Streams in the Desert

      I’m so thankful God doesn’t change his mind about us like we so often do about each other and even him. Once he’s adopted us into his family, we’re his children forever -- no matter what we do or how we perform. He promises that he’s “loved us with an everlasting love,” and that he's engraved our name on the palms of his hands (Jer 31:3, Is 49:16).While he is disappointed and disciplines us when we don’t walk in the Spirit, he won’t ever give up on us or leave us (Deut 31:6).
      Though God’s unchanging character and  unconditional love are comforting, I still struggle many times to communicate with him. Sometimes it’s because of severe trials which leave me depleted of energy and joy. At other times it’s boredom as I allow myself to get into a rut in my quiet time and start praying out of habit instead of focusing on my relationship with him. And sometimes I let sin remain in my life, which leaves me feeling convicted and uncomfortable in his presence.
       The most challenging part of feeling disconnected from God is dealing with it as soon as possible so I don’t miss out on the blessings of his love and the fruit of the Spirit in my life. I’ve recently been having an extremely hard time praying, so much so that I’ve been giving up after about fifteen minutes, not managing to say more than a few words. While it’s taken several weeks to realize that I’ve started a pattern of avoiding him,  I’m beginning to make out glimpses from the past that are strikingly similar to what I’m experiencing now. In fact, I’m seeing that I’ve been in this same place many times before. It’s a spiritual desert where dust is flying and there’s no sign of water.  I know enough from the past that if I’m going to come through this dryness to a period of refreshing the worst thing I can do is to keep ignoring it. Instead, I desperately need to refocus on who God is, what he’s done for me and how he wants to use my life to make a difference in the world.
     “I know that my Redeemer lives” (Job 19:25).  Job wrote this in the midst of a spiritual crisis to remind himself that no matter how far away God seems, he’s living and ruling with power.  I may feel tired and burned out, but I also have confidence that God is alive and reigning from his position of power in the heavenly places (Ps 47:8). At the same time, he’s tenderly caring for each of his children, including me (Ps 103:13). He gave up his Son’s life in exchange for ours, and Christ traded his righteousness for our sins so that we could stand justified, purified and accepted before God. “He who knew no sin became sin so that we could become right with God (2 Cor 5:21). As I focus on who he is and what he’s done, my mind is overwhelmed by the extent of his love, and my heart begins to melt and soften as he draws me back into his presence.
     “Apart from him I can do nothing” (Jn 15:5). It’s easy to lose a sense of closeness by avoiding him, so that before long we’re filling his place with anything and everything else. He says in John 15 that the only way we’ll ever thrive is by staying in a vital, communing relationship with him. After many years as a Christian, it’s easy to forget what life was like apart from him. As I look back at chapters from the past I feel gratitude for all he’s done – lifting me out of the pit and putting a new song in my heart (Ps 40:2), establishing hope in place of despair and leading me down paths that have brought purpose to a once self-absorbed, destructive life. Not only that, but he daily sustains me by his unconditional, relentless love, grace and mercy. Apart from his salvation and the Spirit’s work, I know that I can do nothing of any spiritual significance. To venture into even one day without his transforming power means to choose a dry, tasteless life. It’s a really terrible alternative to the joy and fruitfulness I can experience by abiding in him (Jn 15:8, Gal 5:22-23).
     “With God all things are possible” (Mat 19:26). While I can’t do anything of any eternal significance apart from God’s grace and power, he promises that the possibilities are limitless if I’ll remain in his love (Jn 15:5). When I’m going through a desert like the one I’m in right now, I often lose the vision to be a light to others so that they can come to know the One who rescued me. Life apart from God morphs into a selfish existence, one that’s all about me and how I can sustain my fleshly comfort. But life in the Spirit propels me to a transformed way of living and loving so that I desire to take part in God’s greater purpose. He desires to pour out blessings on all his children, to daily enrich us with his Word and Spirit, not only for our own good but so that we'll move out of our protective comfort zone and into the sphere of influence he’s given us (no matter how small), freely sharing with others the message of his redeeming love.
      God wants me to remember these truths each day so that unlike the Israelites I don’t give up, forget hope and lose my footing. They’re foundational to challenging me to keep pressing into God and praying even when I don’t feel it. He wants to bring refreshing through streams in the desert, so that I'll learn to live and walk by faith. When I come out on the other side, I’ll have improved strength and courage along with  an ever growing confidence in his goodness and faithfulness.
       As I sit down once again and attempt to talk with him about what’s going on in my heart it’s painful. Snapshots of previous days spent avoiding him crowd my thinking as I vividly picture all the sins I’ve piled up. But he’s there with even greater influence, reminding me of what Christ has finished on the cross. Because of his death and resurrection I can now stand unashamed in his presence – fully loved, fully accepted and counted blameless, not because of anything I’ve done but because of his righteousness, which was a gift of his astounding grace (Eph 2:8-9, Phil 3:9). He looks at me right now, and instead of seeing my sins, he sees the purity of his own Son. With the reminder of these truths, I’m able to push past condemning thoughts (Rm 8:1) and the pull of indifference and once again fix my eyes on him. My heart starts to warm, my spirit feels hopeful. The dullness gradually gives way to expectancy as I once again experience his refreshing presence.

"I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water, the parched ground into springs" (Is 41:18)

