When the world pours asphalt on your head…
My running route last Friday was a fabulous out-and-back on the rolling hills of Rosemont Road. It’s the closest thing to flat that we have around here. Along the flats and downhills my eyes are up–the sky was glorious blue and the sun was warm on my face even though the temperature never tipped past forty. I love the time to look around and take in the beautiful land where we live.
But on the hills my eyes are down, focused on every step, telling myself to just keep running all the way to the top.
And almost at the top of one particular hill, where my eyes are always down, focused, there is a stretch of asphalt with lumps and bumps and crests like ocean waves because of some mammoth tree roots underneath. I have to remind myself to pick up my feet or these big blacktop speedbumps would do me in.
And I’m always amazed that apparently this asphalt, poured down boiling hot and hardened like concrete, is no match for the might of a tree root. Slow and steady this tree has remained, broken through the asphalt to grow, providing oxygen, life, beauty, through the years.
That’s exactly how our lives can be.
Man’s best effort at a lasting substance is asphalt. Pour it out, let it harden, it’ll stand the test of time. But the tree remains longer, breaks through it. The tree–because of its roots–can break through whatever weighs it down.
Do you feel like perhaps the world has poured asphalt on your head? Sometimes it can feel like everything in the world is opposing your growth. Opposing your desire to live for God. Opposing your desire to live in peace, joy, faith, harmony, grace. Sometimes just when you’re most excited about the things of God the enemy backs up a dump-truck load of asphalt and pours it right out on your head. The result is that your stuck, weighed down, consumed. Perhaps, even, feeling crushed.
But the asphalt is no match for the tree.
The tree continues to grow because the roots are connected to the true source of life. If, when, we abide in Christ, the promise is that we will bear much fruit. No matter what is dumped on top of us, nothing can uproot us.
And all that really matters are our roots.
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is in the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” Jer. 17:7-8
When our roots remain near the stream of living water we can, like the Count of Monte Cristo, look the world’s asphalt in the eye and say, “Do your worst.” The tree does not fear.
What has the world tried to dump on your head? What threatens to crush your spirit today? Remain near the stream of Christ’s living water, sending your roots down deep into His love and truth. In time, slow and steady, you will grow, amen?
By the grace of God: The asphalt is no match for the tree.
{Praying for you today … mind those roots. Thanks for reading.}
Where to go with your gripe …
I closed Dutch’s door and marched to the living room. I was breathing hard, frustrated and at a loss as to what to do. Looking back, I was doing what to do, giving him time in his room to get a happy heart and change his complaining attitude before resuming his chores. But in the midst of it, tired and battling a head-cold, I just felt overwhelmed and exhausted.
So I picked up the phone.
It was a weak moment and I knew it. I’m phone-phobic so usually I don’t call anyone, ever, even when I should, but this was different and all I wanted to do was lay my gripe square in someone’s lap.
So I dialed my parents.
Of course, God loves me too much to let me do something stupid. So my parents didn’t answer. Why I have no idea other than His sovereignty. But as I hung up the phone the gripe welled up within me and by His grace He showed me in whose lap it truly belonged.
Only God’s.
I’m trained to be thankful. My habit is to turn a circumstance around and around in my hand until I can see some aspect of it for which to be glad. This is a good thing. But what about when I’m holding that circumstance in my hand and no matter how many times i turn it around and look at it all I want to do is throw it through the window, shattering glass in a thousand pieces?
Because those times do happen, amen?
Thankfully, God has given us a divinely-prescribed space for complaint. (And for that we can be thankful.) Throughout Scripture we see men and women of God honestly bringing their complaints to God and pouring out their hearts to Him. David, the man with a heart like God’s, expresses this in Psalm 142:
I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble.
He’s writing this from a cave. He’s probably starving. He’s fleeing from mad-man Saul who seeks his life. He’s been forsaken, alone, deserted. And the first thing he does is not make a list of things he’s grateful for …
He gripes to God first.
First he pours out His honest heart to God. Unless the filth is cleaned out first the gratitude won’t be real, it’ll be forced, contrived, in-genuine. Yes, we are to thank God by faith, but perhaps I, we, sometimes forget this first important step: To first give God my gripe.
David continues his complaint…
When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who know my way. In the path where I walk men have hidden a snare for me. Look to my right and see no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.
I cry to you, O Lord; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.” Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need; rescue me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me.
Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me.
