Your Time is Not Your Own

C.S. Lewis’ book The Screwtape Letters contains a series of letters written by a demon to his nephew, advising him on how to go about tempting and deceiving his charges on earth. The book helps readers consider the myriad of ways in which evil forces work to keep us distracted from the truth of who God is and what He has done.

In one letter, Screwtape, the uncle, encourages his nephew, Wormwood, to morally assault his charge by darkening his intellect. One way to do this was to “zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption ‘My time is my own.’”

Screwtape asserted that people often grow angry when they feel that their time has been stolen from them. He encouraged Wormwood to “let him have the feeling that he starts each day as the lawful possessor of twenty-four hours. Let him feel as a grievous tax that portion of this property which he has to make over to his employers, and as a generous donation that further portion which he allows to his religious duties. But what he must never be permitted to doubt is that the total from which these deductions have been made was, in some mysterious sense, his own personal birthright.”

The Passage of Time

Time is a unique thing. Unlike money, we can’t accumulate it or multiply it. Unlike other things we attempt to control, we can’t hold it back, slow it down, or stop it. Time continues to move forward at the same rate, every second, minute, hour, and day of our life. It’s the same for everyone; we all use up an equivalent amount of time each day...

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Praying for Eyes That See

My husband returned home from work one evening and asked the kids how their day went.

One of my boys came up to him and said, "God answered our prayer!"

He and I had prayed about a little thing. A detail. We prayed for God's to work out the kid's sport's schedule so that it would be manageable and easier on the family. And he answered it right away.

A Prayer for Eyes that See

John Piper once wrote, "God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them." It's true, I am aware of little that God does in my life. I certainly notice the prayers he hasn't yet answered. I am well aware of the hard struggles in my day for which I find no relief. I even notice the heavy worry that weighs down my heart over the uncertain future.

But as I learn and grow in my prayer life, I've been asking God to show me more of those 10,000 things. I've asked him to show me more of his glory, his amazing grace toward me, and the way he works in all the details of my life.  

This isn't a strange prayer to pray. It's what the Psalmist prayed, "Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things" (Psalm 119:18). It's also what Paul prayed for the Ephesians, "that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe" (Ephesians 1:17-19). 

My prayer journal is filled with the cries of my heart. I write out pages and pages of my worries and fears, griefs and sorrows. Each day, I pen my confession of sin and express my desperate need for God's grace to cleanse me with the blood of Christ. Included on those pages are also my requests for all those things I want God to do in my life and in the life of others. Whether it is for healing or provision, restoration or salvation, I ask God to work and move in my life and in the life of others.

I can look back in my journals and see the ways God has answered my prayers over the years. As I flip through the pages of time, I am thankful for all he has done. I can see how he has not failed to provide for my family. I can see his steadfast faithfulness and daily provisions of grace.

But the answered prayer that always blows me away the most, is the prayer that I would have eyes to see his glory.

Just as his glory is wide and expansive, so too is this prayer vast in its desire and hope. This prayer asks that I would be amazed and wonder-filled at who he is and what he has done. It is a prayer that I would see God as God and myself as dependent upon his grace. It is a prayer that I would see more and more of that grace at work in my life and in the life of others. It is a prayer that I would see his sovereign hand at work in all things, from the small details to the big. It is a prayer that I would notice and be able to see more and more of those 10,000 things.

I want my eyes opened to catch his glory. 

Because the truth is, God is always watching and working. Not a bird falls to the ground apart from God's will. Even all the hairs on our head are numbered (Matthew 10:29-30). He is in control of every detail of our lives from the grand acts of healing down to the parking spot we find at the front of the grocery store. From the sun that shines overhead, to the soft pillow we rest on at night, to the people we encounter each day, God directs each and every event in our lives.

Even in my kid's sports practice schedule. 

Rejoicing in the Wonder

It doesn't end with just seeing. As I see more of his glory, then I can sing his praises and testify to others of what he has done. As the psalmist wrote, "I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds" (Psalm 77:12). "Sing to him, sing praises to him; tell of all his wondrous works!" (Psalm 105:2). Each day, as I ponder his works and meditate on what he has done, I sing his praises, rejoicing in all his works, both the grand and the small. I thank him for his steadfast love and that he cares for even the minutest details of my day. I dwell on even the hard things and thank him for his perfect discipline, shaping me to be more like his Son. And I share with others around me the amazing ways he works, testifying to his glory and grace.

