Between a Bear and a Hard Place

On a sunny, blue sky day in July 2020, my husband, Brent, and I decided we would take an overnight hike to a beautiful waterfall we had read about but never seen. We carefully planned our route, packed our backpacks, and started walking from our ranch in northwest Wyoming towards the adjoining Shoshone National Forest. Out the door before sunrise and feeling strong, we chose to climb Jim Mountain–elevation 10,430 ft–on the way. In retrospect, this rigorous climb was probably a bad idea since the afternoon heat was stifling, and the additional distance to our chosen destination was turning out to be farther than we had planned. What started off as cheerful banter between us had deteriorated into irritated grumbling. Then in the far mountains we saw it–only the faintest white ribbon descending–and the promise of beauty drew us across the grassy valley towards our waterfall. Gaining ground, I saw something dark moving in the distance and remarked to my husband, “Hey, what’s that animal up there?” Brent, focused and barely looking up, replied, “Probably a mule deer.” 

As we got closer to the animal, I saw that it was actually two animals. Closer yet and I saw the telltale hump between the shoulder blades of the larger Grizzly Bear! A mama and a baby bear were out for their evening meal which presently consisted of grass. As mama lifted her head to sniff, I could tell she was hoping to add some meat to her menu. By this time, I had been quietly yelling, “Those are Grizzly Bears!” and other panicked exclamations while Brent kept telling me that our trail was “just past the bears”. When my husband has a goal, changing plans is a very hard sell.

This is the point in the story where things get a little ugly. Brent insisted we keep going and quietly sneak past the beasts. I sadly envisioned our kids telling the story about Mom being eaten by a wild animal. The distance between Brent and I widened as he pushed toward the trail, and I moved in the opposite direction. Suddenly, with the wind whipping wildly, I noticed I was approaching an immense cavern. Here were my present options: Go left and fall to my death off a cliff; go right and become supper for a bear. Overwhelmed, I slumped down to the ground, holding onto a boulder so I wouldn’t blow away. I cried with loud and miserable sobs. Brent eventually turned around, told me gently to get up, and took my hand. Discarding his waterfall hopes, he led me to solid ground–in the opposite direction of the waterfall and the bears.

My recent journey through menopause, midlife, and empty-nest marriage has often made me think of this waterfall-hunting misadventure. Already tired from the strenuous job of raising four humans, I was trekking on to get to my beautiful waterfall years, which I envisioned to be filled with sunshine and gorgeous wildflowers. Instead, my path led me to some unfamiliar manifestations of the layered life transitions I was experiencing. 

Menopause seen from a distance seemed harmless, part of the natural order of things. But up close, it threatened to eat my confidence. Midlife offered new freedoms, but I was unprepared for the anxiety produced by standing on the edge of an unknown precipice. And marriage after the kids left our home was often so confounding that I just wanted to hold onto a rock and cry my eyes out. 

But here is where the story gets better–beautiful even. When I was all of these things, trying to withstand the winds of change by my own power and will, crying with loud and miserable sobs, I became overwhelmed by all the changes in this midlife time. Finally, and with a little help from my friends, I ran to God. Not immediately. Not always willingly. But eventually. I got to the limits of my abilities to cope, and I went to the safest place I knew: The Rock of Ages, my only solid ground.

Sometimes we think navigating life’s tough passes requires great personal strength and fortitude, but in my midlife journey, I have found the opposite to be true. Peace during times of change requires a surrender of control, not a white-knuckled grasp for it. If we humbly accept the path God has us on during major life transitions, we can trust that he will take us by the hand and pull us up. But unlike an exasperated Brent, God will not lead us away from the goal; he has equipped us for this very journey. By hiking the scary path in our place many many years ago, he secured safe passage for us. Now, by his Spirit, we can walk right past the bears and alongside the canyon without fear of falling in. And if we keep faithfully following his steps, he will lovingly lead us into the awesome waterfall of his grace. 

Trust in the Lord forever,

    for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.

~Isaiah 26:4

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,

    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

~Psalm 18:2

I Like Order

I like order. When everything is very orderly, I feel in control. I don’t always like structure– rules and prescriptive ways of doing things–but even when I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants, my flying, and my pants for that matter, are very orderly. 

God has indulged me in this little proclivity: I have four kids, two girls and two boys. All the children are two years apart, the first two in September, the next two in March. We celebrate birthdays two times per year, six months apart. My children' s names all consist of four letters, one syllable. We (almost–coming soon!) have eight grandchildren, four boys and four girls. Each of my adult children has one boy and one girl. 

