Your comments made me cry.

I always feel so very humbled by your love and support when I share my heart, my reality.

On the deployment front, this is the time when it starts to get hard. We keep reminding ourselves that the anticipation of it–the goodbyes, the emptiness, but probably not the little boys’ heartache–is almost always worse than the actuality, because our Father gives grace for the moment.

In the vein of reality, here are a few others sharing their own authenticity:

• Elizabeth posting at YLCF about the reality of singleness. So raw, and yet so beautiful.

• Katie talking about the reality of motherhood–and how little we really know. I think that’s a good thing.

• My mother, Mishel, on the reality of divorce. Ugly, painful, heart-rending divorce.

• Sarah, talking about the reality of criticism. Although I can’t believe this turned into a controversy about makeup.
  

• Alece (bravely) guest posting at InProgress about the reality of praying for her husband’s repentance. Even as a daughter, I’m not quite there yet.
  

All of these beautiful, strong women have challenged me today to pursue transparency and authenticity. Even when it’s difficult.

Because the Father gives grace in the moment.

We heave when we walk down the street. We’re lightheaded after bounding up the stairs. It takes effort to unload groceries from the truck to the kitchen. Boxes are much heavier than they were two weeks ago.

There are a lot of changes when one moves from being, literally, at sea level to a mountain village sitting at 10, 200 feet elevation. The severe lack of oxygen is a force with which to be reckoned.

I knew I’d have to seriously adjust my baking when I moved here. An extra quarter cup flour here, a little more baking powder there. But who would have thought that I’d have problems with my contact lenses–with my very vision? Or that I’d be ready for a nap by the time my little people hit their pillows each afternoon, and I’d still be needing toothpicks for my eyelids by nine o’clock at night? I didn’t foresee the voracious appetite that would set me into munchie mode by mid-morning every day.

(When I come up here to visit, I typically sleep a zillion extra hours, eat like a horse AND I lose weight. Go figure.)

(But I’ll take it.)

All of this is in addition to the freezing temps and the snow that lasts… well… most of the year.

Going from the lowlands to the high places isn’t exactly easy.

But people do it. Because it’s worth it.

Our Mountains ~ Summer

Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring.

Worth it.

What are your lowlands? Complacency? Self-righteousness? Cold-heartedness? Judgement? Anger? Bitterness?

What are the forces that drive you upward? Disillusionment? Betrayal? Confession? Brokenness? Loss?

Who are the companions that steal your oxygen? Shock? Despair? Anguish? Confusion? Abandonment? An aching spirit? Physical pain?

And what, oh beautiful friend, are the rewards? Redemption. Newness. Clarity. Beauty. Dancing. Wholeness. Restoration. Forgiveness. Jesus.

Altitude isn’t without difficulty. It pulls the very breath from our chests, affects our vision and is beyond exhausting.

But the fragile beauty, achingly alluring, can render the burning lungs, stinging eyes, chilly fingers and even the icy patches unspeakably valuable.

Leave the lowlands. Follow Him to the peaks.

When I started reading Elizabeth Esther’s blog, at the recommendation of my friend Sarah, I caught my breath more than a few times. Here was someone who understood and wrote MY heart. How was this possible? By the time she and I met face to face, there was no question our hearts were kindred. At my request, this sweet and wise woman has graced us with her presence here at Heart and Home today.

As you read this, my family is traversing across the United States in the company of my husband’s parents, a dog and a not-so-happy cat. I had every intention of mentioning this fact in the post I never wrote last Friday, but I was highly distracted by the sea of boxes and all the wonderful people who put their lives on hold to help us out this past week. But don’t worry–you’ll be hearing the scoop on the moving truck that wasn’t big enough and the water spilling out of the bathroom and the landlords who were overly eager to have the house re-occupied.

In the meantime, read and be blessed.

It was a blazing hot day in the Yosemite valley. We parked the Suburban on the side of the road and loaded ourselves down with chairs, towels, a picnic lunch. The children took off running across the meadow, headed for the shady trees next to the river.

