Resilience, Rescue and Time

So many things have happened since I last wrote here. All hard.

I'm realizing each day I walk with Jesus that so much of this walk is characterized by this:

growing in resilience. 

Resilience - the art of bouncing back. the ability to be stretched, but not destroyed. the willingness to be refined, pruned, disciplined and stripped away without resulting in bitterness or anger. The courage to believe that this too shall end in praise.

Resilience is willing to die to our own needs, agenda or expectation and in the midst of this, continue to be a true worshiper. Continue to praise even in prison.

Resilience means I choose God above all else -- emotions, circumstances, rights, what I think I deserve, what I thought I heard.

Choose God. This has become our theme in this season.

Also this:

the battle belongs to the Lord.

He is the one who fights, rescues, protects, redeems and vindicates. We only do this: Take our position, stand firm and see. (2 Chronicles 20: 15-17)

I experienced this firsthand on 8/21. Our street team was walking in Skid Row and a shooting happened steps away from where we were. If not for another patient in distress that we began to follow, we would have been in that park, caught up in the first mass shooting in Skid Row's history.

See we thought we were only helping out another patient, but God was actually rescuing us, protecting us, shielding us.

Rescue.

I wonder how often we are rescued in this way and we don't know it. We don't thank God for it. He's always battling for us. Always fighting on our behalf.

The other thing I'm realizing in this season is this: my sense of time is not and will never be God's sense of time. Ultimately I won't ever know the exact timing of things or when promises will come to pass. All I need to know is this:

stay near to Jesus. Always. 

Wherever He is, go to Him. When I'm trouble, draw near to Him.

Nearness to Jesus is life in this season.

When we are near to Jesus, we may not know the exact timeline for fruition of promises, but we can know the way of the season we are in. We can know what this season is about, its theme, its focus, its timbre.

Know your season. 

This season for me and Ash is best summed up in Psalm 66:

Bless our God, O peoples;
    let the sound of his praise be heard,
9 who has kept our soul among the living
    and has not let our feet slip.
10 For you, O God, have tested us;
    you have tried us as silver is tried.
11 You brought us into the net;
    you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
12 you let men ride over our heads;
    we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance.


The end of the story is this: abundance. But it's so important to know our season. To know this is a season of being refined, of being tried, of being led through and in front of trouble. Of being brought face-to-face with giants, not because of punishment, but because God's infinite love compels Him to drain out every particle in our bodies that is bent toward unbelief, bent toward destruction, bent toward mistrusting His goodness. 

In every season, God's ultimate desire isn't to just fulfill His promises to us. That's a byproduct of something greater:

relationship. 

God's desire always is to give us Jesus. Fully, wholly and unconditionally. 

N., may you know this each day as you grow. May you seek Jesus above what He can give or promise. May you seek Jesus for Jesus. May you choose Him above all else, in every decision, in every thought, in every action, in every season. May you develop in your spirit a deep resilience, a bouncing back that enables you to withstand refining and testing so that you can take up your position, stand firm and see that the end of every story is always this:

the abundant presence of Christ Jesus. 

N, your time is near

It's true. I can say it with full assurance without striving because this declaration is full of God.

It's a strange sensation to just know that something is about to happen or something is just right.

The last time this happened it was when I knew I was going to marry Ash. No one had to tell me. It was a precious secret between me, God and Ash. It didn't matter if others understood it or if it was logical, rational or fit some generic formula. I knew in my gut, in the recesses of my being that he was the man God intended for me. 7 years later, it's even more true. It's more true each and every day.

And today, I have this same knowledge. So much so that I don't need to even pray to conceive anymore because I would be repeating to God what He already intends, what He already has prepared, what He has already spoken into existence.

In it's time I will hasten it, says the Lord.

I also know this is soon to happen because the battle is fierce. Nuru still isn't well. I've had conflict w/ dear friends. Ash is struggling. Anxiety reigns most of my days. And it's only when I pause to peer deeply into the eyes of Jesus that I feel relief and respite. Even as I write this, anxiety rises up...what if im wrong? what if i've heard wrong or sensed wrong again?

How do we hold on to what God has said when our reality wars against it?

God has said I would be a mother. That I would have a son. That it would happen this year. I sense that it may happen soon, perhaps this month. But I've also sensed this before and been totally wrong.

But perhaps this isn't about being right or wrong. Perhaps it's just about being close to God and being ALL in. Believing even without seeing. Trusting without fully knowing. Hurling a stone at the giant with the assurance that either God will slay the giant or you will die having taken a chance on God. Either way being totally ok.

