Easy Love

Sometimes we complicate God's love, while He has made it so easy to accept.

Slurping and sipping our tea, hers thai and mine green, we chatted for awhile. As ordinary as the setting seemed, the moment felt so rich. I was blessed by the simplicity of a conversation with a friend over boba. It was probably the first opportunity that I had had in a while to reflect and evaluate what had been going on in my life.

And then, she had an idea that shook up my sweet moment of comfort and ease.

"I think we should give some girls roses."

Girls? Like who? And where? And how many roses? And what do we say? And, what if...?

I gulped down one boba, as half-chewed as my hesitations. With what little reason was necessary (1. We had time, 2. What girl doesn't like flowers?), we tossed our cups and reservations, gathered our things, and embarked on some of the purest and most purely joyful hours of my life.

It was unforgettable: running around the parking lots and that YMCA and that nail salon, wreaking love on strangers with red roses that we had speedily purchased at a nearby Ralph's. Each had a handwritten note tagged on to the stem reminding the recipient, or perhaps informing her for the first time that she was

"beautiful",

"loved",

"Handmade",

"thought of and sought out by God."

The only thing I can equate the whole experience to, in a feeble, limited attempt, is magic. Something would just take over me, and take over these victims, as I interrupted their mission, thought process, and countenance with an innocent flower. They would be on their merry way to water aerobics, or Vons, or to their midnight shift, or on their way to just hating their day a little more when BAM!... My friend and I would strike them helpless with our effortless act of kindness. And then, in their flurry of both confusion and compulsion in receiving the flower into their hands, we would tell them: "Jesus loves you."

We made wonderful intrusions on women working, strolling, waiting, reading, studying, arriving, leaving, smiling, frowning. Young, old, bored, occupied, stressed, content. And I've never been so blessed to intrude on someone. As we just hit and ran, many would just sit there smile-stunned and soaking in those three words of truth, their eyes following us as they decided if that was a coincidence or not.

Then there was the woman who was making her way to the exit of the YMCA. She looked elderly, but she walked with intention and purpose that made you doubt what you saw. I approached her in all her focus and handed her the rose. She stopped, chuckled, and taking hold of the gift asked me with endearing eyes, "What for?" "Just because Jesus loves you," I replied. I will always remember her giving the gift back to me, retracting her smile and resuming her purpose, ignoring my pleas that she still keep it.

And the woman that was walking into the building complex as we were leaving. She was wearing a clean uniform and the sun was setting behind her, as she marched into a night of working and earning her way. We reached out to her with the rose and she paused in her path to accept it with a few grateful words. As she held it happily against her chest, she asked "How much?"

And the last one who seemed too tired to lift herself from the curb and too careless to choose to. She leaned against the brick wall, curled up in a secret and almost, but unsuccessfully invisible. My friend and I rushed over to her, with one final rose, gave it to her enveloped in a "Jesus loves you" and walked away. After some distance, I noticed something unpleasant in the air. "Is that... pot?" We turned back to see the girl looking up at us from a haze of smoke, at a loss in trying to reconcile herself with the gift and truth that lay in one hand, while holding her joint in another.

Sometimes we complicate God's love.

The next day, driving to work, I set out on another little mission. I had bought an extra burger and was on the lookout for a new victim of a new kind- perhaps I was still coming down from yesterday's dreamy state. I was getting closer and closer to my work and was urgently looking for somebody, anybody on the road who I could have God buy lunch for. My building was already in sight when I rounded the corner to find the familiar fruit and florist stands off the side of the road. I walked right up to the florist stand, equipped with In N' Out and thrill.

She sat there alone under her billowing tent, accompanied only by her gardenias, tulips, carnations, chrysanthemums, lilies...

"Comiste almuerzo?"
"No."
"Pues, yo tengo una hamberguesa para ti. Porque Dios te ama."

She blessed me in receiving the food with the most precious of smiles. It was a gift to me just to give it.

I turned to get back in my car to get to work with what few minutes I had left, when she interrupted my exiting and called for me. That moment will stay with me forever: turning around to her to find a perfect, red rose, its petals pursed towards me in a kiss and a whisper that said, "I love you, too".

We complicate God's love. Some of us try to pay for it. Some of us refuse it. Some reason out why it's just "not for me". And sometimes I forget to keep some for myself. But to reject God's love is to reject something as irrevocable and as irrefutable, as inescapable as gravity. It's to deny something as simple, organic, and real as the stem, leaves and petals resting in your hands.

