Mar 22 2020
Leave a comment
Grace in the Time of Coronavirus, Patience, Reflections

Grace in the Time of Coronavirus: Little Things

Being at home with loads of time on my hands has led to a decent amount of anxiety. I am a person who likes routine but more importantly likes the sense of accomplishment, getting things done that are measurable and noticed. If you know anything about the Enneagram(click to find out more), I am a 2 with a 3 wing. I’m loving referred to as the Helper, the 3 wing means I like to be noticed for it (ok, so that’s not 100% accurate but it’s my interpretation of how my wing manifest itself). Before you read any further, please know this is NOT a self-pity post. I felt what you were thinking, trust me. I thought it too as I started thinking about this post. I share all that information to help set the context so you can see the depths of my heart and better understand the message.

For some unknown reason today, I thought about the song Little Things by Bush. It’s an alt-rock song which I am sure none of you have heard. No, I’m not asking you to listen to it. But I do want to share some lyrics from it that got me thinking:

The bigger you give bigger you get
We’re boss at denial
But best at forget
Cupboard is empty we really need food
Summer is winter and you always knew
Going up when coming down
Scratch away, away, away, away
It’s the little things that kill
Tearing at my brains again
Oh the little things that kill
That little thing that kill
Little Things, by Bush
I fully acknowledge my use of this song is different than the one Gavin Rossdale intended in writing and performing this song. The lyrics stick with me regardless, “It’s the little things that kill, tearing at my brain again, oh the little things that kill.” I can’t escape the truth of those lines, especially right now. Let me explain.

I get stuck on little things. Little things frustrate me. Little things bring me joy. Little things eat away at me deep into the night. Little things give me immense satisfaction. Little things bring me intense joy. Little things, right now, are all I have.

In this time of quarantine, extended social distance, or whatever way you refer to it, I am constantly enjoying and fighting the little things. When you are cooped up with your kids (and I love them dearly) everyday, every hour you start to fixate on the little things. The little fact that you can’t do anything that you need to do because one of them always need help with digital learning. The little thing that one of them said that irked you to no end. The little thing that no one will help with taking the dog out to go potty. The little thing that you have to tell them multiple times to put their plate up when they are finished eating. By noon, I find myself having to take deep breaths and reminding myself, Child Services will intervene for child abuse even during quarantine (my son reminds me of this daily, even outside of quarantine).

Then even once they go to bed, I have the little things I say to myself that aren’t true. “What kind of parent are you anyway! Really that’s the way you treat your kids.” The little thoughts of what I didn’t get done or the way I spent my time. “Think of what you could have finished if you hadn’t read the News app 14 times today.” “Ha! Are you even an adult, how long did you play that game today?”

All the little things… the little things that kill.at denial. I’ll social distance myself from those thoughts today. Yes, I will.

Best at forget. I forget the promises I made to myself yesterday, that I would do better today.

The cupboard is empty we really need food. I don’t return to the source enough. My substance and sustenance is the Lord and His Word. 5 minutes a day, will not sustain against the all the little things that kill.

Summer is winter and you always knew. We are in a break from the hustle and bustle, but I am no more closer to rest because I don’t see it out or plan for it. I fill my time with the little things, the little things that kill.

I think one of the bigger things we can offer ourselves and other during this time of Coronavirus is grace. If you are like me, it’s going to take little doses to myself as well as little doses to those I am around right now… all of the time.

The little things add up. They can become a force to be reckoned with and should be. My encouragement to myself and any of you who chose to read this is simply this… Offer a little more grace.. Think more a little more graciously. Be a little more gracious and grateful. Don’t tackle this experience as a whole just yet, it’s far from over, wonder at the little moments you get each day to seek a Holy God and interact with because an immense love He has for you. Its so big you may need to think on it in little bits. Share with him the little things, the little things that bother you and are driving you nuts. Thank Him for the little things that are getting you through and giving you life right now.

Don’t let the little things get you. Use the little things to grow and develop. Let the little things help you offer life and meaning to yourself and others. Be a little more graceful. Remember, it’s just a little thing.

May 11 2016
Leave a comment
3 Hard Words

Three Hard Words: I Am Sorry

3HardWords_sorry

Saying “I am sorry” is like pulling baby teeth. You are fully aware you need to say it, but the temporary pain and awkwardness of saying it are almost unbearable at least in your mind. But we all know and acknowledge, you need to pull those little teeth to make room for growth. Yes, it will hurt and could down right get painful depending on the depth of the root, but it needs to go. The bleeding will be temporary and after a little bit of time there will be signs of growth and there are few things more encouraging than signs of growth. Am I right?

But man oh man! Getting those three little words out can be quite an ordeal. And to whom do these words seem to be the hardest to confess to: ourselves.

Let’s Make it Personal

The individual you most likely need to tell you are sorry is yourself, because that’s the individual you are most often the roughest on (at least internally). I know I personally beat myself up on the regular. Screw up something while cooking, “You are a blubbering idiot. Seriously, that’s best you can do.” Get more upset with the kids than is really necessary, “What was that all about?! Over do it much?” Say something dumb to my wife, “Way to go champ! Really knocked that one out of the park.” Each statement I make to myself is chock-full of sarcasm (just as an FYI, sarcasm in greek means, tearing of flesh. Yes, you are welcome, see connecting it back to pulling teeth.)

My small voice has the ability and tendency to be louder than even my audible voice and I can be very boisterous. Surprisingly, not surprisingly, it never has to raise its voice though. It gets my attention with merely a whisper. The words I say to myself and the things I convince myself of are horrific, heart breaking, mind-bending, soul-crushing lies, lined thinly with an element or two of truth, just enough to make them believable.

I imagine the reason they lies take root is because they are stuck on repeat. There is no shuffle (like on your iPod) when it comes to the lies you tell yourself. They are played in a certain order based off of years of little and big circumstances that have occurred in your life. The individual circumstances in of themselves don’t have much impact but when they are filtered together and compounded into a simple non-truth suddenly they are powerful enough to leave craters in you. And that’s where we find ourselves (ok that’s where I find myself) most often, in that self made crater.

