Framing through Attitude…

Many things are a matter of perspective. Our point of view often frames our experience, though life would have us believe we are victims of circumstance. Regardless of what we have suffered or the hands we have been dealt, we always have a choice over our attitudes.

 

In one of my all-time favorite quotes, author and pastor Charles Swindoll states:

 

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company…a church….a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past…we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude…I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you…we are in charge of our attitudes.”

 

Kristene DiMarco of Bethel Worship has a song entitled, “I Am No Victim” in which she proclaims this:

 

“I am no victim, I live with a vision. I’m covered by the force of love, covered in my Savior’s blood.

I am no orphan, I’m not a poor man. The Kingdom’s now become my own, and with the King, I’ve found a home.”

 

Kristen continues by assuring us, “He’s not simple reviving, not simply restoring. Greater things have yet to come.”

 

How wonderful to believe that the best is yet to come. 

 

One of my favorite bands, The Head & The Heart, echoes this sentiment in their spellbinding song “Library Magic” with the hopeful cry:

 

“I can see the sunshine rays gleaming through the clear waters,

Telling me you gotta hop in for this chapter’s ride.

There will always be better days….”

“Feeding on Mystery: The Table Before Me…”

We all know it to be true…our lives can change in an instant, in a single breath. Some years crawl and plod on with seeming monotony, yet each day holds wonders untold. Then there are the days where something shifts. For better or worse, the unexpected comes. At times, among those surprises are the things we’ve long hoped and prayed for, revealing the unbelief that resided in our hearts all along. At others, unspoken fears are realized or loss we never imagined possible occurs. We must find ways to accept life’s ambiguity and mystery in order to find happiness and peace.

 

In her stunning book 1,000 Gifts, Ann Voskamp provides an eloquent exposition of the Hebrew word manna, meaning, “What is it?” As the Israelites exited their time of slavery in Egypt and began their desert journey to the Promised Land, God rained down manna bread from heaven to nourish them each day. Though plentiful, they couldn’t store it up—each family could gather only what it could eat in a day and must trust God’s provision would be there again the next day. Though delicious, this was to be their sustenance for forty years—meal after meal, day after day. Amazed at first by the miracle God faithfully performed on their behalf, the Israelites cried out in wonder, “What is it?” But as the days and years of wandering in a barren place wore on, their amazement soon turned to grumbling.

 

This is so true in my own life. At first, when God provides for me in the dry places, I’m inclined to see His hand and marvel at His goodness and might. As time goes by, however, my eyes are blinded to the countless ways He works on my behalf. Contentment soon changes to dissatisfaction. I grow tired of feeding on mystery and desire to simply understand the purpose of it all.

 

In Psalm 23:5, David writes, “He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” There’s never a shortage of enemies in life, though they come in many forms. The promise, however, is that there is always a table prepared for ME in His presence. I don’t expect or desire it to be filled with mystery, with provisions that are difficult to identify. But so it is. God asks me to take the bread He has given, that He has been broken in order to break with me, and to call it grace. And so I will.

 

The following verse of Psalm 23 states, “Surely goodness & mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Though unknown, though highly unpredictable…surely good things are in store. As Albert Einstein said, “There are two ways in which you can live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or you can live as if everything is a miracle.” 

***Photo Credits: lovedoes.org

“Thoughts of God…”-

Solomon tells us in Proverbs 23:7 that, “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.” The apostle Paul encourages us in Philippians 4:8 to think on whatever things are true and just and lovely and honorable. With hundreds, even thousands, of thoughts entering our minds each and every hour, these verses are among the greatest challenges offered to us, yet also numbered in the most vital to our well-being.

 

How easy it is to allow our thinking to become negative or fixated on difficult circumstances–how natural to let unforgiveness or bitterness creep in! If our minds focus on such things, however, our hearts and speech overflow. As the modern saying goes, “What we focus on, grows.” I have been guilty of focusing on my own circumstances and pain recently–perhaps always, and I have seen the poor fruit resulting.

 

Words from an old friend call to me, “Genuine faith does not look at itself–it looks at God. When I feel in pain, the enemy is trying to get me to look at myself and look away from my Healer. When I feel insecure, then the enemy is trying to get me to look at myself and will remind me of my failings. So instead of trying to have more faith, I will try to look to Christ–remembering all His perfection, faithfulness, and goodness…. And I am in Him.”

 

Right thinking is one of the only sure foundations for living but it seems a monumental task. So how do I get there? As my friend encourages, I must focus on my Healer instead of the challenges at my doorstep or the ache in my heart or the pain in my body. I’m often reminded of King Jehosaphat’s story in II Chronicles 23–even when the circumstances are insurmountable, gratitude, praise, and prayer are always my way out. Author and researcher Brené Brown finds that the simple daily practice of keeping a gratitude journal is one of the biggest factors in cultivating the wholehearted attitude of gratitude. Spending time in God’s Word and in worship daily mold us into the image of Christ. The little things we do every day really do make a huge difference in our overall health and happiness.

