Discovering True Intimacy with Our Savior

Loathing Christmas

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Well, it’s that time of the year.  The time when little elves start decorating the streets with twinkly stars and red and green tinseled wreaths.  When children, and grown-ups alike, start making their christmas lists. When getting one mile down the road takes 30 minutes, and when a casual run to the grocery store turns into a wrestling match with a silver-haired lady for the last box of confectioners sugar.  When parents line their toddlers up for pictures with Santa where their faces are so contorted from their screams that they are barely recognizable.  Ah, yes.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year.  Or is it?

Let me preface the rest of this post by saying that if you are the kind of person whose eyes glaze over at the sound of Jingle Bells or if visions of sugar-plums dance in your head you probably need to hit that little “X” in the corner of your screen and pretend this post doesn’t exist.  But if you are as jaded about Christmas as a jigsaw, then press on.

For those that are still with me: let’s get real about Christmas.  I hate this time of the year.  You might say, “Nikol, ‘hate’ is such a strong word.”  Yes, it is.  So, let me repeat.  I hate this time of the year.

As a Christian, I had a hard time admitting this about myself.  Few things have liberated me more than when I said those nine little words, “Hi.  My name is Nikol, and I hate Christmas.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love that Jesus was born.  I love that one very thing about Christmas.  But that one thing gets lost in the proverbial hustle and bustle of the season.

My dread of all things Christmas happened 13 years ago this week.  My father passed away two days before Thanksgiving and the holidays were never the same.  Traditions that I once looked forward to were replaced with a sadness of one more year without my dad.

As time ticked on, so did the loathing.  My birthday falls right in the middle of Christmas and New Years.  Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a wife and mother.  So, in October (yes, October – don’t get me started), when I see the Christmas decorations being unpacked on the shelves at stores, I almost have a physical reaction as I brace for the inevitable holiday season and another reminder that I’m still single and another year older.

With all that being said, it’s not a surprise that I get depressed this time of the year.  Lots of people do.  While the world wants us to believe that this is a magical time of the year, the truth is, for many people, it’s a nightmare.   Remember those masks that I was telling you about in Fear and Freedom?  Well, if there is ever a time when folks put on those masks it’s during the Christmas season.

Last year, God showed me that there is hope for the Scrooges like me out there – those people that have been battered and bruised by life and by dreams left unfulfilled.  So, in a bold act of faith, I’m taking God up on His challenge to write a series of blogs on re-thinking Christmas.  To be honest, I have no idea what He is up to.  I have no idea how many blogs will be in the series and I have no idea what they will be about, but I’m willing to make-like-a-wise-man and hop on a camel and see where He’s leading.

So, even though that familiar dread has descended upon me as the holidays approach, I am hopeful and thankful.  I am hopeful that this Christmas will be better than the last and I’m thankful that the God who fulfilled His promise to Abraham over 2,000 years ago is the same God that keeps His promises today.

So, throw some chestnuts on the fire, grab a cup of hot chocolate and let’s see where He takes us.  In the meantime, tell me what you loath about Christmas.

Fear & Freedom

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Over the last several years God has given me a conviction to be transparent with people.  Some people think I share too much.  I’ve been accused of worse, but the way I see it, there are too many folks walking around this planet with masks on acting like everything is fine when inside they are hurting.

The enemy of this world likes our masks because they isolate us.  They keep people at a distance because we fear what others might see behind our mask.  Perhaps they might find fear or anger, maybe they’ll find weakness and shame; they might realize you don’t have it all together; perhaps they’ll find pride or arrogance, or they’ll discover the hurt or bitterness that you’ve kept locked in your heart for years or decades.

As a Christian, as a follower of a God whose very essence is truth, I find it is my responsibility to take the mask off.  To let people see what a real walk with God in this broken world is all about.  And I’ve discovered the most extraordinary thing about taking off your mask:  once you remove yours, people feel safe to do the same, and you find that you aren’t alone.  That’s when healing can begin.  When love can replace the shame, the hurt, the fear, the bitterness, the fill-in-the-blank emotion deep within us that locks us away.  It’s when community can be built – not only with others – but with the God of the universe.  For without transparency there can be no trust because trust must be built on truth.

