That's why it's called stepping out in faith, Mary!

Those longish feet are mine. But they're fraidy feet. They boast of many things like how fearless they are, how they're up for amazing adventure, but the truth is, they're scared to trust when the shoe rubber hits the grass.

I've been making a shift lately. Some of you have seen it here, discerned it. I'm stepping out into new territory, afraid, yet expectant. I'm embracing the calling God has whispered in my ear, confirmed through many of you.

I am to write for you.

For those who suffer.

For those who differ.

For those who feel alone.

In that, I'm seeing such growth. In me. And in you.

But I'm still a little scared to trust. To step forward. To throw my dreams at Jesus' feet.

Odd how this has been one of the most stressful weeks of my year, full of money stress, angst, and a crazy roller-coaster ride of emotions. Such lows and highs. Criticism measured. Praise given. (I learned yesterday that I was a Christy Award Finalist for Daisy Chain.) Money pestering.

I hear the echoes of Hebrews 11:1: "Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." I don't know if going this new, streamlined direction will produce income. I can't see the future. I don't know what tomorrow holds. And often, I cower instead of rest in confidence. I'm a learner. A struggler. An honest girl who makes mistakes, afraid of stepping out for fear of failure.

And yet, there's the calling.

Right now, I take one step into that unknown. Will you step with me?

Will I ever take criticism well?

Today I received constructive feedback from something I participated in. I should've known better than to open the file. But I did. And now I'm lost in unworthiness.

Yes, there were nice things folks wrote. Some positive comments. But my mind doesn't stay on those. It clings to everything awful, to the cutting remarks. I'm not sure why I'm this way, and I do wish I were different. Criticism makes me cringe. It makes me want to cry. This is what I hear: "You're not worth being here."

Of course I know that's not true. Jesus paid so much for me, for you, for the people who penned those critical words. Jesus helps me to remember to be gentle on my critiques, to sand away the snide, to think of constructive words. And when I receive them? I should place them in His hands. After all, He received the harshest rebukes. Some folks even called him the devil.

I'm not saying I'm Jesus and that I am above criticism. Lord knows I have a lot to learn in every single area of my life. But it helps me somehow to know He understands what it feels like to be criticized. And that He gave those over to His Father. It comforts me to know Jesus was fully human as well as fully God, that He suffered the same temptations I've suffered. That He knew how to walk through criticism with grace.

Lord, I'm feeling as small as can be today. Ready to cry, ready to throw in the proverbial towel. But as I pray this, as I hold those words of critique close to my heart, I realize there are others out there reading this going through much deeper trials, much sadder days. Lift their heads as You lift mine. Help us all to see Your beauty in the devastation of the day. Help us see You in the midst. Thank You for Your life, for walking this earth as a man, yet triumphing so beautifully. Touch us, please. Amen.

The Mark Part Five: Choose Your Enemies Wisely

Yesterday on my run, the song "Cedars of Lebanon" by U2 came up. The last stanza stunned me. It's taken me a day to digest it, but I believe there's deep truth for the victims of sexual abuse hidden there. The lyrics:

Choose your enemies carefully, 'cause they will define you   Make them interesting 'cause in some ways they will mind you   They're not there in the beginning but when your story ends   Gonna last with you longer than your friends 

How much of my life has been defined by those two boys who stole me at five? Have I given them far too much power? There was a large chunk of my life where they ruled my mind. Nightmares, daymares, flashbacks all tortured me for a time. And then as I healed, as Jesus took my hand and led me down a healthier path, the boys faded from memory. I can't remember their faces. I hope and pray they don't last longer than my friends.


But they can, if I let them. If I stay back there in those bully memories for too long. I visit them only to proclaim healing, thankfully. But if I stay, they have a way of entangling my mind.


One of my favorite verses emphasizes the great looking forward we must do as those who have been hurt in the past. (And you don't have to have the type of abuse I've experienced to have pain. We all have pain. All foster regret, anguish, awkward moments.)


Isaiah 43:18-19

Do not call to mind the former things,
         Or ponder things of the past.
Behold, I will do something new,
         Now it will spring forth;
         Will you not be aware of it?
         I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
         Rivers in the desert.