 

Yet I know that if it’s up to me, my thinking and attitudes will change by small degrees–I’m dependent on the Holy Spirit for deep heart and life transformation. Missionary Amy Carmichael wrote a beautiful poem entitled “Thoughts of God” that begins, “Think through me thoughts of God/ My Father quiet me/ Till in Thy holy presence hushed, I think Thy thoughts with Thee.” He waits for me to surrender in order to be changed, to turn my eyes continually upon Him, but regardless, one thing can never change…I am in Him.

***Photo credits to lovedoes.org

“DO IT AGAIN…”

Though my family didn’t move to Colorado until I turned eight, having lived here thirty years this year, I consider myself very much a Colorado girl. Filled with more Fourteeners than any other state, Colorado’s high desert tundra, crystal mountain lakes, majestic sunrises and sunsets, alpenglow, and mystical mountains have “filled up my senses” countless times.

 

I’ve often wondered what it is about mountains that’s so captivating. They’re definitely a solid, seemingly immovable presence. They remind us there’s something and someone greater than us, greater than the obstacles we face each day. They invite and beckon to adventure, exploration, and challenge. They call us to see new beauty and summit the heights. And yet, as solid and unchanging as the mountains seem, Jesus tell us we can move them. “…Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20, NIV).

 

There are a few seasons of life that have been marked journeys of faith for me, times when God called me to believe something that seemed virtually impossible at the time. It required a long wait, a lot of growth, and an attitude of expectancy as I navigated the valleys and summited the peaks. Sometimes, the hoped-for result came. Sometimes not. Most often, the answer looked quite different than I anticipated. But always, always, God proved Himself faithful, and the greatest reward came from His presence on the journey. In reality, it wasn’t my faith that moved mountains. My Father God worked on my behalf to move them for me as I depended on Him.

 

Several things have shifted in my circumstances lately, or burst, perhaps, is a better word. So now, here I am, once again in another season of absolute need, desperate for my God to move. As many times as God’s done the impossible and shown Himself strong in my life, still, it requires more faith for me to believe He’ll do it again. I continue to allow my fear to be bigger than my faith. But as song artist Rita Springer says, “I have to believe that He sees my darkness. I have to believe that He knows my pain…. For He said that He’s forever faithful. He said He’s forever true. He said He can move mountains. He can move my mountains; He can move your mountains too. I have to believe.” Faith simultaneously transforms us and sustains us. In Isaiah, hundreds of years before Jesus came, God assures us, “…I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. Your walls…are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16). What I face, He faces…He has engraved me on the palms of His hands. He has always been faithful…He will be again. “I believe Lord, help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).

 

There’s a song by Elevation Worship that’s been speaking to my heart, “DO IT AGAIN.” The lyrics state:

 

“Walking around these walls

I thought by now they’d fall

But You have never failed me yet

Waiting for change to come

Knowing the battle’s won

For You have never failed me yet

 

Your promise still stands

Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness

I’m still in Your hands

This is my confidence, You’ve never failed me yet

 

I know the night won’t last

Your Word will come to pass

My heart will sing Your praise again

Jesus, You’re still enough

Keep me within Your love

My heart will sing Your praise again

 

I’ve seen You move, come move the mountains

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again

You made a way, where there was no way

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again…”

 

Indeed. I have seen Him move mountains. And I do believe. I will see Him do it again. He has made a way where there was no way. Let’s believe we’ll see Him do it again.

Un Examen…

As a Spanish speaker, I’m very familiar with the term “un examen,” meaning an exam or test. Until recently, however, I was not familiar with the term “examen” as it was first practiced by the Ignatius of Loyola in the Fourteenth Century. The examen was a series of six questions the Jesuit priests used for reflection at the end of each day:

 

  • Where did I experience the most consolation today?
  • Where did I experience desolation?
  • What was the most life-giving encounter today?
  • What was not life-giving?
  • For what was I most grateful today?
  • For what was I least grateful?

 

I am struck by how deeply each of these questions resonates, but also by what a profound practice and ritual this is. In my own culture and life and time, it seems that I am always on the move. Like many, my to-do list is a mile long and I struggle to let go of many of the items on it each day, always pushing. In the end, I push because I feel good about myself when I have accomplished a lot, but is that truly a place of consolation, or one of desolation? A quote I read recently from Do Hyun Choe Sugi Master reflects the balance we all must find well: “Movement is what creates life. Stillness is what creates love. To be still and still moving…that is everything.”

