Posted on

Passionate Love

I just got off the phone with  Nina, my sister — and one of my best friends — who adopted two kids out of the foster care system nearly 9 years ago. She called while I was at Mosaic, but didn’t leave a message. I called her as I was leaving and have been on the phone with her ever since — over two hours.

That’s not all that spectacular as conversation times go. We’ve been known to talk for over three hours on the phone before. Part of the deal for me on these calls is that I just don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to cut the connection — even when we’re not talking about earth-shattering deep things, at least I hear her voice. Hanging up cuts off that sound and leaves a huge void in its wake. It’s like those pangs of homesickness I’d get every time I left my parents’ home. My heart hurts.

Nina’s daughter, the second of two siblings she and Toby adopted, is not doing well. Nina is once again at the end of her rope. Frances has been through hell in her short 18 years on this earth. There are things buried so deep in her past — abuses of all sorts — that we only know they are there from her violent reactions to even the slightest touch. She was doing so well — she progressed through a program at a facility and was finally able to come home, for the first time in over three years. Not only that, but she actually wanted to come home, wanted to live with Nina and Toby, wanted to get her life straightened out, go to college, become more than she currently is.

She’s been home maybe two weeks and already has gone back to old behaviors, patterns of manipulation and out of control actions. It’s less than it was in the past, but severe enough to send Nina back into post traumatic stress overload. For you to fully comprehend and appreciate what Niina and Toby have been through and how traumatic this current turn of events is for them, would take longer than we have here. And besides, that’s Nina’s story to tell, whenever she’s ready.

The bottom line is that wounded people wound others, and the deeper the wounds on the former, the deeper they cut the latter. Frances’ wounds run too deep for us to fathom. She in-turn inflicts deep wounds that  cut to the core and leave Nina and Toby decimated.

Nina’s heart is huge. I mean HUGE. She loves with a passion that I can only dream of. She loves the unlovable. As a teen I just thought she had poor judgment in friends. But as an adult I see that God has gifted her with a tremendous capacity to love beyond all reason, a longing to nurture others and a passion to invest her life in bringing healing to those who are incredibly broken and needy. Even as we spoke of a need for her to set boundaries of acceptable treatment from Frances, Nina’s main and overriding concern was for Frances’ current and future well-being.

I know where Nina got this from. Our mom loved with a passion like this. But Nina’s passion mixes with a stubborn resolve she got from both parents — and a healthy dose of self-respect (which, unfortunately our mom often lacked) to create a most formidable Lover Of The Unlovable.

So many would have given up on Frances long ago. The false accusations of abuse, the verbal and physical assaults they’ve endured, the endless nights worrying, crying, praying, the pain of no one understanding what they were going through…. Nina and Toby have never surrendered. They love Frances passionately even now. Even in the midst of more-of-the-same painfully deep woundings.

Nina leaves a mark on everyone she touches in life. Her mark on my life is deep. She’s my older sister, so of course I never appreciated her growing up.

But I do now. I see now how blessed I am to know her, and even more so to call her my sister and my friend.

Please pray for her and Toby as they walk through this latest dark night of the soul.

Posted on

Weekend Kisses

Some moments in life are kisses on the cheek from God. I had a weekend full of them. And it’s not Monday yet. How blessed I am.

I live on a roller-coaster of emotions. I try so very hard not to "live" in the place of sorrow. I try so hard to pull myself out of it every moment of the day. But the truth is, this is where I am. I dwell in a land of sorrows, of grief, of loss. I wish I could say I’m over all the things I’ve lost. It embarrasses me to know that I still struggle with this grief and depression… I feel so weak and…. immature in the faith. I wish with every fiber of my being I could say I’m past it all. But I cannot.

I keep discovering new things that were destroyed in the landslide of my life. It’s as if God has chosen this time of my life to completely remake me. And he started by demolishing all I was, all I had, all I thought was me.

