Come To Me

He began pursuing me quietly last spring.

Some family members sat across from me in the living room while my Little Love happily played on the floor between us.  They asked me what I was doing to find rest.  I responded about how I had begun reading for fun on Sundays during naptime.*  That was something, right?  I moved on.

A week or two later, during the first week of the spring session of the mother’s group at Crossroads the question we were to discuss was “How do you seek rest?”  The women around me spoke up and I sat quietly fumbling for anything to say.  I muttered something about the new planner I had purchased and trying to have a plan each day.  It is true that this was helping me to accomplish more, but truly I was treading water and I didn’t even know it.  I moved on.

As summer arrived, life changed as Jason began traveling regularly for the first time in over a year.  Life seemed to be moving along, but as it did exhaustion was beginning to surface alongside two companions, anger and impatience.  These were directed inwardly and toward my poor husband who deserved none of it.  At one point I found myself reading a bunch of Kevin Leman books, one about stress.  It was like he knew what was going on, but I was still in a place of thinking I could handle everything on my plate.  Of course I could.  I moved on.

The schedule on my calendar in August was relentless.   Jason traveling.  Commitments in the evenings.  Home projects.  Food to make for more than just our family.  No breaks.  But something had to break.  It turned out it was me.

I found myself crying in the arms of my husband’s arms, him asking what was wrong.  After weathering the first two weeks, I looked at the rest of the month unable to figure out how I would survive the rest.  He asked what he could do.  I wasn’t sure.

I was reading my Bible trying to hold on.  I was spending time with our family on the weekends, with my girlie at other times.  I wasn’t spending much time with just my husband.  I really didn’t have any time for me, except in the shower at the end of the day.   It was all too much.  Jason listened telling me that he had been trying to tell me this for months.  I know he had.  Finally, I knew.  I couldn’t keep going like this. 

The crazy thing is that some place in me I felt like I should be able to do this without a break.  The truth is the only one who is supposed to be able to do everything is God.  I am not God…though sometimes I try to be in my desire to control the circumstances around me (mostly without realizing it).  The crazy thing is that while I was trying to read God’s Word and connect with Him I seemed to be unaware of the way He was speaking to me in the midst of my circumstances all along.  While I felt like time spent in His word was dry; He was trying to breathe life into my life if I just had eyes to see and would be courageous enough to trust him and give him control.

He was calling out:

"Come to me, [you] are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." -Matthew 11:28-30

I needed space to rest.   I needed to find a way to be me again.

So it began.  Jason stayed with our Little Love while I ran some errands.  Although I had no pressing commitments, I was rushing the whole time.  I discovered how inwardly rushed I had become.  It turns out it is a lot easier to get into a rut than to find the way out.  I have embarked on the journey though.  I am working on asking for help from family.  I am also working on finding people to trust my Little Love with when family is not free.  I am doing all this very imperfectly, but as I have been taking small steps forward I have found that I have a bit more energy to do what I knew that I could. 

That seems so very backwards, yet it is true.  When we rest we have the energy to work, to create, to respond.

I am learning to rest again.  I am learning to follow those little nudges of the Holy Spirit again that lead to peace and life and love and rest so that I can rise to whatever the calendar brings and then some.   As I do better, I hope you will find me typing away and sharing the beautiful journey of becoming with you.**

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we pursue Jesus’ promise that when we come to Him we will find rest.  May His rest reach into the deepest parts of who we are and breathe His life into us spilling forth His radiant love.

Jessica :)

*I read often, nursing has been great for that, but it had been months since I had read any fiction for fun.   I tend to devour it and nonfiction is much easier to put down for chores.

**While I hope this means I will be able to post more regularly, I plan to rest as needed.  So if you find yourself enjoying this space on A Becoming Life and not knowing when to expect a post, perhaps you might consider joining the email list to get the next post in your email whether it is one week or a month or a few months!

Showered With Love

When I was first asked to pull together a list of people to celebrate with me I was at a loss. 

Family and a small circle of friends whom I do life with came to mind.  The list was small.

