Hast thou not seen? (a Thanksgiving post)

You know the hymn Praise to the Lord, the Almighty? It's one of my favorites. And I think my favorite phrase is in verse 3:

"Hast thou not seen how thy desires ere have been

granted in what He ordaineth?"

And because Thanksgiving has me thinking a lot about this beautiful truth, here's my top ten "granted desires" list. 
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1. Growing up on the edge of a small Midwest town. Allowing much fort building, woods tromping, creek splashing, tree climbing, and rusty junk excavating for one little girl who came with a built in desire for all things adventure and outdoors. 

2. Living an empty lot away from a rickety, white-paint-peeling- off old house that had a constant flow of renters. Which perfectly met my desire for friends in the neighborhood (however sketchy they may have been). 

3. Church friends who owned horses and happily let me ride throughout the years. Satisfying my desire for all things horse in a farmland community where they were rare.

A terrifying fall off of one of these horses would lead us to discover I had serious scoliosis (at the perfect time in my physical growth when it could be corrected before it hindered me for life.) Amen?

4. The privilege to attend a young Christian college that was local church based. A thrilling meeting of my desires to learn Bible teaching and experience a wide variety of church ministries.

Notice the Greek room where all the magic and some unintentional heresy happened...

5. Being asked by missionary friends to come teach their children in Manila. Granting a long standing desire of mine to experience foreign missions and allowing for two years in South East Asia: a part of the world I love. 

6. Sitting across a desk at a Christian university and hearing "Welcome aboard, we're glad to offer you a GA position as you pursue your Masters in Counseling." Providing a rare opportunity for a debt free degree. And fulfilling my desire to "go farther" in education after two years abroad. (check out my aMAZing brothers who graduated with me!)

7. Watching God weave my four siblings (and their growing families) back into my life. Grown adults now, each pursuing a different life path, each converging for a year or more in the city where I live. Answering a rather unexpected but very real desire to draw on those dearest to me for support and love as I navigate my own course. 

8. Finding Beth-like homes in the last few years. (don't laugh! This is so important to me!) Satisfying my desire to live in "non cookie cutter" places where I can minister to others easily and comfortably crash at the end of the day. Proof that God delights to grant even the little desires. 

9. Praying "If this is the church you want me in, then would you do this, this, and this?" And seeing God answer those requests within 2 weeks of visiting my local church here. Granting my desire for a local body of believers that would become not only dear family to me, but also gentle, firm voices for good in my life. 

10. The fact that you are reading this. Fulfilling a recent desire to share on a larger platform what God is doing in my own life. 

Please, if you have a moment, tell me a few of your "granted desires" in the comment section below. I'd love to hear them! 

Beth

Sometimes I Want

Being transparent on a public platform has its dangers.

And being 'real' when it becomes an end in itself can wind up feeding the flesh more than it feeds the spirit.

With that in mind, today I'm going to write something that (Lord willing) will only make up a small, shimmery thread in the weaving of this blog. I'm going to share a current struggle. 

Sometimes I just want--

To be married.

And in marriage to find...

• A life partner. To share the little details of the everyday.
• A man to look me in the eye and say, "Beth, cry. It's ok. Don't bury it." Then give a hug much bigger than my own. 
• A sounding board. To give feedback after shared experiences. Someone I can ask, "what's your read on that? I'm not sure I'm seeing it correctly."
• A relationship where it's appropriate to openly admire. The freedom to build a man up without restraint. 
• A spiritual leader. To correct me. To teach me. To help me grow in Christ likeness. 
• Someone to defer to. No, really. A life that only has to defer to itself can get pretty mundane. 
• A life calling to vicariously take on as my own. Something bigger than me. Something that intrigues and excites me as I learn about it and my husband's role in it. 

So what do I do when I'm overwhelmed with this desire that God has (at least for today) said no to? Here's what is helping me in the right now: 

1. I acknowledge that the "want" is not sin. 

Because Satan whispers this lie and I blush to think how often I fall for it. This lie makes me feel continually guilty, and effectively wraps me in chains. A desire for marriage is not an evil sin though. It's built into the vast majority of us. And wrenching the spigot of this desire shut destroys something beautiful and God-given. 

2. I pray about it.

Talk it through with the God who created this desire and me. I pour out the longings and loneliness until my heart is clean empty. Pour it dry before my High Priest who was tempted in all points that I am. One who is touched with the feeling of my weaknesses. 

I pray before I run to a friend. Before I dial home (wait--do we still call it dialing?). Before I schedule a mentoring session. Why? Why pray first? Because NO ONE knows me better or loves me more than my Jesus. 

NO. ONE. 

3. I ask "what does my Bible say about this?"

Trust me. Often, the last place I want to be in this struggle is sitting down with my Bible on my lap. Are you shocked?

I think it's because the world is constantly in my face shouting "Just go for it! Caution be hanged!" So action seems like the right thing. And solving my problem the world's way, or grabbing the phone to whine it out with a real, live person seems like the best course of action. 

Not sitting. Not reading.

