Tag Archives: prayer

Show Up, Kneel Down, Seek God {3 Things Real Friends Do}

“I wish the others could have come,” his small voice said wistfully from the backseat, “They would have liked to cheer me on.”

We were heading to Seattle for a dance competition, Nikko’s first with his all-boy hip-hop group.

Our weekend trips usually include all four kids and maybe a pet, a lot of pit-stops along the way, snacks, copious quoting from movies and at least an argument or two.

This was the most time Nikko had ever spent in a car with his parents and two full rows of seats all to himself. He might have been thrilled, but instead he was a little lonely, even for the conflict that siblings so readily provide.

I believe at the heart of Nikko’s response to the vast empty back-seat of the Honda was this: he is part of a community and community is part of him.

He has related this deep appreciation for other people who have been constantly in his life. His neighbor buddy from across the street has been his friend since diaper days. Not long ago Nikko said to me, “Mom, I can’t imagine my life without Christian. He has always been my friend.”

I love watching the appreciation and value of relationship develop in my children. It fosters a sense of belonging and interdependency. I love watching that happen in grown-ups, too.

This past week, seven men sat in my basement and prayed.

Busy men with grown-up responsibilities, families, jobs and commitments set aside everything for a few hours to meet in prayer for their friend who called for help. They bended knee, they embraced, they followed this instruction from Peter:

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety upon him because he cares for you. {1 Peter 5:5-6}

Then, they came upstairs and ate the leftovers from my family dinner and by this, made my simple ham and noodle dinner a holy feast.

And I stayed in my room for the beauty of it.

Because out there, in the kitchen, in the faces of my friends and my husband I saw Christ and the hard-fought humility of his love for us. It was too much for me, so I stayed back in my room and prayed this would be, for them, a night of memorial stones. A place they could each touch back to when they feel alone and in need of community.

Because we all need to be cheered on. We all need the companionship and challenge that our friends provide.

We need the family that bears the name of Christ to show up on doorsteps and in basements and into the lives of one another. We need the linking of arms because life is a battle and the enemy is persistent and the wounds reach deep enough that without those arms linked in a chain, the legs aren’t strong enough to stand.

***

Friends,

We’ve all been blessed and let down (even hurt) by members of our communities, families, churches. Might I encourage you to press on arm in arm with the people in your community and make yourself willing to participate in these three activities of Christian love?

1. Show Up

2. Kneel Down

3. Seek God

This never fails. It may be uncomfortable, but it is undeniably effective. If you don’t have friends that Show Up, Kneel Down and Seek God together, I encourage you to ask your Father in Heaven, who gives generously (James 1) to lead you to a community of imperfect people who seek the face of our perfect God. People who will do this with you and for you are your truest friends.

Blessings,

Alyssa

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The Secret of Those Who Truly Live {and how you can, too}

I’ve been rolling the word rescue in my mind the way one might roll a marble in her hand. It is round and has no edges or sides and moves at the slightest touch.

To be rescued is an event, an intervention, that is difficult to place on a shelf or the timeline of your existence where it can be easily displayed or pointed to with a proclamation, “Here is the day I was rescued.”

Sure, there was a day, a time, when I was rescued. I can point to August 14, 2011 about 10:30 p.m. and say, “that’s when everything changed.” It divided my life into before and after.

Yet being rescued in the intense way that I was, with tubes and oxygen, the deft hand of knowledgable surgeons, the flight of a helicopter, the call to prepare a table for my broken body, the prayers and the pumping heart, the shocked organs crushed and waiting repair, well, it defies defining. This kind of rescue cannot be carefully placed in a slot and hidden away like a photograph in an album.

This kind of rescue is worn like a band on my finger.

It is the salt in my tears.

It is borne in my scars and my smile.

It has become a part of who I had been before and who I must be forever after.

It is beyond defining because it has defined me.

And the question that any survivor, anyone who’s ever been hopeless and utterly dependent on the salvation brought by the hand of another, must consider is this:

What have I been saved unto? 

If I have been rescued from something, what am I rescued toward?

To deny the search for the answer to that line of query is, in my opinion, dangerous. It leads to some sort of slow death.

I can’t be in awe of every moment, every breath, every dazzling morning ray of sun filled with dancing dust, but I must be willing to be. This is the purpose of being rescued: to give the dying a chance to truly live.

Jesus said that “I come that you might have life and have it to the full!”

