Is His love swayed by your productivity? Must you work hard to keep Him happy? Do you wonder if He’s disappointed with your struggles and frustrated by your frailty?
Joining us today on this topic is my dear friend, Lori Hatcher. Yesterday, she launched her newest book Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible. (Grab your own copy here.)
The following post comes from her book, based on a passage from Isaiah.*
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
(Isaiah 40:11)
The early chapters of the Book of Isaiah begin with cinematography that would make the most epic 3-D film look like a kindergartener’s cartoon.
Isaiah describes smoke, thunderous noise, and angelic multitudes crying out in praise before almighty God in his temple. His heavenly glimpse of God in his throne room fills him with awe and fear. “Woe to me!” he cries. “I am ruined!”
Other Scriptures reinforce this image of God, describing him as the Conquering King, Righteous Judge, Mighty Warrior, and Powerful Sovereign. It describes how the oceans churn or quiet at God’s command. One word from God speaks the world into existence. Another has the power to send it up in smoke. With a flick of his mighty arm, thunderbolts fly from heaven. An angry glance from his all-seeing eyes causes the earth to swallow those who disobey his commands.
“See,” Isaiah 40:10 says, “the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and this arm rules for him.”
No doubt about it, God is strong. And God is active.
I’ve always admired these attributes of God (even though I find them more than slightly terrifying), because I like strength and activity. I’m a doer, not a sitter, character traits that fit well with my assumption that God expected me to be like him and work hard on his behalf.
But then I had children.
And my busy, do-lots-of-stuff-for-God life came to a screeching halt. Forget teaching a class, working on the bus ministry, or helping with every function the church sponsored. I could barely get myself and my baby dressed and out the door to attend worship on Sundays.
Then my baby had colic (which I wouldn’t subject any nursery worker in the world to). After colic, she had separation anxiety. She was three years old before she’d go into a toddler class so I could attend adult Sunday school again.
Six months later, her sister was born, and I was back to barely making it to church on Sundays.
My days of do-it-all ministry had come to an end. As far as the kingdom was concerned, I was useless.
A taker instead of a giver.
A dead weight on the gospel ship.
My heart sank to think how disappointed God must be with me. Then I read Isaiah 40:11:
“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.”
Suddenly, I understood that the Mighty Warrior was also a tender shepherd.
The Conquering King stoops down to lift the fragile and the frail.
The Righteous Judge carries his children, not as a burden on his back, but as a treasure near his heart.
The Powerful Sovereign gently leads those who are emotionally tender and physically sapped – and boy, did that describe me in those early childrearing years.
Through Isaiah’s beautiful picture of God, I learned I didn’t have to be productive for God to love me. I didn’t have to perform to earn his favor. I was free to accept what I saw as my season of “inactivity,” knowing that God had not only ordained it, but had a good plan for it.
In his tenderness, he would carry me through my season of mothering if I would rest in him and allow him to lead me.
Isaiah’s picture of God gently leading those with young gave me permission to be frail and vulnerable, knowing that he wouldn’t drive me with his rod, but lead me with his shepherd’s crook.
My children are grown now, and I’m “busy” for the Lord again. As I look back on those childrearing years, I see that they were not fruitless. Once I realized that different seasons of life bring new (and often different) opportunities to minister, I was free to embrace each season instead of chafe at it.
I learned to look for ways to be Jesus’ hands and feet wherever I was, knowing that each day was ripe with potential. And I never again worried that I wasn’t productive enough to satisfy him.
I rested in the fact that the Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Uncommon Thought The Great I AM is not frustrated by our frailties or impatient with our humanity. Instead, he willingly takes the place of a shepherd to lead with us through our earthly journey.
Unusual Faith Think a moment about your perception of God. Do you see him as a stern taskmaster, demanding and hard to please?
Or do you see him as a shepherd, gentle and understanding toward your frailties? Do you feel as though you never measure up? That you can’t do enough to please him, especially if you’re in a season of life when you feel unproductive?
Spend time meditating on Isaiah 40:11. Imagine yourself as the lamb the prophet writes about. Picture yourself in the arms of the Savior, carried close to his heart.
Ask God to lead you into a greater understanding of his love and care for you. Then follow where he leads you, trusting that he will use you for his glory, no matter what season of life you’re in.
