Trust and Obey

Let's say there's a builder, let's call him Chet.

And let's say Chet gets to choose what house he gets to build. Let's say he gets to choose the material to build the house out of.
There's a strong material, that won't deteriorate over time or bad weather, it won't be destroyed by rain or wind, it won't be eaten away by animals or insects. However, it takes time to build this house. It's hard work because every detail of the construction must be precise. It's time consuming, and difficult and rather hard to see any immediate benefit to this construction.

Or he could choose a different material. It's easier to work with and faster to build. It seems to hold up well enough, and overall, it looks better than the stronger material.
So our builder picks the latter material. It cuts cost and saves time. "It's easier", he reasons, "it makes sense."

What Chet doesn't know is that this material rots. Slowly, over time, every slight change in the weather damages this material. It starts in a tiny space you never see and slowly eats away until the whole the structure has been permeated.

And then what? This house collapses.

This is how it is when we build our lives.
We can build with OBEDIENCE, or we can build with DISOBEDIENCE.

Let me tell you, there will always be a reason to choose disobedience. And it will sound quite noble. Logical. "It makes sense", you might reason.

Obedience might not always make sense.
Obedience will ask you to put down your pride (and oh, please, just do it), and all the reasons that you know best.
Obedience is often tethered to something in our future that we can't even imagine yet. If you can obey now, you can obey then. Even when we don't have the slightest idea about 'then' yet. Because remember- our God is the one who wrote every day of our lives before even one of them came to be*. Do you really think he can't write a story you can't fathom? Do you really think he doesn't know better than you?
Obedience is tethered to trust. Almost everything in our lives can be broken down to ONE very simple question: Do you TRUST him?
Our immediate, knee-jerk response is "Yes, of course I trust him!" But do you really? Do you trust him when you don't understand, can't and never will? Do you trust that the valley is exactly where his path led you, because he's waiting for you there? Do you trust that he's there in the brokenness? Do you trust that he's big enough to pick up every piece and make something even more beautiful than what you had put together? Do you trust him when everything is taken from you? Do you trust him enough to let go of every detail your fists are clenched around because you're the only one who can protect them? Do you trust him through every tear? Every gut-wrenching, heart-breaking pain? Do you trust him?

The truth is, your house won't stand when it's built on disobedience. It may hold for a long time. It may look like the real thing. But someday, something will hit that house, and in the blink of an eye, it will be dust. Everything you built will be gone. I could argue that it probably was never very stable, but often it's too hard for us to admit that when we're living in it.

Take a moment and read Deuteronomy 28, particularly verses 15-68. You might notice the heading titled "Curses for Disobedience." Now there might be a part of you that's starting to get mad, or a little indignant. Who do I think I am coming to you and talking about curses?
But for one: that's the Bible- not me. And if it helps you, you can look at it in today's vernacular. You can call it "Consequences of Disobedience." Either way you look at it, I've found you can't escape it. These are the results of willful disobedience.

Obedience is harder, no doubt about it. Not overall, but in the moment, it's harder. But the results, the consequences of obedience are everything. It will give life to all you do. You don't have to believe me, but I've lived it.

The choice is totally up to you. And just so you know (cause there's a little voice that will lie to you), it's never too late to rebuild your house.
Choose wisely today the house you will build.


*Psalm 139:16

The Fixer

I'm a problem solver. Always have been. I love it. And I've discovered I'm good at it. I'm objective and therefore look to find the solution that's best for all.
I think it's a strength for me. But I've learned it's also a weakness. It's not meant to be ungoverned or without self-control. It's gotten me in trouble over the years because I want to jump in and solve problems and fix things that other people don't want fixed.

Sometimes my wanting to fix things takes away the process that someone else needs. Who am I to circumvent their process? It's hard to understand because if I can make it better, why can't I make it better? Doesn't it make sense to make things better? Doesn't it make sense to fix things? Aren't I not doing my job by not fixing all the things?

But today, as I stood in my bathroom doing my hair, the Holy Spirit dropped a little bit of a truth bomb on me:
You're not in the tough situation to fix it. You're in the tough situation to be sanctified by it.

Just. Wow. I can't tell you how many circumstances I can look back on that this was true. I ran around making myself crazy trying to fix it, when the Lord was letting it sit because I needed the sanctification that situation would bring.

How often do we do this? We make ourselves miserable trying to immediately fix everything, pleading with the Lord, our boss, our leaders, anyone who will listen to try and get us out of it, when this is the exact right process to sanctify us.

It's hard to understand. It doesn't make sense to us. It seems unfair. But the Lord is really working everything out for our good, if we'll just believe him.

We need to stop trying to immediately fix everything. We need to stop sparing ourselves the frustration. We need to stop avoiding the pain. The frustration will be there, regardless of our response. I believe we prolong the difficult season by trying to prematurely fix things that are meant to teach us.
We're often very busy trying to deal with the other person who is the "real problem" instead of looking ourselves and asking the Holy Spirit to teach US.