If you come to my house and remove your shoes and set them so the right is on the left and the left is on the right, this drives me crazy and I will switch them for you, even in front of you, so that they are properly aligned. I also cannot tolerate anything inside-out, especially if it is hanging on a hook where I can see it, or a coat with the sleeves partially pulled inside. I have a compulsion to make things right and orderly–like my dishes, my silverware, and my towels which are all the same color–dark gray (just the towels, not the dishes which are all green and identical and stacked neatly in the cupboard). I make my bed every single day not because I have to but because I want to. It creates order in my house. Obviously, this was all much harder to achieve when I had four sticky children running around, but now that I have the opportunity, I like keeping things perfect.

I like order so much that I rely on it to feel secure. When things fly out of order, which they often do, I feel panicky because they might never become orderly again. 

But here’s the question I need to consider: Am I relying more on my ability to keep things perfectly ordered or on the God who sovereignly allows disorder so that we will run to him? 

Although God does, indeed, like order–look at the creation account or the animals two-by-two, or the instructions for the tabernacle, or the Levitical laws– but because he allowed us free will, disorder now reigns in our world. Because of this disorder, I try to control my little world so I don’t have to worry. But should I really put my trust in my perception of what feels safe? 

I’ve heard people say, “The safest place you can be is in the center of God’s will,” but I am wondering if maybe that’s not really true. Because when I surrender to God’s will, I must give up my own will; giving up my own will feels like losing control. Losing control means that I won’t be able to keep everything in perfect order. Is that where God wants me to be–at the end of myself but at the beginning of him? If we could see the future and were able to control all the variables so we felt at ease with what was ahead, we wouldn’t feel our need for a Savior. But we need a Savior because we have no ability to see around the corner. If what comes next makes my well-controlled house of cards fall to pieces, what will I put my trust in then?

So, even though God is sweet to me by allowing me a great sense of order in my life, if I put my security only in those things–in the things that feel clean and clear and ordered, I lose the opportunity to sit at his feet, to rely on him and not my well-ordered life. When I rely on my own tenacity to keep things well-aligned, I am not truly surrendering my will or my wants. If I only have peace when things are controlled, I’m not really trusting in the One who will sustain me when everything flies out of place (or when the grandchildren all visit at once).

Here’s where I have landed in this meandering thought experiment: If I only feel happy when my physical world is perfect, I am forgetting that Christ did, indeed, give me a little peek around the corner; this peek should give me peace. Christ lived, died, and was RESURRECTED so that I could see that all the chaos of this world will eventually be made beautiful and right. So I don’t need to panic. I need to look farther ahead and see what awaits me when God resurrects and restores Heaven and Earth. Confidence in that future promise is what should give me peace.

So in the meantime, when things get messy, I will be arranging my silverware into neat little piles and thinking thoughts of Heaven.

No Worry Required

In the past, I have written about my guilty conscience and the ways I try to quiet it. Some things for which I used to feel guilty have resolved themselves because they involved parenting duties I have now relegated to my adult children themselves, ie: cutting their own fingernails and brushing their teeth. When they were small, I didn’t do these things for them and barely did them for myself because I was simply trying to survive and those things seemed superfluous. Now that I sleep and have large chunks of time at my disposal, most of the things I once felt guilty about no longer plague me. In fact, I don’t struggle as much with guilt now as I used to, maybe because I realized many of the things I struggled with were actually false guilt. What I struggle now with is worry. 

I worry about my kids. I worry about my grandkids; I tell myself to stop because it is their parents' job to worry about them and I already did– and am doing–that for my kids. If I keep worry tabs open for each grandchild–we are up to eight now–I would freeze, and my mind would become the spinning ball of death–the same ball that appears on my Mac when I give it too much to do. I worry about my husband, and I worry about both of us when we fly in his airplane. I worry about my dog which I left with friends in Wyoming because I didn’t want to fly him home and because he is epileptic and I worry about his seizures. As a writer and a non-rusher and a bit of a dawdler, I worry about productivity. So when I get into a good routine of writing or living or eating, I worry about stopping it because maybe I will never get into a good routine again. I worry about writing because it doesn’t come as easily and cleanly as it used to, and I have to work harder to make myself do it even though I love it. I worry that I might be stupid because even though I understand words and feelings, numbers and money confuse me. I worry about my hermit-like tendencies and wonder if maybe I should try to be around people more even though I really like staying home by myself. I worry about exercising, and then when I exercise too much I worry that I am not recovering well and that maybe I have permanently injured myself. I worry about having too much stuff. I am OCD with this and need to know where everything is so I can feel in control. If I have too much, I can’t keep track of it all and it is stressful for me. When we moved recently, I got rid of nearly half of my possessions and keepsakes and it felt very clean and controlled. Now I worry about buying things because that clean feeling might go away. I worry about everything happening in the world today and that things are spinning wildly out of control and nothing will ever be beautiful again.