Unfamiliar Passage Read Isaiah 40:9-13.
*(A Sample Devotion from Refresh Your Faith, Uncommon Devotions from Every Book of the Bible by Lori Hatcher)
Two weeks ago, our littlest learned to ride her bike.
She’d been on bicycle-riding strike for several months, ever since her daddy took her training wheels off. He knew she was ready and hoped a gentle push would help her learn to ride on her own. For a while, she wasn’t having it. Until two weeks ago, when she finally decided to give it a try.
And she got it.
She was so ready. On Monday she rode several feet without help. On Tuesday she learned to turn the bike around in one smooth-ish motion. On Wednesday she perfected starting and stopping. And by the weekend, she was riding like a pro.
As I watched my husband coach her on bike-riding safety, one of his comments struck a chord in my heart. “Don’t look at the building you’re trying to avoid, or you’ll run into it. Keep your eyes on where you’re going.”
I needed that advice.
Because right now, I’m awfully tempted to stare at the madness surrounding us. I literally had to talk myself out of panicking during a recent trip to the grocery store. All those empty shelves. All those scurrying people. The what-if’s pressed in and with them, the fear.
I’ve never experienced uncertainty to this level before.
There’s nothing like a worldwide pandemic to make me realize how much I worship comfort and normality. To help me see that my soul’s peace is tangled up in predictable circumstances and a sense of being in control.
As the country started shutting down, I grabbed my journal and began processing my roller coaster emotions with God. After I poured out my heart to Him, He led me to Hebrews 12:1-3:
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart” (emphasis mine).
In these unstable times, God is calling His beloved ones to fix our attention on Jesus.
In the Bible’s original Greek, fixing one’s eyes means
“To turn the eyes away from other things and fix them on something.”
I don’t know about you, but my feelings have run the gamut over the past two weeks. I’ve been confused, afraid, and overwhelmed. I’ve felt happy to stay at home and thrilled with the extra family time. I’ve been bored, depressed, and restless. Today I’m just plain weary.
Lots of things are vying for our attention.
So like my little bicyclist with her gaze straight ahead, I’m choosing to glance at what’s going on around and within – listening to the news reports, heeding the CDC’s directives, working through my emotions with God – but then I’m turning my heart’s focus back to Jesus.
Not that it’s easy. But it is a conscious choice. One that takes coming back to, day after very long day, moment after mundane moment.
Because really, how we walk through these days is a matter of faith.
Will we choose to bring our fears and our feelings to God? Will we hold onto the promises of His Word? Will we focus on Jesus and trust His heart and His plan?
He alone can anchor our souls through this storm. So right now, let’s guide our hearts back to rest by looking at Jesus (See Psalm 116:7):
He has the final say, despite unpredictable viruses and even human free will (1 Peter 3:22).
Let’s fix our eyes on Jesus and step boldly into each new day, knowing our God is for us (Romans 8:31), and with us (Matthew 28:20), and in us (1 John 4:4).
What other qualities of Jesus are you resting in right now? I’d love to hear! Please comment below.
What will our kids remember from these history-making times in which we’re living?
As the Coronavirus spreads across the globe, our kids are trying to make sense of things, just as we parents are. They hear the news stories. They see the empty grocery store shelves. They wonder if someone they know will come down with the virus next. They feel the loneliness of social distancing and worry that their summer plans may end up cancelled before this is all over.
How can we help them thrive and build positive memories of these days spent at home?
You may have heard the following saying:
“People may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.”
– Carl W. Buechner
Right now, the days are rich with opportunities to help our kids experience the following emotions:
Enjoyed
Extended time at home means lots of togetherness. Instead of being distracted, each on our own device, let’s be intentional about having fun together. Dust off those board games. Bake some cookies with your kids. Pull out your favorite childhood books and read them aloud. Enjoy a picnic in the backyard and play frisbee while you’re out there.
Thankful
It’s all too easy to focus on what we’re missing and fixate on what we don’t have. But now’s a great time to take inventory of all the good things we do enjoy. Give each family member an index card and take time to count your blessings. Add to this list each day.
