Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?

It's the oft-comical question of the hour, or more realistically, the minute. But it is most definitely our hearts' serious and desperate cry- our knees banging the cold concrete begging God like the Psalmist (David)- "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?...How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?... Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death..." (Psalm 13)

I was reading this today and reflecting that when I memorized this chapter of Psalm back in high school I had no idea how many times I would come back to these words- with new eyes, new experiences, and new hurts. I had no idea how the rhythm of 'how long?' would bang around in my heart so regularly and so earnestly. It's a melody I've heard before. Dissonant notes I thought I left behind that just seem to come back in the next verse, the repeating chorus, or the ever-emotional bridge.

How long is God going to leave us in our places of pain, of grief, of despair? How long will we feel forgotten by Him? How long until we feel peace? How. Long. Must we wait?

Time can feel excruciatingly long. I know firsthand. Yet I know His timing is perfect. I desire all the answers and explanations yet I know He is the only Answer I really need. The sorrow can be like suffocating death, yet I know He is Light and Life.

I have walked this tension with Him before. He is a good Father. He loves me. He is perfect in all of His ways. I know these things are true, but I've also felt them like knives in my already bleeding heart. Suffering and pain are the seeming antithesis to every note that song pulses.

And when I feel that darkness I don't want to worship God. I don't want to love Him. I don't want to talk to Him. The tension between tragedy and purpose is hard to grasp and rarely reaches the depths of our feelings.

Yet.

Yet I know the truth. Yet I know who He is. I've walked this before and I know I will walk it again.

David has experienced that same oscillating strain- grief and peace, fear and love, despair and hope. He goes on to say- "But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord's praise, for he has been good to me." (v 5-6)

A lot of times trust and love are choices not feelings.

Even when the sorrow in my heart is a battle of suffocating death, I will choose to trust in His unfailing love, I will choose to rejoice in His salvation, and I will choose to sing His praise. Yes, I will. Because I know the truth and I know who God is and I choose to believe it day after 'uncertain' day. It's as simple and as challenging as that.

I don't have to be able to explain how the ways I feel hurt are 'perfect.' And I don't think I ever will. But I can still praise God for who He is and trust Him. He is faithful and He is good. And there lies one of the mysteries we have to live with: that somehow in these moments of hurt, He is loving me. I don't need to feel it or be able to explain it but I can trust it because He is trustworthy and He is sovereign.

It is not lost on me that my last blog post was back in January of 2019 where I reflected on similar things. The beginning of the year is a popular time to evaluate our choices. My word for last year was 'choose,' and the fact that I'm revisiting this again this year is a reminder that it's not a one-and-done thing we accomplish. It is sanctification- God changing who we are. It is very much a rhythm. It is alternating between strong and weak moments. It is repetition.

It is a song being formed by the Composer of all composers. He is making a masterpiece and we need to trust that the dissonant sounds and bangings that plague our hearts will somehow be beautiful when we experience the music of His presence, see His face, and behold all of His power and glory.

We just aren't there yet.

With Open Hands

I’ll ride the ‘Pick Your Word for the New Year’ train. I wasn’t planning to, but my word chose me. And ironically my word is ‘CHOOSE’.

It will affect many areas of my life, including just being more decisive: Mike would love if I could finally tell him what I feel like eating for dinner! I get it, I can have a whole list of political opinions on a controversial issue but I can’t choose between beef or chicken??

But in a truer more real sense, it’s an active choice to surrender to God.

Last summer, at a conference we took our youth group students to, we were challenged with a question: What do you kneel to instead of God? After some reflection I realized I often put knowledge above God. Information above trust. Evidence above faith.

One of the songs we sang contained these lyrics: 

“I’ll never catch Your light
Living with knuckles white
Keeping my fists held tight
I’ll never touch Your heart
Or take in all You are
Trying to hide my scars
I’m letting go of holding on

Here I am with open hands
I have nothing left to prove
God I give it all to You
Empty me of everything

Til there’s nothing left but You

I just want to live for You"

[Open Hands by Urban Rescue]

And it struck me that my thirst and high regard for knowledge and learning, though a good thing, was me white-knuckling something that doesn’t hold a candle to the Creator. The very Author of knowledge, the Maker of my very capacity to think and learn. I needed to let go of my need for knowledge, which is essentially a need for control. How does it go- knowledge is power?

