Being Hungry for God's Glory {Fasting & Prayer}

The role of our prayers on earth are able to invoke the power of God from heaven. -Norm Rasmussen

--

My first memory of fasting was joining in with the rest of my youth group in middle school to do the 30-Hour Famine, though sadly, I was less concerned about worldwide hunger and praying on its behalf and more focused on counting down until I could indulge in whatever my mind was craving.  I didn't get the point.  And I certainly didn't believe in the power of prayer combined with fasting.

Fasting is simply human weakness deferring to God's strength.  It does not come naturally to me to deny myself food (or much, for that matter) and put God and His interests ahead of my own.

I've often felt that I pray half-heartedly or without belief.  I forget who I am appealing to!  It's easy to let life distract me and forget that I am calling on Almighty God.  I don't want my limp prayers to bounce back at me.  I want God's power to be released and accomplish much.

For me, fasting seems to draw me nearer to the heart of God and it intensifies my time in prayer.  When I get stuck spiritually, it debunks my unbelief.  It breaks through when prayer doesn't seem to be working on its own.  It signifies that I can't do it on my own and that I need God's intervention in my life.

For the prayers of a righteous man are both powerful and effective.  James 5:16

But God--The Two Words At the Heart of the Gospel

I have really been soaking in Scripture lately, especially the multitude of verses that begin with "but God."  They remind me that throughout the past and now during the present, while humanity lives in darkness, He steps in, extending grace and compassion.  It is God who reaches out to us.

When I come across a verse in the Bible that has "but God" in it, I always circle it because it is fantastically good news to me.  You see, my life could never measure up.  I am naturally inclined to live a life of evil.

Once I was dead in my sin.  But God made me alive!

Once I was captive to Satan.  But God made me free!

Eph. 2:4-7

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

Rom. 5:8

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this--while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

But God...the two words at the heart of the Gospel.

I Am A Whore. {But God}

How many times do I run away from the Lover of my soul back to things that satisfy my sinful nature?  Over and over and over and over I reject God, yet He welcomes me back.

Adultery is one of the most destructive things a human can ever take part in.  It produces in us a greater despair than what we know.  That's basically what I'm taking part in when I choose other 'lovers,' or things over my God.

There's a story in the Bible about a highly respected, holy man (a prophet) named Hosea.  God told him to marry a prostitute.  That's ridiculous, right?  This woman was a whore.  She rejected her husband's love and went to other lovers over and over again.  But Hosea stood  firm and did not relent in pursuing his wife.

This story is about me, ya'll!  It tells me that I am rotten to the core.  But God has extended to me His unfailing love.  It is bountiful and beautiful and life-giving.  And regardless of how many times I screw up, my Father does not relent in pursuing me.

Why do I try to fill my heart with things not of God?  Only He can fill it.
(Ecc. 3:10) He has put eternity into the heart of man.

I desire to chase after only the affection of Christ.  No other thing.

Knowing God and being in relationship with Him is the only thing that will meet and satisfy the deepest longing of my heart, the deepest need of my soul

Why I Hate Religion

The Gift of Gifts

The Progression of a Quiet Time

Quiet Time:  a 'Christianese' term for a time set aside reading the Bible, praying, and listening to God; being quiet in His presence so that we can hear from Him.

I try to have a QT every day.  Why?  Because it's a moment focusing simply on the relationship I have with my Creator.  It centers me.  It reminds me of Whose I am and who I am.  When my life is in order, I usually get up early before the kids in the morning to do it.  When my life is not in order (which is most of the time), I squeeze it in during nap time or during breakfast, doing it in front of the girls while they eat.  It looks different every day.  Some times I just read, just write, just pray, or am just quiet before Him.

Last Monday I spent it soaking in the lyrics of the Christmas song, O Holy Night.  Some powerful lines that popped out to me:  The weary soul rejoices.  His law is love.  His Gospel is peace.  In His name all oppression shall cease.

I then moved on to study the lyrics of my all-time favorite hymn, It Is Well With My Soul.  What makes it my favorite is the story behind the words.  Have you read about it?

The gist is that the writer endured many trials.  His 4-year old son died of Scarlet fever.  His heavily invested real estate properties were completely destroyed in the Great Chicago Fire.  His wife and four daughters set sail on a ship that collided with another, resulting in the death of his girls.  He received a telegram from his wife that said, "Saved alone."  Upon hearing this news, his heart cried out and he penned the powerfully written song.  The first verse is amazing, considering it was the ocean waters and storm that overtook his daughters. 

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul. 