Do you know Jesus? Not just the name, but the person and deity that he is? Have you chosen to accept his salvation from a human life trapped in brokenness, sin and separation from God? If you have, you are my audience today. You are the rescued, the ones who claim the crazy nickname “born again believer” because there’s just no better way to describe it. Here is my question for you:

Are you living fully? Are you experiencing joy full-to-bursting in every aspect of your life?

Okay, maybe not every minute of every hour, for we still dwell in a broken place, but the real question is: are you willing?

Are you willing to see your salvation in Jesus as the very thing that defines who you were before and who you’ll be forever afterward? Or, is your marriage, career, education, political views, neighborhood, accomplishments, or your physical appearance shaping your life and informing your future?

Are you satisfied with the shallow puddle of peace as defined by the “absence of conflict” or are you willing to trust your Savior to have the power to provide peace that is so deep is passes all understanding?

Do you define your relationship with Jesus in tidy phrases that describe the time when you became a Christian at summer camp or sunday school or are you rolling rescue in your mind daily asking the One who’s saved you,

“Hey Jesus? So what have you saved me unto today?

Since I’m here and breathing air and thinking thoughts and eating good food, what have you got me here for today?

How can I be in your salvation fully this day in these relationships in this hour and in this place?”

Has your moment of rescue come in and made a mess of your life, wrecked your ideas and claimed your dreams and made your existence brilliant in the grace of it all?

I hope so.

That’s the only way to truly live.

Take it from me. I’ve been rescued.

***

Bless you friends, for reading my life in typograpy. I am thankful you’re here. I am praying for you. Live dazzlingly today.

Alyssa

Linked with FaithFilled Fridays

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In Times Like These

“You should know…there will be very difficult times.” 2 Timothy 3:1

There are times that you can’t finish a thought for all the thinking.

There are times you can’t see what’s coming next for peering into all the possibilities.

There are days that string together in order but without purpose.

There is the waiting that cannot be rushed.

There are prayers that say “help” on the inhale and “Lord” on the exhale and repeat with each breath.

There are the details that go unnamed because God already knows them, and requests unbidden because the answers are too divine.

There are the days you know you need a savior, and anchor, a line of truth to wrap round your soul and keep you from falling off the ragged edge of uncertainty.

Those days you need more than a cup of good, strong coffee, more than money in the bank account, more than even a word of grace from a friend.

You need Jesus.

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'Storm!' photo (c) 2009, Bruna Costa - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

There is a song we sung in my little Grace Brethren Church that’s been rolling around and repeating itself in my thoughts:

In times like these you need a Savior
In times like these you need an anchor
Be very sure, be very sure
Your anchor holds and grips the Solid Rock 

This Rock is Jesus, Yes He’s the One
This Rock is Jesus, the only One
Be very sure, be very sure
Your anchor holds and grips the Solid Rock

This hymn was written and composed by Ruth Caye Jones, and was inspired by 2 Timothy 3:1 This know also that in the last days perilous times will come. It was heard and praised by George Beverly Shea, the vocalist in the Billy Graham Crusades, and he sang it many times.

The wife of a minister and mother of five children wrote this hymn, it was said, one afternoon when she felt the Holy Spirit come upon her. Ruth Caye Jones was lovingly known in her area as Mother Jones and this hymn composer died in Erie, Pennsylvania on August 18,1972, of cancer. (Source, Amazing Grace by Kenneth W. Osbeck Kregel Publications Grand Rapids Michigan)

I think Mother Jones knew that when the dross of this world is burned away, we will find ourselves with this one gleaming truth: Jesus is the Only One. We just don’t recognize that truth for what it is unless we are “in times like these”.

Jesus is the glorious gift bequeathed to us at his own death and the miraculous hope revealed in his resurrection. Yes, he’s the One.

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Are you facing “times like these”? Can I pray for you? 

Are you grasping at straws, clinging to your own ideas or have you reached out and grasped hold of the anchor for your soul?

Linked with Jennifer, Shanda, and Heather and with KD at Painting Prose.

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Thoughts Before Dying

I do remember details in stunning clarity.

The gentle cool of the night air, a handful of stars on black satin sky. The cold, dull outer edge of the scissors as they moved up my leg and down the other. My clothes falling away. Vulnerable, helpless me left behind on a pallet.

Breathe.

