do hard things: the Kingdom’s response to ease & apathy

Posted on by October 5, 2023

A few weeks ago in our prayer meeting, an elderly friend quietly said, “The Lord likes bravery, and our willingness to do hard, new things.”

I think she’s right. And we can do hard things. But often, we’d rather not.

do hard things: the Kingdom's response to ease and apathy

For example, raising poultry is a lot harder than just buying eggs at the store once a week. It’s not convenient, but it is ideal, because once you know what goes into your supermarket eggs and meat and how the food supply has been repeatedly attacked in the last few years, you’ll have the motivation to do hard things. (Or at least to start looking for a local egg source.)

But it’s easier not to know, and that’s what we often opt for. Learning is pretty dangerous because it makes us uncomfortable and nudges us toward action we’d rather not participate in.

And we can’t learn everything at once – this is a long journey we’re on, and I’m nowhere close to arriving – but every year we’re learning to do things differently to align more with the values we claim to believe in.

Such as, slavery is wrong. No brainer, right? But when was the last time you (or hey, your church) bought something that was substantially cheaper than the alternative because you didn’t want to pay more? When two almost identical items vary that much in price, it’s usually because one of them was made by someone who didn’t get paid for their labor. If I had a dollar for every time in the last twenty years my kids received slave-made trinkets from their classes at church, I’d have enough money to adopt three more kids.

People need to know. There’s so much we need to know.

We need to know Who we’re dealing with and how He loves us, and how to handle others with care. Those are the basics. But also, we need to know that we can do hard things – because if we’re not willing to do hard things, our basics go nowhere.

And this right here is where the rubber meets the road in the Kingdom: It’s not enough say we value Biblical beliefs if we’re still actually living as our own god and worshipping ease.

It’s a lesson I thought I already knew eleven years ago, until I realized I didn’t. We thought we knew what “hard” was: We had four kids and parenting was hard, we’d been married for 15 years and some of those years were hard. The process of adoption – with all of its paperwork and training and fundraising – was hard.

But is it easier now? Yes.

And also, no.

Sailing a boat across stormy waters is one kind of hard. But stepping out of it and trusting the Lord to defy gravity and hold you on top of it is a whole other thing.

So “hard” is relative, and it’s not what’s really important. What the Lord is looking for is our willingness to go to the next level, to surrender and trust Him in a new way, to obey Him in something that requires His intervention and not just our own ability.

Will we mess up? Will we make mistakes? Absolutely, no doubt. But is the Lord unaware of our imperfections and efforts when He calls us? Nope. He knows and is not surprised; He’s not afraid of us making Him look bad. And if we’re honest, we’re not afraid of that, either. We’re afraid we’ll make ourselves look bad.

When Peter risked the ocean, he didn’t care what the guys in the boat thought; His connection with Jesus is what both compelled and allowed him to walk on water. But when Jesus becomes less important than anything or anyone else, we make mistakes and lose our focus, and this is when we start to sink. Ask me how I know.

If we only know Jesus as our savior but not also as our Lord, we won’t step out of the boat. And maybe that’s a good thing because we can’t survive the water without Him.

Are we willing to go to the next level and obey Him in whatever hard thing He’s calling us to next? Will we surrender our spending habits and lifestyles? Will we let go of our insecurities and ignorance-is-bliss mentality?

But if I _____ (shop elsewhere, adopt a child, quit my job, research that issue, stop living with my boyfriend, quit that habit, homeschool my kids, change my business, have that hard conversation, let go of unforgiveness, whatever) I don’t know what will happen. I don’t have the money. What will people think of me?

The Lord is trying to bring us out of our old confinements and inabilities into a broader space where we live surrendered to Him. It’s a place where we’re bound by love, and therefore, free.

He tried to do it with the Israelites, and when discomfort hit, they dug in their heels just like we do:

And why have you made us come up out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place? It is no place for grain or figs or vines or pomegranates, and there is no water to drink.

– Numbers 20:5

There is no Starbucks, no Walmart, no cheap poison from McDonalds.

