love him less.

For most of my life, though I have had close relationships with family and good friends, there was still a deep longing in me to know and be known deeply by another.

Until I was 22 years old (and married Mark), that "another" was the Lord.  Though I had plenty of times I could characterize as "lonely", I also shared such a deep, rich fellowship with God.  I knew what it was like to turn to him first, to confide in him, to cry out to him.

Then, as Mark and I entered into marriage, there was a subtle shift-- so subtle, in fact, that it took me almost two years to realize it.

Life changed quickly around us: brand new marriage, new city, new jobs.  New, new, new. And we were each the only person the other knew.  In the midst of this significant change, when I felt swallowed up by my circumstances, it was my first instinct to take hold of whatever was steady and within my reach.

While of course the Lord was very present with us in that season, I started to substitute God's intangible presence for the tangible- my husband.  It's difficult to trust when we're struggling that God is there, that he cares.

Mark, on the other hand, was right in front of my face. He knew me, he was committed to me. It was far easier- and instantly gratifying- to share my thoughts and feelings with someone I could see, who could show me in that moment that he heard me.

While Mark knows and loves the Lord and does his best to point me to him, I have recently found that I have become content with simply exposing my heart before my husband, rather than turning to my God.

This has meant affections that are divided; interests turned to the immediate.  Not seeking or trusting the sovereign care, works, and timing of my God.

This summer I have been reading A Severe Mercy.  It is a beautiful book in which the author falls in love, marries, has great adventures, and later comes to know the Lord, enduring difficult circumstances by faith in Christ.

Before the author and his wife know God, they speak of how they will keep their love alive: by sharing in everything.  They call it the "Shining Barrier" that will sustain their relationship.  I was so taken with this notion at its surface- it has a lovely appeal.  And, of course, it is true on some level. A relationship without sharing- in communication, in time, in each other's burdens- will not survive.

However, I know more deeply that a dynamic, flourishing relationship with God is the only way for a human love to be sustained.  Therefore, I desire, by the help of the Spirit, to pursue deep fellowship with the Lord, knowing that in this union a deeper union with my husband will also thrive.

After all, marriage is a picture of Christ and his church. Our marriages are to reflect the relationship that we share with Christ. (Eph. 5:22-33)

At our wedding, my dad read a poem written by John Piper (which Piper wrote for his son when he got married).  Of course, he's writing to the husband, but the truth is for us both.  I love Mark more when I love him less than I love God.

"Yes, love her, love her, more than life;
O, love the woman called your wife.
Go love her as your earthly best.

Beyond this venture not. But, lest
Your love become a fool's facade,
Be sure to love her less than God.

It is not wise or kind to call
An idol by sweet names, and fall,
As in humility, before
A likeness of your God. Adore
Above your best beloved on earth
The God alone who gives her worth.
And she will know in second place
That your great love is also grace,
And that your high affections now
Are flowing freely from a vow
Beneath these promises, first made
To you by God. Nor will they fade
For being rooted by the stream
Of Heaven's Joy, which you esteem
And cherish more than breath and life,
That you may give it to your wife.

The greatest gift you give your wife
Is loving God above her life.
And thus I bid you now to bless:
Go love her more by loving less."

In the End, Joy: Remembering Elisabeth Elliot

In a culture that is driven by the American dream, where independence, hard work, and getting ahead are prized, I see a lack of acknowledgement for the people that shape who we are. I had never noticed this as a blind spot in my own life until earlier this week when Elisabeth Elliot, a woman whose writing had a profound impact on me at a very important time of my life, passed away.

As I thought about who she was and what her voice has meant to my life, I was convicted that I don't often take the time to truly acknowledge and appreciate the people that the Lord uses to teach me about himself. I felt a deep thankfulness stirring in my soul, and therefore compelled to share what Elisabeth Elliot meant to me.

Elliot's writing found me in my freshman year of college, in a time when I had begun to discern a longing in my heart for a relationship.

In high school, I decided early on that dating during that season of life wouldn't be for me.  And I lived (mostly) contentedly in that freedom, thankful for the richness of friendships that high school brought because my focus had not been on dating. I was also thankful for the chance to got to know guys my age as brothers in Christ.  

But as I entered college, I knew this season was changing, that I desired a relationship, and that it was becoming very present on my heart and mind.  I had started to view friendships with guys differently, thinking: what if this or that guy is the guy?

I knew that I needed to think and process these desires in a biblical way, that I wanted to understand contentment in the midst of a new season, and I started looking for resources that could be helpful. I'm not sure how I stumbled upon it, but somehow I got a copy of Passion and Purity in my hands, and I couldn't put it down.

I was already familiar with Elisabeth Elliot from reading Shadow of the Almighty a few years prior. I had read of Jim Elliot's deep life of faith and desire to bring the gospel to the nations.  I also knew some of her story-- she had continued that mission to the very people that had killed her husband, seeing many of the same tribe come to faith in Christ.

But Passion and Purity revealed more of Elisabeth Elliot to me.  It quickly became clear to me that she had such a rich life with the Lord.  I had expected a (probably cheesy) book with some practical advice about contentment and relationships and purity.  Instead, what I experienced was a deeper understanding of the heart of God and what it looks like to faithfully submit to His will.

Elliot had a way of being so honest about her struggles and longings that drew me in, but she consistently and faithfully submitted them to God.  It didn't mean that waiting on the Lord's will was easy for her, or that her flesh didn't fight against it, but rather that she sought obedience over the fulfillment of her fleshly desires, and found a great refuge in communing with the Lord.

She talked a lot about how the Lord refines us and draws us to himself as we bring our thoughts and struggles and longings to him. "The deepest spiritual lessons are not learned by his letting us have our way in the end, but by His making us wait, bearing with us in love and patience until we are able honestly to pray what He taught His disciples to pray: Thy will be done."

"When obedience to God contradicts what I think will give me pleasure, let me ask myself if I love Him. If I can say yes to that question, can't I say yes to pleasing Him? Can't I say yes even if it means a sacrifice? A little quiet reflection will remind me that yes to God always leads in the end to joy. We can absolutely bank on that."

These thoughts (and several more!) served as a powerful example for me.  Of course, namely at the time I applied them to my desire to find contentment in singleness, or godliness in a relationship. But ever since my first reading of Passion and Purity, I have revisited it several times.  While Elliot's story in this particular work centers around the Lord's will for her relationship with Jim, it also told a larger story of longing, of sacrifice, of sanctification and deeper pursuit of God.

I will always be thankful for the life and faith of Elisabeth Elliot.  I will not forget the important ways that God used her in my own life, drawing me to deeper love and thankfulness to Him.

on limitations

Recently in our small group we talked about limitations-- about how part of the experience of being human is to have limits. We can't do all the things we want to do.  We're limited by time, by physical and emotional needs, etc.  But for whatever reason, we have this insatiable desire to do everything, to excel in everything. We feel like we need to make ourselves busy, because in doing more, we'll get ahead (or at least we'll feel really good about how much we're doing--because busyness is next to godliness, right???).

However, after weeks and months of underlying anxiety as I run through mental to-do lists, and discouragement at the end of every day when I inevitably fail or come up short in one way or another (or sometimes in every way), I cannot ignore that I have limits.

The Lord has been kindly reminding me that my limitations are actually by His design.

It's funny how I tend to believe things about God in theory but not let my heart really rest in their truth.  For instance: I "know" that I have a deep, abiding need for God. I "know" that he desires for me to acknowledge this need, that he desires to help me, showing himself strong and good and glorious in my life.  But I often live as though I am expected to do everything with perfect ease, on my own.

I'm thankful to know a God who has not left me on my own, who lets me know when I am relying on myself rather than running to him in my weakness.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. -2 Corinthians 12:9

My desires to perform well in my job and school, to be a good wife/daughter/sister/friend, or to improve in discipline are not wrong, but the fact that I don't always measure up is a constant reminder of my need for God.  I'm learning to be thankful for my limitations and my weakness, so that the power of Christ may be made more evident in my life.  I'm learning what rest looks like in light of these truths.

I read this yesterday and am adopting it as my prayer too: "give me grace to know more my need of grace...reveal to me my weakness that I may know my strength in thee." (The Valley of Vision)

new things.

There's been a little over a year of silence in this space, and I wish I had more to show for it. There are plenty of reasons I could list, excuses I could make. Mostly I think it has a lot to do with insecurity-- looking around and feeling like I couldn't possibly have anything worthwhile to contribute, especially when there's already so much to consume, and most of it is much better than what I have to offer. 

But I've realized I need an outlet. And even though what is found here may not be exceptional, it is good for me to process, to record, to create. So I'm giving it another go :)

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Yesterday was Easter, and our pastor preached a beautiful sermon from 1 Corinthians 15:50-58. Discouragement has characterized this season for me, but I find comfort in remembering that my sanctification is a slow, often painful work, spanning my entire life. It won't always feel like victory, but I can be confident that as I continue to seek the Lord, he will change my heart. I am also filled with hope for the day when I have a resurrection body, completely free from sin and alive to God.     

We Shall All Be Changed

Resurrection bodies—

we shall all be changed.

For as in Adam all die,

so also in Christ

shall all be made alive.

Just as we have borne

the image of the man of dust,

we shall also bear

the image of the man of heaven.

The last enemy

to be destroyed

is death.

Resurrection bodies:

we shall all be changed.

 (a found poem, based on 1 Cor. 15)