Keep Your Eye on the Prize

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2 NIV).

My twelve-year-old petite daughter Holly was the gutsy goalie for her select soccer team. During one game, a player from the other team had a break away and ran with the ball at my daughter full speed. Holly ran out of the goalie box and threw herself on the ball just as the girl pulled back her foot to boot the ball. The player from the other team, not being able to stop in time, ran over the top of Holly using Holly’s leg as a stepstool. Blue, black and red painted her leg as a nasty bruise the size of a foot print formed.

It’s not human nature to throw yourself into a crash. When something flies towards our eyes, we blink. When someone sneezes near us, we turn the other way. When a car crosses the center line on a highway, we slow down and move over. Protecting ourselves is how we stay alive. It’s natural. It’s instinctive but it’s not always in line with God’s plan. Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. (Luke 10:3 NIV) (I’m not advocating dangerous living just dangerous loving.) 

So how does a goalie, like my daughter, intentionally throw herself into a collision?

By keeping her eye on the ball!

Likewise, we can throw ourselves into situations God calls us into by keeping our eyes on Him. Paul says in 2 Timothy 4:7-8 says, I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

Paul, who was thrown into imprisoned, beaten, and shipwrecked, wasn’t worried about the pain that might come his way. He threw himself heartily into every situation God called him.

The more we try to protect ourselves the more we can’t play the game of life. Imagine a bubble-wrapped goalie trying to move fast enough to capture a ball. It’s not going to happen.

When I am hurt by friends I bubble wrap myself in quietness, and distance.  When too many friends move away, when I know I’ll never see an aging friend again, I momentarily want to remove myself from the pain of life. But God instructs us to love, keep our eyes on the prize, and yes to take off the bubble wrap.

So just like my daughter dives for a ball with little concern for her safety, we must throw ourselves into God’s call of love with our eyes only on the prize. 

A Pack of Lies

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32)

When I was nine, Sister Mary Edwards stood in front of my small Catholic classroom and threatened that if anyone cursed me that was the devils invitation to take over my body. A nun said it. She was a representative of God therefore this was the truth.

For months I lay awake at night worried that Dave K. had cursed me, without me knowing, and the devil, having his invite, had already packed the U-Haul and was on his way. 

Recently, I completed a week long study about truth and realized that although I don’t have a problem with lying, I do have a huge problem with the truth. It’s not an issue with what comes out of my mouth, it’s an issue with what I allow to go into my heart and soul and become my foundation. I have a problem accepting lies as the truth.

I was a gullible child so in addition to accepting what the nun said as truth the list continues:

A couple of boys made fun of me tirelessly in junior high. Making references to my unattractiveness and tall skinny height. Their truth, that I was not beautiful, became my truth. 

One day my grandfather said, “Your sister gets more presents than you because she’s friendlier.” I heard his words, translated it into your sister is more loveable, and bronzed his saying in my heart.

When I was in college I experimented with hallucinogenic. During a bad “trip” I experienced the universe as empty and meaningless. I felt it therefore it was truth.

I took all these truths deep into my self and laid them down near my foundation. Though I struggled with them, I never completely rooted them out. 

I believed Sister Mary Edwards that the devil was powerful.

I believed two thirteen year old boys telling me I was ugly.

I believed my grandfather that I was less lovable,

And during hard days I believed my feeling that the universe was empty.

Recently while doing some guided imagery, my therapist asked me to imagine Jesus in the scene with Sister Mary Edwards. Seeing Jesus at the front of the class standing next to the nun I saw the anger on His face. It was then I realized how many lies I had accepted as truth.

The truth is there is nothing to fear including the devil. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. (Isaiah 41:10)

The truth is God thinks I’m beautiful.  He has made everything beautiful in its time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11) 

The truth is I am precious and lovable. For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. (Psalm 139:13-14)

The truth is God created this abundant universe. I made the earth and created man on it; it was my hands that stretched out the heavens, and I commanded all their host. (Isaiah 45:12.)

These truths are replacing the old lies at my foundation.

What pack of lies have you accepted as truth? Whatever they are, vow to never again believe the opinions of others, or your feelings, over the truth given to you by God, because the truth does set you free!!

A Purpose Driven Game

At the age of seven, my grandmother took me to the rolling green hills of our local golf course for my first lesson. With an adult sized-club in hand, one white dimpled ball, I knew I was supposed to hit the ball with the club. And so I did. As quickly as I could, I hit the ball, ran the ten yards to where it lay, hit it again, ran, hit, and ran, until I was the first one to sink the ball in the hole. I yelled “I won,” but of course being the first one with their ball in the hole is not the game of golf.

