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. 

 

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

Heaven

When I imagine heaven, I imagine white, upper class adults worshiping God freely and eternally. My Americanized and unintentionally arrogant mind doesn't picture believers of all ages, sizes, races or demographics.

I think of the doctors, classmates, friends, teachers or family members in my life that I know will be there one day. I don't think of the orphaned children my sister ministers to in Kenya. I don't think of the marginalized people of Ventura county picking strawberries in the field. I don't think of the people in Muslim countries losing their lives for choosing the gospel. I just don't.

But today, singing and praising God outside the Rescue Mission in Oxnard, California with the members of "Church in the Alley", my image of heaven expanded. The people I was surrounded by, some homeless, some not, have experienced God's love so differently than I have. They know God's provision more intimately, ironically. It doesn't matter what I imagine heaven to be like. The forgotten, the marginalized and the suffering "are blessed, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven".

My life revolves around a God who favors the poor in spirit, and is unimaginably gracious with me when I don't.

FYI

For those interested, I'm keeping a family blog here to keep people clued in on my life with Matt.

I'll still use this blog as an over-share of all my inner thoughts, don't worry.

My Poor Husband.

I recently read a blog entry posted by someone who refers to her husband as Poor Kyle. This cracked me up, mostly because I refer to Matt in my head as My Poor Husband most of the time. My Poor Husband who waits patiently at the door for me while I rush around; grabbing last minute things on my way out the door, partially brushing my teeth, partially putting on my jacket. My Poor Husband who is often at the mercy of my navigation skills when we are finding some place that "I just saw and know exactly where it is". My Poor Husband who, as you can read here, probably won't experience a relaxing flight anytime soon. My Poor Husband who is subjected to constant dance parties in our kitchen. (No apologizes on that last one. My dance moves are sweet.)

And My Poor Husband, who is being buried alive by unfinished craft projects and supplies. Downsizing to a smaller home without a craft room or desk left little place for storage. So right now there are misplaced glue sticks, crochet hooks, yarn, fabric and unreasonable amounts of paper stuffed, scattered and stacked all over our house. I don't exactly qualify as an "artist" who can live in chaos and disorganization all in the name of creation and art. I'm just messy. I love to create. I love to make cards. I love handcrafting gifts for friends. I love redecorating our home. I love using Etsy as a way to support my hobby.

Matt has learned to understand this. He has learned that I need a craft budget. He patiently steps over half-finished projects scattered all over our living room. He doesn't complain if we stop by the craft store to use an expiring coupon. He gives me the most hilarious look when I come home with some piece of junk I insist I "have an idea for".

"Husbands, live with your wives in a considerate way." 1 Peter 3:7

He is immensely considerate of my creativity and interests and allows our home to be a venue for them. I realize that my blog is slowly evolving into a list of reasons I love Matt, but we're newly weds. I can't help it. The more I live alongside him, the more I realize what an understanding and patient roommate I have. It helps me stop and take the time to learn how I can be considerate of him.

Unlearn the gospel.

"For I would have you know, brothers, that the gospel that was preached by me is not man's gospel. For I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ." Galatians 2

I desire Paul's perspective and experience.

I was taught the gospel. In the church, in private school, in leadership training and through ministry opportunities. This can prevent me from truly & consistently experiencing it. At one point I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ, but too often my Biblical education causes me to slip into religion.

I don't let the gospel change my marriage, work ethic, attitude, mood, friendships or time. It becomes something that is past tense. "I learned the gospel. I was taught it. It changed me."

I want to keep learning, I want Jesus to keep teaching me and I want to always be changing.

Ethics Ain't Cheap

Relevant Magazine is one of the many great things Matt has introduced me to. I had mostly listened to their podcasts, but just recently I started skimming their website when I'm procrastinating getting out of bed. Their articles can be pretty hit or miss for me, but when they're good, they're good. I found this one off my friend Jenn's blog and I'm excited to share it:

Fair Trade Clothes Are Too Pricey

As much as I thrift store shop, browse garage sales and restore old things, I also shop at H&M, Target and many other mass producing, unethical places. This article does a great job drawing attention to a well-known, yet incredibly ignored, crisis.

I can get incredibly over-whelmed when I start chalking up all the things to avoid, change or take out in my life. This world is broken. I'm thankful for the hope I have in Jesus coming back & righting every wrong.

Until then, I will keep this article in mind the next time I'm being buried alive in the clearance section of Old Navy.

Or perhaps I am the toddler.

After fifteen minutes or so of arguing with a 2 year old about saying please when she asks me for milk, I realized that my stubbornness might be a valuable parenting tool.

There I stood, limbs akimbo, with a sippy cup balanced against my hip. There she stood, hands balled up into a fist with a frustrated scowl across her face.

