Why not the shepherds?

The shepherds–have you ever wondered why God chose them to rush to the mangerside of the newborn Savior? Why they were the ones entrusted to spread the news?

Maybe they were swapping stories out there in the fields as they tended their sheep by starlight. Maybe their minds were drifting to their families snuggled up in warm beds. Either way, they were still watching, alert. And that’s why they were stunned to see the glory of the Lord.

Wolves? Sure. Thieves? Yah. But an angel? The glory filled them with “great fear,” the kind of fear of fallen man at the feet of a holy God. Maybe their wonder mixed with disbelief. “Can this really be happening? Am I dreaming?”

The angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

And then the sky was filled with angels who were praising God, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

The light faded and the shepherds looked at each other, dazzled. Maybe they asked each other: “Did you just see what I saw?”

But soon: “Let’s go check out what God told us!” And “with haste” they clattered into town. (Did the sheep follow them? I wonder. And what a ruckus they would have caused at the feet of their newborn Savior!)

But their journey didn’t stop at the stable. After worshiping Jesus, they went out and “made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child.”

The initial fear out there in the fields was not a paralyzing fear–not the kind that mutes tongues to silently deny our Savior. Their fear opened the door for faith.

Sometimes I contemplate the shepherds, the humble set of messengers they were, and why God chose them to “make known the saying.” I mean, why not more wisemen or least the mayor of Bethlehem? I always thought that God was making a statement by having His birth announced by a herd of scruffy shepherds. Maybe He was.

But today I’m wondering, “Why not the shepherds? Why do we assume the sidelined of society were less qualified?”

Sharing the news of Jesus isn’t the work of an elite few, those with charisma, power, or 5 million Facebook followers. It’s also for the shepherds–for me, for you. Our testimonies are neither more nor less valuable because, although we messengers have a role to play, the message has never been about the messenger, but about the Message Himself.

(Luke 2:8-20)

Photo by Pawan Sharma on Unsplash

In its season

It was 3 a.m. in a silent house. (Too many of my posts start similarly, but the best thoughts often come in the middle of the night when the house is quiet and my schedule is somewhere out of reach in the dark.)

There was nothing to do except try to fall back asleep. But trying was like sweeping up a pile of ants: as soon as I gathered my thoughts, they ran every which way until I started to panic because I knew I needed sleep to face tomorrow’s to-do list.

So when fretting, crying, and praying didn’t put me back to sleep, I decided to meditate. This verse came to mind:

“but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.”

I was particularly worn that night. Not just ragged around the edges but frayed down deep. It had started with that all-too-familiar mental fog that I had thought was gone for good. Little by little, the day had unraveled.

Staring into the dark, I tried to recall the rest of the Psalm 1 passage:

“[The righteous] is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season...”

I never did finish the chapter. I got stuck on this: Am I a tree that yields its fruit in its season?

The tree is planted by the stream of life-giving water, but it does not produce fruit without ceasing. There are seasons of pruning and seasons of rest. Why do I think I can skip those seasons and yield fruit all year round, always productive, always at the top of my game?

Somewhere, in the middle of wondering what the variety of seasons looked like in everyday life, I fell asleep.

Photo by Brian Jimenez on Unsplash

Obeying when it doesn’t make sense

Obeying when it doesn’t make sense is a struggle for me. Is it for you too?

In chapter 1 of Jesus the King: Understanding the Life and Death of the Son of God, Timothy Keller writes:

God created us to orbit around him, to center our lives on him. When God says, “Don’t eat, or you’ll die,” what is our first response? “Why?” But God doesn’t explain; if you obeyed God because you understood what he was doing and how it would benefit you, then you’d actually be stationary. You’d be saying, “Okay, it makes sense. I understand why I should obey and shouldn’t eat from that tree; yes, of course.” God would be a means to an end, not an end in himself.
God was saying, “Because you love me, don’t eat from the tree–just because I say so. Just to be in relationship with me. Obey me about the tree, and you will live” (p. 12).

Clearly, God and reason aren’t mutually exclusive. God gave us common sense, after all. Yet, if that’s what we are orbiting around, it becomes our god. And why wouldn’t our jealous God want to strip that away from us for a time?

All of this to say that that’s what I want to be: reasonable… but orbiting around Him rather than reason. What about you?

Photo by Justin Dickey on Unsplash

The woman in the mirror

Who is that woman in the mirror staring back at me?

Glazed eyes from sorting through language notes all day. Almost in tears from how much there is still to learn and how does she start? Really start?

But enough of this not starting! Enough of unfinished projects in a burial heap in the cabinet! Because from now on, there won’t be projects to finish but a process to journey.

That’s what the woman in the mirror decided just now. Because it’s not all about what she doesn’t know, but also about what she does know.

And she knows that studying two languages each week is hard and doesn’t always fit into her schedule. But she also knows that language learning is an act of worship because it is what God has called her to do.

