The Preponderance of Provision

It's easy to think about all that we don't have. Maybe this is because we live in a consumer culture; maybe because this is just human nature, but whatever the cause, it doesn't take long for people to list the things that they don't have that they wish they did. In fact, for most of us reading this blog, if someone during the holiday season asks for our wish list, any amount of time that it takes us to deliver it is usually because of what we choose to leave off, not because we are lacking in desires.

One of the many amazing things about God, however, is that He never leaves us in this state of want. In fact, He always provides more than enough for what we need. Sure it doesn't always feel this way; sometimes it feels like we are lacking the right resources, opportunities or options to pursue a certain course, but in fact, God promises that this is not the case. He is actively pursuing our good (Rom. 8:28), not based on how we define it, but based on what is truly good. That is why Scripture teaches us not to worry about what we have or what we don't - God already knows what is needed, and He will provide (See Luke 12:29-31).

However, its not just in our day to day lives that the magnanimous nature of our God is displayed. In fact, the best example of the preponderance of His provision is illustrated in His Son's death on the cross. Not only did Christ's sacrifice provide payment for the sins I've committed, but His goodness, His righteousness, is put on my account (See Romans 4:6-8). In other words, not only is our debt erased, but when God looks at us, He sees all of the "credit" that Christ obtained. Our account is not at a "zero" balance, but instead, from God's perspective, it has all the riches of Christ's righteousness.

This isn't to say that we have nothing left to offer. In return for the riches of His provision, God asks us to lead a life that's pleasing Him. All things considered, it seems a small price to pay.


(This post was inspired, in part, by Dr. Mike Fabarez's message titled "The Gospel According to Abraham - Part 2" which you can find here)

Risk Aversion

My husband and I have very different driving styles. I tend to follow the "stop far enough away that you can see the preceding car's tires" rule; he tends to follow the "if the car can fit, there's enough space to change lanes" philosophy. This isn't to say my hubby is an unsafe driver. He's not. I don't know this for sure but I think if we were to compare records, he would have less accidents. He's just more accepting of risk than I am, and he manages that risk very effectively.

Risk aversion doesn't just show up in my driving. It shows up in other parts of life as well. If something's not a "sure thing" I'll rarely go for it. If there's a significant probability that I'll fail, count me out. If the results can't be anticipated, than I am probably not going to participate.

While there is some wisdom to approaching certain circumstances with caution, I don't believe this is how God wants us to approach life. After all, our Savior left the very rewards of heaven, for the sake of His sinful children. How much more should we be willing to risk all we have, all we desire for Him?

I will probably never be as savvy a driver as my husband, but I've learned from him that willingness to accept some risk, can get us to our destination faster and can present us with opportunities we'd otherwise be without. May I consider this the next time God calls me to take a step of faith, and I don't want to take the risk.

Too Close for Comfort

Cooking is a favorite pastime for many people. For some, it's the thrill of creation - taking ingredients and combining them in such a way to discover an unrealized masterpiece. For others, cooking is a means of expression - a way to take care of those that we love. For me, it's a mixture of both, plus a dash of being able to offer hospitality. Food is a unifier - it creates common experiences among us.

Along with the benefits enunciated above, there's also lessons that can be learned from spending some time in the kitchen. Some of these lessons are rather mundane in nature such as what ingredients taste well together, and what spoon is best for stirring sticky dough. However, other lessons go beyond the confines of the kitchen and filter into life.

I was reminded of this recently when, while I was cooking, I knocked a tomato out of the pan and onto the stove top below. Without thoroughly pondering my actions, I reached for the outcast tomato. The problem with this was that the stove was still on. I convinced myself, however, that my fingers were small enough to reach the tomato without getting burned. As you might imagine, I was wrong.

You can also probably see the analogy to life. So many times I find myself reaching for something that I want, even though I know that in all wisdom I should probably pass it by. I convince myself that I can negotiate around the hurdles and still get my coveted prize. Whether its a tangible reward or the reputation I long for, I try to create shortcuts to getting that which I think is rightly mine. And so often I wind up getting burned.

What I have to learn is that if God desires for me to have something He will provide it. No amount of compromise is required on my part to get something which He wishes to bestow. And if it's not something that comes from His hand, why should I want to grasp it anyway?

