My flesh and my heart fail; But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Psalm 73:26

I took a trip to ED the other evening. (For those of you around my age, it was previously known as the “ER”—not sure when the shift happened. But I digress.) It was not fun. At all. I’ll spare you all the details of the adventure, because there aren’t many positive things I can say about the entire experience…and “if you don’t have anything nice to say…”

What I will share—because we’re friends, after all—is that I herniated a disc, which, after working beyond the injury for another nine hours, turned into a complete whole-back seizure series that lasted for hours. Anyhoo, after almost a week of functioning in either a standing or prone position, I’m slowly on the mend. 

I needed this incident. I didn’t need the intense physical agony, for sure. But I needed to be reminded that my flesh will fail, but God is my strength. I needed to be reminded that it doesn’t matter how competent or confident we are in our work, how close we are to loving family members, or how rooted (or not- rooted) we are in our community, we must always be 100% dependent on God. 

Our finances will come and go—and every provision is from the Lord anyway. It’s all His. And our money could evaporate like smoke (layoff, medical bills, car repair, etc.) or pour down like rain. Regardless, God does not come and go. He is here and with us always (Matt 28:20).

Friends do come and go. Although I have a handful of friends who’ve known me over the decades and some deep friendships that are just a few years old, I believe the Lord brings friendships into our lives for seasons and reasons. They ebb and flow like the tide. But God never leaves us or forsakes us (Duet 31:6).

And, even though my husband and (very upset) son were next to me as I was lying on the floor unable to move, screaming and crying, they could not help me. I was alone in my pain, completely dependent on God. 

I was truly terrified. But through that time—and the days since when I haven’t been able to do a whole lot for myself—the Lord has made it very clear that He is in control, and I am not. We are not. We can make plans, determine where our path is going to lead us. But God directs our steps (Proverbs 16:9). He is Sovereign, and we are depended on His provision and goodness for the very breath in our lungs.

Lord, thanks for the reminder to hold on loosely to the things of this world and depend on You completely.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 

Matthew 11:28

The past several months (or has it been years?) have been, well, weird. And no matter where you land on the spectrum between “we’re all gonna die” and “this is all a hoax,” you’ve probably been experiencing weirdness at some level.

I have friends who are relishing this “downtime” with family—gardening, playing games, and enjoying time and activities not previously possible between kids’ sports, school events, and general out-and-aboutness. Other people I know haven’t been faring so well. Laid off or furloughed, finding a new job is nearly impossible in the current “not-open-for-business” culture. And for many of us, the constant “togetherness” combined with the frustration and fear about what’s happening in the country creates an edginess that overcomes and often overwhelms. 

As for me, I am just plain tired.

Even as I write blogs touting God’s sovereignty, His perfect will, and the fallen condition of humanity (primarily as reminders to myself), it’s easy to descend into a fog of weariness. Granted, I’ve been blessed that my business has kept me incredibly busy—and I work A LOT, which is mentally tiring. (This is especially true as the work-from-anywhere normal has eliminated any semblance of a 9-5 workday parameter.)

But this goes beyond work fatigue. It’s an emotional, psychological, and spiritual exhaustion from everything that’s going on (inside and outside my four walls). The result? I’ve got “too much work” to have lunch with a friend. I’m “too tired” to reach out for support. I’m “too something-or-another” even to attend church. And that’s exactly where Satan wants me to be. 

Just like a lion will wait for that straggler from the pack—the weak or slow one—our enemy prowls around us, seeking those most vulnerable so he can devour (1 Peter 5:8). My guard is down, and my weariness has made me susceptible.

It’s time to assess my ammunition levels and put my armor back on (Eph 6:10-20). I’m going to fasten my belt of truth and put on my breastplate of righteousness. I’ll tie my shoes of Gospel-sharing readiness. And, most importantly, hold up my shield of faith—and attach it to those of my faithful brothers and sisters—to extinguish the flaming darts coming my way. 

I am tired, yes. But I will rest in the Lord. I will trust Him amid the craziness of today. And I will remain standing firm as the battle between light and dark intensifies. 

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, My soul shall be joyful in my God; For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness.

