something immovable

It was the last day of our family reunion on the coast when I realized it.

The beach is one swirl of constant motion. 

In the early morning light, I saw it so clearly. Shells tumbled up and skidded back in harmony with the tide. The sand continually whisked from under my feet. The crashing forward then sucking back of the waves. The wind shifting the clouds and mist of an endless sky. The morning sun hidden then at once bright shining. Even the pelicans, sandpipers, and seagulls were in perpetual motion skimming waves or strutting down the sand. 

'Uh, Beth, it took you seven days to realize 
things move on the beach?...'  

Let me explain myself. 

You see this revelation, although obvious, was the opposite of a memory that had captured my thoughts all week. One of a previous reunion on this stretch of beach. One of my Dad.

My Dad, and a certain stringy-blond, waif of a little girl who would not be content in the shallow water. And I've not forgotten what it felt like to wrap my bony arms around his neck and cling tight to his back as we made our way to where the waves flung their bubbly spume and rolled their mighty rolls in what seemed a magical deep. Nor have I forgotten what I felt as those waves towered high above our heads and, at times, swallowed us whole in their powerful curls. 

I felt bold. 

And fearless. 

Let the waves crash against my tiny frame. let them turban my long-stranded hair about my face and fill my mouth with the taste of salt. I was attached to something immovable. And when my strength gave way, something greater than I anchored me tight: My Dad's thick, strong arm was about my waist. I could face the waves with a sheer joy that rivaled that of the cawing gulls dipping in the sky above me. 

This scene played out many times at our reunion last week. Tiny nieces and nephews all timidity at the ocean's edge. But against the broad shoulders of my brothers, they became reckless bold and laughing as the waves rushed about them. They knew what I had so many years ago. Though their lilting voices and waving hands could not explain it, they were attached to something immovable. And that changed everything.

Life is one swirl of constant motion. 

From every direction it crashes against us all unpredictable and daunting. At times we feel it rip the very ground from underneath us. And the future clear and bright shining all at once turns taciturn. We tumble. We are pulled and pushed.

But we are attached to something immovable. A Rock. A Strong Tower. A Fortress. And though our flesh and heart fails, we find about us an arm strong in salvation that will not let us go. So let this world surge around us, let it tumble and plunge us. We face it bold. Fearless. With a certain abandonment of joy. For nothing can pluck us from our Saviour's grip. He told us so. And we've known it true. 

But it's not just that we're anchored fast to this Rock. Hidden in every wave-curl is a sovereign design. As this life towers then crashes into my thousand-edged points, those jagged corners of me, they transform. They soften, and purify, and tumble us smooth and shining. Making us more reflective of the Christ who holds us tight in His strong arm.

And that's when those around us notice. Scouring this broad earth for a shell-shard of meaning...Look, they say, this one's different. It's all smoothness. All gentleness, kindness, meekness...all joy and confident faith...how can that be on a beach of manic, roaring motion? Then we need only point them to our Saviour.

And what was a faint reflection in us, they see full on for themselves in the face of Christ. Our Rock.

Beth

on being your own boss

Must be great being single. You're FREE! Independent from parents, no spouse/kids...wow! 

I hear that sometimes. But being one's own boss isn't all awesomeness. There's a heightened need for 'self-governance' on the single path and that can be challenging. Here's why:

1. Because I can't always say yes.

I'm a yes addict. Captivated by it's power to show love and kindness. And as a single, no one's standing over me saying, don't. But a constant yes makes me frantic and ugly. Singleness requires that we be skillful at the gracious no. That's challenging.

2. Because I can't please everyone.

Not every eye's gonna look on me kindly. Some will question my no. Others raise an eyebrow at my priorities. Still others wonder why I did______ or didn't_____. And as one, that can be hard to handle. It requires a determination to please the Lord and not man. Challenging indeed.

3. Because I can't maintain superhero status. 

I love doing it all: churching, hostessing, yarding, writing, committee-ing, housekeeping, friendship-maintaining...go ahead and add a Captain America drop roll and punch kick while you're at it.

But I can't keep it up. And that's ok. Because God never intended us to be superheroes. He calls us children. Well He knows the limits of our 'feeble frames.' My all doesn't have to equal scaling walls and vaulting my body off rooftops. Remembering that's a challenge. 

