Dreams on a Distant Shore

You'll do exploits they said.  You'll change the world they said.  You have a great destiny they said.  We believed them.  

What they didn't teach us was how to fail.  What they didn't teach us was what to do when our dreams didn't come true.  They didn't talk to us about lost idealism, and how some would fall of their horses, and never get back on.  They didn't tell us of their own failures, they didn't tell us that because to whom much is given, much is required---that graduation basically meant our lives were now open season for the enemy---and that he would come at us HARD for the next 20-30 years of our lives.

The loss of idealism was like being on this wonderful merry-go-round of faith---beautiful music, lovely visuals, whimsy and laughter with the other riders.  Innocence.  And just as you were wishing for the ride to never end, the experience became violent.  The horses looked frenzied and spooked.  The platform started whirling faster and faster and the music became demented.  When the speed reached fever pitch, you were thrown off, landing in a pile of dust far from the other riders, each one scrapping on their own to find survival.  Some didn't make it.

They never told us about the evil merry-go-round.

When you've done your best to find destiny; you've taken the gift tests, you've read all the destiny books, you've tried hard to hone your ear to hear the Lord and obey what He's asked, but life still disappoints, what then?  When you look all around you and see others living the dream.  When you go to church, and hear testimony after testimony and you read Christian books and hear magnificent miracles, and amazing tales of saints who have had magnificent visitations of God and seemingly everything has gone their way, how do you maintain hope?

These are the questions I asked at 24, after my first ride on the merry-go-round.  After watching an entire community of faith dissolve and the most passionate believers I have ever had the privilege of calling friends dissipate.

These are the questions I asked at 38, after spending 10 years in New York City----the place every fiber of my being longed for, the place I was without a doubt, born to be, and also the place where every single dream died.  

These are the questions asked of us yesterday, as I sat amongst a group of other seasoned warriors.

These are questions I'm still answering, but I've found a few answers along the way.

1. Destiny is a word we always associate with the future.  What is difficult to see is how much of our true God-given destiny has already been lived out.  That person we took a meal to, the kind word of encouragement that wasn't planned but just flowed out of us when a friend was down, the offerings we've given over a lifetime.  We tend to discount these things.  They are most precious to God.  He remembers them all.

2. It's much harder to miss the will of God than we think.  Jonah flat out sprinted in the opposite direction of the will of God.  He still fulfilled his purpose.  

2. Nobody's life is how it appears on Facebook.  Very few live a life of continual miracles.  And if they do, they still have problems.  They aren't turning water into wine at their weddings. They still sin.  They still have to ask for forgiveness.

3. Sometimes we expect our lives to be like the Book of Acts.  But Acts tells the story of the APOSTLES.  Most of us are not.  Apostles.  Think about it.  I'd rather compare my life to Mary Magdalene.  Here's a woman who was troubled by demons, was set free, and became a loyal follower of Jesus. She was part of a company who helped fund his travels and went along to hear his teaching firsthand.  She was there at the cross until the bitter end and among the first to see him resurrected.  

This was the destiny of a woman at the time of Christ.  She got saved, forsook her past, gave her funds to support his work, followed him and remained loyal.  Nowhere do we read of her preaching, or leading 50 people to Christ.  As far as we know, she didn't perform miracles, she didn't take in 100 orphans, she didn't lead a women's group.  Or maybe she did.  But what our LORD valued is what was recorded.  SHE LOVED HIM. That's it. Destiny.

4.  It's easy to think destiny has to happen in the context of the local church.  Deep down we all long for affirmation and recognition.  At church, those who lead or are upfront are typically those who we think are REALLY doing God's work.  We don't feel we are really doing anything if we're not currently serving at church and attending every meeting and advancing toward leadership.

The truth is-----Church Leadership exists to EQUIP THE SAINTS TO DO THE WORK OF THE MINISTRY (Ephesians 4:12).  Their job is prepare us for our good works IN THE MARKETPLACE.

Longing to be a leader in the church?  Is really longing to teach others to do what WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING ALL THE TIME OURSELVES. Making a difference out there.  On the job, in the world.

How do we miss this?

For those of us who are in the latter part of our lives, and who have taken many rides on the merry-go-round---we have learned much, and have much to share.  Our challenge is to recover hope, grow in the faith that God responds to----and live in optimism, knowing that the God who saved us is the God who is going to enable us to say with Paul, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course . . ."

