The Same: Yesterday, Today, Forever

Google recently changed their blogging format. Not a tremendous change, but change, nonetheless. A few weeks ago, I logged on. There was the message: "Try the new blah, blah, blah." I've been around long enough to know what that means -- "Sayonara familiar; seeya later comfortable. Things are about to change!" And chances are, you're not gonna like it. But they never do tell you that up front, do they? There is a reason we don't like change. Sameness is the way we've always done it. Sameness is "normal." Sameness is easy. Sameness is like a pair of worn out cutoffs or running shoes with more than a few hundred miles on them. Sameness is the camping trip you've taken with friends every year for the last decade. Sameness means you wake up and, even if everyday so far has been pretty awful, today is going to be just like them. Crazy, right? But people generally do not like bad surprises, and, if the week's been a train wreck so far, who wants to chance it getting any worse? If it's gonna go down in flames, at least you know what you're dealing with. Besides, you set your expectations low, and if something surprisingly wonderful happens, YEEHAW!

Our ladies' Bible study has just started digging into the Book of Acts. It begins with Jesus preparing His apostles for His departure. Change. These disciples had traveled with Him, shared meals with Him, and seen some amazing things, as all the while Jesus prepared them for His death and resurrection. Change even Peter openly rejected. But, they'd gotten through it. Everything Jesus had told them was true. From the garden to the grave to His glorious reappearing -- life was as it should be again. Until...

In Acts 1, Jesus tells them to wait. Wait. For change. Are there two more difficult concepts in all of humanity? Jesus talks about being awash with, immersed in the Holy Spirit. He says they will receive power. They will be witnesses "to the ends of the earth." And, He's gone. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait! You mean You're not sticking around until the Spirit gets here?!

Our 17 YO has made some questionable decisions of late because, well, that's what 17 YOs do. Momma Bird has had to step back and let her handle it. The littles just received the responsibility speech earlier today when I warned them the next time they leave toys someplace we will not be returning to retrieve them. Various stages of nest cleaning. And it is hard! But strength and focus doesn't grow in the downy warmth of the nest. Momma's gotta give 'em a nudge now and again to make those wings strong. They don't like it, and neither do I. Change.

And it's time for the disciples to leave the nest. Verses 10 and 11, tell us "as He (Jesus) went up," the disciples were looking toward heaven, and two men (probably angels) asked, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing up into heaven?" On previous readings, I've imagined the apostles, open-mouthed, feet planted, perplexed for minutes after Jesus had disappeared from view. That doesn't seem to be correct. Luke, the author of Acts, says, "as He went up." Could it be Jesus was still visible when the disciples were told to get moving? We're burnin' daylight here, fellas! Weren't you told to do something? No time for sameness here.

But, God is so good! These angels reassure the disciples that Jesus is coming again. In fact, their words are, "This same Jesus." I love that! This same Jesus who created stars and the coatimundi and waterfalls, has heard your prayers and is creating a new heart in your husband today. This same Jesus who healed and forgave and cast out demons, is working on behalf of your ailing mother right now. This same Jesus who today sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding for those who serve Him, sees and hears as you intercede for your daughter. This same Jesus who was with you when you were sick with a cold  is with you in cancer. This same Jesus who heard your cry for help when your bank account was less than zero is making a way for you to help others right now. This same Jesus who proved He holds power over sin and death holds that same power today. This same Jesus is alive and waiting for His Father to say the word, and He will return. This same Jesus, who never changes.

"This same Jesus," was, I'm certain, hope for these early apostles. "This same Jesus," is hope for us today.

What Are You Afraid Of?

Welcome to July! It's been a while, I know. The month of June has come and gone, and I have not published a word. That doesn't mean I haven't been writing, however. I write almost daily. Pages. But I have been struggling to post here. The posts I have begun recently, devolve into opinion, or twist and turn themselves into something that doesn't even make sense to me. Thoughts that developed so fluidly, so completely in my study, seem to fragment the minute I attempt to make them relevant to you, the reader. Revelations that burst into mind like fireworks in a night sky, fizzle to cold ash when I imagine a stranger logging in, clicking a link, and thinking, "So what?" It began to seem as if I was having some sort of technical error: transferring ideas into words and punctuation, taking truths that I knew were relevant and magnificent and doing them justice literally.

So, this week I began a study on fear. Now, I know that doesn't seem to make sense if I was experiencing a technical error, but we tell ourselves all kinds of untruths. That we can change him because he has a good heart. That it isn't really stealing if we need it badly enough or we overpaid on that other item a few weeks ago. But, something was telling me I was in denial. Was this about fear? I have known fear; I know how it can manifest itself -- anxiety, altering who I am to please others, attempting nothing, reacting to everything. But what I wouldn't admit, was fear can be something as simple as an answer to the question, "What am I afraid of?" That might be a bit obvious to you, but to someone who spent years of daily existence (and certainly not living) in the unrelenting bondage of fear, to the point that fear itself became my "safe place," being afraid was something that happened on a roller coaster: a momentary belly flip that stopped the second the coaster leveled off; a concern, a hiccough, certainly not the same governing beast of fear. The answer to my question came immediately, and I was afraid.