So what do I do?

Learn to number my days. What does God say about my time? How do I want to spend it? Don't let life strap you to the gilded horse of its whirling, stomach-flopping, merry-go-round. Count out your minutes. Be wisely de.lib.er.ate.

Learn to seek the Lord. First. Less knee-jerk yes, more wait. Sometimes the slow answer is the best answer. So give it a minute, day, week...pray over it. Do I have time for this? Energy? Will it affect what's already required of me? If I seek the Lord first, then I can be assured the 'all things' that are added to my life are what He wants.

Learn to care for my temple. It's God's. A stewardship. If my body's not healthy, how can I do my Father's business? Exhaustion doesn't equal spirituality. Never has. What are my physical limits? What does my body need to function best? Wrestling with these questions is not carnal. It allows me to be most effective for the Kingdom.

Learn to see the value of retreat. When I fail at the previous three points (and I do), I schedule a spiritual retreat. Here's what it looks like:

Time: 1-2 evenings after work. Maybe a whole vacation day. Or a weekend. The idea is, there's enough time to slow down and concentrate. Enough time.  

Place: Anywhere. Alone. I've retreated in my apartment, to a friend's travel trailer, to (most recently planned but thwarted) a local hotel room.

Content: Writing down what fills life right now and praying through it. my own thanksgiving service. naps. reading my favorite psalms back to the Lord. apologizing for falling asleep while praying. belting my favorite hymns out in my own key. coffee coffee tea coffee coffee decaf coffee. thinking through the future before the Lord. minimal technology. examining current frustrations/discouragements with an open Bible. easy (but awesome) food...

Results: I'm settled and refreshed. Several no's and yes's to give. A thankful heart. Refocused daily routine. My opinion? Retreats like this are necessary (and possible) for us as singles. Because we must be guided by God's thoughts in how we govern our lives. No one can do this for us. 

 .................................................

So we learn to number days, seek God first, and care for our bodies. And when life gets tough, we deploy the secret weapon of spiritual retreat. Don't let that powerful weapon rust.

It's a benefit of being boss.

Beth

I never expected it

A recent Saturday morning found me hunched over a plate of bacon and french toast with a steaming cup of cheap coffee clutched in my hands. The chatter of early-risers and the clink of dishes made a girlfriend bend a little closer across the table as she spoke:

 "I have this friend, you know. And she's a believer and all. But she's really struggling with not getting married right after graduation. She keeps telling me, I just never expected this. "

As our breakfast continued (and I struggled against the carb-induced, semi-comatose feeling that IHOP never fails to deliver) that phrase kept turning in my mind. When have I thought those words? Later that day, this led to my favorite activity: the almighty list. 

I never expected

1. To discover my little sister having a seizure as she lay beside my bed. And how that night would change the landscape of our family's life ever since.

2. That I would ever stand on that huge stage clutching a Master's degree diploma. (And hoping I wouldn't trip, faint, or throw up. That was free.) 

3. To stare into a dim hospital room at a man enmeshed in countless tubes and blinking machines, thinking this can't be my Dad...

4. The sky to be so blue and the tops of the pine trees so green as I cannon-balled my body off a massive cliff over the boundary waters of Northern Minnesota.

5. That being away from my church while it suffered through the difficult split would be so heart wrenching. 

6. The melody coming from Yo-Yo Ma's cello to be that stunningly beautiful from where I sat peering through opera glasses in the balcony stratosphere. 

7. The ultrasound tech to number that many tumors and refuse to answer my "but are they cancerous?" pleas as I lay on the exam table an ocean away from home and family. 

8. My heart to feel so full as I leaned against the bamboo hut surrounded by moon-washed rice fields and listened to the impromptu Bible lesson.

9. The phone call that one of my most loyal and beautiful cheerleaders had just been found alone...having passed from this life when we least expected it. 

10. The joy to be so rich as I looked for the first time into the faces of each infant niece and nephew and saw my siblings in them.  

................................................

Quite a random collection, right? Reminds me of a phrase from the hymn Day by Day: 

Lovingly, it's part of pain and pleasure. Mingling toil with peace and rest. 

Every life has unexpected good and bad. There's pain, pleasure, toil, peace, rest...just like the list above describes. It's a mingling. But this hymn describes another reality too: 

Every day the Lord Himself is with me.

