Blaze of Glory

Autumn. It is by far my most favorite season of the year. The highly anticipated festival of colors is finally on display. A tall, sprawling maple with candy-apple red colored leaves overshadows our driveway and garage. The leaves are like broken pieces of stain glass as they flutter to the ground, creating moving patterns of red and burnt orange on the front of our house. The drive through town is so beautiful and pleasant. Fall themed decorations flood the quaint little storefront windows. A rainbow of warm colored leaves blows across the street, swirling around the lamp posts. A huge tree with blazing topaz leaves hovers over a picnic table, creating a dappled golden glaze on the top of the table and surrounding sidewalk. When a cool wind blows through, it appears as if handfuls of fire are cascading to the ground, while the leaves on the ground stir and swirl up to meet the leaves ablaze midair. The crunching of the leaves under my feet remind me of my childhood when my three younger brothers and I would wrestle in the piles of leaves around our house. My own boys had fun playing in the leaves the other day... embracing the changing of the seasons, one armful at a time.

To me, leaves have the most beautifully dramatic death. They are crisp and green throughout the summer, fresh in scent and full of life. When it comes time for them to die, however, they turn a most magnificent color - it is like a final adieu (perhaps to their own version of the von Trapp's "So Long, Farewell"). They announce to the world - "It is time for me to die." And then they float and fall with a gentle grace, landing in a pile of spectacular color splashed across the ground.

It is this time of year that we grab our cameras and take our family pictures that will be plastered on our Christmas cards. You just can't beat the beauty of this season, that happens the same time, every year. I savor the fiery warmth from the trees and cling to it... knowing that a blanket of white is soon to come.

And just like nature's steady seasons, coming and going in a consistent and predictable pattern... I have seasons of my own. I have my seasons where I am growing, learning new things, thriving in opportunity... my springs. Then there are my seasons where I am reaping a harvest of abundant blessings, blooming friendships, successful moments where life seems bright and full of beauty... my summers.

And then, there are my seasons where I begin to feel the tug. God wants me to change. Something needs to happen in order for me to draw close to Him again. He reminds me directly in Luke 9:23, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." The Greek word for deny in this case is aparneomai, which means "to affirm that one has no connection with a person." As I picture the beautiful crimson and gold leaves pulling away - disconnecting themselves from the trees this time of year and gracefully floating to the ground, I realize that fall is the season in my own life that I dread. It is not natural for a human being to deny themselves. When I sense God calling me to make a change in my life - whether it is walking away from a relationship, changing my attitude towards someone, or the ultimate biggie - laying down an idol, some sort of internal balance is thrown off kilter and whether I like it or not, I am thrust into an intense season of "fall" where I am clinging to the things I'd rather not deny myself from.

But, lucky for me (and you) we serve a God whose mercies are new every morning. Denying ourselves isn't a one time only deal. He instructs us to deny ourselves and take up our crosses DAILY. I find this so comforting. Every day I have a chance to turn to him first, and deny myself. Every day can be a step towards Him, allowing the Refiner to refine me. And when I finally choose to submit to Him, winter comes.

          "Come now, let us settle the matter," says the Lord. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool." ~ Isaiah 1:18

And just like that - my sin, idols and everything else that I needlessly cling to - flutter like crimson stained leaves to the ground. Pure, white snow from the heavens falls upon me, cleansing and washing me... my winters. A crystalline blanket covers the ground and the bare trees, encapsulating everything it touches - nothing can escape its touch. And with this cleansing love comes a time of pruning. Dead branches that no longer bear fruit are broken off of the tree, allowing the other branches to grow taller and stronger... when spring comes.

Whenever I think of the cycle of the seasons, I always picture spring as the kick off. Something is born, it grows, it fades, it dies. Spring, summer, fall, winter. I have come to realize that this just can't be possible. In order for ANY life to exist - death must come first. Jesus' blood flowing down the rugged, wooden cross will forever be remembered as we gaze upon our fiery red oak trees in the fall. His blood cleanses us - over and over and over again. As winter comes and settles in around us like a sparkling blanket of diamonds, we are made new. Safe in the perfect love of our Heavenly Father, we are given a second, a third, a fiftieth, a five hundredth chance to start over again. And as He prepares our hearts for His good and perfect will to be lived out through us, He waters us with melting snow, blows a cool spring wind, and allows us to bud. Growing and stretching towards Him, we continue to grow and thrive, blooming and bearing fruit, giving praise to His name. Until another season comes along where He requires a change within us... and His redeeming love is ever present again.

          They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. ~ Isaiah 61:3

What a beautiful picture of God's love for us, displayed season after season, year after year. His blood shed for us, covering our branches, flowing to the ground. Cleansed from our roots to the tips of our branches by His forgiveness and love. Encouraged with warm sun to help us grow. Blessed with abundant life. We are oaks of righteousness, displaying the Lord's glory and splendor, with each passing season.

 

Broken, Fragrant and Beautiful

It is a sight to behold when 3,500 mothers of preschoolers from around the globe gather in one room. Feather boas draped around necks, tall leather boots adorning the lightest feet, contagious boisterous laughter echoing off the walls, hugs galore, happy tears, chatty mouths with grins stretching ear to ear. Why? Freedom. Freedom from wiping snotty noses. Freedom from eating cold meals at odd times of the day. Freedom from interruptions. Freedom to speak in complete sentences. Freedom to pursue intimacy with friends. Freedom to focus, or refocus rather, on the One who often is neglected as a result of our daily demands of motherhood. Freedom to be a woman, in all of her essence, as she was created to be.