I need to CHOOSE God over knowledge. I need to choose trust. I need to choose to have open hands.

Psalm 145: 8-9, 16 says, “The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made… You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing.”

My desire for knowledge or control is often fueled by pride or fear. But I need to let God be God. When I read these verses, how can I not choose open hands? I’m not just opening up my life to whatever wind blows through hoping I’m not swept away. No, I’m opening myself to my Creator who loves me, is for me, is good. If He is good, merciful, generous, gracious, enough, then fear is unfounded. Furthermore, my God is a God with open hands. He is not a God who hoards, withholds, or suppresses. He gives. Lavishly. He wants to give us what we need and He alone can fulfill our desires- and he does so in abundance with no strings attached.

To live with open hands is freedom unspeakable.

Trust and faith isn’t a feeling, just like love isn’t a feeling. It’s a choice. God is deserving of glory and praise regardless of how I feel about my circumstances and unanswered questions.

In the spirit of song lyrics, this song also speaks to ‘my word’:

“I count on one thing
The same God that never fails
Will not fail me now
In the waiting
The same God who’s never late
Is working all things out

Yes I will, lift you high in the lowest valley
Yes I will, sing for joy when my heart is heavy

I choose to praise
To glorify
The name of all names”
[Yes I Will, Vertical Worship, shortened]

Again, I am not trusting an unknown- I am choosing to put my trust in a faithful God.

“Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30]

Though it seems contradictory, Jesus says he offers us rest when we take his yoke upon us. The yoke is an object of submission. We are allowing him to be our Master. And instead of the heavy burdens we place on ourselves or feel from others, Jesus’ burden is easy and light.

Author Hannah Anderson writes in her book, Humble Roots:

 “When we believe that with enough effort, enough organization, or enough commitment, we can fix things that are broken, we set ourselves in God’s place. And when we do, we reap stress, restlessness, and anxiety. Instead of submitting to His yoke, we break it and run wild, trampling the very ground we are meant to cultivate. It is understandable that we fear the yoke. We fear the loss of control. We fear surrender. But we must also understand that without the protections of a good master, we are not safe. From the manipulation of other masters. From the expectations of society. From ourselves… We must come to Him to be tamed. And when we are, He promises that we will find rest for our souls.”

To live with open hands is not fear. It’s safety. And boy is that hard to believe when you have to actually let go of something you’ve been gripping for awhile.  I don’t think I’ll be able to uncurl all ten fingers by tomorrow. But I am confident that God can little by little open my hands, just like his. That with his help, I can daily CHOOSE trust. CHOOSE faith. CHOOSE love. CHOOSE praise. CHOOSE his yoke instead of mine. CHOOSE surrender.

So 2019, I have no idea what joys or heartaches you are going to bring into my life, but here I am, with nothing left to give, trying to live with open hands.

Know.

I read Psalm 46 today. And I started writing. And God reminded me about some pretty significant truths. I wanted to share them with you.

Psalm 46: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling...The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress...'Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!'...The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress."

I think sometimes we associate this well-known verse 'be still and know I'm God' with quiet. With peace. I picture standing in tranquil woods, breathing in fresh air, or sitting in a cozy chair by a fire, drinking hot chocolate and writing. And meditating on those words. There's nothing wrong with either scenario but I think it misses the entirety of this passage.

These verses depict utter disaster and destruction, chaos. The earth collapsing, moving, shaking, roaring. All nations warring, governments unstable and coming to ruin. It's movement, fighting, loud, dirty, shocking, unpredictable. It's over-whelming, overpowering, chaos, hopeless. How do you combat that?

And it's in the middle of that- what feels like the end of the world- when God commands us to 'be still and know.' When it's the last thing you want to do. When all seems lost, out of control, damaging, horrific.

Stop running. Stop hyperventilating. Stop screaming. Stop.
Be still.
Stop doubting. Stop despairing. Stop fearing. Stop.
And know.

Let things rage and roar around you because you can be confident in the Lord. Why?
He speaks.
He can whisper a word and the earth melts! He is sovereign over all. He controls the waters, the mountains, the beasts, the rise and fall of nations.

