a time for everything

And everything in its time. . . 

Sometimes we outgrow the soil God plants us in, and He must transplant us into other soil better suited for our growth. A dear friend shared that with me recently.

Since my last post, a great deal has occurred in the geographical sphere of my life. Due to many contributing factors, we have to move and relocate back into my parents' home.

I was grieving the path my family's life was turning towards, refusing to admit that it could have anything beneficial in store for my family. She became a valiant, humble, and faithful prayer warrior for me, covering my marriage, motherhood, and academic responsibilities in prayers for wisdom, discernment, and encouragement no matter what God's will has in store. When the fullness of this illustration hit me (which I confess was not the same day she sent it to me, but in fact came a full 48 hours, one argument with my husband, and a full-fledged southern-girl crying fit later), my tender Heavenly Father brought me to this Psalm: 

"He brought me out into a spacious place;
   he rescued me because he delighted in me."  ~~ Psalm 18:19 

I do not get to determine what is "spacious" for me. It is arrogant to assume that we know better than God what spacious soil is for us, or even if we ourselves are fertile soil to His Word. The Creator of all there was, and is, and yet to come determines all of that. The illustration my friend sent me has caused me to recall the many years I've watched my mother spend tending her garden. Countless hours she toiled over dirt and seeds and little green sprouts, tirelessly coaching them through the stages of growth in preparation for their season of bloom and harvest. The seedlings were certainly safe in the confines of her little patio greenhouse, in the little boxes in which she planted them, where the scorching sun couldn't burn them or relentless rain drown them. However, no matter how safe, no matter desirable the conditions were, they needed the very things that could kill them because most of all, they needed room to grow. They weren't meant for safe, little plastic trays. They were meant for spacious places to take root so they could grow, flourish, and bear fruit.

 

I've watched her transplant her little green sprouts into gradually larger containers, thinning out clusters of the little things so they could thrive and not strangle each other. Some plants survived the transplantation and thinning out process - our respective tomato gardens are a living illustration! Many cherry tomato plants this spring survived the transplanting down at my house. Not many of hers survived. Bowlfuls of tomatoes compared to the half-dozen or less hers has produced. We have laughed at the difference a little dirt can make.

My life this year has been a transplanting process. I've been brought out of safety, transplanted into different soil to grow, and now its time to be transplanted again - back into the very soil my loving Heavenly Father uprooted me from. It's painful. My Creator and faithful Gardener has thinned out my life, removing the things and people that strangle my joy and peace with pride, greed, and fake Christianity to reveal exactly what soil conditions are required for my growth so that my life - not my own efforts or my words - bear fruit for the Lord Jesus. 

I have learned how to abide in the arms of my Savior Jesus when the sun threatens to burn me alive, the cold threatens to stop my heart, and the rain threatens to fill my lungs and drown me in misery. I've learned how to breathe Him in when I can't breathe for myself. I've learned how to pray for His heart when my flesh screams to be heard and put someone in their place. I've learned how to serve and love the very people that have shattered my heart over and over again. I've learned how to line up my expectations with my reality so I can serve and love people unburdened by crushing disappointment. 

The most beautiful thing I have acquired though isn't wisdom, discernment, or Biblical history t. It isn't the knowledge my collegiate transcript testifies to, or the battles I have fought and won with my health. It isn't "surviving singleness" and finally getting married. I have been journaling many years now, and for approximately the last year or so my closing prayers include a petition: a heart more like Jesus tomorrow than today. Little did I know what was growing inside me. . .

While I could spend hours sharing my experiences of God's provision, what brings me to tears is the opportunities I've had to share how I have managed to stay afloat amidst numerous emotional trials in my relationships with people: a heart like Jesus. Only the One that died for me is able to come into my heart, heal all the wounds, and love people despite the mountains of reasons not to. Only, only, only Jesus. The little seed my prayers planted inside of me has grown and caused me to have to be transplanted time and time again. And now that I'm aware of what has enabled me to endure and love anyway is His love inside me, it now follows that it is time to be transplanted again so I don't overgrow my little pot and suffocate in complacency and comfort. I have to be planted in a spacious place, in specific place, to grow and glorify my Lord and Savior. 