My far away heart family that has now become a little scattered (though our stories together all began in Utah) crossed my mind.  My heart always aches a little bit for them—joyful, sorrowful, and filled with loving prayers for their good.  It would be impossible for any of these to come. 

Yet, as I thought of these loved ones, I pulled out my address book and looked through to try to capture the many that have walked through different stages and events of life with me as friends, mentors and encouragers.  The list grew. 

I worried.  Would they wonder why I had invited them?  Would they want to come?

So as they all began trickling through the door on Sunday I was a bit overwhelmed by everything—the amazing food that had been labored over with love; so many dear ones in one place; so many gifts.  It felt like too much.  I had a hard time receiving.

How does one begin to drink all of it in?  How does one receive such a precious gift?

I was being showered with so much love.

I felt so undeserving of all this time, all these friends, all this love. 

I felt like I would burst from it all. 

(Truth be told, I did eventually—held close and heaving—late at night, long after it was all over.)

Now, I look back, reflect and realize a little bit more in my heart what I already know with my mind.

Grace is never earned or deserved.  It is a gift.

This shower, the people and presents—they were all a gift of love.  Grace.

The crazy part to me is that the blessing of love these dear ones poured out upon me and my little life of grace was just a small example of the way God loves and extends his grace to me. 

His love is wider and longer and higher and deeper than I can fully grasp.

I will keep trying to grasp it though. 

Perhaps the way we recieve is by living changed—bursting to overflowing with tears and joy and love and life again and again.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we receive grace as God’s gift to us.  As we are humbled by the way we don’t deserve any of it may our lives be lived overflowing with gratitude and filled with love.

Jessica :)

Scripture Reads

It is an activity I have often led in leadership trainings and participated in while on retreats. 

Often it is called lectio divina. Yet, tonight as I sit at Last Wednesday, Chuck and Andrea don’t call it that.  Instead, they strip the practice down to its core and call it what it is—listening to God through His Word.

They teach.

He is always speaking through His Word. 

“For the word of God is alive and active.  Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”  Hebrews 4:12

As we read Scripture, Scripture is reading us, they say.

They challenge.

Do we take time to stop and listen to God in His Word?

They lead.

As an auditorium of many, we stop to practice. 

We read and listen for God to speak.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess for he who promised is faithful.  And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:23-25

As I read, it stands out to me like words bolded on the page, calling out to my heart: 

“Hold unswervingly to the hope” and “he who promised is faithful.”

In the minutes that follow I am invited to consider what God might be trying to say to me.  I read the passage again and the context provides the key to what I think God is trying to tell me.

I don’t really like it.  This is about my attitude, my bad attitude.  I can hold to it or I can hold unswervingly to my hope trusting that he who promises is faithful.

I sit in the midst of an unwelcome confrontation.  Will I receive what I think God is speaking to me?

At the moment, I think I am very happy with my bad attitude.  Will I let it go?

Chuck challenges us to “share what you think you heard with someone from your tribe and act on it” before we go to bed tonight.  He has already shared that it is often in sharing what we think we hear that we receive confirmation (“Yes that sounds like God based on His Word and character"), correction (“No that’s not God” or further insight), and encouragement.

I am not looking forward to this sharing, but I am determined to do it. 

On my way home, I try to brainstorm ways of avoiding this assignment altogether.  However, in the end, I realize I will either do it or not, with this task there is no half-way.

When Jason asks about Last Wednesday I dodge, preferring to listen to him share why he wasn’t able to come late like he hoped.

We carry on with what is left of our evening—comparing baby items online—until I finally work up the courage to share what I think I heard God say to me.

In this, I pour out what I’m ashamed to admit to him—my bad attitude spilling out real and ugly.  Somehow it seems even uglier when it is out in the open.  I think I’m beginning to recognize this attitude for what it really is—toxic.  When I think of this, I’m not quite so happy with it anymore.  

Still, I hold to it defiantly—waiting. 

I am waiting for the words of correction to painfully whip across my heart. 

Instead, my husband gracefully draws me close and speaks.  Far from stinging censure, his words are gentle, but pointed.  His words bring the perspective I need.  They help me see what I could not see before.  What he says changes everything.  

