Fighting for my baby

I started to feel like I was going into labour.  I was surprised because I did not even know I was pregnant.  A midwife led me to a bed and scanned my tummy and told me that the baby had not survived.  I did not believe her and after a few pushes, out came a smaller-than-newborn, but good-sized baby boy.  He wasn’t moving, but I knew he was not dead.  I breathed on him and he started breathing.  Precious, surprising, awe-inspiring life. I had so much certainty that that little life was going to be.  I could feel my mother instinct-faith rising up, and there was no way anyone was going to tell me otherwise.  I was fighting for that child, and although obviously premature, that baby was going to be fine, and there was no way anyone else was going to take him away from me. 

Shortly after giving birth I was handed another baby to adopt.  I looked at the baby and did not recognize it.  I could see the boy had already had the newborn vaccines as a little band-aid covered his shoulder, and he had clearly already been cared for in the nursery.  I was asked if I would accept this baby.  I said I would.  Because who else would take it?  Because I could. Because I was willing.  But I felt no connection with this baby. If someone else had shown up at that moment and offered to take the baby, I probably would not have minded.  

That was the dream I had on Thursday morning around dawn.  

And it made me reflect on the importance of the spiritual birthing process.  

How often do I want a breakthrough without the pain? How often do I want the product without the process? 

But it is the pain of the process, the fighting, the endurance that grows our faith, gives us perspective and makes us take responsibility for the breakthrough.  The adopted baby I was offered, I knew I could love.  Logically, practically I could do it.  But I didn’t have the same feelings of ownership and responsibility for that child.  I wasn’t willing to fight for him like I was for the one I had birthed.  Even though I did not even know about him before I birthed him, and even though I was first told about him when he was supposedly already dead, I refused to let go.  I refused to accept anything but life from that body.  That baby had been given to me and I was going to take full responsibility for him.  In the dream I knew that if God had given me that child, he was going to live. 

If we don’t go through a birthing process for our breakthroughs, then maybe we are less willing to fight in prayer for them when things look bleak.  If we have no assurance that God has given us responsibility for a gift, talent, breakthrough, change in direction, etc, then when the enemy comes against us, how willing are we to fight? How much more quickly does doubt about God’s will come? How much more quickly are we willing to let things go? If the adopted baby had started looking unhealthy, I would honestly probably had felt relief a lot more quickly, not having taken on the responsibility in my heart for that child. 

And so that lead me to look at the areas where there are growing pains, birthing pains going on at the moment in my life: an overflowing, overwhelming house; my personal struggles for joy and gratitude; struggles in our team with sickness; our bank balance struggling to provide for the extra costs a growing household requires. What if we used those difficulties to alert us to that breakthrough is coming? What if we took hold of those struggles by the collar and looked at them straight and began thanking God for the life that is coming?  That we began to allow those birthing cries to be lifted up to God and call out to Him for things to come into alignment.  If we begin to trust that those pains are not indigestion but birthing pains.  That the baby is not dead, despite what others may say, but that our belief, our holding fast to the promise God has given us, will be rewarded and that the more intense the pain, the nearer the breakthrough. 

So I am asking God to show me His perspective this week.  I am asking Him to tell me about the babies we are birthing, the gifts He is releasing, the transitions He is orchestrating, the shifts that are happening, the areas where the enemy is getting nervous and acting out and kicking and screaming because he knows his time is short.  If only we will hold on.  Persevere.  Pray.  Hold on fast to Him.  If only we will stand on the Rock and trust that what He promised will be.  

So where are the struggles in your life this week? Be encouraged.  Breakthrough is coming.  If you will only hold on.  And cry out to Him. 

I waited patiently for the Lord;
    he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
    out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
    and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth,
    a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the Lord
    and put their trust in him.

- Psalm 40

When My Mind Drowns Out Peace

Anxiety has been a heavy itchy blanket I have been trying to put down over the last few weeks.  I feel like I have been rushing here and there – from helping to lead a team, to trying to be a loving, listening wife, to homeschooling and parenting the children, to taking the odd moments to write down the many ideas I have in my head and think about how to turn them into writing. 

