“Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.” ~ Jeremiah 32:17

Luke 1 reveals two impossible scenarios (as if one isn’t enough!):

A elderly couple, too old to reasonably think about child-rearing, but praying for it with hoarse voices just the same. And a teenage virgin, with dreams of a one-day family but no clue that the dream was about to be a reality, without the help of a husband.

When the angel appeared to Zechariah, bursting the good news that he and Elizabeth would finally receive the child they’d been praying for, Zechariah could hardly believe it. In fact, he DIDN’T. “How can I be sure of this?” he asked, wanting definitive proof that what the angel said would actually come to be (Luke 1:18).

Mary was equally as surprised by an angelic visit, overwhelmed by the favorable greeting and no doubt terrified of this glimpse of the divine right in front of her. And when he told this mere child that her virgin womb would be with child, she replied, “How will this be?” (Luke 1:34)

Do you see the difference? Both asked a question, but one did so with a thread of doubt, while the other with an unmistakable assurance of belief.

CAN? Or WILL? The first makes the impossibility the center of attention. The second declares a sovereign God to be precisely what He is: ABLE.

How will you respond to the impossible scenarios in your life? It’s the four-letter word that makes all the difference.

For years I’ve complained.

Whined. Argued. Questioned. Even pouted in a corner with a generous bottom lip turned out from time to time. I’d imagined my life simpler. Planned it up big and beautiful, absent of most every complication and hiccup, with life’s every “i” dotted and “t” crossed. But then this and that happened, interrupting my imaginings of simplicity with something far more messy.

By the way, I don’t do “messy” well. I’m much more comfortable with neat rows of “perfect” and nice stacks of “predictable.” Messy is … well, a mess.

I picture Mary as someone who longed for the simplicity of family life, as well. Taking long walks dreaming up her future, imagining the man she’d one day marry and the children she’d one day birth. But then a Messenger of Heaven came with a messy memo. And Mary’s dream of a simple life vanished before the vision of angel did.

Here’s where my similarities with Mary end. For while I chose to pout and whine, Mary resolved to accept it.

“I am the Lord’s servant … May it be to me as you have said.” ~ Luke 1:38

Though Mary experienced the privilege of giving birth to the Son of God, she never tasted the simplicity of an ordinary life. From the first moment sparks of divine life took shape in her womb, Mary faced visiting strangers, threatening kings, gossiping neighbors, questioning church leaders, whispering friends, and more responsibility than two young shoulders are equipped to carry.

“I am the Lord’s servant … May it be to me as you have said.”

Resolved worship from a submitted heart primed her for a messy life.

“Perfect” and “predictable” were no longer a part of the equation. But I doubt she viewed it as her equation at all. It was GOD’S equation to resolve, and she believed He would make the math work.

And that’s the secret to finding peace in a messy life: Allowing the Prince of Peace to dot all “i’s” and cross all “t’s.”

Even if it takes two arms and the beam of a cross.

Ahh. The perfect plan for a messy people.

I’m a mother in the process of losing her babies.

“Losing” might not be the right word, but they’re growing up and moving on. And each day that passes I feel them pulling a little further away from me. Not as anxious to jump into my arms when the school day ends. Not as likely to allow me to brush the hair away from their foreheads when I tuck them in at night. Truth is, my boys are nearly men. And my role is changing.

Let me tell you, that feels about as good as having my toenails pulled out one by one.

The problem? Although my boys are changing, my heart feels no different than it did the first day I held each one as my own. They may be teenagers, but they’re still my sweet babies. And it’s hard for these momma hands to let go.

Have you ever felt the same way?

This month, each week’s devotional will be about Mary, the mother of Jesus. As I grieve this change in my maternal role, I can’t help but think about this young mother who knew from the first day the angel appeared to her that this child she carried would never really be her own. He was destined for something both horrible and glorious. How did she love him and hold him loosely at the same time? How did she raise him knowing death would be the ultimate result? Maybe she didn’t fully understand, just as I didn’t grasp the brevity of my motherhood years. Still, how in the world did she let Him go?

