On truth-telling

People always tell me I'm a truth-teller. "Go ahead, Carly, tell me what you think", they say. They know I'll probably tell them something maybe the rest of their friends didn't, or won't. I often hear them say "I love that about you! You always tell me what I need to hear." But I've never really liked this about myself. It sometimes means people won't share with you (because they don't want to hear push back) and it sometimes means you lose friends. I remember the first time this went wrong. I was in 8th grade and all my friends had metaphorically pushed me to the front of a situation. "You tell her!" I did. It didn't go well and my friends scattered when I turned around for back up. This has more or less continued my entire life. I have been in countless situations where I'm elected (often self-elected) to speak truth. I look back and I can count up a few lost friendships, a few conversations gone wrong. Matt and I are currently standing in the wake that our truth-telling created in our latest ministry. When I think of times like that, I wish I could be the type of friend that just listens and loves you. The friend that nods along and offers to pray. I think of my friend Erica and how gentle and loving she is. I can pour out my problems and mistakes to her and she just bathes me in grace and compassion. She nods along. She often cries, even if I'm not. She'll offer to pray with me. She'll scold the offenders from my stories. She shows me so much grace. She's taught me so much about kindness. Sometimes I purposely call her up when I just want to be consoled.

I have some pretty great truth-tellers in my life too. Like my friend Kat. She's bold and honest, I love that about her. I seek after it, she does it so well. These days my very literal and fact-stating husband has slipped into her role, but often on my phone dates with Kat I still treat her like my truth-telling vending machine. I put in my quarter and ask her "tell me what you think about          ". It's a gift to have friends like that. To have people who are willing to look past your happiness and fight for your holiness. But it's hard to be a friend like that. Sometimes I fight it, trying to squirm away from the feeling in my chest that's prompting me to say something. I remember one time I told God if he had something to say to someone, to just tell them himself. (Don't do that.)

So this morning, as I started the book of Jeremiah I found great encouragement in his story. Jeremiah is called to reveal God's (brutal) message to Judah that judgement is coming. The first chapter spoke out to me.

"O Sovereign Lord," I said, "I can't speak for you! I'm too young!" The Lord replied, "Don't say, 'I'm too young', for you must go wherever I send you and say whatever I tell you. And don't be afraid the people, for I will be with you and will protect you." Jer. 1:6-7

I don't think that some people are truth-tellers and some people are not. I think that everyone who follows God in their life will be put in hard conversations that call for the truth to be told, in love and hopefully with lots of grace. But I can't help but notice that some people get put in those conversations more than others. God told Jeremiah that he set him apart, before he was even born, to be his messenger (1:5).

"Look, I have put my words in your mouth! Today I appoint you to stand up against nations and kingdoms. Some, you must uproot and tear down, destroy and overthrow. Others you must build up and plant." Jer. 1:8-9

I love that part. I've learned over the years that truth-telling doesn't just mean blurting out what no one else has the boldness to say. I need to be reminded, as Jeremiah reads, that truth-telling also means encouraging. Sometimes I think it always means reprimanding someone, or asking hard questions, but truth isn't always bad. Sometimes it means affirming someone in their gifting. Maybe it means encouraging someone after they did something hard. It can be just restating something they already know, but need to remember. "God loves you."

This means I can be a friend like Erica and still speak truth into someone's life. Actually, it means I should be like that if I want any space to speak into someone's life. I know, though, that no matter how gently and graciously I present hard truth to someone, it can still go wrong. I've experienced it. But in that moment, when my head hangs in devastation, I have to trust God. He knew exactly how the people were going to respond to Jeremiah's message to them, yet he still wanted them to hear it. It's part of his mercy. He gives us chances upon chances upon chances. He tugs on our sleeves, taps on our shoulders and whispers into our ears. I'm so thankful for the people in my life that are a part of that. Who forfeit comfort and risk our friendship to deliver God's message to me. I'm working on being thankful that God uses me to be a friend like that and I pray that I do it well, that I don't just uproot, but that I build up and plant.

Division

Last night, in the parking lot of Books-A-Million, I sat with my seat belt unbuckled, turned towards my husband as he unpacked some past family pain that pointed back towards some pretty recent church hurt we experienced. 