All at once, I am broken for the way I have been rigid, inflexible and critical.  I have been trying to control this situation and in doing so I have been everything but loving. 

After I take it all in, I turn toward Jason and apologize for how I have made things difficult for him.  The tears trickle as I tell him I want to be a helpful partner in the midst of this situation.  I tell him I want to respond compassionately and live trusting the Faithful One to work out all I hope for in the midst of something I am unable to control.

In the midst of this, he affirms me and gives me encouragement.

I look into his kind eyes and realize that my dread is gone.  The toxins have been drawn out.  I feel free somehow.  I find I am softened at heart and ready to respond to all that God has spoken to me.

I wonder at it all.

I walk upstairs to get ready for bed thankful and lifting up praise for the beginning of His transformation in me.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we listen to God—in His Word—seek counsel from our tribe, and follow where He leads.  May we find that He is good and works for ours.

Jessica :)

To Bring Us Home

It has been quiet around here for awhile. 

Over the last two months Jason and I have been making ourselves a little more at home in our new house.  In truth, Jason has done much of the work.  I have helped to rearrange a little, while being otherwise consumed with the fullness of real life--Christmas letters, baking, meeting neighbors, spending time with family and the normal daily things one does like making dinner and cleaning the house.  All this has been in the midst of pregnancy exhaustion.  It has been good and God has been good in the midst of all of it.

This time of learning to be at home in our new home makes me think of one of the ponderings for me this December as we celebrated Christmas.  Christ came to bring us home.

When I was at the Allume conference in October, one of my favorite sessions was one I didn’t expect to go to.  It was led by Laura Booz of 10 Million Miles and PennsValleyFamily.com.  I found most of the session wasn’t applicable to what I saw myself doing on the blog, but for five minutes God used her to speak straight to my heart about His heart.

Laura talked about the three parables in Luke 15—the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the man with two sons. 

Of the shepherd she noted how he left the ninety-nine to go after the one.  She described how he said “I am going to go and be with you.  I am going to bring you home.”

Of the woman who stops to look for the coin, she described the woman’s tenacity.  “I’m going to be with you—search every nook and cranny until I find you.  I’m going to bring you back home.”

Of the Father she describes how he’s looking and he sees his lost son returning home and he runs to him.  He says, “I’m going to be with you, to welcome you.  I’m going to bring you home.” Then when he throws the party for this young son he notices the absence of his eldest son.  Then, too, he goes out to him.  He goes to be with him.  He goes to bring him home.

This is the heart of God.

So Christ comes. 

He comes to fulfill God’s promises.   

He comes to be Emmanuel—“God with us.”  

He comes to do what we could not do for ourselves.  

He comes to live a life obedient to the Father as His treasured child. 

He comes to live among us differently.

He comes to offer himself up for our sins, trusting in God’s goodness.  And God raises Him up from death to life.  He raises him up as an example of how we should live—lovingly and sacrificially as His treasured children.

In Christ, God comes to be with us.  He comes to bring us home.

It has been a month of seeking to receive this amazing gift.  It has been a month of resting in God’s love. It has been a month of seeking to share this gift with others.  It has been a month of living at home.

Now that we are mostly settled at home, I am hoping to be writing in this space again each week.  I am still praying through exactly what that looks like.  I plan to figure that out along the way.

I do know that I look forward to sharing this becoming journey of living at home in the Father's love with you in this New Year.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we receive the gift of the God who came to bring us home.  May we find that it leads us to a life long journey of becoming more and more like Him and living under the banner of His love.

Jessica :)

P.S.  I want to share a video with you of what it might be like to come home and live in the Father's love.  This is a video that Crossroads did in their series called A Journey Home.  It is an imagining of what the morning after the lost son returns home to his father is like.  Receive it as a gift.

Grace for Tough Days

It was early when I woke up, ready to face the day.   

Yet, the only thing that happened the way I’d hoped was that I slept on my pig tails and they still looked okay.