Whether we’re talking babies or any other valuable gift, it’s difficult to keep a loose grip. After a week of celebrating Thanksgiving, we’re more acutely aware of all we have to be thankful for. But how tight is our hold? Could I be just as thankful if all those things evaporated tomorrow?

Living with open-handed thankfulness is a difficult discipline. But it’s a discipline Mary needed to master, and one we need to discover, as well.

What gifts do you need to cherish and release at the same time?

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

November 30, 2009   //   Devotional   //   No Comments   //  

There’s so much we don’t understand.

Several years ago, something happened in my life that seemed very much like a detour. A big, fat sign blocked my way:

“I know you thought you were going this way, but not a chance. You’re going that way now.”

Without so much as an apology, my plans were interrupted, and I got off track. Only life never found it’s way back to the original track. I’ve been living the detour ever since, which makes me feel out of sorts more often than I’d like.

But here’s a thought: what if the “detour” wasn’t a detour at all? What if my “plans interrupted” was part of the plan all along? Part of God’s hand on my life? What if the path I’m on now–the result of that detour–isn’t an accident or a mishap, but very much exactly where I’m supposed to be?

That would change everything, wouldn’t it?

Paul and friends were on their way to Asia, to a people they believed needed to hear the news about Jesus. A good plan, yes? Only their plans were interrupted big time. Road-blocked by the Holy Spirit (Acts 16:7), they literally couldn’t enter Asia. Which, if you were Paul and pals, frustrated the heck out of you.

Detoured and unable to do a darn thing about it, they moved on to this little place called Europe after a dream (Acts 16:10). That’s right, a dream, which makes a weird day even weirder. That’s when Paul and his friends met up with a group of women gathered for a riverside prayer service. And one of those women was a person by the name of Lydia, a business woman who just happened to be on a business trip the day the boys with some news came to town.

And there, after being blocked from Asia by the Spirit, guided to the outskirts of Europe by a dream, and surrounded by chicks on a beach, Paul and pals shared the news about Jesus in the midst of an enormous–and very unexpected–detour. The result? Lydia and her entire family converted, later taking the gospel deeper into another continent (Acts 16:14-15.

So. Was Europe a detour, or the plan?

Mm-hmm. I agree. Perhaps we ought start looking at some of our detours with the same kind of perspective.

Two unlikely lives intersect in Luke 8.

A father and leader of the synagogue, Jarius’ only daughter lay on the brink of death. Being well entrenched in the religious community, Jarius was certainly aware of Jesus’ disintegrating reputation with religious elite. Desperate, however, he disregarded the boiling tensions and approached the One he believed could save his 12-year-old daughter.

At the same time, surrounded by a thick crowd pressing in for their own piece of the action, Luke says an unknown woman reached through the crowd and grabbed the hem of Jesus’ garment. We aren’t told much about her; not even a name. But we know she’d been sick for as many years as Jarius’ daughter had been alive. Weary of searching for answers from the outskirts of society without result, she approached Jesus as her own last resort.

A named religious leader. And an nameless social outcast. One with 12 years of joy about to be taken away. And another with 12 years of suffering begging for relief. And at that moment, two unknown, broken lives crossed at an unlikely intersection: the feet of Jesus.

When living divides us, our brokenness unites us. It is when the walls come down and our status dissolves that we find commonality at the feet of Jesus. Named or nameless, we come empty handed, holding out for hope.

Both fell under the shadow of Jesus’ hem. Jewish leaders typically wore twisted, blue tassels on the hem of their garment. Called the “wings,” they served as reminders of God’s commands and the need to follow Him without fail. Jesus’ cloak likely displayed the same tassels. The woman reached for them, and Jairus fell underneath them.

When’s the last time you fell to your knees and reached for the hem of His garment? When’s the last time nothing else seemed to matter aside from catching a glimpse of the One who could save? When’s the last time you were desperate to touch the righteousness of God?

“Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.” ~ Psalm 17:8

“May you be richly rewarded by the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” ~ Ruth 2:12

“But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings … ” ~ Malachi 4:2

October 19, 2009   //   Devotional   //   No Comments   //  

There are times when I’m convinced two women have set up shop in my head.

The first one probably came up with the idea and put herself in charge of the move into Michele-land. She’s industrious and determined, albeit bossy. She’s the one to call when a committee needs forming and a nursery needs staffing. A mile-long to-do list turns into a been-done list in no time flat when she’s in command. She herds children better than any sheep dog and keeps the man of the house on his toes. She’s read through the Bible at least three times, finishing in precisely 365 days (except for that one leap year) and holds fellow Bible study members accountable to their homework. Small group is hosted in her home each week and she proudly sets her homemade pastries down beside all the canned imitations on Easter Sunday. If ever I’m tempted to pat myself on the back for a day’s hard work, she smirks and looks down her make-upped nose with a knowing shake of the head: no one, and I mean NO ONE works harder than Martha. The only threat to her sense of accomplishment is a glimpse at the peaceful face of her sister.

Yes, while Martha is busy dusting and straightening rooms which were dusted and straightened yesterday, her sister sits on the back porch, sipping sweet tea, sniffing flowers and occasionally throwing encouragements to her busy counterpart to cop a squat. She doesn’t wear a watch and is unconcerned about the dishes heaped in the sink. Confident the dust bunnies will still be there when she returns, she escapes into a book or a devotional, oblivious to the to-do list that keeps piling higher than last week’s laundry. She is content and at peace. Hours can pass while she strains to hear God speak to her heart (and on occasion she’s been known to forget to pick up her kids). She may never make it through the entire Bible, but she can hang out on one verse until she’s dug deep into it’s various meanings. However, try as she might to savor the silence, she can never fully escape the sense of guilt that accompanies. The Proverbs 31 woman was able to do the work as well as the worship, after all. She should probably “do” something productive.

[sigh]

As I said, two women have taken residence in my head. One understands the value of hard work (Don’t forget: God established the value of work even in the Garden of Eden!). The other values the simpler, quieter moments of merely being with God, even if that means the dishes don’t get done and dinner comes out of a box (Jesus often escaped to quiet places, right?). Guilt accompanies me whether I side with Martha or Mary. Who should I emulate if I want to be like God?

I find it both interesting and telling that the tale of two sisters, Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42), is sandwiched between the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) and Jesus’ Teaching On Prayer (Luke 11:1-13). One applauds the person willing to tirelessly serve; the other weighs heavily on the value of time spent alone with God. Clearly there is something of value in both.

Mary and Martha’s story is the subject for this next month. Though we’ll study and draw differing truths over the next few weeks, I want us to keep one thing in mind: In God’s kingdom, there is a time and place for those who serve and those who sit. There is value in both work and meditation. The trick is in learning the time for each.

Time to sit at His feet.

“When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons.” ~ Mark 16:9

We both cradled a hot cup, mine filled with coffee and hers filled with tea. The conversation had taken a dive into the deep, and the warm cup felt reassuring in my hands. We were discussing church leadership, particularly a few who had fallen off their pedestals. It was a difficult discussion to have. Raised in the church, we both struggled to understand how the worst could happen. As adults who wrestled our own demons, we understood only too well that we weren’t immune to making the same kinds of mistakes. This was part of the tension hanging in our conversation. What could we do to make sure we didn’t fall to the same fate?

“I know I have to stay as close to Jesus as possible.” She said it simply, and I doubt she realized the profundity of her words. “If I take even one small step away from him, or start to get the least bit complacent, I’m a goner. I know that about myself. So, I stay close. That’s the only way I keep myself from getting into trouble.”

I can almost hear Mary of Magdala saying something similar. Simple, but life giving. Life PRESERVING. Delivered from seven demons who taunted her day and night, I believe she knew she couldn’t afford to be even inches away from Jesus. And for that reason she traveled with him, cared for his needs and the needs of those in their group, stood vigil at the cross when he died (John 19:25), and arrived early at the tomb the day he rose (John 20:1).