As a seven-year-old I was sure the objective of any game was to be faster than anyone else on the field. Tag worked that way, as well as the impromptu bike races down our street. Being first was my automatic go-to-purpose for any competition.

As a teenager I was sure popularity and looks were the purpose of my life game. When I grew a bit, a good job and success seemed the driving force. Over the years my set of automatic go-to-purposes often conflict with the real God-prescribed purpose. I know my purpose as prescribed by God: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength . . .Love your neighbor as yourself. (NIV Mark 12:30,31)

Even though I believe this truth and say it is the guiding principal of my life, I still often fall back into my automatic go-to-purposes. The current goal for my days seems to be how much I can get done. A happy day = red lines scratched off my to–do list. I say this because when I make decisions about what I’m doing each day, it has less to do with loving God and people and more to do with crossing tasks off my precious list. I fall back into playing a game that doesn’t get me anywhere, similar to hitting a dimpled ball and running across the golf course didn’t secure me a win.

Why do I do this? Because it’s hard to live my purpose. It’s hard to live a heart-open-God-purposed life. It feels sweet by vulnerable, peaceful yet unsteady, safe but risky.

One night while working on my writing my husband snuck up on me and kissed me gently. It felt sweet and I felt squishy in side. I felt loved and at the same time vulnerable. I resisted stopping my work, and turning the love, and kept on working. Why? Because it seems easier to live in a way that can be counted and measured, like money and check lists. With my almost holy to-do lists my results can always be measured. With loving others and God the results are unmeasurable, often unknown, and often don’t feel like a win.

Awareness of this problem is the first and crucial step. Realizing the choices we make, and the unconscious objectives bolstering them up, helps us to make more conscious choices based on the God’s purpose of life. I think of Mary, one of Jesus’s friends, sitting at Jesus’s feet and Martha her sister running around the house trying to get a meal on the table. When Martha gets upset at Mary for sitting around doing nothing Jesus corrects her. He says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41,42)

We as Christians make a commitment to a life style that is unmeasurable by world standards. We cannot check things off a list each day, we cannot measure our success by the dollars in our savings, or the number of invites to socialize each week. We have made a commitment to play the game of life by God’s rules.

While I’m not an avid golfer even today, I do realize the opportunity I missed that first day on the course by not playing the game the way it was intended to be played. Instead of frantically running I might have had a relaxing summer day walking the lush rolling hills of Iowa with my grandmother, chatting and laughing as we went. Someday, when I’m older and grayer I don’t want to look back and have the same sense of missed opportunity about my life.  

His Peace

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4: 6-7 NIV)

As the jet roared down the runway, I gripped the blue vinyl armrest of my airplane seat and struggled to control my breathing. When the airplane prepared to soar, my panic attack did the same. The words, “I can’t do it,” repeated over-and-over in my mind as I tried to calm my shaking body. For the next two hours, I fought the hand-sweating, mind-electrifying panic second-by-second. At the end of the flight, I walked down the hangar feeling limp, depressed, and exhausted. How could I survive a flight again?

A year later, as soon as I booked the same flight home, I dreaded it. I felt incapable of handling the mental pressure without cracking. The problem was, I could keep the panic at bay for a few minutes, but the flight was two and one-half hours long. If only I could focus on God the whole time. After all, God says, “Fear Not.” Praying brought me peace, but panic constantly wormed its way into my mind and destroyed my peace.

The night before we left, in the middle of my imagining the worst airplane flight ever, and a desperate prayer for help, God focused a spot light on my delirious thinking. I was worried and anxious because I didn’t think I could focus on God. It was still all about me and my strength, my focus, my ability. God told me to rely on Him for my food, my children’s well being, and yes even my faith and my ability to concentrate on Him. “Yes, Dear God, keep my mind on You. You know I can’t do it, but You can.”

I’d like to say that after I prayed all the fear evaporated instantly, but even Abraham waited for his prayer to be answered. Flight day, the anticipation was miserable. I walked down the tin can tunnels, through the doors, past seat after seat of people packed in like sardines. Would God come through for me? I quickly said a prayer that mimicked the father who brought his demon possessed son to Jesus, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24 NIV) We taxied to our take off; the engine roared; we raced down the track. The airplane lifted and the wheels pulled up. Where were the racing thoughts, the closed in feelings, the panic? It had vanished. In their place, for the whole two and one-half hours, God kept me focused on Him.

That day God taught me to rely on Him for everything, even my faith in him.

And that day, God replaced my armrest-gripping, claustrophobic panic with His dependable glorious Peace.