I recall the shape and scent of the sterile plastic mask. I’d been given the responsibility to keep it near my nose and mouth.

Breathe.

But my arm kept reaching out to my savior, the man with the scissors, the one who asked me how to spell my name, the one who finally told me, “We’re going to do the breathing for you.”

And a woman, appeared at my left. Strong and reassuring she leant me the strength to ask the question she knew was coming, the question I never thought about asking before, “Am I going to die?”

Breathe.

I thought she was pretty. Had I a savior to my right and an angel on my left? Is this how it goes, then?

Breathe.

And no bright light at the apex of my vision, no strains of music.

Breathe.

Just the love. That’s really all there was in the focus of my mind. No lifetime memories flashing, no last-second regrets, no manifestation of flowing robes and shimmering gates.

Breathe.

Just the love.

The weight was crushing and the air, beautiful and summery and light as whispers, flowed and rippled around me but with all my strength I could not, could not draw it to me. And my mind and my heart and everything I had embraced those I love: my children, my husband, my everyone.

I knew so much and so little at that moment. But it came down to one truth:

I love as long as I breathe, and I keep trying to breathe so that I can continue to love.

Breathe….but not fear. It wasn’t fear my soul pushed away.

Hands working over me. Busy, saving, working, knowledgable, expert. Comfort. I felt comfort by the saving efforts, strength by my companions, hope in the tiny gulps of air. And certainty of  the truth of a good Creator.

He didn’t watch from a parapet on high, but served in the hands of my saviors. He responded to our concert of crying out: help! For six Santos’ looked beyond crushed metal and broken glass, hearts reaching through the fear and we knew God heard us.

This rest, this comfort, this electric place between panic and fear and truth and faith, this tiny square where the soul can stand in fortified confidence. This is the stake that drives faith into the heart’s hard ground and holds the flag that waves in the winds of life’s storms and flaps and snaps and says one, bold, relentless word: Love.

photo credit rgbstock

Friends,

I’ve been considering the last prayers of Jesus before he crossed the Kidron Valley, before he entered the quiet olive grove to wait for Judas to appear with the captors who would lead him to certain death.

We know the mystery that he prayed with such determined fervor and intensity that blood droplets formed and gathered and ran down his brow and sprinkled his beard.

We know he was with his closest friends and followers but they lacked the deeper understanding of this dark night and continued to fall asleep, leaving Jesus alone with his future.

We know that the Son of God, very God himself, asked for another way if there was one. But no bright light appeared to light a new path.

The hope of the cross was all he had left. And the strength gathered in the emptying would move his sandaled feet across the Kidron to his betrayer.

But look here: in the thin leaves of John 17.

“I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. Righteous Father, through the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”(vs 20-26)

He was thinking about us — you and me.

In his final moments he knew it came down to us.

When he looked past the dark horizon of his imminent death, he saw us: those who believe in him through the message of the Bible. He was overcome with love and concern and although he knew full well that there would be glory for him, he desired to share it with us, to bring us into this perfect rest and comfort and love.

He loves you that much, he really does. Don’t deny yourself the opportunity to know God, to understand in you spirit the fullness of this belonging, this love and completion. Whatever has stood in your way before, shrinks in the long and loving shadow of that cross.

Remember, in his final breaths of prayer, Jesus prayed for you.

Alyssa

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I Don’t Do Lent

I don’t do Lent.

More clearly, I do not observe the Lenten Season during the forty days before Easter (Resurrection) Sunday.

It seems an anti-Christian thing to admit, but there it is. And it’s hard for me to share because I am not one that enjoys conflict. I’m uncomfortable with controversy and division.

The three main practices of Lent, I thoroughly agree with: Fasting (to learn to rely more wholly on God), Prayer and Meditation (to contemplate the redemptive work on the cross by Jesus), and Giving to the Poor (emulating the example of Christ).

And further, I agree with most of Christendom that spiritual disciplines like prayer, fasting and giving to the poor are important to add action, or feet if you will, to one’s desire to imitate Christ in the desire to “decrease so that He may increase”. (John 3:30)

However, there’s a flurry of business about Lent that blows about and creates more of an atmosphere of religion than personal contemplation and intimacy with our savior.

It’s blustery and confusing to me and, like trying to see clearly in a dust-storm, and it makes it difficult to see why everyone’s doing it. As a life-long Christian kid, PK and over-thinker, when “everyone’s doing it” I’m instantly compelled to dig in my sneakers and ask my favorite question: Why?