I keep trying to shake this blanket off.  And trying to be still.  To spend time in worship in the mornings and quiet myself before Him.  But this noisy parrot of a brain keeps on at me, reminding me of this or that. 

I had enough.  Didn’t Jesus promise peace? In the storms He slept and He told the disciples: In this world you will have many troubles, but…I leave you my Peace.

Peace.  That is what I am struggling to feel right now.  How is it that I can lose a baby and feel His overshadowing peace through it all and now I can’t even feed Kaleb porridge without losing the peace I have gained in my quiet time?

So I spent a week, waiting for peace to come.  My mind all over the place, urging me to keep on, keep busy, keeping going, all the time knowing this needs to stop.  The tensions of ministry, motherhood and creativity surely don’t have to look like this?

So I asked God to show me the roots of this anxiety. 

I surprised myself when the first word I wrote down was ‘perfectionism’.  Now perhaps this won’t surprise those who know me, but it actually surprised me.  Not because I am not aware of a past of perfectionism, but because I was surprised it had become a present.  Yes, I like to do things well, but I am actually generally very flexible with things not being done and I generally don’t have a problem extending grace to others.

But then again – how good am I at accepting grace for myself?

Where had doing things in His strength and His freedom and His Spirit suddenly become about doing it in mine? These standards, this legalism that I was holding over myself – why had they just intruded my being?

And once again, I realize that I had made it about me, instead of about Him, and so it was no wonder that I couldn’t hold on to the ever-accelerating roundabout. 

And I realized how much of my life is supernatural – that I can’t do anything without Him and it is truly Him who holds it all together. 

And so I have decided to hand it all back over to Him again.  Because He can do it peacefully. And I can’t.

God, the one and only—

    I’ll wait as long as he says.

Everything I need comes from him,

    so why not?

He’s solid rock under my feet,

    breathing room for my soul,

An impregnable castle:

    I’m set for life.

God said this once and for all;

    how many times

Have I heard it repeated?

    “Strength comes

Straight from God.

Psalm 62:1 & 11. 

Keep on Keeping On... Monday...

(I posted this last week on our family blog, but I wanted to share it here too for those who don't read our family blog...)


I am awake at 5am.  Kaleb is not getting the ‘sleep until 6’ memo.  I decide to use the time to pray.  I fight back sleepy eyes, choosing to trust that God knows and His strength is enough.

6am I spend an hour with the Lord as Mark makes the boys breakfast.  His Word sinks convictingly deep and I drag my guitar case onto my bed to force myself to worship – it is my self-subscribed medicine against that dark cloud at the moment.  I have to worship.  It has to be all about Him.  It just doesn’t work when it begins to be about me.

 

8am – It’s Joel’s first day back at nursery and after supervising the feeding of all our animals (a rabbit, a tortoise and three guinea pigs), I pile all the boys into the car.  They are all in good spirits, excited.  I ask them what they are thankful for as we drive and the two who can talk are both thankful for Joel going to nursery.  I am thankful for the provision to pay for it.  In my mind, the negative bank balance threatens me but I push it away, telling it that God has always provided up until now – there is no reason why this month will be any different.

8.40am I join our community prayers (40 minutes late) in the living room. Everyone is sharing their personal discipline challenges.  I feel my life is so disciplined and ordered that I need to be disciplined to allow ‘go with the flow!’… 

By 9am I am sat down with Daniel guiding him through his homeschool curriculum on pollution and valuing earth’s resources, and that verse I read this morning: If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them continues to nag at me all morning. It nags at me as I make lunch for just 5 adults and 3 children today (lasagna – the 5 other regulars are busy today) throw the unnecessary polythene wrapping into the bin whilst thinking how I need to communicate with Mark to try and buy things with less wrapping…

The downstairs is a total mess.  The lady who comes to help clean in the mornings hasn’t arrived and the sink is piled with dishes, the floor covered in mess (having over a dozen people coming and going all day and 25 for lunch yesterday takes its toll, to add to the boys!).  How am I going to homeschool, cook and clean before 11.50am?? The Lord knows – I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.  Rosa offers to wash up and clean the kitchen so I do a quick toy and book blast-clear-up, stuffing toys into boxes, and aligning cushions.  There. Sufficient. Perhaps it will be okay.

