Today marks our 34th anniversary of being a married couple. Thirty. Four. Years.

June 5, 1982

The year doesn’t end in a “0” or a “5”…it’s not a typical “landmark” year…but we are not promised tomorrow, so I will treat this as a landmark year. #everymomentisprecious

I told David earlier this week that I believe anniversaries should be celebrated with much more passion and celebration…and craziness…than a birthday. I mean, how much trouble is it to stay alive one more year…basically it’s just breathing, eating, drinking, and staying active. Anyone can do that. No big deal.

But to stay MARRIED another year? Now…that’s a much bigger victory!!! Staying married is a BATTLE…a daily battle…especially in today’s environment.

But this man…oh my, so much to say and so little time/space…

This man…has stood by me…for richer for poorer…in sickness and in health…til’ death us do part. MAN, has that been true!!

This man…puts up with my crazy moodiness and mood swings…on the daily. And by that I mean…On. The. Daily. !!!

This man…laughs at my ridiculous humor every single day. Even when no one else gets my jokes, he does.

This man…accepts my “creative/boho/hippie spirit” which means I keep everything…EV..RY..THING…and I mean every. single. thing. Just in case i may need it for some art project or something…some day…maybe…some day…prolly never, honestly.

This man…accepts that I’m a night owl…that my sleeping schedule is totes different than his. And he’s [semi] okay with that. #hawaiitime

This man…who’s primary love language is “NOT” gifts…and mine is…goes out of his way to find some kind of special gift on special occasions that will express his love for me…even though it is literally torture for him lol

This man…is my biggest cheerleader in whatever “new” passion I’ve discovered…even though my “passions” tend to change daily.

This man…stood by my side when I faced cancer and a critical lung disease that kept me in ICU with lung failure…literally fighting for my life…fighting for my next breath…and never once doubting the best and believing for the ultimate healing that only Christ can bring.

This man…who still tells me I’m “drop-dead gorgeous”…even when I wake up with bed-hair, no makeup, morning breath, and pimples on my face (yes…adult facial-crap issues)…and I clearly am NOT gorgeous, drop-dead or otherwise.

This man…who loves our one and only son with a passion that cannot even be described or quantified.

This man…who works so hard for our body of believers (Rock Springs Church)…goes above and beyond the “call of duty” for his church family… Every. Single. Stinkin’. Day.

This man…who believes that the local church is the ONLY ANSWER to the world’s problems and screwed-up-ness! And spends EVERY SINGLE DAY searching for ways to reach just one more for Jesus.

This man…who wants to make sure that, at the end of his life he has done ALL HE CAN to reach ALL HE CAN for Jesus.

THIS…is the man I fell in love with…literally 37 years ago. #loveatfirstsight

THIS…is the man I married.#ifyouonlyknew

THIS…is the man I will spend the REST OF MY DAYS searching for ways to show how much I love him, how proud I am of him, how adorable he is…and how I will support every decision he makes.

I love you, David Bradford Ramsey. Always have. Always will.

Happy Anniversary, my silly, crazy, fantastic man!

David Bradford Ramsey…….You. Are. My. World.

Happy Anniversary, my only forever-love! ❤

 

This is a uber-condensed version of the message I brought on Mother’s Day, 2007. Hard to imagine that it’s been 9 years since then. Entering into Mother’s Day weekend, I wanted to share it with you. Enjoy! ❤

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Have you ever had to sit through the night with someone? Several years ago, a close friend of mine was on the brink of disaster as far as her marriage was concerned. She called me at about 1:00 in the morning and asked me to please come and sit with her and talk her through some things – and I went. And I sat. And I listened and cared.

Maybe you’ve sat through the night with someone like that. Five years ago, my mother and my sister sat with my grandmother through several long, hard nights, not knowing when that last night would come and go.

Or maybe you’ve kept night watch while a child was late for their curfew…or they were burning with fever…or they were worried…or they just needed to talk.

God left us with some very encouraging news through his prophet Isaiah when he said, “I am holding you by your right hand. I, the Lord your God. And I say to you, don’t be afraid, I am here to help you.” In the Message paraphrase, it says, “…I, your God, have a firm grip on you, and I’m not letting go. I’m telling you, don’t panic. I’m right here to help you.” (Isaiah 41:13)

All-nighters are exhausting! It take a lot out of you physically…emotionally. During my years as a mom, I’ve worked the night shift. And through these years, there are a few things I’ve learned.

 • When you and I are exhausted, God is not.

God never gets tired.

Psalm 121:1-2 says, “I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.”

Why would I look to mountains for help when I’ve got the One who made the mountains? It goes on to say that “He never slumbers or sleeps.” His eyelids never grow heavy…and He never sleeps.

Our inexhaustible God works the night shift. And he doesn’t fall asleep on the job. He doesn’t need sleep. He doesn’t need a nap.

Another thing I’ve learned…

• When it is all dark, God is at work.  

