LORD, moving into these final weeks of school, help us be mindful of Your perspective.

***

"The Faith to Persevere"
Oswald Chambers: My Utmost to His Highest (May 8th)

Because you have kept My command to persevere...—Revelation 3:10

Perseverance means more than endurance— more than simply holding on until the end. A saint’s life is in the hands of God like a bow and arrow in the hands of an archer. God is aiming at something the saint cannot see, but our Lord continues to stretch and strain, and every once in a while the saint says, "I can’t take any more." Yet God pays no attention; He goes on stretching until His purpose is in sight, and then He lets the arrow fly. Entrust yourself to God’s hands. Is there something in your life for which you need perseverance right now? Maintain your intimate relationship with Jesus Christ through the perseverance of faith. Proclaim as Job did, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him" (Job 13:15).

Faith is not some weak and pitiful emotion, but is strong and vigorous confidence built on the fact that God is holy love. And even though you cannot see Him right now and cannot understand what He is doing, you know Him. Disaster occurs in your life when you lack the mental composure that comes from establishing yourself on the eternal truth that God is holy love. Faith is the supreme effort of your life— throwing yourself with abandon and total confidence upon God.

God ventured His all in Jesus Christ to save us, and now He wants us to venture our all with total abandoned confidence in Him. There are areas in our lives where that faith has not worked in us as yet— places still untouched by the life of God. There were none of those places in Jesus Christ’s life, and there are to be none in ours. Jesus prayed, "This is eternal life, that they may know You..." (John 17:3). The real meaning of eternal life is a life that can face anything it has to face without wavering. If we will take this view, life will become one great romance— a glorious opportunity of seeing wonderful things all the time. God is disciplining us to get us into this central place of power.

i’m wondering this morning, Lord. Wondering where You are? Who You are? And what, in fact, it means that YOU ARE (by way of participl’ing “I AM”). I’m wondering what it would mean to “be with” You. To be with I AM. To engage with YOU ARE. Can I? Should I? Are you worth the risk? Am I worth the right?

“I will come and heal You. But truly, truly I say to you, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.”

born…but I was born—am born—what does it look like to be born again?

“In order to be born, you must be willing to die. To let go. To go back. In order to be born, you must be willing to leave what you see. To loose what you understand as living. To lose control. To lose power. Leadership. Destiny. Destination. Security. Entitlement. Balance. Structure. Safety. Solidarity. In order to be born, you must be willing to Trust—to take assurance in things hoped for, and surrender to that which you cannot see. To that which is Me.”

but who are you?

I AM.
Keep faithing. I AM coming. That is what I do.

what does that look like? how do I live?

“When you lose the world, you gain the Truth. When you let go of the seen, you see the unseen. You see that I am here. You see that I am He. You see.
You find what you were made for. You learn what you are worth.
Become like a child. Let me raise you. I have food to eat that you could not conceive. I have roads for your life that astonish your deepest dream.
I want to lead you. I want to let you. I want to Father your heart.
I wonder if you will let Me?
I wonder.”

***

“When the woman saw that she had not escaped his notice, she came trembling and fell down before Him, and declared in the presence of all the people the reason why she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed. And He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”

My iPod is blaring tunes from, "Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot," compliments of Sting. Problem is, if I let my soul be my guide today, I'm going down. Further down. Further in. And I'm scared to death.

I've never felt this vulnerable. Exposed. Raw. Without bearings. I've never felt like such a child...such an infant, really. I am sad. I am angry. All I want to do is be held. All I know to say is, "Help me."

I woke this morning asking God what prayer was? Who He was? How in the world I got on this Journey? How in the world my surface interactions with it/Him have kept me in the game? There have been external professions and promises and heights of jubilation. But there has lacked an inward journey. There has lacked a soul willing to be piloted inward. Or a Pilot, with a soul willing to go inward.

This new place of surrender is overwhelming and uncomfortable and beyond anything I've ever known. I'm scared I won't come back. I'm scared I wasn't anywhere to start with.

To be honest, the Lentin season didn't do much for me. I justified it by saying I recognize Jesus' saving death and resurrection every day. Why should I feel a compulsion to join cultural Christianity's holiday recognition (even though the Easter bunny perk is pretty tempting...joke)? What's been striking though, is how much the post-Easter week has brought to my attention. What would this week look like were we one of Jesus' disciples? How would it feel to 'know' now that his Story was true, but to embark on a telling of that Story to the world? To your neighbors, family, enemies? Would you quit your job? Go to the mountains to pray? Would you schedule a meeting to create a strategy, or come-up with a church name? Would you cry that he was gone...begging his willingness to return? Or maybe cry in joy that he was here...allowing life as you now know it to truly be Life?

