Whatcha Gonna Do

I haven’t written in so long simply because I didn’t want to. It’s been too difficult... a jumbled mess with strings of words that just don’t fit together to make anything coherent. It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it’s my life right now.

It’s just a very strange season in my life right now.

Up
Down
All around
Walking in the dark
Finding my way through
As if under a blindfold
I reach for familiar but feel nothing
Back
Forth
Stop and go
Wishing for a light
A glimpse of golden beams
Dancing on the horizon
As if under a blindfold
I reach for familiar but feel nothing
Blink
Blink
Eyes wide open
Eyes wide shut
No difference does it make
There is nothing to see
Nothing to feel
Cold
Black
Empty.

Lost in the Familiar

Funny story:  I actually got lost on the way to work the other morning.  I know, weird.  It all started due to a conversation with a friend who was telling me there may be a more direct route for me to get to work in the morning.  So, naturally, I decided to try the new route.  

Well don’t you know I missed a piece of the directions, the bit where I should have stayed straight and not merged left.  I’m not sure how far I drove, but as I drove, I quickly realized that it wasn’t correct.  I also quickly assessed that I should not pull over or stop to ask for directions.  So I kept on driving, determined to find something familiar.  Hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel, I was set.  As the scenery past by, I grew increasingly aware that I was not where I needed to be.  Compliment the awareness of being lost with the dense fog; I couldn’t see the city- which is typically my guide.  Thankfully, I finally spotted the sign for a familiar road, turned in the direction I thought I needed to go, and made my safely back around the world to get to work.

This morning, as I sat outside on the deck at dawn—a slight breeze blowing around me, the sun just starting to think about rising, I started laughing.  My story is funny in typical Melissa fashion.  But it occurred to me that it is common in my life. 

I know the directions, I know how to get from point A to point B AND I can follow directions—despite what the preceding story says.  But how often do I get turned around and refuse to stop?  Now sometimes it just isn’t safe to stop; sometimes it makes sense to keep driving until you see something familiar.  But when we get lost in the familiar- a place that you know and know well, what then?

Those thoughts led me down a trail and a thought of “Lost in the familiar”.    I think that sums up the way I have felt at times in my life.   My circumstances, environment, situation—all are familiar.   Those things don’t cause me alarm or discomfort.  But when I get lost in those familiar places, what then? 

And in our confusion, we set our minds so tightly to not stopping for directions, not regrouping, not refocusing—surely something familiar will come along.  We grip the wheel as tight as we can and we think our sheer determination will get us to where we need to be even though we are lost.  I don’t think determination is really what drives us.   It benefits us; it can be a positive and useful tool.  But what happens when our determination leads us so far off the path that we have no idea where we are? 

I do think there are times in life when we need to stay focused, keep our hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel and use that determination to our benefit.  I think there are times when you can’t see where you’re going and the storms are raging all around and you if you just stay the course, you’ll get where you’re going.

What about getting where you need to be?  Not getting where you’re going, but getting where you need to be?  That must be what getting lost in the familiar looks like.   My determination can get me where I’m going any day.  So can a map or GPS.  But getting where I need to be isn’t that easy.

Oh this isn’t coming out as easily as I had hoped it would.  Does it make sense to anyone?  The whole concept of getting lost in the familiar? 

Another example for me, from personal experience of getting lost in the routine, would be getting lost in my faith.  It can become so comfortable, routine, second nature and the routine gets us where we’re going.  But what happens when you become lost in the familiar?  Everything you thought you knew, everything familiar, and comfortable, all of the sudden become unknown.

Speaking honestly from my heart:  I’ve served through my church for 20 of my 32 years of life.  It’s a part of me; a huge part of who I am.  I have served the Church of the Nazarene for over 30 years, but now I’m lost in the familiar.  I’m lost in the antiquated, archaic system.  This beloved church that I have so diligently and whole heartily served is no longer comfortable to me.  I’m lost in the one place that I thought I knew. 

I suppose that can happen when you serve a building or an institution.  I suppose that can happen when you rely on getting where you’re going instead of where you need to be.  All those years, all that time—given freely.  I wanted to serve, but what now?  The very institution I have served no longer knows I exist.  What now?

Being lost in the familiar really stinks. 

Oh, don’t worry, I’m not depressed.  I’m just trying to figure out how to get un-lost. 

Thankfully my Father gives really good directions…

Overwhelming Sadness

Like the waves hit the sand and drift back and forth, I have these moments of overwhelming sadness. They just hit me, wash over and then they are gone. I am thankful that they go as quickly as they come, but it is a deep, haunting sadness at times that makes me feel as if I just feel off the monkey bars, landing flat on my back on the playground. I can't breathe, I can't talk--I just lay there.

So when these waves of overwhelming sadness hit me and then leave, I'm left trying to figure out why they choose me in the first place. I'm not sad, I'm not mad, I'm just enjoying my morning, watching a movie, sipping coffee, feeling the breeze off the lake, watching the calm and peaceful water sparkle in the sunlight. But there in the back of my mind, tucked in the corner collecting dust, are memories that contain the sadness.

Floating In Limbo

I haven't written ANYTHING in a long while.  Not sure why, but just haven't.  Writing is so therapeutic, so without that outlet, my head gets too full—so far it hasn't busted.  (Fingers crossed that it won't.)

The term Floating in Limbo came to me this morning on my commute in to town.  If I were to describe how I feel right now, today, this very moment, I would tell you that I feel like I'm floating in limbo. 

This by no means is a bad thing.    As David wrote "But as for me, I will sing your power.  I will shout with joy each morning because of your unfailing love.  For you have been my refuge, a place of safety in the day of distress.  O my strength, to you I sing praises, for you, O God, are my refuge."  Psalm 59:16-17

I've been busy reveling in His power.  I've been wallowing in His love, tucked in close under His strong, protecting arms.   Oh to feel safe and protected!  It's refreshing after a long period of feeling raw, exposed, and storm tossed.  I'm as happy as a clam at high water!  (Google it.)

I just feel like I'm Floating in Limbo.  The awareness is that I can't stay here forever, but I don't feel the nudge to move necessarily.  I feel at peace in the in between… I've found peace in limbo.  How weird is that?  Most of the time we have to have a plan, we have to know where we go next; most times we obsess about what is coming  down the line.  I just don't care right now. 

