His Voice

In the beginning, His voice filled the silence.  His smallest whisper called forth substance from nothingness.  When He spoke, waves swelled and crashed against shore, mountains thundered forth from the deep, and galaxies burst into being.

At His word, the universe was formed; and by His word, He sustains it all.

Upon His continued command, planets spin, birds take flight, lightening flashes, and lungs draw breath.

It is at His charge that day follows night; it is by His decree that winter gives way to spring.

His voice alone commands the demons, heals the sick, beckons the dead, and quiets the storm.

                       

The simple utterance of His own holy name throws an army of soldiers to the ground.

And as His body hung broken, weighted heavy with the sin of the world, the same voice that had birthed the cosmos sounded the final victory cry:

"It is finished!"

At His declaration, the earth quaked, rocks were split, graves were opened, dead men walked, the veil of separation was torn in two, and the purchase of our freedom was complete.

The whole of creation answers back:

"And every creature which is in heaven and on the earth and under the earth and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, I heard saying:  'Blessing and honor and glory and power be to Him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever!'"  (Revelation 5:13)

Have you lifted your voice and joined the universal chorus?

For Such a Time as This

It's a phrase that calls to mind the Biblical story of Esther.  It's the statement of encouragement that Mordecai, Esther's older cousin and adoptive father, declared to her as he urged her to plead with a pagan king for the life of the Jewish people living within his empire.  It's a declaration of purpose:  the humble acceptance of God's sovereign will and direction upon a life.

This deeply meaningful phrase has always resonated with me when I read through the story of Esther.  Until my recent in-depth study of the book, however, I hadn't fully absorbed the truth that Esther was not the only individual placed within the Medo-Persian empire "for such a time as this."  I should have known it wasn't that simple.  God's workings are rarely singular or linear; they are a complex weaving together of lives for His divine purposes.

What were the Jewish people doing living in a pagan empire far away from home, anyway?  They had been carried away into exile by the Babylonians during the reign of King Nebuchadnezzar.  God had warned them what would happen if they refused to live by His commandments.  They persisted in their sin, and God's word came to pass:  they were taken captive and deported.  Years later, the Babylonian empire was conquered by the Medes and the Persians.  This is the Medo-Persian empire within which Mordecai and Esther lived.

But here's the twist in the story:  some of the Israelites had left that empire and returned home years before.  So, why were Mordecai, Esther, and many other Jews still living in a foreign land?

The Jewish temple was one of many things demolished during the Babylonian invasions of Judah.  Between the rule of Nebuchadnezzar and the rule of Xerxes (who was the king in power during Esther's time), there ruled a Persian king named Cyrus.  He was a pagan king and did not personally know the God of Israel.  However, God used Cyrus to accomplish His own purposes.  2 Chronicles tells us that God moved Cyrus to declare that the Jews in captivity within his kingdom could return to their homeland to rebuild God's temple.  Talk about a "get out of jail free" card!  Not only were they allowed to go back home, but they were allowed to rebuild the temple that was the center of their spiritual life.

Interestingly, not all the Jews returned.  Ezra 1:5 tells us that "everyone whose spirit God had stirred to go up..." returned to build the temple.  Not everyone, period, but everyone whose spirit God had stirred.  Some Jews remained in the Persian empire because God had chosen not to stir their spirits.  Why?

Only God can answer that question, He is the Master Weaver.  However, I believe the book of Esther gives us a glimpse into why He didn't call everyone to return.  Mordecai's family (and by extension, Esther) were among those who stayed. Had all the Jews gone back to Jerusalem, there would have been no Mordecai to anger Haman.  There would have been no Jews for Haman and Xerxes to place under a decree of mass genocide.  There would have been no young, Jewish girl crowned queen to plead with the heart of the king.  The whole book of Esther would evaporate.  Arguably, that may have been a win for the Jewish people and their mental health, but it most certainly would have been a loss for us.  How much we learn about God's character and sovereign workings from the book of Esther!  God had a story to write within the Medo-Persian empire during those years; He was not yet finished with the Jews who lived there.

