Author: lesliealamb

“But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”  2 Corinthians 12: 8-9

I didn’t anticipate it, but it’s been one of those weeks.  One of those weeks where I let the devil get the better of me. Where I listen to those lies I’ve tried to shut out for so long…where I take on new lies that I know don’t belong.  Yeah, one of those.

I’ve been emotional, burdened, hurting, and duped.  I’ve felt every tear acutely, heard every word whispered, and watched with personal defeat every plan fall through.  It’s been a painful week.

I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.  In fact, after I got the kids fed and off to school and my husband found himself in the shower, I quite literally crawled back into bed, pulled the covers over my head and began to pray.  I prayed for friends and loved ones, young girls that I know and love that are struggling and hurting, college kids who are swamped with school work, church needs, family needs, families that I don’t know but that I know are in pain, the lost, the found, and everyone in between…and then I dozed off.

I was content to let the day go by as I laid in my bed and pretended that I didn’t exist, or that the world didn’t exist, that there wasn’t tragedy all around me, and that I didn’t feel overwhelmed and afraid. And God let me, for two more hours.

I woke up with the feeling that I had to start the day.  I had to spend time with Jesus.  I had to get my thoughts in order so that I could be of some earthly good.  I had to get up and do what I’ve been called to do – be Jesus. (And let’s face it, Jesus with morning breath and bed head, isn’t necessarily the Jesus people need to meet!)

Intentionally putting my feet on the ground, I got out of bed.  I stumbled to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of ambition and tried to come alive…(not really, I just suddenly heard Dolly Parton in my head). But, I did go to the kitchen, my resting place at the counter, pulled my Bible and devotional over to me, and listened for a word from God.

That’s when the verse above, coated my overworked mind. His grace is sufficient.  “I know that,” I thought.  But then I heard a voice say, “It IS sufficient.”  Not it might be sufficient, or it could be sufficient, or it should be sufficient, but it IS sufficient.  Nothing changes that. I can tell myself all day that it isn’t, or it doesn’t feel like it is, or that I wish that it were, but God’s Word says that it is.  It IS.  My feelings, emotions, perceptions can’t change what IS.  God’s grace IS sufficient.

His grace overrides my fear, my anxiety, my heartache, my doubts, my pain, my sorrow.  His grace is my sufficiency.  Being a wordsmith I looked up the word:

SUFFICIENT : enough to meet the needs of a situation or a proposed end.

I cannot explain the peace that washed over me when I saw that word, enough.  There is so much peace in that word.  That word satisfies and quenches.  It reminds me that there is nothing more to be gained from any other source or outlet; His grace IS enough.

Since I seemed to be on a word kick, and with each revelation I was absorbing more and more peace I tried again…the word that every Christian clings to – grace. And one definition spoke out to me:

GRACE: unmerited divine assistance

Isn’t that lovely?  Divine assistance. It isn’t natural assistance, or common assistance, but divine assistance.  It is the kind of assistance that I was craving, praying for, crying out for…and it was mine.  Divinely.

Then I pieced it all together and found the answer to what I need most in every concern I’ve voiced.

“God’s divine assistance will take care of every circumstance or situation.”

So, my formerly lazy self left all those fears and doubts and discouragements and needs on the counter.  I left them there on that counter that is stained with tears and imprinted with my scrawled prayers and the chair that is formed to meet me every morning, and I walked away, confident and enlightened.

And two hours later, when satan got in my head and tried to tear me down again through the careless words of others…I remembered and relied on that promise.  His divine assistance IS taking care of everything.  Whether I acknowledge it or not. Yes, it IS!

“Judge not, lest you be judged.”

This verse is taking residence with me today. Judgement. I guess most of the time when we see or hear that word, we picture God on His throne holding a list of wrongs in one hand and a lightning bolt in the other…just waiting. Isn’t that what we picture? But, lately I’m interpreting those verses a little differently. I’m seeing a little more of the “justice of God” and I’m understanding a little more how He works.

