Arms Filled with Treasure

You are not free until your arms are filled with treasures – until you got more out of the trial than the enemy took from you. – Beth Moore

The Old Testament is full of examples of God’s favor through trials. Leaders often went into battle against insurmountable odds, with no possibility of winning. But God always showed up and fought the battle for them, not only giving them victory, but allowing them to take spoils. According to God’s specific instructions, the people would gather the wealth and treasure of their defeated enemies and take them home. Some things were allowed to be kept, but others were set aside to be used for God’s glory.

Isn’t it the same with us? We often engage in battles we can’t win on our own, but God steps in, reigning victoriously over the situation. He has spoils for us, too. He allows us to walk away with renewed hope, joy, strength, and peace, and helps us take back our emotional well-being, physical health, relationships, families, and finances. But all of that is not just for personal consumption. While He wants us to keep some of the spoils, He wants us to give the rest back to Him, to be used for His glory, to build His temple, to show others what He can do.

What are you doing with the spoils from your battles? Are you a hoarder, keeping everything for yourself, hiding gold in your tent, or are you giving honor to God by giving back the portion He desires, the portion He wants to use to show others His power?

Freedom comes through shared spoils – on arms filled with treasures. Keep some, but don’t forget to give some away.

Empty = Full

I’ve fought it ever since that first day. I like to tell people it’s not really an issue any more, but that’s a lie. It’s a constant battle I’m engaged in, and it’s driving me to my knees. That part is good, I guess, because it’s from this humble position that our enemy is overcome, but I don’t feel like a winner. It seems as if my prayers bounce off the ceiling and land all around me, drowning me in their sea of unansweredness. I know He sees, I know He hears, and I know He cares, but He’s not saying anything. The silence is deafening.

It never occurred to me that I was fat.  I had just delivered three babies within 18 months of each other, so maybe I was too busy, or maybe I just didn’t want to look at myself, but until he pointed it out, it had never even crossed my mind. I’m not blaming him, but I often wonder if things would have been different had he not held out his hands, stretched wide as if carrying a large box, to inform me that he didn’t recognize me because I was, well, bigger than I used to be. Although his gestures and words were rude and socially unacceptable, in themselves they held no power. The work had already begun – I just didn’t know. In the grips of post-partum depression, I was held tight, squeezed of life, and barely able to breathe.

I didn’t know there was a name for what I had. I didn’t know other people suffered. I just knew something was really wrong and that I was powerless. The day his words came, slicing me open, releasing the deluge of pain, hurt, anger, sadness, loneliness, fear, and hunger – that was the day it started, the first time I heard Bulimia’s voice. He began with whispers and ideas, ones I thought were my own. Rational thoughts quickly changed to obsession, and within 3 months I was starving myself, taking 30 laxatives a day, throwing up, and vigorously exercising at least an hour a day, seven days a week.

I was so hungry – for love, for peace, for acceptance, for food – that I starved myself. If you’re thin they’ll love you, if you’re thin you’ll be happy, if you’re thin you’ll fit in. Empty will fill you up – that’s what Bulimia said.

 After fighting the battle for six years, I finally won. I’m healthy now – that’s what I keep telling myself, but I’m not really sure. I’m no longer addicted to laxatives and I don’t starve myself or throw up, but I’m still hungry. My large frame bulges, mocking me, telling me I’m too much. Now I’m filled up, but empty.

Empty = Full. Full = Empty. That’s Bulimia’s math, his equation of lies.

Sometimes lies make sense. Laced with just enough truth to make us consider, they are the bait of Satan himself. Don’t fall for them, don’t drown in unanswered prayers. Put fact over feeling, and even if He isn’t speaking right now, it doesn’t mean He’s not there. Sometimes He doesn’t speak while He’s carrying us – He’s concentrating on lifting us out, using His energy to move us to the next place rather than spending it on words we may not listen to.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. (Isaiah 41:10, 13 NIV).

Give God what is His

Mark 12:17 (NKJV, MSG) And Jesus answered and said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  

Jesus said, “Give Caesar what is his, and give God what is his.”

I’ve heard this sermon one too many times, so I don’t really need to pay attention. Pay your taxes, do your civic duty, be respectful of the powers that be regardless of your feelings toward them, follow the law. Give God what belongs to Him – time, talent, treasure – read and pray, give your tithe and offering, use your gifts and abilities for His service. Yeah, I got it. I already do all of those things. Is that all you’ve got for me today?

