Let’s Talk About Asking In Faith

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But let him ask (for wisdom) in faith without any doubting, for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea driven and tossed by the wind.  James 1:6

            Few Scriptures have been more misunderstood than this one. It’s been taken out of its context and turned faith into a force by which we try to secure the outcome we want. I see something I desire (perhaps something God has done beautifully for someone else), and decide that if I can summon enough faith, surely He will do the same for me. When nothing happens, I interrogate my faith. I chastise myself for wavering, stiffen my resolve, and try to believe harder. If I am surrounded by people who misunderstand this passage in the same way, they join me in my chorus. “You just need more faith.”

But James is talking about wisdom. The faith of verse six is not faith that God will give me whatever outcome I have imagined. It is faith in the character of God, the One who has promised to give wisdom when I ask for it.

To ask without doubting means that I refuse to let His silence frighten me into taking the reins. I’m not to ask God to lead me while quietly keeping one hand on the rudder, just in case He takes too long.

Human wisdom can be impressive. It can be intelligent, persuasive, and eloquent enough to fill auditoriums. But it is painfully limited. I can only interpret what I can see.  And I see through the narrow window of my own history, wounds, desires, fears, and beliefs. God sees what preceded this moment, what is hidden inside it, and what waits beyond it. He knows every consequence I cannot foresee, every intersection I do not yet know exists. He alone knows the rocks beneath my feet.  He knows if they will hold, and He knows where the ledge only looks secure.  I want God to answer my questions, but sometimes He begins by questioning me. I want to know where I am going but He wants to expose what I might carry there if He does not heal me first.

Give me the courage to believe Your promises more than I believe the pressure of this moment. Amen

What I Do With God’s Design

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““For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God?  If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”  Galatians 1:10

Encounters with God change a person forever.  We’re never the same again after being near Him, being loved, and hearing His voice.  He speaks, and it goes right through us to the deepest possible place.  And as wonderful as all of this is, it’s costly.  Because after deep inner work with God, I won’t want to return to my old ways of relating to people.

In sanctification, God speaks to what is broken.  In His presence, everything is turned upside down.  If I learned to survive by blending in, by becoming acceptable, when God heals me, He may ask me to lay down that old survival strategy. Sometimes it’s the part of us that was ridiculed, silenced, or misunderstood that becomes the place where God’s voice begs to speak with power.  We discover all the places we’ve been hiding because others didn’t like that ‘side’ of us.  We were called to be authentic.  And authenticity is not self-expression for its own sake.  It is obedience to who God says I am.

This feels costly, especially with people who have known me for years. Will I remain loyal to my old image or obedient to God’s design?  Will I let other people’s memory of me become my identity?  The Spirit of God wants to fan into flame what fear taught me to mute.  

Lord, give me the courage to be who You created. Not a lesser version.  Whatever you made is ‘good’.   Amen

Self-Pity Is An Inward Collapse

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Elijah replied, ‘I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.'”  I Kings 19:10

When I am physically suffering or emotionally threadbare, I am often tempted to reach for self-pity as if it were comfort. It feels familiar and promises to soothe the ache somehow.

But self-pity is a false comforter. The moment it takes hold, the lies begin to multiply. No one sees me. I am on my own. No one has ever borne what I am carrying. My world grows very small. My posture bends inward. I become closed to the people around me and, tragically, closed to the nearness of God. 

Elijah fell into it after a great spiritual battle, collapsing under the weight of exhaustion and insisting that he was the only one left. Jonah sank into it outside Nineveh, angry enough to die because God had been merciful in a way that offended him. Even the elder brother in the prodigal story stood outside the feast and nursed his resentment. In each case, God came near. He questioned. He fed. He reasoned. He invited them to step out of the cramped space of their own perspective and into the spacious, cleansing air of His.  That is what God always does. He does not indulge distorted thinking, but neither does He despise weakness. 

He wants to make sure we know there is an alternative to self-pity. It’s compassion.

Compassion turns me outward when self-pity curves me inward. Compassion humbles me enough to admit that I need help. It moves me to reach instead of retreat. I am called to let trusted people into my pain, to tell my story, to name my feelings without dramatizing them. I can, and should, confess my sin without hiding behind it.