I believe He is making a New Me. It is a matter of life or death for me — as long as I believe, there is still a spark of life in my spirit, but if I stop believing my spirit will die. So I believe with every ounce of strength I have. And then I cry out, "Lord, help my unbelief!"

My week was filled with such struggles. I tried to deny I was still in this dark place over the last few weeks. Events and situations, God and His provision all buoyed my spirit and aided my self-deception. But a few key events toppled my house of cards. By Wednesday I was exhausted, frustrated and unable to lie to myself any longer.

Last night I went to a Youth Evangelism Conference. I was so tired I really just wanted to stay home and sleep. But a new friend of mine was speaking and I wanted to go hear him and meet up with him for a bit afterward. It was a much longer drive than I anticipated. It seems all of Tennessee was going to this conference. There were over 10,000 people there — at least that’s my estimate, considering the place holds 10,000 and we were so maxed out they ran out of seating and had people sitting on the floor all over the place.

There was amazing worship. Mosaic kind of worship. You don’t get that very much here. Oh, you can get the music and the songs. Great music, great musicianship, great songs.  But not the Spirit. It’s the Spirit-led part that makes Mosaic worship so amazing and refreshing. This was Mosaic Spirit-led kind of worship, with Dave Hunt leading.

Little side note: Barney had given me Dave’s number and has encouraged me many times to get in touch with him. I was just too chicken to call…. you know, that whole "I’m a friend (well, okay, Barney’s my counselor, but also my friend… right?) of so-and-so and he recommended I call you…." Bleh. I’m so bad at that. And I hate doing it. I always feel I’m imposing on people.

I’m not sure all the reasons Barney wanted me to connect with Dave, but I know why God wanted me to. What an amazing worship leader! He reminded me of my friend David Files. David is a tremendously gifted worship leader. Dave Hunt is the same. He led us to the throne of God… over 10,000 of us a singing, dancing and lifting our hands to the Awesome Lover of our Souls.

I felt drenched in holy water. I felt so drenched! Soaked in His love, wrapped in His arms. So, so loved.

How do people live without this love? I don’t know how they do it. I would have killed myself by now. I could not live one single day without it. It calms my spirit when my world is crazy, brings peace to my soul even though the waters we travel are roaring rapids, and quiets the storms of my heart even though they rage out of control. My life didn’t change in that time of worship.  I’m still parent-less. I’m still job-less — permanently-speaking. I’m still at a loss as to why I’m here.

But my heart is full.

Tony’s speaking was amazing — more about that in a moment — and I got to witness God answer a prayer and begin a heart-transplant-life-transformation, even though it was from afar. I spoke to Tony for a moment afterward… and I connected up with Dave for a moment… I drove home not so much happy as content. Not content-for-all-time. Just content.

I got off at a different exit on the freeway than I was supposed to (still got home fine) and meandered through country roads for quite a while — and even that seemed to be a weird divine moment. A time for God to drench me again in His love as I drove and worshipped and talked with Him.

Today was a day of much-needed rest. I attempted to meet up with Tony again down in Murfreesboro, but I just didn’t head down there soon enough and missed him. I spent the afternoon driving through the country-side of Middle Tennessee, talking on the phone with Nina and shopping. All throughout the day I felt God’s kisses and embrace. Everything seemed to shout His praise and caress me with His love… The sun shining through my sun roof, the wind blowing my hair, the beauty of Tennessee, the heart-filling-spirit-refreshing conversation only a sister-best-friend can give….

Oh, how I am blessed.

Posted on

Identity – a.k.a. Where’s My Sign?

I’m still wrestling with God. This week its over my identity.

Who am I? What am I?

For me identity is like a sign I wear around my neck. It’s the thing that tells me who I am, tells others who I am and keeps us all straight as to what I was made for. Most of my life my identity has been tied to either my family or my doings. I was the Chaplain’s daughter, the minister’s kid, Nina’s sister (or Paula’s or Vic’s — take your sibling-pick), the "baby" of the family… yada-yada-yada. Later in life it became: I’m a sound engineer in training; I’m a producer’s assistant; I’m an executive assistant; and, of course, everyone knows that every assistant in Hollywood is an aspiring writer/producer themselves and I wore that one well for quite a while. Then I became a missionary. First to Hollywood (in an unofficial, self-named capacity, of course), then for real — first to India with ISC/Caleb Project, then with the IMB.