I had the privilege and blessing of being able to attend a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) convention this past weekend in Kansas City, Missouri. It is always so good for my soul to be able to step away from my hectic life and have an opportunity to miss my family. And I did miss my men - all three of them - in the worst way. Just knowing that I am almost 500 miles away from my most precious loves makes my heart ache. But I needed this four day moment to refresh my perspective on mothering, engage in sessions meant to equip me as a ministry leader, and most importantly, reconnect with my God who hadn't been receiving much attention from me lately.

Being a mom is hard. Motherhood is physically and emotionally exhausting. It requires a full time commitment to placing the needs of my children above my own. I fight - hard - for my children's well being and security in all situations. I stay up all night with my sick children, comforting them, singing lullabies to calm their weary souls. But all those things I gladly do, with little degree of difficulty. It is in my blood. I am a mother - a warrior woman who will happily jump on top of a grenade if it means shielding my precious children from a blast. Those choices are not hard to make. At all.

What makes motherhood so hard are the lies I tell myself. I am not good enough. My children will grow up hating me because I screamed at them for ripping pages out of their bedtime stories. When I give my kids pop tarts I am doing them an injustice and they will most likely develop a rare form of cancer and it will be all my fault. I am too overprotective. I am not protective enough. Despite my professional grade camera, and the fact that I take a zillion pictures of my beautiful children every day, I have never paid for professional pictures to be taken of my kids and that is just not fair to them. I don't entertain my kids every minute of the day and if I stay at home with them this shouldn't be a problem. Because I stay at home my four year old should already be able to read and write, tie his shoes, ride a bike... I just don't do enough. These lies have been added to my very being, like sandbags tied around my waist, weighing me down, turning every moment - every decision I make as a mother - into a resonating question in my mind - "Is what I am doing good enough?"

As I sat in my chair this weekend, listening to amazing Godly women pour out their hearts in pure unadulterated honesty and vulnerability, I began to witness a beautiful, colorful thread weaving its way through the stories of these women. Real women. World renown Christian and inspirational speakers with published books, highly successful Bible studies, blogs, and thriving BLESSED ministries. Sharing stories of their brokenness. Weaknesses. Mistakes. Shortcomings. And it hit me - THIS is what unites us women together - our brokenness. Our weaknesses. Our mistakes. Our shortcomings. When the stone walls that protect our pulsing, vulnerable hearts come crashing down and we are left exposed like Achilles' heel - this is when our true essence is able to emerge.

         essence (n) - 1. fundamental nature or quality. 2. a substance distilled or extracted from another substance and having the special qualities of the original substance. 3. PERFUME.

This word... essence... has been on my mind lately. I am currently leading a Bible study with my fellow MOPS moms, and the question we have been asking throughout this study is "Do I have beauty to unveil? If I do, how do I unveil it?" How do we strip off the sandbags that weigh us down, the added baggage that pollutes our fundamental nature - our very essence? This past weekend I believe I got a glimpse of the answer. Mark 14:1-9 and John 12:1-8 reveal Mary's heart, a woman who poured an entire bottle of expensive perfume (worth a year's wages) over the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. First of all, Mary did this publicly, and was criticized for it. She didn't care. She pushed any insecurities she may have had aside, knelt before her King and poured perfume over his feet. But I don't believe it was just perfume that she gifted Jesus with - it was her very essence - her vulnerability, her devotion to her purpose, her pure love for her King, that she poured over him.

I love how God has the ability to speak through Scripture that I have read so many times, and breath new life in it over and over again. In thinking about my essence - which by definition could also be my "perfume," I recalled a verse in Psalm that I used to sing back in college worship services. Psalm 141:2 (KJV) says, "Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense; and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." The Hebrew word for incense in this verse is qetoreth, which can also be translated in the Bible as perfume.

I need to interject here that I LOVE pulling out my Strong's Concordance and uncovering the deeper meanings of the words used in our common Biblical translations. I have Beth Moore to thank for this (who, by the way I had the IMMENSE pleasure of meeting at this conference... if I lived in the 60's the Beatles would have had nothing on her.)

So we have this image of a wonderfully fragrant perfume being poured over Jesus. Could this be the ultimate picture of what it looks like to unveil our beauty - to reveal our very essence? May my prayers be sweet smelling incense... may my heart pay no attention to the criticism that resounds around me AND in me of myself... may I willingly and generously pour out my own fragrant perfume that is uniquely found in my soul alone over the King that longs to be covered with it.

I have spoken with so many women who long for transparency in their relationships. We CRAVE intimacy with other women. We have been made in the image of Christ, and this desire for authentic, transparent relationships stems from that likeness we share with him. Revealing our true selves - broken and choosing to recognize the beauty in that brokenness - will not only help us engage in deeper, meaningful relationships with other women, but also draw us into Jesus' arms, who is so jealous FOR us... how can we not feel beautiful in His presence?

My mind has been reeling ever since I got home from Kansas City... questions rolling through my mind of how I can improve my ministry, what I can write about that can even somewhat capture my experience... so much that I forgot to bring my 3 year old to preschool this morning. I think on most mornings I would have beaten myself up over this. But this morning, as we finished a late breakfast while all three of us got dressed - in less than 3 minutes - to get Gabe to school an hour late, I was thankful for the relief of the pressure to be a perfect mother. It's in my imperfection that my children will learn how to trust in their God. It's through my mistakes that my children will learn how forgiving their Heavenly Father is. They will learn that it is ok to be imperfect, broken and have moments of weakness because there is a God who can refine, fix and make strong absolutely EVERYTHING.

Being a mother is hard work. But being a mother who finds freedom in surrendering her heart to her King makes being a mother a whole lot easier.