Unwrapping His Presence

There’s a word that’s been buzzing about this past year: deconstruction. As in: “taking a “massive inventory of [your] faith, tearing every doctrine from the cupboard and turning each one over in [your] hand” (Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church by Rachel Held Evans p. 50).

While this may seem in vogue for 2020, people have been deconstructing for centuries. Perhaps it’s why we have over 200 denominations in the United States alone. Or why Martin Luther pinned his 95 “Theses” on the door of the Catholic church. 

Wasn’t Jesus the biggest deconstructer of them all? The Phariasees had quite a handle on the law and alas the lives and necks of every Jew until Jesus came along and knocked it all down like a house of cards on proverbial sand. 

It wasn’t the sinner Jesus hated. They (I) are why he came in the first place. No. He hated what the Pharisees had made of their faith and the impossibility to practice it. Jesus came to make all things new. To set the crooked backs of women crippled under the law straight again. To give everyone a seat at the table. A table set by Him, not men. 

People disagree. People argue scripture and its context. People teach from their own upbringing, viewpoint, leaning or agenda. People get offended when said upbringing, viewpoint, leaning, or agenda is questioned. People want to be right. People don’t like hard questions. People don’t want to think about something new from a different view.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Over the past couple of years I have been learning and listening and leaning in to what God has been showing me. While God has not changed as he is steadfast and never changing, my thoughts and understanding have. This is what this deconstruction stuff is all about. It’s not the destruction of my faith but the gutting and reconstruction of it. 

It’s what allows me to have new thoughts and ideas that God is teaching me. It’s what allows me to ask questions, to say if parts and pieces of scripture are hard, to wonder what in the world God was thinking when he allowed this or that to happen. It’s what permits me to show all my feelings instead of believing the person who told me I cannot be angry with God…it’s disrespectful. 

It’s searching scriptures for answers to my questions. And questioning how scripture was presented in a sermon, a teaching, a radio program, around the dinner table, or from those who use their pulpit power to abuse. 

In the very first garden, the serpent asked Eve the question, Did God really say…? He meant it to question the Creator of all things. But what happens when I challenge, not God, but man with the same question? When I can wonder if God really did say…then list the things that are meant to exclude, put in place, keep chained to the law, keep silent, in the kitchen, out of leadership or ministry. 

Women are to be silent in the church. 

Did God really say…? 

Women are to be doormats to their abusive husbands. 

Did God really say…? 

Don’t heal on the Sabbath. 

Did God really say…?

You’ll only receive blessings if you are in church every time the doors are open. 

Did God really say…? 

Don’t drink alcohol. 

Don’t play cards. 

Don’t. 

Don’t. 

Don’t. 

People have been searching the scriptures to see if what Paul said was true (Acts 17:11) for centuries. Sounds a lot like Did God really say… 

Wouldn’t that tick off the enemy if we took the question he used to trick Eve with so long ago, the one that caused labor pains in birth and weeds in the garden, and instead set some folks free. What if we turn the table and used it against him? 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Long before cable television and the plethora of fixer upper type shows one could watch on a 24-hour loop, there was a once-a-week show on PBS called This Old House. Our newlywed selves would watch and learn and dream of possibilities. We learned to look past the cosmetic eyesores like carpet, paint colors, even certain walls and room configurations as those could all be changed, ripped out, torn down. 

What you needed were good bones and a firm foundation. 

I liken my faith journey to a good foundation with some space for tearing down walls that didn’t belong, paint that is out of date, carpet that needn’t be shaggy or orange. 

When I first started seeing this deconstruction buzz word all over social media, I was curious about what all the buzz was about. Once I started reading, I thought to myself I’ve been doing this for the past couple of years. Oh wait, for longer than that. 

Mine began when my oldest daughter came home and announced she was either atheist or agnostic but did NOT believe in our God…of that she was sure. 

I responded like any Momma who has raised their kids in church. What are you talking about?! That is not the way you were raised! 

I was standing at a crossroads. I could keep her in the same box I grew my faith up in, which I had wallpapered and decorated so darn cute. I could let fear ride shotgun and drive my need for control. Or I could sit with her, talk with her, ask her questions and allow space for her to ask hers. I could walk with her as she discovered for herself this Jesus I love so much. 

I chose the latter. I’m so glad I did. 

5 years later in 2016 she decided to follow Jesus. We’ve been Unwrapping His Presence ever since.

It wasn’t always pretty and I very often answered with an I don’t know (it’s amazing when your own faith is questioned and you have to come up with answers other than that’s just what we do/believe and have no scripture back up) …but it was the start of my own asking the question, did God really say?

It was the beginning of leaning into the mystery of God, of the being still, of listening, learning and trusting. It was being okay with sitting in the unknown. It was me keeping my mouth shut, simply loving my daughter and watching God do some pretty awesome things. 

We continue to ask each other hard questions, wander in the wonder and watch God as he watches his daughters unwrap his presence.

I find that when fear is lurking in the shadows, I’m hanging on too tight to old beliefs or control or something in me that is a lie. 

Fear says I have to keep God in my tidy neat box. 

Faith says I can’t wait to watch God move. 

Fear says I have to control everything. 

Faith says God is in control. 

Fear says if I don’t who will. 

Faith says God will supply all needs.

Fear says keep busy. 

Faith says slow down.

Fear says hustle. 

Faith says rest. 

Fear says I have to do before I can be.

Faith says it’s already been done. 

Fear says that’s a dangerous thing to say, you’ll be without volunteers. People of faith will become lazy and lethargic. That’s why we must shove the do in people’s faces. Make them feel guilty. It’s why I love this quote:

“Ignatian discernment, then, isn’t so much about what to do but about who to be. It’s about becoming a person in tune with the movements that lead toward God. The doing will flow from the being.” (God’s Voice Within by Mark E. Thibodeaux, SJ page 6)

I’m seeing this in my own life. My being is what drives my doing. Not the other way around like so many hammer home. 

I like to think of deconstruction as an unwrapping of His presence, of spending time with Him doing nothing but being, of finding the treasure He not only has for me but also that He is. 

John Mark Comer explains that deconstruction is nothing new. Jesus and others use scripture to critique the world corruption of the church. But then there is another type of deconstruction for western millennials who use the world to critique scriptures authority over the church. The former is the way of Jesus. The latter is not. 

He goes on to say that deconstruction is the middle of maturation. Not the end goal. Deconstruction comes in three stages: 

Stage one: construction. It’s what we’re taught about faith. Things are black and white with no shades of grey. (Think You weren’t raised that way!) No questions are asked. I wonder if they are even allowed at this stage? 

Stage two: deconstruction. You realize there are some problems within the construction. You see others’ faith or way to believe. You begin to read scripture for yourself and wonder. So you ask questions. 

Stage three: reconstruction. You study. You learn. You listen. You discern. You rebuild your faith. You unwrap His presence. You see Him more and more. You feel Him in the dark places. He allows questions in wide spaces. (I added my own thoughts to each stage from my own experience.)

It’s a beautiful build. 

It’s a lovely gift to unwrap His presence. 

That’s what I discovered in 2021. 

It’s what I want more of in 2022. 

For me. 

For you

Let’s ask about each other’s stories of faith. Let’s not be afraid to ask hard questions or sit with each other during hard seasons. Let’s sit in the mystery of it all. Let’s look for Him in the pew as we take communion, in the park as we hear sweet giggles, in the least of these and the little things. His presence is in the Bible study at your local church as well as the dishes you are washing, the laundry you are doing or the babies you are feeding. Let’s discover who we are to be before we feel the need to do. Let’s have an absolute blast as we unwrap His presence! 

