If we want to draw near to the Lord, if we want Him to reveal Himself to us, if we want to see His glory, we have to know that what is in our hearts will be brought to light, and we have to be okay with it.  The dark corners and hidden places that go unnoticed in the dimly-lit rooms of apathy and complacency become ever brighter as we venture closer to the light of His holiness.

It can be a hard thing, knowing what’s in those unseen spaces and still finding the willingness to let the Lord expose and convict, challenge and rebuke.  It can be tempting to hold back, to be satisfied with the light and fellowship we can enjoy at a ‘safe’ distance, where we don’t have to acknowledge or deal with the “little” sins that are even so robbing joy, constricting life, limiting the Spirit’s ability to move in and through us.  It takes humbling – recognizing that no matter how much we want to hold onto something, no matter how convinced we are that freedom isn’t worth the mark on our perceived character or the forced submission of our flesh – the forgiveness and restoration that comes with repentance and refining is of far greater value.

And I think God is waiting for us to have that realization.  I think He is waiting for us to want Him enough, to truly put Him first, to make seeking His face and entering into His presence more important than our comfort, more important than our reputation, more important than our earthly desires.

He is wanting us to enter in to His presence – actively, purposely, knowingly – laying aside everything else, that we might gain Christ.

When I shut up heaven and there is no rain, or command the locusts to devour the land, or send pestilence among My people, 14 if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. —2 Chronicles 7:13-14

Unless the Lord builds the house, They labor in vain who build it; Unless the Lord guards the city, The watchman stays awake in vain.  —Psalm 127:1

It’s not me.  It’s not my ideas.  It’s not my methods.  It’s not my perfection.  It’s not my wisdom.  It’s not my talents.  It’s not my successes.

It’s not me.  It’s not my insufficiencies.  It’s not my weaknesses.  It’s not my inferiority.  It’s not my fear.  It’s not my flaws.

No matter how much I might sometimes think that my efforts, whether seemingly enough or spectacularly inadequate, determine the end result of anything, the reality is that nothing will stand in my life apart from His divine orchestration.

Lord, help me set my eyes on You.  Let my heart be Your heart, and my will submit to Yours in all things.  May I always, always know that who I am in You is enough and that nothing I try to do apart from You will ever prosper.  God, be glorified in this life.

I’m torn about what to write.  I know that I mostly write melancholy things.  I know that it sometimes might seem like life is always, only struggles.  I don’t want to give that perception.

So, I thought, maybe I should write about the good things.  Maybe, I should say something about how much I love having a big garden, and how we have already enjoyed radishes, kale, chives, lettuce, chard, rhubarb and strawberries, and how it still amazes and humbles me how God makes things grow.  Maybe, I should say how much fun I have watching Caedmon’s baseball games…even in the rain, even while watching the other four kids.  Maybe, I should note how I am taken aback every time I walk into the kitchen and see that all the dishes have been washed, dried, and put away and I didn’t have to do a thing.  Maybe, I should write about the cute things my kids have said, and how thankful I am for my husband, and how I smile a little bit every time I see the pretty pink peonies gracing my table.

Maybe I should write about those things.  It’s all true.  And they are good things, for sure.  I am blessed in my life.  I know that.

But when it comes to life lessons?  When it comes to where God is revealing Himself to me most poignantly?  The reality, then, is that the depth of His grace in my life is not best seen through the joys and blessings.  Perhaps it’s different for everyone, but in my life, I see God and hear God the best in the midst of struggle.  Refining processes require a disruption in material for the impurities to be separated out.

I am thankful for the blessings in my life.  So thankful.

Honestly, though?  I’m more thankful for the difficulties…that draw me to the Lord, that test my faith, that show me my great need of sanctification, that remind me of just how much better, and stronger, and more perfect than me He is.  It may not always come across that way when I write.  Sometimes, things are painful and hard to understand.  Sometimes, I wish I was not such a slow learner.  Sometimes, I doubt.  A closer walk with Him is worth so much more than He’s ever asked me to give, though it seems to require more than I think I want to give, at times.  Those moments have shaped my faith and my life.  I could never give anything more than a superficial glimpse of His redemptive work in me if I did not tell most about those moments.

I have a “habit” of taking a small break during my days these past few weeks to go outside and just wander around the yard, peruse the gardens, pull a few weeds, and just be alone for a few minutes.  The past few days have been cool ones, and today there is rain added in.  It’s the kind of weather that I love, but not the kind of weather I normally think would cause a garden to thrive.

Today, though, as I approached our first garden bed, I was almost startled by the size my broccoli and beets and beans had grown to, seemingly overnight.  I found the first pea pod, and kale leaves now large enough to be picked.  Moving on, I saw the asparagus plants now thriving after weeks of wondering if they were going to do anything at all, and cabbage plants, full and lovely…and God stirred something in my heart.

He reminded me that some plants need the cold to thrive.  My throat tightened at the thought, my eyes filled with tears.  I’ve been pleading with God to end this season of my soul that has been cold and dreary and harsh.  It’s nothing warm or beautiful or sunny.  But there is fruit that won’t be brought to bear in my life except in and through this season.