Here’s my short list of why I don’t observe Lent:

1. Everyone talks about what they’re giving up for Lent.

People are posting and tweeting and discussing in the coffee line at church (unless, of course, coffee is the addiction they’re denying themselves, then they might not be there, maybe they’re in the restroom line or by the drinking fountain) what they’re giving up: TV, caffeine, red meat, sugar, dessert, or the wilder ones like cosmetics or comic books or texting.

But isn’t this in direct contrast to the teaching of Jesus, who’s very death we’re supposed to be contemplating?

Jesus said (paraphrase mine), If you’re fasting, don’t broadcast it. Keep it private and don’t piously appear deprived with the intent of being recognized that you’re depraved. (Matthew 6:16-18)

A few paces back in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches about giving to the poor: do it with subtle grace, and quietly, so as not to draw attention to yourself. (Matthew 6:2-4)

And Jesus has this to say about prayer: Pray often and in secret, and with your face and heart toward God using few words and an attitude of worship. (Matthew 6: 5-15)

2. Masses of people party like it’s 1999 before Lent.

I understand that most observers aren’t flashing rhinestone brassieres and doing jello shots the night before Lent, I really do.

But the idea that Fat Tuesday and Ash Wednesday are somewhat connected makes those of us who celebrate Christmas with gift-giving and hints of Santa Claus coming down the chimney look like Mennonites in comparison. Even in less grandiose fashion, Lent observers will order a steak dinner or a quad vanilla mocha the day before Lent begins, as a last hurrah of sorts. Is this the equivalent of a death-row criminal’s “last meal”? My whole life this has confused me.

The discipline of Lent is not to binge and purge as if we have a spiritual eating disorder, it is meant to help us adjust our fine focus on the outpouring of Jesus’ love for us.

Jesus said: Simply let your Yes be Yes. Just that (Matthew5:37); and be the lamps that shine my light into this world, doing love actively so that everyone can see and give praise to the Father (Matthew 5:16); and remember, unless your devotion to all things legally righteous surpasses even those who teach and dole out the word of the law, you’ll not see heaven, because I’m after a different kind of righteousness altogether (Matthew 5:20).

Righteousness wrought by the wringing out of Christ’s blood. This is the righteousness that Paul speaks of in Romans 6. The problem that divides us from God in the first place is sin, which the law revealed and Jesus, mercifully, freed us from remaining slaves.

Lent should inspire not the the giving up of small idols, like rock music or cola, and the premontory bacchanal practice of carnival (literally the end of meat) but the flinging off of pornography, pride, selfish ambition, contentiousness, gossip so we can run desperately, freely, naked of all sin, into the cover of his grace.

3. Lent lies in the shadow of the Old Covenant instead of in the Light of Grace.

The law was perfect and it’s main intent was to draw a framework for salvation and make a way for sinful humanity to come into right relationship with a perfectly Holy God. It was intended to protect and provide for the people of Israel, who were called by God, and anyone else who chose to become part of nation of God by submitting to it’s dictums. The law perfectly pointed to the coming of Messiah: the feasts, the sacrifices, the sad scapegoat–it all led to Christ Jesus (Leviticus and Numbers). He fulfilled the law (Matthew 5:17) and gave, with every precious drop of his blood this: GRACE.

Hebrew 10:11-18 explains the phenomena of grace in regards to legalism this way:

“Day after day every priest stands and performs his religious duties: again and again he offers the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But when this priest had offered for all time one sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God.

Since that time he waits for his enemies to be made his footstool, because by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy. The Holy Spirit also testifies to us about this. First he says:

“This is the covenant I will make with them after that time, says the Lord. I will put my laws in their hearts, and I wil write them on their minds.” Then he adds:

“Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more.”

And where these have been forgiven, there is no longer any sacrifice for sin.”

This is mercy undeserved and unearned. Romans 9:16 tells us succinctly, “It does not, therefore, depend on man’s desire or effort, but on God’s mercy”.

I know that most observers of Lent realize that salvation is a gift of grace, not of works, just like it says in Ephesians 2:8-9, however, why would we choose to do in a forty-day season three  disciplines that are to be a natural response to grace as we move and breathe as new creations in Christ Jesus?

