What if God DOES give us more than we can handle?

What do you say when your friend gets arrested for accidentally forgetting the item at the bottom of his cart before he walks out the door? What words can you possibly find for the friend awash in grief because her grown up sister suddenly drowned last week in a creek?  How do you answer the why in their tired eyes when a couple sits across from you at your kitchen table, describing how a house fire destroyed their home that morning?

And in case you're wondering--yes, all of those things happened last month to people I love. 

September was rough. 

When the lives of people around us are messy, when the pain they feel is bigger or different from any we've ever walked through, we get scared. It's uncomfortable, right? So we want to fix it, to say a magic word that will suddenly make it all better. Maybe we just want to be the hero.

Whatever the reason, if you feel the urge to tell them, "God won't give you more than you can handle"...just don't. 

The first reason is that it's simply not true. God DOES give us more than we can handle.

We know this from personal experience. Anyone who has ever had an EBD (emotional breakdown) knows that there are days we just. Can't. Deal. Life is chock-full of stress, and it only increases as we grow into our adult lives and accumulate more responsibilities.

But stress or tragedy in the lives of people who follow God is nothing new. What about Joseph, trafficked into slavery by his own brothers? What about Job, who lost his wealth and his kids all in one horrible day? What about Moses, terribly insecure and shaking in his bare feet when God told him to lead millions of people out of a country where they'd been slaves for 400 years? All of them were handed far more than they could handle.

Telling someone that they'll never be given more than they can handle feeds several lies:

1. It sets up an unrealistic expectation that life will be relatively easy for those with faith.

This sounds great, and is a key part of the Prosperity Theology preached by many. However, it is the complete opposite of what Jesus actually told his disciples to expect. Jesus said that "in this life you will have trouble" (John 16:33). He also declares that "if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me" (Mark 8:34).

 Faith in God does not guarantee an easy life. In fact, the sheer number of verses calling believers to self-sacrifice, suffering, and endurance indicate the opposite.

2. If you do find yourself falling apart, it must be because you don't believe strongly enough that you have what it takes. 

This is such a terrible lie, straight from Hell. Not only does it further isolate the person, it also piles a heap of guilt on an already painful situation.

There is definitely a Biblical call to stand firm on the promises of God. But did Jesus promise an easy life? Did he promise that you would never have a meltdown or feel depressed? We must be careful that the promises we are claiming are actually from the Lord. (See point number 1.)



One of the reasons that folk theology takes root and gains popular acceptance is because it sounds so much like the truth. Telling someone that God won't give them more than they can handle is almost  a true statement.

However, the truth is that God will never give you more than His grace is sufficient for.

The Apostle Paul had a struggle that seemed to crush him. Three times he pleaded with God to take it away, but each time God said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Not only did God promise to give grace that is enough for all I need, he even seems to say that the best circumstance through which to display His power is our weakness. What kind of crazy, backward display of power is this? But that is the mystery of the majesty of our God.

The truth is that God never intended you to handle it alone. 

Our loving Father wants us to rely on Him, and not on ourselves. Our natural normal state is not independence, as if God wanted us to eventually remove the training wheels of His love and grace. Our natural, normal state is deep, constant dependence on Him for every need, every moment.

Our natural state is also community. Even about Adam, a sinless man in a perfect, pre-curse world, God said, "it is not good for man to be alone." (Genesis 2:18)

I firmly believe that one of God's primary and most tangible expressions of grace to believers is other believers. When we, as the Body of Christ, are all built up into the unity of the Spirit, we share one member's pain as our own. We bear one another's burdens.

The truth is that God loves us so much that he is even willing to allow painful circumstances in our lives to bring about this intimacy with Himself and within his Body. 

This is a delicate topic. I was so nervous to bring it up that I almost skipped it entirely.

I realize that it would be completely arrogant for me to look at anyone's pain and assume that I know the reason God allowed it. When God allows cancer, or sexual abuse, or a house fire, or a machete massacre in a Nigerian village, I have no words.

And friend, I don't know the "why" behind your story of loss.

But I know that the ultimate good for humans--the absolute best thing that can ever happen to us--is to know God. To see Him for who He is, to experience His greatness and love, to become intimate friends with the Creator who call us His own--this is the best, most joyful thing.

Your loving Father might allow pain and loss in order to bring you into the deep intimacy with Himself and his Church that is your ultimate good.

Paul described this experience in his own life like this:

8 We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters,[a] about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. 9 Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God,who raises the dead. (2 Corinthians 1:8-9)

I firmly believe that there is no evil or pain that God cannot redeem for our good and His glory.

