where else would i go?

faithful is our God:
he is Jehovah Jireh- my provider
he hears the cries of my heart.
he answers the prayers of his people.
he is compassionate and just.
he answers truly, without bent or flaw.
he will answer my cry,
as he sees best.
Lord, attune me to the sound of your voice,
your yes. your no.
let me hear your voice and rejoice,
when your timing is right.
until then, Jesus, and after, i will submit.

[the image is one i drew in my journal this morning, but have been reflecting on for a few months now]

the text [if you can't read it] says:

Where else would I go?
falling on my knees...
clinging to the edge of your robe-
all of my hopes, desires-
Jesus, bless me;
i have nowhere else to go.
if you say no, i'm still here:
where else would i go?
but i'm falling on my knees...
clinging to the edge of your robe...
begging:
Jesus, bless me.
you know these desires,
deepest of my heart...
bless me.
please.

Saying no to weak-sauce strength...

Through the open window, I can hear my neighbors watching "the price is right." This is their routine every morning... It's unreal to me...

I've been reading through John 1-4 these last few days, as preparation for Chapter Camp, and yesterday, John 4, Jesus' interactions with the Samaritan Woman really stuck out to me... Jesus has this bizarre interaction with the woman, in which she asks him a lot of really good questions, such as "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" (4:9). Or, "Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem." (4:20)

In other words, "Jesus, let's work through our racial and ethnic tensions of the last 500+ years. There's a lot of [doggie doo] there." or "Jesus, explain to me your theology of worship and the temple. Can you help straighten out our denominational differences and tell me who is right and who is wrong?"

Not bad questions. Great theological questions. But they're the wrong questions. And Jesus isn't buying any of her smoke screens. In the words of Alex Kirk, Jesus refuses to stay warm and fuzzy; he isn't willing to stay at a safe distance, allowing her to stay in her hidden, but comfortable, personal space.

He steps right into the awkward, getting personal, and asking precisely the one question that she needs to hear, but would really prefer not to answer:

He told her, "Go, call your husband and come back." "I have no husband," she replied. Jesus said to her, "You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true." (4:16-18)

In an instant, Jesus invades. He pushes in. He asks the questions that we don't want asked. He asks the questions we need to answer. And yes, that is not normally "nice" or "warm and fuzzy." But it is life transforming. Listen to the woman's simple testimony of faith, after her transforming experience with Jesus:

"Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Christ?" (4:29)

The fact that he pushes through, that he did not allow her to stay comfortable, that he invaded her personal space... that is what sparked her conversion moment. It is her testimony, as what is dark is brought to light, and Jesus in an instant offers her a chance to step into the light and become more whole in her brokenness than she has ever been in her hiding place.

So, I was sharing with 3-4 friends yesterday, in a couple different conversations, how I've realized that I'm not particularly good at sharing my processing with folks. I don't ask for help often, and when I do, I'm either (a) incredibly circuitous about it, hoping that my friends pick up on my casually dropped hints, or (b) already falling apart, unable to hide my need, and pretty much feeling like I've been pre-processed into menudo. I'm really good at appearing "put together" or "competent." (This is the weak-sauce portion of my strength.) I don't let people see the brokenness often, unless there is high trust and/or a divinely appointed moment. I, like the woman at the well, would prefer to ask great theological questions and leave the personal stuff at the door. [I'm sure this resonates with some of you].

But Jesus says, that's no way to live.

This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light... But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God." (John 3:19,21)

I think Jesus' rebuke and invitation to me is this... "Step into the light, Kristen. Do not hide any longer. As your brokenness is exposed, so too am I glorified even as you are made more whole."

So here's to the light and an attempt and transparency: I am emotionally constipated right now. I have not cried, really cried, in almost 2 months, and haven't been able to when I needed to. Not sure why. I am processing a lot of my fears, past, present, and future, and that's been hard. And a lot of things feel chaotic in my life; and I do not deal with chaos well. Simply put, I am a mess. Sorry to disappoint, for those of you who thought I had it all together... but, the truth is, weak-sauce strength, false put-togetherness, is no strength at all...