So, what of us?  God's Spirit still moves within the hearts of men.  God still calls His people out for "temple-building" missions.  I have learned, however, that God also calls some to remain.  Our hearts are not all stirred in unison; such is the multifaceted purpose and glory of God.  Those Jews who returned to Jerusalem were answering the call of God in their hearts, and it was good.  Those Jews who remained in Medo-Persia were also within the will of God, and it was good.  God had more than one story to write through those years.  Likewise, our hearts will not always be stirred in unison with the believers around us.  We each must evaluate our own hearts:  are they soft and open to the leading of the Holy Spirit?  If so, then we can rest content in our individual callings.

We dare not look in judgement upon the calling and mission of another believer.  God is writing a whole heavenly library worth of stories with our lives.  What an awesome Savior!

Eyes Up Here

My quiet time this morning was centered around John chapter 21.  It tells the story of the reconciliation between Peter and Jesus, following  Peter’s denial and Jesus’ resurrection.  The devotional I was using pointed out a lesson on friendship. God chose to speak something entirely different to my heart.  God gave me a lesson on comparison.

Comparison is a beast that we all battle.  We know we shouldn’t mess with it, we know it’s destructive, but it rears its ugly head and we engage it all the same.  This beast is the illegitimate progeny of a twisted relationship – a child sired by Insecurity and born to a seductive mother named Fear.  In my life, its favorite battleground is my life’s calling, and it is a skilled warrior.

There are so many Godly women that I greatly respect in this life.  Each unique in her own calling; each beautiful to watch serve the Savior.  My admiration so easily warps, however, as I hold my own life and calling up to theirs.  Well, if she’s doing that with her life and I’m not, then who’s right and who’s wrong?  (Did I mention that I become quite narrow-minded when Comparison beats up on me?)  What if I’m on the wrong path?  What if I’ve missed the proverbial boat?

It seems that Peter, too, fought this same beast on this same ancient battlefield.  From a human perspective, he had every right to feel insecure.  He knew he had screwed up big time.  And although he had just been graciously forgiven, embraced by Jesus, and had his life's calling clearly spelled out for him,  he was still feeling a little shaky.  I can empathize.  So, you know what he did?

He turned around.

Like Lot’s wife…

Like the Israelites freed from Egypt…

He looked back.

And he saw John.

I have to believe that John had the “it” factor.  Of all of His hundreds of disciples, Jesus chose 12 who would be His close companions.  And of those 12, it seems that Peter, James and John were particularly close to Him.  And of those 3 intimate relationships, John was considered the beloved one.  John had a good thing going on.  He was a Godly man – someone to be respected and admired – and he surely had Jesus’ favor.  When Peter felt unsure of himself, it made perfect human sense for him to sneak a glance at John.  Surely, if John was on the same path, then Peter was good to go.

But John wasn’t on the same path.

Scripture doesn’t go into a lot of detail, and the wording is difficult to understand, but one thing seems clear:  Peter was trying to gauge his next move by what John was up to, and he saw some sort of discrepancy between their callings that gave him pause.  And do you know what Jesus said to Peter, while Peter was craning his neck around behind him trying to check out what John was up to?

“What is that to you?”

This is not Jesus at His most polite, soft-spoken moment.  This is Jesus getting all up under Peter’s grill.  What does it matter what John’s doing?  If I have a different plan for his life, what is that to you?  Eyes up here, Peter.  You follow Me.

And I hear the voice of the Ancient of Days echo throughout the centuries into my small, quiet reality.  I feel His hand on my cheek, gently turning my face back toward His.  If I choose to lead that servant of Mine down a path that looks different than yours, what is that to you?  Eyes up here, Elizabeth.  You follow Me.

I’ve been quietly digesting the lives of the people around me for quite some time now, trying to make sense of what I see.  Watching the people I know, watching people from a distance, pondering people's lives I read about in compelling books – all of whom I admire.  The truth is, I know my calling.  But I doubt it from time to time.  And God alters our callings over time, have you ever noticed?  He launches us into new spheres, stretches us, redirects us, uses the gifts He's given us in new ways that we hadn’t imagined yet.  I know this, and I try so hard to listen…to follow.  But when I see someone else on a different path, I start to feel shaky.  Did I miss something, Lord?  Did I not hear You right?  Did I not hear You at all?  Are you sure this is where I’m supposed to be?

There is only one Sword to wield on this battlefield - The Word of God.

