Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 51

How We Failed a Test of the Emergency Christian-Response System

Yesterday was a test of the emergency Christian-response system and we failed miserably.

We forgot that we are at war.

We forgot that Satan has strategies and that he isn’t stupid.

We forgot that deception fills the air like a noxious gas and we all inhale. So our minds must be so infiltrated by truth they serve as filters for these lies and when we exhale, we exhale only truth.

We forgot that it’s not our job to get people to like Jesus. It’s our job to build the kingdom of Christ and tell the truth so they have the opportunity to repent and enter into relationship with Jesus. Two very different things.

MORE THAN ANY OTHER FAMILY, the family of God is inclusive, diverse, and colorful. This is the truth no matter what lies reign now in the headlines. When John was allowed a glimpse into eternity, one thing he saw was every kind of people. “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands,” Revelation 7:9 ESV

And we are diverse, not only in color, tongue, and nation but also in personality. Some of us are quiet and restrained while others of us boom like sonic planes and produce flop sweat when we tell of our passion for Jesus. As in any family, the quiet are sometimes embarrassed by the loud and the loud are sometimes frustrated with the quiet but part of building the kingdom of God is learning to love one another, accept one another, encourage one another, and build one another up in Christ. Yes, we are to correct one another, too, but in gentleness and humility.

Man, did we blow it yesterday.

Until the Starbucks red cup controversy, I’d never heard of Joshua Feuerstein. I’ve watched a few of his videos now and he is one of God’s louder, more exuberant children. I’m not like him. I’m no reclining wallflower and I work to get readers attention but his style isn’t mine and mine isn’t his. Still, I appreciate his zeal.

Starbucks cups aren’t on my daily radar so I really couldn’t care less what’s printed on them but the company has been clear that the design is intended to please everybody. That’s their goal. They’re a business and they want as many people as possible to like them. They are, in fact, compromising Christmas, to please everyone. That’s their business, not ours.

But yesterday, we didn’t handle our business properly. We compromised our love by falling all over ourselves hoping the world would continue to like us despite this zealous brother.

Joshua didn’t tell people to boycott, Starbucks. He just encouraged a smart-alecky way of announcing the reason for the season when purchasing a Starbucks coffee. Seriously, I’m not sure why Christians felt they had to attack him, unless we’re worried about being liked. Unless we’re embarrassed by his zeal. Unless we’re more concerned with separating ourselves from our “colorful relatives” than we are about taking seriously God’s commands to love one another.

Because let’s be honest. We weren’t as concerned about this red cup thing getting in the way of evangelism as we were embarrassed to find ourselves mocked publicly again on late night talk shows. We cringed at news of another “crazy” Christian. We engaged in large-scale duck-and-cover tactics in our rush to separate ourselves from family in order to maintain our popularity with as many people as possible. Much of our modern-day evangelism is us attempting to be so likeable that people will like our God. How’s that working for us?

Yesterday, we were more concerned with being cool than with asking ourselves how it would be best to love our brother. We got played. And in this war for souls, we have got to be smarter than that – a wisdom that comes from obeying God’s Word to be slow to speak and slow to anger even if we’re being mocked in the media.

We have got to get over ourselves loved ones.

King David was so in love with God, he paraded through the town in celebration and at one point, danced so exuberantly he flashed the royal jewels. God applauded David’s love for Him and it’s clear that David’s wife’s embarrassment was about her own needs, not her love of God.

And when a woman broke into a dinner with Jesus, poured oil on Him, and wept over Him out of pure love, it embarrassed the other attendees. Not Jesus. Jesus praised her self-less love and corrected the crowd. The others are condemned by their embarrassment.

We all have different personalities but let’s ask ourselves this, when was the last time our love for or zeal for Jesus was so uncontainable it made others around us uncomfortable? Lord, if this is a crime, may I be found guilty.

The first casualty of war is always the truth. Satan rules the air of this world, loved ones, and likewise, the airwaves. When headlines crash into our laps like tsunamis, we still have to be slow to speak and slow to become angry. We still have to love our brothers and sisters. We still have to see to please God more than the spectators in the stands.

Don’t you think that in the days of Rome, the crowds encouraged Christians to fight one another for sport? The right thing for any of them to do would have been to refuse to fight, to refuse to tear one another apart just to quiet the ravenous crowd. Even if it meant they died looking passive and weak, it would be best because what does the unsaved world know of true strength?

Yesterday, loved ones, was a test of the emergency Christian-response system and we failed. How will we respond when it gets real?

(it might not be your favorite preaching style, but argue with the message, loved ones. They’ll know we are Christians by our love.)

How We Failed a Test of the Emergency Christian-Response System https://t.co/2HA0bCyDUL #StarbucksRedCup #JoshuaFeuerstein #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 11, 2015

The Gospel According to Jonah

I want revenge. Reprisal. Accountability. Comeuppance. Answerability. Retribution.

It’s hard for me to admit that but it’s true.

If I’ve chosen to follow the rules, made sacrifices to be obedient, then I want those who haven’t been obedient to suffer the consequences. I don’t like people getting away with stuff. I believe in rules, standards, and laws. I like order. I respect those who live within parameters that make the world safe, productive, and conducive to healthy living.

When I see people suffer because of other people’s choices, it eats at me. Especially when those who suffer are children. When children hurt, I want someone to answer for that. That sounds like wisdom, doesn’t it? And, it’s not wrong, it’s just incomplete.

When we swear in as witnesses in court, we swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That’s powerful. The truth is that all of us should be (and will be) called to account for our actions. The truth is that if we hurt children, we will answerable. This is the truth but it isn’t the whole truth.

Jesus brought with Him the whole truth.

In my line of work, I hear a lot of people express frustration, desperation, and rage. I hear their desire for revenge, accountability, answerability, comeuppance.

People should have to get a license to have children!

Some people shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce.

Someone should yank those children away from her.

He should lose all his rights to his kids.

Harsh but understandable judgements. Spoken from broken hearts trying to help broken children. They are words that have the appearance of wisdom. Children deserve to be safe and we must protect them. Sometimes it’s necessary to separate children from their parents forever.

Grownups demand accountability. Grownups reward right behavior and punish wrong choices. Grownups execute judgement.

Children, though, children see these situations through different eyes. Even children over eighteen, want something else. I heard it best once from an eleven-year-old.

Mom: That’s it. I’m taking his father to court and he’s never going to see his son again.

Son: Mom, no. I’m safe now but you don’t need to go that far.

Mom: Don’t you want to see your dad punished? Don’t you want someone to hold him accountable for his actions? Isn’t that what you really want?

Son: No! Don’t you understand? What I want is for him to change so he can love me. That’s what I really want.

It’s not that this boy couldn’t see what his dad deserved. It’s not that he wasn’t angry. It’s not that he wanted to stick around and be hurt. It’s not that he didn’t want to be safe. What he didn’t want was permanent separation, no opportunity for change, an irreparable breach, a conclusion to a relationship that held the promise of a lifetime.

What he didn’t want was to close the door forever to love.

I see this in parents with wayward children, too. At times, they must resort to drastic consequences for wrong choices, send them away, rat them out, call the police, or testify against their own child. This is never, however, what they want. Usually, they only employ these actions when they’ve exhausted all other options and now believe the only pathway, the only chance their child has for change is threat of judgement and separation.

It is never what their parents want. What their parents want is for their children to change, to make wise choices, to love again.

Too many of us live by the gospel of Jonah. We testify to God’s truth and when others don’t choose to obey, we sit back and wait for God’s judgement on them.

God wants more from us than that. He wants us to demonstrate the truth but He wants it to be the whole truth. The whole truth is that He loves us and what He wants, what He truly wants, is for us to repent and to reenter a loving relationship with Him through Jesus Christ.

When my heart cries out for justice, for revenge, for accountability, for comeuppance, Jesus says, “Look at the cross. There it is. If that is enough to satisfy my Father’s judgement, it should also be enough for you.”

This sets me free to love the unlovable because He loved me when I was unloveable.

Peter lived through days of severe persecution. He lost loved ones in the name of Jesus. He suffered until terrible oppression, injustice, and the constant threat of martyrdom. Surely Peter, who is so like us, must have longed for accountability and judgement to come! Still, the Holy Spirit inspired Peter to write this: “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” 2 Peter 3:9 ESV

Judgement will come but if we are to bear witness to godliness then we should be like God. Love does the unbearable hard work of holding out hope for those who repeatedly make wrong choices. Love does the unbelievably hard work of setting boundaries for safety while continuing to keep an open heart in case the oppressor repents. Love does the impossibly hard work of living inside the whole truth of a grace that lays down its life for those who deserve to die. Grace that suffers. Grace that bleeds. Grace that speaks forgiveness with a mouth full of gravel and dust.

Jesus is not sitting beside the Jonah’s on the hillside waiting for the fire of heaven to rain down. He’s living in the heart of that eleven-year-old boy crying out, “No! What I really want is for them to repent so they can know My love!”

Have you been living in the gospel according to Jonah? Come back to the whole truth, come back to love.

The Gospel According to Jonah https://t.co/WadZNrwAkH are you telling the whole truth? #amwriting #grace #Gospel

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 7, 2015

One Single Question Can Save Your Love

God is asking us to do the impossible.

In these days, these days of abusers, users, addicts, enablers, entitled mindsets, and anti-Christian worldviews, in these days He refuses to release us from the command to love.

How are we supposed to do that? Seriously, most days we look like chumps. Smart money in 2015 is not on people who love. The point spread of this generation falls to those who keep up their guard, hold their love close to their vests, invest love prudently in a chosen few that prove themselves capable of receiving love responsibly, and reciprocating by changing and loving in return.

We cannot love like God (although that is the call). He loves lavishly, extravagantly, with no thought to return. He loves with patience, kindness, humility, without demand, without irritability or resentment. His love is never rude.

God holds out a love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

How are we supposed to love like that? That’s a chump’s love. That’s a love that gets taken for a ride. Love that gets taken for granted. Love that extends itself for those unable or unwilling to love in return. People don’t do that anymore. We’re too smart for that kind of love in these times.

Of course, Jesus showed us what this looks like. Jesus lived in this hard, Roman-army ruled world full of thugs, murderers, scoffers, and jackboots. Jesus knew scoundrels, hypocrites, oppressors, and whores. He saw, better than we, the depth of their sins, the blackness of their souls, and the perversion of their thoughts. Yet, He offered them love. Pure love. Heavenly love. Love divine, all loves excelling. Love that defines love. The gold standard of love He offered to men who smiled like fish and women who reeked of perfume purchased by their adulteries.

He loved the ones who spit in His face, laughed at His captivity, crowned Him with thorns, and nailed Him to a tree. He loved under fire, under duress, under a captor’s boot and a scorners laugh. He loved when His Father said no to His prayers and when His dearest friends deserted Him in His darkest hour. He loved when He had to look on the pain in His mother’s face as she watched Him die.

No one took advantage of Jesus – He offered His freely. No one took His life – He laid His life down. He didn’t love because anyone forced Him to love. He loved because He is love.

He bore all things, believed all things, hoped all things, and endured all things. And He still does.

So, God asks us to do the impossible but He did it first, He did it best, and we can do it because He will make us able.

If you think about it, how we operate in this world comes down to one simple question: Would you rather be Charlie Brown or Lucy?

How can Peanuts characters teach us how to live out our call to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, and endure all things?

By always running to kick the football.

For over fifty years, Charles Schultz testified to us all. Every fall, Lucy offers to hold the football for Charlie Brown to kick. Charlie Brown sometimes wavers but he always relents and goes for the kick. Every, single time, Lucy pulls the ball away at the last second and Charlie flies into the air. He falls flat on his back and stares at the skies.

All of us who offer our love in these times know exactly how Charlie feels. The world abounds with Lucy’s and they seem like the smart ones in the moment of the fall.

But what we have to ask ourselves is this: at the end of the day, do we want to be Charlie Brown or Lucy?

We can join the smart ones who withhold their love, who smirk at Charlie’s gullibility and hope, who toy with and deceive for the pleasure of those who spectate, who display their own arrogance and superiority through trickery, who refuse to really allow themselves to be children and engage in the real game

Or we can bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, and endure all things and always, always choose to run and kick the ball.

I choose to be Charlie. Je suis Charlie – how about you?

One single question can save your love https://t.co/Gy6NWQPW1n how to keep loving in these times #CharlieBrown #amwriting #football

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) November 3, 2015

A Rhode Island Story I Hope Will Truly Scare You

This time of year, around these parts, we tell scary stories. One of them is about Mercy Brown.

Mercy Brown was buried in Exeter, Rhode Island, January 1892. Two months later, she was exhumed. Her surviving loved ones dug her up, cut out her heart, burned it on a stone, mixed the ashes with water, and gave it to her brother to drink.

You see, Mercy’s family had died of consumption, one after the other, so townspeople theorized that one of them must be undead and had brought the curse of illness upon all. When they unearthed Mercy, her nineteen-year-old corpse appeared the least decomposed, having been preserved by the frozen New England winter. Her surviving relatives created the disturbing brew from the ashes of her heart and her brother drank it in the hope it would cure him and end the curse.

He died two months later because you don’t cure tuberculosis by drinking your dead sister’s heart.

Humans are so stupid. We’re capable of brilliance, of astonishing acts of heroism, and feats of greatness but we’re just as capable of random acts of idiocy, true lunacy, and pure hateful, selfish evil. King David knew this all too well when he said in 2 Samuel 24:14 – “I am in deep distress. Let us fall into the hands of the LORD, for his mercy is great; but do not let me fall into human hands.”

Without God’s spirit, humans don’t trend toward mercy. We’re just as likely to believe that the cure to our ills is to cut out Mercy’s heart.

We like to think we’re smarter now, and kinder, than village folk in 1892. When people have money, safe homes, and material security, we fool ourselves into thinking that we would be merciful to others even without those supports. But the truth is, when it goes against our self-interest, we often bury mercy six feet under in our souls and even if we unearth it, we’re just as likely to blame it for all our ills.

After spending a day healing and preaching repentance, Jesus chose to unwind at the home of Matthew, a tax collector. Tax collectors were traitors. They served Rome and robbed from their own people. Jesus was the Jewish Messiah and had every right to condemn those who betrayed His people. So, it confused the Pharisees that instead, He chose to share bread and lamb with them.

“And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard it, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’ For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” Matthew 9:10-13 ESV

You see, mercy truly does provide a cure for our ills but not if we bury it or slice out its heart.

Jesus rankles the Pharisees again when His followers break one of the rules of the Sabbath by picking heads of grain to eat. (picking the grains would have constituted work, according to rabbinical law.) Jesus, again, exhumes mercy. “If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.” Matthew 5:7-8

Jesus tells us that being a student of mercy is the prevention of and the cure for religious blindness, a serious ailment of the soul. Lack of mercy is the reason the Pharisees missed Jesus. Could it be the reason we continue to miss Him now? At the end of that story, the Pharisees refuse the cure and leave to plot the death of God. When I read that verse, it scared me. I understand mercy, don’t I? Or do I mistakenly blame it for my pain?

Jesus warned us to study mercy. Do I do that? Or do I only seek it when I’m feverish with what ails me and then crush it against the rock of my desperation? If being a student of mercy can keep me from going blind, if it can keep me from missing Jesus, if it keeps me from condemning the innocent, if it can prevent self-righteousness, if it makes me more like Christ, then I want mercy. But, too many times I exhume mercy only to cut out its heart.

James said, “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13-14 This is the story that should frighten us today. Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful.

In this season, we love to tell stories of the unnatural and supernatural. Here is mine. It is unnatural for the human heart to embrace mercy. More likely, to destroy even those we love, in the name of self-preservation. It is through the supernatural, a relationship with the living God, that we transcend our natural desire to cut out mercy’s heart and, instead, become students of mercy, embodied by Jesus Christ.

Mercy rose from the grave. Mercy’s heart beats on. Mercy triumphs. If they exhume my body and cut out my heart, will they find a heart of mercy, still beating with the blood of Jesus? For His heart of mercy, loved ones, is the only cure for all that afflicts us.

A Rhode Island Story I Hope Will Truly Scare You https://t.co/6zgpTlH2k1 #MercyBrown #scarystories #amwriting

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 30, 2015

Go Ahead. Get Mad at This Post. I Want You To

No one should have to walk on eggshells around people who can walk on water. That’s what I think.

There are Christians who are sensitive to the Holy Spirit and then there are touchy religious people who take offense at every turn. Which we are is largely up to us.

For several months, I met with a group of writers who love writing but don’t follow Jesus. I learned from them and we enjoyed one another’s work.

One night, we discussed a scene from one of my novels. An older writer asked why I didn’t have the veteran detective swear. I summarized, again, the standards of Christian publishers for fiction. When I concluded, she looked at me with honest concern and asked, “Wow, exactly how fragile are you people?”

I agree with many of the standards we have for Christian writing – not for fear of offending anyone – but because I believe excellent writers can transcend trashy words, gratuitous gore, and blatant sex scenes. Christian writers, made in the image of God who is THE Word, should be the most excellent of all writers. No doubt.

Still, her concern bothered me. That’s not the kind of stuff I’m made of – not in Christ. In Christ, I’m not fragile; I’m indestructible. In Christ, I’m not breakable; I’m eternal. In Christ, I’m not quick to take offense; I’m slow to anger. In Christ, I’m tougher than I ever was without Him because He is my shield, my fortress, and my strong tower.

But, I understood what she meant.

It can become an unstated contest in the church which of us is so “sensitive to the Holy Spirit” we see offenses at every turn. In modern times, we’ve become a touchy crowd. As easily sparked as tinder in a drought. That shouldn’t be the way of believers.

Sensitive, touchy, easily offended is not how Jesus lived. It’s not our calling. Huffing, puffing, and finger wagging at every slight isn’t Holy Spirit sensitivity. It’s a form of self-centeredness, which is the antithesis of representing Jesus. If someone apologizes for swearing in my presence, I don’t want it to be because they fear a scolding but because they sense the presence of Jesus.

In karate, we did conditioning drills where we took hits from our partners (to our arms and legs) to prepare to withstand more hits. We invited the minor pain because it conditioned our bodies to take the pain of an actual assault and continue to operate.

That’s what I believe we should be thinking in these times. Does my faith offend you? Tell me about. Go ahead. Mock me. Laugh at me. Insult me. Try to shut me down. I’ll practice being slow to anger, quick to listen, and slow to speak. I’ll learn to rely on God to forgive those who persecute me and to pray for even those who despise me. I’ll practice loving under fire. I’ll practice witnessing for Christ with a mouthful of gravel and a boot on my neck. I want you to see Jesus and to know I am an overcomer by His power. If I have nothing to overcome, what is there for you to see?

Exclude me from your little circle? Fine. I’ll learn to enjoy the company of Christ. Hurt me economically? Excellent. I’ll learn to rely more on Jesus. Try to strip me of power? Go ahead. They did that to my Lord and He showed them that all power lies with Him by rising from the grave. What have I to fear? In Jesus, I live the gospel of bring it on, baby, bring it.

I talk tough on paper but I believe this, even if I shake in my shoes in the lunchroom at work when someone starts a conversation that I know will leave me in the minority. Still, it’s never occurred to me to complain to the management that my fragile Christian self can’t tolerate opposing views voiced over tuna sandwiches. Nothing we’ve faced so far in America has come even close to something we can call persecution – not compared to brothers and sisters overseas.

It’s no great witness to wag your finger at someone who curses in the next cubicle. It’s a powerful witness to choose to follow Jesus today in Syria, North Korea, Somalia, or China. How much better would it be, when faced with a coworker using the Lord’s name in vain, if we responded like this:

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Oh, does it offend you when I use God’s name in vain?”

“It’s God’s business to take offense. It’s His name, after all, and He knows you better than I do. It’s up to Him to deal with you on that. No, it’s just that every time I hear you say that, I think about Christians suffering for that name in other countries and it makes me sad. I was just praying this morning for a pastor in China who has been in prison for ten months simply for preaching about the owner of that name. Every time you say it that way, I think how having to hear you abuse my God’s name is nothing compared to what that pastor is enduring.”

How many opportunities do we miss by displaying the world’s idea of sensitivity to God’s Spirit when we should be displaying His? Jesus didn’t walk this planet huffing and puffing and taking offense. There was nothing fragile about the King of Kings. Even in death, He laid His life down. It wasn’t taken from Him.

Because Jesus holds my heart in His hands, it’s really up to me how much hurt I take from the world. God’s enemies can try to destroy me but they won’t succeed. I can cooperate with them and let myself be fragile or I can submit to the conditioning, in the power of the Holy Spirit, and learn to love through it, forgive through it, bear witness as I endure it.

Maybe I’m wrong but cross bearing seems much more biblical than finger wagging, don’t you think?

Go Ahead. Get Mad at This Post. I Want you to . . . https://t.co/GkcjsacMlK What should offend you? #amwriting #Christian #Seinfeld

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 27, 2015

The Terrible, Horrible Discomfort of Jesus Adventures

Don’t you just love life’s little comforts?

Hot coffee in the morning, warm bed at night.

Soft clothing, acoustic guitar, warm baths, and gooey pizza. Old friends, family nearby, and a car that always starts. Medicine when I’m sick and phone calls when I’m lonely. Reward for my efforts and answers to my prayers. People who understand me or who tolerate me when I don’t and the freedom to express myself in a way people can hear.

Yes, I love my comforts.

So, why does God so clearly love my discomfort? What motivates Him to press me on to new relationships that feel stiff, like jeans dried on a clothesline? Or new adventures to places that don’t serve my kind of coffee and take me far from family? Or inconveniences like cranky cars, illnesses for which there is no medicine, and situations where I’m misunderstood or silenced?

What is to be gained by my discomfort?

This is the question I asked before the Lord removed my comforts, before He set me in a place so far outside my comfort zone I forgot my old address, as distant from my inner happy place as Rapunzel was from the ground, so uncomfortable with my surroundings that awkward and intolerable feel like resting places.

Now, I see, though it took a very long time of my moaning, whining, complaining, appealing, pouting, praying, seeking, fasting, relenting, forgetting, resigning, and fretting before I surrendered enough to say, “Fine. Fine. Well, Fine! If it’s Your will that I be uncomfortable until I am home with You, then I’ll remain in my discomfort but please, let me see You at work in these days. Show me how to live for you without comfort.”

And then, I was free.

Because comforts on this side of glory are fleeting. When we have them, we should be glad but when they’re gone, we should also rejoice because clinging to them, clutching at them, trying to drag them along on a new adventure simply tethers us to what isn’t lasting, to what will perish, to things that are destined for burning. They are shadows of things to come when we’ll experience comforts designed for eternity.

Jesus told the story of Lazarus and the rich man in Luke 16. Lazarus rested on Abraham and the rich man suffered on the other side of a large chasm. “And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’  But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish.” Luke 16:24-25

And I think, I want comfort now but more than comfort, I want that no one I love or meet will suffer the fate of the rich man who will be without comfort forevermore. There are soldiers and firefighters and parents and medical staff who go without comforts to serve others, why should I cling to mine when the world is writhing in agony as it wrestles with early labor that will birth the end?

I can see there is no wrong in comforts but there is more right in following Jesus into discomfort for the sake of the Kingdom of God. It’s not too soon to adopt the mindset of a soul with millions of years ahead, an eternity of hot coffee, warm fires, and long chats with old friends ahead. These are the days to embrace adventure and adventure is unsettling, awkward, and strange.

But as I release my grip from my mug, my warm blanket, and my familiar ways, I free my hands to reach for His and find He is the source of all Comfort. He is the oldest friend. He is the dearest family. He is the warmest fire. He is health to the bones, light to the eyes, and a sure pathway to wandering feet. He is a hand on my shoulder, warm arms in the night, and the Father watching for my return all in one.

If He never made us uncomfortable on earth, we would not know His comfort, which goes beyond all other comforts we have known. His comfort feels like home because, so it is, our home. And adventures, even terrible, frightening, horrifying ones, can be the long dark corridors that brings us right back home into His waiting arms.

The Terrible, Horrible Discomfort of Jesus Adventures https://t.co/mVMPBfRLWp #amwriting #faith #LOTR #Bilbo

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 24, 2015

Refuse to Accept the Wall

Have you ever wondered how Superman can leap tall buildings in a single bound? Maybe he believes in the leap more than he believes in the building.

The young man sat across the table from me. He wore jeans, a black t-shirt, and a faded jean jacket. His eyes were slightly crossed and he struggled to speak. Beside him, his grandmother clutched her pocketbook and nodded encouragement.

“I need something impossible,” he said.

“Is that all?” I asked. “What’s this impossible thing?”

He had just graduated high school after spending his entire school career in a special classroom. “You know. I can’t learn,” he said, shrugging. His only plan now was to enter the military and in order to be considered for MP, he had to obtain a certain score on the entrance exam. Could our tutoring center help him reach that goal?

How bad could it be? I thought.

It was bad.

The practice question on our screening assessment was 321 + 123 = ? He couldn’t do it. He never made it past the sample question.

Still, his grandmother pleaded. This was his only plan. His parents had failed him. The school had given up on him. He was close to giving up on himself. She was all he had but he wouldn’t have her much longer. She pulled out her checkbook. Would we at least try?

He promised to come every night we were open. To work hard. To try.

He did.

Maybe it was his motivation. Maybe it was the one-on-one attention. Perhaps it was the lessons geared toward his interests. His grandmother was a praying woman who backed her prayers with action. As I watched him work, I prayed, too. I believe this is key.

One night, four months into his ten-month stay, the young man sobbed as he sat across from me. “I can learn,” he said, “I can learn!” By the time he left, he could do rudimentary algebra. His grandmother called me weeks later. He achieved his target score on the ASVAB. He accomplished the impossible.

Why hadn’t he learned up until that point? I don’t know. Others had tried to teach him. He’d tried to learn but when everyone hit a wall, they’d accepted the wall. They didn’t question the permanence of the wall and couldn’t imagine it might be scaled, breached, or destroyed.

How many walls have you accepted?

Imagine the Israelites. They encountered walled cities but they followed a God who said – “Refuse to accept the wall. “

The Israelites had to trust that the God they couldn’t see was more real than the wall they could. They were fallible mortals, everyday people but with their God, they saw walls crumble.

And God isn’t satisfied with breaking down physical walls. He knows the walls between us and within us are more challenging still but He is undeterred. “For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility” Ephesians 2:14

He is more real than any walls we can create or that we encounter. It’s why John made a point of mentioning that walls were no issue for the resurrected Christ, “And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you.” John 20:26

When do we stop accepting walls? When do we turn our wall-focused vision to allow Jesus to fill our view? When do we stop listening to the people who say, “The walls have always been there and always will be?” They used to say that in Jericho.

We follow a God more real than walls. Why do we keep our eyes on the wall?

Are you ready to pray with the Psalmist, “For it is you who light my lamp; the Lord my God lightens my darkness. For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall.” Psalm 18:28-29

What walls are we ready to see crumble? Pray with me and let’s keep our eyes on Jesus, more real than all our walls.

Refuse to accept the wall https://t.co/WojN7h11YU What’s more real? Jesus or the wall? #Jericho #miracles #amwriting #faithinaction

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 21, 2015

It’s All Ruined

One simple sentence makes my stomach knot every time I hear it or think it.

This sentence has the power to send worlds into a tailspin, emotions into a downward spiral, and faith into bankruptcy. It’s a short sentence with ancient origins. It was likely uttered for the first time at the dawn of creation and every utterance of it since carries with it the destructive power of its genesis.

“It’s ruined!”

That’s it. One sentence. It’s ruined! Or You’ve ruined everything! Or I’ve ruined it! Or That’s it. Now it’s ruined. Or He ruined his life. Or She ruined their relationship.

It’s an exclamation of despair. Powerlessness. Loss of hope. Loss of innocence. Destruction. Fatality and doom.

Some of us can build or create. All of us can destroy. It’s the rare ones among us with a gift for repairing, restoring, reclaiming, and redeeming what would otherwise be lost.

It’s one thing when a small child weeps over a drawing destroyed for an artful mom to show him how a stray line can be turned into a comical bunny. It’s a completely different thing when that child grows up, chooses to text and drive, causing a car accident that damages other lives. Or a youth pastor runs off with one of the teens and his hypocrisy turns your child away from God. Or in a weary, stressful moment you speak critical, hurtful words to your sensitive daughter-in-law driving a wedge between you that festers for years. Or your husband comes home and confesses he’s made a terrible investment and now he’s lost everything you both had saved.

It’s ruined. It’s all ruined.

A phrase that keeps you from sleep at night or looms large in your waking mind. A phrase that stabs at you when you hear of other people’s children fulfilling their dreams or watch your friend and her husband retire early. It haunts you in the waiting room of the rehab center or the wooden bench at the courthouse or the holiday dinner with the empty chairs.

It’s fine to believe in Jesus when life is whole, relationships are new, babies are healthy, and churches are newly formed. We discover the true heartbeat of faith, however, when we turn to Jesus amidst the ruins.

He specializes in ruins.

Our initial act as a race was to ruin the perfect world God created. He was undeterred. He wove redemption into the tapestry of time and, through Jesus, made us a people charged with continuing the work.

Through the prophet, Isaiah, God sends us His message of restoration: “And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.” Isaiah 58:12

He repeats the message in Isaiah 61:4, tied to the prophecy of the coming Messiah, “They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.”

Jesus is the Redeemer. What is ruined, He can restore. What is destroyed, He can redeem. And God’s plan is so powerful, He includes us in the ministry of reconciliation.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.” 2 Corinthians 5:17-19

We are not powerless. We live in a ruined world and we face ruined lives every day but we have the power, through Jesus, to rebuild the ruins.

I think about this when I see the destruction of ISIS in Syria. They demolish what others hold sacred – temples, towns, lives. They ruin everything.

There is one who has been bent on ruination since the genesis of the planet. Those who follow him only know how to destroy. This is no special skill. It is a toddler’s thrill to knock down what others build up.

We who know Jesus are not powerless (though loving Jesus among the ruins sometimes convinces us that we are.) We know His redemptive power. We know His restorative gift. We know He is the author of life and has entrusted us with the ministry of reconciliation.

Building is hard work. Restorative, repair work is slow, meticulous, time-consuming, and detailed. It requires patience, passion, dedication, endurance, skill, and heart. But, it is a worthy and admirable work – more powerful and strong than the work of those who destroy.

Destruction will cease. Ruination will have an end. Redemption will endure into eternity.

Let’s not lose sight of this truth as we live for Jesus here among the ruins.

It’s Ruined! It’s All Ruined http://t.co/hIKqAR9Ufx Living for Jesus among the ruins #ISIS #Palmyre #amwriting #faith

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 16, 2015

No Business Blessing the Business of Death

Some actions are wrong – absolutely wrong.

It’s wrong to hail the discovery of “life” on Mars as we celebrate the destruction of human life in the womb. It’s wrong to decry cruelty to pets or the hunting of wild animals and yet stand on the steps of an establishment devoted to ending human life and pray God’s blessing upon it.

God doesn’t bless abortion. Destroying life in the womb is wrong. God loves the soul whose life is cut short and He loves the ones who choose to end it but the act is wrong. The important choices, the ones unpopular to discuss, are the ones that lead up to that child’s conception, not just the one that leads to her death.

Men and women make countless choices leading to a child’s conception and no one makes the decision to abort in a vacuum. Some women choose abortion on principle or for selfish reasons. Others are pressured into abortions by abusive men or controlling parents. Some are abandoned by all who might support her and so, feel abortion is their only option. Think of all the choices being made before all choice is removed from that unborn child.

God forgives those who repent, not because it’s no crime to kill but because Jesus hung on a cross to purchase forgiveness for those who kill and for those who profit from killing. Hypocrisy, judgement, arrogance, and pride are also wrong. However, their prevalence in people who call themselves Christians does not make abortion right. We don’t atone for one sin by approving of another. Furthermore, it’s not courage that blesses abortion, it’s pandering. It’s the worst kind of deception, a lie clothed in church robes.

Americans usually love being prepared. Long-range weather forecasts. Hurricane and earthquake kits. Survival bunkers. Fire drills. It’s as if we inherited from our forefathers and mothers an inner urgency to hunker down, ready for any storm. So it surprises me how many of us aren’t preparing for what is clearly coming. We resist every test and trial God sends to strengthen one of the most important muscles we’ll need in these days to come. That muscle is courage.

COURAGE: mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.

What passes as courage these days is a watered-down brew of the actual stuff required to stand alone in front of Communist tanks, risk years of separation from loved ones in a Siberian work camp, or stare-down hungry lions. We pampered few think it takes courage to mention our church at work, to tell a friend that adultery is wrong even if she’s “really in love,” or to not drink at the family party even though our siblings will mock. Those actions take an everyday commitment to truth. They take nerve, gumption, and a certain chutzpah but surely, courage is weighed on a greater scale.

In other countries, to choose to be a Christian means economic suicide. It means risking your children’s education and opportunities for betterment. It means possible physical harm, loss of property, imprisonment, or death. Courage for these believers is about facing more than disapproval, discomfort, or loss of social standing. Speaking up about Christ at the office or voicing moral concerns to friends are acts to be commended and encouraged. These are acts that build the muscles for courage but let us not set the bar too low for such a mighty virtue lest we fall short when the task requires greater heart.

Courage comes from a godly heart because it is the fruit of properly placed affections. God says, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” I John 4:18 and “Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love.” I Corinthians 16:13-14

Love is a prerequisite for courage. Consider that. Lack of love leads to cowardice.