Stay wild my friends! 

kw

Doubts in the Dark of Night

Why is it always at night? The thoughts. The doubts. The meandering mind. The what if’s and might be’s. 

That’s where I found myself recently after a call in the middle of the night from my daughter. The babies were coming seven weeks early. She was in Colorado feeling scared. I was on the last day of vacation in Florida feeling helpless. 

I felt my way out to the couch of the hotel room not wanting to wake anyone else. I couldn’t sleep and needed to pray. And I did…for the babies and the team who would deliver these sweet sugars. For Mackenzie and James. 

Then like the ocean I watched just that morning, the waves of doubt drowned out even a mustard seed of faith. I started asking God questions, expecting answers like he was the dice in a Magic Eight ball…  

What if this thing goes sideways? Surely you won’t let it after all they’ve been through…

Shake. Shake. Shake.

Cannot predict now. 

Are You who You say You are? 

Shake. Shake. Shake.

Most likely. 

Can I trust You? 

Shake. Shake. Shake.

Concentrate and ask again. 

And if not, are you still good? 

Shake. Shake. Shake it harder. 

Reply hazy. Try again. 

As if this is who my Father is…a mean spirited, almighty smiter who takes joy in watching His child struggle in the dark of night, in an unfamiliar place, with apprehension and angst. 

As if He answers our honest questions with vague replies on a tiny dye floating in purple liquid. 

As if.

We got the all-is-well call a couple hours later. The girls were small but doing well. Mackenzie was good. The trauma team was excellent. I was so thankful! As the morning progressed, I felt relief, yes, thankful, yes, but also something I hadn’t felt in quite a while…shame. 

 At my unbelief. At my mistrust. At my faithlessness. 

The thing is, I’m far enough along in my faith to know I can bring anything to God…my doubts and fears, worries and concerns, my weariness and wariness, my anger and fits…all of it. He’s a big God with big shoulders. 

So why the shame? It caught me off-guard. 

God and I are working through that and here’s what He’s showing me. If you’ve ever struggled with doubt or middle of the night brain that doesn’t shut off, I hope it helps you too. 

The Wall. A dark and sacred place that reeks of God. His mercy and goodness, yes. But also, His sovereignty over all things, His thoughts that are not like mine, His actions that are not like mine. His goodness. His trustworthiness. His justice. His love. 

There’s another odor here at the Wall…the stench of my own middle of the night wonderings. My doubts. My faithlessness. My anger. My fear. My sweat from fight or flight angst. 

The Wall is the unmasking of me, my deepest secrets are revealed, fears are brought to the forefront and wounds exposed. I have a choice here at the Wall…burn rubber and get the hell out of there or stay, knowing God is with me in this dark and desolate place. 

My doubts, fears, mistrust, angst, worries, wonderings are all welcome here. Those dark nights of the soul are opportunities for God to show up and show you His scars first-hand. It’s the place where we don’t ride the skirt tails of someone else’s faith. 

It’s a place that I, like Thomas, need to see Jesus, to experience God for myself. It’s a place of deepening faith as Jesus shows me, not only His wounds but my own…those that hold me back from trusting Him completely. 

At the Wall I can ask, are you Who You say You are? I can rest assured when my faith is shaken, He doesn’t answer with a Magic 8 ball response. He invites me to come and see for myself.  He doesn’t play the shame game. He shows so I can tell. 

A faith that has wrestled with wonderings is welcomed at the Wall. A faith that walks with a limp after a night of grappling is greater than pretending that all is picture perfect. I’d rather smell like sweaty surety than fake faithfulness. 

Maybe now is a good time to mention that Christian cliches’ are crap anytime, but especially in the dark of night. 

Let go and let God…says the Pleasantville wife whose life is lived in black and white with no room for the colorful life that wondering brings. 

God never gives you more than you can handle…ummm, what Bible are you reading? I call a big pile of bull-crap on that one. Raise your hand if you’ve been given more than you can handle at one time or another. 

Everything happens for a reason…those words are not helpful to the woman whose doctor said, you have cancer or the parents who are burying their baby, or the man whose wife walked out the door. Maybe there is a bigger picture, a better plan but whatever hard thing you’re going through can suck big time and it’s okay to say that.

And if not, He is still good…don’t we love to take deep spiritual truths, put a pretty filter around them and make them Instagram worthy? Never mind the blood, sweat and tears, poured out, wrestled out and cried out because when the mask is off, it ain’t always pretty. 

At the end of the day, yes, He is still good, but I need space to tangle with this truth. Don’t you? I need a place to say, are You? Are you still good? Show me. Show me Your goodness.

Put your picture-perfect smile and your Tammy Faye eyelashes away and sit with me at the Wall. Don’t hold your nose at the stench of my sweaty arm pits as I decide to stay and fight or flee. Don’t make fun of my limp after a night of wrestling with God. And please, I beg of you, put the clichés away. They are not helpful when the night is dark, my mask removed, and Wall is high. 

Be a safe space for questions without answers or questions with hard answers. And I’ll be one for you too. 

Let’s be like the woman at the well (wall?) who left her water jar and perhaps her shame, ran back to the town and shouted, Come, see a Man who told me everything I ever did! Unmasked, unashamed, sweaty from running (and wrestling?) and excited about God knowing her…the real her. 

Don’t be afraid to doubt, to wonder, to wrestle. He will meet you where you are, as you are and welcome you to come and see for yourself. 

kw 

Naming That Emotion

Have you ever found yourself denying what you’re actually feeling? Shoving it down, poo-pooing it, staying busy so you can ignore it? 

That’s where I found myself a few months back when two domestic dogs busted into the chicken coop and killed 18 of the 23 hens we have here on my (very) mini farm.

I was completely confused when awakened out of a dead sleep to the sound of a dog barking in what appeared to be my back yard. I peeked out of my second story bathroom window, didn’t see anything amiss and went back to bed, only to hear the barking again. 

Peeking through the blinds once more, I saw a lot of flapping in the coop as well as two very large animals. I threw on some pants, ran down the stairs and out the garage door, grabbing a metal bat on the way. (In the afterthought, I’m not sure what good a bat would have done, but hey, I was in panic mode!)

It was a massacre. Dead chickens outside the coop. Dead chickens inside the coop. Feathers everywhere. A Great Pyrenees and Black Lab/Rottweiler mix had busted through the fence and was having a hay day “playing” with their prey. 

I banged the metal bat on the clothesline pole and started yelling. Fortunately, that startled them, and they took off in the back field. 

I stood there stunned. And did what every farmher does when her animals have been brutally killed…I cried. 

Carson and I got everything cleaned up, killed the ones that didn’t die but were severely wounded, called the dog warden who sent someone out and talked to the neighbor, then I also talked to the neighbor. (Did I mention my man was out of town? No? Yeah…) 

If you’ve followed me for very long, then you know this isn’t my first rodeo with something killing my chickens. We’ve had racoons, fox and weasels all wreak havoc in the coop. Shoot, I even walked out to a great horned owl with a hen in its claws. 

I am known as the chicken chucker after sharing the story of pushing my wheelbarrow full of dead chickens…curse you weasel!…out to the field behind us, chucking them while berating myself for being so dang out of shape. Come to find out my wheelbarrow had a flat tire. 