I changed my clothes, brushed my teeth and washed my face. Then, I took the laundry down to stick it into a washer.  When I made it to the laundry room there was one washer left, enough to start, but not to do both loads in my basket. 

This is what happens when you decide to hit snooze a time or two, instead of getting up to your alarm, I thought to myself. 

I loaded my washer and then went to return upstairs.  It was as I stood before the gray box with the solid red light that I realized I had forgotten my key fob in the apartment.  This is a mistake I occasionally make, but as it was before our building’s office hours, I couldn’t sheepishly walk in to ask for help.  Thankfully, another tenant was returning from walking a dog and I was able to catch an elevator up to my floor with her.

It was a half hour later, as I was starting my next load of laundry, when I realized not only had I forgotten a bit of laundry and my quarters, I had left my key fob in the apartment again.  I dashed back into the hallway, hopeful, but there was no dog walking tenant.  I waited, finally saved by someone heading to work for the day. 

When I came back down, nearly an hour later, to pull my first set of laundry out of the dryer I panicked thinking I had put my dry flat, grey sweater in the dryer.  Rooting around with my head in the dryer, I couldn’t find it.

It has been getting easier to laugh at myself.  Yet, thinking about the mistakes piling up during the first few hours of the morning, I was becoming discouraged.  Often, this would set me in a bad mood, but somehow I was earnestly seeking to abide in Christ and it helped.  I wasn’t laughing, but I hadn’t reached the depths of despair either.  It was only laundry, after all.

To combat the frustration, I prayed the honest prayer of the moment as I stood in the laundry room. Lord, you know that one thing after the other is just not going the way I hoped today.  I am making one silly mistake after the other.  Please meet me here.

I moved the first set of dry laundry into the basket.  Then, I opened the washing machine to move the wet laundry to the dryer.  Right on top, I found my grey sweater.  It had not gone through the dryer after all.  Sweet blessing!  Thank you, Lord, I said aloud. 

He does see, I thought to myself.  He does care.  He cares right now, about this small detail.  He is walking with me in this moment—extending undeserved grace.

The day did not end here.  It would have been a nice and tidy story if it had.  Yet, how often is life really that way?  Life is more often filled with mess.  And some days are just tough.

The biggest mistake of the day hadn’t even happened yet. 

Forgetting a key fob is bad.  Forgetting the time you’ve set to meet a friend is worse. 

Yet, that is exactly what happened. 

I was all set to meet my friend at noon.  Then, at 11:15, while I was cleaning around my home, I began to wonder if noon was my lunch date for next week.  It was.  I was supposed to meet this friend at 11:00.  I began to panic, rushing to get out the door.  I called apologetically to let my friend know that I was on the way to my car.  She was very gracious.

As I sat in front of the parking lot gate, I watched it slide slowly to the left, clearing the way for my car.  I thought about God’s grace and began to receive it.  As I did, the pile of guilt that had been forming moved to the side clearing the way for a prayerful drive.  I walked in to lunch, humbled by His goodness in the midst of my brokenness, thankful and very aware of His love.  

It wasn't a perfect day.  But it was a day filled with His grace and love. 

“Grace to all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with an undying love.” Ephesians 6:24

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we receive His grace.  May we live in it.  May we find that it puts our hearts into a good place, even on days where nothing goes the way we hope.  May we find that we are better able to extend His grace because we know what it is to receive it. 

Jessica :)

Love Always Trusts

(A Wrestling Story, Part 2)                                                                               

He looks over at me for a moment as we are driving to his pottery class and asks me a question. 

“Do you know that I love you?”

I was still raw from the digging I’d been doing the night before.  I was trying to receive God’s love, but what was love really anyway?  And how does one receive it?  I know the passage about love in 1 Corinthians.  And I know the passage in 1 John too.  God is love.  He is these things.  So how does a person know them?  And if I’m having a hard time knowing and receiving God’s love how on earth can I know and receive my husband’s love? 

These things flash across my mind.

I shrug saying, “I think so.”

Jason’s unexpected response captures my attention.  “Well.  That’s good.  Because I think that means you’re living in trust.”

