Winter is Ending

Chicago reminds me a bit of Narnia these days.

Did you ever read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when you were a child? If not, read it as an adult! C. S. Lewis, the author of the Narnia stories, rejected the misconception that fairy tales are only for kids. Sometimes, it takes a good story to open our eyes afresh to truth, you know?

Anyway, Chicago. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, four children -- siblings Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy -- stumble upon the gateway to Narnia, a world that parallels our own in many ways, but in which magic is not dead, animals talk, and winter never ends.

Similarly, here in Chicago, we've had snow since Halloween, and it's only been in the last few weeks that it's finally melted. On the plus side, I'm getting really good at layering, and I like to think my balance is improving after innumerable tumbles into several-feet-tall snow drifts.

But at this point, I'm real ready for spring.

She's been taking her sweet time, but at last, with happiness in my heart and laughter on my lips, I can finally announce, SPRING is here! 

In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie siblings knew spring was coming, too. As cold as the last few months have been, I can hardly complain because winter in Narnia lasted 100 years, and they didn't even have Christmas to look forward to! That's because winter in Narnia was actually the result of a curse of the ruler of that world, the White Witch. Winter only ended in Narnia when the King, the Great Lion Aslan, returned and defeated the Witch.

If souls have weather forecasts and seasonal changes, then mine has been frozen in winter for the last few months, as well. It's been a season of discouragement, disappointment, and the kind of hurt that tears and gnaws and leaves your stomach empty. 

Like winter in Narnia, winters of the soul also end with the coming of the Lord. He enters quietly, breathes life into dying things, frozen things, stony things. And so, although it's been painful, things are budding up as they do before a season of growth. 

I like to think of myself as quite self-sufficient, and so sometimes I think God forces me to rest because I would refuse it otherwise. About a month ago, I caught a flu strain that knocked me flat for a few weeks; seeing my physical weakness with such clarity reminded me of how weak I am emotionally and spiritually as well. 

For the last few months, Jesus has been teaching me to thank Him for my weaknesses because He created me that way. He designed me with weaknesses and limitations so that I'd have to depend on Him, and that's been a liberating truth I've been trying to grasp. What He's showing me lately though is that I'm not made up of strengths with a little weakness on the side, I am fully weak. 

That makes me squirm a little bit. There's a level of weakness with which I'm comfortable -- that little amount that's not too serious, but just serious enough to share with other Christians and make me vulnerable -- but full weakness feels gross. It makes me feel like a bug without an exoskeleton, or a knight without armor: exposed. 

But the beautiful thing about being fully weak and not just sort of weak, is it makes me fully dependent on God. I live every day of my life trying to give myself in full measure to God and to His children because Jesus gave His full measure for me. He lived a life in full service to others, and He gave His full measure of devotion by pouring out His life for the world He loved. He fully atoned for our sins, and now we can stand before the Father, free and clothed in Christ's righteousness. 

Jesus didn't do anything by halves.

How can I not seek to fully repay the One to whom I owe everything?

And yet, Jesus has been telling me that by striving to give Him everything all the time, I'm proving that I don't really understand Him at all.

In fact, He wants us to receive fully from Him.

To receive! To receive His blessings, to receive His rest, to receive His love, to receive His joy; sometimes I forget that although we are promised suffering in this life, it's okay to be happy. It's okay to rest. It's okay to be weak. It's okay to be lonely. All Jesus asks is that we receive Him. I'm learning to receive Him by tuning in -- listening attentively to Him even when I'm tired -- by thanking Him for His goodness and power toward me, and by humbling my head-strong, stubborn will and submitting the desires of my heart to Him.

Receiving fully.

It's such an elementary thought, but you guys! This is absolutely rocking my world. I so desperately want to know Him deeper, know Him better, serve Him and work for Him always, that I've been depriving myself of Jesus the Person, Jesus my Friend, Jesus who wants to be with me and near me. 

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God" (Ephesians 3:16-19).

This morning, some friends and I left campus at 6 a.m. to catch the sunrise over Lake Michigan. We sang praises, read Scripture, and prayed together, and it was glorious. As the sky melted from deep blue to burning fuchsia to muted gold, I thought about the Lord dipping His paintbrush in the water of the lake and smearing watercolors across the sky. I thought of the lake stories about Jesus in the Gospels: when He calmed the storm, called Peter to walk upon the waves with Him, fed His disciples breakfast on the shore. I just never cease to be amazed that the God of the Universe not only wants us to know Him, but He wants to know us. Fully weak though we are, Jesus receives us into His kingdom and holds us in His arms. What wondrous love is this. Only by the power of God's Spirit (who dwells within us, by the way! Crazy.), can we comprehend the love of God. 

