A Revolution for the Weary

Revolution for the weary

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I overheard one of my kids describing the New Year, as “that time when grown-ups make New Year’s revolutions.” It made me think. I’m not one for resolutions—the cold and dreary arrival of January rarely incites enough excitement for me to add things to my endless to-do list. The holidays are over, everything is starting up with a vengeance, the expectations of the new year are before me, and I am WEARY. And weary people have no business making resolutions. Those are the things I make every night of my life. Tomorrow, I’m going to [insert well-meaning and lofty goal]. So many things I could put there. I just can’t.

A revolution, however, is a dramatic and wide-reaching change in the way something works and by the time I actually get around to buying a calendar with the accurate year on the front of it, the reality that things just aren’t working could not be more apparent. A hard look at what my weary soul is revolving around is the only fix for something a resolution band-aid could never mend.

There are a thousand reasons I really, truly should exercise more, eat better, sleep longer, spend less, de-clutter, and parent more effectively but these things must never be my life’s orbit. My soul matters infinitely more than my body or my diet, God determines my future (not my savings account or 401K), my messy house and dirty laundry are not eternal (praise the Lord), and contrary to what all the blogs imply, motherhood is not my highest calling. There are so many good and noble things I can do, but the truth is, I will do them immeasurably better and more effectively and they will not be wasted when my life revolves around a perfect, holy, unchanging foundation—the person of God, rather than the hundreds of great things that will ultimately lead to the opposite of rest and peace when they become my focus, rather than my fruit.

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

We are drowning in choices. It’s hard to know which fight to pick, which cause to rally behind, or what to make our life’s work.  We can become so obsessed with finding our purpose and knowing God’s plan for our lives, that we forget HE is our purpose and knowing HIM is his plan. Not accomplishing our next (even godly) goal, but knowing the creator of the universe in a real and intimate way. God’s wisdom, direction, and his purposes are so intertwined with who he is. The deeper we know the person of God the more our hearts and passions (and resolutions!) will align with his. Oftentimes, this means letting go of the goals we already have.

I’m not sure why I fight this so much—embracing surrender. On paper it sounds beautiful and easier and simpler, but giving up goals is hard. “Surrender” is the last word that comes to mind when we think of revolutions. But God’s ways are not our ways. The world tells us to fight it and make it and do it and take it, while God says, “be still and know that I am God.” How’s that for a fight song? Instead of taking back our life we are called to give it up. We can say “in God we trust” all day long but if we can’t surrender our job, our children, our marriage, or our future then it’s not him we’re trusting in.

 “The Lord will fight for you. You only need to be still.” (Exodus 14:14)

Still can be the hardest. The word conjures up images of just sitting here oblivious to reality while our house degenerates into shambles, our children eat leftover Christmas candy for dinner, and our un-exercising selves just get more flabby and out-of-breath as we hide in our room reading the Bible all day. Or maybe that we give up on our dreams, stop applying ourselves to our work, or turn a deaf ear to the needs and battles around us because we need to “focus on God.” It just sounds lazy. But lest we think we are destined for a dreary existence of just quitting and eternal waiting, we must remind ourselves, that is not God. Why? Because that is not life, and God assures us that: “Whoever finds me finds life”! (Proverbs 8:35).

 “The people who know their God shall stand firm and take action.” (Daniel 11:32b)

God sent his own son to the middle of our mess and Jesus did not merely sit home all day praying and neglecting the broken world around him—because he was in perfect fellowship with his Father. He knew God’s will because he knew God. And there were times he waited. He was a carpenter for thirty years before starting full-time ministry because sometimes God’s purpose for him was to live excellently with what was before him, sometimes it was to turn tables, and sometimes it was to rest and pray and literally give up his life. The more we know our God, the more his wisdom overflows, and the clearer it becomes whether we need to sit still and stand firmly in his presence or whether it’s time to act and fight his holy battles. We must cease striving for one hot second and seek him before searching for answers.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11)

As we set out to know God and bring him glory he opens our eyes to paths we weren’t aware of before. He wants us to have that unrivaled feeling of living out what we were called to do. These changes often happen in subtle almost imperceptible ways, but when we walk in his presence he directs our days and our thoughts and our work and our conversations and our errands in ways we never would have on our own.

“Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will act.” (Psalm 37:5)

It can’t be an afterthought, checklist, or just another read-through-the-bible plan. If we truly want our life to revolve around God rather than all the things competing for our heart and our thoughts and our time, we must expect to do life differently. There is a cost. A revolution can’t be one of our many nightly resolutions to do better tomorrow—it’d be like the earth trying to revolve around the sun in addition to a dozen other things. It will fail. God wants our all not just our Sunday mornings. But this can be different than our feeble attempts that rarely make it to February, because this one doesn’t just depend on us. In our distractibility and weariness, he is strong. His power is perfected in sleepless nights, 60-hour-work-weeks, mom-brain, failing bodies, and A.D.H.D. prayers. We need to be willing and open and fervently commit this to the Lord, but it is him who will act. He will show up every day and do beautiful things and show us who he is. Will we stop and look and listen and learn? Will we let him change our days so he can change our life?

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) It’s the only answer to our busy, un-restful, un-peaceful lives. So let this be our desperate prayer and our rallying battle cry whether we’re crawling or sprinting into this new year before us:

Dear Lord,

Help me open my weary eyes in the morning and immediately seek you rather than the world. Turn my eyes from worthless things and let no sin rule over me. Make my weaknesses clear and your strength blindingly clearer. Transform my thoughts and my lists and my habits. 

Help me parent my children the way you parent me, and don’t let me forget that being filled by you first allows me to fill them better. Make the minutiae of my life matter eternally.

Trouble me more about the state of my heart than my body—help me train and exercise my soul to pursue you. Don’t let me use relationships to fulfill me in ways only meant to be satisfied by you. Enable me to use every cent that comes or goes to advance your purposes rather than my pleasures or security. Convict me that your Kingdom is more important than my house.

Help me rest in your hope rather than wallow in my fear. Thwart my feeble yet habitual attempts to rely on my own abilities. Burden my heart with what distresses you rather than what stresses me.

Help me seek you more than answers. Help me pray more than worry, and worship more than grumble. Be my rest after sleepless nights and my peace in the chaos.  Help my mind wander to you when I’m weary. Show me your glory today.

Amen.

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Lord, Help My Daily Unbelief

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Originally published HERE at www.desiringgod.com

I once sat in a hospital room and watched my incoherent eight-year-old boy battle a life-threatening intracranial blood clot. I was oddly calm. I clung to the goodness of God and did my best to trust that he held my son in his hands — at that point it was essentially my only option. There were no more decisions to make, no actions I could take, and nothing I could control.

It’s easy to look back at times of seemingly big faith, where I “let go” of things I never really had, and foolishly pat myself on the back a little and think, “Hey, I got this. I was faithful. It worked!” only to be blindsided as I fall apart during much smaller trials — the ones that require me to make decisions, solve problems, or actually do things based on my beliefs.

Now, not even a year later, I’m losing my temper with that now nine-year-old boy as he fights with his brother, or makes one of his little sisters cry. I’m weary from a hard move that’s not finished. Worried about a house that needs to sell so we can join my husband in a different state at a new job. Stressed about finances and the future. Losing my cool over a leaking washing machine and a kitchen being taken over by ants. Concerned that my offspring are planning a coup d’etat in response to my obvious weakness and lack of leadership.

I feel far from God. My quiet times, when they happen, seem rote and shallow. My prayers feel weak. I’m stripped of my usual security, and home, and church community, and ministry, and my support system. And what’s left isn’t pretty. My soul is at war.

Betraying Our Theology by Unbelief

Here I am, collapsing under the pressure of a move and ants and some immediate uncertainty. Why? Is the God I placed my trust in at the moment of my salvation any less good when I’m navigating my second hour in line at the DMV with weeping children? Even though I’d still vehemently defend God’s absolute sovereignty, my actions often reveal an unbelief that speaks louder than my words.

When my mind is consumed with my bank account, I’m believing that money provides my security rather than my Savior. When I yell at my children for leaving a mess I need to clean, I’m believing that my comfort comes from an orderly house rather than from the God of all comfort. When I become despondent over an uncertain future and lack of stability, I’m failing to believe that I am merely a pilgrim and this is not my home.

Every hour that goes by that I fail to pray and cry out to God is an hour that I’m telling him, “It’s okay, I got this.” And then I hypocritically wonder how I got here.

“Help Me If You Can”

This became evident to me as I wearily stumbled over Mark 9. A father desperately seeks healing for his son with an evil spirit. He’s tried everything in his own power, he’s tried the church, he’s even tried the disciples, until at last, when everything else has failed, it’s just him and Jesus. There’s nothing left but a feeble, “Help me if you can” (see Mark 9:22).

