One More Truth

Reflections on faith, truth, and being human

Search Results for: journey faith

The journey of faith, the surrender of prayer

by 7 Comments

At the age of 64, my dad took a huge leap of faith and did something most wouldn’t consider at his age: he resigned from the church he pastored, and he and my mom moved across the country. My dad, the planner, mapped a six week road trip, a tour that wound them through the towns of their childhoods, national landmarks, museums, bucket list sights, points of interest, and thanks to my dad’s clever planning, they even trekked through the few states they’d never seen. By the time they reached my house – the last stop before their new state of residence – several things were certain: my parents could proudly say they’d been to all 50 states; they were eager to eat home cooked meals; and they were tired of living out of a suitcase. With so many miles and weeks and history between them and their old home, they were ready to venture the final 12 hours to their new home.

But tired as they were and ready as they were, there was something unsettling about arriving ‘home’ – there would be no more map. Long as it may have been, the journey across America had been a predictable journey. They awoke knowing where they were headed, they could reasonably estimate how long it would take, and the destination at the end of the day was the destination they had intended to reach. Every place had its unique delights and surprises, but the road trip itself had been a month and a half of anticipated outcomes.

New home, however, was a blank canvas. There was a house to find and new employment to secure, and neither of these things would be a one day road trip. Months after settling into their house, my dad was still sending out resumes, interviewing, and making follow up calls. He kept in forward motion, volunteering and meeting new people. Some days offered new possibilities, other days closed the door on hopeful prospects, but every day was a waiting day. He could choose to do many things, but the outcome was out of his hands.

Empty feelings find us when we’re waiting in the blank canvas spaces, when we can’t see the big picture and we’re unable to paint our desired outcome. Weaknesses are exposed and fear and insecurities surface. My dad wrestled the fear that his age was an obstacle, a seeming disadvantage he could do nothing about. He concluded he had two choices: He could trust God, or not. There was no in between. He could feel powerless against disadvantages or trust God’s power. He could consider waiting as wasted time, or trust it was training. He could hold on to fear, or hold on to the God of hope. Following the example of his namesake, David, my dad took everything to God in prayer – his age, his efforts, the waiting, the disappointment, and the questions. He trusted God could take all the ungood and make something good.

Wide open spaces of uncertainty are the journey places we’d avoid if given the choice, but these tough places are trust places – places where the complexity and simplicity of faith stretch for miles and we must choose our form of surrender: give up or let go. We assume weakness or resume in His strength. Doubt consumes us or we let worry go. We claim empty and quit or we gather the full confidence of hope and continue trusting the God of our faith’s beginning; continue trusting that He sees what we can’t see. Surrender prayers are the privilege of faith, not because they assure certain outcomes, but because in prayer we are reassured that God – though unseen – is certainly with us, now and forever.

My dad is now the prayer pastor of a Christian radio station, where his job is literally praying for every request a listener sends in and personally responding to each one. I imagine those responses are read with a sigh of relief, not because my dad understands all the mysteries of God, but because He understands the heaviness of desperate prayers, and the importance of grit kind of scriptures that strengthen weary hands in waiting. His age is no longer a disadvantage, but a gift of wisdom and tenderness. God is using the trials of faith for good. And my dad, the prayer pastor, is encouraging others, by faith, to keep going and keep holding hope in the God who can be trusted.

 

My friends, One More Truth is 3 years old! Want to see where the journey began? Right here.

Moving in the tension, seeing God in the middle

by 3 Comments

Most Sunday mornings my husband and I bike out to a local coffee shop. There are several reasons for this Sabbath routine: we like the exercise, we like coffee, we like mornings, and we like each other. It’s a win-win-win-win. And being morning people, we’re terrible about going on traditional dates because a conversation such as, ‘Hey, it’s Friday night, and after a long work week I’m exhausted, but let’s get all fancy, go to a restaurant where we can’t hear over the terrible choice in music, and pretend we’re enjoying an over-priced dinner, even though right this moment, we’re literally feet away from a fridge stocked with delicious food, which we could eat most contentedly without excusing frequent yawning’ isn’t a conversation we have very often. Boring, I know, but practical has its own elegance. You can quote me on that.

We recently biked on both Saturday and Sunday, which had us feeling fit, well-caffeinated, and fantastic. Until Sunday’s ride home. The miles already pedaled had trashed our quads, making the ride a little tougher, but the fatigue got real when we were assaulted by gale-force winds that never, ever let up…for six and a half miles. It was grueling. And that’s the benefit of biking far distances – there’s only one way to get where I want to be, and if that means pedaling tornado winds ‘til I get there, then pedal I must.

