Awestruck

I could not take my eyes off the lightening. It stretched and ripped across the night, making everything else fall back into the peripheral. I turned my head to blurt out to the guy sitting next to me, "Hey! Did you see that?" But his headphones were on and his eyes were closed and he wouldn't have seen it anyway - I had the window seat. I looked around to check if anyone else had their face glued to the 1x1 pane but no, people were nodding off, reading, staring at the tv, completely oblivious to what was happening outside, high up in the air with us.

I turned back to the window. I must have stared in silence for five minutes. The lightening didn't look any farther away; in fact, it looked closer. Like it was dancing towards us, a zigzag salsa, a rolling of the hips, a tease in its legs.

"I'm coming for you." Step forward. "Now I'm not." Step back. "I'm coming for you." Step forward. "Now, I'm not." Step back.

The black turned gray and pinkish against the clouds as the lightening sliced through the air again.
Almost at the same time, the plane rocked.

What?

I must be imagining things.

Again, the lightening flashed.
Again, the plane rocked.

My heart thumped. I closed my eyes.
I gripped my armrest.

There it was again!
And we rocked, again.

I am not a flyer. I mean, I will fly if needed and I don't have to be completely inebriated to do so, but I prefer to drive. Oh, I know the statistics, you're far more likely to get into a car crash than a plane crash and blah blah blah, but I can't help it. There is something especially terrifying about hanging in the air in a metal tube. I mean, if a bird the size of my foot can take it down if it gets caught in the fan blade ... how safe can it be? And I don't care how many times I see a flight attendant demonstrate how your seat becomes a raft if you hit the ocean; I for one, will pray for an immediate heart attack. I don't even think I would have to pray. It would just happen. My heart will thump so fast in terror it will literally thump itself out and I will squeeze my eyes and meet Jesus before anything crashes, explodes, or gets sucked into the ocean full of giant sharks to match their giant teeth.

I opened my eyes.

Yes. The lightening was definitely closer.
It shot across the sky, eerily defined, it seemed like I could make out each electrical pulse.
The plane rocked ...
and then dipped down.

People began shifting in their seats. I could hear them murmuring, "Whoa! Did you feel that?"
Yes, yes I did.

And then with each flash across the sky:

f e a r.

It's as if it had been waiting on the floor, hiding under the seats, staying out of sight until it was ready to make its move. And move it did.
I felt it start in my toes as they clenched and squished in my flip flops. I felt exposed, like I needed a blanket, or at least some socks. Up it crept, until my hands were clammy and my heart was racing and panic prayers erupted in my skull.
What's a panic prayer? This is a panic prayer.

"Oh my Jesus. Oh my Jesus. I don't want to die. helpme helpme helpme ..."

Perhaps you have said these before too.

I normally have them when I wake from a nightmare, get a call from the school principal, or when I ride in airplanes with lightening right outside my window.

I was starting to FREAK OUT.

I did the only thing I know how to do when things are bigger than me.
I began to pray.
Something slightly more literate than a panic prayer, but not much.

And then I was reminded of a boat that rocked and bounced in the storm while Jesus slept. I was reminded of how the disciples panicked as they saw the waves and the black sky. I was reminded of what they said to Jesus.

"Wake up! Save us! Oh Lord, don't you even care that we are going to die?!"

A panic prayer if I have ever heard one.

Oh sure, we can try and justify ourselves by saying, "Well, Jesus was right there. He was with them! Why would they panic?"

But isn't He right there with us too? Wasn't he with me?

“You of little faith, why are you so afraid?”

And then I wasn't.

Just like that.

Praise God.

I looked back out the window.
The lightening was still striking. (I know - biggest storm ever it seems like.)
The plane still rocked.

But now I could see how beautiful it was.. how magnificent. I noticed all the color in the clouds as the lightening went through them. It was so ... pretty. My fear had been replaced by awe. The awesomeness of God and the power of his majesty. My mouth hung open just a little.

I wonder.
How many times do we allow the Enemy (because that's where fear comes from) to keep us so focused on that one thing, and make us so afraid, that we fail to see the beauty of our situation? And there is beauty. In all things.

You may think there isn't, that there couldn't possibly be ... but that is the Enemy.

God says,
I will turn beauty from ashes.
My mercies are new every morning.
Great is My faithfulness.

And great it is my friends. Great it is.

XOXO

Just Not There

Here I am Lord, Send Me.

Isaiah 6:8. A scripture that has become a popular tattoo, Facebook cover photo, Pinterest pin, necklace print, and Christian motto that gets thrown into conversation with excitement and promise. We picture in our mind all the places the Lord is going to send us; exotic countries, new business ventures, church ministries, and yes, blogs, along with all the people that are going to be moved away from the rock inside their heart or set free from addiction and fear, and even saved, by what we are doing.

But what happens when we are sent somewhere we don't want to go? I can tell you what happened to me, what is happening....
I move throughout the day feeling a lot like Jonah.