"Be glad for God is planning for you.  Be patient in trouble, and prayerful always."  I don't know what THE PLAN is or if there even is A PLAN, but I know that I trust Him.  I know He's got me on His mind.  Patience is a new thing for me.  I've never known it before… but lake dwelling has given me a lesson in patience.  It's calmed my internal rhythms.  I've felt peace for the first time in a very long time.

For the first time in a long while, I'm okay waiting. I'm okay with floating in limbo. I don't have to know what's coming and I don't even care what's coming. I guess the lessons learned have shown me that I'm going to be okay no matter what comes along. In the good, in the bad, in the ugly—I'm going to be okay. My family is going to be okay.

I'm loving this peaceful, easy feeling… I'm taking it for what is and enjoying it. Will this be the norm for my life? Absolutely not. But it's good to live in the calm after the storm. At least I know it exist. Come what may, I know peace exists. I didn't find it, it found me and I am so thankful.

So while I'm not asking for a storm to come my way, I know that I'm ready. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm in good Hands…

Last 48

Okay, okay… so for me NOT to write about the last 48 hours of my life, I would do myself a grave injustice. I’m not stupid enough to believe that everyone would be interested in my stories and if you could care less, please read no further—I won’t be offended. But if you are intrigued, join me in the comical retelling of the last 48.

Tuesday morning I woke up late and had to rush getting ready. NO ONE likes to rush and when your commute is 30-45 minutes depending on traffic, running late really isn’t an option.

Thankfully, I wasn’t really late-late for work. Of course, 7am is awfully earlier to start the day, but whatever. Now I had several near mishaps early on in the morning as every time I’d walk down the hall, I’d slip on the newly waxed floors with my newly unearthed high heels (moving gave me a few ‘new’ outfits). I never wear heels but don’t you know the day I do, the floor and I just can’t seem to get along. Anyway, things cruised along until about 9am when everything came to a screeching halt for me. “You want me to do what?” Ever been asked to do something that you know you’re not supposed to? Ever been asked to do something that could lead to your immediate dismissal from your job? YONGAS!

Amidst all the hoopla, I broke out into a major sweat. Oh those blasted nerves! When this happened, I experienced a rush of sudden realization that in my early morning stupor, I obviously had forgotten a very important part of my regimen: DEODORANT. Sweating even more at this point, I was on a mission to find deodorant. Thankfully, a friend had back-up and I was saved… and all who would come in contact with me throughout the day were also saved.

As I was preparing for an important engagement at 2pm, I was met with even more insanity. It blows in and out of my office rapidly. Just as the distant thunder warns of the impending storm, I always know when the insanity is blowing my way.

As I departed for my hop-skip-and-a-jump engagement at 2pm, I was startled in the hallway as a head popped out from the side hall—it was a little person. Whoa. As many folks are unnerved by clowns, I am unnerved by little people. Please don’t be offended, it’s just something that has a strange effect on me. In her precious little voice she said

“I like your shoes” and I politely said “Oh thank you,” and scurried into the next office.

Oh please don’t follow me…sorry, but I can’t handle this…as the door shut behind me, I was breathing again.

I made my engagement fine, but forgot that I had gum in my mouth. How “professional”. I tried to glue it to the roof of my mouth, but during our conversation as it was my turn to speak, the bright fluorescent green gum fell. I quickly tucked it to the side, smoothing it as best I could to my molars. A very difficult task when you are speaking. I found my moment when the person I was speaking with looked down to read something off of her paper; at this point I was able to quickly dislodged the gum and swallow it. Please God, don’t let me choke… Phew… Thank you God for preventing the choking.

I made it through the meeting and I survived. With the shoes that nearly caused me to fall at least a half dozen times, the insanity, the startling emergence of the little person, the gum… I survived. Thank you Lord, I survived.

Fast-forward to Wednesday. Most of the day was fine… my troubles came in the afternoon.

I made it to work unscathed, but just late enough to not have a parking space. ANNOYING! So I darted over to visitor, I KNOW Preferred Parking, I KNOW! (Blast you Mr. B and your company of car boot happy minions!)

When I left work for the day and went out to the parking garage, I was so nervous when I spotted the parking attendants standing the garage staring at me. I was sure at that point I had been ticketed or booted. (You’ll be happy to know that I REMEMBERED my deodorant this day.) I frantically grabbed my keys and found my car. As I’m trying to get into the car, my nerves were getting the best of me. Please don’t talk to me… oh good, no ticket… come on keys, let me in the car… in true panic mode, I picked up my phone and acted as if I was answering it. I don’t know why, but I do that sometimes when I’m nervous. It makes me feel better to think that I’m talking to someone. (Yes, I know how weird that sounds, but whatever.) I could not get the stupid door to unlock! SERIOUSLY? What in the world! I hate this stupid car with it’s stupid broken door handle and cracked windshield…oh wait… this car has a door handle and no crack… MORON! This isn’t my car. So on my real phone, but fake conversation, I started laughing.

“I’m at the wrong car!” I said. HA HA HA went my nervous laugh.

“I’m such an idiot! Gotta go find my real car!” and hung up on my fake conversation with a person that was not on the other end.

When I found my car and got in, I got out of that blasted garage as quickly as my four wheels would take me. What in the world!!!!

When I arrived home, I was greeted by my beautiful daughter. We came inside and I changed my clothes. She was playing with the dog dishes—I’m such a wonderful mother. I came out to find water all over the floor. So, I grabbed a towel and cleaned it up. When I came back through and stepped down into the den, I slipped in water and my relatively tall/large body slammed to the floor—landing on my hand/wrist and shoulder. Immediate pain shot up through my arm and I started crying. Abby was so very concerned,

“Mommy cry? Mommy cry? Don’t cry baby.”

How can you cry when your baby is telling you not to cry? I had obviously missed some of the water, but made sure to dry it up with my body on my way back through.