So, in the spirit of full transparency I want to confess that I’ve been struggling with fear.  It’s a suffocating fear.  A fear that grips me in my soul and won’t let go.  Though the words may change, behind it is always the same question, “What if it turns out God isn’t real?”  The thought terrifies me.

I can hear the gasps now, “What did she say?”  “Isn’t this a site about learning how to have a real relationship with God?” Yes.  It is.  But questioning God’s existence is part of the journey, isn’t it?  Struggling with the fear that maybe He isn’t real is part of struggle through the murkiness of this world.  As humans, we want to see things before we believe them, but faith with sight is not faith at all (2 Corinthians 5:7).  We have to have faith despite our fears.

Obviously, I wouldn’t have this site if I didn’t think God was real.  In my heart I know that I know that I know that He’s real.  And He is.  But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t confess that there is still that darkness that lurks around the corner.  The darkness of fear that threatens me.  The darkness of “What if?”

So, what do I do with the what ifs?  I give them back to God.  I confess it – this fear that He isn’t real.  I know it’s not from Him (Romans 8:15).  I know it’s from the enemy.  This war isn’t against my flesh.  It’s a war being fought in the heavenlies (Ephesians 6:12).  It’s a war being fought for my very soul, and it’s a battle that has already been won (John 16:33).

I have a theory.  (Well, I have lots of theories, but one in particular that goes along with the topic of fear.)  I have a theory that if you fear something – that very thing – is the thing you should do.  Now, I’m not talking about standing head-to-head with a grizzly bear and challenging him to a wrestling match or playing chicken in the middle of the road with an 18-wheeler. I’m talking about taking a risk.  Looking back at my life, it’s when I risked doing the very things that I was afraid to do that I found the most freedom because fear binds.   Overcoming fear frees!

To free ourselves from fear requires action.  It requires experiencing the very thing we fear. Which, by definition, is a scary place because bad things could happen.  But good things can happen too.

What I want is so much more than to know that God is real.  I want to experience a real God.  There is a difference in knowing and experiencing.  I can read something and have knowledge, but until I experience it – until I risk putting my faith into what I’ve learned – I can’t really testify to it.

You see, I want to experience for myself who God is and that He is faithful.  That He speaks through His Spirit and that He is good at His word.  I’ve trusted Him with my eternity, and I want to testify that He’s not just a God of me when I die, but that He’s a God of me as I live this journey called life.  I want to know that there is more to God that what’s after this life.

I want to know that I can experience Him like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Have conversations with Him & see His glory like Moses.

Know His heart and see His promises fulfilled like David.

Hear His voice in my soul and see His deliverance like Daniel.

Walk with Him and experience His love for me like John.

And testify to his mighty works and His ability to redeem and transform me like Paul.

And eventually – yes, eventually – look in the mirror and slowing start to see Jesus’ image and not my own.

So, I’ll continue to believe in God despite my fear, because if I don’t, I will never know what it is like to truly know Him and experience Him.  I’ll never know that He keeps His promises if I don’t believe in them.  That’s a risk I’m willing to take.

So, what are you afraid of?  Maybe it is time to take a risk.  Go ahead.  Do it.

Take the mask off.
Bid on the job that you are afraid you might not get.
Move somewhere God is leading you.
Talk to a someone you’ve never met.
Apologize to the person you think could never forgive you.
Tell that person you love them.
Trust that God is real and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him (Hebrews 11:6).

The only thing you have to lose is fear but what you can gain is freedom!

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”  – Deuteronomy 31:8

Journey to the Promised Land

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I’m at El Bethel inside the toasty condo.  I’m perched on the chaise lounge in the master bedroom listening to the sound of the waves as they crash onto the shore.  I love this place.  Everything about it screams home.  It’s my sanctuary.  God speaks to me here like no other place on earth.

I have big hopes for this weekend.  I’ve prayed for God to show up BIG here.  To bless me with His presence.  To talk to each one of us in a special way.  I’m so excited. This place to me is like holy ground.

