From my 2016 Journal. I feel like I’ve been fighting fires for months—rows of houses are ablaze or burned to the ground, and I’m tired of holding the hose, climbing ladders, and rescuing people. I’m weary, and the fires keep spreading. I also see gleeful little gremlins throwing gasoline over the houses.
Lord, I need your help!
A strong wind blows the fire back on itself, and water from the sky douses the flames. But suddenly the scene shifts and my perspective changes. The water is actually coming from a watering can, and the blaze is no bigger than a campfire. I’m just a little ant, so everything looks enormous—unlike from God’s perspective. All my effort and fretting just made me tired.
And so I ask the Lord, “What is my role? Do You want me to hold fire hoses or stand back and watch you work?” I think of Moses who obediently went to Egypt, but it was God who did all the work once he arrived.
I’m tired before going to my next appointment.
“Just show up and obey My instructions,” He says. “And I’ll do the rest.”
Sometimes God makes appointments for us that aren’t penciled into the calendar. One day I had a lot of errands to run, and as I thought through the best route to take for the greatest efficiency and gas consumption, Wal-Mart came up first on my list. I parked the car, grabbed a cart, and “accidentally” met one of our clients coming out of the store. The look on her face was priceless, as she exclaimed, “I just prayed ten to fifteen minutes ago: Lord, I need to see Karen or Minna right now!” She was in crisis mode as she was on her way to a family member’s funeral.
And so God’s business was done in a makeshift office (her air-conditioned car in Wal-Mart’s parking lot) as we prayed together and she released her panic and dread to the Great Physician. “God is so good,” she kept reiterating. Indeed He is! Later she reported, “The funeral was amazing! No terror or panic. Just peace. I cannot thank you enough for following the leading of God and being there. I don’t know what I would have done.” There are truly no words to describe the love, mercy, and grace of our Father in heaven.
Another day, I walked into the dental office a few minutes early and sat in the waiting room. Immediately, the only other person in the room (an African-American man) turned to me and said, “I hate being here. I’ve served in the military and I’ve jumped out of airplanes, but I’m scared of a little ol’ dental appointment.”
“Why are you so fearful of it?” I asked.
Pause. “I’ll tell you why,” he replied. “When I was a little boy, my father had to wear dentures, and I remember the awful pain he had to go through.”
“Why was that so fearful to you?” I asked again.
He thought a moment. “Because I could imagine the tools the dentist had to use to extract his teeth.”
“What were you imagining?” I asked.
“A chisel and a screwdriver.”
And so I asked him gently, “Would you like me to pray with you?” His eyes lit up, he grabbed my hands, and exclaimed, “Sure!”
“Just look at the picture of the tools and focus on the fear,” I told him. And then I prayed, “Lord, what do You want to show this man in that picture?”
Immediately he relaxed. “He took them [the tools] away!”
“And how’s the fear now?”
“It’s gone! Wow!”
And then we had the sweetest time of fellowship, as he shared about his ministry to special-needs adults with a Christian organization down the street. The whole transaction maybe took all of ten to twelve minutes, but it was just long enough for God to jump in and do His miracle in this man’s heart.
From my 2013 Journal. I’ve always pictured Joshua, son of Nun, as a flawless character. But the Bible records one mistake that he made—a treaty with the Gibeonites (Joshua 9). Not an evil thing, not a disobedient decision, but a neglectful act: he forgot to consult with God.
This is a scary thought to me. I don’t (usually) blatantly sin, disobey, or rebel against God. But how often have I been neglectful, and—horrors—deceived. It happens to all of us. Joshua was one of the best—a man of faith, courage, and integrity. If he could be deceived, who am I to claim it will never happen to me?
Once Joshua realized his mistake, however, he rectified it.
He confronted the deceivers.
He kept his oath.
He found a creative way to redeem his error.
He learned from his mistake. He listened to God the next time!
God responded, “Don’t be afraid,” and then He gave the Israelites great victory over their enemies. God listened to Joshua’s prayer to make the sun stand still—a once-in-history experience.
There never has been a day like it before or since when the Lord listened to a man (Joshua 10:14).
Joshua’s story gives me hope. My mistakes do not have to define me or bind me.
From my 2015 Journal. With spring in the air, I grabbed my camera and set off for a walk in the woods with my Fitbit (a Christmas gift from my husband) secured to my shoelaces. At one point I left the path and tramped through some weeds to get a close-up photograph of a bird-shaped branch. When I returned to the path, chagrined, I discovered my shoelaces were untied. Though I retraced my steps, regrettably I could not locate my fitness tracker among the heavy, wet leaves. How could I admit to my dear husband that I’d lost his thoughtful gift?
I finished the trail and returned to the cabin where I was staying with some friends. They could tell I was upset, but I just shook my head when one of them offered to search for my missing device. “Impossible to find,” I said. But she insisted, so I told her the general direction I’d gone. About 20 minutes later, she returned with my Fitbit in hand. Astonished, I said, “How did you find it?”
“I just asked the Lord to tell me when to look down,” and when I heard, “Now!” there it was lying in plain sight on the path!”
This incident is a reminder to me that I am in God’s hands—every little detail of my life. If I had not found my device, His character would not have changed. But the blessing of finding it confirms that I’m His spoiled child. He delights in giving me good things.
From my 2012 Journal. Once I learn a perceived truth, I tend to filter all of life through that grid. For example, when I first learned about the benefits of homeopathic care, I shunned all allopathic doctors—until experience taught me that each has its merits for curing diseases.
One day I had a conversation with a gentleman who declared that the key to a child’s emotional health lies in his relationship with his father. This may be true in some or even in many instances, but not in all. It struck an emotional chord with him, however, and he began to take on some “shoulds.”
I’m currently reading When Helping Hurts by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert—a book on the subject of poverty and how not to hurt the poor in the midst of generous attempts to help. What strikes me is the matrix through which the authors view the subject—not that it’s wrong—but that all the verses and arguments are from one premise or topic. For example, the authors pose the question: Why were the Israelites sent into exile? “Idolatry” would be my immediate answer. But the authors concluded: because they didn’t properly care for the poor. Well . . . maybe . . . and that certainly could be part of the answer, but it’s not the only one (See Leviticus 26).
If I were writing a book about idolatry, I’d focus on that topic only and ignore the issue of caring for the poor. Or if I wrote a book on children or women or finances in the Bible, I’d examine all the Scriptures that pertain to just that topic. It’s normal to focus on one topic at a time—it’s all my brain can hold anyway—but I think I may develop tunnel vision in the process.
Grandma grid: My grandsons are the best!
Early in my ministry, TPM (Transformation Prayer Ministry) became my grid for all inner healing needs. While I was reading Boundariesby Cloud and Townsend, I started to view life through that filter. The founders of Temperament Analysis, Arno Profile System see every emotional solution through the grid of temperament needs.
Here are some grids for the topic of addiction.
The theologian calls it sin: stop doing it!
Solomon says it’s unwise: look at the consequences (Proverbs 23:29-35).
The counselor wants to know motive: why are you doing it?
The doctor suggests it’s a chemical imbalance: let’s help you detox.
The family says: you’re hurting me; you need help.
The addict says: I’m not hurting anyone but myself and I’m fine.
Whose grid is correct? The study of psychology, boundaries, codependency, temperament, TPM, or any other system or method (including a set of doctrines)—these are not the authentic answers to human needs.
So here’s where I struggle. Because of my profession and training, my grid tends to be too narrow. The worst part of it is, I’m always thinking, “You could be fixed . . . if only you had the set of keys that I have in my possession. These keys could help unlock the doors on your pain—but either you don’t want to use them, or you don’t know that they exist.” Truthfully, however, my tools are plastic. Jesus is the Master Key; only He can unlock every door. Only God sees the whole picture all at once. He knows every answer, nuance, and issue.
A 2021 Update: I’ve since added HeartSync Ministries to my toolbox. But even this grid is imperfect. Only Jesus has the perfect toolbox.
We don’t fit right because we were shaped for something else.
“Compassion fatigue” occurs when we become less willing to help—because the recipients of your help fail to improve.
We must differentiate between:
Relief (crisis from natural disaster)
Rehab (restoration to positive elements before crisis)
Development (process of ongoing change that moves all the people involved—both “helpers” and “the helped”—closer to being in right relationship with God, self, others, and creation.)
Don’t apply relief when development is needed!
Avoid paternalism—doing things for people that they can do for themselves.
We are not bringing Christ to poor communities. He has been active in these communities since the creation of the world, sustaining them by the power of His word (Heb. 1:3). Hence, a significant part of working in poor communities involves discovering and appreciating what God has been doing there for a long time!
Change begins when something triggers an individual or group to reflect upon their current situation and to think about a possible future situation that they would prefer.
Three common triggers:
A recent crisis
The burden of the status quo becoming so overwhelming that they want to pursue change
The introduction of a new way of doing or seeing things that can improve their lives.
“Never waste a crisis!”
Has anyone else had experience with this topic? In what context?
My parents’ home in Zambuk, Nigeria, as it looks today
From my 2013 Journal. I sprained my pinkie finger this week and had to tape it to the next finger to keep it stable and from feeling shooting pain anytime I bumped it. As I stood in church yesterday during a clapping song, I was conscious of how I had to restrict my hand motions in order to compensate.
All I could think about was what people would think if I just stood there and didn’t participate. Later I began to reflect:
#1 Why do I even think people are looking at me?
#2 If they are looking, are they judging me?
#3 Do they even care? Do I?
First of all, I suspect most people are doing the same thing I am—thinking more about themselves and what others are thinking of them if they act a certain way. And, yes, I think they’re judging—because I do it—judge people for their actions, that is. But so what if they judge or not? If they care or not?
More than feeling self-conscious, however, I think about my motive to set a good example. If I don’t clap, am I giving someone else permission not to participate in group worship? Do I hear a “should” in there somewhere? I want people to know why I’m not clapping. I can’t just stand there and not do it! Why not?
From my 2012 Journal. When I was growing up, the adults in my life defined worldly as doing anything that looked like you might fit into or embrace the culture around you:
Wearing certain clothing (the list might include too short, too long, too revealing, too flashy, pants vs skirts)
Going to a bar / drinking alcohol / smoking / drugs
Facial hair on men / short hair on women
Going to the movies (or the pool hall or the bowling alley)
Wearing too much makeup (especially red lipstick) or jewelry
And, of course, dancing!
So I was surprised when I read that the Apostle Paul defined worldliness not with outward-appearance restrictors but as “jealousy and quarreling among yourselves.”
You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans? (I Corinthians 3:3)
Whom should I believe . . . ? Perhaps those adults in my life were more worldly than they cared to admit!
Scott and I, young and in love, and apparently not caring about outward appearance!
From my 2012 Journal. We tend to focus on different things at different seasons of our lives. For example, when our daughter Cindy took a course in human anatomy for her degree in sculpture, she couldn’t help but notice the shapes of different people’s noses, eyes, and hairlines. As a young mom now, I suspect she’s focusing more on toddler behavior.
Cynthia’s self-bust
I, on the other hand, learned to critique a speaker’s vocal quality and body language for my oral interpretation degree. Perhaps that’s what kicked into high gear last night when I attended an evening church service. I found myself distracted by what I observed on stage. The words to a song splashed onto the screen, the worship leaders stepped up to the front in unison, each dressed to perfection—except that I think one is too perfect—I wonder what that rigidity looks like in her daily life?One dresses fashionably, I muse, but the fashion doesn’t suit her. Another is not petite enough. (What?! I just critiqued “the perfect one” as being too petite!) Arrggh! What’s wrong with my mind? I’m noticing the outward appearance, but inwardly, I’m critiquing: too perfect, too immodest, wounded, relaxed, etc.
I’m not God, and I can’t see into another person’s heart, so where do I come off having the right to judge and critique someone else’s inner soul? Yes, the externals give clues to the internals and, because of my counselor’s training, I’m getting better at noticing. But I don’t like the consequences. It’s distracting to my focus on worship. I’m not these people’s judge . . . or have I become one? When did I take on this role, and how do I stop it? It’s one thing to notice; it’s another to critique and then to judge.
So why do I do it? I think to myself, This person needs fixing! Yikes! What an ugly thought! That’s God’s job, not mine.
What if I focused on creativity and beauty instead of flaws? What if I celebrated our differences and our choices instead of our motives? Celebrated the colors on stage. Observed the style of clothing from a designer’s eye, appreciating the variety of shapes and sizes and textures rather than as a critique of a person’s character. I need to separate the physical from the internal.
So when does assessment turn into judgmentalism? Or pride? Or contempt? Or pity? Or concern? Or compassion? Have I created a standard in my mind for right and wrong that is different from God’s standard? God’s measuring stick is absolute (don’t lie, hate, lust, covet). My standard is a moving target based on cultural norms, a person’s age, historical time periods, etc.
And so I begin by stating an observation regarding externals:
She’s large-boned / He’s shorter than average
She wears high necklines / she has a plunging neckline
She has 4 visible tattoos / he has none
She wears tight-fitting jeans / he wears saggy pants
He has shoulder-length hair / she has short, spiky hair
It becomes an assessment when I draw plausible conclusions based on past experience or training. The assessment is not wrong IF I acknowledge that it is an educated guess: it could be that . . . I wonder if . . . most people like this are. . . . But concluding (without knowledge) what’s in a person’s heart is presumptuous. For example:
She’s too skinny / plump because she’s on weight-gaining drugs, she was abused as a child, she has no self-discipline, she has a food disorder, etc.
She shows cleavage because she wants to attract men’s attention, she has a “wardrobe malfunction,” she grew up in an Africa village where it’s culturally acceptable, etc.
She has tattoos because she wants to fit in with her peers, because she wants to permanently remember an event, because she’s rebelling against parental restrictions, etc.
And so on and so forth.
This exercise of the mind morphs into sinful pride (The Elder Brother syndrome) when I begin to compare myself to another person and indulge in feelings of superiority: I would never do that. . . I’m better than he/she. How sick is that!
I think about Zacchaeus the tax collector. How would I have judged him I wonder . . . a short, fat, greedy, mean, traitorous man? But Jesus sees into his repentant, hurting heart and begins a love relationship with him.
Visual: I see mobs of people milling around. Some are blind, others are crippled, and many are wearing arms in slings. Others hide behind facial masks, believing they’re safer that way; but their restricted vision prevents them from seeing the truth. They’re all dressed in filthy rags, covering painful sores. A pitiful lot.
And then I watch as a drop of Living Water falls gently onto one person. Like a drop of soap in a dishpan with oil, the ripples spread out and a path of clean is created. And more drops fall, and the people turn their faces skyward. Blinded eyes see, slings fall off, and crippled legs are straightened. But some are frightened by the foreign matter, and they run from the moisture . . . because water and dirt create mud streaks on their face, and they feel self-conscious.
And so I begin to let go of my judgmentalism. I now see their fear instead of their sin; their timidity instead of their stubbornness.
The rain is gentle and soothing and inviting. I allow myself to be bathed in it, cleansed, forgiven. I sense the sweet wooing of the Savior. And now instead of judgment, I feel sorrow for those who struggle, for I am one of them.
Suddenly the focus of my prayers change. I don’t pray for the person to have a change of heart; I pray for God’s mercy to let a drop of His Spirit fall on him/her. I appeal to God to pour out His love and woo the stubborn, judgmental heart—starting with mine.
Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart (I Samuel 16:7).
The shrewd man saw trouble and took cover; the simple kept going and paid the penalty (Proverbs 22:3).
From my 2012 Journal. I’ve often thought about how the Psalmist David fled from King Saul; but the 3 young captives Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego stayed put and refused to bow before an idol at the king’s mandate. Corrie ten Boom hid Jews in Holland during Hitler’s regime, while others refused to harbor fugitives. What’s the right thing to do? Flee from harm’s way or stand your ground and take the consequences? What about Mary and Joseph? God could have simply put a miraculous, sword-proof shield around the holy family or made them invisible to the soldiers’ eyes. But God chose to remove them from the situation. He told them to flee to Egypt.
What would have happened if David had stood his ground and confronted Saul instead of running? Or if the Jews hadn’t gone into hiding? Or if Shad, Mesh, and Abed had fled the country?
When the Israelites were besieged by the Babylonian army, God instructed them not to resist—just surrender and go into captivity. Instead, the leaders and the people fought back, tried to escape, and hid—and many lost their lives as a result. Later, God told the remnant to do the opposite: stay put and not flee to Egypt. The key, I think, is obedience to the Spirit of God who knows what’s best.
I can’t say I’ve ever been in this situation, so it’s hard to predict what I might do. But I think about it. Have you ever experienced this dilemma? How did you choose and why?
If you refrain from rescuing those taken off to death—those condemned to slaughter—If you say, “we knew nothing of it,” surely he who fathoms hearts will discern [the truth]. He who watches over your life will know it. And he will pay each man as he deserves (Proverbs 24:11).
In the Pursuit of Peace 