So, no. Not my first rodeo over here. 

But never the neighbor’s pet dogs. 

I couldn’t quite get over it. How do I know that? I kept talking about it. And yet, I would tell myself they were just chickens. This has happened before. What is wrong with you? I would apologize and tell Todd or Mallory or Mackenzie or Macey or any other person who would listen, that I was so sorry to still be talking about it. It’s okay, they would say. It was traumatic for you.

Traumatic? Nah. They were just chickens. This has happened before. What is wrong with you? 

I shoved it down deeper until several days later I spoke the word I had been feeling but wouldn’t allow myself to say because it was too big a word for the circumstance considering…they were just chickens. This has happened before. What is wrong with you? 

Violated. I felt violated. And I fought it. People are abused. Homes are broken into. Innocent children are sold into sex slavery. And I felt…violated?!? They were just chickens, not children. Not women hiding from a sick and twisted abuser. 

It WAS a strong emotion but until I allowed myself to say that that was what I was feeling was I able to deal with it. Psychologist Dan Siegel refers to this practice as “name it to tame it.” He goes on to say, so what’s the value of getting people to express what they’re actually feeling, rather than keeping things relentlessly light and bland? The answer is that naming our emotions tends to diffuse their charge and lessen the burden they create. 

We cause ourselves more harm than good when we try to keep the feeling at bay by cramming it down, keeping busy, ignoring it or denying it…for whatever reason we tell ourselves…instead of naming the thing. 

Dr. Brene Brown says the first step to moving through emotion is naming it.

I was stuck in they were just chickens, this has happened before, what is wrong with you cycle and would not move forward until I allowed myself to be honest about what I was feeling…big emotion or not. 

So why do we cram it down, swallow it whole, ignore it, deny it? 

We judge ourselves for feeling the feeling. Ummm…reread what I wrote above…yeah…I may have forgotten my own advice this time because feel your feelings has been a mantra of ours for a very long time.

We compare and that’s not fair to anyone including ourselves. Someone else’s circumstance may be worse than yours (like kid’s sold in sex trafficking) but it doesn’t lessen the trauma you’ve been through. Or perhaps the comparison looks more like how you think someone would react or even did react…but they are not you and you are not them. 

We’re embarrassed by what we’re feeling. Recognize that I should or I shouldn’t feel this way is the enemy to healing what actually is. My oldest daughter was diagnosed with clinical depression in high school but went undiagnosed for over a year. Why? Because, in her words at the time, she came from a good family, got good grades, and went to church so what did she have to be depressed about.

We can’t heal what we don’t reveal. Once I had the wherewithal to say, I know this may seem like a big emotion for what happened but I feel violated. Then we could figure out where that was coming from and move through it. 

We want to appear like we’ve got it all together so acknowledging our feelings may feel like a shortcoming, failure or mistake. 

We might think that by expressing an emotion that may be perceived as negative will make us look weak and lacking control. 

You guys, someones pets came into my safe space and killed something that was mine. My man was out of town, and I felt vulnerable and violated. It was a big honest feeling as a result of my little slice of heaven looking like a killing field.  

It’s okay to feel big feelings! Just don’t let yourself get stuck in that quicksand of emotion.

Now more than ever…I’m looking at you worldwide pandemic…we need to be able to express what we’re feeling, have safe places to do so and not be embarrassed. 

Will you be that space with me? 

kw

The Lyrics of Listening (Do You Hear What I Hear?)

We were up to our elbows in peach juice as we peeled, quartered, and cooked down one bushel of peaches into 30 pints of jam. The Steely Dan channel was cranking out some great sing-a-longs from the ‘70’s. We were peeling and stirring and taste testing and jamming away (see what I did there!) when my man looks at me and says…

Did you just say moonshine?

Yeah. Isn’t that what they’re saying? 

He just smiled. 

A half a bushel of peaches and a few songs later…

Did you say building all the castles in mind?

Yeah. What do you think they’re saying? 

Something about jasmine but definitely not castles. 

The next day, we figured out the titles to both songs and looked up the lyrics. 

The first song is Dancing in the Moonlight with the title all throughout the verses as well as the chorus. But hey, if I’m dancing with some moonshine, everybody WILL feel warm and bright. It WOULD be a fine and natural sight if everybody danced with some moonshine! 

The second song I may have rewritten is called Summer Breeze and they were not, in fact building castles in their minds but rather that summer breeze that makes me feel fine was blowin’ jasmine through my mind. Maybe I’m anticipating the next Outlander book coming out in November…Scottish castles and Jamie Fraser but I heard what I heard and jasmine was nowhere to be found. 

I’ve been known to get a lyric or two wrong before. I thought for sure Van Halen was saying animal instead of panama which coincidentally is also the title of said song. 

I’m not the only one. Here’s a few more I found on the internet. See if you can pick up on what the actual words are or recognize the song. I’ll put the answers at the bottom of the page. No cheating!

  1. Dancing queen, feel the beat of the tangerine.
  2. Let’s pee in the corner. Let’s pee in the spotlight. 
  3. Kickin’ your cat all over the place. 
  4. These ants are my friends, they’re blowin’ in the wind. 
  5. It doesn’t make a difference if we’re naked or not. 
  6. Rock the cat box. 
  7. Wrapped up like a douche, another rumor in the night. 
  8. Then I saw her face now I’m gonna leave her. 

It’s funny how we can listen to the same song, at the same volume, in the same room, doing the same task and hear something different. 

I feel like that’s the world we live in today. I wish it were as lighthearted and simple as wrong lyrics to a song. Sigh. Unfortunately, it’s with most everything. We’re all losing our religion because I’m crying out to be noticed (that’s me in the corner) and you think I’ve told you to pee there or in the spotlight. Bigger sigh. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

How do we listen better? How do we really hear what someone is trying to tell us? Here are ten quick things you can do (or not do) to become a better listener: 

Be Fully Present by putting your phone down. Nothing says I’d rather be elsewhere than checking your phone every time it dings. 

Pay Attention by facing the person, making eye contact and watching your body language. Nod your head, smile or other appropriate facial expressions. Stay engaged. 

Practice Reflecting instead of Deflecting by asking for more information, how did that make you feel or how did they react to that?  We can bounce back what they’ve told us by using language like, what I hear you saying is…, or if I’m hearing you right, this is how you took that. 

So often we want to give our opinion here or share a personal story when really we need to find out more information or may be there to simply listen. 

Ask Direct Questions…Even the Obvious Ones. Jesus had a way of getting rid of distractions with trenchant questions. To the blind beggar Bartimaeus he asked, What do you want me to do for you? To the disciples of John the Baptist, as they crept along behind him, attracted yet cautious: What do you seek?  To the man who had been disabled for 38 years: Do you want to get well? 

Sometimes obvious questions or questions that have “obvious” answers lead to the most interesting conversations. We never want to assume we know the answer when we’re trying to be good listeners. 

Realize You Don’t Have to Always Have a Wise Response. Many times a person needs to know they are heard. They aren’t looking for you to have all the answers. Simply listening is sometimes the most loving thing you can do. I see this after I’ve sat across from a woman and listened to her story or why she wanted to talk with me. There is such a burden lifted off the other person just by feeling heard…no wisdom given or needed…just two ears and zipped lip. 

Realize You Don’t Have to Understand Everything. I don’t have to get it or you to be able to hear what you’re saying, feeling or struggling with. There’s a lot I don’t understand and yet, I can be there for you with those same two ears and zipped lip. 

