EMBOLDENED

EMBOLDENED

Category: The Great I Am

the Father is waiting

October 31st, 2024

Richard Foster wrote a book on prayer and I’ve worn one of its pages thin since reading it for the first time.

He wrote, today the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.

And he is inviting you – and me – to come home, to come home to where we belong, to come home to that for which we were created. His arms are stretched out wide to receive us. His heart is enlarged to take us in. For too long we have been in a far country: a country of noise and hurry and crowds, a country of climb and push and shove, a country of frustration and fear and intimidation. And he welcomes us home: home to serenity and peace and joy, home to friendship and fellowship and openness, home to intimacy and acceptance and affirmation. We do not need to be shy.

Foster takes the truths that swim around our minds – but never pierce our hearts – and reawakens our souls to them. He takes us along the 18 inch journey, from head to heart, so we can better grasp the gift of communion. To know the wonder and depth of God’s love that compelled Him to send His son for you, and for me. To see the path, which now lay before us, that leads us home.

Reading this got me thinking, how many of us carry wounds that tell the tales of unloveableness, unworthiness, and indignity? How many of us walk around maintaining the proper head knowledge, but still ache from a bleeding heart? How many of us could recite the gospel story and not live according to its radical truths because the raw and awestruck wonder of Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection is stuck in hibernation? How many of our souls are wandering the Valley of Dry Bones, waiting for God’s Spirit to breathe new life into us? None of us are immune to living half awake at one time or another.

In light of your current afflictions and wanderings: when you think about God, what emotions sweep over you? Do His arms feel like a welcome place to be? Are you eager to open up the doors and the windows of your heart, or do you anxiously shut the blinds, afraid of what might happen if He sees you as you are?

In Colossians, it says that the Lord was pleased to dwell in the body of Jesus. Now, through the Holy Spirit, God dwells within each of us. This is a place God would not go if He were not willing and able. Because of this, His presence is nearer than the air we breathe. He is but a weary exhale, or a joy-filled cry away. He is not far. He is ever near. This is wonderful news.

Home is just around the corner.

And He is waiting for you and me to come and rest our heads in His arms – where we belong.

We need not be afraid. We need not run and hide. We need not turn to noise and hurry and frustration and fear to build up walls of protection. We need not be saved from God, but by Him. God is good and loving and kind – He goes before us and hems us in from behind. His home is flooded with peace, joy, acceptance, and freedom; it, too, has many rooms, with space enough for each of us to lay our weary heads.

When you think about God, I pray feelings of relief, safety, rest, peace, and joy come to mind. I pray the reality of His kingdom, and your place in it, falls afresh upon your lovesick heart. I pray God’s spirit would awaken your soul to the riches of His love for you.

God is waiting for us to call on Him, to run into His arms like a child falling into the arms of a parent, because His heart swells with love and eagerness as He thinks of us.

So much so, that God sent His one and only son into the world to take our place, so that we could die to sin and live for righteousness. On the cross, Jesus became our Great Mediator, and made a way for us to come home again. Because of love, He made a way. For you and for me. For our best days and our worst days, Jesus made a way. Thanks be to God.

Do Not Hesitate

How do we respond, then, to a love like that? One that carried the weight of humanity’s brokenness for all of time? We return. We set our foot along the paths that draw us home. We do not hesitate.

We run to the Father, and we waste no time. We pack our bags, leaving nothing behind – not our worries or our fears or our obsessions with muchness or manyness – and head down the path that leads to the presence because the Father is waiting. For you and for me. He is waiting to show us the fullness of life He always hoped for us to have. He is waiting to heal our wounds, and show us that He is present with us in our sufferings.

Often, we only talk about coming home for the first time. We rejoice over stories of prodigal sons and daughters returning to home to God after seasons of choosing other loves. God delights as every one of His kids wander along the beaten path, toward His house. He rejoices when His children run to Him to celebrate, to weep, to dance, and to mourn. He loves spending time with us. He loves when He sees us coming from a mile away. He loves when we run to Him. He loves when we turn to Him in our sorrows and our joys.

God longs for our presence, no matter how short or how long it’s been.

Come to the Father

This goes, too, for the ones who talk to Him, but not frequently. Who are hiding away, though they desperately need someone to talk to. Who have prayers they’re too afraid to speak out loud or write in a journal (the Father knows them all). Who need a miracle but aren’t so sure that God would waste one on them. This goes, too, for those who talk to God, but only when they need something. Who feel on fire for Jesus until they have to walk through it.

Jesus is for everyone.

His arms are open wide to receive us, no matter where we find ourselves. No matter whether we’re wrestling with grief or shame or lust or depression or worldly temptations. God welcomes us home with warmth and openness – with an invitation that never expires – to sit at His table and enjoy a moment with Him. We need not be shy. Our Father’s heart is good and it is pure. He wants the best for us.

His best is what only He can give you. He wants to take you to higher heights and deeper depths.

So, you, dear Beloved – who think God is mad at you,

You, who fear the terror of the night,

You, who are weary and burdened,

You, who think you do not need God,

You, who love Jesus but think he’s disappointed in you,

You, who fear you’ve gone too far to be forgiven again,

You, who think it’s been too long and these truths no longer apply to you because of what you’ve done –

your invitation has not expired.

Come to the Father.

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Come and see His goodness in the land of the living.

Open up the windows of your soul, and the door of your heart. Find rest for your weary soul, through the unforced rhythms of grace bought for us with the blood and the body of Jesus.

Come to the Father.

Receive His love today.
Is God Compassionate?

July 14th, 2024

So, is God compassionate? I used to wonder.

When I was younger, a few experiences culminated to become my understanding of who God was. However lopsided it ended up being, these experiences informed my decisions about whether I wanted to know Him. When I was younger, I believed God was angry (at me) and vengeful (toward me), imposing expectations that I could never meet but would only leave Him disappointed. I thought His love was conditional, half-hearted, given to some and withheld from others. I believed I was the latter. Sufficient to say, at the time, I didn’t want to follow Him. I didn’t want to take time to get to know Him.

For those of us who didn’t grow up with an accurate view of God, there’s a lot to sift through. There’s what we’ve been told. What we’ve observed. What we’ve experienced. It can be hard to make sense of it all.

Along the way, there were a few people I met who shined with the radiance of Jesus. I couldn’t articulate it back then, but seeing the way they lived and the way they loved, I noticed they had something that I didn’t (and that I wanted).

Over time, I began to wonder if that “thing” had anything to do with their faith. It seemed confusing. How could their God, who they claimed to be good, be the same one who had forsaken me? How could the God who turned me inward on myself in shame and bitterness make them soft and kind?

I thought it was too late for me, fate sealed. I thought I had strayed too far. What did it even mean to follow Jesus anyway? I thought I was never His, so how could I be now? I thought, I thought, I thought.

In college, I found myself in a season of searching and wrestling and trying to find. Of believing one thing and wanting to believe another. I was afraid to believe in the goodness of God because what if what if what if?

What if they’re wrong?

What if He lets me down?

What if He doesn’t turn out to be who He says He is?

What if He isn’t actually good? What if He is, but I’m not good enough?

What if He changes His mind?

…

These fears (lies) flooded my mind as I tried to bridge the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be. I wanted to believe God was good, loving, kind, just, merciful, compassionate, and all the other things He has claimed to be. But, all these statements and promises were clashing with what I believed to be true all the prior years of my life.

