a story about life points and why it helps that Jesus wouldn’t have many.

I got into a conversation last week about life points.

We were at a conference for ministry leaders – an incredibly encouraging environment, but one that can often foster insecurity.  I heard many passing comments comparing one’s ministry to that of the host congregation.  It’s hard to not think grass is greener or covet someone else’s calling.

That’s not where I found this infrequent, but unkind streak of insecurity bubble up.  I feel unequivocally called to where I am serving.  It’s unique with little opportunity for comparison.  It’s challenging and not where I would like to see it be in the long term, but I’m good with it making steady progress.  God is at work and I’m truly grateful he’s invited me along in what he’s doing at the university.  But there was something else – an unexpected undercurrent that swept out my feet.

The conversation was silly.  A few of us were standing in awe of my friend, Dave, who has a house, a car, and a limo he has for fun.  We joked about how he had racked up some major “life points” with these big ticket items reflecting what it means to be accomplished in the USA.  A few other friends there are in their last year of seminary.  They shared dreams of having a house and steady income with benefits.  I pointed out that their marriages and children carried high value in life points.

And before I could put it in check or even realize it, there it was.  My insecurity on display.

I am not a homeowner, nor do I have a husband.  I am not a mom, nor a master’s degree recipient.  Where many of my friends have already had two children, I have already had two different ministry Calls.  As a girl in her late 20’s, my life points felt so far off par.  Dave offered encouragement.  Places I’ve been and connections made most certainly hold some point value, he suggested.

As much as I know my life is richly blessed, in that moment, it didn’t seem like enough to balance the scale.  For exception of my career, my deficit in “what really matters” seemed so insurmountable.  I wondered if one could ever file for life point bankruptcy and get a pass to start over.  Or perhaps there was a club I could join with others below the curve of life points in the event that my high scoring friends got wise and drew a cut off line.  Insecurity is ugly and unholy--making it difficult to love ourselves and others--and I was wearing it like my favorite sweater.

God’s perfect timing lined up the next conference speaker. He shared his story of a near death experience and how it caused him to ask, “would I be satisfied if this would’ve been it?”  He spoke on value, worth, and perspective.  He challenged us to be part of big, awesome, creative schemes for the Kingdom that bring us joy, but reminding us that we only ever have value because our names are written on the hands of the crucified and risen Christ.  I was taken back as that very verse from Isaiah 49 had made its way onto my dresser mirror months ago.  I’m grateful for God’s powerful reply of truth to my overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

As I drove home that day, I began to think about Jesus.  That’s always a good thing, right?

He wasn’t a home owner.  He didn’t have a spouse or kids or a booming business or the highest accolades.  If Jesus were measured by our American Dream life point standards, he would earn a failing grade.  And that deeply comforted me.  Not that any of the big ticket life point items are bad at all—most are incredibly good and worthy of pursuit.  But Jesus came with one Kingdom job to do.  The value of his life was marked by obedience and love.  He invites us to have our life reflect the same.  In Matthew 22, when asked about the greatest commandment, Jesus responded, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart with all your soul and with all your mind.  And the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself.”  In John 14, he explained, “If you love me, you will keep my commands.”  Whether or not God’s plans for my story include a mortgage or a wedding or another diploma, they include opportunities for obedience and love.

I chided myself for my fixation on life points.  After all, even if I did reach a point goal, that amount would no longer suffice.  Insecurity is a prison made of doubt in our identity as God's children.  It's a prison that keeps us from celebrating others' points, keeps us from freedom and peace, keeps us chained to the approval of others, keeps us from walking confidently in our calling.  I decided instead of judging myself and others based on a ring on the left hand and a set of keys to a door that’s theirs, I needed to start celebrating a new scale.

Nobody could ever earn enough points to be more than filthy rags in God’s sight when it comes to achieving our own way to righteousness.  Sin accompanies every point gained.  However, I think about what holds value in the economy of God’s Kingdom of love and obedience—the moments where the Kingdom comes among us and heaven rejoices.

