Pressing on Toward the Goal

Once upon a time in a race of life, there were thousands upon thousands of runners competing for a prize. The course was a mixed bag of highs and lows and twists and turns. Some miles were relatively flat and easy-going, while others were mountainous and rugged—filled with rough terrain and uneven footing. The playing field was a talented bunch, displaying a diverse set of strengths and weaknesses. While victory was within reach for each of these participants, so was defeat. The competitors’ responses to the challenges, distractions and hard knocks they met along the way would ultimately determine their outcome. The participants were from all walks and stages of life:

Running on Empty was full of promise and potential; he was gung-ho and over-zealous to conquer the world. He started out strong and seemed unstoppable. Unfortunately, this over-zealous trait ended up being his down fall. After saying yes one too many times, this one flitted from one activity to another, forgetting to refuel along the way. A people pleaser by nature, he made other people’s happiness his goal. Soon, too much over-commitment with little rest and a to-do list forever long resulted in burn-out. Running on Empty began losing his fire for obtaining the prize. Overcome by weakness and hopelessness, he sat down in the middle of the road and couldn’t go on.

Control Freak had the most proper and precise running form of all. This athlete worked harder than anyone else, determined to come out on top. He had a stellar training plan, with every minute of every hour of every day accounted for. Unfortunately, Control Freak was too scared to let go of his way of doing things. He was too afraid of taking chances and risking failure. Over time, the unknown challenges of the course and the constant ‘What-If’s’ that plagued his mind were simply too much. Worry overcame his mind to the point that it affected him physically, rending him only a mere shadow of what he could be.

Pinterest was the most lovely competitor of all. Sporting the best running gear around, Pinterest had it going on. All of the other competitors were quite impressed (and a bit envious) of his style and appearance. After all, he appeared perfect. Pinterest attempted to create a perfect, heavenly home in the here and now, not realizing his nearsightedness was forfeiting his right to the real thing. Pinterest got so cozy and caught up in beautifying the course that he lost interest in running for and obtaining the prize. He finally stopped running altogether, settling down in his darling home full of home-made delights.

Accolades was quite talented and showed great potential. So much so, that he was a crowd favorite and was reminded often of his greatness. But Accolades became too reliant upon the affirmation. He started running with his cell phone, recording every step he made on social media. He compared himself to others, measuring his worth based upon how many ‘Likes’ and ‘Comments’ he obtained. Accolades got so caught up in boasting in his present life and what other people thought about it that he lost sight of the prize. One day he took a wrong turn while texting about himself and never got back on course. He’s been distracted ever since.

Life of the Party was the runner all of the other participants wanted to hang with. He kept the course fun, fun and more fun. Life of the Party filled every inch of the route with good times and entertainment. Fantasy Football, Netflix, X-box, nightclubs, social gatherings, you name it. If it was entertaining, Life of the Party was all up in it. The party stops and leisure activities became so consuming that Life of the Party lost interest in moving on down the course towards the prize. When he pulled out of the race, several other participants who he’d influenced along the way followed suit.

Shame stood out tall and confident at the start line. He had great hope for a strong finish. But, he began running with a crowd that persuaded him to take paths he later regretted choosing. Even though he finally got back on course, he couldn’t shake the voices that screamed he was unworthy of the prize. Shame hung his head in guilt; feeling like an undeserved misfit, he limped along at a snail’s pace.

Embittered began with light feet and a skip to his step. Things seemed promising. But somewhere along the way, another participant tripped him up and caused him much grief. Rather than letting this go, Embittered held on to the hurt and let it fester into unforgiveness. Year after year, Embittered continued to harbor hurts from others, allowing them to weigh him down. Finally, the unforgiveness was so heavy he could no longer keep moving, nor did he have the desire to keep moving. Instead, he sat on the side of the road in his misery, hurling insults at the other participants as they ran by.

Running on Empty, Control Freak, Pinterest, Accolades, Life of the Party, Shame and Embittered—each one of these runners represent sin struggles. While each struggle is a little different, they all have one thing in common: they represent an emptiness in the human soul that wants desperately to be filled with something. I can definitely identify with every one of these runners, some of them more than others. Perhaps your sin struggle has a completely different name associated with it. Whatever it is in our lives, it entices us to move off the race path. It entices us to keep choosing wrong things over and over again, until one day we realize we are further off course then we ever meant to get.