For me, I think I'd be overwhelmed. I think I am overwhelmed. The cost has been paid...the "proof" laid before us. But now the question is can we believe? Are we willing to follow? The Journey has been paved before us. The journey to the end in some ways, but the journey to the beginning in many others. What does it look like, why does it hurt so bad, and how long will it last? How much further down can we travel, God? How much further in can we bear? Why must we go? And to where, O Lord, is it that You're going?

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.” Luke 9:23-24

Lead me, Father. Hold me. I want to come after you, but I know not the way. I need You. Help me.

I'm in the middle of midterm studies, but finding just about anything as a rightful distraction. Like writing you to say "hi."

In all sincerity, I hope your semester is moving along well and that you're enjoying some element of breathing today. It wasn't a mistake that you were woken-up. There is a reason you're alive. I know it doesn't feel like it when you're spinning your wheels for biology exams, or sifting through messy relationships, but if we could just step back for a few minutes, and remember that there's a much grander Story going on, I think we'd all be better off.

Jesus has surprised me lately in his humanity. In his personhood. Reading through his journals on earth, the amount of struggle, fear, frustration, pain, joy, unsurity, unclarity, desire, fatige and passion he endured are comforting to my self, who's often so scattered across the map that she couldn't explain where she's coming from, or going.

As much as life doesn't make sense, I'm wondering this morning if we could realize Jesus would agree? If not--if we can't know that our God agrees, validates and has full understanding of our plight, than I say we mine as well find another God. But if He does--if He can lend empathy to our journey on this side of heaven, than it might do us well to invest in that conversation.

Lord, help us come to You. Help us be with You in today's fight--its victories and defeats alike.

We love You.

The Gospel declares that no matter how dutiful or prayerful we are, we can't save ourselves.

Maybe this is the heart of our hang-up, the root of our dilemma. We fluctuate between castigating ourselves and congratulating ourselves because we are deluded into thinking we can save ourselves. We develop a false sense of security from our good works and scrupulous observance of the law. Our halo gets too tight, and a carefully disguised attitude of moral superiority results. Or, we are appalled by our inconsistency, devastated that we haven't lived up to our lofty expectations of ourselves. The roller-coaster ride of elation and depression continues.

Why?

Because we never lay hold of our nothingness before God, and, consequently, we never enter into the deepest reality of our relationship with him. But when we accept ownership of our powerlessness and helplessness, when we acknowledge that we are
paupers at the door of God's mercy, then God can make something beautiful out of us.

"Surely God is my salvation;
I will trust and not be afraid.
The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song;
He has become my salvation."
Isaiah 12.2

("At the Door of God's Mercy" - Brennan Manning)

Some stints of my life have dealt crazy decks of occurrence. But I’d be willing to say the past six months have dealt the most surreal occurrences with God and this thing called “earth,” that I’ve ever known. If God really is a person, He has a will. Never, though, have I so submissively attempted opening to This will (as oppose to mine), which again, has left me with the most unbelievable of seasons. This writing is done on the eve of a most bizarre and miraculous chapter herein.

The short of my last week is as follows: Tuesday night, went to play tennis with buddies from school, Todd and Jeremy. Stomach tightened up so bad that I ended up in the emergency room. Intersected paths with a meth-addicted, battered woman named Barbara. As each of us waited through many hours of triage and no treatment, we were able to hear bits of her story and gain a heart for hers—namely, the devastating memories her abuser Phillip. At some point in this night, Phillip showed-up. An altercation and final “split” left the three of us there with a homeless, wounded woman, high on Meth. This led to our first chunk spent searching sites and calling hotlines, all in hopes of caring for one woman. Shelter options left us stranded, ending this night at 3:30am in a Motel 6, laying on her bed with Mexican food and prayers (likely her first ever). We left her money for a cab, meant to deliver her to a recovery shelter in the morning. Our job was done…until we heard from her in the morning, explaining that the shelter was temporary and merely provided food and a bus ticket. Not much help for a woman who’s craving drugs and can easily find more lucrative options by sharing her body at any given hour or street corner.

Jeremy, Todd and I pulled away again from our “normal” lives, in order to love, and at this point, even like a woman. We were hopeful that day, but tired from a long night and wondering God’s thoughts on our role. The afternoon was spent over more meals and tears of rejection and shame. The LA shelter system—whether it be for battered women, or drug addicts—is hard for me to support anymore. We saw way too many rules that ruled over a heart, and hearts that were dead in their profession. Hearing Barabra rehash stories of suicide, rape, molestation and addiction…received by a dull voice of predetermined guidelines was nauseating, to say the least.