“Stay on the path! Stay where we can see you! Don’t go near the river!” I shouted after them.

“OK!” they called back over their shoulders.

They were so excited, thrilled to swim on this hot day. I just wanted to find a cool place to rest. I was 9 weeks pregnant with the twins; nauseous and exhausted. The walk across the meadow seemed like the journey of a thousand miles.

I hunkered down and plodded through a meadow buzzing with bees and butterflies. Ahead of me, the children suddenly disappeared around a curve in the path.

Matt and I quickened our step to catch up–they couldn’t hear us if we called. A thread of anxiety weaved its way through my heart. And just as I was about to call out for them, it happened.

A bloodcurdling, violent scream. The kind that makes every mother’s heart stop. It was Jude.

A second scream joined in. James.

“DADDY! DADDY! JUDE IS DROWNING!”

Matt dropped his load and sprinted down the path, over a fallen log and out of sight. I dropped my things and followed, praying harder than I ever have.

“O God, please. Please help.”

Jude’s screams were louder now, more desperate–short sticcato gulps of panic.

I rounded the bend and saw them. Matt was yanking Jude up by one arm. James stood trembling nearby. The screaming ceased.

Jude had fallen into the river. He was submerged up to his neck, hanging onto a clump of grass from the riverbank. A few more seconds and he would have been gone. Matt pulled him out just in time.

The boys walked toward me, heads hanging. They were both crying. For a moment, we couldn’t say anything. It had been such a close call.

“James, why did you lead your brother close to the river?” Matt asked.

“I dunno,” James said, dashing at his face with the back of his hand. “I didn’t think it was that bad. But Jude slipped…”

“You should have listened to us!” I snapped, my voice loud and angry. “Instead, you disobeyed us! Your brother could have been seriously hurt!”

James’ face crumpled and I felt terrible. I was hopped up on adrenaline and really upset. I needed to cool off. We gathered up our things and trudged down toward a sandy spot near the river. No-one was talking.

We unpacked our bags, spread out towels. Matt blew up the inflatable river rafts. The tension eased and the children began to play. Jude was back to being his happy little self.

The afternoon progressed. We splashed around in the river and floated on the rafts. Later on we drove back to our hotel and once there, I sat down with James. I apologized for getting so angry at him. I explained why I had been so upset.

We hugged and kissed. All was well.

But that night, I couldn’t fall asleep. The whole scene kept replaying through my mind.

And then I thought about how Matt had run to the rescue. He had dropped everything and sprinted toward his son without hesitation. Yes, they had disobeyed. Yes, they had gotten themselves into this mess.

But a father’s love for his children is unconditional. It will stop at nothing.

A Father’s love runs to the rescue. A Father’s love runs out to meet His prodigal child.

At that moment, the tears I had been holding inside all day finally splashed down my cheeks.

I’ve never felt good enough. I’ve struggled with perfectionism ever since I was a trembling, fearful child being raised in an oppressive church. I’ve always felt unworthy of love.

But He’s been saying it to me for all my life. And that night, for the first time I finally heard it. I finally believed Him.

Elizabeth, I love you like that, too.

Read more from Elizabeth Esther and let your heart be challenged and encouraged.

Questions:

Is God’s will meant to be “found?”

Is it mysterious?

Are we to search for his will, not making decisions about life until we’ve discovered it?

Answer:

I’m not sure.

Oh, I know. Profound. But as I’ve said a time or two before, I’m not one to have many answers these days.

This is why I jumped at the chance to review Kevin DeYoung’s new book Just Do Something, in audio book format from Christianaudio.com. I’m a big fan of audio books, being I don’t have many blocks of time to sit and turn pages, but I DO have a lot of time when my hands are busy but my ears are still available. When the narration is well done and the book isn’t too long–which were both true in this case–the situation is ideal.

They call it multi-tasking. I call it… survival.

