Discovering True Intimacy with Our Savior
This week, the kind folks over at the Valleydale Women’s Ministry blog ran a couple of my posts on fear, a topic of which I am intimately acquainted.
So, drop on by and check them out if you have the time (and even if you’re a boy).
I think you’ll find – in at least one of them – that God has a marvelous sense of humor.
It didn’t take completing a love language quiz to find out that I’m a “words of affirmation” girl, but it sure did make me feel affirmed seeing it in writing.
In strangely related news, I gave up the Facebook app on my phone. I know what you must be thinking, but it’s OK.
Seriously.
The sky has not fallen.
The world has not stopped spinning.
My friends have not unfriended me.
I still have Twitter.
But Facebook had to go for many reasons.
First, I realized that it is primarily a land whose commodity is time suckage. Where did that hour go? Oh, I spent it on Facebook watching endless videos of cats and dogs; staring at pictures of other peoples’ relatives; and fervently reading about what someone had for lunch.
Second, I noticed that I visited this strange land during lulls in my day for no reason other than because I could. It was instant pacification when a meeting became unriveting, a stop light interrupted my progress, or a commercial reared it’s ugly head.
Third, it started to feel a little too good when someone liked my post. Those little badges of affirmation (or lack thereof) following a status update made me smile (or un-smile) a little too often.
Which brings me to the point of this post.
Recently, I noticed that people were not liking some of my statuses. I couldn’t figure out why. I realize my status updates aren’t life changing, and I might not be as hilarious as I think I am, but my friends are usually pretty amazing in showing support (or perhaps pity) by liking at least some of them.
It didn’t bother me at first, but I was bumfuddled because some were globally like-able.
Like an Oswald Chambers quote. I mean, who doesn’t like some Oz?
Or a bible verse. At least one person has got to “like” Jesus, right?
Or a picture of Ellie. I mean, who can’t like a face like this?
But nothing.
Zero.
Nada.
Deafening silence on the likability scale.
For weeks.
The words of affirmation girl was crying out, and I didn’t like it. (See what I did there?) Inside she was screaming:
Like me!
Like me!
Like meeeee!
Then, a little truth showed up.
A co-worker was trying to find a link I’d posted on Facebook. No matter how many times she refreshed her screen she still couldn’t see the link on my page. I showed her on my phone where I had posted it, but when we compared views of my page, the link clearly was not there on her phone nor were many, many of my previous posts.
Turns out, anything I posted to Facebook via Twitter was hidden from sight because somehow a setting had changed from “Public” to view by “Only Me.”
I giggled as I heard God explain: Things aren’t always what they seem, Nikol.
I assumed people could see things, when in fact, they could not.
I mistook silence for rejection.
How often are we the same in our relationship with God?
When God is silent, we think He’s left us.
When prayers go seemingly unanswered, we assume He doesn’t care.
When progress is painfully slow, we think He’s not moving.
These are lies.
All of them.
God will never leave us even when we do not sense Him.
God is good even when things seem bad.
God is working even when we do not perceive Him.
Things aren’t always what they seem.
I have witnessed what in all likelihood could go down as the worst day to be single in the church.
Ever.
Oddly, the sermon was not on marriage (or I would’ve possibly seen it coming) but it was on taking a stand for Christ. At the response time of the service, the pastor – moved by the Holy Spirit – made available pastors at the front of the church to pray for four groups of people who wanted to take a stand for Christ:
business owners & leaders,
parents,
students,
and people who were fighting for a wayward child.
This, honestly, seemed quite well-intended and awesome until something incredibly awkward happened: almost every person in the church stood in front of one of these pastors except for two people groups – senior adults and single people. And at this church, that’s pretty much everyone but 20 people (or at least that is what it felt like while I was squirming in my seat).
The few of us remaining trickled out of the sanctuary while the married people, the people with families, their children, and business leaders were prayed for by church staff.
I quite literally was dazed and confused. I was so stunned, in fact, that it didn’t even occur to me to go to my small group afterwards. I walked straight to my car.
I don’t remember speaking to anyone.
I don’t remember being angry or mad.
I just remember feeling shame.
I’ve had months to think about this; months to cycle through every emotion possible; months to gain some objectivity about the situation, and I came to this conclusion:
I’m glad that it happened.