After all, the brutal murder of an innocent man named Jesus was the way God chose to bring salvation to the world. 

Five Minute Friday:: Filled to Pour Out

The sun is setting on the first half of the weekend, and I feel so thankful for the nearness of Jesus even in the craziness and emotion of this past week. 

My husband's laptop screen forms a glowing A-shape with mine in the middle of our tiny coffeshop table. I'm so glad that he and I are both feeling better. He has been battling a bacterial infection for the past two months and is nearing the end of an intense round of antibiotics. Funny thing about antibiotics is that they can weaken your immunity. He caught a nasty cold, and then of course I caught it from him, but today we both seem to have more energy. Thank you, God! 

Aside from feeling sick physically, my heart has been sickened this week by the horrific images in the news. It is only now, after I have brought the gut-wrenching sorrow to the feet of Jesus, that I begin to feel some relief. 

Today I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday crew again, but this time is special because it's the FIRST time that the party is hosted by Kate Motaung. The concept is still the same: the hostess issues a one-word prompt late on Thursday night and we all free-write on that theme for five minutes. No editing, no over-thinking, and no perfectionizing. (Yes, I just invented that word.)

We all post our links here on her blog and leave some comment encouragement for the writer who posted before us. 

{Fill}

He fills my cup.

Jesus sat at a well and told a dry, man-weary woman that he would give her water that would never run dry. His water would become a living stream of water flowing from inside.

I love this part. My dryness is splashed over and my emptiness filled to satisfaction.

But like a long, hot shower, I can marinate in this overflow and forget that I am filled to pour out.

This week and last week and the week before, my eyes have filled at the news of an arid land dripping with the blood of families. When seven year olds are forced to wed, when fathers are made to watch their little ones slaughtered and their spouses taken, the world’s ragged thirst for the Healer is glaring from the screens of our computers.

We are to fill the cups of the thirsty, and Jesus promises that He will count it as a personal gift to Him.

http://smithsk.blogspot.com/

We are to fill up in ourselves what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ, standing with and for our family, His Body.

http://tinyurl.com/ktm5gex

And before and during and after each physical need and literal cup filled, we are to fill that beautiful basin in His presence with our prayers.

May they burn and rise as a sweet aroma day and night. 

__________________________________________________

If you haven't had the chance to read much about the recent events in Iraq, here is an article written only two days ago that summarizes the intense persecution against Christians by the militant Islamic group, ISIS. 

If you want a reliable source of news about our persecuted family around the world, please visit Voice of the Martyrs and subscribe to their email newsletters. 

Read enough and want to do something practical?

To provide aid for families fleeing the violence, click here or here. 

To petition Congress to take notice of the plight of Iraqi Christians and allocate aid, click here. 

To move Heaven, let's all get on our knees. 

"What is the price of two sparrows--one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing about it." --Matthew 10:28

Five Minute Friday :: Finish

It is Monday, but I sit on the floor in my sister's room, a hundred miles away from my office.

The prompt this week is finish. In the grief and mingled joy of the past few days, the word sits at home in my heart. 

For Lisa-Jo, the wonderful mommy blogger who has hosted this link up for over 5 years, the word signals the passing of the baton. She wrote so beautifully this week about finishing your piece of a story. A story that was never yours to begin with because all stories are inherited and gifted to you for a time. She is passing the baton to her dear friend, Kate Motaung, who I am excited to read and come to know as I have come to love Lisa-Jo.

FINISH

I get glimpses of the truth when the baby I just held is suddenly in pre-school, or when I wonder how college could be behind me already. 

Life is short, but most of my hours slip past unnoticed-- a given rather than a gift. 

On Thursday my phone buzzed for the second time against my leg. I was sitting in a friend’s living room, surrounded by my homegroup as we worshipped to the strumming of a guitar.

I stepped out into the humidity to answer the call and my heart stood still at Dad’s words.

“Cherise, your uncle passed away today in his sleep.”

My tears flowed warm, steadily wetting my husband’s shirt as he held me. I cried for my uncle. I cried for us. I especially cried for my sweet aunt and two cousins who will now have to live without their dad. He was a fixture of our family, a constant in my memories of Christmases and dinners and reunions.

He was sixty years young.

Life is short. It’s easy to assume that the trajectory we are riding will continue, that we have time to make that phone call, forgive that friend, learn contentment, finally do that thing.

But the finish line could be closer than we dreamed. 

