I mostly want this year to be about finding joy in simplicity.

A couple of days ago, I had this really great moment. I was sitting on the cement of my open garage with a chilled Diet Pepsi in my hand, the breeze blowing and the sun warming my face. A chubby, naked Teadora was sitting a couple of feet away from me in her colorful blow up pool, chattering nonsense to nobody. Brandon was somewhere inside, cleaning up the Christmas clutter because he knew it would make me happy.

I remember clearly thinking, “Wow, this is such a nice moment.”

Because it was simple. None of the regular stresses. My family was together, the holidays had come and gone easily enough, and we were all rested, happy, and healthy. I really enjoyed it, and I think it’s because I wasn’t thinking about what we needed to get done or where we’re headed next. I was just letting the moment happen. Stifling the voices that tell me to worry or plan or overload.

It was peaceful.

God has whispered a lot of promises to me over the last month. Things that make me excited for what He’s going to do with our family this year. Life changing things. Adventuring things. Encouraging things. But what He continues to tell me most clearly is to keep things simple. Don’t over-complicate. Don’t try to work everything out ahead of time. Trust. Trust Him to do what He promises.

And I think that’s where the joy of this year will come. Trusting God to follow through on the things He’s promised me already. It’s not going to always be practical or easy or clean, but He is good. All the time. He has never failed me, and there is no reason to worry that He will now.

“Not a single one of all the good promises the Lord had given to the family of Israel was left unfulfilled; everything he had spoken came true.” (Joshua 21:45)

Trust. That’s a good enough resolution for me.

For instance: the world doesn’t revolve around me.

And I’m not talking about sacrifices and selflessness and those other obvious things that come after having another human completely dependent on you. I already know I’m selfish. I like my sleep. I like my free time. I’d rather buy new shoes than more diapers. Selfishness is obvious. But this is different.

Things happen in my life that aren’t about me.

I had big plans to breastfeed when Teadora was first born. I read all the books. Talked to a bunch of people. Spoke with consultants. I had a plan. “Breast is best,” people kept saying—and I was completely on board. But it just wasn’t the plan for me.

I did all the right things. I had all the right gear. But the milk just never came. I did all the things they tell you to do to increase your supply. I stressed. I cried. I struggled. But nothing helped. I just couldn’t give her the nutrition a growing girl needs. Within 6 weeks, Tea was exclusively a bottle-fed baby—and I felt like a failure.

But my mother said to me, “You never know what God is doing in Teadora’s life. Something as seemingly unrelated as bottle-feeding may be instrumental in working out some part of her character or personality. We just don’t know the purposes He has for her.”

Because isn’t it all connected? Isn’t everything purposeful? Maybe God is trying to teach my daughter independence. Or self-sufficiency. Or maybe she’s getting something from formula to boost her development that I lack. Or maybe He wants her to bond closer to her father. Who knows?

I kept grieving over it, feeling sorry for myself and for my baby. Feeling like a bad mother. Feeling like I couldn’t sustain my own child. What’s wrong with my body? Isn’t this what mother’s are built to do? But no, Teadora would survive—and thrive—on formula alone (just look at those chunky thighs). It’s not about what my body can or can’t do. It’s not about my plans or ideals. I am certain that I had to switch to formula because that was the plan and purpose God had for Teadora’s life—even if I don’t know why.

Can’t this idea apply to everything? What if you’re only working where you work or living where you live or doing what you do because God is using you for somebody else’s growth? What if major changes in your life is not about you, but about the character of the people closest to you? What if your troubles are actually meant to strengthen another person? What if the things in your life are not about you?

“Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails” (Proverbs 19:21).

He will work to glorify himself in all things—even the seemingly unrelated.

I don’t even really know why I’ve been so dry.

My routine hasn’t changed. Church. Worship music. Early morning quiet times. Prayer. Fellowship. You know, the “things” of the Christian faith. The “things” that are known to increase your intimacy with God. The “things” that keep you going strong. But really, I’m just reading just to be reading—nothing really pops out at me off the page. I’ll pray, but it’s a checklist of things. Please give baby health. Please give Brandon strength and encouragement. Please don’t let me throw up anymore. I’ll sing the right words in church, but it’s just my mouth moving. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but that’s all. It’s been a long and tedious road.