She understood the danger of distance.

Do you? Do I? Do we understand the risk we take when we start to get too busy for time with Jesus? Do we recognize what we expose our hearts and souls to when we aren’t filling our voids with the sweetness of Him? In the absence of Goodness, evil abounds. In the absence of Light, darkness thrives.

Don’t let either have an inch.

By the time she makes her appearance in holy pages, Anna is at least 84 years old. Some argue the text implies she’d been a widow for 84 years, making her age 100 plus. Either way, we can agree based on Luke 2:36-38 that she was well past the age of needing a little hair color.

Anna married young, as most Jewish girls, somewhere around the age of 12 or 13. By the time she was a latter teenager, however, grief knocked on her door and buried her dream in a husband’s grave. What is a 20-year-old widow to do?

For Anna, the only answer was to be a worshiper in the LORD’s temple. Day and night, whenever the temple doors were open, Anna faithfully made her way to the One who gave her life, worshiping, praying and leaning on the hope of Messiah. One husband was replaced by another, and every day became about the dream of seeing His face.

Decades later, when Anna’s presence inside the temple had become as familiar to all of Jerusalem as it’s ornate walls, her dream came true. The Messiah she long worshipped came as a baby to a woman who would never have one of her own.

Thursday I read a blog article titled “The Anna Syndrome.” Written by and for single women and referencing the story of Anna in Luke 2, the article discussed the tendency of some single women to lose themselves in the busyness of church work as an escape from the weight of their singleness. In all fairness, I must point out that I’ve seen a good share of married women doing the same thing. Whether married or single, we all attempt to assuage our loneliness in the wrong places and people at times.

Though I enjoyed the article, I disagree in that I don’t believe Anna had any kind of syndrome. There is a big difference between finding comfort in God’s presence and seeking escape in constant church activity. I don’t see Anna signing up for every temple committee, making kosher casseroles, knitting lap quilts, or volunteering for the temple tiny tots nursery program.

She is worshiping. Singing. Praying. Preaching. She is a woman who has found completeness without a man, a career or even a to-do list to keep her insulated from the grief of losing her dream before it began.

Are you an Anna who is desperate to lose herself in church activity? Or are you the Anna who wants nothing more than to lose yourself in worship?

One will leave you empty and burned out. The other will leave you full and ready for a visit from the King.

She wanted a baby more than she wanted air to breathe.

“In bitterness of soul Hannah wept much and prayed to the LORD. And she made a vow, saying, ‘O LORD Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will …’” ~ 1 Samuel 1:10-11a

The love of a husband and the blessing of provision could not numb her ache to hold a child of her own. It’s all she thought about, from the moment she awoke until the moment she finally fell into lonely sleep. In agony, she cried out to the Creator, the One she knew could make possible the impossible, hoping her willingness to beg would motivate Him to respond.

Have you ever wanted something that bad? Have you ever been so consumed with unassuaged longing that you fell to your knees, weeping and begging God to grant the request of your heart? What is your heart aching for now?

~ A husband to share your life with
~ A different job
~ Vindication for an offense
~ The camaraderie of a close friendship
~ A home
~ A dream fulfilled
~ Financial security
~ A loved one to turn their life around
~ A child to hold and call you “Mom”

I don’t know of anyone who hasn’t experienced a longing unfulfilled … or at the least deterred. And many times, when we approach the point of desperation, we attempt to negotiate with God much as Hannah did. “If you’ll only do this one thing for me, then I’ll … ” We promise the moon in the hopes of an answered prayer. Hannah did the same, but went a step further:

“‘…if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his life…’ After he was weaned she took the boy with her, young as he was … and brought him to the house of the LORD at Shiloh…’I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the LORD. For his whole life he will be given over to the LORD.’” “ ~ 1 Samuel 1:11, 24, 26-27

Once God gave her the gift she’d always wanted, she turned around and gave it right back to him. She didn’t get possessive and protective. She didn’t make a promise she had no intention of keeping. She held her boy loosely, celebrating the answer to her prayer but fulling accepting that he was a gift–God’s gift.

