Encouragement

Have you ever wondered why, in the Bible, there are those really long lists of people's names? You know, the ones that tell us so-and-so begot so-and-so who begot so-and-so?

I was thinking about that recently. I'll just admit it...I've always sort of skipped over those parts, thinking how in the world that could possibly be of any value to me at this present time. But if there's nothing in the Bible that isn't beneficial for us in some way, then there has to be a good reason why God wanted us to know about these people.

We learn in Acts 17:26, "And He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place." God decided ahead of time that we would be placed where we are, in the exact time that we need to be, to carry out His purposes.

Esther was told by Mordecai that perhaps she was placed in the king's house "for such a time as this" - to carry out God's will for that situation, at that particular time. He made sure that Esther was there and He equipped her with all she needed to follow through with His plans.

It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that God would use me for anything, to be honest. At times, my life seems so mundane and boring. Maybe those ancient people felt the same way. And, when I think about how many people there are in the world, and when I put that together with the thought that God loves and knows each and every one of us intimately, that's really hard to fathom. Matthew 10:30 says, "And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered."

That's a LOT of hairs!

It occurred to me that maybe He took the time to list the name each of these people in order to point out to us that our mission here in this life is not insignificant. Those people, humpteen thousand generations back, played important parts in history, and they probably had no idea how they were being used in God's amazing plan. For us, their lives were of great importance. God worked out the details of their lives to accomplish His goals, which, in turn blessed us immeasurably.

So, maybe that seemingly endless genealogical list of names we can't pronounce isn't just page filler. Maybe it's meant to be encouragement for us. When we feel like there's no real purpose for our lives, it adds a new perspective to know that the things we are doing now may very well be leading up to something bigger, even generations from now. And, though we may never realize what that big event is, we can rest assured that God will remember and He will bless our efforts. It's not all for nothing. God was there with them then and He's here with us now. He knew them by name and He knows us by name, too. For me, that's a comfort and an encouragement!

Blessings,

Is This What It's All About?

Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then, I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. Philippians 2:14-16 (NIV)

Ever struggle with purpose?

I do. I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into a rut that is eight years in the making. Each weekday morning, I wake up at 6:00 a.m., press the snooze button on my phone approximately five times before getting up to make coffee, shower, and proceed with my daily routine of getting the kids up and out the door for school. All this while getting myself ready for work. After work, I come home too drained to be functional in any capacity worthy to be deemed "motherhood."

While I know it was a God-send at the time they hired me, and I know I should be thankful for having a job when so many people don't (and I am, I really am), my job is so completely unfulfilling to me that I find it a daily struggle to focus on the actual work that I do. I leave work most days feeling emotionally drained from the struggle to focus on why I'm there. I leave knowing my employer deserves more from me.

It isn't a "dirty job" as Mike Rowe would define it. And it isn't physically demanding. It's actually a relatively cushy job. I work with great people who have been good to me over the years. I earn a good salary and have great benefits.

But I ask myself every. single. day. Is this what it's all about? Is this all there is? If I'm consistent in anything, it's in grumbling and complaining about my job on a daily basis.

So, what is it about my job that causes me to complain? I've discovered that it isn't my job at all. Not really.

As I sit behind my desk at work each day, my mind wanders to my family - my husband and my kids. I think about what they might be doing or how much longer until the kids will be home from school. Wishing I was there to greet them at the door with homemade cookies and a big hug. Wishing I could hear all about their day while making their dinner. I think about the troubles they have and wish I could be there with them more to really listen to them. Wishing I wasn't so impatient with them when I am with them.

Or, I wish I were able to sit down with my Bible and study at a time each day when I'm most likely to retain what I read. Instead, I either try to cram it in while eating during my lunch hour or I do battle with my eyelids at night. Sadly, more often than not, I simply opt out.

Or, I think about the many projects on my list that I could be working on, if only I were home. Projects that I begin with enthusiasm, but never seem to finish because I run out of steam and motivation while waiting for a good time to work on them in between mothering and working.

I also think about this blog. Thinking it would be nice to have the time to devote to it. I think of it often. I love to write. And I have a lot that I could write about. I'm sure someone out there deals with the same issues I do. And I know there are hundreds of folks with the same interests because I read the blogs. What, I wonder, am I supposed to do with this blog? Should I just consider it a nice thought, in theory, but just not realistic?