Kevin DeYoung puts forth the premise of God’s will being straightforward, predetermined and easily understood: to love God with our whole hearts, serve him, obey him as outlined in his Word, and after that… to do what we like.

I wasn’t sure what I thought as the book began, being I’ve always heard Christian-ese conversations peppered with phrases such as, “Just pray about it,” “I can’t make a move until God shows me his will,” “I don’t get why I’m doing this, but God’s telling me to do it,” and, “I need to wait until I have a peace about this.”

Of course each of those have a grain of their own merit, being we are told to ask God for wisdom, we shouldn’t make decisions until we’ve figured out God’s will on a matter, and sometimes God’s way doesn’t make sense to us.

But, as DeYoung points out, many, many modern Christians are paralyzed by fear–albeit, fear with a good cause–of doing the wrong thing because it just might not be God’s will. They pause, searching, waiting to have “a peace” about a situation, or for some special revelation from God.

God’s will is seen as mystical, mysterious and something he expects us to search for endlessly. It’s as if, DeYoung describes, God is dangling his will in front of our faces, then playing hide and seek with it.

I don’t see the God of the Bible having a character that delights in tormenting his children after he tells them to obey.

Instead, DeYoung suggests, God has a definite will. But it’s much more concrete than we imagine. Throughout the Bible, God always connects direct statements about finding his will with statements about following his commands. He has asked us to obey the basic statutes given to us in his Word–to love him, to love others, to follow his principles and seek to become more like him. But he doesn’t tell us to live on an endless quest, trying, searching, hoping, always unsure if we’re doing the right thing–if we’ve found God’s will.

DeYoung tackles the hard stuff–jobs, marriage and personal responsibility with a clarity I’ve never heard before when dealing with the topic of “finding” God’s will. He offers the idea that God has given us clear principles in his Word to live by, and as long as we are obeying him in those areas and are seeking him, walking closely with him, we will have the wisdom needed to make decisions that are in line with God’s will. When we’re following his direct will, we can have any number of good possible options available to pursue, and any one of them could be God’s will–but that doesn’t mean that only one of them is God’s will.

My retelling may be clear as mud, though I have to say that this book definitely solidified answers to some questions I’ve had churning for several years regarding the way God works. I’ve been talking with various friends for years about the question of whether or not, when a person marries, those two are God’s one and only for each other. Is there really one person on the face of the planet for every other one person, and we are supposed to hope we find that person before we die, possibly in the general vicinity of our 20’s?

Um, I don’t think so.

God gives some pretty clear principles to live by regarding finding a spouse, and if the potential partner in question matches that standard he’s set and we, you know, like the person, then God gives the go ahead, and that person is now God’s will for us.

(Conversely, just because the person in question matches that standard, doesn’t mean that person must certainly be God’s will for us. Especially if we don’t like them. We also have to be sure we’re using God’s standard and not one we’ve concocted on our own or someone else has made for us… but that’s a rabbit trail I won’t head down today!)

In keeping with this school of thought, it would mean that perhaps we’re attributing too much to God’s will. We’re telling ourselves everything that happens must happen for one specific reason and that it’s always God’s perfect will. The fact of the matter is that we live in a world that has been corrupted by sin and sometimes bad things just happen. People make wrong choices. Other people end up hurt. To say that God specifically ordered all of those tragedies, catastrophes and difficult times would be a cruel theology.

Yes, he may ultimately use them for our good, but I don’t believe it’s all part of his perfect will that we’re just too human to understand. But that gets into the issues of God’s permissive will and his perfect will, which I’m simply too day-worn from packing boxes to tackle right now, especially when DeYoung already does it so succinctly in the book.

I don’t necessarily have it all thought out fully, nor do I think these ideas are flawless. I personally believe the will of God might just be one of those issues that is simply too high for our finite minds to fully comprehend on earth. So in the mean time, we use our minds to the best of our abilities and continue to walk closely with him.