But mostly, I worry about worrying because I know that it accomplishes ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. So why do I do it, and why do I keep letting myself get into the mental space where everything feels threatening and life seems oppressive and ugly? I do it because I don’t really truly believe that God is sovereign and good. If you asked me this, I would say that I do believe he is those things, but I am realizing now that I don't. But I want to.

If I truly, with all my worrying heart, believed that God was holding onto everything and that nothing happened that wasn’t sifted through his holy hands, I could relax. I mean really relax. And I could enjoy the life he has assigned me in the time and place he has put me. If I truly trusted that he is good and that he is doing good for me, I could live the simple life of a child–God’s child. I wouldn’t worry because my Heavenly Father is in control. He is all-powerful. He is omniscient. And nothing ever surprises him. He is allowing history to unfold in the exact manner that he planned, and he is not shocked by the brokenness of the people he has made. If I really believed that I was praying to my Father–to my FATHER–in Heaven when I pray the Lord’s prayer or any prayer, I could shed my propensity to worry about everything as fast as my granddaughter sheds her clothes at the mention of a bath. 

Because really, what is worry? It accomplishes nothing except fear. It makes me distrustful and sometimes bitter because if nothing bad ever happened, I would never have to do it. The only time I find myself at ease and not worrying is when everything is going my way and no one is sick and no one is sad and all of my possessions are tidy and in order. 

But this is no way to live, because then I am always worrying that the perfectness is just about to end, and then I will be back to worrying again. I try to mitigate all of this by telling my kids to drive carefully and to stay healthy. I put up gates in my new house so no one will fall down the stairs and break themselves although I am still worried that they will stand on the bench that sits by the stairs and catapult themselves overboard and land lifeless in the basement. These thoughts create panic in my brain, not peace. So how do I stop? How do I get to a place of peace?

I get to peace by giving it all up–all the worry. I get to peace by trusting that God has my best life planned, even if it’s not the way I may think best, it will be the very best to make me more like him. I get to peace by praying and telling him that I am worrying again, and that I know that I am not supposed to worry about anything. I get to peace by reviewing his faithfulness in my life in the past. I get to peace by reading the Bible and seeing things that God already did and things he has already worked out behind the scenes when no one even knew he was doing it. I get to peace by truly believing that God has already won the battle over Satan. That he sent Jesus to live perfectly in my place so I have nothing to prove. That everything sad will one day become untrue. 

I get to peace by realizing that when I focus on my little ever-changing life, I am uncomfortable and insecure. And by realizing that when I focus on God and his unchanging nature, I can be still and know that he is God. When I look at his sovereignty rather than my fickleness, I see that worry is silly because we have no control over anything. But God does. 

And he is a master at making everything beautiful in its time.

God has a beautiful worry-free life planned for me. I just need to believe it and give up my perceived control. I need to remind myself daily of his goodness. I need to stop worrying, look for the peace he has promised, and learn to trust him more.

Because he really is sovereign and good.

 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7 (NLT)

A Quiet Confession

I have a confession: I hardly ever had a Quiet Time when my kids were little. 

I capitalize “Quiet Time” (as opposed to quiet time which I never had then, but now have in abundance) because it is a practice the western world has crafted and created, calling it, essentially though not actually, a requirement of a good Christian’s life. 

Please hear me: I do think that Christians need to quiet their souls so they can hear the still small voice of God, and I do think that can often happen more easily in a regimented time of Bible reading and prayer. But I also think that the Western evangelical formula for how this time should look is creating false guilt in the minds of many–especially young mamas. 

When I was a mom of four young kids, I loved (and still love) God and wanted to learn more about him by spending time in his presence, but my practical life made achieving time alone–for anything– nearly impossible (even showering alone was a luxury; most days, at least one child would lay on the bath mat right outside of the clear glass shower door). I knew this Christian “requirement” of a Quiet Time wasn’t really a rule, but it felt like one to me, and I felt ashamed that I had so much trouble making it happen. I added this shame onto the other guilt I felt about my exhaustion and my impatience with my children’s excessively long bedtime prayers.