Absolute trust in His love for us is the most critical choice we make, because life doesn’t always make sense. We forfeit control outside the comfort zone where everything operates by a different set of rules. And that supernatural trust is a secure place – Jesus is our security and stability outside the comfort zone, on the water – but the minute we look back to the boat (or the bank account, or the old habits, or anything else) for security, we expose ourselves to sinking.

But we were made to risk the ocean, and walk on water.

It’s not enough to just be on the right side. The conservative patriot who winks at porn is just as compromised as the liberal who advocates for abortion, regardless of whether or not they attend church every Sunday. The one who considers themselves a great warrior or influencer in these days while living in impurity has nothing on the person who lives in quiet, bold alignment with the Spirit, listening and interceding, confident and unassuming in the dunamis the Holy Spirit offers.

When you’re living fully surrendered, the “normal Christians” around you will wonder at your life just as much as those who don’t know Jesus.

Maybe our family wasn’t wrong. Maybe families are supposed to take on huge challenges and come to the end of themselves and learn to trust God for radical healing and restoration. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to be normal, rather than the comfortable, spacious lifestyle that lets us be the center of our own universe.

– Risk the Ocean: An Adoptive Mom’s Memoir on Sinking and Sanctification

Living in surrender means we no longer default to convenience. We surrender to living inconveniently because that means living in power, because our bodies are a temple, because our money and time and talents are His, and we’re stewards of the King. Our lives are lived to build the Kingdom, not the enemy’s platform. This is our spiritual act of worship.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.

– Romans 12:1-2

We talk about expanding the Kingdom, but if we live to pad our comfort zone – shunning the inconvenient and ignoring the uncomfortable and refusing His sanctifying work in us – we’re merely inoculating others from the Kingdom rather than bringing them into it.

The next generation inherits what the first generation backed out of. They will inherit the promise, but they will also have to fight the battles that should have already been won by the previous generation that neglected to walk in the promise.

So let’s not back out of this.

Kingdom Culture ought to be standard Christianity. Radical surrender, service, healings, joy, peace, and exploits ought to be our norm, not the extreme fringe.

Will we turn down a life fit for glossy magazine pages in favor of a life of transparency? What if we traded our shiny packaging for rough brown paper, tied with grace?

– Risk the Ocean

There’s room for each of us to grow, and Jesus knows our weakness and our desire to do better. Like with Peter, He asks us, Why did you doubt? Don’t you know that I’ve got this? Don’t you know that I’ve got you?

Surrender prevents our sinking. He meets us in mercy, reaching out to us, and holding our hands as we walk back to the boat together.

______

If you’d like to read my story of sinking and sanctification, Risk the Ocean is now available. You can buy it directly from us, or find it on Amazon, or get it anywhere books are sold.

Here are part one and part two of this series.

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know who you’re dealing with: the Kingdom’s response to insecurity

Posted on by September 1, 2023

When I come here to write to you, I often don’t know exactly what I’m going to say. I usually have a bunch of notes (sometimes way too many) and a theme (also, sometimes too many), and the first step is to do some sorting. Then fleshing out. And then refining.

It’s not a clean, pretty process. It usually involves some wailing and gnashing of teeth, a little yelling at the laptop, and lots of prayer and coffee.

know who you're dealing with: the Kingdom's response to insecurity

Today I’m looking at a document of 2418 words and counting. That’s usually too long for a post, so I have it separated into two themes (hence, two posts), and here I am, writing the intro to one of those posts at the top of the document. So far, so good.

But there’s a ton of shuffling and rearranging to do. A lot of truth to find, and some unnecessary content to sift out. Figuring out what I’m really dealing with and what He really wants to say through me can be quite an ordeal.

And as we mature and grow in the Lord, this is what He does with us, too – because life is a journey of learning who (and Who) we’re dealing with.

