How Big is God?

How big is God? When I was little, I used to see God as this big puff of light. I couldn’t see what He looked like, but I saw Jesus as that guy in all the pictures in Sunday school. I never even imagined the Spirit.

With time, the Trinity has grown for me. I still don’t have a face for God, but now I know He is bigger than anything my heart or mind can imagine. Just huge! Jesus and the Spirit have grown for me, too. That picture in Sunday school is not as I see the Son of God anymore. Now he is like a superhero, beyond anything a photograph can capture. If I do imagine Jesus, the one aspect of Him I see is His smile. He laughs a lot. The Spirit is not someone I try to pigeonhole either, but instead is more an unconquerable, always moving force.

I’ll see in heaven. Like it says in 1 Corinthians 13:12 “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.”

I love thinking of that moment when I get to see God face to face. He’ll run. I’ll run. It will be the embrace of my existence. Perfect love.

Psalm 103: 11-12 gives us a glimpse of his size:
“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”

So He is pretty big. Higher than the heavens, longer than the east from the west. Huge. Psalm 18 describes God has “soaring on the wings of the wind.” That’s a sweet picture. It also says that He can make the earths tremble and storms thunder and lightning.

He’s big.

But yet He is too small for many of our problems, isn’t He?

My sister is coming to visit next week. Her first stop is Albuquerque. I am going to drive there and pick her up this weekend and then bring her back to Denver. Can’t wait to be with her. She is one of my best friends on the planet.

But first, I must drive the eight hours to Albuquerque. By myself. When I was younger, this would be no big deal. But since I haven’t done anything like this in years, I feel anxious. The “what ifs” are haunting me.

Now where does the big ole God come into play in this? It would be so easy to say nowhere. But I would be wrong and I would be missing the chance to tap into the power that is beyond anything I can ever imagine.

God wants to go to Albuquerque with me. He is for me. He wants me to have a lovely drive and sweet time with Him on the way. He is big enough to take care of me and to watch over every aspect of the trip.

So why do I put the God of all, the God who can soar on wings of the wind, the God whose love for me is higher than the heavens on the backburner of my heart?

How can I ignore such a HUGE GOD?

Once again, I have to make a choice. A choice to squish that cardboard box labeled “How big God is.” I have no idea of His power and ability and love.

It is a mistake to try and figure Him out and give His opinions like “Well, God is too busy to go with me to Albuquerque” or “God is too holy to hang out with me while I watch reality TV” or "God loves Republicans more than Democrats" or "God is more pleased with liars than He is homosexuals."

I need to quit putting Him in that box.

I pray for myself and for you who might be reading this. Let’s allow God to be God in all His majesty and wonder and awe. Let’s squish the boxes!

In Awe of Imperfection

For weeks, I have wanted to get away for twenty four hours alone with God. Twice things have come up. No big deal, I thought, I will do it in the future. In fact, how about early September? After Noah goes to school?

Perfect. A perfect plan.

I made the arrangements to go to a retreat center today out in a secluded forest and stay there in a little cabin overnight. I’ve been there before and I was very excited. All the plans were in place. I borrowed a couple of books from my brother and John was set to pick up Noah and take him to school tomorrow. I finished the laundry and cleaned up the house. I was ready for my perfect time with God. I had planned a date with Jesus and couldn’t wait.

But then…

The boy’s throat started to hurt. His nose started to run. Uh-oh.

This morning, my perfect plans fell apart. Now I sit here writing while Noah is on the couch covered with a blanket and a tissue box nearby. We see the doctor in a couple of hours.

At first, disappointment leaned against my heart and smashed it. Again? I have to cancel this again? John’s compassion helped. I fought back a few tears. I had been so excited.

Then I did what all of us have to do when life happens this way. I looked at Plan B.
Plan B involved a day at home, resting, reading, a little bit of writing and still hanging out with My Creator. In between looking after sweet Noah.

These are the kind of moments that either strengthen our faith or weaken it. The simple moments of disappointment can be such a wonderful tool for shaping our character. Those moments can also be used as a weapon to destroy joy. Our belief in the fact that God has it all under control can be dripped upon and eroded.

The outcome lies in a simple choice. Do I choose acceptance? Can I just accept Plan B, say Oh well, and still search for the gifts that lie within a simple day at home with a sick nine-year-old?