After dinner, I went to sit on the couch, but first bent down to pick up the remote. I guess I really wasn’t paying much attention as I slammed my chin down into the arm of the couch. This caused me to bite my tongue and shatter my teeth. SERISOULY? It was most obvious to me at this point that I needed to sit still and not move. I safely made it through another day and found my way to my cozy bed around 11pm.

After the last 48 hours, I have been blessed with loads of nervous sweat, nervous laughter from the little person encounter, tons of eye rolling and SERIOUSLY? from the stupidity of my wrong car incident/fake phone conversation and thankfully only have minor bruising from the fall and a very small burn from my chin slamming into the upholstery of my couch.

What a crazy 48 this has been. Hope you’re laughing!

Home Is Where the Heart Is

You can't pack up the memories. As the photos have been taken down from the walls, mantle and various other areas of display, I'm struck with the overwhelming reality that you cannot really box up the memories. I cannot tenderly wrap them and place them snuggly within a cardboard shell. I cannot load them in my car and take them an hour up the road to unload them in the house on Beaten Path Road. The laughter, the tears, the many conversations and the many friends that have passed through the threshold on Markus Drive—those irreplaceable memories cannot be removed. They will echo in the small house forever, as long as the house is standing.

Sam's backyard baseball games; Jamie's backyard football; Abby's first room, first steps, first words… her first days of living out in the real world. The finger prints on the glass, on the walls… the footprints, the dust—all of combine to make so many wonderful memories.

They say that home is where the heart is. I used to believe that to mean that my heart belonged in the home on the side of the mountain in Virginia, off Ridgecrest Road. I used to think that my heart would always long for my childhood home; nothing can replace that home. So many memories that are impossible to remove from that home—they could not be boxed up and carried with me to each house that followed.

I have come to realize in my short life, that home is in fact where the heart is. Home is not four walls, bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms-- home is not the "where", but the "who". Home is exactly where my heart is! And my heart is with my Sam, Jamie, Abby and Jeffrey. My heart is with them wherever they go; whatever they do—my heart belongs to them and is always with them. I am at home, at peace, when I am with them.

Preparing to move my entire family and life as I've known it for the past five years is very difficult. Harder than I thought it would be. My heart aches as I imagine my children starting over; making new friends in a new school. New routines, new schedules—a new life. It is exciting and for me, the chance at "new" is extraordinary. But I worry about my boys especially. I worry about my husband and his future career path. I'm the mom, I'm the wife—I'm supposed to worry, I suppose.

As I walk through the rooms as they empty out, I'm sad. I remember the parties, the dinners, the play—I think of each of the folks that have come into my home over the last five years. Some I don't see anymore; some I long to see again.

I pray for a new start; a fresh beginning. A chance to open my home once again to familiar friends, family and to invite new friends in. To sit and chat; to dine and play with people who I love and who I will learn to love. It really is quite exciting when you think about it! A blank slate, to be filled with whatever God chooses. So, I take a deep breath and I place one foot in front of the other.

It is not an easy road to travel. I can't pack up memories in neat little boxes, but I can carry the warmth of their existence in my heart. Some memories will fade as photographs, but some will remain with me always. And when I recall Markus Drive and my five years there, I will smile and I will know deep within my heart—my family, my heart, my life was blessed by that home.

As the door closes one last time behind me and the key turns the lock, I know that I can walk forward confidently into the new. Thank you for shelter, thank you for warmth, and thank you for the memories Markus Drive. May you richly bless those who walk through your doors henceforth and may they find peace, comfort, warmth and shelter within your walls.

Even the Squirrels

Taking a Sabbath these days has been more intentional, more purposeful.  It’s been over three weeks since I have been in a church “service”, yet I have maintained a weekly Sabbath.  An extremely meaningful time set aside to worship this God who loves me so dearly; a time to pursue God and his purposes for my life.  I understand that the Word says we should not give up meeting together and I believe that.  However, for me, in recent days, I’ve had to give that up.  For me it has been necessary in order to gain perspective.  Why do I believe?  Why do I serve? Why do I follow?  Who do I believe in?  Who do I serve? Who do I follow?

The study from the Word this morning is from Psalm 56.  I’ve been drawn to the Psalms as of late—it seems more relatable for such a time as this. Beautiful poetry, lyrics, and structure adequately describing my hearts song on many occasions.

Psalm 56- The Message

 ^1-4 Take my side, God—I'm getting kicked around, stomped on every day.
   Not a day goes by
      but somebody beats me up;
   They make it their duty
      to beat me up.
   When I get really afraid
      I come to you in trust.
   I'm proud to praise God;
      fearless now, I trust in God.
      What can mere mortals do?

 ^5-6 They don't let up—
      they smear my reputation
      and huddle to plot my collapse.
   They gang up,
      sneak together through the alleys
   To take me by surprise,
      wait their chance to get me.

 ⁷ Pay them back in evil!
      Get angry, God!
      Down with these people!

 ⁸ You've kept track of my every toss and turn
      through the sleepless nights,
   Each tear entered in your ledger,
      each ache written in your book.

 ⁹ If my enemies run away,
      turn tail when I yell at them,
   Then I'll know
      that God is on my side.
 ^10-11 I'm proud to praise God,
      proud to praise God.
   Fearless now, I trust in God;
      what can mere mortals do to me?

 ^12-13 God, you did everything you promised,
      and I'm thanking you with all my heart.
   You pulled me from the brink of death,
      my feet from the cliff-edge of doom.
   Now I stroll at leisure with God
      in the sunlit fields of life.

Amazing!  I am so proud to praise God.  I mean, the God of the Universe has been so good to me!  I’m humbled and overwhelmed today.

Look at all the blessing in my life!  First of all, I have sight—I can look at the creation surrounding me; the trees, the sun, the grass, the ants, the birds, the water, the dirt, the squirrels (yes, even squirrels)… my children, my husband, my family.  Right now, I am seated at my kitchen table.  I can see the sun streaming through the trees outside; I can hear the birds. Abby is resting peacefully in the other room; there are pictures of my family all around me-- these beautiful, precious children that God blessed my life with.  I do not deserve this 20/20 vision.  I do not deserve these beautiful children.  Their smiles, their laughter, their life energy!  I don’t deserve the devotion and adoration of my wonderful and amazing husband.  I don’t deserve the devotion of beautiful friends who love me even when I’m unlovable. 