Realize You Don’t Have to Evaluate and Interpret Everything. I’m so glad for this one! I don’t have to figure it all out for you (or have that wise response) or decipher a life code. But I can sit in it with you and listen. 

Realize You Don’t Have to Keep the Conversation Lively. You aren’t at a party or trying to entertain someone. Sometimes silence is the most sacred space you can share with someone. 

Realize the Value of the Person You’re Listening To. The person I’m listening to is made in God’s image. If we remember that, we don’t have to agree with them to be a person who listens well. Don’t come in with a preconceived opinion because of their religious or political view or life-style choice or skin color or whatever it is that makes you different from them. The moment we label, we limit. 

Understand the Sacredness of Holding That Space. The person sitting opposite me is always somewhat of a mystery. For her to share her story, her thoughts, her ideas is a chance to realize what an honor it is to be there, sitting with her in it. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

By the end of our peach jamming day, we were both exhausted in the best way. We each had a drink of choice and were discussing how hateful the world can be today with everyone chiming in with their opinions. When my man said…

You know what the world needs? 

What?

More people drinking a glass of wine and singing some Earth, Wind and Fire…even if they get the lyrics wrong sometimes. We need more people singing. 

I agree. 

So. How many did you get right? Here are the answers to the lyric bloopers from above. 

  1. Dancing Queen by Abba is not feeling the beat of the tangerine but rather the tambourine! 
  2. Losing My Religion by REM. It’s terrible advice to pee in the corner or in the spotlight. Singer Michael Stripe is telling us, that’s me in the corner. (Don’t pee on him either.) 
  3. We Will Rock You by Queen is kicking your can all over the place. No cats were harmed in the making of this song. 
  4. Blowin’ in the Wind by Bob Dylan is not friends with ants but what is blowin’ in the wind are these answers my friend. 
  5. Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi. The fictional couple Tommy and Gina remain fully clothed for all we know but weren’t sure if they remained a couple because it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not. 
  6. Rock the Casbah by the Clash. A Casbah is a North African castle or fortress. But if you’re cleaning out the litter box, you can rock the cat box too 
  7. Blinded by the Light by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band. Spotify named this Bruce Springsteen cover as the most misquoted song lyric with over half of listeners getting the words wrong. He is singing, Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.
  8. I’m a Believer by the Monkees. Her face was fine and made him a believer. No hearts were broken! 

kw

An Upside-Down Perspective

Thou has made us for Thyself, O Lord; and our heart is restless until it rests in Thee. (Augustine) 

It snuck up on me. I’m not usually a grumpy kind of person but I was so far behind and had so much to do that I’d surely never catch up this summer. I know I’m overwhelmed when two things start happening: 

1. I find fault with everything. Around here there will ALWAYS be something to do or something that needs done. (Anybody?) We always have projects going and with a husband who travels a lot, things get done but on a timeline that is a bit slower sometimes…due to my lack of muscle/ability or his absence. It’s been this way for years and doesn’t bother me unless I’m feeling the weight of all of it because there is just so much to do. 

Most of the time I look for the beauty of things, even in the chaos…I see the sunflowers instead of all the weed pulling that needs done. But when my heart is not at rest, I can only see the weeds. Oh, and the swing on the ground beside the frame it’s supposed to be hanging from that’s also sitting in one of those unfinished-til-fall-projects-because-it-got-too-wet-to-finish-in-the-spring. Did I mention the excavator that’s in the yard? Sigh…see what I mean?  

2. I find myself feeling meh at things that usually bring me joy. Why did I plant such a big garden this year…these weeds are ridiculous! I put my head down, switch to go mode and work myself like a Clydesdale on an Amish farm. Get ‘er done becomes the battle cry. 

Hurry up and run errands. Hurry up and cook dinner…oh who am I kidding…order a pizza or grab it and growl. Hurry up and do my Bible study. Hurry up and get through this book. Hurry up and get through this day. Hurry up and do the laundry…why do we have to wear all these clothes…thanks Adam and Eve!  Hurry up and Get. It. Done. 

I know I’m not alone. It doesn’t matter the what, most all of us run on a schedule that’s too full, having too much to do with too little time to do it. It makes us cranky and unthankful. 

What if the solution wasn’t to go faster? What if it wasn’t to shore up the schedule to be more productive? What if the solution wasn’t less sleep or wishing you had more hours in your day? What if the very thing we need to do is S-L-O-W D-O-W-N? 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The way of Jesus is countercultural. It is upside-down and inside-out. A kingdom where weakness is power, power is weakness and suffering leads to glory. 

Whoever is least among you is the greatest. (Luke 9:48)

Jesus said that in his kingdom the first will be last and the last will be first. (Matthew 20:16)

He told us to love our enemies and pray for them. (Matthew 5:44) 

He chooses the foolish to shame the wise. (1Corinthians 18-31)

God’s power is perfected, not in how strong we are, but in our weakness. (2Corinthians 12:7-10) 

His command in Psalm 46:10 is to stop striving (be still) and recognize He is God. 

He tells us to stand still and let Him fight battles for us. (2Chronicles 20:15)

When things are out of control or overwhelming or there’s so much to do, the very last thing we think to do is to slow down, be still, stop striving, fighting, trying and look for God. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

One of my peers in Spiritual Direction wrote something that is simply beautiful. Here is what she said as part of a book review: 

I felt validated and at peace when he said on page 40, “I believe there are three things that define the posture of good listeners: a contemplative attitude, an open spirit, and a humble perspective.” I believe I do this in my troubled times, if only between me and God. The other morning, I woke up and my nails were clinching into palms and making those moons. My daughter wasn’t doing well. I had a ton of work to do that day and I felt this sense of failure regarding my family and friendships. I didn’t want to get out of bed, so I asked God what to do and I felt the Lord say, “Do what you always do but slower and notice every moment.  

So, I showered, noticing the drops and the warmth. I patted myself dry, noticing the threads of the towel. When I made my bed I smoothed my hands over every wrinkle. I sipped my coffee quietly and watched the swirls of cream and felt the warmth on my two hands as I lifted the cup. It was all so sacred. My spirit became open. I felt humbled to be alive and I was experiencing every moment. The fear of my failure melted as I moved into my tasks and all I could say was “Thank you.”

Notice nothing changed. Except her speed. 

So I moved the above mentioned swing and frame to the back yard under a canopy of trees (pictured above) and got still. Using all of my senses: 

I felt the temperature drop in the shade of the forest-like setting. 

I heard the cat bird call reminding me that God cares about the birds…and me. 

I sniffed the air and noticed it’s starting to smell like fall reminding me that time comes in seasons and no season lasts forever…find things to be thankful for in the season you’re in. 

I watched as squirrels scampered, bunnies hopped, birds flew and was reminded of the One who is the maker of all things. 

I basked in the glory of the sun that filtered through the trees and let out a sigh from the depths of my being. 

I felt a sense of peace in the rhythm of that swing. 

Slowing down was exactly what my soul needed. Maybe yours does too? 

kw

It’s Been the Longest Two Weeks Ever!

A prayer shawl gifted, my FIL’s walking stick and eggs from my chickens.

One year ago today I wrote in my journal: 

03/12/20 Thursday: COVID 19 is causing quite a stir. Quarantine Day 1. 

I stopped counting in my journal on “Q Day 65”. It was supposed to take two weeks to help flatten the curve and here we are, 365 days later, still figuring things out. What does one call this day? It certainly isn’t Happy Anniversary. Unhappy AnniversaryA Year to Remember or maybe Forget? 

