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)
Have you ever played Twenty Questions with a stranger?
Last fall, a new friend on Instagram invited me to participate in an interview — twenty questions about life and faith and my relationship with God. It took me until Christmastime to return my answers — they weren’t quick and easy! A lot of other interviewees were in line ahead of me, but this week the interview went live.
Questions ranged from “What’s on your nightstand right now?” to “What are your top three tips for staying spiritually strong?”
Here’s my favorite question, along with my answer:
“What do you want people to learn about God when they look at you?”
“When people see my life and hear my story, I hope the relentless love of God comes to the forefront in dazzling splendor. I pray they sense the still, small voice of God whispering His delight over them and graciously drawing them closer to His heart.”
If you’re curious about the rest of the interview, I’d love for you to hop over to Modern Witnesses
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.
Maybe it’s an echo of Eden or a yearning for things to come, this drive I have for perfection.
I long for things to be just so, for everything to fit in neat and tidy boxes, for the day to go as planned and all our stuff (aka clutter) to stay neatly organized.
Christmastime is no exception.
Actually, my drive for perfection may be even more intense this time of year. I want the tree trimmed symmetrically (I have been known to readjust ornaments after the kids go to bed), the shopping to be done ahead of time, and the menu to be memory-worthy. I long for quiet evenings by the tree with a cup of tea and a good book. And I want it all to progress slowly enough for everyone to enjoy the season.
But sometimes, most of the time, real life doesn’t fit in my ideal little boxes.
Right now, I’m sitting in front of the Christmas tree and a whole section of lights is out, despite the time my husband spent restringing all the lights (several times, but we won’t mention that frustrating fact.)
And it’s crazy early in the morning right now, but the jet lag from my mission trip 12 time zones away has my sleeping patterns all out of whack.
And the Christmas cards arrived from the printer on time, but they looked so awful I had to have them redone. Guess they’ll be late this year.
I realized, however, that these little details really are minor frustrations. For many people, Christmas is a time of deep sadness. Tears well up in my eyes as I remember friends who’ve suffered great loss recently. My dear mentor told me not a Christmas goes by without her thinking of loved ones not present at their holiday gatherings.
Real life is messy and full of heart-breaking disappointments. Christmas has a way of accentuating that pain.
Nothing in real life is truly Pinterest perfect.
But that’s why Emmanuel came.
Everything was perfect in His heavenly home. Perfectly sinless. Perfectly painless. Perfectly perfect in every way. Jesus was honored and served and adored there.
But you see, He loved these humans He’d created. The ones who’d traded in their perfect relationship with Him for a shot at doing life on their own – and we’ve been living with the fallout from that bad decision ever since (all the while adding our own sinful messes to the mix).
Yet no matter how broken humankind was, God wouldn’t stop loving them. He’d appear in their imperfect world, live among them, and make a way for their relationship with Him to be restored.
He wouldn’t do it our way, though. No royal palace, no sterile birthplace – Jesus stepped down right into the middle of our brokenness.
He entered a virgin’s womb, and everyone doubted his mother’s integrity. He showed up in a jam-packed town and only the animals made room for Him. Smelly shepherds were His greeting committee and foreign dignitaries paid Him homage, while most of His own failed to notice His arrival.
His hometown was despised. His people oppressed. For most of His life, He was simply “The Carpenter’s Son.” Thirty of His 33 years were spent in obscurity.
When His ministry officially began, He defied everyone’s idealized notions of how this Messiah thing should be done. Instead of conquering Rome’s oppressive regime, He said, “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (Mark 12:17, NIV). While others clamored for first place, Jesus took off His robe, knelt before His bickering followers, and washed their filthy feet (John 13).
He loved the unlovely. He forgave the unworthy. He turned the world upside down.
This is the Baby we celebrate at Christmastime. So why on earth do we bustle so frantically to make sure everything is just right?
That first Christmas was a stunning display of God’s ability –affinity even — to create beauty, not in our perfection, but from our brokenness.
He’s present in the process, not just the finished product.
This is our Emmanuel – the God who’s right here with us, with all our struggles and heartaches, our warts and bruises and scars.
