Intervention

I am not too proud to admit that I sometimes get discouraged and afraid.

Some days, it’s just hard. Some days I feel good. But still, on other days, I feel like pulling the covers over my head in the morning and pretending that not getting out of bed is a viable option for me.

Sometimes I get emails that say things I want to hear and make me feel good. Other times I get emails that cause me to cry or become frustrated, maybe even angry.

Sometimes I feel successful with my family. Other times I feel like I have failed at nearly every responsibility with these 4 people I have ever been given.

Some days, I feel compelled and inspired to write. Other days I have enough sense to know I need to stop my fingers from typing something I have no business sharing with anyone but God.

Some moments I see what God is doing, and I don’t even need glasses. Other moments I have no concept of what He might be trying to do and I wonder why He doesn’t see that I am not cut out for the deal He’s got me in.

I hope you can relate to me. Otherwise, I am more blitzed than I think I am.

I won’t lie: the times when I am feeling like Plans A – Z haven’t worked out for me, my Bible becomes my lifeline. My prayers get amped up. I look for God more – maybe even desperately so – in every day things. I get more demanding of His presence in my life. Otherwise, I can’t hold on.

If my email inbox is any indication, I think we are on the same page. One of the emails I got this week was from a friend whose daughter is hurting over a love she feels she won’t ever get over. Another was from a young woman who lost her mom not even 8 weeks ago and doesn’t understand why she resents God for it. Yet another was from someone who is having a tough time hanging on to life, in general.

I got a CaringBridge update on my friend, Kris, who has cancer. He’s struggling, still. It drove me to pray for him, the very second I got it.

I got a rejection email, even though it didn’t say that in the subject line. But I have read through the lines before. Say it nice or say it not nice, it’s still a rejection. And rejections hurt, no matter how they come.

Listen, friend…this is my life. It is the good, bad, ugly and everything in between. Yet, I resist things that I don’t like with every fiber of my being because I am naturally drawn to pleasure and not pain. Thus far in my life, I’ve never met anyone who isn’t.

When I am wrought with feelings of discouragement or fear, invariably, I travel back to the same conclusion as last week, last month, last year. And that is that life is not easy because it’s not meant to be easy. Life is an ebb and flow – full of beautiful things and things that almost literally inhale our soul.

If we are believers, we say we love God. We say we need God. But when life is a DisneyWorld vacation, we tend to shelve those particular things and tell God we’ll talk to Him later. We are much too busy buying things, riding things, seeing things, experiencing things and trying things to have a one-on-one with Someone who isn’t available for autographs or photo ops.

We can’t touch God or see Him, so we grab at those things we can.

But when those things crumble in front of us, we are forced to finally face Him.

It’s in that moment that we are finally available to have a divine interaction with the Most High.

It is the most desperate place to be. It is the most raw and most real. It is the most effective. It is when we stop thinking of God only when we need a close parking place at the Mall and instead, desperately grab onto His collar and beg Him to come and invade our discouraged and fearful life.

Glory to God for sticking around for those moments we need an intervention. Praise Him for giving us things that bring us to recognize we even have that need in the first place. Bless His name, for as long as we have breath in our body, we have the ability to worship our Rescuer.

In the end, as in the beginning, that’s life.

Rich

If you saw my bank account, you would laugh at the title of this post. Without going into any great detail, let me assure you that finances have nothing to do with it. The economic mess we’re in as a country has not fallen short of affecting the Whittle family. Trust me. (Unless, of course, you consider $2.56 a lot of money to have in the bank.)

But despite my current financial status, I am feeling really wealthy these days. Surplus-laden. Downright filthy rich.

Honestly.

And it’s not just a cute play on words or because of the holiday season we are in, either. I love Thanksgiving, but it mainly centers around the fact that I am a girl who loves her food, and I get into the turkey, cranberry sauce, and deviled eggs. I mean, the truth of the matter is that it kind of gets on my nerves that people suddenly start becoming really thankful the month of November. It’s as if we need cornucopias, fake butternut squash, and pictures of pilgrims eating family style at a big wooden table to remind us that we are way more blessed than we should be.

