Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 36

Older Women Should Speak Truth to the Next Generation

Dear Women of the Next Generation,

You would think that in times when women across the globe march in expansive displays of gender solidarity, that you could trust the words of older women. I’m sorry to say, you cannot trust them all.

To be fair, some older women were fed lies by the women in their lives. We know truth is the first casualty of war and both spiritual and cultural battles rage.

But sometimes, it’s more insidious than that. Sometimes, it’s about hidden agendas that have nothing to do with what’s right or good for you.

You see, women are equal to men in every way, including our capacity for subterfuge. Female moral superiority is one of the myths stirred into your rice cereal. Women aren’t inherently more noble, wise, or selfless than men, and we betray the sons we birth to perpetuate that distortion.

So, first, let me say, don’t believe everything you hear shouted from a megaphone on the National Mall.

In full disclosure, I write as a woman following Jesus, a woman who believes in the authority of the Bible. Feel free to dismiss my perspective based on that information alone, but if you’re as inclusive of all women as you say, you’ll hear me out.

I also write as a person who has walked this planet for over fifty years negotiating all the same joys, temptations, and dangers of being female as you. My perspective is as valid as those who disagree with me, by basis of my DNA.

Still here? You’re such a brave generation. Let’s talk about words.

Freedom and choice are beautiful words, but they’ve been misappropriated and attached to acts that have little to do with their definition.

Many women believe in freedom, but don’t believe abortion is the path to any kind of lasting freedom – not for anyone involved.

Many women believe in choices, but also believe there just isn’t enough dialog about the responsibility of those choices.

People make dozens of choices prior to the conception of a child, with varying levels of freedom attached to each one. True, some women have those choices taken from them, violently, but many do not. A nuanced discussion of abortion includes all these choices, but there isn’t sufficient airtime carved out for nuance these days.

Abortion is a complex conversation and not one that can be carried on intelligently by screaming across picket lines or making pronouncements over Twitter feed. Women are brilliant, creative, intelligent beings who shouldn’t reduce themselves to bumper sticker versions of their greater selves.

The future of our unborn children is too significant to be distilled to a slogan on a sidewalk sign.

Coercion, pressure, and power are also words associated with abortion. Who gives voice to the powerless women in this equation? Abortion isn’t always a straight out choice. Often, it’s a weapon used against oppressed women by people victimizing them.

Let’s talk about the girls and women pressured into abortions by others wanting to cover up the violations of predatory men. Or pressured by families wanting to preserve their own reputations. Pressured by traffickers wanting to protect their profits. Pressured by uncaring partners who aren’t ready for children. Pressured by partners and in-laws who want only a healthy child or male child.

Once, I sat in a room with a grieving girl. One week prior, she’d been nearly five months along with a wanted child. Now, she wept at a loss she chose. But, as she explained, she only chose abortion because she believed others in her life thought she wouldn’t be a good mother and for one moment, she’d believed them.

Now, she wondered if maybe they were wrong. Her mother was a harsh woman of hard words and her partner used verbal abuse to control. Who were they to convince her she would fail the life within her?

It was so easy to walk into a clinic and make a choice under the foggy burden of their accusations. No one devoted any time to explore her choice with her. Does she sound free? There is an abundance of unpleasant words associated with abortion you won’t see on a T-shirt. Loneliness, selfishness, exploitation, greed, sorrow, regret, anguish, gendercide, and conspiracy.

The abortion industry essentially joins forces with coercion, sex-selection, and aborting for certain conditions by forcing conversations about these practices into the shadows.  It’s harder to cloak their business in the lovely garb of freedom and rights if it gets bogged down in a complex discussion of this underbelly that is decidedly NOT pro-woman.

It’s tragic and true that women died in back rooms when abortion wasn’t legal. But, women are still dying. More un-born females are aborted, world-wide, than un-born males. Wide-spread abortion doesn’t save women’s lives, it kills them earlier, more efficiently, and antiseptically so as to have a more socially acceptable tenor.

There is an evil that wants to destroy women. By endorsing abortion, we become complicit in our own destruction.

You are part of a strong-minded, intelligent generation with a world of information at your fingertips. Don’t be caught up in the waves of screaming rhetoric without engaging a global perspective on this life-and-death conversation.

Take time to sort through the conversations. Understand there are women who choose life. Women who don’t fear the babies that grow within us. Women who are for all women, not just the ones who survive our wombs. Women who have wrestled with the risks, choices, and consequences, but who have chosen life over death for the sake of the next generation.

Abortion IS a woman’s issue and there are women on BOTH sides of the table. You have the freedom to choose where you sit and still find yourself on the side of women. Be the generation that invites all the voices to the table.

Older Women Should Speak Truth to the Next Generation https://t.co/Ef6adHL9t7 including the truth about #abortionright #chooselife #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 28, 2017

When God’s People Get Tired of “the Poor”

The woman was tired. I get that. I’ve been that tired.

I arrived at the church office incognito. Not really, but I introduced myself in my role as a facilitator of my day job with a community agency, not as a fellow Christian. The church has programs to help the poor in their area, and I had one of them with me (one of the poor, I mean), waiting on the sidewalk, too nervous to come into the office herself “lest lightning strike.”

Smiling, I stated the reason for our visit was to introduce the woman to the needs ministry at the church and to inquire about the hours they met with new people. The woman behind the counter frowned and sighed. “Frankly, we’re tired of you agency people thinking the church is the answer for every poor person within a twenty-mile radius. Don’t you have any other answers for her?”

