountering the forces of darkness, the emphasis is on the human being He is setting free. The emphasis is on the boy who isn't going to have seizures any more. The emphasis is on the naked man fully clothed and in his right mind. The emphasis is on the human being created in the image of God who is set free. 

Demons be damned. 

Jesus came to love us. God came to demonstrate His love for us. Not to show us how big He is on the mountains or in the pantheon or whatever other fantastical stories we want to make up about the place where the gods live. 

Our God lives among us, on the same dusty, dirty streets that we do. And when He looks at us and sees us troubled by a lesser being, He's not looking at that lesser being; He's looking at His beloved. At us. 

Because that's where God shows us who He is. In our real lives...the very lives He came to redeem. 

Arguing About Truth

This world we're living in isn't black and white...but we'd like to make it that way. 

We want there to be a good and a bad, a right and a wrong, a sacred and a profane, a holy and an evil, a friend and an enemy. We want there to be one thing we can all agree on and, in doing so, something we all agree on on the other side of it, too. 

Yet, it seems that no matter what happens in the world, we always find a way to pick a fight about it. We always find a way to uncover some layer of the onion that hasn't made enough folks cry yet, then pick and pick and pick at it until we've missed the forest for the trees and have started arguing about the smallest little things...ignoring the big things that we agree on. 

For example, a local woman was murdered by her abusive husband. And on the surface, we have tremendous agreement about this - he was wrong. He should be held accountable. This is a tragedy. How could something like this happen? 

But it didn't take long for the arguments to start coming out. There are those who think he should be fed through a wood chipper right away; others don't believe in capital punishment; still others want him to receive counseling. There were arguments come out about domestic violence - she should have left sooner; she did everything right; the court system failed her; law enforcement should have done better; it's her own fault for staying as long as she did. 

And all of a sudden, an entire community who agrees on the most fundamental truth about this story is left arguing about all the little nuances of it and forgetting that at our very core, we agree with each other. 

You walk away from a comment section like this shaking your head and wondering how there are so many idiots in the world who "just don't get it." Whatever "it" is for you. 

What is actually happening is that we've lost our ability to live in tension. We've lost our ability to have different perspectives and priorities and truths out there. 

We say that we are the most "tolerant" generation for truth. Hey - what's true for you is true for you and what's true for me is true for me and who am I to judge?

But the real truth of the matter is that this has only convinced all of us that there is only actually one truth - ours - and that anyone who doesn't agree with our truth is wrong. If our truth, our version of truth, our understanding and perspective and interpretation is the only one that matters to our lives, then it is the only one that matters. We have become completely intolerant in our tolerance because as much as we are told that all things are valid, we are also told that our thing is the only thing valid for us and any disagreement with us is disrespect. 

So here we are, arguing about what is most true or best true or perfectly true about a man with a history of domestic abuse who shot and killed the mother of his children when the truth is that no one thinks this is okay. 

It's amazing, right? Here we all are on the same side of history, still disagreeing with each other because it's what we've been taught to do - argue. 

But what if we didn't? 

God Whispers

I've seen enough suspense shows and psychological thrillers to think that I can say with absolute confidence...don't whisper to me in the dark. Ever. 

At the same time, I have whispered enough things to those I love in the dark to know that sometimes, these are the things I most need to hear. (Well, to be sure, I can only say that they are the things I most need to say, but when I say them, it is because I think someone I love needs to hear them.)

Most often, the words that I whisper in the dark are...I love you.

I love you, when the doctor is moments away from coming back in the room. I love you, when the morphine pump cranks up another level. I love you, when the house is in a pile of rubble. I love you, when the eviction notice is on the door. I love you, when the bank account is overdrawn. I love you, when the heartbeat is gone. I love you, when the vet is holding the syringe. I love you...I love you...I love you.

Some of us spend our lives thinking about the darkness, preparing for it. Maybe you have a list of things you think you want to say when the time comes. Maybe you have a whole checklist in your mind of what those dark times are going to look like if - when - they come your way. Maybe you have a contingency plan and a plan for a contingency on that. Maybe you have a carefully crafted letter that you're just waiting on the right moment to read. Maybe you think, against all hopes, that you're ready for the darkness if it finds you. 

But I'm telling you - when those moments find you, when this broken life finds you, when darkness falls, the only words I've ever found that truly mattered, the only ones I've ever wanted to say, the only ones I've ever wanted anyone else to know were I love you. 

Jesus told His followers that what God whispers to us in the dark, we are to shout in the light (Matthew 10:27). 