We are not alone. And we can trust that he will prevail against it all. Yes, because he loves us tremendously, but mostly because he is jealous for his name. He will make his name great. He will be exalted. There is no question. It's not a possibility, a potential, or even a probable. It's a definitive.
He will be exalted.

Be still and know.

The storms raging in my life. My mountains, my churning waters, my darkness, my tremblings, my fears, my questions. My chaos. Is in God's wheelhouse. Is nothing he can't overcome. Is nothing he doesn't already fully understand. Is already defeated, answered, held, moved, stilled, healed, restored, illuminated. Is under his loving control.

Be still. Be confident. Wait patiently. Know.

I don't get to know all the details, all the whys, all the how's, when's, who's. I don't get to know the why not's, the not yet's the ten minute day and the ten hour night. I don't get to know everything I want to.

But I know Him.
And that's all that matters.

To know Him is enough. To know Him is to know the deepest love, the unimaginable peace, the incomprehensible grace, the abounding joy, the certain future, the undeserved mercy, the dependable hope, the healing touch, and the irrefutable truth.

And it is enough.

There is chaos. And there is rest. There is fear. And there is wisdom.
Take refuge, accept his strength.
He is here. He always has been. He always will be.

Be still and know Him.
It is enough.

Thank you

Well, it’s been over two years since my last blog post. I felt energized by something I read the other day and decided I needed to write about it. I wish I had more time and inspiration to blog more often than biennially but here goes.

My last blog post was inspired by an excerpt from Tim Keller’s book on prayer. What I have written today is from Max Lucado’s book on prayer. I find it fitting that these posts should be side by side. The first- written in an emotionally and spiritually dark time of my life when prayer was the last thing I wanted to do. The second- written after a long and continuous time of growth, waiting, trusting, hoping, and learning how to pray again.

God has never left me, though I gave him every reason. God has never left me, though I didn’t always feel him. God has never left me, and his faithfulness is unchanging.

Lucado reminds us that Scripture commands us over a hundred times to give thanks. He ponders- if Adam and Eve had chosen gratitude instead of discontent, how different would our world look today?

In a world where it’s easy to say ‘more!’, where there’s always something bigger, better, faster, stronger, where we have a small taste of eternity and misplace our longing into basically everything else, here is my attempt to choose gratitude. To give thanks as God commands. To give thanks because, how can I not?

And as Lucado suggests: Alphabetize your blessings instead of cataloging your burdens.

My little hometown of Alta. No stoplights or shopping centers, lots of corn fields and windmills, and tranquility for days! There are pros and cons of living in a small town but I look back on those days with fondness. I love coming home. I grew up here. I know Gaby will think it’s a pretty special place too.

I am thankful for the Breeze. The curling taste of relief, refreshment, respite, however brief, from the heat. The reminder that the fire doesn’t last forever. The breeze, the breath of God will squelch the flames- and if not in this life, the breeze reminds me of eternity’s sanctuary from the sparks of this broken world.

Crayons. A brand new box of colorful, unbroken, pointy crayons.

We have been able to host a lot of awesome people at the Dojo and we are very thankful to have the house we do. From draft parties and costume parties to youth group escape rooms and whiffle ball, game nights and dinners, to friends and family who need a place to stay. Long live the Dojo.

I am thankful for Exclamation points! Snow day! Cubs win! I passed! It’s a girl! Good job! I found it! We’re going to Disneyland! Triumphs. Victories. Accomplishments. Reliefs. Encouragements. Rewards. Surprises. I am thankful for all the times that merit this simple punctuation mark.

What kind of ‘thank you’ list would this be without all the F’s: family, friends, forgiveness, fall, Fridays, facts, forests, fantasy football, Finland, fireworks, flip-flops, forever, french fries, firsts, Frosted Flakes, fountains, flowers, Frank Sinatra, festivals, feet (because otherwise no flip-flops), and fish (just kidding. no fish.)

Go to YouTube and search ‘baby laughing’ and you cannot resist a smile. Baby Giggles: the pure, unadulterated, unconditional exhibition of joy and bliss. There is literally nothing on this earth that could keep me from smiling when my Gaby Girl looks me in the eye and bubbles into giggles.