For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God Than dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield; The Lord will give grace and glory; No good thing will He withhold From those who walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, Blessed is the man who trusts in You!                       —Psalm 84:10-12   

This morning is off to a slow start.  I have a headache.  I have a long list for the day, for the week.  My heart is heavy and my soul is parched.  Some days, I feel like I’m walking in wilderness, wandering, wanting to leave, but feeling like God is not leading me out.  This morning, I asked why.

The answer I got was simply a reminder of why God had the Israelites wander in the wilderness: And you shall remember that the Lord your God led you all the way these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. —Deuteronomy 8:2. 

In a lot of ways, it is not an answer I would have preferred.  It stings a little bit, to think that I need humbling.  It frightens me a little bit, to think that what’s in my heart should be brought to light; to think that my faithlessness and frailty could be exposed.  But the comfort – the hope – I find in this answer is that it reminds me that God is leading me, even in the wilderness, and that there is a purpose for it.  And, really, that’s all I need to know. 

Today, Tim is 35.  He’s the best of the best.  Case in point?  We had a basic plan for today…simple, easy, low-stress.  But my closest friend called to tell me that her older brother died.  So we will be leaving this afternoon to be with her for a couple days.  And Tim has gone out of his way to make it so, because he knows it matters to me.  What’s more, I never had any doubt that he would.  How I got blessed with such an amazing man to spend my life with is beyond me, but I am so, so thankful for him.

There are few things that make me feel like a kid.  I am not often very child-like.  But thunderstorms are one of the rare exceptions.  I love them.  They remind me of my childhood when pouring rain was a drop-everything excuse to run outside, rather than inside.

It occurred to me today, as Caedmon’s baseball game was called because of the weather, that it may have confused some of the people who were [reasonably] rushing to their vehicles to see someone standing with five kids, unconcerned by the rain and wind.  I was waiting as Tim helped pick up the bats and helmets and such, and it honestly didn’t occur to me that I should be bothered by the weather.  I realized, though, that it was probably a bad-wife moment upon seeing how not-excited Tim was about standing in the rain while we got kids and ‘stuff’ into the van…something I could have done instead of waiting for him.

Luckily for me, while Tim does not share my love of rain, he knows how happy it makes me, and was quick to forgive my oversight.  And he lets me encourage our children to join in my excitement.  We got home and while I stood in the rain…probably with a ridiculously huge smile on my face the whole time…my kids rain around, just as giddy as me at getting thoroughly drenched.  Tim even came outside with Ava for a couple minutes…and if her smile was any indication, I think she will soon be a happy adherent to the lets-go-outside-because-it’s-pouring way of thinking.

And maybe, years from now, my kids will be thirty-somethings elatedly standing in the rain with their own little ones running around.  I guess it probably seems silly, but that thought makes me happy.

My constant prayer lately is that I would see God clearly.  Life can make that hard sometimes.  Really, life can make that hard just about anytime, but I guess maybe I just realize it more when the disparity between seeing Him and not seeing Him is greater.  Too often, I look to circumstances and people for answers, for hope, for whatever it is I think I need.

But, as He is wont to do when there is a lesson I need to learn, God has been bombarding me with the truth that seeing Him changes everything.  When I am prone to hopelessness, or bitterness, or fear, or discouragement, fixing my gaze on His face brings things into perspective.  I find that He is my sufficiency, and I don’t have to try to make anything else enough.  I am reminded anew of the grace and forgiveness and love that He has poured out to me in my most undeserving moments, and I recognize my need do the same for others.  I become overwhelmed by His greatness and His goodness to me, and fear melts away while hope is restored.

With such life to be found in His presence, it might seem bewildering that my gaze should be so easily drawn away, but it is.  Maybe it’s selfishness, maybe it’s wanting to be in control, maybe it’s a belief that my emotions can be trusted…probably different things at different times.  Whatever the case, though, it means that I need continual correction.  So, I pray.  And I am thankful that He faithfully draws my eyes back to Him.

The past few weeks I have been relying on Tim more than usual.  I’ve not been feeling well and Ava hasn’t been sleeping well and so this ‘weaker vessel’ has needed to be held up by stronger hands.  In all honesty, I wish it weren’t so.  I’d like to be able to say that my strength and motivation never fail me, and that our home and family run like a well-oiled machine.  My reality, however, is filled with brokenness and weariness and insufficiency.  And while, ultimately, God is the source of everything good that I need, that provision comes often through my husband.

Thirteen years ago, I didn’t really have any idea what a God-honoring marriage was supposed to look like, and I don’t think Tim did, either.  What I have learned is so much more than I can write in a blog post, but one of the biggest things is this: my husband consistently lays down his life for me, in spite of – and often because of – my failings.  I know I have said it before, but it is worth repeating: he is the best earthly example I could have of Christ’s sacrificial love.

And God designed it to be so.

It is a simple, biblical truth that I would never have understood without walking it out with my husband.  There are a lot of things about these past thirteen years that I am thankful for, but I think the very best thing will always be the way God has used my husband and our life together to help me see Him more clearly.  What an amazing gift marriage is!  What a creative God, to give us this tangible example of His extravagant love.  I am so, so blessed.