With the exception of the first trip down here back in the Summer of ’09, the quest to enter our sanctuary has been challenged by Satan.  He’s pretty creative in how he attempts to delay our entry into this holy of holies.

Just before New Year’s, our arrival was delayed because we missed a turn that sent us about two hours off course.  Rumor has it that the turn has never been missed in the history of the condo, which just so happens to be 20+ years.  We didn’t arrive at the condo until after midnight.  I would like to say that it was good times – and don’t get me wrong, there were some great laughs – but all in all, being stuck in a car after a long day at work for six hours, lost in the pitch blackness of night on a country road 150 miles south of nowhere, is not cool.  I don’t care who you are.

Our next journey to El Bethel was early this summer.  We were giddy with excitement.  (Five months is entirely too long to be away!)  It was Memorial Day weekend, and so we knew traffic would be painful.  Having two people in a group that delight in efficiency, we devised a plan to avoid traffic.  It was genius!

Full of pride, we embarked on our journey.  As you know, God isn’t a big fan of pride and  being consistent like He is, remained true to His word, “Pride goes before destruction; a haughty spirit before the fall” (Prov. 16:18):  three hours into our drive, we missed our exit.  (NOTE:  When someone says, “You’re going to get off the interstate at 106,” don’t automatically assume that “106” is the exit number.  It might be the highway number.)

Just before midnight, we arrived at the condo.  We had a minor setback when we closed the garage door before the car was completely unpacked, and to no one’s surprise at that point, the keypad blew a gasket (literally) and we weren’t able to finish unloading the car until the next morning.  What are the odds?

Last night we began yet another pilgrimage to our safe haven.  Satan was quick to respond and immediately began his assault.  We couldn’t find the key, so we petitioned the throne of grace.  Minutes later a spare key was located and all seemed right in the world again.

This time no exits were missed and no turns overlooked.  We made great time and reached our destination unscathed, despite the fact that we almost hit what appeared to be a tiger (okay, so maybe it was a mountain lion….or a bobcat…or a coyote…they all look the same as they dart in front of your car in the middle of the night).

Unfortunately, Satan’s siege was just beginning as we spoke these eerily prophetic words: “Should we hold off in unloading the car until we check to make sure the key works?”  I’m sure you could hear a pin drop in heaven as the angels gasped at the profoundness of that statement.  Moments later it became apparent that the spare key was a spare for a reason.   And it wasn’t because it worked.

Panic ensued for one as she approached a window in hopes of it being unlocked.  Struck down but not destroyed, an attempt was made to contact a family member to no avail.  After all, what are brothers for if not to answer the phone at 1 AM?

The path of least resistance (or so it seemed) was to suck it up and phone a locksmith.  Spirits were lifted as there was a promise of rescue in 15-20 minutes.  One hour and three follow-up phone calls later, we would get the tragic news that our locksmith had been involved in an accident and was en route to the emergency room.  Of course he was.  I’m sure that happens all the time.

In a stroke of brilliance and armed with an iPhone, a paperclip, knitting tools, and MacGyver-like skills courtesy of YouTube, efforts to pick the lock ensued.  I have two words to sum up that plan of action:  EPIC FAIL!

Another locksmith was dispatched to our location, and spirits lifted once again as our very own locksmith, who will loving be referred to as Juan Carlos, called to let us know he was on his way.  What joy!  However, it became evident during our conversation that Juan Carlos was not familiar with the Destin area, mainly because he was in Cuba!  Okay, it was actually Miami.  Same difference.

A third call was placed to a third locksmith.  His name was Jimmy.  He was not a dispatcher, but a real live locksmith.  He speaks English, isn’t in Cuba, and is originally from Birmingham.  We like Jimmy!  As we waited patiently for Jimmy to arrive, we sat in the car and sang.  Would I be pushing the envelope to liken the experience to Paul sitting in prison singing praises to God through his dire circumstances?  Probably so, but persecution is relative, so let’s go with it.  Ironically, our praise song was, “Your Grace is Enough.”  While I certainly do not disagree that God’s grace is sufficient, I do have to say that sometimes having a (working) key is good too.