My prayers sound like that far too often. I exhaust all options before sheepishly coming to the one who has power over all, and then I pray as if I’m not totally sure he can even help. Or at least I don’t expect him to. But Jesus responds to him with such power and authority that the boy’s father immediately saw in this man something far more glorious and powerful than the darkness that tormented his poor son for years. And at that moment he believed.

But the mere presence of belief does not completely eradicate unbelief. He immediately and honestly beseeches Jesus to fill that gap. “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). Such a perfect and simple response. Raw faith combined with the confession that he needed Christ to attain the far more perfect faith he craved. And Jesus answered him with a wonderful miracle, because miracles are born of faith.

As I walk through my valley, I am struck by how easy it is to be blinded by unbelief. My problem goes far deeper than my present hardships. Understanding that unbelief is often the hidden root underneath a variety of different sins is an important part in being able to weed them out of our souls.

War Against the Glory-Thief

Belief and unbelief can exist side by side. In fact, in this fallen world where uncertainty and doubt find their home, there will always be a war raging between these opposing elements. This shouldn’t feel comfortable. If for the sake of ease, you try to pacify and accept the enemy of unbelief in your soul, you’ll only get more unrest by housing a ruthless enemy in your heart. Never become complacent with unbelief. The ease and comfort we seek in complacency is a weak and pale prize in comparison to purer belief.

“Unbelief robs God of his glory in every way,” said Charles Spurgeon. Just because there will always be a war between the two doesn’t mean we accept the presence of unbelief. Darkness thrives on unbelief, often leading us into sin. While doubting isn’t necessarily a sin in itself, the sin begins when our doubts lead to action. When we enthrone unbelief over belief and actively serve that falsehood, we are exchanging a truth for a lie.

We can’t pretend to know God’s ways, and the righteous will not escape hardship, but there are times when I truly believe my trials are lengthened or even repeated due to deeply-rooted habits of unbelief. I’m robbing God of the glory that comes from believing the truth of his sovereignty, even down to the frustrating little details of my day.

Pray in Faith

Prayer is medicine for unbelief. When belief and unbelief collide, let us turn to the one our belief comes from, the source and object of our faith. Personal contact with Jesus our Savior is how we drive away unbelief. Seek his face. Pray desperately and expectantly — the belief we do have is the only means of vanquishing the enemies of our peace. Let your weak faith cling to our mighty God. Repent and pray for deliverance from unbelief even before praying for deliverance from your circumstances.

Lord, forgive me for not believing that your truth permeates every single layer of my life. Fan my tiny smoldering little spark of faith into a burning and consuming fire that will bring you glory and drive out darkness. But don’t ever let me think it is strong enough or that I have any hope of stoking it and keeping it alive apart from you. I believe; help my unbelief!

 

 

 

 

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Busyness Is Not the Problem

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Originally published HERE at www.desiringgod.com

Every so often, my head hits the pillow and I curl into a fetal position, trying not to hyperventilate at the realization that in not nearly enough hours, this finish line will become the starting line. And I’ll have to tackle life all over again. Oh come again, Lord Jesus.

I wonder how I got here — the chaos, the mess, the failing — and I strategize how to make tomorrow better. This is just a season and it will pass. But is it? And will it? I suppose the seasons have been different. Whether it was adolescence, or insecurity, or exams, or finances, or breakups, or stressful jobs, or moves, or pregnancies, or anxiety, or babies, or hard relationships, or traveling, or sickness, or parenting, or just sheer exhaustion. But so often it’s just one thing replacing another thing. Another fire to put out. Another mountain to climb. And as a doer and a fixer, the to-do list is never-ending and there’s always something to improve or put back together.

I can do this. Just tweak the schedule. Get up a little earlier. Simplify. Re-organize. Streamline. Plan better. Focus. Pare down. Clear out. Divide and conquer. Tomorrow will be better. I’ll sleep more this weekend. It’ll slow down next week. Just waiting for summer. It’ll get easier when they’re older.

Self-Sufficiency in the Storm

But there are storms in every season. Whether it’s a constant, dreary spring rain, an unexpected summer thunderstorm, or a driving, relentless blizzard, there’s no avoiding storms.

