We can say we believe, but do we? When the way grows rough and the storm looms close do we believe as much as we did when the way was smooth and the skies clear? When it feels like you cannot catch your breath because the waves are crashing with increasing ferocity, do you believe with the same amount of fervor as when the water was as smooth as glass?
This question comes up to haunt me in the night. It hounds me when I am trapped in shame. It challenges my desperation. It ramrods my pride.
Yet, belief was the key to the sick woman and the synagogue ruler. It was their belief that fueled their desperation. It was their belief that prompted their seeking Jesus. Belief fueled their reception of their personal miracle.
Belief.
There were those in the synagogue leader’s and the woman’s life that did not believe that healing could come. Think of the woman: she spent all she had searching for health through the hands of mere men and instead of getting better she grew worse. She was probably written off as a lost cause and there was no one left to believe that she would be restored. Think of Jairus: his daughter was still alive when he fell at Jesus’ feet begging for Jesus to come and heal his daughter, yet, when Jesus finally arrived, Jairus’ daughter was dead. There was no hope because there was no life.
There have been and probably always will be those folks in my life who challenge my belief in my Jesus. There will be those that will tell me to stop bothering Jesus with the request that obviously is dead. I have those kind of latent dreams that I wonder if they will ever happen in this world. But the dreams persist and I hear Jesus tell me, just as he told Jairus: ‘Don’t be afraid, just believe.’
In that statement, Jairus had to choose who he was going to believe. Would he believe his friends and family or would he believe Jesus? Can you imagine the single-mindedness of Jairus as he walked those last, long, short steps to his home? Can you imagine the battle within his heart and what his mind was telling him? His heart is telling him to believe and reverberating through his mind is the news that his daughter is dead. Whose voice will be louder? Jesus or the crowd?
This is the challenge that I face. Will I let Jesus’ voice be louder in my mind and heart or will I let the crowd of doubt and logic drown it?
It wasn’t logical that by just one touch of Jesus’ hem would the woman be healed. It wasn’t logical that a child could be raised from the dead. There is no human logic that could explain or support a healing touch.
But what part of Jesus follows our human logic? I have experienced a peace that makes no sense when I look at the circumstances in my life. I have experienced the courage to take the next step to tear down idols that prevent the people I serve from growing in their worship experience. I have experienced freedom from the approval seeking junkie I once was.
These things are unexplainable outside the power of the touch of Jesus in my life.Will you believe? Will you be desperate? Will you seek out the presence of Jesus in your life? If you can, if you will to, you might experience miracles in your life that defy our human logic as well. And that is a very exciting place to be.
It’s one of those emotions that I try to avoid at all costs. Desperation reeks of humiliation. If I’m desperate for something then I have to embrace/admit the truth that I don’t know everything. I have to accept the fact that I cannot do something on my own. Hmm….shouldn’t I already know this? I like to be good at what I’m good at and leave it at that. But it’s those times when I try something new and have a good experience, which in turn reveals that all of a sudden I am in over my head and I want to back pedal and I find that there is no way back, but only the way through. It’s times like these that I am desperate.
Desperate to not look like the fool. Desperate to impress. Desperate that I won’t. Desperate to not fail. Desperate to know the outcome. Desperate.
It’s a state of mind and heart I try to avoid.
But…..
What if?
What if I have it all wrong? What if desperation is actually a good thing?
What if desperation positions my heart to receive the power of Christ in my life?
Multiple times this week the Lord has brought the story of ‘a dead girl and a sick woman’ to mind. It is found in three out of the four gospels. Matthew 9:18-26, Mark 5:21-42, and Luke 8:40-55 if you would like to read it.
These passages showcase two very different people. We have the woman–‘unclean’, isolated, bereft of physical touch, broke, bearing the burden to announce her uncleanness wherever she went to protect the integrity of other’s cleanness. Then we have the man–synagogue ruler, wealthy, respected, keeper of the rules, and well-known.