Yet God opened up a giant gift closet and he keeps pulling out gifts just for me! They just keep coming.  Daily he opens my eyes to the precious gifts that He has hand-picked specifically for me.   He placed each and every piece of my life together long before I was even conceived.  He had a plan for me—for my life.  He wanted me.  He needed me.  He chose me and created me for His purpose.

When I look in the mirror, it is a difficult concept to grasp.  Why would God want me?  Why would my husband or children or family want me?  Why would my friends want me?   I am nothing.  I don’t love like I should; I don’t give like I should; I don’t reach out as I should; I’m incredibly flawed.  Yet I am surrounded by people who love me!  People who want me and people who need me.  Maybe the needing part isn’t entirely true—I don’t know.

The most amazing part of the story, of my story, is that I’m surrounded by God.  Jesus wants to walk with me and talk to me.  This Father and Son duo are intentional about loving me.  (Yes, I know it’s really a Trio.) They are intentional about seeking me.  They teach me with purpose and vision; they know what they want me to know.  They know what they need me to do and they are patient teachers, counselors and friends.  WOW!

This morning, my walk with God is a leisurely stroll in the sunlit fields of life!  He has captured each tear that has fallen.  He removes the sadness from each drop.  In its place, He puts a hint of joy in the salty mixture—a river of beautiful life streams down my cheeks.  He takes the wounds gently cleanses them.  A healing balm is placed over the cuts and scrapes on my delicate skin; the bruises are cooled with His tender hand.  The Spirit (ah, the Trio) breathes life into my lungs—a warm, radiant and comforting feeling pervades my body.  I am peaceful and I am at home with my Jesus. 

For all that You've done I will thank You,

For all that You're going to do,

For all that You've promised and all that You are

And all that has carried me through, Jesus I thank You.

And I thank You, thank You, Lord.

And I thank You, thank You, Lord.

Thank You for loving and setting me free,

Thank You for giving Your life just for me

Now I thank You, Jesus I thank You,

Gratefully thank You,

Thank You.

©1991, Shepherd's Heart Music

Words and Music by Dennis Jernigan

I want to be fearless in You.  Teach me how; show me the way.  I want to be bold and courageous in You.  Teach me, mold me, and shape me.  I want to love unconditionally!  Grow that kind of love deep within my soul. 

LIVE FREE!

On My Way

i've been trying to write for days now and i honestly have nothing.  it seems that i can't figure out how to piece together all the words flying around in my head.

so i'll start here.

 

i'm sorry.  it seems that, as of late, i've made many people angry with me. i cannot say or do anything right--so it seems.   i find it incredibly interesting how venomous the anger has been.  while i've been hurt by many people who i thought were friends, i can honestly say i hold no anger towards them.  we all fail.  we all mess up.

 

somewhere along the line, it seems some folks in my life had the idea that i thought i was something better than they were.  how sad that makes my heart!  if you truly know me, you know that would never be the case.   i recognize we are all flawed, we are all on the journey, we are all trying to figure this life out.

 

therefore, i'm giving up the fight.  i'm done.  white flag-- i surrender.

 

life is too short to be so hard on one another.  life is too short to get caught up in the legalism of our environments.   life is too short to be narrow minded- only focused on self.   i've seen how i've been stretched; how my eyes have been opened and my vision improved.  i've honed in on the target and i'm aiming at that.

 

i'm sad that i've lost friends.  it hurts my heart.  but at the same time, with that hurt, i wonder if they were ever truly friends to begin with?  i'm walking out of your life and you've not said a thing.  not one word.  so maybe you never really cared to begin with.  i just don't know.

 

i've had friends walk out of my life in the past.  some i have let go because i didn't know what else to do.  some i tried to hold onto, i tried to reach out to--but they didn't want me there.  i can't stay somewhere i'm not wanted.

 

so with my bags packed and a pocket full of my lessons learned-- i walk away.  i walk away from the old and with hopeful expectancy, look towards the new.   

 

   

stepping out

embracing the light

life in the breeze

on the wind

on the sea

what will i find

what will i do

can i ever really be seen

will you still love me

will you stand by me

one foot first

then the other

i know You're here

show me how to live

lift me up

give me wings

walk along this road with me

 

© 2010 Melissa Meador Wilson

 

 

 

 

My Life Song

When I turned my radio on at work, Something Beautiful was just beginning.  Deep cleansing breath—oh man, God is so good!  This song is my life song, my anthem.  Much like the Rainbow promise, it has come to represent all of God's promises tied up in a wildflower bouquet handed to me by the almighty Creator.  This song reminds me that God is moving, he is working, and he is with me.  It speaks to the depths of my soul—underneath all the mess, I trust God will honor my commitment to him.   While the circumstances surrounding my life aren't beautiful by any means, I've being totally consumed by Jesus. His presence almost takes my breath away! Through the tears and the pain, there is a beautiful plan for my life—that is the promise I will not let go of!  It's what gets me out of bed in the morning and helps me press on through the day.

 

When the day is done and I lay my head on my pillow, my conversations with Jesus vary.  I talk about how I feel - what makes me sad and what makes me happy.  All the while, I fully realize that it really isn't about me at all.  Sure, I hurt—I've lost a friend or two over the last year and I've taken quite a beating.  What an incredibly painful process all the way around. What really strikes me is that these losses haven't been due to death or relocation.   If I were to pinpoint a reason, I would place an X in the box marked "broken relationship due to inability to love unconditionally".  Recognizing your responsibility or your portion of the blame in a broken relationship is so hard.  But along with that recognition, I also see that it very much takes two committed individuals to be in a relationship.   

 

When it comes to right and wrong, I have no problem accepting my turn at the blame table.  Put a dunce cap on my head and place a placard around my neck that reads "IT'S ALL MY FAULT."  I do that well! (It's innate; I am a professional Blame Carrier.) I can say that I'm better and stronger for accepting my role in relationship dysfunction.  We all mess up and when we create relationship dysfunction, we should always seek forgiveness and do our part to work towards restoration- if that is how God leads you.