How about you? If God gives you a dream job, are you able to enjoy it without letting your esteem be wrapped up in it? If God provides you with a place to call home, are you able to give it right back to him, allowing him to use that home for his purposes?

There’s nothing wrong with approaching God with honestly regarding your heart’s desires. But ultimately, it’s not the fulfillment of the request, but God Himself, who you truly need. It makes sense, then, to hold on to everything else loosely.

I wrote this nearly 6 years ago — SIX! I shudder at the thought of posting it publicly, as I am certainly not a poet. However, God once used the story of Esther to help me see that perhaps the random events in my life were not nearly as random as I once thought. And it was in the midst of the struggle that I stumbled through the writing of this. May you come to know without a doubt that the God who called Esther to greatness is calling you to a throne as well.

Will you use your position for Him?

She quietly stared out the window, unsure of what to do
Her people or the fearsome king, a conflict would ensue
She faced the greatest task she’d known, a feat she’d meet alone
Except for the God of Israel, the God she’d always known

Why am I here, what can ever be the reason for this charge
I am not fit, nor qualified, this task is far too large
For a woman of my imperfections, what skills could I bring
To face this mighty ruler, I can not do a thing

But try she must she could not turn from this holy call
She must step out in faith to the God who’s over all
Come tomorrow, she’d face the king; her life might not be spared
But gentle words she heard nearby, “for this you’ve been prepared.”

What mind can ever fathom the wonder of God’s ways
Questions unanswered, confusion, uncertain numbered days
But this we know for certain, this truth we cannot miss
We were brought to this place, this hour for such a time as this

A God who knows our names and numbers every stand of hair
Could not, would not leave us alone in the midst of our despair
He has moved with rhythm, purpose toward a priceless end
He has brought us to this place, this hour, just steps from where we’ve been

And if today brings grief and loss, embrace the pain at hand
knowing that today’s fierce storm will dawn with light again
But if today is full of grace, much joy and dancing feet
This, too, I’ll welcome and enjoy for pain I’m sure to meet

Each experience, grief and joy have made a sturdy frame
and given tools and truths to use, and for our hearts to train
God weaves together life as threads to make a three-cord strand
One not easily broken, a life that’s sure to stand

So, no matter what today may bring, a king or fearsome foe
God knew long before you did, His seeds in you he’s sown
His truth in you invested, and his power in you to spare
There is nothing that can change the fact, for this you’ve been prepared

What mind can ever fathom the wonder of God’s ways
Questions unanswered, confusion, uncertain numbered days
But this I know for certain, this truth I cannot miss
I was brought to this place, this hour for such a time as this.

~ Michele Cushatt, November 11, 2003

I’m asking you to do two things.

FIRST, if you haven’t already, please read the entire book of Ruth. It’s a short, boasting only 4 brief chapters. It will take about a half hour and it’s worth much more than that.

SECOND, check out this map.

There’s several important things I want you to notice. First, Naomi came from Bethlehem, which means “House of Bread.” Bethlehem was near Jerusalem, the heart of Israel and the substance of God’s promise for his people. Because of a famine, Naomi and her family left their place of promise to find sustenance elsewhere. They ended up in Moab, where Ruth, the Moabitess, entered the picture. After the rest of the family died and was buried, Naomi and Ruth faced a huge decision: stay in the foreign country of Moab OR return to the place of promise, to Bethlehem, their “house of bread” and the place of God’s fulfillment of His covenant. However, a dead sea sat between their current predicament and the place where God wanted to make their wildest dreams come true.

As in every good story, the main characters are faced with a life-changing decision. Embark on a long journey around a dead sea to pursue the only true God, or stay rooted where is predictable and comfortable. Naomi determined to return to her “house of bread.” Ruth, showing wisdom and a heart longing for God, resolutely followed her mother-in-law’s footsteps.

The result? Both of them found redemption and new life far behind their wildest dreams.

