Mourning Into Dancing

Most (if not all) of the time I wait to post about hard things in my life until I have heard from God about the issue.

Hm. Not tonight.

Today rocked my world. It was really difficult.

Amanda has prayed for me. She has reminded me that I can always trust God, no matter what happens.

Later, Hugh prayed scripture over me. Psalm 27. Psalm 55. His voice was strong as he spoke the Bible over me. I feel washed in the Word, indeed.

So.

I am going to wake up tomorrow - NOT at 6am. I am going to make coffee. I am going to stay in my prayer chair until I have prayed and cried and brought everything in my heart before God.

He is going to be faithful to me.

And then I’ll write Part Two.

6:01 am - I thank Amanda and hang up the phone. “Are you up?” she has asked groggily - and I marvel (not for the first time) at how blessed I am to have a best friend who has committed to call me every morning to hold me accountable for getting up early.

“You aren’t going to be able to sleep in when you go back to teaching,” she told me firmly, “so you need to start getting used to getting up now.”

6:02 am - I grip my coffee and turn on my computer. I am alert! I am excited! I know that I am going to meet with God this morning! I put on my iPod and turn it to my “Time With God 2″ playlist.

6:04 am - I turn on my Bible software and bring up my Prayer Word document. I click on my Biblesoft “Daily Bread” devotion.

6:06 am - I read a portion of Psalm 119 as my cat starts to play with the doorstop. I leap out of my chair and shove him away from the wall, frantic that the noise will wake up my three-year-old sleeping in the next room.

6:08 am - I start to read my next devotional book - a book on Genesis. Yes! This is so good. I am still alert and focused.

6:09 am - I realize that I am really tired.

6:15 am - I finish my reading and start to pray. I figure I need to be honest with God. “Lord, I am really tired and having a hard time staying awake. Could you please help me out?”

6:16 am - My cat jumps on my computer, almost spilling my coffee. I feel this rush of anger at him and wish I could throw him out of the room, but I am worried that he will go into my children’s rooms and wake them up.

6:31 am - I finish praying. I have prayed over my husband and my children. I have prayed for Amanda and for Erin. I tried to ask God some questions about some things going on in my heart but I struggled to focus and keep my eyes open.

6:33 am - I turn my iPod to a really loud, upbeat worship song and decide to spend some time focusing on God’s Presence. I am hoping that the loud music will help me wake up.

6:35 am - I sing and praise the Lord, my hands lifted.

6:36 am - My cat jumps up and starts butting his head against my uplifted hands, totally breaking my concentration on the Holy Presence of God. I feel even more angry and wonder why I even have a cat.

6:41 am - The song finishes, and I try again to pray over a major issue in my life, asking God to come and speak clearly.

6:43 am - I realize I have spent the last two minutes thinking about my new jeans instead of trying to listen to the Holy Spirit about the thing I was praying about.

6:44 am - My prayer time is done.

Sometimes I hear from God. Sometimes every Word of the Bible seems to speak directly to me. Other times, I think about my jeans and my cat while trying to stay awake. I think there was a time when mornings like this would have made me worried. “Do I have a bad prayer life? What’s wrong with me? Should I have read the Bible more?”

I don’t feel like that anymore. This morning I got up and I did meet with God. I have spent time in the Word and I have surrendered my day to Him. I have opened myself up to the Holy Spirit and focused (even just for a few minutes) on who He is.

My biggest takeaway from this morning is simply this:

My cat is going to be locked up in the laundry room every morning from now on.

Amen.

Last night Hugh and I were having a disagreement about laundry and dishes.

“Let’s take a break. This conversation isn’t going well at all.” Hugh said.

I knew what I wanted to do. I knew where I wanted to go.

Only one place could make me feel better. One place whose aisles are filled with things I need and things I want.

Target.

Of course.

I started to get dressed and grab my keys. “This will make me feel better,” I thought.

Then I stopped. I felt the restraint of the Holy Spirit as I remembered that “the love of Christ controls me (2 Corinthians 5:14).”

I repeated it over and over under my breath - “the love of Christ controls me…controls me” - as I stood in the hall.

And.