    When broken down, the bitterness Matt was sharing with me last night seemed understandable. A rift between family members out of protection from years of repeated mistakes and pain. When I think back on what we've experienced over the past few months, I feel justified in our choice to walk away from the church plant we were a part of. When my close friend explained to me yesterday why she has to fire someone in her ministry, I agreed with her. The Bible calls us to wisdom and sometimes, especially if abuse is involved, it is wise to walk away from something. To leave. It doesn't mean you don't think God can fix something. It doesn't mean you don't trust him or have hope in him. Maybe it just means you need to wait for him outside of the situation. But I hate this because I know that we aren't suppose to divide. We especially aren't suppose to divide from other believers. Even when we are suppose to. 

We shouldn't have left our church. But we absolutely had to. Matt shouldn't let family remain estranged, but it makes sense. My friend shouldn't give up on her coworker, but she needs to. 

Division isn't part of God's plan; but it is. Jesus tells us that his gospel will divide family members. And it does. I don't think division amongst believers is ever part of the plan, but it happens. As much conflict as the gospel brings, as much tension as it creates in our hearts, it also fills us with peace and equips us for reconcilation. It provides hope in hopeless situations. It redeems. 

I see the gospel of reconciliation in Joseph's story. At the end of Genesis, when famine threatens the lives of his brothers, they find themselves at the mercy of Joseph. Joseph has every right to turn away from them. The last time he saw them, they were plotting his death. But he doesn't. He should've. He could have, and we, as readers, as humans, would've understood. He doesn't choose revenge. He doesn't even choose division from them. He, instead, consoles them.

" 'Don't be afraid of me. Am I God, that I can punish you? You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good...no, don't be afraid. I will continue to take care of you and your children.' So he reassured them by speaking kindly to them." 

Yes, revenge belongs to the Lord. Leaving their punishment up to God is heroic to me. My fiery desire for justice burns just reading the story.  But even more honorable, even more unlikely and even more Christ-like is that he comforts them when they're afraid of what he might do. They are afraid of him and he reassures them that not only is he choosing not to retaliate, but he's also choosing to take care of them. Grace on top of mercy. 

This story empowers me. 

I'm not suggesting that this means we need to vow to never walk away from someone or that anything other than how Joseph responded is wrong. I'm just marveling at the work of our God as he redeems their broken relationships.  I see his character in Joseph. I see his heart for forgiveness, I see his desire for redemption and I want more of his grace to give out when I read this story. It reminds me that he can heal anything. Sometimes it's okay to walk away from something  that's hurting you. Something that's broken or someone that's unsafe. It really is; God is not outside of that. But this morning, I'm encouraged as I remember that I'm under the care of the God in that story. We share a heart, him and I, and it's possible to respond the way that he would. The way that he did, with us. 

Emmanuel

I'm sitting in my living room, surrounded by boxes and bubble-wrapped belongings. Most of which smell like cinnamon, since all of our moving boxes were swiped from the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf warehouse on the day their cinnamon tea shipment arrived.

I'm staring into the face of a 40 hour work week, almost all double shifts, packing and cleaning our house, all before we hand over the keys to our landlord and hop on a flight to Alabama. We're heading there for the summer to be with Matt's family and support them as we figure out how to fight for his aunt's life being held in the ruthless grip of cancer.

After momentarily kicking up our feet after work each night to scarf down dinner from the freezer section of Trader Joe's, we continue packing and loading up our storage unit. Wincing every time the phone rings and hoping it's not more bad news, we press on. The temptation to collapse in sobs in the fetal position tugs at me, but I can't. As the room metaphorically darkens and my mind wanders away from truth and panic starts to quicken my heart beat, I stop.

At this point, even if I wanted to, I don't think I could panic or meltdown. I mean, talk to me in three days after I've worked three 12 hour days in customer service...but right now, my heart is solid. My trust in God's character is strong. He has been more real to me in the past two weeks than ever before. His love. His care. His sovereignty. His control over our circumstances.