That's the shimmery thread that weaves itself in and out of all the unexpected. The one ingredient that remains undiluted through all the mingling. Because if space allowed, I would describe how I knew the Lord's presence in each of these 10 situations.

You've known it too. How He's been a Wonderful Counselor. A Mighty God and Everlasting Father to you. How you've seen Him in the unexpected and found Him to be the Prince of Peace. The Shepherd. The Fortress. The High Tower. A Sun. A Shield. The I AM ________. 

.................................................

So I give an understanding nod towards my friend as I stir more cream into my coffee refill. I get it. The unexpected throws us. But it doesn't have to. Because whether we learn to live by this reality or not, whether we feel it or not, whether it seems like enough or not, the Lord Himself is with us. In the good, the bad, or the ugly. All that we need. We can bank on that. Hope in that. Set our expectation on that.

day by day. 

Beth

topics you've asked for: the single and the future

Once upon a time, there lived a single person. They were not necessarily young. Nor were they old. But alas, they were aging. And one day they found themselves in this never-ending mental debate. It sounded something like this:

I'll probably stay single so I will...

Stop sinking my money into rent, and buy my own home. 

Start upping my retirement fund. (because who will care for me in old age?)

Start rolling out the blueprint of my career advancement.

Stop waiting and buy fine china, a king-sized bed, and...etc. etc. etc.

I will probably get married so I will...

Start planning the details of the wedding.

Stop being so independent.

Start honing wifely (or husbandly) activities.

Continue in a holding pattern until that happens.

.............................................................

If you're single (or have been) this mental debate is probably familiar to you. So, (not as if I have any connection to the aforementioned single), here's a few guiding principles that have been helpful to me as I consider the future:

Don't let possibility stop you. 

"Beth, what is in your heart to do for Jesus? Do that." I thrilled to this counsel when I heard it years ago. Because I know the gifts God has given me and what I love doing for Him.

Don't let possibility stop you. Set your sails to do what you want to do for Jesus. Love full-time ministry? Work towards that goal. Love missions? Make a game plan. Love glorifying God by using your skills in a secular workplace? Do. It. (and so forth) If, in any of these pursuits, God would have you do something different, He will direct you. That's what He does.

Wear out your prayer place.

Uncertain about plotting your course? Lacking wisdom? Ask God for it. Keep asking. Wear out your knees asking. Not as if you have to constantly ask to get it, but that every time you ask, you receive it. He will not withhold wisdom and chide you for asking. He gives lavishly.

Be careful to take no thought. (check out that wordplay) 

If worry is growing in me, then I must dig it out. It's never the right response. Trouble is, inevitably I find anxiety rooted in the soil of unbelief. I'm anxious because I'm not in control of future things. Because I don't trust that God is. Because I don't actually believe that He is able to do what He says He will do for me. Beware: anxiety flourishes in a heart of unbelief. And it's fruit is as ugly as it is toxic.

Trust God with the consequences 

So what if I keep doing what I want to for Jesus and He suddenly changes my course? All that time, energy, ability, training, experience...wasted.

Friends, our God is bigger than that. Am I walking with Him? Content? Building up believers? Seeking the lost? Growing in my relationship with the Word and local church? Then there is no waste. And if, someday, I end up starting a new life of singleness or marriage from scratch, this is no surprise to God. We can trust Him with the consequences of trusting Him.

Be faithful (not stressed) about unrighteous mammon. 

As believers, we don't need to look to money for security. We all are/were young and, if the Lord tarries, we will all be old. But we will never see the righteous forsaken. We will never beg bread, or lack clothing and shelter. Ever. He will supply our needs. Always. There's no other way to interpret those verses. 

But we don't ignore money either. God calls us to steward it faithfully. This may mean that we start saving for a home. Or that we max out our 401k. In fact, it will mean countless individual things as God directs us. But we act from a position of trust. A firm understanding that the "buck doesn't stop" with us to provide for our financial future. Ultimately, the weight of our welfare rests solely on our Heavenly Father.

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Helpful? I hope. This post is the first in a new series called 'topics you've asked for.' Trust me, these topics are much harder than the little ones that dawn on my own brain. But look for more in this series as the weeks continue. And, as every once upon a time must end...

Live happily ever after. 

Beth