But what happens after all that? What happens after you take your turn at the blame table and wear the placard the time period of your sentence and then forgiveness isn't granted?  What happens when whoever you are in a relationship with refuses to waive the wand of forgiveness, hence dubbing you as Forgiven? 

If we are capable of unconditional love, what happens when we refuse to love each other unconditionally?

I've had a glimpse of that. 

 

Here's what I think happens: We take all the grace we have been given and we bottle it up; cap it tightly and seal it in an airtight container.  With our bottle of grace, we take a little car ride—heading to the bank. Once there, our signature is placed on the appropriate line and a one of kind key is presented for authentication. The vault doors are unlocked and we enter.  While in the vault, we take that air tight container filled with the grace we had been given and it is tucked neatly and efficiently in a safe deposit box.  While we're there, we also decide that the bottle of mercy we've been carrying around in our bag, carefully sealed the same way as the bottle of grace, needs to be deposited as well-- just to be on the safe side.  Nobody's going to get that grace or mercy!  Not without the appropriate signature or one of kind key.

 

When I think of it this way, it really makes me so sad.  For a Jesus follower, why would we hoard grace and mercy?  Why would we deny others the same things we were freely given?  And what leaves us to decide who deserves grace or mercy?  I'm very curious about this. 

 

In the same vein, what leaves us to decide who is worthy of our love and who is not?  Are we not all humans, created by God himself?  Are we all not loved by God?  If so, then why can't we love one another?

It's a dirty rotten game we humans like to play.  Somehow in our simplistic, egotistical, human being pea-brains, we've decided we know better than God.  Somewhere along the line, we've decided who is valuable, who is loveable, who deserves grace, mercy and who deserves forgiveness.  How heart-breaking and sad.

Regardless, God loves us.  He created us and he wants us!  When the thought crosses your brain and you feel that humans don't want you or have no use for you, let it be a fleeting thought.  Kick it out of your head!  God wants you and he most definitely has a purpose for your life!  Forget the humans, we are incapable of reading God's thoughts and we can't speak for him. 

 

What is He whispering in your ear?  When you sit and chat with Jesus, what is he saying to you?  How does he treat you?  I believe that when we are able to see Jesus for who he truly is, we will see his love and tenderness that you have probably never see.  You will find acceptance in His eyes.  When wrapped in his arms, you will feel the grace and mercy flow from him—it is palpable and it is life changing.

So what's your anthem?  What reminds you of God's promises?  Are you hung up on what people think, do, and say or are you focused on what Jesus is saying?

I once was blind

But now I see

I once was lost

But now I'm found

When I was down

You came around

You picked me up and carried me through the long dark night

There is nowhere I'd rather be

Then right next to You…

 

© 2010 Melissa Meador Wilson

Disappear

Along the open road
I am quietly walking
Intently listening for the melody
Fervently searching for the words
Could there be a song in my brokenness?
Left here on my own
Not a soul in sight
Longing just to hear some recognizable sound
Waiting to feel a familiar embrace
If there is a song from my brokenness, will I be able to sing it?
I do not know where this road is leading
All signs seem to have evaporated
Ahead in the distance
Someone stirs
Are they walking away?
Are they walking towards?
I just want to stop and sit
Stay here and disappear

 

 
©2010 Melissa Meador Wilson

 

 

Relating to Moses

 

There is truly a time for everything.

Ecclesiastes 3

¹ There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

 ^2-8 A right time for birth and another for death,
   A right time to plant and another to reap,
   A right time to kill and another to heal,
   A right time to destroy and another to construct,
   A right time to cry and another to laugh,
   A right time to lament and another to cheer,
   A right time to make love and another to abstain,
   A right time to embrace and another to part,
   A right time to search and another to count your losses,
   A right time to hold on and another to let go,
   A right time to rip out and another to mend,
   A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
   A right time to love and another to hate,
   A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

^9-13 But in the end, does it really make a difference what anyone does? I've had a good look at what God has given us to do—busywork, mostly. True, God made everything beautiful in itself and in its time—but he's left us in the dark, so we can never know what God is up to, whether he's coming or going. I've decided that there's nothing better to do than go ahead and have a good time and get the most we can out of life. That's it—eat, drink, and make the most of your job. It's God's gift.

¹⁴ I've also concluded that whatever God does, that's the way it's going to be, always. No addition, no subtraction. God's done it and that's it. That's so we'll quit asking questions and simply worship in holy fear.
 ¹⁵ Whatever was, is.
   Whatever will be, is.
   That's how it always is with God.

 

So much to think about. So much to process… We're reading another new book—I'm gleaning so much from so many talented communicators'. I've really been thinking a lot about Moses.

 

Could it be that now is the time to "wage war"? Could it be that what wrecks my heart does in fact wreck God's heart? Could it be that now is my time to stand up and say "I can't take it anymore!"

 

The following excerpt from HOLY DISCONTENT is interesting; enjoy!

 

 

Holy Discontent by Bill Hybels

978-0-310-27228-1

Copyright ©2007

The Question That Started It All

he question had me vexed for two solid years. You probably know the type: questions like these keep you up at night, distract you when you're trying to stay focused on tackling other challenges, and cling to your last good nerve until they somehow get their answers. Here was the one that had disrupted my world for all that time: 

What is it that motivates people to work where they work, volunteer their time to the groups they serve, and donate money to the causes they support? That's it. That was my "vexing" question. To put it simply, Why do people do what they do? 

For starters, let's take the issue of vocation. Have you ever wondered why builders build, why writers write, why teachers teach, or why painters paint? I mean, what is it that compels people to give the vast majority of their waking hours to occupations such as these? Frankly, I think the answer is more substantive than merely "to get a paycheck" because an astounding number of us are also pouring time and energy into roles and responsibilities that don't pay a single dime.

In a given year it's estimated that American adults volunteer roughly 20 billion hours of their time. I have scores of friends in senior leadership positions with hospitals, ministry programs, nonprofit groups, schools, charities, and other worthwhile endeavors, and they all attest to the fact that their whole deal would crumble were it not for volunteer involvement. The annual dollar value on all that donated time, in case you're wondering, is about $225 billion¹ —roughly the total GNP of a country the size of Austria.² Add to that figure the many hundreds of millions in cold, hard cash that is given to worthy causes year after year after year, and things get pretty interesting. 