God is in the business of creating new things. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, "Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come." I fear that we miss those new things by staying too long with the bullies of our past. The question Isaiah poses, "Will you not be aware of it?" is an important one. It implies that we can be so preoccupied with the past that we'll miss the roadways in the desert. By staying too long in the past, we'll overlook a river through the desert of that memory.

Oswald Chambers says it beautifully. "Let the past sleep. But let it sleep on the bosom of Christ, and go out into the irresistible future with Him."

We have an irresistible future! We don't need to follow U2's words. We don't need to be defined by our enemies. They do not have power over us. They cannot haunt us if we're pressing forward, looking to the future, awaiting the new things God brings.

Jesus asked the paralytic in John 5:6 the question He asks you today: When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?"

You have been in your condition many years now. Do you want to get well? Really? Would you rather rehash the past over and over in an endless loop of pain, or do you want healing? I have found that most people don't pursue healing. The difference between the healed people and those still living in the past defined by their enemies is this: tenacious running after healing. You have to want to get well so bad it wakes you up at night.

The truth: THERE IS NO PASSIVE HEALING.

The truth: Your enemies no longer need to define you.

The truth: You can be set free. You can experience rivers in the desert.

The truth: With Jesus, there is an irresistible future.

The choice is before you today. What will you do?

Recent pics! Gussied up, the lake, my garden, a holy meal.

Getting ready to go to SMU for an author's event.

Julia and Pippin

The most unusual flower. I have no idea what it is! Found near the water.

Lake Ray Hubbard

Probably my best shot. Julia in the field near the lake.

Pippin in the grass & flowers.

Love that you can see through the hole to further green.

Ah, my garden is growing.

Our dear friends when we did a Seder meal before Easter. So much fun!

The Mark Part Four: The Idol of Victimhood

This is a hard post to write and admit to. But it's true. You'd think that someone who was a victim of abuse would shun that victimhood status the moment she realized it, flinging it as far as the East is from the West. Nope. I coddled it. Nursed it. Loved it to ragged death.

At first I said nothing of the abuse. For ten years, I kept my mouth shut. I had nightmares, waking with sweat and fear and heart pounding, but I still didn't reveal what had happened to me.

Then I met Jesus, and He gave me the courage to share once. By the time I walked with him a few years, I shared the story more times. Then it became a strange, happy drug. When I shared it, folks would empathize, send me kindhearted looks, offer to pray. For several years, I relished the attention the story would bring until being a victim became sort of an idol.

Instead of running to God for healing, I ran to human empathy and approval. I hoped the embrace and pity of others would fill me. And they did for a time.

But then something dynamic came. Healing. Blessed, needed healing. My friends in college probably don't even realize they were part of such a revolution for me. But they were. They prayed me toward health. And suddenly, I no longer felt the need to share my story in order to get attention.

For ten more years, I kept it inside, remembering how I'd made it an idol. My twenties blurred by as I birthed and raised three kids. But the wounds, which I thought were healed, came back. The scars resurfaced. As if God knew that I'd need to revisit them when I was stronger.

So I spent my thirties tentatively sharing my story. With counselors. With a few trusted friends. With my husband. And more healing came, this time slower, more methodical.

Today I am more whole. I know my vulnerability to idolize victimhood. Even typing it here is a risk. I'll risk getting empathy for my story, of trying to fill myself up with praise rather than a settled peace in God. I'm here to tell you that making an idol of my plight got me nowhere, really. But throwing the whole sorry mess at Jesus' feet brought the healing I needed.

If I cling to the past that way, needing it to validate and lift me up, I will miss the now, the future. I truly believe that many of us who had painful stories from our pasts sometimes prefer to continue to live in them. If we know chaos and pain, chances are that our fallback will be to live in that same chaos and pain. If we've been victimized, chances are if we're not victimized again through our choices, we're choosing to victimize ourselves by berating ourselves internally.

Some questions:

• Do you want to be set free?
• Are you afraid of normal?
• Do you cling to your victimhood for attention? To feel alive?
• How has God been asking you to grow into health?
• What prevents you from pursuing healing?

I'm curious what your answers will be.

The Mark Part Three: Fear

I mentioned a little bit about my fear in the last post. But my fears are deeper, more insidious than what scratches the surface.