I didn’t know how to reconcile the space between.

I still thought God was quick with His anger, instead of slow to it. I thought I was being punished. That if God was out there, He wasn’t good. Or that if He was, I wasn’t good enough.

Our thought lives are powerful. Not always are they honest.

…

Seek & You Will Find

In my season of searching, I heard someone repeat that scripture back to me that says if you seek, you’ll find. I wanted to find him. I wanted to know once and for all what He was like, and whether He was someone I wanted to know. I wanted to know who was right: me, or them?

So, I started reading the gospels. If there was someone who was love embodied, I thought, I want to know him.

Maybe it was any other gloomy Tuesday of my freshmen year of college, nestled in the corner spot of my favorite coffee shop in Seattle’s U District, or maybe I was somewhere else. I can’t recall the exact place where this story began to unfold, but I do remember the feeling of opening the Bible the first few times.

I remember how vulnerable it was, considering the possibility that God was indeed beautiful and loving and kind.

As my eyes poured across the pages of Matthew and Mark and Luke and John, I came to see Jesus. The one who made God known. The miracles he performed, the way he was patient with those who followed him, the way he drew near to the outcasts and the sinners. The forsaken ones. Those who’d been left behind – they weren’t forgotten by Jesus. They were the very ones he came for. I discovered Jesus and his heart in the way he lingered in the presence of those who were hurting. The truth he would speak over their identity and their situation. The hope he would bring. Every time, people left these encounters with him forever changed.

Blind men, now seeing.

Lame men, now walking.

Deaf and mute, now speaking.

Brokenhearted people, whole again.

…

The Lord, The Lord, Compassionate & Merciful

The observations that turned my lopsided view of God upright again were the accounts of his heart in action where I could witness his wholehearted compassion for the weary and heavy-laden ones. All throughout the pages of the bible, God’s compassion is on display. It articulates the depths of his heart, and contextualizes the love you find in it when you see how this mercy manifested compels him toward the hurting and the broken. It’s the thing that moves him, the thing that moves us.

In Exodus 34:6-7, as the Lord passes before Moses and tells him who He is, the first thing He says about Himself is that He’s compassionate. One of the first things God wants us to know about Him is that He is deeply stirred by our cries for help. From the greatest depths of God’s being, He is merciful and compassionate. It is in fact His first posture toward us – this is what Exodus 34 teaches us. That doesn’t mean He’s soft on sin, or that He isn’t holy.

But God’s heart is His heart. It speaks for itself.

This Hebrew word, rakhum, appears in Exodus 34 and in 45 other Old Testament scriptures. It is the word we translate as compassion, tender love, and mercy. It’s an emotional one, sometimes even translated as deeply stirred because it prompts a response from the greatest depths of God. Rakhum is also closely tied to the Hebrew word for womb: rekhem, suggesting that God’s compassion for His children is like that of a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15-16). In Psalm 103:13-14, it says Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him. For he himself knows our frame; he is mindful that we are but dust.

In the New Testament, there are two words in Greek that are used to describe Christ’s compassion: oiktirmos and slpagchnon. “The first refers to actions of compassion or pity, and the second refers to your guts…tied into the idea of the womb” (Bible Project). This is the thing about Jesus that softened my heart because it was the very thing I was wrong about. This was not the God I thought I knew. This was a God who was kind, slow to anger, and compelled by mercy.

I had never been so glad for being wrong.

The Greek word splagchnizomai is used 12 times. When the multitudes come together to hear Jesus teach, when two blind men cry out begging for Jesus’ mercy, when parents of sick and lost children weep, when a prodigal son returns home to his father’s house – this is the word used to describe Christ’s response.

He has compassion. He is moved to respond to our vulnerability by teaching, healing, seeing, and restoring. He recognizes our vulnerabilities, and it draws him toward us in love.

…

Compassion Comes From the Gut

Compassion is something you feel in the greatest depths of you, that you can’t help but feel as you see someone in a vulnerable position. It wells up in us as our heart breaks, as we grieve, as we see someone we love go through tragedy or illness. Compassion is the thing inside of us that makes us ache for God’s kingdom to come. That makes us cry out at the brokenness and pain in this world thinking, this is not how it was supposed to be.

When innocent life is lost. When dignity is stolen from image-bearers. When addiction ravages the life of people we love. When anxiety and depression and suicidal thoughts try to steal the joy from our brothers and sisters. Compassion overflows as we confront the reality of living in a fallen and broken world, thinking this is not how it was supposed to be.

When we respond with compassion and mercy, we are emulating Christ, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. We are becoming wounded healers, in Jesus’ name, allowing his kingdom to come through us. And yet, 80% of the time these words, meaning compassionate, explain a person, that person is God.

This is what flows from His heart. This is what He means when He says He is Love. His is a posture inclined toward the cries of His children, not away. Knowing this helps us remember who He is, so that we can be confident as we approach God’s throne of grace. Why?

Because we know the One who sits upon it. We know the One who is listening. We know that He is deeply stirred by our prayers and by our praises.

When God says He’s compassionate, He means that He remembers us. He is turned toward us. He is deeply stirred by the songs of our heart and the cries of our soul.

When you think of God, is compassionate something that comes to mind?

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Like Sheep Without a Shepherd

As Jesus and his disciples gather together after a long period of going out and healing people, casting out demons, baptizing people, etc, Jesus suggests they go to a solitary place for a while to recover. He leads his followers into a boat. They cast away, and upon reaching the other shore, heaps of people stand there, waiting for them. They came running when they heard where Jesus would be. Despite their tired eyes, and instead of telling the crowds to come back later when Jesus and his disciples were all more rested, Jesus had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd (Mark 6:34).

He gathered them together, and tended to their needs.

After that, Jesus went on to perform the great miracle of feeding the five thousand with just five loaves and two fish. When Jesus sees desperation, passion, hunger and thirst for what he has to offer, and when he sees people seeking him out in faith, he honors that. He never leaves us empty handed.

Upon seeing the multitudes that day, Jesus responded in the way he always has and always will. He faithfully taught and healed and restored and provided. Like a father to his son, the Lord has compassion on those who fear him. So it was with them. So it is with us.

Christ recognizes weary souls, and it moves him to act. Not just that one time, or two or three or four, but every single time.

…

Christ Enters Into Our Suffering

The greatest depiction of God’s compassion is Christ entering in to bear our sin and suffering, so that we could have a great high priest who is able to empathize with our weaknesses, tempted in every way yet did not sin, who leans in with grace and mercy in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16).

He chose not to escape death, but to defeat it, so that we may know once and for all ours is a God who draws near. Who enters in. Who is not afraid of our pain and our honesty, but knows the very depths of it. The cross is the final display of Christ’s compassion, the memory of which we can call upon in our greatest need.

Compassion kept Jesus on the cross that day.

In our desperation, God is moved toward us with lovingkindness. Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection is evidence of this. God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). In all Christ’s holiness, purity, and perfection, it would seem our sin and brokenness would repel Jesus, but it’s actually the very thing that draws him close. He can’t help but draw near to us in the name of restoring and redeeming all things back under His authority, power, and dominion here on earth.

As you read through the gospels, time and time again you see Jesus drawing near to those in need. It’s his very nature to see, touch, hear, heal, and restore weary and wandering souls. Where we would expect him to turn away in disgust at humanity’s uncleanness, impurity, and unholiness, and sin, instead we see him draw near so his holiness can flow to us.