When my son, CD, was about 8-9 years old, he developed chronic hives. He still deals with them now and then. His whole little body would swell up with the big red patches that would itch and get hot and, at night, keep him from sleeping.

When he was 10 years old, he had a pretty severe breakout of hives. It was so bad I was afraid I was going to have to take him to the hospital. But it was really late at night. So I just gave him some medicine, sang him a couple of songs…and then I just laid down on the floor beside him and cried and prayed for him.

That was a long, dark night. I didn’t sleep at all, because even when he was sleeping, I was afraid he would wake up with his throat swollen shut or his tongue swollen so much that he couldn’t breathe… But during that long, dark night, God was at work. CD woke up hive-free the next morning.

You know, bad stuff is badder at night. But there is great comfort in knowing that God is at work all night long. 

• When you just can’t any more, God is  

There comes a time, moms, when you can’t be everything to everybody. You can’t be everything to your kids, you can’t make every decision for them, you can’t protect them, you can’t be in all places at all times, you can’t always be there to lead them down the right path…and when you can’t even…God can. He just is!

God is the self-existent One. We had to have a creator…God didn’t.

We have to have food to survive…God doesn’t.

We need electricity for energy and heat…God is His own power source.

We need a purpose…God is His own purpose.

We get sick and hurt and killed and distracted and swayed and afraid…But God is never in danger. He’s never in jeopardy. He never gets shaky. He never gets nervous.

He is the Great I Am.

Christian speaker Louie Giglio once said, “If God is the Great I Am, then I am not!”

God has no library of instruction manuals. He has complete knowledge of all the mysteries of science…zoology, meteorology, psychology, geology, chemistry, physics, medicine, genetics…you name it, God knows it.

I don’t have to know it all. I can be in the dark. In fact, the bigger I make myself, the smaller I make God. But the smaller I am, the bigger God can be in my life. And as a result, it gives me bigger faith, bigger peace, bigger joy, bigger security.

This God who is big and strong and active and moving and compassionate and alive. He sits next to you when nobody else can or nobody else will. And He is always with you, even in the dark. He is the self-existent, eternal, never-changing, sovereign God. He is indescribable. He is irresistible. He is uncontainable.

And tonight, when your tired head hits the pillow, He will be the God who is working the night shift.

And as night-shift moms, there may be some questions you ask yourself as your children grow older and eventually leave home – or maybe they’ve already left home. I know I’ve wondered these questions.

You might wonder:

Who’s going to comfort them when they can’t sleep? God says, “I am.”

Who’s going to give them peace when they’re afraid?” God says, “I am.”

Who is going to be there with good advice about choices they need to make? God says, “I am.”

Who’s going to listen to them when they need someone to talk to? God says, “I am.”

Who’s going to be there when they feel overwhelmed by life? God says, “I am.”

 

“I always have been; I always will be; because I am the God who works the night shift.”

I am a great starter! I can start things. I do really well at starting. On the other hand, I am a lousy finisher. I have so many projects in and around my house that I have started that are nowhere near finished. Goals that I start toward and I get distracted along the way. Books I haven’t read all the way through, shelves that I haven’t organized, papers I haven’t filtered through and dealt with appropriately, junk drawers that I haven’t cleaned out, rooms I haven’t painted, knitting/sewing/craft/art/etc projects that the supplies sit in bags or boxes in my office, clothes and whatnots that need to go to the Thrift Store. All sitting there undone…unfinished. The list seems endless.

It’s not a new thing with me. When I was but a wee child, maybe 5-6 years old, my mom told me to clean my room. (I have only a faint recollection of this…mainly what my mom has told me) I had toys and shoes and clothes and books and crayons (I’m sure) strung out all over my room. I worked and worked and worked for a long time…and I DID IT! I went into the living room and proudly told my mother, “It is finished. I have finished the work that you gave me to do.”

Well, as is the custom of most mothers, she accompanied me to my room and saw that, yes, indeed, everything was gone. No more toys, shoes, clothes on the floor and scattered about. It was a proud moment for us both.

And then, as is also the custom of most mothers, she [wisely] lifted the bed skirt on my bed and found that I had pushed and shoved everything under my bed. Conveniently hidden by the pink bedskirt. It was packed full of…everything. Well it wasn’t out all over the floor anymore, right?

I don’t remember what exactly happened next. I can’t remember if she made me drag it all out and actually “finish” the job I had started. I doubt very seriously that she finished “for” me. But maybe she had a bit of a laugh when she left the room and was out of my earshot.