The familiar evangelical term, Quiet Time, is a relatively new idea that gained traction in the last hundred years or so–with good intention. For millennia, the masses were illiterate, only hearing scripture read out loud to them.The centuries-long labor pains of illiteracy and inaccessibility made personal Bible reading impossible, but with the advent of the printing press and wide-spread literacy, a more individualistic and regimented Christian faith was born. 

The freedom that we now have to read God’s Word on our own is an unbelievable privilege of the present modern era. And the idea of having a solitary time in prayer and Bible study is a thrilling prospect attainable for all over the course of our lives as spiritual pilgrims. This arc of our hopefully-long lives will include more focused times of devotion (as I had in college as a hungry new believer), and very busy times–like young motherhood–where consistent Quiet Times may be difficult to achieve, and the “slower-mornings” seasons of the empty nest and  retirement. 

As modern evangelical believers who want to walk the way of Jesus, I think we can reformulate the rigid prescription of Quiet Time and lighten the burden of guilt for many. By creating a “system” for meeting with God, we have removed some of the spontaneity of our faith–which is to be child-like and awe-inspiring. How can we get that back? By removing some of the “rules.” If we can learn to commune with God by singing hymns in the shower (even–and especially– if littles are watching), by thanking him for the red birds in the blue sky as we absorb the beauty of the morning, by reading his Word out loud while babies blow bubbles in the bathtub, or by listening to the gospels as we exercise our bodies, then even when our seasons are busy, we can create rhythms in our lives that reverberate with joy, not guilt. 

In my present season of empty-nesting, I absolutely adore my consistent time with the Lord nearly every morning (and I can enjoy a long, hot, and completely private, shower whenever I desire). I don’t love the term Quiet Time, but in reality that is what I do when I meet with the Lord in the mornings over hot coffee and my Bible–I quiet my heart and mind before him so he can become greater and I can become less. My daily Quiet Time is not a requirement. God doesn’t love me any more because I followed a formula for meeting with him. God has always loved all of his children–even before they could read or have solitary time in his Word. Our disciplines don’t change God’s attitude towards us, but sometimes they can change our attitude towards him. And sometimes God can change us just as well when we look to him in desperation in busy seasons and unpredictable circumstances in our lives. 

The Bible doesn’t tell us how much time to spend reading it or how many hours we must accrue to be “holy,” but it does tell us to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” (Mark 12:30) So instead of focusing on achieving the perfect Quiet Time in every season of our lives, let’s make our ordinary days–right now–into a loud time of celebrating how much we love him.

Heart Healing Words

Recently, my sister, Tanya, was experiencing episodes of a chaotic and irregular heartbeat. Not only did the electrical system in her heart seem to be misfiring at the most inopportune times, but the stress created by this uncertainty severely limited her active lifestyle. Finally, after a particularly scary event on her daily walk, Tanya made an appointment with a heart specialist and decided to receive a heart ablation per his recommendation. An ablation is a surgical procedure that is used to treat irregular or abnormal heart rhythms, and Tanya’s was successful. But the anxiety that had been created by this malady still haunted her, making her doubt the surgeon’s opinion. She still felt great fear every time she attempted anything that would raise her heart rate significantly. So, after many months of feeling like a victim of her unfortunate circumstances, Tanya revisited the surgeon and exclaimed, “I just want to be able to do the things I used to do!” and the doctor’s swift response was, “You can.” He told her that the procedure had healed her heart and that she should just stop thinking about it.  This whole experience was transformative for Tanya because she chose to completely trust the doctor and take him at his word. She knew that he was skilled and esteemed and she chose to believe that his action to heal her heart had been successful. She no longer needed to worry. She could do the things--walk, hike, run, rejoice--she used to do and she could do them with gusto.

 

Words have power to change how we feel about ourselves. Tanya believed the doctor’s declaration and it ushered her from fear to freedom.

 

If the words of men have the power to transform our lives, how much more the words of God? Do I truly believe the things God has spoken in the Bible? 

What does he really think of me? Here’s God’s honest truth:

1. GOD LOVES ME! Romans 8:38-39 tells us it’s true. The Creator of the universe thinks I am the cat’s pajamas (although none of my cats ever wore pajamas, I think this is a huge compliment!) 

2. I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY HIM. Not only chosen, but also an heir to an amazing inheritance with Jesus in Heaven (Ephesians 1:11-14)

3. I AM PRECIOUS AND HONORED. I love reading Isaiah 43 when I am feeling low or insignificant because I know if God calls me by name that I am special.

