Category Archives: friendship

come together

Posted on by September 16, 2021

I was in the Old Testament, on the couch, and almost in a coma. Or, pretend we’re playing Clue: It was Mrs. Guerra, in the library, with the book of Leviticus. Out cold.

I had read this paragraph four times and still had no idea what it was about. One of those big, vague sounding words was repeated throughout it, and my eyes just glazed right over.

come together: how the church leads the culture

It was this one: Convocation.

So I finally looked it up, and the first entry was one of those super helpful ones that said “the act of convoking.”

Huh. Thanks a lot. If I knew what convoking was, I wouldn’t need you, Google.

Scrolling a little further, I found something better: “An assembly of persons called together for a meeting.” That made more sense. And for bonus points, it said it’s from the Latin word “convocare” which means to call or come together.

Like so:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel and say to them, These are the appointed feasts of the Lord that you shall proclaim as holy convocations; they are my appointed feasts.

– Leviticus 23:1-2, ESV

I ran this all by Vin, who was next to me on the couch reading about the Free Burma Rangers in Mosul. He, too, was doing research.

“So, it’s an Entmoot,” he summarized.

Exactly. They could’ve just said that in the first place. (Take note, Google.)

Formally, a convocation is a special thing – a ceremony, or some event of special recognition. In my church (and maybe yours) we don’t hear this word hardly ever. But informally, in practice, we do it every week. Sometimes several times a week.

We come together.

Unless, suddenly, we’re told not to.

And at first, okay, that seemed like a good idea – let’s step back and see what this pandemic is really about, while the Powers That Be get things figured out.

But we’re past that. This is months later, when the Powers That Be have manipulated data and shown that this is no longer about a pandemic – pandemics, of course, not generally having a 99.99 survival rate and being less of a threat than the seasonal flu.

No, this is not about a pandemic. This is about a test. Some places are passing it, and others are failing.

I said this before on social media, but for the record I’ll put it here on my own site.

With my mom voice, and all my love:

The Church needs to stop letting the government and media lead the culture in fear, and step up to take its place to lead the culture in victory.

We don’t follow the culture, we follow Jesus. He’s the one calling the shots.

We lead the culture, not the other way around. If we do not take responsibility for our calling, others will be (and have been) happy to step in and take it for us.

History belongs to those who pray. Victory belongs to the bold who obey.

We do not take our cues from the culture — we are meant to take a stand. We are the light on a hill. We need to act like it.

I’ve heard Christians condemn other Christians for calling this “persecution” – because if you compare this to what they call “real” persecution experienced all over the world, like what the Free Burma Rangers see, it doesn’t even come close.

And, okay. That’s true.

But what is also true is that in many places, this is how that started.

What do you think comes after prohibitive restrictions on gatherings, worship, and other church activity? If we don’t know history, we are condemned to repeat it.

Pretty early on, a church in California was threatened with jail time for holding services. Read it here. These threats have nothing to do with health, they are completely about intimidation – and they are absolutely illegal and unconstitutional.

And if that reminds you of someone else who likes to use powerless intimidation to see what he can get away with, that’s no coincidence.

Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.

– Revelation 12:7-9

[Jesus] disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.

– Colossians 2:15

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.

– 1 Peter 5:8-9

The churches who are leading will prioritize their mission over government mandates. We do not ask permission to meet. A quick read through the US Constitution – and it’s less than 20 pages, so there’s no excuse to not know it – will show you that we have every right to come together.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

– The First Amendment in the US Constitution

The Church leads by meeting. Not by going with the flow, waiting for the next mandate, and then creating alternative ways to congregate without rocking the boat. The Church leads by following Jesus, not by following the government.

 When the large crowd of the Jews learned that Jesus was there, they came, not only on account of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests made plans to put Lazarus to death as well, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.

– John 12:9-11

That’s the kind of an impact we should have. Our life and vitality should be a threat to those who want to suppress the Kingdom, and an attraction to those who want to be a part of it. That’s how we lead a culture toward healing and redemption.

But others are still waiting for permission, instead of following their commission.

Nevertheless, many even of the authorities believed in him, but for fear of the Pharisees they did not confess it, so that they would not be put out of the synagogue; for they loved the glory that comes from man more than the glory that comes from God.

– John 12:42-43

And this is the real test: We can lead by following Jesus and coming together, or we can pretend to lead by following dictates and waiting for the next shoe to drop.

We can lead by doing our research and standing firm, or we can keep thinking Oh, this isn’t real persecution, while forgetting that the difference between this and what the Free Burma Rangers are seeing is only a matter of a few more steps.

Don’t believe me? Look at Portland. Look at other big cities. Look at Kenosha, Wisconsin.

This isn’t about a pandemic, but most of you already know that. This is about a culture at war – greatly because it’s also about a Church who has, in many places, capitulated.