Dear God, help me to rely on You for everything, even my faith and focus.

The Longboard Prayer

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Philippians 4:6-7 The Message)

A fishing trip turned bad when my son Ben called home one night to report his and a friend’s longboard had been stolen. For those of you who haven’t been around teens lately, a longboard is a stretched out skateboard, with a matching extended number of digits on the price tag.  Longboards are also easily identifiable. My son’s has a bright blue background with an artist rendition of an Indian chief on its underbelly.

Grabbing my keys and heading out, I drove to the scene of the crime and listened to the boy’s description of their earlier unfolding drama.

“We were fishing and our boards were under the bridge,” my son said. “We saw three high schoolers running away from us carrying our boards.”

“It was one guy and two girls in short shorts. One girl wore a purple hat,” his friend added.

As the boys waited for the police to arrive, I felt certain that whoever stole the boards lived in the only nearby neighborhood. After all, teens are lazy, and on foot wouldn’t venture very far away from home. I decided to drive that neighborhood.

I prayed as I went, “Dear God, help us find these board if it’s your will.”

Up and down each street I drove praying and asking people if they’d seen kids on longboard. No one had. I drove around for about ten minutes and then my cell phone rang.

“Mom the police are here. Come back,” Ben said.

“I’ll try but I’m a little turned around.” Our streets in this part of Texas are not laid out in a grid and I wasn’t sure which way was back.

Making a couple of turn, trying to get going the right direction, I rounded a corner and my eyes landed on two girls up ahead with short shorts casually strolling down the left-hand sidewalk.

One girl held a longboard. A girl with a purple hat!

Feeling like a detective on a crime show, I let up on the gas. There cradled against her body was my son’s Indian chief longboard.

Blood and clarity pumped through my body as I quickly pulled over and jumped out of the car. I strode across the street never taking my eyes off the girl in the purple hat. Oblivious for a second to the crazed mom stalking her, she left the sidewalk and headed for a nearby house.

Coming up to her quickly, she saw me and instantly put the board on the ground.

“That’s my son’s longboard,” I said forcefully now about 5 feet from her.

She was silent.

“You stole it,” I added.

Nothing.

“Where’s the other one?” I demanded finally looking around at the other girl and a boy who had immerged from the house.

“I don’t know,” said the boy.

“I’m calling the cops,” I warned pulling my phone out of my pocket and beginning to dial.

“I think it’s inside,” said the boy.

“Go get it,” I said.

The boy went inside and came out with the other board. 

There were no words from them just stunned silence as I gave them a lecture and then strode back to the car, boards in hand, amazed at how God placed me in exactly the right place at the right time.

Later telling the story to a friend of how God helped me find my son’s board he asked, “Why would God care if Ben got his longboard back?” I admit it does seem weird sometimes what God chooses to intervene in and what he doesn’t. 

But to me it proves that God cares about the small parts of our lives as well as the big. My answer back was, “I don’t know God’s purpose:

It may have been a faith building mission for all involved.

It may have been a “straighten up” mission for the culprits. Quite possibly these teens needed to be scared out of bad behavior by a wild-eyed mother.

It may also be a story that circulates throughout the middle school, enough drama to be a great story that can plant seeds of faith wherever it lands.

And maybe it’s because God really cares about two teens and their good clean fun.”

But one thing I am sure of is God had a purpose and He cares about the little, and the big, and He wants us to pray about absolutely everything even a bright blue longboard with an artist rendition of an Indian chief on its belly!

Seven Thousand Feet Down

As we snake around the mountain roads, I lean to the inside. First twisting right, then left, all that separates us from rolling head-over-hills down the cliff is a piece of metal knee high. I forgot I was afraid of heights when I booked this trip to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado.  Arriving at our destination 7,000 feet above sea level, we hike along a path dug out of the rock to the pueblo cliff dwellings. My heart beats harder than from the exertion and my legs threaten to freeze at a moments notice. I would have been the weak link in this 800 year old neighborhood at 100 Cliff Palace.

Back at our room for the night in the national park, we are granted a room with a view. Everyone else would love it but as I try to sleep, with the howling wind, the image of this lodge bolted into the cliff feeds my anxiety. I wonder if I will sleep at all. What ensues is a struggle between light and darkness in the pitch black stormy night on a cliff. I wrestle with my fearful thoughts for two hours while the rest of my family snores away.

I focus on the fear I don’t want to have.

I focus on the worry of being awake all night.

I focus on maintaining control and not letting the anxiety get the best of me.

It’s hard for me to put myself totally in God’s arms so I struggle against darkness for two hours.  Winning than losing and over again.