I'm afraid to be alone. Not alone in merely the empty house, dark night type of alone, but in the loneliness sense. I fear my husband will die. I fear my kids will die. I actually think about this a lot, which is distressing for me. Like I'm preparing for the worse. I suppose a lot of that comes from having a parent die when I was only ten. Death so young shakes your world.

But maybe it's because when those boys took me, they took me alone. And alone, I had to figure a way to save myself. Such a huge responsibility, that. Particularly for a five-year-old. So I don't like thinking about life without relationships, without the safety of those who love me gathered around.

I'm afraid of sickness. Maybe I'm this way because the perpetrators who stole me away did so without my consent, without any predictions on my part that what would happen would be so soul-killing. To me, sickness looms that way. It surprises you. It steals from you. It shocks you. It's often out of your sphere of control.

I'm afraid of rejection. This may be more related to other issues in growing up, as those boys didn't reject me. They embraced me (in the worse possible way). But they cemented a belief in my mind that I was completely unworthy of normal affection, of tender care, of kindness. So I nurse those same feelings when others reject me. I fall into the pit where I believe those strange lies as truth. Rejection=my worthlessness.

I'm afraid of creepy men. I guess this goes without saying, right? But the creep-o-meter ding-ding-dings in me when I meet one. And I run away as best I can. I block some of Facebook. I am cautious about being alone when I travel. I worry that rape will happen again, and whether I'll be able to handle it, survive it.

I don't want to end this post mired in my fears. God has truly, truly walked me farther along the fearless journey. These all used to scream at me; now they whisper. I also think if I let my mind linger too long on a particular fear, I'll give the enemy of my soul a welcome mat to my heart. He wreaks havoc in there, through the threshold of my fears.

So I pray. And pray. And ask others to pray. And I rest in eternity, knowing someday all my issues will be wiped away, all my fears relieved. I may be walking fearful at times on this earth, but those are numbered days. Eternity will be fearless for me. In that, I rejoice.

The Mark Part Two: 10 Ways Sexual Abuse has Shaped Me.

Yesterday I posted about the Mark sexual abuse victims feel the wear. You can read it here if you'd like to catch up. 

In no particular order, here are ten things I've dealt with in the aftermath of being raped as a five-year-old:

1. I have believed I have no worth, other than to be used for someone else's pleasure. I'm thankful this has faded quite a bit, and Jesus has healed me of so much. Still, it lingers. I can easily feel used in so many different areas of my life.
2. I have been extremely afraid of the dark, of sleep, of storms, of scary situations, of seedy areas of town.
3. I get sick to my stomach when I'm around someone I perceive to be a perpetrator. This actually served me well when I was younger and ran into folks like this. It made me freak out and run away.
4. And yet, I seem to be a magnet for people like this. And if I don't initially perceive the danger, I can tend to trust folks who are predatory (not necessarily sexually, but anyone who is bent on relational destruction).
5. I've turned the abuse I received into an excuse to abuse myself. If you could live inside my head a bit, you'd see how relentlessly I chastise myself. I'm learning, slowly, that this is not normal or good behavior. Once my hubby said, "I would never treat you the way you treat yourself." I sensed God ask me, "Would you treat your best friend the way you treat yourself?" I had to answer NO, which meant I realized I'd been abusing myself.
6. I have believed the lie that I am how I look. How I appear to others and myself is the most important thing. I only have worth if I appear pretty. As I grow older, thankfully, I'm seeing how destructive this is. And since beauty fades with age (outer beauty, that is), I'm learning to let go if this ridiculous notion. I want to have a heart that's beautiful, anyway.
7. I pray for my kids that they'l never, ever, ever have to go through what I went through. 
8. As I mentioned in this article about the marriage bed, I've had a hard time connecting myself in the moment with sex.
9. I don't view the world with rose colored glasses. Very quickly a bad day can plunge me into an Anne of Green Gables-like depths of despair. While God has healed so much, I still tend to fall rapidly when bad things happen.
10. I've learned to pray for my abusers, which has given me a lot of freedom. Usually those who have been abused abuse others, so I'm guessing those boys were also abused. And if they carry that secret with them, they must be carrying a lot of raging shame. Lord, please heal them.