But this is still the time for holy convocation. For an Entmoot. For gathering, and connecting, and praying, and teaching. For learning and growing and sharing.

And when the Church does that, it impacts the government, and the nation, and culture at large. And that is how it should go – not the other way around.

work that God sees: for mamas in the midst of the overwhelm

Posted on by October 13, 2022

Finn is randomly stitching on a piece of cross-stitch fabric. It’s an old project that Cham started when she was about his age, and it has waited for years in the yarn cabinet’s drawer for an enthusiastic preschooler to pick it up again. It’s a beautiful mess – scrap threads, random colors, no pattern to follow. Just lots and lots of tiny stitches.

work that God sees: a series for mamas in the midst of the overwhelm

And after many attempts, I’m pleased to announce we’ve finally achieved that sweet spot every crafty mama longs for: He can now thread the needle himself, instead of me needing to do it for him every 1.5 stitches.

He’s worked steadily for about five minutes with a long off-white thread, and then he comes closer to me.

“Can you help me wif bein’ fast?”

He chose that pale off-white color and he can’t see the work he’s doing or the progress he’s making. Stitching is slow work for most of us; it runs like cold molasses for a four-year-old.

“There’s no fast, buddy. This isn’t a fast project. You just keep going.” Slow is fast, when compared to doing nothing.

Two more stitches and he’s done – finis, he can’t take it anymore, stick a fork in him – and I teach him how to pin the needle in the corner of the fabric so it’s ready for him next time. And he’s off, no cape required, to some other little boy adventure that probably requires way less sitting still and way more dirt.

I don’t blame him. I have been him so often, with the almost-invisible thread and tiny stitches, not seeing progress and wondering if all the work I was doing was going somewhere. Because that’s what mothering is – a million, trillion, bazillion tiny stitches, one at a time.

But God sees every one of them.

Every day is a new scrap of thread – and our baby is teething, which means he’s not sleeping, which means we’re also not sleeping, and the days run like cold molasses for exhausted parents and all their frayed edges, and there have been many days when I wanted to quit early. Finis, stick a fork in me, I can’t take it anymore.

And God sees.

And we don’t have to be reminded that the days are slow but the years are fast, because we are the irrational ones who ask God if He can “help us wif bein’ fast” as we go through the monotony and the madness of some of these days while also asking Him to stop time on other days. We know it’s not a fair request but for crying out loud, our kids are growing up and learning to thread their own needle and our oldest is living on his own already, and I haven’t seen his face in forever.

But God sees.

He sees all these days and efforts and stumbling and trying again. He sees the results we can’t imagine. And He reminds us that we are capable, and we are allied. We are growing, we are steadfast, we are resilient. And we are seen. And we might be something else, but He hasn’t told me what yet…so that’s what we’re sticking with for now.

work that God sees: new series

So we’re launching this new book that was His idea – if it were mine, it would’ve been way more ridiculous, probably involving countless petitions about random color palettes for cover templates and everything…oh, wait…

Anyway, it is packed full of candid encouragement for the mom who has no time for anymore nonsense – no sugar-coating, no la-la rainbows – just real truth to hold onto in the midst of the overwhelm, reminding you who you are:

Capable. Allied. Growing. Steadfast. Resilient.

Seen.

Moms, you are doing the work that God sees. And you were made for this.

in the fog: what we do when we can’t see where we’re going

Posted on by December 20, 2023

Kavanagh napping. Finn playing sweetly, but he’s loud enough to trigger neighborhood car alarms. Vin and I bossing him. Baby waking up after a refreshing 90-second power nap. Repeat until dinnertime.

And this, at least, has not changed in eighteen years of parenting – only then, it was two different kids who are both now in high school, and we are now old…er. Older. Oldish? Whatever. You get it.

in the fog: what we do when we can't see where we're going

It is a night for an easy dinner after a day of not getting nearly enough done and cringing from loud noises. Leftover pasta, leftover salad; sauté some broccoli to go over the top and give myself something to be proud of. Because somedays feel like nothing to be proud of.

Not enough time for everyone and everything. Heaviness in the chest. A sense of swelling behind the eyes that hints at tears, but no thank you, we don’t want that, we don’t have time for that. In this season, ain’t nobody got time for that.

I know what it is. It feels a little like PMS but it isn’t – it’s spiritual attack threatening to spiral into depression, the barrage of lies that shout failure from the rooftops in every area. Loud noises on the outside spike against the loud thoughts inside. The body hurts, the mind and spirit hurt.

And I can be a slow learner, but now I know the drill when it hits: Do the small things, the necessary things that fight the lies and the feelings and the oversensitive body processes.

Drink a glass of water. Take a dose of vitamin D. Rebuke the lie.

