Trust in the Face of Change

One thing I’ve learned about life is that once you get used to a particular season or role, life changes. I’ve found this to be true in parenting, marriage, work, and ministry. I remember well how hard it was when my boys dropped their afternoon naps. That was a change I didn’t like at all!

I used to resist change. Or at least try to manage it so that I could know what to expect and prepare for it. I guess it’s because there’s a certain degree of comfort when you think you know what lies ahead. When you feel equipped to face the day because it’s the same as the one before it. When you’ve finally reached a level of confidence in how to do a certain job or task. Yet change inevitably cuts into our life with a harsh reminder that we don’t have control over our lives. For we all too quickly forget that we are dependent upon God and need his rescuing grace.

I’m in the middle season of life, a season filled with constant change. Certainly, there are many physical changes (that’s a whole other blog post!). There are changes in motherhood as I increasingly let go of my duties and watch my children learn to fly on their own. There are changes in marriage as my husband and I find more time and opportunity to focus on our relationship in ways we haven’t for far too long. Some changes are good and bring great joy; others are hard and bring only grief and sorrow.

This year is my oldest son’s senior year. It’s a year of lasts: the last cross country race, last birthday at home, last school events, last holidays. It’s also our last year to pour into his heart all the things we want him to know before he’s unleashed into the world to make his own way. It’s an emotional year for me, a year filled with both grief and joy. Grief at the finality of this season of parenting, the ending of all these years of homeschooling, the ending of all the daily interactions and family life I’ve grown so used to these last seventeen plus years. But there’s joy too as I celebrate with him the fruition of all he’s worked so hard for. It’s a joy to engage with him as a young adult and talk together about his future. I’ve enjoyed watching him think through decisions and develop goals for his life.

Meanwhile, this past fall my father was diagnosed with dementia. Like most diagnoses, this one took us by surprise and flipped my parents’ life upside down. Dementia is a disease that is often referred to as the “Long Goodbye.” I now know why that is. The diagnosis has brought with it grief and sorrow, worry and fear. I’ve found myself in a new role, helping my family navigate it and serving them in whatever way I can. As anyone in this middle stage of life can attest, it’s challenging to care for the needs of your family at home, while also wanting to help your parents who live far away.

In the midst of these changes in my life, I continue to work in discipleship ministry for women—writing, speaking, discipling, and coordinating women’s ministry. I’ve also been developing a lay- counseling/discipleship/one-another-care ministry for women at my church and am excited to see the many months of labor finally come together. While I’m excited to serve the Lord in this way, I feel a profound sense of my weakness. I worry about getting it wrong. I fear letting people down. I feel uncertainty and a weight of responsibility. This change too is another one where I feel my desperate need for God’s grace to equip and sustain me.

While much changes in our lives, from season to season, in our roles and in our labors, one thing remains the same: God never changes. He is the constant in all the unknown. He is the steady horizon when the storms of life swell over us. When everything is chaos, when we are filled with fear or sorrow, our God is with us. When we fill ill equipped to a new task or overwhelmed by uncertainty and lack of knowledge, we can turn to Christ, in whom are found all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge (Col. 2:3). We can take comfort in our Lord’s providential care for us and his sovereign rule over all things. While we don’t know what the future holds, we can trust that God not only knows what will take place, he has already determined all that will happen. Though we are weak, we can rest in his strength. As we face the changes and transitions of life, we can be confident that the Lord is at work. He will be our refuge.

I often find comfort in the words of the psalmist, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling” (Ps. 46:1-3). Some events in life feel like our whole world is shifting. It feels like it’s the end of life as we know it. The psalmist reminds me that even if the earth were to give way, even if the mountains were to fall into the sea, God remains our refuge and strength. He is our help and hope.

Dear friends, if you find that your own life is in the midst of transition and change, trust God to meet you where you are with his rescuing love and grace. He is our certain hope in all the uncertainty of life.

For Those Prone to Forget

I recently got up and proceeded to get ready for the day, preparing to take my son to school. As I gathered my purse and keys, I called for him, “Are you ready to go?”