When we hear those words, we start to think about some kind of amazing prophetic message. Some special nugget of wisdom God is going to give us at just the right time. Some amazing word of grace that's going to change the whole world around us. It's so amazing that we can't even imagine what it is, but we know that when we hear it, we'll know it's the word. 

But I think in the darkness, in our darkest days, in our hardest times, in our most trying tests, the words God has for us are the same ones we have for each other: I love you. I think that's what He whispers. 

It's what He's whispered to me. At the moments that I have most needed to hear from God, those are the words He's chosen. And...they're enough. And...they're perfect. And...they're exactly what we think they're going to be. 

They're an amazing prophetic message, a deep, powerful truth that we need to hear. They are a special nugget of wisdom at just the right time, for what changes our perspective on the world more than knowing we are loved by God? They are amazing words of grace that change everything. These words truly change everything. 

And we should shout them in the light. 

Because as much as we've needed to hear them, so, too, does the world. 

When the darkness comes, God whispers in our ear...I love you.... 

And He does. 

So shout that in the light. I am loved by God. 

It makes all the difference. 

God of Secrets

Jesus told the crowds gathered on the hillside that God sees what is done in secret. Actually, He told them three times...in the same sermon (Matthew 6:4, 6, 18). 

When He said this, He was talking about things like prayer and generosity. Things the Pharisees did in very public places so that everyone would know how holy they are. The point of His statement was that true holiness isn't defined by the things you do where other humans can see you or by how much recognition you get for your prayer or sacrifice or whatever; true holiness is defined by what God sees when He looks at you, and He's not looking at you standing in the streets, shouting. 

(He is, but He's not...you know what I mean.) 

Yet, when many of us think about these verses, about Jesus's words that God sees what you do in secret, what we think of most immediately is our own failures. Our quiet little moments of not getting it right. The little things we mutter under our breath. Our "secret" sins that we wouldn't want anyone else to know about. The times we're afraid that someone might come unexpectedly walking in on us, and then suddenly, we remember that God already sees what we're doing. 

Yikes. 

But that's not what Jesus said. 

Jesus said that God hears your prayers that are said in secret and sees your generosity that is done in quiet. Which means that God's not looking for your mess-ups; He's looking for the little bits of good that you're putting out into the world without anyone noticing it. He's looking for the little acts of faithfulness that you engage in when no one's watching. He's looking for the kind of relationship you have with Him when it's not being judged by anyone else. 

He already knows your sin. That's why He sent Jesus in the first place. That's why His Son was here on earth to say those words on that hillside two thousand years ago. Because God already knew you were a sinner. 

But if you actually look at it, Jesus spends very little of His time talking about your sin and a great big lot of His time talking about God's Kingdom. He spends more time talking about healing and forgiveness than condemnation. He invested His short few years here on earth with us in telling and showing us what real faithfulness looks like...and faithfulness is very different than sinlessness (which, by the way, you're never going to achieve). 

He spent His time talking about what He came to do - being holy. Being faithful. Being righteous. 

Those are the secret things He's looking for. 

Not some sin He already knows about. That's just the serpent and the fig leaves and the bush all over again. 

But we put that narrative to bed a long time ago. The narrative we have now is the manger, the cross, and the tomb. And that's far, far better. 

So go be righteous. Go do quiet little things. Go pray where only God can hear you, give where only God can see, love Him in ways only God knows you're loving Him. For this pleases your Father in Heaven, who treasures every one of these little things done in secret and rewards you for them. 

God's Timing

Wait for it.... 

How do you know when the right time to do something is? Anything. What makes you have one little thing to do and put it off until the weirdest possible hour? 

If you're like me, you've had these moments in your life. Probably too many of them to count, but if you start trying to remember them, they will come. 

Moments when you wanted to take the dog for a walk, but didn't get out the door quite in time and narrowly missed being run over by a car that blew through the intersection. Moments when you had one little errand to run - to the bank or the grocery store or whatever it might be - and put it off until you didn't even feel like doing it any more, then forced yourself to do it...and ran into a friend you haven't seen in years. 

Moments you wouldn't have planned that way in a million years, but they somehow ended up just like that and became tremendous blessings in your life - gifting you things you wouldn't have had otherwise or keeping you from things you couldn't have escaped yourself. 

None of us truly knows how many little miracles God has put into our lives, how many tragedies we've avoided, how many little blessings we've encountered simply through a little thing called timing. None of us knows how many little blessings we've missed or how many tragedies we've brought upon ourselves by forcing time to fit in our hands. 

But God does. 