So, here's the invitation I gave my 3-4 friends yesterday:

Would you ask me good questions? Would you probe deeper? Would you not let me get away with weak-sauce strength? There might be times when I don't respond well, or when a given situation renders it appropriate for me to not answer a particular question, but ultimately, I need people to speak into those places of hiding, to invite greater wholeness in stepping into the light.

And my question for you is:

Are you willing to let Jesus ask the questions that you might not want to hear, but that ultimately bringing transformation and wholeness? are you willing to let your friends speak into those places for you? What would it look like for you, to step into the light?

I don't want to be weak sauce...

"You know, Kristen, you're a very strong woman."

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this phrase. And, to a certain degree, it's true. I am a strong woman. Headstrong, in many ways. Capable, in others. Independent, yes, although God's been working on that one. Pretty certain of who I am, my identity and the gifts that God has given me, yes, most of the time. And I'm inclined to believe, subjectively, that those strengths can be a good thing. Not always, or without fail, but they can be.

But, and let me just be really honest, more times than not, when those words have been spoken over me or to me, they have been followed or preceded by,

"You should probably tone that down a little." "That's not very feminine." "You need to need to be more _____(humble/quiet/submissive/womanly/etc)." or, my personal favorite, "You know, men don't really like strong women." And please don't mistake me, these are never words that are intended to be hurtful; they always come from a very sincere heart legitimately attempting to care for me well.

But often times, well-intentioned or not, my strength has felt like a curse, not a blessing.

And certainly, one of my areas of greatest weakness is my desire to be control. To know what's going on. To have voice or authority. To succeed. Arrogance. And I do struggle to trust others enough to depend on them, yes. Often times strength is just a masquerade to protect myself from being real. So yes, there are sinful and broken elements of me, that manifest themselves through the false-appearances of strength.

But at the same time, I think are really good things about the fact that I am a strong woman. I don't think I'm less feminine because I have a opinion, or because I can speak and lead well. I think discernment and boldness in speaking truth are good gifts, that are a blessing not a curse. And in many ways, I think strength calls out strength, and invites greater, deeper, stronger response from the men [and women] in my life. I am not ashamed of whom I am, strength included.

And please, make no mistake, there are many people in my life who have blessed that strength and identity, speaking truth over me, rebuking me, and calling me into greater holiness. And I am so grateful for them.

But here are some of the questions I'm wrestling with right now:

• What does it look like for me to be free and blessed to be all of who I am? To believe that my strength is a blessing, given by God, not a curse?
  
• What does it look like to allow God to shape that into greater holiness?
• Are there parts of my strength that are not holy that need to be winnowed and refined?
• Are there times in which I need to lay aside my abilities, in effect, lay aside my strength or "become less of who I am" for the sake of others? How do I know when/what those are?
• How do I lead from dependence on Jesus, not on personal abilities or strength? Yet at the same time, not neglect the good gifts that He has given?

I'm going to venture a guess at the answer, although I'm still in process even as I type this, but here goes my best guess:

Greatest strength comes from dependence on Jesus. In effect, then, greatest strength comes from greatest weakness or greatest recognition of need.

The places in which my strength comes from a dependence on Jesus, those are holy places. And not things to be ashamed of or to negate. Speaking truth with boldness, leadership, discernment, prayer, calling others into deeper places of faith, confidence in identity, I think there is a holiness there that comes from deep relationship with and dependence on God.

The places in which my strength is not holy... those come from places of self-assertion, self-protection, and, ultimately (big surprise), fear.

Punchline: true strength comes from dependence on God, freedom and certainty in our identities as his children. Weak-sauce strength comes from trying to define and protect ourselves based on our abilities and strengths. In effect, NOT trusting in Godfor our identity.

