Do sheets still drop from the sky?

 

“The next day as Cornelius’s messengers were nearing the town, Peter went up on the flat roof to pray. It was about noon, and he was hungry. But while a meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance. He saw the sky open, and something like a large sheet was let down by its four corners. In the sheet were all sorts of animals, reptiles, and birds. Then a voice said to him, ‘Get up, Peter; kill and eat them.’

‘No, Lord,’ Peter declared. ‘I have never eaten anything that our Jewish laws have declared impure and unclean.’

But the voice spoke again: ‘Do not call something unclean if God has made it clean.’ The same vision was repeated three times. Then the sheet was suddenly pulled up to heaven.” Acts 10:9-16

I have to admit there have been times that I was jealous of Peter’s experience here. I am not proud of my jealousy by any means. I have longed for the “neon sign” or the “sheet to drop from the heavens” so that I would know what I was supposed to do in potentially life changing circumstances. Those circumstances seem so petty in comparison to the circumstances leading to Peter’s “heavenly sheet” experience. None the less, I wanted that assurance, that clear, undeniable guidance given directly from God. The only problem is that God only did that once in scripture for Peter (that we know of) and it is pretty arrogant to think he would do it for me. Who am I do ask such a thing?

Well, the most amazing thing happened. I had a “neon sign” or “sheet drop from heaven” experience. Okay, there was not an actual neon sign or a literal sheet dropping from the heavens. I did not enter into a trance or hear the audible voice of God. I did get some of the most confirming moments of my life in regards to a life changing situation. I did get goose bump clear direction from the God who created me. I did get “that never happens” incidents. God loves me so much that he chose to give me what I needed but did not ask for, not this time anyway, the “heavenly sheet.”

Here is the scoop in a nutshell.

I have been seeking a Lead Pastor position for the past six months. I had my resume out to several churches and I was waiting. Then out of the blue I received an email about a position that I didn’t even know existed in a town that I didn’t know existed. Fast forward several weeks and my husband and I found ourselves in a lovely living room full of passionate people who were hoping that I might be the right fit for their church. Before we know it the still small voice of God is speaking to me and my husband about selling our house, a house that we originally were going to keep as a rental - “heavenly sheet” number one.

Now two months later, I sit in my living room that soon will be someone else’s living room. “Heavenly sheet” number two, was a unanimous ‘yes’ vote from the congregation to call me as their next pastor. And last but not least, “heavenly sheet” number three was getting and accepting an offer on our house after only 4 days on the market. The packing has begun and logistics are being worked out as we prepare to move to Indiana where I will become the Lead Pastor of a church poised to make an impact on its community. We are excited as we get ready to begin this new adventure. The comment that me and my husband keep saying to each other through this whole process, “This is crazy!”  

To be clear, I am in no way claiming to have had the same experience as Peter in the above passage. I do not equate this little moment in my life with the world altering encounter that Peter had with God in that moment. All I am saying is that God still speaks clearly to his people. He can give you the “neon sign” or the “heavenly sheet” and when he does, respond and follow. It may be terrifying or thrilling or both. Take the leap, you won’t regret it.

Where has God given clear guidance in your life? What are you going to do about it?

The Power of Loving Well

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and as I ponder what I am thankful for the usual come to mind: my relationship with Jesus, my family and friends, a roof over my head, food on my table, and clothes on my back. Then it hit me, at this moment in time I am beyond grateful for my husband. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for all those things I listed formerly. I never want to take those things for granted; however, today I am struck by the gift that my husband is to me. Let me explain. You see, I am a strong woman and it is not always easy to be married to me. I am opinionated, sometimes stubborn, and a lot of times passionate, animated,…hmmm…and a verbal processor (poor guy!).

Since our first date just over 24 years ago, my husband has done the most amazing thing. He has let me become who I am becoming. He has done no intentional chiseling, molding, or shaping of me with one exception – his love for me. His love is so selfless; so true; so deep; so beautiful. It has shaped me, molded me, and chiseled me. It has helped me to become who I am today and who I will be tomorrow.

Many may see my strength and think that my husband must weak or that I “wear the pants in the family.” Those people are wrong. It takes an extraordinarily strong man to choose to partner for life with a strong woman. Not with the purpose of “breaking her” but with the purpose of helping her fly.

My husband is a flesh and blood reflection of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.  It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance” (NLT).

For this I am beyond grateful. 

How can you love those around you well? Is it your love that is shaping and molding those around you or your will? May we each strive to love well and in so doing transform the world around us.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Show Me Your I.D.

