Lord, Give Me a Reception to Correction

A couple of days ago, I was on my way to work after dropping the kids off at school. I’m not proud to say it, but I was putting on my makeup in the car while driving, something I’ve gotten into the habit of doing. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time; I was paying sufficient attention to the road in front of me.

As I pulled up to a stoplight, a lady pulled up next to me, honked her horn to get my attention and started flailing her arms, pointing at me and mouthing in a not so nice way what looked like, “quit doing what you are doing and pay attention.”

I just kind of stared back at her in disbelief. My first thought was, “How dare she. Doesn’t she know that I have a great driving record? I haven’t been in a car accident in 15 years, and that one wasn’t even my fault.”

Then the light turned green, and we went our separate ways. As I pondered the encounter, I began to think, “Maybe I should pay more attention. Maybe I shouldn’t just blow her off. Maybe this is God’s way of telling me to pay attention. Maybe this is His way of warning me—of sparing me from some tragic accident. Maybe I should heed this advice.”

Then this Psalm that I came across a couple of months ago came to mind: “Let the godly strike me! It will be a kindness! If they correct me, it is soothing medicine. Don’t let me refuse it.” (Psalm 141:5)

I want to have a humble heart that is open to correction—that receives it without pride. Correction is sometimes so very hard to hear from another person, but God may be using that person—my husband, a friend, or a crazy lady flailing her arms—to speak to me. So I’ve made the decision to make a conscious effort to pay more attention while driving and to stop doing little things that could distract me.

Lord, give me a tender heart, so that other’s words can bring healing in my life.

Embracing the Valley

This past year has been a bit of a valley for me. In August of last year, we sold our house with intentions of buying another one with a little more space. In the meantime, we moved into my husband’s grandmother’s house, affectionately known as “The Farm,” during the transition.

After many, many house showings with our extremely patient and wonderful realtor (shout-out to Dathan Phillips), my husband Gary declared that I was looking for Eden, and we gave up our search. Instead, we opted to buy a little acreage and build a house next to some very good friends.

Well, fast-forward a year later, and we are still at “The Farm,” and we have not even started building. Let’s just say that this whole process, from buying land to drawing up plans to dirt work and getting bids, has taken a lot longer than I ever would have imagined.

Before I go on, I want to say that we are extremely grateful and thankful to family members who were gracious enough to let us stay at “The Farm” for the past year. Also, I know that many people are going through situations far more difficult—health issues, death of family members, divorce and the list goes on. This just happens to be my particular valley…

The first night we moved in at “The Farm,” I remember brown well water in the bathtub. “Don’t drink it—you’ll get giardia,” said Gary. Good to know. I have some things to learn about country living. I spent probably the next solid month cleaning and making room for our family of four, leaving me exhausted. You see, Gary’s grandmother is living in a nursing home. But all of her things from the past 50 years are at the house. So naturally, all of our things would not fit.

Any how, I kind of feel like I’ve been camping for the past year, or on the show Survivor. It seems like everything that could have gone wrong with an older home has gone wrong. I can’t remember the exact order of events, but here are some highlights. The kitchen sink backed up. Yep, no washing dishes for about three days. The water line in the yard busted, leaving a muddy lake in the yard. Again, no water in the house. During the winter months, the heating and air conditioning unit froze up to a solid block of ice too many times to count. I woke up to the house at 50 degrees on several mornings and went through more firewood than I thought possible. Let’s see, after a hard rain the roof leaked leaving a stench of mildew in our bedroom for a few days. The hot water heater has quit on us—I did the old “heat water on the stove” thing.

Aside from all the mishaps, the biggest struggle for me living at the farm has been feeling isolated and lonely at times. We are about 40 minutes away from our old house. I love to have people over, and it’s just difficult when you’re so far away and out of your element.

So where am I going with all of this? What does the God lens have to say about it all?

I remember one down day this past winter when I began searching scripture with tears in my eyes for the words of Paul, who was imprisoned for his faith.

He said, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:11-13)

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself, comparing living at “The Farm” to being in prison. Really, Erica?

And then I stumbled upon the most wonderfully-timed book for my life, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, who urges, “There is always, always something to be thankful for.”

I began reflecting on the good in my circumstance. “The Farm” house is located in the middle of hundreds of miles of farmland directly on the Ouachita River. Yes, the floor in the 50-year old kitchen may be peeling up and the cabinets falling off the hinges, but who has miles of pastureland and fruit trees and cornfields and river all at their doorstep? I have the beauty of God’s creation at my bedside. Talk about looking for Eden. Yes, there is always something to be thankful for.  

I can’t help but think that with all the delays on our house, God may have wanted me here for a reason. Even though some days are painful and exasperating and hard, I may be just where He wants me to be at this time in my life, as much as I don’t like it.

Aside from God fine-tuning my character, there have been additional benefits to living here: More time with in-laws—as humorous as this sounds. Truthfully, I think that we have grown closer to Gary’s family through it all, which is a good thing. His parents are right down the road. His uncle farms the land, so we see him often. Cousins and aunts and uncles are always dropping by. Did I mention his cousin actually lived with us for a few months when we first moved in?

Words from our church’s minister Mike Kellot come to mind: “God is more interested in your character than your comfort.” He cares more about your transformation that your current state of happiness. “He loves the Ultimate You just as much as the Immediate You.” (Ann Voskamp)

So how does he transform the Immediate You into the Ultimate You that He wants you to be? He lets us go through the valleys. Though they are hard and long, there is always something to be gained.