I need a few safe people who know how to listen without flinching. They will help me re-enter the larger story where my pain is real but not center stage.  Compassion teaches me to come out of hiding and be held. Am I courageous enough?

Lord, when suffering tempts me to turn inward and make a home in self-pity, give me the humility to receive compassion. Amen

Feeling Isolated

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For you, brethren, became imitators of the churches of God in Christ Jesus that are in Judea, for you also endured the same sufferings at the hands of your own countrymen, even as they did from the Jews.  I Thess. 2:14

I love movies, especially those that capture the best of the human spirit. Long, drawn-out sagas are my favorite, though my husband, Ron, insists that watching grass grow is more exciting! I remain undeterred. Nonetheless, I am encouraged to see a few of the main characters work through their challenges and beat the odds.  Why?  Because it reminds me that I’m not alone.

That is why fellowship is so important. I’m not talking about idle chatter that too often happens around a pot-luck supper. This is a cheap substitute for what God had in mind.  I can call it ‘fellowship’ but I’m certain that every time I think I’m doing it, God winces and draws in His breath. Communion with other believers demands more of me. I must let others close enough to know what hurts, where faith is fractured, and what I am carrying that has become too heavy to carry alone.

Paul knew how to encourage the persecuted Thessalonians.  He reminded them that the Christians in Judea were also facing hardship.  They were not alone.  Hearing that, they were strengthened. Think about it ~ Sometimes knowing that someone else has survived the road you are walking also gives you courage to take another step.

This is one reason God’s family is so necessary. I eventually meet someone who knows something about my particular grief. Cancer. A hostile workplace. A wandering child. Betrayal. Spiritual abuse. We tell our stories and discover that shame loses some of its power when trials are brought into the light and carried together. 

Solomon said, “Two are better than one… If either of them falls, one can help the other up.” I would add something from my own experience. If one falls into unbelief, the other can remember God for them until they are able to remember Him again.

Like you, I have things weighing on my heart today. They feel personal and isolating. But I remember that I am not walking an untouched road.

Lord, help me be humble enough to let others carry me when I’m down and tender enough to carry them when their own faith fails . We are tangible evidence that You have not withdrawn Your presence. Amen

Abba ~ My Soft Place To Fall

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The name of the LORD is a fortified tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. Proverbs 18:10

When a child is scared at night, he runs to his parent’s room. When he is angry, he looks for them to hear what has upset him. When he is hurt, he expects a compassionate response.  But when he has no one to turn to, spiritual orphan-ness is formed.

In many ways, this was my story.  I learned that not many would emotionally be there for me.  I’d need to take care of myself.  It was terrifying to think of taking down the walls for anyone, even God.  But Abba’s voice  began to chip away at my fearful heart.  Knowing that Jesus turned to His Father for connection and comfort when no one was there for Him made an impact on me.  I understood that Abba’s arms were a soft place to fall and I could run into His name – for many reasons.

  • When life was chaotic and the stress was more than I could bear, I ran home to Abba. He calmed the beating of my heart until I could breathe normally again.
  • When my heart had been broken by unloving people, I ran home to Abba’s arms. He smoothed the ragged edges of disappointment and tempered my desire to withdraw from people.
  • When caring for others left me depleted, I ran home to Abba.  No matter how empty, He filled every crevice with the fullness of Himself.

There is absolutely nothing that can keep me from Abba’s invitation to run home. Always, in every situation imaginable, He is my soft place to fall.

Even when You don’t fix my circumstances, You stand behind the promises of Fatherhood.  Thank you!  Amen

Overcompensating

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For now, we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.  1 Corinthians 13:12

It is instinctive to overcorrect. If I was raised in an overly strict home and wounded by an iron hand, I may create a home with few boundaries. If I was raised in permissiveness and watched rebellion take its toll, I may parent with a heavy hand. Unprocessed pain has a way of swinging the pendulum to the opposite extreme.