In the last two years I’ve lost my two major themes of "identity". I’m no longer a daughter of anyone on earth. And I’m no longer an official missionary. I’m not an official anything.

Who am I? Why am I here? What’s my purpose? What’s the point of all this? I’m so lost. So confused. So frustrated.

God spoke. "You are My Beloved. You are My Bride. You are A Crown-Princess. You are Mine."

That’s great. And it’s wonderful in the spiritual realm, but — hello — I live in the physical world. But I can’t wear that sign out in public anywhere. Do you know how crazy people would think I am if I said to the world, "Hi. I’m Lu and I’m a Crown-Princess and a child of the King."

Yeah, right. Watch the white coats come out and lock me up. Count the seconds, see how long it takes.

I need an identity I can wear in public, in this physical world you refuse to let me leave behind, thank you very much. Who am I in this world??

So God tried a different tactic today. He used my counselor to say the exact same thing He’d said last night. That was nice, but He gets no credit for originality.

Well, okay. To be fair, Barney didn’t say exactly what God said. He just created an opportunity to God to say it again. And then for me to repeat God’s words out loud. And then Barney took up God’s side of our fight.

Yeah, I got it. God really wants me to take this sign and wear it.

You know, its one thing to wear the Beloved sign with pride at home, or at Mosaic. But out on the street?? I could maybe see hiding it under my shirt, and walk around feeling like I’ve got this big magic secret that I, and no one else knows, knows and that makes me "special" somehow. Like a secret agent, one identity to the world, but my true identity hidden from view. But that doesn’t seem to be God’s aim here. He seems to want me to wear that big-ol’ sign front and center. Everywhere. Even out in public.

Doesn’t that sound so arrogant to do? I mean, does Prince William walk around with a sign saying "soon-to-be Crown Prince of England"? How big would the tomatoes and eggs we throw at him be if he did?

Yet this is the only identity God will give me. No matter how hard I cry, how much I scream, how hard I work, this is it:

"You are My Beloved. You are My Bride. You are A Crown-Princess. You are Mine."

Posted on

Into The Mystic

Alex McManus. Friend. Mentor. Pastor. I owe much to him. He’s saved my sanity on many occasions with his sound wisdom and gracious heart. Not to mention his wife is the best friend a woman could ever have! She is amazing and I miss her deeply.

Alex has his own blog now. Look out world! He recently posted:

what a momentous and opportune moment for the gospel this is. can we step into this epic battle between western culture and islamic culture with the gospel of the kingdom in such a way that the beauty of christ covers the earth as the waters cover the sea?

who cares about being postmodern? followers of jesus come from the future where every knee bows and every tongue confesses that jesus is lord to the glory of God. it is towards that future that we labor.

Sometimes I think we get too wrapped up in the wrappings of our message and forget that people don’t need the wrapping, they need what’s inside. They need restoration with the God who made them. They need someone to lead them to Jesus, to help them connect with Him. Will I step up to the plate and be that person? Or will I let them die of spiritual starvation?

Being new to Nashville has been hard in many respects. I’m so used to an already established sphere of friends and influence. Here I have none. I have to build it all over again. I’m also used to working in a very "secular", non-Christian environment, which provided built-in relationships with those who don’t know Christ. Here I’ve worked in nothing but Christian environments. Very, VERY strange place to be first of all. Very weird for me. And also left me void of those relationships with nonbelievers. I’m so not a socialite, so I prefer to make most of my friends at work — or church. That just ain’t workin’ here. But, ugh, do I hate the idea of going "social" to make new friends.

But if I don’t…. who will starve spiritually because I haven’t? There are people here who need the same kind of relationship with God that I have.  I know how they can get it. But if I don’t meet them, how can I tell them?