And find something easy to clean.

People sometimes seem surprised at how (relatively) clean our house is in spite of seven kids living here, and usually the credit goes to regular chores and a highly efficient husband. But every once in a while it’s something else entirely.

Every once in a while, the house is clean because the mama almost lost her ever-loving mind but narrowly escaped by taking it out on the kitchen.

Because order on the outside helps bring order to the inside.

And wiping down counters is easy, so much easier than the stressful intangibles that have no end. Clean counters help bring sanity and white space.

I cannot clean everything. Just like I cannot do everything. But I can clean this counter in front of me, and see the difference.

In so many areas, we can believe and hope and trust that what we do matters, but we cannot see it yet and the enemy takes advantage of that.

So doing something that we can see is important. It becomes prayer and prophecy; we see movement and change and impact. A clean counter can represent so much more as we pray.

The edge of the sink is covered in coffee grounds and water droplets. One wipe, and it’s clean. Perfect. Rinse the sponge. Done.

There’s a clear before-and-after here, unlike most of the other work with words, and situations, and people. And my own attitude.

For many of us it’s a season of refining, pressing further than we thought we could go, pushing through pain, taking maturity to the next level. And it hurts, like a muscle being strengthened.

We are refining character and relationships, habits, skills, and communication, for a great plan ahead that we cannot see, praying for rain but not yet seeing the cloud the size of a hand.

He sees what we cannot see – and sometimes, often, He lets us see these things for each other.

A close friend of ours had a surprise party last week. She was blindfolded; she didn’t know where she was going, or when she would arrive. But we knew, and we couldn’t wait for her to get there.

…As Christians, we will always live in tension between what we understand and what remains a mystery….We cannot afford to live only in what we understand because then we don’t grow or progress anymore; we just travel the same familiar roads we have traveled all of our Christian life. It is important that we expose ourselves to impossibilities that force us to have questions that we cannot answer.

– Bill Johnson, The Supernatural Power of a Transformed Mind

In the deep searching, trusting God when it feels like you have no choice but to trust Him (and is that really trust at all?) we’re pressed into voicing those gut-honest questions – the ones He’s not afraid of, but that we’re usually afraid to ask.

These questions lay us open, vulnerable to legalistic blind spots in our past, and the enemy hisses things like, If you really trusted God, you wouldn’t feel that way/need to ask that question/feel so uncertain. We think that Really Good Christians are supposed to find some kind of bliss in the pressure of not knowing, but that’s only because the enemy is liar.

Fire tests the purity of silver and gold, but the LORD tests the heart.

– Proverbs 17:3, NLT

God knows these seasons are not easy. He’s not mad at us for feeling the fire and asking the hard questions.

He’s not mad at us when we ask repeatedly for the cloud the size of a hand.

He’s right there with the truth – He knows the destination, and these questions are the sweet spot, the brave willingness to stare fears in the face and name them aloud, willing to surrender those fears to Him.

Here’s the root of it: If it really is that bad and our fears come to pass, will we still trust Him? Will we still talk to Him?

Of course we will. There is no one left. He is the only one who knows how to take us where we’re supposed to be going. Regardless of what the weather or the circumstances look like, He is rubbing His hands in anticipation, leaning forward, telling us, Just wait, you’re going to love this. I can’t wait to show you where you’re going.

Those who fear You shall see me and rejoice, because I have hoped in Your word.

– Psalm 119:74

And these curveballs, these situations of unknowing, and what-in-the-world-are-You-doing, prove that surrender is beautiful, and powerful, and victorious, and He knows what we want better than we do. He’s not afraid to give it to us, even when we’re afraid to ask for it or take it.

The unknowing and waiting are a lot like writing. Here too, we usually do not know where we are going:

At its best, the sensation of writing is that of any unmerited grace. It is handed to you, but only if you look for it. You search, you break your heart, your back, your brain, and then – and only then – it is handed to you. From the corner of your eye you see motion. Something is moving through the air and headed your way.

….You find and finger a phrase at a time; you lay it down cautiously, as if with tongs, and wait suspended until the next one finds you: Ah yes, then this; and yes, praise be, then this.

– Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

Bread crumbs from lunch cover the island. Scoop them into my hand, throw them off the deck for the birds, or maybe the mice, but with four cats I’m not worried. Easy, done. Moving on.

It’s hard to see outside of ourselves from the chaos and stress – it presses in, closing in on us just like the fog around the windows, obscuring mountains, neighbors, and the river of traffic going up and down the highway.

We ask for a cloud the size of a hand, and in perfect time He sends the fog rolling in, pressing us into questions and answers and growth we could not or would not have pursued otherwise. And sometimes in our own density, we don’t recognize that that, too, is an answer.

________________________

This is an excerpt from Work That God Sees .