Grace Exceeds the Sum of Our Fears

       In watching The Sum of All Fears last night I realized that the title as well as the plot spoke volumes about the Christian life and facing trials. While God is undoubtedly reigning and ruling the universe, even down to the tiniest molecule, the enemy has been given some measure of freedom to wreck havoc on creation and in God’s people’s lives for a season. Jesus conquered him on the cross, crushing his head and declaring eternal victory over his rule, yet his final destruction won’t occur until the end of time. So he works to create situations and to orchestrate problems that will stir up in us the sum of all our fears so that we’re left powerless, without a passion for God’s glory and his Kingdom.
     As I was watching the movie, I started thinking back on the times over the past 25 years as a Christian that I faced the most overwhelming sorrow and fear, when circumstances seemed to say there was no hope and I should give up. One common theme throughout these experiences was that they equaled the sum of my fears – those things I dreaded most in life. As I reflected on them, I saw that in the middle of these earthshaking, emotion-gripping experiences God beautifully sustained me, provided for all my needs and never allowed me to be destroyed as I’d imagined.
     It's easy to look at past tragedies and say, “But I was left to suffer intensely.” These memories of rigorous suffering block us from seeing and appreciating the greater reality that God did provide relief, healing, restoration and deliverance after a season. The fact that we had to experience those things we dreaded most can leave us with a rift with God and an uncertainty that we can trust him to take care of and protect us in the future. If this happens, we tend to lose our passion to live for his Kingdom and his will and gravitate instead toward self preseveration and comfort. We lose our saltiness and begin to look and act like the rest of the world instead of who we are – children of the most amazing God of the universe.
     When I was a young girl I was raped repeatedly and no one was there to stop it or to protect me. That experience shaped me for the next ten years, and though I’ve been through a lot of healing it’s something I’ll never forget. I’ve wondered why that had to happen to me, why my parents divorced when I was small and my father wasn’t interested in getting to know me, why I struggled with certain things that others didn’t have to endure. Then I wondered for many years why God waited so long to bring me the husband I so wanted, why he allowed us to go through severe testing in the ministry, why he let me suffer from chronic fatigue for up to five years. I wondered why our daughters had certain struggles, why we had to move to Korea when I never wanted to leave the country, why others would ever do and say things to me that were so hurtful. And the list goes on.
     I’ve faced my greatest fears on more than one occasion. But the sum them does not equal defeat. They only represent the middle of the story, rather than the end. When reading any good novel, I rarely give up at a point of great tragedy, since it’s obvious that the author has a plan to reveal more details and likely to bring about change. In fact, I’m usually so sure of a better ending that I skip to the last few pages for reassurance that everything is going to somehow be sorted out and redemption will follow distress and loss.
     As Christians, we know that God promises to sort everything out in the end, that when we enter his presence all sorrow and pain will be removed. But even in this life we’re promised that God will restore us from trials, that he’ll be there with great power to lift us up out of the pits of life and bring deliverance, renewed strength, and a deeper understanding of his unfathomable love. For a season we may face our greatest fears, but he guarantees they won’t consume us. Joy will come in the morning. In 1 Peter 5:10, we’re given this promise: “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” In reflecting on my past tragedies I can see the “already” of him working them out for good. He’s never abandoned me, never left me in a pit. He’s always, at the right time, lifted me up and brought about life-transforming restoration. Though the painful memories are sometimes more present than I’d like, he even uses these to give me compassion for others who are suffering through similar trials (2 Cor 1:3-11). He takes every ingredient in the enemy’s attempt to bring destruction and makes a redemptive masterpiece in its place.
     In light of this reality it makes no sense to dwell on the trauma experienced in the middle of suffering, but rather to focus on the ensuing chapters when God begins putting the pieces back together in a healing and restorative way. I, like you, may have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but we don’t have to allow the enemy or our emotions to distract and terrify us with the sum of all our fears. Instead, we can be certain that as Christians our trials never have a tragic ending. God reaches down, every time, and redeems what looks impossibly broken, no matter how terrible it appears. He gives us beauty for our ashes, and makes everything lovely in his time (Is 61:3, Ecc 3:11). With this certainty, we have all that we need to face today and the rest of our lives with courage and confidence. While we can’t predict what will happen, we know that God has promised that he’ll not only get us through it, but that we’ll come through with great victory (1 Jn 5:4).

Peace Be Still!

     After a long walk on the oceanfront trail, we decided to stop for yogurt on the way home. That’s when my friend discovered her wallet was missing and that she'd probably left it in the taxi on the way to our apartment. Since there are hundreds of different taxis swarming Busan, she couldn’t remember the details about the cab, but she did know that she had several credit cards, her ID and a lot of cash in the wallet. Our hearts sank as we realistically assessed the possibility of ever getting it back.
     After praying, shock slowly gave way to wisdom as God showed us clearly what steps to take: Contact the security guard at the gate with the information and her number in case the taxi returned, call a friend to get the number for the bank, go get her bank book so we could run an update and be sure no one was using the card. While this was happening, God sent one of my best students down the hill. After explaining the situation to him, he joined us in the car as we went back to my friend’s apartment so that she could get the details about her credit cards. As she was upstairs getting information, a police car drove up and two smiling officers got out holding up a wallet and saying my her name. (Earlier Mark had received a call from one of them, since he’d given my friend his business card months ago. But we couldn’t understand him.)
     Thankfully, all her cards were intact, with only the money missing. Though it was a stressful two hours, God was doing so much in each of our lives to teach us incredible lessons and remind us of his faithfulness. I started thinking about how I use the cut and paste option so often in dealing with computer documents and wondered, “What if I were to cut and paste this situation and God’s faithfulness and love demonstrated in it to other situations that were more challenging and lasted longer than two hours, maybe for months and years. And what if in doing so I pasted the anxiety that overtook me for the first hour as we wondered if she’d ever get the wallet and her credit cards back? How much joy and peace could I lose? What if instead I chose at the beginning to praise and thank God for the victory he was going to provide, though I couldn’t be sure what it would entail, so that when he did give an answer I hadn’t lost so much time fretting?”
     Since God showed up in the recovery of her wallet, it’s only logical that he’s here with us in the larger problems like disease, death, loss of a job or home, a rebellious child, loneliness and depression. It’s natural to grieve and to feel fear and even to experience waves of anxiety (something that unfortunately happens to me often in trials). But we do make a choice about whether we’re going to live or remain in the fear. Feeling these emotions is something we can’t control; embracing them and letting them define us is. God commands and exhorts us not to be afraid or terrified (365 times “fear not” is mentioned in the Bible), because he doesn’t want us walking around living like we’re scared to death about anything, even the Goliath’s in our lives. Why? Because he’s absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, going to intervene on our behalf. It’s not something we can only hope for, but a promise he’s made that he will rescue and deliver us, that he takes delight in caring for his children (Ps 50:15, Ps 91:14, Zeph 3:17, 2 Tim 4:18, 2 Cor 1:10).
     One of my favorite reminders of this is in Psalm 18 where David uses a metaphor to describe God’s zealous passion to protect and rescue his children. God mounts his chariot, riding through the clouds with flames coming out of his nostrils. He shoots arrows, scatters the enemies and then achieves his ultimate goal from the start: “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support. He brought me into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” (Ps 18:16-19.
     This is sometimes hard for us to wrap our minds around isn't it -- that God delights in rescuing, protecting and providing for us. But he says it persistently in his Word. In fact, the Bible paints a continual picture of God reaching down, a zillion times it seems, and lifting his beloved out of pits, restoring their hope, healing them, giving them comfort and repeatedly exhorting them not to fear because he’s with them.
     Yahweh, the great I AM, the God who parted waters, knocked down strongholds, defeated powerful armies, healed diseases and raised his Son from the dead, is with us, living inside us by his Spirit and even taking hold of our right hand (Is 41:13). He says in Isaiah 41:14, “I myself will help you.” He’s not too important to snatch three men from a fire or to deliver one of his children from the lion’s den. He’s never too preoccupied to take care of a lonely woman at a well or to meet a worn out prophet in the wilderness and encourage him. His compassion toward us is so immense that it surpasses knowledge (Ep 3:19). We look at our children when they suffer and do everything we can to alleviate their trials. God looks at our suffering and in wisdom does what is necessary to not only comfort and help us but to allow us to learn and grow from the difficulty.
     God’s call to us today is to remember his unfathomable love and faithfulness in the past, to cut and paste the reality of it onto our present situations so that we can relax and know he’s God (Ps 46:10). The waves may try to overtake us and the fire may threaten our destruction, but God says, “Peace be still” (Mk 4:30). By standing on his promises, we can enter his rest, even in the most troubling times.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go" (Jos 1:9).