(Side note: Yes, I know grammatically it should be “whom” but that sounds dorky and when I wrote a chapter on this in Oh My Soul, I intentionally used the more familiar phrasing rather than the stuffy-sounding correct version. So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

As I was saying, there’s a lot about the writing process that reflects God’s work in us. And sometimes the stuffiest among (amongst?) us need the most work. Sometimes we’re so consumed with being right that we forget He is our righteousness.

For example, often when pastors or writers talk about God’s goodness, they feel the need to point out they’re not preaching a prosperity gospel. They don’t want to be seen as “those people.” But why does insecurity drive us to such defensiveness and finger pointing? Why do we need to qualify or apologize for God’s goodness? If we really understood how much God loved us, and we felt secure in that love (that is, knew Who and who we’re dealing with), we wouldn’t act out of such insecurity.

Sometimes God’s people can be the biggest accusers, and the most ungentle. When we don’t know our identity we confuse ourselves with God and act like the devil, judging and accusing everyone around us. But at the same time, we’re afraid to be on the receiving end of either of those, so we try to nip it in the bud by saying we shouldn’t be lumped in with “those people” – whoever “those people” are.

It’s an easy trap to fall into when critical thoughts are the loudest in our minds, whether they’re directed at ourselves or others. Those thoughts take the veil that was torn and carefully sew it back up, keeping that intrusive, all-seeing light safely on the other side so we don’t feel exposed. Stay over there. Don’t get too close, I don’t want you to really see me.

But if we really understood how much God loved us, we wouldn’t act out of insecurity. We wouldn’t need to build up our ego or protect our fragile facades; we would know that God already sees and knows, and we would walk in the ways of the One who did not revile when reviled because He knew He had nothing to prove. This is a big reason why we’re told not to cast our pearls before swine…because sometimes people act like swine when they don’t know their identity yet.

It’s easy to find those who are secure in their identity: They’re the ones who aren’t being defensive, even when accused by the brethren. (And who is the accuser of the brethren? Not someone we should be emulating or partnering with.)

If the enemy can convince us that other people in God’s family are our enemies and we are manipulated into treating each other that way, we forget who the real enemy is. We walk with a veil over our eyes, misdirecting our attack at each other instead of at the real enemy, and we end up doing his work.

The righteousness of our culture is at stake, not because we go around shaking our fingers at others (or ourselves) in condemnation, but because when we hear and share His words, we are pointing our finger toward the One who saved us. When we do that, we are poking holes in the canopy and light pours through, pressing into dark areas that have been filled with pain. Clouds disperse, answers and clarity start emerging. This is the security of Kingdom culture.

In the Bible, Jesus was constantly poking holes in those shrouds of insecurity, and He didn’t do it in the most predictable ways, either. Let’s look:

And Jesus went away from there and withdrew to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and was crying, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely oppressed by a demon.” But he did not answer her a word.

And his disciples came and begged him, saying, “Send her away, for she is crying out after us.”

He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

– Matthew 15:21-24

Notice two things here: First, Jesus is answering the disciples, not the woman. Second, He’s not doing what they told Him to do.

They want Him to send her away – Look, Lord, this woman is making a scene and she shouldn’t even be talking to you – and He quietly poses the conflict to them, and you see the parallel of the Great Commission here: We start in Judea, then Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth. It was less about class and more about proximity and identity, because there is no favoritism with God.

Also, keep in mind that this passage comes immediately after His teaching on what really defiles a person: It’s not what goes in (like culturally acceptable food and traditions) but what comes out of the heart.

“But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person. But to eat with unwashed hands does not defile anyone.”

– Matthew 15:18-20

So Jesus doesn’t send her away, and she comes closer in verse 25:

But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.”

And then Jesus does something He’s really good at doing, which is defying cultural expectations. He speaks to her. And here’s what He says in verse 26:

And he answered, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”

Okay, wait wait wait – I know you’re reading this and thinking, Wow, harsh and rude. It does sound that way. I’ve read some terrible commentaries that even declare that this is Jesus “putting the woman in her place” even though that is inconsistent with Scripture and it flies in the face of both the rest of this passage and His ministry.