Someday my growth process may not be so visual. Someday my husband will have a home of our own, and "transplantation" will not include cardboard boxes and packing tape. Until then, I have finished fighting, resisting, and crying like I've been doing. Fighting what is necessary is frustrating and futile. It's like standing on an escalator and refusing to look at the disappearing steps approaching. It robs me of peace. And I want peace, I need peace like I need oxygen. I need my Jesus. 

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. 

~~Philippians 4:11-13

being still

My husband has been busy these past few days with employment opportunities. Suddenly the landscape of available jobs is no longer sparse and dry, but showing signs of lushness and life. He had an interview yesterday, and is following up on three establishments today which he had called yesterday. It's been so hard for him this year going on interview after interview. We've been praying for God's best, however. And His best isn't just laying around, easy to come by. God's best is special. Set apart. If finding His best were easy, we wouldn't need Him because we could find it on our own. Finding things on our own, through independent endeavors and striving in our own strength, is opposite of the relationship our Heavenly Father desires to have with us.

The New International Version of the Holy Bible is the most published version of the Bible in the world. Most everyone has seen the first line of Psalm 46:10 on hospital walls, email signatures, or Facebook posts. It says "Be still and know that I am God." Stillness is the physical act of not moving. An online dictionary gives the following definitions:

1. remaining in place or at rest; motionless; stationary: to stand still.

2. free from sound or noise, as a place or persons; silent: to keep still about a matter.

3. subdued or low in sound; hushed: a still, small voice.

 

I've often quoted Psalm 46:10 in my head when I catch myself in all my Type-A-single-mom-psychosis-control-freak glory, tirelessly trying to manipulate my circumstances to get something accomplished. I then move myself to my knees, tirelessly praying, my mind and spirit all aflurry. There is absolutely nothing wrong with praying frustrations out. Yet what I was doing was turning my physical striving outside-in, and internalizing all that activity. I had the appearance of stillness, but on the inside, I was striving nonetheless.

Yesterday hubbz and I were trying hard not to let Satan enslave our minds and hearts with discouragement. Our conversation led us to recalling the image of Jesus walking on the water in the storm, reaching out to Peter to join him. Instead of sinking in the world's sea of worry and doubt, we chose to stare our Savior's feet, where the water still beneath Him, and keep our gaze where He is, not on the tumultuous waves around us. No matter how crazy it seems. No matter how zealously evil tries to sell us fear and anxiety about our finances, even through well-intentioned friends and family. Jesus asked Peter for blind faith. The faith Peter showed by stepping out of the boat would never have been manifested if the waters were calmer. Faith in the storm lays a firm foundation in our memory so when future storms arise, we can recall His love, faithfulness, strength, and provision. Without faith like Peter exemplified in His first step out of the boat and the focus he kept on his Savior, we will inevitably sink like he did in the waters of turmoil beneath our feet.  (see Matthew 14:22-33 )

I love the New American Standard Bible. A dear friend in my womens' Lifegroup (i.e. Sunday School class) described the feeling it gave me perfectly: "It sings to you." Indeed it does. The NASB version of Psalm 46:10 gives a vibrant picture of God's call to our hearts.

"Cease striving and know that I am God"

Ceasing to strive calls my spirit to be still. How often have we sat in a room of crowded people still and silent, but were actually screaming on the inside? Oh, how I've been there. . .

In less than 30 days, our financial position will be considerably less precarious due to my financial aid refund from my university. I've been in this position before, too. In January of this year, I found myself in the midst of a storm trying not to take my eyes off Jesus and sink in the waters below me that were thirsting for my defeat, with a mere 30 days between where I stood and relief from the burdens I carried. All Jesus wanted me to do then was give my burdens to Him. I did then out of survival and the Lord took care of me and the yoke of Christ was indeed a much lighter load to bear. So now, hubbz and I find it easier to cast our cares upon Him (1 Peter 5:7 and Psalm 55:22 ), decide to be still in our efforts, and choose to cease striving in our spirits. It makes no sense to the world and the people we know that don't know Jesus. In fact, it drives them crazy with speculation and judgement. Quite honestly, we don't really care what they think. As long as our Father in Heaven is honored, we have little use for worldly views of success and failure. Our family of believers hug us and pray for us and give us priceless words of encouragement and affirmation, while we all watch God rain down manna from the heavens and meet our every need. All His love and the love He sends through His other children in Christ make it so easy to be at peace and still before Him inside and out.

Thank you Father, for your Son. Being still in this storm would be impossible without Him. Amen.