Instead, I find that circumstances often do more for me in the thankfulness category than a seasonal holiday. Things sometimes happen in my life that remind me to see the things around me and love them for their value rather than allow them to continue to be invisible to my senses. I have made no bones about the fact that I am super hard-headed. So it usually takes circumstances on a spiritually-nuclear level to bring me to the point of which I write about – the point of recognizing that my life is really, super rich.

A circumstance, as of late, has brought that needed clarity to my life, once again. Over the past few days I have found myself re-visiting my life scrapbook and appreciating what is on its pages. Here are some of my thoughts about it, in no particular order…

I am rich because for the first time in my life I don’t want to be 21, again. I see the great value in my life experiences and appreciate the wisdom they have afforded.

I am rich because I am ok with the fact that I am not a size 4…or 6…or even, 8. I like myself and won’t be so consumed with staying the size Hollywood says I should be that I compromise my spiritual, mental or physical well-being to do it.

I am rich because I am beginning to hate what is evil and cling to what is good. I’ve come a long way to be able to say that and it be true.

I am rich because I don’t have to anesthetize myself with over-eating, over-exercising, over-shopping, over-drinking, over-volunteering, or over-achieving in order to be able to deal with life.

I am rich because the other day I heard my 12-year old son call me “mom,” and it was as if I was hearing it for the very first time. It made me smile and think about the fact that something I always wanted to be, I now am.

I am rich because after 14 years I pursue holding my husband’s hand now more than I ever have. And that, friends, qualifies as a miracle. :)

I am rich because I live in a breathtakingly beautiful city, where the Master Artist spent some of His best ability painting. Even more, I like the fact I appreciate the beauty.

I am rich because I embrace life more these days. I enjoy new experiences and not having to control them like I used to want to.

I am rich because I get to do life with some of the most amazing people I have ever known – which may include laughter, tears, raw conversations about God or all of the above.

I am rich because I understand where I am in my life. I get what it’s all about. I’m good with where I have been. I trust where I am going is taken care of, even if I don’t know exactly what that looks like.

I am rich because I am not afraid to get hurt nearly as much as I used to be. I have been rejected, disappointed and generally misunderstood before and lived through it. I may have even thrived because of it.

Most of all, I am rich because I finally see how much I need God. I long to be rocked to my core, as long as I can have His presence in my life. I never want to be the girl who doesn’t feel or experience but lives with a safe and neatly gift-wrapped life.

Being wealthy might be nice. But today, I could not feel better off. My stash is overflowing because I have the ability to actually see it in front of me. How very rich…I am.

Child-Like

To my She Seeks friends who have found their way over after my inspirational entry this morning....WELCOME! I'm so glad you stopped by. My goal is to post every Monday, but as you can see from my previous posts, I sometimes fail to accomplish this. (Grace! :) But know this: when I do post, it will be something that is truly on my heart to share. So come back by or sign up to follow my blog...follow me on Twitter or request me as a friend on Facebook. I am honored to share thoughts from my journey with you.

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Once again, one of my children has been a catalyst for self-analysis in my life.

It happened this morning when I went to get my daughter up and out of bed.
Before she had even cracked her sleepy eyes open, her mouth started moving. These were the words that came out of it:

“Mom, this is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

Immediately, my heart began to stir. I was tired. Some things were weighing on me. But at the same time, her words resonated somewhere deep within me, where I longed to go and camp out for awhile.

It is the place where good things like faith and love and hope reside. It is the place where simple is better and less is more and naivety is a gift. It is the place where God is love and that is enough for me to want to share it with others. It is a place that has no real understanding of what people are capable of, and that is ok. It is the place where I am not over burdened, burnt out or jaded. It is a place of safety and trust – housing no control issues and no ulterior motives.

It is where a child resides because they haven’t lived long enough to be messed up by the crud of the world. It’s where my daughter currently lives, as evidenced by the joy felt in her words about her favorite day of the week.