We pull into the parking lot of the studio.  We say good-bye with a kiss and I begin driving toward the coffee shop, not too far away.  All the time, his words echo…you’re living in trust.

What does it mean to live in trust?  I wonder. 

I suppose trust is what it is to live in relationship, a healthy one anyway. 

It is daily living in expectant hope of being present to one another.  It is living as though I believe that Jason will be here tomorrow and the next day and all the days after that, until one of us dies.  It is living and knowing that no matter how ugly my behavior is—how I snap or how I bare my teeth—he will be here.  It is living and knowing my doing the dishes or neglecting them—to go for a walk or to make a crafty mess that is not soon cleaned up—will not keep him from being here.  It is believing that he desires and works for my good. 

This is trust.  And in it I think I catch a glimmer of love that is not based on the way I feel. 

So, as I wonder about love, I am able to say with certainty, I do trust him.   I trust that he will walk beside me in all things.  Somehow, I realize that as I trust, I know I am loved— a love that is beyond feelings.  And this love is what my hope is in.  Not only that, but I find that I receive this love and it wells up with a response of its own.  I return his love—in words and action too.

I think of  Corinthians 13:7:  “Love always trusts.”

What surprising joy in discovering this.  For in it, I realize I know God’s love for me too. 

God’s love is so much clearer and longer lasting than a feeling.  I trust that in the ugliest moments of my life God loves me.  He couldn’t love me more, though he may indeed invite me toward a different way of being than I’m living at the moment.  He sent His Son, Jesus, to walk with me.  He has walked with me through all things.  I live expecting daily to meet Him through His Word.  I know His presence in the kind word of encouragement and the big engulfing arms of a friend’s hug.  I know it through the unexpected soft whisper of the Holy Spirit and in the gift of His creation when I catch a whiff of fresh cut roses smelling sweet.  I live trusting Him.

As I live walking in trust, I put my hope in Him.  In doing this, I receive His love.  

The cloud of the last day lifts.  I feel joy as I realize I am loved. 

And I want to live loving back.

"Let us not love with with words or speech but with actions and truth." 1 John 3:18 (NIV)

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we live trusting God.  For when we place our hope in Him we receive his love and it wells up into a response of living love for Him in action.

Jessica :)

...reposted from the archives

Balm for Heavy Hearts

“Rest is a precious ointment, balm for a heavy heart.” –Wayne Muller

Body aching from the

GO,GO, GO

from the busyness of the week.

Tasks waiting—

at home,

in the yard,

in the sink,

the list goes on…

Pull out the precious ointment,

light the candles,

Sit. Be.

Hide away from the noise,

for a few moments,

Quiet. Rest.

Slow down, put on, receive,

balm for a heavy heart.

Take a few moments to pause and read the words of Jesus.

"Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls."  Matthew 11:28-29 NLT

Linger with His words.

Receive His words.

Consider what you need to bring to him that he might give you rest this weekend.

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we come to Jesus.  May we find that God receives all the things that we bring to Him and restores our souls.  In Him, may we find real rest.

Jessica :)

Skeleton Bones

“6:40,” he says across the phone.  I agree that meeting at this time will allow my husband enough time to eat his dinner and walk from the atrium into the auditorium for the Last Wednesday service at 7:00.  It is 5:15 when I hang up.  I'm in the middle of polishing up two pieces for A Becoming Life.  I am in a groove, worshipping in the middle of words.

I look up at 5:45 and grudgingly set aside the computer to whip up a few turkey burgers.  I pull out the onions, cilantro, paprika and other essentials and dump them into the bowl.  I chop the one ingredient I did not prepare earlier in the week, mix it in and form six uniform patties on a cookie sheet lined with foil, and push them into the oven.  I glance at the clock.  It reads 6:10.  Twenty minutes to bake.  At least fifteen minutes, to drive in rush hour and through construction zone traffic.  I begin to panic.

While the burgers bake, I get everything ready to go.  It’s a nice distraction, really.  I prepare dinner to go, for both Jason and myself, since I certainly will not be eating it before I leave.  I clean up the kitchen.  At least there will not be dishes when we get home, I think, grasping at anything to keep my mind off of the sense of failure that is creeping towards me.

