Beneath the Surface

Lately I have been doing a lot of thinking. I am the kind of person who is constantly trying to find areas of my life to work on, character traits that could use some adjusting. One particular thing that I have been working on is taming my tongue. Let me tell you, I am a sharp speaker. I know that speaking is part of God's call on my life, and it is definitely something that could use help. I will say, I work on being encouraging and uplifting with my words, and I'm getting pretty good at it. However, I am also very quick to criticize, defend and offer clever snapping remarks. Don't let the sweet face fool you, behind these freckled lips is a little pink monster. It's a battle each day to restrain that little fellow, but he puts up a pretty good fight and sometimes (alright most times!) I tend to agree with what he has to say. However, how he says it is not always...how should I put this...kind.

Lately I have also been reading a lot of books. One in particular is a collection of Amy Carmichael's writings. It's called You are My Hiding Place, and let me say, I highly recommend it. Amy offers such remarkable little insights on day to day living that are so uplifting and challenging. I read one about a month ago and I thought I might share it with the few of you hear to read it today. She was talking about those little moments we encounter each every day that she calls, a chance to die.

Today, someone was irritating me so badly. This person was criticizing me because they themselves lacked a discipline that I have worked very hard to achieve. At first, I started to fight back. My words were sharp, blunt and to the point. They of course, came back with a irrelevant remark that bothered me...then that's when Amy's words flashed through my memory. "See in this...a chance to die."

Amy writes, "See in this, this provoking, this rebuke that should not have been, a chance to die. To self, to pride that comes from defending self. Welcome anything that calls you to your only true position, "I have been crucified with Christ..." (Gal. 2:20).

I was right in this matter. Though I often believe I am right when I am not (and that's a whole different story...) this time, I know I legitimately was correct. Yet I realized, it was time to die. I would not give them what they wanted. I would not make a witty rebuttal. I would let them have their say and let that be the end of it.

I love what Amy writes next: "The crucified life cannot be self-assertive. It cannot protect itself. It cannot be startled into resentful words. The cup that is full of sweet water cannot spill bitter-tasting drops, no matter how sharply it is knocked."

Yes, this was a small battle. Yet it is victories in the small battles that lead to victory in the larger ones. When we as believers recognize our place is on the cross, that is when we get to truly live. Let God be your defense. Let God do the talking.

How many of our problems in our lives could be eliminated if only we would see each day, every conflict, every opportunity, every prideful thought, every situation as a chance to die? When we are people who are willing to die, God can give us life that we desire. If we spend less time trying to be right and more time at the cross, words can no longer touch us. Pride fades away. Selfishness ceases. Gratitude grows great. Favor is found.

So when the "sharp knockings" of life come, will we let bitterness spill out, or will sweetness of a crucified life shine forth?
Lord, I pray that you help me recognize my chances to die. I give you the reigns. Be my defense, I'm done. My life is hidden with you. Take it and let your will be done in me.

When I was a small child, my mom put me in swimming lessons. From a very young age, I remember kicking and paddling along in pools. I remember diving for rubber sticks and learning to hold my breath. I loved being in the water. But there was one thing I greatly feared.

BACKFLOATING.

It was simply terrifying. I could swim like crazy and dive, holding my breath for long periods of time, but just sitting still, unsupported in water made my mind go insane. I remember my parents or instructors holding my back up, and then they would do it. They would let go. I kidd you not, every time I immediately paniced and sunk. I was crippled by fear at the very thought of backfloating.

So why did I tell this ridiculous little story from my past? Well you see, God has been using it to reveal something to me lately. I am the type of person who likes to know 'the plan' at all times. I like to know exactly what is going on, who is doing it, where and when, etc. Now I know that God has big plans and purposes for my life as well. So, naturally, I want to make sure I know what is going on.

That being said, I should also inform you that I like back-up plans. Plan B is what I do best. I like having somewhere to go when it seems like I have no where else to turn. Yet God is kinda different. God has been telling me that I don't need a Plan B. He's been saying that Plan A is much too big, and therefore there is no room left for my own agendas.

Just like I felt confident with my swimming, so I also feel confident in the gifts and abilities God has given to me. Yet at times it seems easy to fall back on those abilities so that I no longer have to trust God. But that's the point that I have to learn to backfloat. I have to learn to sit still, let God do His work in me and not struggle, trusting that He will be my support system.

I was really pondering this the other day as I read in Isaiah. I read about God telling the people not to follow their own agendas, going on without His help or direction and I immediately related. Just a few chapters later, in Isaiah 33:6 it reads, "and He (God) will be the stability of your times, abundance of salvation, knowledge and wisdom..." and in verse 16 speaking of the righteous man, "his bread will be given to him, his water will be sure." God began to show me that He is my stability and that I have no need to fear the future. I dont need to make backup plans because His original plan is not only far better, but is going to work out according to His will. God's plans are so unbelievably fantastic that our wildested plan B's could never hope to replace them.