Here’s the wonderful part of the story, though. This race isn’t over yet.   Every one of these runners can choose to get back on course—and so can you and I.

It begins with surrendering. Surrendering our struggles to the One who can heal our hurts and fill us up. What does this look like exactly? It’s as simple as talking to God about where you are failing, where you are messing up and where you are stuck. 1 John 1:9 tells us that ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’ We cannot change on our own—it requires asking for help from our Lord God ‘who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us’ (Eph. 3:20).

The next step is spending time with Him by studying His Word. This means making room for Him in our lives. Never in the history of mankind have we lived at a more distracting time then right now. We have more information and entertainment at our fingertips than we know how to handle. Setting aside a time ‘to be still and know that He is God’ is becoming more and more difficult in our noisy, techy world. But we must fight each and every day to make this happen if we are going to live in God’s strength and not our own.

Last, God’s Word tells us in 2 Cor. 12:9 that ‘His grace is sufficient for you, for His power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.’  Notice that the word ‘Grace’ includes ‘race’.  This is great news for Running on Empty, Control Freak, Pinterest, Accolades, Life of the Party, Shame and Embittered (as well as you and I)! They and we can get back in the race! They and we can ‘press on toward the goal to win the prize of Christ Jesus’! But not on our own accord. Human ability, left to itself, gets lost in the wilderness. Only God’s amazing grace will result in a worth while race. His power rests on us and through us when we humbly admit our weaknesses—it’s then that we will see His ability, not our own, raise us up and carry us over the finish line.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch like me,

I once was lost but now am found,

Was blind, but now, I see.

T'was Grace that taught...

my heart to fear.

And Grace, my fears relieved.

How precious did that Grace appear...

the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...

I have already come.

Tis Grace has brought me safe thus far...

and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me...

His word my hope secures.

He will my shield and portion be...

as long as life endures.

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus!” Phil. 3:14

This is Dedicated to the One I Love

Twenty-one years and one day ago on the most beautiful and magical Spring-like August day, I got to be Cinderella for the day and marry my Prince Charming.  I will never forget this day as long as I live.  From the hand-picked flowers in my bouquet, to riding off in a convertible to our reception, it was the most beautiful and picturesque of days.  The loveliest of lovely.

While this day may have felt like a fairy tale, the reality of marriage is anything but.  Sometimes I think we can get caught up in Facebook and Instagram fairytale-land that paints a picture of perfection and all things beautiful.  Newsflash:  Marriage isn't always lovely and starry-eyed.  In fact, many a day can go by where it's just NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Being married is actually hard work, with lots of sweat and tears.  But at the end of a hard day's work, there's the moment of sitting back and enjoying.  There's the feeling of satisfaction over what you've created or built.  You're invested because you've put in the time and sweat equity.   

Our former pastor once said of marriage: "It's a slow death."  Isn't that the truth?  If we want to have a great marriage, we have to be willing to give up our own agenda and wants.  We have to learn to compromise and do what's best for the team.  We have to learn to die to self and sometimes that process feels like two steps forward and three steps back. 

I'm so thankful to still be standing strong beside the man I married twenty-one years and one day ago.  But it's by grace alone.  Each and every day.  Sheer and utter grace.  Left to myself, that 'strong' in the sentence above becomes shaky at best.  God's grace infuses me with the power and ability to stand strong and hang on when I don't feel like it or don't have it in me.    

And maybe right about now I need to explain why I didn't post this yesterday on our Anniversary.  Because we were in a big fat fight and I didn't have anything nice to say, that's why.

So our 21st Anniversary might not have been our finest hour...

But today was 21 years and one day.  And between 21 years and one day, a lot happened.  I'm no longer shooting daggers at him and he's no longer giving me the silent treatment.  Yesterday was a hard work day, but today we're sitting back enjoying.  And maybe, just maybe, an Anniversary post the day after is a little more representative of marriage between two imperfect, messy people.  And maybe it's a great reminder that marriage is not about the wedding day or any one day in particular, but about a culmination of many.

21 years and one day.  For better or for worse.  And one day.  For richer or for poorer.  And one day.  In sickness and in health.  And one day.  Until death do us part.

And that right there is marriage, ya'll.  