And then come the words, the ones that bleed straight from His life-saving wounds into my heart: What do YOU have that needs to be given back to Him? You bear His name, and He has given you His value. You are of great worth. I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t feel like a treasure stamped with His likeness and assigned His value. But it doesn’t matter how I feel, what matters is His fact. He says for me to give Him what is His. Yes, He gives me time, talent, and treasure and of those things I give freely. But He wants me to go beyond that. He wants me to give me.

I used to think I was giving Him me when I gave all of those other things, but it is possible to give time, talent, and treasure without giving yourself.  It is possible to do those things without heart and meaning. I know because I’ve done it for a long time.

What He wants is you. Do you give Him your time, talents, and treasures? I’m sure you probably do. What’s your motive? Do you give them so you won’t feel guilty, to prove you are the good girl you say you are, to set an example for your children, and to give yourself some leverage so when things aren’t going well you can remind God of all you’ve done for Him, or do you give them because your heart is after His, because you know your life is bought with a price and you are valuable to Him, because you are His treasure and He wants to delight in you?

He wants every part of you. Not just the deeds, not just the Sunday dress, not just the mask-wearing, see-I-really-am-a -good-person-you, but all of you. Good and bad, clean and dirty, happy and sad, refreshed and tired – all of you has value, every part stamped with His likeness. He bought you because He loves you and He sees your true worth.

Grace

With eyes cloudy as gray sky under the weight of heavy drops and bones chilled by the crisp air of stares, she walks alone searching for Light, purpose. No one knows her secret. She packages it carefully in shiny papers tied with happy bows and floating ribbon. She presents her forged gift to the world, metallic shell causing craved Light to be reflected onto others rather than absorbed. Once tidy, glittery, new, the trimmings now fade and fray at the edges, hinting of the box underneath, affording access to the pain inside.  

You’ll see her today – in the grocery store, at the gas station, in the parent pick-up line, in the mirror – so remember to be kind. All she needs is a little grace.

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:40 NIV)

The Faith of Jonny Bug-Eye

My son wrote the following short story for a homework assignment last night:

There is a man named Jonny Bug Eye. He is 20 years old, he is funny beyond all reason, and he is good at cooking. He goes to I Wanna Hock A Loogie University. Jonny really wants to be a famous cook. Jonny cannot afford to go to culinary art class. So, Jonny thought of ways to raise money so he can go. First he tried a lemonade stand, but that did not work out so well. Then he tried a car wash and that did not work out so well. Lastly, he thought of a brilliant plan. He was going to start a bake sale since he cooked very well. So he made some no-bake cookies, and when he started selling them they were selling like hot cakes. Finally, he raised enough money to go to culinary art class. THE END

I can learn a lot from Jonny. Too many times I’ve felt stuck. Wanting to pursue my dream, yet investing in other areas, I’ve never fully taken the leap, putting heart and mind in the same place. I think about what I want, hope and pray it will come to pass, but never fully commit to it because I’m so scared if I pursue it and it doesn’t happen, there will be nothing left to fall back on. Where’s the faith in that?

Jonny was active in the pursuit of his dream. He wasn’t afraid of possibility; he embraced it. He knew what he wanted and took risks. Jonny didn’t make excuses. He tried, and yes, he failed. But failure didn’t stop him. Instead, he used past mistakes to help devise the perfect plan – the plan that would bring success.

I want to be like Jonny Bug-Eye. Young, funny beyond all reason, eyes bulging and empty pockets flapping, I want to jump of the cliff of reason, the precipice of you-can’t do-that, and soar on wings of purpose. Faith isn’t always practical, faith is risky, faith is blind belief, and faith requires action. Standing on the peak, full of faith, believing He will carry me, I must leap.

In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith; I have deeds.” Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds. You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that- and shudder. You foolish person, do you want evidence that faith without deeds is useless? Was not our father Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did…You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone. (James 2:17- 22, 24 NIV).

Fog

Sleep still creasing the side of my face in pillow lines and matted hair, I swat the alarm and roll out of bed. Another day, another dollar – this, my former impetus for resurrection, is no longer rousing. Fired, humiliated, hurt, and depressed, there’s no reason for me to get up. But my children need me, and so I propel myself forward, winding the invisible mechanism on my back. No personal motivation exists.  I arise only for others.

With the exception of a few purposeful weeks sprinkled throughout, this has been my life for the past 10 months. I know these feelings, this darkness all too well. It once ruled my world. While less intrusive and easier to recognize than in times past, it still seeks to control my existence. I’ve battled it for a long time. At first, the fog never lifted. Constantly shrouded by its heavy cloak, vision obscured by its opaque glasses, I traveled in shadows never able to discern light.