The same principle holds true when God was misrepresented to me in my formative years. If I was taught that He was angry and unreasonable, I may grow up dismissing Him as Judge and Ruler in favor of a God who is only loving, only accepting, never confrontational. But overcorrection still distorts His face. As a child in His kingdom, I cannot afford to worship a God edited by my wounds.

Defining my past as God defines it is essential. When I allow Him to diagnose what happened, He drops a plumbline of truth through all my conclusions. I am the child of a Father who is perfectly whole. I do not need to flinch as He re-fathers me. I will discover Him to be loving and just, disciplinary and gentle, strong without being cruel, intimate without being unsafe. And as I know Him more truly, the distortions in my own parenting will begin to surface.

An imperfect upbringing isn’t the only catalyst that weaves distortions.  Satan devises schemes that build deception upon deception.  If he can get me to believe a lie about God, he knows that trust will erode.  I’ll accuse God of being too ‘one-way.’  This will wreak havoc on my parenting and in my relationship with my Heavenly Father. 

An imperfect upbringing is not the only thing that bends our view of God. Satan builds deception upon deception because he knows that one lie about God can slowly dismantle trust. Suspicion begins to shape both my relationship with Him and the way I relate to others. Every day, the Truth-teller comes after these lies. Why? Because lies wound the children He loves. And when those distortions spill into our own parenting, they wound the children we love.

Show me where I don’t yet know You.  Amen

Stepping Stones

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Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow.  Lead me by your truth and teach me,  for you are the God who saves me.  All day long I put my hope in you.  Psalm 25:4-5

A woman who takes the time to listen to and obey God’s voice is never stuck.  Every step she takes is leading somewhere. Everywhere she places her foot is strategic, even though she may be unaware of the significance.  Solomon said so.  “The upright one is on a path that makes up a highway.”

Satan’s urgent agenda for us as God’s children is to cause us to distrust God.  One of his biggest lies is the one that says, “This is a dead end.  You’re trapped.”  Oh, how well I know.  Everywhere I looked, I used to see traps instead of doorways.  I didn’t know that they were a mirage, a smokescreen.  If only someone had told me to call Satan’s bluff with a well-fashioned arrow of the word of God.

Now, two decades later, I’m on a soapbox to declare that each ‘trap’ was really a doorway into glory. I was delivered from my wordlessness when I decided to embrace the truth that God is never cornered. I chose to believe God over my own thoughts and I was freed to move again.  I began to see that every pro-active step I took by faith was profitable. There were invisible doorways I couldn’t see before.  Everywhere I placed my feet led me to another divine stepping-stone.

The best of life awaits us even in these difficult times if I define the ‘best’ as opportunities to showcase God’s glory. I intend, until Jesus returns, to become an spirited old lady who teaches others how to pray strategically, embrace the scriptures passionately, and love God wholeheartedly.  My dream is that God will anoint me to be a ‘pied piper’ who marches on the kingdom’s highway, calling out to others on the sidelines to step onto the path with me.   My once compromised faith-walk has become a banner-waving parade for the glory of God.

Show me today’s stepping stones.  Amen

When Silence Becomes Fear

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Now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant to your servants, that with all boldness they may speak your Word, by stretching forth your hand to heal, and that signs and wonders may be done by the same of the Holy Child Jesus.  And when they had prayed, the place was shaken, where they were assembled together; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and they spoke the Word of God with boldness.  Acts 4:29-31

The enemy has never been timid with deception. Why should the people of God be timid with the truth?

The apostles weren’t. Once filled with the Holy Spirit, self-consciousness lost its power over them. They spoke what they had seen and heard. They did not wait until they felt qualified, nor did they soften the gospel until it became acceptable to the culture around them. The Church was born under pressure, in hostility, spiritual resistance, and the threat of real persecution. Still, it flourished. Truth had found voices willing to carry it.

They have much to teach us. In a culture increasingly estranged from God, timidity can settle over us almost unnoticed. We edit ourselves before anyone else has the chance. We measure every word against the possibility of being misunderstood, rejected, or considered offensive. Eventually, fear does more than soften our witness, it silences it altogether.