We’ve all had plenty of time to be with ourselves, by ourselves, learning about ourselves. What did you gain? What did you lose? What did you like? What did you not? What have you changed? What has stayed the same? What did you miss? What didn’t you miss? What have you discovered about yourself? Your people? Others? Church? God? What did you learn you could do even when you didn’t think you could? 

There’s no way to answer all these questions in one 1,000-word post. I’m still perusing them in my head, as well as others. (My mind is in need of some garden therapy, truth be told. Soon, dear heart. Soon.) 

There is something God began teaching me a couple years ago that perhaps I didn’t appreciate until these past 12 months and that is the art of finding sacred in the simple, of learning to lean into the ordinariness of every day and being grateful for hallowed simplicity. 

The smell of fresh bread baking. 

The way the light shines across the wood floor in late afternoon. 

The first tiny green bean. 

Eating a tomato fresh off the vine. 

The ticking of the grandfather clock. 

The daffodils breaking through the cold ground of winter. 

Gathering eggs each day. 

Homemade pizza. 

A lit candle.

I could go on, but you get the picture. 

This past year has me longing for more as well. More prayer and less scared. More tradition and less thrill. More depth of teaching and less fluff. More cathedral and less concert. More being and less doing. More transformation and less information. More faith that is unshakable and less excuses that I am unable. 

I wonder if, in my pre-covid days, I missed opportunities to serve, to be, to learn, to experience, to trust because I was looking past the simple in search of something with grandeur, something greater, a bigger stage, a wider audience? I wonder if I missed the sacred moments with God because I was making it too difficult to see what seemed like the unimportant thing? 

* * * * * * * * * *

In Exodus chapter three we find Moses doing a very routine thing on an ordinary day tending to the sheep of his father-in-law Jethro. He sees a burning bush that doesn’t get burnt up. He gets to experience the Lord out there in the middle of nowhere like no one has ever experienced him. 

The Lord has a conversation with Moses about his people, Moses’ lineage and God’s chosen ones. God sees their misery under the heavy hand of Pharaoh and wants Moses to go to Pharaoh and free the people. Moses gives God all manner of excuses: Who am I to do such a thing? What if they ask me who it is that is sending me? What if they don’t believe me. 

God has a response to every objection and the assurance of his presence. Moses still isn’t convinced. Then the Lord asks Moses this simple question: What is that in your hand? To which Moses replies, My staff. 

My staff. 

Something so familiar. Something Moses has used every single day while taking care of Jethro’s sheep. Something that is simply an extension of him after such a long period of time working in the wilderness. 

I love this. I love that God would squelch some fears with something familiar. Moses would soon become a shepherd of people and tend to them on a journey into the unknown with something known, into the uncomfortable with something comforting. 

I imagine when he grabbed hold of his staff there was familiar groove that fit his hand perfectly, reminding him that God could take this simple thing to free his people. God could take that which was in the hand of Moses and use it for his glory. 

* * * * * * * * * *

God uses the simple, the familiar to do spectacular things. I realized this past year that I’ve made serving God too complicated. I’m like Moses in many ways. When God asks me to do something that seems too hard or I make too hard, that I feel unable or inadequate to do and I just want him to leave me to tend to my things, I can hear him ask me, What is that in your hand? 

I’ve often discounted the simple things as serving. That somehow serving has to be done at church, through an organization, with much fanfare, pomp and circumstance. But in reality, God can use the ordinary to do the extraordinary when we answer his question. 

What is that in your hand? 

For me, I’m learning, it can be as simple as giving the fruits of my labor from the garden to someone as a gift because they love homegrown things. I can give a dozen of the most gorgeous blue and brown eggs as a gift. Better yet, I can bake brownies for someone using my Granny’s recipe with my fresh eggs. Or it can be giving someone something they need from out of our abundance. 

I’m learning to see the words I write as a gift given to me so that I can use them to encourage, empower and enlighten. 

I’m learning that listening to someone’s story is as holy a ground as Moses walked, a sacred space, not to be taken lightly. 

It would be easy to overlook that which has become so familiar as something God can use in service to him. But isn’t it like him when we bring our excuses to ask us the same question he asked of Moses? 

What is that in your hand? Let me show you how I can use it to free people, shepherd people, love people, direct people, feed people, stretch people, give people a drink of cold water, make a way for people. 

How would you answer that question? How could God use what you hold?

This past year was challenging. We didn’t have a choice but to sit with it and in it and endure it. And we DID! 

What has this past year of only two weeks taught you? 

kw

Other posts that might be of interest:

2020 In Retrospect

25 Bible Verses to Abide in During Anxious Times

When Life Throws You Zingers

Right Motive, Wrong Season

It was an unusually sunny November day, and I was cleaning out the garden boxes and tidying up some areas when I noticed this strawberry plant blooming. Because of the season I was in personally my immediate thoughts were Girlfriend (because who doesn’t talk to their plants in the garden?) what are you doing blooming this time of year? Can’t you see your buddy right there beside you with frostbite? 

I see you little strawberry flower. While I appreciate your effort, this is not the season for you. Winter is coming. 

Have you ever asked yourself, what was I thinking?  Or perhaps you got in the thick of it and simply knew this was the wrong time to be doing what you’re trying to do. You have the right motive but it’s the wrong season. 

That’s where I found myself that day, in the middle of the garden, talking to a strawberry plant.

Because God uses the simplicity of nature to teach us deeper lessons, here’s some he taught me during that season.  

Open Doors and Warning Signs

I don’t have to nor should I walk through every door opened for me or say yes to every opportunity presented. I had waited for a long time for this gate to swing wide and because of that, I ignored the warning signs, the quickening in my Spirit, and forged ahead with a Finally! attitude. 

I was like that strawberry bloom who trusted the rare sunshine on a November day but ignored the freeze warnings from the rest of the month. Ignored the dead leaves and fellow strawberry turned brown from cold temps. 

Surely, I can bear fruit in the off season, in a toxic environment, with all these warnings. It’s what I thought I was meant to do…even though winter was coming. 

Plans fail with no counsel, but with many counselors they succeed. (Proverbs 15:22CEB)

I didn’t seek wise counsel. 

Maybe it was because I was so sure this open door of opportunity was right for me because I wanted it for so long that I (arrogantly) didn’t feel I needed to ask anyone about it. 

Or maybe it was because I knew they would point out the freeze warnings and tell me to shut the door. Was this something I had put on such a pedestal, blizzard be damned, I’m moving forward? Be careful what you idolize. 

Seek counsel from someone who needs nothing from you but wants the best for you. Be thankful for open doors of opportunities but don’t ignore the warning signs or the wisdom of another. 

Waiting is Frustrating

And tiring. And discouraging. Anybody? 

You’ve prayed and waited. You’ve encouraged others and waited. You’ve watched others move forward and waited. You feel the weight of the wait and don’t know how much longer you can manage the load of it all. 

Sarah got tired of waiting and moved ahead of God. After decades of waiting for a child of her own, who can blame her really, what a mess it all became! She told her husband to sleep with her maid so her maid could get pregnant because God told them she, Sarah, would have a child so maybe this was the way because God certainly wasn’t doing anything….not fast anyhow. 

Esther understood the importance of waiting. After seeking wise counsel from her cousin Modecai, she fasted and prayed (now there’s a concept Kim) and devised a plan. She carried out said plan with patience and trusted the timing. As a result, God’s chosen people and Esther’s lineage was saved from decimation. 