Mural by: BMCC Arts Camp 2015

Recently my husband and I took a trip to meet our future daughter-in-law (she is lovely, by the way) and to visit dear friends who moved to Georgia several years ago. On our return journey we had an experience I would rather not repeat. I was the one who booked all of our flights and least expensive (aka cheap) was high priority. Now I must explain that neither my husband nor I have done a lot of flying in the U.S. We do not know which airports are great and which ones are nightmares. Well, now we know one that is less than stellar! We were flying from Atlanta to our home town via Detroit. We arrive in Detroit, exhausted and hungry. We do what every traveler does when they arrive at a new airport. We get out our boarding pass and check the boards for our connecting flight. It wasn't there. We check the terminal map to find our concourse. It wasn't there. We begin to look around in that "you've got to be kidding me" way, trying to determine where we needed to be. Out of the corner of my eye I spied an information desk. Bingo! Holding up my boarding pass and pointing to our needed gate I ask, in a voice tinged with exhausted desperation, "Where is concourse D?" After having been informed that we must catch a terminal to terminal shuttle, being given less than helpful directions to said shuttle, my husband and I found ourselves waiting on a curb for the shuttle that would take us to our assigned terminal. As the shuttle is making its way on streets with more potholes than I thought possible, I have a realization. . . we will have to go through security again. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for our security system at our airports but having to go through security more than once in the same day is some kind of cruel joke. We stand in line, holding our boarding pass and I.D. The closer I get to the TSA agent at the podium the more nervous I get. She is pretty firm and seems like maybe her day has not gone well. I wait by the sign as directed as she checks in the person in front of me. She calls me forward and I dutifully hand her my boarding pass and my I.D. She looks at my paperwork and then asks, "Kathryn, who is traveling with you today?" Bewildered, I answer while pointing behind me, "My husband." In our exhaustion and frenzy of finding our mysterious concourse, I had grabbed his boarding pass which was now in the hands of this TSA agent with my I.D. The problem of course was that they didn't match! She very graciously checked us both in, much to my relief. No reprimand or frustrated look, just grace.

There are many things that identify us as individuals - our name; our gender; our age; our physical features; our relationship status; our job title; our past; our present; our passport or driver's license; our birth certificate. None of these things on their own, or sometimes even together, truly define our identity. Yes, I am a female, who is ahem. . .shall we say "not in her thirties anymore" years old, a mother, a wife, a pastor, a daughter, a sister, etc. All of those things are a part of who I am, but where does my true identity lie?

I wrestled this out recently and will likely find need to wrestle it further as I continue to live on this planet. I had experienced discouragement over an issue that had to do with the fact that I am a female in a male dominated profession. My gender is oft times considered first and my gifts, talents and experience considered second. This angered me. It wasn't fair. It threatened to be a defining part of my identity. It threatened to shape me into a jaded, cynical woman. It threatened to jail and silence my true identity. It threatened to slowly poison my soul with a lie.

This is what I discovered as I wrestled with God in regards to the path he has laid before me and the voices around me loudly saying it was going to be more difficult, more challenging, it would take longer, all because of one small piece of my human identity - my gender. I cried. I prayed. I cried some more. Then that still small voice, that voice that I know is not mine or my enemy's, that voice that whispers to my soul like deep calling to deep said, "Kathy, your identity lies in the heart of the One who created you, not in the human heart." Whoa! These words were not only salve to my hurting heart but life to my very soul. This meant that I didn't have to pay any attention to the voices telling me that my gender was an obstacle. This meant that I didn't have to pay any attention to the voices that made it sound impossible. I didn't even have to pay attention to my own voice that was telling me that I should prepare for battle against this injustice. A battle that surely would have led to me becoming a hard, jaded, cynical woman who would be of no use to the kingdom of God. I found freedom as these words destroyed the jail that was being constructed around my identity.

Here is my new identity, not new really but ancient. I am a person made in the image of the living God. I am a woman who is a masterpiece, a thing of amazing beauty to the One who created me. I am loved not because of my gifts and talents, or because of what I do or don't do. I am loved because according to God, I am worth dying for. These are not my words but his.

"So God created mankind in his own image,

in the image of God he created them;

male and female he created them." (Genesis 1:27)

"For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." (Ephesians 2:10)

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)

I am working on embracing my identity each day. Reminding myself that I am still becoming who God created me to be. I have "good things" that God has planned for me to do. Each step of growth brings me closer to the next "good thing." Each step towards my true identity brings me closer to the One who created it. It is a worthy journey.