And the truth? I’ve been working really hard at the motions of faith without any true investment in what I’m doing. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. I’m doing what I know is right, but my head isn’t in the game. I’m tired. I’m busy. I’ve got too many things to do. And it takes a lot of energy to focus, especially when it comes to our spiritual lives for some reason.

So where does it leave me? Dry. And stale.

Which is why the story of Mephibosheth stuck out to me last week (Samuel 2, chapter 9). Several years ago, he was whisked away by his nanny when King Saul (his grandpa) and Jonathan (his father) died in battle and it looked liked David would be next in line. Mephibosheth’s life would have been in danger as one of the successors to the throne because under normal circumstances, a new king outside the family would kill any potential threats. So Mephibosheth went into hiding, year after year, afraid for his life in a place called Lo-debar. This is significant, because Lo-debar means “pasture less place.” It was all sand. And rocks. And desolate. And dry.

But then there’s David—king over Israel now for about 15 years when he remembers a promise to look after Jonathan’s family. He discovers Mephibosheth is alive, and immediately calls for his presence in the palace. The poor man, living until now in hardship and exile, is brought in front of David, probably expecting to be killed or enslaved after all this time.

But David is different. His first words are “don’t be afraid” before he proceeds to bless Mephibosheth in two amazing ways. First, he gives Mephibosheth full possession of King Saul’s land. I love this because it had to be the best land in Israel. He’d no longer have to work in the dry and desolate place to make his way. The land was likely already cultivated for him. He went from nothing to the best of something with a single gesture from David.

Secondly, David invites Mephibosheth to eat at the King’s table. Not just for a day, but for the rest of his life. Do you realize what this means? He would have the friendship and communion with the king from now on. He could feast on the things he’d been missing for so many years. And he’d be truly full—completely without want.

I love the symbolism behind this story. Mephibosheth was expecting the worst after spending so long in the dry, desolate place, but he was blessed beyond what he could have ever guessed. This is what stands out to me:

1. Mephibosheth was called out by David.
2. He was taken from dryness and given fruit.
3. And he was restored in relationship to the king.

Just like Mephibosheth, I’ve been in a dry, desolate place. But God has been calling for me—pricking at my heart—to quit hiding and step forward with my faith. He wants me to get real with the “things” I’ve been doing and realize just “doing” won’t get me anywhere. No matter how hard I work in the dry, desolate place, I will never be fruitful while running away from communication with the King. And just as soon as I decided to really show up—as soon as I made a real commitment to invest in my faith—He was there, ready to pick up where we left off. Ready to figuratively feast with me—to completely fill up my spiritual stomach.

And of course things aren’t perfect, but they’re getting better. I’m remembering what it’s like to get something out of my Bible study. I’m seeing the benefit of true prayer time. Every day for the past two weeks, I’ve felt encouraged, strengthened by spending real time with God. All I needed to do was acknowledge where I’ve been and respond to the call.

Are you in Lo-Debar? What will it take to call you back?

Come with me.

The problem is that I now have little expression of my faith. I wake up on Sundays, go to church, talk to people, then go home. I’m not participating in any other way besides just being there. Of course, it’s been nice to focus on resting and relationships while pregnancy takes over my life, but I feel like something is missing. My heart has changed. I feel static. Unmoved. I guess it’s the idea that if I do not create, I’ll lose my creativity. If there is no practice, there is no skill. And in this case, I’ll lose my passion if I don’t invest in my faith.

I want to find another outlet. Something I can do here and now. Something wonderful for God. I want a real ministry.

I read a bit this morning in Samuel 2:7. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the passage, it tells the story of how David became king. In this particular chapter, David already secured his throne over Israel and he is now entering a time of peace and security. He is finally settled in his palace and decides he wants to bless the Lord by building a temple to house the Ark of the Covenant (which is currently sheltered in a tent).