This prayer is one God has not failed to answer. I am humbled and knocked to my knees as I see how much he loves and cares, provides and protects. Indeed, the more I watch and wait to see him work, the more I see of his wonder and glory. And the more I rejoice. Like the disciples who saw Jesus' glory in calming the wind and rain and said, "Who is this that even the wind and rain obey him?" I stand in awe and think, "Who is this that cares for even me?"   

When Life Isn't Fair

My boys were playing a board game one rainy afternoon. It was down to the last spin. One of my sons got the number he hoped for and crossed the finish line, winning the game. The loser stomped his feet and declared, "That's not fair! He always wins!"

My boys are not alone in their view of life. I often look at the circumstances of my life, my failed dreams, struggles and trials, and think, "It's not fair." I look at the successes of others, their achievements, adventures, and lifestyle and think, "Why them and not me?" And I wonder, why do some people seem to always win and I always lose?

I told my son when he lost the game that God intended it for a reason. I reminded him that God rules over everything, even a spinner on a game and he now had an opportunity to learn something from the loss. I also reminded him that by focusing on his loss, he missed an opportunity to rejoice with his brother and encourage him for his win.

Good advice for my own heart, wouldn't you say?

My kids often say that life isn't fair. I've told them that if life really were fair, we'd all get what we deserve—eternal death and separation from God. In fact, we don't deserve a single thing, neither life or breath or anything else. Yet God continues to let the rains come down on both the just and unjust (Matthew 5:45). He gives mercy each new morning (Lamentations 3:23). He strengthens the weary and gives peace to the anxious (Isaiah 40:29, Philippians 4:7).

But most importantly, God gives grace. "And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace" (John 1:16). It is by grace that our hearts are brought from death to life (Ephesians 2, Ezekiel 11). It is by grace that we are saved, secured and sanctified (Ephesians 2:8). And through grace, God will complete the work he began in us.

The truth is, if God treated me as I deserve, I wouldn't have a relationship with him. If God treated me fairly, he wouldn't spend so much time refining me. If God treated me based on what I earned, I would be hopeless and lost. But as the Psalmist penned, "He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities" (Psalm 103:10). Because of God's grace for me in Christ, I have a relationship with the Creator of the universe. My Maker and Creator knows me and I know him. I can come before the throne of grace and receive help in my time of need. And nothing can separate me from God's love.

I don't deserve God's love but he lavishes it upon me—what wonder!

When it comes to what God does in the lives in others and how he chooses to bless them, I have to remember that everyone has their own story. The prose God is writing in my life is for my good and his glory. He is using the circumstances, challenges, and failures in my life to transform me to be more and more like Christ. My story is different from others and I can't compare it. The individual chapters of my life may seem painful and feel unfair but woven together they form a beautiful tapestry of God's grace at work in my life. In fact, my story is included in the grand story of redemption, alongside the stories of my brothers and sisters in Christ. Rather than look at their stories in envy, I ought to rejoice at what God has done to unite our stories together.

It's true, life is unfair. But I wouldn't have it any other way. How about you?

Thoughts on Our Trip to Israel

Many have asked me about our recent trip to Israel. I usually respond with, "It was great!" or "Amazing!" But beyond that, I struggle to put my experience into words. The truth is, what I should really say when people ask is, "Overwhelming."

Yes, overwhelming. Israel overwhelmed me. All of me.

It was an assault on my senses.

The sounds of Israel overwhelmed me. The sound of a ram's horn announcing Shabbat. The sound of the Muslim call to prayer, echoing off the old city walls. The sound of bells clanging from ancient churches. Sometimes, the sounds of these three religions would occur almost simultaneously. Then there were the sounds of languages I don't understand—not only of the locals, but of pilgrims visiting from all over the world. My favorite sound was that of our voices as we sang the Doxology in an old crusader church.

Then there were the smells. The salivation-producing smell of fresh falafel. The pungent aroma of spices in the Muslim quarter like cumin, za'atar, and curry. The foul odor of sulfur in the Dead Sea. The smell of freshly caught fish on the Sea of Galilee. 

Israel overwhelmed my sense of taste as well. The taste of creamy hummus and warm pita. The taste of tangy Israeli salads served before every meal. The taste of lamb kabobs in the Arabic Christian sector of the West Bank. The sweetness of Haman's Ears on the day of Purim. 

I felt Israel physically as well. There was the feel of the uneven Roman road beneath my feet. The cool slab of stone in the Church of All Nations, where Jesus cried out to his Father in prayer. The wind blowing across my face at the top of Masada, the fortress and final holdout of Jewish rebels so long ago. The salty water tingling my skin when I floated on the Dead Sea.

