Captivation: Ruth

Like every other little girl in my Sunday school class, I wanted to find a Bible story heroine to emulate. Esther was too fancy and dramatic for me. My sister already shared judge Deborah’s name so I couldn’t choose her. Sarah laughed at God—probably not a good example to follow. And then, I met Ruth.

She shared my grandmother’s name. She was loyal, persistent, faithful, trusting, and lovely. In times of difficulty rather than choose the security of her father’s home and possible remarriage, she bound herself to Naomi. Why would she do that? Naomi freed her, but Ruth persisted. Why would Ruth choose to go to Bethlehem and possibly never return to her people? Why would Ruth choose to be the distrusted foreigner and the willing servant of Naomi? Why would Ruth choose Yahweh?

I didn’t know. I wanted to know. And so every year, I come back to the story of Ruth. And each time, I love her more. To me, Ruth lives out the definition of a Proverbs 31 woman although for the majority of her story we only know her as a widow. Life has been hard for her; yet, she still chooses to trust in Naomi and ultimately Yahweh.

My sophomore year at Bethel sitting under a mosquito net in Jarabocoa, Dominican Republic, I threw myself into the Bible. Rather than being a part of the Bethel experience like all of my friends, I lived with a Dominican family, struggled with a new language, and taught preschoolers in this new language. It was hard. I thought I would love every second of it. I didn’t. Paul’s letters comforted me even from 2000 years away. And Ruth, she gave me perspective.

I saw her working the fields of Boaz missing her family and the land where she was accepted. I saw Ruth’s tears that surely sprinkled the ground of the fields in her weaker moments as she realized that she would never return to Moab. When people called her cruel names, I recognized her resolute tensing of jaw and her eyes trained forward. I felt joy bloom in my own heart as Boaz showed her favor.

And I knew that in less than three months, I would return to my family, my country, my comfort zone—but forever leave Ruth in her foreign land. No longer would I deal with culturally confusing and bemusing things, but Ruth was destined to continue her struggle. Yet, Ruth had new hopes and dreams founded in this land where she would still always be stamped a foreigner simply because of her physical appearance. Ruth was different. So was I—in the D. R. She comforted me with her steadfastness. She set an example of cheerful obedience. She caused me to ask the question, “Would I voluntarily leave my family and culture forever to follow God?”

I don’t know. I do know that I desire to surrender the entirety of my life to Yahweh. If that means truly fulfilling the meaning of the name Barbara, so be it. As 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, “And we, with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory which comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” I want to live a life unveiled before man and God so that all may see my transformation into His image.

Ruth lived out quiet surrender of her own desires. For most of my life, I have hated the word “surrender”. To me, it was weakness. To me, it meant allowing others to call you mean names. No, I wanted to be a strong, independent woman. Imagine my surprise when I looked over my life and realized that every good thing in my life came after I surrendered.

Ruth surrendered her old life. She resigned whatever reputation she had in her own land. Ruth submitted her hopes of marriage to a Moab man when she left. She yielded to her mother-in-
law’s dreams of home. Voluntarily, Ruth relinquished the security of her culture.

God noted all of this. He raised her up. He gave her Boaz. He blessed their marriage
with children. And then, God permitted her to be a part of the bloodline for Jesus.

When I see Ruth’s life and her voluntary surrender, I recognize a woman that I want to emulate. As a side note, Ruth’s name means “friendship” stemming from Hebrew. I wonder if her name was always Ruth or if she was renamed.

courtesy of Loaves&Fishes

Living Lovely

Hands on the steering wheel and eyes trained on the road, I sat slouched in the driver’s seat headed towards home for a wedding. One of my best friends from high school sat next to me and her boyfriend lounged behind her in the backseat. Conversation flowed easily around school activities and life as we tried to make up for the months of minimal conversation and no visits. Sitting next to {J}, I could not help but notice that she and her boyfriend always seemed to be touching. Nothing was inappropriate. They just reveled in the other’s presence. An hour away from our destination, {J} climbed into the backseat with her boyfriend {P}. Suddenly, I became chauffer. I took the opportunity to ask them, “What have been the most challenging and growing thing about your relationship?” {P} thought for a moment and replied, “I have never been so known by another human being. It’s both good and terrifying.”