The liquidizer gets a double use today – once for the veg for the lasagna (hidden vegetables are the only sort that get eaten by my boys), and once to make paper pulp.  It seems ironic to me that I use up more paper towels cleaning up the water mess than I ‘save’ by making recycled paper, but Daniel loves it and we add dried leaves and oregano into the paper as it dries in the hot, hot sun.

By 11.30am I am wondering if we will get the paper and the lasagna done before 11.50am when I have to go and pick up Joel.  The garden is so dry from lack of watering (we live in a desert so there is no natural rain), that I stick the hose on. I try to remind myself that a) it doesn’t matter if I am slightly late to pick up Joel, and b) God knows what I need to do – he will work it out.  Trying to speak out that faith, but my stress levels are beginning to rise…

I am 10 minutes late to pick up Joel.  At least Kaleb is wearing a pair of shoes that don’t fall off his feet this time.  I apologize to Joel’s teacher and she is not in the least bit bothered.  Peering into the classroom, I can see why – we may be the first ones to pick up.  Well, this is Peru…! Joel is happy and communicative (amazing!) and we drive home trying to get Kaleb to sing the odd words in our songs. Us: Cows in the kitchen… Kaleb: Moo…moo…! Daniel and Joel are in hysterics and I am reminded that they are so carefree and I am meant to be like them, not them like me…anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it…

12.40pm: For some unknown reason I let Kaleb and Joel play with the hose (yes, it is still going) and Kaleb gets soaked whilst Joel constantly asks me if he can play carnavales – basically he wants me to fill up 100 water balloons for him.  (Now is it more of a waste to have them stuck unused on the fridge, or burst and in a landfill?!) There is no way that lunch is going to be ready if I stop for the balloons, but I do have to stop every 2 minutes to tell Joel ‘no’ and re-explain to him why… The postman arrives bringing magazines from G.G. and chocolate.  (2 of the 3 bars are melted, but nothing the fridge won’t sort out… well, those aero bubbles are never coming back, but it still tastes good!) Daniel is now unreachable, lost in the world of his magazine.

12.45pm: Sink is full of washing up from cooking.  Kaleb is totally soaked. New nappy now totally soaked. Strip him down and let him run around for 2 minutes whilst I check on the lasagna. Kaleb comes into the kitchen. ‘poo…poo’.  Uh-oh.  A solid, no-mess poop sits in the doorway.  I quickly grab a wipe and clear it up.  Phew. Easy. 

‘poo…poo’.  I look at Kaleb.  He is pointing to the porch.  A squashed poop sits there laughing at me.  I lift both his feet and give them a wipe.  Another wipe clears up the rest of the mess. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.   I find another nappy quickly. 

Wash hands. Wash dishes. Check lasagna.  Grab Kaleb before he terrorizes the guinea pigs with his toy cars.  Yell at Daniel and Joel to go and get dressed for lunch. (They are both in their underpants from watering the garden).  Joel hears me, Daniel is engrossed in his magazine. 

1pm Amanda arrives with baby Judah for lunch.  Mark and Shaun are close behind.  We sit down to eat.  Joel finally eats his lasagna when we convince him that it is just spaghetti Bolognese with cheese and flat pasta.  Kaleb takes two bites out of a piece of fried banana and refuses to eat anything else. Daniel finishes up his plate.

By 2.00pm Mark has the boys for an hour and a half so I can rest/catch up on admin.  Today, the only thing that is happening is a nap.  I put on some music (Volume 1: Psalms 1-10 by The Psalms Project) and enter the land of nod. 