Isn’t that neat? The very first thing he thought to do was find a huge project to bless the Lord. He wasn’t thinking about how great things were going or how awesome it was to finally be king. He wanted to do something great for the Lord. To be pleasing to God. To invest in the future of his faith. Can you imagine? He decides he wants to take on a project that will define the worship and essentially the spiritual foundation for all the souls in Israel. This temple will inhabit the Spirit of the Lord. Seems lofty, doesn’t it? It’s quite a ministry—something really wonderful.

But guess what? God says no.

And as I considered why, I kept coming back to one thing. David was a shepherd before he was king—even before he was the leader of a band of outlaws. He knew how to gather a flock. To feed them. To protect them.  God likely designed David to be king because of his history. The king of Israel needed to be able to unify a nation that had split, to call them back to worship the one true God, to protect them from oppression from the neighboring Philistines. And what I like about this passage is that God gave David a task that suited his character and strengths. David’s calling at that point was shepherding—not building. No matter how wonderful that project could be, it was not the ministry God arranged specifically for him.

In my search for a ministry, I’ve been looking at all the big options. Host a new bible study at my house. Teach the children’s ministry at church. I’ve even though about putting together a weekend women’s retreat. All are wonderful projects that could be honoring to God, but I can’t fully commit to any of them at this stage in life. I could probably do them—and maybe even do them well—but the issue lies in the idea that none of them play into the strengths or design God has so far developed in me.  I’ve prayed over and over about these exact ministries and I just get the same answer every time—no, I have something else for you.

So what is it?

What can I do to share my faith?

God managed to open my eyes yesterday to the option of writing as a ministry.  He designed me with a love for language and a mind to write. Why not serve him completely through it? Why not make it a ministry? I’ve been published before in a devotional series, but I haven’t given much thought about continuing my writing with the purpose of sharing faith. What kills me is that I’ve had this blog for almost a year now, and I’ve hardly focused any attention on how God is speaking to me and what He’s doing in my life. I mostly jabber on with little stories and big events, which are fun to write and to share. But that doesn’t show how passionate I am about my faith. How deeply I want to share His love. How full a life can be with Him.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll be sharing more of my devotional times with you in the coming months. I want to use this as a means for expressing faith, but also as a starting point for some loftier writing goals—maybe even a book or two? We’ll see what God wants to do with me.

In the meantime, I encourage you to find a way to invest in your own faith. David wanted to do something grand and wonderful, but I’m not sure he realized that God was already doing something grand and wonderful with him.  It makes me think that most of us would be way more effective if we just realized we could be ministering through the projects waiting right there in front of us. Grasp it! It’s time we take ownership in our unique abilities and the many shapes and forms of ministry that can come from them. Find your niche. God (and likely your church) will be blessed.

Except for one part. The break down. Not good.

It requires tugging and pulling and pushing buttons and folding back and bending forward and wrestling it to the ground and strattling it with both legs to snap on the clasps to lock it down. By the third time I tried to collapse the dumb stroller, I looked at Brandon with hair in my face and sweat on my brow and said, “this isn’t happening.” Because there’s no way I can do that with a screaming baby in my arms while on the phone and rushing to get in the car for a last minute grocery run. Isn’t it supposed to be convenient? Easy? Efficient? I hated it already. And I didn’t even own it yet.

That’s the best $400 I never spent.

But that isn’t the point of this post. The point is what happened before trying out the stroller. Before we even walked in the store. Keep in mind that this little baby boutique is deep downtown, almost in an industrial area. There’s people everywhere. Buildings. Dirt. Cars. Grime. Traffic. But when we got out of the car, we were surprised to be approached by a man in his late 30′s asking for a gas can. He looked like a regular guy that was just a little rough around the edges. Polo shirt. Shorts. Unshaven. Buzzed head. Cigar smell.

Of course we didn’t have the can (who does?), which sent this man into the schpeal of his life story. In 45 seconds.