Above all were the sights. My eyes beheld things I had read, studied, and heard my whole life. The sheep running across the Judean hills. The sea where Jesus walked on water and called his first disciples. The caves where David hid from Saul. The gnarled olive trees from the time of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. The muddy brown water of the Jordan River and the place where John baptized Jesus. My eyes took in the very synagogue, hillsides, and streets, where Jesus taught, walked, and healed. 

Israel overwhelmed my senses.

It also overwhelmed my mind. At every site we visited, there were archaeological and historical facts to learn. Layers and layers of facts. Just as a tel contains layers of ancient ruins, one upon another, each site held layers of stories from the time of the Cananites, the United Kingdom, the Divided Kingdom, the time of Christ, the nations which have come and gone since then (Arab and Muslim armies, the crusaders, the British Empire, etc.), and Israel's own statehood since 1948. My mind could barely contain all the information. 

Israel overwhelmed my heart. My whole life, my faith has been a spiritual thing. And it is. But it is a faith about things that took place in history. About real, physical things. Being in Israel and walking where Jesus walked, the reality of the truth that Jesus entered this world as a human and lived, died, and rose again, during a specific time in history became more real to me. It gripped me. Seeing the places where stories took place that I read about since my days of children's bibles and Sunday school flannel boards made those stories come to life like nothing else could. I stood on Mount Carmel where Elijah went against the prophets of Baal. I saw the altar Jeroboam constructed in the Northern Kingdom. I walked through Hezekiah's tunnel. I sat on the hillside where Jesus preached to the hungry thousands. I took a boat ride on the very waters where Jesus calmed the sea. I entered the gates of Jerusalem. I wept in the pit of the high priest's house, the very pit Jesus was held in after his arrest.  

Israel overwhelmed my soul. Our trip was a time of worship. At each site we read Scripture, prayed, and sang praises to God. We read Scripture in the same synagogue Jesus taught at Capernaum. We read from the Sermon on the Mount on the hill where Jesus spoke to the masses. We read the Psalms of Assent as we followed the path pilgrims took on their way to Jerusalem. We sang in churches. We sang at the site of ancient ruins. We sang deep underground at the praetorium where Jesus stood before Pilate. We danced and sang on the Sea of Galilee. And we prayed, thanking God for who he is and what he has done. 

Despite these many words I've written to describe my trip to Israel, they feel inadequate to me. When I look at them, they seem like when a young child points at an object and tries to say the word for it. There really are no words. Just an overwhelmed mind, heart, soul, and body, filled with wonder and amazement at our great and mighty God. 

So if you ask me about my trip and I respond with, "It was great!" know that there is a lot packed into that statement— more than words can say.  

Identity in Changing Seasons

Who am I? 

This is a question I've been asking myself lately. I knew who I was where we used to live. But who am I now in this new place? This new community? This new church? Who am I now that my kids need me less and less with each passing year?

Who am I?

This is a question I've asked myself numerous times in my life. When I was a teen, I asked myself this question as I looked at the other teens around me and wondered: "Who am I if I don't play sports? Who am I when everyone is categorized by what they wear, where they live, who they date, and what they look like? Who am I when I don't fit in anywhere?"

The question returned when I was newly married and I attempted to navigate the challenging questions: "Who am I as a married woman? Is my identity wrapped up in who I am married to and how good a wife I am?"

When we decided I would stop working as a counselor to stay home with our children, I wondered: "Who am I now that I can't identify myself by my work? What does it mean to be a stay-at-home mom? What happens to those gifts and skills God has given me, do they just get buried in with the pile of laundry that never dissipates?"

I know that around the corner lies even more questions, like "Who am I now that the kids are out of the house and on their own? Who am I when I can't get around like I used to? Who am I when I need other people to do things for me that I used to do for myself?"

A Secure Identity

Throughout my life, the responsibilities, roles, jobs, and commitments I make will change. They will come and go. What I do with my time in one decade will likely be different in the next. My identity can't be rooted in those things. Even a role as important as motherhood can't be how I define myself. It can't be what I rest in to give my life meaning. Because what happens when the house is empty and I'm no longer needed?  

Though I'm prone to forget, Scripture tells me who I am. It gives me an enduring meaning and purpose. It's something that will not change no matter what changes in my life or in the world around me. It won't change with my age or the season of life I am in. It won't change whether I live in this town or in another. It's not effected by what I do but it does inform what I do.