Getting Out of the Crater

Prepare to blown away (or out) of your personal crater… Ok, that’s not entirely true, you will have to pull some.. see what I did there. Seriously, tune in here. This particular part is important. First, you have to acknowledge the voice and the non-truth it speaks. You know the one I’m talking about. You hear it all of the time. You don’t have to isolate it, you hear it clearly, probably even now. As an aside, I hear mine whispering softly at this very moment,

“Alan, why are you doing this. What good will come from you writing this post? Your writing, well, how do I put this gently… ok I won’t put it gently, it SUCKS. Just trying to be honest with you and save you the trouble. You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.”

Yes, that is my inner monologue. And here is how I give it the ole Stephanie Tanner line, HOW RUDE!

gallery-1450389097-how-rude-what-ever-happened-to-the-cast-of-full-house-20-years-later-and-still-a-family-gif-237688.gif

After I identify the lie, I have already accomplished a major feat. I have taken something dark and shoved it violently into the light. Things that draw power from the dark, lose it when they enter light. I then, tell others. Yes, life change happens in community. You can accomplish a lot alone but nothing compared to what you can do with the help of others. So, yes, I share my garbage and keep those loving people informed when I take out the trash. I then do the best I can do at telling myself, “I am sorry.” I am sorry I believed something about me that I know wasn’t true. I am sorry I let it have power over me.

Then, I turn to the Father and pray:

I am sorry. I am sorry I lost again. Thank you for the little victory. I am sorry, I didn’t trust you or believe in who You say You are. Thank you for not losing faith in me. I am sorry I lost my way. Thank you for not letting me go. I love you, I am sorry I forgot that. Amen.

He picks me up out of the crater, dusts me off, and lovingly says, I am never sorry that I made you. I am not sorry I love you. I am not sorry that hurt, because that’s where there will be growth. Carry on, my beloved son. Smile, I think I see a tooth coming in.

Tagged , ,
Apr 25 2016
3 Comments
3 Hard Words, Guest Post

3 Hard Words: I Love You (Guest Post: Holly Mackle)

3HardWords_iloveyou.jpg

Let me tell you about my friend, Holly Mackle. Holly is a real-deal blogger (DiggingSuburbia and enCourage). Truthfully, she’s more than that. Holly is a daughter, a wife, a mother, a writer, a suburban gardener, a friend, a sister, and a wanna-be baller who wishes she was a little bit taller. Ok maybe not the last part but she’s awesome and I want to treat any of you who wander onto my blog today to a guest post by her. Her writing is well, how does one say this… better than mine and warrants you take time to not only read it, but digest it. Let it take root in you and grow on you (Holly is a gardener after all).

Planting a Seed:

I also want to help this daring lady promote her new study, Engaging Motherhood: Heart Preparation for a Holy Calling. Here’s a little description:

Let’s face it: it’s not about whether we sleep-train, cloth-diaper, give
formula, or any one of the thousands of other choices in this age of
mommy-analysis.  What matters is the heart behind those decisions and
whether or not that heart is surrendered to Jesus.  It’s about our worst
fear regarding our children coming true and still being able to say, “My
identity is in Christ alone and his completed work.”  
Engaging Motherhood: Heart Preparation for a Holy Calling is a place for
moms of young children to connect and beat back loneliness, to be reminded
of truth when lies scream so loudly, and to be assured that we are enough
because he is enough. It seeks to prepare mamas for the days when sin flares
up, expectations go unmet, relationships are strained, or the line between
the rational and the irrational blurs.
God promises to meet us as we courageously step into the spiritual
significance of our task. He has every answer for our real questions-the
deep ones that challenge at every turn. Be steadied and encouraged by the
experiences of seven mothers who have gone down this road before. Allow your
gaze to be lifted from the stifling how-to’s of raising a child onto
Christ’s sufficiency in meeting your every need along the way.

Engaging Motherhood.jpg

Yeah, it’s awesome, I know. I’m not a mother but this stuff is encouraging.

You can get a copy for yourself, a friend, your mom, your wife, or anyone you think could use a bit of encouragement as a mom or expecting mom: Engaging Motherhood on Amazon or want to buy several copies visit the PCA Bookstore.

Ok, without further distraction from me, feast upon her work.

_________________________________________________________________

I Love You

Mind if I hand you some puzzle pieces?

Here’s the first. UGA, Athens, Georgia, 2005. I am a lovesick grad student who is supposed to be finishing her thesis but can’t see straight because of this boy named David Mackle. I know that I know that I know, and gosh, I hope he does too. He says “I love you,” and I, being me, reply back in only the most awkward of ways:

“Are you sure?”

They flew out before I could catch them.

He said I love you and I said are you sure.

Part two. A frustrating and almost year-long back and forth with the company who makes the gigantic printer for my in-home business ends in a stalemate. They are not going to replace the monstrosity with the new version of the monstrosity. I am upset at the thought of letting the business go, but it’s not because I love the business so terribly. When my sister-friends hammer down with the right questions: it’s ugly. The printer represents me showing David I’m contributing to our family. That I’m earning my keep. I’m a Proverbs 31-kinda-wife. I’m worth it. That he made a good choice by picking me.

And God said ahem. You do the same thing to me, too.

Third piece. I have this dear friend who has been in a crisis of faith the last year or so. She doubts the assurance of her salvation. I look at her love for Jesus and I’m envious. She gnaws on the word, serves the bride like nobody’s business, adores her husband, and is raising her children up in the fear and admonition of the Lord. The Spirit within me testifies she is his chosen child. But I’m not the one who can free her from doubt. I can’t help her believe the obvious. And I’ve viewed her plight as if peering through a window. Compassionate, but detached.

Whoa, slow down

Before I lose track I think it’s time to put some pieces together. Athens, Georgia and are you sure insinuates I know better. It insinuates “You can’t possibly know your own mind better than I know it and there’s no way you could truly love me.” Not you, me. I know better. I know best. Me, me, me, my, doesn’t that apple look delicious.