The Struggle is Real

Have your circumstances and difficulties ever just seemed too big?  Overwhelming and too much to handle?  Are you ever just completely over it and ready to throw in the towel?  Does the weight on your shoulders just seem too burdensome?  Tired of working, tired of trying, tired of straining.  Just dog-gone tired?

You see, Eric and I have had a 'thorn in our side' for quite a while now.  One that's been around for several years, and probably isn't going to disappear anytime soon.  We all have them--these thorns.  They're sharp and they're painful.  Spend any amount of time living on this side of heaven and you're sure to experience being stuck by a thorn or two.  Whether a sickness, a financial issue or a relationship-problem, the struggle is real.

So, this is where I found myself Sunday afternoon.  Heavy-hearted.  Defeated.  Tired.  So, so tired.  Too tired to lift myself out of the muck of our circumstances.  Too tired, even, to cry out to the only One who can lift us onto higher ground.  I felt hopeless and stuck.

Lost.  Flailing.  But not too far gone to call a friend on SOS speed dial and ask for help.  She prayed earnestly and compassionately, necessitating a little CPR on my behalf.  As she claimed and lifted up Truth over my concerns, I was able to breathe a little easier for the time being.  That's one of the beautiful things about friends.  They step in and do, when we can't.

The prayers, they sustained me that afternoon.  Yet that burden--that millstone--still felt heavy-laden and massive.  

Such was me when I walked into the chapel at our church Sunday evening, arriving for Eric's deacon ordination.  Oh, you would not have known that I was crawling into that place with a boulder that felt like the size of Mount Everest between my shoulder blades.  I just looked like a regular 40-something mom, walking down the aisle with her three teenagers and two children in tow (who may or may not have had a slight attitude over the fact that they had to wear jeans).  

Why do we have to dress up???  Why couldn't we wear our sweats???  Why can't we stay in the gym and play basketball during the service???  

{{{Oh, if they only could realize that for most people, wearing jeans is not even dressing up!}}}

But back to my story.  

My heavy load may not have been evident to the naked eye.  Or seen by the on-lookers.  But there was One looking on that saw it more clearly than even myself.

One who knows what we need.  One who can furnish a fresh supply of oxygen when it's running low. 

The ordination began with music, followed by the testimonies of the two being ordained.  As my husband shared his/our sweet story, I remembered.  I remembered our grace-filled God, pulling us out of hell-bent lives.  Sometimes we just need to look back and recall, to be reminded of what we were saved from and how far we've come.  The simple act of remembering took my eyes off the temporary--the here and now--and placed them on the eternal.  As my vision shifted, that boulder between my blades got a few pounds lighter.  

Next, though, was most powerful of all.  After speaking for a few minutes about what it means to be a deacon, our pastor called Eric and I up to the center of the stage to sit in two chairs.  As we positioned ourselves, he called forward the current deacons of our church to pray over us.  I will never, ever forget the sight of those humble, strong men walking towards us.  Like warriors with their serving papers, marching to battle.  They gathered around, laid hands upon us, lifting up powerful, compelling prayers.  

While my circumstances didn't change, there surely was a great exchange.  Sturdy, 'weighty' prayers seized the load from my frail shoulders.  It was taken away and literally delivered to God, who is always ABLE, MORE THAN ABLE to carry that which is too heavy for us.

The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.  James 5:16

To many in that room, this was an ordinary, routine deacon ordination.

To one small, defeated and hopeless-feeling soul, it was so much more.  It was God reaching down and using the intercession of many to revive a tired spirit.  Life-giving words being lifted up on behalf of others for one who had temporarily run out of steam.  

'for I know that this will turn out for my deliverance through your prayers and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ'  Phil. 1:19

Let's face it.  The struggle is real.  It's a battle out there.  Sometimes we all need a little help.  A little encouraging nudge to keep on, keeping on.  A little God-boost to get us back up and going.  

Those prayers on Sunday--they were my boost.  The strength to enable me to not just stand, but to stand on the heights.  Intercessory prayer is no small thing.  How grateful I am for the perseverance and petition of faithful friends when I'm too weak to do it myself.  

It is God who arms me with strength

and keeps my way secure.

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;

He causes me to stand on the heights.

He trains my hands for battle;

My arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You make your saving help my shield, 

and your right hand sustains me; 

Your help has made me great. 

You provide a broad path for my feet, 

so that my ankles do not give way. 

Psalm 18:32-36 

What? Only One Word???!!!

