No Thanks

I can’t count the number of times in my life that I’ve caught myself acting like an Israelite, fresh out of Egypt. Their list of faults could easily match mine: idealizing the past, forgetting God’s power, doubting His word, complaining about…much of life. 

Even after God miraculously brought water out of rock and bread out of nothing, here’s what they said:

“There is nothing at all but this manna to look at!” Num 11:4-6

“There is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food.” Num 21:5

The appearance of manna each morning was no longer enough, because, to them, what God provided had become repetitive, at best, and repulsive, at worst. Do you label part of God’s provision in your life with one of those words? I’m as guilty as they were. 

Repetitive. This (fill in the blank) is just plain boring. 

Repulsive. I’m sick of this (fill in the blank)! No thanks, God.

No thanks. We’ve stumbled upon a fundamental flaw, then and now. We give God no thanks.  

A quick Google search of the word thankfulness, shows that the medical field now prescribes the same directive that originates in Scripture: be thankful. It turns out that this spiritual act of worship is also a physically restorative practice.  Are we surprised that our Creator asks of us what can also benefit us? 

If Israel was tired of seeing miraculous manna everywhere and sick of its taste, then I too am susceptible to rejecting God’s everyday provision. The way to guard against that is thankfulness. So this week, I’m taking particular note of what I taste and what I see, because I want to keep tasting and continue seeing that the Lord is good. 

Each day, I’m writing down 3 things I’ve tasted and 3 things I’ve seen that make me thankful for the One who gave me these senses to experience His good provision. Want to join me in this Perspective Project? I’d love to hear what’s on your list!

Try it on Backwards

Psalm 20

The thing about a favorite T-shirt is that it hangs so familiarly that I forget I’m even wearing it. I don’t spend any part of my day actually thinking about what I have on when I pull it from my drawer. It just feels right.

But then there’s that feeling when the neckline sits up higher than usual and the shoulders pull awkwardly, that I realize I’ve put it on backwards. Suddenly, I become aware of its shape and seams that were intentionally, yet subtly, designed, and I love it even more because of those details.  Only by trying it on backwards, do I recognize why it’s so perfect front-wards.

I’ve noticed that I can treat Scripture like a favorite shirt, well-worn and comfortable, used without much attention to why it resonates.  But what if I tried Scripture on backwards? How could it accentuate truth if it were reversed into falsehood? 

Recently a friend introduced me to the idea of antipsalms, where the message of hope and truth in a Psalm is twisted into despair and lies by turning the verses to mean the opposite. 

Try on my Antipsalm 20 for Psalm 20:

There is no one to answer you in the day of trouble.

There is no one to call on for protection.

Help isn’t coming, and nor is any support.

Everything you’ve done is forgotten.

All your hopes and dreams will be dashed.

There is only crying, defeat, and failure ahead.

No one can save you; heaven is silent and too weak to rescue.

It’s better to have military strength than to rely on a god, 

because that’s where the real power is to rise above the enemy. 

The king saves himself. No one bothers with your problems.

Have you been walking around in this backwards shirt, believing it’s your reality? Quick! Twist it around, and check out Psalm 20 to get it right and to love it even more.

Easter Monday after Resurrection Sunday

2 Corinthians 4:7-11

Monday will never measure up. It always sits in the shadow of Sunday and follows on the heels of eventful weekends, forming contrasts too great for this mere weekday to overcome.  Monday has a reputation for being the rule-keeper of the group by signaling reality, sounding the alarm clock, and infamously shutting down fun times. We usually dread it and wish we could play a Skip card on it. 

Monday means back to business, back to normal, back to school, back to reality, back to routine weekdays, and even more so when it follows a holiday like this one.  On Sunday, we rightly celebrate, sing, invite, and dine over joyous truth worth every ounce of energy, but what does the resurrection mean when I wake up the next day?

If I’ve claimed Christ’s death and resurrection on my behalf, then He is living in me. His life in me must mean something for weekdays of paperwork, crying children, loads of laundry, upset clients, overdue bills, unmet expectations, questions about the future, broken relationships, and everyday normal living. How does the power to defeat death translate into power to live my days?

2 Corinthians 4:7-11 helps us understand what this holiday means for the week:

On Monday, when people and situations are pressing in from every side, it’s our living Savior in us that keeps us from crumbling under the weight of it all. 

On Tuesday, when we’re perplexed about which way to turn, what decision to make, or whether we even have resources for the next step, it’s the power of God that raised Christ, which keeps us from despair in our confusion.

On Wednesday, when we feel hunted down, on the run, or harassed for our faith, it’s the presence of Christ that will not abandon us.

On Thursday, when life swings for a total knockout, it’s Jesus’ death we’re tasting, but it’s His life that guarantees we will not be destroyed.

What are Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday for, if not for weekdays like these? 

From Worldview to World News

On Love Thy Body, by Nancy Pearcey

I’ve often felt confused, saddened, and angered, all at once, about the state of our culture’s ethics. From abortion to gender transition to racism, the value of life and sense of self hang in the balance. But to be more than just reactionary and to grow in compassion, I’ve wanted to understand the thinking behind these issues. 

A moral action is not simply an isolated or random decision; a worldview has informed it, shaped it, expected it. Even if someone cannot articulate it, a certain worldview upholds their behavior. Nancy Pearcey writes in Love Thy Body, “Every practice comes with a worldview attached to it - one that many of us might not find true or attractive if we were aware of it.”  

Pearcey explains our current cultural worldview through a two-story building analogy, which she credits to Francis Schaeffer. Each story represents a division in worldview priority: science & facts in one story, vs. morality & values in the other. Throughout the book, she illustrates how this division exists in the popular cultural mindset as person vs. body. A person “has moral and legal standing” and the body is “an expendable biological organism”. From this worldview, actions once seen as immoral can be applauded by society as long as they support science over morality or the person over the body. 

I believe her writing can equip followers of Jesus to have: 

• more informed, compassionate conversations

• confidence that a biblical worldview unites the categories that our culture says are at odds with each other 

“May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

1 Thessalonians 5:23

Prayers for my kids

When our kids began to reach school-age, we were living abroad. It was a country famous for polar opposites: a people of generosity and strong relationships, constantly threatened by robberies, muggings and carjackings.  They welcomed us with open arms, yet every house stood locked behind walls and bars. 

The threat was real, and when my husband was eventually car-jacked, it was merely our entrance into their reality. But the danger deepened when it came to sending our oldest to school.  He carries an epi-pen for anaphylactic food allergies, and in this foreign school, his teachers had never seen an epi-pen before. 

My anxiety in this context surfaced rapidly, and “unsafe” was my mantra.  Nothing was safe - not the streets, our neighborhood, the people, their school, the food.  A long commentary on this season in my life could be written, but what I hope can be helpful for this moment are the prayers I learned to pray then and still pray now regarding our kids.  

These are cries that first came from a heart overwhelmed with panic, just trying to make it through the hours; they’re not prayers from a heart that had it all figured out. Every day back then, as I sent my oldest off to school, it was an act of faith, and every day he came home, it was a gift. 

And we’re reminded, dear parent, family member, and care-giver, that it still is. If you find yourself wrapped up in inescapable anxiety over your kids, may one of these simple prayers resonate with you.

A prayer for when I’m with my children: 

Help me love them fully in the moment, because it’s really all I have.

A prayer for when I’m not with my children:

Help me release control, because I have actually never had it.

A prayer for when I sense my limitations:

Help me remember that I am just mom; only You are God. Your love, understanding, and control exceed mine.

A prayer for perspective:

Stir up a longing in me for that place where tragedy never strikes.  Even so, come, Lord Jesus.