So now you know what a mess I am. And yet, so much healing has taken place. Astounding healing. I am whole. I am alive. I am free. I still carry scars. The mark is faded, but it's still there. And, hopefully, I see the mark not as a sad story of abuse, but as a testimony of how outrageous God's rescuing love is.

The Mark Part One

This came from a reader recently:

A thought for your blog sometime... I would be really interested in hearing you talk more about this idea that those who are abused are"marked." I read about this and believe that it's true, but I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on it.

I'll answer this in the next several posts, but I wanted to start with one I wrote about a year ago about the mark and how it's affected me professionally.

***

Lord, as I write this I pray Your words would settle into me and leap onto the page. Heal folks. Expose evil. Help me share Your heart here. Amen.

For those of us who have survived sexual abuse, life twists and turns in alleys of confusion. Thank God He picks us up thousands of times, dusts us off, heals us, and enables us to continue walking.

That's been my story. I was sexually abused by neighborhood boys throughout my kindergarten year. That was nearly forty years ago, but the mark they left on me, though faded, is still there.

Some would argue that once someone comes to Jesus, the mark is beautifully erased. Perhaps for some that is true. But I liken that hellish year to healing and scars. Yes, I've been healed. But the scars remain. I am marked.

I knew this growing up. Other predators had some sort of mark locating devise. They'd find me in horse stalls, in tree houses, on the playground, in homes. They'd try to take away what I already lost. Thank God I had legs that could run. With every advance, I'd take off running.

It baffled me, though, when the mark attracted men when I faced my dating years. And believe me, if anyone tried anything, I broke up or ran. I joked the other day with my kids that when my "boyfriends" tried to kiss me in my early dating years, I did two things: freaked out, then broke up.

Once I was married to the man of my dreams, the antithesis to the predators, I settled into a kind of comfortable safety. No one would see my mark now!

And for many years, that was true. As a stay at home mommy, I didn't see many men, didn't interact much, other than at church.

Enter the Christian writing world. And a little of my own naivety. The mark re-emerged. As if dormant from a long, happy sleep, it awoke with a vengeance. And predators once again saw it, noticed it, and sought to exploit it.

I write this today not to freak you all out, those of you who are entering into the business (or any arena of business or ministry), but to issue a firm caution. Don't assume that since we're writing books for the Christian market that everyone in the market is trustworthy. Or the best thing for you. And particularly if you're a woman wearing this mark, be ultra-cautious of men, particularly those in authority. Don't seek publication so much that you turn off your creep-factor measuring device. Keep it on. If you're married, be sure you meet those industry professionals (if at all possible) with your husband in tow. And don't let the secret part of your heart thrill at an industry professional's praise, particularly if it comes off with a hint of sexual innuendo.

In retrospect, I realize six things:

• The mark, faded as it is, can inflame when I'm not building into my own marriage and family or I'm not seeking God. And when I let my neediness for attention trump everything else. Truth? I like attention. I like feeling like I'm pretty. But if I seek after that, rather than seek God's heart, I become vulnerable to predators again.
• I wish someone would have told me all this way back when. So I'm telling you. If you have a mark or are prone to be preyed upon, take note. Watch your male/female relationships more closely. Don't let your ambition taint your predator radar. And yet don't merely be cautious about opposite sex relationships. I also found myself vulnerable to other women who were predatory (not sexually, but in other soul-demeaning ways. Predators come in every shape and size and sex.)
• Prayer cannot be discounted. Your ability to notice predatory tendencies in someone has everything to do with discernment. And seeking to be very close to God in prayer will keep your discernment on high alert. It's when you allow the fluff of fame to infiltrate your head that you let down boundaries.
• It is entirely possible to have great relationships with people in this industry. I cherish my friendships, both male and female. Of course, not everyone is a predator. And many folks are dear, dear Jesus-loving writers, publishers, editors, and agents. Don't let your mark or fear prevent you from these relationships.
• Nurture yourself. Realize your weak spots. Build into your soul.
• Seek accountability. I have a small group of dear friends who know my journey through predators. And they pray for me, and ask me good questions, and pray some more. 