3.30pm I am with the boys again.  Kaleb wants milk and tries to fall asleep, but it is too late for a nap if we want him bed before 10pm, so I get up quickly and head for the stoller.  Kaleb is protesting and I am groggy from my sleep, feeling irritated and wanting to run back to my bedroom and lock the door, but I can’t.  Remind myself that a walk will get rid of that grogginess and get the boys ready to go out.  Mark is busy until 7pm. That’s 3.5 hours to kill.  Walking to the cremolada shop and back should kill two hours and then we can come back, eat and make cards and then it should be ready for the bedtime hour. 

By the time all the boys are in bed at 7pm I am tired, irritated and thankful.  I think back on the day, which feels like three days in one.  Thankful for the people God has sent to help with the boys and the mess and to allow my time with Him and to nap.  He truly does enable me to do all the things I need to do. And as for the other things that didn’t get done? There is always tomorrow…or the next day… 

I remind myself that it is all about one step at a time…so thankful that God doesn’t give up on me for my daily messes but that He takes me by the hand and reminds me: I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. 

Fighting into the Promised Land

I wrote this post a few weeks ago, when I was really fighting for joy... Thankfully, the dark cloud has now lifted, but I still wanted to share this post with you, because I know it will ring true for some, and also I, personally, need to be reminded...! 

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My peach tree – the one I planted three years ago in my new garden in my new house – this year it bloomed and blossomed and hundreds of peaches fell and swelled on the branches and the tree began to fall forward under the weight of the fruit.

I tied it to a nail in the wall. 

After a few days, the nail fell out.

But I now notice that the tree is no longer falling forward.  The trunk is firm.  The support is no longer needed.

Right now, I am being tugged and weighed down and I am stooped over.  My roots are too shallow and they gasp for water, shaken and helpless against the wind. 

And what is my support? My husband, caring, listening, stopping to ask how I am doing today.  Doing really well at showing interest in things he does not care too much about. My community bringing hugs and smiles and prayers and not expecting everything to be perfect. 

But the growth is going on at the roots.  I can feel them wrestling against the rocks, searching desperately for firm, saturated ground.  Unseen refreshment.

I have been promised some Promised Land.  But I am struggling having to fight to get there.

Remembering that the Promised Land wasn’t entered into without a fight.

But also that that fight was more about faith than it was about weapons.

So I fight forward.  Remember the things I have learned along the way – that the fight for joy starts step by step with thankfulness.  Thankfulness spoken out.   Spoken thankfulness is the hardest right now.  I feel fuzzy and overcome and like hell is doing everything to stick my lips together.

The fight for joy is ushered in by my music, and worship and declaration of who You are.  First listening, praying, leaning on You; crying out for You inside and hoping so much that I will be able to speak it out loud.

Jesus never promised a calm lake. Wasn’t it into the wind and waves that Peter stepped into Jesus’ path? Isn’t He calling me too to step into the storm – in faith – and keep my eyes fixed on Him?

Why am I so scared of drowning, if I know He will pick me up?

And although I'm scared, I know that the supernatural happens so often when the choice is life or death and I choose life.  And You prefer that I try and begin to sink than not get out of the boat at all.  

I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; 

I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. 

-Psalm 9:1

My peeling facemask

I struggle.  I struggle with the idea of struggling. 

There.  My mask is off.  More like a face mask – those peel-off ones I loved as a 14 year old, that pulled out those black-heads so satisfactorily.  Except, this time, I didn’t realize I was wearing the mask.

Part of my soul offered out, exposed.  And the waves of vulnerability break upon the shoreline of pride.  Or is it uncertainty?

Uncertainty of who this woman is.  This 28 year old, so used to going it alone, and no longer wanting to.  So used to fighting forward through the darkness of evil come against her, and fighting so confidently that when a punch comes in from the side I am suddenly thrown off-guard.  My roots are rocked and in this dry, dry soil they are desperately seeking for water.  Trusting that it has to be there.  Just.  Need. To. Go. Deeper…

 My mask collection actually consists of various happy faces: the super missionary; the calm, patient mother; the ever-loving, perseverant wife; the expert homeschool teacher; the compassionate pastor’s wife; the loyal friend; the wise older sister.