With the passing of time and a greater understanding of its workings and effects, I have learned to trudge on, push forward. Absorbing its moisture, lifting its dense smog, the Light comes in more often now, dancing on wet, creating rainbows of hope. I know I will fight the fog forever. It never really leaves. Ever lurking, ever seeking, its hazy talons pierce flesh, cut spirit. Shallow wounds bleed less but hurt more, and I wonder why this is my lot.

I used to think it was my fault – that I had somehow unknowingly given it an invitation. I thought I was sinful. Who could be His child and not feel His hope and redemption, be confident in His love and grace? Satan uses the fog against me, blaming, taunting, choking, and reminding me of the legalism I was raised in. He wants me to think it’s my fault, and for a long time I believed him.

I don’t like talking about the fog. I don’t like admitting the hold it has on my life, but I feel compelled to share it today. I know I am not alone. I know other Christians fight depression in secret. Feeling morally weak and responsible for the invading darkness, I have been afraid to talk for fear of judgment or condemnation. But I am reminded today of His words: Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1NIV).

God knows, He sees, and He cares, and I am fully convinced, despite how I feel, that He will help me through once again. He will help you, too. His understanding goes beyond anything we can imagine, and He will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint (Jer. 31:25 NIV).

Cows and Bees

The Promised Land flowed with milk and honey. What does that mean to us? Sure, this description means God’s promise for his children includes abundant sustenance and satisfaction, but have you ever thought about what it takes to get milk and honey? It takes cows and bees. Cows produce milk, but they also produce a lot of stuff. Bees make honey, but they also sting. In order to get the milk and honey, we have to work with the cows and bees. We may have to walk through stuff and we may get stung, but that doesn’t mean we are in the wrong place.

So many times we think we couldn’t possibly be in our land of promise because we are facing hardship or difficulty. Busy looking for abundance and complaining because we can’t find it, we have forgotten that promises require work. Getting milk requires putting your hands on a big, stinking, poo-filled cow. Getting honey requires charming a swarm of bees. You will encounter stink and sting in your promised land.

These are the facts: cows make piles of steamy brown, and bees wound those who take their golden sweetness. Cows give milk to those willing to get it, and bees can be controlled with smoke. You have to decide if your promise is worth the poop and stings you will have to endure to get it.

Milk and honey will flow. You will get stung. You will be surrounded by stench. Is it worth it? Keep going, keep pursuing, and keep dreaming. You are in the land He prepared for you. You will see the promise if you’re willing to work for it.

What If I Took the Time?

My daughter’s had an awful time with her allergies over the past couple of weeks and has developed a sinus infection. I picked her up from school early for a doctor’s appointment yesterday, and when she got in the car, she told me one of the most precious stories I’ve ever heard. “I felt so bad today, Mama, and I was having a hard time. Sissy noticed I wasn’t feeling good, and during recess she came and got me and led me to a quiet place on the playground where no one else was. She took my hand and prayed for me right there.”

Humbled and in awe of my daughter’s compassion and desire to do something to help her sister, I realized I need to be more like her. How often do I pay enough attention to those around me to notice their countenances, their problems? How often do I give extra encouragement to someone in need? When was the last time I was so touched by someone’s situation that I went out of my way to let them know I was concerned and praying for them?

Sure I pray for others in my daily quiet time, and I do try to help when I can, but how long has it been since I have made real effort? How often do I stop my life, my routine and make an intentional attempt to let someone else know I care? What would happen if I stretched outside myself and gave, making a phone call, sending an email, paying a visit? What if I took the time to make sure someone knew I was thinking of them, praying for them, and cheering for them?

Sometimes the simplest actions mean the most. I wonder what would happen if we took the time.

On Saying It Out Loud

“So what are you doing with yourself these days?” she says, and I smile, nervously formulating a response. All the words I’ve blogged over the past couple of weeks about facing fear and living loud churn in my brain, and I know it’s my turn to put up or shut up. “I’m a stay-at-home mom now,” I say, really wanting to stop there, but something within urges me to divulge more. “I’m also blogging, and I’m working on my first book.”

I turned bright red as the words rolled off my tongue. Wishing there was some way I could scoop them up and shove them back deep into my heart, I looked down, knowing I could never get them back. I had released them into the cosmos. The whole universe now knows my secret. Way to go, Deidra, you’re such a fool – those are the first words I hear. She thinks you’re an idiot. You’re a writer – seriously? I didn’t think you were that stupid, but I guess you really are. Now everyone will know when you fail.