He came into the kitchen, still dressed in pj’s. “Mom, it’s Good Friday. I don’t have school today.”

Sigh. Oh, yeah.

I am increasingly forgetful. So much so, I have monthly, weekly, and daily lists to remind me of where I need to go and what I need to do. Apparently, even those aren’t sufficient for me to remember my son has a day off from school.

I don’t know about you, but I am also spiritually forgetful. I go about my day as though my life depends on me. I labor in my own strength. I put my trust in methods, plans, and to-do lists. I fret and worry and fear in the face of challenges and unexpected circumstances. I often feel overwhelmed and ill-equipped. In all these ways and more, I forget the power at work in me. I forget the gospel and its significance, not only for salvation, but for daily life and growth in grace.

The Apostle Peter wrote a letter to a group of believers, reminding them of the gospel and its power to transform them. He reminded them they’ve been given everything they need to live a godly life, “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire” (2 Peter 1:3-4). Friends, this is huge! Did you catch that? God has given us all things that pertain to life and godliness. All things!

He did this through the work of Christ on our behalf, who through his perfect life, sacrificial death, and triumphant resurrection, secured for us all the promises of God. Through faith in Christ, we are united to him. We have the very Spirit of Christ living within us, making us partakers of the divine nature. That word, partakers, in the Greek is koinónos. It means mutual fellowship, sharer, partner. We share in God’s nature as we become increasingly more like Christ, through the power of his Spirit at work in us.

Peter then goes on to describe what it looks like to grow more and more like Christ (vv.5-7). These are qualities that characterize sharing in the divine nature. They are the natural outworking of the Spirit’s power in and through us. These qualities help us bear fruit for the Kingdom (v.8). These are not characteristics that save us; rather, they are produced in us by the Spirit as we live out the realities of our salvation in Christ.

• virtue

• knowledge

• self-control

• steadfastness

• godliness

• brotherly affection

• love

He then cautions, “For whoever lacks these qualities is so nearsighted that he is blind, having forgotten that he was cleansed from his former sins” (v.9). Peter could refer here to those who verbally expressed faith in Christ but did not have a transformed heart. Or he could refer to true Christians who have wandered from the truth. Either way, such forgetfulness is serious. Friends, it is crucial that we remember our salvation. The good news of the gospel is that not only are we saved by grace, but we are also transformed by grace. God calls us to grow in the likeness of Christ and then he provides us all we need to do so. Amazing grace!

When we find ourselves living life apart from the gospel; when we find ourselves living as though everything is up to us and our own strength, wisdom, and power; when we find ourselves stagnant in our growth in godliness; we need to remember the gospel which saved us. We need to remember the promises of God for us in Christ: We are his children (Jn. 1:12); He will make us like the Son (1 Jn 3:2); He will persevere us to the end (Phil. 1:6); We have an inheritance in heaven (1 Pet. 1:4), among many others.

Forgetting what day it is (an all too often problem for me!) is a challenge. Forgetting an appointment is problematic. Forgetting the one thing you went to the grocery store to pick up is annoying. But forgetting what Christ has done for us in the gospel is far worse. May we go to great lengths to remember and rehearse the truths of the gospel each day, relishing in the truth that God has given us everything we need to live for him.

Everyday Faithfulness in Seasons of Waiting

The year was 1943. My grandparents were married only a few months when my grandfather joined the Army to fight in WWII.

Over the course of that year, my grandfather would travel to bases in VA and GA to complete his training before heading overseas to Europe where he would eventually receive orders to head to the beaches of Normandy in June of the following year. A technical problem would delay him by a day or two, protecting his life and ultimately, that of my own. For my grandmother, the year of 1943 was a year of waiting. Waiting for letters from my grandfather, waiting to hear where he was and what he was doing, and like the rest of the nation, waiting for the war to end.

