Category Archives: peace

comfort & joy: finding our identity in the Word who became flesh

Posted on by December 11, 2024

Last week I finished reading the New Testament again, and turned back to Matthew. And I might as well confess to you that my first thought was, Oh, goody. Seventeen verses of genealogy. Go ahead and judge me.

comfort and joy: finding our identity in the Word who became flesh

I happened to be sipping bone broth at the time, which is almost as much fun as reading Abraham was the father of Isaac…and Isaac the father of Jacob, and a few dozen more generations. But I needed to do it; I’ve dealt with postpartum eczema after our last four or five babies, and my right hand in particular is fairly gruesome. My handwriting is worse than normal, I have a hard time opening things (or turning doorknobs), and some days even typing hurts. It keeps me up at night. But bone broth helps, so…drinks it, we does.

…And Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse…

– Matthew 1:5

The verses also go in and do their own form of healing and restructuring. Like the bone broth, they are nutrient-dense regardless of appeal, going inside and bringing healing in increments. The broth boosts immune systems and digestive systems, and you could sorta say the same thing for reading the Bible, as it builds our spiritual protection and helps us process daily life in the healthiest of ways.

Whether we understand it all or not, whether we know we need healing or not, it goes in and it changes us.

…And Jesse the father of David the king.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah…

– Matthew 1:6, ESV

It takes no time at all to read seventeen verses of genealogy – less time than it takes to drink the mug of bone broth, sigh – and then suddenly I’m right in the middle of the season and confronted with the birth of Jesus, though I didn’t plan it that way at all.

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.

– Matthew 1:18, ESV

Now friends, if you’ve never read the Christmas story – the real one, not the cartoon special, the Hallmark movie, or the VeggieTale – it’s well worth the four minutes of your life it will take to do so. In Matthew it’s from here to here, just eight verses. Luke’s account is more detailed, from here to here, roughly 75 verses.

In those same four minutes, you could mindlessly scroll social media for all the cat memes, store ads, and political spin you can stomach…or you could tuck the original account of the birth of Jesus into your soul and let it do its work. Give it four minutes. The internet will still be there when you’re done, and you’ll begin to see it and everything else with new strength and perspective.

You might not notice the change at first. But like that bone broth, the Word will go in and make you more like the person you were made to be.

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
    For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
    and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
    from generation to generation.

– Luke 1:46-50, ESV

When we don’t know someone, our mind and thoughts exaggerate them into caricatures. They are all this, or all that; the little we know isn’t enough for a full picture so we fill in the blanks with assumptions. They become the cartoon version of the real thing. Without abiding and being in the Word, we’re in danger of doing the same thing with God, mistaking Him for all sharp lines, zigzags, and exaggerated curves.

But we do the same thing to ourselves, too. Sometimes we take on our pain, or our circumstances, or some other imbalance as our identity, though we were never meant to.

I’ve been talking (and writing) a lot lately on how we act out of our identity:
When we know who we are, we act like it – and this
is why we need to know who (and Who) we’re dealing with. Because when we don’t, we act out in sharp lines, zigzags, and exaggerated curves. And we were never meant to have such inflammation, imbalance, and pain.

Research has shown that once a person believes in a particular aspect of their identity, they are more likely to act in alignment with that belief….

After all, when your behavior and your identity are fully aligned, you are no longer pursuing behavior change. You are simply acting like the type of person you already believe yourself to be.

– James Clear, Atomic Habits (p. 34-35)

When we understand who God is, and who He made us to be, we will act like it. The only way to be comfortable in our own skin is to get to know the One who designed it.

He knows our hearts better than we do. And that means that He knows how we are better than we give ourselves credit for, and also the ways we are worse than we realize.

He knows the things we don’t take credit for, but should.

He also knows the things we don’t take responsibility for, but should.

There are areas in our lives where we are doing better than we think we are – but there are other areas we’re blind to that need correction and alignment. Our minds are constantly renewed through abiding with Him.

God rest you merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay;
Remember, Christ, our Saviour
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan’s power
When we were gone astray…
O tidings of comfort and joy.

It’s one of the oldest carols, dating back to at least the 16th century. There’s no known author to credit. And even though we sing it all season long, the title really doesn’t make any sense – unless we understand what the word “rest” means in context.

In the 16th century, this usage of rest meant to keep, cause to continue, to remain. Or, as we say, abide.

And, because punctuation matters (high five to my nerdy friends), note that the comma is after the word “merry” and not before it. Literally, the message is along the lines of “God keep you merry, friends” or “God abides with you for joy, friends.”

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. 

– John 1:14, ESV

The true story brings down our inflammation and offenses, brings balance to systems and habits that are off kilter. It renews us at a cellular level, giving us strength to reject the things He knows will harm us and the maturity to make healthier choices, for our own comfort and joy.

He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David,and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.

– Luke 1:32-33, ESV

The Word goes in and changes us. It – more accurately, He – makes us more like the way we are supposed to be:

Whole. Free. Comfortable in our own skin. Because our joy is at stake.

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.

dealing with the mess

Posted on by August 17, 2022

A week ago, a large bag of wooden clothespins showed up on my desk and it’s been squatting there ever since. And it wouldn’t be a big deal except someone opened the bag, which means that over the last several days the contents gradually hemorrhaged everywhere. A variety pack – dozens of clothespins, all different sizes, decorating the surface of my desk.

