Category: Life Insight

“…but, she’s an addict”

I get it.

I was sheltered, blah blah blah. I haven’t ever spiraled into worldly darkness at the mercy of a bottle nor have I ever hung out with people who have.

Maybe that’s what keeps a steady hope hanging out under my eyelids. Maybe that’s why I’m pushing against the callouses people wear around like fashion in this line of work.

“Go to rehab? She’s not going to rehab – 100 bucks says she used this morning and she’ll use tonight.”

“He used once? No, he’s an addict. Addicts don’t just use once.”

“They’ve been clean for 10 years, they said? Still addicts.”

The conversations are circular because I want so desperately to believe that people can change, that they can tell the truth, that they can love their kids more than they love their addictions. But people in this line of work have watched people never change, never tell the truth, and always choose their addictions over their children.

So, experience says I’m foolish and green and too wide-eyed.

I get that.

And I don’t want to be foolish about my hope. But, there is one thing I wish was more culturally acceptable to introduce into conversations about addicts.

“…but, she’s an addict.”
“But, have you met my Jesus?”

And so I pray. I pray that things work out differently – for softened hearts and humble spirits. I pray for the addicts who are helpless against their vices. And in them I see me. I see the human condition. I see that we need Jesus. And so I pray.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 12

Trust in the Lord, and do good.

Piper suggested (well, he said “perhaps”) the whole Old Testament could be summed up in this tiny verse.

“Trust in the Lord, and do good.” Psalm 37:3

Does that cause you to pause at all? a little? Well, it does me. The whole Old Testament in seven words. Hm. Trust in the Lord is one of those “givens” I might breeze by in my morning reading because my heart is used to the way it sounds. Of course, trust in the Lord. Lean not on my own understanding. Yes, yes. Trust in the Lord and in His mighty power.

Have you ever done that when you are reading a book that has texts of Scripture in it? They appear as large chunks indented on either side to make them stand out and draw your attention. Sometimes (embarrassed admission), I breeze past what feels like “givens” so I can get to the point. It’s like my mind is saying, “Caroline, of course you agree with that part – it’s Scripture. Just move on so you can find the conclusion.”

Well, this morning I lingered on Psalm 37:3 because I didn’t want to breeze past its truth. If I believe the Word is powerful and sharper than any two edged sword – that it never returns void and holds the secrets to abundant life – than nothing should ever be breezed by (no matter how many times I’ve read it).

“Trust in the Lord, and do good.” Psalm 37:3

Piper follows his assertion by saying, “…let the great works of past grace sustain your faith in future grace so that you always trust God rather than the offers of help and guidance that come from other gods or other counselors. The root issue behind the disobedience of Israel was lack of faith in future grace.”

Could the root issue of my disobedience look like similar faithlessness? The Israelites had many proofs of God’s faithfulness and salvation, but they chose unbelief. They chose not to trust the Lord’s word would be true for the future as it had been in the past. They chose instead to take their chances with a future of their own contriving.

The “do good” piece is not just tacked on for good measure. As much as the trusting is an act of belief in what God can and will do, “doing good” physically walks out this belief in the offices and street corners and dining room tables of life.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy…
today, where you are, as you trust in the Lord who empowered you to love at all
Posted on by Caroline 0

desire like dynamite

I’m looking at my week today. I’m just sitting here on this side of Monday thinking – what stories will unfold before next Monday comes? How will I step into the miracles of grace God has authored this week? What will those joyful moments look like and when will I do battle in the moments of temptation? What treasures are waiting to be discovered in the most unlikely of places?

I’m still on this side of Monday, just barely, and I’m ushering it in with Sandra McCracken’s song, “Dynamite” because I guess I want to think on the weight of another regular week. Yes, life goes on – an unsteady rhythm in an unsteady and shifting world that somehow feels routine. Another 9 am start to another five day week that’s about to happen… and these lines are breaking in to shake me free of going through the Monday motions.

You may not be in a place to imagine anything this morning, and if that’s the case you might want to come back and read this later because McCracken paints a picture you are meant to see in your mind’s eye.

“The heart takes what it wants, like dynamite.”

Dynamite is not a gentle thing – not a pleasant or friendly thing. It is unforgiving and indiscriminate in its destruction. And this is the image McCracken uses to talk about the heart: dynamite. That’s ugly.

I don’t like to think about my heart like destruction – the kind that thunders and smokes and overwhelms. I don’t like to think about a lot of ugly things. On this side of Monday, I am thinking about how desire is lit like dynamite.