Two different people from two very different walks of life yet they shared a desperation. Each was desperate for Jesus.
In their desperation they received. They received life from Jesus.
Sustaining life.
Physical life.
Emotional life.
Spiritual life.
Could it be that what matters most in Kingdom Economy is desperation, not position or lack thereof, but a desperation for God himself?
This is desperation that we should never be ashamed of. This should be desperation that we cultivate. This desperation is life-giving desperation. Desperation for God himself.
I am desperate. I am desperate for God to come into my circumstance. God is attracted to a humble heart and if my heart is desperate then I come to him in humility, eyes open waiting to see him move, arms open to receive whatever he wants me to receive, and finally to have my desperation met.
I come from a line of frugal, do it yourself, ‘where there is a will there is a way’ kind of people. It’s a legacy I appreciate as it has served me well. But like with all good things, there can be an edge to it. An edge that says, ‘I’ve got to take care of this’. In reality there is nothing wrong with having a get it done kind of attitude, but it turns into self-reliance and self-sufficiency God is edged out of the picture and we set ourselves up in an illusion.
We hear of wars and rumors of wars. We hear of Iran testing missiles. We hear of doom about our financial stability. We hear of scandal. We hear of socialism. We hear of conservatism. We hear of racism. We hear of devestation. We hear of things that shake our world such as a diagnosis of defeat, of cancer, or of death.
The illusion I spoke of? It gets revealed when we get hit with news that no amount of will or determination or do it yourselfness can begin to improve.
So what then? Do we try harder? Do we do more? Do we deny the circumstances?
Do we find our trust in God wavering?
It’s situations like these that reveal exactly whether we truly mean the words: ‘I trust in you, God’.
Have I merely given lip service to my God? Do I even understand what it means to trust Him? There was a time in my life that I underlined or circled every time the word trust was used in the book of Psalms. I needed to see just how important trust was in the lives of believers and how important it is to God. I don’t want to give lip service to my God, He means too much to me to do that and yet….sometimes I do.
This is the deal….
Confidence is one of those words whose definition gets infused with our humanness and can be translated into arrogance, or self-reliance, and maintaining control with God as our back-up.
Holy confidence, however, is putting God between us and our circumstance. Let me restate that. Holy confidence is not blindly saying that I believe God will take care of it. Holy confidence is putting God between us and our circumstance and seeing him.
It’s seeing his strength. It’s seeing his goodness. It’s seeing his provision. It’s seeing his righteousness. It’s seeing his power. It’s seeing his healing. It’s seeing his mercy. It’s seeing his freedom.
It seeing all these things first and then seeing your circumstance. I am awed that when I focus on my God’s attributes and care and concern for me, my circumstances seem small because my God seems big. But when I focus on an overwhelming circumstance God seems small. And my trust wavers.
It’s not me and God working out a problem. It’s me behind God. God behind my circumstance. My circumstance cannot overwhelm me because it has to go through God first. I cannot affect the outcome of my circumstance because I have to go through God first. When I step out into self-confidence — two things happen to me. An illusion is created and I take responsibility for bearing the burden of my circumstance.
Holy Confidence is placing God between you and your circumstance. Keep your eyes focused on him. Look at your circumstance through his strength and not your own. Look to him for your every breath and move. He never fails and is faithful.
I take comfort in knowing that you too have a little mess-up in your life. It makes me not feel alone. And yet that solidarity can be a trap. It can fool us into thinking that we are on the same team that must win at being screwed up. It can trick us into the comparison game: ‘Well, I am not as bad as so and so’, or ‘boy, I really screwed up, look at her, she’s messed up too, but is making good, I don’t think I can have the life change she has’.
What if we accepted ourselves as wholly screwed up while at the same time embraced Christ for what he did for us? Which is the removal of our sin, our shame, and our guilt. What if we took the truth of God’s word and wrapped it around ourselves like a mantle and let the truths settle on our shoulders and actually felt the weight truth?