Five Minute Friday::Broken

A Christan radio station recently made an Easter comment that resonated with me. They said that Easter was about breaking: a broken world, a broken Body that redeemed us, and a broken curtain that used to separate us from a Holy God. (Ok, torn, but I guess that's what we call broken fabric.)

I feel broken. In many ways I am a person who needs fixing, like a broken lamp, shattered by anger or careless mistakes. 

I am also emotionally broken when I see the brokenness it took to fix me. And right now, on the Saturday between sacrifice and victory, I feel a kinship with the heart-rending brokenness his followers must have felt as they sat, fearful, their dreams shattered the day after He died. 

They waited, broken. But isn't waiting the thing to do in our brokenness? To wait on the One who heals?


Want to join or just want to know what Five Minute Friday is all about? Head over to Lisa Jo's blog and find out :) And while you're there, be sure to visit & leave some comment love for the other bloggers who linked up! 

Balloons over the Rockies

What weighs you down? 

So many things settle with undue weight into the corners of our hearts, puncturing our tank of joy and contentment with devastating precision: 

Worries about our families

Fears of an unknown, uncontrollable future

Hurts from words spoken years ago

Hurts from words that might have healed, but went unspoken

Secret shame

Insecurities that taunt us from the mirror or our GPA

Tight finances

In the desert with a complaining group of nomads, God used symbolism to seal the significance of deep truth in their hearts. Physical rituals like washing, celebrating, and sacrificing made unseen promises tangible, concrete, and less easily forgotten. 

So my life group leader got a great idea. 

We would write out the worries, fears, hurts, shames and insecurities in a letter to Jesus. Then, we would attach them to helium globes and literally release them to Him from a mountain top. 

When we found that our letters were too heavy for our little balloons, we took a marker and improvised. :)

We shared our burdens, gave them to Him as a group. As we let the plastic ribbons slip from our hands, we felt weightless in the freedom of surrender. 

We are spiritual beings, but we are also physical. These two aspects of our nature are so enmeshed that we cannot be wholly well if one is broken. Doctors and psychologists and ministers have long known that cheerful patients heal faster and that depression increases the risk of all kinds of life-threatening diseases. When we physically lift the edges of our mouths there is a corresponding glimmer of joy in our hearts. When we physically place our hands over our breast pockets and sing, we feel a soulful camaraderie with a nation of others doing the same. 

All that to say, I personally need physical reminders of spiritual truths. I need to kneel--it humbles me. I need to sing out--it reminds my heart of the reasons for singing. 

And sometimes I need to literally release my burdens to the Lord in a balloon. 

"Brain Child" and Transitions

 My paper-as-pregnancy analogy almost got a baby rumor started on Facebook this weekend when I posted this as my status:

“I feel like I just gave birth! My paper...this ginormous brain child...is finally all out on the page (ok, all 18 pages). Momma needs to sleep for a week.”

One of my overseas friends (who speaks Romanian as her first language) thought that I was talking about a REAL baby. Apparently the Americanism “brain child” doesn’t translate clearly.

Right now, the only school-related thing standing between me and graduation is my Spanish final exam. I wish I could say it will be a breeze, but my mind gets so turned around when confronted by the minute differences between the zillion verb conjugations ….  So it’s safe to say I have one more heavy day of study before I’m in the clear. I know that God will give me strength to persevere!

“Skillful Navigation of Transitions”

As I recovered from the sleepless night on Thursday, I was reading friend’s blogs (what else do you do when sleep-deprived, right?) and I came across a post by my Uncle Dave.

Aside: This particular uncle is like a walking, balding skyscraper chock-full of wisdom, witticisms and puns. He is the pastor of a large church in Houston, and granddad to five. He is also an excellent writer. In this case, he was sharing his thoughts on a book called Transitions by William Bridges. Ok, on to the article.

In it, he writes about something that all of us have experienced: losing something we didn’t want to lose.

It may be severe—like losing a parent. 

It may be mild—like getting a stubborn stain on a favorite T-shirt. 

But in every case, there are three stages:

1)    Death—this is when “something ends.” It may be a literal death, or simply the end of a loved season of life, a job, etc.

2)    Chaos and Confusion—the emotions we feel in the aftermath, like confusion, anger, sadness and anxiety because we don’t see a solution in sight.

3)    Rebirth—In this stage, the void we felt is now filled, even if the precious thing or person we lost can never be exactly replaced. We no longer feel confusion, and the grief has faded into acceptance or even beauty.

This resonated with me, because it gave a name to my recent emotions about friends, and about graduation. As friends move away, something ends, even if the friendship lives on in facebook chats and blogs. As I graduate, something ends, even if the next phase is full and beautiful. I guess I’ve been...grieving...in a mild way. 