“Those who have ears, as the smoke it clears, will see things as they are
To bend the will, you first must change the heart.”

But I’m also thinking about the moments before destruction is guaranteed – those moments when the will can still be bent by a change of heart.

Where are those moments in my today?
When will my heart race to take what it wants this week?

Oh, I know there will be many times. My heart is fickle and fragile and forgetting. I want things I’ll never admit to wanting and this week will not be any different than last week.

But, maybe if I know my desire like dynamite, I will listen for a different sound.

“Will we choose the noise of our desire or the hope that makes no sound?”

Maybe, I will choose to say “Yes!” to all the promises God has given me in Christ – all the ways He has provided the power to bend the will of my flesh by the change of my heart. Destruction is not unavoidable. The noise of desire is not so deafening that the silent sound of hope cannot penetrate it. A hope that does not disappoint (Romans 5) is as brilliant and as sure as this morning’s sun.

In 2 Corinthians 1:20 we read, “All the promises of God find their ‘Yes!’ in Christ.”

The God of creation sees our desire like dynamite and yet still offers a hearty and infallible YES in the person of Christ, who secures every promise God has ever given. Within this profound security, we can say “Yes!” to those promises – to the hope that makes no sound.

We can walk out this week in a way that doesn’t leave destruction in our wake.

I am reading through Future Grace by John Piper and this particular post is inspired by his words in Chapter 7 as well as Sandra McCracken’s song. 

Posted on by Caroline 0

what if you didn’t open your gifts?

I know – it sounds crazy.
Who doesn’t open gifts?

I was sitting across from a new friend tonight and I wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t taken advantage of that awkward “turn and greet your neighbor” moment at church last Sunday. What if I didn’t turn around? What if she didn’t extend her hand and say more than, “I’m Sarah, nice to meet you” in that wonderfully Sunday morning way? What if she hadn’t asked for my phone number?

I can tell you exactly what would have happened: after an appropriate amount of time passed (shaking hands, nodding heads, exchanging hellos), I would have sat down content that I had “been social” at this new church and prepared myself for the sermon. And then we would have exchanged “nice to meet yous” as we bundled up and got out the door with minimal awkwardness or personal exposure.

Well, thankfully, things worked out differently.

Tonight, I met a kindred spirit and it was a gift I almost didn’t unwrap. I almost didn’t know the heart in the row behind me loved books and theology and the gospel. I know it sounds strange to be surprised to find such a heart in church.

But it is a gift, to be sure. I listened to her crazy story of God’s faithfulness and she listened to mine. We very quickly had an understanding – an openness that is only grown in the fields of faith.

My friend Alejandra tells me, “You just know… when someone is a believer, you can feel a connection like you are related.”

That’s what happened tonight and I almost didn’t open the gift. God is so gracious to patiently introduce us to His community – to invite us into relationships that reflect Him. In His grace He offers gifts – often many inside every moment – and our opening of these gifts glorifies Him because we revel in satisfaction at what we find.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

and definitely take a few risks during that meet and greet time

Posted on by Caroline 2

sometimes I speed what should be slowed

I’ve been thinking lately about pace.

What speed is fitting as we pursue the Lord – is it always an all-out, relentless rush? Are we always breathless about getting to where God is leading?

I’ve been thinking about pace because I wonder if we sometimes speed what should be slowed. I wonder if we create some of the crazy that surrounds our spiritual sprints – like we’ve thrown into the air all the race markers and so haphazardly attempt to fix our eyes on Jesus while anxiously searching the way.

Maybe this isn’t making any sense to you (is it?), but I’ve sure noticed that God means for some things to be experienced slowly. Prayers are sometimes this way, and blessings. And suffering. Sometimes, it seems, we’d like to think we can control the outcome of the race we’re running, the “race marked out for us,” by more intensity. Or maybe it’s just me.

It is a beautiful thing to take slow steps of faith. Not timid steps, just slow and steady steps that say,

“I am not worried where my foot will fall. I am not anxious about getting somewhere sooner or later. I am at peace with the amount of grace God has given for this step. I do not doubt the Lord’s provision.”

It is a beautiful thing to take slow steps of faith and I’m learning this, slowly. Maybe it’s because slow steps allow my frenzied, distracted heart time to believe in the God who will sustain me.