We quickly found out that his friend was stranded at work and needed gas in the car and he worked in the building right across the street and nobody shares the aloha anymore and is Brandon a local boy? and we should be able to trust him because he’s married to so and so and has two kids named Kalani and Kainoa and we can see he’s a regular guy because look at how nice his teeth are and can he please have $20 so he can get gas up the road and he’ll pay back double interest if we just come to his work tomorrow.

It happened so fast we hardly had a chance to process. But Brandon was listening. Carefully.

“I don’t have $20, man.”

“I’ll take whatever you got.”

Which is when Brandon looked at me to see how I felt about the whole thing, but I was still confused. I was thinking about his teeth and what that could possibly do with gas. So I said I didn’t care what he does as long as we can go look at our stroller. So Brandon gave him all the cash in his pocket, which ended up being $9. And we went inside feeling assaulted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The whole event happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to process in the moment. To think things through. To understand the situation. I mean, was he trustworthy? Why would he tell us his whole life story just to get a couple of bucks? How did that happen so fast? Did we make the right decision? Should we have taken him to the gas station instead? Should we have just said no? For all we knew, he could be the typical homeless stereotype out on the street just looking for beer money. But that’s just a stereotype, right?

And then I was mad at myself for not being more observant. For not taking the time to actually listen. To feel empathy. To make it a conversation instead of an exchange. Why wasn’t I thinking straight? What a missed opportunity! I could have told him about Jesus. I could have prayed with him. I could have…I would have…I should have. Where was my courage? Where was my head? Why did I fail?

I was thinking about my stroller. That’s why.

What would you have done in the situation? Does it catch you off guard when random people ask you for money? Do you get flustered?

My typical response is to give the money. I mean, do I really need $9? No. I was getting ready to spend $400. But I can tell you, I couldn’t stop thinking about him the rest of the night and even now. Maybe he’s struggling. Maybe he’s depressed. Maybe he’s in a bind. And maybe God just wanted me to get flustered and committed enough to pray for him. Could that be all this was? He needed prayer? I can do that.

What are your thoughts?

We decided to first take them out to the pool. We barbecued. We played volleyball. And then I had an idea. Why not play an old Hume Lake camp game? In our high school years, my sister and I were awesome at this one game called Kajabe Can Can.  It is a test of strength. Endurance. Balance. Which makes it super competitive.

The rules are simple:

1. Stand in a circle and hold hands (or short ropes if you’ve got ‘em)
2. Try to pull or push everyone else into the center object (like a chair or a trash can) without touching it yourself or letting go of the person next to you.
3. If you touch it, you’re out.

It looks something like this:

See Brandon pulling that poor kid into the chair? See how his arm is bending? Limbs become like rubber in this game. Indian burns. Bruises. Head bashes. Sweat. Blood.

It was great fun.

It is also supposed to be great at tiring energetic teens out. Supposed to be. At least that’s the theory. But really? It took about 5 minutes and the kids were back on their feet playing volleyball.

Me? And Brandon?

Cooked. Done. Finished. Whipped. Pooped. Expired. How else can I say it? We just aren’t what we once were 10 years ago. We aren’t as flexible. We aren’t as energetic. We’re just past that stage in life that can get slammed into a chair and even consider getting back up to  play again.

Why does twenty-six suddenly feel old? I hear it only gets worse.

The rest of the night was spent trying to keep the youth busy, happy, and entertained despite succeeding to tire only ourselves out. We watched a movie. We played a lively game of CatchPhrase. We took them outside to do some worship on the grass under the stars. We brought them back to worship in the house because it was cold and rainy. We talked. We hung out. And at 2 o’clock, we instated a lights out policy in 10 minutes. Not because we had planned it, but because Brandon and I were no longer in a position to remain upright—although the youth seemed unaffected by the candy and the games and the late hour. Absolutely unphased.

They left early Saturday morning after a hearty breakfast prepared by Brandon and me. At 7:00 in the morning. After going to sleep no earlier than 3:30 a.m. And you know why they had to leave so early? A car wash. They were doing a fundraiser. All day. Washing cars. One less than 4 hours of sleep.