Certainly there are places of repentance for me (and for you) in that... but at the same time, I think there is an intrinsic blessing there as well:

To follow Jesus, does not mean that we need to be weak-sauce. To the contrary. Strength, in both men and women, can be a blessing when it is derived from and offered to Jesus. For me, that conclusion is breath-taking, eye-opening, worship-filled, and incredibly freeing.

I hope it is for you as well!

Buried Treasure

I love the fact that people think you cannot see them when they're in their cars. Today, I drove by a spry young thing gold-digging up a nostril. And we're talking serious excavation... Next car up, a wise old sage, graying at the temples, engaging in a very similar treasure hunt. Some things never change. Really, people?

I promise, serious post sometime soon... but for now:

Why do gorillas have such big nostrils?
... because they have really big fingers...

Fin.

I believe in the Resurrection (cont'd)

So, those of you who know me well know that I am not particularly gifted in horticulture. In fact, I tend to have a unique ability to kill plants quickly and relatively painlessly (at least for me; I have no idea what plant death feels like for the plant).

But, like the good farmers daughter that I am, I continue to try to grow things.

And this summer, that project has actually worked fairly well. I have a little back-porch garden, consisting of cayenne peppers, tomatoes, chamomile, lavender, parsley, and a few flowers. And surprise of all surprises, they have both survived and thrived. Apparently remembering to water things does wonders. Who knew?

At any rate, when I arrived back from my most recent three week travel stint, I discovered that these miracle plants (with the exception of the plant-that-never-dies) were pretty much done-in. (My roommates share my watering forgetfulness.) And so at the moment, I am in the process of pruning, watering, fertilizing, and attempting to salvage any whisper of life, prospects of which look pretty slim.

But as I was pruning my tomato plants today, cutting off dead leaves and branches, I was struck by the metaphor for us as well:

In order to bring new life to us sometimes Jesus has to cut off a lot of the dead stuff, even though we cling to it. In order to call out life, to restore to life, the grave clothes have got to go.

Yet, we cling to remnants of the old self, our grave clothes, because they make us feel less naked, more whole, and like there's "more there." They are stinky, nasty, dead, rotten, but oh they are comfortable. They hinder and prevent true growth, sucking our energy and our focus from real life. In the same way that dead branches on my tomato plants suck energy away from the life of the plant, so too our "grave-clothes" and places of death that we hold on to hinder us from experiencing real life.

Perhaps they are an unhealthy relationship, perhaps that's your sense of pride or the safety of fear (this is a big one for me); perhaps that's your shame at past failures or sense of perfectionism that will not let you accept grace; maybe that's any number of addictive defense mechanisms (pornography, alcohol, unhealthy obsession with body image, gossip, drugs, an unhealthy need to be needed); perhaps it's lies that you believe about yourself, or positions of comfort that you know God is calling you out of... I don't know what your grave-clothes are, but I do know this:

If we stay in the grave clothes, we will never fully experience the power of the resurrection.

I don't hold much hope for the restoration of life to my tomato plants: as aforementioned, I do not have a green thumb, nor the power of restoration. But I do hold a lot of hope for the restoration of life for YOU and for ME, that comes from cutting off the grave clothes.

The power of the resurrection changes everything.

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go." [john 11:43-44]

I believe in the Resurrection

So I just got back from our New England Regional Staff conference Wednesday night... among many topics, the primary theme was, "Do we believe that Jesus, that God, can raise the dead?"

Ministry, faith in Jesus, is costly. It appears ludicrous to our culture. It comes at great personal cost to all of us. It does not, in true form, earn you brownie points with anyone. And if Jesus is not who he says he is, then our culture is right: it is wasteful, ludicrous, and down-right dumb to believe in just another smart teacher.

But if Jesus can raise the dead, make life out of death, it is radically worthwhile to believe. If Jesus can raise the dead, bring new life to things that are dead and dying, then he is the only one who offers to true hope. If he is who he says he is, and does what he says he does, then to NOT believe in him is wasteful and ludicrous.

Resurrection power changes everything.