As soon as the timer sounds I pull the burgers out and slap them onto their respective buns and make a mad dash out the door.  As I wait for the slow gates to open at the edge of our apartment’s parking lot I pray for green lights and less traffic than usual.  It doesn’t happen.

“I’m running late,” I call through the phone as I sit in a line of cars waiting to turn onto the highway. 

“Oh good.  So am I,” he responds.

I think to myself, you will not be nearly as late as I am and I should have tried going a different direction to bypass this line.  Then, I take a deep breath and say good-bye.

It is 6:55 when I finally pull into the parking lot.  We eat dinner.  We walk toward the building where the words of our worship leader are coming over the loud speakers as we draw near the doors.  He’s praying a prayer about leaving the day behind.  He is trying to still us as we enter the presence of God as a community. 

My heart is just pounding with the hurry that is coursing through my veins.  We are here to worship.  I want to.  That is why we planned to come.  That is why we are here.  And yet, the last thing I feel ready to do is that.  Where did that peace and sense of His presence I felt as I sat tapping away the words go?

I’m agitated at my tardiness and failure to get us fed like I agreed to.  I’m annoyed with my husband who is saying he needs eye drops badly and is asking if I have any.  I just want to find a seat and there don’t seem to be many of those left tonight.  I don’t think pausing to scream would help, though it might if I could just go into the bathroom and cry for a bit.

We finally find a seat on the side where we can’t see real well, just enough.  Jason runs off to find allergy drops around the corner at the Meijer.  I stand and let the music roll over me and listen, because I’m just not in a very worshipful way of being.  Instead of joyous at heart I’m disgruntled and frustrated.  I’m trying to find my way back.

I pause and call out an honest prayer in a whisper. 

“God I’m here, but I’m feeling like I was better doing this worship thing at home.  Something about messing up the schedule for dinner and meeting and rushing has just knocked me out of a place of abiding in Your presence.  I know that you are here.  I know that you were there at home.  I know that you were in all the crazy places in between.  You are so generous with your grace.  I need to receive it.  I need to know that arriving just when I did tonight was okay.  I think I cared about being on time more than You did.  I give all this to you.  Meet me here.” 

I take a few deep breaths and just listen to the words that everyone around me is singing.

“Skeleton bones stand at the sound of eternity

On the lips of the found

So separate those doors

And let the son of resurrection in”

As they come to the end of the chorus our pastor comes out and begins to read from Ezekiel.

The Lord took hold of me, and I was carried away by the Spirit of the Lord to a valley filled with bones.  He led me all around among the bones that covered the valley floor.  They were scattered everywhere across the ground and were completely dried out.  Then he asked me, “Son of man, can these bones become living people again?”

“O Sovereign Lord,” I replied, “you alone know the answer to that.”

Then he said to me, “Speak a prophetic message to these bones and say, ‘Dry bones, listen to the word of the Lord!   This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Look! I am going to put breath into you and make you live again!

He explains that the song we’re singing is really describing the way that the Holy Spirit can fill up our dry bones and allow us to really live.  Right here.  Right now.  If we let Him.

This is what I need to hear.  I am these dry bones.  And I need to be filled with life.  His life.  I receive these words from Scripture.  I receive the words of the song. 

In this place—paused, attentive, waiting—my heart refocuses on Christ.

Again the community around me begins to sing.

“Oh let us adore the
Son of Glory drenched in love
Open up your gates before him
Crown Him, stand Him up”

Sometimes this is what discipleship is...refocusing our hearts on Christ.

As they sing the refrain again, I join in, heart ripe with worship.

***

 Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we seek to worship with right hearts.  May we find that He fills our dry bones with the Holy Spirit.  And in this may we find much joy.

Jessica :)

P.S.  In case you're curious about the song it is "Skeleton Bones" by John Mark McMillan.  McMillan wrote the popular song "How He Loves."  You might like to check him out. 

 I will put flesh and muscles on you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”  Ezekiel 37:1-6 NLT