Chorus:

It is well, with my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Pretty incredible, right?  No matter life's circumstances, I want the echo of my heart to be "Praise the Lord, O my soul." (Ps. 146:1)

Why I Run {This Is Church}

When picking up the race packet at the Expo on Saturday, I found a booth that was asking people to write down their reason that they run and say it in front of a camera for the news.  Why do I run?  That seemed like such a deep question to answer so quickly.  There are so many reasons.  I have to pick just one?  Because I was with a friend and we were headed out, I wrote down the first one that came to mind, but I've been camping out on this question all weekend.

Yes, one reason I run is to set an example of a healthy, active lifestyle and be a role model for my daughters.  If momma is healthy and happy, then that's a good recipe for teaching the daughters to be so, right?  I want them to grow up thinking it is normal and fun be physically active.  I want them to not be afraid to get dirty and sweat hard.  I want them to enjoy moving and exercise.  I don't want it to be a rigid, legalistic thing but more so something that is innately ingrained in how they live their lives.  They don't write "exercise" on their calendars, but instead head out for a run in between homework and TV because it matters to them and makes them feel alive and good.

But there are other reasons, too.

One thing I love about running is that it's just me and the road.  There is no one helping me or hindering me.  I've* got to come up with the strength and drive to do it.

It is the best mental release I've found.  With music or without, I zone out from mommy-hood, life's problems, and all other worries.  It gives me emotional balance.

I love that I don't have to watch what I eat.  It's worth it for that alone.

It makes me feel strong, empowered, and motivated in life.

It really feels good to know that I am taking care of my heart, lungs, and muscles.

When I am out on a run, I often get to a place where it just feels holy.  I don't have any other explanation except that I feel that it honors God.  Perhaps it's tapping into the way He created humanity to be; physically using our bodies and doing hard work.  When I am pushing myself and sweating, I often tell Him "Thank You, God, for creating my body to work hard."  I love experiencing a life opposite of laziness.  It makes me feel alive.  And it makes me feel closer to God.  There's something about the stillness when it's just me and the road.  Using my body in this way, I have experienced worship on a whole new level, and on those runs, I feel, this is church.

Christ in me, cuz really, I'm nothing without Him.

Believing The Best In Our Kids

I'm not sure typically when the "Terrible Twos" stage really starts, but we have already seen glimpses of a tantrum-throwing toddler inhabiting the body of our sweet girl.  We have days that I wish we could do all over again because the whole day was just wrong in attitude and heart.  But sadly, those do-overs are desired more so because of the way that I handle the frenzy.  I don't know when I started assuming that my daughter and I were enemies on those days.  I have to remind myself often that she has only been alive for 2 years.  She is merely a babe.  She is in the midst of figuring out life; how to behave in social settings, how to make decisions, how to react to others.  She is learning and growing and experiencing things for the first time.

Recently I came upon yet another amazing post by this lady that just stopped me in my track.  I had to read it out loud, then read it to my husband, then read it again.  I want to print it off and hand-deliver it to all my mom friends for Christmas.  It's not everyday you read something so moving.

To even write these words, I have to assume that she spends a heck of a lot of time inhaling Scripture because where she's arrived in her thought process is just so full of wisdom to be from any self-help or parenting book.  These are her words, not mine.

_________

The practice of assigning positive intent is, as Fancy Nancy would say, just a fancy way of saying "believe the best." I try to make my starting point for the day a belief in their goodness, in their love for each other and for our family, in the work that we have already done together towards wholeness.

So when things go pear-shaped, instead of assuming that they are manipulative little buggers out to get their way and rule us all, I choose to believe that their heart is as much for me as mine is for them.

A small example: When Joe was quite a small toddler, I met a scene from a mother-horror movie when I went to wake him from a nap. There was excrement everywhere - on the walls, on the sheets, in his hair. He was rubbing it with his stuffed animals, spreading it everywhere. Part of me wanted to holler at him: WHAT THE CRAP ARE YOU DOING? (Pun unintended, I assure you.)  This was unbelievably gross, he had probably pulled that diaper off himself and was now gleefully making a mess on purpose, painting with it. But then I realized that he was sick, his diaper had been insufficient for the experience and he was actually making an attempt to clean it up. His intent was positive even if the results were, um, absolutely disgusting.

I try to operate from the standpoint that they want to be good and my job is to help them navigate, with grace, the mistakes and missteps that naturally come with the enormous job of growing up to love God and love people well.