I love for you to admire my masks and marvel at my strength.

But any strength that is there is either a mask or not mine.  I would love to say that it is always His, but my own insecurities have not yet been melted away by His perfection.

And besides, in this desert I am finding it difficult to see His radiance beyond the glare of my own anxieties.

And these anxieties annoy me.  They rub against me.  The feel so old – so last decade, so coming of age.  Did I not throw them off?  Am I not now a woman: wonder-woman?

Where did they come from? Where did they creep up from these voids in my soul that are cracking my face mask and causing it to peel?

And Jesus. Beautiful, patient, arms-stretched-out Jesus.  You know.  And yet you still love.  You laugh joyfully and wholly and your laugh tells me I am your child and you accept me as I am.  That you find the masks quirky and silly and totally unnecessary and that you love the beauty of the face beneath – the exposed one, which can only go out in public with Him. 

And you remind me of the lies that the devil tries to tell me: search yourself. Keep looking at yourself – maybe you will get to the bottom of this uneasiness.

And instead, you tell me:

Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self.

(Matthew 16:24-26 The Message)

Battles in the bedroom

One of the things my Dad told me when Mark and I were recently married (and in the middle of an argument) was that we needed to acknowledge the powers of darkness in our fights. 

Satan doesn’t like marriage and he will do all he can to get you to be divided.

My Dad told me that he had learned to leave an argument he was having with my Mum, go to the bathroom and pray, and command the hand of the enemy to leave the place.  On returning he would find the emotions in the discussion diffused. 

What does respect mean anyway?

“You are a terrible mother, and a terrible wife.  Totally disrespectful.”

Those might not have been the exact words, but that’s how I heard them.  They then went on to list all the reasons why.

Mark sat there with me and said nothing.

The arrows sunk in deeper.

When God Exposed My Unforgiveness

In the book of Judges, peace was only experienced AFTER a battle had been won. 

A battle had to be entered into first, to gain the ground that was Israel's by inheritance, but which had been lost by unfaithfulness and not holding true to God’s ways.

God started speaking to me in my quiet time on Monday.  He told me to grab a pen, and I assumed He would start talking to me about the things that were anxiously on my heart – He didn’t.  He started to talk to me more generally about peace and about areas where I had battled in my life.  

In those areas where I had battled and He had brought victory, I was in peace.  Those areas where I was still uneasy were areas where there were still battles to embrace.

He began to talk to me about the medical system here in Peru.  He told me I needed to write a list of all the health care professionals who I held something against.   

Now I have had two live births here in Peru, and one induced birth for miscarriage at 17 weeks, and I have had MANY encounters with health care professionals.  Most of them have been bearable, some have been surprisingly fine and at some I have suffered abuse that could have been taken to court in the UK. Humiliation and lack of consideration are reoccurring events. (*I would like to just write a quick sidenote to say that I have also had some gentle, tender, God-given care by some timely individuals too!)  

I had already started (and I thought, finished) the forgiveness process with those doctors who had been abusive.  However, I had never considered how my attitude towards medical staff here in general and my lack of trust had been leading me into many situations where I set myself up for a hard time.  I hadn’t realised how much the enemy had held me in fear because of that lack of trust whenever an occasion to visit a doctor arose, or when talking to others about medical care here.  

I then surprised myself by writing a list of 12 people (12! I would have guessed, maybe 3 at tops!) who, on recall, I could feel I still held something against.  I then realised how much I was not at peace with medical care in general here. 

The Lord, ever gracious, led me through a process of forgiving each person on my list and showed me that even the abusive ones, had not been intentionally so – their methods were questionable, but they were trying to get their job done as they deemed best. 

And then it dawned on me that many of the complaints in my life are due to unforgiveness. 