What I will wholeheartedly agree with Kevin DeYoung on is the idea that we need to stop waiting around for God to suddenly speak audibly to us, or to necessarily give us a feeling of calm before making decisions. I know people who have waited around for years, trying to figure out “God’s will for their lives.”

With DeYoung, I say, follow Jesus and just do something.

What do you think? Is God’s will already laid out in scripture or is it something we’re to be on the lookout for?

Do we find God’s will or has it already found us?

Whether well-rehearsed or just tossing a thought out there, hash it out with me in the comments!

Sometimes I wish I could reclaim my innocence.

I don’t mean I grew up too fast. Or that someone took my childhood by force in a heinous act.

I was lovingly protected in every way as a child and was sheltered from many of the world’s atrocities. I was the girl who left my American Girl dolls sitting out well past ten years old and who, to this day, tends to be the most naive person in a group of friends when it comes to worldly wisdom.

No, it is not an innocence of age or experience I wish for.

I wish for a spiritual innocence.

I yearn to push rewind. Go back to a time when I thought being a Christian meant–really, truly meant–loving Jesus and loving people. I want to move backward to the time before I gauged a person’s spiritual maturity based on how many controversial topics they were aware of and how well they could defend their position.

~~~

There is a tiny spot in my memory of being a little girl who simply loved her Jesus. One who danced around the living room singing made-up songs about Him, for Him. She was happy and she laughed freely. She was always excited to meet people who also loved her Jesus.

Somewhere along the way, someone told her–through words, through actions, even through facial expressions–that simply loving and serving Jesus wasn’t enough.

A real Christian, she was told, A growing and mature Christian has many important things to contemplate.

There were many, many weighty matters to which she needed to turn her mind.

She needed to worry about the length of her skirt. At the knee, below the knee, or to the ankle? She needed to be sure the person who led her to Christ read to her from the right Bible version that night. Here are the correct words to the sinner’s prayer. She needed to study a chapter of the New Testament and decide whether or not she would wear an outward symbol of authority. Should it cover all of the hair, or just the top of the head? She needed to have strong opinions on schooling, government, political activism. Government schools will ruin the children–the children we need to raise to take over that very government. She needed to think about the number of children she’d have one day, the skills she’d need to care for them and the spouse she’d need to have them. Courtship? Betrothal? She needed to figure out whether a person chooses God or if God chooses the person. Five points or free will? She needed to stick to one type of music. Rhythm… friend or foe? She needed to know what kind of worship style was the most like the New Testament church. Liturgical, Traditional, Contemporary… or no church? She needed to figure out what was the most Biblical way to raise her children. Spank? No Spank? Cry? No Cry? She needed to label her marriage. Is the wife equal, lesser, or just different?

She needed to do… and be… and fit… and try.

She needed to never stop striving to figure it out and to develop a passion for any and all of her opinions and conclusions.

Soon, she looked around and realized the Jesus she’d loved as a girl was nowhere to be found.

At least, she couldn’t find him in all of her doing and being and trying and striving.

~~~

I talk to people who are simply Christians.

They love Him. They love His people. They walk hand in hand with Him every day. They deal with the hardship and heartache, they live normal lives, but they are so wrapped up in Jesus that He encompasses their vision. They look at His beloved ones, and they find Him.

They’re unaware that it might not be that simple.

They may or may not hold opinions on any number of Christian doctrines and teachings. They may or may not have taken Bible courses. They may or may not have read multiple books coming from every angle. They may be a veritable fount of Biblical knowledge or they may be new in the faith.

But either way, they simply, beautifully love Jesus. They serve Him. They act as His hands and feet. They passionately tell of Him and His sacrifice. They just love Jesus. And they live Him.

Don’t they know it could be more difficult than this? Aren’t they missing something?

Don’t they realize there are so many issues to sort out before we can live that way?

I talk, I smile, I watch, I wonder.

A wistful vision flashes before me, of a little girl, happily twirling, singing, “My Jesus! My Jesus! My Jesus!”

And I envy their innocence.