Overwhelmed by God

For years, I 've told people that I'm a champion worrier. I can take a seemingly innocuous situation and come up with reasons to be concern. This morning, for example, I walked into a kitchen full of ants enjoying the remnants of one of my dog's dinner. Not only is this disgusting, but for worry-worts like me, it makes my question whether or not I'm a good keeper of my family's house, whether I'm a good pet parent, and about a thousand other concerns that have absolutely nothing to do with the ants' march into my kitchen. To see my worrying in its finest, is really a sight to behold - and not a good one as my husband can attest.

A few years ago it was impressed upon me that despite my natural ability to earn a gold medal in worrying, it really wasn't a godly characteristic in my life. While I was quite willing to trust in God for salvation, I wasn't doing such a good job of trusting Him with life's little mishaps. So began a process of learning to turn things over to Him - and of knowing that they were in His hands from the beginning anyway.

Recently, though, I've learned it's not just about giving things over to God, however, it's about taking all He has to offer instead. For, as John Montgomery from California Baptist University recently said, I should "be overwhelmed by God instead of being overwhelmed by life." God not only takes our burdens upon Him but he offers His grace, mercy and love in exchange. When we are engaged in all that God is, our problems not only seem small in comparison, but they are overshadowed by the magnitude of Him. We are amazed by His mercy, in wonder of His grace, and overcome by His love. When all we see is Him, we cease to focus on our concerns.

The truth is this is not easy, but it's not because of any insufficiency on His part. It's because we choose to focus on other things. However, the more we choose His bigness over our smallness, the closer our perspective is to being aligned with His. And the more we do this, the more He consumes our life, and the more others can see just how overwhelming God is.

The Proof is in the Putting

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er;
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
Oh, for grace to trust Him more!

These words, penned by Louisa M.R. Stead in 1882 have been sung in churches for generations. They stand in sharp contrast to the many antagonists who posit that you can't proof that God exists. The writer states in this hymn that the proof is possible, because His presence has been demonstrated in her life.

I reflected on these words recently, as I pondered when it meant to "prove Him o'er and o'er." For those who have walked the Christian journey for any length of time, we recognize that as assuredly as there are moments of confident faith, there are instances of questioning despair. A loved one is diagnosed with cancer. A loving marriage is shattered by divorce. A child is the recipient of unspeakable pain. All of these, quite naturally, can cause us to question God; maybe not in the "do You exist?" sense, although that can certainly be the case. However, even in the staunchest Christian when faced with their personal protagonist of pain may wonder that if God has mercy on who He has mercy, and compassion on who He has compassion (see Romans 9:14-16) why does He withhold His power in bringing healing in our particular situation?

That's when I realized, the proof that the lyricist wrote about wasn't, I believe, in having a life in which all pain was immediately obliterated, but instead, was in continually putting her faith in Christ. In other words, to change the phrase, the proof wasn't necessarily what happened in that particular circumstance, in the "pudding" so to speak, but the proof was in the putting...the perpetual commitment to trusting that God was in control, and that in the end His purposes and His plans would stand firm. God's existence isn't proven or disproved through His decision not to prevent a particular trial, but as we continually trust Him we see the proof that He is continuously trustworthy. His faithfulness is often clearest seen in our steadfastness to Him.

Now, some may say this is circular logic. "You are creating what you suspect" they may say. However, my challenge is this. Try it. Followers of Christ know that trusting in God often leads you to what you would least expect, so its not like a preexisting determination is making the equation true. However, by putting your trust in Christ, you can see how in your own life, He is proven faithful, time and time again.

Uncertain Steps

There is an image that I think of when life gets challenging. It's a memory from several years ago. At the time, I was running, A LOT. And there wasn't much that could prevent me from going on my Saturday morning run. One day, the sky was cloudy, it had been raining, but I thought the worse had past. It hadn't. While on the run, there were moments where as the rain beat down upon my cap, I couldn't see what was up ahead. All I could do was stay focused on where my foot was going next and, with faith, take that step. I know the final destination was my warm, dry apartment and I just had to keep going until I could get there.

