Trust Me in All Your Thoughts – Jesus Calling

I know that some of your thoughts are unconscious or semi-conscious, and I do not hold you responsible for those. But you can direct conscious thoughts much more than you may realize. Practice thinking in certain ways—trusting Me, thanking Me—and those thoughts become more natural. Reject negative or sinful thoughts as soon as you become aware of them. Don’t try to hide them from Me; confess them and leave them with Me. Go on your way lightheartedly. This method of controlling your thoughts will keep your mind in My Presence and your feet on the path of peace.

July 7, from Jesus Calling.

Sinuous Sometimes

…even friends never see the sly
sinuous of my sometimes smile
is the hardened curve
of an anvil’s edge—
upturned horn of beaten metal.

Jesus Calling, June 2

Relax in My healing, holy Presence. Be still, while I transform your heart and mind. Let go of cares and worries, so that you can receive My Peace. Cease striving, and know that I am God.

Do not be like the Pharisees who multiplied regulations, creating their own form of “godliness.” They got so wrapped up in their own rules that they lost sight of Me. Even today, man-made rules about how to live the Christian life enslave many people. Their focus is on their performance, rather than on me.

It is through knowing Me intimately that you become like Me. This requires spending time alone with Me. Let go, relax, be still, and know that I am God.

Unbelief

Mark 9:20-24
So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth. Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?” “From childhood,” he answered. “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” “‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.” Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

• Sometimes, I lack the faith to believe God can help me.
• Most days (sadly) I lack the belief that God wants to help me freely. I think He dangles benefits behind pitfalls—that each gift is a concession prize I must earn, or struggle for. I totally miss that His love is so great toward me that he desires the same things for me that I do—having made me in loving specificity.

That is my unbelief today.

From Jesus Calling (again)

Man I love this little book, the the way God speaks thru it.

May 21:
I, the Creator of the universe, am with you and for you. What more could you need.? When you feel some lack, it is because you are not connecting with Me at a deep level. I offer abundant Life; your part is to trust Me, refusing to worry about anything.

It is not so much adverse events that make you anxious as it is your thoughts about those events. Your mind engages in trying to take control of a situation, to bring about the result you desire. Your thoughts close in on the problem like ravenous wolves. Determined to make things go your way, you forget that I am in charge of your life. The only remedy is to switch your focus from the problem to My Presence. Stop all your striving, and watch to see what I will do. I am the Lord!

This Is The Thing

This Is The Thing that is rocking my world right now (the song, not the video). I can’t explain it—just is: over and over and over.

Until I saw the last episode of Lie To Me, I’d never heard of Fink before (glad I watch tv!).

Into The Night

Sorry, if this is redundant—I’m posting on both blogs. Just came across a band called the Motorhomes that’s no longer together. If my legacy was as good as this, I’d be okay with that. I’m in love with this song right now…added to fav list.

Into The Night by The Motorhomes

Let

One of my essential Christian Living books, Holy Sweat by Tim Hansel, continues to deliver again and again.

I was reminded of one of it’s little gems this last weekend in a conversation with a new believer who didn’t know how to do all the things he felt compelled to change and fix in his new life. It wasn’t a guilt feeling, but more of an overwhelming.

Hansel’s advice applies:

1. “Contrary to what you may have heard, we are not called to live for Christ, we are called to live in Christ…”

2. “…A brilliant New Testament scholar once asked a group of us what is the most important word in the New Testament. We all took stabs at it. Was it love? Faith? Hope? Sanctification? Grace? “No,” he said. “It’s the little word let. L-E-T.” Let Jesus Christ do his work in you. Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus… Let your peace return to you…Let your light shine before men… Let is a word of transforming faith, with encyclopedias of meaning poured into it. Let assumes the total love and power of the Creator. It assumes that heaven is crammed with good gifts the Father wants to give his children. The profoundly simple word let is the gate that opens to that power. It gives God permission to work his might in us. That’s the good news…”

When Two Strikes are Three Strikes

God speaks to me.

Mostly, He seems very concerned with the (other) people in my life. In fact, He frequently encourages me toward doing things for them. This might seem silly, that God would use the same voice He used to separate light and dark, make plants grow and man appear, just to tell me some little thing to do for another person. It may seem inappropriate, or irresponsible, to waste precious communication on little gestures, gifts, and encouragements given the systemic economic and moral unrest of our country. From my perspective, it’s the perfect use of His voice: He still cares about people and their needs; He’s still involved on a personal level in my (and their) lives; He has control of the universe—planets and seasons are still swimming in order—we are the ones out of our lanes.

Yet, I still test His voice—in fact, I rail against it at times. I like my world small and manageable. I don’t like others intruding into my tidy world and hence I hate intruding on others—doing so makes me feel awkward. I’ve found this to be a great test of whether God is truly speaking to me, by asking: am I being called to step out of my comfortable world in pursuit of someone with a need, or is this something I’d naturally do? The little heart palpitations and garden-hose flow of sweat on my brow only results from His call to step out, into awkward situations and assist someone else. My heart races and I sweat because I’m that shy, that disposed to my organized, air-conditioned life (without awkward moments) and because I don’t have a routine for new moments. Some people like adventures like these; I don’t.