Reading through Crazy Love by Francis Chan, a chapter that resonated deeply with me used this title, “When You’re in Love.” As far as I know, I have never been in love. Yet, I see what love looks like. My mother is forever serving the widows on my street by doing chores for them, bringing them food, and just visiting them. That is love. My father sits on the couch every night and rubs my mother’s feet. That is love. The chapter gave the example of Grandma Clara who spent many hours in prayer and how just the sight of that space “would bring joy-filled tears and a deep anticipation of the next morning spent kneeling in His presence” (Chan 100). Upon reading that, I circled it and wrote in the margin, “May I be like this please?” During the summer, I delighted in spending hours with Jesus. One specific occasion, my cousins grumbled at the amount of time I had spent in devotion to my Lord Jesus. I could only smile and say, “This time is so good because during the school year I just don’t have the amount of time that I want to spend with Jesus.”

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When people see {J} and {P} together, their affection is apparent. If people cannot see their exchanged small smiles and eye connections, they can most definitely see their desire to be always touching. This is how I want to be with Jesus. I want my love for Him to be full of small smiles, heart connections, and hand holding.

Part of loving is giving. It means serving your neighbors, your friends, your spouse, and your co-workers. In the chapter entitled “Your Best Life … Later”, Chan talks about giving liberally and generously and God will bless it. With a red pen, I boxed this paragraph in writing beside it, “What does this look like?” Truly, I want to know what it is to give liberally and totally as often as possible. Giving of yourself and loving your neighbors is not easy. You have to go out of your way to find a way to serve those around you. When my family first moved into a new neighborhood, we knew no one. People did their own thing. Yet, when winter rolled around, my mom began a secret mission. When it snowed, we all bundled up and shoveled our elderly neighbors’ driveways. We were eventually found out, but not before we earned the name “Snow Angels.” My mother always had time to serve our neighbors. Now that I am not at home, I have to find new ways to serve. I don’t live in a neighborhood, but I do live in a community of a dormitory.

I deeply desire to be obsessed with Jesus and His heart. Francis Chan gives a “Profile of the Obsessed” in a chapter. With each section, I have underlined and scribbled notes by sections – each a plea that I might become a picture of this profile. Yet, it is so scary. Of course, I do not become obsessed in one day. It’s a step by step process of love. My father tells me often, “I love your mother more today than I did yesterday and even on our wedding day.” I always ask, “Really?” I just cannot believe that love can keep growing. My dad responds emphatically to my doubting question with a firm “yes”. If my father knew the difficulties, he would face in his marriage to my mom when they first started out he wouldn’t have been able to deal with it. Step by day, my dad loves my mom more deeply because of this daily journey. Human love is very different than the perfect love of a savior; however, this earthly love and examples of it from my parents have hugely influenced me to love more like Jesus in my own life.

Forever, I seem to disgust myself with my selfishness. Living in a family, you are always given a chance to serve family members. College is such a me-focused place. Of course, homework should be finished. Sleep is necessary. When I have the opportunity to serve, school seems to interfere. A lot of people would probably describe me as loving; yet, I know that I have so far to go. I desire to live in the Spirit and love people as Jesus did. If I love Jesus, generosity and obsession shall follow. Already, I love Jesus and I am generous while occasionally being obsessive. Of course, I want to be crazy in love with Jesus – that’s different than being a good person or good Christian.

Giving Life

Do you give blood? I give blood. No, not every time. When I can, I give blood. Generally when I tell girls that I plan on giving blood, they get all shivery and squirmy on me as though by saying "give blood" I have physically become the nightmarish needle.

Hey, I don't like needles anymore than the next person; however, why should I be afraid of something that I will have to deal with at least annually at the doctor's? Shots and needles will plague us so do the mind-over-matter thing. It's more or less worked for me.

I give blood when I can (usually I can't give blood because I've traveled out of the country). I give blood because why can I not suffer the pain of maybe ten minutes to an hour so maybe another person can be given some of life's blood? If I were dying or in dire need of healthy blood, I would want people to willingly donate their blood so I might live another day.