It didn’t take much self-reflection to understand what God was saying to my heart…

“Love me like a child, Lisa. Remember what it’s like to rejoice over the simple.“

I know I can’t go back to being 7, again. Life has happened in front of my very eyes, and suddenly, today I become a woman of 38. But the ability to become open and willing and eager and joyful and optimistic is mine to claim. These things are possible, simply because Jesus is my source of life. Circumstances around me don’t have to change for me to saturate myself in the fact that I am a child of God, He loves me, and the day I have today is a gift, plain and simple.

Though the world isn’t always safe.

Though my relationships aren’t always easy.

Though words hurt, my body gives out, rejection happens and there are things I can’t control.

This is the day He has made. My daughter says it is reason enough to rejoice, and I happen to believe her.

Re-defining

Two days ago, standing in my kitchen, God spoke a word to my heart…

“Re-defining.”

I have been thinking about it ever since.

I’m not all that smart, but I can take a hint when I hear one. Clearly, God has noticed that I have mis-labeled myself somewhere along the way and He needs to make some adjustments.

I get it. I feel it.

Listen, everyone says they hate labels. I am no different. I dislike professional bios for people like me for that very reason. It becomes, then, the unspoken thing of either “this is what I do and you don’t” or “this is who I am and base my identity on.” In either case, I don’t like it. I understand the reason behind it, but I don’t like it. It feels like a label to me.

But if I’m honest I have to admit that I been labeled a million times over, sometimes by myself and other times by others. Here are just a few of the nametags I have worn through the years…

Hi, my name is Lonely.
Hi, my name is Shame.
Hi, my name is Popular.
Hi, my name is Insecure.
Hi, my name is Fat.
Hi, my name is Confident.
Hi, my name is Fun.
Hi, my name is Controversial.
Hi, my name is Dumped.
Hi, my name is Reckless.
Hi, my name is Misunderstood.
Hi, my name is Fearless.

I could go on.

As I look back at these labels, I see where none of them have been particularly helpful to me. They were based on things I felt at the time and may or may not have been justified or been caused by my actions or reactions. What I’ve learned is that sometimes people label others unfairly. And sometimes (though unfairly), those labels stick.

But I have to also be honest enough to say that more often than not, we label ourselves. We decide that we are one way and we plant ourselves there. We determine the way we act on a daily basis by the label we give ourselves, even when it’s not a very good idea and doesn’t get us very emotionally far.

I will be the first to raise my hand and admit that for myself.

With this word, “re-defining” that God so clearly spoke to my heart, I know He is trying to tell me to stay the course, as He is in the process of re-defining who I am. But in order to let Him do that, I have to stop thinking of myself as who I was, who others think I am, or who I have always been. It is a clearing of the heart and mind of a “definition” of myself to allow Him to “re-define” me for His glory and purpose on this earth.

It’s tough, because old habits die hard.

Labels stick.

And people like to define things.

But the bottom line is that many of us, myself included, desperately need to be re-defined by Him. We need to stop putting labels on ourselves and let Him determine who we need to be. That may mean that we lose the desire to be popular over being holy. That may mean we let go of the need to be heard or seen. That may mean that we are ok with not playing a role for people that they have come to expect or count on. It may result in us dipping into waters unknown and garage-saleing our identity based on a job or life role or even, painful past experience. I don’t know what all it means.

But if it means what I think it means, then freedom from labels is right around the corner for those of us who are interested.

When I think of it that way, continuing to define myself doesn't make much sense.

So as I write this, I praise God for His amazing ability to “re-define”...and that He's interested enough in me to take on the challenge of removing all my labels. May we all rest in His ability to do more with our lives than we can possibly imagine, including re-defining what has always been who we thought we were.

nothingness.

Last Sunday, I did something really spiritual.

I went to a local woman’s home named Joanie and fed 35 fellow Charlotteans who are homeless. I didn’t take my usual Sunday afternoon nap that day, nor did I go home after church and slip into my track pants and husband’s baggy t-shirt, as is my custom. Instead, I slopped food into compartmentalized Styrofoam plates that clearly exceeded their weight limit.

But before you award me the “Most Likely to Become Spiritual” award and start clapping and cheering for me, let me just tell you the gut-level truth.

I really didn’t want to go.

I was having one of those days. I was tired and weary, if not borderline sick. I was emotionally drained and spiritually dry. I really didn’t have anything to give, and the last thing I wanted to do was go and give some more.