It was a great lesson on several levels. First, check the forecast before you go for a run. (Something I still don't do.) Secondly, it is a touchstone moment that I look back on in my life. Just like that stormy jog, there are days and weeks where the rain seems to be pouring down. Where I am going to go and how life is going to turn out seems very uncertain. The streets are slippery and one false move could mean a lot of pain. However, in the midst of those tentative times, I know that all I need to do is watch where my foot will land next. I don't need to see the whole journey, I must faithfully follow the Way, until I reach my Heavenly home. My steps are uncertain, but my destination is not.

I Corinthians 9 compares our time here on Earth to a race. We are to train and prepare so that we might receive our Heavenly reward. In my mind's eye whenever I think of this passage I focus on the victorious athlete crossing the finish line. What I don't see is all the practice in the rain that got him there. May I take comfort in the times of uncertain steps, knowing that the prize for which I train will make every moment in the rain worth it.

Not Yet Known

Throughout my life I've become notorious in my family for losing cameras. I'm not sure what it was, but for some reason, I never could seem to keep a camera in my possession for very long. It was an expensive, as well as annoying, predilection. Yet despite the angst it caused me, there was little doubt that at some time in the future a new camera would once again become an unintentional donation to another person. It seems as if the lesson was just never learned.

Sometimes our relationship with God can feel like that. We walk with Him, we talk with Him, and we think we have this whole Christianity thing down. Then something happens; usually something unforeseen and something that prompts conviction, and we realize that our well-maintained religious facade is masking our heat's need of some serious restoration from our Lord and Savior.

The good thing is that we're not the only ones who have experienced this. In B.B. Warfield's book "Faith & Life" (which I am reading based on a recommendation from a trusted friend) he opens with a recount of the life of Elijah. Elijah was a man who had a specific task grated to him by God, and who's character was uniquely suited for accomplishment of this task. A man of strong moral conviction, Elijah was to warn the Israelites about the consequences of their sin. Despite the fact that here was a man who was literally on a mission from God, on numerous times he had to face the fact that he did not fully understand Him. As Warfield demonstrates, among Elijah's hard-learned lessons was trusting in God's provisions, being charitable towards others' sufferings and more. Elijah was a man who heard directly and audibly from God and yet for him, there was always a part that remained unknown.

So it is with us. Despite our deepening understanding of God, there will always be new lessons for us to learn. While daunting, this is also a beautiful reminder that He is altogether different from us. And its His difference that allow us to trust Him and rely on His unwavering faithfulness. Unlike my propensity for losing cameras, God never loses us. So even when we feel like we know nothing at all, we can know that. And when we don't understand what's happening in our life, we can take comfort in the fact that for us, as was with Elijah, He is fully, not yet known.

Cast Off

Sailing away often sounds appealing to me. In fact, in one of my all-time favorite books, A Severe Mercy, has an entire section recounting the adventures at see that the author and his young wife experienced. It sounded romantic, not just in that "boy meets girl and falls in love type of way", but in the "life is an adventure and should be experienced and not just lived" type of way. The sea seemed like a world without care. Once that boat pushed off from the dock, all the troubles were cast away too.


The analogy seems apt because the Bible says that "perfect love casts off fear" (I John 1:18, NKJV). While this verse is oft-quoted, it is only recently that I have begun thinking about the action verb associated with it. In my minds eye, I think I considered the verse to be saying, "perfect love supplants fear" or "perfect love is greater than fear." But neither of these are in fact what God's Word contains. It says "perfect love casts off fear." Just like the boat pulls up anchor, casts off, and sails into the open sea, perfect love does away with the weight of fear. It not merely overrules it, it repels it entirely.

This is a concept difficult to grasp because fear, anxiety and worry is so embedded into our day-to-day life. From worrying that we won't arrive on time, to fearing that we won't be able to pay our bills, we are consumed with that which we can't control. Love, and the rest that comes from God's perfect love, renders this fear ridiculous. Just as the anchor has no place on a boat that's sailing on the open sea, fear has no place in a life redeemed by God's love. For if God's love has overarching prevalence in our life, then it is absurd to be afraid of all that's less than it

Casting off for the blue skies and tranquil waters is promised as the pathway to peace. Real peace comes from casting off fear and trusting in Christ's love.