Is God the God of meeting people, of Divine intersections? Or am I the one who makes it happen? Where do I draw the line between "works" and "grace", between "the doing" and "the worshipping and being"?

People will always praise Mary in the story of Mary and Martha. But the truth is, in reality, they expect you to be Martha — and chastise those who aren’t. But what does God expect, really? Will He bring the relationships to me if I stay at His feet?

Oh, how I wish I knew.

Posted on

Overheard and Remembered

"People do what they want to do. The rest is just excuses." — Tyne Daly, as Maxine Grey on "Judging Amy"

"Do what you want to do. Don’t do what you don’t want to do." — Alex McManus, as my friend, 2001 when I asked for advice on a particular issue of someone wanting me to do something that I really didn’t want to do.

When I pressed him further, Alex simply said, "People often do things because they feel obligated, or because they think it’s what others want them to do, not because they really WANT to do those things themselves…..  Do what you want to do. Don’t do what you don’t want to do."

What strikes me about both statements is the truth within them. They may seem to oppose one another, yet ultimately I believe they don’t. I think people do "do what they want to do" and at the same time, they don’t. They want to please others, so that’s what they do, even though what that leads to is NOT what they want to do.

When I think of all the things I’ve done because I thought others wanted me to, or because I thought it was what I was "supposed" to do, or I thought it was the thing that would get me in good with others…. Oh, the time and energy I’ve wasted! I did those things because I wanted to, but I wanted to for all the wrong reasons. And when I didn’t get what I expected, I felt bitter, resentful, and angry at those from whom I expected something.

Alex’s advice took me by surprise. It’s not at all what you’d expect a pastor-type friend to say. But it has stuck with me ever since. It is now one of the touchstones by which I make my decisions and take action. "What is it I really want to do?" "Do I really want to do this?"

Jesus said, "let your yes be yes and your no be no." In other words, don’t say yes to someone when your heart is really saying no. How many times has my mouth said yes and my heart said no? Far too many to count…

Since receiving Alex’s advice in October 2001, I’ve worked hard to check myself, to check my motives when I act. Over the summer and fall of 2003 I discovered afresh how devastating it can be to a relationship when our mouths make commitments our hearts are not behind. I was a participant in a friendship that was riddled with that behavior, and I was guilty of it myself. It ultimately destroyed the relationship. There is a bitter taste to eating your own words, especially when you’re heart outed you long ago.

In my present relationships — all my relationships — I have made a commitment to God and to myself that I will never let my mouth make commitments my heart is not behind. Better an honest "no, thank you" than a disingenuous "yes I will."

Posted on

It’s Snowing! …. uh, well….

I can’t help it. I’m a little California girl who hasn’t seen a whole lotta snow in her adult life. So I turn into a giddy little kid every time we get flurries. It started snowing a few minutes ago and of course I just went bazerk! I grabbed my camera and tried to get some pictures, but it’s too dark to get decent pics… this is the best I could do.


Shortly after I took this, it stopped snowing. Oh, well. At least we got a dusting.

Posted on

Fresh Rain

Can you smell it?

It’s the fragrant aroma of fresh rain falling. I began as I drove home from Mosaic tonight. I got a whiff of it and immediately opened my sunroof to the "tilt" position so I could take in the whole bouquet of it.

It’s a fragrance that immediately takes me back to my childhood. For some reason, even though I lived in many places as a child where it rained often — like Tacoma, Washington — the smell of fresh rain always seems to take me back first to Glorieta, New Mexico. I have wonderful memories of many summers spent at there, hiking in the mountains where the conference center is nestled, learning to make many fun things in day-camp, playing in the campground, and watching the daily thunderstorm make it’s way through the mountains on its way to Santa Fe.

But more than just the memories comes the feelings, of newness, of freshness…. hope. Every time I smell the rain I feel…. cleaner. Even if I’m dirty as I can get.