Isaiah 61:10

Confession time: I’ve been kind of a mess lately. Looking at both macro and micro issues, so to speak, I feel pressed in on every side. Big-picture, way-beyond-my-control stuff—like the Orwellian dystopia that is our culture—can overtake my mind and heart like a dense black fog. And, closer to home, those I love are besieged by mighty struggles that daily break my heart.

I get it—really, I do. All these things are raging spiritual battles—the enemy’s fight is fierce for the world and its inhabitants. Despite my knowledge of this fact, as well as having confidence in this war’s ultimate outcome, my spirit is heavy.

So, when I opened the Word this morning to read Isaiah 61, the Lord spoke clearly to me of His unequivocal understanding. He gets me…and my experiences and internal struggles are not new. If you’re familiar with the launch of Jesus’ public ministry, you’ll know that He turned to this Scripture, reading aloud in the Synagogue to proclaim, “This is Me! I’ve come to heal and save you!” This is amazing, but the part of this chapter that pierced my soul today is in verse 3: Jesus also came to give those who mourn “the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” 

As this so accurately describes my current status, its remedy also jumped off the page: the garment of praise. This verse doesn’t necessarily mean we can just cast off the spirit of heaviness any more than we can cast off being cold. Instead, through Jesus, we are able to don a garment of praise—and by putting on praise, we don’t add another layer of heaviness…we lighten our spiritual load! 

And as the chapter continues, verse 10 delivers more wardrobe advice: “My soul shall be joyful in my God; for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness.” 

Because of Jesus, my clothes are no longer the rags of sin, death, and unrighteousness! Despite my fallen nature, God looks upon me in garments of perfected beauty. And (popping back up to verse 3), for this I can—I must—praise Him, adding another element to the outfit. (Think of it as a great accessory—the perfect scarf or necktie.) 

When we look in the mirror, brothers and sisters, is this the ensemble we see? Or do we wake up daily and pull on a t-shirt of fear, pants of despair, and a sweater of uncertainty—despite the clothes given to us by our precious Lord? 

You know that awesome feeling when you find that rare (and often elusive) outfit that fits perfectly and brings a sense of joy and confidence—maybe for a job interview or special occasion? Think about that and multiply that awesomeness by about a billion. Whatever is going on in our world, our home, or our own mind and body, we have what we need for joy and confidence. We have salvation that cannot be taken away. We have righteousness, despite our sin. We have reason to praise in all circumstances. 

God has given us a whole new wardrobe. So, go ahead, flaunt it.

Lord, remind me daily that You have given me the spiritual garments I need to take on each day with hope and joy—thank You!

Can a woman forget her nursing child, And not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands.

Isaiah 49:15-16

Mom. What a weighty word that is. To some, it’s a beautiful word and instantly brings a smile. To others, the very mention of the term evokes pain, sorrow—even anger. Maybe your mother and you are close. Maybe you’re completed disconnected, the mother-child bond disrupted by geographical distance, purposeful decision, or inevitable death.

Just in my current household of three, we’ve got a variety of “mom issues” going on. My mother and I had a pretty tumultuous relationship, thankfully mended just months before she very suddenly died (over 25 years ago). When my dad remarried, I gained a second mom, who stepped into the role of advisor and then grandmother to my boys. Then there’s my husband’s mother, from whom we’ve lived around the corner and thousands of miles away, but by whom we’ve consistently been emotionally pummeled. Suffice it say, my husband must daily confront the scars of trauma she initiated. Then there’s our almost-18-year-old adopted son, who deeply struggles with the abandonment by his birth mother, despite the endless depth of our love for him.

Regardless of whether you have a wonderful, strained, or nonexistent relationship with your mom, there is good news! We have a Heavenly Father who is always loving and compassionate. He will never abandon or forsake us. In fact, as Isaiah writes, we are inscribed on the palm of His hand (Isaiah 49:16).

I love that word, inscribed. It connotes such permanence. And then to envision myself eternally etched into the Saving, Protecting, Providing, Sovereign Hand of Almighty God—well, that’s pretty awesome. (It makes me think of how I write something on my hand, so I don’t forget it, but it inevitably smears or washes away—whether or not I’ve taken care of that something. The inscription of me onto God’s hand is NOTHING like that.) 