And while I might cry out to God when the storms get really bad, it’s those long, weary rains that are most dangerous for my soul. Not quite bad enough to scare me, but they get me wet enough to distract me from my purpose. I put my head down, hide under the umbrella of my self-sufficiency, and forget to look up at the one who has power over every single raindrop.

Maybe it’ll hit me as I collapse into bed, battle already fought and lost. “Lord, please just pause life for a bit and stop the rain so I can catch a glimpse of you.”

But that’s not who God is.

He is not a genie who merely takes away bad things and gives me good things. He is my good thing. He is my peace and my rest and my life and my hope — in both the storms and the calm.

When Plans Fail

“Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Rather than commanding us to try harder to find him, God tells us to be still and know him. Stop. Enough. Cease striving. Because he is God and he is moving and doing glorious things in both the sunshine and the rain, whether we stop and notice or not. We must not miss out because our hearts are too busy.

Though I would never admit it, it’s almost as if I want to streamline and organize and simplify my life to a point where I no longer need God to get me through my day. But my strengths and abilities will fail, again and again. I need a Savior every day.

Perhaps feeling overwhelmed and inadequate isn’t such a bad thing if that is what brings me to my knees and shatters my false sense of security. To the place where I realize my planning and intelligence and coping mechanisms mean absolutely nothing if I’m not becoming more and more like Christ and resting in the strength and presence of my creator, the author of my day. More of him and way, way less of me.

Christ Our Rest

We don’t need answers to all of our questions and problems; we need the onlyanswer. Seek him first and allow the Holy Spirit to lead and problem-solve and prioritize. He’s way better at it.

Yes, we probably are too busy. Yes, we probably have too much stuff. Yes, we probably need more sleep. But fixing these things should be the fruit of seeking first the face of God, trusting in the blood of Christ, and yielding to the power of the Spirit — not the focus.

This is not meant to sound pessimistic. I realize that when I say we will continually fail and face hardships, it can come across as bleak. But I’m telling you, battling the storms while understanding our utter hopelessness and resting in the power of Christ is infinitely more peaceful and invigorating and impactful than a thousand chaos-free days. He is our rest. He is our peace within the chaos. He is the means and the end. Don’t spend so much of your energy running from the mess that you’re too weary to run to him.

A Different To-Do List

But how do we do this? Knowing something means nothing if we aren’t letting it change us. We have to start right now. Ask him for help. It will look a bit different for everyone, but try putting aside your own list of things to accomplish today for just a few minutes, and make a spiritual to-do list. Here’s my own:

  • Before I even open my eyes in the morning, seek God’s face and bask in his presence. Awake, my soul. Turn my eyes, Lord, from things that are unworthy.
  • Before I climb out of bed and let my feet hit the floor, confess my sins and my weaknesses and mentally lean on him. Carry me, Lord, so I can accomplish your goals.
  • As I get dressed, beg God to cover my unworthiness with Christ’s righteousness. Lord, clothe me with your armor, because I need your power and protection for the dark parts of this day.
  • Before I gaze into a mirror or look at a screen or to a single thing of this world, pray that he will show me his glory and goodness today. That I will see it. And that I will reflect it.
  • As I sip my morning coffee or fill my belly, ask him to fill me with his Spirit and the joy of my salvation. That I would taste and see that he is good. That I would hunger and thirst for him.
  • As the world and the day get louder and louder, remember to stop and listen for the Spirit over the noise. Learn to recognize him.
  • When I find myself growing weary, run to my God any way I possibly can. Not to the world or to myself, but to him. Whether I read his words, worship him, pour out my heart to him, or ask his Spirit to pray on my behalf because I just can’t. And then repeat over and over again, until my mind effortlessly wanders to him.
  • Don’t let a single hour go by without asking God to sustain me. Not tomorrow, not next week, but right now. Set an alarm if I have to until it starts to come more naturally. Like breathing.
  • As I climb into my bed, look back and identify God’s providence woven throughout my day in both the good and the bad. Help me fall asleep praising him for his goodness to me.

Start Now

This is not something you learn, conquer, and move on. You can’t cross it off your list so you can tackle the next thing. I’m ashamed at how many times I’ve had to relearn this. How many wasted hours have gone by that I’ve forgotten him. How many days I’ve foolishly spent relying on my own strength and overlooking his presence. But if you didn’t seek him yesterday, seek him today. If you failed to look for his glory an hour ago, look for it now. If you forgot who gave you your last breath, remember who is giving you the next. Be still and know.

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