Finally, as I am meditating on these things, God tells me to turn to Matthew 14. There to my amazement, I find the story of Peter being called out of the boat to walk on water with Christ. Peter, when full of faith, could walk perfectly upon the waves. Yet, when He tried to rely on his own strength and compared that with the wild wind and churning sea, he fell short. When we put our focus on Christ, all of life's most brutal storms will not be able to knock us off course.

God is so good. Sometimes its so easy to, in our pursuit of our destiny, to try to fulfill our destiny alone. Yet that is what is so tricky about the formation process. God wants us to learn to rely on Him. I once heard it said, "If the dreams of your heart can be accomplished on your own, apart from God, then they arent of God." God's dreams for us will always surpass our own imaginations. Yet when we learn to just let God take the reigns, when we learn to backfloat, life's troubling waters become gentle. In God's hands, that's where our heart, our minds, worries, cares and fears must lay still.

Not too long ago, my family and I, found the house that was the answer to our prayers. Today, we were moving a bunch of our 'stuff' over to the new house. For about the last few weeks, as I did today, I have been sorting through all the things I have accumulated over the years and throwing a great deal of it away. Old cards, old clothes, old papers and old junk. However, along with all these things, I have found myself throwing away old memories. Some bad, some good, I have gotten rid of so much. I have sorted through shelves and drawers pulling out my forgotten treasures and much missed possessions. Today, as my friend Taylor helped me out, she was saying how much my old things, each with its story, remind her of all those little odds and ends she too has kept through the years. I thought of how everyone has these little items with sentimental value that to anyone else would have thrown into the garbage at the street curb. Each of these are different for each person. There are stories, attachments and memories that tie people to certain objects. As I sorted my belongings, I had a hard time throwing certain items away because they were my only remaining connection to past relationships and past times. Basically, they were my ties to my past self. I began to think of how we tie ourselves to our old, unsaved selves. Just as each person has their own prized possessions, each also has their own special draws and temptations. Sometimes it is so hard to let go of old sins because they mean letting go of old friends and supposedly good memories. Honestly, their were some things I just did not want to get rid of. Yet all the same, I had to ask myself, will this honestly benefit me anymore. No old sin will ever benefit us. The mere thought of it may bring pleasure, but it is only destruction putting up a fancy facade. We must just kick all sources of potential sin, even if only something that will tempt the mind, straight to the curb.



Also, as I was sorting all these things, I found many old and very useful things I forgot I had. Some of them I have never even used. I also think of how often we take the gifts God has given us and the promises that are easily within our reach and burry them deep beneath the 'things' we have to do. Perfectly perfect, they sit unused, as we carry out our duties in our oh-so-busy lives.

So often, we sit, never really examining our hearts on a regular basis. We need to be constantly "moving" forward. Everyday we much sort through our hearts riding of wrong motives and reaching for the things of God. Pull the temptations off the shelf and dust off the destiney God has for our lives. Moving day is everyday. Forward is the direction, God is the destination.

There was a young girl. Typical. Slender. Freckles. Nothing too extraordinary. She's sitting in a cold, dark, sterile room. Tear stained she lies in a broken heap on the cement floor. Her clothing is torn. Her eyes are red. She longs for sleep that she cant seem to find. Opening her eyes, she starts to look around. She sees where she is, and its not where she wants to be. She's tired of this darkness. Tired of the cold. She searches for light. First she turns to religion, but it only makes her numb for a while. She turns to friends, but even they cant penetrate that deep. She turns to immoral relationships. For a while, they seem to work, but they only bring more pain, more worthlessness, and always leave her feeling unclean and unsatisfied. She tries academics, but always seems to come up short. Nothing feels right. Everything within her screams "There must be so much more!" but that something never comes. By looking at her, one would never guess this dark, barren wasteland to be her home. Even though she leaves everyday, she puts on a smile and tries her best, that dark room is all there ever is to come home to. Less like a home, more like a dungeon, this is where she spends her time. She thinks she needs more. More friends, more makeup, more relationships, more free time, but all the 'mores' make her feel like she is even less in comparison. What she really needs, is a rescue.

Each day, her room seems darker and colder. By now, she is completely numb. She does not see this place for what it is anymore. She has spent so long here that she is mentally blinded and cannot recognize how far away she is from where she ought to be. Like a boat off course and adrift at sea, she does not understand that she is straying so far. She doesn't see how badly she needs this rescue. The darkness has become pitch black and she cries at night, not knowing why. Finally in an attempt to free herself, she cries out for help.