Someday, when the New Earth dawns, I'll be free of this mark forever. And Jesus will use every trauma to beautify me--not with the earthly type of beauty I sometimes long to praised for here on earth, but an ethereal, eternal beauty. I pray the Lord would truly, deeply use my own markedness to change the landscape of the Kingdom of God. In this way, I can revel in the mark, be openly cautious about the vulnerability the mark creates, and thank God for His protection and provision along the journey.

A Girl Never Outgrows the Need for a Daddy

He walks, gray haired, down my street. Ambling really. A white dog skips at his feet, and when the dog does his business, the old man stoops, then scoops. He wears a white hat, the man, and a kindness I agonize over.

Would my father stoop? Would he wear a white hat? Would he walk, step by step, down a suburban street, cajoling his dog? Would he wear plaid? White tennis shoes? Too large jeans?

He didn't see me graduate from elementary school, junior high, high school, college.

He didn't walk me down the aisle.

He didn't hold his first grandchild, didn't applaud my first book.

Most days I don't think about it much. I've learned to live with the hole a Daddy leaves when he leaves earth for good. But seeing the stoop shouldered man, his gentle, slow ways, makes me long again for that blood-tie, that familiarity.

I shake the thought of the man from my mind as a tear forms. I tell it not to, but it puddles nonetheless. As brave as I can, I slip my hand into the Hand of the One who fathers me still.

I've been looking at everything wrong

Recently I had the privilege of hearing Charlie Peacock teach at Mount Hermon. I loved what he had to say about art and the movement of our world, so much so that I picked up his book At The Crossroads, his magnum opus about CCM (Contemporary Christian Music). Fascinating, enlightening book. As a closet singer, and a lover of music, I so appreciate his heart and mind.

And then I read this gem:

"In truth, the idea that any element of God's creation--be it music or a tree--has to do something in order to justify its existence has more to do with capitalism, consumerism, and marketing than with the doctrine of creation" (p. 104).

This turned my world upside down. Why? Because my whole life I've (wrongly) felt that in order to justify my existence on earth, I had to do things. To perform. To be perfect. To do everything right. And if I didn't (which happens every. single. day), I felt I had to reason to be here.

But that's looking at creation (me) as a commodity, not as a created being. It's assigning worth based on my intrinsic value to produce, to fill holes, to do things.

It's not true.

It's not true.

It's not true.

As much as I've entrenched this idea way deep into my DNA, it's not true that I must live up to standards or be super cool to earn my keep here. I simply must be. To revel in being a creation, dearly loved by Jesus, sacrificed for, graced unconditionally.

I am not a product.

I do not need to market me to prove my worth to others.

I am too valuable to be consumed.

I wonder how much my mindset about everything is tainted by a consumeristic mindset. I wonder if I view others as things to be had instead of people to be loved. I wonder why I've lacked in grace for myself when I didn't perform up to standards.

What if I'm just loved? Right now. Right here. For no other reason than I am a creation who breathes, laughs, weeps, rejoices, hollers, loves?

It may take me a while, but I'm liking the sound of these words: I don't have to justify the space I take up on earth any more.

Life Altering Books!

I'd love to hear about the books that are impacting your life today. Here are two of mine:

 

Left to Tell by Imaculee Ilibagiza.Wow. Read this on my Kindle on the way to Mount Hermon. It’s about a woman who survives (true story) the Rwandan holocaust by hiding with several other women in a pastor’s closet where she has no room to move. She does this for months. While in that darkened closet, she asks for a French English dictionary and the pastor’s only 2 English books and teaches herself English. Her heart, forgiveness, and beauty astounded me. It reminded me of another amazing book, As We Forgive by Catherine Claire Larson which details amazing stories of reconciliation between perpetrators and victims of the same holocaust. At the end of that, I realized this: If these people can forgive the folks who hacheted their entire families, why am I holding onto to my unforgiveness? Absolutely lifechanging book.

 


The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan.  I’ve read this book in the past and it helped revolutionize my view of rhythm and sabbath. In the chaos of living in France and all that went on there, Sabbath became a holy sanctuary for me and my family. But in the midst of my crazy-busy life here in America, I teeter on the brink of burnout. I realized that I’ve relegated Sabbath to the back burner again. So I’m re-reading this book. It’s like dark chocolate during a craving. So beautifully written. So invitational. So counter cultural. I’m going through a shift in my writing career, finding that One Thing, and sensing a change. This book is reorienting me in the best possible way.