Look at what is juxtaposed here: Jesus is speaking to her, while repeating the cultural attitudes that He and the woman were both familiar with. I don’t think He was calling her a dog – I think He was challenging the cultural attitudes, and testing her to see if she believed them. This is what the world says about you. Do you follow the world, or do you believe in Me? Do you know Who (and who) you’re dealing with?

With that in mind, His tone sounds like He’s quoting a common saying and He wants to see what her response is to it.

She passes that test beautifully:

She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed instantly.

– Matthew 15:27-28

He does it again. Defying cultural expectations, He praises her, and then rewards her. There are only a handful of times in the New Testament when we see Jesus astonished at someone’s faith, and this is one of them.

Similar to when He asked Peter “But who do you say that I am?” Jesus is asking her, Do you believe Me, or the world we’re living in? Which viewpoint do you value most? And she responds with faith in His goodness in spite of norms and common errors, and she knew He had abundance. She knew He wasn’t limited to cultural traditions and insecurities, and that she didn’t have to be, either.

Her story would have turned out differently if she had believed what was trendy. If she thought less of herself, or if she had thought less of Him, or if she was afraid to make a scene, or she was insecure about what other people might think, her daughter would have remained in torment. And she would’ve lived beneath her identity, too.

But she knew who, and Who, she was dealing with. She wasn’t intimidated by wagging fingers and condescending judgment of those around her…and we shouldn’t be, either.

His proximity burns off chaff, in us and in others: the clique-y ladies in church, the young man who always seems grumpy, the girl who comes off a little too strong in her opinions, the kid who holds back in smiling and emanates awkwardness…and even the woman who sits at the computer and wrestles with how her words will be understood by her readers.

The veil is close and we don’t even recognize these things about us half the time. The other half of the time, we know there’s something smothering us but we can’t quite identify what it is or why we do it or how to fix it.

But the Lord knows the roots behind these, and He knows how to heal and resolve them. We don’t have to strive and scour the depths of the unknown to fix ourselves.

We just need to be in proximity to the fire so He can do His work – and we can bring that fire for others in gentle power (which is what meekness is) and know He’s bringing healing and wholeness to our communities as we do it.

handle with care: the Kingdom’s response to grief & pain

Posted on by August 24, 2023

I walked down the hallway this morning toward the meeting room where we have weekly prayer. My friend whose husband died last Saturday was there, already being hugged by another friend, so I waited my turn. We prayed for her, and rejoiced for him – I’ve mentioned him to you before – and then we moved on to interceding for our church, community, nation, and world.

handle with care: the Kingdom's response to grief and pain

The world needs intercession. Maybe that’s why we’re noticing more alarms; there’s smoke everywhere. Something is definitely spiking in the atmosphere. More warfare, more attack – but also, more coming together, more standing back to back. More hugging and generosity. More looking out for each other. And we need to look out for each other.

One of my friends is losing her hair and facing hard choices about cancer treatment, and another is on alert for wildfire evacuations while her husband recovers from a chainsaw accident. We have close friends dealing with extreme financial hardship and health challenges. All around, we are fragile and broken, healing and raw, on edge and in His hands, because there’s no other place to run for safety.

In our family, we got Kavanagh’s cast off last week just in time for more medical appointments for Andrey as we navigate the medical merry-go-round of specialists with varying degrees of knowing what they are doing, and equally varying degrees of how much they charge for their particular blend of experimentation and expertise.

So far, we know there’s a CT scan and then a surgery coming up. We are praying for healing and expecting mighty things, while simultaneously calling down fire upon the racket of Big Pharma and looking for the right ENT specialist. Someone who doesn’t charge $1200 an hour to those who pay out of pocket would be greeeeeat.

Also, since I’m giving you the big family update, guardianship proceedings are coming up – we finished the courses, and the first round of paperwork goes to the Palmer Courthouse this week. And my heart is…better…I’m pretty sure it’s better, at least…about it.