I have a love affair with words.  I love them so much.  I love to read them.  I love to write them.  I love to think about them.  I love to study them.  And, of course, I love the new trend of decorating with them.  

I love stringing them together in a sentence, analyzing them, then moving things around until it flows just right.  The on-line Thesaurus is my best friend.  I visit it several times a week, hunting for just the right word.  

As you can imagine, Twitter and I have a hate/hate relationship.  I can't understand why you would EVER want to limit anyone's characters to only 140?  I used to try to work within these ever-constraining boundaries, but who wants to spend thirty minutes cutting out beautiful, flowy words???  I mean, where's the art in that?

My husband, on the other hand, thinks Twitter's the bomb-diggety.  Short and to the point.  Give me the information and let's move on, please.

Maybe that's why he was all up on creating a New Year's tradition last year that centered around picking one word.  Yes.  ONE word.  One, tiny, small, measly word.  Imagine Miss Wordy-Words angst when he announced that we must choose one--just ONE--to focus on for the whole entire year.  

Oh.  My.  Word.    

How in the world do I just choose ONE, for crying out loud?

So last year I think I may have mistaken my inability to choose just one as an inability to focus.  So guess what I chose?  Yes, you guessed it.  

FOCUS.

Once I chose it, I second guessed myself for several days, but because of all my back and forth indecisiveness, I finally determined that FOCUS must indeed be the right one because I clearly was having a hard time focusing.  Thus, I finally laid to rest whether or not it was the right word and came to peace with FOCUS.  And, I have to say, I made some great strides this year regarding focusing.  I can honestly say it was the right word for 2014.  

Fast forward to a few short weeks ago.  It's the 29th of December.  It's Sunday.  New Year's Day is approaching and I truly have no idea what my word is going to be for 2015.  At church that morning, the preacher's sermon was entitled 'One Word' and he talked about choosing a word for the year (Eric, did you put him up to this???).  He suggested jotting down some words that came to mind and start praying that God would help you narrow it down.  

Okay, I thought.  I'll do that.

I jotted down three or four.

I prayed.  I jotted down a few more.  I prayed some more.  

Over the next few days it seemed that, rather than zeroing in on one word, my list just kept growing.  Now I was up to ten.  

We weren't allowed to tell our word until the Big Word Reveal on New Year's Day.  It seemed every person in our family was walking around our house bragging about how they had their word.  I had one word envy.

My daughter must have noticed my duress.  She tried to help me out.  She explained that she had chosen three words and prayed about each one.  Her stomach kind of jumped right when she was praying about one of them, so that's the one she picked.  Did I need for her to pray over my words too and let me know which one her stomach jumped on?  (By the way, she has since changed her word.  So much for her stomach-jumping prophecy).

I decided to go for a run.  Running always gives me clarity, I thought.  Surely while I'm running, I will finally zero in on ONE of my words.  

My list grew to 17.

Discipline, Start, Joy, Others, Write, Uncomfortable, Serve, Love, Fight, Grit, Chillax, Breathe, Laugh, Intentional, Pray, Free, to name a few. 

By New Year's Eve, I was up to 21 and counting and I was starting to feel like a Duggar.  Time was running out and I was getting desperate.  I started showing everyone my list, begging for their input.  Both my teenagers and the counselor in our family told me they thought I should choose 'Chillax'.

'I would, but that's cheating.  That's clearly TWO words.'

Well, I didn't really say that.  Because WHO CARES IF IT'S TWO WORDS, FOR CRYING OUT-LOUD???!!!  I LIKE WORDS!

But I didn't take their advice and choose chillax.  Because I DO NOT have a problem with chillaxing.  

DO NOT.    

So, I guess you are wondering if I ever did finally choose my one word?  

Yes.  

Well, sort of.  

I chose one, but then it didn't feel quite complete.  It just felt a bit narrow and limiting.  It needed a boost.  Or two.  

So, I finally changed the rules a teeny, tiny bit and decided to go with Three Words for 2015.  I feel good about it.  They all kind of fit together and it feels complete:

  
Start.  Discipline.  Write. 

I want to start writing in 2015 and I'm going to have to be more disciplined in order for that to happen.  I am also not a very good starter.  I tend to procrastinate.  Once I get going I'm all in, but the starting is hard for me. 

So, there you go.  It was a tough go getting here but it was worth the fight.  

What word or words did you pick for 2015?