How do they do that?

And through it all, I fostered a new respect for the teen years. They are so full of life. Of promise. Of pure obstinate blood coursing through their veins. They own the world. They know the most. They have confidence and passion and curiosity. They aren’t afraid to try things. To explore their personalities. To stand out. And they’re are perfectly transparent in all of it. There is something to be said about the troublesome teen years. What a influential time in a person’s life! I suddenly appreciate the complexity of youth.

I also appreciate their flexibility. Because every muscle in my body is sore. Including some hidden ones I haven’t used since summer camp in 1999.

“Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to get together and worship. I pray for those with eyes still open, that they would accept you into their hearts and realize your grace and mercy…”

Excuse me, what?

Those with their eyes still open? Who? Me? Because my eyes were open. Wide open. As they usually are when I pray. It helps me to focus on what’s being said. Once I close my eyes, a flurry of thoughts and worries and considerations start billowing through my mind. Closing my eyes makes me forget where I am.

No, I need to keep them open. It keeps me in the moment.

But did he mean to tell me that I had lost my salvation by simply refusing to keep my peepers shut? It’s not possible. Is there something wrong with my heart? It couldn’t be. I was aware of this grace. This mercy. And isn’t it grace and mercy that allows us to go boldly before the throne anyway?

Along the way I learned a lot of other things I should and should not do. I should raise my hands and cry during worship. I shouldn’t slouch during the sermon. I should clap at the appropriate times. I should stand for hymns and sit for contemporary music. I should use words like “fellowship” and “born again.”

And I know why we do it. Respect. We’re showing respect for the God that gave us life despite ourselves. We try to minimize distraction and maximize the opportunity for praise. We follow traditions and speak a certain way and do church in hopes that we’ll get a little closer to Him.

But last Sunday, I still had my eyes open—twelve years later.

Because I just can’t figure out how it really matters. The purpose, the point, the end-all is the condition of our hearts. If our hearts are not right, then no amount of standing or clapping or crying will do any good. I have to think, will God still hear my praises if I hum instead of sing? Will he still know I’m listening if I lean back in my chair? Will he still hear my prayer if I refuse to close my eyes?

Yes.

Because He’s God. He looks at my insides, not my outsides.

Yesterday I posted some excerpts from my journals about wanting purpose in my life. About finding a career. And you know what? Those prayers were answered. Honest. Just take a look at the next few months of prayers. You’ll see.

“The library for the church started today. We put all the books out on a table, and we already filled the entire table on the first day. I’m excited. I am now a church librarian. Hmm. Where will this lead?” -03/26/06

“‘The Lord directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?’ (Psalm 20:24). This verse explains my current situation. I don’t understand why God has given me this job, why I am in Hawaii, what my ministry is, or where I am going. I keep praying for clarity, but this verse seems to say, ‘It will come with time. Enjoy the experience.’ A difficult concept. ‘Make your way plain for me to follow’ (Psalm 5:8). I have been praying this verse for the next step—and the next ministry—in my life. I have been toying with the idea of entering a masters program studying Library and Information Sciences. It seems that God has been confirming this through close friends and encouragement from my family. It seems fitting, but I don’t want to chase down another rabbit’s trail. I am waiting to see what God wants me to do. I don’t want to rush into it.” -01/31/07

“I’m worried when I finish with school, I won’t be content. What if I graduate and decide I don’t want to be a librarian? You know how nervous I get with new jobs and transitions and change. I need you to take me through this in small steps. Don’t allow me to back down if this is right. Give me an excitement and a passion to do this if it is your will for me.” -02/07/07

“Brandon is worried about paying for school if I go back. How do I respond to that? What do I do? If you are directing me to library studies, then I need you to show me.” – 06/24/07

“Lord, I am so blessed. You have truly shown your abundant love and grace to me these past two months. You have answered my prayers so completely. Thank you for this new job at the University. Not only does it provide a $10,000 a year raise, but I am no longer exhausted when I come home. It’s flexible enough to allow me to go back to school and provides a tuition waiver! You have made it clear you want me to pursue library sciences. Within two weeks of finding out about this job, you’ve shown me a clear purpose. Thank you for your faithfulness.” -07/15/07

And there you have it. A quick little glimpse into the journey leading up to my new purpose in life. I like the reminder. It gives me something to cling to when I feel like I have no life and all I do is study and I’m pulling my hair out in irritation.