Maybe my hurried, race pace is something I’ve thought up as a back-up plan if God’s doesn’t work. Maybe I need to be restful even while I’m determined to persevere as a runner in a race – believing that my finishing doesn’t depend on my performance as much as it depends on God’s grace.

“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” Psalm 56:3

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.” Proverbs 19:21

“It is in vain that you rise early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved.” Psalm 127:2

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34

Today, I’ll try taking slower steps.

This song seems to be about the right pace.

let LOVE fly like CrAzY
Posted on by Caroline 4

the conversation

I used to feel guilty when I had the conversation with the Lord.

Do you know the one I mean? It always starts incredibly sheepish and shameful – littered with my apologies for not coming sooner, not trusting deeper, not being a more regular penitent.

The words come like a flood at the beginning, offering all sorts of explanations for why I’ve been away, and then everything calms down and God reminds me of His promises – those beautiful truths with a floor that won’t fall out.

I used to feel guilty when I had the conversation, but now I just feel freedom because I’m not bargaining anymore. I’m not asking for fair exchange or bartering for a better deal. My apologies and excuses and guilt feelings change nothing about the transaction about to take place when I commune with my Savior.

Now the conversation is like sewing a tapestry instead of sewing a button hole. Have you ever sewed a button hole? You need very little thread and it takes very little time… you’ll also likely have to come back and sew it on again when it comes off because buttons get a lot of wear and tear. A tapestry is very different – 12 inches of thread and a needle won’t do it. The thread weaves in and out and in and out.

Yesterday, there was a beautiful baby in my backseat. She didn’t let out a single complaint about my driving or about our little road trip to see her mom for a supervised visit. She didn’t seem to mind that I needed to have the conversation with the Lord the whole way to our destination, but it wasn’t a bargain she heard.

I think I’m beginning to understand the sweet grace of the Lord’s promises. The salvation He offers daily is filled with everything I haven’t earned. I know I will be on the receiving end before the first word of apology can leave my lips. But a funny thing happens when I trust His freely given promises – love prompts me to promise back.

I don’t mean the rushed-and-desperate promises that I’ll get better, do more, try harder.

What I mean is that a conversation wove into my yesterday – a day that would have bent me to bargaining in the past. Yesterday was a day that I desperately needed everything to go well for my job and for the kiddos involved. Normally, the conversation might have happened a couple times in those real clinch moments but instead it got woven in.

As I made my morning coffee, I prayed for love that casts out fear and then claimed the casting out. When I got anxious, I petitioned for peace and then walked with calm, bold steps. With the little ones in transit, I trusted the Lord to cover my car and I drove.

Promises are a big deal. But my promises to God are held together by His promises to me. I cannot bargain and barter with the Creator of the universe, but I can live out the promises He has made for me and in me.

I can promise because He is faithful and my promises are nestled deep in the well of my salvation. I can promise because it magnifies the Lord who saved me.

What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord, I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people. Psalms 116:12-14 

I don’t feel guilty about the conversation anymore. I just feel freed.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 6

forget yourself in worship

Last week, I smiled with eyes closed at the woman sing-shouting several rows behind me and across the aisle at church. Her honest, lung-filled offering grated on me at first – silently wishing she would find her place in the worship chord and slide in a little less loudly.

Then, I smiled. Her sharp, wide-mouthed notes didn’t irritate me less (growing up a musician’s daughter has its drawbacks), but with eyes closed I imagined a different worship setting.

I imagined a crowd of people of all shapes and sizes and colors and tongues flooding a throne with an uproarious and joyful noise. I imagined new chords and instruments and I imagined that no individual voice could be identified. Every noise jumping out to make the song got swallowed up in the glory of the sound and there was a distinct awareness on the faces of the worshippers that the sound wouldn’t be as beautiful if every single person was not singing.

I smiled because that prideful irritation got planted in me but Christ, in His grace, could uproot it and He did.

This morning as I was reading this reflection by Tony Reinke, my thoughts drifted back to that moment. Why do I guard the Sunday morning experience as if the music is for me? Not that the offering should not be excellent (like I said, I am a musician’s daughter and it is not intolerant to say good music sounds different than bad music), because we should strive to make the best, most beautiful and joyful noise unto the Lord. Our praise offerings should be excellent.

But the Sunday morning experience, the behind the steering wheel radio experience, the living room stage experience and the robed choir experience should all make bold proclamation that the music is for a King seated on a throne. It might, but it doesn’t have to please me.