See, God has a right time. God knows. Matthew assures us of this in 8:29, just as God assures us of it in other areas of the Bible. God knows exactly what season we're in, exactly when the sun sets, when darkness falls, when the light of the moon will reflect off something shiny we would have walked right by in the daylight, when we need that daylight, when the darkness would be blinding, when our paths might cross and where and with whom and for what reason. 

I remember a few years ago in the midst of Christmas shopping. I had one more gift to run out and grab real quick, somewhere close, just across the street. And after putting it off for no good reason at all, I was finally just like....fine, I'll go. And when I got to that store, there was another customer absolutely frantic because an older woman had fallen and hit her head on the floor and was flat-out on her back and no one was coming to help her. 

All of a sudden, I realized I was there to help her. I was there to kneel down by her, take her hand, ask her her name, talk with her. Figure out who I could call for her. Assess her immediate needs. 

I had chastised myself all morning for being "lazy" and for "putting it off," but the truth is that I was right on time, and my guess is that if you laid my life out on a table, there'd be a million little moments like that. Your life, too. 

Because God knows what time it is, and even when we can't explain why we do something now or do it later or put it off until tomorrow, God knows...He knows the gifts we receive and the gifts we become when the timing - our timing - His timing is just right. 

God's Plan

Imagine this: 

You're on a road trip with the love of your life, and they tell you they have something special planned. Just trust them. 

Along the way, they stop here and there - a gas station to pick up a few things, a little mini storage barn their family has had for ages, some little hole-in-the-wall you've never heard of. You travel along with excitement, keeping your eyes open to everything, trying to take in every little detail of what you know is going to be a truly magical trip. 

Now, picture this: 

All the same stuff, but it's you and the Uber driver you just met. Someone you summoned to take you from point A to point B suddenly has a bunch of random stops they have to make in between, stops that you don't think have anything to do with you. All of a sudden, you're paying attention, scrutinizing everything, trying to figure out when to make a run for it and what kind of details you might need to give to the cops later...if you're lucky enough to make it out of this whole thing alive and not become the subject of some true crime documentary. 

What's the difference? 

The difference is relationship. 

When you're traveling with someone you trust, someone you know loves you, someone you think about even when they're not in the room and who you know knows all of these special little things about you, you can tolerate a little mystery. In fact, you come to thrive in it. Because you know that underneath it all is love and goodness and something magical that is going to sweep you off your feet. 

When you're traveling with a stranger, someone you just met, someone who doesn't seem to know you at all and you don't know them, it's harder to trust. They could be taking you to the exact same place for the exact same reason, but it won't mean as much...if it means anything at all...and you'll be white-knuckling the whole way through, holding on for dear life to, well, your life. 

Friends, this is the picture of our travels with God. We always recite the verse from Jeremiah - For I know the plans I have for you...but do we trust those plans?

Matthew says God knows the plan, but He only shares it in His own time (1:18-25). Are we in a position to trust that and enjoy the ride? Or are we white-knuckling through our life and faith? 

As in the example above, it has to do with our relationship. 

If we trust God, know Him, know He loves us, think about Him when He's not even in the room and know that He knows all these special little things about us, it's easy to tolerate a little mystery. It's easy to go along for the ride. It's easy to dream in our sanctified imagination about all the things He might be up to, even if right now, all we see is the parking lot of some storage shed He had to stop by for a second. 

If God is a stranger, though.... 

It seems simple, then, doesn't it? 

Nobody wants to end up the subject of a true crime documentary. Especially when the God of all the universe has something truly wonderful planned for you. 

The Learning Curve

For the past couple of years, I've been doing something special in this space on Fridays. Two years ago, I was writing Communion devotionals. Last year, I used Fridays to introduce you to some folks who have played a role - big or small - in my life and the lessons that I want to hold onto from them. 

As the new year starts to settle in, I have been wondering what I want to do this year. And I think....I want to learn.

I want to use this space on Fridays to tell you something I've learned this week. Whatever it is. Big or small. Serious or silly. Because I think it's too easy to go through our lives without really paying attention, never doing anything different, never recognizing the things that are right in front of us. 

I know it is for me. I know that I will have a lesson right in front of me, think I've got it, then blink, and it's gone. Or I'll discover something that I am certain will change my life only to immediately go back to life as I've known it. 

Because auto-pilot is easy. Because the status quo is easy. Because learning new information is easy, but actually incorporating it into your life is hard. 

So maybe if I take the time to stop and reflect, if I intentionally live with my eyes wide open because I know I have a space to fill every week, maybe I'll actually learn something this year. Maybe I'll be able to put something into practice. 