Instead of dirtying him, He makes us clean and whole again.

…

Throughout the gospels, we witness the very depth of Christ’s heart. His compassion. His mercy. His healing power. His holiness. His purity. His beauty.

Those years ago, sitting in a coffee shop on a rainy Seattle day, in the bedroom of my sorority house, or somewhere else in my little corner of the world, getting to know Jesus only made me want to know him deeper. I caught a glimpse of his heart and his character, and it made me come undone. Somehow, I knew in those months I was only scratching the surface. I realized there wasn’t anything I had to offer the Lord that made me worthy, other than to simply recognize my need and how He could fill it.

So, I cried out to Him and prayed to Him and He listened. He was moved by the cries of my heart, and I was moved by His gentleness and lovingkindness toward me.

My question how could it be? turned into a praise be because I finally saw the One who saw me.

I finally believed He was who He said He was. I believed He was compassionate, merciful, gentle, kind, just, filled with grace, and so much more. This changed everything.

Since then, I’ve learned the narrow way is much the same in the end as it is in the beginning. We seek and we find and we do that over and over again, so that we may love Him and honor Him and follow Him and know Him deeper. We spend our whole lives fighting the urge to forget, and instead to remember who He is and how He’s been faithful. To remember, even as guilt and shame try to write a different story, that God has compassion for His children.

…

Same God Then. Same Heart Now.

The same heart that drew near to the hurting and brokenness of the lepers, the deaf, the mute, the blind, the adulterers, the drunks, the bitter and the hard of heart beats for you and me. That heart transforms us. It keeps us. It carries us. It anchors us.

Out of that heart, Christ’s heart, flows compassion and mercy to all who are weary and heavy-laden.

I was a sheep without a shepherd. I was lost, but then I was found.

This is the testimony of the five thousand, the prodigal son, the Samaritan woman at the well.

This is my testimony. And it’s yours, too.

…

In Jeremiah 29, after God declares He has a plan to prosper His people and not to harm them, to give them a hope and a future, He too declares that as we call upon Him and come and pray to Him, He will hear us. He will listen.

Be encouraged. To be a recipient of God’s compassion is to be a weary soul in this broken and hurting world. There’s no earning it, or deserving it. There’s no making sense of it. God simply would not be God without it.

Trust that when you call upon God and you come and pray to Him, He will listen. He will hear you. This doesn’t mean God will always answer in the way you expect or hope He would. In James 1, it’s clear that He responds when we act in faith. But, what this does mean is we are never left empty handed.

When we peel back the layers of Jesus, we find love. We find compassion. We find mercy. We find patience in anger. We find a hunger for justice, restoration, peace, and wholeness. We find a deep desire for relationship and intimacy with His children. Remember that God so loved the world that He sent His son.

Because of love, Christ draws near. He moves toward us. He is not afraid of our sin and brokenness, but he does want more for us than our worst mistakes and deepest sorrows. This is why he heals, restores, touches, and reaches out to the weary and the broken. He wants to make us whole again. To be clean. Restored. Renewed. Healed. Filled with hope and peace.

It is the deep stirring of compassion that compels Him to act in the first place. To approach the woman who’s being accused of adultery, about to be stoned to death. To stop along the long journey in a busy crowd to restore the sight of two blind men. To see the desperation in the eyes of afraid mothers and fathers as their children lay upon their death beds and choose to heal them.

Compassion opens the door to the miracle.

It wells up from the deepest parts of Christ, and inclines him to respond. To open the door. To stop in the crowd. To speak. To listen. To hear. To see. To restore.

So, be encouraged. Christ’s natural disposition toward you is mercy. Whether or not you believe that, it’s true.

You have not strayed too far. You have not made too many mistakes.

It has not been too long. Your fate has not been sealed.

Whether it’s been 2 minutes or 12 years, the invitation is the same.

Come to him. Call upon him. He hears you.

Christ’s heart is his heart.

You can’t taint it. You can’t change it. But he can change you.
The Father’s Heart

June 18th, 2024
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. Isaiah 43:1

The Father’s Heart

As I’ve sat down to write these last two weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the depth of love that flows from the Father’s heart. Someone told me last week that when he sees me lead worship, he sees the light of the father shining down on me. It got me thinking about what it means that God is a Father to us – and how wonderful it is that His love flows through us.

I’ve lived without knowing this love longer than I’ve carried the assurance of it, and the memory of searching and longing and waiting and wandering for a love that could actually heal the deepest pains in me lingers at the forefront of my mind. Not to dwell on it, but to remember the power of the gospel. To remember the why behind the way I live, the way I love, the way I speak. As believers, the gospel is the wind behind our sails. The purpose for everything we do, big and small.

Knowing the Father’s heart – living in constant remembrance of who He is and what Jesus did for us – reminds us of the meaning behind this life we’ve been given. There are so many people who live without realizing the love of the Father is shining down on them. Being lost, and now being found, I’ve realized there is greater depth here in the presence of Jesus than anywhere else. Greater love, greater peace, greater joy (sometimes greater grief and sorrow too). There is greater purpose and meaning here than any other path I’ve found myself on.

It wasn’t until I began to catch glimpses of the reality of God’s love, mercy, grace, and kindness, that I began to grasp His true character. I had a lot of assumptions and ideas about God, but I didn’t actually know Him. As I began to open my heart to discover who God is at His core, I started to see His goodness for myself. My heart softened to the possibility that He was in fact a Good Father, and once I accepted that truth, all the other pieces fell into place for me.

The father-heart of God sits at the center of His being. What pleases Him, and what grieves Him. What moves Him with compassion, what He yearns for. What angers Him. All of of these divine attributes of God come from the outpouring of love and tenderheartedness from His Father-heart. His faithfulness, His hunger for justice, His grace and mercy in our time of need, His provision, His protection, His delight, His righteous anger – they flow from the heart of fatherhood in perfection.

I know associating the title Father with God can stir up painful memories and disappointments for some. I know it can feel hard to reconcile God’s expression of fatherhood if our earthly dad have let us down. If that’s you, I hope you’ll keep reading. That wrestle is a part of my story, too, and I can attest that out of all the things God is, His fatherhood is what rescued me. It delivered me then, and it anchors me now. In fact, being loved perfectly by God helped restore my relationship with my dad too. This doesn’t take away the real pain fragmented relationships can bring, nor does it just magically erase it all from our stories (nor should it). I do believe God can use our deepest heartache for His good and for His glory.

So if that’s your story, for now, my prayer is that your heart would be open to receive God’s perfect love which casts out fear. That you would know His promise of nearness, with you every step of the way, even as you wrestle with what it means that God is a Father.

…

Knowing God

God is many things, and there can be no conflict among Him. While we can think of His divine attributes separately, none belong separated from His unitary being. If we are to make sense of His heartbeat, if we are to recognize when things are aligned with His will, I do believe we must know Him as a Father. From this place, He loves, guides, corrects, and rebukes.

From the outpouring of His fatherly love, we’re able to extend mercy, forgiveness, and loving kindness to those who have let us down because it’s what we receive from Him. When we are gifted something we never deserved, mercy and grace more naturally flow from our hearts to those around us because it doesn’t start with us. I tried to do this without God for years – to forgive, to be understanding and merciful – and fell short every single time. God meets us in our time of need, encouraging us to approach his throne of grace with the confidence that his Word never comes back void. This is true even as we seek to grasp His character as our Heavenly Father. We love because he first loved us. We forgive because he first forgave us.