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Photo credit:  Justin Liebow on Unsplash

https://unsplash.com/@justinleibow

Standing Here Again

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Standing here again.  4 months in, and the optimism of the New Year has faded.  I look at my list of goals and feel uninspired.  I don't want to go to the box.  I don't want to exercise.  I don't want to give up sugar.  I don't want to eat more protein.  The fact is, I REALLY like Lucky Charms.  I like drinking Coke, and I would rather curl up with a good book than go out and do new things.  Goals are over-rated.  And no one ever really accomplishes what they say they will each year, anyway.  Right?

I know I have a lot of company out there.  I read Facebook posts all the time of folks talking about "real life" and fumbling and others applauding them for the same.  I write those kinds of posts too, and there is a real encouragement that comes in knowing we all are still figuring out life, how to do hard things, how to grow and change and become.

But this week, late at night, when I haven't been able to sleep, I started thinking about my goals differently.  Looking at a list of things which seem impossible and which honestly, have been on my list of goals for years . . .something about the process isn't working.  

So, I've started to think instead about WHO I want to be.

Do I want to read my life away, never actually DOING anything I read about?  Do I want to spent my time "pinning" things for inspiration, and never BE a source of inspiration myself?

Do I want my identity to be one who hangs out in coffee shops? Um, no.

I want more out of life.  I want to be who I'm called to be.  I want to be stirrer of the pot.  I want to be the rally cry for justice in the environments I find myself in.  I want to be someone who changes others by the life I lead.  

When I stop and think about WHO I want to be, rather than what I want to accomplish, everything changes.

I can put off a diet and a workout.  But I cannot put off becoming a person who is self-disciplined and has enough respect for myself to take better care.  I cannot put off stewarding my health, so that I have as many years on earth as possible to walk out God's purpose on the earth.

It's easy to look at my Spanish verb book, and tell myself I'll memorize them another day.  I've been doing it for 15 years.  But when I think back to the night the most accurate prophet I know prophesied over me----and told me I needed to learn another language because God wanted to take me to other nations to lift up the hands of those who labor there----it changes everything.

I have to stop thinking about goals as tasks.  I have to start seeing the work before me as character, as stewardship, as stepping stones to what I'm called to be and WHO I AM.  

What about you?  Who are you called to be?  And what have you done today to become that person?

Time is Life.  How we spend it, is who we are and who we are becoming.

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Photo cred: Zack Minor, Unsplash.  https://unsplash.com/zackography

Contending for Identity

There are certain things we know about ourselves that no one can talk us out of.  Pieces of our identity which are so rock solid, that we never need to hold them up to a metaphorical mirror to see if we're right.  

One of my certain things is my literary skills.  I'm an elementary teacher, and I've always been best at teaching reading and writing.  I'm a writer.  I love words, and I notice the shades of meaning present in conversation, and I choose my own words carefully, to reflect my exact intent.

Several years ago, those skills started slipping away.  It was barely noticeable at first---and began with me mixing up names of students.  No big deal, you might say.  Everyone does that. True.  Especially when you have a Bailey (boy), Bailey (girl), Shaelee, Haley and Kylee all in the same class.  But it was heightened.

Other things started to slip too.  I'm a meticulous speller and editor.  I rarely make mistakes, even on social media.  I started making tons and tons of errors.  I made them on Facebook, on the white board, in emails, in texts, and when writing in front of my students . . .it was not normal, and it was not me.

And then, I started having problems with simple word recall.  I'd be up teaching my students and not be able to retrieve a word, and I would have to describe it to my students and enlist their help.  What's that thing---you know----it has 4 legs and barks?

Ok, I'm exaggerating slightly, but not by much.  It was scary.  I lived with my aging grandma for 5 years after college, and watched firsthand as dementia slowly claimed her mind.  I wondered if I were destined to follow, at a far younger age.

When I started talking about my symptoms with friends older than myself, the near universal comment was "Yeah, welcome to old age."  But I knew, the way you just know sometimes, that what I was experiencing wasn't normal.

Satan always attacks us in the area of our strengths.  If I know one thing about my purpose in this world, it is that God has charged me with writing.  I don't say that to boast, because it is most definitely not what I would have chosen for myself.  And right now?  I don't have a clue as to what I'm supposed to write about.  

But, my symptoms were no accident.  They were meant to rob me of the tools God had equipped me with to fulfill His will.  I went to my doctor, and asked to see a specialist.