The wealth of application in the book of Ruth is so rich I hardly know where to begin. The reality is you will face your own times of famine, some of which may end up taking you to place that’s entirely foreign, full of disappointment and loss. When you find yourself in that place, with a vast dead sea between you and your place of promise, I want you to remember one thing: It doesn’t have to be the end of the story. You can allow seasons of famine to lead you back to your “house of bread”. How?

1. Resolute Pursuit: Ruth would not be dissuaded. She knew and believed in the God of Israel, and she was willing to abandon everything familiar in pursuit of him.
2. Empty-handed Approach: Ruth also understood she came with nothing to offer. No husband, no heritage, no materialistic wealth. With hands wide open to God’s plan for her life, she approached the future expectant, hopeful and with humility.
3. Audacious Appeal: Like Ruth’s marriage proposition at the feet of Boaz, are you willing to lay yourself at the feet of your Redeemer? Are you willing to risk everything for the sweetness of a redeemed life?

Despite any dead seas standing in your path, beautiful future waits for you in the Land of Promise.

For those who think both God and his Bible are anti-women, I can’t wait for you to experience a dose of truth over the next several posts at The Intersection. God not only loves women, he specifically chose two of the most ordinary to become key characters in His greatest plot. In fact, two entire books of the Bible are devoted to the telling of their stories. The “commoner-to-queen” story is reserved for June. For the month of May, we’re reading the incredible journey of a woman named Ruth.

The book of Ruth opens with these words:

“In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine n the land…” ~ Ruth 1:1

Think about this for a minute: The beginning of every great story is often marked by a great crisis. We’ll get to the greatness of Ruth’s story later, but I don’t want you to miss the importance of verse 1. The catalyst to Ruth’s involvement in God’s epic story was a famine. A famine that drove a family of four from Israel to the foreign land of Moab to try and find food. It was the difficult that gave birth to the incredible.

So often we want to the wonder of a great story without experiencing any hardship or discomfort. We want the glory without the pain, the reward without the effort, the deliverance without the experience of slavery.

I’m not sure if Ruth ever wondered the same thing, but she was in for a huge dose of it just the same. If you aren’t familiar with Ruth’s story, you’re in for an adventure. It’s a good one, full of grief and hope, loss and renewal. And a happily-ever-after ending you couldn’t dream up even if you tried.

But when we get to the end, after all the conflicts are resolved and heartache absolved, and when the words “…and they lived happily ever after” are stamped on the last page, I want you to remember one thing:

The story of her most beautiful adventure began with a famine.

Don’t be surprised if yours does, too.

Two women with the name “Tamar” are recorded in the Old Testament. Krista talked about the first in last week’s post. The second is King David’s daughter, Tamar, and her story is recorded in 2 Samuel 13.

Little information is disclosed about this girl other than the fact she was beautiful (2 Sam. 13:1), a virgin (2 Sam. 13:2), and she had a brother named Absalom. She also had a half-brother, Ammon, who held less than honorable intentions toward her. With the help of a conniving friend and a little shameless deception, Ammon gets Tamar alone and steals both her virginity and her dignity, despite all her protests. It doesn’t take long for his former lust to morph into hate. Despising her more than he loved her, Amnon disposes of Tamar like the leftovers of a fast food meal. Her tears for a restoration of honor could not soften the hardened heart of Amnon.

Though I despise Amnon’s cruelty, I’m even more upset by Tamar’s family’s lack of response. Absalom was, at the very least, insensitive when he said, “Be quiet now, my sister … Don’t take this thing to heart.” (vs. 20) Though verse 21 claims King David was a furious father, the years following were void of any response. All we know is that Tamar lived out the rest of her days “in her brother Absalom’s house, a desolate woman.” (vs. 20)

I’ve listened to countless modern-day Tamar stories, men, women and children who have endured horrible wrongs, only for their suffering to be prolonged by a complete lack of justice or response from those who could do something about it. Many of these broken people live consumed by grief, jailed in their own house of desolation.