Eyes up here, Elizabeth.  What is that to you?  You follow Me.

The other night, I laid in bed with these questions bouncing around in my head.  Eventually, I came to my senses, admitted that fretting is just plain crazy when the God of the universe is on your side, and started talking to Him about how I was feeling.  I asked my questions, I left it in His hands, and I went to sleep.

It’s amazing to me how unbound by time Jesus is.  For my morning quiet time, I use a devotional guide that was written years ago.  The passage I was going to read this morning was already determined.  And yet God used it to answer a prayer that I brought before Him just 2 days ago.

Truly, there is no one like our God.

Free

He was unlike anyone I had ever met.

So confident and sure of himself.

Solid.

He could command a room without even trying. People just naturally followed him. In fact, come to think of it, we were following him that very day - the day that's forever sealed in my memory, drawn with indelible ink. While our moms played softball in the field nearby, our small and energetic group set off to explore the surrounding territory. He led, we followed.

I was the outsider. We all knew each other somewhat, but I was the youngest of the group and a bit of a "newbie" to the huddle. So, I hung at the fringe, unsure of myself - following. In truth, he fascinated me. His eyes glinted with fun and adventure, and he wasn't scared of anything. I just wanted to blend in...not make waves...be liked. Not him. He couldn't have cared less what other people thought of him. His whole person seemed to shout, "This is me - what's not to like?!"

As we strolled along that afternoon in the bright sun, we found a heap of old, abandoned tires. He shot a mischievous grin at his best buddy. Then he scrambled up to the top of that pile of tires, turned to face us, and began to belt out the theme song of "The Monkees" at the top of his lungs. As we all dissolved into laughter, I thought, This boy is crazy! My next thought was predictably pre-adolescent, but heartfelt nonetheless: I'm in love!

It wasn't that I thought he was cool.

It wasn't that he had a great voice.

It wasn't even that he was funny.

It was this plain and simple fact: He didn't give a rip what I, or anyone else, thought of him.

I was blown away by his confidence! Not because it was so amazing, I suppose, but because it was so...un-me. What would it feel like to be that free? I had no idea, but I was sure he was the one who could show me.

It took me 3 years to get his attention, but when I finally did, he did not disappoint. I gained a front-row seat to the show entitled, "How to live your life like no one's watching." Let me be clear - he wasn't brazen or careless. He cared very much what God thought of his life, but he lived for an audience of One. As far as anyone else's opinion, he really didn't have the time to care. To a girl who is about as brave and adventuresome as a stick in the mud, he was like one long, breathless roller-coaster ride. Shortly before we were married, he gave me a clue about the nature of our future life together. He said to me, "I'll promise you this - you will never, ever be bored."

Twenty years later, (twenty??!!) he still leaves me breathless. His eyes still glint as he takes me by the hand and pulls me (hyperventilating) out of the predictable and safe. He still lives his life for an audience of One, and couldn't care less what anyone else thinks. And you know what? He's free. In a way I struggle to understand. He frequently advises me to forget about other people's expectations. I hear him...but I don't get it. In theory, and by practical observation, I know he's right. I see the "rightness" of his life. But I have such a hard time cutting all the strings.

I remember learning about photosynthesis in high school science class. In all my short years, I had always believed that tree leaves were naturally green, and were completely transformed once a year to create the magical beauty of autumn. I was fascinated to learn that leaves are, by natural design, all the beautiful colors of autumn. It's the green hue of chlorophyll that masks their true colors the rest of the year. As I drove under a canopy of changing leaves earlier this week, I was struck by the thought that maybe we are all a lot like leaves. It's only when we allow our true colors to be masked by the fear of others' expectations that we all look alike - common green. It made me wonder - what if really, underneath it all, I'm meant to be the one yellow maple in a line of blazing orange ones? Or crazier still, what if I'm a pine tree? And why does that scare me? Isn't that the beauty, not only of autumn, but of the body of Christ?


I deeply admire my husband for many reasons. Not the least of which is his ability to ignore the opinions and expectations of others when he knows he's pleasing the One who really matters. I crave the freedom, contentment and confidence that comes as a result. All these years later, God is still using that boy to teach me, to lead me. I'm grateful. Just so long as I don't have to start singing from the top of a pile of old tires...