Wednesday night, when I got back from Regionals, I got a text from a friend, saying that their mom and mother-in-law of 8 weeks had just died of liver failure as a result of cancer. Minutes later, I got an email from another friend, saying that her mom had just received the "terminal count-down" notification. Her cancer was past treatment, after months of chemotherapy. Another friend, at age 23, after having an emergency spleenectomy is now in danger of total heart-failure as a result of an infection she contracted on an overseas project.

I categorically hate cancer, disease, death, dying, pain, suffering, etc. It makes me angry, because as I watch those I love suffer, hurt, cry out, I realize that there is something categorically broken in our world.

And I see that same brokenness, in different degrees, on my campus every day. Eating disorders, hatred, racism, unfair judgments, immoral economics, economy of "who-you-know" rather than hard-work ethics, sexual harassment and assault, abuse, hook-up culture, cheating, unforgiveness.

This whole disease thing? The whole brokenness thing? Not good. Not right. Not part of the original plan.

And I think it's actually okay to be angry. To hate death itself. To get angry about the fact that there is disease in the world. To hate brokenness in the world. I think there's actually some holiness there. But the question is... where do I go from there?

Cynicism says, that's the end of the story. It sucks. Live life for yourself while you can because death and brokenness are an inevitable conclusion.

Hope says, that's not the end of the story.

Resurrection power changes everything.

We believe in a God who brings new life with his breath.

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.' " [Ezekiel 37:4-6]

We believe in a God who has calls forth life from death.

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go." [John 11:43-44]

We believe in a God who triumphs over the power of evil, death, disease, brokenness. The imperishable who clothes us, not with our smelly grave clothes, but with his wholeness.

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." [1 Corinthians 15:54]

We believe in a God who has come to make all things new.

"Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" [Revelation 21:3-5]

• Resurrection says, death is not the end of the story. Disease and death and dying will one day cease.
• Resurrection says, these things which appear dead, hopeless, wasted, Jesus can redeem.
• Resurrection says, those areas of campus, areas of ministry which appear dead, Jesus can call out life there too.
• Resurrection says, these places of personal pain, fear, and death, Jesus offers hope that this is not the end of the story.
• Resurrection says, those areas of me which are dead and dying, Jesus can breathe life into.
• Resurrection says, the cost of following Jesus is worthwhile, because he offers hope for total restoration with power guaranteed by his own triumph over death.
  

Resurrection power changes everything.

The Sirens of Power

I was back in Richmond this past week for a couple days, and while I was there, I spent a little bit of time visiting my old haunting grounds at U of R. One of the things that I did was visit a lot of professors of mine, including those in the physics department.

For those of you who have not been privy to my academic history, I was one of those students who came in to college knowing exactly what I wanted to do: science policy diplomacy, specifically nuclear policy, specifically Eastern Europe. Studied nuclear physics and political science. Had my life in the hat. Forget the 5 year plan, I was working on the 60 year plan. And I was well on my way to the plan; I was good at what I did, was published, lauded, networked, and well-liked. And then God intervened, and I ended up in campus ministry instead [ask me about that story sometime]...

And I do not regret that decision. I have no doubts that this is where God has called me for this season in my life and I honestly love my job...

But there are moments in which the Sirens of power, fame, money, and prestige still call my name. This past week was one of those times.

This past week, when I sat down with my college physics advisor, he made a comment about, how, if I decided to come back to science policy, he would be glad to make a phone call for me, to connect me with a good job. And for just a moment, I allowed myself to day-dream as to what that could look like:

• Respect from my peers when I tell them what I do, rather than an awkward "well that's nice" and a quick change of the subject...
  
• Financial stability, even affluence, not having to raise my own support.
• An economy of merit-based success in which I CAN earn praise, fame, prestige, etc.
• An opportunity to "be someone" and have people notice and praise me.
  
• An opportunity to "make a difference" in ways that all my peers would applaud.

One phone call away.

