Dear Christian: The Hard Truth About Being "Blessed"

The valley was brimming with people now, the steady hum of their presence filling the air. Maybe it was late in the day, the sun pulling close to the horizon in a colorful embrace, and it was time to move on. Or perhaps there were some things just too precious for the masses—things they wouldn't yet understand. But those who loved him, those who were wholly committed and desperate for truth, they followed Him. They climbed with him, following his every step as he wove a dusty path up the mountainside.

And in that solitary place perched atop a hill, away from the chatter and bustle of the world, He sat down with His friends. When His lips parted, the soft whisper of truth emerged.

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God...

The world applauds those who achieve successful careers, luxury vehicles, 2.5 children and a suburban palace. But the outcasts—the bankrupt, the homeless, the impoverished, the senile, and the addicts—provoke a very different response. Sometimes it's because Haves just don’t understand, and sometimes it's because the least of these remind them of the fact that “failure” in this life is only one bad choice away. One disaster away. One job loss away.

But Jesus whispers of having nothing left. Of no way out, of a sleeve completely void of any last tricks, of bridges burned and contacts tapped. Of circumstances kicking away the material crutches that prop you up and give you a sense of indelibility. Because when you finally get to the end of your rope and fall, God will surely be there to catch you, even if it’s not how you imagined or wished He would.

Truth, you see, is a paradox. It's always the opposite of what we tend to think in our selfish, human nature. Jesus speaks of a world upside down, and He continues:

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Bodies forever altered by years of childbearing, lives cut too short, job eliminations and life savings flushed down the stock market toilet. The world tells you that once you’ve lost your figure, your spouse or child, your job of 30 years or your net worth, you no longer have value.

But Jesus whispers of there being space now. Space for him to reach across the brokenhearted divide and pull you close. Space in the hollow of grief for the hope and healing that will make life whole, and worth living, again. It’s always His great mercy to remind us of our dependence on Him, because it’s something we easily forget.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

We are a society that is more connected then ever before, and with the simple click of a button, everyone is able to put their best foot forward and showcase it for the world to see. "Friends" are easier to accumulate then pennies in a jar, and the abundance of information, opinions, crafty ideas and shining success stories can make even the most confident person feel as if they don't measure up. Certain talents and gifts are envied, while others, especially ones beyond the glare of the spotlight, are often ignored.

And while humans create a hierarchy of worth based on trending appetites, Jesus whispers that the real blessing lies in knowing who you are, and being content with that. Thriving in your uniqueness, not a mirror image of what’s popular, is the real reward. And the satisfaction found in freely living out your purpose is something money could never buy. 

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

Our fallenness draws us to comfort foods, to late night snacks on the couch, to eating our emotions and drinking our problems away, but Jesus beckons us to Himself. He invites us to eat the Bread of Life, that He may sustain us when we can't go on. He sees our pain, and He gives us Himself, the only nourishment that will ever truly soothe the hunger inside.

You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

The Selfie Generation, they call us, although that’s merely a symptom of a bigger problem. There has never been a people group more self-focused or self-indulgent then this one, except, perhaps, those that come after us because of the example we set. But Jesus whispers of an outward focus, an others-orientation, a lack of entitlement. Because He knows that even more blessed then the receiver is the giver, and that once we are finally emptied of ourselves we are indeed full.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

Family pictures withcolor-coordinated, smiling children in a row; good behavior masquerading as holiness; front lawns pristinely manicured; beds made, houses tidy, and 401K's even tidier. Oh, how the world longs to have it all together and reveres those who appear so.

Jesus whispers from left field that the exterior means nothing without a heart fully devoted to Him. That a life built without Him is one built in vain. That even the most put-together individuals are but whitewashed tombs, dead on the inside, without the love of Christ. That you'll never be able to see God at work in the world, or all the good things He has for you to do, without a heart focused on Him.

You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

There exists this thing called a “comment section.” It’s a sliver of internet dark space in which grown adults are reduced to a bunch of squabbling toddlers, yelling back and forth about whose toy it really is, who has a right to the toy more and for what reason, assuming the worst possible intentions about the other, and spewing horrendous names in the process. And somehow many of these “adults” think this is ok--to shout things from behind the “protection” of a computer screen that they wouldn’t dare mumble to someone’s face.

Whatever place you find yourself in today, whether it’s cyber or reality, Jesus speaks of sowing seeds of peace. Dealing with conflict is a lost art, but learning how to do so is vital to relationships, especially in a family. We were created to turn chaos into order, dissention into reconciliation, squabbling into resolution, and fighting into peace. Working through those clashes and coming out on the other side—that makes for one tight-knit clan.

You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

This bitter taste of persecution is foreign to the tongues of Americans. For most of us, we cannot fathom what it would be like to live in a country where laws dictated a belief system. Where it was illegal to go to church, to own a bible, to pray in public. And even in the information age in which we live, many are still oblivious to the persecution of those around the world, or worse yet, choose to turn a blind eye.