Thinking of someone else over myself would get some celebration.  Asking someone about their story and choosing to listen with care before launching into my own would get a few points.  A high five for being kind to someone who is rude and without tact.  A fist bump for being humble and asking for help.  A smile for dinner invites that feed bodies and souls.  Applause for not spending money on that unnecessary something I can’t seem to leave behind.  An “atta kid” for not just slopping through things last minute and at minimum, but giving my best to honor God and serve others in my work.  Hands in the air for choosing not to share a word of unhelpful criticism, complaint, or gossip.  Joy for speaking honesty and truthfulness, deep love and encouragement.  Celebration for making thoughts captive to Christ.  Cheers from heaven for releasing a grudge and letting go of anger.  A happy dance for beautifully bold and loving proclamation of the Gospel to one who’s yet to call Jesus “Savior.” 

I think of the sweet moments of redemption throughout Jesus’ life.  The moments of seeing, acknowledging, touching, and healing the lowly – women, Gentiles, prostitutes, tax collectors.  Great acts of love that heaven rejoiced in.  And the moments of obedience – overcoming temptation, fulfilling prophecy, submitting to the will of the Father in the garden.  Seemingly insignificant happenings – love and obedience – become the most important.  This is exactly how God works.

Each day I am challenged to cast life points aside and cheer on others in the great race of faith and life.  Because by simply being in the race, the runner holds of immeasurable value.  I am challenged to praise God where I see the victory of Jesus overcome in the ordinary of life.  It’s not that I don’t strive for the life points, but I'm learning the importance of looking at life through the eyes of Kingdom economy and celebrating the victories won.  I see Jesus bringing about restoration in me and others, one small moment at a time.  And by that truth, I am overwhelmed by the love and affection of Christ – that he would choose me and give me worth because he said it was so.  Never a number, but my name is written on his scarred hands.  Everything else, even the most incredible, pales in comparison.

conversation transformation: changing my attitude of prayer.

Well, in the last few weeks, much to my dismay, I haven’t done much writing.  I have, however, done more than my normal amount of praying.  Not because I’m awesome and have mastered having a rockin’ meditative prayer life, but out of necessity.  Scripture says “be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”  I’m done being anxious.  That means there’s been a lot of “presenting” going on with me lately.  There are things that I want to be in place right now that aren’t.  When I look at my life, I get frustrated sometimes because of the gap between where I am and where I desire to be—whether that’s in eating healthy, exercise, friendships, relationships, work or my relationship in the Lord.  It’s difficult to cease striving (the meaning of the “be still” in Psalm 46) and rest in who God has already made me to be.  It’s tough for me to embrace where I’m at, trusting in God’s goodness in the present, and just soak up the journey.  This is the downside of being a goal person—it’s difficult to simply enjoy the place where you are.

So I’ve taken to telling God about these gaps in my life.  Great, right?  Well…kinda.  I found myself reminding God about my situations.  I’d remind Him about how He hasn’t given me “this” yet or shown me “that” yet.  Ya know, God, I have been waiting for a long time for your best for me.  I’ve been here a few weeks now and you haven’t brought many new friends yet. I wholeheartedly believe in praying with expectation, but this was twisted.  I found myself praying with my expectations instead of praying with the expectation of God to show up and fulfill His promises.  There’s a huge difference.  I realized this recently and just froze; appalled at my actions.

God, I’m sorry that I’m assuming You need a reminder of my situations.  I’m sorry I’m treating You like You’ve forgotten me.  I’m sorry I’m acting like You’re not already working behind the scenes in my story.  I’m sorry for asking for more when You have blessed me with SO MUCH.  And even so, I can’t help myself in wanting more.  I’m treating You like You work for me instead of vice versa.  I’m telling You about how big my struggles and stresses are instead of boldly claiming the promises You’ve made to address them.  I am so sorry.

It’s a heart struggle.  I’m trying to achieve and have what I want to have instead of letting God be Lord of my life.  The thing is, God is in control of all things and all people.  He knows our hurts, our struggles, our joys, our dreams, the things we long for and the things we fear the most.  He knows all of that.  Not only does He know about it, He is working on it.  We need to address Him as so.