The printer that’s way more than just a printer is the lesser-known side of a very ugly coin. The familiar side says I will fight and earn your love. I will tap dance my way into your good graces because I am sure you love tap. But the other, more subtle side, says “Thanks for picking me buuuuut…trust me, I’m going to show you that you made a good choice.”

These two pieces help me make sense of the third, and as it turns out I’m not peering in through the assurance window. I’m in the house. Because every time I put on my tap shoes and try to show God what a good choice he made by picking me, I’m elevating myself as the decider. I pat him on the head and say “Atta boy.”

Barf.

How must I break the heart of the One who went to such lengths to save me when my actions ask him if he is sure he made a good choice.

The fourth piece

But there’s really only one piece of real importance here. It’s the last piece, the sweetest one, and it’s the one smoothing all the rough edges of the other three and making the whole picture come together. You see, three little words “I love you” are really three more words “I trust you” which are really the ultimate three words “I believe you.” And when it all boils down, mercifully, I—we—don’t have it. We don’t have the words, ways or means to adequately love God back in return, much less trust him completely, and far less believe him perfectly. It has to be his own power working within us, tearing and gnawing and molding and re-molding our nature to resemble Christ’s—the only person who really loved, trusted, and believed out of his own power. Apart from him, I cannot love him at all, much less enough. Apart from him, I will never trust him enough, much less minute by minute. And apart from him, I will never be able to believe everything he has said about who he is and who I am in relation to him.

He has to move in me to love himself. He has to align situations to show me how to trust him. And then he has to take me to the brink to show me I am his, and this means I do believe. By his power, I do believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

By grace alone, David and I will celebrate ten years this summer. They have been the most fun years of my life, and there isn’t a person on this planet I would have preferred to spend them with. Our marriage isn’t perfect, but here’s one thing that is true: when he tells me he loves me I believe him. Belief abounds more and more as we walk through life together. And each time he tells me maybe I should first say “I believe you,” before I say “I love you, too.” Which makes me wonder if God would like to hear the same thing from me. Are trust and belief foundational to my love for him? Each time I see a sunset I’m sure he painted just for me, or my favorite song comes on the radio just as I turn it on, I feel his love and affection. And oh, how badly I want to return it.

Lord, I love you.

I trust you.

I believe you.

And while I am doing better about believing David these days, don’t worry, I still manage to find other ways to bring the awkward.

________________________________________________________________

Want to read more from Holly Mackle then check out her personal blog, DiggingSuburbia and look for her contributions at enCourage, check out On Disney, Dreams, and the Dream to Come.

Tagged , , , , ,
Apr 22 2016
1 Comment
Uncategorized Aside

3HardWords_Idontcare

I don’t care.

Have you ever met a character named, Apathy? Well, not sure how you answered that question but I assure you, I have met Apathy. I have met, courted, got together with, divorced, reconnected, left and yet still find Apathy and I are an item. We have a real on again, off again relationship. Apathy seems to be the one getting the most out of the relationship. But I could go on for days about that! Oh, you want to hear more about Apathy? Sure, I’ll gladly fill you in.

I have several names that I would love to call Apathy. Most not worth the waste of space in this post, the others might require my grandmomma to stop reading my blog (He says with a wink and a smile). Apathy loves, I emphasize LOVES, to stay beyond its welcome. It’s suffice to say that a little bit of Apathy goes a long way, too. You suffer it’s company too long and you find you can’t get rid of it. It’s like a piece of toilet paper that attached itself to the bottom of your shoe in the public restroom. No matter how violently you shake your foot that thing is stuck. Removal requires a very personal touch. You have to bend over and force it away. It will not go willingly and pieces of it might hang on. It’s embarrassing because you rarely notice its presence yourself. Someone has to tell you its there. It is completely demoralizing.

So, if you will allow me, I like to tell you more specifically about my dance with Apathy. No, I didn’t step on it in a bathroom (hush, I see you smiling at yourself). I discovered last year that I had been suffering from a very severe case of “I don’t care.”  It took me a good number of years and a good bit of pain revisiting different events of my life to find out where I made Apathy my partner in crime. With the help of some very patient, very kind, very loving men in my life who weren’t afraid to ask me tough questions and didn’t settle for my standard issue answer of “I don’t care… it doesn’t matter,” I finally found the event.

What I discovered by not only revisiting the event, but by reliving the hurt (and looking at it through a lens of grace) I was able to determine where my dream crashed and burned up into ashes. I watched it die. I told myself then and there I wouldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t let myself be hurt like I was hurt at that church staff meeting where it all went wrong. Ministry was my dream and as I sat in that meeting again as a spectator this time I saw the crushing blow that was delivered to me that fateful day. I recounted all the lies that I believed leading up to the meeting where I would get called out for having a legitimate question and concern about something that was being asked of me. I watched as I person I trusted and had expected to mentor me and shepherd me took no regard for me or any other of the staff members. I watched a hurt, broken man, hurt others (who were and are just as broken). I watched as hurt people hurt other people. I watched a church hurt because of that hurt and brokeness. I had blamed myself in that moment and so many moments afterwards. There I realized how that event seized power of me. I felt terribly alone and confused. I vowed I would not put myself in a place where I could hurt like this again. I vowed I would not have my dream crushed again, so I chose not to dream. I vowed I wouldn’t get caught up in caring because there is only hurt there. So, I accepted Apathy as a mate and put on my golden band of “I don’t care” and wore it proudly. I crawled into my shell and dared the world to get me to come out.

I held to my vows too. I pushed the “I don’t care” attitude like it was my job. I didn’t care. My dream was dead and so was I. Life had dealt me lemons and turns out I don’t care for lemonade. I waited for God to do something about it, but I developed the impression that He had accepted my “I don’t care” attitude and was sharing the burden with me (by not caring Himself). I believed lies that I told myself that He didn’t care. He didn’t care that people who claimed they were called by Him to do His work had done this to me. He didn’t care that my dream laid in a tomb. So I told him I didn’t care either. I told my wife who wants and still want more for me over and over, “I don’t care.” I told friends who sought to push me beyond this point, “I don’t care.” I couldn’t see why it mattered anymore. I had a vow to keep and Apathy did a fine job of helping me keep it.