When God spoke this world into existence, He created mankind. Our first parents, Adam and Eve, were made to image God. "Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them" (Genesis 1:26-27). They were given responsibility to rule over the world God had made as His representatives. They imaged Him in their work, in their creativity, in their rest. They glorified Him in their obedience, in their relationship with one another, and in their enjoyment of being in His presence.

Then they fell into sin. They defied the one thing God told them they couldn't do. Because Adam was our representative, his action had an effect on all of us. When he fell, we all fell. We all inherit our sin nature from him. Yet even before God announced the curses upon Adam and Eve, He prefaced it with this promise, "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel" (Genesis 3:15).

Jesus is the Second Adam, the one who perfectly obeyed, and the fulfillment of that promise in Genesis 3:15. That's because He is God incarnate. "He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high" (Hebrews 1:3). Through faith in Christ and His perfect life, sacrificial death, and triumphant resurrection, we are united to Him and are adopted into God's family. Christ's obedience is given to us. Because He obeyed in our place, because we are united to Him by faith, God looks at us and accepts us. He has given us the gift of His Spirit who is even now at work in us, conforming us into the image of Christ. 

We were created as image bearers and made to reflect God's glory. Though the image was broken by the Fall, through our adoption into the family of God, we are now redeemed image bearers. That's our identity. We are "in Christ." We now live to bring Him glory. The Westminster Confession tells us that our primary purpose is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. That was Adam and Eve's purpose in the Garden and through Christ, we are enabled to once again to live out that purpose and identity.

When I wonder who I am in the various contexts and seasons of life, I have to remember this truth: I am in Christ. Whatever changes take place throughout the seasons of my life, whatever new experiences I face, I remain a child of God. I am united with Christ; I bear His image in this world. This identity gives shape to how I do the jobs, roles, and tasks God gives me. This identity informs what it looks like for me to be a wife, mother, friend, and co-worker. It defines how I serve and love others, and even how I live out the final years of my life. This identity is always with me and will be with me into eternity. "You have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him" (Romans 8:15-17).

So who am I? I am in Christ. I am God's own. I am an image bearer created to glorify and enjoy my Maker.

Traveling and Pilgrim Living

My husband and I have wanderlust. Now, before you get concerned, raise your eyebrows, and prepare to click away from this page, you should know that wanderlust means "a desire to travel."

Once, we were at the airport having just landed from a domestic flight. As we pulled our suitcases past the ticket counters for international travel, my husband looked wistfully at those standing in line and said, "I would love to just hop on the plane and head somewhere in Europe." I shook my head and laughed. 

Some of our travels take us to cities within driving distance. Others have taken us to the opposite end of the country. Still others to another country all together. We enjoy visiting large cities and small villages. We delight in touring historical sites and museums as well as hiking mountain trails and exploring national parks. We loved seeing the Eiffel Tower as much as dog sledding on a glacier in Alaska. We enjoy trying the foods unique to a culture and place. It's exciting to travel to someplace unknown and explore it for the first time.  

Our Spiritual Journey

The Apostle Peter referred to believers as sojourners and aliens (1 Peter 2:11). The author to the Hebrews described the heroes of the faith as strangers and exiles. "These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city" (Hebrews 11: 13-16). Jonathan Edwards commented on this passage: "this life ought to be so spent by us, as to be only a journey or pilgrimage towards heaven."

Spiritually, we are travelers. We are on a journey. We are merely visitors here because we belong in heaven. There are many parallels between our earthly travels and our spiritual pilgrimage. Here are just a few:

Traveling and Pilgrim Life

1. Pack lightly: I always tell my kids before we embark on a trip, "Pack your bags with what you wouldn't want to miss while we are gone. But remember, you have to lug it around yourself." Anyone who has traveled knows how much easier a trip is if you don't have to drag multiple bags around a city. On our first trip to Europe, we got lost searching for our hotel in London. Our suitcases were huge and we dragged them up and down streets, searching for the hotel (they didn't have the spinning wheels to make it easier). The longer we walked, the farther I trailed behind my husband. When we finally got to our room, we promptly fell asleep (breaking the big rule of travel—always conform to the time zone you are in).

Baggage in our spiritual journey will weigh us down as well. In the beginning of the classic allegorical tale, Pilgrim's Progress, Christian gets stuck in the Slough of Despond. He was weighed down by his sins (a weight titled "Burden," which he carried on his back) and the guilt over those sins, so much so that he sunk into the slough. Later in his journey, Christian came to the cross and that's when he finally dropped his Burden. Paul says, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1).