With so many people engaging in so much positive, world-enhancing activity, the insatiably inquisitive part of my personality just wants to know one thing: Why? 

As I mentioned, issues such as this one bounced around my brain unanswered for twenty-four long months. I started to wonder if I'd ever find resolution to it, but then came the welcomed breakthrough. 

Moses' Underlying Motivation

Many people I know rely on various disciplines to help them gain a sense of peace or purpose as they get going each day. You probably have a few of your own, but one that I've tried to practice for several decades now is to read a small section of the Bible every morning. Admittedly, I don't always experience immediate dividends; on some days, I dutifully get through my fifteen minutes and then go about my life seemingly unchanged. Then there are times when engaging in that simple practice serves to stretch my mind, infuse my heart with encouragement, and lift my spirit. The words seem to leap off the page!

This was one of those days. 

I was making my way through the book of Exodus when I came upon an interesting passage about Moses, one of the greatest leaders the ancient world ever knew. You're probably well acquainted with his story; I thought I was too, actually, but what gripped me this time around was that I finally figured out the underlying motivation that fueled Moses' primary achievement in life — leading his people out of captivity and into the Promised Land. 

Let me back up to the actual account, which begins in Exodus 2:11. The text says that "one day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to where his own people were and watched them at their hard labor."³ (Quick note for context: Moses had been raised in Egypt by the pharaoh's adult daughter and was undoubtedly accustomed to the wealth, education, and freedom that accompanied such a privileged setting. Despite his posh Egyptian surroundings, though, Moses always knew that he was not really an Egyptian. He was Hebrew by birth — a Jew who was only living the Egyptian life "accidentally." So when the text refers to him seeing his "own people" working hard, it means his Hebrew countrymen, a group that at that time had been held captive by the Egyptians for more than four hundred years.) 

Essentially, Pharaoh and his lieutenants were building a thriving economy on the weary backs of their Hebrew slave labor. The work ethic mandated by Egyptian overlords was merciless — day after day, Hebrew men with no rights and little hope for future freedom were pushed past the point of exhaustion in the sweltering midday sun as they made bricks for Pharaoh's vast construction programs. Moses' people had come to accept their plight as "the norm," believing there was nothing they could do to impact change. 

It is in this context that we find Moses scoping things out around town, his heart understandably heavy as he sees firsthand the repulsive oppression his people were being forced to deal with. An already troubling situation takes a turn for the worse, though, when Moses looks up to find an Egyptian beating a Hebrew — one of his own people. Being treated as slaves was bad enough, but now his countrymen were being physically abused too? This level of injustice wasn't about to prevail on his watch! Moses has to do something.

Let me push Pause on the scene for a moment to ask you to consider the last time you saw a physical beating. I'm not talking about something you see in the movies that's been staged and scripted. I'm talking about a real fight . . . up close and personal. 

I hope you've never witnessed one; I've only seen one in my entire life, and I wish to this day I could kick the gruesome memory out of my mind. I was a teenager at the time, standing in front of my locker in the hallway of my high school in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Suddenly I heard some activity a few lockers down and looked up right as the awful situation unfolded. A young kid —probably a freshman — was minding his own business when a senior twice his size started to pick a fight with him. The senior was bulked up and had a snide grin on his face. He knocked the kid's books out of his hands and then totally humiliated him by yelling, "Pick 'em up . . . NOW ! Pick 'em up!!" 

He shouted loudly enough for the gathering crowd of students to hear, and when the tormented kid bent over to collect his scattered books, the bully started calling him terrible names, questioning his masculinity, and ridiculing him, his family, his upbringing, and whatever else he could think of. When the younger guy stood back up, his arms restrained by the heavy books he'd just retrieved, the bully wound up his right arm and threw punch after punch into the middle of the kid's face. 

I can still hear the sound of the senior's fist cracking the nose and shattering the teeth of that young boy who was standing only a few feet from me. I can feel the hostility and rage in the air. I can see the thick blood splattering onto the light brown locker behind him and dripping onto the white terrazzo floor.

Although the whole thing seemed to have moved in slow motion, in reality it happened so quickly that none of us could do anything to stop it. Finally, three of my schoolmates lunged toward the bully and peeled him away before he could do any permanent damage to the freshman kid. It was a sickening experience —and unfortunately one I'll never forget. 

Helping to Fix a Broken World 

Beatings are impossibly tough to watch, and normal people don't soon forget the gruesome sights and evil sounds that accompany them. This is exactly the type of stomach-churning event that Moses is exposed to in Exodus 2 as he watches an Egyptian guy beat up a fellow Hebrew. He just can't bear the terrible sights, the heart-wrenching sounds, the splattering blood. The injustice of the situation is far too much for Moses to take, and suddenly, something inside him snaps. 

The text says that upon "glancing this way and that"⁴ and seeing no one around, Moses raced to the defense of his countryman. He grabbed the Egyptian and pulled him off his fellow Hebrew, which incited a fight of its own . . . to the death. No doubt horrified by his capacity for violence, Moses buried the Egyptian in the sand and ran away. 

The very next day, Moses went out to observe the plight of his people once again. What he saw must have shaken him to the core: now two Hebrews were fighting each other! Fists were flying, teeth were shattering, noses were breaking — these were the same sights and sounds as before! I bet Moses screamed at the top of his lungs, "Why are you beating up a fellow Hebrew? Did it ever occur to you that he's one of us? What are you thinking? Our people are in forced labor and are getting beaten up regularly by the Egyptians, and now, you're fighting with each other?!" 

It was obvious to Moses that his people were imploding. They'd been exposed to such hatred and violence for so long that they'd probably just wipe each other out if left to their own devices. The appalling abuse and oppression and exploitation they had suffered under Egyptian rule had escalated to the level of total insanity, and Moses found himself on the extreme edge of his emotional limits. "That's it!" he must have cried. "I've absolutely had it! I just can't stand this anymore!" 

Later in the book of Exodus, there is a famous exchange between Moses and God, which takes place beside a burning bush. Moses comes across a shrub that is on fire, but he notices that although it is burning, it's somehow not being consumed. Things become stranger still when he hears the booming voice of God calling his name. "Moses! Take off your sandals. The place where you are standing is 'holy ground.'" 