So I believe. I'm going to trust the spirit of God within me that says the time is near. That the battle rages because fruition is about to happen.

In the midst of all this, N, I believe God has given me a glimpse of who you will be as you grow. Of what you will impact, a seed of what you will be about.

I pray your life will be characterized by this:

The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them. The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox. The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child put his hand into the viper's nest. They will neither harm nor destory on all my holy moutain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. - Isaiah 11: 6-9

N, I pray your spirit will be of this caliber. A spirit that tears down division, that cuts through fear, that brings justice. I pray that your spirit will bring reversal to destruction. That your spirit will bring courage even in your youth. That even as a child you will dwell in seeming dangerous places with boldness because God has called you there. That your spirit will cause unexpected change. That your spirit will cause enemies to unite, harmony to reign, righteousness to flow.

That you will NOT fear.

That you will live a FEARLESS life. That generational fear would be broken in you in Jesus name.

That gentleness and firmness would co-exist in you. That quietness and boldness would shine in you simultaneously. That even we would be in awe of how so many opposite things can co-exist in you and through you. That your spirit would encompass the same Spirit of Jesus that causes walls to be torn down, not just unto freedom, but unto shalom, a true peace.

May your hands know the viper's nest and when you seek it out, would your hands know how to bring the healing of God there.

May you be full of knowledge.

I can't wait to meet you very soon. Mama, loves you.

Peace will be your Governor

Nuru got sick a few days ago. This somewhat rare skin infection on her nose emerged and it has surprisingly thrust me into a state of utter fear and worry.

I know she's just a dog...but she's my dog...my dog child. The other living being I've been living with for these last 5 years, raised her from age 2 months.

She's the closest thing to a child that I have.

I'm grappling with intense uncertainty as to if she's going to be ok.

Is it just an infection or worse? The vet was super unhelpful so now I'm thrust into further anxiety.

How do we hold onto peace in the midst of uncertainty?

Isaiah 26: He will keep in perfect peace those who's hearts are steadfastly upon Him (paraphrased)

Isaiah 60: I will make peace your governor

I will make peace your governor.

What a beautiful phrase. That God's promise is that we will be GOVERNED by peace. Not anxiety, not worry, not fear.

I don't want to be a fearful mother. To a dog or to a human child.

I'm realizing I've been governed by anxiety and fear my whole life. From the day I was born, I was thrust into anxiety.

I live each day with an underlying stream of anxiety, of subconsciously waiting for the bottom to drop out from below. With this lie that if something good happens, it must be balanced and tempered by something bad or a trial of some kind.

Is it possible that I will get pregnant this year but somehow lose Nuru? How is it that I deserve to be so happy that I can have a child, keep my dog, have an amazing marriage, a fulfilling job, healthy parents and a new house?

Do I believe God to be this good?

And yet God's reminder to me in this season is:

Peace will be your governor

I speak peace Jesus says. I can hold all things together. I am not a God who works in balances. I don't balance things out with good and not so good. I know only one mode: to always be good.

God, I want peace in the midst of this uncertain season and most especially, I want to be healed of the daily, persistent and chronic anxiety I live with each and every hour of every day.

I want to trust you completely.

I am scared. Every day I'm scared. I'm scared Nuru will die prematurely. I'm scared I'll have a sick child. I'm scared I'll have a complicated pregnancy. I'm scared my parents won't live long enough to see a grandchild. I'm scared I won't be a good mother.

I'm so scared.

Teach me O God to be steadfast in you. To cling to the rock that is higher than me. To allow peace to govern me.

N., I pray most fervently that you will not inherit this generational anxiety I carry. That somehow as you are knit together within me that my anxiety isn't exacerbated, but actually healed. That as you are knit together within me, a new frame of being and perspective is knit within me simultaneously, one that is immune to chronic anxiety, one that is no longer interlaced with chronic fear. I pray that as you are knit within me that I am knit together in Jesus in a new way that causes me to know courage, to know trust and to know hope and no longer fear and worry. May we both be knit together in hope, where anxiety can never thrive, can never live, where:

peace is our governor. 

Leaves the 99

Today was my 2nd day on our street team in Skid Row. I'm realizing I need to write each day I'm out with my team because being on the streets of Skid Row is pretty much like being in the midst of a war zone. 

War.

It's a war of emotions, of addictions battling one another, of literal and spiritual assaults. The onslaught of smells, the aura of suffering all around at war with one another. It's a war of good against evil. Of incredible community and resilience and simultaneous despair, hopelessness. 