The. Last. Thing.

But it was more than just that.

I think you should know that I am really lame when it comes to serving people. Super lame. Not only is it not my spiritual gift, but it is also not something I am used to doing…ashamed, as though, I am to admit it. I’ve lived many years in a comfortable pew without being asked to do very much for God…and honestly, I’ve liked it that way.

I admire my believing-counterparts who have such ease with their service and have an acute sensitivity to the hurting. I wish I had their abilities in this area and could serve with such effortlessness. Instead, I am so lame when it comes to serving that I am a cross between an awkward middle schooler and a newborn fawn…totally insecure and completely self-conscious…and really wobbly when out of my safe and natural environment.

I could fill this post with many more details about last Sunday’s mission project. But you know the drill, I can imagine. I came, and I served food. I met some new faces and had some conversations. I was simultaneously convicted about how much I have and reminded of how important it is to do God’s work, no matter how it is presented to me. All of these things.

But on this particular day, what was most impactful to me was the 10 minutes between the informal backyard hellos and the slabs of store-bought carrot cake being hoisted onto plates of hungry people: Joanie’s message.

I’m not sure who Joanie had in mind when she prepared her message. I kind of doubt it was intended for me, especially since we had never met. And unless she was The Great Invisible Eavesdropping Woman, she wasn’t around when I whispered to God in the kitchen just moments prior… "Please, Lord. Say something I need to hear. Bring me a word from You. Because right now, I’ve got nothin.’ ”

Joanie spoke from Hebrews, and God spoke through her, straight to my heart. Here were her points, with my paraphrase and in no particular order…

Don’t quit.

Be grateful.

Trust God.

Have joy.

Live love.

A few minutes later, after the food was served and the service had wrapped, Joanie and I were in the kitchen. With tears in the brim of my eyes, I told her how much her message meant to me and how God had used her to speak to my heart. It was then that she turned to me and said something I didn’t expect… “I’m so glad, honey, because I didn’t have anything this morning. I told God, “you are gonna have to give me something because right now, I’ve got nothin.’ ”

The familiarity of her words surprised me...confused me...and comforted me, all at the same time. But one thing was for sure...I knew they were not uttered out of sheer coincidence because that is just not His style.

Even as I write this, I am reminded of Joanie’s words. And over a week later, they seem to be, yet again, right where I am.

Don’t quit. Over the past month, I’ve resigned my life like 3,000 times.

Be grateful. I have so much, yet I want another couple of things to decorate my house with.

Trust God. Wow. I think sometimes I’m better at almost anything else.

Have joy. I have had some serious pity parties lately.

Live love. I am a professional receiver and a farm-team giver.

Listen…I am a strong woman, but sometimes this faith journey kicks my butt. I’d like to believe I’m willing to live a million moments serving God, even if that means I feel really awkward and out-of-the-norm doing it.

But sometimes, that’s just not the case.

The thing is, I’m realizing that I have to first run out of things to say so He can actually speak through me. I’m understanding that when I am at the place where quitting seems like the most plausible option, there is newfound room for Him to give me a much better one.

It is the place of “nothingness.” And it is the place, I am learning, that I most need to be .

Seriously, whatever.

I absolutely love the inspirational entry this week on She Seeks.

Not because it is well-written, though it is.

Not because it is insightful, though it is.

And not because I relate to the specific struggle my friend, Heather, writes about in her battle with brain cancer.

{Because, by the grace of God, I do not.}

But because of this, Heather’s first statement of her post:

“I’m sitting here, trying to think about how to put my heart into words, but the only thing that comes out is ‘Whatever, Lord.’ ”

I love this line because I myself, am at a “whatever, Lord” stage in my life. I relate to not being able to put my heart into words, and I relate to the only thing that I can really say to God in a raw, real way lately is, “whatever, Lord.”

I’ve found them to be among the most powerful of words.