Whenever I complain, it shows I have not forgiven or extended grace to those who intentionally or unintentionally previously inconvenienced me. 

And I started to think about those things I complain about, or am tempted to complain about:  bad taxi drivers; ‘incompetent’ administrators; ‘slow’ shop attendants; a long wait in a restaurant; my children making a 'ridiculous' mess… – I am tempted to complain because of past experience and because I refused to extend grace to those people beforehand.  Ultimately, because of unforgiveness.

How can I leave my house hoping to love those in the world and reach out to them with God’s love if I go out in an attitude of distrust and complaint?

And what happens when I enter into the emotional ‘battle’ of forgiveness? I begin to live in peace.  God’s hand is upon me, and whatever situation I am in, I can trust He will fight for me.  My peace at the hospital won’t be dependent on the treatment of the staff, but rather on the Spirit living in me.  My peace in the taxi won’t be dependent on the driver, but on my Father’s protection.  My peace in my home won’t be dependent on my children’s behavior, but on His peace in my heart.

What are you tempted to complain about? Who do you need to forgive?

Love…keeps no record of wrongs

1 Corinthians 13: 5

In the trenches

Less than one hour to go and I was standing on a wall in our garden, toys overflowing from my hands, frustrated tears running down my cheeks in front of three men, feeling very silly.

I was feeling silly not because I was crying in front of three men, who probably felt more uncomfortable than I did at the tears, but because I KNEW that the reason I was feeling so overwhelmed was the enemy.  He was coming in and undermining me just before we began something new and was reminding me of all the stress in times past when our house was jammed full with children.  The enemy was reminding me of the cost, and not of the prize, of course, and in that moment I just wasn’t sure if I was ready for the garden to be run down, toys to be broken and lost, diffusing childishness, cleaning up mess…

That was 9.45am this morning before the first service of our new season started in our house.

Of course, as I knew even standing there having my mini-tantrum at 9am, everything went fine (in fact, it went amazingly well!).  But even as I took a moment after lunch to put a tired one year-old to bed 3 hours later than usual, I wondered if we would really have to do it all again next week.  Did we really have to have gatherings in our house, or in fact, anywhere, ever again? Was it really worth it?

But then I asked myself: What else would we do? What else are we here in Peru for, if not to reach out to others. And I know that if it wasn’t the hurdle of having lots of children running around it would be something else.  Nearly every time we advance in the kingdom there are emotional hurdles to jump first. 

The birthing pains of breakthrough.

And I felt like the disciples when Jesus asked them if they too wanted to turn back, and all I can answer is:  ‘Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life. I have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.’ And there is nowhere else to go but forward!

And chatting with a dear Peruvian friend this afternoon who is the trenches once again with her family situations, I am once again reminded that the Christian life was never meant to be comfortable – it is meant to be war.

And today, battle weary and in the trenches, one foot in front of the other, we are winning.

Choosing to Wrestle

I hate being misunderstood.  I hate suspecting something about someone and having to wait in order to talk to them to get the truth.  I hate being in that uncomfortable place where what I am faced with or my thoughts are unresolved. 

Saturday was our ‘day off’ – I put that in inverted commas because really it was not a day off and really we need to stop looking at it like that because when you have three children under 6, you are blessed to get an hour or two off – a day a week would be unthinkable!

We decided to go into the nicer part of Lima to see the flower show announcing the beginning of Spring here.  We looked around at the beautiful flowers and the boys got restless and we thought about where we could go for a treat.  Knowing there was a doughnut house just around the corner, we suggested the idea to the boys whose eyes lit up and their energy renewed all of a sudden.

We ordered 7 donuts for the 5 of us because it was cheaper than buying 4 separately (Kaleb being 1, doesn’t need a whole one yet!), and we began to eat.