I know all this because when I visited my parents this summer, my dad gave me my grandmother’s diary from 1943. It’s small and fits in the palm of my hand. Rather than a journal used to document one’s thoughts and feelings, this diary was used to jot down the events of the day. My grandmother did just that, writing down what she did each day the year of 1943. And what stood out to me the most is the mundane nature of life, even in the midst of war, even while waiting for news from my grandfather. Mundane things like: cooking, cleaning, and ironing, walking down to the country store for groceries (they didn’t own a car and even after they did, my grandmother never learned to drive), going to the beauty parlor, visiting with family and friends, worshipping at church, and signing up new Army recruits at the local schoolhouse.

And writing letters each day to my grandfather—many of which we still have.

As I read through the diary, through the lists of tasks and activities accomplished each day, it reminded me how much of life is filled with mundane duties and tasks. Everyday things. Errands and chores. Necessary duties of life.

Even while waiting. Even in the midst of crisis.

I tend to freeze in the face of uncertainty. I tend to push pause until I know what the future holds. I tend to zero in on the crisis and forget everything else. But life is made up of daily acts of faithfulness. Of doing what needs to be done. Of living out our callings each day. We don’t know what the future holds. We are called to glorify God this day. We are called to live for him and his glory in all that we do, even in the daily, everyday activities of life (1 Cor. 10:31, Col. 3:17).

In the spring of 1943, my grandmother wrote that she planted a garden in the yard. Growing up, my grandparents always had a garden. To this day, the best watermelon I’ve tasted came from their backyard. The act of planting a garden is one of sowing seeds of hope. The gardener does not know what will come of those seeds. She does not even know if she will be there come the harvest. She plants them anyway and each day tends to that garden. Whatever the weather or circumstances, she waters and pulls weeds and checks for harmful insects. In our own lives, we too need to till the soil of life, plant seeds, water them, and wait for God to produce the fruit. Whether we are looking for a job, laboring for restoration in a relationship, or praying for a crisis to come to an end, we need to do the daily work of life—all to the glorify God.

My grandmother’s little journal from 1943 challenged me in 2020 to remember that whatever I am waiting for, whatever the unknown future holds, whatever crisis surrounds me, I need to continue forward, doing the next thing, for the glory of God.

Making Plans, the Future, and Hope in Eternity

“It’s hard not having something to look forward to,” I recently remarked to my husband.

In this strange new time in which we live, we’ve quickly learned that any plans we make must be held loosely. As someone who loves to make plans and work hard toward those plans, this is a challenge for me. Whether it is a family vacation, a ministry event, family gathering, or prepping for the next school year, every plan I make is subject to change due to this ever-changing pandemic. While I’ve always known that I have to hold plans loosely, after all it is God who directs my steps regardless of what I plan (Proverbs 16:9), I’ve seldom lived as though it is true. I make plans and work toward them with the expectation they will likely come to fruition, or at least some version of them will.

But these days, plans are held much loosely than ever before. And as a result, I realize more and more how much hope I place in my plans.

Don’t get me wrong. Making plans or setting goals is not a wrong thing. If we didn’t make plans and didn’t work toward something, we’d not be living out our purpose as image bearers and Kingdom cultivators. If the farmer didn’t look ahead to the next season, he wouldn’t plant seeds and tend to them. He also wouldn’t have anything to eat come harvest time.

Setting goals, planning for the future, and working toward that future are all necessary. I think for me, the challenge is in realizing how much hope I put into that future. How much the idea of that future shapes my present. How my plans and goals define me and give my life meaning. And more, how much I NEED to have that thing to look forward to.

Without any big things to look forward to, I find my heart wandering and seeking to refill that gap. I find myself looking for something, anything to plan and set a goal for. My husband called me the other day from work and asked what I was doing. “Browsing online for a house in the mountains for when we are empty-nesters,” I responded.

Ouch. As I spoke those words aloud, I realized I was chasing an idol. I was looking for something to fill the void all my cancelled plans had left behind.

The Spirit is gentle yet firm with me. It’s no coincidence I am reading through Isaiah right now, a book filled with examples of Israel’s idolatry and the Lord’s compelling call for them to repent and return back to himself. As I read the prophet’s words, I am reminded of how weak and meaningless my idols are (Isaiah 57:13), how they cannot save, rescue, or redeem. I’m also reminded of Calvin’s observations that our hearts are like idol making factories: Remove one, and another takes its place.

But that longing for something in the future, that longing to have something to look forward to, that is an important longing I cannot ignore. That longing is like a shadow of the real thing. Too often, I look to the shadow as the substance. In truth, it can’t even compare. Instead of focusing on what I miss right now, what I can’t have, or can’t do, or can’t plan for, I need to look beyond the temporal future and into eternity.

There is a future ahead for me that I can live for and plan for and wait for with great expectation and hope. It is a certain future far more grand than any vacation I could imagine. It is a future filled with far more meaning and significance than anything I might fill my calendar with on a daily basis. This future that will one day blow away the joy I might miss right now from not being with friends and family or pursuing an important goal or dream. For this future is more than I could ever dream.

“For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem to be a joy, and her people to be a gladness. I will rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress” (Isaiah 65:17-19).

This weird in-between time as we wait for the pandemic to get under control is a reminder that we live in-between the already and not yet of our faith being made sight. We live in a world that is not our home while we wait for our eternal home with Christ. It’s a difficult tension at times, being in the world but not of it. It’s hard to remember that the joys we experience now are not the end themselves, but only a foretaste of what is to come. The harsh truth is that the more we are rooted in this world, the harder it is to ready ourselves for the one to come.

As the Lord shines a light on the idols of my heart, I am thankful for his grace and mercy. As I repent and pray for a transformed heart, I also pray for his grace to live faithfully for him, not only in the midst of this pandemic, but also as I wait for eternity to come.

Father, forgive me for seeking life and hope outside of you. Help me to find in you all I long for and desire. Fill my thirst and satisfy my soul in Christ. Ready and prepare me for my future in glory. May I live faithfully in the present, all the while looking to the future with great anticipation and joy. In Jesus’s name, amen.

A Witness to Life

Being homebound this spring found me outside in the warm afternoon sun. I’d set up my camping chair in the front yard, plop down, and read a book. Like everyone else, being stuck at home meant that life had slowed way down. Almost to a standstill.

As a result, I saw things I was too busy to see before.

That’s because my typical day is filled with driving. I drop off and pick up my children all throughout the day and into the evening. They take classes at hybrid model schools so their schedules vary from day to day. In addition, they participate in sports and other extra curriculars, including youth group. The past couple of years, I’ve considered myself their personal Uber driver. In addition to my job as chauffeur, my days were filled with writing and ministry duties, as well as all those responsibilities required to keep a household running.

And then everything came to a halt and I sat in my chair in the front yard.

And I saw life unfold before me.

Tree buds unfurled into green leaves. Flowers bloomed and fragranced my yard. Birds chirped and swooped over head. On one particular afternoon, a frog hopped over my foot, a chipmunk popped out of its hole to engage me in a staring contest, and a rabbit munched on an afternoon snack. I then watched a woodpecker climb the tree trunk in front of me, while courting Cardinals danced above me in the sky. All of this life, just in my little front yard!

It made me wonder, how much do I miss when my day is filled with to-do lists and errands? How much life do I miss when I run from one thing to the next? And not just life in God’s creation, but what about spiritual life? What opportunities do I miss to minister life to others and receive life from them in return? What life might I miss growing in the heart’s of my children? What life might I miss from not being in communion with the Lord?

I’ve heard others say they don’t want life to return to the level of intensity it was before this crisis began. I agree. I’ve enjoyed and treasured the talks I’ve had with friends, whether virtually or six feet apart on the walking trail. I’ve loved having dinner as a family together every night. I’ve enjoyed sweet fellowship with the Lord as I’ve lingered long over morning coffee with my Bible and journal in hand.