His advice for each step can be boiled down to one thing: “Stay close to the Shepherd”.

In stage one, we can’t ignore the pain or say it doesn’t hurt. We have to be authentic with ourselves and let the grieving happen. Oh, and this is a biggie: “resist the urge to self-medicate”. Above all, get close to God.

In stage two, we have to fight the tendency to withdraw or give in to pessimism. Stay connected to people. Test their advice with clear thinking and prayer. (Aka, stay close to the Shepherd again).

Stage three is all about thankfulness for the rebirth that has happened (to who else? Jesus). Cherish it and share the story—it might encourage people who lost something similar but are still in stage 1 or 2.

Good stuff for my heart. To read the full article, click here. 

The ebb and flow of friendships

I'm learning that college is a unique season in the realm of friendships.

Currently, I live in a 4-mile radius containing thousands of students, all of us possessors of time, spending money, and the energy to pursue relationships with each other.

None of us have kids.

Few of us work more than 25 hours per week.

Until I wear Depends and walk with a cane, I will probably never have so much time at my disposal for social activities again--and neither will they.

Four years can feel like an eternity, but it's really a blip on the timeline of life. We acclimate to the heightened social interaction, but suddenly--it's gone, and we have to trim our expectations to fit the scraps of time left over after work and family.

For me, the transition from college life to career isn't so sudden because I'm overlapping married life with student-hood. Also, the fact that my husband works in full-time ministry to college students means that we will never quite remove ourselves from the student sphere.

But things do change.  Even if I physically remain in a college town, my responsibilities and priorities shift.

The hardest part is the day a friend dons her cap and gown and finds a new address.  A friendship that was easy to maintain while we shared an apartment, class, or church might strain now for continuation because we simply have different worlds. No matter how good our intentions, it is simply harder to pick up a phone and call someone than it is to chat while folding laundry.

I'm waving my "guilty" flag high on this one. As much as I hate it, I often find that months--even a year--has slipped away since I called a dear friend.

I suppose it's the natural flow of life. We interact for a time, enjoy each other, grow, and then our paths diverge. And honestly, the mental weight of maintaining all friendships at an ever-increasing rate would crush me eventually. Surely a good friend will understand, meeting and talking when we can, as the flow of life allows.

But why does the change of seasons have to hurt so much?

My friend, Dana

I had planned to write a happy post today. My sister is in town for a rare visit, and we had a blast last night in historic downtown Bryan. But today, I am grieving the death of my dear friend, Dana Ciumac. This morning, at around 3 am, Jesus took her home to heaven.

Though I lost both of my beautiful grandmothers to cancer, my heart is feeling a deeper, sharper sense of tragedy because this was a friend who had not yet reached her thirties.

I met Dana in the fall of 2006. With my high school graduation only months behind me, I had flown to Europe for a six-month mission trip with Operation Mobilization. I was such an eager, skinny twig, excited to be abroad where nothing was familiar except the Latin sounds that the Romanian language holds in common with Spanish. Dana, who was Romanian, was one of perhaps 3 people on the team who spoke English, and her accepting hugs and smiles made me feel at home almost immediately.

She was young--only 22--but I was only nineteen and deeply admired her. She was so gentle, so cheerful, and if there was a joke or party, Dana was probably in the middle of it. Kids in the villages we visited would flock around her, glowing under the individual attention she gave so freely. As I greedily learned every Romanian word I could, she would patiently help me with spelling and correct my pronunciations. She led teams of young people as we served widows, created puppet shows for kid programs, and told people on the streets about the freedom and joy of knowing God personally.

After I left Europe, she continued to serve on the team, and I would receive emails, facebook messages, and even precious letters from her in Romanian. In November of 2009, she married a young man who had also been our teammate, and I celebrated with her by oooing and ahhhing over her wedding pictures online.

For approximately the last nine months, her husband Eugen has served and loved and encouraged her as few men could have done. He kept hundreds of supporters and friends informed as the cancer gradually took its course, always with unwavering faith in God's goodness and love. Only God could have known that a healthy young woman like Dana would die so soon, and I am so glad that He brought such a wonderful man into her life.

Even this morning, Eugen wrote: "I know that this is a shocking news for you, but I thank God that He released her from all the pain she had...Please pray for our families and all the friends that kept Dana close to their hearts.

Be blessed and don’t forget, God is good!"

Dana, goodbye, my beautiful friend. I will see you someday again soon.