Secure
The world may be in a panic and people may be stockpiling toilet paper, but at home, let’s cultivate a feeling of security and camaraderie. Invite open conversations where everyone can freely discuss what they’re thinking and feeling. Remind each other often of your love. Seek to create a haven where each person feels safe, understood, and encouraged to thrive.
Hopeful
This won’t be the only time our kids face scary situations. How we handle things now can prepare them to face the future with confidence. Remind each other of ways you’ve seen God answer prayer. Talk often of His faithfulness in the past – both to you and to other believers. (Reading missionary stories is a great way to do this.*)
Above all, keep coming back to Jesus as our Rock in unstable times (Psalm 61:2). Read the Psalms together and discuss what you learn about Him there. Spend time praying with one another. Verbalize your faith that God works all things out for our good (Romans 8:28).
The days ahead are rich with family-building, faith-cultivating opportunities. With intentionality, we can help our kids feel enjoyed, thankful, secure, and full of hope.
They’ll remember these feelings for the rest of their lives.
*Christian Heroes: Then and Now and the Trailblazer Books are our family’s favorite missionary story series.
Do you think of a formal church service? Maybe a girl’s name? If asked to define it, what would you say?
Those who grew up in Sunday School might remember the acronym: God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense. Maybe you’ve heard some other catchy definition. Maybe you really aren’t sure.
I’ve heard about grace my whole life (something for which I’m incredibly thankful). But amazing didn’t really describe how I felt about it.
I was a good girl. Sure, God had forgiven my sins – at five years old. But my kindergartener shortcomings didn’t seem all that significant. Even during my teen and young adult years, I never did anything too bad.
So the grace we discussed at church only seemed amazing when I heard stories about drug addicts and ex-cons coming to faith. For people like that, grace truly was amazing. For me, though, I just didn’t feel it. Not only did I not do the really bad stuff, I spent my life doing lots of good stuff – having daily quiet times, leading Bible studies, teaching my kids about Jesus…
Because of my goodness, the amazingness of grace was lost on me.
Until that good girl life crumbled and I couldn’t keep up with my checklist Christianity. In that season of survival when I had nothing good to offer God, I felt His favor like never before. Suddenly, I saw the repulsiveness of my self-righteous Christianity, the utter inadequacy of my good deeds to earn His smile.
Suddenly, I began to understand grace.
Through all those years of pride and performance-based faith, God knew the depths of my heart. He saw the judgment with which I looked at others. He recognized how unimpressed I was with His blood-purchased grace.
Yet He loved me.
That is the essence of grace.
For the self-righteous and the unrighteous, grace is the key to understanding our Father’s heart. It’s an inseparable part of His nature, the basis on which He relates to us.
If your view of grace leaves you uninspired, maybe a fresh perspective will jump-start your heart as it did mine.
Our pastor recently gave this definition:
If you imagine God’s face as He looks at you, what expression do you see?
Do you see Someone excited to lavish you with good gifts? Is He favorably disposed toward you? Do kindness and generosity radiate from His eyes? Do you feel Him drawing you close, not to give you tomorrow’s to-do list, but to just be? Be close, be loved, be renewed, be transformed…
Or do you feel it’s up to you to keep yourself close to Him, to make yourself want Him, to grow and produce fruit so He’ll be happy with you? Must you earn His grace by trying hard to be humble, or is humility merely the recognition that you can’t?
Grace is only grace if we don’t deserve it (for both unbelievers and those who know Him). It flows freely, abundantly, exponentially from the heart of our God.
“For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:16).
Unexplainable, illogical, even scandalous by human standards, this grace is woven into every facet of our relationship with God.
You are deeply loved, daughter of grace. Your Father delights in you. He is lavish in kindness, abundant in power, persistent in His pursuit of your heart.
Grace is yours if you are His.
Rest in it. Revel in it. Run free in it.
What amazes you about grace? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
The question tugged at the corners of my soul as I trudged through each day. A dark cloud hovered over every waking moment. And sleep? That was a struggle, too. I had one bed-wetter and another child with night-terrors, so the sleep I did get was often fragmented and restless.
How I hated mornings. I dreaded facing a new day.
How can I be a good mom when I feel so sad, so weary, so…depressed?