I was sent for a 4 hour memory test, which as it turns out, was very biased in favor of educators and anyone literary.  And after completing it, I was told that it was essentially a baseline test----and wouldn't really tell us anything until my memory worsened-----and the difference could be tested.  G-R-E-A-T.  

A few weeks later, I was running projection at church, and a gentleman known for hearing from God about people who need to be healed, stood up and mentioned someone who was worried about their memory, to the point that they had gone to their doctor for testing.  

Our pastor, who was standing at the front immediately pointed to me, and said THAT'S FOR YOU.  My small group, led by Pastor Bob, had recently prayed for me regarding my symptoms, so there was a recognition of God responding to our faith.

Excitement and faith hit my spirit, and there was an inner-fist pump YES, I KNEW IT! moment in my heart.  I'd love to say it was the AMEN answering the word of God calling me out.  It was much more of a YES!I KNEW IT WASNT OLD AGE! kind of thing.  

But then, the reality of the moment hit.  The Almighty God of the Universe had seen ME, and reached down HIS hand, inviting me to be healed.

I accepted.

I'm not sure how long after that I noticed the change in symptoms, but it happened pretty quickly.  I remember watching closely, thinking I had better wait and make sure before speaking up.

It's been over a year now.  90% of my symptoms are gone and have never returned.  The one thing which has held on is the name mix-up.  One of my sweet girls this year is always referred to as "Regena-I mean-LYLA", poor thing.  She will likely need therapy.

BUT, Glory to God---I do not make spelling errors any more, I can retrieve words, I don't get mixed up and turned around----like I did for that strange season of time.

I'm still contending not to mix up names.  The enemy can't have my gifts. He cannot have my identity.

Since then?  I've noticed bigger things He's robbed me of.  Parts of my identity I once fought him on, but gave up, and said, "Oh well.  That must just be me."

Only it's not.  And I'm picking up my sword again.  Join me?  Where has Satan attacked your identity and how long will you let it stick?

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Photo Cred: Dustin Lee 

Along Came a Boy

I watched him come down from the platform after a worship set, all the way to his seat.  His movements were one of a man completely comfortable in his own skin and of one who knew his place in the world.  There wasn’t an ounce of self-consciousness or hesitation.  More than that, he seemed used to having eyes on him, and was comfortable with the intensity of the spotlight. 

I had been crushing on him at this point for several weeks, and it wouldn’t be altogether amiss to say my passion for church attendance in Guatemala that summer was heightened. 

I had long ago ascertained there was no ring, no girl.  And, he was one of the few men at the church who arrived in a car.  By Guatemalan standards, he was rich.  I don’t know cars well, but it was a white mid-size sedan with tinted windows and gold accents which was far more expensive than anything I could afford.  Asking around discreetly had told us I was in love with a doctor, who just happened to also be an amazing pianist and worship leader. 

When my eyes finally left him that morning, to turn my attention back to the reason most people attend church, his head immediately turned and I felt his eyes and slow gaze on me, and he kept it there long enough to communicate the message, “Oh, I’m very aware little girl, that you have been checking me out.  I am taking notes on you too.”  Electricity ran through my body, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t the Holy Spirit.

That morning marked a shift in our “relationship” I was sure, and I had to make the most of my limited time left in the Land of Eternal Spring.

My Spanish teacher, Magaly, helped me draft a note to my beloved.  I didn’t think much could happen; I was leaving in one short week, with no plans to ever return.  But there was a driving need inside me for the boy to know my feelings; JUST IN CASE.  These overwhelming pinings that filled every waking hour had to be given voice. 

I still have a copy of the note and it intimated something to the effect of how his handsomeness and the beauty of God’s creation in him had made me happy during my stay in his fair country.  And something about birds.  (Because that makes sense.)  I’m sure I probably used the phrase “Sonríe de mi Corazon” because it was and still is one of my favorite Spanish idioms.  I can only hope my instructor had the same poetic soul that I did, though she seemed much more concerned about correct Spanish than about the very specific nuances I wanted to convey.

I talked my housemates into going for coffee and dessert at a little café right across from El Shaddai on Monday night; worship night practice.  My handsome doctor hadn’t been at church the day before, when I had planned to give him the note.  We eagerly ordered and waited patiently for their session to end.  I was jittery and hyper, knowing the meeting of all meetings; the one which would inevitably change my life forever was about to happen. 