I enjoy mothering so much more if I believe we're all on the same side. It's not us vs. them in the war of the family. My role here is to help them learn and so if I try to assume that they truly don't know yet or are still figuring it out. (But even if they are trying to be bad, even if it is manipulation, few people are not disarmed by innocence. And that includes my tinies. If they do something wrong on purpose, gentleness goes a long way to bringing them back to right living, reconciling them with us and God, much farther than bellowing and isolation and fury.)

When I assign positive intent, I have much more grace, patience and gentleness to offer and I believe that they can sense this change of perspective. It moves us from adversaries to partners or co-operators in their wholeness. But, on the other hand, if I operate from the starting point that they are out to take a mile if I give an inch that is one sure way to make the days very, very, very long.

I enjoy mothering when I believe and hope and love in their personhood. I enjoy my tinies when I notice and talk about the things that are noble, pure, beautiful and good about them. I enjoy mothering when I remember that they really, truly don't know everything yet, that most of my expectations come with development, and my job is to really, truly, teach them well.

They will learn the big nouns of love, grace, forgiveness, mercy and peace in the way that I handle the small verbs and actions of our life together. And so will I. (I have so much to learn.)

So even if the action is wrong or infuriating, unless otherwise proven, assume that their heart is to love, to please, to help and learn the right way from you.

_________

These words have changed me.  They have given me a much-needed redirection of perspective.  Makes me excited to meet my little girl in the morning and do life with her again, realizing that we are not adversaries on those tough days.  On the contrary, she is my sweet, little girl that I get to teach and help mold.  What a huge responsibility.

Selfishness 101

I am thankful for the ebb and flow, but seriously, I don't think this parenting thing gets any easier, no matter how long you've been at it or how many times you've done it.  For me, nothing in life has brought about more sanctification than through marriage and raising kids.  If you wanna look more like Jesus, say "I do," and live with that person everyday for the rest of your life.  That's sure to show you some character flaws.  If you want to know how imperfect you are, raise some kids that stare at you in the face like little mirrors that reflect the condition of your heart.  It ain't always pretty, that's for sure.

Today I am working through some devil in me.

I came to a conclusion this morning on my run.  An ugly one at that.

When it's easy, I am an excellent mom.  But when it's hard, I am terrible mom.

When we've got the routine down, the kids are sleeping well, eating well, playing hard, obeying, learning quickly, not teething, not fighting, and not sick--life is good.  I feel like I am in my element as a mom.  I enjoy waking up and doing it over again the next day.

But.  When shit hits the fan control (and comfort and routine and stability) are out the window, I realize that I like motherhood a whole lot less.  I love my children, don't get me wrong, but what starts creeping up in me gets pretty ugly pretty fast.  It all boils down to my selfish heart.

Selfishness steals joy.  I've been acting like life is about my kingdom, not God's.

Love does not easily anger.  (1 Cor. 13:5)  In my head today has been the phrase, "Angry parents breed angry children."  If that's the case, Lord help them.

Rather abrupt ending perhaps, but right now I have no other consolation.

If after reading this you want to call CPS, I'll understand.  In the meantime, I'll be pleading for more of God, less of me.  That same prayer I've prayed a million times, but the one I'll keep on saying.

On Mindless Eating

When running a half marathon last year, one of the most encouraging things about the race was all the people on the sidelines cheering me on along the way.  Sure, they didn't know my name and I didn't know them, but they were out there to support somebody and I soaked in their applause and cheers as if it were meant for me.  Some held signs on poster boards, encouraging the runners.  "You trained for this!"  "You got this, girl!"  "Make this race your bitch!" < - - Quite frankly my favorite one.  They gave me so much inspiration (and laughter) that it was easier to finish the race because they reminded me that I believed in myself, and yes, I could do it.

You shall have no other gods before me.  -Exodus 20:3

Recently I have admitted to myself that I have used food as an idol.  How does that play out in my life?  I am a mindless eater.  I don't do a very good job watching the amount that I eat or listening to my stomach to stop eating once it's satisfied.  I eat without much thought sometimes, probably a glazed look over my face, not even realizing what I'm doing.  Snacking here, snacking there.  It doesn't seem like it would add up to much, but at the end of the day, I feel sluggish and bloated.  I don't think that's how God intends for us to take care of ourselves.  After all, we are His temple.  I think He wants us to choose wholesome fuel so that we can be productive and efficient for His Kingdom.  Eating right and being physically active makes me not only feel good, but it makes a spiritual connection for me, too.  You see, I feel worshipful when I practice self control (one of the fruits of the Spirit).  Instead of indulging myself, I have been making a mental effort to choose Christ.  He alone satisfies.