Choosing to Trust

"Just trust me."

Why does it seem that these fateful words are always followed by unfortunate circumstances? It's as if we can anticipate when trust should not be given and therefore we are asked of it unceremoniously. As if trust that must be coerced is reliable.

The problem with trust is that, much like a loan, those who need it the most are the ones who often have the most trouble getting it. Because trust, like money, is only given to those who have a proven history of reliability. When a history of failed promises exists, trust is often difficult to come by.

What I've learned though is that sometimes we have to choose to trust anyway. Because if we expect failure, people are often all too-willing to live up to our expectations. Although the pain to us might be immense when people let us down again, the reward is immeasurable when they surprise.

In many ways, this is also living out Christ's call on our lives. Because in His infinite wisdom He assuredly knows that we will fail Him. Yet, He gives us a role and a purpose in seeing His plan come to pass. And if that's not an overabundance of unwarranted trust, I don't know what is.

Not Understanding

My dad likes to call me a professional student and I suppose there's truth to that description. While some people hate school, I love it. It's not that I think homework or projects are the best thing since slice bread (who does?) but I love the process of learning. Some people might ask, "If you love it so much, why'd you rush through it?" but frankly that's another story for another day.

My relentless quest of inquiry is great for studies, but less than magnificent when it comes to relationships. I guess its because within education there's a certain expectation that understanding can be achieved. I apply that to people and I'm often left short. Despite my intuitive nature (according to Meyers-Brigg), and years of study, people still surprise me. Sometimes in good ways, but unfortunately those are the instances that are hard to remember. It's the hurts, trials, and careless words that pierce my soul. These happenings dig even deeper when I can't fathom the reason for their existence. It's one thing if I can anticipate that someone might be upset with me (like the person I accidentally cut off on the freeway) it's a completely different thing when someone I'm close to is less than thoughtful with their actions. It seems to hurt even worse precisely because the cause of it remains a mystery.

What I'm trying to learn though is that understanding is not a prerequiste for trust. Just like I want to remind the upset person on the freeway that we all cut people off sometimes, I try to remind myself that I'm sure I've unintentionally hurt others before. Just because I'm guilty of this fallacy, I don't want my friends to write me off. Instead I want them to understand that sometimes life isn't what we intend, but that my commitment to them, while maybe not evident in that particular action, is still meaningful and strong. Complete understanding isn't required for relationships (after all, how many of us can say we understand God). Love triumphs understanding, even in pain.

I am certain that despite my commitment to inquiry there are things in life that will forever remain a mystery. I'm also convinced that sometimes a lack of understanding is for our good for complete understanding would destroy the beauty of the unexpected blessing. So I aim not for understanding, but for love, trusting that it really is "the greatest of these." (I Cor. 13:13b)

Waiting for Strength

Somehow, in the midst of bouncing from school to school, I missed the Presidential Fitness Test. I'm not totally sure how it happened but I remember being anxious for it because I watched my sister having to sweat through performing the various tasks. Apparently I switched to private school just in the knick of time and I lucked out. Never was I to suffer the public humiliation of trying to meet all those standards.

As a result of skipping the milestone, there is no documented time that I was able to do a pull-up. Because I tended to be one of those girls who flung themselves around the even bars at school, I'm guessing that at some point in my life I probably could have done one, but there's no way to verify it. Consequently its become my goal to try to complete one. And as someone with minimal upper body strength and narrow shoulders this isn't a task that's easily accomplished. Slow and steady will win the race though, I'm told, and so I'm diligently embarking on a strength resistance program to build those muscles. As someone who gets easily bored with any type of weight-lifting program, it's not easy, especially considering there's not much of a foundation to build upon. But I figure the hard work will pay off eventually. As least I hope so.

The reason for this sudden detour in discussing my fitness routine is that recently I was struck by how different it is in God's economy. The thought occurred to me as I listened to Chris Tomlin's song "Everlasting God". In God's economy, you gain strength by waiting, not by working. Isaiah 40:31 says, "But those who who wait on their Lord will renew their strength, they will soar on wings as eagles . . ." You accomplish much by doing little. To achieve great things, you anticipate the work of another. If the same principles applied when it came to doing a pull-up, I would have been the Presidential Fitness Test long ago. But when reaching for God's goal, its not the work that we do that matters. Its the time that we spend in anticipation of His.