"I am afraid I won't be relevant. I am afraid I won't be big enough," I wrote. I was afraid of today's post sounding exactly like last week's post, exactly like last June's post. I was afraid of posting some hum-drum housewife theology that any Karen living in a vanilla world and raising honor roll children would or could post. I was tired of waiting for "the big story on Action News" to burst into my life and make my story one that would reach thousands for Christ, and afraid that story would never come. I was afraid of checking the stats on my blog and finding only four people had read a post I thought everyone should read, a post I believe had truly been inspired by the Holy Spirit, a post riddled with truths that excited me so much I could not wait to put them to print. And I'm not as certain all of that was as much about fear as it was self-ish-ness, but there it was in black and white. 

As I read it over and over, a very hard truth emerged: Broken to Breathless had become my blog. Somewhere in my heart, though I prayed as I studied, though I prayed as I wrote, I had assumed ownership over the whole. I had been writing B2B for over ten years, and though I loved it, I wanted something in return. I had a plan. I had a goal. God was not moving at the pace I desired. God was obviously not conforming to my plan. God was not living up to my expectations. God had not delivered the increase I had demanded. And I had ditched the One this was all supposed to point toward; I had placed the success of the message squarely on my shoulders and set out alone. I should have been afraid. 

Now it was time to pray. To ask forgiveness for stealing from my King. To ask forgiveness for demanding anything of Him. To ask forgiveness for seeking my own glory and my own way. To ask forgiveness for making any of this about me. To ask forgiveness for seeking anything in return, anything but God Himself. To ask forgiveness for being anything other than an obedient, surrendered servant of His will. And to give it all back. The gift, the words, the timeline, the purpose, the goal, the audience -- all of it -- back to the One and Only who so rightfully deserves it, to the One from whom it came, to the One who will use it for His glory.

So, this is me. Unafraid of vanilla or sameness. This is me, obeying and posting nothing more or nothing less than what God directs me to post. This is me, expecting fruit -- however long it takes, whether I see it or I don't -- because God has promised His word does not return empty, and not because I have "nailed it," or because I have reached some chronological milestone. This is me drawing close to the One in whom I trust that I might obey regardless of all else, and find joy in that obedience. This is me, trusting that, the absence of fruit as humanity defines it, is not the absence of fruit as God created it. Soli Deo gloria.

Know Your Enemy

Some may read this post and wonder if I've erred in judgment. "Stick to 'Christian' articles," they might warn. Some may wonder why I'm taking on a social or political issue (though I'm not entirely sure how any of this became political). But, I am a Christian, and as a living, breathing Christian in America, my relationship with Christ is a part of anything I do: live, breathe, or "be" an American. My words and my life should reflect Christ, regardless whether I am cooking dinner or praying, having a discussion with my coworkers or writing an article. So, here goes...

In 2014, I had "routine" surgery for Graves' Disease. It turned out to be not-so routine. I was re-intubated shortly after my surgery when I suffered an unexplained, unexpected laryngospasm. I spent the next twelve hours afraid and in a type of misery I would never wish on anyone. By God's grace, the ordeal left me with vocal paralysis, but able to breathe and able to speak. That being said, Pennsylvania's current recommendation of wearing face coverings to stop the spread of COVID-19, is a bit unnerving for me. To say it brings back some terrible feelings is an understatement; to say it makes it difficult for me to breathe, even more so. Add to this, seasonal allergies and a deviated septum, and masks of any kind are not my friends.

My husband and I operate a small business. By God's grace, we have been allowed to operate during this pandemic. I work as an essential employee in the transportation industry. We have not gone without a meal. In fact, we have been able to provide financial help to some of our children during a time in which they have been unemployed. We are blessed.

Even putting all of that aside, I am not at all in favor of the way this "quarantine" has been handled. Quarantine is, by definition, a period of isolation for those who have been exposed to infectious or contagious disease. If, in this country, a police officer kneeling on a man's neck for nine minutes (an act resulting in that man's death) is considered innocent until proven guilty, why am I and millions of others considered infected until proven otherwise? And if I have observed quarantine for the recommended days (14) and then some, why am I still being forced to wear a mask and stay at home? Why has abortion been judged to be essential, but mammograms and knee surgeries are still being postponed? Why is Home Depot's garden center essential and my child's education is not? Why can I go to a job which receives non-essential merchandise from all over the country, sending it far and wide, but neighborhood dress shops, dinettes, bakeries and hardware stores are forced to shutter their doors, leaving friends and family without a paycheck -- for months? I can't imagine what shape we'd be in if one of us hadn't worked for months. Some of those Mom and Pops employ, quite literally, Mom and Pop!