On this Easter morning, I'm reminded once more of the full sacrifice of Christ and His reception of us. I pray that we receive Him in His fullness, friends, so that we might be filled to the brim with His love.

I'm so happy that spring is here, but I wouldn't have shortened the winter if I could have. God is so faithful to use painful, hard seasons to draw us deeper into Himself; it's a "hurts-so-good" kind of thing.

"People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time." -- C. S. Lewis

God, Thank You for Making Me Weak.

Greetings, friends, and a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's to you!

I've been home for about three-and-a-half weeks now, and boy has it been glorious.

And by "glorious," I literally mean it's been indicative of God's glory:

Hiking the ridgeline on the Eagle Creek trail in Oregon.

Multnomah Falls, a popular tourist spot in the Columbia River Gorge.

Here, among the trees, surrounded by mountains, where birds chirp, where rain pounds until the pale winter sun breaks through formidable clouds, I am home. I feel safe, I feel comfortable, I feel known, I am cared for, I'm not alone. I see God's glory strikingly showcased in nature so beautiful I feel as if I'm living in a fairyland; it's absolutely unreal. And that's why, as excited as I am to head back to school Sunday morning, I feel like I have to rip a few of my guts out in order to board my plane and leave.

Don't get me wrong -- I love school! I enjoy Chicago. I love my brothers and sisters who await me there, and I'm looking forward to learning alongside them. But there's something about being on my own in a big city that leaves me feeling a little more vulnerable than playing outdoors with other Washington hippies.

What I'm learning right now though is that God gives me easy things and hard things, and I must thank Him for both. He's helping me do that by reminding me that I am His and that He values me. Over the last few months, I've heard His voice more clearly than I have at any other point in my life, and He's been telling me who I am.

In the midst of my desire to please Him perfectly and make Him proud, He comforts me with His peace and whispers to my heart, "You're my daughter. I am proud of you."

When I'm feeling most shaky and insecure, He tells me, "I made you. I think you're beautiful."

And when I feel like there's nothing in me that could ever make Him happy, when I feel alone and unlovely, I've heard Him say, "I like you."

My Father keeps reminding me that He's the one who made everything about me -- including my limitations. If He created me without those, I wouldn't be remotely human; I'd be god. I know that if He designed me to have limits, then my limitations are meant for good because God's creation is good. He is the Giver of good gifts. However, in my sin I can distort what He meant for good and turn it into something detrimental in how I choose to acknowledge my limitations. So I'm learning that the right response is to thank God for my weaknesses, just as I would any other gift He gives me.

Satan tries to use our weaknesses against us by attacking us in those areas he knows we're vulnerable. But by thanking God for our limitations, we transform vulnerabilities from opportunites for harm into opportunities to trust/rely on/run to Him. In limitations, weaknesses, neediness, and hurt, we have opportunity to trust God when He tells us He is good and sovereign. We have the chance to trust what He says about our identities.

By thanking God, I acknowledge my neediness and His provision. I acknowledge my lack of control. The dependence and reliance fostered by thankfulness bring me to the feet of Jesus with open hands and a softened heart.

When I thank God for my weaknesses, I feel my love for Him abound more and more because I know anew my need for Him. I long for Him, as a deer pants for water. I cling to Him because in a world where I feel constantly barraged by all sorts of change and turmoil and circumstances that make my knees knock, only my Lord is constant and unchanging.

I long for Him imperfectly, of course. But the more I thank God for my limitations, the greater freedom I experience to not expect perfection or strength from myself, the more His joy (which is my strength!) floods my heart, and the more His peace reminds me I am allowed (and expected) to cease striving and trust Almighty God.

In these moments I find myself more willing to accept His blessing because I know nothing I do will ever make me worthy of the gifts He showers upon me. It's only  because of His grace (upon grace upon grace upon grace) that I receive any good thing at all. And I trust that He delights to give me good gifts because He delights in me... He delights in me! Oh, friends, the happiness that fills my heart when I truly believe this -- it's overwhelming!  The All-Powerful God who created all the people and places I delight in, delights in me, and because of this, I delight in Him. I no longer feel the need to sabotage His blessing or refuse His gifts and provision, but rather I am able to thank Him from a sincere heart that worships and loves my God who loves me.

That's why, as much as I adore my home in Vancouver, I'm ready for Chicago again because I rely most fully on God when I'm uncomfortable. Discomfort and vulnerability highlight my weaknesses and limitations. My limitations, in turn, highlight His greatness, fullness, and strength.

As Emperor Kuzco would say, "Bring it on."