Love Never Fails!

      In class we’ve been talking about different scenarios and how we’d respond to them. One of our questions was, “What would you do if you hit someone’s car in a parking lot and no one was there to see it happen?” The responses of the students included everything from taking responsibility for the accident and leaving a note on the car to driving off quickly so no one could catch them. One student, a leader in our class, overheard some joking about it and said out loud, “I would not just drive off. If I did, I’d be trash.” In his mind, trash meant someone who had no code of ethics, someone who wasn’t committed to honoring Christ’s values over the world's.
     I know in the states we often use the word trash in a somewhat different context, but I appreciated his remark and it stuck with me as we were talking later that week about loving our enemies. Jesus said that if we love those who love us we’re no better than the tax collectors (Matt 5:46). Most of my students haven’t heard of a tax collector, so they just stared back at me with blank faces. Because I don’t know the Korean word for tax collector, I decided to use Jason’s word as a substitute and said, “If we only love those who love us, we’re no better than trash.” They immediately made the connection, and started nodding their heads.
     We started talking about what it means to love our enemies, to pray for those who abuse and misuse us and do all kinds of evil toward us. Jesus says we’re to bless them; not curse them. We’re to do good to them; not return evil for evil (Matt 5:44). The students and I know, without even having to say a word, that this kind of love is impossible apart from the grace and mercy of God. Our natural inclination is to get people back, put them in their place when they hurt us, demand retribution and make them suffer for any harm they’ve caused us. We often get revenge by passive and active aggression, which includes everything from ignoring the person to telling lies about them to destroy their reputation. Because it comes so naturally, it often feels good – at first. But after the dust settles, and the Spirit of God begins to work in our hearts, conviction sets in and we feel grieved. We lose the joy and peace of God and begin to live a fruitless, angry, bitter existence. Until we repent and walk in love, our lives lose their fragrance and vitality.
     On the other hand, if we dare to believe God that loving and blessing our enemies is the way to grow in grace, honor him, advance his Kingdom and even, many times, win the hearts of those who despise us, then we’ll be amazed at what happens. We may not see the results for weeks or even years. In fact, initially, we’ll often feel like we’re the big loser since we’re giving up the right to fight back with anger. But as we step out in faith through each interaction taking thoughts of evil and revenge captive to the obedience of Christ and refusing, by his grace, to retaliate, we’ll experience an ever increasing joy and peace and even love for those who we have absolutely no human reason to love. We begin to see the miracle of God’s grace unfolding as he opens more doors for us to share this truth with others, to encourage them to love, and we’re given a new spiritual freedom beyond our understanding to live abundant lives for the glory of God.
     Love never fails (1 Cor 13:12)! God always has and always will bless faith and obedience to his Word. He says in Psalm 23 that he “prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies.” He says also that he knows how to rescue the righteous from trials and from the wicked (2 Pet 2:9). It’s his job to avenge, not ours (Rom 12:19). It’s his great joy to lift up those who are oppressed and downtrodden, to anoint our heads with oil so that our cup of joy overflows. He’s our fortress, our deliverer, our refuge and our Lord. As he goes before us, he guarantees that “no weapon formed against us will prevail” and that he will fight our battles for us (Is 54:17, 2 Chr 20:17). We can relax and know that he means what he says, that as we pray for and bless our enemies and praise him for his faithfulness to his Word we’re already overcoming evil and taking part in the most incredible work on earth – being living vessels of his supernatural love. With this, our heart cry becomes, “May your Kingdom (of love and righteousness and peace) come. May your will be done.”