I inhaled deeply. This is the new strategy I’m employing to process intense stress.

I waved at my anxious client peeking in the window. I hoped I appeared relaxed. I gave her the signal that it would be just another minute. Then I turned back to my weary sister in Christ, as I texted my boss that for the next 15 minutes, I was officially taking myself “off the clock.”

“Hi,” I said to the woman. “What’s your name? Mine is Lori. I’m going to take a moment to step out of my role as someone employed to help families. For the next couple of minutes, I’m just going to be another Christian who loves Jesus. I hope that’s all right with you.”

She looked wary, but nodded.

“I imagine you’re having a really stressful day. And, because Jesus loves you, I’m standing here, and not someone He’s trying to reach with the gospel. Not one of my colleagues, many of whom are extremely cynical about engaging with the faith community for support. Not my client who truly has no other place to turn, so she’s willing to turn to Jesus, even though she thinks He probably hates her. Not my client who has run through every government program available, and still has hungry, needy children. Not my client who I had hoped would not only receive some support here, but also feel loved by God today.”

The woman drooped a little. “I’m so sorry. I’m recovering from news of tragedy with one of our members, and I’m not handling it well.”

That’s the moment I thanked Jesus for reminding me to show her as much mercy as I wanted her to show my poor client – as much as He shows me. He has shown us that anger is often the hasty armor we toss on over hurt or battle fatigue. While impervious to equal anger, it often has no defense against a soft word.

“That’s awful and I’m so sorry for that news. Let’s talk for a moment and let you catch your breath. I imagine you do feel dumped on sometimes. This ministry is relentless. I bet, though, that most days, you agree that when family, government, and the rest of the world abandon someone, Jesus wants to be the One still there for them. That’s why I’m here with my client and why others turn to you, too. I’m sorry we aren’t expressing appreciation for all you do.”

She laughed. “Thank you for understanding. I’m sorry for my short words. Maybe you could bring your client in now. I believe I’m ready to care for her.”

We all grow weary. All of us, except Jesus. There have been days I needed someone to have this same chat with me. Our Heavenly Father “neither slumbers nor sleeps.” He has infinite resources, patience, and stamina when seeking His lost sheep, but His sheep run out of steam sometimes.

And lately we beat one another up over social media. One group chastising Christians with one political stance because they believe that stance will hurt the poor. Another group chastising THAT group as irresponsible stewards because of THEIR political stand.

Craziness. How easily we stumble into the snare set for us by our enemy!

It is our responsibility, as disciples of Jesus, to care for the poor. Absolutely. But, many of us have learned that “the poor” are not all alike. “The poor” take different roads to poverty and, make no mistake, there are as many different types of “poor” as there are different types of people. There are also different approaches to working with the poor, any number of which, can reflect Jesus.

Some believers are called to advocate for government programs or systems that are just and provide care for those who are in need. Others are called to work face-to-face with poor in other countries. Others called to be hands-on and personal with the poor in the next neighborhood. Some are called simply to provide resources for the work.

None of us is called to name-calling and publicly bashing one another. That’s just shameful. If we disagree with one another, there are biblical ways to work through those differences and there’s no caveat for abandoning those processes on social media or during news interviews.

Caring for the poor is a work that is as much for those who do it as it is for the poor. It reveals us. It instructs us. It humbles us. It’s not as much about solving the problem of poverty as it is about being in an impossible situation alongside another human the way Jesus is here with us.

It can create in us deeper compassion and greater wisdom. It can show us the power of Jesus’ ministry of mercy. It often brings us to the brink of our limitations, precisely so we can witness the miracle of Jesus’ limitless availability to us all.

But, it can also break our hearts, wear us down, and make us vulnerable to division if we’re not on guard against our enemy’s schemes.

Before we speak, judge, call names, label, tweet, email, blog, debate, rebut, or update our status, let’s inhale the aroma of Christ and exhale our personal agendas for the sake of unity. Let’s remember we all grow weary. Have limits. Stumble.

Let’s remember we all have a part of an impossible job – to care for the poor who will always be with us. And let’s consider that our words to one another carry power to tear down or to build up.

Let’s build.

When God’s People Get Tired of “the Poor” https://t.co/bFaL6g4Y75 How can we stop fighting with one another? #poverty #Jesus #Christian

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 25, 2017

One Thing We’re All Doing Wrong – and How to Stop It

If someone was trying to kill me, I’d be tempted to lose focus on other people. Just sayin.’

Not Jesus. I don’t know how kosher it is to say how much I admire Him, but I do. I love Him as Savior, but every time I read the gospels I also grow in admiration, respect, and awe for how He conducted Himself in our midst.

Today, I read John 12 several times and listened to it once on the CD in my car. The time of Jesus’ death is drawing near, and He’s surrounded by people plotting His destruction. He STILL does not allow THEM to set His agenda. He STILL keeps His eye on the work His Father assigned to Him. He still spends more time focusing on those who listen and obey than on those who oppose Him.

We need to model that in these times.

God is endlessly creative, but our enemy is not. He repeats the same old tactics from age to age.

Distract, disrupt, divide. Distract, disrupt, divide. You can see the number of times He tried it on Jesus.

Distract Him from His work by trying to engage Him in meaningless debates or in fretting about the opposition. Disrupt beautiful moments of devotion like Mary anointing Him with oil. Try to divide Him from His Father in the temptation or from His followers.