My Husband, Michael Shields, is the love of my life and best friend. Six wonderful years of marriage. Of laughing fits and tears of despair. Of stress and bliss. Of Super Nintendo and sand volleyball. Of bottle-flipping videos and kitchen dance parties. Of traveling the world and sitting on the couch watching TV. Of everything I could dream of. Of things we have yet to discover and experience together.

J.I. Packer’s book Knowing God. I could read it a hundred times and never come away empty. Among many things, he reminds me: “This is momentous knowledge. There is unspeakable comfort in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love, and watching over me for my good. There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself. There is equally great incentive to worship and love God in the thought that for some unfathomable reason, he wants me as his friend, and desires to be my friend, and has given his son to die for me in order to realize this purpose.” Read it again. And again.

The muted glow of a campfire. A flashlight piercing the darkness. The warm rays of the sun resting like a blanket. I am thankful for Light. It obliterates the shadows. It exposes, illuminates, guides, and saves. “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

How long could we go without Music? I can’t write music. So when I hear music, I feel known. So many songs I hear feel like they exploded right out of my heart. They say what I could never express or never knew I needed to. How awesome is it, when you hear the words of the song or feel the melody and think ‘Yes. That’s me.’ I am known.

So much of who we are is inseparable from our memories. Our past doesn’t define us but it does shape us. It does affect how we live today. Some are able to live in the present or constantly look towards the future. And that’s great- I am trying to be better about that, but I just have a special place in my life for my memories. Nostalgia is a regular part of my day. I never want to forget all the people and experiences that have led to this point. Who would I be without my memories?

Or. Mike knows I have a difficult time making decisions. But I am grateful for choice. There is a weight and freedom that's wrapped up in a seemingly insignificant two letter word.

Prayer is hard, but simple. It breaks me down, but builds me up. It challenges me, but frees me. I love that God gave us prayer. He lowered the communication line. And he listens to it, whether I paid the electric bill or not. Whether I’m yelling or whispering. Whether my sentences end in question marks, exclamation points, periods, or contain a million commas and parentheses. He wants to hear from me. The Creator of the entire universe desires my prayers.

Quiet.

Watch TV, peruse Facebook, talk to just about anyone and you see hurt. We hurt because we’re broken. We hurt because there are hurricanes, shootings, violence, fires, lost relationships. There is inner turmoil, guilt, shame, regret. Praise the Lord we aren’t left to fend for ourselves in our state of desperation. We have Rescue and Redemption. I love how the author of ‘Truest’ phrases it: “Rescue wears masks, you know. It’s why people say it’s darkest before the dawn. Sometimes things take a long time to make sense. Could be years and years…Or they might never make sense. But that doesn’t mean you stop trusting that the world is being rescued… God favors redemption over perfection.”

I love Stars. They are mesmerizing and mind-blowing and just plain pretty. If there is anything in the world that can make you feel small, it’s a sky full of blazing gas bodies billions of miles away. And sometimes I need to feel small.

I am thankful for ‘Too’ and ‘Together’. Common ground. Standing beside each other. Sustaining, uniting, encouraging. Because the Enemy isolates and wants me to feel alone. But he is a liar.

Something I don’t always realize I should be grateful for: the Unknown. I am a person who likes to know things. I get excited about learning. I’m one of those annoying people who starts a lot of their sentences with ‘Actually’. I don’t always act like it, but I am glad that God doesn’t let me know everything. Because then why would I need him? Why would I ever have to trust him? The unknown is the necessary thorn in the side of the prideful.

Vacations. The opportunity to step away from the routines and say ‘Let’s live a little.’ Toes in the sand. Sun on my face. Trails through the trees. Walking, riding, flying, boating. Resting. Unloading. Slowing. Down.

I have never been short on Words. If you’ve made it this far, you know that. But that’s because words are so important to me. Words are powerful. Like music, they illicit such deep emotions. Inspiring, convicting, strengthening. I’m constantly recording quotes from books I like and lyrics from songs. Words teach us. We grow by them- spiritually, emotionally, intellectually, socially. I bought a dictionary from a garage sale, so believe me when I tell you how much I love them.

X-rays and xylophones, obviously.

“For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ. And so through him the ‘Amen’ is spoken by us to the glory of God.” (2 Corinthians 1:20) I am thankful for yes.

And finally, we had the amazing opportunity to visit New Zealand last year. This is a very unique place. Besides the fact that it’s absolutely gorgeous there, they also have no predatory wildlife. In my book, that is a great place to enjoy God’s creation. And maybe one day move to the island to become a sheep rancher. (Right Mike?)

This was a helpful way for me to ponder my life outside my current circumstances and spend time thanking God because I don’t do that enough. Too many of my prayers start with ‘Please’. If you resonate with any of my struggles with prayer, I would highly recommend these books: “Prayer” by Tim Keller, “Before Amen” by Max Lucado, or “If You Will Ask” by Oswald Chambers.

Let me leave you with a quote from Tim Keller’s book:

“Prayer is the way to experience a powerful confidence that God is handling our lives well, that our bad things will turn out for good, our good things cannot be taken from us, and the best things are yet to come.”

Still

[this is the Lord's Prayer in my own words as God has put it on my heart as of late]

You said to come. 'The door is open' you said. 'Come boldly' you said.  Well here I am. Here. Low. Though not by choice. Show me I can believe you. Don't let your whispers be so faint.

Father and child. Adopted by grace, but I need the space to face you for real. I brought my appeal. It's in my pocket with a couple of shiny pennies. Is two cents enough to access the excess of your mercy? To make sense and confess of my empty fisted hands. Two coins for royalty.

You don't have to hear me, to let me close, or to care. But I carry your name. Please let me keep it. Though I'm low, gratitude is deep and grounded. I am surrounded by wisps of black, my joy confounded. So don't let me sink, don't think to let me stain the beauty of my namesake with gray tendrils of selfishness.

I need a correction of my imperfections. Nudge my emotions in the right direction. I elect you to rule my thoughts. Royal boundaries extending to eternity's tomorrow. I yearn for the end of this lurking sorrow. But more than that.  The ache is a pandemic- a global groaning for your supremacy, endlessly seeking your justice and violet transcendence. Please come.

And this is my appeal. Or more like the opposite. I'm confident I have it right. My control is a focused line. Dominant. And yet the line is fading. Graphite. Straying, parading in vacant alleys where rays once knew. I thought it was my story but it's yours. I want my way still, but God, your will. Until I can mean this, until I can sing this, your will.

Day after day you satisfy and provide, all my needs supplied. I can't deny you're faithful. The sun still rises, the spring brings green. What seems routine is you, behind the scenes, saying "Here. For you." And do I notice? Wild flowers, green blades, but my tree isn't blooming. I fume with no regard for yesterday's life and tomorrow's hope and I'm sorry.

My pride is a mile long chain I drag at my side. I try to pry it off. To break it. But I can't. I've raked barren fields with it, I've piled it in the corner. And the chain is still the main weapon I wield in the worthless battles I wage that gain me nothing but heartache. Forgive me the stains I've left behind and I'll forgive the pain the links intertwined. Now to do it joyfully.

In front, don't let my iron strand keep me from you. Don't let me entertain offense, the crimson scratchings on white paper. My own decree at the expense of needing you- it shreds and burns. Behind, don't let my rags and scars construct a fence to keep you out, a grid of despair and doubt- it strips and bars. Protect me from both.

And when I'm at the end of me and finally find I'm free, the stormy sea won't stop its surge. The blackened dirt and fleas. Blowing, blinding, biting, burying. Begging. A rage I can't defeat. Two wood beams have weathered worse, and this my shining silver key. Lord, accept my undeserved plea- unclench my fists, though I resist, and sweep my storm beneath your feet. You are enough and always will be, I only need to see.

Destination: Maui

As you may know, Mike's diligence and hard work as a financial advisor with Edward Jones the past year has paid off. He earned what they call a diversification trip. We picked Maui from a list of destinations to spend a relaxing week of vacation. This post is for those of you who care :) I'll probably put more photos on facebook later, but I thought this would be an easy way to fill you in. I have over 400 pictures to pick from so here is the short synopsis:

Our resort was at the Four Seasons Hotel right on the beach. By far the fanciest place I've ever stayed: valet parking, twice a day turn down service, pineapple and brownie bites by the pool, a Wolfgang Puck restaurant. They even give you a wet cloth when checking-in which Mike and I obviously had no idea what we were supposed to do with! 

 

We were there for about a week and had pretty full days of activities. We drove up Haleakala, the dormant volcano on the island, and hiked around inside the crater. It was only 46 degrees at the top!