Jimmy arrives on-site at approximately 2 AM.  Yes.  That’s right – 2 AM and begins to assess the situation like Sherlock Holmes.  He determines that the lock is a Titan lock, one not easily overtaken and which would require cat-like skills to conquer.  The question loomed in the air….will Jimmy be able to crack the kryptonite-like lock?  We literally prayed that he would.

2:14 AM – Robyn break dances in the hallway and an emergency restroom break is needed because let’s face it, we had to pee.  I’d like to give a big shout-out to 24-hour CVS pharmacies with clean restrooms.

Back at the ranch, Jimmy cracks open a can of Houdini, but it would take more than Houdini to crack this lock.  Perplexed, but not in despair, Jimmy takes it to the next level.  The presence of a drill denotes the seriousness and humor of the situation.  Drilling ensues and moments later at 3 AM, our feet walked across the threshold into our promised land.

I’m sure there are spiritual truths aplenty in this adventure, but to be honest, I’m too tired to think about them.  In the words of Scarlett O’Hara, “I can’t think about that right now.  If I do, I’ll go crazy.  I’ll think about that tomorrow…after all, tomorrow is another day.”

-N

Lessons in Navigation

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Let me begin by saying that I’m not big on road trips. Four hours is typically my limit. Anything over that and I get antsy and irritable. Last week, I had the somber task of attending a memorial service for a friend’s husband at Dudley Park in Athens, GA. I’ve been to Athens once before but I rode with someone very acquainted with the way.

As I was preparing for the trip, I didn’t ask anyone for directions. I trusted my navigation system (aka Prissy) to get me where I needed to go. Now, you should know that Prissy and I don’t get along much. She’s quite the task master. I want to throw her through the windshield when she repeats “calculating route” at the slightest deviation from her planned course. Let’s just say she has a hard time adapting to any inconvenience, such as when you need to go to the restroom or grab some sustenance while en route! Not only is Prissy a task master, but apparently her definition of “fastest route” is different than mine (and the rest of the world’s, for that matter). Despite her failings, she’s always gotten me where I needed to go, even if she takes me around the world to get there. Considering the route she led me on to Athens that would be an understatement.

Trusting that Prissy would get me to Athens, I confidently typed “Dudley Park” as my destination and embarked on the most frustrating journey that I can remember.

Things went well until I hit Atlanta. Of course, doesn’t everything go well until you are in Atlanta? Ah, Atlanta, you challenge me, but I will have to write about you another day.

I was rocking along singing with the music on my iPhone when I hit a dead stop at the I75/I85 junction. “So much for fastest route,” I said to myself (okay, maybe I said it aloud). Sitting at a standstill, I glanced impatiently at Prissy’s projected arrival time. Realizing at this point that I might not make it in time for the service, I internally started to panic. My mind began to debate whether Prissy did, in fact, know what she was doing.

In my panic, I phoned my friend who grew up in Athens. My trusted pal handed me the bad news: I wasn’t going to make it in time, and I wasn’t going in the right direction! My heart sank. Stupid, Prissy! I decided she was going to be sold at auction immediately upon my return.

Thankfully, my friend and I sorted out where I needed to go. She e-mailed me directions (praise God for the iPhone) and traffic started to move along. I was back in business. Relieved that I had solid directions and my car was actually moving in a forward direction, my heart began to lighten a bit. I started singing again even though I was going to be late for the service.

I’d love to tell you that it was smooth sailing from that point forward, but alas, that wasn’t what God had in mind.

The directions instructed me to take a road and follow signs to the University of Georgia. Along the road I was on, there were no signs for the University of Georgia or Athens. However, I was in a hurry (though I’m not sure why at this point, since I was already going to be at the very least 20 minutes late for the service), so I didn’t notice. It wasn’t until I began to pass landfills that I realized I probably needed to touch base with my friend once again to make sure I wasn’t lost. Guess what?! I was.