As I’ve been thinking about the father-heart of God, my mind kept wandering back to a memory of a worship night a few years back. It feels like one of my stories of rescue, taking place before I decided to give Jesus my life. This night held a pinnacle moment, one where the winds changed, and my sails were swept homeward.

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You Are Mine

Early on in my walk with the Lord, I was at a worship night with some friends. While these nights had previously been so refreshing and encouraging, there was one night in particular I was having a hard time being present. Something kept nagging at me. I remember feeling so uncomfortable, thinking maybe it was the temperature of the room or the fabric of my sweater. I couldn’t place the source of my discomfort, but almost immediately upon walking outside onto the porch to get some fresh air, I began to sob. My despair hit me like a truck.

It was a particularly rough season of life because I wasn’t speaking to my dad much. I believe both of us were doing our best, but we were struggling. We couldn’t seem to find any hope or common ground. I felt powerless in the situation, so I would just ignore the sadness as my grief came in waves. But that night, God had different plans. I felt a void in my soul so intensely, and had no idea how to remedy it. I felt a wave come over me of missing my dad, and wished for restoration in our relationship. I ached for something he could never properly provide – I longed for perfect love. Unconditional. Relentless.

Trying to make sense of God’s fatherhood was complex, something that felt hard to grasp. Like it was just out of reach and beyond my sight because of my situation. It wasn’t. I just didn’t know where to look.

At the worship night, my friend saw that I was crying and followed me outside. She began praying over me, and the words God spoke as she poured His love out still bring me comfort years later. It was one of those nights where I left knowing nothing would ever be the same.

That night, it was three simple words that made me come undone: you are mine.

A gesture of love. Unconditional, free of proving and striving and earning. Perfect love, driven by compassion and mercy and grace. The kind that casts out fear. Holy love, boundless, relentless, and unafraid of making itself known amidst our wreckage and ruin. That can only come from one Source: our Father in Heaven. I was overwhelmed by His love for me. A love we don’t deserve, that we could never earn, but that we have because we are His Beloved.

You. Are. Mine.

Those words pushed forth through every wall I erected in the name of self-protection and preservation. And I believed Him. My walls were no longer necessary because I finally saw that in the Lord’s presence, I was safe. My lot was held secure. I had an inheritance because of Jesus, and because of the mercy of the cross, I was now invited to sit at the table of the Lord Most High. To be a daughter of the King. God was my refuge and my fortress, and if I sought Him with my whole heart, I would indeed find Him. He was with me through the rivers and the fire and the waters. He still is. And He is with you too.

But now, this is what the Lord says – he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

Isaiah 43:1-2

…

Fatherhood in Perfection

Being the Lord’s filled a void I didn’t know was even there. I didn’t realize how deep the longing in me was to belong, and I couldn’t articulate the aching need within me until I stumbled upon the goodness of God. Many times, it feels more like being jolted awake than finding Him by happenstance, but I finally recognized what I was missing when I found the One who could make me whole. When I heard Him speak to me. When He told me I was His, and He was mine.

Through those words God spoke, I realized I was wanted. He didn’t just love me because He had to. He liked me. He delighted in me. He enjoyed my presence and the sound of my voice. He wanted to know me. He was my Father, and He was proud to call me His.

The fatherhood of God rescued me.

It’s what grounds me, and what propels me forward with boldness of faith today. The questions I had drew me in closer, rather than away, from Him once I saw He was not afraid of my doubt and fear. Embracing the invitation to call God Abba Father allowed me to see God the way He always hoped we would. To come to Him like children and to be held in the arms of a loving, perfect, Heavenly Father.

That night, in prayer, the Lord revealed His father-heart to me. He showed me the safety of His presence. The burden of His love. The comfort of His Word and His promise. I would have never been able to know God’s heart for me without knowing Him as a Father. He knows what we need before we even ask.

…

Where walls were once erected in my life, hiding me away, God swiftly removed them to make room for stones of remembrance. Trying to make sense of His title of Father was difficult at times. Grasping fatherhood in perfection felt even harder. But, I learned that I didn’t have to have it all figured out to let Him in. He is faithful to reveal Himself to us, and He is patient in the process as we seek Him. Because of our history built, and God’s faithfulness to His word, no longer do I sigh in disbelief that fatherhood is a gift. My soul rests in the awareness of God’s goodness, and the confidence that I have the light of a father shining on me. This is true for you too…Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.*

On that rainy Thursday in an echoey living room of Seattle, a house became a throne room. The Lord met me there, right where I was. I saw the pure love and faithfulness of our Heavenly Father, and it drew me deeper into His arms. I wanted to accept the invitation to be with Him, with the One who called me His. So, I gave God my heart – piece by piece – because I saw that it was safe to do so. No longer withholding my sorrow, my confusion, my despair, I welcomed the embrace of Yahweh. In a moment, everything changed. Walls came crumbling down. Lies were eradicated and replaced with one simple truth: I am His*. You are beloved to Him too. Formed and shaped with intention and intricacy in the likeness of His image. Created for unity with the Father.*

I no longer felt like I had to earn His love, or clean up for Him, or prove my worth to Him. He wanted my heart. My honesty. Jesus wanted to be my friend in the fire. He wanted me to tell Him about the fears, the pain, and the questions I had been withholding from Him as I hid myself away. He met me there, right where I was, and was patient with me.

He showed me what perfect love felt like. He showed me what He means when He calls Himself Father. A Refuge. A Fortress. My Protector. My Comforter. The Source of joy abundant and gladness not based on circumstance. He has been faithful to these divine truths ever since. In His holiness, purity, and love, He remains faithful. Even when prayers go unanswered, and I can’t see the way through, He remains faithful.

…

I know what it’s like not to know the goodness of God. To wrestle with His fatherhood. To walk this world without knowing hope eternal. But I can’t say I ever want to go back to that. Being held in the arms of a Father who loves perfectly is a place I can’t help but linger in. It’s where I feel the safest. No matter what burdens we carry, we’re all in need of this kind of love. And, God is the only one faithful to it. His presence changes everything. One day in His courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.

…

Coming Home (& Belonging There)

I remember reading and listening to messages, books, etc on God as a Father and feeling so isolated in that season where my relationship felt strained with my earthly dad. So, if thinking about your relationship with your dad brings feelings of loss, heartbreak, grief, confusion, anger, etc, you’re not alone.

Don’t believe for a second your tense, detached, absent, or lost connection to your dad doesn’t grieve God’s heart. That the pain of your loss isn’t a moment where God is filled with compassion toward you. Family is at the center of His design for humanity. Through familial relationships, He desires to draw us into a deeper understanding of who He is. This is why He calls Himself Father, and why Ephesians says we are adopted into sonship with Christ. Family is where we’re meant to flourish. It’s where we’re meant to feel safe, nurtured, and taken care of. They’re relationships that are meant to point back to the goodness and faithfulness of God, not sow seeds of doubt and weariness. But sometimes they do, and that’s very real and very painful.

I see you. I’m with you. And so is God. Your wrestle can be worship.

…

Where Are You?

God’s fatherhood confronts some of humanity’s deepest wounds, and holds so many people back from accepting His love. I have a lot of compassion for this. I pray often that what people’s earthly fathers left to be desired becomes an avenue to encounter the One who can fill every need left void in their lives. Maybe this is a prayer for you.

