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. 

 

TV

Over the last few days, I've been turning on episodes of 7th Heaven that are airing as I unpack our house. It's been really fun to rewatch the show; I use to watch it quite religiously when I was growing up. Something that I didn't notice before is how much they talk about God without talking about Jesus. In fact, he's never mentioned. Forgiveness, faith and spiritually are frequent plot lines, but they don't ever talk about Jesus, the cross or the resurrection.

Early on in the week, I was flipping through the channels with Matt after a long day of moving. We came across "So You Think You Can Dance" and I talked him into watching until the next commercial break. Right as we were watching, one of the contestants was being voted off. Before he walked off stage, he grabbed the microphone from the host and proclaimed "I just want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, thank you and have a good night!"

I read this verse a few mornings ago and it has stuck with me:

"For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come. Through him, then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." Hebrews 13:14-16

I hope to have lips that acknowledge the name of Jesus. 

Philippians love.

I'm reading the book of Philippians this week in order to cheer my soul. I don't necessarily need cheering, but Philippians is my favorite book and I always look forward to the way chapter four revives me. In addition to the encouragement Paul offers in his writing, I've also been brought to my knees with conviction this week. Today I was particularly in awe of Jesus' character illustrated in chapter 2 and thought I would share it.

"Don't be selfish; don't try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others better than yourselves. Don't look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and he died a criminal's death on a cross." Philippians 2:3-8

Jesus didn't cling to power, prestige or privilege. But he submitted to God in obedience. I've noticed myself struggle for position and power in my marriage lately, internally. Thoughts that begin with "I shouldn't have to ___" run rampant in my mind as I cling to my pride.

O, how quick I am to protect my pride. If there is every a doubt of how fabulous I am or how much attention I deserve, I make it known. Whether it's a constant dedication to how I look or how intelligent I sound, or how sincere and deep my faith is, or how well my husband is supposed to love me, I am keeping tabs on it.

So this morning, as I look at who Jesus is, I am humbled. He didn't cling to his authority. He gave up his privileges to humble himself in obedience. This morning my heart deflated in sorrow for my selfish ambition and swelled with great love for our King.

A Reminder

      As I've mentioned before, Matt and I are a part of a very small church plant in Ventura. We joined in about 9 months ago when the core team was developing, which also happened to be our second week of marriage. I'm sure we will look back on this time and shake our heads at our decision to be in such a demanding ministry right after being married, but in the meanwhile, we love it. Mostly. Some weeks are hard. Images of me sitting in the back row of some established church drinking their complimentary coffee and enjoying their full-band worship cross my mind often. I love the raw, messiness of church planting; it makes the gospel authentic and personal to me. But at the same time, there are days when being a part of this new ministry leaves me exhausted, doubtful and frustrated.

Yesterday was one of those days. I didn't want to go to our home community; sip on tea, snack on dessert and engage in conversation while personal, intimate details from the lives of our friends are shared. I wanted to open a box of cookies from Trader Joe's and watch a movie with Matt, preferably in sweatpants. Our pastor, sensing our group's lowered morale, had asked a friend of his to join us for the night and share part of his story. He is a fellow church planter in Longbeach, which is known for it's rough-around-the-edges environment. Or to be blunt: for being ghetto. He is a few years ahead of us in the church planting game so he shared with us a few things he's learned. He sat in the middle seat of the L-shaped couch in a living room full of people and while mostly looking at the floor, opened up to us about the things he and his family have been through over the past few years. His stories brought laughter, tears, sympathetic noises and "amens" from almost every person circled up around him. Mostly because it is easy to identify with his experience: church planting is hard. Beyond that, I was moved by his simple yet captivating summary; planting a church is all about Jesus. Ministry is all about Jesus. We should be all about Jesus. Again, the simplicity of it is obvious. And I won't speak for everyone in that room but I feel comfortable assuming that we all felt ministered to by him. It's so easy to be pulled to and fro by the ups and downs of a new ministry, a new group and a new city. It's even easier to start working from within, trying to take control of things and accomplish them yourself.

He had nothing new or flashy to say to us. He wasn't holding a church-planting secret or offering us something we didn't know. He didn't rattle off Scripture or attach his story to men from the Bible. He shrugged, lifted his head and reminded us why we were sitting in that living room in the first place. We love and believe in Jesus and his ability to change lives.

Mountains

"We need that mountain. I need that mountain to understand God better."