As I was talking to my guide, we began to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. But deep down inside, I wanted to cry. I became overwhelmed because I wasn’t going to be there for my friend who had been there for me when my daddy died and that I had shared every major life moment with for the last twenty-something years. I felt stupid for not asking for directions before I left. I felt like an idiot for not being able to follow the ones that I did have. I was afraid that when I did finally get to the service, my friend would be gone, thinking that I hadn’t been there for her. I was afraid if they were still there, they would look at me like I was crazy for being so late. I was overcome with the desire to go directly to where I was spending the night, hide there, lick my wounds and regroup. Not knowing if I should laugh or cry, I opted for the former since the latter would mess up my makeup and I had resolved to go, even if no one was there.

I am happy to say that I did finally make it to the park – an hour late! But I did do what I set out to do, which was to see my friend, hug her tight, tell her I love her, and cry with her. That was my mission, and praise God, it is what I accomplished.

So what are the lessons God taught me on this journey?

Lesson 1: God sends us out on missions. Sometimes they are exciting and fun, and other times they are somber tasks. When God gives you a mission, you have to resolve to see it through regardless of your feelings, set-backs, or mistakes along the way.

Lesson 2: Be careful who you trust when you need to get to where God is leading you. Friends, family and trusted advisors may be well-intentioned, but only God knows the way.

Lesson 3: At the very beginning of the journey always ask directions from someone who knows the way. God knows the right path to take – every time. He sees the big picture and can help us avoid things that will slow us down and frustrate us.

Lesson 4: Pay attention. Check in with God before you take a road that looks like it’s the right one. So many times, we think that because something looks good that it’s the road God wants us to go down. We get in a hurry and go too far down a road that God never intended us to be on.

Lesson 5: If you make a choice and something doesn’t seem quite right, before you take another step, check in with the Almighty. God’s shown me this year that He throws me breadcrumbs to let me know that He and I are on the same page. If I begin to notice He hasn’t given me a breadcrumb in a while, I stop and regroup. Just like I phoned a friend, we have the ability to phone a Friend who knows exactly how to get us back on course, no matter how many mistakes we’ve made.

Lesson 6: Enjoy the ride. Sing not only when things are going well, but sing when they aren’t.

Lesson 7: God’s timing to get us where we are going isn’t always what we think it should be. He teaches us through each mistake, and He tests our resolve through frustrations and delays.

Lesson 8: Don’t panic. God knows what He’s doing, even if your navigation system does not.

Lesson 9: Don’t give up until you get there!

Grateful for His leading,
-N

Light Post

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“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth.”  (Isaiah 42:16)

Back when I was doing triathlons, I would often be up before the sun to go on a run.  Running in the dark was scary.  I always worried about falling because of cracks or debris in the road – especially when the gum ball trees bloomed.  So, I bought one of my most valuable (and glamorous) training tools – a head lamp.

Head lamps are great levelers.  There is no one that can make a head lamp look cool.  Actually, I take that back.  There is one person that can make it look cool, and that is the person using it to illuminate a gaping hole in the head of a fellow runner who tripped over something they couldn’t see in the dark.  Yep.  That person makes a head lamp look cool.

I remember the first time I ran with my illuminated training partner.  I felt secure, and I noticed something interesting:  The light was of the most benefit when focused not on the horizon, but on the ground two or three feet in front of me.   When the light was focused on the horizon, my vision was distorted.  I couldn’t see clearly the path in front of me nor could I make out what lay ahead.  Everything was fuzzy.

Just like my head lamp, we are of the most benefit to Christ when we spend our time focused on what is directly in front of us.  When we try to see where He’s taking us or what’s around the corner, we can miss the things He wants us to see today, or have trouble discerning the short-term steps He’s calling us to take.  God wants us to trust Him moment-by-moment, step-by-step, day-by-day.

The Israelites spent more years than I’m sure they care to remember learning that very lesson.  Just as God led them with the pillar of fire at night, He leads us today, not with just a light, but with THE Light: Jesus.

God knows how dark our lives can seem at times.  But rest assured that if you have trusted Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you are never without the Light, for His Word says, “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

King David knew the secret to brightening up the dark places when he penned these words:  “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105).

If your world seems bleak or your hope seems lost, grab His Word and trust that He will light your path.