When was the last time a stranger walked up to you, deliberately hacked in your face and darted off? But it seems as though we are supposed to see this as an everyday occurrence, and the breath -- the very existence of others -- as the enemy. Sounds to me like we are dangerously close to being divided and conquered. I care for two children under the age of eight, and Mom, who will soon turn ninety. I wash my hands frequently and require others in our home to do likewise. I remove my work clothes at the door. I have adopted new practices, maintained those I observed during cold and flu season, and no longer do some of the things I would have done prior to this outbreak. I am using what I believe to be common sense to ward off an enemy -- illness. My neighbor is not my enemy. I have a problem with the media that tends to cultivate that type of mentality and the authorities who allow them (if not exploit them) to do it. And yet...

Christians -- and others, but Christians?! -- fighting it out on social media. Dropping F-bombs and hoping others "will suffer for being so damned ignorant." Turning peaceful protests into gun-toting "I dare you" events. Name calling and accusations. Are you kidding me?! We all have different opinions. We all have different and vested interests in what happens in our communities and in our nation. We can all learn from each other, provided we are willing to listen. We can all encourage and educate others, provided we are willing to learn. What are we doing to ourselves, people? Please, I am begging everyone:

Know your enemy. It is NOT your neighbor.

God Can Live With Your Sin

I stopped myself -- or, rather, the Holy Spirit stopped me. The other day, I found myself preparing to say the words that had been spoken to me so many times in my childhood: "God can't live in the presence of sin." I don't remember the situation, but I do recall I was encouraging one of the littles to do what is right. But, I stopped. And I prayed for the true words to come out of my mouth. (More on what God is doing to correct my knee-jerk reactions another day.) The truth that I spoke was that sin keeps us from having all God wants to give us and doing all God wants us to do for Him and for others. I left it right there for those at the kiddie table, but spent the next few moments thanking God for this journey. I realize that as I teach those in my care, I am learning as well. As I speak words that the Holy Spirit places on my heart, I am changed. My way of thinking and how I implement those thoughts is of greater importance to me because the reward is greater: children raised in the knowledge of God's immense grace and love, as demonstrated toward them. That is a reward I want to be a part of!

But the flipside of all of this is the parent I was years ago. I myself was a legalist, and I raised my children accordingly. I was trying not to be a legalistic parent, but that's also the reason I became a one -- I was trying not to be. I could not pass on the lessons of Jesus' grace and mercy because I, myself, wasn't living in them. I had put the cart before the horse, so to speak -- the gifts before the Giver -- and was encouraging my children to do the same. They obeyed. They judged others and promoted themselves. They tried very hard to please me because I could not tolerate misbehavior. I lost my relationship with them, and they lost out on daily encounters with Christ in me. 1 Corinthians 13, often identified as "The Love Chapter," describes the emptiness of putting rules and rituals before love. It also describes the dedication, hard work and spiritual maturity love requires. The closer we draw to Jesus, the better we are able to love others. My children grew up unsure of my love but well acquainted with my law. (Praise God, He is a God of MANY chances!)

The idea, "God can't live in the presence of sin" -- where did that come from anyway? -- is hogwash. Jesus came to earth as a man, but He remained fully God. He encountered Satan face to face in the wilderness. He forgave the sins of a lame man on the spot, and even healed him after those present openly expressed the evil that was in their hearts. He revealed Himself as the Messiah to a woman who had had five husbands, and came alongside another caught in adultery, lovingly defending her (not the behavior, but the woman). God has always existed -- even in the presence of sin (maybe, especially in the presence of sin). When I was as far away from Him as I thought I could get, He spared my life, sent people to speak a word to me, provided for me financially, and countless other acts of blessing -- many of which, I'm sure, I am unaware. He saw everything I did and loved me, sought me out anyway. For God, sin was not a deal breaker, but a master from which I needed to be rescued. He didn't turn His back on me, but drew me to Him. As a disciple of Christ, I am to seek out others for Him. If I am doing it right, I'll probably see a little sin along the way.

These last few weeks of quarantine have got us all feeling a bit trapped. The children spent most of yesterday playing in mud. We hosed off their duds at the door and straightaway carried them to the tub. I knelt next to each one, scrubbing mud from hair and ears, faces and fingernails. To imagine I could clean them up without encountering dirt, or I could stand on the other side of the door shouting out directives as to how they could get clean all on their own, would be foolish.

As foolish and impossible as being clean enough for a God who can't look on sin.