My experiences of donating blood have not been rosy - actually far from it. You see, I have small veins. A majority of the time, the needle must be moved while in my arm to get the vein since it is missed upon the first try. To say that the pain is not bad would be a terrible lie. I have a high pain threshold. The pain of that small needle being moved in my arm has taken me very close to fainting multiple times.

Why do I still give blood?

I consider my discomfort and pain small compared to the pain of the person that needs my blood.

Rainbow Signature

This morning, I rolled groggily out of bed to go jogging with a friend. As it draws closer to winter, it becomes more and more difficult to get out of bed so early in the morning with the cool darkness still holding the world. My friend and I jogged our usual. At the end of it, we were greeted by a splendid spillage of light streaming forth from the sun’s awakening.

We gasped in awe of the beauty streaking around us. When we turned back to return the way we had come, the contrast of sky struck us. We had jogged from darkness and had run to the light. Unfortunately, our path called us back to the darkness we had run from. As we walked, the light followed us - slowly overpowering the darkness.

As my friend and I approached the place where we would leave the river, a rainbow began its ascent into the sky. Every color of the rainbow stood out vibrantly – even a deep shade of indigo and violet. My friend and I wrapped our arms around each other. Gaping in awe and grinning in giddiness, she and I wondered at this colorful signature of God.

For it could be nothing less. We ran from darkness, but we were called back to it. And with our faithful steps, God promised that He would never leave nor forsake us. And then, HE signed the sky with a full arch of a rainbow and a gossamer gleam of another rainbow.

He is faithful.

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thoughts

All of this week, I feel that I have walked around with a permanent crease in my forehead. I have been thinking about what joy is and how it could ever factor into suffering. I don't even know where to begin in all of this.

Recently, I have been musing over blessings and what God's blessing looks like which brings me to the song "Blessings" by Laura Story. Truly, it requires me to redefine what I consider to be blessing.

Another thought bouncing around in my head has to do with Job. A speaker yesterday said, "I've heard other preachers say that it's okay for us to be angry with God because HE can take it. Oh, He CAN take it. Of course, have you ever read Job? God sits him down and takes him to task."

God can taking our yelling. Oh, yes. But, can we take HIS? I don't think so.

Job 40

Memorization

I'm not much of a memorizer. That was always my sister. This summer, I memorized this entire chapter from Isaiah. It was a different version. However, I decided that I liked the expounded version of this one compared to the one that I memorized. I think this chapter is rich because it spills forth the promises of God. He doesn't think like we do and still He promises so much to us. So be joyous for there is a God in Heaven who desires to fulfill promises to us.

"Hey there! All who are thirsty,
come to the water!
Are you penniless?
Come anyway—buy and eat!
Come, buy your drinks, buy wine and milk.
Buy without money—everything's free!
Why do you spend your money on junk food,
your hard-earned cash on cotton candy?
Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best,
fill yourself with only the finest.
Pay attention, come close now,
listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words.
I'm making a lasting covenant commitment with you,
the same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love.
I set him up as a witness to the nations,
made him a prince and leader of the nations,
And now I'm doing it to you:
You'll summon nations you've never heard of,
and nations who've never heard of you
will come running to you
Because of me, your God,
because The Holy of Israel has honored you."
Seek God while he's here to be found,
pray to him while he's close at hand.
Let the wicked abandon their way of life
and the evil their way of thinking.
Let them come back to God, who is merciful,
come back to our God, who is lavish with forgiveness.

"I don't think the way you think.
The way you work isn't the way I work."
God's Decree.
"For as the sky soars high above earth,
so the way I work surpasses the way you work,
and the way I think is beyond the way you think.
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
and don't go back until they've watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
not come back empty-handed.
They'll do the work I sent them to do,
they'll complete the assignment I gave them.
"So you'll go out in joy,
you'll be led into a whole and complete life.
The mountains and hills will lead the parade,
bursting with song.
All the trees of the forest will join the procession,
exuberant with applause.
No more thistles, but giant sequoias,
no more thornbushes, but stately pines—
Monuments to me, to God,
living and lasting evidence of God."

Captivation: Perfectionism

Perfectionism.

(more on Perfectionism)

It eats my happiness.
Perfectionism creates a fear within me that I shall not be enough and that the work I do will not be enough to please those around me. Sometimes, it freezes me up so much that I can't move even a teeny tiny step forward.