The painful stories drift across the ocean, and when the stench wafts ashore, we praise God that we were born in a free country. A country in which we can believe and live as we choose, where we have just as much a right to be grateful for our freedoms as we have to take them for granted and squander them completely.

But many were not born here, and they didn’t have a say in that decision, either. The hard truth is, God knows. He sees. He hears their cries and collects their tears. He even goes as far as to say count yourselves blessed, for yours is the kingdom of Heaven. Rejoice and be glad, for although this present life is wasting away before your very eyes, great will be the reward in heaven.

To have the kind of unwavering faith that perseveres, that waits for the abstract, blissful promise of heaven’s glory in the face of unimaginable suffering is as foreign as the Middle East. How great is the love of one who willingly walks the green mile out of devotion to Him.

You’re blessed…

Oh, how we squander the richness contained in those words. I truly believe that we don't mean to—most of us are just a product of the culture in which we live. But we take the deep fullness of God contained in blessing and trade it for the material, the temporary. That which will wither like a flower in the hot desert sun, here today and gone tomorrow. We cheapen it, casting aside the indwelling of a Living God and grasping desperately instead for the idol, which, once attained, evaporates as smoke before our very eyes.

True blessing isn’t marked by the degree of temporary comfort or happiness achieved but rather by the unique opportunity provided by less then ideal circumstances to draw close to God. A closeness that couldn’t be achieved except for the sharing of suffering. And that is the blessing: Jesus Himself.

It’s a paradigm shift. The world shouts in our pain, encouraging us to avoid it at all costs. To drown it out, ignore it, bury it, and numb it away. To get out of it as fast as possible, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and go on pursuing the American Dream. And if it turns out to be broken, just throw it away and get a new one.

But Jesus. When the world shouts, he whispers, and sometimes you have to climb to a quiet place just to hear Him, to make out His voice from the crowd. Jesus invites us in, into the pain, into the suffering. He asks us to sit there a while, to soak it all in and not waste a hot second of it. And He’s not only there with us, so we don’t have to go it alone, HE’S THERE.

True blessing exists when we arrive at the end of ourselves, when we have nothing left to give, for it’s there that God resides. What it comes down to with each and every blessing is being stripped of ourselves. Stripped of our self-sufficiency, stripped of our earthly comforts, stripped of our masks, stripped of our fleshly desires, stripped of our selfishness, stripped of our need to perform, stripped of our pride, and stripped of our fear. Like an expert carpenter shaving down a block of wood, strip by strip, to carve from it something beautiful, so the Lord strips us. And with each swipe of the blade, the excess falls away, and we begin to look more and more like the finished product--Jesus. The blessing is always Him.

So whether you need to get over yourself, out from under yourself, past yourself or to the end of yourself, do it today. Because God is waiting there. And I don’t know about you, but I, for one, have a lot to learn about being blessed.

Matthew 5: You’re Blessed {MSG}

1-2 When Jesus saw his ministry drawing huge crowds, he climbed a hillside. Those who were apprenticed to him, the committed, climbed with him. Arriving at a quiet place, he sat down and taught his climbing companions. This is what he said: 

3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. 

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you. 

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought. 

6 “You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat. 

7 “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for. 

8 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world. 

9 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family. 

10 “You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom. 

11-12 “Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. 

Real Life Still Life, Vol. 6

We were both still sitting at the table tonight, picking at the leftover yellow peppers and entertained by the kid's post-mealtime antics, and I casually said to him, 

So... you know that Proverbs 31 woman?

And he quipped, No, I don't know her, without even missing a beat.

I doubled over in laughter, my eyes happening upon the shredded napkins smeared with pasta sauce all over the floor like the remnants of some bloody massacre, and then over at the sink-full of dirty dishes. I know what he means.

Momentarily distracted by the comment and my uncontrollable abdominals, however, I completely forgot to finish my thought, which was that if the Proverbs 31 woman is truly able to laugh at the days to come, then she must've had a glass of wine before dinner.

While making dinner, to be more specific, and with a side of Boys to Men and other random 90's classics to drown out all the chaos underfoot that time of day.

With that glorious combination, I would laugh, too, and probably dance a little. And if you can laugh at today, there's certainly hope for all the tomorrows.

Montage Monday: April 13-19

On the heels of a busy weekend, Mondays seem to be the day of the week that I set aside to get my life cleaned up and put back together. Laundry, dishes, and photo montages. :) That's about as organized as I get on a good day.

April 13

April 14

April 15

Lest you think I'm johnny-on-the-spot about getting these cute little bird houses painted and hung this fine spring, I just want to point out the fact that the kids got them for Easter. 

Last year.

#betterlatethennever

#mylifemotto

April 16

April 17

Happy 7th Birthday Ruby! Frozen, rainbows, family and friends. It was a good day. Recipe to follow for the Leaning Tower of Rainbow Cake.


April 18

Ahh... Saturday... where imaginations and relaxation begin.