Jesus doesn’t bite. He calmly calls the enemy out each time either with a word of scripture, a question, or a flat statement regarding their motives, and then He returns to the work or restates His purpose here.

This time of year, leading up to Easter, I find it beneficial to read John chapter 7 to the end. Jesus is fascinating in these chapters and states clearly that He knows many of His listeners oppose Him and even plot His death.

But, He preaches. He states the truth clearly. He sets the agenda for conversations. He ministers. He leads. He loves those who draw near.

How desperately we need this mindset (soul-set, really) in these times! How weary we all are of chicken-little Christians squawking non-stop about the demise of the faith, the size and scope of the enemy, and the multitude of those who oppose God’s work in the world through us!

Somedays, it’s as if the church sent out twelve spies into our times and the ten who were daunted bound and gagged the two who spoke words of confidence and faith.

Our times are full of sadness, strife, contention, and rebellion. There are many who choose deception over truth.

STILL, God will prevail and those who follow Him must pay more attention to Him than to the enemy. We must not be distracted from the work by engaging in the agenda the opposition sets. We must be more focused on those who draw near to Christ, than on those hurling stones or planning our demise.

We must not fret. (We would all benefit – and sleep better – if we memorized Psalm 37.)

Jesus was surrounded by opposition. He knew full well that even those close to Him would soon fall away. In their foolishness, the plotters even considered killing off Lazarus after Jesus raised Him from the dead! Jesus knew what had happened to his cousin, John, and He knew God’s way for Him lead through death.

STILL, He paid more attention to His Father and to those who responded to His message than to those trying to stand in His way.

As a church, we spin ourselves into a frenzy, wasting precious energy focused on the enemy’s agenda and on addressing the opposition. It’s too often a fool’s errand as Jesus explained when He characterized this generation in Matthew 17:16-19

“But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to their playmates, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds.”

The wise person walks through this world the way Jesus did. We know where we came from and we know where we’re going. Most importantly, we know whose we are. As Jesus paid attention to His Father, so we pay attention to Him.

We speak the truth. We act in love. We do the work of our Father and we trust Him with our lives, our future, the perpetuation of His church. Don’t take the bait, loved ones.

I don’t know about you, but I desperately need a “reset of the soul.” I’ve done a lot of spinning lately, and I’ve taken my eyes off Jesus because my ears have been full of the opposition.

I’m going to spend the weeks leading up to Easter reading John 7 to the end, and then rereading it. I’m going to ask Jesus to reset my soul. I’m going to re-invite Him to set my agenda and let the cries of the angry mob fade away, so His words have room to work on my heart and mind.

Anyone want to come along?

If you’re weary and discouraged, you’ll find encouragement (and maybe a kick in the spiritual pants) along with biblical truth and humor in Running from a Crazy Man (and other adventures traveling with Jesus). It’s only $1.99 on Kindle right now and just $7.95 in paperback. Let me encourage you and help you catch your breath. I’ve been there myself. I know what you need.

One thing we’re all doing wrong – and how to stop! https://t.co/KVgy0oza93 #persecution #Jesus #Lent2017

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 23, 2017

Is It Bad to Be an Emotional Christian?

There are people who believe there is a flaw in God’s design. I was once one of them.

I remember the first time a spiritual leader accused me of being emotional. I was a teen so, in his defense, it wasn’t a huge leap. Also, I was crying and distraught when I arrived in his office with questions of a theological nature.

What had moved me to tears? It was the week leading up to Easter and I’d been considering what Jesus endured in the final week of his life.

Betrayal. Arrest. Abandonment by His followers – His friends. Rigged trials. Humiliation. Beatings. Rejection by His own people. Flogging nearly to death. The long walk to Calvary. Crucifixion. This was the Jesus I’d loved since I was a child and as I considered all He’d endured to pay the price for my sins, it moved me to tears.

I’d gone to this leader with questions about Judas, and whether he’d repented and been forgiven or was condemned. I think I was also wondering for the first time about the heroes of the Old Testament and the state of their souls since they died before Jesus’ sacrifice (It was as if contemplating passion week had awakened in me a concern for all souls, living and dead.)

Eventually, I learned the answers to those questions, but it wasn’t on that day. I remember clearly that the only answer this leader had for me then was – “Come back when you aren’t so emotional.”

As I teenage girl, I’d certainly been charged with that before, but this was the first time it came from a spiritual leader. I was confused – especially since my repellant state had come about through my obedience to his instructions that we should spend the week considering Christ’s sacrifice for us. And, while I was crying, it was my mind that sought answers. I didn’t come asking for tissues and hugs.

This was a word I would continue to hear into adulthood from others within the Body of Christ. “Let’s not be ruled by emotions, now.” Or “That sounds like an emotional response to a need rather than a rational one.” Or “We need someone in charge of this ministry who doesn’t get emotional.”

It was such a theme that without realizing it, I came to believe the lie that Jesus was capable of redeeming all of me EXCEPT my emotions. Some flaw in His design of humans made emotions such a danger that even once we were following Him, they must be considered suspect at all times.

Now, the mind, the mind was entirely worthy of redemption, it seemed. The mind, in fact, was always to be trusted, almost immediately following conversion, and to do all the heavy-lifting thereafter. So, I set about to develop my mind and stuff my emotions – a path that nearly destroyed me until Jesus taught me (through my mind) the truth – which He did with a few simple verses.

It started with Psalm 37:4 – “Delight yourself in the Lord; and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Why would He ever do that, I wondered? Isn’t my heart suspect?

Then, I read these words in Jeremiah 24:7 – “I will give them a heart to know Me, for I am the Lord; and they will be My people, and I will be their God, for they will return to Me with their whole heart.” And these in Ezekiel 36:26 – “Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.”

So, God gives me a new heart – and not one that is cold as stone, but one that beats and bleeds like a heart of flesh. This, to me, was a revelation, but one that also made complete sense! Didn’t God design us with emotions? Aren’t they wonderful as a means to connect with Him and with others, as signs when things are awry, and as motivators to do what is right and avoid what is wrong?

And is Jesus’ sacrifice and power so limited as not to redeem my emotional life, too? No, His redemptive power is complete and includes my heart, mind, soul, and strength. And as it turns out, the mind isn’t so exempt from the need for continuous sanctification as we learn in Romans 12:2 that it can be polluted by the world and needs to be transformed.

This gradual revelation of the truth set me on a pathway of actually managing my emotions for the first time because, rather than try to hide them or dismiss them, I was owning up to them and discussing them with Jesus. My emotional life emerged from the darkness into His light and began to work in conjunction with my mind rather than quietly sabotaging it from the shadows. And my mind began to function with greater clarity because I realized thoughts can be as suspect as emotions if they aren’t taken captive to Christ as Paul cautions us to do in 2 Corinthians 10:5.

Jesus helped me, too, to see that God expresses emotions throughout the Bible. I think that, originally, I saw Him like these aliens I once saw in an episode of Star Trek who were just these giant brains. In getting to know Jesus, I met someone not ruled by either his mind or his emotions, but by His Father. I’ve since learned the truth of Colossians 1:17b that in Christ, “all things hold together.”

Our minds, bodies, and emotions are all gifts from a loving Father, that in the process of redemption and sanctification grow to function together in a way that is a marvel to behold.

I have no shame now, in saying, at times I am emotional – especially when I consider the sacrifice of Christ, the One I love, on my behalf. Are you sometimes emotional? Well, bless your heart, because God has made it new.

Are you facing hard times and unexpected trouble? Are you gasping for breath beside the narrow road? This book knows where you are and how to get you through. Running from a Crazy Man (and other adventures traveling with Jesus) will sit beside you and help you start walking again.

Is it Bad to Be an Emotional Christian? https://t.co/I3JrB3v1sc is there a purpose to what we feel? #Jesus #Christian #emotional

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 20, 2017

The Best Way to Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day

“Before I was humiliated I was like a stone that lies in deep mud, and he who is mighty came
and in his compassion raised me up and exalted me very high and placed me on the top of the wall.” – St. Patrick

To celebrate St. Patrick is to celebrate the power of the One True God who continues to work in those of us stones that lie in modern mud.

Irish raiders stole Patrick from his family, enslaving him for six years until he escaped back to his family in Britain.  After entering the church, Patrick returned to Ireland – to the people who had held him in slavery  – serving them as a missionary and spreading the truth of Jesus Christ.

Today, before you don the green, cook up the corned beef, or raise a pint, consider those who have committed wrongs against you – those who perhaps held your spirit captive  – and choose, like St. Patrick, to forgive them, even to reach out to them, serve them, in the power of the name of Jesus Christ.

People harmed many of us in our youth. Like St. Patrick who was taken captive or Joseph, the dreamer, sold by his brothers into slavery,
we experienced harm and a certain type of bondage that interrupted our direct track to growing as we thought we should. St. Patrick and Joseph both found the power of God to be stronger than the power of those who had done them wrong.

They overcame through the spirit of Jesus Christ and not only broke free but forgave those who wronged them. Rather than being crippled by their captors, they translated their experiences into the language of God’s love and wove it into a greater story. 

To celebrate St. Patrick’s Day is to celebrate a kind of freedom that many still have not experienced. The freedom to forgive those who have harmed us and to live our lives defined – not by them – but by our devotion to the truth and to Jesus Christ.

It isn’t an easy path. But it is possible path. Jesus. Jesus is the Way. 

Ask Patrick. He found the road. Happy St. Patrick’s Day. A celebration of those, freed by Christ, who spent their freedom serving others.

You long to be effective in your faith. You want to slay the giants in your life. You’ll want to read this book. Jesus and the Beanstalk (Overcoming Your Giants and Living a Fruitful Life).

The Best Way to Celebrate St Patrick’s Day https://t.co/wMEqZO3vdk #StPatricksDay #StPatrick #StPaddysDay

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 17, 2017

The Secret Fear Many of You are Tired of Hiding

Many of you harbor a secret fear. I know, because I harbor it, too. This fear keeps us silent when we would speak. It holds us back from a more verbal witness of our faith, a firmer explanation of our beliefs about people’s sinful behavior, or approaching a sensitive topic with loved ones.

The fear stifles our voices, muzzles our testimonies, and leaves us feeling less than authentic during public (and often private) conversations. We desperately want to overcome this fear for many reasons, but mostly because of love.

Touchy subjects come up in conversation at school, work, family events, church meetings, over coffee with friends, or on social media. Our immediate reflex is to retreat. We’re like conversational turtles.

We know what the Bible teaches. We know Jesus cares that everyone knows the truth. We feel Him nudge us, prod us to weigh in, to represent Him; but we hang back because of this secret fear.

When people speculate about our silence, they suppose we fear what people think of us. But, that’s not really it – well, not all of it. We love Jesus. We want to speak up on His behalf. We mostly want that more than we care what people think of us.

But, what if?

What if rather than represent Jesus, we bungle the whole thing? What if what comes out of our mouths drives people away from Him, incites their scoffing, or reinforces false stereotypes? What if we embarrass other Christians with our lame phrases or an inadequate defense of our faith? What if we just plain get our facts wrong and make statements we can’t back up, confirming their thinking that Christians don’t know what they’re talking about?

What if our inept words create dissension within the Body of Christ or cause serious hurt to another believer? What if we drive our loved one away from us?

Like Jericho’s wall, our what if’s pile on, one atop the other, until we’re trapped on the other side of our intentions, feeling small and silent. It’s that wall of what if’s that looms between us and stepping into conversational freedom. It becomes a kind of stronghold.

Our secret fear is that we’ll bumble conversations and blemish God’s greatness rather than confirm it.

We understand how important these conversations are. We’ve heard people say just one bad comment from a Christian turned them off to Jesus. Or one uncomfortable confrontation with a fellow Christian crippled them in their walk with Christ. How terrifying! Like those bad dreams where we try to scream but no sounds come out.

Our awareness of the stakes tethers us to our silence.

Who are we to speak for Jesus? Who are we to confront a brother or sister? Better to hang back long enough for the conversation to take a turn. Let our lives do the talking. Isn’t that what matters anyway?

So, we comfort ourselves with the knowledge that there are plenty of other people addressing these hard subjects. Smart people. People with gifts. God’s thinkers. Conversational hawks.

We read their books, follow their blogs, and quote them in our Twitter feeds. Here you go; we tell ourselves. This is how we’ll participate. Stammering Moses is our poster child. Speak-easy Aaron’s abound. Maybe we’re off the hook! We buy books for loved ones. Post persuasive links to our social media. Forward articles to our friends through email. This dulls us to the nudge sometimes but, never for long.

Jesus persists with His people. He persists, you see, because there are always those conversations that happen when none of these really, smart Christians are around.

Even if they were, they don’t know this person sitting across from us or posting to our wall. Not like we do. These writers speak their piece, but they can’t engage with the person asking us the hard questions, or wrestling with a sin issue, or a serious life challenge. They aren’t the one seeing this person’s face, aware of their confusion, anger, or angst.

We not only know this person’s current crisis, we know their back story. Our understanding might provide the perfect framework for a unique response, if we only dared speak.

These amazing Christian writers on which we’ve relied are like road maps – they provide an overview and a guide for directions. While road maps are useful, we can be a GPS (global positioning system), personally guiding an individual to truth by starting exactly where they are and being available to help them recalculate any wrong turn they make.

When our hesitation overrides God ’s invitation, we opt out of opportunities to shadow our Father in His work.

Times aren’t likely to get easier and subjects are only bound to get touchier. So, what has to change is us – our mindset, our willingness to yoke with Jesus, to show up where He wants to be, to open our mouths and let words come out. Better a bumbler in the act of obedience than a master at the art of hesitation.

So, let us adopt a Turtle Manifesto:

Perfect love casts out fear, so we will establish our courage on the love of Jesus.

Jesus topples strongholds. So, we will believe He has the answer to our what if walls. The walls of Jericho fell, so can ours, as we walk in obedience and shout His name to our own fears.

We’ll trust that He leads us into situations and conversations knowing full well our limitations but He never leaves us alone.

We’ll pay attention. Ask questions. Listen to the Holy Spirit. Refuse to retreat into our turtle shells and slowly, lovingly speak the truth.

The stakes will no longer intimidate us, they will motivate us.

We may be turtles when it comes to talking, but God has spoken through donkeys, so He can speak through us, too.

We were designed for these times. Let’s live to the full potential of our calling in Christ.

**If you’re interested in learning some tips and strategies for engaging in hard conversations, I’d love to have you join my focus group on Facebook. Find it by clicking here. If you’re not on Facebook, you can join my email list for tips and strategies for hard conversations by emailing me at lorisroel@gmail.com. Put “Hard Conversation Tips and Strategies” in the subject line.

The Secret Fear Many of You are Tired of Hiding https://t.co/thF5DSlSpi #Jesus #Christian #sayhardthings Are you a conversational turtle?

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 14, 2017

Christians Sentenced to Death – What Difference Does It Make to Us?

**Warning: This post may make you feel bad. ***Warning: That feeling may be appropriate.

There are moments in life that feel like a swift slap in the face.

No one courts that. No one wants to feel that pain. But, if it’s a slap that rearranges your priorities to align with God’s heart, then you will thank God even for that bracing offense.

I received that slap in 2014 when I read a report that Kim Jong-un had ordered the execution of thirty-three Christians reported to have been planting over 500 underground churches in North Korea. I receive the same slap when I read of the struggles of Syrian, Nigerian, Pakistani, Chinese, and Indian believers. Many struggle to literally hold onto life because they’ve chosen to follow Jesus.

I imagined thirty-three of my Christian friends executed for leading people to Christ, facilitating worship, praying, or offering praise to God. I would be horrified, sad, and angry – devastated – but I would also trust that God has the last word on their lives not Kim Jong-un or the evil power behind him.

Still, I would want their deaths to motivate the church of Christ.

I would want their deaths to galvanize other believers to put feet to their own faith, to fuel their passion for Christ, to remember to pray for those who suffer, to spread God’s word with more zeal, persistence, and creativity than ever before.

While we in the West argue over worship styles, sleep in when there’s a visiting preacher, bemoan having to endure a boring prayer request or off-key soloist, serve up the pastor’s sermon over lunch, or sit home and judge the church unworthy of our attendance altogether, there are Christians suffering to the point of death.

There are other brothers and sisters gasping their way to every precious moment when they can gather in hiding, with other precious believers, and hear a whispered message from God, bathe in the reading of His word, and pray with passion and tears for strength to endure – for courage to continue speaking the truth under threat of death.

God placed us all where we are. He assigned us to our stations. There is no guilt in being born in the land of the free as opposed to a country under harsh rule.

But there is guilt if we use our freedom to indulge our petty preferences, to pad our comfort, to drift through this dark world basking in our own light rather than using it to serve those who waste away in prison cells wondering if they’ve been forgotten.

Or to minister to their families left to struggle alone with hunger, fear, and loneliness. Or to strengthen those serving the Lord in dark, dark places who need our prayers for their protection, deliverance, courage, and strength.

This blog is just a bunch of words. It costs me absolutely nothing to write. I’m free here to say whatever I want without fear that it will cost me or my loved ones their lives.

But the words we speak on our knees have the power to move forces in the heavenly realm.

Our prayers have the power to make a difference for those who know the names and faces of those facing execution. Our prayers move forces that will comfort those who know the martyrs – their touch, their dreams, the plans they had for this life that will end any minute now. Our prayers can work to strengthen those who pick up the bloody batons these who fall will be forced to release and continue to build the kingdom of Christ in lands where the enemy of God rules.

Worship has been different for me since this news in 2014. The report of thirty-three gunshots bouncing around the inner chamber of my soul, as well as the thought of the tears of those who loved others who have died by sword, fire, or beating, remind me that we aren’t home yet. The war wages on and I have a part.

When I face these loved ones in glory, I want to tell them their lives were not forgotten. Their sacrifices fortified, galvanized, energized those of us who live in freedom. Their suffering inspired us to worship, pray, serve, and speak out twice – once for ourselves and once for them.

I want to say I used my freedom to secure what comfort I could for them through prayer and through the witness of my words. That every time I was tempted to spiritual apathy, to complaining, or to fearful restraint, remembering them emboldened me and deepened my commitment to a life of gratitude and sacrifice in the name of Jesus.

Because of Jesus, even oppressed, beaten, locked away, silenced, imprisoned, or slaughtered, their lives furthered the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Even in the dark, their lives shined bright enough to be seen in the West, like stars whose light travels even after they’re gone.

The enemy does not have the last word. Jesus is the Word – first, last, and always. You can have all this world, but give me Jesus.

**It’s been three years since I posted the first version of this. How many more Christians have died in that time? Persecution has escalated and many trying to flee are facing barriers to freedom on every side. We need to intercede in prayer, speak out whenever we have opportunity to give their suffering a voice, and support ministries making efforts to reach them with aid, comfort, and escape to freedom.

Christians Sentenced to Death – What Difference Does it Make to Us? https://t.co/94JDfHaNma#persecutedchurch#Jesus#Christian

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 10, 2017

The Power of Ugly Women

Women are powerful creatures.

With a glance, we can raise a man’s hopes
or wither his self-esteem

often leaving me to wonder why
burka-enforcing men think it safe
to leave a window
for the laser-beam of a woman’s eyes.
Women are a force.

Beautiful women use this force
to create life
(childbirth being only one avenue for this birthing)

It also emerges through our art, our work, our words, our ways

our home building, business-building, fund-raising, consciousness raising,

our organizing and administrating,
our generosity, our curiosity,
our peacemaking and our cake baking,

our wound-binding and our child-minding,
our passion released and our voices unleashed,

our coming, our going, our telling, our showing,
our hips, our lips, our trips, and even our slips can be used to create life

for the beautiful woman is a force

and the power fueling her is
none other than the laminin of the universe,
Jesus Christ
through whom her magnificence is focused like a beam of light
made brilliant and surgical and magical and luminous through
the lens of His broken risen body.

Ugly women are forces as well.

Destructive, soul-sucking, heart-crushing,
mistresses of death

and deception

who supplant men’s dreams
with starless wormholes
leading to relentless caverns of insatiable want
and ravenous, greedy demanding dens of darkness and endless gloom.

Here’s the tricky part: ugly women appropriate beauty
as a clever disguise
while beautiful women may be hidden
beneath a surface with small initial appeal

so one has to search

with diligence,
and the lazy heart is likely
to be ensnared by a Medusa
before realizing his mistake.

Like King Herod.

Enraptured by the beautiful mask
artfully worn by his brother’s ugly wife

he allowed his smaller self
to follow her (or lead her) into adultery

and when she lured him even deeper
into her toxic darkness
with her ugly undulating daughter’s unveiled treasures

like a fly he found himself
adhered to her web,
forced to behead God’s man
or eat his own pride

but John’s skull stuck in his throat
and I daresay when Herod faces judgment
he won’t be recalling Salome’s dance
with any sense of allure. 

False beauty is like that.
It leaves an after-taste
like cigarettes and stale-beer
a morning-after sense of disgust and shame
sure to receive a million hits
in your mental YouTube

and there’s no escaping an ugly woman’s sticky mess
without washing in the Living Water of Christ.

A beautiful woman
is a fount of living water,

it springs forth from within her
because she’s embraced the source
and she refreshes all she touches
with her bold and generous heart.
 
When she dances, she is not unveiled.
 
Her beauty is guarded behind the gates of wisdom,
grace,
and restraint
and it is revealed only to those diligent enough
and brave enough
and patient enough
and loving enough
to be found worthy of witnessing her brilliance and light.

Once a man has witnessed this
he loses his taste for ugly women.

A beautiful woman is a life-force like a super nova.
 
Be that woman.
Seek that woman.

Leave the ugly women
to perform for the insatiable, lie-loving masses
deluded by the prince of the air
playing deceitful tunes on his pipe and
blowing smoke into the mirrors of the age.

Soon enough, the freak show that it is will be revealed
and there will be weeping, wailing, sorrow
and many hands grasping for an illusion that isn’t there.

But not you.

For you will come to Christ
and you will be a beautiful woman.
And you will come to Christ
and you will seek a woman who has established her beauty
within the very source of all life.

And on that day, you will embrace the beautiful woman at your side
and she will embrace you
and together you will ride off into the Light.

You long to be effective in your faith. You’re facing giants. You’ll want this book. Jesus and the Beanstalk (Overcoming Your Giants and Leading a Fruitful Life)

The Power of Ugly Women – can be countered . . . https://t.co/6vzmgmUrrX #TrueBeauty #ADayWithoutAWoman #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 9, 2017

Sometimes Sin is a Sign

Sometimes we lose it with people.

It takes a lot. We’re not quick to anger. We’re the ones called to patient endurance, long-suffering, and persistence. We’re the people tasked with teaching, counseling, shepherding, discipling, and leading. We usually like people, even the challenging ones.

We’re realistic. We anticipate slow growth. We expect setbacks. We’re prepared for barriers, excuses, and restarts. All day. Every day.

Still, we remain calm, focused, centered on offering the same love and grace we’ve received from the One who loves us, stays calm with us, shows us the way. We’re accountable to Him. We want to represent Him well.

So, we live in the Proverb that “a gentle answer turns away wrath.” We memorize James 1:20 that “the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” Others are annoyed that we hang in with people as long as we do. We study farmers, fishermen, and soldiers to learn how to stay the course.

But sometimes, people push us across a threshold we didn’t even see was there – and we lose it.

Maybe that’s why I love Numbers 11. It’s a chapter about losing it with people.

When the chapter opens, God’s people complain, in the hearing of the Lord, about their misfortune.

The same people who cried out to Him to save them from slavery. The very people He delivered from Pharaoh and Pharaoh’s armies. Precisely the people for whom He parted the Red Sea and drowned soldiers, horses, and chariots. The exact people He’s provided free food for every day.

But now, well, now miracles are in the rear view mirror, and His people are tired of eating manna. They’re missing the free food they ate when they were slaves. What have you done for us lately, Lord? Rude, right? Completely understandable that the God who invented patience feels the burn – literally. The text says the people’s complaints kindled God’s anger, so His fire burned among them, consuming parts of the camp.

Moses steps in. He intercedes. These are Moses’ people, after all. Moses prays for the people, and the fires die down.

Moses rocks, right? He let his anger get the best of him once back in the day, but after spending forty years in the desert raising goats and watching bushes burn, he keeps his cool. He’s held a serpent staff, turned the Nile to blood, and watched his own leprous hand heal before his eyes.

In Numbers 12 **Spoiler Alert,** God tells us “the man Moses was very meek, more than all people who were on the face of the earth.” The meek will inherit the earth, but first, they have to survive the people they share it with.

After Moses intercedes, he hears the people complain again. Seriously. Again. And He feels the heat rise off God. He knows what’s coming, so he loses it. He turns to God and utters some of the most honest words in the Bible,

“Moses said to the LORD, ‘Why have you dealt ill with your servant? And why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all this people on me? Did I conceive all this people? Did I give them birth, that you should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom, as a nurse carries a nursing child,’ to the land that you swore to give their fathers? Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? For they weep before me and say, ‘Give us meat, that we may eat.’ I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is too heavy for me.  If you will treat me like this, kill me at once, if I find favor in your sight, that I may not see my wretchedness.’” Numbers 11:11-15

Remember this prayer for when you need it. I’ll summarize: “Did I design these people, Lord? No. These people are yours, and they would test the patience of a saint. Send me help, or take me now. Peace. Out. Amen.”

It’s true that the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Moses did the right thing in that moment he was losing it – he took it to God. Earlier in life, he’d allowed his anger to lead him to murder. That’s the wrong way to lose it. Now he knows to lose it on his knees before the Lord.

Anger can lead to sin or we can recognize it as a sign. A sign that we need support. A sign we’re carrying too much on ourselves. A sign that even the meek have limits.

We spend too much time searching the sky for signs. Sometimes God embeds the signs in our design. Pay attention when you are normally someone who loves people, but suddenly, you can’t stand the sight of them.

Don’t waste time beating yourself up. People are tough. They’ve driven God to send floods and fire. They required a long walk to the cross to save. We won’t survive them without help – the help of the Lord, the help of others filled with the Holy Spirit, the help of a quiet room with a comfy chair and a hot beverage. That’s how others survive us, baby.

