The last few weeks have been a jumble of sorting, selling, giving away and letting go. The number of unnecessary possessions that we have obtained and the amount of time it has taken to sort though them has worn me down. In many ways, the process has been both annoyingly frustrating and therapeutically freeing. My heart does not want to own so much, it weighs on you in unseen areas and seems to suck energy out of you just by being there. The challenge for me however, is not in releasing the unwanted items, but in facing the things that I do want, that I do enjoy. There is a pull, a silent whisper of security that beckons from the lifeless stuff around me. Perhaps “possessions” is the most accurate term that could possibly describe our things. The irony is that we can fail to see who owns and who is possessing. This can be almost impossible to judge until the moment in which you are faced with giving it up. Continue reading “possessions”
All glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Ephesians 3:20
God’s best for us is often better than we can ask for. I’ve been thinking about this truth and how it can apply in my life and also in the lives of those I read about in the Bible. First to mind was Adam and his paradise home located on brand-spankin’-new planet earth. I’ve pondered the lush fauna and flora (I just learned the difference between the two this past year–thank you homeschooling), and I’ve decided that if we can enjoy breathtaking landscapes like the Grand Canyon on this post-sin earth, my mind can’t even conceive hypothetical sin-free beauty.
It would seem that Adam was pretty set with physical perfection and intimate closeness with God. Yet God (not Adam), recognized and expressed the deep need Adam had for a helper (Genesis 2:20-21). God, the first inventor, created and presented the exact thing that Adam needed but couldn’t produce or even imagine on his own. God knew Adam so well that he was anticipating needs and initiating provision before they were requested. Isn’t that beautiful?
Sometimes I struggle to comprehend that the same provider God of the Old Testament is still present in 2014. Sometimes I have higher expectations for my Old Testament God than I do for my personal Savior God. It sounds strange, even perhaps a tad sacrilegious to admit it, but it’s true. My God is not nearly big enough. Although I know theoretically that He can do anything, I am consistently putting limits on what I think He will do. It can be downright embarrassing at times. Like when He answers prayers I forgot to pray, or provides for things I never got around to asking for, or moves in ways I would not have even fathomed to envision. In times like this, I am caught with my mouth slightly open and a dazed look on my face thinking, “Wait a minute, how did you. . . why I never even. . . hey, you moved without me. . . wow, that was awesome.” Continue reading “bigger God needed”
If your heart is in a place where you can trust God enough to be open to doing anything or going anywhere, following Jesus is a compelling adventure. In the gospels I read about His invitation to follow Him (Matthew 4:19) and I see the response: His disciples dropped everything they were doing and followed. After a process of time, prayer, and soul-searching, Trent and I were in that place: we were ready to sell anything and follow anywhere. We were prayerfully sensitive to the opportunities that came across our paths and sought to determine, “Is this opportunity God’s will for us or is this simply a distraction?” We waded through a sea of possibilities for almost a year. We prayed through business opportunities, selling our home, buying a duplex, moving back to California, and moving overseas. In the process, we discovered more about our passions, dreams and goals and we continued to bring these to the feet of Jesus and ask, “Show us what to do with these things in our hearts.” Some of the particular areas we processed included: Continue reading “anti-lukewarm”
Sunday July 21, 2013:
A nervous unsettling is enveloping me. Reminiscent of the background music that slowly builds matching the approaching crescendo of tension in a thriller movie, I’m on the edge of my seat tapping my toe to non-existent music.
The events of the past month have all borne the consistent theme: let go, reduce, release. My online business of ten years: sold. Our black SUV with dark tinted windows that once made a man nervously approach me at the library and question if I was a government official and if I was perhaps following him: sold. Our extra truck that has been listed on Craig’s List forever: sold. Our trailer for hauling firewood out of the forest: sold. As we wait for someone to come look at our camping trailer (someone who heard from a friend that we might be looking to sell it) I am wondering if I should expect anything but the same to end this day. Moreover, as we empty things out of our life, I am left wondering what great adventure is hiding out behind the veil of God’s grand plan.