One thing I realized as I sat in my yard and witnessed God’s creation is that life is always going on, whether I notice it or not. God is always at work, showering his grace upon me and those around me. But when I’m too busy to notice, I miss out on the opportunity to be encouraged by that grace, to grow in my faith as a response to witnessing that grace, and to rejoice and glorify God for his generosity in giving his grace.

Too often, busyness keeps me from witnessing God’s glorious works and giving him the honor he is due.

If there’s one thing I want to take away from this unprecedented experience of pushing pause on life, I want to be intentional with what I do with my time. I want to make life a priority, not tasks. I want to make people my primary concern, not crossing items off a to-do list. I want my eyes wide open to view God’s grace in bringing life to dead places. Just as I did in my front yard, I want to see spring blossom in people.

I want to witness and testify to life.

My Awkward Dance with Time

Time and I have always performed a kind of awkward dance together.

Too often, I try to lead. I try to push time forward—some call it future-tripping. When I was a teen, I couldn’t wait to leave home and attend college. When I was in college, I looked forward to getting married. When my kids were little, I thought “I can’t wait until he can sleep through the night…stop needing diapers…clean up after himself…”

Since I hit forty a few years ago—okay, five years ago—I’ve wanted time to slow down. Pause. Stop altogether. But instead, it seems to be on a downhill slide. Everything they say that happens to your body after you turn forty is true. My skin has turned treasonous. I pull muscles for no apparent reason. I have both a space heater and an additional air conditioner next to my side of the bed. Sometimes I use them both at the same time. You can laugh; my doctor did.

And I keep hearing that old Steve Miller Band song, “Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future...”

When my kids were young, older women would tell me to treasure that time with them, because before I knew it, they would be grown. Even now, as I grumble about my life as a chauffeur and look forward to my oldest getting his license, older moms tell me how they long to return to the days of driving their children from place to place. The saying is true, “the days are long, the years short.”

Midlife is a strange season and one I find difficult to adjust to. I’m smack dab in the middle of life. It’s as though I stand on a timeline, where all the years to one side of me are that of my youth and everything ahead of me is that of aging. All the decades leading up to where I now stand were focused on achieving and gaining. Acquiring. Adding. When I look forward, life seems more about losing. Children take flight. Houses get smaller. Work becomes less, health elusive.

But at the same time, I feel more comfortable with who I am than I ever did in my youth. I have a sweet and tender relationship with the Lord that developed through time and experience. While in my younger days, I had a head knowledge of God’s love and faithfulness, I’ve since seen him work in countless ways and now know with certainty it is true. The prayer life I now have, I wouldn’t trade it for the one I had in my 20’s. The trust and dependency I’ve learned through trial and hardship is one I wish my younger self knew—rather than trusting in myself, plans, and systems to make life work.

Moses also knew how fast time flies, how our life is but a breath. He wrote in Psalm 90: “For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away” (vv. 9-10). John Calvin commented: “men foolishly glory in their excellence, since, whether they will or no, they are constrained to look to the time to come. And as soon as they open their eyes, they see that they are dragged and carried forward to death with rapid haste, and that their excellence is every moment vanishing away.” I can relate to that “rapid haste” Calvin refers to. Though I know time moves forward in the exact same rate, moment after moment, day after day, it somehow feels faster these days. My kids seem to grow an inch a week. More and more they stretch their wings. They now find themselves where I once was: looking forward to greater freedom and life on their own.

Moses then prayed, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (v.12). It is wisdom to consider the brevity of life. It is wisdom to pause and look backward to realize all you have learned and then forward to see the finish line closer than it was before. But in so doing, not to panic and fear the death that is to come; rather, to focus the days we have left on living for God’s glory. For those who are in Christ know there is more to come in eternity where time will no longer be of consequence.

In my dance with time, I’ve learned that I can’t lead; it’s not my place to do so. Rather, I must follow the steps marked out for me. I must move forward, keeping along with time’s set rhythm. If I pay attention to his steps, I see he’s really not going any faster than before. And if I cast aside the distractions that cause me to stumble and focus instead on my call to live for God’s glory, I realize: I’ve got all the time I need.