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
(Col. 3:17)

Stop and wonder

Psalm 23 is one of those familiar Psalms that I tend to glaze over because I know it by heart. I don’t stop and see or wonder at the depths. However, recently, I got stuck on verse 6: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…”

I pictured myself following God and goodness and mercy trailing along behind like an obedient but somewhat distracted dog. (Note: “mercy” as it appears here actually means “steadfast, unfailing, and unconditional love.”)

But “follow” is a much stronger word than “trailing.” It connotes pursuing relentlessly, running after, or tracking. In short, God’s goodness and steadfast love aren’t going to let us go. Not today or any day.

“All the days of my life,” David writes with unwavering confidence in God’s attributes. He had his days in lockdown too, hiding in caves, fearing for his life. Outside of lockdown, he had marriage problems, disobedient children, years of war, etc. Yet, he says that he knows God’s goodness and steadfast love are in those days too.

My roommate and I recently read Unseen by Sara Hagerty. Chapter 6 is titled, “Invitation to Wonder: Training Our Eyes to See God’s Beauty.”

“… [I]t’s harder… to see God’s beauty,” Hagerty writes. “… in the thousands of minutes in the middle of my days that don’t seem worthy of photographing or scrapbooking or sharing with others. He tells us in His Word that His glory is ever available, and it’s tucked inside every day. Every single one” (p. 107).

All the days of my life.

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries.
“Aurora Leigh” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (as quoted in Unseen p. 112)

God’s wonder–His goodness and steadfast love–are in each of our days. “Our flitting eyes… need to be trained to see them. They need to be trained to see the face of Jesus” (p. 118).

Stop and see.

Stop and wonder.

Photo by David McLenachan on Unsplash

Single and overseas- Part 2

This is a continuation from Part 1. If you haven’t read that part yet, please do before starting here.

I’m writing about singleness. However, I don’t particularly like to be singled out (pun intended) for my marital status, either for the good or the bad. Calling attention to singleness in juxtaposition to marriage breaks my internal concept of community. Not that we can’t intentionally fellowship with those of the same marital status, but when we start “us”ing and “them”ing, we lose the value of others’ perspectives.

Yes, I’m single and singleness, like any other status in life, has pros and cons. So could we talk about the pros and cons as if we’re talking about life rather than opposite sides? (Note to self!)

Despite the trials of any marital status, marriage and singleness each come with a healthy dose of blessing. (Other statuses come with blessings too, but another day, another time, another blogger.)

We should never resent each other for enjoying our blessings.

I have been there: that twinge of resentment while watching a husband and wife share a look with layers that no one else understands. Loneliness crashes over me as I momentarily want–no, crave–that same level of companionship.

If I resent others their blessings, I shouldn’t freely enjoy my own blessings. If I resent the mother who tucks in her footie-pajama-ed children with Goodnight, Moon and then crawls into bed next to her warm husband, then neither should I enjoy my uninterrupted nights of sleep or the freedom to read late into the night without the light bothering anyone. Neither should I enjoy the spur of the moment trip to who-knows-where without packing diapers, changes of miniature clothing, and a pack-and-play. Neither should I enjoy… Well, you get the point. Go make your own list.

Instead of resentment, I want enjoyment of the blessings of my today calling. And one step further: I want to encourage others to enjoy their blessings, regardless of their marital status.

The truth is that it’s hard to step into someone else’s perspective. We will probably never quite “get” each other unless we’ve been there. And even then…

Yes, all of us want to be known and understood, but I wonder, in those times we don’t understand, if extended grace can be just as beautiful as empathy.

Among wolves

Children trickled home from school, their voices wafting up three stories to where I had curled up in my bed, attempting to steal a half hour nap. But more than to sleep, I curled up to drown out the dizzying voices in my head.

Advice too helpful.

Less invasive, but still overwhelming suggestions.

Pressure from friends to fill their emotional needs.

Dramatic stories that sucked me in (even kicking and screaming).

Stop! I buried my face in my pillow with the sting of fresh tears.

“The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.” (Jn. 10:3) We had just read that verse at Thursday night prayer meeting.

“Jesus, where is your voice?!” I gasped.

The voices dispersed. There was silence. “When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.” (Jn. 10:4)

Every day, someone invites me into their story. Sometimes it’s angry drama, sometimes it’s deep hurt or deep joy, sometimes it’s just a friend who cares.

Jesus says, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (Jn. 10:10b). What is abundant life? I know what it is not, but that isn’t helpful.

Abundant life is the life that gives life life. It is Jesus Himself (Col. 3:4).

And abundant life is ours even when we are sent out as sheep among wolves (Matt. 10:16). Why? Because our Good Shepherd will not leave us or forsake us (Deut. 31:6). He is with us, God with us, Immanuel, even among the wolves.

“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me” (Jn. 10:14).

Following the voice of my Shepherd doesn’t make me deaf to the other voices. I may follow advice and reach out to the hurting, but I won’t be enslaved as long as I follow Him in and out of the fold.

Photo by Steven Lasry on Unsplash

No one understands me!

