Be a rushing river.

I’ve had a running deal with God that whenever I wake up each morning, I’ll stay up and spend the time with him. It’s tempting to go back to sleep, to horde as much rest as possible. But the idea of a loving heavenly Father waking me up to come soak in His love has taken on an alluring sweetness.

So we’re back in Minnesota after 5 weeks on the road. And I’m back on the porch each morning, reveling in the sweetness of His Presence. It’s 30 degrees cooler, but He’s still meeting me, speaking to me, showing His affection.

As I thought about the constant in-pouring of God’s presence, I heard Him say to me, “You have no reason to horde.” I thought about the way I’ve often withheld my love, and time, and energy from my family, fearing that I would somehow “run out” of resources. I’ve defended my relational boundaries tenatiously because I don’t trust people to care for me. I’ve horded sleep, and energy, and food, and time, and personal space because sometimes I’m scared that there won’t be enough to go around.

The difference is between a rushing river and a stagnant pond. One works hard to protect what it has. It doesn’t gain and it doesn’t lose. It attracts some interesting life forms and starts to smell after awhile. A river is constantly pouring out because it is constantly receiving. It’s a conduit rather than a cesspool. And because it is built on a hill, it doesn’t have much of a choice.  If there is no water, it runs dry.

It’s easy to be a river in the spring when water is always available. But the constant challenge of my life is to trust God enough that when His presence seems to run dry, I can keep pouring out, keep loving, and remember the smell of rain and the sound of fast water.

¹⁰ Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
   the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
¹¹ I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
   yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
¹² I will consider all your works
   and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”

(Ps. 74:10-12)

Time to recharge.

I’m in Seattle. It rains here. All. The. Time.

There’s a certain coziness to constant cloud cover. It makes you want to stay home under a blanket, watch the first season of Heroes and sip fresh-pressed apple cider from the Yakima fruit market. I couldn’t live here, but I can do it for week.

We’ve been meeting mostly with Debra’s friends out here. While I’ve truly enjoyed meeting new people and connecting with them for the first time, I’m aware that only a certain level of trust and friendship can be established in a single meeting. My desire to connect with people, to bless and encourage them, and to cast a vision for what we’re doing…. It’s hard to do in 2 hours with no prior history. This is different than my meetings in Colorado, where I had relationships with people and connections happened quickly.

So I’m adjusting to the reality of 1 meeting a day instead of 5, to a different quality of connection, and to the simple fact that no matter how late we sleep in, we’re running out of steam. It’s tough because I want to communicate clearly to people just how excited we are about the ministry we’re doing. I want to really cast a vision for what we’re about, but it seems to come out muddled.

It was easier at the start when I was waking up, spending time with God, being reminded of God’s “bigger picture” for my life on a daily basis. It’s harder when I’m traveling and staying in other peoples’ homes to take the time and intentionality to daily check in with God. Not impossible. Just harder. And to some degree I know that I won’t be able to fully plug back in until I get back into some kind of rhythm at home. I feel like God intentionally poured out His love and presence on me each morning for six weeks from August to mid-September, knowing it would have to sustain me throughout this trip.

So far, it has. In spite of intense testing and challenges, I haven’t seriously doubted the depth and intensity of God’s love and pursuit. I’ve maintained a steady faith in God’s faithfulness and purpose.

But I have also been feeling a slow drain and a desire to rest and recharge.

One week to go, then home to Minnesota.

A desert. A test.

You haven't heard from me in awhile. That's because I've been struggling. It's not as fun to check in when all is not well. And the last week or so, I've been wrestling with beliefs I've held and the one's I feel are being proffered to me in a sometimes-intense spiritual battle.

Before I left on this trip, I believe God told me that I would soon encounter a time of testing similar to Jesus' temptation in the desert. Previously God had been hammering home his love, acceptance, and providence every day in powerful morning encounters with the palpable presence of God. One day he told me this new way of thinking and believing would need to be tested. He laid out 3 major lines the Enemy would use to test my faith:

1. That productivity determines my worth.
2. That God will not care for my heart.
3. That I'll be able to make my own way in life and provide for my own needs.

Ironically the battle began... in the desert. After leaving Las Vegas, I felt like we had acquired another passenger, a spiritual monkey on my back, telling me with unusual ferocity that I should live for my own desires. It told me that I deserve to have my needs and wants met and that if they went unmet, I had every right to carry resentment against God. It warned that God would not care for my heart and that I would end up disappointed and disillusioned if I didn't take matters into my own hands.

In San Fransisco a tremendous apathy took hold of me. For several days I stayed home and watched TV. I didn't go explore the city or the ocean. I didn't try to make appointments. People didn't seem that interested in our ministry and I felt too tired to try. In a sense, I was okay with taking a few days to rest. But in another sense, I rested poorly: not with intentionality but with impulsiveness. Underneath was a gnawing guilt: I was not productive. I had wasted my time. I imagined God getting impatient with me and passing His Spirit on to a more productive person.

Last night in Olympia I had a dream. In my dream, I lived in a great empty mansion. In the upstairs master suite, a sharp-looking old man sat in a chair, ruling over the house. He turned and looked at me critically and said things I knew to be untrue, unbiblical: "God won't care for you. You'll never raise your support. Who do you think you are going on this trip? What did you expect anyway?" I knew I had only to tell him to leave. It was my house after all. But instead, I kept silent out of fear and contemplated ways to outsmart and subvert him. Before long, he had invited all his friends to the house who crowded around me, telling me lies. If you've ever read, "Hinds Feet in High Places", there's a scene in that book that perfectly illustrates that scenario.

This morning, I closed my eyes and the scene came rushing back. This time I told the old man to get out of my house, to get out my mind. (Maybe that seems schizophrenic... I call it spiritual warfare.) This time, a blinding white light I knew to be Jesus consumed the house, the man, everything. He seemed to say to me in essence, "Your enemy is strong but I am so much stronger. You have only to call on me."

That was was it. There have been other encounters... low blows and cheater tactics... and every time, it has been important for me to consciously reject the messages being offered to me as well as to reject the one bringing the message. It has been helpful to reach out to a few close friends for prayer. Ultimately, I believe that through testing, those beliefs... that Jesus truly loves me and will care for me... will be much more firmly-rooted in deep in my worldview. But I don't believe the testing is over.  Not yet.