But before I reach out to others in my want, I've got to reach for my Bible. So (with an eye on how long-winded this post has become) let me share just one tiny but powerful passage that's instructing my 'want' right now. 

"Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh to you." James 4:8

I know doing things the world's way is not worth it. I've seen others try and have yet to find it end in a happily ever after. I also know that I am to wait on God. BUT, I don't ignore the want. I acknowledge it. It's not sin; It's God given. I talk with God about it. First. Before anyone else. Laying it before Him til I have nothing more to say. Then I relax into waiting and...

 In the waiting I actively draw closer to God. Every time the want cries inside me, I take a deliberate step closer to Him. I add more (or simply more thinking) to my Bible reading. I make my lunch break a prayer meeting. I ask Him what more He would have me do for the body of believers I belong to, and I immediately act on it. I schedule secret praise and thanksgiving times with Him. And the list could go on.

 And as I do this, He draws 'nigh-er' to me. Allowing me to see Christ in more detail. To know the gush of His power and mercy full on. To see crystal clear the reality that this world is passing but my relationship with Him is eternal. Reminding me of the truth said so well in that familiar hymn phrase: 

"and the things of earth will grow strangely dim
 in the light of His glory and grace." 

And somehow in this 'light of His glory and grace' the things of this world-- this longing for marriage, this pining for a season that is not to be yet, does grow strangely dim. Don't ask me how it happens. But I know it to be true. 
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So there it is, folks. In all it's transparent 'realness'. My want.

And my Hope.

Beth

Coming Soon: Hast thou not seen? (A Thanksgiving post) 

How to become a single monster (in 10 easy steps)

It may look like I'm shooting my own demographic in the proverbial foot with this post. But trust me, that's not my intent. This sarcastic list actually pokes fun at my own monster tendencies. (And was alarming easy to write) 

ALSO, a dear friend who has asked to remain anonymous helped create this list. And no, that is not her pictured in the photo above. (because I know you were wondering that) 

(Thank you, Anonymous)
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To become a single monster you must:

1.) Avoid at all cost any gathering or conversation where marriage and especially parenthood will be discussed. And if pregnancy ever comes up, retreat to sulk in the corner.

2.) Over analyze every detail of your sorry single life. Attending a party, at the grocery store, driving down the street, working your job, figuring your finances, laying in bed (or is it lying? Oh dear...) EVERY situation provides fodder for one continuous pity party.

3.) Do NOT forget that you are single!!!!! Not for one moment. Don't even think about forgetting. To help with this, consider tattooing 'single' down the bridge of your nose.

4.) Do not let OTHERS forget that you are single and thus view all of life from a drastically different perspective than them. Remember, this perspective MUST BE VOICED during every conversation. no matter how mundane. Example:

Married person: Hey Beth! The other day I was blowing my nose when--

Beth: WHOA there. Did you ever think about how different my experience is blowing MY nose as a single? (launches into a 45min. monologue)

5.) Come home from EVERY public engagement to wonder how it may have affected your singleness in a positive or negative way. (Ack! I burped really loudly in front of that single! Now I'll NEVER get married. And so on and so forth)

not that I speak from experience or anything.

okaaaaay, moving on...

6.) Consider how different it would be if you had a partner to join you in ministering to others. Along with this, when worshiping in church, take careful note of those couples who snuggle up to each other. Stare at the back of their neatly combed heads and repeat after me:

"I.can't.do.this.so.I.am.very.very.sad."

7.) Banquet your eyes on as many romantic movies as you can, and observe how your love life falls woefully short of those sappy, soft music, fuzzy screen shots before the actors kiss at the end. Since this is obviously what reality is like, compare every friendship to this standard.

8.) Don't ever allow married couples to rejoice in front of you without making SOME kind of comment to draw attention away from them.

9.) Assume EVERYONE else is CONSTANTLY viewing you in light of your singleness. And carry that assumption like a big chip on your shoulder every where you go. Example:

Married person: Hey Beth! It's such a gorgeous day out, isn't it?

Beth (thinks to herself): When will this person FINALLY get over my singleness and stop allowing it to dictate what they speak to me about?

10.) Talk continually, read voraciously, and gather faithfully all the Biblical principles that apply to singleness being careful not to believe them and apply them to your life or the lives of your friends.
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Not a pretty picture, is it.  But the truth is, singleness is not a hairy, bloated wart suctioned to our face by some smirking power of divinity. So why do we treat it like that?

Why do we...

• feel it needs to be immediately explained to everyone we meet
• allow it to dictate the what, where, and how of every action
• spend many anxious, teary hours trying to "fix" it
• constantly wonder if everyone is secretly staring at it
• assume it's the hidden reason behind all "bad" that happens to us

How do we acknowledge the reality of being single
without letting it dominate our lives?

My guess is there's not a "one size fits all" answer. But I will say this. Although I find very few Scripture passages dedicated to "single" instruction, I find countless pages of my Bible packed full with Christian instruction. This makes me think that God is much more concerned about my relationship with Him than with my singleness. 

And I should be to.

Reality is, my singleness can change. As a garment it may be "put on" and "put off" even several times within my lifetime (think Elisabeth Elliot). But my Christianity is not like that. It is woven into the very fiber of who I am. 

