His strength is made perfect in our weakness

i’ve been unable to encounter much oxygen lately. i won't say much except for that it’s mostly my fault; just a lack of prioritizing this time I’ve been given well.

so I’m sitting in first service worship today when God whispers, breaking His words over me like a water balloon.

keti.. it’s not all about receiving. hasn’t your heart said that it wants to give more? so give. you have received much. it’s time to start giving back and pouring out. in my frustrated human state of mind, I clenched my firsts and whispered back “God, what do I have to give right now?? i have nothing. i feel all used up.”

and He said “you have nothing to give.

but I do.”

suddenly i understood. do you know why i can’t give anything right now? because I’m depending on my strength. I am reaching inside of myself, hoping to find something to give to others, but continuously come out with empty hands. there is nothing within me to pull out. in order to give, I must allow myself to be filled with God. the well of His water never wanes, and always sustains. I must give from His reserves, for I have none.

so please do not tell me that i am strong. being “strong” is tiring, and in fact I wish to never be strong. His strength is made perfect in my weakness, and i am terribly weak, and He is terribly strong.

the only way we’re going to make it is by depending on Him. friends, at the end of the day, we are so human. the negative thoughts that scurry across our minds, the bad attitudes that we swallow, the tears that we pretend never slip out… let’s be real, they happen to us much more often than we’d like to admit. even though I work in a ministry, and my service is in Jesus’ name, many times I don’t do it with my heart completely surrendered to Him. so how do I expect to pour into other’s lives if I’m not allowing Jesus to pour Himself into me? and not just on Sundays, or Tuesdays, or Fridays… but every day. each morning and night. each moment that I feel my strength draining, my heart slipping down out of my chest, my joy bleeding out of my fingers.

His strength is made perfect in our weakness. remind yourself of this truth. clamor to Him in your weak moments, in your happy moments, in your end-of-the-rope moments, in your best moments. we are never strong. but He always wants to use us, always wants to pour into us so that in turn we can pour Him into others. His strength is made perfect in our weakness. 

it’s okay if you’re weak. just be willing to accept His strength.

potty training

so today i felt daring enough to start potty-training Patrick, the two-year-old under my care. round one was a complete mess… both literally and figuratively. three times in two hours he wet his pants. i think he’s afraid to use the toilet, 1)because currently it hurts to go potty and 2) it’s something new and he doesn’t have alot of control or training yet. but the third, and last, time was the worst by far. all of a sudden he just peed, right in the middle of the room, with both feet planted in the puddle beneath him. biting back frustration, i asked him “sweetheart, do you need to go to the toilet?” he clenched his jaw and said “no!!” watching the yellow drops raining down, i asked him again “are you going pee?” and straight to my face, he responded “no!!” i asked him again and got the same response, only much louder: “no! no! NO!!!”

i could have easily yelled back in that moment. in fact, i truly wanted to. but once again, God hit me over the head with the words “respond in love. he’s hurting. give him grace.” looking right into his eyes, i no longer saw defiance, but instead saw hurt and him knowing that he'd let me down again. so instead of shouting back, i smiled, reached in and gave him a hug. “come on, little one. let’s go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up.” as he sat on the toilet wiping away his tears, i repeated for the third time that he needed to tell me when he had to go potty. that it was okay to use the toilet, and even if it hurt, i’d be there with him. that i love him regardless of whether he pees his pants or uses the bathroom.

after cleaning him all up (and putting a diaper on) i held him close to me for a couple of minutes. because leaving your comfort zone just sucks, you know? sometimes it’s just really hard to transition. the funny thing is, i was just about to start writing this post, thinking i was this big saint for treating Patrick with so much grace, when God hit me over the head again. “you are just like Patrick sometimes, pumpkin.”

i had to laugh out loud. it’s completely true. what patience He has with me even as I’m lying to His face, thinking I can do it on my own, refusing to choose His way because it hurts. i can be so blind sometimes, and i am always so undeserving of the grace and patience and love He has with me as i’m struggling through new changes, new transitions. the biggest thing i really take out of this is that we are all broken, busted-up souls in need of grace. so maybe instead of snapping back at your coworker, take a minute to consider why they’re acting like that- do you know their background and what they’re dealing with? instead of walking away from your screaming child, step in and hold them close- you don’t know what words have been said to them by others when you weren’t around to protect them. we need to respond in love. this doesn’t mean that we should be doormats and just let things happen to us; but we need to demonstrate the love and kindness of God in that moment.

it’s real hard sometimes to see things from another’s perspective when we’re feeling offended ourselves, but we need to make an effort and not only see them how God sees them, but treat them like God treats them.

respond in love. we’re all broken and in need of grace.

like a kid again

wrapping up another busy day, I was sitting on the cool tile floor beginning to organize my closet when I heard God whispering “when are you going to spend time with Me today?” I pulled out my hand from within the cabinet, internally struggling with priorities and time management. I felt His words again. “hey keti… I want to spend time with you.” I knew I really needed time with Him, so I shut the smooth wooden doors and put off organizing pajama pants for another day.

slipping quietly into the hallway, I ducked under a window and lay on my back, running a finger along the rugged concrete wall, unsure of how to start. the way I normally pray is just by coming to God with whatever’s on my heart, and pausing every once in a while to gather my and His thoughts.

but this time I felt different.

I started thinking of how so many people say that Christianity isn’t a religion but a personal relationship with God. and from earthly experience, a strong relationship is held together by two committed people making an effort; it is not one person taking taking taking and the other person giving giving giving. it takes two. and there’s so many times I go to God just spewing my needs and not taking really much time to listen to His. what kind of relationship is that?

as I thought through that, the Spirit brought a new concept to my mind, suggesting I pray it. I hesitated, almost unsettled, but then prayed

God, what was something that made You happy today?
what was something you saw that broke Your heart?

and then I just waited for Him to respond.

I’ll admit, I felt kind of silly and childish. who am I, a mere mortal created by The Immortal, to ask God about His day?... a day, something that exists in my world but not in His. it’s almost like I’m asking Him to step within my limits.

or is it?

I think God is delighted when we ask Him personal questions. He knows then that we’re not coming before Him asking Him to make us feel better. He knows we’re coming to Him because we want to hear from Him, with hearts open and willing to hear.

this was the first time I think I’ve ever prayed that prayer. it’s taken me eighteen years to be a four-year-old child before God again. I know I need to pray it much more often, and allow time to really listen for His answer instead of moving on to the next thing.

setting apart our time to listen to the way His heart beats is one of the greatest ways we can show Him our love, and through doing that, we being to enter into a much deeper, more intimate relationship with the One who loves us more than we can imagine.

what's in your rooms?

it was nothing out-of-the-ordinary; two stories, halfway painted, rebar shooting off the top like fireworks… just another apartment complex being built in Mexico to accommodate for the exponential city growth. although common to see on our Sunday drives home, this time its frame seemed to jump out at me. or rather, what really jumped out was the emptiness that seemed to wrap around and constrict the building’s framework. and in the quiet seconds it took to notice and take in, God started speaking.

this skeleton of a building is a reflection of our own beings when we have not yet allowed God to touch us. ugly, empty, desolate, unfurnished. without a single touch of home that make us unique and special to those who live within. just another prototype with a short, unsatisfying life. when we let God in to have His way is when we will start to look more like a home, a sanctuary even, and less like just another mold. He designed us to serve a certain purpose and will furnish us accordingly: placing a rug here, a painting over on that wall, the chairs arranged just like this, even making careful decisions over such seemingly trivial things such as cut and design of silverware, amount of plates and coffee mugs, the way the curtains drape, and the strokes of paint placed over the drywall. we are His home, His sanctuary, and each one of us exemplifies His abundance of creative design in a very diverse manner. some of us are lakeside cottages and others are expansive mansions. some of us are small mud huts in Africa with one open room and others are multiple/floored pristine Victorian/era houses in Europe. some are trailer homes that pick up and change location every couple of months, and others are lovely ranches with concrete roots firmly planted into the solid ground beneath it. though all incredibly different both externally and internally, their significance is in the common factor that ties them all together: home. home. home.

within our walls God should feel at home. welcomed. at rest. blessed. comforted. joyful. free.

do our homes, and what is found within them, allow for that?

after speaking over these concepts with a friend, he unknowingly brought light to the truth that many times, the words that God speaks to our heart carry multiple layers that continue to speak to us over the discourse of weeks months and years. there was another layer to this house parable. he told me that many times these furnished homes have rooms with doors shut, even locked, to maintenance and change. so often we don’t want God to come in and see what we ourselves have accumulated in these rooms. we don’t want Him to see that we haven’t been cleaning, that we have allowed certain things to break, that we've pushed things under the carpet or the stains we’ve covered with the paintings that before had been carefully placed. so we cautiously close the door and decide to forget what’s inside. these locked/up rooms and what they contain quickly become stale, rotten, and begin to affect the framework of the house and even work their way into other rooms.

but

what would happen if you pulled that key of the necklace you wear close to your chest and used it to unlock the door you’ve so carefully pulled shut?

what if you asked God to enter it? to evaluate, analyze, and begin to restore and remodel what you’ve been so careful to hide?

He designed you for a purpose. quit being afraid to fulfill it. all of us have accumulated us extra, unneeded, damaging things from life and its circumstances, but throw open your doors and windows to God; draw back the shades and let Him come in and restore you. there is healing you need to find yet within the walls of your home.