Finding Lost Things

"I can't find it! I can't find it!"  That was me, at two-years old, frantically looking for a lost Christmas toy amongst the chaos.  I know this because it's recorded on the single home video I have of my childhood. And ever since, the narrative over my life has been that I am not good at finding things. 

When I can't find something, I become pretty frantic, like that little girl in the video.  Sometimes I panic.  Sometimes I cry. Often, I give up after awhile. 

Or, at least I used to be like this. 

You see, after having three children and acquiring a lot of small little toys and even smaller pieces to those toys, I had to learn really quick that it was not physically possible for me to keep track of every Lego, Barbie shoe, and Polly Pocket that came into this house. 

When my girls started getting toys like these, and they'd immediately lose a Barbie shoe, their emotions were BIG. They were devastated a part of the whole was gone, and often had big emotions about the loss. 

As their mom, I would become frustrated they lost the toys, but even more sad for their broken little hearts.  I felt helpless, knowing finding lost things was not a strength of mine.  So, I started to pray a prayer every time they lost something.

"Jesus, I know that you know exactly where _________ is.  So please show me what only you can see.  We always give you all the glory no matter what, but I can't wait to praise you when we find it.  Amen."

And time and time again, testimony after testimony, Jesus has helped us find the lost things.

Once, the girls lost a yellow Barbie shoe in the backyard during autumn.  Yellow and orange leaves littered the yard.  And as the girls cried and cried about their new toy being partial without both shoes, I prayed.  Sure enough, the shoe was found under a leaf!

Once, a Lego piece fell off our counter and bounced on the floor and up under the lip of our cupboard, into the tiniest little hole between the molding and the cupboard door. Jordan searched for a good long while, remembered to pray our prayer, and started pulling apart the cabinet.  Lo and behold, the Lego was found!

Another time, my friend called me in a panic that she couldn't find her daughter's favorite stuffed animal to get her down for a nap. I prayed with her over the phone, she took a deep breath, and soon found what she was looking for. 

Recently, at a women's retreat, our leader was distraught over losing a piece of our craft that was vital to the whole project.  Knowing the One who could help, I pulled her aside to pray with her my special prayer.  As I walked away, I had a sense the lost items were near some folders. So I told her to look where she was storing the folders.  Several hours later, she came to me on the beach to tell me the items were found inside the lid of a box the folders came in!  Too good to make up :) 

Perhaps my favorite story is when my youngest daughter lost her little Bluey toys.  They were new, of course. When she misplaced them, there were alligator tears.  We searched everywhere we could think of two or three times.  Days would pass, and we'd search some more.  One morning, my oldest daughter woke up and told us she dreamt the toys were in something red.  We searched in our red wagon and tricycle, to no avail.  Weeks went by and I was hanging up their winter coats for the season.  Inside Ellie's red puffy winter coat pocket were the Bluey toys.  "Mommy!  They were in something red, just like my dream!" Natalie exclaimed.  We were astonished.

And just the other day, my daughter lost a little green rock she found in the yard when one of her siblings knocked it out of her hand.  I kept raking as I watched her struggle to find it, knowing she knew the protocol for finding lost things.  After awhile, I went over to her and asked if she prayed about it yet.  "No, Mommy.  Will you help me?"  So we prayed to Jesus, the One who sees everything, to help us find the rock.  After a few more minutes of searching in the grass, my eyes went right to it, and I knew it was the right one. 

Ok, you get the point.  Every time I pray for Jesus to help me find something lost, He shows up.  Sometimes right away.  Sometimes after a few hours.  Sometimes after a few weeks.  Every time, He shows up. 

Have you ever lost something and not been able to find it? 

How important was it to you? Was it an expensive piece of jewelry or maybe even some cold hard cash? Was it sentimental to you? What if it was seemingly insignificant to the rest of the world but very important to you? 

Every time my kids lose something I use it as a lesson to teach them about how much their Savior loves them.  If Jesus cares to bring our eyes to the most insignificant things like little rocks and lost Barbie shoes, how much more does He care about your bigger details?! And how much more does He want to help us fix our eyes on Him?!

Jesus says in Matthew 10:29-31, "Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.  But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."

This lesson is simple but profound, isn't it?  When you're struggling with making a decision, or feeling seen, or being heard, how comforting is it to know the God who sees it all is watching over every single detail.  

He's not just God of Creation; He's the God of you.  And you very much matter to Him.  