Following through with her takes up half of our day sometimes (we once spent an hour picking up a 15 piece puzzle), but I know that it's important. I want her to know if I say something, I mean it. As much as I want that to come across as me being a patient and loving care giver, it's really because I'm stubborn.

Stubbornness has actually been the root of a lot of things in my life. It's the only reason I joined the swim team in high school. Because my mother wondered out loud if I'd be able to do it. (In her defense, we are a very unathletic family) It's really the only reason my husband comes home to dinner every night. Because everyone cracks jokes that my cook-up-a-storm husband married a girl that can hardly boil water (in their defense, no one brings it up more than I do). It's why I am eternally determined to carry everything in one trip, which results in ripped grocery bags or dropped luggage.

As motivating as my stubbornness can be, it is quite toxic to my ability to obey. To do things that I'm asked or expected to do. I love doing extra housework for the woman I work for because it serves her, but I cringe at the thought of dinner dishes each night. I ignore the disgusting state of my bathroom but enjoy cleaning my sister's bathroom for her. I love doing Matt's laundry and delegated myself that chore, but if he tactfully hints that it's piling up, I battle a defiant attitude through three loads of wash. I could sit and read all day but if I'm assigned to read something, every turning page is a power struggle.

And who am I struggling against? Ultimately, God. Sticking it to The Man does nothing but separate me from behaving like Jesus would. Being a good employee, a loving sister & thoughtful wife are attributes of a godly person, but are meaningless when coexisting with a rebellious attitude. These actions don't chalk up to a Proverbs 31:30 woman, but in fact align me with Jacob. Wrestling with God and getting hurt along the way.

There is always a pot of rebellion simmering in the depths of my soul, frequently erupting into sinful & hateful behavior. Never mind the fact that I've boosted my culinary skills and can swim a mean freestyle, I want to be obedient, constantly submitting to God the way that Jesus does.

You can't escape it.

As much as I'd like to blame the entertainment industry for sabotaging people's perception of love & relationships, this isn't exactly helping either:

"Jacob loved Rachel. And he said 'I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel'. Laban said, 'It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me.' So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her." Genesis 29:18-20

Then, after he was deceived into being given Leah as his wife instead of Rachel (a scandal among many in the Old Testament) he served her father for another seven years to be able to marry her.


So go ahead, ladies, finish your Nicholas Sparks book.

Southern Hospitality.

One of the many things I love about my husband is that he is southern. Although he somehow walked away from a life born & raised in rural Alabama without an accent, his southern traits still make an appearance in our marriage. Like how he "can't find his tobbogon".
"Your sled?"
"No. My beanie."

Something that's been really obvious is the difference in our pace of life. This sticks out to me anytime I'm in the south with him. People stop in their tracks for a conversation if you ask how they are instead of throwing out an answer in passing. Small talk doesn't exist; it's all lengthy conversation. Meals are longer. MUCH longer.

Matt & I were invited over to his pastor's house for lunch during one of our visits out there. We arrived pretty early in the afternoon and ate a huge, delicious slow cooked meal. Biscuits from scratch, vegetables from the garden and beef stew were all involved. And a huge pitcher of iced sweet tea, obviously. Hours went by. Eventually we were sipping coffee and enjoying dessert in the living room. I remember glancing around to find a clock. What day is it? How long have we been here? Are we imposing on these polite people? I couldn't believe how long we had stretched out this lunch date. I loved being in their warm home. The conversation was wonderful and would be hard to recreate. It's not that I wasn't enjoying our time there, cultural relativism just isn't a strength of mine. I'm use to breezing through coffee dates and double booking my nights to ensure that I maximize my social life and get small amounts of time with everyone I love. My attention span is greatly stretched when we're in the south.

In California, Matt and I both share the frustration of a rushed social atmosphere. Born and raised on the west coast, I still feel left behind in the quick, California culture. Community in the church can be a blur down here. It has seemed like Biblical values are sacrificed in order to keep up with the fast-paced lifestyle. We were once invited to someone's home for dinner with some other couples and we were in and out of our car within 45 minutes. We find ourselves tackling people to get in face time with them that doesn't involve an iPhone.

It has ignited some good conversation among us about what we value and how we're going to hold to that while we're in ministry down here. I'm thankful for Matt's southern hospitality, culinary skills and desire to share community over a meal. It has encouraged me to slow down and learn social patience. Lately I feel more inclined to have people over for dinner instead of meeting for coffee. (We'll see how I'll hold up the next time we're in Alabama..)