When they push you too far, remember Moses’ prayer. If the meekest man in all the earth can lose it, we don’t stand a chance without Holy Spirit intervention. Get transparent with God, and send up the white flag. Do not try to handle people alone. (Read all of Numbers 11 – 12, too)

Have you been praying for a sign? It might be that feeling raising your blood pressure right now. Get with God. He’s felt the burn, and He knows the way through the fire.

Sometimes sin is a sign https://t.co/4WlHjUbdBJ When to ask for help before you lose it #losingit #Jesus #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 8, 2017

When You Have to Do What’s Impossible to Do

“I could never do what you’re doing.”

I’ve heard that line many times over the past six years.

My reply is always the same. “Neither can I.”

Many of you face unexpected circumstances, tragedies, or trials you wouldn’t choose for yourself in the great box store of life choices. You’ve also likely heard the comment from others. “I could never do what you’re doing.”

One of the more public tests I’ve endured began in 2011 when my husband “surprised” me with the purchase of his “dream.” We’re in our seventh year living inside this century-old dream he’s restoring with his own hands. For most of this time, I’ve lived without benefit of walls, floors or ceilings (you know, the frame is there but not the nifty coverings like wall board or flooring.)

My possessions, those items we gather through the years that reflect who we are, have been packed and stored away in one of two attics, since 1/01/11. We have a lovely functioning kitchen now, but that’s still the only usable room of the five on the first floor. The others are full of tools and materials or are mid-construction.

The second floor is livable now, but contains many of the large items that belong on the first floor, so my decorating resembles Mrs. Kim’s antique shop in The Gilmore Girls. One day, we hope to have heat on that floor. Got the picture?

My husband is an amazing craftsman. No one works harder than he does. No one. But, he didn’t expect to be diagnosed with a chronic illness two years into his dream. Or to be laid off from a job. He persists, though. He handles a day job (construction), and then works on our house – s-l-o-w-l-y – in the margins of life.

I cried for most of our first year in that house (okay, honestly probably for half of the second, too). I endured a depression I thought would destroy me. All my adult life, I’d been a home-maker. Home was central for this stay-at-home, home-schooling mom. Suddenly, I lived in an unadorned, stripped down box. I thought I was mature in the Lord but how quickly I unraveled with a change of address!

To enhance the experience, when Rob was without work, I was offered a stress-filled, full-time job. Life, for me, was upended, and to say I struggled is to say Democrats are miffed to find Donald Trump our new president.

This is impossible, I prayed. Over and over. This is too much. What wrong choice did I make and where? How do I follow my husband through this? He’s asking too much, Lord. You’re asking too much. I cannot endure this. My prayers for a year, while sometimes more eloquent, were essentially that.

When others said, “I could never do what you’re doing” I wanted to scream I can’t do this either. What makes you think I can?  I can’t survive this. I won’t make it. This will destroy me.

Yet, here I am. And here I live. Still longing for a place with walls and floors, but God has used this experience to show me that He’s there in the midst of the impossible making it possible for me to survive and to thrive.

Stripped of the things that made, for me, a home – Jesus said, “I am your home. Make your home with me.” And so, I’m stronger now, in Him, because faith isn’t faith until you use it.

Freed from daily tasks like cleaning (which Rob handles because it requires a shop vac), entertaining, rearranging, or decorating, I write. I’ve written and published three books from this deconstructed house. Living without walls made space for God.

Needing support through my depression and through the construction, I learned to let others take care of me sometimes. That resulted in precious hours eating dinner with my parents. Kind financial gifts for writing conferences from dear friends. Meals cooked by church friends during editing frenzies. My adult children hosting holidays, helping with sheet rock, or enduring Christmas in a single room with a tiny tree, and still choosing to be with us. That Christmas I realized how strong our relationship is with our kids, and it was a true gift.

I’ve reached a “breaking point” numerous times, but always found Jesus waiting there to hold me up and restore my strength – even when that was annoying! I’ve grown mentally stronger. I’ve learned the danger of self-pity as well as some amazing coping strategies.

Rob and I are closer than ever now, but not before wading through some deep marital waters, seeking counsel, fighting it out, and sticking it out. We appreciate each other more. Bushwacked our way through the sawdust to a greater grace.

Part of the slow pace of our construction process is that he’s always available to help others, and that’s a strong suit in a man. As I age, I also appreciate a partner who takes a loving view of old and broken down things!

God inspired me to pray for those with worse situations, broadening my range of compassion. To exercise gratitude and grace even when things aren’t where I want them to be. To place more value in the home ahead of me than the one I will inhabit for this brief life. And not to take myself so seriously.

I wouldn’t choose it, but God’s used this old house to mold me, to further His work in me and through me.

Are you in an impossible situation? Many of you face situations far worse than mine, but this I know, God is there for you, too. None of us can do what we’re doing, but with Christ, all things are possible, even our impossible predicaments.

This isn’t a clever post. I just want you to know you’re not alone. We can love and live for Jesus and still endure impossible things. That’s all.

I’ve been living in a restoration project. Turns out, it was me all along.

Enduring hardship? Trying to persevere through tough times? This is the first book I wrote when the house was at it’s worst, and I was at my lowest. Still, God was at work. Running from a Crazy Man (and other adventures traveling with Jesus)

When You Have to Do What’s Impossible to Do https://t.co/dmjpkp78yn #Jesus #renovation #endurance

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) March 2, 2017