Let's take a moment and consider what this sanctification could actually look like in action.
It could mean keeping your mouth shut. When you want to complain, and talk, and be bitter, your choice will be to keep your mouth shut instead.
It could mean patience. Endless patience.
It could mean being still.
It could mean listening.
It could mean learning.
It could mean you don't know everything. Actually, it definitely means that.

But most of all, it's keeping your mouth shut. You'll want to run around and complain. You'll want to go to your friends and complain. You'll want to go to your boss and complain. You'll want to go to anyone who will listen and complain and hope that they'll fix it for you. But the truth is, it's you. You need to be silent. To be still. You'll have to stop blaming other people for the situation. Sure, it might be their fault. They might be causing the problems. But if the Lord hasn't removed them, it's for a reason. Do you truly believe that the Lord is in control? How far does that belief go? It'll be tested in these seasons.
I've found that most often it's because the Lord is teaching me. And how much will I miss when I'm constantly looking for a way out, or looking at someone else and blaming them when He is trying to address me?

I get it. It can seem unfair. But who ever said this faith walk would be fair? Answer: no one. It's not fair. The Lord will ask things of you that it may seem like he's not asking of anyone else. So what? That's not your business. We're all in a process, whether it looks like it from the outside or not.

And don’t worry, there is a time and a place to be the fixer, the problem-solver. But we need to first ask the Holy Spirit to show us when and where.

All I know is that I'm going to learn to stop rushing to fix everything. I'm going to learn to stop. To be still. To ask the Holy Spirit what I need to learn. It takes submission. It takes humility. Those are two uncommon things now. But they're the doorway to sanctification. Don't be confused by the packaging; this is the thing you've longed for. It's time to step in.

Choices

I’ve taken to quiet drives recently. When it’s just me and Lennox in the car, I often just enjoy the silence (as long as he hasn’t decided to lose his mind) and take time to pray, or just consider things. 

The Lord reminded me of something last night on my drive home. I’ve been thinking a lot about brokenness recently, you see. Not just because of our own lives, but because I’ve seen so many close friends walk through brokenness in the last year and a half. 

I felt like the Lord showed me that brokenness does one of two things. It drives us in, or it drives us away. 

The reality is that either way, it’s our choice. We make the choice to draw close, or run away. 

Often, running away seems like the better choice. And we can make a compelling argument for why that is. We’re very good justifiers, I’ve found. 

I think there’s a very simple reason we want to run away. We want to run away because we’re afraid to be vulnerable before the Lord. Not because we are naive enough to think He doesn’t know how we feel, but because we feel like we’ve been disappointed or let down, and if we draw close, it’ll happen again. That might be too real, but there it is. I can say it, because I’ve had to face that reality in my own mind. I want to be a little mad. I want to ask the Lord a lot of questions. And ultimately, the really ugly, fleshy part of me doesn’t want to draw close, because I’m afraid of more disappointment. 

And then the Holy Spirit reminded me of this: the enemy wants to use my brokenness for isolation; the Lord wants to use it for intimacy. 

Isolation is quick to show it's face. It seems like the place of safety and comfort we need. But isolation is far-reaching. It will never stay in the box you put it in. It creeps into every area of your life. It will lead you to a place where you don't run to the Lord, and then it will convince you that you don't need other people, that they can't understand and won't try. Let's just make it plain: that is a LIE.
We aren't meant to do life alone. Isolation will kill your perspective about other people; it will tell you things are true that are not, and you won't be able to see the difference because the lie will sound a lot like the truth.

I can give into the isolation. Or I can choose intimacy. I can draw close, even though I feel disappointed. Even though I feel like I’m waiting for God to show up in a big way, and it doesn’t seem like He does. I can still choose to be close. 

Psalm 34:18 says that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted. He knows our brokenness. And He is waiting for us to draw close. He rescues those whose spirits are crushed. Don’t get me wrong, He might not change a thing about your circumstance. But He’ll change you. He’ll change me. Intimacy changes everything. It sustains. It refreshes. It comforts. It somehow reaches into every hurt place and heals. We need the intimacy because when the broken season is over, we’ll be different people because of it. 

Isolation only distorts. It can’t heal, it can’t help, it only hurts. It’s a lie we can’t afford to believe because we’re meant to be close. We’re meant to be close to Him and close to each other. 

And close means vulnerable. I know, it’s scary. It’s hard to really let go of all the parts of yourself you’re trying to protect. But you can’t protect them. Not really. Another lie we’re too quick to believe. 

One final thought: vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s strength. 

So here’s the bottom line: don’t give in. Don’t run toward isolation. Run towards intimacy. 

Run towards vulnerability. Run towards humility. Run to Him. 

Proverbs 18:10 

The name of the Lord is a strong tower;

the righteous run to it and are safe.