Today, as I began what would end up being a 3.1mile trek around Skid Row, I was struck by this reality:

It's a war that somehow has already been won. 

Jesus won it, defeated every single power of evil I see as I walk those streets. Defeated prostitution, defeated domestic violence, defeated drug addiction, defeated mistrust, defeated shame, defeated guilt, defeated generational curses, defeated sin.

We saw so many people today in deep, deep suffering. Suffering so deep that in our humanity, it's impossible to even comprehend or address. 

But there was one particular interaction today I don't want to forget. As we walked through Gladys Park in Skid Row looking for people, a young woman approached us. She was bitten by a dog the day before and wanted help. 

We dressed her wound and she left, a pretty minor interaction. 

However, she came back...as it turns out she was still bleeding on one side of her leg. So my MA went to help her as I was caring for another patient on the sidewalk. 

In the midst of their interaction, the patient shared she had planned to end her life that day. She was going to take pills. She was fed up with life.

And in that moment, the entire world stood still for her. I could sense a turn in the spiritual realm as God's eyes in that moment rested intensely and compassionately upon her. 

I walked up to her and asked her if she could share with me what was going on. She said she wasn't sure, that she didn't want to live this kind of life anymore, she was tired. 

War.

And yet in that moment, Jesus, the God of the universe, left his "99." In the midst of the billions in need, Jesus chose to be present to this precious 1. 

Actually He has been present all along. 

The end of the story is this: she decided to live. She decided to not take her life. To hang on. 

Her parting words to us were: Thank you for making my day. 

God saved her life today. Not because we were present, but because:

He is always present. 

Because Jesus leaves anything and everything to go after just 1, just 1 who may be lost, who may be suffering, who may feel like all hope is lost. 

I don't know exactly what will happen to her, but I know this:

Jesus is with her. He has always been and He always will be. 

So in the midst of the war, we have a God that intentionally, persistently, and against all odds: 

Goes after the 1. 

N., you are God's 1. I am God's 1, your father is God's 1. He will always chase us, pursue us, be with us. May you know always that in the midst of any war you may face, you are not the 99,

You are His 1. 

Perseverance

It's kind of an overused word in some circles, and yet underutilized and underdeveloped in most places.

What does it mean to persevere? To persevere in prayer, to persevere in joy, to persevere in patience, to persevere in waiting, to persevere with people?

Today on 8/3/19, I'm not pregnant. It hasn't happened yet. But oddly, I feel closer to the fruition of God's promise to me of you, N., then ever before...

There is a peace that truly transcends understanding. An assurance that even as I look ahead without any inclination of when this will happen for us, I trust that God is a promise-keeper.

Perseverance.

Perhaps in this season, this is what it means to persevere with God. To walk with Him without a map or spiritual GPS. To persevere, even when I don't understand Him or His ways. To persevere in spending time with Him and communing with Him even when I don't see.

I think perseverance isn't talked about alot because it involves pain. To persevere means to push past our emotions and tap into the invisible, the less-praised thing, the less obvious thing, the treasure in secret, dark and inconvenient places.

Perseverance means so much to me this season because it frames the way of my days. To persevere with my Jesus and praise Him in the not yet places. To persevere as I am being made adequate.

It also means alot to me as I walk with my precious brothers and sisters on the streets of Skid Row.

On 8/1, I started on our street medicine team in Skid Row.

What does it mean to persevere when 4,000 people live in a concentrated area, ridden with evil, ridden with suffering, ridden with hopelessness, drugs, sexual abuse, poverty, sorrow, addiction, mental illness, loneliness, disease?

How does Jesus persevere each and every day with these ones? And how can I do so in my limited capacity to love, hope and be present?

How do I persevere in hope when I see men cooking meth on the ground and injecting themselves in broad daylight? When I see women prostituting in bathrooms for money or drugs?

How do we persevere in the midst of impossibility?

I don't think it means we put aside impossibility and look for what's possible. No. I think we become well-acquainted with impossibility. It becomes home for us. And as we make our home in impossibility, we find God there. We find Jesus in the midst of impossibility and He walks us out into His possibility.

So perseverance means facing impossibility face-to-face, head on, without reserve. Going all into impossibility and finding that God is in the midst of every impossibility. He is well-acquainted with impossibility. Because in Him, in Christ:

Nothing is impossible.

N., may you know this each and every day. May you be a seeker of impossible things. May you hope for the impossible, may you leap into the unknown, knowing that Jesus is more than enough to catch you. May you know that the most exciting thing about following Jesus is this:

In Him, nothing will ever be impossible.