God wants shalom in this part of us too. He is not trying to make us louder, argumentative, or careless with people’s hearts. He wants to heal the fear that governs our voices. Holy boldness is the freedom to speak when obedience requires it, while leaving the consequences with Him. I can be gentle without becoming vague. I can be loving without hiding what is true. I can risk being misunderstood without allowing another person’s reaction to become my master.

This is an hour for holy boldness. The hand of God is heavy upon us with conferred spiritual authority. But our voices don’t need to shout to communicate. Truth may also fall as a whisper to pierce the darkness. God’s Word knows how to find fallow ground. It uncovers what has been buried, confronts what has been falsely named, and awakens places in a soul that have gone numb.

Perhaps the deeper question is not whether I know enough to speak, but whether fear has become more persuasive to me than the Spirit. I do not want to reach the end of my life carrying truths I was too afraid to give away.

Lord, take the tremor out of the places where fear has owned my voice. Amen

Jehovah Rohi

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If someone asked me to name three shepherds in my circle of acquaintances, I couldn’t.  They aren’t prevalent in our western culture.  That wasn’t the case in biblical times.  The Patriarchs were all shepherds, as was Abel, Moses, David, and even Rachel. 

Although I’ve romanticized ancient shepherds who tended sheep, shepherds weren’t highly regarded.  They were rough characters, even dangerous. They often had to fight for rights to water sources and pastures for their sheep.  They had to contend with wild animals who would prey on their flock.  If you encountered a shepherd while walking in the countryside, it could be a perilous encounter.  

Yet, there is an irony.  King Hammurabi of Babylon called himself a shepherd.  And in Homer’s writing, Greek chiefs were called ‘shepherds of the people.’ The royal scepter was a shepherd’s rod that symbolized protection, power, and authority. And in Egypt, the shepherd’s crook was a divine symbol of kingship.

God asked this question through the mouth of Jeremiah. Who is like me and who can challenge me? And what shepherd can stand against me?”  Jeremiah 49:19  

In this passage, God had announced impending judgment on Edom, an evil people known for their hostility toward Israel. He warned that He was a lion who would attack their sheepfold.  His blow would be ferocious in the coming invasion.  Edom’s leaders would be helpless shepherds, too weak to protect their people.  

So, my perception of a shepherd has broadened.  There are definitely two sides to them.  They are tender, willing to lay down their lives for their sheep.  But they are formidable, willing to kill to protect them.  

El Rohi is our gentle shepherd who provides for all our needs.  That brings comfort.  

El Rohi is also our protector.  That brings security as we understand that divine justice will always prevail against our adversaries.   

Oh Shepherd, You saved me from wolves to make me yours. Now, with Your staff, care for me and protect me until I’m safely home.  Amen

We Wrestle With The Healer

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If you listen carefully to the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, who heals you.  Exodus 15:26

God has made many promises about healing, but this is still one of the places where faith is tested most deeply. Sometimes Jehovah Rapha heals when we cry out. Other times, after long seasons of prayer and fasting, He does not. That silence can create a private disappointment we barely know how to name. We may even feel the need to defend God after publicly declaring that He would heal us, while our own hearts are still carrying unanswered questions.

Jesus varied His methods of healing. Once He used spit, another time a touch, and in John 9, He made mud and sent a blind man to wash in the pool of Siloam. Perhaps the variety had a purpose. Jesus would not allow a method to become the source. If every blind man had been sent to Siloam, people might have chased the pool instead of the Christ. The power was never in the mud or the water. The power was in Him.

Perhaps you are striving for your miracle. You pray more, read more, fast more, searching for the hidden key that will finally make God move. But if healing depended upon finding the right formula, then eventually our testimony would become, “When I did this, God responded.” The glory would quietly shift from His mercy to our method.

Even now, some are being healed and will walk out of ICU. Others are being sustained while they wait. Their confidence rests in something larger than their pain. They know that God will make all things new. Every disease will end. And, Paradise will be restored.

Sometimes we taste heaven now in a miracle. Other times, healing is deferred, and we are given grace to live in the ‘not yet’. We ask Abba hard questions. We grieve. We wrestle. But we can tell Him the truth without raising a fist.

Jehovah Rapha, keep me from mistaking delay for absence or mystery for indifference. Amen