We lay our sins and burdens at the cross of Jesus as we appropriate what he did for us in his life, death, and resurrection. Christ has set us free from all our burdens. "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

2. Nothing goes as planned: One of the things I most looked forward to in Scotland was exploring the Highlands. We rented a car, got trail advice from a local, and promptly drove off to find a hiking trail. We made it less than a mile before we got into an accident (something to do with having to drive on the opposite side of the road and all). The rental company wouldn't let us rent another car. So no hiking in the Highlands for us. 

Another time we were in Nicaragua and headed back to the airport. It was a two hour drive down a rural dirt road. Our driver only spoke Spanish and ours is minimal at best. Midway through the journey, we broke down on the side of the road. Talk about nothing going as planned!

Our journey in life rarely goes as planned. How often do we begin our day only to look back on it at the end of the day and realize how little we accomplished on our to-do lists? "The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps" (Proverbs 16:9). In fact, God often interrupts our plans to help us grow in faith as we learn to depend more and more upon him and his grace. "Therefore I will hedge up her way with thorns, and I will build a wall against her, so that she cannot find her paths. She shall pursue her lovers but not overtake them, and she shall seek them but shall not find them. Then she shall say, ‘I will go and return to my first husband, for it was better for me then than now" (Hosea 2:6-8). Obstacles block our path. Unexpected twists and turns delay us. Sometimes we have to make u-turns and start over. The good news is that God governs it all for his glory and our good (Romans 8:28). 

3.  A guide is helpful: We've used local tour guides a few times to help us navigate unfamiliar cities. A guide drove us up the famed Lombard Street in San Francisco. Another walked us through the WWII sites of Northern France. But our favorite tour was through the city of Paris. Our guide took us on a walking tour of each neighborhood, explaining the history and pointing out important sites. She helped us learn the transportation system and told us the best places to eat. The tour prepared us for going out on our own the next day.

As believers, we all need guides, mentors that lead us through unfamiliar terrain. We need those with spiritual wisdom who can lead us in our journey as pilgrims. That's what Titus 2 is all about, "Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled" (2:3-5). We need other believers who have walked the path before us, to disciple us in God's truth and spur us on in the faith. After all, they know what it's like to lose jobs, to struggle in marriage, to have prodigal children, to have doubts and fears. Spiritual mentors know what it's like to cling to the gospel when nothing makes sense; their wisdom is essential to our journey as pilgrims.

4. As fun as traveling is, there are always reminders that it's not home: Everyone knows what it feels like to return home to your own bed and realize how much better you sleep there. My husband and I were recently in NYC and remarked on how loud it was. The incessant honking was aggravating. The long lines reminded us of waiting for a ride at Disney. As much as we loved our time exploring the city, we were happy to return to our more sedate home and life—and favorite pillows! Though we enjoyed visiting, we just didn't belong there.

Much in our pilgrim journey will remind us we are not at home. Sin, sickness, brokenness, and grief remind us on a daily basis that we don't belong here. We were made for something more and someplace better. Just as our body knows it's not lying on our bed at home, our souls know we are not where we belong. "For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come" (Hebrews 13:14). These reminders keep us from growing roots that cling to this world. Instead, we need set our minds on things above. "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth" (Colossians 3:1-2).

5. No matter how much you try not to look like a tourist, you still stand out: When we lived in Florida, we could spot a tourist at the beach without any effort. They were pale and arrived at the beach like they were moving in, with bags and bags of gear. They were also the only ones who went into the water in the wintertime.

My husband and I try hard to fit in and look like we know what we are doing while traveling but inevitably we give up and stop someone to ask for directions. While touring around Boston last year, we got lost on the train system. We asked an attendant for directions. In her thick Boston accent she said, "You aren't from here are you?" (Was it that obvious?) "No," we smiled. "We're from Florida."

Those who believe in Christ will inevitably stand out in this world. We have to because we represent something and Someone different than the world around us. Our accent is different because we speak God's word stored in our hearts. Our clothing is different because we are robed in Christ's righteousness. The work we do is different because we work to please our Maker first and foremost. We'll even look different because the glory of God shines on us and we reflect those rays in greater brilliance the longer we know him. And all of this is to have an impact in the world in which we live, "Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation" (1 Peter 2:22).

As believers, we are strangers and aliens in this world. We are citizens of heaven, "But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ" (Philippians 3:20). Our life on earth is a journey to the Celestial City, to our home, the place where we belong. 

Are there any other comparisons you've experienced between traveling and your life as a pilgrim?