The Sirens of power, fame, money and prestige can sing pretty sweetly. And not all the things that they say are innately wrong. There is nothing innately wrong with being the sciences; in fact, I think there is a huge need for the people of God to be in the hard sciences, particularly physics. And perhaps one day God will call me back there, I don't know. But here's the one thing I do know: the call of the Sirens is all about me and making me comfortable, feeling good about myself. And that is not the economy of the kingdom.

God is not a God who only calls us into thing that are hard; he delights to bless us, and often times calls us into things which fit us more perfectly than we could ever imagine. But he always calls us as a part of a bigger story than just us. The kingdom is always about what he's doing and not about how good we feel about ourselves or how comfortable we are. At the end of the day, it is not about me.

In the same way as Homer's Odysseus was tempted by the Sirens' call, so too, I am tempted by the promises of security, prestige, and money. But at the end of the day, I know that living just for myself is not what I was made for; there is something intrinsic in me that longs to be part of a bigger story, about something bigger than just me. And I have found that in following after Jesus, being about his Father, his Kingdom, and his economy, not my own. He is the only one capable of the restoration of all things, from the inside out; he is the only one who can call me into a place of change that really matters.

If he calls me back to the sciences, I will go. But to follow the Sirens, outside of the plan and call of God, is a shipwreck waiting to happen. And ultimately, the place he has called me, while not necessarily always comfortable or easy or luxurious, is the place in which I want to be. Being part of a bigger story is the only life worth having.

And this is where he has called me for now. :-)

Holiness in Homelessness

Driving back into Boston last night, gorgeous orange and purple sunset behind me, red blinking tail-lights ahead of me; the lights of a city that I love sprawling and twinkling ahead of me, 2500 miles of places that I love behind me; a present-tense life and wonderful friends ahead of me, history, stability, comfort, and questions of the future behind me; questions of the future ahead of me, ghosts of the past behind me; the contrasts could be endless... The splinching of my heart and life equally so.

They say that home is where the heart is... but mine seems to be in constant transit...

My friend Beck and I have this conversation fairly often actually, that home is hard concept to define for both of us. It is, fortunately or unfortunately, not geographically defined for either of us. I love Boston deeply, but even still, it does not have the sense of permanence associated with true home. For me, the two places that I feel most at home are in an airport and on campus at U of R, but beyond that, there are many many places that I could call home. And that state of being, while intrinsically a blessing because I can be equally at home anywhere, simultaneously means that I am equally a visitor everywhere. This is the sometimes painful tension that I live in. And the cry of my heart is: where is my home, God?

While I was in NC, my friend Krystal shared one thing that really stood out to me. She was talking about how God did not give the Levites (the Old Testament tribe of priests) a land of their own [Joshua 14:4]. Their homes were to be with the Tabernacle, cared for by the people of the land [origins of the tithe]. This echos then with the New Testament words of Jesus when he reminds his disciples that the Son of Man has no place to lay his head [Luke 9:58], the instructions of Jesus, when he sends his followers out to the towns "without bag or purse or sandals" but depending on the generosity of those they meet [Luke 10] and the parable of the Great Banquet [Luke 14:15-24] in which those with fields, oxen, and family miss the call and the poor, crippled, blind and lame are the ones who respond.

Perhaps I should be a little bit more clear?

I think there is an invitation here for us (for me) as ministers of the gospel to find holiness in homelessness.

In the same way that the Levites had no home, other than with the temple, I think there is a call for us to identify likewise. Rick Warren, bless his heart, gave Urbana 06 a great paradigm for our response to God's call: it cannot be conditional. It has to be wherever, whenever, whatever, God asks. We are not a people called to be bound to a land, a home, or our possessions. In the paraphrased wisdom of Brenda Salter McNeil [Urbana 06]: don't settle in Haran when God calls you to follow him to Canaan.

Our home is with God; our invitation is for the Kingdom, not for Comfortability.