I need those forced opportunities where want joins will; where I’m reminded I’m capable of doing hard things. Muscles don’t grow stronger without resistance. Holistic growth is the same. Mental and emotional growth won’t happen without pause and healthy introspection. Letting go of good things lost or destructive things held is a process of discipline. Naming triggers and taming trigger responses takes consistent practice. Strength of spirit develops in change and adjustment. Fulfilling relationships require real intention. And let’s not forget, fetuses grow for 9 extremely long months – proof the growing of a person takes effort and time.

Often it’s the time-taking things that feel like the hardest things, because the middle…the middle is so dang long! But when I appreciate the journey for what it is, I find joy in the experience. I notice the beauty around me and learn to be grateful for the breath in my lungs and the strength to move forward.

It’s in the middle I discover the truth about growing and being alive.

That it’s ok to be uncomfortable. It’s ok to hurt. It’s ok to be misunderstood. It’s ok if I don’t quite understand or if things don’t make sense. It’s ok to be in between the start of change and the finish line. It’s ok to be who I am right now while striving to become. It’s ok if the distance ahead isn’t a feel-good number. It’s ok to be in the middle, it’s ok to feel the tension and resistance, because the only way through it is through it, so just

keep

moving

forward.

Counter-cultural truths, I know. Resisting the mindset of convenient, comfortable, and quickly achieved is a challenge, but I’m opening up to the in-between places – they’re the only spaces with room enough for the flourishing life I want most. Humility and gentleness, patience and wisdom, love for others and for myself – I want those things! You know when I’ve seen them take root? In the struggle. In the resolving of conflict. In the pushing through sticking points. In the forgiving and moving on. In the middle of resistance and the winds of change. The best things in life don’t come easy, but they’re worth the diligence. Diligence grows the good stuff.

I’m sort of in the middle right now, pedaling through gusts, pushing with diligence. Maybe you are, too. Take courage – middle places are where we see God. And He is faithful. When we do the trusting work of diligently moving toward Him, He graciously meets us in the middle, completing our efforts in His time, in His plan, in the journey.

 

Would this post help someone you know? Please share it!

 

Messy, beautiful, and thankful

by 5 Comments

It’s been a messy few weeks. Among our household of 6, we’ve had ingrown toenail surgery (twice), a fever, a strep test, tension headaches, a twisted ankle, chest pains, a touch of pneumonia, and a couple of non-emergency/preventative trips to the ER. There are a dozen more appointments scheduled before the end of the year. Never mind the final exams, the missing glasses, the parking ticket, vehicle repairs, and the broken vacuum that had to be replaced after many years of faithful service (RIP, trusty old pal). I couldn’t have possibly chosen a better month than December for extra expenses. Like I said, messy.

It’s kind of been an entire year like that. Several times I’ve thought to myself that there are pieces of the year I desperately hope I never remember – like my multiple speeding tickets, or the times I lost my temper, or the tragic sobs of my children as I explained to them as best I could that their brand new dog had unfortunately drowned. And I pray I remember little about the sporadic days of 2015 when I struggled against the familiar foe of darkness; those slight brushes of depression that never hold me tightly, but certainly fog my outlook with unwanted fear. Truth be told, I’m looking forward to 2016…

It’s been a beautiful few weeks. Among our busy household of 6, we’ve discovered many moments when all of us are together in the same room, laughing, talking, and sharing. We’ve enjoyed overall good health, delicious and plentiful food, and needs have always been met. God blessed us with reasonably priced plane tickets, giving us the intoxicating opportunity to hop on a red eye, fly across the country, and surprise our family for Thanksgiving. And after a few chats with our leasing agent and renters, we finally have hope that the house we own in Virginia will be purchased by our renters this spring.

It’s been an entire year like that. After scanning Craig’s List for only a few months, we finally found the perfect dog. My oldest graduated from high school, snagged a great job, and passed her first semester of college with a solid B average. My husband landed an interview with Google, had wisdom enough to turn down the second interview, and began a journey toward learning how not to work himself to death. My son made his first home run as we watched and held our breath, my junior higher guest cheered – all smiles – at the high school football game, and my youngest found creative happiness in lumps of clay at a local pottery class. Above all else, my children love Jesus and aren’t afraid to show it in their own individual style. And even in my fog, I enjoyed sunrises and sunsets, friends, family, and pivotal moments with Jesus; moments that filled me with breath, and peace, and clarity. Like I said, beautiful. And I’m looking forward to a beautiful new year.

Life is beautiful, but it ain’t always pretty. You can face the unpretty days with the same grit and grace as the beautiful days. The key is thankfulness.