The week we got the news from Matt's family, we started talking loosely about going out there to be with them. His job, my jobs and our lease started a large list of reasons it wouldn't work for us to go. But like a winding line of dominoes, God started knocking things out one by one, paving our way to the south. Matt's bosses were incredibly compassionate and although not legally obligated, are allowing him to leave and switch to part time, working from home, giving us just enough to cover our bills and expenses while we're gone.

Our landlord was very understanding and let us out of our lease. She found people to move in just days after we leave, making a seamless transition in renters for her and saving us hundreds of dollars paying our last month of rent here. The new renters are regulars from the coffee shop I work at, making it easier to pass off my beloved garden in the season of blooming and our sweet, little home to them.

Both of my bosses were incredibly understanding when I gave them my notice, easing my nerves and calming my shaking hands. They both encouraged me a ton and both told me my jobs would be waiting for me when I got back, if I was interested.

Having all those big things knocked out of our way would have been enough to encourage us that we made the right choice, but he didn't stop there. He has continued to lavish us in his blessing and care since the moment we started packing. Our beloved Bethany's spontaneous trip to California became not-so-spontaneous when she arrived the same day we got news that Matt's aunt's condition was worsening, quickly. After wiping away our tears, we spent the evening with Beth, laughing over a huge pizza and mapping out our shortened plan to get out of here. Our plane tickets out there are completely covered since we're using vouchers we received from American Airlines. In January, on our flight out to Alabama, our plane made an emergency landing after there were problems with the landing gear. I was absolutely inconsolable and terrified as the pilot instructed us over the intercom, crying and preparing myself for what I assumed was a crash landing (nevermind that everyone else on the plane was rolling their eyes at my overreaction to what apparently wasn't that big of an emergency..). A small amount of trauma and fear is now being used as a huge blessing in the form of free plane tickets.

We put together a last minute garage sale on Saturday and in just a few hours, all of our unwanted items were gone and we had an envelope stuffed with cash.

Matt and I are clinging close to each other, careful to check in with the other person and take care of each other.

I could go on and on with a list of God's presence in our trials over the past few weeks. He has proved to me over and over again that he is with us. Emmanuel. Why do I ever doubt it?

Darkness

At the end of December, Matt and I decided to step away from the church plant we've invested in for the past year or so. We stepped into 2013 tired and sore from the year before, but hopeful. After only a few pages of the calendar have fallen to the floor, we have endured more pain and trials. Returned cancer. Division. Family pain. An unmet family member, lost.

Through it all, God has been slathering us with his grace. I've been devouring the psalms, basking in their light and savoring their truth. Lately, there have been so many gentle reminders of his presence, his care and his love for us. This sermon has been an important part of my healing. Hearing it from the back of someone else's church, sitting in a chair I didn't help set up, drinking coffee I didn't help make, the words poured over my heart. Simple and important truths coming from a man's mouth who has endured incredible pain and severe loss, greater in measure than mine. Whose heart shouldn't be able to see things so clearly. Who is obviously hosting the Holy Spirit.

I resonate greatly with the psalmist who writes "your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path". I don't find myself in a well-lit room. I feel as though I'm carefully stepping through a dark forest. Overgrown grass and fallen branches make it impossible to find a trail. But I have a lantern. It doesn't illuminate the entire forest, it sheds only enough light for the few steps in front of me. I lift it to eye level, waving it slowly from left to right to try to see ahead at what's next in my journey, but I can only see what's directly in front of me.

It's the perfect picture of God's presence and his word; a handheld lamp, giving us enough light for one step at a time but never leaving us alone in the darkness.

Authentic Love

Lately I've felt overwhelmed by my wandering heart. A heart that wanders away from the pure, incomparable love of Jesus and moves towards the evaporating lust this world offers.

I settle for the counterfeit product. Attention, value or approval offered by a fallen, broken world. It's cheap, but imitates the true love I deeply desire. It looks so similar, especially at just a glance or from a distance. But up close, when I study it, I realize how fake it is. Like a replica of a name brand item, it's quickly exposed.

But the Bread of Life, he satisfies deeply. His love not only meets my need, but completely satisfies my appetite. When consumed properly, I'm not hungry anymore. The need for praise, approval and attention from people dissipates and I wonder why I wanted it in the first place. My idols become cheap and exposed; they're so obviously worthless. 