It’s common to be afraid of opening our heart to Him when we’ve been let down before. When someone has broken their promise. When someone who said they loved you also showed through their actions that you weren’t valuable to them. It’s easy to lose faith and rely on your history to gather evidence against God and His goodness if that’s your story.

But the thing about God is, He knows the woundings in our hearts and minds that make it hard for us to run to Him. And He’s not afraid of them. God knew Adam and Eve ate the fruit, and He still called out to them.

Where are you? He said. Where are you? He’s saying now.

God won’t ever make us choose Him. He’ll never force His power, love, and sovereignty onto us. He waits for us to turn our gaze toward Him and incline our ears to hear Him as He calls out. Imagine how it blesses the Father to be chosen by us amidst all the other loves we’re tempted by in this world. When most of us wander through this life never lifting up our voices to Him.

As souls hesitate and hearts stay guarded in the presence of God, I pray His willful nearness and wild love become known and break down the walls that have been erected to keep Him out. I pray God’s fatherhood softens the blow of loss and disappointment from this life. I pray the voices of fear and anxiety go quiet as the still small voice speaks life and peace, that we may come close to Him as He draws near to us.

…

God wants each of us to be in relationship with Him; He’ll never stop calling out to us in our wandering and rebellion, saying, where are you? God hopes we’ll choose him, but He waits to be wanted.

Over the last few weeks, these words keep dancing around my mind: God loves when His children come home. I feel the weight of fathers being misrepresented in this world, and us, in our hurting and brokenness, assuming that God is the same when He calls himself one. But He’s not. He is the perfect representation of a Father. He is someone who is faithful to His promise that He will never leave us, nor forsake us. And He isn’t someone who lets us go because He no longer cares. He lets us go because He cares deeply, and wants us to live in freedom (even if we decide to use our freedom in ways that do not please Him).

He is overjoyed when His kids come home, when we use our freedom to choose Him. He loves when every room in His house is full. He loves when his dinner table is filled with presence, laughter, and the chaotic buzz of tables and chairs moving in and out as his children come to his table.

The invitation is to be with God. To sit at his table. To talk, laugh, and cry with Him. To delight in Him as He delights in us. The invitation is to come home. To let our hair, and our guards, down in the Father’s house.

…

So, would you come home? Would you accept this love that is freely given through Jesus?

Calling God Father does not negate the muck you have to sift through to embrace that as something beautiful. It’s hard. It’s a pain that cuts really deep. I believe He wants to help you make sense of it all. I believe it’s something He deeply desires to help walk you through. You don’t have to do it on your own.

I believe God wants to show us what it means that He is a Father to us, going before us and hemming us in from behind. Caring for us. Guiding us. Giving us wisdom. Correcting our foolish ways, and showing us the better one. Through His church, I believes He hopes we’ll see what it means to be a part of a family.

…

How Do We Respond?

Each of us has a unique story. For some, the truth of God’s fatherhood is hard. For others, it might be a little easier to understand. No matter where we find ourselves along that journey, God is eager to meet with us and show us who He is. Because we have the freedom to choose Him (or not), we have to first say yes to Him.

We have to be willing. We have to ask. We have to seek. Only then will we find.

The good news is, this is an invitation for us every day. Whether we’ve strayed for 20 minutes or 20 years, God wants us to come back to Him.

There are so many ways to respond to the Father-heart of God, and to be active in seeing His kingdom come in this world. In our friendships. In our workplaces. In our families.

Here’s a starting place:
1. Ask.
Ask Him what it means that He is Our Father.

Hold space for your weariness, but stay soft. Allow God to do a new thing and show you the way His heart beats for you. Allow Him to show you what’s different about His heavenliness and perfection in fatherhood.

Receive His love.

Ask Him for help in being merciful toward those who have let you down. Odds are, you and them are doing your best, and we are all in need of the grace and mercy Jesus offers.

2. Surrender.
Take the hope you have, and bring it to Jesus. Ask Him to multiply it, and show you what it looks like to embrace His living hope.

Bring your questions, and your doubts. Be honest with him, and know that the ears that are listening to your cries for help see you as a son or daughter. Bring the guilt, shame, and pain you carry, and tell Him all about it.

3. Pray.
Prayer is how we find Him. So, pray as you can. Talk to Jesus like a friend, with authentic expression and candor of the thoughts and questions that linger in your heart. Tyler Staton said, The only way you can get prayer wrong is if you try to get it right.

4. Wait.
Be expectant. Believe the prayers you pray will come to pass. Trust the One who’s listening. Wait for restoration and healing – God is a Good Father, and while often the stories He weaves together turn out differently than we thought they would, reconciliation is the gospel. Believe He can use the same power to breathe new life into your family.

…

Jesus Changes Everything

Because of Jesus, we know the way to the Father. Let His presence change everything. He changes everything.

There’s a lot of things that can offer the illusion that we are separated from the love of God. We’re not. He is a God who draws near. Seek Him with your whole heart, and you will find Him.

No matter what burdens we carry, may we have the faith to believe our Father is kind.

May we seek Him with all that we have.

May we know Him for all that He is.

May we dwell in the house of the Lord for all the days of our lives, and know that He is good.

May His presence empower us to shine the light of the Father unto the lost.
Open Your Eyes

May 31st, 2024

I wonder how many of us don’t see the Lord because our eyes are closed. This is a question that came to mind as I read the second part of Hagar’s story. My prayer is that our hearts would be open to receive the fullness of Christ, and that we would begin to live fully awake.

…

Open Your Eyes

There’s a church along a winding back road in my hometown that we’d frequently pass on our way in and out of town. Often, they’d have one of those signs up where they’d put little notes and messages about God for those who raced past their entrance in hopes of sharing a little bit of eternal hope and joy with the occasional passersby. Many felt pretty cheesy to me, but one day, one of those phrases stopped me in my tracks. Your wit’s end is where you’ll find God. These words still dawn on me years later.

When I was younger, I took a lot of pride in my independence. I always figured things out on my own, refrained from asking for help, and often found myself successful in my endeavors. In a culture founded on personal freedom and meritocracy, pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s unsurprising that this is how I have learned to navigate through this world. Like somehow, you’re better off if you don’t need anything from anyone.

For many years, my achievements and my I-can-do-it-on-my-own and I-don’t-need-any-helps got me places. But as I got older, I started to realize how not-figured-out things were. How overwhelming it was to navigate it all. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was tired of doing things on my own. This is where I began to learn that reaching the end of our own will, our own strength, our own “self-sufficiency”, helps us see God’s great invitation to rely on Him. And it’s inevitable that at some point in our lives, we reach the end of ourselves. This doesn’t have to be a desperate moment, but it is something that encourages us to fix our gaze upward. While our wit’s end wanderings catalyze these revelations of dependence, living in such a way that shouts I can’t do this on my own I need you God is a way we can live every single day.

My eagerness to accept this invitation depends on the day, and on the season, but that doesn’t make it any less miraculous that God would welcome us into that kind of dependence when half the time we try to do everything in our own strength anyway. And yet, He does. He’s eager for us to see how badly we need Him. He’s waiting for us to see Him as He fixes His gaze upon us. He wants to show us who He is. His goodness. His compassion. His mercy. He wants to reveal to us the fullness of His love.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed are those who take refuge in him.