Thursday night we shared an emotional dinner together, where Barbara started showing signs of her human beingness—she was witty, intelligent, curious and beautiful. We were able to land her at a church that night, which had issues of its own, but for that night at least, they were a blessing to our quest—which at this point was finding itself extremely hopeless and wanting to run, on just about every front. The guys and I would have to spend a number of hours debriefing and praying and crying and asking at the end of every one of these stints with Barbara. We were exhausted, let alone hundred of pages behind on our normal roles in life. But as confusing and madly alone we felt in these hours, we knew we were to stay together and stay in the trenches of this story.

Hearing from her the next morning, however, our hopes plummeted more. She had skipped a trial date and called Phillip to come get her. When that interaction failed miserably, again, she called us. Said she’d been kicked out of the church, hadn’t called the shelters she was suppose to, and was wanting to use. More tired than before and downtrodden in our weakness and pain, we chose to step into another day with our prodigal friend. Seeing her was devastating—she was more hopeless and angry than us, and could’ve fooled anyone in claiming that she was sober. We sat in McDonalds and explained her options—which in our minds included 3 more shelter attempts, which by our track-record, would not work. Other than that, we’d agreed to take her to jail. Her only other option was moving back to the streets, or her abuser.

By God’s absolute grace, and I don’t say that lightly, I remembered a recovery home in Pasadena that hadn’t crossed my mind up to that point (had it done so any earlier, Barabra wouldn’t have been willing/able/ready to commit to its needs. As we sat there through another interview, and a send-off that said, “Call back Monday,” we were devastated. Again, by His miraculous grace though, God pushed the decision back to “Saturday,” and then eventually to, “Call back 30 minutes from now.” And oh what a 30 minutes those were! So much desire to hope, but so much more scarring that made full hoping feel impossible. (Story concludes in last blog...)

(To understand this blog, you must first read the one before: "Rainbows and Lollipops").

Long story short(er), Barbara was accepted and committed to this year-long recovery program. In what will be our final ride together for quite some time, we trafficked the LA freeways with conversations that allowed Hope to unfold and tears to unleash. She laid on my lap in the backseat, as we wept like babies at this God we were coming to know. Barbara explained her dreams of a land of “rainbows and lollipops—where souls will be good and people will not cry anymore.” We could confidently say we were driving her in that direction. Dropping her off felt like leaving a beloved daughter to college.

She has a long, long road ahead, but seeing the Lord’s precise care and pursuit of this heart named Barbara all week has left our faith skyrocketing. Our sister has been rescued. She has found herself on a path where “rainbows and lollipops” can welcome her Home. That is our prayer today—that this soul would find the courage and desire to surrender a horrific past and horribly challenging present to the hands of her Savior, Jesus Christ.

We remain committed to much of Barbara’s life today, including investments with her at the treatment center, as well relationships with her mom, children and even, abuser, Phillip. The days have been so surreal and caused us to question the definings of ministry, Church and the “normalities” of life on earth. Cracking the lives we’re behind on is overwhelming to say the least, but suffice it to say that even as we head back into “reality,” our lives have been radically touched by a soul in the depths of sin’s well. More so, by such a soul being reached into by the beckon of her Lord and Lover.

May the Land of rainbows and lollipops be the cry of our hearts today. Come, Lord Jesus. Come.

Hey friends,

What a great weekend of COLD meetings, travel and some time at the Jubilee Conference in Pittsburg (shout-out to Tarun, Tyler, Alyson, Darby, Steve...and many other wonderful hearts I'm forgetting).

I met with my Multnomah Team in Colorado Springs and we're excited about some upcoming projects (to be shared more fully in days ahead :)).

Continued moving east, until I hit the snowy streets of Pittsburg. A few flight delays and glitches along the way, including leaving my cell phone in a cab at 2:30am (which my driver returned the next morning!?! sweet man), but phenomenal visit overall. I was able to join Derek Melleby's High-School to College transition crew for a full-day, as well as enjoy a morning with a range of college students from the northeast.

Couldn't resist a quick walk on the beach after landing last night...nice to be home in sunny so. cal :). Back into the swing of classes this morning, but more updates and project news to come!

It's always a joy to hear from you, so let me know what you're up to when you get some minutes between classes and life.

abbie

"Some saints cannot do menial work while maintaining a saintly attitude, because they feel such service is beneath their dignity."
Oswald Chambers: My Utmost for His Highest - 2/5/07