God loves you. It's inarguable. To deny this truth does not eliminate the reality of it, but is to dramatically determine how you experience it. Will you receive it?

The Waiting Game

In an age where we live off of instant, waiting is unbearable.  Texting, facebook, and microwaves all work together to try to cover all the bases in our lives, lest we have to bear through the torture.

Waiting is hard.

But waiting on myself is really hard. And there are just some things in life that a microwave can't expedite.

Why does this still bother me?

Shouldn't I be over this by now?

Those choices, impulses, that version of yourself- it was all a lifetime ago.  It's a world away, but in one trigger it can all come back.  In a moment, you realize that temptation's at your doorstep, no matter how well-Versed you feel you have been in your new identity.  The anxieties, fears, and frustrations return like a flash flood, and you find that you're not at all where you thought you were. You're not who you wanted to be.

And then you fall into the rut all over again, beating yourself over the head.  Then beating yourself over the head for beating yourself over the head.

I'm supposed to be past this.

But something I have been realizing lately is that this isn't about my productivity or performance. It has to be all about God and what He's doing. And if I claim His promises, His Word for my reality, and if I am not stiff-arming Him with deliberate sin in my life, then why am I disappointed? Why am I getting impatient?

If we believe God for who He says He is and for what He says He does, then there is no room left for disappointment. Well, then if I'm disappointed or impatient, that means I have appropriated my faith in something other than God. That means I have displaced that responsibility for my renewal, for my transformation and have taken that burden on

my own, frail shoulders.

To let God be God requires submission, takes a lot of waiting, but elicits freedom.

Well, then, fine. God, can have that responsibility. But, why can't I just... "arrive"? If I'm still dealing with x, y, and z then where is He and what is He doing?

We believe God for the instantaneous healing. We ask and pray and thank Him in advance for it.  But do we believe Him for the sovereignty of His timing?  And the perfection of His will?

If parting the Red Sea had taken days to occur, would we have still been in as much awe of God?  If turning the water into wine took a couple more hours, would it have still been called a miracle?  If Jesus chose to wait until Lazarus was dead to...

Lauren, if Jesus' transforming work in you -in removing the guilt and in renewing your mind and heart- takes longer than you'd like, does that mean He's any less involved in your life?

Some of God's most renowned work have been overnighters.  Our sanctification isn't going to be one of those. But it's still His work. And the God I know only does amazing, incredible, marvelous things (Psalm 72:18).

In putting your trust in Him and His truth, defend yourself against the lie that says that He's not going to finish what He's started in you.  "...being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

And don't believe that He ever stops.  "...My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I too am working.'" John 5:17

There's a purpose for process and the passing of time.  I'm learning -in the midst and in the grit of my own humbling sanctification- that it is because of His grace that He prioritizes the journey of my restoration over the destination. There's a purpose to His way and to His schedule.

The waiting keeps us close and keeps us leaning into Him. It keeps us throwing our weight and our faith onto Something sure. It helps us maintain a completely accurate and healthy perception of who we are:

Desperate without Him and consequently desperate to stay near Him.

“'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,' says the Lord. 'For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

Thank God. Acknowledge temptations. Acknowledge the flesh. Call it for what it is, and let God show you the way out. And call that for what it is: you're not a hopeless wreck. You're in a process. You're a work in progress. Positionally perfected by the blood of Jesus, but conditionally in process of being sanctified. Let God be God, let it take time, and while you wait, just

thank God.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time..." Ecclesiastes 3:11

Don't Be a Stranger

"Don't sacrifice living with Me for trying to live for Me, lest you render yourself exasperated, or worse, a stranger to My love."

Where some people hear a voice or feel a nudge on their shoulder, I get words.  And really good ones, too.  God's got great diction.

He put this on my heart a couple months ago when I was in a season of constant doing and very little being.  Upon realizing this, I just figured oh, well, then I need to add that to my to-do list: being. K, got it.  I'll even put a little check box next to it so at the end of the day I can review and make sure that I got that done.

Did I be?

Did I do my x number of verses through the Bible?

Did I make sure to not just pray, but to write it all out in my prayer journal?

Did I rest?

Check! And if not, then, Lauren, you better try harder tomorrow.  Be more productive and more purposeful with how and when you rest.