I didn’t go to Target! Woo hoo! Instead, I headed upstairs with a book and cooled down.

One small step for Jess, one giant step for our budget.

Sunday mornings are always delightful at my house. I usually stay up the night before making a breakfast casserole so that the smell of yummy homemade food wakes my sleeping children early the next morning.

They love getting up early on Sunday mornings - as do Hugh and I. We all make sure to be seated (my children have already dressed in their Sunday clothes before we eat - faces are washed, teeth are brushed) by around 6:45am so that we have plenty of time to eat our casserole and talk about the coming day.

Hugh usually uses this time to share one or two scriptures and then I lead the kids in a time of prayer as we finish breakfast.

I then have almost two hours to get ready for church. I take a long bath and take my time doing my hair and make-up while Hugh and the children clean up. Soft worship music is, of course, playing quietly in the background.

Bibles in hand, we head out early to church - plenty of margin. On the way, Hugh and I hold hands and talk about how grateful we are for each other.

…

Um, yeah, right.

If I were skilled with taking pictures, this is the point where I would post several pictures of my real morning.

A picture of my children screaming as I, in my old t-shirt, tried frantically to brush their hair. A picture of my kitchen, complete with whole wheat bagel and banana scattered all over. (Bagels and bananas - the best Sunday morning breakfast my children have had in months.) Finally, a picture of me throwing on clothes while being irritated with every member of my family for trying to talk to me.

I guess horrible Sunday mornings always leave me feeling kind of tired Sunday afternoon. But as I sat on my bed, room darkened as I read through some emails, I could hear my daughters start to sing.

Together, their two little voices echoed from the kitchen where they finished lunch. “Jesus loves me all the time…All the time…All the time…Jesus loves me all the time…”

I’ve never heard the song before - they must have learned it at church. As their voices sang over and over, my heart lightened and I let the tension of the morning wash away from me.

He loves me all the time. If I leave late for church, have a messy house, and am a total grump - He loves me. The harder times, too. He loves me in the middle of every mess, big or small.

I forget this sometimes, or I doubt it when I make mistakes - but His love is consistent and nothing will separate me from it (Romans 8).

A good reminder for me today - and next Sunday, when my casserole goes uncooked and my tension of getting out the door threatens to affect another morning.

Jesus loves me all the time.

So all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.

-2 Corinthians 3:18

Last night after my weekly Bible study was over Hugh and I had a few minutes to connect before going to sleep.

We lay in bed and talked over the coming day, and I told him about the different things I had going on. He was silent for a moment, and then asked, “Um, why didn’t you talk to me about these plans, Jess?” as he slipped his arm around my waist.

This is where, I am sorry to say, I became immature. I pushed his hand away and told him I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. “I’m tired,” I said - but I was actually just irritated that he was confronting me on not talking with him about my plans before I made them.

Three seconds later (because my man is tired) he was snoring. Loudly. In my ear. I felt this little twinge of sadness at how I handled the situation, but figured it was a small thing. I mean, pushing Hugh’s hand away is a lot better then explosive anger, right?

This morning as I read 2 Corinthians 3, I was struck by just how much my actions were not like those of Jesus. Was I reflecting the glory of God towards Hugh? I have had the veil removed, I have the Holy Spirit of God in me, and that needs to be reflected in my marriage.

Paul says that the Holy Spirit will make me more and more like Jesus as I am conformed to His image. I want to walk in this truth. I need to become more like Jesus - and I seriously doubt that Jesus would push Hugh’s hand away. Nor would He dismiss my actions as a small thing - any wall that I put up in my marriage is a serious thing - as I should have learned by now.

I want to make choices to keeping pressing on to become more like Christ. I do not want to become satisfied with only “little” sins or small bad attitudes - no. I want to day by day become conformed to His image.

So when Hugh is talking to me, instead of tuning him out, I listen. When I feel like overspending at Target, I pause. When I want to disengage as a mom, I go and spend intentional time with my children.

Little by little. More and more. Like Jesus.