This is also the gift of my new friend, Silly Goose. As you may know, I lost my best friend - Sister Mary Thunder - a few months ago. Despite my best efforts with her as a pup, she simply had an anxious disposition and always required some special care and handling. I have spent must of the past twelve years mitigating the scary things in the world for her, having to live with my eyes open to the things that she might think of as threats. After she went blind and traffic became an even bigger fear for her (hearing the cars, but not being able to see them), for example, I had to assure her every single day on our walk that I was taking her "the not-scary way" - down an alley before we got to the main road. 

But Goose...Goose doesn't have any of that. Goose is ridiculously curious. Heard a noise? What was that!! Let's go check it out! See something new happening outside? Let's go investigate. Is that a human on the sidewalk? We must be friends! Goose has her eyes wide open to the world, and she's begging me to come along with her. 

And I'm ready. 

Since my first unit of chaplain's education thirteen years ago, I have tried to adopt a lifestyle of curiosity. I have tried, as my group did back then, to make it a core value for me. I have a vinyl print on my wall that says, "Blessed are the curious for they shall have adventures." 

This year, I want to have adventures. 

And if I can stay engaged, stay locked in, stay learning, then I want to share some of those adventures with you on Fridays. 

We'll see how it goes. 

The Year Ahead

As we officially turn the page, the question is as it always is: what kind of year are you hoping the new one will be?

Like everyone, I have a list of victories that I'd like to see this year. Little wins, big wins, that will make my life better (I think). Things I've lost that I'd like to start gaining back. Things I've never had that I'd like to add to my life. Things that have held me back that I'd like to break free from.

When we dream about our new year, these are the things that we dream about. All the good things. None of us dreams about challenges we want to have, setbacks we anticipate, trials or troubles. We dream about the good things. We set ourselves up for success. We make a list of the new kinds of discipline we're going to have, the new habits we're going to start, the old habits we're going to break, everything we're going to do to set ourselves up for success. 

But let's be real - life doesn't work like that. Life is not some constant uphill motion. It's not always moving forward in the ways that we dream that it will. 

That's what ends up being so discouraging to us, I think. We dream big dreams, and then, they don't come about the way that we thought they would, and we start to beat ourselves up for not being stronger, for not being more disciplined, for not being more realistic...whatever it is. We plan our year for success after success, and then when trials and failures come, we get derailed really easily. We throw in the towel. We're ready to quit. 

This wasn't part of the plan.

But what if it was? 

What if this is the year that's not about your victories? What if this is the year that's not about your wins?

Like everyone, I have a list of things I'd like to see happen this year for me. Like everyone, I plan on putting in the time and the effort and the work to the best of my ability to make them happen. Or help them happen. 

But like a child of God, I understand that my resources are finite, just like my understanding, so my little list of victories is not my goal for the new year. 

My goal for the new year is to have a full life. 

To embrace what comes my way. To take advantage of my opportunities. To stay connected to God, whether it's a mountain season or a valley one. In the sunshine and in the darkness and in the rain. To take what life gives me and find His glory in it, whether I can see it right away or not. To take the next faithful step and hold on for the ride. 

To be fully alive and actively present in the life that He's going to give me, whether it's the life that I dream of with all of these blank pages in front of me or not. 

It's the only way, I think, to truly live the next year. (And the one after that and the one after that and the one after that....)

When you determine to live this way, to live a full life, you set yourself up for the biggest win - to get to live your days and learn to love them because every day is a day made by the Lord and a gift He is giving to you, even if it's not your best day. 

It's about taking that next step forward even if that step leads down into a valley. It's about picking your foot up, pulling the nail out of it, and putting it down again anyway. It's about learning to limp along when you have to because the way forward in this life is through. Through whatever it is. Not looking backward, but always taking the time to look around and keep looking ahead and being okay not knowing for sure where you're going, but knowing where you are - right where God has you. 

At the end of this year, I'll probably be saying the same things I've said for the past few days - that this was a full year. That it was a year of being fully human. And faithful. And somehow making it. And knowing the losses, but clinging to the victories. Of being full of hope even if I'm grieving the things that didn't turn out the way I wanted them to. 

I hope that by this time next year, my losses are not the same. I hope they are fewer, to be honest with you. But if they're not, then I hope I have lived them faithfully, finding God's glory in whatever comes my way and doing my best...the same best that I am vowing today to give to all of the blank pages in front of me. 

May this year be the year of our fullest life. Embracing it all. One step at a time. Through mountains and valleys and sunshine and darkness and rain and puddles and a little bit of mud (or a lot of mud, if you happen to be my new puppy). 

Sound good? It does to me.