Well, I'm sure it goes without saying, but my attempt at applying what He was telling me didn't really get me out of the woods.

But why didn't it? Isn't that what He told me to do?
No, Lauren.  No, it wasn't.

Reflecting on what my life looked like, and has been looking like as of late, I've been realizing what's wrong, and at the same time amusing, about what I had and have been trying to do.  So first, things pile up.  And they're all "good" things.  Then, God being faithful and full of grace, shows me that I'm wearing myself out.  Dare I say it, I'm burning out.  So, what now?  Well, remedy it and rest!  Take time to "be".  (Now, this is where it gets interesting...) So schedule time for that.  Fit that in between all the other stuff you're doing.  Compartmentalize your day into work and rest, doing and being, serving and abiding.  Great, now everything's gravy.

Except it's not.  And that's because when it comes to any addition or subtraction to my day-to-day routine, my knee-jerk reaction is to view whatever it is as a chore and get it done.  And then when I miss those scheduled appointments to "be with Jesus", I guilt myself because I must not love Him enough.  So there, you have it: my mindset in a nutshell.  Everything's a chore; do your chores, and when you don't, feel bad for it.  The end.

I want to be responsible.  I want to be diligent.  Is there anything wrong with that?

Yes, actually there is- apart from Christ.  If He's not the priority and isn't permeating and transforming my desires and plans, then it's all futile.  Even in trying to live for Him, I can't bear real fruit by responsibility and diligence alone.

And that's because God's will for me is to be something so much better than anything I'm striving for in my own wisdom.  He wants me to be loved.  To identify myself by His heart for me, and to walk in that truth throughout the entirety of each day.

That's what it means to live with Him.

His desire is that we would not just know He loves us, but that that truth would be the foundation and basis for all our experiences, whether we are pouring out or getting poured in, awake or asleep.

Ephesians 3:17 "that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you, being rooted and grounded in love..."

Whatever I'm doing, God, may it be stemming from a mindset that You are with me.  I don't want to live my life busying myself with doing things "for Your kingdom" if I'm not aware and positioned in the middle of Your presence and love.

I don't want to be a stranger.

An Apology

Dear Godly Woman,

Let's just cut the formalities here; I don't really need to introduce myself to you.  You already know me, and most likely way better than I do myself.  As for the other way around, well, I had heard of you before- actually, I heard lies and legends about you.  But then, I saw you, heard you, encountered you myself.  I stopped to listen, to hear your story echo in the hearts of others.  And I realized I was completely wrong about you.

Which leads me to the meat of all this: I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for how I doubted your realness.  I just always figured you were only a fantasy- at best, a "nice idea" or a "good guideline".  You had just seemed so impossible.  And in the few instances I recognized you as an actual person, I'm sorry for therein utterly disrespecting you.  I flipped you off with the choices I made.  I called you the fool and tried to sell some distasteful propaganda with my brilliant takes on life and God.

Making purity about perfectionism, advocating this ignorant notion that it was just about not having sex.

Oh, and hating men.  All of them.  Forever.

Taking your strong stand for women and making it about pride and feel-better-about-yourself-ment, instead of letting it be about becoming all that God's graciously created us to be.  Instead of letting it be about the refinement and transformation of truth and love.

I did all I could to either protest you into nonexistence, or prove you wrong into impossibility.  I lived my life this way because I wasn't willing to consider what importance or influence you could have ever born on me, if you were actually out there.


Also, well, I was hoping that, by a whole lot of grace, this might maybe become the start of something very fresh and good.  Just maybe.  Because ever since I caught that glimpse of you, I realized that you were so much more than all I had misconstrued you to be.

I'd like to get to know you.  It'd mean so much to me to learn the inner workings of your mind and your heart.  I want to know everything about the real you, from your passions to the posture of your soul.


I want to learn how to love and honor you with the decisions I make today.


It's sweet to know that I was wrong; you're not as far off from reality and not as far away from me as I thought you were.

I feel that there should also be a "thank you" in the midst of all this apologizing.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your forgiveness.  I'm praying for you and am both humbled and thrilled to begin this beautiful journey of knowing you.

I'm sorry.
For everything.

But thank you.
For so much more.

With so much new love, new respect, and new hope,

Your Younger Self

I've Been Keeping Count

One year, seven months, five days.