I’m glad that it happened because I am now more aware of senior adults. I had overlooked them, just as I, have been overlooked. I’ve taken for granted the wisdom of their years. I’ve walked passed them without acknowledging their value, not only as individuals, but to God’s kingdom.
And there is zero excuse for that.
Zero.
Y’all! We have to do better. We have to be able to minister to people that are not like ourselves. We are commanded to take care of the orphan and the widow.
Commanded.
We are NOT, however, commanded to exalt any people group above another.
I don’t want you to take my word for it, though. I want you to hear it from people who do this for a living. Below are two links to sermons.
The first sermon is by Steve DeWitt senior pastor at Bethel Church in Indiana. It’s entitled “The Bachelor Pastor.” It was his last sermon as…well….a bachelor. He keeps the mood light while at the same time pointing out amazing truths.
The second sermon is by David Platt pastor of The Church at Brook Hills in my hometown, Birmingham, AL. He shares with us how both marriage and singleness are a picture of the gospel. It is brilliant, truthful and will likely give you a new perspective no matter in which marital status you fall.
“The Bachelor Pastor: Premarital reflections on singleness, purity, and ministry” 08.18.2012 from Bethel Church on Vimeo.
Ten-ish years ago, I was lying on the floor in my bathroom praying that I would not wake-up. I didn’t want to kill myself, but I didn’t want to live.
In my moment of grief, a fleeting and odd thought went through my head: I must be really dangerous if the devil wants me dead.
I’ve thought about that statement a few times over the last couple of years, but the truth of it did not hit me until last week: The devil, indeed, wants me dead.
It came suddenly. Unexpectedly. Ferociously.
Only days before I had been playing in the spiritual surf; laughing and splashing around with my friends. Life was good, and everything seemed to be falling into place.
Then, out of nowhere, an unseen current grabbed hold of me and took me under. As soon as it hit me, I knew I was in trouble.
Serious trouble.
Further and further down I sank. Unable to breath. Unable to escape the grasp of the darkness.
The strength of the monster gripping me was remarkable. It’s determination astounding. I knew I was no match for it. I knew I couldn’t fight it on my own. I knew I needed help.
I could see the Light flickering overhead. Beams of Truth shot through the darkness just beyond my reach. I saw people peering into the water above me. Though their words were muffled and their faces blurred, I could make out what they were saying:
“Fight, Nikol. Fight!” But how can a paralyzed person fight?
“Believe, Nikol. Believe!” But belief wasn’t budging the grip.
“I’m so sorry this is happening” But sympathy wasn’t going to save me.
And while Satan did his best to kill me; God was using it to teach me a lesson I will not soon forget.
It is ridiculous to tell a drowning person to save themselves.
It is absurd to discuss what is happening – or how they got there -while someone is fighting for their life.
It is preposterous to worry about breaking a bone when someone needs a breath!
When Peter lost his faith while walking on the water, did Jesus watch him descend into the waves while yelling, “Believe, Peter! Believe?” Of course not! He reached out and saved him (Matthew 14:28-31).
When Jairus’ daughter was dead, did Jesus require her to believe? Don’t be ridiculous. A dead person can’t believe. But a fighting father can; and after throwing out the mourners and the doubters, Jesus grabbed her hand and restored her to life – not because of her faith – but because of his (Matthew 5:35-43).
And that is what it took to save me (this time around).
It took someone taking a stand and saying, “No! You cannot have her. She belongs to Jesus!” They couldn’t yell it from the shore where it was safe. They had to be in the water with me. They had to get up the courage to say, “I’m going in after her. I’ve seen enough.” They had to reach out and grab my hand.
Ultimately, it was Jesus who saved me. Ultimately it was His Name who made the darkness flee, but I often forget the order of things this side of Heaven: God uses people to accomplish His work. Jesus living inside of us motivates us to intervene on His behalf. Sometimes, often times, intervening requires prayer. But sometimes intervening requires action. Listen to James’ words:
What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say, “Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well”—but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless (James 2:14-17).
The purpose of our faith isn’t for us; it is for others. The battle wasn’t really about me. Satan thought it was. The battle was about us. The battle was to show me that we are all in this together, and sometimes that means we have to fight for someone who can’t. We can’t fight by standing at a distance. We fight by getting in the game. And we cannot back down.