Moms are forgetful. Moms abandon. Moms have moments of lost compassion. Moms fail. So, if you are a mom or if you have/had a mom—and that would be all of us—be encouraged! Our God never forgets us. He will never forget us. He is always compassionate. God never fails us. We are inscribed in the palm of His hand.

Lord, thank You for Your steadfast love, protection, and provision. May I never forget that you will never forget or forsake me.

…the Most High rules over the kingdoms of the world and gives them to anyone He chooses. 

Daniel 4:25

In today’s era of social media and cults of personality, “leaders” are thrust into the culture to direct the masses, whether in politics, entertainment, media, or even some unsuspecting citizen. I don’t know about you, but I can get rather anxious about the individuals and/or ideas being pushed as someone(s)/something(s) “everybody” wants—or should want. Moreover, “heroes” of the day seem to come and go at the speed of light given the Twitter culture.

And then you’ve got the whole election-year drama (because, 2020 doesn’t have enough insanity already). And all these things (plus the additional fallout from them) are creating a generalized angst and pervasive despondency—it’s almost palpable when one actually ventures out from the bubble of home.  

What’s the spiritual point here? Two simple words from the book of Daniel sum it up: Heaven rules (Daniel 4:26).

See, global political leaders and flash-in-the-pan cultural heroes will come and go. Some walk with God and shine a light into the darkness of this world. Others are tools of Satan—the prince of this world—and do his bidding to keep its citizens under his thumb. Throughout history, and certainly from one end of the Bible to the other, this good-versus-evil battle for power has been constant. 

And it will continue until that glorious day when Satan is cast into the lake of fire forever—and Jesus, seated on the throne, makes all things new (Revelation 20-21).

As we live on this earth in the present day, what are we Christians to do? How can we find peace as we watch the social and political struggles for power and influence? Where do we turn for Truth when it seems so nebulous? 

We hold fast to the omnipotence of our great God, who created everything (Gen 1:1, Psalm 121:2, Col 1:16) and rules over it all (Hebrews 1:3, Prov 16:9, Heb 2:8). We stand in confident knowledge that He will sustain us through the rollercoasters of this life. Most importantly, regardless of how the story of our time on this earth unfolds, we know how it ends. 

(Spoiler alert) 

God wins.

The night before Herod was to bring him to trial, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, and sentries stood guard at the entrance.

Acts 12:6

I wish I could say I wrote this, but it was penned by another: There is no softer pillow than the Sovereignty of God.

God is in control. But are we, as Christians, able to rest in this fact—truly rest? The Apostle Peter sure was. In Acts we read about the birth of the Church. It’s a great book, if you haven’t delved in—full of action, adventure, and miracles (and persecution and martyrdom). In fact, just after James (the brother of John, those “Sons of Thunder” and besties of Jesus), was put to death by Herod, Peter was arrested. I’ll let you read about his angelic-led escape and the shocked prayer warriors, but three words in the saga that speak volumes to us: “Peter was sleeping.”

Huh? I don’t even sleep when I’m worried about work stuff, so I’m confident that if I were in prison, chained between guards, knowing I was to die the next morning…well, sleep would certainly evade me. 

Not Peter. He was sleeping like a baby. He knew what Jesus had accomplished on that cross. He knew he’d been forgiven for his many sins and failures. He’d experienced the power of the Holy Spirit promised him by the Risen Lord. He had no idea what dawn would bring. God had not promised him rescue—he believed his death was hours away. But he wasn’t planning a verbal plea for Herod to spare him. He wasn’t terrified of impending physical pain, should torture precede his death. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of what would happen to him on the other side of this life. He simply rested in the confidence of God’s Sovereignty.

As a Christian today, it is easy to toss and turn in bed with the tumult of the world swirling in our head. There is uncertainty (and plenty to fear) about the future, short- and long-term. But let me remind you (and myself) of a few Big Truths:

1. We know what Jesus accomplished on that cross.
2. We’ve been forgiven of our many sins and failures (past, present, and future).
3. We have experienced the power of the Holy Spirit—the power that has saved and transformed us.