I've been really encouraged by the book A Meal With Jesus by Tim Hester. This paragraph stuck out to me:

                  "Hospitality involves welcoming, creating space, listening, paying attention and providing. Meals slow things down. Some of us don't like that. We like to get things done. But meals force you to be people oriented instead of task oriented. Sharing a meal is not the only way to build relationships, but is number one on the list."

The author does a great job urging us to do ministry like Jesus did; fostering grace and creating community through meals. The book is a quick and easy read, packed with stories from Scripture about hospitality. I'd recommend it to anyone interested in being challenged on our contemporary understanding of community.

Confession:

This morning I told myself I needed more spiritual discipline in my life.
More fasting. More praying. More reading. More listening.
Less talking, less watching & less eating. "I'll fast from sugar" I heard myself suggest. (Myself tends to be overly ambitious in the morning, leaving my afternoon persona to be overwhelmed.)

This evening, the sight of me eating dessert rivaled the chocolate cake scene in the movie Matilda. (For the record, it was a s'mores bake and I've never had anything more delicious in my life. Thank you Pinterest.)

Clearly, the need for spiritual discipline (let's just go ahead and use the term "self-control") is more glaringly obvious than it was a mere 14 hours ago.

Good books & generous friends.

My sweet friend Chelsea mailed these books to me this week as a gift. I've never heard of them but I'm excited to crack them open this weekend and see what she's so excited about. 

More.

Today I am struck by Galatians 1:24

"And they glorified God because of me."

The fact that the gospel was powerful enough to soften Saul's heart (read the story here) and he was now preaching to the people he once persecuted resulted in them glorifying God.


I love that feeling.
The moment where your heart feels cloaked in joy
and every region of your soul praises God.

It's a unique, yet hopefully reoccurring, moment when you see that God has saved the seemingly unsaveable.

I can't believe I referenced that.

I'm reading through Galatians this week and only made it a few verses in when I was stopped by a particularly compelling verse.

Galatians 1:8 "But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed."

The other times I have come across this verse, my mind immediately thinks of the Mormon church. This is what their faith is based on; an angel coming down and sharing an additional gospel to man. If it offends you that my mind makes that connection, you can read more about their beliefs on mormon.org. (Or watch the South Park episode that makes a less reliable, yet highly entertaining and informative song on Mormon beliefs. If that offends you, you are justified. It's South Park.)

But this time, I felt a more personal conviction from the verse. I noted that Paul writes "but even if we" in his warning. Who's we? Maybe pastors. Probably mentors. People with spiritual authority in my life. Even if they proclaim a gospel that contradicts Scripture or adds on to it, let them be accursed. This got me thinking.

Do I filter everything my pastors say through the word of God?
And not just the belief statement typed up on the website, but what they preach. How they live their life. What they proclaim, how they describe gospel-centrality. If they lead their church like Jesus led his people. Or even the things I want to hear about myself. Whether it's fine if I do this or that. Go here or there.


Paul is wise (shocking, right?) to encourage his churches to believe in God, not him. This verse is a great reminder for me to take heed and listen for spiritual leaders to say things like "these are God's words, not mine" or "check your Bible if you disagree". The greatest and most Biblical leaders in my life have been the ones who are constantly discrediting themselves.


And lastly, this verse in Galatians calls me to know the gospel in order to determine what's authentic.

Celebrate.

Today would have been my friend Michael's 23 birthday. I took some time today to celebrate his life and reflect on the things I loved about him.

In the 7th grade, Michael wrote me a note with Romans 8:28 scribbled on it reminding me that "God works for the good of those who love him". It's still one of my favorite verses, but quite honestly mostly because I imagine it in his scribbled, bold handwriting.




I miss Michael often and am thankful when he appears in my dreams, happy & healthy.

Podcasts.

I'm missing my church family at Ekklesia this week. Wesley Towne brings the word to a room like no one else I've encountered.
You can listen to his sermons online here.

And if you have the time or interest, be praying for their leadership! They are doing a great job spreading the gospel to the city of Eugene so I'm sure Satan is doing a great job pestering them. 

We'll come back to it.

I've been thinking a lot about why God asked Abraham to kill his son Isaac on the alter. {If you aren't familiar with the story, you can read it here.} 

I think that God is worth obeying and trusting.
And I know that he gives and he takes away.
I'm not sure what this story says about him though. Or what he wants me to learn from it.

God is testing Abraham, and when he passes the test correctly he gets rewarded.

I'm uncomfortable with that. For a lot of reasons.
And if anything, this story reveals the great character of Abraham. God asked him to do something really hard and terrifying and he obeyed him. I haven't formed an opinion on what this says about God's character. Or at least one that I'm comfortable typing out for the internet to read.

Maybe I'll tuck this back into my brain for right now and file it away under "misunderstanding sovereignty" and "the Old Testament is fascinating".