Father, I love you. Please show me each day what it looks like to become more like your Son. I want the love of Christ to so consume me that I am spurred onward and upward into becoming conformed into His image. Holy Spirit, you are the Counselor - please show me. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

I have been so angry this week. Resentful. Irritated. Judgmental. I keep looking around frantically for a reason to point to - something that could excuse my attitude - and finding nothing.

My mood is seeping over onto everyone in my house - but the person who is getting the brunt of my anger is my five-year-old Hannajean.

Her room - a disaster. Every toy is always out. Piles fill the floor. As I clean up, I seethe with frustration. I think, “She doesn’t respect me.”

Her bedtime - a joke. She leaps out of bed and trots downstairs to tell me just one more thing. “Get upstairs,” I snap. Her face crumbles, and I don’t care.

She makes lunch for herself and her three-year-old sister. Two little brown bags are carefully packed with peanut butter sandwiches and juice boxes, ready for preschool. She has tried to write names on the outside of the bags in purple marker. I acknowledge her effort briefly, but I am so irritated with other things she has done, other ways I feel wronged, that I rush the moment.

As you probably know, Steven Curtis Chapman’s five-year old daughter was killed over the weekend. We all care so much, somehow. Even if we don’t listen to his music anymore, even if that “Cinderella” song hasn’t made us cry until today…we just care. And we, the church, are praying. And I am praying.

As I cleaned up Hannajean’s dishes from breakfast, I came to the leftover lunch fixins. Peanut butter, now-stale bread, and saran wrap litter my counter. I thought about Steven Curtis Chapman and his family and -

I started to cry. My anger towards Hannajean suddenly seemed so foul, so petty, and so pointless. I have the gift of this day with my five-year-old and I am wasting these moments because I am so wrapped up in myself.

She is a gift to me. My daughter is a gift. This day is to be savored with her. I want to embrace motherhood right now without constantly thinking about my own needs and wants. I can trust that God will show me what I need - but in the meantime, I have a little girl to love and hold today.

Well, since I have taken down my blogroll (due to the fact that I wanted to add about seventy-five blogs to it…hmm), I wanted to take a moment for some Linky Love!

Look, just choose ONE of these links and click, o-kay? Expand your world! Yeah!

BLOGS YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT:

My Pastor’s Blog - If you read my blog and know nothing about my church, go and check out Pastor Steven’s blog. He always has something thought-provoking to say. I love his blog - it makes me feel like I can get a glimpse into the heart of my pastor through the week. Go.

Cindy at Still His Girl - I love this woman. She continues to inspire me as a wife and a mom just by honestly sharing her life with us. She is funny, delightful, creative, and she loves Jesus. Go.

GREAT PLACES FOR ONLINE SHOPPING THAT I NEVER KNEW EXISTED UNTIL I STARTED BUYING “BACK TO TEACHING” CLOTHES:

zafu.com - Oh my gosh. This site is awesome. They ask you a ton of questions and help you find the perfect jeans. I felt so loved by the questions (I did. I am so weird). “Click on the picture the describes the normal hug of your jeans on your thighs.” CLICK. Ahhh. They showed me eleven different pairs of jeans - from a variety of designers and at a wide range of prices. Go.

Bluefly.com - I love this site. I wanted a nice bag and spent some time looking around at all their deals. Bluefly has a ton of designer stuff at way marked-down prices. Yes, I did buy a scarf! No, I don’t know how to tie it. Yes, I did receive a coupon for ten percent off my next Bluefly order with my scarf purchase (which arrived with a DHL bag for me to send the scarf back if I didn’t like it. Ooo!). Go.

SITES THAT MAKE ME BLESSED OR HAPPY:

Our Daily Bread - I used to mock Our Daily Bread as being too fluff. Um, since I am apparently ARROGANT, I didn’t read it until recently. Now, ironically, God will often speak to me through this simple online devotion. I read the scripture, then the devotion, and…ahh. A moment with God. Go.

Amazon.com - O-kay, everyone knows about amazon.com. But did you know that they are no longer out of stock on their new reading device…the amazing Kindle! It is seriously fun to check this out, I think, and dream of the day when all my books will be with me in my purse. I read through the titles, I read the reviews, I dream of Kindle. Go.

Tomorrow’s Post: Why Jess needs to be set free from arrogance and shopping.