So, brothers and sisters, lay your head on the soft pillow of faith…and rest confidently in the Sovereignty of our great and awesome God.

“The Israelites secretly did against the Lord their God things that were not right.” 

2 Kings 17:9a

Reading the history of the Israelites between their walkout from under Pharaoh’s thumb in Exodus through the books of Kings and Chronicles can be fascinating, inspiring, and very exasperating. They experience miraculous freedom and provision from their omnipotent God—and then quickly turn away to worship gods they create. And despite the perfect Authority of the King of Kings, they aspire to place on the throne men who seldom do the right thing. The Lord shows Himself mighty, manifesting promise after promise…and they collectively pull the stereotypical, “Squirrel!”—turning away at the first shiny thing that catches their eye.

During my recent walk through 2 Kings, I was taken by a verse—half a verse, really—tucked away amid stories of good kings and bad ones, judgements and blessings, and prophet miracles. It says, “The Israelites secretly did against the Lord their God things that were not right.” Of course, my first thought was, “Did they really believe they could do anything in secret that God didn’t know about?” But then the Word did what it does so well: reads me.

Are there things in my life that I think I’m “getting away with”? Is there some self-made idol that I have stashed away in a closet—something I pull out to take its place on an altar above the Lord? Do I rationalize certain pre-salvation behaviors because they’re “warranted by the times we live in”? Am putting political or cultural leaders (evil, good, or otherwise) on the throne, when it belongs to God? 

It makes me also think of the Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, just after they chose to believe Satan and disobey God. When they were “hiding” from God, God asked, “Where are you?” But it’s not like He didn’t know…He just wanted to give them a chance to come clean.

What about you? 

It’s time to open all the window shades, sweep out the closets, and shine a light into every dark corner of our souls. Because although we may think there are places to stash an idol, attitude, or action, there is no place to hide from the Lord. There are no secrets, so let’s just come clean.

“Lord, there is nowhere I can hide from You—or Your love. May I be quick to recognize my sin and ask for forgiveness. Thank you for your patience and mercy…because I’m not that different than those silly Israelites.”

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

2 Peter 3:9

In this time of tumult, when everything seems upside-down, it’s hard to talk about things other than all the insanity. Whether it’s economic fallout from this virus, accepted lawlessness in the streets, or the dismantling of our foundational liberties, no one is unaffected. As for me, I feel like I have to be that proverbial kid trying to stay oblivious to her surroundings, with fingers in ears, eyes shut, shouting, “Lalalalalala!” 

So, when I make time to get together with friends, we talk of family matters, work, and perhaps some mundane pleasantries. But each of these conversations (by phone, video, or in person) comes back to the madness swirling around us. And when my time is being spent with a Christian sister, we seem to come to the same conclusion: Things are so bad…oh, that the Lord would come back and take us out of here!

Things are bad—there’s no doubt about that. But they’re not as bad as they could (will?) be. In fact, if you’re familiar with Church history, you know that when the Apostle Paul was helping establish and exhort the first generations of Christians, the modern world was ruled by a guy named Nero. Our culture today has a growing disdain for Believers. Nero, however, despised them. He not only made an arena sport from death-by-lion, but he dipped Christians in wax, hung them around his property, and burned them as mood lighting for his nighttime garden parties. 

I have no doubt that those Christians believed—and prayed—that Jesus was coming back any minute. But God regularly reminded them through the words of the New Testament writers that no one can know when Jesus is returning for His Church. Because of that fact, Believers were urged to be vigilant and steadfast in their walk. And all those reminders are for us as well. First Thessalonians, chapter 5, exhorts us to be sober and ready. Mark tells us to be on alert (Mark 13:35). And as we wait, we’re to live holy and godly lives (2 Peter 3:11-12).

Why didn’t Jesus come back when His people were being burned in Nero’s backyard? Why hasn’t He returned during the past 1800 years of global Christian persecution, wars, pestilence, and famine? And why has He not plucked us out from this current pandemic and civil unrest? 

Because God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life (John 3:15). And the Lord is patient with us humans, not wanting anyone to perish—but for everyone to repent and come to Him (2 Peter 3:9). 