It will not always be so.

Today is Easter. And though the Easter story is all about grace, mercy, redemption, and love, it is also about justice. The only reason Jesus had to die is because the horror of sin needed to be brought to justice. Sins like Amnon’s abuse and David’s silence demand a response from the Father of heaven. Jesus gave his life so we would know that, regardless of how dark and desolate life may seem, justice will be had. Honor will be restored. And never again will a broken heart need to live desolate in a borrowed house.

He’s made sure of it.

“Strengthen feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.’” ~Isaiah 35:3-4

“It is finished.” ~ John 19:30

Tamar, dear woman, He’s coming for you.

I like Rachel. She’s strong, clever, resourceful, and not lacking in initiative. A woman who can stand on her own two feet and navigate life’s different obstacles with grace and fortitude. Rachel does this from our first meeting in Genesis 24, and she’s earned my respect and admiration. However, with every strength there is an associate weakness. And Rebekah is no exception.

“Now Rebekah was listening as Isaac spoke to his son Esau. When Esau left for the open country to hunt game and bring it back, Rebekah said to her son Jacob, ‘Look, I overheard your father say to your brother Esau … Now, my son, listen carefully and do what I tell you…’”

Resourceful, yes. And sneaky. I don’t know if you noticed, but check out how Rebekah referred to the three most important people in her life:

Esau: “… your brother”
Isaac: “… your father”
Jacob: “… my son”

Initiative without sincere love and respect for others can turn into a human bulldozer. Once Rebekah stopped being concerned for the other two men in her life, she justified manipulating them in order to accomplish her plans for the third. Her little way of helping God along with His plan. As if. It made quite a mess, damaging multiple relationships in the process. All because allowing initiative to run rampant without restraint.

What in the world does this have to do with us? Well, ever found yourself taking matters into your own hands, maybe even bull-dozing through a few people, in order to get to a desired end goal? I HAVE. Too many times to count. My initiative showed love for self, but lacked a little gentle loving for the others involved. My eyes were so narrowly focused I remained unaware and unconcerned with the real people around me.

Go ahead. Have some initiative. Show resourcefulness. Be a strong, determined, get-things-done kind of woman. But do it without tearing up the landscape in the process.

“Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control.” ~ Proverbs 25:28

Leah’s story always breaks my heart (Genesis 29, 30).

When the LORD saw that Leah was not loved, he opened her womb, but Rachel was barren. Leah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, “It is because the LORD has seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now.” ~ Genesis 29:31-32

To her deep grief, he surely didn’t. Not with the birth of Reuben. Or Simeon. Or Levi. Or even Judah. No matter the number of children Leah birthed, her husband’s love stayed cold, already poured out on another. Leah daily bore the sting of rejection, her arms full of children, but her heart empty of the love she’d always wanted.

Women do crazy things for love. Yes, even birth children. Desperate, we’ll go to great lengths to try and be worthy, and then hold our breath and whisper, “Surely he (she) will love me now…” How far will you go for a little love?

Change your appearance?
Move?
Leave your husband and kids?
Work extra long hours?
Avoid difficult parenting decisions?
Entertain a dangerous relationship?
Avoid conflict at great cost?
Drown in ministry?
Starve yourself?
Read romance novels?
Sign up for every volunteer opp?
Hang out in dark corners of the Internet?

I bet the list could keep going for pages. But that’s not the point. The point is we want to be loved. Every last one of us. The problem lies not in our need, but in the path we traverse to meet it. We’re created by a God who longs to have connection with us. Unfathomable, I know, but no less true. He made us to commune with Him, in an intimate, beautiful, profound and indescribable relationship, to which nothing else on Earth will ever compare.

It’s okay. Go ahead and let yourself be a little desperate for love. His love. And when all other voices tempt you with their empty promises of satisfaction, instead allow your heart’s ache pull you into His perfectly safe embrace.

He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart. ~ Isaiah 40:11

March 1, 2009   //   Devotional   //   3 Comments   //   Tags: Leah, Love