So when I pray for the lost things to be found, I know He's just using those little moments to strengthen my faith in Him for when I need it in the big moments.

He wants to do this for you.  He already does.  I think my role in finding these lost things is both faith and action.  I have the faith He will show me, and I physically use my eyes to look.  Once I pray, I get to work looking.  

I wonder what it is you are praying for right now, that you need to start looking for?

May the lost things be found, and may your faith be strengthened in the process. 

Ellie's green rock found in the grass

Off the Hurt and On to Praise

 

Last night in church, we were singing a song about remember our Redeemer.  The lyrics when like this:  

    "Christ Redeemer, we remember, He has won the war!"

It struck a chord in my heart.  I've recently been studying Psalm 77, a powerful song of Asaph, in which the speaker cries out to God in the middle of the night, wondering where the relief is from the suffering being experienced.

At first glance, it almost seems as if the speaker is feeling abandoned by God.  Or even worse, God is there, but the speaker refuses to be comforted by God.

The psalm is written post-kingdom collapse and exile.  The Israelites have lost everything.  Families separated.  Families demolished.  All familiarity gone.  They are in a state of capital T Trauma.  That's the state-of-mind the psalmist is writing from. 

The first few verses are evident of a tired, weary soul, crying out to God but feeling no comfort or release from the circumstances.

But amidst the sleeplessness and crying out, the psalmist is choosing to do something really powerful.

He is remembering and considering the days of old, of the happier, more stable times.

His first conclusion seems to be the God of ancient days has changed somehow.  How could the same God who brought them out of Egypt allow their exile?

But everything the psalmist knows about God says quite otherwise.  He knows God is unchangeable.  He knows the promises God gave to his ancestors.  He knows the history.

In verse 11, the psalmist's remembering actually begins to bring JOY and PEACE back into his soul.

His thoughts are shifted off the hurt and on to the glory and power of a living God.

It's a movement from complaint to praise.

Please don't miss this.

The psalmist had to choose this change in his thinking.  He needed a renewed perspective in the pit of despair.  I actually believe God moved in his spirit during these prayers to help shift his perspective!

Remembrance is a beautiful gift we have the ability to use, isn't it? God has given us minds to literally store memories to look back on when we need comfort, healing, and encouragement.

I want to acknowledge that memories are not always joyful.  Some are quite traumatic, as the psalmist here remembers and knows well.  But there was a shift in his heart towards praising God for the good things, despite the traumatic things.

I've been doing a lot of "memory work" myself this year... going back into my past to heal some emotions attached to difficult memories.  The act of remembering like this takes hard work, dedication, and a lot of showing up for myself and in my counselor's office.  I don't do it alone; I am surrounded by a stable, healthy community to hold me up in this season of remembering and healing. (Praise!!)

The more I shift off the hurt and on to praise, I find the hand of the Lord in all of it.  It's like my vision clears and I can see what I could not see before.  He has always been my Shelter, my Provider, my Protector, my Counselor, and my Healer.

I guess what I want to leave you with today is a challenge for you to look for and remember the goodness, glory, and power of God in your life, even in the traumatic events.

God has not changed from the days when He led the Israelites through the sea and through the wilderness.  The waters still see Him and move at His beck and call, and the deeps still tremble.

And more often than not, God's way is "in the sea" and His paths are "in the mighty waters."  And in those deeps, sometimes it feels like He's not there, like His "footprints may not be known."

But rest assured, He was there then, He is here now, and He will be there for all that is to come.

This brings me great comfort in my distress, and courage for what I have not endured yet.  Praise Him from whom all blessings flow.  Praise Him. Praise Him. Praise Him!

May remembering your Redeemer bless you too, dear friend.

*I use the NASB if you'd like to read the psalm in the same translation for verses I've referenced.

The Suspension Bridge

    You know those suspension bridges that are built with some rope and very questionable planks and stretch across a deep gully? They're usually suspended a thousand feet in the air and as you walk over them, they move and shake beneath your feet with every move? They're also usually poorly maintained, so often missing planks along the way, causing you to bravely hop over the missing pieces and forge to the other side.

    There are three types of people who encounter these types of bridges in the rainforests and distant mountain trails.  The first kind of person bravely steps out onto that bridge, eyes ahead on the other side, and enjoys the thrill of danger (you people need your heads examined!).  The second kind of person lingers for a few minutes, calculates the risk, and eventually caves to the peer pressure of the group and starts walking (whimpering along the way).  Then there's the third person.  This one sees the risk, fear takes over, and she never moves. She lets everyone go on ahead without her, perfectly content on solid ground.

    I'll give you a chance to guess which group I all into. Ok, time's up.

    Yeah, I hate those kinds of bridges.  They freak me out of my ever-loving mind.  I've come across them in my travels over the years, and contentedly let the others I'm with go ahead.  "I'll wait here, " I say.  "You guys have fun." And I really mean it. 

    I'm the third type of person.  I've never willingly walked across a bridge like that.

    At the beginning of this year, God gave me a vision of me standing out in the middle of a bridge just like the one I described.  I'm standing in the very center of such a bridge, as it wobbles and moves all around me, but the strange part is, I don't shake at all.  I just stand there, perfectly content to stay in the middle place of doom.  Normally people do not linger on such bridges.  They're dangerous and scary (I think we've established that, so I promise I'll move on).  These people are smart.  They keep walking to get to the other side.  

    I don't know how I got to this place in the middle, but there I stand.  And I've not been given permission to cross to the other side, nor to return back to where I came from.

    I think there are a few reasons I'm standing in this middle place, and I want to share those reasons with you tonight.  Maybe you're also standing in the middle of a shaky bridge.

    The first thing God has shared with me about this vision is His plan for how He got me out there in the first place.  This plan goes farther back in time that I would have imagined on my own.  He was knitting together a story in my life before I even realized it, to put me on this bridge for such a time as this.  Meanwhile, I was developing relationships, deepening my faith, having babies, repenting of my sins, getting counseling, traveling, visiting loved ones, burying loved ones, and working towards a masters degree.  It's been a full few years.  And while I was doing all this, God was working in all those details, getting me ready to stand on this bridge.

    So you see, it's no surprise to God that I'm standing there.  He's been planning my position there for quite some time.

    The second thing God has shared with me is the purpose for standing there.  You see, sometimes others need to see that someone else went before them and lived to see another day, to find the courage themselves to also step out into the scary unknown.  The purpose for me being there has nothing to do with me, but those who are on the opposites sides, needing to find the courage to cross.  Maybe they're thinking, "If she can cross, so can I."

    The last thing God told me about this middle-place assignment I'm in is my posture on the bridge.  As I'm standing there, both of my arms are extended wide open to either side.  Who needs to see my hands and take a hold of one of them, to find the courage to cross the bridge?  A second part of my posture has to do with my lack of holding on to anything.  I'm not grasping for the railing, and I'm certainly not grasping for thin air out of fear I might fall.  I'm simply not moving.  I'm sure about my posture, purpose, and the plan for why I'm there.  No need to tremble.

    If you're standing on either side of this gully, looking at me standing out on this bridge, I want you to know a few things.

    You can do it.  You can get over your fear, and take a step forward.  There's healing on the other side.  I promise.  It won't be easy..  You might shake a lot on that bridge as you cross.  But you'll feel so good to reach the other side when you did.  And also, you can always turn around and go back to where you came from if you want to, although you won't be the same person anymore, so be aware of that.  Once you've seen the other side, your eyes will be open to a whole side of the gully you never explored before.

    Secondly, if you need help, I'm standing there waiting.  Let me help.  I want to.

    And if you think this is all ridiculous and you'd never meet me out there if your life depended on it, I want you to remember you're a child of God who sees all, knows all, and created all.  Every single detail of your life is known to Him.  He's working out your details, even in this moment.  And if you see me on this bridge, it's possible He brought you into my life for a reason.  Because you need to grab one of my hands and let me help you get to the other side?  Or maybe you need to linger in the middle with me a little bit.  That's ok, too.  I'm comfortable (although a little lonely) out here.  It makes no sense why I am so ok with being out here, but I have a deep peace in this place.

    And I'll be here to pray for you, and point you back to the One who created you, loves you, and wants you to make it to the other side, and back again, in one piece.  Safe and sound.

    He never calls us out into the deep to drown us, but to grow us, to make us stronger, and help us return to our safe ground again better than when we left it.

"Those from among you will rebuild the ancient ruins;

You will raise up the age-old foundations;

And you will be called the repairer of the breach,

The restorer of the streets in which to dwell." - Isaiah 52:18 (emphasis mine)

    

    

Alaska, 2018 with my 3 year-old daughter.
We've been practicing for this posture longer than I ever imagined.