Two days.

But you’ll have to forgive me. I need to take time out to focus on last minute preparations. I’ve got to practice, practice, practice while I still can. Do you know what that means, readers? I have to shut down. Ignore creativity for just a few days. Block out anything but libraries and information and databases and cataloging. And yes, that means this here blog.

But I put a little something together for you over the weekend that you may like to see. The following are excerpts from my journal over the last few years. It’s the story of my prayers leading up to this moment. This is the whole reason I journal—to look back and see how perfectly things line up, how they connect, how they show God’s hand in my life.

This is Part I: Lost in Ambition:

“What do I want to do with my life? I’m not sure. I don’t think I want to be a journalist anymore. It doesn’t seem inviting to me. What kind of work would make me happy?” – 01/31/06

“Brandon knew something was wrong. I started to cry and told him I had been struggling again with the whole ambition/purpose thing. He hold me and prayed for me while I wept. It revitalized me. I had been having a pervading sense of dread about starting another week. After he held me and walked me through it, I felt renewed. My desire to have a purpose—to have something to work for has not faded. I still crave. Yearn. But yesterday I felt like God was telling me to hold on—that he was working on Brandon, building him up, but that I’d have my turn later. Basically it sounded like God was saying, ‘Just wait a while and then I’ll show you. Be patient.’ So I will try to wait.” – 02/06/06

“Work with me Lord and develop me into who you want me to be. Is working for a newspaper what you want for me? Associated Press? Honolulu Magazine? You know what my heart desires. Where I want to be. But I can’t do it without you. I pray that you lay the job in my lap. That you would show me exactly where you want me, even if it is not in the same field. Help me to be open and willing to do your work no matter what the job. Please put a desire in my heart that leads me to the next state, career, passion in life.” -03/19/06

“God, thank you for giving me such an obvious message. I know that you will do some great work in Brandon and me. You understand my impatience, my desire to plan, my ambitions for a career, a life, my tendency towards stress. What are you telling me Lord? What do you want me to do? I understand. You want me to trust you. You want me to trust in the promises you have for us. It’s not of my own planning. ‘If the Lord wants us to, we will do this or that. (James 4:15)’” -03/28/06

“I have hope for what will come. There are things I’d like to do. But I realize I need to be happy where I am right now, but I need your help. I need you to make things clear and purposeful for me. Show me how to fit in here. Show me how to make a mark. Show me how I can be used. Help me to be joyful, cheerful where you have me.” -08/06/06

Tune in tomorrow for Part II: Realizing the Purpose.

I wanted Brandon to take me to the movies—you know, something that didn’t require a lot of energy but would get me out of the house. He agreed. Because let’s face it, a restless wife is a difficult wife. Or is that just me?

But as we ate dinner and caught up on television, the movie time snuck right by us. I wallowed in self pity when I realized I was going to be home the entire evening. Again. But Brandon and I started to get creative. No movie? Fine. Let’s make our own movie.

It’s true. We did it.

I thought it would be fun to record the first worship song we ever played together for the church: All Who Are Thirsty. I mentioned it a few days ago, so I wondered if maybe you’d like to see us in action. Some disclaimers in case you cringe when you hear it: I just got my voice back so I’m a little pitchy. It was 10 o’clock at night. The sound isn’t a great quality. We didn’t edit. This was our first take. We haven’t practiced the song for a long time. I was sitting down. I was tired. I didn’t have the music in front of me. I have a voice like a mouse. Does that cover it?

Ok. Here it is. B&C Media, LLC in full effect.

I think we may do this again. What songs should we sing?