My joy does not depend on my circumstance. One thing’s for sure: As long as I am on this earth, there will still be suffering. Even if I where to build the perfect house, there would still be suffering in my life. So, “I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14)

I embrace the valley. Because I am becoming more of who God is crafting me to be. I rejoice in the circumstance that makes me call on Him like never before. As of today, we don’t even have a start date on the house. And tomorrow I may feel weary. But I continually apply the lens of truth to my life, so that  “I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

“Potential” is a Dirty Word

I never thought I would start a blog post talking about football. Sorry, it’s just not my thing. But my husband Gary said something the other day that stuck with me. He said that in the NFL, “potential” is a dirty word.

When coaches and media talk about a player having potential, it means that although they are capable of great achievement, they have not yet captured it. There is a disconnect between what they should be able to do and what they are actually doing. In the NFL, no one wants to be labeled as having great potential.

Here is how that hits home. I grew up in a loving and supportive family with godly parents. My parents modeled to me what an authentic relationship with Christ looks like. They showed me Jesus in action. Basically, I have been given every opportunity to succeed and to thrive in my own relationship with Christ and to do God’s will. I know that not all have been so privileged, and I will never know the degree to which I should be grateful not having walked in the shoes of those less fortunate.

Today, I reflect on the question, “Have I captured my potential?” And to be honest, I feel a little uneasy. The answer stings a bit.

I made the decision to follow Christ, to be a disciple of his, when I was 12 years old—to follow this call: “Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.” (Mark 16:15)

Sometimes that call grows stale and distant. Words from well-known pastor Francis Chan surface from inside. They are eerily branded on my mind: “Are you truly a disciple of Christ if you are not making disciples?”

Ouch. It hurts to think about the opportunities that I have wasted. So what do I do to change things, to shift momentum?

I pray: God, make the most of me. Use every ounce of me for your purpose. I don’t want to squander opportunity. When I feel the Spirit pressing, I want to respond. When I have an inkling of, “I should do this,” I don’t want to wait.  

I want to trade uncaptured potential for purpose in practice—to trade the possible for the actual.

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)

I pray for courage to do his known and revealed will.

“This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” (1 Timothy 2:4)

How do I do his will practically? How do I capture potential? For starters, I have two little disciples in training right here at home. I have 18 years—talk about opportunity—to point them to Christ. So I model Christ to them.

I bring people into my home. I foster relationships for Him. I build new relationships for Him, breaking out of what is comfortable. I speak boldly on His behalf. Whatever I’m good at, I use the mess out of it. I expose it for the glory of the one who gave me that talent.

When I come to the end of my life, I don’t want to be known for having had great potential. I think of this old saying: “Reach for the moon. Even if you miss you'll land among the stars.” Well, the God who made both the moon and the stars, “who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20), can take my simple obedience to Him and add to the number of those who are saved. They will land beyond the moon and the stars—in a land much grander where potential is always captured.

“May the God of peace…equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (Hebrews 13:20-21)

Why Blog?

I love Christian philosopher Edith Schaeffer’s statement: “Whatever form art takes, it gives outward expression to what otherwise would remain locked in the mind unshared…Art in various forms expresses and gives opportunity to others to share in, and respond to, things which would otherwise remain vague, empty yearnings.”

I truly identify with this sentiment. And those yearnings she speaks of—I feel them. That art form, in my case, is writing. One can learn so much about another’s heart and mind through his or her writing. And on the flip side, to be the releaser of thoughts and ideas through writing is freeing.

Martin Luther once said, “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.” And then there’s Jesus Christ, who commanded me as a follower of his: “Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone.” (Mark 16:15)

I don’t know about changing the whole world. That seems like a pretty big task. But I’ll write for anyone who may stumble across my words and care to listen.

Let me quote another wise man, who just so happens to be my husband Gary. He makes the task seem a little less daunting. “Tend your own garden. Do the work that is in front of you.” So I will tend my little garden; I’ll write for my little world.

But I don’t want this blog to be about me so much; I want it to be about what God is doing in me—through the wisdom of scripture, the power of prayer, the conviction of the Holy Spirit and the counsel of Godly friends.

Why the name “God Lens,” you may ask? Because my life looks different—clearer— when the God lens, that lens of truth, is applied to it—laid over it.

“For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.” (Hebrews 4:12)

I remember when I was in the fourth grade; I got my first pair of glasses, big and pink as they were. I sat in the back of the classroom at school and could hardly make out the words on the chalkboard. I was amazed at what those new lenses did for me. So this is what seeing is like, I thought to myself.

When my life is filtered through scripture and prayer; truth is revealed, lies are exposed and beauty is found in the mundane. I am beckoned to live transparently. In one of her books, Sheila Walsh refers to Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonica; he confessed: “We loved you so much that we shared with you not only God’s Good News but our own lives, too.” (1 Thessalonians 2:8) Walsh says, “That is my template. I believe in the power of the Word of God and the transparency of our own journeys.”

And how does the power of the Word work itself out practically in my own life? That’s what I want to explore here—not abstract theological philosophies that have no bearing on how I live, but how God’s word shapes my days, my attitudes and my actions. How does it transform me from the inside out? What does Christ-life look like for this 34-year-old mother of two when the God lens is laid over it?