Jesus

Can’t Yet Walk In the Royal Shoes God Offered?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

If I was a stranger to myself, reading this account of my attempts to step into my identity, I would think I was a loser. But it’s a lot easier to believe lies about ourselves than it is to step into the royal robes that Jesus is holding out for us. The dress is too big. There is room for us to grow.

Will we wear the dress anyway, the shoes too big, the crown tottering on our tiny heads, as we hold His hand, and peer into His eyes, receiving His next gift for us, His beloved child. Growth will come. Will we trust the process?

Are you also a loser? With a process a bit like mine, where you kick off the royal shoes in a temper tantrum, frustrated because it’s easier to wear smaller shoes, the ones that you can tie on yourself?

Sure, the old kid’s runners feel a bit tight at the tips, but even walking feels impossible in the fancy big shoes that He has given you.

But of course, He offers His hand, His arm to lean upon, as you learn to walk as royalty.

No, learning to walk as royalty is not as simple as putting on dress shoes and waving goodbye to Jesus as He looks at you sadly, and hit the red carpet. He knows your heart, mine. So He gives us shoes that are too big, at first, so that we need His hand, His arm to learn to walk. We almost fall, again, and catch hold of Him. He smiles at us lovingly and encourages us to try again. So we do. And every touch from His arm, every tear shed that falls near us, every look of love from His eyes transforms us. Our feet and our hearts grow a bit bigger.

So becoming who He calls us to be is a painful process for us, simply because we can’t yet clearly see who we are becoming. Because we don’t know where we are walking, the journey is often long and fraught with falls. But He is calling you, too. Do you hear Him?

He holds out shiny dress-up shoes to you too.

Yes, they are too big for you and you will need to cling carefully to Him. Are you ready to take the first step? Are you ready to get up off the couch, to give Him your old runners, the ones that are a bit too tight? Soon you’ll be running, with Jesus at your side.

But for now, you may feel a bit like a loser, too. Recognizing ourselves as who we are, as a small child with no vision for our future, instead of the captain of a ship is the first step to our destinies. Are you ready to run into your identity, eventually, as a royal child of the King? The first steps will feel a bit uncomfortable. Your rear end may get a bit sore. You may even feel like a loser when you try to explain your journey to another, one day.

Why were you such a slow learner, you lament? Growing up takes time.

Realizing we are still a child takes even longer.

I still have many things to tell you, but you can’t handle them now. But when the Friend comes, the Spirit of the Truth, he will take you by the hand and guide you into all the truth there is. The Message

Lord, help us to take the first step of humility by taking off the familiar shoes that are too tight, as You call us to step into our identities as sons and daughters of the King. Help us to see the vision that You have for us, as threads of a tapestry in Your Kingdom. Help us to have the humility to recognize our need for Your arm, as we learn to walk down the new path You are calling us to.

Ask God “What new thing are You calling me to?” Your Kingdom come Jesus, more fully on earth as each one of us surrenders our calling to Your voice calling, we pray.

Christianity Is Not THAT . . .

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

There is another side of Christianity that differs from what many associate with the word “Christian”.

Like the coin that is worn down so thin on one side, that no insignia can be observed, so does the present term “Christian” no longer resemble its original design. (Sorry for the shock.)

Flip the coin over, and we can just discern the head of the Queen and the date. There are hints of the real thing, of true Christianity, if we look a hairsbreadth away, within a slice of each believer sometimes, but we have to look closely.

What do I mean? Well, ask the modern-day person what their definition of a Christian is, and they would probably say something like, “A Christian is someone who dresses up a bit on Sunday mornings and goes to church. They sing and listen to a speaker for a bit, then come home, and eat lunch . . .

. . . but the rest of the week, they are exactly like us.”

The divorce rate among Christians and non-Christians is equivalent, premarital and extramarital sex is equivalent, and depression and suicide are equivalent.

But sometimes, if we break into a sweat polishing the coin, we can JUST discern the profile of the Queen.

The divorce rate of students who attend a PARTICULAR Christian college, tracked after 15 years, is 3%.

Huh?

The elderly couple who attend the church mentioned above, who dress up on Sunday – they smell nice. And not a smell that one can sense with the nose.

They are the kind of people that you find yourself wanting to be around.

The people that end up hearing stuff that emits from your gut involuntarily. You can trust them. There is a hint of the divine in them, if you look hard enough, past their Sunday best jacket, and look, with the eyes of Jesus, into the heart.

There are bits of char in their hearts too, however, which is the confusing part. We were looking for a Saviour, someone we could look up to, and the more we know even these saints, we are left disappointed, continuing our search.