I haven’t stopped telling God about all of those things in my story.  We’re still talking them over.   But the way I address Him and my attitude about it all is so different.  Instead of nagging God, I’m thanking Him for already working on those things.  Instead of reminding Him about my worries, I’m claiming the promises He’s already given me.  Instead of pouting that I haven’t seen Him work, telling Him about my excitement of what He’s going to do next because He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.  Instead of insisting on my will, surrendering to His and knowing that it’s going to be better anyway.  I'm learning to trust You, Jesus.  With the big things and the little things, may You be glorified.

There’s been a transformation in our conversations.  Well, at least on my end.  The I AM is still transforming me.

as the seasons change.

The sun is warm and bright.  The degrees are in the 70's and the snow is gone.  Gradually you see the people of the north land peeking out the window to see if the dreaded winter monster has left.  It's a fickle monster, but at least for awhile it's away.  It might come to scare us again before the summer, but for now it looks like the seasons are changing.  The Cities come to life.  Patios open.  The warmth brings exhilaration and relief.  I must admit it takes me a good while to not feel naked without a scarf, but I embrace the change.  The warm breeze brings hints of new adventure to come as the seasons change.

I've mentioned seasons before (see "seasons: alone leads to together") on this blog.  They are an important pattern in life.  It's God's way of letting us know that He is still moving and moving forward.  It's awe inspiring.  You get to experience the richness of that season--be it sledding in the snow, strolling through leaves, swimming in the lake, or watching the earth reawaken.  And all the while that you're taking these lovely things in, you know it won't last. The grandeur of another season will soon take its place. 

My friend, Mary, (Mar--you may as well be a guest writer here) and I were talking about seasons the other night at dinner.  Mary let me in on a little life philosophy of hers: To live everyday like the wedding is tomorrow.  It could be an actual wedding you're thinking of or figurative, but to live your life like you're on the brink.  There's joy and excitement the day before a wedding for nearly everyone involved!  The thought of living life in that way is thrilling even at its mention.  It's believing that what God is going to do next and what is coming is going to be so great that I'm giddy!  It is the joy of what He's going to do and eventually how He will be our Eternal Groom.  That's SO thrilling that the joy spills into today.  Because friends, not everything is perfect about any season.  The flowers might bring allergies or lots of mud, the snow is cold and can be dreary, the fall (is pretty close to perfect) can bring cold winds and foliage withers, while summer can be scorching and packed with activity.  There are wonderful and difficult things about each season and at times we find ourselves longing for the next one.  I find myself longing for my next season of life--whatever that looks like.  There are things about my story right now that make me look forward to what is next.

I think God conveniently made it that way after the fall.  Our perfect relationship with Him that we  were designed for was broken.  For us, that means that no stage or season, until we see Jesus face to face, will feel complete.  It's not supposed to.  We were made for a lot more than this and if we did feel complete in it, we would more easily forget about our Maker.  So we wait and look forward with giddy excitement.  Tomorrow could be the day that a new season arrives in your story!

The other half of my conversation with my friend was about contentment.  Great combination, right?  Contentment is an on-again, off-again struggle for me.  Some days I'm happy as a clam with my story and the current setting and plot.  Other days, I struggle.  I struggled living on my own again.  I was angry about feeling isolated.  Finally, one day, it was as if God said to me, "don't wish this away."  I was changed in that moment.  I'm done wishing away seasons.  They come and go quickly enough as it is and I always seem to be wanting what I don't have.  I'm done with that.  Well, I'm trying to be.  Contentment is choosing to see time spent alone as an appointment set aside by my Creator to simply enjoy my company without interruption.  These times and opportunities that I have with Him and to minister to others are unique--the richness of this season.  Even though I'm excited for what is to come, I refuse to wish that away.  It is such a sweet, sweet meantime.

Anticipation and contentment.  We need both pieces.  Life is best lived when we are, both looking forward in anticipation for what's to come, as well as refusing to wish away where we are.  Here's to joy in the journey, for stories of seasons past, for the beauty of the present, and the thrill of what's to come.

a song.

I haven't blogged in the past few days...mostly because I was working on this.

Or should I say, God gave me this song and I've been trying to do it justice.  It's fitting for the blog, I promise.

Enjoy.