One of the most haunting stories in history is Kublai Khan charged Marco Polo to bring priests to teach his people about the Christian God. Only two priests volunteered. Somewhere in the mountains, those priests lost heart – their courage failed them – and they turned back. Who knows what history would have been written had they forged on – fueled by love of Christ and love for the people of a wild, unknown kingdom?

What made men of God so soft, so addicted to comfort, so afraid? Perhaps, years in the courts at Rome hadn’t prepared them to exercise true courage. This should be a caution to us.

Are we raising a generation of believers rooted in love with courage that rises to the true definition and to the dangers yet to come? Or are we plumping the pillows on our children’s pews and checking to see that they’re comfortable while they await the coming destruction?

“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” William Shedd

When was the last time your ship set out to sea?

No Business Blessing the Business of Death http://t.co/ztal2kn1MJ Is there a blessing for #abortion #blessingabortion #Cleveland #faith

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 14, 2015

When God Gets a Busy Signal – A Post to Set You Free

My Dad wanted to reach me the other day, so he called. Repeatedly.

I was having a long overdue chat with my best friend on my cell phone. I saw him beep in but I ignored the call. I could speak with him later. The house phone rang and knew it was him. Again, he beeped in my cell – twice.

I’d already seen him that morning. Knew he was fine. He was working on a particular project for my adult son. We live across the street from one another so I saw there was no ambulance in his driveway. I continued my conversation with my friend.

He tried again on the house phone and then the cell. I was winding down my chat when suddenly, I heard his screen door slam and watched his car pull out of his driveway into mine. “I gotta go,” I mumbled to my friend. “He’s actually driven to my house.”

There was nothing wrong with my chatting and nothing wrong with expecting him to wait. Dad wasn’t angry with my not answering. We have a strong relationship and he assumed I had an important call. He just was intent on getting me a piece of information for my son. He knew exactly where to find me just as I usually know exactly where to find him.

I was thinking about that in the past weeks as I’ve endured an unusually busy time for me. For years, I crafted a life that allowed me to be available to God and to others, to be the person who isn’t always busy so I could spend time with God. Spend time with hurting people. Pay attention to my kids.

Now, my kids are grown and the landscape of my life has shifted. I have a full-time day job. I write full-time. (Do the math on that.) I speak to groups. My parents live across the street. My husband is pursuing a dream of renovating a house (while we live inside it) and has hit some speedbumps along the way – one of which is MS. I’m enjoying serving in a local church family. My daughter is weeks away from getting married. There isn’t a surface in my home that isn’t either under construction or covered with wedding gifts, wedding crafts, wedding lists, Hannah’s packed belongings, or writing/speaking materials.

I. am. Busy.

For weeks, I wrestled with an undercurrent of stress I finally identified as fear and guilt. Busyness is a bad thing isn’t it? Busy prevents me from being available to God. God calls us to a simple life and there’s nothing simple happening here. But as I looked over what I’m doing, nothing could give right now. Whatever doesn’t need to be done, I already wasn’t doing.

Plus, I’m not ignoring God. He’s first on my mind when I wake. I pray before my feet hit the floor. Throughout my workday, I listen to the Bible on CD and pray about what I’m hearing.

And, to be sure I don’t lose sight of Him, I take a day off from all work once a week, Saturday evening to Sunday evening. That’s when I go to movies, worship, read a book, walk with my husband, or sit on the porch.

On my day of rest, I am like Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything, “I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed.”

Still, even with that, I was wrestling with fear. What I wasn’t seeing was that Satan was feeding that fear. Taunting me about being too busy. Whispering that all this busyness would lead to terrible, terrible trouble. Someone would get hurt.

Then, all at once, God reminded me of something this week. I was involved with my day job, making lists for the wedding, and lists for the writing when I heard Him beep in on my mental conversation. Several times, I ignored Him, thinking I’d get to Him later but He had an important piece of information for me so He got right in my face with Romans 8:38-39. “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,  nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

That’s when I saw the truth. Nothing can separate me from Jesus – not even busyness.

If there is a time for everything, then there is a time to be busy. I still believe there is too much busyness on the planet and we should be sure what we’re doing is what we’re called to do. But, there are demanding seasons when what He calls us to do stretches us and requires us to be busy. He. Is. still. With. Us.

Nothing can separate us from Jesus. I pulled out my Bible and read Romans 8 in full. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” leapt out at me. I used it against the voice of Satan and His taunts disappeared.

I’m no longer afraid of the busyness because I know that whenever God wants me to know something, He’s going to break through and tell me. He is for me and because He is for me, who can stand against me? Not even me.

Is this your busy season? If God called you to it, He’ll see you through it. Rest in Him even in the busy season.

When God gets a busy signal – a post to set you free http://t.co/G7L9YZaTlI #amwriting #busydoinglife #faith

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) October 10, 2015