I think about a lot of things while I'm at my job. Just not my job. While these things are not bad things, thinking about them at work causes me to be a less than diligent employee. Something that leaves me feeling guilty, which tells me this isn't something God is doing.

I know that God gave me all these things in my life that I love and enjoy. He also gave me a job that I wasn't qualified for at a time in my life when I needed to have an income. And I needed to be surrounded by caring, Christian people. He provided what I needed, when I needed it.

Why do I struggle so much with focusing on my job? Why do I complain? Because I've let my own desires overshadow God's blessings and distort the Truth. I believe all the things my mind drifts to while I'm at work are good, God-given desires. But, I think there are things He needs to teach me before I'm able to receive them. I believe He's teaching me self-discipline and at the same time, He's revealing the gifts He's equipped me with. In exercising the one, I believe I will receive the other.

I've learned a little something about life in the last decade. The things that bring joy in life are gifts from a loving God. Our gifts fulfill a yearning in our spirits and our individual gifts and talents come easy to us. I don't believe that God gifted us with interests and abilities to merely use them whenever we can squeeze them in. I believe the secret to finding purpose lies in realizing our gifts and utilizing them in a way that edifies - not only ourselves, but others, as well - and in a way that brings glory to God. Once we realize His purpose in our lives, we need to receive it and continually seek His grace in fulfilling it.

I have so much more to offer my family than what I'm giving them. They deserve the best I have to offer. And the best I have to offer is not merely the weekends and a paycheck. I don't believe this is the way God intended it to be. But this is where I am right now. I've been very slow at learning the lessons He's been trying to teach me for so many years. Lessons about family, money, gifts, and faith.

Needless to say, I'm listening a little closer for that still small voice these days. The One I know would never steer me wrong.

Heavenly Father, I pray that You will grant me the grace to fulfill the purpose which you intended for me. Help me to balance the responsibilities of family and work that You have set before me and to do so with diligence and integrity. Help me to always work as if unto You without grumbling or complaining. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Linking to:

Blessings,

Can I Get A Witness?

The last few days have been difficult for me. I'm waiting for some tests to come back from my trip to the doctor Tuesday afternoon.  I've been feeling some awful strong emotions and crying at the drop of a hat. I've always been a crier, but this is different. It comes in waves. Or whenever I think of my kids. Or whenever someone talks to me, is nice to me, is mean to me, or looks at me the wrong way. 

Sounds hormonal to me.

On a different note, I've often wondered what it feels like to know that you are called to work for the Lord.  Of course, I feel like we're all called to do the work of the Lord in some capacity, but I'm talking about seriously dedicating your life to that purpose - like starting a ministry.  What does that feel like?  Does everything in your life just glow with divine radiance once you come to that revelation?  Or do things get more difficult and require more from you - more spiritually, emotionally, and physically - before you actually get to the point of living out that calling?

Just wondering.

Blessings,
Christa

The Voice

Here is something I wrote earlier this year during a particularly rough period with my son...

My younger son is 13. A vulnerable age – wedged snugly between boyhood and manhood. I can only imagine that’s a very confusing place to be. He’s a thinker – very insightful. Over the course of the past several months, he's expressed serious questions about life, about himself, and about God. He told me recently, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t believe in God. As hard that was for me to hear, I believe he is genuinely looking for answers to his questions. He wants tangible proof that God exists.

After he dropped the bomb of disbelief on me that night, we read scripture together. Whether he was open to believe God’s Word or not, I knew that was the only place to find answers to his questions. We read and we talked. We talked about finding our worth in God and not in what the world thinks we should be. We talked about finding purpose in life through all the disappointments and obstacles we face. We also talked about spiritual gifts - how we find our unique gift and use it to glorify God. We talked about several things that night, but most important, I think, was our talk about how we should not allow Satan to steal our joy by listening to his lies, because Satan knows our weaknesses and he preys on those weaknesses in order to bring us to the point of despair – to the point of losing hope, and ultimately, losing our faith. This, I feared, is the point my son had reached.

Surprisingly, on the Sunday morning following that talk, my son wanted to sit with me at church. He usually sits with his friends from the youth group in the front pews, but for whatever reason, my confused baby boy chose to sit with me that day, and I was honored. I hadn’t expected my husband to come to church that day. He has doubts and questions of his own, and going to church with us has been a struggle for him. But lo and behold, he came! He was late, but he came! As I sat there between my husband and my troubled son, I thanked God for His goodness and His grace.

