Change of Plans

Today, my husband Rodney took off for Chicago to attend some kind of robot convention. This trip was somehow miscommunicated, and I only learned of it 3 hours before he left.

Mind blown.

Anyway, with Daddy gone, the kids and I ditched our conventional dinner plans in favor of a Redbox and some Chinese take-out.

Once the babies were all tucked in, I went to work picking up the remains of a weekend which consisted of bathroom renovations, two kids with respiratory infections, many guests, several outings, and two sleep-over nights including three 8-year-old girls. #SoMuchGiggling #SoLittleSleep

While cleaning my wonderfully quiet house, I began to pray out loud. I thanked God for my kitchen and dining room. Powerful ministry has been done because of those rooms. Beautiful things have transpired in my home-- and much of it over or around sharing food. Breaking bread, pouring out, doing life alongside people.

I thought about the fullness of our lives and the abundance of love and relationships we have. I thought about how we'd have none of that without small groups-- without God using Rodney to constantly inch me further from my very introverted comfort zone.

Tears came as I wiped down my table, realizing that the Father has straight-up used my discomfort and reluctance to bring about this fullness and joy. What a trade! In fact, my three closest friends all came into my life through small groups or through something outrageous that Rodney manifested for people to attend together.

I felt grateful for my crazy husband and for the realization that the Kingdom of heaven is relationships. Ultimately, it reminded me that if God can use a misfit hermit of a small group leader like me, He really can do anything through anyone, if we let Him.

So to anyone I've ever shared a small group with, thank you. Thank you for stretching me, for encouraging me, and for being a part of God doing His work in my heart.

Burn the Box

My pastor has recently taken on the task of preaching through the book of Revelation (no, there is not an "s" on the end of the word, thank you very much). If you've ever read it, then you already know that some of the text is straight-forward, while other parts of it are steeped in seemingly cryptic symbols.

One of the undeniable truths is that Jesus is coming for His bride. To rescue, redeem, and cleanse her. This time He isn't coming as a gentle, smiling, humble carpenter-- approachable by all. The book describes Him riding in on a white horse, wearing a coat dipped in blood, with fire in His eyes and a sword in His mouth. I don't even know what that would look like, but it sounds pretty hard core (and I'm grateful that He's on my side!).

Typically, I try to kick off my morning quiet time with some form of adoration or praise. It's how Jesus taught us to pray, and I figure it's a good way to make sure my heart is focused less on myself (because that's where it invariably wanders every time, which is a different post for a different day).

The other morning, I began by thanking Him for being so eternally gentle with me. I was appreciating His compassion and tenderness despite my constant state of rebellion and self-indulgence. Then I thought about this second Jesus-- the Braveheart-style one. And the contrast silenced me.

Too often, I'm guilty of making Him my own personal slot machine. I pull the handle of prayer, hoping that the outcome will result in my favor, my comfort, my happiness. It's like Jesus is my on-call safety net. It's so humanly one-sided and small.

He is infinitely patient and gentle, yet He comes with a sword IN HIS MOUTH.
He is a still, small voice, yet He conquered Death.

In light of that, I have nothing to give. My only response is reverent worship.

The thing that makes this even more beautiful is that He loves it. In chapters 5 and 8 of Revelation, we learn that our prayers are the incense that God uses to fill heaven's throne room. I am in awe of Him, and He is grateful for me.

The fierce warrior King is grateful for me. For you. So unpack everything from the box of what you think know about Him. Don't just upsize the box, either; He is limitless. Burn the thing to ashes, so you can pray bigger, expect more, and let Him flex. He's stronger, vaster, more colossal, beautiful, boundless, glorious, dazzling, and holy than we can comprehend.