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I'd love to be perfect. To be perfect would mean no mistakes and no fear of anything - after all, I would be perfect.

Perfectionism - "a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less." (found at dictionary.com)

The pursuit of perfection is life-draining, throat-numbing, failure-focusing, hand-trembling, brain-short-circuiting, depression-inducing, workaholic-making, and just plain unsatisfying.

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Mistakes are rarely world-ending. After all, has the world ended yet? Nah, it still seems somewhat intact although it does seem to be hanging on by only a few threads in some places. Mistakes create learning experiences. Mistakes remind us that we are imperfect individuals (we can relate to complete strangers in our imperfections).

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Perfectionism. It puts a bad taste in my mouth. I am not perfect. I shall never be perfect. My desire to reach perfection is like trying to reach Nirvana. Impossible.

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I hate that I'm not perfect. I hate my brokeness. I'm not perfect and I have nothing to offer. And yet. And yet, a flawless and perfect God loves me. He chooses to pursue me, a girl who terrorized babysitters and teachers alike with my stubborn, pig-headed ways - a girl with a sullied heart. Although I was once a curse, He's has turned me into a blessing. This Creator God who could have turned away from His creation chooses rather to turn toward His creation with love. He bought my heart with His life (when I give it away for much less). He died for me. He scarred Himself for me.

I am imperfect meaning that I'm a bit broken in places. It's a good thing that this God who loves me is in the business of healing.

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Instead of chasing perfectionism, I think I will chill in the presence of a perfect God who accepts me in my imperfection and is making me into something new.

Silly Fear, Get Out of my Life!

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves 'who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. "
~ Marianne Williamson

"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one."
~ Elbert Hubbard

"Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy."
~ Dale Carnegie

"Thinking will not overcome fear but action will."
~ W. Clement Stone

Most of my summer so far has been me experiencing new challenges in every area of my life. Suddenly, I'm realizing that somehow I need to balance growth in every area of my life. How do I manage all of this? I don't know. Mostly, I'm just afraid. I'm afraid of failure. I'm afraid of disappointing those I love. I'm afraid of wasting peoples' time. I don't sing in the shower anymore. I brood. I don't dance much anymore because I'm afraid people will see. I stare into the sky. How glad am I that God is not legalistic and that I don't have to follow a bajillion rules to please Him. I'd fail or never start following the rules because I'd be afraid of messing up. Silly me, allowing fear to sap the strength from the bones and the smile from my face. Apparently, I need to get busy and not dwell on this fear. :)

May you live in freedom today and kick the spirit of fear out of your life.

A Shroud of Grace

Entering the dimly lit room, our ears immediately recognized the high sweet strains of a woman’s voice blending with the lower voice of her male guitar playing companion. While they sang, a large group of people sat with somber faces. Some joined the couple in their singing and others seemed focused elsewhere in their thoughts. As my friends and I sought seats amongst the crowd, the quietness of the place took hold in our minds. Usually a rambunctious lot, our lips barely opened throughout our time in this space. Little children noises punctuated the quiet as babies gurgled and toddlers whispered to their parents. Soft music dictated the mood of the people.

Around the room, candles flickered. Some reclined on pedestals upon the stage where the couple sang and other candles danced on the tables sitting in front of the crowd. To the sound of the crooning of a cello, a French horn yodeled in melody. Pictures hung on the walls. Each picture had a conglomeration of brown and black with resolute faces staring out. Often, one specific shirtless man continued to show up in these pictures. The people depicted in these pictures looked seriously out at the crowd gathered on this night. Projected on the screen behind those devoted to the musical aspect of this evening, a rugged picture filled with shadows portrayed a man with head bowed and arms limply sprawled out from his body.

The people gathered in the room had an odd expectancy. Even young children although fidgety waited in a hushed interest. When beckoned to sing, most everyone joined in regardless of age or sex. Unlike other concerts, it seemed as though every individual thought about the words that came out of their mouths. Occasionally, a mother stood to take her baby from the room. A couple of times, a person shared a long passage from a book. The people in the room hung upon every word shared. Finally, at the request of a man on the stage, people filtered to the front of the stage. One by one, each person stood in front of a man with a small container of black soot. When they walked away, a dark cross stood out on their forehead.