 

So in this new year, as with every year, this is one of the intentions, “…to be still and still moving.” To do so, I must find a daily balance between joyfully completing the tasks that I must do, being with the people I love, and resting. First and foremost must come time to “Be still and know that [He] is God.” Carving out time for the type of reflection suggested by the examen would be a lovely conclusion. Max Lucado reminds us, “Next time a sunrise leaves you breathless or a sunset leaves you speechless, STOP…REMAIN THAT WAY. Say nothing as heaven whispers: ‘Do you like it? I did it just for you?’ “

“O Cross that Liftest Up My Head” (George Matheson)…

The final stanza to George Matheson’s hymn “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” makes clear the calling each follower of Christ is called to:

 

O Cross that liftest up my head

I do not ask to fly from thee

I lay in dust life’s glory dead

And from the ground there blossoms red

Life that shall ever be.

 

Our earthly lives can be full of blessing, and simultaneously, full of suffering, marked my wounds and scars we’ve received along the way. The apostle Peter speaks to this in I Peter 4:12: “My dear brothers, do not be surprised at the test you are suffering, as though something unusual was happening to you. Rather, rejoice that you are sharing in the suffering of Christ, so that you may be full of joy when His glory is revealed.”

 

We share in the suffering of Christ, who suffered all things for us, and we are promised joy as the end result. When Jesus returned to the disciples after the crucifixion and the apostle Thomas doubted his resurrected identity, Jesus told him to feel the wounds in his side and his hands. Jesus offered Thomas total transparency, knowing this apostle would one day be martyred for his efforts to share the gospel in modern day India.

 

As author Sheila Walsh states in her book It’s Okay Not to Be Okay: Moving Forward One Day At a Time:
“There is no image that displays the love of God more perfectly than the scars of Jesus. The scars tell God’s story. ‘That Sunday evening the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Suddenly, Jesus was standing there among them! ‘Peace be with you,’ he said. As he spoke, he showed them the wounds in his hands and his side. They were filled with joy when they saw the Lord!’ (John 20:19–20)

But before the joy, there was heartache and questions. Nothing made sense anymore.

We all know we’ll face challenges in life, but sometimes we’re hit by something that feels as if the enemy has won. That’s a frightening place to be. That must have been how the disciples felt that night.

But as the risen Christ held out His nail-pierced hands and wounded side to His friends, they were no longer marks of death, they were signs of victory: declaring that death was overcome by the blood of the Lamb. Christ wears those scars in heaven as glorious trophies of the battle He has won.

The only wound from this earth in eternity will be the scars of Christ (emphasis mine). If Christ has chosen to live eternally with His scars, why would we be ashamed to show ours?

I think that every time God the Father sees the pierced hands and feet of Christ, He sees you and me. The scars tell God’s love story.

The love of God invites us to bring our scars into the light. We don’t have to hide anymore. It really is okay not to be okay.

Our scars are proof that God heals.”

“There Is No There, There” (Shauna Niequist)-

The besetting sin in my life would definitely be perfectionism. I’m task-oriented, uber-organized, a performer, a big fan of structure, routine and predictability. I like my spaces, relationships, and life neat and tidy. So many things in the past have spun out of control. Somewhere along the line, I learned to cope by controlling the things I could in my physical environment or at least attempting to do so.

 

But control is always an illusion. Life rarely fits into neat and tidy compartments.  I’m learning, of course, but it’s such a struggle for me to let go. When I can do just that, when I can stay in the moment, each one is a gift. I love what Abraham Lincoln said: “Yesterday’s history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today is a gift…that’s why they call it the present.”

 

Shauna Niequist has an excellent study entitled Present Over Perfect. That, my friends, is the goal: I want to learn to be present where I’m called to be, in each real moment, not continuously striving for an elusive quality of perfection that might even be termed destructive. There’s a phrase I learned through that study that often comes to mind when I find myself in one of those manic obsessive-compulsive drives: “There is no there, there.” North-American culture, as well as many others, can be so performance and appearance oriented. It’s as if we’re all striving to reach a perfect place where we will someday arrive, to find a euphoric Zen state to dwell in. But does it exist this side of heaven?

 
Shauna also talks about learning to flee a life where she was frantically searching for a diamond necklace, when all the time, it hung around her neck. Aren’t we all…just…searching? “There is no there, there.” A diamond necklace DOES grace each one of our necks. It was placed there by our Father God. His Presence perfects us, makes our present moments all they should be. The only way to be present over perfect is to accept that in His perfection, He made us totally right, made everything alright. He accepted us as we are, made us His own, and gave us all we need. May we each find the grace to receive the gifts we’ve been given, to open our arms and receive the provision that perfects our present.

