Conversation in Heaven

Words pour out of her mouth, and I disassemble each one. I notice how her eyes linger, how she seems to look right through me. An outsider might hear a casual, friendly conversation, but the lie not spoken is palpable. My momma used to always tell me, “No one can make you feel anything; you allow what you feel.” It’s true. I let in the good and the bad, the truth and the lies. I decide what I keep.

I feel inferior and invisible in her company. I’m holding the kind of hurt that, left unchecked, turns to stone cold bitterness. These feelings I’ve invited in are good indicators that I’m taking myself too seriously. Pride is a dead giveaway. So I do the only thing I know works: I go to God. I empty my hands and lay it there before the throne.  I need help determining what’s truth and what’s not. It takes brave faith to trust that what He thinks of me trumps all other thoughts, opinions, and judgments. I hone in on the whisper that comes like a cool breeze, gentle yet unexpected: I died for her, too.

We are desperate for solutions that help us measure up. We rank people like we’ve been given authority or something.  We speak judgment behind backs and in front of faces with or without the facts. We crave tidy circles, and we hold back just because it’s awkward to let anyone any closer.  We spend most of our time just trying to find our place, searching for where we fit, begging to be invited into where we think we belong.

We can’t fix an eternal problem with an earthly solution, but oh, how we try.

For, as I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ. Philippians 3:18-20

We belong with a perfect God in paradise, but our vision is so easily clouded by earthliness. The things of this world are visible and accessible, but the invisible eternal is right here at our fingertips. The kingdom of God is in our midst. Paul’s words, translated in the King James Version read, “For our conversation is in heaven.” As Jesus renews our minds, He initiates a new way of thinking and invites us into a new conversation. He gives an eternal perspective when He gives His Spirit, so anything tethered to this place is irrelevant.

It doesn't matter who your family is, where you grew up, or where you now live. It doesn’t matter which school you attended, how well you did, or which clique invited you in. It doesn't matter how many titles you've earned or how many trophies you've won. It doesn’t matter who you married, how much your wedding cost, or where you honeymooned. It doesn’t matter which church you attend, which career you chose, or what you make. It doesn’t matter how big your family is or whether your kids are well behaved or rowdy. It doesn’t matter which type of car you drive or where your kids go to school. It doesn’t matter how many Facebook likes or how many Facebook friends you've acquired. It doesn't matter which brand of jeans you wear or what size they are. It doesn't matter how you look or how you cook. It doesn't matter if you fly first class or coach.  It doesn't matter how high the pile of laundry gets or how often you sweep your floor. It doesn't matter how you've messed up, how you've failed, or how far you still have to go.

Your invitation into this eternal conversation is all that matters.

God’s solution for our mess was His Son hanging on a cross in our place. It was the only way to satisfy the wrath of God towards sin and the love of God towards sinners. The cross has no favorites. All have fallen short of God's glory. The cross confirms that everyone needs Jesus.  Every one. The cross is where our conversation begins. Paul isn’t finished with his letter until he gets personal. In the chapter that follows, his words bring my earthly distractions to a lifeless halt:

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, you whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, dear friends! I plead with Euodia and I plead with Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Philippians 4:1-2 (emphasis added)

Euodia and Syntyche needed to be reminded that they had overlooked what they shared. It’s no different for me here and now. The conversation that left me feeling inferior, willing to embrace bitterness, and ready to pass judgment is evidence of a similar struggle. When we value earthly things, we stand in opposition to the cross. We can’t keep trying to fit in somewhere we were never created to be.

God has given those who are His one mind- the mind of Christ. If we agree on the cross, nothing else matters. The new creation is all that counts. We are allies of the cross of Jesus Christ. We are the family of God. We are sisters. Amber Haines, in her profound memoir, Wild in the Hollow, explains this so beautifully. She says Jesus calls us to be “people of the unshakable kingdom” who view others “in the way God sees them, as worthy, like the kingdom version of a person is the only version there is.”

Side by side comparison has no place in heaven’s conversation.

May our common need for Jesus break down any earthly barriers we’ve erected. May we be a people who quit trying to prove ourselves and let the gospel prove itself through our everyday lives instead. May we seek God’s kingdom and His righteousness above all else, and may our conversation be evidence that our hearts and minds are immersed in the eternal. May we be found as faithful servants who never took our eyes off Jesus.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

Why Every Season Needs a Soundtrack

 Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. Colossians 3:16 

God is asking me to make some space. He is asking me to embrace emptiness. Not the kind of emptiness that is void of His presence, but an emptiness that is peaceful and hollow. An emptiness that waits expectantly to be filled. The playlist I listen to each morning as I drive my kids to school contains only seven songs.  My last playlist had between thirty and forty. I keep trying to add songs to this soundtrack, just like I keep trying to fill my season of empty.