I don't desire to be skinny.  I just want to take care of the hot body that God has already given me.

I refuse to eat all that low-fat crap.  It's fake anyway.  I choose real food; eating less and moving more.

(On a side note, I think God has given us wonderfully diverse food to enjoy and sustain us.  I just go a little far with the enjoyment part.)

I don't want food to be a god in my life.  Can you identify?  If you're in this race with me, here are some signs along the way to cheer us on.

Ick, That Feeling In My Heart.

I met up with some friends tonight at a nearby dog park to let our pups sniff butts and hump each other.  We chatted until it got dark and slowly meandered our way back to our cars to head home.  While driving away, there was this sickening feeling in my heart and it did not resonate well with me.  I had to shoot out an email to them once I got home because I identified that feeling as sin.  You see, while it may have seemed like innocent 'catching up,' my psyche was desperately desiring some praise from women.  I told how awesome potty training has been so far, how awesome it is that I walk my dog so frequently, how awesome work has been for me, and (the kicker) how awesome my quiet time in God's Word has been lately.  I was gloating on myself to get some recognition from my friends, to lift up myself, and to ultimately bring myself glory.  How ugly is that?  For they loved the approval of man more than the approval of God. (John 12:43)  Yep, that was me tonight, folks.  Thankfully, I have loving friends who forgive and are willing to look past it and not write me off as a self-centered, gloating bag of poop.  (Picking up dog doo-doo at park + dookie in Vera's little potty = poop on the brain)  Moreso, I am incredibly grateful for God's continual redemption in my life.  I loved being reminded on Sunday that there is nothing I can do to become separated from the love of Christ (Romans 8:39).  There is nothing I can do to make God love me more.  And get this, there's nothing I can do to make God love me less.  Nothing.

On My Knees and Out of Luck, I Look Up

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F.A.T. 

(Sorry, Steph, I didn't have a group picture with all of us...had to steal one off your Facebook and figured I'd pick a good one!) 

That is, our humorously coined acronym for Fostering and Adopting Together.  The ironic thing is, I am neither fostering nor adopting right now, but these girls are and I've somehow happened upon their group and get to be invited to all their fun gatherings.  It's nothing official, really.  We just meet, eat great food, hang out, and talk about our families.  Tonight we met at a friend's house who will be bringing home their fresh-out-of-the-womb, adopted baby boy.  We wanted to shower their home with some love and prayer before they arrive tomorrow.

I truly, truly feel blessed to be among these gals.  I wonder why I am even in 'their group' sometimes.  I think it started one time with the default that we all love homemade, fresh, real, delicious, beautiful-looking food...and somehow we all just kept meeting and eating together and it formed a friendship.  A God-inspired one, in fact.

You see, there's something about this group of girls.  Regarding motherhood, life, and faith...they are raw, and that is refreshing.  During our get-togethers, we often find ourselves confessing out loud over lots of red wine ways we feel like we failed that day as a parent.  We admit that we make mistakes.  We admit acting out of selfishness.  We admit giving the Devil a foothold and choosing our flesh over our spirit.

It's refreshing to me because I realize that I am not the only one.  We are broken, dirty, and will always choose ourselves over anything else without Christ.  But among these sisters of mine, I am reminded that we are all in this battle together.  They encourage me to joyfully place God before anything else in my life.

I love these gals, and though we all live in different parts of Austin, it's always such a joy to get together with them.  I figure I will learn as much as possible from there mistakes, ha! before we are in a similar position.  I am just thankful for such encouraging friends who exhort, correct, and give me tough love when I need it.

Nothing in my life has brought about more sanctification than through marriage and parenting.  Motherhood is hard. Today was hard.  Tomorrow might be another hard day, too.  But if it presents more opportunities for God to work on me, then by all means.  I don't pretend to have any answers.  I am on my knees in prayer A.LOT.  I heard a phrase once that has always stuck out in my head--to look up and not sideways.  God has the answers, not the world.

--

What's something you battle on a daily basis?

*Bonus points if you can guess from whom's lyrics is this post's title.

Farther Along; Josh Garrels

"I wonder why the good man dies, the bad man thrives and Jesus cries because He loves them both"

Shame On Me, I'd Forgotten.

I'm reading "Heaven Is For Real," and it's good.  I'm only half way through, but mostly it has convicted me that I had forgotten the power of prayer.  How could I have forgotten, though?  Throughout my life, God has answered me on countless occasions, always taking care of me, always providing, always drawing me closer to Him.  But amidst life, it happened.