One of the things that helped was, shockingly, the courses themselves. While most guardianship cases in Alaska seem to be for elderly people who need assistance, there was one case study that sounded a lot like both Andrey and Reagan. Even better, the mother in that case also felt frustrated at the need to go through a legal process (because, GAHHHH) just to simply keep caring for her child as she had been doing all along, which has been my main beef, too. But in a move that shows the government can do a few things right (grin) even the state of Alaska acknowledges those valid feelings, and explained the need for guardianship in a way that was gentle and on the family’s side. Repeatedly, they described how this is a delicate process.

And suddenly I felt the relief of not having to plow new ground. I am so tired of plowing new ground. Here, finally, I saw that someone has walked this path who wears shoes like mine, and the trail has already been somewhat cleared. A weight lifted off me.

We are fragile, broken and healing. We all need to be handled with care.

Walking gently is imperative right now, because the bull in the china shop doesn’t have eyes or ears to recognize the needs around them. These are days to move cautiously and deliberately; it’s hard to cultivate sensitivity and discernment about the times without a little stillness.

“I did not send the prophets, yet they ran; I did not speak to them, yet they prophesied.

But if they had stood in my council, then they would have proclaimed my words to my people, and they would have turned them from their evil way, and from the evil of their deeds.”

– Jeremiah 23:21-22

This is why we listen for His words and then pray for boldness to share them in the ways He has gifted and positioned us. It’s easy to make excuses when we’re hurting and grieving, but those things don’t let us off the hook of praying and abiding. You know what happens when we pray and abide? He tells us stuff. And often, He tell us to share about it.

Let me make a huge understatement: The Church hasn’t always been great at this.

The Church is filled with people who really aren’t familiar with the love of God, and it’s shown by how we puff ourselves up at the expense of each other. Love builds up, but knowledge puffs up – and we already know that wounded and hurting people tend to wound and hurt other people. But Kingdom culture changes that, because in Kingdom culture, we abide and surrender. Rather than festering inward, those wounds and pain draw us outward and give us wisdom to recognize similar wounds and pain in others. Oh friend, I recognize those shoes you’re wearing. They look like mine, too.

When we are tender and fragile, we naturally lean toward the friend who wields words and truth gently, who holds wisdom humbly because they won it through pain without allowing bitterness to fester. A heart that is ready to be comforted runs to the friend who carries compassion forged through experience.

– Risk the Ocean: An Adoptive Mom’s Memoir on Sinking and Sanctification

Have you ever broken something, fixed it, and then broke it again because you weren’t careful with it? We used to have a baby gate like this – actually, we’ve had a million things like this, but the baby gate is a strong memory because we had to teach our kids to use it gently. If it was treated with respect, it worked perfectly to keep our toddler from trespassing upstairs. But if someone just swung it open or slammed it shut, it would break again.

Because things are more fragile where they’ve already been fractured. We are, too.

So we are walking in more weakness, but also more strength. We are abiding and watchful, listening and interceding. Pain and hardship haven’t won the day; God has and is continuing to take everything the enemy throws at us and turning it for our good, for His glory.

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

– 2 Corinthians 12:10

We are wiser and healthier. More strategic, more mature. Less prone to falling for the lies and manipulations of the enemy. Less likely to act out in puffing insecurity toward those around us who are also hurting, and more equipped to create an atmosphere of healing.

We can know things for ourselves but still need to hear them from others. We can encourage each other with truth and fight each other’s darkness, but still need others to shine that truth into us on the days that fall pitch black. We stumble and get our hands and knees in the mud, and a fellow traveler says, Here, I’ll hold your lantern for you while you get back up again. There you are. Bravely now, onward.

– Risk the Ocean: An Adoptive Mom’s Memoir on Sinking and Sanctification

We’re not looking down on those dealing with affliction and darkness because we remember our own pain and fumbling. Grief is not a competition.

But when we allow the Lord to use it to make us more like Him – the One who was acquainted with grief – it is a qualifier.

The wisdom and maturity wrought from it empowers us to lead others back into wholeness. Our brokenness helps break the path ahead, and plow the ground for others. And as we go there, we are bringing the culture with us.