Recently, I was faced with an issue. A compromise. A sin. And, blindly or determinedly (I’m honestly not sure which, and yes, in this case it could have been purely either), I found myself head first in a mud puddle that I made. Mud puddle is too tame. An abyss. The craziness is it was a sin that I would never have seen myself committing, a sin that previously I had judged others for. Sad, but true. And there I was dealing with it, or trying to cope with it…managing it, mainly. I was trying to keep this sin, this tragic confusion from running out of control, and taking me and everyone else with it. Funny thing is…you can’t manage sin…ever.

In the midst of this depravity reckoning and wondering when and how and why and what, I ran across another in the same situation. Another person depressed at the outcome of a seemingly good situation, confronting the very issue that she had rose up in righteous indignation about with others. But, there she was…licking her wounds and begging for answers.

And another came along. A sin that had never seemed possible, a sin that had previously grossed him out and had angered him was holding onto him like a skirt clings to pantyhose. He was disappointed, heartbroken, devastated and discouraged. How could this happen to him? Who was to blame? “You are that man!” echoed in his ears and pierced his heart.

These were big issues,”big sins” so we like to call them. Huge interruptions to our religious understandings, and we were highly convicted. I think we could all say that we were feeling awfully condemned. Grace didn’t apply to the saved. We knew better, we talked better, we understood better. Mercy for those that spit in the face of their Saviour wasn’t expected or deserved. We battled those feelings, those thoughts, those lies for weeks, months, and some of us, years.

And then, we all heard the same word: LOVE.

We heard it and initially dismissed it. Not this. Not us. Not now. God is mad at us. He’s disappointed. We are evil.

Then, again that whisper: LOVE.

So we sought to understand, each in our own way, using our creative gifts, seeking our Creator to understand the impossible, the implausible, and the unbelievable. And, gratefully and gracefully, He met us. Each of us have our stories, our moments, our unbelievable miracles of faith, and they all led us to One. Christ.

It seems funny. We were all saved. We were all in some sort of ministry. We were all leading in some capacity. We knew well the name of Jesus. We were working for Him, serving Him, trying our best to be just like Him. Proving our righteousness by His blood.

And each of realized that all of us were wrong.

LOVE.

BLOOD.

RIGHTEOUSNESS.

In that order, occupied by one…Jesus the Christ. He alone can prove righteous…by His blood…poured out of His great, unfathomable love.

Suddenly verses that we had memorized and mumbled became new life. Verses that we had brushed under the rug labeled “For the poor sinners” held meaning to us. Verses that reiterated the reason for the sacrifice rang true and offered hope.

And just as suddenly those others that were despicable and filthy didn’t seem so anymore. We were just like them. They were just like us. There is none righteous. They aren’t flippant words spoken without thought or conviction. Those are words of meaning and sacrifice. None of us are good enough. There is no righteous act that makes one more deserving than the other. My sin was big, but I was tempted to compare and to point, when all the time, God was teaching me a very important lesson.

“Judge not, lest you be judged.”

Still smoking from the fire, I backed up a little and realized the collected good works that I thought would save me from sin, protect me from falling, were simply a hill of accolades trampled by the feet of my pride. They meant nothing. Filthy rags with no power to sustain or to save.

The only difference between me and those I previously judged, was that I now saw and understood that Christ was the answer, the righteousness, the hope that I was looking for. Suddenly our righteous indignation and disappoint in them had turned into love and grace and a desire to help them understand they were not alone, they were not condemned, and God’s grace was sufficient for their needs…just like our needs…just like your needs.

All three of us are different. We aren’t too far removed from our sin, and we each hope we never become. Our sin and our salvation has become our testimony. The stones that we threw are now markers in the garden of “Remember when..” and with the fertilizer of our past, God is making something beautiful and new.

“Judge not, lest you be judged.”

God doesn’t want us to judge one another out of hatred or disgust. God would have us meet those struggling with sin in love and hope, the sinner and the saved. There is none without the potential to sin, none. Our Father knows this very well. He doesn’t save us just for a glorious adventure in heaven, He saves us from ourselves, the sinner and the saint. He saves us from the lies of the enemy that wants to deprive us of grace and make us question His love. He saves us so that we might show others. He saves us because we CANNOT save ourselves. And, when we refuse to see the mess our righteousness makes or the stench our pride puts off, He will allow us to walk a mile in their shoes. And when we come through, understand, and reach out, it becomes the sweet aroma of Christ Who came to seek that which is lost. Judgement? Revenge? Covered with grace, and walked out in earnest, it can be our blessed assurance.

One more thing my friends and I now make it a point to do: Be transparent. If we pretend that we are perfect, holy, or indivisible, it only makes our fall that much more painful. Be honest. We are all slipping in some way or another…only some of us hold the Life-line, willing and ready to yank us all up.

“Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.” James 1:2-4

I’m not the best mom. I am honest enough to admit that. But, I do love my kids! They are precious to me; in a milli-second I would give my life for them. They are my delight.

I love them even when they drive me crazy and I find myself yelling. I remember a couple of years ago, the girls had gotten caught doing the very thing I had demanded they not do, and I lost it. I just started yelling at them. Frustrated with their lack of obedience and my lack of self-control, I screamed, “I AM NOT A YELLER!” picture spit flying, hair blown back, and little eyes wide. And, I wasn’t lying, well, not completely. In my nature, I’m not a yeller, I’m non- confrontational, I’m rational. But that day I was feeling extra “fleshly”. I would be tempted to believe that was an isolated incident but it was not, indicated by the time my neighbor’s daughter stated, “Mizz Lazlie…You sure do like to yell.” Ugh – Like a ten ton brick lobbed at my toe! Then she said, “My mom yells a lot, too!” And like that I was relieved. I shouldn’t have been. I mean the evidence of my temper had just crushed my toe, but, with that bit of information – that another well meaning Christian mom was a yeller, too! – Well, it was a comfort. I even had the audacity to think, “Her poor kids.”

I love them even when I don’t listen. I try to listen. I really do, but there are moments when I’m driving and they’ve hollered my name a million times and I finally snap, “What???” And they say, “Right?” And then I’m caught. I’m stuck and I’m caught. I could say, “Yes,” but with my luck they would have been talking about taking a trip to Disney or to Hawaii. I could say, “No,” but then I’m left with the possibility that one of them had argued that she was my natural born daughter. The flood works would have started and the feelings of inferiority… So I was honest. “I’m sorry what were we talking about?” As if the “we” in that might confuse them enough to think I might have actually been listening all along. Nope. “You never listen!” and like that, she hit the bullseye with an arrow to the heart. I could have argued her “never” but instead I pulled up my pity pants and said, “I’m sorry.”

I love them even when I’m hurt by their words, or sick and can’t take care of them, or tired and I can’t see to read a bedtime story, or busy and I can’t stop to pee much less watch a movie! And they love me … Even when.

But I was thinking today, as I was out, “I’m gonna do something special!” So I headed over to our local Asian grocery store and picked up keem and mandu and pockey. For the non-educated in all things Korean that is: seaweed, dumplings (gyoza for sushi bar frequenters), and chocolate covered pretzel sticks (for dessert, of course!) I had so much fun thinking about how much my kids would enjoy their simple Korean meal that I found myself humming, and even the Vietnamese lady and her horn-rimmed glasses didn’t deter me. I was playing the part of the doting mother, because even if I yell or don’t listen or forget or so many other things I’m reluctant to admit, my kids can’t deny the fact that I dote!

I’m not the best mom, but I love my kids! Heck, they’re my kids! Perfection doesn’t run in my genes. But I’m perfect for them since God obviously chose me to mother them, and they’re perfect for me because they keep me humble. And tonight, were having a perfectly simple Korean meal. (I’m actually hoping that makes up for yesterday when I apparently misunderstood my daughter’s “LIKE” for “like” and should have let her play longer with the boy who will heretofore remain nameless.) Sigh. That’s just delightful.

Always.

There is such assurance in that word. Always. Not temporarily, not for the moment, not while it feels good, or its convenient, or I’ve got nothing better to do but always.

It’s not a word we toss around lightly. It’s not a word that we even feel comfortable saying. It requires commitment and loyalty, vulnerability and resolve. Not just because I have to, or because you’ve asked – but because it is – always.

Always. We long for it. There’s not a human on this planet that doesn’t crave to hear that word. But, we want to hear it from lips that are sincere, dedicated, and trustworthy. We want the follow through, the action that speaks the essence of the word – always.

Never.

It isn’t pretty. Never. It’s riddled with fear and speculation. It’s usually the visceral response to a jilted always. I’ll never trust him again. I never want to see her again. I’ll never let that happen again. Never … Again. A compromised always.

Never is spoken through clinched teeth and a wounded spirit. Never! It’s a word of protection and isolation – keeping us further and further from healing and freedom and gripping us tighter in fear and anger. It’s a word cancer that threatens to kill our hope. A dangerous utterance that binds us to desperation.

But, there is an always you can trust – it’s an always that is dedicated and endures the tests of time and space, an always that speaks forever out of eternal lips that know exactly how epic that is; “I am with you always.” It’s not temporary or flippant; it is steadfast and resolved – always.

And, there is a never that doesn’t make your heart ache, a never that doesn’t come from the whisper of a scared victim cautious of the next assault. It is a never that speaks safety and hope, not borne of human walls; “I will never leave you or forsake you.” It’s a courageous, arms wide, passionately loving never.

He is your always and your never. The thing that you need most, the answer to your longings, the safety you’ve been looking for. He is.

His never comes with a guarantee. He will never suck you in and spit you out. He will never make light of your vulnerability, and He will never misuse your trust.

His always comes with a promise. He will always be by your side. He will always love you. He will always protect you.

He won’t ever compromise those two things. Ever. It would compromise His character, and He could never do that. It’s hard to understand, too good to be true, too amazingly hopeful…yes. But, He is “Always” here and “Never” leaving, and good enough to be perfectly trusted! Christ is!

Proofing:  The detection and correction of error.

I have spent multiple hours proofing and editing and getting more sleep in the morning then at night. As an author it is important to me to get it just right…and try as I might, it still has to be re-edited and proofed by another set of eyes that leave ugly red marks all over again. Such is the life of a writer. No matter how many times I go over it, no matter how many mistakes I correct there are still more…that someone else sees and corrects and the cycle continues…until eventually we are at a place that we both approve of, and finally, we go to the printer!

I’ve been thinking a lot about this proofing process as it relates to my faith walk.

We are told by the apostle Paul that we should run with endurance the race that God has marked before us by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the Author (I like that) and the Perfector (I really like that) or our faith. (Hebrews 12:1-3) God is the ultimate perfectionist.  He wants the story that He writes on us to be absolutely perfect. That doesn’t mean that we are or that we can even hope to be, that means that, in the end, that story is going to say exactly what He wants it to say, exactly the way He wants it said.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that there is not a single person (fully flesh and blood – lest any of you smart alecks out there correct me by shouting out “Jesus!”)  alive or dead that has lived a “perfect” life. Give me a name of someone that you admire and that inspires you and you will find that the very thing that makes them do so is the muck and mire that they were given the grace to fight through. It isn’t that their lives were perfect that draws you to them…it is the very fact that somehow, someway Christ took those imperfections and made them perfectly beautiful.

It isn’t the blemishes, the typos, the insurrections that define us or the story of our lives, it is the way in which we allow Him to edit them.

And the key here is that He edits.

I had something happen recently that quite honestly pissed me off. (Yes, mom, I realize that is strong language, but that’s how I felt.) Satan got a hold of me, pulled me into some grief, some sin, some sadness with my own rope, and I was ticked! How dare he? I was determined to set it right, so after Christ in His great mercy reached down into the pit to rescue me, I grabbed the rope intended for my harm and made a lasso, determined to capture the trapper. (Hmmmm…any guess as to how that turned out? Yep. Snared again.) I literally gave him one more chance to stick it to me…and believe me, it stuck. Like a pin to my already severely deflated spirit. Christ had to rescue me again.