Apathy fueled my disdain. Apathy told me it wouldn’t do any good to care because I would only find pain if I cared. It told me over and over that it didn’t care and that truthfully no one else did either. So why in the world should I? I took it hook, line, and sinker. Signed, sealed, delivered I’m yours, and I don’t care. The aforementioned event took place 7 years ago.

Yes, seven years ago and I still remember that meeting like it happened 7 minutes ago. There are times I still think I am going to push away from table where the meeting took place like I had been daydreaming (a really bad daydream mind you). For the past seven years, I have been stuck. I didn’t have words for my feelings. My soul wanted to sing but it had no lyrics or tune to share. That is until I heard the song The Rain Keeps Falling by Andrew Peterson (click on the title to hear the song). I put the lyrics here because Andrew says what my soul longs put into words:

I tried to be brave but I hid in the dark
I sat in that cave and I prayed for a spark
To light up all the pain that remained in my heart
And the rain kept falling

Down on the roof of the church where I cried
I could hear all the laughter and love and I tried
To get up and get out but a part of me died
And the rain kept falling down

Well I’m scared if I open myself to be known
I’ll be seen and despised and be left all alone
So I’m stuck in this tomb and you won’t move the stone
And the rain keeps falling

Somewhere the sun is a light in the sky
But I’m dying in North Carolina and I
Can’t believe there’s and end to this season of night
And the rain keeps falling down
Falling down
Falling down

There’s a woman at home and she’s praying for a light
My children are there and they love me in spite
Of the shadow I know that they see in my eyes
And the rain keeps falling

I’m so tired of this game, of these songs, of the rote
I’m already ashamed of the line I just wrote
But it’s true and it feels like I can’t sing a note
And the rain keeps falling down
Falling down
Falling down

Peace, be still
Peace, be still

My daughter and I put the seeds in the dirt
And every day now we’ve been watching the earth
For a sign that this death will give way to a birth
And the rain keeps falling

Down on the soil where the sorrow is laid
And the secret of life is igniting the grave
And I’m dying to live but I’m learning to wait
And the rain is falling

Peace, be still
Peace, be still

(Peace, be still)
I just want to be new again
(Peace, be still)
I just want to be closer to You again
(Peace, be still)
Lord, I can’t find the song
I’m so tired and I’m always so wrong
(Peace, be still)
Help me be brave tonight
Jesus, please help me out of this cave tonight
(Peace, be still)
I’ve been calling and calling
This rain just keeps falling
(Peace, be still)
I’ve been calling and calling
But this rain just keeps falling and falling
(Peace, be still)
Is it You
Is it You
(Peace, be still)
Is it true
Is it You
(Peace, peace)

But even now, as I have been putting this story into words (literally thinking to myself “no one cares”), I realized something very significant. It has been seven years since that happened (I know I wrote this same thing earlier, it’s just now sinking in). I can hear the shofar blowing. The announcement of the year of Jubilee is here. God has been giving me rest (it has not felt like rest by any means). He is claiming His stake in me. He has cancelled the debts and is calling me to do the same. I am no longer a slave to apathy. I no longer have to bear the burden that was never mine to carry. It’s time for Jubilee! I hear the Father saying, “I don’t care what you vowed. You are free from it. I don’t care that you blamed me for that event and the results of it the past seven years. I don’t care that you aren’t who you used to be. I don’t care that the dream died. I have power over death. I don’t care to see you live like you live now. I care for you. I care that you have a dream that I give you. I care to see my Son in you. You are my son and in whom I am well pleased. I care to see you alive. I care because you are mine and I will have you. I don’t care how long it takes, my son, I will wait for you.”

I don’t care for Apathy anymore. I don’t care what it costs to dream again, you make beauty from ashes so raise mine up. I don’t care if I break the vows I made that day when it all went wrong. I don’t care if no one else reads this, I needed to write it. I don’t care to choose anything but you Lord. I don’t care to believe the lies that I’m alone. I don’t care to believe the lie that I don’t matter. I care to live and live more abundantly. I care to be free.

I hear Him singing over me with joy and whispering to me, “Peace,be still.” And I have to ask:

Is it You? Is it true? I just want to be new again. I just want to be closer to You again. Help me be brave tonight. Jesus, please help me out of this cave tonight. I keep calling and calling, and the rain just keeps falling. I believe it’s You. I believe it’s true. And for once, I do care.

3 Hard Words: I don’t care

Apr 11 2016
2 Comments
Uncategorized

I Don’t Know (Whitney Blackston)

3HardWords

As a part of the 3 Hard Words series, I have invited a special guest to share a part of their story. This young woman is special to me for one because she is part of my family. Two, I have seen her heart (you will too by the time you finish this post) and it is beautiful. Third, she has an incredible story that she shares with raw honesty and deep emotion. I invite you to check her blog out (which she just started, Emerson’s Mom Blog) over the coming months as I am certain powerful words of encouragement, enlightenment, and emotion will emerge. Prepare yourself for a moving read. Without further adieu, I give you Whitney Blackston.