April 19

Girls day with Ruby at the mall, filled to the brim with giggles, thank you's and BFF paraphernalia. It didn't take long for me to earn the title of Stuff Holder.

For the Days Following Easter: Because Real Life Doesn't Look Like Your Perfect Family Photo

The photos started popping up around mid-morning Easter Sunday, as folks nationwide were making the journey to church. Apparently, Easter also has the lesser-known title of National Family Photo Day, second only to Christmas, just in case some of you missed the memo. No greeting cards necessary, however—a simple Facebook post will do.

“Easter with the family!” They say. #happyeaster #heisrisen #lovemyfamily #soblessed

And as I scrolled down the feed, gazing at the abundance of matching pastels, parents holding their babies, and smiles plastered on faces all around, I started to wonder. What if those pictures were instead a sheet of stickers, and I could reach out and peel back their faces to see what was really hidden underneath? What would I find behind the mom and her baby, the couple holding hands, or the smiling children lined up in a row?

Not-So-Happy Easter photo, followed by real life hashtags. #thismorningsucked #iyelledoverstupidthings #theonlyonethatlikesmenowisthebaby #smilingforthepicturewouldseemlikeajoke #butitsnotfunny #letsgotochurch #thankGodhe'srisen #reallyneedthattoday

On the way out the door, I snapped this one of my kids as we jumped in the car to head to church ourselves. Before I realized it was Family Photo Day, of course. I told them to “Smile! It’s Easter! Say Happy Easter!”

Why do we need to take a stupid picture when you can’t even see our outfits? My daughter protested.

Ya, Happy Easter, my son said, with sarcasm dripping from his lips. And their faces said it all.

Because the reality was, it had probably been anything but.

Oh, I tried. I really did. I did my best to have everything set out and ready ahead of time so we wouldn’t have to rush. I was up early and made every effort to be present with the kids and finish getting the house prepped. But within the first hour of being awake, I had to apologize more times then I had fingers on a fist to shake at them.

I lost it over spilled milk and bubbles, got frustrated with missing socks, failed to see the strides of obedience and helpfulness and focused on the mistakes instead. I asked forgiveness, but sometimes the hurt lingers, and so does the stress. It hangs in the air like the smog from a burnt dinner, and it’s hard to fan away the stench. Hours later even, it’s still noticeable.

The devil is in the details on Sunday mornings, and even more so on the Holy Days. He’s like a shark circling in the water, and he can smell the blood of desperate, wounded souls longing for their Savior. By time some of us make it to church, we are utterly exhausted from treading water, just trying to survive.

I dropped the kids off in class and then poked my head into the classroom across the room to see a dear friend sitting on the floor, caring for the little one in her charge.

How was your morning? I asked her.

It was…rough. Really rough. She replied with a nod as she brushed the hair behind her ear, her head hanging now from the weight of the guilt.

I know. Mine too.

Sometimes it’s all you can do to make it there in one piece.

As I stood in the back of the sanctuary, soaking in the worship and doing my best not to burst into tears on the spot, I wondered to myself, almost aloud, why don’t we talk about it??

Amid the toddlers pulled right out of a magazine ad, the delicious-looking family meals and the color-coded ducks in a row, why doesn’t someone say that even Easter Sunday, particularly Easter Sunday, is hard? Any mention of this thing called "real life" seems to be mysteriously absent from all the festivities.

Don’t get me wrong—its not that family shouldn’t be celebrated on Easter—heck, it’s probably one of the few times a year that everyone is dressed up, coordinated, and early enough to pause for a rare moment together. A memory that you will look back on and probably treasure for years to come. I totally get it and even tried to pull it off myself. "Tried" being the operative word there.

And not that there shouldn’t be joy and celebration, worship and praise—our Savior has risen from the dead! But I wonder, as the world looks at our lives—at our photos—if they think they have to be polished and pristine to darken the door of a church. That only perfect looking, color-coordinated, pretty people go there. The ones who have it all together. The ones with all their kids in a row, smiling, and a picture to prove it.

And with the weight of that image on my chest, I was finding it hard to breathe. I for one don’t measure up, but that, my friends, is the beauty of the Resurrection. Because I don’t have to. Christ came down to earth, lived a sinless life, and died a horrible death on a cross for me because of his great love. Not because I did anything for him or because I deserved it or because I showed up at church on Easter Sunday in my best dress.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Romans 5:6-8

So I guess I’m here to tell you that it’s okay.

It’s okay to have an Easter Sunday, or any Sunday for that matter, that totally sucks by 9:00am. The kind of day where you’d rather just crawl back into bed then face another minute. And it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t have to feel guilty about it, or ungrateful, or hypocritical, or like a total jerk of a Christian.

You're not. You just simply suffer from something they call "being human." We all do.

In fact, if you were to peel back the stickers and peek under the smiles in those perfect family photos, I imagine that you’d find many a crappy Sunday morning hiding there. 

"Worn"

Tenth Avenue North

I’m Tired I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes

I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest

So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn