Happy Wednesday, church family!

Let’s talk about an uncomfortable situation during Christmas time. The doorbell rings, and a friend is there, with a beautifully wrapped gift for you. Wait a minute, that person wasn’t on your gift list. You’ve never exchanged gifts with them before! Your heart rate increases, and a lovely candy cane red color begins to seep up your neck towards your face, while a single drop of sweat appears from nowhere and trickles down your back. What now? Lie, and say you haven’t finished shopping yet? Run to the closet and find the most neutral unwrapped gift to throw in a bag? (I’ve done this). What the heck do you do when someone blesses you and you have nothing to give in return? Well, a polite “thank you” is probably in order. Past that, well, that’s something I’m working on. 

Grace feels uncomfortable when we think we have to earn love.

Andy’s words from Sunday’s sermon stuck with me. He talked about Ruth being blessed by Boaz when he allowed her to glean from his fields, and invited her to eat with him at his table. There was no way that Ruth could repay this blessing. I would have crumpled up at this act of kindness! I love doing things for people, for blessing and helping others, for being Boaz. But man, do I struggle allowing someone else to bless me! I feel like I immediately have to do something in return, to be even? To not be in someone’s debt? Ew. I don’t feel like friends I do things for are in my debt, why do I feel that way when I’m on the receiving end? 

Friends, God loves to bless us. Often, he does it through other people. When I’m on the receiving end of a blessing, my gut reaction is that uncomfortable feeling, because I’m not accepting it, I’m trying to earn that love. But God’s grace is mercy, love, blessings, all without having earned or deserved it. I talk about wanting to be Jesus for the people around me, but for some reason, I’m protesting letting them be Jesus to me. What if I shifted the way that I was thinking, and not look at a blessing from other people as a “shoot how do I repay this”, but as a blessing from God; something that is based on grace, and there is literally no way to or *need to* repay it. I get to accept it, be grateful, and when I can, turn around, and bless someone else. 

Jesus, thank You for the people who show me Your love by blessing me, even when it makes me uncomfortable. I reject the lie that I have to somehow earn blessings from others and You, and embrace the truth that grace and love are given, not earned. I choose to accept blessings with a humble heart, be grateful, and in turn, bless others as I can. Bless and seal these good things, in Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed,

Lisa

Happy Wednesday, church family!

At some point in elementary school, I decided I didn’t like my name. I didn’t want to go by Lisa anymore, so I asked my parents to start using my middle name, Nicole. Nikki sounded even cooler, so that became my name for a (very) short period of time. My parents were supportive of my wishes, and solely called me Nikki. The problem was, I didn’t respond. I was so used to the sound of “Lisa”, that “Nikki” didn’t even get a flinch from me. I don’t think it was too long before I begrudgingly went back to boring old Lisa. 

Unlike Naomi in the book of Ruth renaming herself Mara/bitter, I just liked the name better. But Andy’s question in his sermon asking what we have renamed ourselves got me thinking. What lies have I believed about myself that have made me turn away from what Jesus calls me? My mind was blank at first, then I realized that to figure out what my struggles were, I had to think about the things that took my eyes off Jesus. When my eyes are ON Jesus, I hear/see/focus on all the things that He’s showing me, the truth of who I am. But when I get all twisted up in knots, doubting my gifts, my purpose, or trying to control the situation; that’s when I slip into the renaming. 

I also realized that what is easy for me to embrace in one aspect of my life can be difficult in others. Lisa the photographer is incredibly confident in ability and execution. However, that confidence doesn’t always transfer to other areas of my life. I can even find myself absolutely confident I can do something, say, at church, then when the time comes to actually do it, feelings of negative anticipation, doubt, and insufficiency kick in, threatening to overshadow my purpose. I’m realizing that my stage of life also affects who I believe I am.  I’m more confident in who Jesus says I am in some areas, more than I was in my 20s. Yet when it comes to matters and perspectives of my body that isn’t what it was 20 years ago, I find myself less confident. 

I am a wife, a mother, healer, friend, shepherd, supporter, warrior, beautiful, quirky, all the things God has melded together to make Lisa. And no, it was not easy to write all those things out in a definitive declaration. But saying it out loud gives less power to the mental side quests that can pull me away from those truths.   

Jesus, I am who You say I am. I am not the names I’ve been called, the experiences I’ve been through, the things in my life where I’ve failed. I choose to keep my eyes focused on You, and embrace what You call me. I’m a child of God, yes I am. Thank You for reminding me of that. Bless and seal these good things, in Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed,

Lisa, the strong, confident woman formerly and briefly known as Nikki

Happy Wednesday, church family!