I am Emerson’s mom. I realize that may not mean anything to you, but it mean’s everything to me. Emerson is my special needs daughter that God thought would be the best way to swerve my car right into His lane of traffic… If you know what I mean? She has a lot of impairments, just to list a few she is blind, hearing impaired, tube-fed, and breathes through a trach. That only skims the surface of it. In an effort to make a long story short, we didn’t know that she had all of this going on until the day she was born.
Oh that day! That day was quite a blur except for the very real fact that NO ONE knew what was going to happen to her. Three simple word began to terrorize my existence. You know those 3 words that give you all the feelings of anxiousness, doubt, and uncertainty… I DON’T KNOW. If you were to ask me how many times we said that phrase or heard it over the next few days, all I could tell you would be… I don’t know.
Quite honestly, when I was on the edge of the table receiving a spinal tap before my C-Section, I found tears running down my face. They were not happy tears. It was because I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what. All I could say to myself was “Something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.” She was born, and the doctors immediately went to work. I felt only pain, not physical pain but emotional pain. I was paralyzed by the fear and uncertainty of not knowing if my daughter would live long enough for me to feel the life inside her. I just wanted her in my arms.
She had to be transferred by air to a better equipped NICU, three hours away, to deal with all of her medical needs. Emerson was brought to me in an incubator to say goodbye, and as my fingers slipped from her little hands as they rolled her away, I thought to myself: Did I sufficiently express my love to my Emerson in that brief moment? I don’t know. I felt like I was losing the very thing that my heart longed for. It was so unbearable all I wanted was to numb the pain… So I slept for hours. When I was sleeping I didn’t feel the pain, fear, anxiety of whether or not that would be the last time I would see my little baby girl alive. “I don’t know played on repeat in my head for every question I asked myself: Does she know she is not alone? I don’t know. Does she know she is loved more than words can express? I don’t know. Do I even know if she will live? I DON’T KNOW!
The only way that I can describe how those three words impacted me through that time was through tears….. I was inconsolable with every step I made. I cried the whole three hours to Jackson. I cried as my husband and I prepared to go the hospital, and as we walked the longest walk to her bedside in the NICU. I cried for hours there. I feel like it was very apparent during those times that all the emotions that were conveyed were a product of three hard words: I don’t know… “I don’t know what her diagnosis is… I don’t know if we should put her through this, we just need to see if she will live.” “I don’t know how bad it is…” “I don’t know if I can do this… Really I don’t know how to do this.” “I don’t even know if she knows I am here…” “I just don’t know…” More tears.

The realization of the fact that I ultimately had no control over the situation devastated me. It wasn’t like it was “I don’t know if it is going to rain tomorrow, I don’t know what we are having for supper. Ooopps the gas light is on… I don’t know if I have enough to make it to town.” It was the very real and delicate life of the daughter that I had been praying for. I didn’t know how many days she would be with us. I didn’t know what any of this madness meant. I didn’t know if there was a good outcome. I didn’t know what to do or what to say? I didn’t know where to turn. I was so blinded by all of the results of uncertainty to even be reminded of His truth and promises. Tears were the only thing I knew for sure. How many of them rolled down my cheeks? I don’t know.

A short time after we had found our footing in our new season, God reminded me that He has got this, and I can’t see the truth if my eyes are constantly being obstructed by tears. The antidote was revealed, and it was faith. I know this seems so simple… Oh the remedy is faith! But brothers and sisters it is hard to be confident in what we hope for and sure about things we do not see (Heb. 11:1) when there is bad news around every corner. Right? Some people smell what I am stepping in here….

The thing is I had to be given new eyes. New eyes to see Him working in what seemed like an impossible situation. She might be on a ventilator, but she is alive. Right? She may be blind, but she will know the feel of her Mama and Daddy’s hands. She may be deaf, but she will feel our love for her in our touch. It may seem like we are defeated, but God works all things for the good of those who love him. I had to pray for Him to reveal Himself to me. That is what He says remedies the anxiety one feels from the “I don’t know” times in their life…. “Don’t be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”(Phil. 4:6-7) That is what we really want to know in those “I don’t know” moments…. Peace. He tells us how to get it… I don’t know (there are those 3 words again) why we go against what we know will cure us of the ailing that uncertainty causes during hard times, but I do know that we have to find our way back to truth when we are dragged away from what’s right in front of us during that moment. That moment is temporary, but His truth stands the test of time.
Here are somethings I still don’t know…. I don’t know how long she will live. I don’t know when or if she will ever walk. I don’t know what cognitive abilities she will have. I don’t know how she will make it in a world that has the tendency to make her feel less than enough. There are so many “I don’t knows.”

But here is what I do know…. He has ordained her days. If she doen’t walk, there are wheel chairs. I don’t know if she will ever say a word, we have sign language. I don’t know if the world will accept her for who she is, but Emerson knows love and as her mother I will always remind her she is enough. His Word says to trust in Him with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.(Proverbs 3:5) So in my world full of “I don’t knows” I am attempting to steer clear of trying to understand everything, and instead remembering it is too exhausting to do His job for Him. I don’t know how to be God. It’s not up to me to know. “I don’t know” defines many questions I have in life, but it does not define the love I know my Father has for me, my husband, and our precious Emerson. I KNOW He loves us and that is enough for me.

Mar 15 2016
1 Comment
3 Hard Words

3 Hard Words: I don’t know

Over the next few weeks, I hope to posts a little series called 3 Hard Words. These words are sometimes hard to say, sometimes hard to hear, and sometimes both. I assure you anyone who reads this posts and the ones to come will have some familiarity with these words. My hope is we can learn together how to make them easier words.

I Don’t Know

Why is “I don’t know” so hard to say. Why are we so afraid of making this confession? It’s certain none of us know everything, so why would it come to a shock to someone if we uttered the words, “I don’t know”? Are these words that hard to hear?

So, perhaps I should set the stage a little better. The situation has a lot to do with how comfortable we are with stating or hearing these 3 words. Take a child who has just done something they were not supposed to, you the parent ask “What happened?” The child is quick to proclaim, “I don’t know.” These words at this juncture are not that hard to hear that is of course unless you child is mumbling (high probability). Does the lack of truth in the words remove their power?

In another situation, let’s say the doctor has just delivered news that a loved one has an incurable disease. You ask how did this happen or what can we do? Why is it we are scared to hear the words “I don’t know”? Why is the doctor reluctant to say the words “I don’t know” even if the reality is he or she has no clue? Why does stating something truthful become so hard to say and/or hear? Does the presence of truth (whether known or inferred) give it power?

I don’t know.

Let those 3 hard words sit there for a moment…

I don’t know.

Getting our minds around the 3 words isn’t hard. It’s coming to grasp with them in our hearts that’s hard. We want to know. It doesn’t matter what the question is, we can’t handle not knowing. There must be an explanation, an answer to wrap it all up with a pretty bow. Knowing, regardless of the scenario, would make it easier we think.

I don’t know.