As a kid in Sunday school, I had the distinct impression that the shocking sight of the burning bush that day utterly scared Moses into helping to free his people from Pharaoh's control. After closer study and reflection over the years, though, I've come to believe that the burning bush was simply an attention-grabber to get Moses to slow down long enough to hear God convey a level of empathy most of us never think to ascribe to him. 

Suffice it to say, the bush-on-fire tactic worked, Moses cooled his jets, and God got the chance to be heard. I think his words to Moses went something like this: "Moses, I completely understand the rage you feel. I too have seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I too have heard them crying out. I too have felt their anguish as they suffer. What you saw when the Egyptian guy was beating the living daylights out of the Hebrew slave, and what you saw and heard when the two Hebrew guys were so frustrated, angry, and hopeless that they started beating each other — I saw those things too! And for what it's worth, I hate the sorrow and suffering as much as you do! More, actually. 

"I am so stirred in my spirit, Moses, that I've decided to intervene from heaven," God probably continued. "I have chosen to rescue them, and I want to use you to help me!⁵ I've been looking high and low for someone exactly like you. If you will participate in my plan, then I will harness the internal firestorm that rages inside you and channel it into positive action —action that will help set my people free from their slavery. 

"I'm going to assign you to a specific role because I see that you are as stirred up on earth as I am in heaven about this issue. I can see what this is doing to you on the inside! I see in you a passion for your people. In your raw emotion, I see a man with a tremendous capacity for activism — a man who refuses to stand by idly while his people are being so dreadfully mistreated. Your frustration can forge leadership mettle and fortitude in you, Moses, if you will let it." 

That's All I Can Stands! 

Keeping the Moses account in mind, I want to come at the dynamic I've been describing from an entirely different angle in hopes of anchoring a couple of key ideas in your brain. 

I'm part of a generation that grew up watching a short, balding, mischievous cartoon character on television. His name was Popeye— Popeye the Sailor Man, to be precise, and if you're ten years on either side of me, you're probably humming the tune right now. Kids crowded onto family room couches every Saturday morning with rapt attention as the sailor with a corncob pipe and one good eye engaged in his next exciting adventure. 

Popeye had a special girl in his life named Olive Oyl. She was a real traffic-stopper, as I recall. Flat chest, pickle-shaped nose, spaghetti-thin arms — quite the looker! Whenever someone cramped the style of his special "goil" as he called her, Popeye typically took it all in stride. He had a long fuse, and on most occasions, he was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. But if things took on a menacing tone—if it looked like something really terrible might befall his beloved Olive Oyl, then Popeye the Sailor Man's

pulse would race, his blood pressure would skyrocket, and his anger would begin to boil. He'd take it as long as he could, but once his long fuse burned up, Popeye would blurt out the words that an entire generation had branded into their psyche: "That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no more!" (Dubious grammar, I know . . . what else would you expect from a sailor?) 

The now-enraged Popeye would rip open a can of spinach and swallow the green lump in one giant gulp. Immediately, a stream of supernatural strength flowed into his body —mostly into his forearms. They'd instantly bulk up to quadruple their normal size, giving Popeye the strength to be an unstoppable force for good in the world. He'd crush the opposition in no time and save his precious Olive Oyl from all sorts of distress. Then, once life had returned to its steady state, he'd sing himself off the screen, "I'm strong to the finich, 'cause I eats me spinach . . . I'm Popeye the Sailor Man!" 

What a show! 

As you'd imagine, people started eating a lot of spinach after that cartoon came out. But I think Popeye left behind a much more significant legacy than that, and it has to do with his key line, "That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no more!" 

Friends, this is an extremely important line to think about! 

What happens when we reach the point where we can't "stands no more"? Well, for our Old Testament friend Moses, he could no longer tolerate his fellow Hebrews being oppressed and beaten. He just couldn't stand it! It was his "Popeye moment," if you will —the final ounce of frustration that flung Moses right over the edge. Because God couldn't stand the Israelites' mistreatment either, he used what I call a "firestorm of frustration" that was brewing in Moses' soul to launch this unlikely leader into a prominent role that resulted in the nation of Israel eventually inhabiting the Promised Land. 

Certainly, Moses is not the only person in history who was motivated by a Popeye moment to make a difference in the world. In recent days, I've asked loads of people I know to reflect on how they got involved in the things that now consume their time, their money, and their energy. What were the experiences that compelled them to pursue the passions they are now pursuing? Those interactions, along with some personal study and reflection, led me to craft a theory in my mind about this subject. 

Here is what emerged: I believe the motivating reason why millions of people choose to do good in the world around them is because there is something wrong in that world. In fact, there is something so wrong that they just can't stand it. Like Popeye, they too experience a firestorm of-frustration moment when they grow so completely incensed by the present state of affairs that they throw their hands up in the air and shout, "That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no more!" As a result, they devote their vocational lives, their volunteer energies, and their hard-earned money to making sure it gets fixed. 

In my little straw-poll survey, the catalysts I uncovered that thrust people into their Popeye moments ran the gamut. A corporate executive I know had visited a ravaged third-world village teeming with starving kids and came away with an extra dose of compassion ... as well as fire in his gut to effect change. A young mom had battled through the pain of losing a baby and resurfaced determined to speak into the lives of other despondent women. A newly married couple had soaked up a news report on TV one night about an entire country filled with people who suffer under a corrupt political regime. Staring into the eyes of those who have no voice caused them to find their own in advocating individuals' rights in their spheres of influence. 

The point is, the irresistible attraction to a specific cause that compelled these people to invest joyfully of their time, their money, and their energies always linked back to a single spark of frustration that fueled what is now a raging fire in their souls. 

What Puts the "Holy" in Holy Discontent 

I should clarify that the gory Egyptian murder scene and the wild burning bush episode weren't exactly why the words leaped off the page the morning I was doing my devotional reading in Exodus. I think the real reason I was so fired up that day was because I finally had some supernatural sustenance to feed the vexing question I'd wrestled with for two years. Based on the Moses account, my "firestorm of frustration" theory was starting to hold water. I mean, here you have a massive, history-altering turn of events that gets the Hebrew people freed from hundreds of years of spirit-squelching slavery, and yet the whole deal can be traced back to a simple alliance between God and one normal, everyday, earth-bound human being who happened to find himself stirred up by the exact same thing that stirred the heart of his Creator. 