Be still in the presence of the Lord and wait patiently for him to act. (Psalms 37:7 NLT) 

Whenever I want to help God out, stop praying and start doing or get tired of waiting, it’s because I want to control the situation, I want to call the shots, send in the signals for the next play and control the clock. Instead, I need to be still. With the Lord. And not just wait but wait patiently. Sigh. 

Trust God

I can trust God because he is trustworthy. He is for me (and you) like no one else is. He has a view of my situation (and yours) from an angle we never will. He is all knowing, all powerful, ever present. He is a Father who loves me (and you) like no one is able to love us. He wants what’s best for us and we can trust him to open doors we are to walk through and warn us of open doors we are to shut. We need only pay attention. 

We can trust: 

God’s plan for us. He has one. And it’s good because he is good!

God’s timing for us. There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3:1NIV) 

God’s ability to do what he says he will do. With his plan, not ours. In his time, not ours. 

He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. (Psalm 1:3NIV)

It took a strawberry bloom to show me that even though my motive was right, the season was wrong. She taught me to trust the warning signs and not just the whims of a sunny day. She taught me that though she got frost bit, she’s still meant to bloom. In the right season, she will bear fruit. 

kw

FACE LIFTS for Everyone! (How to Love Well)

Indeed, if you fulfill the royal law prescribed in the Scripture, Love your neighbor as yourself, you are doing well. (James 2:8 CSB)

Have you ever watched someone with low self-esteem or insecurities hang their heads? Or the cashier whose line is long and customers patience short? By the time you get ready to pay, he won’t even look you in the eye. Or how about the young Mom with one in the cart, one on the hip and one in the oven whose “free one” is throwing a tantrum in the cereal aisle? Do you roll your eyes? Judge? 

How do we love those with whom we disagree? Who are different than us? What about the playground bully? Or disgruntled colleague? Or online adversary? 

Love one another is a simple yet profound theology.  

When I was a little girl, my Grandfather would often lift my face to look at his just so I could see into the eyes of someone who cared, someone who loved me deeper than the oceans. 

We all have a Father who is a lifter of heads, One who lifts our faces to look at His so we can see someone who cares. (Psalm 3:3)

I want to love people well. I want to be a lifter of faces too. 

How do we do this? How do we love our neighbor? How do we love ourselves? How do we do it well? 

Using the acronym FACE LIFT, here’s how: 

Forgive. If we really want to love, we must learn how to forgive. (Mother Theresa)

I’m not asking you to move in, hang out, be friends, or associate with someone who has wronged you, hurt you, bullied you, or otherwise. I’m saying forgiveness is a decision you make that frees you from being connected to the person you are forgiving. Forgiving them is loving yourself well. 

Maybe it’s yourself you need to forgive. You cannot move forward in the fullness of who you are meant to be until you accept your own apology. 

Ask. Before you judge instead of love, ask yourself the what ifs. What if this were me? What if this were my child? What if this were my spouse? Coworker? Best friend? Young Mom? Cashier? Neighbor across the street? 

There is a difference between good judgment and living in judgment. 

Putting ourselves in the shoes of others often make us realize their journey is harder to walk than we thought.

Care. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. (Elie Wiesel) 

Indifference: Lack of interest or concern. 

We’ve become a culture who has become so immune to the fact that we are all imago dei, made in the image of God that we miss many opportunities to love. 

We’re more interested in being heard (loudly)…can’t you just hear those keys tapping out a response to those we disagree with on FaceBook because everybody knows letting everyone know OUR opinion about what this idiot thinks is important. Hint: that’s not loving anybody well.  

We are concerned alright, about being right. And if you disagree, well, then, we obviously cannot care about each other. Sigh…

How did we get here? 

Loving others well, is caring, being interested, showing concern, no matter if someone disagrees with you, looks different than you, thinks different than you, all are made in God’s image. 

Engage in diverse, meaningful relationships. Nothing says love louder than striking up purposeful friendships with those who are not like you! Being able to ask questions, finding out the who’s, what’s and why’s of a different culture, seeing life through someone else’s lens is a beautiful way of walking a path different than your own. 

Love comes from understanding. Understanding comes from learning. Learning comes from engaging. 

Listen to learn not to give a defense or be ready with a response. I can’t hear you if my mind is articulating what it wants to say. 

Listen is such an ordinary little word that we pass by it pretty quickly as a way to love someone. But who hasn’t, at one time or another not felt heard? What did that feel like? Certainly not like being loved. 

Listening to someone’s story is a sacred space, a holy place that needs room to simply be heard. 

Want to love someone well? Shut your mouth, open your ears and listen. 

Identify your own blind spots. We all have them. Those areas with deep roots that pave the way for how you think, how you act, how you treat others. It may not be your hands that planted the seeds but it is your responsibility to dig out the weeds. 

We can’t love others well with roots of shame and hurt. 

We can’t love others well with roots of racism and bigotry. 

We can’t love others well with roots of silver spoons or a poverty mentality. 

We can’t love others well with roots of unforgiveness or anger. 

My view of others is skewed by my own weeds and roots. Your view of others is skewed by your own weed and roots. 

Have an honest conversation with yourself about your blind spots so you can see others as God see them. 

Free others to be themselves. This can be twofold: 

One: we need to be each other’s biggest cheerleaders and number one fans! Don’t hold someone back because of your own jealousy, fear or immaturity. Loving others well says, “Go for it!” “You can do this!” 

Two: sometimes we need to let go and walk away because no matter how hard you try, the leopard cannot change its spots. So, be free! Go be a leopard at someone else’s house. That’s loving yourself well. And that’s okay to need to do…for you. 

Tune in to your surroundings. We can’t love what we don’t notice. We don’t notice what we don’t pay attention to. 

Put your phone down (guilty over here!) and see the person in front of your face. That cashier who had his head down? Be kind instead of flustered. That young Mom with a cart full of kids and handful of groceries? Help her out to her car. 

How about that person who disagrees with you? What if you said, that’s an interesting view point. How did you come to that conclusion? Then zip your lip and listen. 

What about the people under your very own roof? How are you loving them well? What do they need? That surly teenager may have just bombed a big test. Can you tell him he is more than a grade in a gradebook? How about your spouse? Is her mood because of you or because she’s not been able to have one moments peace or pee by herself all day long? What can you do for her to love her well? (Hint: it probably has nothing to do with lingerie…) 

Tune in to ways you can lift someone else’s face.

Forgive. 

Ask.

Care. 

Engage.

Listen.

Identify. 

Free.

Tune. 

Give someone a Face Lift and love them well! 

kw

Squeezed Out of Our Comfort Zones (a lesson on Growth)

We’d found the perfect spot. Out back, behind the chicken coop, a field of Golden Rod and blues skies in front of us with drifts of honeysuckle sweetness floating in from behind. The hot summer day felt several degrees cooler sitting under those trees as we settled in to sip iced tea and read. 

I thought I’d head out there every day, if only for a half hour of solace and solitude. We were four months into this pandemic business with no end in sight and as much as I love my family, I need my alone time. 

Except I’d discovered I wasn’t alone. 

I went around a different way to our newly discovered thoughtful spot only to discover this guy (or girl) had left its skin behind. 

I turned right back around and headed indoors knowing there was no way I could concentrate on trying to read with no knowledge of its whereabouts. And forget closing my eyes for any type of meditation or soaking up of the sun! 