I overheard that sentence recently while I was in Oregon visiting family. Narrow, winding roads led us to a beautiful cabin in eastern Washington where we all gathered for the weekend. Tall, consuming windows in the living room made space for the view of Mt. Adams. I was sitting on one of the couches that faced the mountain when I overheard that sentence. The sky was an uncharacteristic shade of blue and there were no clouds. The mountain looked epic.

Without hearing the second half of that conversation, I could agree. That mountain helped me understand God better that day too. That day, nothing seemed more real, more outstanding or more majestic to me than the crisp, clear view of Mt. Adams. But other days, the clouds roll in and you can't see the mountain as well, or sometimes, at all. I can't remember quite where it stands or quite what it looks like. I know it's there, but it's easy to down play it. But on a clear day, it takes my breath away. The analogy here is obvious. Sometimes God's presence in my life is so abundantly clear that it takes my breath away. Other days, I can't see it as well. Regardless, it's always there.

Loud Singing

Life is loud. Literally and metaphorically loud. We live in the busiest time in history, where a gap in your schedule isn't just rare, it's avoided. We are physically racing around, which of course results in mentally racing around.
    As I mentioned in my previous post, I am in a quieter, calmer season of life. This has not resulted in a quieter, calmer thought life, unfortunately. If anything, it's louder and more hectic. My thoughts drift between specific worries like "why didn't I clean the house more?" to vague concerns like "why don't I have a better job?" or "why haven't I finished my degree yet?" I could go on and on about the way my subconscious terrorizes me. If there is a trip or an event coming up, my anxiety is screaming. There are wonderful things that create noise in my life too; long phone conversations with friends, catchy music, honest discussions at home community, podcasts in the car. Whether the noise is life-taking or life-giving, it's everywhere. It's everyday. It's all the time.
    There are a lot of parts of the Bible I don't understand or that don't resonate with me. But I always, always bathe in the parts where God hushes us. The parts where God tells us he wants to lead us to still waters, away from the crashing waves that have surrounded us. I often feel him pulling me by the hand away from my anxieties and social commitments, but I can't help but glance back over my shoulder at the things left behind.
   When life is loud and my ears are ringing from the internal dialogue I can't turn down, I remember this:

"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." Zephaniah 3:17

He quiets me by his love. His loud singing drowns out the voice of my anxieties and he saves me from myself. This verse was shown to me about a year ago and it has drastically changed the way I experience God.

So today, as I pack up my things to fly home and say good bye to my sister who is moving to Kenya, I'm exchanging my flight anxiety and the overwhelming emotional weight of this trip for the peace and clarity that comes from Jesus' sweet, sweet voice.

Refocusing

    As I was reading about false teachings in 2 Peter this morning, my head jolted up from my Bible, my eyes narrowed and I thought to myself "we have to do something about this!"
    'Doing something' isn't exactly Peter's angle here, but the combination of reading the intense warnings in his first letter and us watching a lot of superhero movies since the Avenger's came out, my mind moved in that direction. Actually, it raced. I felt like my perspective zoomed out and I saw our lives, our marriage actually, from a different view. Satan's view. Matt and I are in an incredibly blessed season of life right now. We are spending our first year of marriage living two blocks from the beach in southern California, we are part of a church plant full of wonderful, loving people who quickly became family and Matt just got a promotion at work that eased our financial stress. We have been spending a lot of time thanking God for where he has us right now. Like any other season of life, we are aware that it is temporary and are trying to enjoy every minute of it.

But there are days when I wonder if this is truly a gift from God. Matt's life is marked with sorrow, suffering and loss. Could God be blessing him with a time of joy, rest and ease? Yes. But this time could easily, easily be an attack from Satan. I don't quickly blame mistakes, hardships or trouble on Satan. I think that we are more than capable of sinning and messing things up on our own. However, I am not naive to his capabilities and the power he holds. Peter warns us that Satan is prowling around like a roaring lion, ready to devour us. And Satan is sneaky. Tricky. The Deceiver. So sometimes I wonder if the last few months are an extended honeymoon or a snare that our feet are caught in. If there's one thing I've noticed since I've moved to California, it's that Satan can use ease and comfort almost more than he can use trials.When life is hard, when sleep is short and emotions are tangled, I pull myself closer to Jesus like a child shielding themselves from the wind on the beach. But when the sun is shining, the work week is short and money is comfortable, it's easier to let go, to play freely. Still near Jesus, still delighting in him, but distracted.

Whether this time is a precious gift from God, the calm before the storm or an evil trick to distract us, the answer is all the same:

"Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil." Ephesians 5:15-16