 “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." Jn 13:35

Fully Alive

     Life is one of the most valuable gifts we’ve been given. God masterfully created each of us in his own image with unique talents, personalities and purpose. His greatest desire is that we find meaning in him so that we’re able to radiate his glory and experience fullness of life. As we daily abide in Christ, we become passionate about investing our lives and using our gifts in a important way that has eternal significance. We’re no longer content to live each day according to the world’s standards or simply for ourselves. Instead, our heart longs for significance and purpose – that God will use us to have an impact on the world.
     While we’re born with little understanding about God’s plans for us, as we mature we develop an increasing sense that we were created for a specific reason to fulfill a calling we’ve been given. God puts this longing within our hearts to do something beyond ourselves for his kingdom. Though sometimes we lose sight of this vision through setbacks and disappointments, deep inside we know we were made for something far greater than mere existence. We may or may not possess what others consider extraordinary talents, but we’ve each been given gifts. As we enter into a personal relationship with God through Christ, he helps us discover and develop these gifts and shows us how we can use them in life transforming ways.
     Imagine that we’re standing before two closed doors and can’t see what lies beyond them. One door has a sign that says, “Your plans and future the way you want it.” The other door reads, “God’s plans and his future for you.” Which one will we choose? The promise of the first door is tempting, because by entering it we think we’ll become the master of our lives and be given the power to make our dreams come true. It offers us the chance to design our lives the way we envision them.  The second door requires a leap of faith, because by entering it we agree to surrender our right to determine our future.  We give our lives over to God in trust and confidence that he’ll guide us down the right path to pursue the dreams and goals he has gifted us to fulfill. He guarantees that though we will have trials, our lives will overflow with a deep sense of purpose, power and love.
     When we choose the first door we become lord of our lives with a focus on how we can control and direct everything. We chase after things we believe will bring satisfaction and happiness, whether it’s money, relationships, power or position. In order accomplish what we want, we devise short and long term goals and pursue them with relentless passion, since attaining these goals is the core of our hope and future. However, the promises of this lifestyle are deceptive. When we reach our dreams apart from a relationship with God, we discover that it’s impossible for them to ever satisfy the deep longing of our hearts. In fact, the more we achieve the more dissatisfied and even miserable we become, because with each success we develop the insatiable desire for more. Life becomes an endless cycle of setting goals, striving to accomplish them and then pursing something bigger and better. On the other hand, when our plans don’t work out like we expected we are often struck with disappointment, frustration and even anger. Whether we succeed or fail at receiving what we think we want, we’re left with emptiness in our soul that magnifies the fact that we were created for something far greater, something much more significant.
     This emptiness often leads us to the second door, where we discover that there is an awesomely good, loving and powerful God who wants to free us from this vicious cycle of self destruction and striving after idols that can never satisfy. He daily calls out to us to put our trust in his Son, Jesus Christ, and stop depending on our own understanding. He says that if we’ll acknowledge him in all our ways, he will direct our paths and fulfill the deep desires of our heart (Prov 3:5-6). But following him comes with a cost. We have to release the plans we’ve so tenaciously held on to in the past and trust him to give us all that’s good for our lives – blessings that will benefit us holistically and bring him glory.
     God says in Jeremiah 29:11 that he knows the plans he has for us, plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future. This is not a promise for financial prosperity or an easy life but instead a guarantee that God is always working everything (even the small details) for our ultimate good and his glory. As our loving Father, he genuinely cares about us, so much so that he’s numbered the hairs on our head and stores our tears in a bottle. He knows every desire we have, and as a father has compassion on his children so God has compassion on us. Because his love is perfect, he knows exactly what gifts to give us and how to take care of all our needs.
     In a world where we’re told to pursue power, possessions and prestige, we’re faced with challenging decisions about how we’ll invest our lives. Will we follow the dictates of the world, or will we follow God? Will we seek to live life our way, or will we live it God’s way according to his plans? There are two doors, two roads, and two completely different ways of life. The first door often seems like the right one, but the Bible says it ends in misery and eventually death.  The other door leads to life, peace and a future filled with purpose, along with many tests and trials to prove our faith. When we enter this door through trust in Jesus Christ and a surrendered heart, we begin to experience the abundant and eternal life we were created to have. We become fully alive! 

Life is Messy, but God Redeems All Things

 Life is messy, isn’t it? We’re born in a sterile world, greeted with radiant smiles of delight, and immediately given everything we need for life and comfort, if we’re blessed with loving parents. Our own children experience this same miraculous beginning. But we discover within hours that though we’re awestruck by the miracle of their birth, it's going to be a complicated adventure. I’ll never forget the first dirty diaper our older daughter produced and the look on my face when I saw it! As the years passed, laughter was intermingled with tears, fresh smocked dresses often gave way to mud stained pants from hours of play outside. Clean windows soon displayed handprint artwork and face smudges. Fast forward to the teen years when one minute’s excitement almost instantly fades to emotional outbursts of disappointment over some overlapping experience. We discover, not just in the beginning, but all along the journey, that life is both beautiful and messy.

I remember the days leading up the birth of both daughters and all the promises I made to God that I’d do everything I could to protect, provide for and love them, teaching them to adore him with all their hearts. I dove in with great anticipation and a sense of assurance that my parenting would far exceed anything I could imagine -- not because I thought I was invincible, but because someone greater was fueling this desire and longing in my heart. Over the years, I saw God do the miraculous as he took my prayers, transformed them by his power, and developed character, love and hope in our children. It wasn’t easy or clean like I’d imagined; it was complicated and messy, but God was at work nonetheless.

Being a mom has honestly been the most fulfilling and rewarding experience of my life. I’ve said it many times and mean it that if I could go back and parent the girls ten more times I’d joyfully do it -- provided I could turn back the clock and have the same energy I had in the beginning. With each time, I’d likely grow wiser and do a better job in many areas, but as many do overs as I was given I’d never be able to escape the reality that life is messy and complicated and I’ll never be perfect. Living in a redeemed yet broken world means that there will always be interlocking joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, gain and loss, met and unmet needs, life and death. Like two sides of a coin, they remain together.
 

As the girls have grown up and are entering a new phase of life, they’ve opened up and shared with me areas where they’ve had extreme disappointment and even anger because of things I’ve done or not done. I’m honored that they feel the freedom to speak the truth in love to me so that we can grow together and move past the pain. In many ways I’ve needed to ask forgiveness for botched parenting, sin patterns that I ignored or was blind to that negatively impacted them. However, my initial response was defensive anger and shock that they’d consider finding fault with what I worked so hard to do well.  As the anger diminished, I was able to face the truth of what they were saying, which freed me to look back at those snapshots over the years and admit that I was wrong, that I didn’t in many cases do what was wise or right, that even though I did a lot of good, it was mixed with some really bad decisions and actions that hurt my children. This insight gave way to grief, repentance (I pray), and a renewed sense of God’s grace and forgiveness as well as his promise it’s never too late to change.
 

After the worst storm, the sun shines brighter and everything has a fresh new sparkle. That’s what it felt like when these truths, painful ones, were spoken in love. First came the clouds, then the torrential rain. But the story didn’t, doesn’t, stop there. Joy and hope are shining brighter in my heart as I accept the reality that I’ll blow it many more times over the next twenty or so years. I’ll do a lot of things wonderfully well as a mom, but I’ll also miss the mark and bring sorrow into their lives when my intention is the opposite. My hope is no longer in my parenting perfection, but in God’s promise that as I cling to him, walk in in his Spirit and trust him and his promises, he’ll make everything, even my extreme blunders, beautiful in his time.

 Though I didn’t mention it in the post, both girls and my husband have also shed tears over the wrong choices and attitudes they’ve had in the past and asked my forgiveness. God is taking us all through a season of cleansing, healing and forgiveness for which we’re all thankful. We haven’t arrived by any means, but God’s Spirit is at work, giving us grace to speak the truth in love and forgive deeply from the heart.

“Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.” Eph 4:15

"I Love the Lord Cause He Heard My Voice"

     I’ve been told by some of my family and even my closest friends that I have an “ugly cry.” It’s one where I scrunch up my whole face, turn down the corners of my lips, open my mouth and bawl. I’d never looked at myself in the mirror before when I cried, so I was clueless about what they were talking about. When I finally got the courage to test their theory, I quickly and even shockingly admitted they were right -- my crying was downright ugly!
     That said, I have a Father who daily, hourly “hears my prayers and sees my tears” (2 Kings 20:5). He listens, cares deeply, and works on my behalf at all times. I have a God who loves me no matter what I look like even when I’m crying, regardless of how much I’ve failed or how weak I am. His love is more solid than any mountain and can't be moved or shaken by anything I or anyone else thinks, does or fails to do (Is 54:10). I have the awesome privilege of going to him at any time of the day with fears, requests and even childish demands, with the certainly that he’s always there -- fully present and engaged, rejoicing over me, delighting over my life and finding great joy even in my tears. He knows that while my weeping may last for a night, his joy will come in the morning as I bring my pain to him and trust him to help and bring healing (Ps 30:5).
     I love the Lord because he hears my voice, because he first loved me (1 Jn 4:19), because he guarantees that nothing can come between this bond of love (Rom 8:38-39), and because he promises that his great, amazing, unstoppable love is also eternal -- no matter what (Jer 31:3).

"I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live." (Ps 116:1)

Christ Our Treasure

     I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier than when we landed in the Dallas airport on July 18^th and the guy in customs asked if we were US citizens. After we nodded yes, he said with a perfect Texas drawl, “Welcome home.” I thought about kissing the ground, but knew it would cause a scene and Mark and I were both too tired for that. Instead, I quietly took my place in the line designated for citizens with a thankful heart that this was my home and I was welcome back even after being gone for almost three years.
     Living in Korea changed me more than I realized. In fact, it wasn’t until coming back to the states that I could see how God masterfully used all the struggles of living abroad to mold me into a different person. When I left America, I felt like I was losing everything….my house, friends, hometown, the comforts of living in a place that was familiar to me. But as the days spilled into weeks this summer, I’ve realized that God wanted me to leave these things behind so that I could gain a new perspective on life and experience more fully the freedom he bought for me in Christ.
     Like most everyone else in the world I long for security so that I don’t have to fear what tomorrow brings. It’s so easy to convince myself that the obsession to control and possess people and things is a necessary solution for this need for security. I reason that because every woman wants a nice home it’s okay if I make that a priority. Or because money is essential for life, it’s normal that I’m constantly focused on how much I have. But instead of the steady focus bringing comfort and helping me conquer fear it enslaves me to the things I pursue, causing me to lose passion and perspective about why I’m actually on this earth. I used to think my purpose in life was to marry a nice man, have beautiful, intelligent children, live a comfortable life and amass as much “stuff” as I could so that I could live out my final days on earth in comfort and ease. This seemed to be the way everyone else was doing life, even in the church, so I categorized it as normal and set out to make it my goal. But God had a different plan.
     When we moved to Korea, we decided to leave everything behind except for two suitcases each which we carefully packed. We arrived at our apartment to find it sparsely furnished with simple beds, a kitchen table and a couch -- no pictures, rugs, bric-a-brac, curtains. Just a bare apartment that was about one third the size of our previous home. No yard, no trees, no grass.  We did what most people would do and went out to try to find “stuff” to put in our apartment to make it home. We learned where to shop to buy “stuff” to wear and “stuff” to eat and “stuff” to decorate with. But no matter what we put there, we couldn’t deny the fact that it wasn’t what we were used to.
     There have been times when I’m cooking in our small kitchen at a counter that seems designed for midgets  or looking out over the patchwork gardens and cement houses where people are barely making ends meet that I want to shake myself, hop on a plane and run for home. But then I remember what it is that God has been slowly teaching me these past three years – that as much as I love America it’s not going to make me happy. No matter how much it comforts me to be there, he’s placed a longing in my heart for something more. The Spirit witnesses with my spirit most every day that God has a plan for my life and purposes for me that transcend the walls of a home or earthly comforts. He wants me to learn to live by faith and depend on him in an ever increasing way. Sometimes he accomplishes this through simple things, other times he takes me to a far off place where I have nothing but him and he once again reminds me about my ultimate goal – to live and move and have my being in him.
     I’m learning to say what the apostle Paul said in Romans 14:8, “If I live, I live for Christ. If I die, I die for Christ. Whether I live or whether I die, I live or die for Christ.” It often helps when I’m feeling sorry for myself or worrying about tomorrow to take it a step further and say. “If I have a home or don’t, have money or am broke, am healthy or sick, have a good or a bad job, lose all I hold dear or am blessed with much, I belong to Christ and he alone is my treasure.”
     With this focus, my thinking is realigned with God’s perspective. I’m reminded that I’ve died with Christ and am now raised up with him to live a new life in a new way with new goals and purposes (Col 3:1-11). I don’t have to strive for and fret over what’s going to happen to me because he’s guaranteed  through the blood of Christ that he’ll never leave me or forsake me (Matt 6:31).  He promises that if I seek him first he’ll give me everything I need (Matt 6:33). If I make him my treasure, I’ll be filled with joy unspeakable, a heart at peace and a purpose driven life that far exceeds anything I can strive after or achieve on my own (Ps 1:3). 
     When I do finally die one day, I don’t want to be remembered as someone who clung desperately to this life. Instead I want to be remembered as someone who really believed the Gospel and lived like it was the greatest reality in the world. I want to be able to say to God (by his grace and the power of his spirit) over and over again and mean it, “I’ll go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do, be who you want me to be because you’re my Lord and my God. You’re my treasure.”

Randy Alcorn on the Treasure Principle. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDmS3sDFouk

Judgment Without Mercy

“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Matt. 7:2

No one likes being judged. It feels rotten, especially when we look into someone’s eyes we once experienced warmth and acceptance from, only to find a cold stare instead. We can often sense this judgment without words, and it’s painful to say the least. But acting as judge over others can be habit forming as it gives us temporary comfort. We look at a person’s circumstances and the decisions they’ve made, then get out our pen and paper and begin scratching down equations that place our victim in some kind of manageable category. These judgments become the tools we use to make sense of failures and imperfections. They lull us into believing that we 'll prevail in the face of similar challenges -- if we’ll but respond differently.

I’ve been on both the giving and receiving end of merciless judgment, and I’m learning the reality of Matt. 7:2. God is teaching me just how terrible it feels to be judged so that I might repent of a lifelong pattern of sizing others up to make myself feel and look better. I realize that behind judgment is the desire to play God, to “figure his plans out”, to exalt myself and to calm anxiety over future uncertainties. If I’m able to blame the person for the mess they’ve gotten themselves into, it keeps me from fearing that I’ll end up in the same predicament.