So, it was with much chagrin that I walked into my apartment and immediately noticed a book I normally give out to friends (I already know) who need some spiritual encouragement. The reason for my chagrin was that I had just spoken with my neighbor, who was putting the finishing touches on cleaning her apartment before moving away. It was a last chance to communicate with someone I’ve spoken with exactly 5 times in a year of living next door to one another. I said my goodbye, unlocked my front door, entered, and my eye fell on my Jesus Calling book. I have four left.

And God spoke: Give one to her.

My immediate thought was that she would not want one, would not get anything from it. I’ve given this book to numerous friends who walk daily with God and they didn’t absolutely love it. Why would she? I reasoned. Walking past my bookshelf, I moved to get ready for my run. Getting dressed I played the back-and-forth argument in my head. I should give her a Bible if I’m going to donate a book. I should try to preface it with some statement that will make sense of the gift. I should be more eloquent than, “here.” I should plan this out. That, by the way, is always my defensible fortress for inactivity: planning.

By then, I was in my running gear and selecting my playlist. I actually grabbed a book off the shelf. Opening the door I could hear my neighbor arguing with her friend (who was helping her clean). I didn’t want to get (even more) involved. And, reasoning to myself, me standing in my workout clothes was way worse than before. I planned to give her a book once I got back. Strike One.

God spoke again: Give one to her.

I ignored His voice and walked downstairs thinking I’d give her the book when I got back. I ran fast, planning to hand her a book the instant I got thru the front door—I walked it out in my head, even.

Of course, once I returned all sweaty and flushed, I realized that handing a book while pouring (even more) sweat from my forehead really was the wrong direction. I needed to shower and be presentable, I figured. Passing her open front door (again) I grabbed a fast shower–thinking to give her the book once I was properly attired and adequately not flushed. Strike Two.

Once cooled and attired, book in hand, I opened my door to walk over and give her my gift. Her door was closed.

She was gone.

This experience must seem silly after my last post about caring and taking the time to affect others. I’m saddened by a) not simply following through and answering God’s voice and call (it shames me, actually) and b) that I missed doing something positive in her life through the simple act of communicating my care in the gift of a beloved book.

I found out today that I am still very weak, very timid, and very human. And even when God speaks I don’t respond as I would like. This is not how I want to be tomorrow.

The Cost of Caring

10 minutes into my run, random songs with fast tempos and heavy bass pumping adrenaline into my body via my ears, another sound catches my attention. Something from outside the earbuds crammed into my head.

“Josh… Josh… Josh!”

Looking over my shoulder I see Sandy Brown, grinning ear-to-ear and leaning out the window of his white Suburban. Without another thought I turn around, winding around some random apartment sign slammed into the dirt, to snake my way up to shake his hand. I’ve not seen Sandy in months, and an occasional phone call here and there just doesn’t go far enough down the road of keeping us even remotely caught up. Sandy is an amazing guy; someone I need to know better, hang around, learn from and eat his (freakin’ amazing) barbecued [anything]. He’s been going through rough times lately. More than just the loss of much of his business, a broken water heater flooded his home. And on, and on, and on. He’s one to never talk about himself, but I was insistent, truly wanting to hear how the fam was and that things were good. They were.

We talked. Briefly. Said appropriately parting words. He leaned back into the car and I spun back around and continued on. “Great exchange,” I thought to myself, “glad I stoppped to say hello.”

Smug with my own greatness, it only took me 10 more steps before the next thought staggered me: How am I going to finish this run under my time limit? My throbbing heart thudded to the floor.

I’ve made a commitment to myself: I have to run 3 miles, as often as I can, but always under 30 minutes. Totally doable; my average time has been 28 minutes–starting at 29 and lately being closer to 27. This is my 6th run in the last two weeks (thank you, Spring). Yet, after maybe 4 minutes of conversation with Sandy, I’m suddenly out of reasonable bounds. I wasn’t sure I could still do it.

Immediately I thought: “Well, talking with Sandy is more important than being under my time on that run. It was a priority. And nobody is watching (or even cares about) my run times. Barely even me, most days (unless it’s really good and close to 27 minutes). Immediately after that first Immediately I picked up the pace, choosing to defer my ultimate fatality to the clock and not my own incompetence or weakness of will.

And sure enough, the clock wasn’t friendly. Noting times at familiar places, I was 3 minutes behind a normal run schedule. Bigger steps. Faster pace. Stitch in the side, shallowness of breath. Gasp. I made the run, forcing myself to do it on time and under 30 minutes. But it hurt. A lot (still does in fact). There may be a payoff later down the road in having risen to the challenge, but that’s not why I did it.

The pointlessness of this daily moment is mitigated by the single thought that taking time to care for another always has a cost. Sometimes it’s a personal one, but not always. Sometimes it’s public, maybe even humiliating. The choice to not care is always there—to not stop, take a moment, to not reach out. In doing so things may not hurt as bad.

Still, I encourage you to take the time. Let it hurt. Live to the fullest.