To all who mourn in Israel,
he will give a crown of beauty for ashes,
a joyous blessing instead of mourning,
festive praise instead of despair.
In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks
that the Lord has planted for his own glory.
They will rebuild the ancient ruins,
repairing cities destroyed long ago.
They will revive them,
though they have been deserted for many generations…
Instead of shame and dishonor,
you will enjoy a double share of honor.
You will possess a double portion of prosperity in your land,
and everlasting joy will be yours.

-Isaiah 61

For the last seven years, I have been completely desperate for God. Morning after morning, I would get up and spend several hours praying and reading the Word. I would often spend my Saturday afternoons at a local church’s prayer room, where I would cry and praise and read the Bible for hours.

Desperate. Hungry. Broken. These words have defined me to the core. I did not develop a prayer life because I wanted to; I had to. I could not survive without Jesus. My emotions were so shattered from my past that I had to be infused with His Holy Spirit constantly in order to function.

There were times when I knew I could not open my mouth in the morning until I prayed. If I did, I would scream expletives at Hugh and stand shaking in the kitchen, trying to gain control.

“I have to pray,” I would mutter, turning from my again-wounded husband as I headed upstairs to my prayer chair.

I would beg for God to change me and slowly allow the Presence of God to come and fill me. Hour after hour I would hungrily read the Word, listening to God as He began to put my broken pieces back together.

“I’m sorry,” I would tell Hugh later, wondering why change was happening so slowly in my life.

These hours with God were amazing. Time after time, the Lord would speak so clearly as I let Him into every place in my heart. I memorized chapters of scripture, talked with God about my past, and spent time just sitting in His Presence, allowing the love of a Father to fill me.

Over the last two years, the broken pieces in my life are actually healing. God has been lovingly molding me and shaping me and I am beginning to be myself for the first time in my life.

Lately something has been happening that has been shaking me to the core. It is hard to write; a part of me hates it.

I am no longer spending hours in prayer.

This last season of my life, my time with God has been getting…gulp…shorter. Instead of hours at His feet, desperate to hear from Him, I wake up and spend a much shorter time with Him.

I read the Word. I write down one or two verses that are really speaking to me. I pray over my day. I repent for my wrong attitudes. I lift up my family and close friends. I spend some time listening. I may worship for a few minutes.

Then I am done.

This is radically different from the last seven years of my life. It’s so different that I have been worried that maybe I’m backsliding or developing a hard heart towards God. I have been so upset about it that I have not been able to even talk with Hugh about it until this weekend.

Crying. Sobbing. “I don’t know if I am walking away from God..”

Hugh and I talked through what my prayer time was like. Was I hearing God’s voice? Yes. Was I reading the Word? Yes. Was I making the choice to consistently spend time with the Lord even though the time was a lot shorter? Yes.

Hugh looked at me for a long time. Then his face broke into the most gentle smile as he said:

“Jess…I think you are healed, Sweetie. Instead of needing to spend hours and hours in prayer just to survive…now you are living.”

Healed? Really?

Oh, God, really?

I don’t know what this feels like. I don’t know what it is like to not be broken. I don’t know how to live my life with Jesus without being a complete mess.

And, yet, He has healed my mess. But does that mean He doesn’t want me to spend hours with Him anymore?

This morning I prayed about it. “Lord, show me. I want to know. I don’t know how to trust you…how to relate to you when I am not broken.”

His voice spoke quickly.

“You live your life praising me whole. Jess, I have a life for you to live…”

A husband to love with abandon. Children to go on walks with and watch “Elf” with at Christmas time while eating greasy popcorn. Friends to talk with. Meals to make while listening to great jazz music - things that once I could not imagine doing that are slowly becoming a part of my daily life. And those things take time, time that I did not have because I did not, and could not, leave my prayer chair.

My God has a life for me to live. And now, He is calling me out of this season of spending hour after desperate hour clinging to His feet, begging for the strength to get through the day.

And if I could trust Him then, when I had nothing, then I think I can trust Him now. His light has filled up my darkness, He has set my feet on a rock, and He has lifted up my head.

Now He wants me to live.