Don't get me wrong: I long for a sense of "home" more than almost anything. This blog post comes from that place of deep yearning. And that yearning has not gone away in the 30 minutes it's taken me to write this post, nor will it in the subsequent 60+ years that I hope to live. But I do think that there is a greater invitation present, to find our true place of home in God not in a "send-the-mail-here" type of place. And I think that invitation is to both those of us who would self-identify as splinched, and those who have a clearly defined sense of "home."

• There is holiness in homelessness for the sake of the Kingdom.
• Don't settle in Haran when God calls you to Canaan.
• Our invitation is for the Kingdom, not for Comfortability.

So we live in the tension...

"For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." [Matthew 16:25]

Well, hey y'all!

So apparently I no longer have 20-20 vision. But, my right eye is more blind than the left, explaining my odd quirks and unbalanced walking patterns. Also means that I now wear reading glasses. Lord, help me, I'm getting old.

In other news, I'm still in the midst of my southern adventures, and so I thought perhaps it would be prudent to dedicate at least one post to my Southern observations. Also known as, "Toto, we're not in Massachusetts anymore." So with no further ado, here we go...

11. When driving, slow is best. Actually, scratch that, in general, slow is considered better.
10. Everyone and their cousin has either a pick-up truck or an SUV. Or two.
9. Lard, oil, and butter are staple ingredients in every food item.
8. You actually see bumper stickers which advocate for McCain-Palin 2008.
7. Y'all is used with reckless abandon. Y'all'all is used slightly less frequently, but still used.
6. When you walk into a house, the first question you are asked is "Are you hungry?"
5. Vegetarianism is relatively unheard of. Hunting for your own meat is fairly normal.
4. The TV show "Jackass" is considered reality TV.
3. One has to be careful not to hit deer, hedgehogs, rabbits, dogs, and possums when driving home late at night.
2. One occasionally sees a confederate flag flying.
1. The majority of the women my age are already married. Many of them already have children (plural).

Such is my heritage; and in it, there is great beauty as well as great brokenness. But I suppose that is the way it is with all cultures and all heritages. Potentially more reflections to follow...

But in the meantime, have a great night y'all.

... stand in the ruins (cont'd)

Along the lines of "the man eating tiger has got to go," today, my former IV trainer and friend Alex Kirk (incidentally, a very wise man) posted on life brought forth from death. I thought it was well put, so I thought I would share an excerpt with you. You can read the whole post here.

"...The dynamic of things dying and new things springing up brought me to this prayer: Lord, what in me needs to die so that something new might spring to life?

This, of course, is the Christian story. The hope that we proclaim is a messy hope. It is life that only comes on the other side of death.

Jesus goes to the cross, endures the shame, dies a brutal death, and then three days later is raised victoriously. The victory is the last and loudest word. But it only comes on the other side of the death.

As with Jesus, so it is with us. We live only as we die. We discover more and more life only as we willingly put things to death in us that are themselves death--the gangrenous, poisonous, corrosive activities and thoughts and beliefs that rob us of joy and life [...]

And it's scary. Because putting something to death hurts like hell--it's a real death, not a surface fix. So we run away from the very path that would offer us life because at least we know what we have--even if it's a poor substitute for a real life, at least it's a known quantity.

But the economy of the kingdom is that life comes from death. That's how the exchange works. We have Jesus as our brother and king who has led the way--he is not calling us to do anything that he himself has not done already."

In order to kill the weed, you must cut out the root. In order for new life to spring up, sometimes things in us have to die. And so we stand in the ruins, asking,

"Lord, what do you want to do? Where do you long to uproot and make new?"

Step into the chaos; Stand in the ruins

So friends, today is the day that you get a bit of raw, personal, and only partly processed stuff. If that doesn't sound like fun, then I would recommend (continuing) facebook stalking, purchasing random weird items on eBay, or you know, drinking a tall glass of a very tasty beverage instead...

"let's talk about fear..."

Damn it. [and I mean that entirely literally].