My admission was met with silence and a gratuitous, I-feel-sorry-for- you kind of smile, and after we parted ways the haranguing continued: You are so embarrassing. Why do you do this to yourself? You aren’t a writer and you never will be. You don’t have a snowball’s chance, and even if you did, no one cares about your lame little story. You can’t help anyone. Look at you – you’re not good enough. The voice continued for a long time, and actually, it still hasn’t shut up. As tempted as I am to believe it, I refuse to.

What is it about saying something out loud that gives it more power, makes it more real? I’ve carried this tucked-away dream around for a long time, but I’ve never wrestled with it like this before. I’ve talked about it with my husband and a few close friends, but otherwise it’s been in a safe place, buried as if it was never meant to have life. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe Satan’s wanted me to keep it entombed because he knows the moment I’m no longer afraid of my dream he will have lost his power.

I may be working against impossible odds. I may really suck and have no chance at being published. I might be wasting my time. But what if I’m not? What if this really is my purpose and what if God makes a way where there doesn’t seem to be one? I won’t know unless I try. Satan doesn’t waste his time on people he doesn’t view as a threat, so maybe he knows something I don’t.

So, I’m going to keep saying it out loud. I’m going to write and I’m going to pursue my dream of publication. Am I afraid? Yes. Are there days I feel like it is impossible? Yes. Do I feel like the dumbest person on the planet at times? Yes. But, crazier things have happened, and I’m pretty sure God can handle all the details.

Don’t be afraid to say your it out loud. Know the power of the spoken word. God spoke worlds into existence, and Jesus spoke life into the dead. We can speak to mountains and they will be moved (Mark 11: 23), and what we ask for when we speak to God will be done if we believe and don’t doubt (Mark 11: 24). The power of life and death is in the tongue (Prov. 18:21); don’t murder your own dream, speak life into it.

Not So Quiet Desperation

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them. - Henry David Thoreau

Lately I've grown quite discontent with some parts of my life. I feel a deep longing to do more, be more. I want to impact my world; I want to make a difference in the lives of others. I don't want to be like the people Mr. Thoreau describes, trudging through life knowing there's more, desiring more, yet doing nothing to attain it, carrying the song deep within them, yearning to release, to become and grow, but muting their own voices, stifling their potential by quietly dreaming, fearfully hoping.

I've lived that way for a long time and it's gotten me nowhere. I'm ready to shout a song, my God-inspired anthem to all who will listen. I am living a life of loud desperation. I want more than anything to step into my purpose, to put a voice to my desire, to step out and be, to unashamedly live those dreams held quiet, laying dormant in my heart for so long.

Faith requires action and action requires faith. As long as I sit doing nothing, nothing will ever change. But when I step up, take a chance, start to sing, He meets me there. He rewards my action. He empowers me for greater. He gives me courage to run after my aspirations.

God has placed a song in all of us. Are you going to carry yours to the grave because you were afraid to sing, step up and put your voice to the words He has spoken, the dreams He has inspired, or will you dare to live loud?

Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised. - Hebrews 10:35-36

Birthday Reflections

Each year on my birthday, I like to take some time to reflect on the previous year. Today I turn 37, and as I think about my 36^th year, I am amazed once again at God’s goodness. Three incredible things happened when I was 36:  I got fired from my job, I began writing, and I started becoming.  Getting fired was one of the worst experiences of my life, but God used it to show me His provision and grace.  I never thought we’d be able to survive on one income, but He has provided for my family. I never knew my life could feel meaningful without a career. I’ve always been so wrapped up in work, constantly trying to prove I’m smart, I’m trustworthy, and I’ve got what it takes to be a leader. I’ve always been that way, hoping someone would notice me, think I mattered, think I was worth their attention. God has shown me though, that my worth isn’t dependent on a job or what others think of me. It’s dependent on Him.

I became a writer. Well, I don’t know if I actually became one or if I was one all along and just discovered it.  I do know however, that had I not been fired I never would have started writing. Being home with God, my thoughts and prayers, and the encouragement of a wonderful friend brought me to a place of realization.  I have a story to tell and God wants me to share it. My experiences with bulimia, clinical depression, bankruptcy, job loss, and miscarriage were not in vain.  God uses everything and He has set aside this time for me to write my story so that others can know there is help and healing through Him.

Finally, I’ve started becoming – the person I was meant to be, the person I’ve always wanted to be, the person God chose me to be. He has given me the strength and grace to try new things, and even though I’m scared to death, He is showing me that through Him, I really can do all things.

I don’t know what my 37^th year will hold, but I know it will be good. How do I know? Because wherever it takes me, He will be right there.