It was so refreshing to smell the rain tonight. I’m so tired. I’ve been exhausted all weekend. Not sure what’s going on… I just feel like I did when I had Mono back in the 8th grade. I slept most of today, and I still feel like I could sleep for another 12 hours. So to inhale that wonderful aroma of fresh rain and fill my lungs with it was like… like getting a cold drink of water on a hot summer day. Invigorating and filled with hope.

Posted on

In Love

His mouth is full of sweetness  And he is wholly desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem…" Song of Songs 5:16

I’m in love. So very, passionately, cray in love.

He’s funny, and wise, and brave, and heroic. He’s romantic, but also very rugged and manly. He always knows what to say, when to say it, and when to keep silent. He loves to laugh, but isn’t afraid to cry either. He’s larger than life and at the same time so very much down to earth and, "real". He’s transparent, authentic I guess is the best word. He is what you see and all you see. He hides nothing, yet at the same time is very mysterious. He knows more than I could ever dream to know. Yet He’s humble. He’s gracious, loving, passionate, kind, strong, powerful, skilled, creative, talented…. What can I say? He’s amazing. Just absolutely amazing.

Throughout the last three years I’ve cried on his shoulder time and time again. I’ve shouted him down a few times too. Whined a lot… all kinds of things. But he’s never complained, never gotten fed up with me. Instead, he’s always been there, comforting me, even when there were no words adequate to the pain I felt and the love and compassion he felt. He’s encouraged me in every endeavour I’ve undertaken, held me up through incredible pain, gotten me to laugh just when I needed it… man! What a lucky — blessed! — woman I am! Such a blessed woman. I know I am loved. Beyond doubt I know. He never misses an opportunity to tell me again of his love. No one could dream of a love this rich, this intimate, this passionate, this personal — it’s as if we were made for each other, we fit like hand-in-glove. I certainly couldn’t have dreamt of a love this crazy-wonderful.

And the craziest thing is I’ve never seen Him with my eyes. I only feel His Spirit within me, feel Him brush against me with every breeze. I see His hands and hear His voice in my mind… But I swear, I feel His breath on me every second of the day, breathing fresh Life into me.

I could never survive without this Love. It is what I live for. What I die for. It is the reason I am who I am.

His love. What a gift it is to me.

I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me. — Song of Songs 7:10

Posted on

Whew!

That was an evening.

I cleaned like a freak. Then sat down to dinner and watched some wonderful eye candy that could actually sing (can we say heaven in seven different languages!!) on American Idol — got a good crop o’men this year…. Then, just when I thought I was all cleaned out, I cleaned some more.

And I did all this before 10pm. Now that’s something to celebrate.

I sat down to write, but got so excited that I could actually SEE the wood on my desk that I thought I’d take pictures. I think the last time I saw it was shortly after I moved in here in, what…. October. Sheesh.


Look — My desk is cleeeeean!


Here’s the view I have from my bed… which, by the way…


…has new sheets!! Yippee! I bought these from Bed, Bath & Beyond, one of my favorite stores. It’s the sateen kind. YUM. They feel sooo soft. I knew the colors would go with my room and tie the blue of the bedroom in with the rich reds and greens from the bathroom, but I didn’t realize how well the design on the sheets went with the rest of my room till I got them home. Check it out….


I’ve got a Rose Theme going.


Cleaned up the dresser too.

And now that I’ve got all this cleaning done…. my throat is killing me every time I swallow. Now that’s a part of my anatomy I didn’t expect to hurt. Odd.

Posted on

Nesting

I must be nesting.

Within an hour of arriving home I had straightened up my room (no small feat, I tell you!), made three piles of laundry to walk down to the main building later to wash (oh, how I miss the days of having the machines inside my home!!), stripped and remade my bed, made dinner (and yes, I actually DID make dinner — fish sticks, mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes) and now I’m sitting down to watch American Idol…. Laundry will come later…

As I was in the midst of this flurry of activity, I started doing some math… yup. I’m nesting. My body is definitely in that rush of energy that comes just before the agony of pain from my head to my… well, you know. Oh joy.