I wish that fear were not a topic with which I was familiar, but unfortunately, it is very much a part of my reality. I grew up with it. It's been in my family for years. It's been part of my OS as long as I can remember. I fight against it. Jesus has won, but sometimes I lose. And put me in a situation with chaos, and fear becomes a pretty big enemy. Control becomes my safety net because it allows me to hold fear at a safe distance, and avoid actually having to deal with it.

It's kind of like a zoo, holding a huge man-eating tiger. The fences keep you safe: they keep the tiger at bay. Control keeps you safe. But it doesn't deal with the fact that there's a man-eating tiger present. And fear is very much like a man-eating tiger... it eats you from the inside out. It holds you captive rather than sets you free. And it runs counter to what the kingdom is all about: "it is for freedom that Christ has set us free" (Gal 5:1).

Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of being revealed as a fraud. Those are some of my big ones...

And my guess is... if you think about it, you have places in which that fear rises up for you as well (some of you more than others): New situations. Wondering whether people like you. Financial stability. Family situations. Death. Heights. Public Speaking. Love. Small people or large woolly mammoths. You name it; we each have places in which fear becomes a dominant factor.

Let me just be categorically clear: (most) fear is not of God.

Now, there is such a thing as holy fear (or complete and total awe, reverence of an entirely holy God). And there is such a thing as healthy fear (hesitation to do stupid things, or reservations about jumping out of planes without a parachute). But 90% of the time, when we encounter fear in our lives, it is not holy or healthy. It is a fear that at root says, "God will not take care of me here; God will not provide for me here."

For me, that translates into, "Therefore, I need to take care of myself." I think my second sentence as a child was telling: "Me do it me's self." As long as I'm in control, fear stays under control. But, even though the tiger is caged, I find that all to often, I am the one who is bound.

Enter God in his grace and mercy.

For the last three years, God's invitation to me has been to relinquish control, to allow him to lead, to submit to him, to follow the Holy Spirit and to lay down my independent-self-protective walls, trusting him and trusting his people. He has been tearing down my walls, with the power of a wrecking ball and the delicacy of an architect.

But this last month, my sense is that God's invitation to me has been to "step into the chaos" and to "stand in the ruins" in the context of work, friendships, and family. In other words, to return to the places where fear reigns, sans protective walls, and let God do his thing. To return to the places long devastated in my life, and allow him to rebuild. And that is terrifying. Control, my favorite thing, is lost. And, as a result, I find myself facing the man-eating tiger. And I want nothing more than to cut and run, let's be honest. But I think, at the end of the day, God wants to deal with the tiger... Unhealthy, unholy fear has got to go.

I had a dream a few weeks ago, in which I saw a ginormous weed... in the dream, I kept trying to cut off the top of the weed, but it kept growing back. When I woke up, the phrase, "In order to kill the weed, you must cut out the root" was stuck in my head... weird as it is, I think there's some truth there:

God is not satisfied to just deal with the symptoms of our brokenness. He invites us to step into the chaos and stand in the ruins because He wants to rebuild not glaze over. He longs to cut out the root. And he longs to say to fear, "Get out of here scum-bag! You have no authority here anymore!"

For me, I'm still in process. I do not do chaos well. I don't like the ruins. But I chose to step forward because I believe that it is better to stand in the ruins with him, than to run and hide from them by myself. He is a God of restoration. I chose to step forward because I believe that it is better to step into the chaos with him than to try and battle it myself. He is a God of redemption, power, and authority. He wins. And I chose to step forward because the man-eating tiger has got to go...

That's me at the moment. But what are your ruins? Where is your chaos? Where does God long to do his work of restoration and redemption in your life?

"They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations." [isaiah 61:4]

"This is what the Lord says: you say about this place, 'It is a desolate waste, without men or animals.' Yet in the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted, inhabited by neither men nor animals, there will be heard once more the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those who bring thank offerings into the house of the Lord, saying "Give thanks to the Lord Almighty for the Lord is good; his love endures forever." [jeremiah 33:10-11]