Are you frustrated just reading the words? Does it bother to you see them standing out there all by themselves?

I don’t know.

What rises up in you as you read them?

I don’t know.

These words trouble me. They get all over me. I want to know. Aren’t I entitled to know? Isn’t knowledge my right? Right now, I can think of too many questions where I know “I don’t know” would be the answer and it unnerves me just a little. A struggle emerges within me as I think about the weight of those words. They are so heavy, but in most of my questions they should be light.

What’s next? I DON’T KNOW.

What are you going to do? I DON’T KNOW.

What are you waiting for? I DON’T KNOW.

How long will you have to wait? I DON’T KNOW.

As I have wrestled with these questions and the 3 hard word answers, I have realized something significant. I don’t know isn’t a burden. It’s a release. A release to trust the One who does know.

I find as I get behind these questions, there is something deeper to them. I find there is a desire behind them, a desire for SHALOM. I think by answering the question(s) I will find peace and rest. SHALOM. I keep asking myself will the answer be enough? I don’t know. So I keep asking the question and I find the answer is really no. I want the Way. I want the Truth. I want the Life. These 3 hard words actually force me into an uncomfortable place where I must trust the Father and His provision. The thing I must know is the All Knowing One and He is exactly what I don’t know. I choose to not know Him. He is revealing Himself and making Himself known, but I am stubborn. He asks me, “Who Am I?” and I mumble I don’t know. He asks me, “What have I done for you?” I grumble, “I don’t know.” He says to me, “I know you.” And I lose it.

I desire to know and be known. Being known gives me peace. And when I hear the Father say, “I know you” after that sets in He asks another question, “What do you feel?” I have to answer…

I don’t know.

Peace and rest are hard to describe. I don’t know how to put into words what rushes over me in those moments. I don’t know if I could accurately communicate the feeling even if I could find the words. I don’t know when or where it begins or when or where it ends. I don’t know that I care to know that answer. Who knew “I don’t know” could be so freeing?

Will any of this post make sense to you? I don’t know.

But, I hope you will wrestle with your own, “I don’t know”s. I pray these 3 hard words force you into an uncomfortable place where you find freedom and desire that you didn’t know. May you seek to know and be known, it’s an adventure and where will it take you?

I don’t know.

 

 

 

 

Tagged , , ,
Feb 10 2016
2 Comments
Reflections

On Being Called…

first_base_1

It’s getting close to baseball season. A time of year, I really do enjoy, albeit less than I used to back in the day. Playing baseball filled many spring and summer days for me. I mean many. As I think back on those fun filled evenings, I can still smell the hamburgers grilling, the fresh cut grass, and the leather of my glove. I can still feel the seams of the ball and the overpowering weight of Mississippi humidity weighing on my lungs. I can still hear the sound of a pitcher digging out his spot on the mound, the crack of aluminum making contact with the ball, dugout chatter, parents cheering their kids on. It’s all still so real, but it was ages ago.

As I have been reflecting over the past few weeks about big moments in my life, I remember one particular from sports. I don’t recall how old I was (neither do my parents as it turns out, “love you guys”) but what I do remember is I had decided that year I wasn’t going to play baseball. My parents had given me the choice and I had made my mind up. I was done with baseball. In all honesty, I don’t remember why this had been the case, but that was that and me and baseball were done.

Very content in my decision to ditch the sport, I went about my life. Happy as could be. One Saturday, my mom and dad sat me down in the den and told me that one of my friend’s dads wanted to talk with me on the phone. They told me up front, “He’s going to ask you about playing baseball this year.” I remember thinking to myself, I already decided not to play. The deadline to sign up has past, but sure I’ll talk to him. They handed me the phone.

“Alan, this is Johnny Lochridge. I know you didn’t sign up to play ball this summer, but I was hoping I could change your mind. You see, I need you to play for me this summer.” Wait, did he just say, he needed me to play? All I can say at this point is, “Yessir… why do you need me to play?” Mr. Johnny continued, “I need a first baseman.”
“But, Mr. Johnny, I don’t play first base. I never have.”
“I know, Alan. But that’s about to change.”
There was silence on my end. My head was spinning. Let me explain why.

Up until this point, I had only played outfield. A position where not a lot happens. All the cool kids played infield (at least that’s what I thought and felt at the time). Infield was where the action was, you had to be in the game all of the time when you played infield, especially a base. (Again, I was young this is just what I thought). But all the baseball stars I looked up to played infield. Will Clark, Mark McGuire, Cal Ripken Jr., Ryne Sandberg, Rafael Palmeiro.
Who was I that I was being asked to move to the infield? Why? What had I done?

“You still there, Alan?”
“Yessir.”
“Will you play for me?”
I looked at my mom and dad inquisitively. They both shook their heads, giving the indication that it was indeed ok and it was my choice.
“Mr. Johnny, I will play for you.”
“Great! Thanks, Alan. I will see you at practice.”
I handed the phone to my mom and dad and resumed whatever it was I was doing prior to the phone call.

In reality, I received that call because they needed a few more players to make 3 full teams for that season. But, Mr. Johnny made it feel like more than that. I had never even known I wanted to play first base and certainly had never said anything about playing the position. To him it may have only been a way to sweeten the deal to secure another kid for the team. As for me, it was so much more than just playing baseball. Mr. Johnny has no idea how that phone call impacted me that day (I truly had no idea at the time either) and how that phone call and that request still impact me today even years down the road.

You see, I realize now that at that stage in my life I had begun to believe the lie I was a nobody. That phone call, however, called me to something. By saying yes, I would be something.

Is being a first baseman really a big deal? No of course not. But I was going to be Mr. Johnny’s first baseman. For some reason, that fact changed a lot for me. I felt needed. I felt like I mattered. I felt special. Heck, I felt like a first baseman and I didn’t even have a clue how to play the position. But, Mr. Johnny thought I could, so by golly I guess I can.

I remember, Mr. Johnny taking time at practice showing me how to play first base. How to get my feet right, how to stretch for the ball, how to scoop, etc. I remember my dad taking time after that first practice to go over all of it some more. This was all new, and it turns out it was hard work, but I loved it. I was needed and I wasn’t going to let my coach down, I wasn’t going to let my dad down, and I wasn’t going to let my friends on my team down. I was a first baseman.