…

Dependence

Relinquishing control through surrender and positioning ourselves in a way that demands dependence is uncomfortable. Some learn this desperate reliance willingly. Others learn through necessity and trial, despite our naive attempts to resist it. Nonetheless, it’s one of the greatest gifts from God – getting to depend on Him. Why? He is the one who holds it all in the palm of His hand. He is sovereign, everlasting, and holy. This makes him a steady foundation. In James, it says, Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

I wonder what our lives would look like, the boldness and courage we would walk in, if we recognized it was a blessing (not a curse) to depend on God.

To be seen by Him.

To be known by Him.

To be loved by Him.

To recognize His presence that goes before us.

That hems us in from behind.

In the morning’s new mercies, and in the dead of night, we are encouraged to turn our eyes upon Jesus. This is a gift. Because Jesus took our place on a sinner’s cross, we get to know God. We get to have Him in our corner. We get to be in divine communion with the King of Kings, the Holiest of Holies. This is a gift, and one I find myself taking for granted.

We are invited to need God, rely on Him, and to trust Him. We are invited to loosen our grip as we face the unknown, instead allowing it to draw us deeper into God’s holy presence. We, too, are invited to leave the problem solving, number-crunching, solution-finding, let-me-just-escape-this ways behind and surrender to a God who works all things together for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Something I’ve seen in myself, and have heard in others, is a fear of relying on Jesus. Though he is the pioneer and perfecter of faith, the prince of peace, cosuffering servant, our wounded healer, dependence on Him seems exposing and vulnerable. What if He lets me down too? What if He changes His mind about me? How could someone know everything about me, everything I’ve done, and still love me? Our ability to grasp this truth doesn’t make it any less true. Who God is is not contingent upon what we believe about Him. What do you believe about Him?

Over the years, I have found it difficult to reconcile prayers not yet answered and heartbreaks not yet healed. We pray for miracles, breakthroughs, deliverance, healing, and restoration, and don’t quite know what to do with them when He doesn’t respond how we had hoped. These are the things that can make us wonder, is God good?

Have you ever asked yourself that? Or someone else? Has your unbelief been hinged on the lie that He isn’t good?

I always come back to these questions because wrapped up in knowing who God is, is also knowing who He isn’t. And often, these questions we ask sow seeds of doubt and make God into someone He isn’t. Fear, doubt, and this-is-too-good-to-be-trues mold Him and warp Him into someone who isn’t loving, kind, merciful, gentle, just, and sovereign. But God is still God whether we believe Him, understand Him, or seek Him, and He will remain the same until the end of time. He will remain good, loving, merciful, compassionate, and just. He will maintain His titles as Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Comforter, Deliverer, and Healer. He does hope you’ll see Him for who He is: someone you can depend on. Someone who does not seek to harm you, but to prosper you. Someone who desires to know you and be known by you.

…

In The Middle

What makes it hard to rely on God? What holds us back? Why do we refrain from relinquishing control and falling on our knees at Jesus’ feet, realizing he is the only place we can find true comfort, peace, and mercy in our time of need?

We get stuck somewhere in the middle of a story. Someone breaks our trust. We don’t get the job we prayed for. Life milestones don’t happen on the timeline we hoped for. We get discouraged because we make sense of our circumstance with earthly wisdom, not eternal perspective. We see what we are lacking, use it as evidence against the possibility that God really is good and loving and kind, and think that’s the end of the story. We close the book before we’ve even finished reading the chapter. But God isn’t done yet.

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about how discouraging the space between can be. The already-not-yet and the fight to keep the hope and assurance up amidst the things unseen. Maybe because that’s the season I’m in now. How do we continue to trust God when we can’t yet see the fruit of His promise? How do we hold onto our little faith when the going gets rough?

We keep reading. We allow God the final say.

This is where we really learn how much we need Him, and how safe His arms are to fall into. When we’re vulnerable, were able to see God is the One we’ve been looking for. He is the one we need.

Here again, I am reminded of Hagar because there is still more to her story; we would miss the miracle if we didn’t keep going. In Genesis 21, the story circles back to Hagar after God tells Abraham to pack a bag for her and her son, Ishmael. A year after Abraham and Sarah bear their first son, Isaac, God sees it time for Hagar and Ishmael to carry on their legacy somewhere else. After God’s angel tells Hagar to return from where she came, He tells Abraham to kick her out shortly thereafter. Why would He do that?

I imagine some reading that story thinking, How could I possibly believe in the goodness of the Lord when He let that happen? He’s not good.

Acknowledge the tension, the discomfort, the questions. And keep reading.

Can you picture it? The confusion. The hurt. The doubt. The hardness of heart. The bitterness. The feelings of betrayal. I imagine Hagar thinking, God, aren’t you the one who sees me? How could you do this? How could you let this happen?

Because she had no other choice, Hagar wandered back into the desert with her son and a small water skin in tow. As Hagar’s journey wound along the path once more, I imagine fear, mistrust, and frustration boiling up within her. Step by step, I imagine her hopelessness increase as her water grew scarce. I imagine tears flooding her eyes, soaking her flush cheeks, as she looks down at her son.

Scripture says, When the water in the skin was gone, she put the boy under one of the bushes. Then she went off and sat down about a bowshot away, for she thought, “I cannot watch the boy die.” And as she sat there, she began to sob (Genesis 21:15-16).

Consider it for a moment: the child you bore did not become a son or daughter who would inherit the kingdom, but instead was a child born according to the flesh; your child’s prophetic fate was one of rebellion and conflict, instead of God’s blessing, and there was seemingly nothing you could do to stop it.

What if this was your inheritance? What if this was your legacy? What if you were the one God told Abraham to pack a bag for?

I imagine I’d feel forsaken, forgotten, and a little (a lot) helpless. I might wonder if God cared about me at all. God isn’t afraid of our honesty, nor does He diminish our frustration and fear, but He does desire for us to believe what’s true about Him. He does hope that we would come to believe that He and His plans are good.

God directed Hagar away from the house of Abraham. Surely, He had gone before her. Surely, this couldn’t be the end of the story (it wasn’t). So it is for you and me.

Doors close. Relationships end when we thought they’d last. Someone who said they loved you wronged you. Divorce, illness, addiction, anxiety, and unanswered prayers are a part of many of our stories. Surely, our moments of fear, frustration, and weariness are not the end of the story. Just the middle. God’s not done.

From the Heavens, God hears Hagar and her son as they cry.

And the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven and said to her, “What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. Lift the boy up and take him by the hand, for I will make him into a great nation.” Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the skin with water and gave the boy a drink. God was with the boy as he grew up (Genesis 21:17-18)

…

We are Forgetful, but God is Faithful

Hagar was not forsaken, nor forgotten. God still saw her, knew precisely what she needed, and was prepared to provide for His weary daughter in a multitude of ways.

Why?

God stays true to His promise. He does not forget what He has spoken, and He certainly doesn’t forget about His children. If we were to stop reading at verse 16, if we were to throw the towel in and allow lies to take root in our hearts that put God’s character and heart into question, we’d miss the miracle that happened next. If we closed our bibles mid-story, we’d leave without the revelation of God’s heart. If we fought to keep our eyes closed when God sought to open them, we wouldn’t see the blessings and the miracles abundant. Heaven is all around us.

In How to Pray, Pete Greig writes that God is lovingly attentive to (our) needs, always pleased to see (us), predisposed to answer the cries of (our) heart. To be predisposed is to be inclined toward a specific attitude or action. God’s most common response to us is mercy. In Exodus 34, as God passes over Moses, exclaiming who He is, the first thing He says after He calls Himself Lord is that He is merciful.