Do you ever feel misunderstood? Like the big, bad world is judging you by circumstance with no desire to understand your motive?

The truth is, we can never understand each other. Not fully. We have tools, like personality tests, that, on their best days, help us offer grace when we don’t understand each other. Living together helps too. But we just don’t quite get each other. Even those people who confidently nod and give you a smug smile when you do something predictable.

You’re not the only one who feels misunderstood. Ask God about that. He even had His people write about it in the Psalms and later in Romans.

“The LORD looks down from heaven on the children of man, to see if there are any who understand, who seek after God. They have all turned aside; together they have become corrupt; there is none who does good, not even one.”
(Ps. 14:2-3.)

“…as it is written: ‘None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God.”
(Romans 3:10-11)

We humans, in our fallen brokenness cannot fully fathom a holy God. So, if anyone is allowed to complain about being misunderstood, it is God.

Because, guess what else. You are understood. By the One who is least understood. He has searched and known you and discerned your thoughts from afar. He is acquainted with all of your ways. You cannot speak without Him knowing exactly what you will say. (Ps. 139:1-4)

You are understood. May that knowledge be too wonderful to wrap your mind around! (Ps. 139:6)

Are you a people-pleaser?- Part 2

Last week, I wrote about my struggle with people-pleasing. And I’m still learning how to deal with this fear of man. (By waiting a week, I was hoping to be so much wiser!)

On my journey, I’m learning how much my thought life affects my everyday life. My thoughts aren’t as private as I think. Jesus was right, of course, when He taught that sin begins on the inside.

I know how critical and dark thoughts can be because I think them all too often. But when others think those thoughts about me, I am panic-stricken. Could I be the object of disdain rather than admiration or affection?

My negative thought patterns subtly place others as the wrong doers and me as the victim. (As if!)

How do I get out of this negative rut? Pep talks? Surrounding myself with positive friends? Hardly.

By asking God to redeem my thought life.

Notice I said “redeem” rather than “distract.” When I catch myself slipping into my “nobody loves me, everybody hates me” rut, I confess and surrender that thought. But rather than leave my mind as a gaping hole (which is impossible for women, by the way), I work to fill that hole with worthy thoughts and praise.

One day, I specifically asked God to help me take every thought captive. While dwelling on a wrong thought, I suddenly jabbed my hip into a doorknob (and Spanish doorknobs are sharp!). In pain, I managed to laugh and thank God for the not-so-gentle reminder. Other days, I, in essence, tell God to go away and leave me alone to think my negative thoughts.

Sometimes, we write off negativity as discernment. But they’re not the same. Negativity eats at your soul. Discernment can see and analyze the negative aspects of a situation without being controlled by them.

When your thought life is redeemed, you can be discerning without being negative. People may still sling unrealistic expectations at you or think mean things about you, but when you don’t dwell on it, it can’t control you.

See, whether or not someone means offense in a comment, you can leave it. You can walk away because when you do, that comment–whether intentional or unintentional–is between that person and God. When you take offense, suddenly the the relationship is much more complicated. Suddenly, the comment is between them and God, you and them, and you and God. And that takes a lot of clarification, repentance, and forgiveness.

But when you re-calibrate your focus– take it off of whoever you are allowing to control you, and place it on God– your world begins to bloom. You can hear advice without letting it dictate each decision. You can hear criticism without being in the depths of despair. You can love those who think little of you, even if their opinion never changes. And you can hear praise without feeling like it is watering the thirsty soil of your starving soul. Affirmation becomes a blessing rather than a necessity.

And you– I should say “we”– can be content in our identity in Christ rather than our identity in the eyes of others.

Are you a people-pleaser?- Part 1

I was sweating under my blanket and it wasn’t because of the leftover summer heat.

How could I have made the situation different? How could I have walked away without leaving a bad taste in their mouths? What should have I done to make them like me?

The night hours ticked away as I fought a bloody battle with my thoughts.

If you haven’t caught on by now: I have an overwhelming fear of man. I want people to love me and delight in me. I want to be the desired friend, the confidant, the one to diffuse tension in a situation.

But that night, my heart was pounding so hard that I could feel the bed shaking along with it. And all because of a negative reaction that felt like a personal attack.

More hours passed before I was able to stop “problem-solving” and surrender. My heart, now guarded by God’s peace, relaxed until I could no longer feel the oppressive beating. And I fell asleep.

Not every wave of people-pleasing is like this for me. Sometimes, I feel invincible to others’ opinions because I’m too tired or too stubborn to bend anymore. Other times, I never surrender and spend days or weeks in agony, enslaved to another’s opinion and trying to think up ways to wriggle myself back into their good graces.

Can you identify? Are you a people-pleaser too?

I don’t have a once-and-done solution for us. Or even five easy steps to follow.

Recently, in talking with a friend, I realized that this area of my life is slowly changing. It may always be a struggle for me, but by God’s grace, it will no longer be my prison.

Next week, I’ll tell you a bit of my ongoing journey. And maybe you can tell me a little of yours too.