Proofing. It’s important to Him. SO important that He says, “Let Me die for you.” He died. We know this. We’ve seen the pictures, heard the sermons, watched the Passion of the Christ and wept, but have we really captured the amazing truth that He died for “me?” After I was rescued out of that pit, the second snare of the eternally evil one, I knew it without a doubt. It was fixed on my heart with a pen that couldn’t be washed away. No more doubts. He finished it.

Proofing. I tried to proof my own life. Find the caves and the traps, looking to keep myself from falling into temptation. I failed miserably. And the amazing thing is that the very thing that I had created as a “wall” a “coping mechanism” a “boundary” became the very thing that did me in…because it was me. My walls are thin and my boundaries move.

Proofing. It’s important to Him. He doesn’t want satan to get the victory anymore than we want him to get it, and here’s the thing: He settled that, too. We don’t have to edit our mistakes so that God gets the glory…we just simpy glorify God as He edits our mistakes. I had it backward. I was doing the edits and, in effect, taking back control. He says, “Give me all your imperfections, those things that hold you back, those things that are burdening you and worrying you, give them to Me.” He wants them. He knows that you can’t handle them, fix them, or cope. He is the red pen, holding an inkwell of blood that corrects the ugliest of mistakes.

Proofing. It’s never complete. Get that in your mind now, and settle it in your heart. Until you breathe your final breath and your heart surges one last beat, the editing continues. Aren’t you glad? He’s not finished with you, yet. 🙂

I still shudder when I think about the door slamming and my daughter yelling, “I HATE YOUR FACE!” She wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to her older sister. And it pains me, deeply.

It pains me that she didn’t think twice before saying it, or that we could tell anyway. It pains me that it was filled with such venom and hatred that I wondered where my little angel flew off to and when this minion from the nether regions appeared. It pains me that it was her first response to a very simple solution.

They were playing Barbies. It’s their favorite thing to do together, and they can enjoy it for hours. But yesterday it ended in tragedy. Apparently Ken was needed as the husband for Vet Barbie and Fashion Barbie was sitting too close. My older daughter in an attempt to fix the situation grabbed another Ken (Prince Antonio) and put him in the mix. No stinkin’ way! Vet Barbie was blonde, and she had to be married to the blonde Ken! No other situation would do, no matter what the rationalization, and it all ended with a ripped off Ken head, a slammed door, and those very painful words.

As a parent, I rushed in to try and remedy the situation. Assuage the tears and pain of one and correct the wrath of the other. In time, they came back together. A hug and a kiss and a promise brought the sisters back into the love that they truly felt when their emotions weren’t controlling them. But, I don’t think they have forgotten. I think the words, “I hate your face!” have staying power. It hurts me.

I started thinking about my own outbursts. Maybe I hadn’t said, “I hate your face!” but I’d said, “I’m disappointed in you.” And, “You’re acting stupid!” And, “I hope you fail!” Yep. Those were my words to my sisters. And perhaps the worst, the “I hate your face!” moment was when I looked in the scared eyes of my young, pregnant sister and yelled, “I hope your baby’s deformed!” Ugh. Still hurts to hear my past. Luckily, she forgave me and my precious neice was perfectly healthy…but the words were said.

I wish I could take back many things. I wish that I would have appreciated my sisters for what they are: incredible creations of God, deeply loved and worthy and precious. The pain I felt when I heard my daughter’s words must mirror the pain God feels when we murder each other with our words.

“I hate your face!” and God says, “I made that face.” “Your acting stupid!” and God says, “Like you never do?” “I hope you fail!” and God says, “I desire good things for you!” And to that horrible curse, uttered from a selfish heart and an injured ego, He says, “Before you were put together in your mother’s womb, I chose you.”

You see. That’s why we are told to “Be slow to anger and slow to SPEAK.” Words injure deeply. He knows this. Words carelessly spoken, have the power to break the spirit and sever the heart. I didn’t have to hear from my older daughter’s mouth how painful those words were to her; I could see it in the tears in her eyes, and feel it in quiver of her puckered lips. “I hate your face!” Those are words reserved for one and one alone – satan. Everyone else is worthy of far better, so much more…words of love and encouragement and inspiration…even the worst of criminals and the ugliest of sins. God’s love is greater than any of that.