I’ll admit there are times when I have no audience but the cold air in my Civic, but I’m secretly more interested in my rendition of the Gungor song than I am in its object.

After showing several places in Scripture where Jesus sings, Reinke writes,

God is worshipped around the globe as a result of the all-sufficient work of the resurrected Christ. In this way, Jesus is the Perfect Worshipper of his Father. And from heaven he fulfills the role of Chief Worship Leader of the global church.

We are led in worship in the auditoriums and living rooms and driver’s seats of cars by Christ who directed all praise to the Father.

What song is in your soul today?
How is Christ leading you to join with Him in song?
How can you forget yourself in worship?

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 2

protection & presence

The front room is now a grayish color and the dining room looks like a latte. There are crafted things hanging on the walls and thrifted lamps lighting the corners. We have too many pillows, but they are all too wonderful and quirky to store away somewhere. The furniture is nearly all free or craigslisted or thrifted or clearanced. There’s a bronze candlestick holder that our great Aunt used as a doorstop (and could easily double as a defense weapon) that sits on a trunk-turned-sidetable.

My sister mainly brings the inspiration for the decorating of our house and I make sure we’re stocked with cleaning supplies. We’re a funny team – living together for the first time since she left for college in 2001. After about one month, we’ve snuggled in to our new home. Well, our landlord tells us it was built in 1887, so it hasn’t been new in a very long time, but we are shrugging into it like you would a good, worn-in pair of shoes.

And it feels good.

This city has life and we’re pretty close to the downtown heartbeat. If you’re used to the suburbs, our neighborhood would definitely earn the title “sketch” (especially if you stop by at night). But, if you’re inner-city familiar, then you would know our street is pretty quiet by comparison.

In any case, someone said we should get a deadbolt. Our front door is about 50 feet from the sidewalk and the doorknob locks like a bedroom. My sister and I aren’t worried about it, but enough people are that we mentioned it to our landlord.

Protection is something people get a little bit desperate about, a lot of fearful about. We want walls – tall ones – between us and danger. We want schools far away from any threat. We want bad people to stay away from good people. We want there to be some sort of buffer – a moat, perhaps, to keep safe away from unsafe.

I don’t have children, biological ones, anyway. But I am a child and I saw the tension in my parents’ eyes when I said I was going to Honduras. I heard their voices waver even while they said they were trusting the Lord. I could see their raised eyebrows in my rearview mirror as I drove them around Tegucigalpa. “Where’s that moat?” They seemed to ask. When we moved to this part of Des Moines, my dad raised those same eyebrows.

This morning, I read from Zechariah in my devotions,

and said to him, “Run, say to that young man, ‘Jerusalem shall be inhabited as villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and livestock in it. And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the LORD, and I will be the glory in her midst.’”(Zechariah 2:4-5 ESV)

The prophet said Jerusalem would grow out of her walls. She would increase in number so that the walls could no longer hold her. John Piper writes,

But walls are necessary! They are the security against lawless hordes and enemy armies. Villages are fragile, weak, vulnerable. Prosperity is nice, but what about protection?

To these questions, God lays out His promise, “I will be a wall of fire all around.” In the end, walls are still manmade and can be scaled and stormed by men. But a wall of fire – a divine wall of fire – is a force of protection that cannot be reckoned with. As the city expanded beyond its manmade protection into a weak and vulnerable state, God makes a promise to hover over the weak and vulnerable to offer miraculous preservation.

Piper continues to work through the passage,

And it gets better. Inside that fiery wall of protection he says, “And I will be the glory in her midst.” God is never content to give us the protection of his fire; he will give us pleasure of his presence.

I had to read this on replay this morning. God said, “I will be the glory in her midst.” God is not a cold, stone wall. He is not an inch thick defense plan. God is alive and God loves His people. The fire protects them in the most vulnerable and exposed situations and His presence comforts and pleases like nothing in this world.

Today, God is expanding His kingdom out into vulnerable, exposed, unguarded territory. We are not to fear.

Our Holy God is the best, surest protection and the most pleasing company.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 4

being innocent

Last night, I tried to give an update in the form of a limerick. It didn’t pan out, so I’ll spare you, but I did realize that I must discover again what it means to be childlike.

My beautiful friends asked, “Do you find joy in what you do?” in the incredulous ways friends do when you’ve just thoroughly depressed them. I snapped out of the glazed-over “here’s-how-I-answer-questions-about-my-job” mode and realized I will not survive if I forget to be as innocent as a dove.