Ever.
We cannot back down because the next time it could be us that needs saving. We cannot back down because that death – someone’s spiritual death – is the only death that can harm us.
I’m not sure what the future holds, but I am grateful today for the Light. I’m grateful for the warriors – bloodied and battered – who love me enough to fight for me. I’m grateful for the prayers that motivated someone to action. And I am grateful for the warriors who reminded me (once I safe), that I cannot quit. I have to see this through. Even when it doesn’t make sense.
There were tears.
Some from being scared,
Others from being embarrassed,
Perhaps a couple from being disappointed,
And maybe a few tears from the actual pain.
But otherwise, the little boy who had just wiped out on his bike during a triathlon was OK. He was understandably shaken and covered in some road rash as the by-standers gathered around him to make sure he was OK.
And he was….
that is…
…until he heard their encouragement to get back on his bike and finish the race.
At that point the tears turned into sobs.
“But you’ll regret that you didn’t finish,” someone said.
“Waaaaah!” cried the little boy.
“You can do it!” another remarked.
“Waaah Waahhh!” he cried again.
“Come on! Get back up and try again!” encouraged another.
“Waaah Waahhh! Waaaahhhhh!”
I’m not sure if the little boy actually climbed back on the bike and finished the race. Neither is my friend who recounted the story to me on a recent road trip.
And even though I wasn’t there, in my mind, I can see the people gathered around pulling him to his feet. I can see him sobbing as he wipes the gravel from his shins, and takes a deep breath as he slings a skinny knee over the seat. The sobs turn into sniffles, and as his cadence increases, so does his confidence. Before too long, the wind has dried the tears and his frown is replaced with a snaggle-toothed grin of finishing a race that he almost didn’t.
And, as I see him in my mind’s eye, I see myself.
I’ve cried a lot this year.
2012 will do that to you.
Sometimes I’ve cried because I was scared,
Other times it has been from being embarrassed.
I’ve cried a couple of times because I was disappointed.
And I’ve certainly cried a few times from the pain.
And when the tears come, I’m grateful for the by-standers in my life who huddle around me to make sure I’m OK. I’m grateful for those sweet friends – and sometimes even strangers – who know just what to say to encourage me to go on even if for a moment I want to lay on the pavement and sob.
Look around your world today. Is there someone near you that is struggling? Speak a word of encouragement to them. You never know. Your re-assuring words might be just what they need to dust themselves off and finish their race.
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
(1 Thessalonians 5:11)
I cringe every time I read the tag line of Kelly Minter’s bible study on Nehemiah: It took a heart that could break to repair a wall that was broken.
I mean, seriously. What were we thinking? Hasn’t 2012 been frustrating enough without adding a broken heart to the mix?
And so – in week one – I find my feathers already ruffled as we touched on the “power of prayer” by studying Nehemiah’s prayer life.
In response to hearing some troubling news about his kinsmen in Jerusalem, Nehemiah cried out to God “day and night” for four months asking God to do something.
I confess that I let out a sarcastic laugh when asked how his praying for this period of time encouraged me to keep praying for something I’ve prayed about for a long time.
A really sarcastic laugh.
Because honestly, it doesn’t encourage me.
In fact, it kind of frustrates me.
I mean, four months is a drop in the bucket compared to the length of time some of us have been praying for…
…healing
…a job
…a husband
….a broken marriage
…a prodigal son.
Decades fly by as desperate prayers go seemingly unnoticed and untouched. And the term “power of prayer” gets tossed around half-hazardly. And I’m wondering:
…do we really know what that means?
…do we really believe it?
…have we seen it?
The enigma of prayer will always elude me this side of Eden. On my darker days, I allow the tough questions to linger in my His presence:
Is it Your will?
Do You hear me?
Why do You delay?
How much longer?
Am I doing something wrong?
Am I praying for the wrong thing?
Do I not have enough faith?
Do I need more people to pray?
Nevertheless, I have shining and precious moments of clarity as I understand what C.S. Lewis meant by the words, “I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God- it changes me.”
What about you. Have you seen the power of prayer?
