How to feed your faith (The gift that grows)
Put it down.
Huh? The impression was so strong it startled me. I was sitting poolside holding my kindle, squinting in the sun, following the gripping story, seeking to understand the author’s perspective. It’s true, I didn’t exactly agree with the line of logic presented, but I was almost finished and wanted to read every page so I could fully understand her perspective.
But then, though it sounds bizarre, I had to put it down. I prayed and waited. Again: Don’t read anymore.
It seemed strange. I mean, this was a Christian book! It wasn’t like I was reading trash! But as I sat there and prayed, the stronger the impression got–don’t read anymore.
And when I finally put it away, the moment of clarity came: It will erode your faith.
Now, I understand I’m walking a FINE line here. I am an advocate of reading widely, especially from those perspectives you might not readily agree with. We have to see other sides of the mountain! So much of my current journey is just an effort to see outside my own limited experience.
But then, we must be cautious. Why? Because our faith is precious.
This past year I’ve come to see faith as a gift that grows. It is a gift, yes, I didn’t earn it, but I can hold it and nurture it and cultivate it and GROW it, by God’s grace, by what I feed it and what I do with it and what I allow into the garden of my heart.
Our faith is our greatest treasure. Proverbs 4:23 says,
Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.
My experience has been that we quote this verse to our girlfriends when they begin dating a new guy. That’s fine, but the context is about heeding God’s commands, His truth, because His words are life and health to us. We are to be careful how we speak, how we live, what we do, because the inner person of the heart is so precious.
The heart is where faith is cultivated. Where it’s grown.
We must guard our hearts because if we allow garbage, sin, unbelief and cynicism, sarcasm and triviality, if we allow that in, our faith will be damaged. It will be stunted, shriveled.
It won’t grow.
We desperately need more faith. Without faith it is impossible to please God. Lack of faith was what prevented Jesus from doing mighty works. Faith is our greatest need, so the question, Does this build my faith? is a legitimate one to ask, when discerning whether something should be allowed into your heart and life.
I don’t mean only allowing happy things. There is profound brokenness in this world, and Jesus never shrunk back from facing it. But do we face it with faith, seeking ways to offer hope, or do we entertain perspectives that lure us away from loving Jesus? Do we allow voices into our heads and hearts that chip away at the strong faith Christ is working in us?
We must protect that precious faith God is working in our hearts. Feed it. How?
- Read, study, memorize, and meditate on Scripture.
- Sing songs that speak of His truth. Not only ones that pour out how we feel, but songs that proclaim and remind our hearts WHO HE IS.
- Read books that build your faith and that boldly proclaim His truth and remind you of His promises.
- Spend time with people who speak words of life and faith, who build you up and make you want to love and trust and serve and believe Jesus more.
- Ask God directly, in prayer, to increase your faith. Cry out daily, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”
Our faith, the gift that grows, is more precious than gold. May you guard it, feed it, and have the joy of seeing Jesus show Himself good and glorious again and again.
{Thanks for reading.}
The best finishing feeling
So this was the day math took three hours and twenty-three minutes. This was the day I thought to myself, “Today is NOT the day to write a homeschooling post.” This was the day I wondered, “Why exactly am I homeschooling? Why am I so enthusiastic about this education option?”
But then, turns out it was the day to write a post, and it reminded me all over again why we’re doing this thing called homeschooling and why, yes, I remain enthusiastic about this education option.
Because of that best finishing feeling.
I’ve shared a bit in the past about my challenges with my precious son, who’s 8. He’s special. *smile* He’s brilliant. And difficult. Some days we’re firing on all cylinders, and we breeze through the books. Then there are other days.
Oh, those other days.
This was one of those.
But here is why it was different: {Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool… Thanks!}
Another Part of the Mountain
This is the question that’s plagued me: How do we stay unified if we see things so differently?
I don’t mean clear scriptural things: Jesus is the Son of God, the Bible is the inspired Word of God, etc. And I don’t mean clearly non-scriptural things: Homeschool or public school. I mean any host of those in-between things. Let’s just say something like … divine healing. Let’s just pretend for a moment that I’m on a journey of learning what God’s Word says about divine healing. Then, let’s say you are on a journey about embracing suffering. God is convicting and challenging you and drawing your attention to all the places in scripture where believers are clearly called to suffer.
And then let’s say, we find ourselves at odds because your biblical spiritual journey looks so very different from my biblical spiritual journey.
Can we journey together at all?
Are we doomed to division?
This nagged me as I drove that windy bit of freeway along the Columbia River Gorge. It was gorgeous, bright blue sky and sun shining, the water like sparkling glass along the road. I was headed to speak at a lovely little church about my favorite topic–I should have been joyful. But I was anxious, about this.
Can we journey together at all?
Are we doomed to division? Not necessarily you and me, but all of us. How do we all travel together when our journeys look so very different?
And so I prayed, and poured this out to the Father. All along that freeway, more than an hour passing by, until I turned to cross the vast drawbridge headed north.