Scientific research confirms that journaling gratitudes on a daily basis enhances life satisfaction within weeks, not to mention the other emotional and interpersonal benefits of a grateful focus. Various authors of the Bible said the same thing thousands of years ago, minus the statistics and fancy words like ‘research’ or ‘psychological’. They simply closed their letters with concise commands like, “Give thanks” and “Be thankful”, to remind us to live a continual lifestyle of thankfulness.

But let’s be clear. A lifestyle of thankfulness doesn’t mean journaling things you’re not truly thankful for in the spirit of trying to be positive. It doesn’t suggest masking problems so that no one else sees you unsettled. It doesn’t require clever tricks for pretending that there are never days that just plain stink. A thankful heart isn’t ignorant or dismissive.

A thankful heart is honest and pure. Thankfulness is a step toward God’s wisdom, even on the days that don’t make sense. Especially on those days. When darkness is thick and heavy, thankfulness means looking for where His light is breaking through. Thankfulness is finding yourself in a giant mess of loss, or confusion, or uncertainty and still having faith enough to shout, “Even in this mess, Jesus, I still have You!”

Emmanuel. ‘God with us’.

In times of upset, the Prince of Peace is with us.

On overwhelming days, the Wonderful Counselor is with us.

When we couldn’t be more powerless, the Mighty God is with us.

The Creator of everything, the Savior of the world is with us, and He is with us because He loves us. That’s beautiful. That’s a reason to be thankful.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

 

20/20 and seeing the real thing

by 1 Comment

After squinting at the board, my first grade teacher recommended to my parents that I take a trip to the eye doctor. If I remember correctly, the blurry word had been ‘shark’. Why I remember this but can’t remember to floss, I do not know, but lots of people recall strange pieces of childhood and lots of people have food stuck in their teeth, so I’m clearly not alone on either point. Only a few letters into the eye chart and my teacher’s suspicions were confirmed – I was in desperate need of glasses.
(This is one thing she got right. Read my former post for further explanation about her ‘unrightness’ when she dashed my rainbow dreams.)

I. Could. Not. Wait. I called the optometrist’s office everyday to ask if my new specs were ready. (Yes, I called them at the fresh age of 7. What kind of kid was I?) In my mind, wearing glasses would magically make me cool and this silly belief fueled my persistent inquiry, but you and I both know those heavy coke bottle lenses were FAR less than cool. Being only 7, I was blissfully unaware of this…for a few short days.

Had I known how wonderfully my binocular-grade eyewear would help me see, I might have called the eye doctor 3 times a day instead of only once. I had no idea everyone else could see more than 5 feet in front of them! So horribly near-sighted were my little peepers, I developed splitting headaches from reading with such a strong power and found myself wearing bifocals a year later. The cool factor was squashed for sure – annihilated, actually – so I cozied into the four eyes stereo-type by reading every book in the library and by shrugging and smiling through years of PE and comments like, “Geez, Michelle, the ball was right in front of you!”

Contacts in high school made my vision sharper AND gave the bridge of my nose a much-needed rest, but laser-correction as an adult gave me the eyesight of an eagle. I can see individual leaves on trees, signs far in the distance, and now I’m the one people come to when they drop something tiny on the floor.

While recently driving my youngest to the optometrist to pick up her first pair of glasses (it was inevitable), I had trouble explaining to her what corrected vision would be like.

“You’ll see a lot better.”
“Everything will be clearer.”
“Nothing will be blurry.”

These promises all sounded great to my sight-impaired little one, but she wouldn’t grasp the meaning of these statements or comprehend these ideas until the glasses were placed on her precious face. She wouldn’t fully understand “better” or “clearer” until she saw things clearly for herself.

I know Jesus and His unmatched love. I’ve experienced His forgiveness. Hope, freedom, peace – these are concepts I understand because my relationship with Jesus is real. But how could I ever adequately explain my faith or describe my relationship with Jesus by using only words? Words fall flat next to genuine, personal experience. Talking about (and yes, writing about) Jesus thrills me not simply because I want people to hear about Jesus or know things about Him. My true desire is that people would look for Jesus on their own – to see Him for themselves. That’s when personal faith starts to make sense. That’s when it becomes real.

I’ve dipped my toes into the turquoise water of Haiti’s Wahoo Bay, peered over the edge of the wide open Grand Canyon, and journeyed across the stones of Prague’s ancient Charles Bridge. Perhaps future posts will give you a glimpse of these fantastic places, but you’ll never fully realize the outrageous beauty until you witness it for yourself. With every post I attempt to explain the truths of Jesus Christ and His Word, but every feeble effort is sincerely made to point you toward Jesus. His love is impossible to explain. You have to see Him and know Him for yourself.