And help comes.

A man, the hero of the story, enters. Dressed in all white, he approaches this girl. Kneeling down he wiped the tears from her eyes, cleans the dirt from her face and lets her trade her dirty rags for an elegant gown. She has forgotten what it was like to feel beautiful. The man opens his arms and just holds her. What was this strange feeling? What was this warmth? She can literally feel his love pouring over her. He looks straight into her wide green eyes and says, "My child, I've pulled you out of your dark cellar. I've cleaned you and made you mine. You're perfect. You're mine. I love you."

Tears well up in her eyes and flow down her once more. This time, tears of joy.

This is real. This is love.



This is ME.


This is my story. My past. Sure, the details were a little creative, but the story all true. I was the girl. I was broken. I was lost. I was hurt. I was saved by the Lamb of God.

My life was in this dark place, though I didn't realize it. So caught up in life, I kept busy during the day only to return to tears and tiredness at night. I searched in religion, but found that it was only dead and didn't make a difference. I needed relationship with God.

I searched in friends, but found many were shallow and temporary. I needed intimacy with God.

I searched in relationships and ended up doing a lot of things I regret. I was hurt and stupid. I needed to love God.

I searched in academics, but ended up not too perfect and always burnt out. I needed to find my place in God.

So yes, this was my story. This is what my God did in my life. This is why I get up in the morning. This isn't the end of my story either. I pray that each and every day, God sees my life as a love story that He continues to write. There is a story written about your life. Is there a rescue? Is it exciting? Will it be worth telling one day? I know that mine will be. Can you say the same?

Do you know the feeling when everything feels right, and you wish things would never change? Do you know those things that you know never will? Maybe its a simple and silly as your favorite flavor of ice cream always being the best flavor in the world for your whole life or as meaningful as a lifelong friend. I've had a great number of best friends throughout my life. I still remember being 5 years old, at my best friend Jamie's house thinking we would be this close forever. We were, for a time that is. Then it happened. What happens to every 5 year old, and 10 year old, and 20 year old and 50 year old.

We grew up.

We grew apart.

I guess thats just what happens huh? Now, we are still in contact, still talk. But we lost our closeness. Our true friendship. We are on different levels now. Different goals, different beliefs. As I sit here, writing this, I am reminded of all the friendships I have had over the years. I think of all the friends I have now. But there is something different about this group. Maybe not from the outside, but its there. Beyond skin tones and the shapes of their noses, there is a difference in these friendships. I have an overwhelming sence of peace about them that tells me they are here to stay. Do you know what it is? They have the same spirit. They are pursuing God and challenge me in my faith. That, that right there my friends, is the difference. You see, there is a deep bond in Christian friendships that no amount of space or time can alter. Even if I were to never see them again in this life, I know that as long as they continue seeking God, I will see them again someday.
So what about the others? What about my non-Christian friends? Do I still love them? More than you could know. Do I still miss them? More than you could know. Do I still wonder about if they will ever find Christ? More than you could know. Lately I've thought so much about this group of beautiful girls. If you haven't yet noticed, its just about summer time. For them, its the summer before their senior year. Do you even understand what that means? That means I have 1 year. ONE. That's all. Just a little over 365 days before their futures are practically set. 365 days to tell them all I want them to hear. 365 days to love them as much as I can. 365 days to make them laugh. 365 days to spend. 365 days to lead them to Christ.

I have one year. Just ONE.

I began to think. Why dont I always live with just this "one year" philosophy? As a matter a fact, why dont I live with just a one day mentality? We are only guarenteed one day at a time. There is no promise that we will live to see tomorrow. Today is all we have. So instead of filling our day with worry, fuss, complaints, hatred, bitterness and regret, I believe we must live laughing hard, worrying little, loving lots, and spreading the Gospel message that Christ has come as often as we can. God laid Romans 13 on my heart quite a few months ago, and it has yet to leave. Verses 11 and 12 read "This is all the more urgent, for you know how late it is; time is running out. Wake up for our slavation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is almost gone; the day of our savation will soon be here." Whether it be one day, one month, one year or one thousand years, it doesnt how much time we really have left. Time is not stopping. Why dont Christians cry out over the lost? Why have we become numb to the fact that God doesnt mess around with eternity? Why do we pretend that staying silent will somehow show more of Christ than opening our mouths and preaching to our unsaved friends? Do we even have the decency to pray and weep, broken by how far they are away from God. This is urgent. This is real. Wake up, hit the streets, and start living and leading. Living to serve Christ, leading others to the same.