The clothespins need to go into a big jar, but all of the jars are downstairs in the kitchen, and why they didn’t stop there first to deposit themselves properly is beyond me. Why I can’t remember to take them back downstairs to the kitchen during any of my daily 138 trips up and down the stairs is also beyond me.

dealing with the mess: what we do, what God does, and what He can't do for us

I do love having a clean desk. But aside from moving everything to the floor (my normal method of cleaning it in a hurry) I have yet to figure out how to keep it that way.

The desk is smothered under stacks of books as I type this: notebooks, school books, research books, books I’m reading. Keeping all these company are pens, sippy cups, and other detritus constantly trafficked in and out of the office, aside from the aforementioned clothespins sprinkled everywhere. Also, there’s a half-emptied basket destined to become yarn storage that I’m planning to move to the bookshelf, which will give me more surface area on the desk. But that will have to wait, because it’s currently storing Knightley, instead.

dealing with the mess: Knightley in a basket

And just to be clear, when I say “stacks of books,” the word stacks should be interpreted loosely. Very loosely. As in, some books truly are placed on top of each other in a (mostly) congruent, vertical direction. But others are…um…just overlapping, sort of like a giant, bloated, bookish version of Jenga.

It’s not just my mess – you heard me mention the sippy cup, right? – but it is my mess to take care of. No one can clean it for me. Even if they wanted to, I have to do it myself. God help them if they try; hell hath no fury like a writer-mama (or wife) who can’t find the stack of books she needs to pull citations from that took her half a day to round up from all over the house in the first place.

Of course, it would help if people would stop spewing their mess in my space. I have my own junk to deal with, but all we sinners share the love, and we have a tendency to give each other more to forgive and clean up. We all add to each other’s messes.

Oh, wait – I was talking about physical messes. Not the other kind, when we are hurting and we hurt others, and the mess goes everywhere, and it’s so much harder to clean up than a hundred scattered clothespins.

May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.

– 2 Peter 1:2, ESV

Finn is on the floor by my feet, putting together a puzzle. He knows he can play up here while I’m working as long as he’s quiet. And our versions of quiet are two different things, but normally he’s fine.

And usually Knightley is in here, and normally she’s fine too, except when she walks across the laptop and makes me bless the inventor of the Undo button, so help me.

The mess the kids leave on the floor is usually theirs to clean up. But when the mess bleeds onto the desk, with all my own stuff in various states of organization and disarray, it becomes my job to take care of. Mostly, I take care of them by not allowing them to be made in the first place. Boundaries, rules, whatever you call it – the desk is my space and the kids have mostly learned to respect that.

Prevention is the easiest way to take care of everything, right? If we could just keep the hurtful words, the hard feelings, or the negative habits of others out of our headspace, life would be so much easier. I have my own thoughts to take captive, and that’s a job of its own to deal with. But once those other things penetrate, they’re my problem, too.

Oh, wait, I was talking about physical messes. I keep forgetting.

It would be easier if it none of it ever happened in the first place – the physical or emotional messes – but the world is a bloody battlefield. It would be easier to just not enter the fray, but we can’t prevent everything…and really, would we want to? We’re made to help each other navigate the mess.

But we have to be invited to do so. And if the mess is ours – whether we made it, or we just inherited it and now it’s all over our space – we have to be the one to initiate the cleaning.

I read this verse a few weeks ago and haven’t been able to get it off my mind:

The LORD your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior. He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love, He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.

– Zephaniah 3:17, NAS

Most versions of this verse end with “He will rejoice over you with singing” but when I read this version and the phrase “shouts of joy,” the Lord told me something new.

When do parents shout for joy over their children? He asked me.

Well, I thought, parents shout for joy when they see their kids achieve – when they succeed, when they score a goal, when they win something big, when they hit a milestone. We cheered over Kavanagh getting his first tooth, and we’re ready to whoop and holler when he takes his first steps.

But as adults, all of our success, achievement, or milestones are things He does for us, and through us. We know we’re not doing them on our own. So why would He shout for us when He’s the one doing the work?

I don’t, He said. I shout for joy over you when you do something I can’t do for you.

What can’t You do for us? I asked.

I can’t choose surrender and obedience for you, He said.

I can’t choose for you to clean up your mess. I can help you do it, but you have to want it first.

I can’t choose for you to stay steadfast in the battle, still fighting and standing, in spite of everything around you. I can want those things for you, and I can help you through them, but only you can choose to move forward in growth, instead of retreating.

That is what I shout for joy over. 

 For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, 

and virtue with knowledge, 

and knowledge with self-control,

and self-control with steadfastness,

and steadfastness with godliness, 

and godliness with brotherly affection,

and brotherly affection with love. 

For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

– 2 Peter 1:5-8, ESV

Just as the main battle we fight is less about violent movement and more about steady abiding, the victories He shouts over in our lives are the small-but-huge efforts that come in the quiet:

When we choose truth over rumor, or grace and forgiveness over hard feelings.

When we address our own bad habits, and choose healthier thought patterns.

When we choose to pray and thank God even when things look ugly.

When we tackle the hard-but-necessary conversation when it seems easier to let it slide and pay the consequences later.

When we push forward in doing the good things: Gratitude, repentance, teachability, honor.

When we stop to hug the kid, kiss the spouse, and clean up our mess…even if someone else started it.

He can’t wait to for us to take those first steps, and to cheer us on as we keep moving forward. It’s our obedience, and integrity, and gritty steadfastness that He shouts over.

dealing with the mess: clothespins

_________

This is an excerpt from ABIDE volume 6: Surrender to Win, available here.