The Good Portion

{From my journal}

June 24, 2015

Everyday, I am sowing something, regardless of whether or not I am aware of it. By His grace, I want to start each day with Him, seek His wisdom and leading – wisdom that is "pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere" – so I can make the choices that lead to a "harvest of righteousness" which is "sown in peace by those who make peace."

Lord, I need so much help with this. Everyday, I choose to worship at the altar of self, often becoming frustrated when things don't go my way or they are harder than I'd hoped they would be. In my own strength, I can't find wisdom or peace, nor can I bear the kind of fruits that actually last. Pour out your mercy on me:  a woman, wondering how to do this thing called life as a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and friend. But most of all, as a sinner … saved by grace, without a doubt, but so easily enticed to choose the easier roads, not pushing to do the hard things that can lead to long-lasting rewards.

I am so weak and weary. Help me to seek and rely on Your strength and love and see my life transformed. Though I can sometimes be like Martha, "anxious and troubled about many things," help me to focus on the "one thing" that is necessary. Help me to choose "the good portion."

Amen and amen.

Even When My Eyes Can't See

Hope.

Brokenness. 

Have you ever faced a mountain so big that you cannot see over or around it? Has it seemed so permanent that you start to believe it will always, always be there and, rather than continually bringing it before God, you start to believe (though you may never say it aloud) that He doesn't care about that particular mountain?

Sometimes the world steals our hope and pride or fear steal our ability to be broken before God, and we simply give up. We find it easier to stop thinking about the insurmountable and focus on what we can do and what we can change. We pour our hearts into another project, another soul, all the while knowing that God is waiting, waiting for us to resume the trek He has set before us. "Let me climb that hill!" we cry out desperately. "These people need my attention!" we mutter in self-justification. We can't understand why God would have us take up the climb one more time, when we have no surety that we will ever reach the top.

This weekend, I had the opportunity to visit my grandma's church, down south.

The pastor talked about John 13, when Jesus washes the feet of His disciples – nothing I hadn't heard before. But as my heart was being crushed by this mountain, I was so ready for His Word to speak life to me. Jesus was doing something that confounded everyone. He took on the mantle of a servant and willingly did one of the dirtiest and lowliest jobs: washing the dirt and grime of traveling on dusty roads and through animal droppings off of the crusty feet of these working-class men (no male pedicures, here). And Peter – our beloved Peter with whom we can all identify – just could not comprehend why Jesus would do this, nor how he could allow his revered teacher to see and touch and smell the filth collected on his feet. And when Jesus explained that if he didn't allow Him to wash his feet, then he could have no part in Him, Peter cried, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!"

As we sat in a chilly, air-conditioned room on a hot and muggy Sunday morning, we were reminded that Jesus was able to see past the sin of those closest to them to serve them physically and minister to their souls. That morning, what Jesus said to Peter struck me in a way it never had before:

"What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand."

Sometimes, we just cannot understand why God seems to be so slow to answer. So we stop asking. We cannot understand how things will ever improve when they just seem to be getting worse. So we stop hoping. We begin to forget that, in all things, God is for us. So we stop running to God, asking Him to break our hearts once more.

For me, this mountain is the family I grew up in. And while I would never share all the details, it is enough to know that there are many broken and strained relationships and many, many hurts that happened even before I was born that are still bearing fruit today. While we spent several days away from home and with different family members, I came face-to-face with some of those and felt the weight of a broken, mostly unbelieving family press down on me again.

But one glorious event shone through, like suddenly stumbling upon a mountain pass.

I got to meet my little brother.

A brother I hadn't seen since he was six months old and I was five.

And I never, ever thought this would happen. At some point, it just seemed like too much time had passed for reconciliation to occur. And while everything was not perfect or golden, nor would I expect it to be, I saw God answering my prayers and the petitions of others. He gave me an overwhelming sense of peace and a deep-seated knowledge that He is still there, working in the midst of what so often seems like an impossible situation. And though I may not understand now, someday I will stand with Him on the brink of eternity, He will show me what He was doing, and I will understand.

Far be it from me to not believe

Even when my eyes can't see

And this mountain that's in front of me

Will be thrown into the midst of the sea

Through it all, through it all

My eyes are on You

It is well

Through it all, through it all