Though I have no idea how God orchestrates it, I know he means business in fulfilling this promise: “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged.” If I choose to show justice with no mercy, God will allow me to know similar merciless justice, not because he wants to destroy me, but because he wants me to grow and repent. I’ve spent many years blaming certain people in my life for their mistakes and feeling superior in many ways because I don’t have the same weaknesses. But God is showing me that my weaknesses, though different, are just as sinful and harmful to others.

I woke up this morning with a broken heart over my sin. This is nothing short of miraculous, since I’ve been able to hide it by focusing on the shortcomings of others. I don’t know why God decided to break through to my stony heart this morning, or why the revelation hurts so much, but I’m thankful for what he’s doing. As much as I hate looking at my sin, and as much as I want desperately to deny its reality, I want more than anything to change. I want to leave judgment to God, to put away my assessment tools and let God be the judge.

God's Unsearchable Ways

     About twenty five years ago, I drove up to a massive church building in Jackson, MS, where I began training in Evangelism Explosion. I’d been a Christian for about a year and wanted to learn how to share the Gospel with friends and family. I still remember the small perforated note cards that I tore apart, put on a ring and carried with me for the next six months. The same note cards traveled with us in various boxes and drawers through all our moves over the past eighteen years. Often, the only time I looked at them was when I was rummaging around for something else.
     Last year, I came across them again but in a uniquely different way. Since we didn’t bring any of our belongings with us when we moved to Korea, the note cards were left behind in some unmarked box in our storage room. God was giving me a newfound desire to share the Gospel with my students, so I spent time searching the internet for presentations that were in both English and Korean. That’s when I stumbled across the Evangelism Explosion website, wrote a note to someone asking for more  information and received my very first copy of the presentation in Korean!
     Just last week, as we were finishing up the semester, I pulled out my computer copy of EE and passed around the Gospel to the students in their own language. After sharing in my classes, it dawned on me that God doesn’t waste anything. The training I received so long ago and had almost forgotten became a useful tool in a country I never dreamed I’d be living in. But God knew. He knew when he led me to that first class in Mississippi that I would one day share the same message in Asia.
     I'm astounded by God's wisdom and sovereignty in orchestrating situations like these. It gives me great comfort as I look at other seemingly forgotten endeavors I’ve stuffed in a drawer somewhere. If God doesn’t waste anything, then I can count on him to use these life experiences in ways I could never have imagined.  I can trust that even though I have no idea what my future holds, I belong to a God who is able to masterfully put together bits and pieces from my past and make them into something beautiful to bless others in the present.

“Oh, how great are God's riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways!” Rom 11:33

 

 

Up from the Ashes

     I've never lost a home to a fire, but I’ve witnessed my grandmother's possessions burn to the ground leaving almost nothing behind. All those years of stored memories and treasures were gone in an instant; their charred remains lay unrecognizable on the ground. As my family stood helplessly by wondering how they could surmount such a loss, I was confident that over time, with God’s help, they would find healing and renewal.
     That hope, or certainty, that God will step in and restore what’s been lost is what propels me on each day as I wake up in a place that’s not my home with an ache for our daughter who is thousands of miles away. As our older daughter, who is now a senior, dashes about trying to get out the door in time for school, I’m reminded that she too will be off to college soon, leaving me with an empty home and heart. As these scenarios play out in my mind, it’s only through God’s promises that I find comfort and understanding. God is good and overflowing with compassion. I believe that with all my heart. I know that He looks upon my losses with tenderness, but the house continues to burn. So I struggle to make sense of it; I wrestle to merge the reality of life’s disappointments with his promises.
        At the moment, I’m standing outside looking up at the smoke, watching much of what I’ve worked for seemingly disappear into nothing.  The fumes burn my eyes as I strain to assess what’s salvageable. I see remnants of memories scorched by the fire, too damaged to keep but still reminding me of life in that place we once called family. I can’t sit here forever. God is calling me to come, to rise up from the ashes and to follow him, my husband and my daughters as they continue on their faith journey.
     The sun shines brilliantly over the horizon as I finally pick up my suitcases and turn to follow. Mark keeps calling and motioning for me to come; I hear the girls’ laughter and see their dancing figures ahead. With each step the air becomes fresher, clearer. The dread that held me back gives way to a sense of courage as I look upon the beauty and freedom in the distance.  On the ground just beneath my feet tiny flowers are starting to bloom. Tips of pink, yellow and violet peek from under their dusty brown covering, promising new life. I glance at the sunshine sparkling on the water and the trees peacefully swaying in the wind, then back down at the delicate buds on the verge of something miraculous. God reminds me that he’s got a good plan for my future, one I didn’t see or understand, but one filled with meaning and purpose. Hope is calling me up from the ashes-- not to forget the past, but to turn my gaze upon his promises so that I can be fully alive in the present and future -- free to build new memories and experience his joyful restoration.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer 29:11

Freedom Comes in Letting Go

This is one of my favorite lines from J.J. Heller’s new song Loved. She’s singing about releasing hurt and pain and embracing the reality that we’re extravagantly loved by God in Christ. Knowing God’s love is the only catalyst that can motivate us to truly let go of hurt and ironically it’s only as we surrender our hurts to him that we can fully experience the depth of his love for us. Yet some trauma penetrates so deeply into the recesses of our souls that it almost refuses to budge. Like a cancerous growth, it zaps more and more of our strength and energy and leaves us feeling less than whole.

I’ve experienced this kind of trauma as a child and left it buried for almost twelve years. In fact, I’d spent so much energy denying that it happened that the act of finally facing it down, giving the trauma a name and talking about it, was like having open heart surgery. I still remember the first time that I shared my story of being sexually abused with a counselor.  Fear and shame had worked for so long to keep me silent, but God’s love prevailed, giving me the desire to expose the darkness and let the secret out

The healing process was slow, but the more I looked at the truth in light of God’s love and acceptance, the more I was able to move forward in hope that I could be healed. Talking it out, praying and memorizing God’s promises all helped me to see and believe that it was not only over, but that God planned to use it for good if I’d trust him. Letting go of the pain after facing it was a process that involved turning over my abusers to the Lord’s judgment with confidence that they would be held accountable by him, even if no one on the earth besides me knew about what they did. Once I released them, I was finally free to heal.

I thought that living through something that horrible meant I wouldn’t have to experience any further trauma in life.  But I was wrong. I don’t know where I got this idea– it certainly wasn’t from the Bible where God shows mankind often suffering multiple traumatic events in the course of a  lifetime. On center stage, of course, is Jesus who was repeatedly rejected, chased down, finally captured, beaten and crucified. His resurrection is God’s guarantee that while trauma can momentarily defeat us, it ultimately won’t destroy us if we’ve found our hope in him.