I had not felt this “taken” with a man since I was 16, and have not been again since.  Though not love, and neither lust---the absolute press of emotion and wonder compelled me to action. 

I forgot I was awkward around boys; I forgot the ones who had broken my heart in the past.  The language barrier didn’t matter and the thousands of miles I was traveling away from him in a few short hours didn’t enter my mind.  All that mattered was the boy, and my need to connect.

I get why the phrase “He’s not that into you” was coined.  We go after the things in life we REALLY want.  Though my companions that day, one by one got tired of waiting, and left me to my fate----nothing could have deterred me from my purpose.   I had passion, and it compelled me forward, consequences be damned.

Lately?  I’ve been thinking about what is really important in life.  What is it that I need, no MUST prioritize this year as another cycle of school begins?  What is it that I’ve been pursuing already?  If we go after what we truly care about, what does my recent past show that I presently love?  Is it what I want it to be?

What things should I be pursuing that have fallen by the wayside?  And if I used to pursue them with passion, what changed in my heart?

That fateful night in La Antigua, Guatemala my boy didn’t show.  When I finally ventured into the church and inquired, no one knew where he was, or why he wasn’t where expected.  I left my perfectly penned and translated letter with a missionary friend, who promised on her life to make the delivery.

She was true to her word, and the boy and I eventually went on our first date.  TEN. YEARS. LATER.   (Another post, another day).

I looked the boy up online this morning, to see if I could find him.  He has a very distinctive name and it took all of 5 seconds.  Google is a wonderful, if evil tool. 

There is still no ring on my friend’s hand.  He still wears the look of one absolutely sure of himself, yet without pride, as only Latino men truly can.  His smile and gaze still send me to another world, and my heart still races when I see his smile.  He still has the ability to stop the traffic of my soul, like the raised baton of a conductor suspended momentarily . . .

Passion is a powerful force.  I want to turn my heart towards the right things in this season, and use passion’s power to fuel my dreams. 

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Photo Credit:  Bread for the World from Flick'r Creative Commons:  Holy City

Our Disappointments are God's Appointments

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After graduating from Portland Bible College, I wasn't certain what I was supposed to do next. But I was pretty sure it wasn't working an entry position at Old Country Buffet, the new restaurant opening up.  My mom had taken me to Vancouver's Employment Agency to help me find a job, and we had ended up at Old Country Buffet, where an angry-looking red-haired manager handed me an application.  After 4 years of hard work and dreams of breaking the bread of the Word, it was anti-climactic and flat out depressing. 

Not having any better options, I took the job and accepted my fate.  What I didn't expect was to have fun.  There is something exciting about launching anything new, and the owners and managers' enthusiasm soon became my own.

I worked days with a wild child named Christy, and along with the rest of the predominantly young staff, she made the job fun and memorable.  I was also allowed to improve some systems, which is one of my all-time favorite things to do, though I didn't know it back then.

As life marched on, I eventually went back to school to become a teacher, and held other jobs more related to that goal.  My friend and I kept in touch for awhile, but in the absence of Facebook and the internet, that was short-lived.

We got together one last time before I moved to NYC.  She had married, and given birth to her first daughter and I was moving away.  I had no way of knowing how our paths would eventually cross again.

I spent 10 years in New York City, before deciding to move back to the Pacific Northwest.  By then, the internet was up, running and fairly sophisticated and when I found myself looking at schools in Vancouver, I saw my friend, all-grown up and teaching 3rd grade at a happy looking school.

When we re-established contact, she gave her boss my resume, which eventually led to my current teaching position.  The entry level job at Old Country Buffet which initially was a great disappointment became the catalyst for future success.

It's a scenario many Biblical characters are familiar with.  Joseph's betrayal by his brothers, a particularly cruel disappointment, led to his appointment as "Second in Command" in the nation of Egypt and his gift of leadership saved the nation from starvation.   Mary and Martha's disappointment at their Lord's arrival after their brother's death, led to the greatest show of power that had been seen up to that moment in history, Lazarus' resurrection from the grave.

When I was little, I used to get this magazine called "Bread for Children."  One month the title was "Our Disappointments are God's Appointments."  I have found this to be true.  Teaching jobs in this area are highly competitive, and it can be tough just to land an interview.  God planned ahead for me, and gave me the contact I would need 16 YEARS before I would need it.  What a great Dad.