We only found some friends.

And I guess this is the way that it is meant to be.

The people we meet on our journeys, who help us up when we fall, who hold encouraging signs saying, “Keep going! That way!”, and hold us up in their prayers, are only dirty fellow pilgrims, on their own journeys.

They can’t lead the way.

They can only shout encouragement from the sidelines.

And I guess that is the way that He likes it best. We are the ones responsible for our own journeys.

There is a certain terror in this realization once reality kicks in. WE are responsible for choosing right or left at the next fork in the road, and at the next and the next crossroads at a dizzying speed.

Can’t we just follow someone for a change?

At this exact point of desperation, when I was finally fed up and stuck, terrified that I was going the wrong way, trying to drown out the competing voices that shouted for my allegiance, I finally called out to God, pleading, “Who can I follow?”

He arrived, with an arm outstretched, offering to help me up out of the dust, brush off the tears, and to give me a hug, and a pat before gently steering me in a particular direction, onto a lonely path that few have travelled, arm in arm with Him.

There are so many rocks and roots that I was sure I would fall. He knows this. But He was there at any point to help me up again, dust me off again, point me in the right direction again. He will for you too, should you ask Him.

Should. You. Ask. Him.

That is the key question.

Will you ask God for help? He is waiting on the sidelines, one of the voices shouting encouragement.

Will you take the time today, to listen? He is waiting for you, longing for you to finally show up for coffee with Him, and to pour out your heart. He has the best advice and He will show you the way out of the briars, and onto the open road.

Don’t assume you have found the path simply because someone is cheering you on. There are cheerleaders on every path, and some are evil, disguised, of course, as good.

Come on traveller, let’s go.

Jesus is just up ahead.

Let me introduce you to Him so that He can hold your hand as you walk together. Good luck on your journey!

I turn, looking for the next traveller to cheer on.

May you do the same for the travellers you meet along the way.

Now you’ve got my feet on the life path . . .Ever since you took my hand, I’m on the right way. The Message

How To Avoid Spiritual Head Banging

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

It started its day by banging its head against the window. “Aw – poor little bird,” I thought. I wondered if it accidentally flew into the window. But then I heard it – thump . . . thump… thump… This bird had been caught in a Mobius loop, a cycle without exit.

“Must. Bang. Head. Against. Window!” it thought, its determined little mind hurling itself again and again at its reflection

I felt compassion for the little thing. These glass window panes are a menace to little birds with walnut-sized brains. Seeing its reflection in the window, it tried desperately to fight itself off.

It will get tired in a few minutes and fly away, I thought optimistically. When minutes turned to hours, I was starting to admire the little guy, in a “you’re crazy” sort of a way.

I scared it away, using my most terrifying howl. I won’t see that bird again today, I thought, pleased with myself. Not even a full minute passed before the little animal returned. BAM. Flutter, flutter. BAM. This thing is brave.

I placed pillows, and miscellaneous items against the window to hide its reflection. The bird merely defecated repeatedly on the pillows before flying slightly higher and slamming itself against the window pane. BAM. Fly fly flutter flutter. BAM.

I taped black paper on most of the window. Like the cat in “The cat came back” National Film Board feature, this bird flew to another window of our house, and then another and another. I followed it from window to window, covering pangs so it couldn’t see its reflection.

Soon I felt like I was living in Britain in WW2, with black paper from my daughters art supplies covering almost every window. Wham… wham… wham…

The black paper helped for awhile but with determined insanity, the bird found my loopholes. A week later, I found it delightedly smashing it’s little head against a forgotten garage window. BAM! It didn’t even back away when it saw me this time. It was busy.

Guess how long this has been going on? A few hours? Nope. A few days? Nope. So far we are at more than three WEEKS plus one day of thumping. The little guy is determined, for sure.

We left for a holiday, and when we returned, I was amazed to find the little bird still thumping, not wanting to miss even one day of it’s morning routine. Clearly now this bird was just in a habit. A VERY bad habit.

I saw another dark-eyed junco this morning, as I peered through the small hole of black paper taped to the window to peer cautiously outside. This little bird was pecking at the ground, fluttering about, doing regular bird stuff. It seemed to be having a better go at things, a more joyous life.

Why was the other little dark-eyed junco stuck?

And us? I see the same thing in other parts of life. In my church. Instead of standing back, offering our activities to God, seeing what God is offering new this season we “Must. Do. The. Same. Things. Over. And. Over” too. Even if it’s dangerous to our well-being. We are determined.

Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. The Message

Why don’t we ask God where we are banging our heads against the window, because, we too, like that stuck little Junco MUST. DO. THE. SAME. THING. OVER. AND. OVER.

Stuck spiritually?

Dislike reading the sacred text, the most influential book of all time?

Hate to pray?

Maybe it’s time to try a new approach.

Let’s pray together. I am excited to announce an online prayer time, and you are very welcome to join!

Details coming soon!

Jesus, teach us to listen, and to obey your voice into the bright and exciting future you have for each one of us, that we may, by Your power, share Your love with the world.

Let’s awaken, listen, respond.

Holy Spirit, what is the new thing that You are calling our hearts to soar into?

Does Your Heart Long For the Gift of Hope?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Ah!!! All of it – yuck! It clambers on me, like a slime mold, slowly advancing. It climbs up my feet, and legs, though I protest, holding my arms high in an effort to keep it away. I try to push it back, frantically, but it advances. The yellow goo, unfeeling, is slowly encapsulating me. Will I be unable to breathe?

As it climbs up my chin, and toward my mouth, I cry out a guttural sound. I try to scare it with my bellowing roar but it enters, past my lower lip, advancing.

I sit on the ground, defeated. It continues to climb higher, up my cheeks now. I have succumbed. What is next?

And then you approach. Your legs are at my eye level as I sit on the ground next to you. I lift my eyes to your face. The slime swirls under your feet, but cannot climb you.

You extend your hand to me. Will I take it? Of course, I will. I lunge for your hand and the warmth surprises me. You look heavenward, up, your eyes closed as your fingers clasp around my hand.

I feel a tingling sensation, and a deep warmth, like water poring just under my skin. What is this? I am standing now, and I look in wonder at my hand that was just touching yours.

The slime pools and bubbles at my feet now, too, in a swirling confusion, but I pay no attention. I tread on it with ease.

I am laughing, embracing you. “Thank you! And wait!” I begin to say. I have so many, many questions. But you must not be detained. You stand in a circle and turn around once, or twice, and then are transformed into an eagle.

And you soar.

I jump after you. I try to flap my arms too. You become smaller and smaller, a tiny dot, gliding back and forth across the sky above me. You seem to be beckoning me just by your presence.

The impossible has become possible because of your life.

And what do I do, now that I have seen you? Do I sit down on the ground again, in despair, and wait once more for the slimy mold to… no!

But yet I can’t fly! I am lost in confusion. I circle once, twice, spinning, and then fall to the ground, dizzy. I did not transform as you did.

What will become of me? Oh – what was it that you gave me? Yes, I put it into my pocket. That tiny piece of paper.

I read like a starving man who has not seen food for days eats. What does it say?

Pile your troubles on God’s shoulders— he’ll carry your load, he’ll help you out. The Message

And so I rant, and I complain, and I speak of what ails me. And the slime mold oozes from my mouth. It was not outside of me but within me this whole time! When I speak it aloud and expel my inner contents in a mess of turmoil to my God, then the slime mold is expelled from within me.

I wipe my mouth. I feel gross and splattered with my mess and yet my stomach ailments feel better, too. And what now, I wonder? I feel lighter now, almost as if I could…

I spin around once, twice, and then, the wind beneath my foot pushes my foot into the air at the exact moment that I leap up. I turn in the air, once twice, and …

I am an eagle, now, soaring, too.

I crisscross the sky, just above them. Can they see me? I think they can if they squint, look closely, believe. Are any of them ready to step out of the advancing slime mold too?

Get up, get up, dear friend.

A Gift We All Want – Freedom from Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

The edge of the shadow creeps higher.

From the corner of my vision, I see it. It grows, curving and menacing as it climbs, encompassing my field of vision. It expands before my widening eyes.

I slouch, making myself smaller. Only my huge eyes can be seen now, staring at it, watching it grow.

Pop! It is gone! I sit up in wonder, turning round to see what has happened. You have flipped the light switch to “on”.

But fear, and the memory of it broods just under the surface as we speak. I am never very far away from it.

As a lake is half full of water, I am half full of fear, wherever I go. We speak of other things, above the water level of my fear, but the heavy lake of fear sways within.

It is just under the surface. Can you feel it?

Why no?

You flick on a flashlight, and shine it at my feet. The water level recedes to just below your light. I am walking on water now because your light has forced the fear, the water level, to recede from where it was just under my waist, to where it is now, just under my feet.

Wow! Thank you! I shout! I sing and dance, splash my feet in the puddle, the memory of my fear. I take your hands and ask you to dance with me, to splash with me. The lake of fear has become a puddle of fear that I now traipse in.