Over the course of the past few years I’ve allowed new trauma to stir up fear and shame in my heart once again. And I’ve stuffed so much of it, that until recently I didn’t even know what was wrong except that I felt intense sorrow. Instead of expecting God to do something amazing, I've found myself expecting something terrible to happen, waiting for the bomb to drop any second. Yet, God is encouraging me that no matter how much trauma I’ve endured, he doesn’t want me to live in a state of fear and shame. He’s reminding me that he’s able to bind up my wounds and bring healing regardless of the depth of the scars. He’s the great physician who made it a point to find the most wounded people on earth and touch their lives with his power.

I look at the pain that has recently surfaced in my heart and wonder how it can be healed; he looks at it and knows that he can transform it into abundant blessings. Right now, I’m in the process of letting go of the hurt and asking him to reach down and, by the power of his Spirit, bind up these wounds and bring healing. I’ve seen him do it in remarkable ways before, and I’m confident that he’s going to do it again.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Ps 147:3

"Apart From Me You Can Do Nothing"

     For the past four weeks I’ve been busy planning for my classes, printing out charts, lists and lesson plans, reviewing grammar and reminding myself of past challenges so that I’m prepared to overcome them this semester. And I’ve been praying – that the Lord will go before me into each classroom and bless my efforts. It’s been me doing the job with the icing of God’s blessing on top – something I rely on, no doubt, in order to succeed.

     Then something happened. I lost my rhythm last week and began feeling like a failure. Maybe it was an unresponsive class or disorganized day, but it left me feeling empty. While I couldn’t put my finger on what caused it, I began acting out what I felt like. Instead of going into the class with confidence that something great was going to happen because God had called me there, I went in expecting nothing, looking at my watch and hoping that the hour would soon end. What had fueled me the week before was zapping my energy now, threatening to drain the life out of me. My job hadn’t changed, the students were the same. God was still with me. But, something had changed in me.

     As I was plugging in the CD player for my sophomore English class this verse came to my mind: “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Just like the CD player, I'm dependent on Christ's power in order to be truly alive and fruitful. I remembered that all my efforts and contributions were never any guarantee of fruit and blessing, but that my confidence has to be grounded in Christ and his ability to work in and through me. Not my gifts, my talents, my charisma, my ability to do a good job with God’s help. But me with nothing, absolutely nothing to give apart from him.  

     With this reminder I felt a fresh surge of joy. God’s goodness and his desire to use my life brings purpose to everything in life, even the dull tasks that I'd otherwise have difficulty enduring. The emptiness that was gnawing at my heart gave way to the expectation that God is at work in and through me. With him, through him, and by his Spirit I can abound in every good work with a sense of power and purpose, bearing much fruit unto his glory.

I hope you'll take a minute to listen to this song by Sara Groves. It's one of my favorites as it deals with this daily struggle to abide in Christ's love rather than living life in my own strength.
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5zkOfSJSn4

When God Hears and Answers

“Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear.”  Is 65:24

 

     In the novel Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester begins praying to God for Jane to come to him as he’s in a terrible state and needs her comfort. God intervenes and allows Jane, who is many miles away, to hear his voice as if he were present. His distressed call for help so burdens her that the next day she takes off in search of him. As she expects, she finds him in utter despair.  God sends her at just the right time to bring him the comfort he needs to go on. This story emphasizes the fact that God hears our cries and answers them through mysterious ways as he often  mobilizes others to come alongside us with their physical presence and in prayer.
     A similar incident happened to me last week as I lay in bed for hours, coughing and trying to sleep off what seemed to be the flu. Getting sick was likely the result of months of undue stress regarding our future – waiting to find out whether or not we’d stay in Korea or return to the states. The increasing pressure of the decision, together with my illness, caused me to feel almost overwhelmed by the uncertainties that lay ahead.
     Sensing my need for prayer and my own weakness and inability to pray at the time, I began asking the Lord to raise up others to stand in the gap and intercede on my behalf. I just didn’t have the strength to do it. The next day I received an unexpected e-mail from a seminary friend who I hadn’t talked with in over a year. She wrote to say that she couldn’t get me off of her mind for any specific reason, but that the Lord had so placed me there and that she’d been praying intensely for me. I wrote back telling her about my recent prayer and thanking her for responding to God’s nudging and being part of his mercies in my life.
     When other friends at our university heard I was sick, they called to say they were praying, too. At church the following week, a sweet Korean friend rushed up to me when I arrived, saying that she’d had a dream about me. When she woke up she sensed something was wrong and began praying on my behalf. Soon after, she texted me and found out about my sickness and then contacted her community group asking them to pray. While she and I were talking, one of the group members came up to say that she’d been praying daily. I was too overwhelmed to say much but that I was extremely grateful for their love and prayers and that God used them to lift me up during an especially difficult time.
     Interestingly enough, while this was all going on, I was waking up most every morning with a certain friend on my heart and mind. After praying for her throughout the week and thinking about my own prayers for God to send others to help me, I decided to write and make sure that she was doing okay, since I hadn’t heard from her in quite some time. I had no reason to believe she was struggling except that I was overly concerned about her. The next day I received an e-mail from her thanking me for praying. She explained that she was experiencing a terrible crisis in her marriage and that God had been giving her special grace to get through each day.
     I’ve written these accounts not to focus on my answered prayers, but instead to shine the spotlight on God’s love and power as he hears our cries and answers our prayers (2 Kings 20:5). God doesn’t need our permission to display his power, but it’s often when we’ve been asking, seeking, and knocking that he reveals himself in unimaginable ways (Matt 7:7). He wants all his children everywhere to come boldly before his throne and ask him for everything we need (Heb 4:16). 
    When we pray in the Spirit, in the name of Jesus, we’re not performing some kind of meaningless ritual but rather speaking the very power of God into our circumstances. He promises that if we’ll ask, we will receive, as he's longing to show us compassion (Is 30:18). The reason we seldom see the miraculous in our lives is because we're not asking. And often when we do pray for it, we’re asking with the wrong motives so that we can use his blessings for our glory and self-advancement. Selfish requests like these hit a brick wall, because God cannot and will not answer them (James 4:3). But when we ask according to his word he unleashes his power, equipping the saints to action and moving mightily upon our lives and circumstances.  
    I’m learning to watch for this leading of the Spirit and to respond by faithfully praying for those God has burdened me about. I’m asking him to show me friends and family members who are on the brink of giving up or who are carrying a burden that’s too heavy for them to bear alone. And, as I mentioned above, when I’m going through hard times and I don’t know what to pray, I’m learning to ask God to intervene on my behalf.