What disappoints you in life right now?  Can you envision it redeemed by God?  Have you experienced a false accusation and borne up under it, like Joseph?  Could God be up to something?  How has God surprised you in the past by redeeming disappointments?  

God's ways are not our ways.  Sometimes our darkest circumstances are meant to bring glory to God once He turns it for our good.  

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Photo Credit: By Snade6 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Practice Doesn't Make Perfect; It Just Makes You Old

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Allow me to be blunt.  I see in our present church culture a spiritual "failure to launch."  In the circle of churches my church belongs to, we talk a lot about finding destiny, and about fulfilling God's purpose in our lives.

Yet, the reality for many (and I'm preaching to myself here) is that we spend hours figuring out our gift mix, being mentored, working on our character, serving to serve (but not necessarily placed strategically) and PRACTICING.  

As adults, sometimes we forget that the purpose of PRACTICE?  Is to actually get into the game and play our hearts out.  We practice for so long, trying to perfect our game---that we become comfortable sitting on the bench----and think it's normal to watch others and cheer them on---rather than actually advancing to the batting cage, and running the bases ourselves.

I'm done practicing.  I'm choosing to start playing, even if I get thrown out at first to start.

5 Principles Helping me with Destiny

1.  My destiny belongs squarely in the hands of Jesus, no one else.  

He is the one who prepared before the foundation of the world the good works I would walk in.  I do not need to impress man to have a door opened.  Men only open doors God has already opened, and the heart of a King (or pastor) is like channels of water to God.  Likewise, if a door remains shut? I cannot blame a leader---I have to contend with God, and find out why He has closed the door.  

2.  To fulfill my destiny, I need to hear God's voice and obey.  

That's it, in a nutshell.  I don't need to read 5 books on spiritual gifts, 3 on vision, 3 on leadership, and 8 on character.  I need to spend time with Jesus, get his heart for my life, my day, my week---and then go out and do it.

3.  Destiny includes the little decisions we make daily for good.  

Cups of cold water count.  God is not nearly as hung up on the "big" things as we are.  He's not going to ask how many times we got to preach, or prophesy.  We don't always see that we are fulfilling our destiny when we have a conversation with a child, when we send an encouraging note, when we give a ride to someone without one.  If we can't categorize it and put it on a list to mark off, we don't think we've done anything.  I think we will be surprised at what was recorded on our behalf.  Apostles aren't the only ones with destiny and destiny isn't always about tomorrow.  I bet you've already done something great today.

4.  For most of us, our role in the marketplace, is our greatest spiritual contribution and place of destiny. 

When I was trying to decide my vocation, I had more God moments and confirmations of entering the teaching profession than any other single decision I've ever made.  I know that I am in God's will in my job.  Yet, like many other Christians, it has often been tough to assign Kingdom value to my life away from church.  It can feel that the only thing that matters in eternity is that which we do within the 4 walls of the place we worship.  I think that concept would have been foreign to New Testament believers.  Church is where we are supposed to be equipped, not where we are supposed to shine.  

5.  Perfect character is not required.  

Character matters, to be sure.  But the Bible is chock full of men and women of destiny who had seriously screwed up character.  God chose them anyway.  God used them anyway.  Awhile back I took a church history class from my pastor.  It seriously offended me to find out how flawed many of the "great" leaders in church history were.  And how big they blew it.  And how God chose and used them anyway.  

We CANNOT afford to wait until we conquer just one more thing before we get in the game. There is a dying world out there and WE ARE THE HOPE OF THE WORLD.  Hell, the world doesn't even want us to be perfect.  They just want us to stop being so arrogant.

I am not perfect.  I can hit a baseball over the fence---but I have to be good at bats, because I need a looong time to run.  I have to play outfield because I don't think fast enough to play 2nd base.  Just ask Bob Vanderbilt, my old softball coach.  

I don't care anymore.  I am not staying on the bench.  I am going to find the heart of God for my life, and run after it.  I'm going to stop reading so many books, and stop planning. I'm done practicing.  I'm in the game and I'm going to do great things. And new things. And small things. 

I don't think God is all that offended by leaders who fall.  His blood has already covered them.  I think God is much more offended by those of us who fail to launch and bury our talents.  It shows an inherent lack of trust in His Father's heart.

Practice doesn't make perfect; it just makes us old.  Join me in the game.