I've been keeping track of how long it's been since I, well,... whatever the Christianese is for "got out of brutally deep trenches of sin".  And no, I don't really mean since I got "saved".  I mean since I stopped blatantly sinning against a savior I had already fallen for and chosen for myself. 

One year, seven months and five days ago, the love of Jesus and the bitter taste of choices made apart from Him gripped me to do the first honorable thing I had done in a long time: surrender.

I came back to Him.  And this wasn't like the other times; it was nothing like the memorized apologies that I would mumble through in half-hearted prayers.  No, this time was a decision that was intentional and full of faith- I knew with surety that Jesus had indeed sought me out and was ready to take me back.

I'll never forget it- coming back.  Being back.

It was as if I had been rescued, after having been stranded in a desert for years, and my first experience with water again was with Niagra Falls.  His love was exactly as I had remembered- the way it coursed through me, the way it tasted.  And it was exactly as I had dreamed during those years away.  It was all just as lovely and refreshing, but, it was in an overwhelming abundance that I had never imagined or experienced before.

And although I get to relive this joy with each new day and with each stripe I add to the tally, I haven't been.  Why?

Because I've been keeping count.

Because that which at its core has been meant for blessing and transformation, has started to feel like a tightrope.  This new life which has been meant for worship and praise, has become more about concealing my sigh of relief with a loose smile.

As more time has passed, that count has started to seem more like a threat, warning me that with every day that I happen to skirt those "big sins", I don't make myself any stronger.  No, I just make that next, seemingly impending prodigal-fall that much more of a drop.

And I hadn't realized it until today- a ten-hour drive will definitely do that for you.  But along with this sudden awareness of that insidious deception was the simultaneous reveal of something very, very sweet and very, very true.

I am not the one who has been carrying me these past five hundred plus days.

And the strength is not for me muster up.

No, for it is my Good Shepherd who has led me back into His light.  For it is His strength that is purposed to be perfected in my weakness.

For it's not a tightrope I brave and walk on, but a sea of grace and mercy I shall gladly drown in.

Dear Returned Prodigals,

Whether you've wandered from this Love once, twice, or 490 times, He will always be the One who heals and the One who restores.

His abilities don't change just because you feel your track record has.  His promises and His faithfulness have been and will always remain the same.

Don't let the world, the enemy, nor yourself ever convince you that the goal is good behavior or that the means is self-help.  For our God does a way better job at caring for us and transforming us than we ever could.

And don't pride, scare, or define yourself with that count.  But instead, every morning, equip yourself with His new set of mercies and choose that day whom you will serve.

Anticlimactic

 

May this stand as both a placeholder for a really good comeback post and an excuse as to why there isn't one here.

Yet.

When Darkness Falls

It's not everyday that you actually notice how fast the sun drops from the sky and how bright the moon really is.  Not everyday that you hear what's lurking under all the whirring and buzzing of your computer, television, stereo.  Not everyday you hear the silence.

You usually don't even notice that it's there.

Although last night may have been the longest time I've spent in darkness, it rendered a light that emanated reality and truth.

It initiated a widespread, inescapable exposé.

Blinking, red stoplights and traffic lines showed us for who we really were, as each inched up to that white line for evaluation.  Blank screens and untouched keyboards left people "unconnected" and lost.  The sound of shots echoed throughout neighborhoods, leaving trails of fear and helplessness.

Last night brought cities, communities, homes and individuals to the end of themselves, and without the disillusionment of luminescence, made you take a good, hard, accurate look at yourself.

It made us sit.  It made us sit still.  It made us either shake our fists at people who were laboring desperately into the night to restore our normalcy.  Or, it made us reflect and realize that we are but less than three days away from the death anniversary of our nation's normalcy.

What did you do?  What did you see in your world and yourself last night?

Whether you're cloaked in darkness or in light, there is someone whose vision transcends everything.

From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches
all who live on earth— he who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do.  Psalms 33:13-15

He sees you for what you are and knows you better than you'll ever be able to.  He cannot only name off every trivial and meaningful thing you've ever done, He can also describe every injury to your heart.

And the kicker is this: He's crazy about you.

Have that conversation with God that you've been running from.  You'll find that He's been dying to have a relationship with you.  You'll find that He already has.

Jesus Christ died on the cross for not just the "world's" sins- He died for your sins.  Put your trust in His irreplaceable love.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is. Jeremiah 17:7  He will not fail you.  As the world turns, as times catapult us into the unknown, and as darkness falls, He will not fail.