I've come to refer to the powerful, spiritual congruence that connected Moses' priorities to the priorities of God as his "holy discontent," and it's a concept that works in our modern world as well. Still today, what wrecks the heart of someone who loves God is often the very thing God wants to use to fire them up to do something that, under normal circumstances, they would never attempt to do. Whether you're a high-powered marketplace person, a stay-at-home mom, a full-time student, or something altogether different, you (yes you) can join God in making what is wrong in this world right! And it all starts with you finding your holy discontent; it begins with you determining what it is that you just can't stand. 

Even the most optimistic people I know agree that there is plenty wrong in our world today —and the Bible would support them. Passages like Romans 8:20 – 21 tell us that the entire creation is frustrated, but that by God's power, everything that is broken and frazzled and wrong will one day be redeemed. In fact, if there's one thing that God is focused on every moment of every day, it is this idea of restoration. He is working right this minute — even as you are reading this sentence—to call our sorry and broken world back to its original beauty and purpose. 

If you expose yourself to all that's broken in our world but neglect to view the brokenness from heaven's perspective (which promises that everything is in the process of being restored), then you'll get sucked into an impossible, downward spiral of aggravation and anger. Things will seem so bleak that you'll wind up taking up residence inside your firestorm of frustration instead of allowing it to propel you toward positive action. 

Once that frustration and anger is understood as being your holy discontent, though — your spiritual connection to the God who's working to fix everything— it's as if an enormous wave of positive energy gets released inside you. Much like Popeye in his spinach-infused state, you become an unstoppable force for good in the world. This energy causes you to act on the dissatisfaction that's been brewing deep within your soul and compels you to say yes to joining forces with God so that the darkness and depravity around you gets pushed back. This supernatural supply of energy allows you to move forward past all the natural human-nature responses and enter instead into a life viewed from God's point of view. In other words, your perspective shifts from that which your eyes can see to that which God tells you is true. And it is in this reality that what is enslaved can still be set free, what is broken can still be mended, what is diseased can still be restored, what is hated can still be loved, what is dirty can still be made clean, and what is wrong can still be made right. 

Truth be told, the most inspired, motivated, and driven people I know are the ones who live their lives from the energy of their holy discontent. They have a constant awareness that what is wrecking them is wrecking the heart of God. Refusing to stay fed up, though, they instead get fueled by their restless longing for the better-day realities God says are coming soon. They listen to the soulish instinct inside them that says life just doesn't have to be the way that most people experience it. Most importantly, they suit up and jump into the game when God says, "If you'll hook up with me, I'll involve you in effecting some much-needed change around here!" 

There's another common denominator I've noticed in people who live from the energy of their holy discontent: not only do they hold fast to a "restoration perspective," but they also remember that people are among the things being restored. This should make perfect sense, since you can't genuinely align yourself with God's priorities and then traipse around destroying the crown of his creation, his people. The God I know cares deeply about people, so if your area of dissatisfaction doesn't also reflect an abiding concern for the protection and development of all people, then your frustrated ranting and raving is probably more of a glorified gripe session than the byproduct of a God-given holy discontent. 

Part of living with God's perspective is remembering that the people you bump up against every day are "in process." If God has his way, every last one of them will be restored, redeemed, remade for his eternal glory. Think of all the times in Scripture when Christ made a way for people to get freed up from whatever it was that enslaved them, be it physical bondage, emotional bondage, financial bondage, sexual bondage, or any other kind of burden that left them feeling hopeless and oppressed. When Jesus Christ ministered here on earth, he said that if you know the Truth, the Truth will set you free.⁶ In other words, by knowing and walking with Christ, people can be freed from anything that has them tangled up. It was true for first-century believers, and it remains true for us today. 

What's more, once you choose to walk in the Truth, you get to be an agent of freedom in the lives of other people. I think that's why God makes freedom available as soon as you trust him . . . so that you can receive it, live it, and then go impart it to someone else. Your ability to detect and then act on that which makes you discontent can actually catalyze freedom-based living in the hearts of your friends and family members! This is an idea I'll address more thoroughly in chapter 7, "Magnetic Living." 

What About "Being Content"? 

On occasion, when I engage people in discussions about this subject matter, I get the question, "Yeah, but what about all the voices that tell me to 'be content'?" It's true: much has been written and preached over the years advocating contentedness. Especially in religious circles, it seems there is a constant drumbeat for "finding contentedness" and for "being content." 

Don't get me wrong, the motivations behind the theme are usually pure: in various places in Scripture, Jesus himself says to be content regarding how much money you have, to be content about your circumstances (even when they're not so great), and to be content when your basic needs like food and water and shelter are met.⁷ I just happen to think there's another side to the equation. Friends, the trouble with contentedness is that, when lived out in isolation, it can be lethal! If you're not careful, you will become lulled into a state of satisfaction, safety, and serenity, and you'll altogether neglect needs in the world that should elicit deep discontent when you see them going unmet. 

You can't read the New Testament without seeing some of these "discontentedness-producing" issues crop up. Questions like: 

What about the poor? Who will care for the sick and dying? Will anyone visit prisoners? Who will clothe the naked? Or take in the orphans? Or listen to the hurting? Or give water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, and community to the outcast? 

I think it's entirely possible for us to rest in God's promise of a better day — one in which there will be no compassion fatigue, no anti-depression pills, and no grumbling bellies in South Asian kids —while we work our tails off to usher it in! 

In fact, I think that when you choose to live out of the energy of your holy discontent—elbowing your way past the troubles and struggles and injustices surrounding you in determined pursuit of the "better things" God has promised in his restoration plan —all of heaven rejoices! In the midst of the celebration, God probably looks over at the angels, who are all whooping and hollering in excitement, smiles a knowing smile, and says, "Looks like we've got another Moses on our hands.. . ." 

Holy Discontent by Bill Hybels

978-0-310-27228-1

Copyright ©2007