My husband Dave is not a hypochondriac or pessimistic, but if there’s something slightly off with his body, panic ensues. That little bump on his arm? It’s probably a cancerous, gangrenous tumor that will result in amputation. Headache= Aneurysm. I, on the other hand, tend to be the opposite, to a fault. I may fret and worry about the process of healing something (read: surgery or needles), but the actual issue at hand? Megh, whatever, it’ll be fine. Then 2 weeks ago, I had a root canal for the first time, and the healing process kind of broke me. 

My jaw was in a lot of pain-  I couldn’t open my mouth properly to take a bite of a sandwich. It even hurt to smile. Then I made the cardinal mistake, and consulted Dr. Google. I was in mental panic mode. One night I couldn’t sleep- my mind was racing about having a functioning jaw. Then I thought, perhaps I should pray about the pain, more than a “God please heal me”. What a novel idea! I spent some time sharing with God about how freaked out I was, and then I actually put my hand on my jaw and prayed for it. My mind and body relaxed, and I was finally able to sleep. The next day, I woke up, hoping that everything had been healed overnight, and had to calm myself down when it wasn’t. So, I popped a few ibuprofen, and busied myself with activities of the day. My rational brain told me that things would be fine at some point. My irrational thoughts told me once again that I would never again be able to eat a hamburger properly. Each day that the pain didn’t change, the freak out moments would come. But somehow, once I reminded myself that I had invited Jesus in, I was able to bring myself down a little quicker. One morning I even heard Him say, “Just give it a few more days”. 

I was slightly distracted from the dull ache, listening to Kurt’s sermon, until he said the phrase “faith over control”. I realized that I had been allowing fear and pain, and the desire to control the two, to overcome my faith. I had been wallowing in “what if”, instead of letting Jesus carry the weight of worry for me. 

Friends, I don’t know about you, but I honestly don’t always think about inviting Jesus into the little things of my life. I mean, it seems more “important” to ask Him to come into big struggles, like decisions, or dealing with people. A hurting jaw after a dental procedure seems so mundane, and, I don’t know, small? Yet, there I was, controlled by fear and pain. I was still trying to control something, I was still letting the desire to do things myself (ie, worry) squish out my faith. Yet once I invited Jesus into that moment, and shared with Him not only the pain, but the fear, a funny thing happened: I calmed down. (let’s be honest, not completely, but still an improvement!). And you know what? A few more days passed, and yesterday, I woke up with almost no jaw pain, just like He said. 

Jesus, thank You for the reminder that no matter how big or small something is, that You want to hear ALL the things, and walk alongside me through it, carrying it so I don’t have to. I choose to come to You with not only the events in my life, but the emotions that stem from them. Thank You that once again, I can comfortably eat a hamburger! Bless and seal these good things in Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed,
Lisa

Happy Wednesday, church family!

As a counseling student in grad school, I was trained not only in the art of helping others process and navigate life's challenges, but also in how to do so in a healthy, sustainable way. We were taught that maintaining our own mental and emotional well-being is essential to helping others on a daily basis. So, taadaa!!! I’m a trained, completely well-adjusted, always put together counselor! (I really hope you’re able to read the sarcasm in my words.)

Shortly after my mom passed away, I laid in bed one night, thinking I needed to make sure to process everything that had happened to the full extent, so nothing would be suppressed or repressed. There were several traumatic events that led up to the day she actually passed away. I wanted to ensure that I was, once again, totally put together and healed. So, I pulled out my counselors’ toolbox and began working through things. Hmm, perhaps I should have added “perfectionist” and “likes to be in control” to my description above. 

After listening to Matt’s sermon on Sunday, and hearing his words about allowing yourself to feel the feelings, then taking them to God, I thought, well I’m dang darn good at feeling all the feelings. I’ve been trained to do so! But then I realized that even though I allow myself to feel all the things, I too often leave out the most important thing: working through the grief with God, not just by myself. Whoops.

It’s not that I consciously reject God in my mourning, or refuse to share with Him. While grieving my mom, I just did it myself, I didn’t even think about it. (Not that that’s better, *grimace*).  Technically I got through it, but I really wonder what it would have been like if I’d invited Jesus in at every moment. What would it have been like if I’d have been aware of just how close He was to me during those painful moments, just waiting for me to turn to Him, instead of choosing to do it alone. I may be a trained counselor, but He is THE Wonderful Counselor. Friends, if you’ve ever lost someone close to you, you know the grieving is never fully over, it just changes. So here’s the good news: Jesus is still there in the process of grieving my mom, He’s still available for me to come to in the gut punching moments that come out of nowhere. Like Matt’s dream, he’s been curled up next to me through it all. 

Jesus, I’m so grateful that it’s never too late to invite You in. I’m sorry that I’ve left You out of the moments that You could have given me beautiful comfort and guidance. I can’t do it alone, I’ve tried, and I’m tired. Thank You, that You haven’t left me, and You are there to hold me and comfort me. I choose to include You, and invite You in. Bless and seal these good things in Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed, 

Lisa