Perhaps a modern-day version might go something like this:
I’m frustrated and am on the verge of barking at my kids or punching out a sharp text to my husband or writing a FB status that I know I will regret. Instead I will run to my room for two minutes and pour out my heart to God …
God, you see this house, that it’s a mess. You know I’m the only one who cleans up(!). You know I’m trying to seek You, God and these kids lean hard into me all day and they never stop talking and somehow dinner still needs to appear and the bathroom clean before small group tonight. You know my anxieties, about how to school my children, and why my friend is acting strange toward me. And what did I do wrong? You know my insecurities, why I’m so afraid of losing what I have, why sometimes I just want to hide and never blog and let the world see into this beautiful mess you’ve called my life. See everything, God, and deliver me. Give me peace and show me how to be grateful. I trust you. I trust You. Amen.
Maybe a prayer like that is somewhere in your heart today? Maybe today, before you write your list of thanks (and I do hope you write a list of thanks!), you might just need to pour out a complaint to God and let Him clean you up on the inside? This lesson is for me, hope it can encourage you too. {Thanks for reading…}
Week's end with thanks
- Adam’s on sale.
- 221 women wanting to hear God’s Word!
- Peach cobbler.
- Generous Furmans.
- Discerning the Voice of God.
- Classical Conversations.
- Community Group taco night!
- Another baby on the way! (Not me!)
- Gift of forty-pounds of local boneless, skinless chicken breasts! Only God could know what a blessing this was to me!
- Sunny day for errands.
- Coming down with a cold … a good opportunity for rest.
- Sleep, sleep, and more sleep.
- Nyquil.
- Sleepytime tea.
- Oregano oil.
- Kids devouring chicken.
- Four-mile run outside on a beautiful sunny afternoon!
- Reading Matthew’s account of Jesus on the cross. Reading slow, so good to revisit again and again.
- Slowing to hear.
- Choosing to obey.
- Wanting to grow.
- Voices that lift.
- People who listen.
- Praying together.
- Laughter.
- Days bathed in grace.
- Working together.
- Teams.
- People who are really good at what they do!
- Refunds.
- Raw honey.
- Fridge full of fresh organic Fujis!
- White apple flesh, crisp, sweet, juicy.
- No plans for a Saturday.
- Time to write.
- Their silly laughter floating through the house.
- Heidi running silly, “Pixie dust is making me fly!”
- Frost like a dusting of powdered sugar.
- Tasty hunk of cornbread sent from Nan.
- Looking forward to RDG Sunriver weekend!
- Coffee hot.
- Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand.
- Broken, but in the Master’s Shop by Debra Kent.
- That brokenness is the first step to wholeness.
- Our great and gentle God.
- His voice that is tender, loving, kind.
- Planning to hear, obey, act.
- Smiling at the day.
- Knowing there will be more grace whenever we’re in need.
#1 Eat Your Frog {52 Bites}
We’ve talked about eating frogs before …
You know, your frog. That same one thing, one job that you avoid doing. Loathe doing. Grumble about doing.
Do you remember what we are to do with it?
Do it first.
Very first thing, after your fill-your-cup morning routine: Eat that frog and be done with it. You’ll have so much more energy having conquered the worst part of your day, and everything else will feel like dessert to-dos after already swallowing the frog-part. Tsh Oxenreider lists this as the first step to simplifying life, quoting Mark Twain:
“Eat a live frog every morning, and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day."
Such a simple habit that reaps beautiful rewards. Every morning, thank God for work.Thank Him, by faith, for the “worst” work you have ahead. Then get that worst part over with. Whether it’s exercising or scrubbing toilets or doing the laundry, git ‘er done and enjoy the rest of your day.
Who knows, between the gratitude and go-after-it attitude you might even find yourself enjoying that frog.
This time around my frog has been exercise. Not that I loathe it, I actually like exercise, but when the whirlwind of September hit I let it go by the wayside and it never returned.
Until now. I’m devouring that little sucker.
I admit, I actually had no aspirations of eating this frog. But then a friend roped me into running Hood to Coast this summer (thankful for you, Dani!) and then a friend asked if I’d run a half-marathon in April. I decided not to then found that that same half-marathon was going to be a support-run for my friend Shawna who is battling Stage 4 cancer.
I couldn’t say no to that.
Although I tried to. With dark, stormy weather and two kids there was no way I’d have time to train.
Then someone gave us a treadmill.
Ok, I get it!
So, I downloaded the training plan and I’m three weeks in.
Frog eating isn’t so bad.
What’s your frog? If it happens to be exercise, join the club. You can do the same 12-week training if you like and we’ll hold each other accountable … I’ll annoy you by emailing you each week to see how you’re doing.
Do you know what your frog is? Sit down, look it in the eyes …
and eat it!
{Happy frog-eating Fridays! I’m off to run. Thanks for reading …}