Being innocent is possible.

Evil is not a new thing. It has not developed with the introduction of new laws and the deterioration of others. Evil has been around since those two lovebirds had a forbidden meal in paradise. Jesus’s “sending out” was not to go into the world and build houses to hide inside, away from the evil. Wisdom like serpents doesn’t come from staying safe, incubated from the weary world outside our doors. Jesus admonishes his followers to be innocent as doves – to step into all the ugliness and evil and somehow stay innocent.

Jesus was well aware of how twisted and sinful the world was when he gave this directive.

“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. (Matthew 10:16)

Being innocent is possible because Jesus is involved and he said so. That’s the bottomline. He would not command his followers to do something impossible – something He would not make possible in His power. I believe being innocent in this ugly, evil world is possible because God said so.

Being innocent is painful.

For a long time, I had the wrong view of innocence – a sheltered and unexposed upbringing fashioned it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond thankful that I didn’t know many things of the world until recently (and still am pretty clueless). I am thankful for all the ways I was trained up by my parents in righteousness and pointed towards Truth. Where my view of innocence got tangled up was when I started equating my experience to innocence. This does not match up with the experience for which Jesus was preparing His disciples. They would see horrible things, hear horrible things, and experience horrible things. They were not to sit comfortably indoors, far from the evil raging outside. Jesus commanded them to walk towards the pain and even into the pain so they could speak words He would give them. I love that His recruiting schpeel is probably the least persuasive invitation you’ll ever read. “Come, you will be hated by all for my name’s sake.” There is no sugarcoating this gig. Jesus is clearly not out to win the crowds into his service.

Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles. When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death, and you will be hated by all for my name’s sake. (Matthew 10:17-22)

Being innocent ends in reward.

But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next, for truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.(Matthew 10:22-23 ESV)

Jesus sent them out, into the evil, and told them to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I often turn this over and over in search of something spelled out in letters that can slice a dividing line. When am I too much like a serpent and when am I too fearful and distant like a dove? How does one straddle two extremes perfectly as she walks out the kingdom directive to go?

Christ.

I mean that as simply and mysteriously as it sounds. Christ answers our questions of when and how by telling us to be both wise and innocent, an impossible thing. In this impossibility, we begin to understand He is also the reward. Only someone who is God could give an impossible directive. Christ enables the straddling of two extremes in a way that brings us to our knees in praise. This most powerful God calls us into the impossible at the same time that He invites us into His presence. How deep the Father’s love that He would enter such a twisted, evil world and invite us to be with Him – to share in His heart for the nations. How deep the Father’s love. This is our reward.

Christ is the way we walk out wisdom and fly out innocence. Christ is the reason I can laugh and jump and play like a child even while I am learning the evils of worldly wisdom.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 3

joy lives next to loneliness

Sometimes more than other times I feel the weight of packed suitcases. It’s like a surprise that sweeps the hair straight up on my arms. I forget, I guess. Things get going – mornings and middays and meetings – and I forget, I guess, that home is not places.

Then the question drops like all kinds of innocence with friends at the dinner table, “So, how do you like living in Des Moines?”

There’s nothing special about the question, but it hits me like surprise and my hair stands straight up. It’s been a month and a half now, living in Des Moines and working as an in-home counselor, and the question is like paralysis. My mouth says the pleasantries, but my mind speeds by the years after college – Chicago, Austin, Tegucigalpa, Ames, and now Des Moines – and I realize I am still moving.

I get all kinds of emotional about the motion and I wonder if I’ll ever hang my hat or turn in my key or take off my shoes somewhere permanent. I wonder if I’ll ever stop moving. Now, I’m queasy.

My conscience pricks before self-pity sets in or some other such selfish device. Maybe this is the drama I create – maybe these thoughts are not even worth all the words. Having time to think about whether or not I like living in a certain city, whether or not I like working my new job, whether or not I like searching for a church… they are first world questions and I won’t pretend otherwise.

But it is not exactly a bad feeling I feel, this loneliness, and it is there getting stuck in my throat while I think up an answer to the question at the dinner table. I realize I may never get planted in a place of permanence on this side of heaven and it’s both a good and hard thought.

I suppose I am surprised to find joy lives so content next to this loneliness.
I suppose this is home.

And the mystery of this supposing can only lead me into praise.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Posted on by Caroline 3