The chatter in the sanctuary quieted down as the pastor opened the service with prayer. I cried as he prayed, struggling to focus on the words of his prayer through my tears. I didn’t know for sure if it was hormones causing my tears or if I was truly moved by the Holy Spirit. Not to take away from the moving of the Spirit, but I cry a lot. My crying in church is no rare occasion. In fact, it’s pretty much a sure thing – like death and taxes. On this day, though, I wasn’t just crying, as a general term. I was weeping. The tears were coming from deep within me; my soul ached for a healing touch from the Lord. I have felt an aching spirit before, but today, the ache seemed stronger than ever. In addition to the struggles with my son and our other three children, my husband and I had battled various issues throughout our marriage of eight years, and the battle seemed endless. I wanted peace. I wanted unity. I needed to hear from God. Our family desperately needed healing and God was the only One who could provide it.

The choir began to sing and the congregation gradually joined in. The praise and worship was more powerful that day than it had felt in a long time, at least for me. As I stood there listening to the music, I felt like singing, but all I could do was bow my head, close my eyes, and let the words and music penetrate to the core of me. My tears spilled out onto my hands as I grasped the pew in front of me. I felt detached somehow. Like a scene in a movie where a person is unconscious and can hear those around him, but is unable to respond.

I prayed. I don’t know exactly what I prayed for, but I prayed. My mind seemed to race. There was so much in my life that needed God’s touch; I didn’t even know where to begin. My mind scrambled for something to say. “Please Lord, please just help us! Bring what we need! Help my son - open his fragile heart and help him see you Lord, protect him from Satan’s lies! Strengthen my marriage…please, Lord!” I went on and on, rambling requests to God about nothing in particular, but everything in general. Then, through my mind’s voice and my heart’s cries, I heard it. The words were so clear that I actually looked over to my left where my son stood because that’s where it seemed to come from. The voice was distinctly different from that of my mind. This voice was gentle and soothing. I clearly heard the words.

"It will be ok."

Was that Him? I’d always heard people talk about hearing the Lord telling them this or that. How does that sound? How do you know it's really Him?

Feeling a bit confused, I took a deep breath and my tears began to subside. I felt a rush of peace and contentment come over me as I looked up through moist, foggy eyes. My racing thoughts slowed as I recalled the words I had just heard. “It will be ok.” Not exactly earth-shattering, and a little more vague than I would have thought, but comforting nonetheless.

The worship music sounded so sweet; I began to sing. The desperation and grief I had felt a moment ago was completely gone. The Spirit of the Lord was there, and he was standing right beside me – between me and my troubled son! He spoke to me. He heard the cries of my heart and He spoke to me!

Shortly after that precious moment, we sat down and my son leaned over to rest his head on my shoulder. This is a boy who typically pulls away at the slightest indication that I might touch him. I was surprised at first, and thought that perhaps he was merely tired and wanted a place to rest his sleepy head. Even if that was the case, it was fine with me. I began to cry again, only this time it was tears of joy. Tears of thanksgiving. I leaned my head over to rest on his and we sat there together, listening to the music fade as the pastor began his sermon. I sat very still, trying to stifle my sobs of joy for fear that he would lift his head from my shoulder. I reveled in the closeness I felt with him at that moment.

Eventually, he did move his head and sat up in the pew. I wondered if he was listening to the sermon. He was fidgety, as usual. Examining his fingernails. Squirming. My initial instinct was to nudge him with my elbow and tell him to be still and listen. Then I remembered the voice I’d heard moments earlier. “It will be ok.” Trusting in my Assurance, I returned my attention to the sermon. Something the pastor said at that point really hit home. He spoke of the lies Satan tells us, with the intention to steal our joy and to discourage us. To distract us from the One who gives us joy. I leaned over to my son and whispered in his ear, “do you remember our talk about this the other night?” “Yes,” he answered. He was listening. Thank you, God, he was listening!

After the service concluded, there was a rare smile on my son’s face. I don’t know if he was able to comprehend all that happened that day, but I was happy to see that smile. The Lord worked in our lives during that service. God heard my cries, He knew my pain and that of my son. He was there that day with His arms around us, and He assured me “it will be ok.” Perhaps I felt more from the Lord that day than my son did, but I know what I heard. I know why I heard it. On this day, I’d heard the voice of the Lord assure me, “it will be ok.”

“I trust you, Lord,” I said, with my arm around my son. “I trust you to give him what he needs.”

Blessings,

Christa