We also spent a day driving the famous Road to Hana- about 60 miles of coastal road with over 600 hairpin curves and over 50 one-lane bridges. Along the way we saw an arboretum, black sand beach, lava tube, numerous waterfalls and ocean views. Past the town of Hana we hiked up to a bamboo forest that opened up to the largest waterfall I've ever seen- water dropping over 400 ft. 

You may recognize the rock behind us from Jurassic Park.

This is a close-up photo of a rainbow eucalyptus tree- the bark is literally all of these colors.

 

 

 

The black sand beach- all the black rocks and sand is from lava.

 

Bamboo forest

 January-March is prime whale watching season in Hawaii so we took a boat tour out to see them. These pictures are of the Pacific Humpback whales.

We made use of the resort's croquet course (field?...court...?) And of course we spent time on the beach and at the pool soaking up the sun. We snorkeled- which I don't have pictures of yet because they have to be developed old school. Other island activities we partook in: frisbee golf, mini golf, and tennis. 

 

Edward Jones provided a few dinners for us- one of which was a Luau. Unfortunately rain kept it from being outside, but we still got to see the hula dancers and the flame guy. 

 Pretty much we had an amazing time and are having a hard time being back in the Iowa snow right now. We are thankful for how God has blessed us through Mike's work.

I don't know how else to end this post. So. Good-bye.

 

 

Almost

“Almost. It’s a sad word in any man’s dictionary. Almost. It runs herd with nearly, next time, if only, and just about. It’s a word that smacks of missed opportunities, aborted efforts, and fumbled chances. It’s honorable mention, right field, on the bench, runner-up, and burnt cookies.” - Max Lucado

It’s 2014 now, and as I ponder what 2013 looked like, I’m wondering if I could make a case for the description above. Sure, God blessed us incredibly and his faithfulness was evident every day of the past year. And sure, we had many adventures and good conversations. But how did I really live my life?

Was 2013 a series of almosts? How many times did God nudge me in this direction or that and I just didn’t quite get there? How many days did I wake up and think- “Eh, I think I’ll just sit today out. I’ve done enough this week. I just want to curl up and forget about the world.” How many times did I shrug and say, “Maybe next time.”

I mean, I’ve burnt my fair share of cookies. I’ve won many second places. And I’ve warmed the bench a few times. Almost is certainly not a foreign word in my dictionary. But why am I okay with that? I don’t want my life to be one that could consistently be described with ‘almost.’ I want to live a full life- a life where I can say: I capitalized on that opportunity. I obeyed completely. I stopped rationalizing. I got off the bench, even when I didn’t have a fan section.

Max Lucado goes on to say, “[Jesus] never had room for almost in his vocabulary. You are either with him or against him. With Jesus nearly has to become certainly. Sometimes has to become always. If only has to become regardless. And next time has to become this time.”

I think our culture glorifies on-the-fence lifestyles. Living for ourselves, living not to offend. It’s comfortable. But comfort is complacency. Colorless. The fence is a fantasy. It doesn’t exist. It’s a deception of comfort and we fall for it all the time. It sounds good on paper, but what kind of life is that. It’s a life of almosts. Almost having an opinion. Almost living beyond ourselves. Almost having confidence. Almost making a difference.

Jesus calls us to forget the fence. There is no fence. He says we are either with him or against him. We can’t be on the fence. It’s not there. There is no almost. It’s not an option.

That is how I want 2014 and every year after that to look like for me. I don’t want to look back and think ‘Almost.’ I want to stop saying ‘If only’ and ‘Next time.’ I want others to look at how I live and wonder why there is no fence. Then they’ll know that we can’t get rid of the almost-lifestyle until we embrace a lifestyle with Christ.

I like VOTA’s song ‘Honestly’-
If you don't see the real me you won't see what mercy's done
If you don't see my weakness you won't see what love has won
If you don't see the distance from the darkness to the sun
You won't see, honestly

Abandoning ‘almost’ starts with honesty. Honesty about ourselves. Then we can open our eyes and see. See that the fence is gone and Jesus is beckoning. Toward or away. Those are the only options.

“Almost may count in horseshoes and hand grenades, but with the Master, it is just as good as a never.”