Or…do I choose the battle? The battle of fighting circumstances with my emotions. I embrace the anger of not getting my own way and I dwell within that place, somehow believing that my anger will change the path of life today. I throw a pity party and stomp around in passive aggressive angst, somehow believing that since I didn’t get what I deserved today, I will fight for my right to be happy through childish displays of self-centeredness.

I chose acceptance. When God wants me out in the forest, alone with Him, He will pave the way. “Perfect” plans just don’t exist. Only a Perfect Planner.

He knows. I don’t. Can I live with that?

I can. At least I will try to today. The feelings of disappointment haven’t disappeared, but they are not ruling the day. Perfection shmerfection!

I ran across the following poem by a Benedictine monk, Friar Killian McDonnell. He says it all:

“I have had it with perfection
I have packed my bags
I am out of here
Gone.
Perfection straineth out
The quality of mercy,
Withers rapture at its
birth.
Hints I could have taken-
Even the perfect chiseled form of
Michelangelo’s David
Squints.
The Venus de Milo
Has no arms
The Liberty Bell is cracked.”

Here’s hoping your day is full of God’s grace,
And empty of the chase of perfection.

New Glasses

My brother Phil left this quote on the comments yesterday. Bears repeating:

"Hurry means that we gather impressions, but have no experiences...
that we collect acquaintances but make no friends...
that we attend meetings but experience no encounter.
We must recover eternity if we are to find time,
and eternity is what Jesus came to restore." D.T. Niles

It was my turn for car pool this morning. Today is also my Words for the Journey Writers Meeting.

So when I woke up, the first thought? Hurry!

Hurry and make lunches. Hurry and make breakfast. Hurry and feed the dog. Hurry and get through your quiet time. Hurry and get dressed. Hurry and don’t be late for school!

Hurry!

I did. Guess what? We were late anyway. It wasn’t just my lack of organization. I truly believe it was because I hurried. When I hurry, I miss things. I missed seeing the time. I missed enjoying my boy.

So after all the rush and before I went to my writers meeting, I sat and stopped. Really stopped. And I read the D.T. Niles quote above. And I prayed.

God brought to my attention that line that says, “We attend meetings but experience no encounter.” Okay God, I said. Go with me to my writers meeting and give me new eyes. Slow me down.

You know what? I experienced encounters. With my new glasses on, I looked around at the wonderful fifteen women writers.

I noticed differences. 5 blonds, 7 brunettes, and 3 crowns of gray and white. I witnessed the diverse ages and stations in life. Kids and no kids. Grown kids and teenagers. Elementary age and one sweet mom who brought her four-year-old girl and two-year-old son. It is amazing how although each of us is fearfully and wonderfully made, we are each created completely individually.

That’s reason for awe. If you take the time to look. With my new glasses, I noticed.

I encountered friendship. How lovely is that moment when you see someone who smiles at your presence, and greets you in sweet excitement to see you. This is reason for awe. As I received hugs and greetings, my new glasses saw friendship in a new light.

Lastly, my wonderful God showed me a clear picture of purpose. What a delight it is to gather with like-minded souls who want to write for God and who want to write excellently. It’s like we’re all on the same purpose cruise, complete with chocolate and warm waves and life vests to hand each other in case of rejection.
I am in awe of a God who loves to dole out His purpose for us, if we but ask.

I am in awe of my Creator today. Don't need to hurry. Just slow down. And put on my new glasses.

From Fear to Awe

I am going to blog every day in September. This first week, I will be talking about awe.

Have we lost our sense of wonder? Of the awe of God’s creation?

Yep. As for me and myself, the answer is yes. I am much more enthralled with a new gadget than I am captivated by a sunset. The words I read in People magazine keep my attention more than the sweet conversation between two three-year olds over ice cream.

Is there hope for someone like me? Can I recapture the sense of curiosity I possessed when I used to stare at the West Texas stars for hours in my backyard? And more importantly, can I begin to recognize and remember that my God, the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe is present in that puzzled look my dog gets sometimes? He is inherent in the wind blowing through the trees outside my window.

But you know what? I don’t know the name of any of the trees around here. I need to find out.

Brennan Manning, in the Ragamuffin Gospel, wrote:

“Our world is saturated with grace, and the lurking presence of God is revealed not only in spirit but in matter…in a gentle doe streaking through a forest, in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, in a woman’s windblown hair. God intended for us to discover His loving presence in the world around us.”