I, as LeeAnn, and as a human being, have a problem with finishing things. And sometimes I have to humble myself and ask for help. Recently I had boxes of books and office supplies and papers from the last job I had, plus a couple of boxes of things from when I worked at the church office over 5 years ago that I just recently went and gathered together. I begged David to please come help me go through all the stuff and decide what I needed to keep and what I did not…what I needed to give away or throw away. He was a big help because he was not emotionally attached to any of the things in those boxes. He looked at it very black-and-white. And we got it done. Well, I still have one small box of things I need to deal with it at some point. (See it never ends…)

In the area of health, I need help. I need accountability to keep me on track and to help me finish and reach goals that I have. I need accountability to grow spiritually and to “finish the race” well…I can’t do it all by myself. Not effectively, anyway. And I’m not supposed to.

Really in every area of life, we all need some amount of help to finish. I love that I have friends that are good at finishing. They have a project…they do it…they stick to it until it’s done. End of story.

Through several avenues today, this Good Friday, I have been reminded again of those final words of Jesus on the cross…those very important words.

It. Is. Finished. (John 19:30)

The job that my mom gave me to do years ago (ok “decades” ago)…I did not finish. I did not carry out the instructions of my mother. I did the job half-way, I guess you could say.

But the job that God the Father gave Jesus His Son…He finished. Boom! End of story. And He didn’t need any help. He needed the companionship and fellowship and participation of His followers, but they didn’t help Him finish this epic God-request. He didn’t do the job half-way. He COMPLETELY finished the job He had been born to do. He fulfilled the whole reason that He came to earth. He was obedient to His Father.

And there, at the end of all the old things (because everything was about to be brand spanking NEW!), He told his Abba Father, “It is finished! I have finished the work that you gave me to do.”

And I am so thankful!!

This past Sunday, David brought an amazing message (as usual) and he said something to the effect of “I’m not what I think about me. I’m not what God thinks about me. I am what I think God thinks about me.” I quoted him on FB and got quite a few positive remarks about it. It hits a nerve, doesn’t it?

The first time I heard something like this, I was either a senior in high school or a college freshman. Over the holidays following Christmas, our church youth group went to Eureka Springs, Arkansas, for what they called “Christmas Challenge.” It was an awesome several-day “retreat” with concentrated Bible study and music and group teaching. We would eventually go to other locations for this retreat, but this particular one was my first…and it left an indelible mark on my heart and soul.

As usual at these types of events, the guys and girls were separated into smaller groups to get up-close-and-personal with God, led by a truly gifted group leader. In one of these groups, we girls were talking about self-image…how we see ourselves…our self-esteem or lack thereof. For anyone who knows me at all, you know that this is a battle I fight constantly. I have no idea why…but I do. So this particular subject caught my attention.

After talking with us about this, the group leader made the following statement and it rocked my world. She gave us this tongue-twisterish-sounding pearl of wisdom: “You’re not who you think you are. You’re not who others think you are. You’re who you think others think you are.” She was saying this in context to how we compare ourselves to other people…especially we girls comparing ourselves to other girls.

It made me really examine what I turned to for my self-identity. Was it my family? To a large extent, yes. Was it my mirror? Yeah, a lot of times. Was it my closest friends? Yeah, that too. But even then, I really didn’t see myself the way they saw me…I saw myself the way I THOUGHT they saw me. And that’s messed up…because we don’t really, truly know, do we?

The bad news is this: It doesn’t stop with girl-hood…it skulks along with us all the way into woman-hood. I still see myself the way I think others see me. Even this week at lunch with a friend, I said something about myself, and she stopped me and told me the truth about it/about ME…I was thinking falsely. And MAN, I appreciate friends like that!

But we as believers do the same with God. We rarely if ever see ourselves the way God sees us…which is the way to see ourselves. We aren’t really given a choice. God doesn’t give us the option to see ourselves any other way. But we do, do we not?

What we tend to do is view ourselves the way we THINK God views us. We imagine God sitting there in a big, imposing Dumbledore chair, with a big clip board or notebook and a pen, poring over our past. And as He does, He views us (we think) in one of four ways:

• A failure

With all the bad decisions and unwise choices we’ve made in our past…even as recent as yesterday…we imagine God looking at us and saying, “Oh, my. How in the world could I ever use you based on the lack of success in your life. That failed marriage. That failed business. That failed relationship. That failed project. That failed investment. That failed parenting moment. It could never happen. I need a winner!”

• A fool

Again, because of foolish decisions we make, and have made, we imagine God seeing us as the fool. “Who in their right mind would have dated that guy?” “Why did you get drunk and get pregnant?” “Why did you invest in that ‘get-rich-quick’ scheme?” “Why did you quit college just when things were starting to look up?” All of us have foolish moments and decisions in our past that we wish we could go back and undo and re-do.

• A felon

Then there are some of us who have done the unthinkable. Gone too far. Broken the law. Crossed the legal-line. Escaped the consequences of something really bad. And we’re fugitives. Or felons. We know our past is tainted with sins that are inexcusable. And that’s what we imagine God seeing when He views us. “I can’t even look at you right now. How could you? You KNEW that was wrong! You KNEW what would happen, and you did it anyway! I’m disgusted and can’t even be in the same time zone as you!” He sees all the horrible, nasty, rotten parts of us that have gotten us into heaps of trouble…and He turns away.