And that drawbridge took me all the way into Washington and plopped me right down into the answer to my question.
It almost took my breath away, looking back now over the wide Columbia river. I was now driving along the other side, where I had never driven before, from the north looking south.
And there is was: Mount Hood. So incredibly vast, as always but … Oh!
I had never seen it before.
I had never seen THIS Mount Hood before. I had never, truly never, seen Mount Hood from exactly this perspective before.
It was so different.
I have lived in Clackamas County almost my whole life. I have had several houses with a view of Mount Hood.
But it’s always basically the same view.
It’s a wide mountain, with gradual slope upward. I know Mount Hood. Or so I thought.
I knew my view of Mount Hood.
This view was a different mountain entirely. Sharp, pointy on the top, narrower.
But it was still Mount Hood.
And tears filled my eyes as the answer came so clearly.
Of course. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
Of course the mountain doesn’t change. Hasn’t. Won’t. What changes?
Our perspective. We travel to new places. We have to go a long way to see it from the other side, but it will take our breath away when we do.
My new view didn’t make my “old” view invalid. I am back home now and as I look toward my beloved mountain it is still wide with a gradual slope.
But now I know about the other side. I know God is the healer and we are called to suffer. I know there is a jagged pointy top to Mount Hood, if you go around toward the north and look from there. And chances are, if you in eastern Oregon, or somewhere farther south, that you know another view entirely:
One I’ve never seen.
And while we are not free to make up our own view, willy-nilly painting pictures of pretend mountains we made up in our mind, we ARE free to continue gazing up at the beauty of that majestic unchanging mountain as revealed in the Scriptures and keep getting new glimpses of its infinitely glorious facets.
We weren’t meant to dissect the mountain. We were meant to look up in awe and worship the Creator and be reminded of our smallness and His bigness. Your journey may be on an entirely different side of the mountain, but I’d love to hear about your journey. I’d love to learn about it. And, if you’d be so gracious, I’d love to share with you a bit about mine too.
Let’s never stop discovering new glorious facets of the infinite greatness of our God.
Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! (Rom. 11:33)
Amen! We can certainly agree on that.
{Grateful for you, and for all our various journeys up the Mountain of God. Thanks for reading.}
What to do when the novelty wears off…
It’s 82-degrees as I sit here on my front porch, slowly clicking out thoughts while the neighbor mows his lawn. Fat bumblebees, drunk on nectar, lazily move from flower to flower on the rhododendron to my right. I watch them for a moment then stretch my fingers out–my fingernails are still brown with dirt. We just planted the garden.
This year marks my most lackluster gardening effort. My ag-enthusiasm has waned significantly this year, and I probably would have skipped the whole thing, honestly, except our dear housemate bought seeds and brought them home all bright-eyed and eager. We saw the 80-degree forecast and planned a house-wide gardening day. I couldn’t skip it.
With the sprinkler on full-blast and shrieking kids splashing and dashing around the yard, we pulled weeds, poured topsoil, and pushed dozens of tiny promises into the ground. I’m always reminded that burying and planting are exactly the same in that moment.
Then we finished. We watered. Now … we wait.
And I sat down here, on my porch, to study Scripture, searching for a solution for my sluggishness. I had said to Jeff this morning,
“I feel sluggish. It’s hard to just keep doing the same thing, over and over and over. Especially when you don’t see a lot of change.”
He spoke life over me, as always, reminding me that new things, novelty, energizes us. So we seek after new things, after novelty.
But eventually the novelty wears off … and that’s where faithfulness begins.
[bctt tweet=”Faithfulness begins where novelty ends.”]
In all areas of my life, the novelty has worn off. I’ve been married for 12 years, parenting for 8 years, speaking for 7 years, working on my book for 4 years and church-planting for almost 3 years. Though I LOVE all those things, there are certainly days I feel the lack-of-novelty most keenly. The temptation is to try something new–not a new husband, of course–but maybe new clothes, or a new vacation, or a new … anything.
But the truth is, I don’t need something new. I need to be renewed. I need God to renew my heart and mind and spirit in His presence, by His Word and with His people, to keep me persevering in the faith. So I immerse myself back in His Word and see this:
“For God is not so unjust to overlook your work and the love that you showed for his sake in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.” Hebrews 6:10-12
When the planting was done and the waiting began, she pulled up. That same friend who woke me up that day, that same friend who models mundane faithfulness every day. That same friend married to a farmer with 5 kids aged 7 and under.
You think she knows about the novelty wearing off?
And she always carries life with her and hugs me, and she only has a moment to spare but she gives me that and it’s all I need.
And I’m reminded again it is His presence and His people who most powerfully renew my spirit when I am struggling with sluggishness again. It is not a new something that I need. It is the old–the old truths and the old friends who come along and point me to the promise and say:
“Remember? That’s where we’re going. Keep at it. We’ll reap a harvest if we don’t lose heart.”
And so I do. I become, once again, an imitator of those who continue in faith and patience.
I will plant. I will water. I will wait.
I will hope.
{Thanks for reading.}