A couple weeks later, my man was shoring up the chicken coop, giving it a chic chick makeover, when he came bounding out as fast as he could scurry. Not much gives me the heebie-jeebies but I found out who wore that skin….

A couple of months later, I read this thought from Margaret Guenther’s book Holy Listening: One of the treasures in my study is the intact skin of a Virginia black snake, shed as part of the process of growth. To grow, indeed, to survive, that snake had to leave behind a part of itself. I have no idea whether the shedding was painful or a relief, but my imagination tells me that it was some of each. 

While I have no desire whatsoever to put that snakeskin in my study, we can learn a lot from this authors observance. And yes, I looked up how and why a snake sheds its skin. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

1. A snake sheds its skin by rubbing up against a rock, tree or other hard surface. It cannot get rid of the old without some friction to help it along. 

We, too, must shed skins and identities by persevering through the painful parts and pieces of life. Paul tells us it’s this suffering that produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us.  (Romans 5:3-5a NIV)

James tells us to consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:1-4 NIV)

I really wish it didn’t take trials of many kinds to help us grow but when I look back on my growth spurts, spiritually and personally speaking, it was because of walking through some hard things.

No friction. No character development. 

No character development. No learning perseverance. 

No perseverance. No faith maturation. 

No maturing faith. No hope. 

No hope. Well…you feel hopeless. 

There is purpose behind the pain of growing.

2. A snake shedding its skin allows for new and further growth. 

We are not the same people on the other side of a hard season. We are wiser, more aware, more compassionate towards others who are going through something similar and even towards those who aren’t because they simply cannot know what they’ve not experienced. 

Those who never go through some tough stuff, stay stuck in their skin-tight selves and never get to experience the joy, heartache, laughter and tears of helping someone who’s transitioning through a hard space. It gives us the maturity and understanding to be able to help others. It gives us a purpose for having suffered ourselves.

All praise to God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. (2Corinthians 1:3-4 NLT)

3. A snake shedding its skin allows for the removal of parasites. 

Ewww…am I right? While we may not have actual parasites, (anyone’s head itching yet?) we do have things we need to remove or let go of because we have simply outgrown them. With the help of some friends, here is a list of just a few possible parasites:  

Relationships                                              Pretending

Habits                                                           Nick-nacks                                                   

Positions                                                      Clutter

Jobs                                                               Having to be perfect

My jeans since COVID 😉                          Saying you’re okay and you’re not               

Guilt trips                                                    Expectations of others

Previous hurts Old routines

Ideals of other people’s roles in our lives

What are some of yours?

4. The snake leaves behind a piece of its old self in order to grow/survive. 

This one is especially bittersweet since there is often nothing wrong with the old self or shed skin; it’s simply not useful to us anymore. I jest about my jeans as something I’ve outgrown (if you’ve never laid down on your bed to zip your jeans, I’m afraid we cannot be friends), but how many of us have clothes in our closets that we keep for someday when…? Those clothes we’ve outgrown? They simply do not fit anymore. 

Spiritually speaking, we hold on to our “parasites” because they are comfortable, familiar and safe. Unfortunately, that very same holding on to stunts our growth and stifles the Spirit. 

Matthew says it this way: Who would patch old clothing with new cloth? For the new patch would shrink and rip away from the old cloth, leaving an even bigger tear than before. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the old skins would burst from the pressure, spilling the wine and running the skins. New wine is stored in new wineskins so that both are preserved. (Matthew 9:16-17NLT)

5. Is the shedding of a snake’s skin painful or a relief? 

I love that Margaret asks this question, to which she answers probably a bit of both. Growth feels like you’re being squeezed out of your own skin. There is pain in the process of the pressing, but the purpose of the process is a promise of perfected faith and perseverance. 

It’s both painful (the process) and a relief (the promise). 

Like the bittersweetness of letting go of an old sweater with its memories and familiarity is to accept growth and change in ourselves as a kind of departure, a leaving behind of the safe and known. It’s both painful to let go and a relief to move forward. Even more painful is trying to shrink yourself down to fit what you once were. I don’t want to be who I was ten, five or one year ago. I want to be a new and improved person, having shed the skin of that which keeps me from being completely me.

If God can use the skin of a snake to teach me such things, what can he do with you and your story? God will use that squeezing, those scars, that pressing down, those questions and desperate prayers for a purpose you can only imagine in your wildest dreams! 

kw

PS I will not be putting a snakes skin in my office…even so. 

You might also enjoy reading:

A Parable of the Peony

Into the Wilderness

Where’s Huldah?

Maybe you’ve sat staring, searching, scanning hoping to be the first to spot Waldo in the sea of people. Isn’t it fun? 

He’s the iconic, elusive man in the red and white striped shirt, pommed hat and round wire rimmed glasses. He was first hidden away in 1987 by British illustrator Martin Handford. He got the idea for “Where’s Waldo” after working as a freelance illustrator where he drew crowd scenes for magazines and companies.  “The art director suggested that he make a character to act as a focal point in his pictures of crowds to encourage people to look at the picture more closely.”

I like the art director’s idea of encouraging people to look closer at the crowds of people, trying to spotlight just one. 

There’s a woman in the Old Testament who gets lost, not in a sea of people but in a crowd of commentators who, at the mention of her name, mostly make excuses as to why she, a woman, was used by God when there were male prophets at the ready. 

Photo courtesy of Macey Philips

When my friend texted me and asked if I’d ever heard of her, I had to admit I had not. Neither had she, a 4-year degreed Bible college graduate, and yet had not once heard of Huldah the prophetess taught in all her classes. 

I asked a male pastor friend if he’d heard of Huldah. Nah. Maybe she didn’t get much press for a reason. (hmmm…?!)

I asked my man if he had heard of Huldah. Is that the lady who made those tops that was so popular in the ‘70s? Um. No. That would be halter. Not Huldah. (He does like to try and fire me up!) 

Who is Huldah? 

Her story can be found in 2Kings 22:14-20 and the parallel in 2Chronicles 34:22-28. Although Huldah appears in only fourteen total verses, much greater significance has been placed on those who occupy far less ink on a page. An extreme example of this is Jabez whose name is found in one verse and yet became a household name in 2000, when The Prayer of Jabez by Bruce Wilkinson sold more than nine million copies as a New York Times best seller. 

So, who is she? And what was her role? 

Huldah was a prophetess who lived in the Second District of Jerusalem. Significant, for their location was thought to be near the king and within the walled city. She was married to Shallum son of Tikvah, the son of Harhus, keeper of the wardrobe. They were thought to be makers and menders of the priestly garments and the royal wardrobe. 

What’s the backstory? 

Josiah had become king when he was eight years old. Ten years pass between 2Kings 22:1 and 3. He was a righteous man who chose to follow in the footsteps of King David instead of the two generations of evil kings that led before him. 

He had the temple repaired and in doing so, the book of the law was discovered. This would be like losing your Bible in a church building and not missing it for years. The book of the law was most likely all five books of Moses. King Josiah has the book read aloud to him (most scholars believe it was from Deuteronomy.)

Chapters 4-13 would convict this righteous king about the wicked things the nation had already done. 

Chapters 14-18 would greatly disturb him about what the people had not done. 

Chapters 27-30 would spell out what God would do if the nation did not repent of their sins of both commission and omission. 

Josiah was so deeply torn by the state of his country that he tore his robes and ordered the high priest and several officers to ask the Lord about Judah’s spiritual condition. 