Strong Hands, New Eyes…

Oscar Wilde once said, “It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.” This truth often strikes me, for, on a daily basis, I am amazed by the beauty and kindness and inspirational perseverance around me. On an equally frequent level, I am confronted with woundedness, ugliness, and hypocrisy. To hold the tension of this world’s  “tainted glory” well takes great balance and skill. Whatever and whoever there may be in my own path, I am quick to judge, to praise or condemn, to choose a personal response that has the potential to fall on either end of the spectrum.

 

Whether in line at the post office or the supermarket, driving, walking in the beautiful mountain town where I live, or working, I cross paths with many I choose to ignore. How many do I encounter every day who are longing to be seen or heard or helped in some way? Most often, I choose to believe that my schedule is too busy, my hands are too small and weak. I allow my eyes to cloud over and my mind to wander back to its self-preoccupation.

 

But what if my small hands are strong enough to offer a drink to the thirsty? What if doing so is the water my own soul needs? As David Foster Wallace says in his graduation speech entitled “This Is Water,” “Sometimes the hardest and most important realities are often the hardest to talk about.” In the petty frustrations of day-to-day living with narrow-sighted vision, it is only in choosing to look around with compassion that we find our own paths enlarged.

 

Just as  Jesus did, we are called, “…to preach good news to the poor…to bind up the brokenhearted…to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1b-3a). God says that “…if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

 

Spanish-speaking artists Marcela Gándara and Jesus Adrian Romero have a beautiful song entitled “Dame Tus Ojos” (“Give Me Your Eyes”). In the song, they ask God, “Give me your eyes I want to see. Give me your words, I want to speak.” The song is a petition to be filled with the Spirit of God in every step. As we become Christ’s body and His church, may we literally be His hands and feet, see with His eyes, love with His heart.

***Photo Credits: Brainy Quote

Cracks…

There really isn’t a time in my life when I don’t remember actively walking with the Lord, so one would think that as I begin my thirty-seventh year, I would pretty much have this walk down. Wrong. There are so many days when I feel distant from my Father, so many times when I clearly see my sin and flaws realized in bad behavior. This worn vessel cracks and leaks in ways that make it appear less than ideal for useful service. I hurt those I love most and fall short of God’s glory and my own ambitions every day. At times I am the judgemental older brother, at others, I know myself to be as the wandering and rebellious prodigal son.

 

As RZIM A Slice of Infinity author Jill Carattini pointed out, there’s an easily glanced over phrase in the prodigal son story, “…the prodigal ‘came to himself’ and, at this, he decides to turn back to the father…. The son is one who wakes to health and life again, having been unconscious of his true condition. Standing in a foreign field hungry and alone, the son comes to something more than a good decision. He is waking to an identity he knew in part but never fully realized. He is remembering life in his father’s house again, though for the first time.”

 

How easy it is to lose sight of our identity when we wander away from our Father’s house. How easy it is to forget who God says I am. Lauren Daigle’s recent song, “You Say” beautifully affirms that He sees me cleansed, perfected, and redeemed. He provides acceptance and belonging. No matter what condition I’m in, I can always turn back to the open and waiting arms of my loving Father God.

 

This vessel may be cracked, but may it come to itself, may it come home, and may it be of use. As the apostle Paul said in II Corinthians 5:7-9, “7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

 

Canadian poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen also summed it up well in his song “Anthem,”:
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

It Is Well…

The past two years of my life have seen more change than the previous ten altogether. After a long waiting season, through an unexpected breaking process, God moved in both difficult and incredible ways. He asked me to release a teaching career that had been my passion and security in adulthood. He moved me back home and placed a man in my life to love and to marry. Then, the same month of our marriage, my husband’s mother was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. Within four months, she passed away. We left everything to come to Puerto Rico, see her before she passed, and manage her estate. Months later, we remain here, searching for a solution for a disabled family member she cared for.

 

The more answers we seek, the more doors close. One slight move on the board changes the whole game, perhaps for the rest of our lives. We pray for guidance, but the heavens remain silent. I believe my Father is attentively at work in ways I can’t see or understand. I trust His hand, but sometimes, the weight of the unknown feels like enough to press me into the ground and bury me there. In the midst of it all, I feel ushered into the eye of the storm where one call is certain, “Surrender.”

 

The earth quakes and the storms come, and yet…it is well with my soul. I’ve thought often of the old hymn of that title, written by Horatio Spafford after he lost his family in an ocean storm. “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.” Bethel Music artist Kristene DiMarco recently rewrote the song with words that pierce my soul. “So let my soul go and trust in Him. The waves and wind still know His name.”

 

It Is Well
Bethel Music (Written by Kristen DiMarco) 


Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well with me
And far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well
It is well
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name…