Around midnight I feel overwhelmed by the anxiety and pray for help.

Something changes, the battle is transformed, God takes charge and brings to mind what I’m thankful for. He changes my focus.

Lying in bed, I thank God for my husband, and children.

I thank God for my parents and sibling.

My muscles relax, terror loses it grip, and somehow I fall asleep free from anxiety. I wake up well rested and a bit wiser on a couple of fronts.

·         I realize that I am unable to fight any of my battles, even a war with fear, except with His help. 1 Peter 5:7 says cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (NIV) Remarkably, I can’t do even this without God’s help.      

·         I also realize Biblical instructions can be taken to heart specifically. For example in Philippians 4:6 it says to not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  When I read this scripture, key words jump out at me: anxious, prayer, and thanksgiving. These are specific instructions. Anxiety is lessened when we pray and are thankful. It is a part of our nature that when we engage in a positive emotion, such as thankfulness or love, the negative emotions of fear lessen. 

This truth is continued in Philippians 4:8:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (NIV) We are in a battle between lightness and dark. By focusing on the dark the dark wins.

Prayer and a positive focus, these are God’s instructions for keeping negative emotions at bay whether we are worried about our children’s future, wondering how we can bear the pain, or are struggling with a fear of heights at seven thousand feet.

Dad I’d Like you to Meet my God

My dad died in October. Though I tried I didn’t make it back to see him in time. He took his last breath as my plane landed in Minneapolis with 3 ½ hours of driving still ahead of me. Frankly, I was mad about not making it to his death bed. Surely God could have arranged the whole situation a little better, but then I realized in fact he had.

You see my dad was an atheist. The reason I wanted to make it was to share my faith with him. When he took his last breath before I arrived, I started looking back. I realized I had already miraculously shared God with my father. 

It began a year earlier. While working on my new book Faith Marker Journey, I had recorded one of the many ways God had saved me.  Because of this process of writing it down, one day when I was having a phone conversation with my father, our discussion took a spiritual turn. The topic: the ordinarily forbidden subject of religion. Consistently when my dad talked about being atheist or how clearly false some beliefs were, I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to get into an argument about religion since our relationship seemed so fragile and arguing with a college professor seemed pointless.

This time the conversation started with ISIS and how fundamentalist religious group do atrocious things in the name of their faith. It went quickly to Christianity and the Crusades and then to how the story of Jesus was clearly made up because there wasn’t agreement between the gospels. Usually I would just listen but this time my story, the story I had written down, popped into my head, so I shared.  

I said that most people have a firm belief in God not because of what they read but because of what they experience. People believe in God because of their own very real personal God experiences.

“For example,” I said, “I have struggled with depression for much of my life.  Each time it came on, I’d feel this sinking sensation start in my heart. The feeling would build until I knew my heart would burst. The emotional pain was so intense and so physical, I always wondered if I would survive.”

“Then one night as I lay in bed with my husband beside me, I felt the sinking feeling again.  My first reaction was fear. I tightening my muscles. Pointlessly I tried to fight it. Then something changed. Acceptance flooded my heart as through my closed eyes an extremely bright light glared. There in the center was an image of Jesus. Being on the verge of depression suddenly changed to a feeling of bliss and euphoria.  Jesus intervened in my depression and gave me joy instead.”

After I finished my story, my father wondered out loud, “if we knew more about psychology we might be able to explain it a different way.”  But he stopped arguing, he couldn’t really disprove something I experienced and he knew that really the opposite was true. He knew that in fact our brains tend to go down the same path. We talked more but at the end of the hour long conversation, he said he really enjoyed our talk. Although he still didn’t agree, I think because of my story, he saw religion as not about some dogma out there but as personal relationships people have with God.

As I looked back on this I realized God knew everything that was going to transpire with my father long before it happened. He knew my father was going to be diagnosed with melanoma. He knew my father would quickly die. He knew I wasn’t going to make it back to see him. Finally, he knew I needed to share one of my faith stories on that normal day six months before any of the other drama unfolded. He knew what my father needed to find God!

Driving with my husband, after the sad call about my father, my husband suddenly began to sing a song that popped inexplicable into his head. I’d heard the song many time before but never in the same way. “Amazing Grace how sweet the sound.” I began to sing with him. “That saved a wretch like me.”

 “I once was lost.” I slowed as the words seem to speak directly to my heart, “but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.” As the word "see" tumbled out of my mouth, the tears swelled in my eyes. I knew God was assuring me. My father, who once was lost, had been found!

“He made it!” I said to my husband and I praised God that I knew it was true!