God’s idea of the perfect Christmas is vastly different than ours, which is really comforting to me. It reminds me that there’s beauty in this very moment, untidy as it is, if I’ll just be still and embrace it.
His presence is the heart of the Christmas spirit, so life doesn’t have to be perfect to celebrate the season.
As we count down the last few days until December 25th, let’s look for Jesus in each moment, bringing Him our heartaches, our disappointments, our frustrations.
Let’s choose present over perfect, memory-making over striving, and surrender to His plan over clinging to our own.
Let’s celebrate God’s work right now, even as we long for the perfection that will one day be our reality.
How about you? How are you finding rest in the middle of the Christmas crazy? I’d love to hear – please leave a comment below!
Summer vacation, that is. The heat is forecasted to stick with us for a while yet. The kids are back to their studies and our weekly routine is becoming more…routine.
I’m not sure what happened to the lazy days of summer, but we didn’t see many of them this year. All three kids swam on our neighborhood swim team and had a blast. A six-times-a-week blast. Then our son started cross country with one, then two, now three practices a week. There were other activities as well, like VBS and STEM camp and playdates.
While the kids were busy, I spent a lot of time writing and even tackled a few painting projects. Our summer was definitely full.
But as the school year approached and I went into prep mode for our homeschool and co-op, I realized life was about to get even busier.
Not going to lie – I’ve had a few meltdowns trying to keep up with everything. One night I jolted awake, gasping for breath as I realized I was in the middle of a panic attack. It seemed strange, because I wasn’t mentally worried about anything. Yet the emotional stress of trying to juggle all my responsibilities was taking its toll.
The irony of my current writing project has not escaped my notice. I mean, really. I’m writing a book on soul rest. It seems I may have picked the wrong topic.
Until I remember that I’m writing it because I’m learning it.
Rest is on my heart because God’s teaching me to rest it in the middle of our everyday crazy. Things may not slow down, at least not for long. But Jesus’ invitation to “come rest” remains unchanged in each life season.
Here are a few things He’s teaching me on this crazy, busy road:
Soul rest takes returning
“Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you” (Psalm 116:7). In the busyness, it’s easy to become unsettled. To grow restless when life feels out of control or when our insides are knotted up for one reason or another.
Living from a heart of rest requires a choice – a conscious decision to cling to faith over feelings, to let God draw us back to Himself as our Source of peace.
Soul rest has a Source
The psalmist found rest in remembering God and we can, too. Right in the middle of life’s crazy, without waiting for things to calm down, we must remind our hearts of who God is:
He is abundantly good, even when life isn’t.
He responds to my prayers.
He is gracious, compassionate, and faithful.
He is infinitely powerful.
He’ll never call me where His grace won’t sustain me.
He’s already provided, in Jesus, everything I need to live the life to which He’s called me.
He loves me unconditionally and welcomes me to come running – freely, boldly, to Him.
He is, and always will be, for me.
The bottom line, I’m learning, is that soul rest is a walk of faith.
Whether I’m sitting at His feet in prayer or driving my kids to yet another lesson or practice, I can rest fully and freely in my relationship with Jesus. He never changes and His definition of me is constant, too.
When you know you’re relentlessly loved and fully accepted, life gets a whole lot easier.
That is the reality for every follower of Jesus. Will you join me in resting in this truth today?
How do you practice soul rest? I’d love to hear – please comment below to join the conversation! Or click here to join my email group and receive access to all the Bible Study printables in my free resource library.
But sometimes, most of the time, real life doesn’t fit in my ideal little boxes.
He entered a virgin’s womb, and everyone doubted his mother’s integrity. He showed up in a jam-packed town and only the animals made room for Him. Smelly shepherds were His greeting committee and foreign dignitaries paid Him homage, while most of His own failed to notice His arrival.
I’m not sure what happened to the lazy days of summer, but we didn’t see many of them this year. All three kids swam on our neighborhood swim team and had a blast. A six-times-a-week blast. Then our son started cross country with one, then two, now three practices a week. There were other activities as well, like VBS and STEM camp and playdates.