Saying no to say yes

Today I had to write a hard post, detailing why I'm letting go of a great blog. Maybe you've been in that place where you've had to say no to something good in order to pursue something greater. That's where I am. And I'm determined, by God's grace, to walk in obedience. Which means I will disappoint folks. Say no to requests. Walk away from things that seem terrific.

Yet, as I teeter on the brink of burnout, I see some light, thankfully. Life's coming into clearer focus. Family is beckoning. Sabbath is wooing. Life's being lived. And I'm tired of having life just be work-work-work. It must be more.

I pray you're finding places to live in life. To move away from chaos or expectations. To fully live in the moment. To engage with real people who stand in front of you (instead of represent themselves with cursor and font).

This revolution is small, taking in sips, but I feel the rejuvenation like spring sunshine on my face.

Life in Defiance Trailer is Here!

Only a few more weeks and Life in Defiance will release. May 11th to be exact. My editor says it's the best book I've written. The trailer is below.

Where are you in the song?

I am a scribbler on random pieces of paper. On the back of my Mount Hermon prayer, a thought came to me, so I jotted a few notes. Here's the fleshing out of that idea.

How is your life like a verse to a song? Often it's the verses that recount theology or a current state. Like:

Blessed be Your name in the land that is plentiful, where Your streams of abundance flow,
Blessed be Your name
And blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering, oh there's pain in the offering,
Blessed be Your name.

See how the verse states reality?

And then most choruses resound God's truth:

Blessed be the name of the Lord; blessed be the name.
Blessed be the name of the Lord; blessed be Your glorious name.

It's a repetition of praise for what God has done in the in between times, how He's intersected our verses, our day to day lives. Often the chorus is the resounding of God's goodness.

So my question is: Where are you?

Are you living in the refrain of beauty and sorrow? Or are you repeating praises for what God has done in those places?

There's no wrong answer, just a state of being.

Me? I'm looking forward to the chorus, but I'm in the middle of a verse, a life lesson that feels big. I hope to get to the refrain of praise soon.

No idols? Ha!

I laughed when the man of God proclaimed from the TV: "Well, we all know America doesn't worship idols, so we can skip that verse."

Really?

Isn't an idol something you replace with God? Isn't it something you fill yourself up with, revere, pay homage to? America is full of idols. Maybe we don't offer incense to them, but we do offer our lives, our reputations, our money. Here's a list I've recently developed. I don't list these to impugn, per se, but to illuminate some of my own idols. 

First a definition: "Idolatry is always the reason we ever do anything wrong.” Tim Keller, Counterfeit Gods

What is an idol? Romans 1:24-25

• Setting your heart on something other than God.
• Something other than God that you must have to be happy.
• Anything that captures your imagination more than God.
• Anything you seek outside of God that only God can give.
• If I have _____________, then my life will have meaning; I will have value; I’ll be significant and secure.
• Something you can’t live without or imagine your life without.

Determining your idols. Ask yourself:

• What is operating in the place of Jesus as your salvation or savior?
• What are you most afraid of?
• What is the worst thing that could ever happen to you? Be honest.
• Where does your mind wander when you’re not thinking of other things? What do you daydream about? What worries keep you up at night?
• What do you spend the most on? (In what area is it hard to control your spending?)
• How do you react when disappointment comes? Whatever causes despair=idol.
• What are your most uncontrollable emotions?
• What must you have at any cost?
• Fill in the blank: I would be horrified and humiliated if ________________.