A girl and her brother stood beside us with a cup, begging inside the café.  I immediately felt angry for the children that their mother had sent them to beg on her behalf and looked around for the mother.  About 30 seconds later she appeared and demanded that we give our spare two donuts to the children.  Reacting to her indignant rudeness, we told her ‘no’ and she gathered up her children, cursing us as she left.

Now, our reaction was something that I have had to wrestle with a lot.  Mainly because I know that if I had not been put on the spot, and if she had asked politely, I would have gladly given her the donuts – in fact, I would have been happy to buy them all their own – but in that moment, when I was caught off guard, on our ‘day off’ what came out was in fact a rotten testimony of Jesus.  In reaction to her rudeness and our judgment of her, we were unable to get past that and reach out in the opposite spirit. I mean, Jesus’ words say in Luke 6:28-30:

 bless those who curse you, pray for those who ill-treat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.  Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. 

At the time I had felt set up.  I felt like the lady had seen our white skin, seen our children and assumed we had loads of spare money.  Didn’t she know we are not rich tourists? Then I felt bad because I knew the Jesus thing to do would have been to give them the donuts, despite the way she treated us, and I looked for her everywhere but she had gone.

A situation I would never be able to resolve.  

How very uncomfortable.

It left me with a choice.  Either to bury my shame and try and justify ourselves, or to wrestle with the uncomfortableness and let that lead me to think differently -  to have true repentance. 

Before I would have just ignored my feelings – too ashamed. This time I choose to wrestle.  Even writing about what happened here is part of that wrestling.

But as I began to wrestle with my attitude and my knee-jerk reaction (because God says what comes out of our mouth shows what is in our hearts), I see areas of my life that need some 180 degree repentance. 

  

And that I need to be prepared so I am not caught off guard.  

Firstly, I need to see my ‘day off’ as still a day when God can use me to minister and reach out to others – not just a day to switch off.  I need to be proactive in asking Him if there is anything special that He has for us that day, or even invite Him to use us on that day.  

Secondly, we need to create ‘extra’ in our lives specifically to be able to reach out to others – not harvest the edges of our field, so to speak, - for example, make sure we cook an extra meal or two so any unexpected visitors are welcomed not resented; to bring more food when we go to the park so we can share it with the other children around; set aside money aside from our tithe each month specifically to respond to situations that arise.

So now, although I hate the feelings of uncomfortableness I am choosing to wrestle with them until I get a resolution.  Until I see God break through and give me a response.  And even if I end up limping, like Jacob, I will seek God.  

Do not be discouraged!

What do you struggle most with as a leader?

For me, one of the things I struggle with most leading with my husband our ministry here in Peru is discouragement. 

God speaks to us, we act, we encourage others, others are initially enthusiastic and then we get tired.  We are tempted to be led by how others are feeling instead of looking to God and remembering the vision He has given us.  It gets hard.  We get discouraged.

Recently, God has spoken to me through Deuteronomy 31.  Moses is about to hand his leadership onto Joshua, and he is to lead the unfaithful, emotion-led Israelites into the Promised Land. 

When the Israelites were faced with the promised land, God said more or less the same things to Israel and to Joshua through Moses, but with some important differences:

Compare these two passages and see the differences:

To the Israelites: ^‘The Lord will deliver them to you, and you must do to them all that I have commanded you.  Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.’

To Joshua: ‘Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into the land that the Lord swore to their ancestors to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.’

What the people needed to hear was different from what the leader needed to hear in a couple of important ways.  The crowd needed to hear that God was with them, that He would never leave them.  Joshua need to hear something different to empower him.  He need to hear God would go ahead of him as well as with him.  And He needed to be told not to be discouraged. 

I didn’t even realize discouragement was a key strategy of the enemy in my life until I started reflecting on it.  But Moses’ words to Joshua empower me.

I have a role in not being discouraged.  I don’t have to just accept it.  I can and am encouraged to face it head on.  When it rears its lying head, I can look to the Lord and ask Him to remind me of the vision.  I can ask Him to bring the breakthrough for the moment.  I can seek him for a word to move forward.  I don’t have to just accept it or even worse, agree with it. 