That became a defining season for me. No, I didn’t become a major league star. I did go on to play first base for many more years. I hold onto that moment and that season because I was called to play. Someone, outside of my parents and family, saw potential in me. They saw me doing something other than standing around with a uniform and glove on. I wasn’t just a body on the field. I had a purpose and that felt good. I changed that year. I got the opportunity to be someone and I chose to be that someone. Hi, I’m Alan and I play first base.

Mr. Johnny, you made that possible. You helped make the Alan that sits here and types this post possible. It may have not meant much to you making that phone call and asking me to play, but it meant a great deal to me. You did more than see a first baseman in me, you helped me see I was one. You made me one. Thank you. Thank you for seeing beyond a little boy with no experience. Thank you for calling me out to something specific. Thank you for not letting me quit something I did and still do enjoy. Thank you for doing more than asking, but making me a part of a team. Thank you, Mr. Johnny.

It’s easy to take for granted the little moments in our lives where something that seemed at the time, insignificant. It isn’t until we are well removed from that moment that we realize (probably not even fully) the impact or significance of that particular point in time. We have no way to see beyond what’s right in front of us. However, we can see a great deal more when we take the time to look back. Looking back gives us better perspective to look forward. That particular moment becomes fuller, has richer detail, and more weight. So, I don’t hesitate to look back today and share. As I reflected, I saw more and that more gives me hope as I look forward. I don’t know what’s coming. But, I know I’m needed. I know I am someone. I am know I am called. I know I will be called on again. I know I will be ready to say, “Yessir. I will play for you,” when that call comes.

Tagged , ,
Feb 05 2016
Leave a comment
Uncategorized

My Beautiful Grace

Grace.jpg

This is a little prose I composed while doing some soul searching back in August of 2014. The arrival of my little girl came at a time I was unaware I needed her. Sure, I wanted a child but I had no clue I needed the one God gave me. This is my remembrance of His grace to me and how much I treasure her. Thank you Father for my little Grace.

 

I hope one day to show you just exactly how great you are.

You entered into my life when things were looking dire.

 

I had failed to see your true beauty til this moment just now.

But oh my God, thankfully I found you…

You are my beautiful Grace.

 

As tears stream down my face I thank God above

For finding in his richness to bless me with little Grace.

 

Forgive me, if I keep repeating that I love you more and more.

It’s only because He saved me with His never-ending Grace.

 

You came in a moment I didn’t even know I was in need

You brought me hope and meaning

You are my Ella Grace.

 

 

Grace.jpg

Jan 26 2016
Leave a comment
Musings

I Lie to Myself

I Lie to Myself

Yes, I lie to myself. And if you are really honest with yourself, you probably do too. Before you argue (or start a storm of comments) let me show you a quick clip from the Christmas classic, Curious George: Christmas Monkey. Let me set the scene for you. The man with the yellow hat is trying to figure out what George wants for Christmas. He even follows him around all day and can’t put his finger on it. This is his monkey, he should know, but he doesn’t. And so begins the conversation he has with himself…

Watch the clip here: https://youtu.be/XnyJ68xzt9I

Did you see what happened? Did you notice what the man in the yellow hat told himself? Nobody told him those lies. He told them to himself. He was very convincing. I DO THAT ALL OF THE TIME. Here’s what I find unique about the lies we tell and believe about ourselves.

1. They are simple statements.
2. They are grossly overstated.
3. They attack our core being.

The man in the yellow hat declares, “Tomorrow, I will have ruined Christmas for a little monkey.” Note how that statement (lie) fits all three criteria I just outlined. It’s simple, its grossly overstated, and it attacks his core being. Even if he doesn’t find the perfect gift for George my guess is Christmas will not be ruined for little George. Ok, I hear you. What does the man and the yellow hat and Curious George have to do with me? Great question, I am so glad you asked. Let’s dig in.

To help go deeper, I will use an example from my own life. It’s the example I know best. I regularly tell myself, “I’m not good enough.” I can then back this simple statement up with one if not many examples of where I feel I’m not good enough, where no one wants me, and isn’t evident. This particular lie I tell myself plays well with Anxious Alan. The minute the alarm sounds Anxious Alan jumps on it. He has much to add and it’s all so comforting. He will add something along the lines of, “Ugh, since you aren’t good enough, how in the world will you provide for your family? And while we are at it, what’s next?” Next thing you know, I’m curled up in a ball, sucking my thumb, wishing it would all just go away. And who did this to me? ME!

I want to tell you I don’t hear little voices and the truth is, I don’t hear voices…I only hear one voice. It’s a voice I have known for a very long time. It’s a voice I can’t mistake. It’s a voice with power, with influence, and with bite. It’s my voice. And it’s almost impossible to tune that voice out. But, I have found a powerful weapon. This weapon is effective. This weapon has great power and I will shoot straight with you, I don’t use this weapon enough. This weapon saves me daily and I give thanks to our Father above for making sure I not only have this weapon at my disposal but I actually use and believe in this weapon. Ok, ok. I hear you. I’ll tell you what the weapon is. Are you ready?

It’s people who love me. When I tell these people (my wife, my brothers, my family) I’m stuck in a lie, they blast the lie(s) sky high with truth. Most of the time, they don’t wait for me to tell them I’m in need. They know and they are faithful to rise to the occasion. I have hope, I have value, I have reason to fight on because these lovely people God has saw fit to surround me with don’t let me steep in the ugliness I so willingly believe and accept.

Lies only have the amount of power we give them. If you are like me, then you know you have the ability to give those lies SOME KIND OF POWER. You take one lie and fill it with another lie. When that lie doesn’t seem like enough you shove another lie in there. This process goes on repeat with no rinse cycle. Those voices (yes, you’re right, voice) just keep getting louder, until your head and your heart hurt. Little to nothing dulls the pain like more pain and that’s what we all do to ourselves. I can’t tell you to stop it. I wish I could. But I can tell you, don’t suffer alone. You hear me! DON’T SUFFER ALONE. Because, you aren’t alone.

