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.

What Grows in Waiting Spaces

by 4 Comments

I met with a new friend yesterday. We’d scheduled to meet twice before, and both times we’d cancelled – because work, because travel, because life. January became July, and we finally made a date we didn’t have to break.

We were just two white gals with our laptops in Starbucks, still strangers, but deep in conversation, deeply connected by the conversation the Spirit of God had been having in both our hearts since January. And I realized while sitting there, in those six months of broken connection, God had been breaking common ground within us. There was purpose in His timing.

A few months back, my daughter and I strolled to the mailbox in the dark. I’d been waiting for the magazine that had printed my words, and for 7 days at least, I’d hustled to the mailbox in expectation, all the while, tamping my enthusiasm, just in case. On the way, I said I’d give up waiting if it wasn’t there.

It wasn’t there.

And on the way home, I said I’d keep waiting after all, because I’m wired to be a hopeful dreamer, even though sometimes, I wish I wasn’t. Carrying hope is tiring. Endurance exposes my weakness.

But that’s just it – I practice endurance. I finish my chores all the way before I cross them off. I get 5 hours of exercise a week, no questions asked. And when something comes out of me that isn’t a fruit of the Spirit, I give my heart a full examination, confront the problem, and dig it out. I take risks that could end in crushing disappointment – and sometimes they have. Endurance and waiting should be easier by now.

I took a risk last week and now I’m in the restless space between hope born and hope realized. I see it on the horizon sometimes, and I nod. I like seeing it there, expecting something ahead, but for now, I’m in the waiting space, the space of dependence, the space of patience. The space where I find out I’m not that patient.

These are the times when I when I chew gum like fiend, my jaw pounding harder than my heartbeat. These are the times when I criticize my body, holding the old lie that if I looked better, life would be better. These are the times the doubt voice is loudest and the accusations make more sense than the truth. These are the times when I wonder why I fiddle with hope at all, because courage takes guts and guts require hustle and sometimes I’d rather just wrap myself in the comfy blanket of apathy and drink my coffee without a single thought in my head, for heaven’s sake.

It’s a lie though. Who would I be without hope?

The journey of spiritual growth doesn’t have blankets, it has covers – of peace and strength, patience and ridiculous courage. Faith assures us what we see isn’t the whole picture and what we can’t see yet – the purpose and good of it all – will push through only if we do. Enduring hope is the journey; hope realized is hindsight. It’s when we see the gathering of many pieces in His perfect timing. It’s when we see ourselves at a table, connecting with someone of similar spirit, saying things we couldn’t have understood without the journey and the space to grow.

The spaces in which we wait aren’t times, but timing. I struggle to believe it in the waiting, but it always proves true in the end. God has the supernatural ability to finish everything He starts. We carry hope and He carries out His purpose – every time.

In all that you wait for and hope for, be encouraged, friend. And keep on.

 

Everyone needs truth. If One More Truth will encourage someone you know, feel free to share. Find weekly posts on Instagram: @onemoretruth

 

 

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!