Can you imagine the difference if my little girl would have dropped the insignificant Barbie, smiled at her older sister, squeezed her cheeks (because she does everything with such gusto!), kissed her and said, “I LOVE YOUR FACE!” Yeah, that would have been a much prettier moment for all of us.

I was reading in Matthew, and I was taken by storm… Or the disciples were and I learned a lesson? Anyway, I saw two very real scenarios of fear and two very real reactions.

The first scene we come upon is Jesus. He’s invited two more disciples to follow Him, and they take off on a boat ride across the sea. All of a sudden out of nowhere a storm attacks! The winds rage, the boat rocks, the lightening bolts, and several grown men, many of which have lived on the seas, freak out! “Jesus! Help us! Do something before we die!” I love the next moment. Jesus had been sleeping. He was not oblivious to their peril, but He had no fear. He wakes up, yawns and looks at the panicked faces around him and says, “Don’t be afraid.” Then, He turns His attention to the elements – the wind, the rain, the fire from the sky – and says, “Peace be still.” The storm ceases. Immediately. Jesus goes back to sleep while the disciples ponder yet again this Lord that they follow. “Who is this man that even the wind and waves obey him?” I want to say, “Well, Duh. He’s Jesus, Son of God. Power is His middle name and peace is His kingdom.” But I wasn’t there, and since I’m a woman they wouldn’t have listened. 😉

The second scene involves many of the same players; add two demoniacs and some pigherders. Jesus comes upon a demon possessed man (or two according to Mark and Luke) that lives in the caves. A man so violent that he cannot live around people, and he cuts himself with stones… The townspeople and, no doubt the local pigsherders, are afraid of these men. The demons see Jesus coming a mile away! After all, they recognize their God, and they know their fate; so immediately they begin bargaining. “Please Master! Don’t let us be wandering spirits without a home; put us in the pigs!” Seems like a bazaar request and yet, He grants it. He casts the demons into the 2000 pigs grazing in the hillside. Interesting day for the pigsherders, no doubt! Next thing they know, their pigs are flying off the cliff, and their collecting unemployment. The freed men/or man rejoice, begin to talk intelligently and recover their dignity while the pigherders run off in fear! “Havila! You won’t believe it! Some man was talking to the crazy mountain men and before I knew what was happening my pigs jumped off a cliff!” Of course, Havila tells Sukka and Sukka tells Salome and before you know it the whole town is running in fear! “Who is this man that even the demons obey Him!” Again, I could interject, but that would require time travel and could result in a fatal stoning so I’ll just keep writing. 😉

Here’s where the two scenarios divulge… Again. In the first story, the men are filled with fear and they request the help of their Savior. He’s faithful; He saves them from the storm. In the second story, the pigsherders are filled with fear, too. They have seen the unexpected, the frankly unbelievable and they run! But they do more than that. They do something tragic. They reject their Savior. After running around the town spreading the fear and the fever, they gather around Jesus and tell Him to leave.

My heart grieves at that. There is no telling the healing, the help, the peace Jesus could have left for that town, but fear kept them from seeking anything! His power frightened them when He wanted it to free them. I’m sure the disciples followed Jesus outside of town in disbelief! They had the Son of God available to them and they pushed Him away like a giant smelly ogre! What were they thinking?!

They were thinking many things, I’m sure. But they were thinking with their emotions and not their souls. They were thinking with their fearful flesh, and their flesh sold them out. It will. Everytime. How many times do I allow my emotions to get the better of my faith? I’ve seen Him do the miraculous for others. Why can’t I see the miracles He has for me? And in fear, my emotions spiral quickly away from Him and deep into an abyss of self and pride. And I’m enslaved to what might have been. Today’s scripture reminds me, when those moments of fear surface and threaten to overwhelm me, I have two choices: request or reject. Sleep or run. I think I’ll sleep. Running takes too long and gets me nowhere. In fact, if I’d been one of the demoniacs? I’d have high tailed it out of town; better to sleep in the dust at Jesus feet than have to lay with one eye open every night in the finest hotel of the Gadarenes!