Sure, you can argue with me and yourself all you want. Someone out there wants to fight with you and for you. Someone (someones) desperately wants/needs to be a voice of reason. Give someone the opportunity to be life giving and let them speak truth into your life. Share your burden. You happily take on the burden of others and don’t let them believe their lies. Let them give back! Here’s a little secret…they want to!

Be encouraged today by the Word and do your best to live this:
Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.
We ask you, brothers, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast what is good. Abstain from every form of evil.
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. – 1 Thessalonians 5:11-24

Friends, don’t let your voice be the only voice you hear. Isolation will destroy you. Find the joy that comes when you let others into your life. I know, many of you have and have been hurt by others. Those words don’t fall on deaf ears. Seek good company and I assure you, you will find it with time. I can tell you, this is a worthy pursuit and one that will pay a hefty return for you and them. Don’t let the one voice ruin you. Let voices of truth have a say too. And then, you can confidently say, “I hear the voice in my head, but I love and believe the ones I hear in my heart because they come from the heart of those who love me.”

To all those who speak truth into my life:

You speak louder than the voice in my head. I hear you and I acknowledge the truth you proclaim. You make Anxious Alan sit down and get calm. You make me look beyond the current situation into the promise of more. Thank you, each and everyone of you, a million times over and know that I love you.

Tagged ,
Jan 21 2016
Leave a comment
Musings, Patience

Wandering with Purpose

 

tolkientext

Not all those who wander are lost

I am a wanderer, but I am not just happening around in hopes of finding my way. I may appear lost at times, and often I feel that very sentiment. I go a direction to only a find a dead end or no end at all and it worries me (Hi, I am anxious Alan, and I am anxious). I know the end goal, but I especially like to know what’s next. I get incredibly anxious when I don’t know what’s next. Seriously, it bothers me.

When I find myself at these points (all too often I find I am there) I have to ask myself, “Am I really venturing aimlessly?” At a glance, I feel certain that is the case, and you would probably agree. But what if we look longer? What if we gaze in wonder at the wanderer? What happens when we carefully consider the path?

In my “must know now” mentality, I am quick to be discouraged, disappointed, and downhearted at my current state. I don’t know where this path is leading next. I know in part where I want to go, but what if the path doesn’t lead there? What then? Did I miss something? Am I going the wrong way? My immediate response is, “YES!!! Of course, you moron. You missed it! You good for nothing twit, how did you get yourself into this? I swear, close your eyes for one second and you aren’t just off the the path, you are completely off course and in utter disarray.” Yes, that’s how I respond to myself. However, I am learning right NOW, that perhaps a little more (ok, ok, a lot more) consideration is needed.

I recall the story of when God called Abram (Genesis 12, click to read the story), God didn’t tell Abram which way to go. He said, “Go!” and Abram went. Abram didn’t ask for directions, God said, “Go to the land that I will show you.” Abram didn’t know the land (the end goal) much less the way (the what’s next) to the land.  It’s inferred to Abram, if you come I’ll (God) show you the way. I try to imagine how this must have sounded to Abram and what he must have been thinking to himself: Uh, what? Go. Go where? You will show me, oh ok, so which way do I need to go to get started? All ways lead out from my father’s land and my father’s house, but which would you prefer me go? I feel lost already and I haven’t even taken a step. Well great, this is going well.”

So yes, what you just read is probably more accurately describes how I feel than anything. In all truth, we don’t know how or even if Abram struggled with God’s call (at least in the beginning). We know he doubted things along the way. We know he took matters into his own hands at times, which all give me pause to think that he and I have a lot in common to God’s seemingly ambiguous call. It feels good to me to know that I am not alone in that regard. To make a long story short, I will highlight a few of Abram’s (Abraham’s) missteps along his journey into the land God had promised him. He lied to the Egyptian Pharaoh that Sarah was his sister not his wife, he knew Sarah’s maidservant and had a child with her before having a child with Sarah, he got into lots (ha, Lot his brother) with or because of Lot, and he often wandered from the place he was supposed to be.

Despite Abram’s doubts, despite Abram’s misbelief, despite Abram’s wandering, God was faithful to His promise. Abram believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness. Abram didn’t know the way, but He trusted the Way. He didn’t know what direction to take, but he knew he had to take a step. He didn’t know what was next, but that didn’t stop him from moving. He didn’t do it perfectly but God didn’t abandon Abram or fail him.

Abram’s story offers me hope. As I wrestle with it, I begin to see pieces of my story wrapped up in his. I heard and still hear God telling me, “Go.” I still tell God, “Hey, I went what’s next?” I am all caught up in the “what’s next” piece? It keeps me up at night. It fills my heart with anxiousness and worry. So much so, I feel I am missing things God intended for me to enjoy and learn… whilst I wait. Perhaps, if I spent more time waiting on the Father instead of waiting for the next thing, I would feel less lost. Perhaps my wandering would be less careless, aimless nexting (yes, I just invented a word) and WAY more enjoying and relishing the now and the being where I am.

I am beginning to see that GOING has less to do with direction as it does with obeying. GOING does not begin with “Is this the right way?” it begins with, “and we’re off.” What if the point is to get lost? Does Jesus not tell the parable of the Prodigal Son in which the the lost son’s father says, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” (Luke 15:24) Jesus also says that if a shepherd has 99 sheep and one is lost, will the shepherd not leave the 99 to find the one? (Luke 15:3). Yes, I know the point isn’t get lost, but it’s clear that being lost means something. Hard to know the joy of being found.

I am wandering, but I am not lost. My Father knows where I am. He actually is running to me because He has found me. I need the wandering because it reminds me of the Father and His love. It reminds me He is the one looking for me, because He is the only One who knows the land and the way through it.  Maybe, just maybe God is more concerned with us (that includes me and you) finding Him along the way than He is with finding out what’s next. The place He longs for us to be is with Him. I have to stop nexting and start being less lost. I believe, Father, help my unbelief.

← Older posts