Now you need to know that I am not the most compliant of all His kids, to be sure. In fact, I have had my picture on many a heavenly “runaway” milk cartons in my day. Trust me when I say that everything (and I do mean e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g) within me begs to continue to do things my way. On a daily basis it seems, I want to continue to put my own, controlled spiritual notches on my belt without having to deal with the discomfort of being misunderstood, misrepresented or physically inconvenienced on my faith journey. The funny thing about God is, I’ve found that He doesn’t typically beg me to see things His way. Instead, He lets me run my own agenda and waits until I ask Him to mop up the horrendous mess my independence has made. Just how big of a mess it creates is determined by how long I run it before I get on my knees and say to Him…

“Whatever, Lord.”

These words for me don’t come easy. I am not good at giving up control. Even now, I want to qualify my “whatever” with some element of restraint -- some “I will if you will first do this’s”…some “I’ll try but I can’t promise it’ll happen’s”…and some “I can do this but not that’s.” The bottom line is that I still stinkin’ want so much for God to do things my way so I can be downright managerial with my relationships and feelings and live in my world of "self protection." It's not that it works out better for me, it's just that it's so...familiar...so comfortable. And in that moment, so much easier.

But always, in the end, I know that the life I have chosen is the one that says, “Whatever, Lord.” And while I don’t know what “whatever, Lord” will mean 10 hours or 10 years from now, I do know that the life of surrender is the only one I am able to live since I gave Him my heart at the age of 6 in the worship center of my daddy's church in the small, sleepy town of Enid, Oklahoma.

I can run. {and I have tried.}

I can hide. {done that, too.}

I can wrestle and I can control. {got the t-shirt, blue ribbon and trophy all to show for it.}

But I was not made to live, running my own agenda. In the end, they have proven to just be really messy. But I was made to come back to my Creator after my moments of running, lift my palms up and say…

“Whatever, Lord.”

Whatever that means.

It simply has to be, "whatever."

Matthew 6:9-10 -- " Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

No One Else

Thank God, I’ve never been in a physically abusive relationship, like my friend whose experience is documented this week on our She Seeks site. {www.sheseeks.org}

But her story made me think about my own relationships through the years.

As I write this, I enjoy a solid, loving relationship with my husband of 14 years. For that, I rejoice…and to a degree…marvel. Because like most people I know, I have been in relationships with people who I loved that rejected me, wanted to change me, and made me feel less than in some way.

I’ve had people choose to love someone other than me. I’ve had people tell me I didn’t have what they were looking for and that they didn’t love me enough to work on the things that were driving us apart. Sometimes they didn’t say it with words. Other times they did.

Through the years those kinds of relationships brought pain of a different sort.

They were the kind that hurt my heart. They were the kind that made me want to be someone with a better personality, better body or better abilities. They were the kind that made me want to be the funniest girl in the room or at least, the best flirt. They were the kind that made me want to be…worthy.

When I think back to these relationships, I think about the fact that in order to make them work, I always had to change something about myself.

I think that’s one of the reasons I love my Jesus so very much.

He’s been my closest companion through every tear…every moment of struggle…and every question of “why” I’ve thrown at Him. He’s held me when my heart broke over a relationship I just couldn’t make work, no matter how hard I tried. He’s comforted me when I decided to take that same heart and move on, even though the prospect of something else scared me to death.

And then He’s taken it a step further.

He’s never expected me to be perfect or look a certain way in order for Him to love me. He’s never cared if I behaved well in my down moments. He’s never judged me for dropping the Christian act and vomiting my true, nitty-gritty, deep-down feelings to Him. He’s never asked me to change, unless it was to my benefit.

For these reasons and many others, there is no one else who deserves my loyalty, love and commitment like my Jesus. Through the years He has singlehandedly convinced me that true love does exist, and it never makes me feel compromised or desperate.

So as I think today about love…life…and relationships…I write these words as a “thank you” to my Savior, Jesus Christ. I thank Him for showing me love and offering me acceptance. I thank Him for letting me be exactly who I am, mountainous flaws and all. I thank Him for looking past my poorly behaved moments and seeing that I still have worth and value as a person.

I can honestly say that I have never loved anyone like I love Him. He is more than all my dreams and desires and raw passions put together. I will never get over Him, and I never have to. He is the true and lasting lover of my soul.

Praise be to God, no one else will do.