This post has been a couple of months in the writing.  I have had over a month in the last two months without free time to write with Mark being away, but honestly, I think in part I have also been discouraged.  I wonder if what I have to say is worth the time it takes to invest in writing a post.  I wonder if other things are more important.  Perhaps they are sometimes.  But I also know that God wants to use my writing, and so isn’t the enemy trying to discourage that just another subtle strategy of his?

Generally I find a post just flows and at the moment, it is not, and that makes me want to give up, but wisdom tells me that the biggest obstacles come just before a breakthrough! So even if this post comes out jagged and hindered, I am choosing to post it – knowing that sometimes just moving forward means one step closer to breakthrough!

I am choosing not to be discouraged because now I know that more often than not, it is the enemy trying to discourage me rather than God trying to slow me down.  His promptings to slow down always come in the form of encouragements to seek Him more, not just to give up!

So for those of you who are leaders today:

 

‘Be strong and courageous, for you must go with this people into the land that the Lord swore to their ancestors to give them, and you must divide it among them as their inheritance. The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.’

Tempted to give up

Sometimes I look at a bad situation and I start praying.  

And that is the right response.  

A broken bank balance, a defiant child, a crying heart once again failing to change herself.  Prayer is always the right response. 

But what sort of prayer?

A deep desperate helpless cry,

or

a submitted, authoritative, listening prayer?

What if I also allowed the situation to show me a larger perspective.  What if God had already responded and set His will forward and the opposite I see is just a temporary spiritual kick back? What if the intensity is a sign that breakthrough, not devastation is near?

All I know is that before we receive a financial gift that is going to change our hopeless bank balance, we regularly have a financial attack.  A broken water tank meaning jug showers out of pots and pans has become this week’s norm – too normal that we complain not, struggling forward not to cope with another thing wrong, but to carry a pan full without overflowing the brim. 

All I know is that before my child steps forward in leaps and bounds in character, I often spend days wondering if he will ever listen to me, if it is too late, if I had only stepped down harder, if he will forever write on the walls, already condemning him in my mind to be a graffiti artist, and he has not yet reached 6?

All I know is my own struggle with sin – this week striving to respect my husband in all I say, and realizing instead all the complaints that flow far too quickly off my tongue – do I have faith that the Holy Spirit will empower my words and I too will change?

And then I remember that the struggle points to heaven’s momentum to bring change – it is precisely because I am about to be empowered to speak and encourage my husband that I am struggling now to do so – if I am just willing to submit to God and accept my powerlessness to change me. 

And it is precisely because my prayer for depth of character and sincerity has been answered that my child is still sticking in his heels, until we sit, heads bowed on his bed, him asking the Holy Spirit to change him and give him self-control, and all of a sudden his impulse to label everything directly turns into everything being labeled by post-it notes instead.

And it is precisely because we know there is an enabling gift flying through the imaginary bank transfer lines from their bank to ours that I just smile and tell Satan to get behind me when the water tank fails – does he think a few financial attacks are going to stop us trusting that God will send enough to cover it and to pay for the things he has destined the money for?   

You see, I am reminded, that it is all about perspective.

And perspective shifts the way we pray.

Thank you for your provision for us daily, thank you for hot water, and stoves for heating water and for jugs, and thank you for the gifts you are sending to provide for all our needs.

Thank you for my child and his heart, already won by you, and that you are showing him how to humbly come to you for help.  Help him always to know he can’t but you can.  Help him to hear your voice louder than the devil’s temptations.

Thank you for your transforming enabling Spirit on my words.  Thank you that I am going to be known as an encourager and defender of my husband, not a loose tongued wife.  Thank you that you want to use me to show others how you enable us to be more like you in our marriage – oh that I would never think it was in my own strength, but recognize it is only through you that I am sanctified and enabled.

It is all about heaven’s perspective.  Where do you need to know it? You know He is waiting to tell you, don’t you? Just draw close and listen to that whisper. 

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 

 – 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18