You and I may have trusted Jesus with our lives and future. We know, in the end, He wins—and because we’re on His team, we win too. But, friends, Jesus wants everyone on his team. Even the “Neros” of our world today. 

Jesus may very well return for His Church today. But He might not. So, as we keep an eye in the clouds and an ear out for the trumpet, let’s continue to fight the good fight. To be vigilant, sober-minded, and ready. And let’s spread the Good News to all who will listen that God is not done yet—there’s still room on His team.

Lord, I so want you to take me home. But, in the meantime, strengthen me to use the unrest of today to share the Gospel with others.

Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise! No one can measure his greatness. 

Psalm 145:3

Frustration happens. Whether it’s little things, like hitting every red light, or bigger things, like dealing with those “sandpaper people” at work. Yes, and there are the really big things as well—cultural, political, even global issues we really can’t do much about. 

Now, I’m not generally a complainer. In fact, with frustrations and irritants, as soon as I vent to someone (read: my husband), I can usually let them go. Usually. But, with certain areas of irritation (annoyance, anger, wits-end frustration), I can sound like a playlist set on “repeat.” Not good—for me or for those on the receiving end. Venting for venting sake, to revisit a complaint over and over again, does no good.

This is when I need to take a cue from our Biblical friend David. The Psalms are awesome, and I highly recommend that you pour through them and study the wealth of wisdom and guidance they hold. But one of the things I love about David is his unabashed transparency when it comes to his frustrations. He cries out to God when his enemies are chasing him, when he experiences betrayal, even when he feels abandoned by the Lord. 

I love that he starts out with some good venting—Psalm 109 is a great example. David spends 20 verses basically telling God, “Go get ‘em!” (He’s even pretty darn specific about what he wants the Lord to do to them.) But, consistently, David’s words and tone shift before these “venting” Psalms end. He takes the focus off of how others have wronged him and redirects it onto acknowledging God’s character and sovereignty. Often, he even turns to note the shortcomings and failures in his own character and walk, which immediately results in him asking for forgiveness and mercy. 

The most beautiful thing, however, is how David’s venting sessions tend to wrap up with praise. It’s as if he comes full circle to remember that no matter what his circumstances (and David saw—and did—the gamut of highs and lows), God is on the throne and worthy to be praised.

So, what’s the lesson here? Venting, by definition, can let off some emotional pressure. And that’s a good thing. But instead of allowing our venting to turn into a dripping of complaints or, worse, a griping habit, let’s take our frustrations to the Lord. In doing so, let us get some perspective about our situation—and our very big God—and turn our complaining into praise.

Lord, You are great and worthy to be praised! May my complaints of this life be absorbed into the Truth of who You, turning my groaning into singing.

Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life…                  

Deuteronomy 30:19

I was reading Isaiah’s astoundingly accurate prophecy of Jesus’ sacrifice for us. How He was pierced for our rebellion and crushed for our sin. He was painfully punished so we could be healed. 

And that image brought my mind to the cross and how our Lord hung as a criminal between two criminals.

If you’re older in the faith, you may know about the conversation that transpired among them. But here it is, from Luke’s Gospel:

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at Him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this Man has done nothing wrong.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into Your kingdom.”

Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with Me in paradise.”

~ Luke 23:39-43

And it struck me afresh: We are all criminals—sinners. Our sins are punishable by death and eternal separation from God, because sin cannot coexist with His perfect righteousness. More than that, though, each of us is represented by those two criminals. And every one of us has to make the same choice.

We can mock the Lord and doubt His authority and sovereignty. We can hurl insults at Him and His people, believing that He’s powerless to change our lives or our destiny. 

Or, we can recognize Jesus as Who He said He is—Creator of the universe, Immanuel (God with us), the Lamb Who was slain, the King of glory. We can accept the immense sacrifice He made on that cross, knowing that by surrendering to Him and His will, we are made new and forever free. 

Those two guys, hanging on either side of our Lord, symbolize two paths, two destinies, two decisions. Acceptance or rejection. Self-reliance or submission. Death or life. An eternity of peace or eternal anguish. 

What do you choose?