I see things like Twitter, blogs and Instagram multiply this appetite. The opportunity of over-share to say something interesting or post something desirable, all in the palm of my hand. To be "followed" or "liked".  We feed on it.

I feel this way in my marriage. I wander away from the gospel of Jesus and into a false gospel. I start to believe that if Matt just loves me enough, I'll be fulfilled. Maybe if we go on more dates. If only we read more books together. If only he complimented me more. If only he anticipated my every need. If only he did this, or that. I begin to think that I'm going to "arrive" at some finish line where we finally have it figured out and I won't want anymore.

Overwhelmed, I lean into this:

"The Lord is my shepherd;
I have all that I need."

Psalm 23:1 (NTL)

The more I choose his love, the less I want from this world, from people or from Matt.

Criticism

"So then, let us aim for harmony in the church and try to build each other up." Romans 14:19 

Matt and I always joke about having "the gift of a critical spirit". Whether it's movies or food, we are quick to offer up opinions. It was my brother who pointed this out to us. It was over a year ago on Easter Sunday. We were spending time with my family in Seattle and had picked a small church to go to before brunch. Not knowing anyone in the congregation, we sat back and absorbed the scene. Honestly, I can't really remember much about the service that morning, but the car ride back is easy to recall. As soon as we had our seat belts buckled, my sister Ashby, my husband Matt and I all began to pick apart the service. Everything from the bulletins that were handed to us as we arrived to the song the band played as we exited were under our judgmental microscope. My brother, who is not a regular church attender, sat quiet in the back. I waited for him to join in, or at least confess that he had slept through the entire service (surely he had something to say about the slide show, right?). Finally, one of us asked him what we thought, suddenly aware of the sway our criticism might be having on him. He lightly shook his head, a puzzled look on his face.

I don't remember his answer word for word, but he told us that he thought it was a great service. He didn't care about the corny worship leader, the dated decorations or the length of the message. He wanted to go to church and celebrate Jesus' resurrection and he did. Silenced and humbled, we nodded along to his answer. 

Paul addresses the danger of criticism in great detail in Romans 14. Glancing over it this morning, I'm reminded of what really matters. 

"For the Kingdom of God is not a matter of what we eat or drink, but of living a life of goodness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. If you serve Christ with this attitude, you will please God, and others will approve of you, too." 14:17

I know that when soaked in grace and centered on Jesus, my critical spirit can be used for the good of the church. But apart from him, it's judgmental, haughty and wrong. 

Bulbs

I’ve recently inherited a garden that I have no idea how to care for. Besides watering, fertilizing and pruning, I have no further knowledge on what this garden needs. On Saturday morning, I woke up before my husband, as usual, crept out of bed and went to the backyard. I raked up fallen leaves from our orange tree, pulled weeds surrounding the tomato plants and laid down some new soil for upcoming winter vegetables. Later, I wandered around downtown until I found the local nursery. Peering over the stacked boxes of fertilizer I was balancing in my arms, I asked the man behind the counter which one he recommended. I walked away with a few helpful tips on how to revive my basil and a bag of organic something-or-other. I strolled down the street to the library and checked out three books with helpful titles like “Gardening in Southern California” and “Vegetables 101”. With determination, I headed home, ready to equip myself to succeed.

I spent Saturday afternoon reading through the books, fascinated by how much planning and preparation goes into growing the vegetables I effortlessly pick up at the market. I took notes, placed Post Its on important pages and photo copied planting schedules. While reading up on a chapter about how to properly plant bulbs, I came across this paragraph:

“Even if you plant a bulb upside down in the ground, they send their shoots up and their roots down. Sending up their shoots takes longer, and wastes some energy, but they manage. Eventually, the bulbs even reorient themselves in the ground.”

I imagined how frustrating it would be to put all the time and energy into preparing the soil, buying the right fertilizer, learning how to properly care for the plant and then plant the seed or bulb incorrectly. Not only is it fascinating to me that a bulb can turn itself right-side up in the ground on it's own, but it was also a very small reminder of a very vast thing:

In the end, God will have his way.