Some of our idols:

• Love, romance
• Pets
• Chaos
• Invincibility, risk taking, thrill seeking
• Something tangible to point to that shows worth: a building, a ministry, a house, a car, a promotion, a successful hobby, an empire, a business, a perfect family
• Exploitation of others, or allowing yourself to be exploited (Victim mentality)
• Appearing or being better than someone else, needing to be right
• Athletics (either playing or following)
• Peer approval, people pleasing
• Money, prosperity (conversely: austerity, poverty)
• Work, workaholism
• Looks, body image, beauty, getting or being in shape, being thin
• Power, demanding respect
• Avoidance (of enemies, criticism, uncomfortable situations)
• Control (your children, your world, your life, your job, your relationships)
• Reputation, critical acclaim, achievement
• Stability, safety, security, lack of change, lack of suffering
• Peace, lack of conflict
• Relationships, family, friends (harmony)
• Favorable political climate (your party in power, the laws you like passed)
• Success (work, ministry, parenting, relationships, sports, etc.)
• Knowledge, education
• Competence, skill
• Morality, perfectionism, virtue, personal piety
• Sex
• Addictions (porn, shopping, alcohol, food, drugs, video games, approval)
• Art, creative expression, music
• Entertainment, recreation, vacation, sloth, lethargy

What now?

It’s not enough to identify them. It’s not simply repenting. It’s repenting connected to rejoicing, as Timothy Keller expounds in Counterfeit Gods. You must worship Who is greater. You must place God as the central part of your life. Anything short of that is idolatry. 

 

I type this with trepidation, with fear. Because I know myself. I know how much I "need" approval from others. How I long to feel pretty to experience deep satisfaction. How I equate my output with my worth. I have worshiped idols. Given my life for them on many levels. And I've experienced the emptiness that comes from such a thing. 

I'm curious what your journey is. What are your idols? And how has God enlivened your heart, quickened you to turn away? Tell your story in the comments.

·    

Sunday poem

I see it stark
the metal-framed bed pushed violently
against the back wall
not so I wouldn't fall to the floorboards
in a widening crevasse
but so I could embrace plaster
hope in its protection
as ghosts blew through
so near I tasted their breaths

that wall
my protection
my haven
my only friend

until You

Samples of my portrait work

Jeff Gerke of Marcher Lord Press.

Cheryl Ricker, who won the Poetry Award at Mount Hermon.

Austin Boyd, novelist.

Kathy Ide, a great writer and editor.

Steve Laube, agent.

Rebeca Seitz, Publicist for Glass Road PR.

Marlo Schalesky, novelist (and great roommate!)

Jacque Alberta, editor for Zondervan.

It was a huge privilege to photograph these folks and others at Mount Hermon. It's been my way of raising money to go to the Lausanne Congress. If you live in the Dallas area and need a head shot (or family pics or senior pics or dance pics), find out more about my photography here.

Mount Hermon Prayer 2010

I had the privilege again this year to pray at the Palm Sunday service at Mount Hermon. Not usually prone to write out my prayers for a situation like this, I felt God nudge me to be sure I prayed particular things. So I wrote it down. Here it is. I pray it blesses you. I pray it becomes your prayer, my prayer, our prayer.


"Ah Lord GOD! Behold, You have made the heavens and the earth by Your great power and by Your outstretched arm! Nothing is too difficult for You" (Jeremiah 32:17).

Lord, we are a fearful people. Forgive us for elevating security and safety above You. Fearful, we do not risk. We prefer the status quo over living the adventure of following in Your steps. Forgive us for finding satisfaction in complacency, in the way things have always been, in the way we think life should be.


Lord, we live in the land of If Only. If only we could point to a published piece, a reader's positive feedback, a stellar bottom line. Lord, ground us in the great right now, away from the tyranny of if only. Please be our sufficiency.


Forgive us for filling the recesses of our hearts with lesser things. Forgive us for elevating our acclaim over your rightful fame. Forgive us for seeing today's struggles as if they were bigger than You.


Thank You that it's not our harried performance You're after--that You don't call us to be big and strong. Forgive us for thinking our strength accomplishes Your purposes. May we shake hands with our weakness today, knowing that our weakness is the dance floor You dance Your strength.


Enlarge our view of You. Grow our hearts to receive more of Your heart. Expand our minds enough to embrace Your mystery, Your intricacy, Your perplexing beauty.


We want to be a people who see You lofty, who have an affectionate view of our readers and a sensible, healthy view of ourselves.


Do what You will, Lord. Take it all--our insecurities, jealousies, trials, hopes, successes, journeys, and temptations. We choose in this holy moment to let go of worry, stress, and striving. Oh Jesus, it's all for You.


Amen.