I think I would be wholly changed.
I think that my messed up soul imprint would begin to take on the imprint of God himself and then I must ask myself if I am really as messed up as I believe or is my mess somehow being made beautiful.
Or I am just seeing myself, without the guilt and shame, as God sees me.
Wholly loved.
Wholly messy beautiful.
Can mess be beautiful? I must believe it or I would be crippled by the weight of regret and bitterness and unforgiveness. Every time I have turned over my regrets to my Abba Father, I come away encouraged that there is redemption. Every time I let go of bitterness I smell the fragrance of the rose rather than feel the prick of the thorns. Each time I choose forgiveness I am reminded of my own forgiveness.
Every time I offer my mess-up soul to him, I receive grace in return and that is wholly beautiful.
Receive grace. Will you offer your messed-up self to him and open your arms to receive his grace? Grace that changes us into a new kind of beautiful we cannot even begin to imagine. Grace that reveals truth. Truth that reveals grace.
Have you ever felt like you are standing with your hand waving in the air, ‘pick me, pick me?’ Maybe as adults we don’t really do that but I think we all have that desire to be picked. Chosen. We ask: Pick me for the job. Pick me because I have something valuable to offer. And sometimes it seems that everyone else is getting ‘picked’ except for you.
I can remember those school play yard games where two kids were picked as ‘captains’ for a rousing game of dodgeball and then proceeded to pick team members. I hated those days.
I was usually the last of the kids picked. It could be because I hated the thought of throwing a ball– hard!–on purpose at someone and having it thrown–hard!–at me. Ouch!
It’s not that I didn’t try at athletics. In middle school I tried track, basketball, and volleyball. I discovered I didn’t like running. Ugh. And I really didn’t like having a ball flying through the air at me. That ball always seemed to connect with my nose as evidenced by a permanent black and blue mark across the bridge of my nose that shows up when I am exhausted. I know, I know…my hands are for catching the ball, not my face.
But really? I think it was those traumatizing days of school yard dodge ball that made me hate trying to catch a ball or toss one over the net. Suffice it to say–I was not in the first round pick or the second or the third, but dead last. I tried not to let it hurt, I mean I completely understand why I wasn’t picked first, but being last? over and over? It felt like rejection to me. I was in a different elementary school every year, and every year became a year I could ‘start over’, but the outcome was the same: ‘last pick’.
It’s funny how we carry childhood wounds and hurts into our adult lives, some of those wounds being pretty obvious, but the innocuous ones, the ones that are easy to hide beneath bravado and arrogance and pride and independence, those are the ones that affect our lives in a subtle, but significant way.
One of the ways this epidemic of being picked last in is evidenced in the difficulty in accepting the truth that I am chosen by God–because he wants me not because he has to.
‘For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight,’ Ephesians 1:4. How about if we replace the pronoun ‘us’ with our name? What if we read it like this: ‘For he chose Jessica in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight’. Try reading it with your name in place of the ‘us’. What is your reaction? When I first allowed that truth to be revealed to me, I followed it with a ‘but…’.
But as I go deeper with God, this truth becomes something I cannot ‘but’ away, but need to face head on and decide if I am going to embrace this truth that God chose me, long before I raised my arm, waving, ‘pick me, pick me’. For this truth to become embraceable I need to lay aside the identity of ‘last pick’ and decide that God’s opinion is ultimately the most important one there is to cling to. He calls me chosen.
He picked me. He picked you. Long ago. Before we even got to the playground of life we were ‘picked’. Chosen. That’s part of your identity. That’s part of mine. That’s one of the words we should hear when we look into that mirror. Will you open your ears to hear that truth or are you stuck following it with a ‘but…’.
Friends, I pray that you will embrace ‘chosen’ as part of your identity and if embracing chosen is an area where you are strong in, find someone to encourage in that truth. Tell them God chooses them. Tell them that God picks them first. I’ll go first….
You are picked! By our loving, loving God. In fact he says:
