Schizophrenic Faith

Schizophrenic Faith

“Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.” Hebrews 11:1

Definition: “Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe mental disorder that affects how a person thinks, feels, and behaves.”

Bear with me, please. Recently I spent time wrestling in prayer over a concern (aka worry). I started with complete trust in God over the situation, then found myself with the mindset—I’ve got to fix this. It came to me that—from Heaven’s view—I might appear to have “schizophrenic faith”. I know that is an oxymoron, but in my life, I have more often looked like Peter before Pentecost than after… “What was I thinking? Why did I feel like that? Why did I act like that?

As a believer in Jesus Christ, when I look at the waves in life, I can begin to sink back into old ways. Then, like Peter (blub, blub), I remember to cry out to the Lord.

There He is. God, himself, shows up with his hand extended once more. He is not huffing at me things like…what were you thinking…why did you feel and act like that?

Instead, what often “blows me away” is the love and undeserved grace extended by that nail-scarred hand.

When I am fixated on solving my own problems without consulting him, I become consumed with worry and—dare I say—a “demonic” drive to solve an issue or “get on a fast train to Georgia.” My powerless attempts threaten to suffocate me and I begin to gasp for the holy air of faith.

Neck deep in “hot water,” I finally get on my knees, bow and ask the keeper of the stars to right my world. And he does.

I am beginning to understand that position is key. Oh, not physically bowing, but bowing my heart and will to His sovereignty.

Be still and know that I am God!” Psalm 46:10

“Shut my mouth!” I am not God.

When I try to push against a falling mountain, I need to stop thinking I am the one who can hold it up. I need to stop thinking I’m the one who can change the heart of a prodigal who is straining to pull away from God, bridge the chasm of a broken marriage vow that registers 7.8 on the Richter scale of my heart, or the pain of an incomprehensible death of child or spouse.

My first response is to cave in, like the mountain, then the crushing blow begins to melt me like a long burning candle. That’s when I become pliable and ready to bend. If I rear up in resistance, I prolong the sweet surrender that acknowledges: only God can fix this.

Isn’t that why I felt such joy when I first heard He loved me so much that He sent his only Son to die for all of my sin and brokenness?

My mountain of sin and shame began to dissolve into the hands of Almighty God. My Savior, Jesus Christ, came to rescue me—not just for that moment of salvation—but for every broken moment I will face in my race of a lifetime.

Can you hear the gentle whisper when you bow? Sometimes I do. It is as if His warm, sweet breath is blowing peace over my soul.

This whisper sometimes proclaims loudly when I bow—I Am God, I will be exalted in the nations, and I will be exalted in you.

Wow! If the nations are just a speck of dirt, then I must be smaller than the tiniest atom. Yet, God’s vision is focused on me and my world.

Those who have run the race and are at the finish line (Hebrews 12) know this. They are jumping up and down, waving arms and shouting, “Keep in the race, Don’t quit, you’ve got this!”

It is all true. Jesus crossed the finish line first and He has you in the palm of His Hand.

He will give you what you need to faithfully finish the marathon of a lifetime for His glory. But you have to reach with faith for the baton. Take it, trusting Him to get you over the falling hills of life onto the path of righteousness again. Remember—as New Bailey so helpfully taught, “Faith is not a feeling”. Faith is a choice—no matter how you feel.

Choose to believe…

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

Paul was inspired by God to write this. You have God’s word on it. You can—and I can—do all things through Jesus Christ, who will strengthen us.

by Darla J. Short-Lewis

Behind the Veil

Behind the Veil

“There He was transfigured before them.” Mark 9:2b

Several months ago, I had a small mole removed off my cheek for fear that it might be pre-cancerous (praise God, it was not!). The removal required a few stiches, ointment and a bandage. It wasn’t too big of a deal beside the fact that it was on my face! And despite its small size and relative quick healing, I was still very conscious of it being noticed.

Isn’t it true that we are so aware of how we present ourselves to the world? We don’t want anything to draw attention to us or call out our differences, least of all in the way we look.

Jesus was very different from all other men. He was and is the eternal King and immortal Lord, manifesting the invisible God! He became a man so that we might actually gaze upon Almighty God, who lives in unapproachable light.* I once heard His incarnation described as “the exact nature of God’s character stamped into human flesh.”

“The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.” Hebrews 1:3a

All of the glory, beauty and radiance of God contained in a humble human body. The Word of God made flesh. According to what we read in Isaiah, his appearance as a man was humble indeed:

“He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire Him.” Isaiah 53:2b

But here, in our story from Mark, we read how Jesus allowed Peter, James and John a brief glimpse beneath his human “veil” at the glory contained therein. According to Matthew’s account, Jesus was transformed before them and his face shone brighter than the sun. Upon seeing this, the disciples became terrified. Much later in his life, John had another similar experience, and described Jesus as such:

“His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, And his eyes were like blazing fire.” Revelation 1:14

Just as Christ’s human appearance belied his God-nature, so, too, may our outer appearance belie our own Christ-likeness. In his letter to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 9:18-22), Paul encourages believers to “become all things to all men” for “the good of many so they may be saved.” While we may—and should—appear like others in so many ways in this life, there is a difference in us that we should not be ashamed of—a difference that we should embrace and aspire to. When the people all around us get a glimpse beneath our veils, pray that they would see our Savior’s glory being reflected in us.

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:18

by Siara Borning

*excerpt taken from Pastor Bob’s sermon, “Christ Alone,” March 10, 2019

It Is Brave To Ask For Help

It Is Brave To Ask For Help

“Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me; O LORD, make haste to help me.” Psalm 40:13

We call it, “The Dark Hole of our Marriage.” I was thirty and had birthed three kids in 2 ½ years. Everyone around me was a total jerk. Everyone. Other mammas, my mirror, the mailman, and especially that speed-walker dude on Kellogg. Trust me—but don’t trust me. I hadn’t slept and each day was a blur of diapers, feedings and potty accidents.

It wasn’t until I was thirty-three that I began to feel a bit human again. Kids were sleeping more—playing in the toilet less. I finally understood—maybe everyone around me wasn’t really a jerk. Maybe the honking lady in the Sprouts parking lot truly cared my baby was rolling away with my shopping cart. Maybe.

Perhaps, they were just offering an oxygen mask to a suffocating girl.

Life’s truly a canvas of mountains and valleys. One of the greatest dangers for extreme mountain climbers is lack of oxygen to the brain. When this happens, they get disoriented and can’t think clearly (Hello, motherhood!). They become incapable of ascending or descending the mountain alone. A fellow climber must place their own oxygen mask over the climber’s mouth and physically help them down.

This is how God designed fellowship to work. Because we all have ‘mountains’ to climb, dear ones!

On some mountains, you’ll be stronger than me. Your faith won’t falter. You’ll have a week when all the kiddos are healthy, and you’ve had bunches of quiet time with Jesus. Your oxygen tank will be 100% full with a backup in the mini-van.

On other climbs, I might be honking at your kiddo in a runaway shopping cart.

But what is our spiritual oxygen tank filled with? Encouragement? Wise words? Dinner on the doorstep?

All of these are precious and certainly loving. But we’re talking about our sisters suffocating! I don’t care how epic your baked pasta dish is, it’s not going to cut it.

Two things are made from the breath of God in the Bible: Mankind (Genesis 2:7), and God’s word (1 Timothy 3:16).

This is no coincidence. When our spirits are gasping for air, we need the breath of God’s word poured into us. But what happens when we’re too worn out to lift relief to our lips? You’re not the only gal who struggles to find time to read God’s word. But you don’t need to collapse on the trail and declare it hopeless.

Look around for other climbers—other believers. Use what’s left in your lungs to cry out, “Someone, please speak the word of God over my life right now!”

This is not shameful. This is brave.

Your life, your children, your marriage, your sanity—in some way—depend on your ability to recognize you’re too exhausted to ascend higher by yourself. Some days, we’ll need a sister to hoist us up, press the word of God upon our lips and carry us straight to Jesus.

And if this isn’t you right now, get ready for a search and rescue season. I guarantee there’s someone with an empty oxygen tank on your trail. Scoop them up, speak God’s truth into their life and take them to the King.

by Jenna Masters

Who Do You Say That I Am?

Who Do You Say That I Am?

“Jesus and his disciples left Galilee and went up to the villages near Caesarea Philippi. As they were walking along, he asked them, ‘Who do people say I am?’ ‘Well,’ they replied, ‘some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other prophets.’ Then he asked them, ‘But who do you say I am?’ Peter replied, ‘You are the Messiah.” Mark 8:27-29

In Chapter eight of Mark we’ve seen Jesus show compassion upon a hungry crowd, exasperation with the Pharisees who demanded a miraculous sign, and dismay with the disciples who had done miracles on their missionary journeys in Chapter seven, but were now worried over not having enough bread for themselves. They still didn’t see what he was trying to teach them.

As if to underscore that point, Jesus then healed a blind man, not immediately, but in stages. First he led him from the village. Then he gave him partial vision. Finally, he instructed the man to ‘look up’ and he opened the man’s eyes, giving him instant complete vision. What an example to the disciples, if only they would get it. They were still seeing through the eyes of the world. If only they would look up—to the heavenly perspective—their understanding would be opened and their vision would be sharp.

As the disciples walked with Jesus to the area of Caesarea Philippi, he posed a question—a question that would lead to the ultimate choice set before mankind—”who do you say that I am?”

Who do You say that Jesus is? Do you think of him as someone from the Bible accounts, a character from a book of myths? Someone whose status is debatable? Or…do you believe him when he says:

“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

He hasn’t left us any wiggle room. Either he is who he says he is…
the messiah who fulfills all the Old Testament prophecies, proven by his miraculous works…
the Lamb of God offering to lay down his sinless life for you and me…
the only way we may be accepted by God and set free from the chains of sin…

Or…

he is—at best—delusional and mentally ill… 
or—at worst—a liar and deceiver.

Have you chosen to believe he is Messiah, the true representation of Holy God, worker of miracles? Then don’t settle for cloudy vision. Look up. Be lifted up to a heavenly perspective.

When you look down on your circumstances through the eyes of Jesus, you will see that he doesn’t abandon you in tough times, but comforts and sustains you—with miracles, if necessary.. He doesn’t leave you to walk through loss without his promise to somehow work out good in your life. He doesn’t allow you to be hungry without bringing satisfaction from the bread of life and living water. 

Like Peter, when we confess our faith in who Jesus is, we are stones standing upon the Rock, God’s Messiah. It is this confession of faith which brings us into the church—the called out ones and family of God—and no power can overcome us.

…and upon this rock I will build my church and all the powers of hell will not conquer it.” Matthew 16:18

by Marilyn Allison



 

Joy At the Chapel

Joy At the Chapel

“And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today. Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up.” Deuteronomy 6:6-7

Laughter, pure, and hearty. You know the kind—eye-watering, side-hurting-kind. Fourteen girls and boys in a small trailer—Chapel on Wheels. Their joy is infectious. Sometimes it’s nearly impossible to get them to sit quietly or still. But to have this time with them, we choose to do what we’re there to do and pray for the Lord to quiet their hearts.

The other day wasn’t a day for quietness. We had a Bible quiz—boys against girls. Question after question was asked, reviewing lessons in the Old and New Testaments. Candy was the prize and these amazing, funny kids were going for it.

The first round went to the boys, “Yeah!” You can just imagine what went on with that win. After a short lesson on how to be graceful winners they settled down. But, they did not stay on top.

The girls won round two. “Girls rule and boys drool.” By this time I was gasping for breath, The teacher and the other aide couldn’t hold their laughter either.

As I was driving back home I thought over that previous forty minutes. God never ceases to amaze me, teach me, grow me. His lesson for today: Lighten up Eve. So you couldn’t make it to the beach. For today, the time you spent with those boys and girls lightened your heart, just as time at the beach would.

It did.

“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” Psalm 16:11

by Eve Montano