Okay, Brennan. I am up for this.

So with awe on my mind, I set out today on a road trip with the fam.

Our destination? Wherever my husband decided to drive. He loves exploring the Rockies on his motorcycle and became our tour guide of the day. We traveled up past Idaho Springs and took the exit to go up to Loveland Pass. We drove down from there to Breckenridge and ate sandwiches and walked around an open air art festival. Then we drove on to more passes and more incredible views. Our last stop was South Park, the beautiful valley that lies ensconced within the protection of the Rocky Mountains.

When I was a kid, my mother used to get frightened whenever we would drive on mountain passes where the edge of the road resembled a drop-off cliff. I inherited this fear and have worked to get rid of it the past couple of years. But no matter what verse I memorize or song I sing or praise song I blast, whenever I drive up to the mountains I am scared. Plain and simple.

Today, I took another tack. I prayed as I have many times. But this time I simply asked, “God, turn my fear into awe.”

He did. Somewhere in our day, I began to see the greens of the grass and remember that God knew the number of blades. Wow.

I looked at trees slowly, trying to imagine the moment that God created that one single pine. Not the whole forest. Just one long, lovely tree after another.

As John soared around each curve, (He would say he was going slowly) instead of jerking my head toward the left and announcing his speed, I laid my head back and imagined that I was on the back of the wings of the wind, safe in God’s hands.

It worked.

At least a little. I don’t have the kind of wonder I wish I did. My awe of creation has much to be desired. I’m like a kindergartener in Creation Appreciation class.

But today I noticed.

I noticed His presence in the mountains. When I looked over the edges of the highways and peered down into the endless slopes of carefully chiseled rock and sculptured trees and painted grass, a little of that old fear left. Awe slipped in, unannounced.

It was a start. A good one.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Have you ever seen a commercial for Staples or Office Depot about selling school supplies? It first came on a couple of years ago and today my heart swells with joy when I think of it.

Swells? Really? For a commercial?

Yep.

You see the father is pushing a cart picking up school supplies and his two kids are trudging along, obviously upset about going back to school. But the Dad, well he is anything but upset. In fact, as he pushes the cart he also dances. The music in the background says it all. It is the song, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!”

This is how I feel. My heart is swelling with relief and joy. Noah is safely, wonderfully, FINALLY back at school. Before you go and start calling me Bad Mom, let me assure you I am not alone. Many, many, many parents celebrate with me.

Those days of crying as your little precious enters the world of kindergarten…they are over. I adore Noah and I am so grateful to have a son. But this summer was long. Very, very long in some ways. In other ways, it flew by.

He is in fourth grade and already loves it. I am in my home alone with Scooby, writing away, and I love it. See we are both happy!

It is the most wonderful time of the year!

A Gift from God - My Writing Group!

In January, 2007, a mere one year and eight months ago, I walked into a room at Southeast Community Church in Parker. Greeted immediately by a tall woman with big hair and a big smile, I felt a bit more at ease. I sat down, unsure of myself, but ready to begin a new adventure. Only a month had passed since moving to Colorado. John and Noah and I were welcomed to Denver by two blizzards and several feet of snow outside our condo. Coming from sunny California, we were still in shock. At least I was.

But on this day, the snow was receding. A bit. The sun was shining. A bit more. And I was hopeful that my dream of writing could be spurred on to a new level if I joined a writing group. So it was that I came to be a part of Words for the Journey Christian Writers Guild.

Today I am so thankful for this group of people who love words and who cheer each other on to write for the Creator of Words! In this group, I have been given the tools to improve my craft. In this group, I was handed a list of places to submit my writing. In this group, I had the joy of sharing that I was going to be published for the first time in a Colorado magazine/newspaper called Prairie Times. In this group, I giggled through the thrill of announcing that my writing would be in Chicken Soup for the Tea Lovers Soul.

And in this group, I have stood and announced countless rejections. Each time I do, I get the exact same response as when I get an acceptance. My fellow writers applaud and cheer. They know that it takes courage to submit. A rejection is not a sign of failure, but a sign of that courage it took to hit the send button.

Sharen Watson was our leader but has moved back to Texas to be with family. While she was here, she encouraged me immensely. She gave me courage to keep going and to spread my wings a bit. After I made a flyer to send to MOPS directors to volunteer to be a speaker, I became frozen in fear. I couldn't send it out. No one would want to hear me speak. Or would they?