God is merciful. He is compassionate. He hears the cries of His children, and while He does not always respond in the exact way we might hope, He comes bearing love. We are not led into the wilderness for our hope to die, but for our dependence on Him to increase.

Note: It is important to acknowledge the complexity of suffering. I do believe there are many theologies that seek to honor God in making sense of why bad things happen, but I’m not sure if on this side of heaven, we’ll ever know the answer for certain. What I do know is this: Jesus endured much suffering on the cross, and told us that in this world, there would be trouble. Did He give you cancer? Was it His will for someone you love to die unexpectedly? Did His will actually lead to your suffering? Well, I just don’t know about that. He is the Author of Life. I don’t believe God delights in our suffering, but He can use it for His glory. Just a thought…

In Genesis 21, we see how God responds to our desperation.

First, He hears our cries.

Then, He reminds us of His promise.

Next, He invites us to remember Him. To look up.

Finally, He shows us who He is by tending to our needs, whether they be emotional, spiritual, physical, or mental (sometimes it’s multiple, like we see with Hagar).

When our circumstances are less than ideal, when they’re heartbreaking, discouraging, or frustrating, it becomes so easy to doubt. It can feel like the easier thing to conclude that God is a liar than to face the possibility that He is still good when our hearts are breaking, our bodies are failing, and our minds feel like the enemy. Of this we can be certain: He is not a liar. His heart beats for us, and it breaks for us too. God hears us when we cry, and is eager to restore our hope in Him. Faith that lasts flows from a heart that knows pain. Brokenness isn’t meant to separate us, but draw our gaze upward. Brokenness points us toward the amazing grace God has given us through his son, Jesus. It’s not meant to divide and be the reason we avoid his gaze, but a moment that seeks to draw us back to the presence of our Father. Nothing can separate us from the love of our God. He uses the middle of the story for His glory. God’s not done.

…

Eyes Closed

Something that stood out to me as I was reading this passage again was how Hagar’s eyes were closed while the angel of the Lord spoke to her. It struck me because of the name she gave God the first time: Jehovah El Roi, the God who sees. The first time, she said, I have seen the one who sees me. Her eyes and heart were open to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord, to receive His blessing and comfort. But the second time, scripture says her eyes were closed.

This can’t be a random detail; it’s showing us something. Perhaps Hagar’s despair blinded her from seeing the God who saw her.

Scripture says God opened her eyes*. He wasn’t done.* If God hadn’t done that, she would’ve missed her miracle. God couldn’t risk that, so He entered in. God has plans to prosper us, not to harm us. To give us a hope and a future.

In this story, we see God’s heart on display. He knew Hagar’s hope needed to be restored; He also knew she needed water to survive. God knows what we need before we even ask. He knows what we need before we do.

Hagar’s story reminds me that God truly is with us every step we take. He is faithful to the promise of His presence.

…

Open Your Eyes

I wonder how many of us don’t see the Lord because our eyes are closed.

I wonder how many times the Lord has gently asked us to open them, but fear, doubt and unbelief obscured our vision. Have we missed the miracle?

What if the answer to our prayer is right in front of us, but we’re so focused on our lack and the ways God isn’t showing up, or didn’t show up, that we’ve lost sight of what He’s trying to do now? What if we’re stuck in the past when God is trying to do a new thing? to take you to a new height or new depth? God doesn’t put new wine into an old wine skin.

The promise of Jehovah El Roi, Emmanuel God With Us, isn’t conditional, withheld when we rebel or fall short. It’s steadfast and sure. God’s love is steady, and His foundation is firm.

He sees us. He is with us.

In John 16:33, Jesus tells us to take heart; for I have overcome the world. But right before that, he says in this world there will be trouble. It’s not an if; it’s a guarantee. We will experience heartache. We will experience despair. We will waver and doubt. We will fear. We will find ourselves in wilderness seasons that, if we’re willing, will teach us how to depend on Christ alone. His promise is that He will be with us through it all. He is an ever present help in our time of need.

Where we once may have thought God was kicking Hagar to the curb by asking Abraham to pack a bag for her, we come to realize that all along, there was a greater plan for Hagar and Ishmael too. God didn’t lead Hagar away from the house of Abraham and Sarah without knowing how He would provide for her. He wanted to do a new thing. He wanted to orchestrate a miracle right before her eyes to show her what it means to be the One who sees. The same is true for you and me.

All along, God was preparing a way. He was planning a miracle that was for them. Ishmael wouldn’t receive the inheritance of his brother, but God did promise He would be with Him as He grew up.

We don’t always get to decide what kind of trouble we’ll face in this world, but we do get to decide whether we’ll have a friend in the fire. We do get to decide whether we’ll rely on our own strength or on God’s. We do have a say in whether we give God the final say.

Depending on someone else feels scary, but God cannot be held to any earthly standard. He is trustworthy because He has always been true to His word. It’s in His very nature to be reliable.

So, would you open your eyes? Would you allow God to keep writing your story? He’s not done. Release your grip, and allow the Author of Life to do what He does best. Fix your gaze upward, because God is dependable. He is trustworthy. He is sovereign.

Open your eyes. Let Him do a new thing. Be expectant of His miracles and His provision. He is with you.
Have you seen the One who sees you?

May 13th, 2024

Have you seen the One who sees you?

One of my favorite scriptures comes from psalm 27. It says,

one thing I ask from the Lord; this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.

It offers such a beautiful picture of what it looks like to long for God. To face our lack of desire head on, and seek Him wholeheartedly. Recently, I’ve asked myself: what is the foundation of my worship? Am I here to worship the gift or the Giver?

In the Pursuit of God, AW Tozer writes,

“in the deep heart of man was a shrine where none but God was worthy to come…our woes began when God was forced out of His central shrine and “things” were allowed to enter. Within the human heart, “things” have taken over.”

In our brokenness, we have placed other things on the throne of our hearts. Things that never belonged in the high place. A seat where only Jesus is worthy to sit. We have sought comfort from external sources, and trusted in people and security that doesn’t rest in the heavenly realms. We have chosen earthly treasures, and have allowed the blessings of God to inform the posture of our worship. Even the gifts from our Father have become “things” that have taken over.

When this is the foundation of our worship, desiring the Giver and the gift, not just Christ alone, not getting what we want or hope for is a harsh awakening. We grow weary because we’re like a wave thrown and tossed by the sea, and have lost our anchor. When we’re swimming in prayers unanswered and hopes unfulfilled, sometimes we forget how to trust God and worship Him. When we’re wrestling in the in-between and the not-yet, our seeking of Him slows. Most of our life is waiting, isn’t it?

Waiting. Praying. Hoping. Believing. Trusting. Seeing. Not Yet Seeing.

With eyes open and hearts ready and willing, we’re able to see an even greater invitation, one that calls us to worship and praise no matter the circumstance. We are invited into a relationship of deep, divine communion with a God who promised to be with us. Here, we learn to trust God in everything and to believe that He truly does work all things together for good. By spending time resting in His presence, we come to see the depths of his heart revealed.

I know for me, in the middle is where things feel the hardest. The waiting is a battleground all on its own, but too is a place where God is eager to meet with us.

