A Father's Love

Sometimes, well maybe most times, I believe that God patiently waits for us to finish our temper tantrums. We kick and scream and cry about our heartbreaks while God sits and waits for us, usually out of sight, but never far away, until we're finished. While we are breathless and exhausted, He gently approaches, brushes the hair from our faces, then drying our eyes, He whispers "Come with me." And I love how He always, without fail, always shows us something beautiful!

I'm reading The Shack right now and without telling much of anything I'll admit there is one such (and I expect several other) moments just like this. It occurred to me that there are so many examples of this tantrum and release in the bible. I think of David being pursued by Saul, Abraham and Sarah waiting on their promised son, and even one my favorite stories Elijah on mount Horeb.

Exhausted, frustrated, and alone Elijah heads to mount Horeb to get clarity from God on just what is going on. 1 Kings 19 opens with Elijah being threatened by the king's wife Jezebel. Afraid, he flees to the mountain where he weeps himself to sleep to be awakened by an angel who gives him food and drink, and tells him to go back to sleep, twice. I love this story because it is a clear picture of His heart for us, not as a scary an ominous God, but as a tender and patient Father. In fact I think that is what most of these stories have in common.

So then I began to think about all of the stories that weren't in the bible but I sense were there. I thought about women like Sarah and Elizabeth who were well past the age of menopause believing that God was going to keep His promise to them and make them mothers. I thought about Joseph in that prison, wondering if this cell meant that God had forgotten about him and His promise for him.

We have this image in our mind of faith as this stoic or maybe even Stepford-esque joy, complete with plastered on smiles and well prepared religious responses, but what if God is saying "I am a big enough Father to handle your temper tantrums. I don't stop loving you when you get frustrated, I don't take my promises back when you collapse in anger or weariness or fear. Tell me your troubles I want to hear everything. I only ask that when you bring them, you leave them."

Have you ever finished a really good cry and felt empty like "That's it, there's nothing else, I literally cried my guts out." I think that those are the moments that God says "Great! Now I can pour into you." Isn't that tremendous! That He takes all that sorrow pain and anguish and reveals something greater through all of it. I love Him!

Dear Abba,

Thank you for Your patience with us. Thank you for never leaving us alone, for crying with us, and when we're done, picking us up. Give us the courage to cry and surrender to You because we understand that You desire a broken and contrite heart more than sacrifice. We love you, honor and praise You even (and especially) through tears. In Jesus' name we pray,

Amen

Why The Hunger Games Scares Me

Spoiler Alert: If you haven't seen the movie, don't read this blog yet. Mucho spoilers throughout!

So about a week ago I finally saw Hunger Games. I waited a long time to see it because I knew instinctively it was going to be a lot, though I wasn't quite sure of what. I remember watching the first preview and thinking, "This looks like a modern day Holocaust movie."

I thoroughly enjoyed this film. It's beautiful; quiet in the right places, loud in the right places, harsh, and tender. A truly wonderful movie, but it scared me a lot. Here's the thing, it wasn't just the violent scenes or even that these violent acts were being committed by and on children. The reason this movie scares me is I see so much of who we already are as a society in this film. The arrogance, the viciousness, the selfishness; and it does seem, in one way or another, to be pointed at our children. That scares me. Sure we may not be literally sending our children out to be slaughtered by each other, but consider all the ways we are harming them. Stealing money from education, continuing to employ teachers who care nothing about children, ignoring, harming, and belittling them, only to send them out into a world they are ill prepared for. What else can denying our children hope and preparation be called except killing them?

There is a line in a Switchfoot song called Blinding Light:

Hey boy, don't believe them, we're the nation that eats our youth. Hey boy don't believe them none of us are bullet proof.

Are we teaching our children the things that matter? Are we giving them the things that last? Do we even remember how? I honestly have no stats for this but I feel pretty confident that 20 minutes of undivided attention with your child or student or mentee will mean more and last longer than hours spent on any Playstation, Xbox, iPad, iPod or Wii. How can we make sure that our children learn not just survival skills but life skills? I don't know about you, but I don't just want to survive here. I want to flourish, and I want the same for my children.

So, I'm not one of those people who believe in shining light on heavy problems and then walking away, I want to know what you think we can do to kill the Hunger Games mentality in our own society. It doesn't have to be big like building a school. My mentor always says "Success comes in pieces, work the pieces." Let's start a little bit at a time. Love you guys!