My life’s soundtrack is helping me realize that my current season is defined by this emptiness I keep trying to fill. I want God to fill my empty space rather than rush to fill it on my own with just anything. God knows my heart struggles with empty, so He is reminding me that this season of rest is only a pause between songs.  Isn’t rest exactly that- a pause, a breath, a momentary break in the music? The empty spaces between notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Just like music, our seasons ebb and flow. When we intentionally set our lives to music, our soundtracks can offer quite a bit of insight into our current season.

           1.         Soundtracks define our season so we can quit being surprised by it.

Which songs do you find yourself drawn to right now? You know, those songs that make you cry, the ones you crank up and sing out loud. Which songs do you struggle to understand? Which ones do you hum long after you park the car and go about your day? Which songs stir your heart in a way you can’t quite explain? Which ones do you put on repeat?

Sometimes a song can help us put words to what’s swirling around in our heads and hearts. My soundtrack- the types of songs on my current playlist and the simple lack thereof- helped me name the emptiness. Knowing that God has me in a season of rest allows me to stop trying to make it anything but empty.

What one word best describes your season?

           2.         Soundtracks help us absorb what God is teaching us.

When I can point to a weakness God is working out in me or a persistent doubt that the enemy is using against me, I can fully embrace my season without wishing I was in someone else’s season. It helps me process what I’m learning.

When I consider my season that’s empty, I’m reminded that Jesus emptied Himself, because it was part of God’s beautiful rescue plan. He took on the humble nature of a servant and became obedient to the point of death- even death on a cross. (See Philippians 2:5-8) God is calling me to be a servant. He is teaching me humility in this season, as well as the importance of following His lead. He is asking me to lay down my plan and my agenda. He is asking me to trust that He alone can fill me.

How is God teaching you to lean into Him? What is He asking you to lay down?

          3.           Soundtracks naturally keep us moving forward.

It is excruciatingly painful to listen to a song get stuck. A soundtrack that fits our season allows us to move towards God with praise, no matter what struggles make up the melody. Right now, I’m drawn to the empty tomb. Yet, not a single gospel account indicates that the tomb was empty, because it wasn’t.

An angel announced the news that Jesus had risen. The tomb wasn’t empty; it contained evidence of God’s promise fulfilled. The angel reminded Jesus’ friends that all had occurred just like He had said. (See Matthew 28:5-6) Nothing was out of place, nothing was a surprise to God, nothing could stand in the way of God’s plan moving forward.

What single step is God asking you to take towards Him today?

           4.         Soundtracks help us discover how God is uniquely revealing Himself to us.

Every season we enter is a new song God writes specifically for us. The notes, the chords, the rhythm and rest are all part of His plan to uncover a new part of His heart we’ve never experienced before. Soundtracks help us find Jesus in our current season.

Those at the tomb forgot that Jesus had prepared them for what was to come. God prepares us, in the same way, for every season we enter. It might look completely different than we expected, but His Word holds true. We can find evidence of His promises and His Presence in every single season. In this season I am searching for the only One who can fill my emptiness, the One who promises overflowing, abundant life.

How is God revealing Himself in your season?

May we intentionally set our lives to the music God has laid out before us. May we seek Jesus in this season, looking to Him to turn our weaknesses into beautiful melodies that proclaim His strength. May we embrace with gratitude each beautiful love song He’s arranged for the sole purpose of pursuing our hearts. May we allow our soundtracks- inspired by a God who keeps His promises- to carry us through this season and into the next.

What is your soundtrack teaching you about your season? I’d love to hear from you.

Jesus loves you,
Kelly


He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Psalm 40:3

The Only Cure for Restlessness

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” Isaiah 30:15

We walked briskly to the stable as early morning sunlight peeked through the trees. The thick August humidity had been ushered out by an unexpected storm, and the sky was a crisp blue. A small group of us gathered in front of the barn. It was our last day at Family Camp, and God had been softly whispering to my tired heart all week long. Years had passed since I’d ridden a horse, but I felt excitement rather than fear rise up within me, a sign I was ready to embrace whatever God had planned for me out on that trail.