Who Ya Gonna Call? 

At the time there were two well-known prophets in the land, Jeremiah and Zephaniah who was a relative of Josiah. Neither of them were called upon to answer the King’s inquiry. 

Scripture tells us Josiah gave these orders to a committee of royal officials, go and inquire of the Lord for me and for the people and for all Judah about what is written in this book that has been found. Great is the Lord’s anger that burns against us because our fathers have not obeyed the words of this book; they have not acted in accordance with all that is written there concerning us. (2Kings 22:12-13NIV) 

This royal committee shows up on the doorstep of our girl Huldah the prophetess. There are only a handful of other women who have this same title: Miriam (Exodus 15:20), Deborah (Judges 4:4), Naodiah (Nehemiah 6:14), the wife of Isaiah the prophet (Isaiah 8:3), Anna (Luke 2:36) and the four daughters of Philip the evangelist (Acts 21:8-9). 

The committee of men going to Huldah’s house is significant in the fact that lower ranking people were sent for by a messenger and brought before the committee or even the king. Instead, these royal officials, sought her out, at her house, to get the message to take back to the king. By this we know she was well regarded by King Josiah. 

The Message

Part one of her message: She said to them, “This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: Tell the man who sent you to me, ‘This is what the Lord says: I am going to bring disaster on the place and its people, according to everything written in the book the king of Judah has read. Because they have forsaken me and burned incense to other gods and provoked me to anger by all the idols their hands have made, my anger will burn against this place and will not be quenched.’” (2Kings 22:15-17NIV)

Huldah has some hutzpah here. She is not fazed by the fact that she is speaking a message to the king. In fact, in the first part of her message she doesn’t even address him as such, calling him, the man who sent you to me. Her job was to relay the message of the Lord, not coddle the receiver of said message. 

Part two of her message: Tell the king of Judah, who sent you to inquire of the Lord, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says concerning the words you have heard: Because your heart was responsive and you humbled yourself before the Lord when you heard what I have spoken against this place and its people, that they would become accursed and laid waste, and because you tore your robes and wept in my presence, I have heard you, declares the Lord. Therefore, I will gather you to your fathers, and you will be buried in peace. Your eyes will not see the disaster I am going to bring on this place. 

So they took her answer back to the king. (2Kings 22:18-20NIV)

The nation would feel the full cup of God’s wrath, but Josiah would be spared because of his humility and desire to serve the Lord. Huldah doesn’t mince words. She isn’t starry eyed, faint of heart or weak in her delivery. 

In fact, the royal officials take this message back to King Josiah who calls the elders, priests and prophets together and gets the ship turned around. Josiah renews the covenant with the Lord. He cleans up the temple, tears down the shrines, ousts the priests who were up to no good, destroyed altars to idols, and reimplemented the celebration of the feasts. 

Josiah asked Huldah. Huldah answered. Josiah listened. He didn’t delay or seek a second opinion or dismiss the words of a woman.  

Antiquated Answers

As I read through the chapter on Huldah written by Christa L. McKirland, ThM from the book Vindicating the Vixens, imagine my surprise at the rationale of some of the early Christian writers: 

~ One “remarks that God uses women, and Huldah in particular, since ‘it is the rule of Scripture when holy men fail, to praise women to the reproach of men.’” (fourth-century theologian Jerome) (pg 224)

So God can only use women in key roles to shame men? 

Then radio silence on any mention of Huldah…for more than a millennium. 

~ John Calvin pairs together Huldah with Deborah, agreeing with Jerome that God wished to raise them on high to shame the men and obliquely show them their slothfulness. Whatever may be the reason, women have sometimes enjoyed the prophetic gift. (pg. 224)

I’m sure you’re right Mr. Calvin, because women love to give messages of doom and gloom. And only when the men are lazy and don’t feel like messing with being a messenger. 

I can’t help but wonder if these men thought Jeremiah and Zephaniah needed shaming? And if so, why? The fact that they want to add to the story, creating a reasoning that simply isn’t there, tells more about them than it does about the men in Huldah’s day. 

~ Matthew Henry wanted to give all the props to the fact that Huldah was a wife who was speaking under her husband’s authority, revealing his need to justify God’s using a woman. Never mind that her title of prophetess came before her name and the revelation that she was married was listed after. (pg. 224-225)

~ John Wesley suggests that Jeremiah is in some remote part of the kingdom and Zephaniah might not be a prophet at the time of Josiah’s inquiry. Wesley goes beyond the text trying to justify how this can be…God using a woman to speak a message to the king. (pg. 225)

Yep. Because God would have no idea if Jeremiah would be vacationing at the same time Josiah needed a word. Obviously God’s timing on delivering the message was poor…he had to use a woman to do it. 

What about a more modern-day preacher? Surely he would talk more about the message given rather than the messenger giving it. 

~ John McArthur says this, Huldah. This prophetess is otherwise unknown in the OT. She was held in some regard for her prophetic gift, though why she was consulted and not another prophet like Jeremiah or Zephaniah is unexplained. Rarely did God speak to the nation through a woman and never did a woman  have an ongoing prophetic ministry identified in Scripture. No woman was inspired to author any of Scripture’s sixty-six books. (The MacArthur Bible Commentary)

Thanks John. Maybe you think, like you did with Beth Moore, Huldah should have stayed home too? (See what I wrote to Dear Jane when this incident occurred.)

Could it simply be there was no explanation needed? Could it be Josiah preferred to use Huldah as his prophetess. Why does there need to be such speculation? Why can’t we be thankful that Huldah used the gifts God gave her when called upon to do so? 

At the end of the day, does the “why” matter more than the “what”? Is it more important to try and figure out why God would use a woman to deliver the message or the message itself? 

Hunches and hypothesis beyond the text about Jeremiah and Zephaniahs shame or absence or whatever, is futile and distracts from the message. The priests went to speak to the prophetess Huldah (period). If God didn’t see the need to explain why, maybe we shouldn’t make up excuses and just let it be as it is. 

We can exemplify and acknowledge the uniqueness of a female prophet, especially in a male dominant culture, without diminishing the validity of Huldah’s gifts. Ditto for the women of today!

Modern Day Huldah’s

What can we learn from this oft forgotten woman of the Old Testament?

  • Huldah was ready when called upon. They needed a message from the Lord and she delivered. She didn’t ask “why me” or where the other prophets were, she simply did what she was gifted to do. Are you prepared, in season and out, to give a message, to share a word, to teach, rebuke, admonish or offer hope when asked to do so? 
  • Huldah didn’t worry about who her audience was, she was obedient in using her gifts of prophecy no matter the sex, title or status of the receiver of the message. We have a responsibility to use our gifts regardless of our or anyone else’s sex, title, degree, status or station in life. 
  • Huldah was a willing vessel for being used by God. I’m sure, given the status of women in Huldah’s culture it wasn’t easy being a prophetess. It was, in fact, a male dominant space. But she did it….with no apologies. We live in a culture that has turtle crawled toward recognizing women in leadership roles in the male dominant church. Are we willing to keep using our gifts and talents? Are we willing to keep having conversations? 

What a fantastic role model Huldah is for us! Now when someone says, Where’s Huldah?  you’ll be able to find her right away and share the story of how God used this woman to bring a message to the king and help turn a nation back to Himself. 

kw

If you enjoyed this post, you may enjoy these:

The Grit and Grace of Grandma’s