Numbness presided over my heart. Things that used to bring joy now seemed empty and hollow. Routine tasks overwhelmed me with paralyzing force. I didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to do fun activities with my kids and especially didn’t want to talk about how I was really feeling.
Depression carries such a stigma. If I admitted my daily struggle, I feared people would see me as weak or unspiritual. They might lecture or give unhelpful help. They might judge me.
Oh, what a prison depression can be. It’s like walking through a deep, dark valley with insurmountable cliffs towering high above, blocking out any ray of light or hope for escape.
I’ve spent time there and come out the other side. May I share with you what I learned?
Get real with God.
Jesus calls Himself “the God of hope” and invites us to pour out our hearts to Him.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13 ESV
“Trust in Him at all times, O people. Pour out your heart before Him. God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8 ESV
His heart is kind and full of compassion, not condemnation. He can handle our pain and is not disappointed when we struggle. He is still a miracle worker and healer of hearts.
Let others in.
It’s hard to own this struggle, but admitting our need and asking for help is a huge step in the healing process. Maybe it’s a trusted friend or a prayer group that can lift us up before God. Maybe it’s a doctor who can evaluate things from a medical perspective.
Do something for yourself.
This may sound selfish, but sometimes it’s the healthiest, most unselfish thing we can do. We can’t pour into the lives of others if our own tank is on empty. Find something that gives you rest, even enjoyment, and make room for that in your life.
Progress, not perfection.
The day may seem daunting, the job overwhelming. Instead of striving for perfection, aim for progress and rejoice in each step.
Our God is patient as He forms Christ in us. He is not in a hurry, nor is He disappointed that we’re not further down the road to recovery. Becoming like Jesus is a life-long process that God is committed to completing.
“And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:6 ESV
Depression is a cruel companion, but it does not define us. We are not helpless victims, but treasured children of an all-powerful God. He is always close at hand and has made us more than conquerors through His unconditional love.
Sunday night, hubby came home from a week-long business convention in Pennsylvania. We stayed busy while he was gone – the big kids went to STEM camp each day, our littlest enjoyed several play dates with her besties, and I wrote lots and lots of words. When the weekend rolled around, we were all more than ready for Daddy to be home.
Except that I wasn’t ready when he got home.
Dinner wasn’t done. The bathroom deep clean that had exploded into our bedroom wasn’t… well, cleaned up. The laundry sat where I’d left it, waiting to be put on hangers and hung in the closet.
How I wanted everything to be perfect when he walked in the door. But alas, real life got in the way.
And guess what? He didn’t care.
He just wanted to be with us. To hear about our week and tell us about his. To snuggle up close and enjoy the evening together.
As I bustled about the kitchen trying to hurry the cooking along, I remembered the story of another woman with whose life I so often relate.
Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” Luke 10:38-42.
I so get Martha! She loved Jesus and wanted everything to be perfect for Him. That meal in the oven was an expression of her affection. She longed to make Him comfortable, to help Him feel at home.
Yet all Jesus wanted was her.
Her heart, her focus, her devotion – not shown through works done in His name, but through responding to His loving pursuit.
In contrast to restless Martha, there sat Mary — the picture of a quiet heart.
Yeah, there were unfinished chores to be done. But Jesus had arrived, and she had to be near Him.
Serving from a distance just would not do.
If He was sitting in the living room, that’s where Mary wanted to be. If He went to the dining room, you’d find her there. If He walked outside, she’d join Him there, too.
Mary was preoccupied with Jesus.
The Bible mentions this Mary several other times – once at Lazarus’ tomb, where she brought her grief to Jesus just before He raised her brother from the dead, and again at a dinner party, where she anointed His feet with expensive perfume as an act of worship*.
In both scenarios, Mary went where Jesus was. She loved Him and needed Him, so she ran to Him with zero hesitation.
Oh, God, give me such a heart! May I never be content with days full of service yet absent of connection with You. Teach me to cultivate Your presence, both in my “daily quiet times” and in middle of my everyday crazy.
How about you? How do you practice the presence of God? In what ways do you cultivate a quiet heart? I’d love to hear – please leave a comment below!
Dinner wasn’t done. The bathroom deep clean that had exploded into our bedroom wasn’t… well, cleaned up. The laundry sat where I’d left it, waiting to be put on hangers and hung in the closet.