I need you with me, everywhere I go. And that light thing – that flashlight – can you bring that everywhere too?

You tell me you can’t stay with me and I throw myself prostrate, clinging to your feet, begging you not to leave me. I am horizontal in the puddle now, and fear surrounds me again, even with you here. Please don’t leave me!

I have to leave, you say, gazing with love into my eyes.

You turn around once, twice and are transformed into an eagle. You spring from the ground, eyes lifted, and soar. You circle me from the air, high up, watching me with the piercing vision of that majestic bird.

I can see you sometimes, though you are long way off. Your example encourages me to sit up, to wipe the tears from my eyes, and wait – what is this in my hand? Oh, you left me your flashlight!

I stand up, splashing the puddle with my boots, and switch the flashlight to “on” again. I whirl it round me. No monsters here- only the faint shadow of their movement at the edge of this beam of light.

I sit down to eat awhile, to refresh my spirit. I am on dry ground now, for the warmth of the light from my flashlight has evaporated any water. What was it that you told me again?

“I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” The Message

I lift my gaze. Light from the arm holding my flashlight naturally lifts to follow my gaze. The light shines higher and I feel lighter, lighter.

No fear to hold me down.

I spin, once, twice and now I am free too, free to soar. I too have found my wings. I too am an eagle.

It was only fear that was holding me captive.

I left my flashlight on the ground for them.

I hope that they (you) find it soon.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Or maybe that’s “Merry Christmas One” – if there is only one of you who reads this…???

Whatever.

In my Lawe Christmas Letter post from a couple of weeks ago, I lamented that we didn’t have an eloquent picture of our family.

Well, here it that photo, taken today!

In hindsight, there may be at least one person still in PJs in both blog post photos, but let’s not expect perfection!

May God hold those of you who are hurting in His hand, today. May all of us comfort others with the comfort that we have received tomorrow.

All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. The Message

Let’s pause and practice listening today, to that still small voice of Holy Spirit. Jesus, I give you this pain today. Could you give me Your comfort?

How to Receive The Gifts You Really Want This Christmas

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

A hairdryer for the bald guy. A new journal for the person with tendinitis. I have received every color and scent of “bath and body balms”. I’m allergic to them all. (Plus, why do you need a “body balm”? What even is that?) You have examples of your own.

Christmas presents that are useless. We smile, nod, PRETEND, and then say thank you for the stupid stuff in our hands.

How about the gifts that represent the desires of our hearts? The ones that are JUST out of reach? The things that we can’t quite articulate, that we don’t quite have the hope to believe we could ever attain, and so we try to forget.

How do we exchange bad Christmas presents for good ones? Where is that store?

Well, the frustrating part is that if I lead you to that store, you won’t go inside. You think you’ve already seen everything in that store. You think you understand what it’s like. You’re wrong. I know because I didn’t go inside for a long, long time, either.

I stood outside trying to warm my hands and feet while people came out of the store smiling, with shining packages. They invited me to come inside, but “No, I’m fine out here.” They can see that I am suffering in the cold, but they shake their heads and pat me on the shoulder as they walk past.

Many understand because they also stood outside in the cold for a long, long time prior to entering.

However, I had heard that night on the news that freezing temperatures this time of year are deadly. I became more uncomfortable as I shivered, but still, I waited.

Finally, I gave up and turned around. I walked back to my home, put my feet up, and distracted myself with the news.

I HAVE experienced Christianity, I protest!

They knock on the door. They brought me hot chocolate to warm my freezing hands. They offer me packages from the store that I was standing outside of.

Finally, I open one.

Oh, so THIS is what Christianity is like, I exclaim!

The gift we REALLY want will be discussed in detail next time here and here. How to receive good gifts, by cleaning our senses, will also be discussed.

Hey! Don’t blame me for these super short posts! You’re the one with a short attention span! Go read a REAL book or something. As for me, I have a train game streak that I don’t want to mess up, so I gotta go!

“. . . if some . . . outsiders walk in on a service where people are speaking out God’s truth, the plain words will bring them up against the truth and probe their hearts. Before you know it, they’re going to be on their faces before God, recognizing God is among you.” The Message

God, teach us to want to receive good gifts from You. What is hindering me from receiving from You, the gifts I really, really want this Christmas? (Pause and listen. This is how we begin to clean our ears.)