Whose voice are you listening to today in regards to your identity? May you choose to seek out your identity that lies in the heart of your Creator.

Clean Slate Club

Have you ever just wanted to pick up and move to a new town or city where no one knows you: where you can get a fresh start; where you can remake yourself; where you can start with a clean slate? Many people do just that. They pick up and move. For many it can be a leap of faith of sorts. Moving without a job or a place to live. For others it has been long in the making, much preparation has gone into a new beginning.  Some are very successful. They take the opportunity of a fresh start and run with it. They intentionally choose a different path than the one they left behind. A healthier, happier path. One that involves doing the hard work that they have avoided in the past. Others are not so successful. They bring their old habits and hang ups with them. They choose to seek out the same unhealthy relationships with people that pull them backwards instead of forward. They choose to repeat past patterns that land them in the same misery they experienced in their previous community. Their fresh start, their clean slate ends up dingy and dirty after only a short time.

Is there really the possibility of a clean start? Can we just move to a new locale and magically become a different person? The short answer is, "No."

We bring all of our emotional, spiritual, relational baggage with us wherever we go. Until we deal with those issues and even when we do, we cannot be magically wiped clean.

There is one person who can wipe at least one part of our past clean. Jesus Christ can give us a clean slate in regards to the punishment for the sins we have committed. Through him we find healing. "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5, NIV). That being said, he cannot do the hard work for us of processing and healing from past abuses, from old wounds, from pain inflicted by our fellow man. We have to do that. The good news is that he will walk with us each step of the way helping us to keep moving forward.

So a clean slate, a fresh start without any baggage, that magically happens? No. A second chance, sins wiped clean, hope? Yes and Amen! A new life, a new direction, a path to healing and wholeness? Absolutely! Found in the journey of following Christ, one step at time. A journey that may not be easy or quick but worth every drop of sweat, worth every tear shed. Why? To become a person shaped by their past but not controlled by it. A person who embraces who they are and strives to be who they are continuing to become. A person who looks beyond themselves and grasps the divine. That is the type of clean slate, I want.

What baggage are you carrying around today that is keeping you from going a new direction? What are you reaching for today?

the Weight of Waiting

I have a hidden talent and when you hear what it is you are going to be green with envy or maybe not. You see, I have this innate ability to choose the wrong line. It does not matter which store I enter, when I arrive at the front of the store with my cart or arms full of merchandise to purchase, 9 times out of 10 I choose the wrong line. It's a gift, I know! Even when I carefully observe the amount of items others in line have to purchase, the speed of the checker, their chattiness or lack thereof, I still choose the slowest line in the joint. My record is 10 for 10 when I am in a hurry. When I have to be somewhere else at a certain time and that time is fast approaching...wrong line. There I stand with my foot tapping, mind mentally clicking down the minutes while simultaneously trying to decide if I hop to another line. Fear keeps me stuck in the same line. Fear that if I move to another line it might actually be slower. Fear that if I walk away from my spot, as bad as it is, I will lose said spot and thereby cause myself to wait even longer. You see my conundrum?!

Why is waiting so difficult? Why does five minutes in line at the store seem like forever? I spend five times that looking at social media thinking I am only spending a measly five minutes. It's all relative. All waiting is relative to the object of our waiting.

I find myself hating the waiting. Waiting for the door to open. Waiting to get to where I am going. Waiting for my timing to line up with God's timing. Just waiting.

I know that waiting is not a new thing. In fact is it quite an ancient thing. The scriptures are full of waiting. Psalms has much to say on the theme of waiting on the Lord. Here are just a few.

"Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD" (Psalm 27:14, NIV).

"We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield" (Psalm 33:20, NIV).

"Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him" (Psalm 37:7a, NIV).

"I wait for the LORD, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope" (Psalm 130:5, NIV).

I understand that what I am waiting for is nothing compared to being delivered from enemies who are out to do me physical harm or being enslaved by another country like the psalmists. I get that my life is not horrible. It is actually pretty good. That being said, I still hate waiting.

"Lean into it," people say. "Focus on learning what you need to learn during this time," they say. These well-meaning words are nice and all but not very helpful.

So, what is my point? Waiting is difficult. Waiting can be miserable and frustrating. Waiting can seem like forever. How I decide to spend my time waiting is what matters. In the slow line at the store, I can either tap my toes in frustration or have a conversation with the other people in line. While looking at closed doors, I can either get mad or I can keep moving forward by trying another door.

I want to live life while I wait.  

What are you waiting for? How do you live life while waiting? Share your best tips for making waiting bearable.