To our future,

Ina

Deceiver of Self

It is easy to believe that someone else is the deceiver, after all when we think about "the deceiver" we immediately see the serpent slithering towards Eve with a mouth full of lies. What we may not see is the deceiver that is more dangerous. What is so dangerous that it could make us believe a lie even after we have heard the truth? The greatest deceiver, the most subtle and unassuming of enemies; self. It is she who pulls me back into bed in the morning when my spirit desires time with God. It is she who insists that one funny comment or backwards remark surely couldn't hurt, and it is she who would have me believe that everything is fine even when I feel the Spirit tugging at my heart and mind.

I forget sometimes that she must die daily. Somehow in my mind once and for all is good enough. For redemption yes; the blood of Christ shed once will save for all time, but flesh must be reminded. It is the old friend who asks if you're sure you don't want to stir up some old trouble, the ex who wants to know if there isn't still a little bit of something to hold on to, the habit that insists you are too weak to overcome it.

I'd like to think that just as the word tells us, the bible is full of stories that are "warnings to us" the first of which was Eden. Are you sacrificing a blessing for a lie when you already know the truth? Are you acting as the deceiver? In all sincerity I am asking these questions because I myself need to answer them. How much of where you are is because you won't let yourself go farther?

To seeking and finding the truth,

Ina

A Fluffy Duck With Venom

I am passive aggressive. I say this as a confession, an apology, and a prayer. I recognized today that I have problems saying exactly what I mean exactly when I feel it. I liken it to a poisonous fluffy duck (go with me).

So, you're at a park and you see a fluffy duckling. You think "Oh my goodness that duck is so cute!" Unable to resist the adorable little fur ball you walk on over, reach out and pet it. Now you don't know it of course, but this really annoys the duck (you don't know this because there is no indication from the duck, it doesn't move or quack or anything). With no warning signs to deter you, you reach out and pet it again. The duck, ignoring its own impulse to snap and attempting politeness instead, turns and smiles. Again, this is deceiving because while you simply interpret the smile to mean "Aw that's really nice please continue." The duck on the other hand means it as a polite version of "Please don't do that again or I will be forced to unleash my fury."

And then it happens. Sweet kind unassuming you reaches out your hand to pet a third time and all of a sudden the fuzzy sweet creature becomes a bite-sized bit of terror. It chomps your hand with a mouth full of poison. You're shocked! You're feeling weak and confused as you slowly sink to the ground. Meanwhile the duck, realizing what its done, is quacking an apology with the same sweet eyes that drew you to it in the first place. At this point, however, a duck's apology is as much unwelcome and annoying as it is completely incoherent. The damage is already done, the poison already administered, and the trust already broken.

The moral of the story: I would rather be direct. I would rather say the first time, "Hey that really bothers me," then wound others because I wasn't brave enough to speak up. I want to learn to speak clearly or not at all, to truly learn what it means to be slow to speak. I am very sorry to all those that I have bitten. And to those who like me found venom on their tongues and in their teeth I urge you to pray with me. Pray that we will learn the importance of being honest, yes with others, but first with ourselves.

Better a little aggression than a lot of passive.

Love and healing,

Ina

Growing Up

Yesterday my aunt came to work with me to fix a plant in our building. She asked me to help hold the plant up so she could tie it to a long stick that she had placed into the soil. Those who garden are probably familiar with this process; the goal is to direct the plants growth up instead of out. For potted plants when they are healthy the stalks grow out, similar to vines, they sprawl out far beyond the edges of the pot. Imagine a teenage boy still sleeping in the same bed he did when he was 9; his feet, legs and arms dangling off the edges. The same is true for a plant, so the gardener places a long stick into the soil and ties the long branches to the stick with thread, or even strips of cotton fabric so that the plant will begin to grow upward, like a tree rather than a vine. I think you know where I'm going with this...

So while holding these branches and watching my aunt tie them, apologizing to the plant when she felt she was pulling too hard or tying too tight, I began to think of my favorite Gardener. I started to think about this process from the plants perspective. Poor unassuming plant probably thinking "HEY! What's going on here?! Why are you pulling on me like this? Who are you lady?" I thought boy do those questions sound familiar, well... most of them. I feel like I've been asking them for years now. But seeing things from this perspective changes the way you think about things. See before I knew that God was growing me upward, but now after seeing this I understand why He's growing me up. Just like the teenage boy in a child's bed, or the plant growing vine-like out of the pot God sees that I've outgrown what I'm used to. He wants to grow me up, to make sure that I'm growing towards Him.

Maybe that's what He wants for you too. Maybe you spent all last year thinking "If He loves me so much how could He allow me to hurt so much?" But maybe the pain is the product of Him directing your growth. He want's to see you thrive "not just survive," which requires diligent tending. And unlike us, He makes no mistakes. He knows how far you can bend without breaking, and every leaf and branch that He breaks off He does to protect the whole plant. Trust that He has you right where He wants you.

Green thumbs,
Ina