All through scripture God makes it clear:

I desire contrition, not sacrifice and mercy always triumphs over judgement (Hosea 6:6, Matthew 9:13,James 2:12)

This is true religion, that you…. provide for the widows and the poor and live according to the moral system set before you by Christ (James 1:27).

It’s the work of the Spirit in you that enables you to do the good things I have planned for you. (Philippians 2:12-13)

Come near to Me, submit to my truth and learn from my love and I will come near to you. I always give more grace. (James 4:6-10)

We live in the full light of the grace and the perfect propitiation that the Law merely glimmered about. The inner rooms of the tabernacle, and the later the Temple, contained oil lamps and lampstands, symbols of the Light that was to come. John 1 tells us that the light has come! Jesus called himself the light of the world!

Why dance in the shadowy candle-flickers of something that could be legalism when we can move freely in the Light!

4. Lent falls short, because religion can’t save us.

A private, personal season of fasting, prayer, and giving beyond one’s personal norm is beautiful, transformational and good. Usually, these private seasons are prompted by the Holy Spirit and when we trust him enough to fall into his rhythm of grace, the emptying and the filling, the focus and purpose, then we become soft like clay in The Potter’s hands, ready to be made into something useful for his purpose and glory. (Romans 9:21)

But what, really, does asking a congregation of 400 to practice Lent during the forty days before Easter Sunday do? It forces conformation. It focuses on the saved and not the savior. It provides a feeling and sense of activity without guaranteeing all 400 church members are “all in”. It is a religious exercise. A well-intended and possibly productive exercise, but that is all.

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Lent very well should be the lifestyle we Christians choose year-round.

Yes, the observation of Lent and the ensuing Passion Week do, and rightly so, stir up our cooling embers and breathe life and fire into our souls. I get that. I understand that is at the heart of Lent.

But I know myself. I know my tendency to choose comfort. (Ephesians 5:29) I do it nightly when I crawl into bed, soft and downy and warm. I do it daily when I feed myself good food and drink fresh, clean water. I take vitamins and exercise and engage in healthy relationships and enjoy learning. I choose so much good for myself.

If I was really to practice Lent, would I choose to give up sugar (with the additional incentive of losing a few pounds?) or would I choose what’s really required of me, to live as Jesus did — with nothing but the clothes on his back  and in the end, giving everything and trusting God completely–relying on God for every breath?

That’s why Jesus knew to teach us this: Love me by loving others like you love yourselves.

He didn’t come to give us more religion. He doesn’t need our efforts of monasticism.

Jesus knows it’s in our nature to choose ourselves every time. Even when we choose for the good of others, we’re choosing to make it livable for ourselves. I think of the poor widow, who gave her last mite (penny) and was praised by Jesus (Luke 21:2). I think of Mary, sister of Lazarus, who poured out her life-savings on the feet of Christ to anoint him for his future burial, despite the harsh criticism of the disciples (John 11:2). I think, and I hope, that I am as devoted and desperately in love with my savior, but I know I fail more often that flourish in my worship of him.

That is the stinging, pervasive nature of this thing called sin, the disease that plagues us all and no discipline can eradicate–all, only Jesus, can accomplish this. Soli deo gloria.

Jesus fasted and fought the devil in the wilderness for forty days because he trusted the Father. He knew I couldn’t do that. As much as I might claim to live for him, everyone and God knows I couldn’t survive a day or two under those conditions (at best!)

I, myself, need to better understand God’s mercy and offer a contrite heart before I try to present a sacrifice of self-denial. I am encouraged by Paul to offer my whole self as an instrument of righteousness (Romans 6), and yes, a forty-day trial period can be revealing about what that requires. Paul knew better than anyone that this Christian lifestyle is an on-going business of submission, with plenty of failure mixed in. (What a comfort to read of Paul’s confession of his internal battle with self and sin in Romans 7:13-22.)

I want my whole living life to be lenten, little by little, as the Light shines in and the Living water washes over me. He alone saved me, transformed and gave me purpose.

I know He can make me soft-hearted, pliable and willing to serve Him, according to His will and timing.

And although I fail so often, Jesus knows I my heart’s desire is to honor his death that gave me life.

I ask for strength to live lentenly, lavishly, like He did.

Friends, I know many of you observe Lent and my intent is not to undermine the spirit of the observance. Like I said, I overthink and question and dig around. Let me know your thoughts, teach me, as we follow Christ together.

linking with Jennifer here — I love her stories and her heart

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