4. HE GIVES ME POWER TO CONQUER SIN. Sanctification is a long process of making mistakes and then turning back to God. The painful truth of the matter is that while I am in this world, sin will be present in my mortal body. However, I have a choice of whether to follow my sin or follow my Savior. God has given me a helper in the Holy Spirit–John calls it an Advocate–who can assist me in making good choices that glorify God. I won’t always make the right choice, but as a Christ-follower, I have been equipped for success by the Holy Spirit inside me.

5. I CAN’T OUT-SIN JESUS’ BLOOD. When I wallow in my missteps or carry my shame around as a punishment, I am telling Jesus that his sacrifice for me is not enough. But 1 John 1:9 tells us what is actually true: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Jesus' blood was enough for the whole world’s sin–including mine.

6. GOD IS MORE CONCERNED ABOUT MAKING ME HOLY THAN HAPPY. God does want me to have an abundant life, but that abundance may look different than I had envisioned because Father knows best and Tori thinks she knows best but doesn’t. This doesn’t mean that I have to fear things that God allows, but it does mean that in this world I will have trouble because the world is broken. I can be encouraged, though, because in the end, God wins.

7. MY LIFE REALLY ISN’T ABOUT ME AT ALL, IT’S ABOUT GOD. In this insta-world with abundant selfies and admonitions to follow my heart, I need to remember that my life needs to be focused on someone else: my Creator. He is the one who will meet all my needs, help me to thrive, and make me feel like I am worthy of love. Our narcissistic world does not provide hope. But my supreme God does: “For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy.” I am not “all that” but God is. He created me and he deserves all the glory. It’s so good for me to remember that.

People’s words can transform the way we think. God’s words can transform our very hearts. The Ultimate Physician has not only healed our hearts, he has poured his life--his righteousness--into them and he has told us so. Do we really believe him? The words he says about us are true, and when we do believe them, we can experience freedom to do the things we were designed to do--to run with freedom, not fear, and with gusto towards the beautiful life he has given us. Praise be to our Healer!

Update: Since first writing this piece, my sister has not only been able to start running, but she faced her anxiety head on by completing a MARATHON in November–with me!

 

STOP IT!

There is an old Bob Newhart skit where a woman enters his office (he is a psychologist) and tells him that she has one great fear; being buried alive in a box. After she elaborates and asks the doctor what she should do, he tells her, “I am going to say two words to you right now, and I want you to listen to them very very carefully, then take them out of the office with you and incorporate them into your life . . . STOP IT!” 

I have watched this over and over and laugh out loud at the doctor’s lack of finesse and empathy. But recently, because I am finally recognizing my constant negative feedback loop regarding myself and others, I have heard God saying, STOP IT! He doesn’t tell me to stop these damaging thoughts about myself and others because he lacks finesse or empathy like Bob Newhart. He is trying to change my thinking because he is sanctifying me. Sanctification means that he is making me into the very best Tori that I can be–the Tori he envisioned even before I was born. 

Because I have Christ’s Spirit in me, I can identify thoughts that originate from my sinful nature instead of my new nature, but I have no obligation to obey them because Scripture tells me that my old nature is no longer in charge: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”-- 2 Corinthians 5:17

When I notice that I am thinking about myself or another with dishonor or judgment, I can stop those thoughts in their tracks, and realize that those are the thoughts of the enemy, not God. I can tell Satan to STOP IT! He won’t win with me anymore. I don’t have to obey those thoughts–or him. I can choose to set my mind on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable . . .” (Philippians 4:8). 

I am a child of God, so I don’t have to be a prisoner of my own wrong thinking. I don’t have to allow Satan to have victory in my thought life. I can take charge by telling myself to STOP IT! when I head down the well-worn path of negative thinking. This will not only change my thinking but my feelings about myself and others.

Sin no longer can dominate me because I have died to it. And now my new self is being made into the image of my Creator. The thoughts I have about myself and others should be hope-filled and not condemning because Romans 8:1 tells me that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. How liberating!

It seems like after nearly forty years of following Jesus that I would recognize the power I possess as his child, but God only gives us understanding of his ways little by little, and sometimes those little epiphanies show themselves when we need them most. God has been faithful to lead me in the past. He will faithfully lead me now. When he shows me my sinful thinking, I need to choose to STOP IT!, repent it, and run back into the safe arms of my sweet Jesus.