For anyone who doesn't know who Jonah is, a quick recap. Jonah was a prophet in the Old Testament days.. a guy the Lord would speak to and off Jonah would go to wherever God told him, to deliver news of repentance, faith, and restoration. Jonah had a pretty good gig going on. I imagine his track record was excellent and numbers were up. I imagine he took some pride in where he went and what happened once he was there.

Until God said, "Go to Nineveh."

Say, what?
Nineveh?
Are you sure, God? Because those people are jacked up. (Not Old Testament terminology but you get the essence here, right?)

Jonah did not want to go. These people in Nineveh; they weren't his cup of tea. A reputation proceeded them and Jonah thought "hey - let them get what they deserve. Sure God ... you can send me .. just not there."

Eventually Jonah ended up going but not until he faced an angry ocean and a large fish. If you want to see a quick synopsis that gets right to the point - watch VeggieTales. It will catch you up real quick.

I always found it a little easy to judge Jonah. ( I know - gasp! - the "J" word) but let's be honest. No one wants to think they would be found in his company.

And when you do .. it's really uncomfortable.

You see, I think we all picture we will gladly say "Yes!" That we will pick up our cross (or our suitcase, our apron, our dollar bills) and set off towards whatever God-adventure lies ahead with gusto and a smile to match. But I also think we picture the God-adventure is something we will want to say Yes to. It will align with our own dreams, desires, wants. And yes, while God does place dreams in us and gives us the ability to make them a reality, there is something He cares about far more than that.

People.

God cares about people.

He cares about you, me, our family, our church family... but He also cares about the homeless guy that asks for money on the corner and he might not buy food with that money; it is quite possible he will buy beer. He cares about the woman who stands outside your grocery store with her small children and pretends to be homeless but drives off later in a BMW. He cares about the guy who works hard to provide for his family but when he comes home he's exhausted and irritable and can only knead his brow and drink his beer when the kids start screaming. He cares about the woman who has excelled and becomes so successful in her business yet goes to bed feeling empty and lost and wondering what her purpose is. He cares about the teenagers that are smoking pot around the corner, behind 7-11, who laugh too loud and curse too much. He cares about the ministry leader at your church that is burnt out and beat up but keeps smiling, keeps pushing, and keeps asking Jesus, "Is this enough? Is this? Am I making a difference for you, God?"

It's not about us. It's not about me.

That's kind of a tough truth to swallow, isn't it?

Sure, we say we know this, but when we are asked to make our words a verb, when we need to step waaaay out of our comfort zone and go somewhere that makes us cringe, we sure don't act like we believe it.

I know I don't.

It's been two weeks since I've started to look at Jonah with a little more compassion, a little more empathy; considering him as a human and not just some backwards hero in the bible. Isn't it funny how God does that? The way he flips a mirror of all the things we dislike about other people and reveals those same things stamped across our own face, written inside the secret places of our own heart?

It's called pruning. The bible talks a lot about that too. Getting rid of the branches that don't produce any fruit to make way for ones that do.

Pruning hurts. I mean, have you ever pruned a rosebush or cut the branches on your trees? The shears are sharp, sure, and final. They don't leave room for halfway or uncertainty. No one can slice off an eight of a branch - it's all or nothing.

That's how God wants us when we say, "Here I am Lord, send me!" He wants it all.

I was recently promoted at work .. but for the promotion I have to leave a store that I know, people that I love, and go to one that has a not-so-good reputation, with a boss of not-so-good character. They are not all of ill regard. Not all, mind you. But enough. Enough to make my stomach twist and my feet drag and my mouth grimace and my palms sweat.

Just. Not. There.

I knew as soon as I was offered the position that I would accept it. I knew because I was laughing inside at how God is ... He isn't going to put me where I want, He's going to move me where I'm needed.

I keep trying to be grateful for it.

I am not always up to the task.

I recently started reading Jesus > Religion by Jefferson Bethke. He makes a statement on Page 10 that I wish I could have highlighted to infinity. He writes, "In the scriptures, Jesus isn't safe."

Let that sink in for a minute.

"In the Scriptures,
Jesus
isn't
safe."

It's beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Isn't it?

So many of us are in awe of Paul, Peter, John, Mary, David, Moses, Noah, Jesus .... and the list goes on and on. We are struck by their courage, their steadfastness, the persistence and dynamic faith they all demonstrate. Not one of them did anything safe.

Can you imagine being in any of their prayer circles? Can you picture praying for Moses before he parted the Red Sea or Noah before he built the Ark in preparedness for rain no one had ever seen before, and pray for safety? The immediate act of what they were doing already nixed safety. In the middle of miracles, there's not a sliver of room for safety. I would bet, you would probably get laughed at, for even suggesting such a thing.

Why do I expect any different?

No. I'm not parting a sea, or leading an army, or speaking in front of kings. But I am moving forward, one foot in front of the other, towards people that are lost, hardened, cynical ... people that need to know they are loved just as they are, right where they are. And if you have ever felt unloved or unacceptable, you know how hard it is to be convinced that you are.

So I am praying. I am praying my heart is right before God. I am praying for God to help me do this work.

I am praying that I am worthy of the task before me. And because I know I am not ... I am praying that God's grace and love and light will be more and more evident for all to see.