How To Enjoy Christmas: Lessons From A Former Grinch

/ Lori Lawe / 5 Comments
Photo Credit: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

Are you, too, trying to learn how to take off your Grinch suit, and leave it hung up on the wall? Does it try to jump onto you, as well, when you are not looking?

Unfortunately, I am only a recover-ING, not a recover-ED Grinch. However, I am learning to make room for Jesus by opening my senses: listening and seeing with the ears and eyes of God.

Are our ears cleaned out? Can we make time to listen to the soft voice of Jesus this season? What was that, Jesus? He wants us to get away with Him. Can we dump the holiday bustle of our culture and let Jesus culture win instead?

Who will determine our priorities? Will another good event win out, or will the very best for the soul win? Prompted by my quiet time with Jesus, and even though I already felt too busy that week, I phoned Mary. And I was the one encouraged, not her.

Instead of mindlessly baking a bigger tower of cookies, what if we sat with Jesus and lifted our bloodied hands to Him? What mistakes have we made that we need to ask Jesus, or another’s forgiveness for?

Are our eyes seeing clearly? Can we look through the eyes of Jesus at others? Can we extend forgiveness to that annoying relative we see only at Christmas? Let’s ask Jesus how He sees that person.

Your annoyance may turn to compassion, as mine recently did when I asked Jesus that very question about a person in my life who has an invisible but sharp thorn that regularly pokes me when she speaks. Do we need grace for this situation? He’s got that too, as another Christmas present for us, if we only take the time to sit with Him, to ask, and to hold out our hands to receive. And joy follows His voice, His gifts.

I have taken off my Grinch suit because it stinks. It turns out that we all wear beautiful robes under our Grinch suits! And when we stop a moment to gaze at him, He uses his large eraser to gently clean our robes. He is transforming us!

Let Christmas come into my heart, too!

“He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand. One look at him and people turned away. We looked down on him, thought he was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.” The Message

As we sit here by the fire together sipping eggnog, let’s share our hearts. What is helping you to keep your Grinch suit hung up on the wall?

Even Homeschooling Moms Can Enjoy Christmas!

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments
Photo Credit: How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss

I looked down at my feet, and instead of my slippers, I wore large red elf shoes. When I looked up at my legs, they were in a strange green suit. My expression was a constant frown. Ah! I had become the Christmas Grinch!

I frantically tried to take off the suit, shoes, and hat, but as hard as I fought myself, I couldn’t remove the attire. I slouched in my chair, despondent. I had to face the facts: I was not looking forward to Christmas.

Maybe it was the little things piling up that had rendered me here on the couch, immobile. I found myself seeking a particular type of shirt at a thrift store for my daughter for her Christmas concert (tomorrow). My other daughter “needed” to attend a Christmas wreath-making event. I found myself shivering in the car outside, adapting technology to my car for my zoom meeting. How had I agreed to this?

Who decided there are expectations to bake Christmas cookies? We are all too fat anyway, or viciously battling the bulge. Indulgence is good but stressing out to indulge seems counter-productive if we’re honest. And waiting until January to slow down on unhealthy binge eating doesn’t seem like the best plan.

Add the anticipation of a stressful car ride on winter roads to visit relatives, and I have somehow lost my holiday happiness. However, their eyes look up at us Moms in expectation of an excellent Christmas. And how are you doing, Mom?

So I set aside the Christmas bustle and found a quiet place to sit for a moment. I lifted up my smelly attitude and asked for a Christmas gift exchange with you, Jesus. Would You please give me your joy in exchange?

And in the quiet of my heart that morning, though my prayer was focused on me, he reminded me of the other. Phone her. Her health issues have intensified.

The Lord asked me to call Mary because in his wisdom he knew that I needed her, not vice versa.

Mary said, “I know that if I throw a pity party for myself, I am not going anywhere. So I chose joy this morning and I have been so full of the joy of the Lord, it is amazing.”

She rattled off scripture, a big jumble, not unlike another Mary, the mother of Jesus did over 2,000 years ago.

And Mary [pregnant with baby Jesus] said, “I’m bursting with God-news; I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.” The Message

Two Marys have made room in their hearts for the baby Jesus, within the sufferings of both the stable and of health issues. And His kingdom came.

Wearing this Grinch suit is a choice, I suddenly realize as I hang it back up. And so how do we genuinely enjoy Christmas?

I have been learning to open my spiritual senses to listen to and see Jesus this Christmas. We’ll discuss ways to extend these spiritual senses in the next post.

For now, bring your eggnog and come sit here, friend, next to me. Let’s share this warm blanket by the fire. The great comforter is coming soon! How have you been getting your room ready for Him this Christmas?