And when I make my singleness subordinate to my Christianity, I stop seeing it as ugly, embarrassing, or depressing. And start seeing it as a mighty tool for good in my arsenal of life resources. Like the other details of my life right now, I can learn to wield it skillfully for the benefit of others and the glory of God.

But, unlike the Hulk monster's temper--
my singleness doesn't need to call the shots.

And by God's grace, it won't.

Beth
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Coming soon: Who am I kidding, I don't know yet. 

When the fog doesn't lift: walking through discouragement

I know it. So well. 

That feeling of walking through a foggy morning. 

The strange mixture of helplessness and anxiety that starts turning in my stomach. Familiar landmarks shrouded from view. Not able to see my next step. Slow, stumbling progress until my hand reaches some familiar object. 

And that rush of comfort when the adventure is over.
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We know how to walk in fog. How to maneuver with our hands stretched out before us, and mark our steps carefully.

 But how do we learn to walk in spiritual fog? 

In the dense, oppressive discouragement that falls and hangs about our lives obliterating the familiar landscape of every day and leaving us shuffling gingerly through the hours. How do we go on living when we feel numb and our energy and joy snuffed out by such a heavy blanket? 

I don't know.

I've trudged through spiritual fog for weeks at at time.

There is always a grasping first. Arms outstretched I fling myself at beloved counselors and friends. I hope they will place in my hands some spiritual miracle pill. Or give me some God-salve that, if applied three times daily will have me better in a week.

 But I am sorely disappointed. 

Man has yet to discover how to "stop" fog. It is beyond his control. And soon I find myself sinking into introverted gloom. Getting angry at those Christians who seem to jump ecstatically from one spiriual success to another like evangelical Tiggers.

Then during one discouragement fog a couple years ago, I curled up on my dorm room bed overwhelmed with embarrassment. Thinking: 

 "Here I am on the campus of this Christian university, in charge of undergrad students, involved in ministry. getting a degree in Biblical Counseling and, truth is, I don't even feel Christian anymore. I don't feel anything."

But as I sat there praying, I came to three simple conclusions. And these have helped me through many a season of discouragement since. 

Conclusion #1 Lord, you don't have to take me out of this.

I know, I know! Of course God doesn't have to have me tell Him "it's ok with me." But somehow letting go of my urgent sense of "It's your fault and you must deliver me now!" in this simple prayer, leaves me in a position of calm acceptance where there once was rigid straining to see the fog lift. 

Perhaps this is what Paul hints at in 2 Cor. 12. He came to the point where he stopped reaching for deliverance from his infirmity. And he actually saw that area of weakness as prime ground for God to showcase His power. Sometimes the best path lies across the most obscure terrain. 

So I learned to say it out loud, with arms uncrossed: Lord, you don't have to take me out of this.

Conclusion #2: Lord, I will not stop obeying You.

Shutting down. My knee jerk reaction to discouragement.

I stop reading my Bible because I don't feel spiritually alive. I stop praying. God knows everything already, right? And He doesn't seem to be doing anything about it. Going to church seems pointless. No one understands (or seems to notice) the fog enveloping me.Just. leave. me. alone. 

 But, God is my Father, I can't stop loving Him even if I tried. And I can love my God in the thick of the discouragement. I can do what I know how to do. And my obedience doesn't have to be contingent on His deliverance.

I obey, because I love, because I am His.

 And no degree of discouragement changes that. 

Christ asks Peter a stunning question in John 6: "Will you also go away?" Peter had just heard perplexing spiritual truth and had watched as many of his fellow disciples slipped away from Christ and "followed no more." Discouraging? no doubt. 

But he blurts out, "Lord, to whom else can we go? You have the words of life. And we do believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God. " He was saying, I will not stop following, even in the disappointment--even when I don't understand." 

So I learned to say it with an upturned face: Lord, I will not stop obeying You. No matter how long this lasts.

Conclusion #3 Lord, bring yourself the most glory possible through this.

God's ability to bring Himself glory is not hampered by my state of well being. 

But don't I need mountain top spiritual ecstasies and deep feelings of closeness and passion for my God to receive glory from my life?

 Not really.

What is it that God considers most valuable in I Peter 1:7? Success? A spiritual high? Perfection? The brilliant rescue from the trial? No, Peter tells us it is the trial itself that holds unfathomable value in God's eyes and ultimately ends in His glory as we respond correctly. 

So I learned to kneel in the fog and say: Lord, make the greatest amount of glory possible radiate Heavenward through this. 

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Throughout my life I've slogged through countless foggy mornings. They fall quickly and with unnerving power they slow life to a crawl. 

But they lift. 

And reality is that throughout our Christian lives spiritual fog will fall. For innumerable reasons discouragement will descend and blanket our senses and activities for days or week at a time. But it will lift. When? How?

I don't know.

I don't need to.

I will set my face toward Heaven and raise my three convictions with an open palm. The one who controls the fog will hear. And I can rest assured...

There will be comfort when the adventure is over. 

Beth