"I love the LORD, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy." Ps 116:1

 

Why'd You Have to Put the Peas in It?

     I still remember the look on Sarah’s pudgy, four-year-old face as she scrunched up her nose and asked in a tiny voice, “Why’d you have to put the peas in it?” It was my first attempt at shepherd’s pie and the dawn of new revelation – that she knew what she wanted, how she wanted it and she'd found the voice to communicate her desires.  
     Since then, I use that phrase when life throws something my way with an unexpected twist. I find myself asking God this question when I’ve plotted and planned only to discover that the outcome includes elements that weren’t part of the equation. I’d love to take credit for being the first to ever find fault with God’s plans, but Adam and Eve trumped me on that one. In the garden, their message to him in eating the apple was the same one Sarah echoed and the attitude that often spills from my heart. “Why did you have to make it this way?” “Why’d you have to put the peas in it, God?”  They had their own idea of what garden life should look like, complete with no restrictions.
     As I’ve shared in earlier posts, we’ve been traversing deep waters lately, and it just so happens that I’ve been simultaneously struggling with God about the “peas” on my plate. Packing up and moving across the world was a step I agreed to, but I had definite agenda for how the scenes should play out , presuming all along that God was in agreement. As Beth Moore says, I thought God and I shook on the deal, but there was only one hand wagging – and that was mine. The plan was one of ease and success – something I considered a given since I’d made so many sacrifices in coming here.
     When the trials started piling up I sat before God with a scrunched up nose complaining about how he’d worked out my situation. “If you’d just not allowed this….and if that would just would go away…..and if I had a little more of this…..I could be happy and be a better witness.” But the more I complained, the more miserable I became. I’ve been a Christian long enough to know that giving thanks is essential to a joy-filled life and that unless I surrender to God’s will and embrace his plans I’ll become bitter and angry.
     I’d like to downplay the struggle, saying that I just relinquished these dreams and prayed the   Lord ’s Prayer without reserve. But I didn't. Instead, I’ve laid on the floor weeping and sat up in bed in the middle of the night with my head in my hands trying to figure out if there’s any other way besides surrender. I’ve come at the situation from every angle, argued with God using every tactic I can contrive, but still he brings me back to the issue of acceptance. Will I take the plate he’s given me, complete with peas and some other items I find distasteful? Or will I stay in a state of anger toward him, refusing to believe he’s got my best in mind?
     This week everything came to a head as I’ve worn myself out wrestling with God. I’m still not happy about what he's asking me to give up – possibly another two years apart from our daughters. I still wish it could be another way. But, I’ve finally held out my hands and offered up an initial prayer of relinquishment which, for me, went something like this: “Lord, I’m really struggling to accept that this can be your will for me, but I surrender to your wisdom and your sovereign control. Even though I don’t understand it, I’m going to trust you and thank you and follow you because you’re good.”

     It may sound trite or even contrived, but surrendering this situation has been one of the most painful journeys of my Christian life. It’s reminded me again that God never promised me I’d have an easy or comfortable life. He didn't guarantee that he’d give me what I wanted or that he'd stop me from facing those things I dreaded most. His purpose was, and still is, that I am transformed into his image. And this change, unfortunately, can’t happen unless I walk through tumultuous waters and raging fires. No matter how much I try to water it down, the message remains the same – it’s one of hope and a future but also a life of sacrifice and surrender. It’s not for me to pick and choose what’s put on my plate but to trust the one I’ve entrusted my future to – that he means it for my good and his glory.

“For I know the plans I have for you, Nancy, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11

Hope Fulfilled

     With nearly three months of winter vacation on our obscure island, I decided to tackle some Russian literature that I'd never before had the time or courage to read. I halfway expected it to be a disappointment and gave myself freedom to quit at any point that I found it dull. Instead, I discovered something magical and overall magnificent in these works. While I knew nothing of Russian culture at the start, and not much about its history, I had an instant connection with the characters that transcended time and culture affirming the truth that people, no matter what their race or language, are inherently similar. Not only that, but I was reminded anew that everyone’s chief struggle springs from alienation from God and spills out into broken relationships, finances, health and ultimately broken dreams.
     Reading Brothers Karamazov was a raw experience for me as I peered into the deep recesses of Dostoevsky’s characters, almost with a sense of shame at seeing the baseness of their inner turmoil as they struggled with good and evil. More than anything, I saw myself in many of his characters and could relate on a personal level with them as they anguished over past sins, temptation to repeat them and a longing for life to be different than it actually was.
     While at times I became weighed down by the darkness, he managed to weave hope into the story so that no matter how despairing the circumstances, redemption shone over the horizon --- calling both the characters and me to persevere. In reading the final words I experienced a joy that I’d never had before from reading literature. It was a kind of cleansing that left me refreshed and renewed. Journeying with these real and very broken people though their emotional and psychological wrestling enabled me to pull out my own hidden struggles without the sense of shame I’d had in the past. Bringing them afresh before God and realizing that, unlike many of them, mine had been forever forgiven and washed away made me feel fully alive.
     More than anything, Dostoevsky reminded me that we serve a God of hope. Yes, we’re fallen and desire to do so much that’s contrary to God’s will that we’re often in a state of discontent. To complicate matters, everyone around us has the same bent toward evil, apart from God’s Spirit, so that their sin affects us in ways we often don’t deserve. Simultaneously, creation itself is growing old and wearing out, disappointing us with its inability to deliver a wellspring of youth and beauty, health and healing. But still hope remains – hope that Christ has secured our redemption and our future with him, hope that God is at work in our lives at this moment molding and shaping us into his image, hope that he is guiding and guarding us through the storms and conflicts, hope that we will not live in a broken world forever, but that there will come a day, very soon, when we will be eternally reconciled with him in body and spirit, where we’ll cease struggling with anger, bitterness, hatred, discord, disappointment, envy or anything else. We will dwell in perfect peace, perfect righteousness, and perfect unity with both God and his people. These days on earth will be but a distant memory as we stand in awe of all that God accomplished in and through us on this journey. Every tear will be gone; there will be no regrets -- only joy and rejoicing. Our story, replete with inner struggles as well as hope, much like Dostoevsky’s characters, will end in complete, unimaginable victory with the closing line -- Hope has been fulfilled.