 

You Do You?

This is a repost from a few years ago. Someone said this ubiquitous phrase to me the other day and I remembered that I had written about somewhere. That somewhere was on my very own blog. Check it out: 

My children, who are now grown and think I am old and peculiar will often respond to my strange habits or proclivities with “you do you.”  I used to think this was funny, and actually kind of empowering, since I do think and act differently than your average millennial.  But, as I mulled it over in my old, peculiar brain, I decided that “you do you” was pretty bad advice theologically. 

If I followed the mantra of “you do you,” I would eat only tortilla chips and salted (not ‘lightly salted’) almonds and Breyer’s Cookies and Cream Ice Cream.  And I would drink only ice water (with good ice) and extra hot hazelnut coffee from Panera (with plenty of half and half), with an occasional Diet Coke fountain drink thrown in (not into the coffee of course) for good measure (again, good ice).  I would lie in my hammock for days on end and read stacks of books and sleep.  I would rarely leave my house unless I ran out of the above-mentioned foods.  And I would wake up in the morning around 9:30am and wear a hat every day because I would never fix my hair. I would use parenthesis liberally.

If I followed the mantra of “you do you,” I would take every opportunity to tell you why you are wrong, and I am right.  I would complain incessantly about anything and everything.  I would criticize the way you thought and dressed and spoke.  And if those words that you spoke hurt me, I would not forgive you.

If I followed the mantra of “you do you,” I would believe that I was too bad to enter God’s presence; that I was too small to gain his attention; that I was too far gone to deserve his forgiveness. 

And I would be right.

Because if I followed the mantra of “you do you,” I wouldn’t be able to restrain my tendencies to hurt and to hate.  I wouldn’t be capable of forgiveness and flourishing.  I wouldn’t be fit to come close to God.

So, I have decided instead to live by “you do Jesus,” since the whole “you do you” just isn’t gonna cut it. 

If I live by the mantra, “you do Jesus,” I can retrain my brain and restrain my body to make it healthy and holy. 

If I live by the mantra, “you do Jesus,” I can measure my words and monitor my mouth and renew my mind.

If I live by the mantra, “you do Jesus,” I can not only forgive the ones I hold captive, I, myself, can be forgiven!  I can become fit because he was forsaken; lifted up because he brought himself low!  I can give him my rags of shame and gain his robe of splendor! 

If I live by the mantra “you do Jesus,” I can come close to God!

So, really, you don’t want me to do me. 

The me you see now is Jesus in me, slowly (oh, so slowly), but ever so surely working out my salvation for his glory.  I am learning to walk in his ways (clumsily, imperfectly, even sometimes disobediently), and he is making me into the Tori he intended before the world began.

I am learning to rest in his love. 

Next time you hear “you do you,” don’t let it fool you.  And don’t let it make you a fool.

Don’t “you do you.”  Hide yourself in Jesus instead.

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Colossians 3:1-4

Red Bird Devotions #30

One Ear Open

When my kids were just babies, and even when they got older, I could sleep soundly yet somehow wake to their slightest sigh.  I think mamas have this special ability--probably because they are so sleep deprived--to drift off, yet still listen for their very precious ones.  Oftentimes, my kids would just be crying in their sleep or reacting to a confusing dream, but I would hear them; then I would rise from my comfy bed and go to check on them.  I wanted to make sure all was well. Only when I knew they were safe could I go back to sleeping--with one ear open. 

Shouldn’t we do that with God too?  This world is very noisy. We can get lost in distraction. But, if we tune our ears to listen for even his slightest movement, his still small voice, we will be able to discern his “movement” even when our minds are elsewhere.  If we learn to listen with one ear open while we are going about our daily lives, we will be amazed at all he will show us.  Sometimes he may say, “Look at my sunrise.  I did it for you!” Or, “See that angry young woman? She needs you to notice her.”  Or “Even though you have been offended, offer grace.” Or sometimes, he will just say, “Slow down, Tori.  I need you to quit working and sit at my feet and listen.”  That’s when I need to stop, be silent, and open both ears wide.

When I tune my mama ears to listen to my Father, I learn the patterns, the cadences, the intonation of his voice. I see my small part in his big plan and I’m willing to move when he calls. 

Then, when I hear him stirring, I can rise from my grogginess, my forgetfulness, and my selfishness; I can rush into his presence saying, “Abba, Father, I am here!”

Abba, Father, I am here!

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" 

Isaiah 6:8

“Be still and know that I am God.”  Psalm 46:10