I wish that patience brought upper body strength in the same way that it brought spiritual strength. Although it doesn't, I'm glad that God's strength doesn't come as a result of the work I do. I would much rather that the Sustainer of All Things impart it to me as an act of grace. Any attempts on my part would be more futile than trying to do a pull-up.

Mountain Climbing

Its hard to see the pasture when the mountain looms in front of us. In the past year, I've had people in my life who have gone through some terrible things. For them, the promise of better things ahead, at least in the immediate future, rings false. They are not experiencing restoration of their soul (Psalm 23). Instead, they are poised for danger, ready to defend themselves against attack.

Interestingly, most of the time when people climb to the tops of these mountains, they are the loudest proclaimers of God's faithfulness. It's like the mountaintop view allows them to see more clearly, both where they are going and where they've been. They still might have unanswered questions about the experience they've been through, most of us do, but God's grace has been demonstrated unequivocally in their life, and they know for certain that the One who formed the mountain will guide them to the other side. Remarkably, oftentimes the more they've had to climb, the greater their trust in God is. As Franics Shaeffer wrote, "The higher the mountains, the more understandable is the glory of Him who made them and who holds them in His hand."

What heights of love, and what depths of peace we can see from a mountaintop view!

The Multitude of Loneliness

I think it's a feeling that we've all had. You're surrounded by people and yet you feel utterly alone. The logic of it is inexplicable. In fact, it defies all sound explanation. People are everywhere and yet you feel like no one is around. Numerous individuals cloud the stage and you're imagining yourself at the third grade talent show staring back at the hundreds of faces that return your gaze. It's a solo performance and you're abandoned in a sea of humanity. Despite the multitude there is no solace.

I have yet to figure out what causes the feeling. It's not the people you're with or the environment one finds oneself in because I've had radically divergent feelings in comparable situations. Nor is the feeling solely emanating from an internal war, as evident by the fact that similar feelings can create different results. Best I can tell, at least from my experience, there is no one reason that causes this feeling to occur. But when it does, it can be terrifying.

I think it's because we all want to believe that there's something to depend on. Even in the midst of life's struggles we want to know that someone will be there that can support us and help guide us on our way. We want to believe that facing the world alone is not required, because quite frankly, the world can be an utterly scary place. Soldiers are some of the toughest, and most independent people I know, but they are also the ones that tend to value their relationships most profoundly. They know the value of having someone else with them in the foxhole. Feeling of loneliness aren't scary because you are actually physically alone; their terror comes from the feeling that everything is reliant on you. You are the cause and solution and nothing you can do can change that.

It might be for this reason that Jesus reminded us so many times that we are not alone. Before Joshua went into battle, before Jesus departed the Earth, reminders were given that God would be with His followers wherever they went. Not only is the comforting because it's a good thing to know God's on your side, but it's also a reminder that the execution of His work is not dependent on you. The Cause and the Solution of every situation is with you each step of the way. You are not alone, the Impetus of All Things is right there with you.

Sometimes its hard to remember this before you're scheduled to sing in front of the crowd. Sometimes feeling alone is a hard feeling to shake. Thank goodness God keeps His promise regardless of our feelings. And thank goodness that feelings change.

The Unexpected

Finding forgotten money in your pocket.

A letter from a long-lost friend.

A stolen kiss.

These things and more are special not just because of their essence but because their arrival is unexpected.

Most of the time when we consider expectations we think of expectations unfulfilled. Life is built on a series of beliefs regarding what's going to happen next and how life is going to turn out to be. Life rarely, if ever, matches our anticipation. Instead, in both good ways and bad, it takes a turn towards the unexpected.

The challenge is to welcome those things that are not what we thought of them; to embrace those times that turned out different from our plans. If we trust in our Maker and are following His commands, we have to believe that these shifts and changes are for His glory. The more we fight them, the more we are fighting His will for our life, and are restlessly adverting what He's called us to be.

Having expectations is not bad. Clinging to them despite changing circumstances is. When we resist, we risk being incontent and we miss out on all the good that comes from the unexpected.