• A freak

And then there’s those of us who are just weird. We act strange. We talk different. We look different. Maybe there’s a disability or handicap that holds us back, slows us down, or stops us where we are. We’re clumsy, we’re not as smart as others, one nostril is bigger than the other, we’re painfully short…or painfully tall. We have a stutter…or a gimpy leg…or bad eyesight…or stunted comprehension. Maybe we just don’t get things as quickly as other people…and we see ourselves as “freaks”…and we think God does too.

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But guess what! GOD DOESN’T THINK THOSE THINGS! Don’t get me wrong; He doesn’t ignore those things about us, but He doesn’t hold them against us. And that’s not how He sees us.

Want to know how God really sees us? Well you can start by reading Psalm 139 over…and over…and over. Read it every day! In different translations. It’s not that long of a chapter. And believe me, you will encounter an enormous treasure of encouragement and truth in these words. And if we’re not really paying attention to what God thinks of us, this is a way to get a huge booster shot of it every single day.

But look at these, also. This isn’t a complete list, but it’s a list that came up during my latest study I’m doing with a group of teenage girls. Commit them to memory. Or write them on cards that you can see all the time.

This is how God sees you:

2 Corinthians 6:17-18 “I want you all for myself. I’ll be a Father to you; you’ll be sons and daughters to me.” He’s our very proud and loving Daddy.

Isaiah 60:21 “They’re the green shoot that I planted, planted with my own hands to display my glory.The runt will become a great tribe, the weakling become a strong nation. I am God. At the right time I’ll make it happen.” God wants to “show off” through us.

Isaiah 65:19 “I’ll…create my people as pure delight. I’ll take joy…take delight in my people.” He delights and finds joy in each and every one of us.

Psalm 8:5 “Yet you have made [us] a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned [us] with glory and honor.” He thinks so highly of us that He has put a crown of honor on our heads.

Ephesians 2:10 “…we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” He hand-crafted us each individually and we are precious pieces of art to Him.

Romans 8:33-34 “…who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us.” When we feel unloved or condemned or tangled with, Jesus is praying for us! PRAYING FOR US!!

Wow!!! How can you think that God would see you as a failure, or a fool, or a felon, or a freak, when you read these powerful words of God about you and me…what He thinks of us?

So my challenge to you is, stop looking at yourself the way you “think” others see you, and stop looking at yourself the way you “think” God sees you…and start looking at yourself the way God really does look at you. It’ll change everything!

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(PS…Do you find yourself looking at others around you as failures? fools? felons? freaks? If God, who has every right to look at us that way chooses to NOT, then why do we? Let’s do all we can to see others through His eyes…and love them the same way.)

Just a little over 24 hours ago, I stood and watched my son get on a plane that would take him across the state, back to his home after spending 5 days at my house for Christmas. I stood alongside my husband…I stood alongside another mom and dad sending their son home…I stood alongside a dad and his twin daughters as they sent their wife and mommy somewhere.

We all stood, watching our loved one walk through the forbidden area of security. I watched my son, CD. When someone would move in my way, where I couldn’t see him, I would skootch over until I could, taking David with me. I watched the back of his head getting farther away. I watched him as he stood there waiting to move forward in the line (David and I commented that, as he is standing in one place and waiting, he sways back and forth…just like me 😊) I watched him as he finally gathered up his personal belongings…and then I watched him until the final millisecond, when he turned a corner to where I could see him no more.

Just five days before, I also stood and watched. I stood on tiptoe in the hallway of the airport, facing the double doors of entry, behind others standing and watching, and I looked for his familiar silhouette…the familiar shape of his head…that familiar gait. And when I finally saw it, I was overcome with joy!

There have been many times that I have stood by our window or stood on our porch, watching and waiting for CD to come home from somewhere. I especially remember the day he came home after a particularly devastating break-up…and I knew that he would need to be loved on sooner than later when he drove up to the house.

My own daddy has stood and watched me most of my life. I remember him standing and watching me almost every single time I backed out of the driveway and drove down our street in my car, especially if I was going away for a while. Even now, when David and I go to visit my parents, both of them still stand outside and watch, til we are no longer visible, as we pull away from their house to go home…waving goodbye until our car is out of sight. And I kinda have a feeling that they watch with anticipation when we’re close to arriving.

When CD was just an infant, he and I loaded up in our little car and took a trip to Houston from Waco to visit my parents. My mother told me, not too long ago, that as I drove away to head back to Waco that final day, my dad got in his car and followed me until I was clearly out of town before he turned around and went back home. That’s quite a ways in Houston.

Love.

But you know, standing and watching isn’t a new thing.

I know we’ve all heard the story six ways to Sunday. But to me, it never ever gets old. I’m talking about the story of the prodigal son. You…and me…and that person you know (yes, that person) are represented in this story somewhere. So to me, it’s almost the perfect story to learn some pretty important truths…and it bears revisiting.

It’s the story of the son who came to his dad and demanded his inheritance early. The son who decided to live his own life, his own way, on his own schedule, even if it hair-lipped the pope. The son who didn’t really give a flying fig what anyone, including his very loving father, thought about what he was doing.

As his son was walking away, I’m sure the father stood and watched. I’m sure he stood there on his porch for as long as he possibly could, keeping an eye on his son until the final millisecond, when he turned a corner to where he could see him no more. I wonder if the son ever turned and waved one last time.

In his leaving and living his own way, the son loses all the inheritance, lives foolishly, comes to regret it and decides to go back home to see if his dad will just allow him to work as a servant. And the dad stands on the front porch…like he has done every single day since his son left…and, possibly standing on tiptoe, watches for him.

Looking for that familiar silhouette…looking for the familiar shape of his head…looking for that familiar gait. And then he saw him…he recognized him from a long way off. And on the first sighting of his son, at the very first sign of him coming home, what does he do?

Burn with anger? No.

Stand in judgment? No.

Cross his arms and withhold his embrace? No.

Demand an explanation? No. No. NO!

When he finally recognizes his son coming home, he is OVERCOME WITH JOY!

“My son has come home. Let’s grill some steaks…” (or tacos in our case)

So, it’s a parable. Is it true? I don’t know. Do I care? No. All I know is that it’s the story of a parent. Standing. Watching. Longing. Pounding heart. Welling eyes. Anxious, ringing hands. And a hopeful spirit.

Dads/moms have been standing and watching for centuries. And we will continue. But the greatest, most perfect Father of all time stands and watches for us. He watches us go. And He watches for us to come back. And He is overcome with joy. Just like me.

Last week was a pretty crappy week for a lot of people. Sorry if it sounds blunt or disrespectful, but it was very much completely indeed crappy. One week ago today (I’m writing this on Monday, December 7), I received terrible news from my sister that a young friend of ours (as close as family) and her husband had been killed. I was in total shock at first. I had someone I needed to call with the news, so I held it together until after I talked to him. But then…I let loose. Twenty-two years old. Their whole, entire futures ahead of them…and their lights were extinguished WAY TOO SOON!

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It was devastating and heart-breaking and wrong and…crappy!

I don’t know about you, but I’m sick to death of crying. There has been much to cry about in the Ramsey family over the last 5 years. I know that crying is cathartic and cleansing and whatever…but I’m just totes tired of it!

Most of us know that the shortest verse in the Bible is John 11:35…”Jesus wept.” I’ve known about that verse since I was a wee child. It has brought some degree of comfort to me to know that Jesus had real feelings like me. For so long I wondered, and I still sometimes find myself wondering even now, if they were real tears. I mean, Jesus is God. Jesus is holy. Jesus is above the dictates and confines of human emotions…right?? I often wondered if Jesus was “acting” sad and teary because that’s what was expected of him or to make him seem more human or if that’s what Martha and Mary needed at the time. You know, the “when in Rome” syndrome.

I decided to do some more reading and studying this week about this shortest verse in the Bible. Why did Jesus cry? If you know the whole story surrounding his breakdown, you can see why we might expect him to cry.

Martha and Mary, two very close friends of Jesus, had sent word to him that their brother, Lazarus, was extremely sick. They referred to Lazarus as “the one you [Jesus] love so very much.” (John 11:3) This is no casual relationship. Lazarus was like a brother to Jesus.

When Jesus heard about Lazarus’ illness, he said, “This sickness isn’t gonna kill Laz’…in fact, it’s gonna be an incredible display of the glory of God!” (LeeAnn paraphrase)

By the time Jesus made it to Lazarus, he’d been dead for 4 days already. But Jesus knew that. He had deliberately NOT healed Lazarus from far away (and you know he could) and had waited to show up. After a conversation with a distraught Martha and Mary (who were not only beside themselves with grief, but were a bit “put out” that Jesus hadn’t gotten there sooner), and then as he looked around at the crowd who was also mourning, he asked Mary to show him where Lazarus was. As they were walking to the tomb where he was…”Jesus wept.” Those two words actually speak volumes.

As I mentioned, it seems only natural that Jesus would weep while being in this situation…lots of crying Jews all around him, I’m sure wailing and crying out loud to God. The thing is, Jesus didn’t come to Bethany (where they lived) to mourn the passing of his very close friend…He came to raise Him from the dead. He knew that before too terribly long, all the weeping would stop…and be replaced with BIG joy! And then maybe some tearful relief…and then the worship of the God of all glory!

But just two verses earlier (John 11:33), the Bible tells us that Jesus was “greatly troubled”…another version says “an anger rose up in Him”…and then he wept. Why??

Here is what I discovered after diving into the subject:

• He cried because they cried.

Jesus truly felt compassion for those he loved that were hurting. Even though Jesus deliberately allowed Lazarus to die, and he allowed this so that He could display God’s power and glory, and he did all of this with good and merciful intentions…that doesn’t mean that Jesus took their mourning and sadness lightly. Lamentations 3:33 tells us “He [God] takes no pleasure in making life hard…” (Message)

Jesus is sympathetic. Hebrews 4:15 reminds us of this: “We don’t have a high priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all…” Right here, at the mouth of Lazarus’ tomb, we get a tiny glimpse of how our Father feels when we, His children, experience grief.

• He cried because he realized the unholy mess of sin in the world.

Death is a byproduct of sin. When Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden of Eden, forever-life was over. They were cursed to spend only a limited number of days on this earth. Jesus knew this. He knew what could have been…and it broke his heart to be reminded that sin had entered the picture…and that death was a result of it. It grieved Jesus because death had claimed almost every single person he had created (except for Enoch and Elijah…look them up.) In this story, it had taken his very close and loved friend Lazarus…and it would come for him again eventually. Jesus’ tears were a complex mix of anger at sin and the grief of loss.

• He cried because of what redemption was about to cost him.

Jesus was very soon to pay the price to purchase not only Lazarus’ resurrection, but also his forever-life. You nor I, and I doubt anyone else, can even begin to fathom the inner turmoil and distress Jesus was going through as he faced what he was facing. The stress of it would eventually cause him to sweat drops of blood. The gift of grace that Jesus was about to provide through the cross was what made Lazarus’ resurrection possible. Not a free gift, but a gift paid for by a horrific death.

Horrific doesn’t even begin to describe what he was about to face. Not only the physical horror of it…but the spiritual horror of it. Jesus, who had never known sin, was about to be completely drenched in it. I have no doubt that Jesus was looking forward to the joy that would follow, but the reality of it all was destroying him.

• He cried because he knew the consequences of the miracle that was about to take place.

Jesus knew that bringing Lazarus back from the dead was going to be the beginning of the end. It was going to be the very first domino to fall in the sequence of events that would end at the cross. The religious leaders that were there were about to go into a frenzy and finally start taking action to put Jesus to death. And He knew that giving Lazarus life was going to be guaranteeing his own death.

—–

So…when tragedy strikes…when disaster destroys…when loved ones die too soon…we can find great comfort in knowing that, in the middle of our ugly cries, the God we serve gets it. He feels it. He’s not faking it. He’s not weeping with us because it’s the right thing to do. His heart truly breaks when ours break.

But here’s the KICKER!! “The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter.” (Psalm 30:5 Msg) And when those days finally come, “He’ll wipe every tear from our eyes. Death is gone for good–tears gone, crying gone, pain gone–” (Revelation 21:4 Msg)

I. Can’t. Wait.

 

I remember exactly where I was when I heard. I remember exactly how I felt when I did. And I remember exactly what I did for the 24 hours afterwards.

I was paralyzed. I was glued to the tv for the rest of the day and deep, deep into the night. Not out of gross-interest, not as a glutton for news, but out of sheer shock and disbelief and longing to hear or see something or someone make sense out of all of it. No sense ever came. No sense has come still.

A picture from that day came across my news/social media feed today that I’m sure I’ve seen, but this one caught my attention as no other has.

It’s the picture of man, in the midst of this horrible destruction, standing in the middle of an ash – and debris-covered street. He has picked up a piece of paper that has floated to the ground from the towers. He is standing there…reading this piece of paper. As if the shock of the moment has tricked his brain into thinking it’s just another day.

That’s what we do, isn’t it? In the midst of tragedy or heartache or despair. We paralyze for a bit. Right in the big nasty hard middle of it. Not out of complacency or deliberate ignoring of the situation…just out of sheer “What the crap is going on??”

We want to go back to bed and hope when we wake up that this would have all just been a horrible dream. That everything will be back to normal (whatever that is.) But…we know that won’t work. It never has before.

I admire people that, in the midst of something really, really bad, they put their work boots on and get going. It takes me a while (if I even get there at all.) I would dare say that most of us go through those moments where we paralyze…we freeze…we stare at a tv or a medical test result or a letter or a text.

When that happens, we have choices:

We can PANIC or we can PRAY.

We can RUN or we can REST

We can ATROPHY or we can ACT.

We can WASTE AWAY or we can WALK STRONG.

We can FEAR or we can FACE it head on.

Easy choices? Oh, NO! Not easy at all. Whatever it is you find yourself dealing with, do all you can to make the right choice. The life-giving choice. The choice that honors God and shows His power to raise beauty out of ashes. (He LOVES to do that, you know!)

Yesterday, there was another picture that emerged. You’ve probably seen it. A rainbow that seemingly originates at the site of the two towers. I heard a news person this morning say, “Isn’t it amazing how Mother Nature sometimes gives us a sign?” Mother Nature? Ummm, no. God himself! (As a side, I wonder sometimes if it makes God sad that we give all his credit to someone or something else? “What kind of world do we live in where Mother Nature gets all my press?” – name that movie lol)

It’s ok to freeze up for a little bit, but don’t camp there. Trust in the one who has every one of your days safely in His hands and choose life! Choose joy! Choose action! Choose walking on and facing what’s ahead with faith and courage and determination. He’s walking with you. Every step of the way.

Yet another favorite podcast during my walk today. And yet another nugget of thought-provoking, soul-heart-searching wisdom.

Shadow missions.

I had never heard the phrase before today…and now I will never forget it.

The speaker was mainly talking to leaders…church leaders, specifically…but leaders in all capacities. He shared a story about a retreat he had attended, where the main speaker was talking about our “mission”…how we are all created with a mission. But we ALL want to know what our mission is in life. Why are we here? What are we supposed to be doing?

He went on to say that the retreat speaker said the following, which stuck with him from that day on…and now sticks with me. The speaker said this: “We all have a true mission, but we all also have a shadow mission. And if we don’t embrace our true mission, we will be tempted to center our life around a shadow mission…something that is unworthy…something that is self-centered…something that is dark.” 

I could go into lots of detail about this from a leadership point of view, based on today’s podcast, but I won’t. Instead, what this got me thinking about was how we all, even in our own personal, everyday, walking-around lives, deal with this temptation.

I admit right here in front of you…I have a shadow mission. I didn’t know to call it that until today, but I’ve got one. As a side note, I’ve always struggled with my true mission. I know my purposes as a believer…to know God and to make Him known…to love others as myself…to love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. But as far as my true God-given mission, I sometimes get a glimpse of it, but it often eludes me.

But my shadow mission is often very clear…uncomfortably clear. My shadow mission is the need to feel adequate. Simple as that. I’ve always struggled with it. Whether it’s in how I look (am I pretty enough?), my mind (am I smart enough?), my gifts (am I talented enough?), in my relationships (am I loved enough?)…etc, etc.

To that end, I can basically look at any decision I make during the day/week/month/year and see how it either supports my shadow mission or not. I often say and do things that I think will make me [seem] more adequate. I’m a stubborn character, and I will fight to the death to prove my point, which is a feeble attempt at making me [seem] more adequate.

A shadow mission is something that looks and feels like your real mission, but it’s actually an imposter. It’s the good that can easily become the enemy of the best. So, if we all have shadow missions, what’s yours?

I read about one woman who came face-to-face with her shadow mission after talking with a dear friend who had become her life coach. She said that she finally saw it. She knew her true mission was “encouraging women and helping turn God-sized dreams into reality.” But she more often found herself working to fulfill her shadow mission, which she said was, “doing things because people need me–and being needed proves my worth.”

You see the difference? Her shadow mission brought all the attention to “her.” All the applause and appreciation and affirmation made her feel important and worthy…and if she didn’t get those things, she found herself becoming resentful and bitter.

That’s what a shadow mission does: it takes the attention off of God and his will, and puts the attention onto us and OUR will.

In the podcast today, the speaker said he believes that even Jesus faced a shadow mission. Look at Matthew 26:36-39. In this passage, Jesus was facing the beginning of the end. Remember that Jesus was 100% human/100% God…the Bible says he became like us and was tempted like us in every way…but without sin. And the human side of him was wishing there was another way. His shadow mission was wishing that he could be the Leader/the Messiah…without the hellish suffering, without the cross that was coming his way. We have no way of knowing the depth of the anguish and the torture in His soul as he faced his certain and near future.

Then Jesus went with them to the olive grove called Gethsemane, and he said, “Sit here while I go over there to pray.” He took Peter and Zebedee’s two sons, James and John, and he became anguished and distressed. He told them, “My soul is crushed with grief to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

He went on a little farther and bowed with his face to the ground, praying, “My Father! If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.” (Matthew 26:36-39 NLT)

See it? See the shadow mission? Even to the cross, Jesus didn’t give in to the temptation to do it his own way. He drank the cup God had for him, to the very last drop. “Not my will, but thine be done.”

Shadow missions are sneaky and we will all cross the line into them – many times. What matters is learning how to recognize when we do and then to get back on track quickly.

Here are some ways to recognize when you’re slipping into your shadow mission:

• A shadow mission exhausts you while a true mission energizes you.

• A shadow mission comes from guilt or insecurity while a true mission comes from freedom and love.

• A shadow mission is about you, while a true mission involves you but also includes God and others.

• A shadow mission leads to resentment while a true mission lets you serve no matter the response.

• A shadow mission makes you feel more distant from God (even though you’re trying to earn his approval) while a true mission brings you closer to Him.

Once you figure out what is driving you, you can nip it in the bud and get back in line with your true mission. That’s where we all belong.