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me; your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained before me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand – when I awake, I am still with you.   Psalm 139:1-18 (NIV)

Broken

What’s meant to be an encouraging reminder slaps me on the face.  You’re not broken beyond repair, the pastor says, and I wonder if it’s really true.  I know He can fix me, but sometimes I wonder why it takes so long.  I’ve been in repair for a long time.  There are things I have struggled with for at least ten years, and they pop up out of nowhere to make me doubt.  Maybe you’re not really doing things right.  Okay, so you’re saved, but if you’re such a great Christian, why would you still fight the same things? I don’t have an answer for the mocking question. Perhaps there’s some truth in it. Why would it take so long for me to be put back together, the shards of past hurts still strewn around my feet?

And then it hits me, it doesn’t matter how long it takes; the point is I am in process. Isn’t that what counts? Isn’t time different with God – like a thousand years is as a day? Well, I guess He’s only been working on me for minutes then, so it makes sense He wouldn’t be finished. On the other hand, He doesn’t really have to work, all He has to do is speak and it is so.  So why hasn’t He spoken over these things, transforming them with just one word? But then I’m reminded of Jesus and the blind man.  Jesus got dirty.  He made mud from dirt and spit and wiped it on his eyes.  He didn’t have to do that – He could have just told the man’s eyes to work and they would have. Jesus chose to get messy.

That’s what He does with us.  He comes right down into the middle of our brokenness and gets dirty, putting His hands on clay pieces, adding water, spinning wheel, shaping fragments into something new. I have to remember I’m not going to end up the way I was before.  He uses chunks of the old me, but I can’t expect to be what I once was. It may take a while, but He’s making something new.  He’s recycling me, giving new purpose and value to what was once thrown away.

Call Me Gideon

Midian and Amalek were causing a lot of problems for the Israelites, but God was allowing them to dominate because yet again, His people had fallen back into their habits of griping, complaining, and not doing what God told them to. But because God is merciful and He loves them, as always, He’s planned a way for them to escape.  Enter Gideon. He’s a nice man with no really big skeletons in his closet; he just has a hard time believing. God visits to tell him he has been chosen to lead Israel to victory.  Gideon immediately starts making excuses, telling God He’s got the wrong guy.  He informs Him that he doesn’t have the right last name, the right address, or the right amount of money in his bank account. On top of that, he’s a runt, so who would listen to him?  But God tells Gideon he will defeat Midian by himself.

Halfway convinced of God’s calling, he asks for signs.  First he wants proof of God Himself, and then he wants proof he is the one for the job. So God humors Gideon, proving He is indeed God. At this, Gideon freaks out and thinks he is going to die for having seen the Lord, but God convinces him he will live. Now Gideon knows he has talked with God, but doesn’t believe what He told him. In an effort to obtain more proof he lays out a fleece and asks God to let it be wet and everything else dry.  If You do it, then I’ll believe.  And of course God does it and of course, Gideon doesn’t believe.  Just one more time, then I’ll believe. He lays out the fleece again and asks God to make it dry and everything else wet.  If You do it, I promise I’ll believe.  God does it, and Gideon believes.

After three separate miracles, Gideon finally decides he is really talking to God and perhaps he should listen. The rest of the story:  everything happened just as God said and Gideon single-handedly brought the Israelites to victory.

I got aggravated with Gideon while reading this story.  I kept thinking how much of an idiot he was for not believing the Lord God Almighty, even after talking to Him face to face, even after multiple miracles.  Then I made the mistake of having quiet time. You’re a lot like him, you know. How many times have I proven Myself to you, yet you still don’t believe? You’ve made the same excuses he did, claiming you’re not right for the job when I’ve not only called you, but equipped you to do it.  How long are you going to sit on your hands wondering if you should act when I’ve already told you time and time again to do it?

After weeks of grappling with doubt and uncertainty, I’m faced with the ugly truth.  I’m like Gideon – the doubter Gideon, not the victorious Gideon. I need to listen.  I need to believe Him, not because of signs He’s given, but because of Who He is – the One who never lies, the One who is faithful to complete good works He’s started, the One who is a Way-maker, the One who wins battles for people without them even having to fight. It doesn’t matter how greatly I’m out-numbered or how high the odds are stacked against me.  If I believe and do what He says, He’ll give me victory.

Be encouraged today.  If God’s given you a job, He’ll equip you to do it. Don’t listen to naysayers or wallow in self-doubt or disbelief.  He’s on your side, He’s fighting for you, and you will win.

(Judges 6 & 7)