A little over a year ago, I went to the doctor for a routine check up. By the end of the appointment, and after a series of questions, my physician decided there were a few things that would benefit from running some tests. They ran some. Then, they ran a few more. As time went on, my worry and fear multiplied. I thought of all the worst possible scenarios, drawing lines in the sand that did not yet exist. I found it hard to stay anchored in faith and trust. In the coming weeks, fear loomed as I waited for my test results. Through all the poking, prodding and examining, I felt paralyzed. The unknown was a heavy weight I couldn’t bear, and it truly felt like it would break me. I saw the potential of an unwelcome outcome, looking around for anything to bring me peace and ease. I wondered if God was there at all (He was).

I think many of us have had seasons like this – the dark night. And I’m sure if now we find ourselves on the other side, we’d look back and say, This is how God used that. He didn’t delight in my suffering, but He used it for His good and His glory in these ways. I became more like Jesus through that trial.

I don’t often feel like I have good enough answers to the how-could-God-let-this-happen?’s and why-didn’t-God-do-something?’s but anytime I have felt deep despair, I have found comfort in knowing that even if God didn’t stop something bad from happening, He was present with me in it. And, what I see as a burden, He can turn into a blessing. His presence has given me all the answers I seek. The following story is one I’ve turned to many times when I have had to fight to believe this truth.

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The Story of Hagar

In the Old Testament, there’s a woman named Hagar who is remembered for her brief appearance in the story of Abraham and Sarah. In Sunday Schools, Sunday teachings, and the like, it seems we seldom speak of Hagar’s story. Most people probably wouldn’t be able to recall her name if they heard it, but her story is remarkable.

Before Hagar’s encounter in the desert with God, a few tensions boil over in her home. As a brief synopsis: God promises to bless a nation through Abraham and Sarah’s bloodline (Gen 12:1-3). While Abraham’s bold faith to see this come to pass is “credited to him as righteousness” (Gen 15:6), Sarah grows weary because she remains barren at the age of 75. Sarah devises an alternate plan by enlisting her Egyptian slave (Hagar) for “help” to conceive a child with Abraham. With building tensions in the home when Hagar is found pregnant, Hagar reaches her breaking point and runs away. Grief-stricken, and at her wit’s end, the angel of the Lord calls out to her.

In Genesis 16:7-14, it says,

The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, “Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?” “I’m running away from my mistress Sarai,” she answered. Then the angel of the Lord told her, “Go back to your mistress and submit to her.” The angel added, “I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count.”

The angel goes on to prophesy over her future son. Then, in verse 13, Hagar responds by saying

“You are the God who sees me. I have now seen the One who sees me.”

You are the God who sees me.

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God Desires to Meet With Us

In the desert that day, Hagar inclines her ear to a quiet voice without realizing that the following words would change her life. Jehovah El Roi, the God Who Sees, saw Hagar. El Roi translated as “shepherd”, or as seeing, looking, or gazing is a name for God that offers encouragement that we aren’t invisible to God. Just like Hagar, He sees you and me, too. This is a name we get to call upon in our darkest night, and our deepest grief. Here, I am reminded that even when our circumstances stay the same, God’s presence can change everything.

Why? God enters in. He doesn’t always fix everything, but he does bring hope to the hopeless. He does restore what’s been broken. He does redeem what’s been lost. He does heal the deepest parts of us. He does remind us we’re not alone. God gives the gift of His presence, and it changes everything.

Centuries ago, God revealed His heart to a weary daughter, alone in the desert, by calling out to her in her affliction. Everything changed because He had seen her, and she, Him. Knowing that God saw her changed the way Hagar wrestled. She set along the road back from where she came and let her wrestle be worship.

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He Sees You

Do you know that as you wait for a miracle, He sees you?

As you find yourself wondering if God is listening or hears you at all, He sees you.

When you didn’t realize your heart could break more, but somehow it does again, He desires to meet with you there.

As you remain single longer than you thought you’d be, as you stare at the kitchen counter and see another negative as you try to conceive, as motherhood is much harder than you thought it would be, He sees you.

When your trauma keeps finding you when you’d much rather it stay hidden underneath, and your greatest fears seem to be making their way into your story, and the dreams you’re chasing are starting to tear at the seems, He sees you.

Weariness is a place where God is prepared to show us the power of His presence, and the steady love He promises to His children. The end of ourselves is a place we can learn, once again, how deep our need is to depend on Him and how God desires to fill the empty spaces. Here, He transforms our hearts by showing us the high seat is a place Christ alone is worthy to enthrone.

When we have nothing else, we realize God is all we need.

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We Are Met With Grace

As I read the story of Hagar again, I was reminded of how the Lord’s presence has been the catalyst for change time and time again in my own life. In those days before my final test results last year, I had to fight with everything in me to stand on the sure foundation and promise that God is God with Us. To worship and praise Him for who He is, not just what He can do for me. To accept that I had no control over what was to come, but I did know who would walk with me in it no matter what. It may have been one of the hardest things I’ve walked through – coming to terms with how little control I have – but was a trial where I learned even more the power of God’s presence and what it means for Him to be sovereign.

By the grace of God, tests came back normal, but those few desperate weeks marked me. They showed me that God’s sights set on me was all I had and somehow all I need. He is my one thing. He showed me, through his supernatural peace, that He saw me, He was with me, and He had not forsaken me. He never has and He never will.

I imagine Hagar testifying to the same truth.

Have you ever reached the end of yourself?

I have come to understand that at the end of ourselves, we encounter God with a depth, intimacy, and desperation unlike anything else. We discover the miracle of His presence in the valley of the shadow of death. We realize that our heartbreak, the longings in our heart, can’t compare to the deep chasm of a heart beating without Christ. And to suffer with him is one of the greatest gifts we could receive.

There, at the end of our will and our power and our control, we find God’s sovereignty. We find Him to be faithful. In this, there’s freedom. A freedom that doesn’t look like the world’s freedom, but leads to abundant life, and gives us what we need to follow the path back to where we came with unfounded hope in God because He sees us.

Desperation does something for our faith – it helps us to realize that truly all we need is Him. When we have nothing else to give or cling to, our hands are open and free to reach out to him.

I wonder: Is being seen by the one who sees us enough?

God is a Living God. He seeks to restore all things back unto him; He is not finished yet. But I sit here and wonder: does the beauty of His grace sustain us? Do we burn for him, or do we just long for the gifts He brings? Of course, we don’t want to grow complacent, hardened or passive to the reality of a God who is very much alive and moving, but we also want to be attentive to the foundation of our worship. We can be both expectant for the miraculous, and grateful for what we have already received in Christ.

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A Prayer & A Blessing

May Jehovah El Roi be our comfort in every season, remembering that His eyes fixed upon us is powerful enough to sustain us in every trial and victory.

May we remember that just a day in his courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.

May we stand in awe of the One from whose hands we receive many blessings, and embrace the beauty of relationship with a God whose way is one of deep, divine, and holy communion.

May we fix our eyes on the pioneer and perfecter of faith, knowing that to just be in His presence satisfies the true longing in our hearts.

Even in our waiting, our longing, our suffering, and our wanting, God is present. He desires to meet with us, and show us that His presence can change everything. As you continue to find your hopes, dreams, and prayers unanswered, hold fast to the hope in knowing our God is the same yesterday, today and forever. He doesn’t always change our circumstances in the natural, but even just hearing His voice can be enough to sustain these weary hearts of ours.

Have you seen the one who sees you?

He sees you.

In your waiting, He sees you.

In your longing, He sees you.

Through your tear-soaked cheeks, He sees you.

In your joy, He sees you.

Through every season, He sees you.