THE SACRAMENT OF PLOP

Today during my walk, I was listening to a podcast interview with one of my favorite authors. The topic of discussion was dealing with death, hardship, catastrophe, loss. And she brought up an intriguing, but eye-opening, concept.

At the risk of beating a dead horse, our family has experienced a lot of loss in the last 5 years. I won’t go into details, but suffice it to say, there were severe losses, devastations, disappointments, hurts, among other things. We’ve been in the lowest of low times…at times.

But, we all have, haven’t we? Maybe not all concentrated into the span of 5 years, but we all have dealt with and/or are dealing with some pretty rotten things.

Since I am a woman, I want to speak mainly to women, although I know that men deal with this as well. I just don’t know exactly what goes on in their heads, so I can’t speak to that. As women, though, especially here in America, and especially in the south where I grew up, women are the helpers, the caregivers, the caretakers, the motherers, the comforters, the emotional providers, the huggers, the listeners, the cryers, the understanders. We are taught by example that, when trouble comes into someone’s life, when heartache hits their heart and knocks the breath out of their lungs, we put on our big girl panties, throw on our best running shoes and we get to work. We become the doers, the busy-bees, the cleaners, the errand-runners, the meal-fixers. That’s us. That’s what we do. That’s what our moms did. That’s what our grandmoms did.

But there are two sides to that coin. When trouble comes to US…when heartache hits OUR heart…we…we…what do we do? Now others are putting on their running shoes and getting to work. Others become the doers, the cleaners, the meal-fixers. And it’s for US. It’s for OUR family.

And that’s uncomfortable. We’re not used to that. As American women, we are comfortable with the forward thrust of sucking it up and moving ahead, keeping on going even when disaster has struck. We are fixers. We are peace-makers. We are problem-solvers. So when someone else comes to help us, comes to give to us, comes to minister to us, we don’t know what to do with ourselves. Or with them.

This is where “The Sacrament of Plop” comes into play. This was the intriguing idea presented by my favorite author in the podcast, as she talked about us being the ones having casseroles brought to our doors.

Sacrament is defined as “something regarded as possessing a sacred character or mysterious significance.” 

Plop is defined as “to drop or fall with full force or direct impact.”

So the “sacrament of plop” is the sacred and mysterious and figurative (sometimes literal) act of sitting down completely, not on the edge of the seat (in case we need to get up quickly), but full force onto the biggest, comfiest couch, legs beneath us, leaning back into the cushions…to sit there and to tear up and to cry and to receive and to let others tend to us and to minister to us.

That is so very hard to do.

I was just discussing this topic with my mom on a recent visit. About how very very difficult it is to receive. To allow others to just love on us when we need it. She said she remembers years ago, after having a major surgery, how people from her church began bringing meals to their house and cards and flowers and wanting to do for them…how uncomfortable and “unnatural” that felt. Because, as she said, she had always been the one doing that for others. And here she was, suddenly on the receiving end, and didn’t feel worthy of it. It didn’t feel right.

I felt the same way when I dealt with cancer and a devastating illness…even when David had his motorcycle accident and people wanted to help with meals or cleaning our house or mowing our land or a myriad of other things. I wasn’t even the one who had been injured…but people wanted to minister and contribute and help my family.

You know, we are not really taught at an early age that it is a beautiful, blessed thing to receive love and comfort from others. We are taught to GIVE love and comfort. We are inadvertently taught that to “receive” help and comfort and assistance, in times of need or otherwise, is “shameful” or “selfish”…that we should be able to handle this and keep going. And we do that…we put on the brave face…we become the strong one…but if we’re honest, we DO need help. So much help. And it’s ok to need help. In fact, it’s vital…necessary…imperative…to need help. And to accept help. Here’s why.

There’s a very familiar verse in the Bible, Acts 20:35, that says, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” I bet anyone reading this has heard that verse. And I bet you’ve even heard someone talk about this, but I’ll say it again. The verse doesn’t say it’s ONLY a blessing to give, and not a blessing to receive. It is most definitely a blessing to receive…it’s just MORE of a blessing to give.

But, as I learned today, by receiving, you are actually giving. By gladly and openly and humbly receiving the love and help and service of others, you are giving them the gift of giving. Does that make sense? If there were no receivers, there would be no givers. Givers cannot give if the receivers will not receive. When we refuse to accept the love and help and assistance of others, we are actually robbing them of the biggest blessing…the giving blessing.

I just want this to be a reminder for all of us, all of you, who are going through something really crappy, really rough, really downright paralyzing and devastating (and if you’re not going through something now, you will…cuz it happens to us all): RECEIVE! Let others give! Practice the sacrament of plop. Sit down and let others hold you while you cry. Let others listen while you pour out your heart. Let others run errands for you. Let others bring you casseroles and flowers and chocolate. Let others LOVE you! You’ll get your turn again to do the same; don’t worry. But for now, let yourself be abundantly blessed. It’s ok.