Swanee, the head wrangler at Pine Cove, paired me with the tallest, strongest horse. I took note of his monstrous feet as I hoisted myself up into the saddle. Moon Pie obviously got his name from his smooth chocolate coat. I would have never pegged him as a gentle horse, not for all the strength I could see he possessed. 

As we rode across the field, between trees with sagging branches and down rocky paths, I was overcome by the reality that this horse trusted me. He was completely at rest, every ounce of his strength in total submission. Words from the book of Isaiah- God’s words to a people bent on running away- churned in my mind that morning. Somewhere out on that trail with my new friend, Moon Pie, God’s whisper met my restlessness with this:

There is no rest without trust.

All four gospels record Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on the day we now call Palm Sunday. Jesus didn’t come as most expected. He rode an unbroken colt through a noisy crowd of people waving palm branches everywhere. Hardly ideal for a first time ride. (see Matthew 21:2, Mark 11:2 & Luke 19:37-38) He could have picked a fast stallion, but Jesus never rushes, and He doesn’t rush me either. He is patient to earn my trust. He allows my will to run wild, but He knows how to handle my heart. Jesus isn’t interested in using force, nor is control His tactic. His gentleness compels me to drop my guard and trust.

Five days after His humble entry into Jerusalem, Jesus hung on a cross and finished what He came to do. John’s gospel tells us that those closest to Jesus were at first confused. (see John 12:16) They didn’t understand why Jesus didn’t take the city by storm, ride in on a war-horse, overturn injustice and make everything right. They didn’t realize that this was God's way of making all things right. This king cared more about relationship than He did appearance or fame. This king was from a whole different kingdom, and He trusted His Father who sent Him. Jesus rested in God’s love, the same love that raised Him from the grave three days later.

                                                                                                                               

“Who are you?” they asked.

“Just what I have been telling you from the beginning,” Jesus replied. “I have much to say in judgment of you. But he who sent me is trustworthy, and what I have heard from him I tell the world.” John 8:25-26

God is worthy of my trust.

Who else offers love regardless of the condition of my heart? Who fully sees me, fully knows me, and fully understands me better than He who made me? Who else is both willing and able to bind my wounds? Who weeps when I’m hurt and remains close enough to catch my tears?  Who else gave His life for me? As if all that were not enough, words recorded centuries ago reveal promises He’s kept, promises we can all rest in.

I will defend you.  (Jeremiah 50:34)

I will never leave you.  (Deuteronomy 31:6)

I will not reject you.  (Psalm 94:14)

I will protect you.  (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

I will heal you and set you free.  (Isaiah 61:1)

I will rename you.  (Isaiah 62:2 and Revelation 2:17)

I will carry out my plan for you.  (Jeremiah 29:11)

I will return for you and bring you home.  (Revelation 22:20)

Trust is the only way to bridge the gap between “I will” and “you.” If rest involves trust, then rest must be about relationship. Trust is the glue that holds relationships together.  As we trust Jesus to capture our wild hearts, insecurity is ushered out and a quiet rest settles inside us instead. Our impulse to run is slowly replaced by a desire to cling.

Rest isn’t something we learn to do; it's Someone we learn to trust.

May we search long and hard and deep, knowing we will always find Him faithful and trustworthy and true. May we recognize that living in relationship with a gentle Savior is the only cure for our restless hearts.

Because Jesus loves you,

Kelly

The Beautiful Ordinary

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:11

She leans over her windowsill and carefully counts twelve new blooms as I braid her long, blond hair. Deep purple petals spread out from the tiniest yellow centers. Every morning, she sings over them. The song varies day to day, but it’s usually one she’s made up on her own. I tell her that her voice will help her plant grow. I’m not even sure if that’s true, but my mom told me something similar, and it’s stuck with me ever since. It seems like something worth passing on. When I was her age I had an African violet, too. I lived in Africa, so I mistakenly assumed they were indigenous. I had no idea this common plant was so ordinary.  All I could see was beauty in this thing I nurtured. I was a quiet girl, so I often wonder if my mom’s suggestion to speak to my plant was a disguised effort to coax my voice out of hiding. My mom taught me much more than how to care for a plant; she taught me to embrace the beautiful ordinary by watching God move in the small moments of life.

Tucked away inside the smallest, most ordinary occurrence is a beautiful God making Himself known.

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