I approached Sharen and shyly said, "Would you look at this?"

Sharen read it over and exclaimed, "Do it,Robbie! This looks great."

I did. And I was given the honor of speaking for several MOPS groups last year and will speak to even more this year.

Megan, our co-director, authored a novel, Searching for Spice, last year and has another book, Out of Her Hands, coming out in October. Her success has given fuel to my dreams. To see someone go through the process with its ups and downs has been an education in itself for me. I remember so clearly the day Megan taught on finding your voice. It was after listening to her and taking a lot of notes, that I found the confidence to write as me. Not me trying to be another author. Or me trying to be a better me. Just me.

Now Michele leads us and I am so excited to see what God will do in her and through her. Michele is a professional speaker and has already added so much to that part of my calling. This October I am going to go to the Dynamic Communicators Workshop for five days in Colorado Springs to polish my speaking abilities. Michele opened the doors for me to go.

So I am blessed. God called me to write, seriously, a few years ago. When I moved to Denver, He handed me this beautifully wrapped gift for me to use for that calling. He gave me Words for the Journey.

Last night, we started our new year with a meeting at Barnes and Noble. During the meeting, Michele announced two winners for the WFTJ devotional contest. My name was called. Thrilled, I went to the front and accepted my prize. When I got back to my seat, I whispered, "Thank you, Jesus." It wasn't just a prayer for the gift card I won. It wasn't just a prayer for giving me the words to write. It was a whispered prayer of thanksgiving for that beautifully wrapped gift He gave me one year and eight months ago.

Attacking Our Joy

August 21, 2008
I woke up this morning feeling restless and irritable. For a while, I tried to think about it logically. Why was I feeling this way? Had something happened to propel me to stress or anger? No.

My feelings manifested into actions. I got angry with John. I became angrier with Noah. I told Scooby to stay clear of me. When it was time for me to sit outside in the beautiful sunshine, beneath a baby blue sky peppered with gorgeous white clouds and have my quiet time, I put it off. I didn’t want to hang out with God.

Do you ever feel this way? Sometimes it’s physical, absolutely. Sometimes it’s emotional, brought on by circumstances. But as I finally gave in to prayer and sitting at God’s feet, it became clear to me I was under a spiritual attack.

John’s going on a WAAG this weekend. WAAG stands for Weekend Almost Alone with God. It’s a very cool activity that my brother Phil’s ministry Caleb’s Heart does. John is going with 6 to 8 guys up into the Rocky Mountains. The spiritual leader, Robb, will take each man to their own spot in the forest (secluded) and leave them there. For hours. Alone.

The point is to facilitate a time where each man can just be alone with God. No retreat speaker. No manly activity. Just God. For hours. Alone. They get together for meals (I hear the food is phenomenal) and to talk about what they are hearing, but most of the weekend it is just each man alone with God.

This ministry has had a life-changing effect on many men. John warned me on Monday that this week may be a difficult one. The enemy doesn’t want John to go. The enemy doesn’t want John to have a good time. The enemy doesn’t want John to hear God’s love.

Satan has been working on John. Poor guy has had a heck of a week at work. Things have broken, tempers have flared and John has had to stay late several nights. Talk about stress. But John has persevered and comes home at night, still proclaiming God is the One. He doesn’t actually walk into the house and yell, “God is the One!” or do anything churchy or super-spiritual. But in his prayers before dinner and at bedtime, I hear his sacrifice of praise. I hear his faith. I see it when he doesn’t come home angry or nervous, ready to be shnappy with me or Noah.

So, what does the enemy do? He attacks John’s wife. It would’ve been soooo easy to skip my quiet time this morning. So easy. I wasn’t in the mood at all. It would’ve been sooo easy just to stay put in the restlessness and irritability. But for me and my house, we are praising the Lord.

Barbara Johnson who wrote Stick a Geranium in your Hat and be Happy said, “We all have seen dreams turn to ashes – ugly things, hopeless experiences – but beauty for ashes is God’s exchange. Offer yourself to God and ask for a spirit of praise so your whole being will be restored.”

I say, “God is the One!” in faith. I don’t feel much better. Restlessness is still lurking. But the feelings will change and God will restore my joy. I know He will. That’s His job.

John is going to have a wonderful time at WAAG. If not, why would Satan be on our backs?

PS - So my blog's date is broken! Anyone know how I can fix it?