This book has brought me to my knees on a nightly basis on the floor of my girls' bedroom.  As they are sleeping, softly breathing in and out, I battle for them before the Lord laying prostrate before Him.  I beg God to give them the gift of salvation, most of all.  I ask for Him to give me wisdom in how I parent, to give me patience and love when I am lacking.  I pray that unity would be the testimony of our family.  I tell God all the ways I fell short of living righteously that day, describing the sin that was in my heart, even if on the outside I seemed put together.  

Prayer is for real.

What do you pray about?  Or do you do pray at all?

163 lbs. and Feeling Pretty Damn Good

I am so not ashamed to type that title and for that, all glory to God.  A good friend sent me this article today and every word resonated with me. (Please read. It's that good.)

Last weekend I went to a clothing exchange.  Are you familiar?  You bring your load of unwanted items that you no longer wear; clothes, accessories, shoes, etc.  You get rid of your stuff and come home with new-to-you items.  It was kind of a sucky day for me.  I showed up and instantly realized I was 'the big girl' as I walked in.  I felt like I really stuck out, and how unfortunate for me that I was attending a clothing exchange.  While there, I even had thoughts about how to write a humorous blog post about how to endure a clothing exchange as the big girl--come home with a pair of shoes, nail polish, jewelry, and a hat.  Which is exactly what I got out of it.  Most of the pants I looked through--size 0-5.  Shirts?  Smalls or mediums.  Certainly not big enough for a breastfeeding gal, let alone someone who has my size "girls."  I hadn't spent much time at home thinking about what to wear, but when I left, I felt pretty cute in the outfit I'd picked.  Funny how things change when you're in a certain environment.  When I was there, I looked down at myself and thought, "Who wears jean shorts anymore?  What was I thinking wearing a tank top that exposes my arms?  I shouldn't have worn flip flops."  I left the clothing exchange feeling really down.  I tried to make light of it, but really, I was feeling so insecure and ugly.

Until I got home.  (Thank You, Jesus.)  My husband loves me so much and I know without a doubt that he genuinely thinks I am a beautiful woman.  And what's funny is that I actually feel pretty good in my skin.  I'm back at it with the running and go to the gym 5-6 days a week.  (A little excessive perhaps, but I truly look forward to it every day.)  I'm training for another half marathon, go to a weight lifting class twice a week, and walk my dog everyday.  I'm an active person.  I enjoy moving and love being healthy.  This doesn't mean I am a calorie counter by any means.  I eat with gusto and enjoy food, and for the most part make healthy choices.  But I'm still a size 12.  Sure, I've got some baby weight I'd like to lose and am not back at my original weight, but I feel good.  I feel really good.

I refuse to be a slave to this world's messed up ideals of beauty.  Why should I let it bring me down?  Can I have permission to go against the grain on this?  To rebel against society's brainwashing?  I don't want to live my life (the only one I will ever have) obsessing about my reflection.  I don't want to spend my days always projecting what I want to look like in the future.  I don't want to wake up a 45 year old one day and still be battling the same issues I dealt with as a 15 year old.  Give me freedom, Jesus.  Let me embrace who I am and be proud because I am your girl.  If I don't, I rob God of His glory.  I spit in His face because I don't think He did a good enough job being Creator.

It's Just a Piece of Glass

I've been reading a lot lately about the minds and character of girls.  It has been insightful, to say the least, since I am raising two really wonderful little ones of my own.  I adore them and think they are beautiful and want to teach them healthy self-image.  I want them to understand that in Christ alone are they fulfilled.  I want them to be able to discern lies and wickedness when they see it.  I want to teach them so much and while processing all this, I discover the dirt that's in my own heart.  How do I raise daughters in this world and protect them from all the crap?  I don't know the answer to that, but a glimpse of hope is that since my little girl watches every move I make, I know that I am able to influence her world.  "Because of that, I will resist ever speaking negatively about myself, especially in front of her.  I will be a size 12 or 8 or 4 proudly and confidently, proving that it's sexier than hell.  I will not tug at my swimsuit and will walk tall in the body God gave me.  I will easily change my clothes in front of their dad, proud of my stretch marks that gave us a family, of the breasts that nourished his babies.  I will eat dessert and raise my glass and laugh my way to deeper smile lines.  I will do my best to praise my girls for their mind, heart, and motives, as much as I praise them for their beauty."  I pray for God's help to help my daughters overcome all the struggles that lie ahead in a world that thinks you're only as good as you look.  After all, the mirror that we're all obsessed with...it's just a piece of glass.

from www.emergingmummy.com